#we are...as the youths would say...so back

[transkeiichi]

one of my best friends from middle through high school and even into adulthood despite the distance passed away when we were like 20ish.

it was so tragic. i was devastated. but at her wake everyone wore ratty punk and metal band tshirts, full goth make up, lots of long haired dudes in grateful dead tshirts. it was wonderful, honestly. there were way more people i could tell were there for her mom, but i instantly knew who was there *for her*. it was probably 2/3 her moms church and 1/3 people who knew a single thing abt her.

and everyone who was there for her mom hated us. they said we werent being respectful - i kept asking to who? who arent we being respectful to, her mom whos pissed we all look like we got out of a drunk party the night before and wandered into the funeral home in whatever we fell asleep in? probably half the people there did, and she would have adored that.

the funeral goes on, and this preacher gets up there and starts fire and brimstoning. me and her high school friends look at eachother totally fucking confused. what the hell is he saying? hes going on and on about how much her daughter (who also passed away - not going into these details) loved to go to church every wednesday and sunday. how my friend loved to take her daughter to Bible studies. how when the fucking meals on wheels showed up her daughter would dance around the parking lot of their government funded section 8 housing singing hallelujah and kids gospel songs and praising jesus.

we were pissed. the little group of weird emo bisexual girls-soon-to-boys, who grew up with her, sat in the back of the funeral and steamed. i whispered to one of them "if she could get up out of that coffin and leave this bullshit, she would." i guess that was more rude than lying about a dead persons life because some old lady turned around and gave me a nasty look. i asked her who are you? howd you know dana? whens the last time you saw her step foot in a church, cuz i havent seen her in one since we all quit going at 14 because the youth leaders stopped providing free food and that was the only reason wed been going.

she didnt have a response. but i was rude, not the man lying about her, or lying about her daughter. her daughter was only like 2 btw, she could barely walk or talk let alone dance around and sing. and meals on wheels was an incredibly embarrassing experience for her as a young, single mother raising her child. everyone judged her for getting pregnant in hs and while unmarried. she had to pretend to be christian when they came around cuz theyd always give her pamphlets and tell her god loves her and she was afraid they wouldnt stop by her apt anymore if she didnt say those things back.

her tombstone has a bible verse carved in it, because even after death she has been forcibly christianified no matter how many times she told me she didnt believe in god, she believed in kurt cobain, and she hoped if she got reincarnated she came back as a cat.

none of that shit mattered and when i expressed how fucking rude this shit was, i was told the funeral wasnt for her it was for comforting her mother. i said so if i decide to lie abt u after u die and say you were an atheist just like me and ur scared of the black void after death, thatd be ok?

no one likes that question.

anyway, this particular subject is a sore spot. this was my friends blog, let me know if u think she might have been a Secret Christian @1000silentneedles-blog (warning her header is Very Flashy)

I know I just restating the point of that post but respecting religious freedom will sometimes require you to respect someone's belief that religious beliefs are categorically untrue, and there are a lot of people who are unable to handle this, and even more people who think they agree with this but haven't really grappled with what it means.

[colourme-feral]

Translation notes for Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu / Our Youth ep 8

With such scores, won't you have to change your study abroad destination? Since the next time I'm back, (we're definitely doing) applications, so (get your grades ready to do so).

I thought, what I should do if you were to go with girls in yukata to see fireworks. There's no way I would go, of course. Note: Going to see fireworks, especially while wearing yukata, is a very date-like thing, which is why Haruki was worried about that and also why Jin was quick to say that he wouldn't go.

If I am in that house, I won't be able to be free from my current self.

I'm not kind. I only think about myself and am not useful at important times. I'm just a child.

So it's alright if you return to being your original self/the person you were before.

I too, wanna become a proper/put together adult. Whatever happens in my life, I (wanna) be able to overcome it with my own strength. That's the sort of adult I wanna become. An adult. To do that, I'm gonna try leaving everything (behind) once.

But I don't think you'll ever (be able to) read this letter, so it'll become an unsent letter. I won't get a reply either.

I'm glad that we became good friends/became close. If I hadn't met you, I think I would have lived hating myself forever. Being around you made me think I wanted to become a proper person for the first time. You, who are so extremely different from me, are exceedingly special to me. I think you're amazing. I began to want to be a person who is worthy of that you.

If you're with me, only bad things will happen. It is better than you are not with me. It is sad, but that's what I think.

Miseinen / Our Youth translation notes・Other translation notes

[bitingdrivers]

👔 2 times max saw daniel without his suit (a very loose definition of the word ‘without’) and one time daniel saw max in one. bones au, maxiel, 1.4k words. also, there's a smallest vaguest mention of death and viscera, be prepared!

1

Max makes his way through the floor, passing agents who are going home after a long day. Without people the floor looks empty yet cluttered at the same time – dozens of identical desks covered in papers, files, and dirty mugs. 

The office is dark when Max finally reaches its glass doors, an old lamp painting the room with orange light. 

Daniel is sitting at his desk. His suit jacket is draped over his chair, the shoulder holsters are a stark contrast to his white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

He is drinking. The whiskey looks like amber in the warm light of the lamp. 

“Daniel,” Max says as he enters the office. “Are you okay?” He tentatively moves further into the room. 

Daniel looks up at him and breathes out “Yeah. It's just...harder. When it's a kid.” His voice is hoarse. 

Max nods before sitting down in the chair opposite him. “Yes, I understand–” 

“No, it's-” Daniel groans, rubbing his face. “I have a niece and a nephew. They are close to the age the victim was. It was just…hard. Seeing his skeleton. So small.” His voice is barely a whisper at the end.

Max didn't know Daniel had a niece or a nephew, but he supposes it's normal. Maybe he would be an uncle too, if he still talked to his sister. If he knew where she even was. 

He looks out the window. It's so quiet he can hear the sounds of the street below.

“I-I was at Waco. Branch Davidian compound. I helped identify children who had been killed in the fire. 17 of them,” Max says watching headlights pass by like shooting stars.

“Are you saying you get used to it?” Daniel says. His knuckles are white from gripping the empty glass.

Daniel’s collar is unbuttoned, his tie a little loose. Max looks back out the window. 

“No. I'm saying you'll never get used to it.”

The reflection of the lamplight in Daniel's eyes looks like the stars as well.

2

“How long will this take?” Daniel is sitting on the table in the bone room. His suit is covered in pieces of flesh, cartilage, and bone. 

“As long as it takes to remove all the evidence.” Max helps him remove the jacket and puts it in an evidence bag. 

Daniel moves to start unbuttoning his shirt, but Max stops him. “Don't touch anything, Daniel! You might compromise the evidence.” Max loosens and takes off Daniel's tie. It has honey badgers printed on it. It's not completely ruined by the viscera, so Max hopes Daniel will get it back. 

“So. Uh. Do you think it was suicide? The guy tries to rob the bank, but it doesn't work. He blows himself up to escape the jail?” Max can see Daniel's throat bobbing as he unbuttons his shirt. 

“Carlos said the bomb was triggered via two-way radio. He probably had an accomplice,” Max says as he takes off Daniel's shirt. ��Maybe we can track the sig–Oh.”

“Wh-what? Is there goop on me?” Daniel jumps off the table and swivels his head around to check his back. 

“No, no. It's just, I didn't know you have more tattoos,” Max is used to seeing the three on his pinky and the rose on his thumb, and sometimes he catches a glimpse of “free,” “love,” or the cupid inked on his forearms. Now Max sees Daniel's tanned and muscled torso, his smooth chest and, more importantly, his tattoos.

“Oh. Yeah, I had a lot of fun in my youth.” He looks at the astronaut on his left shoulder with a fond smile. 

“You say it like you're an old man,” Max chuckles and drops to his knees. He is about to undo the belt when Daniel jerks back. 

“Woah–uh. Wha-what are you doing?” Daniel stammers, looking down at Max. His eyes are big.

“There's more evidence on your pants. I of course need to remove them too,” Max explains. Daniel pauses, looking into Max’s eyes. Then he nods and looks away. 

Max quickly makes work of Daniel's belt and the pants fall down. There are more tattoos – colorful and big – wrapping around his thigh. 

Max wants to ask more about them when he looks up and. “Daniel. What?” 

“Huh?” Daniel looks down at him. Max can see the tensed muscles of his thighs. Daniel's knuckles are white from gripping the edge of the table. 

“Why do you have… Bring pink?”

Daniel looks at his boxers. Then he exhales and his face relaxes. “Oh. Yeah. These are my… favorites. Don't like to be boring, you know?”

Max is glad to see Daniel’s big smile is back. “You remind me of this bird–” Max tugs at the pants pooled at Daniel’s ankles so he can step out of them, “–Cinnyricinclus leucogaster.”

Daniel makes a confused noise.

Max stands up and moves to put away the pants. “Violet-backed starling. The males have this bright violet plumage to attract mates.”

“Hah, yeah. I'm all about attracting mates.”

When Max turns around, Daniel is looking right at him. 

+1

The building is mostly empty as Daniel makes his way to the lab. This case was not the easiest one, so he is glad that it's finally over. He spent the last few hours going through all the paperwork to make sure the guy will be locked in prison for the next 15 years. 

It has become their tradition to go for a drink after closing a case and Daniel is excited to get himself a beer and listen to Max explaining to him the details of this case as if Daniel is hearing about them for the first time. 

Daniel is just rounding the corner to the glass doors of the lab when he notices Charles talking to someone. Daniel can only see the back of the man – his broad shoulders hugged tightly by a black suit jacket and long legs clad in matching trousers. The man is nodding to Charles’ words when Charles notices Daniel and says hi to him. 

The man turns around and – it's Max. His hair is gelled back, the crisp white shirt is unbuttoned in the collar. Daniel can see the hollow of his throat.

Daniel has never seen Max in a full suit before. In the lab he usually wears a pair of tight jeans and his blue lab coat paired with a basic t-shirt underneath. And outside of the lab he just swaps the coat for a black bomber jacket.

The one time Max had to testify in court, he simply put on a blue shirt that Charles produced seemingly out of thin air. Daniel thought he looked good in blue and even told Max that. Max thanked him and then said that an attorney told him once he should always wear blue when testifying because it disposes the jury from his, apparently, “cold and unpleasant personality.” Daniel hopes this attorney loses every case she gets. 

“Hello Daniel.” Max’s voice brings him out of his thoughts, and Daniel notices an expensive-looking watch on Max’s wrist when he lifts his hand in a little wave. 

“Bones! You look smart tonight.” Daniel tears his eyes away from the way Max’s jacket hugs his waist.

“I thought I always look smart?” Max asks, tilting his head. 

“No-uh. I mean yes. It's just a figure of speech. Means you look good.” Daniel has to loosen his tie a little bit. Maybe they already turned off the building's air-conditioning for the night. Probably so, Max looks a little flushed too. “Should we go somewhere fancy instead of the Founding Fathers then?”  

“Oh. I am sorry Daniel, I can't go with you tonight. There's a party with the university's sponsors and Lewis made us all go,” Max says, looking something between annoyed and sad. 

“Yeah, he threatened us with taking away our parking spots. Very authoritarian of him,” Charles huffs, rolling his eyes.

Now that Daniel is looking, Charles is also dressed in a suit.

“Oh. That's fine, I can survive one night without a glass of beer. Probably better for my liver, right?” Daniel chuckles and rubs his neck as Max furrows his brows. 

Daniel opens his mouth to say something else, although he's not sure what exactly, but Lewis’ voice interrupts him. 

“Alright, everyone ready? The car will be there in 5, we should move.” He claps his hands and moves towards the exit. 

“Have fun tonight, Bones,” Daniel smiles at Max, takes one final look at his suit and turns away. 

He will still go to the bar, but now he won't be listening to Max’s chatter and he definitely will be drinking something stronger than beer.

[iwtv-theories]

The more I think about it… the more I believe Marius wiped Daniel’s memories & messed with Armand’s childhood memories .

Marius messing with Daniel’s memories would be a parallel to how in the books: Marius (for a while) was a barrier between Daniel and Armand eventually getting back together. And we see in the first episode , Daniel’s memoir (about his faulty memories) was published under Roman Weiss (a possible Romanus easteregg since Marius was prideful about being a Roman). Not to mention the shot where Daniel stares at Marius’ painting and says “never heard of him” while Armand is blurred in the background . This could be another hint that Marius blurred his memories of Armand .

Plus, when Daniel has archives of Armand and Louis he first types into the search bar “Marius de Romanus” . It could indicate his subconscious may remember something about Marius. Which is why he seems to have such an interest in him.

Marius forever altering Armand’s loving relationships because he thinks he knows what’s best best for Armand is why he turned Sybil and Benji against Armand’s wishes , and behind his back. So it wouldn’t be that out of character to mess with Daniel’s memories (behind Armand’s back). And I do wonder if he messed with Amadeo’s memories too.

In the books Armand’s dad loved him and was attacked when chasing down the slavers . So , the show change of his parents selling him is interesting. Maybe it’s just an adaption change but maybe it’s more sinister than that . And in the show adaption Marius altered that memory (cause he wanted Amadeo to believe he was the only loving ‘father figure’ in Amadeo’s life/ the first person to ever love him). If that’s the case that opens a lot of other horrifying possibilities . To be fair, it wouldn’t surprise me at all that Armand doesn’t remember certain things because of tra*ma .I believe some of his amnesia is from that.

But, also in the books there were lines that could be recontextualized in the show as foreshadowing that he altered Armand’s memories. where Marius says he wanted to mold Amadeo into his perfect companion. “ to make a blood drinker for my own companionship, indeed to educate a mortal youth for this very purpose, and to GROOM him expertly that he might be the finest choice.”/ “A helpless child. I could mold you and change you, all of which I've done.”

The lines made me recall how Armand in the show mentions “tabula rasa” ( which in Latin means “blank slate”) . In philosophy tabula rasa is a theory that says : at birth the mind is hypothetically a blank or empty slate before receiving memories that shape them into who they are. '

‘Tabula rasa' originates from ancient ROMAN civilization. The term comes from the Roman tabula, a wax-covered tablet used for notes, which was blanked (rasa) by heating the wax and then smoothing it.  In the books Armand said Marius saw his as a " wax doll". And maybe Armand and his tablet obsession is a word pun. Hm?

Would Marius be interested in testing the theory of 'tabula rasa' in order to make the “perfect companion” ? Amadeo essentially was a blank slate for Marius to shape . He was mute and barely remembered anything of his past before Marius - a blank slate that Marius would have benefitted from. Was this just a coincidence? Did he chose him for this reason? Or did Marius have something to do with it? In the books he wanted to help Armand recall his forgotten memories but the show may go in another direction entirely . There must be some significant reason to introduce this new power to the canon?

Would he try to mess with Armand’s memories even in the 70s/80s???! I don’t necessarily believe he’d go that far to be honest. Unless Armand had such a negative reaction to him wiping Daniel’s memories that Marius decided to just cover his tracks and brain wipe Armand too .In the books , Lestat could ‘mind -read / speak’ to his fledglings cause he drank from Akasha . So since Marius also drank from her - he may (theoretically) be able to mess with Armand’s mind in the 80s. if so, the biggest “telenovela “ twist would be that Armand doesn’t remember devil’s minion either . 😅

[levemetal]

Some refs for myself, obvs not super accurate on the left. On the right height chart for myself. No Idc that there’s a canon one. This is the one I’m using, I’m saying Mqf tiny rights- *dragged out*

Mqf has a prosthetic leg and Wqw has a glass eye he terrorizes everyone with from an accident during the disciple days. And I desperately need fics of Qqq and SJ being worsties please if anyone knows any good ones throw the link at me.

More rambling under the cut.

I see Wqw as a particularly chaotic prankster. So every new disciple gets the joke of him dramatically popping out his glass eye in front of them. His older disciples are SO tired of his puns and this particular joke. Also during lessons if someone falls asleep they can expect to wake up to the glass eye on their desk. Wqw is probably a smith's extra son, or even the son of one of the cultivators of Wan Jian who was then put back into the sect. Rascal. Probably had a lot of siblings and thusly chaotic.

Qqq I imagine is probably from a noble family, tho was likely the daughter of a concubine or so and therefore more ignored enough so she could go off to cultivate. In another universe than pidw or svsss I imagine she's besties/worsties with SJ cause these two would LOVE to bicker and slander people together

Mu Qingfang!! He has grown on me and now I have half a lore ready for him and. Idk man. We don't know shit about the guy but I am obsesseeeed. Also yes this is the final iteration of his design I'm gonna settle on. And he's now tiny sorry not sorry

For Mqf I thought it'd be fun if he were from a poorer background kinda like Yqy and SJ. Just a miserable poor farmer's son, who only lived past an accident that cost half his leg in his youth because they lived by the sect region and QCP had a clinic nearby to help. He was fascinated, the healers likely noticed his talents for cultivating and in order to help his sickly sister, he went to QCP. Unfortunately he never was able to save his sister, but now here he is, in QCP as peak lord. A bit too obsessed with experimenting and furthering the medical arts, can be very distressing to witness for secular world members. Adores poisonous plants and has been steadily making antidotes.

[polutrope]

Very happy birthdays to you and Melesta! Wishing you both health and joy and freedom.

Would love a little scene between Finduilas and Turgon, in Valinor, "after." If you feel so moved.

🧡

Turgon and Finduilas, reembodied. Rated G, 1100 words. By @polutrope and @melestasflight. On AO3.

“Sorontië, Numentië, Asartië,” Turgon mutters to himself, looking from street corner to street corner, placing names upon the grid of Tirion. Strange that he, who built a city in its image, now finds the grandeur and pulse of Tirion too much to bear. Perhaps it is only the freshness of his renewed body, but everything is so dazzling here, too clean, and the reflected light off all the marble and painted glass hurts his eyes. 

As his gaze travels between stalls, carriages, and ornate facades, they land upon one nearby who had until now escaped his notice for how still they stood amidst the city’s perpetual movement. 

“Findaráto?” he says, half to himself, because he knows that hair, that peculiar shade of gold as if a bloom of Laurelin has just burst open. But no, he has seen Finrod since he returned — this figure is slight, delicate, as Finrod was in his youth. Not as he is now, in his second life, a warrior reborn as their people’s crown prince.   

The body turns and the face that greets him is both alike to Finrod’s and distinctly not. A deep frown adorns her fair features. “How many more in this city will take me for my uncle?”

“I am sorry, lady,” Turgon says, nodding in greeting — and it is only when he lifts his chin and looks at her that her words fully settle in his mind. “Your… uncle?”

Her frown deepens and she looks as if she is ready to throw yet another accusation at him, but she is interrupted by a jewelry seller thrusting an elaborate hair ornament practically into her face.

“Would the lady Finduilas like to try this piece instead?” The seller is almost shouting in her excitement. “It is our latest, created by Lúletinwë.” When Finduilas does not react, the seller adds, sympathetically: “Tirion’s most famous designer of this century.” 

Finduilas — Turgon knows the name. Could it be? Finduilas of Nargothrond, Orodreth’s daughter, Finrod’s most beloved niece? Finduilas now glares at the jewelry seller, the exasperation written upon her face.

Turgon cannot blame her. He looks from her face to the ornament: it is like a malformed octopus made of gems, lined with the most ostentatiously enormous, poorly cut, and ill-matched ruby and emerald crystals Turgon has ever seen. 

“Return that hideous clump of rock to the bowels of the earth where it belongs!” Turgon blurts, physically recoiling. He shudders. “Better yet, cast it into the Void.”  

The jewelry seller’s eyes widen in shock, her jaw dropping. Turgon winces; his mouth has run away with him, again. He considers apologizing, taking back the offense, when a thunder of laughter sounds at his side. Finduilas is roaring, doubled over, and then she grabs Turgon’s forearm to steady herself.

“Oh, that’s the best insult I have yet heard in this new life,” Finduilas says when she regains control of herself. “You, lord, curse as well as the very uncle you just mistook me for, when he loses his famed calm.” Then she turns to the seller, whose face has now hardened like baked clay: “We shall not be requiring your assistance further, lady. I thank you.”

Finduilas leads him away, sliding her hand into the bend of his elbow. Turgon glances over his shoulder for one last look at the jewel-seller: she still glares after them, and this prompts a laugh to leap from his throat. 

“It is good to meet you, Finduilas,” he says. “I did not know you were…” It has not become easy, yet, knowing how to speak of having been dead.

“Yes, I am. Returned to life.” Finduilas smiles gently as she turns to him, her earlier frown replaced by mirth. “The pleasure is all mine and please excuse my impatience; I am yet new to this business of living again. May I know your name, also, oh saviour from the terrors of Tirion’s fashion?”

“Oh, yes, I am sorry, I–” Turgon feels the heat in his cheeks, knows that he is making a fool of himself. He feels a child, sometimes, who has to learn the simplest things all over, such as how to place words together… what to call himself. What does he call himself, to this child of Beleriand, reborn in Aman, who never knew him as anything but — what did she know him as? How did Finrod speak to her of him? What did she think of him, the distant King of the Noldor who stayed ensconced in his mountain valley while Nargothrond fell to ruin? 

He settles for the name he carried for nigh five centuries. “I am Turgon." Finduilas’ brows arch: in surprise, joy, or fear, Turgon cannot tell, and he hastens to add: “But you may call me uncle, if you wish.”

Finduilas does not seem to share his doubts, the ruin of her fair city so far away that she barely remembers it. “The famed Turgon!” she cries heartily. “My uncle has barely spoken of anything else since your return. At last I meet you!” Then, Finduilas tosses herself into his embrace, arms tightening around his ribs. The top of her hair tickles Turgon’s cheek; she is of Idril’s height, almost to the inch. Turgon holds her against himself. It is the most at home he has felt since returning – strange as that may seem, embracing a kinswoman he never knew in his previous life. But there is something about Finduilas being both new and familiar that sets him at ease.

They pull apart, still smiling, and Turgon says: “If you are still looking for some adornment, I have just remembered a florist where my daughter – long ago – often went to pick out an assortment of exotic flowers brought up from the south. She would arrange them in a wreath herself.” Finduilas’ face brightens at what she hears and Turgon summons the courage to offer his help. “If you would like, I will take you there, for it is not easy to find.” 

Passingly, he wonders if the shop is still there at all, but does not speak this thought aloud. 

“Lead the way!” Finduilas agrees with a grin more golden than her fair tresses.

Turgon takes her hand, recalling the weight of his young daughter’s hand as he once led her through this crowded marketplace. He guides Finduilas from the bright bustle, towards the secluded, peaceful neighbourhood on the southern slope of Túna where he remembers a quaint little flower shop, down a narrow lane. As they walk in comfortable silence, warmth, as sweet as honeyed tea, fills his chest. 

He has made his first friend in this new Tirion.

Birthday Prompts

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Landlocked: A Rohan Secret Santa Ficlet

This is for you, @hastyhobbit !!! All of your prompts were intriguing, and I wish I could have done them all justice. I went with the prompt on the sea (what do the Rohirrim think of it? Do they have stories or legends about it?) and wrote you a Théodred and Éowyn story.

The fic is here on AO3 or below. It’s Théodred being the ultimate good cousin/big brother figure by giving teen Éowyn some life advice on a trip to the beach. Big thanks to @celeluwhenfics who read an early draft and whose wise and prompt feedback saved me many hours of staring at it!

Note that Storhaern is the Rohirric name for the ocean to the west of Middle Earth and just means “great sea.” In this story, Éowyn is 14, Éomer is 18, and Théodred is 31.

🐚🦀🐚🦀🐚🦀🐚🦀🐚🦀🐚🦀

Coast of the Storhaern, T.A. 3009

“Do you not want to feel the surf, cousin? Even just to wade a little right here at the shore?”

Théodred splashed his foot back and forth in the turquoise shallows, sending a light spray of water in Éowyn’s direction, but she barely looked up from the little shell she was turning idly in her hands. In fact, she had barely looked up since they arrived on the coast earlier that morning, plopping down a few yards from the water’s leading edge and keeping quietly to herself despite ��omer’s numerous entreaties to join him in the waves. She still sat in that same quietude, though she had moved steadily back as the advancing tide claimed more and more of the beach, and she held her silence even as Théodred walked over now to take a seat next to her in the coarse, warm sand.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, he squinted out at the rolling swell, an endless rippling expanse that blended gradually into the blue of the sky in the farthest distance. “They say that out there somewhere is the land where the elves go when they’re ready to leave Middle Earth,” he said, nodding toward the wide vista before them. “Eventually, they all feel the call and sail off to spend the rest of eternity beyond the horizon in a land that can’t be found by any mortal traveler.” He nudged her gently with his elbow. “What do you think of that?”

She glanced up at him just long enough to frown before returning her gaze to the shell in her hand. “It makes no difference to me. I don’t even know any elves.”

“Me neither. But I still like to think about it sometimes.” He stretched out his legs toward a small crest that swept up the sand to lap at his toes before disappearing back into the shoals, leaving clumps of colorful sea grass in its wake. “How might those other shores look? Do they have the same problems and sadnesses that we find here? Do the people there ever miss Middle Earth once they’ve sailed away from it? There are no answers in our songs and poems.”

She gave a listless shrug. “Thinking about all that serves no purpose. Even if that land exists, you’ll never see it.”

“You may be right.” He gave a mild smile and then arched a brow. “But then again, you may not. Lots of things happen in life that we don’t expect, and there’s no telling where you may end up.”

This time she merely sighed in response, and when it was clear that she would say nothing further they sat in silence, listening to the rhythmic washing of water back and forth over rock and sand and the echoing cries of the gulls and terns.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as they sat, marveling at how she had both the fresh face of inexperienced youth and the grave aspect of one who had already endured much. He had worked hard over the years to lighten those somber tendencies, to give her a place of loving stability and protection so that she could reclaim a little of the carefree childhood that she deserved, and his efforts had not been entirely in vain. He had looked on with pride as she slowly transformed from a mournful and subdued little girl into a bright and spirited young woman, full of enthusiasm and mischief and quick both to action and affection. But lately he could see this hard fought progress eroding, wearing gradually away like the boulders that lined the edge of the bay and broke the hardest of the surf. She laughed and smiled less frequently, and she had become prone to long periods of contemplative quiet, holding herself apart from people and things that she loved and reappraising it all with a sharper, more critical eye.

She had declined his many invitations to talk about what troubled her, leaving him only to speculate. But the timing of this change in her bearing — coinciding, as it did, with Éomer’s assumption of his first official duties — spoke volumes to Théodred. He had long perceived that she had the mind and mettle to match her brother deed for deed, though she had yet to voice the inclination and perhaps didn’t even believe it to be a thought worth putting into words.

It was partly for that reason that Théodred had brought her here in the first place. Away from the confines of her daily existence and the familiar plains and valleys whose every golden field and glittering stream she already knew by heart, he’d hoped that she would open up. He hoped she would allow herself to be as boundless and unpredictable as the foreign ocean that was now before her in all its glorious might, so much wider and more mysterious than their own land that was tightly bounded by mountains and rivers. He wanted her to see that her life need not always be the same, and she needn’t always be hemmed in by borders, real or imagined. She could carve a new path — he would help her to do it — if she only trusted herself enough to try.

He knew from experience that she could maintain a silence more stubbornly than anyone, and so after a time he ventured to speak again, putting a hand on her arm and squeezing lightly until she looked up at him at last.

“I’m glad that we’re here,” he said. “I know the sea doesn’t mean much to our people. Most Rohirrim will never even set eyes on it, nor feel the need to, and we get all that we require from the Snowbourn or the Entwash or the Adorn. But there’s a reason I wanted you to see it, cousin, and not just for its beauty. The world is a very big place, much bigger than you can imagine, and even the seemingly endless Storhaern is just one small part. It’s a reminder that there is much still to explore and learn and accomplish out there.”

She laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound with a bitter edge that seemed to speak unsaid words. Not for me. Her eyes flashed in the midday sun but a tremble in her lip tinged her bitterness with sorrow, and she turned aside from him, dropping the shell to the ground with a dull thud. “I’d rather be alone again, cousin, if you don’t mind. Just come and fetch me when Éomer is done having his fun.”

He stifled a small sigh of defeat and made ready to honor her request, but the flat, tired tone in her voice tugged at his heart like the tow of the bay’s undercurrent and he found that he couldn’t walk away without first trying to offer something that might be of comfort. As he groped for the right words, he stared down at the discarded shell, a pearlescent spiral of soft pink with bright whorls of red and orange, and picked it up, tracing a finger across its smooth, hard surface. A memory began to slowly emerge from the depths of his mind. A memory of another delicate shell in a hand much like Éowyn’s. A memory from long ago that told him exactly what he wanted to say now.

“May I share just one more thing, cousin? And then I promise that I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

She nodded without turning.

“When I was a small boy, I once found a shell just like this one that you’ve been toying with. We were visiting Grandmother’s family, and Aunt Théodwyn took me for a special day at the beach, just the two of us. We swam and watched the boats coming into the harbor, and she buried me in the sand until only my head and my feet were still visible.”

Her back was still to him, but he could tell by the slight tilt of her head that she was listening, caught as always by any reference to her mother.

“My favorite part was digging around in the tidal flats for clams and snails and other creatures hiding in the silt, and we discovered a small crab living in a little pink and orange shell. That shell was meant to protect him and give him a place to rest and grow, and it seemed to do its job well. But your mother told me that it wouldn’t always. As the crab got older and bigger, the shell would start to feel uncomfortable to him. It would restrain him from doing everything he wanted and needed to do, becoming a hindrance rather than a help. And so he would change it. When he felt ready, he’d crawl out and find a new one that suited him better and made him happy. He didn’t have to be trapped forever in the shell he started with. He just needed the courage to claim a different one.” He leaned over to place the shell back in front of her before hoisting himself to his feet. “Sounds pretty smart, if you ask me.”

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he straightened up and then left her as promised, heading out to the surf line where Éomer and a few of his guards were gleefully allowing themselves to be battered by the incoming tide. He took only one quick look back to see that she held the shell in her hand once more, staring at it with new intensity, and when she quietly slipped it into her pocket, he smiled.

[clovariia]

"someone new"

💝 wendy testaburger x kenny mccormick (kendy)

💝 1.4k words

💝 i wrote this fic and drew this art for my wonderful girlfriend @lesbuoyant's birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RHYME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥳🎂🎉

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51529138

[swampthingking]

andrew’s definitely gotten in trouble with his pr manager for tweeting things along the lines of:

“no mania inducing medication will compare to the euphoria i will feel the day donald trump drops dead”

[giddlygoat]

my brother can make me laugh without moving at all. he can make me laugh on command, just by existing, and there is no physical tell or indication that it is about to happen. it’s like he can will me to laugh and i will. of course we’re not telepathic, but we do speak in unison sometimes. we improvise like no one’s business. we could fool anyone into believing we are psychically linked. when i try to explain it, i sound silly saying it out loud, but i really CAN tell what he’s thinking. we exchange so much information just with a look. he can make me cry laughing and he doesn’t even have to move

[spacedlexi]

it honestly frustrates me when i see people reduce the ericsons cast down to "just some teens in the woods" acting like theyre no different than any other group of lone teenagers from other existing properties and treating them like an overused trope

it is sooo important to acknowledge the "troubled youth" aspect of the whole equation. theyre not just some random teens in the woods clem stumbles across. these kids were abandoned by their families for their various "difficulties" and fucked up by The System before the outbreak even began. and then once zombies started roaming the streets their familes never came back for them and the adults that were in charge of taking care of them just left them there to rot in that old boarding school (except for ms martin who was like their lee 🥺 the only person who ever saw them as the scared traumatized kids they were and died protecting them)

the whole aspect of them already being fucked up by the adults that controlled their lives is like.....kind of important when discussing the whole "delta is stealing kids to force them to fight in a war they have no real part in and want nothing to do with" aspect of the season. and its important when comparing them to clem and her journey of also suffering at the hands of the adults around her forcing her to become self reliant. AND its important when discussing the "just trying to build a safe home (and future) worth fighting for in this world that wants them dead" aspect of the season as well

these kids were forced to come together to survive. and a Lot of them didnt... theyre the only family they have left and you can tell that even when they argue with each other theyre still a close knit group who looks out for each other. theyre a Real family before clem even gets there (and its why what really happened with the twins and brody and marlon hits them all so especially hard)

all of this is what REALLY makes ericsons such a perfect home for clem. its a Real community of her True peers. theyre not Just teens. they mightve had a layer of safety clem never had by at least having walls to keep them safe. and having the benefit of the school being hard to find. its the only reason theyre still alive when clem shows up. but theyre also some of the only people who can Truly understand where clem and aj are coming from. and its why it hurts so much when they vote to kick them out. but its also partially why she merges back into the fold so easily when she returns. plus the fact that shes Really the only one who has any idea what shes doing. shes their rock and she makes them feel safe because underneath it all theyre still just those scared traumatized kids ("EVERYONE is scared, clem..." vi was Definitely including herself in that 'everyone'), and on some level, so is clem

they saved clementines life. and she saved theirs. "the school was supposed to help them with their trauma, now they help each other" its about the LOVE the COMMUNITY the SUPPORT!!!! and thats the shit that makes good zombie media honestly 👌

[caeslxys]

"How could Imogen question the gods when they brought Laudna back" by this same logic she could question why the Matron allowed Delilah to maintain a hold on Laudna for so long or, perhaps more immediately relevant, why the Changebringer would choose to let Laudna be the one to die so. you know. there's room for nuance. Imogen's not the bad guy for correctly insinuating that the pantheon can hurt (or choose indifference) as much as they can help.

[mothbug]

you show me a tarot card at this point and i WILL go ‘oh like [revue starlight character]!’ they should never have done this to me

[madlori]

On being an older fangirl

I was probably 10 years old when I first conceived of what was, looking back, fanfiction. Me and my best friend would lie in bed together on sleepovers and I'd make up stories about what happened after the end of our favorite book, "The Westing Game." She'd ask me for more stories, and I'd tell her more, inventing them as I went along. "Then what?" she'd say.

I was 14 when I went to my first convention. I had discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was 1987, and my youth pastor was a huge Trekkie. He took me to a one-day crappy Creation con, but it was amazing to me. I met Nichelle Nichols. My dad showed me the Trek movies. He and I watched TNG together.

When I went to college in 1991, my dad used to videotape TNG episodes onto VHS tapes and mail them to me, so I could keep watching (I didn't have TV in my dorm room).

By the time I was a senior, we had Trek watching parties in the dorm lounge, where the TV had cable. Star Trek: Voyager had started up, and I wrote a column about it for the college newspaper. I joined a mailing list about it, with people in it that I still know today.

I got my first computer that could go online in 1995. I was on newsgroups. I discovered Doctor Who. I went to Trek conventions where we still passed around fanzines containing fic and art and smutty K/S fan creations.

Then it was Harry Potter. Then there were websites. Then there was Geocities, where we could all make our own little spots. We organized them into webrings. We talked on newsgroups and mailing lists. There were fanfic archives. Then there was fanfiction.net.

Then...there was LiveJournal. And we could interact in entirely new ways. We could form communities, and debate things, and fight over canon, and get into ship wars. On LiveJournal, I met my best friend of 22 years. I was in her wedding. She's my sister of the heart (which is what she calls me).

Then there was Tumblr. And Twitter. And now there's Discord. But it's all the same.

I am the same.

I am still that little girl who made up fanfiction in her head to entertain her best friend. I am still the one who was amazed to find communities on the internet - which was so new, so raw, so uncommodified - where others like me could meet. I found there people to meet in real life.

I am still that twentysomething going to her first major convention, being told that someone loved my fic, being asked about my writing process.

I am still that thirtysomething watching something I wrote blow up. Seeing friends from other fandoms find me in new ones, finding them there, too. Forgetting which fandom I know someone from, because I've known them for twenty years.

I still know some of the people who created those early websites, those mailing lists, those archives. I still meet people in new fandoms who say "Oh, I read your fic in [fandom] fifteen years ago!" There's no feeling quite like having someone remember something you wrote for that long. Or meeting someone whose fic meant a lot to YOU, or who you talked with on rec.arts.drwho.creative in 1997.

Aging in fandom is a gift. Being middle-aged in fandom is a joy. Having people who still read what I write and ask "Then what?" is a blessing.

It breaks my heart that so many people see it as something to be ashamed of, when it is one of my life's greatest gifts.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David Tennant interview at the British LGBT Awards, June 2024 (x)

Int: You being an ally to the community isn't something new. You've been doing it, but recently you've obviously really stepped up for trans and non-binary people in a time that's so, so needed. What made you do that?

David: I don't know that I feel like I've done anything that I wouldn't just sort of be normally doing. I mean, it's for me it's just common sense that there's there should be any suggestion that people aren't allowed to live the life they want to live and and to be who they want to be with and to express themselves wholeheartedly. I mean, as long as you aren't hurting anybody else, everybody else just needs to fucking butt out. I don't really understand why...

Int: ...it's controversial.

David: Yeah, there is and the thing... the thing, if there's something that's particularly sobering and depressing, it's that certain debates are being weaponized by certain elements of the political class, often for no... it seems it's not ideological so much as opportunistic. And I just think that's pretty disgusting, really.

Int: I couldn't agree more. What message would you like to send out to trans youth?

David: Please don't feel like you're not loved and that you're not accepted and that you're not... you know, most people in the world are good and kind and just want you to be able to be who you are. Most people in the world don't really care. I mean... you know what I mean?

Int: We're all narcissistic.

David: Exactly. Everyone's so self obsessed that really, the sort of noise that comes from a certain area of the press and of the political class is... it's a minority. It really is. And please don't let that make you feel diminished or dissuaded or discouraged, because, you know, you just... you have to be allowed to be yourself, and you are, and you are yourself and you must thrive and flourish, and we're all here for it.

Int: Amazing. I think, yeah, it's so important .I think sometimes it feels like there's so many people, but it is a minority. It's such a minority.

David: It's a tiny bunch of little whinging fuckers that are on the wrong side of history and they'll all go away soon.

Int: Like what happened with gay people 20 years ago.

David: When I was a kid, when I was a kid, exactly. You know, I was at school when Clause 28 came in and it all felt like being gay was something to be terrified of. And gay men in particular were demonised as paedophiles and now that just feels historic and ludicrous and, I mean, I don't see all those... all those battles aren't won, but we're in a very, very different place. And I feel like.I feel like history is on a progressive trajectory and it might get knocked sideways now and again by people for all sorts of reasons, which are often quite selfish and quite, as I say, not coming from a place of any sort of genuine belief system, but other than a place of opportunism. And that's something that we... I hope that in 20 years time, we're talking about, you know, these culture wars as something of the past.

Int: I believe we will. I'm a huge Doctor Who fan, so.

David: Oh, good, me too!

Int: You are my Doctor.

David: Oh, thank you very much.

Int: But recently, obviously, you came back for the 60th anniversary and you got to work with Yasmin Finney.

David: Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Int: What was it like working with her?

David: Oh, she's brilliant. She's fantastic. Yeah. And she's in the show again now, she's back in it, so that's fantastic to see. She's lovely, talented, cool as a cucumber, articulate, brilliant. I learned a lot from her as an actor and also as someone who, you know, who's become a sort of de facto activist just because of who she is and where she is, and she becomes a sort of symbol of hope, and she's wonderful.

[thethief1996]

I can't stop thinking about the news out of Palestine. Israel is sieging al Shifa hospital. Videos of people's limbs being severed off are haunting (graphic video tw). The hospital has ran out of fuel and 39 babies in incubators are fending for their lives by themselves, because Israel has stationed snipers around the hospital and is shooting all medical crew that walks into their sight.

First, the narrative was Israel would never bomb hospitals. Now, the hospitals are Hamas bases. Then, we respect journalists. Now, we have a fucking kill list of journalists because they are Hamas collaborators. First, we are not letting fuel in until the hostages are released. Now, we are not accepting the hostages back because that would stop our ground invasion and let Hamas win. And I could go on about every single lie they're making up. If you look up "Hamas rape" on google, the first link leads to Times of Israel saying Israel has found no forensic evidence of sexual violence, and only one eyewitness testimony out of 3.5k people attending the rave. If you Google "Hamas beheaded babies" the top links say they have no evidence for the claim besides word of mouth from extremist soldiers. Israeli extremists think about the ugliest goriest scene they can make out in their sick heads, tell that to a international journalist and they run away with it like it's gospel.

And children are being killed in the name of these lies. Thousands are being displaced in images that remind me of the pictures of Tantura 75 years ago, with their hands up so the tanks don't shoot them. Amputees are leaving the hospitals in wheelchairs hours after their surgeries because they are being shot at. Elders who survived the Nakba on 48 are having to walk towards Southern Gaza on foot (imagine walking from one end of your city to the other on foot), displaced again. People are cheering for the haunting images of white phosphorus bombs being dropped over Gaza. Gazan workers who were arrested in the West Bank are being thrust back into the bombings wearing numbered labels.

This is not normal. We are seeing the early stages of the settler colonial genocide of an indigenous population. Native leaders who have visited Gaza say its refugee camps look eerily like reservations. We can stop this. For the first time we are able to see wide scale accounts from the hands of the people suffering the genocide, and Israel is so scared of it they have cut all communications in Gaza.

This is our litmus test. I think we have never seen more clearly, with Palestine, Armenia, Congo and Sudan how colonialism has made our world a rotten place to live in.

The South African apartheid collapsed due to boycotts. We have to do everything in our power to stop Israel's hegemony. Even talking to a group of friends about Palestine changes the status quo. There's no world where we can live peacefully if Israel accomplishes their goals.

Keep yourself updated and share Palestinian voices. Muna El-Kurd said every tweet is like a treasure to them, because their voices are repressed on social media and even on this very app. Make it your action item to share something about the Palestinian plight everyday. Here are some resources:

Al Jazeera, Anadolu Agency, Mondoweiss

Boycott Divest Sanction Movement

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing protests and direct action against weapons factories across the US

Mohammed El-Kurd (twitter / instagram)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Motaz Azaiza (instagram) - reporting directly from Gaza.

Hind Khudary - reporting directly from Gaza. Her husband and daughter moved South to run from the tanks but she stayed behind to record the genocide. The least we can do is not let her calls fall on deaf ears.

You can participate in boycotts wherever you are in the world, through BDS guidelines. Don't be overwhelmed by gigantic boycott lists. BDS explicitly targets only a few brands which have bigger impact. You can stop consuming from as many brands as you want, though, and by all means feel free to give a 1 star review to McDonalds, Papa John, Pizza Hut, Burger King and Starbucks. Right now, they are focusing on boycotting the following:

Carrefour, HP, Puma, Sabra, Sodastream, Ahava cosmetics, Israeli fruits and vegetables

Push for a cultural boycott - pressure your favorite artist to speak out on Palestine and cancel any upcoming performances on occupied territory (Lorde cancelled her gig in Israel because of this. It works.)

If you can, participate in direct action or donate.

Palestine Action works to shut down Israeli weapons factories in the UK and USA, and have successfully shut down one of their firms in London.Some of the activists are going on trial and are calling for mobilizing on court.

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing direct actions to stop the shipping of wars to Israel. Follow them.

Educate yourself. Read into Palestinian history and the occupation. You can't common sense people out of decades of propaganda. If your arguments crumble when a zionist brings up the "disengagement of Gaza", you have to learn more.

Read Decolonize Palestine. They have 15 minute reads that concisely explain the occupation (and its colonial roots) and debunk popular myths, including pinkwashing.

Read on Palestine. Here's an amazing masterpost.

Verso Book Club is giving out free books on Palestine (I personally downloaded Ten Myths about Israel by Ilan Pappe. If you still believe in the two states solution, this book by an Israeli professor debunks it).

Call your representatives. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works, even more if you live in a country that funds genocide.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls, here's a document that autosends emails to your representatives and here's a toolkit by Ceasefire in Gaza NOW!

FOR PEOPLE IN EUROPE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace targeting the European Parliament and one specific for almost all countries in Europe, including Germany, Ireland, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, Netherlands, Greece, Norway, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Finland, Austria, Belgium Romania and Ukraine

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRALIA: Here's a toolkit by Stand With Palestine

FOR PEOPLE IN CANADA: Here's a toolkit by Indepent Jewish Voices for Canada

Join a protest. Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

Another global calendar (go to the instragram of the organizers to confirm your protest)

USA calendar

Australia calendar

Feel free to add more.