#also I don't like families breaking :(

[basil--and--sage]

*somewhere in Erebor*

Dori (in the process of tailoring Thorin a new coat): There you go. How do you feel?

Thorin: Like I said a dozen times, it is fine! I am late for court!

Dori: Fine is not good enough. Do you feel bonita?

Thorin: Do I- what?

Dori (through his teeth, a vein protruding on his forehead): Do. you. or. do. you. not. feel. bonita?

Thorin:

Thorin (starting to sweat): ... Come to think of it, I do indeed feel bonita.

Dori (delighted): Wonderful!

[triglycercule]

nightmare viewing the murder time three as little toys but more in like a little spoiled kid kinda way. because it would be funny and if you take into the account that he was like 6 before getting corrupted and do some mental loopholes it would be even funnier. like these are his dolls (killer dust and horror) and this is their barbie dreamhouse (his castle). they all have to stay in one room because nightmare needs to keep his toys in a toy box. the toys only ever come out when he wants to play but oh damn it they keep on breaking out!! silly toys,,, and then he locks them into the room again.

nightmare serves them food with plastic tea cups and plastic plates and there is no food. there is no tea. they have to imagine the food because dolls can't literally eat. there are food containers and stuff in the house but its all just a bunch of empty boxes. horror starts tweaking out after he scavenges the kitchen and finds a cereal box and milk carton that have NOTHING in it (why keep empty boxes?????)

they have to go where he wants them to go. nightmare gets to dress them up in whatever he wants because theyre his dolls they can wear anything he wants. it gets incredibly embarrassing when the trio is forced to wear pink pretty dresses and fight like that. or they have to go around the castle doing stupid fucking roleplays and it gets weird because theyre being forced to reenact a bullying scene and nightmare's giving them the death stare if they don't get it right (is this projection. this must be some form of coping mechanism dust theorizes)

and then you know nightmare's not exactly the best toy owner so he loses a few of his dolls here and there. maybe they get destroyed when he was playing a bit too rough with them! (killer dies in battle for like the 29th time) but its okay because he can just go back on down to the store (something new) and buy. wait no. steal another doll and then put it back in his dreamhouse and BOOM he has a full set again!! so sweet so cute. his dolls don't have consciousness what are you talking about theyre begging to be let go?? that's all just your imagination. what do you mean you're asking about the several slowly dying bodies with removed arms or legs in his dungeon. oh that's just where the broken but not yet destroyed toys go dw theyre fine its humane

[wonder-worker]

I've been thinking about the tragedy of Elizabeth Woodville living to see the end of her family name.

I don't mean her family with her husband, which lived on through her daughter and grandson. I mean her own.

Her sisters died, one by one, many of them after 1485. When Elizabeth died, only Katherine was left, and she would die before the turn of the century as well.

All her brothers died, too. Lewis died in childhood. John was executed. Anthony was murdered. Lionel died suddenly in the peak of Richard's reign, unable to see his niece become queen. Edward perished at war. Richard died in grieving peace. For all the violence and judgement the family endured, it was "an accident of biology" that ended their line: none of the brothers left heirs, and the Woodville name was extinguished. We know the family was aware of this. We know they mourned it, too:

“Buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”

Elizabeth lived through the deposition and death of her young sons, and lived to see the end of her own family name. It must have been such a haunting loss, on both sides.

[greenerteacups]

thoughts on Ginny and Harry as a couple?

There are a lot of people who find their romance in HBP forced. I don't think it's forced so much as underwritten, and the books don't get the chemistry quite right (though the movies certainly don't, either). There's potential, but they just don't get enough actual scenes of substance (besides Harry thinking she's pretty or feeling jealous of Dean) for a lot of readers to buy that they're not only in love, but deeply enough in love to break up, get back together, and wind up married.

That's not to say I don't see the appeal. There's a very cool scene in Book 5 where Harry's doing a woe-is-me-Chosen-One act, and Ginny effortlessly puts him in his place about it by reminding him that she was possessed by Voldemort at eleven, which is a rare glimpse into her character and also a great synecdoche for their relationship — Ginny is a grounding presence who, like Ron and Hermione, isn't going to be awed by his past adventures because she knew him before they happened. In that respect, Ginny's probably one of the few women Harry could feasibly wind up with, because he only ever seems comfortable around people (let alone girls) who can see past the Chosen-One schtick and treat him like a normo (see: Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, Luna, Hagrid). True to type, he doesn't get interested in Ginny at all until she's ditched her celebrity crush and ceased to view him as an idol, because in his heart of hearts, Harry wants to be a normal boy, and it's stressed over and over that part of what he likes about his relationship with Ginny is how normal it feels. He kind of has a horribly supercharged version the celebrity dating problem: after the Battle of Hogwarts, anyone he meets is going to know him first as Harry Potter, Chosen One, Boy Who Lived, and Actually Fucking Resurrected Messiah of the Wizarding World, which is... I mean, it's possible that there are witches out there who could get over that, but Harry's not an extroverted guy, and I'm not sure how he'd go about finding them. Ginny's the one who's been there since the beginning, doesn't need anything about him or his past explained to her, and actually likes him for who he is.

When you look at it that way, it's not surprising he married his high school girlfriend. She's one of the few people still alive who doesn't see him as a demigod.

[myreia]

✦ D I S C I P L E O F T H E H A N D

Alchemy for potions. Blacksmithing for repairs. Leatherworking and weaving for mending. She is not an artisan, but the basic skills she has picked up over the years have served her well. Self-sufficiency has always been at the forefront of her mind, and she is pleased that she can keep herself afloat when needed. Besides, crafting is relaxing. A hobby or two here and there is good for her mind. —level 90 compendium

[carlottastudios]

Every day I get closer to making an unhinged behemoth of a post listing all of the things about Kaeya and his possible connections to mythology & stuff that I notice but NOBODY ELSE SEEMS TO BRING UP IN THEIR THEORIES

(edit: OMG I reached the tag limit I'm so sorry)

[crimescrimson]

Johnny Cage & Unconditionally Protecting His Family: Nobody, Threatens My Family. | This? This Is For My Family.

[jils-things]

by the lighthouse.

dividers

[crossbackpoke-check]

Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman

part one | part two

[chloecherrysip]

all the pain will change into a memory of when we were amazing (mario & luigi-centric post-movie fic, part 2!)

(Part one can be found here!)

(Thanks again to everyone who read the first part and was so sweet about it! Here's the continuation. This is a shorter interlude with Mario and Luigi's family before we get to the main "meat" of the story AKA Mario and Luigi talking on their own in the third part, coming soon. I hope you enjoy, and I appreciate any thoughts/feedback. I will get this uploaded on AO3 as soon as I can as well, if you'd prefer to read over there.)

+

“Hey-o!” 

Things had been so quiet on their long, long, long trek back home that the sudden noise made Mario stiffen as they shuffled through the door, every nerve on high alert for a breathless few seconds. Luigi, who had practically sleepwalked the last block with his head leaned against Mario’s head, using his brother's hat as a makeshift pillow, started too, mumbling a greeting that barely resembled the English language, waving at the front door before realizing he was turned around and swaying around to face the warm light of the dining room instead. It looked like dinner was already over, dishes and silverware being cleared away.

“Look who finally decided to show up! Brooklyn’s brand-new heroes!” Uncle Arthur raised a nearly empty glass of what looked like wine in laughing celebration. “What, you save the city from a bunch of weird turtle goons one time and you’re too good to share a meal with us regular bums?” 

“They were helping with the cleanup,” Aunt Marie hissed, swatting him hard enough to elicit a yelp. “Where were you out there, huh?” She smiled warmly at Mario and Luigi on her way to the kitchen. “Sorry we couldn’t wait any longer. Gramps and Mia needed to get to bed. But don’t worry, we saved plenty!”

“Probably too busy signing autographs for all the bella signore,” Uncle Tony guffawed. “Hard to blame ‘em! Better enjoy it before they figure out you’re plumbers with no money!”

“Heh, yeah. Caught us fair and square,” Mario said, managing a weak laugh. Luigi let loose a tiny, snorting chuckle too, although whether that was because he was backing Mario up or just blindly mimicking what he heard, too lost in his own sleepy little world, Mario wasn’t sure. They were still holding onto one another, which they’d maintained the entire walk back except in places where it was impossible to proceed in that way (ladders and the like). That way, a repeat of the stairs incident couldn’t happen, and Mario had known exactly when Luigi was getting shaky enough to need a break. He squeezed his brother’s hand as a way to check in. It took a few seconds, but Luigi squeezed back gently, which was a small relief.

“Is that the boys!?” Without any further warning, their mother barreled out of the kitchen like a runaway train. She grabbed them in both arms, her shaking grip tight enough that both brothers wheezed from a sudden lack of air. “Oddio, where have you been? You already vanished on us once! My old heart can’t take much more of this.” 

“You’re not that old, Ma,” Luigi murmured, patting her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Mario said as clearly as he could manage with his face smothered in her hair. “Didn’t mean to make ya worry. Just, uh, lost track of time, that’s all.”

“What happened?” That was Dad, moving slower to catch up with her, his brow creased deep. “Are you all right?”

“Never been better!” Luigi insisted, overly bright. The bone-crushing hug had woken him up a little, but now he was using his I’m definitely lying but maybe if I speak at a much higher volume, no one will be able to tell voice. “We were just, y’know, real busy making sure everyone on the block could still…flush their toilets! Everyone forgets how important that is. Can ya believe it?”

“And we had to make sure our friends got home safely too,” Mario jumped in, rubbing his mom’s back with his free hand as she continued to hold on for dear life. You get temporarily swallowed by a giant, man-eating plant in front of your parents one time… “But we’re definitely not going anywhere for the rest of the night, and Aunt Marie said something about leftover food, if you can forgive us…?”

“Of course, of course.” She finally stepped back, but not before one good, firm pinch of the cheek between her fingers for each of them. “You’ve worked so hard, my brave boys. You must be about ready to turn inside out from hunger already. Sit, sit, I’ll bring it to you—”

“Actually, Ma,” Mario interjected as gingerly as possible. “It’s been a really, really long day. Could we, uh, maybe take the food in our room? I know, I know, you don’t like that, but if anything gets messy, I’ll take care of it, promise—” 

“Ya can’t be serious!” Uncle Tony spoke up all of a sudden, his chair screeching against the floor as he jumped up. “You two still gotta give us the whole rundown of where ya been! Where did that angry, spikey dragon-turtle-guy even come from?”

“And the tiny kid who looked like a big ole mushroom with legs!” Uncle Arthur added.

“What about that giant monkey in the tie?” Aunt Marie piped up, half-laughing in sheer disbelief as she came back into the room. “He could talk! And not just little words, no — if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was hittin’ on me.”

“Look, I get it, I get it,” Mario insisted as good-naturedly as he could manage. He started to inch towards the hallway with Luigi in tow, who he could feel becoming jittery from all the new noise. All he needed was a few good, firm excuses, a clear escape route, and they were home-free. “It was pretty crazy stuff, right? But seriously, we’re dead on our feet as it is—” 

“Then sit down already and take a load off!” Uncle Tony insisted right back. “We’ll make coffee!” 

“Nooooo, no coffee for me. Now!? I-I think I might shake right out of my skin if, “Luigi started to joke, only to squeak when Uncle Tony grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to steer him around anyway.

“C’moooon! A story like this can’t wait,” Uncle Arthur groaned. “This is the wildest thing that’s happened since Gramps’ teeth were eaten by that dog on the subway! Have some pity for your elders and their boring lives.” 

“We’ll tell ya all about it tomorrow, I swear!” Mario said a little louder, desperately trying to sound casual even as the words scraped up his throat. It was too loud, too bright. A new wave of dizziness swam over him; everything was starting to seem more and more like a dream, his vision smearing at the edges. The only thing that still felt solid, real was his hold on Luigi. He stayed focused on it like a lifeline, even as they were jostled around. “And you’ll understand then why we need to sleep for a million years and then some, I swear, ‘cause we, we’ve really gone through the ringer here...”

“Don’t you think you’ll feel better if you just sit down for a minute?” Ma asked, smiling warmly. “Besides, I wanted to know a little more about that princess—”

“Ya gotta eat anyway!” Uncle Arthur downed what was left of his glass in one swig. “Don’t make us beg!” 

“Forget the coffee. We’ll break out the Sangiovese and that’ll loosen you up real good,” Uncle Tony snickered.

Their uncle grabbed at Luigi again, pulling him along harder this time — hard enough that he panicked, his flailing hand struggling for a better grip on Mario’s before they were ripped apart. And that reminded Mario’s fuzzy, exhausted brain of something. A feeling he didn’t know how to describe in words but that cut into him like a knife between his ribs just the same, bone-deep and blindsiding and instantly overwhelming. He thought of—

(pink clouds and faint swirling light and green pipes and weird wind tunnels he could practically swim through and black shadows like soot in the air and lava glowing and Luigi shouting his name, Luigi panicking as he tried to calm him down, Luigi’s hand warm and snug against his because nothing could hurt them if they were together and nothing was going to separate them as long as Mario was strong enough, steady enough to make it that way but then there was a sound like thunder and the pressure grew and grew and grew and grew and GREW AND)

His body acted on its own. With both hands, he wrenched Luigi back towards him a few stumbling steps, out of Uncle Tony’s hands. “No!” He yelled, a hoarse, guttural sound. 

Silence, save for car horns on the street outside.

Clarity came over Mario in a slow, creeping wave, quickly turning into a feeling of horror as he registered the way everyone had frozen in place around him, staring with wide, frightened eyes. Even their parents looked stricken. Luigi’s tired expression had flooded with worry too, but there was a glint of something warmer there as well — understanding. I felt it, his eyes said to Mario, as clear as day. I remembered too.

“I-I’m sorry, but we really, REALLY need to take a rain check, all right?” That was Luigi, breaking the silence, talking way more assertively than he usually ever did at home. Most of the time, the others drowned him out, but now, he had everyone’s undivided attention, insistently pointing with his one free hand that wasn’t still clinging to Mario’s. “We, me and Mario here, are a little loopy, all right? Not thinking straight in the least! It’s been a hard day — a hard couple of days! Three days, in fact! Maybe three days, or two! Heck, I don’t even know what day it is anymore! That’s how out of whack we are! Do ya get it already!?” 

“Easy there, Lu,” Mario whispered. There was so much frantic gesturing going on that Luigi was starting to throw himself off-balance, swaying dangerously. He still felt ashamed, raw inside from the outburst, but Luigi jumping in had lessened it to the point that he could breathe again, at least. His amazing brother really was full of surprises today, it seemed. “But he’s right. I…it’s just been a lot."

Some glances were shared around the table. Surprisingly, it was Uncle Tony who spoke up first. 

“Y’know what? You do look like you’d be shoo-ins for a zombie movie, no makeup needed.” He clapped them lightly on the shoulders one more time and then sat back down with a backwards wave of the hand. “Don’t worry about us. Go on, get out of here.”

“Get plenty of rest,” Aunt Marie said, her smile plainly apologetic. 

“Man, that just gave me deja-vu like nobody’s business,” Uncle Arthur laughed. “Remember when they were tiny, Tony? We couldn’t peel them off each other for anything in the world.” 

“Oh man, do I,” Tony snorted. “Not without them scratching and screeching like stray cats! Might as well have made you two — whaddya call it again? — conjoined twins and saved a couple steps.” 

“There was that one time we were babysitting at the park down the street—” 

Mario didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. “Come on,” a familiar, gruff voice said near his ear, followed by two large arms herding him and Luigi away, their mother following close behind. “Get yourselves into the kitchen already.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Mario couldn’t help but insist once they were there, heels squeaking on the faded linoleum. Several of his stern talking-to’s over the years had started out much like this in the past; speaking up right away and defending himself before the inevitable yelling happened was practically second nature. “I didn’t mean to yell, I swear, it was just—”

“Never mind that,” the older man cut him off. There was something soft in his tone, softer than Mario could remember hearing it before, and that was when he realized that he'd misread the situation entirely. His dad's eyes were dark with concern, not anger. "Now come on. Give me your gloves, and shoes too. Both of you."

Mario and Luigi glanced at each other and then down at themselves in confused unison, dimly registering that yes, they were still wearing all of that, having forgotten to take everything off at the door like they usually did. Some slow shuffling later, and it was gathered in a pile. Their dad plucked their hats off their heads as well (also missed), tucking everything in the sturdy crook of one arm. He used his free hand to ruffle their hair and pat their faces, one after the other.

"You did good out there," he said, "but what matters most is that you're all right. That's always gonna be what matters most to us. I just," he swallowed slowly, thickly, "I want to make sure you both know that."

For one very brittle moment, as his dad held his face in his big, warm palm, Mario genuinely didn't trust himself to not start either laughing or sobbing right then and there — maybe a crazy mixture of both. The feeling passed, thankfully, but he still managed a wobbly smile, a small nod.

“Now go and wash up. Ma will get the food ready.” Sure enough, their mother was already bustling around like a madwoman, plates clattering and half-empty pots simmering again on the stove. “Luigi, you first. Datti una mossa.” 

“Yessir!” Luigi looked back at Mario before going, a tired, reassuring, still slightly worried look that said I’ll see you in a couple of minutes, okay? Mario reflected it back, and their dad walked Luigi out of the room, towards the hallway.

“Just promise me you’ll tell us what happened tomorrow, all right?” Mario's attention returned to his mother, who was finishing stirring some reheated sauce with a little too much shaky speed before coming over to him, smushing his cheeks in both hands. “I don’t care how old you two get. You're still my babies, and babies shouldn't keep secrets from their poor mother."

“I promise, I promise! You’re gonna pop my teeth out, Ma!” Mario half-laughed, gently tugging at her wrists so he could talk more clearly. “Definitely tomorrow, okay? Right now, I…I don’t know if I could tell ya if I tried. It’s just a crazy blur, and I really gotta process it all myself, still. We just need a little time."

“I understand.” She drew him into another hug. Mario couldn’t help but sink into the familiar warmth, clinging to her. He’d been so worried about Luigi that he’d never even considered the idea that he might never see his parents again either. The realization hit harder than he’d anticipated. “Besides, I know I have nothing to worry about when you two are together. You do such a good job of looking after your brother.” 

(Or even worse, what if he’d been able to come home in the end — but alone? What if he’d had to sit his parents down and tell them that Luigi was…) 

There it was again — that sudden, sour feeling of wanting to cry, such a heavy wave inside him that he had to clench his teeth to the point of pain to hold back a gasp.

Stupid, he thought bitterly, almost angrily. What did he even have to be crying about? Once again, he weathered the rush, kept the walls intact by a hair. He closed his eyes and just let himself be held.

“Of course, Ma,” he croaked. “Always.” 

[shrikeseams]

Some days I want to do a survey and analysis of attitudes towards Huan, and the Celegorm-Huan relationship, and whether people have actual hunting/herding/other working dogs (or other animals!) in their lives. Not housepets, or not just housepets. Not livestock, not breeding stock. And not just dogs from working breeds. Dogs with jobs. Dogs who like to do those jobs. Dogs who develop specific working relationships with at least some humans.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Something about this interaction between Harry & Janeway - specifically Janeway but it's notable that Harry's the one listening because I think, say, Chakotay or B'Elanna might push back against the idolization of this 'it was different back in those days' way of thinking.

[3rdbogwitch2theleft]

*watching Resident Alien season 3 undermine and almost completely sideline one of the core friendships that made me fall in love with it*

[introspectivememories]

excerpts from my months old wip "think i'll miss you forever (like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky)"

[hunsa-jars]

Howdy peepers, I've been feeling pretty down lately but I think I'm on the right path to snap out of it!

See yall on monday hopefully

[astro-b-o-y-d]

I see people claiming that 'Oh Bill had loving parents that just went about trying to help him with his mutation, only to do it very badly'. And while I could see that to some degree, I think back to Alex saying his relationship with his family was worse than Stan's relationship with HIS family.

And I add that to the fact that we got a loving lullaby from his mother in the website stuff and very little about his father outside of a name and color and...Hmm.