#there's this one book I read in middle school that I think was actually non fiction?

[ofswordsandpens]

reblog this and put in the tags your favorite (or most memorable) mandatory reading from school

[inawickedlittletown]

Handsome Little Bookworm (BuckTommy) - one-shot

Summary: In which Buck discovers how avid of a reader Tommy is.

BuckTommy Positivity Week Day 4: hobbies and dates

Rated: G

Words: 1.1k

@bucktommypositivityweek

-

Read on Ao3

Buck realized fairly quickly that his boyfriend was a romantic. He didn’t seem to think that he deserved romance or that anyone would be willing to go to all that trouble for him, but he certainly loved to watch romcoms and he read more romance books than anyone that Buck had ever met. The first time he was invited over to Tommy’s house he’d zeroed in on the built in bookshelves that held both books and DVDs. He’d been interested right away, especially because of the insight that it might give him to Tommy. 

“This is quite the collection,” Buck had muttered as he perused the movies. “Chimney did say you were a big movie guy.” 

“When you grew up the way I did, escapism is all you really have, Evan.” 

Buck nodded. “I went with the route that kept me out of the house until I broke something. Usually my bones.”

“Evan,” Tommy said, exasperated.  

“I don’t do that anymore.” 

When he got to the book section of the bookshelf, Buck pulled out a dark blue book with white writing that read Boyfriend Material. 

“Is this a guide? Do I make the cut?” Buck asked. 

Tommy plucked the book from his hands and returned it to its spot. It brought him close enough that Buck could smell his cologne. It was earthy and warm and Buck wanted nothing more than to press himself up against him and maybe turn around and kiss him silly. 

“You are definitely boyfriend material,” Tommy responded and he took a step away from Buck. 

Buck knew he was blushing and thinking about how it hadn’t even a week since they had defined what they were doing. After not having had a boyfriend his whole life, it felt amazing to actually have one. Some might say it sounded a little juvenile, but Buck loved it. He loved that Tommy was his boyfriend. 

Buck ran his fingers over the spines of a few more books and slowly came to the conclusion that half the books Tommy owned were romance novels. It was a little unexpected, and Buck didn’t know what he had expected to find on Tommy’s shelves because Tommy had never struck him as someone that spent their time reading non-fiction or the thrillers that had become popular due to all the true crime podcasts. Maybe he just hadn’t expected Tommy to be very invested in reading. Romance books made sense, though. So did the mix of sci-fi/fantasy. 

“So which of these is your favorite?” Buck asked. 

“I don’t think I have a favorite,” Tommy admitted. 

Buck glared at him. “Which one have you read more than once?” 

“Not that many.” 

Buck perused the books himself, looking for one that might be a little more worn than the others. It was difficult entirely because Tommy seemed to take meticulous care of his books. But, of course he did. He had an entire section made up of classics whose titles Buck recognized from reading lists at school. Going up a few shelves, two books whose pages faced out caught his attention. Buck could understand putting the books that way on the shelf because the edges of the pages were pretty. He grabbed them both out. 

The books were by the same author, TJ Klune. The covers were cartoonish in a way. One featured a house at the end of a cliff and the other a house in the middle of a forest that looked entirely like it was ready to collapse. He looked at the back cover of one and then the other. 

“These sound interesting,” he offered. 

“They’re very good. Your favorite?” 

“Nope.”

Buck hummed and put them back. He grabbed another book at random. Less. The cover featured a suited up guy falling backwards. 

Next he looked at a very thick white book with some kind of ship on the cover. And then The Hunger Games which Buck had actually read. A Sherlock Holmes story collection and a few books by Andy Weir. He recognized The Martian because he’d seen Hen reading it a few years back. 

“Have you read everything on here?” 

“Most of them,” Tommy said. 

“Hmm, I think I like knowing my boyfriend is well read,” Buck said as he put Good Omens back in its place. 

Tommy snorted. “If you count romance and speculative fiction well read.” 

“You read more than me.” 

“And I bet if we found a book in a topic you found interesting, you’d be in a deep dive,” Tommy said. 

Buck didn’t deny it. He did smirk at Tommy and pull him into a kiss. “How about we keep you my handsome little bookworm.” 

The rest of the tour of Tommy’s house resulted in Buck finding even more books. He hadn’t been looking, it was just that Tommy had books literally everywhere. He had another bookshelf in his bedroom and a small pile on his bedside table. He had cooking books in the kitchen, even. It was cute and Buck had no idea when Tommy made time for reading, but he did. He knew that he took a book to work with him for the downtime in between calls, but with everything else Tommy did, it was still shocking how many books he got through. 

In the months that followed, everytime he stayed the night, he found that Tommy had already finished the book he’d previously had on his bedside table and that it had been replaced with something entirely new. He liked looking at the current book and asking Tommy to tell him about it. 

As far as hobbies went, reading was not one that Buck had expected to find hot. Not like Muay Thai which involved tight shorts and a very sweaty and delicious looking Tommy, or even Tommy tinkering away at a car wearing a backwards cap and a tight tanktop that would invariably get covered in oil or grease stains. Buck just hadn’t known what it would do to him to know that Tommy wore reading glasses. 

He’d kissed him about it and begged him to keep the glasses on during sex that night. He had absolutely no regrets about it. 

Buck was also a little amazed by how much of Tommy’s mail consisted of books getting delivered to him. Or how whenever they went anywhere that had a local bookstore they had to make time to go inside and peruse the wares. Tommy always bought at least one book. 

Some of the best nights were the quiet nights where Buck had his headphones on and he watched a documentary or dived into his research and next to him, glasses perched on his nose and a book open in his hands was Tommy. Buck could picture them doing that for years. 

He could see it so well, the two of them a bit older sharing in each other’s space but doing their own thing. Occasionally sharing a smile or a kiss maybe with rings on each other’s fingers to top it all off.  

[theoceansluvr]

Llyod Garmadon x Reader

warnings; daddy issues and trauma.. it's llyod what do you expect? author's notes; by popular demand, aka one of my favorite ppl told me i should do it, my ninjago obsession !!! was gonna keep this to myself bc this is the nerdiest thing i will ever write on this blog but <9 kind of a mix of relationship hcs and regular old hcs

oooo he's so sweet i can't even describe it

doesn't really know how to do typical couple things i fear

mainly because he's scared that your either with him due to some ulterior motive or you'll get scared of him considering his past and father-

please please reassure this poor boy he's on the brink of a collapse from overthinking it

onto the normal, non sad headcanons !

biggest pillow fort building fan

most of you dates consist of sitting in one and watching really bad horror movies

oh and carmel popcorn !

if we're using the idea of him not being a lil Lego guy, he'd be one of those dudes with the BIGGEST Lego collection

(do i talk about Legos too much in my headcanons ???)

he will actually sit down and tell you about how long each of them took in full detail it's adorable

makes you a playlist every other day fr

i know that's more of a Cole thing but i like to think music is one of his ways to relax so he has some crazy good music taste

you guys have those frog build a bears or just any build a bear honestly

but he reminds me of the frog

you know those cute little Lego hearts ? you guys would have those

his is your favorite color and yours is green

he would totally walk you to class but would absolutely be nervous because he's not exactly the class favorite..

but you don't mind !

really creative when it comes to gifts and whatnot

like handmade cards and stuff like that

sort of went over dates already BUT

COMIC STORE DATES !!!

i will argue with nobody over this one either

probably a Marvel fan

would ironically like green latern though

doesn't really mind pda but absolutely isn't used to it

but in private he's the biggest cuddler

really, really likes when you play with his hair

i have zero explanation for this except for because i said so

based on art from one of my favorite artists on insta he would unironically wear those middle school boy minecraft fits

i love him dearly but the gods know he does

dyed his hair with koolaid once and it absolutely made him want to ACTUALLY dye it

likes when you read to him

it could be the most boring book on the planet and he'd know lay there and listen to you

knows how to play drums ???

definitely would teach you too

likes taking naps with you because he's chronically sleep deprived

fighting your dad and his henchmen doesn't come cheap im afraid

i could write about him for hours and hours but im sure people would get bored of that !!

all in all he's one of my favorite childhood crushes and i missed him so hard

[communistkenobi]

Obviously art does not rest on methods, media, or the amount of effort a person exerted in making it, but I think AI art is yet another way that capitalism is changing the form and function of art (separating artworks from their original meaning on a different and even larger scale) and given that it is made by exploiting workers (the original artists and the people they pay pennies to sort through it to remove disturbing images) it makes people feel yet more powerless in the face of corporations so there is a big negative reaction to it. This negative reaction may not be articulated in the way you want but I think it's very understandable that people have reactionary feelings about large scale corporate exploitation.

just for the record before I respond, I am replying to this ask in good faith just as you are asking in good faith, I’m not angry at you and many of these questions I’m asking are rhetorical, for the purposes of reflection. So please no slapfighting in the notes, thank you!

First: I’m not disputing exploitation. in fact privileging AI as uniquely exploitative handwaves away the massive amount of exploitation that artists already endure and have endured for a very long time, as well as the horrific amounts of labour exploitation involved in mass producing the ‘tools of the trade’ so to speak.

But this is, again, a non-sequitur to my argument, which is that art produced under exploitative, destructive, “lazy” or politically repugnant conditions is still art. MCU films are art regardless of the fact that they are 3-hour long informercials for the American empire and require massive labour exploitation from CGI animators, actors, film set workers, and everything else: advertisements are art: AI art is art. Horrifying, trite, unoriginal, bad, socially destructive, maybe all of those things are true and we can talk about the merits of those claims (I certainly have strong opinions about them), but what is politically gained from saying bad, unoriginal, horrifying, or trite art isn’t art? Whose definitions are we using here, and if those definitions should be universalised, what does it mean for artists who are only unoriginal, only bad, only whatever else?

I return to my original example: are children not qualified to be artists if they only make “bad” art? I used to trace movie stills from Harry Potter photo books as a child because I loved the characters - am I a fraud for doing so? Am I given grace for my incompetence and “theft” on the basis of me “still learning how to do real art”? When does this grace period end? If we argue that only struggle can produce art, what level of struggle? Struggle for whom? Drawing isn’t difficult for me because I was taught how to hold a pencil, read, write, and draw by a western industrial publicly-funded primary school by a teacher paid with public tax dollars, supplemented with help every night from my mother and father, two married cishet middle class people in a mostly stable (if miserable and verbally abusive) marriage - all of which is resting atop stolen indigenous land. Under what historical conditions can arguments for artistic struggle be made? When we argue for struggle(/hard work/whatever) as the basis of art we are pre-supposing a universal subject whose struggle is globally standardized and calculable - which in all of these discussions on here is (implicitly, though sometimes explicitly) a white able-bodied settler living in a western state who benefits from universal primary education that teaches them the foundational skills of how to make art. You can probably add university educated to that too, given how many of these arguments seem to be swarmed by undergraduate students.

Arguing that there needs to be some threshold for method, labour, intent, or message for art to ‘actually be art’ is politically reactionary and is what I am responding to. It requires transcendental claims about the Artist as a unique labourer set apart from and superior to all others, one whose skills are universalised and whose intent is always observable and present in their work. So if people want to talk about exploitation they should talk about exploitation, not the definition of art. It’s not my fault people can’t stay on topic!

[snowballthekitteninwonderland]

Mwahahaha, now that that disgusting Ratman is getting cancelled and reviled by what once was his blindly adoring fans, I can actually actively interact with GO stuff the way I want (that is, as something I adore to bits yet not devoid of criticism) instead of passively enjoying it w/o receiving uncalled for hate from people defending him!

More about my designs under the cut

While I don't *hate* the tv series nor do I think it's bad by itself at the same time I do despise it as an adaptation and what it did to mainstream audiences and fandom perception of everything GO related. I think that is reflected in my designs, as people familiar with older fanworks or with a preference for book & radio omens will immediately notice my designs take cues from there + the general older fandom consensus pre-prime series. Also my Zira's hair is meant to be white, albeit not a pure one, he's not blonde. My design for him has his eyes closed for 2 reasons, both forms of hiding his true nature: as a non-human and as his true personality, in a similar way that Crowley does with the sunglasses. While not pictured here, my Zira's eyes are pure unnatural black including the sclera and golden irises that are just. Plain good ol' fire, like his flaming sword(altho I'm very tempted to change it into stars, that's pretty nice imagery coined by TV Omens fandom), to both hint at his status as an angel and as a contrast to Crowley's yellow snake eyes. Meant to be unsettling and uncanny whenever he opens them.

Since the very first time I read the book back in middle school I always pictured everything like a relatively simplistic looking cartoon, with the most cartoonish sfx and everything, idk it happens the exact same with the Discworld books, I think it's just how my brain visualizes STP's pen or something.

Noodle Doodle Crowley! He was always Funny Pathetic Noodle Doodle Uncool Man™ in my mind, pure gangly limbs and awkwardness. I generally do not like to depict him with snake traits bc of his dysmorphia, but precisely bc of that I can't help but give him a lil' something he cannot control about his body and that he hates about himself, hence the forked tongue. Once he reaches True Peace ™ and Self-Acceptance™, he will be able to finally will it away, his is case of a classic Penelope (2006)/Sophie from Howl's Moving Castle deal.

I also have Many Thoughts ™ about the differences between the iterations of the GO cast, including their visual designs, but that goes on an analysis post, not a fanart one.

[i-can-read-to-him]

The Wesper Fic Club's Author Spotlight is a post series that aims to feature two to three fic authors a month, randomly selected from a pool of names put forth on our server. The authors are then asked to answer three interview questions, select up to five of their fics for us to feature, and finally, recommend three fics by others in the fandom.

(Note: Our spotlighted fics are not limited to Wesper, though they tend to be a central pairing in most of our authors' featured works.)

This week, we are putting a spotlight on Reo's writing!

Socials: @reonnex (Tumblr) | Reonnex (AO3)

❀

Part One: Author Interview

Q: When did you first start writing? What keeps you going today? 

A: I've honestly been writing for as long as I can remember. I've always loved creating stories or thinking of ideas I would change in the books I've read. As a kid, my dad and I would read all types of books together at night before bed, which had always sparked my interest. And whenever I was given my first phone and introduced to online media and more fandom spaces, I realized I could write what I wanted. In middle school being a theater kid, most of that consisted of writing musical fanfics.  The drive to keep creating is what keeps me going. I am in the process of trying to write my own original book, And while I have barely started it or even figured out a plot  I want to be able to be the person who can make others feel seen in my words. 

Q: What are some recurring themes you’ve noticed in your writing?

A: I tend to get really into the character's heads. I will write their internal monologue sometimes more than the actual scene itself. I notice that sometimes I may write a good 100-200 words purely on how that character is feeling. Sometimes it can be good, but also it is a habit I am trying to break to keep the pace going and not make the fic seem “stuck.”

Q: What kind of music do you like to listen to while writing

A: Honestly all different types. I have character playlists that I listen to while writing for a specific character if I really want to channel them internally, but the songs can range from Jhariah, Noah Kahan, Alex G and many more. I have to get myself into their mindsets for me to write them or I am stuck on a blank page for hours.

❀

Part Two: Selected Works

I'm biting my own tongue, I am my fathers lost son

Mature | 70K+ (WIP) | Wylan-centric, Wesper Whump, Torture, Torture aftermath, Recovery, PTSD

Reonnex says: This is my pride and joy. A what-if scenario that Wylan was the one captured instead of Inej at the end of Six Of Crows. It is still ongoing but I am almost finished with it. As of now I should be wrapping it up in two more chapters plus an epilogue! 

Who’s a heretic child?

Teen | 19K (Completed) | Matthias and Wylan's friendship Alternative first meeting, Implied child abuse

Reonnex says: This was my first Six Of Crows fic, and what a bold take I went for. It was way out of my comfort zone, but I loved it. This is an alternative first meeting/universe where Wylan was still with his father as Matthias was broken out of Hellgate and has him go undercover as a guard for Wylan after rumors spread about the boy.

Lay your secrets on my lips dear

Teen | 6K (Complete) | Wesper Medical abuse, Drunken confession, Hangovers

Reonnex says: Wylan and Jesper both get drunk together, and as the night progresses, Wylan begins to share more of his past. I love this fic so much as I really wanted to dive more into Wylan’s trauma around those trying to cure him. I focused on the types of tonics based around the 1800s.

A family of trees wanted, to be haunted

Teen | 5K (Complete ) | Inej-centric, Wylan and Inej friendship Referenced Child Abuse, Referenced Rape/Non-con, Panic attacks

Reonnex says: This fic discusses both Inej and Wylan and their traumas. I had a lot of fun writing in Inej’s POV. This fic takes place the night before the Pekka showdown, and I wrote it due to wanting to know why Wylan wasn’t there. 

Paint me like one of your Saints

Teen | 3K (Complete) | Wesper, Jesper-centric ADHD, Paintings, Domestic, Fluff and Humor, Sexual Humor

Reonnex says: Jesper agrees to become a muse for Wylan to paint. I wrote this fic for Jesptember, and I have already fallen in love with it as one of my favorites. As someone with ADHD as well, I feel really connected to Jesper and wanted to show that internal battle of wanting to please others, but also struggling do go through with it.

❀

Part Three: Author's Recs

flowers on burning ships (i know i’m the one you want to forget) by sunshineriptiee

Gen | 30K (Complete) | Wesper Breakups, Second chances, Exes to lovers, Post-Crooked Kingdom

Reonnex says: This includes a Wesper breakup, but also such a sweet ending. I really loved how this fits into Six of Crows so well. Wesper is growing older, and so are Wylan and Jesper. It was a refreshing touch to see how things may not all be perfect, and that there has to be time to figure yourself out.

this town is fake (but you're the real thing) by hopeisbloody

Teen | 50K+ (WIP) | Wesper Fake dating, Actor!Jesper, Influencer!Wylan, Modern era

Reonnex says: I have become so obsessed with this fic so much. It’s a modern AU of Jesper becoming an actor, and Wylan a famous celebrity. The two agree to fake date, but then that becomes into something more.

Shoot from the Hip by @nerdlingmerchling (AKA dandelionpower)

Explicit | 83K+ (WIP) | Wesper Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Reonnex says: An amazing fic by the talented @nerdlingmerchling. This is the second work in the series Slow Burning Gunpowder. It is a lens through Wesper for the show, including scenes from it, as well as creating new scenes that fit so well into cannon.

❀

Please support our authors by commenting and leaving kudos on any stories of theirs you read and enjoy! Don't forget to also reblog this post and check back soon for our next author spotlight to come.

Interested in joining our server and getting to know our community? Feel free to request an invite via the @i-can-read-to-him ask box.

[buzzkillers]

Fables and Parables 2/5

Pairing: Namor x Black!Reader

Chapter Summary: you begin to feel the affects of the curse.

Warning: NON-CON, religious themes, non-consensual voyeurism, magical sex pollen, dream-walking, mentions of abortion, attempted forced pregnancy.

PART ONE

It rained the next day. 

It's so bad that you're forced to braid your hair. The gel wasn't working and the frays of your edges curled underneath the humidity.

Lucky you, but that's not where your bad day ended, of course not. 

The storm had forced you all inside, the rain battering against the very thin walls of the hostel. All plans for exploration were delayed. Quickly, your discomfort turned into irritation and then your period started. Of course it did. Thankfully, there was no blood yet but it was the beginning of it. You could feel it in the twist of your gut, the odd ache in your pelvis. It's so subtle that it could’ve passed a stomach ache

But you've never felt your stomach twist like this before. Like there was a needle in your guts that pulled and twisted.

 So yeah, you were on your period and the weather was shit and you were starving. But you didn’t mind, you really didn't. Until then it rained the next day and the day after that and you never bled. 

“It’s global warming,” your roommate whispered, her face still shoved into her book. 'Art and Society of Mayan culture ' it read, the bind of it worn and dirty. 

You relaxed in your own bed. Your leg splayed off the edge.“-just think about it,”

“I'm thinking about it,” You lied. Because you’ve actually been reading the same  ‘Wikipedia’ page for the last five minutes and you were afraid that if you moved a muscle, something just might burst. 

The other didn’t know this though. How could she? So she rolled her eyes, lips pinched. “Im serious,” 

“I mean it's May—May," she turned a page, "We're supposed to be touring temples but instead we're-" she looked over at you and then winced. "-I actually don't know what you're doing," 

"Waiting for this bootleg ibuprofen to kick in," you muttered, your phone now fallen asleep. You took a strangled breath. 

"I don't think it's working," 

“Are you sure you don't want tea?” she asked cause she was nice and didn’t know that every word she spoke made you want to bite bricks. You shoved your head into the pillow and tried to suffocate yourself. “Nah, rather vomit,” Last night, you only had one cup and instantly spat it out. You’d rather stick to sink water. 

“I think I'm just gonna die here,” you groaned, ‘cause it would just be your luck really. Then you curled into a ball, your arms wrapped around your knees. The position only made it worse.  Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes. 

The woman sucked her teeth, “Right, die in a run down hostel, in the middle of nowhere, that's not inconsiderate,”

“Kindly fuck off,”

“To get tea? Yeah I'm suddenly in the mood,” you shot the woman a glare, and suddenly it's her that's ignoring you. The look on her face smug as she jumped into some trousers and walked out the door. 

You took the moment to look out the window. It faced the front streets, above all the pop shops and grocery bags. Below you, people ran to get away from the onslaught. No one wanted to drive today, clearly. People bustled in the streets, business men went home and school children ran with their bags over their heads. Anything to get out of the rain. 

Except one, a lone figure at the edge of the sidewalk, who stood straight, unaffected. He did not wear an umbrella or a raincoat for that matter. Instead, his shelter was the leaves of the sidewalk trees. It flicked and fettered over him, it also did a shit poor job of actually keeping him dry. He looked at your Hostel. Unmoving. In your delusion, he was also blue, he looked very very blue.

Your face pinched and then the needle in your stomach twisted and your intestines curled and you forgot all about it. At least some people didn’t mind the rain. 

—-

It never stopped raining. Not truly. It might've drizzled, or splashed or allowed a pause within the bulging of clouds and the clap of thunder but it never actually stopped. Not for more than a few minutes anyway. 

Time only existed within the ratatat typing of rain. Between the moment where it splashed and melded into the streets. 

You didn't know what was more irritating, the cramps or that sound. After a few moments, your roommate picked the sound and that was all you needed to hear before you popped another ibuprofen and migrated to the play rooms of the hostel. 

Play room was stretching it though. It was simply a small living room with an ancient boxed tv and folding chairs. It's crowded when the two of you get down there. An odd mix of your classmates and other residents and they’re all watching the news on the weather. 

‘Unexpected’ they said, ‘unlikely to stop anytime soon,'  which in other words meant your earlier sentiment was right. 

You were never leaving this hostel and you were all feeling it. You've never felt so bored, so hungry. And the daily work assignments and sandwiches in the fridge weren't cutting it. You guys were going to have to leave the hostel for food eventually. Maybe that's why you were feeling the way? 

 It was a good hypothesis as the pangs in your belly tightened. You've never felt a hunger like this before. Strong and potent. 

So, a few hours later you're outside now. A few blocks away from the hostel and filled with enough ibuprofen that it might not be the storms that’ll kill you. There's only one grocery store on your street. It's an artificial beacon of fluorescent lights, the door rung when you opened it.  

With wobbly knees, you walked inside and the weather followed. A man with a mop looked up and glared at you. You ducked into one of the aisles.  

You needed something sweet, something heavy. Bread? No. Ice cream? You ran through each aisle. And then you walked and then your just sort of sludged your way around. Each movement made the world curl into itself, your floor tilted beneath your feet. 

By the time you actually got to the front again nothing looked appealing. Tortilla bread suddenly looked too heavy and chorizo looked too much. You looked at your basket, lips downturned. 

Maybe you should just get a drink instead. But even that made you want to curl into yourself. Soda was too much. A lemonade too sweet. What about water? At that your stomach twisted and turned, cold than hot. The cashier looked at you plainly. 

“¿Eso es todo, señora?" you blinked.

He was an older man, with sunken eyes and gray hair that was long but tied into a tight ponytail. He gave off a scent of artificial pine tree, his fingers battered with callouses. He had a gold tooth and his shirt, although clean, was translucent due to the rain that battered through the window every time a customer came in. 

You licked your lips, warmth in your belly overflowed. You wondered if he’d let you get on your knees. If all it would take was a look and sweet words before you led yourself behind the counter-

“señora?” the man's voice boomed you out of your thoughts, you flinched back. “Sorry, I-” you shook your head, “¿Tienes uh agua?” 

His eye twitched. “pasillo 10,”

Your mouth went dry. You looked to the back aisle, at the long tiled floors that seemed to drag on forever. On a back shelf the water sat pretty.  You licked your lips again. Something in you bloomed. It was exactly what you needed. Water.

With a fevered glance back, you battered your fingers against the counter. One gallon would be just as much as the food. It looked more appetizing too, like it would belly over the thirst that ran in your tummy. 

Like a great way to wash the taste of the man off your tongue.  

You shook your head, “Actually-” 

“-¿Te importaría conseguirlo para mí?” the man just looked at you, their mouth downturned. He looked ready to stay no. 

The aisle wasn’t that far away. And anyone with working legs would be able to make it to the back. But something in your face made the man's face relaxed, the corner of his lips pinched. “fine,” then with a glance, “Pero no vomites en mi suelo,” 

Unlikely. In fact vomiting was a very real possibility. You felt it in your throat, in the overtone and queasiness that slobbed in your tummy. 

You looked at him as he left. Watched the skin on his back, the sweat that twinkled down his spine. Your stomach flipped and turned. Suddenly, your hands were clammy and your lips dry. What kind of hunger was this?  

What kind, made you want this? Claws in your back, and kisses on your chest. You wanted it bad, like a bird wanted murder and a plant water, it was a need, a cancer that furloughed in your deepest cavities and bloomed. Ricocheting like a bullet before you fell to your knees and vomited it all out. 

—

You don't go out much after that. 

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

I've always been curious. How much does the English curriculum focus on reading and comprehension compared to analysis of literature in non-English speaking countries? I imagine it's not until the last few years of school that things like Shakespeare are even remotely considered something worth teaching.

How do I answer this without turning it into a TEDtalk...

SO.

The QUICK answer is: It depends.

It depends on the country. It depends on the school. It depends on the curriculum.

I'm afraid you've fallen into the hole called 'non-English speaking countries' - and referring to them under a single umbrella... when in reality, the curriculum of, say, Japan's EFL education and Norway's EFL education are WILDLY different. Hell, even the Philippines and Japan are more different than you might suspect.

Personally, as someone who has taught English as a Foreign Language in high school in Japan (albeit briefly, it was a one-year contract to fill in for another teacher who left the position due to COVID stuff, most of the time I'm an Elementary School teacher), I can tell you that 99% of the high schools in Japan will not have Shakespeare ANYWHERE on their curriculum. Most people in Japan will never run across Shakespeare unless they take a specialized class... probably IN UNIVERSITY.

Shakespeare is a difficult, antiquated form of English. It does not appear on any standardized testing. Why would anyone except native speakers take the time to learn it?

The LONGER answer is:

Students in English-speaking countries enter school knowing how to speak English.

I know there's a tendency to think of 6 year olds as these dum-dums who say things like 'I goed school' but anyone who has actively spent more than 10 minutes around a first grader will know that, barring developmental difficulties and learning disabilities, they actually speak using full sentences and correct grammar 99% of the time.

Schools in areas where English is already spoken natively can focus on:

spelling (oh gods English spelling is a fucking mess, I'm so sorry children I am SO sorry)

punctuation (spoken language doesn't have punctuation, so we have to teach kids to convert pauses and concepts into commas and sentence breaks)

written format (and various ways to apply it in different situations)

literature (famous books, novels, stories which are considered a good serving platter of concepts like analysis and metaphor and other tools we use to make written communication effective and interesting)

Schools in areas where English is NOT spoken must FIRST focus on:

Words (they must memorize on average 2000 to have a basic understanding down)

Pronunciation (each language has different sounds, and English has a LOT of weird sounds that many foreign speakers don't know how to produce... and it takes practice)

Basic grammar (Thing goes first. Doing-action-word goes next. Thing-that-has-action-done-to-it usually goes after that. Sometimes we have a time word that goes-- oh god how do you explain this to an 11 year old oh god)

Maybe spelling by the end of elementary school (my 5th graders only know how to write basic 3-4 letter words)

Basic reading, grammar and punctuation by the end of middle school, along with basic conversational skills

Ability to write a whole sentence, maybe a paragraph, by the time they finish middle school

High school is basically just reviewing more complex grammar because holy fuck is there a lot of it

Shakespeare? Who the FUCK has time for that?! These kids are still struggling to understand how a gerund works!

Things that native English speakers know on instinct, like the fact that this is a weird sentence:

the red big dog sits on the car

(vs the big red dog sits in the car)

...must be taught, little by little, to non-native English speakers, which takes TIME TIME TIME.

So next time you meet someone who speaks English as a second language - I need you to be kind to them. I need you to be thoughtful. And I need you to be thankful you were able to learn all these crazy ass grammar rules and spelling when you were still a young child and your brain was silly-putty in the shape of a vacuum that sucked up vocabulary.

.............fuck ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᵀᴱᴰᵗᵃˡᵏ

[yarameijer]

Hello!! I just wanted to say i love your fics so much, when i first saw it in around 2022, i was amazed! Your writing style is so good, and it inspired me to be able to write fanfics aswell. I've gotta say, your fics are very interesting and entertaining! My most favorite fic of yours is probably Warped and Accidental Reverse. (I re-read those stories atleast 54 times i think?) Anyway, i was thinking if you had any headcanons for the Gryphon Trio? (Tsurugi, Tenma, Shindou) Also, if possible, DONT ABANDON ACCIDENTAL REVERSE PLZ🙏

Heyhey! Thank you for all the kind things you said <3 and good luck with your own fanfics!

Ohoho you don’t wanna know how many people asked for headcanons for these three and it took me ages because apparently I’m very bad at coming up with headcanons?? Who knew??

Tenma loves hugs

This means that when he gets excited he tries to tackle Tsurugi with hugs, and Tsurugi normally tries to evade him but every once in a while is caught off guard and then has to deal with octopus-Tenma

As time goes on Tsurugi starts accepting physical affection a bit more, but he's still a tsundere about it

It’s actually quite the normal sight for Tenma to hang off of Tsurgi if he gets the chance

Tenma’s less quick to hug Shindou, and for the first few months in their friendship, hugging Shindou is a very big no! in his mind because that’s his senpai, he can’t just hug him!

Over time the two of them grow more comfortable with each other and after talking out a pretty major argument (that I will be writing at some point) they hug for the first time, and get more comfortable doing so

Tenma’s still kinda shy about it tho so Shindou’s usually the instigator

Tenma is a bit more hesitant to tackle-hug Shindou than Tsurugi

Shindou is actually quite quick with giving minor physical affection! Usually shoulder touches during excitable moments, whether that’s after scoring a goal during a match or when one of his friends is upset - think light squeezes or just laying his hand on someone’s shoulder

They all live on different sides of Inazuma Town and the riverside soccer field is more or less in the middle of their houses, so if they want to meet up for soccer outside of school, that’s where they go

Usually when they hang out for non-soccer activities, they just agree to meet at the place they’re going

They like hanging out at Tenma’s place because Aki always has the best snacks, they like hanging out at Tsurugi’s place because his parents usually are working so they’ve got the place to themselves, and they don’t like hanging out at Shindou’s place because Tenma and Tsurugi feel very out of place

Despite that, Tsurugi and Tenma love listening to Shindou playing the piano

Shindou has the worst sleeping schedule out of all of them because he gets caught up in whatever he’s doing (reading a book, ridiculous research on whatever caught his attention this time, thinking up hissatsu techniques or strategies for the team, etc.) and Tenma and Tsurugi judge him for it

Tenma and Tsurugi had a lot of fun training for Fire Tornado Double Drive and end up continuing their hissatsu training together in their free time

They don’t tell anyone about it but Shindou figures it out when they keep coming to him for ‘’hypothetical’’ hissatsu questions

Tsurugi, every chance he gets, rubs in the fact that he’s the tallest out of the three of them

He bullies Tenma by raising his hand too high for high-fives or keeping things above his head out of his reach

He tries the same thing with Shindou, but every time Shindou just stares at him wordlessly, incredibly unimpressed, until he lowers his hand

In fact, Tsurugi is not that much taller than Shindou, but still the one time Shindou tried pulling the ‘’I’m older’’ card in an argument, he didn’t hesitate to play the ‘’then why are you so short’’ card and Shindou didn’t talk to him for two days

Shindou and Tsurugi also have this habit of high-fiving without looking (‘’because they think it makes them look cool’’ ‘’Tenma shut up’’) but one time they missed and Shindou slapped Tsurugi in the face by accident

It was during a match so it got caught on camera and every once in a while Tenma sends it in whatever group chat they’re all in (Earth Eleven, Raimon, etc.) to humble them

Tenma’s a lot quicker to tease them both in group chats than face-to-face

In person, Shindou is the one who teases the others the most, because their reactions are very funny

Tenma gets very shy and starts stuttering

Tsurugi tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him but he’s also very pale and it’s very easy to see when he turns red

For Tenma and Tsurugi both Shindou is (one of) their go-to person(s) for advice, although Tsurugi is a lot more quiet and subtle about it than Tenma

I’ll probably add to this later, because recently I’ve really been building these characters to my liking and I’m starting to notice that it’s easier to come up with this stuff once I’ve developed them more individually.

That being said, I should probably do headcanon lists for them individually!

[myloveforhergoeson]

minnesota

a non-exhaustive list (trust me i have way more) of hcs about the btrtv boys' lives pre-canon as inspired by @partiallypearl 's post here. mostly a mix of things i think fit them, wrote about in my fic, or are briefly touched upon in the show's true canon and never expanded on :)

carlos is super into animals; has a feeder outside his window so he can watch all the different birds from the forest each morning before he goes to school! his family has a large, playful dalmatian puppy named missy he walks in the mornings at the local park

james and carlos were the only two to participate in a sport other than hockey during the summer time - the two of them played flag football in the park ^

the boys all met at a pee wee hockey meet when they were four and they were placed by chance on the same team; they've played every position + have settled into their roles by the time they make the varsity team in high school

kendall is the youngest varsity hockey captain their school has ever had

on top of hockey, logan is in nearly every club imaginable to make sure his med school applications look good - he's running from AV club to chess club to the future doctors of america club to dnd club . his afterschool days are fully booked up, making it hard to spend time with his friends outside of hockey

james participates in local + high school theater as a way to curb his wannabe ways and not annoy his friends about it too much. started with strictly wanting to be an actor until his voice dropped + he realized he could sing in his last year of middle school

^ carlos, kendall, and logan helped him break into the musical world by joining freshman choir. everyone but james hated it.

^^ the choir and drama clubs teamed up that year and all four of them had to be in a production of grease :)

if he's not at hockey, kendall can usually be found either at work or watching his little sister <3

the knight's house is the unofficial official hang out spot for all of the guys. it's littered with remanence of all four boys from logan's med school fliers on the counter, james' beauty products in the guest bathroom, kendall's family photos from his best games + katie's big achievements, and carlos' sports equipment hung up by the backdoor

one of the other guys on the hockey team teaches james how to drive but his mother won't let him take the test to get his license

logan's moms don't call him hortense. they also call him logan.

the mitchell family has a cat named hippocrates <3

carlos + logan would always hunt for crawdads in the local rivers during the summer; carlos thought they were cool and logan wanted to study them

despite being only children, logan and james never actually felt that they were

carlos has three older sisters!!!!!!

of the four, carlos is the oldest, than james, then kendall, with logan being the "baby"

winning hockey games is usually celebrated by the team at a local pizza place, but the boys go out of their way to go there if another one of them succeeds in an area outside of sports to celebrate, like scoring well on a super hard test or getting a major role in a theater production!

that's all for now, but if you liked these, this is a not so cheeky spon for my fic that's all the wrote... if you don't want to read the whole thing, chapter 28 takes place in Minnesota + can be read as a one shot with sections special for each of the guys <3 lmk what you think if you read <3

[mothswritingeye]

So I have prophetic dreams. The way they go is I have a dream as a little kid and think nothing of it, and then have that same dream years later and realize “wait, that dream that I first had several years ago references a thing that only came out recently”. The dreams are mostly nonsense, but they do reference characters/locations/people that I only learned about recently.

Three examples of said dreams to prove that I’m not just making stuff up:

1: I end up in a copy of my old middle school that has a game like super smash bros ultimate, and I have to fight master hand (although the game is wrongly referred to as super smash bros brawl). I first had this dream before I went to middle school, before I met a teacher featured in the dream, before I knew the super smash bros franchise existed, before I knew of characters featured in that game (hero and master hand), before super smash bros was even revealed, and possibly before super smash bros brawl came out, although I’m not sure on that last part as I’ve never played that game before.

2: The five dragonets from the wings of fire series discovering a different continent and meeting a dragon named Rappa. I first had this dream before I knew about the wings of fire series, before they decided to introduce a second then-unknown continent, and before a character from an unrelated video game Honkai star rail was revealed named Rappa. Honkai star rail also didn’t exist back then, maybe not even Honkai impact third, and I didn’t know about Mihoyo or their other games.

3: I have to go to an alternate dimension to occupy members of the president’s security’s bodies to get him to a specific location. When I first had this dream, Obama was president, and I thought my brain had just made up a president. The president featured in my dream was Joe Biden, who I didn’t know existed when I first had this dream. We have to go through a high school in the quest to occupy the security’s bodies, and two students look significantly like Janis and Damien from the original mean girls movie, which I’ve never watched and didn’t know existed until recently. After a certain point, the president and a non-descript friend that’s helping me with this plot is depicted as a stick figure, specifically the one from animator v animation, which is a series I have never watched and have only seen one screenshot of very recently. When we first start occupying the security’s bodies, I’m holding a water for elephants plushie that was only produced for the recent musical, that only debuted earlier this year, that I saw less then two weeks ago and that I brought. (Proof I brought the plushie below). I also didn’t know about the book or movie until I saw the musical very recently. The members of the security team whose bodies me and the friend inhabit are also characters from dragon ball, an anime/manga that I didn’t know about until a few years ago, after I had the dream, and I’ve never watched or read dragon ball. (I think the characters are vegeta and goku, but I really wouldn’t know).

Proof I have the water for elephants plushie:

So you might be wondering, why exactly am I telling you this? Well, recently I had a dream about Angel and Husk from Hazbin hotel that I first had several years ago, and there was a specific shot that I believe may end up in a song in season two, as well as being confirmation (we could guess this, but still) that Husk is getting a love song with Angel.

(The text says:

they fall from reality

Husk is singing

He rows right

Note: Body swapping hijinks?)

(I would also like to advise you to take the body swapping stuff with an ENTIRE PITCHER of salt. I think that has a less then one percent chance of actually getting in the show)

I’m aware that only I have tangible proof that these dreams are prophetic, but I want to post this now so if the shot ends up in the actual episode I can say ‘I told you so’ and hopefully use this post as proof I have prophetic dreams.

[revasserium]

a rumination on falling in love; aka the terrifying and strange reality of "dream girl" becoming "real girl"

or, what happens when an only child who has only ever loved in fiction falls in love in real life instead

this is not for you. unless, of course. you, like me, have felt like this before. which is to say, this might be for you. but it most definitely is, 100%, for me. so read on if you'd like. or, close out and move right along.

i am very lucky, i think, to have had the childhood that i had -- only child, two loving parents. but not only that, two loving parents who were good at loving and also good at parenting (which are two very distinct and different things and somehow, at least in my semi-limited exposure to people around my age, is becoming rarer and rarer these days). i am lucky to have been allowed to grow as i have -- to never question that i am loved, unconditionally and endlessly, to never question whether or not i have something -- because of course it's mine -- i've got no siblings to have to share anything with.

now, to some, that might be a sad, lonely thing, but i never thought about it that way. because i was never taught to think about it that way. and contrary to popular belief, it hasn't made me (or at least so i think) stingy or "bad at sharing" -- it's actually made me rather an over-sharer. i always have snacks at the office, i try to offer advice freely, i spot dinners/outings when i can, i like the joy it brings to share things not only to the people being shared with, but also to me -- the person doing the sharing.

but the double-edged sword of only-child-dom in upper-middle class america is time -- the huge, gaping excess of it, giant swaths of it after school, great big chunks of it on the weekends, the seemingly unbridgeable chasm between turning off the light and falling asleep. later, i'd learn that undiagnosed adhd and very high performing manic depression are to blame for most of my vibrating sense of need to fill every hour of every day with some kind of productivity (this, unironically, is why i love new york city -- the frenetic energy of it matches my mental wavelength so that i can feel "productive" even when i'm just walking down the street or sitting in a bar).

but back then, i -- and by extension my lovely parents -- tried to fill it with stuff -- 2 different art classes, ballet, swimming, piano, debate club, singing, chinese school, and of course, with my still yet unfilled hours -- reading and writing. to say i was raised by the books i read would be an understatement. to say i am nothing more than a massive conglomerate of those characters that resonated most with me in those books would be parenthetical to the fact that i'm also built by all those characters i've ever admired or wanted to be. i am, in the most cliche, literal, non-lampshaded sense "that nerdy book girl" who made it her entire fucking personality to be... that nerdy book girl. and this, amidst the stratospheric rise of "not like other girls" media and rhetoric -- it was not healthy (it still isn't), but it was a large part of who i was. and a lingering part of who i am today.

my overactive, adhd-driven imagination served me well, then. into the stories i delved, and what i couldn't find in my normal every day life, i found in narrative. long before the tiktok-ification of "book boyfriends" came the voices in my head that sounded like all the would-be book boyfriends i'd ever have -- everyone from edward cullen to kakashi to four (that one guy from divergent who only has like 4 fears, which in retrospect is so, so cringe, but alas) to fictionalized versions of one direction members. the list goes on. i used to be able to hold entire conversations, play out entire scenes with these mental constructs with impudent ease. spend hours in my room by myself just imagining.

it was like astral projection -- my body, here, my mind and my soul, somewhere else entirely. and this i believe (to this day) is the core of a lot of my writing and creativity. and also the core of a lot of my philosophies and beliefs. the ability to sink into a dream, a scene, a story.

and then. i fell in love.

and sure, it would be much too cliche to say that misery breeds good art so a happy artist would (at best) produce mediocre art/writing/whatever. because i've also seen fantastic art produced by very, very happy artists. the sad truth is only that it's much rarer than the alternative of the painfully mainstream tortured artist.

but to some degree, i think there's an inkling of truth in that saying. because having a real-life boyfriend, with all the real-life machinations and strings of having said real-life boyfriend has made it, somehow, much harder to access that old imaginary part of me. like a child growing up and losing the ability to "make believe" the way they used to. except, i know it's still there. there are still moments where i touch it, where i dip my toes in and it always feels like coming home.

and it's more than just the normal adult-ish responsibilities of going to work and paying bills, making dinner and shopping for groceries. doing laundry and investing in your roth ira. because before real-life boyfriend, i still did those things and i was still able to seamlessly get to that "elsewhere place". somehow, it is the physical presence of real-life boyfriend that seems to act as a "grounding agent". he is home, so i can't go to that other place. or, i can kind of get there, but i've always still got one foot steeped in reality.

it is not a necessarily good or bad thing, just an observation at most. but it does create this new "space" for the "want" of that elsewhere. for the want to being able to slip into that creative asphodel like i used to -- blink and i'm there. so i find myself often sitting at my desk, wishing, and then wondering what it means that i can't. that it isn't always and immediately accessible to me anymore.

perhaps absolute solitude was the unquestioned prerequisite for so long that i'd never noticed it until the solitude was no longer available to me. or perhaps the book-boyfriends are just shy creatures, afraid of the blaring daylight that real-life boyfriend might shed on their ultimate two-dimensional beings.

or perhaps that was always a "safe space" that i'd created for myself, and now real-life boyfriend has created a safe space for me too, and the venne-diagram of the two space spaces overlap just so, making a less singular space of each of them in turn. i don't know, but it's an interesting thought.

it's always struck me, now thinking back, that i've never been even remotely interested in having a real-life relationship before now. but that i've also never questioned if i wanted the current one that i'm in, if this was "the one" or if it was "good for me". and in that too, i know i am very lucky. few people can say that they struck gold the first time they've ever tried.

i know for a fact i wouldn't be this happy, have this good of a life if real-life boyfriend weren't here. he has made me better in ways that i do not have words to describe. but i'm also terrified of the earthen grounding-ness of him. i've spent my entire childhood and most of my adult life with my head in the clouds, taking the necessary trips back down to earth when i had to but... it feels strange to be "here" more and more. there's a hole inside of me where "that" heaven should be.

but two things can be true -- i am happy here; i still yearn for that elsewhere.

[bluecrocss]

Those Annabeth "fans" lol

I really wanna let this topic go, but if I have ONE MORE non-black pjo fan, come on to my page and explain to me how "they grew up seeing the book characters (they're literally only talking about Leah, btw) one way, and they just can't reconcile it with the show 🥺", I might commit serious bodily harm...

They act like only white kids read PJO. I was little black girl reading it in middle school and annabeth was my favorite character. Do you think I was like, "oh she's blonde and white, how can I ever relate to her??" I didn't really have that choice, cuz as a kid MOST of the books/shows/plays/movies I had growing up, most characters didn't look like me. The hunger games, harry potter (forgive me, I was a kid), nancy drew, every disney princess movie, you name it. I notice how only white people complain about "struggling to connect" with characters that don't look like them, cuz POC have always had to do it. When POC ask for representation, it is because we have historically been ACTIVELY excluded, not because we can't connect to the characters otherwise 🙄

When it was halloween, and I dressed up as my favorite princess (Belle) and my brother dressed as his favorite superhero (superman), we just wore the wig and the outfit. I didn't need to paint my skin white to see myself as Belle. Yet every year there's this new controversy of some white person painting their skin or doing some offensive cosplay when they dress up as a POC character, because they see the race of POC characters as INHERENTLY part of the costume.

Why does your perception of Annabeth and the pjo characters trump mine, because you're white and I'm not? I fully viewed Annabeth as a white girl when I read the books, and when I saw Leah was cast, that didn't change my view of the character because her race was never central to the character. The author has stated the same thing. If you can't view a non-white/non-blonde version of annabeth (I am not speaking about the writing of the show or Leah's performance because this discourse started as soon as she was cast) as annabeth, then the parts of annabeth that actually mattered, the parts that Rick has identified as the most important, the part that I and millions of other non-white, non-blonde girls connected to, never connected with you. Rare representation of Neurodivergence in a female character, being underestimated (which had nothing to do with her being blonde lmao), perseverance, emotional vulnerability, overcoming generational curses and broken family life, abandonment issues, I could go on...

If you managed to grow to the age of maturity and still struggle to connect with people and view people as equal beneath their physical/material presentation, that is a YOU problem... the rest of the world shouldn't have to hold your hand through this.

And once again... NOBODY FORCED YOU TO WATCH THE SHOW. You don't like the casting, DON'T WATCH. Stop, coming to my comments and explaining how you're the exception, and you're not being ignorant, how, in fact it's the author, the casting directors, and the majority of the fanbase, who just don't understand her character the way you do 🥺

Give me a break.

[akumicchi]

𝔗𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔡.

112 prayers

A hopeful message with no destination.

You will never be too heavy for me.

Content: angst, breakdown, hints of depression. Suguru's POV. OC appearance.

I smelled it before I saw it. I felt it before I heard it; the presence, the humming. I had never entertained the idea of time travel. No one could actually predict a forced turn in the highway of time, even if Back to the Future made it look so comical. Despite that, I found myself basking in that presence, in that humming, and let it drive me off to when I was a child: innocent and safe.

“Mom?”, hoarse. Silence. A knot of guilt tightened itself up inside my chest. ‘Don’t go’.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”, there weren't the walls of my room around me, no posters, no bookshelves nor pictures. In fact, there was no room at all. Just an open field I didn't know, somewhere I couldn't remember. I wasn't curled against my mother either. It was just Hogo, and it made me more at ease than expected.

Not being alert in a strange place was a punch to my instincts, but I couldn't bring myself to care aside from a simple:

“Where are we?”

“We’re at school. I carried you here, remember?”, oh yes. She and her stupidly strong arms. “You fell asleep though, so you probably don't”. 

I did remember not wanting to come, earlier that day. The air had felt like lead for the entire … month?, weighing heavy on my lungs with each breath. Every layer of clothing was a tight rope made of rubber. It didn't matter how much I tried to fight the dark clouds, they only grew thicker and tighter. It was exhausting. It'd be way easier to just give into the misery. ‘Ah… everyone would be so disappointed to see me like this, choosing the easy way. But I can't carry this and pretend anymore’. So I hid from sewing fake smiles on my face. I just wanted to drown in the pain without witnesses.

Despite that, I let her in.

“C'mon, I want to show you something.”

“I don't really feel like walking anywhere right now”, it had been four days since Tsukumo Yuki talked to me on that very bench, and left me with more thoughts than I could manage. I needed quiet. “Maybe next time”.

Hogo crouched in front of me. Her voice was soft, the one she used when talking to kids. “Please, it won't be long, I promise. We go and then we come back. You will like it”, her eyes were clouded with worry, she looked pretty like that too, “You don't even have to walk if you don't want to”.

“Hmm? How come? You can teleport now, too?”, I cocked a brow, feeling the slight tug of a smile against my will. ‘The things she makes me do’. Her hands closed and opened for a second. She wanted to hug me, and the realization of this loud and clumsy girl being so mindful around me made my chest ache. 

“Well, I'll show you if you agree to come with me”, she sang quietly with a spray of confidence.

I was so eager to get an answer to these haunting questions. Haibara’s response was as simple as his own mind. Tsukumo Yuki’s, on the other hand… It was complicated. Or maybe it wasn't? Maybe I had made my choice? But what if I was wrong? How could I know? What would she say? I wanted her thoughts, a piece of her mind to tell me…anything.

‘But not now’. The scent from her neck lulled my senses quiet. The tree leaves above our heads were kind enough to shield us from the summer afternoon. Hogo’s hand traced my skin, untangling my worries stroke by stroke. My legs were folded on her lap, and the vague memory of being cradled this way made me feel so innocent. Too warm to think. Too soft. Too comfortable.

She had a book propped up against my thigh. It was open roughly around the middle.

“What are you reading?” 

“112 prayers at midnight”, she hummed, eyes not leaving the pages.

“That's an odd number of prayers”.

“Yeah. It's a story about a non-believer trapped in a time loop trying to save his loved ones after losing them to a mistake… He prays every time for the loop to restart.”

“For a non believer he surrendered fast… At least he has a second chance”.

Silence settled between us. A few seconds later she spoke again.

“Hum, I thought about that too, ‘To pray for time to go back, it's so unfair’. But as twisted as it is, I just can't stop reading. Maybe I'll be surprised”.

“Who’s that god that answers at the first call? That's a real surprise. I'd like to meet him”, that was a slip. My throat tightened and by no means I expected how broken I actually sounded.

Her arms held me closer. When she pressed her lips against my forehead, a sob almost broke through every wall I had built.

“Me too”.

Stop being like this. Don't hold me, don't carry me somewhere calm, don't kiss me so softly. Stop making me feel so small! I don't want the sun, I don't want the breeze, I don't want clouds, or words, or songs, or flowers; I don't want any of it!!

“Shh… it's okay, I've got you”.

[uselessbard1031]

Orphaning My Old Work???

Howdy everyone!

I'll keep this short, but I just wanted to hop on and let you all know that today I orphaned some of my old works on Ao3. I've been wanting to do so for over a year now and finally bit the bullet. Yes, this includes my most popular fic "Legend of Korra X Reader Oneshots" (for anyone whose request I didn't get to, I apologize. I bit off way way more than I could chew with that and have over thirty requests and a dozen half finished fics).

Why?

Well, when I started writing fanfiction for Ao3 I was 17/18 years old. I started publishing said fanfiction at 18/19/20 (19? I think?) and I am now in my mid-twenties so...I've changed. Lol. I've grown up.

When I first started writing I was immature and unexperienced with the world. I wrote for characters I never had attraction to myself (Ex. Adult! Toph, Suyin, Korra, Asami) because people asked me to, I saw those characters got hits, and I wanted to be liked online. It was hard because I didn't see them as romantic interests and I feel the writing suffered for that. Even 'I Bought A War Criminal' (another popular fic I wrote) I fell out of love with Kuvira while writing and it had a rushed ending due to that fact.

The X readers in particular had some smut chapters that explored kinks I don't have and truthfully had never even heard of until reading some other fanfictions. I won't get too personal, but, like many of us on here, I was exposed to way too much shit way too soon in my life so I found new edgy smut topics to keep me engaged. I've since dealt with some of that trauma and also experienced more IRL trauma around relationships and sexuality that make me read some stuff I wrote -- and stuff I READ while underage -- (ex. knife play, non-con, etc) and go woah hey who let me have Wattpad at 12 and what kind of effect did that shit have because--??? (I would like to say that being into certain kinks is not bad and I'm not trying to kink shame but to me I was desensitized due to exposure too young to NSFW material and due to some IRL trauma -- reading and writing that was my way to cope without actually working through any issues. An unhealthy way to cope. I didn't know healthy relationships because everyone in my life up to that point had abused me or hurt me in some way or another either intentionally or unintentionally so I figured Ao3 / Wattpad / Fanfic.net smut wasn't 'that bad'. Now, I deal with my trauma in healthier ways and realize it's just not what I'm into. A lot of it I wasn't even into when I wrote it. But I read it, so I wrote it. Even recently with Outlander I wrote wildshape smut not because I was into it but because all the other Jaheira fics had it and I figured hey it will get views. Because yes, smut gets views).

I'm just not proud of the writing quality. The first chapter of that X Reader Oneshots collection switches tenses like a million times. Who let me do that? Lol. I have a published book IRL that I'm taking down too because omg don't let 17 year olds self-publish XD

The point is, I never really wrote much of that stuff for me. I wrote it to get views. To get comments. To explore things I thought I was suppose to explore. Because no one in my real life was telling me I was good or capable. I wanted reassurance that I was writing the 'edgiest' stuff or the 'fluffiest' or the 'right characters' and the 'right stories'.

Going forward, I want to write for me. It's why I've moved fandoms because yes, I love Legend of Korra and Lin Beifong, but I'm not obsessed with it like I was. I found community in LOK and in AO3 and online in general but, after getting offline -- deleting social media -- reading things other than fanfiction -- basically, as I became less chronically online for the first time since Middle School, I realized that there's so much more out there that I enjoy. And much healthier ways to enjoy it.

I love all of the support you guys have given me and I stand by the amazing love and community I've gotten from all of my commenters and kudos-ers. But those fics just don't represent me anymore. Few of them ever represented me at all. Many were just what I thought would 'sell'.

I want to keep writing, so I will. But for the stories and characters I want to write about in ways that I actually enjoy. I want cute romances and metaphores for life. Writing smut feels like a chore most of the time so I'll probably just fade to black most of the time with a chapter or two exception. I still love fanficton -- it's an artform all its own. But yeah. Anyways, I hope my little ramble here makes sense and I hope you all get what I'm trying to say.

And if you are like past me -- having interacted with the internet and NSFW and smut since a young age and now feeling like every boundary isn't enough in fiction (*clears throat* I see you BookTok wth r those abusive ass relationships you're reading?) just know that maybe that kind of content isn't good for you and know that vanilla isn't lame. Know that you can write the stories and characters you want and that you don't have to write characters you don't want to write or situations that scare you. And you don't have to pretend not to be scared just for the sake of not kink-shaming.

Yeah. Anyway, if ya'll have any questions fell free to reach out to me! I hope you continue to like my work and if you don't, that's fine too. I hope you don't feel like I'm abandoning you. I think I'm just growing up and getting better mentally. <3

~UselessBard1031

[alpaca-clouds]

How To Improve Historical Literacy

As I have already established: If my life had gone according to my plan, I would have studied history at university, not IT/economics. Because history is to me one of the most interesting areas of study. BY FAR.

But being a history nerd also brings me one thing: I... kinda notice how little most people know about history. And I am not talking about the kinda stuff I love even - you know, pre-colonial Americas and stuff. No, I am talking like European history.

I recently allowed myself the kinda joke and ask around with friends and with colleagues of work for them to just generally date me certain historical events, that are definitely taught in German schools. The events were: Christianization of Rome, the Fall of Rome, the Crusades, the witch hunts, the revolutions, the industrial revolution, and the fall of Weimar.

What can I say? In some cases people were off by 500 years.

And sure, I hear you say, but history is not about remembering dates.

I agree with that. History is about understanding how and why things happened. But if you do not even get the general series of events right and how much time roughly passed between those events... you do not understand how and why things happened. Because you have no way of knowing this.

I also quizzed three people a bit about the history of Islam as it interacted with European history and... Yeah. Most I got in response to that were blank stares and the question of: "How am I suppsed to know that?"

We talk a lot about media literacy. What we do not talk a lot about is historical literacy. And I think... that is a big issue.

I talked with a friend about this recently. A retired history teacher. (Mind you, he is not that old, he just could not do teaching anymore because of health issues.) And we talked about how the curriculum in history very much is still following the Great Man narrative - and also repeats a lot of historical propaganda unquestioned.

Sure, at least over here in Germany we do very much interact with the Nazi propaganda in a critical way. But at the same time we absolutely unquestioningly learn stuff as "true" that came from colonial propaganda - or from the Victorian era propaganda about the middle ages.

We generally do fairly little in history over here when it comes to anything happening before 1600. Sure, we roughly skim over it. If you pick Latin class you get a bit more of Rome and Greece. But without Latin class you will barely know anything about those times in history.

And the problem that comes from that is, that most folks never actually LEARN how to even read historical sources. Be it primary sources - or just historical research. Which then leads to people taking words as gospel from some idiots who want to turn the past into their personal fantasy (Shadiversity for example).

And really... I will decry curricula in so many different classes. But none as much as history. Because in history, well... the folks do not even learn the basics.

You absolutely cannot teach history without teaching about how history interacted. You cannot just do German history. Technically the people know that. It is why we learned about the French Revolution, and about the Industrial Revolution in the UK. But that is just not enough.

Kids need to learn how the world works - and how certain things came to be. And something that Germany barely talks about is colonialism. Or the crusades. And both things are so inherently important if you want to understand the state the world is in right now.

More than that, however... Kids really need to be taught how to find historical research and sources to inform themselves.

And I mean that bitterly.

Years ago I did an analysis of certain kids books that had historical themes (like those non-fiction books for kids) and... Oh boy. It was not good. There was so much bullshit in those, that came from research that was at times more than 80 years old and had long been disproven. But those fairly new books had not updated that kinda stuff. And how are kids supposed to recognize those issues? And how are they supposed to develop a bullshit detector, when they are taught bullshit as kids?

And really... Media literacy is bad, btu I think more than anything we should talk about historical literacy.

Might also help with the conspiracy theorists.