#but there are so many other cool(er) things to read

[astral-from-afar]

Leaving the battle shonen bubble to read other types of manga is an experience most battle shonen fans should do at some point

[acuar-io]

Advice on how to achieve aesthetically pleasing gameplay photos!

UPDATED: 4/22/2024

I made this post earlier today and people were interested in the comments! Which made me more excited to make this post~

this is just some advice from me! this isnt a tutorial or anything of that sort, but I will be linking some things that could be helpful for editing gameplay! :D

First things first, I want to say that I use a graphics overhaul, lighting mods check my resources page for what reshade i use if ur interested.

I use these lighting mods & graphics override specifically:

sunblind

graphics overhaul

Lotharihoe's ootd* curseforge download :)

Northern siberia winds in-game better lighting mod (bright base)

these are some other lighting mods you can try out as well!

Luumia's NoBlu & NoGlo

these are some other lighting mods like sunblind

how to install lighting mod

I just wanted to add these things in since we're talking screenshots + I wanted to share for the no reshade ppl <3

Now we can move on to the advice!

I love the simple style of gameplay editing so much, but for me I love creating an ambience with my posts and put the audience inside of my gameplay. I also enjoy storytelling with gameplay more than just the "usual" gameplay post (when it comes to me). I am currently playing the globetrotter challenge with my sim Daichi. I really went all out with the editing for that gameplay. For this one its very much a virtual collage of my sim doing things. Trying new things and getting inspired by others is always fun and cool! Remember when u do take inspo: link to the inspiration and @ the simmer that inspired u!!

In my other save (my cozy save) I also take creative liberties there.

its more of a cozy vibe & silent story-telling (storytelling w/o the dialogue). for my cozy save i take inspiration from @/stellarfalls. er gameplay really helped me find my niche thing in the way i play the game tbh!

Angles/Screenshots

When you're taking your screenshots, angles are important. Depending on the shot, you're putting emphasis on a specific thing. This post is very helpful and talks about different types of angles/shots and what they mean. Check it out especially if you want to play around with the way you take screenshots!

Here’s some editing tips from @stellarfalls !!

simmingstars editing tips

Reshade

If I want to create a moody or dreamy ambience I can use reshade. Looking for a reshade that will fit the overall vibe is a must or you can make your own~

i know not everyone is able to use reshade because they're not on windows. I highly recommend using photoshop actions to create that ambience you're looking for.

*These can be used in photopea, but it cant read topaz clean. If you want to achieve topaz clean in photopea, check this post out! just something i'd like to add in case people are new to all of this + dont use photoshop. Lastly, I want to say if you decide to edit photos on photopea, it does tend to crash if you upload a big number of photos and slows down. I usually upload like 6 or 8 and then save and repeat the process. Its kinda annoying, but ive been using photopea for a while now so im used to it. My mac users, use early-grapes butter action if you want things to look cleaner and less harsh!! + the other ps actions down below. I used these a lot when I was a mac user. Of course, that comes with extra steps, but I feel its worth it in the end.

I like these photoshop action packs bc theres tons of stuff in here that can help create a reshade like look:

intramoon's ps action dump

wooldawn's ps acton dump

smubuh's photoshop actions

early-grape's butter action

hazelminesims's ps actions

Templates!

I loveeeeeee templates so much!! theres so many out there to use for gameplay. It really adds more to gameplay posts! This can be dust/dirt, film burn, that cute camera template etc etc. templates are really fun to use and play around with~

I usually go on deviantart to find templates to use! if you want to check out my deviantart account you can find it here! I favorite a lot of things I can use for gameplay screenies.

Gifs

making gifs is cool because it brings the gameplay "to life" ~

EZgif is a free website that converts videos to gifs. You'll need a recording program like OBS (which is also free).

i like making gifs when i want to capture a (cute) moment (kisses, hugs, cooking etc etc). Its also cool to capture the weather in game like when its snowing or raining.

Little details

Some people really go all out on editing gameplay posts like adding hair strands and adding more details to sims faces (catchlights, tears, blushing, etc). You dont really have to do this, but I want to mention it anyways! I want to try doing this at some point because I enjoy editing my gameplay posts/photos in general and adding tiny details is fun to me lol. It adds realism to posts, but it isnt necessary!

Procreate is a really good program that you can get if you have an ipad. its 10$ and thats, that. You dont have to make any payments. You can also animate on procreate too if you're down for that!

Find inspiration in other simmers!

the sims community on tumblr is filled with such talented people! Theres lots of gameplay simmers who dont do your typical gameplay posts that you can check out and learn from!!! Ive always struggled with getting the right angles when taking screenies. I looked at other simmers and how they take screenshots & it was really helpful for me since I noticed I would take too many over the shoulder photos on my sims lol.

I think thats all the advice I have! I hope this was helpful and if you have any questions please send me an ask or dm! :D

[berberriescorner]

"Through It All"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: There aren’t many things that put Rio on edge. Most people see a calm, cool, and collected individual. Keeping a level head is his specialty. What happens when the person he loves most needs him to be strong for both of them? Get a glimpse of what it’s like seeing him hold someone down through thick and thin, in sickness and health. If you know, you know.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND AUTHOR’S NOTE**

Warnings: Angst…like seriously. You’ll understand once you read the author’s note. This fic contains sweet, soft, fluffy Rio. The fic includes some of my crazy humor with a smidge of the character’s inner thoughts. If reading about gynecological procedures makes you uncomfortable, this may not be a fic for you. It doesn’t go into great detail, but it is mentioned and sheds a bit of light. If mentions of the ins and outs of fertility is a soft spot, please read with caution. It isn’t my intention to bring anyone down, but this story is based on parts of my own experiences. Again, the note will explain more.

Author/Personal Note: Okay. Where to start? So, as some of you may know throughout the past two years I’ve been getting cycles of iron infusions. This year, after making several complaints and an ER visit or two. I had an ultrasound performed, which led to me getting surgery months later (the procedure I had done recently). I’ve been spending my days at home recovering, and it’s given me time to reflect. Damn, it’s been a rough couple of years, but I’m so thankful through it all. It’s difficult having a plethora of health issues. This situation put so much added stress on top of it all. As a woman, hearing you have a fibroid. Learning it’s best to get it removed to protect your fertility is scary as hell. You get it done, get sent home, and though you have loved ones taking amazing care of you. It’s still a difficult, challenging process. At times, it’s lonely. No one but you can fully wrap your head around the emotions and feelings the body is going through. It’s pretty wild.

Anywho, sorry y’all. Let me stop rambling and get to the point. We all know how overactive my imagination is. Being stuck in bed, my mind has been wandering. I thought to myself why not take this experience and channel it into a fic. I’m hoping that this will also be a comforting story to anyone who’s been through the same experience. Here is a look at how I envision Rio taking in the experience with his lady. I plan to write at least two more parts for this. Happy reading my lovelies! I wrote this on a whim, in celebration of my birthday, so ignore the grammatical errors my loves. I may come back and do some more editing. Depends on how I’m feeling.

Word Count: 1,800+. 

Inspired By💜:

Random fun fact: Toni Braxton and I have the same birthday😆. Happy Birthday, Queen💓.

Everything was still as a deafening silence fell across the room. It was as if each occupant was afraid to utter a single word. Your mother pretended to distract herself with a Kindle book as your father paced the floor quietly. They’d share a glance each time they checked their watch, smiling at one another in comfort and reassurance. 

Then, together, they directed their attention toward the chair in the far right corner. It was tucked in a tight corner next to a window, giving little relief and comfort to your husband, Rio. He, too was anxious, but no one would ever know it. He was always able to still his facial features. Never one to give his emotions away. The only person who could read him wasn’t in the room. You were on the other side of the building and the reason for your families’ nervousness. No longer able to stand the constant glances and silence, Rio stood from his seat. He released a breath, rubbing his palms against his jeans. Turning to your parents, he stated, “I’m going to grab a quick cup of coffee from the cafeteria. Would you two like something?”

Your mother, a gentle, nurturing soul, responded for both of them.

“No, baby. We’re fine. Don’t worry. I’ll come find you if we receive news.”

Rio ducked away in a vacant spot in the cafeteria, hands folded over top of the steam of the coffee. He searched for peace and solace until a jolting vibration exploded in his jacket pocket. Fumbling for the phone, he answered without looking.

“What they say ma-. Oh, my bad. Wassup? Everything good?” Rio listened patiently before snapping. “You know this is something you could’ve handled yourself, right? I don’t have time for the three stooges bullshit today.”

He instantly felt a slight pang of guilt. Rio realized that the stress and worry of his current situation were influencing his mood. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed. Inhaling, he continued, “My bad bro. She’s been in for three hours, and it’s got me tweaking. Nobody’s giving us any damn answers. It’s a non-invasive procedure, but it’s still considered major surgery. I just need to hear she’s good.”

“It’s all good, boss. I know you’re worried about wifey. She’s a strong woman. Boss lady’s going to be alright. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Call me as soon as you know something,” Mick responded.

“You're right. Thank you for holdin’ shit down.”

He laid his phone on the table, burying his face in his hands. The last few moments he spent with you were on repeat in his mind. Rio returned to the present, hearing the chair opposite him slide backward. His eyes connected with your father’s, and he readied himself for wherever the conversation would go.

It was no secret that the two hadn’t always seen eye to eye. The two men sat for several minutes before your father started speaking.

“I’ll be honest with you, man. You’re not at all what I envisioned for my daughter.”

“You seriously want to have this conversation right now?”

“Now wait, son. Let me finish.”

Hold up. It’s son now? Where is this going? It didn’t even sound disrespectful. It doesn’t sound like he’s trying to play me on some sucka shit. I’ll hear him out.

Rio nodded his head, giving your father the floor.

“I may not know all you do for a living, son, but I know you’ve managed to make a comfortable and safe life for my baby girl. When it comes down to it, that’s what I’ve always wanted for her. It took me some time to come to terms with it, but I know, without a doubt, that you’re doing everything in your power to make her feel protected and loved. Let me just say what I’m getting at,” he chuckled. “You’re good at hiding it, son, but I know you’re worried. Hell, so are we, but that’s alright.”

Rio’s head dropped, shoulders slumping. He took the opportunity to be vulnerable finally. Your father’s acceptance allowed him the space to do so. He felt a comforting grip land on his shoulder. Your father finished, “Baby girl is going to be alright, son. With all your love and support, she’ll be back on her feet soon. Now, you take a few more moments to yourself. Don’t be surprised when her momma wraps you up in a big hug when you head back. She’s worried about her favorite son-in-law.”

Rio chuckled, “I’m her only son-in-law, sir.”

“Even better. You ain’t gotta share. That sweet woman sure knows how to smother people in love.”

“You’re daughter is the same way. It’s one of the many things I love about her.”

“Which is why you understand my reasons for being so guarded. That’s my baby girl. Enough with that ‘sir’ shit too. Call me pops. My son may not like that, but I get a kick out of irritating him anyway. He’s overprotective of his sister.”

“Y’all gon’ try to take me out if I ever mess up, huh?”

“What I look like snitching on myself? Let’s not ever get to that bridge, son.”

The two men shared a laugh, but everything turned serious when they saw your mom power walking towards them. Rio's heart began thudding in his chest.

“Ma, what’s wrong? Did-.”

“Relax, sugar,” she cooed, rubbing a hand against both men’s arms. “The nurse said the doctor should be ready to talk to us in about fifteen minutes. Let’s head back to the waiting room.”

Fifteen minutes came and went. Your mother couldn’t help but crack a smile at both men. They both started fussing about how long the surgeon was taking. She felt sorry for the man once he approached them. The doctor, attempting to apologize, was cut off by an impatient Rio.

“You good, doc. We understand these things take time, but excuse us for being anxious. We were under the impression this would be about an hour-long procedure. How’s my wife?”

The surgeon explained himself. “That’s what we anticipated, but the process took longer. Your wife’s last ultrasound a few months back showed a fibroid the size of a plum. Sadly, it grew to the size of an orange, which would explain why things grew more difficult during her last few cycles. However, you’ll be happy to know that we managed to do it laparoscopically, and everything looks great. She’s being taken to recovery now, but we’ve decided to keep her overnight.”

All three of your family members asked, “Why is that,” in unison.

“We just want to keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours. Given gas was used to see things more clearly, we’d like to monitor her. We’ll need to see that she gets up and walks to get things flowing. I just want to be sure she gets it moving out of her system. Also, since she’s anemic, we just want to be extra careful. I promise everything went well, and she should be ready to go in the morning.”

Each family member felt at ease. The trio waited for an invitation to your recovery room. Though he wanted to be the first person you saw when you woke up, Rio encouraged your parents to go first. The two visitors' only rule irritated them all.

Your eyes fluttered open, and your parents laughed at the slurred responses given to your nurse. Your parents took turns kissing your forehead, expressing encouraging words. Your father, now at ease, left the room in search of Rio.

“You might want to hurry back there. She’s still a bit loopy. Baby girl has been asking the nurse, where my husband? You got my baby acting ratchet in this hospital,” he joked.

“Aye, she was like that when I met her,” he laughed, walking towards recovery.

Rio slid behind the curtain, laying eyes on the most precious sight. You were in bed, laid back, eyes closed, singing off-key as your mother held your hand, laughing. The nurse stepped beside him, giving a small giggle.

“She’s been looking for you. Ma’am, the man of the hour is here.”

Your eyes popped open as you halted the song. “My husbannnd! Hey baeee,” you winced, given the pain and having a hoarse voice.

“Mama, you back here wildin’ ain’t you? How’s our little patient doing, ma,” he directed toward your mom.

“Crazy as ever. This girl opened her eyes, looked at me, and called herself whispering. Loud as ever, she asked me if she still had a uterus. Her daddy would’ve turned red if he were capable.”

They both shared a laugh as you did your best to shrug shoulders. Wanting to give you two privacy, your mom went to sit in the waiting room. Rio turned to you, holding your hand. His lips brushed across your knuckles, and he shivered at how cold they were. Wrapping his hand around yours, he tried warming the digits.

“My momma ain’t answer my question though,” you mumbled, eyes closed.

Rio smiled, “What’s that now, mama?”

“My uterus. Sis still in there, right?”

“Yes, darlin’. What makes you think it’s not?”

“I signed them papers, man. In the event of a ‘mergency, they were going to take shawty,” you sassed, words still slurring.

Rio did his best to hold back a cackle. Clearing his throat, he replied, “Mama, you straight. Everything went according to plan. There was no emergency. The fibroid is out. It was bigger than expected. That’s why it feels like you were out for a while.”

“Aight bet. So when we making babies,” you asked, wincing again.

“First off, sit still, mama. Your body is pretty sore right now.”

“Baby, I’m drugged up! I don’t feel nothin’.”

“Second. You’ll be recovering for four to six weeks. You’re not going to be in any type of mood for all that. I believe the surgeon said no sex for two to three weeks. No babies for at least six months, darlin’. They just sliced your uterus open and stitched it back together, mama,” he explained, running his thumb across your lip.

He laughed at the pout etched on your face. Rio caressed the side of your face, kissing you gently. “On some real shit. I was worried out my mind over you, mama. I’m so glad you’re good. You’re my world. The clock kept ticking, and I was about to lose it.”

Your eyes connected with his, “I’m right here, papa. I’m good. We gonna be good. No matter what,” you whispered. Even through the drugs and drowsiness, you could feel his angst. Rio could read between the lines. He knew what you were trying to communicate. It had been on both your minds heavily. Your eyes connected with his. Rio saw the unshed tears you were holding back, and he swallowed hard, nodding his head in agreement. No matter where this path led, Rio knew, in his heart, that he loved you with everything in him.

Baby or not, we’ll still feel fulfilled and happy. My life’s purpose is to love and give you the world.

This piece was both personal and therapeutic for me to write. I truly hope you all enjoyed it. Please be sure to comment and reblog, it's appreciated. Now I'm about to go eat some birthday cake and read some amazing fan fiction😆.

Divider credit💜 : @firefly-graphics

tagging💜 : @4everbrookemarie @darqchilddaydreamz @astoldbychae @sunshine-flower

@nightlywords7 @starrynite7114 @amorestevens @fineanddandy

@rio-reid-whoreee @that-one-anxious-mango @novaniskye

@alertyoulikeitsamber @1andonlytashae @lovedlover @blkbutterfly816 @banana123pudding

[puniflash]

The Fall Guy

This movie has completely taken control over my existence, so here are the little things I love most about it, in no particular order.

The triple meaning of the title.

Colt not just being the fall guy in the sense of the stunt community, but also (almost) taking the fall for Henry's murder, and falling in love with Jody so deeply he'd basically die for her.

This is so cool, and I love the english language for it.

(Also, the little fall guy in the A? Perfection.)

The long shots.

My love for one-ers is just as big as Jody's, I guess.

The opening sequence is just so perfect.

Introducing the main characters, establishing Colt's and Jody's relationship and setting high stakes from the beginning with that stunt gone wrong.

This long shot shows you exactly what kind of movie you're gonna watch, and it's probably one of my favourite opening sequences in a movie ever.

This one is so perfect, too.

Jody trying to come up with answers for everyone, and keeping everything under control amuses me and stresses me out in equal messure.

And talking from the little personal experience I have, this sequence (and the whole movie for that matter) captures the work on set so accurately. It's truly amazing.

Long shots like this take so much time and effort to coordinate, and I just love, and appreciate it so much when movies do that. It's so impressive, and so fun to watch.

The prayer hands emoji.

Tom sending Colt nothing more than a prayer hands emoji because he just doesn't care about his well-being at all.

(I mean, he is in fact responsible for Colt's accident, so it's savage but not surprising.)

And then Colt giving that prick at his valet job the exact gesture because the guy acts like an asshole, and Colt couldn't care less about his crispy fiver.

Gold.

The script credits.

This is genius, and I love everything about it!

When you pause the movie and read everthing, you can see there are actual excerpts from the movie script, just a little modified, to fit the credits.

When I saw this for the first time it totally caught me by surprise, and now it is everything I never knew I needed.

This entire conversation.

Jody asking: "Did you fall?" is so ironic, I wanna scream.

Girl, of course he fell. FOR YOU!

And Colt is so high on whatever kind of drug they spiked his drink with, it's so endlessly funny to me.

Plus the way he just can't stop himself from telling Jody how beautiful she is over and over again, while completely ignoring her concern about his wounds.

Not to mention the extended version of this with that sponge bath discussion.

(Haven't seen the extendet cut yet but saw the scene on YouTube a milion times. I die everytime for multiple reasons.)

I could watch a whole movie of them just having a conversation like this.

Bonus:

Everytime I watch this I end up questioning my sanity, cause I feel like he spontaneously gets me pregnant with whatever it is he does here.

Every. Single. Time.

The way his eyes move from her eyes to her lips?

How Jody didn't just lose her mind, and all ability to breathe right then and there is beyond me.

Split Screen.

Another conversation that is just perfect in it's entirety.

The split screen opening exactly on the middle line of that shelf in the backround is satisfying me in a way that should put me in a mental facility.

Colt and Jody being so in sync and mirroring each other during this whole conversation, even after being apart for like 18 months is so special to me.

Colt knowing her favourite movies?

Their love for each other really is a different kind of epic.

The music matching the movie.

This is pure perfection, and I will never shut up about it.

The bottle equals the promise.

The container is turning around in an uncontrollable spin.

Also:

The Song "Dead Guy On Ice" from the original soundtrack is playing right when Colt says this to Gail on the phone.

Also, also:

"I was made for loving you" being woven into so many songs of the original soundtrack, and returning over and over throughout the whole movie in different ways.

It gives me James Bond vibes, and that just makes my heart smile.

I could go on and on about how much joy this sparks in me, everytime I watch the movie. It never fails to make me smile.

Jean Claude.

Nothing to add here, he's such a bon garçon.

Also, the fact that Colt and Jody just keep him after the happenings of the film, is probably my favourite thing ever.

(And I never knew I needed to hear Ryan Gosling speak french, but apparently it's something my body and soul desired very much.)

The post-it notes.

I am OBSESSED with this. Literally the most relatable thing about Tom Ryder. I love using post-it notes for all kinds of stuff when my brain gets overwhelmed, so this is just too real.

"FIRE MASSUSE"

"PRETEND YOU WENT TO JULLIARD"

"next role: paramedic vampire"

"is it MOMOA or MAMOA"

These are cracking me up so hard, I can't.

The cockroach story.

This seriously isn't talked about enough.

Right when I thought I couldn't fall any deeper for Colt's and Jody's relationship, they hit me with this.

Just imagine Colt on all fours, trying to usher that coakroach out of the room, while Jody just sits on the bed, telling him to get it done because she wants to start their movie night.

The domesticity this story implies is killing me in the best way possible.

You're so uncoordinated.

Another thing we just don't talk about enough is this scene right at the beginning:

This is kinda blurry but he totally bumbs her head on that cabinet behind her, and all she does is laugh it off and tell him he's uncoordinated.

And I just love the thought of Colt being this super profesh stuntman, always double-checking everything to make sure it's safe to do the stunts and roll the cameras, but going back to being so adorably clumsy the second the adrenaline rush wears off.

I will never get over this.

That's my girl.

Colt reacting like this when Gail says "That's my girl." is everything to me.

It's so cute, and you know it's exactly what he thought as well, 'cause he is so freaking proud of Jody. It's just so perfect.

"You blew yourself up!"

Tom telling Colt he's supposed to be dead 'cause he blew himself up, then proceeding to blow himself up is amazing writing, and shows how much thought went into this whole thing.

This movie is so good at foreshadowing itself, and I can't get enough of it.

Bonus:

He gets three bars on his phone, and then there are three explosions errupting.

This is satisfying my brain on another level. I can't even put it into words.

Spicy margaritas

Yet another beautiful conversation, that comes full-circle in the end.

Just casually planning a trip to the beach in the middle of the film production chaos, I love that for them.

(The way Ryan says "spicy margarita" is a beautiful thing, that haunts my dreams in the best way possible.)

In conclusion

I love this movie with all my heart, and I could talk hours and hours about how amazing it is.

There's so much more I love about it, but it's just too much to fit it all in here, so these are just the small things that make it extra special for me.

Honerable mentions go to:

- Dan Tucker, master of movie quotes, and best friend Colt Seavers could ever ask for.

- Colt Seavers' coffee side quest.

- The movie lighting a Ryan Gosling sized fire under my ass, prompting me to forget about life, and get a new obsession.

[the-trinket-witch]

And with that: our Airborne Afternoon comes to a close. As the wind dies down, and the stars mingle with the lights of the city, We hope to you all that your time in Altus was fun and fanciful.

And to celebrate: Have some cake and merriment during Albert's Broomquet Birthday!

Summon: Come in, come in! There's plenty of room around, and if necessary, up on the ceiling as well.

(Set) Home: Everything fits, and the hat is enchanted to not fall off. Don't think I'll ever get over a nice flowing outfit.

Home (Idle 1): I don't do it for the outcome, but it is nice to know the thought I put into others' gifts sometimes comes around when they pick something out for me. Home (Idle 2): Everyone's come out to the party; I probably should have done more to clean... Home (Login): Yes, I know we share a dorm, Prefect, but It's still nice to have you come.

Home Tap 1: Let's see...Orange Crocuses, Marigolds, Orange and white daisies, poppies, yellow lilies and...coreopsis? Home Tap 2: Ortho says I'm one of the more experienced fliers in school. Is that why he asked to race me later? Home Tap 3: Jade and Azul said they had something planned later tonight. I wonder what they have in store? Home Tap 4: Don't tell Grim, but that box in the fridge is a slice of tropical cake from the town bakery. Why do you think I insist everyone have as much of the regular cake as possible? Home Tap 5: I need to get more beverages; no, no I can get it. That's what the broom is for, no?

GROOVY: You said just 'hold it like my umbrella, and drop off the side'? If you say it'll make a 'cool' shot...

Duo Magic: Albert: Hold on tight~! Grim: Fnyah! OK but I better get the last slice of cake for this!

Interview:

Question 1: If you could go anywhere with flight magic, where would you want to go?

"There's so many things to consider with any destination, I'd almost rather see where the wind takes me."

Question 2: When was a time you were glad you could use magic?

"I'm...er -cough- rather glad to have a spell to dry off quickly. You know how easy it is to get drenched in places like Octavinelle~"

Question 3: What do you do in your downtime?

"I pick up shifts at the Monstro Lounge, get a headstart on assigned reading, work more on cleaning Pentergeist. I'd like it to be spick and span by the time I'd like to have it re-open during the Cultural Festival."

TAGLIST:

@ceruleancattail @squidwen @thecosmicjackalope @vaporvipermedia@writing-heiress

@oya-oya-okay @k-looking-glass-house @thehollowwriter @rainesol @cyn-write

@heartscrypt @honey-milk-depresso @br3adtoasty @jackiecronefield @ruggiethethuggie

@hoboyherewego @achy-boo @oreoskys @oseathepebble @oathofoaks

@tunabesimpin @hamstergal @fumikomiyasaki@valse-a-mille-temps

@hallowed-delights @kimikitti @plutos-hell @thetwstwildcard @atwstedstory

@comingyourlugubriousness @ice-cweam-sod4 @twst-the-night-away @nammanarin @scint1llat3

[hannahbarberra162]

hOrnithology for Beginners, Epilogue

on Ao3

All the other chapters

Marco come pick me up I have science to do.

I hope you enjoyed the ending! I almost included some smut but it didn't feel right with the pacing of the story.

~~~

Nine More Months Later

Marco POV

Marco watched you survey the deck of the Moby Dick, trying to determine if you were suitably impressed. You were hard to read but the tiny lift in your eyebrows signaled to him your approval. His Phoenix had been driving him absolutely crazy over the past week, wanting to prepare his room and get the ship to pristine condition to ensure you liked it. He’d felt compelled to primp and preen in front of the mirror, the Phoenix wanted to look its best for the returning Ornithologist. Despite trying to keep himself even keel, Marco had snapped at his siblings all week. They taunted him relentlessly, which he deserved. But the Phoenix was riding him hard, wanting everything to be perfect for it’s mate…er, date.

You were coming on board with Etta and they were bringing you across the Grand Line to an uninhabited island. Since their time on your island, Etta had become interested in etymology, specifically related to beetles. She’d maintained a correspondence with Ace, and had let him know the two of you wouldn’t be at your island for a while. Ace told Marco, and the two of them asked Pops if they could ferry the two of you where you needed to go. Pops had agreed easily with a twinkle in his eye. You had a great reputation with the crew already and Marco knew there was a betting pool on whether you’d shoot him again, with most betting that you did. 

Marco was hoping for the best, but realistically he didn’t know if anything physical would happen between the two of you. After he’d taken you flying, you’d looked up at him with a wistful gaze and angled your face towards his own. But at the last moment you’d frowned and thrust your hand between the two of you for a handshake. He’d taken it with grace but the Phoenix was sad. He’d tried to calm the bird within him, but it had its heart set on you. The conference had further endeared you to the Phoenix, it felt that you’d found an audience to adore it.  

After the conference, Marco had given you a snail in case the World Government or Marines gave you trouble due to your paper about him. That way you’d be able to call him for help if you were targeted as an  ally to the Whitebeard Pirates. They hadn’t, but you’d called him a few times to ask follow up questions about specific facets of the Phoenix you were curious about. That had turned into periodic calls and frequent letters between the two of you. You wrote mostly about birds you’d seen and sent some drawings as well. You started including little bits of personal information as well as the months went on. His brothers always knew when he got a new letter - he was snappish and almost hostile until he read the newest piece of news you’d sent him. He saved all your letters in his office, hidden at the bottom of his desk drawer. Marco knew it was silly, but he didn’t want anyone else to see the letters or drawings you’d sent. He could probably recite them all by heart from how many times he’d read them.

So when he finally saw you aboard the ship, he’d had to stop himself from bursting into a deluge of flames. The man knew he had to keep his cool, things weren’t as easy as the Phoenix thought they were. You took stock of the ship, putting your things down for a few moments. Marco noted your blow gun was still strapped to your thigh, he didn’t blame you. Etta had run ahead to Ace, the Logia user swinging her in a circle with loud kisses. He set her down and was whispering into her ear, making her giggle. They scurried off, presumably to Ace’s cabin, as soon as politely possible. You rolled your eyes at the pair, crossing your arms over your chest. Alright, show time.

Your POV

Being on the Moby Dick was more fun than you’d like to admit. The ship was huge, you’d never been on anything remotely as big before. You walked up to Whitebeard, introduced yourself and thanked him for taking you to your research outpost. 

“My pleasure, child,” said the World’s Strongest Man. “Was it you who poisoned my son?” 

“Depends which one,” you replied, shrugging. “I only poisoned Marco, Ace poisoned himself.” You weren’t cowed by his presence or ashamed of your actions, and you saw no reason to pretend to be. 

“GURAHAHAHAHA, a woman with spirit, I can see why my son likes you. Enjoy your time aboard the ship child.”

“Thank you, sir.” You blushed and moseyed off, knowing you’d been dismissed. You took out your binoculars, sea birds were something you had interest in but rarely got to see. You were hoping to see a New World Albatross to check it off your list. You’d become somewhat of a celebrity in the birding world, if such a thing existed. Your paper on the Phoenix, which had included 10 pages of diagrams and figures, was an overnight success in the scientific community. The information had made its way to the World Government, but they weren’t very interested in your calculations of the density of Marco’s bones. You knew there were some grumblings that you had slept with Marco to get the information, but you didn’t care. Let people think what they wanted, even if it wasn’t true. You were on your way with Etta to an island that had beetles only found on the small, sandy location. Since there were unique beetles, there were also unique birds, and you were hoping for an extended study on new colonies that had developed there. 

It wasn’t an easy choice to be friends with Etta again. After the pirates had left you didn’t talk to her for almost a month. You were so upset by her betrayal, you promised yourself you wouldn’t ever speak to her again. She tried to come by a few times but you didn’t open the door to her. Eventually, you did decide to reach out, just because you wanted some closure. It was an emotional conversation between the two of you, with both of you crying by the end of it. You listened to her and understood why she did what she did, but the reasons didn’t make it hurt less. The conversation ended on okay terms, but you weren’t sure the friendship would be rekindled. 

Etta had ended up becoming very interested in beetles after meeting Ace. She spent months learning and researching and had pursued higher studies. She sought you out every so often for clarification and it had slowly brought you back together. It took a lot of work between the two of you to get to where you could spend time together. Things weren’t the same as they were before, but they were mending and you had enough respect for her scientific enthusiasm to spend time on an island together. With the time you’d be spending as scientists together, you were feeling hopeful that the two of you might be friends again.

Your research was how the two of you ended up on the Moby Dick. You’d wanted to pay for passage on a merchant vessel to your scientific venture, but Etta had asked Ace in one of her letters. Ace said they were heading the same way, it wouldn’t be out of their way to pick you up and drop you off. If you were going to be traveling with pirates, you might as well travel with the strongest of them all. You’d have no trouble with shifty merchants or other pirates along the way, that was for sure. So you’d accepted and found yourself on Whitebeard’s ship, once again with Marco The Phoenix.

“So, how has business been going yoi?” Marco asked. Even after your article had been published, you continued to write letters back and forth with Marco. At first it was purely business, sending him the article and thanking him for coming to your lecture. But it had turned into a friendship of sorts, like pen pals. Ok, it was more than friendship. As the months went on and you exchanged more letters, you became more attached to the bird. Your day brightened immensely when you got one of his letters and you read them over and over again. You’d shared personal details and drawings with Marco in your correspondence as he shared more of himself. You’d told him how you hadn’t gone back to the restaurant, instead starting your own business of drawing caricatures of tourists. You made quite a bit of money, more than you’d ever made waitressing. Your pictures were often insulting but people loved them and bought them as souvenirs. You were known for making portraits of people looking like birds - either ones they selected or ones you thought they looked like.

“Really well, actually. I was finally able to buy a better dehydrator, which I’ve been wanting for a long time.” You still loved pineapple and had dehydrated crates worth for your trip into the wilderness. You hoped Marco didn’t dig into it before you got to your destination.

“Good, good.” Marco seemed to be having some hesitation, like he was holding himself back. You didn’t remember Marco being awkward, he had always been smooth before. Well, whatever. There were literally a thousand other people on board to entertain yourself with, even if they were pirates. Maybe you’d find that really good looking guy from the first time you’d met.

“Where can I drop my stuff?” you said, tapping your pack with your toe.

“Oh, you can put it in my room for now,” Marco replied, picking it up for you. 

“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?” You weren’t exactly sure what you and Marco would be up to tonight, but you didn’t want to assume anything. A tiny part of you hoped something did, but you also liked giving Marco shit. You’d be on the ship for a few weeks, the island wasn’t close to where you were located. There would be plenty of time for things to develop between you and Marco, if they did at all.

“How rude! Dart him again!” cheered a man you recognized from the restaurant. He still had that pompadour, that was his normal look? You rolled your eyes.

“Eh, not right now. But if you want to see someone poisoned, you can try it out,” you replied. He paled and you laughed. Marco led you to the stairs, taking you down to put your things in his room. You peeked in while he set them down on an overstuffed chair. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it was neat and orderly, with a few mementos from his travels. His desk was a little less organized, with papers scattered all over the surface. And in the back corner, a framed picture you remembered vividly. Busting in, you grabbed it off his desk.

“I can’t believe you kept this!” you said, looking over the drawing. It was the sketch you’d made of him as a bird - before you’d known he was the Phoenix. The figure you’d drawn was much smaller and cuter than his actual bird form, but you stood by it still. Marco plucked it from you, almost like he was embarrassed. 

“I like it yoi,” was all he said, putting it back on his desk. He adjusted it so it sat just so on his desk, like things had to be in a certain order. “Let’s go back on deck, I’m sure the party will be getting started soon.”

“Party?”

~

And indeed, there was a party in your honor. Well, you couldn’t be sure it was in your honor, it seemed like these pirates needed little reason to party. Still, it was the largest party you’d ever been invited to. You hung around Marco, and later Etta and Ace once they resurfaced from whatever they were doing. You were chit chatting with the crew members, surprising yourself for being so casual with pirates. They had been asking you about your business venture outside of your scientific curiosities.

“But why insulting drawings?” asked the World’s Prettiest Man Izou, still dressed in Wano inspired clothing. Now why couldn’t he have been the Phoenix? You would have forgiven him much sooner. 

“People pay more for insulting caricatures,” you said, shrugging. “People seem to like it when I rip on them, I don’t know why.” You’d brought sketching supplies naturally, but didn’t want to waste them on stupid drawings of pirates. “I can draw some for you guys if you have pencils.” 

~

“GURAHAHAHAHA, an excellent likeness!” You’d given the Captain a drawing of himself with a crescent beard that echoed the way his mustache looked. He was White beard, but you didn’t want to draw anything too insulting. It would be no fun if you were stomped to death before you’d even made it to your destination. You’d been drawing the pirates all evening, to their intense amusement. You’d drawn Haruta as a Tontatta, Namur as a mermaid, Kingdew as a bumblebee, and Fossa smiling, among others. They loved seeing the finished product and multiple beers had been ejected through noses after you’d shown the final results. 

“Draw more! Just one more!” cheered Thatch. He’d been especially taken with the drawings after you’d drawn one of him as a loaf of bread. 

“No, no. I’m done for now with you lot,” you said, handing the clipboard back to Thatch. The crowd booed you.

“Enough yoi. She said she’s done,” Marco said, in a tone that held no room for arguing. He was radiating little wisps of fire, like he was ready to defend your honor. The crowd was still booing but was dispersing. Marco had been hanging out near you all night, almost like he was nervous to leave you alone. He was good company though, and you enjoyed talking with him in person rather than over the mail. “Would you like me to show you to the guest room?” Marco asked. You were tired of being at the party, but not that tired. You didn’t like playing games, you just did what you thought felt right. Besides, you weren’t stupid, you knew the Moby Dick hadn’t been going in the direction of a random unnamed scientific outpost. 

You hummed in response. “I’m not tired just yet, I’d rather complete some research. There’s one component I’m still missing,” you said cryptically. 

Marco raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What component yoi?”

“The effects of endorphin release upon the Phoenix,” you deadpanned. You thought you heard the start of a bird song but Marco cleared his throat instead. He leaned against the railing of the deck on one forearm, bringing his face closer to yours.

Marco laughed lightly. “Oh? And will your findings be published?” Marco asked, leaning over and caging you against the railing with his body.

“No, this is more for personal education,” you replied with a smirk, tilting your head towards his.

“Well, we must satisfy your curiosity yoi. What kind of endorphin release did you have in mind? Meditation? Exercise? Eating spicy food?” 

“Something like that,” you replied. You grabbed the front of his open shirt and pulled his face to yours, kissing him deeply. Marco kissed you back, leaning you back against the railing of the deck. You distantly heard cheers from the crew, but couldn’t be bothered to care. Besides, you didn’t have enough darts to shoot them all. 

Marco POV

If the skinny dipping didn’t do it, and the poison didn’t do it, this would certainly be Marco’s end. Marco the man was fine with kissing on the deck in front of the crew, they all did it from time to time. The Phoenix, however, was ready for heads to roll. It didn’t want any potential rivals seeing your romance, it wanted your mate DATE safely within Marco’s room before anything happened. Marco had already been riding a thin line all night. He knew he had no business telling you what to do and who to interact with, but there was no calming the Phoenix. It wanted you all to itself, away from all his siblings. The whole night his hand was itching to throw you over his shoulder and take you below deck. He’d nearly done it when Thatch had made you laugh at some stupid joke, but had held himself back at the last moment. Now he wasn’t sure he could. The whoops coming from the deck had his eye twitching. 

“Would you like to continue this experiment elsewhere?” Marco whispered into your ear. You shivered at the feeling of his stubble on your cheek.

“In your nest?” you whispered back mischievously. Marco nipped your ear as a reply. This time, he did throw you over his shoulder, causing you to laugh. He stalked off towards the stairs, causing even more whooping from his brothers. Marco knew they’d tease him at a later time, but he wasn’t thinking about that. At that moment, all he cared about was hearing your laughter, feeling you in his arms, and knowing that he’d have a few weeks to spend with you on the Moby. And he could always come visit you at your outpost, one of the benefits of having wings. Phoenix and man were united, excited for the future with their favorite birdwatcher. 

[anamenooneowns]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖MEETING JJ

an: another moodboard/ficlet ig? is this allowed? um, youre from nyc in this one and moved to the obx, yeah. if you didnt get the memo either with the moodboard you're black and you say a few words in Spanish bc youre also hispanic (idk how to speak Spanish so if its wrong i'm apologizing beforehand😃) enjoy!

DNI IF YOU DO NOT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO. THIS BLOCK BUTTON GOES BRAZY

"Ma, why'd we move here again?" you groaned, tugging at your shirt to generate some sort of cool air as you walked in the sun.

Your mother ignored your question after having answered it for the umpteenth time. Rent was rising crazily in NYC and it was getting more dangerous by the day. And your family down here that she had lost contact with due to her own mother practically begged your mother to come back down and just move in, so that's exactly what your parents did.

The culture down South was something you weren't acclimated to. In NYC, people kept their heads down and kept it pushing, but you were perceived here. 'Good morning/afternoon/evening' along with 'Sir' and 'Ma'am' were integrating themselves into your vocabulary. Still, it was obvious these folks didn't exactly... like you. They didn't like the way you dressed with multiple gold chains on your neck and rings galore, or the fact that your nails were so long, and too many old people commented that they could hang onto your hoops.

It was annoying.

"Oh, mama, go into the beauty supply right there and see if they have products for our hair. Here- take this to pay for it, and get us some drinks too from the deli, it's hot as hell out here," your mother ushered you away, pushing three twenties into your hand.

You sighed and turned on your heel, going into the beauty supply and greeting the cashier before scanning the shelves. Thankfully, they had all the products your family used and it came out much cheaper than it would have in your old store when you paid for it. Next was the store at the corner of the strip mall. Your mother drove you out here since you definitely wouldn't find what you guys needed in the rich part of the island so you had to come to what your extended family called 'The Cut'.

"Dude, I-I'm tellin' you this is the right idea, when have I ever led you astr- fuck," a voice hissed.

You gasped as something wet poured down your front, ruining your crop-top and getting you sticky in the process. Slowly, you looked up, mean mug getting even meaner as you glared at some blond who was looking down at you with his eyes wide and pink lips parted like a damn fish, some other boy behind him.

You were yelling at him, that much he could tell, but all he could see was some phantom light shining behind you and making you look even more ethereal in presence and all he could hear was 'Sha la la la la, la laaaa'.

"He-fucking-llo?" you hissed, snapping your fingers in his face. "Does he have a brain or something?" was directed at his tall, brown-haired friend who sputtered as he tried to apologize for JJ, elbowing him.

"I... huh? Oh, shit! I'm sorry, my bad," he grabbed tissues and started to dry your own shirt for you making you freeze up, eyes widening while John B watched in literal horror as his dumbass best friend dabbed the paper towels against your chest.

Smack!

"Eres un idiota," was the last thing you said before leaving.

And JJ was touching his cheek and looking at the door where you left like a lovesick puppy as your fragrance of vanilla and shea butter lingered. "Dude... I think I'm in love."

an: comments and reblogs are appreciated! thanks for reading💕

[topazadine]

How to Avoid Purple Prose

This is one of the easiest criticisms to throw at someone: "Purple prose, almost unreadable, horrible, make it simpler."

The problem is that some critics don't understand the difference between elegant prose and purple prose. It's easy to sneer that someone has purple prose because they added a few extra adjectives if you're being very uncharitable. I see this a lot from pretentious first-year college students who believe that one Creative Writing class makes them a master.

However, there is a time and place for elegant, beautiful, ornate prose ... and times where it's just stupid and pretentious.

As with everything in writing, we need balance. That balance will look a little different to everyone, but many writing critics don't have the skills necessary to understand what each piece's balance point is. Hence, they accuse everything of being purple prose when it's not.

But purple prose is, unfortunately, very real, and we can all fall into its clutches. Let's look at what makes purple prose so terrible and what we can do instead.

Why is purple prose so bad?

Purple prose increases the cognitive load on your reader. It makes them work much harder to understand what you're saying because it hides important details in a wall of mostly irrelevant text.

You want to show off how cool you are and you forget that other people are meant to read this for their own enjoyment. It's self-important and disrespectful to the reader. Focusing on your ego and your need for praise will, paradoxically, wreck your writing.

Clear writing is good writing. People reading for entertainment (ie, people reading fiction outside of school) do not want to devote all of their brainpower to your work; they've got a million other, way more important things to focus on.

Your work is entertainment, and so it needs to be entertaining. Books that force you to translate them into Normal Human English are not entertainment - they are torture.

So what is purple prose, exactly?

It's easier to look at an example and dissect it. Here's an example from one of the most derided books of all time, Irene Iddesleigh by Amanda McKittrick Ros:

Arose the seeming deadly creature to that standard of joy and gladness which should mark his noble path! Endow him with the dewdrops of affection; cast from him the pangs of the dull past, and stamp them for ever beneath the waves of troubled waters; brighten his life as thou wouldst that of a faded flower; and when the hottest ray of that heavenly orb shall shoot its cheerful charge against the window panes of Dunfern Mansion, the worthy owner can receive it with true and profound thankfulness. Three weeks had scarcely passed ere Sir John was made the recipient of another invitation to Dilworth Castle. This second effusion of cordiality required neither anxious thought nor prolonged decision how to act, knowing as he did that it would again serve to bring his present thoughts into practice by affording him another opportunity of sharing in the loving looks of one for whom he feared there dwelt a strong inclination on his part to advance his affection.

What the fuck is this saying? Basically, that Sir John is happy that he's being invited back to Dilworth Castle, and he accepted the invitation immediately. Ok. We didn't need all that shit.

Hallmarks of purple prose

This isn't an exhaustive list, but it'll give you an idea.

Long, complex, yet insubstantial sentences. With purple prose, every single sentence has multiple clauses and goes on for three or four lines. But somehow it says absolutely nothing. That example from Irene Iddesleigh has a sentence that is SEVEN LINES LONG. And tells us nothing whatsoever. No action. Purple prose is annoying because no one's doing anything - they're just talking about doing things. Half of the above paragraph has no action in it whatsoever. The next part just tells us that he accepted the invitation because he's excited. That's it.

Excessive description. With purple prose, someone may take a full page to describe a room in excruciating detail before anyone even talks or does anything. You do not need to explain every facet of a place.

Double-describing things. In the above passage, Ros explains exactly how Sir John feels five different ways before she even tells us what he is excited about. If you describe something twice in a row, you are doing too much.

Explaining every facet of a human's state. Tell us once and then use action to support the point. Over-reliance on unique words. It's fine to use one or two highbrow words in a passage. English is such a fun language because we have so many synonyms for damn near everything. However, when every other word needs a reader to crack out a thesaurus, you have a problem.

Too many adjectives and adverbs. With purple prose, every single thing needs an adjective, and every action has an adverb. This is overwhelming and annoying; there's just too many details. Sometimes a table is just a table. Sometimes someone just does something. Too many metaphors and similes. This is a common issue with purple prose because it can't just tell you how someone feels: it has to define it in 10000 different ways. It's easy to get lost in a tangle of metaphors and have no idea what's actually going on.

Essentially, purple prose is too much of a good thing. Everything is set to 100 and there's no way for the reader to remember all of that.

What purple prose is not

To fix purple prose, we need to understand the difference between purple prose and good, normal, nice prose.

A few unique words sprinkled in here or there. If you've got one word per page that someone may need to look up, you don't have purple prose. The problem with purple prose isn't necessarily the vocabulary itself; it's the density.

Pretty prose that serves a purpose. If you have plenty of action and dialogue, you likely do not have purple prose.

Small instances of alliteration. People whine that using alliteration at all is a big no-no, but that is not true. It can add a certain melody to your writing, as long as you use it sparingly.

One or two long sentences per page. We want to use a variety of sentence structures, which will naturally mean some of our sentences are longer than others. If you intersperse some long lines with shorter ones, then you are doing just fine.

Any adjectives or adverbs. Sometimes you do need precision because you want to paint a picture. It's okay to have an ornately carved wooden table, or a red glowing candle, or dappled snowflakes fluttering from the sky. The issue is when every single noun has an adjective and every single verb has an adverb.

Description. There are people who genuinely believe you shouldn't explain anything and that everything should read like a movie script. That's dumb. It's fine to have glowing descriptions of things as long as they aren't overtaking the action and dialogue.

You'll notice a theme here: good prose has balance. It uses long sentences and short sentences; it allows for complex vocabulary without losing the point. There is proportionate description, action, and dialogue. There's a bit of wordplay, but that's not the primary focus of the scene.

Options to fix purple prose

If I were in charge of fixing Irene Iddesleigh into something humans would actually read, I would first down a full bottle of whisky. Then I'd do something like this.

Three weeks had scarcely passed ere Sir John received a sacred gift: a second invitation to Dilworth Castle. The very sun seemed to shine with fiercer glory as he regarded the succinct missive, penned on cream paper in soft-shining violet ink. He vacillated not; before he knew his own thoughts, he had rummaged in his drawer for the tools of love. With shaking hand, he dashed off his eager agreement, adding a flourishing signature below the ten lines of text. This he handed to his butler, who gave a smile adorned with sly glee. All who met him must see the fascination stamped on his face, Sir John was sure. Gone were the pangs of a dull past, washed away with the dewdrops of affection - so fleeting, yet essential to his sustained happiness. His very essence had bloomed like a faded flower reintroduced to the nourishing soil, ready to be plucked by that worthy maiden's delicate hand.

I've tried to replicate Ros's more late-Victorian style here, which does mean it's more purple than I, personally, would do. However, it retains the spirit of her thoughts and preserves some of her more interesting similes. They're more connected now into a larger metaphor of Sir John being like a sad, drooping flower that has now perked up and forgotten how miserable he was.

I also added more concrete details about where he is, what the invitation looks like, and what he does with it instead of just rambling on about how happy he is about being noticed by Irene-sempai.

Now, if I were doing this in a more modern style, I might write something like this:

Sir John looked up from his book when the butler entered, holding a small envelope with a weighty wax seal. Assuming it just another demand from his parents, he waved his old caretaker away, but the butler shook his head and came forward, smiling now. "You might wish to read it first, my lord." "Probably some gala nonsense." Frowning, he picked up his penknife and accepted the letter, then paused. Dust motes, floating in the golden sunlight, appeared like fairies encircling a script he had already come to love. There could be no mistaking that handwriting: painstakingly delicate cursive, with elegant whirls as underline. Nor had he ever seen anyone else use violet ink for their messages. It could only be her. Did he dare? Of course. Sir John pried off the wax seal of Dilworth Castle - a lion encircling a lamb - and scanned the invitation with jittering eyes that made the letters dance. An invitation, only three weeks after the last: his chest felt full of flowers, his eyes turning dewy by the morning sun. How could he ever refuse? "Get me my finest paper," Sir John demanded of the butler waiting at a respectful distance. "And good blue ink. The nice Mont-Blanc fountain pen - none of that gel nonsense."

How to prevent purple prose

Why do the above passages work better? Why are they more enjoyable to read? Here's why.

Use shorter sentences. One of the fastest ways to fix purple prose is just to chunk up your sentences better. It's hard to create super ornate and overwrought sentences in under two lines, so forcing yourself to keep every sentence less than three lines will naturally cut out a lot of the bullshit.

Ask yourself what you are really trying to show. What should a reader get out of this sentence? What information are you sharing with them? Then explain that.

Run your text through a grade estimator. It sucks, I know, but if we want to have highly engaging content, we do need to dumb it down just a bit. If you're writing above like a 9th grade level, you know you might be too purply. A lot of this does come from sentence structure, so fixing your syntax can help drop the grade level.

Keep weird words to a minimum. I give myself a goal to only use one strange and archaic word per page. Sometimes two if I really need it. But I space them out throughout the text and use ample context clues so someone shouldn't have to go look it up if they're reading carefully.

Put action first, then description. Tell us what to focus on before you elaborate with flowery metaphors. Both the fixed passages give us the details upfront. The second one starts with an action and adds some tension so we don't quite know what's happening before the big reveal, while the first one tells us immediately and then expands on it (a more Victorian thing).

Focus on small movements to tell a bigger story. Things like someone's hands shaking or their eyes watering will explain their emotional state without you having to tell us.

Include sensory details. In the fixed passages, we see dust motes dancing in the air, we see the colorful ink, we feel its weight. This is much more engaging without being purply.

Keep metaphors to a minimum. Metaphors work when they are interspersed with more action-oriented text; otherwise, it's not even clear what you're trying to describe. Pick a strong one and stick with it rather than cramming a bunch in at once.

Use dialogue. Dialogue is more engaging and allows you to tell us things without just stating it outright in the text.

If you'd like to read more of my work, consider buying my book!

9 Years Yearning is a gay coming-of-age romance set in a fantasy world. It follows Uileac Korviridi, a young soldier training at the War Academy. His primary motivations are honoring the memory of his late parents, protecting his little sister Cerie, and becoming a top-notch soldier.

However, there's a problem: Orrinir Relickim, a rough and tough fellow pupil who just can't seem to leave Uileac alone.

The book features poetry, descriptions of a beautiful country inspired by Mongolia, and a whole lot of tsundere vibes.

You can also check it out on Goodreads for a list of expanded distribution.

Be sure to preorder Pride Before a Fall, arriving January 1, 2025!

If you do purchase my book, don't forget to leave a review!

Reviews are vital for visibility on Amazon and help to support indie authors like me. Whenever you love a book, be sure to let the author know! It's much appreciated.

I've also created a masterlist of writing resources that you can peruse at your leisure, all for free.

Enjoy!

[thefloatingstone]

Not to be like "haha I'm better than you guys!!!" or elitist or anything because that very sincerely is NOT the point of this post.... but I never really understood people extremely love for Harry Potter.

I read them as they were coming out. Most of the time they came out soon enough that I was the same age as Harry. I liked them. They were cool. Goblet of Fire was my favourite and I was always happy to see what story the next book would bring but that's all it was. Interest to see the next story whenever it came out. Like a sitcom you enjoy but you didn't set your tv to record for you in case you missed it.

And then the word "Chosen one" was uttered and, just like that, I fucking lost all interest. Honestly there was "Chosen one" talk in the 4th book and already I was like

Honestly I think I liked Goblet of Fire the most because there was no friggen Quidditch. And there was less focus on the SCHOOL part of Harry Potter and more this weird Video game Quest setup which just appealed to me more.

In retrospect, I think that might be a big part of why I enjoyed it but never LOVED it like other people.

Like

"Oh boy my absolute biggest most favourite fantasy! THE BRITISH EDUCATION SYSTEM!!!!"

The fact that the books take place in a school seemed like a default to me because, well, most teenage focused cartoons and shows I watched had the main characters at school. Because they're teenagers. But the school wasn't why I enjoyed the books. The school was just a location. No I didn't want to go to Hogwarts. No I didn't want to get attached to a specific school house (although I feel it worth mentioning that when I was 13 I did the online house quiz thing on the official site and it said I was Hufflepuff so make of that what you will).

I really disliked whatever the one was that came after Goblet of Fire. So much so that it completely killed any and all enjoyment I had in the series. Which, considering I was only mildly entertained by them wasn't a massive loss or anything.

I know I read whichever book it was where Dumbledore died but I very genuinely cannot remember one single thing that happens in that book whatsoever. I read half of the Deathly Hallows after coming back from College and gave up because I wasn't enjoying any of it and I never picked the book up again.

I saw the first movie in theaters when I was 13 and I did not like it. It was visually very very dark and gloomy and just... extremely uninteresting to me. Idk how to explain it. The first book just felt so much more vibrant than what I was watching on screen.

I know I saw the 2nd movie although I have no memory of where or why. And I... THINK I saw the third one??? I think??? I'm actually not sure. But that's about where I just stopped and completely lost interest.

Because it wasn't very good.

They just weren't very good books.

They weren't TERRIBLE or anything like that but they were just so.... blah. The earlier ones 13 year old me enjoyed the one time I read each of them but I don't think 13 year old me had the best taste considering I also disliked the Princess Bride at this age.

But I was reading other books because I was a kid with ADHD in high school who desperately needed something stimulating to stop myself from going insane. And frankly, there were just far better books out there. Books I actually re-read. Books I borrowed from friends which ere just... so much better and more interesting.

So I just don't understand this insane appeal so many people have for it, even if they have severed that connection due to Jowling Kowling Rowling's bufoonery and showing herself to be a withered old crone with a shrivled heart and mind every time she opens her mouth.

I grew up with these books the same way as a lot of people. I was the exact age to go through the series' highest popularity and I just did not click with them despite reading them.

So seeing so many people my age or a little younger try and do their best to re-analyse and de-tangle what the books actually are and that... maybe.... just maybe.... they might not have been very good?? Maybe?? is very weird to me because I'm just like.

"Yeah they're overrated as hell and not that interesting."

It's a very weird thing to live through because it's like looking into a bizarro version of the world you remember living through... but not like THAT. I remember the Pokemon craze and yes, it was like that. I remember when anime started to become big and yes, it was like that. I remember DBZ airing and yes, it was like that.

But this insanity around Harry Potter while it was releasing?

Yeah I don't remember it being like that at all.

They were just mediocre books I read because I needed something to occupy my attention and eventually they got worse and worse and I just stopped reading them. That's all.

[snow-and-saltea]

shyly tucks hair behind my ear

if anyone would like to throw me a kofi for me to buy meds + therapy (a dreaded doctor's appt) i would appreciate it!! i would appreciate anything rlly!!

i will write you a love letter <3333 or try to compose a poem in your honour <3333

see ya love u stay safe ok

throwing this out there just in case anyone would like to help me out hiii

i am in a very difficult position and i can't really afford meds for the next few months for my antidepressants to last me through till end of july

edit june 5: I CAN NOW AFFORD THEM FOR THE NEXT COUPLE OF MONTHS + THERAPY..... THANK YOU FRIENDS !!!!!!!!!

[tmariea]

You Cut Through All the Noise

Fandom: MDZS/Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation/The Untamed

Pairing: Xiyao

Characters: Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao

Rating: G

Summary:

There are many things one cannot say to A-Yao. Xichen had tried once, saying, ‘The night is beautiful and I am here with you. That is all I need to celebrate.’ A-Yao had replied with precise and perfect courtesy, exactly as expected from one sect leader to another in response to a compliment. Scripted. Exactly what Xichen did not want him to be. So he said different words now - a holiday, or a successful night hunt, or the completion of a project - and tried to let his face and his actions say all the rest. --- A look into Zewu-jun's and Lianfang-zun's late night talks, featuring gifts, gossip, and quite a lot of yearning.

Read on AO3

This was written as part of the @xiyaogotcha4gaza for @eternal-brainrot's prompt: xiyao spending an evening together at jinlintai or cloud recesses drinking tea, gossiping, etc. just them being able to put down their burdens and perfectly crafted appearances for the evening in a way that they cannot with anyone else and having a silly side of themselves that they arent able to show to anyone else. laughing together!! lxc giggling!!! maybe lxc staying up past lan curfew despite getting sleepy because he wants to make his time with jgy last as long as possible. sleepy lxc being a bit sappy maybe? maybe the other ends up falling asleep in whoever's room they’re in and ending up staying the night there?

Well, tooth-rotting fluff with a side of serious yearning is my bread and butter, so it was a match made in heaven for me! I hope you enjoy!

Title from Bastille's 'The Anchor'

The door to Jin Guangyao’s rooms was unlocked, but his sworn brother was not in sight when Xichen pushed it open one-handed, keeping careful balance on the tray of tea, wine and cups in his other.  The sliding doors to the private garden beyond were open just a crack though, enough to give him hint of where A-Yao could be found, without letting in too much of the cooling night air.

A-Yao was indeed in the garden, settled at a small table beneath the pavilion with his back to Xichen.  He was wrapped in a thick, fur-lined cloak against the late-fall chill— much less severe than in Cloud Recesses, but always still enough to bother A-Yao.  Xichen took a private moment to feel the disappointment at a lost opportunity to ask A-Yao if he was cold and drape his own outer robe around his shoulders.  Then he stepped out of the door, and closed it audibly behind him.  A-Yao turned at the noise, a smile on his face which softened into a much more genuine one as he caught sight of who was at his door.

“Er-ge, good evening,” he said, and beckoned him over.  And then when he noticed the tray, “Oh, you are a guest, you should have allowed me to call for refreshments!”

Xichen stepped down from the porch and walked between the neatly groomed beds of peonies to join A-Yao at the pavilion.  “Gifts from Gusu,” he explained without remorse for his tray, setting it down on the table, and taking a seat at the side adjacent to A-Yao.  He turned the bottle of wine to display the label proclaiming it Emperor’s Smile.  The tea, too, was a blend native to the region.

A-Yao gave him a look which conveyed ‘that was not necessary,’ over the top of a current of genuine pleasure.  They’d had conversations to that end many times, until Xichen had finally offered to stop if it made him uncomfortable, and A-Yao had remained suspiciously silent.  Xichen had just smiled wide and accepted his win.  Even still, A-Yao gave him a demure look of thanks, perhaps for his own peace of mind.

Now, instead of more protests he asked, “What is the occasion?” and reached for the pot and cake of tea to begin brewing.

There are many things one cannot say to A-Yao.  Xichen had tried once, saying, ‘The night is beautiful and I am here with you.  That is all I need to celebrate.’  A-Yao had replied with precise and perfect courtesy, exactly as expected from one sect leader to another in response to a compliment.  Scripted.  Exactly what Xichen did not want him to be.  So he said different words now - a holiday, or a successful night hunt, or the completion of a project - and tried to let his face and actions say all the rest.  He thought he’d gotten better at that with practice.

Today he said, “The success of Jin Ling’s party,” as he peeled back the lid of the wine jar to pour A-Yao a cup.  It wasn’t even breaking a rule to say so - that was the reason he had come to Lanling today after all, and the party a testament to A-Yao’s organizational skills, as every event held here was these days.

“And why would er-ge find Jin Ling’s fourth birthday to be worthy of such celebration?” A-Yao asked with a look that Xichen chose to interpret as ‘I appreciate the sentiment but we both know you are making excuses.’

“It seems the other sect leaders are determined to fawn, why should I not do the same?”

“I find er-ge to be far less likely to travel with a herd, or turn a white fluffy tail and run at the slightest provocation.”

The thought of the other sect leaders bolting from the hall this afternoon as soon as Jin Ling had begun to wind himself up to a tantrum, contrasted with A-Yao’s perfectly serene face as he said it, startled Xichen into a burst of laughter.  

A-Yao’s smile grew until his dimples were showing, and as always, Xichen was consumed with a gripping temptation reach out and trace them with reverent fingertips.  Instead, he contented himself with taking the cup of tea held out to him, letting his fingers linger far longer than necessary against A-Yao’s before bringing the cup to his mouth to drink.

They spent the time while drinking their respective tea and wine talking about the party anyway.  A-Yao had witty things to say about every present Jin Ling had been given, never outright disrespectful, but only because his turns of phrase were so very clever that Xichen doubted the guests would have realized even if A-Yao had said it to their faces.  Oh, how he wished he could watch him say it to their faces.

When the teapot was nearly empty, Xichen set down his cup and said, “I hope A-Yao will forgive the presumption of one more gift.”

“Er-ge is far too generous!” A-Yao said, his voice admonishing but his dimples gave him away.  He shook his head and added, “You should be careful, lest someone take advantage of that nature of yours.  I should say no, if only to keep you on your toes.  What would you do then?”

Xichen hummed, pretending to think on it for a moment.  “I would be disappointed to not get to dote on A-Yao the way he deserves.”  And then, feeling bold in the way he rarely did outside of these nights where it seemed the world shrunk down to only the two of them, added with a confiding smile, “And then I would keep the gift for a different day.  But, I don’t think my A-Yao will refuse, will he?”

A-Yao opened his mouth and then closed it then, in an uncharacteristic lapse of control.  It was hard to tell in the golden lamplight, but Xichen could swear his cheeks colored as his eyes tracked to the side.  “No,” he said, and then cleared his throat.  “Your A-Yao will not.”

This time, it was Xichen’s turn to feel his ears heat as he realized what he had said.  To hopefully distract from that line of conversation - and the fact that he was loathe to take it back, and may even want to say it again immediately, my A-Yao - he reached into his qiankun sleeve and drew out a roll of silk mounted with a wooden frame at top and bottom.  He rolled it out in A-Yao’s direction, for his inspection.

Perhaps this boldness had been simmering in his blood for a while now.  He had painted Cloud Recesses for A-Yao many times before, as expected when it was his most common reference material.  This painting, though, depicted the small garden and stand of pines visible from the back porch of the Hanshi, with the lazy stream trickling between them.  It was not a sight that many people got to see, something only those in Xichen’s greatest confidences would recognize.  

A-Yao knew it immediately.  His eyes softened as they scanned the ink strokes on silk canvas, and then his lips parted just slightly again in surprise for the second time.  Xichen wanted to kiss them with a desire swirling deep in his belly.  Instead he contented himself with watching A-Yao raise a hand and use one elegant finger to trace in the air, never quite touching, the small black shape beneath the trees.  Just a silhouette, barely a curl of ink.

The last time that the two of them had met, they A-Yao had mentioned that he was considering getting a spiritual dog for Jin Ling.  ‘Terribly useful creatures, spiritual dogs,’ he had said, and then added, ‘shame though, I really do prefer cats.’  And so when A-Yao left, Xichen had painted, in almost a haze, his garden and into it placed a black cat.

This was another of the things that one could not say to A-Yao, that he knew the most intimate corners of Xichen’s life, that he belonged there, that his presence left ripples even when he was far away and gone.  So Xichen brought gifts, and painted, and treasured the moments they had together.  

And he thought that he could read some of it back in A-Yao’s clear gaze as he met his eyes unwaveringly and said, “It’s a beautiful work er-ge.  I will hang it in my study.”

“Thank you, A-Yao’s praise means much.”

Xichen felt a little thrill too, to read between the words and see that A-Yao intended to display openly all of the unsaid meanings between them.  And that the world would look, but never see.

If he let himself, he could fall into that gaze, into all of the unsaid words.  He could let it carry him forward, around the scant barrier of the corner of the table between them, until he could taste the unsaid words from A-Yao’s tongue.  He wondered if they would taste like wine.

To keep himself from doing that, he asked instead, “Has A-Yao made a decision on the spiritual dog for your venerable nephew?”

Xichen could feel the moment the tension between them broke, like a summer storm over the mountains, with A-Yao’s bright, surprised laugh at the thought of a venerable four year old.  Xichen tucked that laugh away into a corner of his heart, and let himself breathe out a long, steadying breath.  It wouldn’t do to dwell on the things he might wish from A-Yao, and forget the time they were granted.

“Ah, yes, I do think I will give one to him.  It will be a good exercise in responsibility, and a companion.”

Xichen knew that A-Yao worried about the way the other children in Jinlintai reacted to Jin Ling, influenced by the way their elders would tell them to keep a respectful distance in one breath and then turn around and gossip with the next.  It was a mixture liable to curdle with time.  He didn’t know if it was better in Lotus Pier, but he hoped so.  

“What are Jiang-zongzhu’s thoughts?” he asked, hoping to let A-Yao give voice to his delightfully sharp opinions on Jiang Wanyin’s parenting style, and varied emotional outbursts.

Instead, A-Yao raised his cup to take another sip of his wine, and from behind his sleeve told him coyly, “I haven’t said.”

“A-Yao, you wouldn’t!” Xichen knew he sounded delightfully scandalized.

“Er-ge, I don’t know what you could possibly mean!” A-Yao intoned in his best impression of Nie Huaisang.  “Jiang-zongzhu loves dogs, doesn’t he?  It should be a nice surprise.”

“A-Yao!” Xichen said again, losing the battle against his own laughter and unable to force anything else out.

“Such a nice surprise, in fact,” he continued, the dimples in his face deepening as he obviously fought to keep his voice steady, “that it might even lift his spirits in a trying time.  Perhaps if he were first to learn when we all must attend Yao-zongzhu’s daughter’s wedding next spring.”

“Oh no,” Xichen said faintly.

“It will only just serve as repayment for all the swear words Jiang-zongzhu was so kind as to teach our darling nephew the last time he was in Lotus Pier,” A-Yao said, holding onto his highest dignity, before he dissolved into giggles too.

The giggles were not dignified.  They rose and fell in pitch, interspersed with lower chuckles and higher peals.  Lan Xichen was not sure if another person alive beside himself had ever heard A-Yao laugh like this before, and he was so in love with him that sometimes it felt like his golden core was trying to claw its way out through his heart.  

Or maybe it was just that he couldn’t quite catch his breath without starting to laugh again.

It took a little while for the both of them to calm down well enough to speak normally, but when they did, A-Yao said, “Come, we still have a little time yet.”  He poured himself a final glass of wine, and stood to lead them to another set of cushions laid at the edge of the pavilion’s floor.  He set down his cup and picked up a small book which had been strategically placed next to his cushion, that Xichen hadn’t noticed until now.  “This one had discovered a new book of poetry, if er-ge might be interested in finishing the night with a recitation?” he said, turning the cover so Xichen could see the title.

Xichen looked up at the stars and the moon overhead, framed by the dark silhouettes of trees along the garden wall.  It was getting on towards hai time, but he said anyway, “Please, go ahead.  I do not mind staying awake a while longer.”  He kept behind his teeth the words, ‘I would listen to you read beautiful words every day if I could.  And then I would want it to be your voice that lulls me to sleep each night.’

A-Yao gave him a skeptical look from the corner of his eye, but he opened the book and began to read.  He got through several poems, lovely and indicative of A-Yao’s well-read taste, before Xichen let his eyes drift closed.  Only to concentrate better on A-Yao’s voice against the background of the late night sounds of the garden.

“Tsk, er-ge you are so bad at this!” A-Yao scolded. 

Xichen blinked his eyes open again, and made the argument, “Every sect leader must be acquainted with spending more time on work than his sleeping hours would allow.  It is no hardship to spend the same on pleasure.”

“Oh yes, I am sure.  And how many of those hours has Lan-zongzhu spent by waking early instead?”

The rules said not to lie.  In absence of the waking brain power to come up with anything better, he remained silent.  A-Yao laughed at him, so fondly that Xichen had no choice but to return a rueful smile.

“Here, I’m not about to have you falling off the porch and hitting your head.  Lie down.”  He pulled off his plush, fur-lined robe and folded it into a pillow.  Instead of setting it on the porch beside them, he placed it in his own lap in invitation.

Any pleasantly polite response Xichen could make to that deserted him, and he felt suddenly more alert.  Ears blazing and with the sense that his words were distinctly clumsy on his tongue, he asked, “Will A-Yao not be cold?” in an exact mirror of his earlier desires that was not lost on him. “Here you should take my outer robe.”

A-Yao scowled up in his direction, but Xichen could tell that he wasn’t putting any real heat in it.  “I’m not so fragile as you think.”

No, A-Yao really wasn’t.  He had experienced things that many of the Jianghu, even after being through a war, could only imagine and come through it still steadfast.  Xichen also knew that he frequently worked through pain even now, for all that he so infrequently caught a glimpse of it beyond A-Yao’s perfectly crafted face.  The cold made it worse.  “Won’t you allow your er-ge to make sure you are comfortable, though?  It’s a lovely night out to me, much warmer than Gusu is at this time of year.”

A-Yao didn’t say anything in reply, but the edges of his lips did tilt just the tiniest measure further into a smile.  Xichen took it as permission to pull his arms from his loose outer robe and drape it over A-Yao’s shoulders instead.  It made him look just that much smaller, with his own gold colors still just peeking through but almost subsumed by swirling white and blue.  Xichen was absolutely going to do something embarrassing if he kept looking at the sight, like lick his lips.  Instead, he turned away and stretched himself out on his back at the edge of the platform, so he could lay his head in A-Yao’s lap.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could swear he saw A-Yao hug the robe to himself after pulling his arms through the too-long sleeves, but he could not be sure.  As a concession to all of the other things he wished to do or say, Xichen reached out to hold A-Yao’s forearm, the easiest part of him in reach, and give it a light squeeze before letting his eyes fall closed.

Xichen dozed for a while after that, with the feeling of the fall breeze cool on his face, but A-Yao warm beneath and beside him.  It was too late in the season for most insects, but the trees rustled in the distance, a calming, lulling sound.  Given half a chance, he would fall asleep here.

He had not quite done so when careful fingers brushed across his face in the ghost of a touch.  When he did not startle or pull away, it seemed A-Yao became bolder; the fingers began to massage at his temples, his forehead, at the tension at the tops of his cheekbones and around his eyes.  They worked around his ribbon, always careful not to touch.  Xichen gave a sigh of pleasure, and received a faint laugh from above him in reply.

Eventually, A-Yao must have been satisfied with his work, because he stopped massaging.  Instead, he just ran his fingers across Xichen’s brow in a rhythmic pattern.  He was so relaxed and content that it took him a moment to realized that A-Yao was tracing skin just beneath his ribbon, in constant parallel.  He would not touch without permission, Xichen knew, but he could, he could; it had always been A-Yao’s to touch, from the moment they met.  The sudden rush of wanting this inspired was so heady that Xichen stiffened just slightly.

Naturally, A-Yao noticed.  “There, you are er-ge, back with me?”

The game up, he didn’t have much choice but to open his eyes to the sight of A-Yao leaning over him slightly, silhouetted against the night sky.  One strand of hair hung over his shoulder, dark against blue over goldenrod robes, and his smile was far too soft and serene for his dimples.  He was the most beautiful thing Xichen had ever seen.  Instead of any of that, he said, “good evening,” in the warmest voice he could possibly muster, and was content to catch what might just be a tinge of pink in A-Yao’s cheeks.

“Alright, I think it might be time for Lan-zongzhu to retire for the night.”

Xichen did not miss the use of his title, the chance he had been given to ask, ‘but what of er-ge?’  He would play this game, but not with such obvious bait.  Instead, he tilted his head to look past the edge of the pavilion and judge the position of the moon in the sky.  “Yes, it is perhaps later than is proper for a Lan to still be awake, and seen wandering the halls or gardens of Jinlintai.”

A-Yao gave him such a withering look that Xichen nearly started giggling again.  He held it back with the help of years of practice keeping his face serene and neutral.  “Yes, quite.”  A-Yao’s voice was dry enough to cure a fish, and so obviously affected.

“Then, will this noble and filial san-di help his er-ge save some face, and let him spend the night here?”

A-Yao’s nose wrinkled up and his mouth tilted into a smile again.  “I think your face is plenty thick, er-ge!”

“Mn, one must not tell lies.”

A-Yao made a noise of disbelief, but his face softened even further as he reached out one finger to run it below Xichen’s ribbon again.  “Alright, you can stay.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Only One I See

Sequel to One is the Loneliest Number, One on One, One Little Thing

Warnings: none, Professor Steve (that’s a warning in itself)

Dunno if I’ll be doing an exhaustive drabble series but there’s at least this. Let me know if you’re enjoying it or not and any thoughts you have. Love you!

“Nothing going on,” Inez nudges you as she stands with her copy of Wuthering Heights, “you’re a terrible liar. And so is the professor.”

“What are you talking about?” You keep your voice low as you shove your book in your bag, “I wish you’d stop.”

“Oh, come on,” she looks around at the dozen other members who showed up that week. You felt a sense of relief at seeing so many, a feeling that mirrored Steve’s, no, Professor’s expression, “we’re sitting here arguing over sexy ghost man and he’s zooot!” She makes a pinch motion with all her fingers, “pinpointed, right on you.”

“N-no,” you sniff, “I didn’t… I didn’t even say much–”

“Exactly,” she hikes her messenger bag onto her shoulder as you zip your pink polka dot backpack, “you don’t have to say anything, little miss brownie.”

“Ew, no, no, he’s…” you glance over at Rogers, another student, Lulu, stands in front of him with her copy of Bronte open. His eyes meet yours and he smiles, tweaking a brow at you, “he’s our professor. He’s…” you step closer to her and hide your whisper behind your hand, “old.”

“Not that old,” she chirps, “come on. He’s what forty? Maybe a few years over, and he’s constantly surrounded by young girls– case and point.”

She tosses another look in his direction and you see how Ainsley leans on him and giggles. He seems slightly bothered as he lets out a deep breath and pats her hand as he coaxes her away, all the while he continues to make his point. You catch a few words, something about Catherine. 

“Look around you, sunshine, do you see a single male specimen here?”

“Well,” you pull the straps of your bags up your arms, “Dani is nonbinary so–”

“Yeah but they still like dick,” she giggles.

“Oh, god, why do you have to be so gross?”

“Please tell me you weren’t that one in high school? The prude? You’re cute, I’m sure at least one guy–”

“This is college,” you insist, trying to restrain your embarrassment, “I told you, and I don’t want to keep saying it, but I’m not interested in Professor Rogers.”

“Alright, alright,” she raises her hands defensively, “so how about–”

“Excuse me,” the deep tone undercuts her detour and you pout helplessly as you turn reluctantly to the professor. You hope he didn’t hear any of that, “before you go, I found this good app for these sort of things. Helps track your reading,” he explains as he holds out a clipboard, “I’m just getting phone numbers to add everyone to the group.”

“Oh, BookSnoop, yeah I’ve heard of that,” Inez says cheerily and sends you a guilty look, “uh, here, let me give you my number.”

She takes the clipboard first and scribbles down her number then hands it to you. You do the same and give it back, the brush of fingertips with the professor making you wince, “thanks, professor.”

“Of course, and… I had an idea. I was talking to management at Marge’s, I might be able to host one of these things there.”

“Oh, that’s so cool,” you say, “I might get a bit distracted by the sweets though.”

“Count us in,” Inez grumbles, “I hate these old classrooms. They smell like khaki.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Rogers appears slightly perplexed by her comment, “well, thanks for signing up,” he hugs the clipboard against one side of his chest, “and don’t forget about your book review next class.”

“Uh, how could we forget?” Inez chuckles nervously and grabs your elbow, “excuse us, professor, we’re late for, uh… a party.”

“Okay, er, um, be safe,” he backs away awkwardly, “see you in class.”

“Buh bye,” Inez toss over her shoulder as she urges you to the door and you barely squeeze through the door ahead of her, nearly crushing against her in the tight frame.

“What’s going on? A party?” You sputter as you plant your feet.

“Look, I totally forgot about the uh, book review, so how do you feel about an all-nighter?”

“In,” you exclaim, “are you kidding me?”

“Come on, I need you to keep me awake,” she whines, “pweez, pwetty pweez, I wuv you, you know that right?”

“Don’t do that,” you sneer, “fine, I’ll help you but I swear, next time, you’re on your own. You know, I have other classes. History papers I don’t want to write.”

“Well that’s convenient, because I haven’t done Laufeyson’s paper either,” she cackles, “it’s fate.”

📃

You rub your eyes and yawn over your cold coffee cup. Inez is barely awake, her head in her hand as she scrolls on her laptop. You feel like you’re looking in a mirror, so tired your head feels like a boulder.

You scratch out notes about the Communist Revolution in your notebook, trying to make sense of it all in your fatigue fuzzed mind. As you put your pen down to stretch your cramped fingers, the subtle clack of Inez’ keyboard tapping in the silent library, your phone buzzes. The noise is loud, jarring in the lull.

She’s unbothered as her lips move with the words she types. You wonder if she’s even typing words. You have class at noon so you might get a few hours before you have to weave your way back onto campus. You snatch up your phone and unlock it, leaning back dangerously in the heavily wooden chair.

‘Hope you got home safe’ the text reads, the number unfamiliar. 

You put the phone down, assuming it’s a wrong number. You trail your fingers over your brow as Inez chews her thumb.

“What another way to say therefore, I think I’ve typed that a thousand times,” she murmurs.

“Thus, and so, consequently…” you say as you phone vibes again.

‘You didn’t drink too much, did you?’

You scowl at the screen and thumb in your response lazily, ‘I think you have the wrong number’.

Three dots appear almost as soon as you hit send. ‘It’s Steve. Checking in. Making sure you’re okay. That’s all.’

For a moment, you’re confused. Then you remember jotting down your number on the board. 

You peek up at Inez, she’s swaying before her laptop. Should you tell her? No, she’d just tease you again. He’s just nice. Maybe a bit too concerned.

‘I’m fine, professor. Just going to sleep. Good night’. There, that’ll put an end to it.

‘Sweet dreams’ he replies. You don’t answer but another message comes in. A pink heart. 

You lock the phone and sigh. You’re too tired. Besides, you know how older people are with emojis. Your mother kept sending the cry laugh emoji in very serious conversations.

“Inez,” you say gruffly, “let’s go. I need sleep.”

[swallowtailed]

palisade 50 / finalisade pt. 5

structure thoughts

okay, i have a lot of thoughts re structure this week. i had these last ep too, but i wanted to give it another episode to see how a few things shook out, because fatt tends to move quite slowly in that way. (also i had just gotten cursed with dawn work and had no brainroom for real thoughts.) i do still think there's room for some of these things to develop, and fatt tends to hang together much better in retrospect. but this is my read right now.

the reintroduction of cas'alear & co: i am content to wait a bit for some interaction with them or some explanation of why they're here, because palisade is currently being forced through seven separate funnels and a brand new problem won't fit somewhere instantly. that said. bro we better find out what's up. they're physically on the blue channel, that can't just get handwaved

and re material circumstances of blue channel & crew--to my eye the dice valuation of relationships is causing some real siloing off of characters and storylines. which is really unfortunate because the bonds between the crew were a huge strength of palisade and it just feels like an oversight to miss that in the finalisade. (this is also a factor of not doing a ton of rp in this game. one thing i'm really missing is bringing the misfortune options into the result of a scene.)

and on a similar note, i really liked august's scene with righteousness, but it could've been even better if palisade had engaged more with delegate characters and what it means to be a delegate throughout the season. instead this & a bunch of other thematic threads are being advanced way more actively than before now that it's the finalisade, which feels kind of hollow.

i also really wish eclectic was still around. having had a leap scene, i've solidly come down that it was a bad narrative decision to kill eclectic. introducing a new (to the season) character in the middle of the finalisade, on top of a bunch of other new/er pcs, was always gonna be awkward, and leap doesn't work here. his goal, to take kesh for every last cent, has a very similar problem to clem's--kesh isn't there. which is less of a direct issue when the end goal is just "steal", but it's still a goal from a partizan paradigm, not a palisade one. you know? like, leap's fixated on kesh and kesh is a shrinking speck on a planet with new and different problems.

also ideally leap's reintroduction would create contrast for the ways brnine and thisbe have changed since partizan. maybe we will get to that later.

hey i actually think talking about a justice system would be extremely relevant given how many characters have goals in that direction?

i think overall my sense is that finalisade feels disconnected from the rest of the season due to all the character changes and some rushed thematic work.

anyway obv this is fatt so there's every chance all of the above will be resolved by the end of finalisade but from here i'm feeling a little doubtful

various other notes

jesset's gun arm! i stopped to wonder which it was back when that happened, but since it wasn't addressed i figured it was intended to be his prosthetic arm. wild.

the autonomy reveal... love when a reveal is so well seeded and rings so true that you have to be like "hang on was that not already canon". very cool. very perennial. miserable, also.

taking a minute though to sit and think about perennial and loneliness. also taking a minute to think the phrase "did perennial effectively utilize girl power in creating autonomy itself".

re cori's scene: the suggestion that perennial's consecration might change the flora and fauna really caught my ear. not beating the "millennium break is also colonizing palisade" allegations. it seems like they went another direction (just the sky changing?) but that rang really weird to me, especially when the colonial angle of gardens wrt the bilats had just been raised a few episodes ago.

very much appreciated janine taking the time to explicitly bring up the framing of unction's fate as something that would, in-universe, be a question and a conversation

[pixelkip]

Curiosities of Lotus Asia ch. 35 has an Aibo in it and I'm gonna be a nerd about it.

Ok I have no idea just how many touhou fans are aware of Laika, Rinnosuke's robot dog introduced in CoLA ch35 but if you're not aware, he finds this robot and it causes all sorts of chaos and wrecks his shop, and they eventually find out its possessed by a puppy spirit. If you're at all curious, go read it on the touhou wiki if you haven't already.

How do I know for sure that it's an Aibo? Well, on top of the fact it definitely resembles one, Sumireko suggests naming it Aibo and in BAiJR Aya literally says it's an aibo. This is one of the few things she probably didn't lie about in this book bc how the hell would she otherwise even know what an aibo is TO be able to lie about it.

(Side note, the official name is just "AIBO", im not sure why she calls it AIBO buddy here, maybe bc aibo is a pun on the japanese word meaning buddy but why tack it onto the end? Idk)

Ok for those who don't know what an aibo is, it's a series of robot dogs Sony made, there were several models released between 1999-2006, and later had the ers-1000 in 2018 which is still available (and I personally have an ers-111 :3)

Pictured: aibo models ers-310, 220, 110, 210, and 7

Ok, so, what kind of AIBO is Laika then?

This is where it gets.. confusing.

this line from sumireko would imply it's an ers-110, as it was the very first model of aibo ever released.

But.. laika doesn't look much like a 110

Ok the way she's drawn doesn't look that close to ANY real model of aibo, but the drawing makes her look more like a 210, with the (probably) white coloration, visor shape, and upturned ears.

(110 vs 210)

It's also possible she doesnt resemble any model too closely to avoid copyright issues, but even then she visually resembles a 210 much more than a 110.

Other than that ch35 doesn't give us much else to determine her model, she doesn't display any particular behaviors that would indicate it, rinnosuke says her expressions can't be read implying her eye lights are non functional, and that she's completely silent. Aibos LOVE to make noise, and usually communicate through music and tones, so it's likely the animal spirit is simply pup-petting (hehe) a nonfunctional aibo body. Rinnosuke also mentions that it's begun to actually listen to him, which would imply a 210 or later (110 and 111 do not have voice recognition) if it weren't for the possibility that again, it's just the puppy controlling it.

So there's a few possibilities here.

- zun didn't depict her to be any particular model to not get smited by sony's lawyers

- she is a 110 but for whatever reason, be it a miscommunication or just zun or the artist deciding it didn't matter that much, that isn't reflected in the art

- sumireko is wrong, and she is a 210

Or maybe she's just a 110 with some cool customization, like paint and custom ear pieces. Then again, she did pass into gensokyo meaning she's been totally forgotten, and that seems less likely if someone took the time to customize her.

So now im curious. Given the evidence, what do YOU think laika is? Even if you didn't know shit about aibo before this post, hell, ESPECIALLY if you didn't, what do you think?

Personally I kinda like to think she's a 210 bc I think they're neat. Maybe even a gold 210, since the yellow tinge in the cover art makes her look like the very pale gold of the pale gold 210s. But as an existing aibo enjoyer I'm a little biased

I really hope laika gets to come back at some point, I have a little bit of hope since beast spirits as a plot point have become a lot more significant. She seems like a very good doggy :]

If you for some reason read all of this thank you for indulging my insanity

[tarjeismoeworknews]

Tarjei talks about Furia, Skam and student life in new Dagbladet article.

Google translation of the article:

"- Weird to talk about

Tarjei Sandvik Moe is back after deprioritizing acting for the past three years.

SOON ON THE SCREEN: Tarjei Sandvik Moe will soon be seen in a new season of the thriller series "Furia". Photo: Heiko Junge / NTB

Actor Tarjei Sandvik Moe (24) achieved international smash success with the youth series "Skam" in 2015. NRK's ​​series third season dealt with Sandvik Moe's character, the high school student Isak, and his path towards accepting himself as gay.

The series won many awards, and the 24-year-old was, among other things, nominated for best male actor during "Gullruten" in 2017. He did not go home empty-handed, and walked away with the audience award together with "Skam" colleague Henrik Holm (28).

AWARD WON: Henrik Holm and Tarjei Sandvik Moe received an award during the Gullruten in 2017. Photo: Marit Hommedal / NTB

Since then, the actor has taken part in a number of productions, including "Tainted(Skitten snø)", "Possession(Forbannelsen)" and "An affair(En affære)".

New role

On the top floor of the Munch Museum is a bar with large windows that fill the room with sunlight.

At a table, Dagbladet is waiting for the actor on the occasion of the press day for season two of the thriller series "Furia".

AROUND EUROPE: The series has been recorded in several locations in Europe. Tarjei Sandvik Moe has the role of political adviser. Photo: Prime Video

Sandvik Moe comes walking with a big smile on his face before extending his hand and saying hello. He takes his place opposite Dagbladet.

In season two of the Prime series, Sandvik Moe plays a political adviser. It meant a new world to get into.

- How do you prepare for such a role?

- I try to think about what kind of energy and rhythm he should bring to the scenes. How to carry my body, carry my voice, my hands. How does he walk? And learn the lines so that they sit well in your mouth, and try to understand what is at stake. And then come to the recording, listen, be present and have fun.

- Crazy

The days of filming offered a lot of action, and there is one scene in particular that the actor remembers particularly well.

- There was a scene that we recorded here in Oslo, out in the city. Then I would run. The camera operator filmed this with roller skates on. At full speed backwards on roller skates! I thought that was very cool, says the 24-year-old with great enthusiasm.

The main roles in the series are played by ring foxes Ine Marie Wilmann (39) and Pål Sverre Hagen (43). Sandvik Moe was disappointed when he read the script and realized that he would spend little time working with the latter.

- What I think was a bit weird is that Pål Sverre plays in this series, and he is an actor I think is incredibly talented, but I don't have any scenes with him. Our characters have nothing to do with each other, explains the actor.

- I got to meet him a bit on set. But I've met him before. We were counter-nominated once on Gullruten, and then of course he won. No big surprise. But then I talked to him a bit in Bergen many years ago. So it was the great sadness that they couldn't find a way to make our characters meet.

2017: Pål Sverre Hagen and Tarjei Sandvik Moe during the Gullruten seven years ago. Photo: Gorm Kallestad / NTB

- Hard to say

"Furia" is one of many productions the star has taken part in since we met him as Isak in "Skam" almost ten years ago.

- How do you think "Skam" has influenced your career?

- No idea. It is hard to say. I have been privileged in the way that I have been able to do a lot of acting work, and I hope that I would have been able to do it anyway. I have had an intention long before that, and knew that I was passionate about performing arts and film, and I have a strong drive to keep at it. That is what I think is the most important thing for me. I am passionate about what I do.

MET THE PRINCESS: Tarjei Sandvik Moe with Crown Princess Mette-Marit, Crown Prince Haakon and Princess Kate during a visit to Hartvig Nissen's school in Oslo, known as the "Shame" school. Photo: Terje Pedersen / NTB

Sandvik Moe is nevertheless open to the fact that NRK's ​​success may have opened doors for him.

- So I won't be naive either, it was certainly an advantage that I got a TV role when I was young. But I'm me anyway. It's weird to talk about alternate realities. What if you were born in another part of the world? I relate to the reality that is here, says the actor with a smile.

About student life: - Absolutely wonderful

Although the 24-year-old has already managed to build up an impressive acting CV, it has been important for Sandvik Moe to study. He is currently a student at the Norwegian Film School in Lillehammer.

- Now I'm studying film in my final year and I think it's absolutely wonderful. So I appreciate the reality I am allowed to be a part of. Then all the other realities get to live their own lives.

- How do you combine study assignments, a social life and intense recording around Europe with "Furia"?

- I have done much smaller plays in the last three years, because I have lived in Lillehammer and studied film scripts. I have prioritized it, because it has been important for me to study there. So I did this a bit at the same time, he explains.

- It was stressful, but it went well!"

[mysteryideasgroup]

MSA X Scooby-Doo and the Witch's Ghost Chapter 7: The Backstories of Sarah Ravencroft and Whisp Galloway/Kate remembers her ancestor, Caleb Stein who lives in this wonderful place

At Ben's house and Flik's mansion.

Velma: Wow so this is where it all started.

Matilda: It seems all artists have their humble beginnings.

Sarah: Affirmative. Even horror writers, it seems.

Ben Ravencroft: Yes. I wrote all my early novels here. Now I spend most of my time in Europe, but I come back once a year to recharge my batteries.

Flik Galloway: Right, I wrote my horror books. Horror Novels... true.

Lewis: Oh, you mean like Arthur?

Arthur: Er, negative, Lewis. I think it was a figure of speech.

Cera: Oh. Silly me.

Ecole: Right, see it...

Mystery Teams had told Ben about the Teams earlier. He was surprisingly cool with it. Velma is near Ben’s desk chair.

Ben: Go ahead, Velma, sit down.

She does so and starts to type on his keyboard.

Velma: Jinkies, this is a dream come true.

Matilda Flik's desk chair.

Flik: Matilda, sit down.

She does so and starts to type on his keyboard.

Matilda: Oh sweet, dream true.

Daphne, Fred, Mystery Teams and Others are looking around. They see framed pictures of the book covers for “Dead Mall”, “The Caretakers Coffin” and “Skull Cap”.

Daphne: You have some cool things here Ben.

Fred: I'll say.

Stephanie: I quite agree. “Dead Mall”, “The Caretakers Coffin”, “Skull Cap” These were all books he wrote. Delightfully ghastly.

Maxy: Not really, we all don’t have to like the same thing, I suppose.

Fred walks toward a portrait over the fireplace of a woman in 1650s clothing.

Fred: So whose portrait is this?

Lewis, Bart, Marie, Marco, Michael, and Others noticed that the portrait over the fireplace of a woman in 1650s clothing.

Lewis: What’s that woman?

Ben Ravencroft: This is Sarah Ravencroft. I think it was painted by a grateful patient.

Flik Galloway: I think it’s Whisp Galloway. I think she was painted by a patient. See it...

Flashback starts.

Ben Ravencroft: Of course, she wasn't very popular with the town's doctors. Sarah was untraditional in her approach to medicine. She was a Wiccan.

Flik Galloway: She is very doctor-skilled... she heals patients. She is a Wiccan.

Fred Jones: Say what?

Lewis: ? What?

Sarah: A Wiccan, Fred. They were people who were in tuned with the forces of nature and use them for healing purposes.

Ben: Exactly, she believed in using herbs and other natural elements to draw from the Earth's powers to heal the sick. Sarah helped many people who could not afford medical treatment. She treated her patients under a large oak tree, which she believed to have healing powers.

Flik: Right, she has healed her patients. She has her journal... she has her powers to heal skills...

Sarah Quartz: Hm... I think not true... no, it’s fake stories...

Vera: Hmm... not real... it’s fake.

Vicki: 2 Females have healed Abilities? Hmm... fake...

Kate Stein: Agreed, I think what happened to the 2 healers? ... I think fake...

Flashback ends.

Kate Stein remembers her ancestor, Caleb Stein lived wonderful place

Kate Stein: Right, I think it’s my ancestor of Caleb Stein who lived here in the past.

Vivi: Hmm. I’m no expert on religion, but aren’t there still Wiccans to this day?

Arthur: I believe you’re right.

Velma: Hey, I saw a huge oak tree like that in the town square.

Vicki: Yes, my teams and I saw it as we were entering town.

Marco Silver: As did my team and I.

Ben: I've already search the area around that tree, but never found anything. That book could finally prove Sarah's innocents and that she was a Wiccan not an evil witch.

Velma: Wiccans have been misunderstood, accused of sorcery. In fact, the word "witch" comes from "Wicca."

Ben: I'm impressed, Velma.

Michael Jones: Well, Ben, you’ll be happy to know that not ALL witches are evil in this day and age.

Ben: I’m glad. You know doing research on Sarah and the wiccans lead me to read almost everything about the world of superstation. That's how I started writing stories to frighten people.

Sarah Quartz: And what marvelously frightening stories they are.

----

For @laurasanchez36

AUs Alternate Universes Crossovers belongs to me

All belongs to my msa x sd ocs sonas and my new msa x sd ocs sonas 

All belongs to her msa x sd ocs sonas and her new msa x sd ocs sonas

Mystery Skulls Animated MSA belongs to Ben and MysteryBen27 of YouTube YT Series Shows

Scooby Doo SD belongs to WB (Warner Bros) and HB (Hanna Barbera) of Animated Movies and TV Series Shows