#i could add links to this but that sounds like too much effort for what's basically a shitpost

[lainiespicewrites]

The Atreides Era

Part 1

Buried in the sands

A/N: Hey everyone! obviously not my normal content! I've been working on updates on that as well! This is part of a writing Collab with my best friend @hey-its-roseaurum! We've both broken out of our comfort zone writing fics for each other's fave comfort characters. She will be posting about Sherlock so my Henry girlies definitely go check it out! I'll add the link once it's posted!

So I guess without too much warning here is my best effort at a Paul Atreides x OC fic

Summary: Paul Atreides and OC (Matar) and the other Freman are still fighting the Harkonnen in the spice fields. After almost losing his friend in battle Paul makes the decision it's time to go south. It's time to meet with the Emperor. His decisions will change the fate of his friends and the planet of Arakis. Paul knows this. He's seen it. But... at what cost?

Warnings: Description of battle, death, slight angst.

2k words

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It’s early that much is clear. The sun's intense heat has not yet started pouring over Arrakis, disturbing Matar’s peaceful sleep. What did disturb her was the amateur sand steps of the young man outside her tent. And the sound of his voice calling for her in a harsh whisper. Matar stirred with an agitated grumble, sitting up slowly and blinking her eyes to adjust to the soft light of dawn starting to creep in from the open flap of her tent. 

“What do you want, Paul Atredies?” She groaned. The footsteps outside her tent halted and were followed by a soft chuckle. Crouching down in front of the tent Paul popped his head in sending Matar a cocky grin. 

“Not Usul? Have I managed to offend you again already?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. Matar stares for a moment, watching his face and the loose wave of brown hair that’s fallen into his eyes. Interesting how they’re still so gray, his eyes, as long as he’d now been exposed to spice. Matar blinked the thought away, what did it matter? Paul Atriedies could have glowing red eyes and she’d pay no mind, he was a pest. A pest, who was her friend, one she’d grown fond of. But still a pest. 

“You’ve come to me, Paul Atriedes before the sun is fully awake. This better be important.” Matar answered him, falling back against her pillow. 

Paul was not discouraged by his friend's lack of energy or enthusiasm, crawling into the tent in the corner across from his friend still giving her the same dopey grin.

“How’d you know it was me?” He spoke softly now. His tone was now more gentle and letting Matar awaken properly before he poked at her further. 

“You walk like an elephant, I could hear you coming from miles away,” she answered him. 

“Hmm I suppose I do,” Paul agreed nodding. “Then we need to practice before we go into battle!” Paul's exclamation caused Matar to sit up. Now she was fully awake.

“Battle? What are you speaking of Usul?” The boy's smirk faded. His eyes are more serious now. 

“We got word more of Harkonnen moving in on the spice fields. They’re placing their harvester as we speak. We’ll need to move in on them quickly.”

Putting the moment of banter behind them Matar quickly composed herself. Pulling her hair back she tied her long dark hair into a tight knot. She swept her hand around her tent for a moment and found her head scarf to keep her safe from the day’s intense heat. Taking in a deep breath Matar’s eyes once again settle on the man sitting across from her. 

“Is Chani aware?” She asks. Her voice is smooth and calm. While she had not expected another fight. Or, ambush rather, against the Harkonnen. She was always ready. For those who control the spice control the universe. A mantra the Harkonnen were always chasing.  Neither Matar nor Chani, Matar’s closest friend, would submit to that fate. 

Paul’s eyes shift to the ground as he shakes his head.

“No, I figured it should come from you. She’s one of our most skilled fighters. Chani doesn’t trust me. It has to come from you, Matar.” a breath of silence falls over the two of them. For a moment. Matar thinks to be offended by this. Paul Atreides is only here to use her as a messenger. The thought is gone as quickly as it develops. There is no time for emotion. No time to dwell on the man who has shown up unannounced. 

“I will see her now. Go, gather the others. We’ll need to move before the sun is at its highest point. “ She said.  The man nods. But catches her wrist before she can leave the tent. 

“Matar, I- I’ve seen… something. You in battle and you…” He pauses. They lock eyes. The visions. One of the many reasons Stilgar and the other southerners believe the young Atreiedies is the Messiah. Matar, Chani, and a few of their kind believe it all to be a load of shit. 

However, the fear in his eyes at this moment cannot be ignored. “Please,” He pauses again emphasizing his words. “Be careful out there.” Matar doesn’t say anything. Holding his gaze she nods letting him know she understands whatever he’s seen has frightened him. He lets her go and the two of them leave the tent.  There’s a warm light over their camp. Many of the other Freman have started to gather in a common area. 

Paul and Matar walk in opposite directions. But before Paul is out of earshot Matar stops and calls for him. 

“Usul!” She calls. He turns back to her with a look of concern etched across his face. “Whatever you saw,” she pauses. “My fate is my own to make Paul Atreides,” 

Paul gives her another soft smile. He looks like he did when she first saw him this morning. Innocent, and childlike.  There’s a stirring feeling in her gut.  She has no time to address this. They have a planet to protect. 

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Chani is awake and preparing for the day when Matar finds her. 

“Bit early for you isn’t it?” Chani asks with a smirk. 

“Funny,” Matar recants quickly, “I got a visit from Lisan al Gaib this morning.” Better to get to the point quickly. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve started to buy into this Messiah facade?” Chani questions. Eyeing her friend with a curious expression. Matar scoffs

“Why do I sense you’re already feeling hostile this morning?” Matar says, “Of course, I don’t believe it, I believe what I can see Chani. And what I see is that Paul Atreides has helped us successfully fight against the Harkonnen attacking our spice fields. 

“There’s another harvester?” Chani asks although it’s clear she knows the answer already. 

“He doesn’t believe you you trust him. But I know that you will protect your family.” Matar says. 

“I don’t trust him. But I see what he’s done. And It can’t be ignored. Believe me, I have tried. “ She pauses with a smirk. “And as long as I’m fighting beside you, I’ll always show up for the fight.” 

“Don’t be soft,” Matar teases. Smacking her friend on the shoulder. 

“It’s you who’s gone soft Matar. Don’t get so close to him, his mother can not be trusted. She seeks more power than anyone should hold.” Chani warns

“We are not close, But I believe he could be a good ally, and that woman can burn for all I care. Now come, we’ve got to prepare for an ambush.” She smirks as she and her friend set out to join the other soldiers. 

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Silence.  Nothing but the sound of the wind stirring the sand. A maua’dib, a small desert mouse, could be heard skittering across the sand dune. Unsuspecting of the unrest that is soon to occur. Matar’s eyes scan over the top of the dune, zeroing in on the harvester only feet away from her and the others. Paul and Chani have, for the time being, come to a truce and have gone undetected underneath the foul piece of machinery. Matar and the others are waiting for their signal. This is when they will move in. 

A loud blast breaks the silence. A shot attacked the Harkonnen craft surveying the harvester and the security. The signal. The others jump to their feet. Stilgar and his men attack the security with daggers. Slicing into them and killing them before the intruders even see the Freman warriors coming. Matar takes a shot at the harvester aiming for one of its claw-like pillars. The blast hits but it quickly gains her attention. She makes quick steps and rolls out of the way as a Harkonnen security tries to land an attack. He misses. This was a fatal mistake for him. Granted he was always going to die. Another Freman soldier stabs the Harkonnen before he can advance any closer. Matar locks eyes with the person and they nod at each other before they continue their battle. She stands, once again aiming for the harvester. This time she aims right in the center. Fuck it. No more time for games. Time to blow this thing up. Taking one last look to be sure her friends will not become casualties she takes the shot. She doesn’t watch it land. Matar is pulled back by another Harkonnen. He has a dagger held to her ribcage. She barely hears the sound of the explosion over her heart pounding in her ears. At least she landed it. One last explosion before the bitter end. She twists to break the hold but the man has a tight grip on her neck. Fuck. 

He lifts the blade ready to plunge it into her chest. And then. He goes limp. His body falls to the sand. Matar sucks in a deep breath. Finally, she turns. Paul’s eyes are wide as they search her for injury. 

“Are you?” He begins. She holds up her hand to stop him. 

“Do not fuss over me, I am not dead,” she tells him. With one last thud. The final Harkonnen is dropped to the ground. Someone, Stilgar likely, calls for the rest of them to gather quickly and evacuate the area. The Freman army and their messiah head back to camp. However, halfway back Paul stops them. 

“Gather your things. This is the last time we fight the Harkonnen like this. Tomorrow, we go south.” He states. Chani and Matar exchange a look. 

“Paul Atreides we cannot…” Chani begins to protest

“I will not continue to watch them abuse this planet. I will not wait for the emperor to make his move. We are going south. And we will take on the emperor.” He states again. 

The rest of the Freman army cheers. Paul Atreides, once again is fulfilling their prophecy. But Matar. Feels like a dagger has been stuck in her side. He once told her, He wished nothing more to be equal to her. But he couldn’t mean that. Not when he was headed south to possess more power than any person should ever wield. 

The Freman army arrived back at camp. Some celebrated. Some dressed wounds from the day's battle. 

“He’s a good fighter, but I knew he could not be trusted,” Chani says absentmindedly. The girls are both watching Paul off in the distance while Stilgar celebrates their success.

“Do you have to be right about everything?” Matar questions. 

“No, just tends to pan out that way,” Her friend says before wandering off to her own tent. Matar sighs finding a seat and taking out her dagger sharpening it with a stone.  After a few moments, she feels a presence and then there is someone sitting beside her. 

“Matar,” Pauls voice speaks. 

“I don’t wish to speak to you Usul,” she says, continuing to sharpen the blade. He ignores her grabbing her wrist and pulling her attention from the dagger. 

“You almost lost your life today.” He says. Matar shrugs. 

“I was protecting my people Paul Atredies, it’s what we do,” she responds. 

“Maybe, but I have lost far too many people I care about. You will not be next Matar.” He says.

“Paul,” Matar begins. 

“Going south, I’ll take control. I can protect you and protect us all once we’ve made an attack against the emperor,” he argues. Matar is stuck. She is angry. She doesn’t want this. She opens her mouth to recant. To tell him he is wrong. Nothing comes out. She pauses again. She’s quiet for a while and then.

“Usul. You told me once. About these…oceans, on your home planet. Describe them again.” She requests. Surprising Paul and herself. 

“Caladan is covered in oceans and water. They are… as blue as your eyes.” He smiles at her. “As deep as them too. There’s no end even as you look at the horizon. They go on forever.” He explains. 

“I still… do not believe you Paul Atreides,” Matar answers, ignoring the growing warmth in her face. 

“You will,” Paul says without thought. 

“We, shall…”

“Lisan al Gaib, Come” Stilgar calls, “There’s much to do before our journey tomorrow. We must prepare!”

Matar lets out I sigh. 

“You’re celebration awaits Paul Atreides.” she says. 

“Matar,” He says softly. 

“I will see you at dawn…Lisan al Gaib.”  a moment of hurt flashes in Paul's eyes but it’s gone before Matar can register it. They both turn and part for the evening.

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A/N: This is Part one of ? We're still discussing the terms of this collab LOL

IF you'd like to be added to a tag list for this story please let me know! I know for my followers that read my Henry fics this is a bit different but I hope you enjoyed this too. If you decide to give it a read :) Thank you all. Dont forget to check out @hey-its-roseaurum Sherlock fic!

Tag list:

@enchantedbytomandhenry @summersong69 @carrie80reads @identity2212 @caramariehurst @redheadrouge @warriormirkwood@gummydummy19@deandoesthingstome@shellyshellshell@mary-ann84@starfirewildheart@foxyjwls007

[redactedgender]

songs i associate with redacted audio characters - speaker edition

!! CW FOR MENTIONS OF ADDICTION, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS, AND AARON & ELLIOTT'S BACKSTORY !!

this is gonna be exactly what it says on the tin. there'll be some explanations under the cut for what im doing w this!

to keep it brief, im giving each of the characters under the cut three songs from my playlists of them, and go into a little detail on why i chose them/have them in their playlists. sounds simple, right? i'll also be including links to the songs if you want to add them to your own playlists!

with that, let me explain what the fuck is up shjdkfdsh

so a bit of context: i grew up writing karaoke fanfics on wattpad, which if you don't know, were reader-submitted requests for specific characters to sing songs within a short story, mainly in a group setting at karaoke. this has made me extremely specific with music and assigning them to characters, along with finding "singing voice-claims" for characters. so, i have some credentials when it comes to this stuff fjdhsgshjgd

with that explanation out of the way, onto the fun! one of the songs listed for each of them will be their svc (singing voice-claim), except for gavin, because i'm still working on finding his svc (i am leaning towards dpr ian for him though because... don't go insane. yeah)

if that all makes sense...

let's go!

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gavin

horns - bryce fox

; so this is the song i used as the title for my big ol' gaviant smut i wrote (shameless plug shhhhh). this song is just so gavin, especially season one gavin. the sex appeal that oozes from it, the way the singer wants the subject so badly even if he knows she's bad for him. like, s1!gavin wasn't a bad guy, but he was kind of morally ambiguous in a way that could be read as toxic. however, as freelancer's relationship with him deepened, we learn that he values consent and being authentic, something other concubi don't. what can i say, i like good character growth.

human - dodie

; this was one of the first songs i put on his playlist, and for good reason. this song, to me, is freelancer singing this about and to gavin. it's about connection, it's about wanting to see what the other person is like under the persona they've created. this song is what happened when freelancer began learning about gavin past the "sex daemon" persona, but its also what happened when gavin learned about freelancer and how they were more than a "jack-of-a-trades mess of a human". listen i love the two of them so much.

sweet tooth - scott helman

; a more recent addition to my playlist, this one also makes a lot of sense to me. this song is about addiction, and while gavin like, literally needs feelings of desire to live, it also can be said that he probably has had an unhealthy relationship with sex in the past. i also just really like this song. but i think gavin has healed a lot of his attitudes towards his fellow concubi, with freelancer's help and of his own personal efforts.

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elliott

dream boy - waterparks

; we have reached our first official svc! awsten knight of waterparks is my elliott svc. does this is really match my face claim for him? kinda? i had this svc waaay before i had josh hutcherson as elliott actually. but, to talk abt the song itself, i mean. c'mon now. it's literally elliott to sunshine. the vision in my brain is that elliott sings this at karaoke before he and sunshine get together, but are definitely both pining hardcore for each other. there's something about the playful flirty energy of this song that reminds me of elliott in the best way imaginable. he's just a little dorky, what can i say!

wasted summers - juju

; i like some angst! im not all fluff and humor and smut. i appreciate a good angst now and then. my brand of angst is just kind of specific. you'll see that in a sec. but this song just reminds me of elliott and aaron for obvious reasons. how aaron grew up too fast cuz of their parents, how aaron felt jealous and angry over elliott telling him and their mom about magic, how elliott told sunshine he's the protective type because of how he grew up (side note i have many thoughts abt elliott & blake and protection vs possession if anyone would be interested lmao). their relationship just makes me go a bit insane /pos.

still got it - troye sivan

; ALRIGHT THIS REQUIRES A BIT OF AN EXPLANATION. so i basically have a whole mv planned in my big ol' brain around this song, and around the concept of: what if scorpius' memory erasing worked for longer? what if elliott genuinely thought, for a bit, that he and sunshine had a bad breakup, but that he still loved them? and still "wanted them back"? only to then have the memories, the real ones, come back in a flood of sensory overload and horrible realizations? see? i like angst. :]

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porter

brutus - the buttress

; first things first, i dont support this band due to their transphobic comments. that being said, this song is incredibly porter-coded. "my whole life you were a teacher and friend to me / please know my actions are not motivated only by envy" - like this is just about will and vincent. i don't have to explain further.

we don’t have to dance - andy black

; porter's svc! i liked this song for him cuz i imagine treasure is the first person in a loooong time that porter has actually wanted to stay around, even though he's so used to these one night stands and passionate scenes. and even though he really likes treasure, he still goes back to the old him: offering just to dance, just to fuck, just for this to be casual.

car lights - james marriott

; so i have a little headcanon that porter's maker was someone that porter was dating in secret because he (maker) was the kind of guy who would say homophobic things in front of others, but would end the night with his tongue down porter's throat (or something like that). this song is about that kind of experience: worried you're about to be caught despite it feeling so fucking good. also, this song just kinda slaps.

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lasko

stutter - marianas trench

; this song just makes sense, not just in the fact that lasko stammers and stutters a lot when talking (especially when he's excited, god hes adorable) but also in that lasko is basically a hyperverbal autistic/auDHD person who constantly talks even when they don't have the energy to do so (totally not projecting what) and i think that's representation we don't always see. also, imagine him finding this song and dancing to it? yeah.

eraser - ricky montgomery

; lasko's svc! does this surprise anyone? actually it might. i love ricky montgomery so much, his debut album is one of my favorite pieces of music out there and i think he's such a talented artist. his range and subject matter in his songs always screamed lasko to me, and ricky's vocals just match lasko so much. this song is about being socially awkward, which like. yeah. i have like four or five ricky songs on my lasko playlist which is really funny actually hgjkfdhsdh!

my mother wants me dead - carolesdaughter

; lasko "mommy issues" moore anyone? yeah this song is that. i know i could have gone for the mitski mommy issues, but something about lasko tells me his mommy issues are like rage. like, as much rage as lasko can have towards a person. the damn fam and their mommy issues. this song also plays into my hc that lasko used to smoke before starting at D.A.M.N., picking it up after the inversion, and then quitting again once he started healing and met coworker.

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guy

fallin’ for you - r5

; as you all know by now, ross lynch is my guy faceclaim. and while i love the driver era (a kiss is also on my guy playlist, it is in fact the best tde song), ross' voice during the r5 era actually suits guy a little more to me if im being honest. also, its a hc of mine that guy's family did music, but guy had a really bad falling out with his parents and it kinds ruined things for a while. r5!ross's vocals are higher than now, since this was during the disney era, but this song is just too perfect to me not to use for guy.

30/90 from tick…tick…BOOM!

; i mentioned this in my face claim post, but i had andrew garfield as my guy face claim because of this song from the movie. it's just like literally guy tho. we know guy's a writer, we know how writers are. as a writer myself (not professionally), "30/90" is more than just representation of someone wanting to peak before their past "the right age"; this is about creatives wanting to make something that will last longer than their life, and that just screams guy to me. i don't think he wants to be famous, but i think he wants to have a legacy of media he creates last longer than himself.

honey - troye sivan

; listen. "something to give each other" is my favorite album from 2023, and most of those songs remind me of one redacted character or another, so if there's a lot of songs in my playlists from this album, shush. anyways, this song is an obvious choice for guy since it's titled "honey", but if you listen to it, it actually is a pretty sweet (eh? eh??) song. it's about falling for someone and wanting to be with them, and since its a fandom wide hc that guy probably fell in love with honey upon first meeting them, this plays into that idea. look i just love how much of a simp guy is for honey, what can i say?

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if i have any more energy to do more of these i will, but my spring break ends soon so we'll see. also, i managed to make height charts for redacted audio characters & listeners if anyone would wanna see those (they would include my listener oc's). also, if you have any songs you think fit the bois, i may open my asks again if you want to send those to me :0

[rivetgoth]

2020s Industrial/EBM & Friends

Hi all! I decided to go ahead and make a Spotify playlist of current artists in the industrial/EBM [and adjacent] scene. I am very tired of stumbling onto countless threads of people saying that industrial music is "dead." It is in fact currently experiencing an incredible booming renaissance! So here is a place where one could hopefully get started.

The requirements for this playlist are simply

Must be within the industrial/EBM scene or close enough to count by my own standards. Trying to avoid anything too far off, so keeping "sibling" genres to a minimum (for example, darkwave or aggrotech), but obviously the genre has evolved very much over the decades and there is still plenty of fusion and diversity in sound!

Must have released new music since 2020 or onwards. This playlist is a combination of older artists who are continuing to release new music (such as PIG and IAMX) as well as brand new artists who have just begun their career with debut EPs (such as Normal Bias and FUEDAL). The only requirement is making new music from 2020 to present; this isn't about new bands per se, just currently active ones. I would like to keep updating this playlist as time goes on and more artists release new work, but that may end up being a time commitment larger than I can promise, so no guarantee on that. But hopefully!

One song per band. This is just to keep things consistent. I wanted to pick a song for each band that's either somewhat popular so as to give an idea of what they're doing that's catching people's attention, and/or a personal preference of my own that I think is cool and worth checking out, lol. Order doesn't matter at all, you can shuffle it as much as you like.

While artists from all backgrounds are featured and I want to make an active effort not to tokenize, I did try to include a wide range of diverse artists, with numerous artists of color, female artists, queer artists, neurodivergent artists, etc on this list.

A few other preemptive Q&As:

"[x] band I like isn't on here!"

I am absolutely, 100% confident I have missed more bands than I can even fathom, this is a massive genre and this playlist is in no way whatsoever meant to be comprehensive. I definitely want this playlist to continue to evolve over time. I also admittedly may have not included a band because I just don't really personally care for them enough, or because I didn't feel like they quite fit the sound I was thinking of here. Feel free to send me an ask if you feel like I'm missing something important, and even if I'm not huge on a band, if it seems like they're high in demand I might add them for posterity, lol.

"[x] band isn't real industrial"

Again, this genre has evolved massively since its formation in the 70s. We all know that. I don't really care about splitting hairs too much when it comes to genres; I'm basing this on the scene as it's currently evolved, the community surrounding it (including who these bands play with and the festivals booking them), the cited inspirations and self identification of the bands themselves, and if I personally would be able to sleep at night if I called them industrial in casual conversation, LMAO. I also consider fusion genres a very important part of the life and evolution of a genre, so industrial hip hop, industrial metal, and the likes all make some appearances.

"Spotify sucks"

Yeah. Agreed entirely, cannot argue with you there. But this is the easiest avenue I know of to make a decent, accessible playlist for a wide variety of listeners. Please do check out these artists offsite, follow them on Bandcamp or their other social media sites, buy their music and merch, etc. Unfortunately this also means that many artists who are not on Spotify aren't featured here, which sucks, since there are some absolutely amazing industrial bands coming out of Bandcamp right now who deserve recognition. Here is a link to the "industrial" tag on Bandcamp if you want to dive deeper.

Hopefully at least a few people can get something out of this!!

[shadedheart138]

Too Much Thinking Is Bad For My Health (Part 3)

"Time, c'mon. Let's try 'nd make it t' th' spring." Twilight said gently, cradling Warriors so very gently to his chest. A hand behind his head, as if trying to shield him from the world. Time looked over at Warriors. His poor, poor brother. The man who raised him. More than The Great Deku Tree did anyway. Forget his father being a tree, his father was Warriors, more than anything.

"Twilight, we'll... we'll never make it." Time's voice cracked, and his eyes teared again. How could he have let this happen? Again, his thoughts were spiraling, repeating themselves. How could he have fixed this? When did he let it get so bad? After all this, was this how his brother died? Cradled in someone's hands, like a delicate scrap of flower? Did-

Warriors' chest gave an odd heave, the sign that his heart was trying to quit on him again. Twilight jumped. "Time, the fairy-"

Time's hands were already grabbing for the fairy bag, carefully taking out the last one.

Time's hand brushed something, as he lifted her from the bag and released her from her bottle.

The-

Oh.

His ocarina.

Time pulled it out of the bag, staring at it with wide eyes. The last time he'd used it was... was Termina. Time travel, those three days. Over and over and over. Those people that didn't remember him, oh how little he was. Tiny. Playing with time like a toy, until he realized just how important it was to stop the moon from falling. Frantically running through temples, trying to get to the final chamber before the final day. Over and over, those days. Repeating and doing the same thing. Mikau. Anju and Kafei. Darmani. Kamaro. Gone, lost to time and Termina. He'd never see them again.

What if he playing the song now? Would this cycle repeat too? Of him seeing his brother die over and over and over and see him collapse and convulse and seize and cry in his sleep and then never move again? Would he have to witness Wind's sobs and cries and pleas over and over and over until his voice died? Wild's guilt, Sky's fear, Twilight's remorse? Legend's buried horror and sorrow, Hyrule's hopelessness, Four's despair? See all of them go through it all over and over and over and over until he collapsed till the moon fell till everyone died and no one could be saved and he couldn't bring the ocarina to his lips anymore and had no more air to breathe-

"Time! Breathe!"

Twilight had set Warriors down gently in a patch of grass, and was currently gripping Time by a shoulder. "Set the ocarina down, unless you fancy smashin' it by grippin' it so hard. Take a couple breaths, Old man." Time's hands shook, and his chest heaved as he took panicked breaths. "The ocarina." He said, voice barely heard through the wavering tone and lack of air.

"The what?" Twilight asked gently, trying to figure out why Time had suddenly panicked as soon as his fingers had wrapped around his instrument.

"The ocarina. I can save him. I can. The Song of Time. Three days. I can-"

"You can take a breath, and talk to me, Time. You're spoutin' a whole lotta gibberish. I don't speak gibberish." Twilight had crossed his arms, but his face was worried.

"You said you can save him. How? What will it cost?" What would it cost? No one would remember the panic, the fear, the hurt. Only Time. Only Link, who was too young in body and too old in soul, would remember. Three more days to add to the never ending tally. But Link would remember. He'd remember the screams of horror, the sound of Wind's knees hitting the ground. The sound of his sobs and wails as he watched Warriors die. He'd remember Legend's quiet crying, into the hat that Warriors had stitched up for him so many times. He'd remember Hyrule wearing himself to magic exhaustion in the effort to try and ease his brother's pain. To heal it. He'd remember Wild's frantic guilt, as he wondered if he'd suddenly been the cause of all this. He'd remember Sky's shaking voice, as he tried to soothe. He'd remember Twilight's hiccups and shudders as he held onto Warriors' hand through a watch. He'd remember Four's erratic shouting, as they seemed to fall apart from the inside out.

Link would remember when others wouldn't. Oh, how he'd remember.

"Just a little air. Then we'll go back three days and this would've never happened." Time lied easily, getting up. Twilight visibly brightened. This seemed like a cure-all, though mildly sketchy. Anything to try and save Warriors.

Time lifted the ocarina to his lips, hands shaking, and began to play.

XXX

The moon was falling was the moon falling where were the masks he needed did he lose one no where's the deity mask I need that to fight which was next what to I do where's Saria WHY WON'T IT COME OFF NAVI HELP HELP HELP TATL COME BACK-

"LINK!"

Warriors' voice.

Time had suddenly scrambled away from the fire, eyes wide. He'd tossed his ocarina across the camp, to where it skittered to be near Sky. Sky picked it up gently and started to clean the dirt off of it, frowning. Time had then proceeded to curl up in a ball, grip his hair, and scream.

"Sprite, Link, come on. Talk to me, please. What happened? Are you hurt?"

Warriors' voice was frantic but he was there and he was okay and he wasn't pale yeah he was still painfully thin but he was there and he was okay and he wasn't dead or dying or-

"Link, please. Breathe." Time's chest heaved, whines and gasps leaving him. Warriors held him tight. This sudden breakdown... what could've happened to make Time break so thoroughly?

"No no no no no no no the moon is falling where's the moon what day is it one two or three where's Tatl? Please, I don't want to go back to Termina-" He was speaking aloud. Warriors increased the pressure of his hold.

"Link, look. See?" He pointed between the trees. "The moon is right there, nice and far away. A crescent, tonight." Time looked up.

There it was, the moon. No evil grin. No Majora. No numbered days.

Time took a steadier breath.

"There you go. Can I ask what set this off?" Warriors' voice was gentle, a hand cradling Time to his neck, like he'd do when Time was little. Fresh out of Termina. Time shuddered with a sob, crying instead of screaming. His hands came to latch onto Warriors' clothes- Warriors, alive and not well, but alive. Heart beating steady.

"You died." Time sobbed quietly.

"I-... Link, I'm not dead. I'm not dying any time soon. What brought this on-"

"You died so many times. Over and over and over and there weren't enough fairies to get us to Ordona's spring. Poison, Wars. You poisoned yourself and you died." Time shuddered again, tears pouring down his face.

Warriors froze. Poison. How did Time know?

"How did-"

"The Song of Time. Three days. I moved back three days. We were having chili that night. Then you didn't eat and so Wild made you snacks but you didn't eat and on your watch I surprised you so it was my fault you poisoned yourself and died-"

"Slow down, Sprite. Slow-"

"And everyone was screaming and crying and we couldn't save you and so I-" "Mask."

Time froze, hiccupping and crying. The camp was quiet.

"You used the Song of Time?"

Time nodded, gripping the back of Warriors' shirt hard enough it was ripping holes.

"I... I died?"

Another nod, another sob.

Warriors just held Time for a moment, thinking to himself. He'd died, huh. Funny how it was something he was so paranoid of dying to.

"Warriors." Wind's voice was quiet, as he came by. Wars looked up. Wind was holding out a blanket with worry evident on his face.

"Thanks, Sailor. We'll be fine."

Wind frowned, but he turned away to leave them be. Warriors looked back down at Time, still crying and clinging to him.

"Dad." Time's voice was small. Full of fear.

Time had only called Warriors dad exactly three times, when he was Mask. Once when he was so sick that he couldn't even open his eyes; he'd called for Warriors to read him a story book. Once when he'd gotten an an arrow through his side and was convinced he was going to die.

And once again, as he held Warriors' hand so tight and was transported home.

"Shhhhhhh. It's alright." Oh Hylia, Warriors couldn't do this.

"I don't want you to die again, please don't let this be another cycle-"

"It won't be. In the morning, we can have a nice long chat about this, okay? About the poison problem, I mean. It's probably high time I talk to someone about this." Artemis had told him that for years.

Time rubbed his eyes, and tried sitting up, realizing just how ridiculous he probably looked. Crying into Warriors' shoulder. Wasn't he supposed to be the leader? Strong and mighty and unshakable? He had an apology ready on his tongue when Warriors pulled him back in.

"Sit your ass back down, Link." Time sat back down, tears still pouring no matter how fast he rubbed his eyes. Ridiculous. He was (somewhere) in his thirties, why was he crying? The crisis had been averted. Warriors wasn't dead.

But he had been.

Warriors cradled Time as close as he could, given the height difference.

"I'm sorry, Link. We'll have a talk in the morning, okay? For now, get some sleep."

Time closed his eyes, and relaxed into Warriors' hold. He slept through the night. There would need to be a big, long talk in the morning, but for now, they were okay. And they'd be okay.

fin.

@rrainydaydreams and @rebornofstars IT'S DONE RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[dipplinduo]

Hey there! I'm actually a big fan of your work , and as a rookie writer myself, I wanted to know if you have some motivation advises (Comparison gives me so much writer blocks and I don't even post)

I love how I received and chose to answer this ask after having a lack of motivation streak that I only broke quite literally a few hours ago xD

I think it's interesting you're bringing up comparison - it honestly might be at the root of what you're specifically experiencing so I'm gonna focus my response on that. I could be off, but it sounds like seeing what other people are doing feels intimidating and puts a lot of pressure on you. So if it isn't "perfect" or "up to par" with what others seem to be doing, it's not good enough to post.

This is my personal take:

I saw a post (wish I could link it but can't remember where it was) that really resonated with me not too long ago. It talked about how we've been conditioned as a society in a way to see a lot of the arts as something to perfect; if you want to sing, you should focus on learning how to become a good singer. If you are a dancer, you should focus on learning forms to become a better dancer.

The post goes on to make the point that this is not why the arts were founded in the first place.

We as humans began to sing because we enjoyed singing. We danced because we liked to dance. We paint, write, and draw because - at each art's purest and most rudimentary form - it is the power and experience of personal expression. The benefit wasn't to be perfect, it was to enjoy the creative outlet in itself.

This is what has always connected me to writing. This is why I'm okay with posting the way I do, and why I don't mind light humor about my typos and all that. Because at the end of the day, you're writing because you enjoy it. You're writing to express and share with others. And you're doing it all for free. Your willingness to give the gift of your creativity out to the world is beautiful in itself.

This next part might sound a lot easier said than done, but again, this is all just my personal route that goes in conjunction with this philosophy:

See other writers/creators as your peers. Think of it like a potluck - everyone's bringing their own food, and everyone has different ideas. But it's cool because now you have mashed potatoes along with your favorite food, and someone else brought ice cream. No one dish is going to "win" - it's the culmination of everyone's efforts that fills plates up and make the event (fandom) enjoyable and connective.

Recognize the way in which your fic is uniquely yours. What's the touch you want to have? Things you enjoy that you want to feel yourself as you create, and perhaps share with others? Romance, humor, fun, peace, angst? Maybe certain situations for characters, or a moment you want to see with your favorite ship? The more you get in touch with what you want to portray, the more credit you'll be able to rightfully give your own work.

Engage with creators/commenters that are additive to your personal enjoyment and creativity. Going with the whole "this is all for fun, and is basically everyone's hobby over life and death" thing - the people you surround yourself with, or even the content you consume, can directly affect your experience in writing for a fandom. I personally get a lot out of talking about my ideas with others and through inviting and responding to feedback from people that engage with my work. If you like engaging with someone else's work, go ahead! See what stands out to you as inspiring, and let that be your takeaway to mull on (as you're essentially learning more about yourself and what you find entertaining or engaging).

I'm gonna get off my soapbox now (lol), but I also wanted to add one more thing:

There unfortunately is a competitive culture in a lot of recreational spaces, and especially with the arts and over the internet lol. There are people who like to overly criticize because it makes them feel better about themselves/their own work, there are people who may choose to dislike you or your work simply because they view you as competition, etc.

These kinds of choices some (not the majority of people!) may choose to make hold no actual reflection of your character or what you're writing. It is someone else's reflection being projected onto you. You may not be able to control what they do, but you can control how you respond. And my advice on that?

It's your free time. Don't give the haters a platform, just disengage & tune into the folks that uplift & encourage you instead. B)

[dandyshucks]

ooooh babeyyy who's the best headmate? yeah, that's right - it's me LMAO. hi everyone, how y'all doing, it's Chase again 👋 in an effort to be somewhat social and also to brag about my capabilities, I am making a post on this blog lmao.

Look at this shit y'all (idk what mobile formatting looks like so uh. use desktop maybe):

You get a secret sneak preview to this lmao, the link isn't anywhere on the main page yet.

Anyways in the past three days while Juno's been AWOL, I've figured out how to add an audio player; how to layer elements on the webpage; and how to align the text and images beside each other inside the scroll box while maintaining the vertical scroll (it kept lining everything up horizontally for a while lmfao).

The text beside the images is just some bullshit that Lake and I came up with (based off of stuff Juno's written/brainstormed in the past) to test the text alignment out since Juno isn't around to give me any input, but I feel like we did a good job making it sound like some shit they'd come up with lol.

I'll give a small update on The Situation while I'm here in case anyone's wondering what's been going on:

I never know how much I'm supposed to say about anything lol uhhh.

TL;DR is just that Juno was having a very difficult time the past week because of Things, and is now unreachable and thus won't be fronting for an indeterminate amount of time - they could be back tomorrow, they might be back in a week, I have no fucking idea tbh. So this blog is on semi-hiatus until they're back because the rest of us either don't have a lot of interest in the s.elfship stuff ourselves or we just don't want to like... intrude on this space.

slightly longer version of it (TW abuse and suicide mention):

some emotional abuse stuff at home has been ramping up significantly, and this has been having an extremely bad effect on Juno (understandably so) especially since they've been trying to handle this shit without our help, so we've had to put them on lockdown essentially so we can like. remain alive lol. I'm trying not to be too flippant about it but uh yeah. that's the gist of it. love a good suicide scare, amiright? I'm not in charge of the decision to put them on lockdown, I have no say in how it all gets handled, I'm just here to fill the host role while Juno's gone.

They'll be gone until Kam and Lake decide they're okay enough to not do anything stupid and desperate the moment they get into front lmao, so in the meantime I'm the one who'll be fronting for the most part. And while I do like the idea of getting with G.uzma myself, I don't have much of an interest in posting about it LMAO - plus my own dynamic with the guy would be pretty fucking different from Juno's, and that's not what y'all followed for.

(Kam - "gatekeeper"/the one who's basically in charge of shit and also the resident lesbian; Lake - bisexual swag with big caretaker energy; Chase (me) - faggy freak who probably shouldn't have this much responsibility lmaoooo)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I Am Blackened Bones (Part 2)

Sometimes he looks at pictures of her and his heart aches. Most of the time he thinks that it is his fault. And maybe, partly it is. He is her older brother and he can’t say that he was the best at it. Azula, of course, was no delight to him. Once or twice Zuko swears that she had been, in her own way, trying to connect, trying to be kind. But it always felt short. She just…she never felt sincere. And so he never felt compelled to show her any compassion. He can’t imagine that she would show him any were their roles switched. 

And yet he stares at her portrait. At her perfect, impeccable smile. Not a hair out of place, not a crinkle in her clothing. A far cry from the last state that he’d seen her in. Although he must say that she looked at least a little better. Her face had regained its color and her eyes had lost that odd glint. 

“I think that I should try to find her.” Zuko comments one day over dinner. 

“Who?” Aang inquires. 

“My sister.” 

“Did you already try that?” Katara asks.

“It’s a waste of time.” Mai sighs. “She doesn’t want to be found.” 

Zuko shrugs. “Yeah. Maybe.” The last that he had heard any news of her at all had been two months ago. A fire in a factory then things had been quiet around Caldera City.

“She’ll turn up eventually, she always does.” Mai mutters.

“Usually at the worst time too.” Sokka adds with a swish of his fork. 

But she doesn’t. Not in the month to come nor the month to follow that one. And then Zuko would get swept up in politics and duties and a vacation or two. He doesn’t know it now, he has absolutely no clue, but it would be another four years before he’d think to look for his sister again. 

While he eats his supper, his sister enjoys her fifth day of fire.

.oOo.

As many things do, it begins as only a vague cause for alarm. A subtle sense that something is not right. The kind that she would readily dismiss if she hadn’t experience to tell her that some of the worst fates have come in the wake of tiny inconveniences. 

Her little itch is a hole. 

This minuscule blank spot in her mind.

It used to be a memory that occupied that space. 

A useless fun fact to be precise. 

She can no longer recall how tall the average komodo rhino grows to be. She remembers that she had a phase as a child. She had a stuffed toy that father had won for her at a sun festival. She remembers the jingling bells tied to the stall. She also remembers the smell of spicy sausage links and the sound of their sizzling. She remembers tugging on father’s sleeve and asking for one. He had gotten her two since it was her birthday. And then she got to ride one of the komodo rhinos—its name was Kenzo. She held her stuffed komodo rhino, nibbling on its horn until father reminded her that doing so was unbecoming, and that big girls didn’t chew or suck on their toys. Lu Ten came home the next day and he had fashioned some armor for her toy. For his efforts and troubles she had prattled on and on about real komodo rhinos. She could list off everything that there was to know about komodo rhinos; their horn length, their average weight, what to feed them, and how to saddle them. She still knows these things. All of them except for how tall they grow to be. 

She sits upon a large rock, lightly beating a fiery fist against a flaming forehead, as though she can knock the memory back into her mind. But no matter how hard she tries she can’t seem to fish it back out of that hole. And so the blank space remains, small but seeming to gape all the same. 

Azula rubs her hands over her face. Not that she can call them hands anymore. They look more like twigs on the end of a branch of a smoldering tree. At first she thought that she was looking at bone…her bones. But no, her arms have a very distinctly woody texture and spines to go with it beneath all of that fire. Her ribcage on the other hand, is very much still bone and it is displayed openly with her flesh burned away from it. In place of guts and throbbing bits, she has a belly full of fire. A belly like a furnace that never stops raging. She doesn’t know what her face looks like, she doesn’t want to. But she imagines that it is no longer pleasant to look at. Perhaps it is hollow and skull like. Perhaps her eye sockets are empty of eyes. But how then, would she see? She knows that she has a tail, it is long and rigid and spiny like her arms. It bares likeness to a hardened lava floe, complete with cracks, glows, and occasional pops of sparks. It warps around her when she is feeling dread—an involuntary motion from an appendage that she hasn’t learned to use. It is wrapped around her now. It has been wrapped around her since her transformation. 

Azula, for all of her intense warmth, shivers and trembles. Not for the first time in her life, she doesn’t know what to do. But for the very first time in her life, she hasn’t even a semblance of a plan. 

Most of the time she finds herself wandering, occasionally stopping to catch the attention of a spirit. But when she begins to ask her question, only fire and smoke spouts from her mouth. Her words are weak, her voice soft and lost beneath the fire’s roar. 

And so the spirits slink or dash away from her, terrified of the power that she hadn’t meant to unleash before them. 

She is no closer to uncovering the how and the why. Possibly the who. Which spirit had done this to her? Or had it been the universe itself? Had she done this to herself? She thinks that she might have—with some help of course. The last of this gaggle of spirits flutter away. 

But she cannot weep for the fire steals her tears before they are shed. The feeling is still there constricting her chest. Azula is terribly sad and this time she doesn’t think that she can salvage anything at all. 

And so she wraps her arms around herself and carries on. 

Lost…

Lonely…

Suffering…

[asjjohnson]

Part 9 of my poll adventure fic. Links: the beginning, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8.

—

"So, Mr..."—Lancer narrowed his eyes—"...Phantom."

"Fantom with an 'F', yes," Dan specified.

"Right." Lancer still sounded suspicious. He typed something on a computer for a few seconds. "Hmm... So your son is in his first year of high school... I think we have room for him here." Then Lancer glanced back at Dan. "If you don't mind my asking, how old are you?"

"Tw— ah, thirty-five."

Dan hadn't put much effort into this disguise. He mostly just changed his coloration to his old human colors.

He'd had to be more creative for his primary disguise. A fourteen-year-old persona couldn't look too much like Danny Fenton, so, no black hair or blue eyes.

Lancer mumbled under his breath, "I wish I'd had that much hair at thirty-five." He cleared his throat. "Do you have young Daniel's school records?"

"He prefers the name 'Dan'."

Lancer nodded. "That's perfectly fine. But I do need those records. As well as his birth certificate, your proof of address, and his vaccination record. ...If you can provide those?" Lancer picked up a piece of paper and slid it around for Dan to see. "You'll also need to fill out this form."

Dan blinked, mouth falling open just slightly.

He had not realized so much would be involved. How would he get a fake birth certificate? Could he just invent an address? Maybe pick a house and take it over?

Dan glanced at the form in front of him.

Phone number. How was he going to get a phone?

Oh well. There was a simple way to handle all of this.

Dan leaped into Lancer and overshadowed him.

"Oh, now I remember," Dan said through Lancer, "you've already shown me everything that's needed. And, well," Dan picked up the form and ripped it in half, "you don't really need this form after all." He dropped the pieces into a trashcan beside Lancer's desk. "What a coincidence that Danny Fenton has the exact same grades as your son up to the CAT. I'll just copy Danny Fenton's information into your son's file, and everything will be finished. Dan Fantom can start school on Monday. Have a nice day, Mr. Fantom."

Dan pulled out of Lancer.

Lancer blinked a few times. "Er... Ah, yes. I believe we're all set here. ...I think."

(This poll's mostly just about what's going through Dan's head and the tone of the next part.)

—

“Alert me when there’s an update” list:

@charlietheepic7, @chrysanthemum9484, @mymadmedleyw, @dp-marvel94, @aikoiya, @whydouwantmyname, @cinturon-cadena, @freakofyournature, @satanicrutialspecialist, @danphantom80, @kaezer

(if you want on the list, specifically ask to be alerted for updates in a tag or comment. Ask again if I forget to add you! If I can’t tag you, I’ll send a Message.)

[iviarellereads]

The Great Hunt, Chapter 18 - To the White Tower

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Flame icon) In which someone makes a promise that may or may not be very easy to keep.

PERSPECTIVE: Egwene. The wind rose as soon as the ships were full, and it hadn't even let up for a moment since, day or night. Nynaeve has suffered with motion sickness and swears she'll never board a boat again.(1) Egwene isn't so bothered by that, but Nynaeve asks if she had another Dream. She did, not so different from the others, she just wishes she could make sense of them. Anaiya Sedai clearly knows more than she's letting on, though, that's for sure.

The man in the mask is the most troubling part, and yet, Egwene hasn't been able to bring herself to tell Anaiya about that part. Something told her it was better that Anaiya not know about him.(2)

They're getting fed up of one another and the conversation when the Amyrlin herself walks in to give them their daily lesson. At Nynaeve's protests, the Amyrlin says some told her Nynaeve would do well to spend time as a novice, but she herself believes that those with the ability deserve to advance with it, and she suspects Nynaeve will learn a great deal at the Tower.

Nynaeve says she'd rather a Warder show her how to use a sword, and the Amyrlin conjures a sword with a weave of Air, saying it's as good as most steel blades, but still not much use to a woman. It changes to a paring knife and she comments that this is a useful tool. The knife disappears, the weave ended, and the Amyrlin says that both are more effort than they're worth. You have to learn when to use your ability, and how, and when it's better to do things without it. Using the Power too much makes you like it too much, and that way lies danger.

Nynaeve says she'd as soon learn something useful, no more stirring the air and lighting candles and putting them back out again. The Amyrlin conjures another weave of air that paralyzes both young women, and asks if this is useful, when a man rushes at you with a sword? She lifts Nynaeve with it, explaining that if she doesn't like where the man is, she can simply move him. She even says that she'd love to use this to fly, the Age of Legends Aes Sedai could fly, somehow, but not with this weave. You can pick up something heavier than yourself with it, but you can never pick yourself up.(3)

All the while, Nynaeve is demanding to be let go.

“So,” the Amyrlin continued, “big, hairy man, and so forth. He can do nothing to me, while I can do anything at all to him. Why, if I had a mind to”—she leaned forward, her eyes intent on Nynaeve; suddenly her smile did not seem very friendly—“I could turn him upside down and paddle his bottom. Just like—” Suddenly the Amyrlin flew backwards so hard her head rebounded from the wall, and there she stayed, as if something were pressing against her. Egwene stared, her mouth dry. This isn’t happening. It isn’t. “They were right,” the Amyrlin said. Her voice sounded strained, as though she found it hard to breathe. “They said you learned quickly. And they said it took your temper burning to get to the heart of what you can do.” She took a struggling breath. “Shall we release each other together, child?” Nynaeve, floating in the air with her eyes ablaze, said, “You let me go right now, or I’ll—” Abruptly a look of amazement came over her face, a look of loss. Her mouth worked silently.

The Amyrlin asks if Nynaeve thought that she could be cut off from the True Source like that, and adds that when she's raised to full Aes Sedai, no woman will be able to do that. The stronger you become, the more women it takes to shield you from the Power against your will. Does Nynaeve want to learn now?

Nynaeve stares at the Amyrlin grimly, and the Amyrlin says if Nynaeve had less potential than she does, she'd be off to the Mistress of Novices indefinitely, but she will get what she deserves. She lets go of the weave and the shield, dropping Nynaeve to her bed. Now, if there's nothing else, on with the lesson.

Egwene is sweating by the time the Amyrlin leaves, the hardest taskmaster they've had yet. Nynaeve says it's not Egwene's fault, but if she says one word to anyone... Not a word, Egwene promises, she doesn't remember anything to say a word about.

Shortly, the ship eases its rocking, and they rush onto the deck. They've reached Tar Valon.

The island was so big it looked more as if the river split in two than contained a bit of land. Bridges that seemed to be made of lace arched from either bank to the island, crossing marshy ground as well as the river. The walls of the city, the Shining Walls of Tar Valon, glistened white as the sun broke through the clouds(4). And on the west bank, its broken top leaking a thin wisp of smoke, Dragonmount reared black against the sky, one mountain standing among flat lands and rolling hills. Dragonmount, where the Dragon had died. Dragonmount, made by the Dragon’s dying.(5) Egwene wished she did not think of Rand when she looked at the mountain. A man channeling. Light, help him.

They get off the ship and goggle at all the pretty in the city for several paragraphs.

“Fair takes the breath at first sight,” said a woman’s voice behind them. “At tenth sight, for that. And at hundredth.” Egwene turned. The woman was Aes Sedai; Egwene was sure of it, though she wore no shawl. No one else had that ageless look; and she held herself with an assurance, a confidence that seemed to confirm it. A glance at her hand showed the golden ring, the serpent biting its own tail. The Aes Sedai was a little plump, with a warm smile, and one of the oddest-appearing women Egwene had ever seen. Her plumpness could not hide high cheekbones, her eyes had a tilt to them and were the clearest, palest green, and her hair was almost the color of fire. Egwene barely stopped herself from goggling at that hair, those slightly slanted eyes. “Ogier built, of course,” the Aes Sedai went on, “and their best work ever, some say. One of the first cities built after the Breaking. There weren’t half a thousand people here altogether then—no more than twenty sisters—but they built for what would be needed.” “It is a lovely city,” Nynaeve said. “We are supposed to go to the White Tower. We came here for training, but no one seems to care if we go or stay.” “They care,” the woman said, smiling. “I came here to meet you, but I was delayed speaking with the Amyrlin. I am Sheriam, the Mistress of Novices.”

Nynaeve insists that she's not to be a novice, and Sheriam Sedai agrees, though it's never been done that way before. She then looks at Egwene and talks a little about how novice training is hard, but better that they find out someone may break under the pressure as a novice, and not when lives depend on her as an Aes Sedai.

Nynaeve looked at her worriedly. “Sheriam. . . .” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Sheriam Sedai”—she seemed to force the honorific out—“does it have to be so hard on her? Flesh and blood can only take so much. I know . . . something . . . of what novices must go through. Surely there’s no need to try to break her just to find out how strong she is.” “You mean what the Amyrlin did to you today?” Nynaeve’s back stiffened; Sheriam looked as though she were trying to keep amusement from her face. “I told you I spoke with the Amyrlin. Rest your worries for your friend. Novice training is hard, but not that hard. That is for the first few weeks of being one of the Accepted.” Nynaeve’s mouth fell open; Egwene thought the Wisdom’s eyes were going to come right out of her head. “To catch the few who might have slipped through novice training when they should not have. We cannot risk having one of our number—a full Aes Sedai—who will break under the stress of the world outside.”(6) The Aes Sedai gathered them both up, an arm around the shoulders of each. Nynaeve hardly seemed to realize where she was going. “Come,” Sheriam said, “I will see you settled in your rooms. The White Tower awaits.”

=====

(1) That feels like a vow doomed to be broken at first opportunity. (2) Why would Egg might not want to trust Anaiya with the details of her dream about someone she thinks might be the Dark One incarnate? (3) How very like the bootstraps metaphor. (4) It's a vulva. The island of Tar Valon is very much extremely a vulva, with little harbours at the north and south. The "glistening" is intentional. The fandom's favourite joke is how men can never find northharbour. (Bonus: This is also the island Rand saw in a dream all the way back in book 1, chapter 9.) (5) And Creator forbid we talk about vagina island without the giant Dragonmount penis mountain next to it. The mountain whose creation, if we recall the book 1 prologue, literally made a river divert to form that island. ROBERT? ROBERT COME BACK FROM THE DEAD WE JUST WANT TO TALK! (6) What an interesting way to frame it. The hints of RJ's military service are all over the White Tower, even for folks who don't really have familiarity with military history or function to recognize. Just look at how they treat novices: practically disposable. Most will wash out. Most don't have what it takes. Novices are new recruits, and Accepted are a bare step above that, those who have learned enough to be dangerous to the establishment if not controlled properly.

[stickeefries]

Note: soo I made a one shot from my ideas... If it gets one like I will keep making them. I think I did this good. It's only a little less than 2,000 words so it is short. Also I probably will be posting this on ao3 under the same name. I'll add the link in another post to the work.

Warning: Death. Adam dies. Angst no comfort. Slight description of blood. Abuse mention. Cheating mention.

I Retrace My Steps

"No... you don't get to end this!” He has to keep going.

“I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man, and you're just some fuckin' clown or something.” He can’t stop. Not yet. Not if he wants them to live.

“I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts!” A little more. Then he can leave and have some time with Lute. Then he can pretend that things were peaceful.

“You all should be worshipping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking losers!" He heard the knife before he felt it in his back. A burning sensation spread throughout his body. Adam saw Lucifer’s lips move, no sound coming to his ears. He felt wind pass his body as he fell. Dirt rubbed into his face, a small weight pressing on his lower back. More words that fall just out of reach from his ears. The weight shifted and he felt the offending weapon pull from his body and snap back down. Over and over and over. A knife? The familiar feeling of pain rushed through his body. What is happening? The weight on his back shifts again and lifts from his body. He could barely make out the small pitter-patter of steps walking away from him. A scream sounded out his name on their lips. Adams knows that voice. Why was Lute yelling?

A hand pressed on his arm, turning him over. Lute’s face came into view. Tears were pouring down her beautiful face, golden blood marking cuts on her. Pain and despair swam in her eyes. She spoke words that he could not hear. Her voice was a soft vibration in his ears, just inaudible. Adam reached up to gently wipe the tears from her face, his hand falling shortly afterward. The effort to lift it again is too much. Exhaustion filled him, a warm liquid puddling under his body. That was his blood. The golden substance seeped from his body, a coldness covered him like a frosty blanket.

He has to stay for Lute, for the exorcists under his care. Adam fought through the fog that was covering his mind. His attempts were for naught. Memories of old played behind his eyes, a blessed break in the fog. This was it huh? His life was flashing before his eyes. He was going to die.

Adam remembers the first time he saw Lilith. She glowed with such beauty that nothing had compared to. The trees and water, animals and plants, were all nothing in comparison to her beauty. Her blonde hair reminded him of the sunlight. Her eyes were white as the feathers of doves. He was enamored the second he set eyes on her. It didn’t take long for love to set in his chest. He learned that love was fierce, fiery, and fast. He felt overwhelmed by the new emotion, angels telling him this was normal.

Not long after he learned that love also hurt. Everything he did would never be enough for her. Every flower he brought her, every compliment he gave, every moment he dedicated to her, everything he did for her, would never be enough. Soon bruises would mark his throat and wrists, a mark for talking too much, not talking enough. Because he didn’t give her the right flower, the right words, the right amount of time.

He felt relief when she started to distance herself. Soon that relief turned into pain. Lilith was with another. She was doing things he wished to do with her, with an angel. She had drawn him near to see the things that she did. Hurt filled his heart, the feeling cutting him deep. The angels had seen what happened and separated him from them. From Lilith, from Lucifer.

The second time he fell in love was when Eve came into his life. He remembers the pain that had taken over his chest. Angels tell him that they have a gift for him, but they need this part of him to give it. The first time he saw her, he feared. Her entire being was the opposite of Lilith. She was small and dainty. Brown hair and honeyed eyes that reminded him of the earth he came from. Tan skin with soft dots that covered her being. Even so, fear filled him. Would she hurt him like Lilith? Months passed before that fear faded, she never touched him with bad intentions. Instead, she helped him make food to eat, name the new animals, and was on his side when they spoke to the angels. Soon he felt love for her as well. This love was different than the love for Lilith, it was as soft as the fur of the animals they love. This love was as quick as the love for Lilith but like the current of a river.

Just as he learned from Lilith that love hurt, he learned that this love hurt as well. The moment Eve came to him, tears in her eyes, holding the one fruit that their creator told them they couldn’t have. He knew what had been done. Fear filled him, he doesn’t want to be alone again. He reached his hand out to the fruit and placed it to his lips. The sweet taste of the fruit, the first taste he had of apples. Soon after, they were banished from the very garden they learned from. They had survived. Even with blood marking their way. When he arrived in heaven with Eve following not long after, he had hope that this love would stay. But as the years passed he learned that love will always hurt. Eve left him saying that she never loved him the way he loved her. That it was a different love, a love one would have for a brother.

The third time he felt the twines of love filling him, he shoved it down. He can’t do this again. The day he met Lute was the day they prepared for the exterminations. He saw the parts that he loved in Lilith and in Eve throughout her. Lute held herself with independence and power, but she was also shown to have a gentle hand when it came down to it. He felt drawn to her, hair white as snow and just as fierce. Loving her came as easily as breathing, but so did the fear. She would leave too. So this time he waited. The day she came to him with words on her beautiful lips that he had never heard another speak to him, she promised to stay. He felt the thorn of fear that had pierced his heart, loosen just a bit. He decided to take a chance and let her in.

This time the pain that came with love was not due to the one those affections were for, this time it came from an outer being. Sera made a new rule, let a demon go and you betray heaven. You die as a repercussion. He felt pain in his heart as he learned that others can hurt you in a way that only love can, even if you don’t love them. The threat to Lute’s life, for the life of the other exorcists, cut him just as deep. At least Emily was kind, her gentle hands healing the cuts that covered his body. Her child-like innocence reminded him of his children, of being a dad. He felt that same love light up in his heart for the young seraphim.

When Lilith’s child walks into the meeting room instead of Lucifer, he feels fear. The same fear he had long forgotten gripped his heart. The instinctual feeling of his hand twitching with the urge to reach for his throat. He forced it down, pulling up that familiar mask he hides behind. Charlie was just as stubborn and headstrong as Lilith was. When he learned that she wanted to redeem sinners he felt worry creep into his actions. This was bad. She would be crushed by the heavens before she could even get a single word out. Adam made sure that she would do no such thing.

Even if she was Lilith’s child, she was also the child of Lucifer. An angel that was once kind to him, despite what Lilith did he could still remember those eyes that looked at him with worry. He had to make sure that Lucifer’s child did not fall to the same fate as him. No matter what.

He failed. Charlie was in heaven. She had called for a meeting with the very person he wanted to protect her from. How could Lucifer allow this? He knows what heaven was like. Lute reached out for his hand, and her warmth spread through him, comforting him enough to breathe. That breath soon left him as he made eye contact with Sera, she nodded toward Vaggie. he didn’t want to do this, it was hers to share not his, but he remembered what would come if he didn’t do what was ‘required’. The rest of the meeting went by in a blur. The next thing he knew was words falling from his lips without his prompting. A grey mist surrounded Sera’s hand as he tasted rain on his tongue. “You better save the date cuz we're coming to your hotel first.” He knows that it has to be done. The repercussions will be too much.

As the memories faded he could feel his consciousness do the same. The ground underneath him disappeared, pain seeping away from his bones. It was peaceful at first, but then he opened his eyes one more time. Lute’s face came into view again, her snowy hair tainted with golden blood and dirt. He felt the searing heat from her hand gripping his body, the only thing he could feel. The pain that influenced the twitches and curves of her face, even so he felt relief.

“You stayed.” He forced out. His voice was distant, almost like he did not speak those words. His eyes analyzed as Lute’s expression fell, tears creeping into the crevices of her eyes.

“I always will.” Her voice came out soft and sure. The familiar vibrations of her voice caressed his ears. He felt his emotions settle in his chest for the first time in thousands of years. No fear. No worry.. A calmness covered him like a blanket, warming the edges of his mind.

His breath came out stuttering and short. Long pauses before he could feel the relief of air filling his lungs again. The want to say something more filled him, but his strength dissipated. Words unsaid, but still heard by Lute. She always knew the words he couldn’t force out of his chest and in this moment she listened. Speaking those words back with her eyes and the heart beating within her chest. The very same words his heart spoke. With each thump of his heart, each stuttering breath he conveyed the one thing he wanted her to hear from him. The one thing they spoke to each other in whispered words and gentle actions.

'I love you. '

Note: did you like it??? I'm new to writing so if you have any tips or things that could help please let me know! But don't be mean...

[yeahwhatdidisay]

The Body Series Book 1: Ch 12 'Strength'

18+ please!! minors DNI (For other chapters) [Prev. Chapter] [Next Chapter] [First Chapter] [Ao3 link]

Summary: Your current state leaves you feeling helpless! Why had you been so careless? What was this entity inside you? Why was this happening?

Khonshu could only explain so much and didn't help to ease your worrying...thank god for Jake.

Pairing: Steven Grant x F Reader, Marc Spector x F Reader, Jake Lockely

Warnings: Angst, descriptions of pain/being unable to move. A/N: (Please let me know if I forgot to add you to the taglist.) This story has taken me in a direction I never anticipated! I hope you all enjoy the direction it's taking and thank you again for all those who stop by to read my little story!

Enjoy!

The hushed but familiar sounds of the world just outside your window had been seeping into the flat since you’d woken up early the next morning. The muffled calls of the traffic coupled with the sounds of people slowly filling the streets on their way to work would usually help to calm you, but you were in no way close to feeling calm.

The sun had yet to fully rise, leaving a blanket of soft blue to barely light the room around you.  

You loved this time of day.  

Waking up next to your sleeping boyfriends handsome faces just before the responsibilities of the day took over was something you cherished as often as it happened.  

Today, though, today you found yourself alone. Greeted by the pains and aches that lingered in your still injured body.

You had managed to shift yourself so you were facing Steven and Marc’s side of the bed.  Their absence was heavier today than it had ever been.  You found yourself imagining them turning to look at you.  Steven peeping out of one eye and pretending to still be sleeping  while the smile on his face grew before you would lean in to ‘wake’ him with kisses all over his face.  Marc, just opening his eyes and turning to stare at you before you would whisper a loving ‘hi’ that he would reciprocate before taking your hand to kiss the back of it.

The tears began to fill your own eyes as you continued to imagine them at this time of the morning.  

You missed them.  You wanted to hold them, kiss them, tell them you loved them more than anything.  

You just wanted them.

Slowly you tried to move your hand to rest it over their empty spot but was stopped by the handcuffs still coldly wrapped around your wrist.

A deep hard breath left your body as the realization of their existence added to their weight on your body.  

You found yourself pulling and pawing, trying to move this way and that in an effort to get them off even though you knew you couldn’t. Your lack of strength making it far too difficult to even lift your arms let alone get close to getting them off.  Leaving a shot of pain after each attempt.

Quickly you decided to stop moving altogether. Instead you found yourself falling into a self loathing you hadn’t felt in a long time, your temper flaring up within you.

You wanted to yell out from the aggravation.  

Why were you so careless?!

You should have left as soon as those first mummies attacked!  Why did you keep going?  Why did you let your curiosity get the better of you?  You should have just turned into your fog form and made your way back over…wait!

Your fog form!  

With all that had been happening you forgot about your secondary ability! You would be able to move freely through the flat using your fog form!

A taunting laugh came from deep within at how stupid you had been to forget something that had become second nature to you.

You took in a deep breath and while you exhaled your body began to change.  Dematerializing into the wisp of fog like you had done so many times before, starting from the top of your head and working your way down.

The transformation was slower than it usually was.  Taking an extra few seconds to fully happen, which wasn’t too uncommon. Especially if you were feeling weak.

All seemed normal until you tried to actually move as the fog.

That’s when the searing pain, worse than what you felt before, coursed through your body in an almost shockwave, through every appendage and joint.  

It felt as if every nerve was being pierced by spikes causing so much pain that you instantly rematerialized.  Falling hard back onto the bed.

You let out loud and pained whines.  Gasping for air as you struggled to find your breath, more tears collecting and falling back down the side of your head.

“Wh…what the hell is wrong with me?!” you managed to almost growl out once your breath had caught up with you.  

“At least your attitude is still intact.” Khonshu teased, appearing in the corner of the room. “How are you feeling, Little Bug?”

“Like I’ve been broken and glued back together!”

Khonshu let out a hushed chuckle as he watched you continue to catch your breath.

“Where have you been?  Where’s Thoth?”

“Thoth has been taken with another task.  He sent me to check on you.”

“What happened?  Why am I like this?  Why can’t I move and why are my abilities not working?”

“So many questions…the short answer, you were cursed.”

“Cursed? What!? How?”

“Don’t strain yourself.  Your healing ability isn’t working properly, remember?  You would not want to cause something that cannot be reversed.”

Khonshu extended his hand, resting it over your forehead.  A heat began to resonate from it and although your body was still weak and in pain, you felt instant relief.

“Oh my gods…thank you…” you gasped out.

“It is the least I can do considering,” Khonshu said, his voice softer than you were used to.  “It would be wise for you to let your body rest.”

“What’s going on?!  Why can’t I fully use my abilities?  What curse are you talking about and why hasn’t Thoth come to check on me?!” You demanded, mostly ignoring his warning to rest.

Khonshu let out an annoyed sigh.  Even though this was something you were used to hearing from him you couldn’t help but think that the annoyance wasn’t meant for you. 

“What happened in the shrine?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself enough so you could recount the events that took place.

“The…shrine…the shrine had thousands of canopic jars in it.  All containing only the hearts of people.  I was attacked by hundreds of mummified guards and was able to lock myself in the main chamber but before I could find a way to escape I was…I don’t know what happened!  All I know is I was hit by a strong gust of…dust, sand?  I don’t know but my body was overtaken by a searing pain…something I’d never felt before…”

Khonshu watched as you spoke, his head bobbing from side to side, looking more bird-like than you’d ever seen him before.

“Where did the dust come from?  Did you see anything?  Say anything?”

“There were murals of executions, carnage…mayhem all around the room.  Their remains were offered to a serpent, a serpent who dominated the images.  There was a massive statue of the serpent, coiling itself around the sun and carvings…carvings that read ‘hail, hail to the mighty… Apoph…”

“Shhh…”  

Khonshu interrupted you before you could finish saying the name of the god the shrine had been dedicated to.

“It’s worse than we could have imagined…don’t repeat his name…you cannot speak his name. We suspected you brought with you a curse but hoped…it would seem the situation has become more dire than we had originally thought.  Is there anything else?”

The breath hitched within your chest and a shiver resonated through the rest of your body.  Your fear rose within you before you closed your eyes and swallowed it back down.

“I’ve been blacking out. There’s something else within me and it can take hold.  While it did I was sent to…I don’t know, somewhere that looked like the field of reeds but it wasn’t…it was…it made me hurt Jake!  I don’t know when it’ll take hold again or if I can even stop it…am I still cursed?”

Khonshu shook his head before stopping then shrugging his shoulders.

“It may appear so…for now though, you need to focus on getting better.  My influence should help to kickstart your healing ability, but Thoth may wish to keep you from using your other abilities for the time being.”

“You mean my fog form?  Well I already can’t use that so he’s a little late to the party.”

“It would seem so…get your rest, Little Bug.  I will return when I am able.  For now, just rest.”

A door closing in the distance followed by heavy footsteps interrupted your conversation.

“It seems your knight has returned.  Rest up.”

“Wait Khonshu, what…”

Khonshu was gone before you could finish your sentence just as Jake walked into the flat.

Jake walked in, holding a large brown bag but froze before fully closing the door behind him.  Instead pausing to watch you, a suspicious look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you whispered.

“¿Eres tú?” He finally asked.

“Yeah…it’s me.  Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jake let out a sigh of relief before closing the door and taking off his flat cap. 

“You’re out of the handcuffs.” he said, taking off his coat after placing the bag on the kitchen counter.

You raised up your hands and saw that he was right.  You were no longer cuffed and the marks around your wrists were looking better as well.

“I take it you’re feeling better?  You raised your arms without much shaking.”

Whatever Khonshu had done earlier was already starting to heal you.  Although you still felt the aches in your body and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to fully move around on your own just yet.

“Oh...” you replied, resting your arms back down, “Where did you go?  I thought I saw you walk in with something.”

“Al mercado.  I needed to pick up some things…how about you?  How long have you been awake and how long were you out of the cuffs?”

“Um…I guess a little over an hour.  I don’t know when I got the cuffs off.  I tried to turn into the fog…they must have fallen off then.”

“You’re fog, huh, were you able to change?”

“Only for a minute or so…I tried moving but the pain was more than I’d anticipated.  Rematerialized and fell back onto the bed.”

“Sounds like a productive morning.” He said, with a laugh.

“Careful, Jake.  Your Marc is showing…”

The mention of Marc’s name left an awkward air between the two of you.  You immediately regretted it and hoped that Jake wasn’t feeling the same way you were.  

Luckily you weren’t able to see Jake’s smile fall, or you would have felt worse.

“Yeah, um…I’m going to get started on the food.  Is there anything you need before I do?”

“A body that works?”

Jake let out a soft, gravelly laugh.

“Settle for a different position?” he asked.

“I’d love to be able to sit.”

Jake turned and began to collect any pillow he could from the flat.  Stacking them at the head of the bed before moving down to where you were laying.

“Let’s see if we can get you sitting.  Let me know if this is too much for you.” he said, bending down to wrap his arms around your torso, just below your arms.

He was sure to take his time, slowly bringing you in close.  So close his cheek was now right beside yours.  

His skin was rough with the beginnings of a beard and his body was warm.  You found yourself leaning into his hold and wrapping your arms around his neck as best you could.

Your body ached from the movement but he was sure to be as gentle as he could to keep the pain at a minimum.  

He maneuvered you up onto the mountain of cushions and pillows so you were resting in a more seated position.  Letting you down as gently as possible.

“How’s that?” he whispered, now realizing how close he was to you and how tightly you held onto him.

You didn’t respond at first, instead letting out a contented sigh.

His grasp on you tightened slightly as you fell deeper into his hold on you.  

“Remember when you would have hated being this close to me?” Jake said, now the one to regret something he’d said.

He cleared his throat trying to hide it.

“No…” you whispered, your voice noticeably hushed by choice rather than ability.

Jake let out a soft sigh, no longer worrying about his remark.

He loosened his hold around your waist.

You loosened your hold on him and slowly let yourself sink into the new position.  

Jake pulled away, sitting beside you on the bed, staring down at you with his usual stern expression.  Although it was noticeably softer than usual.

“Es mejor?” he finally asked.

You nodded, letting a small smile form across your face.

Jake responded with his own crooked smile before closing his eyes and shaking his head.  Looking away and bringing his hand up to his chin.

“You can’t do that, Preciosa.”

“Do what?” you asked.

“Smile at me like that.  Look at me like you…just…”

He let his words trail off. 

You stared up at him, hoping for more of an explanation but you knew what he meant and you knew it was unfair to so many people you cared about.  But you couldn’t help it…he was Jake and although your feelings for him were complicated they were there.  

“Jake…”

“I um…I better get started on the food.”  

Jake stood up and walked into the kitchen without another word.  

He began to take out your largest pot, filling it with water and setting it on the stove to heat up before taking what he needed out of your cupboards and from the bag he’d brought in.

The next 30 minutes or so were spent chopping up vegetables, prepping the meat, and measuring spices by eye before adding them to the now boiling pot. 

You watched in silence taking in each ounce of movement, especially noticing that while Jake worked you could hear him humming to himself.  Singing the tune to a song you couldn’t quite identify.

You could tell that Jake, most likely, had a beautiful singing voice.

This surprised you, considering Steven could only be described as an okay singer and Marc couldn’t hold a tune to save his life.

You watched him continue to work on the food he was making.  Taking in every movement, every move of his messy hair as it fell around his face.  The way he clenched his jaw while he focused on what he was doing.  Every furrow of his brow when something needed extra attention or focus.

Everything about him, you took in.

“I can feel you staring at me, Preciosa.” He finally called out to you as he placed the lid on the pot  and began to clean up.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook…or sing.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” He laughed, walking over to the bed and taking a seat beside you. 

“What are you making?”

“Sopa de Pollo.”

“Chicken soup?  I think I might be suffering from something a little more than a cold.” You laughed.

“Maybe…but it helps me feel better when I’m not my best…so I made it for you.”

You could feel a blush begin to form on your face.  You looked down at your hands as they fiddled with the blanket.

“Jake…”

“I got your message.” He interrupted, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the post-it you’d left for him before going to Cairo. 

The paper was bent slightly with curled in edges, as if it had been in Jake's pocket since you’d left it for him.  Even though the paper had already started to look weathered, the message was still as clear as it was when you’d written it.

‘I’m sorry’

You looked up at Jake who stared down at the little message in his hand.  The sadness shining through on his stern face.

“Khonshu told me why you have to be kept a secret.” “He did?” Jake said, sounding less like a question than he intended.

“I didn’t realize what could have happened if I told anyone about you.  You know…you could have told me?”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me.  I felt like you would have thought I was making it up to keep you quiet.  Even after you started…after your feelings changed, I still worried that you thought I would say anything to trap you.”

You reached out resting your hand on top of his.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that.  I’m sorry for a lot of the things I did to you.”

Jake moved his hand so he was now holding yours and gave it a tight squeeze.

“In your defense, I deserved most of it.” he said with a chuckle.

“I don’t think you deserved half of what I put you through, or half of what I said to you.”

Jake said nothing for a moment, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand against his better judgment.

“Apology accepted.” he said, getting up and letting go of your hand to go and give the soup a stir.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed slowly.

Your strength started to come back bit by bit and before you knew it you were finally able to move somewhat without so much pain coursing through your body.

Walking still proved to be a bigger task than it should have been, but knowing Jake was there to let you lean on him made it less aggravating. 

Living with Jake was something you could only describe as nice.  Even with his occasional sour attitude and his want to keep to himself he still went out of his way to make sure you were taken care of.  Make sure you were happy with him.

And you were. 

Even though you still missed Marc and Steven immensely you would be lying if the thought of a life would Jake didn’t make you feel light.   

This night was spent with another amazing dinner prepared by him. Jake would always sing or hum while he cooked and this quickly became one of your favorite things about him.

Something that he himself became more comfortable with doing in front of you.  Sometimes even belting out and dancing around where you sat.

Which is how you learned he was also a great dancer.

Definitely something you would have never thought he would have done before, but you were beyond grateful he felt comfortable enough doing it now.

The longer you spent together the more things you learned about one another.  

You learned each other’s favorite and least favorite things, like movies and food.  You learned how much he liked listening to sports on the radio but didn’t much like sitting and watching unless he was there live.

He learned how much you preferred plays to movies but still enjoyed both.

You both learned how an actual argument would go between you two and how you both would struggle to apologize before blurting it out almost at the same time.

Jake learned how hard it was for you to rely so much on him to do a lot of things and he also learned how much he enjoyed your love language…touch. 

You loved how he would get annoyed at the drop of a hat but immediately soften when you would smile at him a certain way.  And you loved figuring out that his love language was quality time and acts of service.

The two of you were comfortable together.  So comfortable that you insisted he sleep in the bed beside you.  

So comfortable that Jake never contested, especially knowing that as soon as you fell asleep you’d be snuggling up beside him…something that became his favorite thing about you. 

You hadn’t blacked out since the first initial night.  A concern that lingered in your minds, but tonight you were both happy to try and forget that something like that had even happened. 

The hours thankfully just seemed to linger on.  The two of you were sitting in your bed after another wonderful dinner, talking and enjoying each other's company well into the night.  

You, now lying beside him as he sat, resting his arms on his stomach.

The conversation was the same as it had been.  Mainly Jake complaining about how boring Steven’s job was and how hard it was for him to ‘be nice’ being surrounded by idiots.  Both co-workers and guests.

Feigning sickness was starting to lose its luster as an actual excuse to his co-workers for the change in attitude and demeanor but they were so ‘focused on their own bullshit’ that no one questioned it further.

You were watching intently as he continued to complain about ‘today’s idiot’.  Taking in all his movements and the inflection in his voice when he would say certain words like you had started to do often. A smile on your face as he would move his hands around in fron of him and switch back and forth between English and Spanish.   The Spanish being mostly cuss words on this particular day.

This made your mind wander back to your boyfriends.  How this movement reminded you of Marc, or how he spoke about Donna reminded you of Steven.  How they were all so similar and yet so completely different.

Different minds in the same body.  All three of them the people you care immensely for. 

A life without any of them was something that brought a twinge of sadness to your mind and heart. 

It wasn’t until the lull in the conversation that he finally noticed how you were watching him.  The contented smile on your face leaving a light shade of pink on his.

“I’m lucky you can’t hurt me with that deep stare of yours.  I’m sure you’d carve a hole into my skin.”

“Does it hurt?”  you whispered.

“Does what hurt? The hole in my skin you’re making?” 

“No…” you laughed, “Does it hurt to keep them hidden?”

Jake’s smile faded.  

“Sometimes it’s hard…they’re strong…but it doesn’t hurt.”

“How do you keep yourself hidden from them?”

He shrugged.

“It’s just something I’ve always done.  I’ve existed as long as Steven has but I guess I wasn’t needed.  Not till Marc got older.”

“Were you there when Steven and I met?”

Jake took a deep breath and slid down the bed so he was now laying beside you on his back. 

“Yeah…I was there.”

“What did you think of me?”

He turned to face you but said nothing, angling his body so he was now resting on his side like you were.

“I thought you would be trouble.  I remember thinking we should stay clear of you.  Didn’t want to complicate our already complicated lives.  I was relieved when Steven forgot to ask you for your number.”

“Really?”

His words might have hurt you in the past, but the way he looked at you now made it easy to overlook any negative feelings.

“Yeah…but I was also relieved when we saw you in the museum again.    The way you moved, the way you went from display to display, stopping every now and then to write in your notebook.  The way you took in all the information from the plaques, your fingers lightly trailing over the words so you wouldn’t miss a single one. You were beautiful…you were just… so precious.”

You found yourself reaching out to him.  Taking his hand and giving it a tight squeeze while you held it close to your chest.

Jake just let you.  Staring at you with that intense glare of his own.

“So now you know how I felt…how about you?” He asked, his gravelly voice becoming more so because of his hushed tone.  “How did you feel when you first saw me?”

“I was scared.” You admitted a soft smile on your lips. “You were…you were everything Marc and Steven weren’t.  You were just so…rough.  Everything about you was rough…and I didn’t want to have anything to do with you.”

“Brutal, Preciosa.” Jake laughed.

“Just being honest.”

“And now?” he whispered.

“Now?  Now I just want you near me.”

Jake stopped smiling as you started to inch closer to him.  You reached for his arm so you could rest your head on it and brought your body close to his.  All while never letting go of his hand. 

You lifted your head, intending to go in for a kiss but was stopped by Jake. Who let go of your hand and placed it on your cheek, holding you in a way that was tender but he was able to stop you from pushing further. 

“This is as far as we go, Preciosa.” He whispered. “I don’t want you to regret me in the morning.”

Your heart broke slightly, but you knew he was right.  Instead you moved yourself so you were resting your head against his chest, just below his chin.  Holding him in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Jake…I wish we could be more than just…this.”

“No you don’t…not if it means hurting them.”

Jake fell into your hold, taking you in his as well. 

“I’m sorry…” you repeated. 

“No lo sientas…now, get some sleep.  I’ll see you in the morning. 

~~~~~~~

Tag List: @delicatespiritualitysciencebat, @ahookedheroespureheart

[tclkrefined]

. . . / / TASK 001 interrogation : otto estrada

@theopulenthq

hello, can you please tell me your name, country, && what role you provide your court? 

otto is getting comfortable on the couch when the question comes; the eagerness feels very telling, and he pauses, assesses the person in front of him closely. they hold their nerves well, but he can see the glint of sweat on their brow. "moving quick. must be quite the effort, getting all of these... interviews to stay on schedule," he hums. "otto estrada. ethiopia. i am the military commander."

and who do you believe to be your closest allies, either nations or individuals? do you trust your allies?

so this is what they're doing, mapping out allies and enemies? it seems quite the blunt way to do it -- but, isolating and separating prisoners has always been the most efficient way to interrogate, so they are bound to find some useful information on the way. it makes him sigh. "i do trust my allies, but you must understand, these are matters i am keeping close to my heart," he smiles sweetly, tapping his chest twice. he takes mental note of the court of ethiopia and hopes their weakest links will know to say less rather than more. "you can write down on your foolish notes: i trust my kingdom. i trust my people. i'll kill and die for them. that is all the answer i am willing to give."

ah, yes, i see... how about your enemies, then. who do you not align yourself with, and why?

"there are several customs and cultures i do not align myself with," he points. "does not mean i make enemies out of differences." when the interviewer looks at him expectantly, he waves a hand in the air, signaling for the next question.

interesting. do you have a personal vendetta against any of the courts, or even individuals, here?

there's a humorous purse of his lips on his face, as he tries to control the grin that threatens to show on his lips. it's good to know that the mughal empire has a terrible interrogation program, if this script is anything to go by. "i have a personal vendetta against the curtains in my chambers. far too thin, nearly useless, they did not block out the sun this morning. i had a rather busy night and was hoping for more time in bed with my husband -- you understand." he lets his grin shine then. 

what are your thoughts on the mysterious deaths in so many royal families?

he hums a deep, low sound in his throat. where he was sprawled back on the couch before, arms wide over the headrest, now he leans forward. his legs parted, his elbows resting over knees. "i think it could be a red herring. i think it aims to destabilize otherwise stable kingdoms. and i think what i know about it would make these walls gasp, should they have ears," he bluffs, throwing the bait to see if he catches anything. let the mughal empire keep their eyes on him, and not the rest of his men. "but i am not a man of many words."

how do you feel about the system of monarchy as a whole?

his fingers intertwine loosely, his boots tip back and forth on the ground, lifting and lowering his knees. he feels antsy with boredom, knowing this is a ruse to waste time more than anything. "i do not think it works well for certain countries, if some of the drama from last night was any indicaiton." he chortles. "my ethiopia stands tall with it, that is all i must care about."

so, what would be your best theory as to what is going on, then?

his head tilts, his grin sly. "that is for me to know, and for you to guess, my friend." he does not have any pressing theories. trying to figure this out is the reason he's been trading secrets and telling lies with growing recklessness, but he leans into the lie now, in hopes it will reveal something to him. nothing good comes from spilling too much of the truth. and they all know the mughal empire won't be responsible for a proper investigation.

thank you for your time. is there anything else you'd like to add, anything else that would be useful to the investigation?

his tongue clicks, his hands spreading out. "so soon? already?" he had prepared himself for hours of this, some light torture and indelicate pressing, at the very least. it's almost disappointing to waste a few minutes on some limp questions with an interrogator that scribbles down his answer with the pinched face of a mouse. he supposes he should count his blessings, for going back to his room with all of his fingernails. "no more comment -- did you make sure to write down about my curtains?" he smiles again. "then farewell, friend." he claps them hard enough on the shoulder to make them stumble, before he leaves.

[airxn]

If you could give a single piece of advice to new people in the roleplay community, what would it be?

I did write a guide a few years back that has really resonated with people, so most of my advice for new folks is there!

I'm a bit late to replying to this anon, since you've been going around in some of my circles, and a lot of folks said some really good stuff! So if I were to add anything...

The Tumblr RPC at the end of the day is social media. Expanding the first point of my guide, starting roleplay on tumblr is NOT like joining a forum or joining a designated discord server.

More likely than not, forums and servers will welcome new folks– or at least acknowledge your presence so you can feel more at ease when finding your footing in the community. While tumblr you have to put in a lot effort to make people care about your character and your writing. Especially if you're writing an oc / original character.

How I suggest doing so is written in depth in the post I linked, but what it boils down to is making your presence known by reaching out to people, writing drabbles / headcanons if there's a lack of threads, and being active the best you can when you're just starting out. Because basically you'll curating a social media platform, much like you.tube, insta.gram, tw.itter, etc, but curating in favor of rp. Which sounds daunting, but isn't too bad once you find your people here.

If there's anything I can clarify more on this, or my linked post, I'd be happy to answer!

[cha-ra-nui]

Part 2: Anime and Other Media

This is the story section of my 2023 retrospective. Any story telling media goes. Anime, live action movies, cartoons, it's all game. The other parts of the retrospective are linked below.

Playlist | Prefix | Part 1: Music | Part 2: Anime and Other Media | Awards Section

My Anime burnout is still holding on, but actually it’s depression so yeah. My life sucks right now and I can’t even enjoy the media that used to bring me joy. It’s rare for something to hold my attention nowadays, because I feel like half a person.

But I tried, and there were some things I can list at least.

Jujutsu Kaisen aired its second season, which was great. I mentioned the openings earlier in the music segment, but the season also adapted the manga’s two best arcs, so that was obviously fun. What wasn’t fun was a certain manga chapter which really felt like the author was just fucking with us. Even if you hate your own characters, at least respect them enough to not explicitly contradict their previous characterization and entire point of their arc to make them look worse in a chapter where you kill them off screen. It’s been a while since I felt this betrayed by a story I previously enjoyed a lot. Which was all the more funny because Bungou Stray Dogs did some similar fucking around nearly at the same time, and that was resolved in a much, much less infuriating way. And yes, the new season of the anime was just as good as all the previous ones. Bones puts way too much effort into making this show look pretty. Then we had Jigokuraku, which is another point for the new generation of Weekly Shounen Jump. They’ve collected a strong line-up in recent years. Spy X Family is also great, and Anya is best girl, obviously. Finally, there was the second season of Link Click, which we expected at least a year earlier. But the wait was worth it. The creators said it was pushed back so they could deliver the best possible version of the season, and damn did they ever do that. It’s a departure from season one in many ways, but the ongoing storyline was no less compelling than the episodic ones in season one, and I can’t wait for season three. The show also looks unreasonably great, especially its opening, which is a work of art. The insert songs are great as well, “Until It Dies” especially.

Speaking of insert songs though, I watched Helluva Boss in 2023, and I loved it. It’s certainly not a perfect show, but what it nails, it really nails. Season two is much more of a mixed bag than season one, but “Oops” and “Mammon’s Magnificent Musical” did a lot to redeem it. It’s certainly been a while since I had brainrot as bad as the one these two episodes gave me. Fizz and Asmodeus are the best things about this season and it’s not even close. It doesn't hurt that they’re great together, and also that anytime Fizz gets a song it’s also great.

I didn’t care much for the music in this show before. Sure, there were some nice tracks, but none I went back to afterwards, and they were never the best moment of the episode, with maybe the exception of “House of Asmodeus”, but well, that’s also Fizz and Asmodeus, so I rest my case. But “Look At This” was the first time a song in this show made me laugh. It’s absurd, it’s hilarious, it suits the character and the scene in the show where it happens, it switches genre like five times, and it’s utter nonsense. It’s great. So when Fizz got more songs in the next episode I was on board immediately. “Crooked” is nice and wholesome, and it comes at a moment in the episode where that was desperately needed. But “2 Minutes Notice”. Man. This song took over my life for a while. Within the context of the episode it’s a great cathartic moment, but even without that it still slaps. I wish they’d release the song properly, but even as a rip from an episode, sound effects and all, it’s still one of my most played songs of 2023.

And since the playlist is only music, I guess I have to add “Just Look My Way” to it as well. It’s the best they’ve written this character and ship all season, and if that’s any indication for the quality of episodes to come I’m optimistic.

In other news I listened to the Sandman audiobooks and they’re great. I never read comics but I might have to make an exception for Neil Gaiman, who could’ve guessed. I’m anxiously awaiting the release of the fourth and final part of the audiobooks too, I have a feeling about how this story is going to end, and I really hope that I’m wrong about it, I will cry otherwise.

Speaking of which, Good Omens Season 2 sure happened too. I laughed, I cried, I had the usual brainrot phase, I can’t wait for season three.

Finally, I want to mention a few movies I watched in cinema this year. Puss In Boots was great, and I enjoyed the second Spiderverse movie more than the first because it felt surer of who its target audience was.

Barbie was fun but ultimately a too compromised vision to be truly great. A visual masterpiece that isn’t allowed to be as revolutionary or even just as feminist as it wants to be because it can’t make Martell look too bad, who’s going to buy their products if it does?

Oppenheimer meanwhile is that great. I left the cinema and immediately wanted to watch it again. The sequence leading up to the trinity test is a masterclass of building tension, and it’s hard to believe that this movie is three hours of men sitting in rooms talking, because it’s such an engaging watch. Absolutely brilliant work, and I can’t wait to see it get snubbed at the Oscars because that is what happens when the public likes a movie.

[divinemissem13]

Pressure Points

Flufftober, day 17: Massage (reddit)/ Encouraging s.o. to achieve goal (tumblr) Fandom: Star Trek VOY, TNG Ship: Beverly Crusher/ Kathryn Janeway AO3 link

These two deserve some fluff after what I put them through yesterday. Enjoy!

--- Beverly was curled up on the couch in her quarters, reviewing the data on the plants that the away team had brought back from the day’s mission when Kathryn let herself in. Without so much as a hello, the captain kicked off her boots and flopped herself down at the other end of the couch, swinging her legs up so that they landed in Beverly’s lap.

“Long day?” Beverly asked wryly. 

Kathryn’s only response was to wiggle her toes in Beverly’s lap and make an indistinct sound somewhere between a whine and a grunt. It was clear that Kathryn was not in a talkative mood, so Beverly filled in Kathryn’s part of the conversation as she gave in and started rubbing her feet. 

“Oh, hello, Beverly. How was your day?” “Not bad, thanks for asking. A few of the plants you all brought up have some interesting potential.” “That’s wonderful news. How did I get so lucky to have such a brilliant and resourceful CMO?” “Don’t forget beautiful.” “Oh yes, extremely beautiful. The most beautiful CMO in all of Starfleet.”

Kathryn made another noise that could have been a chuckle or a whimper, but she did crack one eye open to regard Beverly as she finally mumbled some actual words. “Sorry. I might be –” she paused to suck air in through her teeth as Beverly began massaging in earnest, “getting too old for this,” she concluded, clearly exhausted from the effort of putting together a coherent sentence. 

Beverly wondered if this might be a moment of clarity or if Kathryn was just whining for the sake of whining. She hoped it was the former - they had, after all, been having that argument for months - but knew it was more likely the latter so she didn’t press the issue. Not when Kathryn was too exhausted to fight back. 

“Oh God you’re good at that,” Kathryn moaned as Beverly dug into a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Good to know all those years of medical training weren’t wasted,” Beverly smirked. “Switch,” she added, dropping one of Kathryn’s feet and picking up the other. She worked diligently at the taut muscles as Kathryn’s eyes began to drift closed and her head sunk lower on the arm of the couch.

When Beverly was sure Kathryn had fallen asleep, she carefully set the foot in her lap next to its mate and began stretching out her own hands so they didn’t cramp. It wasn’t that she minded giving Kathryn near-constant foot rubs these days – after so many years out here, it was still one of the few comforts that Kathryn would allow herself, and Beverly was more than happy to oblige. But it was very precise work and her hands weren’t as nimble as they used to be.

“You ok?” Kathryn asked sleepily.

“Mmm,” Beverly hummed in response. “I guess I’m just getting old too ,” she couldn’t help but add extra emphasis on the last word. Kathryn didn’t answer and, emboldened by her lack of argument, Beverly pressed a little further. “You know, captains really shouldn’t be leading away missions anyway. That’s what first officers are for.”

“Chakotay is even older than I am!” Kathryn huffed.

“So send Harry. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to take on a little more responsibility. And the experience would be good for him…” Beverly suggested, expertly toeing the line between supporting her commanding officer and encouraging her partner to let go of the reins a bit. 

Kathryn grunted noncommittally but she did sit up and hook her feet over Beverly’s legs, using them to pull her closer until she could reach her hands. Her brow furrowed in thought as she automatically began massaging the bothersome joint between Beverly’s thumb and forefinger. “I don’t see you out there training your replacement,” Kathryn pointed out, only somewhat petulantly. 

“I have the EMH,” Beverly shrugged and gently pressed her forehead to Kathryn’s, instantly smoothing the lines of consternation that had settled there. “Besides, my job is rarely as physically demanding as yours,” she pointed out, “and I don’t want you working yourself into an early grave.”

Kathryn’s hands stilled at that, and she pulled back just enough to look Beverly in the eyes. “Fine,” she said softly, “I’ll let Harry and some of the others lead some away missions. Sometimes. ”

“Thank you,” Beverly smiled and nuzzled her nose against Kathryn’s. “I just want to keep you around, you know.”

Kathryn hummed her acceptance as Beverly pressed a soft kiss to her lipse. “Likewise,” she murmured and leaned back against the arm of the couch again,  lol time pulling Beverly with her. 

Kathryn’s arm wrapped around Beverly as her fingers idly twisted through her red hair, now faded almost to blond and speckled with gray. Beverly’s head rested on Kathryn’s shoulder and their legs tangled together while she resumed reading the padd that had briefly been discarded between the couch cushions. 

After a moment or two, Kathryn’s voice pierced the contented silence. “If I don’t go on as many away missions, do I still get those magic foot rubs?” she pouted. 

Beverly chuckled softly and tilted her head upward to brush a kiss on Kathryn’s jaw. “I think that can probably be arranged,” she teased. 

Kathryn hummed her approval, softly kissed Beverly’s temple, and burrowed her face into the top of her head. 

Beverly felt Kathryn’s breathing steady out under her head as she drifted off again and she smiled. She knew that they would both likely regret staying in these positions, scrunched against the arm of the couch for too long, but at the moment she didn’t really care. The cramp already forming in her neck would be a good excuse for more in-depth massages later anyway.

[alarrytale]

Dear Marte, I kinda need to defend Louis when it comes to his live shows. I don´t know how often do you attend concerts but as a person who always loved way too many bands and going to their shows is basically my hobby and how I spice up my life, I don´t expect that Louis will try to make his every show a stand-up comedy just like H does because that´s what normal musicians/bands do - they go to stage, play 3 songs, say some words to warmup the crowd and then they play more songs.

This year I saw Lizzo (I´m a huge fan of hers no matter if she´s linked to H or the drama what´s happening to her now) and she also had this "comedy" sequence and I just found it really unnecessary and kinda felt like she´s doing it because she saw it at H´s shows. And same with Niall, who I saw last month at festival, fans brought signs and he read some and I was like "why is everyone copying H and do this at their shows too?". Having said that I went to too many shows mostly by indie/alternative rock bands so far and I never had this comedy experience because nobody do it because nobody need to do it. At so yes, when we compare those shows to H´s, yes they are boring and same every other show and the difference is mostly how lound and engaged is the crowd and the mood of the singer/frontman of the band.

I would also like to add that it´s the only 2nd solo tour for him and IMO it´s too soon for him to be really really comfortable with his stage presentance. Musicians always evolve when they get more and more experience every tour and become comfortable and sure with their performance. So I would give Louis more time to evolve.

I´m gonna see him twice next month and I´m excited because I´m just coming to see him and hear his songs live. And I really don´t expect anything else that good sound, his voice and the crowd being nice. Any maybe some nice outfit but don´t know when yesterday was like the peak with his cutie pink rabbit hahaha

Hi, anon!

Sorry, i wasn't trying to take anything away from you all who enjoy his shows. That wasn't my intention. I love that you enjoy them! Get excited! That's the goal. I think i would be too if i went to one. I'm not sure if i'd feel the same excitement if i went to several. But as someone who follows them from home, the shine has worn off a bit.

I've been to my fair share of concerts. My take away is that if the music is good enough, and their general stage presence and emotional delivery is there, you don’t need the artist to do other forms of entertainment. The music is enough. But i have to say i do love a bit of banter beween band mates, heckling from the audience and funny fan interactions. I love an anecdote or artists who introduce their songs by talking about how they were written or what inspired them to write it. But don't repeat it word after word every single show. That's boring. Make every show special. Spice it up. I can do without the gender reveals, guitar smashing, stage drinking or kissing fans.

I think the best thing about Louis' shows are the fan projects or initiatives. Rainbow projects, rainbow flags and the spontaneous conga lines in the pit. So much of it got nothing to do with Louis, but all to do with the common effort the louies make to create a safe and happy atmosphere. I'm pretty sure he could stand on stage wearing a garbage bag singing bah bah black sheep(s), and fandom would make the show and fan experience worth the while for us fans either way. It sometimes feels more like a big louie party, where louis is the dj.

I agree that we need to let him have time to grow, but considering he was also touring with 1d, he's a touring veteran. He's gotten bolder and more confident, but it's slow going and i guess i'm impatient for him to give us something more.