#Fisher and the Flame

[suryp]

Date: unknown

Year: inconsequential

Region: central Tartyryn straight

The snow crunches beneath our feet, the wind howls like the devil, and while we all show fear, I've reason to think my brothers know not that we walk over a frozen sea, more than 30 metres deep with fish heavier than our entire platoon. I doubt my commander knows, either, but that suits our real mission just fine.

The mission. Ha. Everyone knows the only safe spots for a town are off shore, we've already done the math, there's nothing out here worth finding.

Good thing Commander Reijean is such a greedy fuck, then.

"HALT!"

Thats him right there. Most would say he just wants to prove himself, but I know better. All humans hide their worst traits, tone 'em down for the public. We're all worse than we seem on the outside.

"..."

"whats out their c-"

"shut your trap private, I won't have my skill split be-"

*Crack*

"Mission complete, I suppose"

In an instant, Clark pulled out the rifle on his back. it was cheap shit, like all the gear for this trip was, but He's among the best "weapons guys" I've ever met.

Fortunately, the gun jams, and he vanishes into the blizzard.

"Clark? Buddy? Clark? Clark!"

"Circular formation, weapons up, we are-"

"...Commander?"

Just a few more to go. Our platoon used to be larger, but wandering for days on end through an empty void of ice and snow will take its toll. Just a few weeks ago, we might've won this fight.

Good thing banshees are smart, then.

"SpLit up!"

"Commander?"

"Split Up!"

"h- He's right. we're no more than a larger target like this."

"Just gotta find the right time for it."

Sabotage wasn't the plan, and it leaves a bad taste, but there's nothing for it.

"Now."

"..."

"..."

*Cr'Ack*

"..."

*Crunch*

"..."

And finally, a blood curdling scream cut short, by a few extra holes in the lungs.

I stand up, spread my arms wide, and make myself the most clear and easy target I can."

-...-

Two hours later

The blizzard dies, I see my siblings dead in the snow. Three have a mulch of bone and Metal shards, alongside frozen blood, in place of their heads. Commander has a crushed neck. Charlie's kevlar is punched through, frozen blood all along his chest.

There's a sixth carcass, some ornitherian, I think, though it's hard to tell considering how much was eaten. The ribs are gone, and only Two and a half legs remain.

I begin to walk off. A meal, even the frozen remains of a hippogriff corpse, is the last thing I d-

*crunch*

"..."

"you not fight me. why?"

"..."

"all humans try to kill us. take sea from us. take tyk'yk from us."

"...take egg from us."

"..."

"you not fight. why?"

-

alright thats a wrap! The official intro to Fisher and the Flame and the world of... well, I suppose she doesn't have a real name yet but hey, we can make this work.

for a bit of context regarding appearances, if you need that, "Ornithere" and "Hippogriff" refer to pterosaurian animals, most similar to (and heavily based on) Trollman's "Cuvier's Isle" a small spec one-shot. It does not refer to the serinean animals of the same name.

Banshee are a bit easier to describe, being a rough combination of Utahraptor osstramaysi and a Leopard Seal, very similar to @tales-of-kaimere's *Updated* xuul design, along with the Adzakoordu and the White Cockatrice, as well as the Tamakai.

The narrator, Jake Fisher, is getting a drawing, by someone who appreciates men far more than I.

now go read about kaimere on Keenan Taylors twitter, bluesky, deviantart, and youtube channel, along with trollman's various sickass works on the same websites.

-

edits: minor word changes, removal of unneeded dashes, and Commander is now cishet, because killing the first queer confirmed in story feels a bit too rude.

Reijean is still his name tho, since there has to some reason this unit was sent out.

also added a new tag. sorry y'all.

(im just gonna use the most extreme and broad tags that, since im exceedingly apathetic but do want to tag things correctly)

[tamlindudley]

It seems y’all, for some bizarre reason, find it abundantly difficult to find a Xaden who isn’t white so here, I bring you options. Quit with Matt Daddario please. He made a great Alec but Xaden is canonically a moc. It’s like y’all are allergic to melanin.

[Fady Elsayed, Drew Ray Tanner, Taylor Zachary Perez, Jordan Fisher, Kartik Aaryan, David Castañeda]

[yourlocalpurplekinnie]

Yugioh Rarepair Week Day 6!!

Today I did Circus with Extinguishshipping, Tweetshipping and London x Fisher :33 (I’m probably gonna draw more of them on the free day tbh because I have some scenes in my head that I wanna draw but I couldn’t today because I started this later in the day so I didn’t really get chance to add something on top of it)

We have London as the Ringleader, Fisher as the Magician’s assistant and Windy as the Magician (Idk I just find this to be funny in my mind for that duo (Fisher probably didnt know what they wanted to do and so London was probably like “Magician’s usually have assistants” and boom!!).

Then Flame as a fire preformer with basically the same design as I usually have him beyond the leather jacket being off and Tori and Yuzu who are both trapeze artists.

I already knew I wanted Yuzu to probably be a Trapeze artist but I wasnt surr what Tori would do so I just out her with her gf :33 I am 100% gonna redesign their outfits for the freeday because I got a little lazy witj them because I was gonna add patterns but I couldnt do a good one and I just wanted to get this over with LMAO.

Also no hat Fisher?? No way!!

But yeah I genuinely fell in love with this idea and I’m 100% gonna expand on it (well more like 75% because I have a hard time following things through) and yeah :333

Also my ocs decided to punch me in the face and take my interest away for like half or so of the day so yeah!!! I drew such a cute picture of them though <333

Anywyas yippee another day down!!!

[pricklymuffinzzzzz]

Sally Face Stimboard

Art by Kovid-Chan on Pinterest

(A redo of my old one)

[akslz]

"You must be an angel"

---- Hello!! this is my first post here so apoligies if its not formatted well. Regardless; here is a mediocre ( orignally written on a03 by me, linked here) story I wrote on a whim, about a broken family put back together once they move to Nockfell after an incident with Knives (our main character) and her mother. She and her brother meet the gang and silliness ensues. AKA a shitty modern day SF fanfic because head full, this is a self-insert character so sorry no y/n. she is loosely based off of me so blah blah ok here backstory time & yes there is homestuck refences and NO I do not care ☹ let me do what I do #autism !! English is a poor language for me so apologies for mistakes!! None of the fanart/ images used are mine, credits to owners!-----

CHAPER 1:

End of the Beginning

what seem like decades ago, Knives lived with her semi put together family in the ever so urban Houston Texas. With her twin brother Vinnie (or Vin) and her eldest brother Silas everything was just peachy. That was until their father had died of heart complications when Knives was just 11.

After that sad excuse of a day the widowed Miki became a pathetic shell of a mother. She lived by her ever empty bottle of wine or shitty canned beer. To the point where she became more of a roommate than a mother. Knives had to do something about this.

She wasn’t going to sit back and watch as her older brother work his senior year of high school away at some mediocre grocery store just so Miki could blow most of his minimal paycheck on alcohol. On April 14th, just days away from knives & Vins’ birthdays, knives decided to confront her mother. Here’s how the interaction went down. (First person pov)

“You crazy bitch who do you think you are?!” you mother slurred as she quickly tried to grab the bottle of wine that you started to pour down the drain.

“Me? Crazy? Please.” You said in a monotone voice as you finished dumping out the bottle and swiftly moved out of the way of your monstrous mothers’ grasp. Your brothers used to go onto the roof when things were easier, they taught you how to fight, or ‘strife’ they called it. You had gotten well at defending yourself over those couple of months. even being able to use your newfound skills against a creep at the mall.

“Please don’t do this, I just want to help you momma I promise!” you said grabbing her hands and looking up into her glazed eyes.

“Let go of me! You brat! I’m an adult and I can do as I want! Do not tell ME what I can and can’t do!” she said as she pushed you forward; causing your smaller body to hit the counter behind you.

As brush your long hair out of your face and you steady yourself you look back to your mother to see her lunge at you. You could never hurt your mother. Not ever. She’s just a little girl who’s distraught over her husband and best friend of 16 years dying. You couldn’t punish her for lashing out. She’s just scared.

 You feel warm now, you have a stinging spot on your head so instinctually you went to scratch it. Then comes the pain, it’s almost everywhere; you groggily open your eyes to look at your hand as it feels wet, blood. It was blood. You jolt up, now realizing you’re on the dining room floor. Your full vision slowly comes back, and you’re horrified at the sight. Chunks of your beautiful hair is sprawled around you.

 Your hair that held the last memory of your father. You used to crawl into bed with him and your mother in the mornings that you woke up before them. He used to always tuck your hair behind you bejeweled ears and hum you back into a light sleep. You grasp a chunk of the mangled hair and spread it between your fingers. Slowly beginning to cry. The pain on your extremities was nothing compared to this. You just slowly lowered yourself back onto the fake hardwood floor and cried, cried because you didn’t know what else to do.

 You wanted nothing but for everything to go back to the way it was. You starred at the entrance to your apartment, watching the very minimal light from the peep hole shine in, casting light on the dust particles in the air. It felt like the world was spinning in slow motion. You were dreading the time Silas and Vin come back from the music store. You cried for what felt like hours. You eventually sat up and noticed the keys to one of the two cars your family had owned was missing. You weakly stood up and hobbled to your mothers’ room, seeing drawers strewn over the already messy room.

“Great. Pansy ass bitch.” You said as your voice cracked. Crying again as you realized your mother had fled.

 You didn’t care though as you heard your brothers obnoxiously loud keys jiggle the lock open. You shuffled into the dining room, quickly observing the scene left behind. A broken wine bottle, small spots of blood with of course your white hair scattering the room. You dropped to your knees and touched your head for the first time since you woke up. You began sobbing again. The rest was a haze. You vaguely remember your older brother cupping your head; asking what happened. The only thing you could mutter was ‘’ Momma”. That’s all he needed to hear.

After that it’s a blur. Due to your mothers fleeing and your brother being freshly 19, he gains custody of you and your twin.

CHAPTER 2:

Beginning of the End

~Time skip: 3 years after incident, age:15~

You innocently lean against your bed, plucking mindlessly at your well-loved bass. The vibrations running through your fingers.

“yo“ Vinnie says as he comes into your shared room, pushing up the shades he always adorned and swooping his platinum hair out of his face. You found it funny, you rarely see him without the sunglasses.

“Hey man, did Bro mention anything about what school we’ll be goin’ to after we move?’’ you questioned as you shut off your amplifier and faced him fully. He sat down at his desk and kicked his feet up on the nearby bedpost.

“Yeah, actually he did, it’s near the shithole surprisingly, so we could probably skate to & from the hellhole instead of riding in the bus” He referred to the apartments we planned to live in as the ‘shithole’ because in all honesty, it wasn’t lavish. On the website it looked quite old, but it’ll do for the three of you. The real name of your new crib was ‘Addison Apartments’.

You set your bass down as you glanced at your mostly packed room. The stacks of cardboard boxes occupying most of the free space.

‘’I can’t believe this our last weekend in Texas...” Vinnie sighed and got up to stand next to you as you turned to glance out the window of your Highrise apartment. You’re not going to miss the hustle and bustle of urban Texas; the constant traffic and shouting kept you up frequently. You leaned onto your brother as he comfortingly wrapped an arm around you and sighing.

“I know, it’ll be a nice change though, Nockfell looks chill.” He said rubbing circles onto your arm.

Later on you go into the bathroom to take off your makeup, when your mother defaced you she gladly didn’t do as much damage as you initially thought. Your long hair now was medium length with layers. You honestly loved the change of appearance. You also decided to dye the tips of your hair a dusty rose because you’ve always liked the idea of a colorful head of hair, even if its just a little.

-

“Finally, I finished packing the moving van with my and my brothers’ shit’’, you thought, never understood why they needed so many electronics, turntables, keypads, electric pianos, they had it all. They sure did love their pop music. You, Knives, on the other hand liked all music types, but you really loved heavy metal. The way that Sanity’s Falls bass shook your head every time you listened to it just make your love for metal grow. You laughed at how ironic it was that your name was Knives, AND you liked heavy music, how metal is a name like that?

Vin stumbled out of the entrance to the apartment building, his headphones sitting heavily on his shoulders as he chucks his skateboard and your roller skates in the back of bros’ pickup. You had all finished getting ready for the drive, you and your twin glances at each other and then to your guardian.

Bro wiped sweat from his forehead and adjusted his pointy shades “Alright y’all let’s get this show on the road, its a long drive so let’s get started. I wanna make it at least halfway by tonight.”

You and Vin were going to drive the pickup while Bro drove the chunky U-Haul. Although you both couldn't legally drive, your brother decided on a whim to teach the both of you a couple months ago so you had a general idea of what you were doing. You were nervous to make the lengthy drive because you had a fear that if you got pulled over that you and your brother would both be sent to juvey.

Regardless, you made the drive. The 48 hour journey was taxing but when you stepped out of the car in Nockfell you realized that this place was way different than Texas and you had no clue what was to come.

After reconnecting with your eldest brother after the long drive you made your way into the lobby as your brothers unlocked the moving van. You realize that there was no receptionist desk only a small mail cubby area. you remembered that Bro mentioned you would be staying in unit 403. So you made your way over to that cubby and you realized that you needed a key to unlock. \

You did not know where to obtain such key so being the genius you are you stuck your smallest fingers' nail into the key slot and tugged & wiggled out a little bit to see if it was unlocked and thankfully it was! you grabbed the few pieces of junk mail that had already gathered and threw them away, then picked up the thin envelope that contained the apartment keys and gently opening it and removing the keys

you made your way to the elevator and hit the button for your floor you jogged quickly to your apartment and unlocked it. You push open the door to see a glum looking room with a green-gray carpet that held a few stains.

You scrunch your nose due to you smelling heavy cleaner and bleach, but at least it was clean, you quickly set down the keys and make your way out leaving the door open so you and your siblings can easily go in and out without having to worry about the door.

-

After you brought up all the boxes with your name on it and set them in your room you put your hands on your hips, sighing, and glancing around the room. You were excited to finally have your own room away from your brother, but it would be a change because you had been bunking with him since you two were little. Reminiscing about all the times you had spent together was making you feel nostalgic.

Vin and Bro had made a quick run to the grocery store so they could stock up on some essentials for the fridge. You sat down and sliced open one of the cardboard boxes that was labeled “CDs” you were rummaging through it when you heard some mumbling coming from outside your room and heavy footsteps. You were surprised because you thought it would take your brothers a longer time to arrive back home, so you brushed yourself off and pushed the door open.

Your eyes widened in shock when you realize that the two people you heard in your apartment were in fact not your brothers but two strangers. One being a tall male with tanned skin and long brown hair having deep set eyes that carried bags heavier than anything. This person wore a cannibal corpse shirt with a beat-up flannel and gray jeans. The other person that you couldn't assume the gender of had electric blue pigtails hanging from each side of their head & wore red ripped jeans with fishnets underneath, combat boots along with a black crew neck, you also noticed that this person wearing what looked like a mask, you didn't think twice though because a lot of people these days were very expressive. It looks quite cool.

“uh…. hi...” you said sweetly but quietly, slightly hiding behind the door frame because you didn't know if these people were a threat or not. Just in case you reached over to your desk and put your hidden hand on it to feel for the box cutter you had laying on it.

“Oh! Hey man” the tall one with long hair said as he lifted his ringed hand and waved “sorry to intrude like this dude just wanted to give an introduction because we were told that a new tenant would be moving in, I’m Larry, Larry Johnson.” He took a step closer to you holding out his dominant hand for to shake.

“Hi... I’m Knives, yeah me and my brothers just moved here, nice to meet you” you reluctantly grabbed his hand your long nails accidentally brushing against him.

“Knives? Like the utensil? That's a cool ass nickname!” He said smiling noticing the gap in between his two front teeth. It kind of made him look like a Bunny.

“Thank you! But that's my real name.” You said awkwardly smiling leaning your head fully against the door frame of your room.

“Oh, and uh this is my friend Sal, but you can just call him Sally face! It's kind of like his nickname.” Larry said elbowing his shorter friend getting a low toned laugh out of Sal.

So, the mystery person is a guy, good to know. You could tell that you and Ben would get along well with them both.

“So, you said you had brothers, right? Where are they?” The bluenette questioned while stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“They went to the store I think but they should be back soon. How old are you guys?” you questioned. Quickly stuffing the box cutter into the backside waistband of your shorts and quickly tucking your Motley-Crue band shirt over it. You swiftly moved away from the door frame and took a step right outside the door and leaned against the wall, kicking one of your ankles over the other while withholding eye contact with Sal.

"we're both fifteen, how about you?" Larry questioned eyeing you 

"same. My twin is fifteen too, His name is Vin, I think you two would get along well. He likes cannibal corpse." you lied straight through your teeth, not knowing why. Vinnie never really liked metal. Hopefully he'll lie as well to cover your white lie. You were never good with people.... safe to say you're nervous for what's to come.

CHAPTER 3:

Every story starts somewhere

Hi hi I somehow forgot to mention that this story is NOT following canon events, i.e. no cult, just some vague paranormal activity   !All original characters belong to me, none of the canon characters mentioned are mine and do not have the rights to them!

You had spoken with the two for about 15 minutes before they saw themselves out. After they’d left you had mentally slapped yourself for being so socially inept, Vin and Silas would definitely make fun of you for this one.

“Hey hey Knives! We’re back with some food!” Silas said as he loudly slammed the door with his foot.

“And we bought apple juice! So come get some before I finish it all.” Vinnie barked as you made your way out of your now unpacked room.

“Thanks bro!” you said smiling widely at your older brother as he messed up your hair

The three of you lingered in the kitchen as you unloaded the groceries and unpacked the kitchen essentials.

“Something really weird happened earlier-“you said turning to face them both, you were met with darkened plastic sunglasses awaiting you to continue speaking

“These two guys from the apartments came to introduce themselves, Larry and Sal, surprisingly they were very chill. I kinda lied about you liking cannibal corpse to Larry though vin...” you said sheepishly smiling and covering your face with your hands.

“ Man what the hell why? I don’t dig metal that much” Your twin asked jokingly.

“They were just so… intriguing! I got embarrassed and it just slipped out!”

“Chillax sis its alright, don’t sweat it. So, these guys are what? Hardcore church burners?” Vin said making the demon horn motion with both of his hands.

You and Silas laughed as he obnoxiously headbanged.

“No not really, at least not from what I could tell. They were very nice. I’m pretty sure they go to our school since we’re all the same age. “Vin nodded for you to continue.

“Larry is a tall dude with what I have to say is the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen on a man” you said throwing your hands up in defeat. Both of your brothers scoffing sarcastically.

“Then there’s Sal- “you began to remember the sight of the boy, something about him captivated you. Whether it was his unique hair, His killer style, the tone of his voice…...or the way his hands looked with all those rings on them… and the way you thought they’d look on you…

Girl, what the hell are you thinking?! You just met him? Stop being weird. You seriously needed to stop letting your hormones take control of you like this.

You’d realized your brother was looking at you strangely.

“Hellooooo? Anyone in there?” Vin said waving a hand in front of your face.

“Is she having another episode?” Silas asked, setting down the box he was moving and walking over to you.

“What? Oh sorry, No I’m fine, I just got lost in thought you guys don’t worry” you nervously laughed as they back away from you, relaxing their attention.

“Shit man you really worried me for a second…Anyways continue with what you were telling me about this Sal girl” Vinnie sighed now sitting on the counter across from you.

“Sal is a guy- “you said rolling your eyes “– but anyways. He’s sweet, he has this bright blue hair that’s really dope. He also wears this mask? I’m not sure what its about but it fits him, he has the same style of Larry he’s just a liiitttlllleee short…” you said making a “small” motion with your index and thumb.

“Hey, it’s not like the little guy can control it!” Vinnie said getting off the counter and poking at you.

You and he laughed as you made your way to his room to help him unpack his belongings.

-

The next day was Saturday. You were making your way down to the lobby with your brother to explore the area when on your way out of the dingy elevator you bumped into someone, accidently knocking something out of their hands.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” you apologized quickly kneeling to pick up papers and a purple school folder off the ground.

“It’s okay! I should’ve been looking where I was going” the feminine voice said giggling.

You handed the girl what you assumed was her schoolwork.

“Hey…are you new around here? I’ve never seen you before? And I think I’d remember someone this pretty” the girl said.

This girl was also quite pretty. With long brown hair and piercing green eyes, she wore a long purple shirtdress with purposely torn black tights. Along with a chunky black choker and heavier makeup, you started to really like this girl already.

“Thank you so much! You’re pretty too, and uhm yeah! Me and my brother just moved here recently, My names Knives. This is my brother Vinnie.” You said gesturing to Vinnie who threw up a weak wave to her as he seemed in awe.

“Knives?! That’s so awesome! My name’s Ashley but everyone just calls me Ash. Do you have insta or anything like that? You seem realllyyyy cool and I’d love to get to know you-“she said as she pulled out a lavender iPhone from her sleeve “- but I’m supposed to be tutoring with my friends right now and I’m already late, I’m afraid they’ll think I’m dead if I’m any more late” she said holding her phone out to you.

“Yeah, I do! Also, no problem I understand, you seem pretty chill as well!” you said slightly smiling as you typed your username into the search bar and then clicked on your profile as it came up. You handed Ash her phone back, she waved goodbye and jogged into the elevator.

“she seems nice, It seems like everyone here has awesome hair…” you said looking to Vinnie

“DID SHE FOLLOW YOU YET? LET ME SEE YOUR PHONE NOW, GIVE IT GIVE IT GIVE IT” he said reaching for your phone which was in your hand.

“Jesus man here fine, have a look god!” You laughed handing it to him. Vinnie snatched it out of your hand and flying to Ash’s’ profile.

You looked over his shoulder as he looked through her pictures, she had about 15 posts. Most were landscape but there were some of her and her friends. She was friends with Sal and Larry! That’s convenient! Vinnie swiped through the post of her and the guys on the 4th of July, there was also a pair of boys you hadn’t recognized yet. Safe to say you were excited to meet them both as well.

“Yo are these the guys you were talking about yesterday?” Vinnie said clicking on the profile mention on the picture, pulling up Sals’ account.

“Yeah! That’s cool that they’re friends. Makes me excited to hangout with them.”

Your brother finally handed your phone back after sending Ashley’s account to himself, you internally laughed at how eager he was to swoop this girl off her feet. You somehow made your way back to those pictures of Sal and everyone else on the 4th. You admired Sal, eventually tapping onto his profile, your thumb hovered over the ‘Follow’ button and you hesitated.

What if he thinks I’m a stalker? He didn’t even mention his socials so what if he thinks negatively of me just following him out of the blue? What if-

Then your eyes glance up at the notification you’d just received,

“New follower: @TheOG_SF – Sal Fisher”

CHAPTER 5 (4 was an update on the story):

Why is everything different now?

Heyyyy, finally got this damn story updated, my apologies, im learning more English now so they should be more frequent!

Holy shit, you thought, quickly swiping up the notification to dismiss it.

Were you hallucinating? You truly hoped you weren’t.

“ Yo are you alive?” you glanced up to Vinnie with a wide eyed expression

“ah yeah sorry…don’t know what washed over me, lets go” you said walking past him to the main doors to exit

-

You and your brother had eventually made your way into a nearby resale/music store. The both of you going to see if you could replace some of the CDs you’d had before you moved.

Unfortunately for you and him some of the discs were snapped or scratched up during transit from Houston to Nockfell. The two of you slowly made it outside; you rummage through your cluttered tote to get the keys to the truck. You eventually find them and toss them to vin.

-

Once we pulled into the parking lot of the music store vin took the keys out of the ignition and glanced to you. You were chewing on your fingernails again, that’s something you did when you were nervous. Or in deeeeeepppppp thought.

You just kept starring at the follower request, not knowing what to do. You’ve combed through all of ash’s’ friends’ profiles except sals. You were just…too nervous. You were never this nervous.

“Dude just follow him back, it’s been like 20 minutes.” Vin said leaning over to watch your phone. “Absolutely not! What if he thinks I’m weird? Or what if he just did it on accident, or what if-“ you kept talking as your brother slothed his arm over and gingerly accepted the follow request. You sat silently in shock as he shrugged. “Well alright... ill just leave my phone in the car I think” you said hooking your purse over your shoulder. Overthinking everything that could happen if he didn’t accept your request.

-

You rummaged through CDs, you only had a couple stuffed in your hands; Bring Me The Horizons’ “Suicide Season”, Pierce The Veils “Misadventures”, Madonna’s ‘’like a virgin’’, and finally Dark Thrones “Transvilaian Hunger”. Quite opposites if you ask me, you thought to yourself as you maneuvered through the thin isles of the shop. As your sifting through discounted vinyl’s you hear the chime of the electric doorbell, the one that annoyingly chimes every time someone enters or exits. You decide to ignore it and continue looking.

“Speak of the devil” Vinnie breathed out quietly and smirked as he gestured to who entered the store; Of course, it was Ash and her group of friends. One of those friends being Sal. You swiftly turn back to the vinyl bin. Pretending to be interested in its contents to seem busy.

“Oh hey! Look who it is” you heard the deep grungy voice of who you assumed was Larry. You still didn’t look up, frozen from anxiety. You never really felt like this… you didn’t understand why everything was changing so suddenly. You reluctantly turned around and smiled. “Hey knives! Looks like you discovered our best kept secret” you heard ash giggle as she threw her hands up in defeat.

“yeah” Sal laughed “This record store is one of the only good things in Nockfell” he continued. “Oh yeah? Well, I’d have to say its awesome, glad I found out yall’s ‘little secret’ “you said making air quotations.

“Believe me, we have better secrets than this.” Said an unfamiliar voice. “Well its nice to finally meet you, only today had they mentioned meeting you and trust me, they were all eager for me to meet you, I’m Todd” A shorter ginger boy with rounded glasses appeared from behind the other three. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Todd” you smiled; “Also, this is my partner, Neil” Another guy emerged, the same height as Todd. He waved sweetly and grinned.

-

“You having a party without me? Unbelievable.” Your brother jokingly scoffed as he finally came to take some of the spotlight off you. “Yo, nice to see you guys in person, I’m Vinnie, but I just go by vin.” He said as he shoved his rap CDs into your arms to go fist bump your new friends. “Nice to meet you man! I heard you liked cannibal corpse, right?” Larry said enthusiastically as he looked at vin.

“Yeah man...I love them…!” Vin said side eyeing you through his shades. Making you giggle

“Oh word? That’s sick, I love them too.” You heard Sal say to your twin. You caught yourself starring at Sally. He was just a lot to look at to be fair, not in a bad way. In a way you’d look at a renaissance painting, just taking in the intricacy. The guys were all conversating about what-not, you noticed how Sal spoke with his hands a lot. That’s funny, you do that too….

“Knives? You alright?” Ashley said waving a hand in front of your face, Todd furrowing his eyebrows confused while waiting for your response. “Huh? Oh yeah sorry I was just starring off into space.” You said as your eyes widened. You catch Todd exchanging a look to Ashley, and she returned that look; you had no clue what language they were speaking with their eyes.

-

You and your group checked out with your minimal items, you and Vinnie ended up leaving with the group. The five of them somehow walked to the record store? They must really like this place. The six of you have to somehow fit into Silas’s truck. Vinnie and Larry in the front seats, Ashley, Todd, and Neil in the back seats… Where were you going to sit? Where was Sal going to sit?! They definitely did this on purpose. 

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

Chapter 6 coming soon, thank you!!!

[tenojan-in-tevinter]

Every day, we mshenko fans wake up and choose violence...

[comicwaren]

From X-Men Red Vol. 2 #015, “Nothing and Nobody”

Art by Yildiray Çinar and Federico Blee

Written by Al Ewing

[iamtryingtobelieve]

You came along to change the grade to raise the bar I'd made of late

You came along to raise the stakes to tend to me and my mistakes

I can't pretend that I could be the man you said you saw in me

But hang around and I'll try and land this thing

[belladonnafleur]

welp

[suryp]

It was a calm day.

The water was clear, the waves calm, and the sun shined through them. Mothers dark dorsal absorbed the light, but her pale belly was painted with the shine, even as far down as we were.

"Are you ready to go out today?"

She'd been pressing me. I was two meters long by then, and had yet to see open water.

"Um..."

"There's no need to worry. Predators don't like calm days like this, and we don't need to go far."

"...alright. Lets go."

So we went. Even to the outer reefs, hunters avoided mother. Small fish crowded around the flotsam, some like islands more than twice her length, casting shadows down below. We continued onto the barrens, then the jelly fields, avoided stingers as we went, and eventually made it to the wall.

"..."

"...It's alright sweetie. I'll be right behind you."

"...ok."

We swam slowly, cautiously. I curved my neck in every direction, to see what was out there. Above us, only driftwood. Below... I flipped over to get a better look.

Nothing.

Just shadow. the light slowly fading in the dark water. I turned back. My dappled gray skin wasn't so obvious as mothers black, but I had spots that might give me away.

We rose to breathe, I stayed just below mother, her flippers curved under to cradle me, the hard skin at their edges could cut sharks.

I lifted my head up, out of the water...

Something cut my sides.

In a panic, I thrashed and dove, before quickly finding cover on the underside of the driftwood, clinging to it with fins.

And I looked to the void.

And then I looked for mother.

Blood... her blood. Mothers blood was around me, it was still falling into the water. I could taste it...

...Falling?

Cautiously, I crept to the side, preparing to look up and out of the water...

A great pile of flesh crashed into the waves. The taste was intoxicating, and filled me with fear...

So I swam. Away. I didn't know where. Open water wasn't familiar, and there were no landmarks to tell where home was.

...I'm lucky to be alive.

The people I swim with now are not like me. They do not speak my language, cannot speak it, with only two flippers and no neck, and I can only sing a fraction of their songs over a fraction of the distance...

But they are kind. They have learned my strengths, and support my function in the pod. Together, we are more effective hunters.

But not really a family. I guard their pups with my agility, wrestle large game with my size, and am allowed to eat first with hunts I help with, but I can not sing their songs, and there is nowhere to write or draw in this abyss.

But there are drifters.

The things that took my mother.

And I could not make them pay without my pod.

-

Cast in the same (overall) world as my previous short story (singular paragraph of a story) but with a different main character.

I'm sure at least some of you will be able to figure out whats actually happening here, but if you need help:

The narrator (and their mother) are Plesiosaurs. for a rw species I'd liken them to Tricleidus seeleyi, particularly the illustration by @ddinodan (twitter) on their plesiosauroidea chart, which is also featured on wikipedia.

The pod, who takes the narrator in, are cetaceans most similar to Acrophyseter deinodon, if a bit smaller.

the drifters are... well, it should be pretty obvious. no-one else really uses boats in this setting, since they can't or don't need to.

well. thats a wrap, folks! :3

[cerastes]

Habe you ever had a "did we even play the same game?" moment with someone?

My favorite game ever used to be Metal Gear Solid 4, it’s still up there in my top favorites, and this time at a party I met a guy that said he didn’t like MGS4 because he felt like it ruined Snake as a character and that it misrepresented him. I asked if he could elaborate and his response was that they took this Rambo dude, this super manly war hero and emasculated him into a weak old man.

I need you to understand that Solid Snake was without exaggeration fundamental in my growth as a person: I am from a latino country, grew up in what’s widely considered the wrong side of the tracks in the middle of nowhere, being macho, manly, tough was incredibly important to me, because that’s how it was in there, and Snake (plus “The Knight In Rusty Armor” by Robert Fisher) basically made me question all of what I’d grown up thinking up until then, because Snake isn’t a badass because grrr manly beef jerky I kill and swear, he is this incredibly solemn guy who hates what he can do, but is the only one that can do it, and if he doesn’t do it, then nuclear war happens, or worse. There’s a whole angle of expectation as a narrative arc in regards to Snake: Meryl expected a glorious, boisterous war hero, Otacon expected a grizzled, badass action hero, Liquid expected Himself But Better In Every Way, Ocelot expected a tool and nothing else, Naomi expected a callous and cold killer… And they were all wrong, he is, ultimately, an exhausted man that cannot stop no matter how much he wants to stop, because if he does, the world might likely go up in literal flames.

So to hear this self-proclaimed superfan of Snake say this just made me skip anger and go all the way to pity. In-universe, those in the know of Snake worship him as an actual God of War, and it’s a common thing that gets addressed in-universe: The whole point of MGS2 is that Raiden could never have won if he tried to be Snake, because you don’t want to be Snake. Snake hates being Snake. Snake isn’t manly because he beat a tank on foot one on one, Snake is admirable because he does the right thing, even if he’s breaking down molecule by molecule as he goes and he wants nothing more than to fuck off and raise dogs in the arctic, but keeps on going anyways because he can do something about it. The most important message he imparts on Raiden and Meryl is Don’t Be Me; Create A World Where Snake Doesn’t Need To Exist.

I felt pity because if you feel like MGS4 misrepresented Snake, then you really and explicitly are exactly the kind of fodder PMC nobody that feeds the proxy wars in MGS4. I think only by skipping every cutscene you can come out thinking that way. The only thing super about him was ficial.

[petermorwood]

Recent article on NPR about the history of artificial light somewhat frustrated me -- they portrayed all of pre-kerosene history as dark and heinously expensive at all times. Thing is, the writers based their findings solely on tallow candles, & ignored oil lamps, beeswax candles, clever use of refraction & outdoor light including moon/starlight... Also seemed to ignore the ubiquity of hearths / cook fires. Was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about non-tallow light? This isn't to ignore that truly, artificial lighting WAS much more difficult & expensive for much of human history, but acting like tallow candles were the ONLY light source seems very silly! (Plus your other lovely post about bottles of water used to make those candles more efficient via refraction & focus)

I'm betting the article you mean is this one - which refers back to this one.

For matching reference, my own posts about period lighting are here, One and Two, including observations about painting walls white, how to light candles and lamps without matches, and several other matters.

*****

It didn't take too much listening before I got tetchy, because the first half of this podcast seems more about mocking how WEIRD and PRIMITIVE old-time people were, than passing on any useful information.

Despite the presence of Jane Brox (author of "Brilliant: The Evolution of Artificial Light") whale oil only gets touched on in passing, and olive oil isn't mentioned at all.

Instead she starts talking about using oily seabirds (stormy petrels) as "candles", despite this scholarly study concluding that it was something talked about far more than done, besides being so very, very localised that its relevance to the history of lighting is very, very small.

But hey, WEIRD and PRIMITIVE, right?

*****

By contrast, making candles was so commonplace that it was another of those jobs which created surnames. Fletcher once put feathers on arrows, Cooper made barrels, Fisher, Miller, Baker and Farmer are obvious, and Chandler used to make candles.

Lampier, of course, made lamps, which helped keep those naked candle-flames away from anywhere they shouldn't touch. The man on the left is making the lantern bodies, the one on the right is shaving sheets of horn as windows.

It's cheaper than glass, less easily broken yet is translucent enough, when shaved properly thin, to give quite adequate light.

*****

The podcast has a digression about measuring the light output of a reproduction Ancient Babylonian lamp. Here's an original and a repro.

Yet that too says nothing about what fuel the lamp is or should be burning - olive oil, traded all over the Mediterranean by ancient olive-growing cultures.

These are Roman oil-lamps, from simple and cheap to elaborate and costly.

As for beeswax, so far as the podcast is concerned might as well not exist, despite being a by-product of honey, which was THE principal pre-sugar sweetener for centuries when not being made into all that mead whose existence, production and quaffing nobody questions.

Oh yeah, and then there was the amazed discovery (2:40 / 1:25, depending on which you're listening to) that melted beef fat "...smells really nasty, like, ANIMAL nasty,"

Why is this guy surprised? It's part of an animal!

*****

It's the same sort of infotainment ignorance as displayed by this TikTok twit, right up to complaining about the effort involved in preparation of anything because not having powered appliances was so labour-intensive, oh woe. Yes, it was, welcome to any historical period before about 1920. That's where "the daily grind" originates.

However the implication (listen, it's there) that cattle were raised just to provide fat for candles is ludicrous. The fat was a by-product, not a main one, and was often a butcher's side-line, while members of the Chandlers' Guild only worked with superior beeswax.

I don't think you could make candles like these with tallow:

...and you definitely couldn't make one meant to be hand-held.

Picture evidence shows, by their clothing, the class of society who bought these, and tallow-greasy fingers would have been a no-no.

A Chandler didn't make individual candles. By the time that fresh batch is hung up, the first batch away down at the end is cool enough to be dipped again.

A chandler's shop in a medieval city would look very similar, and often had a horizontal wheel on which to hang each batch of candles, rotating them up and around to cool, then back to the dipping pot. Non-modern people may not have had modern tech or time-and-motion studies, but they weren't stupid.

*****

By contrast, the podcast's disparaging attitude of WEIRD and PRIMITIVE is emphasised by what seems a deliberate avoidance of anything which counters it (examples of that in my own posts) and finally at 11.24 / 9:50 came this:

"Even when you get all the way to the 1700s (...) most people are still subsistence farmers, living in some kind of hut, trying to grow enough food not to starve to death (...) and light? Light still comes from finding stuff that's lying around and just lighting it on fire."

Some kind of hut...

Stuff that's lying around...

After making such a declaration, I'm surprised - since they'd been implying it for half the podcast - someone didn't just go ahead and announce that "there's some lovely filth down here..."

That's when I stopped listening.

Enough is enough, and I'd had it.

*****

ETA:

cc: @asmuchasidliketo :->

Here's a photo of what purports to be a Petrel (not petrol, that's something else) Candle, held in the Pitt-Rivers Museum, Oxford. It's mentioned in that scholarly article I linked above.

Just as "one swallow doesn't make a summer", so one - and only one - known example of this, which may have been a fake-up to spoof the Southerners, doesn't prove it was a common or even rare practice.

There's another reason to take this with a big pinch of salt, so maybe Jane Brox was on a low-sodium diet when she wrote her book.

Creatures with a layer of fat or blubber for insulation all have it like any other form of insulation, on the outside, where it does some good. A wick passed through the inside couldn't draw on it for fuel since there's a layer of muscle and another of internal organs for the oil to get through first.

The cropped-off bottle just visible to the left is a far more likely way seabirds became lamp fuel: by rendering out their oil. This oil is from the Northern Fulmar, Fulmaris glaciaris (or glacialis, I've seen both. Same bird regardless).

Incidentally, the Wikipedia article on European Storm Petrel mentions a supernatural connection, that the petrels were the souls of drowned sailors, and killing them is unlucky.

Not just killing them but making them into candles sounds like A Bad Idea, and is yet another reason why, IMO, the candle thing may be a folktale, or a deliberate leg-pull, or...

Let's just say "improbable" and leave it there. :-P

[sjscoyote]

Also tag any lines you quote from books! My family uses "Deathstalker luck, always bad" from Simon R. Green's Deathstalker Saga and "thrice cursed son of a Salset goat" from Jennifer Roberson's Tiger & Del books.

i love hearing what lines from film/tv people quote with their family all the time because they’re always niche and forgettable to everyone but that specific family

[itsonlydana]

Hey hey, saw ur requests were open for Thranduil and knew I needed to submit something!

Could you do a Thranduil x fem human reader where she braids her hair without knowing the significance for elves? They both have feelings for each other but neither has said anything, supper fluffy ending y’know?

Thank you in advance and have a great day!! :))

Beautiful misunderstandings | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem human!reader 👑

You simply wanted to accept an invitation to a celebration, but something about you makes the elves literally drop at your feet. Can Thranduil resolve this misunderstanding, or will he be affected as well?

tags/warnings: just lots and lots of fluff, no warnings

word count: 3,6k

an: to be honest, most of what i wrote is my own headcanons because i did not find lots about hair culture with the elves.. so please: educate me! Are there some hcs in the fandom? :)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The forests of Greenwood greet you with open flames of torches licking up their hot tongues against the dark skies, coloring the path the horse trots along in their amber lights and the wooden smoke that fills the air. Evenly distributed along the pathway they light up just enough of Greenwood that it doesn't take away from the sight that awaits you at the end, where the trees give way to an equally decorated bridge and the foliage thins out enough for you to take in the tall arches framing the open doors of the Great Elvenking's halls.

You have already been a guest for many of Thranduil's festivities ever since he established trading relations with your small fisher town. Due to the bond that twirls around the two of you in some unfathomable and complex manner, you also know that nothing he ever does is anything but grande and imposing. 

Still, you can't help but push your lower lip in between your teeth. 

Not once have you gotten the impression of standing out more than the difference in race and status already marked as obvious factors, neither Thranduil nor his elves treated you like you felt right now: 

Completely out of your known waters.

The elvish customs were far too many for you to know them all and you always try your best to consider all and everything that you've learned in the two summers you could consider yourself an acquaintance to Thranduil. Whatever form this acquaintanceship took on is another worry, or rather, another unknown that you can't exactly express to anyone. 

It's nearly as confusing as the steps of the dance you studied in your room before you left this morning, a step forward and two back, Thranduil asking you to accompany him to his dances but never dancing with you. 

Tonight, you want to change this predicament of always ending up in the arms of another elf while the one you yearned for watches from the sidelines! You didn't work this hard for the fabric that hugs your figure in a beautiful dress for nothing and even if the fabric isn't as shiny or light as the dresses the elves wear and the stitches marked your fingertips with the evidence of the labor and long nights, you are proud of the garment. 

The wind plays in the hem as you emerge from the guarded forest and its thick and dense foliage and it winds itself around your legs after you dismount your horse. A quick kiss to his muzzle, followed by an exhale of warm, familiar breath and you hesitantly let a servant take him away, mumbling a soft "Thank you" while you stay where you are and watch until they disappear around a tree.

Nervously you start walking up to the bridge, the reckless water under it crashing against the stone walls and it goes along with the blood that pumps high and fast through your body and rushes in your ears. The atmosphere is loaded, sizzling under the nearly suffocating heat that's only bearable in the cool shadows of the palace in front of you so you don't waste another second. 

You brush off the hood of your riding coat, smoothing out some fly-away hairs that escaped the braid you carefully weaved earlier this day as you duck your head in reverence to be allowed in these sacred halls. 

Whispers catch up to you from outside, a breeze dancing through leaves.

When you lift your chin again, you find that it's not the air affecting nature but rather your presence halting nearly all the elves that gathered on the first bridge inside the caves. 

They say elves are graceful and purposeful in their movements – the way dozens of eyes are locked onto you and lips move in not-so-silent murmurs defiles that claim though.

It's nothing you haven't encountered before, the talks behind your back that came along with Thranduil's attention shining down on you like the sun – hot, engulfing you completely and rendering you breathless as well as a bit sweaty at times whenever he looks at you, and you learned how to handle it. His attention brought forth a lot of awareness of his folk to the woman who visits Thranduil just as often as he rides into your town and becomes the topic of conversations for weeks. What's a girl to do except accept that a King never comes alone?

You're used to elves watching you, most of them in respect. Thranduil's authority radiates onto you, as well as the protection that he swore would lay upon you as long as he's there to give out orders.

The first elf whose eyes you questioningly meet drops to his knees in the same instant, barely a breath of time passing by. 

A gasp leaves your throat.

Words do not follow. They remain echoing in your head, pushed back by the spectacle that spread before you like wildfire. Too fast, too much.

Within seconds of you entering, the buzz of lowered voices dies down as elf after elf either bows or completely meets the ground they are standing on. The spectacle is confusing and throws you completely off; this reaction is nowhere near what you've experienced before and you do the first thing that comes to mind to handle this totally unsuspected confrontation of elves bowing to you, a human from no known family and nothing to your name other than the weight it carries on Thranduil's tongue.

The only thing you manage to stammer is: "Good evening," and a high-pitched, "Thank you?" before you take your legs into your hand and dash over the bridge. 

Thoughts as unstoppable as you run through your mind while you navigate the curving halls of the underground palace, the stonewalls not cool enough to diminish the heat that sits low in your neck, growing the longer you think about all that has happened between Thranduil and you and how it's not much more than nothing but a close alliance of human and elf. 

One that you hope would take on a different turn, because some of the actions by Thranduil could be considered friendlier than one would treat an ally or friend. You think back to all the gifts you have received, the white gems for example that, barely bigger than your nails but woven into the upper part of your braid, reflect the light and throw silver dots against the walls that lead you to the point Thranduil had asked you to meet him in one of his many letters. 

The route involves more encounters with more elves, some bow more subtly, their hands on their chest in a greeting that you do know, and some others, mostly those who've already fallen in barrels of wine and are less sophisticated in their movements in their drunken state who repeat the word "bereth" as if it's a prayer in a language that's far beyond you to make out right now. 

At the end of the hallway, you make out the back of a familiar blonde and even from afar you notice the resemblance that Thranduil's silver circlet has to the silver ribbon you have woven into your hair in a similar way and height how his circlet would look placed on your head. 

Is this what brought such uproar to the elves? Have you accidentally copied their king? 

"Thranduil!" you call out, his name lacking any title though not out of disrespect. You have the highest respect for the King of the Elves and slip a "Your Majesty" rather often into conversations because you know how much he favors his name from your tongue and teasing him like that brings a joy to you that you can't explain anyway else then: 

Hearing him laugh and smile or roll his eyes at your antics fuels the love you harbor for him.

Now is not the time for teasing chit-chat, you are desperate to find out if you have actually misstepped by presenting his gifts like this at a festival that's solely about him.

He turns at the sound of your voice and, oh lord, even his eyes widen as soon as they land on you and you want to perish rather than step any closer but the hurry in your legs and the nervousness in your stomach makes it impossible to do anything else but run to the one soul in this world that brings you comfort. 

You arrive at a full stop, and your heels would have stirred up dust if you were a mare. 

Now it's not only Thranduil's eyes that seem to have developed an inability to stray farther than your head; his mouth falls open as well and he makes no effort to close it again. The fact that this behavior is completely ungracious and ill-mannered has apparently not dawned on him yet. The longer you spend helplessly looking up at him, you swear you can see most of his thoughts visibly inching away behind that baffled expression.

At first, there's nothing.

Then some clarity returns into the blue eyes you love so much and Thranduil exhales a quiet: "Berio nin." 

Now, that's Sindarin you've heard before – that the context he has said these words were moments when he playfully begged the Valar to aid him with you tormented him in some way throws you off your balance even more and you take a step back. 

"I did not–" you start and raise a hand to wave it at all of you, "This, I had no idea. Did I offend you? Or the elves?" 

"Offend?" Thranduil asks bewildered.

"Well, the way they reacted. I wasn't sure," you laugh distraught. Thranduil's eyebrows instantly furrow, and you're quick to follow up: "Not in a bad way!" you explain and he loosens up, "They, um, they bowed? And some may have fallen to the ground?"

"Ah," he chuckles and his reaction calms you a bit. He could've been screaming or throwing you out. If he's laughing this can't be that big of a serious misstep. Thranduil looks at you through lowered lashes and runs his tongue over his teeth, a smile threatening to break through the serious expression he tries to obtain. "I believe a conversation and education is in order. If you would follow me to have this conversation somewhere else," he says and holds out his arm for you to grab.

He leads you around a corner and another one, walking swiftly yet seemingly in no hurry until Thranduil opens a door and quickly pulls you inside the room. 

Candles littered all around light up what you immediately understand to be his private chambers, the many robes you recognize, the colorful falcons with shimmering scented oils and shells full of jewelry, pearls, gems, and rings in gold and silver. There, right where Thranduil stops in front of you to block out your view, you take a peek at a giant bed behind flowy white curtains. 

You blush.

Even more so when you see Thranduil blush as well. His eyes return to your hair again, just like he had on the short walk to these chambers; tilting his head down to you as if some magical force bound him to staring at you in a manner he hadn't done before.

"You are my guest so I see it to be my responsibility to clear up what may have been a–" he pauses and his eyelashes flutter as he thinks of a fitting word, "a misapprehension. Not that you could have possibly known the outcome of what you doubtlessly suspected to be a kind gesture." 

You nervously cross your arms behind your back, intertwining your fingers so you do not meddle or ruffle the carefully layered fabrics of your dress. "I solemnly swear I was not up for any mockery."

His eyes widen again. "I would not have accused you of such!"

You tilt your head in confusion and bite down on your lip, ungraceful as well and a habit you should definitely quit, especially in the company of a King.

"What was it that startled the elves?" You think back to the way Thranduil had reacted, the wide-blown eyes, the pink lips formed to a delicate 'o' – "As well as you, Thranduil. You couldn't even get a word out except for a prayer." You let out a single laugh to cover up your embarrassment. 

The elf lifts his chin higher as if that could prevent you from noticing the blush deepening, growing much more red than just a delicate pink that stands out from his ivory skin but not much that it couldn't be interpreted as a light intoxication of either wine or fresh air. 

"I do not remember that," he lies with a dismissive voice. "Anyway, let me clarify the current dilemma instead of wasting time discussing the past." 

"Definitely not that far back that you could count it as 'the past' but sure," you sigh and decide to ignore the glare he sends you as you confront his very unsubtle passive- aggressive change of topic from him to you. Thranduil had centuries of building up a thickheadedness to lead the Woodland Realm and you had mere months on your hands in trying to push a way through it.

"Well, the behavior my folk portrayed was simply said the respect they pay for any honorable and eminent," Thranduil says, not batting an eye over the unbelievable words that come out of his mouth.

"What?" Your voice is nothing but a high squeal, "Why would they do that? They know I'm just a human!"

Thranduil scoffs, "Just a human, she says. Do not dismiss yourself in any way and most definitely not as just a human. Humans are such fascinating creatures, all those feelings compressed into an ephemeral life and bodies that endure pain and even if you waste away to dust you try to mark down your existence into every stone that you touch." Before you can burst into tears at his rather sentimental and emotional view of your people, he continues in a tone more factual: "To answer your question– you conveyed that I was courting you and they simply knew there would be grave consequences if they did not respect my intended." 

All the air left your body in a singular exhale, thus leaving you to grasp at the few thoughts that stayed through the cut-off of oxygen. Not that they were any good.

Courting you? Being his intended? 

You can only stare at him aghast. 

"But– courting? You weren't, we weren't– there was no courting!" you stammer.

The world is reeling. 

Black spots dance in the corner of your sight.

It takes all your focus to stand still and not sway back and forth, giving in to the abrupt slide downward reality has suddenly become. 

"No," Thranduil says.

A part of you withers at the finality of the statement because of course, he, Great Elvenking Thranduil, would never be caught courting a human. The absurdity of it must be why he was laughing earlier, praying to the Valar to become a witness of what must be your greatest humiliation.

"No, there was. I was simply waiting for your realization as well as acceptance to officially proclaim it."

Now it's your mouth that falls open without any strength left to prevent it.

Thranduil swallows, hard, his jaw set tightly and his eyes fixating on you. "All that I did, and thought to do, was in prospect of taking you as my betrothed," he states; the smallest of quivers underlining the massive impact this admission causes to him. He lifts one hand to his chest, pressing his knuckles against the fabric where underneath his heart lays. "I ache to love, treasure, and worship you. Every second of all the days I may have the pleasure of your company in my life or it shall be colorless from now on."

His eyes glitter, the endless blues of the sky, affection burning in them like the sun, broadening your horizon of what you believed love to be and there is no doubt in your mind that Thranduil's words are nothing but the truth. Confounding as that truth should be, it is that – certainty.

A smile breaks on your face, watery and wet as tears of pure happiness spill onto your cheeks and even if your heart has been on the tip of your tongue at every word you have ever said to him and in every glance that you have ever directed in his way, the need to validate his revelation.

You step carefully step closer and the hem of your dress brushes against his gowns as you close the bit of distance. Thranduil watches cautiously, leaving his hand against his heart, and only tips his chin down to follow you until you step into his personal space. The whole regal and stoic image he portrays even after confessing his love passionately mere seconds ago breaks as you feel his wavering breath and you swear you can hear the loud pounding of his battered-yet-strong heart. 

"Is it my hair?" you ask quietly and catch him off-guard. 

Thranduil smiles and his chest heaves in a deep inhale of air. "Yes," he laughs in an exhale, "Do you wish to know how you managed to completely dismantle me? Rob me of all powers?" 

You nod once and one hand of his comes to rest on your shoulder from where he leads you to a silver basin standing in a corner decorated with more oils and vines climbing the stone walls.

The sight that the clear water inside it shows you, Thranduil standing behind you, more than slightly taller, brings a warmness to your cheeks. Even if the prospect of his image finding a constant in your life from now on is undeniable, you're not sure if you will ever get satiated by it. 

Thranduil slowly reaches the elaborate braid you are so proud of despite the public tumult it had caused. "There are many things sacred to my folk and hair –" he starts and lets his fingers travel the length of free-falling hair, "holds the memories of our history, our connection to the Eldar and kemen – the earth. We do not cut it but rather let it grow to pay our respects to Eru for his creation, the natural and untouched world, flows in us all. It bears the marks of our ancestry though many cultures convey their personal history in many different ways." 

You listen intently, trying not to get distracted by Thranduil's hands smoothing your hair and the deep rumble of his voice wrapping around his language that pulls you into a trance. 

"Among us Sindar, we wave our customs into the very strands of this sacred hair. Our warriors, for instance, adorn themselves with tightly woven braids, serving not only as protection in battle but as a testament to their strength and unwavering discipline."

"The intricate and jeweled braids you wear," Thranduil's fingers glide along the white gems, thus nudging them against your head, "they speak volumes of noble heritage and high standing. Even if you do not have royal blood in your family, a braid like this will be more convincing to the contrary."

You blush as you realize how you unknowingly changed your entire status.

"By adorning your hair with the jewels I bestowed upon you, you declare to all my claim upon you," Thranduil chuckles and meets your eyes in the water, "Braids are the essence of our heritage, denoting rank and occupation, and they speak volumes in courtship."

"Oh," you say, "I knew Elves court through gifts. Would I have known this…"

Thranduil shakes his head, smiling widely as he continues playing with your hair, "You say that but not once have you realized all that I have given to you were of my pursuit."

"Well, I– this wasn't… I thought you were being nice," you sputter and grow even redder in the face.

"Unbelievably rude and ungracious to consider me ni–" he interrupts himself and shivers, "No I will not speak in such obscene language." Thranduil raises an eyebrow before returning his attention to the lesson in courting, "Through these intricate weavings, we convey our intentions and the profound depth of our bonds. While dalliances are not uncommon, my folk only marry once in their life."

"Love is eternal and unwavering, and each twist in our braids declares the union of our souls. By weaving your hopes and pleas for reciprocation into your hair, you speak a silent yet powerful language. The braid you chose, resembling my crown and adorned with my jewels and a silver ribbon akin to my own hair, could not have delivered a clearer message."

"So I basically lied to your elves," you pull a face in shame, "Great."

"You may call it a lie," Thranduil says slowly and his hands travel to rest on your shoulders. You lean into the gentle pull and let him turn you around so that you are face-to-face again. There is a dedication in his eyes, a look of hunger and yearning, "Or," his voice sounds even deeper and reverberates through your entire body, zipping up your spine that you automatically straighten, "You allow me to present our courtship openly if a deeper connection is what you desire to form between us."

Your heart thumps in your chest, double the tempo that one would call normal and it only speeds up when Thranduil cups your face in his hand and his fingertips graze the silver ribbon that sits tightly against your head.

"Allow me," he repeats, quieter. 

"Your word and the world will know you are mine," he pleads.

You waste not a second to ponder over what your heart already decided. "I allow it."

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[xspeter]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

basically, i’m trying to get into writing again and what better way to do it then taylor swift!! im not saying this will be updated regularly, or even SEMI regularly.. just kinda at my pace.

anywho, please enjoy these as they come out!

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 - 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐊

➤ 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which two former lovers have moved on and gotten with other people.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 - 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

➤ 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑-𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which dean winchester often finds himself in the same place.

𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒 - 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍

➤ 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which anthony bridgerton struggles to allow himself to open himself up, even to the first person he ever loved.

𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐃 - 𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐒

➤ 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which a certain small town girl can’t seem to get over her highschool lover.

𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍 - 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

➤ 𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which two souls work on learning to live without each other after an engagement goes up in flames.

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 - 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

➤ 𝐀 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 in which a private school girl falls for the gardeners son.

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 - 𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍

➤ 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐗-𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which a freshly divorced art finds his way back to the first girl he ever loved.

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐀 - 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐑𝐀𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑

➤ 𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which conrad fisher learns to live with the yearning, until one summer he learns there’s only one way to get what you want.

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍 - 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐔𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘

➤ 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which two private school kids enter a secret romance.

𝐖𝐇𝐎’𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄? - 𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑

➤ 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which sam becomes distant as he grows closer to ruby.

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐇𝐈𝐌 (𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍) - 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄

➤ 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐄𝐑-𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which a meeting with a vampire turns into a whirlwind romance.

𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐋 - 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

➤ 𝐀 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which peter parker can’t seem to let go of the girl he once knew.

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 - 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐎𝐍

➤ 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which the pressure finally gets to percy, leaving apollos favorite daughter to pick up the pieces.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 - 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍

➤ 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which you look back on yours and luke’s relationship before he left.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐘 - 𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘

➤ 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which cedric diggory goes above and beyond to win over a certain ravenclaw.

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐖 - 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄

➤ 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 in which two superstars meet once at a club, and then again at the grammys

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @amorchai 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞!

[baxndaid]

sal fisher x mean!reader?

reader is a bit of a bitch to be completely honest. that’s what sal loves the most about them 🤭🤭🤭 (perchance some smut with it xoxo)

sal fisher

x reader 🍤☁️🦢

— super bitchy reader

a/n ; i love bullying sal <33

- being a massive bitch to sally isn’t something that he was supposed to like, but he does, and it freaks everyone out

- he used to be snarky and insult you back but after a few days he completely stopped and just let you have your way with him without much of a fight

- you love to make fun of him, he’s just so pathetic, your favorite activity is tugging on his pigtails while sitting behind him in class and then quickly looking away like nothing happened

- you and your friends snicker but little did you know, the blush under sally’s prosthetic mask intensified as he found himself liking it a little too much

- his best friend, recently step brother larry, obviously noticed sally’s jittery behaviour and at first he thought it was because he was scared of you, but thanks to some detective work with ashley it was clear that he just liked you

- they tried their absolute best to talk him out of it,

“dude, did you hit your head? you like her? she’s a massive piece of shit!”

“right! she torments you every day! are you sure you’re feeling okay sally?”

sally didn’t exactly deny what larry and ashley told him, instead opting to just silently nodding whilst drowning out their voices and day dreaming. yes, you were awful and rough with him, but he loved it

- larry would try and guide sal away from you whenever he saw you in the hallways, but after a long while, he gave up and let sally be drawn to you like a moth to a flame, he didn’t like it, but he couldn’t stop sally from doing what he wanted

- and so, your torment continued without sally’s friends in the way

————

The halls were completely empty as the bells rang and class has commenced. Sally, despite his not so best efforts, found himself stuck between your arms and his back facing the lockers behind him. He didn’t bother to move or run away,

“Hey dumbass, what’s up with you? You look more repulsive than usual,” You asked, leaning in slightly. He looks around nervously, his glass eye lagging behind his real one as he stutters.

“Huh? What’d you say? Speak up!”

He flinched, his blush hardening under his prosthetic face and reaching his ears. He looked up at you, a little nervously but a hint of excitement present in his blue eye.

“Jesus…” You caress his red ear, “You into this or something?”

He looked at you and swiftly looked back at the floor again, you followed and looked down.

“…Fucking perv.”