#I went into this with no knowledge of what this was about

[kitasgloves]

Having thoughts about arranged marriage au! with FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY. He only married you to get associated with your family's wealth. Oh, but poor naive you, who always believed in fairy tales and love stories. You believed you could love a mysterious, cynical, and dark man like Fyodor.

How pathetically determined you were trying to win his affection. Fyodor thought you were some sort of idiot for not taking a hint that he wasn't interested in romance. You two didn't share a room even if you two were married. There were no tender sentiments or words from him. He told you he wasn't keen on physical affection, surprise gifts, planned dates, or celebrating anniversaries. He strictly told you to keep your distance and listen to everything he said. The fact that you were eager to obey him made him think of you as positively foolish.

However, you were persistent. You tried to cook him food and sneak him small gifts. You made attempts to sing him love songs and throw small parties. You were a true romantic who believed in the magic of love. You were eager to have your husband fall for you as you fell for him.

Unfortunately, Fyodor was at his breaking point. You were so damn annoying and stubborn that it was getting difficult to contain his frustration with you. He snaps at you during dinner when you've planned another extravagant surprise for him.

"Didn't I tell you to quit that? We are not lovers, [Name]. We are only spouses on paper. I do not care about your affection for me"

He couldn't forget that evening. The moment Fyodor spoke those words, the glimmer in your eyes died. He felt momentarily satisfied thinking that you have finally snapped out of it. The following days were a series of odd changes from you.

Mornings were...quiet, for once. You stopped babbling nonsense to him and only focused on cooking and cleaning up. You ceased the gifts and surprise parties. You even quit playing those annoying love songs on the radio that he despises so much. It seemed as though someone had taken the battery out of you.

At first, Fyodor was pleased but as the days progressed, he felt...uncomfortable. He wouldn't like to admit but he does notice a lot of things about you. Such as your habits, and how you seemed to forcefully change them despite your discomfort. With your sudden quietness, he could see how you were avoiding his gaze and biting your tongue when alone together. And lastly, the disappearance of your fondness for him.

He despised to think how he appreciated how you paid attention to his preferences. You always knew which tea he liked, what classical music was his favorite, and how you often looked out for his health considering he has anemia. Now, you grew distant and stopped bothering him for attention.

Has your foolish infatuation with him vanished? If so, why does his chest feel tight? Fyodor waited for you to revert to you how you used to be. Cheerful, loud, and affectionate. He expects you to surprise him with a gift. The house seemed so empty without your constant talking.

Have you given up on romance? Or was it all just a childish dream to you all along?

You don't understand why Fyodor has been staring at you lately. He's been hanging around the house so much that it's suspicious. You can feel him following you around in every room as if expecting something. You're done trying to woo him and you've come to accept the fact that your husband is a cruel man. So, you grant his wishes and stop pestering him. However, in return, he's begun to silently pester you.

When you wish to be alone, Fyodor's always trailing behind you. He was beginning to praise your cooking unlike before. He invites you to go to the library to read or listen to Tchaikovsky with him. Whenever you leave without his knowledge and then return home, Fyodor wants to know where you went.

The old you would've been over the moon from all the attention he was giving you, but you've grown to lose your positivity about this marriage.

"Fyodor?"

"Yes, [Name]?"

"I think we should have a divorce"

The sound of the teacup clattering against the saucer fills the air. You slid the divorce papers across the table towards your husband. Fyodor swallows and blinks, registers his spilled tea and the divorce papers you have produced. He collects his composure.

"Why?"

"I don't see the point of this marriage anymore"

Fyodor likes to convince himself that he's not affected. It should be a benefit or a good opportunity to find someone better to marry. Yes, he's indifferent to the sight of your glassy eyes and wobbling lip. He does not care about the misery you carry of being married to him. Oh, what an absolute liar he was.

"No"

"...What?"

"We are not getting a divorce, [Name]"

You watched with ache as Fyodor took the divorce papers and tore them into shreds in front of your face. Your blood felt hot. Was he purposely torturing you? He has to be. Fyodor is nothing but a selfish man. He revels in your misery of bearing his last name.

Truly, Fyodor was selfish. Why? He couldn't bear to see you go or remarry somebody else. He couldn't stand for you to find your perfect fairytale romance with someone else. Your fondness should only belong to him. Was he not your first romance? Was he not the first one to ever witness your tender eyes? Fyodor just couldn't fathom you gifting another your previous affections. Nobody seemed worthy enough but he.

"We will make this marriage work"

You looked at him from across the table with contempt. You fail to register the determined and passionate look in his eyes.

You will learn to adore me again, one way or another

I've been brainrotting about Fyodor who tries to win his spouse's love back realizing that they're falling out of love with him like pleaaaase he's so unhinged when he's in love

[marzipanandminutiae]

Hello!

I am an aspiring author who struggles with accurately portraying historical clothing, and I stumbled across your blog while searching for photographs and information on late 19th century/USA Gilded Age fashion. From the research I've seen compiled across books/the internet, the clothing of the upper class from that area is very well documented in paintings, garment catalogues, photographs, museums, etc....but finding information on what the day-to-day wear of normal people was like is proving much more difficult. Since you seem to be knowledgeable in the subject of historical clothing in this approximate time period, I was wondering if you knew about any good resources to learn more about what people who couldn't afford to follow upper class trends were wearing in the general era as well as any general information around these items.

If it helps, I'm focused on eastern and southeastern United States farming/small railroad town/mountain mining/gulf coast wetland communities, but even just more general resources about what sort of clothing that the average poor person during the Gilded Age wore would be greatly helpful. I've been able to find a few photographs here and there, but these probably aren't an accurate depiction of a persons' 'day-to-day' wear, and I also haven't found much on how women learned to sew homemade clothes, what garments if any would have been bought, where people in rural areas would have sourced their cloth, what undergarments were like, how work shoes were made & aquired, ect.

Please feel free to ignore this if it isn't something you're interested in answering as I'm sure you get a lot of asks, but I'd greatly appreciate it if you have any pointers!

So here's the thing about 19th-century clothing:

in many ways, it's the same all the way down

now, that's a serious generalization. is a farm wife in Colorado going to be wearing the same thing as a Vanderbilt re: materials, fit, and up-to-the-minute trendiness? obviously not. but because so much of what people wore back then has only survived to the present day in our formalwear- long skirts, suits, etc. -we tend to have difficulty recognizing ordinary or "casual" clothing from that period. I also sometimes call this Ballgownification, from the tendency to label literally every pretty Victorian dress a Ball Gown (even on museum websites, at times). Even work clothing can consist of things you wouldn't expect to be work clothing- yes, they sometimes worked in skirts that are long by modern standards, or starched shirts and suspenders. Occupational "crap job clothes" existed, but sometimes we can't recognize even that because of modern conventions.

A wealthy lady wore a lot of two-piece dresses. Her maid wore a lot of two-piece dresses. The trailblazing lady doctor working at the hospital down the road from her house wore a lot of two-piece dresses. The factory worker who made the machine lace the maid used to trim her church dress wore a lot of two-piece dresses. The teenage daughter of the farm family that raised the cows that supplied the city where all those people lived wore a lot of- you get the idea. The FORMAT was very similar across most of American and British society; the variations tended to come in fabrics, trims, fit precision, and how frequently styles would be updated.

Having fewer outfits would be common the further down the social ladder you went, but people still tried to have as much underwear as possible- undergarments wicked up sweat and having clean ones every day was considered crucial for cleanliness. You also would see things changing more slowly- not at a snail's pace, but it might end up being a few years behind the sort of thing you'd see at Newport in the summer, so to speak. Underwear was easier to make oneself than precisely cut and fitted outer garments for adults (usually professionally made for all but the poorest of the poor for a long time- dressmakers and tailors catering to working-class clientele did exist), but that also began to be mass-produced sooner than outer clothing. So depending on the specific location, social status, and era, you might see that sort of thing and children's clothing homemade more often than anything else. Around the 1890s it became more common to purchase dresses and suits ready-made from catalogues like Sears-Roebuck, in the States, though it still hadn't outpaced professional tailoring and dressmaking yet. Work shoes came from dedicated cobblers, and even if you lived in isolated areas, VERY few people in the US and UK wove their own fabric. Most got it from the nearest store on trips to town, or took apart older garments they already had to hand and reused the cloth for that.

I guess the biggest thing I want to emphasize is that, to modern eyes, it can be very hard to tell who is rich and who is anywhere from upper-working-class to middling in Gilded Age photographs. Because just like nowadays a custodial worker and Kim Kardashian might both wear jeans and a t-shirt, the outfit format was the same for much of society.

Candid photography can be great for this sort of thing:

Flower-sellers in London's Covent Garden, 1877. Note that the hat on the far right woman is only a few years out-of-date; she may have gotten it new at the time or from a secondhand clothing market, which were quite popular on both sides of the Atlantic.

Also London, turn of the 20th century.

A family in Denver, Colorado, c. early 1890s.

Train passengers, Atlanta, Georgia, probably 1890s.

Hope this helps!

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Previously... "How you wished your phone hadn't died few days ago"

Me: Gentlemen,Ladies and Enby's. I have an solution >:)

OKAY OKAY SO,The party fights Yellow Loong and after defeat,they get their thunder staff,yeah? Reader thinks it's so cool and then it clicks to them to CHARGE their phone by the use of the staff!!! Which does work HAHA instantly goes %100 in span of 5 seconds lmao

And reader shows the destined one some photos (like their family,friends of school/college,time they went to zoo and hold finger monkey,yes. It's a thing,look at it up hehe)

At last,reader takes selfie with The destined one and Zhu Baige cuz they don't want to forget them c:

Also drink water,gotta stay hydrated! 💜🫵🏻

"This will never work."

"And if it works, you'll be so sorry you had doubted me, old man!"

Bajie, sighing, Just pointed out the destined one, who was holding that small black tablet in his right hand with the nail of his pinky in the small hole at the base of the same object.

"Kid, stop indulge her! Be the rational one here!"

"What can I say?" He said, shrugging his shoulders, "I'm quite curious too about this phone thing."

"Oooh, yes, of course! Cuuurious, he said. Well, if it's turned out to burn at a crisp, do not come cry to me, young lady!"

You just laugh it out; even if it were true, you knew that the old pig was a soft heart for you and would surely comfort you.

"Ok so," you started to explain for the last time, "go really low on the voltage, enough to the cilinder with the green liquid to appear. Once Is full and made a sound, stop!"

"It seems simple; sure, is it going to work?"

"Well, maybe? ... Anyway, it doesn't matter! Just go!"

So, what were you up to this time?

A few days after your arrival, your phone, as you suspected would have happened, had died since the lack of electricity.

Between a deadly danger and another being eaten attempt, your mind completely forgotten about the device's lost usage until, after the fight against Yellowbrow, the idea of using that newfound power struck you.

You weren't sure that it could work; you were prepared to lose forever your phone, to be fair, but a small try never hurt anyone, right?

And fortune favorite, the bold!

After the small sound front the phone, you started to jump in happiness, finally with the last connection of your original world in your hands.

"AH! YES! IT WORK IT WORK! AHAH!"

The other two laughed a little, noticing how your fingers were able to move in the device with knowledge and security.

"All right, all right," said Bajie, sitting next to you when you decided to calm down. "Now, what does this little thing do?"

"Okay! Basically, we use It tò call people, message them...communication in general!"

"Oh so..." Yuán Fèn seemed startled when, after touching one of the apps on the screen, the color changed "is like... a bird or... and Messanger?"

"Well yes? Everything happens in seconds instead of hours or days! Unfortunately, without connection, it's useless for that part."

"Ah! So I was right! "

"Buuuut It can do something more intriguing for you!"

Once you shot the camera, your two friends, after a brief moment of surprise from their own faces showing up inside that small box, seemed more interested than before.

"Is that a mirror?"

"Nope! It's a camera! We use it to make photos!"

"What's a pho-u-toh?"

"Photo! Or photograph!" You laugh after Bajie misspells "it's like a panting, but far more precise. Using light, you can press the image on paper. Now, a phone camera doesn't exactly work like that, but you get the idea."

You stod up and put the device in front of the pigface.

"Now smile! I'll show you!"

After you took the picture, with the image of a still confused Bajie on it, you showed it to him. After a moment of silence, he started to laugh about it.

"You are surely full of surprises!"

///

"HEY! Is that a baby?!"

"Baby, aren't you that small, you dork!"

"Yes, they are! They smal like your brain!"

Once again, you have to save yourself and your phone from another monkey's fist fight between the children. Now that you had shown them your small magic box, like they like to call it, they were always eager to make one with you or ask you to make one for them, only to laugh about their own faces or what was happening. You even make a few videos of them, which just make them go more crazy than before. 

But then they discovered your other photos.

They seemed to enjoy, especially the ones that you had taken the day you had decided to help your auntie in her school trip at the Zoo. They loved the ones that you had taken at the monkey enclosure; they loved to see that you were familiar with their kind even before the change of world!

Well, they weren't the only ones that enjoyed the device. Once, you decided to show it to the youngest of the spider sisters, showing her the video that you took of her while dancing, and she laughed all the time, enjoying it to see her own performance.

You even took the chance to use it to make ohotos of every place that you and the Destined one were able to visit. Yellow ridge, the snowy fields, the mountains...every place was a new set for one of your photos, and every time he was inside too.

He had never shown quite the interest like everyone, but he seemed still happy to know that you wanted to cherish the memories that you had there with him. But what he really loved were your own memories, the photos of your past, and your family. He loved sharing them with you, knowing you deeper.

"This is your..."

"Cousin. My cousin."

"Oh yes, yes...and this is your cat, right?"

"Sorta, it shows up now and then. I like to leave it some food for it, so it doesn't starve."

"Ah, got it..." then another photo, that you tried to pass fastly, had passed under his eyes of you near someone.

"And that one? The one with the guy?"

"Ah, it was nothing." Your tone seemed almost off, like to avoid the discussion.

"Nothing?" He raised his eyebrows. "I saw you smiling! How was it nothing?"

And soon, you get back on the photo and delete it.

"As I said, nothing."

It seemed that he still needed to know you better.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan @lightlumi

@cleverfeststarlight

[season-77]

New Shaun, people!!!! And a report from the Q&A after the matinee!

"Went to see Here in America yesterday. Very small theatre( about 150 seats) in the round so felt quite intense. We had front row tickets so actors about a foot away! There are only 4 actors so Shaun is on stage most of the time. Interesting to hear him with an American accent too. I didn't really know too much about Kazan or Miller or what happened but was glad I'd read up beforehand.

Luckily for us there was a Q and A session after the matinee with Shaun and the Assistant Director. He said he'd met the Director at a play Anton Lesser was in and had expressed an interest in working with him. He's also a fan of the Orange Tree so was pleased to work there. Apparently the writer had said in rehearsals that although the play is based on historical events it's still relevant to what is happening today. Method acting is one of the things mentioned in the play and Shaun said it's not something he does. He had read Kazan' s autobiography and book on directing and watched films of the era to imagine the character. He quoted Einstein " imagination is more important than knowledge " . He writes ideas in a notebook which he produced from his pocket. He also said he enjoys directing and acting and would like to continue with both.

We were even luckier to meet Shaun as we were leaving and hubby asked if he could take a photo of me with " the other man in my life"

[thelesbianpoirot]

https://www.tumblr.com/mxjackparker/753081416791769088/characters-in-poverty-in-media-dont-end-up?source=share

bro what the fuck 💀

they acknowledge that poor people are more likely to turn to prostitution/porn/stripping out of economic desperation but then theyre like “this is actually a good thing btw #fuckswerfs”

im so bewildered

I remember a friend of mine who said "I want my character to be horribly traumatized, and have a dark fuck up backstory that informs the whole life, and causes them to seek death, so I made them a former teen prostitute." And the same friend of mine also went, "That is so cool! Make that money girl!" When a nineteen year old friend of hers who immigrated to Canada said she joined an escort service. She knows damn well being a prostitute really fucks you up mentally, but she also has bought into the "Sex work is empowering and consensual!" campaign and waking up to the evil of it will put them at odds with a leftist/modern/"seemly progressive" belief and that would mean questioning the whole movement and that is too much work, and alienates you from much of your peers.

And also it means changing your behavior, if "Sex work" is acknowledged as rape, you can't watch porn anymore, can't ever go to a strip club again, and you have to recognize your funny legend friend who went to Amsterdam to fuck a prostitute went on vacation to rape women and the whole friend group had a laugh about it. It is hard work to knowledge this, and many people rather not do it. It is depressing to realize how fucked up the world is for poor women, it's easier to pretend they are sexy kink women looking to make some extra cash...

[honeysylvan]

🌹 Belial Rose 🌹

the girl with the demon blood

When the prestigious Hawthorne family heir’s dalliance with a demon led to an unwanted pregnancy, her family gave her an ultimatum: disown the child, or be disowned herself. When the demon-hybrid was born, her mother left her with only one thing: the name Belial, meaning “worthless.” Belial grew up in an orphanage in Moonwood Mill with no connection to her family in Glimmerbrook. Little is known about demons, and Belial was shunned by spellcasters and avoided by other occults. Despite her rough upbringing, Belial was nothing if not resourceful; she focused on her studies and managed to graduate high school early and secure her independence at only sixteen. When she left the orphanage, she didn’t look back. Belial spent the next three years traveling, searching for answers about her demonic heritage. She poured over vampire tomes in Forgotten Hollow, learned the traditions of the mermaids in Sulani, and even went back to Moonwood Mill to study ancient werewolf writings. But fear kept her from returning to Glimmerbrook—until she heard of the Embers Academy Spellcasting Tournament. If anyone would know more about her bloodline, it would be the very Sage of Untamed Magic themselves. Swallowing her fear, Belial set off to enter the tournament with the hopes that winning would put her in Morgyn’s good graces.

For @adelarsims Embers Academy Spellcasting Tournament! Other information below the cut 🌹

BIOGRAPHICAL

Name: Belial Rose Age: 19 (Young Adult) Pronouns: she/her Gender: Woman Sexuality: Bisexual Ethnicity: White Species: Spellcaster-Demon Hybrid Traits: Loyal, Overachiever, Music Lover, Perfectionist*, Creative* + Gregarious Additional Traits: Ancient Bloodline, Unhappy Infant, Idea Person, Low Self-Esteem, Compassionate, Responsible, Spice Hound, Observant, Speed Reader, Night Owl, Brave Aspiration: Big Happy Family Education: graduated high school early | no university degree  Career: N/A — takes on odd jobs to survive Lifestyle(s): Frequent Traveler Likes & Dislikes:  Activity - Cooking, Gardening, Gemology, Mixology, Research & Debate, Singing, Violin, Wellness, Writing | Mischief, Programming, Snowboarding, Video Gaming Color - Pink | Black Conversation Topics - Deep Thoughts, Discussing Hobbies, Discussing Interests, Physical Intimacy, Stories | Deception, Gossip, Malicious Interactions, Pranks Sim Characteristics - Cerebral, Family-Motivated, Idealist, Nature Enthusiasts, Pet Enthusiasts | Ambitionless, Argumentative, Egotistical, Rascals Music Genre - Classical, Cottagecore, Singer Songwriter | METAL, Ranch, Strange Tunes Turn-Ons & Turn-Offs: Way of Life - Academic, Culinary, Health & Sports, Interpersonal, Nature | Slacker, Media & Technology, Taken Characteristics - Cerebral, Family-Motivated, Idealist, Nature Enthusiasts, Pet Enthusiasts, Spirited | Ambitionless, Argumentative, Egotistical, Messy Romance Styles - Affection, Physical Intimacy, WooHoo | N/A Hair Color - Auburn, Black, Blonde, Brown, Orange | Platinum, White Outfit Color - Black, Red, White | Pink Fashion - N/A | Costumes Skills: Cooking - 6 | Gardening - 7 | Gemology - 8 | Herbalism - 6 | Logic - 9 | Medium - 5 | Mixology - 5 | Research & Debate - 8 | Singing - 9 | Vampire Lore - 12 | Wellness - 7 | Writing - 6

*I have the more traits in CAS mod, but if you don’t have that, then feel free to stick with just Loyal, Overachiever, and Music Lover!

SPELLCASTER

Rank: Acolyte Familiar: none Wand: none Broom: gnarled wood broom Perks: Knowledge Is Magic, Discharge, Power Shunt, Insightful Eye, Spellcaster Socialite Known Spells: Floralorial, Scruberoo, Repario, Deliriate, Inferniate, ZipZap, Chilio, Necrocall Known Potions: Nimble Mind, Good Fortune, Emotional Stability

FUN FACTS

Her favorite flowers are roses, and when she left the orphanage she took “Rose” as her last name.

What Belial wants most are family and friends to call her own. She’s fiercely loyal and protective, but her lack of experience with interpersonal connections growing up means she has a hard time making friends.

Because she never returned to Glimmerbrook to study formally at an academy or with a mentor, all of Belial’s magical abilities are self-taught. She’s only managed to get as far as she has due to her work ethic, talent, and stubbornness.

She’s incredibly honest, and hates when people lie.

In addition to being very academic, she loves to sing and is quite creative. She loves to learn and experience new things.

She is touch-starved and very much craves affection and physical intimacy.

She doesn’t have a familiar yet, but wants a cat.

She casts with her hands near-exclusively, finding it far more comfortable and natural to do so.

Due to her demonic heritage, spicy foods don’t bother her at all—but she is unaware why.

She has a proclivity for untamed magic.

LOOKBOOKS**

**The only CC in her non-everyday looks are 2 hairstyles, some makeup, and items that are already in her everyday looks. If any CC in any of her outfits needs to be removed/changed, please let me know!

If you read all this you're a saint 🩷 Thank you!

Private DL 🌹

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - Aemond Targaryen

Chapter 6: A Snake in the Garden

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 3.3k (two fic posts in one day? booked and busy) ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ not all of the elves are so welcoming, but sometimes anger can bring clarity.

It was early morning and the light from the fireflies and strung-up lanterns illuminated the garden you were in. It was located just outside your room and full of countless herbs and other plants that you needed to keep stocked in the laboratory. You had begun your routine of tending to patients, meeting with Lyra a little longer than most, and entered the laboratory when Daeron sent you on a mission to stock up some of the dwindling plant stores. You did not think how much you would miss gathering plants until you were set about that task again for the first time in many days. 

You were winding through the garden. All of these ingredients grew in little light but bloomed like nothing else. You relished in the ability to be away from work, while still completing a useful task. Your body went through the motions of cutting off leaves or stems when needed and placing them in their respective jars that sat in the wicker basket next to you. You hummed quietly to yourself, lost in your task. 

Like a cloud blocking the sun, a figure stood just behind your kneeled figure and blocked the light from the lanterns strung above. You ceased yourself from cutting a leaf from a plant and turned around. An elf stood, his eyes piercing you with simmering hatred. You recognized him from just a few short days prior. It was the same elf that had been walking beside Aemond when you passed him in the hall. His skin looked sunkissed, despite there being little sun that actually penetrated through the canopy of trees. His dark hair matched the darkness of the deep forest beyond the settled lands. 

He was altogether the embodiment of the elvish characteristic of beauty, but there was something wrong about the energy he gave off; it was almost predatorial. 

“Make any progress yet?” He spoke. 

Your face scrunched up in confusion as you rose to your feet, “What?”

“Is your kind so stupid as to not understand words?” The elf had his arms held behind him and he puffed out his chest in indignation. 

“I am merely confused by such a sudden question from someone I do not know.” You met his scorn with a tone of veiled aggression. He seemed to catch on to your attitude and it only angered him further. 

He looked you up and down with judgement, “Remember your place. You are nothing but an unwelcome guest, I am on the King’s council, Ser Criston Cole.” 

You held back a retort. He was obviously looking to anger you, for why would he even bother to stop and talk? You breathed in and out and remained calm. He would not get a rise out of you. There was no way you would further instil whatever ridiculous negative notions he had about your kind. 

“Oh, my humble apologies,” You presented a veneer of respect, though deeply despised it, “I spoke out of turn. Forgive me, my nature as a human must have gotten the better of me.” 

Criston seemed satisfied at your words, “A human and a woman. It’s a wonder you’ve risen to such a station.” He adjusted his posture to lean on one leg. You reached down and picked up the wicker basket of herbs and brushed at your skirt. 

“Princess Helaena honoured me with her advocacy so I may take up such a position.” You know you hit a nerve, for he could not rebuke what you said without inadvertently insulting the princess. A quiet huff escaped his mouth as the two of you stood there. You stared one another down, each silently challenging the other to strike first. 

“As if your knowledge can come close to that of the elves?” He challenged. It seemed as though he was not willing to give up the fight easily. 

“My father was an exemplary scholar whose research has led us closer than ever to finding a cure, Ser Criston.” Your voice slowed upon reaching his name, undercut with disgust. 

“Was?” He rebuked, “Maybe humans should stop trifling in matters that do not bother them, lest something unsavoury happens.” 

Criston’s words made you choke down any possible means to defend yourself. The mere mention of the possibility of your father meeting an unjust end had your stomach rolling. It was something that had been long toiling in your mind. He had been gone for so long, a part of you was relentless in coming to terms with the fact that he may not dwell on this earth anymore. The reminder of it - of the very real reality of it all - paralyzed your body. 

You compose yourself, “The taint affects the world. We all must work to stop it.” 

Criston then gestured behind him, his arm outstretched, in some kind of mockery, “Well, by all means, you must get on with it.” His mouth curled into a grin. You did not want to walk away with him having dismissed you. It felt like a surrender on your end, but truly you had no care to continue. He could think and act however he wished, but he would not have you lash out and further jeopardize your stay in the kingdom. 

You bowed slightly and walked around him. You knew he was staring you down as you left - there was no way he was not by the terrible dread you felt. It was with only a look that he could raise the hairs on the back of your neck. His gaze was predatory, in every sense of the word. He seeked to exploit you - for reasons unknown. You merely were nothing but a possible plaything to beat around and annoy. 

Once you knew you were out of his vision, you released your anger and stormed down the halls of the castle toward your study. Your hastened and heavy footsteps pounded against the stone like heavy rain. Who was he to question your merits? You were here, that counted for something. You knew that elves were naturally imbued with more wisdom - they lived so long it was no question. Perhaps, that wisdom did not translate to being smart. 

You already showed your prowess in knowledge. You had even beat Daeron at the progression towards a cure. One of your experiments worked - if only for a moment. That was something he and other elf healers had failed to do. You knew, despite your lack of experience, there was something in your mind that made you equal to them. At least, you hoped there was something there. 

You had arrived at your study and set the ingredients down before making haste to the library. If there was one place you could expect peace and quiet, it would be there. You had shut the door abruptly and marched in. Your feet took you from the ground level to the first level in the many balconies that encircled the inside of the tower. You were so lost in your march to cool down that you bumped into one of the shelves, making a couple of books tumble to the floor. 

A sigh escaped your lips. Everything had been building up inside after Criston’s desperate attempt at angering you - which unfortunately worked. Watching those books fall was like stones falling from a damn and you had no way of releasing that pent-up frustration. You knelt down to pick them up. One of the books, bound in dark black leather and detailed with iron bindings piqued your curiosity. You placed the other books back in their respective spots but carried the other one away. 

You made your way down to the ground floor where all of the tables were. Picking a spot in from of the centre fireplace, you sat down and opened the cover; forgetting all about your disturbed morning in the garden.

You were on a mission. The past few hours were spent scanning through the book you found. It was a tome on more unconventional plants linked to the use of dark magic. While a topic such as that would normally throw you off, you had decided there would be no harm in reading it. However, you did not expect to become so enraptured with the study and use of these bizarre plants. 

It was when you stumbled upon one plant that felt so familiar. The sketches on the side were well done with in-depth observations written down. It looked like the belladonna plant, but the flower was much darker. Mortua terra. That was the name inscribed to such a plant. It sparked an idea in your mind and that was how you now found yourself marching through the laboratory and into the sick hall in search of Daeron. At the end of the hall, by some of the grand windows, was a balcony where Daeron would settle to get some written work done in the encompassing environment of the elder trees and fireflies. 

The door was already open and you spotted your friend in a chair by a wooden desk, hastily scribbling down on a piece of parchment. A lone candle burned on the desk with a wax melter on top. You took a moment to take in the sight of the lit-up darkness around you and noticed the white stone settlements throughout the trees with elves going about their day. 

“Daeron?” You questioned. He halted his movements and looked up. When he spotted you, a friendly smile made its way on his face. 

“Do you need anything?”  

You placed the book down on his desk, and opened to the page on the flower you found. “I was wondering if I could receive an escort to get this plant. I think it may be of use.” 

Daeron inspected the page, reading the words. He flipped the book to the cover and read the title while his other hand keept his place in the pages. His face was a mix of curious and anxious. 

“No.” His tone was unnerved. Daeron closed the book and shoved it towards you. You picked it up and wrapped the book in your arms. 

“No?” You were both confused and disappointed, “Why?” You wanted a reason for his hasty dismissal of your suggestion. The whole time you had worked with him, he was always open to trying new ideas. Daeron was an elf who loved to expand his knowledge, so why was he so resistant to this?

“This is nearing dark magic,” Daeron reasoned, “That is not something one would wish to dabble in.” He picked up his quill and began to write again. 

“The taint is dark, right?” You steeled yourself to remain calm. You were steadfast in your position and would not waver. As with your last experiment that was almost successful, you felt the same deep need to pursue this one. 

“Where are you going with this?” Daeron shifted a pile of parchment on his desk. In the short time you had known one another, he could tell when you were gearing up to present an argument. 

“My last experiment involved the principle of poison against poison. It obviously did not work. But what if the taint is dark magic and not poison? Why can’t we use dark magic to fight itself?” The idea had come to you in the library as you flipped through the book. It came from nowhere but had taken root in your mind. 

Daeron stopped fiddling with objects on his desk. He rested his elbows against the surface and brought his hands together, “Do you know a single thing about dark magic?” 

“Admittedly, no, but-”

“If you did, you would know this is a dead end.” He cut you off. His shoulders were squared and his head was tilted slightly. 

You rested your hands on the desk as you leaned down to speak to him more clearly, “Daeron-”

“No, this is for your safety as well. That magic requires types of sacrifices I would not wish on anyone.” He spoke with such sincerity that you almost wavered. He was only doing it to protect you, but if you were truly honest, you cared little for your safety when it came to the possibility of finding a cure. What was a single life when compared to countless others? 

“Please,” Your voice whispered as the fireflies above seemed to fly more erratically, “I truly think we could have something here.” You did not wish to beg, but if that is what you must do, you will do it. 

Daeron looked into your eyes and folded. He hung his head down and nervously picked at his fingers, a habit you had seen Helaena do several times. His chest rose and he exhaled a long sigh, “I will think about it. If we get more desperate, then possibly, but you must understand what you are asking to do.” 

“Then help me understand,” You responded. Daeron looked around the balcony - as if searching for a way to get out of answering. 

He spoke your name with a sudden ounce of severity, “One day, but not today.” 

You stopped holding on to the desk and stepped back, taking the book with you. There was nothing but silence from the forest around and you could hear your own breath. Daeron went back to his work, dismissing you in a way that reminded you of Aemond when he dismissed you in the library. With the amount of similarities you started to find between the Targaryen siblings, you began to wonder about their childhood. Surely, if they shared such subtle characteristics, they had grown up quite close. 

With your dismissal, you left the balcony and walked back into the sick hall. You scanned the space and watched other healers aiding patients in their beds. You made your way down the aisle. You stopped at Lyra’s bed, wishing to possibly talk to her again, but saw she was in a deep sleep. Patients had difficulty sleeping after a few days of taint infection and it led to insomnia. If she was getting sleep, you would not dare disturb it. 

You decided it would be best to spend the rest of the - admittedly late - day in your room as opposed to the laboratory. With Daeron’s dismissal of your idea, it is not like you could pursue any experiment - for the mortua terra plant was the only idea you had come up with in the past few days. 

You were walking down the halls of the castle towards your room when the elf you wished to see the least seemingly appeared out of nowhere, “Make any progress yet?” Aemond’s sultry voice hit your ears, eliciting another wave of annoyance through your body. Out of all the damned halls in this castle, he had to be here?

His words were the exact same that Criston had uttered to you that morning. You began to wonder if this was some sort of coordinated attack. It felt like some sort of ruse to torment you, throw you off of your work so you would fail. You knew they likely wanted to see you fail. Regardless of your studies to cure the taint, they wanted a human to fail. If Criston’s words were to be taken seriously, why should they be bothering to throw you off? You were a human and in their eyes inferior. By that logic, there would be no need to exact such a mockery. 

The events of the day - Criston’s lecture, Daeron’s dismissal, and now Aemond’s taunt - folded over you. You turned to Aemond, dressed in similar attire that you usually see him in with his sword strapped to his side with his hand resting on the hilt like he was constantly prepared for a spontaneous fight. 

You plastered on a pleasant smile to show his tricks would not falter you, “Perhaps I would be making faster progress if some members of your council were not so intent on disturbing my activities, your grace.” 

Aemond moved his hands to connect in front of him as he looked you up and down - a habit he made in the rare times you two conversed. “Disturbing you?” You were further bothered by his response. He dared to pretend he did not know anything. An elf king, older and wiser beyond your years, believed that was a smart play? That you would not understand? 

“Whatever you and Ser Cole are trying to pull will not waver me or drive me off, your grace. I am here to find a cure, something that would greatly benefit both kingdoms.” You retorted. You wanted to find the fastest excuse to leave. Something about Aemond sent you mixed signals. His presence felt dark and foreboding, eliciting fear; however, a part of you could not help but feel lured in. It had to have been an elf characteristic - to be so pleasing. 

“No doubt it would benefit all,” Aemond responded, “I simply wished to receive an update.” You wanted to understand the hidden motive behind his words, for surely there was one. 

The book in your hand felt heavy, but you decided not to inform the elf king you had begun to pursue dark magic paths to a cure, “There is not much to talk about, other than the menial progress one of my experiments made.” 

“One of your experiments?” Aemond questioned. 

You wanted to leave - desperately - so you could continue your research and draft up a few plans for concoctions with the newly discovered plant. If you had solid plans, Daeron would be more likely to pursue that path. 

“I am in the middle of some important research, your grace. Prince Daeron can fill you in. He should be in the laboratory at this time of day,” You bowed to the king, “Good day, your grace.” You dismissed yourself and went back onto your path to your room. The familiar feeling of his eye on your back almost made you drop your book. You held it firm to your chest as you turned right to the hall with your room. 

When you entered your room, you placed the book on your table. Dinner had already been delivered to your room and you saw in the wood-carved chair. Next to your plate, you opened the book and began to reread many of the entries. You flipped to the page of the flower that absorbed so much of your attention. 

It grew in the dark depths of the elf forest, outside the boundaries of the settled kingdom. You leaned back in your chair in thought. Glancing out the window to the garden in front of you, you were overcome with an idea. It was stupid - beyond stupid. Risky, no doubt. 

If you were able to obtain a sample of the flower and brew a potion, that could perhaps persuade Daeron to consider following this course of action. You had permission to conduct your own experiments, technically the gathering of such a plant would fall in line with that. The only issue was the security. You had only just been able to get rid of the constant guards escorting you around the castle. Daeron insisted on it - as he felt it was nothing more than a hindrance when you needed to set about tasks. 

The rules set forth for you had been lax in the past few days, but security around the castle was still tight. It would be difficult for you to sneak out, but the risk seemed worth it. If your experiment was successful, there would be no need to fret over how it was done. 

It was a simple plan. Before the hours of the morning, you would move through the garden and out of the palace grounds. The garden by your window was the medicinal one, and only the healers ever went there. They would all be asleep, as would most of the castle. You closed the book and took a final bite of your dinner. The plan was settled. 

Tomorrow, you will venture into the deep dark woods.

Chapter 7: The Dark Woods Deep Preview

A low growl hummed through the stagnant air. A silhouette, large and imposing, moved towards you slowly. You could smell it before you could properly see it. The odour, foul like rotting meat, permeated the surrounding area. Your free hand reached up to block your nose, but by then it was too late. Bent down and hunkered, a beast of large proportions - larger than any you had ever seen - dragged its heavy claw-ridden paws across the exposed dirt of the forest floor. The upsticking roots of trees were met and marked with deep cuts. 

The beast's eyes were glowing yellow, flickering like the freed fireflies around you.

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[melkyt]

Aromantic experience I have been thinking about in a purely fictional sense, dialing up them dynamics

Luffy choses Law, he takes an effort and works to show his love in every moment, every gesture as he never experienced 'love' in a way that Sanji or Robin would describe it, he cares for Law, wants him to be happy, healthy and never leave, its almost an obsessive desire but love? He doesn't know. It doesnt feel that different then the effort he puts in to loving his friends but its different because Law loves him in a romantic sense, and Luffy does not mind, even wants to feel that way with Law even if sometimes he doesn't get it when people talk what love feels like to them

He likes whatever he does have with Law.

So here comes the angst.

There is a devil fruit user, sleeping beauty style that can make people fall into a deep sleep. That only a 'loves kiss' would wake them.

Luffy tries, he doesnt hesitate to kiss Law after he finds him, sleeping as if nothing ever went wrong, so peaceful, beautiful the way the light of the moon shines over damp hair.

Yet, it doesn't work. Luffy's love does not fit the rules of magic, not in how the devil fruit owner, who defines love, sees it. So it doesn't work

Luffy going on a rampage, determined to beat the shit out of the one who did this. If the cure or whatever doesnt work he will beat on the bastard until it does. They are weak, but they make skin contact and pull him into the dream world where they gave Law a deal

Luffy is not about listen to them, and tries to activate Haki but he is away from his body and it doesn't quite work. It will take him time to think different.

The DF owner threatens to kill Law if he doesn't stop. Who is faster? Luffy in breaking out of the dream or them killing Law.

Luffy stops, and they propose a deal. One where Luffy swaps places with Law, falls asleep and tests the theory if anyone loves him in a way that the DF user defines love, a black and white view that maybe nobody would fit, even those who understand the fluttering all encompassing emotion that love brings.

Luffy agrees, even if nobody loves him in that way, it doesnt matter. He will break out on force of will. There are people who care for him and trying to prove or define it in anyway is stupid, people are different and they all feel different things. The DF user has no fcking clue what it means to care or love!

So he says yes.

Falling into a deep sleep.

Law waking up to find debris all around them, broken trees, torn up ground and Luffy's unconcious body, his skin ashen. Law who has his own doubts about being loved holding him close, not sure what to do. Knowing that if Luffy does not wake up from his kiss will break a part of him. He thinks he feels for Luffy but what if that is a lie his brain conjured up because it is attracted to the sun?

He squeezes his eyes shut. Trying to focus his thoughts. He opens them again to study Luffy's face, he would call him an idiot and to just kiss him. So Law does, and Luffy stirs, with a bright grin. Content in the knowledge that Law loves him, and maybe their relationship is different from others, he will fight for the man he chose to love.

[sempermoi]

Rant about generative AI in education and in general under the cut because I'm worried and frustrated and I needed to write it out in a small essay:

So, context: I am a teacher in Belgium, Flanders. I am now teaching English (as a second language), but have also taught history and Dutch (as a native language). All in secondary education, ages 12-16.

More and more I see educational experts endorse ai being used in education and of course the most used tools are the free, generative ones. Today, one of the colleagues responsible for the IT of my school went to an educational lecture where they once again vouched for the use of ai.

Now their keyword is that it should always be used in a responsible manner, but the issue is... can it be?

1. Environmentally speaking, ai has been a nightmare. Not only does it have an alarming impact on emission levels, but also on the toxic waste that's left behind. Not to mention the scarcity of GPUs caused by the surge of ai in the past few years. Even sources that would vouch for ai have raised concerns about the impact it has on our collective health. sources: here, here and here

2. Then there's the issue with what the tools are trained on and this in multiple ways:

Many of the free tools that the public uses is trained on content available across the internet. However, it is at this point common knowledge (I'd hope) that most creators of the original content (writers, artists, other creative content creators, researchers, etc.) were never asked for permission and so it has all been stolen. Many social media platforms will often allow ai training on them without explicitly telling the user-base or will push it as the default setting and make it difficult for their user-base to opt out. Deviantart, for example, lost much of its reputation when it implemented such a policy. It had to backtrack in 2022 afterwards because of the overwhelming backlash. The problem is then that since the content has been ripped from their context and no longer made by a human, many governments therefore can no longer see it as copyrighted. Which, yes, luckily also means that ai users are legally often not allowed to pass off ai as 'their own creation'. Sources: here, here

Then there's the working of generative ai in general. As said before, it simply rips words or image parts from their original, nuanced context and then mesh it together without the user being able to accurately trace back where the info is coming from. A tool like ChatGPT is not a search engine, yet many people use it that way without realising it is not the same thing at all. More on the working of generative ai in detail. Because of how it works, it means there is always a chance for things to be biased and/or inaccurate. If a tool has been trained on social media sources (which ChatGPT for example is) then its responses can easily be skewed to the demographic it's been observing. Bias is an issue is most sources when doing research, but if you have the original source you also have the context of the source. Ai makes it that the original context is no longer clear to the user and so bias can be overlooked and go unnoticed much easier. Source: here

3. Something my colleague mentioned they said in the lecture is that ai tools can be used to help the learning of the students.

Let me start off by saying that I can understand why there is an appeal to ai when you do not know much about the issues I have already mentioned. I am very aware it is probably too late to fully stop the wave of ai tools being published.

There are certain uses to types of ai that can indeed help with accessibility. Such as text-to-voice or the other way around for people with disabilities (let's hope the voice was ethically begotten).

But many of the other uses mentioned in the lecture I have concerns with. They are to do with recognising learning, studying and wellbeing patterns of students. Not only do I not think it is really possible to data-fy the complexity of each and every single student you would have as they are still actively developing as a young person, this also poses privacy risks in case the data is ever compromised. Not to mention that ai is often still faulty and, as it is not a person, will often still make mistakes when faced with how unpredictable a human brain can be. We do not all follow predictable patterns.

The lecture stated that ai tools could help with neurodivergency 'issues'. Obviously I do not speak for others and this next part is purely personal opinion, but I do think it important to nuance this: as someone with auDHD, no ai-tool has been able to help me with my executive dysfunction in the long-term. At first, there is the novelty of the app or tool and I am very motivated. They are often in the form of over-elaborate to-do lists with scheduled alarms. And then the issue arises: the ai tries to train itself on my presented routine... except I don't have one. There is no routine to train itself on, because that is my very problem I am struggling with. Very quickly it always becomes clear that the ai doesn't understand this the way a human mind would. A professionally trained in psychology/therapy human mind. And all I was ever left with was the feeling of even more frustration.

In my opinion, what would help way more than any ai tool would be the funding of mental health care and making it that going to a therapist or psychiatrist or coach is covered by health care the way I only have to pay 5 euros to my doctor while my health care provider pays the rest. (In Belgium) This would make mental health care much more accessible and would have a greater impact than faulty ai tools.

4. It was also said that ai could help students with creative assignments and preparing for spoken interactions both in their native language as well as in the learning of a new one.

I wholeheartedly disagree. Creativity in its essence is about the person creating something from their own mind and putting the effort in to translate those ideas into their medium of choice. Stick figures on lined course paper are more creative than letting a tool like Midjourney generate an image based on stolen content. How are we teaching students to be creative when we allow them to not put a thought in what they want to say and let an ai do it for them?

And since many of these tools are also faulty and biased in their content, how could they accurately replace conversations with real people? Ai cannot fully understand the complexities of language and all the nuances of the contexts around it. Body language, word choice, tone, volume, regional differences, etc.

And as a language teacher, I can truly say there is nothing more frustrating than wanting to assess the writing level of my students, giving them a writing assignment where they need to express their opinion and write it in two tiny paragraphs... and getting an ai response back. Before anyone comes to me saying that my students may simply be very good at English. Indeed, but my current students are not. They are precious, but their English skills are very flawed. It is very easy to see when they wrote it or ChatGPT. It is not only frustrating to not being able to trust part of your students' honesty and knowing they learned nothing from the assignment cause you can't give any feedback; it is almost offensive that they think I wouldn't notice it.

5. Apparently, it was mentioned in the lecture that in schools where ai is banned currently, students are fearful that their jobs would be taken away by ai and that in schools where ai was allowed that students had much more positive interactions with technology.

First off, I was not able to see the source and data that this statement was based on. However, I personally cannot shake the feeling there's a data bias in there. Of course students will feel more positively towards ai if they're not told about all the concerns around it.

Secondly, the fact that in the lecture it was (reportedly) framed that being scared your job would disappear because of ai, was untrue is... infuriating. Because it already is becoming a reality. Let's not forget what partially caused the SAG-AFTRA strike in 2023. Corporations see an easy (read: cheap) way to get marketable content by using ai at the cost of the creative professionals. Unregulated ai use by businesses causing the loss of jobs for real-life humans, is very much a threat. Dismissing this is basically lying to young students.

6. My conclusion:

I am frustrated. It's clamoured that we, as teachers, should educate more about ai and it's responsible use. However, at the same time the many concerns and issues around most of the accessible ai tools are swept under the rug and not actively talked about.

I find the constant surging rise of generative ai everywhere very concerning and I can only hope that more people will start seeing it too.

Thank you for reading.

[goodwomanbadlady]

So Aziraphale is in Heaven, Crowley is unspecified. The humans from S1 have vague fuzzies, Most of the humans from S2 have the same. But we know that Nina at least and possibly Maggie as well (not convinced one way or another on Maggie's humanity) have at least some more distinct memories of the situations they experienced. I'm basing that on Nina being aware of the party behavior of the shopkeepers. The control doesn't seem as strong with her.

Anyway, if Nina (& Maggie?) have more distinct memories of what went down, I'm wondering about their current existential crisis. Every story I've read so far seems to gloss over their acceptance of the situation with their personalities, but I'm guessing they wouldn't be the first humans (by a long shot) that our beings have revealed themselves to and left aware (at least in part) of their true natures and what that would mean for humanity. Confirmation of a Christian eternity, but oh wait, heaven's not great and hell is exactly as described. So eternal torment is a certainty in one form or another. Not to mention, bringing another element to the predestination vs. free will debate we already see in Aziraphale and Crowley.

It would be interesting to see a theological debate or simply a discourse on how (if it were real and as depicted in GO) that particular brand of knowledge would affect a living human, or two. I've seen a few where Nina does freak out but I'm curious that if neither Aziraphale or Crowley is there to answer any questions, what would that mental tornado look like? If Maggie does remember more clearly, like I believe Nina does, what would that do to their relationship? There are obviously multiple scenario possibilities. I've just not seen that being explored. Possibly because Aziraphale and Crowley are already written to be so human like that we are still playing with that, but there are some really interesting deep dives to be done with some other characters.

This just came to me, but the possibility of Mr. Brown (an admittedly very apt name) finding out he has a pash on an actual angel. And then a later reveal of Crowley's true nature. His reactions would be well worth the read.

If these fics are out there and I'm just not aware of them, please please comment fic recs!

[dr-spectre]

while i originally didn't think much about s2's story

after seeing your posts about hypno callie i am 100% with ya

fact that it gets misinterpreted so much is agh. painful

Im glad that I was able to inspire you to change your mind!!! I used to not think much of Splatoon 2's story, too, until the autism in my brain whispered, "Callie Cuttlefish...."

(I'm about to get ranty in this post, so get ready.... if you wanna move along and don't wanna see someone get upset over a squid woman then by all means do so!)

I think the main reasons as to why the story of Splatoon 2 gets misinterpreted a lot is because in media circles, people will use the words "brainwashing" and "hypnosis" interchangeably and they genuinely don't know what hypnosis is actually like. Nintendo and the Splatoon devs probably don't know either. Like I don't think in Splatoon 2's rushed development cycle they bothered to look up the definition of hypnosis and they just made up the Hypnoshades to make Callie "evil" in a quick and easy way because "ooooo hypnosis is mind control/brainwashing ooo" WHICH IS FALSE!!!! VERY VERY FALSE!!!!!

Splatoon 2 was most likely rushed and it impacted Callie's storyline. You can clearly see what kind of story Splatoon 2 was going for from the concept art and Squid Sisters Stories prequel series. The tale of two cousins drifting apart and Callie growing resentment in her heart....

While we SORTA got that in the final game, Callie's arc got muffled due to a lack of understanding of what hypnosis actually is and media out of Splatoon continuing to use "brainwashing" as a cheap and lazy way to explain things which most likely had a strong influence in Splatoon 2's development, despite a lot of evidence proving that's not what happened to Callie... and there's not much we can do about it... ugh.

They also hid a lot of important story details behind optional content and social media posts. The sunken scrolls explaining Callie's growing mental issues, the relationship chart which disproves that Callie was kidnapped, etc, etc....

Also people tend to take Marie's perspective very objectively because we follow her as Agent 4. So when she says that Callie was "squidnapped," people believe it. When Marie says Callie was "brainwashed" in the rematch fight, people believe it. Including inkipedia and people who analyse splatoon.... the people who seek out objective information take the overthinking and worried Marie with a lack of knowledge as the well of truth.

Slight tangent but, you know what's kinda funny to me? Inkipedia wants to be very objective on Splatoon yeah? Well on Callie's main page it says, "Callie went to the octarians willingly," yet another parts of the site, it says, "she was kidnapped." Hmm... and of course, them flip-flopping the words "hypnosis" and "brainwashing" despite those words being OBJECTIVELY TWO SEPARATE THINGS THAT CANNOT BE USED INTERCHANGEABLY!!! But they use brainwashing more because Nintendo NoA used it.... oh well, tangent aside...

That's why so many people fuck up and you know what? I don't REALLYYYY blame the common fan over this. I dont! It would be unfair of me to get mad at someone who doesn't know any better because Splatoon 2 did an AWFUL job at properly fleshing out Callie!!!! When people hear what I have to say and either agree or respectfully disagree but still get my points, i get happy, and im glad more people are looking into Callie in a different light! She was treated like TRASHHHH for 7 fucking years!!!

Im only mad at certain parts of a certain wiki, and people who go over the timeline and make 5 hour videos and claim that Callie was KIDNAPPED DESPITE THERE BEING A FREELY AVAILABLE FUCKING RELATIONSHIP CHART THAT LITERALLY DISPROVES IT!!! BUT NO!!! YOU JUST HADDDDD TO READ A SINGLE INKIPEDIA ARTCLE AND YOU DIDNT EVEN BOTHER TO LOOK ANYWHERE ELSE!!!!! Putting in so much effort yet these loud voices in the community drop the fucking ball on Callie because she's silly.... ugh...

If I see another person in 2024 that says that Callie was kidnapped.... I swear to FUCKINGGGGGG god bro....

WHY DO NINTENDO PUSH THAT SHIT THEMSELVES?!?!? WHY DO THEY SAY CALLIE WAS KIDNAPPED?!?! WHY DO YOU WANT THE OCTARIANS TO BE SO FUCKING EVIL AND UNREDEEMABLE?!?!?! YOU GUYS MADE OCTO EXPANSION FOR FUCK SAKE!!! ITS SO ANNOYING!!! IM STILL NOT OVER THIS!!

UGHHHH!!!! When will it end.... I'm gonna keep repeating this stuff until I DIE it seems!!!

I dont wanna seem like I'm above anyone btw. I dont want to be like that. I'm just... really autistic about this sort of shit and I get very very picky about people's word choices and stuff when it comes to this.

I just want a character I love to be treated better... okay? That's all... it is getting better which I'm VERY happy about but... the loudest voices in the community, the people who analyse stuff and make timeline videos and analytical videos, still say the same bullshit since 2017 and I'm getting tired....

[underfaller]

in his house of mind, dead cipher waits dreaming

Chapter 3: Frilliam II

Rating: T

Synopsis:

You really think you won that day/You packed your bags and sailed away/You think you left your past behind/But trust me/I'm still on your mind

A year has passed since Weirdmaggedon and the Pines family, victorious in the end, are happier than ever. Stan and Ford are adventuring at sea, making up for lost time. Dipper and Mabel are now freshmen and are ready to take on high school-- geometry, bullies, (student eating?) clubs, and all! However, things take a turn for the worst when Dipper and Mabel receive of horrific message from Ford:

Bill is back.

“C'mon Fordsy, let me outta here! I promise I won't undo my stitches again!” 

Bill struggles against the leather straps that bind him to a cold, metal table. It rattles as he purposely shakes it back and forth. Stanford shoots him a glare. 

“Will you just shut up for once?” He snaps. 

“Make me!” Bill yells back. 

Stanford presses his lips tightly, but doesn’t continue the conversation. He knows that there isn’t any point in engaging with Bill. The demon only sweet talks you when he wants something and vexes you when he doesn’t. Ford instead continues writing in his new journal, documenting his failures to bring Stanley back. After their fight, Ford immediately turned the Stan-o-War II back to the only place he could possibly go-- The Mystery Shack. The lab is exactly the same as it was 30 years ago save for its equipment’s slightly worn appearance and a framed photo of the kids on the desk. Stanford’s heart twists. 

What would they say if they knew their Grunkle was like this? 

“I have to admit though, I'm impressed!” Bill continues. “You really went for the kill back there. Talk about cold-blooded!”

Memories flash in Ford’s mind. Stanley on the bridge floor, eerily still, in a pool of his own blood. Perhaps one of the scariest moments in Stanford’s life was that of momentarily realization that he’d accidentally killed his own brother-- Even more frightening than when he was sucked into the interdimensional portal. Thankfully, Stanford is a skilled medic and was able to successfully resuscitate Stanley. Still as Stanford’s eyes stray toward Stanley’s chest, still wrapped in white bandages, he feels gnawing guilt eating away at him. 

It all happened so fast. Bill came at me. I didn't mean to actually shoot him. 

Please forgive me, Stanley. If you are still there. 

No, he can’t think like that. Doubt leads to stagnation. Stanford cannot afford to doubt. He will not stagnate in the pursuit of his brother. Bill may have taken over his body temporarily, but Stanley is still there. Somewhere. He has to be. 

He has to be. 

“I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised. It's not like you actually respect the guy anyway,” Bill chimes. “Sure, you love your brother and all. Blah, blah, blah! But you don't actually respect him. Deep down, you still see him as a fumbling idiot. As you should, you're the superior twin after all!”

Stanford narrows his eyes. 

“Your manipulation isn’t going to work this time.”

“Tch, it’s not manipulation. It’s the truth,” Bill sneers. “Like how you loved me too. Before, you know, all the drama . Only difference was you actually respected me too.” 

Stanford raises an eyebrow. 

“Seriously? I always knew you were the jealous type but getting jealous of my brother? That’s a bit low, even for you Cipher.” 

Bill growls. 

“Whatever. I don't have to convince you of the truth. You'll do that on your own eventually. I just planted the seed in your little noggin,” Bill huffs. “All that knowledge bestowed upon you and this is the thanks I get. Seriously, is this how you treat all your partners?” 

“We were never partners.” 

“Denial is a river in Egypt-,” Bill momentarily pauses his pettiness, craning his neck and watching as Ford surrounds the table with candles. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m going into Stan’s mind and forcibly removing you myself.” 

Bill laughs.

“Seriously, you’re actually gonna meet me in the mindscape?” Bill’s lips curl into a dark grin. “Wow, a date with Stanford Pines. This is gonna be interesting.”

Stanford rolls his eyes before pulling out a lighter from his pocket. As he lights the candles, his heart pounds in his ears. The last time Ford spoke to Bill face to face ended with Bill frying him alive for an equation to end the world. Stanford sits crossed legged on the floor, ignoring the demon’s giggles and closes his eyes. He tries to calm his mind but Stanford realizes that he’s slightly trembling. 

He’s wary of his former muse but he’ll do anything for Stanley Pines. After all, he did the same for Stanford by bringing him out of the portal. Stanford can’t help but notice the obvious irony in all this. It’d be amusing if this were a novel he was reading instead of his own life. 

However, it wasn’t and that made it terrifying. 

Stanford takes a deep breath.

“Videntus omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem,” Stanford calls. “Magnum opus. Habeas corpus! Inceptus Nolanus overratus! Magister mentium! Magister mentium! MAGISTER MENTIUM!” Bill smirks. 

“See you real soon.”

There’s a blinding flash of blue light. It envelops the entire lab and as it does, Stanford can feel himself floating up and up until he’s out of his  body. Stanford stands up, a ghost outside the physical world, and examines himself, still sitting on the lab floor, illuminated by candlelight. It's uncanny. He shivers slightly. Despite having done it dozens of times, Stanford will never get used to this out of body experience. He swims across the air before floating right into his brother’s skull. There is another flash of light and when Ford opens his eyes, he finds himself in a completely blank space with no signs of Stanley or Bill in sight. 

Stanford conjures his weapon of choice- an interdimensional gun- into existence, pointing it as he delves further and further into Stanley’s mindscape. 

“Show yourself, Cipher!” He calls. 

The air crackles with electricity as a shrill laughter fills the space. 

“Well, well, well! It’s actually Sixer in the flesh! Welcome to my humble abode!” Ford whips around to see his ex muse. His messy, blonde hair rests over his leery face, covering his right eye. Bill bows, tipping his top hat. “Look who missed me,” Bill simpers, adjusting his bowtie. He leans on his slender, black cane, a leery smile etched on his pretty face. “Ya’know I just had to change my form for the special occasion. Remember it? You used to absolutely adore seeing me like this.”

Ford points his gun at Bill, ignoring the redness in his ears. He knows that Bill Cipher is just messing with him-- similar to how cats play with their food before they disembowel it-- but even Stanford is slightly caught off guard by Bill’s sudden change of physique. “I’m not here to play games, Bill. Get out of here before I-”

Swoosh.  

In a flash, Bill is in front of Ford, grabbing the gun and pressing its barrel against his chest with wide eyes and an even wider. Ford flinches, trying to pull away, but Bill pulls him closer so that Ford can feel Cipher’s hot breath against his face. 

“C’mon, Ford! You’ve already tried that; it’s not gonna work. What’s the saying again, doing the same thing expecting different results makes you insane?” Bill croons. His hand snakes towards Ford's fingers. They're cold, like talons scraping against his skin. “Unless you’re actually going insane, then I’ll happily accept you by my side with open arms!”

“We're in the mindscape now. Stanley's mindscape. It'll be different blasting you out of here,” Ford hisses. 

Bill tilts his head.

“Do you really think you can bring him back? Face it, you're a scientist, not a necromancer.”

“He’s not dead. You may have taken over his mind but he’s still here somewhere.” 

He has to be. 

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting hypothesis,” Bill says. “It’s out of your control though. Take a look around! What’s done is done!”

If this truly was Stanley's mindscape, where is everything? His memories, his thoughts, the very mental image of himself? It should all be here and yet, it is not. Even Stanford, the master of rationalizing all things wrong when it suits him, cannot delude himself of that stark fact. Bill notices Ford's hesitation and chuckles. 

“But….If you make a deal with me, perhaps we can actually bring him back!” Bill adds. “We'll keep him around like a house pet. How's that sound?” 

Ford eyes blaze, clenching his fingers over the gun. 

“How dare--You isosceles prick!” 

Ford pulls the trigger. The shot rings in the empty space as the ray blasts through Bill’s suit, creating a giant hole in his chest. Ford watches as the flesh and tendons twist and wiggles, returning to their original state. The only piece of Bill that doesn’t reform is his white dress suit, leaving his chest bare as Bill clicks his tongue in annoyance.  

“Now look at what you did,” Bill says. He grabs Ford, pushing him to the ground as he straddles him with his long legs. Ford struggles wildly but Bill quickly overpowers him. He leans into the man’s ear. 

“Let me break it down for you, IQ. Your brother and I are one now. My mind is his. I’m in control here and you, Stanford, are in enemy territory. Do you know what happens to little six-fingered freaks that get into places where they shouldn’t be?” 

Bill raises his hand. 

“They go SPLAT!” 

Bill strikes Ford and the world goes black. Stanford gasps, ears ringing as he opens his eyes. He falls back onto the lab floor. The candles are blown out. Ford stumbles to his feet, making his way towards the table. Stanley is unconscious but Bill is certainly still there, his ugly smile still etched on his brother's sleeping face. Ford slams his fist against the metal surface. 

“GODDAMMIT!” He yells. Stanford paces back and forth, muttering and cursing. He's seeing red, adrenaline and anger racing in his veins. 

What now, smart guy?

Stanford is supposed to be a genius! If he couldn’t even bring his brother back, what the hell was he good for? Stanford grits his teeth, grabbing his pen and documenting the trial in his journal before he loses his temper once more and throws the book against the wall. He slumps to the ground, head in hands. That stupid triangle. He was toying with him. Why, why, why was it that after everything, that demon still had power over him. Ford shakes his head. This is going nowhere.

Stanley. I’m sorry. I’m trying. 

After a few minutes, Ford calms himself. He takes a deep breath, counting to ten over and over like he did when he was a child angry at his father for scolding Stanley. Then, Ford picks himself and his journal up and locks the lab door behind him. 

Stanford needs help.

Ford makes his way up the dark stairs before pressing the vending machine from behind and stepping out into the quiet Mystery Shack. All the tourists have gone to their motels or RVs for the night. As moonlight wafts through dirty windows, Soos sweeps the floors of the empty gift shop, whistling. When he sees Stanford, he pauses, waving slightly. 

“Hey dude. Any luck on getting Mr. Pines back?”

Stanford shakes his head. 

“Not yet, Soos.”

Disappointment flashes in the young man's eyes as he frowns. Soos sighs, propping his broom against the counter, taking off his fez and playing with the worn tassel. 

“He's not actually dead, is he?”

There's sadness in Soos’s voice, as if he's expecting the worst answer despite desperately hoping for the opposite. Stanford once again feels crawling shame for his recent failures. He doesn’t know Soos very well but Stanley often spoke of his former employee as his son. Soos no doubt sees Stanley as a de facto father figure in return. It's probably why Soos was more than willing to let the Pines stay at the Mystery Shack for the time being. Stanford clears his throat. 

“Of course not. You know Stanley. It's gonna take more than that yellow bastard to kill him.”

His words make Soos brighten up just a little. He laughs. 

“Yeah man. If Bill tries to kill him, Mr. Pines would probably punch him to smithereens-- again!”

There’s so much enthusiasm and hope in Soos’s voice-- it makes Ford grin just slightly. 

Their conversation is interrupted by a light in the hallway being switched on. Melody leans in the doorway, still in her pajamas, a worried expression of her face as her hand rests over her very pregnant belly. 

“Soos, there's gnomes in the trash again! Do you know where the broom is?”

Soos jumps up, grabbing the broom. 

“I'll handle it!” Soos says. “You can go back to bed.”

Melody tilts her head, placing her hands on her hips.  

“Just because I'm pregnant, doesn't mean I can't do anything you know,” She replies, teasingly. 

Soos chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I know. You're awesome, Mel but you're doing enough already taking care of Sooslet,” Soos pecks Melody on the check before adjusting his cap. “A few gnomes is nothing compared to what you're doing!” 

Before Melody can protest, Soos is already racing to the kitchen. She shakes her head, but is clearly amused by her husband. She turns toward Ford. 

“Still helping Mr. Pines?”

Stanford nods. 

“Yes. I apologize for having barged in on you two on such short notice.”

Melody shakes her head. 

“No problem. Technically, it’s still your house, is it not? If there's anything we can do to help Mr. Pines, let us know. Soos is very worried about him.”

Stanford nods once more. 

“I know. We'll get him back soon. I promise.”

He says it with conviction but Ford isn't sure if his reassurance is for Melody or for himself.  ~

Lake Gravity Falls is serene at this hour of the night. The air is crisp and cool as opposed to the hot, stiff Oregon summer daylight. Cicadas sing loudly as fireflies float across still waters. Stanford sits on the dock next to Fiddleford. 

“Asking to go fishing in the middle of the night? I have a feeling this isn’t some ol’ rendezvous just to catch up.”

Stanford sighs, fiddling with his fishing pole. He never really liked fishing. Stanford wasn’t a very patient man and fishing was a very patient sport. Fiddleford, on the other hand, absolutely adored it, always begging Ford to join him in their younger years. Stanford scoffs. 

The first time I actually go and it’s for my own gain. 

As Stanford fills his old partner in on the recent turn of events, the old engineer grows silent and serious. Fiddleford scratches his beard. 

“I could always construct another memory erasing gun. You can try that again.”

Ford shakes his head. 

“No more guns, F. I think I've shot my brother enough times.”

Fiddleford nods. He gazes across the lake with a faraway, thoughtful look in his eyes. 

“I want to help but we're dealing with forces outside this realm of reality, on a plane of existence even God doesn't dare step up on.” 

“Not so different from last time.”

Fiddleford scoffs. 

“No, not very different.”

Ford turns towards him. 

“I wouldn’t come to you if I didn’t have anyone else to turn to,” Stanford says, quietly. “You’re the brightest mind I know., F-”

Fiddleford interrupts him. 

“Ya know-- you're the only one that calls me that.”

“F?”

“F, Fiddleford. Everyone I know calls me Old Man Mcgucket ‘cept little Tate of course. I don't even think half this town knows my real name.”

Stanford grimaces, remembering all he put his old roommate through. He reels up his line, abruptly standing up. Fiddleford looks at him, confused. 

“Where are you going?”

“I'm sorry, this was a mistake. I can't drag you back into this. Not after last time-” 

“Oh, sit yer butt down!” 

Stanford is shocked by Fiddleford’s sudden sharpness and quickly sits back down. Fiddleford shakes his head. 

“I’m not telling you this to guilt you.” “Then why?” “You’re so damn impatient! I’m getting to it!” “Ok! Ok! Sorry, F.” 

Fiddleford clears his throat. 

“When we parted ways all those years ago, I was a broken man with a broken mind coming home to a broken family-” 

“You must have despised me.” 

“I did. For a little bit,” Fiddleford admits. “Then I forgot. Then your grandkids helped me remember again and when I remembered you again, I was happy. I never wanted to forget you. I cherished you in my mind, even in my anger.”

Stanford sighs. 

“I'm sorry, Fiddleford. I never meant to hurt you.” He says. “I squandered your life. Your potential. You could've been a billionaire with your computers. You could have still been married to Emma May. You could have had a relationship with your son.” 

“I do have a relationship with Tate, though and I’ve got more money than I know what to do with now.” Fiddleford laughs. “As for Emma May… Well, let's just say things probably would have ended the same with her whether I left for Gravity Falls or not.”

Fiddleford bows his head, smiling softly. 

“I guess what I’m tryna get at is that you keep blaming yourself when you've already been forgiven. The past is past, Ford. You’ve got to put it behind you,”  Fiddleford states. “Apprehension is unnatural for the Great Genius Stanford Pines.” 

Ford shakes his head. 

“It's hard when the past keeps haunting the present.” 

Fiddleford hums. 

“Perhaps, but when it does, you've got people around you to help blow it back to where it belongs.” Fiddleford says. 

“I'm gonna stay by your side. Not like before.”

Fiddleford holds out his hand. Stanford stares at it, utterly bewildered yet grateful that Fiddleford so willingly forgives him despite everything. Still, Ford smiles, shaking his hand. 

“Right back at you, partner.”

Suddenly, Fiddleford lets go and jumps, pointing at the water.

“Look at that!” 

In the darkness, the small shadow in the water seems like a formless blob but as Stanford shines his lantern closer to it, he realizes that it’s an Axolotl, pink with a dreamy smile on its face as it paddles through the water. Fiddleford slaps his knee, laughing. 

“Well I’ll be! It looks like Frilliam. Remember that little guy?”

“How could I forget?”

“Perhaps it's one of his great- great- grandsons. He’s got the same frills, after all, just like your sideburns!” 

Fiddleford bends down and dips his hand into the water. The Axolotl swims tentatively towards Fiddleford’s fingers, looking up at the two men. Its deep eyes glisten as it stares at Ford. For some very odd reason, Ford feels as if its expression is one of familiarity, as if it recognizes the old man. Then, it flicks its tail, leaving as quickly as it came, sending ripples across the starlit lake as the two men sit together in peace. 

Bill Cipher is dreaming. 

He’s out at sea, watching the waves crash against a small boat as the vessel lurches back and forth. He despises it. He’s getting seasick just standing there. 

“Hey Pointdexer! Check this out!” Somewhere in the distance, Stanford is laughing. 

Bill feels a wave of nausea rise in him. That voice-- he hated that voice-- The voice of Stanley Pines. He claws at his own skin, trying to escape this hellscape. Get me out of here. Get me out of here. Get me out of here- 

“Woah buddy! Chill out!” Bill’s eye snaps open. He is in a white space, somehow more empty than his cell. He sees himself waving back at him. 

“Hey Handsome, long time no see,” The other Bill tips his hat. 

Bill checks his own hat. It’s still on his head. Bill narrows his eye. 

“What the- Who are you?” The triangle laughs. 

“I’m you, dummy. Duh!” 

“No, I’m me.” 

“I know you are, but so am I!”

“What?”

The triangle breaks into another fit of giggles before wiping a tear from his eye. Bill crosses his arms, obviously not amused by this other Bill mocking him. He’d dice him into tiny squares if he still had his powers. 

“Lemme explain,” The other Bill states. “You’re the little broken pieces the Axolotl picked out of Stanley’s mind, put into ‘therapy’.”

He pretends to gag before motioning to the empty area around the two demons. 

“...and I am the one that stayed.”

Bill crosses his arms.

“That’s impossible.”

“Aww, where’s your faith, William?” Bill puts his arm around Bill, waving his hand as he explains. “Even the axolotl makes the mistakes, sometimes.” 

Bill leans closer. 

“Mistakes that can work in our favor.”

He steps back, looking smug and shrugging. 

“While you’ve been doing arts and crafts, wallowing in self pity, I’ve been making moves! Moves towards total dimensional annihilation and sweet, sweet revenge!” Bill yells. “So hurry up and get out of timeout and join me; it’s getting boring without the full use of my powers.”

Snap. 

Bill suddenly sits up, awake and still in his dark cell. He looks down at his orange jumpsuit. Was there truly a way to get out of here? Half of him was already out there, having fun and causing chaos-- all he had to do was join him. Slowly, a smile grows on his face. 

Yes, perhaps things were finally changing.

Previous Chapter

[saphiraarts]

It was a long shot at best to have Grim try to teleport this note in front of Diasomnia’s mirror and it be found by the desired recipient. Ren sighed as he sat at the desk writing his note. The door was magically locked so it was all they could do. Jamil was their warden and Ren and Grim the prisoners.

Hornton,

I am sorry for not replying but I kinda need help. I am being held hostage in Scarabia and can’t leave. I am trapped here with Grim and no matter what we do we cannot escape. Please come help if you can. 

Your friend, Ren

He folded up the piece of paper and handed it to Grim, “Okay Hornton wears the Diasomnia uniform. We pass it everytime we enter the mirror chamber. I know you never sent something that far but this is our only chance.” He said. 

“I know I know!” Grim called just as stressed and feeling the pressure that their freedom was on his shoulders. He hoped this worked. He focused his magic and the note vanished with a flash. 

All that was left to do was wait and Ren sighed putting his head in his hands hoping this worked as he felt tears prick his eyes. Even when Riddle went on his rampage, when Leona was trying to kill Ruggie, and Azul stole his dorm he never felt so scared and utterly powerless. He was trapped in a world of mages and magic with nothing. He knew all these spells but that knowledge was worthless. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he began to sob and Grim hopped up on to the desk and patted his arm.

“It will work! When has the mighty Grim’s magic ever failed? I will let you pet my head just this once!” Grim said, attempting to cheer up his friend. 

He needed it too. They had no one here and little way to reach people. Ren reached out a hand and petted his head still sobbing his hair a disheveled mess. 

It was a beautiful winter night with snowfall covering the quiet campus and many of its students gone for winter break. Malleus sighed sadly wondering where Ren had gone. He hadn’t seen his friend much over the break and oddly enough Ramshackle Dorm’s lights had been off. It wasn’t late enough for Ren to have been sleeping but he dismissed it. Perhaps he was busy or didn’t wish to see him. It was fine he was happy to catch fleeting discussions with him in the dead of night. He looked forward to the unpredictability of their interactions. He noticed a folded up piece of paper in front of the mirror with a hastily written: To Hornton on the front. 

“Ren?” He spoke aloud and he knelt down, picking it up and opening the note. He never had notes like this written to him; they had predominantly been letters upon proper stationery. 

He read the contents and his eyes widened as he turned his head sharply to the Scarabia mirror. His free hand tightened and flames erupted from his mouth as black scales rippled over his cheeks. His tail manifested and he held out his hand and his staff emerged from green flames. The flames washed over him and his dorm uniform appeared in place of his school uniform. He walked to the Scarabia mirror and stepped inside the mirror it rippling as it accepted the visitor. 

It was strange not arriving with an invitation but well they made the mistake of harming his friend. The only person outside of Lilia and Silver he could truly be himself around. He walked across the quiet courtyard towards the Scarabia dorm proper. Flames trailed behind him leaving behind charred imprints of his boots. It was a massive palace styled after Scalding Sands architecture and he marched up the steps. He left cracks in the marble as he approached the door. He lifted his hand, his flame like magic wrapping around his hand licking his fingers as the massive doors slammed open his magic wrapping around it for a moment. He hadn’t intended to use that much force and he stepped in not entirely caring about the disturbance or damage. Students who were still up cleaning jumped some letting out yelps, and scrambled up with terrified expressions. 

“I would like to speak with your Housewarden,” Malleus said as he still had the note in his hand. 

One of the boys meekly nodded and ran off down a hallway and the others fled the common room leaving Malleus alone. He stood still but his tail lashed behind him showing his anger. His expression showed he was not pleased. After a few minutes Viper appeared before him. 

“Housewarden Malleus,” Jamil greeted his shock evident as he quickly regained composure and bowed to the prince. “For what reason do we welcome you at this late hour?” 

Jamil was paler than normal and his eyes showed signs of fear in the presence of the fae prince. 

Malleus held up the note and said, “I received the most troubling news, Viper. According to this it seems you and your housewarden have kidnapped Ramshackle Dorm’s prefect and its only student. I demand their immediate release.” 

Jamil’s eyes narrowed at the note and he said, “My deepest apologies my houseward-” 

“I said to release them not to feed me excuses,” Malleus cut him off with a tap of his staff leaving a crack in the floor. 

Green flames rippled over his staff as a silent warning to Jamil to not play games. Jamil stepped back and he heard footsteps running up the stairs and that prevented any chance of him escaping this. Lilia the Vice Housewarden, Silver, and Sebek all entered the common room. 

“Malleus what are you doing?” Lilia asked. 

“I’ll go bring them at once,” Jamil said and he stepped away.

“Sebek, Silver go with him,” Malleus said. 

“YES MY LIEGE!” Sebek declared and Silver gave a bow and the pair followed after Jamil. 

Malleus floated the note over to Lilia who took it and read it over.  His eyes widened as he looked to Malleus and folded the note gently drawing his wand. His hand glowed as magic washed over the note. After a few minutes a group of footsteps approached the common room filling the silence and Malleus felt relief was over him. Ren with Grim on his shoulders was escorted with Silver and Sebek at his sides both with their wands out prepared. 

“Let’s return to Diasomnia,” Malleus said and he looked to Ren who gave him an affirmative nod with a look of relief and unable to believe this was real.

Ren approached and went to Malleus’ side and Ren was shaking, relieved that his plan worked. Tears rolled and he wrapped his arms around Malleus crying into his chest. 

“Thank you…” Ren sobbed. 

“Our SAVIOR MREOW!” Grim sobbed and nuzzled Malleus’ cheek. 

Malleus blinked surprised at the sudden affections but he smiled happy his friend was well. Sebek tensed about to speak but Lilia floated the note over for the pair to read. He had changed the name Ren wrote to Malleus so it didn’t set Sebek off. Both read it over. 

“UTTERLY OUTRAGEOUS!” Sebek called, whipping around to Jamil raising his wand at him. “YOU DESPICABLE HUMAN! HOW DARE YOU KIDNAP OUR LIEGE’S FRIEND!” 

“Sebek,” Silver said, who grabbed his arm and lowered it. “Not yet.” 

Jamil’s eyes widened as his plan was now falling apart now that Malleus knew and were his enemies. 

Malleus pulled Ren close to him and he said, “Let’s go. This will not go unpunished, Viper.” His eyes narrowed at Jamil. 

Green flames wrapped around him, Ren, and Grim and they vanished and Lilia looked to Jamil. He took them to Diasomnia and would ensure they were fed and given a warm bed and room after all they went through. 

“You who make others suffer for your own gain are truly some of the worst kind of people in the world. It’s laughable you think you can claw your way out of being a servant through underhanded means. You are lucky our prince has given you the grace period of tonight,” Lilia said with a smirk crossing his lips. “It’ll be fun putting a greedy kid in his place who thinks he can take over the world.”

“You made an enemy you shouldn’t have,” Silver said simply as he walked with Sebek towards the door and out down the steps. 

“OUR LIEGE WILL ENSURE YOU PUNISHMENT IS SWIFT!” Sebek declared and Silver sighed. 

Silver wished Sebek had different volume settings and he yawned. “DON’T YOU DARE SLEEP IN ENEMY TERRITORY SILVER!” 

Lilia turned and waved, “See you tomorrow!” He purred as he walked down after his son and student to leave Scarbia leaving Jamil looking horrified at what just transpired as he felt his world crumbling. Everything he had built was falling apart now.  

[solemnv0id]

Monsterverse au where almost everything is the same except Godzilla can just become a guy whenever he feels like it

some rambles about the au under cut

ok hai idk what sparked in my brain to come up with this idea but I just think it would be very funny to see how a guy who fucks up cities on the regular would deal with being in a city and trying to figure out how the fuck society works

in this au, whenever he either turns back into Godzilla or goes into guy mode (which is the term I’ve decided for when referring to him changing to his human form), a massive cloud of mist forms around him. So while people don’t know that this guy in particular is Godzilla, they do know that if a cloud of mist suddenly appears and you didn’t see Godzilla anywhere beforehand, it’s time to panic.

There’s usually 2 main reasons why he turns into a person

One is boredom. There’s a shocking lack of things for the king of the monsters to do when there’s no monsters to beat up, he’s not tired, and is fully fed so has decided to spend some of his free time figuring what the hell these humans are getting up to these days

Two is quick maneuvering. It generally throws other monsters way off guard when the guy they’re fighting just vanishes in a cloud of mist.

also for funsies here’s some facts about goji in this au because it’s funny

1) Very good at picking up languages,,,verbally. His ass canNOT read.

2) Doesnt understand the point of paper money and credit cards. Only thing he somewhat understands is coins because “at least they’re nice and shiny”

3) In this version of KOTM, when he was getting final wars’d by Ghidorah he briefly went into guy mode in order to get out of there but couldn’t stay like it for long because yknow he was about to explode

4) Sleeps in loads of different spots bc who knew there’s so many more places to sleep when you’re not the size of a wonder of the world, and like what people gonna do? Move him?

5) Pretty much all his prior knowledge of humanity before deciding that exploring cities is cool is from eavesdropping the humans that were in that weird Atlantis place in KOTM and still remembers how to speak their language, only problem is that that culture and language has been dead for several thousand years so it’s not super helpful these days.

6) Thinks straws are a top 10 human invention

7) Chilled in Japan for a bit before 2014 happened and was given the name Tamaki which is what he uses to introduce himself since he didn’t know for a while that people called him Godzilla and even if he knew, telling people your name is Godzilla or Gojira makes them look at you funny

8) He can still use his atomic breath in guy mode but it’s usually by accident, like he sneezes a bit to hard and lasers a bit of a building by accident

9) For some reason is always surprised when people guess his age because they usually guess like,,, late 30s, early 40s and not several hundred thousand years old for some reason (his ass has no clue how long human life spans are due to both his lack of knowledge on them and the fact his perception of time is kinda fucked, he thinks they’re at least 1000 years)

10) Knows about Monarch but just generally views them as annoying bastards that don’t leave him alone (except Serizawa, he thinks about that one moment a lot). Also Monarch knows about the fact he can go guy mode but they haven’t been able to identify which guy he becomes.

11) Can still breathe underwater in guy mode (he still has his gills on his neck but you can’t see them bc of his hair) and will sometimes chill in the ocean whenever he decides that humanity has pissed him off for whatever reason

12) Will never deny that he’s Godzilla, he might not admit he is but if someone asks he won’t say that he isn’t, he just might indirectly say yes

[pertenebris-adastra]

*spoilers*

How do you move on from Ep2 of Lessons in Chemistry

I don’t think I am mentally strong enough to keep watching. I legitimately can’t stop crying. Like the tears just won’t stop and it’s lowkey worrisome.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

putting my prediction on record now that the coming decade is going to see the rise of viral-marketed fancy at-home water filtration systems, driving and driven by a drastic reduction in the quality of U.S. tap water (given that we are in a 'replacement era' where our current infrastructure is reaching the end of its lifespan--but isn't being replaced). also guessing that by the 2030s access to drinkable tap water will be a mainstream class issue, with low-income & unstably housed people increasingly forced to rely on expensive bottled water when they can't afford the up-front cost of at-home filtration--and with this being portrayed in media as a "moral failing" and short-sighted "choice," rather than a basic failure of our political & economic systems. really hope i'm just being alarmist, but plenty of this already happens in other countries, and the U.S. is in a state of decline, so. here's praying this post ages into irrelevance. timestamped April 2023