#someone ask ali sparkes

[ttshapeshifter]

Running the Risk

The second book in the series starts in April and finishes in May of the same year.

It’s said that the children started showing their powers when they were 11/12, and it hasn’t been long Lisa is still 12.

If they’re eleven or twelve that would put them in year six or seven, stretched between the two separate English academic school years. Which it might be because there are the Teller brothers, Alex and Jacob, who aren’t twins and have at least an age gap of 9 months so are unlikely to be in the same school year.

If Lisa is 12 she’s in secondary school, year 7. And has done her SATs.

I’m going to say Mia is 11, in year 6 as she hasn’t done her SATs yet:

In this book we see that Dax & Gideon are in the same class as Lisa so maybe they’re in year 7, secondary school, too. Or maybe classes are mixed based on intelligence more than age which is uncommon but not impossible. I can’t remember if Mia was in their class too.

This is just based off of the second book in The Shapeshifter series, Running the Risk. I don’t know how right i am or how much sense i make, ive started rereading the series after yearsss. This may be me thinking too much into it its a kids book; as a kid i just assumed they were all in the same school year and left it at that.

[cambion-companion]

Hiiiii I am ABSOLUTELY obsessed with your Aemond fics and they are literally getting me through the day because oooofffff are they so wonderful to look forward to!!! I was watching this show the other day and one of the scenes just got me thinking of how interesting it would be to see Aemond in it. I just wanted to request something if that’s alright with you? Just reader admits to not being jealous or doing crazy things like threatening others for flirting with her because she knows Aemond’s crazy about her but Aemond thinks of it that she doesn’t want him the same amount as he does so decided to make her jealous by dancing and flirting all night with Alys/or someone other lady and instead of getting angry like Aemond wanted she gets incredibly sad and hurt by him. Plan backfires and Aemond realizes he fucked up. Even better if they’re married and he does this dumb shit because we love a groveling obsessed Aemond trying to make up to his wife for all the mistakes he makes

Thank youuuuuu and keep loving Aemond as much as you do because it is EVERYTHING

Again, I created a drabble hehehe, we love a quick read!

This definitely serves both angst and fluff so buckle UP and yes I am spoiling you guys...2 fics in one day!

Aemond x reader | angst to fluff | jealous Aemond | posessive Aemond

You smiled up through your eyelashes at the noble lord who’d grabbed your attention, insisting on engaging you in flirtatious banter.  All around the two of you, couples danced with lively abandon to the swelling music.  He was handsome enough, you thought tiredly, casting your eyes about the crowded room for your lover.  Aemond was nowhere to be seen and with an imperceptible sigh you nodded and smiled at the overeager lordling.

“Excuse me, a moment, will you?”  You had spotted your prince, his silver hair contrasting in the swirling color of dancing people.  Touching the elbow of the rather crestfallen man, you departed, weaving your way over to Aemond.

He looked at you, rather aloof, as you approached.  His violet eye displeased upon your face, the other eye covered by his preferred black leather patch.

“Having fun, Lady Y/N?”  Aemond’s voice, though low, was cutting. “That Lannister cub seemed entranced by you.”

“Oh please, Aemond.”  You pried his rigid fingers open from the fist he’d made, interlacing them with your own.  “You know I am wholly yours, heart and body.”

“Hmm.” Came the terse reply.

“Do you want to dance with me?”

He didn’t answer, instead Aemond continued to stare across at the unsuspecting man who you’d been speaking to.

You rolled your eyes, releasing his hand abruptly. “Fine, be sour. I plan on enjoying my evening.”

With a toss of your heavy hair over a shoulder, you stomped away rather ungracefully, almost immediately running into another eager lord.

“May I have this dance?”  The young man asked, silver eyes twinkling.

You glanced back at Aemond, his eye practically sparking fire with the heat of his gaze.

“Yes, I’d love to!”  You graced the nobleman with a winning smile as he led you onto the dancefloor.

He was an excellent dancer, his hands firm upon your waist, his steps light and quick.  Tommin Greyjoy, from the Iron Islands he introduced himself.  Tommin quite enjoyed talking about only himself and before long you instinctively began to tune him out, beaming and nodding up at him each time he paused for breath.

You were quick to duck away once the song ended, making up a hurried excuse about needing water and scurried over to the drink table, grabbing a goblet from a passing servant.  Glancing around, you saw Aemond almost immediately.  He was chatting with a short curvy young woman, with red hair that tumbled in ringlets down her back.  Her amble bosom was straining against the pale blue corset she wore, and the way she looked at the Targaryen prince as she spoke made your teeth grind.

Your brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as you watched Aemond lean closer to her, far too close for your liking.  To your chagrin, another flower of a girl joined them, her delicate fingers coming to clasp Aemond about his wrist as she laughed at something he’d said.  He made no move to remove her hand.

Your heart dropped.  It became hard to swallow.

Aemond turned his head, feeling your attention upon him.  His eye met yours, but you quickly averted your gaze to the ground.  Your lips tugged down into a frown, the infuriating feeling of tears beginning to make your eyes burn.

Setting your goblet carefully back onto the table, you walked to the edge of the room where you stood observing the suddenly lurid scene of revelers. You hugged yourself, maintaining a neutral expression as yet another young man approached you asking for a dance.

“No, I’m afraid I feel rather unwell.”  You declined, shaking your head.

“May I retrieve something for you?”  He asked politely, looking mildly concerned at your wan face.

“That’s not necessary.”

He left you alone.  You sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to the gods.

You spied Aemond once again with those same two women, he was paying them attention but kept glancing over at you in the corner.  His expression had morphed from one of vindictive pleasure to barely concealed worry.  You watched him excuse himself from the ladies, peeling one of their hands off his arm before striding purposefully toward you.

Aemond came up to you just as another lordling attempted to ask you for a dance. “No.”  The prince growled, answering for you.  “She is not interested.”

The man looked around for the intruder, opening his mouth to argue but blanched as he saw who it was and made haste to put distance between himself and the Targaryen.

“Thank you.”  You said reluctantly, hugging yourself tighter.

“You are crying.”  Aemond stated, peering into your face.

“I am not.”

“What is wrong, Y/N.”

“What do you think?”  You cut your eyes over to where the women he’d been engaged with had their heads together, whispering.  “They seemed rather enamored by you.”

Aemond sighed, tilting your chin up with his finger. “This conversation is seeming rather familiar.”

“It’s not at all the same, Aemond.”

“How is it not?”

You refused to look at him, though his grip on your jaw tightened. “I will always only be interested in you! You have my adoration in its entirety.”

“You think I feel differently.”  It was not a question.  Aemond tapped your cheek with his index finger, his thumb stroking your quivering lower lip.  “Y/N, look at me.”

You raised your eyes to meet his.  Aemond’s expression was soft, tender even, as he gave you a small smile.

“I thought you were clever, Y/N.”

Your protestations were silence with a muffled “I ammfph!” as Aemond brought his mouth down hard upon your own.  His lips were hot against yours, you instinctively pressed flush against him as Aemond’s hands gripped low at your waist, his leg parting your thighs.  You tangled your fingers in his thick hair, pulling him further into you.  You felt a low wanting groan rumble in his chest, his breath filling your lungs as your tongues tangled together.

He broke away slightly placing a little peck to the tip of your nose.  Your head was spinning, but you noticed many eyes upon the two of you and the whispering of voices buzzing around the grand room.

“Perhaps that will alleviate those doubts from that pretty head of yours.”  Aemond ran the back of his finger down your cheek.  He leant in to place another, more chaste, kiss to your parted lips.

“What doubts were those again?”  You followed his movements with wide eyes as the prince took your hand in his, leading you back onto the dance floor.

He chuckled, leading you into the beginnings of a slow waltz. “Exactly.”

You glanced over his shoulder to the two women he’d been speaking to.  Their cheeks were flushed; they watched the movements of your and Aemond’s dance with expressions of shocked anger mixed with envy.  You hid your satisfied smirk in the crook of Aemond’s neck, breathing in his smell of smoke and leather.

“Something amuse you, my dear?” Aemond’s breath tickled your cheek.  He grazed his lips against the shell of your ear before kissing your temple.

“I think we’ve upset a couple women over there.”

“As if they could hold a candle to you in any way, perzītsos.”

And he kissed you again, in front of the gawking crowd.

[exhuastedpigeon]

Hi Han! buddie + 70 if it sparks joy? <3

Ali my dear, please enjoy 2k of fluff and smut.

We don't even have to try, it's always a good time Buddie || 2.2k || Explicit

Eddie was just minding his own business doing inventory when the door to the supply closet opened and Buck slipped in, closing the door quickly and quietly behind him. Usually, Buck sneaking off and finding Eddie alone meant he wanted to fool around, but they’d been much better about fooling around at work since Ravi walked in on them making out in the back of the ambulance.  They’d had to buy his silence with coffee from the good place, one halfway between Eddie's house and the station, for a month. Eddie wanted to avoid that happening again since it meant he’d had to cut back on his own fancy coffees that month. Buck had still always brought Eddie one when he did the Ravi coffee run though and it never failed to make Eddie grin when Buck slipped the cup into his hand.   “Can I help you?” Eddie asked, fighting back a smile because Buck looked a little bit like he’d just swallowed a lemon. He was pretty sure Buck wasn’t in here to touch his dick, not with that look on his face.  “I think that I may have made a tiny little mistake,” Buck said, reaching behind him to lock the door to the closet like he was expecting someone to come bursting in at any second and drag him off to prison.  “What did you do,” Eddie couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. Eddie loved every version of Buck, but there was something extremely endearing about this Buck, so panicked over something that was probably not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.  “My life is at risk Eddie, you shouldn’t be laughing,” Buck said affronted, which only made Eddie laugh harder.   “What did you do, Buck?” Eddie put down his restocking checklist to give Buck his full attention. He did his best to school his face into a neutral expression, but he could feel a smile that tugged at his mouth.  “I might have finished Hen’s tea last shift and forgotten to add it to the grocery list so now there isn’t any for her and she’s really mad.” “Oh yeah, you are a dead man. It was really great knowing you,” Eddie kept his voice as deadpan as he could as he spoke.  “Eddie!” “Buck,” Eddie laughed again. “I’m sure Hen’s not that mad.” “Where the hell is that long legged motherfucker!” Hen’s voice got louder with each word she spoke, pausing outside of the supply closet before getting quieter as she walked away. “I’m going to make him drink the shitty store brand tea for the rest of his miserable life.”

continue on ao3

[ariadne-mouse]

for the WIP ask game: I am INTRIGUED by Rosohna's #1 Essek Impersonator

You got it! This oneshot started as a crack premise, but in true me fashion I had to take it seriously. Comedically, but seriously. The primary context is this guy from everybody's hot new favorite game, Baldur's Gate III:

I haven't played the game, only watched friends play or otherwise absorbed secondhand content, but I know this guy Sorn Orlith is an employee at a brothel, and his chitinous-looking shoulder attire immediately made me think of Essek.

Then the idea sparked that if there are people in Rosohna's courts who are afraid of Essek but also in awe and otherwise impressed with him, it's possible someone decided to live out a fantasy or two at such an establishment. It starts with just one incident, but Sorn is too good at his job and soon there is actual demand for Rosohna's #1 Essek Impersonator in brothels all across the city. His career skyrockets. But with such a meteoric climb, it can only be so long before he runs into the man himself. What will the Shadowhand Essek Thelyss think of his sexy mimic? And more importantly, will Sorn survive the confrontation?

Here's a snip:

“You know, you look a little like him.” Keeping his face still as he applied the last coat of gloss to his plum-tinted lip, his reflection impeccable in the polished brass mirror, Sorn waited until he was finished before he gave a scoff.  “How would you know?” “I’ve seen him!”  His companion and colleague, Alie of No Den, was putting elaborate plaits in her hair, leaving her mouth free to say ridiculous things.  “Ask your sister, she knows.” Sorn stowed the pot of gloss back in its place.  “You’ve seen the Shadowhand Essek of Den Thelyss?  You?” “From a distance, yes.  He came to that restaurant by the smithy.”  “Oh?  How did you know it was him?” Alie looked at him like he was an idiot. “The floating?”

[archiveoftara]

Behind the scenes (part 2)

Part 1

Part 3

"Cam, we got a day off"

Impeccable timing Ali.

*Cameron's POV*

"Oh, you're awake. How's your hangover?" Ali gave you a grin.

"My head is still aching. Thanks for bringing me in, mate." Y/n said while scratching her head. Where's my thanks?

"What were you saying earlier?" I asked Ali.

"Ah. Our manager texted me that we have a off day. Change of plans, I guess." He said.

"Why don't we go out? I wanted to visit London for a long time. Can you guys show me around, if that's fine with y'all?" Y/n said in a timid voice.

"Why are you being so formal?" I asked in curiosity.

"I'm just being nice, Chapman." She glared.

"Let's meet at the lobby at 10?" Ali asked.

"Sure." Y/n said and left for her hotel.

"Did you confess?" Ali's eyes sparked at me.

"Thanks to your timing, I couldn't." I sulked.

"Hey, we got all day. We show her around London and when the timing's right I'll give you a signal. You can do this Cam!" He gave me a thumbs up.

I can do this, right?

......................

You got all dressed up in your favourite outfit. You made sure to take your Polaroid camera with you. You were excited to travel visit the city for the first time. You couldn't wait anymore and found yourself in the lobby ahead of schedule. You went to the nearest coffee shop to grab some coffee.

"Ah, it feels so good. This coffee is a bomb."

"Do you always talk to yourself?" You spun around to find a lad in a leather jacket with black jeans, wearing black sunglasses. He looks hot...what is wrong with me?

"Are you done staring?" Cameron smirked at you.

You looked the other way while sipping your coffee.

"Where's Ali?" The atmosphere turned awkward.

"He's still in the shower. I needed some fresh air so I left early." Chapman said. You responded with a nod.

God, this is awkward.

"Y/n, I am sorry." You gave a confused look to the poor boy. Before you could ask him, Ali showed up.

"Hey, sorry I took so long in the shower." He huffed and checked his watch.

"Damn, we're kind of behind schedule. Let's explore and have a great time guys" He said while holding you both in his arms.

"Someone's in a good mood." You muttered to yourself.

"Well why won't I be? It's a bloody day off. I need some quality time with my friends." Ali exclaimed. You grin in response.

At first, The boys took you to the minibus for the city tour. (we call it a double decker bus in our country, I don't know what English people call it. I hope you got the idea. Pardon me, if I'm wrong). The weather was sunny. Ali was cracking jokes and you were having the time of your life.

Then Cameron introduced you to his favourite restaurant. You had a delicious meal which led to a food coma.

After lunch, you found yourself surrounded by celebrities all around the world, of course wax figures. The Madame Tussauds. You saw pictures on social media and dreamt to visit this place before you die.

You couldn't contain your excitement and blurted "this is the best day of my life."

You didn't notice the way Cameron was looking at you. He looked at you with awe and adored every part of you.

You were too busy beaming in joy. You captured those lovely moments in your Polaroid camera.

Lastly, you found yourself sitting on the soft ground near the tower bridge.

The day was ending and the moon was rising above the sky little by little. You were shuffling through your pictures and talking to the lads.

"I'm so hungry. I'm gonna grab some snacks. Do you guys want anything?" Ali announced. You looked up and responded with a no. You carried on with your thoughts.

*Cameron's POV*

Ali gave me a signal and left the scene. Now, it's just me and y/n under the night sky.

"Hey, look here." She said while holding a picture of me and Ali making faces in front of the wax figure. "You guys look so funny, Jesus." She laughed. She seems so happy and pure under the moonlight.

"How was your day, y/n?" I asked her.

"Couldn't be better. The best day in my life, Chapman. When I first came to London, I didn't know a single soul here. I was so scared and felt homesick but you guys really made me feel at home." She said giddily.

Don't give me that look I'll fall for you even harder

"Huh?"

"Huh?"

"Did you say something?" She asked.

"Nothing." I said and got up from the ground.

I gave her a hand and she took it reluctantly.

"Y/n, I've been meaning to tell you this for a really long time." I said.

"Are you okay?" She asked in concern.

My palms were getting sweaty and my heart was beating faster like how I saw her for the first time.

"I like you. I've liked you since the day when we first met for the screen test. I know I've been a prick lately. I treated you awfully. I thought maybe If I make you hate me then I wouldn't have to confront my feelings but I was wrong. I tried to lose these feelings but I can't do it anymore." I poured my heart out to her.

"Cameron, I.. I don't know what to do with these feelings." She frowned.

"You don't have to do anything. I'm happy just the way we are, just the way we're friends. That's all I need. You make me happy, y/n." I look deep into her eyes.

"I thought I lost my friend." She whispered.

"No" guilt was taking over me

"That was a stupid move, Cam." She smirked.

"I'm sorry." I looked down.

Suddenly I felt her arms around me.

"I missed you, Cam." She nuzzles on my neck.

"I missed you too, y/n." I caress her hair.

"HEY, WHERE'S MY HUG?" Ali shouted at us.

We pulled and gave each other a smirk.

Y/n went to Ali and took the snacks from him. She came back to me with snacks in one hand and the other hand holding mine. "Would you like some snacks?" She said in mischief.

"Absolutely." I took her hand and ran.

"GET BACK HERE."

.

.

.

It's safe to say y/n found her old friend back and Cameron doesn't have to hide his feelings anymore.

Do you think y/n will like him back?

Do let me know in the comments.

[extasiswings]

‘til all my sleeves are stained red

I wrote this instead of sleeping...no regrets.  I’ve been obsessed with Crash and Learn as Buck, Actually - The Redux since Oliver said Buck connects with one of the Happiness Convention call victims in a big way, and...well...[Note: includes minor original character death (the call victim)]

“What’s the call, Cap?” Buck asks as the truck pulls out of the garage.

“Structural collapse at a Happiness Convention,” Bobby calls from the front seat. “It’s going to be all hands on deck. We’ve got a few other units meeting us there.”

“Happiness…Convention?” Eddie repeats, making a face. “What the hell is that?”

Buck opens his mouth, but Hen beats him to it. “I think it’s one of those conferences where people pay ridiculous amounts of money to pack themselves into a room with thousands of other people to listen to motivational speakers and so-called life coaches promise that if they just buy the latest self-help book, they’ll finally discover everything they want in life and achieve self-actualization or something.”

“Sounds like a scam.”

“Oh, 100%.”

“There are real professionals who do these things, you know,” Buck points out. “Licensed doctors, therapists—”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. “Depending on how much one of these conventions costs, I would think you could find a therapist to work with one-on-one instead of listening to a bunch of generic advice directed at a whole roomful of strangers by someone who doesn’t know you.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when you were extolling the virtues of individual therapy,” Buck shoots back.

“Well, fifty minutes with Frank is less painful than that self-help book you left on my coffee table.”

From someone else, it might sting. But Eddie’s tone is gently teasing, his eyes sparking with warmth as a wry smile plays over his lips. And Buck knows he’s thinking about the other night, when they were on the couch at Eddie’s house and Christopher had started flipping through the book, not bothering to hold back his opinions.

”What is this supposed to do?”

”It’s teaching me about achieving transcendence,” Buck explained. “That’s what comes after self-actualization.”

Christopher snorted. “Buck, you don’t even own a couch.”

”Hey now—”

Buck’s own lips curve up despite himself, and he shakes his head as a laugh slips out. “I’ll remind you of that the next time you complain about him asking you to journal.”

“The point being—” Hen interjects. “—I don’t think someone can teach you how to be happy and what’s going to make you happy by giving a speech at some conference. Happiness is individual—it’s something we all have to figure out for ourselves. There aren’t any shortcuts.”

There’s a ring of truth in that, and Buck looks away, out the window.

The thing is, he’s been searching for so long for…he doesn’t really know. Love? Acceptance? Something to fill the void in his chest that aches for something that feels like it’s just his, something that’s constant, something he can keep. Abby wasn’t it. Ali. Taylor definitely wasn’t it—not when having her meant cutting away other pieces of himself until he almost didn’t recognize the person he saw in the mirror. And he’s tired of looking. Tired of trying so hard. So at this point, the idea of having someone else just tell him what to do? Tell him what’s going to make him happy? Sounds pretty nice.

“Alright, we’re almost there,” Bobby calls back. “Let’s focus.”

The scale of the call may be big, but there isn’t anything terribly complicated about it. Buck starts up on the highest floor where the collapse had begun and works his way down to the lower floors, helping people he comes across on autopilot. He thinks he’s almost finished clearing the next floor down—is giving it a final sweep while Eddie and Hen take a patient out to the ambulances—when he hears the ringing of a cell phone and a faint groan.

The man is trapped under a mountain of debris that covers him from the chest down. The phone is just out of his reach, although his fingers twitch towards it in a valiant, if useless effort to answer.

“LAFD,” Buck announces as he drops to his knees. “I’m going to get you out of here as soon as possible, sir—can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?”

The man coughs weakly and forces a faint smile. As Buck looks closer, he realizes the man is younger than he would have thought at first—maybe just in his late thirties, early forties at most.

“Tom,” he rasps.

“Hi Tom. I’m Buck.” Buck slips his fingers into Tom’s. “Squeeze my hand? —great, that’s good. How long have you been—”

He’s interrupted when the phone starts ringing again.

“My best friend,” Tom explains, face pinching in discomfort as he tries to reach again. “He keeps calling—think he got worried when I stopped responding to his messages, or maybe this whole thing was on the news. He told me not to come to this thing, you know. Told me it was a waste of money, that I didn’t need some scam-artist to tell me how to be happy. Guess I should have listened.”

[Read the rest on ao3]

[daydream-cement]

Cold Dead Heart Ch. 1

Marilyn Thornhill x OC (Rowan Ali)

Authors Note: Expect so much NSFW content. i know you guys hate the dirty stuff but oh well, you will live.

“God, you look delicious.” You gasped as you held Marilyn against a wall, licking a line up her neck where you knew the jugular vein lay. She couldn’t deny that she was absolutely terrified and aroused to be pinned underneath you. You could kill her at any moment if you wanted to, but what would be the fun in that.

This had become a bit of a normal occurrence since you met her at the office party. You would pull her into the broom closet between your classrooms just to fuck with her a little bit. You knew that you could have her crawling to your coffin by the end of the week if you kept this up. The one thing you hate/loved was how her touch against your bare skin ignited such a warmth that you considered you might be ill.

She moaned underneath you as you unbuttoned her shirt and pushed it over her shoulders so you could suck at the flesh of her shoulder. No on ever tasted this good. Everything in you wanted to bite her, just to see what she really tasted like.

“Tell me what you want?” You ask, slowing yourself down as soon as you registered that you were thinking of biting her. Your breathing was heavy as you stared down at her. Your hands were pinned above her head. She looked like s frightened animal and it was sparking the most dangerous of desires in you.

“Kiss me.” Marilyn’s fingers reached for your belt loops, pulling you closer. Hungrily, you step towards her, picking her up and pressing her against the wall. Her arms wrapped around your neck as she dives in for a kiss. Everything about your kisses in that broom closet was filled with hunger and desire. You wished you didn’t want to do the most torturous things to her, but you could feel the dark aura lingering under her facade and you wanted to punish her for it.

You couldn’t help it when your mouth kissed its way back to her neck. With her gasped and moaning, she didn’t seem to mind either. The bell rang, but you ignored it. The feelings you had towards her body were deep and intense. You almost wanted to rip her limb from limb just to stifle the desire.

“Dr. Ali… Uhm, Dr. Ali…” Marilyn’s hands came to your face, there was that warmth again, pulling you away from her, “I think it’s time for class.”

You were panting above her again. What was it about her that made you like this? You never had a problem controlling the more unappealing side of your vampirism, but with her it was nearly impossible. You hated that she had any power over you.

You slowed your breathing to normal, but kept your hungry and seductive stare, "Very true Ms. Thornhill. Have a wonderful day."

She stayed there between your arms for a few seconds more, almost like she was expecting something. Marilyn's eyes fell to the floor and she tucked under your arm, leaving you behind in the broom closet.

-------

"Are you talking about 'tall hot lady'?" Fern Rogers, your long-time best friend and old Nevermore roommate, asked over the phone.

"No, no, no. She's just a friend. I'm talking about this new redhead. I don't know what my problem is. She's just so- so-"

"Entrancing?" She had been listening to you go on and on about Marilyn. You didn't share her name, however. Your flings always remained anonymous when your feelings were potentially involved.

"That's not even the right word. I've never wanted to fuck and kill someone more, Fern." As usual, you were ungodly honest with your old Nevermore roommate.

"I think the former is acceptable in polite society." Fern laughed a bit at your statement, secretly hoping that you were being hyperbolic. She always encouraged you to never kill people.

You walked back and forth next to the chalkboard in your classroom. The semester was starting to get stressful with the Rave'N next week and these new primal urges were distracting you from accomplishing anything, "Everyday we spend prep in a broom closet. We haven't even had sex, Fern. What is wrong with me? Am I ill?"

"I don't think vampires can get ill, but I'm not a doctor. As the late, great Rowan Ali once said, I'm really going to need you to get your shit together." You laughed at her attempt to cheer you up by quoting the same phrase you had told her throughout high school, undergrad, and graduate school. You did need to get your shit together. You needed to be the person you were before you even met Marilyn Thornhill.

"You're right. You are so right. I'm going to seduce her and get it out of my system. Then I can hit it and forget it." You nod as you speak, reaffirming your own brilliant idea.

"No, Ro. That's not what I said. Maybe you could try dating-" Fern tried her best to redirect you, but you really didn't want to listen to her ideas right now. Dating wasn't an option for you and you definitely weren't going to date a normie. You outlived normies and outcasts and you decided long ago that dating other vampires wasn't an option either.

"You are so right. I just need to get it out of my system. How did you get so smart? It's like you have a doctorate or some shit." You begin teasing her, knowing that she was rolling her eyes on the other end of the receiver, "When are you gonna come here and live with me? You could work at Nevermore. You can leave Sadie and-"

"Her name is Sarah and we are doing great. Thank you for asking." Fern was lying to you. You could hear it in her voice, but you knew she would come to you with her problems when she was ready.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay, sweets. I have a date with destiny. Talk with you later." You wrapped up the phone call, ending it before Fern can turn the conversation back to your life.

"Sounds good. Love you."

"Yeah whatever." You paused a moment before returning the sentiment, "Love you too."

------

You strode down to the teachers lounge, knowing exactly what you would say to Marilyn once you found her. You were partially down the stairs of the astronomy tower when you nearly ran into her. You smirked when her hands placed themselves on you to stabilize herself and then you smiled even bigger when you realized that she was coming up to see you.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Thornhill." You grasp at one of her hands, resisting the temptation to raise it to your lips.

"Dr. Ali, I was just coming up to see you and I-" Her voice was so subdued. You wanted to know what lay deeper under the surface. You wished you weren't so curious so you wouldn't have to know what lay under the surface.

"Would you care to come over tonight?" You raise a hand to her face, tracing the curve of her cheek. You watched as she leaned into your touch, closing her eyes.

"For dinner?" Her tone was unreadable. Did she want to come over for dinner or was she looking for something more?

"No." You felt the tremble that coursed through her body. Marilyn wasn't prepared for your answer.

[tawaifeddiediaz]

tbf some of us are complaining about this feeling like eddieana/bucktaylor again because it feels like an unoriginal rehashing of those storylines, not just because of love interests per se

but is it? is it really?

before i say anything, i want to preface by saying that everyone is entitled to their own opinion about things, and that being disappointed with how the season ends is a valid feeling to have. except the way that this has spiraled through fandom with all these comparisons indicates that no one's really understanding the use of these storylines to begin with. that no one's taking it with any amount of grace, between the constant negativity, review bombing, etc etc and that's why it's frankly annoying.

yes, there was the whole thing about this potentially being the series finale, and if that had happened, it would've sucked, but it didn't. there are still many stories to tell about this whole thing, why not focus on that?

back to your ask:

eddie, this whole season, has spent time fretting and spiraling about not wanting to be alone, now that he's actually in a place to move on from shannon - who, as we've found out this season, has potentially been his only partner before ana.

think about the way that it is only this season that pepa starts to set him up, and that it's only this season that he even considers it, even if it's for his aunt's sake and he wasn't initially happy with it. think about the way he's been going to frank to unravel some of these feelings, that he and chris are talking more openly about shannon, that eddie is allowing himself to feel his grief so he can carry the weight of it better.

marisol, regardless of how anyone feels about her, comes in front of him and he feels a spark of connection with her at the hardware store. and this time, christopher himself encourages eddie to call her, ending the conflict we saw at the beginning of the episode where he was trying to text her.

eddieana and eddiemarisol are very different just on the basis of how he reaches out to her. it remains to be seen how they intend to continue it, but for the purpose of his arc this season, he's taken the step, his son is on board, and he's moving towards a relationship where he feels less of the grief of losing shannon. those are three securities that eddieana did not have, because eddieana was how eddie was trying to move on from shannon's loss, while eddiemarisol is what he's doing now that he already has.

as for bucktaylor - natalia, whether we like it or not, gives buck something that no other character on the show gives, just by virtue of not knowing him. him dying isn't a tragedy to her the way it is to everyone else, and for buck, who's still grappling with the loss of his life and all, that is a big thing for him to find somewhere.

it's easy for us to sit here and say "eddie sees him" or "how does someone who's known him for 3 seconds know him better than all his friends" or "she sounds too fascinated" but buck does not get afforded the same view that we do. he is an unreliable narrator, going through the things that we see from a bird's eye view, almost.

yes, there are multiple parallels between bucktaylor and bucknatalia but again, those are things we see, as viewers. they're not things that buck is going to notice right off the bat.

that ending scene with the couch - if we absolutely must with this specific interpretation of the theory - ali and taylor both came with couches. this is one where he's taking an active role in purchasing it for his apartment, an active role in pursuing something that'll make him happy. will it pan out? who knows. but where his story stands right now, it's miles different from where buck and taylor where at the end of s4.

and if it's buddie goggles that we're trying to view this through, then i absolutely do understand the disappointment, but with s7 coming up, and so much more for them to flesh out (because 911 does sometimes spread storylines across multiple seasons), there's going to be a lot more to come.

anyway this got very long, but my point basically is that i don't understand how this feels like they're rehashing storylines because when i take a look at the path towards the decision they made with ana and taylor vs marisol and natalia, it couldn't be more different.

[lya-dustin]

All is Bliss

Chapter 55

Cw: mentions of murder.

Gif by @walkofpenance

Taglist @mercedesdecorazon @alexandria-millie @darylandbethfanforever9 @watercolorskyy @sweethoneyblossom1 @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Aemma and Aemond’s arrests are the spark that sets everything on fire.

The smallfolk adored her, mother had been right to say it would be a problem if she was allowed to see them. And it was, because no sooner had Aemma been confined to her chambers, Baela escaped and spread the word to everyone she met.

Some septons instead of keeping the peace and saying Aegon was the Gods’ chosen king ---as they did in the beginning— joined the plebs into condemning him.

Was Aemma not his lawfully wedded wife? Was she not his queen and mother of his heir?

They acted as if he had thrown her into the black cells ---as he did with his brother--- and not confined her to Maegor’s Holdfast.

“Ser Gwayne was found dead this morning; he was attacked by a mob waiting for him outside a sept. I took the liberty of having his body taken to the silent sisters and seized the people responsible.” Larys said as they met in private.

“Have his bones taken to Oldtown and make sure there is enough men to keep them out of the keep.” Everyone was plotting against him, no one agreed with Aemma and Aemond’s arrests claiming it would invite the wrath of her supporters. His council had hidden it well until Lannister asked on what charges.

He couldn’t say adultery for then he’d have to kill Aenys, and the baby was an innocent.

Larys had produced evidence of a plot against him that fell apart if you looked at it too hard but served its purpose. Unfortunately, they had to arrest and interrogate everyone who had begun to flock to Aemma after the birth of her son because they, as Larys told him, were all turn cloaks.

Some had died from the methods used by the king’s confessors and guards used to make up the numbers, the smallfolk had begun pelting shit at his men and now even the nobles hated him because he refused to let them leave court.

His old friends had not been spared, they too had followed the other turncoats and showered her with gifts like horses, carriages, jewels and someone even gave her a golden egg. A jeweled and gilded thing that was as large as to pass as a real dragon’s egg until you tried to carry it.

Aegon was alone.

Jena was good company, but she was Aemma’s lady, so he couldn’t trust her anymore. Alys was busy with Aenys and most of his comfort women were gone from court on his mother’s orders when he was injured.

He could still visit Aemma ---she was just next door--- but she was fuming, pacing like a caged animal and every time he looks at her, he is reminded that she only sees him as a friend.

A fucking friend!

Is he supposed to be content with crumbs while Aemond got the whole cake? Is he supposed to be satisfied to have a wife who likes him but doesn’t love him and never fucking will?

He had changed for her, and yet it had not been enough. He was never enough for her, for his mother, for his father and his fucking grandfather. Aegon was never good enough, always the disappointment when his younger brothers outshone him.

And if he was never going to be good enough for her, then why shouldn’t he be himself?

“He is ripe for the picking.” Jena mentions when they have dinner with Aemma in her apartments.

Aegon is not aware of how much freedom his prisoners have.

Aemond was not taken to the black cells as rumored, he was on the top floor of the dungeon tower like all highborn prisoners were taken to. He had his books, the leather ball he was supposed to toss back at little Aeg who had escaped the nursery that night, Septon Eustace filled him in with all the news above and Jasper tilled the soil to get him to join them.

Aemma was free to invite people to visit, held court downstairs in the Queen’s Ballroom and other salons and was as busy as a bee plotting her husband’s downfall while he prepared for his last battle.

The fleet was smuggling rebels into the city, leaving enough open space for the sell-sails hired to pretend to attack the bay and spreading all sorts of tales about poor queen Aemma and her dastardly husband.

The fool, Mushroom, and the scribes in their pocket were kept busy with crafting anything that would make Aegon’s reign and his remaining supporters into the worst people imaginable. Septon Eustace had contributed with all the juicy secrets he’d learned through confession and Maester Orwyle revealed to all who killed Lord Lyman Beesbury.

Queen Alicent the Pious must be turning in her urn, to have all her dirty secrets aired out from here to Yi-Ti and half of them being utter bullshit.

“No, he would not agree with killing Aegon even if he was in the blackest of the Black Cells. He’s still his brother, it is sin to kill your family and even if it weren’t he would not do it.” Aemma shook her head and drank her wine slowly. She knew Aemond to his core, in ways even Jena didn’t. Jena had assumed he’d be open to killing his brother for a chance at power, but he has some morals.

A shame.

“If he is still in prison, he cannot join the fight. Daemon loses some of its advantage if there is a dragon on our side. He’s summoned his daughter down from the Vale to show how woefully unprepared Borros is for this and if they were to have Vhagar onside it would give them a chance.” Jasper agreed with the queen and Jena supposed they were right. They had to send the Stormlords into the slaughter along with Aegon, so his supporters know they had truly lost. “Once the battle is close to over, we release him and have him know what is going on just in time to crown you Queen, your grace.”

“Or we simply let him believe we aren’t killing Aegon. He trusts you, Aemma, he knows you do not have it in you to kill someone ---besides Lohar--- and despite all the shit Aegon did to you, you wouldn’t have the courage to kill him. You are too good for such a deed.” Jena suggests, amending her husband’s plans to suit them.

Aemond would agree to the coup if Aegon is not killed. If Aegon were to die by someone else’s hand or scheme, Aemma would not be breaking her promise of not killing her husband.

Everyone wins.

“Actually, that night Ellyn was murdered, I helped Enola smother him with a pillow. He was dead when I left, and Enola killed herself to avoid capture.” The queen admits and Jena spits out her drink.

“Crone’s sagging teats!” Jena exclaimed as she cleaned herself up with the linen napkin on her lap. Jena had made her swear not to speak of it to anyone, not even Baela nor Helaena. They would think she was mad or turn her in to Aegon.

“What do you mean he was dead when you left?” her husband asks intrigued. Wait until he knows about Alys’ magical pox.

“As in not breathing, cold and lifeless under the pillow. And then the next morning he was fine and not as injured as he had been. Whatever Alys and Alicent did with Ellyn must’ve resurrected him that night.” The queen explained to the Master of Laws who knows they cannot let Alys live if they want to keep Aegon dead for good.

Aenys could have another wetnurse, as long as she doesn’t carry disease or anything that could harm him, there should be no issue with changing the breast that nurses him.

Alys was too dangerous to be left alive, something Aemma will have to reconcile with when it happens.

[pettypuppy-jonghyun]

Ignite | Lee Felix

Summary: a fantasy au where Felix controls the power of the sun, and his lover controls the moon

Warnings: mention of death, darkness, a little angsty plz take precaution

Dedicated to Aly for all the support and motivation I've been given 💛

Song of inspiration: Ignite by K-391

••••••2329 words••••••

In a brick house with a wooden rooftop you can hear every drop of rain as it falls. The sound of it trickling down the plastic tubes set out against the sides, planted there to help prevent a leak, echoed in the small space. The wind pushed against the tarp that was put in place as a substitute for a front door.

It wasn't really a home anymore, could barely pass as a shelter from the rain, but it had been a home for someone long ago. A place that a family could gather every evening to share warm meals and laughter-things that sounded so comforting to me right now. A pleasantry this place could no longer afford.

It was far too cold to stay forever. My hands were rubbing furiously at my arms to keep warm as I paced beneath the wooden sheet that protected me from the storms wrath. A thin coat that barely clothed any skin was laying far from me, soaked in the energy-draining rain.

In this world, when the rain comes, our powers dim. There had only been a small number of storms like today that wiped the energy from so many souls, leaving so many people without a place to go and family to be with. This storm was destructive, and it didn't stop for days, taking away every person in its path. No one was spared. We had gone so long depending on our powers that it forced us to hide any spark of power in ourselves and abandoned our livelihoods, leaving many hopeless and lost.

It came out of nowhere. It was only a few days ago when I was back home studying for a final college entrance exam. My hair was bothering me a lot that day, so I wanted to use the moon's gravitational pull to hold it back. It was a petty and simple use of my powers, for how grand they really are. I didn't know then that taking advantage of it that day was all I had left. When I reached my hand up to snap my fingers and call upon the moon's power to my will, the lights in my house had gone out. I remember running down the stairs to question the blackout with my family, who'd already been outside on the porch before I could register.

The whole world was in a blackout simultaneously. Everyone was unable to use any power they had to keep the world running again, or else it was slowly drained from them until there was nothing left. Nothing of them and nothing of their power. The rain came soon after the sun went missing. It poured heavily in an instant with no way for anyone to prepare. My family went into hiding soon after.

"Where is the sun?" everyone asked. The life of our world revolved around the solar power from the sun, and without it, everyone's powers were all greatly weakened. Thus, a terrifying storm came brewing to suck away anything that was left. My family and I were separated quickly because of it.

"Where there's a moon there's a sun", they used to tell me all the time. I grew up hearing those words a thousand times like I brought the reassurance of the world's safety because I possessed Lunar magic. To those around me, I was the safety net they could fall on in uncertain times. But the more days that passed with no sun in sight, they began to lose faith in me.

A sudden harsh movement on the blue tarp catches my attention. I froze as I watched someone push past the barrier, barging into the shabby home and allowing rain in. My heart sped up from the fear of not being able to see who was in front of me. But the voice that called my name so sweetly put me at ease instantly.

"Oh Felix!" I cried out, reaching towards him and wrapping my arms around his neck. He embraced me just as tightly, squeezing me to his chest and burrowing his face in my shoulder. "You're alright!"

Felix pulled back, hand reaching up to tuck my wet hair behind my ear. His brown eyes glowed a brilliant gold as he looked at me tenderly. I knew he could see me perfectly, even in this darkness. Because he was the light.

Where there's a moon, there's a sun.

"My sweet love," he whispers. "I'm so glad I found you."

My head fell into his chest, his hand coming to the back of it to soothe me. I began to sob, fists clenching tightly on the lips of his jacket collar. The cold air made my throat sore but I couldn't pay much mind through my tears. I was so relieved to see him. He was okay. He was safe. And he was in my arms.

After a moment we separated enough to move from the tarp at the front of the house and towards the back where less water came through. He gently guided me by my arms while sitting us both down, never letting me go too many steps apart. His glowing eyes were all I had to see. I didn't want to look away in fear the light would leave me again and I'd be alone.

"You're freezing." His right hand brushed my cheeks that stung from the sharp air. "Let me warm you up."

Felix put his hands out like they hovered over an invisible globe. A yellow spark ignited in thin air, making me gasp. "Felix, stop!" My hand encaptured his to prevent any further action.

"You'll freeze to death if I don't use my power to heat you up."

I shook my head. "Please, I don't want to lose you. If the rain drains away your power you'll die. Felix, please."

He shrugged off my hands and continued to try another spark. "I control the sun, my luna. The only thing that brings light to darkness. I'm the reason this rain is here to begin with."

The spark created a sphere of power between the center of his palms. The warmth immediately radiated from its yellow hue, slowly drying up the rain droplets from my clothing. I sighed heavily, feeling relieved at the heat but still anxious about the rain. The storm clouds were still hovering above us. It wasn't safe to project power in such an unsecured place. Still, having him with me was such a reassurance in itself. He was my other half.

"Where have you been?" I finally mustered out the question, staring into the yellow glow with hazy eyes.

His gaze fluttered to my own, eyes softening. "Some things we are better off not knowing," he replied calmly, his voice not once wavering. "If I could tell you everything, I would. In due time."

Gently, I raised my fingers to hover over his glowing ball of heat. I had seen it so many times before over the years we've been together. To us, it was a great source of light when we stayed out late and wandered parts of the woods no one had ever been before. Our innocent memories of sharing powerful energy for the most piffling circumstances flashed through my mind as I now became so dependent on it. Scenes of us practicing how to use it in school arose.

When the tips of my fingers touched the protective bubble surrounding the power, the loud sounds of the rain suddenly quietened. The yellow hue pulsated at the sensation of my energy flowing into it, turning into an intense orange color. Felix rotated his wrists at the action, twirling the orb slightly before releasing it. It hovered in the air by itself like a miniature sun before us.

I looked up to the wooden plank where the leaks lessened. "The rain is calming," I announce, finding my heart beat coming back down a normal rate as well. "Do you think it will end soon?"

His beautiful freckles were luminated by his globe. The shadow of the light highlighting my favorite feature on him. The gold in his eyes less noticeable than it was in the dark. They met mine with a flicker of despair. He had suffered just as much as I did in this storm.

"My dear luna," he calls my nickname so sweetly. "You know this rain came because there was no sun, right? The storm came hurling into the world with no warning and took out so many loved ones."

My teeth gnaw at my bottom lips as I listened to him. "Felix, its not your fault," I pleaded.

He shook his head. "If the sun fades away, we are all left vulnerable. I'm the only sun this universe has."

"You can't control when your powers fade! You didn't have a choice."

Felix sighed heavily, grasping my hand in his and pulling it to his lap. He picked at my old nail polish softly. "When I left you that day, to follow my uncle, we realized something horrible about this storm. And my power."

I waited to hear his next words. I anticipated his every breath, too scared I'd be alone in the dark if he never spoke again. When my heart picked up, so did the rain.

"Where there's a moon, there's a sun," he quotes. "Because if there is no sun for the moon, the darkness of the moon shines the brightness. And the world is left as nothing but a black hole that everyone succumbs too. For the moon's only light is the sun."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I had never heard that part of the quote before. I tightened my hand around his. "Where did you learn that?"

"The old cave down at the end of the village. Behind the waterfall. It's walls tell the legend of the moon goddess who fell in love with the sun god. When the sun god's power grew weak and was on the verge of extinction, after a new god with the power of the sun was born, the moon goddess's heart hardened. She vowed to destroy the universe if the new god replaced her lover, because it would be the cause of his death.

Her darkness reigned over the universe for a century. Gods and goddesses of all different powers came together to end her destruction. But the only way she could be stopped was if her lover's light luminated again. So the new god gifted the power back to the original sun god, allowing him to continue to live. The pair were always together to keep the peace once again. If the moon goddess appeared, dazzling in the nights sky, it meant the sun was not too far away."

"The moon goddess's powers belong to me," I continued, filling in the blanks. "And the sun to you. That's why those who gained the power of the sun and moon were fated to be lovers until death."

He nods, patting my hand. "This means that you also have gained her emotions and strong will with the power. When I left to tour the world with my uncle, even the promise to come back to you was not enough. The moon goddess was unhappy."

I retracted my hand as a shiver ran down my spine. My stomach curled as I processed the information he told me. I shook my head a few times, mumbling words under my breath. It was impossible to believe. Accepting the truth when it's put so plainly. The disturbing reason behind such a deadly rain.

"It's me," I whisper in distraught. "I created the rain."

Felix's hand cupped my cheek tenderly. "You had no control over it, my love. Please don't blame yourself. It's my fault too."

"How could you say that? When you didn't know this would happen? I caused a blackout for the entire world!"

He smiled bitterly. "This is the curse of our love. If we are ever far apart, my powers fade and your darkness reigns. We can't control it."

Tears began to silently fall down my face like a river stream. My lips trembled in fear as another sob broke through. "What are we going to do?"

He pulls me into his chest, holding me tightly. "We can't change the past," he admits sadly, recalling the many lives that may have been lost. "But we can stop the rain now. The longer it continues the worse this will get. I'm here now, so the rain can be put to an end."

"My mother's healing power!" I suggest at the sudden thought. "Those with healing powers can revive the souls who were lost!"

Felix's hand came to soothingly rub my back. "Though their powers would be weak upon revival, they may be able to get it back. It might take some time."

I sit silently, peering over his shoulders and to the damp ground. My mind spun at all the thoughts racing through it. I fiddled at the nail polish Felix was previously picking at. My heart pulsated against my chest in anxiety. Although it was absolutely terrifying at the idea all may have been potentially lost, I could swallow the idea it was fixable. As long as Felix was by my side, it was all going to be okay.

His hand clasped mine at our side. "I'm here now, so we can stop this rain. And save the people."

I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath. I didn't know how to control the storm, nor did I know that I even had the power to do so prior to him telling me. Still, I dug deep into the flame in my soul, calling upon the power of my ancestors to life and come forth. The orange globe reacted, it's light flickering over my eyelids. I mouthed ancestral words to myself until I heard the sound of the rains pitter patter come to an end.

[msclaritea]

"...Key players have completely fumbled their responses. Steven Yeun and Ali Wong, the stars of the series as well as two of its executive producers, have yet to publicly comment. Bogado and others posted the podcast clip on Twitter, only for it to be removed due to a copyright complaint ostensibly filed by Choe’s nonprofit.

Maybe in an earlier time, the relative scarcity of works like “Beef” would have silenced most of the critics — or at least caused them to keep their thoughts to themselves. If you’re always forced to be grateful for scraps, you’re especially vulnerable to being scammed.

But that’s not where we are today. These days, the Asian American media landscape is a land of milk and honey, fat with the success of “Crazy Rich Asians” in 2018 and the “Everything Everywhere All at Once” awards sweep this year. Hype is growing for the upcoming HBO adaptation of “The Sympathizer,” Viet Thanh Nguyen’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel.

So it behooves us all the more to pause and ask if separating this art from its artists is something that would truly benefit the “community” or something that would solely benefit Choe and his enablers, who cast him in a major production despite the highly public controversy over the podcast clip when it first came out almost a decade ago. They could have cast any of the many Asian American actors in that role but instead opted for someone whose entire media persona is based on a misogynist and racist reaction to the model minority myth..."

[badedramay]

I read something on twitter about how an actor's social circle plays a big role in them being considered a star in Pakistan. Like they said that actors like ahad,fawad and mahira know how to carry themselves in the public eye and are considered classy lending to their star power and how most young actors aren't from the elite class and don't have any backing either. So I have two questions can you explain who is considered elite/burger? etc in Pakistan and what role does social standing play in future of actors.

oh most definitely! see social class plays a big part in how many opportunities an individual gets in their lives. people from the privileged upper class living in one of the already few developed cities of the country will have access to the kind of options right from their foundational years that people belonging to middle / lower class people living in the underdeveloped cities would get to be aware of after they graduate high school if they are lucky enough. this already changes the starting line for the people. and even WITHIN the more developed cities the social class difference affects how an individual is groomed. for example, Mahira when she started as a VJ was already well spoken and had good communication skills owing to the kind of education she recieved. compared to someone like Sajal Aly who started in the industry very young and without having a proper education. if you'd just compare their debut years you can see the zameen aasman ka faraq in how the two carried and presented themselves.

to become a 'star' one needs to know the right people in the right places. and those places are very exclusive and hard for outsiders to get into. cuz stars are made. there's more to them than just their acting. there's a whole brand value they have which is meticulously created and perfected by an entire team working behind the scenes, often way before they even enter the industry. younger actors who come in the industry not knowing the right doors to knock have to wait for YEARS to be noticed by these 'star makers'. and there are also unfortunate cases of them falling in the hands of the 'wrong' mentors who just don't know how to make a star out of an actor. case in point Yumna Zaidi. the girl has been a brilliant actor since her debut year. it's only NOW she's being praised for being a star because it's only NOW she got to work with a team that's putting her in the right places and marketing her as more than just an actor known for doing serious dramas. i don't remember Yumna being so largely fangirled over her beauty the way I am seeing now. also I guess this ask was prompted by the Hamza vs Sehar post-Fairytale discourse happening on twt where Hamza is getting all the headlines and Sehar is just an afterthought despite both of them being headliners of the show. it's quite simple isn't it? Hamza knows the people in the right places. Sehar doesn't have that access. Hamza is able to turn the spark into a flame cuz he knows the right people to fan the spark. Sehar's spark will be extinguished with time if she doesn't get hold of the right fan.

one has to understand that in Pakistan the acting, especially the Lollywood industry, is not considered one for the "respectable" families. so forget anyone aspiring to become a star grooming themselves from early on, their first struggle is just to get the support from their families to pursue this as a career. sure times have changed now with more outsiders being able to make this a respectable career choice but the age old notions about this industry are still deeply entrenched in the minds of majority. the 'elite' class have no such notions because their social status protects them from a LOT of shit. it's all just connected. a person who has acting as a career that runs their household just will not have the same priorities as someone who doesn't have to worry about the financial aspect of it all. to become a 'star' lots has to be invested in it and it's not something an individual can afford on their own without strong backing.

Nepotism in Pakistan is rampant no matter where you look. one's parents or uncles or aunts or cousins etc will help get in a good word for someone at the right time in the right place just to get them through the door. cuz we are a very "you scratch my back I'll scratch yours" society. it's neither good nor bad, it's just how we live.

[artern]

the thing about commitment…

for someone who loves to fan the sparks, spontaneously reaching out to them, and then letting go when the sparks die out — she surely did not even think twice when she knew she would want to delve into the arts for the rest of her life.

my inner child surely paused in front of me, asking me to take it step by step, even if I was wholeheartedly sure.

so when someone asks me where do you see yourself in five years i could measuredly tell you about the secret desire tucked in the corner of my heart, a sweet whisper in my ears when i feel closer to the path. but i’d compromise to, fine arts for the next three years.

now that I know it’s more of an independent practice, one to follow the ebbs and flows of freedom. to play with the narratives, to explore, to try again.

there’s something about waking up each morning, knowing that you’ve got a story to tell, through the art. got a piece to make, resolved or not, or at least leave the studio with something closest to a piece. there’s some kind of commitment, to show up every day, with varying levels of motivation, inspiration, and drive.

i could have great, spontaneous ideas, note it down. but when I tell myself let’s work on this i see a blank slate. anything could happen, this narrative could go anywhere.

and still, there's the verithanam (the drive) -- the depth to meet the dream in the middle. swimming past the impediments to get there, if it comes with love, we give love back.

in no way, would I want to overwork myself. but till the time I surrendered to the practice, not think of how good the art should be. not think of whether it will be liked. but till the time I show up, time and time again. who knows, I might even get back to dipping my fingers everywhere, making a mess.

and the best part is, the mess is also a work in progress, just like anything else that is on the way to being a masterpiece. a set of stories I would have to share with y’all.

it’s like traveling the world on a bike and a backpack: you stop at coffee shops or motels to rest up and go again.

we are here for the journey. the in-between. it’s where the magic happens.

☕️

wherever you are, whenever you are reading this — I am rooting for you!

stay well, stay safe, stay hydrated.

suhoo :)

[bookishfeylin]

hiya this isn't really an ask or anything but I wanted to say that going through your blog and looking at the analysis of the books you provide has actually made me reconsider my entire perception of them. I was very young when I first read the series and I never actually went back to revisit ACOTAR after I read ACOMAF and I was very much pro-feysand before finding your blog and others like it. I'm almost considering ACOTAR as it's own book with the others as a different series. I feel like SJM has a huge problem w retcons, ACOTAR and ACOSF especially seem like they're about vastly different characters, but i never actually thoight about this bwfore reading your thoughts on it. rather than treating feyre as a character SJM reshapes her character to suit whatever suits the other characters stories - especially rhysands. I recently reread ACOTAR and feyre feels so vivid whereas in other books she loses her spark. I've shamelessly turned on your post notifs mainly because I feel like so many people are more inclined to stick to canon and accept SJMs changes to the books rather than thinking into them more deeply

Anon this is such a nice message! Thank you! And I'm glad you like my posts! Like you have no idea how legitimately happy this made me.

It's crazy how many retcons you can notice by simply rereading the books. Tamlin not enforcing rank? Lucien being pale and looking like Beron? Nesta not interacting with Tamlin at all when he came to take Feyre? Tamlin crawling for Feyre and being unable to do more because he was stabbed?

It jumps out to an insane degree, and at some point it gets very hard, for me at least, to view this series as one cohesive unit because big things start to be retconned. For instance, Feyre gets mad at Tamlin for not crawling for her and not protecting her UTM. But it's clearly stated he did crawl for Feyre, and he and Lucien and Alis all told her going in that Tamlin couldn't protect her UTM. This being retconned/ignored undermines her going UTM as an act of love in the first place--if she expected Tamlin to save her down there, then how is her going down there a great, sacrificial act of love? The answer is that it's not! Feyre expecting to be saved rather than her deciding to do the saving completely undermines her love for Tamlin and the entire point of the first book.

For another example: let's take Morrigan and Eris. I've mentioned my issues with ACOMAF before, and with the entire Inner Circle, including Mor, but... Sarah introduces her to us in ACOMAF as an empowered abuse survivor. As someone for Feyre to emulate. I may dislike Mor and the rest of Rhysand's circle, but that is her entire narrative function. She survived Eris' and her father's abuse, and is thriving now. She shows that Feyre can heal after surviving Tamlin's abuse. But fast forward to ACOSF, and suddenly, Morrigan is lying? Mor was never Eris' victim??? It makes no sense. Lucien calls Eris a snake. Tamlin clearly says that Lucien's two eldest brothers (which would include Eris) were involved in the death of Jesminda. Eris is a bad person(TM) (narratively speaking, though personally I don't have any strong feelings towards him. No hate to Eris stans). But this is all... retconned, as of ACOSF. Or at least, Eris claims he's not actually abusive, says that Morrigan is lying and that she "knows the truth" about what happened, and in ACOSF we're meant to sympathize with Eris and view him as a potential Night Court ally. If "the truth" is fully revealed in future books and Eris is retconned as never having been an abusive person, it undermines Morrigan's entire character as presented in ACOMAF. And considering ACOMAF is all about abuse and empowerment... that's a huge retcon for Sarah to make. Hell, having Eris say that Mor is lying about her abuse is... a choice.

So yes, you're 100% right. Sarah changes her characters and reshapes them as she sees fit (typically to make Rhysand seem awesome), often screwing over canon in the process. Who cares about consistency? Or accuracy? Or even doing justice to the themes being discussed? If I were to guess, the Eris retcon is probably intended by Sarah to make Rhysand seem less bad for making a deal with him in ACOWAR, since that drew a lot of ire from even the Pro Rhysand/ Pro Inner Circle side of the fandom. If Eris never abused Mor, then in ACOWAR Mor was just overreacting to Rhysand dealing with him, and Rhysand can't be in the wrong for working with Eris behind her back. It sucks to watch Mor's entire character be torn down so that Rhysand seems less horrible, but that's Sarah's MO at this point.

And as you mentioned, we sadly see this happen with Feyre. Feyre has (I would argue) a distinct POV and character when we begin ACOTAR. She has the mind of both a hunter and an artist, and this is reflected in how she narrates, in her interactions, and in her decisions. It's a good balance of both. But after ACOTAR, she loses that characterization, and (sadly) becomes pretty much a camera for us to observe Rhysand through. Her entire narration becomes about Rhysand. Her actions and choices always go back to what Rhysand wants. Even her hobby, painting, goes back to Rhysand--she was painting things he sent her through the bond. She suddenly ceases to be her own character, and merely becomes a puppet for the reader to interact with Rhysand through. That's it. That's why she's not allowed to be upset when Rhysand keeps information from her, when Rhysand tortures her, when he sexually assaults her. Because she's merely the puppet for the audience to interact with Rhysand through, not a character unto herself. And it enrages me on her behalf.

[shrinkthisviolet]

🌀❄️☔

🌀: Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing…

Summary is a work in progress, but:

After competing in the tournament, getting a broken knee for her trouble, and still not even being able to go home, Sam just wants some normalcy as she finishes her junior year with Tory and Aisha, with Daniel finishing his junior year. But between the Cobras’ anger at her trouncing them, Daniel and Ali’s thriving relationship, and her own complicated feelings about Johnny Lawrence, “normalcy” might be asking for too much.

(It’ll be posted one day, I promise! CK muse just isn’t super active lately 😅 and this being an interlude, not tied to a specific movie or season, means it’s not as easily sparked as some of the other fics in this AU)

❄️: Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing

“Is there a reason that Stein’s brain is in control of Ronnie's body, not the other way around?” Barry asked. “Simple Darwinism, I suspect,” Dad replied. "A brand-new organism will select the strongest parts of itself in order to survive. Survival of the fittest. In this case, Ronnie's body, Stein's mind.” Morgan frowned. “Ronnie was plenty brilliant.” “Goodness,” Dad remarked with a wry smile, “someone’s in a mood today. I never said he wasn’t, Morgan. Dr. Stein is more…quantifiably brilliant, that’s all.”

Hey Eowells...you might wanna dial back the passive-aggression, the Team is gonna start to get concerned if you don’t!

☔: Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Sith Luke in the Lucy AU is a concept I think about a lot! Idk how I’d ever make it work, but Jedi Lucy vs Sith Luke…and especially if Lucy’s the one who has to then train Ben (and Rey ofc, since she’s Luke’s daughter whenever I can manage it)…*sigh* the angst potential.

I’ve talked about it before here, in greater detail, and I’ve written a snippet here!

wip ask game!

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

@synnrrgy asked: 🔥🔥🔥 EACH ONE FOR THE MAIN 3-

send me a 🔥 and i'll tell you one thing my muse finds attractive about yours

"Sparks can throw a fucking punch. Like seriously, they're a fuckin' Grade A asskicker."

"Ali... look, underneath the shit where she's gotta play her role, there's someone who wants to say fuck it and do what she wants. He's a rebel at heart."

"...and I just really, really like it when Mis picks me up."