#it doesn’t have its own song it���s just used in spurts

[yinyanchan]

NSFW Black/Reader

This is an excerpt from a Fanfiction called Bone-ifide Goods that hasn’t been posted yet. Basically Reader is in a tight spot and is helplessly trying to take care of her niece and nephew. After her sister in law up and left/disappeared with insurance money when it was announced Readers brother was missing in action and its assumed he is dead. Desperate for work until financial aide can help with her two new mouths to feed and literally on her last few dollars. She finds Bone-ifide goods, a grocery that is run by all the AU skeleton brothers Undertale, Underswap, Underfell, Horrortale, Swapfell. They help reader get on her feet as well as a job. This was going to be an explicit rating one. (I know I’m partial to swapfell sans but I adore him so he got the first sex scene.)  Feature below under the cut. WARNING THIS IS NSFW. Biting, knotting, public sex. Writing mature themed things is still very new to me so I’m posting this to get a feel. I am open to critiquing!

You guessed right.

Black had been reading your cues and he had been salivating for this moment.

Looking away shyly as he closes the cooler door behind him… eyeing you ravenously.

It had been awhile for you to have some meaningful adult time since the kids have been with you. No walks of shame from late night drinking. Nothing to quench the burning lust you've started to develop for these amazing skeletons.

Noticing that some of them have been dropping a few hints that they might be interested in you too.

You decided to drop a few seductive hints to Black. It was a slow day so Orange had Blue manning the register while you two stocked the floor leaving you by yourselves for the most part.

Now here you were about to have sex with a skeleton co-worker. So scandalous… you could be fired for this but wouldn't he as well? Hard to know and this was a family run business and all. Your hormones are raging and as he quickly closes the gap and throws his arms around you… you weren't going anywhere. His mouth on yours making the cooler almost steam from the heat your bodies were already prepped and producing.

Caught in his passionate embrace, knowing you two had to be quick. Your disappearance could easily be explained as your 15 minute break which you often took with one of the skeletons you were working with.

Black seemed to understand the need for a hasty rendezvous as well and turned you around. Thankfully a skirt was your chosen garment today and was also the subject of tease as you've subjected him to near panty shots. Your skirt is riding a little high as you bend over. Getting the poor flustered skeleton worked up and wanting as bad as you were.

He pulled your Polo over your head but left it resting and still covering your arms as you braced yourself for what was to come.

You feel him against you nipping and licking your shoulder to the crook of your neck. He places a hand between your legs to splay them and widen your stance as the other grips your hip.

Your panties are pushed aside and the waters are tested and it's safe to say you are positively dripping at this point… you've wanted him all day.

His hand leaves and you hear a zip and you moan in approval as he continues to assault your neck.

Then he pushes himself on you with the passion of a wild animal. You feel his weight pressing down but not fully,  just to show dominance. His chest on your back as he adjusts and you can feel a throbbing cock getting slick against your folds. Hearing and feeling a deep rumble from his chest… a mixture of a growl and a groan at feeling your heat.

Knowing your warm core probably feels amazing to his aching member in this cold cooler. Nipping you harshly enough to draw blood as he lines up with your opening… leaving you a moaning mess in want.

"Black please! Please!" You cry out to spur him on.

Ask and you shall receive.

Black rams it in with a guttural growl upon hearing your plea. You throw your head back as you clench his length and thickness… almost sad that it leaves only to cry out in joy when it returns… again and again…

He pistons into you as you both try to meet your end. It has to be quick so you can cool down and clean up. Then act like it didn't happen… then maybe try it again.

With the way Black is clinging to you purring and groaning with every squeeze around his cock you provide… he might just be up for another round in the near future too.

Both of you have seemed a little pent up and he starts back with tender nips as his thrusts begin to get a little erratic. You are so close, yes. You begin to rub your sensitive nub to help you reach with him.

You hear him whine and start to pull away and you realize that he might be trying to pull out… Gripping his hands and pulling him back flush against you earned a surprised huff of air out of him.

"It's okay Black. Give it to me. I want it all." You whine back and hear a ferocious snarl before he bites into you to latch his teeth into a grip.

Your eyes bulge… did he get bigger? You felt his cock almost bulge inside of you. It left you gasping as he tried to thrust.

You feel him snake a hand down to finish rubbing your clit making you a moaning mess. A final thrust from him and it feels like an explosion erupts from his cock. Sending you into your own pleasurable climax.

Feeling his cum continuously spurting against your spasming insides sending you into another but smaller orgasm.

Both of you are breathing heavy but very satisfied. Reveling in the aftermath for a quick moment. Now you had to be quick. Both of you needed to get cleaned up before you were caught.

You try to break away from Blacks embrace only to get a surprised gasp of pain and down both of you went. 

Looking down Black was splayed on the floor and you very much still connected to his penis straddling him reverse cowgirl style.

"S-SHIT! Y/N I'M SORRY! I GOT TOO EXCITED AND KNOTTED INSIDE YOU!" Black is as red as a beet in embarrassment.

"Knotted? What does that mean? Are we stuck?" You ask looking back at him incredulously.

"YES… UNTIL MY KNOT HAS GONE DOWN." Black at least looks apologetic but you are terrified.

"What!? Black, if we aren't on the floor in a few minutes they are going to come looking for us! We can't use the 15 minute break excuse if we're gone longer than that!" You try to get up again only to grunt and come back down to rest on him. Then squeak in surprise when you feel another jet of cum coating your insides.

"S-SORRY… I'VE REALLY BEEN FANTASIZING ABOUT THIS AND YOU ASKING FOR IT MADE ME LET LOOSE." He sighs and blushes.

"What sex in a cooler?" You quip at him.

"STARS NO! BEING... INTIMATE WITH YOU." Black says looking away. You know he means it if he's embarrassed.

Black has a special place in your heart… you don't quite know if you're ready to give him everything but… since he made amends, from that fiasco when you first met him, by buying you and the kids groceries when you had nothing… you had a soft spot for him. He hadn’t needed to but he did it anyway.

Then when he started saying "YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL TODAY." along with his good mornings… and giving you appreciative looks… willing to help at a moment's notice… Then when you left him speechless getting all gussied up for chaperoning Angels school dance… you had also invited him to come along with you to help keep you sane… you both had a very good time and even danced to a few songs… making it very clear how bad you both wanted to jump each other's bones…

Bad thing was… you also liked all the other skeletons. With raising the kids in mind you needed to date around and find mr. Right but that didn't mean you couldn't have some fun. Especially when Black was a potential candidate for that role.

"Y/N, Black, Code 2 at the front checkout."  You hear Orange over the loudspeakers just outside the cooler and you both blanch.

Code 2 was a sudden rush at the checkout… that you two were too preoccupied to help.

You try to lift again and both hiss… lowering poor Black to the harsh cold of the cooler floor.

"I AM SO SORRY. THIS IS GOING TO TAKE A MOMENT." Black groans as another spurt of cum hits deep inside you. It flares that tingling warmth back to life a little.

Stars… you couldn't get horny again… could you?

You feel yourself moistening more and clamping down on his still hard member… making him whimper.

You look back to apologize only to see him give you the same needy lust filled gaze.

What the heck… you were stuck might as well get off again if he doesn't mind.

Make it count before you were fired.

Feeling more cum fill you… you started your hips rocking for friction. Rubbing your clit as he began to pump once again. His moans make you clench him tighter in pleasure. Black gripping your hips harshly as you rode him.

Still cumming but still going? All the guys you've been with were typically spent after they blew their load. Far too sensitive for another round. Black was still cumming from his first and wanting to do more.

Feeling his cock rub aggressively the sensitive places inside you. Arching your back as he bucks.

Over stimulated yourself from the pleasurable pressure that was Black's still swollen member and the harsh tugs as he thrusts, not able to truly leave your womanhood.

Black instantly raises himself to embrace you further. You both aren't going to last very long as his feather like kisses begin to grip and nip. A final throb and feeling him explode within you again had you almost cry out as it hits deep within your womb. Sending pleasant shivers of coital bliss as your partner purrs coming down from his high.

You relax back into him and he nuzzles you appreciatively. Still deeply embedded in you. You still feel him twitch and release small spurts. Your abused core, highly sensitive to it all… making you whimper and moan.

Thankfully his second orgasm must have triggered his knot to go down. You feel the pressure begin to fade. Both of you quickly try to get ready.

Black gives you his bandana for cleanup and hastily hides it once you are done. His pants however were a little on the wet side. You untucked his polo slightly so it would cover the spots. 

Getting a thumbs up when you ask how you look. You both make a beeline for the registers. You got a concerned look from Blue and Orange as Orange was trying to help man the registers as you two didn't show.

Both of you hopped on and helped take care of the crowded frontline. Once it went down it was Orange that piped up.

“So… where were you two?” He asks suspiciously.

“W-we were in the cooler. We were trying to rotate stock and one of the crates fell over.” You thought it was a good excuse to be late. However Black was rigid and when Orange looks his way for verification, he merely huffs.

“YOU ASK THAT AS IF WE WERE TRYING TO GET OUT OF DOING OUR JOBS.” He glares at Orange who humms.

“Is that right? So what happened to your bandana?” Orange smirks at him as he falters. He always had his bandana…. This looked highly suspicious.

“MISS Y/N!” You turn to look at Blue as he sounds panicked

He leans in close and whispers to you. If you could call it whispering.

“IS-IS IT THAT TIME? I THINK YOU FORGOT. YOU’VE GOT RED ON YOUR LEG.” You can only gape at him then look down and sure enough there is a little trail on the inside of your lower leg you must have missed… of red cum from a now very red skeleton.

“Oh! Thanks Blue I need to go clean this up.” You smile awkwardly at him when on the inside you are mortified.

Unaware that you completely left Black to Orange’s mercy. Of which you didn’t know… he lacked.

“I wonder what sans is going to say when he looks on the security footage.” Orange smirks as Black sputters.

“W-WE DON’T HAVE CAMERAS IN THE COOLER!!!!” He yells.

“We don’t have them in the freezer. There’s a difference.” He keeps the smirk up as Black looks horrified.

“Blue can you finish with the front stock while we don’t have any customers checking out?” He calls over to his brother who cheerfully salutes. As soon as Blue was out of ear shot.

“You think I can’t tell the difference between blood and magic mister? Then there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Orange eyes are lit an eerie orange. Black could see there was no getting out of this.

“SHE WANTED IT AND I GAVE IT. NO SENSE IN GETTING JEALOUS ORANGE.” Black smirked right back as it was Orange’s turn to gape.

[degenerate-perturbation]

Chapters: 25/38 Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Dragon Age II Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Isabela (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Pride Demon(s) (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic, Prostitution, Drowning, Wilderness Survival, Mind Control, Human Experimentation, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?

Pollard’s blood lasted her only a handful of weeks. One vial she wasted, and for that she spent hours cursing her own foolishness, but successfully distilled second. Pure Blight pulsed black and ugly in the vial, viscous, oozing and alive, more than she had ever managed to get before; it was dreadfully difficult stuff to work with; corrosive, unstable, liable to eat through any vessel she kept it in. She had a thimblefull of taint now, and one vial of Pollard’s blood left over.

There had to be something. Veritas had said the secret was in the blood, and that made perfect sense. The blood of a man dying of the Taint, there had to be something.

But experiment after experiment revealed that the Blight in Pollard’s blood was no different from her own. She tried every test she’d spent all this time devising, distilling, refining, transforming, trying to find a single meaningful difference between the Taint in her blood and the Taint in the blood of a dying man. And there was nothing.

She had only the one vial left. Who knew when the next Warden would begin to hear the song? She should have taken more—curse her, she should have been more careful.

Normally she would have asked Avernus what he thought. He had ages more experience in experiments with Grey Warden blood. He might have even known all this already. If she could swallow her pride

But the thought of crawling back to him for help with something he probably had solved centuries ago made her physically recoil.

Avernus didn’t think it was even possible to cure the Taint, but what did he know? He didn’t  care about curing it. He only cared about the power in the Blight, how to use it to make new spells, learn more about magic. She was not like him. She was better. She could figure this out.

The longer she tried, the more her thoughts heaved with spurts of anger and pride and fear, wild despair-shot terror that whispered,  you are wrong, you are not good enough.  

She redrew the summoning circle. What choice did she have?

Only when she was halfway through the ritual did she remember to cast spells of concealment.

Veritas did not seem surprised to find itself back.“So soon, Loriel Surana? Again with the invisibility. Don’t you think it is a little paranoid?”

“Why doesn’t it work?” she demanded. “You said it was in the blood.”

“Of course the secret is in the blood,” said the demon. “I do not lie.”

“Then why is a dying man’s blood just the same as mine?

“The Taint does not change a man’s blood only, Loriel Surana. The taint is in your skin and hair and heart, it is in every part of you, not just your blood. What made you think you could understand the whole of something from its smallest part?”

“You  said—”

“Nothing that was false.”

She scowled. “I should have known better than to trust a demon. You lie without lying, all your kind does—”

Veritas seemed to grow then, filling up the room with its bulk. Its thousands of eyes stared unblinking right at her, its golden mask a terrible rictus. “ Do not dare insult me, mageling!  I am Veritas, he who knows ten thousand truths! Not one falsehood has ever passed my lips! Call me a liar again and I will  eat your heart.”

Loriel was gratified to know that she was still invisible, and Veritas did not see her flinch. “You might will it, Veritas, but it shall not happen. I have you bound so tight that if I  willed it, I could leave you here and never come back. I would bind you to this circle, to this mortal plane, and you would not see your home, nor anything besides this darkness, until you forgot your very name, until you were Veritas no more. Am I lying? Tell me true.”

Veritas was silent.

“That,” said Loriel, “is what I thought.”

“You are a bold little thing,” the demon said disdainfully, “to threaten me so, when you need my help.”

“I do not  need your help," she sniffed. "There are other demons like you. I could summon any of them just as well.”

“And yet you haven’t. Why is that, I wonder? If old incorrigible Veritas displeases you, why summon him? You want my cooperation, mageling, don’t deny it.”

“Fine. I won’t. I do want your help. What do you want in exchange?”

“Only this, Loriel Surana. Reveal yourself. Show me your true face, use your true voice. Let there be no unseemly secrets between the two of us.”

She had to laugh. “And what will you give me in return?”

“My goodwill, of course.”

Veritas did not lie. But it had to be a trick. What else could it be? A demon would not offer a deal unless it had the upper hand. The wise thing to do would be to dismiss it, find another spirit to deal with, one less dangerous, one with not quite so many staring eyes…

But...If she was going to show herself, she may as well do it to a creature that might understand her. She released the spells of concealment, and was beheld.

Every one of Veritas’s thousands of eyes focused right on her, boring into her skin, scraping every inch of her. “My, you’re even smaller than I was imagining.”

“Do you even know how to cure the Taint?” Her voice sounded preposterously small without the spell of echoing misdirection layered on top of it.

“No,” the demon said easily. “But I am very curious as to how you will manage it. I’m even willing to help.”

Of course. Of course of course of—“As though you’ve been any help.”

Veritas sat back lazily on its haunches. “You don’t even need my help, not at  this juncture. You said so yourself. You know exactly what you need to do.”

“Do I." The words dropped like stones from her mouth.

“Of course you do, Loriel Surana! You must use human subjects! Or elven, or dwarven, or whichever—you mortals are not all that different. I told you as much when last we spoke.”

“I did use human—”

“Do not be coy. Blood alone will not do it. You discovered as much yourself. You know what must be done, but still you hesitate. Why, I wonder?”

She did not answer.

“I will tell you this for free, because you already know it." Veritas turned in a circle and settled itself on its pause, like an enormous cat. "You hesitate because you wish to think of yourself as good, or at least, not evil. You prefer so strongly to believe that you are not like others of your kind that you would fail your stated goal on purpose. For as long as you stay bound to it, doing your reasonably convincing best, though you perform for no one but yourself, you do not have to move or think or be.”

She stood white-faced and silent, for every word rang true.

“Now if what you  truly wanted was what you claim to want,” Veritas went on, “you would not hesitate to do what you already know you must. You would accept the price of thinking yourself evil, and pursue that which brings you closer to your goal, and that alone. But this is  not what you want above all things, so you make only tepid and halfhearted efforts to achieve it.”

“You sound like Avernus,” she scoffed.

The demon’s golden eyes flared, and now it knew another name important to her. Was she truly so mad in her aloneness that she would give away her secrets to a demon, just to have someone to give them to?

Yes, she realized. Yes, she was.

    tck

Brigit concluded her report. No new deaths. No Callings. No sign of the Architect.

“Thank you, Seneschal.”  That will be all, but somehow those words did not get spoken, and until she spoke them Brigit would not move. She stood ramrod straight, at attention, the ideal servant.

“Seneschal. Why did you decide to come here?”

“To serve the Grey Wardens,” she answered at once. “To help. In my own small way.”

"And yet you do not join us?"

Brigit shook her head. "No, ser. I am no warrior. I can bear neither sword nor bow, but I hope to be of use in other ways."

"But why?" Loriel fixed her deep black gaze on hers. Brigit’s eyes were light, and they could be green or blue or brown depending on the light. Here and now, they looked slate grey, and did not waver one bit.

"I don't understand. What reason would I need to wish to serve? Why does anybody wish to serve?"

No. No, that rang false. "Please, Brigit. Let there be no secrets between us."

Finally Brigit dropped her gaze and said in a small and quiet voice: “I was at Denerim. During the battle. We had evacuated from the south, but the Blight had come for us anyway. I remember the storm...the only light came from the lightning. I saw the beast there, with my own eyes. I had never been so afraid in my life. I had always believed in the Maker, believed that he loved us, though we his children had gone astray...but when I saw that thing, I was not sure. What father would set such a thing on his children? I don't know why it affected me so deeply.

"And I saw it die. I saw  you slay it." You. Brigit said it like a prayer. "Ser, I am no scholar, but I know my history. I know that no Grey Warden has ever survived such a feat. I had never believed in miracles, until that day."

Am I all you hoped for? Loriel wanted to ask. But it only would have hurt her, and hurting her would have been the point. And if the answer had been yes, that would be too terribly to contemplate.

"I survived the assault, and returned to my life, but I never forgot. I wanted my life to mean something, but I was a coward. I cannot fight. I fear pain and death. I would be a useless Grey Warden... but I know sums, notations, and I write well. It is the Maker’s blessing that my mean skills are now of use.”

Loriel nodded slowly. “I see. Thank you.” Then she added, almost as an afterthought, “You know how much I value you, Brigit.”

The full light of the sun shined out from the smile that split Brigit's face. “Thank you, Commander. I ask for nothing else.”

“You understand what a rare thing it is, to have my trust.”

“I do.”

“Do you trust me as I trust you?”

“Of course, Commander—of course, of course.”

“Good. That’s good.” She hesitated only a moment longer. “Tell me, Brigit, when you hand down judgments in my name—for what do you condemn men to die?”

“Rape,” Brigit said at once. “Treason. Murder. Fire-setting. Poaching. Assault of a Chantry mother.”

“Are these the laws of the land, or my laws?”

“Both, Commander. It is difficult to defy tradition and keep the support of the Bannorn, but the Arlessa has some discretion.”

“Are there many such capital crimes?”

“Not many. But always some.”

“How many?”

“Four condemned men are in the dungeons now.”

“Only four?”

“Most who break your laws or the king’s are punished swiftly within the city of Amaranthine, or by a local sheriff. Only those cases of unusual difficulty are ever brought before the Arlessa. Usually when the perpetrator is a person of note, who cannot be punished without producing political difficulties. I try to resolve such things quickly, in your name, but they often take some time. Justice, if it ever comes, comes slow.”

Loriel noted the shadow that flicked across her face.

“And these men’s crimes?”

Brigit told her. Loriel listened, and when she finished, stood and said: “Take me to the dungeons, please.”

  tck

Brigit led her down the long and winding way to the dungeons. She went to take a torch from a sconce, but Loriel waved her away and cast a wisplight. Gamely, Brigit did not fluster.

There were guards at the door, junior Wardens serving a boring patrol, and they snapped to attention when they saw Brigit arrive. Their eyes widened with astonishment at the sight of Loriel. No wonder—these recruits looked fresh enough that they likely had never seen her before. Only heard the stories.

She bid them to leave. They hesitated, uncertain, weakly protesting that the prisoners could be dangerous, until Brigit repeated the order, and they scurried. That annoyed her—but she supposed this was a situation of her own making.

She remembered coming here on her very first full day as the Warden-Commander, called on to deal with a petty burglar. Funny how it had all turned out.  She didn’t know where Nathaniel was now. She didn’t even remember him leaving.

Most of the cells were still empty. Brigit ran a tight ship. But many were full.

“This is more than four.”

“Yes, ser. Most are not condemned to die. Many are kept here until their family can pay the geld.”

“And if they cannot pay it?”

“They will be punished, and released.”

Loriel looked at the imprisoned men. They did not look dangerous. They looked tired and afraid and miserable. Her people, and she their warden.

“Which of these is the murderer?”

“The third cell on the right, ser.”

The murderer’s name was Geron, and he had murdered his own daughter. The girl had been seven years old, and Geron had smashed her head in with a cast iron pot. His wife had fled their house in terror, and when no one in the village would help her, had journeyed all the way to Vigil’s Keep to receive the Arlessa’s justice. The Arlessa’s men had found Henrick hiding in the attic of the inn, and dragged him to the dungeons to await judgement. Brigit had rendered it—death by hanging, for the crime of murder.

It had been an unusual decision, considering the extenuating circumstances. Geron had only done it because the little girl had been a mage. He’d caught her making mud-creatures with her mind, realized what she was, and killed her on the spot.

Loriel gazed blankly at him for a long time before speaking. “Why did you do it?”

The murderer raised his head. His eyes were streaming. “Please, ser.”

“Why did you do it?” she repeated.

He could hardly speak. He mouthed something that did not seem like an answer to her question.

“Tell me, please,” Loriel said quietly. “Were you afraid of her? Did you think it better for her to die? Did you hate her?”

This is what my people think of me, she thought. An insect. They would crush me in their disgust, were I small enough. But then, had he not killed his girl, she would have been taken to the Circle. Perhaps he had done her a favor.

She pressed her finger-ring into her palm. “Tell me.”

“I panicked,” the man babbled. She'd hardly had to compel him at all. “I didn’t mean to. Maker, forgive me, I’d do anything to take it back, forgive me!”

No,  thought Loriel,  I do not think I will.

“Then I offer you a choice.” She spoke quietly, but every ear in the room still strained to hear her. “You may take your death by hanging, or you may take the Joining. A life of service awaits you if you survive. The choice is yours.”

“Yes,” the man said hoarsely. “Yes, I will take the Joining. Thank you, Maker, thank you.”

She stepped back from the child-murderer’s cell.

“And the rest of you?” she inquired. “The same choice lies before you. Death, or the Joining?”

One by one, each condemned man volunteered.

Loriel turned to Brigit, who had gone pale and ghostly in the dim light of the dungeon. “Make the arrangements, Seneschal.”

  tck

Brigit remained pale and silent as they left the dungeons. Loriel noted it, but waited to return to the safety of her office to press. “Is something the matter, Seneschal?”

“Nothing, ser,” Brigit said quickly.

Loriel waited expectantly, and thought Brigit would keep whatever it was to herself, when:

“It is only that…” She struggled, then burst out: “Are you certain this is wise, Commander? Vigil’s Keep does not lack for recruits. Why offer this honor to these men who have broken the laws of your land?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance. The Grey Wardens have always recognized that.”

“I—yes, of course, but,” it took her visible effort to continue, “but it is not about what one  deserves . If a man is to be made a Grey Warden, I would have to find somewhere to place him. If he might pose a threat to his fellow Wardens, if we could not trust him—”

“Do you have such concerns about any man in particular?”

Brigit set her jaw and nodded. “Yes. Calder. There are details of his crimes that you may not fully appreciate. He is a relative of Bann Helven, and the situation with the Bann is complicated. Condemning his cousin for a crime that in other Arlings is not punishable by death at all was difficult. The Bann does not feel Calder’s crimes warrant death, and I may have to bend to his wishes.” The venom in her voice was enough to take Loriel aback. “To have him as a Grey Warden will only complicate things further.”

“To be a Grey Warden is an honor," Loriel said mildly. "Surely the Bann can see that.”

Brigit pressed her lips together. “It is not only that. Calder, he’s...He would have to be kept away from women and children. The girls he—they were young. He...a man such as that would be a liability for the Wardens, not an asset.”

Oh. Calder was the rapist. Loriel took in Brigit’s tight lips, her white face, and put it all together.

Suddenly she felt she understood Veritas. She let her voice soften. “Then of course I will take that into account.”

“Commander, I…”

Loriel extended a comforting hand, placed it lightly on her forearm. Brigit’s breath stopped in her lungs.

“Seneschal,” Loriel said, in her best pass at soft and gentle. “I understand completely. We are both women, after all.”

The effect on her was immediate. Loriel didn’t even need to say the lie, or even imply it. Brigit did it all herself.  The Seneschal, usually a cipher of utter professionalism, cracked into pieces of gratitude and pity and devotion. And there it was. She had her.

“There is no need for you to attend this Joining. I will handle it.”

She tried to hide it, but her shoulders still sagged in relief, just as they tightened again with guilt. “Are you absolutely certain, Commander?”

“Of course. Make whatever preparations are necessary. I will take care of things from there.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Do you believe me, when I say that all I do, I do to fight the Blight?” she said softly.

“I believe you.” She said it at once, with such fervor. Loriel had no doubt she meant it.

“Do you trust me, Seneschal?”

“Yes,” Brigit all-but-whispered.

“Then let us speak no more of this.”

  tck

Brigit wasted no time. She had everything arranged by the following evening. She apologized profusely that it could not be earlier, offered again and again to be present, obviously relieved each time Loriel declined.

For her part, Loriel made token attempts to make progress on the work while she waited, but by the second day, gave up. She sat in her Underkeep and thought incessantly of the child-murderer. It did not seem real, what she intended to do. Let alone how much she wanted to do it.

The hour approached at once intolerably slowly, and terrifyingly fast.

Guards brought the prisoners to the deserted chamber, released them from their chains, and departed. Loriel had already ensured they would not remember this, or come back in here. The prisoners were still and silent, awaiting their fates.

Loriel had not been present at a Joining in years. She only remembered the words because she had looked them up in advance. Not that they were important. Not that anyone in this room would leave it alve.

“Join us, brothers, in the shadows where we stand vigilant,” she said. She sounded ridiculous. “Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn.” How did anybody take this seriously? “And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” It would not be remembered in the first place. She’d made sure of that. “And that one day, we shall join you.”

The last word echoed away, and then she offered the cup: “Who shall take the Joining first?”

At least she was giving them a choice. Not much of a choice—one death or the other—but it more than the choice Loriel had been given. More than the choice almost every Warden in existence had been given. In her own Joining, Duncan hadn’t even let them volunteer. At least  they had done something to deserve it, besides being born.

One of the men shrugged and stepped forward. Loriel knew neither his crime nor his name. He stared at the vile mixture for long moments before finally taking a sip.

A sip was all it took. He spasmed, gasped, and choked. He died over the course of a few seconds, but they were long seconds.The three remaining prisoners stood stiff and staring at the body. They had known this might happen, but now it was real.

It was altogether not surprising. Even honest, devoted, strong-willed people could die in the Joining. She had no reason to expect that men who had only agreed to the Joining out of desperation to do much better.

“His sacrifice will not be forgotten,” Loriel said flatly.

“Th-that’s a horrible way to die. Maker, I…” Another of the condemned men was shaking his head. “I—I think I’d rather hang.”

She shook her head minutely. “That is no longer possible.”

“Please,” his voice was a whisper— “Please don’t make me drink that. Please, I can’t, please just let me go back to my cell, I won’t cause no trouble, please, Arlessa...I’d rather a good clean death.”

The hangman wouldn’t offer him that. “I grant it,” she said, and crushed a blood vessel in the base of his brain. He was dead before he hit the ground. Instant. Painless. Better than a stopped heart or crushed lungs. She had gotten better at this, since the first time she'd tried it.

“His sacrifice will not be forgotten,” she intoned.

Two remained. Calder, the rapist with the noble relative, looked at the cooling corpse in horror, but the child-murderer’s eyes were closed as though in prayer. Loriel thought of drawing his blood screaming out of him, confirming his every worst fear about her kind. She thought of the lies she would tell him—that she could feel his little daughter’s spirit in the Fade, that she was here with her, that she wanted her to do this thing to him. How she would make him suffer, how she would make him weep. How she would use every trick she had ever learned to keep him alive, how he would spend eternities paying for what before she even began to consider granting him rest.

Yes, she wanted it. She would do it. She could not wait to do it.

“Step forward.”

Geron opened his eyes with resolve, stepped forward, and knelt. She watched his face. It was open and honest, terrified but resolved. He regretted what he had done. He wanted to atone.

Well, he would.

“Get up,” she barked. “Drink!”

Geron took the Joining cup and drank.

He collapsed immediately. The Joining cup would have fallen and spilled its noxious contents if not for Loriel’s instinctual telekinetic spell. Geron had looked pathetic in the dungeon, pathetic begging her forgiveness, and now he looked both pathetic and  small, collapsed on the flagstones. Her heart thundered. What fortune that this man was there in the dungeons. She might never have otherwise had the courage.

And then she realized that the faint pulse of life was gone. The Taint had taken her prize. He was dead.

The soap-bubble beauty of her little fantasy popped.

“His sacrifice...will not be forgotten,” she said, unsure for whose benefit.

Bitter disappointment settled in her chest, tinged with the faintest strains of shamed relief.

“Guess that leaves me, then,” said Calder. He had raped and badly beaten three young girls. Now he stood swinging his arms, looking around at all the corpses.

“Just how often is this Joining fatal?”

She was slow to reply. “Not as fatal as your one alternative."

Calder barked a laugh. “Point taken. Well, nothing for it.” Calder seized the cup and took an unseemly swig, nearly spilling it down his front. He gagged and coughed, flecks of Joining blood splattering the flagstones. She was not really paying attention to him anymore. She stared at Geron’s corpse. She had been so sure...so ready…

In the heartbeats that followed, Calder, too, gagged and bent, and collapsed insensible to the flagstones.

And Loriel was alone with herself once more.

  tck

She hadn’t slept at all when she next saw Brigit.

“Commander,” the Seneschal murmured as she set her morning tea in front of her.

“Seneschal,” Loriel replied, wrapping her hands around the cup, absorbing none of its warmth.

Brigit gave her report, halfheartedly. Loriel listened with even less heart than that. Finally they had performed enough normalcy that they dared speak of the matter at hand.

“Are there new Wardens for me to assign?”

“Oh,” Loriel said, as though she hadn’t even been thinking of it. “No. No, there aren’t.”

Brigit’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh. All four?”

“Yes. I’m afraid so.”

Brigit exhaled with relief. “It is justice, then.”

“No,” Loriel said flatly. “It isn’t.” Justice would be for that girl to have lived. Justice would be for a world where her death at the hands of her father would be an unthinkable absurdity. Justice would be a world where death had not been a kinder fate than the Circle. Justice had fled this place, leaving a massacre in his wake. Justice could not dwell in this world and remain Justice.

“No...it isn’t,” Brigit reluctantly agreed. “But the nearest thing that can be hoped for.”

“Brigit—may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, ser. I am ever at your service.”

An idle thought:  As you should be. “Do you suppose I did the right thing, in allowing these men to be Joined?”

A voice, a ghost, a memory:  Of course you did the right thing.

“I would not presume to say, Commander. I trust you know what is best.”

“I am asking what  you think is best, Brigit.”

Brigit gazed at her feet. “It is immaterial what I think.”

“No, Brigit. It isn’t. Look at me. I value your opinion. I would have you speak your mind.”

The Seneschal lifted her head. “I think...that is quite unusual, for every recruit to die in a Joining.”

Loriel held her gaze steady. “These men volunteered only to escape their imminent deaths. I would not expect many to survive.”

“Yes...but many come to the Wardens seeking to escape their fates,” Brigit said, slowly. “Four is not so many as to be impossible. Perhaps not even notable, to those unfamiliar with the process. But it is...unusual.”

“Hm. Yes. Perhaps so.” Loriel made out as though she were examining her nails. “But this way at least Bann Helven can be comforted that his cousin died in faithful service. To die in the Joining is an honor. Far more so, I think, than to be executed on such charges as he had.”

“That...is certainly so.”

“Tell me again, Brigit. Do you think it was good, or bad, for me to allow those men to be Joined? Answer truly.”

An echo:  You always do the right thing.  

Brigit held very still. Finally she bowed her head. Perhaps it was only the angle of her head, but she seemed to be smiling. “I confess I think it good.”

Loriel shaped a smile in return. “That is wonderful to hear, Brigit. I do so value your support.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

“You should dress more finely. You speak with the voice and all the authority of the Arlessa of Amaranthine and the Commander of the Grey. Have you no fine brocades in silver or blue?”

How fortunate, that Brigit was pale enough that even the faintest of flushes showed easily on her skin.

“I could obtain some.”

“Good. Do so. You should dress as befits your position. Now, if we have nothing further to discuss...”

Brigit left her office flushed and preening. If Loriel had any doubts about her they were gone now. She was heartened to know that she did not yet need to accomplish  everything with blood magic.

She finished the tea in silence.

  tck

Loriel long dwelled on Geron’s death, down in her Underkeep.

She had no love of self-deception. She had long prided herself on this. She saw this ugly world, her ugly self, just as they were, and did not flinch. The old commander was the one who flinched. Not her.

And yet she had somehow been so wrong about her own nature.

Some things that Loriel knew about herself—that she liked power. That she liked to be in control. That she was ready to risk other people’s minds and souls, if she could keep her power and stay in control. It didn’t take a demon of knowledge to figure out why. She could imagine what Veritas would say, were it here:

Of course you love power,  it would say as it pranced in its binding  circle. Of course you would choose to keep power over all other things. You were a prisoner, Loriel Surana! A helpless little girl, bound by walls and violent men and love and fear and duty, and you are that prisoner still, prisoner of your own pretentions. You can no more escape yourself than you can cure the Taint. All prisoners everywhere take any scrap of control that they can get.

A woman who craved power above all else could not possibly be called  good . She had tried so long and so hard to be good, and it had been impossible, and the strain of trying had nearly cracked her open. Well, fine. She did not need to be good. The Chantry was good, and the Chantry decreed it good to keep children imprisoned with rapists and torturers and murderers, decreed it good to break their souls. What did she care for being good?

But Veritas had been right, that she was lying to herself about what she wanted most. She wanted to find a cure, yes, that was so—but more than that, she wished so dearly to not be evil. If she could not be  good, at least let her not be evil. Let her not sink to the furthest depths. Let her say that some things even she would not do, places even she would not tread.

Yet when the opportunity presented itself to subject a repentant man to torment in plain revenge for a crime that could not be undone, whose victim could not be recompensed—she had wanted it so badly.

Before she had gone to the dungeons she was not sure if she would have really done it. But she would have. And she would have enjoyed it. She had thought that, once the heat of the moment had passed, that she would grow horrified at herself, vow never to consider such a course again—

And that had not happened.

Was that not evil? To wish to inflict harm, just for the sake of it? For the sake of one’s own pleasure? There was no truer face of evil that Loriel could think of.

After that...it would be pure insanity, to slow progress on her work, just to keep thinking herself pure, when she so clearly was not so, and never had been. She had come into this world destined already cursed, already tainted. The Joining that had put darkspawn taint in her veins was little more than a formality. She had  thought that she’d understood this.

Veritas had been right about her priorities, but they were changing now. If she could not be good, if her nature was purely evil, then—at least she might  do good.

That meant she could not let herself get in her own way.

  tck

Calder woke. It surprised him. He’d had such dreadful dreams, but now he was awake—sweet Maker, he was awake. He was alive, he had survived! A Grey Warden, he thought in a heady rush, I’m a Grey Warden now. The relief that bloomed in him was palpable, almost overwhelming. He lay upon what felt like a stone slab in partial darkness, and blessed Andraste, he’d survived.

He had really thought he was going to die, and die horribly. Sure enough he had felt ready to when the vile Joining mixture had burned the back of his throat. He'd never tasted anything half so vile..

And he had had such dreams…

But it was over now. Alive, alive!

He heard someone approach. “Congratulations,” said a voice. He recognized it. The Arlessa—and his Commander, now. He didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to hear anybody in his entire life. “You are a Grey Warden, now.”

He moved to sit up, to thank her, and found that he couldn’t.

Only then did Calder notice the fact that he was paralyzed. There were no chains on his wrists or ankles,-but the force that bound him to where he lay was far heavie than chains. He could move, and he could blink, even move his head a little to track the Arlessa as she moved around the room, but that was all.

“I’m sorry,” said the Arlessa, and she sounded like she meant it. “If it makes you feel any better, leaving you alive was never an option.” She turned to a workbench. He heard the clinking of glass, the smell of intermixing reagents. “A Grey Warden is bound to a life of service. So you are here, helping me with some important work.”

Calder tried to speak, to scream, but though he could move his tongue to swallow, no sound came from his throat save for a strangled voiceless gargle.

“I’ve stilled your voice, but I can unstill it. We can speak like civilized people, before I begin," said the Arlessa. "If I let you speak, will you do your best not to scream? Blink twice for yes.”

He blinked twice, and all of a sudden had a voice again.

“What’s happening? What are you going to do to me?” The words tumbled out in a stilted rush.

“As I said,” said the Arlessa. “You are helping me with some important work. As a subject. The details, I am afraid, likely would go over your head, though I can discuss them with you for a short time if you truly desire.”

“Please,” he begged, “my father, he can help you. He’s an established man. Surely we can work something out—”

“Your father,” she interrupted, “believes you to have died honorably in service to your countrymen. A funeral is planned for next week. They will burn what looks quite convincingly like your body. Your family will mourn, but they will have closure. Privately some of them will feel a little relieved. I hope that makes you feel a little better.”

Calder threw his head back against the stone on which he lay. Was it his imagination, or could he move more freely than before? “I know I did some bad things. The Maker will judge me, I know I deserve to suffer—”

The Arlessa gave a slight tilt of the head. “Deserve? No, I don’t think anybody  deserves to suffer. This has nothing to do with what you deserve. Only what you can offer. If it matter to you, your life will probably make more of a difference to the people of Thedas than any other Grey Warden alive.”

Only then did it dawn on him. Sweet Maker, the rumors had been true, all of them. She was going to-- “You’re going to use me as a sacrifice in your demented rituals, aren’t you?” he said hysterically. “Andraste protect me, you’re going to...to…” His imagination failed him.

The Arlessa looked deeply offended. “I am not going to do any such thing. I need no more than my own blood and sweat and pain to work these spells. You are a subject, not a sacrifice.”

“You maniacal fucking bitch,” he gasped, “I’ll fucking kill you, you evil—”

Just like that he had no voice anymore. The Arlessa looked vaguely annoyed, at best.

“I strongly prefer you do not use language like that in front of me."

Tears leaked silently from the corners of his eyes.

“Perhaps it is foolish to talk to you,” she sighed. “Or rather, I know it is foolish. I admit that perhaps I feel a little lonely at times. But it would be cruel to leave you like this.”

His tears flowed freely down his temples and into his hair.

“You won’t die anytime soon, I’m afraid,” she said, drawing a knife, and at first he feared she would kill him there and then. “I don’t want to have to do this to any more people than I absolutely have to. But you will die with honor, and you won’t suffer. Goodbye. Know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten.”

When she spoke next, her voice was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, so lovely and sublime that not to do whatever she wanted was the height of madness. “You do not know pain. You do not know fear. You are a vessel, empty of everything that might cause you to suffer. You are aware of your body, enough to describe how it feels to me, but it no longer troubles you. If you need something to live, you will tell me at once. Otherwise you will stay here, neither living nor dead, and you will know nothing.”

Calder fell into the silence, and didn’t.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #the warden #surana #amell #femslash #please read my wizard lesbian fanfiction

[ducktracy]

174. get rich quick porky (1937)

release date: august 28th, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: bob clampett

starring: mel blanc (porky), cal howard (gabby), earle hodgins (honest john)

another cartoon that entails a lengthy preface! 

while this is bob clampett’s second piece as a director, it’s the first cartoon where he has full control of the helm. his previous entry, porky’s badtime story, was started by ub iwerks, who as preceded the unit. but, technically, clampett was co-directing with chuck jones.

here’s where the famous Clampett-Jones rivalry settles in. bob clampett and chuck jones did not get along. even friz freleng mentioned that they had been fighting like kids since they WERE kids, which is very true. clampett and jones would have both been 24 at the time of the cartoon’s release, jones turning 25 in september. chuck jones thought that he was co-directing the shorts with clampett, doing character layouts (which WAS a very hefty job and considered a director’s job) while clampett did the writing and timing of the shorts. however, the credits only credit clampett and not jones, so jones assumed that clampett had deliberately gotten rid of jones’ credit (to which clampett didn’t have any control over). jones would therefore hold this grudge against clampett all the way to the grave--they were bitter rivals, and chuck especially was very outspoken about his disdain and contempt towards clampett. it’s unfortunate how such a big misunderstanding can be inflated into such a bitter rivalry, and even more unfortunate to see two great talents go against each other, but that explains that. we’re here to analyze their great cartoons, not gossip about them! (...well, not ALL the time, anyway.)

a second extra little treat is that this cartoon has an animator’s draft, courtesy of devon baxter, so that we can see who animated every single scene! devon also has a breakdown video posted so you can see the credits in conjunction with the assigned animation. thanks a bunch, devon!

gabby goat sings his swan song in this fun, light-hearted clampett entry tentatively titled the oily bird gets porky: porky and gabby are easily swindled by honest john, a snake oil (emphasis on the oil portion!) salesman who scams the boys into thinking they’ve struck it rich digging for oil.

“when my dreamboat comes home” fittingly scores the title card as the cartoon opens. in some clever signage play, the camera trucks back to reveal the title card posted on a sign--the screen fades out, fading back in to reveal a new sign (now scored with the appropriate “with plenty of money and you”) advertising “oh! ~~~ just oodles of oil!”, with the oil typography actually dripping, courtesy of norm mccabe.

john carey provides the animation of the facetiously named honest john, the antagonistic oil huckster of the film. a fun bit of clampett continuity: from 1959-1962, clampett would make a cartoon adaptation of his hit puppet series time for beany. one of the characters, the show’s antagonist, was actually named dishonest john! honest john chuffs on a cigarette (his wealth and snootiness indicated by the cigarette holder he sports) as a truck driver asks where to deposit his “erl”. john, voiced by earle hodgins, redirects the trucker to park around the fence. it is then that john attaches a hose from the oil tank attached to the truck to a sprinkler system, and presto! sweet, bubbling “erl” spouts up from hidden sprinklers within a patch of land. carey’s animation is very smooth and dimensional, a telltale trait of his work.

satisfied, john now opts to search for his next pair of suckers (”ahem. i should say prospects. someone with a little money to invest in...”) lo and behold, his pair of suckers are right across the street, marching up to the bank. 

said suckers, are, of course, porky and gabby, now cast as children. for porky especially, his age was inconsistent in the ‘30′s and early ‘40′s cartoons--sometimes he was a child, sometimes he was an adult. more often than not, he was a young adult, and would obviously remain that way through the vast majority of his filmography, but there are a few exceptions, such as here. after all, he did debut as a school child. bobe cannon animates the closeup of the duo at the bank, porky toting a bag of money. gabby, voiced here by storyman cal howard as opposed to mel blanc, urges porky not to store away his money (”let’s buy us a car, or a yacht, or a trip to europe, or a chocolate soda or somethin’!), but porky refuses. “uh-uh, i’m eh-geh-geh-geh-gonna sock my eh-meh-mo-mo--dough in here and get eh-teh-teh-two percent!” bobe’s animation of porky is easy to spot in the clampett toons, especially around 1938-1939, where he would typically draw porky with buck teeth.

suddenly, honest john swoops in himself to stop the boys from going any further. he introduces himself as john gusher, doing some gushing of his own as he describes how fortune is going to smile down upon them. jerry hathcock’s timing is excellent as he shows the kid his card, zipping it out of his pocket and back in again at the blink of an eye. without giving the boys any time to think for themselves, john pushes the kids to the oil site, ranting and raving about the wondrous business opportunity before them. to demonstrate, john jabs his cane into the soil, where a mini oil gusher spurts up on command--”presto!”

more succinct comedic timing as john, finally winding down his spiel, concludes “i won’t take any more of your valuable time. a little parting word, let me say...” after a pause, he jumps right back in with a breathless delivery of “this land is so saturated with oil that you can literally wring it out with your fingers!” he does, of course, just that, much to the delight of the kids. 

john carey takes over and does a rather impressive little scene of porky and gabby contemplating signing the deed. gabby urges porky on, telling him that they won’t get another chance like this (prompting a rather humorous delivery of “uh... ‘til death do us part” from earle hodgins as john.) carey’s animation is extremely smooth, brimming with subtle character action. porky and gabby’s differences shine, but also unite: gabby is much more outspoken about his eagerness to sign the deed, nudging porky and literally pushing him to sign the deed. porky, on the other hand, is more cautious and timid, having to mull it over by thinking and tapping his chin with the pen. but, of course, porky shares gabby’s excitement--it doesn’t take much for him to change his mind. he signs the deed, gabby excitedly looming over his shoulder. even the animation of john tapping and signaling towards the deed is well crafted. john carey’s animation is very appealing--once chuck jones would leave the clampett unit, carey would take over as his layout man, all the way until 1941 when he moved to norm mccabe’s unit. 

the boys are now excused, free to dig for oil. the shift from minor to major key in the underscore of “with plenty of money and you” reflects their excitement as they rush to get the equipment. bobe cannon animates gabby drilling into the soil--he strikes something, and sure enough, he hauls up an entire canister of oil. he’s delighted, rather than outraged or confused at being scammed, gleefully remarking “porky, look! oil!”

thus sparks the B plot of the cartoon. this isn’t as segmented as other clampett cartoons with A and B plots as, say, porky’s party, but it’s a start--clampett would sort of introduce the concept of having A and B plots in his cartoons, which wasn’t quite something that existed before in pre-existing warner bros. cartoons (off the top of my head, anyway.) a stray dog stumbles upon the oil site, curiously approaching the dirt pile left by porky as he digs for sweet, sweet “erl”. much to the dog’s delight, porky digs up a bone, which the dog takes away and buries for himself. the scene (animated by bill hammer) definitely takes inspiration after the rising popularity in pluto cartoons over at disney, demonstrating that WB wasn’t entirely free from the disney stranglehold just yet.

 as the dog digs, the bone is suddenly propelled into the air by a mini-gusher. dog carefully covers the gusher by lowering the bone down, but gets smacked in the face in the process as the gusher propels upwards once more. bill hammer was an animator over at the iwerks unit, and a bit of that iwerks flavor is still present in the dizzy lines hammer animates after the dog gets struck in the head with the bone. resigned, the pooch covers the hole back up, only to get squirted in the eye by another gusher. and, to top it all off, we have more Naughty Clampett Humor as the gusher from before brushes against the dog’s nether regions, prompting him to giggle delightedly. this isn’t the first nor last gag of its kind in a warner bros cartoon--especially a clampett cartoon! frantically, the dog attempts to plug up all of the rapidly appearing gushers beneath him, a double-exposure technique used to convey the urgency of his plight. gushers prevail as the pup is launched into the air, propelled by a stream of oil beneath each paw. in all, the scene drags along and definitely plays into that “curious puppy” humor filled with polite chuckles, but some of hammer’s poses and facial expressions make for a treat.

back to the boys in the next sequence, handled by bobe cannon. gabby, perched on a jackhammer, asks porky how to operate it, but he immediately begins drilling uncontrollably before he can finish his sentence. cal howard’s vocals as gabby are amusing, especially his ad-libbed cries for help--his gabby is less scratchy and high pitched than mel’s gabby, and instead deeper voiced and more goat-like in inflection, sounding like he’s bleating at certain points. porky rushes to speak into the hole that gabby dug himself into, anxiously asking “uh-guh-eh-guh-eh-gabby! uh-weh-eh-where are ya?” gabby answers his query by digging out of an adjacent hole, breaking cartoon physics by drilling and floating upside down in the air. he manages to land safely, the drill stopping just enough for him to chew porky out for not helping him. and, of course, the drill starts up again, sending gabby within the earth’s soil once more. porky asks if he’s alright, prompting a bleat-y “what do you think!?” from an offscreen gabby. it should be noted that the underscore here is, of course, “the merry go round broke down”, a rather fitting and amusing choice. interestingly enough, clampett’s next entry, roval’s rival, would be the first cartoon to debut that song as the looney tunes theme song, which would be used all the way up until the last short in 1969.

chuck jones hones in on one of his three specialties: dogs (the others being drunks and close-ups--sometimes all three at once!) he animates the malcontent pooch fiddling with his bone. a bump in the ground, and a gopher pops up, doing a little twirl in the process, bugs bunny style, like a magic trick. clampett always fostered a love of magic tricks, and this fascination pokes through in this scene. the gopher signals for the dog’s attention before ducking inside the hole, much to the dog’s delight--a hole to bury his bone into! as he tosses the bone inside, he’s treated with a rude awakening as the bone is hurled right back up out of the hole. jones’ timing varies wonderfully--the dog is slow to put his bone back in the hole, but once he does he jumps to cover it up quickly, resulting in some intriguing psuedo-smears. after all, it would be his own cartoon, the dover boys at pimento university, that really brought the magic of smears to life. the animation of the dog twitching his eye on one’s is another great touch.

the gopher returns to bonk the dog on the head with the bone, which segues into a series of magic tricks (scored fittingly with “she was an acrobat’s daughter”.) the gopher shrinks the bone into his hand, reducing it to nothingness, much to the befuddlement of the pooch. tried and true, the gopher brings the bone out from behind the dog’s ear, pointing at it excitedly as the pup can only stare in bewilderment. gopher buries the bone, signaling for the dog to dig it back up. delighted, fido digs for his beloved bone, and is greeted with a spurt of oil right in the face. to top it off, the gopher brings the bone out from the recesses of the dog’s mouth, ending the show by retreating back in his hole. heartbroken, the pup begins to cry mournfully, pounding his fists against the ground and kicking his legs. in all, the scene is a very nice one. not very snappy, but chuck’s timing is full of momentum and personality, and his drawings are very appearing. there are some angles of the dog’s head that just SCREAM chuck jones--they look like something straight out of one of his cartoons. some aspects of these magic tricks, such as the gopher shrinking the bone to nothingness, would be used in chuck’s own cartoon, prest-o change-o, a mere two years later in 1939. the gopher itself IS very bugs bunny-esque in execution.

transition back to our piggy protagonist, hacking away at the ground with a pick-axe. he hits a sweet spot, excitedly reaching for his bucket as oil spurts out of the ground. just as he’s able to collect a few drops, we cut to our favorite huckster john, who snickers as he turns the hose valve off, thus eliminating the geyser. porky digs again, this time striking one of the sprinkler systems connected to the hose. we get a closeup, where porky is squirted straight in the eye by the hose.

honest john himself opts to scope things out. “what’s the matter, sonny boy? you aren’t discouraged, are you?” porky displays his childlike innocence (a property that would carry on to his adult years as well, but is especially strong here since he is a kid in this picture) as he wipes away his tears. “you’re je-je-je-just a crook, and i want my muh-me-muh-me-muh-me-money back!” john, ever the haggler, proposes that porky return the deed in return for a $1 bill. 

norm mccabe takes over from john hathcock, whose animation is muddied by noticeably poor inking. pan to the ground, where we see a black slick hiding under the soil, the words “OIL!” bubbling up to make its appearance obvious, with gabby drilling dangerously close to it. pan back up to more norm mccabe animation, a switch--clampett LOVED to switch his animators around. so much so that identifying his later cartoons can be infuriatingly difficult because he would switch his animators in the middle of a scene out of seemingly nowhere. he wasn’t the only director to do this, but he certainly did it often. nevertheless, we pan back to porky and john. porky trepidatiously prepares to hand john the deed, who greets it with outstretched hands. just as gloves prepare to make contact with paper, gabby strikes the “SAME OIL!”, the typography playfully melting into a true oil geyser as goat, weasel, and pig are all catapulted into the air by a real, genuine gusher, scored by (what else?) “we’re in the money”. the layout of the oil geyser raining down upon the camera is at a nice up-angle, very tashlin-esque and intricate, if only for a second or two.

gabby still drills aimlessly around on the geyser as porky, holding onto the deed with john, remarks “a guh-gusher! i’m r-ri--i’m w-we-weal--i’m a buh-be-buh-be-buh-billionaire!” suddenly, porky realizes he’s still holding onto the deed with john, and thus sparking a tug of war between the two as he stutters threats (”i’ll tell my be-be-big brother on you!”) to the huckster. 

thankfully, gabby, who has been drilling aimlessly for the past few minutes, saves the day by accidentally drilling into the back of john’s pants. earle hodgins’ screams are hilarious (and sound almost genuine), as is bill hammer’s animation of the weasel being held hostage by the drill running around in the back of his pants. the deed is now in porky’s clutches, who grabs gabby and pulls the both of them to the ground. hammer’s drawings of porky especially in this last shot of them preparing to fall down are very, VERY appealing and cute.

both kids on the ground, porky holds up the white, elongated object in his hand, gleefully declaring he got the deed... or so he thinks. jerry hathcock does porky’s closeup as he realizes the precious deed he holds in his hand is, in fact, a bone.

dejected, the kids are left to mope, until a little bump in the ground comes to solve all of their problems. chuck jones animates the final scene of the Magic Gopher coming in to save the day: porky hands him the bone, and, much to his head-shaking surprise, is met with the deed right in the gopher’s hands after just a flick of the wrists. porky reaches out for the deed, prompting the gopher to shake his finger--always a catch. 

“partners? 50-50, even steven?” porky nods. with the deal made, the gopher helpfully rips the deed in half, giving porky the bottom half. iris out on the gopher winking, holding up the top half of the deed (emblazoned as such) in victory.

while this isn’t the most rousing clampett entry of them all, it’s certainly one that i revisit quite often and am rather fond of. it has plenty of fun and intriguing animation--john carey’s scene of the boys signing the deed is just fantastic. his animation is very grounded and smooth. while the psuedo-pluto scenes aren’t the most exciting pieces of work around, the chuck jones sequence with the gopher and dog are especially impressive, highlighting just how strong jones’ draftmanship was. clampett’s cartoons became much more wild and loose after jones left the unit (just look at porky in wackyland), and chuck certainly seemed to ground clampett, but at the same time, the lack of jones’ draftsmanship was rather apparent upon his exit. he’s a very strong force, and that sequence with the dog is no exception. earle hodgins does a great job as honest john, as well as voicing salesmen in general--he was also the salesman in tex avery’s porky the rainmaker a year earlier. i love mel blanc to death and have nothing but praises to shower him in, but it is always fun to have other people like earle hodgins to come up and voice characters alongside him. cal howard does a fine job as gabby, too.

speaking of gabby, as i mentioned earlier, this is his final cartoon. i have this odd fascination with gabby. these clampett cartoons i’m going to be reviewing are some of the first LT cartoons i watched as an adult, and therefore have a fonder place in my heart than others. so, watching the iwerks cartoons that clampett was heavily involved in, gabby was introduced to me VERY early on and i’ve been fascinated with him since. out of his three entries, he became more and more watered down: his fury and anger is practically nonexistent here in comparison to how bitter he was in porky and gabby. while i find him interesting, i don’t shed too many tears over his absence--daffy will always be porky’s best sidekick, and i’m not saying that because i’m biased! nevertheless, gabby is an interesting enigma, serving as WB’s failed attempt at a donald duck for porky’s mickey (who is much richer in personality than mickey himself, as we’ll explore, much to my unbridled excitement!) gabby WAS slated to return in porky’s party, alongside petunia, but was instead scrapped for a penguin character instead. thus, gabby would take a near 80 year absence, being revived in 2018 in wabbit/new looney tunes, voiced by bob bergen. 

so, overall, i recommend this cartoon! i view it more fondly than it probably needs to be viewed, but it’s a fun, early entry that makes for a good, leisurely watch. 

link!

#lt #looney tunes #get rich quick porky #clampett #reviews #long post #i'm gonna try putting a readmore so i don't clutter up dashes.. but please read it! i don't want that to make these get less exposure #i don't do these for clout of course i do it for educational purposes because i want to share my passion and love for these cartoons with #you guys so you know what's going on and why i love these cartoons so much #but i don't spend 5 hours on one cartoon for 0 notes yaknow? so if the reviews with readmores get significantly less traction/overlooked #then i'll stop 'em. but we'll see...!

[junie-bugg]

Prospects and Propriety - Chapter Two

Summary: Everlark Jane Austen AU

Katniss Everdeen and her younger sister Prim are the adopted daughters of Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, a wealthy man with no biological heirs. By the rules of Panem society, an older sibling must be married before the younger can wed. In a time when women have no means of making their own living, marriage is the only way for Katniss to save her sister from destitution and set her up for a happy marriage of her own. Katniss sets her sights on Mr. Gale Hawthorne, a wealthy man who just moved to Whitley and who seems to have his eye on her. But what of the poor baker’s boy who once took a beating to save her life?

Read here on Tumblr or on my AO3 account: izzacrosswriting

Warning: I do plan on this series getting a lil smutty. There will be graphic depictions of violence, sex, and possibly death. I’m still working everything out:)

Nature ambiance(s):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ9uyQI3pF0&t=1694s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUjUhZ1Yy7Y

Music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQbx-OkfN-M

(If you want to listen to this song on Spotify it's called Symphony No.5 in C Sharp Minor: 4. Adagietto (Sehr Iangsam))

Word Count: 3125

Chapter Two

Prim and I have the next day off of lessons. We’ve been homeschooled ever since we came to live with Haymitch, but the weekends are saved purely for whatever we see fit to fill them with. For me, that’s mostly hunting and being out in the woods, unless the weather is bad, and sometimes not even then. 

If I decide to stay at home I usually lounge around with a book and see what Prim is up to. It’s mostly knitting, dress-up, or playing with the ugly cat Haymitch let her keep a few years back. Prim named him Buttercup, claiming that his matted, ruddy coat matched the bright yellow of the flowers she so adored. I had wanted to drown the thing in a bucket when we caught him stealing scraps from the kitchen, but Haymitch had laughed, even picked the thing up by the scruff of his neck and shook him around. 

“Look at this little guy, sweetheart. He’s a survivor. We can’t kill him!” He had placed the dirty, mewling kitten into Prim’s arms and the thing had hissed at me. I was worried he’d give Prim some kind of disease but he never did. I don’t feel gratitude towards him though. Only suspicion. It could still happen. 

When I want to be alone I go to my greenhouse. Really it’s Prim’s and my greenhouse, but ever since she found maggots in the compost pile nearly two years ago, she hasn’t stepped foot in there.  The greenhouse is small, maybe a third the size of my bedroom, but it’s peaceful. Especially when it storms and I can hear every hollow beat of the raindrops on its glass roof. It’s situated on the edge of the grounds by the tree line that morphs into the large forested hill behind Victor Greene, Haymitch’s estate. Over the years I’ve planted herbs and flowers and medicinal plants I’ve found on my journeys into the woods. The plants do well here in the rows of dark soil I’ve fortified with compost and fertilizer. The whole place smells of earthy rot and there’s something about how sunlight scatters lazily through the frosted windows that calms me. There’s a nook on the far side of the greenhouse, past all the plants, where I’ve scattered some quilts and pillows on a wide triangular window ledge. It’s a perfect place to read or sleep. Or sing. 

This is the only place where I let myself sing. I don’t even do it in the woods, always afraid someone else taking a stroll will hear me or that I’ll scare away game. Ever since Prim and I were placed under Haymitch’s care, really ever since our dad died, I refuse to sing in front of others. Maybe it’s because I’m shy and I don’t like people listening to my voice swelling and breaking on the high notes. Or maybe I’m lying to myself and I don’t sing in front of others because it’s too painful to remember a time when my life was filled with music. Mountain aires and lullabies and love songs, all sung by my father. I guess I don’t like breaking apart when there’s an audience. But when I’m alone I can shatter beneath the notes for a time, before I’m needed back up at the house. 

Today, however, instead of knitting or playing hide and seek in the gardens, Prim has informed me she wants to walk to the village. “You need new ribbons for the ball!” She squeaks as I button up her light pink dress from behind. We have servants available who help us dress or bathe or brush our hair but I always like helping Prim myself. She looks like a tiny little princess with her frilly dress and her curls pulled back with a pearl white ribbon. In contrast, I look plain in a forest green frock and my light brown shawl. 

“I told you, Prim. I’m not going.” I struggle with the last button. Prim has been going through a growth spurt and soon she’ll be too big for this dress. I feel sad, watching my little sister growing up so fast. 

“I heard Mrs. Winthrop and Ms. Trinket talking and they said you had to go,” She’s grinning so hard I can see the slight gap between her two front teeth. “Because Mr. Hawthorne is going to be there.” 

Ah, yes. My supposed husband-to-be. So even Prim has heard about Ms. Trinkets’ ridiculous arrangements. A man with that much money has his pick of the litter when it comes to choosing brides. I’m not ugly, but I’m no exquisite beauty either. Not like some of the girls I see around Whitley. I have no fortune of my own, really no status either besides being Haymitch’s ward and that will go up in smoke the second he dies. Most likely Mr. Hawthorne will look right through me and move on. But the news that I’m being forced to attend the public ball worries me. The whole village will be there. Including him. The baker’s boy. 

Maybe some new ribbons aren’t such a bad idea. 

We turn down an offer for the carriage and instead walk along the main road into Whitley. My boots have barely brushed the cobblestone sidewalks when Prim is dragging me into the seamstresses’ shop. The dressmaker, Cinna Ludgate, and the tailor, I think her name is Portia Peever, both turn to welcome us. Prim tells Mr. Ludgate about my need for new ribbons and in a flash he pulls down the display from the ceiling, winking at me as he walks back to the counter. 

There are so many to choose from. Streams of all colors flutter between my outstretched fingertips like butterfly’s wings. I see ribbons of frilly lace, satin, velvet, and even silk. My eyes land on a simple, white cloth ribbon with a delicate embroidered lavender pattern. I hold it up for Prim’s inspection and she declares I have to buy two in case I manage to get one dirty before the ball. 

I’ve just handed Mrs. Peever the money for the ribbons when the bell over the door rings. In walks Ms. Delly Cartright, one of Prim’s closest friends, and her older sister, Ms. Marianne Cartright. Their father is the village shoemaker, so they’re well known and well-liked by almost everybody. Delly is Prim’s age which gives them plenty to talk about. Prim grabs a hold of Delly and begins showing her the latest shipment of buttons Mr. Ludgate has displayed. 

Marianne is one year younger than me but we’ve never exchanged more than simple pleasantries. I dread small talk but from my personal experience, a trip into town wouldn’t be deemed official without at least one awkward encounter. 

“Are you coming to the ball, Ms. Everdeen? You missed the last one,” Marianne asks. She’s absolutely gorgeous, with big, blue doe eyes and a pouty mouth. Her nose is small and her figure slender. She is what they call a “country belle” in Town. I know at least five love songs written about girls like her. I expect in a few years Prim will grow to be one herself. 

“The dancing was splendid. I do hope you’re coming next week,” She continues.

I hold up my ribbons in response. “My tutor Ms. Trinket won’t let me miss it.” I force my mouth into a smile. 

“Oh,” Marianne’s eyes have settled on my ribbons. They’re probably a tad dull for her taste seeing as there were velvets and silks to choose from, but I like the simple flower design. The white cloth paired with the purple and green thread looks pretty. “Well, as my darling mother always says: simple never goes out of style.” She smiles up at me but the warmth doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “My sister and I are here for my dress fitting. I can’t wait to show everyone what Mr. Ludgate made me for the ball. It’s a custom piece!” She practically squeals. I nod and bid her goodbye, waving Prim over so we can leave. I breathe a sigh of relief as we exit the shop. I hate girl talk. 

With our main objective for coming to Whitley carried out, my feet automatically turn towards home, but Prim has other ideas. “Can we look at the cakes, Katniss?” She begs. She’s like a little puppy. I can’t refuse, though I grow more anxious with every step closer to the bakery we get. 

I know what this is. A look at the cakes in the window leads to Prim asking to go inside. It’s happened before and I’ve been lucky enough to avoid him. He works alongside his parents and two older brothers anyway. What are the chances that he’ll be manning the counter and not the ovens in the back? 

Prim pulls me through the bakery doors and runs to press her face against the display case. I hear a call of “I’ll be right there!” from the back, followed by a grunt and the shuffling of boxes. I join Prim and am just starting to admire the selection of pastries when I hear a quiet gasp and look up. 

It's him. The baker’s youngest son. I don't know him by name but I remember him. Of course, I remember him. I can almost feel the icy sheets of rain and the hollow numbness of hunger from that horrible day as I meet his gaze. 

Our father had died three months earlier. He had been a poor wheat farmer but the income from the harvest was enough to support a small household. My mother traded plants and home remedies to supplement what our empty pockets couldn’t buy. One winter, my father had been kicked in the head by his horse. My mother did everything she could but even as young as I was, I knew he had died before he hit the ground. After that my mother stopped eating. She just sat in bed and stared at the walls while her children turned to skin and bone. I did everything to try and rouse her but it was no use. With our father dead so too was her will to live. 

At eleven I became the sole provider of the family. I ventured into town alone to sell that damn horse, some old jewelry, and even dresses of my mother’s from her merchant days, but the money ran out quickly and there was more to buy than food. Our hearth sat cold, unused, and wanting of wood, and we resorted to rubbing ourselves raw to keep warm. We stopped attending school in the village, afraid that a teacher would see how hollow we were becoming and would whisk us away to the orphanage. I had seen orphans in the schoolyard, their faces empty and their shoulders slumped in defeat. I would never let that happen to Prim. 

We had eaten nothing but dried mint leaves in water for three days before I decided to try selling some of Prim’s old baby clothes in town. The clothes were threadbare and faded so nobody had wanted them. My arms were shaking so violently from cold and malnourishment that I ended up dropping them in a puddle. I decided to leave them there, afraid that if I bent over I wouldn’t be able to get back up. 

I found myself stumbling around behind a row of brick buildings. The rain had started and I was soaked to the bone. The smell of baking bread carried over the frigid air and I realized I was behind the bakery. The back door was open and I stood, trancelike, basking in the warm glow of the ovens before a thought floated through my foggy head. Maybe they had food scraps in their trash. A crust of bread or rotting vegetables, something only my family was desperate enough to eat. I lifted the tops off of the bins and my hopes died when I saw that their insides were heartbreakingly bare. 

Suddenly, I heard a woman screeching. It was the baker’s wife. She spat remarks about how she was sick of people going through her trash bins and if I didn’t leave she would call law enforcement. As I dropped the lids and backed away I saw a boy peeking out from behind his mother’s skirts. I recognized him from school but we had never talked. 

With my final hope gone I slumped against a scrubby little apple tree in their yard. My knees buckled and I slipped down into the mud. I would rather die than go home empty-handed to Prim’s gaunt face and my mother’s sickly, unblinking eyes. 

I heard a commotion from the bakery and then the ring of metal on flesh. 

“Feed it to the pigs you worthless creature! No one decent will buy burnt bread!” The witch screeched. There was the boy again, come out the back door clutching two blackened loaves. A bright red mark shone on his cheek and my heart twisted when I realized his mother must have hit him. He looked between me and the pigpen, and then glanced back towards the door. His mother must have gone up to front to serve a customer because then I heard him sloshing his way through puddles to get to me. 

“Take them!” He urged, pressing the loaves into my skeletal hands. “Take them! Go!” As quickly as he came he was gone, back into the kitchens. I watched him disappear. As he closed the door only then did I realize what he had done for me. 

Two loaves of bread! And they weren’t even that burned, really only the crusts had been damaged. I quickly pressed them to the skin under my shirt and hurried home. The searing heat from the loaves roused something within me. I couldn’t die. Not when I had Prim to take care of.

I dropped the loaves on the table and stopped my sister from savagely tearing a chunk off for herself. I sat her down, forced our mother to join us, and then began scraping off the blackened bits. That night we feasted on two slices of bread each, afraid so much food might make us sick. The loaves were hearty, filled with nuts and bits of cranberry. I had never tasted anything so good in my entire life. 

 As I predicted, it was a teacher that found out about our situation. Upon our absence at school, she had come looking for us and found Prim and I living in squalor with a mother that was too sick to care. I thought that was it, that we were to be sent to the orphanage now and our mother taken away to an institution. But a man by the name of Haymitch Abernathy, wealthy and lacking a family of his own, intervened. He had heard of our misfortunes from hushed gossip around the village and had petitioned to adopt us. Our mother was eventually sent to an institution by the sea and we’ve lived with Haymitch, fed and clothed and taken care of, ever since. 

The baker’s boy saved our lives that day. Surely I would have given up and died under that apple tree if it wasn’t for the kindness he showed me. I owe him everything. And because of that, I will never be able to pay him back. 

I take him in now. He's taller than he was before. Much taller. His chubby child’s build has been replaced with an imposing stature that takes up almost the entire doorway. I guess a lifetime of hefting bakery pans and kneading dough has left him broad-shouldered and muscular. 

“Katniss,” he says. I can tell he’s surprised to see me. His voice is deep and I note that his blonde hair curls with sweat. There’s a streak of flour on his cheek and an apron tied around his waist.

“It’s Ms. Everdeen,” I correct him. It’s out before I can stop myself and as soon as I say it I want to bite my own tongue off. How pretentious I must sound. It's only after Prim has begun ordering a sugar-dusted fruit tart from the case that I realize with a start that the baker's boy knows my name. 

His face is flushed and pink when he turns his eyes to me. 

“I'll take four of those cookies,” I get out. “The orange lilies.” My voice sounds weaker than normal. I hate this. I feel fragile under this boy’s gaze. And that's when I realize: he must be waiting for his thank you. For the bread that he burned and took a beating for. But I can't do it, either because Prim is with me and it would confuse her and probably embarrass the boy, or because it's been five years and the time for ‘thank you’ is over. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he doesn't remember. He probably only knows my name because it was a source of gossip around town when Haymitch adopted Prim and I. He must remember me from then. 

He gives me a timid smile, deftly wraps the cookies in parchment paper, ties them securely with a piece of fringed twine, and hands the package to me. I suddenly feel the need to fill the silence so I blurt: “They’re beautiful. The cookies.” 

He manages to turn a shade pinker. “Thank you, I do most of the frosting around here. I made those this morning.” As I hand him the money for the treats, I assume that's it. That was the end of our conversation. But my tongue is moving again. 

“They look just like the lilies in the woods. I see them on my morning walks.” 

“Yes, exactly,” He grins and reveals a charming set of dimples. “I’ve seen them when I go to the woods to paint.” 

I don't know what else to say and Prim has started tugging on my hand. She’s probably anxious to get home so we can enjoy our treats with tea, so I give him one last look and utter one last thank you before heading back out into the crowded square. 

“Do you know him?” Prim asks as we begin walking towards home. 

“No,” I say, a little relieved to be leaving. I can't catch my breath and my heart is racing like it does when something frightens me. “I don't even know his name.”

“Well, I've never seen you be that talkative with a stranger.” She beams. “Wait until I tell Mrs. Winthrop!” 

Is that what he is to me? A stranger? I shake the thought from my head.

He knew my name. The very least I can do is learn his. 

#thg #The Hunger Games #thg fanfic #everlark #katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #haymitch abernathy #gale hawthorne #everlark fluff #jane austen au #pride and predujice #regency #regency au #everlark fanfiction #everlark fanfic #finnick odair

[jali-writes]

thirty-one asks for writers.📜

what is a genre you love reading but will probably never write?

horror, cyberpunk  

which writer has had the greatest stylistic influence on your writing?

fuck if i know

has a specific song or lyric ever inspired a work of art for you?

HAS IT

a writer whose personal lifestyle speaks to you?

i’m not interested in the lifestyles of other creators. it’s personal and furthermore, whatever works for them usually doesn’t work for me.

do you write both prose or poetry? which do you prefer?

prose. i hate poetry.

do you read both prose and poetry? preference?

see above

which languages do you write in? which do you want to write in someday?

uhhhhhhhh english??? unless you wanna count french, my n5 japanese, my fluency in html and css, and my pidgin python?

share a quote or verse that has been on your mind lately.

It is said that when his wife died, Cronus wept for one thousand days and nights, collecting his tears and fashioning them into a beautiful crystal devoid of color –for his world felt devoid of love or joy without his lover, and the only beauty he could see were the memories in his tears.

a writer/poet whose life you find very interesting?

again, i literally don’t care. probably the only writer i know anything about was hemmingway, and i think he was a complete chad, with anger issues and addition issues. plus all his work sucks, don’t @ me.

what do you feel about the idea about someone unearthing your unseen or discarded drafts someday, long after your death? what about your personal journal?

i write my diaries with the frame of mind that someday, someone might stumble upon them and have a peek into what life was like during the years of my life recorded. who knows, maybe it’ll help future historians. or maybe they’ll just find me very irritating and pedantic.

do you prefer to write in silence or listen to something? what do you listen to?

lately it’s been chillhop in general. i used to write to just about anything, provided it worked for the scene, but i was younger and more energetic, and uninhibited by the effects of depression.

has an image ever impacted your artistic lens/inspired your work?

yes and no. for my current project, i’ve had in mind different geographical elements, architecture, and fashions for each different location, so i sought out the best i could find based on real-world examples to serve as visual reminders.

what would you describe the experience of writing itself? as in putting the words to paper, not planning or moodboards etc. do you agree with the common idea that the satisfaction lies in reading your work after you are done with it, rather than the process of writing itself?

uhhhh.... writing is .... making words happen in an appealing and emotive way? the satisfaction for me lies in finding just the right words and arranging them just so, so that the exact idea in my head is transcribed for others. but i tend to work in a vacuum so it’s up to my editor(s) to make sure my transcription makes any sense lol

how often do you write?

when depression permits, when i have a story to tell.

how disciplined are you about your writing?

i don’t block time, i just neglect other things in favor of writing. this means going without food or shower or sleep, and i’m well aware it isn’t healthy, but it’s how i roll. my digital files are immaculately named and organized. my diaries and bullet journals are dated, and my written-on-paper drafts are in bound notebooks labelled by volume.

what was your last long-lasting spurt of motivation?

about 2 days ago. i was on a 3 day binge, writing.

have you ever been professionally published? are you trying to be?

some would argue publishing online is “professional enough”, but seeing as all i’ve got are fanfics, i’m gonna say no. i would be sued black and blue if i tried to make bank off those ips. i would very much love to become published in hardcopy one day, but it’s a struggle for me to make my original constructions play out.

do you read literary magazines?

no. in fact i’m not a fan of anything literary, i find it pretentious and the people associated therein imo look down on fiction like it’s a dirty old scab.

a lesser known writer you adore?

n/a

do you write short stories? do you read them?

write, yes, read, no. unless it’s something my friend sends me for feedback, of course.

do you prefer to involve yourself with literary history and movements or are you more focused on the writing itself? any favourite literary movements?

we don’t do literary anything in this house. it’s pure fiction or gtfo. i barely have the energy to write at all most days, nevermind change the world and the way it views [concept] at large.

are you working on anything right now?

yes.

how did you get started with writing?

at some point in my late infancy i developed the motor skills to hold a writing implement. i would staple sheets of paper into a booklet and scribble on them, and then read back my “book” to anyone who would listen. i’m told i’ve been making up fanciful stories since i could talk. ironically enough by the time i was expected to learn how to read, i was so steadfastly against it, my mother and teachers feared i’d have to repeat first grade or be illiterate for the rest of my life. somehow my mom got through to me and after that, i consumed more books through scholastic orders than food. by 2nd grade i was reading at a 5th grade level; by 3rd i was reading at a 9th grade level.

do you have any “writer friends”?

at least 2

what is your earliest work you can remember?

i was 11 years old, in 6th grade, and my english teacher told us to make up our own fairytale. so i wrote about my cat.

have you found your writer’s voice yet? does your work have a distinct tone?

i have a portfolio of voices.

do your works share themes/are commonly about certain topics? or are your subjects all over the place?

mythology, love in all its forms, acceptance, family, self-discovery, neato buildings, supernatural, magic

what does writing mean to you?

the act of creation; getting to see places and journey with people i’d never otherwise meet; thinking about the way people are

in an alternate universe, imagine you had not found writing. what do you think would be your fixation otherwise?

screwing on the caps of toothpaste tubes

do you feel defined by your work?

as far as i can tell, i have yet to be defined by anything. i think being defined by something means it has ownership over you, but i am the creator, the maker, the god here, and i own it all. it does not own me.

have you ever written/considered writing under a pen name? if you would be okay saying, why?

yeah but i’m not saying what that penname would be because that would ruin the anonymity of having such a name.

#writer #writer q&a

[bstormhands]

Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure Plus Est En Vous Live Thoughts

Here it goes, the finale. Oh boy. 

=

Oh! Eugene is doing a story recap. 

Aw, two best friends.

That journal page looks a lot like the play poster.

LOL. It’s complicated. That’s the understatement of the series.

Goat headed monster and they show Milton and Shorty. Great gag there.

This is Rapunzel we’re talking about. Aw!

Hmm. I thought things were a lot more spiky where the Sundrop used to be. 

Arianna’s here! Willow built a brick wall in the bedroom. Must have been pretty big room. Knocked that wall down, oh that’s great. 

Ok so that’s where the promo came from. It makes way more sense in context. 

Nice callback to Tangled Before Ever After. 

Gosh, the music is epic. 

They finished the arch, I notice its not a gate, in the wall. 

The wolf too? Nice! And the waterfall. Okay they are really making it obvious they are redeeming Cass if they are racapping the bonding sequence from TBEA.

And we’re in the Snuggly Ducking with Eugene and the gang. 

What Would Rapunzel Do? True, Rapunzel would sing a bouncy tune. I love how Quirin hides his face behind his hand.

Nice backup there Lance. 

“We’re doomed”-Edmund. 

And cue Rapunzel coming in and here comes the song. 

When did Varian learn the piano?

Pascal fighting with a little pink paper umbrella is hilarious.

I take it this is called “Thru it All.”

Oh they finally notice the mark.

Varian is stepping into Demanitus’ shoes.

Snow/Eugene Fitzherbert = Snakes/Indiana Jones

Rapunzel put Cass’s room back together. Dusty. The Rose and the Cassandrium! 

It Eugene’s face is back on the practice dummy, so did “No Time Like the Past” not happen?

Cass is having a hard time with the past. Really doesn’t like the maid in waiting headdress. 

Oh look a climbing cliff, I’m sure its fine after a thousand years.

Oh no, not the Great Oak Tree!

Eugene had to ask.

Vigor! Talk about going hard on an esthetic. 

Great gag with the girls. 

That’s a great idea for a torch.

I would have expected a better lock then that.

G-bug?!

How the hell did Demanitus create a habitat like that at that high altitude?! How did the book survive?

Lance, No touchy! He touchy.

“Ah, nuts.” Is that all you can say, yes, it is because Disney, but yeah that’s getting ficced so much.

Ah yes, there’s always something. But what about luring her close to it?

Ah back tot he Demanitus device mountain.

Why does she care about Corona so much? Did she have a crush on Demanitus?

Oh Edmund, never change, okay maybe a little. 

Oh, we’re doing the proposal now!?

So is Quirin affected by the mind trap or not?

Hulk!Ruddiger and Wolf!Catalina are awesome! But that’s not a good plan.

It’s locked! It’s unlocked!

Rapunzel finds Zhan Tiri. I would urge caution. 2 millennia, where did that come from?

I so love the animation, someone was having so much fun animating BooBerry.

Wait what?! Rapunzel wasn’t paying attention about the eclipse. Why is her sigil glowing? They ever established it was magical, I thought it was just a button.

It looks like like a steampunk Stargate!

Important safety tip. 

Oh uh, Quirin’s being controlled. 

Good thinking Varian. But yeah nothing like having to neutralize your dad, again to make life hard. 

So there’s still some sundrop magic in her.

Feral!Zhan Tiri

Oh yeah, great idea, leave the bird in charge. Oh no.

That is the look of a princess with no f***s left to give. 

Aw a song for Cassandra.

The Moonstone is reacting now too, or are we a little bit in the past? Cass is in Rapunzel’s room?

Nice move! Don't trust her at all! But I have my doubts the cage will work.

Zhan Tiri doing puppy eyes is so ridiculous 

Backstory time! She was taller back then. Aw Demanitus had a monkey sidekick. Oh she's always had a boomerang. They had a thing.

The Lost Realm huh. 

Crowley is thoroughly unimpressed by the Lost Realm. 

Toucan Sam, is that you? okay, okay, that place is so creepy, yet fun looking. That has the most wacky vibe ever. They had so much fun doing that place.

Oh, hi Hector. bad to see you.

Why is Cass hanging upside down? Drama of course. OOoo, they were almost close enough.

So Edmund trained the Brotherhood, he's really good. Like Captain America good. 

Pascal is willing to take on Cass.

OOooo, new fighting features.

Raps just walks through the rocks, awesome.

Rhinos can't jump

Speaking too soon, but I love that Kiara calls Varian, V. It has goggles too.

Milton!

Aw, an Umlaut vase.

Dabne, the hood had a name?

Now Raps is starting to fight.

Oh, hi Adria, wondered where you were. 

Whoa, she broke Shadowblade

And now it gets interesting

The power of forgiveness!

Yeah everyone's back from the Lost Realm.

This looks familiar

This is my final form!

Yellow Rocks, not amber this time.

A very unfortunate growth spurt

For Corona!

Aw she apologized

Go for it Milton!

Hot damn that's some acting.

lol she grabbed Catalina

Hooboy the Hurt Incantation. 

You know what? this eclipse is going on for a pretty long time.

Yup Raps always has hope. 

Aw yes, There is more in you

Cool the shard is back.

Frying pans, we all knew!

YES, YES, YES, she cut her own hair!!!!!!

Oh come on don't kill her! That's ain't right!

yes, Yes, YES, YES, YES, YES, ALL THE YES! HEALING INCANTATION!!!!!!! Bring them all back!

Oh yeah, Goddess mode! 

oh no.

Yes! Pascal. LOL Now you know how it feels. 

HUG!!!!!!!!!

Walls are better.

Eugettle? blech

Nice new ranger outfit

AWwwww They said it.

A reprise of "Happily Ever After”!? WHooo!

Aww everyones there.

Finally the proposal!

=

And its over. Ok feeling pretty good. I can handle that ending. 

I admit I was scared for a long time. So many shows have biffed their ending, that having a show with a good ending is …different. And this one has a great ending. It was satisfying and powerful, yeah it didn’t tie up every last loose thread but enough of them. I’m good with it. 

Yeah, I’m good. I think I watch Tangled Ever After tomorrow maybe. I’ve got to digest all this. 

This gets a place on the great stuff list. With Star Trek: The Original Series, Firefly, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and FullMetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. 

#tangled the series #rapunzels tangled adventure #plus est en vous #tts spoilers #rta spoilers #bstormhand's stuff

[novantinuum]

SU movie predictions

Okay, we may not have a trailer yet to go off of but trying to predict things is fun. (And it’ll be funny looking back later and seeing how epically wrong I was lol) 

So my predictions of what I think is realistically plausible to happen:

A Gem actually gets physically shattered/we learn what actually happens to Gems who are shattered

Okay, so this may be a little edgy but hear me out... this movie is 90 minutes. And it’s a movie. Some serious chaos gon’ have to go down to fill the time here. It wouldn’t surprise me to see the Crystal Gems caught in a more perilous situation than usual.

There’s been a lot of theories over the years that shattered Gems are actually still conscious. I think we might gain some more info on that.

I genuinely doubt it’ll be a big character. Prob a one-off character. If anything, just a scenario where the villain is showing the audience that she’s not here to play games. 

There are at least three songs.

Change Your Mind had three and it was only 45 minutes. With double the length, how many more might we see?

My bets are on Steven having at least one, an ensemble song, and p e r h a p s a bad guy song.

Steven and Connie get a relationship upgrade.

These two have such a close bond, and are so obviously smitten with each other that I’m kinda surprised it hasn’t happened already. But what better time for even further development for them than a movie?

There’s definitely gonna be a fusion.

I’ll be surprised if I don’t see some past fusion encores.

And what about new fusions? So many possibilities!

It will be set post Change Your Mind.

I genuinely don’t see the storytelling purpose of setting it before Change Your Mind, so I will be surprised if this movie isn’t set in between CYM and s6. 

I am, however, still unsure whether I think the plot events in the movie will be relevant to the wider arc, or a standalone threat.

The movie reveals a fairly significant remodeling to Steven’s house.

We know Bismuth repaired it while everyone else was on Homeworld, but we still haven’t seen the inside yet.

Perhaps there will be more doors in the Temple now, for the newest official Crystal Gems!

The villain actually isn’t ‘Red Diamond’ or related to the diamonds at all.

While those theories are pretty cool sounding, I’m beginning to doubt that we’re going to be dealing with more diamonds after having pretty much half of season 5 dedicated to rooting out the mysteries with the Great Diamond Authority. At this point, what the show needs is to stretch its wings into the greater ‘universe,’ and what better way of doing that than to introduce an entirely new Gem type? Or, heck- even an entirely new species. Let’s go hog wild.

Rose’s chest in Lion’s mane will have some relevance to the plot.

That chest is still a mystery, and I suspect it’ll be coming up very soon because Steven brought attention to it in late season 4. They started teasing the concept of Steven’s gem being removed in late season 3, and that came to fruition in CYM so... I think we’re coming up on some big answers soon.

At least Garnet and Peridot will be poofed.

Perhaps more characters will be, as well.

Basically, I have a feeling that the really wild visors these two got in CYM were more designed exclusively with that episode in mind, as momentous as it was. They were fun visors, meant to represent everyone’s unity as a Crystal Gem at that moment. I predict that future regenerations of these two will have mostly similar outfits, but with toned down visors.

We see multiple new Gem locations.

Self explanatory, really. I’ll be surprised if we don’t.

By the end of the movie, Steven finally goes through a well-deserved growth spurt and looks his age again. (Like an actual 14 1/2 year old.)

This whole show is about his coming of age. We’ve seen his emotional coming of age. We’re yet to witness his physical coming of age. Like buddy, you still look like an eight year old. XD

And logistically, when it comes to CN advertisement... featuring such a significant character design change (if it ever does happen) within a Big Event TV Movie as opposed to a regular episode would be a wise move. That way, more people are likely to watch it and know what’s going on later when they see that Steven Universe’s title character looks quite different now.

Steven and Co. use his leg ship to travel through space at some point.

The kid has his own spaceship now. The whole galaxy is now his oyster! We’re finally putting the Universe into Steven Universe! I do hope that’s a plot point they utilize well...

The Diamonds feature, and we get a glimpse into how Homeworld is faring post CYM.

Could be part of inciting incidents. Perhaps the villain is someone resisting changes there on Homeworld.

The plot is no longer restricted to just Steven’s perspective.

Rebecca Sugar said in the last episode of the SU podcast that the show, as it continues from here, would be quite different from s1-5, because the story s1-5 was telling is done. That story is, of course, Steven’s coming of age. We saw everything from his point of view, because it was his story.

Thus, I’m predicting that from here on out, it’s not just his story... it’s the Crystal Gems’ story. Perhaps there will even be episodes in the far off future that don’t involve Steven at all- focusing on other Gems or humans instead.

BUT as far as the movie is concerned... 

Normally in s1-5 every scene had to be either: something Steven personally experienced himself or within a fusion, a story that a character was telling to Steven, or some interaction Steven overhears/eavesdrops on. I think it’s likely that this rule will be lifted from here on out. Which means, we could see a conversation between, say, Garnet and Pearl that Steven is nowhere around to see. Sky’s the limits.

And some absolute spitballing that really doesn’t have much “evidence” or plausibility on happening, but that I’d think would be pretty cool anyways:

We see Rose’s last moments/Steven’s birth.

If they were ever to flashback to this, now would be the time.

Could be an interesting way to quickly establish Steven’s hybrid nature for any new viewers.

Another human/Gem hybrid exists.

And Steven meets them and takes them under his wing.

This could perhaps be linked to his physical coming of age. Perhaps the thought of this new responsibility... of watching over/helping show the ropes to someone... is what moves him to finally grow up. Shifts his mentality a little older.

#su #steven universe #su theory #su movie #steven universe the movie #my post stuff #there we go an exhaustive list of my predictions

[flyswhumpcenter]

Nurse Café - Chapter 5/6: “Recovery is Nothing but a Filler Arc”

PREVIOUS CHAPTER / NEXT CHAPTER

Fic Summary: Life could have honesty been simpler than that for Hokuto, a second-year Liteature major. There’s, however, someone out there willing to just make it easier on him.

Fandom: Ensemble Stars! (College/Coffeeshop AU) Ships: HokuAn (Anzu/Hokuto)

AO3 version available here.

--------

Chapter Summary: Hokuto finds the process of recovery boring. This is a snippet into this very boredom.

Chapter Wordcount: 1.7K words.

Chapter Notes: Lmao @ my shitty updating schedule (which isn't a thing to begin with). It's technically filler content, but I felt bad about not having at least some snippets into a recovery process and, of course, more pining because who doesn't like pining. I like writing with a lot of sarcasm and this fic is the perfect occasion for it lol. My goal is to actually finish Nurse Café before 2020 rolls around, so we shall see if the last chapter comes out before the new year arrives! (I doubt it, but you know, a week can be enough for this).

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

Recovery was a boring process. A necessary, absurdly boring process.

He supposed it depended on what you needed to recover from. If you only had to recover from a cold, it could be a good occasion to feel cosy: buried under the covers, a cup of hot chocolate in hand, watching some TV programs while a humidifier tried to keep your nose from clogging up… Alas, he wasn’t recovering from a cold at all and must have been in the most boring kind of recovery: the one where he wasn’t well enough to do anything interesting, but not dying enough not to be aware of how much he was wasting his time as he flopped in bed like a fish out of the water.

 At least, and yet a little to his dismay, his grandmother had insisted to watch over him when his friends couldn’t. Sure, she was out of her cast and had recovered her full mobility, but she shouldn’t have been there. He was supposed to do this thing on his own, not get babied all over again. It tasted like failure and disappointment in himself, as if the entire situation wasn’t worth being untrusting of his capabilities.

However, a major part of him was grateful for her to be such a watchful caretaker. It was his fault if he had landed there, he admitted to that fact without hesitation (albeit not without swallowing his pride in for good measure), so he could have been expected to fix his own mistake by himself like a good boy; and yet Grandma was here, tending to him each time he’d open his eyes during the day. He’d have to find a way to thank her later down the line…

 Truth be told, he was relieved that people were checking up on him. In that state of his, his body barely agreed to move out of the bed, and if it accepted, then it’d only be for short spurts of time. The festering headache raging in his skull really didn’t help in the slightest, instead profiting from his incredible vulnerability to do its thing. The more time went and the less he felt that way, usually trapped in a deep daze for most of the time, overthinking things when he was conscious enough to do that. A… fascinating time to be had in perspective, huh.

If it wasn’t Grandma, it was his friends from university. More exactly, two friends: Isara and Anzu. He had specifically for them not to tell anyone else, as he wanted to preserve a little bit of his credibility within the academic premise. It was mostly about food, medicine and cleaning stuff here and there. Before his glassy eyes, the papers on his floor finally disappeared, piling neatly on the desk as he heard conversations without participating. They made recovery less of a chore to go through.

 The only times where he didn’t feel like he was throwing his precious time of the window was when people came in and kept him intellectually awake. Day after day, for an entire week, his favourite moments were still those where Anzu was there, sitting on a chair next to him or simply minding her own business somewhere else in his flat. If his brain wasn’t too confused, she’d stay here more than Grandma and Isara, especially the second as he was permanently busy (he could swear he had heard Anzu making sure he too wasn’t overworked beyond his own mind. Isara only chuckled awkwardly at that).

He’d usually see her do things around, mostly her homework, sometimes something else. After spending almost an entire day sleeping and dazing when he wasn’t unconscious, he could finally truly watch her do things and hum some of her favourite pop songs. She was the most pleasant thing about his recovery, as he could spend some time with her without any major disturbance. He’d never admit it openly, though, because then he’d never see it get lived down.

It felt warmer whenever she was in the room too… Must have been his temperature and the awful sentiment it brought upon him.

 The first time he tried to rise out of bed, it was to help Anzu with putting away some groceries and pay her back for these, and she immediately dropped her bottle of dish soap to pin his shoulders back onto the mattress. Would have it not been such a situation, having her on top of him like that would have surely sent him into a daze; instead, Hokuto was glad to blame the sudden burn in his cheeks on what was left of his fever and shook the other ideas away. God, she did look like she was blushing as she realized how cliché their position had been, but it must have been out of embarrassment… Nothing more than that.

He did retry later in the day, after the nth nap he had taken in the last two days (at least, he thought it had been two days? He didn’t exactly have any screen to check the date on to set straight his scrambled perception of time). Once again, Anzu jumped on him, urging him not to overdo it, albeit they had come to a silent compromise: he could sit up now. It was unbelievable than even such a simple gesture still made his head spin like that. At least, it was stabilizing, so he figured his gyroscope had somewhat fixed itself. How fragile had he made himself, exactly?

 With some more patience, brought upon him by the screams of the body he couldn’t ignore much anymore and everyone’s smiles and words, he had finally reached a point where he could at least wash himself in peace and not risk opening his frontal lobe on the slippery tiles of the shower. If Grandma and Anzu still insisted to make him his food, he started biting back, albeit as hard as a new-born puppy, much to his chagrin and somewhat to Isara’s amusement.

 “I’ve never asked you about that, but I’m curious,” the latter asked him when the three of them were around his table with some fried noodles for dinner. “How in the hell did you put yourself in that situation, Hokuto? It really doesn’t resemble you to be this… careless?”

“Haven’t you asked me that before?”

“Mao has, but you may have… replied with nothing but nonsense, when he did…” Anzu chimed in, scratching her chin with an awkward smile.

He felt his embarrassment rise up in his throat again, but instead decided to clear his throat and brush it aside as much as possible.

“Things piled up, I suppose. I was making a presentation with a tight deadline and taking care of my grandmother who had broken her foot. It got out of control much more than I had anticipated.”

“Why didn’t you ask us to help then?” Isara seemed genuinely confused, or at least curious.

“Both Anzu and you were already busy, and I sincerely doubt Akehoshi would have made anything better for my grandma. Yuuki seemed busy enough as it was too, now that I think about it.”

Truth be told, Hokuto had no real answer to give and it must have felt by his two friends, considering the looks of disbelief they gave each other before realizing they’d both be late to class if they didn’t eat any faster.

 By the end of the week, life was finally back to what it should have been. It still hadn’t prevented Hokuto from disobeying doctor’s orders (he didn’t remember getting examined at any point, but if Anzu was telling him so, then it must have happened at some point…) and grabbing his laptop to write some mails here and there. Braving the headache the brightness of the screen was providing him with, he attempted explaining himself to his prof for his sudden disappearance with his presentation in hand.

Apparently, he had written nothing but gibberish, and that was more than enough to convey to the prof how unwell he had been. He guessed it was convenient, in a way…

 He made sure to thank everyone as much as possible. Unexpectedly, Grandma told him it was her mission as a grandparent to take care of him, especially after he had done so for her; and he felt too humbled to respond anything against that. Isara more or less told him the same, saying it was normal for friends to help each other and that they needed to do so anyway, that he didn’t mind. The amused smirk on this man’s lips as he said that more or less indicated that he had gotten some amusement out of the situation. As soon as he got noticed, though, Isara told him he had been worried and that it was good to see a buddy go back to normalcy. They agreed on that statement.

Still, how could he thank Anzu for all of her services? She had done a ton for him and he had no real way to get back to her on that. She had spent a lot of her precious time trying to fix his mistakes and didn’t spare her words when it came to convincing him that resting was what he truly needed and that it was okay for him not to force himself out of bed this quickly. It really didn’t help that his feelings were having a rave party in the back of his mind…

 “You don’t have to thank me or pay me back,” Anzu responded. “At least, don’t feel forced to do so. I was just happy to take care of a friend!”

The pink on her cheeks was back. Did he happen to still have some fever lingering and playing with his senses?

“I’m just glad you’re alright now. You really scared me when you collapsed like that, you know?”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

“You better do! I don’t want to see that happen to you again, so I hope you’ve learnt the lesson… You’ll be fine from now on, right?”

“I should be. Thank you very much again, Anzu.”

“And you’re still welcome, it’s the third time you thank me in five minutes! Take care, okay? I’d hate to see you this sick again. See you soon!”

“See you soon.”

On that she left, her smile and her perfume leaving the premise of his previously fatigue-riddled flat. It made up for ideal circumstances to realize something: Hokuto was afraid he’d have to soon deal with a whole other kind of sickness.

#enstars #hokuan #anzu (enstars) #isara mao #sickfic #hurt comfort #recovery #caretaking #fatigue #au: college #au: coffeeshop #otp: konpeito chou cream #Fic: Nurse Cafe

[rainbows-fanfics]

My New Reason (Chapter 1)

Chapter 1 |   Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Summary: Louis is falling for someone he really shouldn't be, and the same is happening to Clementine. Loustine/Clouis

Note: This idea for the first chap was inspired from this (X) - Thanks so much! (This is my first attempt at a WDG fanfic as well as the characters, so it MAY not be perfect...)

Clementine's P.O.V.

I find myself coming back to a lot of places I never want to come back to. A.J. and I move around a lot for that exact reason - to not relive the horrors I have once experienced at certain places. But no matter how far we travel, what state we come to or if we escape the city, we always come back to the places I never want to be in. Places that have resurfaced my repressed memories and scars...

Places like these.

Louis, A.J., and I find ourselves standing in front of a lake. What was supposed to be a night-trip double checking the traps turned into land marking the forest, mostly because I made the mistake of asking Louis what he does to find his way back to the school. A question I thought was harmless, easy to answer, and not complicated - but he insisted on showing us what he used...which was, conveniently, a lake.

He turns to me, proud of what he had led us to, as he rests his weapon against a nearby rock.

"What do you think?"

I turn and look at the water, crossing my arms. How could I be impressed? This didn't have anything in it, except a small pond that had formed on the side. I could feel the memories surfacing the longer I looked at it.

"It's a lake."

"I think it's pretty," A.J. says from beside me.

Louis smiles at him, and he smiles back. As much as this lake unnerves me, I have a soft spot for things that make my boy smile. Which, unfortunately, meant Louis. Which is probably why I've stuck around him for so long - after he forgave me for what had happened not too long ago. That and, some other reason...

"Anyone up for a swim?" He asks.

I look over and see the lost look on A.J.'s face, and I have to look away when Louis glances at me. I don't want to give him a response - fearing my answer would be pathetic. I was hoping this would never come up.

"Hey, what's up with the silent treatment?" He shrugged off his trench coat. "I just asked a question."

"....Clem and I don't know how to swim..." A.J. admits softly.

The look of pure shock on his face almost makes me laugh. But I hold in it and turn to him with an expectant look, ready for his reaction. Knowing him, he'd probably spurt out something stupid. I hold my breath and wait for what he has to say.

"...Really?" Was all that came out.

"Yeah." I nodded my head. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Yes! Or, well, uh, no, but..." He rubbed the back of his head. "You remember that song I sang you when we first met?"

"'My Darling Clementine'?" I raised a brow.

"It's just...that song's about a girl named Clementine who drowned." He notices my surprised expression. "Yeah, and I really don't want that to...um, happen to...you."

He had successfully taken off his coat and placed it aside. It was normally hard to tell with that thing on, but he actually wasn't built too bad. There were a few muscles on his arms(even if they weren't that impressive) from wielding chairles all day, but his figure was supported enough. I found myself staring as he doused himself in the water. It wasn't that I was entranced with his figure - rather, curious as I had never seen him shirtless before. I waited until he messed with his hair to speak up.

"I stay away from water as much as I can. At least, ones that are deep."

"I can teach you how to swim. That was actually one of the first things the boarding school taught me." He winks at me.

"I...have a bad experience with rivers," I tell him.

Memories of rolling into that river many years ago, being sucked into that current and dragged on for several miles. That was how I was separated from Christa...The fear I felt in that moment - wondering if I'd finally die. From the exhaustion of staying afloat or from the water that had escaped into my lungs. I've steered away from rivers ever since then, yet I still find myself in situations like these.

I half expect Louis's reaction to be teasing or ridiculing, but he gives a sympathetic look instead. For a moment he seems troubled, and I feel guilty for ever bringing it up, but then he smiles again. He takes a few steps before offering me his hand.

"Do you trust me?"

That was the question of the century. It was hard to find anyone to trust these days. Whenever I put my faith into people, believing they were honest and earned my trust, I just got backhanded later. Either from their betrayal or their death. It was the same fate for anyone I'd ever grown to trust - so the word was starting to lose its meaning.

"Come on," I heard him urge. "It's not like I'm going to throw you in. Pretty sure you'd kick my ass if I did."

Despite everything, I smiled. I really didn't know what it was like to trust someone again - someone that wasn't of my own. But I was getting used to Louis...it was dangerous to get attached, I've experienced the consequences. But my mind recalled something he had said to me awhile ago, the day I went hunting with them.

“There’s only one guarantee - this moment. That’s the only thing you got, only thing any of us got. Might as well enjoy it.”

If I was going to overcome a fear, I may as well enjoy it.

I sigh and begin to take off my boots. A.J. watches intently as I remove my jacket and start rolling up my cargo pants. I place my hat beside him and turn back around, where Louis once again offers his hand out to me. Apart of me is worried of putting this must trust in someone - willingly putting the stake of my own life into their hands. Where I was completely out of control and had to rely on someone else.

I guess I've done a similar thing back when Marlon pointed a gun at me.

I take his hand and slowly take a step into the water. I find my movements shaky as my foot touches the sand underneath. I'm gripping his hand firmer than I'd like, but he doesn't flinch. I can feel his arm hovering around me before he places his other hand on my back, guiding me deeper into the shallows. The water was growing to my knees now.

"See? Not so bad." He comments as I take a sharp breath. I try my best to conceal the fear in my eyes. "You're a natural," he adds.

A.J. giggles from behind us. I roll my eyes. He starts to remove his hand from mine, but I grab it again and hold it tightly. He gives me a surprised look. Instinctively, I reply,

"I'm not really...balanced."

"Oh." He starts to motion me closer to him. "Then come where I am, it's a little more leveled."

I obey and get closer to him, so much that there's only a few inches between our bodies. Even though I'd been lying before, I finally had the courage to let go. I went further into the water a little more, up until it was just under my chest.

"Do you know how to float?" He asks. I give him an impatient nod. "That's good, that's good. Just making sure."

I went far enough that the water was now at my neck. I was starting to get nervous...it felt a lot similar to when the river was pulling me. Where I was surrounded by nothing but water and terror. Louis comes to my side, and I notice that it's just beneath his shoulders. I forget the fact that he's taller than me, sometimes.

"You're doing good, Clem!" I hear A.J. call from afar. I smile and look at Louis. I find the same encouragement from him.

"You are, you know." He lays a hand on my shoulder. "Next step is to submerge your head. You know, take a little dunk underwater."

My eyes grow wide. I never willingly put my head under water. Even when I was forced to, I started to panic and hyperventilate. I do my best to hide the fear from my face the moment it shows, but it's too late, as he looks at me concernedly.

"Are you...um..." He bites his lip. I felt my heart skip a beat; Why was he so attractive? "-Afraid of the water?" He finishes.

"What? No!"

"No offense, Clem, but you look like you've just seen a herd of walkers." His nervous chuckle doesn't assure me. "...If you are, I can help."

I want to deny my fear, in proof that I had none at all, but I go quiet. I really could use the help...swimming was important to survival. I've always felt guilty for not knowing how, especially not ever teaching A.J. I hesitate before nodding. He brings me forward to him with his hand again. I let him guide me close enough that I was just in front of his chest.

"What makes you so scared?" He asks.

I furrow my eyebrows and look away. That was a good question. When did that fear ever surface? I had no problems with the Lee's idea of getting a boat back when I was only a child. Why did water bother me so much now?

"I don't know. My parents told me they'd teach me in our backyard pool, but...this all started before they got back." My eyes look to the water sadly. "I've almost drowned before."

"I'm so sorry."

His tone sounds so genuine - so caring. Many people had the same reaction whenever I let them hear of my past. I normally looked away so I wouldn't see their faces. I'd just be looking at sympathy - because no one could come close to ever understanding what I've been through. But I made the mistake of looking at him, and, oddly, I found his look full of sorrow and heart.

"It's fine. I survived, didn't I?"

He looks upset from that last statement. "Well...yeah, but what if you find yourself here again?"

"That's why I agreed to this. Teach me."

"A little impatient, are we? It's because I'm such a great teacher, right?" I gave him a glare. "Well, like I said, you should get used to the water first. I see you're already in, deeper than I thought, so just submerge your head."

I looked at the water hesitantly.

"It's okay. I'll be right here. If you can't come up, just give me a little wave and I'll get you." He paused. "Deal?"

"Deal..."

I close my eyes and hold my nose, the regret already forming into my stomach as I lowered myself under the water. It took only a few seconds until my head was submerged. It was then I started to feel panicked again...water enveloped me, and it wasn't a comforting feeling. I had memories of being underneath the water again, taken forcefully, and shot up from the water with a loud gasp.

"Clementine!" A.J. yells.

I go by my instinct and lunge forward, grabbing Louis and shaking. I cough the rest of the water out of my lungs. I didn't notice it at first, but he was patting my back helping me get it out. It's only until the water is out that I've realized what I've done. I let go of him right away.

"Sick of me already?" He lets out a disappointed tsk, then notices the redness and fear in my eyes. "Fuck, are you okay?"

"I *cough* am. I don't know what happened..."

"Maybe we should stick to what you know best." Louis cringed and came closer to me. I desperately wanted some distance between us, but I was too afraid to move. "Why don't you float?"

"Yeah...about that 'floating' thing...I only know how to tread water. Kind of."

He crossed his arms jokingly. "And what other lies have you been telling me?"

"Nothing, I swear." I held my hands up and rolled my eyes. I honestly don't think there's ever been an instance where I've lied to him. He shakes his head.

"Well, it's like they told me, your head is naturally 'buoyant'...which means it floats. The easiest way is to float on your back - so you're facing the sky and relaxing your arms and legs so they can float, too. It's actually pretty nice."

"I've never tried that before." I shrugged.

"I'll help you."

He gives me that encouraging smile again. Then he steps forward and takes my hands, much to my surprise, and learns forward so our faces are closer together. My legs practically turned to jelly, and as I lost my strength, I felt him pushing me closer to the surface before I could sink down. Before I knew it, I was facing the night sky and floating on my back. It was a new feeling...almost as if I was on a cloud. I could partially hear the noises of the forest, but I also listened to whatever was happening under the water.

"How...how did you do that?" I asked. I find Louis' face above me - peering down at me with a goofy smile.

"All you have to do is direct your body up, and it'll do the rest." He grinned. I finally got a good look of his missing tooth - I that was attractive, too. "But I'm going to keep holding you. Just because."

"Just because what?"

"Just because."

I roll my eyes. Even if my face feels like it's too close to the water, I'm not afraid this time. All I can really feel is his hand on my back and the other rested on my face. Wait...when did that get there?

"Lou..." I started. I was scared to move my arm, I felt I'd sink without it at my side.

He whistled casually. "Yes?"

As I went to ask him to take it off, he started to rub his thumb in circles on my cheek. This relaxed me, for some bizarre reason, and I fell silent. Instead, I closed my eyes and gently rested the side of my face in his hand. But it was only because my neck was getting tired...not because his palm was warm or that his touch was actually soothing me.

He removed his other arm from my back and brought it to my face, caressing the other side with his fingers. Again, I felt myself melting. I wanted to blame it on how vulnerable I am - that I was on the brink of life or death, and that's why I allowed this to happen. But the truth was that I longed for this...to find comfort in a place I could feel safe. After all this time surviving and fearing.

And as I opened my eyes and looked at Louis, I realized just how safe I was.

"Is she okay!? Clem, is he drowning you!? I can't see your face!"

A.J.'s frantic voice interrupts us both. I remove myself from him(being just as disappointed as he was) and started heading back. There was a blush on my face, and I didn't even turn back to Louis as I headed towards A.J. I could Loui following behind me as I offered a smile to my little boy. He breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed the sweat off of his forehead, going forwardly to desperately clutch my hand.

"I'm okay, goofball." I reached forward to ruffle his hair. "Don't worry."

"I made sure she didn't drown." Louis held a hand in the air. "I swear."

"I just wasn't sure...because she wasn't moving, you were above her, and it looked like you thought she was dead!"

"Hey, I'm alive. He did his job. I know how to float now."

"-But not swim?" A.J. asked uncertainly.

I looked back at Louis, who looked disappointed. I turned back to A.J. and rolled my eyes. I really did enjoy this, so throwing a hint out there wouldn't hurt. "-Well, we'll see. If Louis here wants to give me a few more lessons, maybe I'll learn how."

I turned around and looked into his eyes, tilting my head to the side and discreetly batting my eyelashes. I have never acted this way to anyone before - flattery was not something I ever, or planned to, use. But it won him over, judging by the smile and the hand he placed over his heart. In the same tone he used when I devised a plan to distract those walkers, he said:

"How can I say no to a face like that?"

#Long post #The Walking Dead Game #The walking dead game done running #louis #clementine #louistine #clouis #clementine x louis #fanfiction #fanfic #twdg #twd #AJ #ALvin Jr

[idreamofhazel]

Supernatural’s End: Embracing the Sadness and Its Impact

Sappy post ahead. Like wow. I didn’t know I had that in me. (1.6k words below the cut)

I know everyone has been saying their own words about Supernatural ending (honestly it’s hard to even type that. Still doesn’t seem real). I’m not usually one for jumping on the bandwagon and I don’t post a lot of “extra” here, but like, I’ve been really emotional. More emotional than I anticipated. I can blame it on my period and the intense amount of stress I’m feeling lately, or I can just admit that I’m a big sap and that this show actually, really means a lot to me. More than I thought it would. And I should stop making judgments about the way I feel and my need/want to write this post.

When I first started watching, I was finishing my first year of college. It was spring/summer of 2013. I had a friend who was obsessed with it, she had been watching since it first aired. I honestly don’t know what made me ask to borrow her dvd collection (she has them all), but I took the plunge.

Maybe it was because I had started watching Doctor Who, and I was finally getting over my aversion to being a “geek” and DW gave me a taste of what it was like to really love something like that as an adult. (Avid HP fan since the books first came out, here 👋🏻) But idk. I just remember thinking, “It looks good. Why not?”

Dean annoyed the heck out of me at first. I’m not going to lie. He smirked too much, he was arrogant, and always trying to hit on chicks? No thanks. (hey, just being honest here) Sam, however, was it for me. I remember exactly where I was when I first admitted that I was a Sam girl. I was in Wal-mart with my dvd friend and her sister, aka my best friend since childhood. We were grabbing snacks because I was staying over, I think, and they asked me who I liked best with that knowing grin. It was that classic Sam vs. Dean argument that has morphed into quite a lot of other things now--but that’s beside the point. The point is that I was hooked, and it was an avalanche from there on out. 

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I have come to like and appreciate Dean. He reminds me of myself as an oldest sibling who had too much responsibility placed on them, and he also frustrates me in many ways because he’s so damn charming and stubborn. But that’s a discussion for another day.

I stormed through the dvds, staying up late despite being spooked until the end-of-episode dvd music became as nostalgic as my favorite backstreet boys songs. There’s just something about staying up late on summer nights to watch your favorite movies or shows. Let me know if you find a word for that feeling. Soon, my brother started watching with me, I had to explain the initial plots to get him caught up because I was on a roll. I wasn’t back-tracking. I needed to get through all eight seasons before the season 9 premiere that fall. 

I almost made it. I think I only missed the first few episodes. But I remember that first season finale I watched, that first time I got to experience the edge-of-your-seat cliffhanger with the rest of supernatural family, and my friends, on live tv. Watching Dean open his eyes, only for them to be black, made my jaw drop. 

It was so fun to watch this show with other people. I think it was about season 11 when my dvd friend, my bff, and I began watching it regularly together. We’d go over to somebody’s apartment, have some snacks, and discuss the plot points and our predictions. A couple years later, I roped my other best friend, @queenmestyles, into watching it. I’ve got two of my brothers hooked, too. Well, one of them is a slacker on keeping up, but he’s busy🤷🏻‍♀️ The point is, Supernatural became this event, this regular time slot in my weekly life, save summers, in which I was able to socialize and bond over this tv show. I had a group where we were all crazy about this one thing and we actually talked about it. I’d never had that before. Not on this level. 

And then you add in everything that’s happened through the online community...

I started this blog back in like 2013, but it was a multi-fandom mess. Which is fine, if that’s your thing. But I tend be anal in spurts, so suddenly I had had enough and I had to organize my blog. By this point I was only posting Supernatural, so it only made sense to eventually purge all traces of any other fandom and bring some focus to my blog. Then 2016 came. 

That was a weird time for me. I was about to graduate college. I was busy as heck. And I honestly can’t tell you what compelled me write my first fic. I just know that it swelled up inside of me, and I couldn’t ignore it. Even if the quality was meh. 

It opened the flood-gates. And Idreamofhazel was born. Little did I know I would be needing this writing outlet a lot in the near future. See, I’m the kind of person who sets a goal, sets a path to the goal, and then suddenly has on blinders to where I can’t see anything other than the path I’ve set for myself. And if I veer off that path... well, I freak out. And that’s kind of what happened. I was supposed to go to grad school the fall after graduation. Like, I had to. At least that’s what I told myself. But it fell through due to money and some poor research on my part (I had no idea my local university had a master’s program). 

So here I was, doing nothing “but working” for a year, being hard on myself and continuing to freak out about my life, but I was also writing. I churned out a lot during that time. Like damn. I was writing like my life depended on it. And I guess, in a way, it did. See, I had written as a child (poems, HP fanfic, twilight fanfic), but I repressed that hobby like you do many childish things, and I hadn’t touched creative writing in like 10 years. But Supernatural. 

There was so much to write about, so many things in the show I could pull from to create stories. And so much to read. I read fanfic while cooking, while waiting in offices, while falling asleep. I wrote in the mornings, the afternoons, and late at night. I wrote on my phone even though it’s a pain. And when I got writer’s block, I kicked myself as I still do, but I kept going. And I discovered that this writing thing actually means a heck of a lot to me. Like enough that I want to write original fiction. 

I don’t know where that will take me, but wherever I end up with writing, I’ll have Supernatural to thank. 

I have Supernatural to thank for a lot of things, but mostly I think it gave me a chance to be myself while discovering part of who that really was. 

Supernatural is there when I’m sick, it’s there when I’m sad or lonely. It’s been there when a person I thought would always be in my life left me, and it’s been there with new friends. It brought me closer to a lot of people. It gave me relationships with people across the country and across the oceans. I know it’s just a tv show, and maybe we can say it isn’t, or maybe we can say it is, but even if it’s “just a show,” the people who love it, who make up the fandom, they aren’t “just” anything. They make this show something more.

Right now, the feeling about it ending is weird. Part of me can’t accept it. And then it hits me and I get all emotional, until my brain is like “Wait--no, it can’t be!” And then the cycle starts all over again. So for now, I’m just going to accept that I’m going to cry about this for awhile and realize that the shock and the pain and the very real feeling of loss is showing me how much this thing meant to me, and then I’m going to hold onto that feeling and use it as energy for never letting go of this thing I love, this thing that made me realize parts of myself I had forgotten, this thing that pushed me to create and showed me just how much I need to create. Even though anticipating the end makes me sad, I know the sadness will eventually turn into something positive, like fond memories and gratitude. But it won’t unless I face the sadness. 

So I guess that’s part of what I’m doing with this post. Facing my sadness. Using this post as a sort of therapeutic outlet. If you’ve made it to this point, thank you. I don’t know why you’ve chosen to read so much about me. Maybe you just really like me, or maybe you’re looking for that outlet, too. So I’ll just end the post with this: Embrace whatever you’re feeling. Identify it. Examine it. See what it’s trying to tell you about yourself. And do something with it. Maybe that’s writing your own post, maybe that’s creating something for the show, the cast, or the fandom. Maybe it’s just quietly accepting that the loss you feel is ok.

Whatever it is you’re feeling, and whatever it is you need to do, just know that you’re not alone. I, and the rest of the Supernatural family, are staying put, and we will ride the wave of changes to come, together.

#supernatural finale #text post #not mine

[recommendedlisten]

The extended play didn't come easy in 2019, and that's not at all surprising since the format has a way of giving us years where it seem to leave no shortage of noteworthy listens, where as others require listeners to dig a little deeper to find them. This year was of the latter, but with that comes opportunity for discovery and breakouts, which we found out heavily favored the continued impressiveness in excellent hardcore releases from the scene's DIY undergrounds on both sides of the coast. More established artists used the EP in 2019 as an extension of the work they created in the past year while others continued to evolve their sound in ways which can predict more intriguing ideas to come in the future. At the top of the list is arguably the year's only unanimous rap highlight, which is a strange realization considering it only clocks in around 15 minutes. That said, the 10 Best EPs of 2019 are worth every minute...

10. Bodega - Shiny New Model [What’s Your Rupture?]

Last year introduced us to the wry spun cynicism of Bodega, the Brooklyn post-punk band led one fashionably abrasive Ben Hozie. Their debut EP Endless Scroll saw them take on the spoils of modern consumption and many of the toxic architectures found within our society these days, and it made for a promising jumping off point for the quintet. A year has made for a bit of a shakeup both creatively and personnel-wise for the better with another short-form release in the full-fleshed Shiny New Model EP. Rethinking the wheel of rock and modern art in one collective body, the animated collective of Hozie, lead guitarist Madison Velding-Vandam, stand-up percussionist Tai Lee, bassist Heather Elle and the band’s art director/vocalist/sample master/hi hat quadruple threat Nikki Belfiglio zag away from the dance-worthy wire frame of Endless Scroll EP into terrain that’s more lush and pop-minded. Throughout it all, they remain fixated on the gritty NYC social and culture cues that make Hozie’s think bubbles burst out loud.

9. TØRSÖ - Build and Break [Revelation Records]

TØRSÖ are a band who lay a simple claim to a complicatedly-spelled name in dubbing themselves as “all ages hardcore.“ Their latest EP entitled Build and Break sees them recording the effort with Jack Shirley (Deafheaven, Joyce Manor) and thus, resulting in them kicking a lot of the mud out of their sound to make way for clear-as-cut-glass hardcore hyper-aggression. Much of the songs on this collection of quick-hitting gut checks pit self-doubts and despair against survivalistic instincts. At times, there is nothing but a bleak note left remaining even though there’s no surrender in the energy of TØRSÖ’s defense. The Cali DIY scene fav’s vocalist Mae screaming against a pile-on of guitar rash and d-beat adrenaline is confirmation f that. If anything, she and the band’s will to push-back against all odds will be what sees them claw their way toward the light at the end of the tunnel.

8. Anxious - Never Better [Triple B Records]

Anxious seems to have figured a new chemistry in melodic hardcore that homages the genre’s late ‘90s static as well as particles of punk-pop anthemry and early Aughts screamo. Now that the Boston-based hardcore label Triple B Records has recognized them as one of the warmest fires burning in the scene’s underground by signing them to their roster, it's time to experience their heatsaeeking spread in real time. With their debut EP Never Better, the Connecticut band stands a chance to one day have their name be heralded in the same sentence as Title Fight and Lifetime, as this collection of four songs doesn’t look bak in winding up melodic hardcore with abrasive edges and the occasional huge emo hook amid general mixed up emotions on everyday existence. Anxious seem more than ready to grate themselves against the odds, and Never Better is a promising first impression in that energy.

7. One Step Closer - From Me to You [Triple B Records]

Following their 2017 self-titled EP and a three-song promo last summer, rising Wilkes-Barre scene heroes One Step Closer are another 2019 success story off of the Triple B Records roster. The release of their latest EP From Me to You is a temultuous 17 minutes of six tracks that harkens back to the ‘90s Northeast youth crew scene bands like Have Heart and Verse pushed through the modern lens of boundary pushing in experimental wavering. The band’s collective energy switches between maximum and minimal flows, allowing self-torment and existentialism to consume the air as well as be the cause of One Step Closer’s cycling back into a nervous frenzy. Purists of raw hardcore energy will find satisfaction in the moments where they align themselves with more traditional outlines of the yesteryear as well. If One Step Closer can continue to mining all that they contemplate and feel while corroding the hardcore blueprint into something they can call their own, they're imprint will be permanent.

6. Portrayal of Guilt - Suffering Is a Gift [Closed Casket Activities]

One of the better expressions of pain in various forms as an artistic teaching tool to the listener was channeled through the charred screamo of Portrayal of Guilt on last year’s breakour Let Pain Be Your Guide. From the personal to the political and all facets in between, the Texan hardcore chameleons sense emotion in a way where it’s reflective off the surface of their sound. They are most certainly abrasive and crude to the touch, though even in just a few short moments, the shape of those shards can change from being something melodic to grinding to altogether undefinable in the ever-expanding heavy music universe. That brings us to this year’s Suffering Is a Gift EP. Thematically, the listen is a counterpart to Let Pain Be Your Guide’s lessons in embracing what awful realities life may deal you, and turning them toward your favor. Portrayal of Guilt are truly ascendent in their rallying against the odds, as they gnash metallic clusters between their teeth, and spit out the remnants into a dust cloud atop volcanic peaks. The more weight that bares down on them, it feels like their energy only intensifies.

5. Channel Tres - Black Moses [Godmode Music]

Channel Tres has had quite the year since his breakthrough eponymous EP landed him at the #1 spot of the year among extended listens. His cool-smooth energy that pulls in influences of house lights, R&B futurism and hip-hop bravado instantaneously gave him a recognizably singular sound that’s still going unrivaled a year later, and that the likes of sonic visionaries Vince Staples and Robyn dubbed him the honors of being their opening acts on their recent tours says a lot about where his lane is. With his Black Moses EP, Channel Tres glides into his fame and celebrity with cruise control, and that isn’t a bad thing. The beats here aren’t concerned with sizzling the floor with Tres’ charismatic fire, as this collection of five tracks is intended for when the lights go down and the temperatures drop. Even when Tres is driving in the slower lane, he’s still that stealth energy.

4. Charly Bliss - Supermoon [Barsuk Records]

For those looking to connect the dots between Charly Bliss’ adored debut Guppy and this year’s sophomore follow-up Young Enough, Supermoon offers closure on that while turning the page in the right direction at the same time. The first brick laid in that road was set down well before the latter’s official single “Capacity” arrived in February when the Brooklyn indie pop group dropped “Heaven” last year, a swirling, romantic ode in full-on euphoria that juxtaposed so many of the sour notes on romance heard on the band’s breakout debut Guppy. Subtract the static electricity from the equation, “Heaven” and the rest of these songs can be seen as the moment where vulnerability opened up pathways for the band to sparkle across waves of glittered keys and and choruses gliding around smooth corners. Unlike many post-album cycle EPs comprised of songs from its same sessions, Supermoon is beyond B-side quality with five tracks in A-side form that stand out as their own chapter in the band’s creative growth spurt.

3. Ava Luna - Pigments [Self-released]

Ava Luna eccentric layers play a huge part in the Brooklyn avant-pop group being able to create a remarkably singular sound moving its way in many colors and shapres through the universe. Few other acts showcase the ability to turn a chorus’ corner or find a groovy pocket in the discovered placs they do, and it’s that strive for new discovery within their collective energy’s that makes their music an allure. Not even a year removed from the space age smooth moves of their great third LP Moon 2, those eccentricities again resurface in perhaps the band’s most intentional offering yet in the short form format Pigments. The four-song EP reflects a change in the air through compositions of warm woven acoustic arpeggios, dub percussion in rippled water effects, and keys warped inside the solar system. Felicia Douglass and -- in what would be her final bow with the group -- Becca Kauffman are at their coolest wrapped within the ultraviolet beats, and the conversational guests stepping in and out of view only add more fascination to Ava Luna’s colorful cosmic scene.

2. Guerilla Toss - What Would the Odd Do? [NNA Tapes]

Undefinable and unpredictable are succinct descriptors of Guerilla Toss’ work, as the New York-by-way-of-Boston collective has grown a reputation organically in the underground the hard-earned way through by refining a singular sound with an intense, complimentary colorful live show that affirms why we stay alive. Through the obscurities of ther motions, Guerilla Toss has dealt with some shit too, just like any of us does in plain sight. With their What Would the Odd Do? EP, they don’t mask their personal demons in their music any longer. If anything, those demons give a different kind of life to their sound, bearing over it with existential-driven themes of isolation, dread, and joy in tandem, born out of frontperson Kassie Carlson’s own experience with overcoming addiction and health issues. She expels internal chaos through radiant disco-punk beams formed by the branches of drummer Peter Negroponte, guitarist Arian Shafiee, bassist Stephe Cooper and keyboardist Sam Lisabeth. Each and every sense spilling over the canvas, Guerilla Toss in their latest form are what true sanity sounds like.

1. Earl Sweatshirt - Feet of Clay [Tan Cressida / Warner Records]

In a year where hip-hop and rap either took the year off or mostly failed to deliver, it’s the game’s reluctant star and anti-hero Earl Sweatshirt who saves the the day in just about 15 minutes of gristled, Frankensteined sound collages and prose mosaics covered in his straight-to-the-bone flow a year after delivering a grief-stricken art-rap album for the ages with last year’s Some Rap Songs. Feet of Clay is also an effort primarily helmed by Thebe Kgositsile as well with occasional studio appearances by The Alchemist and ovrkast, giving the short run a harder-earned rawness to it than its predecessor, which found the space to experiment beyond the usual darker headspace in free jazz lumination and hypnotic interludes. Though the background noise is often grainy or downright inacessible, Sweatshirt’s words in rhyme rise above the ruins. Confusion could be what permeats these moth-pocked holes through the soundboard, with Sweatshirt still finding himself in a different phase of loss’ throes. There’s not so much any resolve to these quandries, and with that is Feet of Clay’s statement of intent: He’s given us a look inside his head. It’s no more brighter, yet we see the wreckage clearly.

#best of 2019 #bodega #torso #anxious #one step closer #portrayal of guilt #channel tres #charly bliss #ava luna #guerilla toss #earl sweatshirt

[thegraphitesword-blog]

Pride Prompt Month 16/30: Amusement Park

Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen

Relationship: Tree Bros

NOTES: NO BODY CAN TAKE THIS FROM ME, BUT I WAS READING DEH HEADCANONS AND I WAS THINKING ABOUT MY OWN SPEECH IMPEDIMENT AND I WAS LIKE “holy shit connor totally had a stutter when he was young and then he got help and it only comes out when he’s panicking and scared.” Soooooooooo, to go in the theme of the prompt, the tree bros are at an Amusement Park and angsty bab Connor finds out something strange about Evan and Evan finds out something cute about Connor.

More Notes: This takes place in an AU where Connor didn’t die, Evan didn’t break his arm (but still “fell from the tree see 14/30 for more info) and they only bonded over a misunderstanding. That misunderstanding was something Zoe said and Connor kinda just started to date Evan out of fucking spite and well, it kinda came true......”but not because we’re gay......no not because we’re gay”

TW: withdrawal symptoms, exposed scars and self inflicted burns, speech impediment

Prompt: Amusement Park

Connor’s Pov

Of all the fucking places, Evan wanted to go to for the summer, I couldn’t understand why, WHY a fucking amusement park. Seriously, with Evan’s track record with large crowds and loud environments, I swore he was plotting something. That would have been true for anyone, but him though; aside from being sarcastic and snide every so often, he was way to anxious to be mischievous.

I was shocked to find put that not only did he have fond memories of amusement parks with his family, but EVAN, his Evan Hansen, was a major fan of roller coasters. It came as a shock, when the first thing he wanted to do was get in line for this coaster, that had so many twists and corkscrews that it was famous for making people hurl.

“You can’t be serious. You, of all people, want to fucking ride THAT?”

Evan shrugged picking at the skin on his hands a habit he picked up a few months ago, they had gotten pretty scabbed and torn up after he started getting over his benzodiazepine addiction (another mystery I never believed).

“I like them. I don’t know why that’s hard to believe.”

“Because this is the same Hansen that caused himself to fucking hyperventilate almost religiously at school and is so high strung and worried your body literally just quits because of the tension.”

“It’s not that weird....”

I looked back at the people in front and behind us, we were stuck in the middle of a growing line and honestly, I didn’t want to waste the fact we had been standing here for 20 plus minutes,

“Whatever, Hansen.”

He smiled, obviously fighting the urge to hug me or some shit. The only thing I wasn’t really looking forward to....was the panic to set in. I’ve never liked roller coasters. It used to be because I didn’t like heights, but honestly it’s because of the over stimulation they cause. The noise of the people screaming, the rush of air and jolts of each turn, the weak feeling of being on a structure only held up by barely understood science. Yeah....I wasn’t a fan

I pulled out my phone and checked the weather and the few messages I had received. Zoe and Alana were somewhere in the park and I fought the urge to complain to Zo about having to ride this death trap. She just texted me about being “a little bitch” and I didn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer. The weather app said it was going to be close to 95 degrees, which spelled out trouble for me and my gray sweatshirt and black jeans. Protective layers, i almost never go anywhere without. Evan had tried to convince me to take the jacket off, but I couldn’t help but growl back that he did have shame littering his arms.

Evan looks crest fallen and panic and I realize I crossed the line, like every other day. He touches the back of his neck and retreats when he comes into contact with the scarred skin. It took him ages to tell me that quite a bit of his back was just as knotted with scar tissue, and even more time to tell me why. I rest my hand on his and he takes that as an attempt at an apology. With a bit more confidence. I unzipp the jacket and quickly pull out my arms, keeping them hugged to my side. Looking at them made me sick, it didn’t matter if they where thin and superficial or the thick raised line leading down the center of my left forearm, wrist to elbow.

I’m really not happy about the shit I did in high school or throughout most of y life, but then again who is?

I can feel myself shaking, feeling way to vulnerable for my liking, the delusions of the world staring at me and my fuck ups weighted down my thoughts, until Evan laced his fingers in mine.

“Thank you.”

“Sure, thing acorn.”

“please don’t call me that. It took me fucking ages to get Jared to stop calling me that.”

He shoved me, as I poorly contained my laughter. I loved it when Evan swore, it reminded me that everyone is human, especially him. We held hand waiting for the line to crawl forward, the closer we got the more I wished I had stayed in my room or smoked something before we left. In the future but not far enough, we were at the front and I started internally freaking. So many things were happening in my brain, so many possiblitites of things going wrong.

“Evan, EHT.”

To anyone else, but Zoe and him, I would be speaking gibberish, but they understood my little quirk, EHT being “emergency hair tie”. Evan always had one on his wrist, sometimes more, both for him to play with and for those moments when I needed to tie my hair back. He doesn’t ask why, but hands a baby blue hair tie and i quickly pull my shoulder length hair into a messy bun.

The next round of people are ushered to the train and I drew the line when Evan wanted to sit in the very back. We settled for the second section and were strapped, locked and educated on proper safety and bullshit. I didn’t even notice i was gripping the hand rail and Evan’s arm til we started making the ascension.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck. FUCKING HELL.”

Evan busts up laughing as I start cursing a God I don’t believe in. He says something, but it’s too late. The first cart goes over the edge and it’s all downhill from there.

I don’t think there is a proper way to describe the fear I had having my body get jostled around at high speeds, or how my stomach tumbled around with all the corkscrews. I couldn’t even register the screaming I was emitting or how Evan was shouting and laughing both out of  joy for the ride and at my over reacting behavior. The ride was over in a few minutes and I wasn’t the only on who hit the ground running. The second I could I got off, and ran to the exit, praying that my head would stop fucking reeling.

“s-sh-shit the fu-uck ha-a-a-ave I done.”

I pause for a quick moment, standing at attention. I was hoping that this wasn’t what I thought it was. I kept my mouth shut for the time being trying to hold in what I feared it was, but Evan catches up and well...things go to shit.

“God, Connor are you okay?”

“I-I-I.” I cover my mouth and turn flaming red, Evan just watches me unsure what is happening.

“Uh...Connor.”

“Sh-sh-shut the h-hel-l-l- up.”

He looks confused, “um....are you doing this on purpose? or is this anxiety related?”

“E-Ev-Evan-n. I am not ha-v-v-ving this conv-con-convers-sa-SHIT.”

“what is happening?”

I pull out my phone and point to it, and Evan pulls out his.

“Connor?”

C: don’t fucking say anything to what I am going to fucking tell you.

C: got it?

“Well yeah, but what is going on?”

C: it’s......shit. it’s my fucking speech impediment

“Wait....what?”

I roll my eyes and just start walking.

C: i had, have or whatever, a stutter. I’ve had it since I was like 8. we have to find Zoe

“oh...um, okay.”

I send Zo a barrage of messages telling her to find us and to call Evan.

Z: What the fuck do you want?

C: having problems.

C: need help

Z: just ask Evan asshole

C: I WOULD IF I FUCKING COULD BUT SORRY FOR YOU I CAN’T GET CONTROL OF MY FUCKING SPEECH RETARDATION 

Z: are you kidding me? its been like 10 years.

C: and i struggle to speak everyday

C: SO IF YOU DON’T FUCKING MIND GET OVER TO THE SPEEDSTER COASTER AND FUCKING HURRY.

Evan was on the phone with Alana, giving them instructions to find them and I find a bench to fall into, hoping that I would get struck with fucking lightning or something. Despite it being extremely hot and the sun glaring its radioactive rays at me, I stuff my arms back in to my jacket and zip it, no longer giving a shit, if I was lucky i’d die of heat stroke.,

“Um, Connor?”

I look up mortified, as Evan gives me a worried look. I wish I could have just said something, I mean I could but I would most likely give up trying to muddle through this absolute bullshit.

“is there anything I can do?”

“N-no-n-no-o-o”

He takes a seat next to me and pulls my arms from his chest trying to do help me look at him or trying to get me out of my head. We wait him humming a song that he wrote for me, until we hear Zoe yelling running towards us.

“We’re here. How bad is it?”

“Y-Y-You-You fucking t-t-tel-l-l m-m-me.”

She turns away trying to stop from laughing and I would have yelled something, if I knew that it would be completely lost to my speech impediment.

“So....how do we fix this?”

“Well, he’s had little spurts of this kinda stuff, but....” smirks choking on her laughter, “never this bad before.”

I type out a quick message and had it to her.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea.”

“Do I h-h-h-have have a f-fuc-c-cking choice?”

“But...would dad be okay with that?”

“I DO-O-ON’T FUCKING CA-A-R-RE. If If I-f-f he won’t th-then, I’m screwed.”

Evan holds my hand again trying to keep my temper at a acceptable level.

“What is going on?”

“He wants dad to set up an appointment with his old speech therapist. But, both our parents were complete assholes about his whole stutter. Connor, I know he won’t but I will, since I’m gonna be the one to take you.”

I know I am giving he a suspicious look, because she punches my shoulder, “You’re welcome asshole.”

“Whatever, Z-Zo-Zo-Z-Zoe.”

Alana taps her girlfriends shoulder, “Are we gonna stay or is this something that needs to be addressed right away.”

I grab my phone and type out, “Just go. I’ll continue wallowing in self pity and hatred..”

“Don’t let him do anything stupid, Evan.”

“See you guys.”

I watch the two of them walk off, Zoe squeezing Alana’s shoulder, and sigh exhausted about this whole ordeal. It just had to happen and be this cumbersome, of fucking course. I get up shaking my head and pulling out the hair tie. I hand it back to Evan, and walk off, hands in my pocket. His footsteps hurry to catch up to me, and he grabs my arm.

“Hey, if you wanna go home can. I feel bad I forced you to ride that roller coaster.”

I don’t say anything, just drag him along to a more secluded area of the park. We settle on a picnic table, under a tree.

“It’s fi-i-in-ne.”

He rests his head on my chest, hugging me. I didn’t care at this point the day was ruined and I just wanted to lock the stupid stutter back in it’s cage. 

“I don’t know if this will make a difference, but I think it’s kinda cute. The stutter I mean. Considering, i have had the same problems with stuttering, I understand. Notsayingthatit’scool no no no I just think it’s kinda cute. Sorry...”

I shrug, “It’s okay.I j-j-just just ha-hate it.”

“Yeah, I know. But, if you need anything just let me know.”

He leans up and kisses my lips, carefully, keeping his hand close to my chest. We didn’t really kiss or anything in public, but honestly I couldn’t care less. This day couldn’t be more embarrassing.

“We c-ca-can go g-go on more rides i-i-if you w-w-want t-t-to?”

“I rather just stay here, if you don’t mind.”

I nod and kiss his cheeks, making him blush and ironically stutter out of embarrassment. 

“Keep doi-i-ing that a-a-and you’ll-l-l-l sound lik-k-k-ke me.”

“Not nearly as cute.”

#dear evan hansen #speech impediment #tree bros #zolana #pride prompt month #i had a lot of fun with this

[recommendedlisten]

The first week of 2019 is here, but you’d really not know it if you were expecting to hear much new music just yet, as the industry appears to have still been mostly on holiday break. If it’s felt kind of odd to you, you’re not alone -- Past years during this time have surprised us with new albums from Beyoncé, D’Angelo, Pusha T and Jeff Rosenstock to give us plenty to talk about before the content machine fully revved up for the new year. Instead, singles from R&B futurist Noname, shape-shifting dance troupe House of Feelings, experimental harpist Mary Lattimore and hardcore hopes Never Ending Game held down the fort of freshness while Recommended Listen opted to catch up with some great listens the site missed on first passing from artists on the rise the Beths, Bodega, Candy, and Public Practice. 

Here’s the best of the rest from the week of December 30th, 2018…

D’Angelo - “Unshaken” [RCA Records]

It’s an eerie coincidence to mention D’Angelo twice in one sitting, because it’s an event that hardly even happens these days, and when it does. you show up for it. The R&B and soul visionary’s last album was his listmaker in 2014′s Black Messiah, which was his first new music in 14 years, and since then, he’s mostly gone back to creative reclusiveness. Who was the first to hear his latest sounds, though? Video game nerds as it turns out -- particularly those playing Rockstar Games latest addictive RPG Red Dead Redemption 2, which boasts a star-studded soundtrack featuring the likes of electronic futurist Arca, rap god Nas, Queens of the Stone Age’s Josh Home and country rebel legend Willie Nelson -- who were surprised to find a new single from D’Angelo during their western shoot-em-up or whatever it is that happens during the game. “Unshaken” provides a fitting backdrop for the virtual tall tale with its sunset sound of Spanish guitars slow-riding through ghost towns as D’Angelo’s baritone broods ominously. “May I stand unshaken / Amidst a crashing world.” It's a chilling scene, even if you don't have the video game magic in front of you.

John Davis & Matthew Caws - “We Are In the Wild and We Are Home” [Self-released]

Superdrag frontman John Davis and Nada Surf frontman Matthew Caws both made name for themselves back in the ‘90s as alternative buzz bands who would achieve “one hit wonder” status on mainstream radio and MTV rotation with their respective singles “Sucked Out” and “Popular”, but the years that have followed their post-commercial fame peaks since have been even better for them, as they’ve transitioned their work seamlessly into being a thing of longstanding indie rock cult status. Though the two have have known each other for years since touring during that golden age of alternative, “We Are In the Wild and We Are Home”, a new single Davis and Caws have recorded together with all proceeds from it aiding Americares, is their first work together, as Stereogum points out. Adorned with sitar guitars and their like-minded penchant for tightly knit, fuzzing momentum, the song sends positive energy out into a dark universe in hopes of expanding beyond their own space. “Negative vibrations come a-creepin' through the cracks / Lookin' out for somethin' better, walkin’ down the tracks / I'm gonna try to keep lovin’ on my mind,” the listen opens, and doesn’t take very long before it sweeps you into a brighter state of beng.

We Are In The Wild And We Are Home by John Davis And Matthew Caws

Mineral - “Your Body Is the World” [House Arrest]

Perhaps this holiday season you were gifted with One Day We Were Young, the photo and lyric book released by emo godfathers Mineral to commemorate their 25th anniversary as a band. Though they’d been mostly inactive for the better part of those years, their reunion in 2014 has seen them more consistently reminding us with their timeless presence, be it playing live shows, or in the case of this publication, bringing with it the first two new songs recorded by the Texan band in 20 years. Back in November, they previewed the release with the first half in the lengthy grandeur of “Aurora”, and now that the book has officially hit shelves, it’s counterpart listen “Your Is the World” is out in the wild. This one clocks in at half the time of its predecessor and condenses its sprawling melodic rock undercurrent into seismic shifts of post-hardcore rumbling. You’ll likely be able to hear Mineral’s newest formations at the end of the month and into the springtime, as they’re headed out on a 25th anniversary tour.

One Day When We Are Young: Mineral at 25 by Mineral

Strange Ranger - etc. EP [Self-released]

Your favorite DIY indie rock band’s favorite DIY indie rock band Strange Ranger released How It All Went By, an alt-rock static-driven EP in late 2018 that marked a polished yet immersive transitional phase for the Portland-based band’s sound, putting melody at the forefront without losing any of the finer details of steady-handed guitar work and atmospheric drifts in the mix. The band is gearing up to hit the road in 2019 as well as working on new music, and to help cover the costs of being a creative force, they’ve surprise-released a new 4-song EP entitled etc. This one finds Isaac Eiger, Fred Nixon and Nathan Tucker retreating back to the basement to soundscape a mostly acoustic-rustling, melancholy version of themselves than that which we last heard on How It All Went By. It breathes like a companion piece in which every reaction has an equal and opposite reaction, proving that Strange Ranger’s growth spurt is far from over yet.

etc. by Strange Ranger

#the best of the rest #D'Angelo #nada surf #superdrag #mineral #strange ranger #new music & videos