#when they could just. talk about how they like the thing without that qualification? and I feel like...
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musical-chick-13 · 1 year ago
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I'm the LAST person to suggest that you have to preface every single comment you make about a character/fictional relationship/etc. you like with a reminder that you Know™ it's pRoBLeMaTiC, but I DO question what the point of acting genuinely for real like there were no problems is.
#I don't even mean in a 'what would it look like if this relationship were healthy' or 'what if this character were a good person'#because I think that's interesting to explore and I have several things I'm working on with elements of that#but I genuinely will hear people go 'there ARE no flaws in this thing' with their whole chest in a completely serious manner#when they could just. talk about how they like the thing without that qualification? and I feel like...#...idk. just because *I* am someone who enjoys horrible characters and deranged unhealthy fictional relationships#I feel like it's a disservice to act like there were never any faults or problems or [insert applicable noun here] at all? it gets rid of#the narrative complexity that's present#I was talking to long-distance best friend last night and I went on a rant about how I wouldn't like jaime as much if he actually WAS as#Super For Real Actually A Completely Good Person Who Was Never Flawed In Any Way as some people act like he is.#it's BECAUSE he does shitty things and isn't A Super Good Person™ that makes him particularly interesting#if you want to imagine a version of this story where he doesn't act horribly and is a 100% Stand Up Guy then go for it you don't need to#justify that by saying that that is completely for real without exception who he actually is in canon?#(this wasn't even the example that brought this on. he's one of many MANY examples.)#and you know I could write a story (I won't) where like. idk altena for example. handles her issues and doesn't become The Antagonist™#where she gets therapy and ends up with a fulfilling life where she participates in society as a more well-adjusted person.#but again it would be an INCREDIBLE disservice to the way this character (a complicated fascinating character) is written to act like#she was Always Like That or that this turn of events was intended by the story or that She Genuinely Never Did Anything Wrong Actually#it's less 'oh people are having sympathy for [xyz] in a story context that I think isn't merited' & it's more 'acting like this is the way#the story was all along and the way it was meant to be interpreted all along is a misreading of the text and I don't think that's fair'#mel's media criticism
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faaun · 2 years ago
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WARNING: The penalty for trespassing on the railway is £1000.
#here is the story of two researchers and one 0 on the truth table. here is how you almost tied up my arm in a belt#because you lost your tourniquet and neither of you could find my veins. did it feel good to get it off your chest#did it feel cathartic to talk about sin? in a room full of policymakers and experts i shook hands with a theoretical#physicist creating breathing metal. we talked about annual ruination. there is a boy in gold earrings#and two strangers growing a fake hologram with their minds. you discover you like wine and that you are#perhaps only a little bit cutthroat. here is a teapot full of tequila and a glance a curling of the lips that renders you [0]#first on the index and quickly overlooked. you want to be loved? here is the difficult bit. girl teaches you how to speak mandarin. still#too drunk to find your veins but here i want to be loved anyway. in a shocking turn of events the thing that keeps me alive#projected through my lovers noise cancelling headphones causes a slow peak in the 10 millisecond span i process#falling lights and yet increases accuracy to almost 87.5%. is it magic or are you just discussing your downfall?#the truth is have no skill or qualification to my name. i want you to listen to me. he said you will be a king. he said if a bomb#fell on this room everything that matters would be over. YOU WANNA LEARN ABOUT LOVE YOU SELFISH FUCKER? YOU SHOULD HAVE CHOSEN ME#WHEN YOU WERE 15. THE LOVE IS GONE IF YOU HAVE TO ASK IT. hes the alaskan#WHEN YOU WERE 15. THE LOVE IS GONE IF YOU HAVE TO ASK IT. i am the alaskan malmute under the dinner table begging for scraps#in a place im not supposed to be. in the field it was me with the drumsticks her (the world piano champion and the researcher and the#the machine gun) with the 巴乌 him with the guitar this is outside of london this is the ex presidents ex advisor telling you to give up#this is your brain and this is the day after doom. this is her washing the EEG conductive gel out of your hair in the restaurant bathroom#this is the skill to possess guilt without carrying shame.
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22ayla21 · 18 days ago
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👀 I have been Reading all of your amphoreus x reader with their child
I want to request a headcanon when fem reader is still pregnant with their child (separate for all amphoreus male character)
Pregnancy
How would they behave during their wife's pregnancy.
From the Author: while writing this, I came up with two more ideas. How would they react to the baby's first kick in the womb and how would they talk to the baby at night while the wife was sleeping 😋.
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• He's not the type to run around her with a duck face, but his care is evident in his actions: checking that she's eating enough, making sure she's not overtired, subtly adjusting her conditions, even if he pretends it's an accident. If she says she's fine, he looks at her as if scanning her. He doesn't argue, but he does things his own way.
• He never shows it, but inside he's torn apart by anxiety. This world is cruel, and pregnancy makes her vulnerable. He's not used to her being like this, and he hates the thought that he can't protect her from everything at once. Sometimes at night, he just sits next to her, watching her breathe, listening to her every move.
• Where he could get irritated by little things before, his patience has increased exponentially. If she gets angry over trifles, let her get angry. If she wants something strange, he will keep quiet and bring it. He understands that it is not easy, even if he does not say it out loud.
• Doctors, servants, even random guests - he controls everyone. No one should bother her without a reason. If someone causes him even a shadow of doubt, this person simply "will not be around". If someone dares to say something disrespectful, even as a joke, this person will quickly regret it.
• When they are alone, his roughness disappears. He touches her carefully, as if he is afraid to hurt her. He does not say too much, but his gestures speak for him: he straightens the pillows, wraps her in a blanket, runs his fingers along her wrist when he thinks she does not notice. Sometimes he puts his hand on her stomach, silently feeling the movements of the child. At such moments, his gaze becomes softer than ever.
• He does not say loud words about the future, but every day he makes a silent promise to himself: to protect her. To protect their child. To protect their family. And if someone ever dares to threaten their happiness, that person will disappear faster than he has time to realize his mistake.
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• As soon as he finds out about the pregnancy, he immediately takes control of the situation. He collects all the information he can, consults with the best doctors (and checks their qualifications himself), develops a plan for nutrition, rest and physical activity for his wife. Everything is clear, logical and thought out.
• He is not the type to fuss over her as if she were a fragile artifact, but if she gets up too abruptly, her face changes or she winces from slight discomfort - he immediately notices it. And although he does not panic, his keen gaze shows that he is recording every detail.
• He tries to create the perfect balanced diet for her. But if in the middle of the night she wants something absurd, for example, "spicy with honey and salted nuts", he will first raise an eyebrow and then silently go cook.
• Although he behaves coldly, sometimes at night he sits next to her, watching her sleep and thinking about all the possible scenarios. If something suddenly goes wrong, he acts immediately, not allowing panic to take over. Although he is not very emotional, his hand instinctively falls on her stomach, especially when he thinks about the child. Sometimes he does it unconsciously, and if his wife notices, he simply chuckles and pretends that nothing happened.
• If someone dares to say or do something that could harm his wife or unborn child, he instantly turns into a person not to be trifled with. His voice becomes colder, his gaze more dangerous.
• He may look confident and calm, but in reality his mind is constantly analyzing risks, making plans for any complications. Only his cat, curled up on his lap, sometimes senses his tension.
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• When he first learns that he is going to be a father, he falls silent. It is not out of fear or doubt, but simply that his life is about to change. Then he slowly takes her hand, squeezes her fingers lightly, and looks at her with such depth in his eyes, as if vowing to protect both her and their child.
• Phainon has always been caring, but now it goes to extremes. He does not allow her to lift even light things, makes her rest more, and carefully monitors what she eats. If she says she is tired, he immediately offers her a seat, and he does everything for her.
• He reads books, studies medical texts, consults the best healers, so that he knows how to make his wife's pregnancy as comfortable as possible. If someone laughs at his serious approach, he only frowns: "I do not intend to take this lightly."
• When his tastes begin to change, he accepts his fate with dignity. If she wants something exotic or completely ridiculous, he will find it. If in the middle of the night she asks for something unusual, he just silently puts on a coat and leaves, and an hour later returns with the catch.
• If she has sudden mood swings, he tries to stay calm. He knows that these are hormones, but sometimes he just looks at her with slight bewilderment, especially if five minutes ago she was happy, and now she is ready to burst into tears. At such moments, he just hugs her and waits for the storm to subside.
• Although he seems calm, anxiety rages inside him. He is afraid for her health, for the future of the child, for their new life. But he does not show it, because he believes that his duty is to be her support.
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inkskinned · 1 year ago
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no, but really, we need to talk about the casual objectification that has become the fallback discourse of the internet: if you're pretty and dressed nicely, you're a slut. and if you're even vaguely outside of their body standard, you're fucking disgusting.
too-frequently, people position sex workers as being "the problem". they sneer you're addicted to pornography, you don't know what a real woman looks like. but real women are in pornography. the real bodies on display are not the issue here: the issue is that other people feel extremely confident when commenting on someone's physique.
2000's super-thin is slowly worming its way back into the public ideal. recently i saw someone get told to "go for a run", despite the fact she was on the thinner side of average. not that it would ever be appropriate to say that: but it's kind of like sticker shock when you see it. people think that is fat? holy shit. do they just have no idea about things?
but what are you going to do about it? that's the problem, right. because chances are - you're a normal person. we can say normalize carrying fat on your body, but we are not the billion-dollar diet industry. we are not the billion-dollar fashion industry. we are just, like. people. who are trying to make content on the internet, without being treated shittily.
as someone who has been on both sides of things: you are treated better when you are thin and pretty. this is statistically correct. i am not saying that you cannot be bullied for being thin; i'm saying there are objective institutional biases against certain bodytypes. there are videos of men and women who lost weight all saying: i now know for a fact exactly how much worse you're treated. in the comments, some asshole inevitably says something akin to you deserved to be dehumanized when you were fat.
which means that ... the easiest thing to do is be pretty and thin. it is the path of least resistance, because of course it is, because any time you post a picture of yourself without a thigh gap, someone immediately comments something like you need to try a diet.
the other half is also dehumanizing though, huh, just in a different way. when i put on makeup and nice clothes, i am told i slept my way to the top as a professional. do you know how many women in STEM have told me they purposefully dress to "unimpress" because they already struggle to be taken seriously and if they're ever considered pretty - it for some reason takes away from their authority.
so they make it seem like it's your fault. you, existing in a body - it's your fault! if you didn't want shitty comments, don't have a body. they position us against each other like chess pieces; vying for male attention we don't even need.
and i can be an authority on this unless you think i'm fat and unattractive. when i am pretty and thin, i'm an activist. when i am just a normal person who makes a good point: i am immediately dismissed. nobody fucking believes you if you're not seen as attractive. you literally lose value. you cease to exist.
but the whole time, it feels like - is anyone actually grounded the fuck in reality? the line of "pretty and thin" keeps shifting. nobody seems to understand what "a normal weight" even looks like, because it's not something that exists - you cannot tell a person's health by looking at their body. even if you think you could tell that, even if you're sure a person is dangerously overweight - people are not your dolls. they do not need to be dressed up or displayed properly to soothe your aesthetics. you aren't concerned for them, you're stealing their agency. you don't get to say if they're "allowed" to take pictures and post them on the internet - you don't get to tell them how to exist.
people hide behind "the obesity epidemic" without any actual qualifications. they crow things about "normalizing unhealthiness".
but it's bullshit. i have visible abs. there is a pair of parallel lines on my body, even when i'm relaxed; where my obliques meet my abdominal wall. i am proud of this because it means i'm strong, because i overcame an eating disorder only to be ripped as fuck. it is genetic and physical luck that i even get any definition, i'm pleased as punch.
but it does mean that my abdominal wall sticks out a little bit. the other day i posted a video of myself dancing, and, for a moment, my shirt slipped. you could see a little bit of my stomach. i was cartwheeling to the floor. moments before this, i'd had my foot over my head.
a guy slid into my DMs. a row of vomiting emojis prefaced: you should really lose some weight before you think about dancing.
i stared at it for a long time. there was a time when i would have been triggered by this, where it would have encouraged me to starve myself. i would have ignored the fact i'm flexible, agile, good at jumping: i would have lost the weight for a stranger's passing comment. i would have found myself and my body fucking disgusting.
and for what? to please what? because why? so that he can exist in this world without an unchallenged eyeball? what would my self-hatred even accomplish? usually i write paragraphs. obviously. on this particular occasion, in this body i've been at war with for ages: i just felt exhausted.
it shouldn't be even worth saying. it shouldn't be hard to explain. all of this emotional turmoil when he cannot even comprehend the most basic truth: i am not an object on display for him.
#spilled ink#writeblr#warm up#like if im getting fatshamed. babe......... wake up#is there fat on my body? yes :)#btw this behavior wouldn't be okay even if I WAS overweight!!! that is my point!!!#it is both that people have no idea what weight is supposed to look like#and even if they DID... they do not seem to understand that PEOPLE ARE NOT DOLLS#YOU DO NOT GET TO TELL THEM HOW TO EXIST#if you respond anything akin to ''but raquel there IS an obesity epidemic''#you're blocked and reported.#go fucking DONATE TO A FOOD BANK THEN. volunteer in a food desert. start a free fitness program#GO GET A DEGREE AS A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL AND PRACTICE IN NUTRITION IN UNDERPRIVILEDGED LOCATIONS#FIGURE OUT HOW TO LOWER FOOD COSTS. FIGURE OUT HOW TO NORMALIZE AND STANDARDIZE#ACCESS TO FARM-FRESH FOOD. PROVIDE ACTUAL FREE ACCESS TO OUTSIDE ACTIVITIES#FIGURE OUT HOW TO TEACH PEOPLE HEALTHY CHOICE MAKING WHILE ALSO LOWERING THE COST OF MEALS.#THE AVERAGE GROCERY BILL OF THE AMERICAN CITIZEN HAS QUADRUPILED IN THE LAST YEAR.#SHUT. THE FUCK. UP!!!!!!!!!#you don't want to help these people!!!!!#you want to bully them but still feel like a good person!#you want to be justified in your hatred of an entire CLASS of people!!!#you don't give a fuck about how it makes them feel!!!!#you care ONLY about whether or not YOU get to VIRTUE SIGNAL that YOURE so thin and pretty!!!!#it is BECAUSE of people like you#and the fact you tolerate fatphobia - BECAUSE of that normalization. that men like the one who called me fat#feel like they can get away with it.#bc there's a line for you where you WOULD be okay with it. where if i WASNT thin you'd be okay with it.#which means the line can always be pushed in a certain direction. and it's always going to appeal to male aesthetics.#''well you didn't deserve it'' maybe fucking NOBODY does babe. maybe we should just all agree not to comment on ppls bodies!!
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yestrnight · 2 years ago
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how much do I have to pay for svarog sex 😊
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ DILF ROBOT FUCKERZ !
FROM: svarog / afab! reader
SUBJECT: the underground of belobog is a cruel, dark place where it's a competition of the fittest. sweet, little clara is lucky to have svarog as her guardian, but you're even luckier to be able to... heh, get to know him ;)
MESSAGE: nothing to pay but ur dignity babygurl 🥴
( uh me and my doujinshi writing ass at it again; reader is a SL— /svarog counterattack/; overstimulation; robot fucking… duh; svarog is treated as an oversized vibrator cuz that is what he is!!! )
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you're not exactly sure when clara pulled you into her little family dynamic with svarog— the svarog, leader of the vagrants, protector of the underworld, and for the longest time, the barrier between upper and lower belobog. sure, you liked telling her the children's stories you've read from natasha's bookshelves, and accompanying her around as her personal bodyguard while she looked through scraps to find supplies for the vagrants.
but you feel like, even as clara tugs you by the sleeve, that stepping foot into the svarog's lair is a biiit too much.
your cold sweat and pale face as the large, rickety gates swing open for clara (and you) says all that needed to be said. your stiff body follows clara as she pulls you inside. "um, clara…" you start, your shaky voice betraying any kind of macho you try to summon. "i don't think this is a good idea… i'm from wildfire, you know? svarog and our relationship is a bit… y'know."
clara's a smart kid. of course she knows. but she looks up at you, as innocent and hopeful as she can be, and pleads with you. "it's okay!" she says. "i've told mr. svarog all about you before! in fact, he's the one who told me to invite you, just so he can properly thank you!"
"h-he did?!" is all you could yelp before she and her traffic light perkins whisked you away to their home.
a few moments later, you're face to face with the big bad robot himself, his lone red eye peering down at you seven foot above. you gulp, clenching onto clara's soft hand for support. "h-hello, sir svarog…" your voice cracks. "nice to meet you…?"
"my data says that meetings between parents and their children's educators are common between human life forms," his deep and rusty voicebank echoes throughout the room. "a parent-teacher conference, they call it."
you shrink further into your uniform. "um… i'm not really her teacher…" your voice is so small even you yourself can barely hear it.
"that is obvious," he states. "according to your data, you lack the qualifications for being a professional educator. nevertheless, you've taught clara a great many things. she is… happy, whenever she talks about you. i hope you continue to spend time with her."
"i told you!" clara leaps up with joy and clings to your arm. her smile is so great that it gives you a literal heartache as it squeezes from how cute she is. "mr. svarog likes you!"
you swear svarog's eye glints, and you double swear his gaze is directed at the red bandanna wrapped around your arm. you'd give him the staredown too, if you were brave enough, that is. after all, what kind of robot needed pants anyway?
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that robot needed pants because he needed to hide the luggage he was packing underneath. because if he had that out in the open, you swear any of your cowardice would have evaporated and you'd climb that big hunk of metal like a tree just to get that branch inside of you.
AHEM! what you meant to say was… oh, whatever, no use saving the very little dignity you have left. 
the first time you drool over him is when he protects you from the cold. it was a wildfire expedition gone wrong and you underestimated a rogue robot, and the vagrant camp was so unfriendly without clara around. frostbite made you delirious, so any sort of fear vanished when you yelled through the rusty gates for some sort of savior.
only when the world begins to go dark do you feel a giant metal hand cup your back, and your feet swing in the air. when you finally come to, it's by the crackling fireplace. the world is still blurry when you sit up and see svarog’s hulking body looming over you. in other circumstances, you might have run away as soon as you can, but the near frostbite has made you delirious, and… well, svarog’s looking too sexy for a piece of scrap metal.
“ngh, ah ♡~” svarog’s one metal hand is large enough to encompass your whole lower body. he cups it as gently as a warforged robot can, and he bullies your throbbing clit with his finger while you’re left shaking under him. his red eye glints as he observes your expressions– drooling and eyes rolled back, a happy grin on your face as you rub back against his finger. “m– more~ more please!” his cupped hand bounces you up and down, and you squeal in delight as it heightens the stimulations even further. 
“y– you can vibrate, right?” you gasp when svarog rubs your clit juuust right, and you pleadingly look up at him with tears in your eyes. “th– that makes sense… robots all– ngh! r-right there, please– vibrate, don’t they? jus’ comes with the machines ‘n all that, hehe~”
you’re quite the talkative one, aren’t you? svarog isn’t exactly used to this, given that all the architects and elites he served in the past were so quiet and distant while they used him. “what exactly are you insinuating, [your name]?”
“oh, come on!” you pout frustratedly. “v-vibrate for me, will ya? i need more! this isn’t cutting it for me anymore– a-aaH ♡ yes yesyesyesyesyes! right there, oh my gosh, right there!!”
his data tells him that you’re at the height of ecstasy as he watches you arch your back and kick your feet. your fucked out laughs as you continue to beg for more is the sign that tells him that he’s doing a good job, and putting one and one together, he increases the vibration setting and you devolve into orgasmic screams.
“ah ♡ ah ♡! ahhh ♡♡ wh-what the fuck, svaroggg!!! ♡” the vibration on your poor, swollen clit is too much as he continues to rock you up and down while pressing the vibrating finger down. “i– i never told you to– ahh ♡– increase ittttt!”
“is this not necessary?” svarog questions. he’s so used to cold and unflinching ‘clients’ that he’s not exactly sure what to do with a human as expressive and loud as you. “records tell me that further simulation will bring you to what humans call an ‘orgasm.’”
“i’m, nggh, i’ve already orgasmed, you idiot!” you sob as you flail your legs, squirming and kicking as if that will loosen his grasp on you. “oh, ooooh~ t-too much!”
ah. so this is an orgasm. while this does not fit the algorithmic standards for the measurement of beauty, svarog surmises that this is ‘beautiful’ to him. it’s his reward for a job well-done, as all worthy leaders give to their soldiers. “apologies, [your name], but i fear that my past experiences have not given me sufficient data on what constitutes an ‘orgasm.’ clara adores you very much, and i do not wish to strain you at the expense of her anxiety. so, if you would allow it—”
something pushes at the tip of your hole, and you widen your eyes when you look and discover that he’s slowly bullying his way into you. you grip his metal arms for safety and stare at him with wide eyes.
“if all goes according to plan, you should have nothing to worry about.” you don’t know how to feel comforted when he says it in that apathetic-sounding (yet super hot) voice of his. “human orifices can be trained to take in objects larger than them– i should have you sitting on my… cock, as they call it, at the end of the day.”
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ponyosmom35 · 1 year ago
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welcome to hell
Simon Ghost Riley x reader
Liability series, chapter one!
synopsis: reader is transferred to a new base as a medic. upon meeting the Lieutenant she realizes that she may have gotten in over her head.
warnings: cursing, ghost is rude
Link to full Liability series!
https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share
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“What do you mean we’ve got a new medic on the base?” Ghost asks as Price slides her file across the desk. He picks it up and reads through it quickly, his eyes skimming the qualifications, more the lack thereof. “What the fuck is this Price”
“Miss y/l/n is a young woman whose been sent here by Laswell. She’s good at her job, she’ll do just fine here”
“Shes not military”
“No she’s not”
“Then why is she here?” he questions once more
“Between you and I, Laswell sent her in because her sister is training for 141”
“Emma” Ghost realizes as he puts together their last names. 
“In order to get Emma here, Laswell had to pull some strings. One of the requirements was the transfer of her younger sister”
“Its a waste of space!” he states, crossing his arms in annoyance “what good is a medic who has no military background or field experience? Sounds like a fucking liability to me”
“She’s strictly on base, she won’t be in the field”
“So I say again, what’s the point of her? We need medics for the field! She’s only 26!” 
“Ghost I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. When Laswell gives me a transfer I deal with it, just like you’re going to listen to me when I say that this girl is more than welcome here. If she’s the price we pay for Emma then so be it” Price says, taking the file out of his hands. He nods to the door and Ghost shakes his head before exiting the office. He was livid, just one more mouth to feed. One more person he’d have to worry about. He didn’t care if this girl was the best in the world, without military or field experience she was as good as useless to him. He fucking hated useless people. 
He walks through the base angrily, searching for Soap and Gaz to inform them. He stops dead in his tracks at the sight of Emma with her arm wrapped around a much shorter woman’s shoulders as she led her through the room. She was gorgeous, her long hair fell down her back, she was wearing a pair of scrubs, with a long sleeve underneath it. She had large golden glasses sitting uptop her small nose. He watches as she spots him, she stops in her tracks and stares at him in confusion. 
“Oh perfect timing, y/n I’d like to introduce you to our Lieutenant goes by Ghost” Emma says 
“Nice to meet you Ghost, I’m y/n, I’m excited to be here” she says with a kind smile on her face, holding her hand out for him to shake. 
“A medic with no combat experience, I’ve heard about you”
“Yeah, I’m on base only”
“Fucking useless” he grunts before walking away and leaving the women in shock. 
“Excuse me?” she calls out to him, dropping her bag and walking over to him, he stares down at her, his dark eyes boring into her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead. “How dare you speak to me like that!”
Ghost is taken aback at her words, he hadn’t expected her to react this way. Nobody ever talked back to him, this was quite new. “I’m your Lieutenant” he reminds her
“Okay got it, that gives you no right to be a dick!” 
“Oh fuck!” Emma calls out, hurrying over to her sister. “You can’t talk to him like that”
“I’d listen to your sister” Ghost warns as they continue to glare at each other 
“I’m so sorry Ghost, please ignore her, it’s been a long day she just got off a 10-hour flight, and she’s a little delirious” Emma rambles 
“No I’m not delirious, I’m just-”
“y/n!” Emma snaps, clutching her sisters arm tightly. “We’ll be on our way now” 
Emma pulls her sister out of the room, trying to ignore the whispers and small laughs from the others in the common room and. They hurry to her room and set her things on the ground. Nobody had ever seen anything like it, this young woman, fresh off the plane looked Ghost in the face and yelled at him, calling him out for being rude. 
“What the fuck were you thinking? That is my fucking Lieutenant! The only person above him on this base is Price!”
“He was a dick Emma!”
“He’s allowed to be a dick! He’s the Lieutenant!” she exclaims 
“I really don’t care who he is” 
“do you have any idea how lucky you are to be here? You aren’t a trained military medic, you don’t belong here! Ghost knows it, that’s why he reacted that way! The only reason you’re here is because Laswell wants me on his fucking team! You forget that I’m in training with him right now, that’s why I’m here, I can’t have you fucking it up for me!” 
“I’m sorry Em, I don’t want to get you in trouble”
“Then don’t pull that shit again okay?” Emma asks, she sits down on her bed and nods watching as her sister sighs angrily before leaving her alone. 
-
Later that night she walked out of her room for the first time in hours. Admittedly she was embarrassed about what happened earlier. She shouldn’t have lost her cool with the Lieutenant, but she was hurt by his words. They were simple yet they cut so deep. She walks to the dining hall and all eyes turn to her. Whispers spread through the soldiers and her cheeks burn. 
“Don’t worry about them, they’ll be over it in a day” a man says as he walks up to her with his own plate of food, his was stuffed so high she wasn’t sure how he’d gotten it all to fit. “I’m John MacTavish, call me soap” 
“Why soap?” she asks 
“I clean house” he answers with a smirk, as he walks over to a table with several people sitting there eating “come sit” 
“Oh it’s okay-” she starts 
“Come on lass we don’t bite” Soap says holding his hand out to the empty seat across from him. She nods and takes a seat next to another young man with a hat on. 
“y/n this is Kyle aka Gaz” 
“Nice to meet you love” 
“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz. How do you guys know my name?” she asks 
“That was quite a scene you made earlier, you’re a celebrity” 
“Great, my sisters gonna kill me”
“Yeah if Ghost doesn’t get ya first” Soap jokes
“You’re a brave soul” Gaz chuckles “in all my time here I never seen anyone do that”
“Oh so you guys know him?”
“Yeah he’s our Lieutenant”
“Oh you guys are on the taskforce?”
“141” Soap nods as he shovels food into his mouth.
“Thats what my sister is here for, she’s training”
“Emma”
“Oh you know her?” she asks in surprise
“Of course, we train with her daily, she’s one hell of a solider”
“Yeah she is” she responds 
“So you must be y/n” a deep British voice says, she looks up to see a tall man with mutton chops. 
“Yes”
“I’m Captain John Price, it’s a pleasure to meet you” he says holding his hand out to her, she takes it and shakes it. 
“Its nice to meet you too Sir”
“I hear you’ve made quite an impression already” he smiles 
“Seems like it” she says nervously 
“Between you and I, you’ve got guts I like that. Keep your head up, you deserve to be here. Stop by my office tomorrow at 7 and I’ll introduce you to the other medics”
“Yes sir” she smiles 
“Have a good night guys” he nods before leaving their table 
“Looks like you might survive, if Price isn’t mad at you then you might have a chance” Gaz comments 
“Great” she smiles sarcastically 
“Eh you’ll be find lass, just takes gettin used to is all” Soap says 
“Thanks guys” 
“Anytime you wanna go toe to toe with LT let me know so I can get front-row seats” Soap says causing them all to laugh.
"welcome to hell, love"
chapter two: https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733825688470192128/you-dont-like-me-i-dont-like-you?source=share
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tomurakii · 1 year ago
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My last post about bloodweave was pretty negative (though necessarily so imo) so I wanted to talk about the little things about the bloodweave dynamic that I DO like and want to see more of in fic (under the cut).
- the orb means Astarion can't start their relationship transactionally. Gale can't give Astarion blood, and also can't have sex with him (and presumably would refuse casual sex anyway). How would the relationship develop without Astarion being able to rely on the give-and-take, forced instead to just trust Gale will watch his back? Astarion isn't a plans guy, I imagine having to come up with something on the spot (considering none of the other companions are reeaaaally an option either) would lead to a lot more emotional vulnerability as he tries to take a route he has much less experience with. Not to mention that the flirty and standoffish front isn't exactly going to endear him to Gale, who approves of the capable, loyal, and righteous. How long can Astarion pretend to be invested in Gale's wellbeing before it becomes true?
- they both have bad ascension endings, but different natural outcomes. Gale is considered the more morally upstanding one, but in their solo states (without the player's influence) Gale will go through with ascension and Astarion won't. Would they goad each other on? Gale disapproves of Astarion's ascension, using arguments that could apply to himself about the personal sacrifice and loss of the soul. Would Astarion flip them around, become defensive? Their dynamic could mean the power hungry character ending up discouraging the pursuit of godhood, or the two of them hurtling over the edge together. Or, maybe, Astarion encouraging Gale to ascend and having to trust him to return.
- they're the party members with the most life experience, and they're also both pretty well-educated (even if Astarion's law qualifications may well have expired by the events of the game). He spent his time under Cazador sewing (like Gale in his Baldur's Gate epilogue) and learning languages (of which Gale knows four). They have enduring common interests beyond their circumstances. Gale can help Astarion rediscover the latent nerd potential he lost when he died, and lord knows he would love to pick his brain for a first hand account of the mid-to-late 12th century.
- Astarion recently regained hope for his future when the tadpole freed him, Gale recently lost all of it. While act 1 is a continuous series of positive discoveries for Astarion (tadpole frees him from cazador -> ceremorphosis is held off by the dream visitor -> tadpole can be controlled), Gale's life gets worse with time as his treatment stops working. It's a dynamic that could give Gale hope, force Astarion to practise empathy, or put them completely at odds.
- Astarion's all-encompassing desire to reclaim his life could be inspiring to Gale. Moreover, I imagine seeing just how passive Gale is about his death would infuriate him. To have so little regard for his real, mortal, free life? It's a great source of angst, and also a great starting point for Gale to start wanting to live again. Because after learning about Astarion's past he would agree, he'd recognise how much value a mortal life was supposed to have. He'd think himself ungrateful or impolite for entertaining the idea of throwing it away when Astarion would give anything to have what he had. This would lead to guilt, and potentially self-loathing, unless someone was there to help pick up the pieces.
- If Astarion meets Oblodra before Gale's act 2 romance scene, (or for a fanfic plot, just before Gale is confident enough to confess) they most likely won't have sex until the graveyard scene in late act 3 (or the post-ascension equivalent). It means that rather than the fuckfest we so often see from bloodweave fics, the relationship is almost entirely a slow-burning, emotionally intimate affair. I'd really love to see that play out, the progression from semi-horny yearning on both parts as the orb keeps them apart, to two love confessions that are followed by the both of them experiencing non-sexual intimacy for the first time in years. I doubt Mystra was one to hug her chosen, after all, or hold their hands.
I just love a bg3 ship that forces the characters to take different actions than they do in canon. It makes me feel like I'm developing a broader understanding of the characters, you know?
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intothedysphoria · 1 year ago
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The podcast was Steve’s idea.
It had started with a joke from Heather. She’d took one look at Billy and Steve’s accidentally matching gym clothes and told them they looked like a failing alpha bro podcast duo. The type of guys who’d talk about being alpha males. Billy had laughed hard but it had made Steve think.
They’d been best friends since kindergarten and were functionally inseparable. Billy had seen Steve through a long period of deep, dark depression and Steve liked to think he’d helped Billy through Neil. Most podcasts Steve had listened to, the hosts didn’t even sound like they liked each other. They’d be perfect.
It took Steve about a month to convince Billy to put himself in front of a microphone. For a guy with a 300k follower Instagram thirst trap account, Billy was crushingly self conscious about his voice. He’d been on testosterone for three years but still felt like he sounded “clockable.” It wasn’t until Steve promised that if they got even one comment about Billy’s voice, they’d immediately delete the episode, that Billy agreed.
Between the two of them, they had absolutely no qualifications to start an agony aunt podcast. Still, the first episode was released onto Spotify and it had a surprisingly warm reception. Most of their listeners were queer or neurodivergent and were asking about what to do when a hookup went wrong or how to go outside without having a panic attack.
It was heartwarming really, the affect Steve felt that they were having. Two trans guys talking openly about sex, relationships, social faux pas, fitting in and the occasional tangent on oyster forks wasn’t exactly common. And their audience seemed to cling to them like two older brother figures.
It was perfect. Should have been perfect. It was just that there was a bit of a side affect.
As it turned out, spending every week with your best friend, who was physically just your type, and was also just an absolute sweetheart, led to having a crush on said best friend.
That is if you were Steve anyway. Shit.
Most guys on realising they were crushing hard on their best friend probably would have done something normal, like tell him. Not Steve though. Steve endeavoured to lock himself in the broom closet and scream before every recording session of the podcast.
It would work. Hopefully.
Then Billy started getting random listeners proposing to him via email. They’d read them out before every advice segment and Billy would either accept or decline depending on how funny he found it but it still made Steve die a little inside. Billy felt like his in some intangible, indescribable way and even jokes about marriage felt like suffocating.
He redownloaded Grindr the next day. The guys on there left a lot to be desired, especially compared to Billy but at least it stopped Steve from feeling quite so lonely. He flirted, made decisions that made Robin tut and generally started morphing into the kind of hot mess Steve had been in his late teens.
Billy didn’t seem to notice. That is until he did.
Steve was very late for recording the newest episode, a silly one about accents. He hadn’t remembered to shave so the patchy stubble that hrt was helping him grow in was a mess. There was gum stuck to to the bottom of his shoe. Something had gotten spilled on his shirt.
His co host once again looked delicious. Delicious and worried. So worried in fact that he dragged Steve into the very closet that he’d spent almost two months hiding in.
There was only so long Steve could hedge around the issue. Not with Billy worrying about all the things that could have gone wrong, anxious brain in overdrive. Steve had to tell him.
A short, excruciating silence followed after Steve admitted his crush/budding love. One that the slightly irrational part of his mind was convinced would culminate in Billy punching him again.
That didn’t happen.
Instead, Billy called him a dumbass, they made out under a precarious tin of paint for fifteen minutes, and agreed that getting together was long overdue.
The first email they got from a listener after going public about their relationship was short and to the point.
Can I propose to both of you?
I think it was @camaro-and-smokes and @prettyboy-like-you who reblogged being interested in the og post about this idea and since I am a fic writing weirdo, I wanted to write a little ficlet for them! I hope you both like it
(Inspired LOOSELY by the hilarious Help I Sexted My Boss podcast which I adore. Also inspired a smidge by Lust For Life by @oopsiedaisiesbaby)
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just-a-sleepy-idiot · 11 months ago
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Criminal Minds Imagine: Being a Paramedic for ‚The Silencer‘
Based of S8 E1 with the Silencer aka John Myers. I always loved that episode, he‘s one of the few unsubs that I can feel for. Fun fact: The actor who plays him is actually deaf as well!
Content/Warnings: Gender neutral Reader, Canon events, Leg Injury, Short!Reader, Height difference
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You were covering the night shift when you were called to come to the Prison and pick up an inmate. Since you were the Hospital closest to the facility you were responsible for the cases that exceeded the qualifications of their medical personnel, as well as anything that happened after their Nurses shift ended. Like now when it was nearing 2 AM in the middle of the night. The guards weren‘t trained to recognize what was wrong with the Inmate, the only thing they could say with certainty over the phone was that he was found collapsed on the floor of his cell, violently shaking as if he was being jolted with electricity.
You and your colleague shot each other a look, while he was driving you prepared the equipment in the back to have anything handy should he turn out to be epileptic or suffer a similarly urgent ailment. You watched the gates of the prison open from the windows in the back, looking on for a moment before you turned back to get a cushion to hold his head still once he was brought in. You opened the doors, the fluorescent lights of the ambulance spilling onto the concrete that the patient was being rolled over by three Guards. They fixated him on a Stretcher of their own, it almost looked too short for a man his size. He was still shaking, you jumped out of the vehicle to help them get him in. His eyelids fluttered when he was brought from the dark into the brightly lit inside of the ambulance, you checked his vitals quickly and prepared an injection.
The Guard that came along for Security reasons hopped in as well and closed the doors behind you, you called out to your colleague to drive without looking up from your patient. The man in front of you didn‘t seem to be aware of anything that was happening, just like you weren’t fully aware of the stuff that Guard was chatting on about while you were at work.
You frowned and looked up when you realized he was talking to you, „Sorry, what was that?“ He sat there so casually like this was a mild nuisance, not the urgent cause for worry over a human life.
„I said it’s a shame you had to come all the way here for that stuff.“ He repeated, and while you looked him in the eyes for a moment and contemplated answering, you didn’t and went back to check for any other injuries.
„So what‘s his problem? Can you tell?“ He pressed on and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his spread knees and looking you over.
„It‘s an allergy.“ You replied, and studied the mans face. Did he have a stroke before? One eyelid was slightly drooping, you flipped through his medical record. While there were many notions about fights he supposedly started and the injuries he took away from them there was nothing there explaining what you were seeing.
And.. „There’s no name? How is that possible?“ The guard shrugged, „Never talked, neither back then or now. Either way he’s silent or he’s violent. A complete waste of tax money if you ask me, but you should know. They call you up for Scum like that in the middle of the night.“
You found yourself getting annoyed with his presence in your work space, this reminded you why you didn’t like taking up these emergencies from the Prison in the first place. That job really seemed to attract a certain kind of man, usually the kind that looked for an excuse to put others down without much of a consequence.
„I don’t know what he did, but being so willing to talk foul of others doesn’t really support your supposed superiority over those you guard.“
You remarked, and there was a moment of silence before suddenly- tires screeched, you were violently thrown back into the wall and the guard flew forward as the ambulance crashed down a hill. Your hearing was muffled by the sound of your blood rushing through your ears like waves crashing down on you, a metallic taste spread in your mouth and made you spit out blood onto the cold floor before you fell unconscious.
It happened so quickly and yet it all took ages, when you regained consciousness you immediately spotted the guard collapsed against the broken doors. You blinked slowly, trying to make out your surroundings.
Hearing velcro snapping open and metal clinking you looked up to find the man getting off his handcuffs and slipping off the Stretcher. When he stood up to his full height his head gently bumped against the ceiling, he tilted his head and looked around-
you make eye contact, you hold onto your breath. He was a Criminal, and judging from the fights he picked in prison he wasn’t adversary to violence.
He said nothing, he only eyed you with suspicion and caution, almost like a wild animal. You didn’t recognize any aggression in his features despite looking worn and well capable of the brutality from his medical record.
He took a step toward you, almost towering over you with the little space he had approached- and held out his hand towards you. His eyes flickered from his hand to you, and your lips parted in surprise. He wasn‘t planning on killing you..
You nervously looked up and yet you found yourself reaching out to him as well to take his offered hand. It engulfed yours easily, his skin radiated warmth against yours and it made you aware of the cold from outside flooding in from the broken doors.
A swift pull brought you up to your feet and a sharp pain made itself aware in your left leg- „Ah..!“ tears shot into your eyes and you instinctively grabbed a hold of his Prison Overall with your free hand to stabilize yourself. „F..Fuck.. I think..“ you breathed. His eyes widened at the sudden motion, instantly letting go of your hand to support your other side. He had seen this pained expression many times, usually it was followed by loud, pained noises that he found unbearable. And yet, even when you gasped in agony it was unexpectedly soft. The tears in your eyes gleamed in the flickering, dimmed lights of the ambulance- it reminded him of something he had read once in a book by Jerry Spinelli; ‚When a Stargirl cries, she sheds not tears but light‘
You looked up to meet his gaze, his ever quiet, intense expression. You weren‘t able to get help if you weren‘t able to walk, the phone dangled from the wall with parts of it scattered on the floor alongside a bunch of medical supplies. The Guard and your Colleague seemed to suffer more than mere unconsciousness, it was crucial that you found someone to help. You.. you should probably start off by taking care of your leg as best as the supply of this ambulance would allow it and give yourself a remedy for the pain. That is.. if he wasn‘t going to change his mind on sparing you. You essentially had no idea what his intentions were, only that he could have easily killed you already if he had wanted to. Would he take you hostage now? Use you for his escape and kill you off once you weren‘t of any use for him anymore? You grimaced, both out of pain and fear, but you didn‘t shout or beg. You simply asked, „Are you going to hurt me?“
He didn‘t immediately react, he couldn‘t guarantee that he wouldn‘t if you did something stupid. But he didn‘t intend to, for now. So he slowly shook his head. You exhaled and closed your eyes in relief, squinting again at the pain. „Are you going to take me hostage?“ You asked, again, he shook his head. You nodded, „Then.. I‘m going to be taking some time to get help. It should buy you enough time to disappear. I don‘t know where exactly we are but.. avoid Thompsville, I see a lot of Guards dropping by there to get lunch. They would recognize you.“ He had more reasons to kill you than to let you go, so the least you could do.. was that. That was when it dawned on you that you were practically clawing at his Overall and you quickly let go, taking a step away from him and hitting the stretcher with your back.
He saw the realization on your face when you became aware of your proximity, quickly you retreated from him despite your sprained leg. But unlike everyone else you didn‘t make a disgusted face when they realized he was there, it was.. embarrassment? He slightly tilted his head. John nodded at your words and took a step back as well towards the doors. He knew where he wanted to go now. Before he was arrested there was no calm, no quiet, no matter where he went in hopes of finally living without the agony of the noisy outside world. But due to an unexpected turn of events did he find a vision of such place in prison. The man in the cell next to him talked of a place so peaceful, it left him yearning to go there ever since. Now he actually had an opportunity to see it for himself.
He was about to turn away, to open the doors and go, when he picked up your movements from the corner of his eye. You heaved yourself up on the strainer and tried reaching the supplies from there, but failed to do so because they were up too high. Your hands were shaking. John paused, and why he did it he could not tell, but he went back to go to the cabinet for you. His hand hovered over it, waiting for you to tell him what you needed from it. „Ah.. um, the syringe, and, yes-„ He got out what you told him you needed.
You lifted your shaking leg so you could start cutting open your pant leg, he got impatient and took the scissors from you and kneeled down to do it instead. He carefully propped your foot on his chest, you looked at him in surprise but let him proceed. He carefully cut through your pants up to your knee to reveal the swelling that confirmed it to be sprained. He helped you put an ankle brace on, careful not to touch you. It might prevent further injury when you moved, and the pain medication you injected yourself would soon start to work as well. You sighed when everything was done that could be done for now- he watched you run your hand over your face. When he helped you you had winced here and there, sighed at the pain, but you didn‘t pull away. Your eyes locked with his, there was no need for you to speak, he nodded at you as if he instantly understood what you felt. You figured he saw it as a repayment for helping him out of the seizure he suffered.
John turned around to open the doors, looking left and right before jumping out of the car. The ambulance had landed in the forest next to the highway, it was dark and steep. You limped towards the doors, and lowered yourself to sit on the floor so didn‘t need to jump when you slid out and came in contact with the forest floor. He was looking around, working on putting together a flashlight he had found in the car. Where were you..? You have rarely been the driver during Calls like these so you couldn‘t really tell where the highway was going either. Shit.. you didn‘t want to hitchhike, how high was the possibility of being spared by a Criminal twice? You‘d rather not wander the street in the middle of the night to be picked up by god knows who. No, best case scenario was you found a shop with cameras, the manager could call an ambulance and send them to your stranded car to help the other two.
The man managed to turn on the flashlight and looked back at you, gesturing you to come along. He would get you close enough to civilization until you could safely walk the rest on your own, maybe you recognized your surroundings at any point and could pinpoint him into a secluded direction.
You followed suit as best as you could, thankfully he illuminated the path in front of you both so you wouldn‘t trip and hurt yourself even more. The forest air was cold but fresh, you heard birds calling out in the distance and the rustling of leaves as the wind bend the trees in what was going to be a storm in foreseeable time.
„I like Night time walks..“ you started talking, just because the whole Situation was freaking you out and you still had lots of Adrenaline pumping through you, „It‘s usually too bright and noisy when you walk in the Daytime. But it‘s really pretty when you look into the Orange lights of someones windows against the blue night. And when the birds act up around the time it gets dark and they fly around in swarms.“ John shot you a glance, lingering for a moment before looking ahead again. When was the last time he was out at night? He tried remembering the last time he had seen what you described to him. Maybe it was in Spring, the night had been warmer than the ones before.
You found a walking path soon, a good sign that you were somewhat close to civilization, at least you could follow that path now instead of hoping that you were somewhat steady in the direction you‘ve been taking. The pain medication was working by now, but it didn‘t make walking any less difficult for you. The man was walking slower so you could keep up, you were thankful of that but at what rate would you actually get somewhere with the way you were limping? The longer you two were gone the closer he was to have the Police called on him. You hoped that he wouldn‘t abandon you in the forest because of this. Time was running and it would rain soon.
It’s been a while, you couldn’t tell if it was thirty minutes or two hours when you came across a gigantic tree on your path, it was so dark you couldn‘t even see the trunk. The man approached it and looked around as well, climbing it with ease and huffing when he jumped off to the other side. You slowed down in your steps, eyeing this massive obstacle in your path warily- he pointed the light back at you so you could see and it wasn‘t looking good. Should you try to get on your stomach and then just.. just move over like a seal? The man seemed to recognize the problem as well, because he got on top of the tree as well. He crouched down to one knee and held his arm out to you.
You limped closer and carefully put one hand on his shoulder, imagining he‘d support your balance– you let out a surprised sound when his hand came around your waist instead and he heaved you up into his arms instead with one arm, lifting you off the ground as if you weighed nothing. You instantly went to put your arms around him to hold on, clawing at his collar. You felt heat rushing into your face when you felt his fingers gently dig into your thighs. He rose up to his full height again, adjusting you in his arms by heaving you up a little more. He got off the tree, careful not to shake you too much. For a second he caught a whiff of your perfume. It was sweet, like a vision of the place the man in prison had told him about. The paradise he was chasing, with lush fields and honeybees.
When his feet touched ground again, John pointed the light towards you again to check if you were alright. His eyes widened just a little when he saw that a dark shade of red had flooded your cheeks, and your eyes caught his with a glassy look of embarrassment. He mustered you for signs of discomfort, yet the only thing he could discern was that you seemed to be.. flustered. Hm.
People usually didn’t react to him that way. Many of them crossed the street or put distance between themselves and him even if he was just minding his own business.
His imposing height paired with this impairment he had with noises, his defiance to speak after growing up deaf, it made him unapproachable and suspicious to most people. He understood why, and over time the noise sensitivity and isolation had turned him into a recluse. But..
he couldn’t deny that this felt nice, comforting in a way. He didn’t remember the last time he wanted to be careful with someone else in the way he was with you right now.
He held out the flashlight to you and you took it from him with a questioning look. Once his other hand was free he put his other arm around your legs, shifting you so you laid in his arms like a bride instead. You swallowed thickly, unable to break eye contact with him for yet another moment before you pointed the light ahead of you so he could see. His hands were warm through the fabric of your clothes.
„So you don‘t talk at all..?“ You started after a while, looking up into his face. It seemed like he was going to show no reaction, but then he nodded slowly while still looking ahead. „I assume no one in Prison is using sign language with you.“ You were quiet for a while, rocking in his arms with every step. You heard the gravel under his shoes. The wind picked up, you slightly cowered more into his chest. „If you had written letters to someone they would have known your name by now. So.. so do you communicate with anyone at all?“ You looked up to him, he frowned and his eyelids fluttered for a moment. How did you know? Why did you ask? He did not dare meet your gaze.
First raindrops were starting to come down, a contrasting cold against your warm cheeks. You shivered. „That must be hard.“ You breathed, gaze letting go of him to trail down to your legs. The swelling of your leg still alarmingly prominent. When the rain picked up you blinked fast and instinctively hid your face in his Overall. His eyes quickly darted down to you when you did that, John slightly pressed his lips together and slowly looked up again. Your nose nuzzled against him, it felt like he held a fawn in his arms.
It seemed as if the forest was slowly clearing up, the path was getting wider. You must be close now-
A light cut through the dark, one that was not your own. He spotted a house, no, more than that. A village.
The luminescent lights of a nearby gas station reached you, a car was just driving away from there.
Relief coursed through you, you turned off the flashlight and ran a hand through your hair. God.. you actually managed to get there before the night was over! Maybe your colleagues had a chance, maybe someone had called already to find your ambulance. You needed to tell them where you were.
He halted and bend over, carefully helping you back onto your feet. His eyes flickered over you when he stabilized you and took back the flashlight. You realized he wouldn’t want to get any closer, once you made your call this place would be swarmed by Police.
So.. this was it?
You breathed out and looked at him, you didn’t quite know what to say. Your form stood against the orange light from behind you, contrasting the blue from the night. A scene molded out of your words. Maybe you could make all these impressions come true with your words.
„I.. um,“ you brushed a wet strand of hair out of your face, it was pouring now. „Thank you for taking me here. I don’t know what you did that got you into prison, but I know what you did for me so.. please stay safe.“
You smiled and, maybe it was the adrenaline but, you leaped forward and hugged him. Johns arms instinctively jumped upwards in surprise, he felt his heart race against the spot where your head laid.
He was.. fully immobile for a moment, when he managed to regain his senses John put his arms around your smaller frame in return. He engulfed you easily, the rain seemed to stop when he lowered his head to rest on top of yours for a moment. Even now he seemed to be very careful with his touch.
He felt weirdly grateful for this, for the way you allowed him some kindness despite his unknown past, despite his Silence. You squeezed him and let go, he inhaled deeply and nodded at you before taking a few steps back.
You smiled lightly and turned around to go to the Gas station. When you turned around one more time he was gone, but you saw the faint light of the flashlight dancing through the trees. Birds called out from the forest and took off into the sky.
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It‘s been a while since I‘ve written or posted anything. I hope you liked this nonetheless and if you did it would motivate me if you left a comment or an ask!!
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albatrossdeveloper · 5 months ago
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XOXO Accessibility: My Experience Attending
All right, this is what I do, and for once I'm actually excited to do it?? 
I went into XOXO jaded as hell. I have every right and every reason to be. Access is both easy and hard, complicated and simple. An event can do everything within its power to create accessibility, but if your crowd is full of people who block the ramps and stand in front of people sitting in rollators, disabled people will still be kept from enjoying themselves, and be forced to put on a brave face for it. XOXO was the rare kind of thing where I left uplifted, and thinking maybe there is a future for people with physical and cognitive disabilities to be allowed to participate in the larger community of artists. 
Every talk had CART. It wasn't perfect, the outdoor tent had them stage-right in the front, so they couldn't see the slides which showed some of the more difficult words people were using, but holy shit they had CART at every talk. This shouldn't be an issue like it is, but it creates access for everyone; not just deaf and HOH individuals, but people who have sensory processing disorders and just able bodied and minded people who missed a word or two. The events at the mainstage had the CART done from the back it seems, and I noticed it was much more accurate. 
As for the comfort level at the events, guys, I did fucking floor time. I was flaring pretty bad those two days, the chairs weren't incredibly comfortable, and I wanted to change positions. So I sat on the floor, which is already rare for me to feel that confidence, and a volunteer asked if I needed anything like a chair, and when I started explaining just thumbs-upped me and walked away. I was astounded, usually I have to explain myself, but they just went on "I don't have to understand I'm just here to help" style and did their job without making me feel weird. Genuinely, that was probably my most uplifting moment of the event, stopping dead in my tracks of an explanation I shouldn't feel the need to give in the first place, feeling safer than I've felt to just be a little autistic weirdo who needs floor time than I probably ever have. I go to chronic pain support groups regularly where people will look at me funny for sitting on the floor. The fact that in support groups I get more side-eyeing than I did at XOXO just speaks to the atmosphere they cultivated that we're allowed to truly come as we are. I've had so many iterations of this experience, all well-intended usually, but this is by far the most comfortable I have ever felt. 
I'm the kind of sensitive person who gets caught up in this minutiae. I noticed every single cable was well covered with an accessible ramp that would have passed seattle's legal qualifications for how we have to cover our EV chargers as to not trip people on sidewalks, and the ramps were always immediately made clear for me when people without mobility aids were crowding them as soon as I came into view with one. Everyone who I interacted with did literally everything within their power to help me deal with my very severe grass allergy. This always bothers me at conferences, and at GDC I was running on 4 benadryl at a time multiple doses per day because yerba buena is like swimming in histamines for me. I didn't have to take any benadryl until the last day when I went to a Slack organized meetup in a park, and I hadn't brought my rollator and was given a chair to sit in so I could continue participating in the conversation. At no point did anyone stand in front of me excluding me from the group, this happens often when I'm sitting in a rollator, I was always a welcome member of groups and circles of conversations. 
There was one big issue that happened, and everyone who marked ourselves as having access needs were emailed about it the day before. They usually have tiling on top of the grass, to make the terrain easier to navigate. It was BUMPY as hell, and I definitely struggled to navigate it. This was the biggest access hangup I hit, but I was notified it would happen in advance, and it was made clear to me that one of the main organizers was absolutely scrambling to try and make it right. When I asked if there were any plans to mitigate it, I was told options had been exhausted and was actually offered a full refund of my pass. I had an incredible experience, and I don't feel like it impacted me enough to make that necessary, but I cannot stress how fucking rare it is for people to literally put their money where their mouth is on these issues. Everyone who is disabled and/or using mobility aids I talked to was definitely struggling with it, and anyone who was there and dealing with it in some capacity please feel free to comment your experiences below, as mine isn't enough to give a full picture. My fellow attendees did everything they could to make it easier for me to navigate, and even the food vendors helped me make sure everything I bought was something I could move from their space to the tables in or on my rollator without sauces going flying. 
Covid measures are their own thing, and this event had some great policies in place. NUMEROUS types of masks were available, and I'm finding myself wishing I'd taken pictures of all the different types available. This is just a summary of my experience, and I’m so happy it was so positive. I left this conference feeling artistically fed and uplifted, which is a genuine first for me. Thank you to everyone involved in organizing for your hard work! 
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grison-in-space · 10 months ago
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I'm honestly curious how you square the criticism of paternalism with the apparent conviction that people (or at least some people) are better off with some kind of minder, or in some way unfree. These read as basically the same things to me, so what qualifications need to apply to the latter to make it acceptable?
You know what, that is a fair question. I think what I was trying to articulate last night is actually a little more complicated than that, but I definitely did not lay out the connective tissue to get there, and I see how you got that reading. (I am very much one of those people who thinks by speaking, sometimes, and I am absolutely doing some of that by this point.)
First: I don't think that some people are better off unfree, full stop. I really want to emphasize that very strongly here.
Second: I was trying to articulate some of my tension with the notion that 100% unbounded freedom of choice is inherently the ideal to which all individuals (do? should?) aspire. ARA philosophy focuses really heavily on the idea that any curtailment of choice or influence from humans to animals is inherently coercion and therefore immoral. It focuses very strongly on the idea that freedom to choose is the highest possible value to strive for.
And I think that partaking in society is inherently to accept curtailments on at least some freedoms, in exchange for receiving the support and resources of the greater social whole. (If nothing else, sometimes things I would like to do are also things that will upset someone else in my shared social world, who will then impose consequences on me about it.) What I was trying to do is articulate that trading some of those freedoms in exchange for the benefits of a society can be, and often is, a pretty good trade. That's why sociality exists in the first place, even in the existence of some pretty harsh hierarchies within some species.
I was not very clear about this, I freely admit.
The thing you gotta understand about me is that I think in terms of trade offs. Life is a series of imperfect decisions made to allocate finite resources (if nothing else, time) between series of conflicting demands and desires. Understanding those decisions is essentially my bread and butter. And everything has a cost—even preference itself.
Now, in terms of humans, one of the things that humans are genuinely rather unusual about is our collective capacity for delayed gratification, impulse control, and abstract reasoning. When we talk about animals, we have to recall that informed consent in this sense is essentially impossible to acquire: without language to convey abstract options and with much less capacity to consider future outcomes, it's harder to present these ideas to animals the way you can with humans.
And... for all that humans are unusually good at those things, we're not always that good at them! I was trying to reach for and articulate that my own experiences with decision-making in the present instant don't always square with my longer term goals and values, and that reasoning through the long term consequences of my actions like a perfectly logical actor isn't always something I am capable of doing in all moments of all time. Which is why I build in structures to outsource some of that cognitive load. I think there's a considerable cognitive load that comes with decision-making in an infinitely complex world, and I think that part of the utility of society is to help structure choices so that you don't have to engage in the cognitive effort of gathering information for every potential choice you could make and then making it. The structure lets us conserve effort and reserve energy for other goals and decisions.
I don't have to know why the fire code says there needs to be an egress window in my basement bedroom and think about whether the future risk of fire justifies the definite immediate cost of paying for the window and accurately assess the risk of burning alive; I just need to know that my city fire code says my choice is to have a bedroom with an egress window or not have a bedroom there. Risk assessment is really hard and it carries a lot of uncertainty; yielding my judgement to a trustworthy authority is a way to conserve effort.
Of course, how do we know an authority is trustworthy? That's the thing that is hard; the consequences of yielding choice to a structure that is not actually built to support you are stark. And authority isn't always trustworthy by default.
I view the ideal role of the state as a way to structure our society such that we leave maximal room for freedom while minimizing the amount of effort and discomfort it takes to attain longer term collective goals for safety and comfort. The inclusion of humans with all kinds of experiences in that power structure to the extent that we can do so, with expertise in various situations outsourced to people who have dedicated significant time to thinking deeply about those cases, helps us to minimize the risk of authority wielded to oppress rather than to guide. (And yes, circling back to disability and mad pride, the experience of people with cognitive, emotional, and perceptive disabilities absolutely needs to be a part of that structure.) We collectively build authoritative structures that shape our choice making environment such that we have relatively little room for harm and increased freedoms elsewhere.
That's humans. We can think far enough ahead and communicate well enough to make that work. Animals generally can't. So when we think about the ethics of human/animal interactions, it's likewise important to make sure that we are listening as carefully as we can in order to try to navigate that trade off as carefully as possible, with the caveat that it IS a trade off rather than an unalloyed good juxtaposed against a certain evil.
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blitzwhore · 2 months ago
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Heeeey I could use some advice that I think you're specially qualified for! :D So I'm not writing Stolas but I am planning to write an erotic romance involving a male cockatiel demon who's stuck in a semi-human form not unlike Stolas or Vassago, including cloaca. My question is do you have any tips and tricks for writing that?
From my own knowledge of birds I know that they will rub their cloaca against things to masturbate, which would easily become humping with a partner, but do you have any suggestions about angles or objects to use, that kind of thing? Another note is that there won't be any "penetration" going on as his partner is an asexual woman who doesn't feel comfortable with it if she's involved in any way.
Thanks!
(cw for nsfw talk below)
Hi! I'm no biologist, so my qualification is just writing and reading and seeing lots of smutty Stolas fanworks, but you're right—birds do something called a 'cloacal kiss' in order to mate, where they rub their cloacas together so that sperm can travel into the female's cloaca.
Honestly, I don't know if what little help I can offer can count as tips, but what I can say is this: find what works for you as the author. Some authors like to give characters like Stolas and Vassago a clit—since their bodies are quite anthropomorphic—while others prefer the more animalistic approach where they have a regular bird's cloaca. Most fics I've read have these characters get wet when they're aroused, and ejaculate when they cum. If you go with the version without a clit, it's also quite common to make the outside area/rim extremely sensitive and erogenous; I've also seen it described as bumpy to the touch in numerous fics.
In summary, every writer does their own thing, and you can pick and choose which things you like according to your personal tastes and how true to animal biology you want to be. Clearly, canon isn't super true to it, since I don't think real-life cloacas are fit for being penetrated, and Stolas clearly likes penetration, so... follow your heart!
If your ace character is fine with participating in sex not involving penetration, you could write scissoring/sex that mimics a cloacal kiss. I read a Stolitz fic with scissoring recently that was *fans self* in case you need some inspiration. There's also fingers, mouths, and tails (like Blitz's, for example) that can be used to stimulate the cloaca from the outside.
Otherwise, there's stray feathers, pillows... guns and knives, if you want to get super kinky... 😂
As for positions, depending on whether you want your character to be more passive or active, you could have him lying on his back while he's touched/touches himself, or actively riding objects/hands/mouths, or a mix of both.
You can also exploit other erogenous zones and actions that don't involve the cloaca whatsoever. Like trailing fingers across the skin under the chest fluff, for example. Or biting, or scalp massages, or tail-pulling... Lots of options to explore!
Hope some of that helps, have fun writing! :3
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mgarmagedon · 1 year ago
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It's one shot time again baby >:3
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English:
Magnus walked through the prison corridor. The noise from the echoing cells was overwhelming, and despite them being fully soundproofed, the sight of the highest judge surrounded by inmates in that place caused sheer madness.
Unmoved by it all, Ultra Magnus walked silently, tapping his cane on the ground.
The man didn't have the opportunity to frequent such places outside the court, where he interacted with convicts, but this occasion was exceptional due to one prisoner, the son of his former leader – Bumblebee.
He couldn't believe that it was Bumblebee from all of the people that he needed to ask for help, especially considering how this young man had fallen and become a disgrace to the entire Optimus legend in Ultra Magnus's opinion.
He slowly entered the closed special wing, where prisoners were isolated from the rest, for various reasons, but Bee had been transferred here for the safety of other inmates.
Magnus took a chair standing in front of one of the empty cells, dragged it into one of the dark alcoves, delicately placed it in front of the solitary cell, and sat down slowly. He tossed his coat back, rested his hands and arms on the cane, looking into the dark cell.
A quiet cough to draw attention, hoping for something to finally happen in the dark cell illuminated only by blue floor lamps.
He could hear a faint rumble from the cell, reacting to the man's presence. This sound was followed by another – the shooting of the spine, getting up from the prison cot, and the quiet sliding of headphones from his head to the ground. Slowly and lazily, the dark figure stood up, concluding the entire procedure with a loud yawn and a scratch on the lower part of his back.
"Maybe you could show some manners in front of others," he remarked, looking at the dark figure. "Such unscrupulous behavior doesn't suit you, especially."
The figure in the darkness hunched slightly and sighed quietly. The man in the shadows approached the bluish glow.
"Do you care that much about my behavior, since when? Since the day you spat in Ratchet's face, blaming him for my whole behavior?" he crossed his arms.
The man standing before the barrier, who was shorter than Ultra Magnus, wore an orange jumpsuit, dirty from sweat and slightly torn, with food stains. His hairstyle was a messy mass of brown strands going in all directions. He wore no shoes, only socks with a hole through which a toe protruded. Due to a lack of care, he had grown a beard, and his previously well-toned figure had given way to a slightly protruding stomach.
Ultra Magnus scrutinized Bumblebee, who lost his touch since he got into prison.
"I see you haven't spared yourself during your time here," he said, despite the sarcasm, in a cold and serious tone, to the point that he meant it literally.
"And what about you? Is the cane and glasses a new thing to make you seem more dignified, or are you slowly deteriorating?"
"Without malice, Bumblebee, considering who you're still talking to, I can submit a request to extend your sentence for insulting a public servant of my high rank."
"Just tell me what you want from me? If it's about any capabilities to fight or lead, Arcee has all the qualifications to do it better and faster than me!"
The gray-haired man simply sighed at Bee's words and shook his head disapprovingly.
"If I could, I would have done it long ago. Currently, your sister is busy as she holds a higher position in the Senate."
"Even better," he scoffed at the news, behaving like an offended little child.
"Anyway," Magnus cleared his throat to interrupt Bee, "I come to you today with a kind of proposition that I rarely apply..." He struggled to get it through his pride. "Due to the fact that you are a trained soldier, an excellent agent, ready for any possible situation, where we need people like you the most in these times. I want to give you the opportunity for rehabilitation through community service. By fulfilling them satisfactorily, you would repay your social debt and become a free man again."
"Do you really want to release me so easily?" Shocked by the older man's words, Bee widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows.
"Unfortunately, I have to..." he hissed through his teeth.
Bee grabbed his chin and pondered intensely over Magnus's words.
"And what exactly does this 'community service' entail?" Bumblebee crossed his arms again, looking into the eyes of the graying man on the chair.
"Something simple, where you'll have to communicate with young people and teach others your naturally acquired knowledge from the battlefield. You shouldn't have a big problem with that. Of course, we'll hire you in the central police station as a lieutenant for a while so you can get the necessary permissions."
"Wait," the man in the cell stopped him. "What do you mean by 'communicating with young people and teaching others my knowledge'?"
This was a question that Magnus wanted to avoid as much as possible.
"To teach my daughter a few skills. She has great potential and amazing abilities, but due to recent events, I realized that she doesn't cope well in the real world. With her knowledge and your skills, she would quickly learn how to function in real society, not just in theoretical situations. Besides... She needs to spend some more time with someone she won't take such an example from, like you." 
The words spoken by the black man only disgusted Bee. He couldn't believe what Ultra Magnus was proposing to him. He approached the barrier separating him from Magnus, looked him straight in the eyes, and furrowed his brow.
"Are you mocking me?" He chuckled slightly in anger. "Now I have to take care of your brat, which you accidentally made, and you don't even want to take care of her yourself? Just because you think you're doing me a favor now by offering me to become a nanny for my own freedom? I have no idea what Optimus saw in you appointing you as his right hand; you're a messed-up piece of shit. Not to mention what state you've brought Cybertron to with your 'great council' after the war." He said mockingly. "Let me tell you one thing, Magnus, I'm NOT SUITABLE for taking responsibility for anything. Look at the state I've brought myself to! It's a miracle I haven't died in some ditch, becoming an anonymous corpse of some hobo, like every war veteran lately. And now, find yourself a better sucker! I don't know, maybe Bulkhead is free, or convince your ass-kisser Smokescreen. He'll surely agree, after sucking your dick for almost 10 years to get to a good position."
Bee turned on his heel and disappeared in the semi-darkness of the cell, lying on his cot with his face to the wall. Just so Ultra Magnus would finally leave him alone. He grumbled something under his breath. The older man just stood up, took the chair under his arm.
"I got the message. Well then, I guess Ratchet won't be able to see you anytime soon." He began to walk away slowly.
Bee moved towards the barrier at Magnus's words, pressing against it with all his might.
"What do you mean by 'meet'?" he shouted in his direction. 
"I intended to let you meet your father shortly after joining your service as a reward for your conduct. It's amazing how your family misses you, even Arcee and that con, Knock Out, are asking about you. After all, for the first time in a long time, they all know where you are, and that you are safe."
"Do you really think attempting to force me to become your lackey will accomplish anything? They don't need me, and everyone knows it well. I'm just garbage in their eyes and in the eyes of the whole society! Stop, just... I..." he rubbed his face with his hand. He sighed loudly; his head was already a mess from this conversation.
He didn't know what to say or do anymore. He also missed everyone, but he sincerely believed he was just a burden that had to be dragged along. He kept telling himself that he was a failure and the reason for all the misfortune in his and others' lives. Now he was wrestling with himself, and didn't want to sell himself so easily to Magnus, on the other hand, it sounded so easy to be free again and escape far from here once again. 'But does it make any sense at this point?' he asked himself this question, slowly bending down to the ground to sit crouched. Clutching himself as much as he could, he hid his head between his knees.
"So what's your final decision?" Magnus after he came back to Bee, raised an eyebrow standing in front of Bee. "This is not the time for such behavior; just say yes or no."
Bee froze in this position for a moment, unable to utter a single word because with every scream thrown into the space of his mind, tears were gathering in his eyes.
"Will it make anything better at all?" he said, staying in his crouched position.
"You'll have a chance to finally stabilize and perhaps change your life for the better," Magnus stared blankly into the space in front of him, noticing how Bee's cell was neglected.
Torn papers were scattered everywhere, and the photos attached to the wall had strings made of shoelaces connecting them. Clean clothes were piled under his cot in an indeterminate mass, remaining untouched for a while. On Bumblebee's bed, there was a discman covered with slightly yellowed stickers.
"When should it start?" the brunette whispered. "In about 3 months, the new semester will begin at the academy, and that's when I plan to take my daughter, Strongarm, for homeschooling, which you will take care of. Of course, I'll take care of your repair, medical care, and psychiatrist. I'll also make sure you return to your prime form by then," he cast his gaze back on Bee, slowly getting up from the ground. "I understand that this is your consent, Bumblebee."
"I guess so..." he replied uncertainty. 
"Great. In a week, my secretary will come with documents for you to sign." he walked away with the chair under his arm, leaving Bee without further explanations.
Bee was left alone, shaken by the whole situation, not knowing what to do and why such situations only happened to him. He lay down again on his cot, put on his headphones, and immersed himself again in his world of music
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Polish:
Magnus szedł przez korytarz więzienny. Szum z unoszących się cel był wszechmogący i mimo tego że cele były w pełni wyciszone, widok sędzi najwyższego zbiorem zamkniętym w tamtym przybytku powodowało czyste szaleństwo. 
Ultra Magnus niewzruszony tym wszystkim cicho szedł przed siebie postukując swoją laską o ziemię. 
Mężczyzna nie miał okazji zbyt często przebywać w tych samych przybytkach poza sądem, gdzie widział się ze skazanymi, ale ta okazja była wyjątkowa, z powodu jednego więźnia, którym był syn jego byłego przywódcy- Bumblebee.
Sam nie był w stanie uwierzyć, że był skazany na taki, a nie inny wybór, zwłaszcza przez to jak stoczył się ten chłopak i stał się wstydem dla całej legendy Optimusa zdaniem Ultra Magnusa.
Powoli wszedł do zamkniętego skrzydła specjalnego, gdzie więźniowie byli odizolowani od reszty przybytku, z wszelakich powodów, ale w tym został tutaj przeniesiony dla bezpieczeństwa innych więźniów.
Magnus wziął krzesło stojące przed jedną z pustych cel i zaciągnął je w jedno z ciemnych rozgałęzień. Po czym delikatnie je ustawił przed jedyną celą i usiadł powoli, zarzucając swój płaszcz do tyłu, a swoje ręce i ramiona oparł o laskę patrząc w głąb ciemnej celi.
Cicho kaszlnął by zwrócić na siebie uwagę, by coś się w końcu wydarzyło w ciemnej celi, podświetlanej jedynie niebieskimi lampami przy podłodze. 
Można było usłyszeć cichy pomruk unoszący się celi, reagujący na obecność mężczyzny. Tym dźwięku nastąpił kolejny- strzelania kości, przez wstawanie z więziennej pryczy i cichego zsunięcia słuchawek z jego głowy na ziemię. Powoli i leniwie czarna postura wstała, kończąc tą całą procedurę głośnym ziewnięciem na koniec i podrapaniem się po dolnej partii pleców.
- Może zachowałbyś trochę kultury przy innych.- stwierdził patrząc na czarną posturę mężczyzny.- Takie bezpruderyjne zachowanie nie przystoi zwłaszcza tobie.
Postura w ciemności jedynie jedynie nieco zgarbił i cicho westchnął. Mężczyzną w cieniu podszedł do promieniującej na niebiesko.
- Aż tak ci zależy na moim zachowaniu, od kiedy? Od wtedy kiedy splunąłeś w twarz Ratchetowi, że to jego wina i jestem wstydem dla Optimusa i niego? - skrzyżował ręce.
Mężczyzna stojący przed barierą, był niższy od Ultra Magnusa i był w pomarańczowym stroju, brudnym od potu i nieco podartym, posiadającym plamy od jedzenia. Jego fryzura za to była tylko rozczochraną masą brązowych pasm włosów, które niezgrabnie rozchodziły się we wszystkie strony. Nie nosił żadnego obuwia, jedynie skarpetki z jedną dziurą przez którą wystawał palec. Brunetowi przez brak ochoty na większe dbanie o siebie urósł zarost. A jego ówcześnie wysportowana sylwetka oklapła i zastąpił ją delikatnie wystający brzuch.
Ultra Magnus dokładnie przyjrzał się Bumblebee, który wyszedł z formy przez zastanie i ogólny brak woli do robienia czegokolwiek.
- Widzę, że się nie oszczędzałeś przez ostatnie lata pobyty tutaj.- Mimo, że jego wypowiedź była sarkastyczna, powiedział zimnym i poważnie, do stopnia, że mówił to dosłownie.
- Ty chyba też? Ta laska i okulary to nowa, rzecz która ma ci dodawać powagi i respektu czy już powoli niedomagasz? 
- Bez złośliwości Bumblebee, widz z kim nadal rozmawiasz, mogę dodać wniosek o wydłużenie ci wyroku za obrazę funkcjonariusza publicznego tak wysokiego stopnia jak mój.
- Powiedz mi po prostu czego chcesz ode mnie? Bo jeśli chodzi o jakiekolwiek możliwości do walki lub by coś poprowadzić, ona ma wszystkie predyspozycje by zrobić to lepiej i szybciej ode mnie!
Siwy mężczyzna jedynie westchnął na słowa Bee i pokiwał głową z dezaprobatą. 
- Gdybym mógł to bym dawno to zrobił. Aktualnie twoją siostra jest zajęta, bo obejmuje wyższe stanowisko w senacie-
- Jeszcze lepiej.-prychnął na tą wiadomość, zachowując się jak obrażone małe dziecko.
- Wracając.- odchrząknął by przerwać Bee.- Przychodzę dzisiaj do ciebie z pewnego rodzaju propozycją, której nie stosuje prawie nigdy...- ciężko mu przez jego dumę przechodzi to przez gardło.- Z powodu dlatego iż jestem wyszkolonym żołnierzem, świetnym agentem, gotowy na wszelkie możliwe sytuację, gdzie potrzebujemy takich ludzi jak ty najbardziej w tych czasach. Chcę ci dać możliwość na rehabilitację swoich czynów poprzez pracę społeczne, dzięki którym po wypełnieniu ich w satysfakcjonujący sposób, spłacił byś swój dług społeczny i byłbyś spowrotem wolnym człowiekiem.
- Naprawdę chcesz mnie tak łatwo wypuścić?- zszokowany na słowa starszego mężczyzny, Bee zrobił duże oczy i podniósł brwi.
- Niestety muszę...-wysyczał przez zęby cicho.
Bee chwycił się za brodę i zaczął się intensywnie zastanawiać nad słowamis Magnusa. 
- A na czym mają polegać te "pracę społeczne"?- Bumblebee ponownie skrzyżował ręce i spojrzał w oczy siwiejącego mężczyźnie na krześle.
- Coś prostego, do czego będziesz musiał komunikować się z młodzieżą i jedynie uczyć innych swojej naturalnie nabytej wiedzy z pola walki. Nie powinieneś mieć z tym większego problemu, oczywiście przez to zatrudnimy cię tam jako porucznika na jakiś czas, byś dostał potrzebne pozwolenia-
- Poczekaj.- zatrzymał go mężczyzna w celi.- Co masz na myśli przez "komunikację z młodzieżą i uczenie innych mojej wiedzy"? 
To pytanie, które Magnus chciał ominąć jak najszerszym łukiem. Aczkolwiek również nie zamierzał go w tym temacie okładamć, bardziej uniknąć tego szczegółu. 
- Uczyć moją córkę fachu. Ma wielki potencjał i niesamowite zdolności, ale przez ostatnie wydarzenia, zrozumiałem, że nie zbyt dobrze sobie radzi w prawdziwym świecie. A z jej wiedzą i twoimi umiejętnościami, szybko by się nauczyła jak funkcjonować w prawdziwym społeczeństwie, a nie teoretycznych sytuacjach. Poza tym... Musi trochę pospędzać więcej czasu z kimś z kogo nie będzie brać takiego przykładu, przez jak skończyłeś.- słowa wypowiadane przez czarnoskórego mężczyznę, jedynie zniesmaczyły Bee.
Bee nie mógł uwierzyć w to co mu proponuję Ultra Magnus. Podszedł bliżej do bariery oddzielającej go od niego. Spojrzał mu prosto w oczy i zmarszczył brwi.
- Kpisz sobie ze mnie?- zaśmiał się lekko w złości.- Teraz mam jeszcze zajmować się twoim bachorem, którego sobie zrobiłeś przez przypadek I nawet nie chce ci się nią zajmować? Tylko dlatego, że myślisz, że robisz mi teraz Primus wie jaką łaskę proponując mi zostanie niańką za własną wolność? Nie mam pojęcia co w tobie widział Optimus mianując cię swoją prawą ręką, jesteś skurwiałym śmieciem. Nie mówiąc już do jakiego stanu doprowadziłeś Cybetron po wojnie s "wszechwspaniałą radą".- powiedział to kpiąco.- Powiem ci jedno Magnus, ja się NIE NADAJE na branie odpowiedzialności za cokolwiek, spójrz do jakiego stanu się dopuściłem! Cud, że jeszcze nie umarłem w jakimś rowie, zostając bezimiennym truchłem jakiegoś żula, jak każdy weteran wojenny ostatnio. A teraz znajdź sobie lepszego frajera! Nie wiem może Bulkhead jest wolny albo weź zmuś do tego swojego lizodupca- Smokescreena. On na pewno się na to zgodzi, w końcu od prawie 10 lat ssie ci pałę, by dość do dobrego stanowiska.
Bee odwrócił się na pięcie i zniknął w półmroku celi, kładąc się na swoją pryczę twarzą do ściany. Tak by w końcu Ultra Magnus dał mu święty spokój. Burczał coś sobie pod nosem. A starszy mężczyzna jedynie wstał i wziął krzesło pod pachę.
- Zrozumiałem ten przekaz. W takim razie, chyba Ratchet nie będzie się w stanie z tobą zobaczyć w najbliższym czasie.- zaczął powoli odchodzić.
Bee ruszył do bariery na te słowa Magnusa. Przycisnął się do niej z całej siły.
- Co masz na myśli spotkać się?-wykrzyczał w jego stronę.
- Miałem zamiar cię puścić na spotkanie z twoim ojcem w niedługim czasie po przystąpieniu do twojej służby jako nagrodę za Twoje sprawowanie. To zadziwiające jak twoją rodzina za tobą tęskni, nawet Arcee i ten con- Knock Out się o ciebie dopominają. W końcu pierwszy raz od dawna wiadomo chociaż gdzie jesteś i że jesteś chociaż tutaj bezpieczny.
- Serio myślisz, że próba wymuszenia na mnie zostania twoim sługuskiem coś da? Oni mnie nie potrzebują i wszyscy o tym dobrze wiedzą. Jestem zwykłym śmieciem w ich oczach jak i całego społeczeństwa! Przestań, po prostu... ja...- przetarł swoją dłonią twarz. Głośno westchnął mają już mentlik w głowie przez tą rozmowę. 
Nie wiedział już co ma powiedzieć, ani co robić. On również tęskniłem za każdym, ale szczerze wierzył, że jest jedynie męczącym workiem mięsa który trzeba za sobą ciągnąć. Ciągle sobie powtarzał w głowie, że jest nieudacznikiem i to on jest powodem wszystkich nieszczęście w jego i innych życiach. Sam się teraz gryzł ze samym sobą, nie chciał się tak łatwo sprzedać Magnusowi, z drugiej strony, brzmiało to bardzo łatwo by znowu być wolnym i uciec daleko stąd ponownie 'ale czy to ma już jakikolwiek sens w tym momencie?', sam sobie zadawał to pytanie, powoli schylając się ku ziemi by usiąść skulonemu. Ściskając się jak najbardziej tylko mógł, ukryła głowę między kolanami.
- To jaka jest w końcu twoją finalna decyzja?- Magnus podniósł jedną brew stając przed Bee.- To nie czas na takie zachowanie, powiedz po prostu tak czy nie.
Bee zastygł w tej pozycji na chwilę, nie potrafiąc wypowiedzieć jednego słowa, bo za każdym okrzykiem wyrzuconym w przestrzeń jego umysłu, zbierało mu się na łzy. 
- A czy to jakkolwiek sprawi, że będzie lepiej...?- powiedział to zostając w swojej skulonej pozycji.
- Będziesz miał szansę w końcu się ustabilizować i być może zmienić swoje życie na lepsze.- Magnus patrzył pusto w przestrzeń przed nim, zauważając jak cela Bee jest zaniedbana.
Wszędzie leżały poszarpane papiery, a zdjęcia przylepione do ściany, miały że sobą powiązane sznurki zrobione że sznurówek. Czyste ubrania były ubite pod jego pryczą w jedną nieokreśloną masę i pozostając nieruszone od dłuższego czasu. Za to na pryczy Bumblebee leżał discman obklejony nieco przyżółkłymi naklejkami. 
- Kiedy by miało się to zacząć...?- szepnął brunet.
- Za około 3 miesiąc zaczną się nowy semestr, w akademii, wtedy właśnie zamierzam zabrać moją córkę- Strongarm na nauczanie domowe, którym ty się zajmiesz. Oczywiście zajmę się twoim zakwaterowaniem, lekarzem i psychiatrą. Również zadbam o to byś do tego czasu wrócił do swojej najwyższej formy.- zarzucił swój wzrok znowu na Bee powoli wstającym z gleby.- Rozumiem, że to twoja zgoda Bumblebee.
- Tak sądzę, że tak...?- odpowiedział niepewnie.
- Świetnie. Za tydzień moja sekretarka przyjdzie z dokumentami dla ciebie do podpisu.- odszedł z krzesłem podpachą, zostawiając Bee bez większych wyjaśnień.
Bee został sam w jednej chwili roztrzęsiony całą tą sytuacją, nie wiedząc co zrobić i czemu takie sytuacje tylko mu się przytrafiają, położył się znowu na swojej pryczy, założył słuchawki i oddał się ponownie w swój świat muzyki.
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ravensvirginity · 2 years ago
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Abnormality Dancin' Girl Diary Translation
Throughout the music video for the song Abnormality Dancin' Girl by Guchiry, you can see several diary entries written by the song's protagonist flash up on the screen. I haven't seen them translated anywhere, so I decided to give it a shot! Original Japanese under the cut under the translation.
-An ordinary girl’s futile struggle- 
x/x (Mon)
It’s cloudy today too.
I had a wonderful dream, but I can barely remember it. 
It seems my heart is somehow also in low spirits. 
I don’t feel anything. 
x/x (Tues)
It’s cloudy today too. 
I don’t feel like studying.
Since I wasn’t paying attention in class, 
it’s good I wasn’t called on.
x/x (Wed)
It’s cloudy today too.
There’s a test tomorrow.
Naturally, I’ll study.
x/x (Thurs)
It’s cloudy today too. 
Because I studied til dawn, I couldn’t sleep.
I was relieved. 
x/x (Fri)
It’s cloudy today too.
Tests without a break.
I feel like I solved the questions to some extent.
There was a use in studying.
x/x (Mon)
It’s cloudy today too.
The tests were returned.
What kind of strengthening is needed to still stay at around average marks?
I don’t feel anything. 
x/x (Tues)
It’s cloudy today too. 
I hear __ of my class entered a contest.
I don’t feel anything.
x/x (Wed)
It’s cloudy today too.
During recess, __ suddenly called me over.
Stupid rumors are spreading.
I don’t feel anything. 
x/x (Thurs)
It’s cloudy today too. 
I feel like something is wriggling in my head.
I’m uncomfortable.
x/x (Fri)
It’s cloudy today too.
When I looked in the mirror, it was dirty.
Even when I wipe, it doesn’t come off.
I’m uncomfortable.
x/x (Mon)
It’s cloudy today too.
During the morning assembly, __ was commended. 
I hear she got outstanding grades.
I don’t care.
I’m uncomfortable. 
x/x (Tues)
It’s cloudy today too. 
I hear the school festival plan is going to be submitted.
__ of my class is managing thoughtlessly, but 
everyone was eager. 
I’m uncomfortable. 
x/x (Wed)
It’s cloudy today too. 
It was decided the plan is to put on a play.
__ was excessively pleased.
__, the lead actress, gave me a behind the scenes role.
I was a little happy. 
My head hurts. 
x/x (Thurs)
It’s cloudy today too. 
Since more than half the class is stage crew,
a lot of people were starting preparations.
Something is irritating.
My head hurts. 
x/x (Fri)
It’s cloudy today too.
When I rubbed the mirror, it cracked.
My finger got cut a little.
I’m irritated.
x/x (Mon)
It’s cloudy today too.
All the voices talking around me are annoying.
__ asked me about production.
For a moment, I fumbled my words.
We could exchange words. 
x/x (Tues)
It’s cloudy today too.
The noises around me are annoying.
Since I messed up and put my hands on the ground in apology, my fingers became dirty.
I’m irritated. 
x/x (Wed)
It’s cloudy today too.
The noises echo in my head and annoy me.
Even if I wipe and wipe, the dirt doesn’t come off my fingers.
__ caught my eyes and laughed at me.
I don’t have that sort of qualification. 
x/x (Thurs)
It’s cloudy today too. 
__ has a pretty voice.
It’s not just that, she was completely abnormal to the point she’s perfect.
Why didn’t I realize until now, do you think? 
x/x (Fri)
It’s cloudy today too.
__ started talking to me.
That girl is abnormal to the point it stands out.
I think I was staring at __ all day long. 
x/x (Mon)
What does __ have that I don’t?
I tried a little to imitate the things __ carries.
I think my heart calmed down a little. 
x/x (Tues)
The mirror I just bought is dirty.
No matter how much I rub, it doesn’t come off.
x/x (Wed)
Like __, I tried talking with more people I’m surrounded by. 
I was always seen many times with different eyes. 
Somehow, I felt special. 
x/x (Thurs)
I boldly tried talking to __.
Unexpectedly, I thought I was able to talk to her.
But, I was blocked on my way over. 
I often don’t understand.
x/x (Fri)
I tried staring into the mirror’s filth.
Somehow, that state seemed pretty.
Without wiping it, for a moment I’ll try as it is. 
x/x (Sat)
I had a wonderful dream.
day/month (       ) 
day/month  (      ) 
x/x (Mon)
The mirror’s state changes every day. 
If I talked with __ she’d grin at me. 
I couldn’t hear her voice.
x/x (Tues)
Here for a few days I’ve had dreams I often don’t understand.
The mirror’s state is pretty. 
x/x (Wed)
Again, I dreamed that strangers were turning their eyes away from me.
My head hurts.
x/x (Thurs)
I dreamed I wore a dress and danced.
My head hurts.
x/x (Fri)
In my dream, __ danced with someone I don’t know.
Our eyes met the second before I woke up.
My head hurts.
x/x (Sat)
I went back to sleep five times.
I wanted to dream.
I’m irritated.
day/month (       ) 
x/x (Mon)
Pretty me.
Pretty you.
Is this love?
x/x (Tues)
I am me.
Who are you?
Are you also me?
x/x (Wed)
I want it to be a dream
x/x (Thurs)
i like you
x/x (Fri)
How I wish I could become a butterfly like you. 
x/x (Sat)
If my shoes reach the tips of my toes, are sleeves really necessary?
x/x (Sun)
One by one I sew them together.
Alongside the line, I stab the point.
I’m just a collection. 
x/x (Mon)
I disappeared!
x/x (Tues)
Dreams should have ended.
Yearning should’ve been thrown away.
x/x (Wed)
○○
__
x/x (Thurs)
you are me
i am you
x/x (Fri)
i like you
x/x (Sat)
Gross.
I felt like I had no feelings.
x/x (Sun) 
Look at me
x/x (Mon)
Look at me Look at me Look at me Look at me Look at me
Look at me Look at me Look at me Look at me Look at me
Look at me Look at me Look at me Look at me Look at me
x/x (Tues)
Looked 
x/x (Wed)
Everyone is noisy.
Annoying.
x/x (Thurs)
Annoying
x/x (Fri)
Annoying
x/x (Sat) 
I saw a butterfly
x/x (Sun) 
I became a butterfly 
day/month (       ) 
ー凡庸少女の悪足掻きー
✕月✕日(月) 今日も曇天。 不思議な夢を見ただけどあまり覚えていない。 心もなんだか塞ぎこんでいるみたい。 何も感じない。
✕月✕日(火) 今日も曇天。 勉強する気が起きない。 授業中も上の空だったので、 指名されなくてよかった。
✕月✕日(水) 今日も曇天。 明日からテスト。 流石に勉強する。
✕月✕日(木) 今日も曇天。 明け方まで勉強していたせいで眠れなかった。 スッキリした。
✕月✕日(金) 今日も曇天。 引き続きテスト。 ある程度問題が解けた気がする。 勉強した甲斐があった。
✕月✕日(月) 今日も曇天。 テストが返された。 どの強化もやっぱり平均点あたりでとどまった。 何も感じない。
✕月✕日(火) 今日も曇天。 クラスの_が大会に出るらしい。 何も感じない。
✕月✕日(水) 今日も曇天。 休み時間に突然_が呼び出されていた。 しょうもない噂が流れている。 何も感じない。
✕月✕日(木) 今日も曇天。 頭の中に何かが蠢いている感じがする。 居心地が悪い。
✕月✕日(金) 今日も曇天。 鏡をみたら汚れていた。 拭いても落ちない。 居心地が悪い。
✕月✕日(月) 今日も曇天。 朝礼で_が表彰されていた。 優秀な成績残したらしい。 どうでもいい。 居心地が悪い。
✕月✕日(火) 今日も曇天。 文化祭の企画を出すらしい。 クラスの_がやたら仕切っていたが、 みんな乗り気だった。 居心地が悪い。
✕月✕日(水) 今日も曇天。 企画は演劇に決定した。 _がやたらと喜んでいた。 主役になった_から劇の裏方に任命された。 少しうれしかった。 頭が痛い。
✕月✕日(木) 今日も曇天。 クラスの大半が裏方に回ったので、 大勢で準備に取り掛かった。 何かがむしゃくしゃする。 頭が痛い。
✕月✕日(金) 今日も曇天。 撫でたら鏡が割れた。 指を少し切った。 むしゃくしゃする。
✕月✕日(月) 今日も曇天。 周りでしゃべる声が煩い。 _から演出について尋ねられた。 咄嗟のことで噛んでしまった。 言葉を交わせた。
✕月✕日(火) 今日も曇天。 周りの音が煩い。 躓いて手をついたので指に汚れが付いた。 むしゃくしゃする。
✕月✕日(水) 今日も曇天。 音が頭を響いて煩わしい。 拭いても拭いても指の汚れが取れない。 _と目が合って笑ってくれた。 ワタシにそんな資格はない。
✕月✕日(木) 今日も曇天。 _の声は綺麗だ。 それだけじゃない、すべて異常なほどに完璧だった。 なぜ今まで気が付かなかったのだろう。
✕月✕日(金) 今日も曇天。 _が話しかけてくれた。 彼女は異常なほど目立っている。 一日_を見ていた気がする。
✕月✕日(月) _にあってワタシにないものは何か。 _が持っているもののを少し真似てみた。 少し心が落ち着いた気がする。
✕月✕日(火) 買ったばかりの鏡に汚れがついている。 どれだけ拭いても取れない。
✕月✕日(水) _のようにまわりにいつも以上に話しかけてみた。 いつもとは違う目で見られることが多かった。 なんだか特別な感じだ。
✕月✕日(木) 思い切って_に話かけてみた。 思いの他喋ることができたように思う。 ただ、途中で遮られてしまった。 よくわからない。 
✕月✕日(金) 鏡の汚れを見つめてみた。 なんだか模様が綺麗に見えた。 拭かずにしばらくそのままにしてみる。
✕月✕日(土) 不思議な夢を見た。
 月 日( )
 月 日( )
✕月✕日(月) 鏡の模様が日毎に変わっていく。 _に話しかけたら笑いかけられた。 声は聞けなかった。
✕月✕日(火) ここ数日よくわからない夢を見る。 鏡の模様が綺麗。
✕月✕日(水) また他人に目をそらされ続ける夢を見た。 頭が痛い。
✕月✕日(木) ドレスを着て踊る夢を見た。 頭が痛い。
✕月✕日(金) 夢で_が知らない誰かと踊っていた。 目が合った瞬間目が覚めた。 頭が痛い。
✕月✕日(土) 五度寝した。 夢を見ていたかった。 むしゃくしゃする。
 月 日( )
✕月✕日(月) きれいなわたし。 きれいなあなた。 これは、恋?
✕月✕日(火) わたしはわたし。 あなたはだれ? あなたもわたし?
✕月✕日(水) 夢であってほしい
✕月✕日(木) 好き
✕月✕日(金) あなたのような蝶に成れたらどれだけよかったか。
✕月✕日(土) 靴はつま先に合わせたものを、 袖は必要ないものか?
✕月✕日(日) ひとつひとつ縫い合わせる。 線に沿って、点に刺す。 ワタシだけのコレクション。
✕月✕日(月) わたしはワタシではなくなった!
✕月✕日(火) 夢は夢で終わるべきだった。 憧れは捨て去るべきだった。
✕月✕日(水) ○○
_
✕月✕日(木) あなたはわたし わたしはあなた
✕月✕日(金) 好き
✕月✕日(土) 気持ちが悪い。 気分が気分でない感覚だった
✕月✕日(日) ワタシを見て
✕月✕日(月) ワタシを見てワタシを見てワタシを見てワタシを見てワタシを見て ワタシを見てワタシを見てワタシを見てワタシを見てワタシを見て ワタシを見てワタシを見てワタシを見てワタシを見てワタシを見て
✕月✕日(火) 見た
✕月✕日(水) みんなが騒いでいる。 うるさい。
✕月✕日(木) うるさい
✕月✕日(金) うるさい
✕月✕日(土) 蝶を見た
✕月✕日(日) 蝶になった
 月 日( )
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tolkiens-middleearth · 1 year ago
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Topics & Themes in Tolkien’s Legendarium
The Perilous Realm
“Stories that are actually concerned primarily with ‘fairies,’ that is with creatures that might also in modern English be called ‘elves,’ are relatively rare, and as a rule not very interesting. Most good ‘fairy-stories’ are about the adventures of men in the Perilous Realm or upon its shadowy marches.” – J. R. R. Tolkien. On Fairy Stories.
Tolkien called it the Perilous Realm, Faery or Faërie, and for me these words represent one of the most fascinating theme in Tolkien’s Legendarium. It is both a narrative and a world-building element that can be found in all his major Middle-earth stories and is in a way essential for understanding Tolkien’s approach to his own created world.
Yet I feel it rarely gets talked about, so I want to briefly highlight what it is, how it functions in the narrative, and give a few examples from various stories. Unfortunately can’t go into a deep analysis because doing so would require me to write a book – which I would love to, but I don’t have the time or qualification). Quote sources and further reading recommendations are given at the end.
WANDERING INTO FAERY
 “It is common in Fairy tales for the entrance to the fairy world to be presented as a journey underground, into a hill or mountain or the like. [...] My symbol is not the underground, whether necrological and Orphic or pseudo-scientific in jargon, but the Forest […].” – J. R. R. Tolkien. “Smith of Wooton Major” essay.
The core of this theme is the mortal wanderer who comes to or crosses the borders of Faërie, the land of fairies or elves. This idea has been part of legends and myths for a long time, one of the most prominent examples probably being the island of Avalon in the Arthurian legend. Depending on the story, Faërie can occupy a different time and space than our own world, or share the same space or time “in different modes”. Getting into Faërie is not always possible and many things can stop someone from entering: it may be completely inaccessible, it may be hidden and people have to find it, or it may be accessible only to those who know the secret on how to enter it. Once you are there, it may be difficult to leave, or it may take some time. Being there could turn out to be dangerous, but it also doesn’t necessarily have to be. Tolkien wrote that “in it are pitfalls for the unwary and dungeons for the overbold”.
In The Lord of the Rings, there are many examples of such a realm, some barely noticeable and some very clear and detailed.
It starts subtle when Frodo, Sam and Pippin meet Gildor and his Elves near Woodhall. It is no specific realm that they enter, but just wandering with the Elves already lets the Hobbits experience something they are not used to. They have trouble finding words for it afterwards or remembering it clearly, with Tolkien describing it that for Pippin it felt like he was in a waking dream. The next example is then already more direct: the four Hobbits enter the Old Forest. This time it really is perilous for them, they get lost and cannot find a way out. Tolkien describes it as follows:
“They began to feel that all this country was unreal, and that they were stumbling through an ominous dream that led to no awakening.”
Frodo almost falls asleep near an enchanting river, Merry and Pippin almost die. Without the help of an unexpected inhabitant of this forest, they never would have gotten out.
Reaching Rivendell is another less clear example. Rivendell itself is easier accessible than the Old Forest and less perilous for the Hobbits. But reaching it also includes a river, a river that is under Elrond’s command and that rises “in anger when [Elrond] has great need to bar the Ford”.  And within Rivendell, Frodo experiences another kind of “Faërian Drama” as Tolkien calls it: the stories and songs told in Rivendell hold him “in a spell”, and “the enchantment became more and more dreamlike” until in the end Frodo falls asleep once more. Bilbo comments that it’s difficult to stay awake “until you get used to it”.
The most prominent example is of course Lothlórien, a land of Elves that is rarely visited by mortal beings and where the flow of time is indeed different than that in the outside world. It’s also well defended against wanderers, and both in the world and the narrative the fellowship has to pass through: there are guards at the boarders that have to be convinced, there is a river that has to be crossed, a hidden path that has to be taken blindfolded. Tolkien is in no rush to get the fellowship to Galadriel – the reader, together with the wanderers, have to experience this journey.
The purest form of this theme in The Lord of the Rings is, of course, Frodo and Bilbo leaving for the island Tol Eressëa at the end of the story. It is the longest journey into Faërie, a journey that only a few are allowed to take and that you won’t come back from. Tol Eressëa is no longer in the space of the human world, and it’s very telling that Tolkien named the haven on the eastern shore on the island Avallónë.
More examples can be found in Tolkien’s other stories, and I will mention them less detailed when talking about the actual centre of the theme:
THE MORTAL VISITOR
„It seemed to [Frodo] that he had stepped through a high window that looked on a vanished world. A light was upon it for which his language had no name. All that he saw was shapely, but the shapes seemed at once clear cut, as if they had been first conceived and drawn at the uncovering of his eyes, and ancient as if they had endured forever.” – J. R. R. Tolkien. The Lord of the Rings.
All of Tolkien’s major stories have one thing in common: they have someone human at the core who is unfamiliar with Faërie and able to experience it as new and from an outside perspective.
In The Hobbit it is Bilbo who stumbles into a world he is not prepared for at all, and while it is less clearly shown in the narrative of a children’s book, the journey of Bilbo and the Dwarves clearly show signs of this theme – a dangerous forest, an enchanted river, a white deer, and Elven fires that suddenly vanish.
For The Lord of the Rings I have shown above that all four Hobbits experience this in one way or another, although Frodo is probably the one given the most focus.
“This is a history in brief drawn from many older tales; for all the matters that it contains were of old, and still are among the Eldar of the West, recounted more fully in other histories and songs. But many of these were not recalled by Eriol, or men have again lost them since his day. This Account was composed first by Pengolod of Gondolin, and Aelfwine turned it into our speech as it was in his time, adding nothing, he said, save explanations of some few names.” – J. R. R. Tolkien. Quenta Silmarillion.
The Quenta Silmarillion is a different type of story, so here the theme also takes a different form: it’s not a narrative as The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings and more a historical chronicle in style. It’s written as such, but also given the corresponding context: when Tolkien was first writing the Book of Lost Tales and later the Quenta Silmarillion, the framework he had built for it was that of a mortal men coming to Tol Eressëa and learning of these past events. The one wandering into the Perilous Realm is Eriol or Ælfwine, listening to the stories of the Elves and writing them down for other humans to read. When Tolkien eventually started writing The Lord of the Rings, he was able to change his framing story. There was no longer a need for Ælfwine to reach Tol Eressëa to learn about these tales – now it’s Bilbo who wrote it down in three volumes called “Translations from the Elvish” that he had added to his private diary when he handed it over to Frodo.
This concept applies to the Quenta Silmarillion as a whole, but the main three stories within the Quenta Silmarillion still have a similar mortal visitor as The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings. In Beren and Lúthien, it’s the mortal Beren who wanders into the Elven Kingdom Doriath and gets enchanted when he sees Lúthien dancing and singing. In the Children of Húrin, it’s Túrin who enters Doriath as well, but also the Elven Kingdom Nargothrond. Both times, Túrin is unable to find the entrance himself; he is lead there by Elven guides – first Beleg, then Gwindor. And in the Fall of Gondolin, Tuor is led by an Elven guide to through many gates under a mountain to the Elven Kingdom Gondolin – one of the rarer cases of a "journey underground, into a hill or mountain".
And even the Akallabêth incorporates this theme, although in a different way than the previous stories. The story of the Fall of Númenor is about wanting to go to Faërie, and not being allowed to. There are other aspects to this as well of course, but looking at it with this theme in mind, that is the core of the story. Ar-Pharazôn is the mortal man who desires to reach Faërie, but when he tries to get there by force it ends in his death.
The mortal visitor as the protagonist in their story is essential for this theme to work. To experience Faërie as a visitor, to enter a “dream that some other mind is weaving” in such a way, it is a uniquely mortal experience that the reader could imagine to have, but that the immortal Elves can almost never share – after all they create their realms, they are the creator of a dream that the mortal wanderer, Tolkien as the writer, and we as the reader are dreaming.
THE CREATOR OF THE DREAM
“Faërie contains many things besides elves and fays, and besides dwarfs, witches, trolls, giants, or dragons: it holds the seas, the sun, the moon, the sky; and the earth, and all things that are in it: tree and bird, water and stone, wine and bread, and ourselves, mortal men, when we are enchanted.” – J. R. R. Tolkien. On Fairy Stories.
The immortal creators are not irrelevant of course, although they cannot be the centre of any story about wandering into the Perilous Realm. The outsider experience, essential for this theme, cannot come from the one living inside the Perilous Realm. The inhabitants in Tolkien’s stories are Elves most of the time – near Woodhall, in Rivendell, Lóthlorien, Mirkwood, Gondolin, Doriath and Nargothrond. But they are of course not the only creators of such realms. Dwarves come in and out of these stories, and in the case of the Old Forest the implication is that Old Man Willow is the main force behind the spell:
“His grey thirsty spirit drew power out of the earth and spread like fine root-threads in the ground, and invisible twig-fingers in the air, till it had under its dominion nearly all the trees of the Forest from the Hedge to the Downs.”
And of course the Valar and Maiar have their part in the story. Especially Tol Eressëa and Valinor are mainly built by the Valar, and in Middle-eath the magical boundaries of Doriath were set by Melian. In moments where Fëarie is not solely or not at all made by the Elves, they may enter the dream of another mind as well. It happened when the Elves first came to Valinor, and a more personal example is Thingol meeting Melian for the first time, where “an enchantment fell on him” in which he was caught for years without moving. This is only possible, however, when Elves meet someone with a creative power far greater than them – one of the Maia or above is required.  
However, this was never Tolkien’s focus. In Tolkien’s stories, the Perilous Realm is often a place inhabited by the Fair Folk – but I have also mentioned that sometimes Faërie exists in another mode. Throughout the examples given, dreams have been an important element of the experience of Faërie, and it’s one that Tolkien also thought a lot about. In our own world, we cannot reach Faërie in our space, but it may be approachable in another mode – through dreams. This becomes especially apparent in his texts The Lost Road and The Notion Club Papers, and it was also a part of how Tolkien saw his own relationship with his work: a mortal entering a dream of Faërie.  
ENDING THOUGHTS
There are many aspects of this that I haven’t touched on, and that I would love to explore or discuss. There is for example the case of Frodo, a mortal who has been in touch with something that belongs into the world of Faërie, that he cannot properly come back: when coming back to the Shire, Marry comments on how it feels like a dream is slowly fading, like he is waking up. Frodo however says: “To me it feels more like falling asleep again.” Already, it is clear he can never fully return.
Then there is the case of reversing the idea of Faërie in the case of Túrin – he is trying to bring Nargothrond closer to the outside world so that he can use its force in war. In return, he makes it accessible and the kingdom falls. In general, it’s a fascinating thing to see Túrin’s relationships with the Perilous Realms.  
Or if we talk about dreams, what about the nightmares? Is Mordor basically an anti-Faërie, inhabited by Orcs instead of Elves, where the path leads through a spider lair instead of over a river, and where any mortal being can only end up as a corrupted slave if they stay there for too long?
What about including such an essential theme in adaptations? In Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings movies, flawed as they may be at times, the experience of Faërie through the eyes of the Hobbits is notable – especially in Rivendell and Lóthlorien. Meanwhile in Amazon’s The Rings of Power, this theme is completely absent and the Elven realms in Middle-earth have no more mystery than a Harfoot camp or a random human village in the South.  
I hope I get to explore this theme more, I’ve been eager for month to write at least a tiny bit about it and it’s already way too long for tumblr again. But there are other themes that are also very interesting, so we’ll see how it’ll go…
If you have read up to here to the end I would like to thank you for your time and attention – both is much appreciated!
READ MORE ON THIS TOPIC
On Fairy Stories, an essay by J. R. R. Tolkien.
Smith of Wootton Major, by J. R. R. Tolkien.
The Lost Road, fragments by J. R. R. Tolkien.
The Notion Club Papers, fragments by J. R. R. Tolkien.
Faërie: Tolkien’s Perilous Land, an essay by Verlyn Flieger.
A Question of Time, by Verlyn Flieger.
QUOTE SOURCES
J. R. R. Tolkien. On Fairy Stories.
J. R. R. Tolkien. The Lord of the Rings.
J. R. R. Tolkien, edited by Christopher Tolkien. The Silmarillion.
J. R. R. Tolkien; edited by Veflyn Flieger. Smith of Wootton Major ‘Extended Edition’, Smith of Wootton Major essay.
J. R. R. Tolkien, edited by Christopher Tolkien. The Lost Road and other Writings, Quenta Silmarillion.
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backagainpodcast · 1 year ago
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Hello! I absolutely love BABA, it is everything I need in a comfort media, especially during exam season. Do you have any advice for people looking into writing podcasts? Like audio editing programs or writing tips or anything else that's come up in your process? If you do, thanks so much! But regardless, I adore this podcast and I hope you're having a wonderful day!
hello! thank you so much for listening, and I really really hope your exams go well <<33
My writing advice is the kind that I feel like deserves to get me shook, but it's the truest I know --- write a lot, write every day or as often as you can manage it, write like it is the thing that you must do to keep you alive. Write like it's at the top of your to-do list, write knowing that as long as you write something that day, whatever else happens, it can be enough. Choose a word count and try to reach it every day. Choose a duration of time and make sure you set it aside. Just --- write. Note the things that are important to you and mean the most to you, and you'll never run out of ways to talk about them.
When I am drafting, I aim for 500 words a day (but please god find what works for you don't take this as anything other than an example.) Sometimes I kick and scream to that point and don't go any further. Oftentimes, after 500, the words are loose enough that I can keep going. Stack 'em up. The more you have, the less each one matters. The longer you get into the habit of hitting a word count, the easier it is to do!!
From the podcasting side of things, I have no idea what I'm doing, ever, which means that I am NOT the best person to get good advice from, but I CAN tell you how to duct-tape a podcast together. My tips---
Take the time to learn how to use Audacity (or whatever audio editing software you'd like -- audacity is just FREE, we LOVE) get yourself a mic that fits in your budget (my blue yeti has been going solid for years and years and has survived several moves!), and get talkin'.
Likewise, take your time editing. Get a sense of how much you can reasonably do between episodes, and don't overwork yourself. It's better to have a consistent schedule for releases than a sporadic one, even if that means episodes are farther apart :) BABA comes out twice a month and I could not consistently do any more without losing my mind. Maybe that's not the case for you, but figure it out!!
Uh --- I use Anchor, which is now "Spotify for Podcasters," because, again, it's free. Freemusicarchive.org is where BABA's theme music (Nightingales by Pierce Murphy) comes from, and just do some googling about what each attribution right means so you're respecting people's wishes.
I also cannot recommend enough writing the whole season before you start recording. Editing and recording and editing episodes is enough every two weeks -- I couldn't imagine also having to write the episode on top of that :')
(But again -- maybe you're different!! Maybe it's no problem for you! The biggest thing is figuring out how you can stretch and how you cannot and adapting.)
But I think the biggest thing is having a story that you want to tell and that excites you, if no one else. It's going to be a lot of talking to yourself in empty rooms and listening to yourself through headphones and the only way to get through is to love something about it :')
I finally must encourage you to take all of this with a grain of salt, as I'm just Some Guy with no real qualifications except that I snuck in the back door and no one kicked me out fast enough. But that is the glorious thing about audio drama!!! Anyone can make anything!!!
Good luck, good luck, and always reach back out if there's something more substantial I can help you with :)
Very best, always,
Abigail <3
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