#and it wasn't even the right answer

[pookietsunoda]

Lewis on Grill the Grid today lmao

[andry-di]

I wanted to try to add a gif for a while. It's still something I need to work on.

[seeminglyseph]

Apollo's entire vibe in God Games feels like "Dad Said I Had to Be Here" and I feel like that's so Golden Child of him

[chirpsythismorning]

This just hit me

"With selfless hearts--" !?!?!?!?

Mike is literally being framed as the heart here, and while that is up to debate for a lot of people, it doesn't change the fact that within the story he is narratively given this role by Will and it is even reinforced at this very moment before his monologue to El.

While I do fully believe this line is meant to hold dual meaning spanning multiple characters in the finale, who are capable of being the heart, having hearts, and having been through similar anguish that revolved around them being selfless i.e. Max, Eddie, etc., it already exists as a verbalized concept for Mike. It's who he is (in Will's eyes), and in this moment, they are choosing to highlight that.

And so does that mean this is a 'selfless heart' moment for Mike? Is Mike here caring more about others wants and needs than his own? Why would telling his girlfriend he loves her be selfless? Unless it's what he thinks she wants and needs, but not what he wants and needs?...

[howtodisappearcompletelyand]

20/10 stars little guy

[notbecauseofvictories]

[ Open House Chicago 2024 — All Saints' Episcopal Church, Dank Haus German Cultural Center, St. Mary of the Lake, Riviera Theater, Wilson Avenue Theater]

[not-poignant]

I was surprised to hear that Ice Plague is a lesser read story from you! It’s one of my favorites and something I re-read often. I treasure that little family. I’ve never loved these particular characters more, they’re all my favorite versions of them. It’s such a beautiful and brilliantly plotted book!

Oh thank you anon!!

Tbh I think there were a few things working against it:

It came at the end of an already long series and there's more drop off the longer a series goes for, because it can only keep the people reading it, and doesn't attract new readers (though it attracted a few who didn't like Gwyn/Augus!)

A lot of people just didn't want to leave Gwyn/Augus behind and/or didn't like Mosk/Eran (I learned my lesson there)

It was actually written a lot more like a book series because I was writing them with a view to publishing down the track, which means of the whole Fae Tales Verse series, The Ice Plague is the one most ready to go directly to paperback/hardback etc. But I actually think that style of like epic fantasy storytelling is a bit less compatible with AO3 serials.

I wrote less cliffhangers. I now write a lot more cliffhangers (for all people hate them, they just do create more connection to a story as long as they're breaks and it's not constant).

I still love The Ice Plague. At the time I got really disheartened with it, and then I reread it and I was like 'wait this is fucking good though???' - I also think this and the final epilogue give Gwyn and Augus the happiest ending they could ever hope for.

In terms of writing quality, it's the story I'd publish first in the Fae Tales Verse even if it's out of order. It was the thing that was like 'shit, I can do this, and I can do this pretty well actually.' But I didn't know that at the time, because I was watching like... every metric of engagement dwindling over the years.

I'm afraid of this happening again with Underline the Red and Underline the Silver, but...I'll just have to suck it up and figure it out if it does happen! And in the meantime, I don't regret writing those stories, I'm just sad that it all fell out the way that it did. There are some of us who really love TIP, and I toast to like all of you, because whether you found it during the series or after the series, it's kept me going! <333

[mysticalcats]

how come in cats 2019 victoria only asks jenny why she wants to go to the heaviside layer. and then doesn't ask anyone else. i wanna know why tf skimble wanted to go

[blackknight-100]

More Apollo fic excerpts for you all, because I'm on a roll:

Looking at Father is hard. Apollo has learnt this early on, but Apollo is also either incorrigibly foolish, or insurmountably stubborn. Either way, he tries and tries and tries; the truth is his, and he will look into the King's eyes while he gets it.

Lightning crackles around Zeus's lashes, fine white scars upon his dark skin. He sighs unhappily, and somewhere around Cretan Ida, rain-black clouds are blown away. "Why do you ask that, child?"

"Hekate thinks it is unjust."

"Did she say that to you?"

"No."

Apollo does not mention that she said that to his sister and his mother, because that was not what Father asked. He does not speak of her grief either - the King is a forge of hot power thrumming with ill-supressed rage, a rush of deadly cloudstrike and bitter ozone under his tongue - and Apollo is... apprehensive, if not afraid.

Zeus sighs again. The rain clouds return, and drought is averted. His beard droops, and the riot of spiked hair curls into itself. "It is fate," he says. "There had to be a safe place for you to be born."

"And fate is greater than justice, then?"

"You know the Fates. You know Fate is greater than everything."

Apollo says nothing. In the following silence, father and son stare at each other, picking away at the other's minds.

As always, Father breaks first. "I could not lose you," he says. "You are to be a great god."

Perhaps Apollo should be kinder, perhaps Apollo should be blind. But he is not. Here too the Fates are unfair - he can see Ares' quiet pain, he can see Hera's righteous rage. And his memory is terrible in its divinity - a hundred thousand words of fatherly love will not wipe away all those days of his mother's tears.

Or perhaps it is not fatherly love at all. Apollo is to be a great god, a mighty cog in the automaton that is Fate, and like Hephaestus, Zeus its builder cares little for who the cogs are, or where they come from. They must only exist.

Or perhaps it is just him - Apollo, the Destroyer. Under his hands is the ruin of a hundred women, and then some more, and Hekate is one notch among many others. Perhaps Apollo blames fruitlessly, for it is his father who chased his aunt, and his birth that holds her down. Perhaps his father loves them - him and Artemis and Mother Leto, and has only sought to turn fate in their favour through his ruthlessness. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. So many chances, so many answers.

Apollo looks at Father, and does not believe even one.

"I see," he says. "Thank you for your time, Your Majesty."

Zeus-King frowns. He holds out a hand as if to call out, then drops it and turns away. "You may leave," he says, and Apollo does.

[hislittleraincloud]

dude can you just stop using the wenclair tag? like its annoying seeing these kind of posts. some of us are just here to see the fun dynamics, other’s interpretation, arts etc. and i get that you’re against it or whatever, so maybe like leave these tags alone? stop abusing the tags if you don’t like it

The last anon I just answered didn't even have the Wenclair tag even though the anon mentioned it. But thanks for reminding me to go back and remedy that. 🥹

Look, I get it, you don't read anything that goes against your little echo chamber, so you missed what I fucking said in the next to last one that WAS tagged Wenclair:

It's not my fault that you can't stand criticism of the novel or the ship within the constraints of the novel and fandom. I had never had a problem with any Wenclair fanon until y'all creamed yourselves over this novelization. I read it (slowly, for me, so I could catalog each instance of fuckery with canon in my brain that I could), and that is what I have a problem with.

I've always supported Wednesday and Enid the same way M&G support it, since accepting and building friendship was what Morticia had stated in the beginning in the limo she'd hoped for her daughter/what Wednesday had stated she was extremely resistant to throughout ("I like being an island...a well fortified one surrounded by sharks."). Seems like no one cares to comprehend how wild a jump from a strict antisocial loner who hates people to Spanish-spewing yandere "Willa" in the span of four weeks actually is, and that's how fanon can be*...only now Mejia's injected 100% fanon [see the defiling of "Woe What a Night" for the worst of it] into the canon that millions of people around the world saw and y'all are calling it canon (when it is not, despite being published through the studio). In my last real fandom I participated in there was a screenplay "tie up" in lieu of a fourth season published by Showtime and written by Neil Jordan himself that was roundly rejected by fans as canon because it was so out of character for our main characters from what we had seen for three seasons. Same goes for the Jack Thorne's Cursed Child nonsense in Potter (even Potter actors have called it fan fiction).

TLDR: It's not abusing a tag if the tag is relevant to the post's discussion. Grow some skin and learn how to deal ("cope" like you kids love to say) with reasonable criticisms.

[ghost-proofbaby]

I would love a Getting to Know Eddie with your coffee shop blues Eddie. (I’ll let Abi ask for Maroon). 😘

(oh i don’t think i could tell abi much more about maroon eddie than i already have. the space under my desk when im writing maroon literally has her name on it <3)

alright. so. COFFEE SHOP BLUES EDDIE. first and foremost, that eddie is from my purely self indulgent barista!au for those of you who don’t know. for legal reasons, it’s totally not based on true experiences or a very real company. totally not. for legal reasons. but, the entire premise is this eddie entirely untouched from the upside down — non-canon compliance so we can be happy for once baby ! — and just playing around with who he is without all that. he gets the job as a barista, he’s a damn pessimist, and- well, i liked to play around with what would happen if he was the grumpiest barista to ever exist and got reality checked by a sunshine-incarnate barista. and, spoiler alert, the boy would probably melt. he does melt.

my inspiration is drawn entirely from uh… well… can i have a lawyer if i admit this? nah im just kidding he’s based on my own experiences! and contrary to what plenty of people have said to me (if i had a nickel every time said they imagine me as reader i’d be far richer than i am which makes me so 😭), eddie is the character based around me. i think he’d react very similarly to how i do most of the time at work. being grumpy, being so easily inconvenienced by every small thing, always huffing and puffing and wanting to be better. and i think reader is what i’d like to be. at the end of the day, it’s just a nice way to romanticize life, i guess. <3

my favorite headcanon that i’ve never shared in the story is that everyone actually finds that he’s very good at his job. it’s emphasized he isn’t necessarily friends with the other baristas, and there’s a whole lot of him internally comparing himself to the people he thinks do the job better (*cough* reader *cough*), but that whole “i can do better. i have to do better” mentality has led him to being quite good at the job actually. he puts himself down, says he isn’t that good, etc. but he is. customers like that feline grumpiness (the girls that come in regularly for frappucinos in the afternoon are always secretly hoping he’s there, definitely living their ‘i can fix him’ fantasy despite reader already having set sail on that boat), his coworkers admire him albeit they get a lil scared of him due to resting bitch face, and all that. he makes a mean fucking cappuccino. his drinks always just taste better. he’s just good. he’ll never admit it, but damn is he good at his job.

on a casual day, this man is living in comfy clothes. big band tees, plaid pajama pants or sweats. the only time he puts on jeans these days is when he works. which, i mean, listen — he works often. he lives his days by what shift he has, not by days of the week. weekends are nonexistent to him. he’s earned some damn comfort when he’s just at home, ya know? (also, most of his clothes that aren’t graphic tees or comfy pants just stink of coffee these days. ugh.)

his favorite food is probably the cake pops at work. he’s a sweet tooth fiend with them. someone accidentally breaks one when opening the packages? oh no !! he’ll take that off their hands. all of his free food mark outs? 50% cake pops. he’s on food? he’s definitely accidentally bagging and slipping one or two off to the side for himself. sometimes coworkers will try to convince him when he’s on the food position to slip them a free cake pop as well, and every time, he’s flipping them the bird and a quick “steal on your own time, bud”. (unless it’s reader. unless it’s sunshine. then, he’s caving, handing over the birthday cake pop he just marked out for himself without second thought. even if he rolls his eyes as he does it — he’d give her the world if she just asked).

his family situation is pretty close to canon — wayne. and obviously he has hellfire, he has corroded coffin, but all of those are just… small things. he’s finally graduated in this universe, so hellfire doesn’t meet as often. corroded coffin’s members are still in their senior year, so sometimes studying for a calculus test is overriding band practice for them. which i mean, was a bummer and led to him needing a distraction like a part time job (also — money) but it’s all good now, cause he gets to bug Sunshine on his days off when he’s bored. they’ve definitely exchanged numbers, and they’re definitely sending each other an obligatory dumb meme a day. sorry, i don’t make the rules.

he likes pop music. don’t ever ask him about it, he denies it, but Sunshine got him into all those radio hits. he’ll find himself humming along to the radio at work constantly too. and, the one time he and Sunshine worked a very rare, LITERALLY only happened once close together, they definitely were belting out britney spears’ “hit me baby one more time”, dancing around the closed stores and eddie using the mop as a mic while Sunshine tried to stock up all the cups. the shift on duty was unamused, to say the least.

he’s pretty pessimistic in all avenues, but there’s something deep inside of him that’s just a bit hopeless romantic. especially after meeting Sunshine. he listens to her prattle about her romance books all day, and he hates the fact that he finds himself smiling at some of those different scenarios she’s gushing about. but it’s cute, okay? besides, it’s only giving him more ideas about how to wow his favorite barista. sex, on the other hand, he’s still pretty bland on. he’s had one or two one night stands, names he’s forgotten at the Hideout after shows, and he’s not really got the energy to be some sex-crazed fuckboy. listening to his coworkers’ hookup stories and relationship problems work pretty well to remind him he could be doing far worse (but if anyone were to ask him what he thought of Sunshine in that context? oh. oh the poor boy. the scary dog facade fades, and his ears have never been pinker as he’s stuttering about having to grab something from the back that he just stocked. he’s just grateful she never seems to have her own escapades to talk about — he probably wouldn’t survive the world-ending jealousy that would cloud his vision.)

pessimistic. so so pessimistic.

a couple months ago, he would have said his room. alone. or practicing with cc, on his guitar. or behind his dm screens, watching as his little sheep panicked over the latest twist he’s revealed for his current campaign.

but now? maybe he’s just gone soft, but the first place he thinks of is a rainy afternoon in the back of his van, his head in Sunshine’s lap as they listen to the slight drizzle bounce off the roof. he swears if he closes his eyes, he can still feel her fingers against his scalp.

---

JO. JO. I DON'T HAVE THE ORIGINAL POST FOR THIS. I DON'T KNOW WHAT PARAGRAPH IS ANSWERING WHAT PROMPTS. but honestly, even now that i'm free of the siren, i wanna post this. i love prattling on about our little grumpy barista. i luv him.

[in-need-of-another-name]

am i the only one who's Not Normal about the void – dark, real void, tinged purple – surrounding the island in the Ender Cup... how people (can choose to) fall through it, down and down... between games... like another void between another set of games, in which its participants are constantly falling through in between...

martyn's life series lore in mcc real

[twopoppies]

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[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 11

content warnings: vague medical care, narrator who does not realize he was a victim of violence, unreliable narrator who believes in the divine right of a monarchy, fantasy discrimination against angels, I swear this is actually much less political than these warnings make it seem

prev chapter | masterlist

The thing about angel wings was that humans didn't know much about them. Prince Ryan had done some research, early on, just in case, he'd said. From the look on this doctor's face, though, I didn't think she had done the same.

The other thing about angel wings was that I didn't know much about them either.

I wasn't an angel angel, of course. Not like the ones from the bible with eyes all over themselves, begging people not to be afraid of them. I was the type of angel that hadn’t been too different from humans, way back in the early days. Back when people paid egregious amounts of money for the ability to fly. Humans and angels were only separated by a surgery worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, still all called humans, until the scientists had learned to change the genetic code of children before they were born.

Wings got a lot less valuable once kids could be born with them. It didn’t help once people couldn’t control if a kid was born with them or not.

“Angels” was a nickname first, and it spread, although I never was sure if it was just the wings or if it was the idea that angels would come to the earth while the world was ending. It didn’t matter. Everyone thought that the world was ending, and maybe it had. But people still ate and slept and laughed and cried, and the world went on.

And once the angels started to show differences from humans, humans stopped caring to know about them.

I knew very little about my wings besides the fact that they weren’t the wings of a bird. Prince Ryan, while in one of his better moods, had explained some of it to me once. Bats were mammals, like humans—easier to attach, easier to maintain. Of course, the prince was human, and I was not, and I would never be able to have his level of understanding with matters like these.

There were humans in this castle, though, that also didn’t seem to have his level of understanding.

The doctor that Kieran had brought me to had taken one look at me, smiled politely, and left me alone to talk to Kieran outside the door. “Just stay put for a minute, sugar,” she’d said, voice strained, a southern accent bleeding through her words as she left me to avoid eye contact with the guard who’d had to help me walk down the hall.

Her voice was less strained when she’d returned, but she still didn’t seem pleased that I was there. I shrunk back onto the cot I’d been left on.

“Onyx, Ma’am.”

“Alright, Onyx, that’s good. Do you mind telling me what happened to your arm?”

“It got hit by a sword, I think, Ma’am.” My memories of the night before were hazy, but it was a sword, right? My arm had been… it’d gotten hurt when we were in a hallway, in an endeavor to get us out of that hallway. And Prince Cardan had pushed me in the way. Maybe.

“Mkay. Looks like you got lucky and it just nicked you, hun. Won’t even need stitches. I’ve just gotta disinfect it and bandage it. Would that be alright?”

I nodded jerkily, not expecting the question. Prince Ryan had told me what he was doing to me, sometimes, but not like this. Dr. Charlotte had been smiling the whole time, soft and kind. Prince Cardan smiled at me sometimes, but it was always due to amusement on his part. Of course, that was his right, because I was a servant, but Dr. Charlotte had been smiling as if it were for my benefit. She’d asked before touching my arm. That wasn’t… how people were supposed to act about angels and servants.

“I’m afraid I can’t do much about your wing, sweetheart,” she said once my arm was bandaged, and I nodded. I’d expected that much. “I haven’t ever worked with angel wings before, and I wouldn’t want to make anything worse because of my lack of experience. But I can find someone who knows more about it, alright?”

I nodded. Dr. Charlotte seemed like the type to tolerate questions, probably. “May I ask a question, ma’am?”

“Sure, hun.”

“Why do you want to fix my wing?”

She blinked, and then laughed lightly. “Well, I’m not quite sure what you mean. I mean, I think everyone should get medical assistance that caters to them. You don’t mean to give up on that wing just because I wouldn’t know where to start with it, right? We’ll find someone else. Do you not want it fixed?”

I frowned. “Good servants don’t have wants, ma’am, other than serving the royal family. Her Majesty has always had my best interests in mind, including when my wing was broken to prevent me from flying. And I don’t have a preference, of course, but I don’t know if she wants it fixed.”

“Her Majes- Are you talking about Lucia?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dr. Charlotte’s willingness to refer to the queen with her first name was dangerous, to say the least, and I tried not to let my heart rate spike.

“Okay, well, I’m not sure if she mentioned this to you, but she hasn’t ruled a country for the better part of the last decade. Last night was a pitiful attempt to get the country back under her control. Bless her heart, she might have actually believed it would work.”

I stared at Dr. Charlotte. I wasn’t supposed to contradict the things said by people who ranked higher than me, which included everyone, but holy shit. Holy shit. Talking about the queen that way was treason of some kind, without a doubt, and also flat out wrong. Sixteen generations—the monarchy had been theirs for sixteen generations. “Are you sure you aren’t misinformed, Ma’am?” I settled on eventually.

“Quite sure. Have you ever actually seen Lucia with any of her subjects?”

No, but I wasn’t a traitor and I knew that I was supposed to take the royal family’s word on things. I was a good servant and I would act accordingly. Except-

Except I had just left a room of the entire royal family, tied up together. Except we had murdered three guards to get into this castle, and we’d lived in a house with three bedrooms. Except that the royal family had a total of two servants working for them, and neither of us had been allowed to leave the house.

“Her Majesty’s family has been ruling the country for sixteen generations,” I said weakly.

“Yeah, well, no one wanted Lucia to rule because she’s a dick and hates everyone. So we did something about it. I can’t get you to start hating her—that’s up to you—but you should probably know the facts, and the facts are that she’s not a queen and she never will be again.”

And that was- not my decision to make. Nothing was ever my decision to make. Of course political affairs like this wouldn’t make sense to me; I was an angel and a servant, and my only job was to do what I was told.

That was what Prince Ryan had said, even. Do what they tell you. Don’t get hurt. Even if this Dr. Charlotte was wrong about things, I was supposed to do what I was told.

“Hey,” Dr. Charlotte said softly, and I glanced back up at her. “I’m sorry for overwhelming you, dear. Now that your arm’s all fixed up, Kieran’s got some questions for you, if that’s okay.”

Do what they tell you. Don’t get hurt.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

~

Taglist: @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump @risk606

[megumi-fm]

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[cranberrymoons]

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