#technically I can write one of them but like

[magpies-gold]

I have both eyes and they're both technically functional but I still relate to a lot of this because I also have monocular vision. In my case, the problem is with my brain, actually. It can only process images from one eye at a time because of a defect when I was born that required surgical intervention. Even after the fix, my brain just never learned that I still had two eyes, so it has no capacity to combine the image data like normal people do. As a result, I have no depth perception and I have a dominant eye that I use 90% of the time.

I also have visual snow that's especially noticeable when I close my eyes and at night in the dark, but as there isn't a lot of research on visual snow, I'm not sure if that's related or coincidental. In case people want to know a bit more about life as a person with monocular vision in a two-eyeballs kind of situation: I have a weird trick that I can do that seems to astound folks with binocular vision: I can consciously switch eyes. It's like flexing a muscle and I can decide to use the left one or the right in the same way that I can choose to wave my left or right hand. Trying to use both at the same time just doesn't work, though. If I really try, there's just this pressure feeling in my head, like I'm trying to imagine a colour that doesn't exist, but I can't make the two work together at all. This is likely just a me thing but my non-dominant eye is much worse than my dominant eye, and its been getting worse over the course of my life. It's still useful, but extremely near-sighted, so much so that it alone is legally blind and makes my optometrist and all their staff wince. But I can read very, very tiny close-up writing with it, so it comes in handy when I'm doing things like reading. My dominant eye is a little near sighted but not much. It's pretty stable. Also probably just a me thing: I have one lazy eye, but it relates to the monocular vision. It's my dominant one. If I use the non-dominant eye, you can actually tell when I've switched to it because my dominant eye "switches off" and rolls a little bit up and out. It was worse when I was a kid (my mom saying "Meghan, are you looking at me?" was a common thing) but it still happens nowadays. My non-dominant eye isn't lazy, so when I'm looking around normally with my dominant eye you can't tell that there's anything different about me than your average Joe. It's a mostly invisible disability for me (and I still feel strange calling it a disability because it's just how I've always seen, and yet here I am making a list of complexities regarding my vision, so....) A final possibly-just-me thing is that I hold my pencil like a space alien and always have. The reasoning I've given since I was a kid was because of which eye I use, I wouldn't be able to see what the end of my pencil was doing if I were holding it "correctly", so I draw and write like this:

(Video here, if you want to see the rest of that: https://www.tumblr.com/magpies-gold/699322866172346368?source=share) Can confirm from the above that head-tilt is a thing when one has monocular vision, even with two eyes. Because of the head tilt, I also get people startling me on my non-dominant side a lot, possibly because with my "blind" side tilted back and away from what I'm looking at, they think I'll see them sooner since that eye is closer to looking behind me. Therefore they don't think they're sneaking up on me. That is, right up until they appear, as if by magic, in my field of vision and I go AAAA!

Depth perception problems that I personally encounter: I don't drive so I don't have a lot to add there except that trying to learn scared me too much to proceed. I was not comfortable with how much slower my reaction time was on my left side or how I couldn't accurately judge where exactly objects in front of me were, so I gave it up in my teenage years in favour of a good pair of sneakers and a transit pass. But I will loudly say that going down stairs sucks. I am very opinionated on how much I love and appreciate when stairs have the bright yellow stripe at the edge, or some other marker to aim for. If stairs are all one uniform colour I am hesitant as hell putting my feet down because I can't tell how far a drop it is. I'm slow on descents on unfamiliar stairs and I desperately need the railing to hold on to. Going up stairs isn't bad because I have other visual cues to help me, and I'm much faster there. I also don't do well on really uneven terrain, like the rocky shores we have on beaches here. Watching my fiancé go hopping and skipping over rocks like a mountain goat gives me light wistful despair because I know if I tried that I would miscalculate almost immediately and break all my bones. My tactic is to get low and go slow if I have to cross anything where distances get tricky to guesstimate. I become a crab. I also have friends who know to slow down and will also let me hold their hand (bless). I do have peripheral vision ghosts on the non-dominant side even with two eyes. The most common thing I see is ghost cats. I'll see my cat jump up on a counter in my peripheral vision only to turn and find nothing there. Sometimes my brain will also suggest there might be a person walking in my peripheral vision. It's just overcompensating for what it has to fill in the blanks on. I can't catch things that are thrown at me except by sheer luck. Sports like baseball and badminton were brutal in high school and I got into many a verbal confrontation with my teacher while trying to explain that I had a very good reason to be afraid of the projectile coming for my face. I told him more than once to go close one eye and try it for himself and see what it's like. No peeking! I can't peek. Similarly, I can't fly a drone. I learned that very quickly when I accidentally flew Tim's full tilt into a wall. Oops. >> Drone was okay. I, on the other hand, was absolutely boggled by how I just could not tell where it was in space until boom, I'd crashed it. And that's because another thing is that I was personally born the way that I am, so I'm fully acclimated to it. I know nothing else, and I don't notice all the micro calculations that I do to translate my 2D view into 3D space so that I can move around in it. At least, I don't until I have a situation where the object I'm working with suddenly has no context, like a drone in mid-air, and then I suddenly notice my limitations. 3D movies largely don't work for me. They're basically just regular 2D movies involving stupid glasses. -shrug- Finally, video games with a lot of icons around the edges of the screen are a nightmare for me because I can't see all of my monitor at once. Again: slow as balls reaction time because I have to re-calibrate and turn my head a lot. The concept of a wide-screen monitors makes me go "Jesus, why?"

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I request a headcanon of whb king (plus any other characters you want) reacting to gn mc avoiding them for as long as she can because mc got dared to by some random demon

WHB kings' reaction to MC avoiding them because of a dare

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Hi! This was so fun to write since each king had a completelly different reaction ^^ Sorry for the long wait though t-t

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Oh, Satan doesn't like this at all

The moment he notices your suspiciously long absence, he's on the prowl

Where are you and why tf are you avoiding him?

He'll even send out Amy and his group to look for you and bring you to him

Hopefully he'll during his search find out about the dare

At least hopefully for you

Poor demon who dared you will find himself homeless after Satan in his demon form destroys his place

Once that's dealt with, the next time you go outisde, you come face to face with Satan, leaning back against his bike

"Talked to that mf. The dare's called off :)"

    ༺☆༻

Mammon notices that you haven't been around him much, but he just chalks it up to you being busy

He's okay with it, knowing that eventually you'll come back to him anyway

Besides, if you needed something, you'd surely call him

After finding out that it's a dare, he's also curious how long you'll be able to keep away from him

If he ever gets worried about you, he'll just send one of his nobles to check up on you

Once you're back to him, he's taking you out for a dinner to congratulate you on how long you lasted

    ༺☆༻

Leviathan knew from the beginning thanks to Foras

You don't even get to leave the Hades castle so it's easier for you to avoid him when you get a message from the devil who dared you that the dare is off

It doesn't take a genius to realise that the poor demon had been visited by His Majesty himself and forced to end your dare early

Most likely, if you video-called with him, he'll be gasping for air, hung by a noose

The next time you see Leviathan, he acts like nothing happened, but you can feel his piercing stare when you're not looking at him

He's most likely not sure how to punish you yet...

But once he does...

Oh boy, now comes the moment to avoid him for the sole sake of your survival

    ༺☆༻

Funny :)

You think you can avoid Beel? :)

I mean, technically you could do that by hanging around in the Abyssos castle, but even then you can't exactly avoid Beel

If Beel wants to see you, he'll come and see you

Doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing

Even if it means that he'll have to sneak through his own castle to escape Bael's wrath

And even more so, if he finds out about the dare...

Oops, he just reminded he meant to take you to this place and booked it in advance and can't cancel it

Sorry, guess you'll have to spend the whole month with him :)

I guess the rule with Beel is that the more you want him, the less he'll be around

(True story with my pulls for his cards tbh T-T)

    ༺☆༻

Belphie would probably realise that it's been a while since you were there when he woke up, but eh...

Maybe you're just busy doing your work

No sweat

That is until Beleth accidentally slips up about the dare

Oh?

Now that is something different

Prepare to start dreaming about him every night

That'll eventually make you come back...

And if not, don't worry...

Belphie's ability can bring you back anytime, so enjoy your time away from him before he decides this little game is over

    ༺☆༻

Keeping away from Asmo is honestly your day-to-day task, so I don't think there's much difference

That is until you realize that it's time for another annual king meeting

The real challenge becomes coming up with a good reason to excuse yourself from it

And all the nobles are helping you at this point

Sure, you could just not go, but Asmo might then leave the meeting to come and see you since he was so excited to meet you after so long

In the end Leviathan coems to save the day and hides you inside his coffin for as long as the need be

Phew

You're safe for another year

    ༺☆༻

To Lucifer, not seeing you for a long time is a good thing

It just means you're healthy and safe

But he does eventually start to miss you

And then Gamigin talks a bit too much and mentions that you've been avoiding Paradise Lost because of a dare

So whenever you need medical assistance one of the nobles has to do a house call

...

A house call?

That sounds unsanitary

Who even knows what germs and bacteria you might catch

Lucifer better make his way over to you for a surprise visit to make sure you're doing well

And no apples can save you from this doctor

[nondelphic]

Hello, hope you're doing well and that I'm not bothering you. I know this blog is for relatable writing posts, and I very much do find them relatable (kudos to you), but I was wondering if I could ask for some advice. Why you? IDK, you seem like a nice person, and you do writing stuff, so I figured why not ask? You don't have to respond, but here goes:

Just, how do you get started? I have so many scenes (literally entire dang novels and story arcs) in my head that are quite vivid, I can hear the dialogue, vividly see the scene and map out everything in my head, but the second I try to put it on paper (or google doc), my brain just freezes up and shuts down, partly out of fear of not being able to do good or cringing hard at it. I know people say to just do it and get it out since a bad draft is better than nothing, but, how do you convince your brain to sit down and actually write out the scenes?

I probably kind of just answered my own question, but it would be nice to get some feedback from an internet stranger (technically speaking) who knows this sort of thing. Anyways, I hope you're doing well and that you have a good day/night :)

Do feel free to ignore this though, I don't want to be a bother.

nondelphic writing tips: overcoming the "brain freeze" when starting to write

first off, thank you for reaching out!! i feel you on the vivid mental movies that suddenly go static the second you try to write them down—this is such a common struggle, and you’re definitely not alone (ノ_<、) so here’s the thing: your brain knows what it wants to create, but perfectionism is sneaking in and hitting the brakes. it wants it to be just right before it’s even out of your head, which is a recipe for freeze mode. here are a few tricks to warm up (i hope something helps!!):

✧ start tiny

instead of aiming to write a full scene, jot down one line of dialogue or one tiny detail you see in your mind. sometimes just easing in with a line or two makes the brain relax, like “oh, we’re just dipping our toes in, not jumping into the deep end.”

✧ embrace cringe

if it helps, tell yourself that this draft will be messy, and that’s okay. i call it the “potato draft” stage—ugly but foundational. no one needs to see this stage, so just spill whatever comes. you’re capturing the vibe of your story idea, not the final masterpiece.

✧ trick the brain with “notes”

try writing scenes as if you’re just jotting “notes” or a “sketch” for later. it’s weirdly freeing and convinces your mind that it’s not permanent, making it easier to just get words out.

writing is about building up that “just write” muscle, so even if it feels clunky at first, you’re moving forward, and that’s progress! i hope this helps a bit, and sending good vibes and hugs your way (っ˘ω˘ς )

[bomberqueen17]

the gay dolphins are too powerful

yesterday i was facing the facts that i do need to actually work out the technical mcguffins in this novel. like, i have some vague notion that there's a problem with the radio network because of solar flares and our heroes are going to... somehow... fix it. idk.

plot and worldbuilding wittering behind the cut

this was the main plot in the solarpunk mammoths novel too, and i had a vague notion that a problem on such a global scale as that would need to like. it would need to be solved by more than one person. and so my nebulous notion is that possibly several sets of characters could work on it in these loosely-connected novels where really i'm just exploring different ecosystems.

idk i just-- y'all know about the Turkey City Lexicon right? I got it as a hand-out in college creative writing class and of course it reshaped my brain, but. one of the Tropes To Beware they've got is the Cozy Catastrophe, which is startlingly prevalent and once you see it you can't unsee-- "the world is ending! all of humanity will die! unless... Jeff and Suzy, you're our only hope!" and our two everyman protagonists somehow are the only resources the entire world can muster and honestly the entire world seems to consist of one American city block with about three hundred people in it at most. Hm.

so i was like yah this catastrophe is way too cozy.

meanwhile i forget how it came up but @sonnetsandsinging, helpfully spitballing, said something about space whales and i was like

OMG in a world with genetically-engineered mammoths with radio collars that translate their brain waves to allow them to speak in human language it is ABSURD that they are the only species of animal that has been given this treatment

so like. what other animals do we try to talk to all the time besides elephants?

DOLPHINS

so now this world has genetically-engineered dolphins with brainwaves-to-speech dorsal fin attachments. like duh of course it does. i can't believe I hadn't thought of that.

there should be other animals too but i can't decide which ones, currently taking submissions. What Else Should Slightly-Disconcertingly Speak.

(My criteria: should be an animal intelligent enough to have successful communication with humans already, something relatively long-lived, something that couldn't use sign language or other methods already. My concept, which is not scientific really, is that it's been well-studied that while many animals have complex communication systems, humans are the only ones whose brains are structured specifically for language, so the Magic Fictional Science here is that they've had that ability genetically-engineered in, but of course the physical production of human-intelligible language is beyond the physical structure of most animals, hence the brainwave-interface collars. which btw could also be used on profoundly disabled humans, and that might be a plot point at some point; i do have some disabled characters in this story. I know I researched those like, communication board things that nonverbal humans can use and I settled on Magical Radio-Networked Interfaces that speak out loud instead for the simple expedient of streamlining things because like how is a mammoth going to carry a communication board around that it can like get out and point at. how is a dolphin going to carry anything. so, this is just where I ended up.)

(I was thinking parrots but then parrots wouldn't need the collar because they can actually make human-speech noises on their own. so that's a fun variation. maybe in this world african grey parrots actually just talk.)

Anyway back when I first started the solarpunk mammoths novel I researched Asian elephants a lot and studied their social structures and read up on their physical abilities etc., so in between trying to find out how radio waves and semiconductors work (i get the radio waves thing & think i have my mcguffin sorted out but semiconductors made my eyes glaze over and then begin weeping so i gave up) (also supercapacitors i don't understand u sorry bye) (do i know any electronics engineers who want to explain this in normal languages? shit i do know a chemical engineer maybe she knows. heck) ... ok i wandered away from this post to text her and then forgot i was making it. i did not get a lot of sleep last night the amphetamines are not being kind this go-round but i must continue the experiment. uhhhhh where was i

GAY DOLPHINS

too powerful

Yeah so I started researching dolphins, because if I'm going to have named-and-speaking dolphin characters, I need to know a little bit about how they work.

Now I have a slight head-start on this, just as I did on mammoths. Mammoths, I've been obsessed with since I was a toddler. But dolphins. For a while I used to go to SCA camping events and there was this guy who used to be a Navy diver and then worked for Sea World and he. well he was really good at telling stories, was his deal. And he had Seen Some Shit, and some of that shit was about interacting with dolphins. And the thing about dolphins is that. Well, they're violent little chaos gremlins, and just in the course of going about their normal lives, one of the things they do to interact with the world is, well. they have sex with things.

when they do this to people it is generally not a positive experience for the person. but. so i knew that going in. and most of the information on the internet about dolphins is really like. earnest and loving and whatever, which is great. but the thing is that dolphins are chaos gremlins who will fuck anything they can't eat, eat anything they can't fuck, or sometimes do both to the same unfortunate object if it proves to be possible.

what i'm saying is, these are going to be really entertaining characters to work with. because elephants, conversely, do not have recreational sex. they do a lot of things, but they just don't really do that. so dolphins are like. inverse-elephants, culturally.

Elephants also tend to have a strong matriarch, strong bonds between females, and then the males tend to be largely solitary, but will congregate more loosely, often around an older male who will teach them manners. (A well-mannered bull is MUCH more likely to be allowed to mate with desirable females, who have little patience with male foibles.)

Dolphins have looser gender roles; on the whole, the females tend to loosely congregate, and pregnant females usually go back to their mother's pod to birth and raise young, not dissimilar to elephants, but the males--

male dolphins very, very frequently will pair-bond. Two males of similar age-- adult males have very little to do with juveniles of either sex, generally-- will pair-bond and will be inseparable for the rest of their lives. If one of them dies, the other will mourn-- mourning behavior is well-documented in dolphins-- and then will seek to pair off with another adult male, because male dolphins prefer to work in pairs, for survival and companionship. (Dolphin "pods" are also more loosely-organized than elephant herds; dolphins will have a couple of core companions, but then will freely associate and disassociate with other individuals and groups over short periods of time without much fuss, depending on the situation.)

The pair-bonded males are the ones who in the wild do the behavior you see in shows, where they do like synchronized jumps and very-close fast-precise swimming and such, which in the wild are apparently courtship or threat displays-- i.e. "look how tight we are, you can't fight us" or, alternately, "isn't that hot" because

yes that's often how they court females. The pair will corral a desirable female and herd her away from other dolphins so they can both mate with her, and keep her from mating with anybody else.

(other females have been observed collaborating to free a corralled female who did not want this to happen, so it's not quite as rapey as it sounds. though, i mean. dolphins. what can you do.)

anyway dolphin threesomes are canon. but that derailed the rest of my night and i was unable to concentrate on anything else because the gay-- I should say really bisexual dolphins are too powerful.

so anyway i wrote a test scene with a dolphin character, and i had my main character take his wife and baby down to the jetty to introduce them to his dolphin pals, and a bonded male pair he'd known for years showed up and immediately tried to steal the wife, and then expressed shock that he didn't have his male best friend with him, because in their experience breeding was THEE most important time to have your buddy with you. He explains that his buddy is off on a long-term work assignment, and they're like hmph next time you breed you MUST include him, it is so much easier trust us. and the wife is like hmmmmm!

henceforth i will refer to m/m/f threesomes as "dolphin style" you're welcome

[when-life-gives-you-lemons-if]

I hope you don't take this the wrong way, because I really do like the work! But I saw some asks relating to letting you set deeper boundaries with Brenda in your re-writes and I was wondering/hoping if you could do the same with Barlow? As a female, it was deeply unsettling the idea that someone who I had fallen out with could just show up at my house in the middle of the night, barge in and talk to me about a job I technically already had - then do the same thing a few nights later - and then ambush me at my house *again* with his mother. Even when I blocked the romance, or told Barlow to go away - they just get pushy and ignore you. A house should be a safe space - and with the vandalizing, it's already not. And then throw a child you're meant to be protecting into the mix - even when I switch the gender of Barlow to a woman, it's an uneasy feeling. I'd love an option to tell them to stop or call ahead or refuse to let them in and they just stay on the step. It's okay if you don't want to or that kind of boundary pushing is just very in character for them - I can speed read those scenes, honestly - just thought I'd see. But your work is lovely, (loved the midnight saga) and I'm looking forward to the finished product!

Hello, thank you for your ask.

The issue is Barlow, contrary to Brenda is a major character in the story. MC's friendship with Barlow is woven into all aspects of the game, whether you romance them or not. They grew up together, and Barlow's parents even are people MC used to count on.

The narrative is written as if MC knows those people and they are not complete strangers to MC.

The rewrite includes scenes with MC and Barlow when they were kids, or mentions scenes where Barlow's parent took care of MC. So eventually MC is going to need to interact with those people.

The choices to keep Barlow outside are there, and I think I even added one to keep Cherry outside too. Those choices are in the current public demo.

If reading about this character is triggering, please, it's best to protect your peace and avoid distress.

[mad-hunts]

in response to the other's answer in regards to what jervis would prefer on his toast, jack simply nodded. he'd found himself at a loss for what else to say even though that was actually quite rare for him. maybe it was the idea that barton could be outside at that very moment, listening in, that made jack suddenly feel like a fog had rolled into his mind; making it so that he could protect himself without even knowing for sure that there was a threat in the first place.

barton didn't like talking about julien - he'd pretty much stowed away every single picture but one the family had with him in it, in fact. for it still hurt him too much to look at them. therefore, especially considering his father's history of not being able to regulate his moods well, jack might have to perform 'damage control' if that were the case. but crossing the bridge if he were to get there seemed to apply quite well here. so, the farceur chose to move on and it turned out to be wisely, too.

jervis did look very tense lying there with jack visibly appearing to want to curl up into himself and never come out. after going to the nearby trunk in the room, he opened it. this was done as a means to distract the both of them from succumbing to the weight of their own differing circumstances. though there was certainly a good cover reason for jack to, ❝ oh, wow. ahh... i almost forgot that its supposed to get down into the forties tonight so you might need this. its going to be cold, after all, ❞ it was also hitting sundown at that moment as well.

jack could tell by just looking through the crack in the curtains of the one window in the room. while gnawing on his bottom lip, he pulled out the plush blanket inside of the chest only to shake it out a bit. now, as jack tossed the blanket up just enough to cover jervis's body without touching him? something matilda told him a few years ago echoed in his mind during a conversation they had late at night: 'you know, i know you'd like nothing more than to get rid of all your feelings sometimes - but i hope you never change.'

jack just remembered looking up at the tent he was in that day of camping afterward, as he decided he should probably get to sleep. but it felt validating in a way he couldn't explain as well even now. because jack's first instinct upon seeing jervis was that he was struggling, so he should help him; though one could definitely say that sense of responsibility had made him suffer in the past. thank goodness sucking in a deep breath through his nostrils and exhaling could allow jack to quiet his mind then.

he tilted his head at the other's words and squinting his eyes, deep in thought. of course if jervis didn't believe in one, that was fine, but it appeared like he might. these sorts of concepts could trigger whole debates for a reason, however, as spirituality was something that jack affiliated himself with. but religion? he wasn't so sure, so he more than understood when jervis settled for saying his loved ones being at peace was simply something he wanted to believe in. with jack's sudden exit came the arrival of a much less benevolent figure, to say the least, and barton couldn't say he blamed jervis for seemingly somewhat disappointed that his son left.

jack was easy to get along with, and with just a little bit of time spent with him, he might just win someone over with his compassionate nature. barton knew this well along with the reality he had to learn other people's behaviors throughout the years to appear at least 'semi-normal.' how that was going for the doctor would often depend on who you asked, though. barton could only snort derisively at that, ❝ funny. just remember, you'd be in arkham right now if it weren't for me and my daughter. ❞ he pointed a sharpened nail in the direction of jervis as he proceeded into the room.

the same crack in the curtains jack had once looked through was soon closed with a quick 'swishing' motion. barton was personally raised with a very limited exposure to faith, as neither wesley nor winslow were particularly religious father figures. but barton could admire those who participate in it regardless of their level of involvement in it. though it could be used as a force of evil as much as it could be used for good, a lot of humanity existed in shades of gray.

so even if they were under the threat of suffering through something like eternal damnation after death... in barton's mind, it was only a matter of time before someone used a widespread thing like faith to their own advantage. and maybe this was bad of him but thinking about wesley being in such a place somewhat brought him a sense of twisted satisfaction; because at least barton would be getting a form of justice for every fearful moment wesley put him through that way. barton only blinked as his eyes trailed from jervis's face to the teacup that jack had presumably brought him.

shockingly enough, all he felt when he discovered that marty's father was a powerful figure was an incredible amount of disbelief for a moment before it fizzled away. barton was used to things getting worse even if he couldn't have seen this coming. plus, he'd gotten frighteningly good at treating human lives like this police captain's more as obstacles than actual beings. it remained to be seen which one jervis was to barton. he squinted his eyes before standing up and ultimately finding out that, yeah, he had done that too quickly.

barton felt like he was green around the gills all over again, ❝ that is one way to put it, jervis. but don't worry. you just reminded me that, although we're going to have to get creative, there are ways of getting away with it. i'd say pinning his murder on someone else might be the best. ❞ he uttered after swallowing thickly, making a 'turn around' gesture with his finger towards the other. barton talking about murder as if it was light dinner conversation said everything that needed to be said about how he felt about their current predicament.

maybe it was because he was still feeling a lot of malaise, but no part of it bothered him in particular. the doctor was more worried about jervis becoming queasy because he accidentally saw the scars where he'd stitched on yves's arm to his own body, ❝ uhh, just in case you didn't get that, turn around. i'm going to change my shirt. ❞ once that was done, barton slipped his current bloodied one over his head only to replace it with the other. he slumped down in the chair to the table opposite of jervis and looked over the tarot cards laid out before him.

barton, too, knew how to interpret them. ❝ what were you two planning on doing with these? a 'past, present, and future' reading? because i can do it while my son's gone for you. ❞

Jervis gave the barest of shrugs as he glanced at Jack through his bangs, the quiet rhythm of their breathing, the slow drip of the IV, and the faint shifting of the cards against the tabletop the only sounds piercing the air. "Either one sounds perfectly agreeable. I defer to your good judgment." A ghost of a smile, pale and wan, tugged at his mouth for an infinitesimal moment.

Call it the lingering pangs of paternal instinct or projection, whatever you felt was most appropriate, but some flicker of warmth—worry mingling with concern—stirred within Jervis' breast; softening the veneer of exhaustion and discomfort that clothed him like a second skin. Like an invisible cancer that had latched onto him, draining his vitality—a slow-acting poison decades in the making; only this time, the source was external, a reflection of Jack's own unease radiating across the space between them.

Jervis drew in a shallow breath, feeling the tightness in his chest not as his own, but as if their nerves had blurred and grown entangled. He tried to focus, willing his own breath to steady, his hands to unclench. A low chuckle escaped Jervis' chapped lips at Jack's query. The medications in his IV coursed through him, cold and prickling, sending a frisson over his skin as goosebumps rose in response. And yet, somehow, it eased the deep ache within him, dulling the edges of both pain and nausea. He could feel the weight of his discomfort receding, just slightly, as though the medicine were smoothing his raw nerves; coaxing him toward a delicate, unfamiliar calm.

Not quite like ketamine.... not like the cozy, blithesome feeling that coursed through his veins with each dose. Even when most of his prior consumption of the drug hadn't been consensual—thick enough to cut his teeth on, it ensured small pockets of blissful ignorance hardening into a dissociative shell, like callus. (God bless those poor, ministering angels at Arkham... only a trace of spite and animosity there, rage bleeding with sorrow at how his autonomy and consent was completely ignored, snatched... one wrong move, and he was left cowering in a crumpled heap, or otherwise dead to the world... but now? Would the scales be tipped, if they managed to drag him back there? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that answer.) If Odysseus and his crew had been desperate to escape the Lotus Eaters only to stumble unwittingly into the clutches of Polyphemus, Jervis felt quite the opposite.

For better or worse, the ketamine had left him numb to everything.

The pain, the grief, the anguish that tore gouges in his heart and mind; lacerated his psyche to shreds, in conjunction with the ECT. Somehow, he compartmentalized it... gravitated to the cannabis as an alternative upon his discharge, once he'd regained his center of gravity and emerged from his self-immurement; the fractures left by his losses and lessons grinding him to the bone. Everything it cost him and what he'd earned in exchange. Simon. Arabella. His time in Ireland. Sylvie. The flood. Alice.

The lengths he had gone...

And so Jervis chuckled; the sound dry and hollow, barely touching his eyes. He met Jack’s gaze, his expression tightening as he mulled over the question, tasting the irony in it.

“An afterlife…” he murmured, his eyes drifting. Thoughts and memories broke the surface like apples bobbing in a bucket: Simon and Stephen putting aside their differences over the blessing at Passover; his and Arabella's quiet, but spirited discussions of Heaven and the saints and catechism, the differences between the Old and New Testaments as they strolled along the shoreline. Stories of the witch trials in Ireland, of John Calvin and his legacy in Scotland.

All the old beliefs he’d grown up with circled back and hit like a tidal wave, tied as much to memories of family as to the concept of religious faith itself, all its beauty and diverse forms, yet it left him feeling frigid now. For a little over three decades, he'd told himself that he could appreciate the mythology of it all, even found it strangely comforting at times, but belief? That had always been a different thing entirely.

Jervis' mind tugged him back to reality. He could sense Jack’s curiosity pressing at the edge of his own awareness, a secondary presence so strong it was almost rendered a physical form. "That's.... a complicated notion, from where I'm standing.” He let out a slow, careful breath; curled his fingers back around his necklace as he dissected the question. “But... yes. I'd like to think our loved ones are at peace."

He could map it all in a dozen lines, right down to his own lived experiences, the rules he tried so hard to follow, the ideals that always seemed to warp and fray. There was karma, consequence, perhaps even the lingering shadows of what people might call a curse. But the idea of any higher being calling the shots? It gnawed at him like an old wound. And so Jervis looked back at Jack, almost apologetic, the faint sting of an old ache flickering beneath his words.

He was spared from elaborating with Barton's sudden appearance; lurking on the threshold like a wraith. Poor Jack's confidence and ease withered like a hapless petunia caught in the dead of winter. A few quiet words of dismissal and a pat to the shoulder were all that heralded the reluctant, leery departure of his one potential ally in the wolf's den.

'As phantoms frighten beasts when shadows fall.' Jervis sighed, slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, looked Barton in the eye; as well as he could, anyway, with the lingering gray spots and his missing glasses still impeding his line of sight. “Maybe we each make our own heaven—or our own hell.”

Perhaps that was petty or harsh of him to say out loud... though that was the truth of the matter. Jervis didn’t need religious belief to drive him, after all; he needed only his own peculiar code, that precarious balance between curiosity and cynicism, and the sense of duty he still felt for a daughter who had deserved something far more stable, more secure; safer than the patchwork life he had known. Whatever his flaws, his faults, some small part of him still respected the right to believe—what faith meant to others; its power to inspire, to build, to destroy. The cause and effect of human history, the double-edged promises of faith. And maybe that was the root of it: faith could be a tool, a guide, a balm.

But then the stark, often bitter truths he’d learned through survival would come rushing back. Besides, he reckoned, Barton likely wouldn't give a damn about any of his prior train of thought. In any case, on the topic of hell, Jervis never pictured the vast, cavernous expanse of fire and brimstone that Jonathan Edwards had once preached about in the summer of 1741. No. Hell always conjured up fevered images of a frozen lake in the deepest, darkest part of the center of the earth, untouched by light and warmth and life—the last of Dante Alighieri's nine circles.

'I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.'

He was torn from the thick mire of his thoughts, yanked back outside his mind as if caught in a sudden hurricane at Barton’s next revelation. Jervis shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then reached for the cup of tea Jack had brought him. The liquid within was a warm, golden amber—like sea glass he’d once collected as a child in Bermuda, or the bits Alice would gather along Gotham’s coastline on their rare visits when she was little.

How simple those days were...

"Well." Jervis' voice was completely flat, his brow creasing with incredulity and disgust. Barton’s outline weaved and blurred before his eyes like a will-o’-the-wisp. No more, no more… no room, no room. He felt completely hollow. "Trading one problem for another, are we?" His scarred knuckles bulged as his fingers curled around the delicate porcelain; his grip hard enough to produce a faint, foreboding crack.

He would weep, if he had anymore tears left to shed over their predicament. For Marty and his partner, for the trouble Jack and Matilda had been brought into by association… but none for himself or Barton. He wasn’t certain he was worthy of it; and Barton had no qualms over their actions, he’d freely admitted it at that bistro earlier. Jervis’ hands tingled, as if they were still covered by the bloodied gloves he wore when he dispatched the driver in order to retrieve Alice’s rabbit, wielding his hatpins on pure impulse; there was no premeditation involved, but there was no discounting how surgical his actions had been in their efficacy with each targeted nerve cluster and artery. He wasn’t indulging in self-pity, oh no… nothing so shallow or solipsistic. Not like that at all. Just a pure ant mill of growing dread and horror and regret, one that couldn’t be encompassed by words alone.

His teeth sought the gouges in the corner of his mouth from where he’d previously bit himself in the throes of his nightmares, worrying at the cuts till they began to sting anew.

‘Despair has its own calms.’

[boom-bada-boom]

i need. to write out my thoughts. about the ghost zone. (and the infinite realms)

ok ok so. infinite realms. reasonably, that would mean they are infinite. the realm where the dead goes. every universe is connected to it. every place where the dead gather is inside of it.

what this means.

think of the realms like an ocean. and there are islands, that are above the water. these islands are universes, and they are not connected by anything above the water. but they are connected in the water; you cant walk to another island but you could swim there. thats what the realms are, for every universe. it is the ocean they float in.

now think of the environments within the ocean. those are the different parts of the realms. everything is there. every afterlife exists as an environment within this ocean that is the realms. the greek underworld, the christian heaven/hell, etc etc. some of these afterlives are anchored to specific universes, and others are general afterlives that take deaths from several universes. the ghost zone is actually one of those environments, technically. its a large part of the realms, but not the entire thing.

an important thing to note is that the ghost zone is special compared to any other environment within the realms. those other afterlives are self-contained, without crossover. they are part of the realms but their dead cant leave to the wider realms. the denizens of the ghost zone, however, can travel wherever they want in the infinite realms, including into other ecosystems and even to those universes above the water if they have the power for it. because they are more ectoplasm than other realms beings, and thus made up of more of the substance of the realms. that gives them special privileges, and also means the ghosts of the ghost zone are not like any other ghost. theyre sort of like the ghosts of ghosts; more powerful, more influential, more varied.

another important detail is that the infinite realms are alive, in a way. there is a consciousness there, that picks and chooses and plays favorites. for this reason, pariah dark was never the king of the realms, but instead king of the ghost zone. still a powerful being, but not as powerful as he could have been. the realms must accept you as king for your title to be king of the infinite realms, and pariah dark did not have that favor. it must share itself with you, allow you to perceive it in its infinity, put a piece of itself inside of you. (another note, it is only a denizen of the ghost zone that could become king of the realms, because only a being of pure ectoplasm could handle the pressure of infinity.)

danny phantom does have that favor, along with the crown and the ring and the ectoplasm necessary.

an important note, especially for crossover stuff, is that being the ruler of the realms is like being the god of gods. because gods have specific universes and specific afterlives under their control, but they have no power over that ocean that is the infinite realms.

basically if the crossover vibe isnt

then i dont want it

(ps hes doing this experiment with tucker and then sam pulls up and shes like “danny! i cant believe youre going to try and eat concrete! … without trying to eat plastic waste first because if you actually can eat it then you could solve so many environmental issues holy shit—“)

[artofmyraid]

Oooooo it's a Ghost!sif and Possessed!Siffrin based one-shot, spoooky.

(Technically, this can also count as Canon-compliant.)

Minor in stars and time spoilers, y'know island north of Vaugarde stuff and minor Siffrin backstory stuff.

Cws; implied death, depictions of drowning, panic attacks, and Siffrin-typical memory issues, read with caution :3

(he really goes through it in this one)

Also, this is my first time posting any writing of mine, so any feedback is appreciated!

(Especially about how I wrote Siffrin, wanna know how I did for my first time)

You hate potatoes, you hate them, their mushy and gross, and you're sick of eating them.

You are storming away from your house, ignoring the distant yelling of your parents telling you to come back, you have an idea...

Just... a small prank, to take your families fishing boat out to sea, just for a bit, you'd be right back.

You know how to operate the boat, you've done it plenty of times with your family members.

You won't go too far either, you just want to scare them a little bit.

You feel your shoes sink into the black sand. Shells and rocks glitter in the moonlight.

The beach looks like it's very own night sky.

It isn't long after you reach the beach that you see your families dock in the distance. You can see the fishing boat bobbing slowly up and down in the water beside it.

You speed up, you don't think they'll follow you, yet... but you don't want to get caught sneaking away with the boat until you're out in the water, at least.

Hopping into the boat, you feel the boat sway underneath your weight, and you bring out your arms, trying to keep your balance.

When you're sure you're properly balanced, you grab the rope that's keeping the boat tethered to the dock and begin to untie it.

You let out a tiny "whoop!" when the knot comes undone with little to no struggle!

You gently push against the dock, and the boat begins to float away, grabbing the oar you start to row away from the shore.

You row, row, and row, you look back when you feel like you've been rowing for long enough.

You look behind you, you can still see the shore, there are lights out on the beach, you can't make out many more details, it's too dark from this distance.

This is far enough, you decide.

You look to the sky and you stare at the stars.

They look so pretty out here...

The island is almost entirely unlit at night so that the light pollution doesn't pollute the sky and block the stars.

But looking at the stars has always been nicer on the water, in your opinion.

Their everywhere out here... they reflect against the water, everything around you is lit up, its almost like you're one with the stars.

You lay against the side of the boat, watching the stars. You start to point out constellations, you point towards Ursa major, a part of it is the big dipper, you trace it's path to the north star, Polaris.

Polaris, your mother always says that if you're lost to look for Polaris, and it will guide you home.

Polaris is a part of Ursa minor, you remember, you trace the constellation with your finger. Tracing Ursa minor until you land on the constellation for Draco.

You continue this for a while, letting the gentle sway of the waves lull you into serenity.

It's just you, the stars, and the sea out here. You and the universe

You breathe in, and out... your eyes begin to flutter close, it's so calming out here...peace and quiet.

. . .

Your eyes snap open, you're jolted awake when a particularly strong wave rocks the boat. You tense, feeling your body jolt up.

How long have you been out here???

Your head snaps behind you.

You can't see the shore anymore, you realize.

Your breathing hitches, you spin your body around, already grabbing the oar...

...

You realize...

You don't remember what you were doing...

What are you doing out here? Were you... looking for something?

You drop the oar in the boat, You look around, seeing nothing but water. You feel your anxiety start to rise, your breathing grows unsteady.

You don't remember, you don't remember, what are you forgetting.

You try to find answers, anything from your memory, any reminders.

But nothing comes up.

Suddenly, you're hit with another realization.

You can't remember anything, a home, a... family, a name even, you... don't remember who you are.

( Who are you? )

You are thrown into a full-blown panic attack at the realization, your head hurts, thinking is making it worse. Your hands move making their way under your hat as you start to pull at your hair.

You... need to find land, you realize.

You take a few shaky breaths, you breathe in. . . And out. You continue that a few more times for a while.

Once your breathing is steady and the pain in your head is duller, you start to look around again.

You're at sea, you know that, with nothing else but a boat and an oar.

...But which way do you go to find land?

You don't even think about it as you look to the sky... you stare at the bright lights looking for something...

...you aren't sure what.

You just remember their important, that's something... at least.

You breathe in.... and out.

Your gaze lingers on the brightest star in the sky... you look away.

You have a really bad headache again, it feels like your mind is rebelling against you, it's making you dizzy...

You flinch when another strong wave rocks the boat, and water splashes you, leaving puddles inside the boat.

You grab the oar, gripping it tightly... you feel like there might be a storm coming... that's not good.

You breathe in and out. You swing your body around, picking the opposite direction, you start rowing,

You continue to row until your arms hurt, your breath hitches as you start to hear a distant rumble, the lights in the sky start to fade as lightless clouds quickly take their place.

You try to row faster as the waves grow aggressive. Your progress is hindered with every crash against the waves.

You row forward, and the waves push you back. A desperate dance of push and pull.

Which is, of course, when it starts to rain, it starts suddenly, you don't notice at first, you're already soaked from the waves.

But the drizzle almost immediately becomes a heavy downpour, and with it, the sea gets more aggressive. Working against your boats every movement, you hear it creak and wobble.

"No, no, no, no!" You squeeze your left eye shut when a splash of salt water hits the side of your face, you don't stop rowing. You aren't even sure you're moving forward anymore.

The sea pushes you back, and moves you forward, the boat is basically stagnant as you moves back and forth.

You see flashes of light even with your eyelids closed, followed by the rumbling thunder.

You feel sacred. You're terrified, you realize.

This feels like the worst possibility, no land, stuck in a storm with the sea working against your every move.

You gasp out when another bad wave crashes against your boat, you let out a yelp of surprise as you're thrown across the boat, you slam right into its side.

The impact causes you to drop the oar, it falls to the wayside.

The waves don't stop there.

Right after the first one you see an even bigger wave, one of the biggest waves you've ever seen. You stare at it wide eyed.

You grip onto the sides of the boat, holding tightly, you screw your eyes shut, taking one big gulp of air as you brace for impact...

.

.

.

*CRASH

.

.

*SPLASH

You're startled when you feel the water engulf you, the water is freezing cold upon impact, but you don't feel it that much after.

the waves bounce you back and forth like children fighting over a toy.

You open your eyes, the salt burns them but you keep looking up.

You force your aching arms to move as you swim upwards.

You manage to break the surface, gasping for air, you only get a moment to take another gulp of air before another wave pulls you under the surface once more.

You feel heavy, your soggy clothes are making swimming difficult, but you keep moving up, you have to.

Just when holding your breath starts getting difficult you manage to get your head above water once more.

You breathe in- and are immediately taken underwater, taking in a big gulp of water instead of air.

You immediately start to choke, and your body locks up as you feel salt water burn your throat.

In a sudden burst of energy, you ignore your bodies' protest as you push yourself up again.

You cough and cough, when you're finally met with air, you spit out water, but you don't have time.

You take in a painful breath of air, and then you are once again taken under the surface.

You continue to swim up, desperate, but suddenly, you start to feel the weight of your cloak against your body.

You can't swim up, YOU CANT REACH THE SURFACE OF THE WATER.

The waves push and pull. Any progress you make upwards is swept away as the waves push you further down.

You keep moving, keep treading, you can't hold your breath any longer-

Your lungs hurt so much. Your body burns in agony, the waters thrash against your body, and you realize that you are going to die.

You are going to die here. Alone, confused, gone, you'll disappear under the waters of the sea.

Would anybody notice you died? Are there people out there missing you? You can't remember, and you'll never get to find out, either.

As you find your body too heavy to move any longer, the searing pain in your lungs makes you unable to hold your breath for a second more...

You can't move, everything is cold and hot, you feel it as water starts to fill your lungs, your body is in too much pain to fight any longer...

You're so tired...

One, last time, you ignore the stinging in your eyes as open them, you look to the surface, and you see... light

So many lights, they feel...familiar to you.

You can't remember why, but seeing them again... makes you feel comforted.

...stars, your mind provides...

You feel your thoughts...start to become as murky as the water... slow, distant.

...you stare at the blurry streaking lights above you... closing your eyes... as you make out one last coherent thought...

You want to live, you wish to live, please!

The universe, the stars, anybody....

You just know there is so much out there... You...

You don't want to give up here!, you just want to live.

You... want to...

Sinking deeper into the lightless abyss with only the company of the streaking lights above you.

You find yourself unable to hold on any longer.

And

You

let

go...

[chargoeson]

Hello! Writeblr re-Introduction

hiiiii pals! I made my writeblr introduction last year and it was such a good intro to the community! but as time goes on and organizations fall i want to re-introduce myself and my writing without any associations.

my name is Charlotte, but you can call me Char as well. She/Her, I'm 25, queer, and live in the Pacific Northwest of the United States.

I write literary fiction with a special affection for surrealism and dream-like vibes. I do have a couple soft fantasy and short story projects that I've made posts for, but I'll stick to my litfic on this pinned post as they are my passion projects!

themes I often explore in these books are: isolation, anxiety, complex relationships between mothers and daughters, bisexuality, winter, dissociation, and overall rural misery!

I have a bachelor's degree in English Language and Literature and paid special attention to Gothic and Romantic movements.

on top of writing, I also love quilting/sewing, collage making, playing Stardew Valley and Baldur's Gate 3, and doing DIY home renovations.

Reading is my passion, even more so than writing! My favorite authors are Murakami, Mieko Kawakami, the Bronte sisters, Iain Reid, Han Kang, and Ottessa Moshfegh.

my three main WIPS can stand alone but are technically a trilogy. read about them after the cut!

The Ballad of a Blue Whale-- This novella was written in November, 2023. It follows Maren Hara, a recent college graduate who has to move back in with her father, a rigid and unfeeling doctor. To cope with the emotional distance of her father and the slow dissolution of her relationships she begins walking through the night. Both to be away from home and removed from her current life. It’s during these walks she finds a jazz bar in an adjoining city. The patrons, and especially the owner of this bar, captivate her. At the core of the narrative is her inability to open herself to others, and how attempts to do so are physically and mentally cataclysmic, although necessary. As she finds herself, she loses both her old life and this interim space.��

I Want to Build a Home with You-- This novel is in the first draft/development stage. I began in December, 2023. Its events follow Leonie Richards as she walks her grandmother, famed novelist Hellen Barnaby, through the final weeks of her life then inherits her home. Leonie, once an infamous performance artist, decides to settle into a life of portrait painting for a small but wealthy pool of clients left to her by her grandmother. Her old peers. After Hellen’s death, Leonie’s final connections to the outside world are her strange clients, the art store clerk, and her uncle Ox who is embittered by his lack of inheritance. The longer she stays in the home, the stranger things seem to be. She wakes up ragged, dirt under her fingernails with memories of a rock formation in the forest she has never seen. Forest spirits or generational curse, there is a limerence threatening her life. 

No Glory-- Special Agent Seth Barnaby has been tasked with investigating the mysterious, possibly cult-associated murders of young women across the state, but this one could be the key. To decode the newest set of clues he teams up with Director of Anthropology Dr. Miel Noh and they get into the field. The small town misleads them at every turn, from an odd boy named Calf to the corpse of a girl who was staying in his family’s motel. With Seth’s checkered past he recognizes the patterns, but time is of the essence and if they don’t find answers another woman could die. With no way out, they return to the only lead Seth knows: an institutionalized man who confessed to the first murder that brought Seth to the FBI years ago.

and that's a wrap! thank you for reading, would love to reconnect with writers from last year as well as new friends. feel free to slide into my asks, follow, or join the tag list.

tags: @annlillyjose @coffeeandcalligraphy @subtlefires @belovedviolence @onomatopiya @thelaughingstag

[layover-linux-official]

Counter-counterpoint: would you be okay with your computer - likely the only one you have - being locked down in ways that limit your education, and full of whatever pre-installed spyware and keyloggers and content firewalls the IT Team decided to inflict on you, whether for personal power trip reasons or the mandate of a hostile government? Probably not, right? Well, children are people too, and genuinely an oppressed class in ways that most adults don't care to examine.

I grew up with school computers that treated all LGBT information as adult content and mistakenly blocked a lot of programming resources. In multiple states right now, decades later, there are laws in effect that teachers must out trans students to their parents. There have been multiple scandals about school employees illegally accessing student laptops, for example turning on cameras remotely while students are at home and changing clothes. I'm not talking abstract theory here. I'm talking about a topic where the rubber has long since met the road, and will probably start squealing black smoke into the air in the next administration. And as America-centric as that sounds, there are mirrors of the same situation in a lot of countries.

There's a further wrinkle, too. I've been on record for ages with my stance on homework - that training students to take work home without working hours boundaries is an extremely unhealthy cultural stance, which contributes to inappropriate work/life balance expectations in adulthood. There's an analogous problem here: that locked down student machines acclimate students at a young age to accept invasive non-ownership of their computing hardware. That non-ownership isn't fine for adults, and it isn't fine for children. Don't teach them it's acceptable.

The control argument is rendered even less valid by the fact that small school IT teams, even well-intentioned ones, usually have paper signs scotch taped to the walls in various classrooms with the WiFi password. Random personal machines participating in the network is already the pervasive norm, and it likely always will be.

So let's finally address the issue of machine misuse. I'm not ignoring it, let's think about this. Misuse is already subjective. I worked around the firewall to play silly flash games at school, and I turned out fine. Most people's idea of misuse is already overbearing and unreasonable, but what if a student truly does something bad? Well, for previously established reasons, locked down student machines don't fix this, but I'd argue that this is not a technical problem at all. Even if you could implement The Perfect Bullshit Preventer, it wouldn't address the problem of educating students on internet safety and good citizenship. You can only do that with conversation. I'm sorry there isn't (and will never be) some magic bullet technical solution so you never have to sit down and talk to a child about boundaries and consequences, but them's the breaks. I agree that prevention beats cure, but that's exactly why an advance conversation about this topic is valuable when you originally hand the machines out, so you have fewer awkward remedial conversations (and possible disciplinary responses for repeat offenders) later.

Granting school IT teams carte blanche power over student laptop configuration and usage is the kind of thing that can sound sensible on the surface, but it doesn't hold up to thoughtful scrutiny. When you recognize it as a form of security theater, which it is, the potholes suddenly feel very familiar, and the rebuttal practically writes itself.

taking control of a school-managed laptop shouldn't be a fucking crime. literally so many kids learn about technology and gain an interest in it from trying to bypass school restrictions

[tixdixl]

🌹🎈🥩

Maybe for Oisin and Kingsley? Or whoever's shouting "ASK ME!" in your brain :-3

Oooh!!! These are fun! Thank you!!

🌹 (rose) - What does your oc find attractive in other people? Are these traits found in their friends and/or romantic partners? Are they found in themselves?

Kingsley is aromantic~ lol. He is in the painful place of quoiromantic where he is not capable of experiencing romantic love. However, he finds out thanks to a couple of folks that he is willing to be on the receiving end so long as he is not expected to reciprocate those feelings.

Also I need you to know... the moment you asked, my dullahan emerged looking like this:

Oisín is such a hopeless romantic and has only ever fallen in love with one person. But they could give you a long list of what all they love about Lilia Vanrouge.

Personality is huge for them. As is the sense of humor. Being demisexual, those things and how they mesh with them are incredibly huge.

That said though, they love a partner who could absolutely snap their neck metaphorically. One who is willing to take the time to get to know how their existence works and would be as much of a threat to them as they are to their partner. They dont like the idea of a power differential- unless that differential is created willingly. And the realest thing? Is that they are happiest when both their partner and they themself are capable of being strong on their own and also in the presence of each other.

They love a partner who is willing to exist and be and live with them, with no regrets or shame. They are a hopeless romantic, and thus would love a partner who would be willing to things as they hit them. They love a partner who would willingly receive their affections as their heart and the moment carry them- and a partner who would reciprocate that energy. To dance in the rain; to hold their partner until they fell asleep in their arms; to go on little outtings sporatically and with or even without any plan. To live in the moment as though no one else in the world exists.

They love having a partner who they can reflect like the moon reflects the light of the sun.

🎈 (balloon) - What does your character do at parties? Are they a wallflower or a party animal? Do they go with friends or alone?

Kingsley canonically refuses to participate in the theatrical performance during GloMas. He refuses to dance. He refuses to enjoy the festivities because that motherfucker tried to almost kill everyone and got off scott free. In general though, he really isnt much of a party goer. The only real party he actively like... participates in is his coorination celebration way after he graduates and thats kind of because his found family won't let him be a wallflower.

Oisín is shy at like... parties where there are a lot of folks they don't know. In particular, they dont go to parties unless they are going with someone they know. But if its like... a party where everyone coming is a friend or family? They will be there and they WILL participate.

🥩 (steak) - Does your oc have any coping mechanisms? Healthy or unhealthy?

This is... such an interesting question. I honestly had to spend a lot of time pondering this...

If we are being technical, fighting and hunting start out being sort of coping mechanisms for Kingsley. But when he starts making friends (cough- Jack), he starts to develop other coping mechanisms. Running and training begin to slowly become forms of coping mechanisms for him. But he still... does target practice... a lot.

Oisín on the other hand tends to self isolate and write- write everything. Positive. Negative. All their feelings conveyed on a page rather than expressed outwardly.

If you made it this far- thank you for reading ^^;

Prompt

Tag list: @ramshacklerumble @the-trinket-witch @starry-night-rose @elenauaurs @rainesol

@cyanide-latte @winterweary @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @boopshoops

@lumdays @twstinginthewind @inmateofthemind

[cosmererambles]

So...People have been asking for my Kelsier Essay.

I'll publish it in several posts that are qued apart.

Kelsier Essay

This is not a formal, academic essay. It’s a loose one but I feel it drives home the point well enough and brings forth good evidence.

 I hope the dear reader will forgive my use of a proper noun as I write this essay; it removes somewhat of a formal aspect from its words but I must admit, it does come from a personal place of my heart. While this essay is meant to be persuasive, it’s also meant to be constructive and to drive a point home that I have been musing on for quite a while. This essay has major spoilers for the entirety of the Cosmere. If you haven’t read all of Mistborn, SH, and all of SL, please refrain from reading this.

In the endless expanses of the Cosmere, there are hundreds of characters whom many hold dear and just as many whom people hate. You could say this is due to the brilliance of the author, who, despite his busy schedules and near constant time spent behind a keyboard, finds time to sign sheets and answer questions. Why is signing sheets and answering questions relevant to beloved and reviled characters? Read on.

Brandon Sanderson answers hundreds of questions, many of which are inane, innocuous, or silly. Some are deeper, others delve into the basis behind some of his choices while writing. Still others pertain to characters. We get to the meat of it. This particular character is known, through the writing, as a brutal man, who let nothing stand in the way of his goal, who, while cleaving the noble class of his society in twain, uplifted the peasants and upended the thousand-year reign of his deity and ruler. Yes, we’re talking of Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin, hero of the Final Empire, and a character that leaves many people puzzled.

Reddit forums are frequented by questions about him. r/Mistborn and r/Cosmere alike have had their fair share of debates, and there was one thing I noticed in many of these: they take the words of Sanderson very, very seriously. Why shouldn’t they? He’s the author, is he not? Back in 2013, Sanderson had a Q&A session where someone asked him who his most disturbing character was. The WoB is as follows:

I_are_pant

1.Which of your protagonist characters do you dislike the most as a person? Taking in account that you know all of their inner secrets and motivations. 2. On the flip side, which of your antagonists do you connect with the most? The Lord Ruler seems an obvious choice as he was misunderstood by everyone for so long. But still, I’m curious.

Brandon Sanderson  This is a tough one, as while I’m writing, I HAVE to like everyone. However, the most disturbing of them is probably Kelsier. He’s a psychopath—meaning the actual, technical term. Lack of empathy, egotism, lack of fear. If his life had gone differently, he could have been a very, very evil dude.

 This Word of Brandon has had a decided effect on the fandom, namely in the fact that critical thought surrounding Kelsier, his motives, his struggles, and his successes, has all but been erased. He has been branded a psychopath, and there is nothing anyone can say against it.

The word “psychopath” is a very negatively charged word. To preface things, I want to be clear that this essay is going to refer to “psychopathy” as Antisocial-Personality Disorder. The term psychopath is very old, and largely refers to individuals with this particular disorder. The traditional definition of psychopath is someone who both lacks a conscience and lacks empathy.

Through this essay, I plan to painstakingly showcase that Kelsier fits neither the outdated term nor the criteria for the actual disorder, through canon book citations. I will break down each diagnostic criteria for Antisocial Personality Disorder (Henceforth shortened to ASPD) and Kelsier’s character traits at large. I wish to not only prove Brandon wrong (It is a very old WoB and I doubt very much he still believes this.) but to prove to the fandom at large that Kelsier is a good man. A flawed man, but a good man. I will also note specific character traits that I feel are of note in discussing him, his motives, and his current ideologies.

(Please note that there are plenty of individuals with ASPD that are not bad people. Your actions make you bad, not your mental health. I will be using terms such as “bad” and “wrong”, but this is in regards to a fictional character, NOT a real life human being.)

Antisocial Personality Disorder is a disorder characterized by the DSM-V as a Cluster-B personality disorder. It shares its family with Narcissistic, Borderline, and Histrionic disorders, and is characterized by a “continuing disregard and violation of the rights of others, occurring since the age of fifteen. To be diagnosed with ASPD, you must show a pattern of three or more of the following characteristics:

·         Failure to Conform with Laws and Social Norms

·         Deceitfulness (Repeated lying or conning of others for personal profit or pleasure.

·         Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead.

·         Irritability or Aggressiveness (Repeated physical fights or assaults.)

·         Reckless disregard for the safety of others.

·         Consistent irresponsibility. (Failure to keep a job or honor financial obligations.)

·         Lack of remorse.

Psychopathy is a term that was coined before this disorder was identified and refers specifically to a person lacking in both empathy and a conscience. The term is still widely used today, along with the term Sociopath, often interchangeably. For this essay, I’ll be largely relying on the psychiatric standards set in the DSM-V.

[softlyspun]

Oh, this is fun! As a historical costumer, I have some Thoughts on how corsetry and fit interact, and this is actually a topic that was keeping me from writing a costuming post for the Ginger and Mint girls. Might as well get it out of the way now! So, corsets...

I think the first thing that might not be completely obvious is corsets are sturdy. Even cheap ones from places like Corset Story are much, mush heavier than, say, a t-shirt or dress shirt. For its components:

The Busk

So, when I refer to the busk, I'm taking about the front closure of the corset, this bit right here:

(My cat decided to help.)

This is the bit that's going to give you trouble when you put the corset on, even if it's the correct size. It's a rigid bit of metal, much, much less flexible than the rest of the corset bones, and it's where the closures are attached. Usually those are the little metal clasps that you see here, but sometimes, especially in modern fashion corsets, you get some really whimsical ones, like this thing from Corset Story.

I'm inclined to say the busk isn't generally a point of failure in a corset: those little metal loops are riveted in place.

Next, we have

The Bones

So, when I'm talking about corset bones, I mean these bits:

These are long strips of something stiff but flexible. Historically, whalebone (a misleading name, it's actually baleen) was used, though, you'll also see things like stiff cord or reeds used for the purpose. Modern corsets use plastic or metal. They tend to be about the weight and flexibility of zip ties, maybe slightly stiffer. With time and use, these bones will conform to the shape of the wearer's body. This is sometimes a point of failure, usually when the boning pokes through at either the top or bottom of the corset. This will usually manifest as the tip of a bone poking you. (Almost every time this has happened to me, it's been under the armpit, but it could just as easily jam annoyingly into your waist). I suppose, technically, if it was put under some kind of weird strain, a bone could snap and poke through the middle of the garment.

Last, we have:

The Laces

So, a corset is actually a fantastically adjustable garment. This isn't to say that it isn't possible to wear them too tight, or for a corset to be too small, but in general they're a lot more forgiving than pop culture would have you believe.

At least with the corsets I've worn, the top and the bottom of the corset actually lace separately, and they tie at the middle. I almost always end up loosening the laces almost as far as they'll go when putting a corset on, getting the busk fastened, and then lacing it to the desired tightness.

While it's possible to lace it up on your own, the whole thing is much easier with another pair of hands.

For the points of failure here: the laces themselves can vary wildly. I've personally never had an issue with laces breaking, but it's not impossible that they might fray/weaken against the eyelets, or, if they're under a lot of strain and made from a flimsier material, they might just snap. The eyelets themselves are another potential point of failure: I've found that they can pull out and tear a garment when under strain (Or if you make the mistake of putting a grommeted garment through the wash. RIP, the kirtles I made in college). This is less of an issue when you're looking at historical construction, since historical eyelets are more or less embroidered into the garment, like this:

This is stronger and less likely to pull out, but still has the potential to unravel or wear out.

The final potential point of failure is the fabric of the corset itself. Like I said, these things are sturdy, but they're not indestructible. If the corset was already worn/damaged, and not carefully mended, it's possible for the fabric to tear (possibly dramatically!)

Just for funsies, let's look at how likely the issues are to occur:

The corset is uncomfortably tight, and it's all your character can think about.

Yeah, this is absolutely likely to happen. I think anyone who's done historical reenactment or cosplay has misjudged the fit of a costume at some point. Bonus points if the corset is an integral part of the costume, or if you're at a con or a Faire where you can't easily get out of the stupid thing. It almost always goes along with chaffing from the fabric of whatever you're wearing underneath the corset (and you should be wearing something underneath the corset. They're undergarments, but not next-to-the-skin undergarments)

I actually have my own personal experience with this. At a wedding, a reenactment friend came up to ask why I wasn't dancing. When I mentioned that I was corseted into a formal dress that didn't quite fit, her face went from teasing to sympathetic, and she assured me that I should just sit down.

The corset won't fit, no matter how much your character--or a helper--tries to get it on.

Like I said before, corsets are surprisingly forgiving (just lace it looser), but sometimes a garment is just too small. This is bound to be a point of frustration: even mass-produced fashion corsets can set you back a couple hundred bucks, and it takes a while for them to ship. If it's a custom corset, that's a much, much bigger investment, in time, money, or both. Depending on how much time you have before the event where the corset was being worn, this might require some radical changes to costume/garment plans. Many historical dresses are made to fit over structured undergarments, and won't fit correctly (or possibly at all) without a corset underneath. If it's for a cosplay, this might mean having to frantically throw together a look-alike out of duct tape and hope the morning of the convention.

All that being said, it might be possible to salvage the garment by just adding in a new panel. This was often how maternity corsets were handled in-period. Still, if the character is in a hurry, this is likely to end up being an obvious patch job, especially if they don't have a matching fabric on hand. If the corset is being worn as an undergarment, this might not matter. If it's being worn as a fashionable overgarment, it might cause remarks.

The corset is beginning to break or come undone as it struggles to contain your character.

I suppose it's possible that a less-experienced assistant might tie a bad knot that could come undone, which would honestly be the best case scenario here. The corset would just loosen as the night went on. Otherwise, this is the herald of frustration: this is going to mean either some time-consuming repairs, or buying a new corset.

The corset bursts open, unable to contain the pressure behind it.

This one's pure fantasy (not that there's anything wrong with that!) The possible ways I can see this working:

The rivets along the busk pull out, letting the corset fall open in the front.

The laces tear, sending shreds of ribbon everywhere, and the garment opening in the back.

The fabric itself tears, probably along one of the sides, in between the bones.

The corset is too restrictive to take off, and your character needs help getting out of it.

This has so, so much potential for a sweet, intimate moment. At the end of a day, feet and head both aching, I've found that I usually just want my beautiful outfit off. And there's always that point of exhaustion, realizing that the busk isn't going to cooperate and let you get out without unlacing the stupid thing, but that the laces are either tied too tight for you to undo yourself, or the knot is just out of reach. Turning to your equally exhausted assistant, and just quietly asking for help. The sigh of relief when the corset finally falls away. The red marks on your skin, where the fabric was pressed too-close for hours. The overall soreness of being through a busy day in costume, and the satisfaction of having had a great event. A vow to take things easy tomorrow, to let your body rest and recover.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on corsets and historical costumes as they relate to this kind of kinky fun!

corset prompts if u can!!! like being too big for a corset and just either not fitting or burstin it if thats ok !!

A time and a place:

On the way to an event that your character needs/wants to look extra nice for.

At an event, presumably with plenty of people your character wants to look good in front of.

On the way home from an event that your character may or may not have gotten a little too wild at.

At home, while getting dressed.

At a store, while trying things on.

The issue:

The corset is uncomfortably tight, and it's all your character can think about.

The corset won't fit, no matter how much your character--or a helper--tries to get it on.

The corset is beginning to break or come undone as it struggles to contain your character.

The corset bursts open, unable to contain the pressure behind it.

The corset is too restrictive to take off, and your character needs help getting out of it.

The cause:

No fault on your character's part; the corset was simply too small for their body.

Too much eating/drinking.

The corset used to fit, but your character has gained weight since they last wore it.

Bloating, be it from nerves, bubbly drinks, something they ate earlier, what have you.

Too much movement, gradually wearing on the too-tight corset and/or your character.

[deoidesign]

please please please please please please please let me tell you about this comic I want to make it so bad please I can not wait I am losing it

If I don't make the comic then I'm not going to make it... I need other people to see what is in my brain so I'm not the only one going feral over them

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Birthday Planning

SO! Fun fact. I was kinda running out of ideas.

Then I had THIS idea.

And well. After the last ride? We deserve cuteness don't we? ;)

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No edits we diving right in! (pppst. @spotaus I got the new installment get in here ;) )

*---------------------*

"Horror! Wait up!"

Horror blinks as he turns back around and searches the crowd. It only takes him a moment to spot the excited bunny monster. He tries to give a smile while he waits for a moment for the other to catch up.

Ellie stops before him panting harshly as she leans against him "Oh god." more pants and weezes.

Horror tilts his skull as he keeps the other steady "Hello Ellie... something wrong?" Maybe she needed help or something?

Ellie manages to pull herself upright again adn smiles brightly "Nothing is wrong! It is just I had something very important to ask you guys and saw you so i sprinted all the way over here."

Horror nods and gives her a look "What did you want to ask?"

Ellie grins widely "When is Nightmare's birthday? Like. No worries! I get that you guys havent been here for quite a year yet and with everything going on especially the whole kidnaping thing. we get you guys want the first birthday to just be you guys but Dani realised we still had some of our better quality cherry jams left over and I got the amazing idea to use those in a birthdya cake but! Well.. you know... gotta know when the birthday is. and we both figured it hadn't happened yet as you guys hadn't mentioned yet... so... When is it? And all you guys birthdays for that matter."

horror needs a moment to process all the information she just dropped on him. When he realised what she was asking he realised a tiny problem.

They all come from different universes and the calanders were not the same.

Worse.

Horror isn't even sure if Nightmare even has a birthday he celebrates. They never celebrated it as the castle.

Horror looks down at the groceries in his arms before looking at Ellie "Is it... okay I give an answer later?"

Ellie frowns before her eyes shoot up to his skull and hole and she cringes and rubs her neck as she looks abcka t his face. sheepish smile on her face "Right... sorry. That... that was a lot at once wasn't it? Just... think about it okay? And you guys got our number!" she takes a few steps backwards, almost bumping into someone before she disappears into the crowd again.

Horror sighs in relievve, crisis averted. Now.

When the fuck are their birthdays in this world anyway?

--

Horror returned home to his datemates and their kid. Horror still feels his soul pulse happily even at just the thought.

They sit together in the nest while their dinner cooks slowly in their oven. It is an old stone oven and Horror loves it. it is sturdy and takes up a lot of space but he love using it.

Killer frowns as he is still staring at his phone "I mean... We can just pick dates and call it a day? It isn't like I was still celebrating my own birthday back in my universe anyway. I only started that up again with you guys in the castle."

Dust hums his agreement and Cross nods too "True! XTale also wasn't big on birthdays unless it were the once which marked important ages. I am down to just pick one and call it."

Nightmare frowns as he looks between them before pushing closer to Dust "Not like it matters. It isn't like i am growing and stuff."

Dust nudges Nightmare's skull with his own and mutters softly "Hey... what did Fauna say?"

Ngihtmare doesn't say anything and just pushes clsoer to Dust.

Dust doesn't look like he is bothered by this at all as he just nudges Nightmare gently again "Come on... what did the nice deer doctor lady say?"

Ngihtmare grumbles but actually answers this time "That I won't grow until i am healed."

Dust nods "exactly. As long as you are healing you won't grow. Which, she told us is a normal response for children to have as their bodies and magic are much more fragile." he bonks their skulls together softly "Which means. You will stay our adorable six year old until you are healed fullly. Including physical, mental and magic health."

Nightmare looks down embarresed and mutters "should be healed by now... I am a god..."

Dust looks unimpressed "You are also a six year old who lived his whole life being abused and hurt and when you finally had the power to defend yourself you had to do an adult god's duty." he nuzzles him "Take your time. We aren't in a hurry and any monster knows what it means if a child isn't growing."

Nightmare relaxes a bit and nods. accepting Dusts words.

Dust looks content as he glances up before looking slightyl embarresed as he tubs his hood closer around his skull "what?"

Horror then realises he is staring and a glacne confirms to are Cros and Killer. Cross looks completely enchanted and Killer is straight up cooing. Yeah no wonder Dust is getting shy. He was the same when the four of them spoke about dating.

Horror smiles at Dust before taking his chance to say something "Well. We better pick a birthday for him." Horror smiles at Nightmare "Or do you have one we don't know about Night?"

Ngihtmare shrugs and mutters "Dream and I were born on the longest day of the year... I don't know which date it was in our universe and when it is in other universes."

Killer groans "Of course it was on the sunniest day of the universe- ugh." Killer shoots Cross a glare but Cross jsut sends him a warning look back.

Horror agrees. Killer would have no doubt said something about either Dream or Nim and neither of them matter. At all. Not when they have a babybones that probably never even had anyone celebrate his birthday.

Dust stays on task as he hums in thought "Well... we could figure out when the longest day is here... and say that is your birthday? usually those fall in summer."

Killer shoots upright "or! We can pick the day when the longest night happens! Go right to the other side of it all!"

Horror watches Dust and Killer debate the options while he watches their tiny charge think. and that is why he sees Nightmare blink and looks up a bit as he no doubt gets an idea. Then the doubt sets in wihtout him saying anyhting.

Horror speaks gently "Did you have an idea?" luckily Killer and Dsut shut up right away.

Nightmare shrugs and mutters "maybe... I thought... you know... I became six again... and you guys picked me up so second chance and stuff... so shouldn't that count as the day? Because it is the day this whole thing started?" he tugs himself clsoer to Dust.

Dust hums as he rubs his spine oh so gently "I think it is a great idea." he glances at Killer "Kills?"

Killer grins as he taps away on his phone "already on it! lets see..."

Horror smiles at Nightmare "I think we all agree it is a great idea."

Nightmare smiles a tiny bit and Horror sees a tine glimps of that confident monster Nightmare had been with his powers. Which is good. This means they are guiding him alright towards a future where he is confident in himself, and hopefully happy and healthy.

Killer sits up and holds up his phone in triumph "Figured it out! We got here near mid summer and we had Ngihtmare for two months at that point. Ngihtmare become his true self a month before we got him. meaning!" Killer grins at Nightmare "You are a spring baby!" Killer shows the date to them all.

Ngihtmare looks away embarresed and Dust nods "Sounds good."

Nightmare however looks a bit anxious "But that is so soon already?"

Dust nuzzles him "That is okay. We will just do a small party with us five. Well and Crop and Straw if they want to come."

Horror sees Nightmare looks surprised and just chuckles "It will be nice. Something nice to focus on and enjoy together." he rubs the tiny cheek and Nightmare closes his sockets to lean into the touch.

The five of them relax and eat dinner soon after that as they casually discuss when everyone wants their own birthdays. Horror makes a point of picking up their housephone and calling Dani and Ellie to give them an update on the birthday situation and to invite them the party if they want to and have time. Horror also gives Crop the same update and invitation.

They are together. They are healing. The are happy.

And they have a party to prepare. They have to make sure Nightmare enjoys his very first birthday party after all.

*---------------------*

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[elodieunderglass]

I wish I had something intelligent to say but I really like His Delicious Materials. I’m waiting eagerly for the next chapter. Thank you for some truly excellent writing!

(In reference to the Dungeon Meshi Daemon-AU fanfic)

You are very very welcome, and don’t worry about saying anything in particular, it’s nice just to have readers for the weirdest fusion in the whole ao3 tag