#because they are FIRST cousins!!!!!

[shummthechumm]

erm i reassigned ivy and dove to be brightcloud kits because this branch of the family tree gets rlly out of control when you dont do that lol

[peach-sea]

Cringetober Day 1. Screenshot Redraw

inspired by this early eah scene where raven "lets her bad side out" playing guitar and my cousin and I go "apple's probably losing it" and then they cut to her and she's making this face ↓

[backpackingspace]

Okay so with the line "the olive tree where we first met" we have two equal hilarious options.

When penelope was sassily like oh I'll marry you if you make a living bed out of this tree right here! Cue penelope stumbling over odysseus very very carefully digging up the tree "because how else is he going to get it to itacha we can't have a wedding bed out in the open in sparta duh"

Or

2. Penelope, knowing that Helen's suitors would soon be arriving to take over her home for a while. Snuck out and went on her own wacky shenanigan filled journey where she scoped out all the major players. Odysseus caught her spying in an olive tree. And when she got back she told Helen she had dibs on the cutie from itacha.

[cygnus-is-tired]

Orthodontist hate him, dentist fear him! It’s NIBBLY!!!

(Unlike Nibbly you aren’t a god so don’t bite hard candy, you can and will fuck up your teeth)

[grumpyghostdoodles]

Poor Peepaw Starlo. They grow up so quickly.

[temerity14]

A night to remember

[mybloodyvampire]

Was just reminded there that the first Buffy ep I ever saw was Something Blue, with zero context for the show or what was going on. Was just sitting there while my cousin watched it. I know the name of the show should've been a giveaway but somehow I didn't get that Spike was a vampire (I missed the beginning) and I thought he was just a very pale rascal who they kept in their house like a mischievous pet. Buffy tells Riley "we fought for years" so I thought he was a fun frenemy guy they kept hostage for years for whatever reason, and that he and Buffy bickered like brother/sister for years which is why everyone thought it's weird they're suddenly kissing (did NOT get that they were supposed to be mortal enemies) also: for some reason I thought Willow, who was sad, had had to kill her ex-partner (she was giving that vibe) and that Giles was staff at some sort of magic academy which is why he was annoyed with her (his student) for neglecting her magical responsibilities. I didn't understand why Willow wasn't allowed to drink beer (I still don't)

[gravekeeperwlijah]

I give y'all, the cousins™

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Thinking of fourth gen Finwëans because it always makes me laugh cause you have like:

Celebrimbor - born YT, killed Second Age

Idril - born YT, left First Age

Maeglin - born and killed in the mid First Age

Finduilas - born and killed in the mid First Age

Gil Galad - born First Age, killed very end of Second Age

Celebrian - born in Second Age, left mid Third Age

Just. The scale of time and experiences for Finwë’s grandchildren vs great grandchildren is wild 😂

Also they should totally have meet ups in Valinor. Elrond’s an honourary member.

But in terms of dynamics:

Celebrimbor + Gil Galad + Celebrian - Second Age besties. Get along like a house on fire to the older Finwëan generations ever increasing concern. Basically if Fëanor, Fingolfin, and Finarfin all got along (but switch some personalities and temperaments between them) and were left to their own devices. Add Elrond and we have the full house.

Finduilas + Celebrian - similar end of ME life experiences and idk. The vibes are there. First Cousins ftw.

Idril + Celebrimbor - Been through so much Rubbish from Fëanor and Fingolfin’s drama to the First Age chaos, they honestly just vibe. No hard feelings on either side. Fill in the younger members on the Family Lore.

Maeglin + Celebrimbor - Tyelpë’s feral adopted pet rat. “I was friends with Sauron, I can deal with this.” Forge buddies. Helping him adjust to society and come to terms with what was Morgoth’s fault and what was Maeglin himself.

Idril + Gil Galad - It weirds them out that they’re first cousins. Gil Galad’s lowkey annoyed that she left without at least saying hi. But he gets it.

Celebrian + Idril + Celebrimbor - Idril and Celebrian love their respective human/half-elf. Celebrimbor misses his mortal friends. They share all the stories.

Finduilas + Gil Galad - “…yeah we could probably be siblings. Also how was it away from the war but dealing with the fallout?”

Finduilas + Celebrimbor - Nargothrond besties. The first and only cousin she met. Finduilas is very much like a little sister to him.

Maeglin + Idril - Have a silent agreement to avoid each other unless others are around.

Maeglin + Celebrian - “What would you know of such matters, child.” “Born later, lived literally thousands of years longer than you, baby cousin.” Co-owns the feral pet rat with Celebrimbor. The only one who can match him word for word, her perceptiveness rivals his ‘sharp glance.’

Finduilas + Maeglin + Gil Galad - “don’t you just love inheriting curses?”

Finduilas + Idril - Architecture. These two come up with entire elaborate but functional plans in less than two hours. Probably built everyone’s houses. Celebrimbor sometimes joins.

Gil Galad + Maeglin - “You actually wanted to be crown prince???” “You didn’t??” “That explains so much.” Not surprised Maeglin got stuck in the family and High King curse. They don’t mind each other’s presence and pretty happily sit doing their own things in a room. Gil Galad’s doing this for Celebrian more than anyone else. AKA the reluctant pet sitter who got dragged into this mess by his best friends.

[hadesisqueer]

I like how Violet is so used to having dramatic ass children that Francesca marrying with no drama was too odd to her lmao. And thinking about how her story will unfold is actually kinda hilarious because it's gonna be like:

Violet: Well, that's it. John is a very good man and Francesca is comfortable and happy with her choice and if this is what she truly wants, it's all that matters💜

Violet: Also, it's kinda refreshing to finally have a normal child that doesn't do any dramatic or scandalous shit.

Francesca a few seasons later after her husband passes: *fucks and falls in love with her husband's cousin -who is a woman-*

Violet:

Violet: Honestly, I should've seen this coming, none of my children will actually ever be normal.

[afurtivecake]

*grumbles grumbles* if neil only gave even a single shit about people's appearances we'd know what colour of clothing kevin likes to wear.

[gingersnaptaff]

who are the main characters in welsh arthurian mythos?

Hi anon! You know, I looked at this question and just fuckin DIED with GLEE! Ehdhdjdhdjd I LOVE SHIT LIKE THIS!!!!! SHDJDJDH

First off, Arthur is pretty big. He's less a king and more of a warlord, but there's still a lot of cultural reverence for him in Welsh things. Seriously, Henry VII - a notable faux-Welshman - named his firstborn son Arthur purely because he was going to be Prince of Wales. Also, in Culhwch and Olwen his retinue has TWO Welsh GODS in it - Manawydan and Pryderi (my beloveds.) Idk what they're doing in it but I am inordinately pleased that they are there.

Also, Uther Pendragon / Uther Ben. Taliesin wrote a poem about him which is super fun. (Also, oddly enough Taliesin himself HAS been linked into Arthurian legends on multiple occasions. He's also another Arthur-type in that he's still regarded as tooling the line between mythical and real.)

Gwenhwyfar is also important even though she takes a back seat. Speculation is rife about whether she had a quest/myth about her (sorta like Culhwch and Olwen) and also her name means 'white phantom!' BRING IT BACK. I, for one, think she definitely did have a quest attributed to her in which Arthur had to do something to get her hand in marriage but idk WHAT.

Also, she's a GIANT!!!!!!!! EJDJDKDKDKD

Gwalchmai is also Super Important. There's speculation as to whether he was a mythical character who got implanted into the mythos or if he was always Atthur's nephew. Basically, he's a giant and he kills giants. Seriously, he's CONSTANTLY killing giants in the mythos. Plus he is called 'Gwalchmai Golden / Silver-tongued' in poetry too. In the Mabinogion, he's very often the one to soothe discord between the other knights so he's very diplomatic too.

Cai and Bedwyr, obviously! They come as a pair. Do Not Separate. Now, Cai is sometimes also seen to be a giant but his dad is Cynyr Ceinfarfog who was a real king. He ruled Dyfed and was the dad of Saint Non and, therefore, grandad to SAINT DAVID. (Wales' patron saint!) So Cai, like Arthur, has a saintly lineage. Before the French Romances shifted his character into the more recognisable Kay, Arthur's grumpy seneschal, Cai was a warrior of great renown. And literally superhuman. Like, nobody would received from.a blow from his sword, he could brave fire and water like nobody else, he has the ability to go nine nights and days without sleep or the need to breathe. He's a ledge.

Now, Bedwyr! Again he's a great warrior and ONE-ARMED. He's called Bedwyr Bedrydant (Bedwyr of the Perfect Sinew) and he's HOT SHIT. Seriously, he's like the most beautiful Knight in Arthur's court. The 10th-century poem 'pa gur' says that assailants 'fell by the hundred / before Bedwyr of the Perfect sinew ... fighting with Garwlwyd/ furious with sword and shield.' (Also, BTW Garwlwyd is possibly a werewolf.)

They have to put up with SO MUCH SHIT from Arthur's escapades it's ridiculous. They had to convince Arthur not to intervene in a King abducting a princess and carrying her back to his court, ffs. Give them a HOLIDAY. WITH SALMON TAXIS.

Now, I would say Merlin BUT he is added later into the mythology. He isn't there straight off. But he is Welsh. He's FUN. He was apparently based on Myrddin Wyllt. He went mad, and lived in a forest. His bestie was a king who died.

Now, I also think Owain, and Geraint on account of their having stories written about them but they're two kings who got folded into the mythos a bit later. Urien (Owain's dad) is another example.

Also, Macsen Wledig too. But again writers melded him in later. And I mean this in the sense that he and Arthur share similarities in how they're perceived in Welsh culture.

Anyways, anon, I hope this helps. I'm probably forgetting a TONNE of characters (Peredur, for one.) But I Don't want to bore you or make anybody trawl through this unwillingly so I shall stop! Hopefully, this helps! Thank u for the question!!!!

[lilithofpenandbook]

Dumbledore: Oh, fiddlesticks! This really ruffles my feathers!

Severus: Please, just say fuck!

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

fág slán leis an dúshlán a bhí againn an mhí seo mar go dtí seo, i'm on the upside of the sea-saw 🎵

say goodbye to the challenges we have had this month, because so far i’m on the upside of the sea-saw

[marlynnofmany]

Not Special, Part Two

(Part One is here)

Oscar Tennyson grabbed his purchases and hurried after the rest of his crew. As usual, they were walking quickly on their longer legs and bellowing for him to keep up. The teeth-and-scales Mighty had no patience for human weaknesses. Of which there were many.

But, as Oscar had just learned, there were some strengths as well. And he couldn’t wait to show them.

He scampered onboard before the door shut, wondering if they would actually leave without him if he dawdled too long. Probably not — who would handle their finances and hunting permits? They’d have to hire someone else, because they certainly didn’t want to do it themselves. But he didn’t want to test that.

He had much better things to test. While the stark metal walls vibrated with the engine’s revs, Oscar wove between scaled biceps and tails to his own quarters. He pressed the panel by the door, which was oversized and cracked like all of them on this ship. The Mighty were not fans of fiddly little buttons or keys. Not when they could have panels big enough to punch, which only broke sometimes.

When Oscar stepped through and closed the door behind him, he felt immediately relieved. This was his private space to decorate as he chose, without worrying that someone would take things down or make fun of him. Ship rules were clear about personal quarters. Oscar’s fake orchids and real cactus made the room homey, along with more posters than the walls could hold. They spilled onto the ceiling, lining it with nature scenes from Earth, sports figures he admired, media announcements, and a good number of fluffy kittens. This was the one spot on the ship where he could feel comfortable, and he was making the most of it.

The bag of refueling station supplies crinkled as he set it on his small table to remove the contents. A high-end store might have had Waterwill bags that evaporated after a day, but this place used regular old plastic. Inside were food cubes, bottled water, and the purchase he was most excited about: six cans of very weak caffeine.

He scanned the label. It was just like the other human had said. Tall cans in dramatic colors, but not much of substance inside. At least, not as far as the average human was concerned.

Oscar couldn’t wait until dinner time.

Before then, he had a permit to submit and several other things to check. The ship should be on the way to Argosha, which was notorious for welcoming outsiders in to hunt the Dagger Birds that were giving everyone so much trouble, but he had better get their paperwork in order anyway.

He grabbed his tablet and left his safe haven, heading back into the public parts of the ship where he could face taunts from any direction. Really, these guys were just like his cousins. At least it was familiar.

Fending off tiresome conversation — “How’s the weather down there?” “Why don’t you ask your mother?” —he reached the bridge and found a corner to stand in. The captain and the pilot were arguing about where to land when they reached Argosha.

“The main site will have more people to admire our ship!”

“The new one is closer to the hunting grounds!”

“Dagger Birds are overrunning the place; everywhere is a hunting ground!”

“Do you want to pay the damages for shooting a building instead of a bird? We can take it all out of your pay, if you want!”

“Fine, but if we land on some overgrown hedge and the ship is scratched, you get to pay for that!”

“Fine!”

The pair of them stopped yelling and sat back in their seats as if nothing at all was the matter, because it wasn’t. Polite disagreements were always held at that volume.

In the brief lull while the pilot manipulated the controls with more force than a lesser console could withstand, Oscar spoke up. “I’d like to come too.”

Both dinosaurian heads turned to stare at him in surprise. “Why?” the captain demanded. “One kick from a bird, and you’re useless to us.”

“Thanks,” Oscar said flatly. “I’ll keep out of the way. I want to take photos of your fighting prowess; I should be able to sell them.”

Both of the Mighty preened at that, as he’d known they would. Ego was big here. The captain agreed, and Oscar didn’t let slip any hints of his secret plan. He just finished working on his tablet, then retreated to his quarters to practice Dagger Bird mating calls.

The air on Argosha was breathable but hot, at least this part of it. Oscar was ready with his Tool in his pocket. (He’d gotten out of the habit of calling it a phone, since the Mighty were right in that it did a near-infinite number of things.) (He still smirked quietly at the potential innuendo, but it was a conversation he didn’t really want to have with giant dinosaur aliens, so he kept that to himself.)

“This way,” announced the captain, pointing in what looked like an arbitrary direction into the wilderness. Whooping with the alien equivalent of testosterone, the crew raised their blasters and tromped off the landing pad with Oscar following close behind.

True to his word, he did take some pictures as he went. But he was waiting for his moment.

It didn’t take long to come. The shouting scared off all the wildlife, then the Mighty found a boulder to crouch behind and wait for the creatures to come back. They played a silent counting game to see who was best at guessing when they’d spot something worth killing.

Distant footsteps on leaves made them smack each other in excitement, but nothing appeared between the trees.

Now or never, Oscar thought. Knowing better than to startled his crewmates, he whispered, “Here, let me.” Then he took a deep breath and let loose with his best imitation of a Dagger Bird seeking a mate. “Woarrrrrrk!”

While the Mighty shushed him and wondered what he was doing and started to figure it out, an answering woarrk sounded from nearby.

Then another, then, three.

Oscar wondered if he’d overplayed his hand.

No less than five large and eager Dagger Birds crashed through the undergrowth at once, croaking and flapping, taking offense at each other’s presence. The Mighty all roared and leapt out, firing in every direction.

Oscar dashed for a tree he’d been eyeing, the one with lots of branches, and didn’t stop climbing until he was out of beak-stabbing range. He held tight to the trunk, catching his breath and watching the chaos. Belatedly, he remembered to take out his Tool and snap some photos.

This was actually a good angle. He got a great shot of the captain aiming down the throat of a wide-open beak, then another a split second later when the beak snapped shut inches from his head. Another of the engineer shooting one from beneath. Two of the pilot tackling the largest bird and sinking teeth into the back of its neck where it couldn’t reach to stab.

Other species did their trophy hunting from a distance. The Mighty liked the fight as much as the kill. Their blasters were set on a deliberately low setting, and their teeth were sharp.

Safe up in his tree, Oscar grimaced at how bloody things were getting down below. He yelled another bird call to distract the one about to spear the crewmate who’d been knocked to the ground, and he got a cheerful “Nice save by the little guy!” which was as close to a thank you as he was going to get. The crewmate scrambled up and bit off a chunk while the bird was distracted. A couple of the crew looked like they were bleeding their own blood, but most of it was coming from the Dagger Birds, which were just as stubborn as the stories had said. Not one of them ran off. The last to die fell on top of somebody, which just added laughter from the rest of the crew to the triumphant cheers.

Oscar took a picture of the bird being dragged off his disgraced crewmate. That photo he wouldn’t sell, but would keep as minor blackmail if he ever needed it. Sticking it up on the wall to remind everyone of this moment could be a valuable strategic move.

“We are the MIGHTY!” bellowed the captain, and the whole crew joined in with a deep-voiced cheer. Oscar climbed down to more approval than he’d gotten in the last month.

“Good work by our human here! Who knew you could do that?”

“That’s sure an efficient way to hunt!”

“We should bring you out every time. That was great.”

Oscar took the praise with pride, not bothering with modesty. That was just another word for weakness as far as these guys were concerned.

He managed to dodge when one of them made to slap him on the back with a large bloodstained hand, which just made them laugh more. Luckily the captain directed everybody to gather their kills for dragging back to the ship, rather than chasing the human and messing up his clothes.

Oscar took a position on the lowest branch of his tree, taking a couple more photos as the victorious hunters figured out how to get it all home. If anyone had asked Oscar, which they never would, he’d have suggested going back for a hovercart, or taking them one at a time. But of course they did neither.

Definitely the type to insist on carrying all the groceries in at once, Oscar thought as his crewmates strained to drag the giant carcasses through the undergrowth. He hopped down and kept pace out to the side where there was no blood on the leaves.

They finally made it back to the ship, doing nothing to clean up the smears of blood they left on the landing pad. Oscar darted off to his quarters as soon as the door opened. The rest of them could handle getting the birds into cryo storage, or chopped up right away, whichever they saw fit to do. The lowest-ranking one without significant injuries would be in charge of clearing the blood from the hallways, but only after they’d all taken a walk through the water-and-air blast chamber that passed for a shower here. It had always reminded Oscar of a car wash.

He kept to himself until dinner, sorting his photos while everyone else dealt with the catch and the mess and the injuries. The mechanical medsystem on this ship was just as efficient as the shower. They’d all be in decent shape by mealtime.

And mealtime after a successful hunt was also drinking time.

Oscar usually ate in his room, wanting nothing to do with the raucous meat-tearing and drunkenness. But today was different, because he’d learned something valuable about the liquid they were getting drunk off.

Oscar considered the cans he’d bought, then decided it would have more of an impact if he just took one of the communal supply. So instead he grabbed his new food cubes and a premade tin of spaghetti from his mini-cryo, and followed the sound of laughter.

They were already a little drunk when he got there. Sprawled across chairs with a table full of meat slabs spilling over the edges of the plates. And as expected, there were tall purple cans everywhere.

“Heyyyy, it’s the little guy! Let’s hear it for the human with the surprise talent! Maybe you’re not useless after all!”

“Thanks,” Oscar said as they pounded fists against anything in reach as a form of applause. He leaned against the open doorway and shuffled his belongings so he could get a fork in a meatball without setting down the food cubes. “That was pretty easy where I’m from. You guys really can’t do that?” He popped the meatball into his mouth, casual as you please.

The Mighty of course, thought this was funny, and took it in stride. More gulps from their drinks, more savage mouthfuls of food, and a few questions about the surely-excellent photos he’d gotten, which would make them all look amazing.

Oscar said he’d share the best ones. These would make fine decorations in their own quarters, and would probably be appreciated by the right paying audience.

Then came the moment he’d been waiting for. The captain raised his drink in another cheer, and somebody noticed that the human was the only one without a can in his hand.

“Get the human a warrior’s drink!”

“Bet you he passes out after one sip.”

“Nah, he can take at least two.”

Oscar smiled quietly. If they’d been paying attention, they might have changed their bets at that smile. He set his food down in the hallway to free his hands. When one muscular, taloned arm offered him a can of their most potent intoxicant, he took it. Oh so casually.

Then he whipped his head back and chugged the whole thing.

“Oh! Human’s gonna die!”

“I’m not cleaning up the puke!”

“What the supernova! There are better ways to go than that!”

“Somebody drag him to medical so we don’t have to find somebody else to do the boring stuff.”

“Yeah, he was just getting interesting.”

Oscar ignored all of them, giving the empty can a thoughtful look. It felt like the same thin aluminum he remembered from Earth. And if there was anything his cousins had taught him, it was the proper way to dispose of a beer can.

He dug his fingertips in and crushed it against his forehead. Then while the room reacted to that, he wiped off the drips and threw the can across the room. When it went into the trash on the first try, he was internally very glad, but he didn’t let it show. Instead he picked up his food and resumed eating. “What’s the big deal?” he said. “Is that what you guys have been getting drunk off? How quaint.”

“How in all the black holes—”

“No, he’s gonna fall over any second; just watch.”

“Quaint, that’s hilarious.”

“He’s totally bluffing. Just wait and see.”

Oscar was enjoying being the center of the crew’s attention today. He made a show of sweeping his eyes across the various cans in the room. “None of you has finished a can yet, I see. Was that supposed to be strong?”

There was widespread laughing and elbowing of each other, most of them still clearly convinced that the silly little human was going to throw up and die any second now.

So Oscar set down his food, walked over to the table, and chugged a second one. It was a bit more liquid than his stomach was really happy with, but that was a small price to pay for the uproar that followed.

They exclaimed; they renewed their bets; they drank from their own cans; they got visibly drunker and abandoned their bets.

Oscar leaned against the doorframe, eating spaghetti and food cubes.

After one particularly unsteady crewmate tripped onto the table full of meat, and someone pointed out that the human wasn’t wobbling at all, Oscar said, “You guys don’t know much about my species, do you? Half of what I eat would liquify your insides.” He held up a food cube, eyeing the different colored specks of all the ingredients that made it balanced for an omnivorous digestive system. He laughed. “You guys just eat meat. How boring!”

They only got drunker after that. Oscar was pretty sure that the nearest two wanted to pat him on the back, but the floor was moving too much for them to make it all the way to the doorway. Somebody offered him a raw slab of Dagger Bird. He turned it down with casual scorn.

“Nah, meat isn’t worth eating unless it’s passed through fire. That’s weakling meat you’ve got there. Get back to me when it’s cooked brown.”

They loved that. The party was an epic one, only winding down when most of the crew was too drunk to reach more drinks. Oscar demonstrated his steadiness by picking through the mess to drop his food containers in the trash, then move back to the door.

“Well, it’s been fun,” he said. “I’ll send in the med-drone to make sure nobody’s going to wake up dead. Let me know if you want to get your tails handed to you by any more Dagger Birds. I’ll call ‘em in close for you again.”

He got groggy approval to that.

Oscar left with a smile on his face, and a mild amount of caffeine in his blood. Maybe after stopping by the medcenter, he’d use that energy on some exercise. Thoughts of the run to the hunting grounds, and the way his crewmates had paced themselves, suggested that it wouldn’t take much practice for him to out-endurance the Mighty on the VR treadmill.

I wonder what else I can do?

~~~~~~~~~

By popular request, this is the sequel to the story I posted last week, which is part of the ongoing series of backstory for the main character in this book. (It started that way, at any rate, and turned into a sprawling series in its own right. Fun stuff.)

Patreon opens the day after tomorrow, on May 1st! There's a free tier and everything if you want to keep up without strings attached! And you can even request more delightful nonsense like this.

Onward!

[anghraine]

For years, I've had a firm policy of nursing my grudge against a fictional character by only tagging Pharazôn as #pharazôn and not #ar-pharazôn and in general trying to always refer to him as Pharazôn alone. Tar-Míriel is the only final monarch of Númenor acknowledged in this house!!

S2 of ROP is not budging me on that point, I've got to say.