#writeblr a to z

[kaatiba]

Legends of Mourra ✧ An Encyclopedia

↳ Al’Amain is a south-eastern kingdom with the strongest naval force in the country of Khaldun, and was established shortly after Mourra’s founding, making it the second oldest of the Three Kingdoms. It is known primarily for its exceptional oud, ships, and timber due to its proximity to the Khadra Wood, for it alone has trade agreements with the Xyl, who call the Khadra Wood their home and who are the only people that can safely harvest from the Wood.

Al’Amain is also known for its pearls and glass beads. In general, it is an incredibly wealthy kingdom, with an established naval trade with Ubar and Sinia (two lands of the far East).

Al'Amaini fashion tends to be flowy, multilayered, heavily beaded, and very colourful. They tend to wear long tunics paired with wide-legged trousers and elaborate turbans, regardless of gender. Al'Amaini's do not generally practice polygyny, unlike Mourrans and Numanis.

Al’Amain and Mourra have long been sister-kingdoms and close allies. It is Sirin’s birthplace, and she and Haitham (the king of Mourra) were betrothed at birth. At a young age, Sirin was brought from Al’Amain to live in Mourra and learn all she needed to be queen.

Al’Amain is ruled by Sirin’s grandmother Bilqis with her king-consort Salahadin, himself a Mourran and Haitham’s grand-uncle. Al’Amain’s rulership is through matrilineal primogeniture.

[Inspiration: Fatimid Caliphate, the Amazigh (Berbers), Tunis, and the Rain Queen of Balobedu]

original images via: Bas Glaap, Haythem Gataa, Janik Lierfeld, Khalil Yamoun, Kirill Pershin, Marin Tulard on Unsplash

lofm taglist (open!): @poetinprose​, @jellybeanswriting​, @treesandwords​, @sculpture-in-a-period-drama​

general writing taglist (open!): @muddshadow​, @lockejhaven​

[nondelphic]

gen z writer starter pack

makes spotify playlists for their characters

and pinterest mood boards

has an entire folder of writing memes for "inspiration"

types out long, angsty scenes at 3 a.m. and never looks at them again

buys aesthetic notebooks but only writes in them once

uses random name generators for every side character

plans out a detailed backstory for every character, but forgets to finish the plot

bonus points: imagines the cast for the movie adaptation before finishing the first chapter

[kaatiba]

Legends of Mourra ✧ An Encyclopedia

↳ The Anqa’ is a pure white, crane-like bird with two pairs of wings, a golden crest, and a beak and talons of gold. Her voice is the most beautiful in all of Creation, moving even stone to tears. It is said that the folk hero Bilal’s voice was nearest to hers in beauty.

The Anqa’ lives in the Garden of the Sun at the summit of Jabal Qaf, which no other being can ascend. Her tears heal all ailments and poisons, and her wings fan the flames of the sun at her enemies. She is characterized as a wise and merciful creature and has a lifespan of thousands of years.

Near the end of her life, she lays a single egg of white marble ribboned with gold, from which her successor will hatch only upon her death—for the shell of her egg is softened by the white fire of her immolation. Rarely sighted, she is considered a harbinger of good fortune and great change.

[Inspiration: the Anqa’ from The Wonders of Creation, the phoenix, the firebird, golden-crested cranes]

original images via: Peter Neumann, alan braeley on Unsplash

general writing taglist (open!): @lockejhaven, @muddshadow

lofm taglist (open!): @jellybeanswriting, @treesandwords

[geek-22]

I have a confession to make.

I find editing physically painful, I avoid it at all costs.

There. I've said it.

[and7gore]

Uhhh hey!! I guess this is my first post out here in the Tumblrverse. Maybe I’m manic, maybe I’m actually doing something useful? Who knows. Let’s all ride the wave together. I’m Andy.

•I’m in my early 20s, looking for a clean slate social media platform, maybe a following, just looking to share my art with the world somehow and figured this would be how??

•I really like frogs, the color green, being a general queer freak of nature, and talking about existentialism :3

• I have four pet toads, Big Mama, Peepy, Opal, and Jolene

• I’m a former GenZ niche animation memer from the mid 2010s. (If Trinsanitystudios, Bluewolfanimations, or even Peace, Love and WK on YouTube ring a bell, you’re an OG. 🫡)

• I’m in a lovely lifelong partnership with the loveliest girl to ever walk this earth (stfu I’m not biased) 💍

• Aaaand,, my favorite fruit is anything citrus-y 🍊🍋

That’s the basics of me, you’ll get to know me and my chaotic life better soon the more I post :3 Thank you in advance for taking this journey with me. (Have a couple toad pictures for your troubles)

[the-golden-comet]

❄️✨Alpha-Write tag✨❄️

Thank you for the tag @katenewmanwrites and @drchenquill [x] ! Created by @agirlandherquill 💖 (doubling this as a writing share as well, from @rivenantiqnerd . Thank you as well for the tag! ✨)

Rules: for every letter of the alphabet, compose a sentence/short paragraph beginning with that letter

I want to make a story out of this, so here is a short-horror story: “A Breath in the Cold, Dreaded Evening Frost”

A

All of them, every single one, had vanished.

B

Before the final day, I took a deep breath.

C

“Call out to me,” I begged. No one responded.

D

Death lurked around every corner.

E

Everywhere the stench of decay and rot stung at my nostrils, only dampened by the snow.

F

“Fire….” I shivered. “…I need to make a fire.”

G

Going into the forest, I gathered a few twigs and leaves.

H

Hardly any kindling was left. The forest was quiet.

I

I took another deep breath.

J

“Just stay calm…” I whispered in a shaky rasp.

K

Knowing there was little hope left, my pulse caught in my throat. My fingers shook in the frost.

L

“Let me live….” I whimpered.

M

More whispers in the biting wind screeched like banshees in my ears.

N

“No one is left.”

O

“Only you have remained. And here you will die.”

P

“P-Please work….” I stuttered on my frostbitten lips, striking the kindling against the sparse twigs and hoping to ignite a blaze.

Q

Quiet winds tousled my stiff hair. It was too quiet here.

R

Reality clutched at my heart. Nobody was left. All of them, every single one, had vanished.

S

Sobbing, I finally struck a spark from the flint. Embers smouldered a bright red as I nursed the flame.

T

Time is running out.

U

Under my hands, the fire died out. There was nothing left.

V

Very faintly, I drew my final breath. The final day.

W

Weeping, weary, I closed my eyes.

X

Xenon filled the air as a faint light grew. In the whispers of the wind, I heard it:

Y

“You are next.”

Z

Zero days remain.

Tagging (no pressure): @fortunatetragedy , @autism-purgatory , @cowboybrunch , @deanwax , @noblebs , @bookish-karina , @jev-urisk , @noxxytocin , @illarian-rambling , @willtheweaver , @aintgonnatakethis , @avaseofpeonies , @katenewmanwrites , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @fantasy-things-and-such , @far-cry-from-finality , @talesofsorrowandofruin , @theaistired , @i-hate-happy-endings , @ath3alin , @dyrewrites , +open tag!✨

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 9!!

Beginning || Previous || Next

*****************

You pound your way to the nearest bar, where everyone had agreed to meet. The three of them are standing around, talking over glasses of wine. Your hands are in fists, your nails digging into your palms as you approach. They acknowledge you as you enter their field of vision, but you say nothing. Instead, you beeline for Aziraphale, put your arms around him, and hang on for dear life. Sometimes you just need to hug an angel.

There’s a pause where Anathema says something about your aura, and then Aziraphale hugs you back.

Dear Reader, I’m not sure if it ever happened in your life, but for this Puffin there came a time when it was made very clear that wanting to be held or wanting to lean on another person in public was unacceptable (and, in fact, embarrassing) once you reached a certain age. And yet, we as humans are social creatures. The need to be held is a very normal response, especially after something particularly upsetting happens (like having the sanctity of washroom privacy violated, for example). Perhaps you’re not the kind of person who, out of nowhere, feels the desire to be held, but perhaps you know someone who is. And so, I would like to impress upon you the incredible difference it makes, the immeasurable relief it brings, to know that you have someone with you who will hold you back without question or comment. Just hold you, and wait.

Aziraphale makes it clear he intends to do just that.

“Take your time, dear,” he says gently. And so you do.

After a moment, the clink of a glass next to you makes you look up. Someone has given you a glass of the same wine everyone else has. You pull away and take a sip, feeling much calmer and very grateful.

“Thanks,” You say.

“Anytime,” Aziraphale replies.

“What happened?” Anathema asks.

Thus, you recount how Metatron trapped you in the washroom until he had said his peace. By the time you finish, there are three very angry faces around you. You feel validated enough to take another, much larger, sip of the wine. Aziraphale is the first to speak.

“Well for starters, I invite you to stay in my bookshop however long you like. Pet indeed! You are a help, yes, but you are a guest, and certainly not disposable, whatever he says.”

“And,” Crowley adds, “From what you said, Aziraphale and I can get you home whenever you want anyway. Probably, I mean. No dUbIOus motives involved, at least.”

Anathema seems to be thinking. After another few seconds, she asks:

“Why did you take the coffee?”

You all look at her, surprised.

“Well I mean,” she continues, “If the Metatron wants to know, he probably has a reason. If you tell us, maybe we can figure it out for ourselves and find a way around it.”

“Or they could just not tell him,” Crowley suggests with snark. “Then it doesn’t matter.”

“I mean, it might,” Anathema counters, “We don’t know that it doesn’t.”

“I took it because of the Coffee Theory,” You say with a shrug. It’s not like it’s a big deal. “But I mean, I don’t know why that would matter to him.”

“Well,” Anathema says, “That might depend on what the Coffee Theory is.”

“Well, it’s the idea that the Metatron did something to that coffee he was going to give Aziraphale. To, like, make Aziraphale trust him, or listen to him or whatever, so that he would go back to Heaven.” You pause. “There’s also an interpretation of it where it was a metaphor like ‘take my offer or face death.’ But most people think about the first one, and that’s the one that was in my brain when I did it. There aren’t a lot of people who actually believe it. I mean, not anymore, anyway.”

“So you think the Metatron drugged Aziraphale’s coffee?” Anathema raises an eyebrow. “And you drank it, yes? So...did he?”

“No,” You reply, “It was exactly what it was supposed to be. An oat milk latte with almond syrup. And I didn’t think he actually messed with it. I just wasn’t willing to take the chance, that’s all.”

Crowley’s face scrunches. “And you think he might need to know that for some reason?” He looks pointedly at Anathema.

“He might,” She gives a thoughtful hum. “I’ll think about it. I might ask the Cards later.”

-----------

The wait for boarding didn’t feel so long after that. As you board, you notice how spacious First Class is. Aziraphale and Crowley sit in the seats ahead of you and Anathema, with Aziraphale in the window seat. You notice Crowley casually trying to stick his legs out into the aisle and wonder vaguely whether it’s because he needs the space, or to try and trip the flight attendants. Both? Probably both. Okay, definitely both, you note, as a stewardess almost falls face-first into the aisle. Aziraphale gently swats at Crowley in reprimand, but you can tell it’s half-hearted and wholly-fond.

Your only trouble comes when you need to use the washroom, but Anathema, ever clever and aura-observant, suggests to go with you so that you can knock if anything goes wrong. Thankfully, nothing does, and you both return to your seats.

“You know,” Anathema says, leaning forward, “I just overheard the strangest thing. It seems that all of the normal airline food on this plane has gone missing. All that they have to serve is the first-class food.”

“Wait,” You say, holding back a laugh, “So everyone on this flight gets to eat the fancy, chef-prepared, gourmet meals?”

Crowley doesn’t hold back his laugh. “Oh, the big bosses won’t like that!”

“You two wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?” Anathema asks suspiciously. You notice she’s smiling while she says it.

“Psh!” Crowley waves away the thought. “Why would I? Doesn’t matter to me either way.”

“Honestly, Miss Device,” Aziraphale adds, “I have no idea why you immediately accuse us of something that seems so clearly to be a mere...clerical error.”

Ah-ha! Culprit found. Clerical error your arse.

“You know,” You sigh, “It really is no wonder why Crowley loves you so much.”

“Ngk,” says Crowley. Aziraphale responds with a pleased-sounding hum. You relax, and notice between the seats that Aziraphale places his hand on top of Crowley’s and leaves it there.

They like holding hands – your insides scream.

--------

When you disembark from the plane, you hear all the other passengers around you complimenting the flight attendants on the excellent food and promising to leave excellent reviews online. You keep your laughter as quiet as you can. Aziraphale’s little prank is going to cause the airline issues for YEARS. Crowley must be so proud.

The speed and ease with which you clear customs and baggage claim is probably because you’re traveling with two supernatural entities. In no time at all, you’re outside of the airport flagging down a cab. Crowley opens the door with enthusiasm and outright glee.

“After you, Angel,” he says, “You think 90 miles an hour in London is bad, I can’t wait for you to see this!”

Dear Reader, I don’t know if you have ever been to New York City, but I assure you that Crowley’s driving has nothing on the NYC cabbies. Aziraphale spends the entire drive trying to hold on to something and taking deep breaths as the cab violently jerks to a stop millimeters from the car in front. You suggest he close his eyes. He does. It doesn’t seem to help.

-------

The taxi lets you out in front of The Ritz. Because of course you’re staying at The Ritz. Aziraphale goes to check in while Crowley tells Anathema he needs the washroom, and mutters to you that he wants to empty all the soap dispensers. You try so hard to hold in your laughter that it comes out your nose anyway. The demon flashes you a cheeky grin before disappearing around the corner. Anathema looks at you.

“Probably been a while since he had a fresh audience,” You say to her. She chuckles.

“And you’re so obliging too. No doubt he’s having a great time with all this.”

“Hey, Anathema,” You begin uncertainly, “How...I mean...I’m just worried about...things. How are we going to find Jesus anyway? I just...I don’t really have anymore information to give. I don’t even know if he’s going to be a baby or an adult this time.”

“Hm...” Anathema thinks for a minute, “Well, I’m going to try and get some readings, see if I can get some kind of direction for us to go in. It’s a big country, but what I’m hoping is that it will sort of work like dowsing.”

“Dowsing? Like looking for water with sticks?”

“Sort of. In a nutshell, you pay attention to the vibrations in the Earth, and the closer you get, the stronger the vibrations become. It makes sense to think that Jesus would make pretty noticeable vibrations. That’s my working hypothesis anyway.”

You nod. That will do for now. Aziraphale and Crowley both return, with the demon wiping his hands on his trousers, and the four of you take the elevator to your room.

The Royal Suite.

“Are...you….serious??” Anathema asks. Honestly, you’re too stunned looking around the enormous suite with four bedrooms to say anything. It’s bigger than most houses. You take out your phone and start taking pictures.

“Well, if we’re going to stay at The Ritz,” Aziraphale says cheerfully, pronouncing the capital letters, “Best to do it Properly.”

“But this is ridiculous!”

Aziraphale isn’t paying attention anymore. He’s gone to tell Crowley not to draw mustaches on the expensive artwork.

“Unlimited resources,” You say to her, “Make for expensive taste.”

“No, kidding,” she sighs, “I’m glad you’re here. I’m gonna need some help with these two.”

Ha, You think to yourself, I knew it.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

^ If you want to see JUST how ridiculous the royal suite is.

[chillwildwave]

Some 4*TOWN/ Turning Red memes I made cuz this fandom is starving:

[dxsies-coffin]

"I am such a dying star, let me float until I fall."

-line from a poem I've written that I think is better than the poem itself.

[nondelphic]

hey does writeblr actually like writing cuz it seems like all you do is complain about how much you hate writing

[thisismynamenowxpoetry]

ATTENTION GEN Z, I know we hate poetry, but please, if you've ever felt alone, or hated technology, or hated Gen Alpha, please read this, repost, do whatever, but please, this was written for all of you <3

The news this morning 

Was talking about how we go to Chat GPT

For therapy

And advice

And my mother said it’s just because we don’t know how

To communicate face to face

When why should we?

You shoved an iPad into our faces

The second we were old enough to comprehend it

You put on the TV

And we believed the characters were speaking live

And they could see us

Through those pixels

Why shouldn’t we turn to a computer

To give us answers

When it’s that that gave us the issues to begin with?

Why shouldn’t we

Chat with a computer

About nothing and everything

When it is that 

That made us feel so isolated?

People wonder

Why we’re so concerned about Gen Alpha

And it’s obvious

When we think about it

It’s not because they’re growing up too fast

It’s because we know what it’s like

To have wires shoved into our veins

And now

Now they were born with them

Already pulsing through their blood

We don’t want them to make the same mistakes we did

But I think it’s too late,

They’re already turning into what we don’t want

Anyone

To ever be

And it’s scary to watch,

We know what technology has done to us

And we don’t want to watch anyone else

Succumb to it like we did

We are the last generation

Who went outside to play

And know what birds sound like

And wish to break their phones

We are the last generation

That will ever

Ever 

Have a normal childhood

Now we can just watch

As the depression rates get higher

And more young children know what suicide is

Too early

And learn how to self harm

And lose their innocence

And be scared of men

And not care for dolls

We are scared of them

But we’re scared for them

Of course we turn to AI to talk to

Our parents don’t get it,

They can barely find opening hours for a shop,

While we can find a 10-step guide on how to murder,

Or build a bomb,

And guides on how to manipulate your body

And everything is at our fingertips

This is generational trauma that they have created

We can watch someone shooting their brains out

And we can receive photos from anyone

And why do we know what everything we shouldn’t worry about is?

We had COVID

And we turned to screens

And went on TikTok

And created trends

And it felt like a community

Until everyone was there

And we couldn’t do anything

And we got addicted

And we can’t turn back

We started with chat rooms

And we found like minded-people

And it was always “sweetie, be careful of creeps on the internet”

And now it’s just

“Be in bed by 10”

But we’ll keep scrolling

And we all have friends who live half the world away

And if you mention that

Someone has to ask if you’ve called yet

And “have you seen their face?”

We can look at anything

There are guides for everything

We know where Kim K was two minutes ago

And why do I feel pressure to always have something on my story?

We talk to robots

Because no adults will ever know

How sick we feel 

Before we go on our phones

No adults can know

How we’ve seen every scar

And depression become a trend

And we have to use the hashtag actuallyautistc

No adults will know

How there are video essays on anything

And we shouldn’t know about everyone that has been raped

Or murdered

And we shouldn’t have wikihow

On how to be attractive

It started as a joke,

How stupid is this thing I found?,

But we keep reading it

And we start to believe it

Why would we read books?

Technology is constantly advancing

Everything is irrelevant in months

And we must be careful not to be cancelled

And a dress can divide a nation

We don’t want to watch Gen Alpha

Leap so blindy into their screens

Trusting what they read,

We want to keep it for us,

We have to live with it,

And as much as they suck,

It is our fault for staying 

And posting everything

We are a sad generation with happy pictures

And a face full of makeup

And we’re just perpetuating stereotypes

And you can’t like something unless you’re obsessed

We can know the cure for any medical condition

But there is no guide on how to destory our screens

And lives

And I know I’m fifteen

But this is ruining mine,

And so many others' lives.

We don’t want to see little kids

On their mums phones

And my mother defends it,

Saying mums just need a minute to breathe,

But please

Anything else

I don’t want to see a baby already addicted to CocoMelon

We don’t want to see

More people falling into a hole

And we know it’s why we’re sad

But nobody else should have to go through it,

That’s for us,

That’s an us problem

I saw a six year old

Using Drunk Elephant

And swearing in her GRWM

And none of that is fair,

How are we letting this slide?

But we can’t do anything

Because we don’t want to admit there’s a problem

We can learn anything about Hitler

And anything about Meryl Streep

And it can be within the same two fucking clicks

I remember

When my age on TikTok clocked over to 15

A few days before my actual birthday

And it was then

That all I saw was suicide notes,

And self harm scars

And how to hide things from your parents guides

And abuse stories

There was no going back,

Every other person whose a teenage girl on the app

Is probably met with the same things as me

The algorithm

Is designed to show you a positive video

Every few scrolls

Just to keep you hooked,

And it works,

It’s a science,

It works to a T

We can know where any friend is

And read receipts plague us

And anything will be screenshot

And used against you

School thought taking away our phones 

Would fix this,

Like it’s a magical cure,

When all it’s teaching us

Is how addicted we are,

And how best to hide an earbud

And we need music to concentrate!

Or course we do,

We have constant stimulation

It is never quiet

There is always a voice talking

We are getting mad at kids for being on a phone

When we all know

We’re just mad that it is actually happening

And we can’t warn them

And no one will listen

Because how could it be that bad?

In ten years

People who grew up with technology 

Are going to end up with something like PTSD

Because we can’t let go of it

We can’t put it down,

We can get an essay written for us in seconds,

And Dall-E can make anything for us

So of course we’ll talk to AI,

It’s better than talking to a real person

And acting like we’re okay,

We’d rather sit behind a screen

And control sims

And listen to music

So we can’t hear our minds

Every time I scroll through

I’m met with tales of girls who get killed by their fathers,

Every time I scroll through

I’m showen another 7 second video

With sad litte text

On sad little faces

We want to escape,

We want to tear our veins out,

Rip the wires,

Shove them back in to our body

After we re-wire our brains,

Of course,

Because we can diagnose ourselfs with any mental illness

That we see fit

Because there has to be something wrong with you

We will never go back,

It is impossible 

We have Whispers from Pinterest

And sad purple quotes

Lining our camera roll

Which should highlight our happy moments

But is just videos of us crying

It has ruined relationships,

How dare we follow another guy,

How dare he like another girl's photo?

We have our music right there

We don’t have to learn lyrics,

We can play any instrument,

We must like Taylor Swift,

We must have Kanye West

Everything is a trend

And your clothes must match your aesthetic

And you have to be funny

Or smart

Or creative

And how dare we burn out?

How dare we burn out

When if we didn’t rot in our beds

Scrolling aimlessly

Would solve half our problems?

There is no fix now,

We have to watch them grow up

Knowing they’ll ask what this-big-word is

Before they’re even five

Because an ad came up on mummy’s phone

And “what’s a vape?”

And “am I fat?”

All we can do now

Is listen to our sad songs

And act like social media

Didn’t ruin our perceptions

On everything.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Kahlil Gibran. Mark Twain. Christa Wolf. Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson. George Eliot. Jhumpa Lahiri. Sappho. Robert Burton. Victor Hugo. William Hope Hodgson. Mark Z. Danielewiski. H.G. Wells.

[kaatiba]

Legends of Mourra ✧ An Encyclopedia

↳The Elyoud are a race of giant, winged beings that reside upon Jabal Qaf, that mystical mountain that serves as a gateway between the realms of the Seen and the Unseen. They are said to be very beautiful, extraordinarily long-lived, and generally benevolent to humankind, though they tend to be fey in nature nevertheless. They are ruled by a queen, and she is always succeeded by a favoured daughter. In the Diaran Empire, they are regarded as demigods and venerated as such.

Rarely do the Elyoud leave their mountain for anything but battle against the djinn. Their preferred weapons are bow and spear, but they fight with the sword as well. All their weapons blaze with an unearthly fire that is fatal to the djinn. It is said any arrow fletched with a feather from the wing of an Elyoud will never miss its mark. Their mounts are the winged steeds the haizum, which are wild and will submit to no hand but theirs.

[Inspiration: Pari, Elioud, Nephilim, the Fair Folk]

original images via: Samuel Ridge, Possessed Photography, Duncan Sanchez on Unsplash

general writing taglist (open!): @lockejhaven​​

lofm taglist (open!): @muddshadow​​, @hyba​​, @jellybeanswriting​​, @treesandwords​

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Tag Game: Alpha-write

Thanks to @agirlandherquill for creating the tag game! And to @willtheweaver for the double tag.

Rules: for every letter of the alphabet, compose a sentence/short paragraph beginning with that letter

Tagging @fourwingedwriter @thewritingautisticat @rivenantiqnerd @pluttskutt @i-can-even-burn-salad

@aalinaaaaaa @elizaellwrites @annakayy and open tag! :D

This is long so I'll put it under the cut:

A: And of course, the plan didn't work.

B: "But---!" "Hush," he quietly put a finger over his lips. "Someone's coming."

C: Couldn't they just pretend that none of this was happening?

D: "Don't. Just don't."

E: Everyone fell silent at her words, processing the bombshell she had just dropped in their laps.

F: Four feet of distance. Four feet too much. Four feet too little.

G: "Get them."

H: How much longer must they wait to act? How much longer was too long? They had to act, or the enemy would.

I: "I..." he stammered, eyes wide, "I... I need a minute." "Of course."

J: "Just go. Please." And she did.

K: "Klutz," he muttered under his breath as he limped away from the offending piece of furniture.

L: Looking at the indicated object more closely did nothing to help her understanding. It was pretty? She couldn't guess why it was so important.

M: "My, my... how interesting."

N: No. Nononono. Anything but that.

O: "Oh fuck this shit."

P: "Please... please stop...."

Q: Quaint. That was the only word he could think to describe it.

R: "Run. Run far, far away and never come back."

S: Seating herself on the ground, she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

T: The cloaked figure stood at the edge of the darkness, unmoving. He couldn't see their face, but he knew they were watching him. Waiting.

U: Underwater. Of course it would be underwater. Typical.

V: "Valuable. Very valuable indeed." "That's not helpful." "I never said it was."

W: "Well... shit."

X: "Xeroradio-what now?" (xeroradiography)

Y: "You know exactly what I'm talking about." "Yeah and I wish I fucking didn't."

Z: Zinc alloy. It couldn't be anything else.

[whereverpoetswenttodie]

The horrors of wanting a guy who doesn't give a shit about you but also wanting a guy who's completely obsessed with you

[v-67]

Also I must say

Taking a twist on the tale of Cinderella

I loved the way these two Anime depicted it

The play from Kamigami no Asobi, where Thoth(?) gave a spin on the narrative and the glass slipper ended up breaking. I don't remember exactly everything but I remember loving their own twist to the play.

I remembered this one because I saw the second one today

School Babysitters, where the granny asks the mirror who is the person who studies the most, and so on, it wasn't a play play, but it was, the dwarves were the cutest though.

But the part I love is that we've atleast in some sense transcended from the stereotypes of the original stories. Not that the original stories were bad, they were/may have been good and relatable in their own times, but the world has been changing and every generation, for good or for bad, needs their own spin off, their own original, the one they relate to and the one that makes us move closer towards the changing world, relate to it

So I love seeing different depictions of original stories.

Having said what I did, I do understand though how people before us have felt watching the cartoons we did when we were kids, because when I see kids today watch the cartoons they do, I irk so hard. It's sad but it's okay, can't do much about it. My mom loved watching duck tales, I never heard about them or watched them because it stopped running by then. I loved/still love watching Shinchan, Phineas and Ferb, Dragon ball Z, Tom and Jerry, Ben10, and so on. But my uncle's kids watch YouTube and Cocomelon on Netflix and it's kinda sad. One of them watches anime with me though, so that's nice (only kid friendly anime dw)

I know it's weird but watching cartoons on tv and waiting for it to be back after the Ad breaks, and having set times for the cartoons so you'd watch your favourite cartoon at this time. It was its own sort of fun.

So as I said, with each generation, for better or for worse, they'll have their own spin off, their own thing. And we can complain about it, but the world keeps changing and so we must move ahead with happy memories. We can still form our own traditions though.