#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 !!

[womanofwords]

Everybody's Favourite (Part 6)

Bruce was enjoying a quiet day in the manor with the kids when the nature documentary they'd been watching (courtesy of Damian) got interrupted.

"We interrupt this broadcast to tell you some breaking news, and I do mean breaking," the newscaster announced. "Bruce Wayne's child, Y/N Wayne, was kidnapped by crime lord and night club owner Oswald Cobblepot, AKA the Penguin."

"What?!" Dick spluttered. Tim choked on his evening coffee.

"Not only is he claiming that he has had Y/N Wayne in his custody for over fourteen days via kidnapping, he is now refusing to give them back and claims that Y/N will now be his adopted child."

"That can't be right! You don't kidnap someone and claim that they're a part of your family after an inconsequential amount of time has passed! Squatter's rights do not apply to people!" Tim yelled.

"He . . . kidnapped Y/N?" Steph asked the air.

"We now show the video that has made global headlines." The newscaster disappeared as Cobblepot's cackling form took over.

"Hello, Mr Wayne," he cackled. "Noticed any changes in your household? Perhaps a missing child?" The Wayne household could only watch as the Joker, the literal Joker, held Y/N's hand as he escorted you into the view of the camera. Your outfit was a smaller, form-fitting version of Cobblepot's three-piece suit, and someone had slicked your hair back and given you an umbrella. You had everything except for the monocle. Not your style.

"They're really come into their own since the . . . surprise adoption," Joker grinned. "They've already become a Cobblepot copy, how cute! Not sure how Riddler's going to take losing the bet."

"What bet?" you asked.

"Riddler and I had a bet that your family would ignore everything regarding a ransom for two weeks straight." Penguin's smile was large and full of sharp teeth. "And I was right. They gave me the go-ahead to keep you with their silence. You're all mine now, Y/N."

"Is this brainwashing? This has to be brainwashing, right?" Dick was talking to himself at a mile a minute just so he wouldn't go completely crazy right then and there.

"I have to give a little credit to you, Wayne, with very little doing on your part, you managed to create a wonderful, sweet, and intelligent child." The video quality was clear, so they could see the smile that stretched across your face when he complimented you. "Originally, all I'd wanted was a small payout (small for you) of three million dollars, but when I learned of your utter carelessness and your child's incredible skills, I decided that an heir would be worth more than what your putrid money could buy me. I'm just telling you this so you can turn their bedroom into a guest bedroom."

"My bedroom was always a guest bedroom," they heard you say. "Nobody ever got around to decorating it, and I was just waiting until I could leave legally."

"Well, you can decorate this bedroom anyway you like," Penguin promised.

"Really, Dad? Thank you, you're the best!" Y/N hugged Penguin tightly. Bile rose in their throats.

Y/N called Penguin Dad.

"You really are sweet," Penguin said. "Now, since your birth father's already rather clueless, I guess we can take you to the courthouse and have you legally named as my child. How does Y/N Cobblepot sound?"

"It sounds amazing!" you cheered. And then the video ended.

"Well, I guess that's that. Bruce Wayne's least-seen child will now be Oswald Cobblepot's pride and joy. We'll update you as soon as we learn more about this hidden Wayne and their new life."

The nature documentary resumed, but nobody was paying attention. "Y/N was . . . taken? And we didn't know?" Tim's voice cracked. He was supposed to know. He was your big brother and trained by Batman, not to mention the information guy. He should have known about this.

"How long will it take before we get to the Iceberg Lounge? We need to get them, save them!" Jason grabbed his stuff. "I'm going."

"No, Jason. This should be a cohesive family effort. Clearly, Y/N is being heavily guarded and Cobblepot will not give them up easily." Bruce motioned for his son to sit down. "We should plan this properly if we want them back."

"How do we even lose track of them?" Stephanie asked. "We really had them get away from us? For two weeks straight?"

"Well, we never see them around here. They hole themselves up in their room," Barbara pointed out. "Wait, where is their room?"

A silence gagged them as they tried to think about where in the manor your room was. Nobody could think of a place where it could be.

"How did we not notice that there were so many ransom demands being sent?" Barbara asked.

"There were letters, but I disposed of them," Damian shamefully admitted. "I thought it was a hoax. How was I supposed to believe that Y/N was genuinely kidnapped? Who would even want them?"

"Penguin does, you little brat, and they're being brainwashed into being his little puppet right now!" Jason screamed.

Damian unsheathed his katana. "It was an honest mistake!"

"If you'd told someone about this, all of it could have been prevented!" Jason screamed. "Y/N was holding hands with the Joker!"

Barbara put herself in the middle of the boys. "Stop fighting! The more we fight, the longer we are kept away from Y/N."

"Barbara's right. We need a plan, lots of them. Plans to get Y/N away from those monsters, and back with their real family." Bruce took charge, as the angry and heartbroken father of a kidnapped child.

"And something to get them to love us and trust us again," Damian said. "We cannot cut corners here. We have to go all out. Y/N needs to be home with their real family." He paused, not wanting them to see him cry. Damian Wayne did not cry. "Even if they don't know what that truly looks like."

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6 <- You are here

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie, @enchantingarcadecreation, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @sh4rk-k1d, @prorpy, @heather-hutchcroft, @angelicbear, @sulleha, @sirenetheblogger, @omgfangirlland, @jaybunsblog, @iwannaflyaway

[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!”

[ruins-of-tragedy]

I finished XO Kitty yesterday. And AGHHHH.

(Spoilers for season two ahead...)

I understand that Min Ho is the better love interest. They made sure to build him up like an overpowered protagonist who can never be defeated.

However, did that absolutely have to happen at the expense of Yuri?

We are way past character annihilation now.

And forget about being a good choice for the titular person. They have discarded the sapphic love interest not only as a potential option but also as a decent character.

Yuri Han is just a shell of the person she used to be. She has been turned into a bad girlfriend, a bad friend and a badly written plot point in general.

When Kitty asks her to get in contact with Jina, Yuri just straight up lies. She knows it's important to Kitty, yet she doesn't come clean about never having reached out to her mother. Until she is confronted about it.

I get how she is having issues with her mum. Being any form of queer is never easy. But she could have just told Kitty about not wanting to do it in the first place. Giving a reason for it is not compulsory.

At the end of the day, this feels like a lousy excuse to cook up drama on the part of the writers and cover for easily avoidable deceit.

Especially since Yuri continues to lie about having sent a non-existent email, even after Kitty apparently 'pesters' her over it; because it obviously matters to her.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

The whole cheating thing and Yuri's subsequent treatment of Kitty and Juliana is definitely not the best.

Considering these people are some of the pillars Yuri's season one persona is built upon, it's devastating to watch them shatter without any valid exploration whatsoever.

Throughout season two, her only redeeming interactions occur due to Dae and Alex. And the ones which involve Alex are stretching it a little.

After everything that has gone down, Yuri convincing Jiwon to give Kitty a chance is appreciated but not nearly enough.

And maybe they are breaking down Yuri to build her back again. Her ending up 'poor' may hint at that. They want her to be a better person first and what not.

But so far, this feels like an extremely partial setup that never really cared about the sapphic love interest. Especially because they have been portraying season two as a showdown between Min Ho and Yuri.

Just take a look at the thumbnail for the trailer of it-

Min Ho is infallible in the face of Yuri's faults.

While Yuri's character was off taking a sabbatical, Min Ho was out there winning hearts and making an impact.

Essentially, Yuri now seems to have been a shallow attempt at checking the box of token queer representation. Also getting sapphic viewers to tune in to build tension for the show was an added bonus.

Don't even get me started on Juliana and Praveena. Every WLW character was sidelined or discarded within the first five episodes. Thankfully, they didn't have existing backgrounds to ruin as well.

How Juliana and Kitty managed to become buddy-buddy without ever really interacting on screen still confounds me.

Also, I understand music doesn't have to have an identity based on sexuality. It can be appreciated by a wide range of audiences. And I am bound to agree.

However, with everything that has already occurred, using Chappell Roan's song for Min Ho and Kitty when there is not only a lesbian love interest for her but also sapphic women within the same vicinity... It screams disrespect in the face of such a context.

At best, these actions are tone deaf. But after the abrupt assassination of all the WLW folks, it has now developed into stabbing an already festering wound on the back.

This is my fault, to be honest. For entertaining the possibility it would be a fair play between characters of great potential.

One of whom is a legitimate lesbian.

Why do I ever expect anything better? This is a freaking Netflix show.

My only complaint now is, if they were always planning on doing Yuri dirty like this, introducing her as an option was never necessary.

I am sure there are other ways of exploring bisexuality. Spitting on sapphics in the process is not required practice.

Even if Min Ho was forever the end game, destroying Yuri as a whole to assure that is just plain garbage. There are better ways to make it happen. This was not it.

The writing for Yuri is obviously lacking and leaves a little too much to be desired. And it's pretty apparent they added her into the love constellation for the #views.

With season three's status up in the air, Yuri's fate has been sealed well. They didn't even give her a fair shot. And I don't think they ever will.

Love that for me. I got played hard.

I have deleted this post once already.

And another time, Tumblr did it for me because it wouldn't save the draft for whatever reason.

My excuse for the first one was I don't want to spread unnecessary vitriol.

I am now realising this is not that. And it's extremely important to share with the world.

If not for anyone else, then for me.

@lgbtpopcult said it best; western media gives straight girls love stories, and gay girls "representation."

It may not be the rule, but there are very few exceptions.

I am done.

(Also, this is not an attempt to erase Kitty's bisexual identity. I just think they did a terrible job of portraying the same. And that occurs while putting down WLW people.

Katherine Song Covey is not straight, I am aware. But a lot of the fanbase for the show is.

They now have a wonderful love story to witness, while people like me suffer from heartbreak on the sidelines.

Out here holding funerals for characters whose potential they have mercilessly executed. Pun intended.

Cheers.)

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

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Come Away O Human Child

Complete | AU | Rated E | 😈 Dub-Con

The fae come to our world to kidnap humanity and Feyre finds herself snatched up like all the others.

Ch. 1: Part One [4,706 words]

Ch. 2: Part Two [3,022 words]

Ch. 3: Part Three [4,038 words]

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Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By

Ongoing | AU | Rated M

The Time Traveler's Wife AU. Feyre’s POV. (AKA the companion piece to The Nights Grow Long)

Ch. 1: 2 Months Old [670 words]

Ch. 2: 3 Years Old [1,135 words]

Ch. 3: 6 Years Old [WIP]

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Take Care of Business for Me

Ongoing | Modern AU | Rated E

The Pretty Woman AU no one asked for.

Ch. 1: If I Got Me A Wealthy Man [4,585 words]

Ch. 2: If I Had A Little Money [2,190 words]

Ch. 3: Always Sunny In A Rich Man's World [2,636 words]

Ch. 4: In My Dreams I Have A Plan [2,415 words]

Ch. 5: But I Can't Get Him Off My Mind [WIP]

Ch. 6: Ain't It Sad? [WIP]

Ch. 7: My Life Would Never Be The Same [WIP]

Deleted Scenes: Ch. 2-4 [436 words]

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The Nights Grow Long

Ongoing | AU | Rated M

The other Time Traveler's Wife AU. Rhysand’s POV. (AKA the companion piece to Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By)

Ch. 1: 5 Years Old [671 words]

Ch. 2: 10 Years Old [1,162 words]

Ch. 3: 15 Years Old [WIP]

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The Prison

Ongoing | AU | Rated E | 😈 Dub-Con

Feyre is sent to a prison island after committing a murder. But she soon discovers that there is something far more sinister there than her fellow prisoners...

Ch. 1: The Prison [3,172 words]

Ch. 2: Gifts and Introductions [2,645 words]

Ch. 3: What Goes Bump in the Night [1,478 words]

Ch. 4: Faerie Tales [2,178 words]

Ch. 5: Dream A Little Dream of Me [2,079 words]

Ch. 6: Blood Sacrifice [1,674 words]

Ch. 7: Warning [WIP] — Sneak Peak

Ch. 8: The Monster Inside [WIP]

Ch 9: The Blood of Amarantha [WIP]

Ch 10: Freedom [WIP]

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time won't fly (it's like I'm paralyzed by it)

Ongoing | Canon AU | Rated T

The Time Loop AU.

Complete Chapter Masterlist

Ch 5: The Mermaid (Loop 26) [583 words]

?: The Wyrm [WIP]

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We Just Have To Face It

Complete | Modern AU | Rated E

Feyre is invited to her ex’s wedding. She decides the best way to deal with this is to bring his rival as her plus one. 

Ch. 1: You Are Cordially Invited [2,123 words]

Ch 2: To The Wedding of Tamlin [4,321 words]

The Air That I Breathe

Ongoing | Canon AU | Rated E | Feyre x Rhys x Cassian x Azriel

What if Feyre and the Bat Boys were all mates?

Ch. 1: Cassian & Rhys [933 words]

Ch. 2: Azriel & Cassian [WIP]

Ch. 3: Rhysand & Azriel [WIP]

Ch. 4: Rhysand & Feyre [WIP]

Ch. 5: Cassian & Feyre [WIP]

Ch. 6: Azriel & Feyre [WIP]

Ch. 7: Together At Last [WIP]

Heart of The Ocean

Coming Soon | Historical AU | Rated E | Nessian, Feysand, Eluzriel

The Titanic AU.

Ch. 1: Unsinkable [WIP]

Ch. 2: Call of The Deep [WIP]

Ch. 3: The Haves and The Have-Nots [WIP]

Ch. 4: So Do You Want To Go To A Real Party? [WIP]

Ch. 5: I'm Flying [WIP]

Ch. 6: Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls [WIP]

Ch. 7: Iceberg, Straight Ahead! [WIP]

The Horrors of Writer’s Block

Ongoing | AU | Rated M | Rhys x OC

A fanfic writer finds herself sucked into her own story after battling with writer’s block and is not allowed to leave until she finishes it. Chaos ensues.

Ch. 1: In Which I Get Held Hostage By My Own Fanfic. (Help) [1,302 words]

Ch. 2: In Which I Discover That, Yes, Rhys Really Is That Hot. (No seriously please help) [WIP]

Ch. 3: In Which I Would Like to Speak to the Manager. (Please God, are you listening?) [WIP]

[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.

[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!!)

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“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. 

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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

[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. ❞

[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).

[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 _ 

[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! ->