Hey You. Indie Creator. Get Rid Of The Corporate Execs And The Imaginary Writers Room In Your Brain.

hey you. indie creator. get rid of the corporate execs and the imaginary writers room in your brain. the cynical youtube reviewers and disney fans who want sanitized uwu gays probably are never even gonna be even slightly aware of your existence. write those unrelatable blorbos and those messy themes and that weirdly sexy violence. you have no one to answer to but yourself. give yourself what you want and maybe some day, some 3 random lesbians from the internet whose interests you have somehow exactly hit will look at your thing and think its pretty cool, and in the end thats all you ever needed

The Solomonar Chronicles: The Magic System

I’ve been thinking a lot about how magic functions in the Mageborn’s universe, and I encountered one big question.

Why not use magic for everything? And the answer is simple, honestly.

Casting spells costs energy.

The exact cost of energy depends on the scale and complexity of the spell. Basic charms such as levitating a box of teleporting a cup across a room wouldn’t affect someone that much. Spells such as combat and healing spells drain more energy, leaving the caster feeling more tired. And spells such as teleporting long-distance and turning invisible leave the caster almost completely drained of their energy, and some will pass out afterwords. Several spells in rapid succession (usually during a fight) can also drain a lot of energy.

Casters can actually train to cast spells at a smaller cost. Think of it like exercising. The more that spell is cast and trained, the less energy it takes to do so. This is often the focus of job training and the magic part of mage schools, not just learning the spells themselves.

Something else to add is that since energy is converted into spells, objects and spells cannot be created from nothingness. The energy can be converted into things such as fire or water, but not solid objects. With objects, they must be transformed from something else. Such as transforming a pumpkin into a chair or something.

TL;DR

Casting spells comes at the cost of energy

The larger or more complex the spell, the more energy it drains from the caster

A caster can train with certain spells so that they cost lest energy

Spells cannot be conjured from nothing

Spells can only convert energy into elements such as water, fire, and air; it cannot be converted into solid objects

Magic can only transform one solid object into another or into an element and vice versa; the more alike the objects are the easier it is to transform

You’re here with me, it’s like a dream [Early Draft]

Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Atticus had been pacing in the small hotel room for the better part of a hour, gripping a bottle of whiskey and trying to calm himself down. As soon as they had gotten back he had told the others to leave him alone, perhaps harsher than he meant to, and locked himself up in his room. He couldn’t stop thinking about those memories that had flashed through his head when Donahue cornered him. That fateful flash of light. William and Nancy lying on the ground. The dawning realization that they were dead. The memories had faded over the years, but now they were flooding back, as strong as ever.

Then there was what Donahue said. “No one will ever love you, Atticus. Because you aren’t worth loving.”

And Atticus believed him.

A knock on the door startled Atticus out of his thoughts. He chugged some of the alcohol, stormed towards the door, and almost ripped it open. Jesse was standing on the other side, flinching as the door flew open. “What do you want?” Atticus asked.

“Can we talk?” Jesse asked.

“No,” Atticus tried to shut the door, but Jesse stopped him.

“Please, I just want to help you.”

Atticus snorted humorlessly. “Why the hell would you want to help me? Leave me alone.”

“Because you’re my friend,” Jesse said. “Atticus, please, I’m worried about you. Clara and Florence are too.”

Atticus didn’t move. The last thing he wanted was to talk to someone about his problems, let alone Jesse. But from the expression on the other man’s face, he wouldn’t give up so easy. He sighed and stepped aside. “Fine.”

Jesse walked in, frowning as noticed the bottle of alcohol in Atticus’s hand. Atticus didn’t care if he saw him drink anymore. He put it on the nightstand. Jesse grabbed the chair from the desk by the window. He put it in front of the bed, sitting down. Atticus sat on the bed, crossing his legs. “So, what happened back there?” Jesse asked.

Atticus glanced away, figuring out how to phrase his words best. “I ran into someone who…hurt me. He hurt my brother too, a long time ago.”

“Edward Donahue,” Jesse said.

“Yes,” Atticus replied.

“What did he do, exactly? Did it have to do with non-mages?”

Atticus felt his throat close up and could only nod. He really didn’t want to talk about this. He certainly didn’t want to talk about it to the man he was jealous of. But now he felt like he had no choice. So he looked out the window and began. God, he wished he had more whiskey right now.

“My brother William. He fell in love with a non-mage, Nancy, and broke the Code of Secrecy. He didn’t want to break things off with her though. So he planned on moving to Ireland or Scotland with her. You know, somewhere where the rules are a lot looser. He convinced me to come along. Thought I was too unhappy in New York and that a change of scenery would do me some good.” Atticus looked down, plucking at a loose thread on the blanket.

“I don’t know how, but the Keepers found out. We were traveling at night to the docks when they confronted us. An argument broke out, and Will tried to protect Nancy from getting her memories wiped. He casted a shield spell, and Donahue mistook it for a threat. So a fight broke out. I was just trying to fend off the Keepers, trying to get Will and Nancy out of danger. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. Then Donahue-” Atticus had to pause, his voice shaking as he spoke again. “He killed them. Both of them. He claimed it was an accident but I knew better than that”

“Then they arrested me. The jury said I was innocent and only trying to defend myself, but I think the USMC was just trying to cover their asses and keep the newspapers off their backs. Donahue wasn’t happy. He thought I should be sent to prison and rot as a traitor. So he did the next best thing he could think of.” His body was trembling now. He grabbed his right arm, running his thumb along the inner side of it. “He ganged up on me with a couple other Keepers as I was going home and…”

He rolled up his sleeve. Jesse’s eyes widened with shock as he saw the raised white line on his inner arm. It spread out like lightning, branching off here and there. Atticus let Jesse take a long look before letting his sleeve fall over it. “I suppose that’s what I deserve for failing to protect them.”

For a minute neither of the two men spoke. The only sound was some faint chatter in the hallway. Atticus couldn’t meet Jesse’s gaze. Each time he tried he felt like he was about to fall apart.

“I’m not a good person to be around, Jesse,” Atticus finally said, his voice hitching a little. “People I care about get hurt or killed, so it’s for the best if they just stayed away from me. Because if I don’t hurt them, I’ll just be a burden on them. And I don’t want to put that on anyone.”

He put his head in his hands. He couldn’t do this. He needed to leave. He was just a drunken nuisance the others had to deal with. They didn’t deserve to deal with his shit. Not Jesse. Not Florence. Not Clara…God, not Clara. Not after how kind she had been to him. Panic flooded his chest. He couldn’t do this. He-

“Atticus. Atticus look at me.” Atticus flinched at the voice, and looked up to see Jesse was sitting beside him on the bed. He forced himself to look him in the eye. His gaze was soft and filled with empathy. “It’s not your fault. You are not a burden.”

Atticus took a deep, shaking breath. “You don’t know me Jesse, I’m not…I’m not a good person.”

“I think you are,” Jesse said. Atticus blinked. “The past doesn't define who you are, what you do now does. But only you can make yourself better. Nothing is going to change until you do. And you can’t love anyone else until you stop hating yourself for something that’s not even your fault. And sure, maybe I don’t know you that well. But I believe you have as much capacity for good as anyone else. You just need to find it.” He took Atticus’s hand in his own, making his heart flutter a little. “It’s going to be okay.”

“But-”

“You’re going to be okay.”

Atticus felt his resolve finally break. Tears he had been holding back desperately spilt out and ran down his cheeks. “How? How do I keep going when I have nothing left?”

Jesse pulled Atticus into a warm and tender embrace. “You don’t have to do it alone. You never did. You have The Order, you have Florence, you have Clara, and…and you have me,” he spoke gently, voice thick with emotion. Atticus buried his face into Jesse’s shoulder, letting out a sob. “We’re not leaving you. No matter how bad things get, not matter how dark the road ahead is, we’ll be right here with you.”

Atticus gripped Jesse a little tighter, and felt him adjust so they were leaning against the headboard. And for the first time he felt a spark of something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

It felt so small and so fragile, but it was there. That was all Atticus needed for now.

“Can you stay for a little longer?” Atticus asked weakly.

“Of course,” Jesse replied, resting his hand on Atticus’s head. “As long as you want me to.”

Atticus relaxed completely, practically melting into the embrace. Silence enveloped them again, but it felt more comfortable now. He focused on the sounds around them. Jesse’s steady breathing, the gentle thump of his pulse, faint voices from the hallway. For the first time in years, he felt completely at ease. He stayed holding onto Jesse and lost track of time.

Atticus didn’t realize he’d dozed off until sunlight hit his eyes the next morning. His head was pounding. He lifted his head and realized he and Jesse were still holding each other. Jesse was peacefully asleep, resting against the headboard of the bed. Atticus smiled a little at the sight. He slowly untwined himself from Jesse’s arms, making sure to not wake him up. He got out of bed and noticed the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. It was almost empty. He thought about the conversation him and Jesse had the night before and grabbed the bottle, tossing it into a bin.

It was a start.

As a rule of thumb, don't reblog donation posts or people asking for donations unless they've been vetted and reblogged by Palestinian bloggers. We usually go to lengths to verify this shit because we know scammers have been faking to get people to send them money, using the urgency of our genocide as bait.

It's disgusting this is what we're dealing with, but people are losing money because of some truly evil people out there.

Accounts don't just randomly spring up on tumblr without gofundmes while asking for someone to help them create a campaign. Fuck out of here with that shit.

“some people don’t deserve redemption” redemption isn’t something that’s deserved, it’s something someone does. it’s making the choice to change the way you live your life, to be better, to do good things instead of bad things and try to make up for the bad things. and everyone can and should do that, at any time, no matter what they’ve done. we can’t change the past, but we can choose what kind of person to be now and in the future. we have the responsibility to do so. it is so completely not about “deserving.”

how it feels when one verse fits the characters insanely but the rest of the song doesnt