#so many lore

[000bun]

[lorelune]

i'll defend fanfic for my whole life. like the joy it brings is genuinely transformative and indulgent in a way unique to the genre. it isn't meant for a market, it isn't meant to be sold or marketed. it is born out of such care and passion for a media that one must write and must share it, so other folks can enjoy it to. for no other reason than love and joy. do you know how special that is? especially in our current social and political climate.

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in it, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[grymm-gardens]

the language nerd in me is fucking screaming and crying about the fact that Cassandra Pentaghast has what i believe may be the most accurate impression of the extinct gothic germanic accent we have, and the fact that they didn't even try to give anyone else from Nevarra the same accent is fucking criminal

yes i know it is an entirely made up accent that miranda developed herself, she unintentionally hit the nail on the fucking head with the accent of a dead language that would even be lore accurate with the placement of Nevarra relative to orlais and the other neighboring countries

also im sorry using Gothic as the language inspiration for nevarran??? is that not like too fucking perfect??

like yeh i get it accent training people for a fake accent is ridiculously hard

i do not care

give me gothic nevarrans in the truest sense of the word

i might post the notes find the notes here i have on the actual linguistic comparisons if anyone cares because i studied her pronunciation to compare to historical texts when i made the connection

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

You keep telling yourself that Namari.

[stxss-art]

More Zelda sketches for my au to heal my inner horror fantasy junkie 🫶

[eldritch-ace]

The Leading Man

I love how after watching Nightmare Time, TGWDLM implies that all the powerhouses of Hatchetfield were infected before the CCRP crew (also that Pokey plays favorites)

[astronnova]

danny phantom cast explorations and thoughts :v

[atissi]

hadn't seen anyone post the full comic about laios + falin's family on tumblr yet so. here you go source is from the reddit

[myloveonherknees]

@/mothercain. twitter, 14 mar 2022.

[quibbs126]

No but for real, there’s so much we don’t know about the Sunlight Sisters, I think it could carry a whole prequel movie on its own

Like one of the biggest things, how did Rumi’s mother, a demon hunter, fall in love with a demon? And have a relationship long enough to have a kid? Was it a trick or fling, or was Rumi’s father genuinely a decent person and they had a loving relationship? And how much did the other two know about the relationship, did they know she was dating a demon or that she was going to have a half demon child? When did Celine find out the truth about Rumi, did she always know or did she only find out after her mother died?

And how did Rumi’s mother die? Was she killed by demons or was it just natural causes? I’m inclined to believe the latter, considering that the prospect of her being murdered never seems to come up in the film, which I think absolutely would have if she were. Could she have died in childbirth, Celine only finding out about Rumi’s half demon heritage once she’s born?

And where’s Rumi’s father? We know demons are immortal, and it doesn’t seem like the hunters kill the demons when they attack, just send them back to the Underworld (outside of maybe the final battle that is). So like, is he alive or did he somehow permanently die? And if he’s alive, where is he by the time of the movie? Is he just a deadbeat or is it something else?

And outside of the Rumi situation, who is the third member of the Sunlight Sisters? We never hear anything about her, and she’s nowhere to be seen in the movie outside of the brief looks at the old group. Who is she and where is she at the time of the movie? How much does she know about the Rumi situation? Is she dead? Was there some sort of accident that killed Rumi’s mother and the third girl, making Celine the only one left? Or did she decide to just leave and not involve herself with any of the group or the hunters anymore?

There’s probably even more, but those are just the main questions on my mind right now. Like I said, you could have an entire movie dedicated to them and answering these questions, with the origins of Rumi and how she came to be in Celine’s care probably being the central plot of the story. Or heck, maybe you could have it as a side plot happening, given Celine seems to be the leader of this group instead, only for it to become more important near the end. I don’t know, but there’s so much potential, and I think I want this as a continuation of the movie more than anything right now

[johnnyshrine]

★ 093 // “POV: You Died :("

[voldsoy-is-as-it-was]

I love existing on clique tumblr cause there’s no beef, just ~30 of us sitting in a circle. One of us says, “Clancy and Torch kiss on the mouth.” We all say amen. We continue with our days.

[inkedberries]

expanding on the thought of kudou getting the call sign 'hero' and afo getting irked by it for some reason

[sherlockggrian]

my piece for @inthelittlezine! Martyn's Last Life pov 🔛🔝

[warmrevolver]

Paul Mccartney in an interview with Charlie Rose talking about meeting John Lennon for the first time, October, 1991

PAUL: Who is this person? But then I met him a little later that day and uh, I was surprised at how drunk and horrible he was. Cause I was younger then, he was just sixteen-

CHARLIE: He was a bad influence on you, was he?

PAUL: -Well he was getting a six pack down him y’know, he was sat there and he was getting going. I was later to learn those tricks but I was a little bit innocent at the time. Yeah, I remember this guy sort of smelly breath over my shoulder, sort of thinking, “Oh dear me, hoodlum, y’know hello.”

There’s soooo many things I love about this particular telling of the story of John and Paul first meeting:

- His description seeming like such a caricature of a Liverpudlian teenage boy but knowing John was JUST LIKE THAT

- ‘I was a little bit innocent at the time.’ as if John corrupted him with his ‘hoodlum’ shenanigans

- It’s so clear that John was this image of older boy coolness to Paul when they were younger; the way he talks about his initial aversion to John’s antics while smiling, knowing that John’s influence would shape the rest of his life.

The comparison of younger Paul to a teenage girl with a crush on an older boy is so true- I mean, just look at him giggling about drunk John peering over his shoulder, defiling his ‘innocence’