recoloured this old warmup to repost cause I had it on my mind.

If Clark is going to be in earth 19 (gotham by gaslight universe) (they're publishing more gbg and clark is going to be there), then listen to me listen to me, he needs to be a cowboy. Superman needs to be a cowboy in the big city. I am SOO serious about this. I am on my knees, DC, let me write for you, I would add so many themes about modern technology versus traditional knowledge and sprinkle in some anticolonialism PLEASE.

You could have a cute little Daily Planet that has to struggle against yellow journalism in a smoky little backroom & setting their own type, a la The Truth. You could have gentlemen's clubs. You could have a brutal war against unions in the streets and one lone titan of industry giving into their demands. You could have the exact same 3 batkids from the movie, there's literally nothing to improve on there. You could have Clark tear down a barbed wire fence with his bare hands, in a futile attempt to unravel colonialist ideas of private land ownership. Imagine the alien knows more about the earth, the real earth, than the knight in his city does. Imagine the American dream failing Clark, who has to go back east to the big city, failing Bruce, who lost his parents, failing everyone over and over until they decide to build something without it. In an era of rampant exploitation, what do real heroes look like?

Or you can make the justice league fight big steampunk robots ig I'm excited either way.

Layers Upon Layers

one: outside layer

[Name:] "Jak." [Hair Style & colour:] "Black and orange. I wear it pulled back and braided." [Eye Color:] "Gold and jade green." [Height:]  "Fuck if I know exactly. Under five fulms." (4'9") [Style:] "Depends on the day. Maybe the hour. Leather and mini-skirts are always a good bet, though. Sometimes a nice suit, sometimes my bike gear, sometimes a little something more form-fitting, elegant and gilded - 'desert chic', I suppose." [Best Physical Feature:] "Definitely my ass...though my legs cut it close, on that one. What do you think?"

two: inner layer

[Fears:] "You ask that and actually expect people to tell you?" (Small/enclosed spaces with no readily available exit, levin, Garleans, people getting too close to her/seeing who she really is) [Guilty Pleasure:] "People feel guilty for what they like? Who's going to judge me, the sheep who can't come up with a single original thought of their own, and feel guilty if they do?" [Biggest Pet Peeve:]  "Biggest...that's tough, actually. Probably blithe optimism, or naivete. People too ignorant, or unwilling to ask questions and look deeper - or those simply unwilling to face hard truths. There can never be any growth if you aren't honest with yourself, after all. Unmotivated slackers. If you have no goals, why are you wasting this star's air?" [Ambition for the Future:] "To be feared and respected in equal measure. I've been pushed around for a long time, and now it's my turn."

three: thoughts

[First Thought When Waking Up:] "Probably...my to-do list for the day? That or wondering what the weather is like, and whether or not I'll be going on my usual morning run or be stuck working out indoors. That or 'Huh, they haven't killed us all yet.'" [What You Think About the Most:] "What my next step is in life - how I want to pursue that power I'm after without compromising who I am...and how the fuck I ended up with someone who actually cares about me in my life while distinctly trying to avoid that type of thing...and why he stuck around. I wonder about the 'why' a lot." [What You Think About Before Bed:] "Depends on the day, and what's happened, and if I'm headed there alone. If I'm not alone, it's probably something to the effect of 'I still can't believe he wants to be here/wants me to be here'. And whether or not I'm alone...there's always the nagging, ugly reminder that Garlemald's towers sit hunched in the sky, ready to end everything for everyone - predator and prey alike. It could be the last night for any of us." [Your Best Quality Is:] "My ass. But other than that...well, I'm honest, and my loyalty can't be bought. I'm not a good person, but I have my own...'code', in a sense, I guess."

four: what’s better

[Single or Group Dates?] "Group dates sound like a punishment. I can barely stand the slack-jawed idiots around me as it is. Though undoubtedly the punishment would be upon the others, considering who my date would be, and the fact that we'd probably spend the time verbally destroying the other couple." [To be Loved or to be Respected?] "Respected. Love without respect is horrifying. I've been there, I've suffered it, and I'm still recovering. But I still...don't know that I believe in love. At least not how most people do, I guess. Love makes people do stupid shit when they believe in it. Respect doesn't. Respect can stand alone, without needing love. Respect has to be earned. There's no claims of 'respect at first sight.' But like I said...love without respect is...ugly. Scary, even." [Beauty or Brains?] "Both, or no deal. Brains are essential, but I can't have a walking pile of dogshit on my arm, now can I?" [Cats or Dogs?] "Neither, I don't do pets - animals are food. But...I suppose I'd say dogs, though you'd probably incorrectly assume cats, based on the fact that I resemble one. But...there's been more 'canines' in my life in the last year or two than I care to recall."

four: do you…

[Lie?] "No. Not unless the situation is dire - my morals don't matter if my life is on the line. Survival comes first always." [Believe in Yourself?] "Much more than I used to. I've accomplished, and survived, more than most could even begin to imagine." [Believe in Love?]  "Not...really? Maybe? Though I'll admit that for all my vehement denial in the past, someone has made me re-examine my emotions in the last half a year or so. I don't think I believe in the sort of 'love' that the general public believes in. I had someone force his fairy tale romance down my throat and do me a lot of harm both physical and mental with those ideals, as he forced me to be someone I wasn't. If adhering to what society expects of love is all that someone cares about - hitting the expected gestures as told in fairy tales? That's about as real as a fever dream. I don't like the word 'love'. Not what it's come to be associated with, and what's expected of you along with it." [Want Someone?] "For the first time in my life...yes. Not that I don't 'have' him as much as I can claim such, but when he's not around, I find that I want him to be. So...yes?"

six: have you ever…

[Been on Stage?] "No? I mean, my organization does run a jazz club, and it's been various theaters before that, and I've...sat on the stage, basked in the spotlight of an empty theater? I prefer to be...less in the actual spotlight, however." [Done Drugs?] "I've only been clean and sober for...maybe a year now? So yeah. I've...done a lot of drugs." [Changed Yourself to Fit In Somewhere?] "I've been a con-artist to put food on the table, but I don't believe in changing who you are to 'fit in.' If you don't fit in...you don't fit in. You are who you are. Being anything else is a lie, and does you a disservice. It's also a pathetic cry for attention - for the other bleating sheep to accept you into their herd. I won't debase myself to 'fit in' with my lessers."

seven: favorite

[Favorite Color:] "Black, white, gold, and red. I don't have just one." [Favorite Food:] "Once more, I don't have just one. I like red meat, I like seafood, and I enjoy rolanberries quite a bit. Of late, I think my current favorite snack is takoyaki though - this fried dough ball with octopus inside...just thinking about it makes my mouth water." [Favorite Game:] "Breaking and entering."

eight: age

[When Your Next Birthday Will Be:] "No idea." [How Old Will You Be?] "No clue. I'm...twenty and four summers, roughly...give or take a couple." [Age You Lost Your Virginity:] "Care to lose yours to one of my knives, here?" [Does Age Matter?]  "Should it? I suppose I'd be a bit baffled to see an old geezer with a hot young thing, but even so...who cares? I haven't exactly had a lot of lovers, but I don't think I ever asked any of them their age. So long as people stay the fuck away from kids, it's a non-issue in my opinion."

nine: in a partner

[Best Personality:] "An unflinching realist who not only faces the truth, but deals it out themselves. Ambition, and the ability to be honest with themselves about who they are." [Best Eye Colour:]  "Who gives a shit? If I find them worthwhile, I'll like their eyes, I assure you." [Best Hair Colour:] "Who's out here checking people off a list because their hair is the wrong color? I mean, after some shit I went through, I might not want to ever see another red-head again, but realistically...who gives a single fuck? I think you're asking the wrong questions here. People often do - too busy dwelling on lust at first sight." [Best Thing to do With a Partner:] "Murder? Crime in general? ...Or a hot bath."

ten: finish the sentence

[I Love…] ...I just told you I don't do love. But...I do love the sun." [I Feel…] everything at once, or nothing at all, it seems." [I Hide…] who I am." [I Miss…] my family." [I Wish…] ...wishes are for simpletons. Actions achieve what you want." Thanks for the tag: @eligos-venator @placesyoucallhome @bek-sc @sundered-souls (I think I found you all who tagged me!)

I am late to this party! Tag yourselves if you want to do it, so I can read your stuff! I feel like most folks have done it, and I'm too brain-dead atm to root around in the bowels of Tumblr to see who hasn't, since I'm many days late! XD

Stray Kids 8 Part Series ~ (1) Bang Chan: Perfection

Group: Stray Kids

Member: Bang Chan

Genre: Light angst + hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,300+

Summary: Bang Chan can’t afford to take breaks in this industry. 

Stray Kids 8 Part Series MASTERLIST

A/n: This is the beginning of an 8 part Stray Kids hurt/comfort series!! I hope that you will all enjoy this a lot :) also writing this sort of theme about Chan absolutely killed me because this man deserves the entire world ;-;

TW: This story contains a descriptive anxiety attack.

Through the blurry, sleepy view his eyes gave him, Bang Chan could barely make out the small, digital clock on his desk that read 3:14. He groaned softly as he resumed his work on what was soon to be Stray Kids’ next title track. 

Normally, Chan considers himself a person who is able to work fast and diligently at the same time, which often comes in handy in an industry that demands perfection. Yet, as he sat slouched in his desk chair, fiddling with his laptop to try and create a proper bass line, he began to feel pressured. 

For a producing idol, having writer’s block was a death sentence. Nothing had the power to overwhelm Chan with the heavy feeling of anxiety like a deadline for a demo due at the end of the week which has barely been started.

It’s not that the song hasn’t been started, it’s that it has been started and restarted too many times to count after Chan deemed the previous draft unacceptable. Chan’s standards for himself might seem overkill to some people, but Chan calls it being a perfectionist. 

Everyone, including Bang Chan knows that real perfection was not possible for a man to achieve, however that didn’t stop Chan from striving for it. In a way, it was a blessing and a curse. Being a perfectionist meant that Chan was never finished with anything until he was one hundred percent proud of it. This demo was not an exception. 

As Chan listened to the basic beats he had recorded already, he began to drift out of consciousness. 

He had to finish the track. He was so tired. Maybe if he took a twenty minute nap he would feel better. No, he would just end up sleeping all night. Wake up. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.

He was yanked out of his dreamy state by the harsh sound of his phone vibrating on his desk. He took a second to gather his surroundings before checking the text message sent to him. 

Changbinnie: Where are you?

Chan groaned. Changbin has been on his ass all week about taking care of himself as if he was made of glass. Changbin should know that this was how Chan worked. He always pushes himself to his breaking point and faces the brink of exhaustion in order to create the best music he could. There was no other way for him to make music. 

Channie: Studio

Chan cracked his back against his chair before getting back to work. It was only three in the morning, which was hardly late enough for Chan to admit defeat and give into his drooping eyelids. 

He didn’t get it. Music always came so easily to him. All of the lyrics he tried to write sounded too awkward for his liking. All of the beats were too overdone and basic. He was frustrated and tired, and far too busy to deal with Changbin’s nagging. 

Sure, Chan hasn’t been around for many meals during the past few days. Lord knows he hasn’t seen the inside of the dorm in three days straight unless it was to shower and change. Chan scoffed thinking of how he would react if it was one of the other members working to this extent. He would physically restrain them to their beds if that was necessary. He was different, though. He was the leader and the eldest. He didn’t have the time to worry about himself. He was responsible for all of their careers. He could handle a little bit of extra work. 

His hands were shaking slightly as he recorded another chord progression for the pre-chorus. At this point, Chan didn’t even know if they were shaking from exhaustion or from the sheer amount of caffeine he had coursing through his system. 

Chan let out another exasperated noise of defeat as he listened to the choppy way the verse led into the pre-chorus. He felt the frustration take right to his heart. His head was pounding, and he gripped the strands of his hair to ground himself. 

He was okay. He had pulled songs out of his ass before, he could do it now. It was going to be fine. Maybe if he added a lead-up sound into the pre-chorus, things would flow nicer. 

Why did he feel his eyes filling up with tears? He had no time to feel sorry for himself. Nothing was working out, and crying about it wouldn’t change the fact that his head was completely empty of original song ideas. 

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands before focusing again on the track in front of him. 

He hadn’t even started on the lyrics. 

The sense of panic was far too strong, and his mind was screaming for him to buck up, focus harder, create something that was acceptable. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts again by the sound of his studio door opening. 

“You’re going to kill yourself, I hope you know,” Changbin said quietly as he made his way over to his usual chair beside Chan. 

Chan tried to give a somewhat interested look to the younger rapper, but all he could manage was a slight head nod. He was still focused on the colourful lines of beats and chords on his laptop. He refrained from looking directly at the younger boy, not wanting to show any signs of the intense feelings that crushed his chest. 

“Jesus christ, you actually look like shit,” Changbin grabbed Chan’s chin gently and brought his gaze towards away from the track which was causing so much grief, “why are you doing this?” Chan’s gaze remained unfocused, looking at nothing in particular.

Chan took a second to process what he was saying. Why was he doing this? Because it was his job. Because the company, the members and the fans were all waiting for him to do his job properly. 

He wanted to say all of that, but what came out from his lips was “I have to”.

“That’s bullshit,” Changbin said, “I’ve been warning you about taking care of yourself-- Chan you’re shaking”. He moved to grab a hold of Chan’s trembling fingers. “You haven’t been eating, you haven’t been sleeping, you are a shell of yourself, and for what?” 

“For our jobs, Binnie” Chan pulled his hands away from the other boy, turning himself back towards the screen. He didn’t want the younger to see the fresh pool of salty tears threatening to fall down his cheeks without consent. 

Changbin sighed. “You’re more important than a deadline. You know that, right?” 

“What do you want me to do?” Chan asked, “I'm okay”. His voice was reduced to nothing more than a whisper. 

Chan didn’t need to look over to know that Changbin was thoroughly upset. Whether it was with him or the company, Chan didn’t know. All he knew was that when something upset Changbin, the aura of the room shifted. The air felt heavy and thick. 

“I’m worried about you,” Changbin said, placing his hand on Chan’s shoulder. The older boy involuntarily flinched at the unexpected contact. “I woke up in the middle of the night to see that you aren’t in your bed again, and I just don’t know what to do anymore,”

“Don’t”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be worried about me,” Chan swiveled in his chair to finally meet Changbin’s gaze for the first time that night, “it’s not your issue,” He was expecting frustration, anger or fury, but he was startled when all he could read in his brother’s eyes was shock and sadness.

“You don’t...” he trailed off, “you don’t sound like yourself...” Changbin slowly raised himself out of his chair. He was avoiding Chan’s eyes. 

“All you’re doing is distracting me,” Chan accused, “I can handle myself, I don’t need you worrying about me like my mother,” 

Changbin’s entire body was stiff. He looked uncomfortable, like he was trying to figure out what to say, but couldn’t. 

Why couldn’t he see that this was what Chan needed? Why couldn’t he see that this was best? Why did he have to stick his nose in everybody’s business like he has any say in their activities? 

“You should leave now,” Chan said coldly, “I have to get back to work,” 

Changbin hesitated for a moment, seemingly mulling over what his next words should be. 

“You’re upset that you are having trouble with a song... Big deal,” Changbin said, still quietly, but with so much more bite to his tone, which shocked Chan. “We have an entire group of kids at home who need their leader. You think that they don’t feel anxious these days? We all feel stressed, Chan” 

“Bin-” 

“These children look up to you because you’re a damn good leader,” Changbin began moving anxiously around the room, “they see their... role model throwing his health away for a song, and they think that should be the standard. It is sick, and it shouldn’t have to go that far,” 

Chan felt the pressure in his head return at the words Changbin was saying. “You don’t have any right to bring them into this--”

“You know I found out Jeongin’s been skipping meals?” Changbin’s voice was steadily rising. His face was darkening with frustration that was hidden earlier.

Chan sat in stunned silence. Jeongin has been skipping meals? For how long? Why didn’t Chan realize this before? Was he sick? Did he need a councelor? Was he self conscious? 

Before Chan got a chance to ask any of these questions, Changbin continued on his rant. 

“All of the kids are stressed because that’s what happens before a comeback! I don’t give a damn if you want to ruin yourself for your music, because I get it. I do too. But I am not going to let you create a bad example for the kids. I can’t and I won’t,” 

Chan finally found the strength in his legs to stand up and look at Changbin face to face. He could see that Changbin was furious by the fire in his eyes and the red colour that was taking over his skin. 

“You have no right how to tell me to live, you don’t know what being the leader is like!” Chan snapped, shoving his finger into Changbin’s rapidly rising and falling chest, “I am doing this for the kids, okay?” 

“If you honestly cared about them,” Changbin shoved Chan back away from him, causing the leader to stumble before gaining his balance on his desk chair, “you would make sure that they knew their health always comes first. This is a dangerous game, Chan! And sooner or later you are going to lose,”

“I think you should leave,” Chan said for the second time that night. He had enough. This was all so that Stray Kids could be the best group they can be, yet Changbin is acting like Chan is a maniac for being a perfectionist. 

Changbin was stunned. “Be that way.” he mumbled before ultimately leaving the studio. Before ultimately leaving Chan alone. 

The moment the door clicked shut behind the younger boy, Chan muffled his screams of frustration with his hands. The tears that have been on edge for a while now began streaming down his face, making tracks that felt like they burned the soft skin. 

He was mad. No, mad was an understatement. He was upset. Furious. Angry. Pissed off. Hysterical. Any of those synonyms could describe the feelings that Chan felt. His head was pounding, and the pressure was back worse than ever. 

He felt guilty because Changbin was right. He didn’t even notice that Jeongin wasn’t eating. He didn’t deserve to be a leader. He should quit. He should go to the company and tell them he failed. 

Chan began pacing around the room, suddenly feeling like the walls were too small. 

His gaze fell on the small, white laptop that was causing his pain, and he felt white hot anger and frustration. With a cry of anguish, he slammed the screen shut. 

He pulled at his hair so forcefully he wouldn’t be surprised if it ripped from his scalp. His chest felt so tight. 

The laptop. He shut it so hard... What if he shattered the screen? With a whimper, he raised the screen up to see that it was still in good condition. The contents of the screen however, were not. 

Chan felt the air leave his lungs when he saw he got bounced out of the software. He felt like his world was crashing down around him. 

With shaky hands, he moved the mouse to open the software again. Chan prayed to whatever deity there was up there that he didn’t just lose all of the progress that he most definitely didn’t press save for. 

The one attempt of a song that Chan didn’t hate ended up deleting from his laptop, never to fully develop into a proper song. 

That was the final straw for Chan. 

All at once, it seemed like the Earth’s supply of oxygen vanished. His hands flew desperately to his hair in an attempt to pull himself out of the spiral he was in. 

He was full on sobbing, clutching his knees to his chest once his legs gave out from under him. He struggled for breath on his studio floor. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep so bad. 

It felt like his body was being compressed, and he didn’t know how to save himself. He felt hopeless and weak, crying over some stupid lost progress. His world was shattering. 

Your work is gone.

Changbin hates you.

Jeongin isn’t eating because of you.

The members don’t want you as their leader.

The fans know you’re a fraud.

You’re a horrible idol.

You don’t deserve to be here.

These thoughts were ringing in Chan’s ears, bouncing around his skull. Chan cried out again, burying his face into the carpet, trying to breathe. 

He needs help, but he doesn’t deserve it. He brought this on himself, and now he’s actually compelled to inconvenience another person with this. The track was gone, his members hated him, and he was broken. 

Chan’s entire forehead was slick with sweat, and he felt his body tremble. He was a weak, worthless fool. He was clawing at any part of him that he could. He felt so weak and alone, sobbing his heart out on the floor. 

He didn’t know exactly how long he spent curled up in a ball beside his desk before he was able to calm his heart rate down enough to process thoughts. He needed someone. He needed someone badly, but the weight of shame kept him seated against the wall. 

He wanted to call Changbin and apologize so badly, but with how immature and selfish he had been acting, Chan didn’t deserve the kindness and support the younger boy would inevitably give him. The guilt of how he treated the other boy began to eat away at the shame. 

With a spinning head, Chan hoisted himself upwards enough to grab his phone from the top of his desk. The time on the screen read 4:53, and Chan desperately hoped that Changbin was still awake. 

Without hesitating enough to psyche himself out, Chan pressed the “call” icon, and waited. He tried to slow down his breathing enough so that Changbin wouldn’t know he was crying. 

“What do you want?”

Chan was startled at Changbin’s greeting, almost stuttering his response. “I... I’m sorry,” was all that Chan could manage to say. 

“You should be,” 

Chan cringed at the bitterness in the other’s voice, but remained calm. “Can you come?” Chan’s voice was shaking slightly, and there was a beat of silence from the other end of the line. 

“Are you crying?” 

“No,” Chan denied, biting down on his closed fist in a sad attempt to stifle the sounds that were threatening to escape from his throat.

“Are you okay? Fuck I was almost home, but I’m coming back, okay? Just wait for me,” 

Chan felt another set of hot tears trail down his cheeks, which sucked because he thought he didn’t have any more tears left in him. He wanted Changbin to come back to him, but not because he was afraid that Chan couldn’t handle simple emotions. “Okay,” he answered, and as soon as he felt the tightness in his throat, he hung up the call. Changbin didn’t need to hear him sob. 

Chan felt himself start to slip into his spiral again, and slapped himself in the cheeks. He needed it to ground himself. 

Just breathe. 

Chan counted all of the breaths that he took until Changbin came. He tensed up once he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and a face next to his. He was expecting Changbin to be mad, however the boy keeps surprising him. 

There were faint wrinkles of worry on Changbin’s forehead as he held a serious gaze with the blubbering boy in front of him. His touch was irritating to Chan, who shrugged the hand off his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry,” Changbin whispered, trying to meet Chan’s eyes. 

Chan raised his eyes. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, sniffling and rubbing the tears away from his abused and stinging eyes. Changbin didn’t have anything to apologize for; it was Chan who was stupidly self-destructive. 

Changbin moved so that he was sitting beside Chan, his back against the studio wall. “I was too harsh. I should have been more patient, I know you’re stressed,” he sighed. Of course Changbin had to be an angel. 

“You... you were right,” Chan admitted. 

“Bang Chan? Admitting I’m right?” Changbin teased, “that’s a first,”

Chan playfully shoved Changbin, and then moved to rest his head on the younger’s shoulder. The atmosphere was lighter now that Changbin was there to relieve the pain. 

“I should have been a better leader,” Chan whispered, “I’m sorry,” 

Changbin surely didn’t miss the way his voice faltered at the end of his statement. Chan felt his eyes get heavier, the post-panic attack fatigue getting to him. 

“You’re a fucking amazing leader,” Changbin replied, “I’m sorry for being harsh. Although I am not sorry about telling you off for setting a bad example because I know that you can do better,”

“’S fair,” Chan slurred. 

“Look at me,” Chan gave a half-hearted, half-interested moan, “Christopher, I said look at me,” Changbin commanded, grabbing Chan’s chin and bringing it to his face, “You are perfect.” 

Chan searched Changbin’s eyes for lies, but was met with nothing but the sincerity of a best friend. 

“You are perfection. And I know that whatever you end up doing is going to be perfect,” 

Chan smiled at his friend. Even though he could be annoying and naggy, Changbin was always there to pick him up. He was always able to wipe the dirt off of your face when you fell from the high. He didn’t pass judgments. 

Chan was stuck in his thoughts until the realization of his reality hit him like a freight train. “Fuck,” he said as he pulled his face away. 

“What?”

“The song...” he said, grasping at his desk until he was in a standing position and opening his laptop again. 

Changbin stood up too and sighed. “I thought you were going to take it easier from now on,” he whined.

“Fuck no, Changbin,” he said, tiredness still evident in his tone, “it’s gone,”

“It’s gone?” Changbin pulled his seat beside Chan, focusing on the newly opened blank track Chan started. 

Chan just nodded as he tried to remember how the song goes. Okay, it was 120bpm tempo... What were the chords that made up the verse? What was the instrument? How did the beat go? 

Chan groaned in frustration as he racked his brain. 

“We’ve done this before,” Changbin shoved Chan so that he could get a better view of the laptop. 

“Huh?” 

“You, me and Jisung,” Changbin looked concentrated, “we’ve produced songs in hours. I’m sure we could get something done if we worked together,”

Chan smiled, probably for the first time in days. “I would like that a lot,” he said gratefully. 

It was then that Chan realized that maybe some some people could be perfect after all. 

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9 Things That Need to Happen in Breath of the Wild’s Sequel

Just as I was getting over my intense love for Breath of the Wild, Nintendo go and drop that trailer on us at E3 and stop my whole ass heart. Hi, I’m two months late to the party on this one, but I’ve had a lot of time to think over what this sequel can learn from its predecessor and the rest of the series, as well as what brand new stuff can be brought to the table to make this sequel as spectacular as the first. Without further ado, here’s my list of 9 things Nintendo should do to make this amazing, as well as my own personal theories on what they could do to make it happen. Enjoy!

Spoilers for Breath of the Wild ahead!

1. Ditch the shrines

Don’t get me wrong, I loved the shrines in Breath of the Wild, I loved how difficult some of them were to find, how they brilliantly utilised each and every mechanic in the game and testing you on everything you’ve learned. These shrines were the ultimate compliment to a game that really wasn’t about holding your hand. But I think they’ve had their time, and it might be a nice idea to go back to some of the larger, more traditional dungeons of Zelda past. I’m not saying to go back to the old way of ‘you get given an item, it’s useful for one dungeon and that’s all’, I’m saying they need to definitely keep the massive variety of ways you can approach dungeons to keep that sense of freedom intact, but at the same time give us whole new types of dungeon with more visual variety. Abandoned forts, weird Lorule-esque dark versions of dungeons, towers, there’s really any kind of location they could explore when designing a new set of dungeons. Oh, and I adored the divine beasts, but I’m hoping for something completely different and surprising when it comes to main story dungeons this time around.

2. A whole new world map

If there’s one thing I think basically everyone agrees on, it’s that Breath of the Wild absolutely nailed its world. A huge, sprawling map with a variety of locales to explore and all of it packed to the brim with extra content and adventure-y fun. But we all know this world inside out, and even if they strip it bare and fill it with brand new secrets, it’ll still feel too much like something we’ve seen before. So from what we know from the trailer, it seems like Link and Zelda will be delving into the underground in this latest installment, so a fairly safe theory would be that they’ll uncover a whole new world down there, perhaps a forgotten and buried civilisation from thousands of years ago, now overgrown with Ganon’s influence and bizarre plants and animals that don’t exist on the surface. If they’re going full Majora’s Mask on this one, I think Nintendo’s best bet is to fully embrace this new darker tone they’ve shown to us and give us a world that is as twisted as that trailer.

3. Keep Zelda’s importance to the plot

I could honestly make a whole separate blog post about the evolution of Zelda as a character throughout the series, from her literally being asleep the whole time in Zelda II, to her role as more of a quest-giver in Ocarina and more recent games like Twilight Princess and Skyward Sword where she plays a much more active role in the plot. In Breath of the Wild however, they did something completely different that I adored; they made her into her own person. I mean sure, she was never completely devoid of character, but between the games where she wasn’t really there and the games where she’s outshone by every other character, Breath of the Wild really felt like her time to be properly fleshed out and have enough depth to be remembered. Sure, Zelda doesn’t turn up in the flesh until the end, but you spend the whole game with her voice guiding you, with you finding memories of your past with Zelda; how she seemed to have only contempt for you at the beginning because of Link’s fulfilled destiny compared to hers. You form your own opinion of her through her actions and how the champions perceive her (Urbosa as her sort of mother figure, Revali sees her as ever so slightly inferior for not being able to access her power and the mutual respect between Mipha and Zelda). Then you watch their relationship grow and change into something neither of them can really understand, but they become so close and so integral to each other that Zelda is the one to finally make him open up about himself. And that makes it all the more heartbreaking that Link has had all these memories snatched away from him and, of course, all the more gratifying when he finally gets them back so him and you, the player, both understand that you’re not just fighting for the safety of a realm you’ve been shoved into with no recollection of what’s happening, you’re fighting to be reunited with Link’s closest friend. Very probably more than friend, considering that final memory in Korok Forest. Nintendo did a brilliant job of laying the groundwork for Zelda not as a plot device or a damsel in distress, but a real, complex human being who enriches the story and makes the world you’re living in and what you’re fighting for feel more alive. So build on top of this! Keep developing Zelda, ask those questions of how Zelda feels now she’s free of Ganon and her constant fear of her power failing, how 100 years alone facing a demon has affected her mental health and, most of all, how everything that happened in Breath of the Wild changed their relationship. Are they together now? Do they have any idea what they are really? Do they just pick up where they left off or do they have to make an active effort to regain that close relationship they had before? I don’t know, but I’m really hoping we find out.

4. Ditch the sheikah slate

Get rid of it. Do it, cowards. Make Link drop it over a ledge in the first 10 minutes or something. Much like the shrines, the sheikah slate was such a fantastic idea and gave you 4 brand new powers to play around with in the massive sandbox world full of puzzles and it was great fun! But again, we know those powers too well now; we know how they work and how they can be exploited when you think outside of the box. What I want is for Nintendo to keep that brilliant creativity when it comes to gameplay mechanics, don’t just give us bombs and an ocarina again, give us something unique to this experience! I mean yeah, they could just give us an updated sheikah slate; a different model perhaps that dates back even further than the original one that has some weird abilities (maybe even a slate that’s somehow been infected with Ganon’s influence, that’d be funky), but my hopes are riding on Nintendo pulling something completely different out of the bag for this one. Making Link lose everything and only be able to use whatever he can salvage in this ancient, evil place is surely going to have a whole host of ideas behind it so I’m curious to see what they can come up with.

5. Embrace the darker tone

This sort of goes without seeing considering what we’ve seen so far, but I really want them to go full in with this darker atmosphere they’ve shown us. I mean, Breath of the Wild was never a ‘light’ game so to speak, but most of the games darker elements were masked by its beautiful landscapes and huge array of colourful characters that made Hyrule feel alive. There hints here and there of a much more macabre side to the realm; destroyed battlefield littered with rusty weapons, old structures covered in Ganon’s malice and the general feeling that Ganon was always watching you from the castle that you can see basically anywhere on the map. I want them to take that mild dread they instilled and turn it up to eleven. And one way that can be accentuated is through the plot. For example, we know a fair amount about the Sheikah tribe at this point, but what if there’s a side that was never explored? What if there’s a much more sinister reason why the Sheikah tribe were suddenly shunned by the royal family all those years ago? Or maybe the Sheikah found something under the castle as well as the divine beasts that they left buried down there and hoped no one would ever find it. Oh, and I’ve heard a theory that Calamity Ganon was just a puppet of the real Ganondorf, who was hiding underneath the castle all this time, which is absolutely terrifying if you consider what the puppet managed to achieve on its own. Not just plot stuff like this, but the music (keep that ambient style they went for before that knows when to amp it up and make it epic, but with a creepier vibe to match the tone of the world), the visuals, the sounds you hear while exploring. Nintendo need to make it clear that we aren’t in Kansas anymore; no more soft piano melodies while riding through beautiful valleys on my horse, make it spooky!! Unsettling, distorted notes playing through dark, twisted woods with trees gnarling into each other and shiny eyes peeking out at you from the canopy. Or something. Who knows, I just wanna be spooked.

6. A much fuller story

One of the main criticisms I always hear for this game is its lack of story content, which I suppose is true to an extent. But I don’t think this let the game down at all really. The game was far less linear than previous titles, so it makes sense that the story they were telling was much more general, but I don’t think this kind of approach would fit as well in its sequel. Nintendo told us just enough in Breath of the Wild to keep us guessing; we were introduced to this particular version of Hyrule, its inhabitants and what Ganon’s up to etc. But they’ve deliberately been extremely vague on what could possibly be explored in a sequel, as well as where/if these two games even fit into the overall Zelda timeline. They deliberately lifted focus off the narrative to make the world and how you traverse it the central point of your adventure. But now that they seem to be plunging us into a much darker world and have given us so many unanswered questions, I reckon its time to dial the narrative back up and give us a bit more of a beefy story to go with our hell exploring.

7. Change in characters

Slightly vague subtitle, but here’s what I mean. As I mentioned beforehand, Breath of the Wild is full of colourful characters that populate the towns as well as the general landscapes, from merchants to adventurers and shield-surfers to Beedle (I love Beedle). And for the most part, these characters all want to help you along on your journey by giving you helpful advice or sending you off on quests to find more shrines. And while I’m not saying this sequel should do away with all helpful NPCs, I do think there should be fewer of them. When designing new towns and settlements, they could give us the odd helpful citizen here and there, but for the most part, how would the inhabitants of this forgotten underground place treat Link? I think it would add to the atmosphere really well by having some of the characters that populate the world deliberately unnerve Link when giving him advice or telling him something helpful and then mocking him at how ineffectual he is at completing his quest. Or if they really want to go a bit overboard, they could even have occasional encounters where talking to the wrong NPCs can end in a random fight, in the same vein as the disguised Yiga in Breath of the Wild. But of course, you don’t want to only populate a world with characters that hate you (that’s what MediEvil is for), so some form of guide would maybe be a welcome addition. If not Zelda (I would definitely welcome the idea of her being along for the ride, though I fear it would take away some of the nerves if you have Zelda as an anchor of familiarity), then perhaps the ghost of a Sheikah from thousands of years past that never agreed with what his tribe were doing or was responsible for something in his life that he now deeply regrets and he can’t pass on until Link helps to finally defeat the real Ganon. Who knows what they’ll do with the characters, but as long as they leave Navi and Tatl back on the N64, pretty much anything will do me.

8. Keep the stamina wheel

As much as I’ve bleated on about everything I want them to change or add in, this is something I most definitely want them to keep. The core gameplay, while I can’t imagine them really changing it, is integral to the sandbox world they created. Having Link be able to sprint, jump, climb up literally anything is what gave players such a sense of freedom; being given this whole massive world to explore and being able to access absolutely all of it. And while I’ve talked a lot about how much I’d like this sequel’s tone and approach to narrative and a bunch of other things to change, this game absolutely needs to keep the same sense of unabashed freedom we had in the first game. And the most integral part of that freedom was the stamina wheel. Short segment I know, but that’s all I really had to say on that one. Let me climb things, Nintendo.

9. Switch up the monsters

In Breath of the Wild, there was an excellent balance of amazing new designs for old favourite monsters, as well as a whole host of new ones (the guardians and the moldugas getting a special mention here). But I reckon what this sequel needs is some brand new monsters to add to the pile; a larger variety of monsters to encounter out in the wilderness would enrich this new darker world we could be exploring to no end. Also, while I really loved all the main story bosses in BotW, I feel as if a larger design variety of story bosses would benefit this sequel. Imagine the potential for whatever ancient monsters are down under the castle to give Link a hard time and what kind of an epic fight is Ganondorf going to put up when we finally get there?? Just as a little idea to throw out there, maybe undead Sheikah will make an appearance as an enemy, woken from the dead and forced into Ganon’s service after being infected by malice. And hey, the Yiga Clan never really got full closure! Yeah Link gets rid of their leader, but the Clan is very much still alive and kicking by the time of Calamity Ganon’s death, so perhaps they’ll play a central role once again now that Ganondorf seems to have come back into the picture. What would make the Yiga even more menacing is if this were their plan all along; knowing that Link very well could defeat Calamity Ganon and then, after retaking the castle, be drawn underground to free the real culprit. Nobody knows what direction Nintendo are going to take with any of this, other than ‘it’ll probably be kinda spooky’, but I am way too excited to find out.

Got any cool ideas or theories of your own? Anything you want them to add or take away in this sequel? Drop it down below in the comments! I’d be v interested to hear if you have anything to add. Thanks for reading and let’s hope the wait isn’t too painful!

       hello  loves  ,   what’s  up  !   i’m  super  excited  to  be  here  &  to  finally  play  my  precious girl  ,   jade aka kool kat   .   i’m  LOLA  ,   use  she / her prounouns  ,   i am NINETEEN  ,   &   i  am  currently  in  the  gmt + 1 timezone  which  means  yes  ,  my  ass should’ve  been  awake  for  intro  posting  but  i  don’t  know  what  time  management  is  and  ended  up  swamped  w/  work  ,  so  !   everything   you  need  to  know  about  about  miss  kat  is  under  the  cut  ,   &  i’m  rlly  thrilled  to  be  apart  of  such  a  wonderful  rp  with  such  gorgeous  muses  .  corniness over  ––   if  you’re  looking  to  plot  sumn  out  ,   just  hit  that   ♥︎    &   i’ll  make  my  way  on  over  to  ur  dms  ,  or  feel  free  to  add  me  up   on  discord  which  i’ll  give  in im’s  if  anybody’s  interested  !   ♡♡♡         tw  :   family issues  ,  body image issues  &  drug mention  ( not  explicit ) . 

001 . SYNOPSIS  . FULL     NAME  .      jade        kikuchi . NICKNAMES  .      kool kat    . AGE  .      twenty - one . DATE     OF     BIRTH  .      twenty  -  seventh     of     september   ,     1993      /     libra . PLACE     OF     BIRTH  .      harajuku ,   tokyo ,     japan .         GENDER  .       cisgender     female . SEXUALITY  .     (  closeted  )  pansexual  . NATIONALITY  .      japanese  ,  now  american  too  after  successfully  gaining  citizenship  . ETHNICITY  .      asian  . OCCUPATION  .       fashion designer at katz designz      ,     former  fashion  design  and  journalist  student  back  in  her  original  timeline  . PLAYLIST  .      here  !  (  +  )     charismatic , enthusiastic , warm , energetic , adventurous , compassionate , animated . (  -  )     deceptive ,  independent ,  emotional , territorial , ambitious , impulsive , temperamental , insecure , sarcastic .  

002 . AESTHETIC  .      wheatgrass  smoothies , 90′s  anime  with  subtitles  , chanel  no. 5, speeding  on  a  desert  road  with  the  windows  down ,  painting  your  toenails  on  the  dashboard ,  neon  prints ,  cat  lazing  on  a  balcony  in  the  sun , black  lace ,  japanese  horror  films  ,  sour  cocktails  with  sugar  around  the  rim , half - smoked  cigarettes ,  stacks  of  fashion  magazines , long  hair  hastily  dyed  different  colours in  a  motel  bathroom ,  thrift  stores   .

003. INFORMATION  .

tl;dr : a flighty, inattentive adventurer: a follower of whims; personable and sociable but lacks the skills to maintain relationships because she’s entirely (and perhaps too) career focused, checks her horoscope daily and entirely relies on the stars when concerning relationships, epitome of a britney spears / gwen stefani stan back in the 2000′s, still owns a (bedazzled) flip phone, collector of vintage fashion (chanel, elle, juicy couture etc.) a subscriber to the Leonardo Da Vinci sleeping method; catch her at 2 am making soufflés or buying plane tickets to shiwei so she can really experience the culture: will tell you she loves you ten minutes after first introduction because she’s high: kind of unintentionally insensitive to those she doesn’t know and closed off but in like a cool, lovable way. 

•    heads up im running on like 5 hrs sleep so sry when this inevitably derails ! ok sweet let’s get into this . 

•    so as aforementioned this is jade kukichi, aka, kool kat. she was dubbed that by her friends due to her unique fashion style and sense of dress, and it’s stuck. lbr nobody other than her friends can use that term so if you do, she’s just going to stare at u for a quick sec before saying ‘it’s jade’. 

•    born in harajuku, tokyo to a cardiothoracic surgeon of a father and a politician of a mother, jade grew up traveling the world and becoming flighty af, never thinking she was going to make long - term friends and kinda being okay with that. 

•    her family has never stayed in one place for very long, though her aging parents eventually settled into a permanent residence in the us around the time she turned sixteen, not soon enough for jade to break the habit of wandering, but thankfully quick enough for her to meet the bratz girls who were just as adventurous and fun - loving as she. she's spent much of her teen life jumping from place to place wherever her interests are that moment, collecting people along the way, but to find friends was the only thing she was missing. jade has a brilliant mind, but she lacks patience and follow through. she needs guidance or she'll jump from idea to idea, job to job, whim to whim.

•    ngl, jade pretty much hated her home life. her parents were an overbearing presence in her life, her mother wanting jade to be a proper lady who also went into a profession like theirs (entirely serious and stifling when it came to creativity, doctor, politician, lawyer etc.) while jade herself wanted to check out the latest trends and go to the mall w her friends – so she turned all of her focus and energy into getting good grades in everything she wanted to do in the hopes that she could be the most successful fashion designer, then leaving town forever. 

•    like she spent 7 yrs in high school graduating w honours but she barely knew what was happening in 9/10 of her classes and sometimes she just slept through classes and then wing her exams which she miraculously did well at. it was just not a good idea to send jade to a public school at 11 after being in boarding school for the rest of her life and then never really enforce any rules :~\ she has trouble with that kind of thing.. as in making logical choices instead of saying "YEAH lets go watch american psycho and smoke weed!" skipping chemistry to do just that 

•    she loves fun and values doing what makes her happy over most things. it's hard to pin her down and she spends most of her life chasing after ideas that don't really follow any sort of conscious order, bc she’s really got that ‘i’ve got dreams and i’m gonna do everything in my power to achieve them’ personality. 

•    according to bratz canon she’s worked as literally everything ? she’s one of those insufferable people who r just. good everything ig and that’s just how it is on this bitch of an earth. jade’s been a photographer, a song - writer and bass player in a rock band (shout out to bratz rock angelz the best movie w the best soundtrack ever), a student studying fashion design, a fashion columnist, a quickly fired nanny, and many other things in between. 

•    so when she appears in toonsville she’s kind of out of it that she’s not doing something w her skills and sets up her own business which she loves ? being her own boss suits her fine (for now) because she’s got a Real Job and she's actually trying rly hard so she can fulfill her dreams !! like suck it mom nd dad haha !!!

•    jade has a lot of weird feelings TM about her body and her looks and struggles a lot with her self confidence :~( she had a shit time at school with boys saying she was too thin and she compensated by acting like she didn't like anyone at all for a while and now she thinks she isn't good enough for anyone when rly she is a cinnamon bun too good for this world too pure 

•    best friend ever she is so good at being a friend if u text her at 3am to go out or cry on her shoulder shes ready to go at 3:15 even if she was sleeping w lots of snacks and treats and love!!! she is sooo extroverted around those she’s comfortable w, she gains so much energy from being around people and she loves being nice and being around ppl she likes 

•    she becomes the mom of groups pretty easily (hence why she’s the leader of the bratz) bc she bottles up most of her own problems to help ppl with theirs!! which is toxic yea but she puts people first always so !! plz help her poor repressed soul!! rip kool kat.. 

•    still super into the stuff of her time so like.. she loves the x files and bad reality tv shows (i want to be a hilton) and reads gossip magazines on the reg because she enjoys that stuff! also very into girl groups.. ginger spice / posh spice is an eternal mood.  

•    anyway yes sweet adult-child of 21 (she is in denial about that tho like she doesn't want to be childish) who is v nice v kind v loyal v baked a lot of time, v passionate v silly. idk what i'm doin hope u like it < 3

004. WANTED CONNECTIONS . 

friends / best friends / ride or dies . jade genuinely loves people, loves talking to strangers and getting into intense conversations with people she’s only just met, learning other people’s way of life and bettering herself for getting. she is, however, incredibly blunt and has never once minced words to keep from hurting someone’s feelings or to ease them into a situation. she’d much rather have a one-time conversation with a stranger than make long lasting relationships. she has three very close friends –  to the point of co - dependence –  and honestly, she’d rather spend all of her time doing things she loves such as her hobbies, sticking her nose into the latest vogue, or searching for cute collars and treats for her cat mica w them instead of making new friends. she's also FUN and she'd be happy to go on crazy road trips or buy out a movie theater for a day or anything that she thinks will her buds happy. she's traveled all over, so she’s v well read and cultured. she loves people but she hates complication and won't deal with any sort of emotional labor. she wants to live in the moment and expects everyone in her life to do so as well. just be chill, y'all. 

frenemies / enemies /  rivals  . please be her enemy, she needs people to antagonize shdhshd. she grew up pretty much affluent so she’s pretty spoiled even if she doesn’t want to admit it, and that rebellious side of her hasn’t died down yet. despite the fact that she is wealthy and in good community standing, she has a hard time letting go of childish grudges. in general she’s got a lot of suppressed feelings and ready to fight everyone who hurts her friends – like an irritated cat – so, honestly, come at her ? she is sometimes a little fickle and flighty and a unintentionally stuck up when it comes to art / fashion and she has definitely said the wrong thing at the wrong time and pissed the wrong people off, she can’t stand anyone underestimating her or thinking she’s dumb bc she’s interested in fashion. like gtfo !

ex’s , fwb’s , possible love interests .  jade is fairly fluid romantically and is the type of person who hates labels but also just wants to be cherished and called cute pet names lowkey. she loves a lot and gives a lot to her relationships, but typically doesn't want to commit to anything important. she’s gone from one disastrous relationship to another, ending up with a boyfriend who constantly ridiculed her image that was essentially the catalyst for her cutting off romantic ties, quite a recent wound before she found herself on the island actually. worst thing is tht she’s convinced herself that she’s been the problem in these relationships –  that she turns good people bad or that she is too much for people to deal with, she’s not sure what the issue is and she doesn’t really want to know. so…. fuck everything amirite ? anyway, she’s a strong independent woman who don’t need no (wo)man. 

etc . pls give me people jade can give a makeover to, people she shares an apartment w on the island, people who think fashion is girly and vapid.. creatives who love what she’s doing, anything tbh << 3

HS Epi Meat, p5 reaction

Meat Page 5.

We might be due another perspective switch - unless the plot stays with John until he's assembled all his friends.

When John goes to pick up Rose, it’ll probably be on LOLAR. Terezi might still be there, if she hasn’t gone clownhunting just yet.

If so, perhaps we’ll get to see whether Rose ‘n Terezi’s migraine was really due to the substance abuse + caleidoscopic colours of LOLAR + glitches… Or whether it was due to the GO timeline “supposed to” have gone differently, with John’s current retcon being the thing missing to happen. It takes a bit of effort, remembering what everyone was exactly up to on this part of the GO timeline and what would be a fortunate time for John to take it off the rails. For Kanaya, that might very well be the moment Jane set up her literal shop on LOFAF, selling her all those blood potions, for instance.

For Dirk, it might be before his conversation with Arquiusprite.

I'm getting the feeling that John might be jumping to exactly those moments in the scenes where the characters were at their lowest, self-esteem wise. Giving them a literal second breath. ;)

Not sure what we can expect from the ghost side of things though. I think they might not be duplicated, leading us to meet up with (Vriska) as we knew her, punk cut and all. Even though GO Terezi's ghost will be there with her too.

I'm half convinced Calliope will get copied somehow, but not entirely sure. The only 'real' duplicate Calliope had already, besides Alt Calliope, was her dreamself. He could snatch the body, but I was under the impression Caliborn consumed it in a literal sense to establish his dominance over the body.

Meanwhile, it occurred to me to that Andrew Hussie (the author avator) will make a comeback, probably a background cameo. I've only now realized that he's a literal ghost writer of his own story right now, in-canon. While outside of canon, he’s more becoming like Stan Lee, executive producing stories using characters he designed.

Anyway, let's start this up.

---

"The stands of the Cantown Memorial Arena" Okay, my first thought was this takes place on the meteor, but yeah, it's a building named presumably after the literal Cantown WV build in his station, back on Earth. Or the Exile Town that Bec Noir massacred. Though, does this indicate a perspective switch back to Roxy... Or is the CMA where Rumble in the Pumpkin Patch is recorded? Probably the latter, meaning the perspective is switching back to Dave! Uh, the alpha version, I guess I should call him? Post-canon, adult Dave?

"His shit eating was so brutal that no one, except maybe Jake, cares that he’s taking a phone call in the middle of a live broadcast." So, was it staged, or did Jake really get a power boost, coming into his role as the Page?

Also, I feel like if Karkat's run for president gets announced by Dave on live television, "and the crowd goes wild" will apply here.

"Dave takes a seat on the couch, right in Karkat’s butt groove." Okay, so he's not going just yet. ... Karkat's butt groove is available because the latter absconded the fuck out last we saw him, hahah.

"a piece of absolute garbage." Callback secured.

"DAVE: while the beatdown you just received was as thorough as it was humiliating im afraid as usual the solution to this problem should probably not involve your decapitation" While Dirk might be the one to keep this beaten dead horse of an in-joke going, Dave isn't going to be the one to cut its head off and end its misery. :P

"DAVE: jake just kicked your ass DAVE: thats really all there is to say on the matter" AWWWWW yessss, hahahahah. Dirk's laid down, on the ground, on his smartphone, just like Dave was after his beatdown by Bro. Awesome callback.

"DAVE: its really amazing how this meme we have going here continues to be exactly as funny as the day it was established DIRK: Isn’t it always though? DAVE: yeah" That's Strider Irony at its finest for you. You never can be entirely sure non-sincerity is what's taking place here.

" DAVE: how DID you get your ass kicked so bad DAVE: jake sucks and his raps are fucking awful" Oh, scratch that thing about his power level, then. ... The rapbots didn't join in to beat Dirk down, did they? ... Though I would like to see either them or their zilly versions again. :P

"

On the TV, Dirk makes an elegant hand sign that once might have represented solidarity with some ancient coastal rap group but now has been utterly divorced from its cultural context here on Earth C." Is it a sign associated with... the ICP? Yes, I guess whatever 'references' the kids make get picked up as divine decree...

"The camera pans away from him and over the crowd. It zooms in on a young crocodile wearing an oversized T-shirt with Jake’s highly marketable ass plastered over it and the phrase “Tally ho” written in big bubble letters." ... including stuff that was already dated when the gods were still actual kids. (By which I mean the phrase, not Jake's marketable ass.)

"DIRK: Holding back a little to achieve certain results doesn’t necessarily mean you’re participating in a farce or rigging the event. DIRK: We do this all the time. We hold back our thoughts, our true feelings, our full potential. We disguise how much we know about what and when, for many purposes. To ease relations, to let others behave naturally and make up their minds without undue intervention. To wait for the right moments to show our hands, to pick our battles. " Dirk is still overthinking things. :P He's also still a schemer, even though he's grown more mature. I think in this case, he might be trying to keep up Jake's taste for adventure and hone his skills? That might be related to the fact that he's one of the few in the know of what John is up to (also a thing he's withholding right now), and he might be trying to get Jake battle-ready in case he needs to be. ... In case he doesn't believe they'll stay irrelevant to the plot.

"DAVE: my dog you are full of some SHIT today arent you DIRK: Absolutely." It's a good thing Dave can see Dirk typing, otherwise I might have asked whether Dirk may have reinstated an autoresponder to answer when he's busy. :P

"DIRK: And when it comes to theater, there are just as many reasons for restraint. To build tension. To set the stage. To give the people someone to root against." Okay, that's actually kind of meta. Also, in-story, it might mean Dirk is deliberately trying to come off as weaker, to get people to boo at Jake so he can play hero?

"DAVE: i can see you on tv DAVE: theyre booing you dude" Okay, never mind.

"The excitable salamander manning the camera switches to a fish-eye lens for some unfathomable reason, giving the whole exchange an air of demented absurdity. Dirk’s sunglasses distort and stretch to dominate the entire screen." I'm all here for NPC races doing menial labor half-way competently. :P Also, I feel like there should be some sort of visual callback to that image of Dirk's sunglasses. Something to do with the black hole from Problem Sleuth expanding to suck the entire universe up, which was reflected in the Stiller shades, and the event in itself is being called back to now, in the Black Hole sucking up the Furthest Ring!

"JAKE: What about the agitated rabble? Theyre starting to throw things. DIRK: I don’t know. Do a dance or something. Sing a song. DIRK: They love anything you do. JAKE: Ummm. JAKE: Ok sounds stupid but ill try." Using Jake's charisma as crowd control? Dirk, you beautiful mastermind.

"Jake tips an imaginary hat toward center stage and begins doing the Charleston." Hah, right, this might be a callback to that other Page dancing old-time dances, hahah, Tavros after he assembled the ghost army.

"Just as Dirk predicted, the crowd immediately loses its shit, except for a single carapacian in the front row, who continues to glower at Dirk with an expression of absolute and total contempt." If Jack hadn't remained in the session, I would've designated this guy as his great-whatever-grandchild.

"DAVE: why do you want people to hate you so much DAVE: its fucked up DIRK: You’re reading way too much into it." I don't necessarily believe that.

"DIRK: If I wanted another round of embarrassingly indulgent and mutually masturbatory psychoanalysis, I would have called my daughter instead. DAVE: hm DAVE: do i need to point out how fucking weird what you just said was or can that start going without saying at this point" This. This is Homestuck. This entire exchange.

" DIRK: The point is, playing myself up as a villain figure in this hacky rap pageant has nothing to do with getting people to dislike me. Besides, everyone loves a good villain. When they boo, they don’t really mean it." That has me thinking of Thog, a villain from Order of the Stick, actually. But yeah, Caliborn, Condy and others were really good villains. Doesn't mean we didn't mean it when we cursed them, though.

"DIRK: I think you’d be surprised by how popular I actually am. DAVE: i dunno man" At some point, playing the villain stops being a role, if you're too thorough in antagonizing the crowd. Dirk may have gone overboard here - in his role in the pageant I mean, I don't think anyone loves their god any less. Just one more way to show that, victory state or not, their original issues still come into play and challenge them to grow.

"DIRK: The point is, this is much less about me, and more about providing a foil for Jake’s heroism and charisma. DIRK: It’s very important that his popularity continues to be cultivated, to maximize his political capital. DAVE: political capital" ... Oooooh! Thinking three steps ahead of everyone again, nice going Dirk! I think Dirk might even have foreseen Dave rallying Karkat to stand against Jane, but I wonder which side he'll be choosing!

" DAVE: what the fuck are... DAVE: ok how long have you known about the jane thing DAVE: i mean is this something you have been planning for like DAVE: a long time or DIRK: Planning is such an intense word." Oh, he's trying to pull the strings again, is he? What game is he playing then, what policies does he want to instate, if any? ... Is Dirk a supposed xenophone too, or just playing to the tune of the largest group of swing voters?

" DAVE: jane is a shitty candidate dude DAVE: shes going to be so shitty DIRK: I thought you’d feel that way." ... Pfff I just realized Dirk wasn't typing, since this was a phone call. He's saying this all out loud! Typing's the old way of conversation, we discarded it for the most part, everyone has their Gift of Gab now. Well, hopefully at least Dave's part isn't being recorded and broadcast.

"DIRK: I respectfully disagree. DAVE: i get shes a good friend of yours and all but even you have to admit how far up her own ass she is DIRK: Of course. I consider it to be among her best qualifications for the job." Dirk might just be thinking: a self-absorbed candidate won't notice being pulled around. Even though she's, you know, his dear friend and all, he's still planning on manipulating her. :/ Old habits and such.

"DAVE: christ DAVE: ok if nothing else have you at least taken into account the DEVASTATION to the economy this will cause???" Strider Irony(tm).

"DIRK: Dave, I think if you search your soul, you’ll come to the same conclusion I have. Jane is just what this planet needs. DIRK: We’ve all had our fun here, but it’s easy to overlook the fact that civilization on Earth C is hardly a sustainable proposition. DIRK: Just beneath the surface, it’s quite a dangerous and unstable place." Oh, cool, so Dirk was acting on the same things Dave noticed, just having drawn different conclusions. Guess there's more to playing god as a winner of Sburb than sitting on your butt all day long, huh?

"DAVE: i know that DAVE: which is why actually i think it would be cool to have a president that is good instead of bad DIRK: He’s not as great as you think. DAVE: what" See, I know Dirk'll say Karkat, but I kind of wish he'd say Obama. :P

"DAVE: who DAVE: obama?? DAVE: how dare you" XD PFFFFFffffhah, okay, should've seen that coming.

"DIRK: I’m happy for both of you, really. It’s nice that you encourage and support each other in this way. But you’re sending him on a fool’s errand which can only end badly." Like, I understand where Dirk's coming from, we know how unbalanced Karkat is at his worst. But Dirk's seems to be the conservatist route, while the current status quo is so unbalanced someone with at least a little liberal thinking should try changing policy, little by little. ... Okay now Homestuck has me doing political discourse. Hussieeeeeeee! ... Why am I now picturing a Homestuck AU about the climate change truant student marches of Europe?

"DAVE: wait DAVE: how do you even know hes entering the race DAVE: we like just decided this DIRK: A competent political operative has his ways. DIRK: Besides, it was always pretty obvious to me you’d react this way the moment the announcement was made." Okay, not ruling out entirely Dirk has something spying on Dave, but that would verge too much on what Bro would've done in his place. He probably just cold-mindedly assessed his potential response.

"DAVE: cause if youve already got jake on your side then i guess we might as well just fucking quit DIRK: I wouldn’t worry about that. DIRK: He and I don’t quite have the rapport we once did. DIRK: He’s “over me” and doesn’t spare opportunities to make ostentatious demonstration of this claim. DAVE: um DIRK: Basically he doesn’t like being told what to do. Especially not by me." Cool, okay, so... Jake is needy in his own way, in showing he can fend for himself, at least that's how Dirk sees it. Guess they still hang out a lot though, just no longer "like that". That must be a letdown for the shippers, but a boon for the people that felt betrayed at seeing Dirk & Jake back together in the Credits. I like that middle road, actually! And hey, the versions of Jake & Dirk in the New Game Plus timeline, or whatever we should call it, are still fair game!

"DIRK: So it’s fair to say as of now, he’s still fully in play. DIRK: Not that I should be encouraging you, really. DAVE: you are one doubletalking son of a bitch you know that DAVE: i cant tell if you dont want us to run or are reverse psychology mindfucking us into running" Very true, that. Why would he share the truth about Jake if he wants to win, unless he wants fair competition? Best not to dwell on it too long on this neverending stairway of hidden intentions, lest we fall down it.

" DAVE: not like i can just stand around and wait for president crocker to like DAVE: write fucking grammar laws into the constitution" Pfffff, yes, I had forgotten about Jane's grammar practices, hahah. Guess she has a good running mate in Dirk for that, at least, capitalization and everything in order when he's not rapping.

"DIRK: Sorry to cut this short, but diapers are starting to come down pretty hard right now, and some of them haven’t even had their babies removed. DAVE: what" what. I hope it's at least consort babies, they're arguably the most resilient, as semi-sapient animals.

"DIRK: That was a joke." Ah.

"Jake can’t help but watch the motion, raking his eyes over the muscles shifting beneath the skin of Dirk’s neck and arms.

There is something implacably magnificent about Dirk Strider, Jake thinks, untamed like a wild game beast of incredible size and strength." ... Well then! I didn't think the narration would offer us this view from the perspective of Jake, thought it would be reseverd for John! Not entirely sure how I feel about the privilege of seeing Jake pine for Dirk, though. :P At least it clarifies where the allure is in it, for him. It's an extension of his taste for adventure and his upbringing on an island full of terribly powerful beasts.

"Of course, their history together is never far from Jake’s mind, however many years it’s been since their last tussle of an amorous nature. The old dramas and triumphs in the days of Sburb. Dirk’s companionship has been taxing to the heart, to say the least, and yet he’s taught Jake so much—about combat, philosophy, life, love." Okay, that is just such a Jake thing to phrase it like this. I'm glad we get to see he's not so oblivious or un-elloquent in his mind as he presents himself to the outside world, consciously or not.

"But sometimes, despite their checkered and problematic past, Jakes wishes that he could seize Dirk by the proverbial horns and wrest him bodily into becoming a much more agreeable fellow." Heheh, so Jake actually would like to impose on Dirk some manners. At least with him it stays with desires, while Dirk really did try to impose on Jake when they were together.

"DIRK: How about you kick off the next round? DIRK: I bet this crowd will settle its shit right down the moment you drop the latest rhymes you’ve been tinkering with." This is going to be painful to read, isn't it? ... If we're going to read them at all. ... I swear, this might just lead into them having "the xest rapoff in the history of Earth C".

"Jake’s face lights up. He composes himself, adjusting a bow tie, although he is not wearing one, and making a vague gesture like he’s twirling one end of that mustache Dirk has not yet let him grow. Dirk lets him go with a gentle smile, like the sort you’d give to a dog for performing a trick adequately. Jake responds to the signal like an Olympic athlete hearing the starter pistol. He was born for this." All the best and worst aspects of Dirk & Jake as a couple are basically summarized here. I mean, Dirk is not even WITH Jake and vetoes some of his choices. Then again, Jake really does have TERRIBLE (but hilarious) taste in mannerisms.

"JAKE: Tally ho its me, jake mcgee! JAKE: Popping my pistols off, two shots and a kiss JAKE: My aim is tops, i never miss" ... I'm not disappointed, this really IS almost physically painful to read, as expected.

... Okay that was actually a very amazing rap. Well thought out, good use of the vocabulary, dated though it is. I liked "jake-eng's" and "jape-slings" in particular, especially since that was what Vriska dismissed him as, a joke, a jape.

"The crowd, as Dirk rightly predicted, has settled its shit right down. This is not due to any accidental brilliance on the part of Jake English, but rather due to an abashed but loyal brand of pity, the kind a devoted fan cannot help but feel when they see a beloved celebrity make an ass out of themselves during a live broadcast they have waited two and a half years in line to buy a ticket for." I think this might be Dirk's POV. Not everyone's tastes in rap are as dignified as his, after all. :P Consorts in particular might love this. Then again, we saw John embarass carapacians not too long ago, they're not immune to pitying people. But hey, on the brightside, maybe some of the audience <>'s Jake now. :P

"Dirk’s phone begins going off again." Unless it's something more ominous, this is probably Dave having the last quip.

"With a casual flick of his wrist, Dirk snaps out a bright red tranquilizer handgun and shoots Jake in the neck. Jake’s glasses crack when he hits the mat. A chorus of boos rises up from the crowd like groundwater. Dirk artfully dodges a bucket of obscene troll fluid to field yet another very important personal call." ... Did Dirk actually use a Crockertech tranquilizer on his co-god? What the hell, Dirk? Guess all is fair in the ring.

And I suppose it's not Dave then that is calling him this time, if he takes such drastic measures.

"DIRK: Yo Rose, what's up?" Oooh, if we get to see this, that would be early we get to see Rose again! Dirk and Rose'll probably be planning their next move now that John has left. (Which I take Rose to already know about, through her Seer powers, or a call with Roxy.) ... Maybe some of their plans only could have worked IF John left, if they wanted to regain some measure of relevance through them.

QZGS|The King’s Avatar Fic: In which drunk!YX meets witch/teashop owner!WJX [Coffee Shop AU]

Title: (I’m Not Throwing Away) My Shot Fandom: The King’s Avatar / Quan Zhi Gao Shou Character(s)/Pairing(s): WangYe; Chu Yunxiu Summary: Ye Xiu hadn’t expected the day would come when he’d get kicked out of Excellent Era — the game development company that he helped built from scratch — yet here he was. He was not the type of man to brood over something inevitable, because there had been signs, and he should have known better. Morose, frustrated, and incredibly drunk in his friend Chu Yunxiu’s lounge, Misty Rain, Ye Xiu met the tea sommelier and witch, Wang Jiexi. [(Magical) Coffee Shop AU] Part: 1/1 Rating: PG-13 A/N: Happy birthday, best dad Captain Wang! Takes place before “The Magic Hour is Now” (YuHuang). Utterly self-indulgent, as usual.

Writing Commission | Editing & Translation Services

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"How much booze did you put in this?"

Ye Xiu was holding the stem of the champagne flute absentmindedly, swirling the content inside; he narrowed his eyes with suspicion, bruised shadows beneath them telling of many nights too involved with work to have a proper sleeping schedule for days on end.

"I'm not wasting my best champagne on a guy who gets drunk after just one glass," Chu Yunxiu, the alchemic mixologist and owner of Misty Rain, one of the more high-end lounges in downtown, murmured in slight disdain.

"Then this isn't a mimosa, is it?" Ye Xiu glowered, placing the glass down with a resolute clink.

A few drops of the liquid spilled over the rim and left a sticky trail over his fingers, which made his frown more profound.

"No, it's just orange juice in a fancy glass." Tucking a strand of dark hair behind the curve of her ear, Chu Yunxiu smiled cheekily at him, slapped a napkin down beside the glass, and proceeded to go over to greet another patron who’d just sat down at the bar.

By the time he finished wiping his hand and lit a cigarette, Chu Yunxiu was already back in her original position, elegantly pouring precise measures of different coloured alcohol, fruit juices, and syrups into the silver cocktail shaker.

“Come on, Lao Chu, give me a break, will you?” Ye Xiu continued their previous conversation as if they’d never been interrupted, and he blew out a stream of smoke in a melodramatic manner that had Chu Yunxiu, who’d known this man for almost a decade — since high school, actually — rolling her eyes. “I’m depressed and unemployed, and I want to drink my sorrows away. Won’t you help a dear old friend out?”

He slumped over the bar countertop and rested his chin on his arms, dark eyes staring up expectantly at the beautiful woman through frazzled forelocks. Said beautiful woman paid him no heed as she continued to artfully shake the apparatus with both of her hands, the cold metal winking sharply under the dimmed lighting of the lounge, the wine-red of her nail polish a stark contrast to the alabaster paleness of her skin, making her movements more like a practiced, elegant choreography than tedious repetition.

She grabbed a chilled martini glass, rimmed in sugar, and poured the crisp-toned drink with a tint of yellow into the glassware, adding some lemon rinds on the side as the final touch of the dance.

After she served another patron and came back, the bartender still remained silent, red lips pursed in thought.

“Lao Chu…” Ye Xiu started again, a hint of childish whining laced within his deep voice. An unusual combo even for one of the most shameless men Chu Yunxiu had the misfortune to know.

“You mentioned the word ‘old’ one more time, Ye Xiu, I swear to god—"

“Please accept my most sincere apology, Ms. Chu, oh most beauteous, virtuous queen of the classy club scene—”

“Save it,” Chu Yunxiu sighed, hazel gaze finally sparing a sympathetic glance at his direction. “If I make you a drink, will you be a good boy and go home after so I can do my business in peace?”

“Absolutely,” Ye Xiu nodded, instantly pulling himself up into a proper sitting position. “So, an actual mimosa then…?”

“I’m making you something else,” Chu Yunxiu was resolute in this regard. She picked out several bottles that lined the shelves mounted on the back wall and began to pour them carefully into the shaker.

Satisfied by the fact that he was about to get joyously drunk on some sort of delicious, fruity cocktail, Ye Xiu was content just quietly observing his friend shine on her stage.

It was always entrancing watching the famed bartender of Misty Rain concoct her signature drinks. Back when she was in school, she’d double-majored in botany and culinary sorcery; after that, she spent a few years abroad studying winemaking and brewing techniques in several European countries, which allowed her to sophisticatedly combine alcohol and the magical properties of plant- and flower-based liqueurs.  These days, as her reputation of being the only female executive in the competitive business of club management and a skilled alchemic mixologist spread far and wide in the city, Chu Yunxiu became known as a bartender who specialized in creating the perfect, magical cocktail that would satisfy the drinker — whether the patron was drinking to forget, to gain confidence, to fall in love, to fall out of love, to always remember…

Chu Yunxiu paused when she got to the last step of mixing; usually if she were to cast a spell, this would be the time to add the final key ingredient. Depending on what effects she was trying to achieve, she would add a combination of the liqueurs or specially-treated flowers or minerals she kept in a locked cabinet that only she and her assistant Li Hua had access to.

The subtle pause didn’t escape Ye Xiu’s observation, who only needed to shake his head once to notify the mixologist that he was not seeking comfort in the embrace of magic tonight.

Sure, it sucked to get kicked out of the game development company that he’d built from scratch — that he basically brought to its current success almost single-handedly — only to be abandoned by his boss and teammates because apparently his next project was deemed too old-fashioned for the young people of this age. Ye Xiu wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but he was certain that part — if not most — of the reason his latest project got rejected, that he himself got rejected, was due to the fact that his last few games hadn’t earned the company as much profit as Tao Xuan had hoped.

It might also have to do with the fact that Ye Xiu was very firmly against the incorporation of sorcery into gaming hardware, and from Excellent Era’s perspective, that was a lost opportunity financially that they’d rather avoid.

Call him primitive if you would, but Ye Xiu was adamant about keeping sorcery and magic away from the gaming industry. It just didn’t seem… right.

It wasn’t as if Ye Xiu hadn’t expected this. Though he might seem frivolous at times, always going along with the flow of his life with a devil-may-care attitude that had his friends equally impressed and worried, the experienced programmer and designer really did pour all his time, energy, and passion into Excellent Era for the past decade. In the beginning, the team had a very clear goal they were striving for, but once they’d achieved it, had a sweet and addictive taste of victory, they wanted more and the company’s path began to diverge from Ye Xiu’s.

So yeah, he’d seen this coming, and it really, really sucked, but Ye Xiu wasn’t a man who liked to brood over something inevitable. Still, he had to admit that being abandoned — would ‘betrayed’ be a more accurate description in this case? He didn’t know — it hurt more than Ye Xiu had anticipated. Even more poignant was the waves of emptiness and disappointment that he found himself drowning and suffocating in as he wandered aimlessly in the crowded streets of downtown tonight.

Before he knew it, Ye Xiu had found himself at the doors of Misty Rain. He wasn’t a drinker, but occasionally he’d have business meetings in one of the private rooms here, or he’d meet up with a few close friends for a (non-alcoholic) drink and mindless but entertaining conversations.

Garnishing the martini glass with a sprig of fresh lavender, Chu Yunxiu presented the drink to her friend with a small flourishing introduction, “Here you go: Lavender Martini. Changed the proportions of the base just for you, you lightweight.”

The cocktail gleamed with a tinge of mystique under the warm, orange light of the lounge, the crystal-violet swaying in the tall-stemmed glass like liquid amethyst that held some kind of unnamable power. The sprig of lavender leaned against the side of the glass, forlorn but elegant.

“Always so considerate,” Ye Xiu praised her with a mocking grin, picking up the glass and raising it towards Chu Yunxiu, and said with a bittersweet tone, “cheers.”

The first sip was creamy and smooth, terrifyingly easy to go down, making him crave more already though he knew even a small amount of alcohol would be a danger to himself. After the sweetness of vanilla dissipated, the gentle floral flavor of lavender spread in his mouth before the delicate earthy undertones of juniper berries took over. Even without the magical spells, the complex aroma of Chu Yunxiu’s cocktail still had the ability to fascinate, bewitch, and capture the heart of the drinker.

“This is good,” Ye Xiu said, like he was genuinely surprised, after he’d swallowed the first mouthful, one corner of his lips twisting up.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Chu Yunxiu hummed, though there was the smallest hint of a pleased smile along her painted lips, “you’re only getting one drink tonight.”

“Oh well, I tried,” Ye Xiu shrugged and took another sip, his eyes slipping close to enjoy the light yet dizzying flavor.

“Should I give Mucheng a call and tell her to pick up your drunk, sorry ass later?” Chu Yunxiu asked as she mixed another drink for another patron. She could already spot the flush tinting Ye Xiu’s usually pale cheeks, and when the man glanced over at her words, it took him several seconds to focus.

“No. D-don’t call her,” Ye Xiu’s tone was uncharacteristically imploring, which surprised Chu Yunxiu though she said nothing. “Please.”

“She’ll know eventually.”

“I know. Just, not right now. Not tonight.”

Before Chu Yunxiu had a chance to convince him otherwise, she was waved over by Li Hua, who notified her that the big party of fifteen that had made a reservation for their VIP room had arrived and the boss was required to greet them. With such a huge group, it was either a celebratory occasion or an important business deal about to be finalized. Either way, both of these circumstances would usually necessitate the presence of Misty Rain’s alchemic mixologist, who would be responsible for mixing cocktails that enhance a patron’s mood or increase a businessman’s power of persuasion.

“Don’t drop while I’m gone,” Chu Yunxiu tapped her friend’s shoulder as she breezily walked by behind him, “I’m not paying taxi fare to get you home.”

“Heartless,” Ye Xiu chuckled, the word a little muffled since his lips were still touching the rim of the glass.

“Bite me,” Chu Yunxiu ran fingers through her wavy locks to tame them as best as she could before she walked away to receive her guests.

Meanwhile, Ye Xiu continued sipping his drink and taking drags on his cigarette, his gaze sporadically lingering on the different patrons in the lounge. He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that the cocktail had definitely made him feel more relaxed, the tenseness in his shoulders melting away, the swirl of repetitive thoughts in his head becoming nothing but a warm haze, the edges of his vision blurring like an out-of-focus photograph. He felt his eyelids steadily growing heavier, the asphyxiated weight he’d been feeling since he stepped out of the office of Excellent Era that night lifting just a little from his chest, allowing him to breathe easier.

When Chu Yunxiu came back to work on the drinks the party had ordered, she saw, with a helpless but tender smile on her face, that Ye Xiu had finished his cocktail and had, as she expected, collapsed onto the table, cheek resting on his forearms, fingers still loosely looped around the stem of the empty glass.

She shrugged off the jade green suit jacket she’d worn over her shoulders and placed it gently over Ye Xiu’s back, and then she went around the counter to begin mixing a new batch of drinks.

Just as she was about to finish up the last order, a familiar face approached the bar, his forelocks covering his left eye, his oversized sweater and knitted scarf an apparent disparity from the other patrons in the lounge, who were at least donning semi-formal fashion.

“Ms. Chu, I’m here with your order,” the man said, his voice almost lost in the contemporary jazz playing in the background as he heaved a cardboard box onto the counter.

“Jiexi?” Chu Yunxiu greeted the man with a bright smile. “Rare to see you deliver personally.”

“I didn’t want to trouble my staff this late at night, so I figure I’d pay you a visit myself,” Wang Jiexi gave her a light smile — effortless but distant. “If you have some time, you can check over the stock and see if there are any issues.”

“We’ve collaborated for so long, I know I’d have no problems dealing with you,” Chu Yunxiu laughed, pouring the last drink from the cocktail shaker into a margarita glass and garnishing it with a single treated violet blossom after murmuring a short spell under her breath. She sat the glass down carefully onto a tray and gestured for the servers to take them to the VIP room.

“I’ll be back in a few,” Chu Yunxiu said with a wave of her hand, “make yourself at home.”

Wang Jiexi nodded and seated himself on one of the stools. After scrolling on his phone for a few minutes, he quickly got bored and glanced around his surroundings in curiosity instead. Clubs and bars were not places he frequented since he preferred quiet premises with more natural lighting, but even Wang Jiexi, who was the owner of a sorcery-based tea shop named Tiny Herb Teahouse, had to admit that Misty Rain had the kind of chic and elegant air — much like the owner of the lounge herself — that Wang Jiexi didn’t exactly find disagreeable.

Two seats adjacent to his, Wang Jiexi spotted a man who seemed to be… sound asleep? The green jacket thrown over his back was slipping due to his unconscious shifting about in his slumber, and the man’s face, though shielded by messy ink-black hair, still showed signs of exhaustion and inebriation in the blush of his face and shadows beneath his eyes. The slightest frown appeared along Wang Jiexi’s brows, and he considered going over to see if he was all right. How much alcohol must the man had consumed to get to this point?

“Sorry for the wait,” Chu Yunxiu’s silvery voice interrupted Wang Jiexi’s contemplation as she slipped behind the bar counter once more, “now, what have you brought me this time?”

Wang Jiexi immediately turned his attention back to the owner of Misty Rain, took out a piece of paper, opened the cardboard box, and began to go over the products Chu Yunxiu had ordered: various dried and powdered herbs and flowers, fresh floral petals kept moist in special containers, artisanal syrups and extracts refined from rare plants and flowers with remarkable magical properties when combined correctly with other ingredients.

Chu Yunxiu was happy with the quality of the products that Wang Jiexi had brought over, and asked invitingly, “A drink on the house?”

“Thanks, but I’m driving tonight,” Wang Jiexi declined politely, and then his gaze shifted over to the man who hadn’t moved from his position in the last twenty minutes since he and Chu Yunxiu had started talking.

“Is… Is that man all right?” Wang Jiexi asked the bartender.

“Oh, Ye Xiu? Eh, he’s fine. He’s the kind of guy who falls asleep after just one glass. Pathetic, right?” Chu Yunxiu said, seemingly unconcerned, but then the teasing light in her eyes softened like she couldn’t quite help herself and said in a softer voice so that only Wang Jiexi could hear her, “he’d had a long day though. Well, from what I understand, I guess the last couple of months had been hard on him.”

Wang Jiexi didn’t ask for an explanation; after all, this man — Ye Xiu, was it? — was just a stranger. A man whom he hadn’t even exchange a word with. Yet seeing him in this dimmed lighting, with muffled conversations humming all around them, sinking and floating within it but entirely excluded from it, and soft music playing in the background, Wang Jiexi almost thought the man looked vulnerable.  

“Will he be okay getting home by himself?” Wang Jiexi asked anyway, despite telling himself that he shouldn’t stick his nose where it didn’t belong. That voice in his head sounded very weak and unconvincing at this moment, and Wang Jiexi easily pushed it aside.

“I was about to call him a taxi when he sobers up,” Chu Yunxiu sighed, “but with this guy, I have no idea how long it’ll take for him to wake up. The cocktail I made him earlier was kind of strong.”

The tea sommelier glanced over at Ye Xiu’s sleeping face again, the steady, steady beat of his heart trembling just the slightest at the man’s parted lips, the limp, lifeless forelocks falling haphazardly into his eyes, the slow rise and fall of his back, and he found himself speaking, “if you have his address, I can take him home.”

“You don’t mind?” Chu Yunxiu was surprised that he even offered. While they had been acquainted with each other for about two years from their business dealings, their relationship remained just as such — that of business partners. Wang Jiexi was a trustworthy man when it came to his work, this Chu Yunxiu had no doubt, but she had never known him as someone who would voluntarily help out a stranger in their time of need. Clearly, there was more to Wang Jiexi than the distant and aloof persona that the tea sommelier and witch usually presented himself.

“He looks like he can use a better place to sleep in,” Wang Jiexi said, mildly amused.

“If you really don’t mind, I’ll take you up on your offer,” Chu Yunxiu scribbled down Ye Xiu’s address on a notepad and tore off the first page, handing it over to Wang Jiexi. “I feel better leaving him in the hands of someone I know. Oh, and next time, you’re not allowed to decline a drink, okay? It’s on me.”

“For sure, Ms. Chu,” Wang Jiexi nodded with a smile, and entered the address into his phone’s GPS, which quickly displayed the fastest route to Ye Xiu’s address.

“Oi, Ye Xiu,” Chu Yunxiu called her friend, attempting to wake him up, but Ye Xiu only responded with a nasally groan. “Ye Xiu, wake up, you’re going home.” She lightly tapped Ye Xiu on the cheek, which seemed to have finally done the trick, as he blearily blinked open his eyes, dazed and unseeing.  

“Wha— Yer taking me home, Lao Chu? Dun y’have, like, a bar to run?” his words were slurred but at least he was making sense.

“Yeah, yeah, I do. That’s why I’m kicking you out and letting this gentleman take you home instead,” Chu Yunxiu helped him up by hauling him to his feet with care while Wang Jiexi slipped to the drunken man’s side to support him on the left.

“Oh? And who’s this nice gentleman that you speak of?” Ye Xiu chuckled, his voice hoarse from the alcohol as he turned around to face the stranger, his eyes twinkling with humor and harboring an eerily clear perception for someone who was supposed to be so drunk he could hardly stand on his own two feet without help.

“Wang Jiexi,” he briskly introduced himself, sliding Ye Xiu’s arm around his own shoulders so that he could support the drunken man more securely. “Ms. Chu’s business acquaintance.”

“Huh…” Ye Xiu made a noise as if he was deep in thought, but less than five seconds later, Wang Jiexi could feel Ye Xiu’s body gradually leaning more and more against his frame, and ‘lo and behold, the man had somehow miraculously fell back asleep standing up. Having a few centimeters of height advantage over Ye Xiu, Wang Jiexi could at least half-haul and half-carry him all the way to the parking lot; getting him into the car required a bit of semi-aggressive shoving into the backseat, but in the end, Wang Jiexi managed to safely drive themselves to where Ye Xiu supposedly lived.

“Mr. Ye, your keys?” It took a few more calls of his name and some shaking on the shoulders to get Ye Xiu conscious enough to answer.

“Hmm? W’keys?” he mumbled incoherently, eyes blinking like something kept trying to keep them shut.

“Your house keys,” Wang Jiexi said patiently, leaning over to unbuckle the seatbelt. He caught a waft of sweet floral scent just as Ye Xiu was exhaling, and he almost bumped his head on the roof of the car in his haste to pull away from the man — it was too sweet, his breath, too vulnerable the way he allowed a stranger to get this close, and all of this was much too tempting.

Clueless as to what a storm he was causing to a man he’d hardly talked to, Ye Xiu’s eyes slipped close, and Wang Jiexi was afraid that he’d fallen asleep again, but then Ye Xiu made a long humming sound, like he was having a good, long moment of serious thought, before he blurted out bright and clear, “I don’t have ‘em.”

“You don’t… You don’t have your keys,” Wang Jiexi could feel the vein in his temple bulging in irritation. He really should have just shut up and stayed in his lane, he thought to himself with an internal sigh.

“Nope,” Ye Xiu confirmed, and then he slumped backwards, head lolled forward, to continue his alcohol-induced slumber.

“Great,” Wang Jiexi murmured, running a hand through his hair. He could bring him back to Misty Rain, but he didn’t want to trouble Chu Yunxiu, who looked hectic serving patrons by the time they were leaving; he could bring Ye Xiu to a hotel, but that required too much explanation afterwards. In the end, he decided to bring him back to his teashop.

Ye Xiu remained sound asleep during the drive to Tiny Herb Teahouse, and even through the bodily shuffling out of the vehicle, being piggybacked into the darkened shop, and being planted onto the plush armchair in Wang Jiexi’s consultation room, the drunken man managed to stay unconscious, his breathing maintaining a peaceful, steady rhythm, dark lashes casting darker shadows on his cheeks.

After draping a blanket over the sleeping man, Wang Jiexi stepped out of the room to let him rest.

Yet his heart remained restless. It wasn’t merely because he had brought a strange man into his shop; he could easily have left the man alone back at the lounge, pretended he didn’t see him — his defenseless sleeping body, the fatigue that lined his face, the desolation and melancholy that seeped out of his hunched back and silently yearned for someone to take notice, to give him a hand, to care.

Curiosity, in the end, won out.

From the cupboard under the counter, lighted up only by a few dangling lights that glowed an eerie white over light-colored wooden furnishing and peculiar shadows of potted plants, their vines and leaves crawling and hugging along the beams of the high ceiling, Wang Jiexi carefully took out a teapot, a glass jar of loose Pu’er tea leaves, a saucer, and a white, porcelain teacup.

While he waited for the water to boil, he spooned out some tea leaves and tipped them into the cup. During this process, he tried to maintain the same peace of mind that he always preserved when he was doing divination for his clients; it was his natural state of mind — the ease with which he saw the highs and lows around him and his heart would never waver in fear or shake in excitement, the instinctive ability with which he could read people just as easily as he could read the past, present, and future of these people through the patterns and images in his cup. That was one of the main reasons why he was so good at this particular branch of sorcery that he’d decided to pursue it as a career.

And now, he had to use a little more than his usual effort and self-control to keep his mind serene and focused.

As he poured hot water over the tea leaves, the steam blurring his vision and moistening his skin, the tips of his forelocks, he watched as the colour of the liquid turned quickly from clear to a creamy brown until the cup was entirely tainted into a rich, scorched shade when the brew was ready to be consumed.

It was almost too easy to let his mind remain occupied on the subject of his divination session, as if he could forget the haunting scent of the ashen smoke and saccharine lavender on Ye Xiu’s breath or the weight and warmth of the man’s body leaning solidly against his own.

When he felt ready, he began drinking his tea one small mouthful at a time. The liquid went down his throat burning that he barely tasted it with the first, hurried sip, but the earthy, woodsy aroma that coated his mouth was a little overwhelming, verging on bitingly bitter, and Wang Jiexi vaguely wondered if he’d steeped the leaves for too long. The notes of tobacco were reminiscent of Ye Xiu, and he closed his eyes, thinking about the man sleeping only a few feet away, unaware of the storm that he had already stirred up during such a brief encounter.

With only a little liquid left, Wang Jiexi swirled the cup three times, causing the tea leaves to disperse around the wide interior of the teacup. Next, he delicately placed the saucer over the cup and flipped it over to drain away the remaining moisture.

The patterns left in the cup made Wang Jiexi frown, his lips tightening into a grim line. All the images that symbolized Ye Xiu’s present circumstances were those of negative connotation, which adequately explained why the man had sought the help of alcohol, and if what Chu Yunxiu told him was true, it sounded like whatever had happened left a strong emotional impact that might have been irreparable if not for what Wang Jiexi saw along the rim of the cup, which represented events in distant future.

Sighing lightly, he set the cup aside and placed the saucer over it once more.

-

Ye Xiu woke up to an amazing, pounding headache and the warm aroma of leafy tea and fresh citrus.

“Mr. Ye, how are you feeling?” a man’s voice, soft but melodic, asked from somewhere to his right.

“Hnnnnn…” was Ye Xiu’s intelligible answer, and then he declared with a pitiful moan, “I’m never drinking again… fuck.”

“Perhaps that would be for the best,” the stranger agreed, a hint of laughter subtle but still noticeable.

Despite his headache, Ye Xiu finally opened his eyes with some difficulty; his bones and joints ached from remaining in the same position throughout the entire night, and he could feel his body creaking in protest as he tried to sit up, the blanket that’d been draped over him slipping down to his lap. His gaze sluggishly followed the trail of the blanket, and then he gradually lifted his head up and glanced over to his right side, where a man with vibrant green eyes, the left hidden behind stylishly-cut forelocks, holding a steaming teacup was standing and looking at him in silent amusement.

“And you are… wait don’t tell me,” Ye Xiu interrupted him just as he saw the man opening his mouth. “You’re Old Chu’s acquaintance, right? You told me your name last night, I remember. Wang… Jiexi, wasn’t it?”

“You weren’t as drunk as I thought then,” Wang Jiexi sounded impressed, if not for his dry, sarcastic tone.

Ye Xiu could appreciate that, really.

He looked around and seemed to have realized that he was in an unfamiliar room. “Where are we?”

“Tiny Herb Teahouse,” Wang Jiexi replied, “this is my consultation room.”

Ye Xiu gave a low whistle.

“So what — you brew your fancy tea in here and…” Ye Xiu quickly observed the titles of the books in the shelf across from where he was sitting and the unlabeled cabinet beside it, “…read?”

“I brew specialty teas,” Wang Jiexi said.

“’Specialty’ meaning?” Ye Xiu cocked an eyebrow up in question.

This man sure was annoyingly curious and obnoxious when he was sober, Wang Jiexi thought.

“I brew teas that contain magical properties, and I do tasseomancy per clients’ requests,” Wang Jiexi sighed and decided it was best they had this conversation while he was at least sitting down comfortably.

“Tasseomancy?” Ye Xiu entirely skipped past the part where Wang Jiexi mentioned that he made magical teas for a living.

“…I read tea leaves and predict the future,” Wang Jiexi paused for a good two seconds before he gave up and explained. He expected laughter, teasing, insults, or any of the above combination. Even though sorcery had become more commonplace, some people were still very adamant in their beliefs — or doubts, rather — about some branches of magic, especially divination-related ones. Tesseomancy was one of them.

He waited and waited, but nothing came. When Wang Jiexi glanced up from the steaming cup of tea in his hand, he only saw an engrossed gleam in Ye Xiu’s eyes.

“Can you predict my future?” Ye Xiu asked, half genuinely interested, and half wanting to see the reaction this would ignite in Wang Jiexi.

“I already did,” Wang Jiexi said, and then instantly clamped his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to let Ye Xiu knew that; after all, reading a person’s past, present, and future was a personal affair, and Wang Jiexi, if nothing else, was a professional.

“Yeah?” Ye Xiu leaned forward, curiosity obviously piqued now and previous traces of hangover gradually disappearing from the distraction, “and what do the tealeaves say?”

Wang Jiexi swallowed, his eyes unable to tear away from the intensity in Ye Xiu’s stare, but his throat was too tight as he recalled what he saw in the teacup last night.

The tea sommelier placed the cup and saucer onto the table sitting between them a little too hard, the liquid inside sloshing and spilling a few drops, and pushed it towards Ye Xiu.

This gesture seemed to have taken Ye Xiu aback.

“For me?”

Wang Jiexi nodded.

“I’m not a big fan of tea though,” Ye Xiu chuckled, but he pulled the saucer towards himself anyway, fingers wrapping around the cup to enjoy its soothing warmth, elegant index finger curling around the handle to lift it up and take a sniff.

“It’s matcha mixed with dandelion root, nettle leaf, turmeric, and lemon juice,” Wang Jiexi said patiently, “it’ll get rid of your headache and rehydrate your body.”

“Say no more,” Ye Xiu took an experimental sip because as fascinating as this topic was to him, the dull pounding in his head was a nuisance and he’d really like for it to go away as quickly as possible. And honestly, he actually liked what he’d tasted, and so he continued to drink from the cup with a small smile hidden behind the rim of the cup.

“Disharmony. Argument. Betrayal. Disappointment,” Wang Jiexi listed as he watched Ye Xiu took careful sips of the tea that he’d brewed for him, “that was what I’d seen last night. That was what caused you to end up at Misty Rain, wasn’t it? But I didn’t see anger, hatred, or vengeance, which are usually related to the aforementioned events and emotions during these kinds of readings.”

“Either Lao Chu had told you something, or you really are very good at this tealeaf reading business,” Ye Xiu said with a charming smile, one that was disarming but equally deceptive, and placed the empty cup back into the saucer.

The tea was soothing and rejuvenating — the slight bitterness of the caffeine and fragrance in the powdered green tea had woken him up, and the hint of tart lemon left a clean, refreshing taste in his mouth.

“I rarely misread,” Wang Jiexi only said.

“You know, all of this had been a very peculiar experience: just when you think you know someone so well — like they’re part of your family, and you trust them as much as they trust you — they think nothing of it and stab you in the back. So of course, I’d felt betrayed, of course I’d been disappointed, but the funny thing was, I’d been expecting this to happen for a long while now. There had been signs all along: we were striving for the same thing when we started out with nothing, and before we knew it, we were on very different paths and we were too stubborn to compromise.

“I thought I’d be angrier, and I thought about taking revenge because believe it or not, I do have the patience and ability to stir shit up if I want to, but rather than wasting time wallowing in the past and letting it tie me down, wouldn’t it be more productive to consider this as a new beginning instead?” Ye Xiu said all of this in a very mild, serene tone, as if he was narrating somebody else’s misfortunes and not his own.

“You’re actually quite an optimistic man, aren’t you?” Wang Jiexi asked. Not that he was expecting a serious answer.

“Oh, hardly,” Ye Xiu laughed, an unrestrained, desolate sound that belied a more somber sentiment, “I have some savings but if I don’t find employment soon, I’ll be in trouble.”

“Is that so.”

“Hey, Wang Jiexi,” Ye Xiu suddenly leaned forward again, which made the tea sommelier a little nervous as he unconsciously pushed his body back against his armchair.

“Yes?”

“Is there a silver lining in my future?”

Wang Jiexi blinked, not expecting this question at all.  

Despite the ominous images floating at the bottom of the teacup, the ark rode on the horizon.

“A new influence will help you find refuge in your time of distress,” Wang Jiexi said softly, lowering his head for a brief moment so that it was impossible for Ye Xiu to read anything from the man’s eyes or facial expressions. The tea sommelier retrieved the empty cup and saucer from the table and stood up as he got ready to leave his guest to rest some more.

“You mentioned that you don’t have your house keys with you,” Wang Jiexi said, pausing at the doorway though his back was still facing towards Ye Xiu, “you should get that figured out. Maybe get a locksmith or something—"

“I lied.”

“Excuse me?”

“I wanted to stay with you a little longer,” Ye Xiu said in that same frustratingly composed voice as if nothing was wrong about his questionable action last night, “I wanted to talk to you more, when I’m less inebriated, y’know, so I lied about not having my keys.”

“Ye Xiu, you…” Wang Jiexi finally turned around, hands trembling, and the cold fury in his eyes could pierce through iron walls, but somehow, the anger was already simmering down into flickers of something else entirely.

As if he thought the situation wasn’t dire enough, Ye Xiu decided to throw gasoline into the fire he’d started by pulling out a set of tinkling keys from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and dangling them on his index finger like a bait, his lips twisted upwards into a mischievous smirk.

“Wang Jiexi, will you be the new influence that help me find refuge?”

How to spot reposts

I get that not everybody can tell whether something is a repost, and that’s fine. So, here’s a handy little guide to clue you in before you decide to reblog something, and have it end up on the original creator’s dash and subsequently bring a tear to their eye. If you don’t care at all – keep scrolling. Don’t bother asking me about it. I’m tired of seeing my shit stolen.

Do the gifs all have the same style?

The majority of repost sets will be gifs pilfered from all over the place. Pinterest, twitter, what-have-you. ThEy fOunD thEM oN gOogLe etc etc. Does the set you’re about to reblog have a mish-mash of black and white gifs along with full colour? Click on the gifs – are they all the same size? No? Are they laid out in a bizarre manner? Probably a repost. 

Is it just a single gif with some banal statement underneath it? 

A lot of reposters simply can’t help but express their admiration for a celebrity, and the only way they can truly achieve that is to repost a single gif that thEY fOuND oN GoOgLE with some sort of statement similar to “he’s so cute i could die *insert adorable emoji here*” etc etc. Probably a repost.

How have they tagged? 

This one is usually a dead giveaway. Established gifmakers know how to tag. They put the important shit in the first five tags, and the set is usually tagged with an edit tag, too. In the case of Gotham, this tag is #gothamedit. They’ll also usually tag with #mine, #my gifs, etc. Reposters do not know how to tag. You’ll perhaps get a character name, a show name, and then a bunch of tag bait such as #creepy, #funny, #cute, etc etc. They very rarely tag with #mine, etc, thankfully – unless they’ve gone to great lengths to slap some ugly-ass text over it or they’ve managed to *gasp* crop it into a different size all by themselves, but, that’s a whole ‘nother issue.

What’s their blog like?

Generally, reposters repost All. The. Fucking. Time. Their entire blog will be reposts. They’re also usually rocking a default theme. Are the styles all similar? Bet not. See above.

Don't f*ck with IT, we run the world.

long story. tl:dr at the end.

All names and locations changed. About 10 years ago, on Neptune, I was working in my first software development job out of university. We made websites, promotional material, and supplied equipment for conferences and trade shows. So if a company wanted a booth at some event, we would produce everything and support them for the duration of the event. This is where I came across Maleficent. She was in charge of the marketing department of a company on nearby Pluto, and they hired us for a convention they were attending. I produced the website for them, which consisted of some pictures/videos of their latest product with a few paragraphs of text. Also some links to their social media, a sign up form etc., pretty basic stuff. It's important to note here that I never met Maleficent in person during this time, just talked to her once on the phone, the rest via email. She mainly dealt with our project manager, a lovely woman called Credenza, who made sure all the different parts worked together.

Part 1: The f*ck up.

Everything was going fine, I'd produced their website and was just waiting for Maleficent to send some images and videos of their product to replace the placeholders I had been using in the meantime. This was a Tuesday, the event was the following Monday. I emailed Maleficent asking when I could expect the files and got no reply. Still no reply Wednesday, so Thursday I asked Credenza to chase it up. She stopped by my desk a short after, a bit flustered. She'd just spoken to Maleficent, who had angrily claimed that she had sent them the previous week and had emailed me - she blamed Credenza and me for being incompetent. I could find it nowhere in my inbox/junk folder, so as far as I was concerned she was lying or had sent it to the wrong email. Credenza contacted her again, confirmed my email address, and asked her to send them again. She shouted at Credenza some more but eventually sent the files, but not until the last moment on Friday afternoon as I was getting ready to leave for the weekend. B*tch. I had to run that evening, but I promised Credenza I would log on Saturday morning and copy the files to the website and everything would be ready for Monday. Saturday morning and the video files didn't work. I don't remember the details exactly, but the files were made using some kind of proprietary codec that I just couldn't convert to something usable on their website. Long story, marginally less long, I spent Saturday praying to gods I didn't believe in for a miracle that wouldn't happen while trying to get in contact with Maleficent. Eventually on Sunday she replied back and I slowly walked her through the process of using another video format - she was using some crappy pirated software I'd never heard of to produce the videos. When she finally sent it, it still was wrong, but at least it was in a format I could read and convert myself. It all worked out in the end, the website was ready by Sunday evening and the convention went well.

Part 2: Trying to get me fired.

Following the convention, Maleficent was furious. She again accused us of incompetence and me personally for f*cking up her weekend (what about my weekend?!). I fired back at what a pain in the ass Maleficent had been (the guys who met her at the event said she was no easier in person) and how I'd done everything I could, but Maleficent denied everything and questioned how I was still in a job. This made Credenza look bad and her and her bosses (none of them tech savvy) didn't understand what I was talking about with 'wrong codecs' and file formats - it probably sounded like I was just trying to cover my ass after the fact. Plus, when it comes to money, the customer is always right. So it ended up becoming a sort of "let's just agree that we all made mistakes" thing, but it was clear that all fingers were pointing at me. Consequently I didn't get a pay rise I had been in line to get (meaning I couldn't move out from my parents’ house, which was killing me) and was put on probation for 6 months, though I left for another job on Vulcan after 2.

Part 3: Revenge is dish best served with béarnaise sauce and Sauvignon blanc.

About 6 Earth years later, I joined a company that sold women’s boots, all shapes, colours (that's how we spell it on Vulcan) and sizes. They had their own IT department that produced their websites and other internal systems. Little did I know that Maleficent had also moved to this company at some point, again in the marketing department, which was downstairs from me. There was a promotional event soon where our company was giving away goody bags with some freebies to anyone who signed up. The bags themselves were some high quality laminated things that were being specially printed up with our company's branding, plus a QR code. The QR code would take you to a special page on our website with discounts. I met with Maleficent (who clearly didn't remember me from before) and talked about the special page I was to produce for the website. She was a pain in the ass again. She was never available (she would take an hour and half lunch every day, and reclaim it on expenses) and when I did meet with her, she changed the requirements constantly, "Can you just change that bit? Never mind, put it back. Oh, actually could you put this shitty animation at the top of the page, no that's a terrible idea, why would you suggest that?" etc. Also, sitting with her, I witnessed how belittling she was to everyone in her team and would gossip about anybody if they weren't there at that moment. Obviously all the while remembering our previous encounter where she had all but got me fired. I thought about calling her out on this, but it would have achieved nothing and I had only just started working at this company a few weeks ago, I didn't want to make waves. So, I persevered and eventually my web page was done and I gave her the URL to send to the bag makers for printing the QR code. But she screwed up. I was copied into an email chain with her sending off the URL to the bag makers and she had done it wrong. The URL was something like "http://www.ourwebsite/offer" but she had sent "htttp://" instead. I double checked what I had sent her and mine was correct, she had obviously typed it out rather than using copy/paste. We were ordering 1000 of these bags from the printers and they were £1.15 each (I mean, 1.15 space credits). Then I noticed way down in the email chain, she had copied her password for the bag website: it was "password" - yes, these oxygen thieves exist by the millions. I logged in with her details (from outside work, with a proxy, just in case) and could see she had indeed ordered 1000 of the bags with the wrong URL for the QR code. I quickly added an extra zero to the quantity and also pushed the requested delivery date back to a day before they were needed. I wanted to change the URL to some porn website, but that wouldn’t match what she had sent in the email, and I wanted her to be unable to escape blame.

Part 4: The aftermath.

Honestly, I thought nothing would actually happen. I assumed the bag company would spot the URL mistake and just fix it. I assumed someone would notice the tenfold quantity increase and delivery date change. But as they say, when you make an assumption you make ass out of you and umption, because none of these things happened. The bags arrived at the last minute and the URL didn't work. Maleficent stormed upstairs and asked why our team had f*cked up and demanding we put it right. I acted innocent, did some trouble shooting, and explained to her the URL had an extra 'T' in it. "Fine, change the URL on our website" - nope, the "http" bit is out of our control I'm afraid, it must be the bag company's fault. But wait, what's this? Your email to them with the wrong URL? This doesn't look good for you. Meanwhile someone comes up stairs and asks "Weren't we only getting 1000 bags? There seems to be a lot more..." Maleficent rushed downstairs to sort out this fresh hell that was rising around her as a warm glow welled up from inside me. I actually never saw her again, I had to travel to one of our other offices that afternoon, but a friend filled me in later. With not enough time to sort things out with the bag company, Malificent had to rush around town to find a stationary store that could print 10000 QR codes on sticky labels to stick over the wrong one on each bag. Apparently she was there most of the night attaching them all, which was doubly funny as I'm told we didn't quite manage to give away the original 1000 bags at the event the following day anyway, let alone the other 9000. She was put on 'gardening leave' and fired for gross incompetence and costing the company all the extra money - now the marketing department is run by a guy called Theodopolopodous - he's much nicer.

tl;dr Evil marketing queen doesn't keep track of who she f*cks over, got her fired several years later when we ended up at the same company.

(source) (story by ImperiousChipmunk)

Kowalski’s #5 ~ moar holiday edition

Gradence bakery/coffeeshop AU ~ on AO3 / Read from the beginning

Original!Percival Graves/Credence Barebone Teen & up Fluff, awkward flirting, slow burn, first date, holidays

Fic Summary: Where Credence finds solace in baking and a slightly-washed-up Percy finds solace in Credence.

Chapter Summary: First date in a craft store and car trouble.

Millions of thanks to @pangaeastarseed :) And happy holidays everyone!

*

Credence was waiting outside on the steps when Percy pulled up. He looked half-frozen but was clasping a flask of something hot and steaming.

Percy popped the passenger door open. “I’m not late, am I?”

Credence gathered his bag and his flask and scrambled in. The door banged shut against the cold.

“No, not at all,” he said. “I prefer waiting outside, watching people go by. And our buzzer doesn’t work that well.”

So that was why, Percy thought. Worried he might miss Percy - needlessly so, as now, secreted carefully in Percy’s phone, were all ten precious digits of Credence’s number. Hopefully that meant he hadn’t spent the whole morning wondering who on earth took someone to Kraft-Mart for a first date, like Percy had.

“I brought coffee,” Credence said. “And also doughnuts.”

Percy laughed. “You brought the bakery with you?” He opened the cup holder so Credence could set the flask down - it got stuck sometimes and needed a sharp tug.

“It’s cold,” Credence said. “And Queenie said traffic might be bad.”

“Traffic is always bad,” said Percy. “There’s no escaping it in this town - unless you want to leave at 3am.”

But the traffic wasn’t that bad, after all - and the coffee was very good indeed. Once they’d made it out of the city, it only took another forty-five minutes on the Interstate.

Credence was a very quiet passenger but not the sort which needed constant attention. He seemed perfectly happy to gaze out of the window while he ate his doughnut, and took excruciating care not to douse the car in sugar. The car definitely wasn’t worth the effort, thought Percy. But perhaps it was more than simple politeness - perhaps Credence either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care what a heap of shit he drove nowadays.

It was surprisingly comfortable, and by the time they arrived, found a parking spot, and crossed the enormous lot, it didn’t seem at all strange to be walking around a craft superstore together. In fact, it’s very unlikeliness in the eyes of others made it into a kind of shared adventure.

“That woman keeps staring at me,” said Percy. “I think she thinks we’re lost. Or up to something nefarious. Quick, look interested in these candles before she comes over and quizzes us about Martha Stewart.”

Credence smiled. “The baking section is all the way at the back,” he said. “Once we get there she can quiz us as much as she likes.”

After far too many aisles of holiday-themed crafts - the glitter and foil in red, green, and gold looked appallingly aggressive when encountered all together - signs of hope appeared. Rows and rows of huge pastel bowls and spatulas and moulds skimmed by until Credence found what he was looking for.

There the shelves were cluttered with tiny tools and he spent an age examining piping nozzles and cutters which all looked exactly the same to Percy. On the top shelf was a boxed decorating set - for $300, Percy noted with disbelief. Credence took it down, studied its contents critically, then replaced it.

Percy was conscious of a dull sense of regret - once upon a time, not that long ago, he could’ve whipped out his wallet and bought it for him without batting an eye. Even if Credence would never accept a gift like that, it was still nice to think he could have offered.

He stood uselessly by, waiting, and tried to convince himself that technically he still could - even if it wasn’t a sensible thing to do in his current circumstances.

Credence hadn’t finished, though - the next aisle over was entirely stocked with food colouring pastes and gels. He lingered over these particularly, and took a long time choosing between a sky-blue and a turquoise. The turquoise won out, and after that he seemed ready to leave.

Percy dragged his thoughts from the meagre contents of Credence’s basket and his impotent desire to fill it to the brim, and instead made himself look forward to lunch. There weren’t many places nearby - certainly nowhere fancy - but at least taking Credence out would be something.

“Is there anything else you want to look at?” Percy asked, before they reached the checkout. “While we’re here, you might as well.”

They were just passing through yet another holiday section - the aisles opened out suddenly into a mass of differently-themed Christmas trees. In fake-rustic buckets around them were the baubles, tinsel, and lights which went with each theme.

Credence paused. “Maybe the decorations?” he said. He gravitated towards a sugary pastel-coloured one, and stared at it like it was forbidden fruit. “We never had any when I was growing up.”

Percy absorbed this quietly; of course he’d noticed the menorah in the bakery window but, even for Credence, this seemed a strangely guarded comment.

“I could get some fairy lights,” Credence said, mostly to himself. “For my room.”

“Well, why not?” Percy encouraged. “There’s no law against it, is there?”

Credence nodded rather seriously, and a packet of candy-coloured lights joined the other items in his basket.

After Credence had paid, they trudged back across the lot to Percy’s car. There had been a light fall of snow - not enough to worry about but it was slippery underfoot.

Percy locked Credence’s purchases safely in the trunk. “There’s a place not far from here we could go to eat,” he said. “Haven’t been myself but the reviews were good. Want to try it?”

“That sounds nice,” said Credence. He had a way of glowing quietly with pleasure without actually smiling, and Percy felt his self-esteem buck up a notch.

The car was freezing inside; Percy hurried to get it started but the cold seemed to have got to the engine. It spluttered out, though that wasn’t unusual. When he tried again, the same thing happened. It was only after the third failed attempt that Percy felt uneasy.

By the sixth, he was beginning to get mad. By the tenth, he was outright angry. And by the twentieth, he gave up in utter rage.

He had climbed out and wrenched open the hood before he realised doing so would achieve precisely nothing. He didn’t know anything about engines - he’d never had to learn, not when he’d had a brand-new car every year and a goddamned driver as well.

“You fucking piece of shit,” he said, hopefully in the general direction of whatever it was which had gone wrong. Then he slammed the hood shut again, hard enough to make the whole car judder.

Through the dusting of snow on the windshield Credence’s face was discernibly pale and drawn.

Percy turned his back, sat heavily on the hood, and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t be this angry if he’d been on his own. It was so unfair; why couldn’t he be allowed to keep up the pretence, just a little longer?

He pulled out his phone: a tow truck it would have to be. The woman who answered his call was disconcertingly, if falsely, sympathetic. In the background the general hum of dozens, maybe hundreds, of similar calls could dimly be heard. Percy imagined a throng of helpless middle-aged men, many with impatient wives and children in the back seat. It did not improve his mood.

When he hung up, he remembered Credence was still behind him, waiting. Probably staring at his knees, hunched and tense, rather than watching Percy make a spectacle of himself.

He stood, and went to open the passenger door.

“We’d better find somewhere to wait,” he said. “Could be a couple of hours before someone can get here.” On the other side of the lot were a few smaller stores - among them, hopefully, a place to eat. “There’s a diner over there - come on, let’s go.”

Once the car was locked he strode off toward it, leaving Credence to follow. His quiet glow of pleasure had vanished, and just then Percy didn’t think he could stand the reminder of its loss.

But, if anything, he felt worse over lunch. The food was fine but there were none of the other things he’d pictured - no cosy booth, no gentle flirtation, no shared smiles or laughter. Their table was stuck in the middle of the room, and every two minutes a server swept past them with bowls of curly fries or trays rattling with drinks. Credence focused entirely on his plate and didn’t attempt conversation. Percy couldn’t dredge up anything to say, either.

It seemed he’d done all the damage it was possible to do already - losing his temper and making an ass of himself. Then he’d grimly ordered lunch like spending time with Credence was something to be endured. No wonder he was silent and withdrawn. He’d had a better time serving Percy coffee.

That was the thought which did it - the one which managed to break through Percy’s admittedly ridiculous self-pity.

He threw his paper napkin onto his half-full plate and put his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then he took a deep breath and looked at Credence. “The car breaking down wasn’t great, but everything else was totally unnecessary. I’m sorry for being an asshole and spoiling your day.”

Credence looked up in surprise. Percy watched his face grow rather serious and intent and hurriedly kept talking.

“My temper didn’t used to this bad - or at least I don’t think it did - but there seems a lot to be angry about at the moment. That piece-of-shit car is only the tip of the iceberg.”

He realised he��d started to shred his napkin into little pieces. He dropped it again, and resisted the urge to fold his arms across his chest. It would only make him look sulky. Or threatening.

“I know I’m not showing myself in a very good light here,” he said. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to take this outside the bakery again.”

Credence’s watchful gaze continued on for a few moments. Then, without a word, he got up and went to the counter.

Percy stared after him. Could he be leaving? He saw Credence lean over to speak to someone, but couldn’t tell what he said. He seemed to be pointing at something and then waved over towards their table. Was he asking for the check?

But, no - he turned and came back. Relief flooded Percy; relief and more confusion. Credence had two plates of pie, and a server followed him with two mugs.

He took his seat; silence reigned once more while their unfinished burgers were cleared away.

Once the server had left, Credence pushed a plate and a mug towards Percy. “They’re for you,” he said. He picked up his own fork and took a bite of a pie.

More silence followed. Credence ate slowly and thoughtfully. Percy examined his own plate, wondering if he’d missed something obvious.

“Queenie told me something once,” Credence said, suddenly. “She said even when everything feels like shit - and might actually have gone to shit, who knows? - we can always do something about the moment we’re in. To make it a bit better.”

Even if he’d orchestrated all that to get his full and complete attention, Percy thought, he couldn’t have done a better job.

“Right now, it’s cold outside,” Credence continued, “and we’re somewhere warm, with something good to eat and someone to talk to, and- And even if it doesn’t feel like much, it’s something little to enjoy, while we can.”

Percy was astonished. “Queenie told you that?” he said, hoping he might learn when and why.

“Queenie has a way of just knowing things,” Credence said. “She's real smart but not many people notice.” He stopped and frowned at Percy’s untouched plate. “Try some, it’s good.”

Percy stared at him for a full minute before he too started to eat.

“Are you trying to induct me into the pleasures of comfort eating?” he asked, feeling a little more like his old self.

“Do you feel comforted?” said Credence.

Percy struggled with that for a while before he answered. “Not because of the pie.”

Credence smiled cryptically. “It’s never because of the pie.”

When they eventually pulled up outside Credence’s building again, they were only an hour late. The tow truck had arrived sooner than expected; all the car needed was a jumpstart. By then Percy had been able to bear the ignominy with something closer to humour. Maybe it really was funny, just a little bit.

He killed the engine. They both looked out, to where Percy guessed Credence’s apartment must be. Neither of them moved. A curtain twitched and a face appeared at one of the windows. On the sill below it twinkled an LED menorah.

Credence waved up to the peering face and twisted to get his bag from the back seat.

“I guess I should have wished you a happy Hanukkah,” Percy said, and turned to Credence with a smile.

“Oh,” he said, tucking the empty flask safely into his bag. “Because of Jacob and Queenie? And Tina?”

“Yeah,” said Percy. “I thought you might be related or something… Who’s Tina?”

“Queenie’s sister. I live with her.” Credence pointed up toward the window. “I think you saw her once in the bakery.”

“Right,” Percy said, thinking hard. “So you’re not Jewish?”

“No,” said Credence. Instead of getting out of the car, he sat back in his seat again. “I don’t really know what I am now,” he said, after a moment.

“Can I ask…?” Percy began. He got the feeling this conversation ran deep. “Why all the hesitation about the decorations?”

Credence shrugged. “My mother didn’t approve of the commercialisation of Christmas - she said it was the dilution of God’s message.”

“Wow,” Percy said. “God’s message, huh?”

“Exactly,” Credence said. “No decorations, no presents... nothing but church. And you don’t even know what she would’ve said about me living with Tina and going on a date with you.”

“Sorry it wasn’t a better one,” Percy said, feeling doubly guilty.

Credence gave him a sidelong glance and smiled. “I thought it was pretty good, actually,” he said, and went a lovely shade of pink.

Percy still thought he’d failed somehow but the assurance was nice. He swung open his door open, and went round get Credence’s. At least he could end their date on a note of gallantry.

That seemed to lead straight to them both hovering on Credence’s doorstep. Credence wore a touchingly open expression; one very earnest and a little lost. His gaze wavered uncertainly across Percy’s face, particularly around his mouth.

Percy resolved to make it up to him, next time. He leaned in to kiss his cheek, making sure to linger longer than necessary; it wouldn’t do for Credence to doubt his interest.

“I thought it was pretty good too,” he said. “Merry Christmas, Credence.”

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Mass Effect Origins

For the sake of convenience, this game would have to be set in and around the First Contact War

Human Origin

Both:

Male or Female Options

never ending pop culture references to things like Alien, Predator, and E.T. 

Largely incapable of understanding somethign an alien tells them about themselves without trying to say ‘oh like The Force’ or ‘like a chestburster??’

They will both embarrass their species, you'd need a step by step walkthrough to not be embarrassing and it's an Achievement to do so

If you succeed in never saying anything weird or embarrassing, at the end of the game when you go on stage to receive your medal you will trip and fall on your ass in front of everyone. 

Military Human:

Was clearly not expecting to meet aliens out in space, they were sort of glorified babysitters, meant to keep order in case of an emergency.

Is significantly more suspicious of aliens, even after they meet nice ones.

Often comments that they consider themselves an astronaut, rather than a 'traditional’ military force

the Serious Voice

Only short haircuts available, only buff bodies

Engineer Human:

Was only out here to work on the relay and bring information back to earth.

Has always wanted to go to space, and was only brought up for tech abilities (yes you are trapped as a tech user)

Will make references to xenomorphs and generally always have the option to ask invasive, rude questions.

Is excited to meet aliens, even if they are scared, they've always been crossing their fingers to find evidence of extraterrestrials.

The Young Voice

Wider variety of haircuts and colours, bodytype is chubby or thin, you are stuck with glasses no matter what

Turian Origin:

Both:

Male and Female options

you will see this turians bare skin, as naked as possible, at SOME point, because artists deserve to know what a naked turian looks like

Are clearly attracted to humans and trying to be subtle about it

Asari all look spikey

Even if you don't ever flirt with a single human the character will still comment on the sturdiness of their waists and impressive flexibility.

Options for length of fringe (for males) and mandibles, carapace colouring, skin colouring and a wide variety of facepaints and patterns.

Military Turian:

Serious Voice + Reverb

Suspicious of new aliens and reluctant to trust them

Older, for a turian, you have to pick a scar for them, because their backstory involves a great deal of krogan. was on an easier circuit, patrolling

Engineer Turian:

Young voice + Reverb

Underestimates humans in 3-out-of-4 dialogue choices. 

All scar options are small and aesthetic rather than plot related.

Asari Origin:

Both:

Male or Female options

if you pick male, they will simply tell people they have male pronouns and wear male armor. Only Humans will comment on this, but largely because they dont understand monogendered aliens.

Will change slightly to look more like whatever species they are talking to, then lock into the look of the species they end up romancing (if they end up romancing someone)

A human will introduce them to Star Trek and ‘hot blue alien babe’ trope.

a lot of options for personalizing the face so you will recognize them

Matron Asari:

Has 2 kids you can meet (voiced by Bethany and FemHawke’s actors)

Young Voice

Very excited to meet new species since its been so long since anything new happened.

Probably in charge of something.

Maiden Asari:

Serious Voice

More options for being angry, since these should be your carefree sexy days, but nooo, you have to get involved in some bullshit war

This is less than half thought out, just to remind myself to think about it later, honestly

A L L O F T H E Q U E S T I O N S

Good shit good shit this took me ages holy hell enjoy you meme loving fucks Q's for you to A Do you have a favourite sweater? I actually do, it's that kinda folded over stretchy grey one I always wear, y'know? I wore it to The 1975 and, from what I hear, it was awesome. (Although I can't remember bc I was Gin Drunk) What’s your middle name? Lawrence...no judgement...Do you still talk to the first person you kissed? I don't, I wonder how's she's doing. Heard she was studying History from her friend I met in a bar one time. Glad to hear, she was nice. Do you get on with your grandparents? I did! Sadly it's been a few years since they passed but I very much did. What was your favourite cartoon as a kid? Hmm, it's a tough one, between the 90's X-Men TV show they played on repeat on Fox Kids or Ben 10 when it wasn't absolute shit like the remake. Yeah I'm bitter. What’s your favourite cartoon now? Archer lol Do you read the news paper? Yeah pretty much every day...I swear I'm not an old man. Who was the last text you sent to? My friend Laura, asking if they'll still be at the park when I finish work. What does the last text you sent say? "Y'all still gonna be there when I get away?" If you could have any hair colour what would it be? Idk I like the one I have. Do you like nature documentaries? Not really my cup of tea to be perfectly honest. What is your aesthetic? Climbing a mountain at a 90° angle in Skyrim on a horse. When did you last pet a dog? ''Twas yesterday. Whose friend’s parents do you like the most? The twins'! They employ me! I literally get paid to hang out with friends some days that's the good shit! Have you ever been on a road trip? I've been on a couple, longest was a drive to Southern Spain from Scotland! Was awesome! Tell me about someone you know called Emma? Went to school with her, cool gal, she saw HP in London and I'm jealous, shoutout to @weewildelassAre you reading a book in english class, what is it? Oh god I'm old. I haven't had or attended an English class in over 2 years. Do you have a favourite Aunt? Well considering she also employs me...hell yeah, shoutout to my Aunt K you legend! Baths or showers? Baths for comfort and treating yo self, or sharing...😏...Showers for quickness and weird snapchats at 3am...😂 Skiing or sun bathing? Sun bathing my dude. Do you kill spiders? Sometimes, sometimes not. Have you ever made an ice pop? I have not. Are you wearing shoes right now? I'm not wearing anything rn. Tell me about you favourite primary school/elementary school teacher? Let me tell you about Mrs. Mary "The Bonecrusher" Highland, and how she was such an iconic, legendary, influential and inspiring woman that she was the person you sent into the bad fucked up schools in movies and have them all pass with straight A's, she ran a tough ship and was slow to praise but when she did, she went all out, and made you feel like what you had achieved was truly a feat. Oh and she encouraged children to learn and think for themselves, genuinely encouraged you when you said you were interested in something even when it went above and beyond the curriculum. She was charitable, friendly, and spoke to you like you were an equal, and a worthy one at that. Mrs. Highland was literally so influential in so many people in my class being successful, free minded, hard working adults that she deserves a goddamn award. And let me tell you another thing, at the end of my First Year in College, I went back to my old Primary School for a teaching assistant internship because I knew the school was becoming a bit run-down and out of control and I wanted to help the way that Mrs. Highland had, and who had they just asked to come out of retirement, come back for TWO WEEKS, sort shit out and then walk away into the sunset like some goddamn Old Lady Teaching Avenger who appears when needs were greatest? MARY FUCKING HIGHLAND, I GOT TO HELP ONE OF MY CHILDHOOD HEROES BE AN ABSOLUTE TEACHING LEGEND AND REALLY INFLUENCE SOME GOOD IN A KIDS LIFE, THAT IS THE SHIT! Seriously though, she truly is one of the good ones, they don't make em like Her anymore. Who was the last person you hugged? I think that would be my mother actually hahah. Do you wear glasses? Occasionally. Do you have a cat? I sadly do not. Do you have a favourite pair of underwear? Not a favourite pair exactly more like a favourite kind?? Next All-Black, that's the good shit, makes my ass look great among other things. What was your last tweet? "How the fuck do you work twitter" about 5 years ago and I haven't used it since. Do you still use Facebook? I do, rarely. Do you like birds? Aye pal birds, blokes, the lot. Who was the last person you called cute? That genuinely would be my niece, or you lol Who was the last person that called you cute? This is a strange answer but a regular in my work. Long story. How did you meet your best friend? I literally turned a corner and ran into a group of emo's in like Fourth Year at High School and I haven't looked back since. Escalators or elevators? Nah m8, trick question, I'd rather take the stairs. Does wonders for the thighs. Are you named after anyone, who? Ahaha yeah my dad, both my granddads, and Saint. Christoper (Catholic mum yo) What was your first url? I have no idea. Autumn or Winter? Winter I can't lie. Do you win at scrabble? I do not lol Put your ipod on shuffle , who is the first song that comes up by? "American Idiot", Green Day. Classic. Have you ever drunk from a mason jar? I have not. Can you draw? Barely even write m8 let alone draw. What was your first profile picture? I think it was Kenny from South Park. Favourite t-shirt? God I have no idea. Best tumblr friend? Shoutout to @bepizzazzed and @double-dorks-beanie and @hesitant-butthole When did you last run? Tonight when as a joke my friends took my jacket and tried to get it on top of a climbing frame? lol I had it back in seconds and decided to get some payback ahah Do you like to paint your nails? Not particularly fussed, not a look I could pull off. Did you ever do something as a kid that got you into loads of trouble? I did more things to get me into trouble as a kid that anyone should ever do. And I still did it. Who is your favourite dog that isn’t yours? Trick question, all of them. Have you ever been drunk? Literally so many times. So many. Have you ever done something you regret while drunk? Some-thing? Some-one? Getting into a slutty dance off with a professional dancer? Stealing a mannequin? The exact words "I can easily make this jump..."? The exact words "Watch this lads"? The exact words "Shots won't do me any harm"? The exact words "Another Venom? Aye no bother!" The exact words "You can crash at mine if you like...?" You get the picture...I do messed up shit I'm drunk, and yet, I continue to do so. Do you want to kiss anyone right now? Ronald McDonald ngl for the sweet sweet invention of double cheeseburgers. Do/did you like you math teacher? I had a crush on both of my maths teachers, Mr. Kelly and Mrs. Hendry, both of which contributed to me turning up to class, but also contributed to me failing said classes bc I was too busy looking at them and being a hormone ridden, horny 16 year old boy, than I was doing maths. Do you often ride the bus? I do, everyday I'm in College. Do you have a fireplace in your house? We do actually it's getting renovated right now. Are you violent when you’re angry? God no! Do you cry when you’re angry? No, I rarely get angry and when I do it can only be described as dry anger. Favourite Harry Potter book? It has to be OotP, fight me. Can you remember your last dream? I can, and let me just say, Chris Pratt, thank you. Do you go to bed early or late? "Do I go to bed?" would be a better question. Do you speak a second language? I speak various levels of different languages. Some if you dropped me in their respective countries I could find my way about, albeit difficultly, and others I can ask for the bar and the bill and that's about it. Who was your first ever best friend? A boy called Dean. Have you ever had an operation? I've had a couple yeah. Tell me about your favourite cousin? His name is Reece and he's a meme loving shit and I love him the whacky bastard. Do you have a piece of clothing that doesn’t even fit you anymore but you can’t bare to throw away? During what can only be described as the Greatest Summer of My Teenage Years; the Legendary Summer of 2014, I wore on my feet almost EVERY DAY a pair of Classic Chuck's, they cost my poor wee mum like £60 the Christmas before but they were too big and when it finally hit summer they fit perfectly. I wore them every time. If you've ever read the book Me Before You or watched the film you'll know what I mean when I say they were my bumblebee tights. Have you ever been in a musical? I played the Cowardly Lion in my school play as a kid. Do you have a porch? I do not. How many times have you watched your favourite movie? At least 100 no joke it has to be. Empire Strikes Back. What do you order at McDonalds? Plain double cheese , small fries, Oasis Summer Fruits and maybe a coffee. Do you get on with old people? Worryingly well. Science Fiction or Romance? Sci-Fi m8. Do you take naps? Anytime I can. How many classes do you/did you take in High School? In my final year I took 3 classes. At its height I think I was doing 9 classes. When did it last snow where you live? A few months back. Does it ever snow where you live? It's Scotland...hahah it very much does. How many months until your birthday? 12 m8. How much charge does your computer have right now? 42%What is your favourite Disney Channel Original Movie? I don't actually think I had one. Sorry. the City or the Sea Side? Jokes on you fool, you can have both. What is your least favourite colour? Beige. Who tf likes being beige. Do you have homework to do? Nah. Are you still friends with your first best friend? I am not. Do you have/are you the gay cousin? I have an asexual cousin, bug more often than not I'm the gay cousin. Do you own dungarees? They can look cute on peeps. Do you like to play sport? I do, not to the extent I used to but yeah. What was your favourite ever Christmas present? My baby nephew. How old are you? Ugh I'm 20. Do you ever use Internet Explorer? Not for s long time. Have you ever had blonde hair? I haven't no. I wanted to but sadly I was a kid. When did you last see the person you have a crush on? Well considering I fall deeply in love with strangers who are nice to me on the train, that question is crazy. Who did you last talk to on the phone? Laura. Pants or Dresses? This question is a lot funnier in the UK and even funnier in Scotland where a man can wear one, but to do so, he's not supposed to wear the other 😉 Do you read fan fiction? Not anymore y'know. What is you’re favourite blog? @mauridianhallow is a pretty cool blog you should check that shit out Do you write poetry? I HAVE written poetry before. Drama or Comedy? How dare you insult The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt by suggesting you can't be both. Have you ever had a hickey? Perhaps...perhaps I have. Perhaps I cannot remember how I got some of them. Perhaps I should stop buying the ENTIRE bar a round of shots knowing all too well that almost every one of these people will offer to buy me drinks all night and then I won't pay shit for another drink until the night is over. Perhaps I should...I won't but I fucking should. And perhaps this has on certain occasions resulted in hickeys I don't know.

Influence anon here. Thank you for the reply. So as I am curious, who are your favourite artists aside from John Wiggins?

I’ll try to give a better answer to your original question first, because you caught me at a bad time with that one when my brain was glitching out my ears and I wasn’t thinking particularly coherently.

I love what I’ve seen of Moebius’ art, the surreal/fantastical designs and that sense of huge scale make for an amazing combination. I really need to sit myself down and actually read his comics at some point so I can feel comfortable discussing his art more, because at the moment I can’t say anything without feeling like I’m talking out my ass. Maybe one day my attention span will stop crapping out long enough for me to do that.

Lettering!! This wasn’t something you asked about but I love Tessa Stone’s lettering. The best example of this is probably Buzz, which is about competitive spelling bees and the way the characters interact with the words is excellent (I also love the use of BRIGHT YELLOW as the sole colour, I doubt I could ever manage that but god damn is it gorgeous when done by people who know how to pull it off). I tend to forget about it because I spend more of my time admiring her text, but I also like her art a lot! I don’t want to draw like Tessa Stone but there’s something about her lineart style or maybe the shapes she uses or maybe just the general energy of her artwork which is a great example of the kind of thing I try to aim for on a good day.

Another example would be this, I don’t pay much attention to comics so I honestly have no idea who Frank Miller is or what he works on but the recoloured pictures in that link are like a hyperexaggurated version of the way I’m trying to think about shapes in character design. I’m not doing very well at it yet but I’m making slow movements in that direction! I really aspire to achieve the sort of confidence it takes to straight-up fuck around with anatomy like that.

In terms of artists who’ve had a direct and immediate effect on the way I think about what I draw, though, Livio Ramondelli’s work for IDW Transformers was what finally moved me to kick some bad colouring habits I’d developed. It’s very inspiring to think he was paid actual money for that by people who were, presumably, in possession of functional eyes at the time!! I’m only being a little bit facetious here, like 70% or something.

Um, as far as stuff I love looking at but have no interest in drawing goes, I... kind of exhausted my ability to remember specific stuff at the moment, but I like stuff like this and this and this, there’s a kind of really cute semi-lineless limited-palette textured-with-little-dashes style which makes my brain purr. It’s adorable and I love it but also I have no desire to draw like that.

Also Asterios Polyp by David Mazzucchelli is super great example of thing, I’ve kind of totally burnt out on my very limited supply of human words expressed in human language the way humans do but *vague gestures* i like this thing, i like the colours and the shapes which are in this thing and the way it plays with the comic format in a way which you can’t do with other media and i think that should happen more because it’s important to me that comics are capable of being more than just sequential pictures on a page, i like it it makes me happy to look at

thank you

back at it again

1) Mun information: Name/Nickname: Shan Preferred pronouns: She/her Age: 15 Timezone: UTC

2) Muse information: Name: Wendy Testaburger Mob Alias: Black Widow Age: 19 Birthday: December 18th Height: 5'6 Mafia: La Cosa Nostra Appearance: Wendy usually wears her casual ‘Flapper’ attire - consisting of a dress that ends mid-thigh. From it, hangs many different and individual strings, all of which move in the same direction she walks. The garment is a dark purple in colour, the strings being black. It ends around her chest area, only the spaghetti-string straps keeping it so far up. Around the collar is a golden plate, all sorts of pearls and diamonds embedding into it. A pair of long, black silk gloves are worn, usually ending just above her elbow, a bracelet is worn over one on either arm. A feather boa of the same colour hangs loosely from her arms, acting as something similar to a shawl. A pair of long diamond earrings barely brush against her shoulders, matching her accompanying jewellery. Those familiar ebony locks are styled back into either a side-bun, or alternatively left to cascade effortlessly down the curve of her back. Atop them, a headband lays, a singular feather sticking out from the top. Her legs are left bare, only being covered by the single black garter that barely pokes out from underneath her dress, attached to it being a small holster - fit for any small weapon. Usually wears a pair of snazzy high heels, something dark in colour.

Occupation: Bait Girl (?)/Mercenary - Flappers are known for their disregard for social norms and usual gender roles by wearing excessive makeup, drinking, smoking, driving automobiles, and otherwise flouting social and sexual norms. Wendy, having no respect for the strict rules society had set up for her and her fellow women to live by, chose to join the movement that would shock the surrounding area. People are usually captivated by her uncaring nature, it entrancing them to no end. Taking this on board, Wendy uses their fascination against them by using her abilities to manipulate others into doing whatever it is needed by La Cosa Nostra, whether that be roping them into drug trades, alcohol bootlegging rings, or merely assassinating someone who proved to be a potential threat to her family.

Backstory: From a young age, Wendy never usually agreed with the fact that there was a thick border between the roles of a man in society, and that of a woman. She never really understood it. Having being raised in a strict mafia-riddled household, she was always brought up to be feminine and polite - the simple characteristics of the perfect female. This aggravated her. She could do anything a guy could do. Hell, she could lead her own mob! As times passed by, she was slowly introduced to the world of women who felt the same discrimination she did. This movement had its origins in the liberal period of the Roaring Twenties the social, political turbulence and increased transatlantic cultural exchange that followed the end of World War I. People had a similar mindset to her own, and slowly, the young girl adapted the Flapper lifestyle into her own, except less of the sexuality issues for her own personal preferences. At first, her father was furious. But, after some consultations with his fellow Mafia members, Wendy was deemed useful. She was strong, independent and still had that prominent femininity within her personality. It was a perfect balance between the two. And thus, Wendy “The Black Widow” Testaburger was born.

3) At least 5 headcanons about your muse:

- Carries around a thin pipe for decoration, would never truly smoke from it unless it was deemed necessary or she was overcome with stress. - The apple of her father’s eye. She usually reports back to him with either cash or reports on what she had achieved in her last mission. He rewards her with her own cut of the profit. - Usually carries around a tiny pistol within the holster around her thigh, sometimes a knife on more private occasions with a victim. - Her life has revolved around murder and crime, so she never really got to live a normal childhood. Despite this, she still carries an advanced intelligence and still makes time to focus on her studies when she isn’t on duty. - Very opinionated. Isn’t scared of the other Mafia members, and /will/ tell you if you’re being stupid without shame. - A perfectionist. Don’t expect Wendy to do a half-assed job. She will plan a perfect murder. - Destined to take over her father’s title one day, so she is set on proving herself capable.

4) Sample Paragraph, give at least 1-2 paragraphs that showcase your roleplaying, the only limit is your creativity:

The bar was clearing out now, drunks stumbling around aimlessly while yelling an array of nonsense. That, combined with the blaring jazz music that resonated throughout the joint, proved to be terribly loud. But, it was Friday night. An excuse to have fun, right? Not for Wendy. Her work never had a set schedule, she only had to act when she was called upon. Not like it bothered her, though. It wast hard, especially her current mission. Murders were usually simple, they never involved the extra work of having to manipulate /and/ trick someone into doing your dirty work. Plus, I mean, who wants to spend all night chasing after some lousy bum? She had her own life, too.

Standing in the corner of the bar, those icily coloured orbs scanned over the remaining crowd. She blinked, narrowing her eyes as she searched for her next victim. He was to be here tonight, surely. The reports given to her said so, and they had yet to let her down.

There he was, sitting over the bar with a woman on either arm. The raven scoffed, honestly disgusted at how someone could belittle themselves, especially that of a decent looking female. The man was prestigious, a well-known name throughout the community. He had it all, money, women, looks, cars, you name it. And he proved to be a serious threat to La Cosa Nostra.

Clearing her throat, Wendy took a seat on the opposing stool beside him, staring ahead at the drinks stocked behind the bar. Her hand rose to her lips, placing the pipe between it. She inhaled before retracting it, the smoke still in her mouth. “What’s a pretty lady like you doin’ all here alone, huh?” The man turned to her with a grin, gaze trailing up and down her figure hungrily. It was almost impossible to hold back the gag. What a sleaze bag. The two other women proved to be drunk off their asses, so they didn’t really give a shit that their beloved was talking to some other girl. But, unlike them, Wendy had class.

Turning, the young Testaburger looks at him, one leg crossing over the other. Her head falls, resting on the hand that had propped itself up against the wood. She exhaled, blowing a cloud of smoke into the man’s face. “I can come here and not have to leave on your arm.” Play it casual. Be yourself. That’s what gets them going the most. And so, she continued, shooting witty comments and intelligent replies in his direction. By the end of the night, he looked at her in awe.

The bar was empty now, only a few workers and stray drinkers left lingering around. Wendy and this male still sat at the top though, both laughing and cracking jokes as if they had known eachother a lifetime. She had to make them feel comfortable, thinking that she is far from a threat. Her hand is grabbed, and she is gently pulled from her seat. Her future victim clings onto her clothed digits loosely, quietly guiding her to the bathrooms. Of course, what else could someone like him want other than sex?

Wendy reached down, pulling up her skirt so that her holster was easily accessible. Grabbing the handle, she whips out a small dagger, flipping it open. The door closes behind the two as they’re squeezed into a tight bathroom stall, the light chatter and music was drowned out by the groans of pain emitting from the man, him clutching at his abdomen. His white suit soon turned a dark crimson as blood soaked into it. Wendy twists the knife that was inserted before pulling it up to his chest, slicing the skin deeply. He gasps, falling back against the wall for leverage. He slides down it, blood being smeared down the tiles as he falls into a sitting position on the toilet. The girl tears out her knife and shakes the remaining fluids from it. We couldn’t have it rust now, could we?

Those bright eyes stared down at the lifeless body in boredom. “Heh, wise guy.” This wasn’t anything new, just another death to add to the never ending list. If her calculations were correct, there should be a car outside waiting for her, judging by the time, anyways. It would take both her and the corpse to a disclosed location where she could fully rid of its remains.

Who knows what the newspaper headlines would say tomorrow? They’ll never know when The Black Widow may strike.

Accepted.