#1327-1

[judesstfrancis]

🌿 & 🧸 !!

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

mesh floral print baseball jersey in obnoxious neon colors + acid wash jorts + cropped forest green tank top. slays every time I love it to death

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

I simply do not nap unless it's on accident bc I'm Exhausted idk I just don't like it. however on those accidental exhaustion naps I am almost always laying entirely flat on my bed except I have my feet propped on the wall and ig that's comfy for me ?? idk

[papermachedreamballoon]

hi guys. guess who has another last.fm goal that he plans to get to in a week

[turtletaubwrites]

One Piece x Introverted!Reader (pt. 1?)

Thank you anon for this request! This is my first time writing headcanons, so I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Headcanons and drabbles for Zoro, Sanji, and Robin with an introverted partner.

Word Count: 1327

Rating/Warnings: SFW, Just Fluff, maybe a smidgen of Angst, Alcohol

A/N: I've had to start splitting my posts from the ask, tumblr was flipping out every time I was editing. I hope you don't mind I've started linking them instead!

Zoro

Zoro enjoys this part of you, and you find an easy rhythm with each other.

You can spend hours near each other without speaking, and it feels comfy and safe. Reading a book, or working on your own tasks while he works out is an almost daily ritual (taking plenty of breaks to watch him, of course). 

During the many feasts and celebrations that seem to occur, Zoro tends to loosen up more with booze, and he’ll wrap his arm around you during conversations. He’s gotten to know your body language well, and even drunk, he’d notice if you were uncomfortable or worn out. He wouldn’t even make an excuse or say goodbye to the group, he’d just drag you (or pick you up) and find a quiet spot to relax together. Preferably with a bottle of sake.

If Zoro notices you having trouble speaking to people in public, he might try to find ways to help you feel stronger without bringing it up directly, like teaching you breathing exercises, or power stances, etc.

“Why are you teaching me this?” “So you can feel, uh… Well, you’re a pirate. Pirates need to breathe… good.”

Drabble

“You okay?”

You pulled your hands away from your temples, the dull headache still creeping on you. Zoro sat beside you, spreading his legs out on the dirt, his back against the large tree.

The rest of the crew was laughing around the fire, another triumph to celebrate with the locals. 

“It’s just been a long day. I’ll be good in a minute.”

He hummed, setting his hand out between you in case you wanted to hold it. You did. 

“You don’t have to. They’re too loud anyway.”

Your lips pulled into a small, but grateful smile as you leaned onto his warm shoulder. His fingers squeezed yours gently, before his other hand brought a bottle to his lips. 

He gestured it toward you, and you hummed your ‘no’ before letting your eyes close.

Zoro’s quiet warmth beside you filled you up. You never felt like a burden with him. He would just join you, as if it was normal. 

“Thank you.”

He huffed a laugh, voice low.

“Like I said, those idiots are too loud. I’d rather be here with you.”

Sanji

Sanji prides himself on meeting your every need, but it would take some practice for him to figure it out, unless you’re clear with him.

He wants to spoil you, to show you off, to bring you out on dates at every island.

If you’re not open with him about your needs to recharge, and he sees you getting drained with him, he might get worried. He'd wonder what he’s doing wrong, and would overcompensate.

Eventually he’d connect the dots, but if you just tell him then he’ll cater to you. He wants you to feel cherished, and he won’t mind making changes for you, as long as he knows what you need.

But he will have a hard time not showering you with compliments all day, often in front of strangers and even enemies. 

“My sunshine, my darling. You look so gorgeous under the stars like this. Don’t mind them, I’ll kick their asses so I can get back to worshiping you.”

Sanji would take note of all the things that comfort you. Whatever items like books, sweaters, fidgets, etc, and he would make sure to have them in reach for you if he saw your tells.

He’d also love whisking you away from any situation. If he noticed your demeanor shift, or if you leaned against him and whispered that you needed to leave, he would make up any excuse to get you out of there.

“My sweetheart needs some tea, we’ll catch up with you later. No Usopp, you don’t get any tea, go away.”

Drabble

“My love, is this dinner not to your liking? We can go back to the ship, I’ll make you whatever you like.”

“No Sanji, it’s delicious,” you said with a weak smile, guilt riding you for your drop in mood in the middle of the date he’d set up in the local town.

The look of concern on his face made you sigh. 

Why do I always have to bring people down?

“Please, mon coeur, tell me if there’s something bothering you. Is it something I’ve done?” 

“No, Sanji, I’m so sorry. I just have a hard time around a lot of people for too long. I love our date, I just get drained sometimes. I’m sor–”

“Don’t be sorry, dear. How about we take this to go? We can eat at the park on the way, or back at the ship? Whatever you need.”

The hurt and concern was gone from his face, replaced by a soft smile that made you lift your eyes to the ceiling to stop the hint of tears from welling up.

“I’m sorry I ruined–”

“Mon amour, I won’t listen to another word of that.”

His tone was firm as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, almost a fierceness in his eyes now.

“And I will boil anyone that’s made you feel this way before. I’m happy with you anywhere. As long as you’re happy.”

You bit your quivering lip, trying not to think of partners in the past that had gotten angry at you when you’d need a break, when you didn’t want to go out. 

Sanji was different. Now that he knew, he checks in, he makes changes, and that pressure you used to feel is fading. 

“Anything you need, my love.”

Robin

You’d never have to worry, Robin is always your safe haven.

Even around the rest of the crew, Robin seems to have a quiet little corner, and you can sit with her, recharging as she reads, sending you a gentle smile now and then.

At parties, Robin will catch your gaze, often pulling you away from the group to go explore the area on your own. Always hunting for books, pets, and cozy spots.

If Robin notices you’re uncomfortable with people near you, she’d literally spawn arms on you to push them back a bit. Usually would only do this within the crew, and everyone would laugh while she pulled you away from the more rambunctious crew members. (i.e. Luffy hanging on you, and yelling directly in your ear, lol)

Robin is an introvert, and she’s found a great balance for herself. She helps you figure out what you need, and what your limits are, and it feels wonderful to have someone understand and support you so well

She’s the best girl 🥰

Drabble

“Mmhm,” you nodded, sipping your drink as Nami and Usopp chatted with the group’s new friends.

You hadn’t been able to chat for awhile now, brain slowly slinking back in your skull with guilt as you tried to keep a friendly look on your face.

You coughed to cover a gasp, the group turning to focus on you.

“Uh, excuse me. I’m going to grab another drink.”

The arm that had spawned on your back to tap gently on your shoulder tapped again until you turned to that side. There was Robin, smiling at you as she sat at the bottom of a staircase.

Letting out a strained breath, you made your way to her, already feeling lighter.

“Care to take a break with me, darling?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed, kissing her cheek as you sat beside her.

Robin leaned against you, people watching as you closed your eyes for a while. Now and then she would let out a soft hum or a low chuckle, and you grinned. Robin saw so much, and you loved to hear what she learned from people just by watching them. 

There was no pressure to return to the group. You could stay and watch with Robin, you could head back to the ship. You could do whatever felt best, and Robin would still be Robin. She’d still smile at you, just like this.

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think, normally I just write a whole ass thing, lol

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[reachartwork]

i'm older now

i've been so stressed out and busy that i forgot my birthday was three days ago on the 25th.

if you feel like offering an internet person any birthday presents i will accept one of two gifts;

#1 - doodles of my owlsona are acceptable tribute.

#2 and more important is that rent + lawyer costs + meds is like 130% of my next paycheck and so i am in Negative Money right now. if you feel like contributing to the Reach Artwork "Don't Die, Don't Let Your Spouse Get Deported Or Die" fund, that would be helpful, and you can do so (as always) at

i am currently 1327 dollars into the 4200 dollars that all these assorted costs are punching me in the face with.

thanks in advance

[slytheringlambert91]

New Fic!

Theft in the Family...By Jason Todd

Talia tasks Jason with taking Damian to his father, and a few things change

Primary Tags: jason and damian met in the league, mainly fluff

I've written through half of chapter 4, i'm expecting 5-6 chapters

Chapter 1 under the cut:

word count: 1327

Jason’s life changed (for the third—fourth? Fifth? Fuck Jason’s lost count—time) the day Talia burst into his room in the league headquarters.

Jason snaps to attention, drawing the knife from under his pillow.

Talia may be like a mother to him, and he may love her little boy more than anything, but this is still the league. If you’re not hypervigilant, you’re dead. Threats are everywhere, even where you don’t expect them.

“The clown is dead.” She announces.

Jason relaxes, then tenses up again once the words register.

“You’re not kidding.”

“No. I have personally ensured it.”

“What…what about the plan?”

“It has been changed. You will still go to Gotham, but you must take Damian with you.”

“What.” He didn’t mind Damian coming with him, but taking him from Ra’s was declaring war on the league.

“I need you to deliver him to his father. It is not safe for him here.”

When Jason agrees, she hands over a letter.

“Give this to my Beloved. Come, you leave now.”

“I’m—I’m not packed.” He didn’t want to see Bruce, maybe he could keep Damian for himself?

As soon as the thought pops in his head, he dismisses it. He wouldn’t be able to give Damian a fulfilling life, he’s barely 17 for fuck’s sake. (He thinks, anyway, the whole being dead thing makes knowing his age difficult).

“You will find everything you need on the plane.”

They weave through the labyrinth of corridors, eventually reaching the plane Talia’s arranged.

Damian is already there, sitting primly in one of the chairs in the cargo hold.

Talia exchanges a tearful goodbye (on Damian’s side, Talia is as immovable as ever) with her 6 year old, and Jason readies for takeoff.

When they arrive in Gotham, Jason lands at a private airstrip just outside of Gotham. Bruce would probably find out about it, since he seems to know fuckin’ everything, but that’s really not Jason’s problem right now. Talia had provided a small car, so he packs Damian into the backseat and drove off towards Bristol.

“Alright, Princeling, the rules are different here. Your father has two other kids, and you need to get along with them. No killing, no maiming, no trying to assert yourself as the rightful heir.”

“But I am the rightful heir, am I not?”

It still shocked him how formal Damian was. No matter how many times he heard it, hearing a six year old talk like he’s an old monarch or some shit is something you never get used to.

“It doesn’t work like that here. Bruce…Bruce loves his children equally,” Jason may not believe it—the Old Man has favorites, and you can never convince him otherwise—but Damian needs to. Bruce needs to accept Damian, and that won’t happen if the kid is trying to kill his siblings. “No killing and no maiming are the main rules, but make sure you listen to whatever Bruce and Alfred say, alrigh’?”

“Ok, Akhi.” Damian’s voice is sleepy, and Jason can practically hear him drifting off.

He smiles softly, having Damian around helped tremendously with getting the Pit Rage under control, and he’s sure that’s what Talia’s plan was. The rage is useful for some things, but if she wanted to get Damian out of Nanda Parbat for his safety, she had to make sure he wouldn’t be overcome with pit rage and kill the kid.

The drive passes pretty quickly, though he does catch a few glimpses of Bats on rooftops on his way to the manor. He makes sure they haven’t followed him, and then parks in the woods about a mile from the manor.

“C’mon, Habibi.” He grabs Damian out of the backseat and settles him on his hip.

“I can walk, I am not a child!” His voice is still sleepy, but the exclamation is still there.

Jason couldn’t help but snort.

“Actually, by definition, you are a child. I’m not making you walk a mile, I can carry you.”

“I can walk, Todd!”

“Quiet, Habibi. You’re not walking.”

“Tt.” Damian huffs but settles down.

The walk passes quickly, if you ignore Damian’s annoyed grumbling, and then they’re standing before the gates of the manor.

Well, kind of.

They’re standing off to the side and in one of the camera blind spots.

Jason takes a second to analyze the fence line, and finds a shorter tree they could climb and hop over.

Hopefully Bruce didn’t drastically change the security measures on the grounds.

He carries Damian over to the tree and prompts him to grab the lowest branch. Once he is safely sitting in the tree, Jason climbs up after him.

”Can you jump over the fence and land safely?”

Damian tosses a scathing glare (well…as scathing as a six year old can be) at Jason and prepares to jump.

”That wasn’t an answer, and I really need one. The ‘safely’ was the most important part of that.”

”Tt.” Damian throws himself off the branch, flipping in the air and lands softly on the ground.

”You’re gonna get along so great with Golden Boy…” Jason mutters before following. He doesn’t flip, but he does manage to land almost as softly as Damian. He eyes the yard for a few seconds, trying to spot the security triggers.

He scoops Damian up again and picks his way across the yard, heading for the Manor.

He stops a little ways away, within view of the driveway and front door. “Ok, I’ll stay here until you’re inside.”

Damian furrows his brow and turns his inquisitive gaze on Jason. “You are not coming with me?”

”This isn’t my home anymore, Princeling.” He smiles sadly, “Your father won’t want me around, this is somewhere you have to go alone.”

”I do not want to live there without you! Why can’t I stay with you?”

”You need to stay with your father. He can keep you safe.” Jason crouches to be eye level with him, and runs a hand through Damian’s soft hair. “I will always come if you call, Habibi. I promise you.” He tugs two letters out of his jacket, one for Bruce and one for Alfred.

He wrote the one for Alfred specifically. Damian needs to know how to contact Jason, and therefore someone in the family will too.

“Give these to Alfred Pennyworth when he opens the door.” He hands them to Damian, “Go on now.”

”No! You can’t leave me.”

”Damian.”

”Why do you have to leave me?” Damian’s eyes started watering.

”I don’t belong here, ok? I can’t stay.”

Damian huffs and glares at him, tears still leaking out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but you need to go.” Jason pulls him in for a quick hug. “I love you, Habibi. If you need me, tell Alfred, alrigh’? He’ll be able to contact me.”

Damian doesn’t respond, just buries his face in Jason’s chest, in an uncharacteristic show of affection.

Eventually, Damian pulls away and wipes his eyes. “I do not want you to go, Akhi.”

If Jason stays any longer he just might stay, damn Damian’s convincing.

“I can’t, Dami. Bruce doesn’t want me!”

”How do you know?”

I’m not your father. I don’t have to deal with your teenage rebellion.

I’m not your father

I’m not your father

”Because he fuckin’ told me so, kid.”

”Tt.”

”Dami…” Jason sighs, “I’ll visit, how ‘bout that? I’m sure we can figure it out.”

”That is acceptable, I suppose,” Damian’s tone is sullen, and he refuses to meet Jason’s eyes.

”Good. Now go on, the bats will probably be back from patrol soon.”

Damian darts in for another quick hug, then makes his way towards the door.

Jason watches as he knocks, then a few seconds later Alfred opens the door. Damian hands over the letters and is ushered inside.

Time for Jason to head out, then.

“Bye, Habibi.” He murmurs, then leaves the way he came.

[fandomtrumpshate]

FTH 2023 Wrap-Up

Boy has it been a year, guys.

This seemed like the year when anything that could go wrong did, from covid to family emergencies to work obligations to software bugs. We're so grateful to you all for your patience and for coming back year after year to remind us why we do this.

Historically, non-election years have usually seen slumps in both our number of auctions and our donation totals. But this year? You guys blew us away yet again.

We had just as many auctions as last year, which is amazing. But even beyond that: our donation total ��just 10% lower than last year's massive record— is 150% higher than our third best year, making it a very close second.

So are you ready for this year's grand total?

This year

thanks to all of you

FTH raised...

$47,361.75!

Which brings our seven-year total to

$239,507.86

Thank you so much to our 616 creators who offered 800+ auctions in over 400 different fandoms and subfandoms, and to everyone who bid! Also a special shoutout to our record 17 crafters who raised over $2500 of this - three times as much as any of our previous craft bazaars!

Your returning mods (@porcupine-girl, @captainbunnicula, @tiltedsyllogism, @anyawen, and @renjunbabygirl) would also like to give our heartfelt thanks to this year's two additions to the mod team, @trickybonmot (who has been a mod before but was returning after several-year absence) and @a-still-small-vox (who is brand new to this whole thing). Given everything that went down this year, the auction literally could not have happened without them. They've been ridiculously awesome.

Creators, be sure you contact your bidders by April 1, and bidders, on your end please respond to their communication by April 15!

Once the fanwork is posted, let us know via our form (can you believe six creators have already finished??) and if you're posting it on AO3 be sure to add it to the Fandom Trumps Hate 2023 collection. If you're writing a fic for FTH and need help from our Regiment of Fan Laborers, email us!

As always, we hope that for at least some people, your involvement in FTH will lead to continued action throughout the year. Sign up for our organizations' email lists, check out their volunteer opportunities, and help boost their signals on social media!

And if you'd like to run your own fanworks auction for a good cause, we can help get you started! Contact us at fandomtrumpshate at gmail.com and we can send you our auction playbook, as well as answer any questions you have about our process.

Your mods are going to be going into post-auction hibernation mode (or, for most of us, post-auction deal-with-all-this-other-stuff mode) for a little while. So if you email us, don't panic if we don't get back to you immediately! We will start actively monitoring the inbox again by April 15 at the latest.

Here is a quick snapshot of the donations to individual organizations - see below the cut for all of the totals!

We hope to see you all again next year!

Amounts raised for each of our individual orgs:

TLDEF $8,594.5 (18.15%) DigDeep/Navajo Water Project $7,037 (14.86%) Rainbow Railroad $5,970 (12.61%) Sherlock’s Homes Foundation $3,169.5 (6.69%) Life After Hate $3,069.75 (6.48%) Never Again Action $3,062.75 (6.46%) Citizens’ Climate Education $2,235 (4.72%) Xerces $2,103 (4.44%) Razom $2,101 (4.43%) Violence Policy Center $1327 (2.80%) NNtEDV $1,157.75 (2.44%) The Appeal $935 (1.97%) Other organizations (that aren’t abortion funds) $1,151 (2.43%)

All abortion funds $5,468.50 (11.54%) Indigenous Women Rising $2,073 (4.43%) other abortion funds $1,184.50 (2.50%) Abortion Fund of Ohio $963 (2.03%) KY Health Justice Network $634 (1.34%) New Orleans Abortion Fund $349 (.74%) Buckle Bunnies $240 (.51%)

[it-happened-one-fic]

Play the Fool - Dottore

Author Notes: Happy MerMay Genshin! This fic happened kind of spontaneously but I had a lot of fun writing it! Depending on how well it's received and what I feel like there may end up being a part two. I listened to "Black Sea" by Natasha Blume while writing this fic and I'm not gonna lie, this fic did not turn out how it was originally slated to. But I'm fairly happy with it. Dottore's merman fish base was a betta fish. Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: MerMay/ Mer-Dottore/ Merman AU/ gender-neutral reader/ I'm not gonna label this as fluff since that doesn't feel quite right, but know that it's NOT angst, yandere, or anything like that

Word Count: 1327

Trigger Warning: Discussion of past crimes including murder (Dottore), Fatui are generally shady

{Part 1: You're Here!}, {Part 2}, {Part 3}, {Part 4}, {Part 5}

EDIT: Entire series now available on AO3! (link deleted due to glitches)

I sat just outside the tank, watching the mysterious merman swim to and fro. Writing impossibly difficult equations with a sharpie on the glass walls of his tank as he continued on about his work and ignored me just like he always did.

According to some of the Fatui scientists who’d occasionally pass by to gossip and puzzle about the strange things he wrote, this odd man had once been the infamous Dottore. The second of the harbingers that worked for the Tsaritsa herself. But then something had gone horribly wrong in an experiment, and he’d turned into this. 

An exotic merman that looked more like something out of a fairy tale than a horrific science accident. But then, fairy tales often served as warnings of some sort, didn’t they?

Either way, his mistake had given some of his less-than-loyal lackeys the chance they needed. 

He’d been shoved into a tank and presented to the Tsaritsa as a centerpiece for her viewing pleasure. After that, each of them had become heads of the Fatui’s research labs.

Their betrayal had not been taken lightly, though, and at least three of them had been dragged into his tank and murdered when they’d come by to feed him. 

That was why they had hired an outsider to feed and care for the Harbinger, turned merman by his own crazed experiments. An outsider who was, namely, me.

Though I’d initially been terrified of the man, he was hardly frightening now. As long as I didn’t bug him when I gave him his food and kept his tank clean, he largely ignored me. Well, unless he wanted something for his work that continued even now within his tank.

Because despite the fact that he never spoke and had exchanged his legs for fins, Dottore remained intelligent. The trouble was, no one could truly understand what he was working on. The scientists only ever said that, from what they could interpret, it was groundbreaking.

But that wasn’t the only way my charge showed off his cleverness.

Whenever one of the few remaining scientists who’d been party to his betrayal came by to gloat about their victory or scowl at his writings that even they couldn’t understand, there was risk.

Almost inevitably, he would find a way to lure them closer and somehow, without any words, convince them to open the tank despite the risks they knew he posed.

Because while Dottore didn’t seem to kill without reason, he did kill for revenge. 

He’d never offered to harm me, but maybe that was because I served a purpose. After all, I was the only person who was willing to take care of his tank and feed him now.

Even the other Harbingers didn’t come by anymore, and the Tsaritsa had long since abandoned her ‘pet.’

He swirled through the water, his long, brilliantly blue tail fins spiraling around him like silk robes as he twisted. Looking over towards where I sat. 

I straightened slightly, surprised that my presence was even being acknowledged by the usually uninterested man, and, after a brief moment, he abandoned his pen. Letting it drop from his long fingers and drift to the bottom of the tank before he swam towards me. 

He stopped just short of the wall, a smile curving across his face, before he reached out with both hands. Pressing his tapered fingertips to the pristine glass that created a wall between us.

Curious, I mirrored his motions, placing my own fingertips on the glass right over where his rested. My eyes widened as he proceeded to flatten his entire hand on the glass, spreading his fingers as I, for reasons that even I didn’t understand, did the same.

It was like he was trying to communicate something to me, despite the fact that our interactions up until now had largely been limited to him pointing at whatever he wanted or scowling at me when I cleaned his tank.

He was the first to pull away, pulling one hand away to point up towards the top of the tank, the only place the water could be accessed from. I hesitated, realizing that the only other people I'd ever seen him direct to that location had been his would-be victims, whom I’d always only barely managed to stop.

I had been up there numerous times to toss his food or whatever item he’d requested by imperiously pointing at in, but I’d never done so simply to meet with him.

My fingers slid down the glass slightly, a frown creeping onto my face as my fingertips came to rest just over his palm, “If you try to drown me, I’m quitting.”

My words had only been muttered, but judging from the smile, devoid of kindness, that spread across his face, he had heard them and was pleased.

I stepped away from the glass, my gaze staying on him, floating with only a twitch of his finned tail, until I at last turned to mount the metal staircase that led to the tank’s top.

  I stepped up lightly, watching as he swam upwards, following my ascent in a far more fluid fashion as he glided silently through the water.

My steps had been unhesitating, but I paused as I reached towards the button that would lift the ceiling of the tank off. It was the only thing separating me from the merman who waited just below it. 

He would be furious if I aborted now, but that wasn’t my concern at the moment. My only worry at the moment would be what he might do if I did open the tank.

Would he attack and drown me? I had no clue how strong he actually was, but judging from his success rate thus far, I doubted I could get away from him.

The scientists he’d drowned were all members of the Fatui. Trained to serve that Tsaritsa in whatever way she needed.

 I wasn’t. I had no training or skills to assist me should he try to hurt me.

And yet I found myself pressing the button and watching as the machines activated even as I maintained a reasonably safe distance. I would listen to him, I was curious after all. But I also wouldn’t make it easy for him to attack me.

The sounds of metal sliding against metal filled the air as the tank's lid was slowly lifted off and the seal that held it to the tank’s thick glass walls burst.

Sure enough, there he was. Just under the surface of the water and looking directly up at me like he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that I’d done just as he’d wished. But up until now, I suppose I’d seemed totally obedient to his whims from his perspective. Well, except for when I would save his would-be victims from his machinations. And even that never seemed to really upset him. Rather, he’d always seemed more amused as he eyed the careful distance I kept between us. 

With a mere twitch of his tail, he surfaced, and I watched as he did something new. Something I’d never seen him do before, even when he was tempting foolish scientists closer.

He spoke.

“I always knew you were far more clever than most of the others here.” My eyes widened at the sound of his smooth voice. Wholly unfamiliar to my ears but strangely relaxing.

I shifted, still keeping my distance even though it was almost instinctive to step closer to him. I was curious, but cautious. And now that I was here, listening to the previously silent merman, I would play the fool and hear him out, “What do you want?

He drifted closer, either pushed by the water or by his own motions; I didn’t know which since my attention was on the single word that left his mouth as he lifted the mask from his face, revealing bright red eyes that I’d never seen before, “Out.”

[whencyclopedia]

HAPPY Valentine's Day!

❤️ Photo 1: A marble statue of Amor and Psyche, the lovers from the late 2nd Century CE novel "The Golden Ass" by Lucius Apuleius (125 - 170 CE). Marble. Roman copy, around 150 CE. ©️ by Osama S.M. Amin.

❤️ Photo 2: Painted limestone statue of an unnamed man and his wife. Thebes, Egypt. 18th Dynasty, (1543–1292 BCE). ©️ by Osama S.M. Amin.

❤️ Photo 3: Detail of a painting from the limestone walls of the Tomb of the Diver. Paestum, Italy. c. 480-470 BCE. By Miguel Hermoso Cuesta.

❤️ Photo 4: Amorous couple from central India, Chandella Dynasty, 11th century CE. By Jan van der Crabben.

❤️ Photo 5: Joined Couple from Nayarit, Mexico. (100 BCE-250 CE). From James Blake Wiener.

❤️ Photo 6: The Arnolfini Wedding painting by the Netherlandish Renaissance artist Jan van Eyck (1434 CE).

❤️ Photo 7: General Horemheb & Wife. 18th Dynasty, c. 1327-1323 BCE. From the tomb of Horemheb at Saqqara, Egypt. ©️ by Osama S.M. Amin.

❤️ Photo 8: The painted terracotta Sarcophagus of the Married Couple from the Etruscan site of Cerveteri. c. 530-520 BCE. By Sailko.

❤️ Photo 9: Woman Spying on Male Lovers by an unknown artist, Qing Dynasty.

[firstprince-ao3feed]

Count down from 10

by clottedcreamfudge The pain caused by appendicitis varies wildly from person to person – Alex knows this. He also knows that this hurts so much he wants to throw up, and also that Henry’s doing a really bad job of pretending he isn’t terrified. “You’re the son of a former United States President,” Henry says as he helps Alex down the steps of the brownstone towards the waiting ambulance, his voice tight. “If they don’t sort you out extremely quickly, I think it’s a federal offence.” “Get me that on a t-shirt,” Alex rasps. * Prompt: “You’re my new pillow.” Words: 1327, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 12 of Softie September 2024 Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Medical Procedures, Domestic Fluff, Hospitals, Appendicitis, Love, Husbands, Medication via https://ift.tt/pfYqgG4

[dc-marvel-crossovers]

Day 1: a magnificent slice of stardust by @bittercape. Roy Harper/Tony Stark, 857 words, rated T.

Day 2: An Adamantium Shovel by @notherdeadrobin. Jason Todd/Slade Wilson & Logan, 3496 words, rated T.

Day 3: The Stockings Were Hung by @betrayedbycinnamon. Bucky Barnes/Jason Todd/Clint Barton, 3945 words, explicit.

Day 4: Can’t Start A Fire Without A Spark by @mightymightygnomepriest. Frank Castle/Jason Todd, 1322 words, explicit.

Day 5: Winter Traditions by @carcrash429. Clint Barton/Ronon Dex (Stargate Atlantis), 1152 words, rated G.

Day 6: Barebow by @artaxlivs. Clint Barton/Jason Todd, 3421 words, rated M.

Day 7: Biggest Fan by @claraxbarton. Clint Barton/Roy Harper, art.

Day 8: Make It Up As We Go Along by @there-must-be-a-lock. Roy Harper/Clint Barton, 4922 words, rated T

Day 9: early next mornin’ (‘bout a half past nine) by @capriciouswrites. Karen Page & Jason Todd, 2212 words, rated M.

Day 10: Just Want You For My Own (More Than You Could Ever Know) by @there-must-be-a-lock. Dick Grayson/Jason Todd and Dick Grayson/Clint Barton, 4461 words, explicit

Day 11: Baby It's Hot Outside by @claraxbarton. Clint Barton/Jason Todd and Clint Barton/Diana Prince, art.

Day 12: Sit By The Fire by @darbydoo22. Steve Rogers/Dick Grayson, 746 words, rated G.

Day 13: On Target by @claraxbarton. Clint Barton/Roy Harper, art.

Day 14: Waiting For Something More by @wyxan. Peter Parker/Michelle Jones & Tim Drake, 2342 words, rated G.

Day 15: Nocking Point by @artaxlivs. Jason Todd/Clint Barton. 5042 words, explicit.

Day 16: any frontier, any hemisphere by @bittercape. Jason Todd/Steve Rogers, 719 words, rated T.

Day 17: Christmas Magic by TheologyDiscography. Clint Barton & Harry Potter, 1694 words, rated G.

Day 18: to hold saltwater in your mouth by @paprikadotmp4. Jason Todd/Bucky Barnes, 598 words, rated T.

Day 19: Wake Up by @claraxbarton. Clint Barton/Jason Todd, art.

Day 20: Birds of a Feather by @carcrash429. Clint Barton/Sam Wilson/Dick Grayson, 1291 words, rated G.

Day 21: all things nature’s given by @carcrash429. Clint Barton & Dick Grayson, 1327 words, rated G.

Day 22: I’ll Take The Dangerous One by @wyxan. Yelena Belova/Stephanie Brown, 2698 words, rated T.

Day 23: In Brightest Day by @claraxbarton. Clint Barton/Kyle Rayner, art.

Day 24: can’t start a fire without a spark, ch. 2 by @mightymightygnomepriest. Frank Castle/Jason Todd, 3468 words, explicit.

[xolilith]

Qual livro iremos ler no clube do livro rios de prosa?

Observação: eu irei disponibilizar a obra escolhida em PDF!

1. Carmilla

autor: Sheridan Le Fanu

Cerca de quinze anos antes de Drácula, um livro sobre vampiros marcou a literatura gótica e estabeleceu-se entre os clássicos de horror: Carmilla, de Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. Aliás, não um livro sobre vampiros, sobre “a vampira”.

A lasciva personagem que dá título ao conto tornou-se uma das mais impactantes figuras do imaginário vampiresco na história.

A obra é narrada por Laura, jovem que vive isolada com o pai em um castelo na Estíria – região do antigo império austro-húngaro.

Uma hóspede inesperada, entretanto, despertará os sentimentos amorosos da jovem Laura, ao mesmo tempo que lhe causará certo terror ao trazer de volta antigos pesadelos da infância.

Carmilla é um conto sobre sedução e horror, criaturas ancestrais e o despertar da maturidade, amor e repulsa.

Um clássico excitante para os amantes do gênero.

2. O nome da rosa

Autor: Umberto Eco

Itália,1327. O frei Guilherme de Baskerville recebe a missão de investigar a ocorrência de heresias em um mosteiro beneditino. Porém a morte de sete monges em sete dias, em circunstâncias insólitas, muda o rumo da investigação. Primeiro romance do autor, publicado em 1980 tornou-se um sucesso de vendas, fazendo com que o italiano, conceituado professor de semiótica, alcançasse prestigio internacional como romancista. Marcada pela ironia de Eco, a narrativa é repleta de mistérios com símbolos secretos e manuscritos codificados.

Eco retratou um episódio fictício, que ocorre durante a Idade Média, em que o riso é dado como proibido. O enredo d'O Nome da Rosa gira em torno das investigações de uma série de crimes misteriosos, cometidos dentro de uma abadia medieval. Com ares de Sherlock Holmes, o investigador, o frade franciscano Guilherme de Baskerville, assessorado pelo noviço Adso de Melk, vai a fundo em suas investigações, apesar da resistência de alguns dos religiosos do local. Até que então desvenda as causas dos crimes, estando ligadas à manutenção de uma biblioteca que mantém em segredo obras apócrifas, obras que não seriam aceitas em consenso pela igreja cristã da Idade Média, como é a obra risonha criada por Eco e atribuída romantescamente a Aristóteles. A aventura de Guilherme de Baskerville é desta forma uma aventura quase quixotesca.

3. O perigo de estar lúcida

Autora: Rosa Montero

Com base na sua experiência pessoal e na leitura de inúmeros livros sobre psicologia, neurociência, literatura e memórias de grandes escritores, pensadores e artistas, Rosa Montero nos oferece um estudo fascinante sobre as ligações entre criatividade e instabilidade mental. O leitor descobrirá nestas páginas a teoria da “tempestade perfeita” — aquela que prega que na explosão criativa são postos em cena fatores químicos e situacionais irrepetíveis — e presenciará o processo de surgimento de ideias que a autora, desfrutando de suas vivências, habitou diretamente, e durante anos, um território nas vizinhanças da loucura.

4. O prazer do texto

Autor: Roland Barthes

Quem suporta sem nenhuma vergonha a contradição? Ora, este contra-herói existe: é o leitor de texto; no momento em que se entrega a seu prazer. Então o velho mito bíblico se inverte, a confusão das línguas não é mais uma punição, o sujeito chega à fruição pela coabitação das linguagens, que trabalham lado a lado: o texto de prazer é Babel feliz". Em um escrito caleidoscópico, quase um bloco de anotações, Barthes analisa o prazer sensual do texto para quem lê ou escreve.

[townsenddecades]

All You Want To Know And More

Why, hello there! Glad you made it to my corner of the internet.

This blog is meant to chronicle my most recent playthrough of Morbid Gamer’s Ultimate Decades Challenge, following a family of sims for many generations from the 1300s onwards. I started my first playthrough sometime in the first half of 2023 and had got to the end of the 15th century before the urge struck me to start another one in a more medieval world.

This is the challenge you’ll be seeing on this blog. More infos under the cut.

A note on my posting habits: I have a queue that puts out one post per day. Initially, I wanted to refill that queue after every five years played, but I'll probably switch that to after every year played so it isn't so much work at once.

I am also currently playing a supernatural 1800s UDC over at my side blog @moonlightfallsdiaries

Current Households (spoilers if you aren't caught up, obviously)

Family Tree (spoilers up to 1327)

Navigation:

Introducing the Challenge

Gen 0: Benedict & Anne Townsend | 1300 | 1305 | Recap 1300 - 1309

Gen 1: Benjamin & Malika Townsend | 1312 | Recap 1310 - 1319 | 1325

Links:

Morbid Gamer’s Ultimate Decades Challenge

Plumbob’s and the Past’s UDC

My Mods and CC

If anyone is interested, I could upload my spread sheet as well, but I currently don't have it online.

Some technical details

I’ll be playing this challenge in The Sims 3, which means no Ye Olde Cookbook, Royalty Mod, Simple Living Lot Trait or the like, but I’ve heavily modded my game to achieve a more immersive gameplay.  This challenge will start – but likely not remain in -  the gorgeous custom world of Praaven, which is both medieval and completely roadless.

A link to a post with the mods I use can be found above.

This challenge will be more historically inspired than historically authentic, both because the game has its limitations and because my scant historical expertise lies more in the early 20th century.

For the most part, I’ll be following the rules defined by Morbid Gamer, with some deviations:

I’ll take some inspiration from Plumbobs and the Past’s ideas to make the challenge a bit more interesting. For example, when my sims go fishing, I’ll have them pay a fee, I’ll deduct 10% of the proceeds for whatever they harvest or sell from household funds, I will use PATP's dowry rules, and probably more.

Instead of starting with three teenagers, I decided to start with two young adults that have already been married for a bit and have two children and a toddler. I had a bit of a story in mind involving the proverbial lady of the house and the local Earl, so I wanted to jump right into the action.

As Sims 3 has no option to plead with the Grim Reaper (although you can play a match of chess with him or be saved by your pet, but you would have to have a pet that likes you for that to work, or both a chess table and enough skill points) I substitute that action with rolling a d4 when a Sim I’d like to live rolls to die. If it’s a 4, they survive.

Since I think it’s boring if most sims (barring historical events) die at exactly 6/13/20/30, I’ll sometimes roll a die to see how many years of life a sim has left. Those years can never be more than the sim would have to live until the next life stage. If, for example, a sim fails their young adult roll, I’ll roll a d10. 10 means the sim dies immediately, 5 means they live to be 25, etc. A teenager or a child, accordingly, can only roll a d7.

Illegitimate children are not automatically out of the running, they just rank after all their legitimate siblings in the succession. So it's legitimate sons, then legitimate daughters, then illegitimate sons, then illegitimate daughters, and after that the nearest-related side household. Rule may be taken liberty with as is dramatically convenient.

For the most part, no re-marriages for side households. The heir, however, can and will remarry as necessary.

I’ll be starting with a family of farmers, the Townsends, but just for the fun of it, I’ll also be rolling for the two resident noble families, that of the Earl of Petersmarch, who resides in the city of Praaven, and that of Baron Elbenhawke, whose family seat is in the hills just above the Townsend’s village. As they are not even proper side households, I’ll only mention the nobles’ fates on the side, mostly as a little info text at the end or mentioned in the story as relevant.

Honestly, I’m just curious about how long their lines will last.

I've taken some heavy inspiration for the layout of this info page from @lilabella12, whose wonderful Decades Challenge you should really go check out.

Trigger Warnings:

Death (even of children, toddlers and infants) due to a plethora of causes

War

Epi- and pandemics,

Maternal death

Stillbirths

Likely at least mentions of miscarriages

Mentions or depictions of various substance abuses

References to sexual assault/coercion

Religion

Adultery

The sims featured in this likely often just won’t have a good time

[heartofstanding]

Joan of Kent's age

When I was writing up this post on Joan of Kent, I got curious about the question of Joan's age. The year that's typically given is 1328 but Kathryn Warner has argued that it was actually 1326 or 1327, based on the Inquisition Post Mortem for Joan's brother, John, made in 1352. Two entries in the IPM give her age as "25 years and more at St Michael last" and "26 years and more at St. Michael last". Warner concludes that as these two entries are the only ones that give a date - St. Michael being Michaelmas or 29 September - around which Joan's birthday must have fallen, then they must have the correct age for Joan, and then concludes:

Where does that [1328] date come from?  Did someone perhaps once see John's IPM and mess up the maths and think that age 25 or 26 subtracted from 1352 equalled a date of birth in 1328, and everyone else has just copied it ever since without checking?  Or is there some other evidence somewhere I'm missing?

Have historians just being repeating someone's bad maths for decades, too dumb to check the source? Well, no. Come with me on a journey of statistics.

My first thought was Joan's age might have been given in the documents relating to her marriages - which are helpfully transcribed in the appendices of Karl P. Wenterdorf's article on Joan's marriages. Except these only say that Joan was of marriageable age when she married Holland. The canonical age of consent for girls was 12 so Joan would have at least 12 when she married Holland, which would make her born at the latest in 1328. But it didn't make sense that historians would pick this when the reference is so unspecific and Warner is so convinced that the IPM gave us a clearcut answer.

On a whim, I checked out the IPM myself and stopped. The first entry gave her age as "24 years and more". I started scrolling. The answer became obvious. The IPM gives a range of ages from 22 to 26 years and more, which Warner dismisses by claiming the juries would not have never met Joan or know when she was born and just picked random on the basis that all they knew was that she had to be born between 1326 and 1330. But since two give a date around which she could be said to be "25/26 years and more", one of these, according to Warner, must be the correct date of birth.

But the 1328 date comes from the IPM, clear and simple. It is not based on the same logic that Warner uses and it is not a case of "messing up" the maths. It's statistics. Basic statistical analysis.

There are 19 entries that give Joan's age, plus three more that say only "heir as above" [1]. Her age given ranges from 22 to 26, given in turn would mean her birth year ranges from 1326 to 1330. Giving her age as 24 and her birth year as 1328 would put her in the middle of that range. 1328 is also suggested by the frequency by which the age "24 years and more" is given - ten entries out the nineteen entries give that age. Over half. The second-most frequent entry is "26 years and more" at five entries, half that of the entries that give her age as 24 [2]. 22 years and more is given twice. 23 years and more and 25 years and more are only given once each. Here is a chart showing the frequency.

([1] The entries above these give her as 25 years and more once and 24 years and more twice. I have not included these entries in the tally of entries for 24 or 25 years. If I did, the number of entries of 25 years and more would rise to 2 and for 24 years and more, 12. [2] one of the entries that give her age as 26 gives it as "26 years and not more". Rather that counting it separately, I combined it with the "26 years and more".)

The average age based on these entries is 24.3 years of age.

We can narrow Joan's date of birth down further. Her father, Edmund Earl of Kent, was executed on 19 March 1330 and her brother, John, was born just under a month later, on 7 April 1330. Joan is said to have assisted at his baptism so she cannot have been his twin and cannot have been born in 1330. If her birthday did fall around 29 September, she cannot have been born in 1329 either as her mother would have been pregnant with John then. 1328 is the latest year she could be born in, assuming the September birthdate is correct. We don't know when the elder of her two brothers, Edmund, was born only that he had died before October 1331 and like Joan, was a godparent to their younger brother.

Joan's parents married in December 1325, meaning September 1326 is the earliest any child could be born - though this assumes the child was not the result of pre-marital sex. Pre-marital sex was not exactly an uncommon feature in medieval marriages so it is a possibility.

Warner cites another piece of evidence for disregarding the 1328 birthdate. John's proof of age reports:

Edmund son of the said Edmund [Earl of Kent], and Brother John de Grenstede, prior of the order of Friars Preacher of Arundel, and Joan, sister of the said Edmund son of Edmund, lifted the said John from the sacred font on 7 April, 4 Edward III…

Warner concludes that if Joan was born in 1328, it is unlikely that at 18 months, Joan would be considered "old enough and big enough and responsible enough" to lift her newborn brother from the font, even with adult assistance. Maybe, but a similar issue would apply if Joan was 2.5 years old. Perhaps, too, the proof of age should not be read as an exact statement of what happened at John's baptism and the exact wording of Joan "lifting" her newborn brother as a standard turn of phrase than a perfect description of what she did. Both Joan and Edmund would've needed the assistance of adults to act as godparents, though the proof of age does not mention this either. Warner points out that the earliest a child could have been born to their parents was September 1326, which means at either child could be, at most, 3.5 years old. A 3.5 year old wouldn't have been tall enough to reach the font on their own - especially once we take into consideration the forensic evidence that medieval children developed physically slower than modern children.

Another factor, unmentioned by Warner but pointed out by Penny Lawne, is that the direness of the family's situation meant that the newborn John's siblings were playing a very unusual role. Small children were not the typical choice for godparents. This was, after all, just under a month since Edmund, Earl of Kent had been executed and it's likely they were under some kind of house arrest at the time. Edmund and Joan were likely the most suitable choice around - John's other godfather was a prior, a "modest choice" given the family's status. If Joan was 18 months old, it may simply reflect that the family had little alternative.

It is true that two entries in the IPM give Joan's age as "25/26 years and more at St. Michael last." which has generally been taken to suggest Joan was born on or around the feast of St. Michael, i.e. 29 September. Warner assumes that because these two entries are the only ones to be specific about the date, they must be better informed about Joan's birth year.

However, the fact that neither agree on her age suggest that they are not wholly reliable. Furthermore, Warner does not suggest why the locations where this IPM was carried out (Leicester and Nottingham) should be so well informed about Joan's birth and the rest not. We do not know where Joan was born or any details of her birth, such as her godparents, to know if she was born in those locations (Warner herself suggests that if the 1326 date is correct, it's likely Joan was born overseas - which would suggest her birthdate would be incredibly obscure). Nor does it seem like her own proof of age survives to give us these details, or else Warner or Lawne would have cited it.

Warner's final piece of evidence for suggesting that Joan was "rather older" (two years older) and born in 1326 or 1327 is that it would make her "13 or 14" when she married Thomas Holland, as opposed to 12 years of age which is more in keeping with modern sensibilities. Actually, given her birthday was in September and she married Holland in or before May 1340, she would have been 13 at most. Such an argument has no basis in surviving evidence or fact, it is about making modern people more comfortable with the reality of Joan's life. A better argument is that if Joan was born in 1328 the claim made in Holland's petition to the pope that she was of "marriageable age" when they married would be factually incorrect as she would only around 11 years and 8 months old and not yet the canonical age of consent - 12. However, it is possible that Holland fudged the claim and rounded Joan's age up for the purposes of his claim.

*

I don't really know what to think now. I was fairly convinced by Warner's argument that Joan must have been born in 1326 or 1327 but seeing for myself how frequent the age of 24 years is given makes me feel that the 1328 may be far more likely than Warner believes. The theory Warner suggests - that the juries simply guessed at when Joan could be born and came up with a random number - does not readily explain why over half of the juries should randomly pick 24 years of age - double the number of the juries who picked 26 years of age, and ten times the number of the juries who picked 25 years of age. In the end, I do not think the 1328 birthdate can be so readily dismissed - I would say that Joan could have been born in 1326, 1327 or 1328, and unless more evidence is discovered, we will never a definitive answer.

[ao3feed-zukka]

Things Are Different Tonight

Read now on Ao3 at https://ift.tt/MDpFSyg by LemonBalmTea A bit of teasing goes too far, the Gaang are not the most helpful. Sokka is trying his hardest. . . Title from Dream Sweet In C Major Words: 1327, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Sokka (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang (Avatar) Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar) Additional Tags: Panic Attacks, Pre-Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Zuko Needs Therapy (Avatar), Childhood Trauma, They all have it, POV Sokka (Avatar), Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Uncontrolled Firebending Read it on Ao3 at https://ift.tt/MDpFSyg

[allycatcreatethings]

The Acceptance of Adulthood

Chapter 1: Old Memories 

What happened during the time with Finn with his perspective?

I missed the good old memories...

[First - Next - Chapter Index] [Word Count: 1327]

*~ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ~*

Do you know what it’s like to grow up with hyper imagination? I knew that since I was young. It was a wonderful gift to tell stories without getting dispassionate about them. However, real life got in the way, and I had to leave that magical world behind for the night, only to return in the morning.

Some kids played with cars or dolls, but for me, it was Lego. Lego could be anything when you build and create, and you can get the best ideas out there to see them flourish and move. I played with my sets for a long while, creating a cute and delightful world without many rules. 

One time during the night, I sneaked into the basement to see what my father had constructed with his Lego sets downstairs. I felt in awe as I saw another world better than mine. There were flaws and order, but it made it much more fun! The different sets were various locations I could visit and wish to be in. I decided to dedicate myself to making the best story to enjoy and then one day tell it to the rest of the world. 

But my dad never let me play with his sets and told me to play with mine, but after playing the same thing repeatedly, I wanted more.  

I was able to create great storytelling by starting with a villain. Dad always told me not to touch the sets. But my Dad’s rules were too limiting, so he divided the world to never interact with each other again; imagine how the Lego figurines feel about this. 

[It was horrible.]

When I noticed the Lego figurines for the first time, I loved each and made some with some bricks alone, like Princess Unikitty. I wanted my old world to be where she ruled over and called it Cloud Cuckoo Land, but I knew if I wanted to improve the story, I had to eliminate my old world to create a new, better one. 

I feel like they are alive while playing with the Lego figurines. They are real people in their world, but they can’t interact or see me.

Each of their personalities was easy to make, and the narrative usually took off without me.

The Lego figurine drawn towards me the most was a construction worker. He already had a name on his printed leg piece, and his name was Emmet. There was nothing about Emmet that made him stand out from his other workers. I thought of the last name Brickowski because I thought it was clever, with the word brick in it.

But he was special to me. I put myself into the little guy, but even the worker became his own Lego person. I also did that with my Dad with Lord/President Business, but I have yet to tell him. He may not like it if I put him in the villain role.

One day during play, when Emmet fell onto the floor, I thought he was alive. I didn’t realize at first he was there; I think I stepped on him by mistake.

I think Emmet can see me. But he could move, but minimal. I guess my imagination was running wild. That was also when Dad finally saw my story and almost destroyed it. I can hear Emmet screaming for help or in pain, seeing his friend almost losing. I felt the same way; I was only a kid then. That’s what I imagined, at least. 

[But you are blind to seeing reality, Finn.]

I encountered a problem: What happens if a Lego person falls onto the floor? I can not place them back; you must cross a barrier to return them home like another world. I thought of many ways but came back to a portal. It was manageable; I had tested it and hoped it worked. That is what I believe in, like that cat poster on the wall.

To get my story back on track, I distracted my dad and saved Emmet with the lid of the Kragle. I gave him one last goodbye and placed him back into his world. I felt like I had lost a friend, and they moved away, but it has to be that way.

After that, something clicked in my Dad to change, and he allowed me to play with his sets. It felt like magic, like the special one did it. I was delighted that my story could continue until Dad told me my sister could play. Everything went into a nightmare pretty quickly as my sister threw my story off course; everything changed in my real life and reflected in the new narrative I created. Well, except Emmet. I changed, but he did not. Nothing in my power could change him, no matter how much I tried. 

Then, when my sister took his friends away, I wanted to get them back, and in the process, I lost Emmet. I had lost myself in the story.

I created the character Rex, and he felt it was me similarly, but I modified it to be more like the older me rather than a younger, naive version of my past. But I felt my anger come in, and I had enough of everything. I destroyed Bianca’s palace, but the consequence was Mom coming in and telling us to put Legos away forever, for real, this time.

I was heartbroken; my story was gone, and for the first time, I only saw my sister hurt without the narrative, and it hit me like Lego bricks crashing down. Somehow, I became a monster of my creation and didn’t know what to do. I comforted my sister, and she and I felt compelled to open the box again to rebuild the relationship. I heard the Lego figurines singing, but my sister couldn’t listen. I just thought it was my mind playing tricks on me. 

[But you listen anyway. They are just toys; why are you so attached to the plastics?]

I search for the Lego pieces for the heart and build them together again. I wanted to restart everything again with my sister and make an even better world for them!

But then, I realized I had to rescue Emmet from the true villain.

[You always need your main character. Hmm, who is the real villain?]

I picked up Wyldstyle and started to locate them. I felt horrible, but Rex had to go; I couldn’t be him anymore, so I let him disappear from the story. He was not dead; however, Vitruvius’ death was already hard to handle, and Emmet could even see his ghost occasionally. Killing a character removes the story they want to tell and the ideas they have with them.

Emmet became a monster he should not be, but I tried to let Emmet one last goodbye. Rex was an adult I never wanted to grow up as, and I had to get rid of him peacefully; that made sense in the story. 

[And yet you regret removing him from the story anyway.]

It’s been about five years since the last big adventure the Lego Figures had, but I still consider them for their story—my narrative. I had tried to grow up and learn to drive, cook, and be responsible like most adults. Why is it so hard to do sometimes?

[So tedious, so exhausting.]

I still hate the idea of adulthood. Why did you have to discard your childhood self before becoming an adult? 

[Because you are afraid of change, let go of the past.]

But things are about to change, I know it. Maybe for the better, but I hope not for the worse. After all, it’s just a story. I keep asking questions, and the answers are in play or games. I wish they were genuine and weren’t in my head. I just want my hero I can look up to, Emmet Brickowski.

[OUR HERO]

*~ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ~*

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

were made of stars and stuff

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/68XsGAx by eldritchqueer It’s just dysphoria, he admits, against his better judgment. Tim’s typing bubbles take a minute to appear. Dysphoria’s a bitch, he says. Remember we’re more than corporeal. And it’s okay to struggle. Martin’s struggling with dysphoria. Jon and Tim intervene. Words: 1327, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives) Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Trans Martin Blackwood, Martin Blackwood Needs a Hug, Gender Dysphoria, Protective Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Eating Disorders, Trans Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Martin Blackwood Makes Tea, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, HRT, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Loves Martin Blackwood, Martin Blackwood Loves Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Self-Esteem Issues, a love letter to my fellow trans people read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/68XsGAx