#and people with questionable reading skills

[emtheanxiousdragon]

I have a few questions you can ask yourself if you’re feeling directionless:

Who in my social circle needs the most help in this second-term environment?

What sort of skills do I have to make my world better?

What has worked against this regime in the past, and what makes things worse?

I plucked this image from an article I read last night discussing what to do if Trump was elected. There are four paths you can follow, as listed in the image: Protect People, Defend Civic Institutions, Disrupt And Disobey, or Build Alternatives.

I know I’ll be building alternatives by creating relief in the form of art and diving into self sustainability and better practices to make a cultural change to the people around me.

Don’t give up. These guys always fall eventually. Keep going. Find a task and stick with it.

if you're waking up like me thinking "where do we even go from here?"

you:

build community & involve yourself locally

learn self sustainability skills

choose kindness

protect others & yourself

join or build a mutual aid group and/or network

find time for small joys (the arts, cooking a meal you love, spending time with loved ones, etc.)

[ataleofcrowns]

Chapter Progress [NOV/06]

Hey all, it's been a while since I've written one of these 🍂

I've been posting regular previews on my Patreon, but a proper update was long overdue! As a refresher, my last update was this one, and I've got lots more to update you on now that I'm further along!

I've struggled a lot with this chapter and have been trying to wrangle it into shape as best I can, and I'm happy (and relieved) to say that I can finally give you an estimated release date: you can expect CH12 to be uploaded in December this year.

I won't be putting a specific date on it yet, since it could be anywhere from early December to late December depending on how much progress I make in November, but I'll let you know! Now, onto specifics.

The Main Plot

I'm currently balancing out LI specific content in the main plot! Regardless of what you chose in regards to Kham and the peri trader, players will be spending some time with D and X to make up for their absence in CH10 at the beginning of this chapter, and I've really missed writing their dynamic with each other as well as the Crown.

I genuinely can't decide which branch is my favorite. Meeting with Kham directly gives so much juicy verbal sparring and tension between not only her and the Crown but her and D and X as well. But meeting directly with the peri trader let me dig more into the worldbuilding, explore the city a bit, and have some more lighthearted shenanigans with D and X too.

I'll add some previews here for both routes that I've also already shared for people on the Patreon. Here's a little excerpt for people meeting with Kham:

“There is one thing I have been wondering, princess,” you say as you stare back into her eyes, watching the way the orange orbs of light flicker like flames. “When you first arrived here, you were accompanied by a retinue of guards. Whatever happened to them?” Kham does not raise her brows at you, exactly, but something similar to the motion as the wood above her eyes arches upwards with a stiff creaking sound. “They are not merely my guards, they are my servants first and foremost. Naturally, they run errands for me.” “What kinds of errands?” “Surely you do not think I would fetch all I require by myself?” She appears amused by the line of questioning rather than offended. “They trade with the peri merchants in your city on my behalf. Although, calling it trade is perhaps not accurate, as I hold the right to lay claim on their supplies whenever I please. They are representatives of my mother, after all.” You consider the explanation, but nothing about it seems notable or inconsistent so far. “So you have never dealt with this peri trader I wish to meet with yourself?” “Of course not.” She smiles, her wooden mouth briefly pressing together. “That would be beneath me.” “A shame,” $xname muses casually from beside you, contrasting the sharp look in their eyes. “We had hoped you might have some insight to share.” “As much insight as you are willing to offer me regarding this flower you seek,” Kham returns, her smile still in place. “The blue siren, yes? A rather strange fixation…” You feel the urge to tense, but withhold yourself from it by taking a slow, relaxed breath. All the rigorous physical training you have underwent over the course of the past month is already showing its benefits: you feel more aware and in control over your body, able to maintain your composure. A necessary skill when dealing with someone like Kham, as conversing with her feels like a dance of sorts. The two of you are watching each other’s steps, waiting for the other to slip.

And here's the excerpt for if you choose to meet with the peri trader:

You manage to make it through the marketplace, finally arriving at a large building with an open front, wrapping around the corner of the street. Tables and shelves are lined with various flowers and plants, perused by a few passing customers. This appears to be the peri trader’s shop, signaled by the sign at the front that reads Eshkar’s Garden. Eshkar being the name of the peri trader in question. Most of the flora on display you recognize, if not by the labeled names then by sight alone, but several look entirely new to you. Pale white flowers whose hanging bulbs pulse with light when a customer brushes against its leaves; bleeding vines wrapped around a miniature roofed trellis atop a tall table, its crimson flowers slowly dripping down pink juice caught by bowls below; a tall flower with only two black petals, large and pointed, that nearly startle you when they snap together several times in sharp, cracking sounds, almost as if the flower were clapping. IF CROWN IS INTELLIGENT Momentarily forgetting about your intended purpose in being here, you approach the clapping flower with curiosity, wondering what set it off. Sure enough, you see dead and decomposing flies of various sorts collected at the center of its bulb as you lean over to peer inside, taking care to avoid leaning in too close lest your nose get caught between the aggressive petals. Does it catch and eat small insects? How fascinating. You glance at the labeling of the flower, its name fittingly given as ‘black ovation’. IF CROWN IS INTUITIVE Eyes drawn by the visual spectacle of the white flowers, you find yourself wandering over to its shelf, glancing at the labeling that reads ‘stardrops’. The bulbs look ordinary at first glance, but sure enough, when you reach out to touch its petals, the flower begins to glow like you saw before. A ring of light travels up its stem, through the petals to the very ends, where it erupts into tiny little golden sparks. Hence the name, you suppose. Unable to stop yourself, you touch the flower again, mesmerized by the light show, until you notice a shop attendee frowning at you from nearby. Feeling scolded, you quickly pull your hand away and offer an apologetic smile.

Lots of fun going on in both routes! I don't envy you for having to make this choice lol.

Aside from this big branch, the main plot will converge for everyone again in the latter half of the chapter, where the Crown gets do to some more typical Crown things: hearing public petitions! They'll contain 2 smaller scenes where your character will hear out some citizen concerns, which will let you rack up reputation points with either the public or the nobility, and 1 major scene that affects a future plot point.

Not gonna spoil these since I've already talked so much about everything else regarding this chapter, so this will have to remain a surprise ✨

The Romances and Friendships

While the start of the chapter is X and D focused, if you have a specific (platonic) LI you want to spend more time with as buddies and perhaps get a little relationship advice, you'll have that opportunity at the start of CH12! I've had to write 12 variations in total for each friendship scene, which was a lot of work, but completely worth it.

Some LI routes also have big additional differences depending on if you have a low or high romance (such as A and R), while it matters a little bit less for the others for the time being (such as D and X). So if you screwed up on D or X's romances and have a low status, you're mostly in the clear from immediate consequences… for now.

Here's a little excerpt, taken from a playthrough of a Crown who has a high romance with A and chooses R's friendship scene:

Something like mischief gleams in $rname’s eyes as $rthey looks at you. “I’ve noticed you and $aname seem especially close nowadays.” You shift a little on the couch, averting your gaze to avoid $rname’s eyes as you strike a casual tone. “Do we?” “Mhm.” When you do glance over at $rname, you find $rthem studying $rtheir nails, and you begin to relax as you think it was just an idle remark. Until $rthey adds, “All the hand-holding underneath the table is endearing, I must admit. Especially since the two of you seem to think you’re being subtle about it.” IF CROWN IS RESERVED Heat flushes up your neck at being seen through so easily, remembering breakfast earlier that morning where $aname’s fingers hooked around yours beneath the table. “We were just… we’re not…” $rname looks up from $rtheir nails to grin at you. “There’s no need to look so embarrassed! I’m happy for you. The two of you seem well-suited for each other.” Trying to move past your flustered state, you clear your throat. “You think so?” “I’ve never seen $aname so at ease as when you’re around,” $rname considers, eyes narrowing with teasing and fondness both. “You look more unburdened with $athem near, as well.” IF CROWN IS FLIRTATIOUS You almost laugh at the remark and give it away completely, only managing to keep it in at the last moment and grinning back at $rname instead. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” $rname looks up from $rtheir nails with a sly smile. “No? What a shame. I was going to say how well-suited the two of you are for each other.” That catches your attention, your playfulness easing into something more sincere. “Really?” “I’ve never seen $aname so at ease as when you’re around,” $rname considers, eyes narrowing with teasing and fondness both. “You look more unburdened with $athem near, as well.”

This scene aside, CH12 will also contain another dedicated romance scene with your LI, dealing with some of the fallout from last chapter whether good or bad. If your romance is high, you'll be coasting- except maybe for D romancers, who are in Pining Hell either way haha.

If your romance is low, though, prepare for some delicious angst 🙏🏼

That's all I've got for now! Thank you all so much for your patience and support as always, especially for how long I've been making you all wait. You're the best 💖

[isaadore]

OFF THE GRID LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing lewis hamilton x streamer!reader

SUMMARY as a successful twitch streamer, you’ve built up a following of dedicated fans. among them are carlos sainz and fernando alonso, whom you’ve known forever. but after an invitation to the paddock, things get interesting when you meet lewis hamilton, someone you’ve had a secret crush on for years. word count 0.7k words

warnings fluff, mentions of age gap

note requested!

MAIN MASTERLIST LH44 MASTERLIST

STREAMING ON TWITCH had been an unexpected career path, but it worked. Between gaming, chatting, and hosting surprise appearances from Carlos Sainz and Fernando Alonso, your channel has grown into something special. They’d become good friends, and you’d gotten used to their teasing and the easy bond you shared on camera. Still, you hadn’t mentioned the one secret crush lingering in the background: Lewis Hamilton.

It wasn’t the most realistic crush, maybe, but there was something about him. His confidence and undeniable skill drew you in. Not to mention, he was much older than you. You were sure he didn’t even know you existed.

Then one day, you were mid-stream with Carlos when he casually dropped the invitation that changed everything.

"Why don't you come to the race in Spain?" he asked with a grin, reading through the chat that was going wild over the idea. "I’ll get you a pass. You could see what it's really like instead of just watching on TV."

The chat cheered him on, throwing in all-caps encouragement, so with a laugh, you agreed. But as the race weekend crept closer, the nerves hit. Going into the paddock felt surreal; it wasn’t just about Carlos and Fernando; it was also about Lewis. There was a chance, however small, you might actually meet him.

The paddock buzzed with energy and attention. As you walked in, cameras flashed, and you felt the weight of curious eyes on you, but Carlos's warm welcome helped you relax. He showed you around, introducing you to drivers and team members until, eventually, you found yourself standing outside the Mercedes garage.

And there he was: Lewis Hamilton. He turned, noticing Carlos and then you, his gaze soft and curious. You took a breath and forced yourself to stay calm.

"Hey, Carlos," he greeted, and then his eyes shifted to you, that famous smile flickering to life. “And this must be your friend?”

Carlos introduced you, but you could barely focus, watching as Lewis’s expression turned to something closer to intrigue. You found yourself talking, laughing, and answering his questions as the minutes blurred by. It felt... easy. Unforced. There was a depth to him that surprised you, and you were startled by how comfortable you felt like you hadn’t just met the guy.

After the race, you ended up exchanging numbers, something you’d hardly dared imagine at the start of the weekend. Yet Lewis had insisted, his tone casual but his expression unmistakably genuine.

Over the next few weeks, you exchanged messages, keeping it light at first. He asked about your streaming, watched a few clips, and soon enough, he was showing up in the chat from time to time, keeping his profile low but always watching. When he finally asked if you’d want to meet up for coffee during a break in his schedule, it took all your self-control to play it cool.

At the café, conversation flowed easily again, and by the end, you found yourself wondering if he felt it too. You were aware of the age gap, and no doubt others would be too. But if it bothered Lewis, he didn’t show it.

“I know there’s some extra attention that might come with this,” he admitted over coffee, glancing up from his cup. “But for what it’s worth… I’d like to keep seeing you.”

You paused, the weight of his words settling in. “Are you sure? You know people will probably have something to say about it.”

“I’m not concerned with what people think,” he said simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “If you’re not, that is.”

Once your relationship went public, the inevitable comments rolled in. Age gap, rumours, endless speculation; the internet did its thing, but over time, people grew used to seeing you around. Carlos and Fernando both stood by you, treating it as nothing more than the natural next step, while your fans cheered you on, and even a few critics gradually quieted down.

Though life moved forward, now with race weekends as a regular fixture, the best moments were the quiet ones; streaming from a hotel room after the race, laughing at Lewis’s occasional surprise appearances, and sharing conversations with him that no one else got to see.

In the end, you knew it was real because it was just the two of you talking about everything and nothing, just as you always had.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ LH44 MASTERLIST

[mc-cookies]

Objectionable

(An Ace Attorney-inspired custom Trait for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, an excellent indie tabletop RPG by the good folks over at @anim-ttrpgs)

Once per Scene, when this Investigator proves that another character is lying or hiding relevant information, they gain 1 Investigation Point and a +1 Contextual Bonus on subsequent Interpersonal rolls to uncover further details about that untruth. During these lines of questioning, if another character finds a flaw in their logic, the Investigator takes a Composure roll with a +1 modifier, and their Interpersonal Bonus ends. [1]

[1] Investigators with this Trait emulate the tactics of scrappy defense attorneys from a certain series of courtroom drama visual novels. By finding contradictory details in the stories of others, they can pull apart an entire testimony at the seams, but if they take too big of a logical leap and can’t back it up, they quickly lose confidence, momentum, and the trust of onlookers.

Each Investigator (player character) has 3-6 Traits which mechanically represent various aspects of their character.

More information about Eureka and its mechanics under the cut!

Eureka is among my favorite RPGs I've ever read, and certainly the best investigation-focused system I've seen. Its systems are deeply elegant, creating a game where players can piece together mysteries alongside their Investigators in a grounded world that still leaves space for supernatural intrigue. Combat is swift and strategic, but deadly if you go in without a plan. Investigations can be complex, but even the stickiest of situations don't require railroading to keep players on track. Mundane and supernatural characters alike have access to unique abilities, quirks, and skills that make each character feel distinct in mechanics as much as in flavor. The game interacts with the real world by way of fiction in a way that's refreshing and endlessly fascinating.

I absolutely recommend you give Eureka a shot, especially if you've been disappointed trying to run mystery stories in systems like D&D5e.

This trait, as is probably clear from the art and description, is heavily inspired by the gameplay of the Ace Attorney franchise, where you're expected to pull at the threads of a story until the truth falls into your lap, but where every further question is a risk. This is part of a broader trend in the rulebook where traits reference investigators from other mystery media, including Columbo, Sherlock Holmes, Jacques Clouseau, Kolchak, and the Scooby Gang (two links), among others.

The text of Objectionable references "Investigation Points", which are an abstract representation of how well an Investigator understands the mystery they're looking into. They can be traded in for "Eureka!" moments, which allow Investigators to retroactively learn information from a previously failed roll or increase their chances on a future roll. Getting a bonus point in this case encourages players to use this Trait whenever it's applicable, and represents the growing confidence of the Investigator as they get to the bottom of the other person's story.

It also refers to Composure, which is kind of like an emotional HP system – having low Composure reduces the possible skill bonuses an Investigator can receive on a roll, because if they're scared, tired, hungry, frustrated, or otherwise thrown off their game, they're less likely to succeed at what they try to do. In this case, the potential loss of composure references Ace Attorney characters getting flustered and embarrassed when the player chooses the wrong line of inquiry.

I'm not affiliated with ANIM (other than being acquainted with their team, since they're quite active within their online communities), but I really do suggest supporting them on Patreon and/or itch.io and/or Ko-Fi. On top of making Eureka, they also run a TTRPG Book Club server on Discord, which is excellent for finding RPGs to read and play and people to read and play them with, and they already have other projects planned after Eureka's full release. There's also a free beta version of Eureka available on their itch.io page, on top of the more frequent updates available on Patreon. Go check out cool artists!

[oatmealdaydreams]

Black Hole Fantasy: I'm pulling in the driveway, I'm turning off the car

Let me know if ya wanna be added on or taken off the general taglist!

Part 1

Inspired By Works: the Shifter Stan AU made by @the-east-art! Check out her stuff, it's super good. Shout out to East!

Pairing: Stan Pines & Ford Pines, gen

Warnings: Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: After reconciling, Stan answers what he can while Ford asks questions about his shifting abilities. Most of them are expected from his nerdy brother: how certain shifts work, what kind of limits there are, what the deal is with partial shifts, and all that. But then Ford asks about how he found out about his abilities, and…and Stan debates if it’s a good idea telling his brother about his time driving in Mount Tammany.  Stan cannot lie to Ford without him seeing right through it, anyway.

Notes: Wrote a majority of this today (as of posting) because I damn well know a lot of us need some comfort right now.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

The younger twins are due to arrive within the next week or so for another summer. Stan’s surprised their parents are letting back to Gravity Falls—depending on what they told their parents—but he’s not complaining. He grew attached to those chaotic gremlins rather quickly. They’re family, after all. Stan knows he’s got a weak spot for ‘em. Ford gives him shit about it sometimes when he’s being all stubborn and grumpy. It doesn’t come from a place of hypocrisy, though. Ford’s just as bad as Stan is when it comes to their niblings, and he most often admits it.

The time sailing across the vast seas on the Stan O’ War II with Ford helped with remembering things. Stan had remembered most of his life—the important bits, at least. There were still holes in his recollection here and there, still are, but important memories stuck before the rest of it. The fact that he had a twin brother named Stanford, his niblings, most of what he’s done while in Gravity Falls, the entire Portal Situation, and almost everything that has to deal with a certain triangular dream demon. When he has relapses, Ford is always there to help him remember and support him until the memories come back. Childhood can be a bit blurry sometimes. He doesn’t quite remember much about their father, but Ford reassures him that he’s not someone to worry about; Stan trusts Ford. That, and the way Ford’s eyes darken every time he mentions him…well, he can piece things together on his own. Some people aren’t worth remembering. That’s okay. 

One of the periods in his life he struggles to remember much of is the ten years before he arrived in Gravity Falls. Ford doesn’t know much about them, either. When a memory from then resurfaces, it can be…really shitty. Sometimes, when a relapse happens and it involves something from his years being homeless, it gets a lot harder to calm Stan down. Especially since all the memories he’s remembered from then so far have been what his niblings would call ‘unfairly traumatic’. Stan knows by now where he got all his survival skills, at least. 

There are a few memories from when he first got on the streets that aren’t so bad. A few failed attempts at cheap products that got him banned in some places. He vaguely remembers his Stan Vac, the whole not-rash-causing rash-causing bandaids, little things like those. His leaky towels that made stains worse. 

His drive up through Mount Tammany. 

Stan remembers a particular night from that. Getting banned from New Jersey and trying his luck in the next state over. Dark nights where the skies were perfect for stargazing if he’d only let himself stay still for a few minutes. But then again, staying still for even a second on the road is the kinda thing that gets ya killed. So. He can always stargaze now, though. Ford always watched the stars when they got the chance at sea. Maybe they can do that again, now, in a place that doesn’t involve a surprising constant of sea-bound critters out ta get their asses. 

The fucking point: he remembers sitting in his car on the roadside, alone, in the middle of nowhere up on a mountain, getting all teary over his stupid fucking hands. He’d shifted them by accident, and suddenly six fingers replaced five. Missing Ford did that kinda shit, he supposes. Intertwining a five-fingered hand with a six-fingered one nearly broke him. Stan can punch a pterodactyl in its damn face, but he’s weak when it comes to his family. To his brother. 

Stan hopes Ford never finds out about it. He hopes he does find out about it. It’s a complicated mess of things. 

They sit in the chairs in the living room. Some rerun of an earlier Ducktective episode plays at low volume, perfect for background noise. Ford noticeably has a notepad and a blue-inked pen out on his lap. Stan’s counting down the seconds it takes for his brother to ask whatever questions he has on his mind. It only takes about thirty seconds for him to burst. A new record, really. 

“Can I ask you a few questions about your shifting?” Ford’s eyes twinkle like the fucking stars. 

Stan shrugs, genuinely open to it, “Sure, why not.” 

Ford’s excited little smile is plenty of reward for agreeing to this. He knows if he said no, Ford would back off. He’d be a bit disappointed, yeah, but he’d back off. Brothers are like that, y’know. 

His brother readies himself with his pen and all, eagerness leaking off him like some weird mist or something. 

“How can you shift into a mermaid but not into a partial fish shift?”

“It’s not that simple, Poindexter. There’re limits to it.”

The sound of a gliding pen across paper, “I suppose that makes sense. Even with Shifty, he had to learn through visualization before he could shift into something. Perhaps you mimic in a similar fashion,” There's a brief pause as Ford writes another note. “What are the limitations?”

“Well,” Stan grunts out a sigh, “for one, shifts hafta be made of the same base stuff that humans are. Size is another thing. Can’t shift inta somethin’ too small or too large. And, uh, partial shifts are their own thing, not very sustainable. ‘S why I gotta shift into a full merfolk instead ‘a partial fish.”

Ford nods along to his brother, scribbling notes hastily as he talks. There’s a sense of ease that blankets the air between them. Lounging in the tv room, talking, listening, just hanging out with each other. When was the last time they did shit like this? When was the last time it started to feel easy? Maybe it’s because he’s answerin’ the things that he does know about his shifting abilities, but a warmth blossoms in Stan’s chest at the realization of how much it reminds him of being kids. Yappin’ with each other. No arguin’ or nothin’, just…yappin’. It’s nice. 

“Wait, so—” a readjust of Poindexter’s glasses, “Then how come you’ve shifted into partial cat eyes or…ah, the partial bear shift the kids told me about?” 

“It ain’t sustainable, so it doesn’t last long,” Stan tries, though he’s pretty sure he just explained the partial shift thing. “Wouldn’t wanna randomly shift underwater, y’know? And fish shifts are always a bitch to shift in and outta.” 

“Ah, I see. Why are fish—”

“The gills, nerd. Breathing’s all different an’ shit.”

“Oh, well, nevermind then.”

Stan snorts at him, and Ford playfully rolls his eyes. He writes a few more notes down. Stan taps his fingers on the arm of his chair, lightly drumming out a tuneless rhythm. A companionable silence fills the room, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to replace it with some sort of sound. Probably because he’s already making noise with his tappin’, but still. It’s like a gentle inhale of fresh pine air, drifting around them. It’s calm. It’s as quiet as any ambience can be. It’s peaceful. 

And it only lasts for a few minutes, thankfully, because Stan might’ve started tappin’ with two hands instead of one if it went on for too long. It’s still silence, after all. Nothing good has come with complete silence.

“Given what you’ve explained…how does your shifting work?” and this question has the stars in Ford’s eyes turning into spotlights that gleam onto Stan. 

Stanley clicks, shrugging, “Tch, I don’t know.”

Ford glances up from his notepad, pen stilling, “What?”

“I don’t know how it works, Six.”

“How can you not know how it works? It’s your shifting!”

“I’ve been busy.”

“But you just explained—”

“I know some things, just not everything!”

“How—wait, okay. What were you so busy with that you didn’t explore your shifting more?”

The peaceful air thins. There’s a slight pressure, tension, something that threatens to smother them if they don’t tread this carefully. A choking hazard. 

Stan scoffs, a biting voice, “Jeez, Six, do ya not remember bein’ shoved into a massive fuckin’ portal? And I thought I was the amnesiac.”

He winces as soon as he says it. That was a bit harsher than he intended, honestly. It’s in the past. Sure, there’re still some shit they gotta work out, but now wasn’t the time. Why is he always biting like a wounded feral dog when it comes to shit like that? What is he, a beaten hound? 

Ford goes sheepish, “Oh, right…”

It’s awkward. The tense air simmers like New Mexico’s summer heat. It blazes underneath the first layer of their skin. It fizzles and crackles and makes both of the older twins fidget in their seats. Stan shifts his weight in his chair, and his finger-tappin’ gets quicker. 

Ford clears his throat, “Right, well, I—thank you, Stanley.” 

A small, fond smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Warmth fills his chest like waves of the ocean, his heart sighing pleasant beats. Ford’s said it a number of times while they were sailing. Some nights, when the beer was cold and the stars were glistening across the vast seas, they figured out talkin’ about shit. Not everything, no, not even some of the things they probably should, but they were still important things they needed to talk about. The portal was one of them. At least, some of it. The parts that Stan remembered in flashes. Memory of its entirety came back before they returned to Gravity Falls, but he digresses. They talked about some shit, and Ford made a point of saying ‘thank you’ a lot more. He still does it. 

The tense air dissipates a significant amount, easing, calming, gentle.

“Yeah, whatever, Poindexter,” Stan waves it off, but he couldn’t wipe the little smile on his face if he tried. “What else ya got, huh?”

Ford shares his own little smile, glancing down briefly at his notes, “Well, let’s see…oh! How did you initially find out about your shifting?”

And the tense air returns with a sharp bite. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

“Of course, if you don’t remember it,” Ford adds quickly, “Just the earliest you can remember.”

Stan considers what to do here. He’s been given an out. He can just give the easy excuse that he doesn’t remember. It wouldn’t be too far a lie, what, with how fickle his memory from that far back can be. It’s still a lie, though. He does remember that night driving through Mount Tammany. Although it may not be his first experience with his new-found shifting abilities, it is one of the earliest. It would be around the time he first found out, anyway. 

And he’d promised Ford on the boat that he’d try and talk to him. They both did. They made that promise. Stan is tired of breaking things. He won’t break a promise to Ford, especially now that they’re on much better terms. He can’t risk fucking this peace up. It’s too precious now. There’s been too much work and hard nights and shed tears they’ll never comment on. Stan won’t break it for anything. 

He sighs, refusing to face Ford while he does this. 

“It ain’t much. Just a drive through the mountains,” he forewarns, “Nothin’ pretty, nothin’ ugly.” 

Ford’s eyes widen in momentary surprise, as if he’d expected Stan to take the out. He shakes it off, leaning in slightly. An eager listener. A nod to show he understands. 

Alright, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this, Stan thinks. 

A gruffer sigh, “Just been banned from Jersey, I think. A few failed business ventures or whatever, and I was drivin’ up through Mount Tammany.”

Stan ignores whatever Ford’s reaction is to him being banned from their home state. He can’t handle reactions if he’s gonna commit to this. Grabbing a half-drank can of Pitt Cola, givin’ something for his hands to do. Idle hands ain’t gonna do good. He can’t risk havin’ idle hands that reach for violence and excuses. This ain’t the time for it. Not now, not now. 

He swallows, continuing, “It’s dark, probably in the middle of the night. Got used ta drivin’ in late hours so much I don’t think it made a difference.” 

The scene itself starts to unravel in front of his mind’s eye. He can almost see it, hear it, smell it. He keeps talking. 

“Mind kept driftin’, so I had ta pull over. I was wonderin’ about…people. Where they were, how’d they been, all that. Guess they really got to me, heh.” 

Ford doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. This one, he knows. He knows what Stan is like when he talks about missing Ford. It’s one ‘a those times. 

“Not even twenty yet, y’know. Still young enough to have a weak stomach about things. I couldn’t keep drivin’ all those curves up in the mountains like that, else I was gonna crash or somethin’. I pull over.”

Stan has to pause for a moment, swallowing again. He tries not to get lost in the memory. He fidgets with the can in his hand, thumbing across its smooth surface. Remind himself where he is. Remember he’s in a chair next to his brother, and not breakin’ at the sight of holding a five-fingered hand and a six-fingered one together. Five plus six is eleven. It’d only been ten years when he saw Ford next after that, but it sure felt like eleven centuries with the way they’d changed. 

No longer lookin’ like each other. Both scared outta their minds and desperate. They’re twins; but back then, they’d been strangers that shared a last name. Not even that. Stan’s used many names throughout the years. He’s worn many faces, too. Droppin’ his shift for the first time in years, just to see his brother, had been a lot more unsettling than he thought it’d be. 

Right, explain’ Mount Tammany. 

Stan shakes his head lightly, ignoring his lingering thoughts of triangular portals. 

“I felt the extra fingers before I saw ‘em,” a hitch of breath besides Stan, but he continues through it, “Six fingers on each hand. The last I recall, I wasn’t the one with hands like that. Turns out I shifted ‘em without thinking.” 

Stan does that sometimes. In moments of heightened emotion—distress, usually—his body decides to kick into gear without askin’ Stan first and shifts itself into whatever it deems necessary to survive the situation. He heard Wendy explain it as a trauma response once. She’d been taking this psychology class to avoid some shitty required course that had a shitty teacher. She’s smart. Gonna do some pretty great shit one day, that kid. Badass enough as it is, really. What highschooler can say they’ve survived the literal apocalypse without referrin’ to a video game? 

“I was already a weak mess at that point,” Stan hesitates, thumbing the can in his hand again. Quiet noises come from Ford’s chair, and he tries to write it off as squeaky furniture. “I, uh…shifted one hand back, and…intertwined them. ‘Bout broke me. I was already fucked-up with drivin’ in the middle of the night, anyway. Y’know, lackin’ sleep and all. That shit.”

Stan cannot look in Ford’s direction after he’s finished. He keeps fiddling with the Pitt can in his hand. His other hand drums a tuneless rhythm on the arm of his chair. He can’t have idle hands. They reach for things. Reaching for Ford might not be a good idea right now. Hey, at least Stan’s actually thinkin’ for once in his damn life. Mabel’s childlike optimism is rubbin’ off ‘a him. 

The quiet noises include a sniffle, and Stan feels something in his chest crack like a statue about to fall off a breaking cliff. Something’s about to break and fall into the churnin’ waters below. The sea can be just as much of a hell as it can be a comfort. Life’s like that, he supposes. Your greatest comfort can be your easiest weak point. 

They sit there, not talking, not looking at each other, hardly making a sound. It’s a fragile air. It’s a thin glass sheet. They’ve had practice on the Stan ‘O War II with learning how to navigate moments like these, but this? This is something else. This is about an earlier memory of being kicked out from home. This is about when Stan learned he was just as anomalous as his brother. This is about one of the first times Stan lost a little hope. This is different. It’s fragile, and Stan’s never been good with fragile things. He breaks what he touches. He doesn’t know how to touch this without cracking the glass like a hammer to a stained glass window. 

Neither of them breathe for a moment. 

How the hell do you navigate a conversation like this? How did it turn into thinly-veiled raw emotion with the steadiness of a paper house? The pivot from your average sibling bickering and stupid smiles to something made of a deck of flimsy cards. A sharp pivot. A sudden pivot. Where did the fragility come from? 

Ford, surprisingly, is the one to break the stained-glass window. 

“Lee,” his voice is thicker, choking, full of hitching breaths and sniffling that becomes all the more noticeable with the uneasy silence. 

Stan can’t help but turn to his brother as soon as that nickname is uttered. There’s a lump in his throat at the sight of Ford’s red-rimmed eyes behind the guise of his blocky glasses. He doesn’t have it in him to swallow it down. 

Okay, they’re doing this. Great. This is fine. 

“Six,” Stan responds, and he sounds just as bad as Ford.

He ignores the prickling droplets in his eyes. 

“You—when did—” words come tumbling out of Ford’s mouth like foreign concepts of another dimension. 

“It’s fine, Poindexter,” an attempt at waving things off, even with how messy their voices are right now, because he cannot stand seeing his brother look so distressed.

“It’s not fine, Stanley.”

“...It’s not.”

“You were banned from Jersey?”

Starting there, okay.

“‘S what happens when yer products are a total sham.” 

“I–yes, I get that, I just…I saw the commercials. Thought you figured it out, and  not…”

“You saw the commercials?”

A pause, “Ah, well, yes. It was the only time I ever saw you.” 

Something about that twists a heart or two. Neither of them can tell if it’s their own or each other’s. It doesn’t matter, really. It twists all the same. 

“You went through Mount Tammany?” Ford continues. 

“Headed towards Pennsylvania. Business opportunities and all that.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Moses, they’re pushing towards seventy and still this awkward? What are they, pre-teens?

“Can you show me?” Ford is so quiet that Stan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Uh, what?”

“Just—you said you shifted into six fingers, so…” the shrug he gives is a little unlike him, but this entire conversation is a little unlike them. Too many emotions going ‘round in a circus display of some spin-top toy. 

Well…not exactly where Stan thought this conversation would go, but it’s not a bad direction. Just show his brother that he can have six-fingered hands like he does. He’s done it before. It’s not the shift that holds a heavy weight behind it, but it’s the reason Ford’s even asking. He’s not gonna point out that Ford’s already seen him with similar hands before. 

Stan tears a hole in the paper house, and he nods. 

Ford watches with a gaze of…something. Careful curiosity is in there somewhere. Along with whatever else is racin’ through his damn head. Lots of things today, huh?

Stan doesn’t need to concentrate as much as he usually does with partial shifts. This one is something he’s practiced and done so often that it’s instinctual. In fact, he glances down and notices one of his hands already has six fingers. He shifts the other to match. Ford stares. He fidgets with his own six-fingered hands. They twitch like they wanna reach out. Stan feels that echo in his knuckles, his joints, the bones of his wrists and hands and even in his sockets. 

Stan slowly reaches out first. 

Ford spares a darting glance at his face, and he meets him halfway. 

They hold hands. 

The very much not-there-at-all tears glide down Stan’s face. Ford’s sniffling again as his breath hitches again. Quiet sounds flitter around the room. Little sounds. Sounds they won’t admit to making because that means admitting to crying over holding hands, and they sure as hell ain’t gonna do that. Doing that means facing the truth of how heavy it feels. Holding hands with your brother isn’t supposed to be heavy. He’s seen Mabel and Dipper hold each other’s hands, and they certainly don’t get weepy over it. Not that Stan would dare to make fun outta them if they did, no, he rather shift in and out of bein’ a fish a million times before he even thinks about doin’ such a thing. 

Ford squeezes, and Stan squeezes back. 

A deck of flimsy cards topples over and scatters across the floor in a whirlwind of sad old men and old wounds. 

Little birds keep close together for winter. 

A sparrow holds his brother’s hand, and it brings more comfort than he’d thought possible. Maybe the scared teen that drove through Mount Tammany heals a little. Maybe the lost kid that cried over his hands while stranded alone in his car starts to smile again. 

A small, teary smile tugs at the corner of Stan’s mouth.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

[idorukiss]

Heres a sorta drabble/headcanon of sorts of how I picture MC's relationship with Rafayel would devleop~ I'm not much of a writer but the brainrot is real and im working on making similar ones for the other boys too!

1,051 words || You can also read it on ao3

‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙ Xavier ・ Zayne ・ Sylus

There have been many different things in Rafayel's life that inspired him when it comes to his art, But nothing took control of his heart so intensely as much as you have. Like a whirlpool you shook him to his core from that first meeting, and all he wants to do is capture you on his canvas for eternity.

It really was quite the blessing with how willing you were to become his bodyguard- not only can he keep you within arms reach but you can also protect him from all the shady people after his life. Like killing 2 birds with one stone, except you were so much stronger and beautiful than any stone he’s ever set eyes on before

He absolutely felt like a flirt to you at the start with all of the compliments and casual physical touch between you guys, He just loved to say how amazing you are while enclosing you in a deep bear hug. It was strange at first you'd admit, but it never felt like he was trying to make any passes at you or act like he was expecting anything in return. Perhaps that's just how he acts with people he trusts?

When Rafayel isnt painting, you two spend a lot of time outside finding inspiration all around. He usually has a sketchbook with him scribbling away anytime he sees something interesting- the landscapes, pretty flowers, or even a parfait you guys got to share. You’ve seen some of these sketches as he works on them, it always amazes you how much detail he can capture with so few lines.

He never let you fully flip through the sketchbook however, claiming all sorts of reasons why, like that the drawings were scared of the sunlight or you had to go through many trials to be worthy. It was obvious how much he cherished it and you respected his wishes, though it would be nice to reminisce on some of the good times you guys had together again. Though its not like your phone wasn't filled to the brim with photos already

Late one night, you stop by his place to make sure he didn't need any motivation to finish a painting for a deadline set the next morning. You have confidence he could make it in time, he always did, but you want to help him as best as you can otherwise. When you arrive you spot a stunning completed painting and a Rafayel sleeping on the sofa below it- both stunning as they're illuminated by the moonlight.

Taking it upon yourself to clean up his supplies a little, just enough to not be a walking hazard of course, you spot his precious travel sketchbook on the floor. Surely he wouldn't mind if you took a little peak in it, you'd love to see how he finished the last landscape you guys saw before he locked himself up to work. As you flip through the pages you see so many familiar sights from your time together so far, but scattered around them filling maybe even more pages was many drawings of a person. Of you. All surrounded by hearts and little notes about things you've said.

When did he have a chance to draw all of these? Is this how you look to him?? Questions race your mind as your face flushes at the image of him intensely scribbling in the sketchbook as you dance around the beach being dumb. You decide to grab a pencil and add your attempt of a sketch of him in the back, signing it with a little heart of your own. It’s nowhere near his skill level but something that captures how you feel, and maybe he would get a chuckle out of it once he spots it.

You don’t realize when the casual acts of affection he started out with turn slightly more romantic- going from linking arms together to holding your hand, and you swear you feel him press little kisses on the top of your head every time he wraps his arms around you. But you don't hate it, in fact it makes your heart flutter every time you realize it

Rafayel often messages you at the most random times to meet him somewhere, usually it was because he found a stunning view and wanted to share the experience with you. Sometimes he would even show up at your apartment to whisk you away, and every time it filled you with joy. These dates and every moment you get to spend with him fill your heart with so much warmth.

One particularly warm night you were woken up by a call inviting you to the beach near his studio. It was worth crawling out of the bed at an ungodly hour, not only for the view but for him. While you were admiring the waves, he couldn't keep his eyes off you as a cautious pinky is hooked around yours. Two faces flush as you look at him, it lasts for only a moment before its interrupted by your watch.

Your face falls as you read the notification “It looks like I got a last minute mission in the morning…I guess this means I have to head back already.” As you take a heavy step to start walking away he reaches out to stop you with a pleading look on his face “Wait, don’t go yet” “Rafayel…. I’m sorry, I really am. This night- everything was wonderful, it really was” “Can’t you just stay the night?” He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck “Please just stay the night, I don’t want you to leave.” Your heart flutters as you wrap your arms around him in return “Okay, I’ll stay for you my sweet painter”

He is the most clingy man you’ve ever met, constantly torn between wrapping himself around you while peppering every inch of skin with kisses and diving headfirst into hundreds of paintings with you as his muse. His studio would be covered in nothing but paintings of you if he didn't have to focus on his commissions.

He sculpted out a place in your heart that held him, and in turn you've devoted yourself to him- loving him with every fiber of your being

[robin-evry]

Can you do aventurine!yuu?

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄!𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 🎰♠️

A senior manager in the IPC Strategic Investment Department and one of the Ten Stonehearts. His Cornerstone is the "Aventurine of Stratagems." He possesses an air of frivolity and doesn't shy away from taking risks. His constant smile makes it difficult for people to discern his true feelings.

The ultimate gambler in NRC. Is very popular due to them winning every single game they bet.

They turn the ramshackle dorm into a gambling room without the teachers knowing. Many students work under them in exchange for money It has become a very popular area for the students. By doing this they manage to get some connections with many powerful students or students who have connections for information.

Everyone is at the bottom gambling while aventurine!yuu stands on top overlooking everything. With grim by their side wearing the same hat as them

Many students have been trying to expose them but every time they try aventurine!yuu will always be two steps ahead of them and manage to get away with it or the teachers and staff simply ignore it.

Azul once tried to black mail them into a contract or tried to expose them but every time aventurine!yuu will always outsmart them. They are his biggest enemy He is always unable to read their motives and is unable to beat them it will drive him insane.

And if a student misbehaves or threatens violence a pile of large gold coins will fall on them and injure them in the process. ( Similar towards aventurine skill in the game )

They are one of the top of the class as well the sugar parents of all the first years and grim anything they ask aventurine!yuu will buy it for them

Even under that mischievous smile, Aventurine!yuu is always on their guard or high alert. They are back from square one similar to their past. They never close to their hearts, they close it afraid of losing these people.

They use make up or foundation to cover up their marks on their neck or by wearing outfits with color or a turtle neck sweater to cover up their marks to not tell people about their past.

Very rich, so rich to not care. By asking a question about an assignment to a student they will be Given jewelry and gold by them like it was nothing. Ruggie will tend to follow them to see if they need any help so they could pay him in jewelry by doing this he manages to sell the stuff they gave him and have his family a better life.

Miraculous luck, for some reason luck seems to follow them wherever they go and even affects people, they always get good grades, once a potted plant falls from the second and aventurine! Yuu was standing underneath it and the potted plant suddenly changed direction and missed them.

The first years will start calling them their lucky charm due to this strange phenomena.

Aventurine usually wear a pair of glasses to cover their unique eye color to make sure no one knows about their true origin. As well they tend to wear high end stuff like they wear a watch that is very expensive and designer clothing as well as their uniform having form modification.

Has a talent for dancing and singing, they are very talented to the point during VDC, vil approach them asking to participate in it but they refused.

Many students are very wary of him and will start bad rumors about them but every time the first years will protect them against this rumors

Has a crowd of students under their order, will get paid handsomely by them and ruggie starts to work for them for a half time and they more than mostro lounge. These students will work as their ears and eyes in NRC.

[kamiversee]

I wish y’all would just chill on this app bro. I’m actually getting irritated by people who seriously lack something as simple as basic comprehension skills.

Many things to say to this, bear with me. 🧚

For one, due to the fact that you so clearly did not read anything I said in my previous reply, I’m going to insert it here again!!

You said “If there are similarities between gojo and zade then that's your problem, I'm just pointing it out but you're the one who wrote it did you not?” but if that’s the case then I am entirely entitled to tell you that I don’t like that comparison, nor do I want to hear or see anything regarding it. I wrote it, it’s my story — I’m allowed to not like certain comparisons!! 🥰

Following that, never once did I say I had a problem with my fic being compared to dark romance as it’s literally a dark romance fanfiction in itself. The issue here lies in the book you specifically compared it to. Duh??

Which is part of why I said you must be new around here because most of my readers are aware of the fact that I don’t like the Zade/Gojo comparison because while they may have one or maybe two things in common, they really aren’t alike in the slightest. Especially when you dive even deeper into the story.

Thank you for this headache tho because you just reminded me to let future readers know that I don’t like comparisons. Let tfl be what it is please. You can compare it to whatever you want with whoever, obviously I can’t control that but just don’t come to me personally with that shit because it’s not a compliment & I don’t find it funny nor entertaining in the slightest!!

&& the topics specifically romanticized in TFL are included here in the warnings:

You also said that I “went out of my way” to create another book just so that they got together… Girl, that was REQUESTED by MANY of the people who read the damn story and still wanted Gojo even after all he did & or, to have all their unanswered questions answered. I was originally not going to drop a sequel & answer things one by one but the number of people asking for more led me to do so.

Haunting Adeline romanticizes some of the topics I included in tfl PLUS MORE that I, again, specifically do not romanticize, sexualize, or write.

The damn book was never supposed to be considered “regular erotica” since it literally starts off with Gojo fucking blackmailing her. It starts out dark and ends even darker, please.

I’m also VERY well aware that dark romance doesn’t always mean sa or 🍇. tfl is a dark romance fanfic. I know this.

And last but certainly not least my love, you actually can block anons!!! Hope this helps.

& I pray you have a very blessed day. Mwah. 💋

[lee-apolla]

*gassssp* you have OCs 💥 can you tell me about them 🤩

YES! It's my lovely OC, but I have to TW y'all of the horror pics, tentacles, and a lot of eyes.

Its name is Jester, it's horrorish vile creature, made of a bunch of tentacles, blue teeth and blue eyes. It can mimic any form, any creature, and hides among people for its own safety. But also it likes attention! So it always chooses pretty bright appearances.

But don't let yourself be fooled by this vivid image, in fact, if this creature is very hungry, it doesn't care what it eats — a cow or a human. But as a rule, it controls its appetite and, when full, likes to study people, history and many other skills in order to try new disguises on itself.

Despite its dangerous true appearance and amoral world views, Jester is actually very reasonable and harmless. It hides from those who want to study it, disembowel and learn how to use its abilities for the “benefit of humanity”. Jester cannot reproduce, as it's the only creature of its kind, and is unsure that it even wants to meet someone like it.

Jester has been living and hiding among people for centuries and, to tell the truth, it no longer remembers exactly when, where and how it was born.

Although Jester has a mind, character, personality, it denies its possibility for humanity thoroughly, because mimic cannot be human. But deep in the core, this being harbors doubts and a desire not to be alone. It wants to be accepted and not feel like a monster. It seeks a way to express its feelings in its own way, rather than copying someone else's method of showing emotions.

In the current timeline, Jester has stuck to a black market scientist named Heinz, who has somehow hooked this creature with his behavior, so it wants to study him and understand why he is so calm about Jester's real nature.

Their relationship is quite comlicated and at first glance may seem toxic and abnormal. Jester is manipulative and Heinz is bad at showing emotions and it's hard for both of them to open up to each other, but when they get to know each other better, they will begin to appreciate each other. But who knows what their dubious bond will lead to.

Thank you for reading, it's really a pleasure for getting questions about my OCs! Sorry for long post and creepy pictures, I'm just a big fan of this kind of stuff.

[babehog]

can you explain how the "im so jealous of your eyebrows" is transmisogyny? /gen. Should i avoid complimenting anyone's thick eyebrows unless im sure they arent trans woman?? I have always loved thick/bushy eyebrows and as tboy im sad mine didn't get much better on T.

I'm by no means the most well-read or articulated person on here to answer this so I encourage any mutuals of mine to add on if they wish.

Anon I would like to first of all say, no you do not have to "avoid" complimenting eyebrows just because the recipient is a trans woman. There's obviously nuance to this. The post in question was using eyebrows as an example but I just as often personally hear these types of comments about my arms, my jaw, my body/facial hair.

So what was the point? It's that TME people, whether they are trans or cis, have a tendency to compliment and appreciate the masculine aspects of trans womens bodies. This isn't necessarily a conscious choice of course but it is a comment that can make a trans women feel othered from a perceived femininity.

I'd also like to give you a chance to reflect on your own preconcieved notions. In your ask you identify yourself as a tboy, and you mention you like "thick/bushy eyebrows" and you end your ask by expressing dissapointment that your eyebrows didn't "get better" on T.

Do you think this phrasing says anything about how you view thick/bushy eyebrows? For example: If you wanted thicker eyebrows because you think that would make you appear more masculine, could framing your compliments through that perspectiv potentially affect how the compliment is interpreted? There is of course nuance here. A trans woman that styles her eyebrows might appreciate having that skill be appreciated. Having aspects of your appearance that are not within your control be judged can be a very uncomfortable feeling and although I personally as a butch woman wouldn't mind having my eyebrows complimented I do recognize that there are a lot of trans women that do not appreciate that.

I hope you genuinely were asking this in good faith and that you read my response.

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

Didn't expect to do this, but. Excerpt from a longer piece I'm working on from my Curse of Strahd campaign, because I was reading over it while trying to find something to work on in the midst of all of this awful shit and got slapped with some very on the nose feelings. Call it my WIP Wednesday, lol.

“But honestly, who is going to blame me for indulging in a little bit of absurdity right now? This whole situation is mad.” “Is it?” Now Ireena turns to face her, brows furrowed in genuine confusion. “How so?” This, from Ireena, is a real question, and not a sarcastic quip at Wyn's expense, so she takes a breath to quell the sudden scorch of fire in her chest and turns her attention back to her sketch.  “Where would you have me start?” she asks, very lightly. “The night that we spent safe among a full caravan of people on a well-traveled trade road, only to wake up in the middle of unfamiliar woods, alone, with necromantic mists chasing our every step? The haunted manor house so full to the brim with moral transgressions that it tried to eat us one floor at a time, and very nearly succeeded? Or perhaps the fact that less than two hours ago, we were sat down at the table of a woman who claims to see the future and told that, despite our inexperience and our incompetence and the fact that we have not so much as a whit of real skill between us, we are apparently meant to be this land’s saviors?” In truth, savior hadn’t been the word that Madam Eva had used. She had been more delicate, less certain; she had used words like ‘might,’ like ‘maybe.’ But she had still held out beseeching hands across her card-strewn table and told them that they carried hope on their shoulders, that she looked to them for the cure to the curse on Barovia’s stricken land. She had still said that they were what she had been waiting for.  The whole thing had been so absurd that Wyn still feels a little glow of pride when she remembers that she hadn’t laughed. Beside her, Ireena nods, slowly.  “I see,” she says, and she probably does, but Wyn can tell by her expression that she also thinks that Wyn is overreacting. The thought is nearly enough to spin up the grease fire burning in her gut again, almost enough to bait the howling animal — but then Wyn takes another breath, and sighs, and shrugs. “I expect that you’re the only one who does,” she says, smiling like there isn't a part of her that wants to start screaming instead. “But, as near as I can tell, I have two options: I can either wallow in the knowledge that this is our death sentence, and spend a very productive evening being a font of wretched despair and grim portent, or —” She makes a flourishing gesture down to the sketch in her lap. “— I can paint a beard onto the wizard. Considering that I expect to spend no small amount of time on the former, I’ve decided to indulge the latter while I have the energy.”

[fangsandfeels]

I planned to make a Rook in her early 50s to romance Emmrich - back when I thought that there was no age limits and that the Mourn Watch origin meant Rook could potentially be a Nevarran noble, born mage and having successfully built her Mortalitasi career.

But, since the game constantly mentions a "young Watcher", that's a big no. As a result, attempts at flirting looked really awkward (to me, at least). Shouldn't be that much of a problem with other origins.

However, no matter the origin, the constant implication that Rook lacks experience is there: sometimes Rook can talk to Varric about the decisions they make - even though Varric isn't exactly a typical hero or some legendary leader. He is good at reading people, keeping tabs on them, and his heart is in the right place. But I don't think he fits as a mentor figure. Not to mention that it would have more sense for him to look for experienced people, not to prepare rookies to take down a god.

Also, I don't think that a Grey Warden!Rook who already went through the Joining ritual really needs to rely on Varric for advice - they have already been through a lot more than any newbie. Seriously, why would a GW!Rook would question themselves whether they have what it takes? They already drank tainted blood (and survived its effects) to fight one of the greatest threats to the living world, or die trying. They have everything it takes. DAO Wardens get initiated at least in their early 20s and already end up responsible for the fate of Ferelden - with their mentor figure getting murdered in the very first battle.

But, the most confusing part is that Rook doesn't feel that young to me. At least, both female and male voices sound like Rook should be at least in their late twenties, which also means they should have enough experience of fighting and navigating their way through life, so none of them needs that kind of guidance.

So, to me, it feels like the writers intentionally lean into the "young hero at the beginning of their adventure" trope because it's much easier to write.

Writing a protagonist with experience and maturity tales skill and proficiency that the team in chare didn't have. Yes, a DAO Warden always starts young, yet still goes through different shades of fucked up shit depending on their personal background - because writers didn't see their age as an excuse not to flesh them out or let them be placeholders for the players. They used their backgrounds and age to show what kind of a meat grinder that world will put you through, regardless of your age and gender.

Oh lord I just had a thought. Which makes a piece of writing both better and worse.

Do we think Varric is bullshitting when he says to Rook that’s their nickname because of the chess piece, and it’s actually just… rookie? Because they are woefully under qualified?

And he’s doing his own advice of trying to raise up the person you’re talking to even if you don’t believe it yourself?

[madeofjules]

I've seen quite a few bad thg opinions the past couple days so here's a reminder that these things are canon:

Katniss is suicidal until Peeta comes home. He gives her the hope she needs to heal and move forward. They eventually enter a romantic relationship because she desires and loves him.

Katniss's only reason for not wanting kids was her deep-seated fear that they'd be reaped. Becoming a mother shows how much she's recovered from her trauma. Her children make her feel joy.

Katniss is happy in 12. She would've ended up there anyway. (“A few hundred others return because, whatever has happened, this is our home.”)

So anyone who thinks her ending isn't good or what she wanted probably doesn't actually like Katniss and definitely doesn't understand her character as she's written. Thankfully her creator does know her and gave her the peaceful ending she deserves.

[deoidesign]

Time and Time Again comes back tonight!

Thank you all for being so patient with me, I know it was a long hiatus.

My health was struggling, my arm was (is) hurting, and I decided it wasn't worth it. I'd rather be slow!

So thank you for giving me that grace, and I hope you'll be there with me for the rest of the series.

[yardsards]

i needed to express a sentiment in the creative stylings of @dunmeshiminimumwage

[ask-mister-mystery]

Stan pauses. The smile drops from his face. The words sink in slowly, but once he’s understood what she meant he knows nothing will be the same. It’s like they’re being etched with a chisel onto a slab of marble.

“Wait, you did that?” Stan says, his voice a strangled yelp. He fights an involuntary urge to scoot away from Aggie, as though she’s dangerous to him right now.

“I thought I was just really lucky…” Stan said in a small hollow voice. He felt like the biggest fool imaginable. So much for all those fighting skills he thought he had.

So many questions run through his mind. Why for one thing. I mean he knows she said it was because they were friends but that was a lot just for him.

“Are…are you magic or something?” Stan said, choosing a question that to him seemed less awkward. “Like I read in comics about these people who have telekinetic powers, is it like that?”

Stanley finally stumbles upon Aggie, the telltale sounds of her crying like a trail of breadcrumbs leading him to her. He sits down next to her.

“Aw c’mon Aggie you know I can’t leave ya here. Wouldn’t be fair. If Graunty Mabel found out I’d let you get eaten by wolves or something, I’d never hear the end of it.” He says, trying his best to inject some levity into the situation, though probably not succeeding.

He changes tack.

“You know those teens? They’re just afraid of what they don’t understand. They don’t understand Sixe- Ford. They don’t understand you or me. So they just get scared of us instead.”

He just wished he didn’t have to lump Carla in with that group.

“You really didn’t need to come down and support me y’know. But I appreciate it Aggie…” Stan turns to look at her and smiles.