#I am a domesticated house goblin

[draconic-ichor]

Trying to figure out how to draw myself…for some artist insert memes and such

For context, my husband has endearingly nicknamed me “goblin wife”. So here’s a little goblin Draconic:

[theg-unit]

141 (and friends) professional and  personal Specialty Headcannons.

also I dipped for a hot minute but I spent that time reading twitter thread fics like the internet goblin I am and falling into the multi shipper hole that is PriceNik and poly141 so here are more Headcannons about our favs. 

(also no I won't write Konig Headcannons, I don't like him. pls stop asking)

Areas of interest: academic and personal.

-soap is good at chemistry and chemical equations. the man has the periodic table tattooed on the back of his eyelids and nothing will stop him from making an IED out of literally the most random shit. also knows a concerning amount about atomic physics.  but he also has a passion for all poetry and writes little sonnets in his sketchbook for his partners.

-Price is really good at languages. he's a certified multilingual and is constantly learning. his favourite part is learning niche regional dialects. he is fluent in conversation in all major languages and can speak conversationally in at least 30 others. he also really enjoys horticulture. he can name 50 different grasses according to Laswell.

- Ghost specialises in trigonometry. he can do it mentally on the fly and often comes out correct. he uses it in his sniping, allowing him to be sent on more solo missions, without the need for a spotter. coincidently his secondary talent is navigation, he is bizarrely good at maps and geo guessing games but also used to do orienteering tournaments before his “death”. after the alone mission, despite only being told where the safe house was, ghost seemed to find his way there, without a map, from a city he had only been in for like a week. I like to think his internal sense of direction is like homing pigeon level. you could stick him anywhere and he could immediately find his way back. 

-Gaz is an all-round science man, a jack-of-all-trades. he has a comprehensive knowledge of biology, chemistry, physics, geology and the niche areas as well. zoology, astrophysics, ecology, palaeontology, psychology, genetics astronomy, botany, microbiology and the list goes on. you'll never meet someone with so much knowledge of the natural, social and formal sciences. he's not at university level but he has a thorough understanding of the concepts and case studies for all. he can comprehend the advanced concepts as well. its helped the 141 out of some tight spots. coincidently his personal interest is reading. his room on base and his apartment is full of academic journals and natgeo magazines.

-Alejandro. Mechanical engineering. The colonel of the Los Vaqueros can fix anything with duct tape and a prayer, but he also can build the most robust (and more importantly) high-functioning machinery. all repairs to their vehicles and heavy weaponry on base are done by Alejandro, simply because he doesn’t trust anyone else with the machines that keep his men safe. he also enjoys doing it, it gives him some time to wind down and just tinker with things. His secret talent is weaving and braiding. he was taught by his abuela to not only weave scarves and things like carpets, but also to braid her hair and his sisters once she got too old. (I head cannon him as the oldest and they all lived with their grandma cause their parents died.) he used to braid Valerias hair (as an mlm/wlw besties thing) before she betrayed them. he braided Gaz’s hair once they bonded over engineering.

-Rudolfo. Rudy is an expert in law. more specifically domestic and international criminal law, but he also keeps up with all legal disciplines. due to the proximity of Las Almas to the border, he also keeps up to date with USA law. He's a life saver in sticky jurisdiction missions. he also manages the compounds paperwork for requests. he has a silver tongue that translates to requisition forms. his personal passion is painting though. he feels that sometimes words aren't enough to describe things and loves painting landscapes and the little moments, like a flowering cactus in the middle of the night but also its death the next morning. he knows how fleeting life can be in his profession, and wants to capture all aspects. hopefully more with Ale if they retire.

-Laswell. Algorithms. typical of a spook Kate is an expert in cryptographic algorithms. she spent a few years as a cipher breaker/creator in her early career and hasn't lost her touch since moving to intelligence. all of her transmissions to her sources are hand encrypted and they have a key delivered separately. she creates them herself so that they can't be deciphered. she also does it completely in her head, nothing is typed out. her time off is spent back on her wife's farm, as her passion is animal husbandry. they raise goats, sheep, some assorted fowl and a smaller herd of cattle together.  she has an Australian Shepard and a kelpie/blue heeler dog that she trained herself. 

-Nik is an expert in psychology. not in your typical clinical way, but the body language, tone of voice, mindset and “takes one look and deciphers your whole life” way. His experience is immense and he applies it all the time. he can tell when a prisoner is lying in interrogation and when he's been made during undercover. Nik knows people, and frequently uses his observations to do things like blatantly walk into a restricted area with only confidence and a blank lanyard. the Russian is unparalleled in putting himself in the enemies mind space or pulling off dangerous acts in a crowded area. he’s been teaching gaz some tricks (e.g. the Amsterdam cafe mission). But on the side, he is an excellent barber. haircuts of any length and a full on old fashioned shave, with a straight razor and everything, is his special talent. he does price’s moustache, Jonnys mohawk (even though he thinks its ugly when short), learnt how to give gas a full hair treatment and even does Kates hair. he uses it for missions of course (its a great source of intel) but he also finds it to be a way to show care to his people. 

bonus:

Valeria: main specialty-economics and accounting. special interest-botany (but strictly focusing on poisonous and hallucinogenic plants)

Graves: main specialty: aeronautics. special interest-being a backstabbing bitch? jk, he's actually super into smoking and curing meats. if he had joined 141 he and ghost would have eventually found common ground there. (ghost actually enjoyed his career as a butchers apprentice)

anyway that's it for now, and I'll try upload more often. feel free to repost on other platforms with credit, my twitter @ is @macG_Unit. also let me know if anyone writes pics based off these, id love to read them. 

[braemjeorn]

CHAPTER XII [masterlist]

pairing: bang chan x ofc

genre/notes: general audience; regency period drama; family fluff; domesticity; ocassional angst; slowburn; governess!oc; nobility!BC; age differences; age changes.

wordcount: 2.2k

summary: the Bangs New Year mischief.

also available in ao3, if you prefer that format

© Do not repost, copy, or republish into another site or under another name.

⚠️ All characters that shares the name of real life person in this story are represented in a fictional manner for entertainment purpose, and not to be alluded with real life.

TAGLIST: @spookykryptoniteperson @nixtape-foryou @do-you-know-what-else-is-big

“Faster!!” Minho crowed, as his father dragged the sledge and the eldest atop it up to the hilltop.

“Minho, you’re quite capable to pull it up yourself,” Mari sighed, waiting for the two at the top.

The lad merely giggled, tumbling aside from his sledge into the soft snow.

“‘Tis fine Miss Son,” Commodore Bang said, grunting as he righted the sledge to face downward, then turned to Minho. “Shall we go down again?”

The lad nodded, grinning and happy like he was five. “Let's!"

“All right, then.” Despite her disapproval, Mari couldn't hide her smile. Giggling, Minho settled down in the front. The Commodore took the reins behind him, feet planted on the snowy ground to launch downward. “Ready?” The Commodore pushed, and their laughter carried on as they slid downhill.

“He’s my first child after all,” the Commodore mused to Mari, while Minho gaggled with the twins. ”He’s been very good to his younger brothers, but I ought to let him have more fun at times.”

Their relationship had improved much since the reconciliation. Mari was glad for it; Commodore Bang cosseted them an equal amount without care for age. Thus, despite entrusting Minho with more responsibilities as the eldest, he indulged and adored the boy. Not that there was anyone else to do it; there were few people around to whom Minho might let his voice trail off into a whine or laugh with childish glee.

“Look at them,” he chuckled as the boys took snowball fights to rain snows down each other's collars. “Those little goblins.”

“Your boys are a particular set, Commodore,” Mari acknowledged.

“Will you have your turn now, Miss Son?” Commodore Bang turned; Mari followed his gaze, towards one additional sleigh resting by a withered oak. In truth, Mari would like to slide down the hill on it, like she had years ago. The wild sixteen-year-old in her heart would soar at the chance. But as a teacher, she refrained with a curt smile.

“I should not, sir.”

“Come now. I would not think less of you for stumbling.”

Mari shrugged. “I may not be hesitant in my abilities, but there are other things I am considering."

“I only wish for you to share the thrill,” Commodore Bang said.

“I do not think it is necessary in my sedate age,” Mari laughed. A shriek came from down below—Yongbok and Jisung were tangled in a scuffle, shrieking and throwing lumps of snowballs at each other.

“I could not even persuade you with the sleigh,” Commodore Bang mused, unperturbed by the scene.

“Do you not think nine people and four horses are a bit precarious?” Mari laughed.

Commodore Bang had unveiled his two-seater cutter sleigh from the depth of his stable. Once polished and cleaned, took his boys on a ride to turn about the country. But despite the two rows of seats, Mari was still reluctant to ride alongside them. “I would not leave one of them behind. But now that I have returned, they would not leave me in the house.”

“When Minho’s old enough I shall get another one,” Commodore Bang decided. “A narrower sledge, for four of them to tuck in warmly.”

“Do not forget the bells.”

“Of course not,” he scoffed good-naturedly. “If a sleigh would not do, nor sledges, then there can only be one thing left to entertain you in this good winter...” 

Mari saw the Commodore in contemplation, which soon bloomed into a brilliant glint of mischief — much like Seungmin before he tucked into the biscuit jar. “Commodore?” she stammered, stepping back as he grinned wider. “W-What is it?”

Two days after he threw a large rock— at least five kilograms worth—to the frozen lake in the back garden. There was a loud boom as it landed far near the middle, but hardly a crack. The Commodore then tied up his skates and slid towards and around the rock. After a moment, his hand rose, calling the boys over. Hyunjin zoomed first with a whoop, followed by the twins. Mari sat down at the steps of the port, Minho having persuaded her to fit a pair of skates over her boots.

“Dear boy, I never knew how to skate,” Mari murmured.

“It’s like dancing, Miss Son, except without the steps,” replied Minho. Quite done helping her with the contraption, he offered her hand to help her up. “It’s great fun really, and not that scary after you’ve got some help to find your way around it. Don’t you worry—try standing up first—Appa and I will catch you whenever you need help.”

Mari was quite ready to kneel on the ice the second she rose—how does one keep their balance on these thin, long steels?

“You’re doing great!" Minho exclaimed assuringly. His feet were easy as he glided towards the others, hand steady despite her grip to guide her stiff legs. "Just keep your balance— now I’ll push you to Appa. (Oh, dear…) He’s a mere short way ahead, all you have to do is just—glide a bit by pushing your feet forward one by one. Then you can stop near him. Ready?”

“No…”

“I’ll push you, Miss Son.” Mari was grateful that the boy took care to warn her of the actions he will do. "You can do it."

Mari bit her own tongue from making any noise, heaven forbid a shriek. With only one moment to reign her panic before Minho pushed her, her foot stepped forward and her form slid. By the sheer force of Minho's push and her stiff, frightened figure, she managed to glide ahead for five seconds, after which she gave into reaching for the Commodore's hold.

“Caught you,” he chuckled, between her muffled wince. His hands held her by the elbow, righting up her poor jelly-like form. When Mari looked up there was amusement in his eyes, but it was not condescending. The man was in a merry mood, and Mari thought her incapabilities ought not to ruin such humour.

“The least I can do is not fall—the boys will worry,” she panted.

“You must not fear," the Commodore replied. "Minho is right. It is such great fun—but he’s a terrible teacher."

Mari suppressed a snort. Commodore Bang held one of her hands as the other hovered by her elbow; he steadied her to face the lake again. The boys were making merry with themselves, trying to outdo one another in whatever way they could manage. Even Jeongin skated quite well on his own, giggling as the others clapped when he made a smooth glide.

“Will you try again?” Commodore Bang offered. Mari was startled at hearing his voice so near. The sun hit his face, warming his dark eyes into honey-brown pools. It was but a half-second notice, but enough to make her conscious of herself. She turned away, muttering a  yes  in a flustered hope for distraction. The Commodore pushed his foot forward, and being in his hold, Mari followed with some alarm.

“I’m holding you well, have some courage,” he said, as they circled a bit farther around the boys. “Now, I’ll need you to march, push your right leg ahead, then your left... Go on, right and left, and right and left — go on ahead, don’t stop.” He manoeuvred his hold on her that she skates right by his side, and holding to his forearm instead. Mari had a firm grip on that arm, her eyes shifting between her legs and her track—the Commodore had a smile by the lilt of his voice.

“That’s a nice turn, go on, right, and left….”

Mari glided on, ceasing her movements and slowing her pace. She faltered again in trying to stop before crashing into a tree or the edge of the lake, but again a pair of strong hands steadied her.

“Got you!”

With heavy breaths Mari straightened again, pushing away the hair over her eyes and setting her screwed bonnet. Commodore Bang was showing her to stop in skates, and she nodded to his words, even while chuckling at her hesitance and her sudden halts of panic. But the Commodore’s eyes had kept the warm mirth, and he grasped her hand in encouragement.

“You shall do quite well, with that eagerness and a little practice.

“I think my feet have their own fright to overcome,” Mari considered, then laughed again. “But I understand now why Seungmin asked you to throw him back to the lake.”

“Pardon?”

“Like that time you swung him about in your arms, claiming you’d throw him out of the water. He was screaming out of his wits when you swung him away and laughed his head off when you clasped him back. But the shameless lad asked you to swing him again like it was fun being induced to scream his head off.”

“A thrill, perhaps?”

“Yes.”

Commodore Bang chuckled. Mari looked ahead to the boys, circling each other in their own games or racing by the outskirts of the lake. Minho paused to wave and grin at meeting her eyes.

“Chin up, Miss Son,” said the Commodore. His hold moved to her elbow again to push her away. “And look ahead. Why don’t you try to go over to Minho?”

Mari managed to make a turn by herself at the end of the day and returned to the house with delight and fatigue set in her. It was a day well spent, exerting and pleasant all the same. But the boys had no notice of weariness and went to play with their toys by the fire. Mari settled under her shawl with some tea and rice cakes. Commodore Bang sat with the eldest two on the couch. He had obtained school recommendations from his friends and currently disclosing the specifics; there were concerns over the distance and the tuition, with occasional comparisons to their previous school. Mari attended and contemplated on her own, relishing the warm tea flooding her mouth.

“I should inspect these two schools—and B– School too, to see if their offers are worth the expense,” settled the Commodore. “Once the snow melts, possibly.”

“A high price does not guarantee high quality,” Minho remarked.

“Quite right, that is.”

“Unfortunately, it would be hard to know exactly the quality offered under such pricing,” Mari mused.

Changbin turned to her. “How to distinguish them then, Miss Son?”

“I’m not sure… To judge by the impression you receive the first time?”

“If you are a good judge of character, that is,” Commodore Bang returned.

They shared a glance, and with some embarrassment, Mari became conscious of herself. But the Commodore’s eyes were mirthful—teasing man.

“I would not vouch for myself,” Mari mumbled.

“Appa, can I go to school?” Seungmin piped up. Commodore Bang turned to him and called the lad upon his lap. Seungmin bent himself over his thighs instead, hanging his arms over one side while his legs slouched.

“Of course. When you’re eleven years old.”

“No—I want to go with Minho and Changbin-hyung.” the child insisted.

“If you go, then what will Miss Son do?” Commodore Bang's gaze flitted back to her.

“She’ll stay with Jeongin, no?”

The youngest was sitting beside her as she assessed the tear on his fox, looking up with confusion at the mention of his name.

“But if you go, soon enough Jeongin will want to follow,” Commodore Bang said. “If you all went to school, then what would she do?

”Then you keep her company,” Seungmin decided nonchalantly. Minho and Changbin snorted at the words. The Commodore sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in embarrassment. But his humour was apparently spurred as well, for his body shook with laughter as he tickled Seungmin. The boy cried and giggled, lighting the hushed with commotion.

“Easy for you to say,” Mari sighed, rubbing her temples. Even so, the flippant suggest both amused and despaired her. Seungmin was a complete master of the menace he embodies, with his innocent air and a toothy little smile.

“You be Miss Son’s student!" he said when he turned to Mari. "Appa’s a bit old and boring but you won’t mind,  ssaem , won’t you?”

Commodore Bang’s laugh pitched higher. “Seungmin-ah…!” he bemoaned.

Mari shook her head. This child... “I’d tease your father less than you, that is certain. The Commodore and I will survive.” She leaned to the child across her, pleading with her face, “But then I will miss you terribly, Min-ah, then what shall I do?”

Seungmin paused at the remark, then muttered that he might come home for the seasonal holidays. Commodore Bang settled down from his glee to tighten his hold upon the child, exhausting his adoration. The child was not pleased, but he was then hoisted up his father's shoulder, head down to the floor. The Commodore rose while hauling him so, and as Seungmin laughed and begged to be put down, the others were ushered along to nap.

“I don’t think I should play with him anymore,” Jeongin declared quietly by Mari’s side. He held her hand as they exited the room, the fox plush in his other.

“Why so?” Mari asked.

“I’m going to be six soon,” he said. “That’s too old for a plush no?”

“I suppose it is.”

“Well, then. And Mr Ennie gets old way faster than me—he’d better rest by my bed instead.” Mari might only pry the fox away when the youngest is to attend school. But Jeongin's hands were empty the next morning, much to his brother's bewilderment. His fingers fiddled often but his mouth deflected determinedly at his brother's despair. Commodore Bang let out nothing but a long sigh. Either warmed or in agony at the youngest growing up.

commodore bang: flinging off weights away and along with him in an unconscious attempt to preen/flirt. this man, really. but sparks are sparkling, yes?

i hope you like this update. we only have seven more!! let's get to it, braem!! please look forward to it, and please stay healthy and happy ^^

[superpeanutgarden]

Night Blogging

okay, *technically* I'm not using the term right. It's an old phrase from before we called it Shitposting- we blamed all the weird stuff on sleep deprivation and Australians lmao

But it's night, and I'm blogging, so here we are.

so if you've read my other long posts, you'll know I'm in multiple open polyamorous relationships... and that I'm having what one might call "a hoe phase" and an accompanying crisis about if I still have worth if I'm a slut.

Well now im having a whole different (but still slut-adjacent) crisis. Do I even know what romance is????

This didnt come out of nowhere. My girlfriend mentioned that I was dating around as though I was single several months ago. And today she- wisely- brought up that i am at risk of girl bossing too close to the sun. and I had already been thinking about how my sibling had said that our parents didnt really model romance for us, and that we were told that romantic love is just kissing your best friend. And to be clear: I TOTALLY am. I'm not lonely or touch starved or sad or maidenless (or lad-less) in any sense of the imagination.

So... why am I still pursuing people??

The tree i can understand. He's a fun fuck, and he travels the renfaire circuit so I wont see him all the time. No chance of a solid relationship, just a fun easy breezy fling.

The lookout? Similar thing. Super fun to make out with and fine as HELL, but he lives like three hours away and doesnt seem interested in going steady. I can work with that

Max is PolySaturared and we just make out when I'm over for house parties, which isnt as often as I'd like but I'm desperately trying not to have too much of a crush on him (or his wife... or his girlfriend... or his other partner) so it's fine (jesus, maybe I'm not Ace, maybe I am just autistic)

Theres my good ex and my middle school bestie, but they're hella busy and our schedules havent really lined up. Disappointing, but acceptable.

The thing these people have in common is that they are almost entirely unavailable for me to date!! Until literally a month ago I was under the impression that I was just chasing the dopamine of New relationship Energy with ethically renewable sources and I could get my cozy domestic stability from my lovely girlfriends and partner...

And then trumpet guy and I made out at one of Max's house parties.... and Then I went on two dates with The Goblin King after making out with him and the Tree at the same time on NYE. And like??? It's so weird to say that I dont think either of them are stupid hot???? (But only one of the three people I'm dating is Stupid Hot, so there is precedent but?) It feels kinda weird and disingenuous to want to spend more time with these people who I'm not crushing on

And yet im Quickly falling head over clown shoes for trumpet guy. He's cute and fun and he asked me out on a date to dress way fancy and get sushi and go see a musical and???? I had just been telling a classmate that I didnt feel like I had been properly romanced since high school and?????? While I'm an impatient slut, it feels nice to be pursued.

The goblin king is really fucking sweet, and he's got really nice hair, but I'll wait to try talking myself out of liking him until after our next date... (too late, cant unthink that. I'll bring it up in person. He's really cool and I do want to still be his friend, but we both live with parents who would NOT get it so that kinda makes it hard to have solo couple time... or any couple time. It's not like I have to make a choice anytime soon but the dude deserves to know that I'm not sure if there's anything for us beyond friendship and the occasional kiss. Heck, we've only made out the one time and not even just us.)

Anyway, what's tumblr for other than an online diary??

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition. 

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

[the-unicorns-of-nienna]

Theory: “Vampire” Bats

“Soon actual darkness was coming into a stormy sky; while still the great bats swirled about the heads and ears of elves and men, or fastened vampire-like on the stricken.”- The Hobbit, chapter 17: The Clouds Burst.

I am far from the first to suspect that these bats are not actual vampire bats as we know them.

All known species of vampire bat are native to the New World tropics. Furthermore, while vampire bats have been documented feeding on human blood; they only do so when their usual prey (ungulates and birds) are scarce, and they certainly don’t go out of their way to bite people.

However, I do think that there is, or more accurately, was a real bat species that fits the description of the bats from “The Hobbit”.

Necromantis lived in Europe and North Africa during the Eocene. While Eocene Europe was much warmer and wetter than modern Europe, Necromantis still wouldn’t be as geographically misplaced as an actual vampire bat would be.

This large bat was almost certainly a carnivore; with strong jaws and sharp teeth. Many scientists theorize that Necromantis was an active hunter of smaller vertebrates, similar to the modern spectral bat. However, an older theory-from which Necromantis derives its name, meaning “Death Eater”-holds that this bat was a scavenger. The behavior demonstrated by the bats in “The Hobbit”-following larger predators, and preying on the dead or dying-is perfectly in line with that of many scavengers.

These bats being at least similar to Necromantis would also explain why the orcs tolerate their presence to begin with. Its unlikely that they would appreciate being followed by bloodsucking parasites; but a small hunter and scavenger would provide useful pest control and garbage disposal services, similar to the ancestors of domestic dogs and cats.

For the Goblins of the Misty Mountains, the benefits of living with the bats wouldn’t stop at cleanliness. With their keen hearing, bats could provide an intruder alarm for orcs living deeper in the cave. The bats might be trained to carry messages, similar to the birds employed by other races. Even bat feces can be a valuable resource: nitrogen-rich guano can be used as fertilizer, food for edible insects, and even as a source of raw ingredients for gunpowder!

The bats, in turn, would gain protection from predators and rivals; in addition to a reliable source of food. Orcs might even provide veterinary care to sick or injured bats; and build bat houses when natural roosts aren’t available.

Thus, two demonized species work together for mutual survival in a harsh, rapidly changing world.

[realcube]

comfort with the haikyuu!! boys hcs 💝

characters: kenma, bokuto, ushijima, tsukishima, akaashi

thanks to anon for the request (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

ALL AGED UP! (no mature themes though) (i just like the post-timeskip domestic dynamics)

tw// hurt! reader, swearing, mentions of death, fluff, angst if you squint

Kenma Kuzome

bb has cat senses so he can tell when you’re sad

he can also tell bc you do the exact same thing he does when he’s sad, which is cuddle underneath blankets in bed, play animal crossing and blare lo-fi music to conceal your faint sobs

so when he walks into your shared room and notices you wrapped up in blankets on the bed, he does his best to suppress a snicker whicH HE FEELS SO BAD FOR HAVING IN THE FIRST PLACE

like he knows you’re sad but a part of his mind is just like ‘heh, (y/n) burrito.’ like you just look sO FKN CUTE!!

anyway, the first thing he always does when you’re down is approach you on the bed, sneak under the blankets and join to you to become a (y/n) & kenma burrito 

also, he might turn the speaker off depending on how loud the music is lol but if it’s at an okay volume then he’ll just leave it on and vibe with you for a bit as he desperately wracks his brain, trying to come up with something reassuring to say 

you usually comes up with the something basic like, ‘what’s wrong?’ but i mean, you don’t really mind - at least he’s making an effort and you know it must be difficult for him to think of things to say lol

depending on how sad you are, you might just tell him straight-up what happened or you might text him bc you don’t think you’ll be able to choke out an answer without bursting into tears again

then he’ll ask you if you want to be alone and act accordingly 

assuming that you say ‘no’ bc you want his presence, he’ll just recollect on the last time you comforted him while he was down and mimic it tbh

..you always comfort him so well 🥺 and whenever you console him, he always feels so much better so he just thought that maybe if he imitates you, then it’ll work just as well

so he started off by resting his head on your shoulder and whispering kind things in your ear just like you did to him, ‘you know i love you, right?’ , ‘i hope you feel better soon’, ‘do you want me to bring you some food?’

he’ll seriously do everything in his power to make sure that you’re as comfortable as possible 

and he’ll stay as a (y/n) & kenma burrito until you feel better or until the sun rises  ( *^-^)ρ(*╯^╰)

Kōtarō Bokuto

i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again - he’s such an empath and so overdramatic

so when he comes home from work and you don’t run up to the door to give him hugs & kisses- he’s about to burst into tears himself

so he sulks up to your room now IMAGINE HOW SHOCKED HE IS WHEN HE WALKS IN TO SEE YOU CRYING UNDER THE BLANKETS

emo-mode engaged :(

his hair deflates as he pounces on you and wails, ‘(Y/N)! WHY ARE YOU CRYING?! ARE YOU OKAY?! WHO HURT YOU?!’ (ಥ _ ಥ)

and the bitch dives on you while you are under the blanket, essentially scaring and suffocating you 

‘bokuto, get off me!’ you shrieked, wriggling out of his grip and out from under the blanket

 when he notices you had escaped the blanket with tear-stained cheeks, he felt even worse 

he threw himself into your arms, howling, ‘(Y/N)!! I AM SO SORRY!’

at this point all the blood had rushed to your head and you had kinda forgotten that you were sad for a moment or two

‘bo! you should know you’re own strength by now.’ you muttered, rubbing the underneaths off your puffy eyes

‘I KNOW!’ he wailed once more, burying his face into the crook of your neck

you sighed while rubbing his back, unable to supress a slight giggle, ‘bokuto..’ 

there was ages of silence between the two of you before he pulled away to look you in the eyes and asked, ‘(y/n), why were you crying before i got here?’

you’d explain the issue to him and he’d do everything in his power to solve it because the way he sees it, why should he try console you when he can just fix the variable that’s making you sad in the first place?

like, if you were just fired from your job, he’ll go full karen and he will call corporate to demand for your job back if you don’t stop him

or if your loved one died, he’ll become a fkn medium or study resurrection

or if you’re just stressed from exams/tests, he’ll just be like ‘why do you need to go to uni anyway?’

‘so i can get a qualification.’

‘why do you need that?’

‘so i can apply for a job.’

‘why do you need a job?’

‘so i can make money, so i don’t starve.’

‘you can have my money!’

you couldn’t help but chuckle at how much life-experience bokuto had, yet he will still so naïve; honestly, you couldn’t even tell if he was joking or not. ‘what if we break up?-”

“DON’T SAY THAT!” he gasped, instinctively tightening his grip on you

Wakatoshi Ushijima

both you and ushijima’s pride did not allow y’all to cry in front of one another 

if you ever had to cry, you’d just run to the bathroom, lock the door, turn on the tap to drown out the sound of your sobs and just let it all out

and if he ever had to cry, he’d just do it in the shower

but like- you both knew when the other one had been crying because of their puffy, damp eyes but you both mutually agreed to not mention it

i mean, up until now y’all had both been able to flourish in the relationship while dealing with emotions on your own so why bother changing?

and if anything, you both felt more comfortable crying to yourselves

 that was, until today

you had cracked under the pressure of your job - you were simply sitting at your desk in the study room, doing some work then it all just came crashing down

ushijima had just stepped out of the shower in his towel and was currently wandering around the house in search of you, to inform you that he ran out of shampoo so it would be greatly appreciated if you were to add it to the shopping list 

but when he entered the study to see you sitting there by your computer, bawling you eyes out..he froze

like he had to do a whole double-take bc he wasn’t sure if he was seeing this correctly

your face was buried in your hands so you didn’t notice him at first but then you heard him awkwardly clear his throat from the doorway and your neck immediately jerked to look at him

it was quite embarrassing for the both of you, ngl

like he was standing there half-naked, staring into your red eyes in hopes that what he saw was just a hallucination

after what felt like hours of deafening silence, ushijima broke it by muttering under his breath, ‘uh, is everything okay?’

‘everything is fine, toshi.’ you replied, forcing a bright smile onto your face as you went back to typing, ‘did you come down here to tell me somethi--’

‘i can tell that there is something wrong.’ he stated, walking towards you while using one had to hold his towel in place and draping the other over your shoulders to pull you into his chest. ‘do you want to tell me?’

you let out a long sigh, resting your cheek against his chest while still staring at the many tabs you had open on your desktop 

but ushijima quickly fixed that by taking your chin in-between his thumb and index finger, then turning your face to look up at him, 

‘work?’ he hummed his assumption

‘yeah.’ you mumbled, quite surprised at how understanding he was being

but then again, ushijima obviously knows what it feels like to be overworked and burnt out too, so he was able to provide a lot of empathy in that sense

Kei Tsukishima

ok a bit of tsukki slander but i feel like tsukishima would make it worse WEILUBRGBE

wait no well, he doesn’t make it worse but he doesn’t make it better either

like he’ll walk into the living room and see you curled up under a blanket on the couch, lightly sobbing from underneath- and he honestly doesn’t know how to act

this is the first time he’s seen you cry bc usually y’all keep your emotions to yourselves - you’re both v independent like that （￣︶￣)

anyway, mans thinks he can just tease the sadness out of you 🙄

‘awh, is my little couch goblin feeling sad?’ he said shakily, clearly intimidated by your figure lying on the couch, and you could tell he was nervous per his use of the nickname ‘couch goblin’

‘‘TSUKISHIMA, FUCK OFF!’ you barked, hastily wiping away your tears and clinging to blanket to prevent him from pulling it away, as the last thing you wanted him to see was your weary figure just so he could tease you about it 

‘bitch, i live here.’ he hissed, rubbing the back of his neck - feeling rather conflicted

on one hand, you seemed serious when you asked him to leave; plus, the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable by staying when you’re already sad

but on the other hand, he genuinely wanted to help

he’d feel bad if he were to just leave his s/o in tears when he could’ve done something to make you feel better 

‘do you really want me to go?’ he asked and for a change, not a hint of mockery or sarcasm was found in his voice

there were several moments of silence until you mumbled from under your blanket, ‘no.’ then proceeded to lift up your arm to allow him to crawl under the blanket and join you

he did so, pulling you against his chest so you could sob lightly against his cotton shirt while being engulfed by warm darkness

‘what could’ve possibly went wrong to make the evilest blanket demon cry?’

‘evilest blanket demon’ - that was definitely a new one, and you’d be lying if you said a small snicker didn’t escape your mouth at how monotonously he was able to deliver such a unique nickname

and after years of being in a relationship with tsukki, you’ve learned to find comfort in these nicknames considering they were a big part of how he expressed love 

in his vocabulary, ‘you’re so annoying.’ is equal to ‘i love you’

so him calling you an ‘evil blanket demon’ was, in his eyes, the highest and most sincere form of flattery

you eventually tell him what happened that made you sad and he just listens 

feel free to ramble on about anything/everything that’s worried you for the last few months bc he’s all ears 

he figured that other than make you dinner and hug you, that was the best thing he could do to help bc he was far from a romantic who’s good with words 

if he tries to console you verbally it would probably come out like ‘uh, don’t cry - i understand what you’re going through, i think, but like- cry if you want. this must be tough for you, to be honest.’

so he just listens to what you have to say and occasionally inputs a lil’ ‘mhm’ or ‘yeah’

he’s probably the most patient with you so you could stay sad on the couch for the next few weeks, as long as you’re eating the meals he delivers to you and you’re staying healthy, he’ll just let you mope until you feel better tbh

Keiji Akaashi

boyfie material right here

i’m hardly an akaashi simp but he’s probably the best at comforting you while you’re sad tbh

because he’s literally been dealing with bokuto and his emo-mode for god-knows how long so he’s very good with reassuring people😌

also, i just know that this man can detect emotions so well- evEN THROUGH TEXT ISTG

he’d text you the usual ‘goodnight ❤’

and you’ll quickly wipe away your tears that were blurring your vision to reply ‘goodnight 💕’ 

then he’ll deadass text back like ‘i’m coming over. what’s wrong?’

HE JUST KNOWS!! don’t question it bc he doesn’t even have a logical answer lol

anyway, he’ll arrive and immediately begin with the reassurance before you even tell him what’s wrong 

‘you’re coping so well, (y/n).’

‘i’m so proud and i love you so much.’

‘is there anything i can do to make you feel better?’

‘would you like a hug?’

‘you’re beautiful, (y/n). i hope you know that.’

‘do you want me to get you ice-cream?’

a king- 👑

also, you weren’t embarrassed to cry in front of him either bc you had seen him cry before 

plus, y’all both established at the very beginning of the relationship that you’d both try be as honest and open with your emotions as possible

so now, you were both sitting beside each other on your bed while sharing a banana split that akaashi made (you put the sprinkles on though so you basically gave it flavour ✨)

akaashi is definitely the therapist friend to so he gives great advice 

but if you don’t want his advice and you’d prefer him to just listen, then he can do that too 

honestly, he’d do basically anything to make you feel better 🥺

[skipthisvoid]

Alrighty I am going to do my best to explain my thoughts on this-

What Arcane often does is take something that real-life that society is bigoted against and then show the humanity in those same people. This is a type of counter-narrative. This is when the story "presents a different perspective or interpretation of events that directly contradicts your existing beliefs, forcing you to re-evaluate your understanding of a situation or topic."

"They aim to disrupt established stories or viewpoints that might be considered biased or oppressive by offering alternative interpretations. Fields like critical race theory, feminist studies, and postcolonial studies frequently utilize counter-narratives to highlight marginalized perspectives."

(A key example is drug addicts, being set up in the first few episodes to align with the disgust society has for them, only later to twist your perspective around and make you feel like you were wrong. You end up feeling sympathy for them, which brings the watcher to have to rework their worldview for the rest of the show.)

The Undercity in routinely proven to be a place that has incredibly brilliant people, families just trying to get by, etc. but they just haven't been given the same opportunities as topside, so they turn to less desirable means of making a living. Within the series we are often given small pieces of daily life within the Undercity, especially the domestic moments, to make a connection that they are also just people.

Okay onto the brothel- The "goblin" in question is named Babette. We are given our initial "narrative" that she is gross, either because she is a sex worker, she is not a typical human, she is old, or all three. What happens later in the show is that it is revealed not only is Babette the mother of the house and is incredibly important to protecting those who work under her, she also knows the main character's father figure and looks up to him. It is implied there is mutual respect (an implication because at this point in the story, said father figure is dead and can not verbally confirm) between these two important people for the Undercity.

Once inside the brothel, it is shown to be like any other place of business. The workers are professional, the place is maintained well with all sorts of different options for people to pick from, (regardless of gender preference) and if clients treat workers inappropriately, they are thrown out. (Like during the scene in question.) So the first time we see this location, the narrative tells us "oh-ew gross we know that sex work is dirty and bad and the neighborhood is poor so these people are bad and gross" but later we have the counter-narrative of "actually this is a well respected and important part of the Undercity's economy, and the workers here are treated (and paid) well for the service they are providing."

SO when we come back to the original scene, we now align morally with the trans woman and Babette, and also think its funny that this man has gotten kicked out of a well respected establishment. He must have done something without realizing they take the rules seriously, and he won't be allowed back. Sucks since this place is the best in town!

Side note for the "look of disgust" coming from Claggor, the 'main' character mentioned above. Claggor is 14-16 years old. He isn't so much as disgusted as he is just shocked! He also is a very very shy and soft spoken boy. Being in the Undercity, and with Babette being friend's with his adoptive father, he knows what sex-work is. He is shy of it, he knows he is a minor. It is dark and not well lit, Babette might not be able to see him well so she smiles at him anyway. OR, since later in the show we find out she knows his father well, she is intentionally fucking with him knowing he is shy and is gonna be all weird about it. Either way, I wouldn't say he is reacting in disgust. He is just an awkward teen being awkward.

I am torn on the depiction of the transwoman. On one hand, I see how the art they used can be considered a bad stereotype. BUT I do also know someone who is doing the best they can with the body they currently have, and this is what she looks like! And thats also perfectly okay and fine! She exists, thats what she looks like at this point in her life, and she hasn't decided if she is going to make any further changes. (If she wants to speak more on this she can- I personally don't wanna go to deep into it on her behalf.) I think it is working as the same counter-narrative. We are shown this masculine woman who works in the sex industry, and feel the initial reaction society wants us to. Then later, we find out, oh shit, these workers are important and well respected! She is doing a good job for her current situation in the Undercity!

I feel like I am running out of things to say in this very moment but I DO want to also take a second to say we see a different portrayal of mtf transition later in the series. Her name is Lest. The difference here is that Lest is top-side, where there are a lot more opportunities and money. This is apparent in her ability to transition to what society considers "passing", as well as her clothing. She is also voiced by a trans woman! (Eve Lindley)

Blehg I just kinda wanted to spill some of my thoughts over this show since I adore its use of literary devices, ESPECIALLY the counter narrative. I hope this kinda made sense and didn't sound rude at all.

i just did something i promised myself i'd never do and intentionally watched a scene from Arcane, to see just how bad the transmisogynist joke in the first episode is -- and people are absolutely 100% playing it down.

the characters are walking through a dark, seedy part of a city, and reacting in fear to a bunch of scary, dangerous & unsettling things, like a monster scuttling in a cage & vendors selling huge knives, before panning to these two women standing outside a brothel.

the small gremlin lady makes a pass at one of the cast, who immediately reacts in visible fear and disgust and runs away. then, a drunk man wearing no pants is kicked out of the brothel, being told that he has to pay. the woman on the left responds (with a deep, masculine voice) "look at that" and reacts in disgust to him. the crux of the joke here is "haha it's rich that this gross tranny thinks this drunk man is gross, because SHE and her little gremlin friend are gross! lol!".

it is a transmisogynistic joke on the level of the ugly step-sister in Shrek. i shouldn't have to explain this. holy shit.

[hurgablurg]

okay so Owl Thoughts I guess because i am physically shaking while I type this

Foist, a CLIFFHANGER?? FOR A SERIES SEASON FINALE??? BOLD BOLD BOLD BOLD BOLD BOLD BOLD BOLD!!!! AND YET TRAGEDY! FUCK YOU RAT-MOUSE CAPITALIST FUCK DISNEY.

I legitimately thought that this was the series finale, and for a whole half hour thought “Oh my god, that is incredible, like an open floodgate for fanfiction.”

I wasn’t sold on the Collector at first, because i really do hate “childlike god” characters, but that outfit has put it ALL in perspective for me. The outfit, the pronouns, the power - that’s kids a FUCKING WIZARD. Every possible question about their behavior can be answered with “he’s a wizard”! And on this blog, we STAN an irresponsible master of the arcane!! Fuck it up little guy! Get all the fun out before you’re locked in a crystal prison or sniped in the Wildy or something. Wizards live fast and die in-a-young-or-old-extreme-median-like-infant-mortality-affecting-medieval-average-life-expectancy and to the benefit of everyone around them.

Also, FUCK. BELOS IS BACK. Little slimey fuck is back in the human world. As a goo-bitch, which will lead to some way more interesting character dynamics as the little hitler will be forced to confront his inhumanity and pay for his crimes.

Speaking of Whittlebanes, THAT WAS A FUCKING LOT OF GOLDEN GUARD MASKS. WAY MORE THAN 16. He was murdering kids left and fucking right!!!!

Kikimora and the Coven loyalists all got a taste of the ultimate fate that awaits sub-villains: being tossed away like a c*mrag with a “you really thought I did more than barely tolerate you...?”

We’ll see if this leads to a heel-face turn or not. Some of their crimes are too extreme to be forgiven. I wanna see that flora lady get lit up like a blunt. Kikimora is on the teetering edge though, and only because I like goblins.

And GOD, everyone is left absolutely hanging in the Isles. Eda can probably get a new arm? But CATTS has taken some damage, King is MIA and the Collector is in complete control.

Though, I’m fairly certain it’s going to turn out that everything is okay. The collector is an irresponsible wizard-child, yes, but he also has King to lead him right. He was promised to play “The Owl House”, which sounds an awfully lot like just a domestic slice-of-life thing, especially with King instructing them on how to “play”, which will probably be just “let it run and see what happens, minimal interference”. If the little fucker can find hide-and-seek fun, then they’ll be blown away, captivated for century by The Sims™ in the way Maxis intended. No deleted pool ladders here!

With the next 3 specials (?) on good old Earth, we can get some more fish-out-of-water shenanigans with the kids (Gus especially), plus, we can finally see more of Vee! 120 minutes to fill out sibling relationships, lets goooo.

The breaking-bread thing on the airship was cute! It’s not in my culture so it did feel a little awkward on first viewing, but I know communal eating like that is a big thing for the vast majority of people, and a sign of strong family.

And, being set in the human world with a principle villain hiding in the woods, it does make it infinitely easier for my Hunter: The Parenting X The Owl House fic to actually happen. We’ll see how slimeboy faces off against a bunch of meddling magical kids AND some absolutely unhinged Imbued.

Fuck this was all so wild, I love it!

[profgandalf]

What Makes a Truly Satisfying Christmas Story?

I despise the tripe that passes as most Christmas stories. A quick search on Netflix, Prime, or Tubi will produce a massive collection from which to choose and most of them are just awful. This pains me because I love Christmas ““the whole Christmas season!” and most of the fixings that go with it.  However so many Christmas narratives are both stale, predictable and fail to connect with the central essence of Christmas.

If it’s a romantic narrative then a couple will have some sort of difficulty during the holidays and will overcome it by the end through the intervention of either an unexpected plot twist of goodness, a supernatural elf, or even a visitation by Santa himself.  Something must pull the protagonists’ bacon out of the fire at the last minute. Economic or domestic difficulties are all solved.  Meanwhile, how many times has the holiday itself been saved by one character or another? Ernest saves Christmas, Frosty saves Christmas, the Martians save Christmas (actually Santa saves Christmas from the Martians) and so it goes. One almost gets the sense that the celebration of Christ’s birth is a porcelain figure rather than our rugged religious holiday.

Part I Successes are Few

Only Charles Dickens, with The Christmas Carol in Prose, ever managed to write a non-overtly religious narrative that successfully embraces the central power of the holiday.  I would suggest the truth of this in its enduring fame and multiple renditions since it’s publication.  Furthermore, Dickens’ success seems to have eluded him in most other tries.  After 1843 Dickens composed Christmas stories multiple times which were financially so successful that his Christmas presentation became a staple in Victorian England.   However, most modern critics admit that A Cricket on the Hearth, The Chimes, The Haunted House, The Struggle for Life, and the Haunted Man do not rise to the power of Scrooge’s transformation.  In fact, most readers have never heard of these other Dickensian Christmas offerings.  (Only The Cricket ever made it as a Rankin and Bass special.)  

Furthermore this failure should not be connected with any sense of the growing cynicism within the author.  Not even the Christmas chapters from The Pickwick Papers (which predates “The Carol”) such as hearty and boisterous ““Christmas at Dingy Dell” nor the fantastic transformational story "The Goblins Who Stole a Sexton" hit the nose on the head in the same way that Scrooge’s story does. “The Carol’s strength comes from Dickens’ channeling the holiday’s spiritual center. That spiritual center comes from the original Christmas narrative and believer or not if if an author is going to write such an effective story one has to look to the original sources.   Using this as a base, I would like to suggest that the spiritual center necessary for an effective Christmas story must include the following: 

(1) it must be a narrative of wonder; 

(2) it must involve something precious, 

(3) That precious something must face real jeopardy, and finally...

(4) The solution to that challenge, the salvation depicted in the story’s conclusion, must be potentially inclusive.

Part II  Must be a Story of Wonder

To begin, the successful story of Christmas must be one of wonder.  This abounds in the primary narrative: The original shepherds found themselves in such a place.  “The glory of the Lord shone round about them: (Luke 2: 9).  As Dickens famously said In the opening of his “Carol” “There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.“ Christmas is, at its center, not an everyday event. “It is the most wonderful time of the year.” It comes, shaking up the norm. And that is part of its spiritual center. Both Hebrew and Christian understanding of the Almighty’s workings includes wonder: “Who is like unto thee, O Lord, among the gods? Who is like thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders?” (Exodus 15:11 KJV). “Remember his marvelous works that he hath done, his wonders, and the judgments of his mouth” (1 Chronicles 16:12 KJV). So Christmas stories, at their best, always include wonder.

In some ways, this is the easiest of elements to incorporate. Just set the story in a land of wonders such as Toyland in March of the Wooden Soldiers, Christmas Town in Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer or Whoville in How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The fantastic element of the place itself will instill wonder. Furthermore many might note that because of the fantastic setting, an overt reference to Christ is not always needed. And many Christmas stories avoid the overt religious quality by doing so. However, overtly avoiding the Christmas story is perilous since selfless Christian charity is the springboard of the Yule soul. Think of Fred Halloway's observation from The Christmas Carol: his wonder is based on the unique quality of charity which manifests itself at Christmas time.

“I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.”

 The inclusive quality will  be covered later but for now look at how unusual and unique the time is.  Again, note the element of breaking into what is normal.  What Shakespeare describes as“So hallow'd and so gracious is the time”   (Hamlet Act. 1Scene 1j  with Christmas we are in a land and time of wonder. “And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds” (Luke 2: 18)

Still, it interesting to note that C.S. Lewis and Tolkien disagreed about lands of wonder and Christmas. Tolkien, who created a whole series of Father Christmas letters and stories for his children, told Lewis it was impossible to have Christmas in Narnia since there was no Christ. Still admiring that Tolkien could allow his hobbits nothing. According to the web site Tolkien Gateway, in Middle Earth’s Shire there is Yule 

“Yule was the Northern Mannish name of the midwinter festival, observed around the Westlands. The days around Yule were the Yule-tide. n the Shire Calendar, Yule referred to two days (the last of the previous and the first of the new year)...Around them, the six-day festival of Yuletide was held, running from 29 Foreyule through 2 Afteryule.” (”Yule, Tolkien Gateway https://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Yule)

As for Lewis, he apparently just shrugged and had Father Christmas appear anyway. (Ironically, Tolkien felt that Lewis’ fairy-tale was to obviously Christian, preferring his more subtle approach found in Middle Earth.) Still I think Lewis' instincts also have proved to have merit. What a powerful opening Lewis gives which is centered on Christmas: “It is winter in Narnia,” said Mr. Tumnus, “and has been forever so long. . . always winter, but never Christmas.” (The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe ). The bleakness of Narnia is tangible to both young and old readers even if it is a world of wonder and when Christmas comes it signals the end of the White Witch’s power.

One might wonder where is the wonder is such a hard-boiled Christmas narrative as A Christmas Story,” in which the narrator is desperately trying to maneuver his mom and dad into buying him a Red Ryder BB Gun© (with this thing in the stock that tells time). However, the wonder is everywhere in this story. As Ralphi recalls "First nighters, packed earmuff to earmuff, jostled in wonderment before a golden tinkling display of mechanized, electronic joy!" Randy is still so young that he dances about at the Christmas Parade at seeing Mickey and the characters from The Wizard of Oz. But even Ralphie is enough of a believer in wonder that he includes Santa in his machinations.

Another hard-boiled, realistic Christmas story which at first lacks wonder is “The Gift of the Magi.” O Henry describes a young, very poor couple struggling to make ends meet in an urban New York, trying to make one another’s Christmas happy.  But he overtly ties his narrative to the wonder of the first Christmases when the wisemen arrive with gifts as well as the wonderful power of love.

 Wonder is vital for a Christmas story. And the acceptance of wonder is required: “Man of the Worldly mind” says Marley’s ghost, “Do you believe in me or not?! "Seeing is believing," says the conductor in “The Polar Express.” "but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can't see." Christmas stories demand the embracing of wonder. Meanwhile, the depth of Wonder in a Christmas story is directly related to its next quality, the jeopardy in which something precious is placed.

For an interesting take on alternative Christmas like festivals in fantastic fiction (worlds of wonder), you might want to check out Overly Sarcastic Productions’ video “Top 12 Fictional Pseudo-Christmases “ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsv4wxPiIdw

Part III Something Precious Faces Jeopardy

The second and third qualities found in the best of Christmas Stories are intimately joined together: Such stories must involve something precious, and that precious quality must face jeopardy. And here is where many Yule narratives go off the rails. 

Too often Christmas Day itself is held up as the precious thing supposedly in peril. Relatives might not make it, the dinner could be ruined or maybe Santa can’t make his flight and all the goodies will not be delivered. But as Dr. Seuss reminds us, Christmas is not so fragile. “’Maybe Christmas,‘ he (the Grinch) thought...doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps...means a little bit more’”. In Ton Howard’s “Grinch,” the father of Cindy Lue confronts the distraught mayor ““you can’t ruin Christmas Mr. Mayor because it’s not about the presents.”  Stories that make the Christmas celebration the center point falter. The fountainhead of Christmas’ wonder is in it’s ability to transcend. Not even Death can crush it.  The central message of. Christmas is that there comes a power “born that men no more must die.”  In the shadow of his child’s death Bob Chratchet can say ““I’m very happy!”

Also, romantic love, while precious, is not neatly so important as to support a Christmas story. Now here, I might expect some pushback. There is hardly anything so enshrined in our culture than the ultimate value of romantic love. After all, in Dickens' "Carol" Scrooge's nature is revealed by his dismissal of Fred's choice to marry because of love.

“Why did you get married?” said Scrooge. “Because I fell in love.”  “Because you fell in love!” growled Scrooge, as if that were the one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. “Good afternoon!”

Personally, I can recall thinking that the joyful ending of "The Carol" is marred because Scrooge does not find romantic love at the end. But that is a misunderstanding. Romantic love while wonderful is precious only in its hope of becoming marital and familial love--the building blocks of our culture. Anyone who has seen more than twenty-five birthdays knows that romantic love by itself is as fleeting as a morning mist.

Romantic love is precious only in that it leads to marital and familial love. Such love may play a role in a strong Christmas story but if such fleeting affection is the centerpiece of a Yule narrative, the Christmas story flounders--a lot of sound and fury with little consequences. The bounds of marriage and children are deeply precious and the forces which put marriage and a family in jeopardy are worthy elements within a strong Christmas story. Thus, as George Bailey, in "It's a Wonderful Life," moves towards despair, it affects his marriage and family--his daughter Zuzu especially. The true tragedy that the Ghost of Christmas Past presents to Scrooge is the marriage and family he might have had.

And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life, his sight grew very dim indeed. 

This last image is so wretched it causes Scrooge to physically attack the spirit to repress it.   And when, transformed, he sets forth, Scrooge finds his great joy met first at church and then among his family.

The best Christmas stories are those that center on humanity's loss and reclamation. Christmas at its center is the story of helpless humankind being hopelessly lost. The race teeters on despair and destruction. Although the wonder of Christmas can be assisted in fantastic settings, the central quality of Yule wonder is that in the midst of helplessness, help arrived. “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined” (Isaiah 9:2).

This is emphasized in multiple Christmas stories. Death and sterility being "The Carol." Marley is dead, to begin with, and so is Scrooge. The narration makes it clear that they are tied together: “Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: It was all the same to him.” Scrooge at the beginning of the story is as dead as a coffin nail.

“Oh! but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!.”

The fact is that the old miser needs help, even if Scrooge himself doesn't know it:

Scrooge. . .made bold to inquire what business brought him there.  “Your welfare!” said the Ghost. Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately: “Your reclamation, then. Take heed!”

           Again, in so many of the best Christmas stories, the state of the individual is in deep peril. In Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life,” George Bailey is near self-destruction. The top angel, Franklin, says this “man will be thinking seriously of throwing away God's greatest gift”. Clarence knows exactly what he means. “Oh, dear, dear! His life!.”            More than that, in the eyes of the very Catholic Frank Capra the contemplation of suicide places George Bailey's eternal soul in jeopardy. And the film "Joyeux Noël" depicts the events surrounding the Christmas Truce of 1914 in the midst of tragic jeopardy. Such potential terrible loss is the kind of foundation upon which the best Christmas stories are built.

Part IV Inclusiveness  Good News to All

The fourth and final quality of the best Yule narratives is that like the original good news, a Christmas Story should be inclusive. “Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people'” (Luke 2:10 KJV). Christmas is for all people, no matter one's race, gender, or age. The best Christmas stories portray the inclusion of those who, for one reason or another, were outcasts.

This is important to the narrative because it is organic to the Christmas message. Contrary to the claims of many contemporary experts, Christianity has always been inclusive. As St. Paul writes “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28 KJV). That, from a man brought up in the Pharisaical tradition, is an amazing claim. St. John writes in the last book, “Whosoever will, may come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely (Rev. 22:17b KJV). As a child, I can recall gustily belting out the chorus to P. P. Bliss’ ”Whosoever Will May Come:”

   “Whosoever will, whosoever will!    Send the proclamation over vale and hill;    'Tis a loving Father calls the wanderer home.    "Whosoever will may come."

Just a side note: the American hymn writer, P. P. Bliss, from Ohio lived from 1838 to 1870 and was therefore a contemporary of Charles Dickens who lived from 1812 to 1870) 

The inclusion of the outcast, the inclusion of the enemy, is an especially vital part of Christmas stories. “God Bless Us, Everyone!” is first Tiny Tim’s  and then the narrator’s wish in the Carol.  Christmas should never involve the gleeful dancing by the hero over the fallen figure of his or her opponent. In "Joyeux Noël" that becomes literally true as soldiers from Germany, England and France face one another at Christmas during World War I.  In Adrea Bocelli's Christmas song "God Bless Us Everyone" (featured in Disney's version of “The Christmas Carol”), he provides this proms:

To the voices no one hears,

We have come to find you.

With your laughter and your tears,

Goodness, hope, and virtue.

The central nature of inclusiveness is emphasized in Rankin and Bass’ “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” when the red nosed Rudolf and Hermey, the Elf who wants to be a dentist, find places within their community (as does the terrible Abdominal--whose job becomes the one who places stars on the tops of trees ). And who can forget the joyful ending when Santa arrives to gather up and find homes to all of the inhabitants of The Island of Misfit Toys. The ending which featured this rescue was a late added scene for the second year’s broadcast because there was so much uncertainty over the fate of the toys from the show’s premier.  That is how important inclusiveness is to Christmas. Those who think “Happy Holidays” is a more inclusive term miss the point entirely.

But there is a caveat. While all are welcome in the spirit of Christmas, not everyone will come because not everyone will lay down what is killing them spiritually. Henry F. Potter from "It's a Wonderful Life" is not there in the final scene singing with the rest of his community, and it's NOT because George Bailey, his family, or his friends would have excluded him. It's because Henry F. Potter excluded himself.

The isolating sin of idolatry is alive in our age. Whatever is placed above the light of Christmas is, in fact, a deadly hindrance--what Dickens wisely portrayed as chains on Marley. Bell, Scrooge's former fiancé, identifies his economic passion as idolatry:

"Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve.'' "What Idol has displaced you?'' he [Scrooge] rejoined. "A golden one.''

Dickens' audience would have immediately recognized the Biblical echo of the golden calf from the Exodus story. If he had not accepted the truth given by the Spirit of Christmas Past (a metaphor for memory) Scrooge would not have found himself at his nephew's Christmas dinner. Meanwhile, if the Grinch had not seen that there is more to Christmas than packages and bags, then he would have found himself out in the snow not enjoying his roast-beast.

Thus, whatever we hold so dear in ourselves that we will not let it go and would sacrifice all else for it, be it political affiliation, gender identification, sexual gratification, competitive economics, or national patriotism when we hold it higher than the light which Christ claimed to bring, we bare ourselves from Christmas.

Thankfully the truth of Christmas in the best of stories is revealed to be far more penetrating, far more enduring, and far more powerful than the world thinks it is. "And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not" (John 1:5 KJV). The best of Christmas stories helps us comprehend it just a little bit more than we might have.

So with all that being said, I sit here with my fingers hovering over the keyboard trying to compose in my head a Christmas yarn worthy of the title.  Glad there is no deadline on me as poor Charles was facing in 1843. Merry Christmas Everyone! Dec. 2022

[caitybug]

It may be February but... why not haha. 

Below the cut, organized in chronological order, are the fics I wrote in 2020! All put into one place :D. Thank you to everyone who read, kudos’d, commented, beta’d, and supported my writing. It was my first ever year writing fanfiction, and I am so thankful for all the friends I’ve made because of it.

<3 <3

If Not For You

Word count: 92,461 Chapters: 36 Rating: M

Summary:

Simon was born and raised in the midwest, and he thinks he has his life figured out. He has a girlfriend that he feels happy with, is excited to drive for his junior year, and can't wait to get away from his father when he goes away for school.

However, this all changes when his mom dies and he is carted to the east coast to start at a boarding school. Simon then has to deal with having a roommate (who hates him), living with his mother's death, and wanting to be anywhere but where he is.

To add to it all, one day he gets a strange phone call, and he wonders if his mother's death was really an accident at all.

author’s note:

This was my first like actual fic. And my first try at writing something. This fic will always have a special place in my heart because it helped lead me to all the amazing people I now call friends <3

Not only that but it was a bit of therapy for me. (Self insert? In MY fanfiction? More likely than you’d think!)

Anyway, whenever someone comments, leaves kudos, or otherwise acknowledge that the fic exists I get emotional haha. I also have like three playlists for it too haha.

The Heist

Word Count:7456 Rating:T

Summary:

It's the fourth year of the Halloween heist, and Baz is determined to win. He thinks he has it all planned, that he knows Simon Snow through and through.

Despite this, somehow Simon still manages to surprise him.

author’s note:

b99 AU bahaha. Need I say more??

Pay Your Fines, Snow

Word Count: 1524 Rating: T

Summary:

Baz Pitch works at the local library every summer. He's annoyed at kids who run around, people who don't follow directions, and Simon Snow- who can't pay a fine on time.

author’s note

This fic was the first of the fics that sparked all my crazy prompts haha. It was so much fun to do! 

There is a wonderful podfic of this made by the amazing and beautiful @xivz​, and it also has art now by @peachpit-gabe!! Go check it out here. 

A Rebirth

Word Count: 3374 Rating: T

Summary:

Simon and Baz need to finish their presentation for their Art History class. However, Baz also got pulled into watching his younger siblings for the weekend.

Frozen 2, chicken nuggets, sword fights, and themes of Renaissance.

author’s note

I wrote this for the amazing @krisrix as a prompt! It was so much fun to do and I legit wrote the whole thing in like one afternoon and had it looked over and posted it haha. I still feel bad because Kris legit asked for babies and I kicked the babies out at the beginning of the fic LOL. 

Coming Together in Three Parts

Word Count: 4639 Rating: M Chapters: 3

Summary:

Three snippets of their lives after Wayward Son.

author’s note:

The summary definitely leaves a lot to be imagined haha. But I decided to pull a @ninemagicks and give a metaphor of threes and I love yous. So it’s three lovely stages after Wayward Son. There’s the I Love You, the moving in, and then a marriage proposal. I was fairly proud of this! And I did this as an exchange fic as well. 

The Three Acts of a Wizard

Word Count: 6439 Rating: T

Summary:

Today, Baz is giving Simon a reprieve (or, that's what he is telling Simon.)

Cue a removal of cursed body parts, a grumpy fireplace who *knows* what is happening, and a shrill frizzy-haired friend threatening to poison some scones.

(this is a remix fic for @ninemagicks​ HMC AU YWSAFS

author’s note:

I wrote this for Nena’s birthday in the summer! Their friendship has meant the world to me, and this story is what I think gave me the gall courage to message them and harass them with 2k word comments/metas haha. If you’ve not read their fic, make sure to do so!

Heaven is a Place on Earth

Word Count: 12,711 Rating: M Chapters: 5 Summary:

Five hours each week. That's all Simon and Baz get.

But we know that's all they need to fall in love...

~~

A San Junipero AU

author’s note:

This fic idea came to me randomly and I literally wrote it in a week. I love it so much, and despite being MCD I think it’s still generally happy (I mean.. they do end up together??) Idk, it has a special place in my heart. And I made @krisrix read Baz with an american accent so... win win haha. 

(Un)Sexy Saturday

Word Count: 6157 Rating: M/E Chapters: 9 (they’re different stories each chapter.)

Summary:

Summaries vary by chapter. Overall it’s just a collection of silly stories where sex gets interrupted. 

author’s note:

Honestly this series was so fun to do. I need to continue it sometime! From beauty blender butt plugs, to swingers, to garlic allergies... it just makes me laugh haha. 

5 Times Simon Wanted a Fistbump, and the 1 Time He Finally Got It

Word Count: 5489 Rating: T Chapters: 6

Summary:

Simon Snow hasn't had a lot of friends in his life. He has Penny, who is great, of course. He has Baz (but does he count as a friend?)

So now, seeing Shepard, he's got a chance at a friend. A bro of sorts.

Simon sees the final hurdle in their friendship to be a fist bump. A simple signal of their friendship.

But how long is it going to take to get it??

~~

5 + 1 Yearning for a Fist Bump.

author’s note:

Simpard. Friendship. And art by @nick-eyre?? Perfection. 

A Goblin’s Skull, Maccies, and a Door Handle

Word Count: 2017 Rating: T

Summary:

Simon Snow wakes up in a building he doesn't know, tied up and blindfolded.

Luckily his best bro Shepard is there too.

author’s note:

Wrote this as a little bday treat for @nick-eyre :D. Decided to give Simon a friend who would also lust after goblins with him haha. 

One Word, Four Letters, A Lifetime's Worth of Pain: IKEA

Word Count: 2428 Rating: T

Summary:

Baz comes home and notices the house is suspiciously quiet.

When he finds Simon, surrounded by unfinished pieces of furniture, he can't help but ask... why?

Author’s note:

This was written as a birthday gift for @foolofabookwyrm! She is an absolute gem and has never been to IKEA, but now I hope she understands the struggle of building IKEA furniture haha. 

The Beat of My Heart

Word Count: 2230 Rating: T

Summary:

Simon is kneeling on the ground, waiting for Baz to come home.

He has a question. One he's wanted to ask for a while.

author’s note:

This was written as a birthday gift for @krisrix! A little proposal fic for the rat king <3 <3

Out of My Mind

Word Count: 10876 Rating: M Chapters: 3

Summary:

Baz and Simon are living their lives, domestic and content. They have a nine-year-old daughter, a Sunday morning routine, and plans to be alone for the first time for a while.

But when a girl who is growing into her powers reads something she shouldn't, they get into a predicament they don't expect.

author’s note:

This was a COE gift for @krisrix! Body Swap! Parents! Married! I tried to do it all for him haha. 2020 was really the year where I was like yeah, let’s write Kris a million fics. And honestly—wouldn’t have it any other way.

Imposter vs Crewmates

Word Count: 754 Rating: T

Summary:

Everyone has their quarantine coping strategies.

Simon tried to bake bread.

Baz watched Twilight.

But Penelope...

She introduced the gang to Among Us.

author’s note:

Look. I’ve no excuses for this lolol. Just thought it’d be silly :D. 

The Ethics of Wanting You

Word Count: 1417 Rating: T

Summary:

Simon Snow realized recently that he has a crush on Baz.

Penny suggested he find reasons to spend more time with him, so he suggests a study session for their ethics exam the following day.

(It doesn't go as planned, but the result is very much worth it.)

author’s note:

Birthday gift for @peachpit-gabe <3 <3. Just a cute one shot with snowbaz.

Pumpkin, Let’s Make a Patch

Word Count: 2516 Rating: T

Summary:

Simon Snow is trying to create a neighborhood pumpkin patch.

Baz, unknowingly, rips the pumpkins out of his front lawn.

(How will he make it up to him?)

author’s note:

This was done for the COC. I based it off this cute tiktok series with this kid who rode around on his skateboard and plants pumpkins around his neighborhood.

Weathering the Storm

Word Count: 2248 Rating: T

Summary:

Shepard was nine when he first met a boy he'd learn was Simon Snow.

He was in a ditch crying, and Shepard wasn't sure what to make of him.

This boy lived in his mind until he saw him again years later.

And today, when there's a storm unlike any other in London, he knows who must be at the center of it.

author’s note:

Honestly. This is probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. IDK. It’s so short but... I love it. And if you like to listen to fics— @bloodiedpixie did a phenomenal podfic of it! And @nick-eyre did AMAZING art for it too <3. 

New Beginnings

Word Count: 2090 Rating: T

Summary:

It's the first New Years Eve after the Christmas that changed everything.

After Simon Snow and Baz kissed.

After they defeated the humdrum.

After the Mage's death.

But, as many of us do, it's time to take the New Year as an opportunity to begin anew.

author’s note:

Part of a server exchange I did for @knitbelove :D. 

And, all of the prompts I’ve yet to put on ao3... lolol

[t00thpasteface]

i know the concept of "what if catfish but literal" is NOT original, but catcatfish were something i first designed in the middle of a lecture on the evolutionary history of vertebrate life, then continued drawing into my ichthyology lecture right afterwards. they're a DEEPLY personal project to me and have so much more depth to them beyond mere aesthetics:

catcatfish are meant to hold up a mirror to the popular concept of pets. i'm not just referring to common pets like housecats and small freshwater fish, but also to exotic wild animals that are captured and traded even when it harms the animal and the environment they are inevitably released into as an invasive species. i designed catcatfish from the ground up to be the most difficult, hard-to-accommodate parts of both a cat and a catfish: they have poor eyesight, voracious appetites, massive bodies, venomous nonretractable spines, and a need for both terrestrial and aquatic enrichment. they even have an uncharismatic method of eating, i.e. swallowing small animals (including other pets) whole without chewing. my catcatfish are not domesticated; they are wild animals that people try to house and pay serious prices for.

as an extension of this, that's why all the catcatfish variants i've designed, and will continue to design, are based on wild catfish species. i am deeply, deeply opposed to "cosmetic" pet breeds that hinder the animal's quality of life. i'm a lifelong cat owner, and all of my cats have been rescued ferals with unclear genetic histories. for this reason, you will NEVER see me drawing catcatfish based on persian, hairless/sphinx, munchkin, or scottish fold cats, along with many other breeds or inbred mutations, nor will i draw a catcatfish with long fur that would harm its ability to thermoregulate as an aquatic animal.

catcatfish are also commentary on how those outside of biological sciences talk about animals, especially wild animals that interact with humans, like possums and raccoons. i don't think an animal should be cute, safe, clean, or "cool" to be worthy of our appreciation and conservation. i wanted to make an animal that will NEVER be cooperative. catcatfish will always prioritize eating as much and as quickly as they can over anything else, and they will gladly envenomate any human trying to keep them from their next meal without a moment's hesitation. i am deeply repulsed by popular activism for animals on the basis of promoting how "badass" or "beautiful" they are, because ultimately not every animal that needs protections is going to be badass or beautiful. catcatfish are incapable of being trained or tamed. they are carnivores that will absolutely devour a screaming crying human baby if you let them. so would a coyote. so would a goblin shark. this is a deliberate statement on the popcultural concept of animal conservation. i want people to be repulsed by these facets of the animal instead of sanding them down to make them cute and friendly.

again, i'm keenly aware that the aesthetics are not original. a million other people have made cat-fish before, as well as shark puppies and other walking fish. even the biology of catcatfish is largely based on real cat and catfish biology at every level of their anatomy, from integument to metabolism. what makes a catcatfish a catcatfish is the reason i draw them, not the way i draw them. i'd rather you just make your own thing if you don't want to meet me where i'm at.

hi just letting you know that i identify so strongly with the catcatfish that i now have a fursona (scalesona?) of catcatfish. ok thats it have an epic day

ok but by being an anthro it's no longer the same animal at all! i would ask that you please call it something else. my catcatfish are a speculative biology experiment with a big emphasis on actual anatomy and physiology (i'm working on a huge guide to this with cross-section diagrams and everything) so to make them an anthro goes against the spirit of the creation :(

[rattusrattus3]

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Sources of inspiration/influences: W.I.T.C.H. comic, Emily the strange, Neil Gaiman, Tony Diterlizzi, Jim Henson, Emilie Autumn, troll dolls, vintage toys and fashion, italian folk music, ramshackle glory/folk punk, folklore and fairytales, drag and gender fuck fashion, cats, mythical creatures, Rookie Mag, fairy kei, goth, punk, lolita fashion, pastel goth, creepy/cute aesthetics, post apocalyptic stuff, 

Mental Health Resources:

Mental Illness Happy Hour Podcast, i especially recommend using their search box for finding specific topics, and using the forum to chat about mental health stuff, the surveys are fantastic as well 

DEPRESSION

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-SUICIDE (2433) – Can use in US, U.K., Canada and Singapore

Suicide Crisis Line: 1-800-999-9999

National Suicide Prevention Helpline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

National Adolescent Suicide Helpline: 1-800-621-4000

Postpartum Depression: 1-800-PPD-MOMS

NDMDA Depression Hotline – Support Group: 1-800-826-3632

Veterans: 1-877-VET2VET

Crisis Help Line – For Any Kind of Crisis: 1-800-233-4357

Suicide & Depression Crisis Line – Covenant House: 1-800-999-9999

Trans Lifeline: https://www.translifeline.org/

National Alliance on Mental Illness  www.nami.org

DOMESTIC ABUSE

National Child Abuse Helpline: 1-800-422-4453

National Domestic Violence Crisis Line: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

National Domestic Violence Hotline (TDD): 1-800-787-32324

Center for the Prevention of School Violence: 1-800-299-6504

Child Abuse Helpline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453)

Domestic Violence Helpline: 1-800-548-2722

Healing Woman Foundation (Abuse): 1-800-477-4111

Child Abuse Hotline Support & Information: 1-800-792-5200

Women’s Aid National Domestic Violence Helpline: (UK Only) 0345 023 468

Sexual Abuse Centre: (UK Only) 0117 935 1707

Sexual Assault Support (24/7, English & Spanish): 1-800-223-5001

Domestic & Teen Dating Violence (English & Spanish): 1-800-992-2600

Rape and Incest National Network Online Help Center: https://ohl.rainn.org/online/

ALCOHOL & DRUG ABUSE

National Association for Children of Alcoholics: 1-888-55-4COAS (1-888-554-2627)

National Drug Abuse: 1-800-662-HELP (4357)

Al-Anon/Alateen Hope & Help for young people who are the relatives & friends of a problem drinker): 1-800-344-2666

Alcohol/Drug Abuse Hotline: 1-800-662-HELP (4357)

Be Sober Hotline: 1-800-BE-SOBER (1-800-237-6237)

Cocaine Help Line: 1-800-COCAINE (1-800-262-2463)

24 Hour Cocaine Support Line: 1-800-992-9239

Ecstasy Addiction: 1-800-468-6933

Marijuana Anonymous: 1-800-766-6779

YOUTH & TEEN HOTLINES

National Youth Crisis Support: 1-800-448-4663

Youth America Hotline: 1-877-YOUTHLINE (1-877-968-8454)

Covenant House Nine-Line (Teens): 1-800-999-9999

Boys Town National: 1-800-448-3000

Teen Helpline: 1-800-400-0900

TeenLine: 1-800-522-8336

Youth Crisis Support: 1-800-448-4663 or 1-800-422-0009

Runaway Support (All Calls are Confidential): 800-231-6946

Child Helpline: (UK Only) 0800 1111

Kids Helpline: (Australia) 1800 55 1800

PREGNANCY HOTLINES

AAA Crisis Pregnancy Center: 1-800-560-0717

Pregnancy Support: 1-800-4-OPTIONS (1-800-467-8466)

Pregnancy National Helpline: 1-800-356-5761

Young Pregnant Support: 1-800 550-4900

Abortion Services Websites

https://exhaleprovoice.org

http://yourbackline.org

LGBTQIA+ HOTLINES

The Trevor Helpline (For LGBTQIA+ questions or problems): 1-800-850-8078

Gay & Lesbian National Support: 1-888-THE-GLNH (1-888-843-4564)

Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender (GLBT) Youth Support Line: 1-800-850-8078

Lesbian & Gay Switchboard: (UK Only) 0121 622 6589

Lothian Gay & Lesbian Switchboard – Scotland: (Scotland Only) 0131 556 4049

OTHER HOTLINES/WEBSITES

Self-Injury Support: 1-800-DONT CUT (1-800-366-8288) (WWW.SELFINJURY.COM)

Eating Disorders Awareness and Prevention: 1-800-931-2237 (Hours: 8am-noon daily, PST)

Eating Disorders Center: 1-888-236-1188

Help Finding a Therapist: 1-800-THERAPIST (1-800-843-7274)

Panic Disorder Information and Support: 1-800-64-PANIC (1-800-647-2642)

TalkZone (Peer Counselors): 1-800-475-TALK (1-800-475-2855)

Parental Stress Hotline: 1-800-632-8188

National AIDS Helpline: (UK Only) 0800 567 123

Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous www.slaafws.org

BetterHelp online counseling www.BetterHelp.com/mental

Crisis Text Line  text  741741

Sexuality and Gender Resources

Scarleteen

DNI: kink/NSFW/porn blogs, transmed/truscum, terf/swerf, racists, antisemites, nazis, thinspo/pro-ana/pro mia blogs, MAP/NoMAP/Pedophiles 

[chthonic-cassandra]

Recent books, SFF -

(Wow, I haven’t done this in a very long time.)

- Vonda McIntyre, Dreamsnake - 1979 sci-fi picaresque that reads like fantasy, about a healer and her magic snakes. I loved it, and not only because of the tremendously good snake content (though that certainly helped) - there’s this compassionate yet clear-sighted gaze throughout, and I loved the steady, uncluttered pacing. So glad to have read this.

- Laurie J. Marks, Elemental Logic series (reread of Fire Logic-Water Logic; first time read of Air Logic) - I have loved these books for a long time, but I found that they really went up a level for me on this reread; reading them in sequence made the overall shape of what Marks is creating come into focus and acquire a new coherence. 

The major plot points which I know have bothered other readers (notably that extremely fire blood-ish things the characters do in the middle of Earth Logic - you know what I’m talking about if you’ve read it) have never bothered me, but this time I found them even more moving. There’s something so profoundly humanistic about Marks’ worldview, so expansively compassionate. There were something elements of Air Logic that didn’t quite come together for me, especially in the denouement, but I have some faith that a second reading will land differently. I do think that Marks is particularly hard on the Air characters in ways that I think are slightly unfair (any of the magics, without balance and taken to its full conclusion, can be really dangerous), but it’s a subtle argument.

I wish more people I know read these books. I also wish that the elemental logic personality classification replaced the Hogwarts houses in all conversations; it’s exponentially more interesting (I’m about 60/40 Fire and Air, if anyone’s wondering).

- Sarah Monette, Doctrine of Labyrinths series (reread of Melusine; first time read of The Virtu and Mirador; haven’t gotten a whole of Corambis yet) - these are much messier books than Marks’ or McIntyre’s, but I’ve been enjoying them a lot. It’s interesting to see the lovable tropey-ness of Goblin Emperor in a less developed, more overtly sexualized form here; the particular tropes in question appeal to me, so it works, but I can’t imagine enjoying these books if they didn’t. I like how traumatized everyone is, and I really, really like Felix (also Mildmay, of course, but I feel more protective of Felix). Mirador is the weakest, I think, because it doesn’t make enough, or the right kind of use of Felix. Curious what the conclusion will be like.

- Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth - after having this recommended to me by what feels like everyone, I found myself a little disappointed by it. The whole reads like a blend of Gormenghast + Gene Wolfe’s The Book of the New Sun + YA competition tropes, and all of those are things that many people love, but...I really actually don’t. There are many elements of Gideon the Ninth that I enjoyed, but there was too much going on, and the jokey tone, while brilliant in some ways, meant that the world-building never totally gelled for me (yeah, it’s cool that everyone’s a necromancer, but why? how does that serve this society?). It’s a first novel, and I’m curious about the sequels, and how Muir might find more of a balance.

- Kage Barker, The Anvil of the World - I almost definitely heard about this from @elucubrare, and I’m glad I did - it was not my usual thing, but a lot of fun. It’s an almost domestic, lightly humorous fantasy about a former assassin trying to make a new life for himself, and features some clever world-building and plot set up.

- Emily Duncan, Wicked Saints & Ruthless Gods - Like Gideon the Ninth, these are over-the-top gothy, with a ton of YA tropes being engaged with and sometimes subverted, but they are sort of tailor-made for me, and so I loved them. There are places where I could poke at the prose and plot development, but I am basically just very, very much there for this. Lots of talking to gods and blood magic and so many knives. It’s basically my life. Anyway. (ETA: credit where credit is due; definitely heard about these from @siderealscion)

- James Tiptree, Jr., Her Smoke Rose Up Forever - this was my first Tiptree exposure, and is a very strong posthumous collection including what I am given to understand are most of her major works. I got a lot out of these stories - there’s a bleak intensity to them, and a very particular and curious relationship with embodiment. It’s much closer to traditional sci-fi than I normally read, but there’s a sharp intelligence to each of the stories that fascinates me. I’ll be thinking of them for a long time.

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Chapter 5

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural. Soul mates.Some domestic fluff, getting to know you stage. Talk of the unknown. 

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

When she woke to a warm spring morning, Mae was thankful she didn’t have puffy eyes or a headache from crying the night before. She’d sobbed hard, sadness surging from an uncontrolled well of emotion that had always been within her. She was a sensitive soul she’d been told before, both in the form of compliments and insults. Being sad that people weren’t nice to her when she always went into interactions with a good heart wasn’t something new to bring her down. But she’d had something to make the roller coaster of let down shoot back up suddenly and she was caught off guard. A nice man to be kind and take care of her after the rest of the world seemed to be against her all day. It was too much for her still fragile heart to handle and despite being less sad, but mostly confused and uncertain, she cried again. She hated crying in front of others, she quickly became overwhelmed with thoughts of being less than and looking down on her for not controlling herself.

But she hadn’t felt that last night. No, she felt seen and heard. She had someone to look her in the eyes and tell her her feelings were valid, that crying was healthy and being able to feel so deeply was a gift and not a burden. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t woken up feeling an emotional hangover like she had every other time she’d cried. Things were already proving Alfie right with how they would work better together than apart. Luckily, she had just woken up and therefore didn’t have the capacity to think about that at the moment. Right now all she was really focused on was having to pee.

Alfie sees her scuttle the short distance between her room and the bathroom in her slippers and pajamas. Little shorts and a tank, all her softness wobbling with a sleepy shuffle of her small feet. He grinned, a small huff of amusement for the little fluffy goblin scuttling around her own house.  He hears the click of the bathroom door as it opens and calls out to her, “Breakfasts almost ready. Ya in?” his neck stretches in her direction, head tilted to hear her muffled reply in the affirmative.

She entered the kitchen, hand disappearing into her bed head curls to mindlessly scratch as she yawned. “Smells good.” she approves, a sniff and a heavy-footed saunter over to the round kitchen table.

“Fanks.” he mutters, multitasking with pans and spatula. “‘Mornin’ luv. Ya slept well I take it? Didn’t a hear a peep all night.” He could’ve said my dreams were as smooth and clear as a moonless night’s reflection atop a lake. A sure sign that she wasn’t bothered in her sleep.

“Yeah.” she nods, her hair bouncing as she did so. She fusses with her hair, pushing it back as he approaches the table. “Oddly enough.”

“Odd will become commonplace soon enough.” a nod and a self-assured tone she hoped to emulate moves out of a barrel chest in his plain white t-shirt. She recalled the shirt from the first time she’d seen him in her dreams. What an odd fact, she muses to herself. Perhaps he was right. “That’s some immense hair ya got there.” he smiles down at her with an affectionate inkling in his eye and tone.

“Thanks?” she gives him a quirked brow as she tilts her head up at him, peeking out from under her mop of half-formed spirals.

“Was a compliment.” he clarifies as she nods and becomes quickly distracted by the food being slid in front of her. “Full English.” he declares, his shoulders hunched as he turns to retrieve his own overflowing plate. A perk of being immortal was he could eat almost anything and everything and not give a second thought to it. He now had an excuse to make the rich comfort foods he missed. He found himself not neglecting but finding comfort in the things of old that made him, him. He had run from the messier human emotions for a long while. He ran from the things that made him human in the first place as well. That entailed disappearing and not emerging until everyone he knew was long dead. It included religion, sex, and human comforts. He was his darkness for long years, but this little sunspot was bringing him back to his old self. The things that made him Alfie before things took a turn for the worse and he became what he was now. She made him feel human again. Among other things.

“Tomatoes?” she asks, her head tilted like the curious Percy’s that just jumped onto the table to sniff at the mushrooms dissapprovingly.

“Breakfast, innit?” he says, a fork in hand and a sausage already on the way into his mouth.

“And beans?” she keeps the same confused expression.

“It’s what we ate when money was good when I’s growin’ up. Comfort food, that.” he points with a greasy fork across the sun-streaked table from the light coming through the patio doors.

“Full English.” she mutters as if it were still a question to her. “S’good.” she shrugs and pushes things around on the plate.

“Got tea, English as all bloody hell.” he chuckles and points to the kettle. “Coffee, bangers, beans, bacon, beefeaters from the garden and mushrooms. Ya made me some of your soul food, ya comfort food. This is mine.”

“Food is… weird.” the sleep starting to fade fro her voice but clearly her mind wasn’t matching up to what her mouth wanted to say.

He snorts with a mouthful of food as she chews thoughtfully. “You gonna elaborate on that ingenious remark?”

She gives him a smile, knowing there was no ill will in his jab but agreeing that she certainly would have fleshed out what she meant more. “Everyone’s gotta have it, but it’s different everywhere ya go. It’s the backbone of any culture, somethin’ anyone could know about y’know? But somehow it’s also deeply personal despite it bein’ somethin’ that everyone has.” she pauses and takes another bite. “It’s weird.” she shrugs despite that being her final statement.

“Humans are weird would be a more overlapping remark. But it goes without sayin’. Humans can make anything personal. A rock, a meal, a string of words. Very self-absorbed, very self-important. But it’s in their nature. Means of survival ‘n that.”

“Their nature? You aren’t human?”

“I was. At one time. I’m more of a vessel if you will. I am me, yeah? I hold everything that made Alfie Solomons a man, a human. But I am also timeless energy that is simultaneously full to the brim and empty all at once. Knowledge from the very beginning of time, and past the present. I’ve lived in the underworld and on this side as well.”

“That’s… sorta heavy for breakfast, man.” she states blankly before they both move into a shared laugh.

“You asked. I am here to answer.”

“Thanks for answering,” she says sheepishly. “Do I also contain all that? Time and space and the whole Carl Sagan monologue?”

He gives her one of those smiles that makes her avert her eyes. The kind that handsome men have beautiful ladies when they courted them. She wasn’t equipped to deal with his charm and ruggedly handsome face this early in the morning. Or ever, for that matter. “Yeah, love ya do. Which is why we’ll be starting with some meditation today. Help you get in touch with all that. It’ll help every facet of ya complicated self. Gotta learn restraint and control before we move onto the more… intense activities.”

“Am not gonna have to like..sacrifice anyone am I?”

He lets out a sudden laugh. “Nah, love nothin’ of the sort. Not unless ya want to.”

“I don’t.” is a quick and curt answer given. Of course, she didn’t. A little ray of sunshine made of life itself wouldn’t want to get messy. That was more his side of things.

“Noted.” he gives a firm nod and a supportive closed mouth smile before they both become absorbed by the task of fueling up for their work.

-------

He had asked her where she would feel most comfortable, and to no surprise to him, telepathic of not, she had said in her garden. With a reassuring hand on her back, he leads her to the middle of a grassy patch in the center of the back yard. Her land was totally enclosed with a high fence and the outlines covered in different flowers and bushes and fruit-bearing trees, buzzing with insects already so soon into spring. A warm sun beamed down, making her brown skin shine, freckles happy to soak up the rays and darken across her cheeks, the yellow light hitting her eyes and lighting them up golden with her lush mixture of green spun delicately around her tight iris. Her curls shone, the sun-kissed streaks happy to lighten with their long missed sunbaths every day from being stuck inside during the cold months. They were bouncing happily, air dried as she perched with crossed legs on the soft grass.

“This is a lovely garden, by the way, pet. You’ve done a bang-up job on your own.” he grunts out as she adjusts his legs to mirror her.

“Thank you. I’m very proud of it.” a soft but accepting smile graces her round and darling face as she squints in the sun.

“Ya should be.” he nods and clears his throat. “Have ya ever meditated before?”

“Not really no.” she shook her head. “I’ve lit incense and practiced some deep breathing before. But not like... Ommm and…” she pushes her middle fingers and thumbs together, resting them on her knees to explain.

He suppresses a smile at her wordless explanation of her length of knowledge on the subject. “I see.” he moves to take her hands. “Ya have a hard time quietenin’ down that mind of yours don’t ya?”

She nods, a hint of being ashamed in her eyes as she casts them downward.

“Now, now. No judgment here. This is Day 1, Step 1. Any progress is good progress. No progress is still practice, yeah? I’ll be gentle on ya don’t worry. Not here to upset ya.”

She presses her lips together and nods and takes a deep breath to steady herself.

“Now. First, we’re gonna close our eyes, yeah?” He leads her through being in the present. Taking in the moment. Acknowledging every sound and feeling, the blades of grass tickling her bare legs, the buzz of bee’s and the warmth of the sun, a kiss of wind that rustled her hair. She could sense it all, that was fine, but now she had to let it all go. “Work to clear your mind. No worries. No curiosities and philosophical musings. Just be. If a thought comes, say ‘ello, and let ‘im be on ‘is way.”

She smiles at his playful lit in explaining and she finds comfort now with his touch, hands clasped together between them.

“We’re going to have a moment, now. Try to work on that for a bit. I’m here if ya need me.”

“‘Kay.” is her soft reply as she tries to clear her mind. The garden fades away, but her thoughts still clumsily barge in. Worries about the future, the past, is she doing it right, was he sure he had the right girl? She tries to push it away and struggles.

“Ya need help, luv?” he offers with a gentle rub of his thumb against her hand.

“Yes, please.” she asks in an almost whisper of a voice.

“No shame in asking me for help, right? So make it sound like ya aren’t ashamed. I’ll ask ya again. Do you need help, luv?”

“Yes.” she states clearly, louder and a nod to back it up.

“That’s a girl. I’m gonna use my energy to calm ya down. Don’t be afraid of it. You'll feel it.”

She takes a shaky breath. “Okay. I’m not. Thank you.”

“Good girl.” he acknowledges her attempts at being self-assured and squeezes her hands. He didn’t have to, but he thought a physical cue might help her out at these early stages.

She does feel it, and it feels amazing. A shiver up her spine, his power like cool water in her veins as she exhaled in a sigh, feeling her shoulders lose their tension. Is what relaxed felt like? She didn’t know her.  “Oh, wow.” she exhales.

“Good?” he asks, concern in his voice.

“S’good.” she gives a dazed smile that he doesn’t see. A grunt in response is all she receives.

There’s an easy silence between them. She doesn’t know how long it goes on, but she felt like a popsicle left out in the sun, a puddle on the grass, a fat happy frog soaking up the sun for energy without a care. A thought floats by, and she decides to share it. “Am I...looking for something?” she asks.

“If ya like. It’s a bit advanced but we certainly can. You can ask a question, ask for guidance, clarity, divination. Whatever ya like.” he explains.

“I’d like to try.” her voice quiet but due to the relaxed state she was in and not from fear any longer.

“Go on, then.” he reassures her.

“Do I have to share it with the class?” the honesty in her voice makes him let out a laugh, a quiet one as not to startle her but her endearing and effortless charm was taking him by surprise.

“Nah, luv.” he chuckles out and gives her hand a delicate brush with his thumb again to show support.

What do I even ask? She wondered. I’d like to know… anything at this point. Okay, focus. I wanna know who he is. Who… we are if we’re these… soul mates. I just wanna know what it all means. Hmmph, not asking for much there are you. She sighs out of frustration and focuses up again.

He feels her drifting and pull back and smiles. She’s learning fast.

I want to know who this man is. Who is this Alfie Solomons? Do I trust him? Is he who he says he is? What is it that I feel when he’s near, this vibrating energy inside that feels like I’m on the verge of something, good or bad I don’t know. I just want to know...anything really….please? She would be the only one who could give puppy dog eyes to the universe and have it bend to her will.

After a short while, a not awkward silence, he feels something. A tingling in his fingers first, then moving up his arms. Were they falling asleep? It wouldn’t make much sense he wonders but he soon realizes it’s coming from her. It grows warmer as if he’d sunk into a hot bath. He ran cold, like a reptile, cold-blooded before her, and feeling warm blood in his veins was something he hadn’t felt in over a hundred years. A wiggle of his heart in his chest, a warm slinking feeling up his neck and into his mind. It was far stronger than anything he expected. But he would soon find out, she was a lot stronger already than he anticipated. Her coy nature and shyness a mere cover for the intensity that lies beneath. She had been protecting everyone else with her reservations, not protecting herself.

Her intention ran through him, she wanted to know him, and her power sought him out. The universe said, if you want him, have him, I only made him for you after all, and lets her creep into his mind. It all came in flashes, waves on a shore that faded in and out, too fast to grasp it all at once.

She smelled alcohol. Something sweet and deep, she could hear machines, men yelling, heavy footsteps up old wooden stairs. There were strongly scented leather books, piles of paperwork and a feeling of unease. Another wash of nostalgia washes over her, she sees a dog, happy and excited. She sees an empty bed sat in a dark room filled with books and papers, the walls covered in so many different things, both common and rare that she couldn’t make them all out. She smells the strong scent of cleaning chemicals, a woman by a sink, working hard and a feeling a longing overtaking her. There’s a hat over the doorway, a beacon for something important, a cane by a bed, bottles that looked like medicine on a nightstand. She saw blood in the sink, a sinking in the pit of her stomach.

“Mae.” she hears him echo in her head. He wasn’t speaking aloud. “Stop it. You don’t want to go there. -I- don’t want you to go there. You won’t find what you want here. Go back.”

Her eyes fluttered behind their lids, her hands grasping his, his underlying anger showing itself for her uninvited intrusion.

A hiss that wasn’t Alfie snaps up and shuts her out. It speaks a language she does not know, but it doesn’t frighten her, although she wonders for a moment if it should. His darkness. She knew it immediately. She’s endlessly fascinated. A black smoke, formless and endless whirling, moving through muck and earth as she pursued it with hungry curiosity. -Come see. Your answers.- a distinctly masculine but not human voice says, the smoke twists into a long cylindrical shape, it forms and shifts, an awe-inspiring black iridescence comes to shape. She sees a snake, endless, it could fit in her mind but was larger than the planet somehow. She knew he, his darkness, was the snake. A fitting symbol of rebirth and transformation, immortality and renewal, as death and destruction were all forms of creation in the end. It was as if she were being gifted with sight for the first time. She could see him, and know what his essence stood for.

Sunlight shone on it and the most beautiful colors came off its scales. She realized she was the source of the light. It twists up and directs her eyes to a moon. It’s blue, purple and green, all pastel and colored like the snake. They were one, they were the night and the darkness and everything that called it home. The dirt, the death it holds, both old and new, the beasts that only emerged to worship the moon and live in the dark were its children. Every cold-blooded animal, every reptile and insect knew it and didn’t fear it. So it came for her to understand, neither should she.

She sees her sun take form, moving towards the moon. She felt no fight between them. It was as if they wanted to be close, but had long been separated by the sides of the earth. Something that existed, but didn’t, that faded in and out unnoticed until it was already upon you. They radiated blindingly bright together, and the behemoth snake reveled in it. She felt a strange pull, a split from herself as a rabbit came into view. The snake circled itself, mouth to tail as it writhed, an ouroboros as the white rabbit neared. The rabbit was her, she realized. She was seeing her light, the mate for his darkness. A rabbit she pondered, watching he fearless bound about in the sunlight, warm thick fur and a wet twitching nose, full of life and energy. Her light was life, fertility, and growth, creation and desire. A vulnerability, a softness unparalleled was what she contained. She suddenly understood it. Understood what it meant to be her, to be him, and thus, understood why they had been destined to find each other.

The rabbit and snake entwine, the sun and moon fusing, something that should’ve seemed unholy or apocalyptic seemed to make perfect sense to her. It all came together, just like everything did, from the first creation to the last, she’d always been there, and so had he. She, life, sending him, death, her gifts that he loved so much he kept them forever. A blinding light went dark and she was no longer separate from herself as she gasped and went eyed, flung back into the present, in her human body, hands tight around Alfie’s forearms, nails digging in and sweat pouring from her.

He blinked at her, the most curious expression on his face as she caught her breath. “You understand now, don’t you?” It was more of a rhetorical question at this point. “You’re more powerful than even I knew, Mae.” he pauses again, waiting for her to process it all.

“Yeah… I am.” she says with the first absolutely certain tone she might’ve ever had in her life.

“You’ll only grow more so from here. You’ve surpassed my expectations already.” he pats her shoulder and they meet eyes, as if for the first time. He sees her with a question and not fear in her eyes. She had found the answers she was looking for. At least she had enough knowledge now to grasp the situation. “This is only the beginning, luv.”

I tried to reverse search the image and came up empty handed so if you know whose it is, I’l gladly credit them. 

@jaegeeeeer​  @brianaisasongbird​ @hardygal69​ @emerald-bijou​ @captstefanbrandt​ @coolgh0st​ @tinastarkandco​ @xstylishmileage​   @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @peakys-mystic​ 

[silverlysilence]

A Somewhat Mythology Lesson for the Fae’s Sake

I am now seeing a lot of questions regarding the Fae and have decided to do another of my HoaDS Reference Material Lessons because this was one of the things I researched a lot. Yet again, I will add links to Wikipedia as it has the most basic and easily understandable information, but this time I will also be linking to various Wikia fandoms as I relied heavily on them for inspiration.

First off, Fae (both plural and singular form) also known as fay, fey, fair folk or the traditional fairy are a type of mythical being that does not have a single origin as they are a collection of folk beliefs from a verity of sources.  Some see them as a form of spirit, sometimes spirits of the dead, while others believe them to be demoted angels or demons, minor deities, or even as elementals.  They are not always small-statured winged creatures, as at one-point goblins and gnomes fell into their category as well.  Thus, there is a lot of conflicting information on the fair folk.

More often than not, the fae are usually attracted to those who are beautiful as well as wealthy and seek them out for various reasons.  They are masters of enchantment and tend to only care about themselves even when dealing with humans but fae can be persuaded for a price.  Traditionally, iron (and by extension, steel) is inimical to them and is often referred to as cold iron when used as a weapon against the fae.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fairy

For Heart of a Dragon’s Soul, I relied heavily on both Merlin and Dresden Files as reference rather than relying on the folklore since that gave me a more narrowed down basis to work with rather than too much conflicting information.  However, as many of my readers have found out, I used the pixies from Disney Fairies for my Wyldfae as to not have to create my own characters.  I also stuck to using Fae(rie) for the fair folk in the series to distinguish them as different to Toothiana’s Fairies.

In most folklore, the two most prominent categories of fae are the Seelie Court and the Unseelie Court (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Classifications_of_fairies) which I stuck with for the most part but incorporated the Wyldfae as well.  However, it should be noted, that the fae, no matter their classification, are still dangerous if crossed.  Something I adhered to in my writing as well since it paralleled the dragons who are also Creatures of Magic willing to work with the Hairy Hooligan Tribe but are dangerous creatures in their own right.  

The Seelie Court is the more beneficently inclined fair folk whereas the Unseelie Court, are more malicious in nature.  These courts are also referred to as the Summer Court and the Winter Court and in HoaDS, there is a reason for the difference between Seelie Court and Summer Court as well as the Unseelie Court and Winter Court. But I’m not sure how far I will go into explaining that as it is a part of the storyline I haven’t yet to post and carries potential spoilers (there is a reason I am the Norn of Silence after all, and that is because I don’t give spoilers if I can help it). However, just know for the most part, the Summer Court is the Seelie Court and the Winter Court is the Unseelie Court.  

The Seelie Court more often than not would seek help from humans and warn those who accidentally offended them, returning human kindness with favors of their own.  As stated before, they are still dangerous and were quick to avenge any insults to their persons. They also were prone to mischief by playing light-hearted pranks without realizing how the pranks affected humans.

The Unseelie Court, on the other hand, needed no offense to deem it necessary to bring down assault and often attacked travelers out at night.  Just like how the Seelie Court were not always seen as benevolent, neither were the fae of the Unseelie Court always malevolent as they too became fond of particular humans if they were viewed as respectful.  Though, those humans often times made into something of a pet, which reflected their darker aspects compared to the Seelie Court.

The last classification I use is that of the Wyldfae (inspired by the Dresden Files: https://dresdenfiles.fandom.com/wiki/Wyldfae).  These are the fae that are bound to neither of the faerie courts as they are oftentimes seen as insignificant in the eyes of the higher-ranked fae.  Though, in the event of a war, most Wyldfae will associate themselves with the side that they are most inclined.  For the most part, they lived in harmony in the Wyldfae Haven, home of Pixie Hollow and the Winter Woods before it’s fall.  Now, they mostly live in the Nevernever or have carved out a small place for themselves unseen by humans.

Now that classifications are out of the way, let's dive into fae ranks.  Here is where I will go into the Summer and Winter Courts as laid out by the Dresden Files as it gave me the groundwork for the fae hierarchy.

Sídhe (pronounced ‘shee’) literally means “people of the (fairy) hills”.  This comes back to the idea that fae were spirits of the dead since the ‘fairy hills’ were often burial mounts.  Furthermore, Sídhe was the original term for fairies in general but has since changed over time to refer to the nobility of the fae.

In HoaDS, the Sídhe are the nobility of the fae, the upper echelon which is not hereditary—though that can be a determining factor—but based on status and their abilities.  In short, they are powerful as fuck.  They have fought their way to the top and are still there because lower-ranking fae respect their rule and power but also because no one has managed to kill them off yet.

Originally, the Sídhe were made up of the Sídhe Elders which I envision are the Sídhe Kings of Old from Merlin’s time (https://merlin.fandom.com/wiki/Sidhe_Elder) who have seen the Great Purge and witnessed the Balance disturbed.  They might have gone a little insane from their immortality, they could have decided a purge of their own was needed, or they might have seen an opportunity to fill the vacuum of power left from the Great Purge (I’m not saying which), which lead to the destruction of Pixie Hollow and the beginning of the Sídhe War.

During the time of the Sídhe Elders, it was taboo to kill another Sídhe Elder and the punishment was death unless it was another Sídhe Elder that committed the murder.  In which case, the Sídhe who committed such an offense was cursed to live the life of a mortal in body and soul.  However, if the cursed Sídhe sacrificed a human of great worth, either royalty or one with great magical potential, they’d gain back their life as a Sídhe.

After the Sídhe War, both Courts have their own territories in the land of Faerie within the Nevernever governed by the three queens.  The eldest of the Queen, otherwise known as The Queen Who Was, is either Mother Winter or Mother Summer, according to the court she belongs to.  They hold no official power over the court but are extremely powerful beings as the former queens who were not killed during their reign.  The ruling queen, The Queen Who is, is often referred to as the Winter Queen or Summer Queen and she controls the courts. Lastly, the youngest of each court is the Lady Summer or Lady Winter, The Queen Who is to Come, and is considered to be a Queen in training. The rest of the Sídhe are akin to the Lords and Ladies of the court and take offense at not being referred to faerie rather than Sídhe because they are above normal fae.  (https://dresdenfiles.fandom.com/wiki/Faerie_Courts)

The Dresden Files also has a Winter King and Summer King, both of whom are technically Wyldfae but are associated with their respective seasons and are independent of the Queens.  In SoaD, the Winter King and Summer King are more or less the protectors of the Wyldfae. It is an alliance of convenience as the two are not truly their Kings but they call them that out of respect.

Dewdrop Faeries are the weakest of the fae.  They typically only have the magical talent for one type of magic, be it a certain element or skillset, but not much else as their magical reserves are quite low. Their size is in direct correlation with their magical capabilities, the more magic they have, the larger they are but if they expend all of their magic, the dimmer their light shines. The majority of which are Wyldfae since neither of the courts see the need to recruit such lowly creatures into their services.

Brownies are what some would be considered domesticate fae as they come out at night while the owners of the house are asleep to perform various chores and farming tasks.  However, they are far from domesticated as they only complete the tasks in trade for a bowl of milk or cream or some other offering for the brownie left by the hearth. They are easily offended and will leave their homes forever if they feel like they’ve been insulted or taken advantage of in any way.

The Wee Folk are less of a faerie rank and more of a generalization of all the small size fae which include Dewdrop Faeries, Brownies, and the likes.

Pixies are a step above Dewdrop Faeries in power and were the original creators of Pixie Hollow, hence the name. However, upon seeing their power and capabilities, the Sídhe from both the Seelie and Unseelie Courts swayed them to their side with promises of power, forever garnering them as loyal servants to the Sídhe.

Please let me know if this clears things up and if there is still any confusion that doesn’t count as a spoiler, I will do my best to answer.  Hope you enjoyed the lesson.