#Consider The Benefits

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

I have awoken from sleep to be really silly and considered a PrisonTrio Anastasia movie AU

Quackity wants to Get Rich and Get Out Of Here. Sam wants to impress Ponk again after their failed relationship. Dream would really just like a family after a lifetime of loneliness. Together they are absolute disasters who can't be normal about each other for five minutes. Includes:

that cool dream/nightmare sequence features Sapnap and George, who were Dreams childhood friends and absolutely killed during the uprising because they wouldn't tell their captors where Dream escaped to. When Dream gets his memory back he Totally Has No Trauma About That.

yes Quackity was the servant boy who helped Dream escaped. No he doesn't have any feelings about that. Shut the fuck up.

Sam is the one who makes sure Dream doesn't get pulled off the boat, and he spends the rest of the night holding onto Dream and refusing to let go because What If Something Happens He Needs To Be On Watch

Dream really doesn't have any idea why Quackity and this pink haired guy are arguing but Quackity is obviously terrified, even if he's taking great pains to look unaffected. And yeah, Quackity is a pain in the ass, but Dream still cares about him dammit, so really it's only natural to step in between them.

Dream is the same height as Techno, Quackity realizes. Except whereas Techno is built like a truck, well muscled through years of training, Dream is half starved, spindly and lean, like a tree that should have died its first winter but just kept fucking going. He glares at Techno, and Techno is taken aback.

Dreams hair is Just Long Enough to make a small ponytail at the base of his neck, and he keeps it tied there. Quackity is strangely focused on it, keeps complaining that it looks stupid and that Dream should cut it. When he finally snaps and kisses Dream, he tugs it out of his tail and gets his fingers tangled in it, tugging every which way just to hear Dream moan.

Sam is Not jealous of Quackity and Dream dancing together. He is Not eager for the times they get to share a bed so he can cuddle them close and nuzzle them. He is totally focused on Ponk, what are you talking about?

Ponk and him have an actual talk that isn't anger or shouting or waking up to a cold bed and a letter in red ink, and Ponk reveals she's seeing someone else. They get their closure, but she's moved on, and she gives him a kiss on the forehead and asks him to do the same. She walks off to dance with Foolish at the ball, and Sam goes to search for the people he's been fixated on since they started this mess

Dream is obviously pissed Quackity lied to him and tried to trick an old lady into accepting a fake grandchild for money because yeah, fraud is cool and all, but the woman sounds obviously fucking heartbroken her kid is dead, and Quackity Does Not Want To Be Having This Conversation For So Many Reasons. Dream he's just a silly little tax evader :[ and he realized you were Actually The Prince, It's Real Don't Be Mad (Dream is still mad)

However with the power of Yelling At Old People and Other Illegal Activities, Quackity makes sure Dream still gets his family back and then goes to get really, really drunk about it because now he has to deal with No Dream No Money And Who Even Knows Where Sam Went (Probably back to Ponk, which just makes the horrible feelings worse and he is just drinking from the whole bottle at this point)

Dream… Doesn't actually want the whole being royalty part, he just really wanted to be surrounded by people he loved. Where are those people what happened to them (One is at a bar being pathetic and one is freaking out attempting to find said bar)

oh cool we're fighting Rasputin now

Sam drives a car into him, so he's dead now.

Dream and Sam and Quackity are very bad at talking about their feelings, but somehow they manage to choke out something coherent, and then they go to live at one of the Queen's summer homes, where they proceed to be very bad at feelings for the rest of their lives

[stars-obsession-pit]

Mutual “Adult Supervision”

Danny Fenton may age, but his ghost form sure doesn’t. He’s an adult in his civilian life, but his hero form is perpetually 14. Which isn’t that big of a deal, but it is annoying how people outside of Amity keep treating him like a child when he’s trying to help.

Then he meets Captain Marvel, who is his inverse. An actual kid who transforms into an adult body for hero work.

And they have a genius idea: they can become each other’s “adult supervision” for things!

Danny Fenton can act as the “adoptive father” to Billy Batson for civilian matters, while Captain Marvel can act as the “mentor” to Phantom for hero work!

Now people will finally stop bothering them!

Edited because oops i made a pretty major typo - i originally accidentally wrote that he didn’t age in his “human form” instead of “ghost form”, which was the opposite of what i meant, so i corrected it just now

[danielnelsen]

while i get where this comes from and it’s true to an extent, i reeeaaaally don’t like how people try to explain “trans men don’t [necessarily] have male privilege” with things like “some trans men don’t pass”.

like sure that’s the most obvious example (someone who is seen as a woman won’t have the privilege that comes with being seen a man) but you’re still acting like being a passing trans man is just a free opt-in to male privilege which is………kinda the issue.

[guqin-and-flute]

Something about the fact that these shots are all grouped together, one after another, visually giving them equal weight just gets me. The narrative knows what's going to happen between JGY and Huaisang at this point, knows how it's going to treat JGY at the end of everything. And it still takes time to show Meng Yao instinctively and immediately going in front of Huaisang and Huaisang instinctively and immediately hiding behind him. It takes the time--literally, showed it in the background and focused on it with the same general amount of time as the other shots--to show that this act of protection and trust are just as real and true as Jiang Cheng defending his sister, as Wen Qing defending her younger brother.

Like, I dunno! There are other Nie juniors there! They have swords and shit! Huaisang could have gone and hid behind the wall, but he hid behind Meng Yao! And Meng Yao could have moved back with Huaisang, but he steps directly in front of him!

There's a lot CQL did to JGY's character and narrative that I don't like and that flatten or just straight up erase his full complexity. But I really appreciate the lengths that it went to in Episode 4 to explicitly tell us that he does not hesitate to protect Huaisang, even though at this point he does not have a sword and definitely does not have anywhere near the same cultivation power (if any) as any of the rest of the people in the room.

Right now, after being publicly humiliated, unarmed and definitely outclassed, he is brave. Along with the rest of the characters, he's allowed to be uncomplicatedly young and loyal and just as innocent as any of the other students there.

[alchemistc]

won't make my mama proud

read on ao3

Buck's just gonna say it. He's not gonna be cagey about it. He's not gonna make it weird. Everyone important doesn't need an announcement, they'll - they'll see him, and they'll understand, and Buck will get to enjoy himself.

His parents are the wildcard.

"E- Buck," his mom starts, brow furrowed as she looks at the seating chart. She's getting better at catching herself, and it's small fries but it's not nothing. "Why did George get moved to table seven?"

He'd been a little giddy, sitting at Maddie's kitchen table with the seating chart out, the tips of his ears bright red and the smile refusing to leave his face, basking in the little hip-shake arm-wave dance Maddie'd done when he asked if she could fit a plus one in.

Buck honestly couldn't remember who they'd moved to make it work, but it'd made the most sense - Tommy knew Bobby and Athena, he knew Karen and Eddie and Marisol, he wouldn't have to sit with a table of strangers who didn't even know a "George" anyway.

His mom's eyes flit to the extended family table, where Tommy has been tucked in between Eddie and Denny. He'd made the place card himself, intent to match the script from the printers, tongue sticking out as he swooped the 'Y' out in gold Sharpie on a piece of leftover cardstock cut to match.

"Uh - I'm bringing a date, after all," Buck says, and he watches his mom slide through names, a mental list of people she vaguely knows of. The Marisol thing had been a point of contention - extended family meant family to Margaret and Phillip Buckley, and they'd already made an exception to let Chim include Eddie and his son at that particular table. They'd acted like the relationship to the bride and the groom was going to be hovering over the top of each table. So. She knows the name Marisol. She knows Athena and Bobby. Knows Karen.

The list of potential dates is growing smaller by the minute and clearly it's not computing.

He's just gonna rip the bandaid off. "His name is Tommy. My date."

Once upon a time, he'd have taken an opportunity like this to make sure he was the center of fucking attention for as long as he possibly could be. Maybe drive home the point that his parents didn't know him as well as they claimed they did. Definitely press their buttons, see if he could invite a reaction out of them.

Now he waves off his mother's confused silence. "I already ran it by Maddie and Chim, they know him." Sort of. It's too complicated to explain to his parents, right now. Maybe if the dancing goes well, at the reception. Maybe once he's snuck about fifty more kisses in.

"Buck, you can't bring a friend as a plus one to your sister's wedding."

He doesn't see why not, really, but that's - very much not the point. Oh. Oh yeah, that's a little painful. He gets why Tommy'd slammed the brakes, now, when he'd stuck his foot in it.

"Good thing he's my date, then, mom."

Even after all this time, he always feels like he's one bad interaction away from laying into his parents, but he tempers it. This isn't really about him, or them. This is about Maddie's wedding, which is two days away and doesn't need the distraction of the brides family having it out. Again.

"What do you mean?" she asks, and - her defensive voice always sounds like she's expecting a direct attack, teeth at her jugular and she's too frail to stop it. He's always hated the way she does that, because it always makes her sound like the victim of a heinous crime when half the time she's just trying to deny something she's been accused of.

Buck takes a deep breath through his nose. "Tommy. He's my date to the wedding. Once we've all eaten and toasted at the reception he'll be the one I'm getting drinks for, he'll be the one I'm introducing to Maddie's work friends, he'll be the one I'm dancing with." He'll be the one I'm going home with, Buck doesn't say, even if he really fucking wants to. He'd gotten a dick pic for the first time last night that had rocked his entire fucking world and he's very ready to explore the realities of finally understanding he's attracted to the male form in a sexual way.

She goes through what seems like all the stages of grief at once. Not unexpected, but still kinda shitty to witness. But she's - they're both better. His parents are trying. He'll give them that. She shores up a PTA mom smile.

"Oh. I didn't know you... Well I just didn't know."

"It's new," he says, because now doesn't feel like the time to tell her he's been analyzing old friendships for weeks now, that his penchant for trying to create deep bonds with men he admires has taken on a new meaning to him. He doesn't want to get into the conversation he'd had with Tommy two nights ago, Tommy laughing but understanding as Buck regaled him with the tale of how he'd followed the varsity kicker around like a lost puppy for most of his junior year and he'd only just figured out why. "Tommy used to work at the 118, though, so he's not exactly a stranger."

He doesn't really feel like giving her more than that. It's new to him, too, it's new and fragile and it's settling warm in his gut, this feeling like he finally knows the way to make a proper chili is to add some unsweetened cocoa powder. The recipe works without it but it was never quite right, until the secret ingredient got thrown in.

"You'll have to introduce us," his mom says, and Buck thinks about it - about the way Tommy will internalize the confused looks his parents try to hide, and the way Buck will want to curl tighter around him because of it, the way he'll want to shrink under the force of his parents never quite getting him and how he knows, he knows Tommy won't let him shrink.

"Yeah," he says, and his mind goes back to thinking of Tommy in a suit.

Tommy with a button undone that turns into three by the third song, Tommy fiddling with cufflinks, Tommy with suspenders, Tommy's ass in a pair of crisp tapered trousers. Buck wonders if he's an ankle sock with dress shoes guy.

His mom turns back to her trove of little gift bags, plastic crinkling as she ties another finished one off. He's - it feels a bit like he's waiting for a shoe to drop, sitting there next to her as her hands continue to pull jute twine from its roll in even six inch lengths, cutting them, twisting bags and tying them off.

Their hands meet the next time he slides a pile of filled bags over to her -- a bubble jar, three Jordan almonds, four Kisses, a quarter inch of crinkle paper on the bottom. Buck goes to move his hand back and her soft, wrinkled hand reaches out to pat his knuckles before she returns to her twine.

-----

He picks up Tommy's call when he's halfway home. "Hey," he says, and he knows Tommy can hear the smile in his voice. He can't bring himself to care.

"Hey. Did you already eat at your sisters?"

"No, my parents took Jee out to dinner so Maddie and Chim could have the night before Maddie imposes her weird twenty-four hour no contact rule."

"You Buckley's," Tommy says, and there's something fond in his voice that makes Buck's heart squeeze, just a bit. "I know I'll see you tomorrow night, but I thought, if you're not busy --."

"I'm not busy," Buck interrupts, and Tommy's little chuff of a laugh echoes back at him.

"Maybe I'm about to ask you to detail my truck for me."

Buck's still trying to find the right way to word his thoughts about armor-all and gear shafts when Tommy cuts across them.

"Low hanging fruit, Evan," he warns, even though he can't have possibly known what Buck was thinking.

"I was thinking about the twig, not the berries," Buck shoots back, and Tommy groans.

"You have sufficient evidence not to call it a twig."

"Which is why I was trying to compare it to the gear shift, before you derailed that train of thought."

"Do you wanna come over for dinner or not, Evan Buckley?"

Buck taps his thumbs on the steering wheel, does a little jig in his seat, tries not to smile so wide that he scares the driver next to him as he coasts to a stop at a red light.

"Are the berries on the menu?"

"The stick shift too, if you're lucky."

"This metaphor is getting a little murky."

"If you wanted to stop for shitty burgers I wouldn't mind," Tommy admits, voice softening, and Buck is already trying to plot out the best route to In-N-Out from here to Tommy's. "If you think of a way to make an Animal Style innuendo you are not getting into my pants tonight."

"I'll stick with the hot meat puns, then."

Tommy laughs, bright and loud, goofy like he can't quite control it, and Buck settles into his seat, flipping his blinker to get into the turn lane so he can double back a few blocks.

"You far enough away I can hop in the shower without telling you where I keep my hide-a-key?"

"Yeah, but maybe you should tell me anyway."

Tommy hums, and something settles under Buck's skin when Tommy gives him a frankly ridiculous set of instructions that no first responder is ever gonna follow in an emergency when they could just kick the door in, dispatch instructions be damned.

It's far too early in this, but Buck's pretty sure he's deep enough in this that it wouldn't weird him out if Tommy told him to keep the spare. He doesn't, and Buck doesn't mind, but it's there, in the back of his mind, that feeling like they're both in this for the long haul.

"Hey, I told my mom you're coming as my plus one," Buck says into the comfortable silence that drifts over the line. Tommy knows the bare minimum about his family, really, but he knows that's significant all the same.

"How did that...go?" And Buck keeps forgetting that Tommy wasn't always confidently out, that he's experienced the coming out conversation with a lot worse results than Buck's experienced, so far.

"She was mostly weirded out that you made George move to table seven," Buck jokes, because he's not sure he's fully unpacked how he feels about it yet, and Tommy - Tommy gets that.

"If I'm stepping on toes, I don't mind sitting with all the weird singles and estranged aunts, Evan," Tommy assures, for the twentieth time.

"You're sitting with the people I want you to be sitting with," Buck reminds him, and hopes he understands the part of that that Buck doesn't know how to say out loud yet.

"Noted," he says, that same tone as when he met Buck for coffee, a few weeks ago now, the weight of understanding the things between the lines.

"Go shower," Buck tells him, and tries not to let his imagination run too wild at the thought. "I'll see you in a bit."

Tommy doesn't immediately respond, and Buck can imagine him on the other side of the call, debating whether or not to make the dumb joke about detailing his gear stick himself. He clearly has better impulse control than Buck. "See you soon," he says after a beat, and hangs up before Buck can draw him back in.

[naamahdarling]

Labor, on its own, has no inherent value. The willingness or ability to labor does not translate to virtue. It can confer financial value, since everyone should be compensated for their labor, but it absolutely does not have inherent moral value.

Disabled people are not obligated to perform for you. They are not required, morally, to break themselves in order to earn some sort of personal value and prove their "worth" to society. They do not need to exhaust every possible means of survival to warrant aid, or spend the entirety of their existence pursuing the same amount of production as others even though it takes everything they have and leaves no room for anything else. They are not obligated to push their limits.

If that pisses you off because YOU have to work to the limit, or beyond, your problem is that you are not being paid enough or you are being asked to do the work of more than one person. Not that disabled people get help for "nothing".

You deserve better, too, you lovable dingus! Every single thing that benefits disabled people will benefit you and the ones you love, either immediately, or eventually. All of it!

[yardsards]

some people on here make Hating All Social Rules such an obnoxiously large part of their personality that you could say "it is polite to avoid farting in a crowded elevator if you can help it" and they'd call you an oppressive puritan who hates the incontinent

[serpentface]

An interaction between Kulyos, the legendary founding hero of the collective Hill Tribes, and the wildfolk witch Bernike, as depicted in folklore.

The collective Hill Tribes all descended from a single population (informally called Kulyites) who migrated south across the Viper seaway from what is now Finnerich, prior to their written history. Here, they found themselves in a new landscape and in both conflict and cooperation with its preexisting inhabitants (a broad collection of tribes, many of which would eventually coalesce into the Wardi and Wogan peoples).

The detail of why this ancestral group fled their homeland depends on the specific tradition. In some cases, it’s a cultural non-issue- they’re here now, have been for hundreds of years, and will be here for hundreds more. In other cases, they describe a local war, a famine, barbarian invaders from the northwest (likely Dain-speakers, possibly a distant leg of the first Burri empire, maybe both), or a combination of all three. All sources agree that cattle and horses were brought on ships with the migrants, though they differ on whether they already had a khait riding tradition or if this (or khait themselves) were adopted from the native population.

The Kulyites were small in number and had neither the power to gain territory by force or negotiation, thus having to settle in some of the few uninhabited territories, the rocky highlands of the northwest. These were difficult lands, far from ideal for farming and grazing, and much of the founding mythology surrounds the first Kulyites learning the ways of this new land and how to thrive where no one had before.

It is said that this original group was led by a young chieftain named Kulyos (this name comes directly from the word 'kulys', the thick mountain plant with yellow flowers seen here, which is important in the regional diet for its fruits and use in tea, and as a symbol of hardiness). He is credited with leading his people to their current lands, establishing many of their core traditions and ways of life, and settling conflicts with the local mountain spirits, thus allowing for his descendants to live there to this day.

Kulyos is very likely to be a based on a real person (possibly the actual chieftain of the original Kulyites, but more likely one of their sons or grandsons), but the details of his life are lost, his history interwoven with myth and allegory. He is usually characterized as well humored and supremely wily, a good leader and beloved by his people, overcoming most challenges with cunning and cooperation rather than brute force. He is wise in the ways of the mountain gods and spirits, and often escapes trouble by means of proper respect to the gods and calculated (if risky) dealings with spirits. He is a mostly venerable figure, but often cast as comically flawed (notably, being lecherous and prone to lying).

One of the most popular and widespread legends is his theft of the wildfolk witch Bernike’s deer and magic cloak.

---

Bernike was the greatest sorcerer of all the Wildfolk, unmatched in power and likened to a god. Her secret was her feather cloak, obtained in a pact with the storm goddess Ariakh and made from the goddess' very own black feathers. Ariakh agreed to provide Bernike with great power in return for routine sacrifice of fine livestock which her sons, the winds, would tend among the clouds. (This likely references practices of some of the proto-Wardi, who may have venerated a form of Ariakh in similar ways). The other condition was that all of Bernike’s magic arts would be contained within the feather cloak, making her powerless without this artifact (this would prevent her from challenging the goddess herself- being made from her body, it could not be used against her).

Bernike ruled over the highest mountain, which had a small pass critical to travel in the area, and took glee in torment of the new human additions to the region. The best grazing in the highlands was upon Bernike's foothills, and this was where the Kulyites settled. In their herding and trading, they would often have to traverse her mountain pass, and she would stop them and demand tribute (usually in form of cattle).

The reason for Bernike's demands was her herd of a hundred scimitar deer, her greatest prizes. These deer were magical in nature- strong enough to be used as mounts and plow animals, faster and more surefooted than any other hooved animal, and their milk could cure disease and impart longevity in those who partook (Bernike herself was over 5,000 years old and as spry as ever). Now that new people with cattle, khait, and horses had entered her lands, Bernike had a new source of livestock for the goddess and no longer would have to offer up her own precious herd.

She would be greedy and merciless with the settlers, demanding exorbitant offerings and inflicting them with terrible curses when they refused. The people all learned to live in fear of her, but had no other option but to submit to her demands in order to pass through her mountain.

After a few years of this, Kulyos had grown quite tired of her demands on his people, and aimed to level the playing field. He had his wife, Brunil (herself a major character in this mythos), disguise herself and take a herd of cattle and ox-drawn cart through the pass. Bernike, of course, appeared and demanded tribute- the woman would only be allowed to pass if she gave the witch her choice of two of her finest cattle, and otherwise would be turned into a biting fly. Perhaps a sparrow, if she was lucky.

Brunil sorrowfully conceded, and begged that Bernike at least be quick about making her choice. Brunil said she was on her way to her sister's wedding, down in the village to the south of the pass. The cattle were to be a gift, and she also had a cask of the finest mead with her that needed to be delivered on time for the ceremonies.

Just as planned, Bernike immediately lost interest in the cattle and instead demanded the mead. Brunil put on a great show of hesitation and sorrow, but eventually relented and allowed the sorceress to take the entire cask. Brunil was allowed to travel onward (‘my sister will be so disappointed’), while Bernike eagerly set about drinking.

Kulyos had followed his wife from a distance and now watched and waited in a copse of trees. The witch drank enough mead to kill a man before she even began to get tipsy, and drank enough to kill two more before she fell into a deep, drunken slumber.

Kulyos then crept up upon her and took the cloak from her unconscious body, donning it over his shoulders. He then approached her deer, which did not flee, recognizing the scent of their master. He mounted on back of one of the bucks, and used it to drive the rest of the herd back down the mountains.

The next morning, Bernike awoke on the hillside, finding herself without her cloak, robbed of her deer, and with a nasty hangover.

She was outraged. This was not the first time she had dealt with Kulyos, and she recognized his scent in the air. She knew exactly who had robbed her. If she were in full power, she could have hunted Kulyos down and turned him into a flea, or made him impotent, or given him dysentery with a mere wave of the hand. Without her cloak, she was powerless, having no magic at all and no more physical capability than any other small (unusually spry, 5000 year old) woman.

She finally relented and contacted Ariakh herself, expecting the goddess to be furious at the theft. Ariakh was indeed furious, but not so much at Kulyos. The man had shown nothing but the proper respect to her, and she was unwilling to punish him for his deed. It was Bernike's failure, and would be up to Bernike herself to put things right. Still, as a favor to her most devoted follower, Ariakh agreed to give Bernike one of her magical arts back to help her along- the power of shapeshifting.

Back in the village, the deer were already showing their worth. Just two bucks had been put to the plow, and they had turned a field in three hours that would have taken an oxen three days. The animals were docile towards their new owner, even letting themselves be milked, and this was the most delicious milk any had ever tasted and could be fermented into the finest of murre.

Kulyos was quite pleased with his theft, but knew this would not be the end of things, and he kept the cloak on his person day and night. He took great care of it, and left out offerings of murre to Ariakh each night that he had it in his possession, to show his continued and utmost respect for the goddess he may have insulted as a byproduct of his theft. He went about his life, always watching and waiting for Bernike's inevitable return.

And so she came, though she was crafty and subtle, and did not make herself obvious. She first took the form of a bat and attempted to fly in through his window and take the cloak as he slept, only to find herself entangled. Those familiar with the legends would know that Kulyos had already bargained with the queen of the spiders to send some of her children into his village, who had cast their webs over the windows and happily ate all the bothersome flies and mosquitoes that had previously plagued his people. Humiliated and harassed by hungry spiders, Bernike fled.

The next day, she took the form of a viper, perfectly camouflaged and waiting in the grass to bite him as he tended to his herds. Kulyos indeed approached, but it was his little son who came near to Bernike. No matter, she thought. She would bite his son and seize the cloak when Kulyos tended to his child's wounds. Ariakh herself was offended at the aggression towards the child, innocent of Kulyos' crime and for whom he had prayed protection, and she sent a crested eagle (a snake eater) to swoop straight overhead.

Kulyos wisely realized a serpent must be in the area, and told his son to stay still. He used his spear to part the grasses in search of it, and at the sight of snake-Bernike, pulled back to stab her. In her panic, Bernike changed shape into a gazelle and fled, thus revealing herself and losing the element of surprise. Now, Kulyos knew for sure that she was after him, and knew she would come in the form of an animal.

Bernike was not stupid, she knew she had lost her advantage. So she waited a month for him to let his guard down, and took the form of a huge, beautiful aurochs bull, trotting and bellowing among Kulyos’ cows as if looking to mate. Surely he would be tempted by such a handsome and valuable animal, and she could take the cloak from him when he got close. And it seemed to have worked, for he excitedly approached with a lasso and slung it around her neck, speaking softly and soothingly as one would to such a wild prize. But instead of trying to lead her off, he tied the other end of the rope around a tree and walked away.

Bernike waited patiently for his return, no doubt in her mind that he was simply getting assistance in leading such a powerful animal away. Instead, Kulyos came back alone, leading his own prized bull (the giant white beast, Pyliod) along with him. As soon as Pyliod caught sight of what he perceived to be a rival bull, he became enraged, and charged at Bernike. She was chased around the tree ten times before she turned into a lion to face him down. The great bull was only more enraged at the sight of a predator, and chased her ten times more (and giving her a nasty jab in the hind, she is said to still bear the scars) before she gave up, turning into a sparrow to slip the rope and flying away. (The trunk of this tree still stands today, with the frayed remnants of an ancient rope around its base).

Now, Bernike waited another month, and took the form of a beautiful young woman, barely-dressed in riverfolk garb and tempting him from the edge of a creek. This attempt would have worked, but Brunil herself, quite annoyed, interceded by chasing the girl away with her staff and giving her husband a stern reprimanding. (“I knew it was her,” Kulyos insisted. "I had a plan.")

Finally, Bernike threw subtlety to the wind and took the form of a huge king hyena, the most powerful beast in the land, and came rampaging into the village. All the people feared this great animal, and even the most powerful warriors would hesitate to approach such a beast head-on. But Kulyos had known the witch would lose her temper at some point or another from the very beginning, and had tasked all the mothers and young children in the village with weaving a great net, so wide as to hold the largest beast, and so finely woven that not even a flea could escape.

Seeing the beast approach, he called to his his three daughters to fetch the net. He stood at the center of the village as bait, running and dodging from the beast while his daughters prepared the trap between two huts. His eldest, Aylian, whistled her signal, and Kulyos ran straight for the net, diving through the small space beneath. The witch in catform was far too big for such a maneuver and barreled right into the net, and Kulyos and his daughters wrapped it around her, trapping her in its clutches.

She fought the net with everything she had, turning into everything she knew how- a great bull, a lion, a tremendous riverdrake, a giant leviathan, a tiny songbird, a mosquito, and so on, but there was nothing she could do to break through. Finally, she turned back into her original shape, a tiny, bearded old woman, and demanded Kulyos approach.

He offered her a deal. If she would swear an oath in front of Ariakh herself of nonretribution and to end her demands of tribute from his people, he would return the cloak and all but two of her precious deer (a doe and stag), and his people would leave offerings of mead and murre at her pass every year on this day to grant them safe passage. Utterly defeated (and finding this offer quite appealing, in spite of her wounded pride), Bernike agreed, and called the great goddess forth.

Ariakh descended in the form of a dragon (a legendary beast with the head of a horned serpent and body of a bird), alighting on the roof of a hut. She plucked a single, massive feather from her breast and threw it to the ground, and Kulyos and Bernike both laid hands on it and swore their oaths. A vow before a goddess would have unspeakable consequences if broken, even for such a mighty sorcerer as Bernike.

Bernike donned her cloak and took her favorite form, that of a gigantic gray eagle. She took to the sky with a fearsome screech, circling the village three times, and then led all but two of her deer, a stag and a doe, back into the mountains.

And with this, the conflict was ended.

---

These deer are said to have become a great boon to the Kulyites. The herds they produced were eventually lost to the people and none of the Hill Tribes have herded deer ever since (that's another story), but their impact lives on. Being magical animals, they could breed not only with each other, but with khait, and produced the small, hardy khait stock still used as mounts and plow animals by the people to this day.

Bernike had only sworn nonretribution and an end to the tributes from Kulyos' people, but she did not swear to never harm them again, and as such all people who claim descent from the Kulyites avoid her mountaintop to this very day (with many more legends describing the consequence to those that do not), and are always sure to bring their yearly offerings of mead and murre to ensure continued safe usage of her pass.

Bernike also only swore to end tribute from his people, and other legends involve her stopping entire invading armies from navigating her pass with (often mischievous and utterly impossible) demands of tribute, and great consequences when these demands are not met.

Bernike is an ambiguous figure in the cultural schema, being feared and respected, an annoyance in her neutrality in (or active inflaming of) conflicts between the Hill Tribes, but credited as a protector of the collective peoples of the highlands. She is often cited as one of the reasons that neither the Burri empires nor the contemporary Wardi empire have ever seized the inner highlands, and no invader ever will.

[glitterarygetsit]

Why do you comment?

Was discussing fic commenting practices with a friend the other day, and realised we both comment on things for different underlying reasons. So I thought it might be interesting to make a poll about it! Why do you comment? Do you see it as a one-on-one interaction with the author, or as a way of supporting the community? Is it a form of payment or the start of a dialogue?

I think there are a lot of different and valid attitudes to this, and I’m curious to see what different readers’ thought processes are! I’m sure that for most readers, multiple of these answers apply—try to pick the one that feels most important to you, and please do expand on them in the tags if you like!

[fcstellae]

how people treat franziska in aa2 is a litmus test for how u treat women in media i think bc yes shes irrational and shes angry and shes mean to phoenix. she thinks her brothers dead. she thinks phoenix is responsible for that. not only does she think her brother is dead her father is recently arrested and has been disgraced and her entire world is flipped upside down and shes in a foreign country and shes barely 18 and her brother is dead and her fathers in jail for murder and she's the only von karma left. of course her only thought is revenge on the person who's caused it all. how would you react in that situation?

((also imo people are way too serious about the whole whip thing. Ace Attorney is a game with slapstick violent humor. It's supposed to make you laugh. She's not abusing Phoenix, the source material is making a joke. What's important to note is that AA's writing is very sexist at times and of course it's not treating her or her feelings seriously. But no one takes issue when Godot throws very hot coffee in Phoenix's face, or when Pearl hits Phoenix so hard he passes out, because they know it's the games comedy. So what's the difference when Franziska does it?))

[haliteatiger]

Happy Werewolf Wednesday, ya'll! We're serving up a big pot of tea tonight so get those cups ready!

Special thanks to Blackbackedjackal and King for their help in putting this together, editing, and especially to Jackal for being so supportive and encouraging. I'm very much not normally the type to do call-out posts, but people need to be aware of Dogblud, as she has hurt, not only myself, but quite a few others as well, and seems to have somehow gotten away with behaving like this for 20-odd years. I'm of the mind she shouldn't be allowed to do so any more, hence this post.

TL;DR - Beware of Dogblud, aka Ashryn, aka DogofBlud, aka ThatDogMagic. Very, very long post under the cut.

With everything happening with DogBlud and Blackbackedjackal's studio, I felt emboldened to come forward with my own experiences with her. This is something I've been carrying around since it happened roughly 2 years ago. It was one of the main reasons that put me off drawing werewolves, my own characters, or engaging any more in the fandom. I've hinted at it a few times but I've never had the energy to come forward and deal with the fall out. I wanted to move on with the rest of my life because IRL was more important than online drama. And I knew her behavior would come back to bite her sooner or later, regardless of what I did. 

It's been very validating to see that I was right.

It was around the time that Blud and I became friends that I was feeling a bit burnt out on werewolves. I'd been trying to pull together my own werewolf-related project for something close to 12 years. The past 4 years had also been pretty draining on me creatively and socially, as it had for a lot of artists with regards to the pandemic. I also had some IRL things I was dealing with: mainly with my marriage and transitioning between medications to manage my anxiety + bipolar.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the foresight to screenshot everything at the time. I do have logs from back when we roleplayed together. There are several conversations in them but because they were saved as text documents, they're pretty dubious in terms of solid evidence. 

It would have been better if I had taken screenshots as it was happening, rather than just saving the logs. With what I *do* have, however, I feel as though it may be enough to make the point that I'm trying to make, and to exhibit how horrible things got.

I'll provide some context.

I had talked with Blud on and off over the years, and we had always gotten along. We had a lot in common and after we had started talking more, our friendship eventually grew into a collaborative project. We were going to combine our stories and write a comic based on it. We had a lot of discussions on how Blud was reticent to do this in the beginning and how she wanted a contract to be made up so that in the event that something *did* happen, we could both walk away feeling like it was handled fairly.

Honestly, I should have listened to the first alarm that went off in my brain, when, in an act of ominous foreboding she said something along the lines of don't be so sure, it could happen. It was in response to me being like "we're getting along so well and share so much of a bond right now. I can't fathom that being a problem!" 

The contract never materialized. It was something we had decided to do *after* we had put together something of a prototype project to see how well we worked together. It made complete sense to me at the time as we were both eager to focus on the fun parts of writing and drawing together.

It was decided that I would be the lead artist (doing coloring and final lines) while Blud would do everything else (which was inking, layouts, and the majority of the writing). The both of us felt that she had more experience in those areas. I also believed that she had a better knack for it as well. I had felt that she had a better understanding of story structure than myself. And I thought that Blud had felt the same way about my art. That I had the experience to take point on that. 

Since I had collaborated with other artists and writers before, I attempted to approach the project with the same sort of professionalism I always do. Especially the projects that I genuinely thought stood a chance of being published in the future. We had started out trying to get a feel for each other's flows and rhythms. I had expected Blud to try and meet me in the middle of where our processes would potentially differ from one another, so that we could develop a fairly smooth workflow.

I had also expected, according to our discussions on the matter, that we would value each other's opinions on things and take them into consideration. We had such good synchronicity already.

In the beginning, there wasn't any unusual behavior that caught my attention. Blud was a bit uncomfortable with trying out new things but I did my best to accommodate her so that our project could move forward without too much turbulence. She had also mentioned to me before that she was autistic, and since my husband is also autistic, I knew how difficult it could be when it came to adapting to new routines. But when it was time for her to deliver the first set of layouts, it wasn't at all what I expected.

What I had expected was something with margins, clearly marked boxes, and figures that I could do rough lines over. I also expected notes that confirmed what we had discussed earlier about the project; that way I knew what she wanted or if there would be any changes. She took offense to this, feeling like I was violating our agreement. Though Blud did try to give me space with regards to the actual art, and while she would offer criticisms here and there, I trusted her opinion as an artist and as a friend. But apparently that didn't go both ways. In fact, Blud seemed to be offended that I expected more from her.

Blud agreed to concede. She suddenly seemed fine with the changes that I had asked for after seeing the layouts. I guess she was feeling overstimulated by the change and I might have been applying too much of a critical tone to her responses to begin with. I have had to deal with rejection sensitivity throughout my life and it's certainly prompted me to approach what people say to me online with a bit of scrutiny (sometimes too much).

And while I was mildly annoyed, although admittedly I was more concerned with Blud's overall reaction to my asking for clarification about several things in the layouts, I let it go. But it seemed like there was a problem. The majority of my ideas were either rejected or outright overridden with Blud convincing me that my faulty memory had made me unable to remember what we had agreed upon. Or that I might have been misremembering in my own favor.

There was one time where we were discussing a monster's design. Blud had already decided to settle on one design that she had come up with, even as I continued to offer other suggestions. The story was to take place in my setting, so I was under the impression that I got to decide what kind of creatures should populate it. The conversation ended somewhat ambiguously. I had assumed that we'd come to a solid conclusion later. 

I came back the next day and it turned out that we were using her design because that was what we had decided on. "Don't you remember? You really need to do something about that faulty memory of yours, Tek. I can't be doing this for you all the time."

At which point, Blud would go back and meticulously scour the conversation until she managed to find a set of lines that would make it seem as though I had 100% agreed. Even when I tried to explain that I had meant something else, she took it as an affront on her inability to understand nuances due to her autism.

I admit that my memory isn't that greatest at times, but I've never had anyone complain about it before. And none of my friends have ever minded providing reminders to me if I did misremember something incorrectly. We all forget stuff at times, right? It's *still* something that I'm self-conscious about because (like a lot of people with ADHD) my memory seems selective at times. This was, apparently, a problem that I needed to manage. 

And even as I'm remembering these incidents to the best of my ability, I've already spent so much time recounting all of this to friends. I feel confident in my recollection. There are some details that may overlap or become entwined with other things, but it all basically tells the same story. Especially in conjunction with what's been said by others. You're free to take it as hearsay since I do not have screenshots to back this up.

I will mention (since I've been told it's something that Blud has taken particular interest in) that at one point, I did have a crush on her. I was having some problems IRL, and it was nice to have someone whom I felt actually understood me. I also felt like I saw a lot of myself in her. I think that, at one point, I did describe her as the kind of "girlfriend" I would want. Blud seemed to indicate the feeling was mutual.

Between our collaborative partnership and all of the details we shared about our lives, it did feel like an intimate relationship at times. I had no intentions of pursuing it. We were not compatible in our romantic and sexual identities, and I had no intention of leaving my current partner for her.

I had begun to notice red flags, even if I wasn't ready to accept them yet.

I've had experience with abusive relationships in the past but they were in person, and not online. I knew what to look out for and yet I was being willfully ignorant about our friendship. I wanted to give Blud the benefit of the doubt. I wanted the project to work *so* badly that I was willing to work with her increasing demands as the months went by.

I had no idea that those demands would change into, quite literal, temper tantrums. It would then trigger my fawning response which was due to an abusive family situation that I had dealt with before I moved to Canada. The tactic was this: concede to someone until there was a time that they either understood reason or I had the chance to use it against them if necessary.

I started to take screenshots. I wish that I had taken a lot more of them so that everyone could get a better idea of what was happening. I did go back and manage to record the majority of the first outburst. It was the first inkling I had that Blud wasn't playing with a full deck of cards. I knew that that would be one of the first conversations that she would promptly delete. And consequently, I was right.

This assortment of screenshots will exhibit the first serious confrontation that Blud had with me. I am absolutely *not* proud of how I handled this. I was literally panicking at the time and doing whatever I could to get her to calm down. Because I have a temper that can look similar to this in person, I knew that I had to wait until the post-tantrum clarity would hit Blud. I tried my best to not lose my own temper in turn but looking back, I feel that I came off as sounding too timid.

I didn't want to ruin this project.

I wanted to make a comic with an individual that I admired and respected as a fellow artist. And, with me not knowing how to respond, my main priority was to not make things any worse than they already were.

Below is the conversation in its entirety:

I had taken this screenshot on my phone after I had stepped away to compose myself. Blud had handled the confrontation and criticism with a reasonable amount of apprehension. But what had not occurred to me was that I could have said something that would remind her of past experiences with a roleplaying group.

It was something that had evidently scarred Blud for life.

I took away the wrong things from what she had told me, choosing to focus on the aspects of the "betrayal" that had appeared to bother her the most. And in hindsight, I did not see the correlation. I was genuinely apologetic that I had hurt her feelings.

But I *will* critique Blud for her poor handling of the situation. Whether or not I had hurt her feelings, no one is entitled to act like this or claim that this is what attempting to resolve a problem should look like.

I wasn't sure on how to initially respond to Blud. It had been ages since I'd had to deal with someone flying off the handle like that.

The following screenshots are where the conversation picked up, after she had already deleted the above message:

We had weathered the "storm" and after Blud calmed down, she was ready to communicate. There was a part of me that was genuinely sincere when I apologized to her. I did mean it when I said that I had no intentions of hurting her and that I hadn't considered how my statement would sound to her.

I had hoped that this had been a stress response due to factors outside of our collaboration. And especially when I took into account how she had interacted with me in the past. I knew that Blud had a lot going on IRL, and that she had already put a considerable amount of energy into this project.

I had taken her meltdown more personally than she could perceive that I would, because this was something that was acceptable to her. She had a "condition" that would absolve her of these abhorrent meltdowns and I needed to get used to them if we were going to continue working on that project together.

I was shaking the entire time we were typing in the chat.

I was sincere in my responses. I really did want to work things out with Blud and give her the benefit of the doubt. I could have been taking the things that she said too personally or maybe I had been reading too much into the situation. Was there a chance that I could have been misreading her outburst? I tried my best to keep an open mind though I was still somewhat baffled by the fact that she would have meltdowns as often as she did.

I confided in my husband and some other friends about the situation. They were also bewildered by Blud's actions.

By this point, I was struggling with the reality that this collaboration was most likely *not* going to work out but I still wanted to try. I still cared about Blud. We would still hang out together and talk about things like music, our characters, or our stories.

While I did have the foresight to go back and screenshot this section, I wasn't fast enough to get screenshots of everything else that I will be going over. Blud *did* admit to going back and deleting certain exchanges due to a mixture of shame; not wanting to look at them when she would scroll through our conversations. 

In retrospect, it was very telling.

And even after that meltdown, I still enjoyed the friendship that I had with her. I kept my guard up but I was willing to make compromises on her behalf if it resulted in better communication between the two of us. Blud made me promise to immediately tell her if I had a problem with something. I also agreed to keep notes of our conversations.

It worked for the most part.

In the end though, it became apparent that Blud wasn't willing to do the same for me (even after we had an extended conversation about it). I then realized that I had been tasked with basically *managing* her autism for her. I was already busy with my supposedly "bad memory" at the time; and Blud was more than ready to scroll back up through our conversations to cherry-pick a line or two of text to remind me of what was said earlier.

Because, for her, circumstances couldn't ever change. If they did, it would mean that Blud had lost control of the situation and that she was in the wrong. She could *not* be in the wrong. 

And if she was in the wrong? It would take solid evidence, three witnesses, and a court of law to prove it.

She had two other major meltdowns after this. I managed to step away from communicating with her through one of them and I don't remember the other meltdown lasting very long. She immediately deleted the texts of both of those instances before I could take screenshots of them.

It seemed like I could do nothing right when it came to Blud, no matter the lengths I would go to accommodate her. I knew that it was a common tactic used by abusers. I finally accepted that our partnership wasn't going to work out and I began thinking about an exit strategy. The final straw was when she began to expect me to be at her beck and call.

I had promised that I would be there for her, within reason, and I was willing to offer reassurances whenever she would ask me for them. The promise had been made back when we had first started to talk to one another with more frequency, before Blud had shown me her true colors. I would end up completely underestimating just how badly she would need reassurance.

To be frank, I underestimated a lot about Blud in the beginning.

I would end up mentioning that I enjoyed my space in several different conversations with her. That there was a chance that I might be offline for several days so I could take care of things IRL and recharge my social batteries. I'm somewhat of a recluse. And an adult who enjoys things that aren't online.

She said that it was fine.

I became incredibly anxious when I would talk to Blud, especially after her somewhat abrupt change in personality.

I then attempted to put my foot down about boundaries and this is what she had to say:

I decided to walk away for a bit and I came back after I had had some time to think things over. This wasn't healthy for either of us. I wrote a couple of sentences to say goodbye to Blud before I blocked her. I knew that my actions would probably infuriate her. She had told me in the past that she *hated* not being able to have the final word... which she was able to do through email:

“And I'm not letting you pretend you have control over the situation, or the high ground. You distinctly have neither. But since you're determined to stick to your 'principles' on this, I've decided to make it easier for you.”

She thought that she was absolved of all sins just because I had said that I would stand by her at her worst. And at the time that I said that, I had no idea that her worst would be her trying everything possible to protect her boundaries while stomping all over mine. It didn't matter what she said or how often she would apologize when I would confront her. She kept doing it.

I admit that I wasn't perfect in this situation either.

There were times when I was condescending, critical, or downright mean when I talked to Blud because that was the way I had felt when she was talking to me. I soon realized that it didn't matter either way. I could have been using the friendliest tone imaginable and she still would have perceived it as either mocking or dismissive on my end. There were even a few times where I would preface my explanations with an advisory “please know that I am not attacking you and try to read this in an understanding tone,”etc. I would then post an explanation I had spent hours picking at to ensure that there was no way she could misinterpret the intent. Even so, she still read the majority of what I said as criticism and would take it to heart.

I never expected Blud to do something that made her uncomfortable; nor did I expect her to overextend herself when it came to our project. I would go out of my way to make sure everything was fine when we would talk about it. I only expected mutual respect in return.

When we would get into discussions (arguments), she would never attempt to understand my point of view or let me explain myself. It would have made it about me when it should have been about Blud and her needs. She sometimes would agree to come to a compromise about something, but only if I would admit that I was in the wrong.

I know that if Blud was to look at these screenshots, she'd be incredulous that I'm trying to distract from the horrible things that *I* did. And those horrible things that I did? I tried my best to work with her.

It wasn't just her poor teamwork that bothered me. It was her attitude and the lack of respect that she showed me. She would never ask me to clarify something that I said; always assuming that it was a criticism against her. I can only speculate that Blud did not want to hear about how any of this was her fault, like in the email she sent me.

I don't know if I was actually her friend at any point. Friends make efforts to understand one another. Ideally, they’d want their friendships to continue, and they would want everyone to be getting along and having fun. She seemed to actively defy that.

I would argue that things like this don't just happen in a vacuum. There's almost always a reason for such things, but it's honestly a mystery to me as to where this vitriol comes from. I don't know why Blud sees monsters in every word, especially if they come from a  "friend". 

I've seen her viscously mock herself during meltdowns; it seems like she hates herself and expects everyone else to hate her too. I think that she wants it to be the truth, so that it validates the feelings she has about herself. The behavior patterns that I'd been exposed to are consistent with the idea that Blud is seeking confirmation about the personal assumptions she has about herself. It's what makes her so volatile to those around her. Yet, she refuses to break the cycle.

I hope that she can make that choice in the future but at this point, I'm not holding my breath.

[fucknugg3t]

Ok now someone make a fwb Elliott mod

fuck it man I’m not leaving this in tags youre going to hear me because I’m CORRECT

[ghost-bxrd]

Protective fae!Dick, please? This is my favorite AU, I can't get enough of your writing

That’s so sweet 🥺💚

Okay at this point I can admit I have thing for (over)protective characters so I’m all too happy to oblige lol.

Anyway, protective fae!Dick:

He doesn’t notice he’s being overprotective most of the time. When the people close to him mention a minor inconvenience his first instinct is to remove that inconvenience from the equation altogether. It’s a steep learning curve, because when Bruce first took him in he didn’t realize he’d have to stop Dick from killing half the Rogue gallery in the span of a few months. “But they hurt you,” he’d pout, “and it wouldn’t be really killing, anyway. I’m just… recycling them.” “…” “I could let them keep their consciousness—“ “N O”

Friends, while cherished, do not get to claim the same level of protectiveness. Dick would always come to their aid, of course, but for each request for help he keeps a tally mark in his head; accumulating favors. Only his family are exempt from this.

While there have been a couple close calls over the years, none will ever compare to the time he came back from a mission to find a member of his family gone. To this day Dick refuses to talk about the first couple weeks after he found out. And around the same time each year every plant and tree seems to wither and rot for a while before suddenly bursting back into full bloom. Jason has to return to the manor for this time each year, or Dick will absolutely track him down and drag him back himself. Neither he nor the manor lets him leave until Dick is back to his cheerfully self.

Any close calls with the family after that automatically result in several weeks of house arrest for the respective family member, courtesy of carnivorous deer and some over enthusiastic tree roots that enforce this rule with absolute prejudice.

If someone tries to kill a member of the family while Dick patrols with them/is close by, the only thing the batfam can do is damage control. Because while they can usually stop him from killing the perpetrator, it probably isn’t very ethical to allow a borderline eldritch being to cry their brains with his strange magic either.

Alrighty that’s all I’ve got for now <3

[grechsblog]

Isat postcanon au where loop gets to neither rest Nor be with the group after the ending and instead is being punted directly to the next siffrin in need of help because per Universe Co. Trial Period Guidelines they now qualify as experienced professional

Get stuck-ed in another perpetual cycle of psychological torment gay-they.

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock!! does ur big wrinkly brain have any neuvillette thoughts

yan neuvillette... it'd really be something.

he isn't cruel, deceptive, or forcefully restrictive. you'll walk away from interactions feeling like something's off, without being able to identify what. the quiet intensity of his gaze, perhaps? he looks at you like you hold the key to all the universe's mysteries. there's this expectation that neither you nor him fully understand.

he's just as perplexed by his behavior as you are, if not more so. from the onset, he rightfully predicts that nothing good will come from this. he values fairness and recognizes the immense gap in your positions. there's so much he could do, so much he could get away with, and his fascination with the infinite possibilities initially disturbs him. this mild revulsion never fully disappears, serving as a minor checks and balance for himself.

neuvillette isn't delusional. when he realizes there's no staunching this interest, he decides to take a practical approach by drafting his own code of conduct. he reasons that these 'rules', while dubious, provide a framework that's preferable to the draconic urge to possess you in your entirety.

the reoccurring tenet centers around doing you no 'unnecessary harm.' naturally, this is subject to his interpretation. your definition and his don't often overlap. he isn't deaf to your objections, though, in fact, he encourages them. he'd much prefer you spell out your thinking than leave him in the dark. if you make a compelling enough case, he'll relent. these minor victories mostly consist of you absolving innocent friends from his judgment.

you'll come to find out why your occasional run-ins left a lasting impression on you. it's because each second, behind that composed façade, he was weighing your fate on a scale that favored his interests over yours.

[trappedinafantasy37]

The last DeVir and the forgotten Baenre. Two noble drow forever exiled from their homes and abandoned by Lolth.