#iceberg straight ahead!

[stabbyapologist]

God, this goes to the top 5 worst sequels I've ever seen: the CGI, the romance angle, the characters, omfg

[elephantshoetoo]

Dear Milevens,

Your ship is the Titanic and an iceberg has been spotted. Head for the nearest lifeboat! Women and children first.

Love, Mike

[milksnake-tea]

━━ fear not the road untaken .

Sunday hadn't spent long with the Stellaron Hunters before boarding the Express, but the memories he'd made with them were priceless. One quiet day in the Express's cabin, while reflecting on his experiences with the Hunters, you appear to visit him.

astral express!sunday x gn!stellaronhunter!reader

contains: sunday used to be a stellaron hunter, teasing, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF THIS IS THE CUTEST THING IVE WRITTEN SO FAR, SUNDAY IS DOWN BADDDD AS HE DESERVES TO BE BITES FIST I MISSED THIS SO BADDDDD, not established relationship sunday just has a massive crush on you

word count: 2.06k

a/n: happy drip marketing yall. you all get a sunday fluff piece. as a treat. also yes i am completely and totally sane. (THIS IS THE MOST SELF INDULGENT FIC IVE EVER WRITTEN I AM SO SORRY GUYS)

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo

“Sunday, we’re going out to Belobog for a bit. Wanna come with?”

Heeled boots still in the midst of a step. Feather-like hair shifts and tousles as he turns his head. At the invitation, gold melts, sapphires glitter, and a gentle smile warms his lips.

March is a blessing, he thinks. She is bubbly, kind, and always manages to light up whatever room she steps into - in that regard, she is not too unlike his beloved sister. Although her ability to plan ahead leaves much room for improvement, he cannot deny that it was her presence that made his transition into a Nameless much easier than it would’ve been.

Although, truthfully, he’d expected more resistance from her - out of everyone, she seemed to be the most traumatized by the Charmony Festival Disaster, and she also had more of a distaste for Stellaron Hunters than the others. But surprisingly, she’d come around to him, and welcomed him into the Express with open arms - and a lot of food. He swears, every time she’s come back from a trip, it’s another sweet or drink shoved into his arms - not that he’s complaining, though.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he begins, then rests a hand over his chest as a reflex. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse. The last expedition has left me rather exhausted - and as you know, I don’t fare well in cold weather.”

Dan Heng nods in understanding. He’s never been a man of many words, and for that Sunday appreciates him. He rather likes straight-forward people, who aren’t afraid to say their mind - perhaps that’s why he’s grown to adore both the Express and the Hunters so much.

“Is there anything you want us to bring back?” pipes up the Trailblazer, dog-like eyes shining as they lean over March. “Like, sweets or whatever?”

Sunday bites back a chuckle. Somehow, word had gotten around that Sunday had quite the sweet tooth. He doesn’t know who started it or how they found out (he has his suspicions on March), but ever since the trio has been dragging him around to various planets and encouraging him to try the local desserts.

He wonders if he’s gotten cavities yet. He hopes not.

Maybe he should check again, at a later time.

“That Rye Bread Iceberg you brought last time was rather enjoyable. I’d like to try it again.”

March and the Trailblazer brighten at his words. “Okay, on it!”

Dan Heng only hums his acknowledgement before turning to leave the parlor car. “Let’s go,” he advises the others. “You know Seele doesn’t like to wait.”

Sunday has never personally met this Seele (the Trailblazer describes her as a crass but kind-hearted warrior), but her fury is enough to whip both March and the Trailblazer into shape. It isn’t long before the trio is waving him goodbye as they descend into the frozen planet, and he also bids them farewell.

And then it is just him, and the conductor.

A small sigh leaves him as he sits down on one of the many couches. He wasn’t lying when he said he was exhausted. Fighting - or any physical activity, for that matter - isn’t exactly his strong suit. Even during his time with the Hunters, he’d stayed behind the front lines, acting as a pseudo Kafka with his carefully crafted words and tuning abilities.

That’s one of the few things about the Hunters that he prefers over the Express - they didn’t force him to hike through deserts and jungles and mountains and Xipe knows what else. All they did was throw him off a skyscraper in the name of the script (he’s pretty sure Elio just wanted to see if he’d actually fly or not).

Sunday blinks, realizing just what had just passed through his mind. Then he sighs with a smile, leaning back into the red plush of the couches.

Only a few months since his fall, and he’s already beginning to think as weirdly as the rest of them.

“Sunday, are you alright?”

Sunday glances down to see the conductor waddling by his feet.

Pom Pom is… strange, no doubt - for whatever reason, Dan Heng fears them and has advised Sunday to not anger them at all costs. Their past is shrouded in mystery, but Sunday finds himself drawn to the conductor. Perhaps living most of his life in a fever dream like Penacony has warped his perception of what is normal and what is not.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He shifts on the couch to make room, but the conductor shakes their head.

“Are you sure? Pom Pom saw you laughing to yourself,” they fret, tapping their nubby hands together anxiously. “Have you been sleeping enough?”

Sunday crosses one leg over the other, and rests his hands over his knee. “If you’re concerned about my transition from Penacony to reality, be at ease. The Hunters have practically beat a proper sleep schedule into me.”

Pom Pom yelps in shock. “B-Beat?! They beat you?”

“Not literally,” Sunday hastes, instinctively reaching out a hand to calm the conductor. “It was more akin to… ominously threatening checkups. Although, there was this one time-”

He sees the look on Pom Pom’s face, and decides to stop it there. He fears they might break out sobbing if he continues.

“Nevertheless, rest assured that I am sleeping at an appropriate time,” he finishes reassuringly. His practiced smile pays off as the conductor gradually calms down, albeit worry about the Hunters’ methods still lingers.

“Alright, if you say so, Sunday.” They look around uneasily. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Sunday waves his hands hastily. “No, I am alright, thank you-”

“He’ll have some tea.”

Pom Pom jumps with a shriek and Sunday’s wings puff up. A familiar laugh ghosts his ear, and immediately Sunday’s face brightens.

“What- What are you doing here?!” Pom Pom quickly hides behind one of Sunday’s slender legs, hugging it like a lifeline. Sunday places a hand on their head to calm them as he turns to the hologram with a warm smile.

“At ease, conductor, they’re a friend.”

Your holographic form glitches in and out of reality. There’s a thin blue filter over your appearance, but other than that, everything is the same as he remembers.

“Hey, angel,” you coo, leaning your elbow on his shoulder as you sit besides him. Its weight is not the same as it would be in reality, but the presence is enough - a small, barely noticeable tingle that has his heart fluttering and his wings following in suit. “How’s life as Nameless? Do you miss us yet?”

Sunday laughs gently. “It has only been two weeks since I left the Hunters. I’m afraid I haven’t had the time to miss you all.”

You pout playfully, sticking out your tongue.Even though parts of you chip away and reappear, and your form isn’t stable, Sunday can’t help but be as captivated by you as he was when he was still among the Hunters’ ranks. Where the projection fails, his tinted memory fills in.

“Silver Wolf misses you, although I doubt she’d actually say it,” you say, taking a lock of his hair and twirling it around your finger. “Has she visited you yet?”

Sunday stutters a bit before weakly batting your finger away with his wing. “No, I’m afraid she hasn’t.”

“Hm.” You smile at his attempt to brush you off. Letting go of his hair, you instead opt to tug lightly at his cheek, earning a squeak from the Halovian. “That’s weird. Maybe she was too shy to speak up.”

“I-” Sunday rubs his cheek when you finally let go. Embarrassingly, his wings jump to shield his face, an unfortunate reflex he’d yet to curb. “I suppose she was…”

He hears you hum, and he lifts a wing to peek at you. His cheeks feel hot - no, that’s an understatement, the entirety of his body feels as if he’s in a fireplace.

“Give her my regards,” he finally breathes out, thanking the Aeons for his training in keeping his composure. Sure, it ultimately fails whenever he looks at you, but at least he’s able to fix himself quickly enough… or at least, he hopes that’s what it looks like.

“You didn’t answer my question though.” Propping your elbow on his shoulder again, you rest your cheek in your palm. “How’s the Nameless life treating you?”

“It’s chaotic,” Sunday admits with a fond sigh. He relaxes into the couch once more, feeling himself sink into the plush. Briefly, he’s tempted to lean his head on your shoulder, but given that you’re a holograph, he holds himself back. “But it’s fun. The Nameless have been kind, and the planets I’ve visited… It’s nice, to see the universe as someone other than a wanted criminal.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

Sunday would apologize, but considering that it’s you he’s talking to, he doesn’t feel the need to. After all, you’ve said worse to him, and him to you.

“You know what I mean,” he chuckles. “To be honest, though, the Express and the Hunters aren’t so different.”

He hears Pom Pom squawk indignantly, and again he ruffles their fur to calm them. Turning ever so slightly to your hologram, he gazes at you with adoration and fondness swelling his heart.

“To the both of you, I am forever grateful. If it weren’t for your kindness, I’d be rotting away in an alley somewhere. I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

All distaste for the Hunters fades from Pom Pom as they giggle bashfully. “Aw, Sunday… You don’t have to thank us. We were just doing what the Nameless do.”

You nod in agreement, reaching through his wing and poking his cheek again. “Conductor’s right. No need for thanks, birdie.”

“Still-” Sunday makes a sound like a startled bird as you poke his cheek harder, squishing it against the rest of his face. Underneath his coat, his primary wings strain with the urge to flutter and twitch, while his secondary wings are held back by sheer willpower. The only sign that they want to flap so badly is with the tiniest of tremors.

“None of that,” you chide him gently, tapping him lightly on the plush of his lips. “We’re just glad you’re happy - right, bunny?”

“Who’re you calling bunny?!” Pom Pom protests, steam puffing out of their head while steam threatens to escape Sunday’s face for completely different reasons.

Before you can reply, however, your form begins to glitch out, flickering in and out of reality at a higher frequency. With an annoyed click of your tongue, you stand up.

“Looks like Silver Wolf isn’t happy,” you comment, brushing off imaginary dust from your clothes. Taking one step so that you’re fully in front of Sunday, you lean in so that your projected nose barely brushes against his. “I have to get going now. You have my number, so text me if you need anything, okay? Or if you want to catch me up with your travels, you can always call me.”

Sunday’s voice feels lodged in his throat. With a subtle gulp, his Adam’s Apple bobbing ever so slightly, he manages to speak with an even voice.

“Okay,” he whispers, his voice almost a whimper. He wants to explode.

You smile fondly, and duck in to peck at the corner of his lips. The buzzing of your holograph morphs into electrifying lightning, surging into his veins, puffing up his feathers and making all of his hairs stand up and sending his already tapping heart into a frenzy. His body freezes into a statue, and all coherent thoughts melt away into a haze that is both ecstatic and shocked.

By the time you pull away, his wings are flapping erratically and his entire body is dyed in a rosey red. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, but all words die on his tongue and he is left blabbering like a fool.

You laugh again, eyes crinkling so beautifully he swears he’s ascended.

“If that’s how you react, I wonder how cute you’ll be when it’s the real deal.”

And then you’re gone, vanishing like a sweet dream in a flurry of pixels, leaving Sunday there to dazedly touch his lips, and then where you’d kissed him.

And then he smiles, giddily, and his halo practically glows as soft, love-stricken giggles begin to leave him.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[leftneb]

There is Something Seriously Wrong with this Logo..... Chapter Two

So. Lots of you have seen this post by my dear partner ( @lailau7904 ) in which the Williams F1 design team get absolutely torn to bits. In the case you haven't read it yet I highly recommend you do because a) it's really fucking funny and b) it makes what I'm about to tell you even funnier. Though you don't have to, this post touches on entirely different things still regarding this one goddamn logo.

The original post starts like this:

Innocent enough, we made an assumption in good faith that the logo displayed on the Wikipedia page would be the same one as the official version used by Williams. Buckle the fuck up because I'm about to tell you why that was the worst mistake we could have made.

Please. Please I beg of you keep reading this took YEARS off our lifespans. Like the original post was fun and all but it was merely the top of the iceberg. If this were an hbomberguy video this would be the part where he reveals that the background was a greenscreen the whole time. More below the cut!!! :333

The Truth

Already after only a few hours after hitting "post" on the dissection, people started pointing out to us that we'd missed an absolutely crucial detail on the Wikimedia page we got the logo from, pay careful attention:

See THIS?

Yeah this means that that image is not, and never was, the official logo of Williams. All along it had been the work of a Wikipedia user by the name of Juanchocarbonero. Here you can even see the (admittedly painful) history of the file as provided by Wikimedia, this image was uploaded all the way back in 2016, it even underwent an update when the team changed their colour scheme to a lighter blue without getting fucking fixed.

But to me the absolutely most painful part about this page is the "File Usage" section. Which gives you a quick preview of just how deep the goddamn disease that is this piece of graphic design sin really spreads.

And just to clarify: the official version of the logo used by Williams on merch etc is perfectly fine. It's a nice piece of graphic design. I still quite like it. But the story doesn't end there. Not even close.

Consequences

When you look up "williams logo" on Google the image provided by Wikimedia the very first result that pops up, if you're looking for a high-quality .png of this logo that, logically, is what you'll end up using. And I mean, why wouldn't you? What reason do you have not to use it? As long as you don't look to close (oops) it's a perfectly fine, high-definition, clean and transparent image of the logo! No shit people are going to use it!

But this raises a question: Why IS it the most widespread version of the logo? That's fucking weird isn't it? Surely if the actual logo used on ex.: the official Williams F1 website (which, again, is perfectly fucking fine) was available they would've just used that, right?

Now. Small problem. If you want you can go ahead and open whatever search engine you use, if you do that I'm gonna need you to type in "Williams logo" into the search bar, and just try finding a picture that is

of the actual official logo (you can tell the bootleg from the real thing by checking if the middle segment of the W has spiky ends or flat ones. We're looking for flat ones here)

high quality (no pixels or blurring visible to the naked eye)

a transparent png (none of that chequered background bullshit)

NOT a logo with any words (such as: Williams or Racing) visible in it. those don't count.

If you didn't feel like doing any of that, I'll just tell you the answer: you fucking can't. Nothing like that EXISTS. The closest I could get are these two, both of which are mid to ass quality, so they don't count either.

No sensible individual is going to scroll google search results for 5 minutes straight just so they can use a 200x200 image, especially when they think a perfect alternative is right there.

I even found several recoloured versions of the diseased logo, including one as a sticker on Redbubble! Fuck me that's a horrible sight!

The Search

Because I wrote the previous paragrahps after we'd figured out exactly what had happened, you might be under the impression that by this point in trying to answer the question "Why the fuck is that image on Wikipedia instead of, idk, the real fucking thing?" we'd at least established the existence of said "real Williams F1 logo". You'd be wrong, because for somewhere around 24 hours after we'd made the initial, horrifying discovery of just how fucked the Wikipedia version is, we genuinely could not tell if that was the official logo or not.

The ones displayed on their website weren't at all downloadable or even copyable, a non-ass quality of the damn thing just didn't seem to exist anywhere, so we didn't dare draw any conclusions. And we were still foolishly operating on the assumption that Wikipedia wouldn't just lie to us. (this is why your teachers hate it when you use it a source btw. like this is the ONE time it's actually been reasonable)

So, in the hopes of finding the offical Williams Racing logo, the non-scuffed one because clearly it exists, somewhere, we consulted an expert on Intellectual Property: my mother!

What this "consultation" actually roughly looked like was: we went on a walk and I started rambling about the Situation from Last Night before she cut me off and pulled up the website of the World Intellectual Property Organisation, aka the place they store all the Copyright information of like, everything.

BEHOLD:

(pictured; THE ACTUAL FUCKING LOGO I CANNOT BELIEVE IT'S EXISTED THIS WHOLE TIME)

Link to the actual real official legal document because goddamn this rabbithole just kept getting deeper so I like, have that now.

For refence, here is the official copyrighted version and the Wikimedia file overlayed on top of each other. As you can tell, it's disgusting. It's a poor, eyeballed imitation at best.

The copyrighted logo is horrifically low quality because, guess what, that image also isn't downloadable or copyable from the page. I really really cannot blame Juanchocarbonero for uploading his own version to Wikimedia because there legitimately does not exist a version of this logo that is freely available to the public. Like that goddamn abomiation is all we have. It's the effort that counts I guess.

My mother suggested that a possible reason for this could be avoiding the production of knockoff merch, or at least making it recognisable in case it is sold. Think about it, when your logo Doesn't Exist online, no one can use it without a license! It's kind of genius! I'm also about 99% sure they didn't orchestrate it so, it was good luck I guess?

interlude: How the FUCK does Copyright even work

I did immediately think to myself "we should REALLY fix the wikipedia version, like, stat" because I cannot in good conscience have this information available to me and not do anything with it, for the good of the people. However, this poses an issue: was the logo really not scuffed on purpose? Could it be that that version uploaded to Wikipedia isn't a 1:1 of the official logo because of copyrighting issues? To find out I had to look deeper, by comparing the official, website-available logos of various other F1 teams I came to conclusion that: [........................]

Yeah so I wrote that paragraph before actually checking for refences, but even after probably an hour of trying very hard to make sense of the copyright documents and copyright law in general we could not make sense of any of it. According to my mother (again, the closest we have to an expert, like she actually works with copyright in the context of companies but she's not specifically an IP expert. just to clarify) it's actually a lot worse for Wikipedia to have a falsified version of the Williams logo, than it would be to use the copyrighted version. This is because they're spreading misinformation by pretending that's the actual logo. And yet.

According to the Copyright Tag (the one on the top) in the Licensing section of the Wikimedia page for the thing pretending to be the Williams F1 logo, it's fine to use it because just a bunch of shapes. The thing is however, that it says that for pretty much every F1 team's logo, most of which are sourced straight from the official website. So this doesn't really mean anything tbh. According to our local expert (still my mother) it's fucking confusing. So I've decided to leave that at that.

update October 20th: as far as the Wikimedia pages on copyrighting tell me, uploading the official logo could, potentially, get me into serious legal trouble with Williams because of copyright laws. Which is still confusing because as said, every other team's logo is sitting uncontested on their respective Wikipedia pages. So basically we still don't know.

Okay. Backtrack. We forgot to ask something very important:

HOW?

HOW does one fuck up a perfectly fine logo THAT BAD.

WHY does one make their own scuffed tracejob and HOW does it end up like THAT. Clearly something must have gone horrifically wrong for it to end up like that.

I have a theory as to what might have happened:

It was either drawn or painted by hand, for a physical paintjob it's actually sort of impressively precise, but still objectively fucked. For a while I outright refused to believe that it could have been done in a digital program with the types of mistakes that were made, but you'll see this theory (partially) disproven later on so I retract it for now.

Operating on the assumption that it wasn't done digitally, a likely theory could be one involving a picture of scan of the paintjob. If the picture was taken at an angle or the logo itself was on a curved surface that COULD potentially explain the weird sort of slide everything has to it.

From then the picture might have been inserted into a digital art program, and the area of the logo might have been automatically selected using the magic wand tool, which could explain the weird growth at the top and that odd rounded off corner.

We also drew the conclusion that the file itself had been "tampered with" (aka cropped manually) by a human, because no computer would generate a resolution of 3356x2543 (you can that this is the original resolution on the Wikimedia page)

WAIT HOLD ON IS THAT IT?

The question of how the Fuck this guy managed to mess up the logo, and even more specifically why some edges were fine and some weren't (ant colony looking thing on the top left) bothered us so much that I at one point started just looking up "WIlliams logo" with the results filtered down to pre-2017 in an attempt to find when exactly the messed up logo was created. As if that would be any help.

Now what I definitely didn't expect to find was THIS

ENHANCE

Yes, you're seeing it right, THAT is the original 'Williams logo with the fucked up arm angles and lenghts'. Which PROVES that, contrary to our previous belief, Juancocarbonero was NOT the origin of the mistakes. Instead it was [checks notes] a DeviantArt user by the name of Nerdkid56?

The original DeviantArt post, which as of 9:47pm CET on the 13th of October 2024 I am about 90% sure is the actual first appearanace of the scuffed logo, is from May of 2015, which lines up well with the original upload date of the fucked up logo onto Wikipedia (November 2016). At the time that DeviantArt post was almost the only source for the logo.

And in the case you needed any convincing that those two logos are the same, here they are overlayed. You may notice that it's one shape (excluding the rounded corner which isn't visible at this resolution.)

This discovery is essential to understanding why the current scuffed version is the way it is. You might remember our confusion about the way some edges are fine while some are attempting to leave the image, the whole thing is a weird Frankensteinian amalgamation of vectors and magic wand mistakes. With this knowledge we can now assume that the mistakes happened in 2 layers:

Nerdkid56: likely just eyeballed the proportions. I'd guess he drew one arm before the other and flipped it around without really checking the angles. Also didn't give a shit about whether the arms lined up with the base or not. Legitimately bad design made in a digital program.

Juancocarbonero: why he used the scuffed W logo instead of the normal ones that were also perfectly accessible by 1 goddamn Google search is a mistery. HOW he even got access to it is another question I do not think we'll have answers to. And I've already explained some of the things we think may be responsible for the uneveness and bumps. Point is he fucked it up even more.

My theory for why Juanchocarbonero used the scuffed version instead of any other available picture goes like this: it was the only png he could find. Practically every other search result for "Williams Logo" that predates 2017 is a jpeg or absolute ass quality (sometimes both for good measure) so, despite it's flaws, Nedkid56's trace of it could have been the best option available at the time (the quality is actually very very good since it's a vector image, and I guess our friend Juanchocarbonero doesn't have an eye for design considering he didn't notice uhm, everything that is wrong with that model.)

Conclusion

The only way to right these wrongs is to go back, to the very beggining of this saga. Wikipedia. Williams I'm so sorry for what you've had to endure. I know what I have to do now. When I eventually make a proper vector image of the official logo and upload it to Wikimedia it'll all be over. And I WILL do it (but not rn this has already robbed me of like 3 whole days of my life. soon)

All of this is, admittedly inconsequental, but also absolutely fucking hilarious. Like imagine. you. one single guy, you make ONE mistake in a silly little "tracing this logo" project because you couldn't be arsed to check the angles of a silly little W. And some other guy, who you likely don't even know, over a whole ass year later, takes your flawed piece of design, makes it even worse somehow and uploads it to a site from which your little tiny innocent mistake becomes the most widespread version of a logo used by an actual real company worth over 700 Million US Dollars. HOW. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN. WHY HAS NO ONE FIXED THIS??? IT'S BEEN 9 YEARS

Just to give you a final look on just how widespread this plague is, here are some examples of media the fucked up version of the logo is featured in:

this Mr V's Garage video (the original reason we started this conversation in the first place)

the thumbnails of these two videos by Tommo, this one by FP1Will, and this one by RicksF1Addiction

such an amount of random places. likely fanmerch and fanart, and like, pretty much any place someone wanted to use the logo. it's everywhere. if you've ever had the Williams logo displayed in anything you've made I can guarantee you 99.9% chance you used the fucked version

and late thank you to everyone ( @bumblewyn @mid-nighttiger @vro0m @lemonsgovroom @mikraas @leclerced fucking hell I kept needing to add people to this list because compiling all of this took absurdly long) who pointed out our misconception in the reblogs of the original post and contributed to us actually looking into this further. and sorry to everyone for accidentally spreading misinformation lmao (it's too funny not to have been worth it tho) (ALSO it's not really our fault is it)

and to keep the tradition of ending on a live discord reaction:

[twistedmionn]

Twisted Wonderland iceberg

Explanations ahead (slight spoiler warning)

Tier 1:

everything is self-explanatory, I think

Tier 2:

Haruhi = the protagonist of Ouran High School Host Club. She's a girl who dresses up as a boy (correct me if I'm wrong) and many players who have a female MC consider theirs to be like Haruhi. [EDIT: Thanks for the anon pointing out that I misspelled the name!]

Tier 3:

self-explanatory

Tier 4:

A fair amount of people headcanon Vil as a trans woman because he presents androgynously/feminine and doesn't care about gender roles. This has also caused discussion in the fandom because breaking gender roles ≠ trans.

Tier 5:

People sometimes wish TWST was more like a dating sim and had character/dorm routes.

Some people headcanon that Silver is based on Prince Philip (from Sleeping Beauty) and/or is a prince himself. I haven't played all of book 7 yet (only the parts out in the ENG server) so idk if the theory has been proven right.

Lilia is old and hints at dying soon.

Hot NPCs, such as Deuce's mom and Sebek's grandpa.

Ace and Deuce have expressed interest in Yuu at various points in the game.

Genshin VAs: Leona/Alhaitham, Silver/Kazuha, Idia/Razor are the ones I can think of

Tier 6:

A beastman (I think it was Jack) has stated that he has problems talking to animals, and Ruggie's talent at it is considered something special.

The tweels are considered intersex by some due to eel anatomy (I'm no eel expert).

Kalim is considered the real villain by some due to never really bothering to help Jamil.

Epel's backstory/attitude has many elements that a fair amount of trans men relate to.

There are theories that Lilia and Sebek are twisted from Peter Pan characters. I'm unsure about Silver, but I think I've read something about him being from another movie, too!

Tier 7:

Some people headcanon that Ace has experienced domestic abuse.

There's a theory that Ace will betray Yuu.

Cater has two sisters who boss him around, which is a resemblance to Cinderella.

Malleus might have two pps because well... dragon.

Epel and Deuce had a whole ass beach date. Deuce constantly cares for him and broke the school rules in order to make Epel feel better. Their scenes together (the settings) looked straight out of a shoujo manga. If Epel were a girl, this ship would be considered canon by most.

I'm not sure EXACTLY which languages Jade's VA speaks, but I do remember that he knows German.

In one of his Halloween vignettes, Ruggie — as opposed to Lilia — has indirectly expressed that he has no interest in romance/relationships.

Tier 8:

UH.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Bubbles and foam

Summary: Reader is the youngest of the six mermaid princess that presided the Great Sea. As the reader goes above water on her birthday, a certain prince catches her eyes and now she seeks an immortal soul. However, unknown tragedy befalls on the young mermaid.

Warning: angst. mentions of death.

Word Count: 3,984

A/N: This is based on Hans Andersen’s version. Had to tweak some details to make it more appropriate lol. I’ve been so sad lately I don’t feel like writing smut for a while.

Grandmama was always there for you and your five sisters. Grandmama says that when a mermaid reaches the age of 18, she would be able to swim up to the surface and explore.

“When you have reached your eighteenth year,” said grandmama, “you will have permission to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns.”

You’ve watched your sisters do it. One by one they’d go up and come back down to tell their experience.

“I saw a ship! It was big and all I could hear was the humans talk!” One of your sisters said.

The Sea King loved his daughters so much that he gave them each individually a garden. Ever since your sisters went up ashore, they’d collect human objects and store them in their gardens.

But you? You didn’t.

Your sea garden was adorned with flowers. All varieties of what the ocean could provide. But right at the center of your garden, stood a statue of a boy.

The white porcelain glowing under the sea’s light, showcasing the broad shoulders, a sharp square jaw as his eyes looked straight ahead. The statue was beautiful.

When your 18th birthday came up, you were granted permission to go up the surface and see the world beyond the sea for yourself. It was winter time and the sea was green. Icebergs floating around as ships passed by.

“Well, now, you are grown up,” said Grandmama, “so you must let me adorn you like your other sisters.”

Grandmama adorned your hair with white lilies and eight oysters to your tail.

“But they hurt me so,” you said as you felt the pinch of the oysters close in on your scales.

“Pride must suffer pain,” she replied as she swam back to get a good look at you. The oysters added royalty to your rank as princess. The white lilies made your hair stand out as they were as big as pearls.

“Farewell,” she said before letting you swim away.

As you swam up to the surface, you instantly felt the emptiness of what is called air. Sun had just set as your head made it out of the surface. Your hair stuck to your skin as your eyes marveled the sky. The gold and orange colors of the clouds being quite the sight as the waters were calm at this time. But, at the corner of your eye, you spotted a ship.

At first, you didn’t believe your sisters. Ships could float? You’d wonder. They always ended up shipwrecked at the bottom and you were sure that maybe humans were odd.

But to your surprise, your sisters were all right. The ship was giant and you could hear make voices scream and shout at they partied. The boat was decorated with royal artifacts, gold embedded on the railing of the ship and other shiny items you weren’t sure what they were.

You swam close to the ship and through a small peephole, you noticed a young prince. It was the statue in your garden!

Your eyes widened and you instantly felt your heart beat faster. Hands gripping tightly around the hardened wood-boards as you fell in love. His blonde hair swaying with the wind as it had become nighttime. His icy blue eyes in small a crescent as he smiled and laughed with his crew. His smile, the pearly white teeth shinning bright as diamonds. He was magnificent. You couldn’t help but admire the young prince.

But soon, the waves of the ocean began to run rampant against the sides of the ship. Slowly rocking it side to side as a storm was approaching. Darks clouds encapsulated what was once a beautiful and bright night. Flashes of white resonated against the sky as sounds of thunder could be heard.

You saw as the sailors ran to their posts around the deck, trying their best to keep the boat from tilting and rolling over. The prince showed up and helped around as best as he could.

However hard they tried to keep the ship from topping over, the ship began to sink as the rain poured down. Thunder crashing against one of the flags, igniting it on fire. The boat rocked mercilessly and soon all sailors fell into the ocean.

You were delighted when you say the prince fall into the ocean, thinking he’d finally join you. But to your dismay, you remembered he was human and he couldn’t live under water with you.

And so you jumped back into the ocean and swam towards where his body was sinking.

His eyes were closed as his body slowly sank lower and lower until your hands wrapped around his torso and you began to pull him up. You swam your hardest as you pulled the prince up shore, into a temple.

Morning came soon as you remained by the prince’s side on the shore. Your lips softly planted a kiss on his forehead as you brushed his wet blonde hair back, admiring his beauty as he was still unconscious.

“He’s so… beautiful,” you whispered to yourself.

Church bells rang and you quickly swam back into the ocean, hiding behind a rock as you stayed to watch over the prince. Upon hearing the voice of a girl, your curiosity got piqued and you saw that a group of women panicked and quickly aided the prince.

The prince woke up and smiled at the girls, not knowing that you were the one who saved him. This made you unhappy.

You watched as the girls brought the prince inside the church and you couldn’t help but feel heartbroken. You sorrowfully swam back into the ocean, wishing the prince had seen you and acknowledged your effort.

Your sisters asked you what you saw but you kept your mouth shut. Days passed and you’d swim back to the shore where you left the prince, hoping to see him once more.

Your garden outgrew since that day after you’ve stopped attending to it, relenting in your own sorrow as you kept coming back to the marble statue. Flinging your arms around him as you pretended it was the prince’s warm skin.

The pain was too much that you told one of your sisters but of course, she’d told the other sisters about your fancy.

However, one princess had a friend who had seen the prince’s palace. And so your sister took you up to the surface and showed where his castle stood.

You’d watch the prince as you sat on a rock in the ocean ever since she showed you his castle. You’d watch him through the windows as he went about his day.

But he just didn’t know about you. About how you had saved his life. About how you had kissed him.

Your curiosity for humans only increased the longer you sat by the rocks on the shore and observed the prince and the sailors. You wanted to know more about them and what they do. You wanted to be able to experience so many things. But could you?

“If human beings are not drowned,” you asked grandmama, “can they live forever? do they never die as we do here in the sea?”

“Yes,” replied grandmama, “they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water, and behold all the land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never see.”

“Why have not we an immortal soul? I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars,” you asked.

“You must not think of that,” she replied, “we feel ourselves to be much happier and much better off than human beings.”

“So I shall die,” you said, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”

“No,” said the old woman, “unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish’s tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome.”

Looking down at your tail, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was a waste. An end to things. You didn’t want to stop loving him but could you even do so in the first place?

There a ball going on the palace but you found yourself away from the party and in your garden, admiring the statue of the prince you so wish you could love.

But- not all was lost.

“He is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend, and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are dancing in my father’s palace, I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always been so much afraid, but she can give me counsel and help.”

The sea witch was one of the most powerful sea beings known to the ocean floor. Living through neighborhoods of whirlpools and populated seaweeds, you finally had made your way to the witch’s house. Made of bones of the remnants of shipwrecks.

“I know what you want,” said the sea witch; “it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish’s tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul.”

She said as she felt you walk into her home.

“You are but just in time,” said the witch; “for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you.”

“Yes, I will.”

“But think again,” said the witch, “for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father’s palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves.”

“I will do it.”

“But I must be paid also,” said the witch, “and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword.”

“But if you take away my voice,” you asked the sea witch, “what is left for me?”

“Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man’s heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught.”

“It shall be.”

The sea witch concocted the potion and with a switch motion, she cut your tongue and dropped it in her fiery cauldron. She mixed until she had poured the potion into the bottle.

However, she had warned you about the dangers that would come from swimming up to the surface with your new body. The pain and pressure of it all.

You took the draught and with speed, swam up to the surface and drank the potion. It felt as if you had been stabbed. You felt your tail openly split into two but the pain became so unbearable that you had fallen unconscious on the shore.

As you woke up when the sun shined down on you, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your body. You looked down and saw that you had legs!

The sea witch wasn’t kidding!

Before you, stood the prince. His blonde hair swaying from the wind as his blue eyes stared down at you. He offered his hand to help you up and you gladly took it.

“Who are you and where do you come from,” he asked

But not being able to talk let you to keep those questions unanswered.

The prince didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he had helped you up by wrapped an arm around your waist and taking you back to his castle where the servants dressed you in silk robes.

One particular day, you decided to try and capture the prince’s heart. There was performance happening in the court, people were singing and dancing as the prince watched it all along with the king and queen.

But then you raised your hand and volunteered to be the next person to perform. The music played as your feet dragged along the floor gracefully. Your dance movements capturing the prince’s attention, he became enchanted with you.

And ever since, the prince has granted you permission to stay with him. You’d go on adventures together through the woods and mountains. He was growing fond of you and took you wherever he wanted.

But even so, your feet hurt. It felt as if you’ve been stepping on glass shards or blades all the time. It was painful but you bared with it.

One night, after the palace had gone to bed, you went to shore to meet your sisters who were all sad that you had chosen to become human and never see them again. But that didn’t stop them from visiting you every night.

You fell more in love with the prince.

But he didn’t love you enough to make you his wife.

“You are dear to me,” said the prince; “for you have the best heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple, where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will never part.”

It was cruel. He didn’t love you like you loved him but he still wanted you around.

Days passed and his parents had told him he needed to marry for the sake of a political alliance between their kingdom and another.

I must travel,” he had said to you; “I must see this beautiful princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes.”

He then brought his lips to your lips and kissed you softly.

The town was beautiful. A kingdom that you had never seen before. As the king entered the parlance to see the king, you followed behind and marveled at the foreign castle.

The king and the prince patiently waited for the princess to arrive, many have said that the princess had been raised and educated in a church.

And then she arrived.

She had short black hair and pale skin, her eyes so beautiful and her lips rosy as she walked towards the king. The prince was shocked at seeing the girl who had saved him.

It was you,” said the prince, “who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach,”

He ran up to her and hugged up with all his might. His soon to be bride…

Your heart broke. He was to be married tomorrow morning which meant that you’d die. You had failed to capture the prince’s heart but did you even have a chance at all?

It was the morning of the wedding and the altar had been decorated. All the guests sat as they waited for the bride and groom to enter. What was supposed to be a joyous day became your last day.

You didn’t listen to the festive music nor did you pay attention to anyone talking. Because all you could focus on was him.

You mustered up the courage to dance along the crew even though your feet hurt. But it was nothing compared to the pain in your heart.

This evening was going to be the last and you wanted to spend it all with the prince.

To the one you had sacrificed yourself for.

The prince kissed his bride so dearly and both of them scurried off to sleep on the same tent. Leaving you alone with the silence of the night.

You neared the edge of the railing, waiting for the sun to rise. The first ray of sunlight would be your sign of death. However, you saw your sisters climb up the water and speak to you.

“We have given our hair to the witch,” said they, “to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish’s tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch’s scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die.”

You held the knife in your hands and glance at the tent where the prince and his bride slept in. Upon opening the curtains, you couldn’t do it.

So, you leaned down to kiss the prince’s forehead as he muttered the name of his bride in his sleep.

It would be cruel to take this man away from his love and you weren’t cruel.

You threw the knife at the sea before throwing yourself off as well. Your body turned into foam on the surface of water.

Your spirit floats up into the air and you are being joined by the spirits of other mermaids and the daughters of the air. Your feet hurt no more as you felt yourself become freed from the pain of both your legs and heart.

“Where am I?” You asked

“Among the daughters of the air,” answered one of them. “A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul.”

The prince and his bride began to look for you but upon seeing the foam on the ocean, they knew you had thrown yourself into your demise, saddened by your death and disappearance. Kissing them goodbye, tears collected in your eyes as you felt the warm embrace of the sun. Sealing your death.

“After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven,” said she. “And we may even get there sooner,” whispered one of her companions. “Unseen we can enter the houses of men, where there are children, and for every day on which we find a good child, who is the joy of his parents and deserves their love, our time of probation is shortened. The child does not know, when we fly through the room, that we smile with joy at his good conduct, for we can count one year less of our three hundred years. But when we see a naughty or a wicked child, we shed tears of sorrow, and for every tear a day is added to our time of trial!”

[quillthrillswriting]

sooo.... anyone else ever wondered how different ATLA would have been if aang had been frozen at age 16 instead of age 12?

yeah... me too 😌 my multichap kataang fanfic "the teenager in the iceberg" follows the events of the show, but with only aang aged up, while everyone else remains their canon age.

to put it clearly, katara falls first, and aang falls harder 🤭 (and they both get a lil jealous hehe)

enjoy the excerpts from chapter 6!!! (the jet episode!!)

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“We’ve got a big plan to score big against the Fire Nation.�� Jet kept his face straight ahead, his hooks swinging, and Katara could see the bit of wheat he still held between his teeth over his shoulder. 

“Sounds…big.” Aang said the words somewhat sarcastically, earning a choked giggle from Katara, but Jet didn’t quite seem to catch the nuance of it all.

“Oh, it will be.” He hacked aside a final overhanging branch. “Here we are.”

“...A bunch of holes in the ground?” Aang shifted his weight and raised an eyebrow, only to immediately drop to a defensive position when Katara swatted him, hard, on the arm and gave him a glare. He raised his hands in a “don’t shoot” position, and schooled his features into neutrality by the time Jet turned around. 

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Aang paused his movements at this, letting the water he was bending drop to his feet, coursing through cracks in the rock floor beneath them. “Katara. You can’t genuinely believe that. Sokka is an idiot, but he’s not dumb.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That Sokka can be goofy, sure, but I trust him and his perception, 100%. He doesn’t miss things. If anything, he sees and notices things most people don’t. If he doesn’t trust Jet….” Aang sighed, resuming his bending forms. “I just feel like you’re getting too close to him. Jet, I mean.”

“And what would the problem be with that?” Katara could hear her voice rising, her temper flaring.

“He’s a bad guy, Katara.”

“You don’t know that!”

“He hurt you!” Katara shut her mouth at the raw emotion in Aang’s voice. He was breathing heavily now, his fists clenching as wind whipped around them. He bit his lip, took in some deep breaths. “He hurt you,” he repeated, this time more gently. “I didn’t protect you quickly enough.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Tonight was different. She still couldn’t sleep, that much was the same, but as she rose to drill her forms by the river, she felt a hand clamp around her forearm. She almost screamed, but when she whirled around to face her would-be attacker, she exhaled in a whoosh, relieved that it was only Aang.

“My bad,” he whispered, cringing at his choice to grab her arm without warning. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Katara dropped back down onto her sleeping bag, neatly crossing her legs. Aang did his best to ignore that she was only in her wrappings now, that the moonlight was sparkling on her bare skin, like a spirit in a painting of old. “I was just…wanting some air.”

“C’mon, Katara, don’t even try. You’re an awful liar.” He flashed a grin, and in the dark, the starlight set his teeth aglow. “I know you’ve been bending at night.”

Katara blanched at this. “How?”

“Light sleeper?” Aang shrugged. “Plus, you’re not great at sneaking out, either. You’ve stepped on me pretty much every time you’ve gotten up to practise.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“I, um…” Aang trailed off, and even in the dark, she could tell he was trying to hide a blush, could tell he was embarrassed. “I got you something.” He quickly backtracked, his voice somewhat frantic. “If you want. You might not. Want it, that is. And you don’t have to, and I’m not sure if it’ll even-”

“Aang.” Katara caught his hands in hers, looking into his eyes earnestly. “What is it?”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

♥ the rest of the (ongoing) fic can be found here!! ->

happy reading! <3

[umgeorge]

What Does an F1 Driver Do Between Races?

A racetrack might be the natural habitat of a Formula 1 driver, but making the most of the time away from the asphalt is also crucial when it comes to maximising performance. From debriefs and data digging, partner days and downtime, there's no time to take your foot off the pedal. We spoke to George to find out everything he gets up to between Grand Prix weekends. "The racetrack is the tip of the iceberg. The work that goes on at the factory is so vitally important. That's where everyone is aware of the car's performance," he explains. There's no gentle ease into the week. Drivers will often head straight back into the simulator, not to look ahead to the next race, but to go back over the previous weekend and see what did and didn't correlate between the virtual and real world. It's a schedule that doesn't always agree with a driver's sleeping pattern, either. "Take Australia as an example," says George. "I landed back in London at midnight. But I'll stay on a more Eastern time schedule, rather than shift back to GMT and then do nine hours to Japan in a couple of weeks." Win or lose, the best time to debrief will always be as soon after the event as possible. Sitting down with the team and talking about what could have gone better and how to ensure things will be different at future races is the priority. It's not all about screens, numbers, and data. It's a chance to come together and bounce thoughts and ideas off of a wide range of team members, be that the latest developments in the wind tunnel or an honest discussion with an engineer. "We'll always sit down and have breakfast and lunch together," George adds. Data analysis can take a few days to be completed. When it has, usually around Wednesday or Thursday, post-race weekend, there's a deep dive to be done. This is a full-blown catch up that allows a driver to truly digest the numerical facts and figures behind race performance. Formula 1 is a constant development. Dwelling too long on the past isn't an option and it's important to know as soon as possible what you're looking to try at the next event, but building a picture of what to try at the next race often starts during the race before. Drivers are so in tune with being on a racetrack that they may notice a performance trend at one circuit that will work well at another. "You may have just completed a quali lap somewhere, and you realise that what you have learned might be good to try at a race later in the year," reveals George. "In the world we live in, eyes are always forward." In between, the physical exertion doesn't relent. A driver will mix between gym sessions at home or at the factory. And it's not light work. "I'll usually do a double session every day when I get home, right up until the Monday of the next race week. From that point of view the week goes by pretty quickly," says George. More often than not, there may be some time on set behind a camera, carrying out important filming or marketing days with our partners. And what about downtime? Switching off while the engines are off is so important. Disconnecting from the world is a crucial part of a high profile athlete's itinerary. Whether it's a walk or just a catch up with friends or family, the importance of stepping outside that motorsport bubble for just a few moments cannot be underestimated. By now we're back into a race week. Prep done, the adrenaline and anticipation of racing is slowly building. A return to the racetrack beckons, and a Formula 1 driver can feel truly at home once more.

[genericpuff]

Cait comp'd her book to The Locked Tomb. THE LOCKED TOMB COMBINED WITH LORE OLYMPUS. NO. NO NO NO. IN WHAT WORLD ARE THESE TWO IN THE SAME SENTENCE. I NEED TO SCREAM.

Apologies in advance, but these are two polar opposite series and it's a joke Cait thinks she can combine the two without Gideon Nav manifesting in her apartment and throwing hands. Oh my god.

I won't try to do spoilers here because I think you would personally vibe with the series, it's right up your alley and I highly recommend the audiobooks, especially while drawing. It's currently three books and the last one (the fourth book) should be out in Fall 2024. The Locked Tomb is starkly gothic and dark (gruesome death, resurrection, body horror, weird twins, turbo cancer (an actual quote from the books), and so much more), full to the brim with horror, sci-fi, and modern-day political commentary, and is apologetically queer as fuck. I'm talking lesbian enemies to friends to lovers, I'm talking Maori-coded rugby player who loves to talk about her porn magazines while trying to keep her homeless chihuahua of a girlfriend from getting herself killed (said chihuahua controls skeletons), I'm talking using clever ways to sneak in memes, I'm talking loving the side characters as much as you love the leads and the author loves them all too, I'm talking Catholic guilt but make it sexy and gay, I'm talking a literal ghost shows up with a fucking gun. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. It's a series you need to re-read multiple times to try and figure out every little detail and people to this day are still finding out foreshadowing from the first book alone. There is no random lines or dropped ideas, every little detail is planned out and connects. It's great.

To compare a series made by an insanely smart and openly queer woman (who is also from New Zealand, shout out to Tamsyn Muir) to a series that obsesses over a straight couple down to making it a Blue Boy and Pink Girl, a series that acts like putting in queer characters are a chore, a series that treats sexual assault like a minor inconvenience at worst, a series that can't even plan a week ahead much less years, a series that is written by an immature woman-child like Rachel, is so offensive to me.

Well damnnn I'll take this as a glowing recommendation! It def sounds like something I'd enjoy. I've been wanting to get more into audiobooks so maybe I'll make The Locked Tomb my first stop ;3 If/when I do get around to it, I'll definitely let y'all know my thoughts! <3

[wellofdean]

Thinking more about this gifset from ep 12x09, The Future, and just want to say a thing about what the word 'subtext' means, because it sometimes feels like what people think it means and what it actually means are not aligned.

So, as a starting point, subtext is defined as "the implied meaning or underlying message of a narrative that is not stated directly. It is the unexpressed thought, feeling, or emotional throughline that lies beneath the text."

The scene in the gifset linked above rife with subtext, and it's really very obvious. But first, there are several layers to the text. There's the visual: Sam looking concerned, Dean working on Cas's truck. There's also the context of the other events in the episode. In brief: Cas returns to the bunker after being out of touch for so long that Dean was worried, and angry with him; Cas tried to return the mixtape Dean gave him and Dean refused to accept it; Cas tells Dean he feels like he just keeps failing and Dean stresses that they need to work together; Cas 'plays him' and steals the Colt from under his pillow; Dean threatens to 'kick his feathered ass' but notably does not follow through. Right before this scene Dean throws Cas the keys to the Impala like it's a totally automatic for him to do (it's not!), only to have Kelly drive off with his Baby, and with Cas.

Here's the transcript:

Sam: How did this happen? Dean: ( Scoffs ) What? The lying? The Heaven plan? Or the fact that I'm working on this stupid truck? Sam: No, I mean, what's wrong with Cas? Dean: Well, he hasn't exactly had a banner year. I mean, think about it. Between Lucifer... (huffs out a breath) ...killing Billie, Ramiel, everything's been blowing up in his face... And he's so desperate for a win right now, he can't even see straight. Go ahead and give it a try. (Engine starts)

So the text of this scene is a combination of what we see, the context in the episode, the wider context of the show and relationships, and the lines.

Here are some examples of the subtext in this scene:

Dean has given some thought to how Cas is feeling.

Dean understands that people make questionable decisions when they are feeling down and defeated.

Dean has been there, and done that.

Dean sympathizes and empathizes with Cas.

Dean's frustrated, but Cas is still family to him.

Dean cares about Cas and wants to help him.

Sam does not quite know what to make of Cas's behavior.

Sam knows that Dean will know better than he does what is motivating Cas to do what he is doing.

Dean is emotionally closer to Cas than Sam is.

Sam relies on Dean's reaction to Cas's recent actions to know how to react himself.

Dean wants Sam to understand and sympathize with Cas, and not judge him too harshly.

There is much more one could add to this, but nothing I've said above is the least bit controversial; it's nothing more than a basic understanding of the content of the text, and it is very clearly communicated. Understanding these things in this scene is not rocket science, and everything I mentioned above is indisputably there as unspoken but clear emotional throughline in the text.

Subtext is not a mysterious puzzle, or a ghost floating around in a text that is invented out of the audience's desires, it is the actual emotional force and content of it. Ernest Hemingway is a long way from being my favourite writer, but he was, nevertheless, a heavyweight champion of subtext. He called it the 'iceberg theory,' or 'theory of omission': the text (words themselves) present only a small part of what is happening in it, but it is important to note that subtext is part of the text like the unseen part of an iceberg is part of an iceberg. A text without subtext would be very boring indeed, and would leave nothing for our minds to do when we process it. It's difficult to imagine any narrative text that doesn't have it.

I think that a lot of the time we say things like: I want Destiel to be explicit, not 'just subtext', but look at what is communicated via subtext above! Virtually everything that's important about the scene! Subtext is not imaginary thing the reader adds, it is part of the intent of the text, and Destiel is more explicit than this in the text in a lot of ways because it is the bones the text is hanging on -- it may not be spoken, but it is part of the structure of the text, and that's because of things like the way Ruby and Sam's story parallels Dean and Cas in season 4, or the way Dean's entire motivation in purgatory is Cas, and when he gets back from purgatory, he can think of little else, or the way Cas very obviously parallels Colette in the MOC arc and there is no Abel, or the entire widower arc, or the fact that main emotional arc of season 15 is Cas and Dean's break up, reconciliation, Cas's confession and finally Dean's despair and willingness to just die in the final episode. There's a lot of that that simply doesn't make any sense without Destiel as a structural element in the narrative.

There are so many ways in which the whole story is BUILT AROUND the assumption that Cas is Dean's strongest bond and partner, and around how important Cas is to Dean's emotional life, which is why I think it's often more accurate to say that Destiel is CONTEXT, because it's actually the reason why we understand the subtext of so many scenes and arcs in the story.

The fact that Cas loves Dean is not subtext, it is explicitly stated, and the fact that Dean loves Cas is not explictly stated, but it is present in the text at so many levels, that to call it 'just subtext' or imagine that it is some kind of unacknowledged, unavowed ghost in the narrative is not accurate. There is no way to understand a thing like Dean's devastated face at Castiel's pyre, or why Castiel leaving in season 15 feels like a divorce without it. Destiel is the emotional force of it, and moreover, it's the part of the iceberg you can't see because it's underwater, but it is fucking there, and IT WILL FUCK YOU UP.

[experthiese]

@skullkxd asked: HOLDS OUT THEIR PILLOWCASE. They’re in their wall-e Halloween costume and giving Lupin the biggest eyes. “Treat.” No trick option for Lupin, because he’d definitely take it.

The distinct lack of the usual two options doesn't escape Lupin's attention, though he chooses not to mention it. Ingenuity is a wonderful thing, a trait that'll carry them far if they keep learning how and when to use it, and he's impressed they've thought far enough ahead to be wary of his usual tricks.

...Still, maybe that's underselling them a bit. He's been their Mr. Lu long enough that they've surely gotten some good readings on his character, even if they are still just scratching away at the tip of the iceberg.

❝ Ahh, ❞ he says, holding up his hands in defeat, ❝ looks like ya got me good. Treat it is. ❞

Into their pillowcase drops a generous handful of long candies, each one wrapped in yellow paper sealed with a twist at the end.

❝ Carambar, straight from Kalos itself. Lemme know what you think. ❞

[paisholotus]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Yanna's Pov

My sources have told me that the Fire Nation is coming for the Northern Water Tribe. I have dreaded this day, but we are prepared for whatever gets thrown our way. For as long as I can remember the Fire Nation has tried countless of times to take over the Northern water tribe. They've broken our sister tribe and killed all the water benders from the Southern Tribe before I was even born. It broke my heart when my mom told me about what happened.

For centuries the moon warriors have never shown themselves in the public eye. But when the Fire Nation strikes it'll be up close and personal.

I've also been told that the Avatar along with Sokka and Katara are here in the north, looking for a water bending master. 

I left my room and made my way down the front palace steps to the training room. My first command informed me that Admiral Zhao was heading north with a large force. As a result, my warriors had to be prepared.

 

I entered the room and stood next to my mother, watching my sister and the warriors practice. My new warriors have performed admirably, and they have excellent water-bending form. I only hope they're ready.

This is also the first time my sister will fight in battle. I'm nervous for her, but I have faith in Imiq that she'll be fine.

"How are you feeling, my love?" My mother asked, taking her gaze away from the warriors, a small smile on her face. I sighed and crossed my arms, saying, "I'm confident we'll be fine. We're strong, and they're prepared. I just can't help but feel..." She cupped my cheeks and kissed my forehead as I paused.

"You're afraid. It's also okay to be scared. A great leader is always concerned about their people. But you turn your fears into strength; you've done well, you've trained well, and your father would be proud of you. Mighty Moon Warrior, his little warrior." She had a teary expression on her face. 

My eyes watered and I leaned over kissing her cheek, and smiled looking back at my warriors, holding my head high.

The Fire Nation is going to regret coming to my door step.

Narrative

"I’m not one to complain, but can't Appa fly any higher?" Sokka said, groaning. Aang turned around to look at sokka with an angry expression on his face.

"I have an idea, why don't we all get on your back and you can fly us to the North Pole?" Aang yelled. Sokka scoffed and turned his back to Aang. "I'd love to! Climb on everyone" he wiggles his butt at everyone, "Sokka's ready for takeoff!"

Momo jump up on Sokka in response to his invitation.

"Look, we're all just a little tired and cranky because we've been flying for two days straight." Katara said, trying to calm them down. "And for what? We can't even find the Northern Water Tribe. There's nothing up here." He said, throwing his hands up, plopping back down .

Suddenly a noise is heard up ahead. Ice is moving rapidly towards Appa. Aang who screams and pulls Appa’s reigns to starboard. Appa banks right and avoids the ice, but almost tips everyone off the saddle, who hangs on for dear life. Appa then banks left as another jet of ice erupts out of the waves, but this one slams into Appa’s underside, who drops in an uncontrolled spin into the water. Out of the icebergs several ornate wooden skiffs come to surround Appa. They are manned by people in water tribe garb.

"They're waterbenders! We found the Water Tribe!" Katara said, smiling. "There it is!" Aang yelled, excitedly.

They came closer to an ice wall with towers and turrets.

"The Northern Water Tribe..." Katara said, slowly with an astonished look on her face. "We're finally here..." sokka said, looking relieved. One of the water tribe skiffs, where the waterbender crew waterbends in unison. The city wall, where the waterbenders have removed a semi-circular opening to reveal a tunnel that leads into the city. One of the waterbenders on the skiff in the foreground.

He motions them forward and Appa swims in. Inside the tunnel as Appa swims in, they looked to the lock where the tunnel opens into. Switch to an overhead view showing that the lock is square and that the waterbenders line the tops of the lock's four walls.

The three sides of the lock not adjacent to the main wall have water behind them almost to the height of the city wall. The waterbenders open sluice gates along the three walls of the lock to raise the water level. The wall opposite from the main city wall begins to lower itself, ultimately to free a path for Appa to continue.

"I can't believe how many waterbenders live up here!" Katara said, shaking Aang excitedly. "We'll find a master to teach us, no problem" Aang said, with a confident look on his face.

The lock wall dropping beneath the water line, with a few boats waiting in the channel beyond as Appa swims out. Aang, Sokka, & Katara sat on Appa, smiling and looking around them in wonder at the overhead panorama look of the city.

It is made of ice and is breathtakingly beautiful. It also has three interior walls in addition to the main city walls. All the way in the back is apparently some sort of citadel or temple. The roof of one of the buildings in the city, an older man and a young boy watch as Appa follows a Water Tribe skiff through the canals. Soon more people join them.

In fact, as they go, small crowds of people begin to gawk at them from houses and foot bridges. Aang waves at them as they pass. The city is loaded with beautiful streams, waterfalls and fountains.

"This place is beautiful." Katara said, smiling at the people. And marveling at the waterbenders.

- Time Skip-

Chief Arnook standing to address the crowd.  "Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe, and they have brought with them someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now." He paused, looking into the crowd, that was waiting for him to continue. "THE AVATAR!"

The crowd cheers. "We also celebrate my daughter's 16th birthday!" He backs up to reveal the beautiful girl with the white hair, flanked by two attendants, walking up to the table. They all bow, smiling. "Princess Yue is now of marrying age." He said, proudly walking away so she could speak.

"Thank you, father. May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during these troubled times." She said, bowing at the people with a smile.  "Now, Master Pakku and his students will perform!" Arnook said, clapping his hands together.

The Chief motions towards three men who now stand on the dais in front of the fountain opposite the dignitaries' table. The center man is clearly the eldest with a bald head, but long white hair on the sides of his head and down his back. The begin waterbending water from three enormous amphorae in front of them. The crowd begins to cheer. Aang and Katara who looked at each in utter delight while they clap.

-Time Skip-

Yanna's pov

My mother, sister, and I waited for Arnook and his wife to enter their room. They had just finished watching the water show and would be going to bed soon. But we had something important to talk about.

 

We wore our gear and mask covers to avoid being seen. We turned our attention to the door after hearing the handle rattle. Arnook and his wife walked in, said good night to their guards, and shut the door.

We emerged from hiding, causing his wife to scream, and Arnook protectively slid his wife behind him. "WHO ARE YOU?" He yelled at us. We approached them, but Arnook remained firm. 

We removed our mask covers, and they gasped, and Arnook stumbled a little, clutching his wife. I could tell they were holding their breath when I looked at them.

My mother approached them, and they fell to their knees. My mother stood in front of Arnook, sternly looking at them. "On your feet, Chief!" He quickly stood up and stared at her, while his wife looked at me and my sister with teary eyes.

"They're coming, Arnook," my mother said as she walked closer to him. 

[socialoutsider1a]

"Let's imagine. If you glimpsed the future and were frightened by what you saw, what would you do with that information? You would go to…who? Politicians? Captains of industry? And how would you convince them? Data? Facts? Good luck. The only facts they won't challenge are the ones that keep the wheels greased and the dollars rolling in. Now, what if…what if there was a way of skipping the middleman, putting the critical news directly into everyone's heads? The probability of widespread annihilation kept going up. The only way to stop it was to show it, to scare people straight. What reasonable human being wouldn't be galvanized by the potential destruction of everything they've ever known or loved? To save civilization, I would show its collapse. But how do you think this vision was received? How do you think people responded to the prospect of imminent doom? They gobbled it up, like a chocolate éclair. They didn't fear their demise, they repackaged it. It can be enjoyed as video games, as TV shows, books, movies. The entire world wholeheartedly embraced the apocalypse, and sprinted towards it with gleeful abandon. Meanwhile, your Earth was crumbling all around you. You've got simultaneous epidemics of obesity and starvation! Explain that one! Bees and butterflies start to disappear, the glaciers melt, algae blooms all around you, the coal mine canaries are dropping dead, and you WON'T TAKE THE HINT! In every moment, there is the possibility of a better future, but you people won't believe it. And because you won't believe it, you won't do what is necessary to make it a reality. So you dwell on this terrible future and you resign yourselves to it, for one reason: because that future doesn't ask anything of you today. So, yes, you saw the iceberg and warned the Titanic, but you all just steered for it anyway, full steam ahead. Why? Because you want to sink. You gave up. That's not the Monitor's fault. It's yours".

(David Nix, the Mayor of Tomorrowland and the main antagonist of the film who's played by English actor Hugh Laurie).

[quillthrillswriting]

has anyone ever wondered just how different aang and zuko's first battle would be if aang had been frozen at age 16...?

the following is an excerpt from my draft of ch2 of my new fanfic, "the teenager in the iceberg" on ao3. happy reading!!!

---

Because before she could speak, before Aang could speak, horns blared through the crisp air outside. Horns the entire village knew, horns that prompted screams from children. 

Another Fire Nation raid.

Aang didn’t pause, didn’t let himself hesitate. Katara didn’t blame him. She was sure that if he thought about it for more than a few moments, he’d crumble entirely, and considering the situation they were now in, they couldn’t afford for Aang to sort through everything.

Katara didn’t realise how dire a situation it was until the three of them had reached the gates to the village, and Katara watched as the hull broke through centuries old ice as if it were butter. Sokka ran ahead as the bow of the ship split open in a rush of steam and machinery. Katara felt the blood drain from her face as she saw who stepped out. The Fire Nation prince. The one who had been scarred by his own father. He was here, in her village. Terror began to set in.

Prince Zuko wrinkled his nose at Sokka as though he was nothing more than an inanimate obstacle in his way, and shoved him aside, his soldiers following suit. 

“I have come here for the Avatar. For my honour,” Zuko snarled, his words a sharp, lethal weapon. “I know he’s here. I saw his beacon. He should be an older man? Master of all four elements?” His eyes swept through the crowd, passing right over Aang as his gaze narrowed on Gran and the other village elders. Katara felt Aang tense beside her.

With no warning, Zuko and his soldiers blasted a wave of fire straight for the grandmothers and grandfathers who had huddled together. 

And their fire was met by a gust of wind so powerful that it sucked the very oxygen out of the air, extinguishing their flame before it got anywhere near their targets. 

Zuko whirled around, his voice contorting in anger at the sight of Aang, standing tall and proud with his staff in one hand and a constantly spinning sphere of wind in the other. 

“You?” Zuko spat, seething. “I’ve trained for years to face the Avatar. You’re just a teenager.”

Aang, somewhat caught off guard, leaned back, raising an eyebrow in confusion, a teasing grin on his face once he’d realised that he’d managed to bother the Fire Prince himself. 

“...S- so are you...?"

Zuko straightened, fire flaring in his eyes, his fists tightening as the air around them began to sizzle and steam. “A child. A child managed to outmanoeuvre me. A mere boy was running circles around the entire crew I command for years.”

“No, a teenager. C’mon, give me my credit, I had a whole growth spurt and everything, do I really still look like a child to you?” Aang put on a falsely sincere tone, venom behind his words as he bent his knees and tensed his body into a defensive stance. “You hurt this village, or its people, and you’ll see just how much more than ‘just a teenager’ I am.”

Zuko scoffed, fire again lighting up his palm. “Big talk for a pacifist monk.”

“Sure, as a monk, I won’t start a fight.” Aang grinned. “But I can finish them.”

---

♥ check out the first chapter of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->

[blackicephantom]

Genshin Impact - Wrath of a God 5

Finish Line! We did it!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Childe struggled back to his feet and took slow steps back, because not even the battle hungry Eleventh Harbinger wanted to stand in between two Archons about to fight it out. Especially if one out of those two was the oldest of them.

As swift as he could he retreated towards the wall far away from her Majesty and tried to be ready for almost anything.

Both Gods watched each other, blazing gold against frostbitten blue. The Tsaritsa was the first to move. “I know exactly who you are, Morax. And I have to say that I’m disappointed.” Snowflakes started to dance around her hand, forming a sharp blade made of ice. Widening his stance just slightly, Zhongli replied coldly. “I’m sad to say the same about you.”

There was a clash of  the elements and at first it looked as if they were on equal footing but it didn’t take long for the rhythm to change. Even if his dear Queen had fought many of her battles by herself, it was  clear that she was just no match for the God of war that stood before her. For every step she took forward, the brunette would push her back three. For every wound she tried to inflict, he would cut her four fold. 

Embers flew when their blades crashed into each other, both weapons glowing with unnatural lights. The Tsaritsa rushed up ahead, building frozen steps to gain height, before jumping over the older one's head and swinging her sword down. But Zhongli anticipated that move and braced himself. He held his spear up above and absorbed the hit, only to push her away mere millimeters and then sent a geo steele straight into her stomach. The construct hit her damn hard and even as an archon she had to cough and fight for air. Before she could completely recover though, the older already sent his spear flying, the blade barely missing her face and instead cutting her veil. Right in the next moment he came crashing after his weapon, the female just fast enough to roll to the side and climbing to her feet. 

Beneath her heels Tartaglia could see the clear shimmer of a Cryo emblem and with a swiping move of her hand big icicles, almost freaking icebergs , shot out from four different directions , with a fifth growing right out of the ground. But that was still not enough.

The older Archon dodged the first two, blocked the next two with two more of his steeles and simply crushed the last one with his bare hand. But the Goddess was not ready to give up yet. “You come here, into my land, my home! And intend to steal from me. Just how far have you fallen Morax?” Cutting apart another set of icicles and stepping through an oncoming shuriken hail said male glared at his fellow god.

“You entered a written agreement, a contract signed in blood, with me and refused to go through with it. Everything was set, arranged to perfection, right to the most important moment. I was ready to overlook your first mistake, having already given over my Gnosis. But then your other Harbinger told me that you won’t fulfill your second part either.” Stepping over the crushed ice he swiftly kicked his Vortex Vanquisher around to stop the ice golems that were starting to climb out of the fallen snow. Following this Zhongli summoned three more of his Geo constructs, so that they circled both Archons. And each `pillar´ gave a soft pulse, until they slowly synced with each other, resonating with the Geo energy they were emitting. 

Childe could see that the mistress of this palace was starting to run out of steam. Even if her hands were still steady, her breath was already quite labored, her  elemental attacks losing strength and her moves losing their grace and finesse. But the insulting part was this: Zhongli was not even out of breath, didn’t even break a sweat and hadn't even summoned his jade shield. Not even once. And he was still unharmed, whilst the Tsaritsa had gathered a good amount of wounds. Towering above her, Morax asked her. “ Now tell me, dear Tsaritsa, who is the fallen one?” 

The ginger couldn’t take his eyes off of that absolute beating his Lady was receiving. With the Geo Lords next swift attack, spears of his element followed the attack's path and cut not only her dress. Next he brought down his blade, crushing the very ground they stood upon when the younger Archon jumped away. But she was unprepared for the spinning spear, almost too slow to parry. And definitely too slow for the next hit from above.

It was like a dance, a very deadly one, that Zhongli led with an iron fist and relentless assault. The Queen's dress was drenched in red, her beautiful face a sweaty grimace and even her noble sword could no longer withstand that overwhelming power it was bombarded with. With their next clash, her blade got chipped, with the one after that it cracked. And with one last powerful kick, it broke.

The impact of said kick sent the woman flying backwards, where she hit the already crumbling wall. Before she could collect herself the orange glowing tip of her opponent's blade buried itself in her still wounded stomach. Screaming she tried to focus, tried to call for her snow lances or ice spears. But everytime she tried the heated steel inside her moved forward, slipping deeper inside her delicate body. Panting she looked up, looking straight into the burning eyes that she , too, once feared. Then her gaze slipped past his towering figure and locked onto the ginger haired male she wanted to keep at all odds. No matter what may happen, she knew she could not win. Not now and probably not even in hundreds of years. Not even with the Anemo Gnosis in her possession.

Suddenly the blade was removed, blood splattering on the ground and her vision blocked by the scaled coat Morax favored over his mortal years. No matter what may happen, she still got one last trick up her sleeve. She clenched her fist and let it fall to the floor, the icy energy traveling fast on the wet and cold ground. But before it could reach its target, a gold glowing shield manifested around the boy, causing it to crash against it and race up towards the ceiling, where it simply crashed and froze. Then she opened her hand again and beckoned to her Harbinger. “Come.” she called oh so sweetly. 

Both males registered fast what she was planning and yet only one seemed actually concerned about it. Ajax felt dread and felt sick, that’s why it took him a few seconds to notice something very important. Even though her Majesty gave him a direct order, he doesn’t have that disgusting feeling of compulsive obedience, that reflexive need to do her bidding. And after she called for him again without the desired outcome, the Cryo Archon came to the same conclusion, which made Morax chuckle.

Tartaglia watched as the consultant stepped back and pushed his spear into the broken ground before putting his hands behind his back. An insult in the face of every warrior and soldier, the demonstration that he no longer perceives you as a thread. “It seems that you have forgotten something else too, my dearest Tsaritsa.” 

His deep voice was gentle, mocking, meant to be soothing and yet to hurt deep.

His fellow Archon didn’t understand. She just couldn’t grasp the meaning behind this.

Full lips pulled themself into a sharp grin, draconian fangs on full display and Childe…. fucking swooned. And by the soft snicker he received Zhongli noticed too.`Ohhhhh Fuck….´ Then these piercing eyes were back on the beaten Queen and explained. “This may be your land, your home. This entire region may be your ice cold domain.” His eyes slitted again, just for a single moment and his face was showing almost sadistic joys when he said the next part. “But even underneath your layers upon layers of ice and snow, rest the everlasting presence of the earth. Which, as we both know, belongs to me.” Another rumble, as if said earth agreed and even Childe had to swallow. Of course it made sense, it was nothing but pure logic. Even if Snezhnaya was known as the frozen land, its cities and even this palace were built on solid ground. No matter how thick the snow may become, the fact remains that the rich earth will wait underneath. 

“You wanted to trick me, twice.” Pale blue lips snapped shut when Zhongli slowly stepped closer.  Suddenly gripped by an instinctual fear the poor Goddess tried to scramble away, backing up even if there was no more room behind her. To make matters even worse for her the other Archons form slowly started to change. His brown clothes turned into a white coat that left nothing to the imagination, leaving his corded, golden veined arms on full display for the young Harbingers hungry eyes. Next were the wide pants that replaced his form fitting ones and Childe, no Ajax, could do nothing but go down on his knees. This was the God he was sent to fight against. This was Morax in all of his Celestia given glory.

Tsaritsa meanwhile was close to hysterics. She knew that Rex Lapis did this on purpose, knew that he wanted to inflict trauma and make her remember times that are better left forgotten.  With every step he took towards her she felt so foolishly young again. Desperate to escape she shook her head, tried to look for one last way out. But the older God was faster than her. An almost burning hand took hold of her chin and made her look up into burning Cor Lapis.

“Last time, you had to renovate and repair two different wings of your castle.” His fingers tightened and his smirk was bone shattering close to obscene. “What shall it be this time?”

Silently sobbing she did the last thing that came to mind. “Please… Please, Morax! No more!”  A low growl was his answer. “So you want the mercy that you have denied one of your own?!”

Tartaglia was floored. There was only one person he could mean with this. 

`Does this mean my prayers were heard?´ The small voice from back then answered him `It does.´

Morax just kept watching as the cold facade of the younger God started to fall away.

Even if it looked rather different, he took no joy in this psychological torture, he was way past these methods. But his fellow Archon had an important lesson to learn. And he would make sure that it stuck. Letting go of the still crying woman, he changed back into his regular clothes and finally turned around so he faced the one he came for. While walking towards him he still talked to the Tsaritsa. “You’ve broken the contract, so you were faced with the wrath of the rock. You’ve tried to trick and steal from me, so you will face the wrath of a God.”

Right in front of Childe the shield broke and Zhongli just picked him up, ignoring his small squeak of surprise and his feeble complaints. With his target secure in his arms he made steps out of steles and started to climb up towards the still frozen roof. Right underneath said roof he switched his precious cargo onto one arm so he could use his other one. He clenched his fist together and then gave the structure above an almost gentle tab, causing the whole archon damned roof to crumble and fall away, so that the clear sky was on display. And Ajax honestly just gave up. He buried his flaming face into the soft fabric of the others trusted coat and let out a rather embarrassing whine that he will deny forever and a day. 

Letting out a rumbled chuckle the taller male looked back down at the fallen god.

“Let this be your lesson and your warning Tsaritsa. As stated in our previous contract, Childe is no longer your vanguard and from now on in my care.”

With these last words the sky above them first darkened, then suddenly lit up as an honest to Celestia and Archon damned meteor descended from the heavens. The former Harbingers eyes nearly fell out of his head at this sight and not even the renewed jade shield could keep away the heat of the falling piece of earth. Just before it hit though, Zhongli took him away. And Tartaglia has to say, even if the circumstances were absolute rubbish, he was content. So he sighed and just cuddled into the solid arms of the Lord of Geo.

Who knew what the next morning would bring and what obstacles lay ahead of them?

_ End _ 

[wolfgene92]

Super Junior: The Last Man Standing

I have been delaying and just paying for subscription in Disney+

I am not mentally and emotionally ready to watch the first , the success , the heartbreak , the pain and the triumphs of that idol that supposed to be replaced in three months group.

It feels so superficial why you remain loyal in a group. Ah! Because I was in that darkest place, that bad thoughts. And that temptation to END it because it's painful.

I remember going to that stage getting my diploma and the person I want to be there so much isn't there.

I did not cry, I keep telling myself...it's okay, your paps here. It's okay even if you missed your brother so much. Don't complain, don't cry, you aren't that special for your mother to be there.

Every success, I undermine and think it's isn't enough, it's so little and normal. Because that's how I feel growing up. You need to constantly follow what they ask you or you get whip , force to kneel down in salt or worst the beans and it's painful but I never cried. It's pride! Endure it!

After graduation in highschool, I cut that black straight hair that my mom's love so much.

That's the extreme thing I did, but you might hear I did drugs or whore myself in my early teen. I mean my mom's believe her friend more that her daughter. And I didn't try to say otherwise. What's the point explaining? When that person you believe would ask you first before accusing you in the phone just right up threatened to just kill you if shes back. But it's okay, you are numb at this point, you deserve that , you aren't really a good daughter. So it's okay! Suck it up!

And when I thought the dark times can't be anymore darker. Life laugh at you throwing the most painful punchline. What you experience it's just the tip of a larger heart wrenching iceberg we called life.

It gets worst , excruciatingly worst but thru this times. I was watching that cringy idol group on suit dancing sorry sorry. And one of the reason why I am here still and not giving up. I promise to buy their album, to have my own money to support them because at those darkest time, I was singing my heart out, laughing so loud and slowly that light penetrates in that crack.

Yes I was broken , but in those cracks I see light sipping through. I found my solace , hope because these group I follow went thru the most heartbreaking event in their life but all of them are so tenacious to stop. They keep going, and so did I, I continue anticipating more pain 😆

Fast-forward , it gets better , it's gets stagnant, and then life whisk you a little bit of obstacle, detour and letting you get lost but you get back up because your compass is set , inside your heart, you only need to look ahead , move forward and bring your annoying mind in the game. Never ever leave it, there is a reason why our brains is higher than our hearts.

If you ask me if I could wish for anything to change , No because this trauma , abuse and pain builds me. It wasn't so bad at all. As I said I'll be okay, it's okay.

I ain't stoping my tears anymore as a grown adult. I cry in a heartbeat both in happiness and sadness.

you will continue to learn, to understand yourself, to stop hating yourself, to heal yourself. Your