#these things are not necessary and I do not need the well over 3 million calories I have but I like having them

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt her <333333 (oni gas range)

[xavigav]

The Reddit Blackout, #196, And Being New to Tumblr

okay i've seen a lot of people in the past ~24 hours or so confused by everything going on with Reddit & Tumblr from both sides - people new to tumblr who don't know how to use it, and tumblr users who don't know what's going on with reddit and why many of its users have joined up here i know this isn't really related to my blog but fun fact about me: i was up until recently a very active reddit user and even mod a subreddit, but I've also been on tumblr for about 3 years now on different accounts, so I think I can see pretty well from both sides of this and explain what's going on this post will be split in 2 sections: what happened with reddit (and what #196 means), and a guide for new users

1. What The Hell Is Going On With Reddit?

The thing that's caused all this ruckus is a major change to Reddit's API, which is what Reddit provides to people so they can pull directly from Reddit to make third-party apps or tools.

The change is that Reddit is changing its previously free API to be paid. Which on its own kinda sucks for developers, but it's not unexpected. They need to make money somehow, right?

The problem is that the API pricing is WAY TOO FUCKING EXPENSIVE. The developer of the most popular 3rd party Reddit app, Apollo, says it will cost him $20 million a year to continue running the app as normal.

Essentially, this pricing forces almost everything third-party to shut down, which causes 3 major problems:

Third-party apps cannot keep running, which sucks for normal users because Reddit's official app is awful. It's slow, its video player is a thing of nightmares, it doesn't have many useful features third-party developers have made.

It sucks even more for visually impaired users because they can't use the official Reddit app at all. Reddit's official app does not work with iOS's native text-to-speech function. Third party apps, on the other hand, often do. So Reddit is forcing blind users away.

Third-party moderator tools cannot keep running, which sucks for moderators because many rely on these tools to properly moderate their subreddits. And moderators are often necessary, because without them subreddits get banned and hate speech and even CSA can often run rampant.

So you see why this change is bad.

Reddit users were PISSED.

So over the past week and a half or so, they have been working on organizing a site-wide blackout. The majority of the most active subreddits have now gone private. Some are only doing it for 48 hours, others (such as r/196) are doing it indefinitely.

That's why you can't access most of Reddit right now, and that's why many users have come here.

You're probably still wondering, though - what is this #196?

Well, as you may guess, it's connected to that subreddit r/196 I just mentioned. r/196 is a subreddit which only has one rule: every time you visit, you must post before you leave.

That's it, that's the subreddit.

The thing about r/196 that set it apart from most other subreddits - and what lends the subreddit's users perfectly to Tumblr - is that it was dominated by queer and leftist users.

So now they've come here and set up shop in #196 and r/196 so they can continue their merry little shitposting.

There's a ton of lore related to r/196, actually, but this is already a long tumblr post and quite frankly I cannot be bothered to write about it at the moment.

2. I'm Here From Reddit, What Now?

Hello there, random new user. As a double-citizen of Reddit and Tumblr, let me show you around this place.

First off, there are some other people who are better at explaining that I am who have made some really helpful things. Watch this Strange Aeons video as a guide to Tumblr culture and functionality and read this post which directly compares Reddit and Tumblr.

Assuming you've done that, here's some additional advice of my own:

Do you miss sorting subreddits by top of all time/the year/the month? Well, you can do something very similar with tags! If you go to a tag at the top of the screen you can select top, and then at the dropdown that says "all time" you can select different time periods! Even 6 months, which Reddit hasn't ever had.

Tumblr has a lot of cool customization features! Even outside your icon/banner/bio, you can change you blog colors and on desktop you can have an html theme (which has its own thriving community here). That customization is part of what sets Tumblr apart from everywhere else - I think you'll enjoy playing with it.

Notes will probably confuse you at first. Unlike the different numbers for upvotes and comments, notes combines the total number of likes, reblogs, and replies into the same number.

Outside of organizing your own blog, when making your own posts tags are what help other people find your post. Use them! But don't abuse them, because then people will just block you.

There are three ways of people finding your post: if someone follows you, if someone follows the tag(s) assigned to your post, and if someone is just scrolling through the tag(s) assigned to your post (and also the secret 4th way no one uses, which is finding it on the trending page, but even if people did use it no one will find your post initially that way)

tumblr is no longer The Discourse Website. And unlike what Reddit wants you to believe for some reason, it is very much alive still. Most of the people seeking fights have moved to Twitter (though some have also moved back here again). You will not get any brownie points for being a dipshit like you do on some subreddits.

So there, welcome to the hellsite (affectionate), you'll pick up on all the in-jokes eventually, for now just try not to be a nuisance and soon enough this'll be your new internet home.

[cosmerelists]

What Cosmere Characters' Rooms Look Like (But Mostly In Terms of Vibes)

As requested by @rainbyanyothername :)

Here is my take on what the vibe of Cosmere characters' rooms would be--vibes mostly because I don't want to be stuck to, like, what bedrooms are canonically like in the various worlds. We're going by vibes, baby!

1. Adolin

I think that, as soon as he stopped having to abide by his father's strict "all rooms must follow the codes somehow" standards, Adolin went his own way...and that way was tasteful and fashionable. Adolin is the sort of guy whose bedroom pieces all match--but not in a "all bought from a matching set" kind of way, but rather, like, a deep orange bedspread and a forest green rug that somehow complement each other beautifully. It's neat--he is NOT going to wrinkle his clothes by tossing them over a chair--but also clearly lived in and homey.

2. Zellion

He doesn't have a room. :( He's always on the run. :( How rude of you to even ask. :(

3. Shallan

I just remember how happy Shallan was to be in that big fluffy comforter when she first moved in with Sebarial. I think she'd love to have that deeply soft bed and that big fluffy comforter and a beanbag chair and also a big egress window in case she has to escape in the night to do spy stuff. It is also definitely not neat.

4. Jasnah

Well...we know nothing is soft if Jasnah can help it. Her mattress is firm, her rug (if she has one) is low-pile, and she has bookshelves everywhere.

5. Wax

I think he has deerskin-rug-on-the-floor-guns-on-the-walls-but-also-everything-in-there-costs-one-million-dollars vibes. Except for the boots, which Wayne left behind as a trade and are worth $1.50.

6. Ranette

Her room is gross and cluttered and every single surface is either guns or gun parts.

7. Dalinar

I mean, surely this one is obvious: his room is Spartan. Dalinar has the minimum amount of furniture necessary to make a room a room, and he didn't even have any photographs before Navani came along. He thinks slippers are extravagant.

8. Lightsong

I mean, this one is clear from canon. Lightsong has, like, nineteen pillows and sixteen blankets and carpets on top of his carpets and a lot of objects that could only be called "baubles."

9. Sigzil

I don't think Sigzil is quite as Spartan as Dalinar--or at least, it isn't a moral thing for him. I think Sigzil would live fairly simply because he's not a big stuff person, and it would be neat on the surface but perhaps a bit dusty if you looked too closely because he's out a lot.

10. Zane

All I know is that his room has a My Chemical Romance poster on its wall...in, like, vibes.

11. Breeze

He has a wine fridge. It's by the bed. His room his mostly tasteful and masculine and, like, full of oak...but also there are sparkly pink pillows and doilies everywhere. We all know why.

12. Kelsier

Kelsier's room would be a sanctuary to Mare; like not-touched-at-all-since-she-was-last-there-even-though-he-feels-like-weeping-whenever-he-sees-it-but-he-can't-throw-away-that-crumpled-up-kleenex-because-Mare-touched-it sort of vibes. Sorry :(

13. Vasher

His room his gross. He thinks he can wear his socks three times before they need washing and in the meantime he will be leaving them on that chair.

14. Vivenna

Her room is very neat--she definitely makes her bed every morning and actually moves books to dust underneath them--and there is, just, no color anywhere.

15. Kaladin

If you asked Kaladin what he wanted in a bedroom he would be like "A mattress?? To sleep on?? What else do you need in a bedroom???" And yes, he's definitely a mattress-put-directly-on-the-floor boy. But then Syl keeps collecting cool leaves and flowers and putting them around, and there are some rocks from Tien, and a flute that somehow ended up back with him, and Adolin gave him something called a "decorative pillow" and in the end it's still a mattress on the floor but surrounded by things brought in by people who love him.

[hrodvitnon]

Just a thought: maybe the reason Godzilla was acting so uncharacteristically aggressive in GxK was because he is literally millions of years old, and the whole timeline of the Monsterverse basically took place over the span of ten years or so. Which, to him, probably feels like a few minutes.

So within the span of a few kaiju-minutes, he:

> had to fight his species' natural predators which very nearly turned him into a host for their eggs and overrun the world

> faced off against his ancient nemesis frozen in Antarctica, who ended up nearly killing him *twice* and almost ended all life on earth

> saw Mothra get killed right before his eyes, and even if he knows she can reincarnate she still doesn't reappear for quite a long time while all the current mayhem is happening

> was forced to deal with a Great Ape (a member of a species responsible for his own kind's extinction) being taken off Skull Island and brought into his territory while at the same time Ghidorah's telepathic signal had suddenly come back, then getting beat to within an inch of his life by a technologically superior machine *specifically* designed to kill him

> has to deal with the other titans constantly usurping his power while he tries to keep the peace by any means necessary with Scylla being the last straw

> detects the return of even more Great Apes awakening a dangerous power all the way from the Hollow Earth and is forced to prepare himself by stockpiling on energy and Tiamat wasn't giving up her stash without a fight

> Kong suddenly returning to the surface world, while Godzilla is preparing for a Great Ape invasion, and Godzilla has no context about Kong's intentions or if he has anything to do with the signals coming from the Hollow Earth

So yeah, I don't think I can really blame him for acting so vicious in GxK. Dude's had a very stressful time in such a relatively short timescale, as is clear by him *always* just trying to get back to sleep any chance he gets. We all saw the whole "tired old man" vibe he had back in 2014, and while he's become more action-oriented since then he is ultimately just desperate for a much-needed break he just can't get. And given Skar King and his previous actions, it's understandable he doesn't trust Kong right away. He takes the threat the Great Apes pose *very seriously*, and he has no idea if Kong had anything to do with it. He got a threatening signal from them from the Hollow Earth and suddenly one of them comes out of the Hollow Earth and directly challenges him? What else was he going to assume?

At the very least, he's open to some reasonable talking-to from Mothra. After she arrives to clear things up, he never again after shows any hostility to Kong because "hey, if Mothra trusts him, then I have every reason to do so as well, even if I personally don't like him."

And maybe he's finally calmed down because he's just glad to see her again. :3

Now this makes perfect sense because if maintaining balance is basically his job, he's going through the equivalent of the most draining and stressful full-time week at work imaginable with barely a moment to breathe. I've had to work the entire Christmas weekend at my job, and if that happened to me again I'd be just as pissed as Godzilla was.

[sid471]

Ellie Disventure Camp also needs a time out 😶

Ellie fans, I’m sorry, no I’m not, but I’m coming for your girl. But let me start by saying, I LOVE a villain. Especially a bad ass female villain. That’s why I like Fiore and Riya. But Ellie… is not bad ass. She’s just plain petty 😶 and, listen, petty villains have their place in my heart too. But Ellie is not just petty but also spiteful. For no reason .-. And yeah, yeah, I know she needs money, she’s relatable, you would do the same for a million dollars, blah blah shut it >_> Now, let’s begin with Jake ☺️

Now, imma just say, I love Jake, I’ve been team Jake since season 1, but I’m not gonna deny that Jake is annoying. He is sometimes 🤷🏻‍♂️ but he does not deserve the fuckin… psychological torture by Ellie ._. Y’all love to say JAKE is petty and obsessive but ELLIE is the one who’s pissy at Jake for being, RIGHTFULLY, upset for ruining his relationship 😶 and it looks to me like she’s been like that… the whole time? .-. Last episode, episode 6, She made Tom and Aiden kiss for NO reason other than to fuck with Jake ._. Like, she says that verbatim 😶 Her exact words are “I suggested the idea of the kiss, but the reasoning we just made up. This might be evil, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to see Jake lose his mind again. Hey, with no tv out here, it’s the next best thing.” Like, girl! This is… just ridiculous ._. What did Jake do to you? Rightfully get angry at you for betraying his trust and completely ruining his relationship? Not even Season One Grett would stoop this low 😶

And THEN, in episode 7, the latest episode so spoilers sorry, she again uses Tom and Aiden just to fuck with Jake .-. Granted, this one gets half of a pass because it WAS an actual game move and it worked out 🤷🏻‍♂️ But was it necessary? Mm. Debatable. Speaking of unnecessary. Let’s talk Tom 😊

Ellie dislikes Tom. For what reason? I couldn’t tell ya 😶 SHE fucked HIM over, SHE trash talked HIM on national TV. Not the other way around .-. Why is SHE mad at HIM ._. And why is she surprised that Tom is generous? He was a great guy, all things considered, in season 1 .-. Know what it smells like to me? ✨Projection✨. SHE’S gonna use the money for self fulfilling reasons, so of course everyone else is too 🤷🏻‍♀️ I think Ellie can dish it but she can’t take it, know what I mean? She can trash talk Jake, Tom, Miriam, AND Alec and that’s fine, she needed the money 🤷🏻‍♀️, but if any of those people are angry at her for the things she said? All hell breaks loose 😶 You can dislike Riya, but at least she owns her mess 😊 She knows she’s a villain and she owns it. She doesn’t do Villain Things, then try to revert back to her early season 2 self, no, Riya owns her shit.

Now, let’s talk about Gabellie. They’re very cute :3 I like them together, they’re sweet. However… Ellie, Gabby is your ONLY friend and only true ally. She HAS Tess… but like she also doesn’t, Tess could be swayed by Aiden, I feel, and especially could be swayed by Ally if they both make the merge. Ellie’s only guaranteed number is Gabby right now. So, what does Ellie do for her only ally, and, y’know, her girlfriend? Lie to her 😶 Now, listen, I understand lying to Tess, Aiden, and Tom about the villain alliance. That’s just smart gameplay 🤷🏻‍♂️ But lying to Gabby? No .-. Pull her to the side and tell her the truth 😶 Show that you trust her >_> because it’s very clear that Gabby adores Ellie with all of her heart, she wouldn’t have said a word 😊 but no 😶 Ellie lied to her. And now Gabby knows Ellie lied to her. And now Gabby could very well turn on Ellie because if she lied about the villain alliance, what else could she lie to her about ya know?

In conclusion: Ellie is a try hard villain 😶 She wants to be Fiore, Season 1 Grett, and Riya so bad and it’s embarrassing 😊

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

WIP WHENEVER/WIP LAST LINE

I've been tagged by a fair few people over the course of the last few weeks, and I have barely had anything to share in return, or at least nothing I thought was worthwhile. Despite my burnout, the brain still likes to write from time to time, so, have some Price POV from chapter 11 of Evening of Score and him being the stubborn asshole he is <3

November 1, 2019 - Somewhere near the Russian border

It’s the silence that killed him. So used to having her at his side, the angel on his shoulder who was never more than a phone call away when he needed her, and now it was all dead air. He didn’t expect that, hadn’t planned for that reaction. After two years and multiple missions worked together, apparently Rory could still offer him some surprises.

Price sat squashed behind the wheel of a Russian squad car and even the taste of a cigar brought little comfort. The tobacco tart, bitter on his tongue. All he could taste was the ash, the burnt cinders stinging the roof of his mouth.

Couldn’t be guilt, never.

His eyes narrowed as he focused on the stretch of yellow lines on the road, the headlights glowing out in the night along the empty stretch of asphalt. A million stormy thoughts gusting through his head, and not a single one showed in his indecipherable stare like he was the bloody sphinx.

He always figured if there was anyone that could understand, who would see why he did the things he had to do it was her. She understood what was necessary, what was required, she never questioned the motives. She was a damn fine soldier because of that. He got why Garrick would question him, he hadn’t seen the darker side of their world, but Rory? Well, she knew damn well the kind of shit they had to pull – her tac vest pocket on the left side carried the tools to do it too – and her acting as if she had the right to take some moral high ground with him made his teeth grit together, grind.

His cigar burned in the dark, glowing in his eyes, reflecting the fire in his belly as smoke curled from his lips and escaped through the crack in the window while Garrick sat quietly in the backseat – he could probably sense the tension flooding off him in waves right now, but Price didn’t much care; he could blame it on the mission, on Hadir, on Barkov. He had no other option but to stew in the quiet when he wasn’t able to rip a strip off someone, he certainly wasn’t going to debate himself on what he’d done, not when he knew he was right. It had to be done. And, as always, he was the only one capable of it. It’s why he was called into every God forsaken corner of the planet to deal with the filth that liked to prey on others in the dark. He’d had to become this way, no one else would… no one else could. Just him.

Flexing his shoulders against the seat, he leaned his head back against the rest, letting out a heavy breath, a low growl he could blame on the smoke in his lungs as his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, stretching and squeezing against it, knuckles tightening until they were near white as the material squeaked under his grip. Wouldn’t know what to say to her even if she was here, he thought. She’d want him to make things right, he knew he had no reason to. Eventually she’d come around or he’d cut her a little slack the way he always did when that pretty little scowl of hers crossed her face and made her lips pout. He hated seeing her angry, it ached something fierce seeing that flash of contempt in her eyes instead. The coldness towards him was never her style, Rory always fought back, she argued – same as he did. Pushing each other until that damn smirk of hers would curl her lips knowing she’d won and he fucking loved her for it.

Whatever this was, it was fucking unbearable.

But the personal would have to wait, pushed back into the recesses of his head until later. He’d spent too much time thinking about it already. The mission came first, it was paramount. Lives depended on him, on the next steps he took. All out war was in the balance… didn’t stop him from picturing her walking away from him though. Didn’t stop him from wanting to kiss her with so much force the next time he saw her that she forgot what she was even angry about.

That didn’t stop the corner of his mouth from curling up just the slightest bit – a secret kept only for himself.

tagging: @imogenkol @chadillacboseman @efingart @grimmylover7 @alypink

@imagoddamnonionmason @writeforfandoms @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @theelderhazelnut

@harmonyowl @g0dspeeed @simplegenius042 @voidika @elligatorrex

@strangefable @neonshrike @direwombat @la-grosse-patate @josephseedismyfather

@statichvm @clicheantagonist @tommyarashikage @aceghosts @raresvtm

@cloudofbutterflies92 @justasmolbard @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa

@finding-comfort-in-rain @confidentandgood

[blushblushbear]

How would the kitsune boys receive comfort?

so I'm gonna add give as well as receive for completions sake

Aki

Receiving;

he'd def appreciate a joke

also cuddles

and maybe a kiss if you could spare it

he wants to vent but he probably won't do so until you ask what's on his mind

then he leans on your shoulder and vents his woes

hold his hand or rub his shoulder, he feels very comforted by it

also encouragement is always appreciated

he's the youngest and he lost 200 years to a curse, he's got a lot of self confidence worries

give him lots of love and affection and he won't be able to help but smile

he has a hard time staying sad around you honestly

Giving;

will always open with a joke or trick

his knee-jerk reaction is always to try and get you to laugh

he will always ask what's wrong and what he can do for you

if you need to vent he holds you close and listens as you vent your worries

gives you lots of cuddles and offers help however he can

tells you how wonderful you are and how lucky he is to have you and how whatever you go through you'll go through it together with him

'my poor bunny' *holds tight and nuzzles*

Haru

Receiving;

*eyebrow wiggle???*

*eyebrow wiggle????????*

*EYEBROW WIGGLE????????????*

but now seriously, when he's stressed he either does one of two things

he either sits there stewing while trying not to stew, being in full denial that there's even a problem at all and that it's bothering him

or he walks up to you and drapes himself over you, clinging and whining and demanding attention and affection immediately

'for healing purposes'

either way you are going to have to dig a bit before he'll finally fess up to what's bothering him

he's very bad at processing this kind of stuff and would rather avoid thinking or talking about it (a bad habit you're trying to break him of, at least around you)

he might even deny there's anything wrong

'oh well, if there's nothing wrong/oh well if you're sure you're fine--- *gets up and starts to leave*'

'NO WAIT, *grabs your arm/sleeve* okay... maybe there's something....'

also another Kistune who likes to be held or touched while venting

may lay his head on your shoulder, or in your lap, or on top of your head while you hold each other

or hold his hand and run circles on his palm with your thumb

honestly just touch him, he needs to comfort

after venting he likes to maybe talk it out

well okay

he doesn't LIKE to nesscerially

but it always helps

and being held more and more always helps

he actually feels safe and comfortable and open and at peace

also if you want to reward his openness since it's always such a struggle for him to do---

he wouldn't say no to more affectionate comforting

a head pat or a kiss or two or three or 5 million

maybe a squeeze on the ass

or let him squeeze yours

the world is your oyster!

*eye brow wiggle* ;3

Giving;

*EYEBROW WIGGLE*

okay but no seriously once he realizes something's actually wrong he goes protective detective boyfriend mode

what happened??

are you hurt??

who said what???

POINT FINGERS AND HE'LL HANDLE IT, NO ONE PUTS /HIS/ BABY IN A CORNER

once you tell him it's not necessary he leans in and holds your hand and looks you dead in the eyes

'what can I do for you? name it, and it's yours.' and kisses your hand

then anything you ask he will do

especially if you ask for affection

he was planning to do that already even if things were going fine!

he's a good affection machine

also a love machine in general

if you're interested

;3

Fuyu

Receiving;

another member of the I don't like to vent my worries without being asked club

I think he goes back and forth between hiding his troubles well and not hiding them well at all

depends on the troubles, depends on who he's around

he NEVER hides them from you

though he might wait for you to bring it up first

depending on the subject he might even hit you with a 'I don't wish to worry you love....'

but then he feels a hand on his, and a head on his shoulder and looks over to the most beautiful eyes ever looking up at him in a worried expression and he can't help but confess

he holds your hand tight as you sit there beside him, his rock

I think at the end of his venting he's leaning on you as well

just a big sad puppy of a man

more kisses and nuzzles and maybe a cuddle or two

and if you were to let him rest his weary brow on your lap

or maybe play with his hair

or do both at once

he would not refuse you

Giving;

Another member of the protective boyfriend squad when he notices you are upset

he's actually maybe too dramatic about it

and a little too quick to blame others oops

holds you close as he assures you he is here for whatever you need

once you have vented your woes he takes your hands and vows to do anything in his powers to assist you

don't be surprised if you find him later surrounded by flowers and ready to do a dramatic reading of a new poem he's written just for you

like I said

dramatic

but he's also supportive so

yey!

[powderblueblood]

STEVE HARRINGTON X MILLION DOLLAR MAN !!!!

( idk if that’s what you meant 😭 pls delete if it’s not <3 )

send me 🎵+ character name and i’ll write a lil blurb inspired by a song from their playlist (you can also request songs and i will do my level best. god is a dj and i'm god)

▶ MILLION DOLLAR MAN - LANA DEL REY

you've got the world, but baby at what price? or how falling in love with notorious conman steve harrington began your career as a fence of stolen jewelry.

an: @stveharringtn cherry how the fuck did you know that i've been sitting on a conman!steve au for what feels like a hundred thousand years. PERFECT SONG PERFECT CHOICE lets begin i hope you like it

warnings: my blatant obsession with the oceans eleven cinematic universe and pathological need to create a heist au out of EVERYTHING. and CUSSING IS IN THIS TOO.

word count: 2.5k

MIAMI BEACH, 1990

“Whatever happened to a good old-fashioned safe?”

“I don’t trust a safe. I don’t trust me, I don’t trust you, and I most definitely don’t trust a safe.”

Dustin Henderson dangerously toes the edge of squawking, but he doesn’t know any better. At this point in his career as a thief, he doesn’t understand that when Steve Harrington says he doesn’t trust anyone, it’s not dismissive. It’s simply a missive, a fact of life. Everyone’s got knives, everyone’s got backs. Stands to reason that someone’s going to thrust and someone is going to get stabbed. 

Steve likes to take all the necessary precautions. 

He doesn’t trust anyone. 

“But her you trust?” 

Robin Buckley’s tone is hard. Robin Buckley is the only person that Steve could imagine himself trusting, and even so, they keep each other at an imperceptible arm’s length. To the outside world, they’re bosom buddies, best friends eating dirt together. But they both understand the business that they’re in. 

They keep their knives sharp.

They take all the necessary precautions. 

So why the fuck is Steve bringing an outsider into the ring. 

“I never said that.” Steve grabs a coaster and pointedly puts it where Robin might next aim her beer bottle, dripping with incriminating condensation. All over his agarwood coffee table. 

“It was inferred.” Robin pointedly puts the bottle down– to the far left of the coaster. Fuck you.

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.” Fuck you right back. 

“I know why he’s not using a safe,” Eddie Munson crows from the near background, wiping ash from his face. Eddie Munson, munitions expert. Eddie Munson, expert in blowing up any conversation within a three mile radius. Detonation test, by the way, that’s why his face is covered in shit. 

Steve holds out a hand–stop right where you are–before he can reach the agarwood table. 

“Because he’s–” and proceeds to make that finger in hole gesture that doesn’t crack a single smile in the room. Not even Dustin Henderson’s, mostly due to the fact that it’s happening behind his head. “Because he’s fucking her.” 

“It’s not that,” Steve and Robin say in unison, with Steve’s eyes narrowed on Eddie and Robin’s eyes trained unmercifully on Steve. 

It’s not that. They’re right. It’s worse. 

-

There’s something psychosexual about the game of tennis. The grunting, the tiny little skirts, the whacking of balls. The amount of money rich people love to spend on it. There’s something evil here, and you’ve committed yourself to a summer of trying to figure it out. 

Well, half-committed. Your real commitment is making enough tips to make a dent in your looming student loans. Post-graduation, a friend had given you a hot tip about private tennis clubs in Miami. They use hundos like napkins there, girl. Go get your piece. 

Your nana lives in Miami. Lived. She’s dead now, three months. You’re living in her condo now– technically in a seniors complex, assisted living type of thing, but it’s okay. It’s quiet. The people chat and force you to play bocce ball sometimes, the only sport you understand. 

Tennis, you don’t understand, other than the fact that these people have more money than they know what to do with and they’re all too repressed to grunt in the privacy of their own homes. 

After a time or two taking drink orders and bringing their rackets for in-house repair, they all blend into the same amorphous blob– the white outfits-on-white people effect does not help. They tip you in enormous digits, confident that you’ll remember them and treat them right, but you don’t have that skill. Some of your co-workers do, but you don’t. 

So, you notice when someone stands out. 

You smell him before you see him, and you know how that sounds, but bare with– 

The thickening, insistent incense smell of patchouli. Rainwater. Dust. Lemon.

When you turn from your place behind the bar, fetching your eighth double vodka soda in what seems like as many minutes for another bleach-blond man in his mid-forties, he’s leaning with one elegant elbow propped on the marble top. Sunglasses push over a shock of brown hair, streaked with blonde from the Florida sunshine. 

“Macallan, buddy. Up.” But he’s not talking to you. He’s talking to the bartender, Trent, the picture of incompetence. Trent nods to him, smiling broadly, but that flattens into a hard line as he turns toward the bar. 

This guy politely turns his head, eyes glossing right over you. But you are just staring a bullet hole right though him, and you can’t help it. He’s magnetic. He’s dressed in a light blue linen suit, a far cry from the tennis uniforms or the hollering Versace shirts every other man in the place seems to be wearing. The slope of his shoulders suggest something… provincial. 

He’s not a city boy– man. This is a man. 

You hear a clatter to your immediate right and see Trent pouring a finger of Chivas into a tumbler. 

“Oh, Trent, that’s not–” 

He passes it off to the linen gentleman, this Miami cowboy, with a serene smile. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a Chivas and a Macallan, but you would. 

And you bet he would too. 

He departs in a cloud of the same heavenly scent he’d arrived in, heading courtside to watch trust fund kids fumble over backhands. 

“Trent,” you say, reaching for the correct bottle and a fresh tumbler. “Meet Macallan. For next time, okay?” 

The blond kid just shrugs at you. “All that shit tastes the same to me.” 

To you. 

You linger near the arm of his chair before speaking, suddenly able to hear your pulse in your ears. Up close, you can see moles dotting the hand holding the errant glass of Chivas. A big hand too, it seems to dwarf the crystal. 

“Excuse me,” you say, as steady as you can manage. It’s not very steady. You wish you would’ve thought to check your makeup before you made a beeline out here, but time, you couldn’t help but feel, was of the essence. 

He looks up at you over his sunglasses and you think your knees might buckle. 

Eyes like a dark wood. Inviting you in. The kind of eyes that don’t look through you. 

Christ, people had been looking through you all summer, but it didn’t matter now. 

“Is that the Macallan?” he mumbles conspiratorially. 

You just– nod, uniform-required ponytail bouncing. 

“I’ll trade you,” he says, about to pass off the glass of Chivas, but then he pauses. Takes you in, surveying you in a way that makes you blush, “if you can finish this one with me.” 

“Um…”

“Is that allowed?” he asks, “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Trouble be damned. The hell with trouble. Not only is your reputation as a little worker bee here untarnished, you can’t not sit with him. 

“I’m due a break, actually.”

“So I’ll trade you. Sit down, get comfortable. Give me the scoop on these tennis brats.”

He leans in to take the glass of Macallan from you, to pass off the glass of Chivas, and he brushes your hand. You experience the full entirely of a cliche, feeling electricity thrum under your skin– but then he passes a fingertip over the ring finger of your right hand. 

“That’s a pretty piece,” he hums, “Princess, right?”

For a second, you falter. Princess? Me? But it’s the ring he’s referring to– the yellow diamond engagement ring that once belonged to your nana. 

“Close!” you say, twisting the band on your finger in an act of self-consciousness. “Carré cut. Less pricey than a princess.”

“But just as pretty.” 

“And more rare, actually.” 

“Huh,” he says, and you smooth your skirt out with one hand, taking the seat nearest him. Enveloping yourself in the cloud of him. “Rarer than a princess.” 

From the court, a headband-wearing pre-teen in dazzling whites hollers fuck you, Mommy! Fuck you and your fucking bullshit topspin! I fucking hate this place!

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-

NEW YORK CITY, 1995

The car door slams behind Dustin Henderson, raindrops rolling from the brim of his baseball cap. It’s late November and a freezing rain has descended upon the Diamond District. 

Steve had at least hoped he might see sunshine when he got out of the joint. 

From the wheel, he cranes his neck to the back seat where Dustin sits, wiping the dripping water from the hat’s beak. His Thinking Cap. He’s had that thing since he was a kid and has somehow managed to keep it in immaculate condition. Dustin loves details. Dustin also loves risk. Which is why he’s the only man for this recon job. 

“Tell me,” Steve says, tone as level as he can possibly keep it. 

“She is way hotter than I remember.”

“Dustin.”

“Miami always makes people less hot. I think it’s the heat,” the kid chuckles, an obvious attempt at lightening a tense mood. See, they weren’t supposed to be here. They weren’t supposed to be looking for you. Robin hadn’t said don’t go looking for her, but that more or less should have been in the terms of Steve’s release from Sing Sing. 

“Dustin.” 

“She’s in there, just like you said she’d be in there. It’s a white room and it’s got every kind of goddamn sparkler you could think of. Three layers of security. Three. What kind of jewelry store you ever been to that’s got three layers of security?” 

A detail like that would make a less accomplished thief sweat. But Dustin and Steve share a knowing smile. 

“A jewelry store selling stolen jewelry.” 

“Exactly,” Dustin nods. “I thought she’d be front-of-house, but she’s got her own office. Tucked away in the corner. Appointment only.” 

“Any availability?”

The younger man smirks. “For me or for you?” 

-

Buddy’s is the last place in midtown you can get a decent drink and not be surrounded by throngs of yuppies. 

You know this, because you tend to date the yuppies in the throng. 

This is the one place that seems to be universally avoided by the trader set– it’s too dark and wooden in here, no brutalist architecture to make them feel at home while they rail lines of coke off their girlfriend’s compact mirrors. 

At Buddy’s, there’s a pianist that’s been propping up the corner for the last half century, minimum. A carpet that’s never been shampooed spreads across the floor and the mahogany is dented in all the places the light doesn’t hit. You can smoke indoors. Everything Happens to Me by Chet Baker will play, and everything feels like it’s going to be alright. At least until happy hour ends. 

You have a regular seat by the bar, a vantage point for people-watching. A gin martini, hold the vermouth, sits waiting for you by the time you arrive. On an average Thursday, you spend a couple of hours drinking three of these in an act of decompression from the violent fluorescent lighting of your workplace. From peering through a looking glass, examining the way light refracts through gemstones. 

From moving cargo that isn’t yours to move. 

This Thursday has been no different. 

You drag a finger along the condensation of your martini glass, it’s perfect conical shape a welcome weight in your hand. 

Your hair is piled up on top of your head, and you wear your reading glasses, and though you are beautiful, no one bothers you. Nothing bothers you. 

Until you hear a sound you haven’t heard in years. 

Tapping, against the bartop. One, one. Two, two. Three, three. Nerves. It was the only time you could ever tell that he was nervous. 

“Macallan, buddy. Up.”

Fucker.

-

He knew you by every single detail about you, let’s get that straight. 

He is entirely sure that in a room of a thousand clones of you, he would be able to pick out the real one, just from your minute sigh. From the way your one shoulder always slopes. From curl at the base of your neck. 

From the way you play with your grandmother’s Carré cut diamond, still sitting pretty on your right hand. 

He positions himself a number of seats away from you, from the seat that he’s been watching you sit at for a couple of nights in a row now. He does not approach you directly. 

Partially to see if you’ll still remember him. 

Steve is still vain, in his ways. He wants a spotlight shone on him. 

He only ever remembers the warmth of yours. 

He orders the same drink he ordered that day you met at the tennis club, the same way. He even hopes the bartender will mistake the Chivas for the Macallan and you’ll have to climb over the bar and charmingly correct him. But Antoine, as he’s heard you call him, has been behind this bar longer than Saint Peter at the pearly gates, so there’s no fear of that. 

You don’t react right away, and he doesn’t expect you to. He savors it, in fact, the opportunity to slyly watch you. Even if you’re seething. Even if you’re seething, you’re seething like a goddess might seethe. Horrifying and beautiful, all at once. The definite end of him. 

Then, the lack of attention you’re showing him stretches on a beat too long. 

“Excuse me,” he says from his spots a couple of seats down, “Can you do me a favor?”

You don’t respond. This doesn’t stop him. Never has.

“You mind tasting this for me?” Steve pushes the glass toward you, sending it sliding down the bar. You catch it with your right hand, yellow diamond catching in the light. A cut like that has never sparkled until you’ve worn it. “You think that’s Macallan or Chivas? Be honest.”

Steve’s fingers flex unconsciously as you lift the glass. Tilt it toward your lips. Still making no eye contact. But you don’t sip. 

“I think you should be in prison,” you say into the crystal tumbler and place it back on the bar top. “Why the fuck are you not in prison.” 

Steve closes the space between you, taking in that powdery perfume you’re still wearing after all this time. Candied violets. He settles into the beside you and props his palm under his chin. 

“Why are you selling stolen jewelry.”

He sees you tense for a brief moment, then release. Like you knew he’d say that, like you should have seen that coming. Because you know him, and you always see him coming. Other than Robin, you’re the only one that ever has. 

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

“So that when some bastard in a bad linen suit asks me to hold on to some stolen jewelry, I’ll at least know how much it’s worth.”

A beat. You stare Steve down with such naked disdain that his heart twists in his chest. You hate him, and he sees that, and with all the evidence stacked up against you, he should hate you too. But that wasn’t what bit him.

“That suit wasn’t bad, Princess.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

And finally we’ve got the retolds with a twist! The ones where you’re utilizing your epic talent to revisit all the biggest Buddie moments from a slightly different angle that breathes new life into them! It’s so fun!!!

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖 (they’re friends! Buck’s bi! They’re gonna fall in love! How do I always forget about them dealing with covid before it comes back up in these stories?! Lol you’d think that one would be a bit harder to forget considering i actually went through it too but 🤷🏻‍♀️)

��🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨 (I’d apologize for how many emojis that is except YOU JUST SHOT EDDIE! WHILE HE AND BUCK ARE ENGAGED! Like was that really necessary? (yes it was i love the angst) Can’t wait to see how this plays out especially with them already having the will and “you’re not expendable” conversations! Perhaps they’ll be replaced with an elopement conversation….)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (i really love your shannon characterization! She’s such a real person and i love her! Also i just realized we’re approaching tsunami territory!!!! I have no idea how that’s gonna go down here but I can’t wait to find out!)

I hope you have fun answering all these and HAPPY PREMIERE WEEK!!! 22 million killer bees incoming!!!

- PCA <3

AWW thank you! You're literally always so kind and I want you to know it genuinely does mean a lot and is very validating.

48 for 📖 (omg I know covid is always SO ANNOYING to write around? I gotta do an au where it doesn't exist sometime):

---

His eyes begin to sting. Fuck. Fuck. He’s crying. 

“I’m just really glad you’re okay,” he blubbers. “I don’t know what I would’ve…”

He shuts his mouth. Stops himself. He barely manages to hold it all back. But he can’t finish his sentence. It feels far too much like a confession. 

I don’t know what I would have done if you died, because I love you, and I need you to always be okay. 

Eddie’s eyes widen a little. Even in their tired, droopy state, the realization in them is clear. He sees it. Fuck. Buck is screwed. 

“Uh,” Buck leans back in his chair, putting space between himself and Eddie. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Eddie rasps. “Buck…”

Buck stands. “Uh… I’m going to call Carla. Make sure our plans for tomorrow are still… Yeah.”

“Buck, wait a sec,” Eddie tries.

But Buck is already leaving. His hands are shaking. He doesn’t think he wants to be alone in the room with Eddie again. 

xx.

Buck makes sure Carla is with Chris when Ana brings Eddie home from the hospital. He leaves beforehand. Goes right to Maddie’s. He can’t be around Eddie right now. He doesn’t trust himself not to completely spill over. He feels badly about it, but it’s better this way. And he can’t burden Eddie with any of this right now. Not with the recovery ahead of him.

“Oh, Evan,” Maddie says when he tells her everything. “It’s okay that you got emotional. You care about him. He knows that. It doesn’t mean he knows how you feel outside of that.”

“I don’t think I can pretend anymore, Maddie,” Buck sniffs. “He almost died. He almost died and his girlfriend thanked me for stopping by. You were right. I need space.”

---

96 for 🚨( Lol two snippets of shooting angst in a row I'm so sorry):

---

Basically, Buck does his best to keep things together in this looping, daily hell. He must be doing an okay job of it, he thinks. No one says he’s falling apart, even if he feels like he is. 

iv.

Eddie’s first thought when he can think again, is that death feels heavy and sluggish. Sore. Not at all what’s promised. It takes him longer, and the slowly regained ability to hear the beeping of hospital machinery, to realize that he isn’t dead at all.

He survived.

Somehow, he survived. 

Well, not somehow. He doesn’t remember a lot, but he remembers one thing. Buck. It’s not by chance that he survived being shot down in the street. It was Buck. Buck saved him. Which makes Eddie realize. Oh god. Buck had to save him. After everything that’s happened to him…

Eddie tries to open his eyes. It’s not easy. Each eyelid feels weighed down and the lights are blinding. He makes a hoarse, uncomfortable noise in the back of his throat. The most he can manage at the moment.

When his vision clears - at least as much as his dry, stinging eyes will allow - he tilts his head a little to the side. The motion sends a ripple of pain across his right arm, concentrated most acutely in his shoulder. He ignores it, trying to get his bearings. 

Beside the bed Eddie is stuck in, is Buck. He’s slumped back in a stiff plastic hospital chair, fast asleep. His neck is craned at an awkward angle, head leaning against his shoulder. There’s a thin blanket over his torso, like someone gently placed it there, afraid to disturb him. A nurse, maybe? 

Buck’s forearm, opposite to the shoulder he’s leaning on, is outstretched onto Eddie’s bed. His hand rests inches away from Eddie’s. Like maybe he was holding it when he drifted off. With his uninjured arm,, Eddie stretches his wrist and fingers to brush against Buck’s hand. It hurts. It’s laborious. But he manages contact. 

Buck jolts a little, eyes flying open like he’s been shocked. Eddie watches, eyelids drooping a little, as the realization smacks Buck, full-force. 

“E-Eddie?” Buck stammers. 

“Hi,” Eddie manages to rasp. 

“Oh my god,” Buck cries, squeezing Eddie’s hand so much it hurts. “Oh god, Eddie. You’re awake.”

“Hardly,” Eddie mumbles.

Buck doubles forward, crying and pressing his lips to Eddie’s hand. 

“You’re awake. You’re really awake.”

“Didn’t die,” Eddie says. 

“No,” Buck runs a hand through his hair. Kisses his forehead. “You didn’t die. You’re alive. You’re going to be just fine.”

“M’okay?”

“You’re okay,” Buck promises. “You held on. You fought like hell.”

Eddie tries to smile. He’s not sure if he manages it.

“Couldn’t stand you up… For the wedding…”

Buck laughs a little wetly. “I love you so much. Fuck.”

“Saved me,” Eddie mutters, eyes fluttering shut. 

“I sure tried,” Buck whispers. 

Eddie means to tell Buck how much he loves him, too. How thankful he is. But his jaw feels too heavy. The effort feels like too much. 

“You go back to sleep,” Buck says softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up again.”

So Eddie lets himself be carried back under, knowing that he’s safe. Buck has him. He always has. 

🔹🔹🔹

When he wakes up again, it isn’t Buck he sees, but his father. Which throws him for a loop. For a moment, he’s sure he’s dreaming. 

“Dad?” He asks groggily.

“Hey-hey! Son! You’re awake!” Ramon exclaims happily. His eyes look a little wet.

“DAD?” He hears the sweetest voice in the world from the other side of the room. 

“Chris?” Eddie asks. He shifts to sit up, but winces in pain.

“One second,” Ramon says, reaching for the hospital bed’s controls. “Let me fix this.”

---

30 for 🔼 (THANK YOU! I'm trying to do her justice. And yesssss tsunami on the horizon):

---

Her hair is half brushed, her shirt might be on inside out, and she is nowhere near ready to leave. She’s going to make them late, for sure. 

“Hi,” she exhales when she throws the door open. “Sorry. Running behind.”

“Hey, no worries,” Buck says, shrugging. 

“How’s um…” Shannon blanks. God, her brain is all over the place today. “Your health?” 

Buck snorts. “The blood thinners? Terrible. Otherwise, I’m fine. That’s what’s frustrating.”

She frowns sympathetically. “Sorry, Buck. That really sucks.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs again. But this one feels more forced than the first. “Hey, where’s Chris?”

“Brushing his teeth,” Shannon says. And yeah, she’s aware of the time. “Like I said, we are running behind.” 

“Seriously, it’s fine,” Buck insists. “I’m just the chauffeur.”

Shannon smiles gratefully. “Thank you. Give me ten minutes?”

He nods. “Sounds good.”

[chirpsythismorning]

I think what really puts into perspective the likelihood of ST5 premiering in 2025 (I’m gonna predict March 21st for fun), is that a year from now is just barely Summer 2024, and yet as of now, they have not even started filming.

Are fans really expecting them to have season 5 filmed, fully prepped with marketing and promo ready, with everything ready to be released within one year from now (roughly speaking, give or take a couple months)?

In all honesty it's very much the norm for Stranger Things' to have promo leading up to an upcoming season last for months. And I'm not talking like 3-5 months I'm talking a year+.

This isn't like s1 where they put out a trailer and a release date and some low budget marketing roll out on social media, which is something they do for every new Netflix show. This is a $35 million + budget per episode series and thats just to budget for the literal episodes... There are dozens of partnerships they have going on with merchandise and things like that which are discussed and planned for months/years. There are music rights negotiations which go on for months upon years. Shit, post-production has the capacity to take, at the very least half of the time it takes to film, and in some cases as much time or even more. This shit takes time!!!

The build up to a new season is so huge, that each month leading up to it, there are different things dropping, creating the hype that guarantees millions of fans engagement for a long time.

Like 1 year up to the 6 months before the release, promo starts heating up officially. The main accounts for the show will start posting stuff, initially it'll be cryptic using old footage to kind of recap the characters and get us refreshed on where we left off. This time could have some really awesome surprises, but it's mostly casual. If we're lucky we can count on Atlanta filming paparazzi bc those people are insufferable...

6 months up to the one month mark is when it starts to get more real. At this time we're likely to get an episode list announcement, along with sneak peeks and teasers that are quite short, being that they're still likely in the editing process when they are releasing these so it's very much in part them trying to tide us over and keep us interested.

The final 3 months leading up to it is when it gets REAL real. This is at the latest when we'll get a release date announcement, but that's a worst case scenario. I feel like it took so long for them to announce s4, and not until like Feb 2022 bc they wanted to be certain certain. And that could apply to s5 as well. The state of the world isn't like awesome I would say... Look what happened last time? Like it sucks to be the person to say that but I think also considering delays in general, for any reason are a possibility, is also what contributes to my open mindedness about an early 2025 release.

And so based on what we should be expecting for marketing, that means that assuming s5 would somehow premiere in summer 2024, means we are already close to the one year mark, which means promo should be ramping up right now, with literal content to share? And yet we have nothing filmed...?

A lot of people have this idea that s5 is going to take as much time to film as s1 took, which is just not the case. Not saying it will take as long as s4 took, however it's still going to take a while. One of the main factors for this is an in demand cast with conflicting schedules. In a perfect world, everyone would be available all the time throughout the entire production run. Instead what you have is certain actors not available at this time, and so you have to overlap those that need scenes together and schedule according to all of that. And so even if it wouldn't take more than 7 months to film literally, adding another 4+ months might be necessary to accommodate everyones schedules so that they can have these A/B list actors be able to film scenes together.

And then there’s editing and VFX to account for, happening during filming yes, but also with them needing months to focus on AFTER filming is complete. S5 is arguably going to have more VFX than any other season, as most of the season is expected to be surrounded by UD conditions and with the final battle being pretty epic with a 3 headed dragon potentially. Editing is more likely to be 7+ months post filming AT LEAST, vs. like the 4 or less, which is what I think everyone is imagining and telling themselves.

This is also the last season and so they obviously want to focus on the quality, not their ability to churn it out as fast as possible. Rushing for a quick release is just setting themselves up to flop.

The story is over forever after this (excluding spin-off prospects). It would make sense for them to give themselves the wiggle room to make it perfect (the stakes are so fucking high you guys), as opposed to rushing the entire time just to have it release as early as possible.

This also reminds me of what Noah said when asked about s5 premiering in 2024, where he basically just deflected and said that they want to focus on quality… essentially hinting at the fact that it’ll probably not be soon as we’re expecting, but we’re better off for it bc it gives them time to ensure it's the best that it can be and also is just realistic in terms of considering potential unplanned delays.

And then there are the strike implications. While I think the ST production is lucky in that they wouldn't be impacted as much as other productions, that doesn't mean the solidarity won't impact other parts of the production beyond just the writers. This is an industry where people are extremely overworked and underpaid, where a strike could be on the horizon at any moment. And we’re out here telling them hey i know the conditions are horse shit, but I'm gonna need you to step it up and experience even worse conditions bc I need s5 asap... which is just, it’s asking too much if I’m being honest.

Not trying to rain on anyone’s parade here. I know it sucks hearing that it could be another 1 year and 10 months. But lets be serious right now.

All the action that happens in the fandom, building up to the release is arguably just as exciting as the actual premiere and I think we overlook that. Again, once it premieres, it's over. So being so hellbent that it comes as soon as possible, is built on this idea that getting it is the only worthwhile part of this experience, which couldn't be further from the truth. Hiatus and all of the activity that happens during that time is what makes this experience so unique and without it, none of us would be here.

I think realistically, the timeline for s5 production is likely to look something like filming taking place from May 2023-Feb 2024 (giving them AT LEAST 10 months, but if you ask me srs i think it'll take 12...). We should get an announcement post from the official Netflix/ST social media accounts the very day filming starts.

As time passes and they're filming more and more, we will start to get teasers and sneak peaks from the little bit they have filmed from the earlier episodes in the season. Technically they can't spoil that later stuff too much in promotion, so it does work out for us in that sense.

But in all honesty, well planned out and detailed promo is likely to not start getting official until this fall when they’ll actually have at least (hopefully) over half of s5 filmed, and be planning ahead plenty in advance so all of the promo leading up to the release is well thought out.

I won’t rule out Fall 2024. But there are no Friday dates in fall 2024 that ring any bells to me as being the perfect day? Maybe Winter 2024? Or like January/Feb 2025?

The problem is Netflix loves ST for their summers... But summer 2024 is too soon and Summer 2025 is too late imo...

So what it will likely come down to is them trying to be realisitic about their options, and how to ideally get it to match with the setting of the show, which is something they have tried to do with s2-3, but couldn't in s4 (for obvious reasons), and so I definitely see them thinking ahead to try to bring back that approach for s5 if they are able to.

So filming, best case scenario, ends maybe Jan-Feb 2024. If we give them at least 7 months, which is still arguably rushing to me, that lands them in September 2024.

BUT if they were smart they would be realistic and just plan for late 2024/early 2025 so that they don't have to keep delaying... also why they haven't announced a date/year... if it was for certain going to be 2024, they would say it. But they aren't. That alone should tell us they are not willing to make that commitment bc it's not something that can be made when there are so many impromptu factors at play.

I imagine a scenario though honestly, where it takes them a year (12 months to film), so they won't be done until May 2024, which means that they would have until January 2025 to edit with 7 months for that strictly. And that just honestly feels realistic to me to look at instead of hoping that everything just is swift and fast as possible.

Not to mention ST5 2025 just fits.

However, I don't see anything wrong with hoping for late 2024, since as of now I think it is still possible.

But I also think, keeping all of the factors in mind, most notably a potential strike and also them ensuring quality over a speedy release, I think 2025 is something people should also be prepared for as a possibility.

The good news is that we'll know eventually as s5 starts filming and as time goes on.

If filming is complete in 2023 then we could definitely hope for a fall 2024 release. If filming isn't complete officially until early/mid 2024, then pack up your duffel bags bc we're going back to spring break...

[twistedminutia]

A Million and One Minutia: Cartography

The Scarabia students and Gray discuss maps and geography. (Read the previous chapters here: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 and cross posted to AO3 here)

“Gray! You’ve got to try this, okay? You’ll love it!” Kalim scoots even closer to my side, thrusting some sort of meat and vegetable dish wrapped in bread toward me.

“You know, Kalim, I’m okay,” I say. As I gently push the bowl away, my gaze wanders across the Scarabia lounge. Jamil is watching us, gaze as burning as the desert sun that sweeps through the Scarabia dorm’s… zone? Pocket dimension? I’m not clear on exactly how these spaces exist.

“Aw, you’ve barely eaten anything,” Kalim complains, face falling. “Are you sick?” His expression grows alarmed. “Jamil! Where’s the first aid kit?”

“I’m not sick!” I sputter, waving a hasty hand at Jamil, who’s dutifully heaving himself up from his sitting position against a pillar. His gaze sweeps over me assessingly before he slouches back down and stares into the distance. I take the food Kalim is offering, but don’t eat it.

I didn’t want to go to Scarabia. I’m not even sure why I’m here now. It hasn’t been that long since Jamil’s overblot- long enough for him to recover, at least, but not long enough for me to be totally comfortable in the place I was held hostage. But Kalim’s a force of nature when he wants something, and he insisted Grim and I come back for a ‘proper party.’

Reading between the lines, I think the whole thing is supposed to be an apology, both for the ‘held hostage’ thing and the ‘overblot’ thing. In total, I actually think I’ve gotten six apologies from Kalim so far. I barely wanted the first one, several boxes of Scalding Sands sweets, but I accepted them graciously. Kalim apparently took that as an invitation, though, and sent several more gifts my way, including several items of Scalding Sands attire and a small jewelry set that probably costs more than Ramshackle. In theory, I could sell them and pocket the pretty penny they would surely fetch for myself. But the idea of having to look into Kalim’s face when he finds I sold his gifts makes my heart wrench, so now I just have some stupidly expensive items hanging out in my closet.

The party invitation was extended with every gift. I managed to wriggle my way out of it several times, making apologetic eye contact with Jamil, who was always hanging out a few feet behind Kalim, looking like he was sucking on a lemon. Or maybe trying to stab Kalim with his gaze alone.

Unfortunately, I’ve never been super good at turning anyone down. And when Kalim finally brought the full force of his big, sappy eyes to bear, practically clutching at my hands and pleading, well. What was I supposed to do?

Refuse, is the answer. Refuse, because now I’m in the middle of some of the thickest tension I’ve ever felt and one half of the problem seems completely unaware of it. Even Grim seems to have picked up on it, though he’s ignoring it by eating. Alas, my own appetite is gone and I don’t have that luxury.

“Do you want to dance?” Kalim offers, sticking out a hand.

“Oh, I don’t dance,” I say with an awkward half-laugh. This is true- I have the inherent grace of a drunken camel.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone can dance! You just have to move your body to the music! Don’t think about it too much!” Kalim performs some kind of quick dance move involving a lot of kicking and spinning. It’s not something I could ever imitate without falling flat on my ass. When I still don’t move to join him, Kalim gets a thoughtful look.

“I know! Jamil can teach you. He’s great at dancing!” He waves an arm and Jamil gets up once again to walk over.

“Oh, you know, I don’t really think that’s necessary,” I say, but Jamil’s already made the short walk over to us.

“Do you need something, Kalim?” he asks with a put-upon weariness. Kalim barely seems to notice.

“Gray doesn’t know how to dance, and you’re so good, I thought you could teach her!” He beams at Jamil. “You’re always an amazing teacher with me!”

“It’s fine,” I insist. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Jamil sighs, his side-bang-hair-thing swinging and partially obscuring his face. “Do you want to learn how to dance?”

“Um,” I say, looking back and for the between Jamil and Kalim. “Not really.”

Jamil shrugs. “Then you don’t have to.” He seems somewhere between bored and annoyed by the whole situation.

“W-well,” Kalim says, looking a little upset by the turn the situation is taking, “what do you want to do?”

I don’t say anything for a moment, because my honest answer would be ‘leave.’ I don’t like it in Scarabia- the red and gold decorations kind of unsettle me, and I always feel awful for imposing upon Jamil, who clearly doesn’t want me to be here either. But Kalim also seems borderline frantic to apologize- I get the sense he can’t stand when people are upset, but also isn’t very good at understanding why they’re upset, or how to fix it. And if I don’t at least look like I’m having a good time, I think that’s only going to make it worse for him. So, find something that Jamil doesn’t need to put effort into that’ll appease Kalim…

“I’d like to hear about the Scalding Sands!” The words sort of just burst out of me, the first idea I settle upon. But it’s a good one, I think- the best lies are born out of a grain of truth, and I do want to learn more about the different places in Twisted Wonderland. My Heartslabyul friends are more than happy to tell me all about the Queendom of Roses, excepting Cater, and Jack’s spoken about his part of the Shaftlands on occasion. Even Azul and the twins have let little bits about the Coral Sea slip, though I don’t dare ask anything to directly, since they’ll certainly demand recompense for the info. The only other way to learn is through textbooks, and they’re informative, but a bit dry. Nothing like an actual local perspective.

Fortunately, Kalim seems to immediately perk up at the idea. He drops down to sit next to me, legs casually crossed. After a moment, Jamil does the same, slower and more deliberately. “Sure! What do you want to know?” Kalim chirps.

“Whatever you want to tell. It’s not like I’ve ever been there before.”

Kalim tilts his head back, thoughtful. “It’s a really great place! Jamil and I live in the capital city, and it’s got huge markets and beautiful buildings. Our hometown is known for tons of exports, like our silk! You remember I showed you some? The peacock blue?”

I nod. He tried to thrust some at me as another present and Jamil and I had to talk him back out of it. What am I going to do with massive bolts of silks anyway, sew them into incredibly ugly dresses?

“You should come visit some time!” Kalim says, barreling on with enthusiasm. “You could see the markets and meet my family- I’m sure my siblings would be thrilled to meet you.”

“That’s really not necessary,” I say, glancing over at Jamil who has a look of ‘absolutely the fuck not’ on his face. “Er, your siblings sound nice, though.”

“Yeah! I mean, sometimes it’s hard to keep track of them all.” Kalim’s expression slips and he looks a little guilty. “But they’re all really sweet! I try to look out for them as their big brother.” He fixes me with a curious look. “What about your family? Do you have siblings?”

“I- I, uh…” The words die in my throat. What am I supposed to say? Does it count as having siblings, still, if they’re in another world? If I never see them again? If, for all intents and purposes, they’re basically dead?

But if I’m the one in another world, doesn’t that make me the dead one?

“Kalim,” Jamil says, voice surprisingly sharp. “She doesn’t want to talk about that.”

“What? But why-” Kalim’s eyes widen as a look of horror sweeps over his face. “I’m so sorry! I forgot!”

“Don’t, uh. Make a big deal about it,” I mumble. Grim abandons his food to scamper over, standing in front of me almost defensively.

“The Great Grim doesn’t have any siblings,” he huffs indignantly. “They’re overrated.” He moves just close enough for me to run my fingers through his fur like a fuzzy stress ball.

Jamil snorts under his breath, mouth twitching into the slightest hint of a smirk.

“You mentioned having a sister, didn’t you, Jamil?” I say, casting around to get the spotlight off me. Kalim still looks like I told him Santa doesn’t exist. Not that they believe in Santa here anyway.

He narrows his eyes a little, but says, “Yes. Najma. She’s younger than I am. And a pain.”

“Aren’t little sisters always,” I say. My fingers tighten around Grim’s fur and he yelps at me. “Whoops, sorry.” I offer him some of my meat-wrap-thing and he takes it. “So, uh, you guys live in the Land of the Scalding Sands, huh? This place must feel like home to you.” I gesture to the blazing sun and sandy scenery.

“Yeah,” Kalim says, still looking kind of kicked-puppy-esque. “My dad had the dorm renovated when I got in, but it was still like the Scalding Sands before that.”

“That’s because the Scalding Sands is the land from which the Sorcerer of the Sands hailed,” Jamil says. “And as the dorm based off of his spirit, we live in similar conditions. Like Octavinelle’s dorm being underwater, since the Sea Witch was merfolk.”

I nod, though I haven’t quite got a grasp on how the dorms are made. They’re apparently some kind of pocket dimensions, which opens up a whole new can of worms- How do pocket dimensions work? Are they common, or is this something only a famous school would have the resources to do? Is there some way of controlling the climate of the dorm, or even the weather? If this is a pocket dimension, is the sky real? The sun and the moon and stars exist here, and they seem to be in the same position as the ones on campus- are they projections?

“What are you thinking about?” Kalim asks. “You’ve got a really serious look on your face! Like Jamil gets sometimes!”

“Nothing in particular,” I say. Kalim probably won’t know the answers to my questions, and Jamil can get kind of annoyed if you ask something he considers to be a dumb question, and I have no idea whether my questions are dumb or not. “Er, is the Land of the Scalding Sands far from here?”

“Um, I don’t think so!” Kalim says at the exact same time Jamil says, “Pretty far.” They look at each other.

Jamil sighs. “Have you even paid any attention in your geography lessons? The Scalding Sands are about as far away from Sage Island as you can get without venturing out of the known world.”

As he’s speaking, he flicks his magic pen and a map unrolls in front of me. I lean forward, almost dislodging a half-asleep Grim from my lap. He grouses for a moment before leaning over the map as well. “Here we are,” Jamil says, tapping a tiny little island toward the middle portion of the map. I’ve seen the maps a few times in history class, so it’s not entirely unfamiliar to me. I recognize the Queendom of Roses on sight, a small land mass that’s vaguely shaped like a rose itself, with an archipelago next to it. Jamil draws his magic pen down, past the Land of Dawning, away from the Kingdom of Heroes and roughly between the Shaftlands and the Sunset Savannah. He stops roughly southwest of the Sunset Savannah and taps that spot a few times. “The Land of the Scalding Sands is about here.”

“Oh, huh,” Kalim says. “It doesn’t feel that far away when we’re just taking mirror portals!”

“No,” Jamil sighs, long-suffering. “It wouldn’t.”

I study the map for a little longer. Admittedly, history of magic tends to focus on specific locations, so we see more zoomed-in maps than this full one, but now that I’m really focusing on it, sometimes strikes me as odd. “Is this a map of the whole planet?”

“Most of it,” Jamil says. “There are a couple smaller island nations that mapmakers don’t always bother to note, since they so often change hands, and the only Fae land this map takes note of is Briar Valley, though there are other, smaller areas, like Faerieland, with their own culture and rulers. And the Land of Red Dragons isn't on here, either, possibly because it's on the other side of the world.” He rubs his chin. “And there are the unknown lands, but mapmakers don’t typically bother to document those anyway.”

“Wait,” I say. “The unknown lands?”

“I know about those!” Kalim cuts in, and Jamil backs off with an irritated huff. “It’s all the land that’s yet to be mapped. My dad told me stories about them when I was a kid, off all the people who went off in search of treasure. I had a book about them, too, called The Undiscovered Lands! Jamil and I would pretend to be explorers, searching for treasure or lost civilizations!”

“There are undiscovered lands? How much of the world is undiscovered?” I ask.

“I dunno. It’s undiscovered,” Kalim says. “We wouldn’t know how much there is if no one’s discovered it before, right?”

It’s pretty sound logic, admittedly. Though Jamil cuts in as soon as Kalim is done speaking. “People used math in the past to figure out how big Twisted Wonderland is altogether. We don’t know how much land there is exactly, but the current estimate is that about twenty-five percent of Twisted Wonderland is currently unmapped, based on the size of the land we do know about compared to what we don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, twenty-five percent? A full quarter?” I repeat, a bit aghast. “But- but you have magic! How have you not fully mapped the world out yet?”

“No one has perfect mapmaking magic,” Jamil says, as if that’s an obvious fact I should have known and not another nonsensical limitation of magic. “Not unless they’re in the location, and even then, it’s limited. No one could just map faraway lands that they’ve never even seen before.”

“Sure, maybe, but you have teleportation magic. Couldn’t you just teleport there and make a map?”

Jamil looked like he was barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Teleportation isn’t simple magic. Even Malleus’ proficiency with the skill doesn’t let him do whatever he wants. It’s difficult to teleport to an area you’ve never been before, and even more difficult to do so over long distances. Even to get from the edges of the Shifting Sands to the unknown lands would be a feat for your average mage.”

“Uh huh,” I say, processing that as best I can manage. Who’s Malleus? Am I supposed to know who that is? The name sounds vaguely familiar…Oh, he’s the housewarden of Diasomnia, right? Leona mentioned him during the spelldrive tournament, too. I’ve never even seen the guy, though everyone speaks about him in tones equally reverent and terrified.

“My dad always said the unknown lands are dangerous,” Kalim says. “They’re supposed to be full of monsters.”

“Monsters?” I repeat. Grim perks up, ears swiveling toward Kalim, though he’s strangely silent.

Jamil nods. “Supposedly. Though there are those who would disagree and say that the idea of monsters lurking out there is a childhood story.”

“I think it’s true, though,” Kalim adds. “My dad said he knew someone who tried to go on an expedition there, and he asked for money from a lot of the richest people in the Scalding Sands. Dad didn’t give him a loan, though.” Kalim’s face fell. “I always thought that was a shame.” His expression swapped straight back to his usually cheerful grin. “If he’d asked me, I totally would have given him money!”

“And that would have been a bad idea,” Jamil huffs, “because his expedition was a complete disaster and there was no return on investment at all.”

Kalim’s expression falls again. “Yeah, but maybe if he had gotten more money it wouldn’t have ended like that… Also, it’s good to help someone out if they need it, you know?”

Jamil’s clearly trying not to roll his eyes once more, but I’m more focused on something else. “What happened to the expedition?”

“The same thing that happens to all the other expeditions into the unknown lands,” Jamil says matter-of-factly. “They don’t come back, or they come back in tatters, barely able to speak about what they saw.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Monsters!” Kalim says cheerfully. Jamil sighs.

“We don’t know it’s monsters. Most people aren’t able to give clear accounts of what they saw- at least, the ones that come back alive enough to speak.” Jamil shakes his head. “But Kalim is right that most people seem to believe it’s monsters.”

“Ha!” Grim cackles, perking up for the first time since the conversation began. “We monster are pretty tough. No wonder you pidly human mages aren’t up for the job.” He blows a small fireball into the air, as if to demonstrate. “If I didn’t hold back my magical prowess, then there’s no way any of you could stand up against the Great Grim!”

Jamil smirks. “I doubt that’s the case. After all, the only reason people believe there are monsters in the unknown lands is because they were all driven out over a thousand years ago.”

I expect Grim to make some smartass comment about that, but he falls silent. He looks genuinely startled by that bit of information. “Driven out?” I ask when it’s clear he’s not going to be asking anything else about the topic at hand.

“There are a lot of stories about those times, too,” Kalim says. “People and monsters fought over land, but eventually, people got the upper hand and drove monsters out of their territory, all the way to the unknown lands. But now the monsters try to get revenge for being ousted- so if you set foot outside of the settled lands or if you even hear something lurking in the dark, then be careful! It might be monster coming for revenge!” He lurches at me and Grim, hands curled into claws, and gives the most adorable puppy-dog growl I’d ever heard in my life.

I stare at him. Grim, similarly unphased, does the same. “Was that supposed to be scary or something?”

Kalim huffs and slumps back to the ground. “I did that all the time with my kid siblings and they loved it…”

“Yes, well. The stories are meant to keep little kids in line,” Jamil says. “Don’t wander too far from home, or a monster will get you. That sort of thing.” His gaze moves to Grim. “And there are monsters that still sometimes end up in the settled lands- usually small and harmless ones, though.”

Grim puffs up. “Who’re you callin’ harmless?” A little puff of fire accentuates his words.

“Aww, no one thinks you’re harmless, Grim!” Kalim says with oblivious good nature. Grim looks even more insulted by that.

What even is a monster, I wonder, as Grim spits irritably at Kalim. Everybody talks about them- Grim was pretty easily labeled a monster or some sort of dire beast when he arrived at NRC. But the term is sort of nebulously defined. What makes something a monster? Humans aren’t monsters, obviously, and neither are merfolk or beastmen.  But Fae don’t seem to be considered monsters either, even though they’re clearly seen as ‘different.’ Is it just the fact that Fae and beastmen and the like are all humanoid, so they get a pass? Or maybe it’s that monsters don’t talk- except Grim does talk, and no one seems to think that disqualifies him as a monster. Or maybe it just makes him a very strange monster, but a monster nonetheless, like how a talking cat is still a cat and not suddenly a human. But if most monsters don’t talk and don’t look like people, then what makes them any different from animals? Are they more aggressive? Smarter? Magically inclined?

“Are you okay, Gray?” I blink and Kalim’s face is suddenly like an inch and a half from mine. “You got spacey for a second there!”

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking.” Nobody really talks about monsters here, not like they talk about magic. I suppose I could try to ask Grim, but he doesn’t seem aware of anything outside of the fact that he is a monster. It seems rude to bother him about it. “So you guys really have no idea what exists on a quarter of your planet?”

Jamil shrugs. “I take it that’s unusual for you.”

“Pretty much everything was explored in my world,” I say. “Okay, not everything everything- there are probably jungles that people haven’t explored, or islands we don’t really know anything about, but all the major land masses have been pretty much mapped out.”

“That sounds really cool, to have everything mapped out,” Kalim says. He perks up, practically rounding on Jamil. “Maybe once we graduate, we could go exploring!”

Jamil’s expression barely pauses at annoyance before heading straight into alarmed. “Wh- Kalim, no!”

“We’ll be powerful mages,” Kalim insists. “And I’m sure we can get other people to go with us! There are a lot of powerful mages here! We could form a team!”

“Plenty of powerful teams have gone and not come back,” Jamil all but pleads. “Kalim, this is a ridiculous idea.”

“I bet exploring these lands would be a good way to show off my magic skills,” Grim muses, practically to himself. “And ‘Great Explorer Grim’ has a ring to it.” He pumps a paw in the air. “I’m in!” Kalim beams at him.

Jamil massages a hand over his forehead. “You know they’re only going to talk about it for a while and forget about it in a few weeks,” I offer.

“Yes. But meanwhile I’ve got to clean up after any impulsive moves Kalim makes in the meantime.” He massages harder at his temple.

“You don’t have to,” I say. “Kalim’s got no idea about how hard anything is because you’re always taking care of all the consequences for him.”

“That’s my job. I’m supposed to make sure nothing happens to him,” Jamil says, shooting me an annoyed look. “Besides, if anything bad happens to Kalim, he’s not the one who suffers the consequences, no matter what I do.”

“When you were at home, yeah. But you’re at school now, and I don’t think Kalim’s going to rat you out. I’m not suggesting you just ditch him completely. But I think he could stand to remember to bring his own textbooks to class once in a while or help you with cooking. Seriously. Don’t you want less work?”

Jamil ‘tch’es quietly. I can’t tell if he’s agreeing or just privately thinks my idea is stupid. Hard to tell, with him. He’s got kind of a weird inferiority superiority complex. Maybe I made things worse by bringing it up, but at least I’ve said my piece.

Dealing with guys steeped in three layers of emotional issues is hard enough without them potentially becoming big ink monsters. I’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime, but I’ve given up on hoping it won’t happen again.

I don’t know if it can happen a second time to someone, but if I can head it off at the pass, well. That seems like a good idea to me.

“Grim,” I call out. He perks his ears at me, pausing in his planning with Kalim. “We should probably get going.”

“What?” Kalim says, dismayed. “So soon?”

“We’ve been here for hours,” I point out. “Grim and I should probably walk back before it starts getting dark.” It’s just before sunset, from the positioning of the sun, and while we probably have a while before it actually gets dark, I want to leave as soon as possible. I’ve seen the sunset here a couple of times, and the way the light goes gold and red with the already gold and red decorations of the dorm is unsettling to me- makes me feel like there’s fire around me.

“At least stay for dinner!” Kalim insists. “Or maybe we could even have a sleepover!”

“I don’t want to sleep over here.” The words tumble out fast, faster than my mind really even processes them. Kalim blinks once. Jamil turns his head away, arms folded. His long bang-thing obscures most of his face from my view, but his mouth is set in an unhappy line. “I- sorry. The ghosts at Ramshackle, you know, they miss us if we’re not around and I just sleep better in my own bed, and school’s starting soon and all, and I’d like to study and all my books are back at Ramshackle anyway, so-” Stop talking! The more excuses you give, the less believable they are!

“See? Gray has plenty of reasons to go back to her dorm,” Jamil cuts in smoothly. “And it’s unbecoming of a party host to keep a guest who wants to leave.”

“Okay,” Kalim sighs. “Oh, but maybe we could use the flying carpet to take you guys back! It’d be quicker!”

“Uh, no. I think Grim and I could walk.” Or, I’ll walk. If we have to go long distances, I usually end up carrying him. And for Grim, a long distance is anything more than a walk between classes. After my crash landing, flying on the carpet makes me nervous. Even if Kalim is certainly better at steering it than I was.

Kalim dithers for a moment, watching me with big eyes before going, “All right.” He’s oblivious a lot of the time, but I think even he can pick up that I’m uncomfortable. “If you’re not going to stay, maybe you could take some food? We have plenty!”

“Yeah!” Grim says before I can open my mouth. “I’m always down for some grub!”

“I’ll get some containers,” Jamil says, and whisks off to the kitchens.

I end up with so many containers that Grim has to trot beside me on the way back to our dorm. Kalim and Jamil wave us off, with Kalim insisting we return soon. I make no promises, though I’m sure we’ll bump into each other. I’ve been pretty poor at avoiding the previous overblotters. But at least Kalim is nice, and after everything I’ve been through, I think having to endure some parties isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Read the next chapter here.

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Gwyn forced herself to take a breath—and then another. There was a door and a whole other room between them. She was fine. 

It’s only Azriel, she reminded herself. And though he may not want her with him, he wouldn’t do anything, either. She knew that. Oh, how she knew it—would have sworn it over her own grave. But seeing him standing in the doorway of that room was entirely another. Gwyn’s heart raced a miserable, anxious beat she couldn’t silence no matter how many times she reassured herself that Azriel was her protector.

Because he was still a male, and Gwyn hadn’t been so alone with one in her entire life. The only upside was that she wouldn’t have to track him down each night to find out what he was doing. And no one was going to try and get in her room when there was a six foot six Illyrian warrior sleeping behind a half closed door. 

Gwyn tapped her foot nervously against the pale white marble, listening to the sounds of Azriel cursing softly as he put his things away. The clanking of metal against wood told her he was hiding weapons anywhere within reach, a theory validated when he strolled into the lounge with several daggers held casually in his large hand. 

“Get up,” he ordered, stalking toward the black leather sofa she’d been sitting on. Gwyn scowled.

“Why? So you can hide a dagger beneath the cushion?”

“Yes,” he replied, holding her gaze. 

“And what happens when it stabs me the next time I sit?” 

Azriel smothered a cruel smile. “You’ll heal.”

Prick! 

“You trust them so little that this is necessary?” Gwyn asked, watching him carefully slide a silver hilted dagger beneath the cushion in between the seam. Easy enough to reach for if one of them needed to, but hidden well enough no one would think it was there. 

“I don’t trust anyone,” he reminded her with a bite of impatience. “Better to be prepared than dead.”

Gwyn had millions of questions for him, just like she always did. Who hurt you? It was always the top of her list and one she didn’t dare ask him. Just as she wouldn’t want someone prying into her own personal past, even if Azriel knew all the horrible details because he’d been there. He was still the only person who didn’t look at her with pity besides Nesta and Emerie. Of course, that was because he was too busy looking at her like she’d disappointed him.

Gwyn supposed she had. She’d stopped going to training and never told him why.

They both had their secrets. 

“What did you think of the royal family?”

She knew, though. She’d seen his face when she’d turn to look at him only once—because she hadn’t dared to look again. How Gareth and Kai didn’t cower at the sight of the cold disdain etched over his features was beyond her. Gwyn was certain she would have crumpled into a heap if he’d ever looked at her with half as much hatred. 

“Strange,” he murmured, turning his eyes toward the windows pulled tightly with curtains. Gwyn had to admit their aversion to sunlight seemed unusual, but they’d been politer than she’d first imagined. It was surreal that an actual king would want to meet her at all. “You can’t trust them.”

“Apparently not,” she snapped as Azriel slid another dagger behind a set of books shelved against the wall. He glanced over at her, brows furrowed but Gwyn walked to her room and closed the door with a satisfying snap. Azriel didn’t trust anyone. That didn’t make him right, just paranoid. She supposed that was why he was good at his job, but to her she found it frustrating.

Couldn’t he give them the benefit of the doubt? This culture was new and perhaps the curtained windows were some religious or cultural practice she and Azriel didn’t understand. Gwyn was willing to learn more—that was why she’d come, wasn’t it? An exchange of knowledge, even if what she was allowed to share was limited.

Case and point—Gwyn could not share any information about how the Archeron’s had gained their powers or any of the research Velaris had compiled surrounding the Cauldron. She wasn’t allowed to share the scope of power regarding any of the High Lords, or how their magic moved beyond simple bloodlines. 

She’d committed Rhysand’s list to memory thinking it would be better to just feign ignorance. She was only a priestess working far below the High Lord. Her scope was pretty limited, though even some of Merril’s research into multiple worlds was restricted. Her training was also not allowed, though Gwyn wondered if she could covertly try and see if Montesseres library contained anything interesting regarding the Valkyries. 

By the time Gwyn walked out of her bedroom, Azriel was gone. Likely hiding more daggers throughout the dark palace, if she had to guess. For one depressing moment, she wished it was Cassian who had come with her. At least he smiled. At least he was friendly. Azriel was none of those things.

Gwyn shoved him from her mind. She wasn’t going to think about Azriel and his brooding and penchant for violence, nor was she going to let herself wonder what it said about her that the High Lord thought she was the best choice to accompany him.

Gwyn could show them all—and she needed to, if she wanted to do anything but book running when she returned home. Gwyn needed to prove herself not just to Merril and Rhysand, but the Clotho, too. And maybe herself, though that seemed low on her list of people to prioritize. At any rate, she was here. 

“I’m here,” she whispered to herself, reaching into her pocket for her sisters invoking stone. Gwyn reveled in the cool, smooth rock rolling between her fingers until her heart slowed to normal again. She was okay. She was here. 

Nothing can break me, she reminded herself. She’d survived and maybe that just had to be enough for now. Everything felt like survival, though—and very few things felt like living. Nesta and Emerie did, but they weren’t with her. Taking a deep breath, Gwyn pulled open the door.

“Oh, for Cauldron’s sake!” she exploded, coming out of her skin at the sight of Azriel just on the other side. A near feline smile spread over his features.

“Did I scare you?”

“No,” she lied. What would he look like, she wondered, if he ever actually smiled. Gwyn tried to imagine it and failed—Azriel didn’t seem the type. Perhaps his friends had seen it and she bet he made them swear on pain of death never to admit he’d had such a show of emotion outside of brooding, icy anger. “You’re merely in my way.”

His eyes widened mockingly. “In your way?”

“Yes, my way,” she repeated, shoving past his big, muscular body. Azriel didn’t budge, forcing her to plant her hands against the leather plated armor on his stomach and physically push in order to get him out of the doorframe. Behind him, his wings flared for a moment while those curious shadows of his swirled between the pair of them. If they were angry or amused, Gwyn couldn’t tell. She wasn’t well versed in shadow speak the way he was. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked in the low, gravely voice of his. Gwyn fought a shiver. She bet that look on his face, coupled with his dangerous, icy tone made people wet themselves. It was tempting to stop entirely, to buckle beneath the weight of his stare but this was Azriel.

And he wouldn’t hurt her. 

“I’m going to give myself a tour of the palace,” she said blithely, certain he wouldn’t join her. In truth, Gwyn just wanted to find the most expedient route to the library. She didn’t need Azriel escorting her every day given the way people couldn’t take their eyes off him—he was so striking, so absurdly handsome that everyone turned to look at him not once, but twice. The first time was just a passing glance at the large, winged male but the second was to ensure they were seeing him correctly. 

No one looked like Azriel. Certainly not here. The two royals she’d met were pale and exhausted looking. And though she would have rather died than admit it, Azriel was easily the best looking male in any room by virtue of his high cheekbones, his smooth, brown skin, and the way his inky, blue black hair flopped gently over his forehead. There was no mistaking Azriel for what he was—a born and bred warrior who could likely easily kill someone with one hand as he could with the dagger strapped at his thigh. And yet there was an elegance to his sharp features that suggested in another life, Azriel might have been a lord.

He was certainly handsome enough to be a prince. 

As it stood, he was a scowling, winged bastard still in her way. He’d stepped in the middle of the hall, arms crossed against his chest, wings touching either wall to keep her from pushing past again. She wanted to shout at him which would do her as good as shouting at a mountain. His whole job centered around pushing people’s buttons. Better not to let him know he;d gotten under her skin. 

“A tour.” He spoke the words tonelessly, hazel eyes searching her for some obvious lie. Gwyn held his stare, refusing to back down.

“Am I allowed? Because I thought you’d prefer to be rid of me.”

He scowled. She was certainly under his skin. Gwyn counted that as a victory. “If you get hurt, Nesta will have my balls.”

“That’s not my problem,” Gwyn said blithely. “Now, move.”

He spread his legs ever so slightly, spreading out those massive wings as he angled his head. He was accessing her like she was a threat. “Or what, Gwyn?”

“You’re not the only one who can use a dagger.”

He didn’t smile, though she swore his mouth twitched. “You think you could take me? When you quit training with me?”

“Cassian still teaches me,” she said, but her words didn’t sound convincing to her ears. Azriel’s gaze sharpened.

“Why did you quit, Gwyn?”

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

They were at a stalemate. Gwyn would never tell him why she’d stopped training with him and Azriel wasn’t going to budge. And rather than giving in or going back to the room and slipping away when he wasn’t paying attention, Gwyn merely rounded on her heel and took off down the opposite end of the hall.

Behind her, Azriel growled softly. Typical males, snapping and snarling when they didn’t get their way. 

Let him.

Azriel wasn’t in charge of her.

No one was.

AZRIEL:

Gwyn rounded the corner before Azriel tucked his wings against his back and went after her. Two of his shadows were trailing her, one because he’d ordered it and the other because it was merely curious. He could hear their whispering, convincing him to keep his distance.

I think she hates you.

She could get in line. Azriel had known being here with her was going to be difficult but he’d assumed she’d be…more afraid? Especially today, after the prince had been looking at her with such interest. And yet there she was, when he rounded the corner, stomping her feet as she marched away from him. Azriel kept his eyes on the syrupy cinnamon and penny colored hair swinging past her shoulders, the tips brushing just above her hips. His shadows curled around her shoulders, likely trying to whisper any number of secrets in her ears, those traitors. 

Azriel could not understand their fascination with her. Case and point: Gwyn waved her hand impatiently, trying to shoo them away when she realized he was trailing her both in body and spirit, which resulted in one shadow playfully braceleting her wrist.

Azriel sighed.

“Where are you going?” he called when she reached another of those miserable, spiraling staircases. Increasing his pace and tucking his wings closer to his body, Azriel caught up to her before she’d made it three steps. She might have been tall, but he was taller by a good head and shoulders. 

“I told you what I was doing,” she snapped. Azriel rolled his neck against his shoulders, biting the urge to snap back. Gwyn glanced back, eyes narrowed and he knew without any magic at all, that whatever words slipped from her lips next were going to start a fight. “I know you can’t read, but I assumed you still were able to comprehend words, shadowsinger.”

Azriel reached for her without thinking, fingers curling around the tops of her arms. They were at the bottom of the twisting stairs, alone on another dark landing. Whispering shadow told him there was no one lurking nearby—not even servants. He might have told them to scout for the library had he not pressed Gwyn against the cool wall, his temper getting the best of him.

She jutted her chin in the air, eyes blazing with defiance. “I don’t need to know how to read to end this mission for you. One word to Rhysand is all it would take to put you back where you came.”

Gwyn shoved at his chest again, for all the good it did. Azriel didn’t budge, crowding closer until he could smell the scent of viola and cinnamon. He’d forgotten what she smelled like, had forgotten that dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose and her cheek. Up close, he could see flecks of gold in those teal eyes…and her anger. 

Azriel took his hands off her arms, though he merely braced them against the stone behind them to keep her from darting away again. 

“You won’t,” she said, crossing her arms again.

“Wouldn’t I? I work better alone.”

“Is that an option? Maybe you’ll be paired with someone far more loathsome than me!”

Azriel hid the truth of her statement even as Vanserra’s smug face floated in his mind. Gwyn was far better—and far prettier—than Vanserra, who was likely to try and kill him in his sleep if he pulled half the shit Azriel was pulling right then. Still, Azriel couldn’t back down.

“Want to find out?”

Gwyn inclined her head. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Not really. His shadows swirled between them, murmuring that someone was coming. Azriel pushed back, not wanting someone to think he was menacing the nice priestess. All Azriel wanted to be seen as was her protector, even if they privately didn’t get along. Because while she could snipe and scowl at him all she liked, if anyone else elicited that reaction from her, they’d find truth teller pressed against their jugular vein.

“Behind me, Gwyn,” he murmured. To his immense satisfaction, whatever she saw in his expression convinced her to stay where she was, half tucked behind his wing where, if he needed to, he could fully shield her with his body. Azriel felt tense, shadows darting to a nearby corner to watch and whisper.

It was only Kai. Uncrowned and casual, the prince seemed surprised to find them both standing tense before him. Those blue black eyes found Gwyn before they found him, dismissive as usual. “Lady,” he murmured, bowing so deeply Azriel wondered how he managed to stay on two feet at all. He glanced over at Gwyn, who seemed impassive. Unimpressed, at least, which helped the anger twisting in his chest. He wanted to roar at Kai to get away from her, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was that look on Mor’s face when she warned him about Gareth and Kai. “What brings you down to the kitchen?”

The kitchen? 

Gwyn’s cheeks darkened with embarrassment. “I um..” “Where is the library?” Azriel interjected. He wasn’t going to watch her be made a fool of. “Do you not have staff that can assist her?”

Kai’s attention was back on him. Good. Azriel was the threat and the person he needed to be wary of. Not Gwyn, who was here to do an actual job. Azriel, too, though Kai didn’t need to know that. Still, the princes gaze traveled over his body.

“I can show the lady how to get to the library from her bed chamber,” Kai said, his voice too silky for Azriel’s liking. Suddenly those adjoining rooms seemed necessary. He’d be keeping his door open at night…not that he slept most of the time anyway. Kai gestured for Gwyn, offering up a rather puny looking arm that she looked at with what Azriel interpreted as haughty disdain.

Had Nesta taught her that? Or was he misreading the expression on her face? It certainly dimmed some of Kai’s slick charm, at any rate, given his hand fell to his side.

And Gwyn still stepped forward. She didn’t touch him, reminding Azriel she was likely wary of the male. Azriel brought up the rear, once again making himself small to go back up those winding, narrow stairs.

Whereas before, Azriel worked to make himself seem smaller, once they were back on the landing, Azriel spread himself out for Kai’s benefit. He was big in comparison to the lean prince and he didn’t want that male to forget it. Let him think of Azriel as brute so long as Kai always thought twice when it came to Gwyn.

Or anyone from Prythian, for that matter. 

Azriel tuned out their chatter in favor of his whispering shadows. 

The king is on the grounds

Stained glass hides behind the curtains in the grand hall 

There is a tomb just outside the garden 

A large garrison on the outskirts of the city is only half filled

Little whispered pieces of information Azriel tucked away, uncertain if any of it was useful. It gave him an edge and answered some basic questions. His shadows were not with him, mapping the palace for him to later sketch out when he was alone. 

It was the sound of Gwyn’s laugh that pulled Azriel from his job. Her face was lit with a genuine smile the likes of which had never been directed at him. She tucked a piece of hair behind a delicately arched ear devoid of any jewelry before she slid that same hand into the pocket of her azure dress. There was nothing Kai could have said to elicit such a response and yet Gwyn wasn’t a practiced courtier. She didn’t smile on demand, nor did she laugh because it was expected of her.

There was genuine mirth in those teal eyes. It should have filled him with relief. She didn’t need him breathing down her neck. And yet that smile bothered him for reasons he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was just Kai, who was grinning back, pale cheeks flushed from whatever she was laughing at.

A joke at his expense, Azriel hoped. He swallowed his irritation, following the path up another dark level toward the library Gwyn would spend the majority of her time in. 

“Why do you keep the windows covered?” Gwyn asked curiously, ducking her head when the prince turned his gaze to her fully. 

“My father is still in mourning,” Kai told her easily, reaching for a set of wide, golden handles attached to two double doors. “Anything beautiful reminds him of her, so the windows stay closed and he remains in doors.”

“And you?” Gwyn questioned, her voice rich with sympathy. 

Azriel recognized the icy rage that slithered over the prince’s face. “I miss her too,” he said, his breathless voice so at odds with the anger on his face. It was gone before Gwyn could look up and see what Azriel had.

He tucked that way, too. It was merely another piece in the strange puzzle of the Montessere palace. Maybe it meant nothing, but the thought of the queen flinging herself off one of those spires was an interesting mystery. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother. Was it recent?” Gwyn, the clever creature, asked. Azriel betrayed nothing, stepping onto immaculate wood floor so clean he could see his own reflection against the warm surface. The room itself smelled heavily of mahogany and dust, and was so small Azriel wondered how they justified calling it a library. Gwyn, too, seemed taken aback by the open atrium of worn, sun-stained red furniture long abandoned, centered around tables that were cracked and gouged by time. 

“Five years,” Kai murmured, reminding Azriel of what Mor had said. The Montessere royals were old. Five years was likely nothing to a male like Kai, who Azriel guessed had a few centuries on him. How had he spent it? “Is this what you’re accustomed to?”

Azriel thought of the lovely library Gwyn worked in and how carefully Rhys had expanded the knowledge within. There was, of course, no point in comparing anything to the library Helion had in the famed Sun Palace, but Rhys’s was a decent rival. Hell, Azriel bet even the Spring Court had more space than the narrow shelves of dusty, peeling books that travelled only two stories in the air, with shelves that were half empty. 

“Um,” Gwyn began, eyes scanning the room. “It’s very…”

“Small,” Azriel supplied. “Is this all of it?”

“Of course not,” Kai said with an easy smile. “But your High Lord assured me our two lands shared similar values.”

Neither Gwyn nor Azriel moved, both looking at Kai as they waited for clarification. What could that possibly have to do with anything?

Color flooded Kai’s cheeks again. Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “Females in our territory ah…”

Gwyn looked up at Azriel, eyes wide. 

“Don’t what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Kai shrugged, the movement seemingly defensive. “Females are delicate.”

Gwyn’s mouth fell open. “Books hardly require that much physical exertion—”

“Ah, but reading is quite taxing, is it not?” Kai challenged with an earnestness that made Azriel want to bash Kai’s face in with his fist. 

“I’ve never thought so,” Gwyn replied, eyes flashing a warning Azriel could read all too well. Kai seemed content to concede his point. 

“Well, I suppose you have a lot to teach us. That was the point of your presence, was it not?”

“It is,” she said, offering him another tentative smile. It did nothing for his rising temper. Had Rhys and Mor known this? Why wouldn’t they warn him? 

Kai was beaming again. “I look forward to this exchange of culture. Tomorrow I’ll be sure to have a scholar sent up—if you require anything, he’ll see you get it.”

“What do the females of Montessere do, then?” Gwyn interrupted, clearly curious. Azriel wondered this, too.

Kai’s smile faltered. “Why…they’re mothers, of course. Wives, too. What greater calling could there be? Truly society would crumble without them.”

His eyes shifted to Azriel, clearly questioning what Azriel’s function was in relation to Gwyn. Azriel said nothing, content to let the male imagine a variety of scenarios, all false. So long as it kept his fucking eyes off Gwyn, Azriel didn’t care what Kai thought. 

“No priestesses?” Gwyn interrupted, unaware of the silent showdown. Kai glanced back at her.

“Some, but we prefer priests here.”

Yeah, Azriel bet they did. Wait until they learned of Feyre, he thought wryly. A female who rivaled her male counterpart in power and respect and ruled not beneath him, but alongside him as his equal. Azriel straightened himself at the thought, proud no one from the continent would ever be subjected to the same humiliation Gwyn was currently weathering. 

“Well. I’ll see the pair of you at dinner? I’ll have a servant sent up so you don’t end up in the dungeons.”

Gwyn smiled at the pathetic joke though Azriel didn’t bother to acknowledge it at all. He merely stood, watching Kai brush a kiss against Gwyn’s knuckles. She snatched her hand back quickly, cradling it to her chest, brows pulled together not with fear, but annoyance. The pair waited until Kai closed the door behind them, blowing out a breath in unison.

“Fuck that guy,” Gwyn whispered, taking Azriel by surprised. A laugh bubbled out of him, echoing around them. Gwyn watched, eyes bright with delight as Azriel smothered the rest of it, though his smile lingered. “Now I have to stay, just to prove him wrong about me.”

“Not everything needs to be a fight, you know.”

She turned toward the curtained windows, hands on her hips. “I know that. But maybe some battles are worth fighting.”

And maybe she was right.

[rainbow18]

Sonic Nine and Main Character centered morality.

Once again. This wasn’t made to say Sonic should be highly criticized, but a lot of things people are complaining about Nine doing are things Sonic done.

1. Having a Giant Accident while trying to help the place they love.

When Sonic was hoping to help Green Hill, he had an accident. He didn’t mean to break the universe, he just wanted to help. However he ended up breaking everything, So he became concerned about it and wants to fix his mess.

When Nine was hoping to help The Grim, he had an accident. He didn’t mean to break the Shatterverse, he just wanted to help The Grim. However he ended up breaking everything. So he became concerned about it and wants to fix his mess.

However Nine received more criticism than Sonic. In fact, A lot of People have developed self serving memory and began pretending that Nine’s destroying everything on purpose. (Which is something he never claimed he wanted to do.)

But there’s a GIANT PLOT HOLES with that interpretation. Why would Nine want to destroy The Grim? Why does Nine become fearful and angry every time he sees the Shatterverse breaking? Why does he voice a desire to help when nobody is around to listen? (Consciously or not, Nine’s becoming more like Sonic each time they see each other.)

If it’s because Nine didn’t want to commit suicide, First off, that’s victim blaming. Secondly, Sonic didn’t want to help The Grim. So why should Nine help Green Hill?

(Relationships can’t be “All Take. No Give.” If Sonic wants Nine to help Green Hill than he should help The Grim. It’s only fair. )

2. Bad Consequences while trying to clean their mess.

Until The Final Season/Part 3 trailer opens up the possibility that they found a secret 3rd option, It was highly theorized that The Shatterverse will cease to exist if The Prime Characters are saved. Sonic also began stealing the shards.

Some Fans justified this by saying things “Sonic’s mass murder and thefts are okay because he wants to fix his Mess.”

While when Nine realized that he needs to get The energy in Sonic to save the day, He began targeting him. Fan’s reaction? Criticizing him by saying things like “Wanting to stop everything from vanishing isn’t an excuse to target Sonic and he is completely unredeemable for it”

Well, if Saving Millions isn’t an Excuse to Harm Just 1 person, why should Saving a Minority be an excuse to Commit Mass Genocide?

Since Sonic’s plan involves WAY more deaths, while Nine’s plan involves only 1, if Nine is unredeemable than Sonic is unredeemable.

Besides, even if Nine does end up merging the shatterspaces, it still wouldn’t be worse than what Sonic’s doing.

3. Justifications.

When defending Sonic, people often use one of the following.

It was an accident

he doesn’t realize what he’s doing.

He just wants a home.

As I proved, There’s not a single one that doesn’t apply to Nine. Nine just wanted a home. No, calling the Grim superior doesn’t mean he wants more because then you’ll have to give Sonic the exact same scrutiny for acting like Green Hill is better than The Grim.

Throughout everything, Nine only expressed a desire to help The Grim. He never expressed a desire to harm anyone who isn’t currently attacking him. Nine’s mind is unstable due to his fight with Sonic, he isn’t thinking clearly.

Before anyone goes “But Sonic”, Sonic doesn’t count because 1. Sonic’s death is necessary to save the day and 2. Sonic likely still wants to fix Green Hill therefore he’s a threat.

Sonic became ghostly and everything appears to be stabilizing unless the Portal is the only one left in existence.

The fact that Sonic isn’t already in there, heavily implies that Nine still has the prism in The Grim. Nine isn’t attacking so if he still angry, it goes to show that Nine has a “I’ll leave you alone, if you leave me alone” mindset.

(How interesting. Despite Sonic’s Claims that It’ll be “Game over” if Nine gets to him, the end implies that it’s actually “Game On” if Nine gets Sonic. )

[therealslimshakespeare]

What got you into writing/how long have you been writing?

What’s your writing inspiration?

Do you write in silence or need background sounds? Like music?

Do you struggle more with dialogue or detail?

Any tips for someone who wants to write fanfiction?

How do you differ all your OC’s so you don’t rewrite the same characters over and over?

Do you do research?

— from someone who would love to write their own stories lol but yours are great!

My darling. So many apologies for how tardy I’ve been in replying to this, I really wanted to give it due thought because I’m quite touched you’d even ask.

1: I’ve been writing since I was little, my mama was always reading me classics and my greatest ambition was to be some kind of author every bit as colorful as their characters, a la Oscar Wilde. 🥳

2. Writing inspiration? Oh that’s a hard one only in that I could cite a million things and chat your poor ear off, but to be boring and also frank -I just love stories. I think they’re so inspiring and healing and necessary for making sense of things, or else resigning to things that can’t be explained. I love to study love and how very human and fallible and also indestructible it is in its many forms. I love to dig through tragedy and find the refining purpose of it, I love to take characters through hells I’ve been through so that I can imagine their triumphs, too, and my own through them. If this can happen to -name your hero- then I’m no smaller for it happening to me, if -name your hero- can get through it and be loved and admired by a whole fandom? -I deserve the same commendation from myself at the very least. Stories are essential and fun and I never ever imagined I’d have a little group one day liking my own where we could all scream about these things together. I’m legit so humbled each time I log on here and find y’all ready and waiting and interactive. The community of it, that’s the biggest drive right now, tbh. What a sweet season.

3. I usually write in silence, or else at any chance where I have a moment, so that could be public transport or lunch breaks or in the loo during family holidays, ha. However I do find music to be an inspiring mood setter for writing later that day. Especially as i juggle many ongoing projects at once, the genre im listening to before may very well influence what gets worked on.

4. Detail!! Dialogue can be challenging but I hear it so clearly in my head most of the time that it’s not hard. Details can devastate me.

5. Ooof, I still feel like I’m a baby at it, this is only my second fandom to dare for. I’d say for sure write what you find inspiring instead of what appears to be wanted, i firmly believe that’s the only sure way to keep up any inspiration and the niche will draw its own crowd, one’s who will like it all the better for its specially crafted world. Also, for dialogue -replay and replay dialogue from the character before you write. Are they terse or do they ramble? Are they sarcastic or earnest? Do they have a word they repeat often? -I noticed the other day how Rosenthal uses “you know?” often in the show. Also, sometimes switch up sentence structure from character to character, it helps feel like hopping brains without a fully jarring POV change. All these are things I’m currently working at myself, but that’s the best I’ve got for advice.

6. Oh boy I’m still figuring this out myself. Three things come to mind as little helps I use- first off, read real biographies, it helps tremendously with crafting fully dimensional fictional people. Two -have a maturing arc for your OC during the story, separate from whatever adventure or romance that occurs, this will make it feel less like a inserted person into the broader story. Three, choose a personality type or something similar to both keep them separate from the next but also to ensure their virtues have corresponding vices.

7. I do research a lot. But I find that it’s a fine line for myself of when that drains all creativity or bravery. Im massively indebted to so many mutuals who generously share their own with me.

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

Could you do Papa Copia x reader headcanons for an accident prone reader, but they have a high pain tolerance? They also tend to not really share their injuries as well unless absolutely necessary? Due to an ear condition I grew up with chronic pain, so at some point I just sort of got used to it. But I've done a lot of dumb things and gotten hurt from it but always played it off as if it were fine. Like my hand was small enough it got stuck in door of a car to the point it was able to lock and I couldn't pull my hand out. My mom didn't believe me when I said my hand was locked in the car until she walked around to my side. Her reaction was far bigger than mine. Or one time I burnt my hand in order to save my pizza from hitting the floor. Later my family questioned why I was just sitting eating pizza with a hand covered in blisters. I feel poor little Copia would have a heart attack 😂

I had so much fun writing these headcanons because Copia would absolutely become an even bigger worry wort than he already is if that's even possible oops. I won't say 'be careful' because as someone who is clumsy and accident prone myself I know that it can't be helped a lot of the time, so instead I'm manifesting that you never get hurt seriously!! I hope I did this request right and that you enjoy it <3 There's no smut, but there is a very slightly suggestive part nearer the end

Copia is a little oblivious to certain things, so it's not difficult to not tell him about your injuries

Especially when your injuries don't really hurt in the first place so it doesn't really register as something you'd have to tell him about

It's actually either his Ghouls or one of the other Papas that would bring it up with him

Because they'd notice that maybe you have some bruises or injuries and they're concerned that you haven't gone to the infirmary for any of them

None of them think in a million years that Copia has caused any of them, but they are a little concerned that you're hiding something because of course when someone says they tripped or fell when they get injured a lot that warning bell does instinctually ring

But then one of them see you actually fall or injure yourself and how you don't really react or show that you feel any pain and they realise very quickly what's going on

Like, they're walking a little distance behind you as you're both descending some stairs in the abbey

And they're old, steep stairs and easy to fall down

And when they watch you topple down the stairs and start yelling in a panic

But you don't even really flinch or wince when you get up. Just dust yourself off as they speed down the rest of the steps to check you over

And while they check you over and you dismiss them despite having obviously injured yourself in a way that should be more painful than you say it is they realise that your pain tolerance is very high

With the result of this pain tolerance meaning that you just play it off and don't really worry about what happened

I imagine Terzo is probably the most likely to bring it up with Copia

The moment Copia finds out how accident prone you are and how you get injured but never tell anyone because you don't really feel it as much as others would he will be hovering around you constantly for a couple of weeks

He witnesses you burning yourself getting food out of the oven and he swears he's about to have a heart attack

At this point, he now carries a first aid kit around with him everywhere even if you tell him he doesn't need to do that

He accidentally traps your finger in a door and he's more upset than you are. Cries and apologises profusely while you have to reassure him that you're fine and it really didn't hurt all that much

God forbid you ever break a bone in his presence because he will start to panic and you have to be the voice of reason calming him down and telling him what to do

It gets to a point where you have to explicitly explain to him that you grew up with chronic pain which is why your pain tolerance is so high and why you don't worry or panic when you injure yourself

And then you tell him about all the other accidents you've had around the Ministry, which is meant to comfort and reassure him that you're used to pain and know how to take care of yourself but instead it makes him worry even more

He'll feel guilty for not noticing your injuries before now and might be a little hurt that you didn't tell him because he'll take that to mean you didn't trust him

Give him time and he'll slowly come to the realisation that it was never about you trusting him. It's genuinely because you didn't see any reason to tell him because it wasn't serious, it didn't hurt, and your used to pain because of growing up with chronic pain as well as being accident prone

Terzo is a godsend because he sits Copia down to talk about how he also grew up being very accident prone and he gets it. Because Terzo doesn't tell anyone about his injuries or accidents either (much to the annoyance of Omega)

After that, Copia will still worry whenever he sees you have an accident or notices a bruise or injury

But instead of panicking or feeling guilty for not noticing, he will press gentle kisses to every bruise and injury and will ask if you need anything from him

You better believe he'll also be kissing every single injury, bruise, or scar on your body when you're in bed together too

He'll trail his fingers over any little burn or scars on your hands and fingers

Calls them a patchwork that tells your story when you're alone together

He loves you very much and hates that you get injured and have accidents so much, but after a while and being talked to by Terzo he does get it

He'll always worry, but he doesn't outwardly panic and freeze up anymore because he trusts that you'll tell him if you do have an accident or injury that's serious enough for him to know about

[youhavetosmile]

how about Anna, Theo and Foggy prepare our dear Matt for his first date with Karen, for example Foggy and Theo throw Matt in the bathtub, choose his clothes and Matt screams like a 3 year old because of the foam, the water and Anna tells Foggy and Theo to stop laughing because that's hilarious and that's what the brothers are for and Karen and Matt having their first kiss and it's super romantic

Well Karen goes to Nelson's Meafs to find Matt serving customers because he wanted to help his parents, so Karen leaves a note in Braille for Matt saying: it was an amazing night you're different from those stupid kids you are you and that's what I love about you and I wanted to know if you wanted to go to the school dance with me and then Matt smiled

An uncomfortable mix of excitement and nervousness swirled in Matt's stomach as he let the shower water run over him. He'd finally done it; he'd finally asked Karen on a real, actual date. And she had, by some miracle, said yes. The problem was now he actually had to do the date.

Matt peripherally registered the bathroom door opening, but it was all he could do to focus on taking a shower. A million contingencies ran through Matt's mind: what if the food was terrible? What if they ran out of things to talk about? What if he tripped her with his cane?

He heard the faucet running. With five people living in the house and only one bathroom, it wasn't uncommon for someone to come in while he was in the shower, so he returned to washing himself with an extra helping of soap. What if he got food stuck in his teeth? What if she didn't kiss him at the end of the night? What if she did?

The warmth that this thought sent through Matt's body was immediately extinguished by a rush of cold over his head. Matt shrieked at the abrupt change in temperature. Behind the shower curtain, he heard two very familiar laughs. "Guys! What the hell?" he yelled, sticking his head out.

"We're just trying to help, Matty," Theo snickered. "Didn't want you getting too excited before the big date."

"Yeah, cold water's supposed to be good for your skin anyway," added Foggy.

"I'm gonna kill you!"

Matt was about to rip open the shower curtain and wrestle his brothers to the ground, naked and soapy though he was, when their mother came in and saved him that additional embarrassment. "You two, out. Now," she said sternly. Without another word, Theo and Foggy left the bathroom. "Hurry up, Matt, you're using all the hot water" was all she said before shutting the door again.

An hour later, after more teasing from his brothers, some fussing from his mother, and a "don't be out too late, I need you in the shop tomorrow" from his father, Matt left the house and headed to Karen's. Four blocks north, two blocks west, fourth building on the right, fifth doorbell on the lefthand side, just like Karen told him. Buzz in, walk up the stairs, turn right, first door on the left. He hadn't told her that the directions weren't necessary, that he could follow her footsteps with his ears almost all the way home from school, so he knew exactly where she lived. Best not to freak her out too much.

Matt knocked on the door and heard chairs scraping behind it. "I'll get it!" a voice said.

"No, don't!" That was Karen.

"Oh, come on, I wanna meet him!"

"Kevin, stop!"

But Karen was too late. Her brother, Kevin, whom Matt had heard around at school but never actually met, opened the door. "So you must be the boyfriend," he said, and Matt could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Shut up, Kevin!" Karen caught up with Kevin, pulled him behind her, and swiftly shut the door. "Sorry," Karen said nervously. "He's such a pain."

"No worries. Brothers, am I right?"

"Yeah," Karen laughed nervously. "Should, uh--should we go?"

"Yeah," said Matt, moving to unfold his cane again.

"Wait," Karen stopped him. "Let me." Then she took his hand in hers, and it was all Matt could do not to grin like an idiot.

---

Dinner went swimmingly. The curry was fantastic, and the company even more so. Matt didn't know why he'd been so nervous; their conversation flowed as naturally as it always had. There was just one more hurdle to get over: taking her home.

"This is me," said Karen, slowing to a stop in front of her front stoop.

Matt turned around to face her. "You sure you don't live two more blocks? Maybe three?"

"I wish." She took both his hands. "I had a really great time tonight, Matt."

"Me, too. And I'd like to do it again sometime, if--"

"I'd love that."

"Cool." In a momentary lapse of self-control, Matt slid his hand up to rest on Karen's cheek. He leaned in toward her, then froze suddenly. "Sorry. Is this okay?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Can I--?"

"Yes."

Matt had always heard people describe feeling sparks when they kissed someone, but they were wrong. Sparks were jolting, sudden, and made you want to back off. Kissing Karen felt entirely different, like a warm gust of wind pushing them together, and he could've stayed there forever.

Eventually, she broke away softly. "Good night, Matt."

"Good night, Karen." She padded softly up the stairs, holding his hand until the very last second. He waited to make sure she got all the way into her apartment before he left. It was only when he nearly ran into a street light that he realized he forgot to take out his cane.

---

The next night, Matt was washing up after his shift at Nelson's Meats when his father came into the back room. "Matt," he called, "this came for you."

"What is it?" Matt asked, drying his hands and reaching out for the object.

"Just a piece of paper with some sequins glued on it. Theo said someone dropped it off for you."

"Who?"

"I'm not sure. We were so busy, I only saw her for a second. Tall, blonde, about your age..."

"Wait, Karen was here? Why didn't anyone tell me?" With a frustrated groan, Matt took the paper from his dad. But all his stress melted away as he ran his fingers over the bumps on the paper. Karen had used the sequins to spell out a note in Braille:

Matt-

Prom?

Love,

Karen