#needed to age them up for the wedding but also the family tree

[thepettymachine]

All of Ashley's siblings aged up

Chanel || Leslie

Grayson || Sterling

[saintsenara]

In Marauder era (or 1st Wizarding World era) fics, all the characters that we know from the actual books/movies (i.e., The Marauders + Lily, the Malfoys, Bellatrix, etc.), or just characters that are more known, are all put in Hogwarts together at the same time, and it confuses me.

They couldn’t have all been at school together, could they? And even if they were, most of them would have to be years ahead, no? It especially confuses me when Bellatrix is the one in school with them, but her and Narcissa are the only ones that are ever mentioned. Andromeda is literally not that much younger than Bella and older than Narcissa, so you would think that she would appear, yet she doesn’t. Why exactly are they always all bunched together? And what are their actual ages?

this is a bit of worldbuilding which i'm not fond of either, anon.

i get why it happens - hogwarts is a school and, therefore, requires a large cast of characters as fellow students, and since marauders-era writers don't have the advantage that lightning gen writers do of being able to lift these characters directly from the text, the few names we do know from canon of people who lived and died during the first war get used to fill in the gaps.

there are also - obviously - some inconsistencies in the text itself caused by jkr's functional innumeracy. if we take the date of birth given for bellatrix on the black family tree she drew in 2006 - 1951 - then she would graduate hogwarts in either 1969 or 1970, depending on when in the year her birthday is. but sirius says in goblet of fire that she was friends with snape at school.

i ignore sirius and go with the given date of birth because it works better for my worldbuilding - and i have andromeda born in 1953 [leaving hogwarts in 1971 or 1972] and narcissa born in 1955, as per the family tree, but in the autumn [therefore leaving hogwarts in 1974 - and married in 1975, allowing narcissa's wedding to be the last time sirius sees bellatrix, since, as he tells us in order of the phoenix, this took place when he was fifteen] - but i think authors can shift the sisters' birthdays later if they do want to have them overlap more with the marauders generation without it being too much of a problem.

lucius malfoy's date of birth can be worked out fairly easily from canon. in the autumn of 1995, he's forty-one - as we're told in order of the phoenix - which means he was born in 1954 [or - if he has a winter birthday - late 1953] and was at hogwarts between either 1965-1972 or 1966-1973 depending on when in the year his exact birthday is - if it's october 1953-august 1954, he's in the former cohort; if it's september 1954 [which is when the article in which his age is mentioned is published] then he's in the latter. we know he overlaps with the marauders cohort very briefly - since he's shown meeting snape in the prince's tale - but, since he's either a sixth- or seventh-year at the time, i find it unlikely that he paid james and sirius much attention, or that they paid him much attention in turn.

[lucius must - let's be real - go rather under the radar, since he's clearly able to recruit death eaters while at school - and immediately after leaving it - without being noticed.]

what i'm much less inclined to be flexible on is the fanon which has characters like dorcas meadowes, marlene mckinnon, emmeline vance, and so on all be at hogwarts with the marauders - which doesn't work for me for the very basic reason that the order of the phoenix is not an army of child soldiers.

the implication of canon is definitely that the four marauders and lily are an exception to the make-up of the rest of the order - likely for the sensible tactical reason that dumbledore had all the ministry infiltrators he needed, but didn't have people who would be able to provide information about voldemort's recruitment of younger death eaters, which the marauders were clearly able to do by virtue of having been at school with them all [and - in sirius' case - being related to two of them].

it's also clear in the text that dorcas meadowes [who is the only person in the first war other than james and lily we know was killed by voldemort himself] must have been an important political figure - otherwise the dark lord would have left her for one of his minions - and that james and lily don't know marlene mckinnon well enough for her to have been a school friend.

[if she was - as is the common fanon - sirius' teenage girlfriend, i would like to hope that lily's letter to him mentioning her death would devote a little more space to the event than it canonically does...]

what i love to see is the rest of the order - hardened aurors and civil servants who've been locked into the war with voldemort since the marauders started school - being a combination of faintly amused and supremely irritated by the group of cocky young bastards who've just turned up at their meetings, and who seem to think the whole "being a paramilitary" thing is a big laugh.

[especially because it's then so much easier to explain why everyone involved could believe that sirius was guilty...]

[queenmuzz]

A Chain Unbroken Chapter I

A link in the chain.

Read it HERE on Ao3

It’s winter time, and Emmrich wants to go out, wants to skate the frozen river, he wants to go out to play with friends.  Twilight is fast approaching, but he doesn’t care. He’s eight years old, he doesn’t need his mother to go with him anymore, he’s a big boy,  the dark doesn’t scare him anymore.

But he’s also a dutiful son, the only child of the Volkarin household, so when his mother tells him that he can only go out after supper, and that supper takes place only after his father returns home, he bites his tongue and completes his chores.  Tend the fire, and set the table.  The latter he does eagerly, the sooner his father could sit down to eat, the sooner he could go out.  Hopefully his friends wouldn’t have wandered off in boredom, leaving him alone.  He hated being left alone.

The former chore, keeping the hearth alight, was much less fun.  It was the only thing that kept their creaky, drafty tenement house warm, but he had it drilled into him that he couldn’t just dump wood into it willy nilly, fuel was hard to come by, especially in the depths of winter.  He had come to realize at an early age that his family could not afford simple things that others could.  Yes, his belly was always full, and he would never lack for clothing, but he had noticed that his parents were thin, their clothing was patched and shabby.  But they were happy together, with their matching set of wedding rings, the way they both told him he was destined for great things, and he could never deny that they loved him more than anything in the world.

And that’s why he did his best to use the least amount of fuel to keep the fire burning.  He might not be able to bring in money, like his mother cooking, but he could help by saving a copper or two.

The door opened, bringing a gust of cold air as the tall lanky figure of Rupert Volkarin came in. 

“Father!”  He throws himself at the man who laughs, catches him and spins him around.  

“How’s my little Emmi doin’?” He sets him down with an exaggerated groan. “Not so little now either, eh?”

“My name is Emmrich!” He pouts even as he still clings to him like a toddler.  Unlike other nevarran children, he has no repulsion of the scent that permeates the man’s clothing.  Yes, had heard enough from the older kids at school, the insults about his father’s profession. He really didn’t care.  Sure, his father was a butcher, but that didn’t make him any worse than any father.  He was just doing what he had to survive.  He remembers seeing a Dalish Caravan passing through the countryside, and the way they revered the forest and trees, and yet they chopped down trees when need called for it.

“Well ‘Emmrich’,” his mother’s stern, yet loving voice comes from behind.  Your father is tired, and probably wants to clean up before supper.  Would you be a dear, and heat up some water in the kettle?  Enough for the wash basin and to steep the tea?”

He nods as he runs over to the fireplace and shoves another log into the hearth, stoking the flames.  His father walks over and embraces his mother, sweeping her in a tender kiss as they make their way up the narrow rickety stairs.  He smiles at how much they adore each other.  Some of his friends’ parents can’t seem to stand each other.  Not his. They were so deeply in love, despite their humble situation.  When he grows up, he’s going to find his special person.  No matter what it takes.

He lugs the water to fill the kettle.  It’s going to take a long time to heat it all up, and it’ll use up a lot of wood.

Emmrich thinks hard.  He wants to go out with friends before bedtime, and he doesn’t want to use the precious fuel that his father and mother work so hard to afford.  What if there was a way to…

His arm tingles, and he reaches towards the fire.  He’s had dreams like this, urges to unlock something within him.   That he could tap into the energies of his dreams, bring them to this world and create flames without using wood.  He closes his eyes and tries to replicate the action he’s done while he slumbered.

Three things happen:  An explosion of hot air, so powerful that it knocks him back across the room, into the wall.  

The creak of the ceiling beam, always noisy on windy days, begins to shriek and crack..

And most alarming of all, a figure, cloaked and masked has suddenly appeared out of nowhere.  The only distinguishing feature is piercing grey eyes that are locked on him. 

The beam above him screams as it wrenches from its support and begins to plummet.  He tries to shield himself with his arms, knowing that it will be in vain.  He closes his eyes, waiting for the inevitable pain.

It never comes.  Instead, he hears a grunt.  He cracks his eyes open to see that figure standing over him, straining to hold the beam.  

It’s hard to make out their features, aside from those grey, almost silver eyes.

“Emmrich…” their voice grunts out, clearly tiring from the effort.  “The fire…put it out… it’s gonna spread.”  Already flames are licking a fallen piece of plaster on the floor.  He scrambles and takes the kettle of water and dumps the contents on the flames, smothering them and coating the room in darkness.  Above the hiss of steam he hears the screams and protests of wood and masonry, the smash of pottery and glass.  The world is literally crashing down upon him, and there is nothing he can do about it…he’s gonna die here.

He hears an anguished roar, and then arms grab him out in the darkness. More things fall as he feels himself rolling across the tilted floor.  He’s reminded of the time when he got in a fight with one of the older kids at school, which led to them tumbling down a hill.  Except instead of exchanging punches, this stranger holds tightly, shielding him from the impact of falling wood, plaster and brick.  The sounds are terrifying to him, it’s like the world is about to end.  But the mysterious stranger holds him tightly, shielding him from the worst of it.  

After what seems like forever, the roar dies down to nothing, save for the pounding of his heart, and his laboured breathing.  Two sets of laboured breathing.

“You alright?”  There’s a voice on his right, and he turns to look, but sees nothing. 

‘Oh yeah, you can’t see in the dark like me…not yet at least.  One moment.”  He hears the rustle of cloth, and then a snap, similar to the sound of an ember popping.   A sudden blast of soft blue light illuminates the area.  It takes him a few seconds to look around.  They’ve managed to roll under the kitchen table, which is propped up against the wall like a tent.  It gives him just enough space to move his limbs to let the blood flow moving, but little else.  And there’s the other person, this mysterious cloaked figure, their eyes reflecting silver blue.

“You alright, Emmrich?”

Their voice is soft, and even through a whisper he can tell that she’s a woman, probably as old as his mother.  Maybe one of her friends?  But he’s never heard that voice before, even as he’s served tea when her neighbors come over to gossip. It’s hard and unyielding, but not unkind.  It reminds him of his Uncle Bernard, a traveling mercenary, a voice that has seen much action.

“Fine.” He admits.  Right now his heart is pounding  heavily, thrumming so much blood that it still sounds like his house is collapsing around him.  But she doesn’t need to know how utterly terrified he is.  He’s eight years old, he’s brave and strong.  He needs to distract himself.

“Who are you?”

She stills, then her eyes look to the side.  

“You can call me… Rook”

“How do you know my name?  I don’t remember meeting someone like you.”

She shifts uncomfortably, and those eyes dart away momentarily before returning to him.  “I heard your mother call your name, something about heating up tea water.”  

The thought of his mother suddenly makes him remember his parents.  They’re upstairs, most likely in the bedroom.  His mother is probably folding the fresh laundry, checking to see what clothes need mending, chiding his father for getting a particularly hard to clean stain out on his best shirt.  He’d probably laugh and give her a kiss, and they’d forget all about the stains.

Surely they would have felt the floor collapse, and come out running… unless, the roof followed the floor and they were cru-

No, he thinks, they are searching for him right now.  They wouldn’t let me stay here in the dark.  

“Father?”  He calls out into the dimly lit space.  Nothing.  “Mother?”  The only response is the distant trickle of masonry.  

What if they are hurt?  He needs to go to them. He needs to help them.  He’s not sure what he can do, but he needs to find them.  

“Emmrich…” Rook's voice is soft and sad, and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like what it implies.  He feels a surge of panic flow through him. 

“I NEED TO FIND THEM!  I NEED TO SEE THEM!”  He moves quickly, kicking at the table above them, using all his weight to try to push the table up, to heave it so he can dig his way up and out.   It was twilight when the collapse, there might still be light, the green veilfire lamps would just start being lit.  He would be able to navigate his way to find his parents.

“Emmrich, no… stop!” Rook tries to force him back down, but he’s full of adrenaline.   He won’t let this weirdo cloaked figure stop him from finding his parents.  That same prickling feeling that he felt before flows down his arm.  If he willed it, he could blast that table to smithereens, he knows it.

Suddenly, something shifts and the table comes down, carrying the weight of the house on it.  Faster than he would ever expect, Rook rolls over to shield him, not that it would save him, he knows.  They’ll both be killed by the collapse.  For a brief moment, a terror fills him.  

He doesn’t want to die.

A spark lights up, a green flash lights up the area, even overpowering the blue, and the collapse stops, mere inches from Rook's back, held up by a green bubble.  He gasps, both in surprise, and then in exertion as it takes all his dwindling reserves of energy to keep the bubble up.  He knows that it’s the only thing keeping him from getting crushed to death.

Rook, to her credit, wastes no time, and rolls off of him, finding anything, wood, brick, stone.  Anything that will prop up the table, as he gasps and sweats at the effort.

“I think… I think you can let go now…” her voice is ragged, and he’s not sure what she means, but it doesn’t matter, whatever energy he had is sapped, and the last thing he remembers is her silver eyes shifting from reflecting green to blue before everything goes dark.

He wakes up groggy, like a nap cut short.  Which is odd, he HATES naps.  Naps are for little kids.  But this… this feels comfy.  He’s surrounded by a warm fluffy blanket that smells odd.  He keeps his eyes closed, hoping that he’ll drift back to sleep.

Then he hears a voice, soft and gentle, speaking, her voice murmuring something as if it was a recitation.

“Let them be found worthy to pass through the veil,

Let them go into the Fade, hand in hand,

Free of trouble.

Free of pain

And let their memory endure in those that yet live”

It sounds solemn, and sad…  he’s heard it before, but he can’t remember where exactly where or when.  

He opens his eyes, expecting to see the wooden beams of his small bedroom ceiling, but instead, he sees, mere inches from his head, an unfamiliar wooden panel lit not by  the warm light of the rising sun, nor of the green veilfire of the lamp outside his window.  This is blue.  He’s confused, and then feels the blanket moves on its own, a sharp intake of breath.

The past rushes back towards him, and his heart races. 

“How long?” he croaks, his throat feels scratchy and dry, like cracked plaster.

“You’ve been asleep for probably a good six or so hours,” Rook’s voice explains as she pulls away from him.  Was she holding him as he slept?  He feels the chill seep into his bones almost immediately, and he longs for her to hold him again.  It’s oddly comforting, considering he doesn’t know her at all.

“My parents-” he tries to talk, but he can’t, his throat feels so dry, he coughs, and Rook rustles around something in her cloak, and pulls out a squarish thing.  

The sound of a lid being unscrewed, and her voice, equally raspy, orders him, “Take a sip.  But only a small sip.”

He obeys, and feels some liquid that drips down his throat.  It burns, causing him to cough, but there's a comforting hand on his shoulder, and her silver blue eyes regard him sympathetically.  “Sorry, it’s just Anderfel Brandy.  Not really the stuff a kid should be drinking, but it should be enough to wet your lips.”  She’s right, that after the scorching heat burns his throat, it feels better, like a freshly plowed field that has the first shoots of wheat popping out.

“My parents,” he repeats, and she freezes just as she’s about to take a sip, “They haven’t come for me yet?”  

She decides to forgo taking a swig, and screws the top before placing it in her cloak.  “Emmrich…” she takes a soft intake of breath, before she looks him in the eye.  “Your parents aren’t coming.”  

That makes no sense, his parents would never abandon him.  Surely his father is going through the ruins of their hours, screaming his name as he pulls the building apart brick by brick.  His mother would be pushing aside old furniture, working her fingers bloody to scrabble her way to him.  Unless… what Rook means is… no… she couldn’t mean that?

“You could find them!” he says hopefully, before clarifying, “You’re strong, I saw you hold up that beam!  You can dig your way out of here!  You can find them!  You can…”

Rook's eyes look sad, and shakes her head.  “I can’t…”  Her voice is a strangled whisper.  “Even if I was strong enough to move mountains, there’s no way I could bring them back…”

The way she says it, he can read between the lines.  And the chill that was settling in now freezes the marrow in his bones.  

“No…” he gives out a strangled denial, “they can’t be… can’t be…” the word goes unsaid, but it echoes in the air, bouncing off the bricks, the wood, the shattered pottery, the scattered knives his father uses as part of  his despised profession.  

Dead

He can’t breathe.   His heart is beating so fast it feels like it's going to burst.  His fingers are beginning to go numb, and he’s not sure if it's because of the cold.  His parents are gone, beyond the reach of anyone, and he’s stuck here, in this cramped area with some stranger he can’t even see the face of, with his parents above him, their bodies crushed to…

“I can’t-  I can’t-” he tries to tell Rook, but what air leaves his lungs is not replaced, and his whole body is now numb and cold.  Maybe he’s dead already.  Maybe he’s been squashed like a tomato by the house, and he doesn’t know it yet. 

Maybe Rook is the Guide that Nevarrans talk about, the one who guides souls across the Veil, into the Fade.  They’re supposed to be a cloaked masked figure that often travels on a black horse.  It’s supposed to be comforting, to know in your final moments, you’re not alone.  But to Emmrich, it's terrifying.  He doesn’t want his parents to die.  He doesn’t want to die.  Not here, in the dark and the cramped space.   

He doesn’t want to know that he did something that killed them all…

“Emmrich,” Rook's voice intrudes into his spiraling thoughts, and he feels warmth on his shoulder.  “May I hold you…?”  He nods numbly, and he feels warmth and feeling seep back into his body as she pulls him towards her, an embrace that is comforting and oddly familiar.  It’s not the tight strong hugs his father gives him, or the soft encompassing hugs his mother gives, but he swears he’s felt it before… or maybe he WILL feel it.  Which makes no sense.  How can he know a sensation he won’t experience until the future?  The weirdness of it all partially breaks the spiral of panic he’s been stuck in, and he’s able to take a gasping breath.

“Breathe with me,” she tells him, and he complies.  “One breath in… hold it in…3…2…1, let it out.   Breathe in again… hold… 3…2…1, let it out…”

They complete the cycle a dozen or so times, each one becoming easier.  He can feel her heartbeat reverberating on his chest, fast but steady, and his heartbeat begins to match hers.  He can’t help but clutch her cloak, and he feels something hard and cold in the fabric.

“Ah…she says,” and pulls away for a brief moment, after she thinks he’s calmer, and he hears a metallic ‘ clink’ .   She shows what he found. 

It’s a beautiful golden brooch.  The shape of a grinning skull, with gems in its eyes that match Rook’s eye colour exactly.   He’s entranced by it, the coolness of the metal that quickly warms at his touch, the sparkle that sends out out dazzling sparks of blue silver into the little cramped space, and for a brief moment, he thinks he’s laying out with his father on the roof of his home one summer night, looking up at the stars.

“You know,”  Rook says as he plays with it. “It’s brought me great comfort when I was in trouble, just holding it kept me calm.  Maybe…” she says with some effort, “maybe it’s time it helped you.”

His head snaps up.  Surely she can’t be serious.  He might not know much about how money works, but this brooch would probably cost more than his father earned in a year!  And she just wants to give it to him?

“No..I can’t…” he tries to shove it back to her, but she is insistent. 

“Keep it, Emmrich…Please”  Her voice is sad, and so desperate, that he feels compelled.  And as he nods at her, her eyes seem to sparkle like the gems in the skull.

Suddenly, there’s a pop, and the blue light goes out, the twinkling stars vanishing with it.  A great cold darkness sweeps in.

He hears her mutter something, possibly a swear word as she seems pats down a pouch at her waist.  “Spirits consume me!  I don’t have any more Lyrium tablets…”  

He can’t see anything now, and that panic that lay slumbering roars back to the surface.   He’s going to die here, forgotten and alone.  This place will be a tomb for him and his family.  There will be no one to remember him.   No one to perform the rites to send him and his parents into the Fade. His breathing becomes ragged and his heart begins picking up speed.  He feels cold and clammy.  His hands become numb, save for his left palm, which clutches the skull, and as he feels the texture, he swears it exudes a warmth from within.  He tries to focus on it, that as long as he can feel it, it means he’s still alive.   

Breath in… hold it in…3…2…1… let it out…

He’s not sure if she’s telling him to do that, or if he’s doing it on his own.  All he knows is that she holds him tightly, curling her body around him, enveloping him with her softness and warmth/

“You will live, Emmrich, I swear it…” she whispers in his ear, her oath as certain as if it was written in Nevarran granite.  “You will do great things.  You will face almost insurmountable hurdles, and you will clamber over them.  It will be hard, but you won’t be alone, even when you feel like you are.  And I…” she stops  herself.  He tries to look up at where she is, tries to make out those silver grey eyes, and for a brief moment, he swears he can see them.   

‘And I… ‘ what did she want to say?  Why couldn’t she say it?

“Would you like to hear a story?”

He’s far too old for stories, but right now, aside from her embrace and the little brooch, her voice is the only thing that keeps him from panicking.  He nods, and despite it being pitch black, she somehow can see him, because she starts talking.

“So, there was this group of people that joined to save the world…”

He dozes in and out while she tells the story.  It’s not that it’s a boring story, far from it.  But her voice is so entrancing, it lulls him to sleep.  He suspects that was her intention.  Every minute he sleeps, he’s conserving energy, he’s not panicking, he’s a minute closer to rescue.  But he remembers snatches.  There’s dragons, and a hero who hunts them.  (He’s Nevarran, he can’t help but be entranced by stories about dragons.)  The hero also can breathe fire.  (Okay, now the story is not true. Dragons might have been gone for a long time, but at least they existed).  There’s an Antivan Crow, who is possessed by a spirit of Determination that’s been tormented until it changed its nature.  (That’s just silly, only mages can be possessed, and almost all of them turn into monsters)  There’s a brave grey warden with his Griffon, a dwarf who can cast magic (now he’s getting insulted about this story.  Everyone knows Dwarves can’t use magic!)  An elf that can make old machines move on their very own, and a brave woman from Tevinter that uses her magic to help slaves escape their cruel masters.   He doesn’t really hear about what happens,  but he seems to think there’s a hole in the story, characters that don’t get mentioned but play a very important part.  He doesn’t mind.  He feels safe and warm in her arms.

She’s talking about a dragon that attacks Treviso, when she stops suddenly.

“Listen!”  She hisses, and his ears prick up at the sounds of thumps, and is that… voices?  Yes!  There’s voices, muffled, but they are distinct, at least three of them.

“HEY!  DOWN HERE!  HELP US!”  he yells, and resists the urge to kick at the table.  It would be very unfortunate for him to get crushed when help is so close.

For a moment, there is silence.   He panics, maybe he scared them off.  Maybe they’re looters that fled.  And then the thumps and voices increase volume and speed.  He can even make out a few phrases

“I’m tellin’ you Lukas, I swore I heard a voice!”

“You’re probably drunk again…there’s no way anybody would be alive for so long down here!”

“I’M HERE!” he screams at the top of his lungs, “I’M NOT DEAD!”  Another spell of silence!

“Caspar’s Bones!  That’s Rupert’s boy!  Keep diggin’ lads!  Lukas, get your old lady over here with some blankets, and some of her soup.  We’ve got a live one!”  The thumping continues, and he can make out the sounds of grunts as masonry is chucked.

And then the darkness is dispelled by a hole, the size of his fist lets in the early morning sunlight.  He scrabbles out of Rook’s arms, and presses his face against the hole, breathing fresh cold air.  

There’s a gasp from the two men pulling the rubble away, he recognizes them as a couple of his neighbors.

“Emmrich?  You alright lad?”

“YES, I WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE!”  He’s on the cusp of tears, but not panicking.  After everything, he just wants out.  

“Patience lad…” the older one of the two. “We dig any more, we’re liable to have this whole thing crashing down on you and I.  Give us a bit to get more people to help.  Don’t worry, we ain’t about to abandon you,” his face grows sombre, “I owe your parents that much, at least.” The man disappears and there’s silence for the moment.

Emmrich doesn’t quite get what he means, but he’s waited hours so far, he can wait a bit longer.

“Rook!” He turns around to see her, “You were right!  We’re gonna get out of here! We’re gonna li-”  There’s something off about her, she seems to be glowing… like sparkles from the gems in the skull are within her.

“You’re right.  You’re going to live.  You’re going to survive.  But…” she looks at her gloved hand, which he swears is see through, like a sheer curtain.  “You’re going to have to do it without me… Her eyes glitter, but not because they are gems, it looks like she’s about to cry.  “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me… but knowing that you’re alive makes it worth it…”  She pulls him in close, as if to give him a hug.

Impulse takes over, and he grabs her mask off, revealing her face. He needs to see what she looks like, even for just a moment.  Maybe he’ll recognize her!  She reacts by yanking back, her hood falling off from the sudden motion, and he gasps.  It’s not a face he’s ever seen before.  It’s pale and silver strands of hair frame it.  She looks… beautiful.  Like a princess from one of those fairytales where the chevalier fights a dragon.  Except, in her tale, she’s the princess braving the flames to slay the beast.  He takes in every feature, from the tiny scar above her left eyebrow, to the dimple in her cheek.  The way her hair shimmers like moonlight.  He’s going to remember every little bit of her, he’s going to treasure it.  And if she disappears, he’s going to find her. 

“Oh Emmrich…” she says and there’s something in her voice, a sense of love and longing that is different from what he’s experienced from his parents..  She pulls him in one more time to hold him, and then he feels the oddest feeling on his forehead.  It takes him to realize it's her lips giving him a gentle kiss.  “We’ll meet again, I promise.”

And then a gust of winter wind blows through the hole, and she’s gone.

He doesn’t really remember much afterwards.  Multiple hands grabbing rubble, yells to prop up stuff, the hole getting larger and larger, until it's big enough for him to scrabble through.  There’s cheers, blankets, and a cup of hot soup thrust into his hands.  It doesn’t taste half as good as his mother’s… speaking of which… he asks where his parents are, and no one says anything, won’t look him in the face.

That’s when he finds out he’s alone.  

Uncle Bernard never shows up for the funeral, never comes to claim his nephew, and when his magic shows up a few months later, he’s promptly shipped off to the Circle.  And when it is found out that he has a very particular set of magic skills, he gets shipped off again, this time to the Mourn Watch.  The place terrifies him, these reminders of death, and it keeps him awake at night, awoken by nightmares of being crushed under the accusing bodies of his parents, blaming him for their deaths.  And every time he wakes up in terror, he forces himself to calm down, he uses two familiar techniques.

Breath in… hold it in…3…2…1… let it out…

With a shaky hand he pulls out  the golden skull, his greatest treasure, from his breast pocket, and strokes it, while he calms down and settles back to dreamless sleep.

Rook is an ever present thought in his mind.  He searches census tomes the moment he has access, but comes up empty handed. He travels the Fade in his dreams working on a hunch that perhaps she was a Spirit.  What type, he can’t say, her beauty transcends anything the Fade could offer. Nothing.  He does find a Curiosity wisp that follows him around while he dreams, even deciding to cross the Veil to accompany him.

He makes friends with colleagues, including a brilliant but ethically challenged student.  He falls in love.  He falls out of love.  His friendships cool, and he finds out about a way he can banish the fears of death, permanently.  The path is long and arduous, but he is certain he can accomplish his dream. 

He’s in his mid 20’s when he hears about a living newborn infant found by the undead in the long extinct Ingellvar family crypt.  This curious fact, that the spirits inhabiting the undead were able to identify the infant, knew that the baby was in a precarious state without a living being to take care of her, and delivered the child to Vorgoth for safety, all on their own.   It makes him wonder if he can create an undead that is able to learn and act independently .

He's getting tired.  He’s getting old.  He’s getting lonely.  His best friend is gone, banished for pushing too far in her discoveries.  His Curiosity wisp now has a body of his own, but it’s not quite enough for Emmrich.  All that he can look forward to is taking that final, possibly fatal, step to Lichdom.  Ironically, his fear of death is the reason he hasn’t crossed that last threshold.  That and Rook… he still wants to find her.

He receives a letter from Myrna, stating that his knowledge is required for an urgent matter, that one of his long distance colleagues, a lovely elvish lady named Bellara will be coming to visit.  He’s delighted, as she is full of curiosity and her intelligence for her young age astounds him.  

‘Mourn Watcher Zea Ingellvar will be accompanying her as an escort’ Myrna adds in a postscript, ‘Due to the urgent matter Bellara will speak to you of, Ingellvar has been given limited privileges to return to the Necropolis.  Please do not hold her previous actions against her’

He wasn’t planning to.  Her actions in the War of the Banners were heroic and saved countless lives, and he’s always thought it was a travesty of justice to exile her, even if he’s never met her.  He’s always admired people who thumb their noses at the living nobility.  It’s why he and Hezenkoss got along so well before her expulsion.

Bellara is just as lovely and polite as he imagined, shaking his hand excitedly as her eyes glow with admiration.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you in person, Professor.”

“Please…” he insists, “Just call me Emmrich.”  He has a sneaking suspicion he’ll have to remind her that multiple times.

“Oh," she jumps as if she just remembered something she has forgotten, "I should introduce my friend.  Not sure if you’ve met, this is Zea Ingellvar”

His heart stops.  That dimple.  That small scar above her left eyebrow, the silver hair that shimmers like moonlight.  The silver eyes that match the exact colour of the gems in the skull he keeps close to his heart.  All this time, she’s been here, under his very nose.

“Charmed.” She greets him, the same voice that lulled him to sleep over forty years ago, “But you can call me Rook.”

After all this time, he’s finally found her.

[arkadijxpancakes]

naming a character in a historical setting

When you create characters (for example for fanfics or role-playing games) there is a common issue people run into: their new blorbo tends to need a name. And naming characters can be hard.

When naming characters, I usually pick something behind the name or a random website for baby names and call it a day. However, I spend a lot of time lately on researching my family tree. It gave me new insights and inspiration in terms of naming characters. I noticed that this can come in handy, especially when writing in historical settings.

Here are me findings:

1) Parish registers are a great source for names. When your story takes place in a region where the church was/is present, chances are, that they kept records on all christenings, weddings and burials. Those registers tend to go back quite a bit. The regions I researched tend to have registers that go back to around the year 1700. Some regions have registers that are even older.

A birth register will usually contain the full name of a child and the names of their parents and sometimes the names of their godparents. A marriage register will contain the full names of groom and bride and sometimes the names of their parents and their ages. A burial register will include the name of the dead person and usually their age. They might also include information an their spouse and/or kids.

So yeah: These registers can give you a lot of names. (Both given names and surnames.) They can also tell you a lot about how names were structured at the time. And because the local church documented all births, weddings and deaths (not just those of the nobility), those books are great for looking up the names of ordinary people.

[Note: The following pharagraphs will focus on what I found during my research. Because I researched specific villages and cities in what was then Prussia and what is now Northern Germany and Poland, my findings are somewhat specific to those regions. Naming conventions in other parts of Europe (or other parts of Germany, for that matter) can be different. So if you want to have some regional flavor for story, please try to look up how people used names in the region you want to write about.]

2) There were naming trends in families and villages. One of the villages I researched had a lot of Joachims. And I mean loads of them. There was a family that had a Joachim who named his son Joachim. Who also had a first son named Joachim. And while I don't know anything about him and his kids, both his siblings named one of their children Johann Joachim. There was probably another Joachim that predates all of them, but I found only traces. The parish book just doesn't go back far enough. There were other names that ran in the family, too. Names like Hans and Peter for boys and Marie and Dorthee for girls were pretty common.

And yes, it was pretty similar in other families of that village. Loads and loads of Joachims. At the same time, a village, just a couple kilometers further south, had significantly fewer people with that name. This means, that you can sometimes recognize people who weren't born in that village but moved there, by their names.

3) Naming trends also changed with time. Let's go back to Joachim-village for this: At the beginning of the 18th century, it was pretty common to give kids only one name. Sometimes a kid got two. By the middle of the same century, having a first name and a middle name was pretty much the norm. Later, this could go up to three or more names in total. And we're still talking ordinary people here, farmers and day laborers and cowherds. So no one who was particularly fancy or well-off.

4) It was very common to name your kids after other people. As I already mentioned, some kids were named after their parents. This could happen in the form I detailed above, where each Joachim called their firstborn son the same name. The same family had a Anna Maria who named one of her daughters Anna Maria, too.

In another region, there was a family where the parents and all their kids had at least three given names. The father was named Carl Friedrich Wilhelm whose spouse had the given Names Hanna Friederike Wilhelmine. Each of their kids inherited at least one of their given names.

In some regions, it was also pretty common to be named after your godparents. (Of which there tended to be many. In villages I read the parish books of, three to five godparents seemed to be the norm. However, I saw instances, where children at up to nine.) And if you weren't named after your godparent, you could end up with the name of your dead sibling. (And yes, most families had at least a few of those. That's why you are supposed to get your kids - and yourself! - vaccinated. Childhood diseases were fucking scary before the advent of vaccinations and antibiotics. So let's not go back to that!)

5) While most kids got very common names, not all parents played by that book. During my research, I stumbled across some pretty unusual names. (At least unusual for the region.) The most unusual name I saw was Dionysos. I also saw a Levin and an Achaz.

6) Place names as surnames were really common. (At least in that one region where I was looking for ancestors.) I knew that people took place names as surnames, of course, but I was surprised at how common this was. Most place names were pretty regional, too. Almost all of them (except Berlin) came from a radius of about 50 kilometers around the village I was researching. And the vast majority were a lot closer than 50 kilometers.

7) The way names were written depended on the person who was doing the writing. When it comes to female given names, a lot of them can be spelled with either an E or an A at the end. (Like Marie and Maria.) In a lot of cases, those spellings are used pretty much interchangeably. Additionally, there was this one woman, whose surname ended on either -berg, -burg or -borg, depending on which source you were looking at. At the same time, the name of her husband flip-flopped between being written with a P and a B. And those Joachims I was writing about? Yeah, their names could be written as Jochim and Jochen, too. No one really gave a fuck and I rarely saw any corrections.

My takeaways from this:

Most names were not random. People got named after family members or godparents.

At the same time, other parents didn't use those naming traditions and went with names that can look very random to us. However, they probably had a reason for how they named their kids. If you want to use an uncommon name, maybe include this in their backstory.)

It's okay to have multiple characters with the same or very similar given name/s. It can be very historically accurate and says a lot about the family/the culture of their region. It shouldn't be too difficult to differentiate between them, as the people in the past managed this, too. (For example, with nicknames.)

Both, history lessons and stories in a (pseudo-)historical setting tend to make ordinary people invisible. But they were there. And no, they were not dumb or brutish or uncivilized. You just have to look for them.

Oh and just one more tidbit: During the time period and in the region I was looking at, people did not marry as soon as puberty hit. Most grooms and brides were well into their twenties, before they tied the knot. And yes, a lot of them did fuck before they married. It's all in the (parish) books.

[lingthusiasm]

Lingthusiasm Episode 88: No such thing as the oldest language

It's easy to find claims that certain languages are old or even the oldest, but which one is actually true? Fortunately, there's an easy (though unsatisfying) answer: none of them! Like how humans are all descended from other humans, even though some of us may have longer or shorter family trees found in written records, all human languages are shaped by contact with other languages. We don't even know whether the oldest language(s) was/were spoken or signed, or even whether there was a singular common ancestor language or several.

In this episode, your hosts Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne get enthusiastic about what people mean when we talk about a language as being old. We talk about how classifying languages as old or classical is often a political or cultural decision, how the materials that are used to write a language influence whether it gets preserved (from clay to bark), and how people talk about creoles and signed languages in terms of oldness and newness. And finally, how a language doesn't need to be justified in terms of its age for whether it's interesting or worthy of respect.

Click here for a link to this episode in your podcast player of choice or read the transcript here.

Here are the links mentioned in the episode:

Lingthusiasm episode 'Tracing languages back before recorded history'

'My Big Fat Greek Wedding- Give me any word and I show you the Greek root' on YouTube

Glottolog entry for 'classical'

Wikipedia entry for 'Complaint tablet to Ea-nāṣir'

Wikipedia entry for 'Bath curse tablets'

Wikipedia entry for 'Cuneiform'

Wikipedia entry for 'Mesopotamian writing systems'

Wikipedia entry for 'Home Sign'

Lingthusiasm episode 'Villages, gifs, and children: Researching signed languages in real-world contexts with Lynn Hou'

Wikipedia entry for 'Al-Sayyid Bedouin Sign Language'

Wikipedia entry for 'Kata Kolok' (also known as Benkala Sign Language)

True Biz by Sara Nović on Goodreads

Gretchen's thread about reading True Biz

You can listen to this episode via Lingthusiasm.com, Soundcloud, RSS, Apple Podcasts/iTunes, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. You can also download an mp3 via the Soundcloud page for offline listening.

To receive an email whenever a new episode drops, sign up for the Lingthusiasm mailing list.

You can help keep Lingthusiasm ad-free, get access to bonus content, and more perks by supporting us on Patreon.

Lingthusiasm is on Bluesky, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Mastodon, and Tumblr. Email us at contact [at] lingthusiasm [dot] com

Gretchen is on Bluesky as @GretchenMcC and blogs at All Things Linguistic.

Lauren is on Bluesky as @superlinguo and blogs at Superlinguo.

Lingthusiasm is created by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our senior producer is Claire Gawne, our production editor is Sarah Dopierala, our production assistant is Martha Tsutsui Billins, and our editorial assistant is Jon Kruk. Our music is ‘Ancient City’ by The Triangles.

This episode of Lingthusiasm is made available under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Share Alike license (CC 4.0 BY-NC-SA).

[eywaseclipse]

Written in the Stars Chapter 11: The Most Precious Pearl*

Characters: Na’vi oc reader Tani, Jake, Lo’ak, Neteyam, Tuk, Kiri, Ronal, Metkayina clan members 

Synopsis: You and your family are adjusting to your new home, with a few hiccups in the way, you try to acclimate to your new environment and married life. Lo’ak and Neteyam defend Kiri when she gets bullied, you and Jake have a heart to heart and finally mate

Warnings: Finally some sweet lovemaking, 18+ 

Word Count: 4.5k

Ever since your conversation with Ronal, you sensed a deeper yearning for your husband than before. You knew that you could choose one of two options; continue this awkward scared dynamic too afraid to take the plunge to admit your feelings, or venture into that unknown territory together. You had been willing to complete your union the night of your wedding, you could’ve sworn Jake was ready too. You both had a softness in your eyes submitting to the laws of nature, compelled to do whatever you needed for your family and clan. 

But ever since seeking refuge in the reef clan, he has been too busy to share any moments with you. Slowly, a distance between the two of you had formed, an unspoken gap that the two of you fear to admit to one another. There were fleeting moments you could tell Jake was also yearning for more, from small glances, soft touches, quick pecks. You knew he wouldn’t take it any further unless you did something first, so your conversation with Ronal solidified that it is you who must thaw your heart in order to let love guide your actions. 

Today was no different from any other day, you woke up this morning with your back to your husband, feeling the heat radiate from his bigger form. Your family helping with breakfast as they prepare for their new duties as sea people. Neteyam has begun training for his passage hunt that will solidify his place among the Metkayina, so you rarely see him these days. Lo’ak spends most of his time with Tsireya and Kiri, with Tuk tagging along. The friendship between the kids and the chief’s son started out rough when he and his friends decided to pick on Kiri resulting in a fight. But a few months have passed and the kids have overcome their differences and have become close. 

You miss your own friends back home, you haven’t had much time to meet anyone your age here, not that you would find yourself relating to them anyway. You now sit in the Tsahìk’s tent once again, as the two of you ready to harvest more roots and herbs in the mangrove forest. Ronal’s pregnancy is in the halfway stretch, with her belly becoming rounder and more swollen you assist her in anyway you can. 

As you weave through the humid forest, you take in the sounds of the environment, your ears perked to the sounds of the life humming around you. The familiarity making your heart swell with melancholy. 

This forest is much more lush and tropical unlike your dense canopy home, still breeds a comfort that blooms in your belly knowing you can come here when you have moments longing for your old life. “We are here.” Ronal announces interrupting your trance. You look to where you are standing at the bottom of a large mangrove tree, from the looks of it it’s probably close to 100 years old or more. You nod, and set your woven bag down readying your tools to extract the sap from the tree. Carefully watching Ronal demonstrate first, you then ready your tinctures and fill up your jars. 

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, as you both have found a middle ground in your budding friendship. 

Your bag is now filled with sap, healing berries, roots, and herbs you will hang to dry and mix into a powder. What’s left is to find a salve. “We must go to the glow worm cave to extract the salve, it is just a few clicks North.” You smile and nod your head as you follow the ocean eyed woman. “What part of the glow worm is the healing property?” You inquire. She turns to you as you both keep the same pace, despite her pregnant belly, she remains swift and agile. “I will show you, we must swim beyond the pools and waterfall.” 

You see a beautiful shimmering body of water come into your line of sight, as your Tsahìk hoists her bag to the back of her body, you following suit. You both dip into the water wading towards the water fall, she dives into the water below where the water fall hits the pond, with you following close by. With Ronal’s breathing exercises and daily water training, you can now hold your breath up to 5 minutes. This swim only takes 30 seconds, as you both surface into the cave. The rocky walls are lit with the most alluring shade of bioluminescence you have ever seen. Your own starry face lit from the dim lit environment glows like a galaxy. 

You can’t help the childish smile on your face as you turn your head misty eyed to take everything in. You follow Ronal, climbing out of the water onto a rock clearing. “This cove has been a secret for generations, only Tsahíks and select apprentices have ever bore witness to the cave’s glory.” You gasp at the revelation, suddenly feeling shy that she allowed you to be part of this. You can only find yourself to lightly nod in thanks, and smile to your Tsahík in gratitude. She smiles back, as she reaches into her bag for the tools need for more extractions. 

“Here, take this jar I will show you how to properly care for the worms and take the bioluminescence liquid from them without causing harm.” You watch as she carefully grabs a glow worm, with a metal tool to scrape the goo from its body gently, as you ready the jar for the liquid to fall into. 

Your eyes widen with wonder as she continues extracting the liquid one by one, gently removing and placing the worms back on their rocks. “Here, you try.” You switch positions with her and begin your own extraction, carefully mimicking her and placing the liquid into the jar as she holds it for you. “The nectar of the glow worm possesses a mysterious healing property. 

It will help many wounds such as burns, cuts, and bruises. I use this salve to help post birth mothers heal their bodies. It is also wonderful as a lubricant.” Your head immediately whips to her, with cheeks now burning red. “Oh.” Is all you could muster, her smirk clearly finds humor in your reaction. You continue your extractions for several hours, making sure all your jars are filled to the brim with the healing nectar, as you prepare the jars into the bags to head back. “The return of the Tulkun is next week Tani, I have something I want to show you then as well.” She says softly. You smile, “Okay.” As you both sling the bags onto your backs and dive into the water, you can’t help but wonder why she added that last part to her sentence earlier today about the glow worms.

You bring back the bags into your Tsahík’s tent putting them on her shelfs one by one. She grabs a few jars and puts them in your hands. “Take these in case your family needs them.” You nod and thank her. Both of you begin to grind the herbs into a bowl for future use, then store the mangrove root sap into a dark corner in a basket. “That is for the hunting festival. It will be ready in several months to drink.” Oh. It’s alcohol. You think to yourself. “We are done for the day Tani, you did very well. Take some of these herbs too. You never know when they are needed.” You nod, packing your bag and make your way home, as the sun begins to set for the day. 

You enter your marui, noticing you’re the first one home. You take a happy sigh, and begin to unpack your new herbs and salves putting them on the shelves on your side of the tent. You start humming to yourself, happily swaying your tail back and forth as you now find your bowl of beads and halfway done armbands and necklaces. You started crafting more now that you’re apprenticing the Tsahík, your time no longer spent being a ferocious war general. 

You bring the bowl over to the mats of pillows and begin finishing the pearl and shell necklace you’re making for Jake. You’re more than halfway done so you finish by stringing the opalescent pearls and shells onto the string with the other sea foam green and blue beads. You don’t even notice Jake entering the tent until he says your name. 

You squeal with surprise as he breaks your trance. “Ah! Oh, Jake you scared me.” You laugh with your hand on your chest. He laughs with you, shaking his head. “Sorry Tani, you seemed to be real focused on that necklace.” You hum in response as you finish stringing your last bead. You weave the clasp onto the necklace and look at it with pride, as you stand up to show him your work. 

“I actually made this for you.” Your cheeks begin to flush with shyness as he carefully inspects your work. His big hands caressing the beads softly, “You made this for me?” He asks quietly. Your eyes meet, softly gazing into each other, as you nod your head shyly. “Yes, I spent several weeks finding the pearls and shells that remind me of you. Do you like it?” He smiles so wide his fangs glisten, and eyes crinkle with happiness. “Yeah I like it.” Is all he can muster to say. What he doesn’t say is that his heart is bursting wide open with joy that he fears he might crumble right in front of you. 

“Here, let me.” You say grabbing the necklace to put around his neck. You move behind him, as he grabs his hair to make room for your small hands. You weave it around the back, as he feels your hot breath on his neck sending a delicious shiver down his spine. You feel his tail accidentally brush against your thigh as he happily flicks it with excitement. A rush of electricity now surging through your own body. “There.” You pat his shoulder and walk around him to admire your work. You take in his scrumptious form, the new lifestyle making his body harder, stronger. The water training causing his muscles to fill out even more, his biceps bulging with veins, his thighs impeccably thick, his stomach now forming the abs he said goodbye to in fatherhood. 

You’re practically drooling at your husband, as he takes notice of your clear ogling. He won’t deny he likes his beautiful wife staring at him like he’s desirable. It makes him feel wanted, sexy. He can’t hide the smile on his face as he sees your eyes scanning his figure, his chest instinctively puffs out with pride. “See something you like baby?” He tests the waters with the pet name. Breaking your trance, you bat your lashes several times, with your eyes now peering into his soul, you take a step forward, placing your hand on his shoulder. “I think I do, Sayrìp handsome.” You practically purr into him, your nose nuzzling into his neck. He doesn’t know what has gotten into your sudden change in demeanor, but he does know that you’ve been trying to fill the gap between you two he’s unintentionally created since coming here. His heart aches knowing he has brushed you off as a mate, but maybe this is his second chance, and he’d be damned if he would screw this up again.

His ears perk up in intrigue as you address him, relishing in your sweet touch as you kiss his neck right under his ear. “Jake.” You whimper, “I’m tired of fighting the current between us.” He sighs deeply, knowing that you’ve noticed the distance too. “I know sweetheart, me too.” He cups your jaw lovingly, as you now gaze into each other’s amber eyes. “Maybe we can let this be a fresh start for us Jake. For the kids, for our union.” You say timidly. Jake would be a fool not to take this opportunity to mend both your hearts. He takes a deep breath, and smiles. “I think I’d like that.” 

Finally closing the space between you two, both physical and metaphorical you both bring your lips to join each other. You melt into the warmth of his lips moaning into him. He finds the right moment to sneak his tongue into your mouth, causing an enticing whimper from you. You break the kiss suddenly, now knowing what you must do. “Jake there’s somewhere I want to show you.” His eyes quizzically meet yours, understanding the unspoken desire to now finish what you two started the night of your wedding. Oh. He thinks to himself. “Okay.” He just shyly replies. 

You hastily pack a small mat into your bag, you hoist it over your shoulder. You grab his hand, and make way out of your marui, not wanting to waste a second longer. “What about the kids? They’re gonna be home soon from duties.” You turn your head to him behind you as you drag him along the village, “Tuk told me that Tsireya and the others are taking them to the cove of the ancestors at Eclipse, we have several hours before they’ll be home.” He just shakes his head and chuckles as you lead the way from the village, into the tropical forest. 

The two of you walk in comfortable silence, as you make your way into the thick of the jungle. “Where are you taking me sweetheart?” He laughs. “You’ll see Jake.” As you smile at his eagerness. You finally reach the destination, the small lake with the waterfall you and Ronal visited this morning. The flora and fauna now lighting up the sky as the sun begins to set. Jake’s eyes widen with wonder, as he appreciates the vivid scene in front of him. “Wow.” He huffs. He looks to you admiring the scenery, giving his hand a playful squeeze. “Beautiful isn’t it. And we have a Yovo fruit tree right next to us if we get hungry.” You say excitedly. 

You bring the bag down onto the ground as Jake helps you lay out the mat on the plush surface of the grass. Both of you sitting and enjoying each other’s company. “Would you like to go for a swim?” You ask raising your eyebrows to him. He swears he has gone weak in the knees for you, with that devilish grin on your face melting his jaded heart. He nods, as you begin to unfasten your beaded top. He helps you unclasp the back, as it falls to the ground, with your nipples now hard from the cool night air. His eyes bore into them, just like on your wedding night, only now he knows better than to just ogle. You shimmy out of your loincloth, gently undoing his own as he just stares at you with adoration, his heart begins to thump against his chest loudly like some horny teenager. 

You notice his sudden shy demeanor, “See something you like baby?” With a shit eating grin on your face, he laughs. “Using my own words against me? That’s not playing fair sweetheart.” You laugh, and shake your head, making your way to descend into the water, “Since when does a Sully play fair?” You say with a wink. Goddamnit this woman is a minx.

 He chases you into the water throwing you over his shoulder, both of you filled with déjà vu. You splash him as he sets you down, curling your legs over him once more. Your eyes both filled with such yearning. Without wasting a second more you both crash your lips into each other, filled with urgency and hunger. The passionate kiss sends an indescribable heat in between your legs causing a moan to escape your mouth. You can’t help but rut your hips into Jake’s stomach as he sucks on the bottom of your lip and shoves his tongue into your mouth. Your hands squeeze the back of his head hard, as you seek friction where you need him most. He senses your rapid movements as needing more, and scoops your ass up into his stomach, his own arousal now evident against your skin. 

You moan as you feel his hard bulge press against your hips, now needing more you practically beg him, “Jake, please. I’m ready. I need you.” He relishes in your whiney tone, humping him, needing him. “Okay sweetheart.” He nuzzles his nose into your neck, drowning in your delicious scent. 

He scoops you up, and brings you out of the water, and onto the mat. Your hair sprawled out, and bioluminescent dots make you look so enticing and angelic he practically growls at the sight alone. You sit yourself up, bringing your face to his, kissing him slowly. He cups your face with both hands as you mount him, but it’s not as rushed as a few moments ago. No, you’re savoring every second with your husband, as you moan into the kiss once again. You feel him rub the back of your braid, massaging it lovingly. He’s ready to seal the bond with you for life, as you bring your hand to the back of his. Both of you silently nod, as you watch your tendrils weave into the air desperately seeking union. 

The bond suddenly rips through your entire body, causing a wave of the most intense emotions you have ever experienced in your entire life. Your pupils dilate hugely, causing your amber eyes to be but small rings. You feel the wind knocked out of your lungs as you look to your mate, as he experiences the same effects. You now feel his heartbeat, his breaths, his love for you, his family, the arousal flowing through your veins as if your own. You can’t help but shiver from extreme stimulation. Both of you panting, bring your foreheads together relishing in Tsaheylu. 

Jake now filled with your own desire, also feels the yearning you’ve had for him ever since arriving to sanctuary, the love you have for his children, your home, your people. He feels the pride swell in your chest over the love you have for him, and sexual desire to make him yours. 

The current of electricity coursing through his veins, he brings eyes to meet yours. Both of you now mated for life, breathing the same breaths. “I see you.” He quietly whispers. Tears now forming in your eyes, you smile to your husband. “I see you.” Not wanting to wait any longer, he grabs your face for a burning kiss, his tongue immediately assaulting your mouth once again. 

You instinctively grab his throbbing length, causing a moan to escape his mouth. He litters kisses from your jaw, to your neck, making his way down to your collarbone leaving a trail of wet marks on your blue skin. He lays you down on the mat again, boring into your eyes. I need this man to fuck me now or else I’ll burst! You thought transferred to him. He chuckles, with your eyes going wide with confusion. “Babygirl, the bond makes it so that we can hear each other’s thoughts.” You whimper, “Well you heard me, Jake.” 

He smirks at your desperation. He brings his head down dipping into your breasts, playing with a nipple in his mouth sucking softly. You lift your chest in pleasure as he swirls his tongue around the bud, massaging the other with his free hand. You writhe underneath him from the stimulation as he continues to suck and lick harshly. With a sudden pop, he brings his mouth down to your stomach, a wet trail of kisses leading down your body. “Can I taste you pretty girl?” As he gazes up to your hooded lids completely lost in pleasure. “Yes!” You whine. He swears he might cum from your own arousal alone. He dips his head in between your soft thighs, gripping them with his large hands, as he slowly kisses your legs, inching closer and closer to where your sopping wet heat needs him.

He gingerly licks your swollen bud, causing a long moan to tear into the forest, as you throw your head back in bliss. Never being touched by a man your senses are on overdrive, and being sent straight into your mate as well. He relishes in your euphoria, as he begins to suck a little harshly. You buck your hips into his face as he begins to eat you out like a man starved. Your nectar coating his chin, he’s completely enveloped in your heat.

His animalistic urges take over as he shoves his face harder into your heat, moaning loudly as he dips his tongue into your silky folds. Your hands grip his locs tightly, as you begin to feel a burning sensation your stomach. He gently takes his two fingers and slides them into your pussy, in a come here motion, causing a surge of pleasure to course through your whole body. He feels it instantly, as it goes straight to his length, he restrains himself from his own pleasure as he continues licking your silky pussy drinking every last drop. 

He feels you’re close, by plunging in one more finger quickening his pace to reach your orgasm. Your thighs begin to shake, and vision spots as you scream into the air, “Jake! I’m-cum, I’m coming!” As you soak his face with your juices. He growls into your heat shoving his nose into your throbbing pearl, drinking your nectar as you ride your climax. Your breathing begins to slow as your body heaves, he sits up sucking his fingers of your juices one by one. You can only stare at him in awe. 

Your hooded eyes make contact with his as you slam your mouth into his, tasting your arousal on his wet lips. He moans into the kiss as you grab his throbbing length again, this time pumping it hastily as you feel it jump in your hands. He groans from sudden contact, breaking the kiss. “Sweetheart if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to have my way with you.” His chest now heaving, you feel him refraining to cum right there, as you remove your hand and nod your head. 

He gently grips your waist, as you mount him, your hips hovering his cock. “This might hurt at first, but if it’s too much for you, tell me to stop and I will okay?” He reassures you. All you can do is nod, as you slowly sink onto his length, all 14 inches. Your brows pinch together with a slight pinch of pain from him entering, but the climax he gave you slicked your walls nicely, that he slides into you without any friction.

You sit on his length for a moment, the air in your lungs re entering, as he’s patiently waiting for you to adjust to the new sensation, by caressing your braids softly. You bring your mouth to his, kissing him lightly as you tell him to move his hips through the bond. He gingerly snaps them up, causing you to gasp in pleasure, the pain of your hymen breaking now replaced with pure euphoria. You start to roll your hips excitedly against his, with his pelvis brushing against your already stimulated clit, “Oh!” You squeal. Jake’s ears perked to the sweet sound of your voice as he thrusts his hips to meet yours. “Fuck!” He whimpers into your ear. You two find a delicious rhythm, as your body begins to beg for more. “Jake faster, please, I can handle it.” You moan. “Yeah?” He thumps into your pelvis. “You want it fast babygirl? I’ll give you fast.” 

He takes your hips and flips your body onto your back, spreading your legs wide. This new angle allows him to go much deeper than before, as he slams his hips into your pelvis, balls slap against your skin loudly. “Agh!” You squeal in pleasure, your sweet sounds encouraging him to keep moving. He thumps his hips into yours as you curl your hand to the back of his head slamming a searing kiss into him, as he feels the ecstasy flow from you to him. His cock aching for a release, feels your silky walls tighten on him begging for another orgasm, “Fuck! Babygirl you feel amazing. Fuck I love you!” He huffs into your mouth. Your vision begins to spot again as you whimper into your mate’s mouth, “Agh! I love you too!” 

The sound of your bodies colliding mixed with the squelching of your pussy fills your ears with lewd bliss. The fire in your belly making its way, as Jake takes his hand to rub your swollen bud feverishly. 

He feels you’re close, hell he’s close because he can feel you’re almost there too. “Oh! Jake I’m coming again!” The delicious combination of his relentless rhythm, and your swollen bud being rubbed you swear you see Eywa herself as your climax tears through your entire body causing you to shudder violently. Your pussy clenches down on your mate’s length, causing him to cum right there, his hot seed filling your womb as he grips your face for a searing kiss. The rhythm of your bodies colliding, slow down as you both come down from bliss. He slumps onto your chest, as you feel tears brimming in your eyes. 

He feels your emotion through Tsaheylu, as he brings his head to meet yours in concern, “Hey what is it pretty girl? Why are you crying?” He takes you in his arms as you sniffle lightly. “These are happy tears Jake. I am so happy. We are now mated for life.” You say with the most heartwarming smile he’s ever seen. His emotions begin to get the best of him, as your love for each other gets shared, his own eyes now watering. “Thank you for taking a chance on an old man like me. I know I’m not the easiest to be around, but I will do my best for you and this family Tani.” He whispers into your ear. “I know Jake. I know” 

You embrace each other as a mated pair that evening, relishing in the bond, not once breaking Tsaheylu. You feed each other Yovo fruit and go for several more rounds of love making before you make your way back to your shared home still linked together. You hold hands the entire walk home, walking through the village, some people stare at you knowing what has occurred, with both of your connected kurus being the most obvious clue. They respectfully nod their heads, as you make way to the family marui, to ready dinner, and to be with your family, finally as one.

[redrobin-detective]

Guys I'm so emotional thinking of Skull throughout the years.

Skull, who refused to die peacefully and almost died a second time because he finally found something worth dying for. Only to come back and get the chance to live the life he never got.

Imagine Skull as a proper member of Lockwood and Co, out of his jar and free to help solve mysteries and take down dangerous visitors. It's exhilarating and he feels so powerful with his colleagues side by side with him. He never stop giving the team shit and being overall kind of a grouch but no human or ghost ever comes close to them when their overprotective type three is around.

Skull is powerful enough that he's able to stick around even when other Visitors are slipping back to the Other Side. He clings with everything he's got to this life he's building. As the Problem dies down, new challenges arise: dating and marriages and babies. He officiates the Locklyle wedding to the confusion of most of the guests. Grumbles but is also secretly relieved he's not invited on the honeymoon. Makes silly faces at newborn babies from a ghost touch safe distance. He watches the various children like a hawk and tells wild made up stories when the parents aren't listening. He swears up and down he just got some ectoplasm in his eye when a child shows off a school made family tree with good ole Uncle Skully tucked into the corner.

Lockwood's bad shoulder gives him trouble, George has high blood pressure and Lucy finds she can't read a damn thing without glasses. They're well into middle age, greying, wrinkled and Skull loves them just the same. He's forever stuck in his mid-teens but he's fought beside and grown up with this amazing, stupid little group. Lucy asks him once if he ever thought about moving on and Skull truthfully tells her that he can't imagine doing so without them. He finds hobbies: he takes up painting, learns to drive, even helps George write a book detailing Visitors and the Other Side. He gives baking a go but things tend to go wrong when you can't taste what you're making.

It does get harder as they age quicker and Skull realizes how limited time is. One by one they go, peaceful and easy and buried with the highest honors as a nation mourns its heroes. He waits to see if any of them will come back, maybe spend a few decades causing mischief with him but they don't. They led full, fulfilling lives, unlike him, they had no reason to stick around. Lucy is the last, even as her mind is going her ears are still sharp as ever. He whispers to her she needs to eat, to take her medicines. She looks around blearily, asking who's talking to her.

He couldn't bear to see her when she passes. He's kept her stupid, stubborn, reckless ass safe for years but he can't save her from this. Nor would she want him to. He waits on the Other Side for her, hoping for even just a glimpses. Skull catches sight of her walking into the distance, she looks back at him and beckons him forward. He wasn't ready 200 years ago but now that he's lived a life as an agent, a fun uncle, an artist, a scholar and Lucy Carlyle-Lockwood's best mate. For the first time ever, he's able to take her hand and walk towards whatever lies in store for them.

The kids bury their mum with the now empty skull knowing that, their souls are together.

[annaplaybook]

How I Play Generations in The Sims 1: A Full Review 📕

Edit: I'm adding the link to my old post, which includes the mods I use. And an updated version of the calendar here (Independence Day is now on day 30.)

Lifespan Progression:

Babies have a specific birthdate marked on the calendar on the day they’re born.

Children age up to adults on their birthdate (this can take up to 5 weeks).

Adults live for 10 weeks (2 months).

To track the days in the game, I use the calendar mod and a custom calendar image for manually tracking birthdays and holidays. I'll tell more about the holidays later.

Birth and Death Dates:

When a baby is born, I note their birthdate on the family calendar. Their birthdate is also their death date, marking the end of their lifespan.

Once a child ages up to an adult, their next birthday becomes their death date, giving them 10 weeks to live.

For Sims created in CAS and townies, I randomize their death dates.

Here’s an example with one family: Leland and his wife, Oliviana, moved in during Week 3, Day 17. I rolled a die from 1 to 30 to determine their death dates:

Leland: Day 24

Oliviana: Day 18

This means they live past the standard 10-week lifespan, which works well for storytelling. Leland has a backstory of relying on his family due to a medical condition. Since Oliviana will pass first, Leland's children might need to stay with him a bit longer.

Their children, Han and Benji, also have randomized birthdays:

Han: Day 10 (birthday in Week 5)

Benji: Day 19 (a week later)

This gives their parents a chance to spend time with them and, if lucky, meet their grandchildren.

Biographies:

Biographies are essential to each Sim's identity. These can be short or long, as long as they reflect something about them. Interests can inspire story elements, for example, a Sim interested in "Hollywood" or "Romance" may avoid marriage, while one interested in "Money" might be interested in crime. A child's transition to adulthood with random appearance can help shape their story as well!

Rotation Gameplay:

I play each family for 7 days before switching. If there's an event (holiday, birthday, wedding), I stay with the family until the event is over.

Manual Calendar:

To track birthdays and holidays manually, I created a custom calendar that matches the mod weekends. Each holiday falls on a different weekend day to keep things fresh without being overwhelming.

Independence Day: Either a summer vacation or a fun day at home.

Halloween: Host a party or visit Magic Town.

Christmas: Celebrate for two days with a vacation or at home.

Love Day: A day for a romantic date, or a chance for singles to meet someone new.

Moving Out: There are currently 4 options for an adult to move out.

Inheriting the parents house and living with them.

Moving out with the whole family to a multifamily house.

Parent(s)/siblings leaving the house and the neighborhood, using Shaklin's mod. But the price is losing all contact with them and not seeing them again.

If a Sim has a friend or partner who lives in the neighborhood, and I want them to live together, I will control that sim for the move-in interaction.

Family Tree:

I track each playable household’s family tree using Family Echo, a website that lets me add all necessary information. This is great for storytelling; for example, I could add an “unknown woman” as a past wife for a widowed Sim, even if she wasn’t in the game.

Babies:

I haven't found the exact odds of the chance card for having a baby, but it doesn't happen often. So when the option appears, I usually pick yes. If a baby wasn't part of the plan based on the family's story, house, or size, I use this method:

First, I generate a number between 10 and 50. This result becomes the chance of keeping the baby.

Next, I generate a number between 1 and 100. If this second number is equal to or less than the first, the pregnancy is successful. If it's higher, they are not keeping the baby.

Here's an example to clarify:

I generate a number between 10 and 50. Let's say I got 37. That means there is 37% that we will keep the baby. I then generate a second number between 1 and 100. The number is 89. Since 89 is greater than 37, we do not keep the baby.

Last But Not Least - Weeks Tracking: When I play with a family, I keep track of which week of the month they’re in and how many days remain until each Sim’s next birthday or death date. I also mark the last day I played with them, so I know where to pick up in the next rotation.

❤️🏡❤️🏡❤️🏡❤️🏡❤️🏡

I didn't want to add additional rules that depend on interests, careers or money, as it can make the gameplay a bit complicated. I use their interests and personality for storytelling at times. And matching their career accordingly. When a family have to move out, I use the money cheat and see it as an inheritance. If one sim is famous, I will give them a sum of money. But no more than once. And when it comes to relationships, the sim they get along with the most will be their partner. But it can be flexible for interesting twists and stories.

Thank you for reading!

❤️🏡❤️🏡❤️🏡❤️🏡❤️🏡.

[fairytale-poll]

ROUND 3A, MATCH 3 OUT OF 4!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Giselle Lai:

Girlie has 3 different possible princes and one is the princess! Need I say more? I will anyway! She gets the Cinder nickname from her first love interest because she snuck out of home through the chimney to try and meet up with the princess. She falls into the lap of her second love interest the next day when eavesdropping on him from a tree, and then the princess steals her away for the afternoon. The princess literally says she won't get married if it means she'll never see Giselle again and they almost kiss. Girl is such a powerful Cinderella, she has 3 bad bitches to choose from!

This webtoon turns this fairytale entirely on its head. Giselle is actually a noblewoman - well, girl. She has a mother who cares about their reputation as Giselle's father is dead. Her two older sisters are trying to find husbands but seem to be nice, in a sisterly kind of way. But the reason she's a Cinderella candidate is because her mum forbids her to go to the circus. And, when Giselle tries to sneak out as the three of them are leaving for a ball, her mum locks her into her room. So, determined as she is, Giselle manages to climb out of the chimney and out into the city. She's covered in soot and forgets to take money, so she's unable to get in through the front of the tent. Instead, she has to sneak in and meets Ashe. He/They is part of the act and Giselle gets caught up in it. Since he doesn't know her name, Ashe begins calling her Cinder-girl. Also, Giselle was meant to meet the princess to go to the circus, but meets her later in the park, where it's very obvious that the princess is in love with Giselle. And who Giselle might be attracted to, as well! AND, there's also Lord Elliot, who's not actually Lord Elliot, but a guy posing as a dead guy, who may or may not want to marry Giselle when she comes of age or marry one of her sisters. Also, also! The butler looks away when Giselle sneaks in and out, enabling her to be able to "go to the ball", as it were. There's a lot going on and the comic is a lot of fun. And the art is amazing! I really recommend it.

Queen Cinderella Charming:

She's kind, she's funny, she learns to use a sword, and she's related to Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Red Riding Hood. She helps the protagonists any chance she gets and even hosts their mother and step-father's wedding. She never gives up and  never lets her fear stop her. Absolute queen (literally)

While she isn't hugely relevant in the story itself, she is always down to help out the protagonists where she can. When they need one of her slippers, she sneaks it into their bag without them noticing. She calls them family. She loves her daughter too, and is a badass mom.

When the main characters need her glass slipper for a spell, she snuggled it into their bag, and she has a daughter named Hope

I think she’s a minor character in the first book, but she’d really nice and stuff!

Because I LOVE HER!! also she has a daughter called Hope who got kidnapped by rumplestiltskin at one point but that is besides the point. She is a strong independent woman and we love those she was NOT about to sit around doing nothing and i love her for that

Vote Land of Stories Cinderella because she's the best!!!

hi uhm you are all legally obligated to vote for the land of stories cinderalla btw . please

Everyone vote for Queen Cinderella Charming!!! She deserves this!!!!!

CINDERELLA FROK TLOS. DO IT FOR ME

[noroi1000]

May I request something which is sort of a scenario as a part of the the recent mafia gojo fic since as it has arranged marriage if i were to be expanding this request it would also be an arranged marriage too so it would be better if connected to the mafia gojo oneshot. So basically the scenario could be in their wedding life when they didn't have kids and it's basically reader's ability to be playful and cheerful when she wants to which is a loveable traits of hers and here in this scenario reader n gojo r making fun of the people they hate in the mafia world while reading is dramatically impersonating them perfectly making both gojo n reader laugh when gojo guesses the right person who reader is impersonating which is just many of the reasons gojo gave up his playboy life because of falling deeply in love with her even though she might not reciprocate his love but certainly treats him well. This could be a scenario when they're on their luxurious honeymoon trip but again not an necessary

( Sorry if this wasn't clear as english is not my native language ) 

I don't love him, but I want to be with him 3

"Haha! And then – And then Gakuganji always makes silly faces!” He said laughing.

He suddenly grabbed his cheeks, pulling them down slightly, simulating that he had wrinkles.

And he also stretched his jaw forward to lisp and change his voice.

You laughed when you heard his stories about the people who attended their meetings.

This Gakuganji is an elder from another mafia.

He is like an antiquated tree, but the older he gets, the more he needs.

Especially when it comes to their contract with the Gojo family.

The old man was in several other mafias for many years. But they were all the strongest.

You were laughing at him because every time he sees someone from Gojo, he looks like he suddenly got rabies.

You've seen him once or twice, and you confirm what your husband says.

This man looks like a bulldog that's already wrinkled too much. He gets a sudden rage when he sees Satoru and wants to attack. Whenever she yells at him, it sounds like he's barking.

You watched as Satoru twisted his face with his fingers, and started mimicking what the old man said.

"Young man.... Respect your elders.... You damn brat.... The youth of today have no respect at all... Gojo Satoru, don't be a child and stop smiling!" he said, faking his voice, only to lie down on the couch later and laugh with a little red on his cheeks from the heat inside the room.

When your laughter died down, you wanted to ask him something.

Have you ever wondered why his head is so big...

"Satoru, I have a question." You said before giggling softly. "Why does his head look like a melon that is slowly molding?"

He gave you a questioning look before bursting out laughing, imagining a melon with a gray beard and those brows like moths.

"Don't you think he looks a bit like a moth?" he asked hugging a pillow to his chest.

You corrected yourself as you sat in the chair next to him.

"Moth?" You grunted suddenly imagining a moth yelling at Satoru.

You started laughing.

He, when he imagined a moth in his clothes, also began to laugh. A hairy insect that holds a wooden cane.

Laughing, he shifted to the side, and suddenly fell off the couch, hitting the wooden floor with a thud.

He uttered a soft "uh" as he fell, but he continued to laugh as the image of the Gakuganji moth still lingered in his mind.

Before you could ask if he was okay, you imagined his face falling off his head, from old age.

"What this time? Tell me!" he moaned with a red face.

"After all, he looks like his face has started to roll down from old age..." you muttered.

"You're right! Go down!" He laughed, laying on his back. "He's going to be walking on his own beard soon! I'm waiting for him to ride bike and he'll get caught in the chain of his bike now!"

You had enough, you kept laughing.

Your faces were red when you couldn't breathe properly and your faces were already aching from smiling.

You got down from your chair wanting to get a drink because laughing really made you thirsty for water.

Walking forward, you caught your foot on the mafia boss - your husband - lying on the floor.

Falling onto his chest, you laughed, not even bothering to get down.

You do not care.

You can rest like this...

Lying on top of him, you listened to his breathing and his soft laugh. Also laughing all the time.

You sat down suddenly on his stomach and smiled as you dug your finger into his chest.

"Guess who I'm pretending to be, okay?" You grunted as you waited for his response.

"Only if I get a reward~." He gave you a smile.

"What's that?" You asked slightly serious, but there was still a smile on your lips.

"Kiss~."

You looked at him questioningly.

"Fine. You'll get a kiss." you put your finger on his cheek. "Then guess who it is."

Suddenly you took an empty glass from the table and pretended to drink something.

"Nanami?" he asked seeing you pretending.

You can pretend to drink tea.

You shook your head.

You pushed the glass away and brought it closer again, tapping the edge of your hand lightly on the neck. Hoping it will look like you're showing you're drinking alcohol.

"Hmm... Shoko?" he asked, placing two fingers on his chin.

You shook your head again.

You took the glass and pretended to drink very greedily.

"Oh! That Zenin Drunker!" he chuckled pointing at you.

"You guessed it." You smiled. "So your reward."

You leaned in and placed your lips on his soft cheek.

At the same time, he grabbed your arms and flipped you onto your side so you were underneath him.

As he grabbed your thighs, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

He connected your lips in a long kiss.

You didn't mind him touching you.

You've been in this forced marriage for a few months now, and there's a lot more going on between you than just hugging and kissing.

You put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away so you could catch your breath.

Your relationship as lovers allows you to do that.

"I remember what happened on our honeymoon." he said with a smile as he gently placed his stomach and hips against your body. Still keeping part of his body on the forearms that were on either side of your head.

"I didn't want it."

"But you rode with me anyway." replied. "And it was on this island where we were, I really realizing that you are the woman I'm starting to fall in love with."

You looked at him, slightly disbelieving.

You can't get used to him saying that...

He still does it, even if it would hurt anyone to know that someone they love doesn't feel the same way.

It would be really painful. But he doesn't show it.

Because it's enough for him that you like him. That you treat him as a close person without love.

That you're with him, and you're happy about it.

He knew that now, after these few months with him, you don't want to change that.

Your behavior and all you made him feel that you are important to him. Even if you don't love him, he will still love you.

Every time he looked into your eyes, he felt like he was drowning in it. He was drowning in feeling.

It was the first love he had.

Even if there was something before you, it wasn't the same.

He's never been married before. He didn't know what it was like.

And now that he's bound to you somehow forever, he felt different.

"But I... I'm sorry..." you muttered.

"I do not mind. You will still be with me. After all, you're happy." he said with a smile. "We're together."

"I like being with you."

He was glad to hear that.

Even if you didn't love him, you treated him the way a wife treats her husband.

He gave up his life for you.

You placed your hands on his cheeks, stroking them gently.

You want to do something to make your happiness last much longer.

Something so that your happiness does not disappear.

You want to be with him all the time.

To keep your life like this, you can do anything to just be with it longer.

And suddenly he called back.

"Have you ever thought about children?"

[piracytheorist]

Have you watched my big fat greek wedding?

Watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding at least once was basically a cultural must for Greeks, from baby boomers to maybe even early gen Z-ers. Not that people older than boomers wouldn't watch it, it's just that boomers were the first generation fully comfortable with using a TV. Even if your family didn't buy the vhs/dvd, the film plays like every year on the TV since it came out so it's really, really hard to miss.

I have fond memories of watching it but I haven't watched it full in many years so I have no idea if it's aged badly XD

I can't talk about the accuracy of the film, since it focuses on Greek immigrants (now why some of those immigrants are played by Italian actors is fucking beyond me) and I haven't lived away from Greece, but I can guess that because those people live away from Greece, they may tend to overdo it on the traditions. Like, the wedding itself is pretty accurate, though maybe a little exaggerated for mainland Greek standards. I don't think I've ever been to a wedding with multiple bridesmaids who also wore matching dresses, and I've been to quite a few weddings. But again, it's the abundant appliance of traditions mixed with whatever American traditions the family picked up during their integration, so from that standpoint it may make sense. Idk. I haven't attended any weddings abroad XD

The parents are quite accurate, though. The father going like "Get married, make babies" is 100% overbearing parent of that generation, though it's usually the mothers doing that. The big ass family tree with multiple cousins with the same name is also accurate - my brother shares his name with two of our cousins, and my sister with one. The reason for that is that, at least up until late millenials, babies were named after one of their grandparents. So if a grandparent had three children and all of them had kids, there would be a chance that they'd have three grandchildren with their name (and we tend to have male and female versions of the same name, so you can be called Konstantinos and have a granddaughter named Konstantina). It's still kept as a tradition today but not as much as in earlier years.

Overall the film is pretty close to the average Greek's worldview, though again, influenced by the first generation immigrating to another country far away.

That said, in our family we quote "He's a xeno!" and "Ine keki mori (It's a cake, you dumb) / Ah! It's a KEK!" all the time.

Wait, no, edit: Because I need to say this, when Toula's brothers trick Ian into shouting in front of everyone "I have three balls", the word he uses in Greek is a heavy swear word for "balls". Like, we also have euphemisms like that that may be used for lighter occasions, but the "αρχίδια" that he says is the equivalent of saying "dick" rather than "penis". At least the way I view it, maybe "balls" in that context is heavy, but like, it's pretty much of a potty mouth to say "αρχίδια" and it looks weird for it to be simply translated as "balls" XD

[disrcpairs]

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝         alisha boe,  26,  cis woman,  she + her.    announcing  the  arrival  of  ARYA  of  house  STARK,  the  LADY  of  WINTERFELL.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  EFFUSIVE  and  FLIGHTY  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  exploring, archery.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  wolf wandering in wait in the woods, dusting of snow sprinkling the wind, disposition reminiscent of warmed chocolate in frigid cold.  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  THE  STARKS.

*      𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬      .

full   name   : arya stark nickname ( s )   : n/a age   :   twenty six gender   +   pronouns   : cis woman, she + her height   :   five   foot,   six   inches   nameday : june 23rd, cancer sexuality  : demiromantic, demisexual marital   status   :  unbetrothed, unmarried status : lady of winterfell spoken languages : common tongue accent : westerosi nationality : westerosi

*      𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞      .

faceclaim : alisha boe ethnicity : the first men hair : mix of black, brown, honeyed blonde eyes : dark brown scent : snow + chocolate dominant hand : left build : slender allergies : none scars : many from playing in the woods, with her siblings, etc. distinguishing features : beauty marks and moles clothing style : typical of the north, muted colors while in the south

*      𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧     .

mbti :   the adventurer    enneagram :   the enthusiast element :   air    temperament :   choleric   character   inspirations :   elle woods, lucy ricardo, myrcella baratheon deadly   sin :   envy heavenly   virtue :   diligence    godly   parent :   iris

*      𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬     .

hobbies :  exploring, archery   religion :  the old gods  alliance :  the north, only personal goals :  recover from her brother's death  would they choose family or power ? family without question

*      𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬     .

theon stark : sibling, alive shirei stark : good sister, alive lysen stark : sibling, deceased martyn stark : sibling, alive lyana + benjen stark : niece and nephew, alive

*      𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬      .

arya's direwolf is named shade. black with dark brown streaks, black muzzle and golden eyes. she's protective of all of the starks. has a similar temperament of arya and can be seen rough housing with her and playing in the snow, agile and quick. easily riled up but will calm quickly around arya, if arya is also calm. doesn't like to be stagnant or at rest and will go on romps through the woods when the need suits her but will return.

arya finds court in the south to be stuffy and fake. keeping others happy with pretty words is the least of her concern, and is rough around the edges in terms of manners and propriety. she'd rather comb the grounds, climb trees, and watch the world from above than to hear more about weddings and dragons.

in winterfell she would go missing for days on end, only to be found at wintertown or returned once she'd gone after and found whatever it was that had caught her attention in the forests. with shade as a dutiful companion she'd never thought to think of danger, but after king's landing she thinks it's unnecessary to come at the beck and call of the queen. she's only spoken these thoughts to martyn, as the closeness of theon and rhaeys makes her nervous to speak her mind.

*      𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲      .

to be added with plotting.

[aphroditestummyrolls]

Also Colm and Marya 😭💕

Hi again 🥰 thanks for asking for this one— I am still working on it, real life just got in the way!

He brushed away her Kerch politeness with a wave of his hand. “It’s nothing— after all, you’re family.”

It was a strange thought. The words felt clunky and untrue on his tongue, even though, logically, they were absolute fact. Marya Hendriks was now bound to him as family, through the marriage of their sons. He had led Jesper down the grand aisle of the Church of Barter himself, not a week prior. His son was grown.

Jesper was married.

It was overwhelming, almost claustrophobic, all of a sudden. His family had consisted of no one but a wild boy on the other side of the sea and the spirit of his wife for so long. Now, his home was full of life, his boy was somebody’s husband, and this woman was an in-law.

He liked Marya just fine. It wasn’t as if he disliked her. Saints knew Colm adored Wylan, and— despite their lengthy and traumatic separation— she and her son were still so notably similar. She was quiet, and a little overly formal to Colm’s frontier sensibilities, but she was perfectly charming. And oh, what a great help she’d been during the last weeks wedding preparations, navigating the pomp and circumstance of Geldstraat wedding customs, and… and all the danger and drama leading, finally, to the ceremony. Marya Hendriks was a good woman.

Colm just didn’t really know her at all. It was a stiff, awkward thing, to call a stranger family.

She seemed just as flustered by the use of the word, smoothing her skirts where she sat in the grass. “Well, regardless, it’s very kind of you. A ceremony out here seems to suit the boys much better. They seem… at ease.”

Out here everyone’s actually happy for them, he thought to himself, truly happy, with no damned murder plots up their sleeves. He bit his cheek against the sourness, but he couldn’t deny the memories of the last few weeks. Colm sat through that gilded ceremony balancing the pride and joy of his only son’s marriage, with the knowledge that so many people in that same hall were hateful and false.

He cleared his throat, and wished he hadn’t given Addy the last of his whiskey, if only to get the bitter taste of anger out of his mouth.

“I’m glad they chose to celebrate out here as well.” He said.

Her laugh surprised him, blinking his gaze away from the yellow lighted windows of the house to her incredulous face.

“No need to be so diplomatic, Colm. Mercher society is… not for everyone.”

He huffed a rough laugh of his own. “And that’s just the way they like it! They made that plenty clear.” Shaking his head, the bluster deflated from him. It was odd— they couldn’t be too far off in age, yet she still seemed so young to him. It was hard to believe that, at one point, she had been a teenaged socialite, marrying into that world, too. “Was it so hostile back when you were married?”

He only thought after he’d said the words, that it was maybe a bit too personal of a question. But Marya only shrugged. “Perhaps it was, but there was no reason that it would be directed at me— yet. I suppose there were warning signs, but I breezed right by them. No one knew yet, how unfit of a match I was—“

“I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s quite alright, Colm. Sometimes it still hurts to remember, but… Now, I get to be in his life again. And I’m not the naive girl I was when I stood at that altar.”

Night was falling swiftly around them, petals drifting down from Addy’s tree and crickets chirping in the quiet. It felt like a lament. Again, she looked like Wylan, with that faraway look in her brown eyes. She ducked her head for a moment, and the look was gone. He couldn’t fathom what these two people had endured.

Colm swallowed before he tentatively dared to break the quiet. “He’s lucky to have you in his corner.”

“Jesper does too—“ she smiled, “we’re family, after all.”

This little oneshot is part of the engagement series! As a missing scene/epilogue to the actual wedding fic. That fic is hinted a little bit in here— it’s High Drama and Very Intense 😅👍 I like the idea of them having their big Kerch ceremony for Legal and Traditional Purposes™️, and then holding a small, private exchange of vows with their closest family and friends out at the farm. Under Aditi’s cherry tree. 🥰🌸🥰🌸

Thank you so much for playing! ❤️

[queenmuzz]

WiP Wednesday: Another Link in the Chain

A Emmrich x Rook Angst story

It’s winter time, and Emmrich wants to go out, wants to skate the frozen river, wants to go out to play with friends.  Twilight is fast approaching, but he doesn’t care. He’s eight years old, he doesn’t need his mother to go with him anymore, he’s a big boy,  the dark doesn’t scare him anymore.

But he’s also a dutiful son, the only child of the Volkarin household, so when his mother tells him that he can only go out after supper, and that supper takes place only after his father returns home, he bites his tongue and completes his chores.  Tend the fire, and set the table.  The latter he does eagerly, the sooner his father could sit down to eat, the sooner he could go out.  Hopefully his friends wouldn’t have wandered off in boredom, leaving him alone.  He hated being left alone.

The former chore, keeping the hearth alight, was much less fun.  It was the only thing that kept their creaky, drafty tenement house warm, but he had it drilled into him that he couldn’t just dump wood into it willy nilly, fuel was hard to come by, especially in the depths of winter.  He had come to realize at an early age that his family could not afford simple things that others could.  Yes, his belly was always full, and he would never lack for clothing, but he had noticed that his parents were thin, their clothing was patched and shabby.  But they were happy together, with their matching set of wedding rings, the way they both told him he was destined for great things, and he could never deny that they loved him more than anything in the world.

And that’s why he did his best to use the least amount of fuel to keep the fire burning.  He might not be able to bring in money, like his mother's cooking, but he could help by saving a copper or two.

The door opens, bringing a gust of cold air as the tall lanky figure of Rupert Volkarin comes in. 

“Father!”  He throws himself at the man who laughs, catches him and spins him around.  

“How’s my little Emmi doin’?” He sets him down with an exaggerated groan. “Not so little now either, eh?”

“My name is Emmrich!” He pouts even as he still clings to him like a toddler.  Unlike other Nevarran children, he has no repulsion of the scent that permeates the man’s clothing.  Yes, had heard enough from the older kids at school, the insults about his father’s profession. He really didn’t care.  Sure, his father was a butcher, but that didn’t make him any worse than any father.  He was just doing what he had to survive.  He remembers seeing a Dalish Caravan passing through the countryside, and the way they revered the forest and trees, and yet they chopped down trees when need called for it.

“Well ‘Emmrich’,” his mother’s stern, yet loving voice comes from behind.  "Your father is tired, and probably wants to clean up before supper.  Would you be a dear, and heat up some water in the kettle?  Enough for the wash basin and to steep the tea?”

He nods as he runs over to the fireplace and shoves another log into the hearth, stoking the flames.  His father walks over and embraces his mother, sweeping her in a tender kiss as they make their way up the narrow rickety stairs.  He smiles at how much they adore each other.  Some of his friends’ parents can’t seem to stand each other.  Not his. They were so deeply in love, despite their humble situation.  When he grows up, he’s going to find his special person.  No matter what it takes.

He lugs the water to fill the kettle.  It’s going to take a long time to heat it all up, and it’ll use up a lot of wood.

Emmrich thinks hard.  He wants to go out with friends before bedtime, and he doesn’t want to use the precious fuel that his father and mother work so hard to afford.  What if there was a way to…

His arm tingles, and he reaches towards the fire.  He’s had dreams like this, urges to unlock something within him.   That he could tap into the energies of his dreams, bring them to this world and create flames without using wood.  He closes his eyes and tries to replicate the action he’s done while he slumbered.

Three things happen:  An explosion of hot air, so powerful that it knocks him back across the room, into the wall.  

The creak of the ceiling beam, always noisy on windy days, begins to shriek and crack..

And most alarming of all, a figure, cloaked and masked has suddenly appeared out of nowhere.  The only distinguishing feature is piercing grey, almost silver eyes that are locked on him. 

[heavenlyhoundoom]

Fnaf next generation au facts.(trigger warning, death and miscarriage.)

1.This universe takes place in January, fifteenth, 2032.

2.Blossom is the oldest of three daughters with her younger sisters being Mavis(31) and Penny(29).

3.Moon and Blossom are thrity three and will be thirty four later that year.

4.Blossom's mom is a blue opossum named Skye(brown eyes) and her dad is a pink oppossum named Jason(purple eyes).

5.Mavis had kids before Blossom.(Her husband is a brown fruitbat with yellow eyes named Dylan, their oldest kid is a purple fruitbat with brown eyes and markings named Bridget(8), and their youngest kid is a brown opossum with purple markings and yellow eyes named Percy(6).)

6.Lulu is a middle child with an older brother and a younger sister.

7.Moondrop is a rainbow baby and Eclipse is the older brother he and Sundrop never got to meet.

8.History repeated itself with Moondrop's daughter Luna is also a rainbow baby with Hannah(would've been a harlequin oppossum with the right fur being pink and the left fur being black, and having brown eyes) being the older sister she and Trixie never got to meet.

9.Speaking of family members Luna and Trixie never got to meet, Moondrop and Sundrop's father, Oswald passed away before either of them had kids.(based on how Chilli's mother passed away before she had kids and had to learn to be a mom without her)

10.Oswald died in a work accident shortly after Blossom and Moondrop got married.

11.Luna's family and Bella's family are neighbors who live two houses from eachother.

12.They show will mainly focus and Sundrop and Moondrop's family tree, with the episodes focusing on Moondrop's family taking place in Rochester, New York while the episodes focusing on Sundrop's family taking place in Canandaigua, New York.

13.Sundrop and Moondrop grew up in Skeneatles, New York with their childhood home looking like this.(Their mother, Astra still lives there.)

14.Luna's best friend is Emily while Trixie's best friend is a red macaque named Scarlett.

15.Scarlett is actually the daughter of Blossom's childhood friend, Mango(female toucan).

16.The ages of the kids: Luna(7), Trixie(5), Fuzzy(6), Cosmo(4), Emily(7), Bella(7), Charlie(5), Scarlett(5), Lucia(10), Kasumi(8), Petunia(6), Gilbert(5), Brucie(7), Crystal(4), Freddy Jr(9), Lolbit(9), Andrew(8), Mabel(10), Edwardo(8), Liam(6).

17. The jobs of the parents: Moondrop: Gymnastics instructor, Blossom: Real esate agent, Sundrop: Daycare attendant, Lulu: Software engineer, Willy: Animator, Lisa: Film director, Bonnie: Music teacher, Chica: Food critic, Mango: Surgeon, Frank(Scarlett's dad): Pet groomer, Tito: Guitarist, Toki: Wedding designer, Gus: Tour guide, Oakley: Activist, Cammy: Fashion designer, Arty: Artist, Sara: Florist, Knighty: Bodyguard, Freddy: Pizzeria owner, Paula: Yoga instructor, Foxy: Fish market owner, Vixen: Make-up artist, Ozzie: Pilot, Harold: Accountant, Roxanne: Racer, Katie: Game developer, El chip: Chef, Happyfrog: Babysitter.

18.Unlike her older sisters, Penny decided to not have kids because she believes that she doesn't have the patience needed to properly raise them.

19.Happyfrog has a little sister named Phoebe.(Pheobe has two daughters)

20.Just like Oswald, Happyfrog and Phoebe's mother, Dixie passed away before her grandchildren ever got to meet her.

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Notes: Hello lovely people, once again I wanted to thank you for all your support I really appreciate it. This chapter is a shorter one and for that I apologize but it is needed in order to move us onto the next one. I wasn't sure if I was happy with this one but I hope I did it justice and it doesn't disappoint. Also I wanted to ask; how are readers feeling about the flashback chapters? Are we liking them or would the story be better without? And if you lovely readers do like the flashbacks; do anyone have any requests of what kind of FB you'd like in-between the main story?? Like maybe Joel and Ada's wedding day or Ellie going on her first date with Dina… or maybe a family get together or something?? I don't know, anyway please let me know. If people feel they pull you out the main story too much I'll stop doing them. Thanks again hope you enjoyed this chapters. Have a lovely day! <3 xx

Chapter Seventeen

From the moment Joel stepped inside the building he felt uncomfortable. He’d left Duke outside grazing on the overgrown street corners that were now more grass and trees than sidewalk. He’d felt wrong walking towards the hospital, his every sense in his body telling him to turn around. Go back. But despite his every instinct he somehow managed to push forward. The hospital was deathly silent and still. At times Joel had to wonder if that was a good thing or not. The only sounds he could hear were his own. The sound of his heavy boots scuffing against the old stained floor, his own breath echoing through the wall of quiet and lifelessness. He surprised himself as he made his way through the winding corridors and wards, it almost felt like he knew exactly where he was going. Though he supposed the more he thought about it; a part of him did. The sense of familiarity was overwhelming at times, to the point it made his head hurt. 

'Where are they?'  

'They’re safe…'      

That voice…he knew that voice didn’t he? It echoed through his head as his memories charged around in his mind, swirling back and forth till it made his ears ring. The sound of gunshots and heavy breathing. Shouts of orders and anger. Were they coming from him or someone else? 

He froze when he saw the large sign on the wall pointing the way to where he was heading. Pediatrics. He pushed through the set of double doors and the stale air hit him like a tidal wave. The once brightly painted walls of multi-coloured sail boats now faded and old with age. The long dark corridor hidden from the light of the sun by the blinds and sheets covering the windows. The ward's rooms were left cluttered with old medical equipment and blankets. He followed it further down towards the office that was now left bare and picked clean of all supplies. He noticed a pile of aging paper on the desk and moved to take a closer look. It looked like copies of brain scans and test results. 

'But it grows all over the brain' he heard himself say. 'It does', the ghost replied back. That all too familiar feeling of dread churned deep in the pit of his stomach. Joel felt a jolt travel down his arm as he threw the papers down back onto the desk. He felt like he’d been stung. A gasp of breath escaped him as he winced at the sharp shooting pain that burned across the back of his skull and split into a dull headache that he was all too sick of suffering from. The older man took a stumbled step back, almost losing his footing. Joel knew in that moment exactly where he was and what had happened here. This must’ve been the place he’d saved Ellie. His jaw clenched at the realisation, maybe Ada hadn’t been lying after all. But it still didn’t ease the pain of everything else that damn woman had done to him. Shrugging it off he continued out into the corridor and moved further down towards the final door in front of him. He didn’t miss the Firefly symbol spray painted on the wall by the door. But still Joel pushed on. As he stepped into the operating theatre his blood ran cold. Hackles raised and jaw clenched once again, he felt a rush of adrenaline course through him as his body seemed to relive whatever had happened in this room. His breath trembled as he continued to look around. More boxes marked by the Fireflies symbol, filled with equipment and blankets. Nothing that seemed to point to where the Fireflies could have moved on too though. Joel shivered against the chill that ran up his back; his clothes were still a little damp from the rain the night before. It had seemed that drying them before leaving Jackson’s outpost had proved not all that beneficial. The cold in the air didn’t help either. As he made his way around the room he felt eyes on him. The shadows moving in the corners of his eyes. The figures hiding in the depths of the darkness, silently judging him. Though for what he couldn't say. He was stopped in his pacing when he noticed the smeared blood stains in the floor under his boots. They were dried and old, from a few years ago at least, if not more. The more Joel stared at it the more he wondered whose it was. Had he been the cause? Had he been in a fight? Was it Ellie’s from when he’d saved her from whatever bad thing had happened here? 

He slumped against the wall and sighed in defeat. He was so sick of questions. Of not knowing the answers to his own past. It was becoming exhausting. Leaning back with his foot against the wall, Joel pushed away from it and strode out of the theatre and back into the office. He hastily looked through the draws and cabinets again, just in case he’d missed something. His luck turned as he fumbled through one of the old bookcases and came away with a scrapped piece of paper. 

Group 2- Eastern Colorado University- arrived three days ago, research papers to follow. 

Eastern Colorado University. That’s where the Fireflies must’ve traveled from to get to St Mary’s. Perhaps there were more clues as to their whereabouts. It wasn’t that far away. Two and half days on horseback at most, he estimated. With his mind made up he quickly made his way back out onto the street to tend to Duke, the horse nickering affectionately at the sight of his owner. Joel padded him on the neck with a kind smile as he kicked at the ashes of his campfire to put out the remaining embers, then pulled softly at the gelding’s reins as he clicked his teeth for the horse to walk on. He pulled himself back into the saddle with a dull grunt then kicked Duke in a gentle paced trot.

University of Eastern Colorado…’Go Bighorns’ Joel thought to himself sarcastically. Maybe there Joel would finally find the answers he was looking for. He gave another kick to push Duke on into a canter as they took off through the old broken roads and around the rusting and rotting cars that littered the streets; then back onto the freeway. He knew he had to pick up his pace before night fell, his dark eyes scanning every road sign until he found one that pointed the way to Colorado. Joel was so focused on the road signs, he failed to notice the twitching and the groans of the figures slowly creeping towards him as they dragged out their rotting bodies from under the cars. The screeches and clicks echoing through the wind. Duke’s shout of fear shattered the silence as more infected charged for horse and rider, their deformed claws and bony broken nails reaching out for flesh to scratch and hack. Joel had no time to react as he was pulled from his saddle.