#drop writes... sometimes

[asoundofdrop]

The Very Kind Prince

CW: Xiwu passes out from overexertion but that's only for the beginning, I guess the only other warning is OOC banter but that's for all of these shorts LMAO.

Night does not truly fall upon Okhema, but there were moments of calm at the end of a “day” and everyone retreated to their homes to rest. Especially now, with Nikador having sent another wave of his almost endless army to lay siege to the city. The end to this war of attrition remained far out of sight for as long as Castrum Kremnos’s location was obscured.

Mydei kept silent as he patrolled the city. While he didn’t doubt Aglaea’s vigilance, he could hardly be at ease unless he looked for himself.

He eventually passed by the Garden and looked into the infirmary.

They were fully prepared to defend Okhema, but preparation could only prevent so many injuries. Nor did it leave a proper taste in his mouth to know it was their very own crazed and fallen god that left his people in these beds. His only consolation was that they seemed well cared for, and they were simply sleeping away the exertion of fighting.

He needed to work this agitation off. It was likely that man would be in the courtyard at this time, perfecting his swings.

Not too far away, he spotted a body crumpled on the floor.

They look familiar… It was the doctor that came from beyond the skies. Did she get caught up in the attack? Was there a straggler unaccounted for?

“Hey, you—.”

Mydei knelt beside her and turned her over, ready to inspect for injuries, until her face scrunched up as she whined: “Mgh… Dan Heng… 5 more minutes…”

“…”

If he remembered right, her name was Xiwu.

She rolled back onto her stomach, laying face down. Mydei stared at her with disbelief.

He shook her by the shoulder as he spoke, “Hey, this is no place to sleep, fool. Did Aglaea not give you and your friends a room to stay? Wake up.”

Xiwu sat up, pouting her face.

“Mghh, I’m uuup!” She stared at him, silent. After rubbing at her bleary eyes and looking at him again, her expression finally changed to a friendlier one. “…? Oh, it’s you, Mr. Mydei.”

“Who else could it be?” he grumbled.

“If you’re looking for—.” Xiwu stopped to yawn. She then pointed to the infirmary and continued, “Your people should be in there. My magic drained some energy but they’ll be good to go home when they wake up. Mmkay, good night—.”

It was a small but welcome consideration that was her initial assumption of his intentions.

“Hmph. Thank you for your—, hey not so fast!” Mydei shook her harder seeing that she was trying to lay down again. “Thank you for your service, but as I was saying, don't you have a room?”

“Um… I do but… I’ll get there…”

“You… Point where your lodgings are.”

Xiwu blinked owlishly and after a moment, she hesitantly pointed to a stairway to her left.

“You haven’t the faintest idea where it is,” he said bluntly.

During the meeting between Chrysos Heirs, Aglaea had briefly mentioned which place she had lent to the Trailblazers. But even then, Mydei was able to remember, and he was more than certain that the Goldweaver personally escorted them.

“Don’t be so meaan. All these streets look alike!” Xiwu mumbled, sheepishly twiddling her thumbs. “I figured since I was sleepy now, I’d nap and then I would find my way back to my friends after.”

“People will get the wrong idea if they see you like this.”

“Yessir…” A loud rumble interrupted whatever she planned to say next. She pressed her hands to her stomach in embarrassment. “Erm… oops…”

Mydei put a hand to his head, sighing quietly.

“You are more troublesome than the Deliverer himself.” He then stood straight and vaguely gestured, “Follow me.”

Xiwu got up and did as he said with little fuss.

“Are you taking me home?” she asked hopefully.

“You need food first.”

“Oh. Um… is this a good time for me to mention that I forgot all my money?”

“I am the crown prince of Kremnos, there’s no need for your petty change.”

“Whoa… I knew you were a prince but I always see you fighting in the courtyard. Do you actually have a house of gold, Mr. Mydei? Or do you swim in a pool of m—.”

“What sort of fantasies did you make of me?”

“I don’t know what a prince actually has.”

“Nothing of that sort, I can tell you that much.”

He couldn’t help a slight huff of amusement. Very few dared to speak to him like this, as ridiculous as it was. It almost reminded him of the time he first arrived in Okhema at the behest of the Deliverer.

Mydei eventually arrived at a mess hall. Xiwu stopped to stare at it with a slack jaw, but she hurried along to not fall far behind him.

“You have your own very special dining room?” she asked.

“Not just mine. All the Chrysos Heirs come here if they want some privacy for mealtimes. Aglaea will not mind your presence here if I take responsibility.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mydei!”

“Sit here and wait,” he said, gesturing to the open table.

“Oh… well… okay.”

She looked a little dejected as she sat by herself at the table. The sight of it made Mydei pause in his steps, and eventually he added, “But if you don’t run around the kitchen like a certain man, there is room there too.”

“Really?”

Xiwu was happy again in an instant, quickly rushing over. She sat at a counter, swinging her legs back and forth.

Mydei tied on an apron and set to work, rummaging for what was around.

“Y’know, when I heard you were a prince, I never imagined you could cook.”

“Every warrior of Kremnos must learn how to handle food if they’re to grow a strong body and mind.”

Xiwu let out a hum of admiration.

“Did you have someone teach you?”

“For a time. He taught me the basics, and I continued learning on my own.” Mydei’s eyes awkwardly flicked between Xiwu and the ingredients in his hands. “Surely as a traveler, you’ve also learned to cook for yourself?”

“Erm…” Xiwu nervously laughed. “I was… told I’m a fire hazard. Old Master Yehua forbade me after months of trying so it was either him or someone from town who fed me.”

The corner of Mydei’s lips twitched upwards. He quickly turned his back as he began prepwork.

“You mean to tell me that you, a doctor who has spent years in medical science and can wield fire at a whim, cannot cook an egg?”

“…It… depends on how you define ‘cook’. ”

“There is only one such way to.”

“Then it simply comes down to everyone having their specialties, Mr. Mydei,” she said matter-of-factly, but he could spot the tips of her ears burning a faint red.

“A paltry excuse,” he retorted lightheartedly.

With prepwork done, Mydei heated a skillet on the fire. The sound of sizzling food soon filled the room with a smell that made Xiwu drool with anticipation. His eyes rarely left the skillet as he reached for the spices on the counter nearby, the movements practiced and calm.

He eventually took the skillet off the fire and set it in front of her, offering a fork.

“Whoaa, all for me? You’re not eating?”

“I already ate before.”

“But it was a pretty huge fight. Don’t make me eat all by my lonesome, Mr. Mydei!” She was so insistent, smiling so widely, that he hesitantly looked for another fork. “So, what’s this?”

“Spetzofai. A simple enough dish, but it has protein and vegetables.”

“Ohh, it’s pretty yummy. And spicy.” Xiwu happily hummed with a mouthful. “Thank you again, Mr. Mydei. If you don’t want money, then what can I do?”

He stared at the skillet, briefly thinking over his answer.

“Nothing. Simply repayment for your service to my people.”

“Hmm… Mr. Mydei, you really are full of love.”

“Huh—?”

Mydei wasn’t sure what to call the face he was making then.

“Well, from what I hear, crown princes don’t usually cook for a doctor. You must really love your people to want to thank someone like that, and I’ll bet that they’re lucky to have you.”

“Hmph. Your leaps in logic are ridiculous.”

What Mydei has done for the Kremnoans throughout his lifetime, he was certain others would agree was the bare minimum. Or perhaps, they would say it wasn’t enough. Maybe a certain other would know how to do more.

He held up a hand in time to gently block Xiwu’s finger from prodding the corner of his mouth.

“You sure frown a lot when you think. That’s how you get wrinkles.”

Mydei scoffed.

“Don’t concern yourself with something so inconsequential and just eat.”

[generalsdiary]

Sunday mannerisms I noticed during the 2.7 livestream

when he finds something funny or amusing but doesn't laugh out loud - his right wing twitches

when he is happy or joyous - his left wing twitches

when he is flustered, shy or laughing out loud - both wings twitch

[remxedmoon]

practicing self care (projecting my stims on my blorbos)

greyscale vers below the cut!

[witless-winion1]

imagine Polites was in the courtyard for the last battle of Troy. Imagine he looks up from bandaging a comrade’s injury, and sees his friend. Helmet off, head lowered, face pinched in what could only be described as anguish. Polites would have called to him, but he knows better than to interrupt Ody during his Big Brain Thinking moments.

but then his friend raises something into view over the wall; a swaddle of white, and it’s squirming, enough that Polites could see it from where he stands, now frozen in confusion and inexplicable dread. Odysseus loved kids and babies, he wouldn’t harm one for any reason. Hell, he’d cried so hard when Penelope gave birth to Telemachus that he’d nearly passed out from dehydration. He’d spared every child in every battle in this ten-year war.

but his friend extends his arm, holding the swaddle precariously by the ends of the blanket, over the thirty foot drop onto the solid stone ground. The innocent baby just wiggles unconcernedly.

Polites opens his mouth, but whatever he was going to say (because he certainly didn’t know himself) gets caught, and then his friend lets go.

and Polites can’t turn away as the white swaddle falls, a sudden, tiny cry starting from the hidden infant’s throat, that cuts off when it hits the ground, with a sound that Polites never wanted to hear again, and the white turns red.

Out of every horror he’s seen that night, that’s the one he dreams of when he eventually lays his head down to sleep.

He wakes thrashing, falling out of his hammock, and Odysseus’s hand jerks from his shoulder to his side, catching him before he can hit the ground and aggravate whatever minor injuries he got from the last battle.

Polites has always been a very honest person. Since boyhood, since he told his mother was sick because he ate too much sesamous when he was five, confessed to Odysseus and Eurylochus that he didn’t like hunting when he was nine, told his aunt she was too unkind to the less fortunate then them when he was thirteen.

when Odysseus asks him what troubles him, Polites can’t seem to bring himself to admit the truth.

when they sail for home, he forces himself not to avoid his captain. They’ve all done horrible things in the heat of Ares’ domain. but a baby? whispers his conscious.

Shush, he tells it. There’s a logical solution, there has to be.

and yet Odysseus offers none, and he is too cowardly to ask for it, and gods know he cannot make sense of it no matter how he tosses and turns with the rocking ship.

when they reach the island of the Lotus Eaters, Polites smiles at the funky little guys, adoring their blissful grin. He crouches and strokes it, cooing about how soft it is. Odysseus hums, unfazed, and grumpy. Polites can tell he hasn’t slept well the past few weeks. But he reaches down anyway and picks one up under the arms, studying it from every angle while the innocent creature just wiggles unconcernedly in his hands.

Polites can’t help the urge to gently pull the creature from his hands. He smiles to cover whatever tension there is, and places the lotus eater safely in the ground.

he reminds his friend that there’s no need to constantly be suspicious and prone to fighting; why not default to greeting the world with kindness and open arms? Even though trust may get taken advantage of sometimes, it would at least alleviate the risk of unnecessary blood spilled.

and as Odysseus looks away, Polites sees the pain in his eyes, staring at the Lotus eaters as they tumble around with each other. One drops suddenly from a low tree limb, and while Polites manages to stifle his wince, Odysseus is caught just off-guard enough to flinch when it hits the ground with a thump. The lotus eater gets up and ambles off without a scratch.

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms,” Polites says softly, reaching out to grasp his friend by the elbow. “I see in your face, there is so much guilt inside your heart…”

Polites could see as the words hit home, his friend’s shoulders drooping as he looks up at him. His eyes are nearly akin to what Argos’s looked like when their ships sailed from Ithaca’s harbor.

“…so why not replace it, and light up the world; here’s how to start…” Polites gently squeezes his arm. “Greet the world with open arms.”

“Greet the world with open arms…” Odysseus repeated softly, leaning into him. Polites let him hide his face in his chest, wrapping him in his arms and letting him hide from the weight of his not-so-secret sins.

[atissi]

had to watch the new Folding Ideas video twice, read all of the comments, watched Lady Emily's video, watch an AVGN video for the first time (sorry i'm gen z), failed to get through Wavelength (1967), read a bunch about Wavelength (1967), and read through a bunch of Twitter comments, but i think i'm finally understanding the artistry in "i don't know james rolfe"

narratively it's dan olson revealing the rorschach test of media analysis, i.e. there was no way for him to critically analyze james rolfe's career without revealing all of his own obsessions and insecurities, just as james rolfe reveals himself through his film and video game reviews. this concept is lampshaded by the highlighting of Wavelength (1967), an extremely minimal and obtuse film that engages with the idea of inattention — meaning that bored or negative responses to the work are still responses to the theme. which is cool.

and it's cool that criticisms of dan olson's video include people upset that he hyper-focused on specific elements of james rolfe's life and not other, arguably more important elements, such as the Monster Madness controversy or james's time in special ed — almost as though the character of dan olson is cherrypicking aspects of james rolfe's life that are the most personally wounding to him. aspects that expose dan's insecurities relating to filmmaking and failed dreams, expressed through the vessel of AVGN.

but meta narratively, the video becomes a rorschach test for the audience — your response to the video reveals your own obsessions and insecurities in how you relate to dan olson. why does someone find the video mean-spirited? why does someone else think the video is self-serving? why do I feel so awkward watching dan attempt a deeper, more abstract creative work?

where does dan olson end and the character of dan olson as a media critic begin? where do you as an audience member end, and YOU begin?

it's projection all the way down

[sevenrestdays]

AU where Luo Binghe transmigrates into real life/Shen Yuan's world and his protagonist halo just completely dissappears—

—but in the most petty, stupid ways possible.

Say goodbye to perfectly clean, unwrinkled clothing! You move even two centimeters? Wrinkles. And the fact Luo Binghe wears primarily black clothing? You bet that any and every dust particle, animal hair, piece of dirt or literally anything that shows against black clothing will stick to Luo Binghe's clothes so often that the man starts to carry around a small lint roller.

Luo Binghe will trip over anything and everything. The only thing that was saving him from being an absolute clutz was the protagonist's halo, which is gone now.

His skin? Insanely sensitive, he learns. He needs to spend the next five months (minimum) looking into what products help with the ten different problems (minimum) his skin has — depending on the season — making sure they work and that he also isn't ALLERGIC to them. Yeah, allergies are also a thing now.

His hair, instead of being effortlessly styled and kept without doing anything, is now a bird's nest. Frizz so bad that the curl pattern is barely visible. Not only that, but it's also super dry and damaged. He now has a fifteen step skin care routine and eleven step hair care routine and is also the reason Shen Yuan's bank account regularly dips into the negatives — more than usual.

He not only randomly spawned into a world he knows nothing about, but he also just got debuffed to the max.

[geothewriter]

Vermillion Seas Cardinal Skies: Chapter 32 - The Dawn

As one threat wanes, another rises, and Aang will have to face the consequences of his actions as a fight against the Fire Lord looms. And…just what are the Fire Sages up to?

--

Hi y’all! 

I had a few questions come in last time around about how that whole thing worked regarding Katara and her ‘abilities.’ The answers will arrive in due time - soon! Just know that the machinations behind everything have been in motion for far longer than it may be apparent. On another note, this week’s chapter is brought to you by the letter H. As in Holy shit. 

I thoroughly enjoyed all of your comments and the surprise in the last chapter, and I hope that as we power on through to the end that we reach a satisfying conclusion to this story together. 

As always, a major thank you and the biggest of props to the best beta/editor/friend/person/fruit there is - @achillmango. You legit make this possible every time, and no, I won’t stop shouting you out.

Now, without any additional delay, please enjoy Chapter 32 of Vermillion Seas Cardinal Skies - The Dawn.

Aang’s mind is in turmoil as he launches a chunk of mountain toward the distant airship. Blue fire? Zuko never mentioned that. Does the Fire Lord share Azula's sapphire flames? The ship begins to fall from the sky with its balloon torn asunder, and as it sinks, a plume of flame paints the sky above. A signal.   One by one, the flames cease from the other vessels, and the Fire Lord is rapidly approaching. He focuses on the fleet, and…they've stopped. A miracle? Except–  A stream of fire builds and roars toward him, closing in at breakneck pace. He takes a breath and launches himself into the air, just barely avoiding the azure flames as they bathe the rocky column where he was positioned just a second earlier.  “AHH!” He yelps, spinning around and pushing himself out of the way of dozens more blasts.  He’s on the back foot right from the start; he needs to buy himself time to assess the situation and come up with a new strategy. With a wave of his hand, he pulls a mass of wind from below and directs it toward the origin of the fireballs as he continues to dodge through the air.  It does the job well. The blast throws his opponent off balance, and as he lands on another pillar, the stark realization hits him like lightning to the chest.  “What are you doing here?!” He shouts as a sudden, angry frustration escapes him. “Where’s the Fire Lord!?”

Continue Reading on AO3.

[obae-me]

Oh, cool, new feature in game! Oh, it's in akuzon, probably like 10 bucks or something, I--

W-Wait, pardon?

30 DOLLARS? 30??? Are you kidding me? I'm a hardcore Luci stan, but I don't think I can drop 30 dollars for a small story that I have the feeling only lasts five minutes, if even that... If for some godforsaken reason I snag this next time I get paid, if anyone wants to see screenshots of Luci's story, I will gladly share

[asoundofdrop]

A Sizzling Tango

A/N: I'M SO EXCITED FOR BOOTHILL'S BANNER, HIS TRAILER GOT ME WORKING ON THIS FOR SOME DAYS STRAIGHT CW: Written pre-Boothill banner, not-so-implied violence, questionable morals?

“Hmm… this is so weird. I could have sworn the Express was parked somewhere around here.”

Xiwu’s mumblings went unheard, with no one else around as she stood atop the closest building she could find. She folded her arms and continued to scan the area from above. Despite her best efforts, it seemed impossible to retrace the steps she took when all of it looked the same.

“Oh! Maybe…”

She pulled out her cellphone. Turning it on only showed a black screen and a red battery icon—which, from what she remembered, meant it wasn’t useable.

“…Right.” Xiwu sniffled as she tucked it back into her satchel. “Mgh… I’m gonna be in such big trouble with Mr. Yang and Dan Heng when I get back, aren’t I?”

She was at a loss for what to do, but there was no point in standing around. She’ll just sit down and mope. That way when something does come to mind, she’ll have plenty of energy. Plus, it wasn’t as if this situation was completely bad—at least there was a clear sky to look at. The city lights blocked out much of the stars but the moon was still large and bright. Much better than absolutely nothing.

…None of these thoughts completely chased the dread of the scolding that’ll eventually come. Xiwu could already imagine it.

“You’ve been told over and over how dangerous it is to just run off somewhere. Without even telling anyone,” Dan Heng would say. “You chase things too simplemindedly.”

Which wasn’t true! It wasn’t as if she only had one single thought. When she decided to follow that cat, she was wondering what kind of home it had. Maybe it had a whole family of cats to return to! Or along the way, she just might find something interesting. Caelus would understand, he tended to like the things she brought back from her adventures even if no one else quite did.

There wasn’t a point to mentally arguing this. She’ll just have to prepare herself when she’s actually at the Express’s doors. Somehow… Whenever that will be.

She laid on her back and sighed. The glass roof felt cold through her clothes in a way that she would call refreshing.

“Things are so quiet at night. I bet nobody’s even awake for me to ask directions from…”

Something flew past her ears. She sat up and looked around, wondering if it had just been her imagination. Before she could completely dismiss her alarm, several others soon followed.

It was unmistakably gunfire. Thankfully, only one of the bullets made contact with her. She couldn't help sulking though that it left a small rip in her sleeve. She moved to her feet, but the sound of cracking was faster and a sense of weightlessness overtook her.

She helplessly flailed her arms as she plummeted.

“I shouldn’t have chosen this roof!!!”

She crashed into the floor headfirst—was someone else groaning too? The floor was also unusually hard, solid, and… shiny. Even considering the height of her fall, it shouldn’t be hurting her head this much. Still, she was grateful that was all she got. Nothing that wouldn’t heal.

“What the fudge?! They got reinforcements waitin’ on the rooftop?!”

Xiwu yelped. The world flipped, and now a gunbarrel was pressed right between her brows.

“Huh?! What...?” The person aiming it was… some metal-looking guy with black and white hair. It clicked in her head, and Xiwu smiled up at him as she said, “Oh! It’s Mr. Boothill!”

“Yer…” He lowered the revolver and squinted. “The doctor from…?!”

“Did I—?”

“Now’s not the Aeon-blessed time for this!” he scolded.

Her sudden arrival had only bought several seconds of a peaceful exchange. The others in the building quickly regathered themselves and continued firing. Boothill shoved Xiwu back down, hovering just a few inches from her as he retaliated. Although it seemed like they were surrounded, he shot his revolver so fervently that he was outpacing the enemies on his own.

Xiwu grunted as she pushed at his chest, trying to get up so she could find the fans in her satchel. Despite all her strength, the cyborg Ranger was impossible to budge.

“Don’tcha make a move now, cutie! Just sit your cake there!”

“Get off of me! I don’t know what’s happening but I’m not useless!”

“Just trust me on this one, will ya?”

He sounded serious.

At his order, she kept still. It was difficult to say the least. She desperately wanted to see who it is they’re facing or get any other context to what was happening.

To add to the confusion, Boothill pulled her to her feet without warning, sending her stumbling a few steps. He held tightly onto her wrist as he then spun her around.

“Waah! S-So everyone here is…?”

“Yer not doin’ a thing! All you gotta do is keep up!”

Xiwu shrieked, feeling like nothing more than a ragdoll. Everything was spinning too fast and the only thing she could identify in view was Boothill. She was either flung out or pulled close to his chest.

Was this… meant to be dancing?

Whatever he was doing was probably planned. The enemies’ projectiles flew past them, but the cyborg Ranger wasn’t safe from getting his feet stepped on. If she did do that, a flicker of pain never showed up on his grinning face.

“C’mon now, don’t tell me ya got two left feet!” he teased.

“I don’t even know what’s happening!”

She yanked on Boothill’s jacket with her spare hand as he dipped her by the waist, making Boothill heartily laugh. His long hair and bright red cape fell forward. They draped around her like a curtain and kept her widened eyes straight on him.

“Anywho, I owe ya an apology. This is the best I can do for now.”

“Do what?”

He pulled her up and continued dancing around. Xiwu could vaguely hear he was saying something else, but she couldn’t make out any of the words over the chaos. All things aside, he seemed to be having the most fun out of everyone.

His leading steps guided them to a side room. In a single smooth move, he brought her inside and kicked the door shut behind them. He immediately looked up to the window and tried to shoot it, but the bullet didn’t even scratch it.

“Sweet, just our luck. You, can’t ya go hide somewhere?”

“I said before—!”

“You don’t wanna cause trouble for Dan Heng and the other folks on the train, would ya darling?!”

Xiwu closed her mouth.

Was that what he was worried about? It’s probably his way of being sincere, though she hadn’t expected Dan Heng to be right about it extending to the rest of the Express through him.

Once she hid behind a stack of boxes, the cyborg Ranger charged back into the heat of battle like nothing happened.

This wasn’t how she expected her night to go. From being hopelessly lost in a new city to being cooped up in… she stared at the logo printed on one of the boxes—an IPC building, it seems. Was that why Boothill was acting so weird? Not that she knew him well enough to know if he was acting normal either.

Or why he was here to begin with. Barging in on a heated and armed conflict did narrow down her options. Now that she thought about it, Aventurine did say he was in town for some sort of business, and he was a pretty important person of the IPC. Could that be the reason…?

He probably already left though. It is late… maybe too late to find food before going back to the Express.

…What is Boothill like anyway? Dan Heng never elaborated on that when he talked about the cyborg Ranger. It was mostly just the “do’s” and “don’ts” that he emphasized.

There was much that Xiwu had to contemplate. She hardly realized that the noise had died down and Boothill kicked his way back into the room.

“Ya nice and cozy down there?”

“Ah—.” Xiwu hopped to her feet and dusted off her skirt. “So am I allowed to go yet?”

“Yup, should be nary a peep about you bein’ seen with me. Just uh…”

Boothill took off his hat and covered her face.

“I’m not five! …You killed them all, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Let’s just say, it’s a shame that ‘catching up’ with some… ‘old friends’ didn’t end so well.” Xiwu nudged his hat away, and he put it back on his head. His lips were pulled into a thin line as he asked warily, “What’s it to you, doc?”

She looked past him, at the fallen bodies that covered the floor. She then turned her attention to the small trail of blue leaking from his forehead.

“Yes, I’m a doctor for sure.”

Xiwu reached for the fan in her satchel. With a flick of her wrist, she opened it and waved it through the air, casting a gentle red glow over the open scrape. Boothill brushed a finger against where it used to be, finding no sting as if it was never there.

“If I can’t do anything for the dead, I’ll just do everything for the living and injured. That’s my way of doing things as a traveling doctor of the Express. So, while I won’t stop you from doing your own business, just know I take my oath very seriously.”

To emphasize her point, she closed her fan against the palm of her hand with an audible snap and swiftly put it back.

The cyborg Ranger burst into a fit of laughter. He should have expected as much from a person who can smile in front of a gunbarrel, let alone an Express member who faced down an embodiment of an Aeon.

“Aren’tcha oozin’ with righteousness too, huh? And you’ve got gumption to boot!”

“Hehe, it comes with many years under the belt! Plus you gotta have something to be a Nameless!”

Xiwu puffed her chest out with pride.

“Now that things are settled… I get trailblazin’ is your thing and all but I’ve been meanin’ to ask, what exactly were you doin’ up there on your own?”

“…Um.”

She deflated just as quickly.

“I seem to recall Dan Heng callin’ you a handful too—.”

“That’s not it! I was just…! Just…”

The universe had decided this was not enough embarrassment. Her stomach growled loud enough to reverberate across the room, earning a raised brow from Boothill.

“Suppose I didn’t need to ask.”

“…Ignore that! Turn off your ears! I was gonna go home anyway which I definitely know where it is!” she yelled.

“What are ya on about—.”

“Nothing!”

Xiwu pushed past him out of the room and made a left, only to hear him chime from behind her: “The door’s the other way there, darling. Don’t tell me… ya don’t actually know where ya parked the train.”

If he had already figured out her predicament so fast, there was no pride left to be salvaged.

She immediately dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands to wail. And here, Boothill thought he could be quite flippant himself.

“Hey, c’mon!” he grumbled as he caught up to her. “Look, it’s ma bad… How ‘bout this, why don’t I take ya to find some grub and then we can go to the Express together.”

Xiwu’s wailing slowly stopped.

“…You’ll really come with?”

“Since ya got wrapped up in my business, we’ll just call it even. Are ya gonna stop pitchin’ a hissy fit now?”

She got back up and sheepishly nodded her head.

“And… and… if they ask, can you just say I was with you all day…?”

“Yeah, yeah, if that’ll keep Dan Heng off yer case.”

“You’re… a really nice person.”

“I can see what he meant…”

[love-fireflysong]

I'm just saying you guys, if you're a fanfic author and you're going through a rough period where you keep feeling like your writing is shit and awful and just absolute garbage, just reread your own work.

You don't even have to look at the comments if you're going through a particularly nasty patch where you're convinced everyone is just lying and was only saying nice things to spare your feelings. Just reread the fic itself. It'll change your mind so quick I promise.

There's seriously nothing quite like clicking on what is *your* most popular fic and going 'Oh. I get it now. I think I understand why other people actually like this one so much holy shit'.

[desertcrater]

the thing about writing hilson fic is that, like. nothing i can ever come up with could be as unhinged as the canonical events within the show. i can write wilson as quietly manipulative and repressed as i want, and it still won't hold a candle's flame to his in-show characterization. he's a chronic liar whose only truth is his love for house. i can make house as loudly lonely as i want, and again it cannot compare to his in-show characterization. he burns every bridge he has so long as wilson can stay by his side. their codependency has no canonical limits or bounds. the threat of federal prison or divorce or removal of licenses doesn't faze them enough to change; nothing does except for the threat of death. writing hilson is like being given free rein to write insanity on their unhinged landscape, so long as they're both written true to their own Desires and whack moral codes. because, again, anything i could write will still pale in comparison to the actual show

[workingchemistry]

“It matters not to me what form you take.” Thor soothes, echoing the words he spoke centuries earlier when Loki hesitantly explained that he was not always a prince but that did not necessarily mean he was Asgard’s princess either. “Whether you are my brother, my sister, my sibling, or a glorious snake, you are still my kin to protect above all else in Asgard.”

“And what do you propose I am, if not Asgardian?”

Fear grips tight to Thor’s heart but he does not falter. “Loki, you are Jotun.”

[campbyler]

hello! im a big acswy fan! this is not a question, i just wanted to thank you guys for making acswy mike wheeler be a one direction stan, a glasses-wearer, a book annotation enthusiast and a pin collector. representation matters and i am being represented!!!!!! he is me!! i am him!! we are one!!!! super excited for what's to come (this isn't pressure in any way shape or form, just thought i'd let y'all know im looking forward to the rest of our camp whiteman journey!!) 💙💛

you know, i was actually just talking to someone about this the other day but i think it’s so interesting that we gave both mike and will glasses in this fic (astigmatism4astigmatism so true to me) but we get so many more comments about people loving mike with glasses than we do will! i do know some aspects of mike’s characterization are more intertwined with the plot/more written in than will’s are (the zeldaisms, annotations, etc) but i can probably count on one hand the comments we’ve gotten about glasses wearer will LOL. maybe i should conduct an official study or something? i feel like that could be interesting data to collect. ANYWAYS, just thinking aloud there for a mo bc it reminded me and i have a hard time shutting up but THANK YOUUU and you are so welcome!! i think we have adequately represented ourselves in our mike and will and pretty equally as well (and also very bravely refrained from projecting when it wouldn’t feel right. even when we Reallyyyyy wanted to 😔) not to delve too much into the details of Everything but book annotator mike specifically is such a real and true hc to me!! i think his copies would just be so well loved and dog eared and scribbled in, except for maybe some special editions or gifts, etc. i just see him as someone who really enjoys and appreciates his things but without feeling the need to keep them perfectly preserved or pristine. and — this is very important, i don’t think it has officially come up here before —the lore behind the 1D part of his characterization is that mike is a happy victim of Guy With An Older Sister Syndrome and was exposed to their full discography when nancy was into them during their peak. i think the combination of the music being catchy and fun and all around good and enjoyable + the nostalgia of rare sibling bonding time would have really made it stick for him! (<- spoken as someone who spent years holding her younger sister hostage in the car and playing music for her. can guarantee it works)

[doesnotloveyou]

the way other fanfic writers write boys and men tells me a lot of you have never observed men interacting in the wild much less had male friends of your own. he literally wouldn't do that

[lupine-trees]

in a name.

[ found this lovely little thing i wrote ages ago & remembered i’m rather fond of it. i hope you enjoy it, too. poem-adjacent? (happy ending, i promise!) ♡ ]

drarry | word count: 248 | a rumination on names.

_ _ _

The Malfoy line is at long last ended.

Draco Malfoy is dead.

.

Lucius Malfoy, at the end,

has no

power,

money,

friends.

He takes his name

(for it’s all he holds)

to the waiting grave.

Lucius Malfoy is dead.

.

Narcissa Malfoy singly knows,

no-where is her sudden home.

She walked eyes clear to

a gilded cage,

a glasswork house,

a burning stage.

The Manor felled her.

The ancestral home

knows her no more

and offers her no shelter.

She acquaints,

intimates herself

with the clawing marks

of shame.

She signs the papers

in her sister’s kitchen,

severs a tie,

stitches a wound.

She departs for France,

clutching tight on the plane—

a hope,

a fear,

a new-old name.

She arrives, she knows:

C’est la maison.

Narcissa Black is a woman untethered.

Narcissa Malfoy is dead.

.

Draco Malfoy who cursed the stars

is going to give up the ghost.

Haunted by the laugh of a spitfire man

who insists upon keeping him close.

Aye, there’s the rub.

What’s in a name?

A man he reads,

named Shakespeare claims,

“A rose by any other name...”

There’s something sweet

in letting go,

in healing the hurting

caused once by the rose.

He turns the thorns

from whence they came.

He lets the petals fall.

He marries, is merry,

with lover, his Harry,

who holds him

and whispers,

“Potter.”

“That’s Mr.”

Draco Potter kisses the sun,

the boy who lived,

and finds his life abloom.

Draco Malfoy is dead.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

For the three sentence game thing:

Braces

Or, if you’re not a fan/can’t think of anything for that

Ornamentation/ornaments

Hope you have fun with it!

”Okay, but who had to suffer through braces?” Wind asked the group as he poked an ornament on the Christmas tree. “Because they’re the absolute worst.”

”I think getting shot is probably the absolute worst,” Warriors noted dully, his voice muffled as he lay face down on the sofa.

”I don’t know, getting blown up kind of sucked too,” Wild commented thoughtfully.

Warriors’ head shot up. “Getting what?!”