#and I was like infodumping on him in the front yard and he was like omg

[emmaspolaroid]

too much to liiiive too much to die forrrr

[bumpscosity]

Snails are so Aminal and also they love you

[ms--lobotomy]

So happy you all are liking my Mertarion fics! Here's your food for the day. [Previous] [Next]

Summary: You learn to care for the big funny mermaid in your pool.

Word Count: 1016

Content Warning: Mention of the United States, mentions of eating live fish, infodumping about a topic that i find very interesting,

Image Credit: @squishyowl

The supermarket was crowded this Sunday with a selection of well-dressed denizens of your city. It must be the after-church rush. You felt most underdressed for this trip to the store. The line for the checkout was long, and the man behind you sighed as he checked his phone. The music was blaring loud, and you could hear it through your headphones. The cashier raised an eyebrow at you as she slid the last tray of salmon across the scanner.

"Cookout," you said, taking one of your headphones off of your ear.

The cashier stuck out her lower lip and nodded, sticking the tray in the last of your reusable bags. "Have fun at your cookout," she said. You winced at the total in front of you as you put your card in the card reader. Groceries were expensive already without a giant merman in your pool. It chimed, and you took the card out.

"Have a nice day," said the cashier, and you exited the store and hurried to your car.

...

"You told me you like salmon?" you asked, your lower legs dangling in the cool water. "How do you even get salmon? There's no wild salmon in the state," you said, throwing a cut into the pool.

He took it, putting it in a death roll not unlike an alligator would its prey. His teeth were sharp, his pupils (from what you saw, at least) a straight line on his eye. He splashed saltwater everywhere. You squealed, throwing your forearms in front of your face through the worst of it.

"Mortarion, careful, your stitches..." you muttered before he soon stopped his activity.

"Force of habit..." he said after swallowing his first bite of salmon. He had the fillet in one hand and was grabbing at the deep blue tiles that lined your pool with the other. You noticed him running his fingers along them, and smiled slightly. He took another bite and swallowed. "I would much prefer live fish, but this will do."

You shuddered at the prospect of feeding a live fish to the merman in your pool. Where would you even get one? Typhus spent a lot of time at the beach and you would see him there when you went on your off days, but you weren't going to ask him anytime soon.

Meanwhile, Mortarion pulled himself out of the pool a little bit to look at you. "You do not eat live fish?" he asked, his eyebrows raised and his green eyes widened.

"Oh, absolutely not," you muttered, running a hand along your other forearm.

"Oh," he said, genuinely taken aback. "You are a strange one, for sure."

"It's my entire species, actually..." you trailed off. "Unless, you're kind of weird, I guess? I mean, there's weirdos online who eat raw meat but I doubt they'd eat--"

"None of you eat live fish?" he asks after swallowing another bite of fish.

"No... sorry."

He looked at you incredulously. He moved his hand along the side of the pool, towards your dangling leg. He brushed his finger against its side, and you felt your heart beating in your chest much more palpable than normal. As you inhaled sharply, he retracted his hand, looking away briefly. Blood rushed to your face and you looked towards your plants.

The two of you sat in awkward silence for a moment as he finished his salmon before you caught sight of two orange butterflies in your yard. They flew around each other, tumbling through the air before one of them stopped at the passion vine that adorned the trellis and the other flitted around it.

"Oh!" you shouted, eager to fill the void with light conversation. You pointed at the two little beings by the plant. "Look! Butterflies!"

Mortarion's eyes shot towards your little friends. "That's what they look like," he remarked. "I did not expect their wings to be so... extravagant."

"Oh, I think I forgot to mention that," you said, your face going warm again. "Well, that's a Gulf Fritillary. Some people call it the Passion Butterfly, but my mom always called it the first one. Oh, oh! Can you see the iridescent spots on them? They're a little far..."

He nodded. "They have little black borders around them."

"Oh, you can see those?" you asked, your eyes going wide. "I can only see them when they're really close." You let out a slight chuckle before looking down at him. He was awestruck, to say the least. His eyes were trained on the small bugs. His tail swished in the pool, and the rest of him was as still as a statue.

"I have never seen creatures such as these," he remarked after a little while.

"Well, there's plenty of them to see here, especially this time of year," I said. "You see that plant over there? That's a passion vine, it's a host plant for more than one species of butterfly. The Zebra Longwing actually competes with the Gulf Fritillary for this plant!" The butterflies had been moving along the plant, trailing lower and lower.

Mortarion's eyes were still trained on them. "What's the Zebra Longwing like?" he asked.

"Slightly smaller," you said, shifting slightly at the poolside. Your leg brushed against his hand again. Your eyes widened and you tensed up. He turned around to look at you, and you relaxed. He wasn't here to hurt you.

"Is... is that okay?" he asked, his voice low yet raspy.

You nodded, slowly at first before your movement became more vigorous. "It is," you said, lowering your hand to touch his. His eyes widened before he looked up at you.

"Care to join me in the pool?" he asked. He shut his eyes before opening them, looking around almost in terror.

You looked down at your outfit. Shorts that were neither too long nor too short, and a white tank top with a red design stenciled into it. You got up, and he retracted his hand, still staring at you.

"I would love to," you said. "Just let me get changed real quick."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[zoeyslament]

44. and I’m not talking about a meek small fact. I mean PARAGRAPHS. Im talking infodump. 🔫

/nf

ALRIGHT HERE WE GO! You my friend get to hear the story of the time my family lit a wheelbarrow on fire! (I NEED to tell this story)

Christmas Eve, 2018. My uncle had just set off fireworks. While the rest of the family went inside, he and my dad had to clean up the wrappings to the fireworks. They dumped the smoldering wrappers into my grandfather’s wheelbarrow. My dad told my uncle it was probably not the best idea, but he got ignored.

Bad choice, Uncle Joe.

They went inside. 30 minutes later, my grandparents’ dog started barking his ass off. My mom went to figure out what was happening and…the wheelbarrow was up in flames. My mom yelled for the rest of the family. Me, my grandmother, and my cousin went running down the hall to see it and sure enough, it was on fire! My grandmother was going to call the fire station but my grandfather was like “nope we got this” and drags my dad and uncle to help him.

My grandfather pushed the smoldering wheelbarrow all the way through the snow to the hose on the other side of their HUGE yard, all while my dad yelled at him to keep it going, my uncle skipped along Christmas caroling, and he was wearing pajama pants and bunny slippers.

My grandfather continued to use the half-burned wheelbarrow for 2 years, and now my family and my uncle’s family take turns using it as Christmas decoration for our front lawns.

More of a story than a fact, but there you go!

[sunnysideoflucie]

August 25, 2024

I have such mixed feelings about my parents. Especially my dad.

Though if there's one thing I wanna get from him, it's his ability to infodump about several random topics whenever I ask him stuff. Like yesterday, he explained to me and my siblings how instant coffee is made. And then he was like "I've been waiting for so long for you to ask that!!"

I know that when I get to infodump about things I do know a lot about, it just feels so good. And I do like learning for the sake of it!

Also, I saw a frog earlier in our front yard 😅 or is it a toad? Idk. It's dark and fist-sized.

And also earlier, my parents and I were driving home from a convenience store when, well... a truck collided into a dog. I only heard the collision, and I saw the dog run away. It's still alive! I hope it's alright. But the driver... geez, driving recklessly?! At this time? Anyways, they stopped at the end of the road since it was blocked by a gate (it leads to the city hall).

Good night...

[thisisvoided]

AHHH okayokok so i just saw your casey + raph art and i LOVE their designs?? and i was just wondering if there's any fun lil facts abt them or their story if youve got one 4 them that you wanted to share? bcus i love hearing abt people's diff. interps of them :]

ahhhh thank you so much!! im so glad you liked them, i had a lot of fun designing them :>

also yes, im so glad you asked!!! finally sum1 to infodump to lmao (also stuff abt the rest of the main cast just for funzies. i put it under a cut bcus it got long lol):

raph + his family live in an abandoned train yard on the very outskirts of the city

raph's family consists of his sister, mike, his two brothers, leon and don, and his dad, yoshi

from oldest to youngest: splinter (late 40s), casey (19), april (18), raph (17), leon + mike (15), and don (14)

mike and leon are twins! and spotted turtles. it's hard to tell them apart if you don't know what to look for, or if they're playing a prank on someone

leon has chronic pain in his knee from his mutation

don is mute, he uses tts and sign language to talk. he's also the only one of his siblings with four fingers on each hand

mike owns a drum kit but nobody knows where she got it from. leon asked once, but she just told him not to worry about it (he is, in fact, very worried about it)

don's dream is to "engineer the world's awesome-est automobile ever"

mike is the prankster of all pranksters and nobody is safe from her wrath, not even leon (especially leon tbh)

raph plays violin. splinter taught him

leon can be a real hard-ass when it comes to sticking to the rules, but that's only if mike isn't around

don and mike are both STEM kids with a love for cooking/baking. if you can't find them in their rooms, you'll probably find them in their make-shift lab-slash-kitchen. just...try not to breathe in through your nose too much if you're in there. the smells tend to mix badly

yoshi's eyesight was already really bad when he was a human, but it got worse after he was mutated

don wears glasses, raph has braces, leon has a tooth gap, and mike has two missing front teeth

yoshi taught judo classes while he was in college

the turtles met april when they were out roof-hopping and mike tripped and fell down into an alleyway...and right on top of april. the only saving grace was that april was getting mugged at the time and mike ended up scaring away the mugger

april is thai/african american

yoshi worked as a wildlife veterinarian before he was mutated

april works part-time at her dad's restaurant as a delivery driver and part-time at a local liquor store

mike sometimes visits april at her dad's restaraunt, which april hates because she's afraid someone will notice her and which mike loves because she gets to hang out around tons of people

april and casey actually knew each other when they were kids, but only casey remembers

casey never takes off his mask, even when he's sleeping; at least from what the turtles have seen. mike once joked that it was part of his actual face but none of them can be sure...

the turtles go dumpster diving whenever they visit the city. they also scrounge around in the nearby junkyard whenever it gets a new influx of trash

casey is cuban/native canadian

raph is terrified of insects. don, on the other hand, loves them

casey's duffel bag is filled with tons of essential items along with all of his other stuff. nobody is sure how he fits it all in there, but he somehow manages with room to spare

casey works full-time as a janitor at one of the colleges in the city and does art commissions on the side

the turtles, yoshi, casey and april have game night on friday and movie night on saturday

casey and raph met a year before the main story starts

yes, casey and raph have destroyed, defaced, and defecated on private property and they will do it again

[tr0ubl3d-tr4n53nd3r]

i dont really know much about american girl dolls but i think theyre really cool! do you think you could tell me about your favorite one?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! YES YES YESSSSSSS! IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS AGHHHHHHHHH OMG OMG OMG.

Okay um... I didn't just do that. Fr fr. No I'm cool.

Okay... who do I infodump about? I read Caroline Abbott, cécile Ray, and Marie Grace Gardener's books growing up, but I own Kit and Maryellen.

I think imma go with Kit Kittridge, from 1930's Cincinnati, Ohio

OKAY SO. I NEVER READ ANY BOOKS PAST MEET SO I REALLY DONT KNOW TOO MUCH BUT I WATCHED THE MOVIE SO...

her meet outfit looks like this

"Shes (not) a faking lying blone schemer and her name isn't Kit... ITS MARGRET"

Had to throw a total drama reference in there, but it's true. Her real name is Margaret Mildred Kittridge. She was named after her mom and like... grandma, but like she wasn't her grandma? Idk it's hard to explain. I know what I mean so I guess it works. She got the name Kit because when she was a kid her father sang this song that went like "pack up your troubles in your old kit bag" and kit loved it so she would always say "dad! Sing the Kit song!" And the name stuck. (The song is a bop and I obsessively listened to it last year when I first heard the actual song.)

Idk if you want to listen to it it's there. I did research on it but that's a whole separate thing. Also yes it does use the f slur. It was regarding cigarettes (damn British people)

Okay... storyline (I remember the movie more. I only read the beforever book too so my memory of the actual story is a bit tainted. And because the beforever books are honestly horrible because they cut out legitimately the entire story to make it shorter, I will be referring to the movie.)

So the movie starts out with kit going to her brother Charlie's place of work to turn in a newspaper she wrote herself (he works at the Cincinnati News thingy. Idk I don't read the news.) In the book he is living at home about to leave for uni, and he doesn't go because they are too poor. So this guy is like "hey this is a giant company... we can't take ur newspaper sorry" and she goes home.

When she gets there there are two hobos who need a job for some food and she brings them to her mom so they can get some. Tbh I can't remember their names. One is this like... tall white boy, and the other is a child. He isn't white. He's prolly black but idk. The mom, Margret is hanging out with Judgy socialites and she is nice but the others are not. One of them makes a comment about how it's disgusting how they don't have a place to live (keep her in mind she is important later.) Then her and three other girls go into a treehouse together and take an oath of allegiance to the treehouse club. It's basically about women who did great things like Amelia Earheart. In it is her best friend Ruth-Ann "Ruthie" Smithens, and two other girls. They are sisters and live across the street.

Unfortunately in the middle of the oath the look outside to see the girls mom weeping outside the house, and all of their furniture being moved out. A foreclosure sign was being nailed into their front yard. Both girls ledt to never be seen again. Seriously where did they go? Anyway this didn't really affect our unvothered queen Kit and she decided to write a newspaper article about it for her father to read. (In the book he came home in a car, in the movie he walked. Idk why tbh.) It deeply bothered him and he had a sad demeaner

Nothing really happens for a bit if I remember right, until she goes on a little trip to the store or something and she sees a little dog with a sign that says "name is grace. Can't feed anymore" and she begs her mom to get her. She reluctantly says yes and suddenly a man runs by with a stolen wallet. He has a parrot tattoo. Remember that for later too.

That night her snobby rich uncle came over and raged over the fact they adopted a dog and nothing else really happened. He has more importance in the books I think.

Anyway. Remember that socialite from earlier? Yeah. She becomes homeless. Karma. Margret, who felt they were doing fine invited her to live with them, and she did. She moved in with her son whatsitsface or whatever. Idk he's not #girlpower or whatever. He is girlypop. Defo fr. Anyway in the book he's like "frail" or whatever and kit hates him for it. So not slay kit. Be nice to him (I just rememyhis name was Stirling.)

Anyway her dad comes home from work and is concerned about the fact they moved in and then kit goes to school. There is a bully and Stirling essentially tar and feathered him (kits school outfit ft. Maryellen because this is the only one I took btw)

Anyway so basically they're taking a field trip to the food kitchen to help the less fortunate and kit sees her dad and throws a hissy fit saying she hates her dad or something. In the book he just sold the car and that's what set her off. He went to Chicago or something and she got so mad and typed on the typewriter about how stupid Chicago was and money and how she hated her dad, then scrapped the letter and wrote about how cool the boarders she took in were. Yes boarders. The ones in the book seem lame. It was like a few teachers and a doctor or something idk. In the movie tho, a dancer, a librarian, a magician, then of course Stirling and his mom.

Nothing really happens for a while excepy that those two hobos have been working for them still and Margret gives them the dad's old boots. That's important to know.

Kit goes to the hobo camp with Stirling, Ruthie, and the two hobos and she writes a newspaper about it. She tries to get this one published but fails again.

Then she goes home and her family and all boarders put their values into a box and hid it in the house because Ruthies dad (a rich banker who keeps none of his money in the bank) was robbed. Actually it was robbed by some guy... no someone they know. They had kits dad's shoes. YES JT WAS THE HOBOS. but they wouldn't do that... would they? No... because the culprit has a parrot tattoo and neither had that!!!

So basically they were framed... but by who?

No time to figure it out because the kitties were robbed and their house was foreclosed. They had only a little bit to move out, but until that one of the boarders' cousins moved in. Kit saw that he had a tattoo and investigated his room while they were gone. She found EVERYTHING that was stolen, and chased them down. They found her Ruthie and Stirling and they got into this epic chase. Because they could read hobo they figured out which way the camp was and switched the sign backwards. The hobos knew them, and liked them, so they hid them when the people came (the magician, his cousin, and the librarian oddly enough) and they threatened the hobos. Basically the popo caught them or something and the other hobos were released (oh yeah I forgot to mention the short one ended up being trans omg)

Kit won her family a cash reward because it turned out they were like major criminals, then she wrote a newspaper article, got it published, and got like 3k in modern day money from it. They were saved.

Thanksgiving day came up and it was pretty normal, except now there were boarders. Then the door rings. Kit jumps up thinking it's her dad and it ends up being every single hobo from camp bringing a different kind of hobo food. Also the trans one learned to read thats like a whole sub plot I forgot to mention. She reads in front of the whole group of people and everyone is happy, except for kit. She misses dad. All of a sudden in the isolating quiet of such a loud place she looks outside and sees a figure. HER DAD.

Anyway that was basically it tbh but here are some other outfits I have

[waxingwintersun]

in light of that story abt kris kristofferson tearing toby keith to shreds going around again, i just wanna share some more fun facts abt him bc he’s cool as hell

- he, sinead o’connor, and a number of other artists did a bob dylan tribute concert ten days after sinead ripped up that picture of the pope on snl. ppl HATED her for that at the time, and when she walked onstage, everyone booed FURIOUSLY, and she froze up (later said she thought she would be sick). organizers asked kris to go get her off the stage, and he was like fuck that, so he went out and gave her a side hug and comforted her instead. (“don’t let the bastards get you down,” he said. “i’m not down,” she replied.) after that, sinead performed her song. kris later wrote a song called “sister sinead” about her that quite literally sings her praises.

- he starred in the 1976 version of A Star Is Born, and in some of the promotional photos for the movie, he wore a necklace with the emblem of the United Farm Workers to support farm workers’ rights. there’s also a picture of him with cesar chavez from around that time floating around.

- he came from a military family who pressured him to take a teaching position at west point. when he stuck to his principles and refused, they disowned him.

- oxford graduate and a rhodes scholar

- before he got famous, he tried to get his demo tapes to johnny cash, but they just went on a pile and were ignored. kris decided to get johnny’s attention by landing a helicopter in his front yard. (it worked. kris would not recommend this to anyone else, though.)

- he was in the blade movies and also voiced a character in fallout new vegas

- he once did a duet with miss piggy

- he was like INSANELY hot when he was younger. like, WOOF.

that’s all i got off the top of my head i just like to infodump :)

[stimmy-chloe]

I think I actually infodumped irl for the first time ever today.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin accidentally becomes Legolas/Katniss/Merida… you know the type;

He may be shitty at sword fighting, but Merlin begins to use a traditional bow and arrow and… actually becomes very good at it??

I imagine the first time he does it, it’s a complete fluke.

The five knights, The King, and Merlin are on their way back from yet another (frankly, ridiculous) quest.

They have been, of course, ambushed by a group of bandits, twenty to their six (six plus Merlin, though no one bar Lancelot knows about his magic, so he isn’t counted as a fighter). Though the knights outweigh them in skill, their sheer numbers makes it a… challenging, fight (meaning that they are winning, but far too slowly for their liking, and no one wants to admit it).

Now normally, Merlin hides behind a tree or in a ditch, and performs his spells quietly without being noticed, slowly helping and speeding up the fight. Except this time, the Gang was in the middle of a barren, open field, the bandits had disguised themselves with magic until the moment they attacked, and Merlin was right in the middle of all the action.

Everyone worried for his safety. There was nowhere for him to hide here, so they had to keep an eye on him, lest he get hurt (and Arthur sulked, or kicked off, depending on how badly he was hurt).

With nowhere to hide (and no branches to drop, or roots to trip people with), and one of the knights throwing a glance his way every ten seconds, he couldn’t use his magic.

He was currently on his hands and knees, Leon directly in front of him, Percival to his left, holding off four attackers between them (Merlin would marvel at how impressive that was if he weren’t otherwise preoccupied).

He keeps trying to get to Arthur, crawling between legs and over the groaning, injured bodies of bandits (he made a point to land sharp elbows and harsh knees into the more… sensitive areas), but with everyone moving around so rapidly, and the vicious swinging of swords and axes and maces inches above his head, he kept getting side-tracked and blocked and almost knocked out.

With a frustrated huff, he notices yet another bandit rounding on The King. Said huff turns into a pained gasp when he realises that Arthur hasn’t seen him yet.

The bandit raises his weapon in the air, seconds from bringing it down on Arthur’s back, but Leon is right there, and there are no branches to drop on him, and Arthur still hasn’t noticed!

The noise is too loud, grunts and yells and clashes of metal drowning out any sort of warning yell that Merlin could throw Arthur’s way, and he scrabbles around on the floor desperately; hands raking through sharp grass and over bloodied bodies as he stares in horror at the triumphant smirk on the future-King-killer’s face.

Time seems to slow (no magic, just adrenaline) as Merlin’s hands find purchase on a smooth, curved piece of wood. He picks it up without looking, at first intending to throw whatever it is as hard as he can in the bandits direction, before something (magic, instincts, periphery vision, who knows) tells him to look down.

He obeys, and widens his eyes as he sees the longbow gripped tightly in his right hand, and a stray arrow on the floor next to his left.

Merlin is no expert, only having actually hunted once or twice back home in Ealdor, when he was younger, but that was just enough knowledge for him to know roughly how to notch the arrow and fire. He pulls the two up quickly, a plan formulating in his head:

Step 1) Notch arrow.

Step 2) Close eyes.

Step 3) Magic? Hope?

Step 4) Come up with some sort of lie that explains how he managed to make the shot from sixty yards away, through a crowd.

Thankfully, it would appear that Merlin’s bad luck has given him a rest today; the first three steps go off without a hitch (the fourth will come a little later, when the battle is over), but he doesn’t have time to congratulate himself before he’s thrown into the fray, the bandits now obviously seeing him as some sort of threat.

Arthur finally defeats his own attackers, looking behind him in shock to see his unknown enemy lying on the floor, gurgling up blood and grasping weakly at the arrow through his neck. His head whips to the side, trying to find whoever had made the shot; his bewildered gaze meets Merlin’s for only a second before the servant is dragged to his feet, and promptly punched in the face.

He stumbles back and can just about hear Leon yell something from beside him but he pays it no mind, righting his balance once again and swinging his arm back, before bringing it down harshly on his newest attackers head. The resounding crack echoes over the field as the wood of the longbow splits in two on the bandit’s skull, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.

The fight doesn’t last much longer, each knight taking advantage of their enemies' fatigue, and Merlin using his now broken longbow to whack them in the shins or trip them up when they weren’t paying attention.

He was sad to see it broken, but two of his closest friends literally owned a blacksmith's, and he had easy access to the Castle’s armoury; he could get a hold of another one easily enough, as long as he survived the journey back home.

The battle finally came to a close. Everyone was exhausted, and each of them was sporting more than one hefty bruise, but they were all alive and there were no serious injuries, so they could be grateful for that. After Arthur had counted his men, and generally taken stock of things, he traipsed tiredly over to Merlin, who had abandoned his broken bow in favour of cleaning a still weeping cut on Elyan’s temple.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Merlin.”

The servant ignores him at first, biting his lip in concentration as he carefully wipes the grime away from the wound. It was small, so an infection wouldn’t be too worrying, but it wouldn’t be comfortable and would make the scarring worse, so best to avoid it if at all possible. He hums in satisfaction as he leans back on his heels, Elyan gives him a grateful smile, and Merlin finally throws a glance Arthur’s way, before focusing back on threading the needle in his hands; it would only need two or three stitches, thankfully:

“Hmm. I'm not fond of hunting, but we had to for food back in Ealdor. Except we didn’t have fancy crossbows or hunting dogs, so we had to make do with hand-whittled longbows.”

Arthur nods, frowning slightly:

“Still, if I’d known you were that good, I would’ve demanded you had a bow of your own; that way us lot wouldn’t have to spend so much time making sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Merlin smirked and quirked an eyebrow, but doesn’t look away from Elyan’s stitches, whispering an apology at the man’s wince before he speaks slowly, concentrating:

“Careful Sire, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

Elyan snorts out a laugh, but Merlin tuts and lightly slaps his leg disapprovingly, and he stills again. Arthur rolls his eyes with a huff:

“As if. Hurry up, I want to get moving as soon as possible.”

~

Arthur wasn’t the only one that noticed Merlin’s outstanding shot, and over the course of the next few day’s journey home, he received a multitude of compliments from the other knights. 

Including an hour long excited infodump about the history and use of longbows from Leon, which Merlin eagerly hung onto every word of, a fond smile on his face (Leon was a noble, and had it practically beaten into him to not ramble, so Merlin always did his best not to discourage the man. That, and the fact that it was actually very interesting, and useful, if he were to keep up this charade that he was an expert marksman).

When Merlin finally had a moment alone with Lancelot, a few days after they had gotten back, he burst:

“Please please tell me you know how to use a longbow??”

Lancelot raises his eyebrow from where he was sat on the bed in Merlin’s room. Merlin was staring at him with unconcealed desperation, and the knight chuckled as he answered:

“Why? It’s not like you need any more training, that was a cracking shot.”

Merlin huffed loudly, running his hands through his hair as he looked back at the knight:

“I used magic!! I closed my eyes so no one would see and I guided the arrow with magic! Now everyone thinks I’m some master marksman! This is bad. What if next time I can’t use magic, or what if someone notices that I have my eyes closed when I fire?”

Lancelot clamps a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to stop himself from giggling, but he gives up quickly, bursting into laughter at the younger man’s panic. Said younger man fumes, sputtering as he picks up one of the knight’s discarded boots and throws it at him:

“It’s not funny, Lance! I’m being serious, this is an actual issue!”

Lancelot calms himself, rubbing the mirth from his eyes as he takes a deep breath:

“Ok ok, sorry. Yes, I can teach you to use a longbow properly. Have you ever actually used one before, or was the hunting thing a cover?”

The red fades from Merlin’s face slightly as he realises the other man is intending to help him, his panic lessening:

“Sort of. Yeah, I went hunting with a bow a couple times, but not enough to be that good at it.”

Lancelot sighs fondly and nods his head:

“Well, that’s a start at least. Come on, I’ve not got patrol until after dinner, and Arthur thinks you’re busy helping Gaius, so we’ve got a few hours.”

~

So I imagine that’s how it goes for a while.

After their last big adventure, Arthur was reluctant to head out as a group again, wanting to give everyone time to recuperate and get back into the swing of things.

Merlin’s skills with a bow were bought up constantly by everyone, news had even reached Gwen (who gave him a proud smile and a cute little dance to congratulate him) and Gaius (who raised an eyebrow, and had much better skill than Lancelot at holding in his laughter). 

Gwaine, Elyan, and even Percival were desperate to set up targets and watch him shoot shit (their words), Leon wanted to talk about the specifics of technique and crafting, and Arthur... well. Arthur sounded like he was taking the piss, but there was something else in his tone that Merlin couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

Affection? Pride?

Probably not, probably jealousy and annoyance that Merlin is so effortlessly good at something that Arthur himself was average at at best.

Merlin manages to avoid it for a while, showing his “skills” off, but he and Lancelot are running out of excuses, and Arthur is starting to accuse him of being a fake who got lucky. Normally, things like that didn’t bother Merlin, and technically Arthur wasn’t wrong... he had got lucky, and cheated with magic, but that wasn’t the point. It was nice for Merlin, to be good at something, really good.

He was good at plenty of other things. Magic for starters, though not even Lancelot knew the full extent of his power in that area. But he cooked well (shown by the fact that the knights always scoffed the lot), he was a good physician (shown by the fact that the knights trusted him just as much as Gaius when it came to treating injuries and sickness), and he was a BRILLIANT servant, if he did say so himself.

But he never got any actual praise for that. Merlin hated to think badly of the knights, his friends, but they only complained when Merlin wasn’t there, never praised him when he was. Well, apart from Lancelot. And that had just started a bunch of rumours that they were... uh... boinking. 

(False. Anyone with more than two braincells could see that Sir Lancelot was head over heals in love with the newly-promoted Housekeeper, Guinevere, and that The King’s Manservant had an affinity for certain a blond prat-King.)

ANYWAY

It was nice for Merlin to have a skill that others thought worth complimenting, and with Lancelot monitoring his practice sessions, correcting any mistakes and offering congratulations whenever he did well, he hoped it wouldn’t be too long before he no longer had to come up with excuses.

Luckily, Merlin picked it up very quickly. 

Despite being clumsy by nature (though Lancelot is starting to suspect more and more that it’s all for show), the dark haired servant can consistently hit bullseyes from fifty yards within a month. The further away from the target he got, the less astounding his aim was, but that was to be expected, and another month later he could successfully hit a moving target from seventy feet.

A training session, around three months after he started properly practicing, he finally “gave in” to Gwaine’s begging. Lancelot helped him set up a bunch of targets, and fetched a bag of apples to throw.

Merlin put on quite the show, grinning at the uproarious applause he got from the knights when he hit every single bullseye, and every single thrown target. Thankfully the knowing, proud smiles between the servant and Sir Lancelot went unnoticed, and even Arthur gave him a clap on the back and an impressed nod.

~

The first time Merlin met the knights in the courtyard to find Leon holding a longbow and quiver of arrows out to him, he panicked slightly, but one reassuring smile from Lancelot boosted his confidence, and he took them with a quiet thank you.

(After the fifth time, Arthur huffed, and told him to just keep them. He was the only one that regularly signed them out of the armoury anyway, so it would just be easier if he just took possession of them.)

It settled everyone’s stomachs, knowing that not only did the group have a master marksmen, hiding in the trees and taking out enemies that they didn’t see coming, but that Merlin personally now had more than his frankly horrifying (or... horrifying as far as they were concerned) stealth skills to keep him safe.

And that (a master marksmen in the trees) is exactly what happened. 

In the early days, it involved a lot of bruises; Merlin could fire well, but firing and balancing at the same time? Took some getting used to, and involved a lot of falling out of trees at inopportune times.

The knights, Gwaine and Arthur especially, laughed endlessly at that, but quickly stopped after a particularly tired and irate and bruised Merlin fired an arrow so close by Gwaine’s crotch, that it stuck his trousers fast into the tree just behind him.

At first, it was meant to be just as back-up; Merlin was no knight. He still refused to wear armour, and Arthur didn’t want his manservant to make himself a target... at least that was his excuse.

Really, it was because (as far as Arthur was aware) Merlin had never deliberately killed before. Even now, years into his Kingship, and even longer into his knighthood, Arthur hated killing; it made him sick, and took a lot of practice at compartmentalization before it no longer bothered him as much.

Merlin was his manservant, his (best) friend, the love of his life (secretly). He was not a warrior, he was not meant to kill, he was meant to be protected from that.

But alas, Merlin did not get the memo, and the first patrol he went on with his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, he killed at least five bandits.

After the fight, it was Leon who approached him first, a concerned look on his face despite Merlin’s nonchalant expression as he checked over the string for wear and tear:

“Are you feeling alright, Merlin? You got a few good shots in there, you’re not feeling sick?”

Merlin looked up at the hand on his shoulder and the soft words, a confused look on his face:

“Why would being good make me feel sick?”

Leon tilts his head in sympathy, which just makes Merlin even more confused:

“The man you killed the other month was spur of the moment, protecting your King. But you... you killed a fair few men today, Merlin. I know that can be incredibly difficult at first, I just wanted to check in.”

The others had finally walked over to join them; Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and Arthur looking equally concerned, whilst Lancelot hid his proud smile. Merlin just raised an eyebrow at them:

“You seem to be under the impression that I’ve never killed anyone before?”

Everyone (bar Lancelot) looks taken aback at that, and Arthur frowns whilst Leon drops his hand in shock. The King speaks slowly:

“Merlin, are you telling us you’ve killed people before?”

The manservant clenches his jaw at that and looks back down at his bow, resuming his checking of the string and its knots. He speaks lowly, and the knights can tell it’s not a topic he’s fond of:

“Hmm. It’s a tough world, Sire. I’ve done what I had to, to keep myself and the people I care about safe.”

At his dark reply, conversation stopped, and didn’t resume for the rest of the day as everyone contemplated Merlin’s words.

That is, until he was the first one to successfully catch dinner later that evening. At which he got an incredulous look from Arthur when he made it back to camp with his half of the patrol:

“I thought you despised hunting??”

Merlin didn’t look up from the hares he was skinning, and the rest of the knights tuned in, curious:

“No. I hate hunting for sport; it shows hubris and cruelty. Hunting for food is not only necessary and natural, but humbling, if you do it right and honour every part of the creature.”

Arthur, ever the eloquent one, stared at him blankly, and said, rather dumbly:

“...What?”

Merlin huffed, finally looking up:

“Going after helpless animals on horseback with crossbows and hunting dogs is like giving yourself a huge pat on the back for winning a tournament against an unarmoured, unarmed, unconscious opponent, and then calling yourself strong and brave for daring to fight in the first place. It’s an egotistical act of violence for no other reason than cruelty for the sake of cruelty.-”

The knights looks on him with shock, Percival and Leon at least having the decency to look a little ashamed. Merlin looks back down to the hares, and everyone notices the careful way he cuts at the fur:

“I’ve taken these lives to feed us as a necessity. The meat will be eaten, but that isn’t all. I’ll take the bones home for Gaius, the marrow is useful in a lot of medicine. The fur can be repurposed for winter gloves or socks. The organs and other bits that we won’t eat: I’ll take for the pigs in the farms, or the dogs up at the castle. In using every part of them we are... honouring them, in a way. As a thank-you for their... sacrifice.”

Arthur looks a little dumbfounded. As royalty, he of course had never really considered the waste that comes about with hunting, but Merlin, a farm-boy from a rural village who barely scraped by every winter? Of course he saw a deeper meaning in hunting. He would have to.

Elyan is the first to break the silence:

“You almost sound religious, Merlin.”

Merlin looks up at him, a strained smile on his face. As magic incarnate, he has a particularly strong, temperamental relationship with nature and her creatures, a bond that some might call faith. To be wasteful or cruel in any way hurts him in more ways than one:

“Not really, I just have respect for nature, is all.”

No one mentions the thinly-veiled insult, but everyone creeps closer, wanting to see the way he disassembles the creatures for future reference.

~

It’s been eight months since that first, perfect shot.

Merlin’s skills with a longbow had become a normal, expected part of The Gang’s experiences, but the knights never stopped praising and thanking him when he saved their lives (something that Merlin still hadn’t quite gotten used), and The King had apparently not stopped thinking about it for barely more than a second. 

Yule was approaching quickly: Merlin, Gwen, and the Steward being constantly busy with preparations in the castle, the knights being run off their feet escorting emergency aid to the border villages for the harsh winter, and Arthur himself having every minute of the day taken up with speech writing, invite sending, and his other general King-during-Yule duties.

That however, was all to be expected, and of course did nothing to keep Arthur and Merlin from their annual traditions.

It wasn’t official, it wasn’t even spoken of, but the last evening of Yule, the night before the new year, the two of them always spent together.

The last feast of the year would finish, Arthur would stay to see his guests off, thank the staff for all of their hard work, and finally retire to his chambers, his tired manservant barely a hair’s breadth behind him. They would sit in front of the lit hearth (in comfy chairs that only they used), work their way through a jug or two of wine, exchange small gifts, and fall asleep in front of the fire. Their hands, dangling over the side of their chairs, seem to be creeping closer and closer with each passing year; though have yet to become entangled by morning.

This year was somehow no different, and very different, at the same time.

The King and his Manservant settled in their chairs, tired and already a little more than tipsy from the wine drunk during the feast. Arthur looked up at Merlin, the fond smile dropping from his face when he sees the other man’s features pulled into a contemplative frown:

“What’s on your mind, Merls? I don’t think I’ve seen you this serious since the start of the celebrations.”

Merlin looked up at him suddenly, his eyes wide, but he smiles and shakes his head:

“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking is all.”

Normally, Arthur would raise an eyebrow and let a scathing tease on the state of Merlin’s intelligence fall from his lips, but not tonight. This is the only night of the year that The King allows himself to entertain the idea that perhaps he and Merlin were more than friends, or at least could be. So instead he resumes his smiling, and looks back to the fire, taking another sip of his wine before responding softly:

“What about?”

Merlin hums, copying Arthur’s wine-sipping, before taking a deep breath:

“The future, mostly. You, me, Camelot. Secrets and truths, and when one might turn into the other. Soon, I think... yeah. Soon.”

Arthur huffs slightly in amusement. He knows that Merlin hides a great deal of himself, but he always becomes more cryptic after a few glasses of wine, like he desperately wants to say something and doesn’t have the power to stop himself from hinting at whatever it may be.

He asks his next question good-naturedly, a smile sweetened by wine gracing his face:

“The hell does that mean?”

Merlin lets out a short laugh, looking up at the other man:

“Oh, you know. Thinking about spilling all my deepest darkest secrets to you, at some point soon.”

Arthur snorts, saying, only for the sake of keeping up the charade they’ve built:

“You don’t have any secrets, Merlin. Certainly not any that are deep or dark.”

Once, Arthur would have believed that. Then, when he stopped believing it, he was angry about it, and now? Now, he finds he doesn’t mind so much. He is confident, he has faith, in both himself and in Merlin. He knows that those secrets are there, and Merlin knows that he knows, but that’s ok. Nothing either of them could reveal would tear them apart, at least not for long, so Arthur was happy to wait until Merlin was happy to share.

Merlin chuckled at Arthur’s response, shaking his head slightly before reaching down and picking up a small wrapped parcel that he’d stowed away before the feast:

“Come on, I’m a little nervous about your gift this year, so let’s get it over and done with.”

Arthur nodded, accepting the change in subject, and set his wine down so he could pick up the (much bigger) parcel by his own chair.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. After the first gift-exchange happened, Merlin had put his foot down and made Arthur swear to not go overboard on the expense side of things. Arthur may have been a prince, and now a King, but Merlin was still just a servant/physician; he could hardly afford anything worthy of a King. 

He had a feeling that Arthur might’ve broken his word this year, but where Arthur had likely gone overboard with expense, Merlin had definitely gone overboard with sentimentality.

They swapped parcels, Merlin placing the large, heavy box carefully at his feet as he gestured Arthur to open his first. Arthur got to it, tearing the paper off without a second of hesitation, and Merlin allowed himself to smile fondly at the child-like excitement on the blonde’s face.

Arthur’s brow creased as he dropped the paper to the floor, stroking soft fingers over the worn leather of an old, well-loved book. Merlin took deep, fortifying breaths as Arthur carefully opened the first few pages, butterflies in his stomach as Arthur’s eyes wandered the yellowed paper in curiosity.

The King looked up at him, amused confusion on his face as he asked:

“Is this yours? I didn’t know you could draw, Merlin.”

Merlin gulped, and shook his head as memories of the exquisite sketches filled his mind; detail-perfect renditions of the castle, the town square, waterfalls and knights in action and people that Merlin didn’t recognise (for the most part. Arthur evidently hadn’t gotten to any of the pages with young Uther on them).

“No, not mine. This one requires a little explanation-”

Arthur nodded, carefully closing the book and holding it protectively in his lap as he gave Merlin his undivided attention:

“-I mentioned off-handedly to Leon a few months ago that I thought the lack of... of paintings of the late Queen in the castle was odd.-”

Arthur gulped at the mention of his mother, but nodded with a small smile when Merlin paused:

“-He said that when she passed, The King had everything to do with her moved to the vaults. He couldn’t force himself to destroy any of it, but looking at it, day in and day out, was too painful. We found the keys, with the help of Geoffrey, and went down to have a look, see what we could find. We didn’t tell you about it because we didn’t want to disappoint you, in case we couldn’t find anything.-”

Merlin once again looked a little nervous at this, and reached a hand out towards Arthur. When the man didn’t flinch away (if anything, he leaned into it), he moved to grip his shoulder blade, running his thumb over the exposed skin at the base of The King’s neck.

“-We found... a lot. Old clothes and paintings mainly, some jewellery. But then I found that;-”

He nodded at the book in Arthur’s lap, and tightened his grip on his shoulder. Merlin spoke his next words so quietly that Arthur almost doesn’t hear him, a soft smile on his face:

“-your mother was quite the artist, Arthur. I knew you had to have it.”

Arthur gasped softly, his eyes widening as he looked down at the book:

“You... you think my mother drew these?”

Merlin smiled at him, moving his hand to squeeze Arthur’s wrist slightly, before dropping it entirely:

“Check the back page.”

Arthur took a deep breath before doing what Merlin said, handling the book with even more care than he had before now that he knows who it belonged to. He turned to the very last page, to see an inscription written in beautiful cursive. Merlin recited it aloud, having memorised the words weeks ago:

“My dearest son, my silly sketches are able to hold only a fraction of our Kingdom’s beauty. I know one day that you will see what I see, treasure it just as much, and make it your own. You have my support, forever and always, your loving Mother.”

Arthur bites his lip harshly, lifting the book to press his forehead against the words as he shuts his eyes tightly, though that does nothing to stop the tears. Merlin replaces his hand on The King’s shoulder as the man shakes. He sniffles slightly, putting the book back in his lap, though keeping his hands wrapped around it securely, as he looks to Merlin:

“Merlin, I... I don’t even know what to say. This is... amazing. I... Thank you.”

Merlin smiles, shaking his head slightly:

“Technically, it wasn’t even mine to give, it’s always been yours. But I thought it might make a nice surprise. There’s plenty of other stuff down there, I’ll show you in the morning.”

Arthur nods his head, wiping his tears as he carefully places the book on his side table and gestures to the box at Merlin’s feet. He was itching to scour through the book, dedicating every single line to memory, but whilst Merlin had been nervous about Arthur’s gift, Arthur was buzzing about Merlin’s, and he was desperate to see the man’s reaction.

Merlin huffs out a laugh, but picks the box up, noting once again how heavy it is. He sets about removing the paper, much calmer and more methodical than Arthur had been, with his face pinched in concentration.

He frowns in curiosity as he sets eyes on the wooden box. It had a hinged lid, and a logo that he’s certain he recognises burned like a brand into the corner. He can feel Arthur bouncing in his chair slightly, and looks up at him in amusement, laughing once again when he nods excitedly back down at the box.

He lifts the lid, and takes in a shocked breath.

Inside was a beautifully crafted long bow; the wood smooth and varnished and carved, and a leather quiver. The patterns embossed in the leather and carved in to the metal at the base, match those carved into the wood of the bow, and Merlin traces soft fingers over the intricate swirls, stopping with a teary smile at the Pendragon crest, carved just next to a Merlin bird.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding as he looks up at the excited King:

“Arthur this is beautiful. Gods I almost don’t want to touch it, I feel like it should be on display behind glass.”

Arthur lets out a laugh, obviously pleased with Merlin’s reaction:

“Nope. It will be going with you every time you leave the city, and considering how much trouble we always seem to attract, I have no doubt that it will see a lot of use.”

Merlin laughs, closing the lid carefully and setting the box back on the floor, before launching himself bodily at Arthur. The blonde laughs, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle with no hesitation as the other man mutters endless thank-yous in his ear.

The servant finally pulls back, settling in his own chair again, and the two of them hope that the other puts the flush on their face down to the wine, and nothing else. They look to each other with wide grins on their faces, and Arthur breaks the stare first, taking another gulp of his wine before laughing jovially and speaking:

“Well. Here’s to an amazing year, and hopefully an even better one, starting in a few minutes.”

Merlin nods, lifting his own goblet to tap it against Arthur’s:

“Here’s to the past, that guides us-”

He gestures to the book on Arthur’s table:

“-and the future, that calls to us.”

He gestures to his new bow, and they both finish their wine off, a healthy flush to their cheeks and fond smiles on their faces.

They fall asleep in their respective chairs, the same as every year. 

In the morning, they wake with pounding headaches, a promise of a golden future, and hands intertwined.

~

THE END!!

We love a cutesy/hopeful ending😌

Like always lads, you wanna write it out in full, go for it, credit and tag me✌️

Head over to This List to see what I’m working on next, and cast your vote!

[gallusrostromegalus]

I am absolutely loving the power of friendship/this gun I found, and also all of your trivia lists about it. If you have the time and inclination could we have some facts about uhhhhhh *spins wheel* Rex n’ Weevil?

Rex and Weevil initially met because the two of them have an Infodumping Hobby and onto Quora/Yahoo Answers/r/nostupidquestions and expositing about thier respective special interests, and they got into a fight over who was right about Horseshoe Crab Taxonomy (Rex thought thier closest living relatives were crabs, Weevil thought they were more closely related to insects) and it got so intense they agreed to meet in person and consult an expert on the subject, who informed them that Arachnids like ticks and spiders are the closest living relatives to Horseshoe crabs, also please get out of my yard, this is a family barbeque. They found out they have a mutual interest in Duel Monsters on the bus ride home.

They are in fact, both very allergic to fabric softeners. Rex is allergic to nearly all artificial scents, and Weevil is allergic to fine particulate like microfiber sheets or anything that's been washed in fabric softener, which basically chemically shreds fabrics.

Weevil's given name is 'Wilburforce', probably the one name in existence worse than his chosen one. Rex's name is actually Rex but his last name is Polish and hyphenated for a total of 28 characters so it doesn't even fit in most registration input boxes, so "Raptor" is his fursona/Tournament handle.

Rex's favorite insect is the Tree wētā, or New Zealand Giant Cricket, because they have huge mandibles and can be kepts as pets. Weevil's favorite dinosaur is Bambiraptor feinbergi based 100% on it's genus name.

Rex has been attending Paleontological digs since he was a small child because he grew up in the absolute boonies of Wyoming and they couldn't keep him away, and eventually just gave him the job of "Gofer" to fetch things between the dig site and main camp, or go into town when he got older. This means he learned how to ride a Kawasaki POS motorcycle across rough terrain At Speed without dying or breaking a crate of eggs, a skill which landed him an internship on a real dig as part of his high school's study abroad program. He got to go to Egypt on a dig to find a replacement Holotype specimen for Spinosaurus aegyptiacus after the first one was lost in WWII. His most notable adventure there was when one of Grad Students had Late-Night Drunken Pickaxe-Juggling Accident and he and a few other students were sent in all directions to find the nearest town or doctor or anyone with a working Radio and type-O blood. He managed to find a nearby archeological excavation team, and pulled up on the bike at 2 AM and, in very broken Arabic, screamed "I NEED BLOOD!!" Fortunately, one of the ladies at the site spoke English and had type O blood, and agreed to ride back with him to the Dig site for an emergency transfusion while her team called the Medivac in Luxor. Thus, Rex Raptor knows Ishizu Ishtar as the kind of fearless and generous woman that would hop on a motorcylce with some rando at 2AM for an emergency blood donation, and Ishizu knows Rex as the kind of fearless and generous person who would ride a laughably ramshackle motorcycle across some extremely dangerous desert in the middle of the night for someone he barely knew.

Weevil's parents kept sending him to summer camp in hopes he'd learn some Real Social Skills, but he spent pretty much the entire time fucking around in the bushes or at the pond, looking for insects. Last Summer, one of the girls from the Medieval-ish-maybe-vikings? Reenactment camp on the adjoining property accidentally threw a spear at him during Atlatl practice. She apologized profusely and explained that her vision isn't what it used to be as she fixed the hole in his jacket, and that she'd mistaken his hair for the blue target she was supposed to be aiming at- Not that she's blaming him in any way, but what's he doing all the way over here away from the soccer field? Weevil explained that he's not exactly the athletic type and would rather spend his time looking for dragonfly nymphs and waterbeetles here that get his glasses broken catching the ball with his face again. "Oh, you know a lot about bugs?" She asked. Then very patiently listened to him ramble for a good half an hour until he mentioned cochineal bugs, then she perked up. "Cochineal? Like the bugs Carmine Pigment is made from?" "Yeah! There's a farm near my old house that grows them. Not many people know about-" She siezed him about the shoulders, eyes in focus for the first time since they met. "YOU KNOW WHERE TO GET RAW COCHINEAL FOR CARMINE???" She demanded. "Er, yeah? I mean, if you wanted to process it for pigment it's a bitch to do by hand but-" He was suddenly aloft, being bourne back to the Encampment like a baby being stolen by a particularly excitable Fae. "GUYS." she bellowed, slamming him down in front of the main campfire. "THIS IS WEEVIL UNDERWOOD HE KNOWS WHERE TO GET RAW COCHINEAL!!!" And suddenly Weevil found himself beset on all sides by a pack of extremely excited Valkyries, all of whom were hanging off his every word as he explained the process for carmine, and how to raise Tyrian snails too boot. Which is how Weevil Underwood now has a membership with the Society For Creative Anachronism and knows Serenity Wheeler. He has not quite made the connection between her and Yugi's friend from Deulist kingdom.

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

while i’m dying or utter boredom waiting for the day i see sonic 2 do you have any headcanons for tails and knuckles integrating into sonic’s family life

Foxes scream to claim territory. Sonic and Tom find this out when Tails picks out His Spot™ on the couch

Tails brings bugs inside because he thinks they are cool as shit. (yes this includes the Sonic X pillbug) Sonic is very impressed. Tom and Maddie are less impressed. Tails gets very mad when Ozzie eats the bugs. aka none of this ever ends well

They make a compromise by raising monarch butterflies one summer. Tails finds it FASCINATING and is constantly beside the mesh studying them.

Knuckles does not give warnings when he goes out and when he comes home. He will be missing for three months, and then they will walk home to find he's already on the couch and he's stolen every leftover to see what they taste like. the ice cream will ALWAYS be gone

Knuckles will watch sports with them while Tails will not because Tails finds it "weird." Sonic knows how sports work. Knuckles does NOT but that doesn't prevent him from commentating. "Why do they not just start stabbing"

Tails and Maddie infodump at each other and it's great

Knuckles is actually very good at gardening. Only issue with that is sometimes he will plant stuff from other planets in their backyard bc he doesn't realize it doesn't grow on Earth and now they have to kill Audrey II or someshit

the Shed is now Tails's Space™. Knuckles is allowed in there only if he does not break anything and only bc he's barely there anyway.

Tails builds the sickest holiday displays for the front yard you have ever seen

also I know we're talking about Tails and Knux but film!Sonic would fuckin LOVE Purim. He loves the costumes he loves the noisemakers he loves screaming over some guy's name out of disrespect. it's amazing

whenever Tails falls asleep on someone they are legally not allowed to move. This includes Ozzie. Ozzie does not care because Ozzie has never had a care in his life

Maddie has photographic evidence of all of Team Sonic in a cuddle pile. Knuckles says he will kill her if she releases it. She knows he doesn't mean it

[transsexualhamlet]

alright it’s time for as requested part two of rowan reads the original sherlock holmes and compares it to yuumori

i finished a study in scarlet and holy shit was yuumori accurate to it

obviously they changed the case so that... well, moriarty was involved, and they didn’t go into detail on why drebber was an a-grade piece of shit (lol i wasn’t expecting the mormons but it was a great perspective actually doyle went big brain time on that one lmao) 

Hmmm i mean the other main difference is that Watson Is Gayer In The Original but yeah obviously that’s for a reason and the reason is william james moriarty

I have some highlights of “oh my god I need to see yuumori sherlock do this right now because he Absolutely Would” and they’re WILD

So yuh here are your Sherlock Moments

-when watson asks stamford why he might not want to board with sherlock bestie went “he’s a little queer” and watson was basically like “i like that in a man :)” like i am Fully Aware that’s not what queer meant back then but it’s FUNNY alright

-stamford is also like “yeah i mean he’s the kind of guy who would probably perform human experiments on his friends without telling them”

-watson walks into sherlock’s lab like hello new roommate :) and the dude immediately starts SCREAMING

-he’s all I GOT IT I GOT IT I GOT IT LOOK and fucking stabs himself and drips the blood in a container, yeah yeah it makes a reaction and he’s like I AM GOING TO SOLVE ALL CRIMES EVER ACTUALLY wait who are you

-SHERLOCK THEN PROCEEDS TO SEAL UP THE CUT WITH P L A S T E R AND THEN HANDLE POISONOUS CHEMICALS WITH HIS BARE, INJURED HANDS

-watson moves in with this dude and is like “oh wow im really interested in this guy but im Polite so i cannot ask him anything” so he starts snooping around trying to figure out what sherlock does for a living?????? like he couldn’t just fucking ask???? and he’s like wow he has these clients and he kicks me out of the house every time they come over i Really Don’t Want To Think He’s Fucking Them

-obviously, and to watson’s embarassment, he wasn’t. sherlock is a virgin and it is very clear

-watson describes sherlock in the most homoerotic way possible i don’t even know how to describe it bestie goes on about his hands for a full paragraph it’s really gay man

-WATSON IS SO POLITE ABOUT IT ITS ACTUALLY HILARIOUS ISTG HES LIKE I AM KIND OF SERIOUSLY OBSESSED WITH THIS DUDE BUT I COULDN’T POSSIBLY JUST ASK HIM ANYTHING OR LIKE TRY TO GET CLOSER TO HIM I WILL SIMPLY WRITE LISTS ABOUT HIM AND DIAGNOSE HIM WITH AUTISM

-he’s also like “i don’t know i really think hes on drugs i would say he’s on drugs but also he’s like this all the time and he might just be mentally ill” lo and behold it was both

-SHERLOCK GOES TO BED AT TEN PM AND GETS UP AT 4 AM EVERY DAY WITHOUT FAIL

-m o t h e r f u c k e r  d o e s  n o t  k n o w  w h a t  t h e  s o l a r  s y s t e m  i s

-and when asked why he doesn’t know! he’s like my dear watson! i simply cannot be bothered! my brain is filled up with more important things! 

-watson compares him to some fictional detective that edgar allan poe made up and sherlock is like HIM OH MY GOD DO NOT COMPARE ME TO THAT MOTHERFUCKER I AM BETTER THAN THAT

-it’s honestly really cute watson apparently will sit and listen to him play the violin and like request pieces and stuff and yeah sherlock can play those fine

-but most of the time if he picks it up on his own sherlock will just start plucking it with his fucking hands while slouching in a chair and sitting like L Death Note and playing random notes that Vibe 

-watson HATES it

-watson once picks up this paper sherlock has lying around about yknow. deduction and all that and how you find things out and watson is like “this is Bullshit who wrote this what the fuck this is the most unrealistic thing i’ve ever read” and then sherlock is like I Wrote It Shawty and watson is like. um. oh haha i take back everything

-MAN I JUST GOTTA POINT OUT I AM A TEENAGE BOY AND I COULD NOT STAY SERIOUS WHEN DOYLE THOUGHT “EJACULATED” WAS A GOOD WORD TO PUT IN PLACE OF SAID

-lol he was like “ahahahhaa my deductions” and watson was like “but How Did You Do It” and he’s like “I WANT TO LOOK COOL WATSON DONT MAKE ME RUIN IT BY EXPLAINING”

-GHHHHHHHHHH BESTIES when sherlock was Infodumping to watson About Crimes watson was like “oh my god that’s so cool bestie!” like Once and watson described it like “i was complimenting him like he was a girl and i called him beautiful and he blushed” LIKE DUDE THATS GAY

-that one time sherlock yelled “THE PLOT THICKENS” and lestrade was like “i t  w a s  t h i c k  e n o u g h  a l r e a d y”

-dude thinks he’s wrong ONCE and has a mental breakdown in front of the entirety of scotland yard before like five seconds later realizing that he was not, in fact, wrong

I’d say that the main difference between him and yuumori sherlock is that og sherlock has a massive fucking ego and yuumori sherlock is very loud but has no ego at all. Og sherlock will brag about how smart he is to anyone who will fucking listen. Yuumori sherlock will only boast abt his intelligence around Moriarty because he knows they’re both mindfucking

Other than that... I honestly cannot come up with significant differences between them. You can really tell how similar they are especially with the sign of mary episode- dude was just like >:((((( the entire day because watson has a fiance and then he walks in on a dead body and goes now hERES SOME FUN

He’s very accurately and enthusiastically portrayed, as far as I can tell, and I think that’s really epic. I love him. I might kin og sherlock too guys ngl

[despairing-disaster]

ask game for veronika? :] and/or arturo HEH

YES!!! Gonna do em both so dw

Veronika

Favorite thing about them

Veronika does the same thing I have a habit of doing and that's just completely infodumping everything she knows about her interests, regardless of how socially inappropriate it may be, the second she is given an opportunity to. Honestly, she's just really relatable in that regard and considering this is something I'm extremely self-conscious about, it's really comforting to see characters who are kinda like me in that regard.

Least favorite thing about them

Honestly, I got nothing so far. She's one of my faves, what else can I say.

Favorite line

"Watching someone lose their sanity as they desperately claw towards an ever-dwindling hope for survival... It's so much better than any story I could've ever read."

I think it is a quote that's pretty telling, but also made so much better by the voice acting in that moment

brOTP

This might be a weird thing to say, but I actually think her and Ace could make a good duo. He's obviously scared shitless of... most things, but I could see Veronika trying to ease him out of his comfort zone and him getting a little less jumpy over time because of that

OTP

I get the impression you already know the answer to this, lol.

Man, idk what it was, but I feel like I and every other verturo shipper collectively saw her interaction with Arturo in episode 4 and was like "omg... what if they went on movie dates together" and ran with it. I do really feel like they have a nice dynamic though, what with her being so unrelenting in her high energy and Arturo having big tsundere potential.

nOTP

I feel like I've been saying this a lot, but I don't really have any.

Random headcanon

People joke about celebrating holidays too soon, but Veronika literally never puts away her Halloween decorations. You can go to her house in January and there will be giant fuzzy spider animatronics in her front yard wearing scarves and mittens (on all 8 legs, might I add). HOA doesn't find this nearly as entertaining as she does.

Unpopular opinion

I'm pretty sure I got an ask about this previously and I explained it before, but you can't convince me that she's going to kill someone. Or that she's the mastermind. Maybe if she lives past chapter 3, then we can start talking mastermind theories, but outside of that, I seriously don't think she's gonna kill anybody.

Song I associate with them

Living Dead Girl- Rob Zombie

It's literally just a fun Halloween song that kinda gives off Veronika vibes (although I probably could've chosen almost any Rob Zombie song for that)

Favorite picture of them

I honestly just think her expression in this sprite is really cute

Arturo

Favorite thing about them

Arturo is incredibly entertaining just because his ideals are so out-there to me. He was kind of hard to like at first, but honestly, he’s the kind of person I look at and think “I want to study you.”

Least favorite thing about them

His world view honestly makes him difficult to like and impossible to write. Have you tried writing fanfic from his POV? I did and I got about two paragraphs in before I realized what I was working with.

Favorite line

(in response to MonoTV) “On the contrary, I believe that there is a lot wrong with you”

Idk. Arturo really didn’t have a lot of lines that particularly stood out to me other than one particular rant about beautiful people that I’m too lazy to write out.

brOTP

Maybe this is a weird one, but after thinking about it a bit, I could kinda see him being friends with Whit. It’d certainly be amusing to see Whit pestering him, at the very least.

OTP

See response for Veronika.

nOTP

To contrast with Veronika, outside of her, I can’t really see myself shipping him with anyone, so I suppose most Arturo ships would fall into this category for me.

Random headcanon

Outside of work, the way he normally dresses is very extra. He’s not necessarily an expert in haute couture, but his wardrobe is probably worth more than my liver on the black market.

Unpopular opinion

I’d let him do my top surgery. There’s no way he’d do it, but I’d let him.

Song I associate with them

Around the Fur- Deftones

A bit of an odd choice in a way, but I guess the best thing to say is that this song is sort of the inverse of Arturo, being a critique of beauty standards and celebrity culture. I’m still counting it as an association, though.

Favorite picture of them

This is literally my discord pfp right now.

[pilgrimageaesthetic]

replying to this here instead of my main--thanks for the ask!! @hollow-dweller​

i ended up infodumping, oops, so i’ll put everything under the cut.

aubade (the symphony) is my most recent Pilgrimage WIP, having worked on it up until earlier this month. It’s extremely indulgent and leans shamelessly into melodrama territory, but I’m writing it for me, okay? Themes of loss, grief, recovery, the thin horizon line between life and death, and love, love, love. All kinds of love. Every kind of love. Also my cheesy adoration for writing a bunch of seemingly-unrelated characters and tying them all together in the end.

The basic premise is that Diarmuid is a young king, whose parents passed when he was even younger. He meets a man who fascinates him, and to bring him closer he requests this man become his combat instructor. Strangers to lovers, David and Diarmuid have three years of blissful marriage. Then war comes to the kingdom, and the unthinkable happens--for Diarmuid, it’s happening again.

Sick and tired of the universe’s shit, Diarmuid sets out for a remote island that is said to have the power to give him what he seeks, accompanied only by a practitioner of forbidden magic--Geraldus--the prince of the enemy kingdom--Raymond--and a shadowy, faceless angel of death who is always standing by his side--the Mute.

//

Maybe it’s borrowed time, Diarmuid says to Ciaran at daybreak.

They’re sitting on the hillside--the same one Diarmuid had sat with his parents, with Rua and Cathal, with Máire, with David, to watch the sun rise—again and again and again.

Maybe it’s not, Ciaran replies.

A golden apple falls from the branches overhead, lands in the soft grass between them with a gentle thud, and Ciaran reaches for it. Diarmuid takes his hand instead; it’s softer these days, and thinner, with dark, arching veins that remind him of the first time he saw the horizon line of The Mountainland, before light had crested its peaks.

Maybe all of it is, Diarmuid relents.

Ciaran clasps his hand around Diarmuid’s. His grip is strong.

Maybe there’s no such thing.

The sun rises.

//

who ever said angels had to be white? is a short(-ish) story I wrote in a high school creative writing class. An elderly woman named Millicent lives alone in an old farmhouse, until a hot demon boy with the personality of a feral angsty teengager, only ever referred to as “the creature,” falls out of a lightning bolt and crash-lands in her front yard. Slice of life hijinks ensue, and as they bond, Millicent’s loneliness is relieved and the creature learns to behave... or something along those lines. Also, after re-reading the story, they definitely fall in love. What kind of love is pretty ambiguous, but the subtext is there.

The story is complete but still in my WIPs folder, because while high school-me’s writing was severely lacking in pretty much every regard, and my approach to Millicent’s various problems is clumsy and naive, I do genuinely like the core of the story. It just needs to be... completely rewritten, with some major changes. And probably given a completely different ending, because I wasn’t even satisfied with it in 2014. Also, the title--god, that title. It’s a quote from the story and I’m embarrassed just thinking about it.

//

There was an apple orchard on the property, past a few hills behind the house.  Millicent hadn’t tended to it in over a decade, but it still managed to produce fruit every year.  When the trees came into season, the creature began to spend his days among them, and Millicent could watch him from the kitchen window as he ascended to the sky and dove into the branches.  She soon learned to leave windows open, as the creature seemed content to perch on the sills like a four-legged bird, a captured apple trapped between his teeth.  He didn’t seem to mind hunching his shoulders and twisting his neck to fit into the smaller spaces, and it was always a pleasant surprise to find him balanced under the pane of a window as she went through the house about her business.

“Millicent,” he said one day, still chewing the last bite of an apple and twirling the core by the stem, “come down to the apple trees.”

Millicent looked over at him, where he was perched in the broad window at the end of the upstairs hall.  She was replacing the lightbulbs of several sconces that had gone out - she had been putting off the job long enough, and with the days getting shorter, the house needed all the light it could get.

“I’m afraid I’m too old,” she told him, turning back to her work.  “It’s too far a walk for me.”

“I’ll carry you,” he said immediately.  His toes were curled around the edge of the windowsill; despite the effort Millicent had put into fashioning shirts just for him, he still seemed pensive of anything that covered his back.  Today he was wearing a pair of baggy open-backed overalls, and nothing else.

“I’m not a fan of flying,” Millicent said evenly.  “I’d prefer to go by foot.”

“But you just said you won’t walk,” the creature protested.

Millicent smiled softly at the sconce.  “Then I suppose I’ll have to stay here.”

//

thanks for the ask, friend!! it was an interesting trip down memory lane--one of my oldest pieces of writing and one of my newest.

[pilgrimageaesthetic]

replying to this here instead of my main--thanks for the ask! @emkayoh​

hiding my embarrassing infodumps behind a read more, please do not perceive me thanks <3

Ráth Abhainn is a pre-canon Maelrua fic based on the premise that Maelseachlain and Rua knew each other long before the translation of the relic, and in fact grew up together. The meat of the story lies in flashbacks of their child-to-young adulthood from Rua’s POV, but these are interwoven with moments from the present as Rua and Maelseachlain meet again for the first time in years, only a few months or so before the events of the movie. I mean, at least... that’s the plan, anyway.

Their relationship is definitely romantic (among other things), but where Maelseachlain is unbothered by what’s going on between them and all the potential complications it brings, Rua feels eternally stuck in limbo between his feelings for Mael versus what is expected of him, as well as a constant religious crisis (indigenous faith versus Christianity), and is trapped by frustration and grief over chronic health problems--a youthful but inexplicably deteriorating body.

His ultimate solution is to screw off to a distant monastery and try to figure himself out, and eventually, the flashbacks catch up to the present reunion.

//

Rua sees him in the valley, sitting at the river’s edge.

From the back, and with the distance, he looks the same as the day Rua last saw him some twenty-odd years ago. Broad shoulders, an oaklike frame, a crown completely shaved. For the first time in a long time Rua runs a conscious hand over his own head, traces the outline of the tonsure, tries to imagine it framing features he hardly remembers. He had never been one for seeking his own reflection, even before monkhood—not like Brother Diarmuid, who was always crouching by rain puddles to mess with his curls, asking Brother Ciaran to sketch him every few months to see how he had grown. Rua remembers when the young one would seek out his opinion, for some reason. “What do you think, Brother Rua?”

Though he never complained or pressed too hard, Rua knew Diarmuid had never been satisfied with his short, deflective non-answers.

As he descends the hill into the river valley, Rua wonders how long he’s been waiting. Part of him hopes he hasn’t been sitting alone for too long—then part of him, selfishly, thinks maybe it’s good if he was left to anticipate. He never had been very patient, and though some part of Rua knows that could have changed after all this time—an idea that does not settle well with him, that this man may have become nothing more than a stranger he recognizes—

All Rua had known was his impatience. And if Rua had spent two decades in near-isolation to wrestle his own, then this man could bear a short afternoon with his.

//

white trash, usa

I’m a sucker for road trip fics, so this was me indulging that. Diarmuid lives with Unnamed Shitty Father in a trailer park somewhere in the southern US. He mostly keeps to himself, but one day his equally-shitty neighbor Raymond brings home a pitbull. His treatment of his new pet is subpar on the best days--chained up outside all day in the sweltering heat with not nearly enough to drink and the use of corporal punishment being the worst of it. When Diarmuid catches wind that Raymond intends to use the dog in fights, he acts on impulse: he takes the dog and he runs.

Running won’t get him very far, though. He needs a ride. That’s where David comes in--a random stranger who just so happens to be in his front yard tending to his garden when Diarmuid stops in front of his house, barefoot and breathless and carrying a thirty-pound dog in his arms.

I have no idea where this idea came from or where it’s going after that. Also, it felt more natural in the planning phase that Diarmute’s relationship developed into something more brotherly, rather than romantic, but I was open to that changing as I wrote.

Very short snippet from this one, because I haven’t written nearly as much for it.

(The dog’s name is Roxie btw)

//

Diarmuid was reading on his front porch the afternoon his neighbor brought her home.

First he saw the chain slither down, hit the concrete of the driveway when his neighbor opened the back door of his pickup. Then he heard the low, anxious whine. His neighbor shouted once, twice, to get out of the car, leaning heavily on the doorframe. Then he jerked the chain, and a cola-gray pitbull tumbled from the backseat with a broken yelp.

//

thanks so much for asking! it’s fun going through my old wips. i was so ambitious...