#thank you for asking and sorry for the delay!

[thorraborinn]

hello there! today i came across a claim that sort of baffled me. someone said that they believed the historical norse heathens viewed their own myths literally. i was under the impression that the vast majority of sources we have are christian sources, so it seems pretty hard to back that up. is there any actual basis for this claim? thanks in advance for your time!

Sorry for the delay, I've been real busy lately and haven't been home much. Even after making you wait I'm still going to give a copout answer.

I think the most basic actual answer is that it's doubtful that someone has a strong basis to make that claim, and the same would probably go for someone claiming they didn't take things literally. I think we just don't know, and most likely, it was mixed-up bits of both literal and non-literal belief, and which parts were literal and which parts weren't varied from person to person. We have no reason so suppose that there was any compulsion to believe things in any particular way.

About Christians being the interlocutors of a lot of mythology, this is really a whole separate question. On one hand there's the question of whether they took their myths literally, and on the other is entirely different question about whether or not we can know what those myths were. Source criticism in Norse mythology is a pretty complicated topic but the academic consensus is definitely that there are things we can know for sure about Norse myth, and a lot more that we can make arguments for. For instance the myth of Thor fishing for Miðgarðsormr is attested many times, not only by Snorri but by pagan skálds and in art. Myths of the Pagan North by Christopher Abram is a good work about source criticism in Norse mythology.

Though this raises another point, because the myth of Thor fishing is not always the same. Just like how we have a myth of Thor's hammer being made by dwarves, and a reference to a different myth where it came out of the sea. Most likely, medieval Norse people were encountering contradictory information in different performances of myth all the time. So while that leaves room for at least some literal belief, it couldn't be a rigid, all-encompassing systematic treatment of all myth as literal. We have good reason to believe they changed myths on purpose and that it wasn't just memory errors.

I know you're really asking whether this one person has any grounds for their statement, and I've already answered that I don't think they do. But this is an interesting thought so I'm going to keep poking at it. I'm not sure that I'm really prepared to discuss this properly, but my feeling is that this is somehow the wrong question. I don't know how to explain this with reference to myth, so I'm going to make a digression, and hope that you get the vibe of what I'm getting at by analogy. Edward Burnett Tylor (1832–1917) described animism in terms of beliefs, "belief in spiritual beings," i.e. a belief that everything (or at least many things) has a soul or spirit. But this is entirely contradicted by later anthropology. Here's an except from Pantheologies by Mary Jane Rubenstein, p. 93:

their animacy is not a matter of belief but rather of relation; to affirm that this tree, that river, or the-bear-looking-at-me is a person is to affirm its capacity to interact with me—and mine with it. As Tim Ingold phrases the matter, “we are dealing here not with a way of believing about the world, but with a condition of living in it.”

In other words, "belief" doesn't even really play into it, whether or not you "believe" in the bear staring you down is nonsensical, and if you can be in relation with a tree then the same goes for that relationality; "believing" in it is totally irrelevant or at least secondary. Myths are of course very different and we can't do a direct comparison here, but I have a feeling that the discussion of literal versus nonliteral would be just as secondary to whatever kind of value the myths had.

One last thing I want to point out is that they obviously had the capacity to interpret things through allegory and metaphor because they did that frequently. This is most obvious in dream interpretations in the sagas. Those dreams usually convey true, prophetic information, but it has to be interpreted by wise people who are skilled at symbolic interpretation. I they ever did this with myths, I'm not aware of any trace they left of that, but we can at least be sure that there was nothing about the medieval Norse mind that confined it to literalism.

For multiple reasons this is not an actual answer but it's basically obligatory to mention that some sagas, especially legendary or chivalric sagas, were referred to in Old Norse as lygisögur, literally 'lie-sagas' (though not pejoratively and probably best translated just as 'fictional sagas'). We know this mostly because Sverrir Sigurðsson was a big fan of lygisögur. But this comes from way too late a date to be useful for your question.

[mylosz0]

awaa - i see your jujutsu kaisen request event!! please... date night with todo, please please please, i love him so much <3

Ahhh!!! Thanks for the request,sorry it’s late I’m currently sick so I had to delay it 😔, also I’ve been wanting to write for Todo sm <3 he’s so cute, he’s my baby.

Todo who had it all planned, he was gonna pick you up and surprise you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, compliment you from head to toe and give you the sweetest kiss. So why couldn’t he utter a single word as you stood right in front of him looking like the most beautiful human in the entire world.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You said cheeks flushing from his stare as he moves closer to you.

“No no… you just took my breath away for a second there.” He grins cheeks flushed with a small blush as he leans down to give you a sweet kiss. “You look beautiful baby.”

Todo who drives you to get take out of any food you’re craving that night before taking it over to the little picnic area he had found earlier that week. He lights a few candles around you as you start digging in the food while you guys talked and laughed about anything and everything.

“I was bent down laughing over it.” He says laughing hard.

“Yeah I bet, I can just imagine Gojo’s face.” You say as you join him laughing.

Todo who cleaned up everything as you sat close to watch the moon. The moonlight hitting your face making you seem so ethereal. To him you’re always gonna be the most beautiful being in the universe not for a second would he doubt that. He couldn’t wait for the moment where he would ask you to marry him. Maybe in a few months when you graduate or years from now. But he knows you’ll be by his side forever.

“You’re so beautiful baby.” He says as he reaches a hand to your hair pulling it back to see more of you. “My beautiful girl.” He smiles tenderly as he kisses your cheek chuckling as he notices your small blush.

“Shut up.” You say playfully pouting trying to not smile, but failing as he brings you to his chest as his chest rumbles with a laugh.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” He kisses your head stroking your hair as you both enjoyed the warmth of each other for the rest of the night before he brought you home.

[claudiajcregg]

S5 Pregnancy AU - I’d love to hear about!

Welp, this is embarrassing – mostly because this has been sitting in my inbox for almost two weeks, and I kept saying “I need to write something up!” and then… I didn't. (Or rather, I did, then I forgot to post it.) Sorry for the wait, Lil! Thank you for asking <3 (I'll divide this up because I keep writing about the process and how it came to be, instead of any actual, interesting facts.)

I have talked about this one in the past though I don't have a tag for it. The gist is what it says… (Early) S5 but CJ is pregnant. I had this idea over a year ago when I hit mid/late S4 in my rewatch. I thought it'd be interesting to explore some of her disappointment at that time if you added an unexpected pregnancy to it, even if I had the idea before even getting there, lol. Think, the ending-ish of Han, or parts of Disaster Relief. (Both of which do feature! I surprisingly focus a lot on Disaster Relief.)

The thing with S5 is that the timeline is so weird, and I feel I've also created one that isn't entirely realistic but I think it works within the story. (IIRC, the season starts in “May” but also July, then the Shutdown is in November, lmao. A few of the episodes are sneaky two-parters that flow into each other… See 5-6, 7-8.) I've finally gotten out of the no-man's-land I wrote myself into and the next chapter or two, knowing myself, will deal with 7-8! There are a couple of scenes that should be fun to write! (There are so many details I want to mention that are technically spoilers for early twists…)

Every time I had the urge to write it, I'd edit whatever outline I was working in, and though I kept some details… my muse decided to make a big change early on that completely changed the fic's direction. That, and my inability to write anything succinctly. No reason why this story will cross the 100k barrier in a couple of chapters, tops. (It's sitting at 85k across 12 chapters. I think it'll be less than 20 chapters total. Hopefully.)

This might be too long to share snippets, but I've shared some either on the server or here, a couple of months ago.

For more irrelevant details on the “process”…

As I hinted at, I wrote an outline or two around this time last year, because I couldn't stop thinking about it. When I say outlines, it's a general path for the story to follow – ideas, suggestions of dialogue and/or scenes I write to myself; all focused around some sort of chapter structure. I find it much easier to write if I write down where a chapter might go, even if it's just a few lines saying “This happens → then this → finally this;” otherwise, it takes me months. Some would say that I should post it and get encouragement that way but… I hate being dependent on something I can control even less than my muse? That's not for me, thank you. Mad respect for those who work like that.

It was meant to be short – 1-2 “long” chapters per trimester, more if needed, but then interludes in between trimesters. It's not that. Most chapters currently cover 1-2 weeks, but there is not really a pattern. I was afraid of having a fic that would take over my life like the WOWO did three years ago… And it has, but I've also taken breaks and not felt too guilty about them. I definitely don't want this one to sit in my drive and have me wondering what to do with it.

(The novel, aka WOWO, aka IM AU (2021): 150k written in a little over five months, even with extended breaks over the summer. Still hits, even with all its crazy decisions, maybe because of them, but it's also been too long, and it will always remind me of someone who kinda hurt me. Attempts to replace those memories by sharing the story with others, trying to gather whether it's worth posting, have failed, lmao. One day! Maybe!)

But yeah. Uuuuuhhhh. As I've said… Twelve chapters in ten months, 85k words… It's still not done. In fact, I've repeatedly said I am unsure of how to end it (beyond the obvious), but I'd estimate it to be under 20 chapters. I'm not posting it anywhere yet because I want to be able to edit it as a whole and try to make it more consistent; to add little details as I come up with them. There's also the fact that I am not skilled enough to write a compelling story that mixes politics and emotion into something remotely engaging. As a result, the story's politics are very surface-level, and probably repetitive at points, but it's also true I've always been more interested and focused on the emotional journey and the relationship(s) at its center. (Which should surprise exactly no one who's ever read one of my stories.)

But, as critical as I might sound of myself here, I am having fun writing this and I'm committed to seeing it through. I just keep having ideas for stories down the line, putting actual show events through a 'but she also has a kid' perspective.

[corrodedcoughin]

So I know celebrity rockstar Eddie with Just-Some-Guy Steve is popular, but what about the opposite?

Steve, who is a professional Basketball player, got scouted from where he played for his college team. The fan fave, the darling of the locals, and one of the best players on the team. Models for sportswear brands, has had interviews and talks at schools and the media loves him. He's handsome, and nice, and has publicly come out.

And then there's Eddie. His boyfriend since college. Just some guy who runs a music store. Started just as a minimum wage worker and then slowly worked his way up to running a small business himself. Sells guitars and drums and other instruments. Vinyl and cds and music merch. Hosts guitar lessons. Is happy playing music because he loves it, not for the fame and money.

Eddie goes to all his games (or as many as he can) and while he's not a sports guy and never will be he loves watching Steve play. Is only about 80% sure of the rules at best and that's good enough for Steve. And Steve who's not a metal fan, and will never be into DnD but will spend his free evenings helping Eddie plan a campaign or listening to this song Eddie's been trying to learn on the guitar.

Idk I just think it's fun to explore the opposite! Eddie getting excited any time he sees people wearing Steve's merch in public and people keep mistaking him for a hardcore fan because no one knows who he is and honestly he's fine with that. He is a big fan of Steve

he's a big fan of steve' MOMO THAT LAST LINE TOOK ME OUT!!!! OHH!!!!

Okay so as always i am IN LOVE with your ideas and where you take them and explore with the space.

Please can I have Eddie who doesn't completely GET sports but he DOES get collecting so he has one of those card books and collects basket ball trading cards. He has a full page of 'Steves' that he every proud of because he's drawn on some of them, giving him different outfits/hair/facial hair/speech bubbles, some include dragon hatcher steve, android steve, malibu barbie steve and pronstache steve (that one wasn't even drawn on, Steve was just trying something new and it got immortailised in a trading card much to Eddie's delight. His personal favourite is a Steve mid spin of the ball on his fingertip, the image of concentration and Eddie has yet to see a photo that highlights the muscle and bite-ability of Steve's arms quite as well as that one.

When Eddie and Steve are out for dinner and Eddie sees a little kid wearing a shirt with Steve's name on it he's quick to point it out to the delight of his boyfriend, both of them trying to figure out a way to subtly let the kid know that 'Harrington' is here.

Eddie who turns up to games with the kids and a foam finger because 'Steve come on its hilarious' but in reality he just loves obnoxiously supporting him. Steve kisses his finger tips and waves to Eddie before running to join the team in the changing rooms. Eddie who catches it and stuffs it in his pocket in the most dramatic way possible. Steve who laughs every time because he wouldn't have it any other way.

[fantastic-nonsense]

Hi! I've never done this before but I'm new to comics (started with WFA and Zatanna and the Ripper) and I've basically got most of my information from posts on tumblr and r/hobbydrama (including yours.) I think I have a general idea of what Jason Todd is like, but I believe a lot of people are unhappy with his new characterisation.

So, if you were the one in charge, how would you write him? Would you write him with a team or as a solo character? Would you have him use the All-Blades or a crowbar or his guns? Would you have him properly rejoin the batfam or not?

Thanks!

Hi! Welcome to the fandom! I hope you're enjoying your time here.

In general, I think DC (and the fandom) has spent too much time milking Jason's death for trauma porn. They have refused to allow him to find closure, move past that, and exist beyond his daddy issues drama with Bruce. When DC has allowed him to have stories outside of that, they were often written with little consideration for what should be done with Jason beyond making him "badass."

None of this has been conducive to creating any kind of satisfying and coherent narrative or character arc for Jason, especially when both writers and editorial seem more obsessed with stealing traits, relationships, and stories from other people to give to him (most prominently Dick, Selina, and Helena). My hottake is that DC should move beyond "Red Hood" as an identity for Jason entirely, because it drags his character down and keeps him inherently tied to the same problems that have kept his character stagnant for years.

However! I don't think he's unsalvagable. I simply think DC needs to put a decent writer on him and commit to a character direction for more than 2 years at a time. I'm unsure of what Shawn Martinbrough is currently doing with Jason in his The Hill arc, as I'm not reading it, but I've heard that there might be some forward momentum finally happening there?

Anyway, my personal conception of Jason's future (as lovingly brainstormed by me and my friends in our comics discord server) is effectively this: he becomes a street-level paranormal detective who solves cold murder cases by talking with the victims' ghosts and providing closure to restless spirits. Think Lockwood and Co. meets Pushing Daisies with a superhero twist; basically, a supernatural detective noir book.

There's a lot of concepts and lore drops tied into this idea, but basically it was born out of a discussion where I was talking about Jason's many connections with the supernatural and occult across all continuities and how it's kind of a mystery why DC hasn't just formally connected him to the mystical side of the DCU. So I was like "they should just reveal that Superboy-Prime’s reality punch resurrection left him LITERALLY undead, make the event where he finds this out also spark his ability to see and communicate with ghosts, and make him an occult detective. Let him close cold case murder files and put those spectres to rest."

Which is also a great premise for a Bat book and a great unfilled niche for a Batfamily member. Kate's supernatural stories are much more high concept and connected to her family drama. Damian's supernatural/occult connections are traditionally very heavily tied to his family history and the Lazarus Pits. Dick's semi-regular magic encounters are usually stuff he deals with alongside his teammates in the course of working with the Titans. None of the other Bats have enough regular encounters with the supernatural and magic side of the DCU for it to encroach on their shtick, and a Gotham-based supernatural book is well within DC's ability to publish and market given books like Gotham by Midnight.

In terms of how that direction affects all the other questions you asked...I think Jason's relationship with the rest of the Batfam should be complicated. I personally don't think "good/bad relationship with the Batfam" is a particularly useful way to look at it because I think there are people he should never see eye to eye with, people he realistically shouldn't and doesn't have a problem with, and people he should get along with just fine. I don't think everyone needs to or should be friends or enemies with him, but his morals and past actions will (and should!) complicate those relationships in interesting ways.

And re: what weapons I'd like to see him use...using the All-Blades would certainly factor into my proposed narrative direction, as that would lean into the supernatural connections, but I generally prefer the concept of Jason using knives as his preferred weapon over guns/a crowbar/etc. That way he can still be a marksman without using guns, and I think that fits more with his character trajectory as someone attempting to be less lethal but also has no problem roughing people up when he thinks they need to be.

[wedontdeservethestars]

Johnny Cage x Edenian Royalty reader who gives up their title and moves to Earthrealm just to be with him?

I might continue this in a later series because I like their dynamic a lot!! So in this one the reader doesn't COMPLETELY forgive up on the crown yet....but the seeds are certainly planted

Content: gn!reader, fluff, some mentions of nsfw subjects but really not a lot, alcohol, kinda just a silly little feel good fic!

(AO3 link here!)

Earthrealm was a mystery. After spending your whole life learning the ways of Outworld and studying the intricate relations between clans and kingdoms, the other plane was unknown to you in a way that you could only describe as strange. But that was okay. You liked strange. Maybe that’s what drew you to Johnny. 

You had only been to Earthrealm briefly before in the days of Shinnok’s terror, and by proxy had met Johnny during that time. Almost immediately, he annoyed you. It seemed to be a common phenomenon. He was brash, rude, vain, and unapologetic about all of it–and all of that bothered you to no end. But he was strong, too, and surprisingly resilient. Even more surprising, he had saved your life on multiple occasions. Each time he pushed you out of the way of some projectile, or ran out into a battle to get ahead of you, or even just checked up on your wounds after a particularly bad fight (which, you noticed, he never did to anyone else), you started to see other things about him beyond his Hollywood-boy persona. Above all, he seemed to have a particular fascination with you. 

It made you sick to your stomach. Even more than that, it made you blush, which in turn only made you feel sicker. 

After everyone had returned home, bruised but victorious, you found your thoughts turning back to Johnny more often than you’d like to admit. You knew your place was here. You felt like you belonged in Edenia, and in Outworld as a whole. Your whole life so far had been spent to one day take the crown and become ruler of the kingdom. Until your travels to Earthrealm, you had never wanted anything else. But now, you found yourself drifting into your mind during important meetings, doodling on scrap paper the alien types of plants you’d encountered there, and missing the feeling of seeing your reflection in the lenses of a certain pair of sunglasses.

Your state worsened. You were chastised for being so distracted all the time and your parents, worried, even referred you to one of the doctors to see if anything was wrong with you. Of course, any unwellness you felt could be easily explained…just not to the Edenians around you. 

Desperate for a cure, you made up your mind one night. Packing only a few things (you planned to return, anyways…eventually…), you snuck out in the middle of the night to one of the sacred grounds in the kingdom. This one, carved out in a cave, was home to a portal. It led to Earthrealm. You heard your father talking about the possibility of sealing it off in the future, citing that “nothing good comes from that wretched place!” You didn’t entirely agree.

After a nauseating travel across realms, trying to navigate a confusing city and an even more confusing transportation system, you wound up at the most gaudy mansion you had ever seen. You looked down at the little slip of paper in your hand–across it was scrawled Johnny’s signature, number, and address. It was something he’d given you right before you parted. You had promised to burn it the second you had time to. You had kept it in your vanity drawer ever since, though you hadn’t ever expected to use it. 

Muffled, strange music met your ears as you stood on the doorstep. Beside the door was a gold plaque that read “Johnny’s Cage.” Well, this was certainly the right place. You raised your hand to knock on the heavy wooden doors, but suddenly there was some kind of barrier. What would you even say to him? You really hadn’t thought that far ahead. You only knew you wanted to see him again. Your arm slowly lowered to your side. Maybe this was a mistake. You were better off forgetting all of this, forgetting him. But…this time, you lifted your knuckles to the door. They rapped politely. You had come this far already. May as well see it through.

The door cracked open and the strange music grew louder. Tinny drums and a horn that sounded like it was underwater filled your ears along with the anxiety welling up in your throat. And, unceremoniously, there was Johnny dressed in nothing but a silk robe and a pair of brightly colored swim trunks. The second he laid eyes on you, his air of curiosity and confusion turned to one of bemused smugness.

“Oh, tell me I’m dreaming,” he chuckled as the opened the door wide. You could see the rest of his home behind him, marble walls and floors and expensive-looking art on the walls and a massive pool right in the center of his living room. 

“No,” you replied, feeling more like you were the one in the dream. “I’m real.”

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, your Highness?” Johnny twirled his hand and gave a little bow. He had never really taken your royal status seriously, only ever acknowledging it in moments of tomfoolery like this. Somehow, at this moment at least, you found it endearing.

“Well…” You took a breath as you tried to decide on your angle. “You gave me your address.”

“I did!” He grinned, and then paused. “You kept it?”

“I did,” you echoed, showing him the slip of paper still clutched in your hand. “I figured it would be rude not to use it.”

“Good thing you had all those Edenian manners lessons.” He laughed at his own joke and turned with an unintentional flourish of his robe. “C’mon in. You want something to drink?”

Not wanting to embarrass yourself with guessing what little foodstuffs Outworld and Earthrealm had in common, you shook your head. “No. Thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” Johnny made a beeline for a bar set-up he had near the pool and started to mix himself something. Getting a better look at the inside of the mansion as you followed him inside, you could see that several of the art hangings were paintings of Johnny himself in various styles. In one, he was posing with a tiger. Vases and statues and weapons lined the corners of the rooms, almost as if the home was afraid to have a single square foot that wasn’t glimmering with something or other. Despite the organized clutter and the loud music that seemed to come from everywhere, you couldn’t help but notice that there only seemed to be only one inhabitant of the place.

“Do you live here alone?” you called out as you examined a series of trophies on a shelf. 

“No! I mean, well, there’s the maids and stuff. And that little guy.” You followed his pointed finger to a little disc-shaped robot trekking across the spotless floors. 

“Oh.” With a polite smile, you approached and crouched beside it. It seemed to pay you no mind, but you continued anyway. “Hello, there.” 

You could hear Johnny stifle a laugh and a snort, but when you looked over at him he was faced away from you, still working on his drink. “He, uh, he doesn’t exactly talk back. But if he could I bet he’d be charmed.”

“Ah.” Trying to force a blush away from your cheeks, you stood up and watched the little thing scoot away, unbothered. 

“You like it here?” Johnny asked, coming up behind you. In a strangely shaped glass was a drink so colorful it looked like it might hurt to swallow, but it seemed to refresh him nonetheless. 

“It’s, uh…it’s very ‘you,’” you smiled a little, motioning to the tiger painting. Johnny laughed. 

“Oh, that’s one of my favorites! Took forever to get that tiger to sit still. Fuckin’ sweet, though.” You turned to get a better look at it again, and when you looked back Johnny had inched closer to you. “So, tell me: what are you really doing here?”

“What do you mean?” you asked. That familiar irritation you often felt with him was slowly making its way back. You didn’t really mind.

“It’s just that I don’t exactly believe that you hopped dimensions on a whim.” A beat as he sipped. “Like, I know I’m irresistible, but come on.”

“Well, that’s sort of what happened,” you laughed softly. “I don’t have a big reason. I just…wanted to see you again.”

“Ohhh.” Johnny flashed you a grin. “Got the Cagester on the brain, huh? A pretty serious infection, I know.”

“You have a very…uh, memorable presence,” you decided on.

“Well, I can’t promise a cure, but I’m here to provide in any way your little royal ass wants,” he murmured, leaning in close to you. That blush you thought you’d taken care of came back with a vengeance. 

“What?” was all you could muster.

“Anywhere you want,” he was grinning. “Could give you a tour of the bedroom. The couch over there is pretty comfy. Or, we could get a little freaky and head into the pool if you’re into that…”

“Johnny,” you laughed nervously. “No, I…I didn’t come here for that.”

“Oh. Really?” He frowned into his drink and then looked up at you again, incredulous. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I came because I missed you. Not your body, just you.” 

“Oh,” he said again. He only seemed more confused. “Huh. That’s…that’s a new one.”

“Is that so hard to believe?” You cocked your head.

“It’s just that, uh, y’know. People don’t usually come over just to hang out or talk or whatever. They don’t usually…stay afterwards.”

“Would you like that?” you asked, guiding his cheek so he was looking at you.

“Yeah,” he breathed with a nod. His eyes, usually hidden by whatever shades he had chosen for that day, suddenly looked so full of longing. For the first time, you understood just how lonely this man was. 

“Okay,” was all you said. You pulled him into a hug. His robe was soft, and so was his skin. At first, Johnny remained frozen. He didn’t seem to know how to react to such a genuine gesture. But he hugged you back, letting out a sigh that rivaled one of Atlas.

“I really, really needed this,” he muttered, chuckling tiredly.

“I can tell.”

“Eugh. Guess I don’t deserve all those Oscar’s, then.”

You didn’t know what in the world he was talking about, but before you could ask, he was already talking again. 

“Y’know, I…I thought you hated me.” 

“No,” you shook your head. “Not at all.”

“At all?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Well…” You huffed, smiling in spite of yourself. “You can be irritating. And loud. And arrogant.”

“But…?” He pursed his lips, waiting for you to go on.

“I don’t know,” was all you could think to say. 

“Not exactly the confidence-booster I was looking for.”

“You have enough confidence,” you teased. 

“It is one of my strong suits.” He grinned and downed a little more of his drink. “I guess it should be telling enough that you trekked all the way out here just to see me. You must like something about me.”

“I like plenty about you. It’s just hard to name.” You tilted your head as you watched him. He looked so pretty in the dim lighting of his lavish, yet warm home. Then again, he usually did. 

“We’ve got plenty of time to rectify that,” he smirked, his voice dropping down to a sultry hum. “Unless you were planning on making this trip a short one. But…”

You followed his gaze to your bag, still slung over your shoulder.

“I sort of assumed you’d let me stay.” You paused and corrected yourself. “That you’d want me to stay.”

“Forever?” He seemed a little too excited about the prospect, if a little caught off-guard.

“No,” you laughed at his likeness to a puppy. “Just for a little. I still have responsibilities, you know.”

“Right, right. The whole heir to the throne thing.” Johnny seemed utterly bored by the position. “That’s a shame. I know some of the guest rooms could use some love.”

“I just wanted to visit. See where this goes,” you said carefully, unsure exactly what ‘this’ even meant. Johnny, however, didn’t seem to care. He hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you a little closer. The look in his eyes that usually came off as cockiness now seemed to give way to a genuine enthrallment with you. It gave you flutters in your stomach. You didn’t hate the feeling.

“I’m down for that,” he murmured. A large hand caressed your cheek. “Y’know, now that I’m thinkin’ about it, my master bedroom is the loneliest one of all. And its owner wouldn’t mind a companion.”

“Someone to bed-warm?” you chuckled. Johnny’s eyebrows shot straight up.

“I thought you didn’t want to–I mean, listen I would love that, but I was just talking about, y’know, uh…sharing a bed tonight.” 

You frowned, searching his face for any sign of what the confusion was. “I was, too. You know what bed-warming is, right?”

“I know what a bed-warmer is!” Suddenly, realization came across his eyes in a wave. “Oh. Oh. Is this–this is some weird Edenian culture shock thing for me, isn’t it?”

“Maybe?” You shrugged as the thought crossed your mind. “For us, bed-warming is like…it’s hugging. Spending the night curled up to one another. Especially on cold nights. Y’know, because another body makes the bed warm.”

Johnny looked like he’d been slapped. “Yes! Yeah. Okay. That…that makes sense. Uh, that would be really nice. I’d like that.”

“What does bed-warming mean in Earthrealm?” you questioned as he turned to the bar again to clean up his glass. 

“Uh…” Johnny’s cheeks went pink. For once, he didn’t seem to want to delve into what you assumed had to be some sort of innuendo. “Y’know what? Forget it. You look tired. You came a long way, I bet. Let’s just go up to bed. I’ll show you my room! It’s really cool in there, I’ve got this statue that…”

As he started up the stairs, rambling half-nervously and half-excitedly, you couldn’t stop a smile from creeping onto your face. For the first time that night, you felt completely secure in your decision to escape from home for a bit.

[good--merits-accumulated]

do you take requests🧍‍♀️

LMAO I don't know if I would write full versions of these, but I can do some short snippets of each!

I. writer! Todd and vampire! Neil neighbours

Nicolas bared his teeth – and they were not just flashing white as Andrea had seen, but long and pointed, and curved like the canines of wolves. And they were no longer white, but slick and dark with blood. Of course. What a fool he had been. Nicolas moved closer and put one hand on Andrea’s throat, one cold relentless hand, so that they could both feel his pulse jumping between them. Behind him, pinned to the metal wall, Clara’s stake lay clenched in his hand. 

“No, no, no,” said Neil cheerily across the space between their balconies, “you’ve forgotten that Andrea wears that necklace.”

If it had been six months ago, Todd would have – and had – turned red, snatched his laptop off the flimsy table, and scuttled away into the sanctity of his own apartment, imposing a state of self-exile from the balcony for several more weeks. Fortunately it was not. He twisted around in the chair, shot a half-despairing glance at Neil’s grinning face, and asked, “Have you never heard of privacy once in your entire life?”

“I have many times heard of l’intimité,” said Neil, grinning wider, “and of einkalíf, and even yǐnsī. Privacy, however. That’s a new one. Pri-var-see. Is that how you say it?” 

He was incorrigible. Todd had discovered quite early on in their friendship that Neil had had some huge measure of life experiences which allowed him to come up with a rebuttal to every situation, and even earlier on that allowing him to run his mouth in French was a dangerous thing to do to himself. He was best humoured. “You’re in a boasting mood,” he said, pulling the laptop towards him. “I’ll bite. What’s wrong with his necklace?” 

“You’re the one writing with your screen brightness all the way up on an open balcony,” said Neil mildly, but acquiesced when Todd shot him a threatening look. “Sorry. Lips sewn. Anyway – whatever gory hand-to-hand combat scene you’re working on there can’t go if he’s got the necklace on.”

“Well, why not?”

“It’s a fish,” said Neil, with some measure of surprise. 

Todd fixed him with a look. “Neil, Andrea is a marine biologist.”

“A marine biologist wearing an ancient symbol of Christ around his neck,” said Neil. “Nicolas – he’s the vampire, yes? – he wouldn’t be very partial to that, I imagine.”

“A fish?” said Todd, surprised. “Well, it's not exactly a cross.”

“Hurts just as bad,” said Neil, making a face. “I mean, I would reckon. You know the ichthys actually predates the cross by two centuries? Bit more power to it, wouldn’t there be?”

He squinted and turned around fully. In the faint light spilling from his flat – the light from his flat was always faint – Neil looked loose-limbed and relaxed, draped over his balcony with his customary easy smile on his face, and his perpetual air of someone who knew more than he was letting on. Infuriatingly, the air was alluring at the best of times. But there was no hint of a lie or a joke on his face. “How on earth do you know that?”

“I’ve got time,” said Neil, “I read.” Then, with a shrug affecting casualness, “Could come over to yours and explain it more to you, if you want.”

“Well,” said Todd, and then, “well.” It had been six months they had known each other. He supposed that was enough time. But it had not happened before. For a moment a terrible feeling of anxiety overwhelmed him – something prickled over the back of his head like a hood, and a cloud crossed the moon, so that for half a second all was plunged into darkness. He shuddered. But then the clouds cleared and a ray of light struck Neil’s face, and illuminated it for him; he looked a little bit sheepish and a little bit pale, with nervousness perhaps. His hands twisted, one after the other, on the railing of the balcony. He was looking determinedly down. “I suppose it’d be helpful,” he said, and Neil looked up with a smile, suddenly blinding. 

“Really?” he said. 

“Well, don’t make me recant the offer.”

“Of course. Invite me in?”

He jerked a thumb in the direction of the door, standing up. “No,” said Neil, in a voice that was soft but carried nevertheless, and filled with laughter. “I’d like to hear you say it.” He was full of odd little idiosyncrasies like that, and despite himself, they were all endearing.

“You – are – ridiculous,” he said, punctuating each word with a movement; standing up, shutting the laptop, tucking the chair in behind him. “Are you recording that, or something? Come on over to the door. Of course you can come in.” He left Neil’s smile and the laptop behind him and slipped back into his flat, to stack the cushions back onto the sofa and check his hair in the mirror. 

It did not occur to him until much later the point that should have been obvious from the start – that their balconies were much too far apart to see well, and that his screen brightness, despite Neil’s insistence, had not been turned up all that much at all. But by that point, he could no longer quite bring himself to care.

II. vampires! Todd and Neil forced to plan museum heists

Languages tended to blend into one another these days; they evolved so much over these many hundreds of years that dialects, once sisters, became distant cousins, and then ceased being on speaking terms altogether. It was awfully difficult to keep up, at least without looking like a fool or a grandfather. Despite that, some languages had, throughout the years, impressed themselves onto certain parts of Todd’s moods. Corsican when he was feeling playful, Old Norse when he had just woken up or was particularly vulnerable – English for almost everything else, except in those rare cases where he felt something unimaginably distressing had happened, or that some unforeseen calamity was tearing at the bounds of his reality, demanding to be given voice and a few more vowels. In those cases it was invariably French.

“Merde,” he said, staring in dismay at the display case, “oh, merde.” 

“Fill de puta,” agreed Neil gloomily. 

Staring back at him was five sheets of stained paper, covered densely from margin to margin in a scribbling hand he knew very well, seeing as it was attached to his wrist. They had been arranged with the utmost care on a transparent support, and although he had not read the contents of the label next to it, he could, very clearly, see its proud, bolded title: The Met Museum presents – “His sweet mouth”: Love Letters Through Time.

“Fill de puta,” Neil repeated. This time with a touch more horror. 

“That must have been one of your letters,” said Todd faintly. 

“The first time I used the phrase,” he rejoined, “le Roi Soleil was already dead.” He gestured at the line before them that read 15th century, exact date unknown. “That was you. Remember?” 

He remembered, unfortunately, in excruciating detail. That had been a particularly thrilling night – a young man, one of Borso’s hanger-ons – a moonlit chase through the Castello Estense – him and Neil had been younger then, and had spilled more blood than was strictly necessary in the process. But it had been wonderfully romantic, and shortly afterwards, when Neil had gone off to Venice to do something with alum and Todd had remained in Ferrara, he had sat at his desk and remembered the moment; their hands and mouths meeting in that dim corridor of the Castello, the soft chimes of their laughter, the taste of the courtier’s sweet blood lingering still on his tongue. Enamoured, and in a mood much more befitting to a youth, he had written the letter and sent it off with a kiss. 

It had been well received at the time; Neil had come back from Ferrara early and they had gone off for a third honeymoon in Milan, and stayed until the whole business with Galeazzo Maria had forced a quick escape. When asked where the letter had gone Neil had only assured him that he had kept it, with the kind of dashing prince’s bow he had favoured at the time. Looking at him now, both of them were remembering it. 

He looked a little closer, just making out a particular line of Italian which had not been fit for public company in 1469 and was certainly not more so now, under hundreds of thousands of visitors’ eyes. “You said – ”

“I may,” said Neil, a little shamefacedly, “have lost it.” He rubbed at the back of his neck and added ruefully, “1844.”

He put a hand over his eyes. “The Oregon Trail?”

“It was quite windy.”

He pointed accusingly at the letter, and Neil winced. “Not windy enough to destroy the damn thing.”

“Well, it could be worse.”

“Worse!” One or two people looked over; he pulled Neil with him into the corner of the room, away from the damning glass display cases. “Neil, not only has our property been stolen – ”

“Lost.”

“Yes, because you lost it. Not only that, but now thousands of people are looking at it under this – damn – ” Lost for words, he pointed at the sign above them as they had walked into this particular exhibition room, reading, quite damningly, Eroticism and Sensuality, 1300-1550. He took one deep breath and compressed all the forcefulness and anger into a single, low, “Merde!”

“It was quite a good letter,” Neil offered. “I was flattered. Particularly the passage about my – ”

“There’s nothing for it,” Todd decided, firmly cutting him off. “Does Charlie still have all of his equipment from the ‘60s?”

“Good God,” said Neil smilingly. The good thing about having known each other for over a thousand years was that, at this point, they could have been the same person; he had not surprised Neil in quite some time with his actions. “You don’t mean to break into the Met?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Neil blinked at him slowly, and pulled him a little closer, so that they were pressed close enough together to be mistaken for young lovers. A middle-aged woman pushing a stroller shot them a smile as she walked by, and Todd smiled back, close-lipped. “I certainly haven’t been arrested in quite some time,” Neil mused.

“And you can’t be hung for it any more,” Todd pointed out, putting his head on his shoulder. “The stakes are exceedingly low. Neil, I really do want that letter back.”

When he looked up at him again he was smiling; the wide flashing smile which exposed all his teeth and the fangs jutting sharp onto his bottom lip. The light in his eyes had long since died but in the reflected glow of the spotlights they looked almost alive again, and dancing with mischief. “Well, if you wish it,” he said. “Then I can’t say no.” 

Notes:

I: languages Neil uses in succession: French, then Icelandic, then Chinese. Take all the stuff about the icthys with large grains of salt - I did like 3 seconds of research for this and it was all on Wikipedia! Also I do think Andrea wears specifically the icthys, and not just any old fish.

II: Todd is of course using French, but Neil uses Catalan. Maybe I've been reading too much Aubrey-Maturin. The Borso mentioned is Borso d'Este - highly recommend reading more about him if you like Quattrocento things. Similarly Galeazzo Maria is of course the real Sforza who was assassinated in 1476!

[frosty-tian]

ok, now that bean quickshadow is done. where is squish bean blurrsy, salvage and hightide. please. I need em.

Not pictured:

Cody and Charlie in the Peter Griffin Death pose, the others are screaming and the kitchen’s on fire.

Blurr is an almost uncontrollable bean of wild energy (as if on a constant sugar rush). Salvage and Hightide are way calmer in return, Salvage collects little nick-knacks he finds and tries to make something crude out of them, while Hightide is usually really quiet until he’s placed in the bath tub (or any larger body of water).

[tresjoline]

Don't know if you've ever come across my story on tumblr but I'm someone who has seen Magda and Pernille twice in my life and fainted both times! I really admire the fact that you can take such beautiful pictures of them and not get dizzy

❤️❤️❤️

[outer-stars]

I fucking love and adore your artstyle, they all look so squishable(compliment) and it makes me just go:

Sjehhsajsbajbajzbsj *grab* *squish*

ahsjdjdj- and if I exploded??????? what then?????????

[dailysmilingkokichiouma]

:D

[demiesop]

Hello! I loved your Sorn even before I started drawing again. You are actually one of the people who inspired me to start again!

Lux never lived among Drow - And never in the Underdark until post-game…. But I think she would still hug Sorn for what he had to go through Q_Q Just because she's a drow woman and wants to say sorry.

Hello!!! I apologize for the late response, and thank you so much for this message!!!!

This is so sweet!!!! AAAhh Thank you so much!!!! I'm very honored!!!!!!!!😭🙏🙇 I will forever treasure this!!!! And I'm happy to hear you're starting again!!!! I hope you keep finding inspiration and have fun🫂

Lux darling ;; that's very kind of her!!! I think Sorn would be a little confused about why Lux would want to say sorry to him and would hesitate to hug back at first... (I hope you don't mind I sketched a reply?? and I hope I didn't butcher her...? @@;;)

[topnotchquark]

I am new to motogp, but what the fuck is the deal with Uccio and the rosquez drama in 2015.

My brother in Christ are u stupid? Why don't you tell Vale to put all his stamina and mental games on f.ing Lorenze, the actual threat to the 10th? You could scheme the divorce in 2016 or sth you stupid Ipad stand!

Oh my god! An opportunity to analyse Uccio! Persona non grata and public enemy number 1 on motogpblr (btw, are there any Uccio shooters on Tumblr? My inbox is a safe space, I wanna hear your side of the story).

There is no way for me to know for a fact why Uccio ended up being the first domino to fall that led to Sepang 2015 but I did look around to see if I could find a bit more about the relationship between Vale and Uccio.

These two go all the way back to the crib, literally. Uccio mentioned in an interview that Tavullia is a small town and they were only a few months apart in age so they ended up at the only day care in the town together.

Uccio has been called a bumbling fool and a freeloader and what not (look at this post openly roasting him for being Vale's Lackey) and despite my dislike of him I won't do the same (for once lol). Vale shot to stardom at a young age doing the death sport that required him to travel extensively. What better way to feel grounded than to have your childhood friend near you at all times (the fact that Vale didn't leave Tavullia for flashier places like Monaco or wtv has been reiterated in so much writing about him, and Uccio has said the same). There is definitely an element of familiarity and comfort that both Vale and Uccio seek from each other. Uccio mentioned that they would come back from a weekend of racing, put down their suitcases and immediately get on the phone with each other, which, teenage bestie-ism is such a force lol it could power cities if harnessed.

Anyway, back to racing. The consensus is that Vale didn't have the best rivals in Biaggi and Gibernau, they were inconsistent and susceptible to mind games. Vale enjoyed the initial years of his career as an untouchable, peerless talent. And then..... the winds changed direction :)

Vale was 36 in 2015, most pro athletes are considered done and dusted at that age. He had been putting his body through years of premier class motorcycle racing. Add to that how bad the Ducati years had been and just, so much life had happened. I don't want to talk about Sic's death, but that too and while racing at that. Vale had already started working on the academy (Franky was signed in 2013 afaik). Vale had moved on from the glittering, ebullient, darling of every circuit personality. Imo choosing to be a mentor and doing that well is among the most impressive things Vale has done but when you mentally cross the rubicon to accept your youth is decidedly over, it changes things. For starters, it's a real question of whether you've already chosen to hang your boots. What I'm trying to say is, a lot was at stake in 2015 for Vale. The kind of, calm and bemused, quietly malicious as and when required public persona that Vale has honed over the years needs the solid bedrock of consistent winning to seem graceful. It wasn't just a championship at this point, it was a question of pride and cementing your legacy and being the architect of how the world perceives you when the odds have been stacked against you for a while.

Back to Uccio. He simply didn't trust or like Marc. Or anyone who was on the racetrack at the same time as Vale (he didn't even spare sweet nothings for Viñales). I have no concrete theory for said distrust short of just saying Uccio is a bit of a slimy character (this interview of Uccio when he's doing his best impersonation of henchman from an old Hollywood western). Uccio wasn't even happy when Marc made the infamous visit to the ranch in winter of 2014. Guess the whole "Marc is helping Jorge win" thing was Uccio's attempt at reminding Vale of his ruthless nature that he thought Vale was finding hard to tap into (Vale did say Marc was an updated model of him). A friend once said that a lot of time public facing figures aren't as cruel or rancid in their interpretation of the world as much as the followers of said people. So Uccio started talking shit and given the circumstances of 2015, it made an impact.

Ultimately the odds were stacked high and Vale made a mistake. I suppose Vale knows a thing or two about how pressure can make someone succumb to errors :)

So that's my take on the whole deal. Uccio, croney par excellence, used Vale's desperate title bid in 2015 to purge some of his misplaced blood lust. He made Marc his target because according to him the young ones on the grid were nothing but a nuisance. Vale fucked up and let it drive his paranoia and made a big fucking mistake.

[isawken]

This might seem a little out of left field, but do you watch the Philly Mummer's parade? I think mummery is pretty heavily tied to foolery.

i had never even heard of this before but holy moly am i glad i do now

also i looked up what a mummer actually is out of curiousity and here's a quick lil history lesson for those of you who like that kind of stuff: there was apparently there's a precedent in medieval times (i so far have only found specificity mostly referring to england) for something called a "mummers play" which, as far as i can tell from some quick research, looks like was just some loose group of actors who would go like house to house on holidays and pretend fight each other in character for the entertainment of the viewers. and then a doctor character would revive the loser and they'd move on to the next house, rinse repeat. the characters would often be well known established characters like robin hood or king george. not a lot of talking, mostly just fun gesticulations. i did also find reference of german and austrian mummers plays (mummenschanz) featuring, not fighting, but instead just going into people's houses and playing dice, which i'm not clear if that was supposed to be a funny ha ha type thing or just like. general shenaniganry. idk if there's much fake fighting in these parades but i hope there is, i'd love to see all those jokers fake fighting to the death. all in all ur right anon, it is tied to foolery thanks to the heavy use of pantomime!

[alectoperdita]

How frequently do you think Jou (be it canon or an AU of your choosing) would have nightmares?

I would be surprised if canon Jou didn't have a slew of nightmares after Battle City. The poor boy nearly died multiple times in a span of about two days so if that doesn't traumatize someone, I don't know what will. Sometimes he dreams about burning alive, about Ra's flames searing his flesh and disintegrating into dust.

But what haunts him most, what keeps him up the rest of the night if he jolts awake are the nightmares about drowning. Ra almost killing him was a flash in the pan, and he doesn't really remember the details of it. But he remembers nearly drowning in Domino Pier. He had made his peace with sacrificing himself for Yugi's safety, or so he told himself. But the realities of drowning is both slow and painful. He could feel himself dying, gradually starved of oxygen.

His nightmares tend to draw out that moment, delaying when his consciousness had started to wane. It gets darker and colder around him as he forever plunges into the depths. Maybe he remembers he's supposed to surprise this moment, but the rescue, whether it's Shizuka in the anime or the key in the manga, never comes.

He is alone. Forgotten. Buried in his watery grave.

On nights where his dreams follow that script, he doesn't sleep much. He flips on the lights and turns up the TV or radio as loud as he's willing to risk without pissing off the neighbors or his dad.

The frequency decreases as times goes on. But it never goes away. It's part of the familiar repertoire of nightmares that he cycles through during periods of stress: electrocution, burning alive, drowning but never dying.

@killhadrian has a lovely kaijou WIP fic on AO3, Depth Perception, if you want to read something where Joey has nightmares (specifically of drowning). And my fic, Paper Tigers, contains a dream sequence scene of Jounouchi drowning.

[candydos]

Thanks to Them

1080p HD: https://mega.nz/file/mhcmALRD#Jrv_ZupulD7_4e_rqU_fkaP46b3vH4BFbILvTvET5O0

(if that doesn’t work, try https://drive.google.com/file/d/1kRMQsB3X4GgaxPQpAJpYr7r_8eszPY4_/view?usp=sharing)