#and reading it back has been a very cathartic experience

[musical-chick-13]

Going through some of my Currently-Paused WIPs for fun, and. Hmmm. HMMMMMMMMM.

[bougiebutchbinch]

I AM THINKING THOUGHTS

specifically

asexual Izzy who thinks sex is the only way he can access Those Sweet Snuggles And Aftercare

he's trying SO HARD to repair things between him and ed and stede in the aftermath of S2, where they've all survived and are setting up a cute, doomed domestic future in their inn

only... he's still drowning in insecurity that ed and stede would be far better off as a pair without him, wondering whether he should've died, fretting that he's going to ruin everything again

so he decides, as the KING of fucked-up acts of service, that the best way to Make This Work and for him not to fall back into destructive past patterns is to.... never say no to anything that Stede and Ed want to do. Including sex.

Obviously, this doesn't end well.

[very, very poor communication leading to rape, internalised aphobia]

Izzy has, crucially, never been in a relationship before. He's had sex quite a few times, but even when consensual it was always a bit miserable and traumatic. He didn't enjoy it, and privately worries that a part of him is broken because he didn't enjoy it.

But he'll enjoy it with Ed and Stede! Because he loves them! He's sure of it!

Only then, they try and...

And Izzy hates it.

He just hates himself more, for not being able to give them this. Because he loves them - he does. What's wrong with him? Why can't he just stop being a scared little prude and relax and let them love him, too?

Ed and Stede like sex. They really like sex - they have it together LOADS, with or without Izzy's involvement. Izzy's desperate not to be left out, and determined not to be the stone in this mechanism, ruining everything for the men he loves.

Thankfully, he's a massive masochist! It's easy to internalise that sex with them is his 'punishment' for breaking them up that one time, and something he simply has to grit his teeth and suffer through so they'll hold him, after! And if he breaks down sobbing most of the time and starts whimpering 'sorry, sorry, sorry'.... well, he'll insist shamefaced that it's a shitty reaction to old trauma, if either of them ask - or that it's cathartic for him, or some shit. Nothing to do with Ed or Stede personally, or wanting them to stop. He loves them. He wants to be with them. In every way. He promises.

Meanwhile, Ed and Stede are terrified that if they 'leave Izzy out', they'll be the ones ruining everything. So, they're sure to give him as much physical affection as they give each other! Ed thinks he's 'making up for lost time', and presumes this is what Izzy wanted from him all along but was too stuck in his ways to ask for. Stede is delighted to be discovering The Joys Of Gay Sex, and wants to share the pleasure and experience everything imaginable with Izzy.

Izzy is. Suffering.

Still, he's genuinely kinky and enjoys pain. The obvious answer is for him to ask them to tie him up and gag him while they fuck him so he won't accidentally say anything 'silly' like "No, please, stop."

Stede and Ed are kinda.... wary, because that's pretty hardcore! What if Izzy decides he doesn't want this, part way through? But Ed admits he's fooled around with Jack a few times in a similar way (though of course, that was heartily consensual) and Stede has read a few.... interesting books on the subject of darker flavours of lust, and so, after a whispered conversation, they agree to give Izzy what he 'needs'.

It's a lot easier to bear sex when it's about pain, not pleasure and intimacy and all those other things Izzy struggles to feel when he's got another body pushing inside of his.

Only problem is... Ed and Stede don't particularly enjoy hurting him like that. Especially not Ed, who's looking closer to a breakdown every time Izzy hopefully pulls out the gag after Ed intiates sex. Reluctantly, Izzy agrees to save the ropes and gag for when they're feeling, as Ed puts it 'spicy' - special occasions, not every day - and goes back to letting his lovers treat him like he's something special (he's not he's not he's not) while every touch only makes him feel more like a cracked glass a single bump away from shattering.

Maybe a part of Izzy 'communication is NOT my middle name' Hands expects them to notice and WANTS them to notice, but a far bigger part is absolutely desperate to hide how much he's Not Liking This. It becomes an immensely fucked-up challenge for him, to prevent Stede and Ed from knowing they're hurting him more with all this gentle, tender missionary, than that time he got them to flog his back bloody, that was actually the closest he came to enjoying their time together in bed. Unfortunately, for all their flaws, Ed and Stede are both observant, and even (occasionally) emotionally intelligent. So when Izzy starts devolving into a shaking wreck who cringes from them even as he tries to enjoy their touches, they do notice.

But every time Ed and Stede try to start an honest conversation on the topic of intimacy, Izzy clams right up and insists everything's fine.

This is fucking devastating to Ed and Stede because... they can't keep going like this. They've worked so hard - Ed especially! - to get to a point in their lives where they're happy and not hurting anyone. But Ed knows a thing or two about using other people to self-destruct, and looking at Izzy at the moment is like looking in a warped mirror. It's making him have almost as many breakdowns as Izzy, eaten alive with guilt and horror for all the shit he's done, all the people he's hurt, how he's hurt Izzy so awfully in the past (how it feels like he's hurting him still, though Izzy insists he wants it; Izzy insists he's okay...)

Eventually, for the sake of Ed's crumbling mental health, he and Stede sit down with Izzy and tearfully confess that they love him. They really do. But this isn't working out. Izzy isn't happy, and that's making them unhappy. They can't go on like this or they're all going to suffer.

Once they finish speaking, Izzy just. Crumples. And sobs. He's so stressed. He's so tired. He's so nervous and twitchy and flighty and he doesn't know why. He's tried SO HARD to make this work (by sacrificing his own happiness over and over and over, thinking it's inherently worth less than Ed and Stede's, refusing to believe that they couldn't be happy unless he's happy too).

And he's FAILED. Like he fails at every fucking thing.

Stede and Ed just. Look at each other. Like 'uhhhh I think we're missing something here'.

Once they finally get Izzy to tearfully confess that he just doesn't like sex and doesn't think he ever will they're like. Oh. Oh that's easy. We just won't have sex? You can still watch us if you don't wanna feel left out, or just hang in the room while we fuck, but you don't have to be involved? And the two of them get really excited and puppyish because oh my gosh this is a thing we can actually fix, maybe we don't have to break up after all?

But then Izzy is so embarrassed about how SIMPLE they made the solution and how he couldn't see it himself that he determines that they're better off without him after all, and runs away in the middle of the night to give them a 'fresh start'

To which, duh, Stede and Ed set off after him, because they're NOT gonna let Izzy sacrifice himself AGAIN for 'their' sake. The little twat.

There will be a happy ending but it'll take a while and they'll have to chase Izzy all over the seven seas to convince him to give their threesome another chance. The end.

[octoberland]

Invisible

Only TWD would get me to come back here writing my fandom thoughts. It's a landmine because you never know how people will react. I am going to share some deeply personal thoughts. I ask that you treat this vulnerability with the respect that it deserves. Spoilers for tonight's episode. And a trigger warning for my personal experiences with abuse.

I met Carol 14 years ago. It was a time in my life when she was a mirror for me. Meek, scared, abused Carol. The little mouse. Jumping when Ed said jump.

By the time the show aired that year I had extricated myself from my situation. But I was still terrified every day. I mostly didn't sleep at night. When I did sleep, I would prop things against the doors so I could hear if someone came in. I would rarely be out of the house at night. On the occasions I was outside after dark I would be walking with my heart in my throat, beating the loudest of drums in my ears. Every stranger was a potential threat. Every shadow could be him coming back to kill me.

I latched onto Carol in my fear and despair. I understood her. Related to her. Felt inspired by her. I was hers from the moment she bashed Ed's skull in. It was so cathartic watching her do that. I wished I could have that moment in my life.

Like her, people judged me. People blamed me for being with a man like that. Said I must like bad boys. Said I liked the attention. Asked why I didn't just leave. It's all so easy to dissect when you're on the outside.

Unlike Carol I didn't have a walker to take out my abuser. I extricated myself. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. And it came with great risk. And I mostly did it alone.

I watched as she grew strong. And I grew strong too. Like her, I learned to fight. To be fair, she was not my only influence there. I have Captain America/Chris Evans to thank for that too. I hope someday I get to tell him that story. But watching her grow was an inspiration.

Like many people, I was moved by her ability to connect with Daryl. You don't understand how hard that can be after abuse. It's been 14 years and I've still not been in another relationship. I may never be again. That kind of abuse leaves an indelible mark on you.

But with him she blossomed. Sexually, emotionally, and just as a human. I admired her ability to do that.

The trauma was still there though. We saw that. Her edges became too sharp. Her distance too cold. But I get it. I really, truly get it.

But through it all her relationship with Daryl remained. They were each other's North Star. Not perfect, but constant.

But the sad truth is, at the end of the day these characters don't belong to us. They are written by flawed humans with personal agendas and like with any long running series, the longer it runs the higher chance for writers to fuck things up.

Before I dive more specifically into tonight's episode and the Book of Carol let me just say that I still love Carol and I still love Daryl and I still love Caryl. If you want to stop reading here just know that Carol remains an icon to me for very personal reasons. But that is part of why I'm writing this.

Potential spoilers beyond the cut.

The writing this season is sloppy, imho. And this is where I put my writer hat on and try to look at things more objectively. It seems like Gimple is mining the past because it's "cool" and not because he actually wants to address any long standing trauma that Carol has.

Everyone's trauma journey is different and I get that. But after 14 years I doubt that Carol is going to start panicking when going into a barn. In fact, we've already seen her entering barns in early seasons without any issues. I wish the show had consulted some trauma experts. They could have provided some examples of things that might actually set her off. Like seeing a little girl walker. Or meeting a child named Sophia. And speaking of that, I know Carol is supposed to be tough and sneaky and all that but the episode where she lied about her daughter to get the plane really bothered me. If the memory of her daughter is so traumatic I feel like she would not use her daughter like that.

This reunion episode was a missed opportunity to explore trauma in a more meaningful way. It was a missed opportunity for Carol and Daryl to have some truly meaningful conversations. I know I've said this before but she FLEW ACROSS THE OCEAN. DURING AN APOCALYPSE. And all he basically did was grunt one liners at her and lie about how he never stopped trying to get back to her. These two deserve to have a real conversation where they talk about how incredible what she did was. They need to talk about what that means for each of them. And I'm not even talking about romance. Daryl has never had anyone do anything like that for him. Does he understand how profound an act that was? If he ever had any doubt as to how much Carol cared for him this should have erased it. And for Carol, this could also be a wake up call for her too. While being hard and cunning is good for survival, this is an opportunity for her to be vulnerable. To express what he means to her. Or to maybe even face any codependence she has with Daryl.

I feel bad what happened to Isabelle. It kind of feels like an FU to her character. As much as I love Caryl I'm not in support of fridging women for a ship or for man pain. I'm glad we got to see her and Carol together but I wish we could have seen them together a little longer. Again, there is a missed opportunity for some really interesting conversations.

I can't help but feel that this show is suffering under the leadership of male writers and showrunners. There's such nuance to be had here and it's being funneled down to base tropes. Genet is evil because her husband died. Carol is just now having flashbacks to something that happened a decade ago because we need her to grow emotionally and we can't think of another way to do that without mining her motherhood. Isabelle has to die because God forbid two adults actually have a conversation about emotions.

I honestly can't guess where this series is going right now. Every time I think I know what is going to happen something else happens instead. Normally this would be a good thing but here it just feels sloppy. Are they dicking around Caryl? Will they kill her? Or him? Or do they plan for this to go into more seasons? I haven't a clue. But it feels like whiplash, like they are trying to make the characters grow too quickly to fit an agenda without doing the real work people need to do. A hug from an old lady won't cure trauma.

I think mostly I just wish Carol and Daryl would have a real conversation before all this is over.

Anyway, that's my rant. I did like the old married couple joke in the car. And I'm glad Carol's not dead. But I hope we get to see some real connection.

[marlenacantswim]

BAM headcanons for your little guy????

i can always count on you, whoop <333

i'm thinking ab the tenth doctor real hard bc of that novel i just read, so imma drop some headcanons ab him and his companions, and probably 14 too bc i'm feeling it.

ten's got a little bit of a chew stim / oral fixation. this is inspired both by the number of times he holds objects in his mouth in the show, and him chewing the end of his stethoscope in Prisoner of the Daleks.

fourteen, meanwhile, learns he has a LOT of a chew stim once he's settled into his new life with the nobles. the discovery unfortunately comes at the cost of sylvia's second favorite spatula, which 14 absentmindedly chewed a hole into while making himself eggs one morning.

tentoo and rose celebrate the day she and nine first met as their anniversary. when they get married (through a lowkey traditional timelord wedding to "celebrate his heritage"), they make sure to hold the ceremony on that same day.

one january day, a few years into their relationship, rose is telling tentoo how worried and stressed she is about her job prospects. tentoo reassures her by saying "i think you're gonna have a great year :)" which suddenly unlocks the memory she'd had of meeting ten on new year's, 2005. since tentoo doesn't remember this, they both conclude that it must have been the actual doctor visiting her sometime after the metacrisis, and through her description of the events, tentoo silently realizes that ten was there because he was dying.

14 has a sleep pattern of about one or two nights of restless insomnia, followed by one night of deep, babylike sleep that lasts for 10 hours if uninterrupted. it's not uncommon, on these nights, to find him asleep in front of a project he's been working on, as he is the only one in the house who has not yet recognized this pattern.

as a time lord, he doesn't need to sleep this much in theory, but my mans is so tired, and for the first time like, ever, he has the space to actually catch up on lifetimes of lost sleep.

time lord dreams tend to be five-dimensional, but the trends can change with regenerations. for instance, nine's dreams were only ever three-dimensional, and always in black and white. ten's dreams have a wild range of possibilities, from so photorealistic he confuses them with real memories, to so abstract that the experience is more akin to being the subject of a picasso painting. he dreams every time he falls asleep, even if he's just taking a nap. 14's dreams are always photorealistic.

donna snores. not super loud, but enough to be obvious to anyone but her. ten always found the rhythmic sound soothing; pulsing white noise like that of the tardis. he'd often fall asleep in the same room as her because of it. all of this applies to 14 as well, to the extent that, some mornings, donna and shaun find him curled up into a ball asleep at the foot of their bed like a dog.

martha and the nobles keep very well in touch, to the occasional horror of 14 who has no idea how to read her and feels pathetically awful about how he treated her during her time as a companion. martha honestly still believes he's the most amazing thing, but she's gotta admit that watching him sweat bullets every time she addresses him feels kinda cathartic, so she has no qualms putting off that talk.

martha has also since pivoted back to the medical field, where she is doing quite well, thank you for asking.

since we see ten in the pjs from "The Christmas Invasion" again in "Smith and Jones", i choose to believe that he liked them so much that he simply kept them. i imagine the conversation with jackie went "howard won't miss these, will he?" "miss what?" "thought not. okay thanks, bye!"

i also imagine ten makes an active effort to sleep in the pajamas as often as he's able. he sleeps about thrice as much as nine ever did, all because he's obsessed with the fun ritual of wearing them to bed.

ten actually has a mild but sensitive allergy to cats. he never realized this, not because he didn't ever have the opportunity to, but because he was always too preoccupied to piece together that the reason his psychic functions felt fuzzy and the psychic paper used a misplaced modifier and the skin near his collarbone itched was because he was in the same room as a cat five minutes ago.

this is why it took him a second to piece together what exactly was off with rose in "New Earth": his ambient telepathy was too fuzzed over from the cat nurses to notice rose's brainwaves were wrong.

having a human brain, tentoo's memory faculties are still giga-impressive for a human, but not nearly as robust as his timelord counterpart's. he still remembers events, emotions, and concepts clearly, his biggest regressions being in the categories of exact terminologies and complex mathematical processes. the loss he's most distraught about is the vast majority of languages he once knew. he can still speak and understand all earth languages and gallifreyan fluently, but his knowledge of xenolinguistics is relegated to the occasional profound vocab word he remembers fondly.

a lot of these ended up being sleep-related for whatever reason; maybe i just want the man to rest </3

[darkforestfae-tea]

How to talk to the Wind~ Air Elemental

This turned into an extremely long post. I debated on splitting it into 2 parts, but I’d rather keep it together. This took me about 2 weeks to write out! Thank you so much for reading!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

1. If the wind Falls silent, she is listening to you. Speak.

When the wind falls silent, an almost ethereal stillness takes over, creating a moment ripe for introspection and connection. It's as if nature itself has paused, holding its breath to listen. In such moments, one might feel compelled to speak, to share thoughts or emotions that have been swirling within. This silence, often rare and fleeting, can feel like an invitation to open up, to let the words flow freely and honestly. It's a reminder that communication isn't just about being heard by others but also about the cathartic act of expressing oneself.

The wind, in many cultures and literary works, symbolizes change, movement, and the passage of time. When it ceases, it can signify a moment of clarity or a break from the chaos. This stillness can be seen as a sacred space where one can connect with deeper truths or even with the universe itself. It’s an opportunity to speak without fear of judgment, knowing that the silence is there to absorb and understand rather than to critique or dismiss. In this quietude, your words can carry more weight, echoing in the stillness and perhaps resonating more deeply within yourself and the world around you.

So, when the wind falls silent and you feel that she is listening, speak with authenticity and courage. Share your innermost thoughts, dreams, and fears. Embrace the silence as a chance to communicate not just outwardly but also inwardly. Let your words be a bridge between your inner world and the still, listening universe. This is a rare and precious moment, a chance to be truly heard, even if it is just by the silence itself.

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2. Always Whisper

When speaking to an air elemental, always whisper. This subtle yet crucial guideline underscores the ethereal nature of these magical beings. Air elementals are creatures that embody the essence of wind and air, often depicted in folklore and fantasy as graceful, invisible entities or whirling vortices. Their very existence is intertwined with the gentlest breezes and the softest whispers of nature. As such, they are attuned to the delicate sounds that most mortals overlook. Speaking in a whisper not only shows respect for their domain but also allows for clearer and more harmonious communication.

Whispering to an air elemental can create a profound connection, aligning one's voice with the subtle currents of air that they inhabit. Loud or harsh sounds may disturb or even anger these beings, as they are accustomed to the serene and tranquil aspects of their element. By whispering, one communicates on a frequency that resonates with their airy essence, fostering a sense of trust and mutual understanding. This approach can be especially important for those seeking the favor or guidance of an air elemental, as it signals a willingness to meet them on their terms.

Moreover, the act of whispering can be a meditative practice for the speaker, encouraging mindfulness and a deeper awareness of the environment. It requires one to slow down and consider the impact of their words, fostering a more intentional and respectful interaction. In this way, speaking to an air elemental in whispers not only honors their nature but also enriches the speaker's own experience, creating a serene exchange that mirrors the gentle and flowing characteristics of air itself.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

3. In case there is a wind swirl carrying autumn leaves, step back. Let her dance.

In case there is a wind swirl carrying autumn leaves, step back. Let her dance. Imagine standing on a crisp autumn afternoon, with the sun casting a golden hue over the landscape. Suddenly, a playful gust of wind sweeps through, lifting the fallen leaves into a mesmerizing dance. The leaves whirl and twirl, creating a spectacle of nature's artistry. This is a moment to pause and appreciate the beauty that often goes unnoticed in our busy lives.

Every leaf in that swirl has a story. They have transformed from vibrant greens of spring and summer to the rich reds, oranges, and yellows of fall. As they float and spin, they remind us of the cyclical nature of life and the beauty in every stage of existence. The wind's choreography is spontaneous yet perfect, showing how nature can create art without any intention or effort. It’s a gentle reminder to find joy and wonder in the simplest of moments.

So, the next time you encounter a wind swirl carrying autumn leaves, step back and let her dance. Embrace the opportunity to reconnect with nature's serene and fleeting beauty. Allow yourself to be captivated by the elegant dance of the leaves, and let it inspire a sense of peace and gratitude in your heart. It’s these small, magical moments that enrich our lives and remind us of the profound beauty that surrounds us every day.

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4. Don’t go outside if the wind is howling. There are spirits passing through.

The notion that howling winds are a sign of spirits passing through has long been a staple in folklore and ghost stories. It's a belief that has been handed down through generations, often to instill a sense of caution and respect for the unseen world. When the wind howls, it can create a symphony of eerie sounds, from whispers to wails, which easily stir the imagination. These sounds can be interpreted as the voices of spirits, adding a supernatural element to the natural phenomenon.

In many cultures, the wind is considered a conduit for spirits and otherworldly beings. For instance, in ancient Greek mythology, the Anemoi were wind gods, each representing a cardinal direction and possessing distinct personalities and powers. Similarly, in Native American traditions, the wind is often seen as a messenger, carrying the voices of ancestors and spiritual beings. These cultural narratives contribute to the belief that howling winds are more than just a meteorological event—they are a moment when the veil between the physical world and the spiritual realm becomes thin.

While science explains howling winds as the result of atmospheric pressure differences and natural air currents, the enchantment of these stories persists. Whether taken literally or metaphorically, the advice to stay indoors when the wind is howling serves as a reminder of the mysteries that still captivate the human mind. It’s a poetic way to acknowledge that there are forces in the world that remain beyond our understanding and that sometimes, it's best to respect the unknown.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

5. She already knows everything about you. Never lie.

The wind elemental possesses an uncanny ability to perceive truths hidden from mortal eyes. This ancient entity, often depicted as an invisible force that flows seamlessly through the world, has a profound connection with the very essence of nature. As such, it can sense the innermost thoughts and feelings of those it encounters. To lie to the wind elemental is not only futile but also unwise, as it already knows the truths that lie beneath the surface.

When one interacts with the wind elemental, honesty and transparency are paramount. This being of air and spirit can effortlessly read the subtle nuances of human intention and emotion, much like how it reads the shifting patterns of the weather. Attempting to deceive the wind elemental would be akin to trying to hide a secret from the sky itself. It is said that those who are forthright and open with the wind elemental often find themselves rewarded with its favor, whether that be through a gentle breeze guiding them on their path or a timely gust that aids them in a moment of need.

In legends and stories passed down through generations, the wind elemental serves as a reminder of the power of truth and integrity. Its omniscience teaches that living a life of honesty and openness can lead to harmony with the world around us. Whether seeking guidance or simply coexisting with the natural forces, respecting the knowledge and wisdom of the wind elemental can lead to a more enlightened and fulfilling journey. So, when faced with the presence of this all-knowing being, remember to speak truthfully, for the wind elemental already knows everything about you.

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6. You may play the flute. (Or another wind instrument)

Playing the flute for an air spirit is a poetic and enchanting concept that bridges the realms of music and mythology. Imagine standing on a misty hilltop at dawn, the first light of day casting a golden hue over the landscape. The air is crisp and filled with the soft rustlings of the wind through the leaves. In this serene setting, you raise your flute to your lips, poised to create a melody that will resonate with the very essence of the air spirit.

The notes of the flute, light and ethereal, seem to blend seamlessly with the natural sounds around you. As you play, you can almost feel the presence of the air spirit, a delicate and invisible entity that moves with the breeze. The music you create serves as a bridge, connecting the tangible world with the intangible, inviting the air spirit to dance and play. Each melody you produce is a tribute to the freedom and fluidity of the air, embodying a sense of grace and movement that mirrors the spirit’s own nature.

This act of playing the flute for an air spirit is more than just a whimsical idea; it's a celebration of the profound connection between humans and the natural world. It speaks to our innate desire to communicate with and honor the unseen forces that influence our lives. Through the music of the flute, you are not only entertaining an air spirit but also paying homage to the beauty and mystery of the natural world, reminding us all of the magic that exists just beyond the veil of the everyday.

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7. Listen to the Storms. Don’t talk.

The symphony of the storm is a language unto itself, a dialogue of the elements that speaks in a cadence both ancient and powerful. When the wind howls and the rain pelts against the earth, it is as though the very essence of nature is communicating in a voice that transcends human speech. To understand this voice, one must listen with more than just their ears; they must open their soul to the raw, untamed energy of the wind elemental. This force of nature, unseen but deeply felt, carries messages of change, transformation, and the relentless passage of time.

To truly connect with the wind elemental, silence is key. In silence, you can feel the whispers of the wind as it dances through the branches, swirls around rocks, and sweeps across open plains. This connection is not just about hearing, but about feeling the energy and intention behind the movement of air. It’s about recognizing that the wind is more than a mere force; it is a messenger, a guide, and a companion. By listening, we honor its presence and allow its ancient wisdom to permeate our being, grounding us in the present while connecting us to the timeless dance of the natural world.

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8. She gives life to your words. Make them meaningful. Especially when you talk to her.

The wind spirit, ethereal and ever-present, dances through the trees and whispers to the leaves, carrying stories and secrets from distant lands. When you speak to her, let your words be imbued with the same grace and fluidity she embodies. Speak not just with your voice, but with your heart and soul, allowing each word to flow like a gentle breeze caressing the earth. Your words should be as vibrant and life-giving as the wind itself, breathing existence into the thoughts and emotions you wish to convey.

Imagine your words as seeds, carried on the currents of her breath, finding fertile ground in the minds and hearts of those who listen. Nurture these seeds with sincerity and intention, allowing them to grow into something beautiful and meaningful. Acknowledge the power she holds, the invisible threads she weaves through our lives, connecting us in ways we may never fully comprehend. By doing so, you honor her essence and the life she breathes into every syllable.

When you converse with the wind spirit, let your dialogue be a symphony of respect and wonder, a harmonious exchange that elevates both speaker and listener. Embrace the silence between words, for it is in those quiet moments that her true wisdom often lies. Let your words be a reflection of the natural world she so effortlessly navigates, filled with the same awe and reverence that she inspires. In this way, your words will not only carry meaning but will resonate deeply, leaving an indelible mark on the tapestry of existence.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

9. If she whispers in your ear, listen closely. It means she trusts you enough to share secrets.

When a wind spirit whispers in your ear, it is an invitation to connect with the unseen world around you. This ethereal being, often depicted as a gentle, invisible force, chooses to share its secrets with only the most attuned and trustworthy individuals. Listening closely to these whispers can be a profound experience, offering insights that transcend ordinary understanding. It is a rare and precious gift that signifies a deep bond with the natural elements and an openness to the mysteries they hold.

The secrets shared by a wind spirit can encompass a wide range of wisdom, from ancient folklore and forgotten histories to personal guidance and intuitive knowledge. These whispers might carry messages about the environment, urging you to respect and protect the earth, or they might offer personal revelations that help you navigate your own life's journey. The key is to remain open and receptive, allowing the wind spirit's voice to resonate within you without skepticism or doubt.

Embracing the whispers of a wind spirit requires a mindful and meditative approach. Find a quiet space where you can attune yourself to the subtle nuances of the wind. As you listen, let your mind and heart remain still, creating a sanctuary for the spirit's voice to be heard. In doing so, you not only honor the trust bestowed upon you but also deepen your connection to the natural world and the timeless wisdom it offers. This sacred exchange can enrich your life, guiding you with the gentle yet profound truths carried on the wind.

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10. Word travels far and fast. Don’t say anything to awake the spirits.

In many cultures around the world, the concept of words carrying immense power is a common thread. Words can travel far and fast, transcending time and space, influencing those who hear them. This is particularly true in folklore and myth, where speaking certain words can invoke spirits or other supernatural entities. The cautionary advice to "not say anything to awake the spirits" underscores the belief that words have the power to affect the unseen world, where spirits reside.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

11. She has a strong temperament and gets angry easily. Make sure you’re always nice to her. You don’t want to be on her bad side.

The wind spirit, sometimes known as Zephyra, possesses a strong and unpredictable temperament that can change as swiftly as the breeze. While she can be gentle and soothing, her anger is a force to be reckoned with. Legends say that Zephyra's fury can stir up powerful storms, uproot ancient trees, and send ships veering off course. Thus, it is wise to always approach her with respect and kindness.

To stay in Zephyra's good graces, one must be mindful of their words and actions. She values honesty and sincerity above all else, and she can sense deceit like a sudden shift in the wind. Offering small tokens of appreciation, such as delicate feathers or fragrant flowers, can also help in winning her favor. These gestures show that you honor her presence and the natural world she governs.

Remember, Zephyra's moods are as changeable as the skies. Her anger may be intense, but her forgiveness is equally profound. If you find yourself having inadvertently upset her, a heartfelt apology and a promise to be more considerate in the future can go a long way. By cultivating a relationship of mutual respect and understanding, you can enjoy the blessings of Zephyra's gentle breezes and avoid the wrath of her tempestuous gales.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

12. If she’s talking to thunder, leave them alone. They don’t want you to hear.

Imagine the mystical conversation between wind and thunder, two forces of nature that hold immense power and mystery. The wind, with its gentle whispers and fierce gales, embodies the freedom and fluidity of movement. It travels across the world, touching every corner, carrying with it the secrets of faraway lands. Thunder, on the other hand, is the voice of the storm, a booming presence that commands attention and respect. It heralds the arrival of rain and lightning, bringing a sense of awe and sometimes fear. Together, they form a dynamic duo that shapes our natural world in profound ways.

So, if you ever feel the wind rustle through the trees or hear the distant rumble of thunder, take a moment to appreciate the secret conversation happening just beyond our grasp.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

13. A sudden draft can be seen as a bad omen.

The symbolic interpretation of drafts as bad omens can also be linked to the more tangible effects they have on our environment. A sudden draft can extinguish a candle, cause a door to slam shut unexpectedly, or create eerie, unsettling noises. These occurrences can easily evoke a sense of mystery and fear, especially in dimly lit or isolated settings. Consequently, such events have become fertile ground for ghost stories and superstitions, reinforcing the idea that a draft is an indicator of something ominous or otherworldly.

Despite these traditional beliefs, it's important to view sudden drafts through a rational lens as well. Modern science offers explanations for such phenomena, attributing them to changes in air pressure, temperature differences, and architectural features of buildings. While the eerie sensation of a sudden draft can still cause a shiver down the spine, understanding its natural causes can demystify the experience. Ultimately, whether one sees a draft as a bad omen or a simple quirk of the environment often depends on the interplay between cultural beliefs and scientific knowledge.

14. Never, ever, complain about her. She will remember.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sources:

— pictures off Pinterest.

--Content taken from a list of "how to talk to the wind" The original list was bullet pointed and kept in this post as the numbers. (i.e. 1. If the wind falls silent, she is listening to you,. Speak.") I added in the paragraphs following each bullet point to go further into detail for new practitioners or anyone interested in working with the air element.

Thank you for Reading! I absolutely love sharing my knowledge & learnings with others. I try to make posts a few times a week! & they are all organized on my profile.

Until we cross paths once more! Best wishes to all you wonderful witches! Warm regards, Tea.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

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[blushcoloreddreams]

7 tips for a thriving journal

Hello and welcome back to the blog my love!

I have been move to speak on the matter of journaling many times before, and today, with the new years spirit still around and everyone adding goals and new habits to their lives, I thought it would be nice to take pen to paper or rather... binary code to screen, and discuss the 7 ways you can improve your journaling life!

1. Read more

I’ll have to be honest with you guys ... the fact is that you are NEVER going to enjoy writing unless you also enjoy READING the written word. Now, we don't need to be cozying up in the evening with our personal diaries as reading material, but I have found that the more I read, the better (and more frequently) I write!

Reading more will stimulate your writing, inspire your words, and most of all, remind you that plenty of people have written millions of words on paper, and you can get through a daily journal entry. ;)

2. Get a pen you actually like

This might sound crazy, but I promise that you WILL write more if you enjoy the type of pen you're using. When I switched over to a really inky black gel pen, I found my cursive gliding over the page at RECORD speeds! It was simply a joy to write! So ditch that creepy pencil, say no to promotional pens, and pick out a cute gel pen!

3. Bring your journal with you everywhere

Most of us don't sit down at 8pm every evening and take pen to paper, outlining our days. Most of us have fluctuating schedules, thought-lives, and energy levels. I have found that bringing my journal with me has helped me write more often, get better ideas, and just... enjoy writing much more!

It changes from a chore to a full-on CHOICE! I encourage you to get a smallish journal and pull that baby out when you're waiting at the dealership, grabbing a coffee, or just... killing time while waiting for your date! It definitely beats scrolling through Instagram, and you will find that catching your most interesting thoughts before they flutter away is HIGHLY satisfying!

4. Use it to sort out your emotions

I remember tearing into my bedroom after a particularly negative ninth grade school day. I threw myself on my bed, snatched a pretty journal I had but never had found use for and began furiously writing about being ditched by my friends after a some intense political debate that took over not only school but the country in 2018 and even if I stayed neutral at the time, the opinion of people close to me was enough for them to slowly exclude me. Instead of wailing, crying, or screaming at my friends, I screamed at my journal. And it was SATISFYING!

As an adult reading back on my impassioned ninth grade emotions, it's shocking to me how intense I felt at the time, but I also find myself feeling quite grateful to have those feelings immortalized forever. I've always done this: recorded my intense emotions, good OR bad. When I fall in love with, my journal becomes filled with my heart's longings and thoughts from our very first weeks. I promise you, either way It’s a cathartic experience that will not only help you process and rationalize what you feel at that moment but also record those feelings and adventures for the future.

When I went through grief and really bad times, my feelings were also sprawled across the pages forever. And sometimes, I like to reflect upon those feelings to remind myself how far I've come, or of what our first love felt like. Journaling helps you work through your emotions, but it also helps catalogue your life in a really meaningful way. Try taking to the pages when you're struggling, in pain, or feeling supremely happy. :)

5. Rotate your writing & topics

In order to stimulate your writing, it's important to rotate through different topics AND different styles of writing. Instead of just writing daily journal entries about your life, try your hand at different categories. I enjoy writing short stories, poetry, daily diary entries, personal thoughts about cultural and social current events, things I wanna learn more about, my goals and future blog ideas!

You could write song lyrics, poetry, novel ideas, blog ideas; the sky is the limit! I encourage you also to not only try writing about different topics, but also try rotating the WAY you write as well. You don't necessarily need to write with a physical pen on paper every time either. Sometimes I prefer opening up google docs, or even this very blog!

6. Use it to connect with God

I like to write out my prayers sometimes... especially if they're really meaningful like prayers of repentance, supplication, or long lists of what I'm grateful to God for. It can help to stimulate your prayer life, AND keep a record of your personal spiritual breakthroughs.

7. Write letters to people

When my father died, we haven’t been in contact for a while but I felt like I still had much to say, words that I wished I had externalized before his passing. However there was nothing stopping me to write to him, even if it felt a bit silly and I knew he’d never read them, it could help calm my mind. So I decided to writing him a few letters could help me cope better with what had just happened, better understand our relationship and even myself.

Now, at first, it can sound pretty unappealing to write to someone who couldn't write back, but before I knew it, it felt like one of the best cathartic experiences I ever had. When my beloved great grandma passed I found myself writing longer and longer letters, detailing different thoughts, and even throwing in some creative writing. I spent so much time sharing my thoughts, feelings, ideas, and heart, that by the end of this all, I felt like I was already in the habit of daily journaling LOL!

So, if you need a spark for your writing habits, I encourage you to start sending some letters to your family members, friends or find a pen pal, I actually loved writing letters on peoples birthdays when I was younger and it was something I really enjoyed rediscovering. Even if the person doesn't write back much, it can really jumpstart your writing!

That's all I have for today my loves! I hope you feel inspired to start writing. Remember, if the notebook life doesn't work out for you, it's okay to turn to the digital keyboard! Just keep trying different angles until you settle on the right formula for you.

xoxo, Julia

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Fraturday everyone (oops, I'm late!) Back again with another round of the fic I've been reading this week. You can find previous rec lists here.

A reminder I'm here for all buddie/bucktommy/buddietommy configurations, and I'm always on the lookout for more henren fic to read, so please send author and story recs my way! (Feel free to self rec!!!)

15 June 2024

looking for shelter from the cold and the pain by @itsactuallycorrine is a post-7x10 summer fic, from Christopher's perspective. In which after communication is cut off and Chris is in Texas, both Eddie and Buck continue to send emails to keep in touch, and he reads them even if he doesn't respond. They get increasingly more confessional in tone. I really loved how Chris' understanding of them both as people and the revelations they share help him find peace, without glossing over the difficulties and pain caused. Hints of Buddie (and background Bucktommy break up) but mostly about realising parents make mistakes and growing up. A really lovely Chris voice. (Once you've read this one, go read this never would've happened in a catholic high school in which Chris comes home from an inclusive sex ed class with questions. Hilarious and sweet!)

your wings will find you heaven by elizabethgee a post-7x09 and 10 Buck vs Captain Gerrard fic (with Bucktommy) heed the tagged warnings on this one, it's dark and potentially triggering, but taken very seriously. Tommy is nervous when he hears that Gerrard is interim Captain. Buck thinks he can handle it. But things take a difficult turn, and Gerrard's ability to pinpoint and press on a perceived weak spot like caring for others means Buck's put in a horrible position. Cathartic and ultimately triumphant, I just want to give Buck a damn hug for being so brave.

like a bird stealing bread out from under your nose by @cal-daisies-and-briars 'If you’d asked Eddie back in May what rock bottom looked like, it was his son leaving him. That felt like it; everything ruined so entirely that there was no way to ruin it further. There’s always more to lose.' An Eddie Diaz breakdown fic, in which he self destructs and monumentally fucks up with Buck as well, but puts in the work to try and fix it. I particularly enjoyed the focus on Eddie reclaiming the joy in personal hobbies in this one, giving himself space and permission to be his own person.

odd man out by  @messyhairdiaz is an eddietommy focused buddietommy fic! Hooray! In which Eddie's self doubt makes him question whether it's all too good to be true and the triad relationship they've stumbled into is working for Tommy, so Buck convinces them both to go on a solo date. I really loved the communication and negotiation of this, and the lovely dynamic that they're working towards. Plus it's just delightfully flirty. Bless you poly fic, I'm smooching you on the mouth.

Got Your Six by @sonofatoasterwaffle oh god...oh my god. The buddietommy voyeurism BDSM fic. Literally the hottest version of Tommy? He plays them all like a symphony. 'After Buck has a bad experience with a dom, Eddie decides that if Buck wants to scene, he’ll do it with Eddie there to chaperone or not at all. Tommy decides he's cool with that if it means he gets to be the meat in their weird, codependent BDSM sandwich.' Just *chefs kiss* Eddie's down bad and Buck is the sweetest little sub in this, give him directions and show him off!

all the vices i can't give up by @theweewooshow is a smutty Bucktommy phone sexting fic, with an alternative getting together scenario (aka they're unapologetically horny about it.) Buck accidentally sends Tommy a picture of himself with water dripping down his chest, Tommy takes the bait. Things escalate! Lots of fun and very hot.

seeing you with him just don't feel right (you're giving me a heart attack) by @bellabrady based on THAT Brooklyn Nine-Nine episode - in which Buck and Eddie kill Captain Gerrard in the most hilarious way possible. The firefam banter in this is just absolute top notch. Glorious and so so funny. It's what he deserves.

Special Occasions by @pop-me Henren smut and feelings! 'After Buck comes out in S7E6, Hen and Karen reflect on their own first queer loves and intense, romantic sex ensues.' OP's tags promise romantic fisting and well howdy do they deliver! Love when Hen and Karen are celebrated as sexy as hell.

this is it ( the thing everyone's looking for) by diabolicaldean the latest in a collection of Henren one shots, this one is a sweet gentle fluffy piece that celebrate the Wilson family, with the soft place to land that Mara deserves. God I hope season 8 cuts them a break!!

a miserable pile of secrets by @glorious-spoon a post 7x09 fic, in which Buck and Eddie argue, and Hen lends Eddie and ear and gives some tough love. I really appreciated how much this lent into the messy thorny nature of fucking up and fixing things, and owning your mistakes. Hen's perspective is really well drawn.

Okay I'll stop here because it's getting long, but see you all next week!

[taming-bats]

Batfam Crime Family Breakdown

I made a Crime Family au for a OC fic I'm writing, but the dynamics were too interesting to pass up diving into.

So, I present to you the Mask Family! #1 Crime monopoly in Gotham. Descriptions for Alfred, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian are under the cut!

Bruce - AKA Black Mask. Head of the Crime family, and basically king of Gotham. After his parents were killed when he was a young boy and was handed a multi-million dollar company at the age of 9, he had focused on a sense of control. He sees Gotham/Gothamites like they can’t help it, and simply don’t know any better. He will know better for them. Other people might have similar backgrounds or share his feelings on the idea of protecting the city from itself, bu no one has the resources he does, nor the determination to do something. 

He created the alias of the Black Mask and infiltrated every underground and back alley system until he runs them all. Bruce Wayne and Black Mask basically are the monopoly of night and day in Gotham. You can’t go anywhere without seeing their influence. He’s brutal when it comes to insubordination or even the hint of mutiny. Truly thinks he’s doing the right thing to keep crime as low as possible. Think’s he is doing what he can to protect his family and his city. He’s softened over the years due to his family, and because he’s grown his network where he never has to get his hands dirty unless he wants to. Loves his kids dearly though is tough on them when it comes to the family business. 

“Mr. Wayne! Could you give us a comment on the recent movements of the Black Mask? Does it pain you to share your city with such a ruthless man?”

Bruce Wayne gives a smile, that tight, pained one he gives whenever reports ask about the Crime Lord. The media eats it up. No matter what he says, they read into his expression and think it must be heartbreaking for him to know not even he could touch the King of Gotham.

Alfred - AKA Agent Alpha. Like canon, he follows Bruce down the path he takes. In the first couple years of Bruce’s building of the Mask, he voiced his concerns about Bruce’s methods. However, having been trained in special ops himself, he understood that while some situations required a skilled hand, others required a boot to the neck. He adapted and became the guiding hand Bruce needed, and is still Bruce’s number one confidant and ally. 

“Black Mask? Black Mask!” the comm had crackled dead in Alfred ear. He huffs and pushes himself up out of the chair. That boy was going to get himself killed in this mission of his. Drug dealers and gang members- What would Martha and Thomas think if they could see the two of them now? 

Alfred does not let himself linger long on the thought as he grabs the keys and his own version of the Mask. No matter his hesitance at the start, he knew that there was no stopping Bruce now that he has his mind to it. He would save this city or die trying. He grabs his shotgun off the wall. 

Dick - (24) AKA Blue Mask. First to come into the Mask family. His story here is the same for the most part. Some mob tried to take control of the circus- since it's traveling it's not technically in Black Mask’s territory. They are wrong <3. Feeling responsible for not having enough control to prevent the Grayson murders, Bruce Wayne fosters and adopts Dick Grasyon. However, Bruce in this iteration is more open with sharing his secret with Dick as he sees himself in the young boy. He invites Dick to join his crusade to help the city, and let’s Dick be the one to pull the trigger against the men who killed his family. It’s cathartic for the both of them, and a very cementing bonding experience. Dick is Bruce’s shadow for most of his young life, seeing Bruce in his most brutal/hands on years. At some point, Dick “graduates” to having a Mask of his own, and is now Blue Mask. 

Dick stays in Gotham in this au. Dick is the eldest of the Mask family and loves his growing family dearly. He learned quickly about the lengths one should go to to protect the ones they love. To him, all of his siblings are the same age as when they entered the house. They are his babies and he will murder for them. He is Bruce’s number one informant.

“There you go, little wing! Hold it just like that and keep your shoulders back. When you feel ready, pull the trigger.” His hands give an encouraging squeeze to his brother's shoulders before taking a step back. He watches as Jason takes a breath and pulls the trigger. He catches him with a laugh when the kickback jolts his small frame. “Good job! That looked like a headshot to me, you're a natural!” Jason looked up at him with shining eyes, and Dick looked back with all the pride in the world. “Let’s show Bruce.”

Jason -  (19)  AKA Red Mask. Bruce found him on the streets when he was young- Yes, he was stealing from THE Black Mask and yes, Jason fought with a tire iron and claws to get away from him at the start. Jason thought Black Mask would make an example out of him, show that even kids weren’t an exception in Gotham. But Bruce took one look at the small, malnourished but resilient boy and fell in love with him. Jason, to Bruce, represents all the kids that he was too late to save. But he could save Jason. Bruce brought him home and exposed his secret immediately, as if Jason was already his son. The reasons Jason stayed were years behind them now, and he’s proven himself time and time again to be Bruce’s perfect foot soldier. He trained under Dick and Bruce and was rewarded with the title and role of a Mask much younger than Dick. 

Jason and Bruce had a big fight when he was 16 (probably having to do with who would be inheriting the Black Mask role in the future) in which Jason ran away. Knowing all of Black Masks tricks, he’s able to stay under the radar for a little bit less than a year. It breaks Bruce’s heart and infuriates him. He misses his son and is spiraling at the lack of control and is forced to conclude that he’s going to have to punish Jason if/when he finds him. Which he does, but more on that later. At the present day, Bruce and Jason still butt heads in Jason’s attempt to prove that he can be a leader if Bruce just lets him. Bruce is content in keeping the boys in the roles they have for as long as he can. There are many debates on which Mask was the most intimidating, but everyone can agree that you never want Red Mask to be sent after you. 

“I’ll take the lower Eastside-” 

“Good idea.” Black Mask cuts him off, “Blue, you’re with Red tonight.”

“What?” Jason snaps, “No way, I can do it by myself.” Black Mask gives him a look that Jason can decipher even through the unchanging skull mask. This wasn’t the night to start a debate. Jason clicks his teeth, “Fine.” Black Mask gives him a pat on the head as he passes and a burning of embarrassment and fulfillment comes from the approval. He slaps away Blue’s hand when he tries to copy the movement, to which Dick whines with disappointment. 

Tim -  (17) AKA Yellow Mask. When Gotham sees a heavy crack down for a few months, it’s a near complete cut off from the rest of the world. It shows what Black Mask could do, which scares a lot of people. But not Tim Drake. Tim Drake sees the opportunity for what it is. Unlike the rest of the world, who haven't a clue about the why, 10 year old Tim Drake marches up to Wayne Manor and asks to speak to Black Mask himself. Tim, the child, had known about the Mask family identity for a full year. And now Tim, the child, was offering to help Black Mask, the Crime Lord. Because Tim Drake knew where Jason was. Tim had known the entire time (a fact that Tim does not share.) 

(He also doesn’t share the photos. The maps. The red string. He takes his time and eases the family into his presence, and then, into his hobbies.) Tim inserts himself into the Mask Family, brings Jason back, and simply stays. Jason and he have some tension because of this. Tim is happy staying in the shadows of the operation because it gives him a purpose behind all his odd interests and gives him challenges to grow from. He kinda gets the Mask title against his will but secretly is over the moon about it. He wants to be useful. He becomes Wayne Enterprises Co-CEO, and is Bruce’s eyes and ears. 

“That's Debbie. She’s the head accountant on the Relay case, 5th floor.” Bruce nods to Tim’s words and Tim pretends not to preen at the knowledge that someone was listening to him. Bruce gives a hum and an ever-so-slight gesture to a man across the room with his glass of scotch. “Oh, Walter. He’s been skimming funds off his department budget for 5 months now. 14th floor.” Bruce raises an eyebrow and looks at him. “He’ll get cocky soon. See the watch? He bought it this week. That's nothing compared to what his internet history suggests.” 

Damian - (12) AKA Green Mask. There’s not much to change here. Damian came into Bruce’s life at 8, already trained to kill. Something of a gift from the al Gul’s. Damian is just as brutal as Bruce was in his early years, but Bruce focuses on helping Damian be a child again. All Bruce wants is to be close with his son, much to Damian’s early protests. Bruce is terrible about spoiling Damian and letting him get away with things because Damian is the baby of the family. Because of this, Damian is Bruce’s trigger. Especially for the jobs that have to be done swiftly and quietly. 

Damian realizes that there is more to learn then ways to kill, and learns from Dick about the ways of manipulation, how to present oneself to get what you want. With this, Damian often acts younger than he is to appear innocent and lovable. He tried to kill each one of Bruce’s kids at least once when he first came into the house, but after several impressive retaliations, Damian has seen their strength and recognizes how much he can learn from them. The caring nicknames and affectionate hugs were things that he pretends to only tolerate, but he becomes insufferable if he doesn’t receive affection from them. 

“But Father, you promised!” Damian stamps his foot, letting the echo of the cave give the action more grandiose than it actually felt. Bruce responds to his childish outbursts more than his calculative reasoning. 

Bruce sighs, kneeling down and cupping Damian’s face with gentle hands, “Yes, I know, Dami. But that was before you handcuffed Tim to the stairway railing for three hours.” 

Damian crosses his arms and sets a pout to his lips, “He could have gotten out of them if he wanted to,” He mumbles. 

“That is not the point and you know that, darling.”

________________________

Bonus:

Damian texting at 1am after not receiving a single pat on the head from his brothers all day: inshallah you will wake in the depths of nightmares most vile

Dick a millisecond later: bb bat wdym?? :(

[adragonsfriend]

Reading Darth Plagueis,

by James Luceno.

Ok I finished this book. It was a wild ride, here are some highlights, (anything in quotes, " ", is in fact, a direct quote). Spoilers, I guess.

———

“At some point, probably when he was focused on murder, a rock or other projectile had pulped a large area of his lower back.”--Plagueis

Yeah man that always happens to me too when I’m focused on murder

———

Me thinking, *Plagueis is way too normal for a sith,* about five seconds before the narration goes *Plagueis was hungry. he thought about eating the eggs of some sentient lizards and also the sentient lizards themselves, but restrained himself*

———

Plagueis, a banker: nOt all mUNns R bAnkErS u kNoW

A pirate who wants a bribe: be better for you if you were some financial wizard

Plagueis, a literal wizard:

———

Captain La (the random pirate): how do u know my name

Plagueis: *truthing* I sliced you ship’s systems,

Plagueis: *lying* it’s not like I’m a telepath or something

———

*at the evil rich people party*

"Republic senators, at least those that weren’t present, would be subjected to ridicule—"

I love how the narration says "subjected" like Bail Organa would give fuck about some assholes making fun of him

———

Plagueis in a business meeting as hego damask:

Repeats himself multiple times conducting experiments in trying to force suggest to a resistant species

His assistant: bro what r u doing ur making us look bad

———

omg young Palpatine is so Anakin coded. Genuinely he throws tantrums it’s perfect

———

Tag this accidental baby acquisition some random dathomiri lady just handed maul over like a sac of potatoes

———

Sidious, about to gaslight, girlboss, gatekeep, mansplain, manipulate, and threaten to manslaughter Nute Gunray within an inch of his life all in the span of a 2 minute zoom call: *wearing his Sith cloak on their holocall* what is up my guy? did u get the rare collectible bird I sent u anonymously a while back?

Nute Gunray: uhh…yes…um… its very nice…who are you and why r u hiding in that hood bro?

Sidious: it's the traditional clothing of my Order

Gunray: ur a cleric?

Sidious: "Do I seem like a holy man to you?"

Me: the only holes I see here are in your logic, morals, ability to feel compassion, and *waves hand all encompassingly* vibes

———

Dooku: if one more Jedi dies because of the indolence of the republic, I’ll leave the Jedi and refuse to look back

Palpatine: *listening attentively*

———

Plagueis & Maul: (separately) gloat about being Sith Lords to people they’re about to kill

Sidious:

Sidious: these idiots cannot keep a secret to save their lives—

———

Plagueis ACTUALLY believes Sidious is about to appoint him co-chancellor. what an idiot.

———

Padme shocking both Sith at every turn during the Naboo crisis is sending me

———

Oooh Sidious' murder rant is incredible. He's like Plagueis you manipulated and abused me, now i'm gonna kill you so I can go do that to other people without you hanging over my shoulder. It's like the evil but still cathartic version of Zuko's speech to Firelord Ozai.

———

Dooku: That zabrak guy was definitely a Sith. There has to be another one, probably the master

Sidious, standing right next to him in a shadowy warehouse wearing a black cloak: “how would one even begin to know where to look for this other Sith?”

———

“For an instant, Palpatine perceived a touch of his younger self in Skywalker”

This book needs to stop. Maybe consider pulling its punches sometime. The only mark of disapproval I have here is that this is portraying Obi-Wan as an asshole for the five seconds he’s present

———

Bad news, the book did indeed stop. I have been gravely injured, but also greatly amused. The experience of reading this book is just constant vacillation between *wow so Sith Lord, so scary, so evil* and *Plagueis, my guy, that is the dumbest ideology I’ve ever heard. maybe if you took a nap (for the first time in 20 years) you’d finally say something that made sense*

I will also confess that I was taking detailed notes about Plagueis for an AU idea I have that I will not be starting for at least another year because I am married to BHOT and I refuse to be like the rest of you sorry fucks with 17 wips (ignoring that fanfic is in fact the only genre of writing I do not have at least 17 wips in)

[ersatz-ostrich]

Wolffe x f!Officer!Reader: One and Only

[A/N]: Bullying sucks, and for some reason, a lot of anti-bullying campaigns seem to make bullies nastier. I can't say if those campaigns succeeded, though, because I feel like the term 'bully' itself has been beaten to death. This oneshot is an edited, old work that I had deleted a few years ago. My younger self wrote this hoping for a cathartic escape from my past experiences with bullies. If it's a little overdone, that's why - but I hope some of you know what it was like, too. I hope you got the support you needed during those times, but if you didn't, I genuinely hope you will, sooner better than later.

Summary: Y/N, a naval officer spending most rotations on a Venator-class star destroyer, has loved and cherished Commander Wolffe as a partner for months now. They've always managed to stay in touch and pretty much nothing could break their bond—that is, other than the scathing comments of the critical and envious.

Warnings: Bullying and self-esteem issues.

read it here on ao3

"Ugh! How did Y/N ever get promoted to naval officer? She’s such a bitch ," A voice hissed from beyond the steel corridor of the Venator-class star destroyer, namely, the Reverence.

"It's unbelievable! And they say she's Commander Wolffe's girlfriend." Another voice added. 

From the far end of the hallway, you sighed, keeping your eyes glued to your datapad. The snide comments of gossipy subordinates and snarky superior officers were starting to eat away at what little confidence you held onto. The fact that they'd even mentioned Wolffe twisted their dagger-like insults into the very flesh of your psyche. 

Taking a sharp left into the control room, you wished that their eyes could refrain from boring straight into your back and following your bowed head past the glowing table to where the Admiral stood. 

"Admiral." He nodded in acknowledgement of your entrance.

"L/N. Have you received word from General Koon about our strategy for the offense?"

"I just received the transmission, sir. I came to inform you that he has approved our strategy and is willing to put it to the test." You answered, handing him your datapad.

"Thank you, officer. You may go now." You nodded and strode right out of the room and right into a gaggle of medbay nurses—civilians from a volunteer corp, terribly patronizing and unbelievably annoying—who immediately scattered, tittering with laughter. 

"Maker, I’m so glad I don’t have to wear the Navy uniform. Y/N L/N takes the olive out of olive-drab." One of the medbay nurses remarked as the group disappeared down the corridor, your full name rolling off of her tongue harshly, each syllable pronounced in repulsive mockery. You instinctively clutched your datapad, focusing on the deep black of space from outside the Reverence. Somewhere out there, Wolffe is waiting for me, you thought to yourself. Let's hope he hasn't forgotten about me.

Somewhere, several systems away, Commander Wolffe ducked into a canvas tent. The sound of LAATs soaring overhead, the revving of speeder bikes, and overall commotion filled his ears—but he paid no attention to the din as he quickly punched a code into his holoprojector. After a few minutes of dialing, a familiar blue hologram finally appeared in the palm of his hand.

“Wolffe?" Your voice, although crackling with signal static, was music to Wolffe's ears.

"Y/N!" He smiled for the first time in days, the smile reaching his eyes that had become shadowed from many sleepless nights. "How’s work on the Reverence?" You shook your head.

"Well, it's been a lot like the usual." You answered, sighing. You didn’t feel like lying to Wolffe anymore—’good’ just didn’t sum up your experience at all. "I don't think a whole lot of people like me on this ship." Wolffe's smile immediately disappeared. 

"What makes you think that?" 

"It's just...I always hear this mechanic or that nurse talking behind my back. It's like they don't bother to hide it anymore." You rambled. "I hate it. I wish they'd issued me a bucket like yours to wear so I wouldn't have to show my face in front of a bunch of people who absolutely detest my ugly face!" You clenched your fists, making wrinkles in your olive-drab uniform pants.. Watching you hold back tears, Wolffe solemnly wished that he could be physically present to comfort you and hold you in his arms. 

"Y/N..." He averted his eyes, the cogs turning in his head. "I wish I could just tell all of those di'kuts to stop—"

"Wolffe, you don't have to." You interrupted him, expression caught between twisted despair and an apologetic smile. "I'm used to it, but all of this bantha shit gets to me sometimes." Wolffe chuckled quietly, sending butterflies fluttering into your stomach.

"I'm sorry you have to go through all of this, Y/N. I promise we'll be together soon." His eyes were sincere, despite his cybernetic eye. As he spoke, Sinker poked his head into the canvas tent. 

"Commander? We're still waiting on bacta. Do you really think we should consider buying bacta from the locals?" The clone inquired, jerking his thumb to where the medical tent was pitched.

"They know that we can't tell the difference between real bacta and watery jelly..." Wolffe grumbled. "Give me a moment." Sinker ducked back out of the tent, and Wolffe returned to his call. 

"What was that about?" You inquired, cocking your head in questioning. 

"Sorry Y/N, Sinker just popped in with a question." Wolffe paused, thinking quickly. "Say, Y/N. We're running out of bacta at the camps, but the locals cultivate and sell it. I don't know if we should buy it, 'cause we don't know if it's legitimate or not, and if it's actually medical grade." You pondered for a moment, searching your memory for whatever had been scribbled into the reg books of years past about Wolffe's particular dilemma.

"Hmm...what you can do is check samples of the bacta they sell to make sure it's legit. Real bacta has a thin but slimy consistency, like that of sticky porridge rations, you know what I mean? Make sure it isn't watered down.” You stated. “Oh, and the preferred kind of bacta that we typically use is mostly clear or tinged blue from the added drugs. It should also have a certain smell, kind of pungent because of the bacteria cultures in it but also kind of like the chemical additives it contains." 

Wolffe listened intently as you listed the specifications of medical-grade bacta. He enjoyed hearing you talk, especially about something you were well-versed in or passionate about—he could see the admiration glimmering in your eyes, and what confidence you had finally began to show itself. You could read him a whole reg book and he’d be riveted. 

"So, as long as it meets the requirements for standard bacta, you can buy it. As long as it doesn't cost an LAAT and a few DC-15s, I guess." You concluded with a quiet chuckle.

"That's all I need to know, Y/N. You're a life-saver, I mean it." Wolffe answered with a sincere smile. He clambered off of the munitions crate he had been using as a seat and shifted his gaze to the commotion outside of his little canvas nook. From within the hologram, you saluted. 

"No problem, Wolffe. I'll see you around, I guess." 

"I'll be with you as soon as I find time, Y/N. I promise." Wolffe murmured, eyes softening. 

"I'll be waiting."

Wolffe did end up striking up a bargain with the planet's natives, heading back to the camp with crates full of bacta. He'd memorized your instructions from the beginning to the end—check the viscosity, the color, and the smell. With your trusty advice, Wolffe inspected the bacta carefully with his medics.

       "This is some good bacta." One of the medics whistled, hauling the last of the load into the rather haphazardly set up medical tent. “How much did you say you bought it for, Commander?” Ducking under the coarse fabric, Wolffe nodded in agreement and replied absentmindedly, thoughts wandering to the many misfortunes that could have unfolded had you not been there to guide him.

Many, many parsecs away, you gazed at the stars through thick transparisteel with forlorn eyes. Your many tormenters—one of which included your own conscience—taunted you, but their voices became muffled as you diverted your focus to a different, more uplifting hypothetical, wondering on about the pit of shame you would have been wallowing in had Wolffe not picked you up out of the pile of bantha shit you'd gotten yourself into simply by introducing yourself to a crew that wished you'd never existed. 

Every minute he had to spare, he was attempting to patch through a transmission in hopes of cheering you up. He could have picked anyone to surrender his love to—someone more beautiful, more confident—but he had to pick you.

       "Officer L/N. The Admiral wants you on the bridge." One of the OODs' voices crackled onto the comm on your sleeve, snapping you out of your star-studded reverie. Peeling your eyes away from the glimmering beauty of space, you dashed for the elevator.        

       "Tell him that I'll be there in a few." You called out while slipping into the lift. The door opened to the command bridge, where the admiral stood admiring the vacuum of deep space as you had a couple of floors below.

“L/N." He began. "General Koon has informed me that the offensive against Separatist blockades has succeeded. Moderate to minimum damage and little casualties." Excitement began to bubble from within you. "He states that no other officer could have created an attack plan as brilliant and niche as yours, L/N. He considers you to be one of his best tacticians."

"I am honored to receive such praise from General Koon, Admiral. I only consider this a part of my duty as a strategic officer." 

"You certainly should be, L/N. This assault was one of our campaign's most successful by far. We have scheduled shore leave in two rotations, L/N. Keep up the good work." With a curt nod, you pivoted on your heels and exited the bridge.

Every inch of Wolffe's body was tingling with electric excitement. He couldn't possibly wait a second longer until he could finally hold you in his arms, unlike the incorporeal hologram he'd been speaking to for endless rotations. As the Reverence entered the atmosphere and his ship neared the hangar's tractor beams, he felt as if he could feel your Force signature on the ship, even though he wasn't Force-sensitive. 

The ship slowed to a stop, backing into the hangar bay. Wolffe was quick to jump down the ramp and onto the hangar, much to the surprise of his brothers and commanding officer still on board.

"Are you in a rush, Commander?" Quipped said commanding officer. The Kel Dor Jedi was making his way down the ramp, watching amusedly as Wolffe searched the bustling hangar for what seemed to be nothing in particular. 

"Yeah, where are you going so quickly?" Comet inquired, appearing from within the ship with Sinker and Boost on his heels. "Maybe he's looking for his girlfriend ," he whispered to the two, who cast knowing, side-eyed glances at each other.

You were cloistered away in your office, agonizing over several datapads and a rather large and complicated star map. Anxiously running a hand through your hair, your eyes flitted from one barrage of glowing blue Aurebesh to another. 

"Our campaign, our offensive." You muttered frantically. "I can feel the dark circles under my eyes growing." You pulled up yet another intricate star map, this time depicting a different sector. "Intel says there's a blockade here, here, and here...there, too..." 

Your thought process had already been set into motion as you first inspected the loose estimates of the Separatist numbers. Then, according to that, you instinctively began to formulate the optimal course of action—after months of long nights of studying for exams and even longer nights of strategizing aboard the Reverence and formerly the Triumphant, formulating battle strategies like so had become second nature to you. 

"The last two-pronged 'bident' attack might have been successful upon deployment of the Y-wings, but can we really guarantee the success—or predict the failure—of a Y-wing bombing run or a Torrent fighter attack?" You mused. 

"Oh my Force, she's back at it again..." You heard a fellow naval officer groan from across the office. “Karking hell, shut the kriff up!”

"Back again at what, exactly?" A familiarly gruff voice nearly made you trip over your abandoned desk chair from standing up so quickly. The big-mouthed officer from the other side of the office shut himself up immediately, standing ramrod straight and saluting stiffly. Prying your eyes away from the star maps, you saw the most welcome sight of all—Wolffe, tossing his helmet to the ground with a clatter as lurched over your desk to cup your face in his warm, gloved hands. You shimmied around your closet-like office space to throw your arms around his neck, closing in for a passionate and well-deserved kiss, filled with all of the emotions that had lost themselves in all of the sleepless nights you'd spent apart. 

"You don't know how happy I am to see you again." You breathed, melting in his embrace. Admiring the facial features that had been the object of ridicule by your bullies, Wolffe showed an air of concern at the dark shadows making themselves prominent under your drained-looking eyes. 

"You don't look too good, mesh’la. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Sleep can wait when an entire fleet is at risk." You answered, slipping out of his arms and making your way out of the office. You sat yourself back down at your cluttered desk, putting your head in your hands. Wolffe opted to lean against the doorframe.

"I heard from General Plo that your strategy was a success." Wolffe began. "He thinks very highly of you, Y/N."

"And so I've heard." You droned sardonically, peering at the clone commander from over your hands. "The Admiral told me all about it. How was your ground campaign?"

"Well, your advice worked wonders for our medical team. Your instructions alone saved dozens of good men out there, Y/N." 

"I'm just doing my job, Wolffe. It's all in a day's work. Any other borderline competent naval officer could have told you how to buy bacta." You replied. Wolffe sighed, taking a seat atop your desk and grasping your hands.

"You've gotta be bluffing. I can't think of any other officer who takes control of a situation like you do." 

"Really? I'm not that special."

"Are you kidding me, Y/N? Have you really been listening in on whatever those grunts are saying? Look at you." Wolffe released your hands and reached over to let a hand graze over your cheek. "Look at the wit in those eyes. You're smarter than what you give yourself credit for." Before Wolffe could continue, your comm chirped.

“Officer L/N speaking,”

"Officer?" The Admiral’s voice made you jump. "I wanted you to know that General Koon and I have put in a good word for you on the subject of promotion to a higher rank that is to be determined." 

"Really?" You sat up in your office chair, staring incredulously at your comm.

“Congratulations, L/N. Keep up the good work.”

"Need I say more?" Wolffe cast you a lopsided smile, eyes twinkling. "You're one of a kind, Y/N. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise." He pulled you in for a kiss. 

"One of a kind, huh?" You mumbled into the kiss.

"That's right." Wolffe firmly believed that there wasn't a single person in the galaxy that could compare to you. Your ingenuity, astuteness, and acuity illuminated the black-and-white, never-ending crusade he had been born into.

“You’re my one and only.”

Thanks for reading - I really appreciate it.

Let me know if you want to be a part of my general or Star Wars taglists.

[anderperrylover]

THOUGHTS? DEAD POET'S SOCIETY EDITION

Just thoughts I wanted to get out there

So Dead Poet's Society? Right? Now that I think of it was a film that came out when my dad was in his like late teens (technically he was around the same age as some of the cast). And somehow this film - made and released during their time has been one that resonated with the next generation? I am looking at the film and thinking, and I couldn't help but wonder.

I am not talking specifically about the aesthetic or anything but namely how this one film was definitely not made for my demographic. However - 35 or so years later I read a post here or come across a playlist or an edit or a series of head canons - I see how much this single film has impacted generations who came after.

I relate to this film on a very personal level (put the shipping factors aside). I remember watching scenes with Neil and I could almost recall having similar conversations in life and I had to take a step back and think as to why I wanted to block this film out for a while. I resonated with Todd as a writer but also as someone who had a very similar experience (shy - lack of confidence - but one who found their people). Other than that there were relationships within the story that made me look back at the ones I have and had and all that I am grateful for.

Also as a coming of age film I feel like it is one of the most realistic ones out there. The themes and the extremely bittersweet ending are raw and it hit me like a pile of bricks. The fact that they fell apart because of the things they loved - the heart of the group not being there made things drift apart - and those dreamers and poets who speak out are the ones to leave behind a deeply flawed system (and the cause and reason and leaving is depicted in extremely sad ways - they might give up on everything - or be kicked out for what they believed in - or carry extreme guilt for the rest of their lives) - There are those who fall in love and the ones that betray you and all of that can happen in just a few month. Things that took years to build like friendships and fellowships can crumble because of something external and all you believed in might not fix that.

(Also something weird just jog my memory if I am wrong but throughout the film these three use O Captain, My Captain - and its all in important moments - The last one to use it is Todd - Which I just think just captures his growth - he's taken up the confidence brought by two of his closest friends and a teacher who changed his life for at least a small fraction in time)

I had a few teachers in my life like Keating. They are the reason I never gave up on writing or doing things I love. They gave me reason to believe that I had something small I could put to use - I had a teacher who taught me at 14 who told me to never give up writing and another teacher who told me to continue writing poetry - another who showed to me that I should continue to fall in love with reading - another who showed me that the world was beyond the academics (as I studied classics - it was far more than that cookie cutter stereotype) - Also Keating as a teacher who actually listens - who is there to guide and help the boxes that literally hold students in uniformity

I don't know why - and how a film from the past can have such an impact on me in the 21st century - Very few films have impacted me in this manner and most of the films that have impacted me in that way were released in my lifetime. That being said I think myself lucky to have this to go back to. The film is a cathartic ritual of living, laughing in the moment and weeping and crying afterwards.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Figuring out how to weave everything into this, have it be coherent, and flow well was difficult.

I also was reluctant to edit for a bit due to how painful it is to look at the core memories that cause fracturing. I can't say whether I was experimented on like Lena (though the conversion therapy I endured could be deemed an experiment I suppose. I recall little of it thanks to my alters), but other fucked up things in my childlhood appear as allegories in this tale.

But at the same time, writing this story has been very cathartic.

EXCERPT (from a random point in this chapter):

“Kara?” Lena’s voice breaks through the memory. “You’ve been standing there awhile. You okay?”

Linda has never fronted for Kara, and it feels strange to have a body again. Energy ripples through her limbs, and an odd smell lingers in her nostrils. Fog simmers like stew in her mind, unlike the more usual open nature of Kara's psyche. It disorients her.

She looks down at the book in her hand, and its title — Mythologies of the World. A title her Alex would never have let her read. He considered such things a folly, softening and ruining the mind. She flips through its pages, and many drawings decorate the chapters, each one a unique style. Art confuses her, and she’s not sure of what the imagery means. Alex taught her that everything holds meaning if one looks deep enough.

She tucks the book back and turns to Lena, who watches her carefully, her posture oddly tense.

“Lena.” She tilts her head to examine the other woman. Why is she tense? Linda struggles to recall what Kara-Z and D has said to Lena, but she’d been trying to meditate. To not leak, and yet she has leaked. Leaked enough to take control. It is disorienting. “I saw you many months ago. You were very sad.” Her accent pulses through her words, despite trying to sound more like the two Karas. English words do not sit well on her tongue, and she is not used to this body. It feels heavier than she recalled her own feeling.

Lena’s eyes widen. “Wait, what? Who are you then?”

Linda holds up her hands. “Please, I mean no harm. I visit you on a day when Kara was out of town. I was in disguise. I did not want to upset you, so I played her role. I only wished to ease your sadness.”

She narrows her eyes. “Are you talking about that surprise visit when you were supposed to be in Africa?”

“I do not know where Kara was supposed to be.” Linda drops her hands to her side. “My Alex took me to America, so I could understand their corruption.”

“Your Alex?” Lena repeats. “As in Alex Danvers…?”

Linda shakes her head. “No. That is not my Alex.” She’s not sure where Kara-Z or Kara-D are in their mind. Her memories sizzle with violet lightning, and her emotions a simmering cauldron of confusion. Z and D feel far away, like they've been cast into a dimensional fog; it is unlike all other times since her fusion. She does not know what this means. “No, my Alex is — was your brother.”

Lena breathes in sharply. Her shoulders tremble, and a hint of caution and fear trickle into her tone, despite the neutral expression on her face. “What — what do you mean?”

Linda stays by the bookcase, even though she wants to comfort her somehow. “I am sorry. Kara-Z often says I must be less abrupt.” She rubs her eyebrow as a headache pulses in tune with her confusion. “I call myself Linda. I am Red Daughter. I was Kaznia’s hope. Alex trained me.” She slides her finger down the spine of the mythology book. “He would not approve of this book.” She taps it. “But I want to read it. May I read it?”

“Of course.” Lena carefully tucks a bookmark into her book and stands. She lays it on the table and walks to Linda’s side. “You’re welcome to read whatever you desire, Linda.” A sad smile graces her lips. “And I understand what it’s like to be trained by Lex. He’s…” Lena struggles for a long moment as if fighting herself. “… he’s always been dangerous. I’m sorry you dealt with him.”

Linda picks the book off the shelf and holds it against her chest. “He called you a traitor.”

Lena lets out what sounds like a mixture between sob and laugh. “I fraternized with Kara Danvers, which apparently Lex knew was Supergirl.”

[power-chords]

apologies if you've explained this already, but tumblr search is trash, so I have to ask... why the obsession with michael mann, how did that start?

Oh, man. It’s a long story! In the early days of the pandemic I got a call from my favorite rock musician that he had read a short essay I’d written on his solo album, and he wanted me to contribute a piece to his band’s forthcoming box set. Dream come true obviously, couldn’t say no, so I immediately buckled down on the research end, which for me involved a deeper dive into said musician’s love of film. Mann was on the list of suspects alongside more definitive entries like Coppola and Scorsese, but that turned out to be a happy accident of misreading. (Major shout out to Adam here, by the way, because without his guidance I would have been working with a much more meandering home-brewed syllabus.)

I enjoy movies like any properly adjusted American but they don’t tend to put a spell on me the way music does, or make me want to disassemble the whole contraption piece by piece like a good written story. And Mann’s work was the first time I’d ever encountered films that could have the same effect on me as music and literature. They were hypnotic and enchanting and propulsive, like my favorite records, but they also suggested this dense subterranean architecture of potential meaning, obscured from immediate view but very much there and carefully, deliberately encoded. In other words, these films were like texts imploring (really, daring) you to interpret them.

That’s Mann’s methodology in a nutshell, basically — it’s a seduction gambit, and on me it worked spectacularly! It tapped into my grotesque hedonic animal brain and sparked an intellectual curiosity as well. For me that combination has a narcotic quality that’s hard to explain, but I have an addictive personality. And the more I watched his work, the more it ensnared me like The Footage.* (“WHAT is going on? What is this film doing to me??” Etc.) You have to understand I have no prior experiential basis for this, so as far as I’m concerned it’s witchcraft. By the time I turn in my piece for the box set I have this collateral situation developing, ha ha, oh no, and here I am three years later.

Initially I had wondered if Mann had been an influence on Dulli, but it turned out to be a case of convergent evolution. Or something akin to it. I think they’re just similar in terms of what subject matter they’re attracted to, maybe in their modes of perception and how they make aesthetic/narrative sense of the world. And there is some part of me that keys into that sensibility — whichever part precedes organized expression, maybe even conscious comprehension — and finds it cathartic and liberating and all that good stuff. (I’m a Safety First adrenaline junkie these days so I try to limit my habits to art and pop culture.)

And then he and Meg Gardiner co-wrote an actual book which provoked further investigations, escalations, whatever you want to call them. It turns out that the abyss really DOES stare back into you in the form of numerous spooky historical coincidences. I’m like afraid of Heat 2 at this point because the more I go trawling around in there the more it becomes an eldritch object, LOL. I’m the closest anyone has come to living the film Jumanji, let me put it that way. But the experience has been a blast. And I feel fortunate to have found yet another creator on par with Dulli and Townshend whose work I will be able to take with me and return to over the course of my life, and seek shelter in in that way.

*EVERYBODY READ PATTERN RECOGNITION BY WILLIAM GIBSON!

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I'll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

{ CHAPTER SEVEN }

➳ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Summary: Steven gets Emma to take her meds -- but it backfires and they only make her more sick. After heading to her room, Marc takes over. Pairing: { eventual } Original Character { Emma Harper } x Steven Grant, Emma Harper x Marc Spector, && Emma Harper x Jake Lockley Contents: mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, angst { I guess? I don’t know what else to call it. }, hurt/comfort-esque vibes Warnings: severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I’ve done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. mental hospitals. typical misunderstanding and misinterpretation that comes with psychosis. due to the nature of Emma’s psychosis, things are very unhealthily skewed in a religious context. triggering themes related to the aforementioned Author’s Note: I recently finished reading Tear Down My Reason by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and it inspired me to work on an idea I’ve been playing with about Emma and the Boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really AREN’T works out there like this, especially not actually written by people with firsthand experience of things like psychosis. This series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your stories DO deserve to be told. Word Count: 1,155 Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sub-aro

The following day – Steven remains in control of the body.

After breakfast, they line them all up for morning meds which only leads to the next problem – Emma refusing to take the meds the doctor has prescribed.

As she stands three people from the front of the line she tells Steven she’s not going to take the “poison.”

“You’ve got t’ take them, love – or they’ll make you stay longer…”

“But they’re making me sick—my body is upset…” she tells him.

“If you refuse that bloody doctor is going to raise—”

‘Don’t Steven—she’ll take it literally, she already thinks he’s the devil…’ Marc stops him just in time.

“Right—” Steven mutters out the side of his mouth.

“We can’t getchu better unless we find the right meds—and we’ve gotta rule these out first, yeah?”

Emma huffs a sigh and nods, “okay…”

“Good girl.” Steven repeats, scooting her up just as it’s her turn.

She takes a long look at the cup they hand her. “This tastes like battery acid…” she informs the nurse before swallowing the liquid medicine.

Then she’s handed another cup with a few more pills.

She quickly swallows them too before tossing the empty cup in the trash.

Not long after she finds herself in the bathroom feeling like she’s gonna be sick but can’t.

She groans and throws her head back against the hard wall, her face contorting with pain as she hugs herself.

She sniffs back tears, not wanting any of them to see her this way.

The floor staff on duty is a sweet man named Moses who knocks on the wall outside of the bathroom. “Okay in there Emma?”

She pushes out a sob and sucks in a shaky breath.

“I feel sick…” she says weakly.

“Maybe a shower?”

The thought of hot water does sound soothing so she slowly climbs to her feet. “O-okay…” she says shakily.

He walks her down to the counter for her toiletries, passing the day room on the way.

In the meantime since going to her room, Marc has taken over again. He sees her pass with one of the staff and worries.

He notes that even the short time she’s been gone, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her, wondering if maybe she shouldn’t be taking the particular meds they have her on.

He's all but certain that whatever diagnosis the doctor has given is likely wrong as well.

When he eyes the toiletries being handed over he sighs, muttering to Jake himself this time as he makes his way to the hallway. “we’ll be lucky if this place doesn’t kill her…”

‘I know,’ Jake agrees, as she makes it back to her room.

“I’m going to stand watch…” He mumbles as he heads toward her room, stopping outside and leaning against the wall.

He's about to speak again when he hears her voice. Except she isn’t talking to the people in her head this time. She’s singing to herself.

When the water comes on he slides down the wall  sitting just outside the door, just listening.

He can all but feel Jake softening, or was it himself? He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t having that effect on him.

She sings a quiet song that sounds like a lullaby of a love song.

“If you’ll be my star, I’ll be your sky…you can hide underneath me and come out at night…” the song goes.

“When I turn jet black and you show off your light…I live to let you shine…I live to let you shine…”

It sounds so peaceful. And Marc’s eyes slip shut as he listens. The song takes a sad turn. Bittersweet at best.

“But you can skyrocket away, from me, and never come back if you—find another galaxy…far from here, with more room to fly—just leave me your stardust to remember you by…”

His hear aches in his chest at the idea of leaving her behind. He doesn’t want this to be all he’ll ever know of her, and he just knows Steven and Jake feel the same way.

There’s another verse about being the sea to someone’s boat, setting sail for the west, past the horizon til he can’t be seen anymore, about living to make him free…

Marc frowns as he realizes he’s somehow made the sad lullaby about himself, about them.

After the second verse, the first repeats itself.

He can’t see her but he imagines how the warm water must being calming. The same way listening to her sing is soothing him—and Jake, of course.

He thinks on how Steven is really missing out, how they’ll have to tell him about it later.

She spends another 5 minutes in the shower before she shuts the water off, all the while humming the melody.

It takes her another ten minutes to get dressed, a fresh hospital gown—well two that is—wrapped around her.

Now that Marc knows vaguely about her mother, he’s not surprised that she doesn’t have clothes or proper toiletries.

He sighs as she emerges from her bathroom, making to stand just before she peeks out of her doorway.

She seems to know he’s there waiting and doesn’t so much as jump.

“Hey…” he says warmly, giving her an equally soft look. “how are you feeling?”

Emma doesn’t seem bothered in the least that it’s no longer Steven who’s controlling the body.

“Hi Marc…I— my body is still upset…” she tells him quietly, tucking her hair behind her ears.

He gives her a soft, playful frown. “you knew it was me?”

Her head bobbing quickly, frowning back—albeit seriously. “I just know things sometimes…”

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have this feeling deep within himself that she just knows them apart well enough to know.

“Right—Jake told me…”

“Are they gonna make us eat again soon?” She asks, glancing down and wringing her hands.

“Think so—why?”

“I don’t think I can eat right now…”

Marc nods, knowing it’s the meds.

“Maybe we can just get you some juice.” He suggests.

He wants to reach for her again, finding the instinct to comfort her so innate.

Her eyes rise shyly to meet his, rolling her lips in, her dimples on prominent display.

“Y’know—” he stops himself, Steven was right before—this was hardly the place.

He clears his throat, changing his words. “you’re gonna be okay…” he finishes.

But somehow Emma just knows, hiding an equally shy smile. “I like your dimples too…” she tells him softly before moving past him as a look of shock comes over his face.

She can feel the tingles rush over her skin as he stares after her, stuck where he stands just outside her door.

‘Well damn…’ Jake says from the headspace.

But Marc just stands there speechless, watching her move down the hallway, lost in a trance.

[liesmyth]

Do you have any tips/resources on writing smut? I've never really written it, but I need to include a little in a fic I'm writing rn and yours is very good.

Anon! Thank you so much, this is Extremely flattering ❤️ Honestly, my #1 rule to Writing Smut is that actually anything can be hot if a scene is written to be arousing. It's all about the setup.

Some things that work for me:

EMOTIONS. ime, smut scenes should cause some level of emotional response in the reader. It can be the POV character experiencing strong feelings and that coming through in the narration; it can be a taboo or hard kink that’s enough to guarantee some kind of reaction; it can be an emotionally cathartic scene or character study through sex. It doesn’t have to be a lot! But there has to be Something that makes the reader invested, a takeaway that you couldn’t get from a purely objective description or looking at a picture.

FLOW. You’re either trying to make the reader horny and/or you’re trying to make them interested in what the characters are doing and feeling. Lean into that when crafting a scene! I find that varying the length of sentences in a paragraph helps (building up to a crescendo) and so does the deliberate use of terminology to set up a specific mood (more descriptive euphemisms vs. crude slang as the POV gets more overwhelmed, alternating lush prose and crass descriptors to create some contrast.)

CHARACTER-APPROPIATE VERBIAGE. This is a big one! There are NO forbidden smut words, actually. I have read super hot smut that hinged on the repeated use of some deeply unsexy terms. It’s ALL about the narrative voice. Try to construct a scene that’s immersive, with a narrative voice that suits the characters and the story, and the type of vocabulary that suits the POV and setting. Ime, anything and everything can be sexy if the mood is right. Yes, even the word “penis.” YES even funky euphemisms.

PURPOSE AND PACING. Why is the scene there? Try to strike a good balance between descriptions, feelings, and words. If the characters stop mid-sex to talk, it’d be harder to get back into a sexy mood (why I’ve been stuck on this one WIP for months. RIP) On the other hand, sometimes it’s fine to skip moments / descriptions, or even end the scene mid-sex.

(This is especially important in chaptered fics, in my experience. Sometimes there’s a long elaborate build-up to a get together and then all the emotions fizzle out during The Sex Chapter, or a plot-heavy story, and then the story slows down to fit in 3 orgasms per character. It’s fine, often better, to just stick to one orgasm, make it extra hot, and skim over the others)

WRITE DRUNK EDIT SOBER or any variant thereof. Write in comic sans and edit in times new roman. Write horny edits in public. It’s really easy to overthink smut and in my opinion, it Really helps to fully commit to a shitty first draft—no quibbling over word choices or positions; just don’t look at the screen and bang out 500 words. (Ah-ah, bang.) Write on your phone if you want! Put it away for a while then edit.

SMUT IS NOT SEX ED. Realism matters less than feelings do. I don't need to know every detail unless it's relevant to the development of the scene. Unless it’s something glaring like someone is suddenly naked or used soap as lube, no one is going to nitpick how realistic it is to hold X position for Y minutes or how many spankings a human being can endure. The scene works narratively >>> the scene can be recreated by random non-athletes having sex. It’s fic! If someone is taking it as a Guide To Sex that’s not on you.

Other resources: This is a good essay directly from 2005 era livejournal. Some posts about vocabulary: on kissing, smut thesaurus, more words! (use with caution, don't take anything as a hard rule etc.)

Also I just think I'm funny:

GOOD LUCK WRITING IT LMK HOW IT GOES

[zinphandel]

A Moon Shaped Pool- Radiohead

hey guys welcome to another episode of kate rates dans favourite albums of the year! today we are listening to A Moon Shaped Pool by Radiohead!

Initial Thoughts?

GOD i’m so excited to get into this one. I'm a big fat radiohead stan (but like just the music i don’t really care about the band if u know what i mean) personally, I'm a kid a and in rainbows girly, but amsp still bangs

Is this a first time full album listen through?

no! however im not gonnna lie its been a while since I last did a proper a moon shaped pool listen through. I know I'm gonna enjoy this one!

Listen through:

• lets gooooo! thom yorke is a weirdo but his voice is so hauntingly perfect, it transports you as soon as his vocals start. I love the use of the strings in the opening track, it builds in such a satisfying way and sets up the rest of the album really well. This feels very much like the 'classic radiohead' sound that we know so well taken up a gear.

• the soundscape that opens up 'daydreaming' lives up to the name of the song as it is soooo dreamy, and it builds slowly and gorgeously throughout. The lyrics are melancholy but to me feel secondary to the ethereal instrumental, they let the soundscape shine!

• This is 100% a night-time album. This was meant to be listened to in the dark, in the limbo between being awake and asleep. The perfect album to fall asleep to.

• The production on this album is SO beautiful. truly next level

• I want to listen to this album alone on a deep space mission, looking out into the dark empty endless void of space, seeing nothing but tiny pinpricks of starlight in the distance

• This album feels like the calm after the storm. the big horrible sad thing has happened, and you are now looking back on it, embracing the sadness and accepting your fate, it's depressing but beautiful. Its truly a cathartic listening experience.

• It feel like the mature, calmer yet sadder older brother of kid a

• you NEED to listen to this album with headphones to hear all the subtle details. its so gorgeous

• 'Ful Stop' is explosive and expressive, definitely one of my favourites -its both exciting and emotional

• The haunting piano and strings that open glass eyes pull you straight in and back down to earth after the more uptempo Ful Stop, its emotional whiplash in the best way possible!

• This album feels like a fully realised journey with peaks and valleys, it always keeps you guessing and every new song is exciting. Its so clearly the work of people who have been in the industry 20+ years and are putting all those years of experience to work in both the production and the lyricism.

• hoooooly shit the strings on 'The Numbers' are otherworldly

• god im enjoying this album so much i can't wait to listen to it on a cold dark lonely night

• true love waits is the perfect album closer. A song that's been worked on for 20+ years (it was first performed in 1995!) this particular arrangement is beautiful, with the minimal piano. If radiohead never releases another album, this is the most gorgeous goodbye imaginable. its mournful, melancholy and beyond beautiful.

Favourite song(s)?

Ful stop, Glass eyes, Identikit

Least favourite song?

Present tense

Would i listen again?

God i cant wait to add this back into my album rotation and listen again, I have no idea why its been so long since I've listened to this! Its still not my favourite radiohead project, but it is their most, mature, fully realised version of them. Hauntingly beautiful

Do i recommend?

Absolutely! I'm not sure i would recommend it as your first introduction to radiohead (do kid a, ok computer and in rainbows first) but i’d defo recommend you listen to it. perfect late night listening!

What would I rank it out of 10?

9/10

GOD i love radiohead. dans music taste is truly elite! cheers danny boy! see you all tomorrow for a super exciting (controversial) one!

thanks 4 reading xxx

read my 2015 reviews here

read the rest of the my 2016 reviews here

listen to the playlist of highlights from dans favourite albums here