#i have the most of these in my drafts but all of them have been made in the past like 2 weeks 🫣

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Where I live it's mostly women who push for peaceful resolution of conflict and discontinuation of the draft.

Considering the sheer ignorance to reality you've shown in multiple discussions, I doubt that.

Unless you're saying men are so stupid they voluntarily want the government to put them on the front lines. Or you're ignoring social pressures and maybe even legal punishment against men who speak up.

Men get everyone in trouble and then badmouth women for not saving the day. Classic.

Feminist pretends women have never been influential in society and assumes would never speak up about men's issues, which is totally not sexist. Classic.

As for barbieland, female-only communities are not utopian, but they are way better than male counterparts. Compare cultures of prisons for different genders, for example. So no, barbieland works good as an allegory

"I cherry picked the most controlled and limited and monitored part of any society and think it represents the whole."

Interesting argument.

Yes, I am going to use prisons as an example - male prisons are rape houses while in female prisons life is possible. Literally everyone sees this. This also goes for schools and military units and workplaces, everywhere.

Women only TV company was a hotbed of drama.

Some women can't even keep themselves from groping men in kilts. In public.

Also, I wonder if it means anything that you don't explicitly describe male rape. You just call them "rape houses".

Yes, I see a lot of female-driven communities, and they are way more humane than male ones. In a way you are literally in one of them right now

Says the person who's insisting all men and women, everywhere in the world, act the exact same. Regardless of their own cultural mores.

While claiming they're talking about "socialization".

All to denigrate men and Madonnafy women.

You're still defending a movie made to sell toys using topical issues, and someone who thought that movie was an incisive commentary on reality.

I guess my experience of both multiple schools and university, where always boys were demons while girls were normal even if not perfect, is also invalid to you.

"All prisons of women are like X, and all prisons of men are like Y."

"No, female prisons are like Y too."

How do I respond? I know! Just stop talking about prisons and change the subject!

Classic sophistry.

in barbieland, where everything was perfect for women, men were safe. they didn't suffer, they took full part in society, they just weren't the "main characters". but when Barbieland was captured by men, women were instantly in danger. they began to be held for service and objectified.

the authors conveyed the essence very well and clearly, which not everyone understood

[love-quinn]

— DEGREES OF SEPARATION

summary — they say each person is only six degrees of separation away from any other person. you’ve just dumped patrick and unbeknownst to you, he’s a lot closer to your new boyfriend than six degrees.

warnings — told mostly from patrick's pov, sex is explicitly mentioned (no smut is written), swearing, patrick being a cocky bastard, mentions of male masturbation (in both the contexts of pat and art), implied that patrick does not give head 16+

pairing — art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader (formerly), canon compliant artrick

pronouns — she/her, reader is referred to as a “girlfriend”

word count — 2.7k

note — i have truly the most amount of art donaldson fics in my drafts, i'm slowly getting through and trying to write them all. this was meant to be a silly little thing but i accidentally made it serious my bad. also lowkey reader isn't in this much, also i switch tenses like nobody's business.

Patrick has no idea what it is about you, but he’s starting to hate you a little bit. 

You were nowhere near the first girl he's dated, you weren’t even his longest relationship. Sure, he prefers not to bother himself with actual relationships, he likes the casualty of just hooking up with someone just fine. Having to be a boyfriend requires a lot of mental energy that Patrick typically reserves for tennis and chain smoking.

He didn’t mind putting in the effort when the two of you were together. You were pretty low-maintenance, he’d go up to Stanford every few months anyway, at least when he was dating you he didn’t have to sleep on the floor. He got to see his best friend, play tennis with someone competent, get some ass and all he had to do was call you once every few days. He didn’t even mind it, he liked talking to you.

Then, of course, you’d dumped him and now he was right back where he started.

He had been at your dorm, he’d spent the last few hours with you between his legs and then he’d gotten a text from Art asking if he’d wanted to hang out. Patrick wasn’t exactly going to say no, Art didn’t even really know he was seeing something. That had apparently pissed you off enough that you’d let him go without even making a comment about how you hadn’t had a turn yet. You’d messaged him an hour later telling him that you didn’t want to see him anymore and that you were keeping the half ounce he’d left in your room in his haste to leave.

It was fine. He got to regale Art with stories of the two of you, not bothering to mention that you were the same girl as six months earlier and that you had been the only girl in that time. 

He almost felt like he had to share every detail of the more intimate parts of your relationship with Art. Art wasn’t fucking anyone, at least not with the regularity that Patrick was (even when the two of you were long distance), he was probably getting some sort of a kick out of hearing about it anyway.

Now, four months later, and things have been flipped on their head.

Patrick isn’t adverse to change; if anything, he thrives in the chaos of change. If things are always changing then Patrick always has a way to have the upper hand. He doesn’t quite feel like he has the upper hand anymore.

He’s on Art’s bed, trying to roll himself a cigarette without getting too much tobacco on Art’s sheets. Art’s at practice, he doesn’t even know that Patrick is here, that he’s used the spare key attached to his keyring to get in, but he’s not going to give a shit. The window’s shaky, but Patrick’s able to shove it open. 

When Art comes in, Patrick’s shoved half the shit off his desk to make enough room to perch on it so he can stick his hand out in the air. Art doesn’t even give it a second glance. “I wouldn’t sit there.”

“I’m sure your textbooks will live,” Patrick waves him off. He picked that side because it had the least amount of dust on it.

Art dumps his stuff on the floor, shaking out his duvet from Patrick’s mess. “I didn’t get the chance to…” he struggles to hold back a smirk as he deliberately avoids looking at his friend’s face; he wants to seem as nonchalant as Patrick always does. “Disinfect it.” He settles.

Patrick hops off the desk, scrubbing the backs of his thighs. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Art looks sufficiently pleased with himself. “Okay, you can’t talk. I was in a hurry.”

Patrick was thoroughly enjoying grilling his best friend. “You have a bed right there. You couldn’t do it there?”

Art didn’t say anything. Patrick dropped his cigarette out the open window from laughing so hard. 

It takes less than a week for Patrick to realise that Art has a girlfriend and that the event back in his dorm wasn’t a one time thing. It was to be expected, Art did always have a harder time letting go than Patrick did. Patrick doesn’t even have to open his mouth before Art is shutting down the unasked question they’re both thinking; no, you cannot meet her.

It doesn’t matter that Art’s hiding you from him though, because he posts about you constantly. Patrick doesn’t use FaceBook a whole lot, and neither did Art really. But Art decides that there’s something about you that decides he needs to take photos of you.  He even considers buying a fancy digital camera but he doesn’t quite have a hundred bucks to drop on one. He settles for his phone camera, which takes blurry but glowing pictures of you in any scenario you let him; photos of you hunched over a spiral notebook with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, of you mid-sip with a smoothie in your hand. Then, as part of Art’s cover photo, a photo of you in a sundress that would’ve undoubtedly had Patrick excusing himself multiple times to the closest bathroom if he’d had the pleasure of seeing it in person. 

Patrick’s scrolling absent-mindedly as he stands outside of Art’s lecture hall when he first sees it. There’s an entire folder on his Facebook dedicated just to you, and he spends the remaining forty minutes of Art’s lecture going through each and every one.

Art finally comes down the stairs and sees Patrick, head between his knees on a metal bench trying to avoid the glare from the sun. “We going?”

Patrick looks up so fast he hears something in his neck align itself. “Yeah.” They had plans to hit the court after Art’s last class. “Just let me go piss first.” Patrick shoves his phone in his pocket and ducks off to the nearest bathroom.

While he’s in there, Art decides to give you a call. He apologised profusely when he brought up Patrick’s arrival earlier in the week. His nose had found your jawline and he’d kissed along the sharp line. “My friend’s coming to visit, I never see him, so I’m probably gonna spend the week with him if that’s okay?”

You’d nodded, palm of your hand on the top of his head, twirling a select few of his curls around your fingers. “Of course, honey.”

He’d pressed a kiss right under your jawline. “Jus’ don’t want you to think I’m trying to leave you for him.”

You hummed and he felt it deep in his chest. “I appreciate that,” you said honestly. Your mind flashed back to texts from Patrick; sorry, not coming. going out. tomorrow? It had honestly been easier to get ahold of Patrick when he wasn’t on your college campus. “You have your own life, though. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Art looked up at you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Not worried,” he corrected gently. “Just thinking of you. Want to make sure we’re on the same page. He’s really important to me but also…” he trailed off.  “He’s my best friend. He’s also a massive asshole. So, I guess I wanted to kind of just… lay it out there,” he laughed. That was the thing about Art. Things that were weighing heavily on his chest would sometimes bubble up with so much force they would bring something else with them. Most of the time, it was laughter. “That I don’t want him to ruin the way you think of me, so I am going to be spending most of this week keeping him away from you.”

You’d laughed at the time and then leaned down and let him kiss you. You’d let him do more than that, too, but then you’d had to run to make it to your afternoon lecture on time. 

You don’t answer but he does get a text a few minutes later, got an essay, want to get a head start. love u, which he sends a heart back to. 

When Patrick gets back from the bathroom, he finds Art smiling down at his phone. “That your girlfriend?” he asks, leaning over to try and see Art’s text history. Art pulls his phone away.

“Stop,” he pushes him. 

Patrick blows out a puff of air, bumping into Art as the two of them walk side by side. “I just don’t get why you won’t let me see her,” he says casually, as if he doesn’t have every inch of your body completely memorised. “I want to see what she looks like.”

“I don’t want you picturing her,” Art says. “You’re not allowed to see her. You’re not allowed to imagine her, and no, you’re not allowed to meet her.”

Art wasn’t the boss of him. Fuck Art. If Patrick wants to imagine you then who is Art to stop him?

Over the next week, Art does his due diligence in not revealing a single important thing about you to Patrick, and it’s driving him crazy. It’s not like Patrick doesn’t know this information, it’s not like Patrick needs to see a photo of you to remember the way your mouth tilts up when he says something stupid. He wants Art to be the one to show you. He wants to see you through Art’s eyes.

He sees traces of you through Art’s spaces. There’s a sticker on his water bottle that he knows was a gift from you. A pink spiral notebook is nestled amongst Art’s books for his classes. There’s clean bedsheets. That’s enough to know that Art has an external influence. 

He doesn’t like this. He’s never been in this situation before. He’s always felt ahead of Art, better at tennis, better with girls. He’s not stupid, he knows how Art would always listen to Patrick’s stories, rapt with attention, half-hard down the phone line. He liked that. He was the one in control.

He liked being that way with you too. You’re soft, you’re sweet, you’re sunshine incarnate and he wanted to ruin you. Ruin you for anyone else, to be the only guy who’s ever been in your bed. Doesn’t even matter that he wasn’t your first. He liked that you don’t play tennis, or that you don’t care when he calls you. He liked you, and he couldn’t have you.

Why the fuck was Art allowed to? 

It’s gnawing at him. For the first time in the six or so years they’ve known each other, slept beside each other, been alive together, Art has something that Patrick wants. And he doesn’t even give a shit. 

It’s the way that Art doesn’t even have to try. You’ve blocked him on FaceBook, but Art posts you often. You like it – being admired. It wasn’t something you got from your last boyfriend. There were a lot of things you didn’t get from Patrick. Good morning texts, soft compliments, his hands exactly where you liked them. 

With Art it’s like everything fell so completely into place. 

The game goes by quickly; Patrick’s not feeling it. He lets Art win. They go back to Art’s dorm as it’s getting dark and Patrick is sitting again on Art’s desk, pointedly not thinking about the image of Art on his knees with you sitting prettily amongst Art’s things. 

Patrick’s smoking, barely trying to get the smoke out the window, blowing it out in lazy sighs. The tension in the air is so thick Art has to wade through it to reach his friend. Patrick tries to think of something to say that isn’t accusatory, but it’s hard when he’s sitting where you once sat. 

Patrick’s never been a yeller, especially not with Art. He’s never had to be. Art’s easy. But now, swirled in bitterness and smoke, he wants to start. To ask him how it feels to have everything he wants and to have it so well. The girl, the ease, the warmth. The love Patrick never realised he wanted. 

“What’s wrong?” Art dumps his stuff on the floor but he has the good graces to do it in a corner where it won’t be in the way. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not,” Patrick snaps, sniffing. He feels like he’s going to explode. 

Art rolls his eyes. He doesn’t take it to heart but he doesn’t let Patrick get away with either. “Either stop sulking or tell me what’s wrong.”

“Why the hell won’t you let me meet her?”

Patrick realises, with humiliating force, that he wants Art to introduce you because he knows you’ll never let him in the same room as you otherwise. This is his only shot. 

Art’s tone flips from casual to cautious. “What?”

“What, for the first time in our lives, you have a girlfriend I haven’t met?” Patrick drops his still-lit cigarette out the window, not bothering to look as it falls down six floors. “You don’t expect me to think that’s weird? You won’t even show me a picture.”

Art watches him the whole time. When he finally speaks, Patrick doesn’t expect him to sound so annoyed. His voice is low, monotone, and unfamiliar. “Because I’m not using her to make you feel better. She’s not a fucking trophy for you to look at whenever you want. I know you Patrick. You want to look at her so you can count all the ways that you could have done better. Because you can’t handle me having something just for myself.” Art got really close. “I’m not sharing.”

Something shifts between them in a way Patrick dreads. Art’s right, of course. Patrick, even now, has never viewed you as anything more than something to have. And right when Patrick needed it the most, he just let Art win 

It’s not about ego, not anymore. He doesn’t want to control you. Make you miserable as long as you’re his. You’re the first person in his life that Patrick wants to give everything to, To wake up beside, to share smiles with, to have the liberty of thinking about every second that he damn well wants to. 

“It’s not that serious,” he says placatingly. He knows how to appease Art, how to flip his anger into amusement. “Come on, there’s a couple hundred girls at this school, she’s just one of ‘em.” His chest hurts. 

“That’s the thing, Patrick.” Art rubs his temples. “She’s not. And I’m not going to let you in my head, fucking me up, fucking us up, for whatever reason you want to. I love you, man.” He steps forward, putting a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. He rubs a comforting line along the curve of Patrick’s neckline. “But this one’s different. She’s mine.”

Patrick wonders what it’s like for you; to date Art so soon after being with him. They’re pretty similar - do you hate that? Two sides of the same coin, two sides of the same dorm room. Fire and ice. Which is which?

When you see Art’s MRTA shirt do you think of Patrick’s hat with the same emblem? When Art took you to see The Devil Wears Prada did it end with you on his lap in the back of the theatre the same way it did when you’d gone to see the new X-Men? When he kissed you did he taste like the cigarettes you hated so much? Did you mind it, coming from Art?

“I’m happy for you, Art,” Patrick says instead. Art has everything Patrick’s ever wanted, and of course he’s happy for him. But for the first time, Patrick feels like he’s lost something. Something that he maybe didn’t realise he wanted until it was gone. He can’t tell what he’s missing more. You or Art.

At least Art can bear to be in the same room as him. And if Art’s as serious as he seems to be, eventually you’ll have to as well. It’s not much, but he’ll take what he can get. 

[arrowthrewme]

Sorry that I've been gone for a bit! School has been a bitch and I couldn't really think of any ideas :( But I'm gonna try to come back since I already have a few ideas in mind (as well as my drafts)

(P.S. this was inspired by ScribbleMama's Clara and Kree (you can find them only on youtube as far as I know))

WARNING: Soft yandere behaviour, male reader intended, co-depended like behaviour

It's Your Golden Hour

"You've healed the hurt inside me. Now, I will protect you from those hurts."

Moving to an old cabin, surrounded by the forest, was a long time coming. Surprisingly. Almost everyone in your family had left their city to move to a small town, disconnected from most of the human population. Either it being money problems or some breakdown because of the uncertainty of who they were—it all led to them moving.

Now it was your turn.

Arriving at the small town—if it could even be called that with how little people it held—you were greeted with smiling, welcoming faces and small treats from the elders. The people helped you get your things inside the old, but stable cabin, but didn't stick around. Which was probably for the best.

You spent the day putting things away and finding their place in your home. Yet, even after so many things found their homes, there were just as many boxes full of even more things.

That's tomorrow's problem.

So, with a tired, aching body and dull mind, you went to bed. Sleeping soundly before a rhythmic tapping awoke you.

Yan Harpy, who saw you when you first arrived and immediately knew he found the one. It's an old tale, one as old as the trees surrounding the half-bird/half-man creature. But it states that after meeting for the first time with your destiny, you will know in a lights flicker.

Yan Harpy, who spent the day preening and grooming himself so you wouldn't think he was some slob. Even surveying the forest for something to bring as the first gift (he settled on a handful of pine tree branches)

Yan Harpy, who was startled when you didn't welcome him with open arms, but loud screams and wacking. He spent so long preening himself! Was it not satisfactory??

Yan Harpy, who sulked for two days before coming up with a brilliant idea

Yan Harpy, who built his nest on your roof

Yan Harpy, who secretly (aka you know he's were very well) to make sure you don't get hurt

Yan Harpy, who brings you every find from the forest. Leaving it on your front door step and cawing when you come to pick it up so you know who gifted it (it's always him)

Yan Harpy, who soon starts to get closer. Not flying up to his nest after leaving his gift of the day, walking next to you when adventuring through the forest and even joining you in your back garden, where you take care of your crops

Yan Harpy, who, as it comes closer and closer to winter time, gets sadder and sadder. Harpies who don't have a secure, warm nest (which is practically just a larger version of a bird box) leave east to escape the cold. Even as a crow harpy, he couldn't stay the winter. He doesn't want to leave you, afraid that you would find a mate or move somewhere where he could never find you

Yan Harpy, who's filled with those types of thoughts. Each thought making him more depressed as the minutes ticked by

Yan Harpy, who was ecstatic when you offered for him to stay with you. He could stay! But not only that, you invited him into your nest. Your private space. He felt like he was going to faint

Yan Harpy, who built a nest made out of blankets and pillows in your bedroom (there is only one bedroom in the cabin). It was big enough for two people, which meant he would sit down inside it and pat it happily. Inviting you to sit beside him

Yan Harpy, who gets embarrassed by how quickly his winter coat grew in. It made him look like a puffball! That wasn't what he wanted!! He wanted to look distinguished for you...wait...you like it? Well... he guesses it isn't so bad

Yan Harpy, who is like a person heater, seeing as he runs hotter than humans (perfect for cuddling as the weather gets cooler)

Yan Harpy, who, you quickly learn, doesn't really have a name. Most harpies call themselves by their titles in their main family. And seeing as he's the youngest, that was what he was mainly called

Yan Harpy, who spends evenings going through baby name books, trying to find the perfect one (he picked out Circe. What a coincidence.)

Yan Harpy, who growls when anyone approaches you or the house. It doesn't matter if the person is married, single, old, young—he doesn't like them coming near his mate (except for little kids)

Yan Harpy, who, when jealous, just gets clingy and needy. He won't fight or yell. All he can do is think of all the ways he isn't good enough. His feathers aren't soft and neat enough, he isn't strong enough, he isn't a good provider. You'd have to spend a day or week (depending how jealous he feels) cuddling and assuring him that he's perfect the way he is

Yan Harpy, who slept in your bed for the first time during a particularly cold night. It was cold enough that even Circe was shivering. So, you invited him into your bed so both of you could get a night's rest without freezing to death

Yan Harpy, who adores spring. Yes, the shedding it... hectic. But seeing everything bloom once more, gaining back its vibrancy—oh, it makes him want to sing!

Yan Harpy, who let's you use his feathers as stuffing for pillows

Yan Harpy, who loves to hold you to his chest. Feeling your back press against his front makes him feel like time slows down.

Yan Harpy, who preens you every day. Let him brush your hair; he's begging you! On his hands and knees, begging

Yan Harpy, who speaks in chirps, caws and body language, but after some time learnt sign language to communicate better with your

Yan Harpy, who will be your mate forever. He will keep you warm and happy. Just pick take the mating feather and he'll be fully yours. Only yours.

[vossprime]

20 Questions: Writing Edition

Tagged by the Inquisition herself ( @inquisitornocturn ), thank you, this looks so fun!

How many works do you have on ao3?

23!

What’s your total ao3 word count?

102,210

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Mechanical; Medicinal (Rogue Trader)

Absolute / Obedience (BG3)

Systematical; Sacrificial (Rogue Trader)

I don't know where to put my hands (Metro 2033)

Blood in the Water (WH40K)

What fandoms do you write for?

WH40K, broadly speaking.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I try to respond to all of them simply because they spark an endless well of joy in me and most often inspire me to say something in return. Also whenever I comment I love replies as well, so I try to keep that going.

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Once I fucking sit down and continue Blackwater Days you will all see-

From my recent ones, on the principle of want (RT, Achilleas x Heinrix) comes to mind. Not for the plot, necessarily, which is more sorrowful than angsty, but the last line:

For a moment Heinrix wants to kiss him awake, kiss him goodbye.  The Interrogator breathes once, twice, then turns on his heel and leaves the room.

It was a deliberate choice to contrast Heinrix with his title here, that was my special little treat to myself. I gain another health bar anytime someone points it out.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ironic, given the title, but Bellicose Hearts (Horus Heresy). It was written as a gift and a challenge for @mortallyperfecttimemachine and the theme was humor and fluff, so it ended on a nice note. A photo together. The remembrancers are happy. Keeler is there. Karkasy is alive. Isstvan is far away.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not directly! My comments are locked to registered accounts only, that seems to dissuade the obvious bots and trolls. Always fond of the ask I got that was just a "👎" tho.

Do you write smut?

In theory yes, in practice I have been told my smut is just character studies in disguise. My most popular fics stay the ones that were exclusively written with my [redacted] though.

Do you write crossovers?

Not really - most often they don't hold any appeal for me.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, but I'm already being vagued /j - SOON.

What’s your all time favourite ship?

You're asking someone who has a brain like a sieve and triple-wields ships until polyamory is the only sensible solution :D

What’s the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

None. I plan to see everything through. If it takes 10 years, it takes 10 years. Farseer grindset.

What are your writing strengths?

Prose, poetry, evocative imagery.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue. Who came up with this. Is it not enough to communicate through 4-6 intricately crafted metaphors and call it a day? Hell world.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

Provided I am writing in English, I provide translation in the footnotes and try not to have it drag on for too long. I do enjoy some language variety in fic, though. Dirty Talk in another language? Elite. Sadly I come from the language the absolute least suited for writing this.

First fandom you wrote for?

The first one I published for was Metro 2033, the book. The first one I wrote was for a mobile game called The Arcana. Don't judge me, a bitch saw tarot themes and a pointy-toothed nonbinary vivisection freak and decided he just might. A true freak from day one - you can tell why I like Tervantias.

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm going to level with you. It will always be the last one. I grow and evolve with each piece and whatever I have last put out will be my pride and joy at that very moment. However, Blackwater Days (which I still plan to bring past chapter 1, it's just sitting in my drafts all disjointed and none of like 5 chapters empty but none ready either) will always be close to my heart for how much planning, fantasizing and worldbuilding happened around it. Those three hour discussions with my roommate on military strategy are sacred.

Tagging: Let me gather my irl squad for a second: @definitely-not-iorveth @mortallyperfecttimemachine , @goofgoofdildo , @ineadhyn , I'd be really interested to hear if you feel like it!

[manorinthewoods]

"I mastered Death, Harrowhark; I wish I'd done the smarter thing and mastered Time."

THE CLOCKED TOMB

The premise is simple. Locked Tomb, but they're all chronomancers instead. I must confess a total inability to translate many of the characteristics of the setting; but I shall do my best to conceive of the Houses as they might be, and the events of Canaan House.

To begin, then:

The FIRST HOUR is the Hour of Dawn, the Hour of Rebirth, the Hour of Grace. This Hour consists of God, his Saints, and the Priests of Canaan House. Nominally, their specialty is the manipulation of immortal time; much is said of them, but it is most often said that they could make an eon of a minute, and a minute of an eon. Their sacred duty is to maintain the existence of the universe; for Time is long dead, and there are Beasts beyond Time, and the Saints preserve the world in the final moment before calamity.

The SECOND HOUR is the Hour of Fury, the Hour of War, the Hour of Ruinous Time. For this whole frozen moment they have trained, to be the front line at the End of Days. They are mostly known for their martial prowess, but the chronomancers of the Second Hour are experienced with the End of Days, and the acceleration of Time; so that they may move quickly, and their enemies slowly, or so that they may grasp the face of another, and watch it age one hundred years in a second, and crumble to dust in the wind's grip.

The THIRD HOUR is the Hour of Healing, the Hour of Restoration. They are specialised in reversing time; unlike the Saints, they cannot travel through it, but they may, selectively, recapitulate bygone hours. A wilted rose will bloom again; dusk will turn to noon. The soul, however, is inviolate; the body's history may be unwritten, but not that of the soul. It is thus forbidden to reverse the history of a corpse.

The FIFTH HOUR is the Hour of Authors. They know that Time is history, and history is written; and they know of how history might be written. They can declare things, about the past and the future. Only so much; only so much. But enough; to say that a corpse was never befouled, or a room never entered. But enough; to declare that a death never did occur. With every stroke of their drafting-pen, the End of Days is courted; the Work is scratched and left to bleed. It is a delicate dance. It is one they master.

The SIXTH HOUR is the Hour that Sees, the Hour that Remembers. They unwind Time, to gaze at its moments; they peer through the ages to observe the past and future. They are prophets and elegiasts both.

The SEVENTH HOUR is the Hour of Fading and Frozen Beauty, the Hour of the Sunset. They press their fingers to the hands of the clock, so that it will not tick its last. They are very adept at preservation, at taking the Grand Work of God and perverting it to a frozen moment.

The EIGHTH HOUR is the Hour of Judges, the Hour of the Reckoners, the Hour of Law. They bear the particular specialty of the transference of hours; they do not create or destroy time, but they are known for drawing it from one to another. The practice is often seen as barbaric; there is a certain nature of natures, which governs transference, and by this law time may only be transferred through alike things. That is, to rejuvenate one, you must take time from another. The Eighth are the siphoners of Time.

The NINTH HOUR is the Hour of the End. It observes the roaring barrier of the Work, and the End of Days beyond. It is a gloomy observation; but there's little else to do but while away the time, in the old and ruined Empire.

Miscellaneous thoughts:

The Empire of Days has not lasted for ten thousand years. In fact, it's not been around for very long at all. 900 years, maybe less.

Calling the Houses the Hours isn't just a minor time-themed twist. The Hours are, in fact, one after the other. The Eighth Hour is the Seventh, after a hundred years have passed; the same with all the rest. In this world, Harrow is descended from Silas, who is descended from Dulcinea, and so on all the way back to God.

How, then, are they all at Canaan House? Simple: TIME SHENANIGANS. Obviously. The timeline's completely borked. Kind of the whole point.

In fact, there aren't even separate planets for each Hour. They've all been living on dying Earth; Harrow and Gideon are the last scions of the Empire, period, and have grown up in Canaan House in its ruined state. They are the hosts.

The plot would obviously involve Time Shenanigans. Like if the first Homestuck intermission was an entire book. Time travel is kept to a minimum; only the Saints can truly reverse time. However, two Saints are made at Canaan House, so it's not just Cytherea time-traveling - it's Ianthe and Harrow too.

Whether or not the Canaan House shenanigans are time-stable is a very important question. If the shenanigans are stable, then there's a very intricate game of chess being played by people who aren't aware they're playing it. Ianthe probably could reverse-engineer Sainthood (debatable if it would involve cavalier-eating here) and the inevitability of her ascension; Harrow might not realise.

If the shenanigans are not time-stable, we have a lot more room. Probably just about everyone dies the first time, and Harrow kills Gideon, but then Harrow travels back in time and starts trying to screw with the timeline to get it into a better state. I don't know what would result from this.

This was actually mostly an excuse to write overly grandiose descriptions of time magic based on a single throwaway line on page 34. I do not have a plot. My apologies.

[buckleyreid]

I wanna talk about Byler and some of the reasons why I think they'll be endgame. I didn't mean for this to be so long but the only way for me to organize my thoughts is to write them down so alas. I was also gonna leave this in the drafts since I'm not active in the ST fandom but what the hell, here it is anyway.

For context, I’ve always been a casual watcher and, until 3 months ago, I didn’t even ship it because I wasn’t paying attention to the california storyline when I first watched S4 so I kinda thought they were one of those mlm ships that don’t have much canon to back them up.

Then I actually payed attention to their scenes in S4 and like ?? it’s so obvious ??

When I started rooting for Byler, before coming into fandom spaces, it felt so clear that they were working towards them getting together in S5, there was no doubt in my mind. Will could very well just have been gay without having Mike as the object of his affection and yet here we are. We finished S4 with them promising to stick together.

I think things only start getting a little murky and doubt perhaps creeps in because people start overthinking things, and queerbait has been such a problem in entertainment.

I was never a fan of Mike and El as a couple, I thought they were usually at their weakest character wise when they were paired up, Mike in particular kinda loses his purpose imo and he’s just kinda… there? Also, they mostly get separate arcs during the seasons so we don't see them grow and learn things together like we do for other couples (Lucas and Max, Joyce and Hopper, Nancy and Jonathan). S1 they're together but they're not a couple until the end, S2 they were apart, S3 they were in the same group but broken up, S4 mostly apart again.

The stronger argument for Mike and El being the endgame is that they have spent most of the show being a couple. I even think the question of why they’d spend time building them up just to separate them in the last season is a valid one, but how I see it is that they have actually been spending S4 tearing them down, showing us why they don't work and how they simply don't understand each other.

Mike's "I love you" to El should have been a major defining moment for their relationship, it should've eased the tension and yet, their end of the season is her pretty much closing a door in his and Will's faces. If they were going to fix their relationship they would’ve given that last Byler scene to Mike and El and we would’ve seen her confide in him about how much it hurt to lose a battle for the first time. Instead, we have Mike comforting and reassuring Will that they'll succeed together.

All of this is a long winded way to say that, as someone who doesn't care to try and pick up on the little hints and "proof" that Byler will get together (or even believes in someone of that), I totally think they'll be endgame simply due to Will being in love with Mike, since that would be absolutely unnecessary if it's not the groundwork for something else.

[florida3exclamationpoints]

House MD + text posts pt. 47/?

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[flickering-nightfall]

I wanted to update my design refs (I never posted the old ones, but they're from maybe six months ago now). But then it took forever because I kept putting the iterators into ten bajillion outfits. Well here they are now!

I'll probably do this with the slugcats too.

[one-flower-one-sword]

well I know what you want from me you want someone to be your reflection, your bitter deception setting you free won't you come and dance in the dark with me? show me what you are, I am desperate to know nobody better than the perfect enemy and I know what you want from me you want the same as me my redemption, eternal ascension setting me free

for @bladesmercy's fic The Fear of Falling Stars

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i’m so . excited to write kitsune!geto and merman!sugu and wolf/hunter!sugu you have nooo idea

[hephaestuscrew]

I do think there's something special about the way that audio drama creators seem to love including cameos of voice actors from other popular audio dramas. Obviously, part of the reason why actors from one show might pop up in another is because the audio drama creator community is relatively small and interconnected, and also because those actors are very talented.

But there's also often such a sense that creators are having fun with these cameos. Like Greater Boston casting audio drama heavyweights Briggon Snow, Zach Valenti, and Felix Trench as famous film actors Matt Daemon, Ben Affleck, and Mark Wahlberg respectively. Or Faux and Stallion having Tom Crowley (who plays a Victorian detective in Victoriocity) pop up as Dr Watson. Or Unseen casting Beth Eyre and Felix Trench as characters who are twins. Or Arden getting Emma Sherr-Ziarko to play an actor impersonating a character played by her former Wolf 359 costar Michelle Agresti (with Michaela Swee also appearing as an actor impersonating the other main Arden lead).

In these cases, it's not just that there's a cameo, but that the cameo is given particular (often comedic) significance to those who are aware of the featured actor's other work. The vast majority of people wouldn't recognise any of these voices. But by doing these very intentional cameos, these creators show confidence that a fair chunk of their audience will know these actors and enjoy the link. There's an awareness that listeners of one audio drama are fairly likely to listen to (or at least be aware of) other fiction podcasts, even when the shows in question aren't of particularly similar genres. Recognising these cameos feels like being in on a secret. It feels like these shows are giving a little nod to listeners to say that we're part of the same club.

[wundrousarts]

Going to do a Nevermoor series reread in June + July + August ? if anyone else also wants to do a reread around that time, could be fun to have more of the fandom prepping for Silverborn

Did initially make a roadmap plan to split the books up into weeks on top of already being months, so that people could focus on specific parts and discuss each week….. but between the fact that I messed it up the first time, Silverborn kept getting delayed as I planned it, and I’m actually really bad at keeping to stuff like that (looking at you, Silverborn Countdown Challenge…) I’m deciding to just go for it at whatever pace happens.

[sidesteppostinghours]

posts that took me 6 months to finish making. so anyway,

its too late in the night for me to be coherent about this but

"I don't distrust you," he admits since you've gone silent. "You're allowed to be here." He feels guilty. Guilty over how he's been treating you, but also over how things turned out.

"I take that as you've done some things you regret." "Many." Her brows draw together. "And some I blame myself for, even though I know I shouldn't."

There's more here. You can feel it simmering under the surface. He looked away last time. It couldn't be that bad, could it? He could have, he should have…[i]not this time.[/i]

"I feel like I actually got a chance to move on now that you're back in my life. I don't want to be the marshal that messed up and got half ${his} team killed; I want to change. But it's…hard. Harder than I thought."

"Good." The laughter sounds genuine. "I'd hate it if that part still showed."

thinking about fhr and second chances. about characters that live and make mistakes and regret and have to move on anyway. and maybe they do, or maybe they dont. thinking about how it reflects on sidestep, on all different versions of sidestep, and the ways they can handle their rebirth. thinking about sidesteps that try to fix things with the people theyve hurt, or find new people to help when they cant make it up to the people they need to. about steps that have to bury their regrets to have their new lease on life, and the ones who manage to lock up the skeletons in the closet vs the ones who still have the past hounding at their heels wherever they go.

theres the way it all interacts with eachother too. like, take argent, for example, somebody who cant afford to do anything but move on and hope that she can still be better this time around as a matter of survival. compare that with herald, that lived his life constantly thinking about the needs of others and so has to apologize for every minute problem he might have caused. or chen, who has such an understated self-loathing for the mistakes hes made in one lifetime and yet reaches the same conclusion of pushing aside his guilt so it doesnt crush him, so he can Get Things Done. ortega and mortum are different in the way they approach regrets too, where mortum cynically accepts it as part of life and ortega has to find literally any way they can make it right.

just like. man. fhr is a story about regret, huh.

also have a bonus hg quote from the 4.2 about it because it literally inspired this insanity and itd feel wrong not to include it LMFAO

[i]The arms around you pull you into a hug as you try to think. Smother you in caring and worry. Loss. Fear. Not letting you go. Not this time. Not again.

FUCKED UP SIBLING RELATIONSHIPS YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!! TO ME!!!!!!

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Not May, but the semester is finally over (not officially, but with my finals schedule, I've practically got nothing left)

I'm back :D I feel god-damn awful though, so for the next few days I'll be sharing the handful of sketches and scribbles I made over the last month or so. It's not a lot, but hopefully I'll be on my feet when they're all posted and able to work on my own art again. Thank you guys for your patience and support while I was gone, it meant the world to me as I was trudging through the rest of the semester <3

[pussymasterdooku]

my beloved imac from 2014 with a cracked screen that i conned my dad into giving me so i had a computer on which to do stupid freelancer shit for him but use primarily for personal use (file storage, use appletv to play streaming sites on our actual tv, play sims) seems to be……engaging in behaviors that for lack of a better way to put this best resemble when my elderly cat started having seizures after a hard summer of kidney problems and we had to be like. oh it’s the end the end? obviously less emotional than that but. you know. she’s had a long good life and maybe it’s her time. that’s okay. all things end. anyway. all this to say we are trying to coax her into not just waking up again but pretty please just giving me two files that are the backbone of the recurring stupid freelancer shit i do every month. please baby i have hand problems i can’t build those templates again. please.………