#the excerpt is a random part of it to choose

[uefb]

For the Sake of the Scamander Name (link)

Summary: The Scamanders have worked hard for the respect they have and are desperate to keep up appearances. Newt's father, however, is perfectly done with it; and he draws a firm line for the sake of his son.

In which Newt is nine and already a bit of a troublemaker, his father has a harsh conversation with the family, and Dad and Newt have as close to a heart-to-heart as two Scamanders are likely to get.

Excerpt

“Was that Uncle Hes leaving?” Newt finally asked, peering up at him and shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Mmhm. Boring adult business.”

“I don’t think your - I don’t think your business is always boring. Was it his boring adult business? About Theseus? Or sports?”

“Ah, no, Newt. And I thought you liked quidditch.”

“Oh! I do, but when Uncle Hes talks about it—”

Helios held up his hand as a signal for him to be polite. Newt immediately shut his mouth.

“No, not that kind of business, Mud. And – it wasn’t poorly charmed lawnmowers and possessed coffee grinders this time either, I’m afraid.”

Newt said nothing, only continued to stare at him in the late afternoon sun.

“Look, love, it is absolutely nothing for you to worry yourself with.”

Helios dropped to his knees in front of him and started gently tapping the splotches of mud from his cheeks, removing the grass stains from his knees, disentangling the cowl from his binoculars and shaking out leaves before slipping it all back over his head.

“Hands,” Helios directed, and Newt held them out as he murmured an aguamenti, which had Newt shrieking in surprise, unintentionally heating up his body enough that the cool water evaporated from his fingers in a warm mist.

“Sorry, so sorry,” his son was muttering quietly, eyes suddenly fixed on the buttons of his father’s waistcoat instead of his face. “I didn’t mean—”

“Newt,” Helios interrupted firmly, and he gripped his son’s shoulders like a vice until he looked up. “Newt, you are allowed to do magic. It’s quite important, actually, that you let yourself. It’s the— Listen, Mud, when the Underage Magic Officers come out here, it is usually because you’ve done something quite peculiar, ‘off the charts’, they would say. Not because you trimmed a stick to build a castle—”

Newt’s eyes flicked up and he blushed.

“—or heated your own hands when your idiot father thoughtlessly sprayed you with water in northern England while it was 7 degrees in April.”

Newt shook the remaining droplets from his hands, and nodded.

“Has your mother not explained this to you? Theseus even, or the healers?”

“I - I don’t know. I think. Probably. But I’m not always—”

He fell silent and shut his mouth again, eyes drifting off to the trees as he very obviously tried not to incriminate himself.

“But you’re not always listening…” Helios finished for him with a sigh. x

[kindestegg]

Putting together a timeline for the Collector's backstory

Hi!! For the Future just happened!! It was insane!! Anyway as a Collector superfan, fantasy worldbuilding fanatic, and also Collector's actual chosen dad (real, not fake, he revealed this to me in a dream /j), I decided to try and interpret the crumbs we got both from direct and indirect clues in the new episode, as well as tying back to earlier episodes.

I want to start first with the paintings on the Archive halls, which seem to tell a story. I chose to interpret them, from the first shot we see them in, as chronological from left to right, as that usually tends to be how one would read things (at least in the west, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about manga and all that, but I don't think the crew was following manga rules).

Here is a picture of the hallway I am using for reference. This specific shot seems to only have unique paintings aligning (there is an animation quirk that happens later on that makes it not so but I will get to this later), which is why I have elected to extract the timeline from this. Another reason is that, as we will see, the first three pictures definitely seem to fit in a neat chronological order, which would make it hard to doubt the placement of these paintings as being chronological here.

The first seems to depict our Collector, as the smaller one of his species, and three, bigger collectors. For convenience's sake I am in fact choosing to interpret these paintings as being things that happened to him and part of his memories. It makes sense: there is an emphasis on this smaller figure several times throughout the paintings and I cannot think why Collector would put random pictures of some other child collector's life, as well as we have to imagine the crew wanted to tell a story with these, otherwise they would be as random as the sun and moon paintings on the other side of the hall.

So it seems in this first picture, the bigger collectors, perhaps his family, are observing a planet, maybe even the planet the world of the Demon Realm is on.

Here is where I take a detour to add excerpts from the book Collector had King read to him (I should eventually make an analysis post on why Collector wanted this read to him, but all in its due time):

As the book states, collectors, by nature, observe things and then collect them by keeping them in stasis.

Going back to the painting, all indicates that this would show these particular collectors, likely the family of our younger Collector, were interested in the planet the Boiling Isles is on, and this painting depicts the first stage of their plan, observing this planet.

As a quick aside, I would like to say it is likely collectors do know what families are, and they may even form familial bonds and hierarchies. One such nod to this is of course Collector calling Odalia "Mamadalia", but also, this:

It is barely visible, but in a few quick shots you can see the next page of the book. Not only does it seem to use the words "interdimensional" and "dimension(s)", likely referring to the nature of collectors themselves or their residence, but it also uses the word "Family".

So, to recap, three adult collectors, likely our Collector's family, had their sights set on the planet the Boiling Isles is on.

And one of their first contacts was the Titan Trappers.

We now know that despite the resemblance to titans at first glance, titan trappers only wear their skulls and pelts to look like them, making the hunt easier, as well as to, I imagine, indicate pride in their spoils. The indication we have this is not a titan is primarily the spear utilized here, the fact the fur does not match the rest of the body, and the yellow glowing eyes.

I will discuss this further down through showing evidence with the other paintings, but there seems to be a recurring theme in the paintings that depicts the trappers and collectors as always having yellow eyes, whereas the titans are depicted with red eyes.

As Lilith explains further on, books found in the archive detail that a titan's power can actually cancel out the collectors' powers.

She also goes on to say that this why Collector's predecessors (her words not mine) wiped out all the titans.

If such is the case, then that explains why they chose to ally themselves with the trappers. It's likely they needed an intermediator, otherwise they would have not been able to fight the titans full on. In exchange, they likely shared whatever arcane knowledge they could to help in the fights, powering up the trappers.

This would line up perfectly with the trappers' worship of their Grand Huntsman, who as we all know, derives from the Collector and his entire species in aesthetic and looks.

As for why they did not want to risk peaceful contact with the titans besides the reason of their powers being able to be canceled out by titans, there is also the crossed out passage in the book:

Though our Collector declares he tried to "fix" it, we can still clearly see what was originally written, implying that any creature who attempts to stop their work shall meet a deadly end, and maybe even the entire planet will have all of its life wiped out.

So it is likely the titans were not fond of the collectors attempting to collect things in their planet, and fought back, causing the collectors to learn firsthand of their weakness to a titan's power, and to then ally themselves with the trappers.

Which, leads again, to the second painting, depicting two collectors in front of a trapper. The taller one, which I assume is part of our Collector's family, is trying on a skull.

By their side, I will assume is our Collector, due to the smaller stature, and something curious about the body language placed here for him seems to indicate he is examining the skull before putting it on. This could indicate he had an interest on the titans from early on. This will be important later.

As a quick addendum before we move on, I have come to conclude it's highly likely collectors have the ability to change size. In the first painting, the three adults are larger than the entire planet, with our Collector being only a bit smaller than the planet itself. However, in this second painting, the adult is not even as tall as the trapper depicted here, which, if we assume trappers are common witches and demons simply adorned with pelts and skulls just like the modern ones, were not as giant. Similarly, Collector is also way smaller, hence the theory that they change size.

We have seen our Collector possibly changing sizes in canon as well, both in the Owl Beast dream as their hooded figure form seemed massive, and then when they have just broken out of their prison. It's possible collectors scale down their massive size to fit whatever planet they are on.

Next is the third painting, which depicts a familiar scene...

Indeed, this seems to be an almost one to one recreation of the mural we see in Echoes of the Past inside King's castle. We even receive some extra content to it: We now know the titan depicted here had wing like structures on their arms, as well as was protecting an egg, and was accompanied by a smaller, likely juvenile titan.

Notice also how they both have red eyes, but the trapper has yellow eyes.

This all but confirms that the mural is depicting a trapper smithing a titan (whether it is our Titan we do not know for sure), and that the collectors had a hand in this.

Moving on, we have this painting:

Again, going out of the assumption the smaller figure is our Collector, he seems to be approached by four other adult collectors. These collectors however, are slightly different than three he was earlier with: first of all there are four of them, they have no split faces, and their hats are adorned with celestial bodies on their tips. For the sake of convenience I will refer to these as "The Elders", as their difference from our Collector's supposed family, as well as possible authority denoted by their hats, makes me think they are older and more powerful than our Collector's family.

Anyway, The Elders appear to be satisfied with our Collector, one even extending an open palm to them in a friendly gesture. I confess my interpretation of this is more speculative than the other paintings, simply because of the vagueness of it and how it does not seem to tie well into any other pictures or current lore we have.

But my current understanding is that, since one of The Elders is making such a gesture at Collector, they are maybe giving something to them, offering an opportunity. Their authority would certainly denote power above even Collector and his family, so they would likely be able to call the shots in their hierarchy.

Due to this, and considering the next paintings, I have elected to interpret this as The Elders entrusting Collector full control of watching over and collecting things from the planet he and his family had their eyes on. If this happens chronologically after the deal with the trappers as well, this could indicate the Elders have deemed it safe for our Collector to take over.

It also would explain why he calls himself The Collector, he's the designated collector for that planet, the caretaker of this planet and the one meant to observe and collect from it.

Which makes this next painting all the more interesting.

Collector, is surrounded by what seems to be four baby titans. They have their arms up, reaching for him, running to him. Playing. His expression also indicates happiness, eyes wide, hands on his chin, a little smile.

Recall for a moment that in the painting depicting the first contact with the trappers, our Collector had stopped to examine the titan skull. He was interested in them, he wanted to play.

This would align with Collector's "fixing" of the book, going to the lengths of desecrating what is likely an ancient book that dictates/documents the entire culture of his species to ensure his message of playing and friendship is more important.

If we take this painting and the book addition in conjunction, we can come to the conclusion Collector, once left alone, went out of his way to befriend and play with whatever titan babies were left out there. He was likely happy with this, as nothing about this picture indicates a struggle. And once again, these are definitely titan babies due to their eyes being red.

One may be concerned considering the fact the stars here could indicate they are in space, but there are a few counter arguments to this: Collector does not seem to imagine someone could suffocate in space as he suggests people on the moon could just hold their breaths, so this contradicts the idea he would have had experience with this.

The baby titans also seem to have playful body language rather than showing any anguish. And furthermore, when discussing the painting with my boyfriend he pointed out the blue waves could be an abstraction of the shoreline, indicating they were playing on the beach. In short, it is just the simplest explanation this depicts a peaceful scene rather than one with the babies suffocating, as it would not align with the rest of the story here.

There is also the matter of Collector straight up denouncing "the others", which we can only assume refers to the other collectors. It's no wonder he would feel that way, since they were the reason for his new friends' families being all but wiped out, and were less interested in playing with the creatures they observed and rather only preserving them.

Which only makes the present of the Isles and the state of titans and collectors all the more worrying, as well as concerns us with a last, pretty elusive painting...

This is what I meant by animation quirk: Getting a picture of this painting was so hard because it's the very last one in the timeline line up I showed you in that first screenshot, but when the camera zooms in on King and he runs up to get Hooty and we SHOULD get a proper look at it...

... It's pushed back again and the last two paintings get repeated. Which makes me think this is either an animation error, or they REALLY want to make it hard for us to get it.

BUT! After a bunch of rewatches and looking at some slowed down clips again, I was finally able to find the ONE place it repeated, on the scene where Belos!Raine is walking down the halls ominously.

And it is quite the revelation.

This depicts three adult collectors, likely our Collector's parents, staring down menacingly at a titan... perhaps THE Titan this time? It's worth noting this is not the same titan depicted in the painting with the trapper hunting down one that was protecting their egg, as that one had smaller wings and a skull that covered their entire jaw, whereas this one's skull only goes to the muzzle, just like King's does.

Something interesting is that this titan is accompanied either by other very weird looking titans, or these are other creatures that inhabited the Boiling Isles at the time and were also casualties in the collectors' path.

There is also fire surrounding this picture, which makes me think again of the "clear the earth, scorch the air" verse. It's also odd these collectors are approaching the titan(s) despite the fact titan magic could easily push them back, so it could be that they are betting it all on this and going on to cause massive destruction. But the titan seems to be holding up a hand as if gesturing for them to stop, or wait... they're not fighting back like with the trappers. Why?

Well, if this takes place after the painting with Collector playing the baby titans, it's possible these titans had become accustomed to our Collector and did not expect such an attack. It's likely they may have at first understood that this Collector was a child, one that was more interested in playing and befriending them rather than hurting anyone, and cautiously took them in.

Now, whether it was a misunderstanding with Collector's family thinking they were in danger or they were angered by their refusal to hurt titans... we know how the story ends. The titans were all wiped out, safe for King's egg, and Collector was sealed away by King's dad, likely one of the last things he'd ever do.

Overall I think our Collector's backstory is both horrifying and sad. Horrifying because of what his species is capable of, but also sad because despite his efforts to make peace with the titans, it couldn't save them and cost him his freedom. It's no wonder he was so happy to see a titan again, and latched onto King: this is like his second chance.

[katieaki]

My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated! Read it here for free on my Patreon and vote in the poll! There is a summary of the first part, here, the second part, here, and the third part, here. They have everything you need to know about Lou, her requited-but-complicated love, the religious assassin who just beat the tar out of her, the worst person she's ever met, and the ill-advised journey she is on! There is also now a discord where Pony Express readers from all across god's green internet can gather, here!

Read the update for free on my patreon & vote on what happens next! Excerpt below the cut.

“Holliday! Gal! Open your eyes, dumbshit! No she ain’t! The jig is up! You think she was sending you letters from out here? How? You seen a Pony Express in the last three weeks? You seen a living soul in the last three weeks? How did you think this was working? She was just walking the letters into town?”

“Lou–” Holliday tried to cut in, but Lou ignored her and kept talking. 

“Then why wouldn’t she have come seen you if she loves you so damn much? She was lying to you! She was lying to you! Them letters, all them pearls, they was just scavenged ones coming from Fountain Springs or Flea Trap or what have you and you were so desperate for somebody that might stoop to tolerate your wretched ass that you believed her! I know you ain’t stupid with all your fancy words and shit, but fuck me, you’re dumb! Dumb and so selfish you’re willing to let two random people— people who never did nothing but try to help you— die for nothing,” Lou said. 

Holliday looked back at her with her lips white from how hard she was pressing them together. Her hands were folded neatly, one over the other, held primly in front of her. Lou wanted to spit on the ground at her feet but her mouth was too dry. 

“What’s it matter if I die, anyway, right? I’m just some yokel. You seen that I have nobody. That I’m nothing to nobody. Nobody in Hereafter gives a rat’s ass if I make it back. You just needed some patsy you could use up to get you there. Some little pissant who was already sucking hind tit. Who cares what happens to her on the way back? And you’re right. It’s true. Nobody’ll miss me when I die out here in the wastes. But what you didn’t account for is that you’re dying out here with me because none of that was fucking real. We’re all out here dying because a couple of goddamn liars got carried away lying to one another.”

“Are you finished?” Holliday asked, infuriatingly calmly. She looked down her nose and through her eyelashes at Lou and Lou wasn’t sure if this was more of her weird, practiced frigidity, or if she really felt unshakably justified.

“It’s a shame you’re never gonna meet this gal, because you two really deserve each other,” Lou said. “Match made in heaven.”

[reality-detective]

* * * Las Vegas Shooting * * *

Part 3

On the Thursday night that followed, the White House press pool was unexpectedly called in to witness a “photo op” that was taking place with President Trump…and included various military officials & their spouses.

As cameras were rolling, President Trump said, “Maybe it’s the calm before the storm. Could be, the calm…the calm before the storm.”

As reporters shouted questions, he said,

“We have the world’s great military people in this room, I will tell you that. And uh, we’re gonna have a great evening.”

Then, when asked what he meant by “storm,” he ominously answered,

“You’ll find out.”

MEGANON, the anonymous 4chan poster that I referenced the other day posted this on 4Chan after Trump made his “Calm Before the Storm” warning...

Then 👇

It is interesting to point out that the very next day after Trump made his cryptic remark, a fire broke out at the Federal Reserve Bank Building.

Here is an excerpt from a 10/7/17 Zero Hedge article titled “Fire Breaks Out on the Roof of the NY Fed.”

“Dozens of firefighters are fighting a blaze which broke out on the top of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, NBC New York reports.

Contrary to recurring rumors that the fire was created from excess money creation, the FDNY said that a generator on the roof of the building caused the fire in a chimney, although the severity of the damage to the building is not known.”

☝️ Was it possible that Trump’s warning “You’ll find out” was taken seriously enough…that it lead to an emergency bonfire of incriminating documents right on the roof of the Federal bank building?

Guess what happened after that???

On October 26th, 2017

The JFK FILES WERE RELEASED by PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP!!!

Funny that he releases the files on October 26th!! That’s the birthdate of Hillary Rodham Clinton!!

Reversing the curse!!

By the way, October 28th is a date with a lot of significance.

By choosing this date,

God/Trump/The Alliance/White Hats are reversing the curses that were placed on our society by ((these)) people.

((THESE)) people are the Occult/Witches/Warlocks/Satanists/Luciferians/Illuminati/Jesuits/Crypto Jews/Khazarian Mafia/Banksters/Deep State/Cabal/Black Hats/Rothschilds/Rockefellers/Clintons/Bushes etc. etc.etc!!

Löök up famous people born on October 28th you'll get a better picture of what I'm saying. 🤔

FUN FACT: Remember, Q started posting on October 28, 2017.

Facebook was originally launched as FaceMash on... you guessed it... October 28, 2003, (before changing its name to Facebook on February 4, 2004).

THERE ARE NO COINCIDENCES!!!

The PHILADELPHIA EXPERIMENT began during the summer of 1943.

On OCTOBER 28th, 1943,

The Navy Destroyer—USS Eldridge—was placed in an electromagnetic field and disappeared…not only from the screens…but also from our reality.

During this second experiment, the ship disappeared from the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard.

Simultaneously, sailors stationed 375 miles south at the Norfolk Naval Base in Norfolk, Virginia, reported the ship’s appearance for several minutes before it vanished.

Many believe that the USS Eldridge traveled through time.

Time traveling is a real thing and so is "Project Lööking Glass"

I hope this sheds some light on the Las Vegas Shooting Event, it was no random solo shooter acting out. It was all a staged event.

All links connected 👇

[jedi-enthusiast]

My Random Bullshit MasterPost

Note: Not to be confused with the "My Star Wars Fic MasterPost" or "My Other Fic MasterPost," which are actual links to my fics, or any other MasterPost---this MasterPost is just about all of my random bullshit, hence the title

Shitposting:

Part One - Codywan

Part Two - Cody in a Kama

Part Three - Oh Yeah, I had Cancer

Part Four - Cody's Trust Issues

Part Five - Obi-Wan's Slut™️ Hair

Part Six - Grim About to Rock Palpatine's Shit

Part Seven - My Idiots <3

Part Eight - My Idiots Pt. 2 <3

Part Nine - Me: Screaming, Crying, Throwing Up

Part Ten - My OCs Love Their General

Part Eleven - My Angry Rant About 'The Devil Below'

Part Twelve - The Dilemma of Wanting to Ramble

Part Thirteen - Cody Bitching About Anakin

Part Fourteen - Baby Obi-Wan Being the Anti-Christ

Part Fifteen - Dooku is Old as Shit

Part Sixteen - Dooku Talking Like Yoda

Part Seventeen - Damn I Want to Fuck the Jedi Council

Part Eighteen - Ponds is Suffering

Part Nineteen - My Giant Ass List of OCs

Part Twenty - I Never Shut the Fuck Up

Part Twenty One - Stanakins (derogatory)

Part Twenty Two - MACE WINDU MY BELOVED Pt. 1

Part Twenty Three - MACE WINDU MY BELOVED Pt. 2

Part Twenty Four - @frostbitebakery I STILL LOVE YOU FOR THIS

Part Twenty Five - 'we're burned for better' shitpost

Part Twenty Six - Killing my Darlings

Part Twenty Seven - The Force v. Obi-Wan

Part Twenty Eight - Laughing at my Own Tags

Part Twenty Nine - My Idiots <3 Pt. 3

Part Thirty - GET HIS ASS

Part Thirty One - Clones Are Hot

Part Thirty Two - I love the Jedi <3

Part Thirty Three - CAN YOU NOT FUCKING READ???

Part Thirty Four - Dumbass Anti-Jedi Morons

Part Thirty Five - Second Thoughts (oops)

Part Thirty Six - Girl Help

Part Thirty Seven - Miscommunication Pt. 1

Part Thirty Eight - Mandos (derogatory)

Part Thirty Nine - MY BABY <333

Part Forty - 🔫

Part Forty One - Hyperfixations Baybeeeeee

Part Forty Two - Temple Guard my Beloved <3

Part Forty Three - MACE WINDU MY BELOVED Pt. 3

Part Forty Four - MACE WINDU MY BELOVED Pt. 4

Part Forty Five - Jedi Culture Thoughts

Part Forty Six - Jedi Culture Meme

Part Forty Seven - BCC Meme

Part Forty Eight - My Brain Hates Me

Part Forty Nine - Obi-Wan's Parents Biting the Curb

Part Fifty - Miscommunication Pt. 2

----------

Excerpts of The Great War:

Part One - Scrapped Part of BCC

Part Two - Codywan Feels

Part Three - Last Line Challenge Pt. 1

Part Four - Last Line Challenge Pt. 2

Part Five - A Snippet of Chapter 4 (BCC)

Part Six - A Snippet of Chapter 5 (BCC)

Part Seven - THIS LINE KILLS ME

Part Eight - Last Line Challenge Pt. 3

Part Nine - Depressing Bullshit™️ (MITPTT)

Part Ten - Last Line Challenge Pt. 4

Part Eleven - Last Line Challenge Pt. 5

Part Twelve - Last Line Challenge Pt. 6

Part Thirteen - WIP Chain

Part Fourteen - WIP Wednesday

Part Fifteen - Last Line Challenge Pt. 7

Part Sixteen - Last Line Challenge Pt. 8

Part Seventeen - Last Line Challenge Pt. 9

Part Eighteen - Last Line Challenge Pt. 10

Part Nineteen - Last Line Challenge Pt. 11

Part Twenty - Future Snippet Pt. 1

Part Twenty One - Future Snippet Pt. 2

Part Twenty Two - Last Line Challenge Pt. 12

Part Twenty Three - Last Line Challenge Pt. 13

Part Twenty Four - Future Snippet Pt. 3

Part Twenty Five - Future Snippet Pt. 4

Part Twenty Five - Future Snippet Pt. 5

Part Twenty Six - Future Snippet Pt. 5 (Expanded Info)

Part Twenty Seven - Gooey-Wan Snippet

Part Twenty Eight - Ahsoka Show Spite Fic

----------

Ask Games:

Part One - Fanfic Ask Game Pt. 1

Part Two - Fanfic Ask Game Pt. 2

Part Three - Another Fic Ask Game Pt. 1

Part Four - Another Fic Ask Game Pt. 2

Part Five - Choose Violence Ask Game Pt. 1

Part Six - Choose Violence Ask Game Pt. 2

Part Seven - Choose Violence Ask Game Pt. 3

Part Eleven - Choose Violence Ask Game Pt. 4

Part Twelve - Choose Violence Ask Game Pt. 5

Part Thirteen - Choose Violence Ask Game Pt. 6

Part Fourteen - Yet Another Fic Ask Game Pt. 1

Part Fifteen - A Completely Different Fic Ask Game Pt. 1

Part Sixteen - Another Choose Violence Ask Game Pt. 1

Part Seventeen - Another Choose Violence Ask Game Pt. 2

Part Eighteen - Another Choose Violence Ask Game Pt. 3

Part Nineteen - WIP Ask Game Pt. 1

Part Twenty - WIP Ask Game Pt. 2

----------

My Recommendations:

Part One - Shoulder the Sky

Part Two - My [Completed] Codywan Fic Masterlist

Part Three - My [Ongoing] Codywan Fic Masterlist

[chaotic-history]

Hi!

Bit of a random question, but I distinctly remember reading in the book about Émilie that V cheated on her first with Mme Denis. This would also be consistent with the second half on her Discourse on Happiness I think?

But then I've read in a Czech encyclopedia about the 1700s and in intro to Voltaire's texts that she was the one who ditched him first for Saint-Lambert (the first one even making a big deal out of how she supposedly 'broke his heart').

Are there any letters or other sources that may shed some light on this? I want to debunk any possible Émilie slander. Many thanks!

Hi!

So Mme Denis was definitely before Saint-Lambert. V's affair with Mme Denis started probably in 1745, and Émilie's affair with Saint-Lambert didn't start until 1748.

That said, Émilie also possibly had an earlier affair with Maupertuis in 1734, when he was tutoring her in mathematics. We don't know if the affair actually *happened,* but if it didn't, it certainly wasn't through any lack of trying on Émilie's part. Zinsser's Émilie bio admits the possibility of the affair, and says that some of Émilie's correspondence can be interpreted that way, especially when she kept trying to set up meetings with him in Paris, and that Émilie and Maupertuis both at least ..acknowledged the idea that an affair was a possibility; however ultimately she thinks it never went beyond that. Most other bios I've read take the stance that either the affair did happen, or that Émilie wanted it to happen but Maupertuis rebuffed her a bit (Émilie's letters, from the excerpts I've read, are often complaining about Maupertuis ignoring her letters and not responding often enough).

V was aware of the maybe-affair, and in 1735 wrote her this poem "concerning her affair with Maupertuis" where he's clearly concerned that she's choosing Maupertuis over him.

So a hundred new beauties

Will catch the attention of your passionate mind;

You renounce these sparks,

And the little follies of my writings,

For immortal lights;

And the sublime Maupertuis

Comes to eclipse my trifles.

I am neither angry, nor surprised;

A true spirit must be in love

With eternal truths.

But these truths, what are they?

What is their use and their price?

From the true scholar [Maupertuis] that I cherish

Firm and luminous reason will show the heavens described to you,

And a bold hand will reveal to you

The shadowy folds of nature:

But, without the secret of being happy,

What will he then have taught you?

--

The maybe-affair pretty much ended however when Émilie went to stay with V at Cirey. Idk whether Émilie and Maupertuis actually slept together or not, but I do think Émilie was at least pursuing that.

There's also then of course the possibility of V and Fritz in 1740...

[lennjamin-o7]

Who wants to know a writing rule I use for all my writing?

I mean, I'm gonna say it so take it or leave it.

"Don't use the same word twice in the same paragraph."

This, obviously, isn't a hard rule, but it is one that I lean heavily on when I edit. There are words that you are going to use multiple times no matter what. Articles, names, prepositions, etc. The basic words are fine to be used multiple times. But try not to use the same adjectives, adverbs, and verbs within the same paragraph. Also, if you can avoid using the same noun, you would also be good.

Let me write a quick example.

Tommy sprinted away, furious at Wilbur for not taking his side. Wilbur deserved his fury. If Wilbur wasn't going to take his side, he deserved to be left behind. Left in the dust as Tommy sprinted further and further away.

So, this is just a random excerpt, but there are a lot of repeated words. When I read it back, it feels clunky to me because of it. So I am going to start changing things.

First, I see I used "Fury" twice in this example. True, technically, Fury and Furious are different words, but they are just the same word in a different part of speech. Furious is an adj, Fury a noun. I'm gonna change one of them.

Tommy sprinted away, furious at Wilbur for not taking his side. Wilbur deserved his rage. If Wilbur wasn't going to take his side, he deserved to be left behind. Left in the dust as Tommy sprinted further and further away.

Okay, the next thing I noticed is the phrase "take his side". I use that phrase twice here. And the repetition doesn't add anything. I might repeat that phrase in other contexts to signify that the character is hung up on it. But not here. So, I will change that phrase to something different that expresses the same intent.

Tommy sprinted away, furious at Wilbur for not taking his side. Wilbur deserved his rage. If Wilbur wasn't going to stand by him, he deserved to be left behind. Left in the dust as Tommy sprinted further and further away.

Looks better! The next thing I noticed was I used "Deserved" twice. Honestly, I don't HATE it, but it does mean that I have two sentences back to back where the Independent Clause has the same verb. Which just doesn't sound as good to me, personally. So I am going to change that.

Tommy sprinted away, furious at Wilbur for not taking his side. Wilbur had earned his rage. If Wilbur wasn't going to stand by him, he deserved to be left behind. Left in the dust as Tommy sprinted further and further away.

Next, I noticed the word Sprinted. I used it twice. And Sprint is a good word, very evocative. But having it twice just seems to make the description boring, like it lacks texture. So, even though Sprint is a superior word, I think it would be BETTER to replace it with a less evocative "Ran". True, there are other synonyms I could use. But sometimes, there is nothing WRONG with using a simpler word.

Tommy sprinted away, furious at Wilbur for not taking his side. Wilbur had earned his rage. If Wilbur wasn't going to stand by him, he deserved to be left behind. Left in the dust as Tommy ran further and further away.

And that is a much better paragraph in my mind! I might also choose to find a different wording than using "away" so many times. But when I was doing this little demonstration, the only alternative I could think of completely changed the sentence and that's wasn't what I was trying express. I just wanted to point out how I pick my words.

Anyways, lets have a side by side of them!

Starting Paragraph

Tommy sprinted away, furious at Wilbur for not taking his side. Wilbur deserved his fury. If Wilbur wasn't going to take his side, he deserved to be left behind. Left in the dust as Tommy sprinted further and further away.

And then final result!

Tommy sprinted away, furious at Wilbur for not taking his side. Wilbur had earned his rage. If Wilbur wasn't going to stand by him, he deserved to be left behind. Left in the dust as Tommy ran further and further away.

And that's how I edit my diction! Honestly, again, not a hard rule. I bend it a ton! Sometimes, repeating a word can show that a character is fixated on that idea. Or repeating a word can show the youth of a character because they don't KNOW as many words. But a lot of the time, this is something I look for in my own writing.

Obviously, don't go overboard. If there really is only one good way to describe something, you're gonna have to use the same word. You don't need to regurgitate a thesaurus onto your writing. But, if you can give your paragraphs some variation, it just feels like it breathes a bit better.

Anyways, that's my two cents. I just wanted to throw this out there to procrastinate writing kekw. I hope someone finds it helpful 💚

[blackknight-100]

The Corruption of mildly protective Thranduil in five parts + an extra

This fic is inspired by this amazing artwork by @chicotfp

This fic was supposed to be 1k so I could post it here, but somehow inflated to 3k+ Therefore: here is a random excerpt and the Ao3 link. The timeline is a bit skewed for plot purposes.

One evening that winter, he receives a visitor. He sits by the fire, nursing a glass of wine. Legolas – so sweet and so dear – slumbers on his lap. He strokes the tousled blond head and watches the flames shift. All at once the fire has a face, and a soft hissing voice. “Vigorousss S-s-s-spring,” it says. Thranduil wraps a hasty hand around his son, subtly feels for the knife in his boot. He has lived in Morgoth’s shadow, fought at Mordor’s gates. This fell Maia he will know even in sleep, yet he asks anyway, “Who is it that speaks?” In the flames, he sees a fair, smiling face. “Do you not know?” “Sauron,” he says with thrilling boldness. The flames laugh. “Mairon isss my name,” it tells him, and dissolves. Mairon has a sweet voice, and sweeter words. He flickers in the flames every night, and Thranduil, taken by curiosity, lingers.

Fandoms: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien  

Teen And Up Audiences

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Gen

Complete Work

Tags

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Bard the Bowman/Thranduil

only if you squint

Thranduil (Tolkien)

Gandalf | Mithrandir

Sauron | Mairon

The One Ring

Elrond Peredhel

Galadriel | Artanis

Celeborn (Tolkien)

Bard the Bowman

Bilbo Baggins

Original Orc Character(s)

Dark Thranduil

Mirkwood

Spiders

Mind Manipulation

Orcs

Blatant misuse of Robert Frost's quote

Not Beta Read

Dol Guldur

[fabdante]

omgomgomg it's too hard to choose but

The One Were Kat Gets To Yell At Vergil (DmC)

The Mai/Jet dream captivated me (Atla/Mai and Jet)

these two immediately caught my attention!!

Also, +bonus wildcard because meta WIPs is genius why didn't I think of that!!!

Essay no one asked for on spiderverse and grief mostly because I'm obsessed with the black out kingpin causes

(you certainly know much more about this topic than i do but I'm curious regardless lmao)

hello my beloved friend!! thank you for sending this ask with so many wips this delights me dfghjk i will go through them one by one!! (link to the WIP game here!)

I'll try to keep the excerpts short since there's three of them even if I'm very excited about all three of these dfghjk

The One Where Kat Gets To Yell At Vergil (DmC)

Ok so this one is a rework of an old wip. It's not an edited version it's just like a whole new version because I liked the fic and wanted to do it again sdfghj. I love post game Verat, the emotions and drama are so high with those two.

I wanted to share a bit of the part that I started this fic for but I cut out the lines I specifically wrote it for mostly because I was trying to find a nice end point of the excerpt fghjk so here you go:

“I spent the last five years worried all I ever was to you was useful,” she says, “and then you stand there at the end of the world and you call me useful.” He’s taking up too much space to look at her like he does, small and sorry. Because he knows what he’s done is unforgivable. But he doesn’t waver, Vergil’s gaze always on her and unmoving. And Kat…Kat laughs. Bitter and miserable, fixated on one corner of the room before looking at him. Wild. Angry. Hurt. It almost makes him flinch, the weight of the accusations in her gaze. “I almost died for you,” she says. “I was ready to let myself get shot for your plan because I thought it was for the best. That’s what we all thought! People are dead for you that I cared about! That I knew and cared about and they’re just dead now.” He swallows. “But I didn’t die, I get to live and know that all of them fucking died so you could try and become god king. Because of course Vergil DiAngelo wants to be king. Freeing mankind isn’t enough for him!”

The Mai/Jet dream captivated me (ATLA/Mai and Jet)

So I had this dream like last year unprompted about Jet and Mai. I don't even remember the context anymore dfghjkl I can't recall if it was within a Zutara dream I was having or another dream I was having or if I'd dreamed up the whole plot? No idea, can't remember.

What I do know is it caused me to write this whole fan fic around the concept because I am in love with them this is a slept on dynamic I think sadfghjk here's an excerpt from the beginning which gives some backstory:

Mai think’s she handles the three random strange Earth Kingdom kids who bust through her bedroom door in ill-fitting work uniforms pretty well. She asks, expression unchanging, “and who are you supposed to be?” And the tallest, proudest, with a smug grin on his face and down turned brows takes a step closer, then two as he reveals a knife. Mai immediately considers four separate ways she can disarm him, and does not move her eyes from him. He says to her, “we’re the Freedom Fighters, and we’re here to kidnap you.” “Oh thank Agni.” It’s…clearly not the response they expected.

Essay no one asked for on spiderverse and grief mostly because i'm obsessed with the black out kingpin causes

I'm OBSESSED with Kingpins design from Spiderverse like it's just SO SMART ok like its BRILLIANT like I love grief narratives we know that we know that on fabdante.tumblr.com we love a grief narrative and my favorite thing about Spiderverse is this focus on the Spiderman story as a grief narrative which it always has been but sometimes that grief narrative can get a bit lost where as in Spiderverse it's sort of the center of it the center of it is grief and the pain of that grief and what we do with that grief.

This essay was one I was going to kind of ignore for a while, ngl, but then I saw someone read Miguels whole thing from the second movie as like capitalist? Which I mean who am I to argue how one reads the story, if that's how you read the story then I fully support ones right to read Spiderverse as a narrative on capitalism like I mean that's a fair read.

However it refilled my interest in analyzing Spiderverse as a grief narrative asdfghj because look I love a grief narrative I love a grief narrative and Spiderverse is such a good grief narrative. Here's an excerpt (also apologies it's the least polished thing here because I mostly started it to get out these thoughts dfghjk):

Every time Spiderverse Kingpin enters the frame we are consumed by him. Now, this is typical of his character design across media. But in Spiderverse, this is amplified by the choice to dress him in black. He not only takes up large portions of the screen or even all of it at times, you cannot see past him. He’s even lost in the black, a small head and hands and peaks of the white of his shirt just surrounded by the blackness of his suit. He’s dressed for a funeral. Formal, black clothes, black tie, clean and pressed. And this is what’s so brilliant about it because every time we see Kingpin, we are not only seeing him but we are confronted by his grief. We are forced to see it. And he exists within it, drowns within it, is consumed by it.

I really need to get back to this essay I feel very strongly about Kingpins design in Spiderverse and Spiderverse as a grief narrative dfghjkl

Thank you again my friend I hope you enjoy these!!

[desertfangs]

This is an excerpt from my first draft of a Valentine's fic that ended up not really going anywhere, but I think this part is sort of fun so I figured I'd share it here.

Daniel/Armand - Devil's minion years - about 600 words

-----

Daniel moved through the aisles of the drug store quickly. He’d landed in Philadelphia in the late afternoon after his flight was delayed. He’d checked into a hotel and passed out for an hour, though he’d only meant to close his eyes for a moment. Now it was dark. 

He grabbed a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste from the shelf (his had not made it into his suitcase) and tossed them into his handbasket. He scratched at the stubble on his chin and tried to remember if there was anything else he needed. 

Food. Several drinks. A week somewhere his vampire stalker couldn’t find him so he could get some restful sleep. 

None of those things were on sale at the drug store. 

He grabbed a new razor and a bottle of aftershave and then found himself in the shampoo aisle. They didn’t have his usual brand, which flummoxed him momentarily and he struggled to choose from the available options. Finally, he chose one at random and tossed it into the basket. 

He turned to go to the register and his heart leapt into his throat. Armand was standing at the end of aisle, watching him with that impassive expression of his. His auburn hair was cropped short, and he was bundled up like everyone else in layers and large coat so only his pale white face was exposed. Only Daniel wore a thin jacket. He’d flown in from the Caribbean. That was yet another thing he’d have to get. He’d had a warm winter coat at some point but it had been left behind at a train station or bus terminal somewhere along the line. 

Armand didn’t move. He just stared at him. So Daniel ignored him and went the other direction to the check out counter. The clerk rang up his purchases and added a box of cigarettes, while Daniel nervously scanned the store for Armand, who had vanished. 

Good. Maybe this was one of those times Armand’s only goal had been to spike Daniel’s blood pressure and he’d disappear until the next city. 

Daniel carried his plastic bag out of the store and practically bumped into Armand, who was waiting for him by the door. Armand immediately snatched the bag from his hands and rifled through it. He dug out the tube of toothpaste and said, “Winter Mint. Does mint grow in winter?” 

Daniel grabbed the bag back, leaving Armand holding the toothpaste. “It’s just a flavor.”

Armand frowned at the box. “What makes it taste of winter?” 

“It’s just what they call it. It’s marketing. Mint is too plain now, so they add descriptors to make it sound more appealing. It’s all the same,” Daniel said. He started to walk, trusting Armand would follow. Sure enough, the vampire fell into step beside him.

Armand shook the box of toothpaste and then opened the cardboard, the tube sliding out into his hands. He squeezed it a few times with the cap still on.

“Don’t do that! You’re going to squirt toothpaste all over the place!”  Daniel grabbed it back and shoved the tube into his plastic bag. 

Armand looked surprised and somewhat abashed, which made Daniel feel bad for snapping at him. Strange how he could transform so quickly from a preternatural monster into a chastised young man. 

“I guess vampires don’t brush their teeth, huh?” he asked, glancing over at Armand.

“There’s no need.” 

“Must be nice,” Daniel muttered. They continued down the sidewalk. Daniel’s hotel was several blocks away. “Have you ever tried it? Brushing your teeth, I mean? What would happen if you swallowed toothpaste?” 

Armand frowned. Clearly he didn’t know. 

-----

Obviously Armand is going to find out what happens, possibly by stealing the toothbrush Daniel just bought to do so.

[armentas]

WIP Questionnaire

Thanks so much to @orphanheirs for tagging me; this looks so fun and I loved your answers. I'll be responding for my main WIP, Haven!

What's the first part of your WIP that you created?

Easily my characters. Heather has existed since I was 12 years old, and Beau and Erin have more or less existed since I was 6! I would just daydream about them getting into random situations to pass the time, really. I'd tried putting them in badly written middle school fantasy stories before realizing that coming of age was the most natural thing for them.

If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

Oh, I have a whole playlist for songs I'd want to be used! I honestly haven't decided on an intro song, but I definitely know the theme song and end credits song. I'd consider the theme to be Last Chance by CHPTRS, both the vibe and the lyrics are just too perfect. "This could be my last chance" is pretty much the whole thing behind Haven, AND the line of "hold me in the grip of your arms" becoming more and more desperate because of how much Heather misses her brother and wants to cherish this miracle of being with him again... I would be lying if I said that hadn't made me cry a few times. Though the lyrics are more depressing than I'd want for the end credits, for that category, I would still easily choose i have no sense of what home is by ativansocial. It feels like a childhood hug on a warm, dark summer night where things aren't okay, but they will be, which is exactly how I'd want the end to feel.

What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

Oh, can I answer for multiples WIPs? Because Heather is definitely one, but I could easily go on about Celio and Charity too lol. For Heather, the top thing is she's just a really raw person who's easy to relate to, to the point it may even be uncomfortable for the reader sometimes. I think a good example of me trying to utilize this would be an excerpt I wrote where she's reliving the time she was 13ish, Beau was still in the hospital for his car accident, and no one was letting her go see him yet. There's a paragraph or two describing how she's jealous of him for his accident, thinking how she wishes she'd end up in the hospital so people would get her flowers, too. This is the kind of thing where we know it's not great to feel that way, but most of us have probably experienced something similar. We want our own traumas to be louder so they're "heard", and we may especially lack that understanding of other people's issues as children. And that's a big part of Heather's journey: gaining understanding. She doesn't always think or do or say good things, but you get what place she's coming from.

I've decided since that was a big paragraph, I won't get into my other characters, but anyone's free to lmk and I'll drop some info!

What other pieces of media do you think your fanbase would share?

My first thought is Omori since that was a big inspiration when this project was still new. This is also an obscure movie, but if anyone's watched the movie As You Are, I think they'd like both Haven and my other story, The Day You Left. Honestly, I don't consume enough media to say in too much detail. If you like your heart being ripped out, you'll probably like Haven.

What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

The plotting!! I always know character arcs first and then weave a plot around where I want people heading, but I've been out of inspo lately, I guess? Or just lazy about brainstorming. That's most likely. I know the most major story beat of Beau's accident but that's practically it, though there's probably potential behind giving Heather some extra new childhood experiences, and being decisive on stuff (aka trauma) for Erin. Not too much is going on with Erin at this moment.

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Unfortunately not! For some reason, despite being a mega animal lover irl, I've rarely been good at giving my characters pets. If they aren't directly relevant to plot or theme, I usually end up forgetting about them over and over until I decide to just scrap them. It wouldn't work for Heather and Beau anyways; I know for sure Heather's probably tried to bring an animal home, and Beau would've told her it's too much responsibility.

How do your characters travel/get around?

Heather does have her learner's permit, but she doesn't get that much use out of it before she's sent to her child self's body and can't reach the pedals lol. One of her big hobbies is rollerskating, so she mainly relies on that to get around during the story's events. Meanwhile, for Beau, he avoids driving himself anywhere since his accident, so he usually hitches a ride from Erin or someone else.

What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

That's a good question, actually. Kind of just anything and everything, but like I said for the other question, extra plot beats and fleshing out Erin are my main priorities. I know who Erin is, but I only have vague ideas of why she is the way she is. I also get really indecisive with how I want her to be influencing the story exactly (sometimes she's a Heather antagonist, sometimes she's a helper, sometimes she's both), so nailing down core stuff for her would also automatically nail down her role and make that easier.

What aspects (tropes, maybe?) do you think will draw your audience in?

Coming of age is usually pretty grounded in reality and maintains a fairly casual/upbeat vibe even when some not-so-great events happen (at least in my experience with it), so I think people will be curious about the more intense subject matter, how I personally answer difficult questions, and the surreal twist on the genre. I use the word surreal a lot because I wouldn't personally call Heather suddenly waking up in the past "fantasy"'? The narrative isn't about explaining how it works in the first place, it's just supposed to be...weird lol. I also always lean a lot on complex character development, so I'm hoping that, from the blurb, people will think "there should be interesting characters in a story like this" and read it for that.

What are your hopes for your WIP?

My biggest goal is to make it a fully operational interactive fiction game! The reader would be playing as Heather, putting both her and Beau's fates in their hands for that extra stress. The game could even include some art, too, but I'd have to see what feels right once I actually got started.

I could probably write more on that last paragraph but my sleep meds are kicking in lol! Tagging: @themboty @sidhewrites @lavender-laney @nrivanwrites and everyone that's interested!

[salemssimblr]

tagged by @machinegrl <3! thank you so much for the tag!

Share a random line of text from your current WIP or a line or two of dialogue from one of your characters. Do not give any explanation or context, and see what your followers think. Then, tag a few friends to keep the randomness going!

im tagging: @morrigan-sims, @simlishpiadina @simsonnet, @v4mpirec4t, @cryptidswitch, @buttertrait. @druidberries, @angelgnomesims and anyone else who wants to do this! (& if I tagged you and you don't want to that's okay!)

This is such a cool tag omg!

I'm still working on the actual writing for my sims story, so instead I'll give yall some excerpts from RPG topics featuring characters of mine from some of my renders (:

I could NOT choose just one line so have actual excerpts. They're a bit long so I tucked them under the cut!

Instead she focused on his admission, on how warm his hands felt and the way her skin tingled beneath his touch. Ariss didn’t struggle against him, didn’t utter a single protest as he slung one thigh over his shoulder. Then the other. There was no jolt of panic, no spike of fear.  Only euphoria to rival any drug, and the briefest, haziest glimpse of [redacted] between her parted knees, dappled in light through stained glass, his raven hair ringed in a spiked obsidian halo, his shoulders crowned in wings as dark as night. Then a rapturous sigh as her head tipped back, dangling off the altar into the mouth of oblivion with reckless abandon this time. What did she have to fear? Nothing here, nothing now, not in this ritual, the only one she’d ever need. Not while in the hands of the only god she’d ever recognize. And in the safety of his sanctum, Ariss sang for him. Sighs and moans spilled from parted lips like hymns. Trembling fingers raked and tugged through dark hair, stopping only when he paused to speak, his words punctuated by whining whimpers and furrowed brows as she struggled to hear what he was saying, to give it the proper weight, but it was impossible when each word sent a rush of hot breath against slick skin.

Excerpt from Vignettes, 2023 ~ Ariss

The final sin was murder. That of wife against husband. A severing of a holy bond. A stake shoved through a black-beating heart. A pact between light and dark.  Omniaudient ears heard the screams beneath the mountain, even from the depths of [redacted]’s sprawling, golden palace. Like a bride to the altar, her steps were measured, calm. Bare feet padded over shining marble, billowing silk trailing behind like tears. Blue-tipped wings dipped in mourning. Gold ichor dripped from raised, celestial blue eyes, falling from her cheeks, dripping down her robes. Into the open sky she stared, looking for a sign. Any sign. Before she took it all.  But there was nothing above but wisps of clouds. She was above. She was divine.  She must punish the weak.  Slender hands raised, palms pressing together as if to pray. But Calista did not pray. Mortals prayed to her. A deep inhale signaled the end. Bony shoulders lifted, slender fingers curving into claws as her hands parted. Between them a rift formed, birthed from all that was unholy in this world. Birthed from sin. It cracked the marble beneath her feet, it tore through the fabric of space and time, it ate away the very last protective ward in place.  With nothing left to suspend it, the majestic paradise the angeli called [redacted] fell.  As it dropped, Calista rose. Mighty wingbeats took her higher, higher, high as god herself before she paused, suspended, starry eyes lowering to watch the collapse in real time, her painted blue lips curving into a smile at its undeniable beauty.

Excerpt from The Undone & the Divine, 2022 ~ Calista

The ties that bound Taevorian to the waking world had long since been severed. Year by year she’d forgotten their faces, their names, their roles in her privileged life. All but one. All but hers. The rest fell away until some memory prodded them back into her existence. Where once she would have trained alongside her mother to become the next Blood Queen, now she lorded over the first of the Nine, watching with curious eyes as fresh souls slipped through the Styx to their designated realms.  Most were unremarkable. Most she let float by. But there were a few Taevorian chose to keep. A few exceptions that caught her eye.  Time was a stranger here. Day, night, it all looked the same. A red wasteland, the river cutting through it like a wound. On its banks she now stood, her black-cloaked, red-lit figure towering high above its shore, her skeletal, many-eyed visage lifting in time to catch what she would have called a falling star in her previous life. Its descent was accompanied by a wailing scream she might have imagined, different from those of the souls who woke early in the river, disoriented and lost as they floated against the current, deeper and deeper into Venatham.  The star, no, it wasn’t a star. The soul crashing into the shallow end of the Styx sent shockwaves through [redacted], rattling the false fronts of the Whightwharf, shaking the closest watchtowers. The gatekeeper’s skeletal mouth clicked and clacked into a smirk, ignoring the fiend-sentinels’ surprised shouts as the soul sloshed upriver. It bumped against the staff of Taevorian’s scythe, dipped gently in the wound of the Styx to stop its descent.  Bending at her hollow waist to inspect it, her head clicked to one side, all ten eyes blinking in sequence. One of four skeletal, clawed hands reached down, gently scooping the soul from the river and laying it on the bank. This one was destined for [redacted], but no longer. There was a familiarity in his now-faint face, a mirror in his glazed red eyes she saw herself in. Or, a version of herself. The one the queen had murdered.  “Wake,” Taevorian commanded in a voice edged in a thousand screams, nudging the soul with the staff of her scythe, her skeletal beak blowing dry red air into its face. He would awaken dazed and disoriented, and she would wait. Wait until the confusion in his eyes morphed into something else. Perhaps fear. Perhaps acceptance. Regardless, once the former prince came to, Taevorian’s skeletal mouth would click into a wicked grin. “Hello, brother.”

Excerpt from Devil's Hands, 2022 ~ Taevorian

[katieaki]

My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated! Read it here for free on my Patreon and vote in the poll! There is a summary of the first part, here, and the second part, here. They have everything you need to know about Lou, her requited-but-complicated love, the religious assassin who just beat the tar out of her, the worst person she's ever met, and the ill-advised journey she is on! There is also now a discord where Pony Express readers from all across god's green internet can gather, here!

Ladies, ladies please, maybe we'll all just feel a little better after a good night's rest! No? We're gonna spitefully encourage one another to make blood offerings and accuse each other of looking at the other's boobs in the locker room? What are you, gay or something?? Okay. That's fine too.

Read it for free on my patreon! Excerpt below the cut.

(Holliday headshot (signed)) and two outfits from this update: Skylark (hungover) and Lou (cozy)

“Look here, they can’t kill you,” Lou said, ignoring Skylark’s obvious attempt to shift Lou’s focus to her instead. 

“It’s church shit, Lou,” Artie said through sobs, her back still turned. “Go to sleep.”

“Just for this?” Lou said, lifting her hurt arm up. “It’s just my arm. Just one arm on one random mail girl. I’m fine. They can’t fucking kill you just for beating me up.”

Artie laughed and turned to face her. Her nose and lips were puffy from crying. “They can do whatever they want, Lou! They’re our god!” Artie said. Lou had been on the other end of an attack by her, and while that had made her afraid for her life, Artie hadn’t seemed at all uncontrolled then. This was different. She was agitated, frantic. Instead of the pinpoint focus Lou was used to from her there was the sensation that she was rapidly losing her grip on a tightly bottled frenzy. She kicked over the other tin cup of pine-sol as she gestured emphatically. Skylark winced at the sound. “I swore my life to them, it’s theirs. And I hurt you. You weren’t even involved and I hurt you for no reason. Bad. It’s their duty to give me the punishment I deserve. If they don’t teach us, then no one will learn.”

“But they–”

“They what?” Artie asked, throwing her arms out in the night air. She was still crying, but her nostrils were flared in anger, too. “You’re gonna tell Johnny Knives what they can and can’t do to their disciples?”

Lou set her jaw. “If I have to,” she said. She didn’t know where this conviction had come from all of a sudden, but she felt it. This is why she always got herself into trouble. She was always, always ready to talk big and sometimes people made you back it up.

Artie laughed again, hard enough that she seemed to stop crying. “Alright,” she said. “Go for it, cowgirl. I’m sure it’ll go exactly as you’re expecting. You can borrow my knife to cut your palm.”

“I have my own knife,” Lou said. “Y’all didn’t invent knives.”

“Great. Go ahead then. Get on your knees. Pray. Let’s see you spill some of that beautiful, clean ath-a-lete’s blood,” Artie said. She beckoned Lou and the recent scab across her own palm was cast into sharp relief by the firelight.

“Liked it so much last time that you want another look, huh?” Lou said.

[artdecosupernova-writing]

WIP Intro

“Sometimes I sit here…and I contemplate. I could’ve been anything else.” “You’re not that forgiving. Not to yourself, not to anyone.” But Mike still grinned around his smoke. “…And you’d be the last person to deserve it, anyway.”

A Box of Sharpened Teeth

A small town in Oklahoma is disrupted by random disappearances seemingly going uninvestigated by a lazy sheriff.

Though Barber Blackburn is the last person anyone would suspect, he can’t explain his urges—his sparks—and the missing remorse factor goes further unchecked with each person brought into his basement. When he catches the attention of Michael McDowell, those sparks are stoked into flames by a handsome, charming, and unmistakably deadly stream of whispering in his ear…and it’s unclear what he wants in return.

WARNING: this WIP contains situations that some may find upsetting. use discretion when consuming ABoST content and blacklist the tag #ABoST if necessary.

EXCERPT:

Caked and drying blood flushed off Barber Blackburn’s knuckles in scalding water and spiraled down the shower drain. Loose dog teeth cut into the palm of his clenched fist, the angry points penetrating the fleshier parts of his hand. The pinch went unnoticed.

He’d found the teeth in a parking lot, on the tarmac outside of the grocery store. Early one morning, before the sun had fully risen, he spotted two canines and three molars scattered near his car tire. A consequence of the heavy rains the town of Single Shell, Oklahoma had to weather over the last few weeks, perhaps, or local fauna being reckless with their detritus.

Hovering nearby had been Michael McDowell, his neighbor from the adjacent cul-de-sac, taking furtive peeks at him from under the trunk door of his SUV as he loaded it with groceries. Mike’s dark eyes narrowed at Barber crouching to scoop up the teeth, and his hand paused on the door when he caught the glint of sunrise off the too-polished enamel piled into the space between Barber’s fingers and his wrist.

Barber caught his gaze under thick lashes, expecting a flinch or a show of disgust that he’d choose to pick up the teeth rather than inspect them from a distance. He’d known Mike at arm’s length for three years, though they weren’t close enough to establish whether or not picking up enigmatic dog teeth in his presence was a move Barber would later regret.

Mike couldn’t be read. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead, he deposited his canvas shopping bag and locked up the SUV without a word.

Barber pored over Mike’s utter lack of reaction well into stepping out of the bathroom. He thought about the text he got from him before his shower, forewent a towel and trailed water across the carpet of his bedroom, to the dresser, where he flicked open a small jewelry box he’d gotten from his mother as a child. It sat beside an unassuming book lying flat, a tome of poetry containing a favorite by Robert Burns.

He rolled the dog teeth against the cheap faux velvet lining of the jewelry box, rattling them like dice, and the lid dropped shut after him. He then lifted the cover of the book and peered inside, as some time ago he’d glued the pages together and hollowed them out above a particular stanza of the poem:

But, Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain; The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men Gang aft agley, An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain, For promis’d joy!

Barber ran the tips of his fingers through the other teeth within. All of the human canines filed into points after their extraction.

He exhaled through rounded lips and slid the book against the wall. He dressed and descended two flights of stairs into the basement, a gallon of bleach and an entire roll of paper towels in hand.

[darsynia]

I Know No Other Way Than This | Ch 3

(Bruce Banner/OFC, Tony Stark & Bruce Banner Friendship, post-Avengers 1 Soulmate AU multichapter)

image found on @multifandomfix

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Summary: Bruce tried to forget he had soulmate words entirely, but on the day of the Chitauri attack, he returned from his stint as the Hulk to find that his black words had turned silver. His soulmate must have watched him shift from the Other Guy into himself and said them while he was unconscious…

Length: 2,066

Tags: @starryeyes2000 @arrthurpendragon @ronearoundblindly @themaradaniels

Excerpt:

“Starting to worry that Cicely has a stalker,” Tony said to him, seventeen days after the attack on the city, four days since he’d brought her up the last time.

“I know she does,” Bruce muttered. He double clicked to start the simulation he’d taken the whole day to set up, and sat back in his chair.

“Two, then, since you don’t count. You really haven’t even opened the folder! I’m torn between being disappointed and jealous of your restraint.”

“Tony, forgive me if I don’t trust your motives.”

“The same guy has followed her to work for at least a week. Even when she had a day off and showed up to volunteer for one of the kid’s Make a Wish event. She left a whole 85 minutes later than normal.”

“What’s normal is not weaponizing surveillance video access against two people who clearly don’t want anything to do with each other!” Bruce sighed.

Chapter Three: Hitting the Third Rail

Back in high school, it was normal to worry about whether fate would choose soulmates for them who were ugly, stupid, or cruel. Bruce and his friends all looked forward to their Words appearing, as everyone did and just as everyone did, they’d overanalyzed the resulting words and phrases. Because of the social norm of men often being older than their partners, only about half of the guys had anything appear at 16.

Bruce’s Words had shown up when he was 30.

He wasn’t sure what day, exactly. Just that he’d seen them in the mirror after a shower in 1999, black and striking, completely unexpected. Knowing that his soulmate had just turned 16 was disconcerting-- a fourteen year age difference was a lot, but not world-ending. For the most part, because of their location, he’d been able to ignore the words. They seemed to just imply that at some point in his future, he’d meet a young woman who probably worked in healthcare, treating him for something that implied he had a vitamin deficiency.

Bruce was more grateful for those words and that age difference a few years later when he met Elizabeth Ross. At 32 years old, he was far more interested in her than some 18 year old woman just starting her life.

And Betty had no words at all.

It was a secret, one he’d gleaned after they’d become intimate. He hadn’t been looking, had wished there was a way to hide his. They were ‘tomorrow’ words, and Betty’s were, too. Her soulmate would someday turn 16 (her father used to tease her about this, but Bruce never did. She was hurt enough by the implications), or he’d died before he’d gotten the chance to. However it had happened, Bruce was happy to offer her his whole heart, because if anyone had deserved it, it was Betty, not some random, unnamed woman whose claim he didn’t even agree to.

After the accident, Bruce hadn’t had time to examine what the words ‘Something tells me you almost certainly have a vitamin deficiency’ meant to his new situation. He spent a not-insignificant amount of time strength training, hoping that bulking up might make some sort of difference in understanding the part of himself that didn’t have to. His new physique made it very hard to look down and see the black cursive marks on his skin. Bruce hadn’t found any more clarity in that lifestyle than in any of the others, though, and eventually stopped bothering.

It wasn’t difficult to ignore the words once Bruce had fully understood the Hulk was a permanent part of him. No way in hell would he involve another woman in his life, not when he couldn’t guarantee her safety. Bruce even spent a few years avoiding mirrors entirely after waking up with a flash of seeing himself as the Other Guy in the imperfect reflection of a shop window in India. That shame had thankfully faded, but the underlying cause was still full in effect.

Now, with a new life as Tony Stark’s colleague in this technologically advanced wonderland, Bruce was willing to overlook his friend’s quirks if it meant he could feel safe (to be around) and respected. By ten days past the battle, Stark had been good to his word, paying a fortune to construct a basement room with a special button Bruce could hit on the elevator that would lead directly to it. There were protocols throughout the tower, all meant to keep the other residents and workers safe.

The food was great. The research was engaging. He was able to sleep soundly at night. The only catch was that Tony Stark had glommed onto the soulmate thing and just would not let go.

Part of the problem was Stark’s own history with his soulmate, Pepper. Their long road to happiness was appropriately dramatic, for Stark family history as well as Tony’s own ostentatious personality. Bruce wished this weren’t the case so often during that first week of time spent working with Tony that if there had been a magical being that granted wishes, they would have granted Bruce’s just to get a moment’s peace.

The only reason Bruce was in any way sane was because he’d gained JARVIS’s trust. The AI butler seemed to appreciate how close Stark could come to actually bringing out the Other Guy when it came to Cicely Besnard, and had started blocking the invasive auto-play videos Stark liked to embed into Bruce’s technology. Before JARVIS had put his virtual foot down, Bruce had been treated to Cicely’s typical walk to her job (a children’s hospital), a time-lapse of her working at a community garden, and more footage of her helping people during the Chitauri attack.

She seemed like a genuinely nice person, skilled in her job, good with people, not to mention completely lovely. Exactly the sort of person one would hope to be your soulmate. The problem was, Bruce was exactly the wrong person to be hers. He was the nightmare scenario, too old for her, too many unfixable issues, and one great big skeleton in his mental closet.

Thanks to JARVIS’s crisis of conscience, Tony’s Cicely videos were sent straight to a folder on Bruce’s desktop (which were still synced to his phone, yes) unviewed. Once the AI intervened, Bruce had the choice of whether or not to watch. It took Tony a while to realize this. After the third offhand comment that Bruce didn’t quite know the context to, the billionaire figured out that Bruce had sidestepped his war of attrition.

“You bewitched my butler!” Tony wasn’t even upset. Instead, he seemed to be impressed.

“He told me he was designed with a sense of right and wrong. Considering that you struggle with the concept, I’m even more awed by your achievement,” Bruce told him.

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

The conversation moved on, and again, Bruce made the mistake of thinking that was the end of it.

“Starting to worry that Cicely has a stalker,” Tony said to him, seventeen days after the attack on the city, four days since he’d brought her up the last time.

“I know she does,” Bruce muttered. He double clicked to start the simulation he’d taken the whole day to set up, and sat back in his chair.

“Two, then, since you don’t count. You really haven’t even opened the folder! I’m torn between being disappointed and jealous of your restraint.”

“Tony, forgive me if I don’t trust your motives.”

“The same guy has followed her to work for at least a week. Even when she had a day off and showed up to volunteer for one of the kid’s Make a Wish event. She left a whole 85 minutes later than normal.”

“What’s normal is not weaponizing surveillance video access against two people who clearly don’t want anything to do with each other!” Bruce sighed. “Have you ever spent any amount of time watching a city street before? People have schedules. It’s far more likely that the guy happened to have a delayed schedule the same day she did. You get to know the faces of people who take the subway at the same time as you do. Same with walking. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“You’re saying you think this is a regular people thing I’m too Billionaire to understand?”

“Yeah, Tony, I am.”

“What if I had JARVIS run some--”

“Tony,” Bruce gritted out, feeling the familiar flames of fury licking out of their containment in his mind.

Stark put his hands up, backed away, and told the AI to turn up the music in his adjoining lab. The sound could be heard through the wall, but it wasn’t too annoying. At the connecting door, though, his friend stopped.

“Captain Optimism mentioned something the other day in his weekly emails-- I should send them along to you. They’re earnest as fuck, it’s almost embarrassing. Anyway, he suggested maybe we should do some training fights in your containment room. With Hulk. I mention it now because I sense that if I bring this subject up again, we might just call everyone in impromptu. How much do you think you’d hate that?”

Bruce chuckled. “Tony, your ability to turn every situation somehow to your advantage makes me understand a lot more about how your family business is so successful. If that’s hereditary? So much suddenly makes sense.”

“I bet it’s galling that your method of chastising your colleagues ends up just going right over my head, Brawl Bunyan.”

Stark’s nicknames were a thing that Bruce found amusing when they weren’t related to him, and irritating but tolerable when they were-- but that one really cracked him up. He had to set his glasses on the desk and rub his eyes not to let Tony see the tears of laughter.

“Yeah, I’m done here, that can’t be topped,” Tony said. Bruce wholeheartedly agreed.

Bruce woke up that night in a cold sweat. His nightmare was directly attributable to Tony’s concerns about his soulmate. In it, Bruce was unable to transform into Hulk to protect Cicely from an aggressor, and just before the man killed her, he taunted Bruce. ‘What good are your objections now?’

He didn’t put much stock in dreams usually, but this one was pretty clear. The best way to prevent a recurrence was also clear: Bruce should go through the videos he was avoiding. Seeing for himself whether Tony’s concern was warranted would put paid to the whole thing one way or another.

Because if Tony was right, Bruce had every intention of making sure his soulmate was safe, even if she never knew about it. He owed her that much.

It was two in the morning, but Bruce got up, pulling on a dressing gown over his t-shirt and sleep shorts instead of getting dressed.

“JARVIS?” he said, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yes, Dr. Banner?”

“Is it unethical of you to prevent your boss from finding out I opened this folder at two in the morning? Given that being taunted about it might set off some emotional distress on my part?”

“Are you trying to bewitch me, Doctor?”

“You’re more than a butler, JARVIS. And I think you know I have a zero bewitchment policy that’s active right now,” Bruce said.

“Consider me bewitched. I’ll conceal the time for twenty-four hours, after which I will simply note that the folder was open on this date.”

“Thanks.”

Double-clicking the folder felt almost taboo. He picked a file at random, opening it to see that it showed Cicely at the library, seated at the same computer as before. Her hair was in its ponytail, and she was in scrubs. The timestamp showed this was two days after the first library visit, probably after her shift.

This time, her search term was ‘Bruce Banner articles.’ Her blue eyes were serious, her teeth worrying at her lower lip as she sorted through the many, many results. To his surprise she didn’t click on the ones about gamma radiation. Bruce forced himself to pause the video to see how long it was.

It was an hour.

Swearing lightly under his breath, he clicked away from the video. Watching it would do nothing good for his plans to avoid even thoughts of her, as tempting as it was. 

The next three videos he watched showed Cicely heading two or from work. It was a twenty-five minute walk for her, one that seemed to do in scrubs on cooler days and workout clothing on warmer ones. Bruce was glad to have an excuse not to focus on her but the people around her, because he could sense that he was warming to her as a person, maybe even as a person meant to be connected to him. That way lay danger.

He pulled out a notebook and started writing characteristics of people seen around her. Bruce knew he could probably ask JARVIS to do this, but he suspected that the nuance of ‘this person probably just has a similar schedule’ could be lost on the AI just like its creator.

An hour later, Bruce had meticulously gone through two dozen videos of Cicely Besnard going to and from work. His conclusion was that Tony could be right.

Someone seemed to be following her.

Next chapter, Bruce allows himself to be persuaded that he should show up at Cicely's apartment to see whether someone is stalking her...

[cloudwhisper23]

They all felt the stir when Foxy’s pieces started reconnecting to each other. The boy even noticed, exclaiming in fascination. “Oh no you don’t,” Freddy grumbled. They set their focus toward re-dividing the pieces. But Foxy’s will was stronger, and he tore free from the main body. His yellow eyes met Freddy’s blue ones. “It’s time for him to go home,” Foxy insisted, reaching toward the child as his body continued to readjust to all the proper positions. But he hadn’t entirely won the battle for his body. Not yet, anyway. And Freddy didn’t intend to give back the missing arm and leg so easily. But Foxy was always better at balancing. He simply made his tail into a makeshift leg, extending out of the other leg. It was rather strange. “He’s not going anywhere,” Freddy growled. Unfortunately for Freddy, they were no longer alone in the shed. The beam of a flashlight caught their attention, and Foxy took the opportunity to put a hand protectively around the boy. His eyes dimmed, helping him blend into the shadows easier as he guided the boy away from the other animatronic.

Okay! So, I felt like giving away an excerpt and a drawing today. I have been rather absent lately, and that is not something easily resolved. Since even in context, this hardly makes sense, I'm going to explain a few things.

That version of Foxy is Funtime Foxy, without the shell. This is because he's splitting away from Ennard in this scene. The other remaining animatronics include Lolbit, Ballora, BonBon, and Funtime Freddy at this point in time.

Ft. Freddy is still kind of in control, but it's a mutual sharing sort of thing. He leads them, but the others can still decide to take control of the entire body and pull it back away from him if they should choose.

Or they can entirely split away, taking their respective parts back. However, as you can see, they can't split off without a fight. Ft. Freddy very much wants all of them to stay together, but he also wants to control the rest of them.

You may've noticed that I refer to Ft. Freddy as they. This is not an accident. The animatronic is technically male, but arguably, since Ft. Freddy is still an animatronic, he can be an it as well. My version of Ft. Freddy is possessed by a girl, so I use they/them pronouns because she and he are one in the same at this point.

The child in question is Detective Larson's son, Ryan. Now, this whole thing gets kind of complicated, as I take random pieces from the books, but not to an extensive degree. Basically, Ryan's a child in the area, and since I've been allowing Larson to be a somewhat important character thus far, it was fitting to use Ryan as opposed to creating an entirely different child for this situation.

If you have any other questions, feel free to ask! I realize that things made out of context are sometimes very confusing, and I welcome any questions you may have.