#and also the origin of the phrase “the writing's on the wall”

[litany-writes]

belshazzar's feast

[love-and-deepspace-fanfic]

Zayne - Collapse of Multiple Deepspaces

Time to drop another #delulu for Zayne! It’s my first time writing about Zayne and all “thanks” to my friend all my ideas recently stem from *tragedy*.

So yeah sorry Zayne boi, you’re first!

I hope you enjoy this version!

What happens if Zayne and Dawnbreaker meet each other....

Collapse of Multiple Deepspaces

"You are no different from a weakling."

This phrase had echoed relentlessly within Zayne ever since he witnessed his friend transform into a Wanderer right before his very eyes.

If others were given a chance to judge, they would tell Zayne that his hesitation or fear, his inability to act, was entirely natural; no one could stand firm in such a dire circumstance.

To witness someone you know slowly morph into a beast and then have to end their life with your own hands? Who in their right mind would willingly undertake such a horrifying act?

But Zayne knew that the "shadow" that disdainfully uttered those words of criticism through its scornful gaze was no longer a normal person.

******************************************************

How long had it been since Zayne last felt this rush of anticipation, as if he were about to enter a battle?

Before him were blood-red eyes that forced Zayne to instinctively channel energy from his right arm as a defense mechanism.

It was this very power that had been the source of many of his tragedies.

But compared to the shadow standing right in front of him, Zayne could sense that the pain he had endured was nothing compared to the anguish reflected in those judging eyes.

Though shrouded by the night, Zayne recognized the person before him, for the power surrounding that figure was familiar to him. It was the power of ice—the same power he wielded.

In other words, the person before him might be none other than himself.

It was as if he were the embodiment of the Grim Reaper he had always feared.

Zayne also realized that the person in front of him not only possessed his own aura but also harbored an unpredictable emotion he couldn't quite grasp.

This emotion was like a drop of poison, ready to overflow at the slightest disturbance, spreading its lethal intent throughout the icy energy. It was this realization that helped Zayne recognize that the figure before him and he were separate entities. He would never allow himself to be consumed by such murderous intent. He was a doctor, committed to saving lives, not taking them. This was his life's principle and the oath he had sworn to uphold.

Yet, the eerie resemblance between them conjured images of two opposing reflections in a mirror, similar yet different, creating a sense of dual existence. If one of these images were to vanish one day, what would happen to the remaining one? Would it also dissolve, mirroring the original?

**********************************************************

While Zayne was observing the shadow, it was silently scrutinizing Zayne in return.

A weaker version, blessed with a life he craved.

Is this yet another part of the dream? But if it is a dream, then why is she not here?

Could even the fleeting dream of being with her be interrupted and dissipate like this?

Or perhaps…

*********************************************************

As Zayne pondered the bizarre occurrence before him in the dark space, he sensed a shift in the atmosphere between them.

A sudden, piercingly cold wind enveloped him, as if trying to freeze his entire being.

This chilling gust, like a raging beast, seemed determined to devour him whole, mirroring the fury of its creator.

Why had the shadow suddenly become so enraged?

Before Zayne could react, crystalline shards of ice hidden within the snowstorm hurtled toward him, catching him off guard.

The surging murderous intent warned Zayne of imminent danger, compelling him to instinctively unleash his own energy.

A formidable ice wall sprang up, separating Zayne from the lethal ice shards.

Yet, the relentless assault and overwhelming malevolence forced Zayne to retreat.

He panted heavily, striving to regain control over his chaotic emotions and energy. Why had the shadow, just moments ago in a state of observation, suddenly sought to end him?

This remained a mystery to Zayne, causing his hesitation to strike back.

Perhaps the gentle world he had come to know had softened his heart, infusing his decisions with the compassion and magnanimity expected of a doctor. But facing the figure before him, such ideals held no meaning.

Clearly, in this struggle for supremacy, in terms of both resolve and strength, Zayne was losing.

As the blizzard engulfed him, with icy spears closing in from all sides, Zayne realized the figure before him wielded far more power than he had imagined.

Arrows of ice began to pierce through his ice wall, embedding themselves in his body, inflicting excruciating pain and a chilling wind that froze him to the core. The agony was so intense it felt as though a curse had been cast upon him, rendering him immobile and leaving him at the mercy of the storm.

This sensation… why does it feel so familiar…

As Zayne struggled to rise, the shadow approached, revealing a familiar face.

The Grim Reaper… the Grim Reaper Zayne had seen before… the one who had look at him with an implication that he was merely a weakling.

With the same face, the same demeanor, the samepower, Zayne saw his own reflection in those blood-red eyes.

Is this… really himself?

Before Zayne could process his shock, the Grim Reaper moved closer, looking down at him with disdain:

“In the end, you are just a useless fool, incapable of protecting the one thing you were fortunate enough to have.”

These words felt like a curse, tightening Zayne’s heart in agony. He knew what his one lucky possession was, for he had felt this same heartache in his dreams countless times: the pain of not having her by his side…

Could it be…

Before Zayne could grapple with the implication, a shard of ice materialized in the Grim Reaper's hand. Its purpose was clear.

But what stunned Zayne more than the imminent threat was the Grim Reaper’s next words:

“If you are now useless, then it’s my turn to protect her.”

*************************************

“Zayne… Zayne!!”

Zayne jolted awake at the familiar call.

He sat up, gasping for breath, his body drenched in sweat as if he had just escaped a horrifying ordeal.

Fear clung to him, but a gentle touch on his back, mirroring his racing heartbeat, offered solace.

Looking up, Zayne’s eyes met the worried gaze of a familiar, tender face.

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a glow on you and making you appear angelic, which had greatly soothed Zayne as though he were in heaven after wandering in endless darkness.

Unable to contain himself, Zayne pulled your close, seeking your comforting warmth. Only then, with your voice laced with concern, did his surroundings come into focus. The familiar scent of medicine, not the metallic tang of blood, filled the air.

A lingering sense of malevolent energy persisted, a stark reminder of the dream's icy grip. He touched his neck, the phantom pain of the ice shard a chilling echo. Dream or reality?

As he began to lose himself in his thoughts again, a warm touch on his cheek grounded him.

“Are you okay? Why do you keep zoning out? Did you sneak sweets before bed again, making it hard to breathe and sweat so much?”

Like sunlight dispelling the cold, Zayne's heart began to calm. Perhaps it was just exhaustion, a figment of his overworked mind. He clung to this hope, desperate to ease her worry.

Zayne looked at her lovingly, then embraced her once more, yearning to hold onto the warmth only she could provide.

“Thanks for being by my side.”

*****************************

“Zayne, promise me you won’t try to bear everything alone or make decisions by yourself, okay? Always tell me first.”

Seeing her cheerful yet concerned expression, like an old lady fussing over him, made Zayne chuckle—a rare sound for him.

Perhaps the dream was merely a manifestation of his fear, a fear of someday regretting his own "weakness." But what truly defined this weakness? Was it the lack of courage to destroy what could harm her, even if that meant it had once bear the form of a… human?

As Zayne began to drift back into his thoughts, the alarm on her hunter’s watch went off, accompanied by a warning:

“Alert… alert… Wanderer monsters detected… Level A… coordinates X Y… please evacuate residents from the danger zone.”

Both Zayne and you knew what needed to be done in such situations.

As he instructed you on the tasks and cautions for your mission, a rift opened before Zayne, followed by a Wanderer bearing a striking resemblance to…

William…

In an instant, as Zayne stood frozen, the Wanderer lunged, swinging a deadly scythe-like arm at him.

William… is it really you?

Zayne felt his heart stop, memories from that day flooding back.

At Mount Eternal… where the secret he wished to bury lay… where he had once been weak… William… I’m so sorry… turns out, even now… I’m still useless…

“ZAYNEEEEEEE!”

A piercing scream echoed as Zayne snapped back to reality. Before him lay the image of her, shielding him with her body. Blood spurted from her back, splattering across Zayne’s face.

In his arms was the girl he loved, falling.

The blood on his hands was warm…

But this…

Was not the warmth he wanted to feel…

In a heartbeat, everything around Zayne was swallowed by an endless night.

A night filled with murderous intent…

And amidst this darkness lay a path, lined with the bodies of countless fallen.

Zayne didn’t want to tread this path, but it seemed fate had already chosen it for him.

A voice echoed within him, as if from a distant past…

“If the law is a curse… why perfect it… just… destroy it all…”

That's right... destroy everything... only then can I... protect you...

Like a skeleton approaching its tomb, Zayne walked heavily past the rows of piled corpses, heading straight into the endless darkness. And at the end of the road, what Zayne saw was the throne with its many icy blades.

Zayne saw another figure resembling him dressed in an ancient sorcerer's garb... as if he had been sitting there for a long time... just waiting...

Waiting....

"For that daisy..."

As if echoing his heart, the voice of the Grim Reaper opposite him, now replacing the figure holding the staff, sat on the ice throne.

So who was who? He himself no longer knew and no longer cared. Because at this moment, he knew that he and the figures before him had only one thing in common, and that commonality was what all his beings cared about and wanted to have.

You... the daisy we've always sought...

In the quiet night, the cold voice of the Grim Reaper rang out like a warning bell:

"You... are the exception, because only you can have her."

Zayne understood what the Grim Reaper had said.

He sank weakly to the floor, realizing how lucky he was but also how powerless.

"But... you too... are the weakest..."

He knew... he knew... he was weak.

"So... if you can't become strong..."

Before his words could end, Zayne’s chin was grasped, forcing him to face the blood-red eyes right in front of him.

"If you can't do it, then it's my turn. There's no room for the weak."

****************************************

The blaring sirens of rescue vehicles… the screams of the townspeople… only you… seemed to be lying still… in firm arms…

You tried to get up but were held back by those strong arms, preventing any movement.

It seemed that the wound on your back no longer pained you, only a soothing, cool sensation remained.

It looked like Zayne had tended to your injury.

You knew what you had done was dangerous, and you would surely be scolded by him, but you still felt warm inside knowing he was safe….

These past days, seeing his exhaustion, you wanted to do something. But the more you looked at him, the more unsure you were of what to do, as if he was fighting a battle within himself, silently enduring.

That was when you saw him in danger, and you immediately shielded him without a second thought, just to spare him from more pain.

Thankfully… he was unharmed…

As you nestled in Zayne’s embrace, you couldn’t shake off a strange feeling, an unnamed sensation, like you had felt it long ago when you looked into his eyes…. as if… you were seeing a different Zayne…

While lost in thought, Zayne’s hand reached out to touch your cheek.

Fearing he would reprimand you for acting impulsively, you scrambled for excuses in your mind, avoiding his gaze to escape his scolding.

But when you met his eyes, you knew…

Without giving you time to think, the unfamiliar man who resembled Zayne looked at you and smiled, sending a chill through your body.

“Nice to see you again.”

[junos-office-drama]

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[ilovetheriddler]

Ehehe, I loved the Arkham Eddie fic! I would love to see a sequel where they sleep together, and other than that I’d just leave it up to you! The fic is your oyster, anything you’d like and I’ll love it!

:)

Smiley! I'm glad you liked it! It was really enjoyable to write, and I'll happily do a sequel! I hope that you enjoy it!

Fulfilled Desires.

(Arkham Games) Edward Nigma x F!Reader.

Word Count: 1,610.

Contents: 🔞NSFW 18+! Slight degradation, praise, slightly rougher sex.

It had been a few months since you were put in that position where you had to work alongside him, and he had only gotten worse in that time. Originally, he used to harrass and torment batman nonstop with riddles and puzzles, but now he was focusing on you instead! It baffled you. Did you really piss him off that much with what you said back then? You couldn't have, not to the extent of his determination to seemingly trap you.

Why? You weren't sure. Perhaps to humiliate you, mock you, insult you, heck, maybe even just outright kill you! Eddie was incredibly difficult to predict and read sometimes, and it terrified you. But it also turned you a bit on as well, much to your frustration.

Yes, that's right. You'd found yourself somewhat drawn to the grease covered, stained shirt wearing, question mark motif, riddle loving menace himself. As a hero, you'd honestly rather die than admit it outloud.

And now here you were, tangled up in a net that was a part of his latest scheme. You let out a frustrated sigh as you noticed the man of the hour himself walk in, the same smug look he always had on his face.

"Well, it seems you've gotten yourself.... a bit stuck in one of my puzzles again, doesn't it?"

"Oh, shut it, Eddie, I'm getting sick and tired of your puzzles! Can't you just go back to bothering Batman instead?!"

"Unfortunately, I can't, The Caped Crusader is incapable of giving me what I want, what I desire...."

You gave him a somewhat curious yet also still annoyed glance.

"And what exactly is it that you want?"

"Oh, it's very simple.... I want you."

"E-Excuse me?!"

Your eyes went wide as Edward slowly and carefully approached the net you were trapped in, leaning against the wall nearby as he took in your current state. An amused chuckle slipped past his lips before he spoke again.

"You heard me, I want you, and to clarify further as to not confuse you more, I mean sexually, carnally, physically, whatever way you want to phrase it!"

You soaked in his words for a few moments, your thoughts running wild at what they meant. On one hand, you should be appalled by them as a hero, on the other hand, you really wanted to be fucked by the riddler. The latter won out, though, after some thought.

"....Alright then, I'll have sex with you."

"W-wait, that actually worked?! I mean, of course it worked! There's no one who could resist my irresistible charm!"

Edward immediately got started on cutting you out of the net. You watched him closely, observing the way that the sweat dripped down his decently strong forearms. Damn, this became a better and better decision the more you thought about it. The moment the net was loose, he quickly picked you up in his arms, carrying you through his lair and to his rundown bedroom with a quickness that was honestly kind of terrifying.

He set you down on his bed and stood there for a moment, a focused expression present on his face.

"Um... Eddie? What are you doing?"

"Quiet, I'm thinking! I've thought about how this would go several times before, yet I want to make sure that I have it perfect in my mind beforehand!"

You moved back on the bed to lie down, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it to the floor as you did. Eventually, he seemed to work out whatever scenario he had in his head because he removed his button-up question mark shirt, moving up onto the bed, crawling on top of you.

"Now, my dear.... before we start, I want you to tell me something."

"Okay, what?"

"Tell me that I'm better than every one of those so-called heroes that you work alongside, that I'm superior in every conceivable way!"

You sighed a bit in annoyance, rolling your eyes.

"Fine, oh Eddie! You're better than all those stupid heroes. You're so intelligent and superior to them in every way! ....There, Happy?"

"Overjoyed, now... I suppose there's no time to waste, hmm?"

You were about to respond, but your words died in your throat as his lips crashed onto yours, in a rough and messy entanglement. His hands yanked on your hair, causing you to moan as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring the area with a mixture of methodical interest and frenzied passion. After a few seconds, he pulled away, leaving you gasping frantically for air, a small trail of saliva just barely connecting your mouths.

"Look at you, you're already a mess, and I haven't even really done anything yet. It's frankly pathetic!"

You felt your face heat up in humiliation as a needy whine escaped you. As much as you didn't want to admit it, you loved his mocking tone, his harsh words. they turned you on more than they should have. His eyes seemed to light up as he realized how much you enjoyed it.

"Oh, I see. You like being degraded, don't you? Or is it only when it's me degrading you? Hmm?"

"Perhaps I do. Is that a problem?"

"Absolutely not, my dear! It's perfect...."

He slowly kisses your jaw before moving down along your neck and to your shoulder, leaving harsh kisses and occasional bites. You let out a surprised and slightly alarmed yelp as he tore off your shirt. Tossing the remnants of it on the floor.

"Damn it, Eddie! W-would it have killed you to just unbutton it?!"

"It would have taken too long, I don't want to waste my time on pointless efforts! However, I do have to appreciate the fact that you didn't wear a bra today. It saves me a few seconds of time."

His mouth moves down to your chest, one of his hands reaching up and cupping one of your breasts, giving it a firm squeeze as he watched your face to take in your reaction, your cute gasps and sounds. You move your hands to the edge of his filthy tank top, attempting to pull it off him. He graciously lifted his arms to help you as you pulled it over his head and threw it off to wherever it ultimately landed.

You could feel your mouth practically watering as you gazed upon his bare chest. The sight of his unkempt course chest hair causing you to feel more aroused than you hypothetically thought it would. Your eyes drift down to the trail of hair leading into his pants. Of course, since your eyes were already glancing down there, you couldn't help but stare at the already extremely pronounced erection straining against the front of his pants.

"...Are you really that desperate sweetheart? Your mouth is practically watering.... do you really need it that badly?"

"S-shut up! I..I was just distracted..."

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of both your pants and underwear and pulled them off quickly, discarding them in the floor. Firmly grasping your thighs and spreading them apart, licking his lips slightly as he took in the sight of your dripping sex.

After a few moments of staring, he dipped his head down, burying his face in between your legs, eagerly lapping at your arousal. A loud whine escaped you as his tongue dipped inside.

"A-ah... Eddie....."

Your eyes went wide as he added one of his fingers along with his focused efforts of devouring you. Pleased and needy groans occasionally, leaving his lips and sending shivers up your spine.

A desperate and frustrated whine left you as he suddenly stopped and pulled back slightly. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with his desire and lust for you in this moment.

"Aw... Are you unsatisfied? Do you want more?"

"...Y-yes.... please...."

"Good girl.... do you need my cock? Is that what you need so badly?"

You nodded eagerly. If he didn't stop teasing you, then you were going to lose it. He chuckled at your needy and frustrated state as he quickly unbuckled his belts, pulling them from the loops and yanking his pants and boxers down, his hard cock springing up as it was freed from its previously constrained fabric. He wrapped your legs losesly around his waist.

"Now... Riddle me this, What is wet, whiney, and in desperate need of something hard?"

"... Is it me?"

He let out an amused chuckle before harshly thrusting into you.

"That's correct!"

He set a brutal and unforgiving pace that left you breathless and practically overwhelmed with pleasure. The addictive feeling of his cock hammering in and out of you has you already near the edge. He hisses out in between moans.

"F-fuck!...you feel so good, like you were made just for me...."

Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold onto him, a melody of moans, whimpers, and whines escape you, only serving to add to his ego. His breath fans over your ear.

"It feels good, doesn't it? Being so full of my cock? I'm the only one that could make you feel like this, aren't i?!"

You nod frantically as you're pushed over the edge, screaming out his name as you climax, his own following shortly after, with a tight grip on your hips and a broken moan he empties his cum into you, slowly starting to slow down his frantic thrusts as he comes down from the feeling.

He pulled out of you and rolled over to lay next to you, catching his breath as he presses a few surprisingly gentle and sweet kisses to your forehead, holding you close to him.

[sophie-frm-mars]

Black to Techno by Jenn Nkiru

I went to an exhibition 2 days ago about music and there was 20ish minute film being shown in one of the rooms called Black to Techno.

I don't usually like films in galleries, though I do admit it's definitely disproportionately negatively shaped by the gallery viewing experience. I really fucking like this one though. I want to say so much stuff about it, and I also want to say just watch it.

"The industrial machinic decay of Detroit" is a phrase that is now permanently haunting my brain. The use of a story about a machine called Ginny that refused to hurt the storyteller's grandfather. The recording of a NOI street preacher. The deeply unsettling scenes of a man playing dead in a dead mall or the mythology of the underwater undead babies. The fucking autoworkers* spinning vynil in the middle of the plant that goes SO FUCKING HARD.

(*DJs dressed as autoworkers? idk, idc, that's the point)

I wanna watch this a bunch of times and maybe write about it more properly but right now I'll just implore you to watch it

"By using the untapped energy potential of sound we are going to destroy this wall, much the same as certain frequencies shatter glass. Techno is music based in experimentation. It is music for the future of the human race"

[project-sekai-facts]

What is your favorite commissioned song for each character? (Sorry if you've already answered this before)

this has been sitting in my inbox since december because I was waiting for all characters to get their 4th song... so minori has 5 songs now screw waiting it's not massively likely that Ena4 or Toya4 are gonna beat my top comms for them.

Ichika: either the WALL or Ryuusei no Pulse. I keep changing my mind on which one I like more. I don't really have much to say about them because I don't have either ranked particularly high, but Chiirurin is always a good vocalist, her high note in the WALL is really good.

Saki: Stella. This has been my favorite L/n song since I started playing. I'm not entirely sure why, it just really struck a chord with me. I love the lyrics as well. I'm actually listening to it while writing this lol.

Honami: STAGE OF SEKAI. I really love the emotion in this one, especially in the final chorus. The instrumental is really good too and you honestly can feel the emotion in the song through that alone. Regulus is really good too.

Shiho: Voices. It's just a total banger. The guitar solo is probably my favorite part of the song if I'm being honest. I hope they recommission yuyoyuppe at some point.

Minori: Tenshi no Clover. All her songs are really good, so this was hard to pick. I love energetic idol songs like that and it fits Minori really well. Zenshin zenrei MORE MORE JUMP!

Haruka: IF. rip haruka for not getting her 4th song. I'm not massive on any of her comms to be honest. I do like IF and Float Planner, they're just quite low on my ranking comparatively. Also I keep going back and forth on which one I like more but right now it's IF.

Airi: MORE! JUMP! MORE!. This was my original favorite MMJ song. It's super catchy and fun. Even if the lyrics are nothing to do with the event or Airi, I still think it's a great song.

Shizuku: Metamo Re:born. My favorite MMJ song! Really catchy and has a nice beat to it. I like how 'sparkly' it sounds as well.

Kohane: Hitsuji ga Ippiki. The instrumental is so good, and this is probably one of VBS' best songs vocally. Akina especially sounds amazing.

An: Awake Now. We had to wait so long for this but it was so worth it. Again the instrumental is great and Jiena sounds so good in this song, I love An's solo version. I have this ranked just above Hitsuji on my tierlist lol

Akito: CRaZY. This song made my change my top 5 songs for the first time since spring 2022. It's just so good and all of VBS sounds amazing as always. I also like how it reflects Akito's character development from the event. My favorite rotation 4 song so far.

Toya: RAD DOGS. My original #2 song and current #3. I love the combination between classical and EDM, and HachiojiP did such a good job considering he didn't have any experience with classical. Also the Bad Dogs rap section is so good.

Tsukasa: Mr. Showtime. If I'm being honest I don't usually like showtunes like this a whole lot, they can be very hit or miss for me, but this is very much a hit. Daichan did really well in this song. My favorite part though is the lyrics, I love how Yama used different meanings for certain phrases in parentheses.

Emu: Hoshizora Orchestra or Niccori Chousa-tai no Theme. Again I keep changing my mind and they're pretty much tied for me. I like them for completely different reasons as well; Hoshizora Orchestra is pretty melancholic despite it's cutesy tune, and Niccori is just really fun to listen to.

Nene: Hoshizora no Melody. Easy pick for me, I love the instrumental a whole lot and listened to the preview over and over at the time. Also the lyrics are so good, I love how they tell the entire story of Wandasho and show how much they mean to each other.

Rui: potato ni Natte iku. Still my favourite song in the game, I'm really never moving on from this one. I just really like the instrumental. Showtime Ruler is an incredibly close 2nd place though (really close. guitar solo at the end goes hard and also "I will never feel lonely ever again")

Kanade: Samsa. It's just an amazing song, but I also appreciate how teniwoha managed to connect the novella to Kanade and Mafuyu's story. Probably my favorite song from rotation 3.

Mafuyu: Bug. I know it's a boring choice but it's a good song, it's popular for a reason. Also RUIRUI'S SOLO VERSION. She's such a talented vocalist and is really good at conveying Mafuyu's emotions.

Ena: Kagirinaku Haiiro e. I've actually always liked the instrumental of this one. Also the lyrics fit Ena's story really well. However the final chorus totally steals the show, I loop that part of the song specifically a lot. Favourite Niigo song.

Mizuki: IDSMILE. I actually didn't like this song much at first because it's not the sort of thing I usually like. The lyrics are what got me to like it as much as they do. I've mentioned before that Mizuki is my favorite niigo member, so I'm slighly biased in that regard, but they really struck an emotional chord with me.

If anyone's interested my top 10 is potato ni Natte iku -> Showtime Ruler -> RAD DOGS -> CRaZY -> Beyond the way -> Cinema -> Kagirinaku Haiiro e -> CYBERPUNK DEAD BOY -> IDSMILE -> Gekkou

[anistarrose]

Hello, TOH fandom, I am here once again to talk about accessibility!

[Image description: a screenshot of Lilith Clawthorne excitedly holding up a sign, which has been edited to read: "Image Descriptions for The Owl House (and why they matter)" in all caps. End description.]

Image descriptions, like the one I just used above, are exactly what it says on the tin: descriptions of the content of an image included to make the image maximally accessible.

Blind and low-vision people who use screen readers, people who rely on increased font size in-app or in-browser to read text, and neurodivergent people who have trouble interpreting elements of an image (for example, expression) all benefit from image descriptions.

And all images on the internet should be accessible regardless of topic, of course, but I've recently been trying to spread awareness in the context of The Owl House specifically because it's a show with multiple disabled and/or neurodivergent characters! In fact, Principal Bump is canonically low-vision with a service animal to help him in that regard — and I'd argue that making content about disabled characters accessible is extra, extra important!

[Image description: a screenshot of Principal Bump with his palisman Frewin removed from his head, revealing the scars over Bump's eyes. Frewin is in staff form, smiling, and Eda looks on from the side. End description.]

I know it's within this fandom's ability to make our posts about the finale as accessible as possible — and I know that because I've already seen a decent increase in described posts over the course of Season 3! I've seen more artist-described posts especially, which means a lot to me, and even more to a lot of other people, too <3

So, on that note, how to write an image description? It may seem intimidating, especially if describing someone else's post or fanart, but honestly, there's no definitive "rubric" to follow, just a list of general guidelines:

Indicate where the description starts and ends, with "end description" or "end ID".

Place the description immediately under the image, not under a read-more (this allows people who rely on IDs to experience the post the same way anyone else would, whereas read-mores are inconvenient, especially if OP changes their URL)

Minimize caps lock, italics, bold, and strikethrough, which can be hard to read and/or troublesome for screen readers. Generally, it's just best to transcribe in lowercase without particular effects, then indicate in the transcription if something is emphasized.

Likewise, don't put descriptions in Tumblr's special small text. It's difficult to read and inaccessible to many.

Don't make jokes or add commentary in IDs. If an image is meant to be humorous, obviously it's fine to phrase things in a way that tries to capture that, but it's not the place to add your own jokes, nor is it the place to declare subjective qualities like "this art is beautiful".

Descriptions can vary in length, but if one is getting long (if you're describing a comic, for example), then be sure to break it up with paragraph breaks.

Specifically, while I've heard that too many breaks (ie, every sentence) are annoying for some screen readers, long walls of text are conversely difficult for people with visual processing problems to parse. So, it's good to strike a balance.

With regards to length and amount of detail, it varies by personal preference! Most images don't need a whole small essay, but there's also value in describing certain small and symbolic details, subjective as it is.

Speaking of which, if you're the original artist, then you are automatically the expert on what you wanted the image to convey — the nuances of expression and body language, which details are important and which details are not — and for that reason, I love seeing artist-described works!

Below the cut: more on describing Owl House images specifically, on IDs versus alt text, and other possible questions!

When I transcribe TOH related posts, there's a few other guidelines I use, though these rules aren't as immediately important as the ones above. I generally start by indicating the type of image we're dealing with (a screenshot? fanart? a photo of a cosplay?), then mention what characters are depicted.

Unless I'm describing something long, like a comic, and relying on summarization, I usually mention which character designs we're dealing with (is Lilith in her dramatic black dress from Season 1? or is she in her low-battery shirt?). If it's fanart and the artist has come up with original outfits to put the characters in, I'll summarize those too.

(This is the other reason I love seeing artist-described works: because I, personally, am just kinda bad at describing fashion lol.)

Now, I'd like to go over some other questions that I've either encountered before, or anticipate:

What about alt text? Doesn't that accomplish the same purpose as image descriptions?

In a lot of senses, yes, so alt text is certainly much, much better than no description! However, remember that not every person relying on descriptions is necessarily someone who uses a screen reader every day, or uses a screen reader period. Some people do in fact read the descriptions themselves.

[Image description, identical to alt text: a screenshot of Luz Noceda from Season 2, smiling and blushing. End description.]

As you can see above, alt text takes an extra click (or tap) to access. In general, it's also prone to displaying walls of text, and — as far as I know — sometimes just doesn't show up if the Tumblr app isn't updated enough. (Not to mention that, in my opinion, making image descriptions visible to people who don't use them is an important part of spreading accessibility awareness in the first place!)

On the other hand, I've heard some people who benefit from descriptions say they actually prefer alt text, so I'm not going to come out and take a hard "absolutely no alt text ever under any circumstances" stance by any means. But, long story short, this is the reason that in my own posts, I almost always defer to in-post descriptions — the only exception might be if I'm writing a meta post, and functionally describing the images in the text anyway.

I've seen that sometimes you use [ ] brackets and sometimes you don't. Is there a reason?

Basically personal preference. I use brackets in posts like this when I have a lot of non-description writing, and want to make it extra clear where the description ends and the non-description begins. If I'm just captioning some fanart in a reblog and not adding any commentary, on the other hand, I leave off brackets because they're pretty redundant.

I'm nervous about describing images, but I still want to help make the fandom more accessible. Is there anything I can do?

Well, my first piece of advice would be to start small! Hell, start with just making sure you include a description whenever you post an image with just text, like a screenshot of a reply or someone's prev tags. You can build up little-by-little from there!

(My personal accessibility journey went from describing only tweet screenshots whose text I could just copy, to describing simple memes like cat pics, to deciding it was important to at least describe fanart of disabled characters like Eda, to finally describing almost every post I reblog. Trying to make that jump without any of the intermediate steps would've been overwhelming, but at this point, it all feels natural to me.)

But secondly, I would encourage showing some love to artists who describe their pieces! Queue up some described fanart, especially artist-described stuff, and help normalize it!

Get into the habit of checking the notes for descriptions (go to reblogs and filter by comments only) before you share! If someone describes your art, copy it into the original post, so the version of the thread reblogged directly from you will be accessible too! (And if you want to make some little tweaks, no one will be offended.)

You can also look into making your blog theme accessible, such as making sure the font size is large enough (and ideally sans serif, for readability). And if you feel more confident with describing audio, then writing transcripts of audio is always incredible as well, to help out those who are deaf, hard of hearing, or have auditory processing disorders!

I've heard that AI is able to describe images for screen readers pretty well these days. Are descriptions still important/going to remain important as the technology advances?

Well, let me say first that I'm very glad this technology exists, for sure! But I'm of the opinion that human described (and especially artist described) captions are, at least generally speaking, still going to be the gold standard for the foreseeable future — AI doesn't have the context we do for our art and our fandoms; it's much less likely than a fan of the show to pick up on what's an important or symbolic detail.

Are there actually people who need image descriptions in cartoon fandoms? I mean, the source material has such a visual component!

First off, blind and low vision people do in fact watch things like TV, movies, and plays — ever notice the "audio description" option to add narration to a given show in a streaming service? That's there to provide basically the real-time equivalent of image descriptions.

And, second, I'll leave you with this — don't you think a lot more disabled people would participate in fandom if fandom were more accessible and accommodating to disabled people in the first place?

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 1 ~ Introductions

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 1

✧ Word Count : 4.2k

In this chapter ~ In a life full of unexpected turns, this one by far hit Rose the hardest. A disease begins to spread when the dead are somehow brought back to life, that alone being the tip of the iceberg of what she remains to be faced with. When it all leads to her fighting for her life in Atlanta, she meets a group that ends up saving her from what she thought was the end of her rope. But when they bring her along for their great escape out of the dead infested city, she's faced with a decision that seemed to be more difficult than she first realized.

AN ~ Hi! So this is my very first post and series on tumblr and I’m still very much trying to get the feel of things lol. I originally uploaded the first two seasons of this fanfiction to wattpad and am still uploading frequently there, but I also wanted to give this a try as well. Just putting it on a different platform for more people to see:)

I will admit before you read, I started writing this story a little while ago so the phrasing and writing might be a little rusty at first seeing as I was just starting out. But I promise it gets better as it goes on, trust me! I hope whoever reads this grows to love it as much as I do. I will be uploading here as much as I can and adjusting to the new feel of things on here as quick as I can.

And I think that’s all for now! I hope you enjoy!

Fear.

That's the only emotion anyone ever feels anymore, or that's at least what I believe. Considering I've been on my own since the beginning, fear is something that I've had to grow accustomed to. And the world going to shit only made me realize how alone I truly was. How little I had to rely on as I saved myself time and time again. Though I had a family, the people whom I was bonded to by blood, they were nothing but a memory to me now. Reminding myself I was on my own for a reason.

I always knew how to take care of myself, simply because that was all I ever knew, and I was always silently thankful for that. I couldn't imagine living in this world and not knowing how to fight, or fend for yourself, so I considered myself lucky. I caught on quickly when it came time to start killing the dead, the very first time I had taken one out still haunts me to this day. The first feeling of fear I had felt in a very long time. I've learned the hard way that you never quite shake the feeling.

I had a day off from work, which was rare, just sitting in my apartment painting while the T.V. played quietly in the background. But then the whole atmosphere changed, nearly in a split second it felt like. My ears perked up when I suddenly heard blood curdling screams coming from the hallway just outside, instantly sending me flying to the front door to press my ear up against the surface. The desperate pleas and cries only seemed to worsen as the seconds ticked by, causing me to cautiously open my door to see two disgusting looking corpses going after a few of my neighbors. I froze at the scene before me.

They were trying to fight them off with random inanimate objects clutched tightly in their hands, flinching away as they tried desperately to fight back, screaming in utter terror. A part of me was torn, not wanting to step in and actually kill these things that looked exactly like us. People. But these things were no longer human, anyone could see that from a mile away.

I quickly snapped back into reality as my mind was made up, rushing back into my apartment to grab a large steak knife from my kitchen drawer, the blade glistening under the florescent light. My legs sprinted back through the corridor only moments later, stepping in as I shoved the thing up against the wall to get it away from the small group of people that had formed around it, causing the thing to growl as it looked directly at me. Goosebumps formed on my skin at the sight, quickly twirling the knife around to stab it in the chest, but it only continued to flail around in my grasp. My eyes widened as the monster didn't seem the least bit phased, trying again and again desperately to get its clawing hands away from me.

But finally, it a fit of aggravation, I took the blade and stabbed it right in between its eyes, silencing it completely as it fell limp out of my hold and onto the carpeted floor. My breathing was ragged as the others continued to panic loudly from just behind my frame, but I stayed completely still as I couldn't take my eyes away from the being I just murdered. I felt disgusting, horrified, and dazed. Though one thing I knew for certain, I couldn't stay here.

I didn't hesitate then to storm back into my home and pack a larger duffle bag full of my stuff to evacuate, knowing that this couldn't have just been happening here. Curiosity got the better of me as I flipped through the T.V. channels, landing on the news which showed utter chaos and live footage of these things attacking more people in many different countries. My heart seemed to stop for a moment as I watched, seeing that the world was nearly coming to an end as countless military machinery were flooding down the streets, attempting to put a stop to this before it spread. 

I didn't know what to do, where I would go, but I wanted to get as far away from here as possible. Looking into the dead eyes of the monster really didn't sit too well with me.

Though after that day, life was never the same. The dead slowly took over everything, killing off anyone they could get a hold of and silencing the planet completely. Leaving everyone who was left alive, utterly terrified and alone.

Two whole months had passed since the dreaded outbreak, and I found myself to be moving constantly. Never staying in the same place for too long, before packing up to move on and stay alive. That's truly all that mattered anymore.

Without having a real clear destination in mind, I somehow ended up in the city of Atlanta Georgia, just passing through the large structures hoping to gather some supplies before moving on all over again. But what I didn't expect, was to see hundreds of corpses filling the streets. My eyes widened at the sight as soon as I turned the corner, hoping to just silently slip away as I backed up from the giant swarm. But a few of their heads turned as they somehow spotted me, and the numbers only grew from there.

I practically sprinted in the other direction as fast as I could, slipping in between a few buildings to try and outrun the many that chased me with outstretched hands. But somehow, I ended up right in a dead end, the alley being blocked off by a giant wall in which I couldn't escape. My heart pounded as I slowly turned back around to face the dead, seeming to accept my fate as I had nowhere else to turn.

And that brings me to today. No, I didn't die...but if I'm being honest, a part of me wished that I had.

Instead of feeling the corpse's dead fingers tearing into me, a few living people came out of nowhere from the tall building to my right and began killing off the dead one by one, right before my eyes. I stood completely still as I thought at first I might be dreaming, but one of the men quickly grabbing my arm and pulling me along like a rag doll told me it was far from that.

Anyone else would be grateful for these people being at the right place at the right time, but I unfortunately didn't work too well with others, so grateful isn't really the word I would use.

So, currently you could say I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place as I racked my brain, trying to figure out how to get out of the situation I was put in. One of the men that had saved me was wearing a God awful hat that made me want to walk back in the herd of walkers. His name, I learned, was Rick Grimes and he and his group were the ones that helped me get out of the pickle I got myself in, along with dragging me with them as they too escaped from the large city of Atlanta. From what I overheard the others talking loudly about, they had just managed to save Rick as well, who was having just as bad of a day as I was, an hour before they saved me. To me it looked like we were both just random strangers that they decided to pick up like lost dogs.

Though I was weary of them, the rest of the group seemedto be nice enough, except for this asshole Merle who was this racist, sexist, piece of shit. Spewing out slurs and insults from his lips every five minutes and only pushing my urge further to walk towards the flesh eating monsters. Wanting to just end my suffering. Though, to make a very long story short, we ended up leaving him handcuffed on the roof of a building where we were once trapped. And much to my surprise, it wasn't on purpose. Rick eventually had enough of the man's bullshit and took his fancy, shiny handcuffs to lock him in place on a metal pole, and a man named T-Dog accidentally dropped his key to freedom down a drain.

But when the time came, we had no choice but to leave him when the dead had broken into the building we were holed up in. The only option we really had now was to maybe go back for him later. Maybe. But to put it into perspective on how uncomfortable I was, riding in this truck with them to their camp...I would rather switch places with Merle.

I was suddenly pulled out of my thoughts when the vehicle we were riding in stopped abruptly, assuming we were at the sanctuary these people had been talking so much about. I took a moment to lean forward and glance out the windshield at my surroundings, not liking the feeling that was forming in my gut at the thought of meeting anyone new. But Rick caught me scanning the area, reading my expression from where he sat in the passenger seat and clearly sensed my nerves.

Though he eventually caught my eye, "Don't worry too much...we're in this together." he assured, flashing a half smile at me that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

I raised my eyebrows at his attempt. Oh, thank God we're in this together. 

The man who was driving, Morales, told us to come out and meet everyone with a nod before he jumped out of the truck to run to his family. I shared another uneasy look with Rick before slowly following his actions to see for myself what I would be dealing with. My gaze scanned through everyone that was gathered around and instantly all their attention was on me once they heard my door slam shut. I grew uncomfortable at all the watchful eyes boring holes straight into my forehead, but the kid named Glenn eventually stepped in when he sensed the obvious tension.

"Guys, this is Rose. We saved her back in the city. She's cool." he assured with a smile, silently telling all of them to back off.

I shifted uncomfortably, forcing a small smile though it couldn't have been more fake. It seemed as though after Glenn said something, everyone relaxed a bit, thinking that I wouldn't be much of a threat. Though I could be. But they didn't need to know that. I didn't plan on hurting these people or taking their fishing poles unless they tried something with me first. But by the looks of it, some of these people looked like they couldn't even kill a fly, so I made the assumption that I was somewhat safe.

Though all of a sudden, the whole atmosphere seemed to change, everything happening in slow motion as a few people stared at me wide eyed. A man, a woman, and a kid. Confusion crossed my face as I wondered what I did to make these people stare daggers at me, until I heard a small gasp from behind. I looked over my shoulder to see Rick standing there in awe, wearing the same expression they did as he processed the situation in disbelief. I soon realized that they had been looking just behind me the entire time and quickly stepped off to the side as fast as I could.

Well, that's fucking embarrassing.

The little boy then took off in a flash towards Rick, screaming "Dad!" as he cried, and then it all seemed to click. This was the family Rick briefly mentioned to the group. The family he had been trying desperately to find. They had been here the whole time.

Everyone watched as they reunited with laughter and tears, the heartwarming scene almost causing me to smile. Though I snapped out of it with a shake of my head, my eyes now lingering down toward the ground as I crossed my arms around my middle.

After the moment had passed, that only came time for very long and boring introductions as Rick and I seemed to meet everyone else in the camp. I nodded towards everyone somewhat politely as I learned each of their names that I would surely accidentally forget. Although one seemed to really stick out to me amongst the many others.

Someone briefly mentioned the name Dixon, and I couldn't help but ponder over it for longer than necessary. The familiarity left a bad taste in my mouth. Apparently, Merle had a brother. And here I thought one was enough.

However, I had yet to meet him because the older man, Dale, informed me he was currently out hunting somewhere in the woods just ahead of us. But the truth was I didn't need to meet the man to know that he was an asshole just like the one we left behind. I mean, they were related after all.

The entire group then sat around a fire once the sun finally set, eating something small they cooked for the night, while discussing some random things that people would occasionally bring up. But the hot topic currently was what would they say to Daryl when the time came to tell him about his relative. In my mind it was pretty simple, but it was clear these people didn't want to be too harsh about it.

"How do we break it to him?" Dale asked.

"We just tell him the truth," Rick stated simply, "I'll tell him, I mean I was the one who cuffed him."

"No, I'll tell him...I'm the one who dropped the key." T-Dog gently argued, the guilt clearly getting to him.

Glenn sighed as he picked at the food on his plate, "I don't mean to bring race into this but...it might sound better coming from a white guy."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes hearing them going back and forth about the sensitive subject, hearing the same things being said over and over again. I stayed completely silent during the debate as I felt it was far from my business to put in my input, slowly tuning their conversation out. It was then I came to the realization that I couldn't stay here. Stepping even a foot into this camp was clearly a big mistake, I didn't belong with the rest of them. I was always better off alone.

And what seemed to annoy me the most was that I didn't have a choice, they just dragged me back here without even asking, without a care in the world. To me, that alone was a good enough reason to flee the moment I got the chance.

As the hour grew late and the sun disappeared from the sky, they all collectively decided to call it a night as everyone went their separate ways. I planned to head off into the forest to sleep, unprepared to trust the environment here as I felt I always had to keep my guard up. It made me feel safer, more secure, and it gave me an easier escape route for when morning came.

I jumped at the opportunity to be alone, grabbing my things and stepping over the few logs in my way to head toward the tree line for some much needed silence. Though just as I was about to receive the smallest taste of freedom, a voice calling out behind me caused me to stop.

"Hey, Rose!" I recognized Dale's voice softly shout.

My chest raised up and down with a deep sigh, turning around to face him as I looked at him expectantly. "I know you don't have a tent of your own or anything, but we do have some extra room in the RV..." 

I continued to stare, hardly showing any emotion on my face at all as I tried to read him, figuring out what his intentions were.

"Look, I know you're new and clearly don't feel too comfortable here just yet...but I just want to make sure you have a safe place to sleep. Now, you don't have to, I just thought I would offer." he said, finishing with a smile.

It was no secret to me that Dale was a good person and a decent man. There were definitely some people in this group that gave me a bad feeling right off the bat, however, Dale wasn't one of them. But I needed to get away. I only wanted this group to be a distant memory in the back of my mind and nothing more.

So, with that I shook my head, "I'm okay." I said as politely as I could before heading off into the forest.

I could hear him sigh from behind me as I walked away but I didn't let it bother me. I needed to go. A part of me didn't even want to sleep so I could get a head start to put some distance between me and this place, but I was fairly tired from running for my life throughout the day. So, I figured I should sleep for a couple of hours and leave before anyone else woke to head off to...well, anywhere but here.

My eyes groggily peeled open the following morning just before the sun began to rise over the hills, looking at it made me guess was it was around four or five in the morning. I yawned and stretched tiredly before standing up to my full height and placing my bag securely on my back, ready to head off in the opposite direction of the camp as the dirt crunched loudly beneath my feet. Although I didn't get very far, maybe about five steps before something suddenly stopped me in my tracks. I stood frozen there for a minute, just thinking. For some reason there was a certain hunch I had, an inkling of sorts. Something telling me to stop.

My mind started to spiral with many different thoughts, enough to give you a headache, but then that's where I stopped myself. My whole life whenever I had a gut feeling about something, I needed to trust it. My little intuition was almost never wrong. And although most impressions like this were like warnings about uneasy feelings, this one was different. Like a magnet was pulling me back to the group. A strong ass magnet.

I found myself plopping back down on my ass, my back up against the tree with my knees to my chest, just lost in my own thoughts, debating and arguing with myself for what felt like hours when in reality it was probably only a few minutes. But a golden flicker of light appearing out of the corner of my eye is what made me look back up, seeing the sun beginning to rise higher in the sky enough to kiss my cheeks. Okay...so it really had been a few hours.

But even after clear hours had passed me by, I was still left very torn about to do with myself. My head was screaming at me to just get out of here, to be on my own without any limitations or responsibilities. But my heart was calmly telling me to stay, to see how it would work out in the end if I went against my better judgement. I hadn't had a real group at all since the outbreak first happened, but in my mind, I never wished for one. I always believed it was okay to be alone, watching out for yourself rather than anyone else dragging you down. That was the logical way to survive...wasn't it?

With that I let out an aggravated groan and slowly stood back up to make my walk of shame back into camp, knowing it would eat me alive if I didn't give it another chance. One more day, I promised myself, and if nothing changed, I'd leave tonight.

As I walked back into the grounds, I noticed some people were already awake in the early hours of the morning much to my surprise. Carol and her daughter Sophia were sitting up on one of the logs talking quietly to each other, the woman's gaze glancing up as she noticed my movement. She sent me a sweet smile with a small wave, to which I nodded to her in return.

My eyes then looked away from her for a split second when I caught a brief glimpse of Rick walking away from the campsite, a certain determination in his step and his head low. I stayed in place as I watched his figure disappear, before I found my feet slowly moving forward to follow him. I didn't know why I did. I just grew curious, I guess.

When I caught up to his long strides, I found him sitting on a larger rock, seemingly talking to himself though I couldn't make out the words from where I was standing. It was all too hushed and quiet. But then my eyes panned over a bit to see a device in his hands, his mouth lowering closer as he spoke into it. Good to know he wasn't batshit crazy or anything.

Though as I shifted my weight and prepared to leave him be, I somehow accidently stepped too far to the right and directly onto a branch that snapped loudly under my boot. My eyes closed the second it happened, silently cursing to myself. Rick's head seemed to whip around the moment the sound hit his ears, his hand hovering over his gun in its holster, but his body instantly relaxed when he realized I wasn't a walking corpse.

The man then flashed me a small smile as he recovered from the mini heart attack, "Hey...you're up early."

I lifted my arm to check my imaginary watch, "No shit." 

He nodded slowly, "You're not a morning person...noted." he spoke before sighing to himself as he stared at me, "You know, I can tell you've been alone for quite some time. And I know you're probably scared, but-"

"I'm not scared of anything." I was quick to correct, my harsh tone even surprising myself.

His brows raised a little, whether it was because of my words or the fact that I interrupted him, I wasn't sure. But one thing I knew for certain was I wasn't going to stand here and listen to him accuse me of the things I was feeling when he didn't know anything about me at all. Everyone around here might've been scared of this new world, but I sure as hell wasn't. Maybe that was another reason I shouldn't be here; these people didn't know what the hell they were doing. Too scared to have a steady head on their shoulders. 

"Okay, maybe you're not scared... but you are alone." he spoke again.

I didn't open my mouth to respond as my eyes narrowed at him further. Thanks, captain obvious.

He continued, "Look, I know you don't trust us, but all I'm asking for is that you give us a chance. I saw the way you were looking at everyone last night, like you were ready to pounce any minute in case anyone tried anything. But I can tell you need us as much as we need you-"

"Okay," I interrupted with a wave of my hand, "Let me stop you right there before you break out into song and dance. I'm going to make something perfectly clear. I don't need you, or your parade of assholes back there for anything. I have always been just fine on my own, and last time I checked I didn't even ask for you to save me and bring me back here. You just did it. So don't tell me I'm scared, or I need any of you because that is far from the truth, asshole." I spoke harshly.

He stared at me for a few seconds not knowing how to respond, but he clapped back quicker than I expected, "Alright, fair enough. You're right... I don't know you. You didn't ask me to save you, and you don't look like you need anyone's help. All I'm just saying is it's nice to have other people watching your back. I felt completely alone until I found a man and his son while looking for my family, and now I can be a part of this group...and so can you. You just have to trust it...give it a chance."

My brows furrowed as I opened my mouth to retaliate, but it was apparently his turn to cut me off instead, "I can understand if you want to leave. Just know that...everyone in camp likes the idea of having you around."

His response was far from what I expected, finding I didn't say anything in return mostly because I couldn't find the right words. How could he be so understanding over someone he didn't even know? It honestly blew my mind a little.

When he saw I wasn't going to argue further, he turned back around to watch the sun continue to rise. And after debating in my head for a minute or two, I decided to walk over and sit myself next to him on the giant rock. He glanced at me when I sat down, probably expecting me to say some smart ass comment in return to his statement, but I didn't. We just sat in comfortable silence until the sky was no longer orange and pink, but now turning into more of a pale blue with clouds slowly filling up the remaining space. It was somewhat refreshing.

I could tell he was about to move and stand up to his feet, probably to head back to camp, but I said something that stopped him.

"I never wanted to be alone." I confessed, not taking my eyes off the sky.

As soon as the words left my lips, I closed my eyes for a moment as I regretted what I said almost instantly. I didn't want to admit defeat to anyone, let alone a stranger, but I figured I should in this case for him to truly understand what I was feeling.

I felt his eyes on me as he said nothing, expecting me to continue, so I did. "I was already alone before the world went to shit...and I guess I've just gotten used to being by myself. It's kind of exhausting looking out for other people."

He still remained silent.

"My point is, I don't know if I'm staying." I said, finally turning to look at him.

He nodded, "That's okay. Just...make sure to think about it before you make any rash decisions. Who knows...maybe you'll change your mind." he said almost suggestively before finally standing up to head back in the opposite direction.

I turned my head and watched his frame retreat away from me for a few seconds, his words echoing in my mind, before returning all my attention back to the sky. A part of me still wanted to go, the fear of the unknown creeping back up on me, however I did tell myself that I would give it another chance. But if I couldn't find a reason to say by tonight, that was that. I would leave this group behind.

~ Thanks for reading!

[zahri-melitor]

Reading Digger Harkness as an Aussie: why he’s specifically written to wind me up, the undercurrents of many of his appearances, and why he’s voting No in the Voice referendum.

(Okay if you know ANYTHING about Digger and about the Voice you already knew that, but making this current-relevant!)

George “Digger” Harkness is Captain Boomerang. He’s traditionally written by DC to be specifically, deliberately annoying and disliked. Due to this he’s simultaneously quite cleverly written while also being the laziest character stereotype imaginable.

One of the things that drives me up the wall every time I read him in a book is that due to a clash of a few things in his character design, the subtext he’s evolved over time is remarkably complex, but also geared to make me despise him. Also I can’t tell how much of it is deliberate on the writer’s part.

The first thing you need to understand is that Harkness is very specifically putting on a level of Australianness for his audience (the usually American characters around him). The fascinating thing in this is that, unusually for this trope, his writers are often aware he’s doing this. The common term for this is ‘ocker’. You can notice this in the language he uses: it’s specifically peppered with ‘Australian’ words and phrases.

Now this is a pretty common thing for writers to do to demonstrate a character is Australian. It sounds like someone trying to write Crocodile Dundee or Steve Irwin. However, to my ear (and years of putting up with this), the way it’s done for Digger is…off. It’s not the standard terrible way it’s used in American media, but it’s equally not written naturally for how an Australian who natively speaks ocker/broad would use it. Digger’s playing it up, and he’s playing it up badly. (the closest comparison I can make than an Australian might understand is he sounds more like Russell Coight than Steve Irwin, with all that implies) He wants people to think he’s an Australian stereotype.

Heck, let’s break down his name for a demonstration of this.

Captain Boomerang: this is a very, very, loaded name. Digger’s specifically racist, and he’s racist in a very White Australia Policy sort of way. The writers are aware he’s racist. He uses a boomerang as a symbol as he’s Australian (surface level) but they’re also specifically drawn as white a lot of the time, both in his costume and in the weapons themselves. They’re not plain wood or decorated with traditional art. They’re white. He has a history of making boomerangs and promoting them in Australia for sale, as a white guy, which is uhhhh Not Great. He’s assumed a traditional piece of Australian Aboriginal weaponry and culture as his own, and he’s painted it white. He’s asserting that it’s his culture now and has stripped it of its traditional meaning. (Also his boomerangs often don’t come back, and have sharpened edges and are used wrongly). He doesn’t like Black People ™ but also uses a weapon specifically associated with an oppressed minority in his place of origin. The white supremacy attitude is very much coded in.

“Digger” as a nickname: oh the way this clashes and interacts with the fact he uses ‘Captain’ as a title! Digger as a term is a general nickname for Australian Army soldiers. It comes from the Gallipoli landings and the trenches of World War I. By using it as his nickname, Harkness is evoking a whole HOST of imagery and specifically nationalist cultural imagery surrounding Gallipoli as a ‘birthplace’ of Australian identity, something that’s been weaponised particularly by the Australian political right for the past 30 years as a national symbol. In the stories that a country tells itself about who they are, Harkness is evoking a very major one and also one that can read as quite toxic if not done carefully. (if you need a quick entry to the way the nickname makes me wince, look up ‘Cronulla Riots’. That’s the sort of person his name is evoking for me) The other problem on top of this – this is a soldier’s nickname. Harkness has never been in the Australian military (as far as I can tell). Combined with the fact he uses the title of ‘Captain’, he’s suggesting he’s got a military background that he 100% does not have. He’s a giant hypocrite. Now being part of the military in Australia reads differently to being part of the military in the USA, in how society sees it, but this is still not on. It’s not a natural nickname for an Australian to have, in his circumstances. It doesn’t even make sense as a traditional ironic nickname given by his friends. Which means he picked it himself. And for that style of nickname…choosing your own? That’s considered to be poor form and trying way too hard. (And nicknames are culturally important! For the personality Harkness is trying to present to his audience, he SHOULD have a nickname like this. My father’s is ‘Bones’, for instance. But choosing your own, and choosing one that implies traits that are not yours to display? Really really bad form)

Basically in summary, Harkness is very much coded in a lot of ways to essentially be the Australian equivalent of someone who stormed the Capitol on January 6, 2021. With that sort of view of his home country.

What is fascinating is that when Harkness interacts with other Australian characters, they do not like him, so the writers are aware that he’s been written to be this level of objectionable.

Now, some of this coding in his character has just accumulated over 60+ years as stereotypes have evolved and things have become ever more socially unacceptable. But the interesting thing here is that the writers ACKNOWLEDGE that unacceptable behaviour from Harkness.

I hate him so much. And I also want to fix his dialogue, which suffers from being written by Americans, to include a bunch more extremely country ocker sayings. He NEEDS to be saying things like “stone the flaming crows” and “fair shake of the sauce bottle” and “flat out like a lizard drinking” and “I didn’t come here to fuck spiders”. Because he’s putting it on. And these are the sort of things he’d lean in to to convey that level of “oh I’m not from around here, I am quoting Crocodile Dundee at you but you didn’t even realise” that he’s written to have.

[unhonestlymirror]

"If you take school and university textbooks, which list nations, it is written there that the French were born in the early Middle Ages, the English, the Poles, they all lead from there. And for some reason, we [Ukrainians] need to have origins from the 14th century. The question is, why? Was there any hiatus between the 12th and 15th centuries? No. The population has not changed...

They say, "Tatars used to go here"! The Tatars used to go here, but the Tatars did not sit down here because the Tatars and Mongols needed the steppe. They imposed taxes, and they themselves fled into the steppe.

It should be said that there is no hiatus, which Moscow archaeologists insisted on, and the absence of this hiatus was proven by Soviet archaeology in the 60s and 70s, that there was no depopulation here. Kyiv is an ancient Ukrainian city, just as Kyivan Rus is an ancient Ukrainian state. Why? Because general historical laws. The first stage of European ethnic groups existed - this is the tribal stage. From the 500s to the 900s, about 400 years, all these ethnic groups - the English, the French, the Poles, the Ukrainians, the Serbs - did not have a single ethnonym, they consisted of separate tribal unions. The tribal stage of existence is the entire early Middle Ages. The English consisted of Angles, Saxons, and Jutes. The Poles consisted of five tribes - the Kashubs, the Mazovshans, the Slenzyans, the Vislyans, and the Polyans. And from these tribes five dialects are now left in the Polish language. And the Ukrainians consisted of Polyans, Drevlians, Volhynians, Ulychis, Carpathian Croats... Europe is maturing somewhere in the year 900-1000, and all these peoples are creating their first aristocratic national states. The first English kingdom arises in the year 1000, around this time, the first Polish kingdom of the Piast dynasty arises. At the same time, the Prague principality of the Czechs emerged, at the same time, the Serbian state and Rus, with its centre in Kyiv, emerged. That is, this is a universal regularity. Since all these states that I have listed are considered Polish, English, Serbian or Spanish states in the medieval stage of development in the textbooks of these countries, we have no reason to doubt the Ukrainianness of Rus. Who wants to doubt - please break these universal laws.

You know that Meshko the First lived in the time of Volodymyr the Holy, and his son Boleslav the Brave - in the time of Yaroslav the Wise. So, Meshko the First and Boleslav the Brave are Polish kings, but try to tell someone that Volodymyr the Holy or Yaroslav the Wise are Ukrainians. You will be spit on! Moreover, by the Ukrainians themselves. And, by the way, all the walls of Sophia of Kyiv are covered with Ukrainian texts, Serhiy Vysotsky also spoke about this. Before his death, he called me and told me that there were Ukrainian texts there, but it was impossible to write about it. In the book he published, all this is translated into Russian.

What elements are there on the walls? Наприклад, клична форма української мови – «Петре», «коню», «князю», що питомо українське, в російській мові цього немає. Дієслова на «-ти» – іти, ходити. Дієслова на «-мо» – живемо, ходимо. Давальний відмінок однини чоловічого роду – князеві, Петрові, Іванові.

Vasiliy Klyuchevskii, a great russian patriot, when asked what language the prince of Kyiv spoke, he said: the language that grandmothers speak in the bazaars in Kyiv now. There are a huge number of these proofs in this regard.

Agatangel Krymsky also wrote about these linguistic features. He has an article about what language was spoken in princely Kyiv. He composed a phrase from the words of the 12th century and accompanied it with the following words: no Moscow professor will understand this phrase, and any grandmother from the Kyiv bazaar will. The phrase sounded like this: «Кицька сидить на призьбі, доки її окропом з глека не злякають або хорти лови не влаштують».

So, summing up, princely Kyiv was as much Ukrainian as London was English, Gniezno was Polish, and Paris was French. These were not Ukrainians, Frenchmen, or Poles as they are now. Because it is an organism, and the organism develops. And these were Ukrainians, Poles, and Englishmen at that medieval stage of development."

Leonid Zaliznyak

[crimsonlyinglilly]

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

Also No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

Here's Days 9 and 29 of @whumptober 2024, earlier than planned but since Day 5 happens right after this i thought it would make more sense.

Trigger warning for implied non-con and SA,

Compulsion is a horror that doesn't get covered enough so I thought I'd explore it with the first person to use it, or on would be a better way to phrase that.

Quite a time skip for Karma's a bitch,

Set The Originals 3 X 10

Tristan gets revenge and Elijah learns what the other side of Compulsion feels like.

----

“You remember yourself, Elijah Mikaelson.”

It was hard to work out when he was doomed to this, before the needle when into his neck stripping of the powers he had so recently learned to rely on, the protection being a witch granted him from certain vampire powers and poisoning him, or further back, from the moment Tristan had learnt of his change in circumstances months ago.

No he thought, as it took him a moment to readjust to being himself again, Dahlia's spell may have created the opportunity for this hell, but he had earned it all on his own when he learned how to compel.

Moments before he had thought himself a persona assistant named Edward, earnest and excited to work for Mr. De Martel, he had ignored the strange orders unaware he couldn’t have refused them if he wanted to and when Tristan had told him to come to him and look him in his eyes he had.

It was just the latest game Tristan was playing, his first sired had made it clear Elijah was not going to survive to nightfall, after explaining how he could compel him and the side effects of the drug. Even if he escaped and returned to his family the damage would already prove fatal and as his sire line was still intact for the safety of the strix and all those of his sire line he was going to be turned before that. 

This was just Tristan having his fun, getting revenge for the century Elijah had compelled him, beating him in the first place and likely the harm he had caused Aurora.

He blinked as he realised why Tristan had returned him, his phone had been ringing, the one Tristan had ordered to hand over shortly after he had first been doomed by those eyes. 

“Call your brother back and tell him not to bother you for a while, that you have a lead on Hayley, make sure he knows how annoyed you are by his interruption.” Tristan tells him, handing his own phone to him, as much as Elijah tries to stop himself, his body moves and redails the missed call.

Because after showing Elijah he could be compelled, with simple almost innocent demands to stand still and hush, Tristan had given him two more more complex ones

You will address me as sir and follow every order I give you.

Then he had.

His voice is sharp, words sharper as he snaps at Klaus for bothering when he was working to get Hayley back. Inside his head he pleaded for Niklaus to notice something but their relationship hadn’t recovered since Gia so Niklaus takes his cruelties with little complaint and hangs up the phone.

Leaving Elijah alone with Tristan once again, Elijah has a sudden sinking fear that could be the last time he hears his brother's voice but before he could think too much the phone was plucked from his hand and fingers gripped his jaw.

He doesn’t wince as they press down over bruises already forming before they force him to look down at the slightly shorter man.

“You are Edward-” Tristan started, and Elijah could not look from his blue eyes as he found himself falling away again.

—

Tristan watched with amusement at the concentration of Edwards’s face as he read through the report, nothing too important, not that mattered Edward would cease to exist soon and Elijah would be safely locked away.

Once long ago they had shared a desk like this, when he taught the other how to read and write. Taking the task himself, from Lucien as a way to get to know more about his father’s guests and instead he had found himself impressed by the speed Elijah had picked things up.

“It's almost like old times.” Tristan lets himself speak the words out loud, grinning at the reaction.

Dark eyes look at him almost adorably confused because to Edward there is no old times.

It's a look Elijah would never let him see now, wide eyed open and unsure.

“Sir?” Edward asks, unaware he couldn’t call him anything other than that even if he wanted.

He looks into the brown eyes and sees nothing, no recognition to what he's referring to, but also no horror or inner struggle, Edward is confused but pleased by his attention.

He would wonder if deep down Elijah was aware of this but he remembers his time a century of being Elijah and suddenly being himself again.

For a century Tristan De Martell hadn't existed like currently Elijah Mikaelson didn't exist.

When they had designed the drug it had been an utter failure for its purpose, made for the purpose of being able to compel a witch to perform magic made useless as it both cut off the witch from their powers and killed them slowly after just one dose.

An expensive poison at most but when he had gotten the news of his sire’s return to humanity it became the ideal tool.

The text alert tone pulled him away before he thought further on it, he made a show of knocking his glass over as he pulled his phone out smirking as the blood mixed wine spilled over the tablet and onto Edward.

Edward cursed and he stood up suddenly and was split between attempts to prevent himself from getting more stained or the papers, in the end he chose the papers and Tristan watched as more red soaked into the white shirt.

He had made Elijah leave his jacket behind in the alley where he had first caught him.

The message almost removed his amusement, they were ready, he sighed slightly before putting the phone away.

It was a shame for the fun to end so soon.

“Look at you.” he called lightly, causing Edward to freeze his attempts to save the papers and send him an embarrassed look as he seemed to notice the mess he had made of himself.

“Sorry, sir.” Edward a blush rising to his cheeks, Tristan had to bite back a smile that was far more predatory that even Edward could ignore, softening it as he stepped closer. He might as well make the most of what little time he had left when he could leave bruises.

“It’s a good thing, there's an adjoining shower” he told him as he started to unbutton the shirt. 

There was a hesitation as Edward’s mind stumbled, Tristan paid no mind as he worked, it wasn’t like Edward could deny him and besides he had been made for this purpose. He stopped as an idea came to him stepping back to lean against the table, ignoring as he felt the wine start to soak into his trousers. He’d be shaving a shower soon anyway.

“Strip for me.” he ordered and watched as Edward followed without thought.

—

Elijah could feel his body failing even as Tristan’s commands keep him standing as he follows him into the warehouse.

Tristan had wanted Elijah back while they were in the car, not that it had wiped away what his time as Edward had been like, he could feel new bruises and bites all over his body and the dampness from the shower they had shared before the car arrived.

“You should thank me for getting you a change of clothes.” Mr de Martel his boss had joked as they dried off, Edward had smiled, unable to look away from his eyes.

“Thank you.” 

The collar he had paced around his own throat was an insult to injury if Elijah didn’t know Tristan better or had millennia of memories to notice when something was enchanted; however cut off from magic he couldn't work out what the enchantment was.

He was too busy trying to work out the purpose of it to noticed their surrounding until a shout snapped him out of it

“ELIJAH!” Hayley voice jolted him but as much as he wanted to turn, to look at her, check out her injuries, he couldn’t  Keep your eyes on me made that impossible as he followed Tristan into a large room.

Tristan came to a stop and started to talk but Elijah found it hard to pay attention to his words as his slouched despite himself and he found himself leaning against a support beam

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tristan tutted as he noticed, stopping his likely bragging to Hayley and Jackson Elijah noted the second chair out of the corner of his eyes, to turn to him “stand up straight, who said you could rest?”

“Yes sir,” the words escaped him as body straightened against his will.

Elijah longed to bite his tongue and choke to death than utter any words like that again, an inglorious end but Trsitan’s face as he realised he had taken them all with him would be worth it.

You won’t harm yourself unless I order it. Unfortunately Tristan both knew him and was prepared.

“What have you done to him?” Hayley snarled

“You’ve compelled him, how?”Jackson's voice was softer, sounding as exhausted as Elijah felt “he’s a witch.”

“We have a solution for that: a drug that cuts a witch from nature, doesn’t last long and given the aftereffects of it it’s closer to a poison.” Tristan explained 

“You're killing him, but you're still linked if he dies-” Hayley’s voice reminded Elijah the reason he had been caught in the first place, well he knew where they were and the fact they were together made it easier to rescue them

“Only if he stays dead. Which i won't be letting happen. Although I will miss this,” he said to her before turning back to Elijah “Kneel.” Tristan smiled and Elijah’s knees hit the floor before he could even think to fight it.

If only he wasn’t in need of rescuing as well.

“Now stand up.” Tristan said raiding one hand like a puppeteer, not that he was much more than one now as he body followed it up, standing unsteadily, the underlying damage the drug had done must be getting worse, Edward hadn’t felt anything like this.

“Kneel” Tristan repeated and Elijah hit the ground without any grace and hyper aware of new bruises “And up-”

He failed to stop the whine from escaping him. His body shaking despite the compulsion ordering him and his own attempt to stop it.

“Oh!” Tristan sounded delighted as he stepped closer, “Would you like to stay down there?” he asked before adding pointlessly “Elijah, answer me honestly.”

“Yes please sir.” He does, because he couldn’t have lied anymore than he could have refused to answer the moment Tristan asked, the true words he wanted to spit taken from him long ago.

“That’s better,” Tristan crouched in front of him, hand reaching for his hair as if to reward a pet, it wasn’t until the hand tightened as he was forced to meet blue eyes that fear returned, he would have closed his eyes for all the weakness it was but Tristan had taken that from him as well  “you enjoyed that.” Tristan ordered and Elijah can’t stop the gasp that escapes him as a flood of warmth filled him.

Twisted fucker, his first sired was, and he had gotten far to much of a reminder of that in the last few hours. 

He had foolishly been attracted to the hidden darkness while still exploring his new existence and had his own worst drawn out but that was nine hundred years ago, Elijah should have known better than to leave someone like Tristan to wander free with a grudge against him, no matter how much the grudge was warranted.

It was pure childish sentimentality and Tristan’s own version of obsession that had made Elijah a toy for him.

“You are free to no longer follow my orders.” Tristan said unexpectantly, making Elijah blink. 

“Why?” he asked, biting back the urge to add sir to it.

“Because watching the glimmer of hope fade when you realise this freedom makes no difference is something I wouldn't want to miss.” Tristan told him softly “I am going to miss these however.” Tristan said tracing his jaw where Elijah knew his figures had left bruises.

“If we had more time I would have given you a few scars to remember our time.”

Elijah will blame the fatigue caused by the drug and the damage it was causing his body for the slowness that caused him to be taken by surprise by the sudden appearance of a bloody wrist.

“Drink.” Tristan smiled as Elijah did, he knew this was coming and yet the taste of iron was a final stone.

He was going to die, just when he had finally adjusted to being a human again, to being a witch, to being alive.

He was going to break his word to Davina, he couldn’t help her bring back Kol once he was a vampire, he only hoped the amount of his blood and magic they had been collecting would be enough.

The soon freedom from the achieve  Kol’s death wasn’t worth losing everything else and knowing he'd be returning the pain to Freya, with his own death.

“Once you wake up you will use this knife and drink from Mr. Kenner to complete your transition.” Tristan told him, as he pulled his wrist free and handed him the knife, the cut Elijah hadn’t even seen he made healing, “Then those I leave here will escort you to your cell where you will be spending the rest of your life. You can fight but you will lose, after all you’ll just be a new vampire, so young against your betters.” Tristan smirked at him, hand brushing across his face.

Elijah’s hand tightened on the blade’s handle as he could feel the bruises and bite makes heal, and the strange feeling of the blood attempting to heal the damage done by the drug before it failed.

“Before we get to that we have one last thing to do,” Tristan said as he reached into his jacket, Elijah found himself missing his own, he was starting to feel cold but had a feeling it was the damage to his body more than the actual temperature. “I’m not heartless.”

Elijah snorted, getting a raised brow from Tristan before the back of his hand hit him. Elijah swayed on his knees just managing to stay upright even as his body longed to collapse.

“I'm letting you say goodbye to your brother.” Tristan told him as he pulled Elijah’s own phone from his pocket. “It will be the last time you see him, so thank me.”

“Thank you, sir.” the words come out without thought, to his humiliation he had grown too used to following Tristan’s words, he would blame the exhaustion later.

It wasn’t out of any true good sentiment, it was to gloat, for Tristan to show off he won, Elijah would be dead before they managed to find him but he would take it as a last chance to see his brother, to apologise for falling to this.

Besides Elijah knows he would have done the same if he had Aurora, to throw Tristan off his game, Klaus and Tristan were similar in the easiest way to break them.

Tristan smiled at him widely as he noticed his slip up running a hand across his cheek as he found the contact and it started to dial.

Elijah debated quickly over the pros and cons of biting him.

The dialling ended before he made a choice.

“Elijah?” Niklaus’ voice filled the room “Have you found her?”

“Almost” Tristan answered before he could “but he is here, let me show you”

The phone was suddenly held in found of them and Elijah was able to see Klaus’s face, while aware of how close they were Tristan almost draped over him, one hand holding the phone while the other curled around his shoulder so easy to force him to look back at him. 

“Tristan, what have you done?” Niklaus snarled and Elijah tried to keep his eyes on him, memorising his brother's rage, better than the blue eyes he was forced to look into.

“Elijah, smile,“ Tristan told him, and he did, a open smile spreading across his face as panic grew, because this wasn’t- Tristan wouldn't make him-

Oh but he would.

“Niklaus-” he started hoping he could get out words before Tristan spoke again, but he couldn’t pull his face from Tristan’s grip and escape his eyes

“Now turn to your brother and say goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” he parroted growing panic as he couldn't say another thing before he was forced to look back at his first sired.

No, not in front of them, don't make Niklaus watch, it was bad enough he was going to be forcing Freya to feel his loss again.

“Slit your throat.” Tristan told him, almost a lover’s whisper before letting him go to stand up. 

“NO!” several voices shout but they mean nothing as the command settles in Elijah’s mind.

The hand raising the blade anyway, he tried to angle it to cut against the leather around his neck but as the last hours had proved he had little control as the blade slid across the skin above it, cutting deep.

He choked on blood and the loss of his air as the warehouse dimmed.

He saw Tristan grin down at him as he watched him die, the phone in his hand reminding him that Niklaus was watching.

He was human for barely six months and the last taste in his mouth is still iron. 

He sees Tristan’s lips move, reads his lips 

As much as he hates causing Hayley’s pain, he’s thankful her scream covers Tristan’s final words to him.

“Good boy.” 

[artiststarme]

...You Make Lemonade

A little snippet based on a comment made by @straight4joekeery in my "When Life Gives You Lemons..." post. "Women are like lemons, I love lemons!" I loved it so much, I had no choice but to write an entire fic about it!

~*~*~*~

Everyone knew that Eddie Munson was a weird kid. He had long hair, listened to music that was more screaming than singing, and never bent to fit any mold. So why would he conform to society’s boring sayings when he could make his own? Ever since he was a kid, he’s had a habit of constructing his own phrases and idioms. 

Sometimes it would be something close enough to the original idiom that no one would call him out on it. The phrase, “I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it” has become a common one amongst the boys of Hellfire. He used to say “he’d kill for less” but that seemed a little too brash in light of what occurred over Spring Break what with his murder accusation and innocent teens dying.  

Nevertheless, some of Eddie’s more outlandish sayings had worked their way into everyday speech for the Party. It wasn’t uncommon to hear one of the kids talking about the “devil kicking their kidneys” during physical exertion or mentioning how “neutral, and not even chaotically” people were when they bored them (a reference to Eddie’s least favorite moral alignment in D&D). However, the sayings always seemed stranger coming out of Lucas’ or even Dustin’s mouths than they did Eddie’s. 

The point is, everyone that has ever met Eddie knows that he can say some pretty off-the-wall things. However, Steve had never been privy to the sayings with Eddie’s odd twists until a random weekday afternoon spent getting high in his trailer. It all started because the weather was getting warmer. Eddie was supplying the weed so Steve brought refreshments for the both of them to enjoy. 

“Do you want some lemonade?” He asked him, his hands already passing him a bottle. 

Eddie nodded. “Well, you know what I always say. Men are like lemonade and I like lemonade.”

Then he took the bottle and a long gulp. 

Steve paused for a moment and just stared at Eddie. Was this a big coming out like it had been with Robin in the movie theater bathroom? What had Robin told him to say in this situation?

“Um, thank you for telling me. I’m honored that you trusted me enough to divulge that information about yourself and I accept you.”

Eddie turned to him with barely concealed panic in his eyes but that quickly turned to mirth upon hearing Steve’s reply. “That was the most rehearsed and scripted response I’ve ever heard. How’d you learn that, did you see it in a PSA?”

“No! Ro- my friend told me that’s what sh-they wished someone had said to he-them,” Steve stumbled. Holy shit, he almost outed Robin. That’s like the worst thing you can do to a friend!

Eddie looked at him fondly. “That’s adorable, Stevie. Also, I know about Robin.”

“What?! How do you know about Robin?”

“Birds of a feather, Steve. They flock together,” he commented wisely and took another drag of their shared joint. 

“Oh, that makes sense. That’s probably why I’m friends with you guys. You know, because I’m bi.” 

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes went wide and he took a sharp inhale which caused him to cough uncontrollably. Once his breathing started to return to normal, he choked, “bi?”

Steve nodded sagely, “yeah, bi. As in bisexual. That’s what you call it when you like both guys and girls.”

“I got that,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Just you? You’re the straightest person I’ve ever met.”

“Hey, don’t insult me! Just because I still like girls doesn’t minimize my attraction to guys. I’m going to tell Robin that you-”

“No, no, no! I’m not judging you, I’m just surprised. But uh, thank you for telling me.” Eddie leaned over the space between them and gave Steve’s shoulder an awkward pat. 

“Okay, what the hell was that?” Steve asked him in the bitchiest tone he could muster. “Give me a hug like a normal person.”

Eddie gave a long-suffering sigh but the grin on his face showed his jest. “If you wanted to get your hands on me, you should’ve just said so.” 

When Wayne walked in on his nephew and Steve Harrington making out on his couch just a few hours later, he couldn’t even say he was surprised. Scarred forever and washing his eyes out with soap? Yes. But not surprised.

Permanent tag list:@doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild

[banqanas]

HIGH&LOW EASTER EGGS: MERCY’S HOUSE

In another post, I highlighted that most graffiti in the movie’s backgrounds is a reference to Exile Tribe songs, but in this post I want to focus on easter eggs that’s actually related to the characters in the series.

In Mashii Takehiko’s character profile from the official website, it says:

Suzuran Boys High School 3rd Year student who is also known as Mercy. He lives in a small rundown apartment together with his mother in Toaru city. He has been best friends with Raoh ever since Jr High School and one of the few people Raoh can open up to. Academically smart, Mercy is more than capable to apply to a better school but decided to follow his instincts and enrolled in Suzuran with Raoh. Peculiar guys started gathering around the two, and before they realised, the elite Raoh Faction was formed. He is known as the calm and collected No.2 of the faction. His personality is alike to Housen’s Odajima. The two get along and sometimes exchange information with each other.

The picture above is the scene where we are introduced to Mercy’s home.

If you look closely, the room on the right is full with graffitis, and if you look closer, you can see Mercy’s name written on the walls.

TL note: One point breakthrough is something from Sun Tzu’s Art of War. It has no relevance whatsoever. The person who wrote it probably just wanted to write the most sophisticated phrase they knew and it’s not even the full phrase.

BUT!

In the next scene, we see that Mercy’s house is the one next door, 102.

Which brings the question, why are all those threats and graffitis written at the wrong house?

My personal headcanon is that the Mashii family originally lived in Room 101. They probably had some financial problems and started getting harassed for the owed money. So instead of directed to Mercy, the graffiti around their front door were probably threats for the Mashii family in general. At one point they decided to run away to a different city (or so they say), except that they just moved next door. Notice how they make it look deserted with random things and accumulated trash in front of the house.

I also think that the broken doorbell for 102 is a way to make outsiders doubt that anyone lives there and only Mercy’s the one who answers the door (in case their cover is blown, he could somehow manage whoever that comes).

But I don’t think that the ‘Die Mercy’ graffiti was written by the money lender, instead its probably done by a different party (someone who got their ass beaten by Mercy in the past) who just thinks that he still lives there.

Tl;dr: high&low real lores are stored in the background walls 👍

[tarysande]

On Grief. And On Friendship. On Memory. And Love.

When my grandmother died, we didn't have a traditional funeral. We didn't wear black. We didn't sit around, solemn and silent. We told stories. We ate food she would have liked and drank Bailey's with cream. We got to do it together, of course, and we got to cry and hug and mourn and laugh and sing.

I'm sure all of us have heard some version of the phrase "online friendships aren't REAL friendships." I know I have. I've never understood it, either. For me, in all my neurodiverse glory, online friendships are often MORE REAL. Where else can you meet people and immediately jump into all the things you have in common? All the shared loves and hates and hyperfixations? Where else can you just bypass small-talk and, as Anne of Green Gables would say, find bosom friends so quickly? I've met so many online.

I honestly don't remember when I met Sara/@dearophelia. When I look through my tags, I know it's been at least seven years. I'm certain it's been longer because she definitely had username changes. And I am total shit at remembering username changes. More than once, I've told myself I should keep a spreadsheet. I'm pretty sure I've known her almost as long as I've been on tumblr, and that's more than a decade.

When Sara got sick, I finally used that tumblr function that notifies you whenever a blog updates. I wasn't around tumblr as regularly, but I didn't want to miss anything Sara might say. I hoped that one day I'd get the notification that everything was clear, she was in remission.

I didn't. Today, I got what will be the final notification from her blog--@vhenadahls sharing the information that Sara passed away. That there wouldn't be anymore updates. No more reblogs. No more snarky comments in the tags or gushing comments in the tags.

If this were a room and everyone who loved Sara, who enjoyed her fanfic (with or without knowing the woman behind it!), who has listened to her playlists, who played ME3 multiplayer with her, who was in any way touched by her in a way that brought their lives joy, it would be so full. We would all have stories to share. We'd all have memories to relive.

This room would be decorated with labradorite and pink and fat birbs and cats. There would be so much music--Taylor Swift and Halsey and Florence and the Machine and Hozier and so many many others. There would be a million fabulous selfies on the walls of Sara's huge smile and her vulnerability and her bravery. There would be gaming knickknacks and D&D dice and tarot decks and crystals and magic and books on every surface. All her faves would be represented. And it would still only brush the surface of how vibrant she was and how deeply and enthusiastically she loved what she loved.

If this were a room where we could also add all the characters she created, whose stories so many of us loved ... well, it would have to be awfully big. Sara wrote a lot of stories for a lot of fandoms.

And if this were a room where we and her characters were gathered, but we opened the doors for all the characters and stories that Sara helped inspire, helped grow, encouraged and enabled, well, I know a whole lot of my characters and stories would be here, too. I'm sure I decided to create Rose Trevelyan because of some conversation Sara and I had where I was imagining Rose Vakarian-Shepard grown up.

Sara, I'm really sorry I didn't get to finish the Vakarian-Shepard stories before you left. Most writers write for themselves, sure, but often they also write for specific readers. Sara was always one of mine, but I don't think she knew it. I lived for her gushing tag-comments. I loved when she was always so quick to jump in with prompts.

I'm honored that I was someone with whom Sara shared her original fic work. (She also once shared an absolutely horrifying scene with Garrus and Shepard's clones that she cut from Nora's story because it was just TOO AWFUL. In fact, she shared it with me BECAUSE IT WAS SO AWFUL and she knew I'd appreciate it.) In my heart of hearts, I wanted Sara to finish that original story and publish it. I wanted us to be part of each other's group of writer-friends (you know, you always see them thanking each other in their books). Hell, I wanted to have a small press at some point just SO I could publish Sara's stories. I believed in her THAT MUCH.

I love Sara's stories. I love her playlists. I love her blog, with its hodgepodge of interests and loves. I love her imagination and creativity and attention to detail. I love that I can still visit that mind by reading the bounty of work she left behind.

I mean, she made me wholeheartedly buy into a relationship between Shepard's mom and ZAEED.

Sara was one of the constants in my online life over the last decade. Even if we hadn't chatted for a while, I always knew we could pick up again like no time had passed (thanks, ADHD). As I write this, there's a little chat circle on the bottom right of my tumblr screen with her avatar in it and I can't bear the thought of hitting that X button and never seeing it pop up again.

Sara struggled and loved and fought and overcame and breathed and was brave. Not just in the past few years, when she was sick. As long as I knew her. And she didn't let anything stop her. She snarled in the face of it all and wrote stories so beautiful they broke my heart and then pieced it back together again in the same paragraph.

I miss her. I will always miss her. But I'm so happy I got to know her as long as I did. She'll live on in my memories, in my stories, in the characters she helped inspire. She'll live on every time I look at my favorite tarot deck--she was the first person I yelled at when I bought it--and when I see fat birbs and cute-maybe-evil cats. And if that's not REAL friendship, real love, I don't know what is.

[cursedvibes]

Fic Writer Q & A!

Tagged by @voxofthevoid Thank you 🤗

How many wips do you have currently?

In terms of stuff I'm more or less actively working on with a proper concept (not just vague ideas) and what I plan to finish: 9

Which one are you finding the hardest to finish?

The final chapter of Stitches Across The Eye 😖 I recently got a comment asking when I'm gonna post it, since the last update was over a year ago...well... It's just that canon has thrown me for a loop with the new Jin lore and also TenKen and Pinchan are hogging my attention lately. It has kind of messed with what I had originally in mind for the end of that fic. I will get around to it eventually though and if it's the last thing I ever do!!

What does it usually look like when inspiration strikes for you?

I write 5-10k in one sitting until my brain is mush and I can't form a single coherent thought anymore. Otherwise, if I have an idea for a scene, dialogue or general theme while lying in bed at night, I write it down as detailed as possible on my phone in whatever WIP document it fits. Thankfully Google Docs exists as an app too 🙏

Do you curate playlists for each fic or is your process different?

I have a playlist for Stitches, but I don't use it anymore. I prefer to listen to ambient-ish music to get into and keep myself in the mood I need for a certain fic. I have a whole YouTube playlist with 1h+ ambient compilations and whatever feels right for the fic or scene will play on repeat while I write. For example:

This is what I listened to a lot for my Pinchan fics

works well for TenKen fics

Chance Encounter

And the Official Prison Realm Lofi often fits as well like for example for Stitches

Do you go balls to the wall and write as you go or are you more organized?

I used to go balls to the wall. I did plan my fics, what would happen when, but I would only do that in my head and then write the fic from start to finish like I imagined it. No jumping around and only writing down what has been mostly solidified (excluding edits of course). Recently, I've gone to writing outlines in my docs first and then start writing, while deleting the passages in my notes I already finished. It has the advantage that I don't have to remember as much, I can add spontaneous ideas into my outline and don't have to hope I remember them when I get to that point in the fic and I write much faster when I have the bullet points further down as a reference. It's especially helpful for phrasing. And it's a nice feeling to see the bullet points slowly shrink, which makes it easier to finish WIPs even if I'm stuck at one scene. Has resulted in me getting more WIPs and jumping around between them more though.

Tagging (if you want): @hxhhasmysoul @kaitakushi @yukisdomain

[samhaft]

the melodies on hazbin's soundtrack are absurdly catchy, songs like poison, loser baby, the list goes on rly; do you have any advice on topline writing for musicals like this, or have a process for it? do you start with a melody first then add lyrics or vice versa? (and also do you talk more about this specifically in the online studio class?)

So I do talk about this a little in my class: studio.com/samhaft (shameless self plug!), but that’s 7 hours of content so I’ll try to condense this to a few paragraphs, sorry it’s still a lot:

The way I’ve learned to noodle melodies is by FIRST finding a vamp / chord progression / riff I’m happy with, and then either scatting over it until I’m happy, or if I have a phrase or phrases I know I want in the song, try to work THOSE into a pleasing melodic shape over some guitar chords, and go from there. Something I keep in mind with melodies like this is I want to be surprising - but in order to be surprising, I need to be familiar. In order to defy expectations, you need to create expectations. So, first off, do not try to be too melodically clever. If you’re doing something too out-there, there won’t be any expectations of where the music is going, that you can then defy to pique interest. It’s too amorphous to be hook-y and memorable! But if you’re TOTALLY conventional, you’re boring. So create a foundation of familiarity you can then use to surprise the listener. That’s fundamentally what “catchy” is - something memorable that sticks out of something conventional, like a hand-hold on a smooth rock climbing wall.

And generally, the first catchy melodic phrase I stick to tends to NOT be the chorus (which is in opposition to the ‘chorus-first’ process pop songwriters generally teach). I like making my choruses feel like conclusions to thought-processes, punchlines to setups, etc - so I always try to build out the song semi-chronologically, to arrive at the chorus in a logical way, both message-wise, and melody-wise. This also means that after finding my first catchy melody, I need to find something even catchier to anchor the chorus! It ensures my first good idea is never my best idea. In fact, in my class I actually ended up throwing a song away and restarting (sorry for the spoiler) because I outdid my original idea by so much that I had to start a new song around the new much catchier concept.

Poison, Loser Baby, More Than Anything, Whatever It Takes, Hell Is Forever, were all written in this way - ‘writing your way TO the chorus’ - which is pretty central to my class.

There ARE songs in Hazbin that start with a chorus, like It Starts With Sorry, but even then, the chorus has an internal logic that takes a setup - “it starts with sorry, that’s your foot in the door, one simple sorry, spoken straight from your core” - and brings it to its melodic and logical conclusion - “the path to forgiveness is a twisting trail of hearts, but sorry is where it starts.” That song doesn’t even have a verse! It’s chorus bridge chorus!

There are also songs WITHOUT what you’d traditionally call a chorus, such as ‘argument songs’ Hell’s Greatest Dad or Respectless, which are designed to build tension and intensity to a fever pitch before an abrupt end or interruption, or songs with MOVEMENTS instead of choruses, often in ensemble numbers, like You Didn’t Know or Finale, which have several moments that are ‘chorus-like’ but all different.