#can't believe it's been two months of this endeavour now

[aziraphales-library]

The requests for Christmas fics have started to come in... far, far too late. Remember folks, it takes us months to answer asks and then they're in the queue for a while before publishing.

Luckily this blog is a resource, not simply an ask blog. We already have a #christmas tag you can check for fics we've recommended before!

As a little bonus, here are a few new fics from this year...

City Of Blinding Lights by ShadesOfDeviant (G)

“Well, I sometimes—that is to say—I often considered an early evening walk round the area to see the lights quite the romantic endeavour. Arm in arm under the glow of the fairy lights, I even have a route planned out for should I ever get the chance to go.” “Should you ever get the chance?” Crowley snorts in a way that would be unattractive to almost anyone other than Aziraphale before he folds his newspaper in half and then half again, and casually tosses it onto the coffee table beside him. “You need to be a bit more subtle when you’re aiming for a temptation angel.” He adds with a quick wink before he rolls up onto his feet. AKA: Aziraphale has always wanted to go on a romantic evening walk round London to see all the Christmas lights. Now free of Heaven & Hell and able to openly express his feelings for Crowley, Aziraphale can't think of a better time to implement a plan nearly 40 years in the making.

A Dream Is A Soft Place To Land (may we all be so lucky) by randomramblingsofme (T)

Crowley feels as if the universe won't let him get his feet back under him. He has no plan, is juggling two jobs, coping with chronic pain from an old injury, expertly (so he thinks) hiding a raging crush on the bookseller across the street, and he is currently covered in tree sap. But things could be worse. For example, he could forget all about the Whickber Street Christmas party being hosted by said crush until five minutes beforehand. Oh shit. --- Modern AU, Barista Crowley/Bookseller Aziraphale

Eggnog and Effervescence by RepQueen15 (T)

Crowley turned so as to be able to watch the rest of the movie, and his ear pressed against Aziraphale’s thigh. He felt the angel tremble a little, as though this weren’t just some small service to him either, though that was nothing short of ridicule. Or perhaps…? No. This was just Aziraphale being his perfect, soft self. Though maybe, just maybe, Crowley wasn’t the only one who needed a little more physical contact in his life. *** Crowley and Aziraphale spend a quiet Christmas Eve putting up fairy lights, getting tipsy on eggnog, watching ridiculous Christmas movies and... cuddling.

Here’s a Hand (My Dearest Friend) by perilit (T)

Wherein Crowley allows himself to be comforted in the days leading up to the Christmas holiday, and repays with some comforting of his own.

I’m Dreaming of a Light (and Dark) Christmas by cheeseplants (T)

Aziraphale had begun plotting his revenge a few days after the encounter with the man he had begun to refer to as the demon in his head. Not that he was a vengeful person. He was a good and righteous person who believed it was important to bring light into people's lives. Lights, in fact. Several of them. _______ Two shopkeepers with very different ideas about Christmas battle it out on Whickber Street to create the most extravagant Christmas lights in London. But when the lights go out, they start to find they may have more in common than they first thought. An enemies to lovers human-AU Christmas decorations feud!

If the Fates Allow by catherineland (T)

Crowley makes a shocking discovery: Aziraphale claims to hate Christmas. Crowley’s new mission is to show his angel what he’s been missing.

- Mod D

[moonselune]

I personally believe that dragonic sorcerers have periods where they basically go into a rut/heat and make a whole nest.... So I’m saying that in that one story you did, Shadowheart would not have been seen for at least a month. And when she and Tav reappear she is one very happy lady, covered in love bites and filled with cum love.

However, I think that this would be the third or fourth time she had helped her husband with his broody time. They’ve already settled down, have a nice little fortune to live off, and Shadowheart just up and tells Tav “I want a baby, so next time during your season knock me up,” or something or the sort.

But anyways; can you write this as smut?

Okay! So, didn't write this as smut, ended up as fluff, my bad whoops anyways hope you enjoy it x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart x Draconic!Sorceror!reader | This time..

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart and you had settled into a comfortable routine. Your adventures had brought you wealth, and now you enjoyed the peace and luxury that came with a life of stability. It was during one of these quiet evenings, the two of you nestled together in your cozy home, that Shadowheart dropped a bombshell.

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. You were reclining on the plush sofa, Shadowheart curled up against your side. Her head rested on your shoulder, her hand absently tracing patterns on your chest. You had just finished recounting an old adventure when she turned her face up to you, her eyes serious and intent.

“Darling,” she began, her voice soft yet firm. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

You looked down at her, curious. “Oh? About what?”

She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. “I want a baby. Next time during your season, knock me up, make sure I can't walk for a week afterwards.”

The bluntness of her words took you by surprise. You blinked at her, processing the sudden shift in conversation. “You… want a baby?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding decisively. “I want to start a family with you. We’ve been through so much together, and I feel like this is the next step for us.”

You felt a surge of emotions at her declaration. Joy, excitement, and a profound sense of love for the woman beside you.

“Why wait until my season?” you asked, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “If you’re sure about this, we can start right now.”

Shadowheart’s eyes widened, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “Right now?”

“Right now,” you confirmed, leaning in to kiss her softly. “I don’t want to waste another moment.”

Shadowheart responded eagerly, her hands tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss. The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thick with anticipation and desire. You shifted, gently lowering her onto her back, your body hovering over hers.

Your hands roamed over her body, your touch gentle yet insistent. Shadowheart arched into you, her breath coming in soft gasps as you worshipped her with your kisses and caresses. Her skin was warm and smooth under your fingers, her body pliant and eager.

As you touched her, there was a new intensity, a deeper connection and desire. Every touch, every kiss, was imbued with the knowledge that you were creating something beautiful together. The thought of starting a family with Shadowheart filled you with a fierce, protective love, that only served to fuel you in your.. endeavours.

After a night of pure passion, you and Shadowheart lay entwined in each other’s arms, the soft glow of the embers in the fireplace casting flickering shadows across the room. You were both breathless, hearts pounding with a mixture of exhilaration and tenderness.

You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow to gaze down at Shadowheart, who looked up at you with a contented smile. Her fingers lazily traced the scales on your chest, the warmth of her touch sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

“I think it worked,” you murmured, your voice laced with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, her smile turning into a playful smirk. “Already claiming victory, are we?”

You chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. “I have a good feeling about this,” you insisted, lowering your head to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Our little one is on the way.”

She let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking her head fondly. “You and your instincts,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Well, I suppose time will tell.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I just wanna squish her so bad, hope y'all enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

[epickiya722]

I do not know if it was you, or another blogger that made a character analysis of Gojo that made me like the character and discover more about him through the manga.

While I never read the manga before or watched the anime, I had been exposed to it by my friends and some BNHA bloggers. Back then, I found Gojo to be overhyped (discount Kakashi) while liking the animation(?) style, bit still no interest.

BNHA and its Endeavour Redemption arc in the doing was tiring me to the point that I stopped reading it and manga altogether. For mayne six months or so, until now, at least. I randomly found your blog last week , and it got me a new hyper fixation 😃. You got me to start reading JJK (Megan cos playing also helps).

I bought Number 0 and Number 1 of the mangas. Only to remember midway in Number 0 that Walmart Kakashi will be snapped in two like a Kit Kat🥲. I saw that leak in one of the BNHA blogs, and I didn't mind it back then since I wasn't in the fandom, but Lord, now it sucks.

Anyways, all this long rant to say that I like reading your posts.

Gojo, rest in pain, I guess?

Probably was someone else, I don't write much analysis posts about Gojo. I think once or twice I did, I can't recall. Probably reblogged one though you saw!

I don't know, they're really just two different characters to me. Also... I was never really an active reader or watcher of Naruto like that (just very familiar) so when I first saw Gojo, Kakashi didn't register to me at all.

Like, I did not get similar vibes at all. And it actually annoys me that people will be like "He copied Kakashi's flow"! Kakashi ain't the only white haired, face covering character out there with magical eyes, y'all stop. 😆

Even funnier when, by this point, Gojo has probably been unmasked more than he has been wearing something on his face and switches up what he puts on his face. Kakashi been wearing the same mask for...? Also, didn't it take years for Kakashi's whole face to be shown or something? Took like seven episodes for Gojo to show that face.

**

I always been a fan of Megan's music and then when I found out she was into anime I was like "YYYYYEEEEEAAAAH". She cosplayed as Miruko one Halloween and it made my year. I am a former believer that Miruko would vibe to her music.

Just seeing other Black women being unapologetic fans of anime (or anything) does wonders for me and I hate it when people act as if it's such a foreign idea to understand. Honey, we can have interests, too, like everyone else. It's normal.

**

I always try to be careful about spoilers for anything I'm into. Like, I can talk about a chapter that happened two years ago, but I'll still mark as a spoiler because I know some people don't read Mangas or even if they do haven't caught up to that specific part.

That actually what set me off when Usher cosplayed as Gojo because he literally put "rest in peace, Gojo" or something along those lines and the amount of people who weren't even aware of 236... like bro, come on.

I knew it just had to be a marketing tactic because I know damn well Usher ain't seen JJK a day in his life and how convenient it is he comes out with that cosplay around the time when "Daddy's Home" becomes a fairly popular song used in Gojo's edits. I can't go watching one video on YouTube without hearing that song play when Gojo pops up. And even if he has... WHY WOULD YOU TAG IT LIKE THAT?!

Oh, but Megan definitely doesn't know any of the characters she be cosplaying, alright... okay... 🙄

I'm just going off on a whole tangent here, I apologize for that. I've been sick for like three days and just woke up from a nap. 😅

**

Also, thank you! Glad you enjoy my posts!! Anytime anyone says they like reading my posts, I still get shocked. They're really are just random thoughts I been having and really I'm still learning grasping the characters and story myself. And this is just for any. I don't even for them to get read, let alone for anyone to actually agree with me. I guess because, at the end of the day, I really just needed to throw a thought out there before I lose it or keep rethinking about it over and over.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Content warnings for this chapter: implied violence, threats, implied sa references

@justalunaticfangirl

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55445686/chapters/140788939

Chapter 3 - Nina

“So just to be clear,” said Nina, leaning back in her chair and studying Kaz across the desk, “All you want us to do is act like students? What the hell kind of job is this?” 

Nina had been in Ketterdam for five months, and she’d considered strangling Kaz Brekker with her bare hands about three times in each of them. And considering that she could just stop his heart if she wanted to, it was a particular statement to just how infuriating he was that she would be willing to put in the effort of strangling him. She’d told him that once, and he took it as a compliment.

“You heard me,” he picked up one of the forged papers Nina and Inej had brought in with them, that were now sitting on his desk, “Use your own names, it’s only more suspicious if you get caught not answering to a fake and no-one there should recognise you anyway,”

“You might have told us that before Specht drew the papers up,” Inej sighed, “Will he be able to change them?”

“Should be,” Kaz tapped the corner of the page in his hand against the desk, and Nina caught her gaze flicking to his black leather gloves, “All you need to do is act like you belong and try to get close to the mark,”

The mark. Nina had thought she spoke Kerch when she landed in this Saintsforsaken city, but talking to Kaz and the rest of the Barrel may as well have been learning a brand new dialect. 

“For how long?”

“As long as proves necessary,”

Nina really was going to strangle this boy. She sighed.

“You’ll have to subsidise my income,”

“You’ll get paid when they job’s done,”

“That’s not good enough,” she said smoothly, ignoring the glance Inej shot her, “You can’t put me out of work for an indeterminate amount of time and not expect me to need the money for it,”

Nina was scraping by as it was. Her salary from the White Rose wasn’t bad, though it could be better, but her commission from the Tailoring was appallingly low and any spare cash she managed to strap together quickly drained away in the endeavours she was refusing to believe she’d reached a dead end in. Kaz nodded.

“We’ll discuss it,”

Inej leaned forwards to collect one of the papers, saying something to Kaz. Nina couldn’t help but wonder why the girl had been put on this job - this wasn’t her specialty, far as Nina could tell, and it didn’t seem to make any difference to the job whether there were one or two of them working on it. Mind you, Nina was glad to know she’d have company and Inej was about the best company she could have hoped for. 

“It’s listed in your application that you’ll require a tutor for written Kerch,” Kaz was telling her, “But I can pull that if you feel you don’t need it,”

Inej glanced at Nina. She spoke Kerch perfectly well, though Nina knew she’d learnt most of it at the Menagerie and there were occasional gaps in her knowledge even of words she would use every day at home - as well a collection of words she only knew in Kerch, that no classroom ever would have taught her - but she was still learning to read the language. Nina had been trying to help her, but she wasn’t convinced that her calling was as a teacher and sometimes wondered if she was actually hindering her. 

“Up to you,” said Nina, in Ravkan, “If you think-”

“Excuse me,” Kaz interrupted in cool Kerch, tapping the table, “Perhaps we can keep this discussion in a language we all understand?”

“Perhaps you could bother to learn another language,” Nina muttered in Ravkan, winking at Inej when she saw her smile.

Making Inej smile felt like winning something; she didn’t seem to have reason to smile nearly often enough. Kaz finished giving them the bare bones of the plan, which was really no more information than they already had or could have guessed at, and Nina and Inej left his office with copies of their enrolment papers in hand. 

“Will Feliks really be happy to let you go for an indeterminate time?” asked Inej, as they walked downstairs together.

Not a chance. But he wouldn’t have much of a say in it.

“I don’t think ‘happy’ would be the right word,” she sighed, “but it’s Haskell who has the last word on wherever I go, and Kaz’s word is an extension of his. Feliks is just my employer, he’s not the one I’m in debt to,”

Inej’s shoulders squared, perhaps uncomfortably, and Nina cursed herself for not biting her tongue a sentence sooner. But the moment passed quickly, and they continued walking together in easy comfort. Nina checked the time - eight bells. She’d have to get back. Inej walked her to the door of the Slat, and as they reached the front Nina briefly squeezed her fingers before she made to leave.

“Sleep,” she told her.

Inej smiled.

“I will if you will,”

Nina shivered as she stepped into the evening air; even her jumper was not enough to keep the cold away. Ketterdam she thought dismissively, rubbing a hand up and down one of her arms. She sighed. This job was making her nervous - it sounded suspiciously easy. What was Kaz after? And what was he getting them into this time?

“Hey gorgeous,”

Nina looked up to see Jesper crossing towards her, and gave him a smile.

“Hey. How’s the arm?”

She nodded vaguely at the spot a little above Jepser’s elbow, where she’d fixed a bullet graze for him not too long ago. Seemingly unconsciously, his hand found the point on his sleeve that the freshly closed skin was hiding beneath and his fingers ran along it.

“Good as new,” he smiled.

“Well,” Nina winked, “I am good,”

Jesper smiled. He was wearing a shockingly dull outfit for him - the only splash of colour, the shimmer of the gems in his mismatched gold and silver rings - and he wasn’t wearing his gun belt. It only took a brief glance to realise he was still carrying his prized revolvers, Nina would probably have been concerned for his health if he wasn’t, but they were hidden beneath his jacket and she wondered why.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, before she could get her own questions in.

Nina avoided the Slat and the Crow Club whenever she could; this hellhole was a means to an end and she didn’t need to sink any lower into it than she already had.

“Talking to Kaz about a job. Where’ve you been?”

“Hell,” he said drily, “But as much as I’d love to chat, I have a shift to get to and I want to get changed before it starts,”

“Don’t let me keep you,” she replied, hopping down the last few steps, “I’ll see you soon,”

It wasn’t a particularly short walk back to the White Rose. Nina headed North as she left the Slat, following the canals as she moved from East Stave onto West. Here the world changed. The streets were alive, because they were alive at almost every hour, with tourists and locals alike dressed in every colour under the sun, their faces hidden beneath masks of the Komedie Brute. It was said - and Nina more than believed it - that the normality of the masks gave people confidence like nothing else. They were themselves, once they were hiding. People would come to West Stave looking for oblivion, sometimes even just to watch the crowds more than sample any of the entertainment for themselves. Or at least that’s what plenty of them liked to claim, anyway. Nina was less convinced by that.

She slipped along the edge of a crowd, trying to dodge between patrons clamouring for attention or downing the drink that was finally going to tip them over into too many. Someone dressed as the Scarab Queen dropped an empty bottle and giggled when it shattered at their feet, whilst Nina tried to pick her way through the broken glass and keep moving. On her way back yesterday, she’d found her arm grabbed by a masked stranger and had to panickedly plunge his heartbeat and knock him out before she hurried onwards, but it seemed she would be luckier today as Goedmed bridge came into view ahead and Nina knew she was almost back. She had to catch herself from thinking almost home. It was an easy habit to slip into, when referring to the place you slept every night. But Nina was several long weeks of travelling away from home, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to go back. 

A street performer was shouting something to a gathering crowd, drawing attention with close-up magic tricks before he made some grand announcement and splayed his hands towards an explosion of glitter. When the purple monstrosity had cleared enough that only a shimmer was left in the air, the crowd gasped and applauded at the apparently magical appearance of an acrobat dangling over the canal. A Suli girl, younger than Nina, hanging upside down from a collection of wires with her slender body barely covered by more purple glitter and alarmingly thin scraps of fake silk, her extended arm revealing the swirling tattoo of the Willow Switch. Nina shuddered, and kept walking. 

The White Rose almost looked more like one of the grand townhouses than it did a brothel; tall and slender, with its own dock, a pale facade, and a magnificent collection of white-petaled roses growing up the walls. The smell of the flowers was cloying, hanging over everything and refusing to let go. Nina may very well be stuck smelling of them for the rest of her life, even if she did ever get out of this town. 

“My house girls are as sweet as my roses,” Feliks had told her when she first moved in, clapping his hand over her shoulder uncomfortably.

It had been clear even then that it was a line he liked to feed, but Nina had also since learnt that the roses he used - according to Kaz, the only ones that were strong enough to survive year-round in the hardy weather of Ketterdam - were naturally scentless. Every flower was perfumed by hand, on constant rotation, by the boys and girls in white uniforms who tended to food and drink or anything else clients might need beyond what they had really come for. Some of them were indentured; Nina didn’t know how many, but considering the number of the house girls who were thus she guessed it was a good number. Then again, if that was the case then why did Feliks just have them perfuming roses? His facade was thin enough for her to feel certain he’d be making proper money off the kids if he could. It was part of Nina’s job to Tailor them, paling their skin and turning their hair and irises a vague white - in Feliks’ own words, so that all the decor matched. She slipped them cash, if she could spare it, whilst they were in with her, same with the occasional house girl who needed Healing. It didn’t happen often, but it happened.

But the White Rose was undeniably safer than most, if not all, of the other houses on the Stave - for Nina, at the very least, and as much as it gnawed anxiously in her gut she had to keep herself alive and safe before she started trying to do the same for anyone else - and she had not borne witness to anything like the stories she’d heard of the buildings opposite her and down the street. The girls here were safer, even if they weren’t safe.

She couldn't go through the front door looking like this - messy and out of costume and so on - so she slipped down the side of the building. She actually wasn’t sure if she was supposed to use the front at all; she never had because she never left or returned to the building in the fake kefta she couldn’t enter the lobby without. She’d only seen girls use the front door when clients who’d paid to take them from the building were whisking them away or returning them again, arms often slipped through arms, the girls’ fake giggles and batting lashes somehow fooling them. Maybe they were just willing to be fooled, ready to ignore anything that would crack their illusion. That was what they came for, wasn’t it? A pretty lie. Oblivion. 

As she reached the back of the building, the ugly outline of the Menagerie came into view on the other side of the canal; taller than most of the buildings surrounding it, structured like a tiered birdcage. It was the largest and most expensive house on the Stave, shimmering even as darkness began to close its heavy blanket over the city like a forest fire reflected by a mirrorball. How long since Inej left that place - six months? Seven? Maybe a little longer; she had already seemed to trust Kaz Brekker - if trust was really the right word - when she appeared through a window at the Emerald Palace five months ago and convinced Nina not to take the deal Pekka Rollins’ was offering her. She probably owed Inej her life, for that. Or maybe Kaz, but that was the far more disappointing option of the two. 

Most of it was obscured by other buildings across the canal but where the lower floor of the Menagerie was almost entirely open, held up the columns that became akin to the bars of the birdcage, Nina could see the blurring edge of a girl lying on a sofa. Someone in the red cape of Mr Crimson approached and she slipped her hand into theirs as she sat up slowly, her neckline slipping off her shoulder. The wind picked up and blew goosebumps down Nina’s neck as she turned quickly away to slip through the back door, her mind foolishly concerned that the girl was going to catch a cold in those scant silks.

“Nina,” began Adrian, as soon as she stepped inside.

“I know,” she breathed, quickly hurrying towards the staff staircase, “I’m a little late, but I was with Brekker. I have half an hour, it’ll be fine,”

“No, it’s not that,” he sounded nervous.

Nina turned back to face him. Adrian was about two years younger than Nina, she reckoned, and before she’d started Tailoring him his wide, dark eyes had made him look akin to a doe. Now they were pale and slightly unnerving, but as someone for whom Tailoring did not come as easily as it did others she thought she’d done a decent job. He fidgeted with the sleeve of his white shirt, threatening to mark the cuffs if he wasn’t careful.

“He scheduled you three more clients, this evening,”

Nina resisted the urge to scream. When had she last slept? Apparently it would have to wait. The rich of Ketterdam having their minds relaxed and their emotions altered took precedence over anything else, and definitely her.

“Fine. Who?”

“That might be the concerning part,” Adrian shuffled, “Two folks from the Zelvar District, one who’s been before, one I didn’t recognise,”

Not much of a problem. And if it was a first visit then maybe it would be more of a consultation about what they wanted than it would be actually altering moods. Maybe it would be marginally less tiring. But Adrian still looked nervous, and his voice had trailed away.

“The third?” she prompted.

Adrian bit his lip.

[proxyedgy]

So, a few months ago I remembered Houseki no Kuni was a cool thing I watched once upon a time and decided to look up the manga. And then I read it. Past where the anime adapted. Up to chapter 75, then I stopped because I am not in the state of mind to periodically wait for unfinished stories like I did in high school, so I'd rather stop at a pleasant point and wait a good while to pick it back up.

And, all's well and good. I had a good time and am still extremely invested in whatever new way this author decides to break my heart with. Catharsis and stuff. Yep.

But then comes November, I go to an anime event. With the intention of buying myself something. With my own money. Which I am stingy about because I mostly use to buy food since I hate cooking-- Bottom line, I am walking around. There is hardly any merch I would like to have. Still, I am having a good time being on my own and going at my own pace. There is a manga stand.

There is Houseki no Kuni. First two volumes. Translated in Portuguese. They have holographic covers. I buy before even asking the price. This is a historical event. I can count on one hand the number of manga I adore that get translated, and that number is now three.

I come home. I look up the publishing house website. There are more. I buy then in the beginning of december like a happy joyful idiot and they take far too long to get to my hands because of a silly little detail called xmas. Never heard of it, to be honest.

And now, now, finally, after all hope was lost, I received my package. Brought it home in quite the mood. Forgot to have dinner and am now suffering a headache because it was just oh so important to read the same story I read before, only with far higher quality than the scans I found online. And in portuguese. Have I mentioned that?

There is, a certain quirk, let's say, with portuguese. A detail that almost clashes with this particular story. Because this is, after all, a story about gorgeous gemstone people who are very much agender lesbians. And portuguese, a very unromantic language, absolutely loathes the idea of not gendering every word and concept. Therefore, when translated, all of the gemstones use he/him pronouns. I can't explain how that makes me feel, but it is a happy feeling, or at least so I'm inclined to believe. Male pronouns, female androgyny. Interesting choice.

Quite a lot of choices are make when adapting this kind of material and they were a joy to notice, I'll say. The way the word "sensei" has been translated, but his name remained as "Kongou", unlike every other gemstone. A peculiar detail, a good hint, shows the care put into this. The gems themselves, many pleasant words to see in my own tongue, some of which I had never read before and made me wish I had a class on gemstone geology. The more delicate moments, like turning the original "fu-an" syllables of the lunarian speak into something else while retaining the wind sound.

My, the work of an adaptation, it's such a creative endeavour. Translators have it hard, but to see something go a step beyond to be accessible in another language, in my language, like this, I have nothing but respect for every choice made.

And not to mention, how different it is, to have the book in your hands. Manga does not retain the scent I find familiar and comforting from my childhood and teenage years, but their rough pages offer quite a nice experience too. And, most of all, I find myself scanning them for details more easily, being far more absorbed into the lines when I can hold them close to my face like this.

This manga is quite a beauty. The lines are so simple, and that makes it so much easier to follow. The best part, however, is the sheer number of wide panels. Blacked out panels, with white lines. I've never seen a story that plays with panels like that. I love every single one. There is such a sense of shock, and scale, and emptiness, and feelings which I can't name. It's great, really.

Now, pacing, that is the despicable evil that makes me ramble so much. Because it's one of those stories, that ends every chapter with a cliffhanger, and it's such a tall cliff, I am indeed holding the thread from which these characters hang over this tremendous fall. I know the story, I know what happens, I read it recently, it's fresh in memory. Yet, yet, I am shaking right now, because the last volume translated ends, like every other before, in a scene so utterly tense that I cannot reach catharsis through any means other than complaining.

Yes, this was all a huge complaint, yet still I cannot bring myself to dislike even a single thing. The first time I saw this story, it felt mean-spirited, in some way I couldn't articulate at the time. It is, truly, stained in hopelessness, however that is not the same as despair. As I read it now, perhaps I understand it better, even if the sting still hurts the same every time. It brings up frustrations, and annoyance, and impatience. It's a story that begs for what-ifs, but couldn't proceed any other way. I find that true for all my favorite tales, so I suppose it's just fair that this one gets my number three spot.

I love, love, love you, Houseki no Kuni, Land of the Lustrous, Terra das Gemas.

[collymore]

The love story is over! And realistically, this marriage has ended!

By Stanley Collymore  

It does seem, that the Palace PR and the MSM sycophants do think that by keeping Kate's name in the headlines people generally, and the serfs specifically, will basically feel this workshy bitch's absence less. Personally, I'm very gradually, coming around to the quite sensibly, bandied suggestion that the police should do a welfare check, to simply ascertain, if Kate is still around since she's not been rather believably seen now for really approaching five months; Lol. Factually Kate is simply regrettably still there, but is embarrassedly for her distinctively out of public sight because her obviously, discernibly very stalkingly, contrived marriage is clearly effectually over; dead as a dodo! And even most relative to all those of you that have actually quite evidently asininely, together with being basically, undoubtedly ridiculous, by so keenly awarding Kate her saintly imprimatur; truly it must be for Kate, as it will also unquestionably be for the surfeit of you sycophants and distinctly braindead aficionados that saint though she pathetically, actually is in your sick minds Kate rather relative to her failed marriage is unable to raise, a Lazarus style significant resurrection, thereof.

And very evidently with you serf clowns and also brainwashed, gullible and unquestionably intellectually challenged morons rather persuaded as well as actually, innately believing that this undeniably was the marriage of all ages; this obsessively social climbing, stalking racist Karen rampant gold digger, and bone idled, work shy prat is too embarrassed to show her face publicly; as recurrent persistent solitary engagements by her alone, as by William discernibly by himself; just as those joint ones they face savingly, endeavoured to embark on would evidently quickly alert those, who can actually think for themselves and specifically as well, astutely clearly see with very unblinkered, and literally, crucially non-prejudicial eyes, that actually these two were simply effectively quite undoubtedly, going through the motions as Charles was with Diana and with an identical body language. For basically in actual honest to goodness real life you simply can't actually, indefinitely fake crucially, non-existent love!

(C) Stanley V. Collymore 28 April 2024.

Author's Remarks: Put rather bluntly and unequivocally from me neither Kate nor Charles has cancer or anything that's even remotely to it. It's all a barefacedly contrived, manipulated and, as well, a cynically exploitative lie.

What's really wrong from their sick, no pun intended, and very self-entitled perspective is that rather obviously to those who aren't sycophantic serfs and gullible morons, the distinctly, quite simply very literally fraught marriage distinctively between William and Kate is fundamentally over. In undoubtedly Germanic terms, bearing in mind their very Germanic family roots, Kaput! A distinctly, quite defunct marriage in all regards other than there is no formal divorce that rather evidently William wants, Kate obviously is not the least bit keen on, and specifically so all the stalking enterprise she not only engineered but quite assiduously simply enthusiastically got involved in.

With his worryingly Jimmy Savile -esque interest in Kate, the alleged daughter he never had and asininely harangued Diana for not producing him with, as if he Charles didn't have anything whatsoever to do with his own wife's conception; Charles doesn't want a divorce between William and Kate. Hence the cancer, clearly bullshit narrative and basically vile, odious, wilfully, blatantly lying deceptions by himself and obviously his distinctly favourite surrogate daughter cum daughter in law.

Jointly on the discernible part of Kate and Charles along with those in this distinctly odious deception, like their buddies in the MSM and the usual surrogates who we all know of, to milk public sympathy, for all, it is worth; and ostensibly to put pressure on William not to ditch, this undoubtedly third choice of a wife: two other candidates he'd proposed to did turn him down, and clearly remain with Kate. Charles however, for his part, having waited so long to be monarch, has no intention of abdicating in favour of William as Margrethe of Denmark did, so that her aggrieved daughter in law would not leave her adulterously cheating spouse as she very happily settled for being queen herself.

Rather interestingly in all of this the clearly identical morons who were unquestionably very unflattering about Kate along with the MSM, remember the Waite Katie tag and much more who literally after the arrival of Meghan, suddenly became aficionados of this woman purely, whether they choose to deny it or not, because she's white and not an African American despoiling their rather unique monarchy with her basically inferior presence; circa Liz Jones of the Daily Mail for example among countless others.

I shan't be labour these issues as my open views are well known nor am I effectively  going to play your silly games either and gratuitously bring Meghan, Harry or their children into this for the kind of fatuously indulged in idiotic and childish games that your sort love to play; coupled  obviously with your pathetic obsession with Meghan which even shows itself transparently, in your pathetically poor English, even when the article in question has quite absolutely nothing to do with Meghan!

But what does have me in stitches of very refreshing laughter is knowing, that all of those from the Desperate Four of Charles, Camilla, William and Kate herself who've done their level best to destroy Harry and Meghan's marriage and are still effectively desperately doing their very best to simply achieve that goal, together quite obviously with their MSM chums, and actually failing quite pathetically in their sick endeavours,  are now literally confronted with the rather  undeniably, discernibly unflattering task of having to break the news that St. Kate has lost her allure and Phillip Schofield-esque William isn't interested anymore! Lol!

And how curiously interesting that all of these MSM body language experts who are always pontificating about Harry and Meghan's supposedly distinctly troubled relationship and how their marriage isn't going to last - because that's what they want obviously and have done from the very actual outset of Harry and Meghan's wedding - can't detect that William hasn't the slightest bloody physical or emotional interest any longer in Kate. Could this be down to the quite discernible fact these so-called experts are either Queers, Dykes or paedophiles who’ve quite obviously not got the foggiest concept of what a loving and natural heterosexual relationship, as per that of Harry and Meghan, is really all about?

Therefore, their rather biased assumptions are based wholly entirely on their own very perverted relationships!

Detailed researchers like myself know very well who, among those in the Windsor own family, are strictly heterosexual even if very adulterously so with it; who are effectively outright Queers and Dykes; and those that bat both ways. So don't any of you attempt to actually try and literally kid me with your rather pathetic bullshit! As this entire sick scenario is like an exact page out of Hans Christian Andersen's: The Emperor's New Clothes. In this case the bulk of the British public falling for this contrived and wholly pathetic crap! And essentially morons who actually in very close tandem with these intellectually challenged serf cretins distinctively do believe that if you say something often enough regardless of how idiotic and untruthful it is, that by doing so it simply makes it the truth! And these are the very people that effectively basically consider themselves the absolute epitome of the humid master race! Dream on!

[literarygoon]

So,

Four shows down, four to go.

In reflecting on the organized chaos of last week, during which we saw record-breaking crowds attend the Shawnigan Players production of "All's Well That Ends Well", I can't help but feel like I'm deciphering a dream, or maybe a hallucination. Becoming a character on stage is certainly akin to being in some sort of altered state, and at times it's hard to decide whether you experienced something as an actor or as the character now operating in your brainspace.

The audience has brought an additional electricity to our collective endeavour, and sometimes I feel like I'm channeling raw emotional energy from places left unexplored during ordinary life. I scream, I cry, I kiss, I fight. My favourite moment came on Friday (or was it Saturday?) when I paused for a moment before delivering a particularly funny line, only to have the audience burst into laughter at my facial expression alone. By the time I'd milked it for an additional few seconds it felt like the line was unnecessary, because I'd already communicated my comedic anguish through silence.

There's a number of unique challenges with this show, like the fact that it's double-cast (I have to be bullied by two kings of different temperaments and seduce two young virgins of radically disparate heights). Sometimes we have a real baby on stage, sometimes we have a doll. And during the matinee performances, as the blazing sun bakes our black stage, I have to accomplish a certain level of emotional realism while simultaneously blinking away forehead sweat. But maybe the most challenging part is my final scene pivot from boy to man, where I go from screaming dramatically that my accuser is "a common whore to the camp" to being earnestly transfixed by my true love within the space of a single minute.

We performed over eight hours of live theatre last week, but my memory is drawn to moments that couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds — the time I pronounced "thoughts" as "thotes", the time my prop sword bent at a 90-degree angle in the middle of a battle scene, and two particular occasions when dropped lines led to pregnant pauses. It's hard not to keep an inventory of my missteps, and at times I find myself letting them overshadow the overwhelmingly positive response we've been receiving from the audience.

If I'm being honest, I'm feeling a low level of dread about our final performance on Sunday — I definitely don't want this to be over. After months of rehearsals, making recordings of my lines, trying on costumes and stressing over blocking and meeting new people, we finally have this show dialled. It's profound in a way I never fully comprehended until recently, and each show a new brilliant witticism or thematic element makes itself apparent. I'm deeply, intensely proud of what we're doing and I don't want it to pass into memory.

I'm not ready yet!

This is why theatre is such a unique art form. It's temporary. Even if you record the performance (which we did), it will never adequately capture the magic of what's happening in the moment. I feel like a corny high school drama teacher when I assert this, but I believe it 100%. Lately I've been comparing it to being a graffiti artist who abruptly whitewashes his work the moment it's complete. The fact that its so ephemeral is what makes it superior to telling stories through film and TV, what makes it hypnotic and unique and insane.

It says something about life itself, really.

All of this that's happening right now? It will never happen again. The Literary Goon

[jmflowers]

prompt #1 | prompt #2 | prompt #3 | prompt #4 | prompt #5 | prompt #6 (preview)

expanded prompts on archiveofourown.org: Hygge

prompt #7: a request was made on AO3 for a Maya-POV of chapter 5, which was something I had sort of already written while creating it... here’s my working draft from that

“Oh...kay,” Maya mumbles, looking down at the crying infant now cradled in her arms. Their daughter, just three weeks old, has inherited Bishop-blonde hair and the DeLuca lungs. The DeLuca temper, too.

“Shh,” Maya soothes, beginning to rock as her eyes travel across the main floor. The kitchen is in disarray, plastic cups and bowls abandoned across the counter in typical Andrea fashion - nothing quite making it to the sink he can’t yet reach. There’s a sippy-cup rolled under the kitchen table, milk dribbled out onto the tile beside it.

The living room isn’t much better; toys and books and burp cloths litter every surface, save for the one clear spot on the couch where Carina had been sitting when she walked in. Andrea sits on the floor amidst the chaos, wiping sleepily at his eyes as he hiccups.

“Mommy,” he whines, “Want juice.”

She sighs, the family-set of tears making sense. “Okay, bubba,” she says, moving closer, still rocking the screaming baby, “Let’s get some juice and some dinner, okay?”

He nods, pushing himself up from the floor. “Mama cry,” he tells her as his hand slips into hers.

It makes Maya smile, the innocence of him. “Yeah, little man, she is. But that’s okay, right? Sometimes we cry. Mommy and Mama, too.”

“Andrea cry,” he adds.

“Yes,” she agrees, “Even Andrea cries. And Beatrice.” She settles the baby against her shoulder as Andrea crawls into a chair at the table. She’s hungry, too, she’s sure; wanting for Carina and her breasts. But Carina is, obviously, out of commission and so she reaches into the cupboard for the unopened container of formula instead.

It’s a delicate dance: making a bottle to pop into the warmer while simultaneously digging through the fridge for some leftovers to feed Andrea. All without ever ceasing the movement that is momentarily quieting Beatrice’s wails.

She’s triumphant, somehow - a plate set in front of Andrea as she settles into a chair beside him with Beatrice and a bottle. The baby latches hungrily, finally quiet.

For the first time since she walked through the door, Maya feels herself start to relax. It’s been hard, going back to work knowing that Carina is at home attempting to juggle everything. The new house and the new baby and the new big brother all at once is a huge ask, as far as Maya can see, but Carina had been adamant that everything would be fine.

That they would all be fine.

This, though? This doesn’t look fine.

“What did you do today?” Maya asks as Andrea shovels pasta into his mouth.

He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Pups.”

She squints, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “Pups?”

He nods.

“Paw Patrol?”

He nods again.

But that doesn’t make sense, either, because Carina doesn’t like to have the TV on during the day with the kids. And Paw Patrol, of all shows, is not one in Andrea’s repertoire thus far. Not educational enough, Carina had said.

“Bea no sleep,” Andrea adds as an after thought.

Ah. “Did you sleep?” Maya presses, the reality of Carina’s day quickly dawning.

Andrea shakes his head.

She glances up at the clock, deciding then and there that the actual timing of bedtime is irrelevant for two children that have done without all of their very necessary naps.

And so that’s what she does, once they’ve both finished eating. She whisks them upstairs for the fastest bedtime routine she’s ever done: baths and diaper changes and pyjamas. Andrea makes it through only a few pages of a story before he’s snoring softly, curled up tight in his bed. She pulls the extra bassinette from the nursery closet and settles Beatrice in that, taking the baby monitor with her when she closes the door.

In a whirlwind, she traipses back downstairs to tidy the kitchen and pick up the toys and only when everything is back to the way it normally is does she stop to breathe again.

Because this isn’t sustainable. This much burden on Carina isn’t fair - not to Carina or their kids or their home life. She sets to work on remedying it before Carina can talk her out of it once more.

[littlecello]

*taps microphone*

Ahem.

I've... been really quiet on here in the last couple of years, haven't I. So I figured it'd be nice to check in.

So... hi, everyone! I've gained quite a number of new followers lately, which is a bit of a mystery to me, but heyo. So to everyone who's new here - thank you so much for being here! 💛 My name is Daria, but I usually go by Cello in fandom spaces. My forever fandom is Life on Mars, and I sometimes dabble in the Endeavour/Morse-verse and Reservoir Dogs. Lately I've been playing a lot of Genshin Impact, so some art for that might come your way at some point too.

As most of you know, I'm a self-employed musician by trade, so you can imagine how these past two years have been going for me. 😅 Though I'm happy to say that work has picked up again in the last few months, but that's also left me really exhausted. I was more or less shielding for most of the pandemic, so going from near-total isolation to being surrounded by 80 people and a lot of loud noise was... quite something. Tiring, exhausting, overwhelming. I don't want to complain though, I am truly grateful that I somehow made it through, and that I can look to the future with cautious optimism.

Anyway... Yeah, I just wanted to check in a bit. I used to write more personal things on tumblr, but I realised I haven't done that in quite a long time. I also more or less didn't draw at all this year, which I'm kinda sad about... but on the other hand, I drew a lot in 2020 to finish my fanbook, so I suppose it balances out? And this year I've really been focusing on my music education/outreach endeavours, which has taken up a lot of my mental and creative energy, so I guess that also explains it.

But I wanted you all to know that I haven't forgotten about tumblr and my beloved fandoms. ❤ And I can't believe that somehow there's now more of you than there was at the beginning of the year. Also, I've been on tumblr for over 10 years now. 🤯 And I'm also getting close to 1k followers, so I might actually do a giveaway in the new year to celebrate. I've gathered together a few LoM-themed things that would make for really nice prizes, I think. :') And maybe also a DTIYS challenge? We shall see! I just want to find a way to thank all of you, no matter which fandom you follow me for.

Anyway, I'm not quite sure what else to talk about, haha. If you have any questions at all, feel free to message me... and let me know how you're doing! I hope this year has treated you well on the whole. I know things have been hard for all of us, and if you've been struggling, please accept this virtual hug and cup of tea. I see you. Life has been and continues to be incredibly tough, and if you've felt like giving up... I feel you. You're still here, and you're not alone. 🖤

[that-bajan-kid]

Boku No Hero Academia Chapter 292 SPOILERS

(Pogchamp)

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Imagine staying away from Tumblr, Instagram and Twitter to avoid spoilers, only to get spoiled by a fUCKING WHATSAPP GROUP CHAT I'M SO MAD RN

Y'all better believe I freaked out when I saw this. I've seen lots of theories about this too. Mostly traitor!Kirishima since Bakugou's doing his pose and the other two are posing like villains. Also fan art. So. Much. Fan art. Now on to the chapter.

We see Jeanist in the plane getting ready to jump out while the latest episode of Keeping Up With The Todorokis plays in the background and he's not too happy about Dabi using his and his family's trauma to destroy hero society. I get that Dabi shouldn't have exposed Endeavour in the most damaging way possible for everyone involved but in his defence 1) it's not his fault Enji was a peice of shit to his family and 2) Dabi's a Todoroki, being dramatic is ingrained in their DNA.

YAS JEANIST FUCK EM UP. Bakugou you really should not be standing right now, I can see the pain it's causing you all over your face. So was it really a dead body in that bag? And Dabi, didn't you also not believe it was actually Jeanist or did the months of him missing convince you it was actually him?

Dabi is glowing like the sun and smoking like a Colorado wild fire which can't possibly be healthy for him. Dabi is all "Whatever bitch, the Todoroki family drama is to strong to be defeated by mere steel wires. Right, Shouto?" as Todoroki charges towards his previously-thought-to-be-dead older brother with some fire of his own. Compress and Spinner are talking about how Jeanist actually managed to subdue Machia and Spinner is all "Doesn't Machia have super strength tho?" and I'm here sitting in my seat wondering if the anaesthetic finally kicked in as Jeanist tightens the wire around Machia.

Spinner realises that Machia has been panting ever since they arrive, aka when his orders were full filled. So now he's disparately trying to wake Shiggy up so he can give Machia a reason to stay awake but then a wild Nejire-chan appears out of no where and she looks fucking pissed the fuck off and I am here for it.

FOR FUCK SAKE DABI GOD DAMNIT FUCK

Istg if she's dead I'm gonna fucking riot. Man Shouto is not having a good time. Midoriya better has sit his ass down. The fuck are you gonna do? Cry at them?? You ain't got no arms bitch.

Oh look a new background for my phone.

(Edit: I like how the heat from his flames are warping the panels)

Izuku you are physically incapable of doing anything rn. Yeah Shouto is in pain but at least his bones weren't turn to liquid. Is Jeanist talking about Endeavour or himself? Cause Hawks is down for the count and I'd be pretty pissed if Hori let Enji keep his hero licence after this.

There was a house. I think it might have been Tenko's, I'm not sure. So anyway, Shiggy woke up and he's thinking to himself "Damn I'm itchy but I can't move. Lemme fix that." and then orders Machia to break free. So Machia is doing that and now Jeanist with his one (1) lung are having a hard time keeping up.

It's been like six months since I last visited duolingo but I'm pretty sure those sound effects say "Aaaaa" which I find hilarious. I also completely forgot this was happening. Is Shiggy calling back the NHE? Cause the others are fucked if that's what's happening.

I had the ending of this chapter spoiled for me so I already know who that is which sucks all the fun out of it but I'll act like I don't know who it is out of respect for their character.

Oh my god Burnin was save at the last second who could it possibly be????????

This panel looks really cool also Shouto's flames?

So Dabi and Shouto are battling it out final agnikai style and Shouto is all "So your the one who sent that villain to our house!!?! NATSUO ALMOST DIED YOU ASSHOLE!!! DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR FAVOURITE BROTHER?!!!!?!!!" And Dabi's stone cold response is "But Endeavour would have suffered" so Shouto has the natural response of "HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST YOUR MIND" to which Dabi responds with "YOUR GODDAMN RIGHT I DID." and how he no longer has the ability to care about anything anymore which is very sad but damnit this panel would look godly animated.

So Dabi is like "Now I can finally kill you" as he gets ready to kill Shouto and the NHE are showing up and Jeanist is completely out in the open now. Whatever shall happen now???? Oh dearist me. If only the heroes had another secret ace up their sleeve that was not in anyone's plans because of how unlikely it was to happen. I wonder.

DON'T YOU JUST LOVE IT WHEN PAST TRAUMA AND CURRENT TRAUMA MIX IN THE MOST TOXIC, SELF DEPRICATING WAY POSSIBLE???? Izuku, who has done literally everything in his power to keep everyone from a groosome desintergrating demise, the one who is physically incapable of moving, is really sitting here calling himself a useless hero because his body's natural instinct to not die, which he still has apparently, is preventing him from floating head first into the arms of Death. BOI YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN BE CONCIOUS RIGHT NOW WHAT DO YOU MEAN!??!!?

I swear if these kids don't get some therapy after this.

Oh my god it's lemillion what a surprise. Also, did he really just say "Pogchamp" lmfao. I'm still salty about being spoiled but that was really funny. How long has he had his quirk back? We know Aizawa has been training Eri's quirk but when did she get enough control to be able to fix him? I'm so glad she can control her quirk now cause it means she won't be scare of accidentally uno reversing someone out of existence.

Still very disappointed the Mirio reveal was spoiled for me. Pogchamp was hilarious but still. I'm sure the official translation will have him saying something boring like "POWERRRRRRRRR". Sigh. Welp time to commit verbal assassination.

Until next time.

[bnha-scenerios-imagines]

Can I request for Todoroki Shouto? Him having a sister (which is the reader) which he hates but she admires him? But later finding out she ran away because she can't stand how her family treated her? And also later finding out she rescued a bunch of people and sacrificed her life for all of them (up to you wether she lives or not)? Sorry if it's a little complicated but thank youuu!!!

I hope this is okay!

Shouto Todoroki

He isn’t sure what to feel when your eyes look into his and you reach up, your hand grazing just under his scarred eye. Your thumb wiped away a stray tear that he didn’t know had come from him. Your smile was weak as you looked him in the eyes.

“You’ll be a great hero, Todoroki” You whispered and he finally felt a familiar feeling.

Guilt.

He doesn’t remember when he began hating you.

During his childhood he never had a connection with his siblings. He was always kept away from him, his father claiming he was better than him but you, you would always turn to look at him and wave at him. He remembers one time you had snuck into his room just to give him some candy you somehow managed to snag.

So why did he hate you?

Was it because of the freedom you had? The love that your mother shared with you? Or perhaps the quirk you had?

You shared your mother’s quirk. A key reason as to why she did not fear you as much as she did some of her other children, like she feared him. The scar on his left eye reminded him of this. It reminded him of her fear, of his father.

When he’s told you’ve runaway he’s indifferent to it. He doesn’t care. It’s not like the two of you were ever close. Although, a bitter thought crossed his mind as his sister left the room, how lucky you got away.

There are news articles and stories about your disappearance. Theories of you being kidnapped are popular however, everyone in the household knows the truth behind your leaving, even if he refuses to accept it.

 It takes him a while before he can finally face his mother but when he does he feels his chest become lighter. He feels as though he can finally breathe freely, a small smile graced his lips as his mother reached out, a hand placed gently over his.

“(Name) was always fond of you” She spoke, her eyes looking out the window as if recalling a past memory. “She was always one to compliment your abilities. She knew you were going to be a hero one day. It seems as though she was right” Her voice grows weaker as she looks him in the eye, “Have you heard from her? They say she has not been found”

“No. I haven’t.” He says, he tries to hide his irritation but his mother notices and she pulls her hand away and looks back towards the window.

“She didn’t have it easy either.” She confesses the look of guilt on her features causes him to ask more.

 A month passes and no one is able to find you, leading people to believe you’re either dead or you’ve run away. The police refuse to say anything to the press and Endeavour seems like he couldn’t care less.

“One less useless child to feed”

The room is filled with tension as everyone makes their way back to their respective rooms. It’s easier to just forget their father said anything. It is however, a growing reminder that there is only one child he cares about.

 There is screaming and he finds himself lost in the cries for help. The pro-heroes are stuck dealing with the nomu’s that had showed up. The building that is collapsing is a whole other issue that heroes can’t be bothered with. Just as he’s making up a plan a wall of ice covers the front of the building, causing it to momentarily stop its collapse. His attention is immediately drawn to you, your face was hidden by the hood on your jacket but he knew.

“Please!” A woman screamed as she grabbed hold of your arms, “My son! My son!” She cried as she tore one hand from your side to point it at the collapsing building. “He’s still in the building! Please save him, hero!” You take her hand and remove it from your arm. You speak to her for a moment longer before you run into the abandoned building. Todoroki follows you, pushing past the people trying to run away.

It’s hard to see in the building, smoke is filling the rooms quickly and he fears that at any moment it could explode, or collapse. He runs towards the direction he hopes you’re going, covering his mouth as he jogs up the stairs.

“(Name)!” He yells when he sees your blurred figure. He can’t remember the last time he had called your name and maybe that’s why you don’t respond. When was the last time anyone called you by your name? He manages to get to you and places a hand on your shoulder. You turn around, a young boy in your arms, limply.

“Is he…”

“No. We need to get out now. We only have a few minutes” You say and Todoroki nods, surprised by your sudden authoritative tone of voice. The fire at this time had surrounded the three of you and you quickly shoved the boy into Todoroki’s arms. A sudden loud scream from the building being pushed beyond its limits fill the room and in an instant you slam into Todoroki’s side, causing him to stumble to the ground.

“(Name)-“A piece of the ceiling slams against the weakened concrete and suddenly the floor gives out. He feels cold and everything goes dark.

 He wakes up to scratching and muffled calls of people. His vision is blurred for a moment before he sits up, the boy still in his arms. A crystalized shield had surrounded him and the workers had been attempting to cut a hole so that they could get the two out. He raises his hand and melts the ice surrounding them.

“Are you alright?” A man asks as he helps Todoroki out of the ice. When he slowly nods the worker turns towards the younger boy who is being wheeled off to an ambulance. “You’re lucky you two survived. How did you-“

“My sister!” He says suddenly, turning to the worker. He can’t remember the last time he called you that. “She was in the building when it collapsed. She saved those people, she saved me.”

“Whoa, we haven’t-“In that exact moment, the loud barks from a dog a few feet away catches the attention of the worker and Todoroki. He doesn’t waste time in running towards the dog, almost spraining his ankle on the way as he ignores the worker's protests.

“Hey kid you can’t be here-“He pushes past the man and the dog and crouches down, pushing the dirt and debris away from you. It takes a while and fighting off the hands trying to pry him up and away from the building’s remains.

Then he sees you. You’re barely breathing. You’re bruised and broken as he pulls you up, as best as he can. He rests you against his shoulder, your body leaning into him.

“Shit- It’s another kid. Call the medics” One of the workers hiss to the other and he can hear the mumble of the worker and the static reply of another.

“(Name), (Name) please” he calls out as he pushes away some of the stray hairs from your face. You scrunch your face up and slowly open your eyes. “Please stay with me’ He says as his grip tightens around you. The worker stays back as he allows you to have your moment with your brother. Perhaps he already knows your fate.

“Shouto?”  You ask weakly, your hand reaching up to him.

“Yes (Name). It’s me” He says as he holds your head and you smile, your eyes gleaming as you let out a laugh, followed by a deep cough that rattles your weak body.

“My hero,” You say.

 “Your father never liked your sister. He was rough with her. Do you remember the night she snuck into your room? The night she gave you those little candies that you loved so much? He beat her. She couldn’t walk by the end of it.”

“I need you to stay with me,” He said as he pulled you further into him. You let out another shaky laugh as you look at him.

“You’re so amazing Shouto. I watched you on the TV. You did so amazing. You won second.” You sigh as you lean further into him. “I can’t believe you’re my brother. You were always so amazing.”

“A few years after that, when she went into elementary school we found out that he ribs had hardened around the ribs, causing it hard for her to breathe. It was the effect of being beaten repeatedly, not that the doctor would explicitly say that. We were given a choice, give permission to let her go to surgery and possibly die during the operation or stop her from doing any activities. We chose to not do the operation.”

When he heard you let out another deep cough he felt panic rise in him as you slowly looked up at him, still smiling. You were still smiling… why?

“She was locked in her room, insulted by your father repeatedly. He let his anger out on her often. When she came to visit me it was obvious. I never brought it up. I never tried to stop it. What kind of mother was I? How could I let that man hurt my children so much? But she admired you so much Shouto. She knew you were going to be a hero someday.”

 “You didn’t seem to use your left side” You hum as you gently hold his left arm, your grip felt non-existent as you slowly began to nod off. “Shouto….”

“(Name) I need you to stay with me-“

“It doesn’t matter now Shouto. We both know what’s going to happen. I either die here or I die at home. Here, Shouto, I’m a hero.” You finally looked up at him, your eyes still gleaming despite the impending doom. “Shouto. It’s your quirk. It’s not our father’s. It’s yours.”

Your thumb wiped away a stray tear that he didn’t know had come from him. Your smile was weak as you looked him in the eyes.

“You’ll be a great hero, Todoroki” You whispered and he watched in horror as your hand fell to your side.

[sazzieem-blog]

All Tied Up

The last few weeks in mummy madness has resulted in a bit of a learning curve in the world of 'ties' notably tongue ties, upper lip ties and inner cheek ties. The formal medical term for these are frenulums which refers to tissue in the body that inhibits movement.

So this story begins with the youngest member of the hatter household struggling with reflux and constant wind pain. Our GP started treatment for the reflux using a proton pump inhibitor which has had some success. But the poor little fellow has still been in agony with wind pain and even now at 3.5 months will rarely sleep longer than a 3 hour block.

So cue our 8 week check up with the child health nurse. I raise my concerns about wind, the nurse suggests using some natural anti colic medication and seeing a lactation consultant (the little guy is exclusively breastfed). 2 weeks later, we see the lactation consultant. She does an examination of his mouth and his attachment during feeding. She notices his upper lip curling up and a clicking sound, both demonstrating he is not latching well and is essentially eating air. She believes that ties are causing issue but suggests to try chiro to see if that frees up his tongue at all and improves feeding. She also has a theory that he is filling up on air and not milk hence the sleeping issues.

After one week, three sessions of chiro and no improvement to feeding, the lactation consultant refers us to a paediatric dentist. The dentist examines young master's mouth and takes some photos. She explains that he has a posterior tongue tie, an upper lip tie and cheek ties. She also says there is other evidence that the ties are affecting feeding. My boy has a sizeable 'milk blister' on his upper lip which the dentist explains is like a callous from his lip rubbing against my skin because he keeps slipping. He also has a strong gag reflex (caused by the fact the tongue can't lift to block and protect the throat) and a build up of milk on the back of his tongue.

The dentist suggests a procedure called a frenectomy where the ties are released by being cut by a laser. She explains that the existence of tissue alone is not sufficient to warrant the procedure, but there should be an issue that needs resolving (in our case feeding) and the thickness of the tissue. The thicker the tissue the greater the restriction (not the length of the tissue which many doctors base their findings on). Other issues that can be caused by ties include tooth decay (from thick folds of skin preventing a toothbrush from accessing the tooth), bite formation (as the thick tissue can pull on the gum and cause teeth to grow at abnormal angles) and speech from being unable to open the mouth or use the tongue properly in forming words. The diagnosis and treatment of tongue ties for feeding is a relatively recent phenomena, as in the past they were only looked at if the child had speech problems. We book in the following week for the procedure - at this point young master is just over 3 months old.

Day One - Thursday

Young master has his procedure. As part of the procedure, they place goggles on his eyes (like what happens to us at the dentist so the lights do not hurt our eyes) and swaddle him. He is in the procedure room for 10 minutes total. Afterwards he feeds really well and sleeps. As predicted by the dentist, four hours post surgery he becomes irritable so we give him some panadol and nurofen and regularly repeat the dose of panadol. He seems a lot more relaxed. We start stretches six hours post surgery. They are easy enough to do but he does not enjoy them. As the day progresses, he becomes a bit lazier with his feeding and is not attaching as well and is also very gassy and distressed from that. We still do not sleep well.

Day Two - Friday

So many smiles! I have never seen this little guy smile so much. He is still a little bit lazy with his feeding but massive improvements from before. Still struggling with his wind. He has a good session with the chiro in the afternoon. The surgeon calls to check up on him and suggests maintaining pain relief. We did however manage a three and a half hour block of sleep, possibly one of the longest sleeps in a while.

Day Three - Saturday

From reports by other mums, day three is the worst post operatively. Our experience is consistent with this. Following chiro in the morning, the little guy is very distressed and unsettled most of the day between wind and pain. In the afternoon, I commence regular dosing of panadol and his mood gradually improves. His pre bedtime feed is probably his best yet (really good attachment) as are all our feeds overnight. He averages about 4 hours sleep between each feed overnight.

Day 4 - Sunday

We still continue stretches. Little man is super cuddly but on the whole seems to be feeling a lot better. His feeding really well and seems a little bit less distressed over his stretches. His wind also appears to have improved. I also notice that the milk blister on his upper lip has started to harden and reduce in size. Yay!!

So as I write this post we are still halfway through day four so I will endeavour to provide further updates as recovery continues. Interestingly, throughout this process I have discovered that there is a lot of division in the medical community about ties. When we were in hospital last week, I mentioned the wind and feeding issues to one of the paediatricians who was adamant that going to the dentist was a waste of time and his wind was from lactose intolerance. I have included an article below from the Australian Breastfeeding Association which claims that genuine lactose intolerance is extremely rare and most diagnosed intolerances are either to the cow's milk proteins or secondary intolerance. As I have already eliminated dairy from my diet under advice from GP to help his reflux (which has not seemed to have had much effect) and I rarely eat other allergens as my husband is gluten intolerant, this does not seem a likely issue. I had so many feeding issues with my first child including nipple grazing, supply issues and reflux, which are typical issues associated with ties. I wonder with better education, if I could have avoided these issues had ties been assessed and diagnosed earlier. It frustrates me to think the stress I endured may have been avoidable.

Further information

The lactation consultant directed me to the work of Dr Palmer and Dr Ghaheri - both doctors who have done extensive work and research around ties and the issues they can cause. I definitely found some interesting articles and blogs here.

The Australian Breastfeeding Association - I always find their articles very informative. I have included links to an article about ties and another about intolerances of breastmilk given how both seem to inform diagnoses of reflux and wind.

The Australasian Society for Tongue and Lip Ties. As outlined to some extent in my post above, the treatment for ties is multifaceted - we will require the support of chiro and lactation consultants going forward as my baby now needs to learn how to use his tongue properly for the first time since it developed in utero. Furthermore, the issues ties cause can require treatment by various specialists (dentists, speech therapists, orthodontists to name a few). ASTLiT endeavours to link these groups up and provide upskilling and best practice. The dentist who treated my son referred to their guidelines regarding diagnosis and stretching. I also experienced the benefit of having practitioners on the same page with the relationship between my lactation consultant, chiro and dentist.