#More Profound Queue

[starrywangxian]

little mushroom manhua panels that look like movie posters

part 16 / ∞

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[nerdydaydreamer]

You Give Morpheus New Dream Ideas

MASTERLIST

The ethereal, shifting corridors of the Dreaming were Morpheus's dominion, and tonight, they were also the proving ground for your particularly unbridled imagination. You followed in his silent wake, a vibrant splash of mortal chaos against his midnight cloak and the quiet dignity of his stride. He moved with the slow, deliberate grace of a king surveying his realm, and you, with the breathless enthusiasm of a child in a candy store.

"Okay, okay, Morpheus, hear me out," you chirped, your voice echoing just slightly in the vast, whispering spaces of his palace. "What about a dream where everyone communicates solely through interpretive dance? No words, just… jazz hands and dramatic leaps. Or, for a nightmare, maybe one where all the food turns into sentient, judgmental broccoli the moment you try to eat it."

Morpheus continued to walk, his back to you, a living silhouette against the ever-changing tapestries of his halls. He didn't acknowledge you, not with a glance, not with a twitch of his elegant shoulder. This was their usual dynamic when you found him wandering: you spouting delightful nonsense, Morpheus embodying stoic indifference.

"Oh! Oh! This one’s good," you pressed on, undeterred. "A dream where all the furniture can talk, but they only ever complain about your decorating choices. Imagine your couch sighing dramatically about your throw pillows! And for a nightmare… a relentless jingle, Morpheus, a truly inescapable, infuriatingly catchy jingle that plays on a loop in your head forever."

You paused, taking a breath. "Or how about a dream where you can fly, but only if you hold a rubber chicken? And if you let go, you plummet into a giant bowl of lukewarm noodle soup!" Your laughter bubbled, light and clear in the hallowed silence. "And then, a nightmare: a perpetual queue. You're always in line, but the line never moves, and you're always slightly too far from the front to see what you're waiting for."

Just as you were concocting a scenario involving sentient teacups and tap-dancing squirrels, Morpheus stopped. He didn't turn fully, but he shifted, a subtle pivot of his lean frame, his head tilting ever so slightly towards you. The air in the Dreaming seemed to hold its breath.

Then, in a voice like rustling silk and ancient stone, a voice that rarely betrayed anything beyond profound gravitas, he said, "A perpetual queue. Always in line, never moving, slightly too far to see the purpose." He paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes. "That one's actually not a bad idea."

He then pivoted back to his original trajectory and continued walking, as if the profound utterance had never happened.

You, however, were frozen. Your mouth hung slightly agape. You stood there for a long moment, the echo of his words reverberating in your mind. Then, a slow smile spread across your face. You reached up and lightly brushed imaginary dust off your shoulder, a small, triumphant gesture.

"Right then," you muttered to yourself, your voice now filled with renewed purpose. You quickly realized Morpheus was already several steps ahead, his form starting to blend with the shifting mists of the palace. "Hey, Sandy! Wait up!" you yelled, quickening your pace to catch up. "I've got more ideas! What about a dream where all the animals can talk, but they only speak in bad puns? Or a nightmare where your socks constantly disappear in the wash, but then reappear as tiny, aggressive gnomes?" You continued to ramble, a whirlwind of creative chaos once again hot on the heels of the Lord of Dreams.

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Love You Teacher looks good, actually, and too many people are just jumping to conclusions.

Nowhere in the trailer does it suggest age-regression kink play, only a traumatic response exaggerated for dramatic purposes that, by all indications, inhibits the established couple’s sex life. (Let it be known, though, sexual exploration between consenting adults is chill.)

More casual age regressive tendencies is kind of the norm in relationships, and y’all y-series fans love it. There are so many edits with one part of couple acting cutesy and being taken care of by their supposed faen. ‘Baby’ is a common endearment for a reason! When we’re in relationships, we pout, we act more cutesy, more vulnerable. Love You Teacher looks to be dramatizing this element to spark conversations about balance, mental heath, and care, both for one’s self and in relationships.

This isn’t some weird romance trope that BL’s pulling from the shady corners of the internet cuz it’s kinkier than het romances. Traumatic regression that leaves one partner simple-minded to some extent has been a part of some really silly and also some really profound Western movies. You’ve got dubious films like Big with Tom Hanks or Adam Sandler’s approaches, but Elf, Thirteen Going on Thirty, or even something more indie like Lars and the Real Girl, with a young Ryan Gosling, (P’Dome seems to be a bit of a cinephile so I wouldn’t put it past him as a reference point) reveal the sweet sincerity that can emerge when these kinds of stories are done conscientiously.

Perth and Santa seem beautifully cast in this. Both have worked in BL for some time now (just with other companies—check out baby Perth in UWMA!) and are listed as one of three leads in Perfect 10Liners, so the accusations of them jumping the seniority queue are a bit misplaced. Even if that were the case, that point would be moot after what they delivered in the mock trailer.

Santa’s adorable energy finds great use in both the role of the ideal primary school teacher and the character’s reverted 7 year-old mental state, and it lends itself as a response to actor Barcode’s recent complaint regarding the infantilization and limited mature roles for those who are established as a uke in a partnership. I’m excited for the industry to address and push for conversations and roles that allow these actors to age. Sometimes that means letting them take on gritty characters that we might ignorantly assume are against type, but it could also acknowledge the youthful energy some of these actors and plenty of people in the world take into their adulthoods that shape their life. A kindergarten teacher is a prime example of job that attracts that kind of person!

I could not have imagined a character that used Perth’s disposition, simultaneously aloof and warm, so well. A teacher too-cool-for-school with no passion except for his partner? There’s our aloof guitar playing boy. Who must learn to roll with the punches of life and laugh at how ridiculous and precious it is? And there’s our warm cuddly teddybear.

The chemistry between the two in the trailer was eye-opening, too. They appeared spontaneous and familiar with one another, easily conveying live-in boyfriends in love. Even most of the naysayers for the show, admitted their initial excitement for the pairing’s intimacy. If the show plays well, it ought to be breakout success for both of them.

Give me ALL the Sammy. Everyday. Girl has been shining since BL day one (the og Love Sick, baby)!

The colors! This show looks lovely and lively. The primary school wall decorations. The costumes. The face paint in the trailer is so cute! Sammy’s hair color is genius! It just has so much vibrancy during a presentation when multiple dark, brooding shows were announced.

Director P’Dome has earned my trust. Peaceful Property was quirky, intricately plotted, and endlessly compassionate. I was crying almost every weak! I’m not surprised in the slightest to see him with a show like this. The premise of Love You Teacher is a bit out there, a bit provocative, and has the potential to have such a huge heart. The closest comparison tonally in GMMTV’s history I’ve seen so far is with the work TayNew did right before PP, Cherry Magic! Let me tell you about the boxes of tissues my happy tears went through for that series!

Basically, Imma be fighting tooth and nail for this show until it actually offers a reason for me to not support it. With what we received in the trailer, Love You Teacher has revealed only green flags, gold star stickers, and A pluses!

[3liza]

i was wondering why there were THIRTEEN people in the phone queue ahead of me when i called my gastroenterologist but as im now speaking to the receptionist who has been breathing hard into the mic while mumbling everything shes sees on her computer monitor out loud (not because she was asking me any questions, i asked if she was speaking to me and she said no) and then just stopped speaking entirely, i completely understand now. she's either 80 years old or still drunk from last night, genuinely cant tell. ope she just hung up on me again (she also hung up on me while transferring me last week, this is my third or fourth attempt to get an appointment). i had to ask if she was still there after she sort of petered out into silence and she said 'no im just waiting for them to get back to me" (this wasn't explained) and left it at that. then the silence got more profound and i said "hello, are you still there?" a few times and no response. i think she may genuinely need assistance of some kind

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Santa’s Grotto.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - long hair harry makes me feral ngl, so enjoy him taking his son to go and see santa:)

word count - 1.3k

in which, harry takes his two year old son, sebastian, to go and see santa because your at home sick from the flu, but it doesn’t go aswell as he hoped seeing as all little kids appear to have a phobia of the man dressed in red.

At eighteen, Harry Styles embraced the profound reality of parenthood when his son, Sebastian Robin-Edward Styles was born. Sleepless nights became a routine as Harry devoted himself to the care of his newborn. The dim glow of nightlights and lullabies filled the early hours, creating a tender atmosphere of fatherly dedication.

The exhaustion was palpable, yet Harry wouldn't trade those sleepless nights for anything. Each bleary-eyed moment was a testament to the deep love he felt for Sebastian. The bond forged during those quiet hours of feeding, soothing, and comforting became the foundation of an unbreakable connection.

Harry often looked back on those moments when he spent time with his now two year old son, who was turning more and more into a close friend of his as the minutes of the day ticked by.

In the heart of the bustling mall, Harry stood patiently in line at Santa's grotto, his two-year-old son, Sebastian, cradled in his arms. The air was filled with the warm scent of cinnamon and the soft murmur of excited chatter as families eagerly awaited their turn. The line snaked around, adorned with festive decorations that captured Sebastian's wide-eyed attention.

Harry's long hair served as an unintentional playground for his son, who gleefully tugged at the strands while fixating on the mesmerizing twinkling lights overhead.

As they edged closer to the front, Harry observed the diverse array of families sharing in the holiday spirit. Laughter and anticipation filled the air, creating a joyful atmosphere that enveloped both father and son.

Sebastian, blissfully unaware of the world beyond the enchanting lights, continued to marvel at the vibrant surroundings, his tiny fingers entangled in Harry's locks.

The anticipation heightened as they approached the entrance to Santa's magical realm. Harry, with a loving smile, gently adjusted Sebastian in his arms, ensuring the little one had the best view of the enchanting scene.

The elves, adorned in festive attire, orchestrated the seamless flow of families, adding to the enchantment that surrounded them. As they neared the front of the line, the duo's excitement mirrored that of the other children and parents, all eagerly awaiting their moment with the jolly man in red.

As Harry and Sebastian reached the front of the queue, a friendly elf with a sprightly demeanor greeted them.

"Well, hello there! Looks like we've got a special visitor today," the elf exclaimed, a twinkle in their eye.

Sebastian, however, suddenly grew shy, burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck, his tiny hands clutching onto the strands of his father's hair.

Harry chuckled warmly, gently coaxing Sebastian to face the friendly elf. "S’okay, buddy. S’nice elf just wants t’say hello."

He lifted Sebastian slightly, revealing a bashful smile on the toddler's face.

The elf, undeterred by Sebastian's shyness, continued to engage them, "Santa's been eagerly waiting to meet you, little one. What's your name?"

Sebastian mumbled a soft reply, his words muffled by the safety of Harry's neck.

The elf, playing along, nodded with exaggerated excitement. "Ah, Sebastian! That's a fantastic name for someone about to meet Santa. I bet you've been a good little helper this year, haven't you?"

Sebastian, gaining a bit more confidence, peeked out from his hiding spot and shyly nodded.

Harry joined the conversation, appreciating the effort to make Sebastian feel comfortable.

"He's been such a good boy, especially with all the twinkling lights and holiday cheer around here." Harry answered, brushing some of his son's curls out of his face.

The elf grinned, "That's wonderful to hear! Santa loves hearing about good boys like Sebastian. Well, it won't be long now before you get to share all your wishes with him."

As they chatted, the atmosphere in Santa's grotto remained festive and lively. The elf skillfully transitioned the conversation to holiday traditions, asking Harry and Sebastian about their favourite parts of the season.

Harry shared stories of their family traditions, and before they knew it, it was time to approach Santa's chair.

The elf gestured toward the magical seat, "Sebastian, are you ready to meet the big man himself?"

As Harry and Sebastian entered Santa's tent, a festive air surrounded them. The scent of evergreen and cinnamon filled the space, and the anticipation was palpable.

Santa, with a hearty chuckle, welcomed them, "Ho, ho, ho! Well, hello there! Who do we have here?"

With a gentle smile, Harry bent down to encourage Sebastian onto Santa's lap. However, as Sebastian neared the red-suited figure, he clung tightly to Harry, his eyes wide with trepidation.

"S’okay, Seb. Santa's a friend," Harry reassured, attempting to ease his son's nervousness.

Sebastian, unconvinced, buried his face in Harry's shoulder, his tiny hands gripping onto his father's shirt. Santa, with a twinkle in his eye, chimed in,

"Ah, a little shy, are we? That's perfectly normal. How about we start with a high-five?" He extended a gloved hand toward Sebastian, hoping to initiate a connection.

Despite Santa's friendly gesture, Sebastian's anxiety escalated, and a whimper escaped him. Harry, now kneeling beside Santa's chair, continued to comfort his son,

"S’alright, buddy. Y’don't have t’do anything y’not comfortable with. Santa understands." However, as the tension lingered, Sebastian's anxiety reached its peak, and tears welled up in his eyes.

Santa, ever understanding, offered a warm smile, "No need to worry, little one. Sometimes meeting new friends can be a bit overwhelming. How about you tell me what you want for Christmas?”

In a last-ditch effort to salvage the moment, Harry took a seat on the chair next to Santa, with Sebastian on his lap. However, Sebastian, caught in the throes of a full-blown meltdown, wriggled and squirmed, attempting to escape the clutches of the man in the red suit.

The cheerful atmosphere of the grotto seemed to fade as Sebastian's desperation escalated.

Harry, his patience wearing thin, held onto his son, attempting to soothe the uncontrollable distress. The once-anticipated visit to Santa's lap had turned into a struggle, and Sebastian's tears mirrored the disappointment in the air.

The twinkling lights and festive decorations, which had captivated Sebastian earlier, were now lost in the midst of his overwhelming emotions.

Despite Harry's attempts to offer comfort, Sebastian's distress showed no signs of abating. The scene unfolded like a poignant tableau of a well-intentioned holiday moment gone awry.

The contrast between the joyful ambiance and Sebastian's emotional turmoil painted a bittersweet picture, one that highlighted the unpredictability of childhood emotions in the face of holiday expectations.

With Sebastian in the midst of a tearful meltdown, Harry looked apologetically at Santa, a mixture of frustration and regret etched on his face. "M’sorry. M’thought he'd be excited, but it seems like s’all a bit overwhelming f’him."

Santa, with a warm and understanding smile, nodded reassuringly. "No need to apologise,. Happens more often than you might think. Children, especially the little ones, can find meeting Santa a bit overwhelming. It's all part of the holiday experience."

In a gesture of comfort, Harry gently lifted Sebastian from his lap, cradling him in his arms. The tears continued to flow, and Sebastian sought solace in his father's embrace, burying his face in Harry's neck.

The soft strands of his long hair became a source of comfort as Sebastian clutched onto them, the rhythmic playing a small distraction from the overwhelming emotions.

Harry, his heart heavy with empathy, whispered reassurances to his son, "S’okay, buddy. Everything s’okay."

He swayed gently, attempting to ease Sebastian's distress. The bustling grotto faded into the background as the connection between father and son took center stage, the soothing hush of whispered comforts filling the air.

Sebastian's cries gradually softened, but he continued to hold onto his father, finding security in the familiar embrace. Harry, understanding the need for patience, remained steadfast, allowing the moment to unfold naturally.

Feeling the weight of Sebastian in his arms, Harry looked down at his tear-streaked face and whispered, "Shall we go home and see Mummy?"

Sebastian, still clinging to his father, nodded in response, his small thumb finding its way into his mouth. The simple gesture revealed a longing for the familiar comfort of home and the soothing presence of his mother.

With a shared understanding, Harry began to make his way out of the festive grotto, holding Sebastian close. The twinkling lights and holiday cheer gradually faded as they exited, leaving behind the whirlwind of emotions that had marked their encounter with Santa.

As they stepped into the crisp winter air, Harry tightened his grip on his son, ready to bring him back to the warmth and familiarity of home.

Sebastian's thumb remained in his mouth, a silent signal of the need for reassurance and comfort. Harry, with each step, whispered words of comfort, promising the solace of home and the embrace of Mummy waiting there.

[comrademango]

First thing I love Liverpool FC and Congratulations on your win yesterday against Real Madrid. They taught them a lesson in football.

Imagine waking up every morning to devastation—a world where safety is a dream, and hope feels just out of reach.

Vetted by:

1) gazavetters my number verified on the list is ( #45 )

2) a-shade-of-blue (in my pinned post)

3) 90-ghost (in my pinned post)

4) dlxxv-vetted-donations (in my pinned post)

5)transmutationisms (in my pinned post)

My name is Mohamed Almadhonne, and I am reaching out from Gaza, where my family and I are enduring profound hardship. Our home, once a sanctuary of safety and comfort, has been reduced to rubble. We now face freezing nights and hunger in a makeshift shelter, holding onto hope amidst overwhelming uncertainty.

Each day brings new challenges—fear, loss, and the constant battle for survival. Yet, even in this darkness, I believe in the transformative power of compassion and the generosity of people like you to help us find a path forward.

I am humbly asking for your support. Your donation, no matter the amount, could provide us with essential relief: shelter, food, and a chance to rebuild our lives. If donating is not possible, sharing our story could connect us with others willing to help.

Here is the link to my campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/f/faydxu-help-mohammed. Your kindness could be the light that guides us toward safety and dignity.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your support. Your kindness means more than words can express.

With sincere gratitude,

Mohamed Almadhonne

23% of my long-term goal

11,385€ out of 50,000€

Donations are protected by GOFUNDME

Mohamed has been raising funds on GFM since May. The campaign is at €11,840 out of €50,000 at the time of post queue. Link to his post with the verification info. YNWA, my friend.

tagging some liverpoolies etc, dm for removal, ty

@moonrver @salahattricks @pickleballhater @trentxaa @captainrayzizuniverse

@moomin279 @liz-wes @neptunerings @momosane @mieldelsol

[thedwarrowscholar]

Hello, Loremaster! First let me start by thanking you for this wonderful resource and all the work you've given to the fandom, you are truly a lord of gifts to us all. (And thanks especially for the lovely Dwarven Lament that I recently used in my fanfiction, it was the perfect addition to that scene!)

On the subject of your work, I was wondering if you'd be willing to take a look at a translation for me? I am planning on a scene where Arwen earns the praise of the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, and they chant "Evenstar" — but in Khuzdul.

Looking through your work, I think that either "thatr-lanzulkhud" or "thatr-lunzel" would be the most likely translation, am I anywhere near the mark or way off?

I know you mentioned having a lengthy queue and a lot of things to do, so no pressure on getting to this in any sort of timely fashion (or even at all), I appreciate your help when/if you ever get around to it; and if not, I remain very grateful for all the wonderful work you've done so far regardless. Thank you! Hope you're having a good day.

Well met tathrin — and thank you kindly for your generous words! I’m honoured the Dwarven Lament found a home in your story — that’s the kind of resonance I hope these works inspire.

Regarding your question about a Neo-Khuzdul rendering of “Evenstar”, I must say your proposed forms aren’t far off the mark at all. Quite the opposite — they show an excellent understanding of Neo-Khuzdul.

✨ On “Evenstar” in Neo-Khuzdul

The most direct form would likely be: Thatrulanz Lit. "Star of Evening"

thatru – star-of ("thatr" being star)

lanz – evening

It’s short, clear, and plausible as a chant or exclamation — especially if used in a formal or poetic moment.

That said, your alternate form “thatr-lanzulkhud” (star-eveninglight) is also conceptually sound, though perhaps the construct state (thatru, "star-of") would be more accurate, making it thatrulanzulkhud. Your alternate form creates a slightly more poetic compound and evokes a stronger visual metaphor — though longer, it might be a better fit for ceremonial prose or inscription than for a chant.

Arwen, as depicted in The Lord of the Rings movies.

🕯 Tolkien’s Layers: The Evenstar as Symbol

Worth noting is that Tolkien himself used Evenstar with deeply symbolic intent (as with all of the names he crafted).

In his 1916 poem O Lady Mother throned amid the stars (alternately titled Consolatrix Afflictorum or Stella Vespertina), he invokes the Evening Star as a Marian image — an emblem of hope and consolation in the darkness of the trenches. While Stella Matutina (“morning star”) is a traditional Marian title, Tolkien’s poetic instinct drew him toward the Evening Star, in this case, which he perhaps found more fitting amidst the shadow of war.

This adds a beautiful resonance to Arwen’s epessë Undómiel, meaning “Evenstar”, derived from undómë (“evening twilight”) + el (“star”).

In that name, Arwen becomes not just a symbolic light, but the last, soft light before nightfall — the end of the Elves, and the glimmer of beauty before their passing from Middle-earth.

“There are the emblems of Durin!” cried Gimli.

⚒️ Dwarves and the Stars

Though Dwarves are not quick to offer lofty praise, the weight of Arwen’s deeds — her sacrifice, her union with Aragorn, her gift to Frodo — might well earn her a rare honour. A chant of “Thatrulanz!” would not be empty flattery, but the acknowledgement of a light not born of their folk, yet worthy of deep respect.

Dwarves, though bound to stone and deep places, are not blind to the sky. Perhaps they do not revere the stars as the Elves do — but instead hold a select few in profound esteem. Among these, Durin’s Crown stands foremost: a constellation said to have appeared to Durin the Deathless as he gazed into the Mirror Mere (Kheled-zâram), marking him as chosen. This sacred crown — likely the Northern Crown (Corona Borealis) — is not just admired, but bound to legacy and destiny.

Thus, when a Dwarf invokes a star, it is no casual compliment. It is a rare and weighty gesture — to liken someone to a sacred sign, a bearer of deep memory and mythic significance.

So when the Dwarves in your tale chant Thatrulanz (“Star of the Evening”) in Arwen’s honour, they are perhaps not merely echoing Elvish poetry, but offering one of their highest forms of praise — likening her to a light revered even in the halls of stone.

🪓 A Final Thought In the event you need the transcription into runes, or wonder how it would be pronounced, the details below:

May your fic gleam like mithril in starlight — bright and enduring!

Ever at your service, The Dwarrow Scholar

[do-you-ship-it-polls]

There is a profound sadness that proshipping-polls is gone. I am so tempted to make my own version but also the stress from running it is keeping me from doing that.

you gotta be strong enough for anon hate (I'm not), build up a blog u like and then log in and see "this blog has been terminated" and also consistently spend time filling up the queue. hard work /lh

I shall provide you with a new problematic ship.

also, go to @not-proshipping-polls

[motheatenscarf]

FREEDOM.

I'm FINALLY done with Heavensward and Stormblood society quests!!

I had the Stormblood ones done a while ago, actually, they were a delight and I breezed through them, but put off doing the combined quest until after the Heavensward one bcs I'm trying to do them in order. But the Vanu and Moogles took SO LONG to do because they only give you a max of 150 reputation every day instead of the standard 180. That doesn't sound like a big difference, but jesus christ, it adds up, wound up adding like an extra 2 or 3 weeks onto the grind. Un-fucking-bearable.

I think that extended grind might be why I didn't enjoy the Heavensward societies that much.

The Vath were okay, kinda cute, didn't overstay their welcome, but I just wasn't terribly invested in them. I've seen the "trying to break away from a hivemind" story before and this one didn't have anything especially interesting to say and the bonds forged didn't feel especially profound. But they did give 210 rep a day, so it just breezed by and didn't annoy me at least.

The Vanu Vanu are.... fine? I personally find their speech patterns to get real old real quick, same problem I had with like. All of the ARR society quests. Just feels unnecessarily Othering. The vath at least have the excuse of being very alien in their hive-mind social structure, but the vanu are just. Big Time islander coded and those are just... people. Which also made the not-Haka dance emote you get from them, the Sundrop Dance, just feel all the more Wrong to use. Like, that feels like it's maybe crossing a line. None of the NPCs really stood out and I kinda didn't pay attention to most of it. Linu Vali has a pretty flower crown and THAT'S IT.

The Moogles are exhausting. I say this as someone who fucking loves moogles, even if not ESPECIALLY when they're being annoying, useless little shits, but they're kinda one-note and it gets old quick. Like, if I, me, someone who spent $40 on a plush of Lulu's moogle doll from FFX twice because the first one had its pom eaten by my dog, that person, ME, if you can't win ME over with your moogle in a hard-hat and drunk moogles getting hit by cartoon bombs, you've done something wrong. It especially drags because you're only getting 150 rep a day and the map is huge and you've got to use special mounts on so much bullshit, and fuck you if your queue popped while you were traveling on the mount, you have to go back and start over on this huge, huge map once you're done with your dungeon. Same problem I had with the Vanu, tbh. Just. A miserable grind and you will feel every second of it. It's almost worth it for the moogle dance though.

But the combined role quest was nice. I like the dance emote, it's got elements of the not-haka dance in there, but enough of the moogle dance that it just feels cute and not appropriative.

Also I'm getting tired of meeting this guy in his speedo.

But at least someone blew up his ship again, so all's well that ends well! Onto Stormblood, which I actually really liked the society quests for!

The Kojin were my least favorite of this bunch, their fixation with spiritual treasures and then "the real treasure being the friends we made along the way" was kinda dumb and not in like, a self-aware or silly way. It was played completely straight and I didn't really find any of the NPCs this time interesting or engaging so it all just fell kinda flat with me. Also I have. A big issue. With the naming of their prayer emote you can pick up being labelled; "Ballroom Etiquette: Heathen Gestures." Like. I know the etiquette books are played for very tongue-in-cheek laughs about boring fuddy duddies, but c'mon, man. That... yikes.

The Ananta are a big improvement, though, I really like them and Alpa stood out as a charming and vibrant character, she's so cute and driven and the humor finally lands for once. Having J'olhmyn as the straight-man to M'zhet Tia's antics works well, and the social blunders that Alpa makes through her more isolated upbringing are endearing. Neither aspect is overmined for laughs and Alpa is treated with enough sincerity that you buy-in to her emotional reality and care about her. Just a solid little self-contained story, I really like the ananta quests, and the emote you can get from them of the /charmed sway of being bewitched/enchanted by something or someone is just adorable. Also, love the false nails you can pick up, and the griffin and elephant mounts are cute too! A good story, fun NPCs, fantastic rewards, this is maybe the first society quest I actually recommend people do for something besides completionism or accessibility to crafting materials. The Ananta are great, I love them and my snaughter, snake-daughter.

The Namazu might be my favorite of all society quests. They're not the best one, I think those come in Endwalker, but they might be my favorite. I just.... I just love them. They're so muppety and stupid and the exact brand of physical comedy that can actually get a chuckle out of me. They're adorable and the premise of saving them from various improbable and absurd extinctions is hilarious. There are so many recurring gags and jokes and none of them overstay their welcome and the comedic timing is perfect every time. The quests are all cute, the story is hilarious and adorable, the characters are great, the rewards are AMAZING, if you love the Muppets or Gremlins or anything with Little Creechurs Doing Antics, you will have so much fun with these quests and love every minute of them and look forward to them. Also, just, like, side-note, but so many of the species in the society quests are so over-designed imo; the kojin, the vath, the amalj'aa. But the Namazu are so simple in a very iconic and cute way, like, they could literally be a new mascot of the Final Fantasy series they're so well designed. I love them so much.

And for once I kinda cared about the combined role quest! BECAUSE THEY KIDNAPPED MY SNAUGHTER! And also they stole one of my fish buddies and I had to get them back too. Also, the puppet who came to life from the kojin story, but he was already kinda dead anyways, so like, whatever, but OH NO! My snaughter!! So I was very invested in getting her back.

Also, the tables have turned, and now Talia is the one in her swimsuit when the villain shows up! WHAT A TWIST!

I mean, he's also in a speedo, this scene takes place in a hot spring, but I'm still counting it as a subversion.

Anyway, the Stormblood society quests are the first time I will call this GOOD CONTENT. The surprising siliness of ARR's combined society quests was entertaining after they'd all been played so straight with their dire stakes, but this time it felt like a consistent through-line from the individual to combined quests. The Kojin are the only ones that feel like kind of a letdown and even then, they're still as good as anything from Heavensward or ARR, so if you've done those until this point, you won't feel like you're wasting your time with them at least. And the other two are just great, and the combined quest is fun, and M'zhet Tia turns out to have been carrying Chekov's grenade this entire time, and it's just great. Actually got me to finally LAUGH and not just smile.

[liaromancewriter]

It Happened One Miami Night (3/?)

Series Premise: A work trip to Miami means finally accepting that some risks are worth taking. Or are they?

Fandom: Choices Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff Words: 1,430

Series Masterlist

A/N: I live! Seriously, though, I've been really sick the last few days; today's the first day I've actually felt like writing. I also don't know where I'm going with this series except for this idea of filling in blanks for moments we didn't see. Pray that I figure it out before I start rambling.

Submission for @choicesaprilchallenge24; dialogue prompt "come on, it'll be fun"

She might have been invited (ordered, more like) under false pretenses, but that didn’t mean she was wasting this opportunity. Still in awe of hearing medical greats in person, Cassie Valentine put her hands together for the chorus of applause that followed Dr. Hadley’s fireside chat.

Ethan Ramsey, the epitome of medical excellence, was Cassie’s ultimate inspiration. Yet, Rebecca Hadley, with her profound knowledge and charisma, was a close second in Cassie’s admiration.

Cassie's eyes darted hopefully towards the front as the room began to clear. Her heart sank at seeing the long queue of Dr. Hadley’s admirers. Disappointment washed over her, but she was determined not to let this opportunity slip away. However, the organizers pulled Dr. Hadley away before she could step forward.

Cassie checked the event schedule on the conference app and figured she had enough time to grab some swag for Elijah before the next session. She still hadn’t heard from Ethan.

No! She wasn’t going to think about him. This time was for her.

Ethan was her attending, that’s it. No, he wasn’t Ethan. He was Dr. Ramsey. Cassie repeated this to herself, a mantra reminding her of her resolution to move on and break the spell he’d cast on her.

She thought this weekend was already proving challenging, recalling their conversation after the Nash debacle. They hadn’t even been to their suite yet or figured out how they were going to spend two nights in close quarters. Would he casually dismiss her from his presence then, too?

Shaking off the anxiety, she entered the exhibit hall and made a beeline for the first table. They gave out branded pens; they were nothing special, but her friend wasn’t picky. Besides, Elijah lost at least two pens daily and would use them all.

With her tote bag bulging, she was halfway down this row when she spied a booth handing out frisbees. She sped up, grabbing the last one as someone reached for it. Cassie turned sideways and found herself in a tug-of-war with another attendee.

“I was here first,” she tugged the plastic disk a little too forcefully.

“Debatable.” The man grinned charmingly before letting go. “But my mother raised a gentleman,” he glanced at her lanyard, “Cassie.”

“Thanks,” she stared at the name tag in her line of sight, “Evan. My compliments to your mother.”

“Wait till I tell her how her lessons on manners led me to my future wife.” The twinkle in his eyes told her he was joking.

“Wow, you’re easy,” Cassie quipped. “Beat a guy at the Swag Olympics, and his true intentions come out.”

His lips twisted in a half smile, and he eyed her tote. “First conference?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Evan laughed. “First-timers always grab too much stuff. Then, you realize you can’t possibly take it home in your carry-on and start throwing out perfectly good swag.”

That made her pause. The space in her luggage was indeed limited. Still, she promised Elijah goodies, and she would deliver them.

“It’ll be okay,” she shrugged, unconcerned.

“I heard Panacea’s giving out briefcases,” Evan said, stepping closer, just at the edge of her personal space. “I was just heading there.”

Cassie caught the unspoken invitation in his voice and the interested look in his eyes as he peered intently at her. She started to decline, not wanting another run-in with Declan Nash, when their phones pinged.

“Oh wow, I don’t believe it,” Evan exclaimed, staring at his phone. “They just added Dr. Ramsey to a panel. It starts in twenty minutes.”

He glanced at her over his phone’s screen, his eyes filled with eager excitement. “He’s amazing. Man, what I’d do to work with him. I tried matching at Edenbrook last year, but their residency is super competitive.”

“I know,” Cassie said quietly, but Evan didn’t hear her as he continued talking.

“…got into Grady, so not a total loss. How about you?”

“Edenbrook. First year, internal medicine.”

Evan’s eyes widened. “Have you met Ramsey, then? What’s he like? Are rounds with him a masterclass in diagnostic excellence?”

Cassie wasn’t sure how to respond. Was she supposed to tell a stranger that she had not only met Ethan but fallen hard for him? That when he focused those laser blue eyes on her, she melted, heat pooling in her belly, fingers itching to touch him everywhere?

Ethan was a complicated man who hid his emotions behind an austere exterior. But when he let his guard down and let her in, she fell through a rabbit hole, knowing her life would never be the same again.

“Rounds with him are intense,” was all Cassie said, keeping her expression neutral.

Ten minutes later, she reluctantly followed Evan into the ballroom where Ethan’s session was taking place. Despite the last-minute announcement, the room was almost full, with just a few empty seats scattered around the room.

“See? I told you the room would be packed early,” he said, scanning the space.

They shoehorned their way to the center of the room, hopping over bags and feet to park themselves on two chairs in a row of theater seating. Cassie almost tripped over the ankles of a woman who wasn’t keen to let them pass, but Evan helped keep her upright.

Cassie’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Ethan’s tall figure standing off to the side of the raised dais. He must’ve gone to the suite, for he was now wearing a blazer over the black shirt and gray slacks from this morning.

He hadn’t noticed her, and she doubted he would, given the size of the crowd. Still, she slumped slightly in her seat, practically hiding behind the person seated in the row before her.

“What are you doing tonight?”

She turned to face Evan, her brow raised in confusion.

“A few of us are getting together later,” he explained hurriedly. “It’s nothing fancy—cheap booze, music, dancing on the beach.”

“I don’t know,” she hesitated. “I’m here with my attending. He might need me for work.”

“All night?” Evan asked skeptically. “He doesn’t seriously expect you to be on call all weekend? Give the old man the slip and join us.”

When she still looked doubtful, he insisted, “Come on, it’ll be fun. Give me your number. I’ll text you the details.”

Cassie scoffed. “What makes you think you’ve earned my number?”

“My eternal optimism?”

“Nice try,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m on the conference app. Ping me the deets there. No promises.”

The emcee called the room to attention, and the commotion around them died down, replaced by excited anticipation. He introduced the session topic and speakers, reading a brief bio for each panelist.

Despite her earlier intention, Cassie straightened in her seat, unable to look away as Ethan joined his fellow panelists on the stage. As soon as the applause subsided, the moderator smoothly jumped into the discussion, throwing Ethan the first question.

Sprawled in a deep armchair, he held the microphone close to his lips, punctuating his point with a wave of his hand. He spoke eloquently, captivating everyone in the audience and the panel.

Cassie envied his effortless confidence and hoped that one day, she would be as secure in her abilities as a doctor.

She noticed how relaxed Ethan was now compared to earlier. He was in his element now, and it showed. Unlike the uncertainty of the situation with Naveen, sharing his opinions on managing medical resources during large-scale emergencies was easy.

Evan tried to engage her in conversation, leaning too close for comfort, but she ignored him beyond a quick nod. She hadn’t reflected on this topic before but found the discussion and subject area fascinating.

Cassie thought she knew Ethan’s career well, being his biggest fan and all. But she had no idea he’d volunteered in disaster zones during his residency and fellowship. Was there anything the man hadn’t done in the ten short years since he became a doctor?

And was he just as good in bed as he appeared out of it? The naughty voice broke through her thoughts, making her blush.

Cassie surreptitiously scanned faces around her to make sure no one had noticed her face turning red (or the way her skin flushed from the neck down as her breath hitched). It was damn inconvenient.

Listening to Ethan being, well, Ethan, was clearly turning her on.

So much for her resolution. All Ethan had to do was talk passionately about medicine, and she was ready to kiss his breath away.

The weekend just got a whole lot more complicated.

-------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso

@mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16

@justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

[dgdraws]

Maybe saying this on my 18 follower art sideblog is silly, but I want to offer some gentle pushback on the sentiment that's been going around re: notes on art and lack of engagement.

TL;DR make it your practice to be the person who rbs art with nice tags and you can build a community of likeminded folks

There are myriad reasons why online comment culture has shifted, I'm not gonna waste time pinning that stuff down, bc it's actually immaterial to my perspective, which is:

You can find or create a community of people who will lift up your art. But it requires that you participate in the culture you want to see more of.

I had been a lurker on this site for a decade. I held back participating in discussions, creating or sharing art, engaging directly with anyone outside of following blogs and rbing posts without commentary. And during that time, I made no connections, no friends, built no community.

I was afraid of scrutiny. I have felt the humiliating lurch of earnest engagement turning to dread and exposure and a deep regret of allowing myself to be vulnerable. I pulled up the ladder behind me so I would never have to hear the slightest dismissal or repulsion or ridicule from others. In so doing I also cut myself off from praise, understanding or connection. If no one gets a chance to let me down, then it's as though they're holding me up, right? Wrong!!!

I paid good money for a therapist to help me work out the lie there. The realization that I felt isolated and misunderstood because I never gave people the opportunity to show up for me was so hard to grasp. How could my safety net be the cause of my profound loneliness? But it is true. The people in my life couldn't disappoint me, but they also couldn't help me or support me or really love me the way I needed.

Opening myself up to disappointment has been a long, tough road (and goodness knows I'm not ready to let my parents let me down (again) yet). But my relationships are strengthening. My sense of identity is more stable. I am not inconsolably lonely deep in my heart anymore. Because it turns out people do show up when you give them the opportunity.

Not every time. Not every person. But enough of the time that it builds resilience. Every time I reach out and someone reaches back, I get a little braver. I trust a little more.

To bring this back around to online culture and community: I started receiving interest (and notes) after I started showing interest in others. Once again it turns out that people want to turn up for you, but you must give them the opportunity. This means making yourself vulnerable. It means taking the first step.

If you want a community, a group of people who interact w a certain set of values, you have to demonstrate it. Live those values. This is how we create culture. We choose what behavior we want to encourage and we set an example. This is as true in a workplace or a family as it is for tumblr or ao3. If your boss puts up a sign that says "we see mistakes as a chance to learn" but they punish people when they mess up, that's just words on the wall. If they accept errors graciously, if they work to suss out the root of the problem to resolve it, if they are open about their own mistakes, that is the culture.

So if we want to see more reblogs, but not just that, real engagement and chances for connection, then it starts with you.

Here's what I do that has helped me make friends and spark genuine interest in my work;

Reblog LOW NOTE art as much as, if not more than, posts with thousands of notes. Feel proud to give someone the first note on their work!

Incorporate leaving nice tags into my gratitude practice (it is a form of mindfulness! noticing what specifically draws me to art I rb both engages me more deeply with the work and makes my own art better)

Queue up several art posts from the same artist (people notice when you are consistently in their notes!)

Participate in art events like artfight, various -tobers, other challenges (as with making friends anywhere, repeated exposure leads to familiarity and chances for connection!)

Follow people back or even initiate following blogs who interact with your posts (do not approach this with a f4f mentality, only follow people you actually want to hear more from)

Set up post notifications for portfolio style art blogs (ie sideblogs exclusively for original content) so you keep up w your network/mutuals even if you're offline when they post

Low key notice what the people engaging with you like most about your work and consider expanding on those ideas. This is not about "tailor your work to an audience" it's about thinking, "so-and-so left feral tags on my post about this oc so I'll do my practice sketches of them" or "people seem interested in this storyline so let me feed off that enthusiasm and develop it more"

Don't get hung up on it when individuals don't reciprocate. Assume good faith. You never know what is draining someone's energy. Remember that you are offering a gift, your time and energy yes, but also the chance for someone to show up for you too. If it starts to feel like an obligation, reassess where you're putting that energy, but don't be afraid to be generous.

This has worked wonderfully for me. I went from a person scrolling longingly past posts about beloved mutual culture, not quite believing it could really be like that, to a person who happily gets 3 notes on my former flop posts and posts reblog bait for my besties and reblogs the bait they post for me :)

Apparently I had a lot to say! I kinda hope this doesn't break containment but if it does, please be niceys. I understand if this mindset is not available to you bc of social trauma, depression/anxiety, disability, mental illness or whatever else but please avoid venting that on this post. I love you and I hope you can get here someday, because you're worth it. In the meantime, try to be gentle with yourself and others. xoxo

[cannibal-nightmares]

A list of my fic WIPs in response to an ask I received ^^;

Right now I am actively working on: "Trust Fall: Euclid" - A dual-perspective take on acute psychosis, Stein has a complete breakdown in the sanctity of his weapon. [ x ] - [ y ] - [ z ] "white roses and black doves" - A thorough depiction and conveyance of psychosis and giving in to the whims of accepting help. // [ x ] - [ y ] "Trick of the Light" - Stein processes and learns to live with a major personal loss with the loving help of his friends. [preview to chapter 2] [preview to chapter 2] [preview to chapter 3] "Matching Point" - An exploration on migraines and physical touch; a partner piece to "Teleharmonic: Smoke and Light."

Some others in my queue include: "Franken Stein's Bed & Breakfast" - No demons, no monsters, no witches, Stein's friends keep asking him for mundane favors only humans would ask other humans. A forever fic--one that could just go on forever as a series of short stories--an exploration on Stein's humanity in the face of normalcy. [ x ] "This is Why" - Spirit is in a band and he invites Stein to one of his gigs. Stein has a battle of wits in being tempted to fall to his old vices. // I am undecided if I want to age restrict this one, I have thought out multiple different endings to it. [ x ] "Top 10 staTues tHat CriEd bloOd" - An alternative take on Stein's salvation from Medusa as seen in the anime: Spirit arrives to the rescue instead of Marie. // (I'd also love to explore the idea of Marie saving Stein without depending on her healing wavelength.) [ x ] "Pay Your Ransom" - Looking for an alternative way to process and face some personal trauma, Spirit visits Stein for some... Advice... // While this fic is intended to be very humorous and light-hearted, I haven't decided yet if I want to age restrict it or not. [ x ] "DYWTYLM" - Apart of the Sleep Token project*, a two-chapter piece on what "love" and their partnership means to Spirit and Stein, individually. [ x ] "Dust Into Nothing" - An exploration on PTSD triggers and seeking support. [ x ] "Back Through the Opera Glass" - A self-indulgent piece just to write atmosphere. Possibly dialogue-less, Stein self-narrates what his friends mean to him, against all contradictions of logic versus love. [ x ] "Careful Fear and Dead Devotion" - Another forever-fic as a series of endless short stories, each chapter consists of Spirit and Stein chatting and rambling and getting up to shenanigans before falling asleep in bed together. [ x ] "Gemini" - Possibly a choose-your-own-adventure, an AU where Stein has an estranged sister he considers to reconnect with. "House Call" - Just as it says on the tin. Stein responds to a handful of house visits, namely Spirit, in illness, injury, and over-indulgence. "Midnight Honeymoon" - Stein must admit to grieving over his glory days as he faces a newfound chronic--and eventually terminal--illness. He learns to put all of his faith into his loved ones. // [this one already has a playlist... Did I just spend two hours polishing this? Please don't shuffle it.] A profound defrag fic that's has been secretly at the forefront of my mind for a good while now. More or less inspired by "I'm Thinking of Ending Things" and "A Ghost Story." I know once I start and finish this piece, it's going to be a pinnacle in my heart and mind. I can only hope it will serve me, I hope it will serve anyone who reads it. [ x ]

My enormous projects include: "Eternal Blue" - An immense and thorough exploration on Stein's childhood, his partnership with Spirit, and the teenage journey of the death scythes as we know them. Originally, this was planned to be as close as humanly possible to speculation of canon, but it's grown to have several AU ideas and themes. I have no idea how long this thing is going to be. [ x ] "Kaleidos" - The continuation of "Soul Eater," post-canon featuring an OC, Kaleidos. A reflection of Stein, himself, the professor takes it upon himself to prevent a new student from falling into madness. I wrote a sort of teaser piece to this here.

Some pieces I'd rather be mini-comics than fics: "Haircuts For Everybody" - Stein, in the middle of psychosis, struggles with physical touch while simultaneously being agitated by his out-grown hair. Marie and Spirit help him face his delusions with utmost care. [ x ] "Ascensionism" - An atmospheric alternative ending to "Pay Your Ransom," Stein expects an exchange for his services. This piece, if it comes to fruition, might be age-restricted and available only on Patreon. [ x ]

Lastly, some defrag pieces that may or may not see the light of day: "Seven" - A sort of OOC fic exploring masking agereg in coping with acute depression. It's rather up to interpretation and really is just a drabble to help me process some things. [Untitled] - Academy days AU; Stein discovers Spirit has a tattoo at the same time Spirit finds out Stein has a secret of his own. Spirit takes his meister out to get his first tattoo and actualizes the layers of said secret... // (Normally titles come fast to me, but this is a rare instance where is has not.) "Trip Wire" - A single chapter depicting the slippery slope of earnestly trying to help someone facing acute psychosis.

[fcb4]

Yesterday I had the delight of weaving together a sermon on a few passages out of the first chapter of John and The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis

"In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world.” -John 1:5,9

The depth of analysis in this portion of the story is profound when looked at through an apologetics lens regarding living in a culture that argues this way. If you wrestle with the faith and are familiar with the lines of reasoning from "new Atheists", deconstructionists and their arguments this dialogue will not sound new. 

The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis

We've been there, too," snapped Jill. She was very angry because she could feel enchantment getting hold of her every moment. But of course the very fact that she could still feel it, showed that it had not yet fully worked.

"And thou art Queen of Narnia too, I doubt not, pretty one," said the Witch in the same coaxing, half-mocking tone.

"I'm nothing of the sort," said Jill, stamping her foot. "We come from another world."

"Why, this is a prettier game than the other," said the Witch. "Tell us, little maid, where is this other world? What ships and chariots go between it and ours?"

Of course a lot of things darted into Jill's head at once: Experiment House, Adela Pennyfather, her own home, radio-sets, cinemas, cars, aeroplanes, ration-books, queues. But they seemed dim and far away. (Thrum—thrum—thrum—went the strings of the Witch's instrument.) Jill couldn't remember the names of the things in our world. And this time it didn't come into her head that she was being enchanted, for now the magic was in its full strength; and of course, the more enchanted you get, the more certain you feel that you are not enchanted at all. She found herself saying (and at the moment it was a relief to say):

"No. I suppose that other world must be all a dream."

"Yes. It is all a dream," said the Witch, always thrumming.

"Yes, all a dream," said Jill.

"There never was such a world," said the Witch.

"No," said Jill and Scrubb, "never was such a world."

"There never was any world but mine," said the Witch.

"There never was any world but yours," said they.

Puddleglum was still fighting hard. "I don't know rightly what you all mean by a world," he said, talking like a man who hasn't enough air. "But you can play that fiddle till your fingers drop off, and still you won't make me forget Narnia; and the whole Overworld too. We'll never see it again, I shouldn't wonder. You may have blotted it out and turned it dark like this, for all I know. Nothing more likely. But I know I was there once. I've seen the sky full of stars. I've seen the sun coming up out of the sea of a morning and sinking behind the mountains at night. And I've seen him up in the midday sky when I couldn't look at him for brightness."

Puddleglum's words had a very rousing effect. The other three all breathed again and looked at one another like people newly awaked.

"Why, there it is!" cried the Prince. "Of course! The blessing of Aslan upon this honest marsh-wiggle. We have all been dreaming, these last few minutes. How could we have forgotten it? Of course we've all seen the sun."

"By Jove, so we have!" said Scrubb. "Good for you, Puddleglum! You're the only one of us with any sense, I do believe."

Then came the Witch's voice, cooing softly like the voice of a wood-pigeon from the high elms in an old garden at three o'clock in the middle of a sleepy, summer afternoon; and it said:

"What is this sun that you all speak of? Do you mean anything by the word?"

"Yes, we jolly well do," said Scrubb.

"Can you tell me what it's like?" asked the Witch (thrum, thrum, thrum, went the strings).

"Please it your Grace," said the Prince, very coldly and politely. "You see that lamp. It is round and yellow and gives light to the whole room; and hangeth moreover from the roof. Now that thing which we call the sun is like the lamp, only far greater and brighter. It giveth light to the whole Overworld and hangeth in the sky."

"Hangeth from what, my lord?" asked the Witch; and then, while they were all still thinking how to answer her, she added, with another of her soft, silver laughs: "You see? When you try to think out clearly what this sun must be, you cannot tell me. You can only tell me it is like the lamp. Your sun is a dream; and there is nothing in that dream that was not copied from the lamp. The lamp is the real thing; the sun is but a tale, a children's story."

"Yes, I see now," said Jill in a heavy, hopeless tone. "It must be so." And while she said this, it seemed to her to be very good sense.

Slowly and gravely the Witch repeated, "There is no sun." And they all said nothing. She repeated, in a softer and deeper voice. "There is no sun." After a pause, and after a struggle in their minds, all four of them said together. "You are right. There is no sun." It was such a relief to give in and say it.

"There never was a sun," said the Witch.

"No. There never was a sun," said the Prince, and the Marsh-wiggle, and the children.

For the last few minutes Jill had been feeling that there was something she must remember at all costs. And now she did. But it was dreadfully hard to say it. She felt as if huge weights were laid on her lips. At last, with an effort that seemed to take all the good out of her, she said:

"There's Aslan."

"Aslan?" said the Witch, quickening ever so slightly the pace of her thrumming. "What a pretty name! What does it mean?"

"He is the great Lion who called us out of our own world," said Scrubb, "and sent us into this to find Prince Rilian."

"What is a lion?" asked the Witch.

"Oh, hang it all!" said Scrubb. "Don't you know? How can we describe it to her? Have you ever seen a cat?"

"Surely," said the Queen. "I love cats."

"Well, a lion is a little bit—only a little bit, mind you—like a huge cat—with a mane. At least, it's not like a horse's mane, you know, it's more like a judge's wig. And it's yellow. And terrifically strong."

The Witch shook her head. "I see," she said, "that we should do no better with your lion, as you call it, than we did with your sun. You have seen lamps, and so you imagined a bigger and better lamp and called it the sun. You've seen cats, and now you want a bigger and better cat, and it's to be called a lion. Well, 'tis a pretty make-believe, though, to say truth, it would suit you all better if you were younger. And look how you can put nothing into your make-believe without copying it from the real world, this world of mine, which is the only world. But even you children are too old for such play. As for you, my lord Prince, that art a man full grown, fie upon you! Are you not ashamed of such toys? Come, all of you. Put away these childish tricks. I have work for you all in the real world. There is no Narnia, no Overworld, no sky, no sun, no Aslan. And now, to bed all. And let us begin a wiser life to-morrow. But first, to bed; to sleep; deep sleep, soft pillows, sleep without foolish dreams."

[sisididis]

Day 2 of @hetaberia-week

Prompt: Summer 

Antonio and João’s friendship is in danger. 

Or at least Antonio thinks it is. 

After their accidental kiss on the football field, which João had shrugged off as Antonio being Antonio, the Spaniard knew that he had to make it up to his childhood best friend. How? By kissing him a second time in the pitch-black parking lot of a drive-in theater. 

Inspired by this adorable animation.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────────────────‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

“What movie did you say that they were rolling tonight,” João asked ten minutes into their uncharacteristically quiet drive to the neighborhood theater, which was a shy distance from Antonio’s childhood home.

July 1st was a summer night like any other in that it made the young restless and the old reminiscent of their olden days. Everything felt suspended in time, and as far as Antonio was concerned, summer break was nothing but an infinite stretch of heat and cricket song.

Except for the humming of the convertible’s wheels and the wind whipping wildly at their hair, the boys sat in stilled silence – João, bored in the passenger seat, and Antonio, lost in thoughts that seemed to evaporate at the older boy’s question. 

“Casablanca,” Antonio chirped cheerfully, and chanced a glance at João to gauge his reaction. 

It was an old crowd pleaser that habitually attracted dozens of couples after sunset. Under the cover of darkness, boys and girls became braver, and their hands and mouths more curious. Sure, there was always a slight chance that the warden would shine a flashlight into your car and tap on your window to leave, but right now there were worse scenarios tugging at Antonio’s mind. Like him losing his best friend over an accidental kiss.

“Hm,” João hummed, content with Antonio’s answer, as if he had picked the movie himself. 

Antonio exhaled softly. 

He took that as a good omen for the rest of the night and began to slow down as the entrance to the drive-in theater came into view. A split second later, they spotted the queue to the ticket booth and gulped, taking in its length. 

“You’d think that they were giving out free tickets,” João whistled, and Antonio nodded in agreement, clutching the wheel tighter. 

It took all his strength not to hit his head against it. 

In the week that followed their kiss on the football field, Antonio sensed that something profound had shifted between them. Unlike before, he found himself torn between craving and dreading João’s company. His chest felt tight with nerves, and something else that he did not dare voice.

He’d decided that it would be best if he kept his distance from João until he made sense of the war waging within, but the older boy was quick to catch onto that. He’d wasted no time in assuring Antonio that the kiss had meant nothing to him, and that he’d shrugged it off as Antonio being Antonio. But knowing João as he did, Antonio could tell that he didn’t believe that. Neither of them did. 

In a desperate bid to save their friendship, Antonio suggested that they paid the old drive-in theater a visit. 

“Finally!” João sighed. “We’re getting close.”

And a visit they paid.

After moving up the queue with a slowness that put their Iberian patience to the test, Antonio stationed in front of the ticket booth just long enough to pay for two (he had rolled his window shut just in time to avoid João’s insistent bills) then drove to the refreshment stand, where he ordered a bag of popcorn twice the size of his head and two cans of soda. 

As they made their way to their parking space, the Spaniard silently pitied the person who had to pick up all the empty popcorn bags strewn around the parking lot.

“The movie is about to start,” the warden announced, and darkness fell all around them. From the corner of his eye, Antonio noticed how the projector’s beam illuminated the top of João’s dark hair. 

I want to kiss him, he thought, then promptly tucked his hands under him, horrified at how easily the thought crossed his mind. 

He’s your friend, he scolded. 

Your friend. 

He continued to fidget in his seat while João remained seemingly oblivious to his discomfort, pouring all his attention elsewhere. 

“Where were you last night, Rick?”

“That was so long ago, I don’t remember,” drawled the protagonist.

“What a fool I was to fall for a man like you!” Annia cried, and Antonio realized that João and him were almost shoulder to shoulder now. He did not remember his convertible to be so cramped before. His heart hammered in his chest and he wet his lips for the tenth consecutive time. Loudly. 

That tore João’s attention away from the movie, and as he turned to him, there was a touch of a smile in his eyes.

“Just drink already if you’re that thirsty,” he said and handed Antonio his drink.

The drink was cold and tasty, but fizzy. Antonio’s nerves were fizzy, too, bubbling and surging up, up, up, before he forced them back down. He tried to swallow, but the lump lodged in his throat was more stubborn than him. And that said something. 

From above, the voices of the characters rang out again, dripping with sarcasm. 

“Rick is completely neutral about everything, and that takes in the field of women, too!” 

The crowd laughed.

Perhaps a bit of butter could make his throat work again, he thought. A heartbeat later, Antonio reached blindly inside the popcorn bag propped up next to João, and inhaled sharply when he felt something warm against his fingers. 

He froze.

Oh my god. 

That’s his hand, he thought. 

Despite himself, goosebumps sprang on his skin. He was torn. If he drew his hand back suddenly, then that would arouse João’s suspicion, but if he pretended to be absorbed in the movie long enough to let his hand linger on João’s, then…

What to do, what to do?

Sweat began to bead at his temples. 

“Is that cannon fire,” Ilsa whispered against Rick’s embrace, “or is it my heart pounding?” 

Seemingly confused at Antonio’s immobile hand, João turned to look at him.

And green met green. 

Although it was dark, Antonio recognized the startled look on his friend’s face, the blush dusting his cheeks. An unspoken question flickered in João’s eyes. And an unspoken answer flickered in Antonio’s. 

I love you, I love you, I love you, Antonio wanted to yell, but no words passed between them. 

He could see João’s pulse quicken just above his Adam’s apple, and he knew that his did the same. As João began to lean closer, Antonio closed his eyes. His heart was rabbiting wildly in his chest, wanting nowhere but out and inside João. He could feel the older boy's warm breath on his face, almost feel his soft lips on his—!

“Booh!”

Then both of them jumped like two cats drenched in cold water, sending the popcorn bag between them flying and landing on João’s lap.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” someone shouted.

Antonio’s face suddenly flushed red, and he swiveled around to face the anger of the movie watchers, who must have surely seen them. 

“We want our money back!” 

A chorus of approval soon joined the clamor. 

As the red faded from Antonio’s face, it dawned on him that the crowd’s anger wasn’t directed at them, but at the newly-blank projection screen. He’d forgotten that the older movies would cut right in the middle sometimes, and by the looks of it, João had forgotten it, too. 

After a tense minute of waiting, during which neither João nor Antonio dared to breathe, the projectionist got the movie working again and the whole parking lot exhaled with relief. 

“Madre mía,” Antonio whispered and João echoed his sentiment.    

For the remainder of the movie, neither of them spoke or looked at each other. Instead, under the protection of darkness, Antonio cradled his hand that burned with João’s touch, while João licked his unkissed lips in consolation.    

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────────────────‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

After what felt like an eternity, after the crowd had clapped their approval, dried their tears and  started their engines, Antonio finally turned to João and searched his face. He’d expected to see a disappointed João in the passenger seat. Instead, the older boy looked relieved. 

He puffed out a laugh.

“Thank god that’s over with!” 

Antonio frowned. That wasn’t the reaction that he had hoped for. He chewed the inside of his mouth and looked away, but João was quick to notice and touched his shoulder. 

“It wasn’t all bad,” he lied. “I liked the movie.”

You didn’t even watch half of it, Antonio would have retorted had his throat worked. They fell into an uneasy silence.

I want to go home, Antonio thought. He didn’t know how so many things could go wrong at the same time. Before he could continue that thought, João’s voice brought him back to the now empty, street-lamp lit parking lot. 

“What’s that shining in the back?" he asked.  

Antonio followed with his eyes the direction to which João pointed. From a distance, it looked like a man standing behind a ticket booth. As they drew closer and closer, the fortune teller inside the box belted out: 

“Come let Zoltar tell you more!” 

Antonio wondered if the machine was an old carnival attraction that the warden refused to part with. That’s why he must have hid it in the back, he thought, then broke the silence. 

“You like this sort of things?” he asked João.

“Just as much as I liked getting popcorn all over my pants,” João smiled sarcastically. 

That’s right. The popcorn. He’d forgotten. Antonio ducked his head and kicked at the dust. He made to apologize, but the older boy interrupted him before he could. “Come on, ask it a question,” he prompted.

Antonio couldn’t tell if João was joking or not. He exhaled and thought about it for a second, his face illuminated by the crystal ball caressed by the animatronic. João watched the blue light dance on Antonio’s face. Knowing Antonio as he did, he was ready to tease Antonio mercilessly. He could almost hear him.

Zoltar, will I become a famous football player some day?

Zoltar, will I own a farm of turtles? 

Zoltar, will I ever win a lifetime supply of olive oil? 

In reality, Antonio settled on none of those.

“Does João like me, too?” Antonio breathed softly.

And the world stopped. 

Whatever it was that João had wanted to say immediately died on his lips. Antonio felt the older boy stiffen up, saw his mouth part in surprise. He certainly had not expected that. Not even Antonio expected his sudden bout of bravery. But he would not deny himself any longer. He would not fool his heart any longer.

He waited and waited and waited. The entire world was left suspended between his question and João’s answer. Time and its passage had ceased to exist altogether. Even the crickets had stopped their song to listen. 

When at last João’s eyes flickered to meet Antonio’s, Antonio saw that João’s expression had gentled, and his lips had quirked into one of his smiles that he reserved only for him.

You idiot, it said endearingly.

You idiot.

When João stepped tentatively towards Antonio, Antonio was ready. He could feel João’s warm breath on his lips, feel the air in his lungs escape, rush out and leave him empty, craving for João, only João. João brushed his lips softly over Antonio’s, barely there, but close enough for them to know that it wasn’t nearly close enough. Then, leaning in fully, thumbs pressed against Antonio’s cheeks, João kissed Antonio.

Somewhere inside him, everything was exploding at once.

João, his João, loved him back, every inch of him sang. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. 

Antonio responded eagerly to João’s kiss, gripping his shoulders and twisting his fingers into his long hair. They stayed like that until they grew breathless, and remembered that they needed to breathe just as much as they needed each other. 

Soon after they parted, Zoltar spat out a card. It was Antonio who unfolded it as João looked on from behind his shoulder. 

Love is right around the corner, it said, and Antonio laughed. 

João found the sound light, airy and wonderful. 

The Iberians kissed under the moonlight until the crunch of the scattered popcorn under the warden’s boots was but a distant sound, drowned out by their heartbeats. 

[ralphjaredd]

My Hometown made me who I am

I've only been living in Baguio, so I don’t really have much to say that is different from anyone. Growing up in the city shaped how I see the world, but it didn’t come with a lot of exposure to other places. Though we visit our province occasionally, I wouldn’t say I was immersed enough in their culture to say it shaped my sense of self. What I do know, however, is that Baguio, as my home, taught me so much about values and traditions that have stayed with me until today.

One thing that stands out is how people in Baguio respect their elders. From a young age, I was raised to greet my elders properly, listen to their advice, and always offer help whenever I can. It wasn’t just something taught at home; it was everywhere—in schools, in public spaces, and even in how people interact daily. This tradition instilled in me a deep sense of humility and gratitude, knowing that the wisdom of older generations plays a vital role in guiding us. To this day, I find myself carrying this value in how I treat people, not just the elderly but everyone around me. Respect, as they say, goes a long way, and this is one lesson from Baguio I will always carry with me.

Another thing that has significantly shaped me is the culture of queuing. Whether it’s for jeepneys, taxis, or even at the grocery store, people in Baguio are very particular about following lines. I remember standing in long queues during the cold mornings and stressful rush hours, waiting patiently for a ride. While it might seem like a simple everyday act, it taught me two important things: patience and time management. When you know you'll be spending a portion of your time waiting, you learn how to manage your day better and plan accordingly. More importantly, queueing also taught me to respect others' time and effort. No one is more important than anyone else in the line—everyone waits their turn, and that fairness is something I truly admire about the people here.

Lastly, and perhaps my favorite, is the weather in Baguio. The cool breeze and refreshing air have always been a source of comfort for me. Growing up in such a climate shaped how I view relaxation and peace. It’s one of the reasons why I find myself longing for the cool breeze of Baguio whenever I travel to other places. No matter where I go, the warmth and humidity elsewhere never feel quite right. Baguio's weather has a way of grounding me, reminding me of home and the simplicity of life here. It’s more than just a physical preference—it’s a connection to my identity and upbringing.

Living in Baguio has taught me values and traditions that shaped who I am today. Respect for elders, patience from queueing, and a love for the weather have all contributed to my personal development. These simple yet profound lessons show how cultural and environmental factors play a role in shaping one’s identity. While I may not have much exposure to other cultures, I am grateful for what Baguio has taught me. It’s not just a place; it’s a part of who I am.

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Managing Mischief

Rating: PG

Character(s): Mobius (from the LOKI television series)

Summary: Never stop looking.

Disclaimer: Don't own Mobius. Originally written July 8, 2021.

Author's Notes: I'm terrible at summaries. And I'm terrible at titles. Open to suggestions for either or both. AO3 link if you prefer.

Not sure what episode of LOKI had no doubt just aired, but that's the only reason I could think I was inspired to write this bit of business. Cuz I love that show and I used it a lot as a reference in my therapy.

Recently, as we discussed my writing and how she considers me good at "sensory details," my therapist brought up this story; I had totally forgotten about it. After the session, I looked it up and was stunned to discover it was over 3 years old AND not terrible? Totally wild. For ANYONE, let alone my therapist, to recall a story of mine, and one years old, meant THE WORLD. This has made me want to share it, so here I am.

It's nothing profound or earth shattering, but as writing is something I'm trying to become more consistent at / with and is a part of my therapy, maybe sharing it will help somehow with that process. Here's hoping, and here's hoping at least one soul might find something to enjoy.

IF the dang Tumblr queue does what it is supposed to, this will be the last post of 2024 (programming in advance). It's been a tough tough year (for so many of us) but ending it with a post of something I created will hopefully help me carry over creative energy into 2025.

Thank you for reading if you do.

Try as he might, Mobius could not warm up to Miami. And he DID try. If it was a place that he had to be, then surely, he could find a reason to think, "This place isn't so bad." But it was.

Social media and movies and travel websites - since surely brochures did not exist anymore - would have one think that Miami was all glitz and glamor and sunshine. There were pockets of those things to be found, sure, but to Mobius, the city felt excessive.

Too many concrete buildings lining the strip of sand that melted into the ocean. Too many good looking people traipsing around, posing; posing and trying so hard to impress an audience that was sometimes present but oftentimes invisible. These pretty people lived off of the attention of those who could not be seen. Too many palm trees that gave off the impressions of being native and natural, but most of which were actually transplants; strangers in a strange land, not unlike Mobius himself.

As Mobius walked along the shore, he felt the humidity in the air he took into his lungs, lamenting the heat here again. Of all the places in the world, it had to be here? He squinted as he turned his head towards the sun. Miami had too much sun! It sounded ridiculous, even in his head, but this type of unadulterated sun made it feel as though the rays leaned on him, seeping UV into his skin to the point he sometimes swore he could feel the heat in his bones. He sighed as he questioned for the umpteenth time why he was here again? And not unlike an alarm clock signaling the hour at hand, the answer rang out loud and clear.

"Daddy!" His cheeks rose, his lips turned upward and he felt the muscles in his thighs stretch and burn just a little as he squatted down to open his arms. Mobius let out a HUFF of air as his reason for being in Miami did her best to knock him over. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he made that old man noise he started making somewhere around his 38th birthday any time that he did something slightly physical as he stood with his daughter secure in his hold.

"Don't get old, baby, whatever you do," he said, feeling his knees creak as he walked over to the small and unassuming building he had been making his way towards. His daughter laughed.

"You're not old, Daddy. Cuz old people aren't fun and you're SO fun!" His smile widened at the realization that his daughter truly seemed to think the world of him. He felt the same about her which is why he was here, in Miami. He removed his sunglasses and folded them onto the front of his shirt as he put his daughter down and made his way behind the counter. She already had her life vest on so it was his turn. As he buckled it up snugly, he heard a familiar voice in what sounded like a very heated argument.

"I don't care WHAT your work order says, what I got is not what I ordered!" His eyebrows went up as he looked at his little girl. Her fingertips gripped the counter as she pulled herself up to meet her father leaning towards her.

"Mommy's been REAL mad since the new jet ski came in!" At her father's questioning look, she settled back onto her feet and waved so he could follow her, which he did. And whatever Mobius was expecting, it was not what met his eyes.

The body was painted in a deep and rich shade of green and the handles were all gold. The word ostentatious came to mind, but it was quickly followed by regal. Mobius shook his head at the seemingly odd pairing of adjectives. As he rounded the back of the new machine and came to the other side, he laughed before he could stop himself as the word MISCHIEF lined the bottom. How incredibly odd...but also terribly interesting.

"Don't YOU start," his wife's voice warned as she joined them. "I don't know what on Earth this is supposed to be but…" Her hand gestured towards the apparatus as words failed her.

"I kinda like it," he said with a shrug. His wife looked at him incredulously while his daughter jumped as she stood next to it.

"Me too, Daddy! It's pretty!" She took it upon herself to climb on and pose as if she was driving, making noises as her imagination ran wild.

"I think I'm gonna…"

"No. Mobius. Pleeee-eee-eeezzzz," his wife whined but he was already moving the machine into the water, feeling a buzzing and excitement in his blood that he had not felt in regrettably far too long.

"I'll be careful, honey, you know me," he said as he secured himself around and behind his precious little girl. His wife sighed, and since it was loud enough for him to hear, he knew it meant victory.

"You two," she shouted to make sure they heard her as they softly bounced in the water. "Two peas in a pod. DON'T SCRATCH IT OR WE CAN'T SEND IT BACK!" Mobius waved as they continued to just tread water but further and further away from his spouse.

"I wanna keep it," his daughter said, turning and looking up at him. Those big eyes, full of love and trust...he would give her the world. He bent to press his lips to the top of her head before she turned around.

"Well then," he said. "What my Sylvie wants…" In lieu of finishing the thought they both already knew the ending of, he brought the machine to life. Sylvie squealed with delight as her father ever-so-slowly moved them along the water. This wasn't their first rodeo and it wouldn't be their last, and if he had anything to say about it, definitely not the last time they would manage Mischief, so to speak.

As Mobius drove Mischief more smoothly than any of his wife's other rentals, his heart jumped at how much his daughter reminded him of how and why he was exactly right here. This might not be his ideal place to be but if this was his wife's dream, Mobius was happy to be exactly where he was and with present company. And moments like this one were reminders that there was always something worthwhile to find as long as he never stopped looking.

"Think we'll see any gators today, Daddy?"

"You never know, baby. You never know."