#but when i was a child i drew for my parents and as a pre teen i quickly learnt to draw for likes and comments

[the-mad-owl]

Posting art online is so discouraging. I have the direct comparison of handing out the pride stickers irl - they're so cute, woah did you make those yourself, thank you so much here's stickers in return, so many people were brought joy by my art - and posting them online - 3 likes 1 reblog, dead.

This isn't to beg for interaction and more to say... if I had to start drawing all over again, in today's social media environment, I don't think I would manage.

Tumblr's friends/mutuals/reblog structure is breaking down, and while instagram used to be the place for artists and I was able to gain followers that enjoyed my art through the use of specific Hashtags, nowadays the feature to search by latest is removed and the algorithm punishes your harshly for being a small account or average at your skill.

Looking only at my social media, one should think I am getting worse and worse at art, I started out being quite good and worth seeing and 8 years later I have forgotten how to draw. This isn't true of course, I am improving. But there's no way to gain a kind word anymore, no artists at roughly the same level as me to find me and follow me for a friend through interaction. Nor am I able to search out people like me myself, tumblr is... tumblr (currently still the best option), and the algorithms of all other apps only recommend me the best and most entertaining.

Now I don't do good strategies. I still mainly use tags, nothing else. I don't post according to user schedules or make art to show off every single week, my art account is new and was dead for a while, i don't use fanart to draw people's attention. I don't know how to make tiktoks of my art - I aim to create pictures and be good at that, not make video content.

Of course I don't get much interaction. But the comparison: The same art, handed to people online and in real life, both for free, both by a stranger, is so striking. People are happy about your art, they like it, they really do, but by posting it it's rare to get that feeling anymore. I hope new artists keep drawing.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: Transness and Physio

Wednesday I was at physio as is generally the case on Wednesdays this physio cycle. (Current goals: Arm unsupported above my shoulder prolonged to the front at all to the side, Undoing damage from the wrong sling the first two weeks of healing, and strength building). My main pre-op physio had a free moment and stopped over to check on my between patients.

Him: How are you doing?

Me, cheekily: ready for this to be over.

Physios *laugh*

He turned to ask my physio for more detailed info. Which involved pronouns. Look, my pronouns are on file. My prefered name is unfailingly used by staff in this facility and all the healthcare settings I routinely used for… most of a decade or something like that. I used to have to pioneer a lot of health care providers, including Poverty clinic (second trans patient getting trans related health care there, back when there was one ignorant and low key transphobic provider, but it was far better than the extremely transphobic endocrinologist who wasn't taking new patients anyway so everyone had to trek down to seattle for everything), and just about every specialist I saw for years and years, often with people for whom English was a second language who were flat out confused my my medical charts.

For the record, once word spread (and trans provider word spread FAST on the trans grapevine) and Poverty clinic got deluged by desperate poor people who flat out couldn't afford 150-300 per health apointment and a whole day of travel, a second super cool doctor self educated and started taking patients. Within a year or two the whole staff had training. A couple years later they did a big survey, flat out changed the name of the clinic so as not to scare trans people, added prefered name/pronouns/gender to all forms and are a makor provider for two counties, providing an ever expanding range of care. Poverty clinic's main population had been HIV, kids who's parents couldn't afford health insurance, and unhoused. They are so much more now, and my whole reason is the better for it, because a whole lot of other practices got better and new services opened up all over the western part of my state to deal with demand that having two cities with trans heallthcare drew to the reagon. (A whole lot of other places have safe clinmics now and if you are in a blue county, you are likely okay to be fairly open. People can live in cheaper towns and cities and still have care a reasonable drive or bus away. It absolutely wasn't the case fifteen years ago. For some things the choices were seattle, san franscisco, and that one city in colorado. For hormones and trans friendly psychiatry it was only slightly better.) I am incredably proud of all the medical practices I pioneered and made safe for other people.

Thing is though, it's still not perfect. I'm pretty relaxed about pronouns, but where people are super careful about names, some people are waaaay better at pronouns than others. I bowl down the middle on purpose, in non-medical customer service settings, people take their best guess and I don't make a fuss unless someone else does or is obnoxious or I get duling customer service people who are in conflict and each sure they are right (Which is hilarious, but I consider it polite to step in at that point). I will back up a child if their parent corrects them to the wrong thing. I will happily give pronouns when a polite person asks.

In medical settings outside of places trying really hard to get it right like Poverty clinic or weirdly the Christian Hospital, people mess up pronouns about a third of the time. I think the masks make it more confusing for them and I am always in a mask in a medical setting unless I need to take it off for a medical thing.

The room in the physio clinic where I go, it is pretty much middle aged straight guy therapists (There's a woman sometimes and a younger guy I see doing legs now and then, but mostly it is middle aged straight guys who look like gym teachers. Guys like my late Uncle when I was growing up who was also a physio). Trans stuff doesn't come up. I spend the entire session working one on one with these guys, so while names get used now and then the pronouns are all 1st and 2nd person, you follow? There is enough conversation that I'm pretty sure none of the three guys who've worked on my arm are MAGAS. I peg them as likely democrats, but where on that spectrum? No fucking clue. They are all good guys and good physios. I do not know their stance on right to pee, you follow?

So the most classically straight ex-college athlete guy turns to the very gentle, very pacific northwesty type married with children postsurgical guy (I have no idea how to describe this type of northwest guy to someone who's never been here, but if you have it's really obvious. Loves being out in nature and likely has nature based hobbies. Cares about feminism and the environment in a genuine way. Relaxed about their masculinity and masculinity in general, so are usually some degree of queer friendly. Other stuff. It's hard to explain, but trust me. If you live here, you will meet a lot of this kind of guy. The two people I had my longest relationships with were this kind of PNW guy. I dated a bunch more. ), who is currently super slowly and gently stretching my arm, and asks him more technical stuff about my progress because he was worried I hadn't put on quite enough muscle before surgery.

This involved pronouns. Get this: THEY WERE THE CORRECT PRONOUNS. Both guys used correct pronouns. They also included me in the conversation. Bravo, Physio Dudes! Seriously, I had no idea how that was going to go when the pre-op guy opened his moth and it was A+.

[aprito]

(English is not my first language, so I apologize if what I say is not very understandable).

It left me thinking what you said about some people only being interested in your account to escape reality through fandom.

Have they even stopped to think that the canonical history of the fandom they follow is full of wars, and children used to kill?Aren't we all worshiping Sasori, who lost his parents in the war and then became an active participant himself, being just a child?

Are they so oblivious to the fact that these characters made us see the gray of a world full of death and violence, that they cannot realize that all these stories are a representation of the real behavior of our humanity?

Don't delete anything, please say everything you feel necessary to say. These people have me in shock.

Naruto's ""darker"" themes has always been an analysis of how inherently evil militarism, feudalism, hyper nationalism and exposing literal children to the horrors of war and death can be and how these systems enabling these horrors shouldn't exist. It's not black and white like you said, but there are beliefs that will always be red flags to me. Take the Uchiha massacre for example, which would be the closest comparison we can make to current events.

Unfortunately, partly due to Kishimoto's shitty centrist writing and due to how predispositioned and pre-propagandized the audience is, all of these conclusions can get glossed over and lost. How many in this fandom defended Konoha's violent pursuit of Sasuke for the longest time? Saying that he wasn't allowed to deal with Itachi, and then reprimanding him for turning his hatred towards the village? Worse, how many fawn over characters like Obito, Shisui, and especially Itachi - who had no qualms about endangering their clan and ultimatively agreeing that none of them deserved to oppose their oppressors and live? Konoha, not just Danzo, in turn had kept up a heavily propagandized image of the Uchiha due to their own personal hatred and beliefs. In Danzo's case, an excuse to get access to their organs for personal profit. Worse, they (Itachi, Shisui) didn't bother being honest with their own people, ultimatively not allowing them to escape or fight back. Contrast this against the hatred for Fugaku, who not once decided to act on his own and correctly pointed out that they have been ostracised and dehumanised for things they didn't do and feared it would get worse. Sound familiar? People are correct when they call the Uchiha massacre a genocide because that's what it was, but those are the people who actually drew from real life examples to criticially engage with the material.

Analysing real world struggle and applying that analysis to the narrative is the reason I continously empathize that Sasori's hatred for Suna shouldn't be glossed over for cushy high ranking positions because he just so happens to be talented. It's integral to his character and his actions, and it's a valid hatred to have. I honestly wish Kishimoto would have a fraction of enthusiasm for exposing the systems of oppressions as Oda has (a lot of conflicts in One Piece heavily, I mean HEAVILY, draw from the Cuban Revolution), because Naruto as a story would be far better off and probably would have more to say.

This also means, of course, that I recommend the audience to engage with this subject, and not fall for the propaganda of their oppressors <3 Palestine: A Socialist Introduction is currently free as an ebook for a start.

[roberrtphilip]

can you PLEASE tell me about a cherished birthday memory from robert’s past? just any time pre-canon. AND a cherished birthday from his post-canon life!!!

ough, okay, so I think for birthdays B.G. (before Giselle)

the one that stands out the most would probably be when Morgan was just about to turn four. I think she drew/painted him this picture of a cat 😺

she said it was for his birthday, and he was like, “it’s not my birthday… omg wait it’s my birthday!?!?” and I think he was just really touched that she knew that because, as we talked about yesterday, I headcanon he didn’t celebrate his birthday anymore. so, the fact that she knew it was his day, and surprised him, made him feel a little overwhelmed with Love, ya know ? just a very special memory (I’d really love to write it out some day, because it’s a very cute little father-daughter moment)

as for birthdays A.G. (after Giselle), I think every year is great, of course, but I think the first one he spent with her is like. ugh.

I have some dialogue written out where Giselle is asking him what he wants to do for his birthday, what he gifts he wants, how he usually celebrates, etc. and she’s beyond shocked when he says he doesn’t celebrate it. Robert explains that he’s had several of them, and after twenty-one they stop being exciting. and because Morgan’s birthday is just a few days after his, his main focus is always on her, and her happiness. but then Giselle hits him with, “but what about your happiness :((( you deserve to be celebrated too… :(”

hearing her say that kinda makes his heart skip a beat, and he gives in, and says maybe they could do something small, but you know Giselle, there’s no such thing as small 🤭

I plan on eventually writing the whole day out, but essentially, she surprises him in ways she deems “subtle” and “small”, though they’re absolutely not. she has a pigeon friend deliver flowers to his office, along with a card. and then, for lunch, she has one of their crow friends deliver his favorite food, again to his office, and his coworkers are very ???

when he gets home, the apartment is decorated with a big ol’ “Happy Birthday Robert !!” banner (made by Giselle and Morgan, of course), and Giselle makes his favorite dinner, and also bans him from the kitchen because there’s a ~surprise~ he’s not allowed to see (it’s cheesecake, his favorite 💖)

and they open gifts, which Giselle made him a fancy blue and black striped tie with his initials on the back, and she’s very proud because she’s never made one before !! and both she and Morgan made cards, too, and they worked together on a scarf, even though it’s still summer, because it will get cold eventually !!!!!

and Robert is just very overwhelmed with happiness, and love, and ugh !! like, with Nancy, this is not meant to bash her, so hopefully no one takes it that way, but I think with her, when Robert said he didn’t celebrate, she just accepted that and didn’t push or anything (she didn’t want to overstep, which is fine !!!!). but Robert needs to be pushed. not to the point of discomfort, of course, but he needs that little push !!! he forgot what being taken care of, and being celebrated, felt like after his parents died, and his ex left. and Morgan, of course, celebrated him in her own child-like way, but with Giselle it’s just. different !!!!!!!!

later, he happily falls asleep wrapped in Giselle’s arms, and listen... listen.... he’s in no way the Grinch, but I think his heart grew ten sizes that night 🥹🤧💙

[madamelebeau]

Birthday gush below for my beloved Gustave!

Warning, it's a long one, and touches on some personal struggles I have gone through including: severe mental illness, abuse of all manners, talks of suicidal ideation and actions, and general rough stuff - take care of yourself and know you don't have to read my sappy lil' stuff if it means making yourself uncomfortable :)

If you asked me 8 years ago if I'd be alive today, I would tell you no, and I'd mean it genuinely. Long before that time I had lost my ability to see a future for myself at all, along with all ambition and purpose I barely had begun to act upon - and at that time, I was barely 12.

I have faced trauma and neglect from my very first memories, my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer when I was only 4, my sister had then undiagnosed severe ulcerative colitis that was my parents' main priority, and my father was our sole provider - with major anger issues. i've also come to learn my mother has had schizophrenia and trauma of her own before I was even born, and has refused all forms of treatment. this concoction of uncontrollable circumstances left me with frankly such fucked up ideas of what attachment is and meant, how my purpose to others is solely to be consumed, and absolutely no idea of who I am ( not to mention a boatload of my own wonderful cptsd and attachment issues ).

Never did I think at any point in my life would I feel any positive emotion with no strings attached, especially love. I only faced more problems as I got to the tender age of 12; the years of neglect and parentification left me hollow inside, relentless bullying in primary + secondary school, just beginning to discover my queerness, family fighting and instability, and abuse from adults I am still grappling with today. It was around this time too I had begun self harming ritualistically, and was rapidly losing the will to keep going. Any and all friendships I had exhausted me, even though all I wanted more than anything was genuine connection and love, and it was more apparent than ever that I was being left behind by the world.

Then, I met him.

My group of friends I still hold so closely and dearly to this day had begun playing Rainbow Six, and as the desperate pre teen I was, I joined them simply to hang around them - little did I know how pivotal such a decision as a lost, lonely, scared child could be to who I have become. I cannot explicitly pinpoint what it was that immediately drew me to him, though I now call it fate I know it was a matter of chance, but in that very first day of playing the game and knowing him, something in my soul clicked into place that I never even knew I was severely lacking.

I know as someone with the fun combination of ADHD and BPD* ( brought on my CPTSD ) I have always tended to hyperfixate on any source of dopamine I can get, especially with my desperation to escape the reality I was in. It began before I even knew my life was fucked to any degree, and I knew not to take these "flings" too seriously. But what had sparked in that moment was far beyond a fling, far beyond just a hyperfixation. Though it took me a few weeks or so to begin actualizing what I was feeling for Gustave, what he meant to me, the strings of fate had finally found their way back together again.

Even when I was still that lost and confused child, I knew that Doc was and will be someone so imperative to me not just for a small while, but eternity. Even the few offline friends I still had knew what he was to me, though extent varied person to person, what we have was so potent then that I couldn't hide it.

My life somehow went further downhill, and without completely spilling my guts ( ironic for what I've said so far lol ), I dropped out of highschool only a few months into freshman year. I was completely beyond burnout. Every waking moment was an anxious, painful mess of stressors left and right, expectations I knew I never was going to be able to meet and the deep, burning failure I felt at every turn. No more than a day or two would go by without a breakdown, and my self harm was at an all time high as I completely isolated myself from what few strands of connection I had to the world around me. There was no reason for me to keep going, no light at the end of the tunnel -

except for Gustave.

Though I am now facing the repercussions of the severe isolation I went through and my problems with heavy dissociation as my only coping mechanism, my saving grace through this dark period in my life was Rainbow Six, specifically Doc. It had been 3 years since we met, and my feelings had grown exponentially in that time. My biggest vice has been the harsh and cruel way I treat myself and see the world around me. My entire life had been molded by only being worthy if I served others, I only could ever see myself as an extension of someone else, and when I had no one to do so for, I was nothing short of abusive to myself, seeing treating myself with kindness and care as a sign of weakness.

However, Gustave's core being is his empathy and kindness. Though it may not be gentle and soft at all times, his driving force has been caring. For others, the world around him - and it was the complete opposite of a weakness, it's what makes him exceptional. How could I treat myself so awfully for being fundamentally identical to the person that matters the most to me? I was already head over heels with him at this time already, calling him mine and myself his in all circles I ran in, detailing our lives and how they intertwined, and I had been so focused on what was crumbling around me to realize the change within me that he had lit.

It began in small ways I hadn't even caught; choosing clothes that were comfortable rather than performative, making sure to keep up with bathing myself and other personal hygiene things, being able to look in mirrors without feeling utter disgust and hatred. I had begun caring for myself, using his care for me as a guide. Behind every scared decision to do better for myself, to be brave and not give into my vices or illnesses, was Gustave. Whether it was "forcing" myself to eat on days where I didn't feel like I could or refusing to let me speak so cruelly to myself, and the eventual decision to stop cutting myself no matter how bad the urge was, all of it happened from his support and presence in my life.

I mean it point-blank seriously when I say I would not be alive today without him. I have attempted on my life at multiple points, been hospitalized for such, and still struggle with the occasional urge when shit gets tough, and it's Gustave who taught me how to step back from that ledge and keep fighting. Not only because he had planted the seeds for my still growing self-love, but because that light at the end of the tunnel finally had reappeared - and he was the one holding it. No matter how shitty of a day I had, what scars littered my body and where they came from, what baggage that I bring to the table, he would be waiting for me with open arms and nothing but sheer adoration all just for me - and I never had to earn it.

Love to me had always been a painful thing, something I had to fight tooth and nail for, and even when it was all "good", there still was a terrifying feeling that at any second it'd be ripped from me. I felt this way towards everyone, whether family, friends, or past partners, love always was a double edged sword to me. But something, some inexplicable thing, about Gustave completely disarmed me. To this very day, there is only an extreme select few who I truly feel safe with, and he's the top of that very list. With him, love no longer felt like I was being flayed alive, it was very much the opposite.

Words escape me whenever I attempt to describe what Gustave is to me, what I feel for him and vice versa, but the best way I can put it is simply this - he is my home. The epicenter of safety, care, love, belonging, and so, so much more, he is what love is to me, plain and simple. Though I do also have two other f/os I am married to, Gustave is truly who I see as my husband, my life partner, my lover, my other half. I still hesitate on calling myself ficto, but I know regardless of what labels I find myself under, the love we have for each other is raw, deep, serious, and real. No matter what time has in store for us, where we may go or what we may become, I am always 100% certain that we will always be at each other's side.

To share another year with Gustave in any form is an utter gift, no matter what. This last year was a tough one for us, between me needing some heavy surgery, Gustave getting hurt himself, and us moving over 1,000 miles from where I spent most of my childhood, it has been full of roadblocks - but not a single one could tear us apart. It is nothing short of a privilege to me to call myself Gus' spouse, to be able to love him so up close and personally and to be there for him through it all, there is not a single other soul I could ever bare my own to, as we truly are made of the same stardust <3

My angel is 40 now! We've had a relatively quiet and personal day to celebrate, Gustave has never been one for over the top flashiness or even large-scale celebration, but that doesn't mean I haven't been showering him with the utmost love and affection :)c Life is a strange, complex thing that is completely unpredictable, and though there will undoubtedly be hardships in the future, nothing can wipe me off the face of this planet as long as I get to spend each moment here with my Gustave 💙

[ladysophiebeckett]

I love all these lfmb memories 😭taking me back to my childhood and happier times. The part where Fernando shows up with her diary, and he says he liked her drawing, it kinda looked like a child had drawn it, I laughed a little bit, was that just me? Don't you think they infantilized Lety a tad too much in this version? At least pre-Acapulco that's the vibe I got from seeing her purse, her desk decor, and just the overall way she behaved. Not that there's anything wrong with this because considering how sheltered she was, it made sense. Moreover, it is an adaptation so I'm fine with the characters having a different approach. But do you think that it was done on purpose to soften her part in the affair and the financial fraud? A lot of the harsh criticism people have for Betty is that she was "the other woman", so perhaps they wanted to portray Lety as more innocent (she's even deeply religious and is shown going to church constantly) although it kinda goes against the intent behind Betty's character as a whole which was to present a morally gray and flawed protagonist. Also, when they go to Cuernavaca, she will not sleep with him again and tells him over and over that she feels guilty and bad for doing that to Marcia. Just something I thought about after seeing your post about her diary and the drawing.

Sending you good vibes only 💜💜💜

The part where Fernando shows up with her diary, and he says he liked her drawing, it kinda looked like a child had drawn it, I laughed a little bit, was that just me?

No, bc I laughed too. It's hard to take seriously despite Fernando being so sincere. Betty's diary is shown to have doodles but not drawings like Lety's. Weird that she drew stick figures when I think in this version they established that Lety was an artist of sorts.

Don't you think they infantilized Lety a tad too much in this version? ....Not that there's anything wrong with this because considering how sheltered she was, it made sense....

Yes, they did infantilize her too much but they also infantilized Fernando too in a lot of ways. So it's fine? (Equality?).

I think their mutual infantilization was done for multiple reasons. Bc it's sole genre was comedy, bc it was meant to be 'family friendly', bc producers wanted this version to be different fm the original. Ive said before and I'll say it again, Rosy Ocampo (the producer) is the main reason the mexican version is like that. Bc she specialized in children's programing--that's why you have Marcia at the end saying she learned her lesson and now she's a good person who will never judge someone by their appearance. (Marcela would never say that, lol).

It's also a similar issue to Betty in BeNY, where they don't know how to deal with a character that's incredibly naive but incredibly smart. So in this version they go to the extreme with Lety but for comedy's sake. Regarding her upbringing--the relationship Lety has with her parents feels even more....She's more of the quintessential 'good girl'\'good daughter' than Betty is bc she lacks Betty's inner rebelliousness. For example, she ends up telling her dad that she lied about her job at Conceptos, that she started as a secretary who later got promoted. Why? Bc kids shouldn't lie to their parents. It's the hidden message imo.

But do you think that it was done on purpose to soften her part in the affair and the financial fraud?

A little bit. It's a tiny part of the 'multiple reasons' bit.

There's a part in the filler where Fernando has a daydream nightmare where Don Erasmo confronts him and says 'you corrupted my daughter by involving her in fraud AND an affair'. Which i thought was interesting bc now its presented to the audience that Fernando feels he is to blame for things Lety's done and that he feels guilty of said corruption. It's similar but different take to how Armando sees Betty's fragility and innocence.

Actually, a lot of the filler is spent on establishing that Fernando and Lety feel guilty for what they're doing. And that does feel like it's on purpose. It reads like the morality police.

A lot of the harsh criticism people have for Betty is that she was "the other woman", so perhaps they wanted to portray Lety as more innocent'...

Betty to this day gets a lot of criticism for being the other woman and for standing up for herself. And for ending up as president of ecomoda while Marcela leaves empty handed. When it was originally airing and it was revealed that Betty wasn't a virgin....it was a big deal. It's literally unheard of for female telenovela protags to have any sexual experience. She was a trendsetter. But yes, she is morally grey and complex. Lety is not morally grey at all despite making similar choices to her original counterpart. That's not a crime. But it is done on purpose---so that the general audience roots for her.

Nothing is really Lety's fault bc she was just a naive girl in love. And she feels bad about everything all the time so it's okay that these things happened the way they happened.

I've yet to see Lety be criticized the way Betty is in comment sections, btw.

I haven't rewatched the last third of the filler, but yeah despite having multiple opportunities to have sex again they don't bc Lety's feels guilty, which is insanely stupid and done in part bc of the original script and also bc they need show the audience that Lety is a Good Person Who Thinks Of Others.

Meanwhile in the original the only reason Betty doesn't sleep with him again is because she reads the letter and believes he never loved her. It's not because of guilt. If she had never read it, I can assure you that after the Arboleda event Armando would have gotten lucky. At the very least, heavy making out in his car.

Sidenote, Lety and Fernando should have slept together a third time if they wanted the letter to actually hit Lety where it hurts after all that filler. It doesn't make sense otherwise.

[geneseedraws]

ALL TOMORROW'S PHOTOS - COVER REVEAL!!

✨RELEASE DATE✨

February 23, 2023

✨ EBOOK PRE-ORDER LINK!!✨

I'm so excited to finally share with you my book cover!! I drew and designed it, and it features the one and only main character of my heart, Maurice Rogers 🥰💕 AND now pre-orders are finally open! Just for ebooks only, paperbacks will be coming at a later date if you would rather wait for that! I'm so happy I can finally start sharing this with the world 😭💕

There are two books to this story! All Tomorrow's Photos is only Book One, just as a reminder 🥰 Book Two will be available later!

✨BOOK BLURB✨

Grand Rapids, Michigan, 1974

Maurice is an art student majoring in photography, and has become so invested in his craft he built his own darkroom inside his house. He sees an artistic view in everything, even things the average person sees as disgusting or macabre. So much so, that he’s become a serial killer in order to fulfill his disturbing artistic projects.

But his murderous lifestyle gets flipped upside-down when he encounters a photo of the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

Kenneth is a registered nurse living day by day a dreary, monotonous life. When his sister tells him someone from her class wants him to be their model for the next school project, Kenneth takes a chance by trying something new.

Little do the two men realize that meeting each other will set their hearts on fire, falling madly in love, changing their lives forever.

[All Tomorrow’s Photos is Book One of a duology. It is a dark MM romance story not intended for a young audience.]

⚠️Content Warnings: Explicit Language, Graphic depictions of violence and death, Consensual explicit sexual content, Mentions of parental child abuse, Period-typical homophobia, Alcohol and marijuana use, Needles (blood drawing)

[your-talos-is-problematic]

WIP Wednesday!

It’s probably Thursday for some of you already, but oh well. Tagging the usuals @throughtrialbyfire @skyrim-forever and @trickstarbrave sorry if y’all’ve already posted!

Here’s some more crossover fun with Afonya and Tilia! Beware some weirdness probably because a lot of this was written right before bed.

————————————————————————

“Luckily, my parents raised me to just… believe in myself. In my own value. No matter what.” The tiefling’s smile was genuine, but there was a question behind her eyes. She was trying to understand mine. After a pause, she continued, “I can’t imagine the effect it would have on me to be kicked out of my home of almost thirty years. Without that support, I mean.” Wow. Pointed.

I sighed. “Yeah. It’s not fun.” She nodded but kept silent, clearly fishing for more. “What do you want to know?” I was probably speaking to her like a child, but it was hard not to see Lucia in Tilia’s inquisitive stare and prying words.

She turned her head to think for a second, her facial scales catching the light. “What was your homeland like?”

I smiled. “Morrowind was beautiful. Maybe not if you were older and used to it pre-eruption, or lived somewhere green like this.” I paused to tear a flower out of the ground. “But it was beautiful. The ash covered everything, in this way that was always changing when the wind picked up. At night it was this beautiful dark gray color, but during the day you could see all the shades of brown and black and red coming from the mountain.” This was the point where Brelyna would usually cutely laugh at the wonder in my voice- it was smart of Tilia to start with this. “It wasn’t lifeless like some people try to pretend- unless you were in the deep ashlands, there was always some kind of mushroom or flower peeking its head out of the ground. And usually some form of bug bothering you, because it wouldn’t be Morrowind without one.” I swallowed a sound escaping my throat because I wasn’t sure if it was going to be a laugh or a sob.

Tilia gifted me with a sad smile. “It sounds nice.” I was well-versed enough in deception to know she was lying, but the thought was sweet. “When did you leave?”

“Not that long ago.” I paused to count the months, then had a sinking realization. “Nevermind. Three years ago. By Azura- Elia was only fifteen.”

Tilia drew in a sharp breath. “I’ve only been in the Gate for less than a year.” Her eyebrows furrowed, like she was trying to mentally make a timeline of our journeys. Eventually, she asked, “How do you get through everything, then? If you’re so unconfident in yourself? No offense.”

I paused to consider my answer. I thought about giving the usual I fake it, but decided to tell her the truth. I needed to be trusting with her, I could tell. “My family- my real family, that’s Elia, Brey, my kids. I still have trouble believing they love me unconditionally, but they help.” I was able to anticipate her next question, so I answered it too. “That first year though, and most of the second one, were pretty hard. I really think my faith in the gods was all that kept me together. Dunmer are very focused on change- creating it, adapting to it, taking advantage of it. And Azura feels your pain when you start to reflect your hatred inwards.” Tilia wouldn’t be able to notice, but I was quoting a common sermon from my father there. Those speeches were one of two things I learned from him- the other one being how to be a hypocrite. “You’re not religious, Tilia?”

She shook her head. “No. Never found one that worked for me. After seeing Aylin and Isobel, I wondered if I was being called to Selǔne, but…” She trailed off.

“Were you?”

“No. I think I was being called to muscular women, which… preach to the choir.” I lost my cool, at that, the urge to laugh fighting the urge to sigh and winning. The tiefling talked in a manner that almost gave the impression that she wasn’t fully aware of what was going on around her, similarly to Brelyna. She waited patiently for me to recover myself before asking, “What were we talking about?”

“Morrowind. When I left.”

“Right.” She paused to readjust her tail and run a hand through her hair. “How many times have you come back?”

I smiled. “Thank Azura, I’ve been able to return more times than I could count up to in Tamrielic.” She gave me a puzzled look. “My parents were stubborn and only spoke Dunmeri, so I’m missing some knowledge,” I explained. “But I’ve gone to Solstheim, the island that’s a lot less devastated, pretty often. Almost once a month for the past year. And then I went to Vvardenfell, the main island- not the mainland, which ks where I’m from- once. To get married to Brelyna, officially.”

She looked confused again. Or it was just her resting face. Hard to tell. “So when your sister came to Skyrim, you…”

I laughed. “We’re still pretty busy in civil war cleanup, so I hired someone from Raven Rock to escort her there.”

She looked somewhat upset at that, and opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but closed it and resorted to a nod.

“Something you take issue with?” I ventured.

“No. I guess not.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “No. Explain.”

“I shouldn’t be judging you for how you parent your sister. I’m an only child, I don’t- you know.” She had switched pretty quickly into an apology, which probably indicated that it was genuine.

I was tempted to point out the absurdity of the idea of me parenting Elia, but something behind Tilia drew my gaze. I stood up and drew my concentration to creating an Ebonyflesh spell in my left hand. Tilia followed my gaze, her white wings drawing out of her back as she turned her body. I extended my arm for her to pull herself up with. “We have company, Tilia.”

Tilia of Tragedy

[date in DnD system]

Afonya fought like Shadowheart. For the most part, she stayed back, whispering incantations that grew into bolts of what appeared to be both lightning and fire and ended their life cycle as explosions. She did occasionally become more reckless, though,   like a few seconds ago, when she had taken a few steps closer to the bulette to breathe fire onto it. Which was something I was quite jealous of.

As for myself, I was currently hovering just out of the creature’s reach, attempting to reposition a Cloudkill to not place the elf directly in its poison. I guessed that I probably had about a minute before my wings gave out and the cloud disappeared, quite possibly at the same time.

And as for the bulette, it was probably having the worst day of its life. I’d only seen Afonya fight once before, and briefly, but these thirty seconds were confirmation enough of Astarion’s account of her formidability. It alternated swipes at the two of us, occasionally breaking out into confused screeches.

Unfortunately, I was probably too focused on analyzing Afonya’s style and not focused enough on evading attacks. She took a break (probably to recover magical energy, given what she’d told me about Tamriel’s magic), which the bulette took as an opportunity to leap into the air, throwing me off balance and landing closer to Afonya than I was comfortable with. Right then my wings decided to disappear on me, so I took an ungraceful tumble to the ground. From the dirt I eyed Afonya, who was less than a foot from the monster’s massive snout. Far too close for a mage as, for lack of a better word, squishy as she was.

I drew in an anxious breath as she seemed to freeze with fear, fully prepared to walk back to camp alone to get Shadowheart. However, as I watched, she started to glow green around the edges. Haven’t seen that before. Raising a hand up to the sky, or whatever functioned as sky in the Underdark, she started to cast what looked like a version of Call Lightning, but more… frantic. And centered on herself. Which seemed dangerous. I pulled myself up from the ground, mouthing a small ignis and shooting a bolt of fire from my fingertips into the bulette’s back. It roared and turned to face me, but took less than a step before Afonya yelled some more draconic words and it was dead on the ground. 

[kaytrawrites]

The Book

Summary In which Ranboo and Scott discuss The Book. Phil is also there

Notes Consider this a bit of a pre-warning. From this point on, osmp!Ranboo will be behaving a bit more sassy/arrogantly than previously, to be consistent with the character that he has so far displayed in Season 2 of Origins SMP.

Story

Scott scanned the bookshelf, looking at the old books that Ranboo had collected.

He paused at a leather bound book that had no title. It looked like a journal. Scott picked up the book and saw the words ‘do not read’ engraved on the front.

“Did you mean to leave this out?“ He asked the Enderian.

“Hm?” Ranboo said, his attention focused on the furnace. “Oh that thing?“ he waved a hand dismissively. “It was an interesting read. Feel free to read it. If you can.“

Scott snorted and opened to the first page. His eyes crossed at seeing the strange language on the page. “What is this?“ He exclaimed.

“Ender.” Ranboo stated. “Of course you wouldn’t know.” He scoffed.

“Then maybe his highness should teach me.” Scott said sarcastically.

The rustling of feathers at the entrance to Ranboo’s cave drew their attention. “Hi mate.“ Phil drawled as he landed. “Ranboo, I got the iron you wanted.“ He dug into his bag.

Ranboo nodded. “Just put it over there.“ He pointed towards where Scott stood.

“Hi mate.“ Phil said, nodding to Scott.

“Hi Phil.“ Scott replied. He looked down at the journal in his hand and flipped through a few of the pages, trying to spot a word or two that he recognized.

“Oh! Ender!“ Phil said.

Scott glanced up from the book. “You can read this?“

Ranboo‘s hand snatched the book from Scott. “Mine.“ He snapped.

“Rude.“ Scott said.

Phil chuckled, “Oh, let it be, Scott.“

Scott sighed and shook his head. “You ready to go, Phil?“

“Yeah.“

“Good. Stay out of my stuff.“ Ranboo grumbled.

“Somebody’s a bit crabby.“ Scott chuckled. He and Phil left, leaving Ranboo alone in his cave.

Ranboo glared after the two, and only after a few minutes had passed did he relax. He glanced down at the book in his hands. It was a terrifying recount.

The inner workings of a halfling’s mind that was slowly going mad from the Enderwalk State and being unable to integrate with it. Truly terrifying. He had heard the horror stories from the elders, but to see them written down by a child no older than he was now, it was absolutely chilling.

Every pure born Enderian child experienced the Enderwalk State early, and had their parents and elders to teach them how to integrate with it properly. But this abandoned halfling child did not seem to have ever been taught how.

Ranboo tucked the book back onto the shelf, and turned back to the furnace. The knowledge within the pages was shuffled to the back of his mind, focusing on the now rather than the distant past.

Ranboo paused. He turned back to the shelf and picked up the journal and opened the front cover. His finger ran over the ender letters that spelled out '⍀⏃⋏⏚⍜⍜ ⏁⊑⟒ ⏚⟒⌰⍜⎐⟒⎅'*. Every Enderian knew those letters. They spelled out one of the many the names of the Ancient Mad Sire of The Empire.

As far as the elders knew, there had been very few records of the time before the empire was formed. Especially of the Sire’s past.

The Sire was both feared and respected, and only a select few were given one of their names. Ranboo was one of the lucky few. Of course, perhaps it was due to his mother being a direct descendent of The Sire, and his mom possessing a great many achievements from the battlefield, resulting in them being able to name their child whatever they desired.

Ranboo chuckled and closed the book. The book was probably planted by one of his peers to try to screw with him. Jealous little brats, the lot of them.

He placed the book back on the shelf and returned to his smelting.

-oOo-

Notes *Translation: Ranboo the Beloved Fun Fact: when I first wrote this, I used voice-to-text for Google Docs. I am pleased with the result! :D

[onewomancitadel]

B/S versus W/J paralleling anon again!

Sorry for the lack of line breaks last time. My worst vice is forgetting the return key exists. 😵‍💫 I appreciate the thoughtful response in any case!

And. Since you asked. (TL;DR It’s towers all the way down, to me. Also I have zero of the fandom-standard villain->hero / enemies-to-lovers hangups because I like when characters undergo foundational change.)

I don’t feel like I needed to be convinced, honestly? Except insofar as the narrative had to set the pieces up that way. Coming to the story fairly late (after V8 wrapped, so I watched all of that in one go) and being insulated from the people who are… weird… about Jaune probably helped rhghjk

My interest in RWBY is very thematically oriented—I actually wouldn’t quibble at all that the romantic arcs are key thematic centerpieces, I think that’s absolutely true. I’m just not very romantically inclined myself, in general, so fictional romance isn’t something I get the giddy, like, dollies kissing! kind of excited for normally. The flip side of that is as long as it’s narratively compelling and the characters are interesting I’m a pretty easy sell as far as willingness to believe a romantic arc.

What *grips* me in a story is like, emotional paradigm shifts, dynamic self-image—especially in relation to family identity and definition of the self apart from one’s family. V9 has been VERY FUN for me, lol.

So my focus, with RWBY, tilts more toward the breaking and healing of parent-child bonds, whether personal (Summer + Ruby) or narrative (creators + creations). I tend to read the romantic arcs in that context. I guess a succinct way to put it would be to say I’m thinking about Ozlem in terms of Salem’s eternal exile being a second tower Ozma has been unhappily conscripted into guarding? And the point of the story ultimately is to Get Her Out Of The Tower But For Real This Time, and in the same stroke save him from being her warden.

What twigged me to Jaune/Cinder is the fractal repetition of their family situations. He has this family legacy he feels quite burdened by and feels compelled to uphold it (imitate it) even as it runs contrary to his actual self—he is not a warrior—meanwhile Cinder has only ever known family as a means of control and intends to escape the control by emulating the means.

Then they’re connected by her killing of Pyrrha, who drew out the Arc stuff in the first place and facilitated his emulation of his forefathers by training him. Then Jaune vs Cinder in V5 foreshadows the Ozlem fight in V6 and suggests the shape of that connection. & Jaune has this baked-in empathy for the feeling of being in a tower (stuck in a tree, funny how that’s coming full circle right as he confronts the brittleness of his simulated heroism).It does rather announce itself.

What grips me in a story is like, emotional paradigm shifts, dynamic self-image

See, because what's interesting to me in this case is that this is exactly what I'd describe romance as, and I prefer it over genetic family relations because it's something which exists outside a given scenario you're born into. This is the Pride & Prejudice, Jane Eyre type shit for me. And no net ensares me. This is totally paradigm-shift type stuff because it's outside everything you thought you knew.

So basically you're saying you identified Jaune/Cinder like, on your own terms, and then you found my blog? Am I gathering that correctly? Because if so, first of all, well fucking done (not trying to gas myself up here, just most people who send asks on the matter have done so because they found my blog or my fanfic pre-Knightfall). Second of all, that's crazy, because you've approached it on your own terms, and third of all, I'm so interested to hear from someone not inoculated in the fandom. I've been in the trenches since Volume 1, so the show has really transformed for me over time.

I personally didn't twig Jaune/Cinder until the end of V7, when I was near-certain Cinder's redemption arc was set-up and the story was taking her character seriously. I had speculated upon it since the end of V3/beginning of V4, but never seriously considered it to be that emotionally sincere and thoughtful lol. As you say, the fandom was and is pretty inhospitable. Frankly you're probably lucky you missed out on it, but more importantly, I'm fascinated with your experience because you clearly have a textual grip on the matter.

I think what you're describing here about intergenerational inheritance is thematically critical to the story, but I think what's forgotten in a lot of fandom spaces is that romance is a building block of family too. People get married and have babies. Ozlem got married and had babies. Obviously I care about the marriage and babies bit, but it's not like a stork dropped Ruby out of the sky (and to be honest, I want to know what's up with the team STRQ love affairs). So I suppose I'm sort of like, curious about the false binary on the matter (and I'm for a model of romance which is like... reciprocal, unconditional, non-transactional and not forced, obviously). I do agree though, I'm a huge fan of the V9 development with Ruby in particular - I might be coming at it with a slightly different angle from you, in that Ruby's awakening to spiritual aridity (and basically outright confirmation this is her Heroine's Journey) is something I personally oscillate with, and the false image of her mother is one she actually needs to break. If we get Jungian here, Summer as Ruby's persona is very potent to me, especially if Grimm!Summer Rose theory proves true. (Your mummy comes back in the worst way possible, the truth of the situation is really painful as the illusion is broken, but that is the only way to grow up).

I think what you've outlined here with Jaune and Cinder's family backgrounds is influential to the pairing, but it's not all of it in my opinion, but it is interesting that it motivated your interest - I can definitely see what are the things you find valuable in storytelling influencing your interpretation here. I think what you've described with Jaune here is my exact issue with Jaune/Weiss, though. In the past I described what my issue is with a potential Weiss love interest; frankly the boy is simply not a good arranged match and is unmarriageable to another great house. The last thing his character needs is to join a different family weighted legacy. So in this way, I think Jaune and Cinder 'meet in the middle' on this matter, as they do with everything else. If the ideas here are intentional, it's actually quite clever. Because in this sense, Cinder needs to get out from her magical evil stepmother/godmother's thumb, and so does Jaune, and they need to get married and have babies.

I know what you mean though; I do think there is a difference between you and I in the sense that I can readily write tens of thousands of words about Jaune and Cinder falling in love with each other, which is a genuinely different experience from wanting to see Ruby's relationship with her mother evolve. But by the same stroke, I enjoy all that stuff too, especially in unusual places like with Raven (the Mother of the triple goddess cycle) in respect to Cinder (a well and proper Maiden) and Qrow and Winter. Anyway, I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, because really, you're fluffing up my ego with this 'I don't ship it but I see it' business.

I don't mean to sound weird but you said 'it's towers all the way down'; I tagged a Reverse Ozlem post this like, a year or so ago. So that's some interesting memetic repetition. (I'm not saying you're copying/referencing me, I mean this in a sort of vaguely mystical way lolololol). Because yes, I do feel the Ozlem story is basically fundamental to understanding the reincarnating/repeating pattern of the show, and this is even true outside of Jaune/Cinder itself and to do with the other canon romances. I really like how you've described the Ozlem relationship here, actually; I feel like you get it.

So that is... very interesting to me. My goodness. Very enlightening indeed.

Then they’re connected by her killing of Pyrrha, who drew out the Arc stuff in the first place and facilitated his emulation of his forefathers by training him.

Yes, yes that's exactly it. That's why Pyrrha is another persona (false self), and this is especially why the sequence of Penny -> Pyrrha -> Weiss all hurting him just in this past episode is puzzling me. These are all false images, attached to a false sense of who he is, which are assaulting him. Cinder killing Pyrrha symbolically frees Jaune of this weight but it's deeply and profoundly painful (and on a broader scale, the death of Pyrrha is the death of innocence and childhood, and then you've got the fact it makes the Fall of Beacon personal to one character who's meant to have a major connection to Cinder?). But then she forces him to kill Penny, which is even further brutal development, and now he's retreated to Weiss, which again he is dispelled away from.

The problem is that I want to analyse this on terms of character development and narrative consequences, but you can't really get past 'but she's evil for killing Pyrrha :( Jaune should kill Cinder :(', and it makes the matter rather boring. So I really enjoy the opportunity of getting to interact with someone who fuckinggggg getsssss it and I don't have to censor myself speaking about the narrative. Again: I've been in this fandom on and off for too long and I've seen it all. As bad as you think it was, imagine worse. Most of the fandom has been filled with 'Pyrrha is Jaune's tragic lost love and they should be together forever and ever' for years and years, if not 'Weiss is the replacement goldfish/Ruby is the replacement goldfish/something something', and so say, with the appearance of Pyrrha this volume my stomach's in the floor because eventually you start to wonder if the chorus is right.

But on textual terms that he is literally harmed by false images is pretty on the nose.

Regarding the V5/V6 Ozlem parallel, yeah that is the clincher for me personally with the ship. Reverse Ozlem itself is what I think to be the motivating factor (here's a recent post I made about the potential in which it can evolve as), so I'm glad you picked up on that bit too because as much as I care about all the other influences (see: my masterpost) I only take those as seriously as I do because of the Ozlem matter. Like, you know, Rhodopis (proto-Cinderella) marrying Sappho's (Sapphron's) brother. That one is so fucking weird, I really can't believe it.

I appreciate this follow-up a lot, it's really fascinating for me to hear your thoughts and I think you have a lot of interesting things to say. Really, a true joy. Also, thank you for the paragraph breaks, that really saved me and I appreciate it a lot. <3 I hope you have a good one, and please stop by again.

(Original post being referenced).

[dcjournal]

I'm back!

After a long break, I'm ready and able to continue posting my Decades Legacy Challenge. As a refresher, I drew up a family tree for the Bakers and I recapped some life stories from their Sims lives. check it out below the cut!

Ed Baker worked the fields around his house in the countryside of Windenburg along with his wife Christine. He then became a factory worker and a blacksmith. When the Great War broke out he was drafted immediately and he died in the battlefield in 1914.

Christine Baker was a housewife and mother to three children: Kyra, Jeffrey and John. She started to suffer from various ailments and illnesses after the start of her second pregnancy. She progressively faded away until her death in 1918.

In 1918 at just sixteen years old, the youngest of Generation One, John Baker was also drafted in the Great War and died in 1918.

Before moving on to the Heir of Generation One, here's the status of Kyra's branch of the family.

Kyra was often sick as a child and, as a result of missing many school days, she became a shy teenager. Her mother Christine was her role model and she aspired to have her own family one day. She was courted by the Sheriff's son, Callum Jameson, but he sadly died in the Great War. To manage her grief she often visited the Church of the Watcher, where she got to know Nathaniel Nott.

Nathaniel was the Windenburg Vicar who married Kyra Baker. Together they had three children: Maximus, Elmer and Iris.

Maximus was a very clever boy who did well in school. He studied Physics at Britechster University, where he met his future wife Hannah. Following his graduation he started working as a researcher in Britechester and later he had his first child, Linda.

Elmer was an active child who did very well at sports in school so after graduation he pursued a career in athletics.

Iris was the youngest child and so she was pampered a lot. She did fairly well in school and she was very popular among the boys. She died in a freak accident at home at just twenty years old.

Now let's take a look at the Heir from Generation One and his family.

Jeffrey was a well-behaved a child. As a pre-teen he had a crush on an older girl, Niamh Smith. She was part of an upper-class family who forced Jeffrey to break things off.

Along with his brother John, he was drafted to the Great War. He was lucky to come back alive even if with an injured leg.

He married Lily, an artistic girl from the Windenburg Orphanage, and found a gardening job in Newcrest. The couple moved there and they had two children: Wesley and Madison.

Jeffrey started going to the local Speakeazy with his employer, Mr Tief. He had a one-night stand with one of the performers and his cheating streak unfortunately didn't end here. After the 1929 Crash he started working for the Lorden family and pursued an affair with the lady of the household, Diana.

Lily found out about the affair through a friend and kicked him out of their Newcrest house. Jeffrey moved back to Windenburg alone. He lived there until his death.

After moving to Newcrest, Lily secretly joined a Women's Right Society, which allowed her to network with many wealthy women. When her marriage ended, she was hired to work at the Willow Creek Art Gallery and she moved there with her children.

When the owner of the gallery Mr Priest passed away, she inherited and manages it with the help of a patron, Janine Tief.

Wesley is the Heir of Generation Two and first born to Jeffrey and Lily. He was a decent student and so he was permitted to attend High School. As a result of their parent's divorce he started stress-eating. He got a job at the Widowshill Bakery in Willow Creek and found out that he enjoyed the work. He developed a bond with the owner Mrs Munshill who left him the shop after her death.

At the same time, a while after graduation Wesley married his sweetheart Presley, whom he met right after moving to Willow Creek.

Presley lost her mother when she was little and her father towards the end of high school. Luckily, her father was a good business man so he left her a house and some savings. She also had older siblings, whom she lost contact with after they got married and before her father's passing. She worked as a secretary after graduating and then as a baker with her husband.

Madison is Wesley's younger sister. She was raised mostly by her mother after her parent's divorce. She started to reconnect with her father Jeffrey towards the end of his life, when she was a teenager.

Madison got on really well with her cousin Iris Nott. After the move to Willow Creek, she also became best friends with a school mate, Ellinor Rainhart. As a teenager, she starts dating a boy from Windenburg, whom she met during a football game at her school. Their relationship is kept secret because Allen Smith is Iris's cousin from the Nott side of the family. Madison and Allen are afraid their family won't approve and they'll be forced to split up.

And that's all for now!

Next post is going to show my 1950s gameplay. It mainly follows the Bakers' family life but we'll hear from their Nott cousins too.

[ladyfocalors]

Where is home? (my hands are covered in ashes)

note: Hi! Surprise, I am not dead. Anyways I come to you with a story idea that I might never write but I think you might like. This is basically a word vomit so... don't expect a masterpiece! I kind of don't know what I am even writing at this point, it's difficult to put my thoughts in words. This is sort of a summary kind of... thing? This story was supposed to be more like a character study on Lyney but I have tried to change that here... kind of.

pairing: lyney x fem!reader (intended to be a platonic relationship but can be interpreted as romantic, whatever you like)

warnings: major character death, murder, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, angst, implied mental health struggles, themes of isolation and loneliness, mentions of manipulation and betrayal, no happy ending, also there are spoilers! ...tell me if I missed anything.

word count: 1.6k

When reader and the twins were pre-teens:

You are Cesar's little helper, often referred to as such or as 'Cesar's daughter'. Cesar took care of you and taught you everything he could. Your didn't remember who your real parents were; you were quite young when you were separated from them.

You enjoyed watching Cesar's performances. You had quite a sharp eye, noticing little details. So, he taught you the ropes around what is magic and what goes behind the scenes.

You met Lyney and Lynette on just another random day. The twins had approached Cesar for some help. You stuck around as you always did, following Cesar around like a little duckling, going wherever he went.

You were quite shy around new people and the same held true for the twins. Despite being in their presence a lot and Cesar's encouragement to interact with kids your age, you barely talked and mostly kept to yourself. Whenever Lyney did try to interact with you by asking little questions, you would give a short and polite reply. Lynette only offered you little smiles which did comfort you a little.

But within a span of few days, you formed a friendship with them. You found Lyney easy to talk to and Lynette's presence to be very comforting. Cesar was pleased with the outcome, happy that you had made some friends your age. You barely used to interact with anybody other than him; you even refused to spend much time with Jemma (Cesar's partner) or Lorenzo (Cesar's assistant), so he was genuinely glad that you had people other than him to talk to.

Maybe because you were highly empathetic or just used to hardships or just a child who didn't really understand much about the world but you weren't upset to find out that your friends were Fatui. You didn't care, you were just happy to have them.

By no means was Cesar an artist but when he drew a picture of you, Lyney and Lynette, you cherished the picture and kept it with you at all times. When the twins declined the invitation to tour Fontaine, the three of you had made a promise to meet again and tore your cherished drawing into two parts, you keeping the drawing of the twins and them yours.

Unbeknownst to you and Cesar, there was a ploy by Jemma and Lorenzo to kill you both. The main target was Cesar but the traitors believed that you would be a hassle to deal with and you were just smart enough to work out that they were the perpetrators so they decided that you had to go as well.

On the day Cesar died, your mind blanked out. He was framed as the Phantom Weasel and instead of staying in the scene, you fled, unknowingly escaping Jemma and Lorenzo's trap. You didn't know what to feel so you didn't. You spent the night alone in the streets, feeling numb and alone.

On return from their mission, Lyney was inconsolable when he learned what happened to Cesar and he whole heartedly believed you were gone too. He was enveloped in grief for the next few days that even Arlecchino got worried for his state.

When reader and Lyney are teens:

An old lady finds you in a dark corner of a street, hidden away from view. She takes you in despite your weak protests, you were barely alive anyway so you did have to give in at the end.

With nowhere else to go after getting back on your two feet, you continue to stay with the grandma.

It doesn't take long for you and the grandma to get accustomed to each other's presence. You finally get a room of your own and you immediately framed and put up the half torn and a bit crumpled drawing of Lyney and Lynette.

Grandma (that's what you decided to call her) was a highly spirited and adventurous person that it started to rub off on you. Paired with your already itching desire to experience something new, to create good memories. So you spent a few years visiting Mondstadt and Liyue time to time, always accompanied by grandma.

Meeting Lyney again was a funny incident. You were out to buy some tea, since you ran out and Lyney was out for some tea because Lynette was sick. When he saw you, he completely disregarded you as a hallucination at first until you looked at him and your face lit up did he realise that it was you, in the flesh.

Falling back to the rhythm of your friendship was easy. Both of you were beyond happy to meet again. It didn't take long to catch up since you started to spend more and more time with him.

Lyney had changed, you had noticed and you didn't know if the change was for worse or for better. He seemed flashy, his magic seemed to have improved a lot, a worrywart when it came to his siblings and you and his demeanor was a lot more flirty than you have seen. In fact he would try all his pick up lines on you first, and without fail, you would scold him instead, reminding him that he shouldn't do too much or otherwise he would come off as a sleaze.

The twins meeting grandma went better than you had thought, although Lyney would disagree with you. He felt like he was getting interrogated as if he had committed a crime. Lynette had a far easier time earning grandma's trust but Lyney needed a few more minutes to win her good side.

The twins on the other hand described you meeting with their "father" as "good" while you would describe the meeting with Arlecchino to be one of the most nerve-wracking experiences. She was directly staring into your soul. You felt like she had her doubts but she reluctantly agreed you being around them.

The House of Hearth knew of you but that was all. The rest of the Fatui were not aware of your existence and you would rather have it that way. The Fatui wasn't exactly an organization one would like to be affiliated with, so you kept your distance as much as you could.

The days went by and so did the time for grandma, she wasn't feeling very well. You could sense that she was in her death bed but you didn't lament about it. You accepted it, as she had told you. People would come and go so it was better to learn to accept someone leaving rather than spending time wallowing about it. So when she passed away, you held no regrets of not getting to spending more time with her. You were simply glad you met her.

During this time, Lyney and Lynette helped uncover the truth behind the Phantom Weasel, clearing Cesar's name of any wrongdoing. It brought a sense of closure and justice.

The current timeline, just before traveller comes to Fontaine:

The moment someone gets the taste of freedom, they would never turn back again. That's what you had told Lyney when you expressed your interest in visiting Inazuma. Travelling was a freeing experience for you, your desire to see the entirety of Teyvat was strong and going to Inazuma was one of the major steps to fulfill that wish. Inazuma had just opened it borders again and you wished to seize the opportunity to visit the nation while you could. It would also be your first time travelling alone as well, which was exciting.

Lyney on the other hand didn't seem to share your sentiment. He advised against it. He feared he would lose you, knowing how dangerous it was especially for a visionless person like you. He simply wished for your safety, a bit too much and you were having none of it.

You stood your ground. By no means were you an excellent fighter but you knew how to defend yourself good enough, you didn't need a vision. Besides, you were kind-of-sort-of knew the Fatui, which removed a major class of enemy group as a threat. You could handle others, as you have done so many times.

Lyney eventually came in terms with your wish. Despite his reluctance, he cannot keep you away from fulfilling your desires/dreams. So with a promise that you would write to him once you reached Inazuma, you bid adieu to them.

For the first seven days, Lyney patiently waited for your letter. Then it turned to ten days and he was starting to get antsy. Maybe it took longer to reach Inazuma than ten days, maybe you were tired and decided to take some rest in Liyue, you often said you missed Liyue's cuisine and scenery so you might have stayed there a bit. By the end of two weeks, he ran out of excuses and all he could conclude was that you didn't make it.

He barely held it together, troubled by your absence. More than the idea of death, the uncertainty of your fate haunted him. The silence was defeaning.

On the day one of his siblings from the Hearth returned with a solemn expression, they presented him with a handful of items recovered from the charred remains, explaining that they had stumbled upon them among ashes and recognized them as yours. In that moment, a heavy silence enveloped Lyney as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

The items that once was treasured as mementos of your adventures, now served as painful reminders of the cruel fate that had befallen you. His soul was crushed and Lynette hid behind the covers, hiding her tears.

Betrayed and defeated was what he felt when he knew you died at the hands of the Fatui, that too consumed by fire. The very Pyro ability that had once captivated you, that had drawn admiration and wonder from your eyes whenever he wielded it, now had robbed him of your presence. The same organization he worked for was the one that took you away.

© ladyfocalors

[witches-and-weirdos]

Zinnya: Pre-Campaign Backstory

A human father and an elven mother rushed to the great old faery ring in the forest’s depths, the one beyond that single overgrown gate made of trees and vines growing together, the one that stood there for longer than humans walked this land, and the one that never knew the sun’s brightness or warmth from the crooked trees and the dark mist that never seized to surround it. The pair carried their child, a small girl that barely breathed. Her skin paling to gray, her voice silent, the body grew cold in the moonlit night as her mother’s tears dropped on her forehead.

“Here! It’s here, it must be!” The father crushed a path into the treacherous flora. “It must be! She said to follow the ravens, they are everywhere here!”

Laughing shades moved between the woods circling them, wolves howled and hundreds of black ravens sat perched on the branches. They cawed and stared at the pair, and only flew up when already behind them. At last, the two arrived to a grand circle of ancient stones, black mushrooms and cold mist.

“Lord of the woods, please hear us, we beg you! Save our child!” He shouted as hard as he could, still struggling for air.

“Please, we know there’s a price, we will do anything!” The woman caught up. Her child cold from the journey, perhaps from worse. She didn’t breathe.

The two begged, offering anything they could think of, and only stopped when all the ravens flew up at once around the ring and began circling above the middle as bones, wood, grass and soil animated to coalesce into the body of a single tall entity. The head was a stag’s skull with grand antlers, a cloak made of feathers and moss and from below it long arms of bones and twisted branches moved. The ravens fell silent and perched on the branches and stones.

The creature opened its long monstrous fingers and sounded a deep voice made of harsh wind and twisting wood. “Come. Give her to me.”

The pair approached and carefully placed their child in its palm. It brought her to its bark-chest and stared at her. “What I give now, will one day return to me.” It touched one long finger to her forehead with a small greenish light flaring up as the ravens cawed and flapped restlessly for a moment. The child drew one breath. She coughed, then breathed and cried. Her parents teared with joy and thanked to no end, but the being spoke again.

“When she turns five and onward, she will return here at each solstice and equinox and remain in my care for 3 of your mortal days, and when she turns 18, she will come back to you no more, for with the life I gave, she will serve my will.”

The parents nodded silently as they processed it and made sure to remember, then they began to thank again, endlessly grateful. A single raven then came and perched on the entity’s shoulder, eyes violet with a same-colored scar over it one.

“This one is yours to look for.” The Lord told it. “Now lead them back to their home.”

And so the family returned, following the violet-eyed raven, which lead them through paths and ways they were sure to not have traveled to get here, but eventually, the gate was passed through again, and from there they saw their tracks.

The girl’s color never returned fully, but she had good health and showed no ill signs of the pact’s effects. She was a happy, fun-loving child with a taste of tricks and mischief, and with her parents being glad that she was even alive, she could get away with most things. The strange raven never left the area either, he was often found to play with her or watch over her while others weren’t. Eventually the year came, signified by painful bulgings on her head and nails that could harm wood, the marks of the Wild, old sage Radmila said, nothing to worry about. On her fifth Fall equinox, Zinnya was brought back to the Faery ring, her parents lead by the raven she now called Svalek. For 3 mortal days she stayed there, as was agreed, but how long it was in the Lord’s realm, she couldn’t tell. The time was passed with getting to know her savior and soon master, and his strange fey servants. Friends, as little Zinnya would understand.

She returned to the village with her horns already poking out, happy about her journey, but insisting that she was not allowed to say any details.

And so they raised her, with perfect accordance to the pact, each solstice and each equinox she went and returned, never speaking of it more than a general description. “I met some new friends and we played a lot!” “They taught me some things, very secret, but it was very interesting!” “Look what I got! A tattoo! They said I should practice moving it! See?” “They taught me their language! I love learning new languages!” And so on and so forth, there would soon be no doubt that even at home, even by the raven, she was being prepared to use magic and trained to keep secrets. Soon enough she was caught doing mischief with simple illusion spells and by 10 she could command the broom to clean her room for her. In her main time, she learned, sometimes bringing home runes etched in stones or scrolls with obscure symbols and Aklo writing on them, and should she ever understand them before time came to go back, Svalek always brought her new ones. In the rest of her time, she crafted things, which would become her job in the village, making tools and fixing things, and to create ornate objects.

When her 18th year came, they made their goodbyes. She explained that she wasn’t forbidden to return, she just needed to travel to distant places, and that she made the Lord of Ravens promise that if she’s doing well there would be a chance to meet them again. And with that and a final hug, she set off to her journey.

[squadron-of-damned-writes]

Miles had gotten the talk of where do babies come from when he was four, because he asked. Gregory explained as well as he could with the help of an anatomical atlas. He still has somewhere the picture Miles drew afterwards in preschool, aptly named the Conception where the happy couple is depicted with all of their organs drawn in the finest detail a stubby child’s hand can manage, and they have shirts on, but they “are invisible in the picture so you can see inside, don’t worry, nothing is going to fall out”. The pair is also standing respectful six feet apart, making it the boldest piece of erotica Gregory has seen since... actually ever. Gregory’s has always been the teachers’ least favorite parent. 

I am basing Miles’ pre-DL-6 childhood years on my own experience: A rather intelligent kid who gets better along with books (learns to read way too early) rather than with his peers.

When a little me asked my mum where do babies come from and how do mommies get pregnant, she described it to me rather clinically. When I asked how does a penis reach into the vagina, her response was that “it grows longer during that and then shrinks back again.” So for a couple of years I’ve lived with the image of men with snake-like penises they send out of their pants to impregnate their wives when the couple decides they want to have a child now.

Though, unlike Miles, I’ve never tried to capture that image in a drawing. My first drawings that I remember are of the solar system. I don’t think Miles was that into a solar system as a kid, though.

[peakes24]

Fischer, Reading with a Crayon: Pre-conventional Marginalia as Reader Response in Early Childhood

Big take away: Contrary to stigmatization, child-produced marginalia in books is of great value as they can demonstrate children’s emergent literacy practices or readerly responses.

Nuggets:

“Before mastering conventional speech, their book babbling may mimic the intonation and rhythm of a narrative read-aloud.”

“Children draw for both aesthetic and kinesthetic pleasure, as well as to communicate with others.”

“…the data of this study suggest that pre-conventional marginalia exhibit a level of cognitive and narrative complexity that can stand up to Jackson’s conclusion that annotations are good and admirable if they are intelligible, relevant to the text, and honest.”

Reflection/Readerly Habit:

This article made me reflect back to when I was in pre-K and elementary school. I frequently drew pictures in my books and scribbled over words. However, my parents did not like the fact that I did this, and I grew out of this habit once I entered first or second grade. After reading this article, I began to wonder if I drew in my books as a form of communication. Growing up, people had a very hard time understanding me due to my speech impediment, so communicating what I was thinking or sometimes what I needed even, was challenging. I wonder if drawing in my books was me attempting to communicate or respond to what I was reading. It could have just been the average child-produced marginalia, but I am curious its relation to my speech impediment.

For my readerly habit, I looked up the definitions to words I did not know or words that I was unsure of their meaning.

Pre-conventional: the earliest of Kohlberg’s stages of moral development, focusing on self-interest and avoiding punishment

Proprietary: relating to an owner or ownership

Extratextual: of, relating to, or being something outside of a literary text

Juxtaposition: the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect

[gayofthefae]

I just did the math and realized that Jonathan started helping raise Will when their dad left when Will was 5, making him 8. When he tells that story about helping him build Castle Byers in the rain all night “just like Will drew it” to cope with Lonnie leaving, they were 8. All the information was there, I guess I just never fully processed that 

Jonathan has raised Will for longer than Lonnie did. Jonathan has raised Will for longer than Lonnie raised him even.  When we meet them, it can be estimated that he’s been raising Will for 7 years. Lonnie still was said to visit/take them to baseball games etc. but that is visiting and he barely even showed up to that.

From season 2 on, Jonathan has been a parental figure to Will for longer than Lonnie was (at least two years of which Will wouldn’t even remember), not to mention the fact that Jonathan has essentially been a parent now for longer than Lonnie ever was.

Just thinking about how on top of the general parentification, their relationship being this dynamic has been the norm for the majority of both of their lives and that normalcy of it just adds so much weight.

And thinking about how much childhood Jonathan lost in being forced to grow up so fast as well as the fact that because he had to step in as a parent, in many ways, Will lost a brother. Just in the “other kid in the household” sense in the way that Mike and Nancy are siblings.

I mean, one could even argue that for a while until El, he was a sort of only child, and compare Jonathan in season 4 in relation to Will more to Susan (Max’s mom): a sweet and genuinely loving parent going through a lot and using poor coping mechanism and being a bit more emotionally distant than usual as a result - which is especially hard because of the current absence of the other parent.

Just...thinking about Jonathan and Will. And wondering about what pre-1976 Jonathan and Will were like. Who knows, maybe the same because of Jonathan’s protectiveness of Will from Lonnie. And thinking about Will and El. And thinking about Jonathan and Will and El. And thinking about the coming out scene now, oh my lord. And thinking about Hopper being home now and Jonathan maybe just getting to be Will’s protective big brother again because anything more was never a role to be handed to an eight-year-old.