#atlas talks in poems?

[xxatlasxx]

and if i walked into the ocean, what then?

If I just disappeared into the waves, what then?

If my body became ash and the wind took it away, what then?

The wind blew and the rain came and I no longer existed

what then?

[the-genius-az]

What is something special that Azula does only for Mai? Ty Lee? What does Mai do only for Azula? Etc. Could be something sweet or spicy

Thanks for the question, Amor!

Azula learned to make knives for Mai, she could easily buy them, but she decided to give more meaning to her gifts.

Azula wrote songs and sang for Ty Lee, after the girl admitted to loving her voice after a music class.

Mai wrote her daily life to Azula when the princess was too busy to be there.

Mai wrote poems for Ty Lee, she did it even more when she ran away to the circus.

Ty Lee painted Azula in all her paintings, the princess was her beautiful muse.

Ty Lee danced just for Mai, she taught her all the dances she learned.

[phoenixcatch7]

Okay so I'm reading a pjo dark fic, Percy falls into tartarus without Annabeth, standard fare, it's really good, so I start to wonder about the spheres of power of each of his travelling companions (Bob and Damascus (+drakon)). Obviously both of them met percabeth in canon, else I wouldn't bring it up.

And I think there's something to be said for Percy Jackson, half blood, to befriend the titan of mortality and the giant of peace.

[cantheykillmacbeth]

What about Heimdall? He was born of 9 mothers, so he wasn't woMAN born, but woMEN born.

Heimdall is... complicated. People have tried to bring up "womEn" vs "womAn" before in the context of the parents being lesbians, but that has always just felt like such a lame explanation to me. For our purposes, if the character was born of at least one woman, then they don't count for the Birth Parent Clause.

At the same time, however, being born of 9 different women is certainly... esoteric. Unfortunately, we don't have any clear answers as to the logistics of how this was meant to have worked, and it's apparently a topic of heavy debate among historians and scholars; it always just said (paraphrased) "Heimdall was the son of Odin and nine sisters."

One popular (though not necessarily accurate) theory is that the nine mothers were the Nine Daughters of Ægir and Rán, who were personifications of ocean waves. This would imply that Heimdall was 'born of the sea,' perhaps in a similar manner to Aphrodite. However, this theory starts to hold a lot less water (hehe) when you take the names of these women into account. Völuspá hin skamma, an Old Norse poem, listed out the names of Heimdall's 9 mothers as Angeyja, Atla, Eistla, Eyrgjafa, Gjálp, Greip, Imð(r), Járnsaxa, and Ulfrún, and these have reportedly appeared in a variety of other sources that slightly strengthen the validity of this list. The Nine Daughters of Ægir and Rán, however, have a completely different list of names which are listed multiple times in the Prose Edda: Blóðughadda, Bylgja, Dröfn/Bára, Dúfa, He(f/v)ring, Himinglæva, Hrönn, Kólga, and Uðr/Unn. Again, two very different lists of names.

On top of all of that is the whole idea that when these Norse myths say there are "nine" of something, that it's not necessarily exactly 9, but just "a bunch." Like how sometimes we would say "a dozen" even if what we're talking about doesn't necessarily come in 12. So we don't even know if it's specifically 9 mothers.

All of this is to say, uh. Shit's fucked, bro? I don't think this'll ever get a real answer unfortunately so white boy is just gonna stay uncategorized I guess

Heimdall was also submitted by @an-actual-literal-egg. Thank you both for your submissions!

[jillflame]

LACKADAISY ENDGAME PREDICTION

So before we start, BE WARNED OF SPOILERS!!! I'll be drawing from a lot of different panels and bonus material, so if you would like to avoid spoilers for the comic and bonus stuff, go read everything on the Lackadaisy official website (seriously go read it its amazing) and then come right back here!

To begin, I've been in the mood for some Lackadaisy theories.

Mostly concerning the fun scavenger-hunt bonus feature on their website, jocosely titled "Funeral Home".

Everybody who's played around with the feature has figured out that if you put various characters' names into it, you get fed back quotes from the pilot. All except Atlas, who spits back this:

I've seen a lot of theories circulating that Atlas was drowned or that his death was somehow tied to water, but we know that isn't true because we get a glimpse into his death in 'Introduction 2':

Atlas was clearly shot (or stabbed, i guess, but far more likely he was shot given the importance of guns to the Lackadaisy.) But I'm not here to spectate on whether Mordecai and Mitzi killed him... yet

I'm here to talk about how whatever that 'sounds of rushing water' foreshadows is something that could potentially be a large clue into the secrets he kept in conjunction with the Lackadaisy before his death. Whether this secret is tied to how he died, whatever lead to it, or something he left behind for the Lackadaisy, it's likely going to play a large role in the series. I personally think that whatever secret lies guarded by that rushing water (probably alcohol... and lots of it) is going to end up being the key to saving the Lackadaisy when it's at its lowest...and I'm starting to fear that Rocky might end up paying the price for it.

As important as fire and dramatic dynamite explosions are to Rocky's character, he's often associated literarily more with water. The comic really doesn't shy away from highlighting the importance of the Mississippi either. ^This line in Rocky's now pilot-famous poem particularly sticks out to me too. 'Umber Whiskey Waters". It's a line meant to convey the color of the river, but it could also very much be foreshadowing at its finest. "Whiskey Waters."

The importance of Rocky's involvement isn't a mistake either, because another clue that alcohol is being guarded by the famous river could also be drawn from Rocky's own character bio pic.

We can clearly see that he's standing on a barrel with three prominent X's carved into the side. These three Xs, as I've come to find out, confirm that the barrel IS carrying alcohol, and even clue us into the type of alcohol we might be looking at.

I managed to find a useful paragraph from THIS website that states,

"An ‘X’ is also used to record the number of distillations of some alcoholic drinks. With each distillation the alcohol content rises, so the more distillations (or Xs) the stronger the brew, though the Xs on a bottle of whisky or rum do not necessarily indicate the alcohol content."

So each X represents a distillation cycle. Three X's basically mean it's the GOOD STUFF. Today, this can still be seen primarily associated with moonshine-

For those of you who don't know (like I didn't until I fell into this rabbit hole), moonshine is defined as a homemade, un-aged whiskey. It has a clear color, a corn base, a high alcohol content, and it's traditionally bottled in mason jars. (I ripped all of this right from google)

During the prohibition, the demand for moonshine would have risen drastically, but a more important key-phrase to take away from all that is the 'clear color'. Not very 'umber whiskey waters' of it, UNTIL you read about how umber whiskey gets its color.

It absorbs its color by maturing in wooden casks. And this process can take a while. One might even catch his death waiting around that long. HahHAhaAHAHAhahahah

*ahem* Sorry. But, there might be some truth there. Whiskey needs to be matured for a minimum of 3 years, many being matured for far longer than that, and only one year has passed between Atlas's death and the current timeline.

All of this for me just confirms that there's some umber alcohol in those waters, or more probably, tucked away under it. We don't know how long its been there for, or who, besides Atlas himself, might know of its existence, but let's not forget Atlas's VAST stretch of underground tunnels that the Lackadaisy provides access to. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to think that he might have had a tunnel or two filled with maturing whiskey, hidden deep underground, maybe close to the Mississippi... maybe dangerously close. Maybe they're a reckless act away from flooding entirely, spilling their valuable contents into the river... causing lots of destruction....

This might be a bad time to re-remind everybody of Rocky's drowning motif.

eh... im sure he'll be fine...

Furthermore... the article I linked above leaves us on THIS cheery note...

"Other applications for a series of Xs occur within the writing fraternity, whereby a writer completing a manuscript concludes the text with a single line of ‘XXX’ to signify to printers and editors that this is ‘The End.’"

[nat-of-personifs]

A Comprehensive List of Every Personif Thing I’ve Seen, Ever

-A lot of old books, like Common Sense by Thomas Paine, refer to OTJs with she/her. I love them dearly.

-Just google national personifications.

-Welcome to the Table. US Statespirits.

-Meanwhile in Australia. Australian Statespirits.

-Hetalia.

-Countryhumans.

-Scandinavia and the World.

-Paris Burning and associated universe. Cityspirits. I was majorly influenced by this.

-The Great Cities series by N.K. Jemisin, favorite books of all fucking time. The avatar terminology and style of personification fighting basically made it into my canon wholesale. Cityspirits and boroughspirits.

-Living Maps: An Atlas of Cities Personified. Haven’t got it yet but I really want it.

-The Bible, apparently. Cityspirits.

-@mur-art’s addition: Big Wayward Girl. Statespirits. California.

-This old-ass poem has Paris talking. There were a bunch like it, but I couldn’t find translations. I owe my life to JSTOR, and my fountain pens.

-Centricide. Political personifs.

-Polandball/Countryballs.

-Socialstuck, Fandomstuck, and Socialstuck Cloutchase.

-Purge the Poison by MARINA. Mother Nature dissing humanity for climate change in two minutes.

-I Am California by John Craigie.

-@mur-art’s addition: some Statehumans comics.

-@mur-art’s personif playlist

-@mur-art’s addition: Florida’s state song (I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS THING ALREADY OMG)

-@bread--quest’s addition: Sedona by Houndsmouth

-@milokissa707’s addition: Canadian provinces as roommates

-There are a bunch of things on quora; just search something related.

-Nico’s Proposal describes the Administrator like the personif of the Foundation.

-Fall Witness, Part 2. Autumn Court Fae create an artificial personif of the O4 Council. Vanguard tale <3

-SCP-1761. This thing got me into the SCP Wiki in the first place.

-SCP-5513. I do not have words.

[veespee]

MLandersen0 Community Posts

okay, here’s a sort of analysis (?) for the recent Mlandersen0 YouTube community posts, because people should talk more about them AND i need to overanalyze everything; so here ya go.

(this is part 1. there are 6 posts up rn, and this post would be WAY too long if i do all 6. so i’ve divided them to 2 parts, will post the other in a few days probably :) 

first post: Antigonish?

Antigonish is a poem written by William Hughes Mearns, which you can read here. 

I'll just write my interpretation, and how I think it relates to mla0: the poem revolves around a man, who is portrayed as a ghost. The speaker/narrator of the poem is clearly scared of this mysterious ghost man, telling him to “go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!” and “go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door…”. Now, as for the connection to mla0, i have two theories: 1. the ‘ghost’ is Slenderman, and it’s from Michael’s point of view. Which i think makes some sense, as the ghost and Slender also appear and disappear mysteriously, and of course, Michael wants him to go away, and 2. it could be about Michael’s guilt and past getting to him. All the people that are dead because of him and his want to protect himself, are haunting him, and the ghost is metaphorical. These are just theories though, so the meaning could be anything really. 

second post: So it goes?

This one is a song by band ‘Matthew and The Atlas’, you can listen to it here. According to an analysis from this website, the song talks about an entity of sorts, lingering around the speaker’s life since he was young. There’s a theme suggesting that the speaker fears the entity, and has never been able to confront it or get some closure on what it wants (as suggested in the chorus: “Deep below the earth I might have found you, High above the tower I could not see”). Also, according to a comment on the Genius page for this song, the song writer Matt Hegardy, explained that when he was young, he was attacked by a man with a knife, later resulting in bad dreams consisting of a figure standing over him. In my opinion, that’s exactly Michael’s relationship with Slenderman. Slender is an entity, plaguing Michael’s mind with nightmares, and basically ruining Michael’s life completely, but he never gets the chance to confront Slenderman, and get the closure he needs. So he’s stuck, being miserable and feeding people to Slenderman, without even knowing why. (also, now that i think about it, this could also be about Patrick. but i’m leaning towards Slenderman)

third post: And they call me a throwback when I cry, “Remember?”

The title is a lyric from the song below, Old Tyme Mem’ry by Erik Petersen. Now, the song’s overall meaning is nostalgia on vintage ways of living, as the song tells the story of a family who had to sell their farm after the death of the father, and how the new owners of the land have no connection to the land, instead opting for luxury and modernity. (thanks to this site i understood that lol, go check it out for a more in-depth analysis of the song) But in general, the atmosphere of the song is one of nostalgia and reminiscing (which is honestly the theme of all of these posts), and that’s why i’m assuming it’s Michael posting these. He’s reminiscing on the past, where everyone was ‘okay’ (as okay as they can be, at least) and alive, but know he’s alone. All he can really do is reminisce, as he has nothing now, no family, no friends. Really, I think he only has Patrick, who probably isn’t very stable, and Slenderman. 

okay that’s all i could find :) thank you for reading, and for anyone who is too bored to read all that, TL;DR: most of the themes of the songs/poems Dylan/Michael have posted have a theme of haunting/nostalgia. So my theory so far is, Michael is alive and living his life in guilt, reminiscing on the past about all of his wrong doings, and all the people who are dead because of him. He’s lonely, guilt-filled and grieving the life he could’ve had, if only everything was okay.

also!! credits to all the websites i linked, the helped me undestand the meanings of all the songs in depth, so of course, lot's of credits to them.

[fairycosmos]

babe my dad is going to die after having been in a coma for a week due to a suicide attempt and idk what to do i feel numb and then it hits me like a truck like how does one survive this kind of pain it feels like im losing part of myself im never going to hear him laugh and see him happy again i am so sad. do you know any books or poems or movies about grief or losing someone i need to do something with this or ill implode

i'm so so sorry you're going through this. it's one of those things that platitudes and comforting words can barely even put a dent in. there's actually no words at all when it comes to losing someone and it took me ages to truly understand that. i thought something would eventually wake me up from the nightmare, i still do most of the time, but there's nothing else for it but one step in front of the other and collapsing periodically whenever you need to. it's truly a pain like no other and i wish there was a way around it but if there is i haven't found it either. it's only natural that you're feeling this way. the size of the grief is the same size as the love etc etc. i'm going to leave some recommendations below - i'll be thinking of you and your dad and keeping you both in my heart. i'm so sorry. he's shaped you as a person to your core and that means a lot of you is him, you will keep him around. i know it's not the same as him actually being here though. if you need a friend or someone to talk to or anything at all, please message me any time. i hope you have good people around you and all the support you deserve to get through the next week, day, or even minute. i'm sending you so so much love. x

books: crying in h mart by michelle zauner, the year of magical thinking by joan didion, wish you were by jodi picoult, atlas of the heart by brené brown, reasons to stay alive by matt haig, bearing the unbearable by joanne cacciatore, the grieving brain by mary-frances o'connor.

poems: death is nothing at all by henry scott-holland, taking care by callista buchen, do not stand at my grave and weep by mary elizabeth frye, in blackwater woods by mary oliver, separation by w.s merwin, alone by jack gilbert, first morning by joy harjo.

movies: other people, the lovely bones, extremely loud & incredibly close, manchester by the sea, big fish, the goldfinch, p.s i love you, coco, this is where i leave you, three colours: blue.

directory of grief support resources / bereavement and grief self-help guide

[emixion]

Raven HCs part 2 because mmm let me live

This one is canon in the books but she has an insaaaane singing voice. Like for those of you who haven’t read The Unfairest of Them All, even her mom is impressed by her singing.

I feel like in addition to just having a nice voice overall she also has incredible range.

Oh and she ABSOLUTELY has a metal scream. This is very important to me.

Cried during the Attack on Titan finale. (Me too girl)

She doodles a lot on her class work, homework, sheets she uses to jot lyrics or poems down on, etc.

OH YEAH she’s definitely a songwriter/lyricist. Semi canon in The Storybook of Legends when she writes the EAH theme song but still worth a mention.

This is basically fanon at this point but she’s bi. Like I remember that being a thing when the show aired in 2013. Man i’m old..

The most hurtful thing that Apple did to her by far was when she defended her mother to her. She felt like she had no idea who was talking to her in that moment.

Raven’s mom sucks. There’s been contradicting information about how she was as a mother when Raven was little but I without a doubt believe that she was ab*sive.

She is half Japanese (Dad’s side) and half German (Mom’s side)

She’s fluent in Japanese and knows *some* German

Started dyeing her hair when she was 13

Big ATLA enjoyer

[coeurdalene]

cento between the ending and the end

masterlist | ao3

summary: you leave home, desperate to escape the disillusionment. then you meet the avatar. (the rest is history.)

pairing: zuko x fire nation!reader

warning(s): mentions of canon-typical violence i guess?

word count: 2.65k

a/n: this is based off of cameron-awkward rich’s poem “cento between the ending and the end.” it made me think of atla so that’s what this is.

sometimes you don’t die

when you’re supposed to

Chey runs into the camp with his face flushed, his chest heaving, and his eyes burning bright. He’s beaming as he rushes over to where you and Jeong Jeong sit at opposite sides of a Pai Sho board, your mentor’s eagle eyes fixed on the game as he mulls over his options for his next move. He’s grinning as he slams his hands on the table, rattling the Pai Sho tiles and startling you out of your stupor, but failing to disturb Jeong Jeong’s unperturbed state. He’s glowing as he glances back and forth between the two of you with excitement and insuppressible hope—something you haven’t seen (or felt) in a long time. Then four words tumble out of his mouth and you understand why. The Avatar has returned. The gaping hole in your chest shivers and golden eyes light up in the back of your mind—angry, determined, ablaze.

and now i have a choice

(“Do you think he knows?” you ask as Jeong Jeong reaches out to move one of his Pai Sho tiles. “About the Avatar, I mean.” “I think that you don’t need me to answer that question for you and that you won’t figure it out by staying here,” he replies, sage and resolute. “But, let us finish this game first. I have a feeling that I am about to win.” You don’t miss the twinkle in his eye as he places the white lotus tile onto the board—in the center spot—with a soft click.)

repair a world or build

a new one inside my body

He’s standing in the middle of a tiny Earth Kingdom village, clutching an outdated and worn-out map while squinting at and attempting to decipher jumbled scribbles of names of towns and landmarks, when you accidentally bump into him. Tall, tan, topknot, toothy grin. He asks you if there are any towns nearby where he can stock up on food and supplies. You grin back. His name is Sokka from the South Pole, good with directions—when he has a proper map—and great with plans. And a nonbender, but decent with a sword and a master with the boomerang. (“Hold on, a boomerang?” you ask, one eyebrow raised as he pulls out the polished weapon from the sheath on his back, the shiny metal glinting in the sun. “Yeah, is there something wrong with that?” he counters. “No, not really,” you reply, watching as he flips it lightly into the air and as it lands neatly back in his palm. “I’ve just never met anyone who uses a boomerang as a weapon.” He laughs, “Well, I guess that makes me one of a kind, baby.”) Sokka is all sharp angles—outgoing and sarcastic, letting out a loud whoop and clapping you on the shoulder when you flash the blade of a dagger and admit that you don’t bend either. He’s boisterous at times and you quickly learn that his infectious laugh is a common occurrence, paying no attention to the slight hitch in his breath that precedes each fit of hysterics. Later, as you lead him to a bustling harbor town nearby, he introduces you to his little band of travelers. Katara. Smooth lines to complement her brother’s cacophonous nature—kind eyes and a soft smile, long hair braided down her back, calm but resolute—and a waterbender. She’s approachable and easy to talk to, immediately welcoming and easy to befriend. Yet, Katara can be sharp when she wants to be. You take note as she hurls witty insults at Sokka’s navigation skills. Appa and Momo. A flying bison and a winged lemur, two creatures you’ve only ever read about in the dusty books in your father’s library. Momo chitters and flies around you a few times out of curiosity before returning to circle Appa’s head. The bison grunts in your direction and continues to amble forward. And Aang. The Avatar. Wide-eyed, grinning, full of hope. So much so that you feel like you’re dreaming.

a white door opens

As soon as the town comes into sight, Aang and Katara rush ahead—Momo, too—eager to visit the shops and market stalls. Sokka stays behind with you and Appa. He’s quiet for a moment, then the question tumbles out of his mouth. You’re from the Fire Nation, aren’t you? You should have seen it coming from miles away.

into a place queerly brimming

(“It’s been nearly two years since I left. Most of the time, I find myself not wanting to go back.” “But it’s still home,” Sokka adds. “Yeah,” you sigh and swallow the lump in your throat. “It’s still home.”)

gold light so velvet-gold

It’s unexpected, but so sincere. Why don’t you come along with us? You can’t suppress the smile and the feeling of warmth that spreads through your body when you climb up onto Appa’s back. As the flying bison takes off into the sky, you feel the wind around you and something surging—the hole in your chest shrinking and beginning to heal.

it is like the world

hasn’t happened

You can’t push the image out of your head—Yue falling backward, her white-blonde hair pooling in the water and curling around her head like a halo. You remember the tranquility that washed over the princess’s face, the stillness in the air as she fell, and the solemnity as she sank to the bottom. Even though it’s been days, the scene is still as clear and still as haunting. To your left, Sokka laughs at one of Aang’s jokes. This time, you catch onto the slight hitch in his breath. It’s an indication—he’s lost something important and hasn’t yet forgiven himself. (You feel the same way, sometimes.) You wonder what else the war has taken from him. At night, you recall burnt skin warped around an angry eye. A startling clash of red and gold—so vivid, so noble, so hurt. Your shaking hands clutching onto his tear-stained shirt, trembling voice demanding him to come back soon. How quickly soon became a year, then two. Then three. You remember the pervading silence that followed his exile. It’s the same silence that followed Yue’s descent. The war, cruel and unforgiving, hangs overhead.

when i call out

all my friends are there

Toph Beifong is an avalanche of a girl—chaotic, strong, unable to stop once set into motion. It’s no wonder that she and Katara butt heads so quickly. But, she fits in nicely, works well with the group after she and Katara reconcile their differences, and dedicates herself to the cause. At a first glance, Toph is reckless and wild when it comes to earthbending—much like a hotheaded firebender you know. Yet, you have never seen someone push and pull at dirt and stone with as much grace and precision as the tiny blind girl. One night, after you finish describing the constellations in the sky to her, admiring them for their complexity and ineffable beauty, she shares her wisdom with you. You find something, you grab onto it, and you make it uniquely yours. Toph is the friend you always wanted and never had. One brimming with insights and always moving toward some honorable goal, but unafraid to break a few things along the way—rules, walls, bones. One who will listen intently without judging or mocking you when you have something to say—and does exactly that when you let out your pent-up resentment that had been building up for the past few years toward the values you had been raised on. One who you know you can trust. Your little band of travelers doesn’t feel so little anymore and the hole in your chest grows smaller and smaller with each passing day.

everyone we love

is still alive

His hair is grown out. It hangs messily across his forehead, let loose from the neat ponytail he used to tie it into. He looks more relaxed, less uptight, free from everything that forced him to hold his tongue, unafraid of what’s behind his back. His smile feels whole. You like him better this way. It’s a bit comical—meeting him again in a city so far from where you thought he would find comfort in, looking so different from the last time you saw him. (And working in a tea shop, something you never thought he’d ever been willing to do.) Yet, you find him standing in the middle of that small crooked building in Ba Sing Se’s Lower Ring, gracefully pouring tea into a customer’s cup before bidding them a good day and moving on to the next table. It’s no wonder that you almost don’t recognize him. But the familiarity comes flooding back the moment he pulls you into his arms after leading you out into the secluded alleyway behind the teashop. You cry into his chest. Because it’s been so long and I missed you so much. He holds you tighter. Because I’m sorry.

gathered

at the lakeside

Stepping back onto Ember Island’s shores feels surreal. Walking through the front doors of your family home, even more so. Your parents greet you warmly, ask you about your travels, fill you in on what you’ve missed. Your older brother cracks some jokes, punches your shoulder lightly, and tells you he only missed you a bit. He finds you standing on the beach that evening. Your toes buried in the sand, hands in your pockets, a contemplative look on your face. Together, you recall memories of your childhoods. Days spent sitting stiffly in stuffy classrooms with perfect posture and seemingly engaged expressions, attentively listening to lectures about “our nation’s glory.” Hours of military and political history—Sozin, Azulon, and various generals and commanders whose names and accomplishments you could rattle off. (Names and accomplishments that you forced out of your mind the second you stepped foot off Fire Nation soil.) Evenings spent running barefoot on the beach, dancing in the salty breeze with pink clouds and a sunset in the background. Or sparring, him critiquing your skills or you showing off a new technique you learned while your feet sank into the soft sand and some noisy gulls flew overhead. Nights spent angrily whispering at him to shut up and leave you alone because, somehow, he always knew when you were awake when you weren’t supposed to be, always knew where you were hiding in your father’s library, and always knew what—or rather who—was on your mind. When you go quiet, he asks what you’re thinking about. You can’t seem to find the right words.

like constellations

(“Remember when Ruon-Jian asked you out and you responded by punching him in the face?” “Yeah,” you laugh, remembering how the boy had approached you with an atrocious pick-up line and how you had so desperately wanted to wipe the smug grin off his face. “He was an asshole.” Your brother snickers, “Good times.” You echo emptily, “Good times.”)

my honeyed kin

Ba Sing Se falls overnight. The news comes in the form of your brother bursting through the doors of your father’s library, where you’re sitting peacefully in an armchair and paging through a book about stars and other celestial objects. When you look up, you’re met with a frown, eyes wavering—strained, a little bit scared. It doesn’t take you long to figure out that there’s something wrong. A letter from Azula follows and, two days later, you’re within the concentric stone walls again. You know you should let Zuko be. Let him wallow. Give him space to mourn. But Azula smirks and lets slip the shred of knowledge that gives her the upper hand. She’s seen glimpses—sunlight glinting off the blades of your daggers, blurs of the hair ribbons you always wear. Traitor.

honeyed light

The air surrounding the top deck is cold and stiff and bitter on the ship ride home, but it’s where he is, so you stay—your head resting against his shoulder, his arm around your waist. You ask him if he finds it strange to be going home after so many years away. When he doesn’t respond, you turn your gaze up to his face and find him staring out into the distance, expression blank, mouth set in a firm line. But, his eyes look so lost and he feels so far away. The hole in your chest begins to widen again.

beneath the sky

a garden blue stalks

white buds

(Ozai raises his fist. Iroh covers your eyes. “No one should have to witness something so terrible,” he tells you afterward. Something inside you shifts out of place.)

the moon’s

marble glow

You left to chase after a boy. Azula stands with her hands on her hips, looking proud of her comment. She wants you to stand up and yell back at her, prove her wrong—and she is wrong. Azula is wrong. You left because you wanted to, because you were tired, because everything you had been told was a lie. And it wasn’t Zuko’s banishment that had shown you that. Those seeds were planted years before, nurtured over the summers you spent away from home honing your skills with shiny silver knives, watered with your sweat and incessant curiosity. (“More like nosiness,” your brother would have called it.) Soon, they sprouted, stretched their roots and tied themselves down, resisting any deweeding from indoctrination attempts during the school years. Seeing Zuko, with a bandage over his eye and his shoulders slumped and his entire being so broken only gave them more room to grow. And they grew. Tendrils curling and suffocating the sickly-sweet praises of the nation’s magnificence and grandeur (and lies). Roots digging deeper until the only thing burning through you when you thought of the nation you grew up in was resentment and hatred and every other ugly feeling that made you sick to your stomach. And so, you left. Azula is wrong. But, you’re tired of fighting her. So you smile politely, in the way you’ve been taught to. Maybe I did.

the fire

distant and flickering

The air feels drier and hotter with each passing day. It’s unsettling and sets off something within you—makes you wonder what it’s leading up to and if there’s a storm on its way. At night, when Zuko stands with you on your balcony—the two of you leaning against the railing, shoulders touching, gazing at the navy blue expanse of sky—you fall into him, searching for the comfort of his arms. Because something’s coming and I don’t think it’s good. He holds you closer. Hands gripping your waist, fingers laced tightly with yours like he’s afraid you’ll slip through the cracks and fall away from him. Because I feel it, too. You receive a small package and a letter from Piandao the next day. (“Your friend Sokka is a fine swordsman,” it reads. “He is a very good student, asks a lot of questions, and is somewhat unconventional. He reminded me a bit of you.”) Something at the bottom of the letter, scribbled in the corner, catches your eye. He’s alive. You open up the package and a Pai Sho tile falls into your palm, the white lotus engraved on its face.

the body whole bright-

winged brimming

Toph and Sokka and Suki and you. (And Katara and Zuko and Aang. Where are they?) Red. Glaring brightness. Body sore. On the verge of breaking. A ringing in your ears. The smell of something burning. You can’t remember anything else.

with the hours

of the day

(Funnily enough, you’ve never felt more whole.)

beautiful

nameless planet

Afterward, he kisses you hard. Urgent, but sweet, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. Because I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t make it out with you by my side. You kiss him back. Soft and delicate, hands resting against his chest. Because I love you, too.

oh

friends, my friends—

bloom how you must, wild

until we are free.

[randomasstalkingdeer]

UM JUST A DISCLAIMER BEFORE THIS INITIAL INTRO POST-we are currently very hyper fixated on the show Only Murders In The Building and just started season three so no spoilers but this show is consuming my life right now so it will probably also consume this blog thank you

PLEASE TALK TO US ABOUT OMITB

our meet the artist/artists, I suppose. idk, its kinda us as a whole

Heyyyyyy!! Welcome to our blog. You can call us Rat or Atlas collectively. I am the host, Rat, and our system is called the Atlas system or Atlas' system. We have three definitive alters other than me, the host, and his name is Lennon (he uses he/they it prns) (he's not fronting rn so I'm just going to leave a space below for him to write his intro). We also have 2 littles called Eva and Riko who usually if not always front together.

Lennon's intro:

Eva and Rikos Intro:

We are bodily and collectively minors, so no funny business. 

We go by any/all pronouns collectively, but please don't use she/her too often, or when Lennon is fronting.

We are collectively agender, genderqueer, asexual and aromantic, and we have a few alters that are boyflux and/or non-binary, and I think we might have one girl but she's little and has yet to front

here is the post about our plurality

we are collectively therians, fictionkin, objectkin, and otherkin. 

Our ‘types:

A deer/wolf hybrid called Kinny (he/they) who has a wolf body, tail, ears and front or back paws (not sure which ones, I think they change) and deer antlers, head shape, and front/back hooves and can shapeshift into a humanoid creature with antlers and a wolf tail and elf-ish ears. He also has the ability to fly and the ability to change his size at will. 

A cat whose name I do not know, but it is either Stella, Mariella, Maribel/Maribelle or Nora (she/her). She is a silky black cat and can shapeshift into a witch with no animalistic qualities and she has the ability to change her age at will. 

dollkin

puppetkin

ratkin

QUESTIONING:

foxkin/a fox theriotype

I am also an artist and will occasionally be posting artwork on here. Mostly, though, this blog will be for our experiences as a closeted therian & agender system. Also random therian and gay stuff. And poems. Occasionally. And random stuff we think of. 

We'll probably be posting pretty often, and we'll let y’all know if that changes. 

JSYK:

We do swear occasionally but otherwise we're completely safe for minors which is good because I am a minor

We don’t respond to hate unless it’s especially funny

And our moots are awesome, love you guys❤️❤️🦌🐺🐈‍⬛

DNI: 

General assholes

any explicitly NSFW blogs- a few 18+ things are okay but DNI if your blog is completely NSFW 

ANY QUEERPHOBES(e.g. homophobes, transphobes, biphobes, aphobes-that’s aro and/or ace phobes) WILL BE BLOCKED

ANY ANTI-THERIANS/ANTI-ALTERHUMANS WILL BE BLOCKED

Zo0ph!les are not tolerated or accepted. Please go see a doctor. 

P3doph!les are not tolerated or accepted. Please go see a doctor. 

However, recovering/recovered zo0s are completely welcome. 

FURRIES≠THERIANS

THERIANS≠ZO0S

FURRIES≠ZO0s

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. 

We are very likely autistic but have not been diagnosed because we do not have a therapist even though we NEED ONE.

we, as a system, do not support the use of lesbian within m-spec communities but there’s no hate here, and you are still welcome have done our research on lesboys and the use of lesbian in m-spec communities, and apologize for our ignorance. We did not do any research at the time of writing this post and henceforth just did not understand the concept. We hope you feel welcome here.

we have a couple very strong opinions that we will not be debating anyone about. Opinions are just that. You can have your own and we can have ours. Just don’t try to convince us that that you are right. we will not do that, we will just let you know that this is what we believe. Here’s an example:

Omnisexuals do not equal pansexuals with preferences. Having no preference and not caring the gender of the person you are attracted to are two different things. Pansexuals can have preferences. For example, if you’re pansexual and you have a preference for women, and you see someone who you’re attracted to, and you talk to them and they say “oh yeah, I’m not actually a woman, I’m non binary”, you wouldn’t care, you’d still be attracted to them. Whereas if you were omnisexual and they told you they weren’t actually a woman, you might not be attracted to them anymore. This comes from a person who used to identify as panromantic with a preference for women. I have since realized I was aromantic, but I still have these opinions. DNI if you are going to try and debate me about this. 

userboxes by @kthecritter

here is a link to the post we made about opening requests for therian line art: https://www.tumblr.com/feethetalkingdeer/757851513949405184/attention-please?source=share

I think that’s it!!!

If you made it here, take this: 🏳️‍🌈 pride flag for you ❤️❤️

Oky byee! We hope to see you again soon!

oh and here’s my pronouns.cc if you’d like it:

(I've removed this link temporarily cause its under construction) (I'm making changes to the names and stuff that's on there)

[catastrxblues]

INTRODUCTION !!

currently shadowbanned which means i can't interact in ANY way at all through this blog so sorry if you replied to my posts or mentioned me and i haven't responded 😭

“our sheer capacity for a feeling has got to be so unwieldy that we staggered under it, like atlas with the weight of the world.” — oliver marks, if we were villains.

palestine : masterlist | to help | thepalestineacademy | boycott | free palestine

⛧ okay so hi! i’m nadine. she/her. muslim. student. apparently an isfj. virgo. afternoons enthusiast. #1 full machine by gracie abrams enjoyer. think about everlark a lot.

┏ i like to read, watch, and sometimes write. but nowadays i really just prefer rotting and decaying on my bed because school is absolutely exhausting and i have no better idea than to use all my spare time for simply sleeping.

┏ STEM at heart, but sometimes all i really want to spend the rest of my life doing is reading, pondering over poems, learning to bake, crying over songs, writing in an immense amount and is good at it, working at a bookshop, collecting so many books that i have sagging bookshelves on the walls of my room, watching the moon, examining the stars, and enjoying the afternoon sun in a meadow or hills or somewhere with running creeks and flowers (but that's unrealistic so)

┏ i come on here to reblog, read fanfics, and rant about my obsessions (and also my life so sometimes this actually does feel like my little messy personal diary- that's a warning by the way)

──────────────────────•

-> currently reading : the ballad of songbirds and snakes by suzanne collins, six of crows by leigh bardugo,

-> currently watching : gilmore girls s2, brooklyn nine-nine s1, the summer i turned pretty,

-> some favorites :

(books) the hunger games, percy jackson / riordanverse, a good girl’s guide to murder, hp & the marauders, nevermoor, if we were villains, anne of green gables, djats & tshoeh, keeper of the lost cities

(artists) taylor swift, gracie abrams, phoebe bridgers, lorde, conan gray, sabrina carpenter, olivia rodrigo, maisie peters

(movies) mcu, romcoms, little women, thg adaptations, legally blonde, clueless, bridge to terabithia, lady bird, barbie, heathers, before sunrise

(tv shows) bridgerton, stranger things, heartstopper, jatp, asoue (show), disney channel shit (both), alexa and katie, nhie, lost in space (2017)

*(the italic ones are the ones i currently actively (and sometimes intensely) hyperfixate on on this blog!)

(+) fictional characters

[ i also will like to add that i am a peeta mellark, katniss everdeen, percy jackson, annabeth chase, anne shirley, jo and amy march, pippa fitz-amobi, and ravi singh enthusiast & i will defend them to the end of the earth thank you <3 ]

──────────────────────•

sideblogs & others

┏ i have a writing blog!! (@kitchentablebillsaredue) it’s not exactly a fanfic blog, just a blog to post all of my miscellaneous semi-personal mess <3 (it’s collecting dust right now because i didn’t realize how hard it will be to get myself to post some writings on even a small corner of the internet whoops)

┏ i created another (actual) sideblog because i was bored and i thought why not. it’s @andillwatchh (as in a reference to that famous little women 2019 scene) and it’s for some movies/shows insanity etc.

┏ another one thank you. @iborrowlibrarybooks mostly for bookish things & moodboards.

by no means this is a consistent fandom blog by the way, i'm just really annoying and can't stop talking. but yeah that's it!

[scatteredthoughts2]

Lift You Up by Mr. PoetAll

If I were the world

Would you be my Atlas

A titan not afraid to hold the barriers

Of boundaries

Between

Gritted teeth and silly giggles of

Deafening challenges

Like I wish you would try me

A little harder.

This dare is the truth

I plead not to plead the fifth

On you.

So if the world crumbles

Under your arms

I will always

Be there

To catch

The weight of burdens

That clouds cannot even hold.

For they to

Cry.

Raining pain that only space

Will fill.

Can we not

Talk about

The times

You shattered me.

Instead

Let us divulge upon

The areas of gray

Yet

Unfulfilled.

Just as the waters

Have not all been claimed

The gripping tips of my fingers

Will n'er refrain

From restraining

Myself

From saving

You.

Thank you so much.

Inspired by your last poem title that I read and fell in love with the thought of ETERNAL LOVE / ENDLESS LOVE.

You are and will always be a great poet and inspiration to me.

Thank you @scatteredthoughts2

[ilovedthestars]

Hello!

Hi! I'm Stars, or lovedthestars, or variations thereof. My pronouns are she/her/hers. If you think you recognize me from the Murderbot discord server, yep, that's me! If not, hello!

As my username suggests, I love the stars (but also, it's from a poem: The Old Astronomer by Sarah Williams). I make lots of art, but I only share the occasional fandom piece on here. I also write, mostly Murderbot fanfic at the moment. My ao3 is i_have_loved_the_stars_too_fondly if you’d like to go see what I’ve written! I have so many unfinished wips it’s not even funny, and I ramble about them sometimes. If you ever want to ask me about something I wrote/am writing, please do, I will be very excited to talk about it! I’m happy to get asks in general, and I love ask games & tag games. Please feel free to drop into my inbox and say hi.

Things I reblog fairly consistently: Murderbot fanworks, space photos, cool art, poetry, reference materials and tips for art & writing, queer stuff (especially aro & ace-spec focused)

Things I reblog on occasion: Fun polls, other people’s short fiction, book recs, posts that make me feel good about humanity, and assorted other fandoms (A smattering of examples: Discworld, Rolling with Difficulty, Witch King, ATLA, Temeraire)

I don’t make a lot of original posts but here’s a list of tags you can use to find my art, fic & other stuff I talk about:

stars rambles (casual/stream of consciousness)

stars has thoughts (more coherent thoughts/opinions)

stars art

stars fic

stars wips

stars OCs

stars answers / ask game answers

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

Thank you for writing for Lackadaisy. You’re the only one I’ve found so far.

Could you do Reader being Atlas’s sibling and Mitzi’s in law deciding to help her with the speakeasy since they have a sibling like relationship with her? Absinthe or one shot dealer’s choice if you decide to.

Atlas’ death was a major blow for everyone. Y/N was no different, being his sibling. It was a wonder they were out of the house as early as they were.

However, someone had to make sure Mitzi was making it okay. She was infatuated with the tomcat, regardless of whether or not their marriage was on the rocks at the time. That was their story, anyway, and they were sticking to it.

Y/N and Mitzi meet about three weeks into her time dating Atlas. They hit it off almost immediately. Mitzi was a good sweet-talker, but Y/N grew up with Atlas and knew when someone was trying to worm their way in and when to slam the door on them. Manipulating Y/N was not going to happen, but it was fun watching Mitzi tried until she clued in that this cat was just as sharp as their brother.

Their relationship only flourished from there. Mitzi dropped the act a little bit and opened up to them, the nights she wasn’t with Atlas or the band she spent with Y/N and the two were seen as thick as thieves. Needless to say, Y/N barely hesitated to give Mitzi their blessing to marry their brother.

They were also a regular at the Lackadaisy speakeasy. They hung out with Ivy as her kittensitter, they attempted to talk to Mordecai, they helped run the bar if need be and found new hire Rocky to be hysterical. Atlas had a beautiful queen cat on his arm, a sibling watching his family’s back, an empire running booze like water and a legacy that seemed like it would never end.

And then he died, and it almost all went up in smoke.

Rocky and Y/N had to be Mitzi’s rock for a little while, although she was likely reluctant to tell them. Y/N stepped up to run things when it overwhelmed her and we all know what Rocky got up to. In their own ways, it helped more than she wants to admit.

Y/N paid for Atlas’ funeral, Rocky ran things while she was away. Y/N came over on the nights Mitzi couldn’t sleep, Rocky made up bombastic poems to make her smile. Y/N helped pay for things when money started running low, Rocky took up rumrunning to keep bringing money in. Every little thing either one could think of, they went out of their way to do it.

In return, Mitzi gave Y/N a job when they wound up losing theirs and gave Rocky a concrete place to stay, at least for now. Lady fortune finally seemed to smile on the little ragtag family of five (later six when Freckle was roped in).

When Wick entered the picture and Mitzi started showing interest, Y/N was all for it. Mitzi had never let herself go, but she was clearly preening more often now that there was another cat that caught her eye. If money wasn't an issue Y/N would suggest Mitzi take things a step further and fully go out with him–not just on one random adventure that ends in a kiss, but a full-out date.

Rocky’s extreme distaste for Wick is the first crack in their friendship. Y/N doesn’t see anything wrong with him: he’s kind to Mitzi, he’s sweet to everyone around him, he likes Y/N and seems to genuinely love Mitzi. Still, the crack is enough for them to keep quiet and not rock the boat and Rocky never elaborates on his distate's foundation.

It stays like that for a little while. Rocky and Y/N kinda-sorta-but-not-really walking on eggshells around each other whenever Wick gets brought up in conversation, Y/N running things in the background, Mitzi putting more and more trust into them. Maybe one day she’ll tell them just what exactly happened to their brother, since all anyone ever told them was that he was dead.

Does their relationship get better or worse with passing events? I’ll leave that up to your interpretation.

[jeanmoreaux]

*✧ — january 2024 wrap up

i truly had a reading journey this month; peaks and valleys. a mixed bag for sure. i mean olivie blake made the list with a new favourite AND the first one star of the year. at least schwab delivered with TFToP!!! it was So. Good. like. So So Good. other than that i really do not have much to say. i am currently rereading aftg so. you know. head empty.

2024 goal: 25/100 books

as alway, feel free to drop book recs, questions, or opinions in my inbox; i am always happy to talk to you about books!

* –> newly added to my favorites shelf

follow my goodreads | follow my storygraph  | previous wrap ups

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

A Power Unbound by Freya Marske | 3.5★

Monsters: A Fan's Dilemma by Claire Dederer | 3.5★

She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan | 4★ | review

Almond by Sohn Won-Pyung (transl. by Sandy Joosun Lee) | 4.5★

The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna | 3★

Penguin's Poems For Love (edited by Laura Barber) | 5★

The Curse of Saints by Kate Dramis | 3.5★ | review

Shanghai Immortal by A.Y. Chao | 2★

A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid | 3★

* Masters of Death by Olivie Blake | 4.75★ | review

Dream Work by Mary Oliver | 5★ | comment

The Ghost Bride by Yangsze Choo | 4★

Family Lore by Elizabeth Acevedo | 3★

All About Love: New Visions by bell hooks | 4.5★ | review

The Atlas Complex by Olivie Blake | 1★ | review

* Coriolanus by William Shakespeare | 4.5★ | comment

* The Fragile Threads of Power by V.E. Schwab | 5★ | comment

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

short stories

A Royal Affair by V.E. Schwab

A Life Erased by V.E. Schwab

Sacred Hospitality by Olivie Blake

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

rereads

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab | 4★ | review

A Gathering of Shadows by V.E. Schwab | 5★

A Conjuring of Light by V.E. Schwab | 5★

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake | 3★ | review

The Atlas Paradox by Olivie Blake | 2.5★ | review

The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan | 4.5★

The Sea of Monsters by Rick Riordan | 4.75★ | comment

The Titan's Curse by Rick Riordan | 4.5★ | comment