#i'll get there eventually

[somberdespair]

[hamaonoverdrive]

more babygirl doodles

[rapha-reads]

Another Merthur Fic Rec list I should make one of these days is a list of fics where Arthur and Merlin leave Camelot behind to become farmers. Unsurprisingly, there are quite a few of this type of stories, and so far, every one I've read is amazing, because they all share that slow aching tenderness feeling. The one that cuts straight to your soul, you know? Because when these boys allow themselves to shrug off the weight of their destiny, it's like they rediscover themselves and each other, and with the connection with nature that comes from working the land and depending on the land to live, there's suddenly room for true growth, companionship and love.

Might have to write my own version of Farmers Merthur one day, too...

[tranakin-skywalker]

Anakin has never dealt well with stillness. He exists in perpetual movement, energy burning and bursting inside him like a reactor core. “Always on the move,” Obi-Wan used to say about him during his apprenticeship. He never once asked about the burn scar in the middle of Anakin’s back. It’s less a single scar and more a collection of years, layered one over the other until all the nerves around them had died. More than a decade later and there is still a spot the size of his hand in the middle of his back where he can’t feel anything. He’d been young when he learned that an electric prod switched to its lowest setting and pressed against skin would cause third degree burns if left there long enough. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out the best way to keep the prod off his back was to look busy. Stillness is anathema to everything in Anakin’s nature. He can’t remember how many times he’s been told off for his inability to sit still. The need to move, to go. Be anywhere but here. His teachers used to hate it. Something about the night always makes it worse. There is the dark, and the stillness, all other life succumbing to the nocturnal draw of sleep- leaving Anakin alone with only himself. It’s not so bad when he’s awake still because of some project, one day without sleep, two, three, it doesn’t matter. He has something to do, something to busy himself with. Usually something important. He can exist like that just fine. It’s when the nightmares drag him awake into the darkness- still much too early to begin the day but entirely incapable of falling back to sleep. When all he is left with is the confines of his chambers and the stink of fear-sweat and his own mind trying to cannibalize itself. Nightmares always somehow seemed to make the restlessness worse.  Maybe it’s the shot of adrenaline straight to his brain more potent than any stim he’s taken- triggering his body into thinking he’s about to die. Root deep fear of a mind that can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what it has conjured by its own imagination. Only it’s not always in his head. Sometimes- his nightmares come true. Sometimes he feels like he’s being eaten alive.  In the past Anakin would sneak down to the salles to practice katas until sweat rained down off his skin like Naboo waterfalls and his night-terrors were half faded memories- or he’d steal away to the underlevels of Coruscant and race until mortality seems a foreign concept, flying fast enough that for a moment it feels like he can outrun the death on his heels. Neither is a viable option to him now. Not injured on a star destroyer, barely able to move on his own. But there is something else that might calm the shaking and the fear-sweat soaking through his night clothes. It’s been years since he was a slave-child kept awake by the terror of his own future- but old habits are hard to kill. He doesn’t remember how young he was when he discovered a good way to spend sleepless nights was elbow deep in machinery, hours passed repairing whatever he could reach until the skin of his bare hands split open and wept with blisters. Old enough to realize that he was safe as long as he was useful. That’s not saying much, though. One of his first memories is watching a man being blown up from the inside out. On Tatooine, a child’s first lesson is to learn that they are replaceable, and their second is to learn now not to be.

i swear this fic is just 80% depressing introspection about Anakin's shitty life

[andiwriteordie]

if thinking about a fic counted as writing it, the sequel to the heartbreak prince/into the daylight would be written btw 

[madhyanas]

i talk a lot of abominably horny shit for someone who can't bear the thought of being naked in front of another person. i guess the flesh is willing but the spirit is weak

[gumnut-logic]

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Alan shivered as his big brother’s arms pulled him from his helpless swing back and forth above a height that wanted to kill him.

Virgil’s arms were ever so strong and they held him ever so tight as Alan struggled to breathe.

“You’re okay, Allie. I’ve got you.”

His breath was harsh in his throat.

“Is he okay?” Scott’s voice was ever so worried as he yelled down the small crevice. No doubt Alan had terrified both his brothers with his fall.

Virgil’s arms tightened again. “I’ve got him. Bit of a fright, but he’s okay.”

“I’m coming down.”

“Of course he is.” It was said under Virgil’s breath, but with no malice. Alan didn’t care, he just held onto Virgil with everything he had.

Alan was a thrill seeker. He loved to test the limits of…well, everything. But he had his own limits and honestly, falling off a mountain was wild in thought, but not so much in practise.

Because he had fallen with zero control and the sudden horrible fear that he was taking one or both of his brothers with him. For a split second, as he drew in a breath to scream, he thought he was going to lose more than he could bear.

Fortunately his brothers thought ahead.

Virgil in particular was the safety nut and it was that nuttiness that had stopped what could have been horrific and reduced it to a campfire story.

Once Alan could stop shaking.

He was vaguely aware of Virgil slapping an extra self-deploying piton into the rock face as they hung there, safety obviously still foremost on his mind. But while one arm let go for a moment, the other held Alan even tighter.

His ribs creaked.

But he didn’t care.

Nothing much more was said, though somehow Virgil still managed to yank out his first aid kit with one hand and flash a mediscanner all over Alan as if he didn’t believe he was okay.

Again, Alan didn’t care.

The scrape of rock and silicon leather announced the arrival of his biggest brother and a mutter between the two eldest saw Alan change clinging subjects. Scott was less massive, but he held him just as strong.

“I think we should call it a day.” Virgil’s voice was quiet but firm.

Alan let the air rush out of his lungs. “No, I want to do this.”

A negative rumble in Scott’s chest vibrated against his cheek.

Alan backed off a little and looked up at his big brother. “No. I have to do this.”

Virgil’s deep baritone was still negative from behind him. “Allie, you’ve got time. You don’t have to learn how to do this today.” An exasperated sigh. “We shouldn’t have brought you up here in the first place.”

No, no, no! Not this again. “Virgil, no, please, this is the first step, I need to do this!”

Scott turned Alan back to face him. “You’re too young. Give it a couple of years.”

Alan shook him off, pushing away to dangle by himself. Virgil instinctively reached for him before grabbing the rope above him instead and securing it as if he hadn’t welded it to the rock face moments before. His brothers were such worry warts they were going to stop him from getting anywhere anytime!

“I don’t have a couple of years! I want to help now!”

“You’re eleven! You should be in school.”

“I am in school, Scott. I’m learning what I need to learn - how to be a rescue operative - like you, like…Dad.”

At the mention of their father, Scott’s lips thinned. Losing Dad was raw and only months old. It hurt bad. Scott refused to believe he was gone. Virgil fretted that he was going to lose Scott because of that. There were loud arguments. His brothers needed help now.

Not in a couple of years’ time.

And basic training was where he needed to start.

Scott still hadn’t responded. It was like Alan had mentioned a forbidden word.

Virgil brushed his fingers along Alan’s arm, as if begging him to turn and see his point of view. “Allie, you can’t push this because of Dad.”

Alan glared at him. “Why not?”

But then he saw that poorly disguised fear in his brother’s brown eyes and realised he had only added to his worry.

“I can do this.”

Virgil’s voice was quiet. “I have no doubt you can.” He swallowed. “It is more a case of ‘should you?’”

A frown. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” This time the quiet voice was from his eldest brother and Alan was forced to turn and stare at Scott. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” He straightened in his harness. “It’s what Dad would do.”

There was an exasperated sound from Virgil, but Alan ignored it and, instead, began pulling himself further up the side of Tracy Peak.

Scott growled. “Alan-“

“I’m gonna learn how to do this, and then I’m going to learn how to do the next thing, and the next thing, and the next thing, and then I’m going to help you guys. Don’t try to stop me.” He pulled himself up past Scott.

His big brother reacted by launching himself into point position again. After all, he was Scotty, and he had to be first.

Alan grit his teeth.

No, that was unfair.

It was safety again. One brother ahead and one behind to catch the little kid in the middle should he fall.

Which he had.

Alan’s shoulders dropped and he paused just long enough for Virgil to catch up.

A hand landed on his arm. “Alan-“

He shook him off, no matter how much Alan missed those strong arms holding him tight. No matter how much the fall below was terrifying.

He was a Tracy.

This is what Tracys did.

They saved lives, did what had to be done, and they weren’t scared.

He could do this and he would.

Just like Scott. Just like Virgil and John.

Just like Dad.

He pulled himself up the rock face…and kept going.

When they made the peak, Alan stood up and stared down at the villa far below. Virgil was whispering something angry under his breath at Scott.

Scott was frowning, caught between paying attention to both of them.

Alan straightened. He may only be eleven years old, but he had lived a lifetime already. This was basic training.

The beginning of everything else.

-o-o-o-

[esterzach]

Bel Tine and Beltane

It took me a while to actually click but Emond's field celebrating Bel Tine was one of the biggest hints that one can't really rely on these people to actually be correct when they claim something. Lol...

Someone pointed out to me how fucked up is the whole timeline in the show, like how the first about 4-5 months seem to pass for like 5 days, which I get... But they said Oh and Bel Tine is a spring holiday and in the show it is autumn. It never clicked before. I just accepted it as it is. Oh, yeah, right, they mean Beltane, the pagan holiday of the Celts... Ok... And never thought about it. But it is obviously autumn. Yellow leaves, cold, then snow and all. It's not Beltane they were celebrating.

Beltane is all about the new life, hope, spring, bonfires, dances... Nothing about candles, honoring the dead and inviting the souls to come back. That's Samhain. Samhain is the end of the summer, the end of the crop season. Samhain is about the dead, the moment when the doors between the two worlds are opening and the souls of the dead roam the world of the living. Honoring them, remembering them, reminding them that life can be good, to invite them to be reborn. So these people seem to have forgotten their own holidays and traditions. They either combined two holidays or mixed the names. And it's perfect. Because, as Moiraine said, from all the people of Maneteren, only the kids survived. They were the ones who built up their whole society again. And kids... may not remember exactly their traditions. Maybe they remember this amazing holiday called Bel Tine (even the name is pronounced wrong), and then someone remembered when they last celebrated and that was in the autumn with lanterns for the dead and all. And there - Beltane becomes Bel Tine and it's celebrated during the autumn. That looks to me like a glaring example of why we shouldn't trust these people when they speak about their own history. They know some of it, but... it might be slightly wrong. I love it. And, of course, completely missed that one too. Never mind, I have two years to figure out what they are showing me this season...

[citrusbugz]

Me watching y'all talk about the season 2 finale (I'm on ep 17):

[four2andnew]

The Weasley Family Tree in A Rose in Winter

Was working on this fic today (added a whopping 1270 words, which is a lot for me lately) and realized I'd never have a reason to slip the details of the Weasley brothers' family in way that makes sense to the story.

Now remember, I arbitrarily made it so the births of magical boys greatly outnumber magical girls in this fic (which makes sense if you read the first chapter), thus none of this is canon compliant. Plus you know, different people being dead vs. alive...

Below is a snapshot of my work notes with the Weasley Family Tree:

[somber-sunrise]

It's cold outside, but it's a lot colder in here.

[elialys]

not me getting emotional writing my first serious tess & ellie scene in months

[liliallowed]

I am legally obligated to comment on every dusttale post on Tumblr/j

nah but fr I think I should rebrand my other account too

99 percent dusttale

one percent is my last remaining braincell dedicated to Lilith's garden project(personal passion project that I wanna turn into an indie game someday!)

[dreamtuna]

i've got in the terrible habit of opening a billion posts in new tabs to read later that day but don't get round to them by the end of the day so i bookmark them, and then that "later" ends up being "two weeks later" if i'm lucky

[avianii]

remember when I said this was gonna be my month? apparently I forgot November is my lay in bed and dissociate month because it sucks ass

[spaceprincessem]

wip wednesday

thank you @ebdaydreamer and @buddierights for the tag! here’s a lil more from my buck sees ghost fic

Sixteen

The moon is full tonight, cascading over their makeshift blanket laid out in the back of Tyler’s truck bed parked on the hill that overlooks the cemetery. While it’s not the most comfortable arrangement in the world, Buck wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. His entire body is still crackling with electricity, a pleasant buzz that only comes when he’s doing something he’s not supposed to. Sneaking out of his bedroom and down the lattice to meet Tyler down the road makes something sizzle and pop in his blood. He can imagine how furious his parents would be if they found out. How worried that their only son would partake in late night drinking and trespassing.  

“Are you trying out for the team this year?” Tyler asks after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Depends.” Buck says with a frown, shrugging his shoulders.

“Is it your parents or grades?” Tyler’s voice softens as he traces the lip of the bottle with his thumb.

“Both.” Buck lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “But it’s not my fault Mr. Harris hates me.”

“No,” Tyler hums in agreement, “it’s not. He’s a grade A dick and he doesn’t understand that everyone learns differently.”

Buck blinks up at Tyler with wide, wide eyes. He doesn’t think he’s heard anyone come to his defense before when it came to school. He’s not stupid, he loves to learn, but paying attention and sitting still aren’t things he’s good at, especially if the material isn’t even remotely interesting. He hyper fixates on the less important things which makes taking tests difficult. He knows Tyler has trouble reading. Dyslexia Tyler had told him unashamedly one day when they were working on homework together. Buck wished he knew what was wrong with him, but his parents hadn’t seemed to care too much as long as he was passing. 

tagging @alyxmastershipper @shortsighted-owl @spotsandsocks @sibylsleaves