#Since there no loop outside of their point of view.

[insomniakingdoom]

OG Loop encounter my AU Loop lol

Just a quick doodle I made. It started as a simple "AU where Loop pester Siffrin until he beat the king first try" and devolved into "AU where Loop is the one looping and don't know why they're the only one in this situation"

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Hello there sagau brain rot like in many sagau versions reader/creator are often to soft to kind to my taste and then Idea comes to my head what if creator reader shows his cruler uncaring side to the pepole he truly hates or thinks deserve thier wrath like I can image that in place of raiden shogun the creator kills Singniora after begin defeated by traveler, azar the grand sage after whole begin in that day loop, and scaramouche when he had audacity to think that by begin inside giant mech he is now a God becose even if the creator is the kindest begin in tevyat.....his wrath has no bounds

@zardas75 welcome back to my very dead mailbox LOL—Let me see what I can come up with with your brainrot.

I don't fully get the Raiden Shogun vs Signora part, so I'm going to (unfortunately) not include that in this post.

The Creator Being Moody Fr (Jkjk—Unless? 👀)

(Disclaimer: Might Be OOC & Spoilers to the Genshin Impact Archon Quest Lore!)

Boy oh boy...where to begin...

To put it simply: It's Azar's Fault. Blame and point your fingers to the rusty old man, bois, we ain't forgiving him any time soon. It all started with him.

The moment you saw him in the Archon Quest, you knew, without even needing the slightest hint of evidence, that you did not like him and he was sus.

And when things escalated throughout the Archon Quest, you swore so loudly it shook the entire nation of Sumeru, if not all of Teyvat.

Here were Some of the Sumeru People's Reactions:

Cyno

He finished his confrontation with Azar and was waiting outside when you swore like your life depended on it. During his entire time being under your presence, Cyno was aware of how much you hated the guy—every moment you had gotten, you were seething and spouting insults from your mouth about Azar.

Even the General Mahamatra was stunned and shocked to the very core. He didn't you could and would do this.

And when you made it clear that your tantrum was yet to end, Cyno just braced himself for the fate of Sumeru to be in your hands.

"At least Azar is truly facing the wrathful judgement of the gods..." he mutters to himself, trying to convince himself of the situation at hand.

(Meanwhile You in the background: "YOU MF HOW DARE YOU. HOW DARE YOUUUU I WILL F—KING KILL YOU IF YOU CONTINUE THIS YOU SON OF A B—")

Scaramouche & Nahida

(Decided to add them both here since It's the False God Fight. This is kinda for the sake of convenience—)

Nahida never knew such intense emotion could ever erupt from Their High, Almighty Grace, and here you are, cursing and insulting Scaramouche. It wasn't as bad as Azar's, since you weren't throwing in any "I will have your head by morning" or anything similar threats, but it was still pretty intense.

Scaramouche, on the other hand, has heard you yelling at the old man Azar, and he already been yelled at for—quote on quote—"killing Teppei" (REST IN PEACE, TEPPEI 😭), so he knows what your wrath was like.

He did not like it then, and he still doesn't like it now. That much was a solid fact. Nevertheless, he has an image to uphold, especially in front of that Buer.

"Their Almighty Grace is really mad..." Nahida thought as they were confronting Scaramouche. (Cue you in the background still insulting Azar) "And it seems they won't be forgiving Azar anytime soon..."

"So, Their Grace still hasn't let go of their grudge against me..." Scaramouche mutters to himself once he was out of the view of Their Almighty Grace in his mecha. "Tch. Whatever...I'll make them see my true potential one I've squashed these insects."

Dehya

She knew you were explosive. She's seen it happen by the way you were cheering to beat Rahman's ass and "save the kid's grandpa!"

She knew you were pretty emotional on behalf of them. She's pretty happy and honored about that—that means Teyvat meant a lot to you.

What she was not expecting was to hear you curse and scream at Azar at the top of your lungs, as if that was the only enjoyment you were able to indulge yourself in.

You sounded murderous, and yet here you were, just yelling. Dehya would've shrugged it off, since she understood getting things out of your system was good, but she was not expecting the world to shake with your voice.

She looks over at Rahman. "You think Their Grace is handling this well?" "Probably not...Hard to say, Dehya." "Well, we'll just have to wait it out, then. They'll get it out of their system...eventually..."

Dehya was not expecting to wait until after beating the False God for it to be truly over. Gosh, that was scary...

Tighnari

He sensed that you didn't like Azar the moment you saw him, and frankly, he's pretty glad you don't trust him too. What he wasn't expecting was your explosive personality.

For all the stories about the Almighty Creator's kind and gentle nature, you were ANYTHING but. And you were proving it HARD.

Tighnari thought he heard it all when he got struck by lightning. Boy, was he wrong, because you just one-upped his expectations with the amount of cussing, cursing, threats, and insults you were hurtling in one go, streaming out of your mouth like you were running a marathon with your words.

So here he was, waiting in some form of dread in Pardis Dhyai, waiting if you were going to strike down the Akademiya with your godly might.

"I hope they don't accidentally blow up all of Sumeru..." he mutters to himself as he prays to all the archons that the nation wouldn't be turned into water or something.

Alhaitham

He should have taken account of your behaviour to the plan. You did play a crucial part. That was the sole mistake he overlooked.

Then again...it didn't seem like you were doing anything other than yelling at Azar...So perhaps the plan wouldn't change all that much.

He should keep in mind of how reactive you are, though. You...remind of his roommate sometimes...

"Hm. It seems Their Grace has yet to let Azar go of their scandal." He says it so calmly as he waits in Aaru Village. Candace stands a few feet away, looking unsure of what was going on—and probably praying that Their Almighty Grace won't strike down Sumeru in their anger against the rogue Grand Sage.

And let's not talk about the Traveler or Paimon. Those two are both used to it and still terrified. But they're okay with you dw 👍

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: IM COMING BACK WOOO! I'm so excited! There's been quite a few more requests than I usually got back in the past, so I'm a little stoked. They'll be out real soon, but I hope you enjoy this one! Hopefully I'll have time to do them all! :D

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[countrymusiclover]

1 - Professor Reid

Part 2

Detective Stabler’s Daughter

Here's the first chapter and as always if you have anything you'd like to see. I always leave my stories open for suggestions.

“Are you sure you have your pepper spray?” My father Elliot asked me like the tenth question in the car driving me from our house to my college where my younger sister Kathleen was going to be attending this year.

Sending my dad a glance he was panicking far too much about this, especially since it was my senior year there and nothing bad has ever happened. “Dad, please calm down.”

“You know if anything goes wrong, call 911.” He added another point not hearing me.

I sighed, slumping my shoulders. “Dad! It’s my senior year. I will be perfectly fine.”

“I deal with the worst people in the city, honey. I just don’t want something to happen to you when I’m not there to protect you.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel waiting for the light to change green.

We finally pulled up in the parking lot outside the building of my first class. We had already moved my stuff in my dorm but my parents also said if I wanted to come home for a while I could. Getting out of the car I went around and hugged my father when he got out of the car. “Don't worry so much. Besides I'll have my sister here to have my back.”

“Y/n. Dad!” We turned our heads seeing my sister running towards us across the parking lot.

I broke the embrace from him, engulfing her in a tight hug. “Kathleen!”

“I've missed you.” I squeezed her tightly back even though we had only been apart a week since she moved in a week earlier being a freshman.

We finally broke our hug turning to face our father. He was standing in front of us simply just staring at us. He was always overprotective of every single one of his children. “You two need to stay in constant contact with each other. If you can’t reach the other, tell me or your mother immediately.”

“We know dad.” I grumbled loving him but this was a tad much.

Kathleen walked up to him, hugging him. “Dad, stop being such a worrier. Y/n and I will be fine without you breathing down our necks.”

“I love you both - uh I better get to work.” His phone vibrated in his pocket when he broke the hug with her. He began walking away from us pointing his index finger at us rounding the corner out of our sights. “Be responsible. Both of you.”

Kathleen and I said in unison, looping arms with each other heading off in the direction of our first class of the school year. “Love you dad.”

My sister and I entered the building seeing that the room was shaped like theater seating that were slightly surrounding the professor desk and large white board. We decided to sit in the second row seating in the middle for the best view, but where we didn't come off as so eager to learn. Reaching inside my backpack I drew out a light green notebook. “So do you have your sights on getting a boyfriend before you leave here?”

“What no.” I whipped my head around at my sisters question.

She huffed. “Why not?”

“Because I have been perfectly happy doing my college years without a boyfriend and I'm quite sure I can finish out my last one without one.” I explained to her sitting some pencils beside my notebook.

My sister clicked her tongue. “That's my goal for you this year. To get you a boyfriend.”

“How about you focus on your studies.” I reminded her.

The rest of the classroom began filling up with people before a different door was opened and closed behind the person who walked in. The guy that I assumed could only be our professor sat down on a satchel on the long desk. “Good afternoon class. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. You can call me Professor Reid.”

“He’s cute.” I heard one of the girls in front of us.

I picked up my pencil marking notes for myself across the syllabus we had to have printed out before the first day of class and already read over it. “Awe.” Another girl rested her chin in the palm of her hands.

“I assume you all have read the syllabus but if you have any questions feel free to ask.” The professor explained brushing his hands over his clothes. He was wearing a gray shirt underneath a black suit jacket and some brown dress shoes.

Kathleen tapped my shoulder trying to talk to me. “They are right. He is rather cute.”

“Sssh Kath.” I warned her wanting to pay attention instead of gossiping.

“Okay let’s take a moment now to discuss the difference between a trigger and a stressor.” Professor Reid began the lecture for our first day of class. “A trigger is a sensory event experienced by an offender that precipitates subsequent behavior whereas a stressor is a longer term pattern of behavior or circumstances which pushes a person into behaving differently than they normally would.”

Some of the other girls in the class began twirling their hair and giving him the doe eyes, clearly not paying attention to what he was saying. “You’re probably gonna wanna write this down. I shouldn’t be telling you this but I’m definitely putting this on the final.”

“I’m only auditioning this class.” My pencil moved across the page taking down detailed notes until a girl with long black hair raised her hand in the air.

Our professor raised a brow. “Is anyone else auditioning this class?”

“Oh man. He’s definitely cute.” Kathleen mumbled under my breath.

I rolled my eyes at her statement seeing most of the girls in the class raise their hands answering his question. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Okay - unfortunately that is all the time we have for today. Thank you guys, class dismissed.” He paused, eyeing his wrist watch and dismissing the class earlier than the end time that was listed.

Kathleen began putting her stuff away getting to her feet to leave like most people were. “Cool. Out of class early on the first day. Can you show me around the campus?”

“Yeah sure.” I answered her.

I heard our professor’s voice call out to me suddenly. “Excuse me, miss. Can I talk with you for a second?”

“Uh me?” I turned my body around, eyeing him standing down by his desk.

He nodded yes to me. “Yes.”

“Oooh already in trouble on day one.” Kathleen teased.

I glared at her, waving her off and gathering my stuff to go meet him down at his desk. My sister slipped out the double doors into the hallway. “I’ll find you later. Hi Professor Reid, you wanted to speak with me.”

“I noticed you and your friend were the only ones really paying attention in my lecture today.”

I made a simple noise at his point. “Oh.”

“I just wanted to say thank you. It was kinda embarrassing to learn that the majority of girls in here are auditing my class.”

Hugging my notebook closer to my chest I sent him a kind smile not expecting him to admit that it affected him. “Well uh - thank you for saying that, Professor.”

“Call me Spencer - um only if you want to - if we’re talking like this. Never mind, I shouldn't have said that. That was very unprofessional of me Ms.-“ He stuttered on his words, shifting from foot to foot.

I felt my face turn red at what he had just said until I shook my head pushing whatever I was feeling away since I was a student and he was a professor. “Stabler, Y/n Stabler. I’ll - uh see you tomorrow Professor Reid.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Stabler.” He replied watching me exit the classroom while I peaked over my shoulder sparing him one glance before I was out of sight.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - send an ask to be added @hiireadstuff

[lightgirlification]

In Stars and Time: After Story Chapter 1

HERE WE GO FOLKS I'M SO EXCITED TO SHARE THIS STORY WITH YOU ALL!!! <3 This story is so important to me and I hope it will find a place in all of your hearts as well <3 CW for the story as it WILL contain sensitive topics, and I will warn for when the warnings are necessary. With that said, please enjoy the first chapter of this journey! <3

In Stars and Time: After Story

Chapter 1:

Siffrin was napping on a warm afternoon, a gentle breeze hitting his face cooling it down. Everything was peaceful, from the birds chirping to the wind blowing softly against the leaves on the trees. The sun’s rays shined down onto Siffrin’s already warm face, as he tried to recall what he dreamt. It was of a star, one that was there to help them and comfort him when he needed it.

It felt familiar, all too familiar…

“…Frin…! Siffrin!”

Oh no…No no no! He broke the loops, didn’t he? He made it out with his family, they are all with him, aren’t they?!

Calm down, try to breathe, you’re just having a bad dream. It’s just a bad dream!! Siffrin felt like his throat was closing as his pulse began to race. He reached down to grasp the grass when he felt wood, and soon Mirabelle’s voice spoke again,

“There you are Siffrin! I was worried about you!” That was different too. Siffrin slowly opened his eye and finally remembered he had made his way over to the Favor Tree and had fallen asleep. That’s right, he was free. His body relaxed and released the tension in his limbs. Everything was fine, everything was fine, breathe in…And out…He turned to Mira and gave a tired smile,

“Mira…” Mirabelle sighed in relief, before giving the other a concerned, yet soft smile.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here. But you can’t keep wandering off like this! You still need to rest!” Mirabelle placed her hand on Siffrin’s forehead, “You’re still rather warm.” Right, he used craft again during that battle; another fever was bound to happen. Come to think of it, he was without his gloves and cloak at the moment, though it makes sense considering he’s been bed ridden the past few days. Well, mostly, he kept making his way back to the tree after all. Mirabelle removed her hand but stayed close, looking at the other tilting her head,

“Why do you keep coming back here?” Siffrin pointed to the area across from him,

“I wanted to...Talk to Loop.” It is silent until Siffrin recalls where Loop is, or rather is not, and his expression turned solemn,

“Oh…That’s right.” He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t help it. The fever heightened his emotions and he...Missed them. Someone Siffrin cared deeply about, who helped him through the worst moments of his life, was the reason he had succeeded, and he couldn’t talk to them now. It wasn’t fair…Suddenly, Siffrin felt gentle pats to his head snapping him out of his thoughts,

“They’ll come back, Siffrin. I’m sure of it!” Siffrin stared at the Housemaiden, but nods, their smile returning,

“They super-duper promised.” Mirabelle gave a giggle,

“And that’s how you know they mean it! Come now, let’s get you back to the Clock Tower.”

Mirabelle helped Siffrin up and made sure to walk with him slowly. It had been 2 days since the loops had ended, and peace had returned to the land of Dormont. Siffrin, despite his fever, took in the sights of people going about their day in various ways outside of the loops. He’s still not used to it yet, being free from looping the same two days over and over. Seeing the same situations, hearing the same dialogue, fighting the same enemies; he gets anxiety just thinking about the whole thing. He remembers waking up the first night screaming, begging not to go back. Thank goodness Isabeau was by his side at the time. Soon the others were too, well except for...

...

He didn't want to think about that right now...

As Mirabelle and Siffrin approached the broken bridge, Isabeau soon came into view looking slightly anxious. Seeing them arrive the man almost rushes over, but refrains as to not overwhelm Siffrin,

“Found him where he was last time?” The man asked, and Mirabelle nodded,

“Napping under the Favor Tree.” Isabeau gave a soft chuckle, leaning down to ruffle Siffrin’s hair gently,

“I know you love adventure Sif, but right now you need to stay put.” The shorter of the three looked away feeling guilty, knowing he made the others worried again.

You always do this; you make things worse for them…

“I’m sorry...”

“It's okay buddy, we just need to make sure you are all better, alright? Up we go...” Isabeau lift Siffrin up, cradling him in his arms, before he and Mirabelle hopped over the broken bridge as Siffrin nuzzled into Isabeau's hold. It’s always so nice to be held by Isabeau, Siffrin thought, it’s tight but not crushing; more so protective. Siffrin loved his hugs a lot, then again, he loved all his family member’s hugs. The three enter the Clock Tower, where the sound of kitchen utensils and appliances can be heard. The smell of delicious food wafted through the air which made Siffrin feel at ease. Soon, a young voice called out to him,

“‘Frin!” Bonnie ran over and lightly pat Siffrin’s arm, as if scolding him. “You were bad again! Good kids stay in bed when they're sick!”

“Don’t worry Bonbon.” Isabeau grinned, “We’ll be keeping a closer eye on him!” Bonnie crossed their arms in a huff,

“You better! Or they’ll miss out on the best soup I’ve ever made!” Siffrin perked up at what Bonnie just said. Soup sounded amazing right now, though to be fair anything Bonnie made would be great. Mirabelle giggled some more,

“I think they’re excited about that!”

“They should be!” Bonnie voice held pride, “Now, stay in bed and get more rest ‘Frin! Or I'll put potatoes in your soup!” Siffrin chuckled weakly, Bonnie wouldn't do that even with the threat. They’ve been giving him nothing but good food and made sure it was healthy too, and even though it was healthy it tasted amazing; just a testament to how great a cook Bonnie was. Mirabelle began to help Bonnie with preparing dinner as Isabeau carried Siffrin into the bedroom, where the rogue’s eye wandered to a bed where Odile lay. She was fast asleep and had been since everything ended.

Odile had passed out around the same time Siffrin did, but unlike him she had not woken up yet. Using Time Craft had taken a lot out of her, and while the Head Housemaiden reassured everyone she would be fine, Siffrin still felt responsible...

You ARE responsible. You’re surprised no one has held you accountable yet.

Siffrin buried his face into Isabeau's chest whimpering, and the man hugged him closer,

“She'll wake up Sif, and when she does, she'll be right as rain.” Siffrin couldn’t bare to look at the older woman,

“But...I did that to her...” Isabeau shook his head,

“She did what she did to save you Sif, and I think if it were up to her, she'd do it again.” Siffrin whimpered again on the verge of tears. Isabeau walked over to their shared bed and sat down with them now on his lap, still in his arms,

“Do you really think she'd blame you after all this, when she used it even though it was dangerous?” That was the million silver coin question,

“…I don’t know.”

You don’t want to know.

Isabeau rubbed Siffrin’s back in comfort,

“Well, I think she won't, and that's an Isabeau guarantee!” Siffrin finally smiled, and he rested the side of his head on Isabeau's chest; he could fall asleep here if he wanted. At this, Isabeau nuzzled his cheek in Siffrin’s hair, causing the other to giggle. The rogue could slightly feel the other's stubble through his thick bright hair and he adored it,

“Heh, don't fall asleep just yet you adorable knife you. You still need to take the medicine the Head Housemaiden recommended for you.” The eye-patched wearing adult grimaced,

“Do I have to? It’s horrible...”

“Now now, good children take their medicine no matter how bad it tastes. It's healthy for you!”

“Bonnie’s healthy stuff tastes significantly better...” Siffrin muttered, leading Isabeau to chuckle,

“Food can be the best medicine in theory, but to make you truly better, we unfortunately must use the ‘horrible syrup’.” Siffrin groaned and Isabeau set his favorite short fellah on the bed before he prepared the medicine, then handing it in a small cup to Siffrin who stares at it with disdain before drinking it. He instantly sucks in a breath.

GROSS.

As usual, he had half a mind to spit it out right now. However, Isabeau and the others would disapprove, so he wouldn’t. Siffrin swallowed it before sticking his tongue out as if airing it out would make the taste go away. Isabeau pat his head,

“Nice job Sif. I know how bad it tastes.” Siffrin made a face, clearly not believing the younger man,

“No, you don’t.”

“Okay I don’t, but I can imagine. I’ve tasted some bad medicine in my life too, you know! Felt like my worst enemy!” Siffrin smirked,

“What? ‘Mr. Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau’ almost defeated by some medicine?”

Isabeau blushed deeply at Siffrin’s words, as does the scissors craft user himself.

OH NO. YOU GOT TOO COMFORTABLE YOU FORGOT YOU ONLY SAID THAT ONCE OUTSIDE OF THE LOOPS. AND IT WAS DURING THE WORST POSSIBLE MOMENT.

The older between the two grew flustered, “I-I mean-! What did I say? I didn’t say anything! Did you hear that c-cause I didn’t!” Siffrin covered his face as if that will hide him completely, and soon he hears a bashful laugh. He lets out a groan as he peaked through his hands.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m sorry, you just...caught me off guard.” Isabeau rubbed the back of his neck, a joyful smile on his lips, “‘Mr. Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Buff Isabeau’ huh? I remember you saying that before. Sounds like something I would call myself.” Siffrin groaned again,

“Please wipe it from your memory.” The taller male laughed,

“No can do! It was spoken by the ‘Amazing-Wonderful-Funny-Cute’ Siffrin! It is forever ingrained in my train of thought forever more!” Siffrin curls in on himself, forehead hitting his knees as he whined, and the larger man simply chuckled some more, “It’s fine Sif. If anything, I really like the name! It means you think highly of me.” Siffrin is quiet for a minute, before looking up at the rock craft user,

“I always think highly of you. I’m just...Not good at saying what I mean.” Isabeau gazes warmly at him, and he didn’t understand why Isabeau looked at him like that. He didn’t understand why he loved him, but because it’s Isabeau he can believe it. The man would never lie to him, he never has.

“And that’s okay Sif. Talking can be hard; trust me I get it.” Isabeau rubbed the back of his neck again, “You um...Know how I feel about you, though I could’ve gone on longer.” He could’ve, but he saw Siffrin was becoming overwhelmed so he stopped. It was adorable honestly; Siffrin hoped he could hear the rest someday soon. There was a comfortable silence between the two as both seem to not know what to say next. Siffrin played with the blanket underneath his fingers, deep in thought.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Siffrin and Isabeau were now joined by Bonnie and Mirabelle who arrived with dinner. They have once again decided to eat together in the bedroom, Mirabelle and Bonnie on one bed, Isabeau and Siffrin on another. Siffrin was given a bowl of soup instead of what everyone else was served however he didn’t mind, the soup tasted just as great as what everyone else was having.

“And then Bonnie showed me how to chop up the vegetables perfectly!” Mirabelle said with a smile, and Bonnie grinned,

“Nille taught me! She says it’s an ‘artfoam’!”

“Artform, Bonbon.” Isabeau corrected,

“Nille says it’s an ‘artform’!” Siffrin smiled, and he ate more of his soup. It was so delicious, and he let out a pleased sound, causing Bonnie to beam proudly,

“Told you he’d like it! Especially with the broth we made!” Mirabelle nodded,

“There was never any doubt Bonnie!” Of course not, Bonnie was the best chef there ever was in Siffrin’s mind. He gave a big grin,

“All hail the Great Chief Bonnie!” Bonnie blinks before raising their fists in the air,

“Th-That’s right! I AM THE GREAT CHEF BONNIE!” Mirabelle and Isabeau giggled,

“All hail!” They both declared and the group laughed before everyone began to talk about things they planned on doing when their new journey began, Siffrin remaining quiet throughout most of it. He can’t remember the last time he felt comfortable not saying anything, not worrying if another person may judge him if the conversation didn’t continue. Perhaps with his family he knew it was okay to be quiet, that words can be left unsaid, and the feelings are still carried.

Still, he’d like to say something for the sake of it.

“I am...not entirely sure how to handle all this, being free and...feeling truly loved.” The other three look at Siffrin, and he continued, “Odile says I was probably loved before I forgot everything, but it’s hard to understand you know. Hard to believe.” Siffrin brushed his arm dotted with little scars he gave himself in the house, an action he will never be proud of, “But I want to believe it. I want to believe that my whole life, despite my flaws and mistakes, I’ve always been loved. That I had a home, parents who looked at me and were...” Siffrin recalled seeing an island from the House’s top floor window. A part of him somehow knew, deep down, that was where he used to belong. He began to tear up, but knew it was not from the fever, “...Were proud of me.”

“Siffrin...” Mirabelle whispered sadly. It is quiet, and Siffrin believed he had said something out of turn. However Isabeau, although hesitating at first, placed a hand on Siffrin’s. The shorter adult's shoulders raised a little in response, before he looks at the other, eye glassy with tears threatening to fall. Isabeau’s expression was somber yet held so much care for the other,

“We want to tell you what you desperately want to hear but...We can’t do that. However, what I can say is that you were given life. Someone carried you for months, raised you, and even though you can’t remember, the fact that you still had belongings on you means something.” Bonnie nodded swiftly with a determined expression,

“Yeah! Parents who are thinking would never let you be without important things!”

“Bonnie...” Mirabelle held her hands to her chest, and Siffrin stared at all of them. It is quiet once again, but only for a moment,

“I...” Isabeau began, “Took a closer look at your cloak while you’ve been resting, to study. I-I hope you don’t mind! I didn’t mess with it of course! I just always thought it looked amazing so I wanted to see if I could make more things like it for you!” Isabeau collected himself by taking a deep breath, “And I...can’t really make anything like it. I’m not experienced enough.” Siffrin tilted his head and he let Isabeau continue, “First off, the type of stitching your cloak has is called ‘backstitching’. It’s a very solid type of stitching, used in a lot of different places, right? But Vaugardian clothing is moving away from it cause, well, many think it’s boring.” Isabeau pointed to his own clothing, “For instance, my clothes have ‘chainstitching’, which has a zig zag shape because it looks cuter, I guess.” He then looked at Siffrin’s cloak hanging in the closet,

“But backstitching is much more durable. Come to think of it...Maybe your hat had the same type of stitching, as it was probably paired with your cloak. Next, your cloak is made of wool, going one thread up, then down, etc.-”

“WOOL?!” Bonnie interrupted, Mirabelle speaking next,

“Th-Then how did he survive the summer heat?!”

“I’m getting to that!” Isabeau makes sure the others returned to listening before he continued once more, “The cloak, and most likely the hat, were less likely to make you look pretty or stand out, and more so to keep you comfortable.” Wait...Siffrin was starting to recall this conversation...

“There’s craft woven into the seams, and it regulates your temperature to make sure you are always cool or warm.”

“Th-That’s very advanced level crafting!!” Mirabelle exclaimed and Isabeau nodded,

“Indeed. Not only that, but the cloak was made to grow with him.”

That’s right...Siffrin remembered that...

Isabeau smiled warmly, “So, whoever made your cloak, and by extension your hat, really loved you Sif. They wanted you to be happy and cozy for a long, long time.” Siffrin couldn’t stop the tears that fell from his eye, them dripping onto the back of his hand. The trio panic, as Isabeau griped Siffrin’s hand tighter.

“O-Oh geez! I’m sorry Sif, I didn’t mean to make you upset!” Mirabelle placed her plate on the nightstand and hopped off where she sat before she made her way over to Siffrin and began drying his eye with a handkerchief,

“Oh Siffrin, please don’t cry. We were just trying to help.” Siffrin shook his head, trying to hold back their sobs,

“I-I’m okay. I just...Am thankful to know all that.” Bonnie walked over and huddles close,

“D-Do you want more soup ‘Frin? I have lots more!” Siffrin wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t form now; he was crying and couldn’t stop. The cloak he had ever since he could remember was made with love and care, he had nothing to fear at all...

“See? I told you...” Everyone jumped and turned towards the other occupied bed. There was Odile, smiling tiredly at them,

“You are and always have been very lovable Siffrin.”

[oneatlatime]

Want to get your thoughts on something you've touched on in a couple places. A pretty popular idea in the fandom is that one of the (in-universe) reasons airbenders have gone so hard into the peace-and-love monk thing is a self-awareness that, if they didn't, there's not a whole lot anybody could realistically do about it.

Like, Southern Air Temple pretty strongly implies that Gyatso solo'd a room full of comet-roided firebenders. It killed him but he did it, and while he is a master Airbender, we're not given any real indication that he is uniquely so, right?

I have many thoughts on this! Sorry in advance for the long post! And sorry if this goes a bit off topic!

Short answer: I don't agree.

Long answer:

We've seen that nations' cultures tend to reflect their native bending styles. Or vice versa. It's probably a chicken and egg scenario. The Fire Nation chose to spread (like wildfire) and is full of hot headed, impetuous roid-rage sufferers who can't see or plan for the long term. Fire itself easily becomes ungovernable and is at best muzzled/leashed, always waiting for the next chance to bubble over in unplanned / unpredictable / generally unhelpful directions (Hi Zhao!). So an element shapes a culture shapes and element until you've got a positive feedback loop (or in the case of the Northern Water Tribe, a negative feedback ourobouros due to outside pressure). Importantly, neither culture nor element develops in isolation; I think they develop simultaneously.

The Earth Kingdom is probably the most rigid and unchanging, even when it would benefit them to change/innovate. We see rigidity and humourlessness in response to change or the unexpected (see Toph's parents) and we see an inability to let go of a bad idea, or mitigate the consequences / think on the go when things that were clearly bad ideas go bad in ways anyone with a non-earthbender brain can see coming a mile off (think The Avatar State episode). Earth digs in when it should retreat, stands solid when it should duck and weave. It is grounded to the point of stupidity (unless you're Toph or Bumi, although even Toph seems to be unbending so far). It's linear to the point of being unable to deviate from that line.

This is me guessing, but I figure since fire and water are opposites, air must be the opposite of earth, right? So while we'll never see airbending culture in a non-shrunk-down-to-one-person form, we can look at earthbending culture for its dark reflection. Well, probably not dark, but you get what I'm saying. They'll be opposites in world view. We can extrapolate.

So if earth is grounded, humourless, aggressively traditional, linear, then air must be constantly fluctuating, unchained, lighthearted, bonkers-all-over-the-place. The heaviness of earth would dictate that problems should be faced by digging in and facing them head on until the problem blinks first. The lightness of air would dictate that problems should be faced the opposite way: blinking first i.e. removing yourself from the problem entirely. The linearity of earth dictates that fights are solved by fighting - you punch me, I punch you. The non-linearity of air would seek to recontextualise a problem until it's no longer a problem because we all forgot what we were fighting about in the first place, i.e. throwing pies at it or busting out the marble trick. The heaviness of earth would cause excessive earthly attachment; the lightness of air would cause excessive detachment from worldly concerns.

To start violence is to make a statement that you wish to be involved. It's rooting yourself to a particular dispute, choosing a hill to die on. It stems from attachment. This is earthbendery behaviour (and Zuko-y, but let's not go there). To never start violence is to never invest, never dig in your feet and make a stand. To be detached. (I'm oversimplifying here.) It's clear from in-show examples that Aang's pacifism is of the "ladies don't start fights but they can finish them" variety; he's got no problem with self-defence (caveat: we have no idea how typical an air nomad Aang was). But he never attacks first that I can think of.

Violence is a very direct tool. If someone starts a fight with you, and you decide to continue it, you're choosing the most obvious action. Since when is airbending direct or obvious?

All this to say, I think that pacifism, peace and love, monkiness, etc., was more likely a natural and inevitable outgrowth of air nomad culture, caused by constant culture / element interaction, rather than a conscious choice.

So I think airbenders "have gone so hard into the peace-and-love monk thing" because the nature of their element creates a culture that discourages the traits required for effective offensive violence, and the inherent detachment and ever-changing nature of air naturally encouraged spiritual (i.e. monkly) pursuits rather than earthly ones, like whatever the conflict of the week is. I don't think self-awareness of the dangers of their element factors into it. Not to take away from Gyatso's accomplishment, but I think air is nowhere near the most dangerous element. From what I've seen so far that would be Fire or Earth, though I'd give the edge to Fire because they self-generate, and also because they've spent a largely successful century dominating the other elements. Waterbenders and earthbenders can be neutralised by taking away their element; airbenders - due to the very nature of their element - probably can't get past that initial avoid and evade instinct to become legitimate offensive threats.

As for Gyatso, I think he's an outlier. We know little about him so far, but we do know that: a) Aang says he's the best airbender (in I think the Southern Air Temple?); b) he's good enough that he was granted a statue while he was still living, learning, improving; and c) he's good enough that the monkly council (of which he is part) granted him the honour/responsibility of being the quasi-dad of the Avatar. These things tell me that Gyatso was the Spiders Georg of the Airbenders. I suspect Bumi is the same for the Earthbenders, and at least as far as the philosophy of bending is concerned, Iroh may be so for Firebenders. Even the example of Gyatso nuking the comet-enhanced firebenders is a case of defensive action in ultra extraordinary circumstances: he was staring into the teeth of a genocide while mourning the disappearance of his quasi-son and the likely loss of the world's only hope / chance at stopping the war. That's how far you have to push an airbender before they'll take a life. Unless the Avatar world pre-war is a lot more godawful than Aang has implied, airbenders probably wouldn't have been taking lives frequently enough for them to get to the point where they would have to start questioning whether they should consider pacifism.

I think what this fandom idea ultimately is, is a desire for the hidden badass trope. Everyone loves it when the most peaceful character in the story is revealed to secretly be a Rambo-level fighting badass, right? Who didn't love it when kindly grandpa Roku manifested in his temple and unleashed a volcano? But I think this trope fundamentally takes something away from the appreciation of Airbending, Air Nomad culture, and the concept of Pacifism as a whole. This is just my interpretation, but applying the "secretly the deadliest all along!" trope to airbenders undermines their commitment to pacifism and makes it performative rather than earnest. It's a cop out; an acknowledgement that violence actually is the answer, and even those head-in-the-clouds monks know to use it when the chips are down. This show goes out of its way to show that non-combatants have value and a place in this world that's worth fighting for, that fighting goes way too far pretty frequently, that non-violent solutions are valid, even preferable. It would kind of undermine that message if all of the elements were easily weaponisable.

Something I've loved so far about Avatar is the show's earnestness. There have been no Marvel-style fakeout bathos plots. I feel making airbending secretly the deadliest element or similar would be exactly that sort of thing. Can't my pacifists be peaceful not because they're secretly untouchable badasses who carry the biggest stick, whom the rest of the world leaves alone out of fear, who are not a threat only because they have chosen not to be, but because that's just who they are?

On the other hand: Aang's been a one-man-army plenty of times. We've seen that; that's undeniable. So air is stupidly powerful as an element. No denying that. Gyatso did murder a bunch of people trying to kill him, so air can be deadly. But I don't think your typical airbender could be deadly. If you gave a can of airbending to a firebender, an earthbender, or even a particularly provoked waterbender, I don't doubt that they could kill people with it. But the culture that the element generated - rather than a conscious choice by that culture's participants - prevents them from taking the direct, violent, solution. And I think that culture developed in tandem with airbending, so there could not have been a time when airbenders were deadly as a rule. Air shaped airbenders as much as airbenders shaped air, and it shaped them into non-violent people.

There's a lot of power in the idea of consciously choosing, and sticking to, something that is perhaps not in line with your natural abilities. Styling airbenders as deadly-but-choosing-peace is a great way to explore themes of agency, identity, strength of character, morals, maturity, etc. But, to me, there's also a lot of power in the idea that some people just can't - not won't, but CAN'T - fight their way out of things, and this doesn't make it any less wrong to genocide the crap out of them.

If the fandom wants to headcanon airbenders as secret badasses who consciously choose nonviolence, I say a) go ahead! there's more than enough evidence to support that conclusion; b) I respectfully disagree; and c) is Iroh not enough?

tl;dr in my opinion, air's pacifism was a natural outgrowth of, and restriction imposed by, the element rather than a conscious choice; airbending can be deadly but airbenders aren't; Gyatso is not representative; 'speak softly and carry a big stick' is all well and good as a philosophy, but those who speak softly and don't have a stick are of value too.

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

I first realized that the best ghost stories are love stories after watching The Haunting of Bly Manor, and though I've experienced a lot of media since that reaffirmed that understanding, The Narrow by Kate Alice Marshall really feels like it's closing the loop. It rhymes with Bly in a way that feels like I've come to the end of some great journey, and am now prepared to start another. Like Bly, The Narrow is a story about abuse. It's a story about possession, in more than one sense. And it's a story that asserts that true love, the love that's worth keeping, is the love that knows how to let go.

Our story follows Eden, a senior at a prestigious private boarding high school rich with history and legends, especially around its deadly river, The Narrow, which is unapologetically based on the Bolton Strid. Eden is excited to return to school and escape a summer vacation marred by a profound abuse that she is refusing to think about. However, upon arrival she discovers that her parents have neglected to pay her tuition - coincidentally, they've had to pay a lot of legal fees recently - and she is forced to take on a unique arrangement to remain enrolled. She must act as the live-in companion of fellow student Delphine, a reclusive girl who cannot leave her carefully refurbished dorm room, as any contact with water sends her into seizures. Eden knows something about Delphine that almost no one else does, however - at the beginning of her first year, Eden saw Delphine fall into The Narrow and be swept away - and what The Narrow takes is never returned.

The mystery at the heart of the story is, ultimately, not that complicated, but it is beautiful in its simplicity and the way it plays with the reader's expectations. Those expectations are shaped heavily by Eden's point of view, and Eden is a triumph of an unreliable narrator. She actively avoids thinking about things that weigh on her and occasionally skates over her own actions where they clash with her self-image, but these more obvious and dramatic omissions draw attention away from the subtler ways that her biases and coping mechanisms shape her understanding of the world around her, and it took me until about the three-quarters mark to know where and how to disbelieve her perceptions. She is incredibly compelling, deeply empathetic, and absolutely drowning in self-worth issues. The supporting cast is equally compelling, and the author injects a surprising sense of depth into each member of her friend group in remarkably few lines. Each give the impression of being flawed, well-rounded, but fundamentally decent people, and they all feel very distinct from one another. I was going to highlight one of them as a favorite example, but I genuinely can't pick between them. The adults too are well-rounded and compelling, which I feel is often a shortcoming of horror in an academic setting (is that what dark academia is? no one will tell me). And of course Delphine herself is quite compelling; a little odd, very intense, and eminently sympathetic, her dynamic with Eden is fresh, engaging, and believable.

One thing I really want to highlight about this story is its willingness to engage with real-life messiness that is often elided in ghost stories and love stories. The mechanics of the supernatural are not well understood in this story, and no tomes of ancient lore exist to guide the protagonists. Their methods of interfacing with the supernatural are cobbled together from their own intuition and their vague impressions of the occult from pop culture and religious mysticism, and their efficacy is neither reliable nor consistent. Similarly, the story is not afraid of engaging with the fragility and volatility of young love, the way it can feel all-consuming and eternal in one moment and fizzle out the next. This sort of messiness always appeals to me in fiction, and it is remarkably rare outside of deliberate genre subversions, so I was absolutely thrilled with it here.

I would recommend The Narrow without hesitation to anyone who likes ghost stories. I would also recommend it for its exploration of abuse in a variety of forms, and for its depiction of the aftermath of said abuse. Take that same recommendation as a content warning, though, and I'll toss in a more specific one for involuntary drug use.

[cornflowershade]

as mentioned, the footage I got of GemFourth and PondPhuwin today!!! 💕 (yes my phone quality sucks in low light/on zoom but i'm posting this for my own joy and memories primarily <3) the beginning and end has the clearest stuff bc they were standing closer there :) full screen on a laptop will give the clearest view! ANYWAY IT WAS LITERALLY SO AMAZING TO SEE THEM!! i was smiling so hard the whole time and the energy of everybody excited to see them was super fun 🥺 They were like. Right there??? Real?? (And yes, just as lovely in person.) Honestly I wasn't even sure if I'd be able to see them by showing up outside an invite-only fashion show event but I'm so glad I tried because I DID and I was so thrilled!! <3 It felt so cool 😭 Like they were here! In my country! In a city that feels like home! In front of my eyes!

The closest area to the walkway was super crowded with a bunch of ppl climbed up onto this metal structure thing(?) which I was able to get in front of at the very end, but in order to have a good view when they were on the boat, I stood on top of a stone table lol. I met a girl with an Eclipse hat at the event and she joined me up there—it was fun to have someone to talk to and make comments with. (At one point she was like 'wish we could get their attention' and then we joked that we should just blare Hit Me Up lmao.) Also the vid is so blurry and idk if it really caught it, but when Gem waved from the boat he started out in our direction (which had far less people, none of them waving or yelling) right after I started waving widely his way?? so I'm gonna pretend he waved at me because I'm like 95% certain that he did, especially since his eyes were pointed more table-level and not ground-level at the start. Maybe I'm delusional but I'm gonna let myself have that and trust the HD that was my eyes 😂

Later Fourth waved at the group where a bunch of ppl (including me) were standing which was very sweet and I was happy to have somehow climbed very close to the front. Speaking of which, Fourth is so smiley! Also very cutely small. (Definitely theorizing he’s lying about his height haha.) Also all 4 were closest to me at the very end and I was so hyped about that but my phone DIDN'T RECORD IT?? So uh. rip. But regardless. It was such a special adventure getting there and then seeing them and experiencing the whole vibe. This was such an amazing evening I'm !! <333

and then i freaked out all over again when I got home and told my mom because I was like "omg i've literally vidded all 4 of them before and now I saw them??" which threw my brain for another loop hahaha. Anyway now i want to go to a fanmeet someday even MORE like CAN YOU IMAGINE. ok enough rambling gn y'all

[strawberrygrapesandcherry]

“What do you want?” Scott asks as he stares at the lawn just in front of the porch where he and Theo are sat.

Here we go again. “For the last time because you idiots keep bringing it up,” Theo starts saying while rolling his eyes. “I’m not planing on backstabbing you or killing you, and quite frankly I don’t want to part of this pathetic attempt of a pack.” Look, Theo gets the worry and concern, but at this point it’s beyond frustrating trying to repeat over and over again that he is in fact not up to anything.

It’s quite shocking even to himself, that he’d somehow became a normal— as close to normal as he can get anyways— person in the last few months. A rehabilitated murderer, Liam likes to call him. Domesticated was used more than once by Mason.

“That’s not what I asked” Scott responds with a softer tone, his eyes crinkling slightly; an effect of the gentle smile he offers. “What do you want?” He asks one more time.

The question continues to ring in Theo’s mind on loop, because truth be told he isn’t really sure anymore. He knows what he wanted before. What the past him who was fuelled by anger and passion, and an insatiable need to be something—to be someone— outside of the dread doctors puppet wanted. He knows he wanted the power that came from pack, but somewhere in the deep scars of his heart, he wanted to belong. That had always been the goal, even if he’ll never admit it to himself.

The whole alpha thing wouldn’t hurt either, and from his life experiences, he didn’t know any other way to get what he wanted. Between being a failed science experiment, or a make believe version of a boy, Theo never really had the time to make friends or even learn how to do so anyway, so it’s no surprise that his perception of companionship was to be viewed through the lense of hierarchy and control, rather than loyalty and trust.

But that’s all irrelevant,because from the moment Kira’s sword struck the ground and Theo rose from the dust of his personal nightmare, his entire life would never be the same.

Now though? What does he want? He’s never genuinely been asked that before. Scott asks him like it’s a simple question but here Theo is, having a midlife crisis over it regardless.

Theo doesn’t believe he has the right to want; not after his past actions since he’d met the dread doctors. And more importantly, what he wants isn’t something he can have. Someone he can have. No matter how many sleepless nights he spend staring at the roof of his truck, thinking of ocean blue eyes and soft strands of hair he wishes to run his fingers through, he knows he’ll never have that. But oh does it comfort the hallow feeling in his chest.

An angry beta who he always finds himself being around, intentionally or not, like he’s some compass and Liam is always north that he points to. Theo finds him like a moth finds a flame. Like it’s natural, almost. He’ll always find Liam just like he did in the elevators or during the wild hunt, and Liam will always find him. But still, Theo will never get to have him.

Maybe he doesn’t get to have Liam—not in all the ways he wants him—but that will never deter from taking whatever Liam gives him, no matter how small. He’ll have to make do with what he gets; just like he always has done.

After what has definitely been the longest moment of awkward silence he can remember, Theo finally responds. “It doesn’t matter.”

Scott shakes his head, mostly to himself rather than at the dissatisfaction with Theo’s answer. “You and I both know that’s not true.” Neither of them says anything after that for a moment, and instead let Scott’s words linger in the delicate vacuum that had formed around them since they started talking.

Eventually though, Scott stands from where he sat next to Theo on his front porch and starts to make his way back into the house. Though just before he steps forward to shut the door, he turns around one last time to Theo. “You really should tell him. He deserves to know”.

(I don’t know why I wrote this tbh and Idek if it makes sense. Either way I thought I’d just post it instead of leaving it in the drafts lol. I know no one’s gonna see this, but I just had to. If I made typo, no didn’t)

*also this is the first fic snippet I’ve ever written so be nice pls 🤠

UPDATE= I finally got around to writing the rest of this on ao3 (the things we won’t let ourselves say)

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 6: Holes

Getting back into my apartment is actually not all that hard, since it has a big hole in it.

The silly part to me is that I have to take the stairs down to the ground floor, open the front door to the building, and then go outside just to see it. And then, in order to get the altitude to fly to it, I have to treat one of the streets as a runway and do a couple of loops when I clear the lowest buildings. I want to be able to slowly glide in to land in the hole, with as much control as possible, so I want to start higher than it.

Still easy enough, just tedious.

The traffic is light enough today that I can do this. I might have to try climbing during rush hour.

And there’s tape and a sheet of plastic across the hole, but I don’t care about that.

I do note that the businesses that are directly below my apartment are closed for the day, with that sidewalk cordoned off for safety. But my coffee shop is still open.

I do really want people to know that this is all Whitman’s fault.

But tearing through the plastic and yellow tape to enter my apartment does give me a tiny little taste of what it must have felt like for Whitman to crash through a brick fucking wall.

I want to argue with the physics of that feat, but I can breathe fire, and we’re both physically dragons. There are things at work here that were not taught about in high school or college science classes. Or any classes at all, I imagine. None that I took.

My skeletal structure alone is something that biologists will want to study intently at some point. If I let them.

My apartment is even more of a wreck than it was when I left it. The landlord and anybody else that they let in had apparently cleared a pathway to the hole by just shoving debris to the side, piling it on my belongings without any care. They didn’t touch or ransack anything else, but this obvious disregard for a bunch of things I was probably going to have to discard anyway still feels like as much of a violation of my space as the damage done by Whitman.

I hate it.

And I spend a few seconds hating it some more before I crawl to the bathroom.

I’ll spare you a description of what I have to do in the bathroom to use the toilet, though. It’s undignified and you’re probably imagining it just fine anyway.

Suffice it to say, while I can fit in there, I can never get a full view of myself in the mirror. I have to use dark shop windows on the street for that, and I’m pretty eager to get a selfie somehow, or get somebody to do a whole set of boudoir photos of me. That would be both funny and really cool to look at. Especially if my boudoir is my living room in its current state.

Anyway, despite all the damage, I’m starting to feel a lot more relaxed now that I’m in my own place. And while I’m still on the toilet, I find myself singing and practicing noises again.

I even keep it up when I go to eat the rest of what’s in my fridge.

One of the really cool things about my new anatomy is that I can breathe and make noises while my mouth and throat are full of a quarter pound of deli ham.

I’ve found I literally can’t eat as often as a human does. Because of how my hunger and digestion works, I have to gorge myself every couple of days if I’m active, it seems. But, I very clearly eat more than a typical person, and that worries me. I can’t exactly afford it.

Also, what does it mean in terms of my future development as a dragon?

If I manage to keep eating this much, is it because my body just needs this many calories to do what it does? Or am I growing?

And thinking about that then raises the question of what my expected lifespan is now, if I don’t get eaten by someone like Whitman.

I just really don’t know. There’s no precedent for any of this, and no experts. Just a bunch of myths that seem reasonably accurate so far because they describe such a broad swath of possibilities that you could make the case that a white tailed hare is a kind of dragon if you wanted to.

And on that note, once I’m done eating, I crawl over to the hole in my apartment and lie down there with my foreclaws and snout poking out into the outer world to rest and start digesting my food. And I fall quiet for a bit.

I actually kind of like this, and wonder if I could convince the landlords to let me keep it. I’m not really serious about the thought, because I still agree with Rhoda that I should move somewhere more secure and less potentially harmful to any neighbors I might have. I like living downtown, and this hole in the wall apartment would be perfect for me now. But if I’m going to be occasionally attracting challengers like yesterday, it’s just not safe or practical.

I do wonder, though, when I move how am I going to move all of my stuff?

Besides Rhoda, Chapman, and the baristas of my coffee shop, I don’t really have a group of friends who I could call on to help me move. And, on my SSI, I can’t afford a moving company.

I could try to crowdfund a few hundred dollars for a move, but then I’ve got to be careful it doesn’t go over the $2,000 limit for SSI qualification. But if I move into a care, at least I won’t need rent and utilities, and all I’ll need to worry about is food, phone, and… healthcare?

Who am I going to go to for healthcare?

A vet, probably. Shit. That’s not covered by Medicare.

This line of thought is just full of so many depressing realizations and –

Hey! There’s another dragon!

There’s another dragon flying across the bay, and it’s not Whitman!

Before I can stop myself, I’m rumbling. The rubble and dust on either side of me vibrates, and particles dance right off the edge of the hole in the wall and fall to the sidewalk below.

I lift my head to track their flight path, and feel this sneeze-like urge to squawk and rattle at them. It’s so hard to hold it back, and I might be revising some of my thoughts on instincts. But, dammit, I’m holding it in.

Since midday yesterday, my life has just been this non-stop sequence of mini-disasters, and I don’t need another one right now. Couldn’t that dragon just fuck off? I need them to go away so fast. They need to get out of my eyesight. It’s way too early in the morning for this shit.

Maybe if I go down to the coffee shop and hang out there I won’t need to see this kind of thing.

Fuck ‘em.

“rrrrrRRRRRRAWOWAAAK!!! NOKNOKNOKNOKNOK!!!!”

Shit.

And here comes another –

“GRAAAAK NOKNOKNOK!!!”

And I’m relieved just like I’d sneezed.

A cry comes back that sounds so canned, so much like a famous scream, I decide to name that dragon Wilhelm.

But they keep flying, and even seem to veer away from me. My movement focused eyesight does a great job of catching that subtly. And honestly, it’s critical when doing things like flying right into a wooded park, like I did yesterday.

I feel myself relaxing, but then I see some people on the street pointing up at me. My head twitches to put them in the center of my sight.

They wave cheerfully.

Cool.

I feel kind of proud, so I let myself puff up my chest. It’s not as impressive as it would be if I had feathers to fluff or a dewlap to inflate as well, but I don’t really care.

My emotions are just so strong today, and now that I’ve fought off two dragons, or scared them away, it’s hard not to feel possessive of my space and confident that I can keep it just fine. I’m still telling myself I eventually need to move. But I’m no longer ruminating on how or when to do it.

So I find myself sitting here for some time before I consider doing something else. I don’t really know how much time passes.

I watch some birds fly by. Some crows. A bunch of seagulls. And the seagulls look like something I might be able to catch and eat.

And then there’s a knock at my door.

At first, I’m startled and think of the police. But then I remember that I left Rhoda’s apartment without mentioning where I was going or leaving a note. Because, mostly, I didn’t have a good way of doing either without waking her up.

But after I get myself to the door to answer it, I remember that it’s locked and I look forlornly at the lock switch on the knob.

I can manage the deadbolt, but I can’t manage that little thing.

I make the classic ringtone noise loudly enough I think it can be heard through the door, then wander back to the hole. That should let her know that I’m in here, at least. And confuse anybody else that it might be. And if the door remains locked, maybe she’ll figure out how I got in.

I hear the doorknob rattle just a little, and then nothing.

I’m hopeful.

In the meantime, I don’t see any other dragons flying about, and I’m thinking I might be ready to visit the rest of my territory, such as it is.

And before too long, Rhoda walks out to the empty parking space just below my apartment and waves up at me.

I do a short chirp of the ring tone, and launch myself from the hole, gliding out to land in the parking lot across the street, landing in a row between the cars. It’s pretty easy to turn and walk toward Rhoda from there.

“Has anyone told you that you’re loud as fuck, Meg?” Rhoda asks once we’re in reasonable earshot of each other.

I lift my head and give her the smuggest cat smile.

I can’t help it, I’m feeling proud of how loud I am today. It’s saved me from another fight, the way I’m seeing it at the moment. Please don’t tell me otherwise.

“I don’t suppose you’ve read or heard the news yet,” she says.

I turn my head.

“Well, you and that other one definitely are not the only dragons that are out now,” she reports. “It’s a worldwide phenomenon, and most people are taking it in stride. The anchors I listened to were reporting it like it’s the latest step forward in civil rights or something, or a fashion trend. But, oh, there are some people who are just mad as hell about it!”

I grunt and stomp a foot.

“Let’s go get coffee and I’ll fill you in,” she suggests, so we do that.

It’s the Kims behind the counter today. Or Kim and Kimberly. And they’re delighted to see me, if a bit grumpy about the sudden construction site next door. Then, as Rhoda is placing our orders and insisting on paying for them, Kim thinks to ask if it was my apartment that exploded.

I look at Rhoda.

Rhoda explains, “We were cleaning up Meg’s apartment when –”

“Oh!” Kim exclaims, looking at me. “Your name is Meg now? Cool! I love it!”

I cat smile, full of giddy feelings at recognition, and Rhoda smiles up at me, too.

Then she continues, “We were tiding up and Meg was telling me about meeting Chapman, when another dragon attacked and broke right through that brick wall to challenge Meg. It was a whole mess.”

“People’ve been saying that,” Kimberly says.

“Yeah, but they didn’t say it was her apartment,” Kim looks back and points at me with her thumb.

Kimberly shrugs, “I just kinda figured.”

Kim turns back to Rhoda, brow furrowed, and asks, “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

“Ha!” Rhoda barks a laugh. “I’m going to need some extra heavy counseling from the police visit later that night, but no. No, I’m fine.”

“Ugh! I wish cops would just fuck off forever,” Kimberly huffs, and then takes the order slip from Kim and turns to start making drinks.

I was just going to go for a big cup of drip, but Rhoda has ordered me another mocha.

“It sucks you’re going to have to move,” Kim says to me. “Or, is the landlord going to give you a temporary lodging while they fix your place? Aren’t they legally required to?” She squints back to Kimberly.

“This is all new territory,” Rhoda says. Then she turns to me and says, “I’m sorry. I’m going to say what I think is the truth.”

I bow my head in acknowledgement. But I don’t really want to. I’m trying to think of ways I can stay in my apartment, even and including fully draconic methods for making sure it’s known I’m not leaving. But, I know I’m going to have to.

Rhoda turns to the Kims and explains, “If a dragon can break through a brick wall like that, and fights like that are at all likely, none of them can be staying in buildings with humans. It’s just not going to work out well for anyone. Even if the management agree to keep Meg in the building, she’s going to want a place that’s more secure. Like a cave. For her own sake.”

I bow my head again.

“Oh, that sucks. But I guess that makes sense,” Kim says.

“It’s hard,” Rhoda says. “The news says that statistically there could be anywhere from fifty to a hundred dragons in our own city alone. And I can’t believe there are that many suitable caves in the county. Though, I wouldn’t know.”

Eyes wide, both Kims say, “That’s a lot!”

“Jinx!” Kimberly says.

“Eh,” Kim responds. Then repeats, “That’s a lot.”

“Just zero point one percent of the human population, if that,” Rhoda says. “But, yes. A lot. Dragons take up a lot of space.” She glances at me. “Even if they can fit in a one bedroom apartment without scratching the walls too badly.”

I make a knocking sound as quietly as I can.

Eventually, Kimblerly finished our drinks and takes them both to my favorite table, which is up front near the counter. And we continue our conversation, mostly with me listening and slurping up my drink. And Rhoda fills us all in on what she’s been learning.

And I’m thinking I wish Chapman would show up, because sie is probably just swimming in all of this, and would love to hypeshare about it. Sie’d probably grill Rhoda for what she heard, too. And we’d all end up even more well informed.

But Rhoda is on it as anyone can be, and it turns out that there’s still just not that much known about what’s going on.

People are wondering, though. They may not be all that surprised by the appearance of a dragon, or the discovery that a loved one is a dragon. But everyone is wondering what’s going on. Including other dragons. There were a couple that were using AAC like me that got interviewed, and they expressed their confusion as well.

And, of course, there are some people who are up in arms about it all, too. About the same people you’d expect of any big social change, or emergence of a minority group. White supremacists, mostly, really. Terfs, Evangelicals, conservative Catholics, Militia groups, Trumpists, Fundamentalists. There’s a really strong religious contingent, and mostly Christian in nature, who are objecting to the presence of identifiable dragons in the world. And some are citing it as a sign of the end times or something. I expect there are other religions that have sects and denominations that are raising concerns or preparing to be militant about it, but being in the U.S. and English speaking, we’re not hearing much about it yet.

With the looming election, it makes my blood run colder than it already is. And I remember I’m also trans.

My life was already complicated and in danger because of my disabilities. But now I’m the new hot target for political debate, and I haven’t exactly been able to lie low locally in the past day. And my shape, size, and territorial instincts aren’t going to make it easy, either.

I have a moment wondering if, since people seem to recognize the dragons they’ve known since before the change, how this will all play with intersectional oppression. But I’m not really sure of my own ability to assess that, besides to conclude it will be complicated. I know that, in my case, I didn’t have a lot of resources before, with not much to lose, but not much to draw upon, either. And, also, I’ve traded in a couple of disabilities for a whole new one.

And thinking of that, I realize there are a few things I want to say to the Kims, so I nudge Rhoda with my nose and then point my snout at her purse.

She understands and pushes her phone across the table to me, after opening up the AAC app for me.

I hold up my claw and flex it, and then proceed to knuckle out a few simple sentences.

“My name Meghan the Dragon,” I say. “Meg OK. Cute. She and her.”

Both the Kims smile in response to that, and Kimberly says, “Well, you’re cute!”

“I see two dragons,” I continue. “I name: Whitman, Wilhelm. Whitman ass. Wilhelm smart.”

Rhoda chuckles, and says, “Oh, so that one that attacked was Whitman?”

“Yes.”

“And I haven’t seen Wilhelm yet?”

“If smart. Won’t.”

“Ah,” she says. “Is that why you were making so much noise this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Speaking of noises,” Kimberly says, “I hear you can imitate the door chime.”

I hold up a crooked claw in the best sign for one moment I can make, then knuckle out, “How fifty dragons eat?”

Everyone stares at me. I hear the rest of the cafe go silent.

“How hundred?” I ask. “What cost? What eat?”

Then I see some fortuitous movement outside the window and let my head track the flight of a seagull passing by, then look back at the Kims and tilt my head.

“Oh, shit,” Kim says.

In agreement, I make the door chime sound.

“Don’t do that during business hours, please. Or at all.”

[quinloki]

hello i'm eating up everythink this kink game is soo 😋😋😋

could you do branding, breeding and collar for Eustass Kid and Killer? (im a sucker for kid pirates what can I say, if you wanna add a third c of your own choice i'm all ears 🤭)

\o/ I'm enjoying doing these - I'm so glad people are enjoying them.

Branding, Breeding and Collaring - make talk about the Possessiveness Trifecta. Sucker for yandere that I am, I am not complaining, but a fair warning to everyone reading, I may go a bit hard on this.

Also - I 100% have some yandere Kid Pirates stuff I want to go balls to the wall toxic on, so I'm going to do these particular head canons from a healthy view point (save all my deep dark shadows for the multi-chapter stuff.)

Hmm.. I'm tempted to add Heat since I did Wire not too long ago, but I'm not feeling it so I'mma step outside the Kid Pirates for my wild card choice and go with hmmm...

(I've done breeding kink for : Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Rayleigh, Marco, Newgate, Jinbei, Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Lucci, Law and Kaku.)

Oh I was going to pick Sir Crocodile, because why not, but you know what, let's go with Smoker.

Eustass Kid:

Branding - Oh god you don't even know - Eustass isn't going to suggest this to you, but if you bring it up (tattoos, actual branding, cell popping) he'll be all for it. Safe and painless as possible - well, okay, I mean, sometimes the pain is the point, but my statement still stands. Cell popping is generally not-permanent but most other forms of branding are. Style, design, brand or tattoo, he's going to talk all the details out with you, and how you're going to go about getting it.

Strapped to a custom chair, completely naked, as either he - or someone trusted - does the work (hey if you head canon Kid as a tattoo artist, rock on). He'll tease, please, and praise you the entire time, probably record the entire thing for posterity too especially if it's a tattoo. If you're up for it, he'd be all in for you to have a couple tattoos - at least one everyone can see, and few for his eyes only.

Breeding - FUCK Yes - Man's got a specific piece of furniture for this. It's designed to be adjustable (It goes from 4'00" - 12'00" just because he could), and can be used with or without straps. It's got a few other addons, and it's multiple body type friendly.

Hey, Eustass makes things with his hands - not just metal stuff, the man's leather working and wood working skills are on point and I'm not even speaking in double entendre xD It's designed to keep from having the sub/bottom that gets on it from being too exhausted to be, well, bred. (Designed with their pleasure in mind cause some of these addons vibrate).

Thing of it like a comfy saddle with a sybian built into it (google that at your own risk).

Collaring - Oh god you don't even know - Obviously less permanent than branding, but there's a real "You gotta earn it" process to this for Kid. You don't just go around collaring people - putting someone in irons because they're a legit prisoner (or your role playing that sort of thing) isn't the same as this.

If you're okay with it he'll have a collection for you before long. From almost subtle chokers you can wear every day if you want, to ornate metal ones strictly for playtime, to fur-lined leather ones you could wear publicly if you wanted to. You can be sure all of them were made by Kid, and they're all going to be comfortable. The more comfortable you get wearing them, the more likely Kid is to loop a finger through them and pull you into a rough kiss without much warning.

Killer:

Branding - No - Tattoos are an exception to this, but permanently marking/scarring his partner is a big no for Killer. Careful temporary marking yes, but he's the one with the scars, and he doesn't want to cause you to have any (or any more than you already have). It's not that he needs your skin to be flawless, it's that he doesn't want to be the cause of any of your scars.

Killer's job is protecting - the Captain, you, the crew - and probably in that order if we're being legit. Now tattoo(s), something he designs, something you can each get (that not exact matches, but matches style), he's all for that if you are. He wants his somewhere he can easily see - and maybe even that can be easily seen. >.> He wants yours somewhere that only you and maybe the ship's doctor will ever see.

Breeding - FUCK Yes - I mean, have you see that breeding bench that Kid built?! Of course he enjoys using it, and this is a style of marking/possessiveness he can get behind. (ah, heh accidental pun there. get behind... xD) It's not just filling you up over and over that he enjoys, sometimes letting others fill you up too, but it's having you shudder and cum on his cock over and over too. He's into it just as much for your continued pleasure as his own.

The number of times your body tries to curl on that bench is going to be at least twice as often as Killer satisfies himself.

Collar - Oh god you don't even know - it's blue and white with a double row of spikes on it and somehow it is crazy comfortable to wear.

Well, at least that's the first one he gifts you. Killer won't force you to wear any collars, but he'll talk about them and their importance to him and what they mean, and when he gives you the first one he even reiterates that you don't have to wear it. But if you put it on yourself, or present your neck for him to put it on, it'll certainly have an effect on him.

And if you're willing to own/wear more, he'll be gifting a small variety to you. Though the first time he notices you wearing one outside of playtime, you might find yourself over his shoulder and on your way to the bedroom - or the nearest available secluded spot. He'll cool off a little with time (or learn better restraint), but that first time is going to hit him like a ton of bricks.

Smoker:

Branding - Rather not - Cell popping maybe, but branding or tattoos aren't really Smoker's vibe. You could probably convince him to get matching tattoos for say, like, your tenth wedding anniversary or something, but he'd be a little skittish about the idea before then. He certainly has a possessive streak, but it's more of you knowing that you're his, and not necessarily a need to make sure everyone else knows.

I mean, everyone else will know, but he doesn't need a tattoo or brand to get that point across.

Breeding - FUCK Yes - Pressed against the wall, bent over the couch, screaming muffled pleasure into the comforter on the bed, and trying to stifle your moans as you hold onto the balcony railing while getting railed. Smoker is going to take you rough and without a condom - your body's begging for his to be buried in you, who has time for anything else?

Wrapped in his smoke you'll swear you smell like his cigars no matter how much you wash. It's not unpleasant, but it also feels embarrassingly obvious to know that anyone else who knows what his cigars smell like is gonna know. Not that you're asking him to stop, you agreed to the arrangements after all.

Collar - Starts as a Sure turns into FUCK Yes - You're the one telling him about collars, and some of the meanings behind them in bdsm and all that, and he's not against it. He lets you pick out what you want, and reads up on safety about them, and you two incorporate it into your playtime.

At one point though, you greet him at the door after his shift, either in little more than the collar, or with it being visible along with what you're wearing (sexy surprises galore under the clothes, of course). The whole evening riles him up more than usual, and he becomes a lot more attached to collars. Eventually he even collars you almost ceremoniously during a session, having gotten a custom piece made for the occasion.

Kinky One Piece Head Canons

[lsleofthelost]

in continuation of this post, here's a more detailed look at Maleficent's castle, including the commentary from the Descendants production designer, Mark Hofeling, and also my own thoughts and obsesrvations.

"We imagined the once-mighty Maleficent humiliated and furious in defeat. Even in her fallen state, she would still require the most befitting accommodation on the Isle of the Lost. The "Bargain Castle", while hokey and ramshackle, most resembles her former keep in the Forbidden Mountains. And its balcony gives her an unobstructed view across the bay to the hated Auradon. This is the exterior of the second floor, interior set. This was digitally added to a practical ground floor at the end of the main street of the Isle of the Lost. "

"A broad view of Maleficent's cavernous, leaky, drafty cold-water walk-up in the Bargain Castle on the Isle of the Lost."

i love the peeling paint on the walls, the mismatched furniture and lamps, how weathered and aged everything is. and how this is the height of luxury for the Isle.

"Maleficent's sunken living room with her unreliable Predicta TV. It is her only link to the outside world."

the Predicta TV is from the late 50s, the screen is tiny, and, according to the commentary, the connection is unreliable. but still, in Maleficent's home, it has a special niche, and a stand, it's treated as an indulgence. there's also a vinyl player, and some records, but most of them are without sleeves, so i imagine they're scratched and skip sometimes, but Maleficent still likes them. there's a newspaper, probably a few days old, but a way to keep up with the outside world when the TV is broken.

"The mismatched sofa in Maleficent's sunken living room."

since the barges only bring in trash, we can assume that no big objects, like a sofa arive in one piece. there is also a bowl of (probably stale) froot loops (?) on the table which i think is hilarious and sad.

"A view of Maleficent's dressing area and her elevated throne. Domesticity is not among her considerable powers."

it's actually such a tiny space... like her vanity is made out of an old trunk, the lamp on it is covered with fabric, most likely because the proper lampshade is ruined. this also implies that there is not enough space for it in her bedroom... there is a tiny furnace with wood, which is used both to warm the place and to dry the clothes. the drapes are thin and totally let the light in but i think it's not such a problem on the Isle, since it's permamently overcast.

"We wanted to give Maleficent one artifact from her former, magnificent life. The director suggested maybe her throne. Unfortunately, the throne from the original animation was a 12 foot wide, 6 ton stone bat. Not a practical thing to carry into exile. So I tried to evoke the idea of that throne with a ridiculous green and purple wingback chair she might have confiscated from the Isle's Bazaar."

first off, i love that he says that it's confiscated. Maleficent doesn't buy things, but she doesn't steal them either, she just takes them because she has the power to do so. other thing i love is that as far as i understand, this is the most elevated point in the house, so she can sit on her “throne” and feel powerful.

we also see a similar rug in front of her sofa, so i assume it was probably one rug that was cut up in pieces.

the fact that there's a telephone implies that they have some kind of internal landline system on the isle, my head canon is that one of the more engineering inclined minion/scientist/wtv hooked it up. there's just a few telephones between the houses of the most powerful. the dirty, stained windows supported by old newspapers and duct tape just show how weathered everything is.

"The job of the production designer is to conceive and execute the broad look of a show. But the big picture is built out of thousands of details. I spent my weekends in Vancouver having a ball cooking up little details like Maleficent's childlike "REVENGE", "FOOLS!", and spinning wheel magnets, and her shopping and to-do lists, all stuck to her "WICKEDAIRE" refrigerator."

the real-life equivalent is a Frigidaire refrigerator from the late fifties. which, from what i've seen, seems like most of the tech on the Isle is from that time period, despite the fact that Auradon living in seemingly contemporary times, with modern technology and all that. i think they purposely don't send modern tech there, only old, barely working things there, because they know that technology could, theoretically, break the barrier (which is what Carlos does in the first book). also, i like that he calls Maleficent child-like, because i think she's definitely become that way there, bored out of her mind, every avenue for revenge lost, nothing to really keep sharp. also, if we ignore the things on her to-do list that are cartoonishly evil, the rest of the list is kind of mundane and a little pathetic... like there's something wrong with the rain gutters, she needs to call Jafar over to fix her TV antenna, since it's her only connection to the outside world... she used to be the Mistress of all Evil.

"A detail of Maleficent's poorly tuned piano."

again, the paint is peeling on the walls and on the furniture, there is no front on the piano, there is no one to even tune it. i think she still likes the music... we see what are probably magic book strewn around, potions (and probably some alcohol) on the side table.

"A detail of one of Maleficent's many broken, drafty windows."

i can't quite figure out where it's supposed to be but still, the way some windows are painted, some covered by newspaper (help together by duct tape) makes me thing that either 1. Maleficent wanted to emulate the look of stained glass from her former glory days; 2. Mal did it to make the place look better (actually, she probably did a lot of work to make the house look better?); 3. they don't want outsiders looking in, while still letting light in. i doubt that the trash telescope works, but if it does, it's probably used to spy on people, though i think it's just a vanity item.

"Maleficent's scratchy Victrola. Notice the double helix of the custom wallpaper. It evokes both Maleficent's classic thorn vine's from Sleeping Beauty and the idea of the DNA of evil. Does it pass from one generation to the next, or can one change their destiny?"

again, more books and another record player. i think Maleficent tries to dissociate from the situation, get lost in music, re-listening to the same scratchy records, re-reading the same books, re-trying the same ineffective spells.

i didn't even notice the double helix wallpaper before!! i always thought it was just a thorn pattern, referencing her story. this is such an amazing representation of how evil is embedded in the kids blood, and how despite it all they choose change.

through what we've seen, i think there's probably just a few more rooms in the castle: Maleficent bedroom, Mal's bedroom, and their bathrooms, maaaybe a smal storage room. they call it a castle but really it's just a rickety, crooked, decaying apartment on top of some shop. and this is how the most powerful person on the Isle of the Lost lives.

[clownery-and-fuckery]

soul crushing angst just for you

"You're sure you're gonna be okay?"

Hunter had spoken lowly, voice earnest. Wrecker shrugged him off, smiling. "'Course I will be, why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just that–" Hunter cast a look to Echo and Omega, who were pulling their shoes on. "–none of us have been alone since, you know."

He knew, but he immediately squashed the feelings that rose with the mention. "Hunter, I'll be fine. Just text when you're on the way home."

Hunter studied him for a moment longer, then sighed. "Alright." He pulled away, zipping up his jacket. "We won't be long."

Echo, Omega and Hunter filed out of the house, leaving Wrecker alone. Not actually alone, he knew, because Crosshair was still asleep upstairs.

Still, when the door shut, Wrecker felt alone.

He moved through the house, unsure of just how deep a sleep his younger brother was having, trying not to wake him up. He went to the kitchen, checking his phone.

He tinkered with what he could, passing the time with meaningless tasks. When the afternoon hit, Wrecker was up again, making lunch.

He was always the one on lunch duty, already absentmindedly making lunch for the others for when they decided to come back.

He set Crosshair's on a tray just outside his room, where he knew the smell of the freshly toasted bread would coax him from the sheets.

He had the others done and put away, so he picked up the other tray and walked downstairs.

He got to their extended room, originally meant to be a bedroom, but once they had gotten Hunter's van, they had insisted on keeping it indoors.

Now it served as a garage, and at one point, a work station for Tech.

Wrecker knocked on the door. Then pushed into the room. "Lunch–" He started, then stopped.

The room was empty.

It took an embarrassingly long time to remember that it would stay empty, for the rest of their lives, probably.

Wrecker stared at the unfinished projects strewn across the table, at the looped letters scribbled on plans and notes that were stuck and spread out across the workbench. He looked at the worn wood, at the blood splatters. He could recount every incident causing those splatters, in order.

The list ended as abruptly as—

Wrecker tore his gaze from the bench to the carefully packed toolbox sitting on the floor.

Tech's initials were etched into it with a messy child's scribe. Those tools were older than all of them, a gift from one of their designated social workers before they had been placed back with Nala Se.

It hadn't been a huge thing, still he cherished it. The paint had chipped and faded with age, but he wouldn't replace it.

Now, the toolbox was already collecting dust.

With a shuddering breath, and the tray forgotten, Wrecker had sunk to his knees. Hot tears welled in his eyes, blurring his view of his baby brothers beloved station.

He would never sit there again. He would never eat there again. Wrecker would never get the chance to chide him for getting grease on their cutlery, because he would never be there to do it.

Tech was never coming back.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, sobbing over the empty room. It felt so silly, such a large chunk of their house feeling so small. Without him, Wrecker felt the ache of unfinished work. Undone notes, half written sentences no one would ever understand.

He never got around to asking the right questions. The questions that led him into a speil, the ones that kept them waiting for longer than needed, the ones that, at one horrific point, made Wrecker roll his eyes.

If he could, he would travel back in time to beat himself up, screaming at him to never take their little brother for granted again. Because now that he was gone, Wrecker wanted nothing more than to listen to him.

Anything, he would give anything to hear his voice just one more time.

He heard the door creaking as it was opened, and couldn't bother to stifle his cries. He just wanted to be left alone.

"I haven't been in here since before it happened." Crosshair's voice was soft. "I thought if I was lucky, he'd come back before Hunter made us clean it."

Wrecker let out a wet laugh, nodding along as Crosshair sat down beside him. "It's quiet," Wrecker gasped out, wiping his eyes. "I had no idea how nice it was to hear the stupid sound of him tinkering."

Crosshair didn't verbally reply. "Sometimes–" Wrecker sniffed, wiping his eyes. "–sometimes I forget. That he's not here. I think my brain thinks he's still in school, that he'll be back by the evening."

Again, no response. "He's not coming back." Wrecker finished quietly. "I keep forgetting."

Crosshair took a shuttering breath. "Me too." He mumbled. "Been waiting to wake up, for him to laugh at me for having such a weird dream."

Wrecker leaned on his brother. "I miss him." His voice cracked.

Crosshair drew a sharp breath, and said nothing.

gonna be honest, this was a tough one to post, but writing it was really cathartic, so hopefully it'll reach the right people !!! I'll finish up the rest of the fic soon, so be ready for that :)

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/9/2023

the best photo i took this week

listening

i have not been keeping up with either the tuesdaypost spreadsheet or the tuesdaypost playlists so there's a strong possibility i have already talked about Joywave's It's A Trip! off the 2017 album Content. spotify

driving ten hours in one day is ideal for listening to albums and i listened to almost every joywave album on my way home from the eclipse. american indie rock band from rochester ny, i have loved them since early college. i think they were made in a lab to get to stuck in my head bc they tend toward lower register synthier tracks that deceptively amble cheerfully along and talk about dealing with fear. songs for a male protagonist to splash water on his face, look at himself in the mirror haunted by what he's seeing, linger in his children's bedroom doorways, and then drive off into the night for the finale.

i think i listened to this song for an hour on loop yesterday bc the chorus so perfectly got stuck in my brain

When you've gotten what you want (Maybe I should start over) There's nothing left to want (Up and at 'em again) You don't know what you want (Yeah, I'm thinking it over) Just tell me what to Want

they have spent a lot of time figuring out how to have longevity as a band: "The record kind of attempts to figure that out but it doesn’t end in a definitive place. For me personally, it’s just to create things that matter as long as I possibly can, and to make things that are going to outlive me that people can hang onto for at least five to six years after I’m dead." they are deeply cranky about virality/content churn, especially in this interview. i appreciate this in an artist.

could not tell you how i first found them. i think i would have to go back to the proto-tuesdayposts of 2018.

-

reading

when you're not sleeping well you can average a book a night!

Uprooted by Naomi Novik destroyed me. (image from here)

“Our Dragon doesn’t eat the girls he takes, no matter what stories they tell outside our valley. We hear them sometimes, from travelers passing through. They talk as though we were doing human sacrifice, and he were a real dragon. Of course that’s not true: he may be a wizard and immortal, but he’s still a man, and our fathers would band together and kill him if he wanted to eat one of us every ten years. He protects us against the Wood, and we’re grateful, but not that grateful.”

my best friend real-life influenced me into reading this book and i have since managed to convince four other people to read this book bc i won't shut up about it. the descriptions of the physicality of magic and how different kinds of magic and different families of spells Feel was only part of the coolest magical system ive ever read about. this is not a dark romance but it is a little brutal in a brothers grimm/this is how battles shake out sometime kind of way. i think a companion piece of media written from the Dragon's point of view would nicely parallel that post going around about how Howl's Moving Castle the movie is from Howl's point of view and Howl's Moving Castle the book is from Sophie's point of view. i would die for Agnieszka.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik (image from here)

Miryem is the daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders… but her father isn’t a very good one. Free to lend and reluctant to collect, he has loaned out most of his wife’s dowry and left the family on the edge of poverty–until Miryem steps in. Hardening her heart against her fellow villagers’ pleas, she sets out to collect what is owed–and finds herself more than up to the task. When her grandfather loans her a pouch of silver pennies, she brings it back full of gold. But having the reputation of being able to change silver to gold can be more trouble than it’s worth–especially when her fate becomes tangled with the cold creatures that haunt the wood, and whose king has learned of her reputation and wants to exploit it for reasons Miryem cannot understand.

i don't know if i've ever read a book with seven points of view before? i think it was well handled, but it required significantly more brainpower than screaming through three of kingfisher's light fantasy/romances in two days and it threw me a little. saying this book is about debts cheapens it a little, i think. it is concerned with debts but also safety, and it is very much about cost in a very fairytale way and in the horrible everyday calculus of survival way.

Swordheart, Paladin's Hope, and Paladin's Strength by T. Kingfisher. god these go down So smooth. kingfisher has a niche and i respect that. i am reading the Saint of Steel tetralogy out of order bc even four library systems can only do so much, and i don't think you particularly need to read them in order.

i'm a bit cranky that the terfs took feminist fantasy from me, bc when the protagonist got her period in Paladin's Strength a little alarm bell went off in my head and i had to put it down and google some stuff (the answer is no btw). there is a way to write female-focused lightly historical fantasy without being terfy and kingfisher does it, but it's so rare that i was genuinely expecting some sort of. weird agenda to be at play.

these were all fun, fast reads and i don't have much else to say about them! not that they are better or worse than novik's books but they will not live in my head quite as long. there are fewer tantalizing hints about systems of magic that make me want to graph things out u kno

-

watching

kanopy has Animation April as their focus this month which is how i saw The King and the Mockingbird (1980, dir. Paul Grimault) which is a longer piece adapted from something he'd been working on since the 40s.

This animated fantasy tale follows the romance between a lovely shepherdess and a handsome chimney sweep. The land's imperious king falls for the beautiful woman and tries to thwart her relationship, but a kind mockingbird assists the lovers in evading the ruler. At the king's command, the chimney sweep and his bird friend are imprisoned, and they must escape in order to rescue the young man's true love.

GOD the animation in this. there are so many references to early animation and silent film. there are so so so many gadgets and methods of conveyance in an absolutely architecturally dizzying castle. there is a ROYAL MECH that plays its own theme music. the backgrounds have a very Chuck Jones quality in that they are exactly as detailed as they need to be for the gag to work. the castle is lush and beautiful but not dizzyingly, overwhelmingly lush. there is a clear vision to every shot and a clear path your eye is meant to travel, which i appreciate very much. i think a lot of technically impressive animation (i am specifically thinking of the Nimh movies) muddies itself by trying to jam too much on the screen. just a fucking delight of a film. a delicious confection

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playing

nothing specific to say about genshin this week ur welcome

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making

painted a frame (it was a dead basic michaels frame i got at a yard sale and it was giving little boy's room) and framed a thing. this is a poster that came as a freebie with a 1997 album, and i actually bought this CD case without the CD inside bc i was so delighted with the poster. scuff sanded the frame with 120 grit, i went with a matte black acrylic bc i felt that disguised how the poster did not quite fit the frame a little better? and also bc it was what i had in the house.

i did not bother with a mat, i just used the lining paper with the stock photo and painted the back of that. do not do this with particularly valuable or beloved pieces. i do not think this is necessarily acid free and there is some danger that the paint may transfer to the back of the poster over time.

[aurorialwolf]

hwhhehehehehehhehwhw guess who has another redacted next gen oc to shareeeee :D This time, it's William's daughter!! Exciting stuff Rest below the cut so I don't spam anyone's dashes

- Her full name is Emilia (aka Emma / Emily) Solaire

- She is William's only child, and heir to his throne, as Alexis has shown disinterest in ruling and Vincent has split from the clan

- I'm not sure who here remembers, but the fandom once had made up a listener name for William's 'listener' (he doesn't and may not ever have one, but we all thought that it would be cute to make one), who was unempowered, and that's sort of who I think her other parent would be, though this current rendition of her doesn't have as strong a connection to her other parent

- Unlike the other vampire children, she was not turned by her own blood when she accessed her core at puberty, but was instead born vampiric, due to her dad's Old Blood status (the turned by own blood thing was made up by me and is not canon, vampires prob cant even reproduce in canon lmao)

- So; imagine a toddler running at vampiric speed into the most dangerous part of your backyard. This is how William feels. He should be thankful he's an old blood and can keep up lmao

- I imagine William being a somewhat good parent, but I also think he wouldn't be up to speed, and would raise his children in a more old-timey fashion (he wouldn't beat his kids at all though because I say so), which means Emilia is very,, old soul seeming. Would fit in with the bingo ladies /j (she is a littleee bit modern but doesn't have a lot of tech and is out of the loop, acts a lot different to those her age, sort of distant? learned from William how best to be regal and stuff, so she's diplomatic)

- She has a very difficult time making friends because she had vampiric status since birth, and is not able to make friends with kids her own age easily (I mean, think about trying to introduce your vampiric 8-year-old to a normal 8-year-old.. thats scary as shit)

- She's the youngest out of all the Solaire kids, being two years younger than Adrian (the oldest) and one year younger than Vivienne (not Solaire, but associated)

- She's hella bossy because she's always had high status and has a difficult time seeing others as equals because she's literally never been at their level.. Portia (Porter's kid) and Adrian (Alexis's son) are her personal guards, and she makes them entertain her

- Portia is much less afraid to speak her mind, and does so regularly, to the point that Emilia reprimands her for saying treasonous things, lol, much to the chagrin and fear of Adrian, who has been taught to revere those in higher levels of the hierarchy than him, and begrudgingly goes along with all of Emilia's orders

- Emilia also has a hard time seeing mortals as important, or at all on par with herself, as she's always been immortal, vampiric, and she sees her and her typical peers (all vampires) as eternal, or at least veryyyy long-lasting, and simply views mortals as a blip in her likely long life. She grows out of this, with Samuel's (Sam and Darlin's kid) help, as he is part mortal, and helps her see the importance and power of mortals via the Shaw Pack, who is still aligned with the clan in the future (in my mind at least) though she's always still a bit high-and-mighty

Now onto the interesting plot for her personal storyline :3

- Once she reaches ~18, she decides she wants the throne, and conspires to overthrow her father. She recruits her guards and outside players to help her, so there's herself, Portia, Adrian, Samuel Jr., and Vivienne.

- Samuel only agreed because she promised that, if she came into power, she would ensure the safety of the Shaw Pack by devoting some of her people to protect them, instead of just using the reach of her power to imply protection (cough cough William), and yk, she certainly knows how to get Samuel under her thumb because it immediately worked lmao

- Vivienne agreed because Samuel did, and she harbours more loyalty to the Solaire House than she would generally let on, secretly desiring a place among vampiric peers, having been denied that since her turning.

- So, their plan goes as such; (let me clarify they are totally underestimating him and are overconfident lmao) - Samuel will take out Porter early, to prevent interference - Alexis will not be around on the day they plan to execute this, so she isn't factored in - They will catch William while he's doing his usual walk through the woods in his remote estate, when he is unlikely to have a way of contacting help with him, and is too far away from Dahlia to escape to safety - Samuel will be the first to attack, given his general magical prowess, granting him an advantage in distracting William, and a better chance to evade initial parries. He also has a source of daemon / demon blood, and will coat the edge of his sword in it, which will severely weaken William - Adrian and Portia will come up next, them and Samuel forming a triangle to contain William in the area, slowly weathering down his defenses - Vivienne will be taking her time throughout this to charge up a strong burst of electro magic, and will wait until the perfect opening to unleash it directly on him, hopefully immobilizing him, given that he already has da/emon blood in his system. - Then, they will surround him, and Emilia will come up, manipulating blood magic to keep him disadvantaged (since I hc William has formed the ability to control Solaire blood, and his daughter has also learned to do so) - Then, she politely asks for the crown, and should he refuse, they kill him (atp, if everything goes right, he will be severelyyy weakened by the da/emon blood and the lightening strike, making this somewhat possible) - Bam! Throne is taken easy as pie There's multiple possible endings;

1. She gets the crown without fuss because William doesn't mind granting it to her (after he's been defeated)

2. He gives them a run for their money but eventually agrees, but is not defeated at any point

3. They somehow manage to kill him, and she ascends to the throne with blood on her hands

4. He defeats them, and imprisons all of them, granting mercy but insisting on rehabilitation of some kind

5. He defeats all of them and is not merciful, only sparing Emilia and possibly Vivienne (given she's the least dangerous and not in the clan), he's a bit biased lol Number 5 is unlikely, 2 and 4 are most probable (depending on how well things go) Taglist: @vegafan69 @darlin-collins @kxemii @professionallyyappin @sereh624

[tourneys-by-me]

Multiple Elements Character Tournament - Round 1 (A) 2/12

Propaganda under the cut (spoilers for The Sexy Brutale)

Cure Magical: None :(

Lafcadio Boon: Heavy spoilers in this. He goes through so much. He has to watch his friends get murdered horribly over and over again over the course of a single day. He can't even warn them that they're going to die because he gets chased by their masks and the masks of the staff members who are going to murder them. He has to save them by interacting with the loop outside of their view. The only time he gets to talk to his friends is after he saves them when they take their masks off, but even then, the loop resets afterwards, and they go back to dying again. The big reveal of the game is that he is actually Lucas Bondes, the Marquis of the mansion. Forty years ago, he blew up the mansion to get the insurance money to give his wife and unborn child a new life, but the timers on the bombs went off too early, when all of his friends, his wife, and himself were all still inside. He was the only survivor, and since then, he has tormented himself with the time loop of his friends being murdered inside his mind as a way of remembering them. Lafcadio was one of his friends, a priest, and a father figure to him. He took his form inside the mansion in his mind because he was representative of the fact that he was finally reaching a point where he could forgive himself for what happened.

[nanomooselet]

Final Phase: Cycles

First up, I'll draw attention to the way the episodes are numbered and ordered. They only had twelve to work with, so they would have had to be very careful, especially in a story so heavy with symbolism.

Most Anglosphere stories adhere to the three-act-structure, in some form. It's so common and ingrained to the public consciousness that when it isn't there, the audience can feel uncomfortable. As though there's been a contract broken, an expectation unfulfilled. As if something isn't right. It's been waaaaaay too long since my days studying theatre to give specific examples, but this discomfort can be used purposefully so the audience will view the play with emotional detachment. (IIRC it's a thing in Epic theatre. Again, this was many years ago and I hated Epic theatre.)

Anyway, in the very simplest form, you have the first act (introduction), the second (complication) and the third (resolution). Establish the characters and setting, introduce the problem, then resolve it. There are about a bazillion variations, more elaborate expressions, but that's what it comes down to.

Beginning, middle, end.

In Stampede, the first act (introduction) ends with episode three, ushering in the second (complication, also known as Millions Knives, also known as The Problem). Episode four introduces Wolfwood the undertaker because four is commonly associated with bad luck and death in Japanese culture. Then six/seven for his backstory and major development. Episode eight then begins the third act (resolution) as details of the twins' backstories are unveiled, giving context to events up to that point and setting everything up for the climax.

All very standard so far, up until...

The finale is episode twelve, but it's numbered zero. And yes, that could very well be because this is a kind of prologue or prequel.

But it might not only be that.

A clock face has twelve hours. At noon or midnight, the time ticks over from eleven to zero. And as I discovered, there's a certain... suggestion of being reset back to zero, of repetition, in the composition.

Once I noticed, it became more and more obvious it had to be deliberate. This doesn't all feel so familiar only because it's a re-telling of the story, but because it's a loop. A cycle. Birth, death, rebirth.

Nothing changes. Everything repeats.

And I think all the characters are aware of it on some level, but especially Vash. He and his siblings are beings outside of time.

When Roberto says Meryl and Vash are "not long for this world", and the worm dudes refer to Wolfwood as a dead man walking? That's what they mean.

They're trapped souls.