#I love syntax and thinking of words and whatever

[momokatzetzgo]

Guys I like kinda need to be good at the deciphering system in Homicipher because I am straight a linguistics major; like if the monster dating simulator game defeats me through its use of intermixing SOV and SVO then I am COOKED for my syntax exam

[thepandalion]

being the world's worst morphology fan on main right now but literally every time I use/think a word that has the "de-" prefix I almost melt like that's such a fun prefix and I love that it just means the removal of the noun following it. like. idk why.

[whispers-whump]

Some writing advice

that I like to use when I write. None of this is meant to be taken as hard and fast rules, they’re just things I like to do/keep in mind when I’m writing and I thought maybe other people would enjoy! <3

Never say what you mean

This is an offshoot of the very common “show don’t tell” advice, which I think can be confusing in application and unhelpful for scenes where telling is actually the right move. Instead, I keep the advice to never say exactly what I mean in stories.

By using a combination of showing and telling to hint at what you really mean, you force your reader to think and figure it out on their own, which makes for a more satisfying reading experience.

You might show a character getting angry and defensive in response to genuine care and concern. You could tell the audience that the character doesn’t see/talk to their parents often. But never outright give the real meaning that the character feels unlovable because of their strained relationship with their parents and as a result they don’t know how to react to being cared for.

Your readers are smart, you don’t need to spoon feed them.

Be sparse with the important things

You know how in a lot of movies there’s that tense scene where a character is hiding from something/someone and you can only just see this person/thing chasing them through a crack in the door? You get a very small glimpse of whatever’s after the character, sometimes only shadows being visible.

Do that in your writing. Obscure the important things in scenes by overdescribing the unimportant and underdescribing the important.

You might describe the smell of a space, the type of wood the floor is made of, the sound of work boots moving slowly across the room, a flashlight in the character’s hand. And there’s a dead body, laying in a pool of blood in the far corner of the room, red soaking into the rug. Then move on, what kind of rug is it? What is the color, patterns, and type of fabric of the rug?

Don’t linger on the details of the body, give your reader’s imagination some room to work while they digest the mundane you give them.

Dialogue is there to tell your story too

There’s a lot of advice out there about how to make dialogue more realistic, which is absolutely great: read aloud to yourself, put breaks where you feel yourself take a breath, reword if you’re stuttering over your written dialogue. But sometimes, in trying to make dialogue sound more realistic, a little bit of its function is lost.

Dialogue is more than just what your characters say, dialogue should serve a purpose. It’s a part of storytelling, and it can even be a bridging part of your narration.

If you have a scene with a lot of internal conflict that is very narration-heavy, breaking it up with some spoken dialogue can be a way to give some variety to those paragraphs without moving onto a new idea yet; people talk to themselves out loud all of the time.

Dialogue is also about what your characters don’t say. This can mean the character literally doesn’t say anything, they give half-truths, give an expected answer rather than the truth (“I’m fine”), omit important information, or outright lie.

Play with syntax and sentence structure

You’ve heard this advice before probably. Short, choppy sentences and a little onomatopoeia work great for fast-paced action scenes, and longer sentences with more description help slow your pacing back down.

That’s solid advice, but what else can you play with? Syntax and sentence structure are more than just the length of a sentence.

Think about things like: repetition of words or ideas, sentence fragments, stream of consciousness writing, breaking syntax conventions, and the like. Done well, breaking some of those rules we were taught about language can be a more compelling way to deliver an emotion, theme, or idea that words just can’t convey.

Would love to hear any other tips and tricks other people like to use, so feel free to share!!!

[py-dreamer]

So... I know I'm late...

But yea! I said I was coming back with some stickers and I kept my word! I would've hoped that I could've completed the sheet in like a day but as you can see...that didn't work out

I know I've been a bit MIA lately but burnout sucks. I do have a lot of WIPS I really want to work on but again, it seems that the ProcrastiNation hath struck my feeble mortal brain again.

But anyways:

I headcanon Aroace Mei, just a personal headcanon (disagree if you like) I also like lesbian Mei but thought I'd give some aroace appreciation

Silktea was only given 1 episode but OH BOY did it fuel our wild shipping habits. And I jumped on the bandwagon. It's a reference to that scene in She-Ra where Scorpia tells Catra she 'didn't want to do this' then wraps kitty up in the blankey and cradles her like a wee baby. And Sandy would do that for any friend, I will die on this hill

Saw a fanart where Mk had a pig nose themed pacifier and I just yoinked that idea. The pig hoodie and the pacifier seems like something Tang would do for Pigsy (also to get away with free noodles cause who can say no to that face?~)

Mac showing Wukong the lantern. What can I say, mans' fascinated by them pretty lights. Though our little performer's eyes seem to be straying from the show (^u ')

I know many people have issues with shipping with Nezha and such and I know the two had a rough history but y'know what fans do; they love to make the people who kill each other soulmates (platonic, romantic or otherwise) Even if it wasn't romantic, I still love the idea of them being buddies and just chilling, the danger noodle prince and the angy prince snuggle and watch a movie (mainly from Nezha 2019 but I also saw New Gods and can I just say, I want those two twinks to bicker then kiss awkwardly and I want Yun Xiang to BEAT. HIS. ASS) but in case anyone asks, I do perceive Nezha to be a consenting adult in general outside shipping drama and if the two are adults, it does make my heart squeal when I see these two hold hands and whatnot

HOW COULD I EVER FORGET MY SPICYBOIS, inspired by that one Ponyo kiss scene. I was actually gonna make a bigger piece but then I saw someone do it already in a much better fashion than I ever could and I just gave up on the idea but Ig here, its just like the two cakes mentality and I gave it a go. Hope I could do the concept justice

Have spider queen or scorpion queen ever interacted before? No. But they are both queens and I believe Spider Queen's confidence could rub off on Scorpion Queen and she'd appreciate the company of Spider Queen's children henchmen. Also she give yummy food so lesbian venomqueens for the win

Redraw of that moment with Peng and Azure. I normally detest that bird but these two do get some gears grinding and whatever anyone says. Neither of those two are straight. I'll tell ya that.

Toxicinsanity is another rarepair that had like 1 sec screen time. I don't think they'd ever work out in canon and had virtually no chemistry. I still love all the fluffy ship content I can find of them though and if it ever were to happen. I think the mayor would scare the sh!t out of Syntax

Let's get at least one hetero couple here, Chang'e and Hou'Yi are a couple of favorites ngl, I took most of their outfits from Over the moon cause both of them looked stunning, Chang'e especially. I've seen people ship mah girl with other people and while I do agree it's healthy to move on, in my heart she will always long for Hou'Yi

Also irl, on valentines, my mum took us out for lunch, she treated us to bubble tea and donuts. We walked home so I waited to drink mah drink in my room while I drew and I accidentally finished it all... I'm so sorry mum

f*ck I forgot ironbull. Uhh....I'll draw something later, rn I need to go to bed before I get yelled at...

click pic for less sh!ty quality!

[galactiquest]

Feral for affection uncanny vash or knives.

🌻have a good day

Hi there Sunflower Anon! I'm going to call you that, especially if you come back again with another sunflower. Thanks for the ask!!

I've seen the uncanny Vash and Knives stuff blow up in popularity. I Was there. Though sometimes I feel it's disingenuous to call them uncanny--that's our human interpretation of their forms. Maybe something more along the lines of primal? Well, syntax aside, I think it's a super fun idea to lean more into the alien ideals of Plants. I have plenty of my own headcanons for how the two look and operate, but, let's not focus on that right now. Let's just get affectionate!

Vash and Knives x Reader: Affections (Uncanny ver.)

Content Warnings: General uncanny or possibly unnerving content ahead. Features like multiple eyes/limbs/etc. are discussed, and there may be an implicit body horror to it. No violence, though! Just cuteness aside from all that!

Vash

I think Vash is pretty hesitant at first to show you any sort of uncanny parts of himself. I mean, we already know how he feels about his scars--he really doesn't want to scare you off, especially once you two have become close.

But if you can slowly and gently coax him out of his shell, if you can convince him that yes, you'll love every part of him, no matter how ugly he may think those parts are, he'll eventually relent.

And at first, it's just a few features that pop out. It might be reflective, glowy eyes in the nighttime, or fingers that have grown out just a little too long for the average man, or even a few spiny scutes along his back.

Once he's comfortable, though? He lets it all hang out. Not like that--he just allows his true form to come through. And there's lots of limbs and even some sharp edges to deal with... But if you're patient, you'll find he's maybe even more affectionate like this!

Cuddles end up the best because now instead of two (sometimes one, if he has the prosthetic off) arms around you, it's six (more like five!) and you are ever-so-tightly squeezed against his body. He also has a very comfortable temperature, so you never have to worry about being too hot or too cold. It's just right!

Purring. Yes, I know it's cliché, I know that it's mentioned in every imagine, but come on. It's so cute. I don't think it's like animal purring, though, maybe more like an engine. Or perhaps more akin to a larger cat purring. Less cutesy, more... well, rumbly. Sometimes it makes his whole body vibrate.

With his extra appendages, he loves to tickle you. Prepare to be bombarded with tickles. He's able to dance across your skin so fast that you can barely catch him in time to try and swat him away.

Kisses! He tries to be so careful with kisses since his jaw can unhinge and all that. And lots of teeth get in the way. But if you don't mind that... Or perhaps, if you're into that... Well, you can definitely start experimenting. But he's still as gentle as possible.

Knives

Now this is someone who's not afraid to show you their true self. Knives is going to quickly reveal his primal form to you. If you can't learn to get comfortable with it, he's obviously not for you. (It begs the question as to why he keeps a more humanoid form too--maybe it's just easier to get around in human-sized spaces with?)

No matter your initial reaction, I think he's going to make some kind of comment. You get scared? Typical human. You like it? Disgusting. You act as utterly neutral as possible? Don't lie to yourself. There's seriously no winning with him.

But with whatever charm (or perhaps sheer persistence) you give, the two of you are a pair now. And if there's one word to describe how he acts with you? It's protective.

If you two are ever out and about, he's got a sharp, bright wing curled over and around you, shielding from peering eyes. On the outside, it's all points and blades (and knives?) but on the inside, only for you to see, there's some softer, more downy feathers. Just so you won't rust up the blades, whatever you say, Knives.

His conscious self isn't keen to showing affection, but his subconscious body sure is. Expect a few tingly vines trying to wrap around and hold your hand, or a tail-like appendage that rests on your waist/shoulders, or a wing tickling your cheek. He swears he isn't doing it intentionally.

Unlike his brother, he's not a super affectionate guy, as stated above, so don't expect much in the way of kisses. Unless the two of you are alone, and he's in a better-than-usual mood. Then his cravings might get the better of him, and he might just tackle on top of you to bite a chunk out of you--I mean, get a few sloppy kisses in.

Overall? In front of others, relatively distant. Behind closed doors? You're becoming his. Tight tendrils keep you close at night, teeth nibble at the nape of your neck, the sharp edges of leaves or feathers tease your skin but never come too close. He's too precise to actually ever hurt you.

End Notes: I think their "true" forms are something akin to an insectoid/angelic/plant-like mix, where it's sort of indescribable, archaic, tangled and messy. Maybe I ought to draw them and show you all...~

Also, there REALLY need to be more 1998 Knives gifs, or I'm about to pony up and just make a buttload of my own.

Okay, last note. Sorry this took me a while! I just moved back into college and my first week was busy! (^人^)

[unbearable-lightness-of-ink]

love this fic but I don't think the authors first language is english and a lot of the sentences are barely comprehensible due to funky syntax and misused synonyms, so I'm just... pasting it into affinity and editing it as I go, for myself, so that after I print and bind it, I can reread it whenever I want without having to reread every third sentence trying to guess what the author means by 'party' in this particular case or whatever

I feel like this is love on the level of 'ate the drawing' but I guess it could be perceived as Bad... I did leave kudos on the fic on ao3 and did not criticise it at all. like it's a damn good plot and I binge read all 100k words of it in a single evening. but also I must be able to reread it without the verb tense mistakes and wrong word usage

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

You left it on a cliffhanger! You can’t do that!!!

But it's so fun! And also, hit 1k!

Here's another 1k!

---

“Maybe you two are up for some company?” Eddie asks.

“YES!” Dove cheers. “Eddie, come over!”

Buck swallows. “We’re always up for your company, Eddie.”

“Okay, cool. Uh… We can bring pizza?” 

“That would be…” It takes Buck a moment to process Eddie’s syntax. “Wait. We?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly. “Yeah, uh… Just got back from El Paso this morning actually.” 

Buck’s heart just about explodes right there on the highway. 

“Holy shit,” he says. 

Dove gasps. 

“Dude.” 

Buck hardly cares. 

“Chris is really home?” He asks. “Right now?”

“He really is,” Eddie confirms. And though the words are simple, Buck can hear the well of emotion in Eddie’s voice.

“O-okay,” Buck responds. “Okay… I’ll… You bring the pizza, and we’ll… I’m going to stop by the bakery and get that cake he likes.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes I do.”

“Buck, no, it’s-”

“I’m doing it,” Buck says, already correcting his course in the Jeep.

He hears Eddie sigh faintly. “Okay. See you in, like, an hour?” 

“Can you make it quicker? We’ll be home in less than thirty?”

“So demanding,” Eddie says. “We can do forty-five.” 

“Perfect,” Buck grins. “That’s perfect. Uh, tell him I love him and I can’t wait to see him?”

“I will,” Eddie replies. “But he knows.” 

Buck is smiling so much it hurts. 

“See you soon, Eddie.”

“Bye, Buck. Bye, Dove.” 

“Bye,” Dove says back.

When they end the call, Buck doesn’t know what to do, other than keep driving towards the bakery. His eyes are stinging. His throat is tight. He knows he’s about to have some sort of emotional scene in front of Dove, and he doesn’t exactly know how to explain it. How much of what happened between Eddie and Chris should he tell her? It’s private and she’s a little kid. And he definitely doesn’t want her thinking that sometimes kids and parents get separated for several months at a time. He would die before sending her to Hershey.

God, come to think of it, they haven’t shown any interest in her at all. Whatever. Not the point. 

“Dad?” She asks, as he expects. “What’s happening? Why are you crying?”

Is he crying? He touches his face with one hand. Yep. He sure is. 

“Uh…” Buck starts, not sure how to best do this. “Well, Eddie’s son, Christopher, who you’re going to meet tonight… He was… He spent a while with his grandparents. And they live far away. So I missed him pretty badly, but he’s home now. So they’re happy tears, Dove. I’m happy he’s home.”

“Eddie’s son?” She asks. 

“Yeah,” Buck confirms. “Christopher. He’s fourteen.”

“Oh,” she replies. 

They’ve mentioned Chris in front of her before. He knows they have, more than once. And there’s a photo of Chris up in the house. Buck might not have sat her down and explained the situation or how much Chris means to him… But that’s mostly because he didn’t want her bringing it up in front of Eddie. Eddie who was in so much pain. 

“You’re going to love him, Dove,” Buck insists. “He’s funny and kind. He’s one of my favorite people in the whole world.”

Dove huffs a little. “Why did he go away for so long?”

And yep. Buck winces. It’s going to be complicated.

“He just wanted to spend time with his grandparents,” Buck lies. “There was a lot going on last spring and he thought some time in Texas might help.”

As close to the truth as he’s willing to get.

“Do I have grandparents?” Dove asks. 

Buck remembers the man who didn’t seem to care that his young daughter had just given birth in their dingy apartment, or that she’d then flushed the baby down a toilet. Yeah. No. 

“Well, my parents live all the way in Pennsylvania,” Buck explains. “So pretty far away. But sometimes they visit, so you might meet them one day.”

He actually isn’t looking forward to that at all. He thinks he’ll bit their heads off if they do a single thing to make her feel bad or lesser than. 

“But,” Buck continues. “I’ve always felt that Bobby is sort of like my dad, too. So if you needed help or-or advice from a grandparent, you should go to him.”

“Bobby,” she repeats. “Okay.”

Good. And if she ever gets pissed at him and runs to Bobby, it’s a fifteen minute drive. 

▪️▪️▪️

Maybe, with hindsight, he’ll think he did not handle Christopher’s arrival at his house that way in the best manner for Dove. But if that’s true, then he can forgive himself. He is completely overcome with emotion. 

Dove’s hair is still damp with pool water by the time the truck pulls into the driveway. Buck practically bounds out of the house towards them, like a dog excited that its people are home after a long day. 

“CHRIS!” He exclaims as the boy climbs out of the front seat. 

He doesn’t even take a second to glance Eddie’s way. All he can see is Chris. 

He’s taller. He’s grown. Of course he has. He looks older in other ways too. More definition to his jaw. Less baby fat in his cheeks. Buck feels a strange mixture of sadness and awe. 

Buck wraps him in a crushing hug. 

“Look at you!” He exclaims. “You’re so tall!”

“Hey, Buck,” Chris manages through being squeezed.

His voice is deeper too. What the hell! Eddie must have lost his mind. 

“I missed you so much,” Buck says. He lets him go, not wanting to suffocate him.

“I missed you, too,” Chris says, a little sheepishly. Like he’s thinking, maybe, about how Buck had little choice in the missing or being missed. 

“None of that,” Buck says very quietly. 

Chris looks up at him. 

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Buck says. 

Has he felt frustrated with Chris? Yes. Does he understand his choices? Also yes. It’s a hard place to be, loving both Eddie and Chris as much as he does.

[wetratman]

@artiificiial

EPIC THE MUSICAL SECRET SANTA! I had so much fun writing this, I hope you enjoy :) happy holidays

We would not be sleeping tonight.

Branches grew verdant as peace offerings denied and the blessings of a goddess. Penelope had latched the shutters tight to block out the scent and sound of the sea, the ebbs and flows and thudding of ships at the docks. You’ll have enough of sailing tomorrow, she’d said, and, now, we have only this night together.

And what of the night after? The endless progression of days, on the ship and at Troy, without her, without her strong weaver’s hands in mind and the way laurels smelled like victory perfumed across her skin and the easy familiarity with which we shared breaths and brushed shoulders, a thousand little gestures in a syntax nobody else quite understood. I rested my temple against her head as I had a thousand times, and it felt like the final recitation of an oft-rehearsed motion, the crescendo before the fall, voice breaking. My wife’s finite heartbeats roared frantic in my ear, even as she stared stone-faced forward. Our son lay in my arms, sleeping; I imagined that Telemachus would resemble his mother in a few years. Already, he sported wisps of her black hair, though his eyes had darkened since his birth months before.

When - if - I returned, would she be here, waiting for me? Why should she? We both knew the prophecy I’d received from the oracle: my return would be delayed, if I ever did make it home. Secretly, I feared it might’ve been better if she could move on swiftly, as painlessly as possible. Not that I’d ever manage such a feat.

Penelope’s breath clicked as she opened her mouth. No words came out.

“Love?” I asked, shifting the infant sleeping in my arms. “What’s on your mind?”

She gave a soft, dry laugh that echoed from her skull to mine. “You know what’s on my mind.”

As I cupped my hand to cradle Telemachus’ head more securely, I ran the other through her unbound hair. “Indulge me, then? I want to hear it from you.” I’d listen to anything she said, whatever let me hang onto her clear, high, sweetly articulate voice a moment longer. I would’ve savored a reproach if it came from her mouth. There was no need to desperately memorize the sound, though, as if I hadn’t long before. How would it change by the time I’d return in, what, five, ten years? (If I returned)

My wife hesitated, lips just parted, granting me an opportunity to crane my neck and kiss her, quick and light. “Tell me,” I urged. “It’s clearly troubling you, Love.”

A bit more gently, hand on her cheek: “You know there’s nothing to fear.”

“I just wanted to apologize,” Penelope whispered. “For all of this.”

Her knit brow cut deep shadows over her eyes in the lamplight. I pulled our faces apart just enough to fully see my wife, my beautiful, thoughtful, dearest one. “What is there to be sorry for? You haven’t done a thing wrong, I promise you.”

As quiet as she was, Penelope never wasted words when she had something to say: “You’re only going to Troy because of the oath you swore to win my hand. If not for our marriage, you’d be free to stay home and safe.”

I sighed. That was what there was about? Years before, I’d traveled to Sparta to ask for Helen’s hand in marriage - apparently, the most beautiful woman in the world, though I, of course, was confident that Penelope was the real owner of the title. It wasn’t long before I became smitten with Helen’s cousin, the daughter of a Spartan prince and water nymph. I’d stopped at nothing to win Penelope’s hand in marriage.

Shifting Telemachus onto the bed, (he cooed but didn’t wake) I cupped her face. “Please, Love, don’t think that. If not for our marriage, this would be no home of mine.”

“Well, then, I have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

Penelope did not hesitate to cut to the heart of the matter. “Had you known what our marriage would cost you, would you have still asked for my hand?”

I couldn’t help a peal of laughter. Was that even a question? Nobody doubted our devotion to one another. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Penelope smiled back, the anxious crease in her forehead relaxing. “Indulge me, then? I want to hear it from you,” she echoed.

“Well, we both know I have no problem with that,” I said ruefully, turning to fully face my wife. Our hands met, fingers entwining automatically, comfortably; her calloused fingertips brushed against my knuckles. “I would fall in love with you again.”

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Hollow Men

Part 1, part 2

Part three of The Way the Stars Love the Heavens series.

Contains: Fluff, slow burn, unresolved feelings, angst, violence, blood, death, a cliffhanger. Not beta read, likely full of mistakes.

Follow #the way the stars love the heavens for updates

2.9K words

This is the way the world ends

You stood in the briefing room with all eyes on you, and Price had a smile a mile wide on his face. Your translations were front and centre, and your laptop, which someone must have collected from your office, was open on the table. Price nodded a greeting to everyone as they walked in, then gestured towards you. "The boys gave me the rundown but I want to hear it right from you."

You blinked, unsure of what he was talking about. "It's all in the files sir, I'm not quite sure what more I can offer." There was that look from Ghost again, the same one he gave you when you stopped yourself from telling them about the American theory.

Price nodded. "We all know how thorough your work is y/n, that's not the issue here. I want to hear what you think, not want you know."

You took a deep breath, there was no point in protesting again. "He's in his late thirties to early forties, from the south and highly educated, but it came late, my guess is in the military. He acts like he likes the person he's talking to but he doesn't and judging by the last few communications, he's planning something big." 

Price reached into his vest and pulled a memory card out. "So far, all your translations have been from text right?" You nodded, and he continued. "How long would it take you to translate a disguised voice?" 

He handed you the card and you understood what he was asking. "A few seconds, I wouldn't even need to do anything, there's software that will clean it." You placed the card into your laptop and started the programs, and a stillness fell over the room as it worked through the file. 

The speakers popped to life, and a voice came through them. "Yeah, yeah, I get you. But now that it's done, I'm not going to be his bitch boy anymore." 

"You were right, love." Ghost turned to the group, his eyes hard and filled with anger. "That's Graves." 

Soap had told you everything that went down in Las Alams, you knew this was serious. "Umm, I'm going to go, I'm probably just going to get in the way now." 

"You'll stay right where you are." The only time Ghost had been that curt with you was the first time you met, and it lasted a total of two hours. "Who do you think he's talking to?" 

You thought for a moment, going back over all his conversations in your head. "I think it's someone on the outside, someone he complains to. And I think the person he's referring to is now very dead or about to be." 

You were waiting for the blow up, for someone to finally crack and for the rage to pour free. After everything they went through, you could only imagine how they felt. 

"I need to contact Los Vaqueros and let them know that Las Almas might be in danger." You understood why Alejandro was so upset, after the dust settled with Hassan, the 141 returned to Las Almas to finally stamp out the cartel. Alejandro and Rudy only agreed to join now because they knew their home was safe. 

Price nodded. "Go, we'll send some axillary men. We don't want you and Rudy to go home just yet." He swallowed and turned back to you. "Is there anything else you can tell us? I don't care how small it is."

You took a deep breath, you weren't used to being this important. "I know he's planning something. At first, he seemed unsure of himself, like he was figuring everything out but after a while, that went away. It would take me hours to explain word choice and syntax and punctuation, it might be time you don't have."

"Then you better talk fast because we need to know whatever's in your brain." For the first time, you wished Ghost didn't have so much faith in you.

****

They never interrupted, but the questions came thick and fast, and the more they learned, the more complex the questions got. It felt like you were teaching them linguistics and psychology all at once. But the room got tenser the more you talked, and there was clearly something they were understanding that you weren't. By the time you were done, they all looked ready to kill.

"I'm going to take all of this to Laswell, you should be ready to roll out at a moment's notice." Price's tone was short, you had no idea what was going on, and he left in such a hurry that you knew something was wrong.

"Did I do something wrong? Please tell me I didn't neglect to tell you something important?" Your thoughts started to race, something very serious was going on.

Soap shook his head. "No doll, you didn't. You've been a big help, really." When he saw that his words brought you no comfort, he kept going. "You wouldn't have known the stuff you told us was important unless you had worked with Graves. Really, y/n, you're a lifesaver."

You breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Oh thank God, I was really starting to like this job."

The room let out a chuckle and everyone started to pile out, just as you crossed the threshold, Ghost turned to you and stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. "I'm posting men outside your office and dorm when we're not here and I don't want you taking your morning walk alone anymore." His tone left no room for argument.

"Am I in danger?" It was the last place you'd expect to be at risk, despite the circumstances, you had always felt safe on base.

He shook his head. "No, but I just want to make sure. Graves is a bad man and if he thinks you helping us will end him, he will do anything to stop that." You understood what he was saying, trust no one. "I'll assign them personally, you don't need to worry about that." 

You nodded. "Ok then. Thank you for listening to me today, it really means the world to me that you guys think what I have to say matters." 

You could see the smile in his eyes as he reached up to brush your cheek with the back of his hand. "We'll pick up that other conversation, love, I just gotta deal with this first." 

You truly hoped whatever they were doing wouldn't take long, you might explode if you had to wait any longer to tell him the truth about how you felt about him. "I'd like that." 

****

The base was a rush for hours before you saw Ghost again and when he knocked on your office door, he wasn't alone.

"Y/n, this is Denise Peters and Arin Moss. Moss will be on the day shift and Peters will be on the night shift. You do not leave their sight." It was a small base and you had talked to both of them before, they both seemed alright. Peters was a little too arrogant for your tastes, but none of that mattered, if Ghost trusted them, so did you.

You nodded. "Alright. Maybe it will be good to have an extra pair of hands."

He smiled, waved them away and closed the door before sitting on the corner of your desk. "I think we have something to talk about love?" He paused and reached up, pulling his mask free as he leaned in close. His umber eyes looked over your face, and you placed a hand on his cheek as he brought his hand up so he could stoke your face.

You were too caught up in the moment to utter the words, he already knew anyway, he made that much clear every time he looked at you. "We do."

You leaned in closer, resting your forehead on his as you brushed his nose with yours. Your lips touched in a barely there graze and his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck as he shifted to pull you closer. You were stuck between confessing and finally kissing him but it seemed Simon had made up his mind because your lips brushed again as he went to speak. "Y/n, love. I love.."

"Ghost wheels up in ten." You glared at the flung open door, Price was standing there stock still, staring at both of you, his eyes going back and forth as he figured out what to do.

Simon had pulled away from you and was pulling his mask back over his face when you lost it. "You have the worst fucking timing known to man, did you know that?"

He nodded and glanced at the floor. "It seems so." His face fell and he gave you an apologetic look. "There's no time to continue your conversation, I'm sorry."

He left and Ghost followed, his hand lingering in yours as he went. "I'll be back soon love."

You nodded. "Yeah, be safe." You daren't say the words, it felt like bad luck.

****

It had been three long days since they left, with only a few words over the radio since and to say you were over it was an understatement. Arin Moss was a jovial young man who could talk for hours, he made Simon being away easy. But Peters was only just tolerable, he kept his distance and spoke when spoken to, which got lonely after a while, no one wants to feel like their company is a chore. Despite everything, you understood why Simon assigned him to you, he picked up on every detail, and you never needed to tell him something twice.

Tonight was no different, you were in the small kitchen getting a snack while he stood against the wall eating an apple and you must have said two words to each other since he started his shift. "You seem busy tonight?"

You blinked away your shock and nodded. "Yeah, I'm working on an old stone tablet, I tend to get lost in the dusty stuff."

He let out a single laugh. "Why didn't you go into archaeology?" The sudden interest in you felt strange but there was no one else to talk to, the 141 section of the base was always quiet.

You snorted. "I have a PhD in it, I'm just better with languages." Had it been one of the guys who had asked, you would have given more detail but something told you Peters wasn't interested in an explanation.

"Wow. You're a smart women, I can see why Ghost likes you so much." That struck you as odd, he normally worked in another building and unlike most bases, there wasn't a lot of gossip going around. 

You took your grilled cheese out of the sandwich press and turned it off before offering him half, along with a question. "What makes you say that?" 

He flashed you a slight smile. "He's put two men on you to keep you safe, he wouldn't do that if he didn't care about you." 

You nodded. "I guess you're...." 

BANG BANG BANG 

"What the hell was that?" He looked around and handed you back the plate. "I don't know but I'm going to go see what it was. Stay here." 

He ran off and you went to sit down and eat but before you pulled out your chair, there was another bang, louder this time, then alarms started to go off. 

The base was under attack. 

The chuff chuff of a helicopter sounded overhead and your heart started to race, and the air was filled with the sound of gunshots. Another bang, this one had you getting up and to shut and lock the door, it sounded like a door close by had just been broken open. Then more shooting and men yelling, it was getting closer and closer. 

The guys had told you what to do if this ever happened, grab the closest weapon and use it on anyone you didn't recognise, so that's what you did. You went to the draw and, grabbed the longest knife you could find and waited. It didn't take long, the light flickered and you saw men rushing by in the door's small glass window before the lights went out and you were bathed in almost darkness that made it hard to see anything. 

You protested at first when the 141 wanted you to join them while they trained, you had to meet basic firearms and hand to hand proficiency to work on the base, you could look after yourself. But right now, crouched behind the door frame, ready to stab the first person through the door, you were grateful they had insisted. 

There was no call out as the footsteps got closer and you knew what was coming, the handle twisted and the door opened and you lunged. You topped your class in Biology, you didn't need anyone to tell you where to aim the knife. The feeling was strange as the knife went into his neck, hard and soft all at once. He made a strange sound and you shoved him away from you, the blade staying in your hand as he fell. 

Your eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and you looked down at the man, he was reaching for his gun but his hands were failing him and with one more beat of his heart, he was dead. The adrenaline racing through your veins made it hard to feel anything but the urge to run but you were aware of the wet metallic stickiness that was clinging to parts of you. 

There were more gunshots, the muzzle flashes lighting up the hallway as they went off. You went over to the body and grabbed what you could, his custom helmet and vest were out of the question but his crackling radio would at least help if more were coming, so would his gun. 

You had to get out of the kitchen and walking through the door wasn't an option, neither was waiting but you didn't have the chance to think because another round of gunshots went off and then there was another flash of movement in the hallway and the dead body in the room had stolen the element of surprise. 

You didn't get the chance to raise the gun before you were bodyslammed into the kitchen counter. "You struggle and I hurt you." You didn't listen and a swift kick to his groin had him going limp and doubling over. You thought fast and grabbed the sandwich press before swinging it down onto the unprotected back of his neck. 

You threw the appliance down on his back and took your only option and ran, but he had recovered and yanked your ankle hard, you managed to grab the edge of the table to soften your way down. He pulled himself towards you as you tried to pull yourself away but it was too late and he was pissed. "I told you I hurt.." 

BANG

Someone grabbed the back of your shirt as the body fell on top of you and pulled you up, it was Peters. He looked at the other body on the floor and gave you a nod. "Good fucking work." He listened to his cracking radio and looked around. "We need to go now."

You nodded. "If you can get me to my office I can get us out, there's an old service door behind the shelves."

He placed a hand on your shoulder and all but pushed you out the door. "I think I can but you stay behind me, and if I'm shooting at something, you shoot too."

It felt strange to accept that so readily, killing was easier than you thought it would be. You had made it halfway down the hall before it started away, it was hard to suppress the urge to duck as the shooting roared behind you, even more so when Peters shot a man who popped up out of a connecting hallway in your path.

There were bodies everywhere, both sides, and it struck you as strange that you were almost at your door with only one encounter. "What's going on?"

He didn't glance back. "What do you think. We're almost there."

You didn't relax when you reached your office, even as he cleared the room so you could go inside. You ran over to the shelving and he helped you push it aside. A few hard pushes on the door got it open and he pointed his gun down the tunnel as he looked both ways before waving you in.

There was even less light here, and Peters' flashlight and the one you had taken from the dead man only did so much. The door shutting didn't give you any relief, they had to have had the blueprints and it was only a matter of time before they came looking. For a moment, your thoughts drifted to Simon, you hoped he was on his way back here but deep down, you knew that communication would have been the first thing they took out.

Your mind raced to find something that told you who these men were but there was nothing, the dead man's uniform and the bodies around the hallways didn't have any patches on their vests, just grenades and magazines.

You paused in the hallway and looked at to the door as your blood ran cold. "What is it?"

You swallowed, you hoped your lie was convincing. "Nothing, I'm just worried about the guys."

The clicking of a holster told you he didn't buy it.

"What gave me away?"

Part 4

@chaos-4baby

[royal-chandler]

Hi! For the ficlet prompt, my three words are:

wine, tremble, lazy

🩷

Thank you for the prompt! I hope this is to your liking! ♥️

---

In March, they steal away to Paris. 

That’s the romantic narration of it, anyway. In reality, Alex had given the law firm months' notice of his plans to use up his vacation time on his and Henry’s birthdays and then worked practically non-stop until the day of their flight, weekends included. Henry’s first draft of his novel was sent to his editor via email while their plane smoked on the tarmac, also having predominantly spent the majority of the lead-up to their hop across the Atlantic working heavily, splitting his time between his office and the youth shelter. 

They mimed passing ships in the night during those closing weeks—college-try handjobs in their morning showers, a conveyor belt of a la carte lunches and takeout dinners, and catch-up conversations that sped into snores under their blankets, against the kitchen island, and in front of the muted tv.  

At one embarrassingly low point, Alex had sluggishly hiked the steps of the brownstone, lost a battle with his set of keys, and called Henry to let him in because something was wrong with the lock. Stepping outside of the neighboring door, phone still pressed to his ear, Henry had laughed that their locks were actually just fine. 

All worth it, Alex decides, living to tell the tale and look over the cinematic heart of the city—the crowd of rooftops and warm shades of gold dotted from the streetlamps all the way to the Eiffel Tower—from his seat on their terrace as music spills from the hotel room.

A deviation from restaurant reservations and room service and at Henry’s insistence, it’s a Parisian picnic tonight. Alex doesn’t know how or when Henry had gotten it done, now that they’re in each other's pockets again but it’s a postcard setting. The round table is draped with the classic checkered cloth and topped with candles and a decanter of wine, and there’s an assortment of fresh breads, cheeses, fruits, and meats—including the chicken mousse that the Texan in Alex really hadn't wanted to like but is shamefully into.

He’s spreading it thick onto another pinch of bread when Henry comments, amused, “We’ll need to make some extra room in your suitcase to accommodate bringing a case of that back home.”

“Ugh yes,” Alex agrees, popping the bread in his mouth. Once he’s swallowed, he tacks on, “But we’ll have to hide it deep in our cabinets. Like not easily visible to our guests. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Think you're safe there,” Henry replies, rolling his eyes but his tone rings nothing less than charmed. “I truly doubt that anyone aside from you has ever uttered the words ‘a meat has no validity unless you can throw barbecue sauce on it.’”

“Okay, I’ll grant you maybe not in that exact syntax but the sentiment is out there. Trust me,” Alex insists before a sip of the wine he also wants to smuggle back to the States. 

Every single thing Henry has picked out for the night has been divine but Alex is most appreciative of the picture across from him. Henry is an academic stunner in his sweater, a soft earthy green that he fills out so perfectly with his broad shoulders and curved arms it’ll almost be a travesty when Alex hauls it off of him later. His hair is grown out and dark, partially swept back and behind an ear that’s now pierced with a circle of silver. Best of everything fucking wonderful, there's pretty crescent moons around Henry's mouth that rival the full one hanging above them.

“Whatever you say, love,” Henry says with his grin after waiting out Alex’s intake of him, wise to Alex as always.

“Whatever you say, love,” Alex parrots back, a second nature refrain. “Ooh speaking of, tomorrow’s your day, baby. Was there anything you had in mind?”

There’s a poignant change in Henry’s expression, his mouth so ready-set-go that Alex expects him to name drop another book store or museum with specific pursuits for wherever they go, to unburden an impassioned lecture on a literary figure or regale Alex with the lengthy history behind a painting they have to see and study. 

What Alex doesn’t expect is for Henry to come to his side and take a careful knee, to pull a square jewelry box from its hiding place in Henry’s pants pocket and for Henry’s hand to slightly tremble as it flips the box open before holding it out.

Alex doesn’t expect the gorgeous band of gold that shines in candle light and rings around his heart, claiming it.

“I’d love to enjoy the entire day with my fiancé if he would abide?” Henry offers simply.

“Yes,” Alex says, sure and within so slim a breath, his answer is merely a punctuation on Henry’s question.

Alex makes surprise wait until the ring has slipped on his finger, until he’s kissed Henry with the intent to do so for the rest of his life, until he’s got Henry underneath him and around him in their bed—lazy with love and then impatient with it. There, Alex will let surprise meet and then yield to the knowledge that tomorrow he’ll have a proposal of his own.

[horizon-verizon]

It’s funny to see some delusional Stannis’ stans pretending that he wouldn’t murder Myrcella and Tommen.

Stannis means Myrcella and Tommen will be executed as part of his “scouring” of the court. Their mere existence is perceived as a sin. GRRM uses the word “abomination” for a reason. It’s lost so much of its power in today’s society, but it means the worst possible thing, something that’s a horror, something that goes against nature, something that shouldn’t be allowed to exist. Abomination = not worthy of life.

“Joffrey is not my brother’s seed,” Stannis said bluntly. “Nor is Tommen. They are bastards. The girl as well. All three of them abominations born of incest.” –ACOK, Catelyn III

The Lannister woman gave him horns and made a motley fool of him. She may have murdered him as well, as she murdered Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. For such crimes there must be justice. Starting with Cersei and her abominations. But only starting. I mean to scour that court clean.” –Stannis, ASOS, Davos IV

“Traitors have always paid with their lives. […] It is law. Law, Davos. Not cruelty.” –Stannis, ASOS, Davos IV

Stannis here refers to Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen as crimes. For which there must be justice. He follows it up by talking about scouring the court clean. He means to murder Cersei’s children, given the chance. He tried to sacrifice his own nephew, Edric Storm only survived because Davos acted behind Stannis’ back and smuggled Edric away. There’s no way in hell he’d let “bastards” born of incest and adultery live.

NOW, here’s a queen consort who actually have legitimate reasons to fear for her children’s lives....

Aside from liking how his character presents the conflict that is in hypocrisy and being sexist, I never understood the allure or hype for Stannis. I even understand Robert's stans, at least Robert had some amount of humor or charm or provided some funny lines.

And yes, 100%, anon. It's pretty in your face. And I don''t think modern people "don't know" the implications of when people use the word "abomination" bc we still will use this word for the exact meaning. People just love to be contrarian to the pressure to practice accountability or be bothered in acting out the process of understanding others' boundaries. Stannis is a rules man....but if it works for him. So no one can be really "safe" with him unless you manage to be able to shift "perfect" obedience to whatever value system he has in his moments when you have to.

So people will pretend that the implications of words and the spacing, syntax, vocab don't mean what they imply to mean or likely do bc it makes it easier for them to not be subject to the processes of being held accountable.

[fullstackonion]

Still Looks A Lot Like Love

Evening Musings June 12, 2025 · 5:57 PM

It’s almost 6 in the evening and I meant to post this sometime around midday—but as it always goes, things came up. Good things, though. And before this day ends, I just wanted to put this one out there. Maybe one more will follow before I go to bed tonight.

Today was a good day. A day well spent. Thank God for legal holidays and long weekends. Truly, sometimes we forget how vital it is to enjoy the little things in life—the ones that bring peace without asking for anything in return.

It’s nice to sit in front of a computer and not have to write in code. Not PHP, not JavaScript, not HTML, not even Python. To not worry whether the syntax will work, whether the logic is sound, or if something’s breaking where it shouldn’t. It’s just nice... not to think about work.

Just to type—whatever the brain needs to let go of.

Funny how, even though I haven’t done this in years, it’s like I never left. Fandom has always kept me afloat. But this—this is the one where I had to learn to come back to myself. To write just because the words sound good together. Because a photo or a drawing makes something stir in the chest and the only way to soothe it is to shape it into story.

It’s freeing. To not think: How do I fix this program? To not wonder: Why isn’t this running? To not hear the nagging: It’s not working the way it should.

No. Today, I got a breather.

Usually, that breather is on my Instagram—through photographs and short captions, little visual stories that people can read however they like. But this is something else entirely. And I’m thankful for it too.

Anyway—I'm rambling.

I created this post because I felt like the morning arc needed a companion. And knowing me, this one will have a companion too. Sometimes I really hate how my brain works in pieces. It never settles. It never says, “That’s enough.” It always asks, “And then what?”

Still, here we are.

I found something really cute. And since this little corner of the internet is my diary now, I’m posting it here. To those of you reading—thank you. If you find anything here worth taking, please take it. I don’t mind at all.

So anyway— Here it goes. :) Also—just a note: the images I’ve posted along with this entry are how I imagine Aldo would look in the moment. Thoughtful. Quiet. On the brink of something soft and world-changing. They helped the story form in my head. Somewhere Quieter

The door clicked shut behind him.

Aldo stood in the soft dark of his apartment, the hush of evening still clinging to his coat. He didn’t move for a long moment. Just breathed—slow, careful—as though any sudden motion might undo the fragile echo of what had just happened.

He touched his lips. Twice.

The elevator had already descended. Goffredo was gone. But the feeling lingered, like warmth left in a chair just vacated, or the scent of coffee long after the cup had been emptied.

He took off his coat and laid it gently over the back of the chair. Sat. Let the silence swell around him.

And then—almost involuntarily—he began to wonder.

How had it begun?

Not the kiss. Not even the dinner. No, it began somewhere earlier, quieter. Less pronounced. The sort of moment you don’t notice until it’s already changed something.

Aldo remembered the café.

Just a few days after the conclave. Rome still bristled with whispers and fresh judgments. The marble corridors hadn’t yet settled. Everyone was watching everyone—still guessing who had hoped for what.

He’d gone to a small café tucked beside a bookseller, a place with almond pastries and poor lighting and exactly the kind of solitude he needed. He was reading something—not for work, for once. A biography. He’d made it halfway through his espresso when the seat across from him scraped back.

Goffredo.

Wearing an ivory suit, of all things. Baby-blue shirt, slightly wrinkled at the sleeves. No cassock. Just a man. A man carrying a small box of persicata—the kind of peach-sugar sweet no one ever admits to liking but everyone secretly does.

“I remembered you liked these,” Goffredo said, setting the box down between them.

“I didn’t know I’d said that.”

“You didn’t.”

A pause.

“You always take the ones from the snack table,” Goffredo added. “Even when they’re too sweet.”

Aldo had blinked at him, unsure whether to be annoyed or oddly touched.

Goffredo ordered a macchiato. Stayed.

No speeches. No posturing. No apologies, either—just... presence. Uncloaked. Quiet.

“After all that,” Aldo had said at last, gesturing vaguely, “I thought we might go back to pretending the other didn’t exist.”

Goffredo had tilted his head. “We could. But I think I’ve grown tired of pretending.”

They hadn’t become friends overnight. They didn’t become anything, really. But after that afternoon, they kept running into each other. At meetings. In the corridors. On accident, then on purpose.

Small things changed. Goffredo stopped cutting into Aldo’s points during debates. Aldo started leaving memos with room for replies. One afternoon, he caught Goffredo holding the door for him a little too long. Another time, Goffredo found an annotated article left on his desk—with Aldo’s handwriting in the margins.

Eventually, they shared coffee. Then lunches. Sometimes walks.

The friendship, when it came, arrived quietly.

Aldo remembered one late afternoon in the library—just the two of them and the distant tapping of a rainstorm against the stained-glass windows. Goffredo had asked, not unkindly, “When did you stop hating me?”

Aldo had shrugged. “I don’t know. When did you stop being insufferable?”

They’d both smiled. It had been easy, for once.

And then, one morning, over breakfast in the refectory, Aldo told Thomas, Raymond, and Giulio—offhandedly, almost as an afterthought—that he’d been “spending time” with Goffredo.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Spending time as in... diplomacy?”

Raymond had grinned behind his coffee. Giulio only hummed knowingly and stabbed a boiled egg.

“It’s not like that,” Aldo insisted.

“It’s never like that,” Giulio replied. “Until it is.”

Aldo had laughed them off. But he remembered how warm his face felt.

And now, tonight—after the kiss—he wondered if they had all known before he did.

The warmth had never left.

Aldo leaned back in his chair now, in his quiet apartment, letting the memories fade into stillness again. On the table in front of him sat a small, unopened box of persicata. He didn’t know when Goffredo had left it there.

He smiled.

And for the first time in years, Aldo felt like he was at the beginning of something—not grand, not inevitable, but real.

Something he could choose.

And maybe, just maybe, something that had already chosen him.

[pokespefangirl]

✨ writing advice from virginia woolf

"After all, the years from twenty to thirty are years (let me refer to your letter again) of emotional excitement. The rain dripping, a wing flashing, someone passing—the commonest sounds and sights have power to fling one, as I seem to remember, from the heights of rapture to the depths of despair. And if the actual life is thus extreme, the visionary life should be free to follow. Write then, now that you are young, nonsense by the ream. Be silly, be sentimental, imitate Shelley, imitate Samuel Smiles; give the rein to every impulse; commit every fault of style, grammar, taste, and syntax; pour out; tumble over; loose anger, love, satire, in whatever words you can catch, coerce or create, in whatever metre, prose, poetry, or gibberish that comes to hand. Thus you will learn to write. But if you publish, your freedom will be checked; you will be thinking what people will say; you will write for others when you ought only to be writing for yourself."

[castlebyersafterdark]

I even heard an irl casual fan who is super knowledgeable about film

interesting! i guess mistakes do happen in moviemaking. idk why i never believed it though. i just think that even as an amateur writer myself, the idea that professional writers would forget such an important character detail as a birthday makes them seem very dumb. but the fact that will's specifically is stated in the show??? explicitly??? and also the spring break setting of s4 itself lands on his birthday??? come on man. you'd have to be literally a dumbass to make that mistake as a filmmaker. i think fans need to trust their own guts more and stop listening to what other people say is true.

actually that goes for all situations not just fandom lol

actually maybe the reason i didnt believe it was because anti-bylers were SO happy about it. the fact that they grabbed on to that nugget of info just made me narrow my eyes even further lol

Varied thoughts on Birthdaygate 🎂🎉🎁🥳

There's a few schools of thought with this topic. One is that there's a desperate hope that a show of this budget and the size would have continuity contingencies and fact checkers in place for details. And Will's birthday is the only named birthday in the show, right? So do they then arbitrarily pick a date for Spring break and oops, then it's utterly forgotten in canon by the characters with reason or not acknowledged and it makes you wonder as a fan who cares about details.

And then they give their goofy little interview where upon whatever number of readings, does feel very, very telling and pointed / sarcastic, but I do think in a way, we can't really fault people who read interviews like that at face value, because yeah, we're discussing the sarcasm, but not everyone is looking for it or great at detecting it.

Not everyone interprets what the creators are saying looking for lies and veiled answers, though we really should tbh, and we shouldn't assume everything in any article is face value, when words are twisted purposely. It's kind of a double edge thing where I'm being supportive to either side of this whole issue here. Diplomatic, you know.

In general, it's hard to just put blind trust into every little aspect of a show, even one we adore. It's a TV show. We love it. We're obsessed with it, but it's not without flaw. And this flaw? Could be disappointing. But, realistically this kind of stuff does get missed in some of the biggest movies out there. I mean, look at the goddamn new Star Wars movies. These things are infested with obvious continuity issues. And it frustrates me to know that, and - I'll talk for a year about it I need to stop getting riled up about SW.

Anyway, it could be not wanting to give away all their secrets, they're going to lie and of course, it could seem obvious because they have to lie and we know they're lying so I don't know, I'm very much rambling, I think we can tell that this one was talk to text, I'm gonna go back and edit for grammar and syntax so I hope it all makes sense.

Though... more. My thoughts about birthday gate are vague theories. Does anybody have any good posts to read up on the hidden / forgotten birthday theory? What are yalls thoughts on what it means for season 5 cause that's all well and dandy, saying that something was happening in the plot, like maybe suppressing Will's memories, the memories of everybody out west. But how and why? How and why did influence reach that far on the other side of the country? What do we think that means for the show, that's what kind of stumps me. What is the reason other than further getting Will isolated and sad. But there are a lot of ways to do that. And then, combined with the anniversary of the Creel murders. What do we think?

[quitealotofsodapop]

I'm just curious, what's your headcannons about the sexualities of the LMK crew? I know you have a post about your ideas about their gender identities and I know that you mentioned that Wukong is ace (in a Celestial NATO post)? So if you're okay talking about it what are the others? (The babies are not included. I find it annoying when people push little kids/toddlers/babies being boyfriend & girlfriend because of hetero normality. Cis people are weird. Sorry for the rant.)

For the LMK versions of the characters specifically:

Sun Wukong: Asexual/Demi-romantic. If you're not Macaque, keep walking.

Macaque: Bisexual/Biromantic. Loves whatever config Wukong has on at present.

Pigsy: Bisexual. This man has been canonically attracted to a spider woman, and a man who turned out to be a cicada. He has a type.

Tang: Gay. Men hot. Specifically strong ones that know how to cook. ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° )

Sandy: Asexual/Homoromantic. Doesnt understand why he's considered "the hot one" of the gang. Has have any flirting spelled out to him.

MK: Gay/Demiromantic. Romantically attracted only to people he has forged deep bonds with in battle (preference for men/a certain fire demon).

Mei: Lesbian/Aromantic. Girls hot. Romance hard. Details in bio.

Red Son: Pansexual/Panromantic. Why worry about the gender of their probable mate, when they could judge them based on their power?

Nezha: "Get out of my room!" Likes guys.

PIF: Pansexual. Canonically attracted to power.

DBK: Bisexual. He be making eyes at Azure back in the day until PIF came on the scene.

Spider Queen: Bisexual/Homoromantic.

Syntax: Pansexual. Really doesn't care about the gender of his potiential partners, but you wouldn't know it from his lack of swag.

Huntsman: Gay. Specifically for a dense asexual river demon.

Goliath/Strong Spider: Ace. Thinks romance and stuff is just little too complicated/messy for them.

Spindrax: Lesbian. Like loudly so. Has a million different flags and vest patches.

LBD: Doesn't care. Destruction and Destiny first.

The Mayor: Straight but is on thin ice.

Scorpion Demoness: Panromantic. Is romantically attracted to pretty much anyone. Please give her kisses.

Tripitaka: AroAce. Didn't know that there was words for their sexuality until Tang started contacting them via meditation/possession - they just thought they were nailing this celibacy thing.

Zhu Bajie: Bisexual. Used to think he was straight as his rake until he saw some very pretty dudes while on the pilgrimage.

Sha Wujing: Asexual. Wasn't even included in Guanyin's catfishing (pun) chapter cus she knew it would be lost on him.

Ao Lie: Questioning. He never really thought about it? Guys hot maybe??

Azure Lion: Demisexual. One of the reasons he fixated on SWK back in the day was cus he was so unused to feeling "like that" that he figured that his interests would solely be on SWK for all time.

Peng: Bisexual. Men hot, women hot, them hot. Whats not to love?

Yellowtusk: Ace. Continuing to stay tf out of the Brotherhood's romance problems.

Erlang Shen: Closeted Gay. Running from his gay thoughts like that one Family Guy clip.

A bunch of characters are more detailed than others based on the vibes I get/fave interpetations from others.

[writing-in-sin]

Movie!Adrien HC: Writer as a career

I've been going back and forth in trying to think on what kind of career Adrien would want, especially that would nurture his Destruction. Recently, I've also added football striker and writer to the list of possibilities and while I'd want to see him be a part of the football team, I think a writer and linguist would suit him quite well

The first time we saw Adrien in the movie, he was in the library. I've always thought that he's a bibliophile in the movie because of that. Which is why I went 'huh, there's a thought' yknow?

Anyways, he'd be a versatile writer, writing whatever he wants in whatever form he wants it to be. Whether its short stories, entries, poems, lyrics, scripts or even full length novels, he writes them.

His words are rich and empathic. His style tears down prejudices and tropes. It always makes people think and forces them out of their comfort zones. He especially enjoys writing about themes that destroy presumptions and prejudices. It changes how people think, and he's not shy to confront harmful issues in his writings

Adrien's got zero tolerance for bullshit and refuses to write things that cater to the masses' harmful whims. In fact, he takes unholy glee in destroying themes and tropes that would romanticize or normalised harmful beliefs and actions even if it caused a number of outcries or controversies

(Not a lot of people knows this, but Adrien has a sadistic streak when it comes to destroying bigoted readers or critics. Or just bullshit in general)

When Nino achieved his dream in being a movie director, Adrien tends to be his first choice as the main scriptwriter. Now you can imagine the chaos these 2 best friends unleashes whenever a new movie comes out. While Nino would puff out his chest, proud for another job well done, Adrien would always have the biggest shit-eating Cheshire grin

As he grows as a writer, it becomes apparent that while its normal for writers to world build, Adrien does the exact opposite. He destroys worlds and structures, reshaping it into however he wants it. His writing style especially when it comes his novels is similar to Alice in Wonderland.

A nonsensical writing style to be more specific

For the most part, his books are written in simple language that most readers can understand. Most sentences are relatively short and straightforward. However, despite the use of simple syntax and short sentences, the style of his books is cheeky, charming and full of mischief. Plays on words, puns (so much PUNS), homophone confusion, and metaphors has since become Adrien's signature style.

The chapters for any of his books are all over the place and yet, there's always a level of intuitive logic to his insanity. Readers can randomly open any chapter within his books and would always be surprised on how they can still follow the story despite Adrien destroying worlds and any semblance of structure within it

His loved ones, especially Marinette, always end up getting immersed in Adrien's destructive, nonsensical writing which Adrien never passes up to tease her about

That's not to say that's the only way he writes. His works are always charming and heartfelt, earnest with every written word.

Adrien writes letters to his parents, burns them for Emelie in hopes that she'd received them. He collaborates writing scripts with Nino for his movies and becomes a trusted editor for Alya whenever they fact check an article together

and of course, he writes the sweetest, dorkiest things for Marinette. from sticky notes full of puns and compliments to romantic poems and lyrics (see 'My Lady' and 'Stronger Together'), you name it, he's done it for his beloved

So yeah, I think being a writer is something Adrien would really enjoy