#I promise you a 50/50

[michelleelizabethtanner]

Wait so it’s not gonna be a traditional engagement…but are they gonna get officially married?!

Hi Anon! In reference to the Brio engagement or any potential marriage set up in Rough Night and continued in Crystalline — I’m sitting here trying to think of the best way to answer this without being disappointing.

Considering the story arc as it happened in Rough Night, have they not already had a series of what essentially are commitment ceremonies? They’ve killed people – together and apart, but always for each other. They’ve chosen each other over and over, even when that choice compromised their humanity. There’s no proclamation they can make, no courtroom paper they can sign that will say more than what they’ve already said and done. The canonic arc was about Beth’s realization that she’s a monster. My post-canonic arc has been Beth settling comfortably into that role. Rio’s canonic arc was that he is fallibly human. And I’ve tried to settle him more firmly into that humanity.

Crystalline will not end in a wedding. Mostly because I can’t imagine it for them right now. I’ve read other fics where they do get married and I buy that experience. I can’t picture it for the Rough Night universe. Not in the traditional sense. I can’t see Beth in a white dress, I cannot picture them saying the words they’d need to say to cement a legal marriage. They say it in other ways in all aspects of their lives. Just the mere fact that they’re choosing to wake up next to each other every day – being the people that they are – is a statement beyond anything traditional they could do to show each other their commitment. But a little sparkle of a traditional symbol of commitment can be fun too. 😁 Kinda like them – nontraditional traditions.

Is that too many spoilers? I imagine Crystalline as just a fun little epilogue to Rough Night. Some ways to highlight their domesticity and still keep their Brio spirit in the background. You’ll have to let me know what you think of tomorrow’s chapter!

[screamingcrows]

I am sadly not immune to all the talk of Veritas Ratio in a modern university setting... (Manu - I hope I can call you that - your posts are so sweet) pair that with the autumn mood and you get this;

tags: pure fluff, they're about to be dating your honor, modern university au

minors do not interact!

Veritas had been puzzled at first, while it wasn't exactly odd for you to be fidgeting with something during lectures, it was usually limited to a specific set of items: your water bottle, some form of pen (he had a spare of your preferred tucked away in his bag for the inevitable bad days where you'd had to leave your dorm in a hurry), or the keychain on your bag.

Whatever this new item to catch your attention was, your hand had practically been glued to the inside of your pocket for two weeks.

Conveniently hidden out of sight, forcing his hand.

He catches you at your usual autumn spot, at least it was last year, a fairly secluded bench sheltered from the elements by four old chestnut trees.

You jerk in surprise when he sits down next to you, and warmth blooms in his chest when you close the book in your hand and lightly smack the top of his head. Still, there's no real power behind it. Only one hand is holding the book after all.

"Your pocket," his gaze is momentarily drawn to a lone magpie rummaging through the first yellow leaves to bed the ground.

"My pocket?"

A sigh leaves his lips as you parrot his words, turning to look upon your face. Veritas thinks his heart might burst at the soft confusion etched into your features, so reminiscent of a delicately carved masterpiece and still containing so much that could never be conveyed through cold stone.

"Yes. You've been fiddling with something in your pocket for a few weeks. At first I assumed it was a loose thread, but it persisted through days regardless of your outfit," cool air caressed his cheeks as he breathed, carefully tuning his voice to your widening eyes, "naturally, I've grown curious as to the nature of that item."

Silence sweeps through the air, enough that Veritas can faintly hear the buzz of people closer to campus. What would normally be comfortable, has him shifting a bit. Too keenly aware of your downcast eyes, his hands find solace in adjusting his scarf.

It feels invasive when you pull your hand out, and he finds that perhaps this knowledge wasn't worth the price. But the words never make it from the tip of his tongue, not before you've opened your hand to reveal a single chestnut.

He blinks, the smooth brown reflecting what warm sunlight pierces the overhanging canopy.

You're already talking again, "-and I've just always grabbed one since that, it's just a silly tradition but I enjoy it and it's harmless and-"

"Would you tell me how, in detail?"

The way your shoulders slumped a little confirmed his theory, you'd been about to rile yourself up with nervous ramblings. Veritas turned towards you, leaning against the bench while you sought out words.

"The first thing you do is to gather the very first chestnut you lay eyes on," what else was there to do but oblige in the face of your expectant pause, "and then you whisper a wish to it."

Again, he obliges, wringing his nose at the faint scent of detritus that already clings to anything picked from the ground.

"Now you just, well you carry it with you, just like you carry a wish. And if the wish comes true, then you take it to a stream and throw it in after thanking it."

"And if it doesn't?"

Veritas notes with satisfaction how smooth the chestnut feels under his skin, and how pleased you look upon catching him shift it between fingers.

"Then you return it to the ground, bury it somewhere, and let it bloom when spring comes."

A charming sentiment, even if you kept waving your hands dismissively. There'd been no deeper meaning behind it, just a parent taking measures to keep little hands occupied.

It was sweet, the memories painting your eyes with colors he couldn't imagine never getting to see again. Time worked differently with you, it always did, and too soon did the evening air chill.

Several hours had passed, time that Veritas should have spent studying, had allocated in his schedule for completing at least two assignments. Yet he couldn't quite find it in himself to mourn.

"Here," he removed his scarf to bundle it around your neck, deft hands adjusting it to let you breathe, "you were shaking, maybe it's time to head inside?"

Something foreign drifted through your eyes and held him captive, leaning forward like this would make it so easy to-

Your lips were just as forgiving as your words, molding perfectly against his even in the brief moment before his mind caught up and he pulled back.

An apology was at the tip of his tongue, cheeks already heating up and mind thrown into a frenzy unrivaled by the most advanced calculations.

All thoughts of your friendship souring turned to dust when he saw you stand, throwing your chestnut as far towards the little lake nearby as you could.

Oh.

With a thundering heart, Veritas pocketed his own chestnut, unable to resist the urge to give it a little pat.

"Wait- you still have yours? Veritas what did you wish for?"

A laugh bubbled from his chest at your expression morphing from bliss to pure petulance, the sound sending flutters through his body, how rarely he could let go.

And always in your presence.

"Veritas! It's not funny, it would've been so romantic!"

He merely hummed, enjoying the fleeting heat of your skin as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "perhaps I wished for something less fleeting."

[gach-doodles]

I was looking for Sunday reference and I realized not only did he pierce his ears and wing when he grew older, he even dyed his hair white a little on the tip?

Yeah it has always been there but I don't stare at him everyday so I didn't notice (perhaps I'm not a strong enough Sunday believer (⁠‘⁠◉⁠⌓⁠◉⁠’⁠) ?!

And sometimes I wonder when Sunday pierced his wing, did he have to shave that wing? And do feathers grow back quickly or did he have to have a naked wing on one side for a whole month or something...??

Anyway, today I offer you: baby Sunday and Robin!

This is the front side of the charm, the back side will be the current Sunday and Robin (⁠+⁠_⁠+⁠)

[attleboy]

Who dya think Pomni would've bitten?

well when i was drawing it i wasn't thinking of anyone specific... so it can be whoever you want!

however... let's go through the suspects

jax would definitely bully someone into a violent rage... no need to explain that one i think

caine and kinger might unintentionally startle pomni into attacking, but i think they're a little too... uh. weird for it to be all that climactic? caine would just go "BAD!! BAD POMNI!!" and spritz her with a spray bottle until she let go, meanwhile kinger probably wouldn't even notice until pomni had already stopped...

gangle and zooble probably wouldn't be bitten just because they'd avoid a high-strung pomni. gangle out of fear, and zooble because they're not stupid enough to poke a ticking time bomb

and for ragatha... i'm just gonna leave this other anon's idea here because... yeah

definitely unintentional on both sides, but isn't that where the best tragedy lies?

[beastrambles]

Hey, look, listen for a moment, you don't need 20 different herbs and an expensive tool kit from Etsy to be comfortable with your craft, use what you need and don't feel like you're an imposter because you didn't shell out $50 for some graveyard dirt and overpriced crystals, it'll be OK I promise

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

Blink

Synopsis

In an abandoned house, the Weeping Angels wait. The only hope to stop them is a young woman named Sally Sparrow and her friend Larry Nightingale. The only catch: the Weeping Angels can move in the blink of an eye. To defeat the ruthless enemy — with only a half of a conversation from the Tenth Doctor as help — the one rule is this: don't turn your back, don't look away and don't blink!

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

City of Death

Synopsis

While taking in the sights of Paris in 1979, the Fourth Doctor and Romana sense that someone is tampering with time. Who is the mysterious Count Scarlioni? Why does he seem to have counterparts scattered through time? And just how many copies of the Mona Lisa did Leonardo da Vinci paint?

Propaganda

even if your not a classic who fan, you have seen moments from this, “wonderful butler, he’s so violent”, “youre a beautiful woman, probably”, “if you wanted an omelette I’d expect to find a pile of broken crockery, a cooker in flames, and an unconscious chef”. The location shooting, iconic, the music, iconic, the plot, so iconic I was once watching something (non doctor who) that referenced it as a fake historical event. Dare I say duggan is the greatest side character of all time. Romana’s outfit, the design of scaroth, the implication time lords can fly. it’s not my favourite overall, but its damn near close, it deserves AT LEAST the semi finals, AT LEAST. If you’ve not seen it or any classic who, go watch it, its so good, one of the best of the era. Also, how could I forget, the most watched episode on broadcast out of all of doctor who, including new who. (yes it was because itv was off the air due to strikes, but im glad its this episode that holds the record) (anonymous)

[iamthepulta]

*stares at 30 reblogs of "deep down you want to bite someone with 100% power just once"*

*writes: "m00t is reincarnated crocodile (beloved)" on notepad*

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Professor Henry Jarrod

House of Wax (1953) dir. Andre De Toth

[septimusmoonlight]

You doing ok?

hi

[vingler-mirror]

Marcus you are everything to me

[charleslee-valentine]

Freebies

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Dosability Pride Month Event: Day 4- Gonna Be a Fun Trip

Word Count: ~2,000

Warnings: Internalized ableism, referenced period typical ableism.

_____________

Lord help him. Pray to anyone above that this damn ramp is gonna hold up.

The Sawyers fixed it up out of scrap for him, three railroad ties as the base, curved steel brackets from a car's frame screwed to two plywood slats to reinforce ‘em and wood glue so thick it might as well be a shell around the structure. And prayers. Lots of prayers

“Try it! T-Try it Franklin!” Nubbins goads from the safety of the porch, waving his arms wildly like the worst impression of a traffic cop Franklin ever seen.

Franklin eyes the contraption they built warily, “I don’ know.. We sure it’s safe?”

“Yeh!!” Nubbins answers without even lookin’ or considerin’ it, just waving around urgently for Franklin to come forward.

See the ramp is new, ‘cause his chair is new too. Finally caved in and replaced that old 1950s piece of junk for somethin’ better. Motorized. A chair that can wheel itself and don’t need him pullin’ muscles in his shoulders or Nubbins trippin’ over bent tire frames to push forward.

That’s why the last straw come, was them both takin’ a tumble ass over end down the back steps and into the yard ‘cause Nubbins’ three sizes too big for him pants got snagged on the tire spokes. Franklin got the chair and Nubbins directly on top of him which busted his wrist up pretty good, needed a home-fixed cast a while to keep from tweakin’ it funny. But that meant no manually movin’ the chair, and Nubbins sure wasn’t allowed after he supposedly caused the accident.

Now, he won’t complain about gettin’ wheeled around by Bubba, who happens to be mindful of bumps and cracks when he can be, but Bubba ain’t so patient these days. Certainly ain’t the timid kid he was when Franklin met him a little over decade ago. At almost thirty somethin’ entering his rebellious romantic phase and more interested in some angel-voiced debutante on the radio than dealin’ with Franklin’s business. Fair enough.

The obvious next step is a motorized chair, somethin’ he’d been dreamin’ of for a long, long time. Put it on every Christmas list as a kid, breathed it into the air with the smoke of a birthday wish. And every year he stayed right cooped up in that old beater he had with no illusion of independence with.

Back then he took it for folks not understanding his desire to just wander. To not exhaust himself from propelling forward and the pains shootin’ down his arms into his chest. There’s a fine difference between a self-propelling chair and a pusher chair that Franklin knew well from tearin’ his muscles over and over.

Shane he realized the world works a lot crueler than just not understanding, a coverup for the pain he felt from all of them.

Took until he’s moved out, zero contact with Mom and Pop, in with the Sawyers through some probably wicked chain of events he’d forgotten a while back, to become able to move on his own.

And here in the chair, transferred easy after practicin’ it a dozen or so times the second it was here in the yard, his hand sits on the lever but not pushing forward. He’s nervous. Overwhelmed by flittering anxieties that loom over his head like gnats around a flush.

“Most people, they go for fittings and buy these things special just for them. Don’t just stumble upon..” It’s halfway into that sentence that Franklin realizes, Nubbins never did finish tellin’ him where he got the chair past that it was available and decently clean after a supervised wipe down of all its parts. “Hold on, how did you find this thing again?”

“I-It was on the corner, with a money sign, b-but we took it. L-Like it was for- for freebies since no-nobody was usin’ it.” Nubbins fiddles with his hands ‘cause he knows Franklin ain’t gonna be th’ happiest with that answer.

Not that Nubbins is expecting anxiety and fear and guilt, which is all Franklin is currently dealin’ with. Nubbins expects anger, a smack across his face for breaking rules. While Franklin is too busy spiraling in his own head to immediately comfort him, wondering a bleak topic, “Well how do we know that? What if they needed the money from the old one to buy a better chair and now they got none?”

“Frankie, w-we don’t got no money either. Th-That wouldnt’a h-happened no how.” Nubbins reminds him meekly by raisin’ his hand and seemingly swattin’ away the worries.

“Maybe someone else shoulda got it.” Franklin just keeps worrying. As much as he was sick of his old chair, a guilty conscience gets in the way of his happiness once again. Even far away from the cruelty of certain family members, he’s so programmed to feel bad he makes himself feel that today instead of lettin’ someone else.

Thing is, Nubbins prob’ly never felt guilty once in his entire life, so good at just stickin’ with cold reality and not the wandering anxious thoughts. Impressive for someone Franklin knows got a worse than typical kind of thoughts floating in his little head.

“But y-you needs it.” He points out fairly.

Giving a big sigh, knowing it’s the end of understanding one another in this particular conversation, Franklin starts to drop it but still get some weight off.

“Lots of people need things.. I dunno.. Guess I just feel like I’m stealin’ or somethin’..”

Silence. Nubbins wasn’t listening at all. He’s busy eyeing the necklace he made for Franklin, with a tie rope so it’ll never ever shatter or break its clasp or crumble to bits like them chain necklaces do sometimes. Reaching out, he cautiously takes ahold of the charm, made from clay and bone and wood. More scrap of course.

Out of nowhere he yanks it, snatching the charm so the knot in the back of the necklace undoes itself and the whole thing slips right off.

Franklin’s too late to catch it or to grab Nubbins, just clutching his chest where the heavy charm would usually sit against his skin. Feels bare without it for some reason, if only ‘cause Nubbins was the one who made the damn jewelry in the first place.

Which he now holds way up over his head and dares Franklin to, “C-Come ‘n get me!!”

Eyeing the shifty ramp, Franklin doesn’t budge an inch. Anxiety blooms in the pit of his stomach and soothed only by watching Nubbins himself get wild and bounce around all over the creaky old porch. Might fall through himself. He calls after the movement, “Nubbins, getcha wily little ass back here!”

Scratching his scruffy chin in over-exaggerated consideration, Nubbins decides to sit on the porch bannister and think, “N-Nah. I’s comfy.”

It’s cute. Watching Nubbins mime regular sense of humor and teasing and human interaction in general always makes his heart flutter some. Franklin gives in, “Awright. Awright. Jus’- You jus wait a minute now. I don’t know how to use this thing and I might not-“

“Frankie, c’mon!” Nubbins interrupts the stammering, bouncing all over. He’s so excited to see this new contraption in action. Impatient for it even though it’s about to happen.

The jumping is gonna crack the boards of the porch, and seeing as the ramps shows a complete lack of knowin’ to work with wood, Franklin decides to just do it. Wheel right towards Nubbins and go to him when he calls.

All it takes is a push of that little lever. Franklin squeezes his eyes shut as the wheelchair mechanisms whirr to life, noisily drawing him forward. The feeling is a lot like floating on water. No pressure in his body, no pain just from movin’, just a smooth glide.

Well, smooth as it can be over dry grass and then the dreaded ramp. His wheels stay firmly grounded, however many there are under the structure of this thing, and he’s safe, but it’s still scary to get used to, rockin’ around like that.

He clears the top of the ramp and maneuvers messily in reverse, some kinda eighteen point turn, to face Nubbins instead of the wall, “Christ that was-“

“Y-You did it! You did it! Frankie done it!!” Nubbins congratulates him, grabbing his hands and squeezing excitedly.

It ain’t the heat from the effort of movin’ around that he can blame anymore for the way he knows his face flushes bright red, equal parts bashful and flattered, “It ain’t that excitin’ now! Jus’ pushed a button..”

“But i-it’s good.” Nubbins argues, wide smile firmly in place.

“I s’pose..”

“A-A-And you’re good!”

His eagerness is a little overwhelming. Franklin worms a hand free to fidget, scratching at the back of his curly hair, “I don’ know ‘bout all that..”

Then Nubbins leans into him all serious, thick eyebrows frown tight together and bony finger stab in’ into his chest, “H-Hush it. You gets all sh-shy.”

“I’m ‘llowed to be shy.” He defends, but it crackles a little. With the confrontation between his old broken shell of a heart and his new found longing.

“Yeh. You allowed t-to be not shy s-sometimes too.” Nubbins reminds him, easing up some by straightening out, not entirely breathing on Franklin’s face anymore.

Now he has the confidence to tease back, “Like you, huh?”

“Ezactly!” A bright stream of giggles comes from Nubbins suddenly, impressed by Franklin’s clever. He likes it a lot when he argues against him, stands up for himself.

Decides to reward his bravery against the monsters in his head with some affection. At first, Nubbins tries to wrap his arms around Franklin, wheelchair back and all, but it’s too big and clunky for all that. Instead, he decides to pass along some kisses.

On his forehead because it’s easy to reach, Nubbins plants wet kiss after wet kiss to Franklin’s forehead.

“That’s enough now.” Franklin says, but he’s laughing too now, no longer so stuck up. That’s why Nubbins likes havin’ him round so much, gives him some kinda purpose cheerin’ him up and lovin’ him good all the time likes that.

But Nubbins isn’t taking ‘no more’ for an answer, since this is a game of cat and mouse afterall. He’s a smart mouse that knows, the cat ain’t gonna put up with him if he skitters ‘round too quick and stupid. Holding up his hand, he asks for permission to give another kiss, “One m-more for the road?”

“Sure, but I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You know that.” Franklin hums while tilting his head back some so Nubbins can reach. This time he kisses his cheek, close to his mouth, a little smear of blood from a scab he ripped off wiping on Franklin's skin.

He wants to kiss that one away too to make it better, “A-And o-one to grow on?”

“Nubbins, I mean it. Just cause I can get ‘round a little better don’t mean I’d ever leave ya. Wouldn’t even dream it.” Franklin takes it all seriously.

And it doesn’t make Nubbins upset. This wheelchair business is always serious, always hard. Jokin’, and playin’ and bein mean, he can do that any old place that don’t got a Franklin, but what would be the point? He’s maybe just a little in love.

“I-I’s holdin’ you to that. Ain’t gonna f-forget it.”

“I know.” Franklin smiles, wiping the blood off his face by himself.

“Ain’t s-stupid.” Nubbins testified agin on his first point.

“Hey, now. I know that.” His Franklin interrupts, switching the subjects about to,“Thank you Nubbins. For the chair. And the help.”

Nubbins nods and starts to rock on his heels. Accepting thanks is still as new to him as a fancy alien wheelchair is to Franklin. That, “And th-the lovin’?

He’s in love with Franklin. The Mom and Pop kind. The get hitched by the garden out back in pretty clothes and never let Franklin leave again type.

And Franklin, receiver of affection and gifts and acceptance, now that’s he’s finally feelin’ capable for the first time, agrees, “Especially that.”

[fruityumbrella]

cliches are cliches for a reason! tropes become enshrined for a REASON! <- mantra of a guy about to write zoro being in love w sanji first. again. and yes they are hooking up the whole time. obviously

[deadqueernoldor]

Thinking thoughts about those from Cuivienen and how they later treated the Valar, especially after Cuivienen was destroyed.

I imagine a foundation of sorrow and a layer of betrayal and pettiness. They had promised safety. And how did it turn out? Kin of Tata and Tatie their first leaders, slain in Valinor by the Dark Hunter from which the Valar promised protection in Valinor.

And then, the War of Wrath comes and with it the destruction of Cuivienen.

If any of those were re-embodied in Aman, I wonder if they make it a point to always turn their back to Valar and Maiar. I wonder if they only speak in the tongue they had first devised all those millennia ago and spoke in Cuivienen before time and different kindreds changed the tongue, not Sindarin or Quenya from the Great Journey's time or later. I wonder if they sing songs in their ancient tongue, songs about the beauty and unsullied health of Cuivienen every time any of the Ainur are near.

I wonder if the Valar feel any shame when those who they once looked upon in wonder and love gaze back at them with indifference or disgust.

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF MASS EFFECT: VIRMIRE

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard and Cmdr. Dominik Shepard With: Lt. Kaidan Alenko, Gun. Chief Ashley Williams, Urdnot Wrex, and Tali'Zorah nar Rayya Ft. Special Guest Appearances by: Spec. Saren Arterius and Sovereign There is a realm of existence so far beyond your own, you cannot even imagine it... Mass Effect: Legendary Edition (2021)

[therefugeofbooks]

[17.08.24] 9/50 days or booklr

I've finished reading Garden of Earthly Bodies which has a very weird premise and I just wish it had been even weirder. And then I was so excited to know about Casey McQuiston's new book! But unfortunately, this one fell flat for me. The Pairing sounded very cool but I found the characters annoying and the misunderstandings silly. But I can see this one still working out for some people.

[isatoru]

whats also genuinely bizarre to me is seeing straight men with ISAGI profile pictures being bigots in comment sections… dont let me OR ISAGI catch you calling that man your fucking goat ever again