#but those stories will be sanded at the edges to only show their best

[oifaaa]

Top ten things that make young au Jason do the O O face? Frances Grayson is in there but what about Batcow the fifth?

Really it's meeting any family member bc you gotta remember when jason died it was literally just him Bruce Alfred Dick and Babs now he's 100 years in the future meeting family members who barley even know or resemble the family he remembers and every family member he meets reminds him how truly alone he is

[mykingdomforapen]

LC's Link Click fic shout-outs

I worry I'm going to come off as nagging but I do feel strongly about it. Link Click has some INCREDIBLE fic, written by people who put a lot of time and energy and effort into writing, but they don't always get a ton of reader interaction. I feel like I often find a fic I enjoy, scroll down to comment, and find I'm maybe one of 2 or 3 people to comment on it.

Link Click is technically not a small fandom--on the contrary, it's so incredibly active! But it seems that unless a fic was published in the s1 era or happens to get lucky, this is the norm. Which strikes me as sad, because the fandom is popping and active on other platforms.

So here are a handful of fics (by no means exhaustive) of fics that I've thoroughly enjoyed that I had scrolled down and went, They deserve so much love! (again, not exhaustive!)

liminal by Anonymous

Qiao Ling and Lu Guang talk. Much is left unsaid.

It's such a subtle fic, but so effective in showing Lu Guang's emotions, Qiao Ling's worry, and the nature of their relationship in conjunction to Cheng Xiaoshi. It's truly just so soft and nice.

stain by HeavenlyDusk

The only way for Cheng Xiaoshi to be dead is for Qiao Ling to have died first.

I just love a Qiao Ling confronts Lu Guang about Cheng Xiaoshi's death fic, and this one really captures big sister Qiao Ling and how much she cares about both of her boys. I love it!

resolve and reverberations by macrauchenia

Lu Guang rarely fumbles, rarely cracks, and rarely steps up to the sparring mat first. Nevertheless, on a random day in the middle of September, he does all three. Alternatively, Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi can't figure out why their best friend seems so *wrong* for no explicable reason.

A slice of life fic that adds such a delicious sprinkle of angst at Lu Guang's expense hehe. But it makes me feel so sad for Lu Guang, who just is so traumatized of losing Cheng Xiaoshi, and then it gives him a soft encouragement at the end. It's so sweet.

Instinct (Part One) by JordannaMorgan

Hired to solve a wealthy client’s personal mystery, Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang discover there are even darker powers in the world than they realized… and the damage left in the fallout will not be easily fixed for anyone.

Man, this fic is so CREATIVE. It is great at suspense, kept me on the edge of my seat from chapter to chapter, and the Cheng Xiaoshi angst is so delicious. And then the ENDING. gahhh, I cannot wait for Part Two and really hope that it will come!! I think about this fic so often

A Day Like Any Other by rane_ne

After three long years, for the very first time ever, Lu Guang finally gets to turn 20.

It's just ... gahhhh. Cheng Xiaoshi is my blorbo, yes, but Lu Guang being so relieved and emotional at the end because he's finally done it, and is turning another year older because he no longer has to dive back because his friend is alive??? GAHHHHH

Memoriam by JordannaMorgan

Even for those who have no powers, photographs are powerful things.

This is a lovely case fic that is so thoughtfully, emotionally, and tenderly told. I love the compassion that the story has for the characters, and it gives me the feelings that the Earthquake arc concluded with--finding joy and kindness even within the tragedy. I really love it.

sept, oct by Toothpaste_Fresh

The first time around, there are no rules, and Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi must learn all of their lessons the hard way. The first time around, Cheng Xiaoshi is the seventh of Liu Min’s victims. The second time around, there will be no seventh victim.

Gosh, this fic is so goooood. I love the speculation of what the first time round was like, and GOSH it's just such a gut punch of dramatic irony, of both CXS and LG being bold and idealistic and naive, and then how it tragically leads to CXS' death. It's EXCELLENT.

Golden Hour by StuckIn_aTimeLoop

The salty breeze feels nice. Cheng Xiaoshi smiles as he kneels down in the sand, happy they managed to make it in time for golden hour. Cheng Xiaoshi holds up the camera to capture his shot.

I LOVE ME SOME PARALLEL SCENES THAT ARE CONNECTED AND INTERTWINED BY AN EMOTIONAL MOTIF!! The juxtaposition of two types of golden hours is done so well, and both are so full of energy of opposite kinds in such a well balanced way. I was so excited when I heard this fic was being written and I was so happy reading it.

the shine in your eyes reminded me of the moon by StuckIn_aTimeloop

Cheng Xiaoshi was barely a child when his parents died. The king took him in, raised him as his own. Now he's older, it is time for him to choose his own knight.

Prince Cheng Xiaoshi and Knight Lu Guang. Need I say more??? It's so indulgent and I love it.

[twig-tea]

Only Friend Finale Reaction

I want to write this down now because I suspect my feelings on this will change over time. In this moment, immediately post-finale, I am satisfied. I feel happy. I am glad this show got made, and that I watched it.

Only Friends was billed as the messy gays show. I went in expecting something close to Friend Zone but with more gays, and that's what we got. Not a Warped Effect with explicit morals and lessons about sex, consent, sexualities, kinks, etc., not a GayOK Bangkok which is grounded in realism.

And because this was Jojo and Ninew and Den and Best, it's still more realistically queer than any GMMTV BL to date, and there were some absolutely stellar moments that stand alone as moving, and powerful, and beautiful, and genre-changing. And so near the beginning of the show airing, I raised my expectations; maybe this show was going to do more.

But was clear by the penultimate episode that it wasn't. I wrestled a lot on here with my need for this show to be the one that finally broke up the mixed pair expectations, and let sluts be sluts, and finally showed a threesome, and maybe even gave us consensual non-monogamy. It didn't go that far in any of those realms, but it took a step closer on many of them, and considering where BL has been to date that's still pretty huge for GMMTV, and I don't want to lose sight of that or judge it for what I wanted it to be instead of what it ultimately was.

The other thing I wrestled with a lot in this show was what other people were seeing in it, and my frustration that people were taking away moral lessons that the show wasn't giving. I think I was successful in that I watched this finale with satisfaction for what I was getting, even though I know a lot of people won't see what I saw (and btw I'm not even claiming that what I saw was what the creators intended! I am not claiming superiority here, just bias lol). So I watched this finale deciding to take what I wanted from it, rather than what I thought it was actually trying to say, and for that reason I enjoyed the hell out of it.

So. Here are my takeaways from the Only Friends finale:

We got a three-way kiss, even if it didn't lead to a threesome, after teasing us all series that was still satisfying and we got it as part of a branded pair in a GMMTV show. It was fun, and messy, and I loved it. I appreciate that it was also...maybe necessary is too far lol but it was actually in service to the plot--we all knew Sand still had feelings for Boeing, or else he would not have still been so mad at Top that he was willing to use Nick and Ray to get his revenge. Not every emotional loose end needs to be resolved with kissing, but it was kind of fun that they tried (and I also really appreciated that it didn't work lol).

I loved that Mew and Ray talking as friends got them to compare notes on and eventually team up to take down Boeing. Their friendship really is the backbone of this series, and I'm glad it survived everything. Mew is so relieved to have someone else taking care of Ray because he never wanted that role and wasn't good at it, but he does care about his friend's happiness and is more than happy to step in when there's drama. I appreciate that he made really clear to Sand that his feelings for Ray are platonic, in the bar, that's the first time I've really seen him be truly supportive of Ray, and it was nice to see.

The Mew and Top scenes were fascinating. I think this is where I'm going to differ from the bulk of the audience and I've made peace with that. I do not find stories like theirs romantic--where both partners need to be in control and play games to stay in control the whole time--so for me, the fact that these power struggles were still present in all of their scenes satisfied my desire to see them stay together, happy but on edge. So. That scene with Mew and Top in which Mew agrees to live with Top but then asks him to apologize to Sand right afterwards; I read that as pretty manipulative on Mew's part, and Top's uncomfortable face at the end means that he felt it too. Maybe I wasn't supposed to read it that way, but that's why it worked for me. The ring, too, "now or never", it's not a promise of forever, it's a promise of the present [such a strong ephemerality statement]. The conversation in the bath in which they outline their needs and identify that they have contrasting needs, and say "I'll work on it / we'll deal with it when it comes" is exactly what I was expecting of this relationship. They're not perfect for each other, and they're going to continue to push one another. Right now they're agreeing to try, without a guarantee that it will work. Talking about their needs is good, but we don't actually see them trying, so it didn't hit as romantic as it would otherwise for me either. And Mew daring Sand to kiss Top in order to get them to be chill was such a Mew power move I loved it. He asked Top to apologize to Sand, and then forced them to be in close proximity before getting confirmation that Top was ready. Top apologizing to Sand in that last second before they kissed was him clinging for power while Sand was hovering over him, and it was a perfect Top volley. Constant power struggle, that's how I read these two. Mew teasing Top with whether or not he's slept with anyone else was so interesting considering their history around that--I was probably supposed to see it as growth in their relationship that they can joke about it? Or maybe they were trying to undo some of the sexual morality nonsense that made its way into this show by pointing out that actually it doesn't matter if Mew had been with anyone before? But what I saw was Mew still struggling to have a power foothold over Top now that he's moved in. I will admit the fire scene, at first, I was so confused by. Were we supposed to be moved by Top getting past his trauma? What was that scene even about? I think, in the context of Mew's struggle with his place in Top's life, and his power in this relationship, it was about Mew understanding the invisible support he provides for Top, and why he's important to Top. Mew watched Top be competent and collected in the face of a triggering event, and was impressed at how Top had it all together, but Top credits Mew's presence for that. I think it helped Mew start to actually see a future with Top, because he understands his place in it a bit better. Even if he feels like he's not doing enough, Top sees his presence as strength, so maybe he doesn't need to worry quite so much about keeping score. But that's honestly me reaching, I struggled with that scene and think it was the weakest in the finale [and @lurkingshan I read your post and could believe that your read is true, that it was there to prove Top did have trauma].

Can I tell you how much I love how this show ended, with Mix's character smiling at Mew, and Top's nervous look? Because I think we've wrestled with Mew's confidence in this relationship for the whole show, but it's clear Top still feels unsettled/uncertain in this relationship and I love that we ended with him feeling threatened. This for me was the perfect ending for this couple, and what I've wanted as their ending all along--they're happy right now, they know there are potential bumps on the road in their future, and they're not certain they'll make it through, but they're willing to try--but the threats are real, and present, and not going to be easy because this relationship is not solid.

I also really appreciated what was happening with Boston and Nick, even though I wish it would have been more explicit or done better; what we got was still better than I expected from a GMMTV show. I loved Boston dissuading Nick from following him, and finding the romantic asks to be too many/too much, and having a different definition of "boyfriend" (but not different enough to not like to Nick's face about where you were, Boston, I see you). I love that Nick didn't get mad at Boston for "cheating", understood what Boston was offering for what it was; I also really loved Sand's advice to Nick that just because what's on offer is laid out honestly and fairly, that that means he has to accept it if it's not what he wants. I didn't love Boston trying to backtrack when Nick decided not to take him up on it; but I did love Nick's response, telling Boston to own who he is rather than trying to be someone he's not.

I think this is where my attempts the last couple of weeks to let go of what people will take from this show has helped, because yeah, you can see this as the narrative punishing Boston for being a slut, but this has never been a morality play, and so I'm taking from it how I see it. And I see it as Boston getting a clean slate with a bit more perspective going to New York. What I would say to Boston if he were my friend: This friend group was a mess and they always judged Boston for his sex life more than was deserved; they also violated his privacy by passing around his sex audio and never apologized for it. Boston also didn't take their feelings into consideration when he decided who to have sex with, and he messed with their relationships which was not being a good friend either. Does he actually want them back, or is he just feeling lonely? My hope for him is that he takes what he's learned about other people's feelings--that not everyone sees the world he does, and he has to understand that people will be hurt by different things whether or not they would hurt him, if he wants to retain relationships of any kind including friendships, and decide whether or not they're worth making concessions for before hurting them so that he doesn't lose people he doesn't want to--and finds folks who fit better with his worldview and morals, and then is better able to keep them in his life. But also these people are hypocrites, and he should not take their opinion as a statement of fact about his worth. He didn't do anything worse to them than they did to him or each other.

I know a lot of people are going to see this storyline as a punish the slut story. I was wrestling with this two episodes ago, maybe that's why I'm willing to be chill about this now. I was hoping we'd get Boston as a reason to discuss consensual non-monogamy in a GMMTV show, but I am actually ok with Nick saying listen, I need to be honest about what I want and it's not that, and Boston you shouldn't be trying to give me what I want because that's not going to make you happy either. Boston being alone isn't a sad ending; to me it's the ending he was expecting and aiming for this whole time. The only difference is he's surprised by how he feels about it now that he's in it, and he's panicking a bit. Boston was not just a slut, he was a slut who didn't care about who he hurt; it's that latter piece that he's wrestling with in this finale, and I love that Nick told him he didn't have to stop being a slut to stop being an asshole. Honestly, he'll get to New York and be fine, I really think so. And I took the Nick/Boston goodbye conversation as Nick saying "I love you as you are, a slut, and it's ok to be that. Go be a happy slut!" Do I wish he'd said that more explicitly so that people would understand that? Yes. But I've given up on that.

Cheum not going with the group to the fireworks was so interesting in the context of our conversations about Cheum over the past couple of days. I took this to be the show acknowledging explicitly that she's not actually a part of the core friend group; she schemes to keep the group together (unsuccessfully), and we don't ever get a sense of why she cares so much about that--maybe it's guilt for helping push out Boston for something he didn't do, maybe she needs the security of the group she's got, we never get that insight and I'm still a bit sad about that. But she's not there for the big fireworks finale, so we're at least clear that the show never intended her to be a Main Character. And I was so happy we got her saying her plan worked in the pool. Maybe that still won't be enough to convince the audience that she's an unreliable narrator, but it was satisfying for me! Also loved her unwrapping the photo from Boston and the group's uncomfortable reaction to it. Maybe Chuem's going to keep pushing that they reconcile; maybe she's just delusional about how well her plan worked. Either way, the tension was fun. I didn't get the full resolution of her character that I wanted, but the show nodding explicitly to the fact that she keeps herself apart from the main group so I shouldn't expect it was helpful to me getting over that. And we got a kiss! And another tiny insight into their relationship; again not enough to go on, but i did think it really interesting that the two things we know about April and Cheum are: April appreciates Cheum's positive energy, and April has asked Cheum to be more honest and not just positive for the sake of being positive (about her films). So I'm reading this as that these two are just as messy and as likely to continue to have problems as the rest of the group.

Ending in Sand and Ray because I think this is the least ambiguous; I appreciated that Sand started doing what Sand always does and saying "yeah I"ll sacrifice all of my sources of income for you no problem" (WHAT) and Ray waiting until they're alone again to say "actually that's ridiculous don't do that". I appreciated that Sand's new year plans were all about Ray because he hasn't had anything push him into actually being more selfish, and the resolution with Boeing was done for him so he didn't have to set boundaries after all (called that one), so he's had zero character growth, actually. I appreciate that Ray pushes him to try to be a little selfish, that's the best sign that Ray is finally actually caring about Sand's needs, and that their relationship might work, that I've seen the whole series. I'm taking it with a massive grain of salt, because the plan is for Ray to constantly expose himself to alcohol and partying. I think this is set up to be just as tenuous as the Mew/Top relationship, but it reads a bit more lovey-dovey because they're in a less problematic place at the moment (where they have just resolved one of their insecurities so they're more confident in one another--but it's not clear how long that will last, especially with the threat of Sand's self-sacrifice and Ray's fierce boundary-violating in the face of any threat looming in the background unresolved). Sand expressing his uncertainty around his role in the Hostel was also perfect, because he is an outsider in this project and doesn't have a role, and it's a perfect point for tension in the future between them.

Even the way Yo warns the group of friends in the very last scene that they're going to have to be better to one another and less dramatic in the future if they want this hostel to last felt ominous to me rather than preachy; have this group learned enough to make this business work? That definitely remains to be seen.

Nobody should be watching Only Friends with the idea that it's going to give them any kind of lesson about what to do; at best it's a list of what not to do's lol. None of these characters are perfect, they're all incredibly flawed, and young. So their choices, including whether or not to stay together, whether or not to stay friends, whether or not to stay in business, should not be read as a moral judgment by the showrunners. I definitely agree that this could have been more effective as a message if folks weren't happy at the end. But I've given up on it needing to be effective for everyone; they stayed in character to me, and it was effective for me.

I recognized so much of my friends and my youth in this series, and I am so grateful to have gotten to see that portrayed in a show that felt like a rollercoaster while I was watching it; I literally screamed aloud, I cheered, I laughed, I applauded. This show had characters casually snort coke, hook up, flirt with their exes, kiss their friends, make mistakes, forgive one another heinous shit, be mean, kiss outside their branded pairs, and in some cases let one another go.

There are a LOT of ways this show could have been better. It was close, so close in some cases, to being amazing, and it's fallen short in a lot of ways. It could have been a subversive and compelling narrative about slut shaming and the toxicity of fandom branded pairs. Instead, it was just a show about flawed people being flawed. But I had fun, and I'm not taking away from this show that any of these characters were in the right, or that sluts are bad, or need to change--whether it was the intended message, I've given up on that because I legitimately can't tell and if it is the message, I don't want to know. I don't think it overromanticized these flawed characters, but I can see how folks could see it that way. I'm choosing to remember that these characters have all been flawed and shown to be flawed throughout the show, and notice the ways in which they are still flawed, and the hints that things will stay messy. Maybe this is a bit like those experiments in which they found the way people in incarceration watch Die Hard very differently from how other people do or how it was intended LOL maybe I'm working too hard to justify what was just bad writing and gross moral judgments and toxic relationships being portrayed as romantic. But it didn't land that way for me, so I'm going to celebrate that and enjoy the feelings this show gave me.

[demifiendrsa]

Thedas Calls - Dragon Age Day (2023)

A full reveal for Dragon Age: Dreadwolf is scheduled for summer 2024.

Latest details

Thedas Calls

You’ve visited the lands of Thedas thrice before in our games and many more times in comics, books, art, and short stories. This time, you’ll be venturing to places unseen and returning to places from long ago.

To celebrate Dragon Age Day, we wanted to show you some of those sights.

We stand on the precipice of change. This is a world brimming with stories and characters waiting to meet you. The fate of this world teeters on the edge of a knife. In past games, you only got to see a slice of the world. In Origins, it was Ferelden—a land ravaged by war and Dark Spawn. In II, it was Kirkwall and its locales—festering with corruption and a dark underworld. And in Inquisition, you ventured across much of Orlais—facing down political intrigue as often as combat.

This time, however, much more of Thedas is yours to see. The desolate, beautiful badlands of the Anderfels with curtains of distant mountainous spires. The twisting canals and gleaming towers of Antiva, where Crows may lurk in any shadow. The turquoise seas of Rivain with its rushes of greenery and hardy sea-faring people. And of course, there’s more.

We felt this was best for the tale we wanted to tell this time and we hope you enjoy it as much as we have! It’s allowed us to create many more locations than past games, including both some you’ve longed to go to…and some you’ve never heard of before!

The Places You’ll Go

To help capture the wonders of Thedas, we partnered with three wonderful artists from our exceptionally talented community and gave them an early look at what you’ve now seen. We’ve always been so fortunate to have such an incredibly skilled community of artists, and getting to work with these three was a true joy!

We asked each of them to create a vista of one of the three regions in the video based on their interpretation of it in their own unique styles. Please enjoy their wonderful work, and be sure to send them some love when you check out their personal channels for more of their art!

—“Rivain” by Gabriela Isache

Upon eastern shores and sunkissed sands, the Lords of Fortune no longer hold dominion over the coasts of Rivain—not when dragons are growing bolder and laying waste to their ships.

—“Antiva” by Nipuni

Ever the pinnacle of mystery and intrigue, the Crows watch from the deep shadows of beautiful Antiva. Something, however, is amiss, and they are set on uncovering the source.

—“Anderfels” by Solelle

To the far west, three Grey Wardens patrol the Anderfels. Tremors have been creating disturbances of late. Their cause is unknown. Upon the distant horizon, a storm of ominous intent brews and darkens the skies.

[animebw]

Thinking back on it, I'm realizing there aren't many straightforward idol anime I actually like. Like, Zombieland Saga is lots of fun, but the idol stuff is consistently the weakest part of it and I always feel myself tuning out whenever that's the focus. I guess I liked Heroines Run the Show before it went to shit in the back half? Does Ya Boi Kongming count? Symphogear, technically? Maybe Hanayamata? I dunno, I feel like all those shows have asterisks that keep them from being straightforward idol-y enough to qualify. Meanwhile, by far the most traditional idol show I've watched so far has been Shine Post, and hoooooooo boy did I end up hating that one.

I think the problem is, as I grow increasingly cynical and jaded in my old, withered age of 25 years old, the overwhelming positivity that defines the idol genre starts to feel forced and cloying. It's easy enough for "believe in yourself and try your best" to work as an overall theme if you're sincere enough to pull it off. But the second that theme becomes an obligation or an afterthought, it can very quickly turn a show into the most suffocating, shrink-wrapped piece of sanitized goop imaginable. It becomes a way for a story to avoid being about anything, spouting generic platitudes and cynically designed cuteness with all its edges sanded down and dull. When I look at the weaker idol anime I've watched, I don't see stories that come by their earnestness, well, earnestly. I see coldly calculated, market-tested corporate branding exercises that say nothing, express nothing, and don't dare step a single toe out of line. A plastic smile plastered across an empty styrofoam mannequin, babying its audience with lazy, simplified moralizing because it doesn't think they're capable of anything more complex than Teletubbies, and god forbid we lose a single audience member trying to actually make an artistic statement.

But that's the thing about Juuki Hanada as a writer.

When this man wants to get messy?

He gets fucking messy.

So much of what makes Hanada's writing so powerful, in comedy and drama alike, is how well he's able to let the reins go of his characters and let them crash into each other. Snappy one-liners and comebacks battling for dominance, chaotic personalities setting off fireworks of all kinds through their interactions, but also raw, ugly emotional confrontations that don't sugarcoat anything out of fear his audience isn't mature enough to handle it. Not all of his stuff is a masterpiece- I could spend hours talking about how badly Kyoukai no Kanata's plot falls apart in the second half, Steins;Gate gets more and more exhausting the more I think about it- but even his weakest works carry the unmistakable passion of a writer holding nothing back. And when he's firing on all cylinders? You might just end up with the single greatest coming-of-age tale this medium has ever produced.

And it turns out, that sensibility is exactly what a show like Love Live needs to succeed. Because even the most optimistic, inspirational story imaginable needs that edge to temper itself against. The sheer chaos of its lovable cast bouncing off each other isn't just what makes the comedy work so well, it's what lets these dramatic moments sting the way they need to. Because it's only in recognizing these harsher moments- failure, frustration, despair- that its triumphs are able to be so meaningful. I care about Muse because I've seen what it looks like when they fall short, and I care about Honoka because this show lets me see her at her lowest, at her most human and vulnerable. These characters aren't just plastic simulations of cute girls selling a fantasy; they feel like a real friend group, messy and anarchic and free. Free to express themselves with the full palette of the human experience, even the parts most of us would rather pretend didn't exist. And it makes their successes matter in a way they wouldn't if we didn't have that grounding in the unbearable chaos of being.

Love Live is not a deconstruction, or a subversion, or a dark parody or anything so gauche. It's nothing more of less than a straightforward, inspirational idol show. But it's a straightforward, inspirational idol show that knows it doesn't have to sacrifice its raw humanity to shine with the brightest stars in the sky. And that, folks, makes all the difference in the world.

[ammg-old2]

In 1971, the Angling Times sent reporter Dave Nash to document a disaster in Ockendon, Essex. The resulting article described the extinction of a local beauty spot, hundreds of hectares of open space where former gravel pits had become popular fishing lakes. “In less than a decade, what was one of the best fisheries in Essex has been savagely raped and despoiled. Seven hundred tons of household garbage is deposited into the pits every day, along with a similar undisclosed amount of industrial refuse.” The article was accompanied by a striking picture, taken by Nash, showing two men attempting to catch a pike between the scrap cars that lined the bank of Arisdale lake. “If it’s not the water level dropping,” said Jerry Hulbert, the vice-president of the Moor Hall and Belhus Angling Society, “then it’s the rubbish encroaching a few feet every day.”

I came across this story via my father-in-law, Cliff Hatton, who had sent me the newspaper cutting in the post. He would often tell me how the gravel pits, clay pits and sand pits of South Ockendon – initially dug out by the Ham River Grit company to feed the post-second world war hunger for concrete in south-east England – became, in his own excited words, “a nirvana” once they had naturally filled with water. “You dig a hole in Thurrock, leave it a few years and there are fish in it.”

The faintly absurd happenstance of the pits felt to me like a classic Essex story. My birth county had long made the best out of whatever the modern world threw at it, from industrial growth along the Thames to postwar new towns, becoming a shorthand for a loutish brand of greed-is-good Conservatism in the 1980s, and spray-tanned reality stars in the 2010s.

Like many former Londoners looking for green space, Cliff’s family had moved to South Ockendon from a housing estate near Romford in 1964, when Cliff was 11. He and his older brother Barry were keen fishers, and had enrolled in the local angling society. They rejoiced at the abundance of water they could dip their lines into. Cliff was a big fan of local heroes the Small Faces and the music of the burgeoning 1960s mod scene, which was filling Mecca ballrooms with R&B and soul from Forest Gate on the edge of London to Clacton on the coast. But it wasn’t music that kept him up all night. While his peers might have been trying their luck with a potential squeeze in the dark corner of a parquet-floored hall, he was sitting under the moonlight with a rod, eager to catch a handsome carp, perch or bream.

Cliff said one of the pits, known as Hamble Lane, had, like an increasing number of places in south Essex, become an established rubbish tip by the time they started fishing there. But, while fishing at night, he noticed something odd. “There was more activity at the site during the hours of darkness than there was during the hours of light, even though everybody should by law have been gone,” Cliff said. Lorries would come through the gates “nose-to-tail” with sometimes up to 14 in a convoy, all through the night until sunrise. It was only later he realised the extent of the industrial chemicals that were being dumped there under cover of darkness.

One day in 1967, an elderly neighbour had asked Cliff to bring back some sticks from the Hamble Lane dump that he could use in his rose garden. Cliff remembered his errand when he was on the way back from fishing, after the sun had gone down. He climbed on top of a pile of wood to search for sticks, and then jumped off. “I just leapt into the darkness thinking I was going to land on solid ground,” said Cliff. Instead, he found himself up to his waist in slime. After a few moments, his skin began to burn. He had jumped into a caustic slurry, dumped there by a pharmaceutical company based in Dagenham. “That led to me spending a week or so in hospital and many, many weeks after that invalided indoors with great burns to my legs and on my face,” said Cliff.

Cliff’s parents, knowing their place, never sought compensation. Once recovered enough to return to the pits, Cliff found two half-empty drums of granulated cyanide floating in one of them. Another time, he and his brother came across a mountain of glass vials, and suspected that barbiturates had been dumped a few yards from a school fence. “We took some samples to the local police station, and showed them these dangerous drugs and mentioned they were within yards of the school playing field, and the only question we were asked was: ‘What were you doing over there?’ They were more worried about the fact that we were trespassing.”

Thurrock council took no action over the scandalous pollution that burned him and destroyed the habitat he so cherished, leaving Cliff with “a lifelong grudge against authority”. Decades later, he still winced at the thought of the fish floundering about in a couple of feet of muddy, poisoned water as the pits were drained and the whole reserve became a landfill site; those that hadn’t already perished were buried alive under tonnes of industrial waste.

“And of course with them went all the voles and the birdlife, including kingfishers and bitterns.” Each time Cliff told me of his favourite fishing spot, the Ripples, it was as if he could see it before him anew. “It was dubbed the Ripples because when the wind blew on it and the sun shone on it, it was such a beautiful looking place. It sparkled. It was a paradise and it just went under a sea of filth.”

[ramblingsofamadman25]

Chapter 2: Late Night Tea

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14200223/3/A-New-Alliance

Chapter 2: Late Night Tea

If you were to ask how the Addams manor in New Jersey looked, you’d receive various calls for haunted, a few pleas for gothic, and a chorus of magnificent. A monolithic home suited only for the Addams and those they allowed into its halls. This was not the case for the Reserve family home though, it was a massive log cabin crafted from smooth sanded oak logs, with massive awnings and tall ceilings. Furs lined the walls in a gargantuan living room near 3 stories high, with windows of equal height, a row of mounted head trophies ringed the semicircular space. Near the windows sat a shining black grand piano, and before that sat 3 couches in a half moon around a fireplace on the right wall. The left held what appeared to be a minibar, the walls lined with various bottles of spirits and wine. Down the hall to the right contained a large kitchen with cabinets made of the same oak, and charcoal gray granite countertops, an island lay in the middle with a large gas stovetop. To the left one could find the master suite, as well as a conference room, and a bathroom. 

The upstairs was far more simple, a balcony jutted out from the wall with a railing made of twisting branches, along the wall five separate doors sat closed and quiet. None of these rooms were remarkable; inside a queen size bed awaited with thick comforters to guard against the cold, a desk with spare pens and notebook, and an enchanted wardrobe designed to give the occupant the perfect outfit depending on the occasion. At the end of the balcony lay one extra door, in which came another enchanted room. The bathroom was enchanted so that any time the door was opened from the outside, the occupant would be moved to a liminal space mimicking the bathroom until they left, by doing this the house was insured against having too few bathrooms when many people were staying at once. What really tied the home together though was that all the strange angles of light, and conservative use of it as well, led to stretching deep shadows dancing along the walls and floor. A chandelier hung above it with all the candles lit in dancing flames that only added to the shadowy spectacle. 

But save the best for last, and only an Addams knows the truth in this, we come to the garden outside. Carpeted by bioluminescent moss, with mushrooms of all sizes and varieties lined up in neat and colorful rows, such an effect can only be upheld by magic as well, but it is the magic of the Keeper that allows these dark and damp loving little morsels to thrive in the dry environment. Beyond the garden rested a small lake where all manner of little devils called home, yet the water remained so still it shined like a mirror of the night sky. 

As both rider and hearse approached the building from the outside, Corvus let out a sharp whistle that rang clear and sharp into the mists. A moment later small blue flames lit up the edges of the driveway and led to an overhang where Lurch should park the vehicle. Inside though, Pubert was getting excited and jumping up and down on his seat as he peered out the window to watch the flames. But as soon as his eyes began to glaze over Morticia plucked him up and set him on her lap, out of sight of the little spirits outside.

“Be careful my little cat’s eye. The Will O’ Wisps are beautiful, but more than happy to trick you and lead you to your death, and I expect all my children to die in their 90’s at the youngest,” she ran her hand down the side of his cheek, “do you hear me my darling?”

“Yes mom.”

After pulling up to the house, Corvus led them on a quick tour of the building and showed each of them to their rooms while Lurch unpacked the car. Thing had crawled out of Wednesday’s pack and rested on her shoulder as they paced the echoing halls. Truth be told, it was far more comfortable and familiar than she had thought it would be. It had an eerie aura that all Addams homes tended to possess. She could see how care had been implemented into each facet of the cabin and that Corvus was going beyond his duties as Keeper by far. His singular goal and objective was to guard and report all things that Addams generations later down the line might need to solve mysteries or curses of their own without the same daunting task of months of research. In the basement, Wednesday knew the largest library of family journals and diaries was collected for this purpose alone. But Corvus had gone beyond that and turned the entire Reserve into a variable stockpile of magical components. With the land and beasts thriving as she had seen so far they could host an entire army of witches and never run dry of phantom tears, Grimm fangs, or gryphon blood.

Wednesday wanted into that library, there was no chance in her lifetime she’d find herself unprepared for a meeting such as this, she needed to learn everything about werewolves as she could in the time being to give her an edge. There were of course the obvious weaknesses she had learned from her father as a child; silver, wolfsbane, and fire were all good ways of either cornering or ending such a beast. But you had to get close to use those. She needed something that would manipulate or control them, something to perhaps make them more…agreeable, to her family’s terms in the new treaty. Whilst her mind had been wandering, Corvus finished the tour and said he would be in the kitchen making hemlock tea if anyone wished to join him.

First things first though, she needed a shower to wash off all of her parents' doting affection for each other that sat like a film on her skin from the long drive starting in New Jersey. It oozed off of them like tar. She excused herself to freshen up, giving Thing explicit instructions to stay in her room and check every corner of it for hidden passageways or places to hide things. Something deep in her soul, something she could feel was connected to her psychic power, was warning her the negotiations would last much longer than anticipated. Wednesday had brought this up with her mother once already, but Morticia had smiled and said her own abilities as a dove had offered no such warning, and that she felt things would go even better than expected. 

After her shower she changed into a pair of black pajamas and decided to go downstairs and have tea with Corvus after all, opting to not re-braid her hair just yet. Nobody but her family was allowed to see her looking anything less than murderous, and the twisted nature of her cousin made her all the more certain that he would take notice of the subtle show of respect she was offering by doing this. The older man was sitting on a barstool and leaned on the counter, one hand wrapped around a still boiling cup of tea while the other flicked through an old tome as though he had read it 7 times already. Perhaps he had, with a lifespan that long she could only imagine the amount of knowledge kept in the crypt of his mind. Her foot scuffed on the uneven flooring between the hallway and kitchen, and without so much as looking Corvus lifted a finger from his book. It traced a delicate rune in the air, leaving behind a trail of dark green in the air that seemed to pull in the light, and utensils began flying through the air as the magic took hold and brewed Wednesday a cup of her own tea that was then set down in front of the seat next to his. 

“Care to join me Wednesday? It’s the perfect night for a good read.” 

“I’d be more than happy, so long as I’m not interrupting your routine.” He chuckled a bit at that, and placed a bookmark in the old journal before turning to her. In the dark of the night outside she had assumed his eyes had been the same dark brown as the rest of the family, but she could now see her assumption had been wrong. Corvus’s eyes were not just black, they were all black. Pupil, iris, sclera, the entirety were black as the night with the same green sheen you’d find on a beetle’s carapace as the light reflected off of them. 

“There’s no routine to ruin, not for family. I’m not allowed many visitors out here so I welcome every opportunity to speak with someone other than Rue.”

“Rue? I wasn’t aware anybody else lived out here.” Wednesday’s confusion was plain on her face, and it made Corvus let out a dry laugh. Another rune traced through the air and all the windows crept open, and he let out a sharp whistle similar to the one from before, but with a musical melody reminding her of Frank Sinatra’s ‘My Way.’ Out in the darkness of the night came a keening screech, a moment later a small creature sat perched on the windowsill by the sink. It had the head of a great horned owl, with razor sharp talons, and wings stretching out from its shoulders. The body reminded her of a bobcat, large and covered with ashy gray fur with a long curling tail tipped in black. “What is it?”

“She’s a gryphowl, a subsidiary family of gryphons and hippogriffs. They’re endangered now as their blood is easier to harvest than that of their larger family members, and twice as potent. They all share the same amount of magical energy you see, regardless of size, and it causes the magic in a gryphowls blood to condense to fit in such a small package,” Corvus raised his hand and it walked across the counter, leapt onto the island, and rubbed its face against his finger. “She’s as close to a familiar as I’ll ever get, I’ve been taking care of her since she was no bigger than my finger.”

“Fascinating,” Wednesday sat down next to her cousin, held a flat hand out to Rue, and waited. Rue sniffed at her at first, before rubbing her face up and down along Wednesday’s arm before flopping onto one side and resting her head in Wednesday’s palm. “What do you mean by ‘closest you’ll get to a familiar’? All witches have a familiar, it comes with being a witch.” He sucked in a deep breath and nodded at that, a pained expression overcoming his face.

“That’s true enough, but I’m afraid I must be the exception to that rule,” he began to pet the sleek gray fur and check Rue’s toes for barbs, “but an Addams familiar is one and the same as who the curse of love picks for them. Many of our family witches have supernatural partners with animal-like forms or instincts. Your great great aunt Liza was a witch of the highest order, and her husband Leopold was a very powerful werewolf. He served as both the object of her curse and her power.”

“And because you are the Keeper, you’re never allowed to find love,” Wednesday finished.

“That’s right, the only thing that can kill an Addams and make it stick is the loss of our love. Since I cannot love, I cannot die. At least not by any natural or easily obtained supernatural means. Beyond even that, I am a cross between two old and powerful witch bloodlines. My mother was an Addams, as you know, but my father came from a family of green witches known as the Enfants de la Décadence.”

“The Children of Decay,” Wednesday translated the french, and slipped her hand out from under Rue’s head to take a sip of her tea, “what’s the difference between the two?”

“The two of what?”

“What we are and what your father was, what is a green witch? I’ve heard of them but never met one.”

“You have an inquisitive young mind, for sure. A green witch will often forge their own connection or what they refer to as ‘the path,’ to whatever energies within nature most call to them. Some find deity work to their liking, others get along well with bogs or rainforests and use plants to their benefit, and the Children of Decay specialized in all things in nature that broke down the dead, returning their energy to the earth. Mushrooms, fungus, mycelium, insects, mold, scavengers, these are the things my powers tend to relate to. As well as a penchant for simple runic magic granted to me by my mother.”

“I see, thank you for clarifying,” she said and took another sip. Behind her eyes thoughts swirled together and blended in a haphazard sorting system. So green witch blood must also be the reason he looks so young after all this time, no Addams has lived past the age of 80 without at least a few white hairs. Yet he stands here after 200 years not looking a day over maybe 24. “I tend to ask many questions, if it ever becomes overbearing or bothersome please inform me so I can satiate my curiosity with other means.”

“I’ll be sure to, so long as you bring anything of import to me first. You may rule the family one day, but for now little cousin, this is my territory and I know all the secrets it holds. Speaking of which,” from the pocket of his vest he produced a large silver key, inlaid with a large sapphire at the end, “this will give you full access to the library to use at your discretion. Take care of the library and it will take care of you, it’s more alive than you might think.” Corvus winked and picked up his tea, scooping up Rue in his other arm. “I think it’s late enough now that if I don’t sleep, I may just miss the Sinclair’s arrival tomorrow. Goodnight Wednesday, sleep well.”

“Goodnight Corvus, thank you for speaking with me,” she stood with her hands behind her back, “it was enlightening to say the least.” He nodded to her with a wry grin, and began the walk down the hall to his own room. 

Tomorrow was both a nerve-wracking thought and an eager chance to prove herself, the restlessness had already gotten into her bones and made a new home for itself. Tonight she would not sleep, she would delve into the library and find any and all information she could on werewolves from her ancestors' personal accounts. 

Tonight she would feast on knowledge like a man starved for weeks.

[chorusfm]

Taylor Swift – 1989

Can it really be your “first documented, official pop album” if you’ve already released three of the biggest pop albums in recent memory? 10 years ago this weekend, Taylor Swift delivered the answer to that question, and the answer was a decisive, resounding “Yes.” From the vantage point of 2024, it’s almost difficult to remember any version of Taylor Swift that wasn’t a world-conquering, stadium-tour-dominating pop star. The past two years of Taylormania have so thoroughly dwarfed any other pop star achievement in my lifetime that it’s even a little difficult to think back to pre-COVID times, when it seemed like the Taylor Swift machine was maybe starting to run out of gas. As mid-decade lists pour out from every music publication out there, I expect plenty of debates about what was the quote-unquote “best song” or “best album” of the decade. When it comes to discussing the artist of the decade so far, though, there is simply no debate: it’s Taylor, then it’s 93 million miles, and then it’s everyone else. But it wasn’t always that way, and in the Taylor Swift story, it’s album number five, 2014’s 1989, that serves as arguably the most important inflection point between phase one Taylor and the force of nature we know today. Per the narrative, Taylor Swift before 2014 was a country star who had crossed over to pop music success but never fully left her Nashville roots behind. 1989, in being her “first documented, official pop album” – the weird phrasing she used to describe the LP when she officially announced it in August 2014 – was the album that made the crossover complete, and solidified Taylor’s status as the world’s biggest musical star in the process. The thing with narratives is that they’re often predicated on half-truths. Real life is messy, full of all sorts of jagged edges and unclean lines. The stories we tell about our lives often sand away those edges to simplify the act of retelling. Such is also the case with artists and the stories they tell about their art, and it’s certainly true about Taylor Swift, someone who had absolutely made pop albums long before 2014. Let’s review: Taylor arrives, at least as a recording artist, in 2006 with her self-titled LP. No arguments from me that this debut album is clearly a country record. The same is probably true about 2008’s Fearless, even though it achieved the kind of crossover that no country album in my lifetime up to that point had achieved. There had been massive, massive country acts in the ‘90s, of course: Garth Brooks and Billy Ray Cyrus and Shania Twain and Faith Hill and the Dixie Chicks. All those artists sold tons of albums, and most of them scored massive hits. Faith Hill even had the top-charting song of 1999, besting Santana and Rob Thomas and “Smooth.” With Fearless, though, Taylor felt more embraced by the pop mainstream than any of country’s ‘90s titans, especially as songs like “You Belong with Me” and “Love Story” broke down every genre barrier out there. Fearless was also an awards show darling in extremely notable ways, whether Taylor was beating out Beyonce at the MTV Video Music Awards (much to the chagrin of a certain rapper) or winning her first of four (and counting) Album of the Year Grammys. So, that’s one true-blue country album, and one album that rode the pop-country divide so cleverly that it brokered a new kind of peace between pop listeners and country listeners. The widespread embrace of Fearless set the stage for two albums that arguably have more pop in their DNA than country. 2010’s Speak Now throws Nashville a couple bones, in the form of songs like “Mean,” “Back to December,” and the b-side “Ours.” But it’s also got pure pop moments like “The Story of Us” and “Sparks Fly,” and big rock songs like “Haunted” and “Better Than Revenge.” It was also the first Taylor album to sell a million copies in a week, a mark previously only achieved by one country album: Garth Brooks’ Double Live from 1998. 2012’s Red is even more blatantly “not country,” and that’s… https://chorus.fm/reviews/taylor-swift-1989-2/

[peri-universals-universe]

My Opinions on Project Sekai commissions (part 1)

I fully expect to be crucified for my terrible opinions /lh All characters' focus songs, ranked (imto) Ichika 1. Pulse of the Meteor 2. Connecting the Stars (it was a tough choice between those two) 3. Made to Order (I don't hate slow songs as much as some, but I like the top two more) 4. the WALL (this song just doesn't stick out to me) Saki 1. SHOW OFF (it's so catchy!) 2. Stella 3. From Tokyo (I don't listen to it often) 4. Aioi (this song does nothing to me) Honami 1. Stage of Sekai 2. Regulus 3. Awaiting Clear Skies 4. Flyway (this is to me what Awaiting Clear Skies is to most fans, I just like the other three better) Shiho 1. Peaky Peaky (so catchy!) 2. Voices 3. purpose 4. [1] (doesn't really do anything for me) Minori 1. Worldwide Wander 2. Angel's Clover (I like the melody) 3. Teammate 4. Dream Place (got stuck in my head, but upon relistening I like the others more) 5. Jumpin' Over (dead last simply for robbing Haruka of a fourth focus /hj) Haruka 1. Love Material (might not be the best but it's catchy) 2. Float Planner (see above) 3. If (I forget this song exists) Airi 1. Ice Drop 2. Parasol Cider (just catchy, that's it) 3. Peachy Key (really like it, was hard to decide if it or Parasol Cider was better) 4. More! Jump! More! (probably overshadowed by Cutting-Edge Idols, and seems more like a group song than an Airi song) Shizuku 1. Color of Drops 2. I Am, We Are (refuse to shorten the same) 3. Hug (everyone loves this for being a MIMI song and I see why. Or hear, I guess) 4. Metamo Reborn (one of then had to be last) Kohane 1. One Sheep (was anyone surprised?) 2. Flyer 3. Beat Eater (these two were close) 4. Realize (just doesn't stand out to me) An 1. Gekokujou (was anyone surprised? part two. This song actually helped me process my own anger stage of grief) 2. Forward (I like this song more than most) 3. Awake Now 4. City (this and Awake Now were a toss up) Akito 1. Moonlight (too catchy to not be first) 2. Suspended Animation (this one has grown on me, though I ignored it at first) 3. CRaZY (I love it! I just love the first two more!) 4. Cinema (doesn't stand out) Toya 1. Hollow 2. Mirai (this is the opinion I expect to be crucified for. Not putting Mirai last. Even I'll admit the vocals are a bit strained but the song stuck with me.) 3. Rad Dogs (nothing I say can justify to the fandom why I like this less than Mirai so I'll say no more) Tsukasa 1. 88 (this song is too short but I love it so much that it's still number one) 2. Mr. Showtime (a very close second, mind you) 3. Tondemo-Wonderz (I just prefer the darker Tsukasa songs) 4. Filament Fever Emu 1. Once Upon a Dream 2. Theme of Niccori Survey Team (Emu's chaos is hit-or-miss for me. This is a hit.) 3. Starry Sky Orchestra (the name makes me compare it too much to Starry Sky Melody, which I love) 4. Shining Sparkling (Emu's chaos is hit-or-miss for me. This is a miss.) Nene 1. Starry Sky Melody (got stuck in my head and the rest is history) 2. Miniature Garden Coral (a hidden gem, like coral in the sand) 3. Glory Steady Go (like the others more) 4. Nijiiro Stories (I don't think I dislike it because it's not full-unit. Cellphone Love Story proved that can be done well. Though maybe only because Cellphone doesn't feel like a comm) Rui 1. What Sort of Ending Are You Wishing For? 2. Cyberpunk Dead Boy (this almost usurped What Sort of Ending. Almost) 3. Becoming Potatoes (normally I like dark songs from my wonder show boys. This is the exception) 4. Showtime Ruler (I like all Rui comms but one had to be last) Kanade 1. Samsa (is anyone surprised? part three) 2. Kanadetomosusora (helped me process my own grief) 3. Tricologe 4. Passion at 25:00 (too new to have really stuck out to me) Mafuyu 1. Reborn (I will forever be a slow song defender) 2. Jackpot Sad Girl 3. Bug (they are very close!) 4. Theater (I just haven't listened to it enough. All Mafuyu comms are good) Ena 1. Nomad (I love the melody) 2. Close to Gray 3. It is I (is this a good translation? I like it better than the official one.)

Mizuki 1. IDSMILE (too iconic to not be first) 2. Give Me Your Night (underrated in my opinion 3. Kitty (too me a while to get into it because, get this, I couldn't figure out what it had to do with cats) 4. Lower (doesn't do much for me)

[peterknopp]

Anxiety – My Story

Breath and catch a moment, one thing can lead to something more. Take another pill, this will heal your mind. Meds, I dunno what to think, will this thing help? Sugar coating seems to work for a while, but yet it is too sweet. Like a maze that leads to a dead end but has no start. “Shit, I digress” I say as I pour another drink. To those who are care free without a worry, I just don’t understand. How can you stop those edging thoughts, those odd small things that crop up out of what seems to be nothing …

My brain tries to beat me and trick me in this never ending game of theirs. Suddenly, I recoil, like a snail going back into it’s shell, “Oh, it’s only you” I say to Teddy, my beloved cat. A lovely tabby that I rescued two years ago from the shelter, he needed me, and at the time, I needed him. I cry into my pillow, as I grind the tablet into powder, I begin to feel the chill, the utmost mist that cools to the core. My nurse wants me to raise to 100mg of Sertraline, but I just can’t. I am OK with this one small tablet, I am not ill. Clean, must be clean. These compulsions rule my life, as if to say “You will never get better”. My henry hoover is good. It picks up dirt like nothing else; alas poor Harvey, be still. There is no threat but you bark anyway. Why? What do I need to do to please you? I’m raising you but you will never be a replacement of Bonnie. I have compulsions of checking windows so Ted won’t escape. He has done a runner before and has been lost. I couldn’t cope during that time. Why would my dear boy run from me??

Grind me down I swear to my voices under my breath. You will never rule me. They say to panic and my heart races; it feels as if I can’t catch but a moment from their silly rules. Merc, wake up! I open my eyes to see my mum standing in my room as per usual, every time I try to sleep. “You were shouting in your sleep” she said. I feel my face and wipe away a tear. It was a dream, amongst others I’ve had before. I must go out soon to walk Harley. Me and mum like to take to the beach as way back then so did Bonnie. Harvey is fascinated by the sea. He loves to run around on the beach and get stuck in the sand. Good times.. Beat me, grind me and take me to hell, I will survive. Anxiety almost ruined me; infecting my mind with vicious circles that spiral out of control. I sleep to avoid my mind. At least when I’m asleep; I feel no pain, no anxiety and finally have peace. I worry about the smallest of things nowadays, like what will Ted eat although I know full well he has food and water. What will happen to him? I question, without no context to the thought. Why can I not seem to think of a way out from these stupid little thoughts. I push them back but end up overwhelmed by the sheer nature of intrusive, and utmost negative pattens.

Trauma, I went through a lot of death growing up. I had no way of coping back then. I was brought up in a household where showing emotion was a bad idea. She nodded, as she mad notes. Counselling hasn’t always been useful but then, at times, all one needs is to open up enough to express concerns and thoughts, in a way that has a positive outcome. I never adjusted to feeling happy. Feeling as if I had no care in the world, but things are as best as they can be overall.As I was about to leave the counselling session, I heard two people talking in the corridor. Walls have ears you know, don’t they? I thought to myself as I left the room. Mum was waiting outside in the car for me. A familiar face, a loving lady, my brother and I were lucky to have been adopted by her. As I shut the car door she asked “how was it?”, Yeah it was fine I said. As we were driving away from the building, I said, anxiety ruined me, but I survive, mum agreed in a mumbled and oddly comforting way. She had to deal with the death of my dad back then and survived. During that time, I gave her a listening ear and looked out for her and my brother. Lean on the right person, hold their hands and forgive. Forgiveness is a good thing and a way to move forward in life. Why? Because you only live once, tread lightly, as your foot prints follow you in this world.

[mencnfire]

her touch is something craved - a warmth entwined in fingers, heat that spreads through skin and has him glow. to feel the flesh of another against ones skin is one thing but to touch them; an act so simple - for kazuhira, it's trust. it's seeing beyond what eyes can see. her hand is soft, her fingers slender - manicured nails but nothing excessive - he can feel the rough of her finger tips. hard-working hands. the slightest smile edges along his lips; beauty never tarnished despite the best efforts of her job.

with the space lessened between them, he edges himself beside her - sits so closely now that his voice gets away with being a whisper. that lasting hand of his moving from her own to instead her shoulder. perhaps inappropriate but neither would dwell - not when he responds with a story. "so you like mythology, huh? legends-?" his smile remains ( despite the muted way in which the blonde would express himself ). "hm, if only we had that globe" he bares a grin, the thought of teaching a geography lesson right here and now somewhat amusing. did he come across as a teacher? well- it'd make sense. he had once been branded 'hellmaster miller' after all. a fearsome instructor; no bullshit - only work. of course, he'd not be so hard on his favourite student. the thought keeps his smile still.

with the rain hammering down on the window pane and the sky outside, dark - his hand instinctively falls from her shoulder to her arm, keeps his grip loose but his hand there all-the-while. is all too aware that she could be cold. sees it as his gentlemanly responsibility to keep her warm.

"i've met my fair share of legends" one comes to mind "they're-" a shrug of his shoulder "usually exaggerated." and for a second, his smile would wane - eyes dashed away, a moment of reflection before a clear of his throat and squeeze of his hand. "greece and italy are wonderful places to go though-" he nods "friendly atmosphere, good food. not to mention the sun." perhaps they could go together? "as for egypt - i've - uh-" when had he ventured there? as part of a militia - but of course, he'd not mention that "only ever been through there. always wanted t'see the pyramids though." he keeps his eyes on her - talks as if not to speak of the place but rather, a person ( perhaps the one sat beside him ) "heard they're a real marvel t'look at"

anything that could be ( correctly ) assumed to be flirting quickly shifts to a serious answer to her question; kazuhira so used to the query regarding his upbringing. his blonde hair and once blue eyes a common point of mockery as a child, his japanese upbringing something of an anomaly to the americans in his life. he takes a breath -

"i guess it is unique - everywhere, really. see- it means 'peace' in japanese" when had he said this before? "my mother...for all of the things that she was or wasn't, believed in that. ultimately" his head bows "she was a woman who only wanted th'best for those around her." he hesitates for a moment, thinks of the mother who had raised him as a boy and died far-too-young; shakes the thoughts from his head when he turns back to melissa, his lips edging slightly into a softer smile now. "but if i had to tell you my favourite place-"

on a beach, watching a sunset. his eyes had struggled so badly with the sun but to watch gold spill over the horizon? hear the gentle coo of the waves against the sand? and more-so; to share it with somebody? that's where he wants to go. that's where he wants to be.

"...ha- how 'bout we make a deal?" he shifts his fingers back to entwine within hers, leans in so close now that his lips - with a pucker - could kiss her own "when i get outta here - i'll show you my favourite place."

The way he mentioned her being the difficult one to negotiate with caused a chuckle to emerge - not a cynical reaction to his notorious temper with other caretakers, but a mere display of the fondness she felt for him. In a way, Kazuhira made it all sound as if he would seal his lips and say nothing to anyone but for her... For Melissa, he would spill all the secrets of his adventurous tales abroad.

At his invitation, the brunette almost let out a sound of surprise - the need to run around and ease that motion for him was immediate, but in a way, Melissa was glad that she delayed to act - despite the signs of pain, that Kazuhira was able to place himself in the position he desired was a good thing. These small moments of autonomy were important - and she didn't want him to feel like he depended on her for everything. As much as it brought some warmth to the nurse's heart to be needed, ultimately Melissa wished to see all her patients well.

(The idea that Kazuhira would leave her, too, was not one she was prepared to deal with. But, fortunately, not a thought she needed to entertain or acknowledge for that stormy night.)

"You're already making this so exciting - I almost wished we had one of the old globes used for Geography class," the woman commented with a smile, but taking the wordless invitation to sit with him. The increased space over the bed took her weight easily, the furniture fitted to withstand much more than their combined bodies, and Melissa hummed in thought while linking hands again. It wasn't necessary - the lingering touches were not needed when Kazuhira knew his room surroundings very well, but maybe she could hide behind the excuse that these would allow her to express her emotions in response to the tales to be shared.

"I have some preferences of my own... I was always really fascinated by the old places we learned about in class: ancient Egypt, Greece, the Roman Empire," the nurse mentioned, just another girl who had her interest provoked by ancient civilizations that everyone studied at some point. These had never been definitive in the path her life (professional or personal) took later, but it remained as some sort of hobby. But now, even if Kazuhira had been to these locations that she had seen in books and television documentaries alone, these wouldn't be her first choices.

"But tell me about your favorite place - if you could show me the spot you love the most in all of the planet, where would it be?" the nurse asked, turning her face to the side so there was plenty of room to observe Kazuhira and the signs that would wash over his visage. Melissa was curious - his file was an unusual one and his name told her plenty, too; raised in Japan but with mixed blood - yet no trace of an accent lingered. Was his favorite place away from home? What even was home to a man who had been all over the place?

"Ever since I was given your file, I've always wondered... Your name is so unique. I guess I imagine your preferred place being so very far away from here."

[storyarcscribe]

Judgement

Namor x Reader

Word Count: 870

Summary: You chose humanity over your heart. And now you were here to face judgement by the person who shattered it.

A/N: No Namor fics yet? *Thanos Voice* Fine…. I’ll do it myself. (LMK if we are digging this for a part 2 lol)

Warnings: 18+ Only, Lil smut (if I do a part 2 there will be more lol), angst, implied previous smut, possessiveness, suicidal thoughts, war, wakanda forever spoilers, possible incorrect Mayan language translation (tried my best with research but if anyone out there has feedback please let me know!!!)

Masterlist and How to Send a Prompt

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

-

You shouldn’t be here.

War raged, and yet you found yourself on the sand, standing at the edge of a turbulent ocean. The waves churned just as turmoil stirred in your veins. Your guilted thoughts raced, tears filling your eyes.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry.

You stepped into the surf, too numb to the feeling of its icy waters.

I deserve this.

Forgive me.

The water stilled, as if in the eye of the hurricane.

And then, he emerged from the surface, molten eyes filled with wrath.

The wrath of a god.

Ku'ku'lkán.

Namor.

You fell to your knees, sand biting into the skin, transfixed by his fury.

He was just as you remembered so long ago…. So painfully beautiful, like the sight of a wave eroding a cliff side.

He became more than a god to you. Friend. Companion. Lover.

In the beginning, all he asked for was your loyalty and silence on him and his people. You gave him not only this but love. In return, he revealed himself parts of himself to you in those moments together, slowly showing you all of himself over time.

He gifted you something he never gave to anyone on land.

Trust and devotion.

You were gladly blinded by this dream of a man and woman in love... A man who made you laugh so hard until your sides hurt, painted you beautiful stories of his kingdom with words, brought you art and trinkets from the depths of his home, confided in you, taught you his mother’s tongue, and coaxed your utter undoing each night with his hands, his mouth, and his body.

He was the water, current, waves, and the depths of an ocean and people.

You fell in love with a god.

But a god cannot love a person who betrayed him and his people.

He chose war against humanity instead of you.

And you chose humanity instead of your heart.

He promised to kill you if you ever stepped into an ocean again the day you parted.

You deserved his wrath, forsaking him for the world above. This war had waged too long with violence committed on both sides, but the people of Talokan, who you had come to love through Namor, were being slaughtered. The guilt disintegrated what left of your heart remained. And you came here before your anguish consumes you, knowing it was would be the end.

You didn’t realize your head had bowed in shame until you felt the cool blade of his spear tuck under your chin, lifting it up.

His face was blurred in your tear-soaked vision, but you could see eyes churned with an emotion you feared to never see….

Rage. Anguish.

Your tears flowed silently, pinching your lips together for fear of choking on your breath.

He just stood there, the pressure of the blade never increasing or decreasing. He had seen battle since you last saw him, three distinct claw marks scarring his cheek. You ached for him and his suffering in this war. If only you stayed. If only you chose him.

If only.

If only.

If only.

And then the blade left your chin. He slammed the tip of it into the ocean floor, the sound of it rippling across the water.

Namor extended his hand.

You didn’t hesitate to place it in his, the warmth of his hand enveloping yours like the sun.

Namor’s eyes had calmed, the tempest in them before now a gentle current. You were lulled by them as he brought you to your feet.

He pulled you with him further into the water, his eyes remaining fixed upon yours.

And once you were weightless in the ocean, he pulled you to him, your body flush against his own with hand wrapped around your back. You’re warmed, the memories and feeling of him radiating through your body.

He cupped your cheek with one hand.

His decision was made, eyes softening.

Forgiveness.

Namor chose forgiveness.

And then you broke, tears continuing to fall as you sobbed. “Ma'taali'teeni' ajawo’.”

I’m sorry, my king.

That same hand gripped the back of your neck, your face now tipped up to meet his own. You could barely breathe as his gaze burned through your own.

And he breathed one word, carving it into your soul.

Mine.

His mouth crashed into yours, coaxing it open where he poured his fury, rage, forgiveness, and love with your own. He stole your breath, suffocating it as he adored your lips, your jaw, your neck. He repeated the word to you over and over again. Your core pulsed with the heartbeat rushing through your ears.

And then he murmured new words in whispers over and over your skin.

In k'aatech.

I love you.

You whimpered, tilting your head to the sky and arching into him as his adoration became desperate. He lavished an open kiss on the pendant at the base of your neck… A gift he gave you the first night he made love to you.

You were his that day long before he spoke the words to you now.

And then his mouth found yours again before he pulled you under a swelling wave, sending you both beneath the surface into that vast, endless blue.

To his home.

To Talokan.

-

A/N: TENOCH ILY I AM NOT OVER THIS MAN AND THIS MOVIEEE

Update: part 2 is being worked on 🫶😽

[fozmeadows]

race & culture in fandom

For the past decade, English language fanwriting culture post the days of LiveJournal and Strikethrough has been hugely shaped by a handful of megafandoms that exploded across AO3 and tumblr – I’m talking Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Dr Who, the MCU, Harry Potter, Star Wars, BBC Sherlock – which have all been overwhelmingly white. I don’t mean in terms of the fans themselves, although whiteness also figures prominently in said fandoms: I mean that the source materials themselves feature very few POC, and the ones who are there tended to be done dirty by the creators.

Periodically, this has led POC in fandom to point out, extremely reasonably, that even where non-white characters do get central roles in various media properties, they’re often overlooked by fandom at large, such that the popular focus stays primarily on the white characters. Sometimes this happened (it was argued) because the POC characters were secondary to begin with and as such attracted less fan devotion (although this has never stopped fandoms from picking a random white gremlin from the background cast and elevating them to the status of Fave); at other times, however, there has been a clear trend of sidelining POC leads in favour of white alternatives (as per Finn, Poe and Rose Tico being edged out in Star Wars shipping by Hux, Kylo and Rey). I mention this, not to demonize individuals whose preferred ships happen to involve white characters, but to point out the collective impact these trends can have on POC in fandom spaces: it’s not bad to ship what you ship, but that doesn’t mean there’s no utility in analysing what’s popular and why through a racial lens.

All this being so, it feels increasingly salient that fanwriting culture as exists right now developed under the influence and in the shadow of these white-dominated fandoms – specifically, the taboo against criticizing or critiquing fics for any reason. Certainly, there’s a hell of a lot of value to Don’t Like, Don’t Read as a general policy, especially when it comes to the darker, kinkier side of ficwriting, and whether the context is professional or recreational, offering someone direct, unsolicited feedback on their writing style is a dick move. But on the flipside, the anti-criticism culture in fanwriting has consistently worked against fans of colour who speak out about racist tropes, fan ignorance and hurtful portrayals of living cultures. Voicing anything negative about works created for free is seen as violating a core rule of ficwriting culture – but as that culture has been foundationally shaped by white fandoms, white characters and, overwhelmingly, white ideas about what’s allowed and what isn’t, we ought to consider that all critical contexts are not created equal.

Right now, the rise of C-drama (and K-drama, and J-drama) fandoms is seeing a surge of white creators – myself included – writing fics for fandoms in which no white people exist, and where the cultural context which informs the canon is different to western norms. Which isn’t to say that no popular fandoms focused on POC have existed before now – K-pop RPF and anime fandoms, for example, have been big for a while. But with the success of The Untamed, more western fans are investing in stories whose plots, references, characterization and settings are so fundamentally rooted in real Chinese history and living Chinese culture that it’s not really possible to write around it. And yet, inevitably, too many in fandom are trying to do just that, treating respect for Chinese culture or an attempt to understand it as optional extras – because surely, fandom shouldn’t feel like work. If you’re writing something for free, on your own time, for your own pleasure, why should anyone else get to demand that you research the subject matter first?

Because it matters, is the short answer. Because race and culture are not made-up things like lightsabers and werewolves that you can alter, mock or misunderstand without the risk of hurting or marginalizing actual real people – and because, quite frankly, we already know that fandom is capable of drawing lines in the sand where it chooses. When Brony culture first reared its head (hah), the online fandom for My Little Pony – which, like the other fandoms we’re discussing here, is overwhelmingly female – was initially welcoming. It felt like progress, that so many straight men could identify with such a feminine show; a potential sign that maybe, we were finally leaving the era of mainstream hypermasculine fandom bullshit behind, at least in this one arena. And then, in pretty much the blink of an eye, things got overwhelmingly bad. Artists drawing hardcorn porn didn’t tag their works as adult, leading to those images flooding the public search results for a children’s show. Women were edged out of their own spaces. Bronies got aggressive, posting harsh, ugly criticism of artists whose gijinka interpretations of the Mane Six as humans were deemed insufficiently fuckable.

The resulting fandom conflict was deeply unpleasant, but in the end, the verdict was laid down loud and clear: if you cannot comport yourself like a decent fucking person – if your base mode of engagement within a fandom is to coopt it from the original audience and declare it newly cool only because you’re into it now; if you do not, at the very least, attempt to understand and respect the original context so as to engage appropriately (in this case, by acknowledging that the media you’re consuming was foundational to many women who were there before you and is still consumed by minors, and tagging your goddamn porn) – then the rest of fandom will treat you like a social biohazard, and rightly so.

Here’s the thing, fellow white people: when it comes to C-drama fandoms and other non-white, non-western properties? We are the Bronies.

Not, I hasten to add, in terms of toxic fuckery – though if we don’t get our collective shit together, I’m not taking that darkest timeline off the table. What I mean is that, by virtue of the whiteminding which, both consciously and unconsciously, has shaped current fan culture, particularly in terms of ficwriting conventions, we’re collectively acting as though we’re the primary audience for narratives that weren’t actually made with us in mind, being hostile dicks to Chinese and Chinese diaspora fans when they take the time to point out what we’re getting wrong. We’re bristling because we’ve conceived of ficwriting as a place wherein No Criticism Occurs without questioning how this culture, while valuable in some respects, also serves to uphold, excuse and perpetuate microaggresions and other forms of racism, lashing out or falling back on passive aggression when POC, quite understandably, talk about how they’re sick and tired of our bullshit.

An analogy: one of the most helpful and important tags on AO3 is the one for homophobia, not just because it allows readers to brace for or opt out of reading content they might find distressing, but because it lets the reader know that the writer knows what homophobia is, and is employing it deliberately. When this concept is tagged, I – like many others – often feel more able to read about it than I do when it crops up in untagged works of commercial fiction, film or TV, because I don’t have to worry that the author thinks what they’re depicting is okay. I can say definitively, “yes, the author knows this is messed up, but has elected to tell a messed up story, a fact that will be obvious to anyone who reads this,” instead of worrying that someone will see a fucked up story blind and think “oh, I guess that’s fine.” The contextual framing matters, is the point – which is why it’s so jarring and unpleasant on those rare occasions when I do stumble on a fic whose author has legitimately mistaken homophobic microaggressions for cute banter. This is why, in a ficwriting culture that otherwise aggressively dislikes criticism, the request to tag for a certain thing – while still sometimes fraught – is generally permitted: it helps everyone to have a good time and to curate their fan experience appropriately.

But when white and/or western fans fail to educate ourselves about race, culture and the history of other countries and proceed to deploy that ignorance in our writing, we’re not tagging for racism as a thing we’ve explored deliberately; we’re just being ignorant at best and hateful at worst, which means fans of colour don’t know to avoid or brace for the content of those works until they get hit in the face with microaggresions and/or outright racism. Instead, the burden is placed on them to navigate a minefield not of their creation: which fans can be trusted to write respectfully? Who, if they make an error, will listen and apologise if the error is explained? Who, if lived experience, personal translations or cultural insights are shared, can be counted on to acknowledge those contributions rather than taking sole credit? Too often, fans of colour are being made to feel like guests in their own house, while white fans act like a tone-policing HOA.

Point being: fandom and ficwriting cultures as they currently exist badly need to confront the implicit acceptance of racism and cultural bias that underlies a lot of community rules about engagement and criticism, and that needs to start with white and western fans. We don’t want to be the new Bronies, guys. We need to do better.  

[aro-comics]

Clay Pride Pin Tutorial!

Again, since this kind of long the rest of it is under the cut. 

A fun and (hopefully) straightforward tutorial on how I make my clay pride pins! 💚💚💚The reason I made this tutorial is becuase I know how hard it is to find pride merch sometimes, given costs of buying from stores online and shipping too (I've heard one too many horror stories of customs fees when buying from the states) 😭😭 If you're in a position like that, or if for whatever reason you just can't buy pride themed items, you can still make your own in a really subtle way! It's also a great craft if you want to make a few extra pins while you're at it for friends 💚💚✨ On my notes from the tutorial itself: Sandpaper - Personally, I have a lot of sanding tools because of my degree, but by no means do you need to have all the bells and whistles to be able to make pins! You can definitely get some sandpaper from the dollar store or similar places if you or nobody you know has any. But, if you are like me and value *craftsmanship* 😤😂 I'd totally recommend getting a dremel or small files if you have them/can borrow, and really go to town on sanding down the pins. It's not the end of the world if you don't, but you can get a REALLY smooth, rounded form that looks fantastic. Paint - Again, it's one of those things where if you have the nice stuff (acryla gouache), that's fantastic, but you definitely don't need to go out and spend a lot of money on it! You can buy a far cheaper and still REALLY good crafter's acrylic at most craft stores, or even the dolalr store. They're generally a dollar or two for a bottle, and you really only need black/white plus the basic colours in your flag. Alright that's it, if you're somehow still reading I hope you like it! 🥺🥺 Let me know if you have questions, I'll do my best to answer!! 💚💚💚 And I'll be back next week with the usual stuff 🐸

[Image Description:

Slide 1: Cover Slide. Title reads: “Celia’s Clay Pride Pin Tutorial”. Celia is pictured wearing a black jean jacket adorned with heart shaped pan and aro pins, as well as a frog. She gestures to the title, and she says “Customize for your own flags!”. In the corner is a photo of the pins in real life, with a note that says “The final product”. 

Slide 2: [Note: All of the tutorial from here on out might be a bit text heavy, so I will paste the original script with necessary descriptions]

About & Materials:

About - “This Tutorial is aimed specifically at making heart shaped pins for collars! You can of course adapt the info here to create pins of your own design too”

What you will need: 

Clay - either air dry or polymer can work. If you only want to make a few pins I recommend finding a small pack of polymer on sale (about two dollars canadian).

A smooth surface - I’m using a tile

A roller - not for food, you can use a cardboard tube in a pinch

A knife/sharp edge

Superglue

Pin Backings

Sandpaper (note: please check description for more thoughts)

Paint - acrylic gouache, see description for cheaper alternatives

Paintbrushes

Gesso and Acrylic varnish

In the bottom right a picture of most of these materials, save for the gesso and acrylic varnish, are pictured. 

Slide 3: Steps, an Overview

Roll out your clay

Cut out desired shape

Let dry/bake/boil

Sand! (the word sand is written out again, spaced out, for dramatic effect)

Glue backing

Gesso

Paint your flag!

Varnish/Let Dry!

Slide 4: Step 1: Roll out clay [A photo of Celia rolling out the clay, with an accompanying photo showing her measuring the slab she rolls out. It is 0.5 cm thick]. “I recommend using 0.5 cm thickness for this design”

Step 2: Cut out shapes [Photo of celia cutting out heart shape with an exacto knife, then her holding up the finished heart shape to show viewer]. “Pretty straightforward [shrug emoji] you can cut out a paper template to be extra precise”

Slide 5: Step 3: Let dry (for air dry clay) [A picture of dried air dry clay hearts made from crayola brand air dry clay is shown; it apparently took around 1 day to dry]

… or for polymer clay, boil/bake according to instructions. 

A note from Celia: I personally boil all my polymer pins and I highly recommend it. You don’t need to wipe down your oven after, and you can buy a pot specifically for this purpose for cheap from a secondhand store. 

Slide 6: Step 4: Sand! 

A few pictures of Celia sanding down the pins are shown. Her process is 1) And down the front/back to smooth, then rounding down the sides with a file and sandpaper. 

Text: “... I could ramble a lot about sanding [sweat drop emoji], but I’ll spare y’all the rant. Just smooth down any imperfections to get a shape you like, I recommend 220 grit sandpaper. If you have some files, or a dremel, use them!”

Slide 7: Steps 5 and 6: Glue pin backing and Gesso (... pretty self explanatory).

A series of photos showing Celia gluing down the pin backing to a sanded pin, then her holding the pin with said backing as she applies gesso. 

Slide 8: Step 7: Paint! A few photos showing Celia with a blank pin and some aro flag colours mixed out, then another photo showing her applying the paint to the pin. 

Text: “Now paint your desired flag! I recommend doing the top and bottom stripes a bit thicker, if only so they look proportional from the front.È

Slide 9: Step 8: Varnish

A photo of Celia holding up a bottle of liquitex gloss varnish, and a note pointing to it that says I use acrylic varnish, but some people use UV varnish. 

Another photo of Celia applying varnish to a pin. Text says: “Once your paint is dry, apply your varnish! Whatever you do, don’t water down the varnish. I try to apply 2 to 3 coats, after each previous coat dries.”

Slide 10: … and you’re done! 

A photo of Celia wearing the pins in real life on a jean jacket. She has a pan and aro pin, and on the other side an aro flag painted on a rainbow shape. 

[necarion]

I think you might be right. Show Nynaeve needs to learn to get in touch with her power and gain her confidence and learn that she really is a good person to be an Aes Sedai, and suddenly will be able to reach her full potential!

The problem (in adaptation, not to your theory), as @jadagul and I have been discussing, is that Nynaeve is the only one of the Two Rivers folks who starts the story as a nominally responsible adult. Who still has a lot to learn. But she doesn't need to "come out" in any fashion. She does need to learn to accept who she is, but only after accepting that she is in fact one of the best Aes Sedai, who doesn't give a shit what the other Aes Sedai say. She has to deal with suddenly not being treated like an adult and hating that. There's a lot you can do, but if you shove her into a "the power of self-motivation" that all goes away.

Kind of amusingly, they're getting it almost right with Egwene. Because they know how to do Girlboss as a character type. Just in their view, Egwene has to learn practical skills (like channeling) but is already as Girlboss as she's ever going to need to be. She is the only one of the children who doesn't start out acting much like a child (in the show, she's still a goofball in the books for a while, who spends a lot of time screwing with Rand for the fun of it.) I just don't think she's going to have a lot of room to actually grow. We're just going to be told how much stronger she actually is, despite her being basically this strong from the beginning.

I think, also, Rafe is leaning into a few complaints from a particular segment of the fandom. I read the books as an adult (25ish), and so I recognized that Nynaeve was a flawed adult who is trying very hard to seem like a real grown-up to those around her. People who read the books at 16 just read her as a bitch of an authority figure. And there is a sizeable fandom segment who is delighted to see her hard edges rounded off, so she can be the loving nurturing Wisdom they always wanted her to be.

And when you sand off Nynaeve's edges, you make her perfect. So of course you have to nerf her, pretty spectacularly. And then you have to allow her to channel when angry or scared. And then because she's in terrifying situation so much of the time, she needs to be too scared to channel even when scared.

And then you end up with this sad, pathetic sack who cannot heal, who cannot channel usefully, and who makes basically things a little (or even a lot!) worse through her massive fuck-ups. [more in next post]

I realize I complain about this a lot. Book!Nynaeve is just one of my favorite characters in fiction, and this character nerfing is hitting me harder than a lot of others.

Having finished Wheel of Time Episode 5:

What the fuck are they doing with my girl Nynaeve?

How do they get from "greatest healer ever, and so angry at injustice that she creates miracles out of spite" to "poor little meow meow who doesn't heal and cannot do the simplest thing ever?" She gets so many great moments at Falme in the books. And they gave the magic and the street smarts to novice reckless rich kid.

Nynaeve is, by far, my favorite character in all of Wheel of Time. And the show could basically cut her with nearly zero impact.

[rebrandedbard]

Number 16 - “It could be worse.”

My writing method is just chucking prompt phrases into a mixing bowl with Cool Historical Artistry Facts, a pinch of aesthetic, and a dash of lore, baking it in a pressure cooker and seeing what we get and I love that you encourage this.

16. “It could be worse.”

wc: 1738

Thunderstruck

Geralt and Jaskier come face to face with a violent lightning storm and hide out in a cave. Jaskier is afraid of thunder and lightning. Geralt helps him through it.

-

 Zeniths were a spectacle. To be present in the height of a storm, to be in the midst of its power and bear witness to its thrall is a mighty thing, even in its horror. It served as a reminder of one’s insignificance, and what a magnificent blessing it was to be thus. Jaskier stared out at the storm in awe. He jumped back from the mouth of the cave with a shriek as a bolt of lightning crashed down, splitting the bark from a tree not fifty paces away. Strong arms reached out to catch him as he went stumbling backward.

“It could be worse,” Geralt joked.

The thunder’s echo still rumbled through the cave’s walls, dying under the crash of another, and another, the cave never silent. Jaskier covered his ears and scowled at Geralt. “Oh really?” he asked, raising his voice against the deafening noise. “I feel I’m inside a war drum! I’m jumping out of my skin!” There was a crackling in the atmosphere that stood his hair on end. He’d never experienced anything more frightening in his life, and he’d had to drag Geralt from the edge of death with a mad nightwraith on the prowl.

He shouted and buried himself under Geralt’s arm as another bolt of lightning touched the earth, the sound following not a fraction of an instance after the light flashed. “Why is it touching the ground?” he panted, heart racing in his chest like a frantic horse. His skin was pale in the darkness, almost white, illuminated by the flash of lightning. He shook, his eyes wide with fear. “It’s so close. I swear, a god is trying to smite us, Geralt.”

Another crash outside and Jaskier tucked his head, hands flat against his ears. He whimpered, and Geralt had never known him to show such fear. The fear he knew was comical at times, more urgency or discomfort than any true terror. But this—this was a fear Geralt knew in others. Jaskier reeked of it, and it burned to breathe it in.

Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier, leading him back into the depths of the cave where Roach waited. He set to work making camp, removing the saddle and setting out their bedrolls. With a tug, he pulled Jaskier down onto one, then positioned Jaskier so he lay with his head against his arm. He placed his own hand over Jaskier’s other ear so the sound was twice as muffled.

“Close your eyes,” Geralt said. He then made a sign with his hand and a bright purple glow spread over them. The storm seemed to disappear, only the low bass rumbling through. It sounded distant as if their heads were under water.

Jaskier opened his eyes, blinking in the odd glow. He slowly pulled his hands away from his ears, squinting at the pulsating barrier in a dome around them. “Is this …?”

“Quen,” Geralt answered. “It … dampens the noise.”

Jaskier turned his head to look at him. “You used a sign for me? But you said using signs outside of battle was frivolous.”

Geralt did not meet his eye. He shrugged, putting his hands over Jaskier’s ears once more. “It’s a precaution. In case the storm collapses the cave,” he grunted.

“And covering my ears as we lay together?”

“Would you rather I cover your mouth?”

Jaskier managed a nervous laugh. His heartbeat began to slow—cautiously—and his trembling to cease. He closed his eyes once more. To Geralt’s surprise, Jaskier rolled over, tucking his head beneath his chin. Geralt’s hand fell over his shoulders, cradling him.

For a moment, Geralt felt uncertain. But as Jaskier nestled, breathing gently against him, he wrapped his arms more securely around his form. Though there was little need with the barrier in place, he flattened one hand over Jaskier’s exposed ear and used the motion to tuck his head closer. They lay together until the storm passed, the hours fading into sleep.

 Geralt followed the faint hum of his medallion in the early dawn. His boots crunched over the splinter of charred wood. The fragments littered the area, and the tree had collapsed in the night. He found the place they’d been camping before the rain broke over their heads. The wood of their campfire now lay in a soaking pile, barely blackened. Beyond their camp lay the sandy shore of the lake, and it was there that his medallion led.

Upon the yellow sands he crouched. He brushed the sands carefully as he searched. It was something he’d read about before, something left in the wake of powerful storms when the sky reached down to touch the earth. In the old tales, it was meant as a gift from the gods; a promise that no storm should ever again harm the one blessed with it. The stories were so old, he thought they had no true merit, but the medallion made him rethink his position. He felt a solid bump on the surface of the sand and dug around it. As he dug, a strange tendril emerged. Then another, like the root of a tree in its shape.

Geralt dug the lightning from the earth, made solid and harmless. The glass was explosive, its many branches reaching outward, smooth in places where the lightning melted the sand best, grainy in others. He turned it in his hands, struck with wonder. Touching the thin ends of one branch, the glass snapped free. Upon examination he found that it was hollow within; the lightning had escaped its vessel.

Fishing out his dagger, Geralt selected a wide tendril and scored one end. He tapped it with the handle of his dagger and it fell free in his hand with a clean line. He scored it again, tapped, and a ring fell from the glass. After a bit of searching in his bag, he found a sanding block, pasted with dogfish. He sprinkled a pinch of sand over the block and rubbed the sharp ends of the glass ring over the abrasive surface, smoothing them away.

He washed the ring in the lake and tested its edge carefully. When he was sure the edge was dull, he fished a length of leather cord from his bag and looped it around, tying off the ends. He wrapped the rest of the glass in his spare clothes and carried the lot back to the cave.

By this time, Jaskier was beginning to stir.

Geralt tapped his shoulder. “Hey,” he coaxed. “Wake up, I’ve brought you something.”

Jaskier turned over groggily. “Is it breakfast?” he asked. “If it is, you can leave it by the fire. I’ll get to it. Just … twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes indeed. Geralt chuckled and pried one of Jaskier’s eyes opened. “It’s not breakfast. It’s something rare. Something I think you’ll find fascinating.”

“Can’t I be fascinated in the late morning for a change?” Jaskier complained. But in spite of the early hour, he sat upright and rubbed his eyes. “Alright, I’m up. What’s so rare and fascinating? Are we off to see some nigh-extinct bird that only comes out at dawn in this isolated range of the mountain? Some magical fish that walks on land two days of the year during mating season?”

“Give me your hand,” Geralt said.

Jaskier squinted at him in suspicion. “Geralt of Rivia, I swear: if you’ve woken me up to put a bug in my hands, I will spit in your eye.”

Geralt sighed as he reached into his bag. “It’s not a bug. Will you just do it?”

Cautiously, Jaskier held out his hand, still keeping it rigidly close to snatch away should he spy any hint of a creepy crawly thing, whether by leg or antenna. Geralt rolled his eyes and pulled his hand forward. He dropped the ring into his palm, letting the cord drape over the side.

Jaskier’s eye widened and he picked up the ring, inspecting it in the early morning light. The glass was a marbled yellow and white, speckled with flecks here and there of brown and tiny black particles. “Oh,” he whispered in admiration. “Oh, what is it?”

“Fulgurite. Lightning glass.”

“Lightning glass?”

Geralt nodded. “When lightning strikes sand, it melts it into its shape. There are stories of it, though I’d never seen it before. In some stories, the lightning becomes trapped in the glass, released only when it is broken; a punishment from the gods for those who wished to claim their power of nature for themselves.”

He opened his bag and removed the hollow glass for Jaskier to inspect. “There are friendlier stories,” he explained, “wherein the glass is a blessing. After difficult storms pass, a mass of fulgurite is left behind. He who finds it and carries it with him is blessed with fair weather all his days. The hollow in the glass is the eye of the storm, the one place of calm amid the chaos.”

Jaskier poked a finger through the eye of the ring. “Fascinating doesn’t begin to cover it. Song worthy better hits the mark.” He passed Geralt the ring as he packed away the glass once more, but Geralt stopped him, closing his hand around the ring.

“I want you to keep it,” he said. “To protect you. Lightning will never strike near you so long as you wear it.”

Jaskier stared down at his fist, opening it slowly to reveal the cold glass ring within. “I thought you didn’t believe in stories like that,” he replied.

Geralt picked up the ring by its cord and lowered it round Jaskier’s neck. “Some stories—some superstitions—are facts forgotten by time. Whether or not it truly will guard you from storms, we’ll learn in time, but I can feel that there is magic in this.  There are charms in this world, if you know where to find them.”

Jaskier pressed the tips of his fingers to the ring, a small smile tugging his lips. It rested against his collar with a comforting weight. When he looked at Geralt, his eyes were bright and crinkled at the corners.

“Thank you, Geralt.”

He stood up, one hand on Geralt’s shoulder for balance. As he did, he leaned in and pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek in passing, then went to see about getting breakfast started.

Geralt knelt frozen on the spot.

Thunderstruck.