#anyway that's probably enough filler tags

[pocketramblr]

This is said with an academic lack of judgment but I think pavb¡e shippers and m¡gb shippers are divergent evolution of the same ancestor: no¡rham shippers

[ellaa-writes]

Good Dog

author note: Part 3 yay!! Series list found here. I actually edited this one, I know! Probably still mistakes lol, I love writing this type of Simon but mean Simon is still my favourite. Reader and Simon parts are going on at different times, weeks apart, just in case of any confusion of time line. Enjoy!

summary: His favourite words include; down boy, good dog, heel, fetch and his most favourite, get 'em. Well trained, and listens good. Loyal through and through. Always striving to be the absolute best. Ready to attack at all times, always on guard. Loves discipline, either giving or receiving. Working for a criminal mastermind, lurking in the shadows. You both trying not to be seen or noticed but after one unlucky night, all you both can see are the ghosts. He invades your life, if you both like it or not.

tags: Alternative Universe. Female reader. A/B/O dynamics. Alpha Simon, Beta Reader, Bad Scottish lingo (I tried). Very tame and a chapter filler.

You hadn't seen Simon in a few weeks, must have gotten bored you thought, eventually everyone leaves so why wouldn't he. Things felt different with him, like timed slowed down and life finally had a meaning.

You stopped in front of a news stand, big bold letters. OMEGA POPLUATION HITS AN ALL TIME LOW; leading scientists may have found a solution. You snatched the paper and handed the worker $5 telling him to keep the rest as you rushed back home paper in hand. The title wasn't what caught your attention, it was a few paragraphs down the words doctor and experimental procedure. Tossing your belongings on the dining table soon as you entered your grungy apartment.

Reading the article fully, then once more. Doctors have developed a experimental drug that could alter a Beta women's chemistry. Tricking the body into thinking its an Omega, a few experiments have been conducted and results have so far been proven successful. But they are searching for more Beta women to submit themselves into the program.

Those words playing over and over in your head, becoming an Omega, and having a loyal and supportive Alpha. Not having to worry about all the small things, not having to work and struggle to make ends meet. You could leave your pathetic life behind.

All Simon did was follow orders, being the good dog, he is. A successful mission out of the way, the Boss left before he did. Having to hurry back cause of his Omega. Simon used to have dreams about settling down, but that was before he became ghost. Stupid child aspirations, but mostly because he felt like he didn't deserve one. And who would want him as an Alpha, all teeth, and hard edges. It would be a punishment to be stuck with him until death, and death would be the reward.

You jotted the number down on a piece of paper and stuck it to your fridge. You didn't have to decide now, but you were tempted to.

Dealing with Makarov was easier than expected most of these men act tough on the outside but soon as you start pulling out their insides, they change their tune. He wasn't in too much of a hurry to get home, it's been two weeks since he last saw her, he's been keeping his distance, not wanting to poison her cause that's what he was poison.

It was very late into the night when he finally arrived in the city, driving down the desolate neighborhoods till he found himself parked in front of his apartment. Not the one across from hers but the one he bought himself soon as he had enough money too. The only thing that remained from his previous life. Cutting the engine and walking inside.

He still had a landline, hard wired into the wall next to the thermostat. He's never used it and has never had anyone call it. Not like many people have the number anyways, emergency he told himself when he bought and installed it all those years ago. Having the number updated in his file, but now it hangs there mockingly. Much to his surprise when he walked into his quiet home, a little red dot glowing from the device.

He ignored it at first, taking his clothes off to take a quick shower. To wash away the memories that still plague him, the water never being hot enough. He stood there in nothing but a towel around his waist. Staring at that glowing red light, missed call.

He should just delete it, but he decided to play the message. A voice came through the small speaker, one that he thought he'd never hear again. John Price.

"Oi Simon, it's John. Ain't sure if this dog and bone's still on the go. Tried your mobile, but it's saying it's disconnected. Anyways, thought I'd drop you a bell 'cause we're gonna be in the city for a bit. Fancy a chinwag, like the old days, yeah? So, give me a call, same digits as ever. It'd be proper nice to catch up, Simon."

It was silent for a while afterwards, only Simon's heaving breathing filling up the space. Not once did they call him while he was locked up doing time, not once did they reach out and say they cared. They were family once, at least he thought they were. Stupid.

All the rage simmering up inside of him finally boiled over the edge. Simon grabbed the stupid phone and slammed it into the wall as hard as he could, again and again until there was nothing left but broken pieces of plastic, wiring and now a hole in his wall.

It only took you three hours of pacing back and forth in your tiny apartment, the small piece of paper stuck to your fridge door taunting you. As the line rang you debated on hang up, forgetting any of this happened but it was to late. The reception answered your call, redirecting you to the head of the project. Giving a little info over the phone they scheduled you in for the same day if you could make it. It was on the other side of town, the side you hardly went to cause there was no need. Unless you wanted to make yourself feel even more shitty about your life.

He debated if he should call, be the bigger person the little voice in his head called out. They had their reasoning for abandoning him, for treating him like the plague, they had to, right?

You were on the bus, watching as the fading sun descended and the moon turned brighter. The glow of city coming to life, some many people out and about. You barely had enough money to and back, getting off at the stop further away. Walking the rest to save a bit of cash and take in the scenery. The air was crisp, it never got too cold during the winter season. Also, long as the wind stayed away it was a mild year so far.

To say this was awkward was an understatement. Simon sat across from the beta Scottsman, not much has changed he thought. The group of men still joking around like nothing happened like good ol' times, they kept trying to get him in on it. Simon soon realised that this was a mistake, all of it. Calling Price and picking out this bar. They weren't his pack anymore, they ditched him soon as things went south.

Simon's grip on his glass of bourbon tightened when Johnny yelled "Right Lt." the group getting quiet afterwards, Johnny knew he fucked up. Simon got up abruptly, taking a big gulp of the burning liquid amber, polishing off his drink before slamming it back down.

"Goin’ for a smoke." as he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. Marching towards the front door. He could hear Kyle's faint call of his name, the beta man always playing mediator, Price holding Johnny back like an Alpha would a misbehaving puppy as Simon made his way outside.

"Bunch of fuckin' pricks." it was a whisper to himself, digging out his pack of smokes and shoving one into his mouth. Lighting it with ease as he sucked in a big lung full. The door to the bar opened and closed, fully expecting to smell the cigar-soaked Alpha but instead it was Johnny tail between his legs.

"I ken ye dinnae wanna gab about it." he tried but Simon cut him right off. "I don't." blowing a huge cloud in the betas face. "Weel, someone's gotta." he just wanted some fucking peace and quiet. "The start talkin’ or shut the fuck up." dropping his finished cigarette to the ground, giving it a good stomp before putting another to his lips.

"Things have changed, ye've changed. Ah ken everything's aw fucked up right now. We tried-" Simon huffed out a stiff laugh, not believing a thing the Scott was saying. He could see his lips still moving but he couldn’t hear what he was saying as a familiar scent caught his nose.

Before Simon could think a small body collided with Soaps as he stepped out towards the curb with a hand to the back of his neck. "Ah, fuck, sorry ‘bout that, lass." Simon watched in slow motion as you got knocked off balance. Johnny reaching out to help the poor thing but before, he could feel the growl coming from his chest and throat. Pushing the Beta to the side as he took a hold of you, bring you to his chest.

He could hear your lower whimper, there was something different about you. Your scent was sweeter, it was pulling him in like a bee to a flower. "Simon?" letting out in a shaky breath. "What are you doing here?" you looked up into his eyes. Your hands resting against his chest, the hard muscle underneath flexing, a low rumble coming from within. You’ve never seen him like this, so casual but also feral, eyes blown and panting.

"Am I interrupting ye in the midst of somethin'?" Johnny didn't know what the hell was going on. Looking at the Omega flushed against the old Alpha, he was just happy that after everything that happened it was nice to see his old lieutenant finally settling down with such a sweet thing. Simon finally broke his gaze from you, settling it on the Beta. “It was a nice chat, gotta go.”

"Come, I'll drive you home." he stated, gripping your upper arm as he moved you towards his car. The more you stood outside surround by people the more Simon got irritated. He couldn't put his finger on it, the changes within you. He'd been away from a couple of weeks; it was hard staying away but he had a responsibility and a job to do. "I can take the bus." you tried moving around Simon, spotting the other man who was now gawking. "Like hell." Simon held onto you firm, walking you to his car.

"See you around." the Scott yelled from somewhere behind. He couldn't wait to tell the other two men of what he witnessed. The grumpy old Alpha had found himself a sweet Omega.

The drive home was in silence, not even the radio to help ease the awkward tension building up in the car. When Simon pulled onto your street you gathered your belongings. "Wait." you snapped your head to the driver's side.

"What were you doing out so late?" he was trying to interrogate you "I had an appointment." you held your hands in your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "Hmm" Simon grunted out, the whole way back to your apartment he had to stop himself from pulling the car over and pouncing on you.

Something wasn't right and he didn't like it or maybe he did. It confused him nonetheless and he wanted answers.

"You want to come up?" you don't know why you asked, why those words spilled out of your mouth. Simon was surprised too, cocking his head to side. "Sure." he cut the engine.

Once inside your apartment you didn't bother asking him if he wanted anything to drink. Unless he's into expired milk or tap water. The hulking man walked around your small place, picking things up and putting them down. Take in his surroundings, he already didn’t like you living in this area. He’s scoped out your apartment, the front door was a piece of shit, with a little bit of a jiggle and it popped open.

Walking towards your dingy couch he noticed the paper on the table, picking it up he scanned the words. You didn't.... His eyes found your form, busying yourself around your small kitchen. Shoving dirty dished into the sink to be forgotten about till later. Simon sniffed the air again, there was that familiar scent again. The smell of an Omega, the similar one that clung to his Boss, that filled every space of his home.

Omega.

He felt is heart quicken, his blood run thin. He's only had this feeling a few times, he was going to throw up and pass out at the same time. You noticed his completion pale, worrying you, grabbing a glass and filling it with your last bottle of water. Rushing to his side and calling his name.

Simon was so far away; he was in the middle of the raging ocean. The waves crashing over him, pulling him deeper under every unforgiving wave. Lungs full of burning salt water, gasping with arms stretched to the sky.

You could do the only thing you could think of you climbed into his lap. Curling yourself around him, rubbing your scent glad over his nose and mouth.

[adamnablelittledevil]

The overall colorblidness, microagressive, tone deaf, racially insensitive or however you want to call it behavior of this fandom was already awful enough, but PEOPLE GOING TO A FUCKING PLANTATION, taking pictures with toys (a funko pop of white slave owner Louis btw) as if they're at Disney World and posting it so casually (further info here, here and here)? I don't even think you can go lower than that. That's one of the biggest offenses I've seen on fandom ANYWHERE, of any show/movie/book. I'm appalled.

And I'm glad this escalated enough to the point even British media outlets are writing about this, because WE SHOULD ACKNOWLEDGE IT and people should deal with the consequences of their actions, though I feel for Jacob, Delainey, black fans in general and SPECIALLY NOLA natives will probably see or have already seen this shit. Specially the latter that have to deal with it on a daily basis, because even to this day the generational traumas of their ancestors and themselves are still exploited. The fact they may have WITNESSED IT IN PERSON themselves is disgusting and infuriating.

You wanna learn about racism and slavery in the U.S.? Turn to books and documentaries, if you can't afford them or find any in our country, if you can't ship international products to where you live because access to these things can be complicated sometimes, then read a blog or watch YouTube videos for free (just please check their credentials to know they're reliable and a professional, like an actual historian and check ACTUAL black sources and not white people who may undermine such topics).

You genuinely wanna honor and pay your respects to those people? Then, go to the places YOU'RE ACTUALLY ALLOWED to go, don't focus on taking pictures for social media, just sit down, reflect on where you're standing, pray for those souls, find a local charity that you can donate money to and/or work as a volunteer for a little bit IF YOU REALLY WANT TO HELP, because local communities don't need spoiled individuals who will just be lazy and fillers or cause mess and give them more work to do.

ALSO, shame on people who did see this and said nothing, specially if they spend countless time shitposting, sharing memes or talking about white characters and ships. This happened in late OCTOBER and it's been almost a whole MONTH. And somehow this is only being spread NOW because a British newspaper made an article about it. It should never have happened in the first place, but we should've acknowledged it by ourselves and not just because it went public? If you search the tag, you will LITERALLY ONLY FIND F O U R POSTS ABOUT IT, tops. AND IT'S BEEN ALMOST A FUCKING MONTH. Does this fandom need the Daily Mail or whatever source that was to act with some decency? Are you doing it to look good or out of genuine indignation, respect and empathy for black people, specially NOLA fans? I know some people genuinely didn't know because they avoid certain blogs, tags, block, blacklist and try to curate their dashboards in the best possible way to avoid the mess, follow thousands of blogs and/or a new to the fandom, which is completely understandable, but this WOULD HAVE totally blown up way SOONER if as a collective this fandom cared more. We're talking about some pretty popular accounts, some with 16,000+ followers FOR FUCK'S SAKE. I REFUSE to believe this wouldn't have gone viral sooner if thr fanbase actually wanted to combat racism in the IWTV/TVCverse. Anyway, MAY THIS FINALLY BE THE WAKE UP CALL THIS FANDOM DESPERATELY NEEDS, shamefully way too late, yes, but at least better late than never.

P.S. Sorry if this isn't articulate enough, has mistakes, typos etc, I'm on my phone, English is not my first language and I'm way too pissed to think straight.

[supernatural-dreamer]

The Unnatural and Unexpected (Embry Call x Black! Reader) Pt. 5

A/N: Heyo! Annd we're back with another installment! This chapter shifts back to the Cullen's perspective and is a bit of a filler. AS a makeup from being away for so long.. I'm planning a dual update this weekend. A big thank you to everyone following with this story

As always, let me know your thoughts!

Cheers!

-Lauren

—

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Masterlist

—

Imagine being Embry’s imprint and tagging along with the wolves to their newborn training session. However, you’re always in for an unexpected surprise when you’re around Bella..

Under normal circumstances, Jasper is a very patient young man. Combat taught him the importance of it, as having none could have meant certain death. He uses it daily in order to control his bloodlust around humans. Although it has gotten easier over the years, it is still a  daily struggle for him. He also has to have some when using his empath abilities, otherwise he can wear himself out.

All of that self-control went out the window, the second he realized what he had done. It took every ounce of his patience for him NOT to go after you, to at the very least, to apologize to you. He already felt guilty, ashamed for putting you into this mess in the first place. Now, he had physically hurt you–badly. 

The minute the wolves disappeared into the trees, he felt himself get tossed onto the ground once more, albeit gentler this time. 

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND? You are LUCKY that the dog got to you first because how dare you?” The ice blonde hair easily identified his second attacker as he rose to his feet once again.

Now standing upright, Jasper now notices his entire family is now present and looking at him. The wooden back porch was destroyed– a small broken piece of wood that was hanging on for dear life came crashing to the ground.

It was then he realized he was in some deep shit. 

The silence was broken only when Carlisle spoke in a stern, yet ambivalent tone, “Family meeting. Living room. Now.”

—

“Jasper, dear,” Esme begins after everyone is seated in the living room, taking her place next to her husband. “Care to explain why we had to break up a fight between you and a wolf or why my brand new porch is destroyed?”  She raises an eyebrow.

Sighing, he starts. “I ended up telling (YN) the truth. Embry came back and overheard our conversation. He phased and charged at me while (YN) was standing in front of me.” The ladies perked up at this. “I knocked her out of the way, probably into the porch railing accidentally,  before Embry and I fought-”  

“And so the porch was no more.” Emmett interjected, slightly amused. He groans as Rosalie elbows him in his side.  

After glaring  at his brother, Jasper continues. “Yes, then by the time you pulled us apart she was gone. Rosalie let her leave.” Confused, everyone turns to her.

“Wait a second,” Rosalie defends. “I also wanted her to stay to  let Carlisle have a look at her. But I couldn’t convince her. She was petrified, I had to let her go.  I had Emmett tail her home just to make sure she made it alright.” Her husband nodded in confirmation.

“If we made her stay, she still would’ve ran anyway, trust me.” Feeling slight daggers coming from her blonde “twin” brother, she turns to him. 

 “Regardless of how much you want to nitpick at my actions, it still wasn’t me that threw her off the porch.” Ouch. 

Sensing the rising tension in the room, Carlisle interjects. “Rosalie. That’s enough. But you also have a point.” He sighs, running a hand down his face. 

“How bad was she injured ?” Edward chimes in, crossing his arms leaning against the wall.

“She wasn’t looking too good. Adrenaline is a hell of a thing.” Looking at the inner turmoil on her brother’s face, Rosalie's tone softens.  

“The mutts aren’t going to be too happy about this.”

“Can you blame them? Eddie over here has Jake to deal with. Now, at least from their perspective, Jas is trying to steal Embry’s girl. You’re violating bro code in every way possible.” Emmett shakes his head.

“Regardless, I still have to talk to her and figure out what’s going on.  At least to apologize. I can’t just sit back here and do nothing. Or pretend like nothing happened.” Alice put a hand on her mate's shoulder.

“And that, you are right. But you have to give her some time, let her come to you and not a moment sooner. Your individual choices are now impacting all of us. Peace between us and the wolves is critical, especially with the newborns and Victoria on the horizon. We’re not doing ourselves any favors at this point. “ Esme glances at her husband,  nodding in agreement with her..

“What happened in the woods? Did you find anything?” Jasper inquires, completely forgetting the whole newborn issue for a moment.

“A couple of stray newborns. Found the one that broke into (Y/N)’s house. We’re in the clear.  At least for now.” Carlisle turns to Jasper.

“I understand your personal feelings, however, you need to tread lightly with this. It is clear that we’re going to have to deal with these newborns sooner rather than later. Messing with soul bonds is literally playing with fire. After all, that's also the reason Victoria is even an issue in the first place.”

 He turns to look at his youngest son. “The same goes for you too, Edward.”

“And to that, here’s what is going to happen. Jasper, you will leave (YN) alone until she reaches out to you and not a moment sooner. The rest of us will continue to be on silent rotation at Bella’s and (YN)’s houses, until she decides to continue coming around.

Jasper opens his mouth to speak but is easily silenced with a look from Rosalie.

“In the meantime, you will be rebuilding my porch. I just got it done.” Emmett sighs 

“I’ll get the wood.”

And so he did. Although the temptation was killing him, he had to admit having the distraction of putting the porch together did occupy him for a couple of days.

Well that, along with the watchful eye of Emmett and glares of Rosalie. Carlisle stopped by just to check in on you, as he knew good and well you weren't going to a hospital. Even Edward intruded on his thoughts from time to time, to keep him in line.

  One thing Jasper had to admit was that he was impressed that everyone else was, to varying degrees, protective of you, even from himself. Bella was not even accepted this fast by everyone. Rosalie STILL hadn’t fully come around with her yet.  At least if you ever decided to join the family, you would fit in just fine.

But that was wishful thinking on his part. At least for now.

The other thing that had him on edge was, eventually, he needed to talk to Alice. She had left a couple of days ago and she didn’t tell him where. But knowing his partner, he knew that a conversation would need to be had as soon as she returned—

Whether he wanted to or not.

tags: @fckwritersblock , @zoexme , @abluejay-comments , @solar2solstice ,

[theboywithburninghands]

So, this is probably gonna be the last fluff/filler chapter before the final arc is set in motion. So I figured why not scratch the ol’ hurt/comfort itch before things get super serious? @fernstarsblog your tag as always, but I figured I would also tag @dragonwritersblog as well since you’re a connoisseur of hurt/comfort. If you’d rather I untag you, I’d be happy to. Okay, uh, enjoy!

T/W: Era appropriate sexism, withdrawals and drug cravings, implied vomit, past parental abuse

Primum Peccatum Ch. 14: Last Dance with Mary Jane

“Time is a strange thing. It hurtles by us faster than we can see, yet never leaves a single grain of sand within the hourglass unaccounted for. It grinds our souls to dust from excess, yet we crave it oh-so greatly, as there is never enough.” - Connie McGregor, The Iron Rings, pg. 174.

Pomni Shutnyk asserted that this quote best described the following week and a half of her life. The hours slowed to a crawl, and yet the days trundled along at a steady pace. Most of this temporal disconnect could be attributed to what Pomni tasked herself with doing over the days before her wedding. She decided to help Jax through his withdrawals.

Truthfully, she didn’t need to. Altonicus left careful instructions on the tapering process. How much to reduce the dosage of laudanum over each day, how much fluids Jax needed to drink, how often to launder his bedsheets, etc. Jax could have done most of it on his own, as after the “cold turkey” debacle and the proper medications, his symptoms had become somewhat less severe. But having to suffer through that level of constant pain and need entirely on his own was something Pomni would not abide.

She hadn’t much desire to stay at The Shutnyk Estate anyway. Her parents took to ignoring her, especially her father, who shut himself in his office and took his meals at his desk. Her mother issued a few salutations in the mornings and best wishes in the evenings, but apart from that mostly kept to her gardening. Zooble had their duties and thus wasn’t a paragon of conversation either, apart from a few private discussions with Pomni about the day of the wedding.

It seemed to Pomni that The Shutnyk Estate was no longer her home, merely a liminal space where she ate and slept between staying with Jax. Perhaps it had been that way for quite some time, but it was only now that she felt comfortable admitting it.

She took the next morning after Jax’s family visited to bathe at last and then view the manor being built for them on the other side of the island. Her father hired a crew of Telychian workers for construction, as they were known for working quickly and efficiently. At least, her father liked to brag that Telychian men worked quickly and efficiently. The house was still nothing but a skeleton of oak boards by the time she arrived at the property. The workers were milling about, drinking coffee from tins that used to contain beans or fruit preserves. One worker seated on a log spotted her and called out something in Telychian which made the other workers laugh boorishly. They more than likely had no idea that Pomni was not only the future owner, but also the daughter of the man who hired them. But, Pomni didn’t speak Telychian, so she remained unbothered. Soon, the house would be hers to do what she pleased with.

—

Pomni truthfully hadn’t put much thought into how she would help her fiancé through his withdrawals. She was a poor conversationalist, and she didn’t have the stomach to ask her father if she could borrow any of his vinyls. He refused to let her touch them when she was a girl, and, given her recent behavior, probably would be disinclined to lend them to her now. It wasn’t until Pomni glanced down at the cover of the literary journal she borrowed from Kinger that morning that it clicked.

She could read to him.

They both loved books. True, he hadn’t finished Margaret’s Rise, but that was a significant undertaking, even for an experienced reader such as herself. She finished administering Jax’s medicine that morning before sitting at the desk chair.

“Mr. Krolik- …Pardon me. Jax. I’ve gotten a wonderful idea. Would you like for me to read to you? There isn’t much else to occupy our time with. A distraction is just the thing you need, isn’t it?”

Jax massaged his temples, a futile attempt to alleviate some of the pressure in his skull.

“I suppose so… But are you certain you’d enjoy that? Your voice may-”

Pomni interrupted. “Enjoy it? Jax. I’ve waited 25 years to meet someone, anyone to share my love of literature with. My parents were never interested, Mr. Kinger and Ragatha listened but had never read what I wanted to discuss… It would be an honor.”

Jax looked at Pomni. The young woman had her hands clasped together and wore an ear to ear grin, the first time he had ever seen her give a full-on smile. She was… beautiful, when she smiled. Perhaps that was the fever talking. Even still, he couldn’t help but smile wearily right back at her.

“I couldn’t turn down a look of such excitement even if I wanted to. I’d be honored if you read to me, dear.”

Pomni giggled with ebullient glee before she could stop herself. She blushed, covering her mouth and clearing her throat.

“I’m thrilled to hear that answer. Tell me, what would you like to read? There are hundreds of options. The only book I would request we not read is Humidity, as I’ve just finished that one. For a later date, perhaps.”

Jax rested his head on his pillow and thought for a moment. Thinking earnestly was difficult with a brain addled by pressure and a gnawing desire for opium..

“Something quite long and dense. Something that I can really become engrossed in without the prose being too dry. Something…. I can really become lost within.”

And please, opium. Please please PLEASE let him have some opium. He would feel ill for the rest of his life at this rate if he didn’t get opium-

“I have just the thing,” Pomni said excitedly. “I’ll be back in just a moment. Oh, I’m sorry, I haven’t asked, have you read The Ties that Bind by Antoine Goethe?”

“Mmm… no. No I haven’t.” Jax said.

“Oh, you’re in for such a treat! I have a copy in my father’s library. I’ll be just a moment!”

Pomni leapt from her chair and hurried out of the room. Jax chuckled a bit, watching her disappear down the foyer steps. He had hardly seen her react with such enthusiasm to anything. Well, positive enthusiasm.

He laid back on his pillow and looked up at the ceiling. He had already counted the dots and smudges on it. 62. 43 dots, 19 smudges. Allfather save him, did he ever need opium. It would be so much easier to enjoy… anything if he didn’t feel violently ill. He was a wretch without laudanum… Having something to focus on other than his all-consuming need sounded pleasant, however. Even if it would be unsuccessful.

He dreaded the next time that Alton reduced his dosage. Sleep was already nearly impossible with how horrid he felt, and even if he could sleep, he dreamed of opium. Horrific, perverted dreams of opium. A woman, her eyes replaced with crimson red poppy flowers. Brown, psychoactive nectar oozed from the flowers down her cheeks, and she presented him with an entire bouquet of the dripping things, tempting him to drink his fill.

But, if he didn’t receive enough opium, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. No escape from the pain. Hours and hours and hours of nausea and aches, trapped in this cramped little room. He could imagine it now, his eyes red and exhausted but unable to find rest, his brain fizzling from overuse until it popped like a lightbulb and died. Completely alone in the dark.

He heard the front door open and close, and the pitter-patter of feet on the stairs. Pomni returned with a door stopper of a book under her arm.

“Apologies for the delay. This is a rather sizable novel, if you couldn’t tell. Do you need anything before we begin?”

Jax shooed away the single request that his brain screamed for. “No, this should be just fine. Thank you my dear…”

Pomni smiled again. “Then let’s sally forth. I can hardly wait.”

Pomni flicked to the beginning page and cleared her throat.

“‘So. When The Allfather, in his wisdom, created the cascading spheres of existence, he created that of Men last…’”

—

Four days came and went, Pomni reading to Jax for almost 12 hours every day. The Ties that Bind was by no means a short story, and yet they were nearing the end of the novel in a little more than half a week. It helped that Pomni was quite the orator. She spoke quickly yet clearly, seldom fumbling with difficult to pronounce words. She only stopped for meals, explanations, or the occasional long and quiet sip of water.

Jax was a talented listener as well. He only interrupted when he had to leave the room to be sick, and on rare occasions dozed off for an hour or so from the weariness of intense illness. Otherwise, he was attentive and insightful, asking good questions about the novel’s characters, some even Pomni had never thought to ask.

“Do you believe Jeremiah has feelings for Garvey?” he asked two days into the novel.

Pomni looked up from the novel and blinked. “Feelings? I don’t catch your meaning,” Pomni replied.

“Do you believe Jeremiah’s hatred for Garvey is a defense mechanism against the former’s feelings of attraction for the latter?” Jax clarified. “It would make sense. He tries to sabotage Garvey’s relationship with Edelweiss not out of love for the woman, but out of an ill-defined ‘disgust’ for Garvey. It could be a matter of social class, or he could be concealing his true sexuality.”

Pomni felt another smile creep up her lips as she looked back at the text. “That is a unique perspective. Unlikely, but original. I admire it.”

Kinger was more than happy to assist. It had been ages since he had entertained any guests for a significant period of time. In between caring for his insect collection and making sketches of some taxidermied Silurian beetles, he brought his two visitors small meals to curb their appetites and occasionally sat in to listen to Pomni read for a while. There were moments when he jumped in surprise at seeing Pomni return the dishes to the kitchen, but each time Pomni patiently re-explained the situation.

—

On the fifth day after the visit, Pomni received her wedding dress. Bubble somehow managed to haul the dress, which was packed in a sturdy pinewood freight box, up to The Shutnyk Estate’s front stoop. Again, most of Primum Peccatum’s citizens found it tiresome to try and explain how Bubble accomplished such feats.

“Please sign your name here, Mr. Rucksack!” he squealed, holding out a clipboard and pencil to Vladimir with no visible hands.

“That’s ‘Shutnyk,’ sir. Honestly, how do you find anyone’s domicile if you have such trouble remembering a single surname?” Vladimir groused as he signed his name.

“All apologies Mr. Knotwrap! Here’s the tool you’ll need to open the box! PTOOEY!”

Bubble spat an iron prybar onto the stone porch with a loud clattering ring. He then tucked his clipboard into his mailbag and bounced away down the path like a child’s rubber ball.

It took the combined efforts of Vladimir and Zooble to pry the lid of the crate loose, the nails squeaking as they were dragged from the wood. Zooble took the lid and put it in the back garden for kindling. The dress lay in the crate, worn by a sewing mannequin, insulated on all sides with eight inches of straw and wrapped tightly in brown paper. Zooble removed the mannequin from the crate, the headless, handless and legless thing looking like an effigy meant to be sacrificed. With a few swift claw strokes, Zooble removed the paper, and the dress fell free in a plume of feathers.

“Oh… it’s beautiful,” Mirella sighed. “Pomni, won’t you come try on your dress?”

Pomni watched the extraction from the second floor landing, holding onto the banister. She took a quick step back.

“Erm… is that wise? Isn’t there an old wives tale of bad luck occurring if the bride tries on her dress before the wedding?” she replied.

“Oh, hardly, piccola. Come now, let’s see how it looks on you!” Mirella insisted.

“Mother, I really should be…” Pomni began, but trailed off. She wanted to finish her novel with Jax.

“Ms. Shutnyk, respectfully, you should try on your dress. At least to see if it needs any adjusting.” Zooble said.

Pomni opened her mouth to reply, but closed it soon after. Zooble made a fair point, as always.

She decided to change in the dining room. It took 15 minutes, but Pomni eventually figured out how to get herself into the blasted thing. She remembered a passage from one of her novels about getting into a wedding dress, and the strategy that the character adopted worked quite well for her, shockingly enough. She looked at herself in the mirror.

“I’ve dressed now!” Pomni called. At this announcement, her mother hurried into the room as quickly as she could without outright sprinting, Vladimir and Zooble following after. Mirella put her hands to her mouth and gasped.

“Oh, darling…”

The dress was a perfect fit. Shiny white, sleeveless and only reaching her chest. It was patterned with pearl-like, sequential beads of fabric, neatly split into two halves by a white waistband. The bottom half of the dress was decorated with feathers, beginning with a few up at the hip before thickening into a full plumage down at the hem. The frosty paleness of the dress amplified the raven black of her hair, and made her blue eyes glimmer like freshly polished aquamarines.

“Do I look half decent..?” she asked, glancing away from the three pairs of eyes on her. Her skin prickled with itchiness.

“You’re so beautiful. Oh, I could swoon!” Mirella took out her fan and flicked it open, fanning herself rapidly and biting back tears. “Vladimir, look at our little girl! Isn’t she just exquisite?”

Vladimir looked the dress up and down. He must have still been a bit sore about the price, as well as everything that occurred during the Kroliks’ visit. But he managed a smile.

“You look gorgeous, lisichka.” he said. “The spitting image of the ideal Telychian woman.”

“I’m not too certain about the ‘ideal Telychian woman’ bit, but you are stunning in that dress, Ms. Shutnyk,” Zooble said. “We owe Mr. Gummigoo our thanks for such intricate craftsmanship.”

Pomni blushed deeper and kept her gaze fixated on the floor. She was still incensed at her parents for their foolhardiness these weeks, doubtlessly, but… she couldn’t help but feel a warmth inside upon hearing them genuinely call her beautiful. It did make her feel a hint of regret…

“Well… I’m very pleased to hear that. I… I’m rather looking forward to wearing it for the ceremony,” she said. “But I must be going. Jax is expecting me. Today is another milestone in…-”

She paused.

“Well, he was improving last night, and hopefully this morning his symptoms will have further improved. Zooble, you don’t mind putting my dress back on the mannequin, do you? I’m unsure how to go about it…”

“I don’t mind at all, Ms. Shutnyk. Do not forget your book.” Zooble replied.

Pomni peeled herself out of the wedding gown and back into her plain yellow and green sundress. She sighed with relief, her body being able to breath again: She hurried up the stairs to her room, picking up The Ties that Bind as well as a pink faux book box she received for her 16th birthday. It had a small brass lock and key, “for hiding secrets inside,” her mother had told her. The only issue with such a gift was that Pomni had nothing to hide for the past 9 years, until this week.

She took the tiny brass key from her pocketbook and opened the lock, taking out the bottle of laudanum from inside. Alton entrusted her with the responsibility of hiding the narcotic before he left for Blackshell Bay. She swished the liquid about inside the glass bottle. About five drops or so left. She’d need a new bottle in two days. Today was the first reduction of his dosage since he started the tapering process. She hoped he took the news well.

—

“I’m only to receive one drop?’” Jax cried, sitting up in bed.

“That’s correct. Those were Alton’s instructions,” Pomni replied. She set down his sick bucket beside the bed after washing it in the tub.

“I… I don’t believe I’m ready.” Jax said.

“Yes, I know. Will you please open your mouth?” Pomni squeezed the bladder of the tincture dropper, filling it with brown liquid.

Jax did so, Pomni putting a lone drop of laudanum on his tongue. She replaced the dropper and tucked it into her purse.

“…Apologies. That sounded quite cold. I struggle with empathetic language…” she admitted as she placed her purse on the cluttered desk. “What I meant to say is that… I know you’re frightened. I have never felt withdrawals, but I have been ill before. And I can only imagine how dreadful it would be to have the symptoms last this long…”

She picked up her novel and dragged the desk chair to the side of the bed.

“But, you have my word that I won’t leave your bedside without prior notice. I will keep you company for as long as you like. If you’d like for me to stay up all evening with you, then I shall. Insomnia is a symptom of withdrawal, is it not? I am no stranger to reading until the sun comes up. Although I may need to rest my voice as I’ve come dreadfully close to losing it the past few days.”

Pomni looked Jax in the eye and smiled.

“I’m quite fond of you, Jax. Therefore, I’m willing to help you through this.”

She quickly glanced away and itched a spot on her arm, but a trace of a smile remained. Jax felt his face warm up as he smiled right back.

“I’m quite fond of you as well, Pomni. You know, we should consider marriage.”

Pomni squinted and looked at Jax. She caught onto his jest after a few moments and smiled, then laughed. Jax laughed with her. For a few precious seconds, he entirely forgot about opium.

—

Pomni made good on her promise. She remained at Jax’s bedside the entire day, leaving only to use the restroom or to rinse out Jax’s sick bucket. Jax’s symptoms, unsurprisingly, worsened. He developed a high fever of 101 degrees, complete with chills and cold sweats, and his nausea worsened. As such, they needed to close the window to keep any drafts out. Pomni had donned one of Alton’s peppermint oil masks to curb the resultant entrapped odor, occasionally refreshing it to keep from going “scent-blind.”

The morning became the afternoon, which drifted into the evening. Pomni read the last sentence of The Ties that Bind just before sunset, closing the novel and clearing her throat.

“How did you enjoy it?” she rasped. Her voice was largely spent, but she wore an eager smile.

“My dear, it was wonderful. What an ending.” Jax said. “Mr. Goethe really knew how to tie up every loose end. I can’t say I was expecting Garvey to end up being the one to eliminate The Grande Masquerade. I suppose it fits the theme of the class war though, does it not?”

Pomni nodded in agreement. She cleared her throat again and stood. “I shall return in a moment. I’d like to get something for my throat. But I believe it’s time for your laudanum.”

Pomni gave her fiancé another solitary drop of opium. It wouldn’t be enough to stop the symptoms, but it would hopefully decrease their severity. She was going to up his melatonin dosage tonight. While those vitamins could also be habit forming, they were hardly as dangerous as opium… and Jax needed some rest.

She left for a while, returning the laudanum bottle back into her false book at home, obtained several real books from her father’s library and brought them to Jax’s room, and made a pot of coffee in Kinger’s kitchen. She had no need for coffee, as she got plenty of sleep and was gifted (and cursed) with excellent focus. But she planned on staying up as long as Jax was awake tonight. That could be until midnight, or the witching hour, or sunrise. And for that, she would need caffeine. Not only that, but a hot drink on her weary throat would feel excellent. She thought about making Jax a cup as well, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was some kind of stimulant.

She opted for warm milk instead. Although, given her dreadful track record with cooking, she asked Kinger for assistance.

“Why certainly, Ms. Shutnyk! I remember when I used to make you some warm milk when you couldn’t sleep for the winter solstice! I’ll be just a moment!”

Kinger put a saucepan of milk with a spoonful of honey on the stove. Pomni grinned a bit at his enthusiasm. He really was a natural father figure… She always thought it a dreadful shame that he had no children. Perhaps it would have benefited his mental well-being…

Children. Again, she was on the subject of having children. …Later. There were other, more pressing concerns at the moment.

She poured herself some coffee, borrowing some of Kinger’s milk and a few lumps of sugar. After stirring them into the mug, turning the shiny black disk of coffee light brown, she had Kinger pour her some of the warm milk in a separate mug, the older shapeman saving the rest for himself.

“My appreciation as always, Mr. Kinger,” Pomni rasped. “We really don’t deserve your hospitality.”

“Hogwash,” Kinger waved his hand. “I’m honored to assist your fiancé on his journey to self-betterment. Hurry along now before your milk cools or it will no longer be soporific.”

Kinger placed a small, fatherly kiss on Pomni’s forehead before exiting the kitchen with his share of warm milk. Pomni smiled and went upstairs with the two steaming mugs. She’d have to set a few days aside to visit Kinger after the wedding.

Perhaps more than a few. Lovable old fool.

—

Pomni sat at the desk in Jax’s room with an oil lamp for light, reading a wordy narrative poem from one of the anthologies she brought over. She brought two disused and cobwebbed lamps from around the estate into the room, one for her and another for Jax. As she suspected, the warm milk did little to actually help the rabbit fall asleep, but that was why she brought over an abundance of reading material. If he was to be stuck awake through the wee hours of the night, it was just as well he had something to do…

He sat up in bed reading a lean novel at the moment, Superhuman by Dean Rush. A well-written, if rather self-important 150 pages detailing a man’s rejection of the bland and unfeeling social norms of the time. Pomni often joked to herself that if the main character was female, the story would balloon from 150 to 1500 pages with all of the obstacles she would have to endure.

The coffee, unsurprisingly, worked a treat. Pomni quaffed her mug of the brew in a half-hour or so, and her brain was suddenly operating at 120%. She drummed a finger on her thigh rapidly as she read through the epic poem in front of her. She wished she had brought over her pen and some paper so she could do a proper close reading of the poem, but the mosquitos would be rampant at this hour so a trip to her house wasn’t worth the bites.

What was the hour at the moment, she wondered. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock. 2:20 AM. Goodness. She hadn’t stayed up this late in years… The last time she could recall was in her teens, when she endeavored to finish the third volume of Berndt Isley’s Sycamore before the fourth volume hit the shelves that December. She succeeded, but the next day was perhaps the only time her teacher ever gave her a demerit for sleeping in class. She didn’t regret it one bit.

There was a flutter and soft thump, Pomni’s ultra-alert face flicking over to the source like a watchdog. Jax had slumped over, the Rush novel sliding off his lap onto the floor. He snored softly. Pomni gave a mildly amused “hmph,” picking up the novel and setting it on the desk. That book quite literally put him to sleep. Jesting aside, she was relieved for her fiancé. At last some respite…

She had no reason to sleep at the moment, as her brain still sparked with energy. But she did need the lavatory, so she excused herself to do so. Upon returning, she found Jax entangled in his bedclothes, eyes closed and mouth strained in a grimace. He gave a weak, far-off mewl of fear.

“Jax…?” Pomni whispered. Her voice had yet to fully return.

Jax laid still a moment before thrashing about, mumbling something.

“Jax, you’re having a nightmare,” Pomni whispered, going over to the side of his bed.

Jax laid still again for almost a full minute, then cocked his head to one side and squinted his eyes. He mumbled again, this time clearly enough to be understood.

“No… father…” He gave another whimper of fear and rolled onto his side, curling his knees to his chest.

Pomni hesitated, and after a few moments of trepidation, placed her hand on his shoulder. It quaked, and sweat dampened his nightshirt. She felt the familiar burning sensation on her hand, like she had placed it on a hot kettle and needed to remove it immediately.

“Jax, it’s me… It’s Pomni, please wake up..!” she whispered. She jostled his shoulder, fighting the urge to pull her hand free.

Jax’s yellow eyes shot open with a gasp, and he scrambled backwards on the bed, pressing himself to the wall.

“FATHER- no, please, I didn’t… …What?” Jax looked around, his mind not fully cogent yet. He glanced all around the room for where Drexl may have hidden, but, seeing only Pomni, he slumped against the wall, breathing unsteadily.

“…I’m afraid you were having a nightmare, Jax.” Pomni whispered. “A shame, you had just fallen asleep…”

“Father… he hasn’t-?” Jax muttered.

“Your father is not here. You’re not in any danger, I promise you…” Pomni whispered.

Jax looked down at himself and nodded. His eyes were bleary and expression flat, but the soft quivering of his ears betrayed his fear.

“Jax…” Pomni began. She suddenly felt an overpowering urge. Perhaps her inhibitions were lowered by the caffeine, or perhaps a latent feeling had at last bloomed within her, but she climbed onto the bed. Jax turned to look at her.

“Miss Pomni…?” he asked.

“Please don’t speak. Just… hush.” Pomni whispered. She knelt on the bed and chewed her thumbnail. “Oh, blazes… 1… 2… 3.”

She hugged him. His rail-thin body jolted at the sudden gesture. Pomni squeezed him, ignoring the muggy warmth of his shirt, as well as the dampness of sweat down his back. She put a cheek to his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat, which surely matched her own. He put a paw on her back in reply.

She wanted so badly to release him, her body pleaded that it stop touching another living, breathing thing. And yet, bafflingly, she wouldn’t have let him go for the world. He didn’t deserve to suffer, especially not on his own.

[weolucbasu]

🙋 I'm interested in your analysis of Nace's accent! Always interested in language.

Gosh, why do I promise to do things I know barely anything about...

Anyway, strap in kids, we are going to learn stuff about JO's dialects today.

First up, it's important to note that for how small Slovenia is and how few people speak the language, we have SO MANY dialects. I literally come out of a village of merely 2000 inhabitants, but our dialect is different from the neighbouring village's, which has 3500 inhabitants. In total, Slovene has 7 dialect groups and over 40 dialects in total.

So, in short about JO, before I disect Nace's accent: Kris and Bojan (and Martin) come from Ljubljana, which definitely has its own dialect. Often, Slovenes will call inhabitants of Ljubljana 'žabarji' (frog people) because Ljubljana itself is a marsh. And also because instead of using the nice Slovene 'Kaj?' to ask 'What?', a person from Ljubljana might say 'Kwa?' (don't know how legit this still is, again, please remember that I study English, NOT Slovene).

Jan and Jure come from Vrhnika and Logatec respectively. These two towns (at least in my eyes) belong to Notranjska, a very often ignored 'region' (Slovenia does not have official regions). Most people place us under Ljubljana, some place us with the karstic area, but I come from Notranjska, and goddamn, in my eyes they do as well! While there are many stereotypes about almost every Slovene region, also regarding speech, there really ain't that much about Notranjska. I also can't say that I've heard Jan and Jure talk enough to pinpoint them, or I'm just shit with dialects.

HOWEVER

In the recent episode of Welcome to the Backstage, Jure is trying to teach a British girl how to say Logatec. And he kinda pronounces it with an H (Lohatec), which I have definitely heard people from his area do. He also mentions Horjul, which is kinda close to Logatec and the girl is baffled at how to pronounce it. There are worse villages pronunciation-wise Logatec though, Grčarevec and Hotedršica, to name a few.

Okay, now I've let out my regional pride, let's finally get to Nace. The bassist of Joker Out comes from Gorenjska (the north-west of Slovenia) and yes, his accent is thick, but almost everyone from Gorenjska has a very noticeable accent, much like Štajerska. Now, I won't go too much into detail, but probably the best description of a Gorenjska accent is "it's like they have a golf ball stuck in their throat and are trying to get it out with the way they talk." And yeah, I deffo hear that with Nace.

I know I also mentioned 'ejga' in my tags and I can't not mention it again. It has no real meaning as it is a filler which can be placed both at the end and beginning of sentences. And it's highly typical for the Gorenjska region and I doubt my life will be complete until I hear Nace say it.

So as you can imagine, the Gorenjska dialect won't be winning any awards for sexiest Slovene dialect, but there are worse out there.

*slaps knee and takes a shot of schnaps of questionable origins*

Anon, hope this was fun, it definitely was fun for me, ejga.

[aether-wasteland-s]

Beach episode tag

thanks to @half-hell for the tag! I'm going to pass this onto @eternalyraven , @sergeantnarwhalwrites , @moltenwrites and anyone else who wants to join in!

what would your ocs do in a beach episode? the question for the ages, apparently... I'm gonna answer this for the crew of the white sails, because they operate close enough to a beach and i think a beach filler episode would be a great idea, actually!

Kelvyn would immediately find the closese body of water and cool off. It can get warm manning a bar, especially if it's not a partiularly large bar. They would probably go rock pooling, if such was available. He didn't grow up around the seafront, so it would be a pleasant change to find that there was a beachfront right near where he works.

AJ would probably try to indulge his inner child as much as possible. He is the one bringing the snacks, of course, a little cooler bag full of treats that he probably ends up taking the majority of anyway. He would join Kelvyn in the water, because i'm trying really hard to picture them not having a splashing fight as the waves rolled in, or daring each other to go in just a little further. (he also comes out of this experience with wet shorts but who doesn't come off the beach wearing wet clothes?

Alex, that's who. I mean, my girl is there for a good time, not a long time, so she's probably brought a book and a blanket, and she's laying on the sand trying to get a decent tan. For what it's worth, I think she manages. For what it's also worth, though this may be unrelated, i believe she would steal enough of AJ's snacks while he's out in the water soaking Kelvyn

[thesparklingwriter]

lunch is served!

“If only you were as good a cook as your outfit would suggest,”

tags: pet names, fem!reader, established relationship, they have a daughter, and reader still can’t cook (sorry)

ao3 link | taglist | masterlist | next

Hi I’m back, I did not forget about this I swear!!! Anyway I’m gonna go in with the usual spiel, requests for this are always open, and leave a comment if you want to be added to a taglist :) I’ll sort out links iab because mobile is being mean to me lol

When little Jingmei is fast asleep on her father’s lap after succumbing to a nap she’ll later deny the existence of, you often try to find topics to entertain Zhongli with as he waits patiently for his daughter to wake up. When you’re not around, he’ll pick up a book, or take a nap himself, but he takes great pleasure in talking to you like this.

When you open your mouth to start a new topic, he pats the space next to him on the sofa, gesturing for you to join him. And you do, nuzzling yourself into his chest, and pretending that you don’t notice the subtle sigh of content he lets out.

“Li,” you start, relaxing into him fully. “Why did you fall in love with me?”

Zhongli chuckles. “I am almost certain that this is some kind of trick.”

“It is not.” You scowl. “Am I not allowed to ask why my husband loves me?”

“You are, provided you don’t start a row when I give you my answer.” Zhongli’s hand trails up to your hair, gently massaging circles in your scalp.

If Zhongli really had to think about why he loves you, he’d probably struggle to quantify it. He’s been in love before, of course, but the way he feels with you is somewhat different. Perhaps it was initially your determination that drew him to you, or it could be your positivity, or the fact you brightened the days of all who were near you. But more than anything, it’s the fact that being with you feels like home. You’re his treasure—a gem he’s spent millennia searching for, and now he has you and he knows you love him as much as he does, he’s at peace. But expressing that in a few simple words will only lend itself to misunderstandings and you accusing him of using filler and metaphors to get away with not answering his question.

“I know my question wasn’t that hard.” You tease, prodding him slightly. His body is somewhat firmer when he’s in his half dragon form, yet at the same time, his touch envelops you in warmth and comfort. He tilts his head to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile.

“It was, my dear. How do you expect me to translate years of affection into one sentence?”

“I expect you to do it with enthusiasm.” You joke lightly. Jingmei stirs ever so slightly, muttering to herself as she adjusts herself, her tiny rounded horns digging into your thigh. “If I asked her why she loved me, she would answer immediately.”

“Jingmei would say it’s because you feed her.”

“And that is a perfectly valid and acceptable answer.”

“For an infant. I know you well enough to know you would not accept that from me.”

It’s true, you would not accept that from him. You expect his millennia on Teyvat to grant him the vocabulary necessary to express his love. But at the same time, seated the way you are, you can feel that he cares. It’s in the way he cradles you head to his chest, the way he strokes Jingmei’s hair with contented pride, the way his breathing slows as he savours the moment he’s sharing with you. Yes, you’d love for him to bullet point everything that's led him to this moment, but what’s to point in that?

“I changed my mind. Don’t say anything.”

“And why is that?”

“You’ll probably just make me cry, and then Jingmei will wake up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my love.” He chuckles. His laugh almost rumbles through him, stirring your daughter slightly. You pout, as if to complain, but in all honesty, you wouldn’t want her waking up any other way. But then her head drops and she falls back asleep again, whispering softly to herself.

“I do wonder what she dreams about,” Zhongli marvels.

“Probably food. On that note, I’ll make lunch.” As you stand to leave, Zhongli’s hand wraps around yours.

“Don’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Pretending your cooking is edible is an arduous affair. Let’s wait for Jingmei to wake up and then we can make something together.”

“You insult me.”

Despite the fact that your honour has been attacked, you wait for your daughter to wake up before tackling the matter of making lunch. At the mere mention of making food, Jingmei disappears up to her room, decking herself out in a chef’s outfit she’d gotten from Xiangling for her birthday.

“If only you were as good a cook as your outfit would suggest,” Zhongli jokes, helping her onto her stool so she can reach the kitchen counter.

“I am a good cook, Daddy. Promise.” She shoots back, crossing her arms petulantly.

“I believe you. Your father is just a big meanie.” You pull her into a hug, smothering her face and cheeks with kisses until she’s falling apart with giggles. “We should leave him here to make the food and play with your toys instead as punishment.”

“Let’s go!” Jingmei turns away from the counters and grabs your hand as she runs upstairs.

“You two are such cheats.” Zhongli complains quietly as he turns to the stove. His words fall on deaf ears as you’re already too far away to hear him.

[bluelead35]

the folio of foliage

alhaitham’s birthday special. 

alhaitham x gn!reader 

mentions of cyno, tighnari, nahida, nilou, and kaveh, and the reincarination theory, hints of alhaitham’s lore relating to his grandmother 

fluff, sfw, birthday blues, comfort, memories, nostaglia, sentiment, friendship,  bittersweet, confession, friends to ??? 

heavily inspired by  @l00106​ with their alhaitham birthday art, hope you dont mind me tagging you! 

In ancient civilizations and time gone by, many believers of the Scarlet King would bring offerings to celebrate the manifestation of the first appearance of their leader. They would bring fresh fruit from the forests, sing songs in front of the great mural of his Eye, and have great feasts. Even his fellow divine would join in on the festivities. The Greater Lord brought her presence to the desert to listen in and bring speciality items and songs, but also the Goddess of Flowers would put on a dance for the king. Despite Scarlet King’s hesitation towards his birthday celebrations, when both of his friends ceased to exist, he missed them dearly. 

But to cover up this feeling of sorrow, he would frown on these celebrations until the end of his rule and the fall of Gurabad. 

Alhaitham’s eyes scanned the pages of his book, sitting in a big blue chair that was placed in front of a large table sprawled out with books and papers. He had no time to dwell on the past, but he could never put aside his time for reading. The scribe understood the Scarlet King’s hesitation towards celebrations because at the grand scheme of life, fluff is only there for filler and that there was no true purpose to that. Only through logic and events that furthered life along directly was important. 

But to Alhaitham’s friends, they believed that birthday parties were crucial to life. It celebrated the way that Alhaitham was alive. .Alive enough to help the archon of his city. 

“Whatever do you mean Alhaitham’s birthday party? He has never struck me as the type to party?” Cyno’s voice was soft and quiet but you could hear it just fine over the ruckus in the cafe. A couple of students at the Akademiya were giggling and gossiping just thinking about Alhaitham. 

“I would love to participate. I could gather the ensemble for a special performance for him.” Nilou chimed in, setting down a few cups of coffee down on the table, smiling. 

Tighnari’s ears wiggled for a moment in thought as he came up with something. 

“We could get the archon to help.” Tighnari suggested, as Kaveh began to saunter in. 

“You, making a birthday celebration for that hermit?” Kaveh exclaimed, as Tighnari sighed. 

“Hermit" means someone who lives alone, Kaveh. He lives with you.” 

Kaveh rolled his eyes, sitting down next to you. 

“Like what do you see in him anyways?” This prompted you to look at Kaveh with the softest and tender look on your face. You chuckled, a light blush on your face, but then swallowed the feeling with a big gulp of coffee. 

“What do you mean? I just want to do something special for him. He saved the city from that godawful sage and the archon too.” You explained, as you received four looks from your friends. You brushed it off, as you began to initiate ideas for the celebration. 

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

His fingers brushed the spine of an old book-probably as old as him or even older. He couldn’t even remember a time without it. A small smile crept on his lips in the secret confines of his office, seeing the old lettering written inside the cover. It was addressed to him and I could still remember the feeling he had when he received it. 

The sunlight was seeping through the home, as an older woman sat next to him. He tore apart the wrapper paper meticulously and was surprised with a book. Its green cover with gold lettering brought his attention to the title. He looked at the woman and smiled wide. 

He held the book close to him as a young child, being inspired to read everyday, and now as an adult, he would always carry it around. The memories were worth it to bear sadness, but again, it’s a part of life. Celebrations were not. 

He shut the book, seeing the title of it, The Folio of Foliage, and put it away for the time being, feeling a tear inside but quickly dismissed it. He heard a group of students giggling up on the elevator, as he rolled his eyes. 

“Excuse me, do you have an appointment?” He asked the young ladies as they shook their heads. 

“Oh no, we just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.” 

He nodded at the regards, having no emotional response to it, and then dismissed them. He kept his head down in his books until nightfall. 

He closed up his office to be met with the shiny diamonds in the sky. He wiped his brow over the amount of work he had finished, and began walking along the street until he heard someone call his name. 

Her green eyes smiled into his own, as she was sitting on a swing she had crafted. He looked at her in admiration and respect, as she smiled. 

“A little someone told me it was your birthday, and you worked the entire day?” She questioned, as he nodded. 

“I don’t see celebrations as being crucial to life.” He responded, as she smiled. 

“I suggest you head down to Zubayr Theatre anyways. Just follow the scent.” The archon smiled, as she disappeared. He sighed, rolling his eyes and walked down the road to find the theater lit up with fireflies from the forest. He expected grand collaborations of sorts, but it was just you. 

You stood proudly on the theater’s stage with a few flowers in your hair, and surrounded by presents. You smiled at his appearance. He looked up at you with his mouth slightly agape, as the stagelight floated above you. 

“What’s this all for?” He asked, looking up at you. You turned red at his gaze, and titled your head up to find your friends above in the curtains of the stage handling the technical details. 

“Your birthday. I know you don’t like celebrations, so I thought maybe this doesn’t count as one.”  You offered his hand up. 

“The others helped clear Grand Bazaar out, so it’s just us two.” You smile at him, as he takes your hand. The softness of his hand onto yours made you blush even more, but kept strong. 

There was a silence that arose between the two of you, just watching the fireflies together and seeing the stars float in the sky, as you took a chance. 

Leaning on his shoulder, you clear your throat, “Did you tear up today?” 

He looked at you in confusion, “Huh?” “Did you get sad at all today? You know, birthday blues.” You explained, as he rested his head onto yours. 

“I did, yes, but I guess it’s quite alright.” “It is. It’s okay to be sad on your birthday. It’s a day celebrating your birthday and well the sad things that come across. The past memories make it sad sometimes. The thought of remembering someone when they’re gone, but isn’t that crucial to life?” You chuckle, as his eyes widen in shock. 

“I guess you found me out.” 

He eyed the presents in the back and having a bit of a smile, “Hope you accept these from the others. The one’s decorated in purple are from Cyno, green are Tighnari, blue are Nilou and red is Kaveh.” 

Another form of silence. 

“Also would you accept my gift for you? I know it would never top your grandmother’s, but…”  You trail off, the light blush resurfacing. 

“Hm, what is it?” He seemed a bit distant, aloof maybe, but he was inside his mind trying to process all of this. You whisper in his ear before giving him a kiss on the cheek.  “Happy Birthday, Alhaitham.”

[memberment]

Genesis

Good morning everyone I slept like hell. BUT. I'm ready to actually write water world(when my didn't-sleep-enough migraine goes away). Also y'all are starting to catch onto my lil secrets without me telling you.

Gonna have to start hiding more in different places. LMFAO. Anyways stay tuned updates are here today.

7:45: Chapter 13 is done and I can actually say I have put more work into this chapter than I have in probably any chapter I've ever written. The coding alone seriously took me two hours to figure out (and it is not perfect, but whatever. If anyone knows html pls lmk bc all of the YouTube tutorials and calls to the void have left me with nothing.) Anyways, we're at 43.2k. Also Tammy's almost done. Yippie.

8:26: In a fun update, I may very well be making not one, but TWO ship tags for this fic. At what point to I become the owner of rare pairs?

9:39: Y'all is this gay? (The weather forecast is starting to look like doomed yuri may roll in.)

(Yes there is a running gag of Tammy calling Wendy emo and I think it's fucking hilarious. )

Happy 12:52!

Here’s Tam. I gotta fix her bc I’m not too fond of her face but HERE WE GO

It's 6:35. I am not shutting down but I did just realize I broke 50k. I am currently on chapter 15. Which means a new player is introduced!! And I'm losing my shit! She was supposed to get introduced in 17, but I cut two chapters because they were honestly very filler-ish and whereas I do enjoy me a good filler chap, they'd probably be incredibly short and not very good at all. So there are little bits of filler and fluff sprinkled around. I might go back and phone in a filler chapter or two because I do love the ups and downs, but I am officially at the point of no return in this story. No more fun filler potential after this chapter. Like, I am writing Craig solo fight an angel as filler. I was originally gonna skip over it but chapter 15 is only 2.6k so far and that's just like disrespectful to its 3-5k brethren.

Also the angels I started concepting last night and finished tonight for chapter 14 fucking ATE!!!!!!! I love them so much oh my god their entire concept is fucking great. I also fear chapter 14 may be like one of the most well written fights/realms I've written and it's all downhill from here. God bless.

Okay it's 6:58. Chapter 15 is done. It's 3.6k. I can live with that. I'm closing up shop at 51.3k tonight. Goodnight.<3

[ambreiiigns]

Ok wait. Yes tell me what episodes are good and everything else you said in the tags, but does rick and morty have lore? I thought it was episodic?

ok first Yes there's lore. there's like. the backdrop premise of rick having just came back into his daughter's life after being absent since she was a child for undisclosed reasons but it is a big part of beth's characterization and why he gets away w all the shit he gets away with. but there's also Lore that ties w rick's crybaby backstory™ and like the universe in general is probably more. Complicated? Expanded? than you'd think? bc yea it SHOULD be episodic and self contained but the team is at war w that concept since s2 if not s1 already. it's why i'm annoyed at people complaining abt the random filler episodes in s7 like girl that's the Normal Episodes. the Lore Heavy Episodes are the little special treat for you not the standard?? it's a sitcom unfort.

so. maybe still my favorite episode is STILL from s1 ep8. rixty minutes aka interdimensional cable ONE!!! let me set the scene. a few episodes earlier morty's school was doing prom and he asked rick to make him a love potion to get the girl he has a crush on to go to prom w him. rick fucks up SEVERELY bc his nihilistic scientist brain didn't understand love (??? i mean we know he Does. but it was s1) and he accidentally turns everyone first into morty stans who wont him desperately and then into straight up Monsters. he can't figure out how to fix it so what he does instead is move morty and himself into a new dimension where the incident had also happened but that dimension's rick had fixed the problem And gotten himself and morty killed accidentally. so they swoop in and dig a grave for Themselves and take those rick and morty's place. for rick it's Nothing it's Normal he's been doing this a while he's closely aware of the many dimensions and many versions of himself etc in fact it becomes a Huge plotpoint soon. but morty's still new to this and having to? handle his dead body? and put it in the ground? and take its place like nothing happened? that's tough for him! baby's traumatized. rip

but everything's been self contained enough so far that you sort of dismiss it right. then two episodes later interdimensional cable happens. aka rick fucks around w their tv to hook it up to. interdimensional. cable. so they can watch stuff from every other reality out there (whoa!) and as they binge they bump into jerry being interviewed on some late night show and they're like HUH???? THERE'S A VERSION OF REALITY OUT THERE WHERE JERRY'S RICH AND FAMOUS???? so now beth and summer are also wondering what They're up to in other realities and rick gives them some goggles that let you see what different versions of you are doing. rick himself and morty are the only ones who don't care and just keep watching silly tv having a laff. in the meanwhile summer complains that every version of her is doing nothing cool while her parents are hitting the jackpot and beth offhandedly mentions that "if we accomplished our dreams it probably means you were never born" which is obviously HORRIBLE TO HEAR so summer being an angsty dramatic teen wants to Run Away From Home and beth and jerry start fighting abt how you ruined my life and all. morty smells blood in the water so he goes upstairs to cheer up summer and she's like. they had you on purpose as a symptom of their problems you're not the Cause of their problems you can't make me feel better. so morty points out his and rick's graves in the yard outside the window and tells her he's not even her real brother he's as much of an incident as she is rn and now that he eats breakfast a few feet away from his corpse he knows better than most how meaningless all of this is anyway. and he tells her. something that still brings tears to my eyes. he goes "nobody exists on purpose, nobody belongs anywhere, everybody's gonna die. come watch tv?"

ARGH! HE'S JUST A 14 YEAR OLD BOY WITH AN INSANE MAD SCIENTIST GRANDPA WHO'S BEEN DRAGGING HIM ON FUCKED UP ELDRITCH SPACE ADVENTURES THAT HAVE BEEN SHATTERING HIS INNOCENCE AND UNDERSTANDING OF LIFE! AND NOW HE JUST WANTS TO WATCH TV WITH HIS SISTER! it kills me it's so humane and childish and it was REALLY gutting to me. cause i didn't expect a callback at that point. i didn't expect the trauma to impact the characters. it was completely out of left field and it made me say oh. so this is good. so this is actually worth watching.

[thewritingsandwich]

The Chiming Lady - Part 6 (Last Part)

A Lockwood & Co. Fan Fiction

Other Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Summary: The agents of Lockwood & Co. are invited to the Halloween-Party of a former client.

A/N: This is the last part of the "filler episode". I hope you enjoyed this series and thank you for all of the support :) <3 I originally wrote this for @ savelockwoodnco on instagram's filler episode theme. But I'm a month too late... anyways this takes place after 'The Empty Grave' but there are no major spoilers for it. Originally I wrote it in german, but I translated it for the internet with the help of DeepL.

Tag List: @ahead-fullofdreams

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, brief mentions of su***de and mu**er

Our plan was probably one of our stupidest, but we didn't have much choice. We carried the rusty ladder up and positioned it in a way that would allow easy access to the beams above the bell. I volunteered to climb up, even though Lockwood would probably have been better off up there. But I wanted to do it; I had to do it.

I climbed the rusty ladder, which I didn't trust for a second, and wrapped my arms around one of the support beams. It creaked loudly as I pulled myself up. The others told me to keep going.

My small torch was enough for this narrow space and I shone it around once. A few spiders had taken up residence in the tower. And there! In a niche beneath the roof of the tower was a dead body - at least that's what I thought. A white, stuffed sheet lay squashed into the niche and looked very much like a corpse.

"Shit," I heard George shout and I looked down. A mistake. Not only did my heart drop into my pants because of the height - but also because Felicity's ghost was there, fighting the others. Just at that moment, the beam I was standing on creaked and sank down a little. Panic began to rise inside me.

I wasn't quite sure whether it was fear or ghost lock that prevented me from moving. My whole body was trembling, but I took a step back and another and another. Until I was as far away from the corpse as possible.

I had no silver net with me. Nothing but a load of 'Greek fire', the use of which was actually strictly forbidden indoors. But was I really indoors? If I had been in my right mind, I probably wouldn't have detonated the bomb, but at that moment, filled with fear and ghost lock, I saw no way out. So I detonated the bomb, threw it towards the corpse and jumped off the beam.

The landing dragged on my knees, but there was no time for pain. The bomb exploded and with it the beam carrying the heavy bell. There was no trace of the others.

I rushed to the stairs as the bell hit the unstable wooden floor. The door downstairs was open and George and Holly were already halfway through when I arrived in the room below the bell.

The beams came crashing down and the bell followed through the ceiling as I crossed the room. Lockwood reached out his hand, but just before I could get a grip on it, I sagged as the bell also broke through this floor and pulled me with it. Burning pieces of wood and beams fell past me with the bell. Something must have hit me, because a sharp pain in my left leg shot through me out of nowhere.

I tried to cling to what was left of the floor, but it broke off too. I fell into the depths, but hit the floor much sooner than I thought. Apparently there were still some rooms inside the tower, through which the bell now crashed one after the other.

The impact knocked all the air out of my lungs as my head hit hard against the wood. Then everything went black.

* * *

An old radio was playing a familiar song, but I couldn't say exactly where I knew it from. I drew in air and each breath hurt a little.

I carefully opened my eyes. Cool light greeted me, just like the typical sterile white of a hospital. What had happened? Who had brought me to the hospital? How long had I been out? I was lying in a hospital bed, connected to some equipment and had a catheter in my left hand. My eyes wandered to my right hand.

On my right side, Lockwood was sitting in a chair with a gossip magazine on his chest and his eyes closed. He held my right hand lightly. I looked at him very closely. He had washed the red color from his face very quickly and messily, as there were still a few spots of red here and there. He was no longer wearing his costume, but his typical suit, while his long coat was hung on a hook directly opposite me.

Strangely enough, I was lying in a single room. Even though he was sleeping so incredibly peacefully, I lightly squeezed his hand and sure enough, it was sufficient. He opened his eyes and smiled with relief.

"Luce... how are you?" he asked.

"I think okay? Deep breaths hurt, but otherwise I'm fine, I think," I replied. He looked so incredibly tired. The circles under his eyes were even darker than usual and his otherwise tidy appearance was a complete mess. He straightened up slightly and put his hand on my cheek.

"I'm so glad you're okay. You gave us an incredible scare. I thought you'd learned not to use Greek fire indoors anymore." Then he leaned forward even further and kissed my forehead. "I'm so glad you're okay." He pulled back a little again and looked down at me. At that moment, when he looked at me like that, I really didn't care about anything else. His look was similar to the one he'd had when we'd danced at the Halloween party. Without thinking about it, I grabbed his tie and pulled him down to me. We kissed - despite my pain and the situation. Maybe it was the painkillers I was given that made me jump over my shadow. I didn't blame them.

"Lucy's feeling much better already." Lockwood and I immediately broke apart and I felt the blood rush to my face. George stood in the doorway of the room, grinning. In his hands he carried containers from restaurants and next to him stood Holly. They clearly didn't look as tired as Lockwood.

"Gosh, George," Holly replied, punching him lightly in the arm. Then she looked to me and gave me a thumbs up before mouthing the words 'good job'.

"Now please tell me what happened," I demanded as George passed around the food and they all sort of sat around the bed.

"After you detonated the bomb - which was a terrible idea, by the way - the bell fell completely through the tower and you went down with it. But you only fell one floor, while the bell made it all the way to the first floor. You were probably knocked unconscious by the impact. We had to stop Lockwood from jumping after you. Well, then Holly sprinted to Mrs. Pearson, who called an ambulance and DEPRAC. Barnes is a little upset, but no more than usual. What else? Oh well, Mrs. Pearson blamed herself entirely for the situation, which I have to agree with her a little bit because who invites guests into a haunted house? And who doesn't check an old house for ghosts? Also, because she felt so bad, she insisted on putting you up in a private clinic, hence all the gimmicks. Did I forget something? Oh yes, you did take out the source of the Chiming Lady, as I call her. Barnes sent other agents to the house the following night to deal with the stray, but it ended up requiring almost the entire lake to be pumped out. The tower's a mess, but I tell myself the bell was too heavy for the beams anyway, so it was only a matter of time," George said, eating Chinese noodles.

"No financial troubles?"

"No, Mrs. Pearson is feeling too guilty," Lockwood replied, sitting back in his chair next to my bed.

I nodded. "How long was I out?"

"Two days. You weren't really gone. You kept waking up before drifting off again. The doctors say you were lucky. You only have a few minor burns on your arms, some bruises on your ribs and you came in with a concussion. Oh and a cut on your left leg. You should stay here for a few more days to be checked out for your ribs," Holly explained. Lockwood held my right hand again and kept stroking it lightly. "So you should... I mean you should take it easy." She winked at me and I blushed again.

"And was it at least worth it? The party and our display of talents?"

"Actually, yes, we already have some new cases from former guests," she said. "I think the destruction of the tower became more of a minor detail that no one really cares about."

[piastrinorris]

get to know me!

anna @keerysquinn filled this in and i was thinking about my own answers and realised they go on for ages so i figured if y'all ever wanted a super lore drop about me. here it is!

since my answers are so long, i'm not going to tag anyone, but if you also get inspired to answer, i'm more than happy to learn about people so you can tag me in as the reason you want to answer these!

(under the cut bc of how long it gets lol)

Name(real or alias): rj. letter r, letter j. (i have to spell it out especially when i'm in america bc people think i'm saying audrey) it's an abbreviation of my given name, which considering it's common knowledge that i'm afab, it's probably pretty easy to guess? but i don't want anyone calling me anything other than rj, or ridge

ridge comes from the sounds 'ruh' and 'juh' being said real quickly in succession. my friend jamie once sent me an ask on my old blog forever ago that started with 'hey ridge' and i fell in love with it, but something feels weirdly overfamiliar when people call me it who i'm not mutuals with?? anyway, that's why my user tag is userridge, bc it wasn't being used and it is a legit nickname of mine i've had for years

Age: [schmidt from new girl voice] TWENNY-NOINE

Country you live in: england (derogatory). the oldies at the care home i work at (not for much longer!!) always assume that bc i visit my friends in america so often, i'm planning on moving there, but tbh as much as i'd love to not be an ocean away from the people i love most, domestic day-to-day life in america isn't worth the move. i'd rather sensationalise the one or two trips i get to wal-mart every year, lol

Fandoms: the only fandom i actively participate in, in terms of consuming regular fanart, fanfiction, character analysis, gifmaking and shipping, is stranger things. i have a lot of other interests in other media that i love to consume, but i don't necessarily feel any particular urge to take part in most, if any, parts of fandom culture within those interests like i do with stranger things and other projects affiliated with its actors

Why are you on tumblr (writer or reader or both): i've gone from being strictly a stranger things reader insert writer, to an all-characters-played-by-the-joes reader insert writer, to a sometimes reader insert writer but not for stranger things, sometimes pairing writer but only for stranger things rarepairs, and also now gifmaker!

Favorite thing about yourself: i can take care of people, and i'm good at it. i can make people feel better, and i can stand up for them when it's needed

Something you think you are known for: being the co-captain of cheerscoops, and The Ralph Mutual (which is a kind way of saying the mutual mentally unwell enough to write a six-figure word count about a character with six minutes of screentime)

Who are you in a friend group(partier, mom, talkative, etc): lol what's a friend group? i kid, i kid. i don't really have any irl friend "groups" anymore, but even back when i did, i was more of a gap filler. like, i wasn't one of the first people invited to things, but then later on if someone dropped out or if the group realised more people could come, then i'd be offered

in online groups, i like to think i'm someone who makes people laugh? i'm definitely the indecisive one who needs to crowdsource every choice put in front of me, but that's what you get when you befriend a nonbinary bisexual lol. i also like to bounce ideas back and forth with people, though admittedly despite how often i do it, i do also hold myself back from it a lot bc i don't want people to think i'm taking their idea and running with it

Who do you love the most: keep this clip in mind as you read the next part of this sentence: ask me that again and look at my url. i haven't felt such a (distantly) parasocial connection towards (not with, there's a difference) any celebrity in a long time that i do with the joes. like, i don't want to know anything about their personal lives in the slightest, but i'm always excited to see what they're doing next, in a way i'm not necessarily about anybody else

What brought you to tumblr in the first place: this blog started out because @denim-mixtapes and i, who met through our former blogs dedicated to A Fandom We Don't Talk About Any More, were yelling about eddie munson via snapchat, discord, instagram, our public twitter accounts and our private ones, tiktok, maybe more? and then @fanatictypist, also a friend from AFWDTAAM and deep in the brainrot but never having taken the break from tumblr that mandy and i did, suggested taking our ideas to tumblr bc this was july 2022 when hype was INSANELY real

before that, i made a blog specifically for AFWDTAAM because a) i missed the fandom blog i'd had before that which i had previously deactivated, and b) i realised there was reader insert fanfiction for said fandom, but not enough featuring the person that i liked the most, so i started writing. i'd never written x reader before then.

before that, as i said, i had a fandom blog. it was the one i used to join rp groups on tumblr, which was fun until it wasn't. and i realised that i was going through a cycle of finding a new group, enjoying their company, having major drama ensue, and eventually instead of just moving to another rp group to see the same thing happen over n over again, i just deactivated entirely. i miss rp-ing, but also i wouldn't go back to it at the age of 29

Is there something you regret doing: i have a lot of things that i have learned from, and i regret the fact that actions i've made have hurt people, always inadvertently, but still. i wish that the things that helped me to grow weren't at the expense of other people feeling bad about something in regard to me, but i don't think that constitutes regret.

being autistic, a lot of the time, people seem to just drop me out of seemingly nowhere. and my irl bestie does tell me that a lot of the people i end up befriending, are people she gets a bad vibe from or doesn't really trust, and they're always the ones who don't stick around. but i do feel as though i must be accountable, too, and i know and understand that nobody owes me an explanation if i have done something that warrants them no longer wanting me in their life, but also, how do i know what i need to do to salvage important relationships to me if they don't think it important enough to tell me? that's why i'm a big advocate that your friends should not be your 100% hype men. if they are, i don't trust them. i need people to call me out on my shit and tell me if i'm doing something wrong, or going too far. and i need to feel like i can do the same with them, without them getting offended. it's for both of our benefits

Top five songs: ugh okay each of these has a v significant meaning so here goes

fool - djo: as previously mentioned, am autistic. i got myself diagnosed at 20, and everything suddenly made sense. my mum refused to accept it, told me that everybody's a little on the spectrum, that i only think i am bc i've looked it up and aligned myself with the traits. i learned at 28 that actually, i've had a diagnosis since i was 4. mum just never ever did anything to help me. not when i was going through school wanting to **** ****** bc i knew i was the "weird kid" but i didn't know what made me so weird that everyone ganged up on me so i didn't know how to fix it. turns out i couldn't. i could have gotten more support, but i didn't. and even now that they know i know about the og diagnosis, my parents refuse to acknowledge it. for years, they would scold and bully me away from behaviours that were actually just me stimming, and merely existing as an autistic kid. so i have to put on a persona for them, i have to be their "fool" to appease them rather than just getting to be my authentic, autistic self like i can be around my friends

consequences - lovejoy: going back to the earlier not-quite-regret-but-definitely-Something feeling of knowing that someday friendships and relationships will almost certainly be doomed. this sing encapsulates that for me a lot

car lights - james marriott: the queer anthem of all time. m+d have always said that they "don't care" who i bring home but whenever they talk about me having a future they talk about a husband, or a potential father of my children (which idek if i want) even though i've had relationships with women. it again feels part of something i have to hide from them

soft - motionless in white: a new contender thanks to kai and acey. i've always been the "wholesome" one, i've never really felt rage specifically, or had an outlet for it, but being a lifelong people pleaser and having something to inspire me to work on giving less of a shit what other people are thinking/saying about me has been a game changer for the ol self-esteem

undertale - toby fox: i can't explain this one. it just makes me cry every time i listen to it. like, weep actual tears. every time.

If you could go anywhere where would you go: i've always wanted to go to japan, but i also don't like going to countries where english is not a first language without having a basic understanding of the mother tongue of that country and japanese is fuckin difficult to learn. i've also always wanted to go to australia, even before anyone in particular came into my life tyvm

What is your hobby: fanfic writing, gif making, video game playing. procrastinating is a hobby at this point, lol. i like to try craft things, but i'm not very good at keeping up with them

Any tv shows you watching: i'm rewatching stranger things bc gifmaking has ruined my perception of the actual timeline of events. i'm actively watching the afterparty s2 and only murders in the building s3. it's not really a tv show, but i watch it on my tv, dimension 20's current campaign, mentopolis, is also something i'm actively keeping up with, on top of all actively releasing dropout content

What movie did you last watch: the last movies i put on were the mamma mia films, as background while i wrote, and ever since i've been slowly cooking a mamma mia stranger things au bc i'm basically incapable of consuming any media without relating it to stranger things at this point. i can relate each of the 3 canon characters to eddie, steve and jonathan, but i can't shake the idea that like. what if argyle was one of the potential dads. it wouldn't be a direct parody bc he's so different from any other character in the mamma mia franchise but i think it would be so fun to include him, too

Last thing you read(book, fanfic, etc): i'm reading rebel robin, atm, bc idk why i never really thought to indulge in the stranger things books before now? i used to read doctor who books so it's not like i'm a stranger to consuming media outside of its original format. i'm also currently reading through @pearlypairings' photocheer fic there is a light that never goes out!

Last text message you got: HAHAHA this one's funny. my sister's getting married next month and she's asking if we've all paid for our parts, I told her I'd paid it and her fiance told me they'd receievd it (he's an accountant so he's dealing with the money side of things) but my sister couldn't spot anything from me even though i told her what her fiance had told me, so my last text from her is "unless he's financially gaslighting me, or he's tucked it away in his fuck-off fund" (which i should establish is a joke bc he is 1000% not like that in the slightest)

Last text message you sent: sending to my sister, above: "or he's gaslighting me into believing i've sent it when it didn't go through, classic Dishonest [fiance name redacted]!" (again, all a joke)

Any pets: none atm :( i still live with my parents who have never wanted any of us to have pets, but now that my older sister has her dog, jasper, my family are obsessed with him. i mean, they have a photo of him in our living room that's bigger than any photo of any of us kids

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

I was gonna reblog this to say that while OP is right, I don't think it's so much "media literacy is dead" as it is "media itself has been truncated for profit and therefore it doesn't matter how much the writers understand the original point when they have to boil it down to fit the new timeframe the execs decided on anyway".

But then I did the math and it turns out the runtime is exactly the same.

20 episodes x 24 minutes = 480 minutes

8 episodes x 60 minutes = 480 minutes

What the heck. What are the writers even doing with all that time if not going off on wacky adventures?

But OP I do need to say something about these tags:

#like this fanbase's analysis comes close to that of the lord of the rings fandom #and yet you seem to have completely ignored it

1) Until ATLA has a notable population of fans with PhDs in various Medieval Asian Studies who publish peer-reviewed journals dedicated to the show, host annual conferences, and are referred to as ATLA Scholars, I'm afraid this fandom is nowhere near the level of the Tolkien fandom.

2) Even if ATLA did have such things, I doubt it would help, because the existence of Tolkien Scholars did not protect LOTR. A lot of liberties were still taken with the plot and characters in Peter Jackson's film trilogy, the most egregious probably being Faramir's characterization in The Two Towers and Denethor getting boiled down to a selfish and stupid leader, but also Galadriel's moment of temptation, Legolas's entire personality disappearing, Gimli getting reduced to comic relief, and Aragorn's reluctance to take the throne in general. And Tolkien Scholars were not a new or unknown phenomenon at the time--they've been around since at least the 70s, some of them were consulted while making the films, and it's safe to say that New Line Cinema was extremely wary of upsetting Tolkien fans in general (as evidenced by the fact that they completely scrapped all the scenes they'd already filmed of Arwen fighting at Helm's Deep because Tolkien purists pitched a fit).

That intense level of fan dedication still wasn't enough to protect the characters, and those films are from an era when studios still cared enough to put some heart and soul into their work.

But that's turned out to be the Jackson films' saving grace. Because when compared to the source material, the films are sorely lacking--but taken on their own, they're excellent pieces of art. I love the films, but whenever I watch them I'm always running a comparison to the books in the back of my mind. I can see where the missing pieces are. But I can also see why they were removed, and I can feel how much care and love and effort were put into the movies by everyone who worked on them. That's why the Jackson trilogy still captivates new viewers over 20 years later.

We'll have to wait and see if Netflix ATLA manages to pull off the same effect despite its own departure from the source material. Maybe the lack of Season 1's goofiness will be made up for with something else. Maybe it'll stand up on its own merits. Or maybe this'll be a novel blip in ATLA fandom history before we all ignore it and go back to prioritizing the cartoon.

One thing I do know for sure tho is that if Season 1 isn't goofy in live action, people who watch the live action first and then get into the cartoon are gonna complain about Book 1 being too silly or full of filler. Calling it right now, that's gonna be the #1 complaint among YouTube reactors. But it'll be a good way to weed out the weak. :P

Ok now we're just taking the piss right? Right?

Once again this sort of thinking is removing a fundamental character arc that makes this story what it is. A big part of Aang's journey, especially in season 1, but tbh it does return in later seasons too, is accepting that he is the Avatar, and that he's the only one who can end this war. During the whole first season he is in complete denial about who he is and what he's supposed to do, which is why in most of this season there's no sense of urgency, and then once Aang gets faced with a very real, very close deadline he panics. This makes it even more brutal when in season 3, after accepting this responsibility, he gets faced with the reality of failure. He runs away again, this time not because he doesn't want responsibility, but because he knows how heavy his responsibility is and he doesn't want to burden anyone else with it. Removing the first aspect, aka running away and denying responsibility, it in turn also removes the heavy emotion from his later arc.

It keeps surprising me that people who claim to be such fans of the original seem to completely miss the point of most of this story? Like how could you look at Sokka learning about women's rights, Aang learning to accept responsibility, and Katara's motherly warmth which happened because how young she was when she had to step into a motherly role, and think "well we should remove that." You're taking out all of character development and going purely off of plot (which isn't gonna be nearly as good without the character development!)

Atla is probably one of the most analyzed and picked apart story, has one of the most long running loyal fanbases, people are STILL making thinkpieces about this show, and you manage to still misunderstand so much???

[beardedhandstoadshark]

What’s the best arc in any show or game in your opinion?

Disclaimer: my catalogue of interacted with media is that of a 14y old who liked watching cartoons for intended audiences younger than them plus Dark Souls. My favorite redemption arc is that of a Lego man who spins evilly. These opinions are highly questionable at best and also very limited

Anyways, Spoilers for Season 4 of Yugioh ig because this series is both old and well-known enough for people to probably go back and rewatch it who’ve never seen it outside of memes:

That one arc where Yugi fucking dies

and it’s all the Pharaohs/Yami Yugis fault

Not only is the status quo in shambles, but it’s brought on by none other than one of the MC‘s himself, and because of his own hubris no less. And the victim is the other MC who sacrificed himself for him so he couldn’t even take the consequences for his actions. Right after they argued about using the move that’d lead to disaster. Instead Yami gets to be constantly reminded of his failures as he gets to perma-control his buddies’ empty body instead of tag-teaming during card games like they used to, because he’s alone for the first time in this series now :)

And this is not a one or two-episodes thing, but stays this way the entire arc.

Iirc along the way he also gets to fight a possessed version of Yugi who‘s using the exact same tactic that Yami used and led to Yugi‘s soul getting snatched, so that’s fun!

And all of that happens on top of the usual Yugioh stuff. It’s wild. Did I mention this is a filler arc exclusive to the anime? Yeah

[xieyouji-xiegushi]

Just What I Needed (Chapter 1)

Cross-posting my fics while AO3 is down! This is a multi-chapter fic; please check out the contents page for additional tags, overall CWs and other chapters before reading!

Title: Just What I Needed (Chapter 1) Fandom: Supernatural Rating: E Ship: Destiel Chapter 1 CWs: none Summary: All Sam and Dean have to their names right now is $200, a '67 Chevy Impala, and a lead.

Dean walked into the restaurant, fiddling with his shirt, the top two buttons of which were undone, the collar sitting at a jaunty angle. He scanned the room, searching for a vaguely familiar face. His eyes settled on an older man, probably in his early 50s, sitting alone at a table for two. Dean took a deep breath and walked over to join him.

“Hi, are you Max?” Dean asked.

“I am! You must be Charlie.”

“That’s right. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Max looked him up and down, taking Dean’s appearance, his eyes resting for a moment on the patch of exposed collarbone.

“Charlie, I’m quite sure the pleasure is all mine.”

Dean smiled. A cheesy line, but nothing he hadn’t heard before. He sat down at the table opposite Max, who had already ordered them a glass of wine each.

“I have to say, Charlie, I’m thrilled that you agreed to come out with me this evening. A man of my age… you younger types don’t usually look twice.”

“Well, Max, I tend to find that men of your age, as you put it, appreciate the finer things in life. So much more than guys my age do, anyway.”

“Well, if you have the means, why not? That’s what I say. Now, if you don’t like the wine, we can try a different one. Please, order anything you want.”

Dean happily obliged. The restaurant was quite expensive, and fancy, which probably meant the portions would be small. Dean scoured the menu for the most promising option, eventually settling on two simple pasta dishes, ordering both under the guise of not being able to decide. Max didn’t mind – the wine he had ordered already cost more than the entire meal.

Dean picked at his food and nursed his wine. He supposed he should make conversation, as an excuse for his slow eating.

“So, tell me about yourself. Who is Max? What brings a man of taste such as yourself to Nowheresville, USA?”

“Well, you see, my father wanted me to become an accountant, like him. But it wasn’t the life for me. I went to school for it, but after completing my degree, I found my real passion. So, I became a financial manager. Take that, Dad!” Max laughed at his own joke. At least, Dean thought it was a supposed to be a joke.

“Sorry, um, I’m not sure I understand the difference.”

“Oh, there’s a huge difference! You see, an accountant manages people’s accounts, whereas a financial manager…”

Max continued to explain the differences in excruciating detail, and Dean drifted off. He ate and drank just enough to be polite, but still leave leftovers. He made filler noises and asked simple questions to feign interest, whilst keeping half an eye on his watch. As the time ticked on, he began to grow restless. At precisely 8.30, his phone rang.

“Hey, sorry, do you mind if I take this?”

“No, go ahead.” Max smiled at him.

Dean nodded his head, before standing up and walking a few feet away from the table.

“Hey, Sammy.”

“Hi Dean. This is your get out of jail free call. Ready to wrap up?”

“Sure, I’ll come pick you up. Be there in 20 minutes.”

“See you soon.”

Dean hung up, and paced for a few seconds, for effect. He marched back to the table with a frown.

“Max, I’m so sorry, it looks like I have to cut this short.” As he was talking, he waved over a waiter. “I’ve got a small emergency I need to go and take care of. Yeah, can I get these to go please?” he asked the waiter, gesturing at his two plates of pasta.

Max looked slightly taken aback, but quickly recovered. “I’m sorry to hear that, Charlie. Is there anything I can help with?”

“No, thank you, it’s okay. I had a lovely time this evening. Thank you so much for dinner. Take care, Max.” The waiter returned with his food, and he grabbed the bag and left before Max had much of a chance to answer.

Dean jumped in the Impala, which he’d left parked about a block away from the restaurant. He fired up the engine and headed over to the local library. He arrived at exactly 8.50, and Sam was waiting on the steps outside. Dean honked the horn, and Sam jumped up and ran over, clambering into the car. They pulled off, and Dean drove them to the nearest free car park, pulling into the first free space he saw.

“What did we get?”

“I don’t know, pasta something. Truffle maybe.”

“Truffle? Fancy restaurant?”

“Yeah, real expensive. Tiny portions, so I got two.”

“How was it?”

“What? The pasta?”

“Your date.”

“It was fine. He was nice enough. An accountant or something. You know, boring, but harmless.”

Sam nodded. “Don’t you feel bad? You basically scammed some lonely old man.”

“Yeah, not for the first time, and it won’t be the last. As for what I feel, what I feel is hungry. Come on, dig in. This stuff won’t be good cold.”

Sam grabbed some camping forks from the glove compartment, and they ate their lukewarm pasta in silence. After finishing his food, Dean reached over Sam and pulled out an envelope. He rifled through it.

“How much is left?” Sam asked.

“About $200.”

“So, can we get a motel tonight? I don’t want to sleep in the car again.”

“Afraid not. We need gas, and new brake pads. These ones are down to their last scrap.”

“You know, if we’re gonna be in this town for a while, I could get a job. You know, a regular job.”

Dean looked at his brother. Sam was serious. And worried.

“No way. You’re in school – focus on that. Who the hell is gonna hire some 15-year-old anyway?”

“I can lie. Dean, we’re broke. Dad’s cash is literally about to run out. And the only other thing he left us was this money pit of a car.”

“Hey, don’t talk about the Chevy that way. Sammy, I know you’re stressed, but don’t be. I’ll figure something out.”

“What, are you gonna start scamming for McDonald’s coupons?”

“I said I’d figure it out. Now shut up and get to sleep, you’ve got school tomorrow.”

Grumbling, Sam crawled into the back of the car. The backseats were down, creating something approaching a bed. Dean watched his brother awkwardly fold himself up and cover himself with the thin blanket, before turning around and trying to get comfy in the driver’s seat. He drifted off, sleeping lightly enough that he would wake if there was trouble.

The alley is dark; only its mouth is lit by the faint orange glow of a nearby streetlight. Dean limps into the black, glancing furtively at his surroundings, trying to make out whatever shapes he can. His right hand is glued to the gun at his hip.

He hears a snarl behind him, before an ungodly force knocks him to the ground. Claws tear at his back and sharp, white teeth dig into his neck. He hears a crack. A gunshot. The creature – a vampire – springs away from him, towards the source of the bullet, screeching at the sky.

“Dean, run!” calls his father. John is standing 20 feet ahead of him in the alleyway, his shotgun locked and loaded. The vamp bounds towards him.

“Get up, Dean!” But Dean is fixed to the floor. He can’t run. He can’t look away. The vamp reaches its target. It tears into John Winchester, rips him limb from limb. He screams.

“Dean! DEAN-“

“- Dean! Dean! Come on, I’m gonna be late for school!”

Dean was abruptly pulled from his dream, shaken awake by his brother. He blinked a few times to clear the images from his vision, before putting the car in gear and racing over to Sam’s school. After dropping him off, Dean swung around and headed back to the library. He was here for a job, after all, and he had work to do.