#tumblr did unusually bad things to the quality for this one

[franzias-cave]

CRINGE: The world is ending and you're in love with your best friend who is a nun. and your roots are showing.

[your-hotdog-husband]

3:45 am: I'm shopping the Safeway app for gluten free foods after taking my ambien. This is always the worst time for me to be on my phone. I heard recently that gorillas at the zoo get so fixated on people's smart phones that it's become disruptive to the whole... "gorilla experience." Signs have been put up in some cases, asking patrons to please leave their phones in their pockets. They should lend (well, rent, realistically) camera lens attachments that allow you to hide your phone while taking pictures. IDK how this idea really could be executed. This is the worst time of night for me to be on tumblr. What is likely to be even more disruptive for some folks is the metal detector being proposed for San Diego Zoo's Gorilla World exhibit.

My wife is snoring like a... hound with allergies and sleep apnea. So... I'm gonna raid the kitchen. I left a slice of gluten free pizza in the toaster this morning. The crust was too soggy, even though I baked it almost perfectly. I'll either check the instructions or try using a grate or whatever on top of the bacon sheet. I know I said bacon. We rarely rarely eat bacon. We don't keep any in the fridge. We'd end up finishing it before the week is over. But now I'm thinking about a bacon sheet. We'd cook our six slices in the morning for breakfast or brunch, and then use the grease for baking something. How about... quesadillas? Pizza. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Oh, chicken! Right? Add it when grilling some lean hamburger patties. See, this is what happens. Around 2:30 am, an app should lock up my phone until I've had at least 7 hours total of solid, real sleep. Or it's 9am, whichever comes second. I really shouldn't be on my phone at this hour. I really am liable to say anything. Well, I've never turned nazi, and I've done this quite a lot over the last couple years. I wonder how many people fancy themselves having absolutely no nazi qualities, but once you pump them with ambien (zolpidem, generic), they throw around racist epithets, talk about elective enthnic cleansing for parents-to-be. Neuro-conforming, blond haired, blue eyed babies, tall and muscular, smart but not too smart. Well, I'm talking about it. I don't like it. I'm against it. I'm only bringing it up to illustrate how creepy it is. See, if you make your white clone army too smart, they might overcome their nazi indoctrination. Especially the women. I'm not being sexist. I'm a man, and most of my best friends are men. See, I'm mentioning sexism only in context of not engaging in it. See, there are inherent differences in humans due to differences in testosterone levels. It's not so much that testosterone makes us stupider, it just makes us more suggestable when we are amorous and after experiencing sexual pleasure, and for much of the time in between, as long as one isn't amorous for too many hours, in which case we become too irritable and distractable to influence. We're more likely to fumble about and break things in a desperate attempt to do something productive in the garage, kitchen, or office. Or we'll be in the bathroom with the door closed for a while, trying to remember the hair and style of a classmate in 12th grade, along with any of their unusual facial expressions, particularly involving their lips and closed eyes. Oh, don't forget the tongue. She (or he) always let their innocent facade slip. But only to be funny, but then again not that funny. The humorous delivery was just an excuse for an awkward double-entendre, still out of character with her good girl style. I wonder what kinds of guys she hooked up with at City College. I hope they weren't all douchy. Maybe she stuck to good Christian boys at campus fellowship, or from Bible camp. Did they make out in the boating shack? Go to third base or 3½ in the back room of the nature center?

I'm quite peckish after looking at sausages and many other foods on my phone. My wife's done snoring, bad timing as always. I hope the one sad little slice of pizza does the trick. I'm out of lunch meat.

[mottlemoth]

Was there a time where you were bad at writing, or have you always had a natural talent?

I'm 26, I used to write but haven't for a long time, and it's safe to say I'm not the best. I can piece together small scenes that I enjoy, but my ability to write a decent plot and a full story is pretty much non existent.

If there was ever a time in your life where you weren't good at writing, how did you still still force yourself to finish the damn thing in order to get better?

This might be an unusual opinion, secret person, but I honestly don't believe there's such a thing as bad writing. And I don’t know if there’s really any need to concern yourself with ‘getting better’ at your craft.

Over the course of my life, I’ve abandoned probably dozens of bestselling books by award-winning authors, usually at around chapter three. Sometimes I’m just not feeling any kind of connection to the characters. Sometimes the plot seems too evasive and too consciously clever, or the prose (which the front cover calls “lavish” and “sumptuous”) just feels puffed up and confusing to me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to evade the question, “Did you read that book I told you about? Isn’t it good?” The words “it’s so well-written” are starting to feel like a red flag to me.

On the flipside, there are books which I absolutely love but get shredded to pieces on Goodreads. Half of my favourite fanfiction pieces have a tenth of the kudos I think they should. Sometimes I’ll pick something up in a Kindle sale because I’m bored and it’s only a quid, then devour the whole thing in one night. I’m left broken and haunted when it’s over. I feel physical, gut-wrenching guilt that I paid a mere pound for what seems to me a masterpiece - then I check it out on Goodreads, and sure enough, there are the one-star reviews. “A yawn fest, poorly written, DNF at chapter three.”

I guess what I’m saying is this: there’s no such thing as objective quality. 

And more importantly, this: whatever kind of writing is attempting to enter the world through you, someone out there is desperate to read it. It’s not necessarily your job to make it better. It’s your job to let it through.

I get the feeling you’re punishing yourself a bit right now, saying you can only piece small scenes together. But listen: I love stories where small scenes are pieced together. Genuinely, my one true love on AO3 is fics that are tagged “just vibes” or “vignettes” or “no hurt only comfort”. I tend to write very plotty, angsty stories which go on forever, but when I’m reading, I want someone to show me my OTP in a bubblebath for a few hundred words. Sometimes I get asks from other writers wanting to know how it is I write angst and high drama - they’ve tried it themselves but lost interest, and they worry that it indicates some lack of skill on their part. But it doesn’t at all. The key part is this: lost interest. It’s not that you’re bad at this part of writing, or that part of writing, or by extension bad at writing itself. You’re just a different kind of writer. Your heart is interested in different things. It’s like seeing a beautiful bird berate itself because it can’t really swim.

Sometimes I see writers mad at themselves because they used to write one way and now they write another. I’ve seen my friends lament “crappy little poems” which deserve to be in a magazine, just because they’re not writing the sort of dense political novel they studied at university. It breaks my heart. Life’s short, secret person, and you are so unique. Express what you’ve got, warts and all, however it comes. Somebody out there will adore it.

(And on the subject, half the things people hold up as examples of “poor writing”, or those Tumblr lists of “ways to improve your craft”... give me a break. I never intended to become some kind of paladin for adverbs, but here we are. Adverbs are discussed by some writing guides as if it’s better just to shoot yourself in the face than use one. When the hell did this get decided? It drives me up the wall. Go pick up any book by the best-selling novelist of all time, open literally any page and you’ll find an imperial fuckton of adverbs. “Hmm, yes, well, Agatha Christie’s prose was often subpar,” modern critics drone. Yeah? Then why is the whole world still in love with her work? Because Agatha Christie didn’t worry about ‘improving her craft’. She understood that she was her craft. She just sat at the typewriter and let it come through - and if ‘he stated loudly’ was what came through, then that’s what she put down.)

To answer your final question, secret person - how to force oneself to finish something - I’m going to float the suggestion that you step back entirely, put your hands up, and have an honest and compassionate conversation with yourself. Why are you struggling with this project? Is it because you don’t actually like this kind of story, and you’re desperate to write something that you do like? Or do you love this project so much that you’ve become a little nervous in these later stages, wanting to do it justice? (The answer to that is, don’t worry about making it good. Just let yourself make it how you want it. If you’re enjoying the story, someone else will, too.) If you can’t quite tell at the moment, that’s fine. Put the whole thing aside for a month and let the answer come to you. And remember, you’re not obliged to finish every project that you start. Sometimes you’ll finish things (i.e., they have brought you sufficient creative satisfaction) before the final chapter rolls around.

To summarise, don’t let yourself get tangled up in talk of good writing, or bad writing. Just give the world your writing. One reader’s DNF-at-chapter-three is another reader’s absolute all-time favourite. There’s literally no way to please all of us, so focus on pleasing yourself.

[allekha]

Why is Evgenia one of your favorite skaters?

Hiya!

The thing that most makes her my one of my favorites is her performance ability. I rarely feel that she is going through the motions; she gets deep into the character she is portraying and sells it 100%. When the Alegria video came out yesterday, I watched it on mute, as I was in public at the time, and even with no sound and on a phone screen, the energy she put into it captivated me.

Some other factors: while I'm not going to give Sambo any credit for healthy coaching, and they pigeonholed her too much in both theme and style - she did get some unique programs there. They were full and interesting from start to finish (a little too full at points, but I think Evgenia mostly escaped the rushed cramming). A lot of her skating and movement quality was still rough around the edges in her first senior year, but her 2015 FS's step sequence is unusual and unforgettable to me despite the flaws.

Her 2016 SP is delightful and joyous. The story of a girl growing into a woman is obvious, sure, but it’s touching, and it was given to her at the perfect moment. (I refuse to rewatch the 2016 FS in its entirety - honestly, it was kind of relief to hear even Evgenia didn't like it - but it did have a surprisingly complicated step sequence.)

Once she was able to ditch the weird death programs and take creative control, she started experimenting a lot more, using different choreographers, and choreographing some of her own exhibitions. For the most part, I think this worked out well and broadened her range of expression, making her an even better performer to watch.

Orange-Colored Sky was never quite there in competition, unfortunately - I adored it when she was able to give it the playfulness it needed in practice - but Tosca was the old dramatics with more reliance on body language. Exogenesis was Averbukh style without the miming and greater emphasis on edges and clean lines. Beautiful Mess and idonwannabeyouanymore are packed with emotion. Alegria is centered on unique movements.

Her strongest jumps, 3S and 3Lo, are well-done and pretty.

Her signature skid spiral is also pretty! I don't understand those who think it's ugly lol. I also appreciate that in the past couple years, she's been using it without needing to jam it into every program somewhere because It's The Evgenia Move.

Personality-wise, she comes across as super determined even for an athlete, which makes her interesting to follow. The prime example of this is the whole coaching change - it's clear from interviews she knew there would be drama, although I get the feeling that the intensity of fan hatred she received surprised her.

There's also how in that 2018 season, she went from struggling at her GP events and a bad SP at Nationals to coming back with fire and eventually winning a medal at Worlds. While dealing with a serious back injury, a new approach to coaching, changing jump technique, losing the recycled elements, figuring out a new combo, and a flood of people posting that she needed to retire because she's OLD and STEALING OUR TAX MONEY and ARMENIAN TRAITOR and FLUTZ.

...she also once jumped a 3/3/3 in competition and Zayak'd herself for fun!

She is very cute and endearing. I also like anime, so it's fun to see her geek out about it, too :)

(Also this post by @the-real-xmonster, which the Tumblr search refuses to find any gifs from)

On a more shallow note, she is very pretty, and most of her costumes have been beautiful. I think her 2017 SP costume is the most lovely dress I have ever seen in figure skating

(photo by David W. Carmichael)

though her Leftovers/Meditation/Windmills dress is good competition.

Overall, her performance and style strongly speak to me, and I enjoy both her playfulness and determined drive to improve her skating. I've been able to see her compete twice in real life, and I'm very happy about that :)

[angry-slytherin]

We Really Like Fluff

a totally incomplete guide to dousy fan fictions that are a must:

according to me, anyway

no idea where to start? looking for a fic you read a year ago? I’ve got you.

help me find the tumblrs of those not tagged (if they have one)!

all we do is drive. (romantashas) @romantashas

Daisy has missed the open road. She used to always love taking her van out and just driving. Los Angeles was where she liked to stick around, but she would always go on these road trips just because she wanted to explore somewhere new.

She's always liked running away from things.

It was different, having someone with her.

In which Daisy Johnson helps Daniel Sousa explore the modern world by taking him on a cross-country road trip in a van. Post-Finale road trip AU with MCU tie-ins.

the first beloved fic by this fandom. completed in august 2020, it strays from canon somewhat at S7E11, but the characterization makes you forget that anything is different at all. truly a masterpiece, and definitely a must-read.

6/17/55 (lazyfish)

6/17/55.

She never thought it would mean 1955.

(Spoilers up to 7.06.)

one shot. soulmate au. beautifully written. it’s only just under 2k words but one of the most popular fan fictions under the tag on ao3. absolutely adorable and you’ll feel your heart flutter for them.

One Year Later (marvelsquake) @marvelsquake

Set right after the series finale's 'one year later' part where Daisy stares into space with Sousa and Kora.

Inspired by the 'anatomy analysis' bit Jemma says to Daisy.

there are so many amazing “anatomy analysis” fics out there. that is one of those “if you know, you know” things;) this one is really thoroughly written, and marvelsquake took their time to make every detail perfect. really, just excellent.

Stay (SteeleHoltingOn) @steeleholtingon

Not everyone knew she could feel heartbeats. Sousa’s sped up every time he looked her way.

His reaction wasn’t particularly unusual, and Daisy was an expert at fending off unwanted advances. But that was just it: Sousa hadn’t actually made any advances, and if he did, Daisy wasn’t sure she’d ward them off.

Her heartbeat, it seemed, liked to match tempo with his.

this one needs little introduction. it has been recced(??) to death, and rightfully so!!! the author is this incredible genius and I love them for giving this to us. it’s over 150k words, so be ready to commit some much deserved time to this excellent character study on both Daisy and Daniel.

Feel Good(I Like It) (enigmaforum)

It's not the the first time she’s felt something for someone since Lincoln but it’s the first time she felt like it had the possibility to actually turn into something. Something Good.

I’ve always loved the title of this fic, but that’s besides the point. enigmaforum is a very talented writer who does plot AND characterization like a pro. definitely an A+ in terms of quality. also part of a series with some other excellent works!

Exposure (agentquakingskye) @blcssqvake on instagram

Dying in a half-second blast of radiation wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be.

Dying all over again, slowly, because of that half-second of radiation?

That was worse.

okay I lied. we also love angst and this work is angst central. it’s a cancer AU following the finale, but it’s just as happy as it as sad. prepare your tissues, but also prepare for some seriously good writing.

A Week After Death (manoutoftimeandquake) @puddle-of-awesomeness

An explosion in an alien junkyard sends Daisy, Sousa and Kora back in time to meet some people from Sousa's past.

the astro ambassadors sent back in time to meet the AC cast(essentially). such a fun, action-packed, hilarious work. such a classic. go read it now!!

Where I Need To Be (JennaPotter)

This is set from Episode 7x03 onwards and follows the story of Daisy Johnson and Daniel Sousa, and how their relationship has been developing throughout this amazing season of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.! This story mostly follows canon but is interspersed with missing moments between Daisy and Sousa that I imagine could have happened off-screen.

almost 200k words of absolute beauty. it’s incredibly detailed and excellently written. it’s like reading a published novel!! but with dousy!!

you’ve got that power(over me) (romantashas) @romantashas

"It's you," Daniel whispers. He's in awe, looking at Quake. She steps back away from him. "Let me help you," he says, reaching out toward her injured arm slowly.

Daniel only gets a moment more to admire her glowing eyes and her purple hair before she turns and runs away, her hand slipping out of his.

In which the superheroes of the Marvelverse actually try to keep their identities a secret and Daniel Sousa is determined to figure out who is behind the mysterious Quake mask. Superhero AU with MCU tie-ins.

yet another classic(I’m definitely misusing that word… it’s deserved by these authors) work by romantashas. the description gives the gist of it, but it’s one of the best dousy AUs out there.

get ready for the shameless self promo…

Your Heartbeat On The Highline(Once In Twenty Lifetimes) (doctorsimmonswilson) @angry-slytherin

He’s a man out of time and she’s an orphaned superhero. They’ve just got to figure out what to do next, after the mission is over.

[aka Daisy and Daniel’s story post finale]

welp… I included my own story. honestly it’s because it is one of the most popular in the tag(I’m sifting through too kudos and top hits). I’m really super proud of it, so read it if you’d like. it’s canon compliant (and extremely fluffy for the most part:)

somebody hurt you(but you’re here by my side) (agentmmayy) @agentmmayy

Daniel doesn't leave Daisy's side, even when she's out of the healing chamber.

very popular, and for good reason. such a sweet, nice fic. I very much enjoyed it and it’s a quicker read than most on this list!

and here’s to the question marks

aka: unfinished works that are beautiful and deserve your attention

want you(to unravel me) (IzzieBee)

Daisy never wanted to be rescued, by anyone. She never wanted to owe someone that debt, but especially not to a handsome WWII Vet, traveling through time. Daniel, who was brave and decent, and kind of funny, and who she could easily depend on, which was way too dangerous to consider.

OR

Daisy really wasn't ready for Daniel Sousa.

sexy, fun, well-written… what more could we ask for? it’s missing the last chapter, but the brunt of the story is there, and it’s satisfying either way.

A Truth Stranger Than Fiction (wordsmithraven)

Daniel Sousa was having the worst day of his life...and he’d lived through a war. Service had always been something he’d understood. Honor. Sacrifice. Duty. He’d just never thought his journey would mean leaving everything he loved behind.

a lot of daisy and daniel getting to know one another… a little bit of season 7 adventure… a whole bunch of fun.

Loving The Journey Together (manoutoftimeandquake) @puddle-of-awesomeness

Moments in the lives of Daisy and Sousa (and Kora) after the end of the team's final mission.

this one is a WIP(being updated currently). manoutoftimeandquake has some amazing snippets/slices of life waiting for you in that work!

it’s in the subtext (eggsaladstain)

Snippets of the relationship between Daisy Johnson and Daniel Sousa through the words they said and the ones they didn’t.

SO. FREAKING. GOOD. just go read it, okay?

and finally, some links to some authors who’ve written a bunch of amazing stuff.

romantashas

manoutoftimeandquake

enigmaforum

@hecckyeah

lazyfish

hereforthephilindafics

dearemma

seriously, there’s so many more amazing fics in this tag. I didn’t have the energy to include all 800+. these are just some that are most popular and/or deserve your attention.

thank you for taking the time to read through all of this! I hope you’ve found some things to bookmark(or binge-read;)

[choicesarehard]

I keep my streams about Wolf Bride light-hearted. It’s been a hell of a year, and I think we all need a space where we can laugh together. But part of responsibly consuming problematic media is being aware of where it fails. And that’s why I think it’s important to talk about Morgan, and Wolf Bride’s troubling depiction of blindness. 

Morgan is one of the first Love Interests in Choices to have a canon disability. She is representation many players with disabilities, like myself, are eager for. But like any form of representation, writing a blind character requires research. A quick google search will lead you to numerous visually impaired voices who outline the tropes and stereotypes that harm their community. Wolf Bride has included nearly all of them. 

signal boosts are appreciated

Not All Blind People Wear Sunglasses

Morgan is shown wearing dark sunglasses from the moment she appears on screen. And there are certainly blind people who wear sunglasses — particularly those who (unlike Morgan) can still perceive some degree of light and dark, and experience painful light sensitivity. But no context is ever giving for Morgan’s use of sunglasses. In fact, they aren’t even addressed for four chapters. 

[ID: Two screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box over a forest background, and reads “You glance at Morgan, and are surprised to see the dark glasses still covering her eyes.” The second features a labeled image of her sunglasses, placed over a black background, with a selectable button that reads “What does Morgan look like without these?”] What follows is a scene Pixelberry could have used to provide insight into an assistive device the sighted community may not be entirely familiar with. They could have touched on degrees of visual impairment, or why some blind individuals need dark lenses while others don’t. They could even have explained that for some individuals with visual impairments, dark lenses make tasks like reading or navigating dimly lit spaces harder.  Instead, and far more troublingly, MC is given the option to ask Morgan not to wear them anymore. And depending on your choice, the book is coded to remove the sunglasses from her sprite in future scenes. This reduces an assistive device to a fashion choice, something our MC can wish away if they don’t find it attractive. And that isn’t okay. 

Unusual Eyes

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box placed over a forest background that reads “With a start, you realize her pale eyes aren’t looking at you, aren’t seeing you, aren’t seeing anything.” The second features Morgan’s sad sprite in the same forest setting, and a text box that reads “...I’ve been blind since birth.”] Morgan has a customizable sprite. But regardless of the ethnicity you select for her, she is depicted with pale blue eyes. And that troubles me. Because the stereotype that all blind individuals have cloudy, distorted, or unusual eyes is pervasive and harmful. 

Even when it isn’t tied to another harmful trope — the blind character as mystical seer or psychic — this stereotype create an expectation that blindness is something that always manifests in a visible way. And for millions of blind individuals, that isn’t the case. 

And while cataracts, trauma to the eye, and corneal infections can all cause the clouded effect most of us recognize from media, none turn your brown eyes into blue.  Heightened Senses

Another common stereotype in media is the blind character who’s remaining senses have become heightened as a compensatory mechanism, often to a supernatural degree.

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Four of Wolf Bride. The first features Morgan’s surprised sprite in a forest setting and a text box that reads “I guess I sort of...feel things. Like the place on my cheek where the branch blocked the wind.” The second features Morgan’s neutral sprite in the same forest setting, and a text box that reads “I can smell the dew on the leaves, and the moss on the bark. Can’t you?] Individuals with visual impairment may learn to rely on their other senses to navigate the world around them. But they do not suddenly gain the ability to sense the location of a branch based on wind patterns, or to accurately throw a dart at a carnival game ballon based on its smell. 

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eight of Wolf Bride. The first features a text box placed over a carnival background that reads “Pop! Pop! Pop! Three darts fly through the air, striking their targets.” The second features the white MC with straight blonde hair. Her sprite is surprised, and beneath it is a text box that reads “So you did that by smell, too?]

This trope may seem harmless — after all, it gave us Daredevil, a beloved blind superhero — but it contributes to the unachievable expectations we often place on real-world individuals with visually impairments. And that isn’t fair. 

Of course, we all suspected Morgan’s abilities were due to something other than heightened senses. And that in and of itself is a problem. 

Magical / Supernatural Abilities

To the surprise of no one, Morgan exhibits these unusual abilities because she is a werewolf. But choosing to give a blind character magical abilities should only be done after asking yourself some challenging questions. As visually-impaired Tumblr user @mimzy-writing-online explains:

Your blind characters don’t need a magical ability that negates their blindness. [Ask yourself why it’s so important to you to give them one]. If it’s because they can’t do all the things you want them to do without it, then should you really have written them as blind in the first place? 

And that’s the thing. Morgan isn’t actually written as a blind character, not when it counts. Morgan shoots bullets with accuracy, runs through unfamiliar terrain, and navigates moving objects with ease. She doesn’t use common assistive devices like canes or screen readers. Her sunglasses are discarded at MC’s request. The scientific papers that fill her research facility are not digitized for accessibility or written in braille. 

Even her dreams, which should be reflections of how she perceives reality, look identical to Bastien's — which makes no sense for someone who has been canonically blind since birth. 

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapters Five and Eight of Wolf Bride. The first features a scene from Morgan’s lucid dream. Set in a glamorous hotel, it includes visual details like twinkling lights, and patterned carpets. The color is tinted a grey-blue and the exposure on the image has been increased to an unnatural level. The second features a scene from Bastien’s lucid dream. Set in a forest, it shares the same tinted and over-exposed qualities as the first.]

Her blindness isn’t an integral part of her character. Instead, it’s a narrative device, paraded in front of the reader when it can further a central — and deeply disturbing — plot point. [content warning: discussion of discrimination and child abuse / abandonment ahead]  Morgan Was Left to Die Because She Was Blind 

And Jesus, what a plot point it is. In Chapter 11, we learn that Morgan was left to die in the woods because she was born “wrong, sickly, blind.” But the only canonical disability or illness she is ever shown to have is her blindness. 

[ID: Three side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eleven of Wolf Bride. The first two feature the white MC with straight blonde hair’s shocked sprite in front of a forest background. The first text box reads “I don’t understand...” followed by two dialogue options “Why was Morgan abandoned?” and “Is that what you do to full moon babies? Kill them?” The second panel’s read box reads “Just because she was blind?” The third panel features  the old woman Noemi’s sad sprite, placed over a forest background. Her text box reads “If we know an infant will not survive, it is best to let it die quickly.”]

I...am frankly having a hard time thinking through the screenshot-induced fury to make a coherent argument here. To imply that blindness is an impairment so limiting that death is the only foreseeable outcome? That being born blind somehow makes a child “wrong”? The ignorance and prejudice shown in this scene is staggering. 

But equally troubling is the response of the main characters to this revelation. Yes, in fiction, bad people sometimes do bad things. But Noemi isn’t shown to be a bad person. Neither is Bastien, who knew what his pack had been guilty of in the past, and even seeks to justify it to a limited degree. 

Most shockingly, Morgan herself, who in the second screenshot below has just overheard that she was left to die as an infant because she is blind, isn’t angry or upset. She’s almost apologetic, still seeking a place within the pack. 

[ID: Two side-by-side screenshots from Chapter Eleven of Wolf Bride. The first features Hispanic Bastien’s sad sprite in front of a forest background. The text box beneath him reads “It doesn’t happen often, Clara, but...” The second features white Morgan’s sad sprite in front of the same forest background. The text box beneath her reads “I didn’t mean any harm. Especially after...what I just overheard.”]

By introducing the idea that a child born blind cannot survive, let alone thrive, without superhuman abilities, and then failing to soundly and thoroughly refute that idea through the characters we identify with, Pixelberry is unintentionally perpetuating the same false beliefs that have led to real-world instances of infanticide for centuries. And that isn’t okay. 

I don’t know where Pixelberry will go with the story from here. Perhaps in today’s chapter some of these concerns have been addressed...but I doubt it. In the meantime, I’ve also written to their support staff to express my deep concern and disappointment in the treatment of Morgan’s character. And I’d encourage you to do the same. 

Will I continue to keep streaming Wolf Bride? For now, yes. My VIP subscription is already paid for, and frankly, I want to see Morgan’s arc through. I guess the small part of me that was excited for the representation is still hopeful the narrative can be corrected. 

But I’ll be adding a content warning at the start of each stream for ablism, and that’s something I never thought I’d have to do.  Screenshots courtesy of CrimsonFeatherGames on Youtube

[gemsofgreece]

Bad Boys of the Greek Cuisine

Everyone’s taste is different but the Greek Cuisine is generally acknowledged as a very tasty cuisine with both European and Middle Eastern influences. Not only that but it is considered one of the healthiest diets in the world with one of its branches, the Cretan diet, taking the first place the last time I checked. The secret of this cuisine’s success lies on the use of top quality and very fresh products and not so much on the use of many or unusual ingredients. However, that’s not to say that the Greek cuisine does not come with its fair share of extreme dishes. Here are some of them: Πατσάς - Patsás Patsas is a tripe soup / stew aka a stew made of stomach. It looks innocent and it is usually eaten as a comfort food but the cooking process smells like the name sounds... In Greece, there are shops called Patsatzídika that stay open until way past midnight and offer exclusively this dish and they are preferred after a lot of alcohol consumption. I had to remove the picture because I had eleven in this post and Tumblr sucks. I removed Patsas because it is the most normal looking one. Χοχλιοί μπουμπουριστοί - Hochlií buburistí Probably the Greek dish with the hardest name, at least for me. It is a traditional dish of Crete island but you can enjoy it all around Greece, provided that you are eager to eat... snails.

Κοκορέτσι - Kokoretsi Kokoretsi is a roasted dish made of animal intestines, livers and lungs served in slices. While this name does not originate from the Greek language, the dish was already loved by the Byzantine Greeks who called it “Chordae” meaning cords. The dish is hard to be prepared as it is necessary that the intestines are very carefully cleaned with tools such as pencils and knitting needles. In Greece it is often served at Easter.

Σπληνάντερο - Splinándero It is what its name means: Spleen and Large Bowel. Plus heart. From old sheep and goats. Also served at Easter because apparently Greeks go feral during Easter.

Μαγειρίτσα - Mayiritsa Another Easter classic, served during the Holy Saturday, Mayiritsa is a liver and heart soup. It’s certainly not for the faint of... nose such as me who I had to leave the house as my mum was cooking it. This is why recently a new type of Mayiritsa is trending, which replaces the organs with mushrooms and it is ideal for vegetarians and people with a sensitive nose. Nevertheless, most people love traditional Mayiritsa. Once I found an ice cream shop in Thessaloniki serving a mayiritsa flavour. What the heck.

By they way we have like another gazillion intestine dishes for some unknown reason but I will skip them to make this post more varied. Αχινοί - Raw Urchins This is a delicacy to several sea cuisines around the world. Greece is one of them. Recipe: go to a beach with clear waters, look for an urchin, hold it carefully, cut the living urchin in half with a knife and pour fresh lemon juice on it. That's it, that's the recipe.

Χταπόδι - Octopus This is by no means an extreme food in Greece but I include it here because I was surprised to find out it is nowhere as common in most countries and people often have a strong reaction to it. Well, in Greece we only have a reaction of fierce love for it. Octopus is used in several Greek dishes but the most iconic is probably grilled octopus marinated in vinegar often served with Greek sauerkraut salad. Seafood restaurants often hang fresh fished octopuses outside their shops and let them dry in the sun. It is a classic image of Greece and a sign the restaurant offers very fresh products. It was literally grabbed from the sea and flung to your face, top that level of freshness if you can.

Σπινιάλο - Spinialo Spinialo is a traditional seafood dish originating from the island of Kalymnos. The dish consists of fouskes, sea squirts that are marinated in a bottle of seawater. These primitive marine vertebrates usually attach themselves to shells and rocks, and when cut in half, fouskes reveal a soft flesh with a strong and bitter flavor and a texture that's similar to scrambled eggs.

Αρνί στη σούβλα - Skewered lamb If you are in anyway familiar with Greece, you probably know what the main event of our Easter feasts is. Roasting a whole skewered lamb. I imagine people freaking out at that. But, hey, it's a huge part of our tradition. And don't mind me saying, it bloody tastes insane. It's funny that in 27 years of life, now that I'm typing this in English, it is the first time it occurs to me that some people could potentially find this weird.

Πεσκανδρίτσα - Angler fish This hideous fish is eaten in two ways. Its...uhm... head is a common ingredient of Greek fish soups. I am personally not that much into soups or fish but let me tell you and sign this as well: this unassuming fellow has the most delicious tail. Its tail is called Μπρασκοουρά (Braskourá) and is heaven when fried. Don't look at it, just read my words and trust them.

Κεφαλάκι σούπα - Head soup The name sounds too generic but at least it is only about (poor) goats and sheep. This dish is getting a little too extreme for young Greeks but in my parents' generation, parents would chase the children to eat the eyes because that supposedly made you clever. The tongue was enjoyed too. Anyway, I'll spare you of a graphic image.

I am loth to end this fantastic post but the new BETA mode I am on forbids more than 10 pictures (that’s the actual reason I did not add a head soup picture and not that I am kind-hearted) so I'm gonna end this with the weirdest type of meat we eat. Like I said above, some things here might look a bit much, but when it comes to the types of meat Greeks eat, we really don't like taking the uncommon path. Greek cuisine is more mellow than extreme. Ironically, Greeks eat meats well done or medium at most because they are squeamish at the idea of eating bloody or remotely raw meat. So they eat a load of bowels and heads that stare at your soul but at least they are cooked for, like, 6 hours, you know, to ensure they are absolutely dead. Greeks typically devour eat farm animals, poultry, boars and a few commonly hunted birds, almost all fish and seafood. They also eat rabbits and hares (would that be considered uncommon? IDK) but that's where it ends. For instance, deer can be found in Greek supermarkets but nobody wants to eat such a gorgeous being and if you eat horse intentionally, you might as well get kicked out of the country (exaggeration but still). So, farm mammals, a few birds, fish and seafood. And snails. That's all. Oh! And- Βατραχοπόδαρα - Frog legs Frog legs is a traditional delicacy of the mountainous lakeside city of Ioannina. It is the only region of Greece where frogs are eaten. It is a tasty looking dish and those who have tried it say it actually tastes a lot like chicken. Actually sign me up for this. I mean, look at that. Why the hell not?

Now I wonder how many people decided to all of a sudden not travel to Greece and how many decided to come just now. And I wonder what that nice Anon who complimented my delicious food posts thinks now. But remember, Greek cuisine might have some bad boys but it also has many good good gooooood ones.

[thesimperiuscurse]

08.04

It’s The Kingston Legacy’s sixth anniversary, so here’s a throwback post to celebrate! Last month I forced myself to reread the entire legacy, and while I stopped, clicked off the tab, and emitted a soundless scream of pure cringe numerous times (I wish I was kidding)—the past generations are actually not as terrible as I remember. I think enough time has passed for me to detach myself from the childish storytelling and look back in nostalgia. 

Thank you to my fellow Wordpress writers who have come along the journey, some for many years now, through every high and low. It’s astounding how much has changed in the legacy from when I was 15, and 21. Follow me down the (very) long memory lane, as I reminiscence about each story and my perspective on them now ❤

Generation 1 — Fern (2015)

To my shock, I found myself genuinely enjoying Fern’s story. I think this was because the first generation was purely me commentating on gameplay, and not trying to write a story (that’s when the cringe began). I was inspired by one of the original stories, Alice and Kev, to make a homeless sim and document her struggle for a better life: Fern, a snobby aspiring writer. Reading this, a huge wave of nostalgia hit me, and it reminded me of how wonderful Sims 3 gameplay is. Although I’m long past it now, there’s real heart and life in the design. I think it speaks about the rich personalities and quirks that I could write a whole life story off it. It was super fun making Fern camp out at Old Pier Beach, stealing from townie picnics and roasting apples on the fire, finding little ways to scrounge money, giving her a makeover in the salon, watching the townie dramas unfold around her. Although she faced homelessness two times and a shitty first husband (yeah, fuck off, Xander), Fern grew into a strong and independent yet sweet and gentle character, in love with the ocean like her great-granddaughter comes to be.  

I never actually addressed this, but she (and her love Christopher) passed away in the story between the end of Gen 3 and start of Gen 4. It just felt weird to make it a big deal because they never died in game—still ‘alive’ and well, scattered across different backup saves and the bin.  

Generation 2 — Briar (2015)

Briar’s story was strange, because it was half gameplay and half story, which meant that there were things that just did not... make... sense. She was quite an ‘unreliable’ character to follow because of her Insane trait. The plot revolved around her as a fresh detective, investigating supernatural phenomena in Sunset Valley. Her character arc was almost the opposite to her mother’s: a naive, optimistic, silly girl hardening through trauma into a cold and ruthless police chief. Ash’s death was the one moment I felt true sadness in this legacy, because he did really die. Imagine me actually getting emotional over my characters, lmao. Wild. 

Also, Max is OP. To this day he is one of the best male characters in my legacy, a healthy and supportive best friend (to husband) in stark contrast to the following generation. 

Fallen Angels — Cherry (2016-2019)

Yes. It’s this generation. Square the fuck up, Cherry. I will fight her any day. Old readers will know of my pure hatred for this story. It’s been about two years since it thankfully ended. My verdict now?

It’s not quite as horrifically shitty, Gabriel and Lilith being a lot nicer than I remembered (Gabriel’s only a bit of a dick at the start), but it still has glaring problems, such as the pacing and clumsy handling of sensitive topics. The story would have been far nicer if it focused less on Cherry and Luc’s relationship and their respective issues, more on the found family and her relationship with Gabriel (which was rushed due to me despising the story by that point). During the first chapters, I was cringing spectacularly at the combination of Luc’s initial jackass behaviour and Cherry’s whining. Toxic as FUCK. I had to skip 3.8 and 3.9 entirely. These two (because of my own shameful mistake) tainted the generation in my eyes, and even though all of the characters grew from their toxicity, I can’t really see past that guilt to the better parts of the story. 

Jade has been telling me for years that this story isn’t all bad, and upon forcing myself to reread, I can see what you mean. I’m sorry LOL. Something that pleasantly surprised me was the writing quality (just the prose, not the actual story mechanics... lmfao), and Raphael, who made me smile every time he appeared. Every single careless, sarcastic line of his was a banger. The pictures are something else I like, too. Many of them stand up to the best ones in En Pointe—the fiery, gritty, industrial tones of Bridgeport just hits different. The world was rich and immersive, which is missing at the moment in En Pointe because of me being too lazy to build a proper Los Angeles world, but Act III is set in Boroughsburg so I’m excited to get back into the city scenes. 17 year old me wasn’t mature enough to tackle dark themes, but at least the visuals for them were nice, I guess. The atmosphere of the story I really enjoy. It’s just the toxic characters and way-too-angsty moments that ruin the whole thing for me. 

En Pointe — Evangeline (2019-)

And here we are now! The early chapters are kinda painful to read because 1) Mako looked so ugly and 2) the dialogue was so clumsy and generic. I sighed in relief when Chapter 5 came around, because it was then both of those aspects really began to improve. Eva’s voice was simple, with her punchy remarks, much less romantic and descriptive than Cherry, so it was interesting to see her voice becoming more complex and layered as I more understood her character. Also, me visibly struggling with the natural lighting and only getting a handle on it 7 chapters later has me shaking my head. 

I’m already beginning to identify issues with the story, mostly with character arcs and pacing. It’s a strange combination of fast pacing (spanning half a year in 8 chapters) and Eva becoming surprisingly comfortable with Mako’s touch due to their unusual pas de deux circumstances. It’s curious how real life time actually played into the pacing of the story—because of the slow publishing schedule, less time has passed in the story as real life, so it’s almost as if the time jumps were made up by real life time, making the jumps feel not too strange. Reading consecutively, however, Evako’s relationship growth doesn’t feel slow burn... a little underdeveloped, in a way, despite their lengthy conversations. I think that’s because of Mako being such a reserved and mysterious character, and that I’ve unconsciously come to rely on Tumblr to give more depth to the characters/relationships. Luckily, pretty much everyone who comments on the story also follows me here, so this dual-platform storytelling is okay, I suppose. I want to post more of #Mishako since there just isn’t enough time to explore their bromance in the story!

At the moment I’m not happy with the story, but it’s fine. I’m learning. There’s more than half the story to go, which means plenty of time to reflect upon the issues and improve. I’m really looking forward to Eva and Mako’s character arcs in Act III. At the moment their relationship is based on their natural chemistry and respect for each other, and since they are yet to face trials their bond isn’t super deep, but Evako are still my favourite couple in the legacy thus far, and feel much more real than any character I’ve written before. It’s been very interesting for my aro ass (and being way more logical than emotional) to figure out a dynamic that is actually compelling to me, because most of the time when I look at romance I’m just like 😐🤨 I’m liking it so far but we shall see how everything unfolds, because I have barely any idea what’s going to happen beyond Act II, lmfao. 

That’s it for my incredibly long throwback! I hope it was at least nice for the OG readers, and interesting for anyone else who managed to battle through this essay, haha. This family has been an integral part of me growing up, as a person and writer and artist (what I’ve developed in visuals I apply to architecture), learning a great deal of awareness about real life through story research, which is pretty cool now that I think about it. I’m aiming to finish En Pointe by the end of 2022. I’m excited for what unexpected changes are to come!

[momsopposed2theoccult]

Not Alone

So I wrote a thing. It’s Tokka-ish but could be interpreted as romantic or platonic. I’m currently waiting on an Ao3 invite so I’ll probably post it on there as well once I receive my invite, but for now I figured I would post it on here because I’m excited to share it with you all! Oh and here’s a friendly reminder that Post Plus is bullshit and you will never, ever have to pay to read my writing. Writing is something I do for fun, and I post it on Tumblr because I want other people who love these characters as much as I do to be able to share that experience with me. Not to mention that I’m not looking to get sued by Nickelodeon.

The first time that Sokka noticed there was something wrong with Toph, she had been six months pregnant. 

The two of them were lounging around her living room, Sokka stretched out across the couch with his left arm dangling off the side and Toph relaxing in an oversized armchair, her swollen feet perched on the ottoman in front of her and one hand resting on her rounded stomach. It was an unusually hot summer’s day, and the two old friends had happily retreated into the sweet relief of Toph’s newly installed air conditioning.

“Sokka, do you think I’ll be an okay mother?”

Sokka was taken aback by his friend’s blunt question. 

“Well, just as long as you pay better attention to the kid than you did to Appa, I think you’ll be golden,” he joked, reflecting back briefly on the memory from their war days. 

The then-tiny girl had tried with all her might to prevent Wan Shi Tong’s library from collapsing under the weight of Sokka’s own impulsive curiosity, all while trying to rescue their beloved sky bison from his captors. He would never forget the look on her face after it happened, nor would he forget the months she spent perfecting her sandbending afterwards, determined that she would never make such a mistake again.

Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say.

Toph’s eyebrows scrunched together in a look of concern as she rubbed absentminded circles on the curve of her stomach with a flat palm.

“Sokka, I’m serious. Do you think I’ll be an okay mother?,” she repeated, some anxiety creeping into her voice. 

“Well, yeah. Sure. Why wouldn’t you be?,” Sokka replied, although he couldn’t ignore the uncertainty in his own voice as he attempted to soothe his best friend’s anxieties surrounding the tiny life growing inside of her. 

Toph exhibited many admirable qualities, but she wasn’t exactly nurturing. He couldn’t help but recall all the plants she had failed to keep alive over the years, or the way Katara was constantly scolding her for swearing in front of Bumi and Kya, or the way she tensed up around babies, as if she were afraid she might break them. 

Toph sighed, blowing her sweaty bangs out of her face.

“I don’t know, I’m just… not great with babies. I never know what to do with them, y’know? They’re just so tiny, I always feel like I’m gonna break them in half or something equally barbaric.” 

“No, no, I’m sure you won’t-,” Sokka began to reply, but Toph had not yet finished lamenting.

“And most kids get to have their dad there, but, y’know, any hope this kid has of ever meeting that lousy excuse for a man is long gone,” she huffed angrily. 

“Daddy’s an asshole, isn’t he! Just a big ‘ole deadbeat loser!,” she said in a mocking babyish tone, giving her swollen belly a little pat.

Sokka rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics, but he couldn’t help agreeing. 

The guy’s name was Kanto. He had been a bartender at one of Sokka and Toph’s mutual favourite dives, and an okay enough guy depending on who you asked, but as far as Sokka was concerned, he was the scum of Toph’s beloved earth. 

The two of them had been getting a drink together like they always did on Friday nights, when Toph had caught the bartender’s eye. And honestly, Sokka couldn’t blame him. He certainly couldn’t deny that she was no longer the grubby twelve year old he had met all those years ago. He wasn’t going to pretend like he didn’t notice the curve of her hips or the way her tank top rode up her waist exposing a sliver of stomach. And he couldn’t ignore the way that other men checked her out nor how weird he felt about it when they did. Kanto had been one of those men. After a round of free drinks and a disgusting amount of quite frankly obnoxious eyebrow waggling, Kanto had somehow convinced Toph to come home with him, much to Sokka’s disdain. The rest was history. 

The two of them had been an item for a couple of months. Toph claimed that she was happy with him, but Sokka didn’t need his friend’s talents as a human polygraph machine to figure out that she was lying. 

He wasn’t all bad, he really wasn’t. He never laid a hand on her or anything like that. But Sokka couldn’t help noticing the subtle comments he made about her weight or her outfit or how she spoke just a little louder than he thought a woman should, nor could he miss all the changes she made to her beautiful, wonderful, perfect self just to fit his mold. 

Sokka hated that Toph’s signature confidence could crumble so easily under the will of a man like that. It made his blood boil. 

Toph began to fall apart when he finally left. Then when she found out that she was pregnant, she broke, and Sokka had been there to help pick up the pieces. 

So yeah, not exactly Sokka’s favourite guy. 

“You know you don’t need him, right?” He assured her.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” she replied, brushing him off with a faint smile that she didn’t quite put her heart into. 

Picking up on his friend’s feeble attempt to mask her obvious worry, Sokka got up from the couch and walked over to where Toph was sitting. He placed one hand firmly in hers and the other gingerly on her stomach.

“Toph, you’re the strongest person I know. Believe me when I say that if anybody can do this on their own, you can. But you won’t have to do it alone, because I’m going to be here for you every step of the way. Do you understand me?” He assured her. 

She nodded in reply. 

“Yeah, I understand. And thank you.”

But he could tell she didn’t really believe it. 

____________

The second time that Sokka noticed something was wrong with Toph had been two weeks after Lin’s birth. Four old friends had gathered on Air Temple Island for a belated celebration of the new mother and child. Aang had cooked noodles, one of Toph’s favourites, but Sokka couldn’t help noticing that the latter had hardly touched hers.

“What’s wrong, Toph? Normally you gobble this stuff up in under five minutes,” Aang asked, voicing Sokka’s thoughts exactly.

The earthbender continued to absentmindedly twirl a piece of noodle around her chopstick, never bringing it to her mouth. 

“I’m fine. Just not that hungry,” she assured them. 

Sokka caught Aang’s eye and they shared a skeptical look. Katara looked at Toph with concern and a vague familiarity, as if something had suddenly dawned on her.

“You know, if something’s bothering you, you can always talk to us about it, right? I know that this is a new experience for you, and I understand if you’re feeling a little lost-,” Katara started, but was cut off by her friend’s inevitable defensive reaction. 

“Oh, so you think this has to do with Lin? You think there’s something wrong with me? You think I’m not fit to be a mother? Well guess what? Lin and I are doing just fine on our own!,” Toph yelled in response to her friend’s gentle attempt to help her. 

“Toph, I don’t think that’s what she meant. What she was trying to say is that being a new parent is stressful enough as it is, and I can’t imagine having to do it alone. We’re here for you if you need our help or advice,” Aang tried to reason with his angry friend, but to no avail. 

“You know what, Aang? You can take your ‘advice’ and shove it up your ass. I don’t need your help, I don’t need anybody’s help. I’m a great mother!,” she shot back in response. 

Sokka sighed. There was no reasoning with Toph when she got like this. Her fits of defensiveness and anger usually masked deeper fears and insecurities that could be difficult, nearing impossible to coax out of her at first. It was usually best to give her time to herself to blow off some steam, and only then could she be convinced to admit the truth about what was bothering her. 

“I’m gonna go take a nap. That is, unless Sokka here has some unsolicited advice for me too,” she voiced in a warning tone implying that if Sokka did happen to have any comments to make, he better keep his mouth shut about them. 

Sokka threw up his hands defensively. 

“No, no, by all means, go take a nap.”

“Great, at least one of my friends doesn’t fancy himself a shrink.”

Toph stormed off in a huff to the guest bedroom, and although her fit of anger concerned him, Sokka was glad to see her getting some much-needed rest. The dark circles under her clouded eyes implying sleepless nights as of late hadn’t escaped him. 

“What was that all about?,” Aang wondered aloud. “I’ve never seen her get that angry over nothing. We were just asking if she was okay.”

“I dunno. She hasn’t really been herself recently, has she?,” Sokka replied. 

“I mean, she called me Aang. Just Aang. She only does that when she’s really upset.”

“Well, it is your name,” Sokka reminded him, although he too couldn’t help noting with concern that Toph had neglected to make use of her favourite choice nickname for their airbending friend. 

“You know, right after I had Bumi I didn’t feel like myself either,” Katara shared. “It was like, before that moment, all I had to take care of was me. But then all of a sudden there was this tiny little human being who relied on me to survive, and I wasn’t sure if I could do it. I felt like my heart was walking around outside my body, and if I made even the slightest mistake I would destroy it forever. I doubted myself a lot. Everything was just so new and overwhelming, and some days I didn’t even want to get out of bed.” 

“So you’re saying that you’re pretty sure that’s how Toph feels about Lin?,” Sokka asked tentatively as realization dawned on him. 

Katara nodded. 

“I do. Sokka, I think you should be the one to talk to her. She always listens to you. I’m not sure how you do it,” Katara remarked. 

Sokka couldn’t deny the truth of the statement. In their twenty years of friendship, he and Toph had sought comfort in each other’s presence countless times. They had a mutual understanding that the other members of their group had often tried to imitate but could never quite replicate. Sokka went to Toph, and Toph went to Sokka. It was an unspoken agreement. 

“Don’t worry, I will. I just think we should give her a little time to cool down first.”

“Good idea. You don’t want her to bite your head off,” Aang chimed in with a laugh. 

____________

About an hour later, Sokka made the journey down the hallway to the guest bedroom to check on Toph and hopefully coax her out of her mood. He opened up the door to find the room dark and Toph laying on her side on the bed. She was trying to feign sleep, but Sokka could tell she was wide awake. Baby Lin was in her crib whimpering, supposedly for her mother. Sokka picked her up in his arms and rocked her back and forth, cooing softly. 

“Here we go, Linny. It’s okay, Uncle Sokka is here.”

The child began to cry. She didn’t want her uncle, she wanted her mom. 

“No, no Linny, don’t cry. Shhhh, Mama’s right here, see?”

Sokka carried Lin over to the bed where Toph was lying and tried to shake her awake, but was met with Toph’s hand slapping him away and an irritated growl.

“Go away, Sokka.”

“Toph, I just wanna talk,” he tried.

“Don’t you understand the meaning of ‘go away,’ dumbass?” She snarked.

“You’re really going to swear in front of the baby?”

“Great. Now you think I’m a terrible mother too. It’s fine, join the party,” she said in a sarcastic, vaguely accusatory tone, followed by her best attempt at rolling her sightless eyes. 

“Toph, nobody is calling you a bad mother. We know you’re perfectly capable of raising Lin on your own. All we’re asking is that you let us help you. You’re not invincible, Toph, despite what you may have led yourself to believe.”

Toph paused, letting Sokka’s comment sink in. 

“I- I’m sorry,” she began. “I know I was being kind of a bitc- a jerk back there. And I know you don’t actually believe I’m a bad mother but, but I’m not sure if I believe it. I’m so scared, Sokka. I don’t think I can actually do this alone. I- I know I said I could, but- but I think I was just lying to you, and to myself,” she choked out as tears began to cascade down her face. 

Sokka raised his eyebrows in alarm at his toughest friend’s unexpected breakdown. He pulled her close to his chest and began to rub her back.

“No, no, Toph, don’t think that. You can do it, you can. But you don’t have to, because we’re going to be here for you every step of the way. I’m going to be here for you every step of the way. You don’t have to do this alone, you hear me?”

“Yeah- yeah I do. I do hear you,” she replied with newfound confidence, wiping her tears on his shirt. “And- and you know I’m blind, right? Not deaf. Of course I hear you,” she joked with a familiar smirk.

Sokka chuckled, glad to see that he finally had his best friend back. He pulled her closer to his chest and just sat there for a minute, planting a kiss on the top of her head and burying his face in her hair. Their moment of peaceful rest was broken by Lin’s frantic crying.

“It’s alright baby girl, it’s alright. Mama’s here,” Toph assured Lin as she picked her up and cradled her in her arms. As she carried her sleepy child back to her crib for some much-needed rest, whispering to her in soothing tones the entire time, Sokka couldn’t help noticing how at home she looked all of a sudden. How safe and comfortable she was with her baby in her arms.

She was going to be just fine. 

[nbrook29]

💞 My ultimate Sobbe fic recs 💞

Recently, I have gone through Robbe/Sander tag on ao3 and I decided to compose a list of fics that are absolute gems for me. A few disclaimers first:

✔ I didn’t include works in progress (WIPs), however I did include fics that are only on tumblr

✔ the order of the fics below is random

✔ this is the list of my personal favorites so if your favorite fic is not on the list it doesn’t mean it’s bad or that I consider it bad - we just vibe with different things :)

✔ if there’s a fic on this list that you decided to give a shot and loved it, please remember about leaving a comment under it to let the author know that

✔ I’ve been trying to add the “read more” thingy but it doesn’t show, I’m sorry, I know long posts are annoying af

under 1k

we’re keeping it simple by noobishere | G

Summary: Sander comes over unannounced and attacks Robbe’s very person (a.k.a the one where Sander teases Robbe on Eenvoud)

This is a guaranteed mood lifter. It’s short, sweet, to the point, and oh so funny. The banter. And I’d die to see that in the show. 

1k - 5k

Fizzy Colas by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Let’s say this is a clip (hopefully not as short as the standard 1:40 of this season) with Sander as the main on a ‘bros night out’ 🍻

This author is my queen/king alright? They take a simple idea and turn it into the most lovely/cute/soft story. This fic is exactly that. Sobbe’s chemistry here is out of this world and the banter is to die for.

high for this by flowersmaze (@bowieskam) | G

Summary: In which Sander remains a Flirt™ and in love with Robbe even when he can’t feel his face after a medical procedure

The summary says it all. Loopy Sander is the cutest and funniest thing.

Pull Me from the Dark by TheOceanIsMyInkwell (@theoceanismyinkwell) | T

Summary: Sander discovers that Robbe has recently been prescribed antidepressants, and Robbe opens up to him about the night he almost stepped off the bridge. Only love will show how much they’ve grown and pull them through.

This time, the boys talk about Robbe’s mental state which is unusual in fics. This oneshot is communication 101. And this line is just 👌🏻 “But after the dust of their first kiss and their first vows of commitment settled around them, Robbe took a look at the space in which he floated and realized, somewhere along the line, that finding the love of your life doesn’t fix you.”

diminuendo by noobishere

Summary: Waking up feels like an ordeal. His eyes are heavy, arms a dead weight, he isn’t sure if his limbs are even in the right places, but eventually, Sander comes to. (a.k.a a take on how Sander fairs after Robbe left for school.)

Sander’s POV after Dinsdag 7:27. It’s a great insight into his headspace during that time. This could be a scene in the show because it fits so well.

you’re wonder under summer sky by nothingbutniall | M

Summary: Two city boys go camping. What could go wrong? (Everything, apparently.)

Those boys are a chaotic mess okay? They’re such dorks. This fic has the best kind of grumpiness there is and sobbe is written so in character here.

if we can make it through december (maybe we’ll make it through forever) by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Robbe and Sander at the Christmas market.

Can you imagine those two dorks at the Christmas market? Well you don’t have to anymore because this fic is everything you need and more. And this line “Couldn’t,” Sander sulks. “You can’t hold hands properly with mittens on.” makes me go all gooey inside every.single.time 😍

A New Sunday Feeling by Foxsake5 | M

Summary:  Sander before Robbe: Ugh, Sundays 😒 Sander after Robbe: 😏🥺🥰

The way this author writes sobbe’s intimate moments is just pure talent. They have such way with words.

memories painted with much brighter ink by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Saint Nicholas is the perfect excuse for an evening of gifts and banter with the flatshare. (Basically all five of them being cute together, and then Robbe and Sander being cute with just the two of them.)

This is the perfect fic for an October evening, when Christmas is just around the corner and you’ve just made yourself a cup of coffee and want to read some heart-warming well-written christmassy fluff. 

5k - 10k

Let’s Dance by msleviss (@sander-driesen) | G

Summary: Robbe and his friends go to a club to check out Amber’s DJ cousin.

THIS PERSON PREDICTED DJ SANDER Y’ALL. And Robbe thirsts over him. And there is an instant connection. And Robbe dances. And it’s so cute.

video phone by tokyometropolis (@luludemauryyy) | E

Summary: AKA OH MY GOD, THEY WERE QUARANTINED…except not together, because life is cruel. Thankfully it’s 2020 and when Robbe has an…er…intense dream about Sander in the middle of the night, all he has to do is press one button and Facetime him about it. Thing is…sometimes FaceTiming isn’t enough.

Look. I get that smut fics are not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s totally fine. But. If you’re looking for a well-written smut that’s in character and where you can feel the love between the characters, this is it. Hands down. Sorry not sorry 💁🏼‍♀️

10k - 20k

our camp of dreams by robbesanderx (@robbesdriesen) | M

Summary: a summer camp!AU where robbe and sander are both co-counselors

Misunderstandings lead to pining. Teenage angst at its finest. I really like camp stories, it’s my thing.

Falling For You by silver_etoile (@azozzoni) | T

Summary: Robbe only knows one thing about football: that Sander Dreisen is the hottest player on the FC Utrecht team. When Jens drags him to a match, the last thing Robbe expects is to meet someone so perfect, and it’s all he can do not to mess it up, but will he succeed?

Sobbe in a different setting with a bit different dynamic yet still having that special something. It’s a nicely written story of the development of their relationship, first meeting, falling in love, ups and down, all the best things in fics. And Sander as a soccer player is a pretty 🔥 concept (and I think Robbe agrees).

This isn’t our first time around by noobishere | E

Summary: One moment they are in the kitchen of their shared apartment, the next, they’re in this strange but familiar room.(a.k.a the au in which they accidentally go hopping through multiple universes)

The universe takes matters into their own hands and shows those silly boys that they are meant to be. Sign me up for the ride.

Coffee and Croques by peaceoutofthepieces (@peaceoutofthepieces) | G

Summary: Sander works at the on-campus coffee shop with Eliott, and he might just have a crush on the cute boy in the brown coat.

I’m a sucker for coffeshop fics. There is just something so good about them. This one is the coffeshop!AU that sobbe deserves. Oh the pining, and the secretive looks, the silly boys, and a pinch of Elu. Me likey ☕

The finest of the meadow by allforyoumylove | M

Summary: The universe brings two lonely boys together in a flowering meadow. They fall for each other fast and hard among delicate daisies, warm summer breezes, and shooting stars.

This is magical. My comment on the work was “So soft, so beautiful, so THEM, ugh.” and I MEANT that. This is just the right amount of sweetness. This is a must read. I’m not messing around. 

two side of the same coin series by MajorAccent (@acespaceacepilot) | E

Summary: the valleys and mountains of sander’s bpd

How the boys handle Sander’s ups and downs. Robbe being the best boyfriend ever. I love how good he is for Sander, being there for him, not treating him like a baby, and not controlling him. How much he tries to make it at least a little bit easier for him. If you don’t want to read explicit stories, at least give the first part a try since it’s not E rated. 

Zaterdag 9:58 by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: What happened after the croissants dropped to the floor 🥐🤭💕

I meant it when I said Foxsake5 has great way with words. Every single piece of theirs is just “chef’s kiss”. This fic is a definition of a domestic fic. Oh, and it happened. Totally. It’s my headcanon now.

its an unrequited love by eggsntoast | G

Summary: Sander works part-time at a museum every Sunday. Robbe is a frequent visitor.

A Sander POV fic. I was sold from the beginning. The development of their relationship here is so cute, and they’re being so stupid with their pining instead of just talking to each other and you just want to shake them but at the same time you’re rooting for them so hard. Oh and did I mention pining?

20k+

Jij Verliest series by ravenbrenna09 (@djsander) | M

Summary: For the past three months, Robbe’s life—and what it once was—had been stripped away and rearranged. Now, if anything, his life had become a bit repetitive: homework, stream, ignore Thomas’s Instagram, repeat. But one Friday evening, Robbe meets a hurricane in the form of a platinum-haired tattoo artist who just might show him everything that he’s been missing.

This is a long series okay? But oh so worth it. It’s captivating and you don’t want to stop until you finish. And once you finish you’re sad it’s over even though you’ve just spent 8 fucking hours reading it. It’s amazing. But you probably know that because it’s quite popular (rightfully so). The best thing is that you expect it to go bad halfway through because it’s difficult to keep the quality on the same level in a fic that long. But it doesn’t.

Visitations by lucidpantone (@lucidpantone) | E

Summary: Does Robbe and Sander’s relationship survive into adulthood. This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.The present occurs in one entire day. Both timelines are completely out of chronological order. Everything is in clips.You can be dropped in at anytime of the day in any timeline. So clip by clip you will need to piece together what happen to Sander & Robbe and why the present looks the way it does and what happened in the past that got them there.This love story is a journey. So be prepared.In the words of one of our Even’s. It’s a complicated love story between complicated people.

This is not a regular fic. The author put so much thought into it, there are so many gems, so many little things that you have to pay attention to because it.all.matters. And there is not one interpretation. Don’t you just love when a story forces you to think and use your brain? Cause I do. Not gonna lie: this story hurts, and like the author says themselves, it’s a journey. But oh my god get in because it’s amazing. And the ending is just sjsjsjsjsddhdhsdsgdsg 🤯

the night we met by themoongirl (@dearsander) | T

Summary: Robbe Ijzermans has a brain that won’t let him sleep, a chest that feels far too heavy and thoughts that never stop.During his first year of college he meets Sander Driesen. Robbe finds what he never went looking for.

A college AU. This fic is a journey of pain and fluff and humor. It has awesome friendships. And sobbe falling in love. And liminal spaces. I read it a while ago so I don’t remember it as well as the others but you know what? I still remember that it was great and I’m lowkey happy I don’t remember it that well because now I can go and read it again. 

The Stars Look Very Different by @peaceoutofthepieces 

Summary: Robbe is bored. He’s bored of listening to his friends talking about girls, and his other friends making out, and no one ever doing anything. He’s tired of having to put in all the work, of making his own fun. He’s tired of feeling nothing so he doesn’t have to feel like nothing. His party stunts are pushing the limit, his thrill seeking beginning to worry even his friends, and his carelessness is toeing the line of dangerous.

He’s a little tired of being ‘dangerous’, too.

Sander may or may not have a crush on the older boy with the apparent death wish. He wouldn’t mind a little danger.

Once I started reading this fic, each day I was waiting for an update at the edge of my seat which was a feeling I expected from s4 that did not deliver. TSLVD definitely delivered. My favorite sobbe social media AU

Ziggy Stardust Series by skamsnake (@skamsnake) | M/E

A collection of fics taking place throughout the season. Most of them are E rated so be aware of that but it’s a really cool mixture of fluff and spice *fans myself*

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1

- Chapter 2 -

It turned out that the party had been a meeting of important cultivators, sect leaders, and that meant, of course, that his father had been there.

His father. No wonder his mother had been so excited!

And even knowing that nothing had come of it, that his mother had returned empty-handed, despite himself, when he heard it, Meng Yao was excited, too, feeling a frisson of hope run down his spine. He regretted, now, that he hadn’t been able to go to the party as a server, thinking of the might-have-beens if he’d gone, if he’d done something to impress the man, if his father had finally decided to take them away from this place –

“He was too drunk to recognize me,” his mother said, sad and eyes distant. “And some of the younger girls had gotten to him first…I couldn’t catch his eye, and in the end they sent me away with one of the other sect leaders.”

As a joke, she didn’t say, an old whore with a man too drunk to tell the difference, but Meng Yao wouldn’t guess at that truth, the source of so much bitterness, until much later.

“Not Wen Ruohan, right?” Meng Yao asked, and breathed a sigh of relief when she shook her head.

“You shouldn’t refer to your elders by name, A-Yao,” she reminded him, always trying to teach him etiquette – though now that he thought about it, Nie Mingjue had used the man’s name directly, too. Maybe it was his way of trying to make the man seem less scary. “It would be ‘Sect Leader Wen’…and how do you know any of the sect leader’s names, anyway?”

“A cultivator came here last night,” Meng Yao explained. “He gave me a qiankun pouch, and some money –”

“In return for what?” His mother’s voice was sharp. “A-Yao, I told you, you’re not allowed to make deals with people –”

Meng Yao’s shoulders went up by his ears. He knew what she really meant, that he wasn’t allowed to sell himself or his body because it’d give him a bad reputation in the future; he wasn’t allowed even if it meant the difference between a hungry night and a full one, a freezing one and a warm one.

“I didn’t do that,” he muttered. “I just –”

“There’s no just. No deals at all, A-Yao; if you get into the habit of seeing everything as something you can buy or sell, then it’s only a matter of time before someone buys you.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Meng Yao protested. “He gave me a pouch, and he said –”

It was the wrong thing to say, especially after a disappointment like last night, and his mother started scolding him fiercely, alternating with tears, and in the end he decided it was better to say nothing.

Nie Mingjue would come back with the manual, the way he’d come back with the money, or else he wouldn’t, and either way there was nothing Meng Yao could do about it.

And anyway, after a few months, he realized he had bigger problems.

It started pretty unnoticeably: a tightness in his mother’s face, an unusual refusal to take on clients for the more lucrative type of engagements, spending more on food than usual…at first Meng Yao thought that it was only that she was happy to have money again, even if it spilled through their fingers like sand on getting her new clothing and better make-up, larger shoes for Meng Yao and a warm coat, only slightly torn from previous use.

He’d been worried, although not unduly so, when she’d started being sick sometimes – she’d claimed it was food poisoning, and they had been eating more meat than usual, so maybe…

Foolish.

One of the other ladies called it out one day in mockery, not a single doubt in her voice, and his mother didn’t deny it. Meng Yao’s stomach dropped, his heart frozen in terror.

Pregnant.

Again.

And she hadn’t taken any steps to get rid of it, the way she should have – whores had their ways, even if they weren’t perfect, and his mother knew enough of them. He knew that she would have been acting very differently if she intended to abort, would have been less cautious, less resistant, less –

She’d bedded a sect leader at that party, he remembered, doing the miserable math on his fingers. Not his father again, no, she wouldn’t make that mistake twice - would she? She’d gone there to see him, after all.

No, in the end, she was still counting on Meng Yao to earn his way into his father’s graces on his own, for the sake of both of them. But she had gone to bed with another one, and if it had taken…

Meng Yao knew his mother loved him, but for the first time in his life, he feared losing that love.

He tried to keep his fears to himself, tried not to burden her, but in the end he was a child and not yet good enough at hiding his expressions; she spotted him soon enough, took him into her arms and coaxed his fears from him.

“You silly goose, A-Yao. Don’t you know it’s for you?” she whispered in his ear, putting his hand on her belly. “I’m too old and sick to have a strong child, all the doctors said so; even if this one is born, he’ll be weak and sickly, likely to be swept away by the first chill of winter. I don’t need that sect leader to support me – we know already that they won’t do that. I just need him to feel guilty enough to take you with him back to his sect as recompense for having burdened me with a child that was lost.”

Meng Yao felt a touch of ice run down his spine. “But...what if the child lives through the winter?”

“There are many ways for a child to die,” his mother said, and her voice was calm and gentle, a pool undisturbed by the ripples beneath, just the way she’d always taught him. “Only some of them are winter.”

Meng Yao knew his mother loved him, but for the first time in his life, he feared what that love might mean.

His mother had grown cunning since his birth and more cynical since his father’s most recent rejection. She decided not to write to the sect leader with the news at once – that would be risking a rejection, a dismissal, an accusation that the child could be someone else’s son, or worst of all a blow to make her miscarry. She planned instead to wait until the child was almost here and only then she would summon him, knowing he would come to check just in case it was true. It was said that cultivators had a means of testing birthright, the way regular people didn’t, and that they were very cautious about such things.

That way, when the child died at birth or immediately thereafter, there would still be enough time for the sect leader to feel guilt and to be coaxed into taking Meng Yao in as a disciple, and once Meng Yao had learned the basics of cultivation, he could make his way to his father’s place to prove to him that he was worth taking in, that it was time to make good on all the old promises he’d made.

It was a good plan, if a cold one.

It would have worked, too, if Meng Yao hadn’t blundered his way into something better.

Perhaps that was giving him too much credit: he wasn’t the one who did the blundering. That was all Nie Mingjue, who six months after he’d made a crazy promise to return had actually gone and done it.

“You live in Qinghe,” Meng Yao said accusingly instead of greeting him, because he’d gone to listen to the gossips talk until he’d managed to figure out where the cultivation sect surnamed ‘Nie’ resided. “That’s not even in this part of the country; how can you be back so soon?”

“I promised you I would, didn’t I? I keep my word,” Nie Mingjue said with a smile, as if it was that easy – as if a child could make decisions like that, ones that involved crossing mountains and rivers and going deep into another sect’s territory, when Meng Yao couldn’t even walk too far down the street without the brothel owners cursing him out as a would-be runaway. “Don’t worry about it. The Jiang sect doesn’t really pay attention as a general rule, and even if they did their current leader’s too busy with his angry wife to care about who’s traveling through his domain.”

Meng Yao rolled his eyes - he’d heard that gossip, too. But he didn’t care, that wasn’t what mattered; there were more important things to focus on. “Did you bring it?”

Nie Mingjue produced a manual out of his sleeve. The quality of the paper was far better than any of the ones Meng Yao’s mother had bought for him, and he knew at once by looking at it that this was no fake. He tried to grab at it with both hands, but Nie Mingjue pulled it back.

“Cultivation is dangerous,” he warned. “You need a guide, at least at first, to make sure you don’t make any mistakes – it’s easy to make mistakes, especially at the beginning, and that can lay the groundwork for a qi deviation in the future. I’ll let you read it, but you have to promise that you’ll only practice with me for the first week or so, okay?”

“You’re staying a week?”

Nie Mingjue’s cheeks flushed red. “Uh, well – I was planning on two, if you don’t mind…”

“Of course I don’t mind! You can stay with me in my attic.”

“I brought enough money for a room at an inn –”

“We can use the extra to buy more meat,” Meng Yao told him, already pushing and shoving him, and Nie Mingjue was easily convinced.

He was easily convinced to follow him back to the brothel, too, which was a little frustrating: how could anyone be that naïve? If Meng Yao had wanted to sell Nie Mingjue, he probably could do it, cultivator or no; there were a hundred things to fear in a brothel, hidden in the tea or the incense or the smiles of seemingly friendly strangers.

Nie Mingjue was lucky that Meng Yao had longer-term goals in mind for him.

They passed the day quite pleasantly, eating meat skewers and dragon’s beard candy and discussing the basics of cultivation – Meng Yao read the book (his book!) and asked questions, and Nie Mingjue did his best to answer them – and then in the latter part of the afternoon the women at the brothel roused themselves, coming out to prepare for their nightly work, his mother included.

She was fairly heavily pregnant now, but there were men who liked that sort of thing, as long as there was something she could do for them, and the brothel owners wouldn’t waste their money by kicking her out no matter how annoyed they were at her for keeping the child. She wasn’t allowed to roam too far out of her room, being as she was a specialized service that might frighten regular customers, and so it wasn’t until she came to find Meng Yao to make sure he was all right that Nie Mingjue saw her for the first time.

“This is my mother,” Meng Yao said, his back stiff with expected insults even though Nie Mingjue hadn’t said a single word about Meng Yao living in a brothel so far.

Nie Mingjue stared at her with eyes so big and round and surprised that Meng Yao irritably wondered if he’d never seen a whore before, or perhaps it was the idea that one might be stupid enough to get pregnant and keep it. Maybe he would save his insults for that, instead, and Meng Yao would be forced to try to break his handsome face…

“You’re the lady they sent to my father’s room,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice faint and shaking with shock. “You’re – is that my brother?”

It turned out that the Nie sect, unlike the Jin sect, cared a great deal for matters of blood and children born of it; Nie Mingjue didn’t even demand a test or anything before he’d insisted that they come back to Qinghe with him, both of them, absolutely certain that his father would be overjoyed by the news.

Meng Yao and his mother exchanged looks, each of them skeptical and cynical to the core, and tried to convince him to slow down a little. To write a letter, perhaps –

“No! You have to come right away,” Nie Mingjue insisted, his cheeks pink with excitement. “We have doctors to care for you, and, oh, he’ll need a saber, someone will need to start on that right away – and anyway, a Nie should be born in Qinghe.”

“There’s still some months left to go,” Meng Shi said, though Meng Yao could see that she was a little amused by Nie Mingjue’s earnest enthusiasm. “Tell your father to come here and take me away, if you’re sure he’ll care so much.”

“I am sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “He’s just busy at the borders again, with Qishan Wen causing trouble all over; who knows how long it’d take for him to get word? Why do we have to wait for him to come in person anyway?”

“Because we can’t leave,” Meng Yao said, finally condescending to point out the obvious. “Mother belongs to the brothel, and we haven’t saved up enough to buy her freedom.”

Even an old whore was an expensive proposition, especially if she knew skills like singing and dancing and playing instruments the way Meng Shi did – and one with a burden like Meng Yao could be exploited to do all sorts of things that a normal woman might refuse. It would be costly to redeem her, more costly than anything a young sect heir might have expected to buy.

Meng Yao had expected that to be the end of it, but he’d apparently underestimated Nie Mingjue’s stubbornness: he went to the market and sold every last piece of metal he had on him, right down to the silver crown off his head, and was about to go try to barter away his clothing or sell his strength to a dockworker when Meng Yao shoved the money he’d so carefully saved up into his hands.

“With this it might be enough,” he said, biting his lip with guilt as his mother gaped at the glittering gold in his hand – he hadn’t dared tell her about it, about the fact that he’d been saving up again. She’d told him before that there was no point in buying her freedom, that she had no other skills to sell and a bad reputation to boot; they would live free for a single summer only to have to sell her back again in the winter, and the brothel owners wouldn’t be pleased at all by that.

“It will be,” Nie Mingjue said. “Even if I have to buy the rest on credit, it will be!”

“At least be clever about this,” Meng Shi sighed, giving in even though she clearly didn’t think it was a good idea. Meng Yao supposed she figured that if it came down to it, there were brothels in Qinghe, too, and at least she’d be something new there with her soft Yunping accent and manners. “If they think you’re desperate, they’ll raise the price – you should be more arrogant. Act as if you were doing them a favor by taking me off their hands.”

Nie Mingjue’s nose wrinkled.  

“Pretend they’re surnamed Wen,” Meng Yao suggested, and that did the trick: Nie Mingjue’s lip curled at once, vicious and angry (and a little scared, but only deep down where most people wouldn’t see it easily). He marched right inside the brothel and demanded they sell Meng Shi to him, flaunting himself as the son of what he called a Great Sect.

It might not have worked except that he made such a fuss that people started to gather, including a passing cultivator and his wife – a much more respectable-looking pair than gawky too-tall-for-his-age Nie Mingjue with his hair now bound only by a ribbon, with a horsetail whip in the hands of the woman and swords on both of them – and the man’s eyebrows had gone up as high as his forehead. “Nie-gongzi,” he called, and even saluted properly and everything. “What are you doing so far from home?”

“Trying to complete a transaction,” Nie Mingjue growled, glaring at the brothel owner even as he saluted back. “I think he doesn’t think I’m good for it.”

The female cultivator snorted, shifting the baby she carried on her back from one side to the other. “That’s brave of him. Doesn’t your Nie sect like to break things that disagree with you and pay for the damages later?”

“He’s too young for that,” her husband told her. “Look, he’s not even carrying his saber yet.”

“I wasn’t talking about him,” she said. “I was talking about the retainers his father almost certainly sent to track him down – didn’t you say you saw some very angry-looking cultivators entering town not long ago? They looked fit to slaughter.”

Nie Mingjue blanched, suggesting that he hadn’t expected company quite this early – or perhaps hoping that he could hide away from them – but the cultivators’ words had made the brothel owner quite contemplative. He finally agreed to sell him Meng Shi’s contract for all the money Nie Mingjue had and a letter of promise for that amount a second time over, an outrageous price even after they’d used all of Meng Shi’s tricks on him, but Nie Mingjue had agreed to it in a heartbeat.

“Won’t your father be angry at your spending?” Meng Yao asked, wondering. It was so much money.

“I’ll make it up to him,” Nie Mingjue said dismissively. “As soon as I get my saber and start night-hunting, money flows free and easy. It’s hard to explain, but you’ll see what it’s like once you get there.”

Meng Yao blinked. “What?”

“Aren’t you going to be a cultivator?” Nie Mingjue asked, blinking at him. “You’ll be part of my Nie sect, of course, so the same rules that apply to me will apply to you.”

“No,” Meng Yao explained. “I’m going to be part of –”

His mother pressed down on his shoulder. “You’d be willing to accept A-Yao into your sect?” she asked, her gaze sharp and penetrating.

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue said, sounding puzzled. “I was willing to do it before, just for helping me out, and now, well – he’s the brother of my brother, isn’t he? That makes him all but family directly, especially if you marry in as a concubine.”

They both gaped at him.

“…do you not want to?” Nie Mingjue – hapless idiot, fulfiller of dreams – asked, actually sounding worried. “I just assumed you would, to make sure the child isn’t born a bastard…”

“I wouldn’t object,” Meng Shi said, her voice full of rich irony that only Meng Yao understood. “But I think your father might.”

“You don’t know my father,” Nie Mingjue said simply. As if it was simple, as if people were like that. “He’ll do the right thing.”

[22drunkb]

Please tell me about the Tim Curry phenomenon?

Hoist on my own petard! Okay.

So just in case what I said was unclear, when I said “Tim Curry as a phenomenon” I didn’t mean that there was some Thing That Happened, like [rummages in ancient tumblr lore] mishapocalypse or something. I just mean what Tim Curry has come to signify in popular culture for certain kinds and generations of people. I would not consider myself a Tim Curry expert, I don’t know a ton about his life and filmography, but I do experience him as that kind of icon or signifier, so all I’m going to be talking about is that (and for this reason I have determined I am not going to look anything up). (@tafadhali​ I’m going to need to you let me know how I did when this is all over.) So:

Tim Curry is an actor. He is probably best known for The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Clue, Muppet Treasure Island, Home Alone 2, the 90s miniseries of It, and maybe now that one clip of him that circulates online from time to time where he’s yelling about going to space and trying not to laugh. The key facts are:

Tim Curry has incredible presence and charisma. He is not an actor who “disappears into the role.” He is a very skilled performer--it’s not like he plays the same thing in every role, and if somebody else could do what he does, many more people would be doing it--but he’s the kind of actor who gets used as a shorthand to describe characters, or other actors. “A Tim Curry type.” He works in Muppet Treasure Island because he’s in no way naturalistic, and so he can play off puppets no problem. We could comparatively describe this as The Jack Black Factor.

Tim Curry has a very distinctive voice (speaking and singing) and way of delivering lines, such that his accent comes off as almost put-on or parodic without ever quite going over the top. (This is true when he’s actually putting on an accent and when he’s not.) His delivery has unusual emphases that make the lines stick with you. These qualities are equally suited to comedy and creepiness, and he reasonably often does both at the same time. So he easily becomes a kind of factory for references, a meme factory before we called things memes. We could comparatively describe this as The Christopher Walken Factor.

Tim Curry has been in a lot of movies. These movies’ quality ranges from “hilariously bad” to “not good by mainstream standards, but objectively incredible at being the kind of movie it is” to “beloved hit, but nobody would call it High Cinema.” (If Tim Curry has also been in prestige films recognized as such,* I do not disrespect them or him, but I don’t know about it! And that’s part of the Tim Curry phenomenon!) I have not come up with a comparison for this--it’s less a distinctive thing than something that becomes important in combination with the first two.

Tim Curry always does an incredible job in these movies, whatever their quality. And he always seems to be having a great time doing it. One of the top YouTube comments on that clip I linked reads, “A reviewer once said about Tim Curry: ‘For every 1-star movie he's been in, he's the reason that movie got that star.’” He delivers a specific feeling of intense talent being directed, with great pleasure, to a purpose that is, on some level, inexplicable. (No one else would say this line this way! Why is he doing that! Because he’s Tim Curry, and that’s good enough, dammit!) This creates a sensation that somehow combines “admiration” and “this is hilarious,” but in a different way than you might admire a great stand-up set. It’s on purpose without feeling deliberate. It’s cheese being executed at the level of high art. It’s ridiculous and it’s fantastic. IT’S CAMP, BABY. Put that together with the ability to walk a knife-edge between hilarious clown and scary villain (he played Pennywise, hello), in the context of what the film industry outside of Very Special Episode morality tales has been for most of his career, and you have a recipe for a queer culture icon. I give you Frank-N-Furter.

So Tim Curry at this point means a certain quality or texture of zaniness--but one that’s not maniacal or exactly cartoonish, just like, orthogonal to what’s expected or normal. You get Tim Curry for a role when you want things to feel a little too much but in the best way; when you want to sit right on the line between “this character is out of sync with reality” and “telling the audience this is a heightened reality.” This is assuming you’re a good filmmaker who knows what you’re doing. He is the best thing in some bad movies because he reliably creates this delightful sensation even when the movie doesn’t have a clear purpose for it; he can make objectively bad material fun to watch because the things that made the writing dumb or the costuming bad are campy and fun in his hands. This is kind of what I meant by an inexplicable purpose: it doesn’t need to make sense to work. This is also what I mean about being on the line between “is the character acting nuts or is this the kind of world the movie is setting up”--when it’s not what the movie is trying to do, but the movie is failing at what it is trying to do, Tim Curry suddenly makes that fun to watch because whatever he’s doing is both of quality and basically ineffable.

So this is why we live in a world where, say, Justin McElroy can build a whole bit on MBMaM around just repeatedly spitting out the words “CHEESE! PIZZA!” in a Tim Curry voice, or Tim Curry appears on The Simpsons. At this point Tim Curry is not just a man or an actor, he’s a mood. And because that mood is hard to describe, we mostly only invoke it by referring to him. But it’s a wonderful thing that has a lot of room in it to be enjoyed in different ways, whether it’s about queerness or comedy or surrealism or performance craft that isn’t smothered by the uptight standards of “naturalism” or “realism” or “subtlety.” And Clue is one of the best venues for it because it is a good movie made by people who did know what they were doing, and what they were doing was aimed exactly at creating the Tim Curry Experience: it’s clever and artful at being campy and cheesy, and its darkness and funniness are wrapped together in so many layers you can’t separate them.

BONUS:

Evidence of Tim Curry’s skill as a performer: look at him Not Being Tim Curry on SNL here with Eddie Murphy, maybe the one time I can think of that he’s in the “straight man” role. (An FYI more than a warning: The sketch is poking at racism--I think it holds up really well, but it’s deliberately pushing ~the line.)

__________________________________ *I know a lot of Film People etc. now consider Clue a genuine genius classic--for good reason! it’s incredible!--but it wasn’t received that way, and to the extent that it has gained this recognition it’s by that rubric of “succeeds at what it’s trying to do, which is more important than whether what it’s trying to do is be Citizen Kane Paddington 2.”

[codedredalert]

Provocation [Golden Kamuy, Tsuki/Ogata] -- part 1/2

Tsuki/Ogata || could-be-canon pre-series || 3,254 words

Second Private Ogata is nothing but trouble, and no end to infuriating. Tsukishima is determined to treat him fairly nonetheless.

(GK fanworks exchange prompt 27: Ogata dealing with the "wildcat" jokes and consequential reputation in the army, Tsukishima somehow protecting him.)

Warnings: canon-typical violence

(On Ao3) (part 2 on tumblr)

===/\==

.

Tsukishima isn't meant to hear it, but he does. He pulls two men aside to warn them for being late, and as he is walking away, he hears one mutter, "that shitty wildcat, this is his fault".

"Wildcat?" Tsukishima asks, because predatory animals near the camp are a significant concern.

"It's nothing, sir," Second Private Nikaido (he's not sure which one) responds after a moment too long and a shared look with his brother. In hindsight, that look is why Tsukishima remembers.

.

.

He doesn't think much of it until he walks into the main tent just as a fight nearly breaks out. There's shouting that abruptly cuts off as the men catch sight of him and turn to salute instead of throwing punches. Still, the tension in the air is palpable, and almost everyone is throwing dirty sideways glances at one man in particular. He's not new, but somehow, Tsukishima has yet to speak with him. His face was both familiar and less familiar than it should be, with big, dark eyes and eyebrows that turn down at both ends. He's built on the smaller side, though still taller than Tsukishima himself.

Tsukishima sighs and gestures for the men to stand at ease.

"There will be no punishment, but I need to know what happened here," he says. Most of them bow slightly in acknowledgement, though the newer men look apprehensive. No one volunteers, of course, so Tsukishima is forced to single someone out. "The Second Private in the sheepskin vest, what's your name?"

The big, honest-looking man, one of the new reserves, steps forward.

"Tanigaki Genjirou, sir."

"Second Private Tanigaki." Tsukishima nods. "What happened here?"

"I'm afraid I was not following the conversation, sir. I can only say that it appears that Second Private Ogata and Superior Private Tamai have had some disagreement."

Tsukishima turns to Superior Private Tamai expectantly.

"Second Private Ogata is just being his usual offensive self, sir. His words are not worth repeating."

"Ahh," interrupts the man with the big, dark eyes. His voice is soft with a slight rasp, almost like a purring cat. "The Superior Private and Second Private Tanigaki are giving me too much credit. I only said that having more snipers might give us more tactical options, and it's a pity that no one else in our unit is suitable. Superior Private Tamai took that as a criticism of his leadership or marksman abilities."

A collective rustle of discontent goes through the men, but no one says anything further and Tsukishima dismisses them. Then all at once, noise and movement return and it seems the men can't contain themselves anymore, speaking in agitated whispers.

"He really is a wildcat, did you hear him?"

"What a liar!"

"Shhh, the Sergeant can hear you."

"Forget the Sergeant, that bastard Ogata might hear you."

… so that's what they meant. Tsukishima thought of one particular cat back in the fishing village he once called home. A cat with a hanging belly that belonged to no-one, meowing pitifully to beg for food. Tsukishima had fed it until one fisherman had laughed at him, and told him "that cat isn't pregnant— he's just fat, and a good fraud."

He finds himself staring, and Second Private Ogata looks up and smiles.

.

.

He soon learns that there's more to it than that.

The nickname catches on with unusual speed and enthusiasm. Outside of formal channels, Second Private Ogata is almost universally referred to as "wildcat Ogata", "that wildcat", or a mix of expletives. It's compromising the order and morale of the men. Tsukishima has more pressing things to think about, but there are enough rumours that it earns its place as an item on his mental checklist of problems to deal with.

One night, when intelligence indicates that an attack by the Russians is unlikely, an air of cautious optimism pervades the camp, and men and officers alike take full advantage of the respite.

"Sergeant Tsukishima, you're slow to the party!" Someone calls to him from a group seated around a fire. "Come drink with us, Second Lieutenant Hanazawa just donated his share of sake."

Tsukishima takes his seat with them, more than readily takes the sake passed to him—he's long learned not to refuse anything that might ease the weight and reality of war— and joins them in raising a toast.

"To Yuusaku-san! May you have a long life, so your generosity can continue to bless us!"

"Empty the glasses!" someone roars amongst the cheers and uproarious laughter. "Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Tsukishima echoes, raising his drink and nodding to Second Lieutenant Hanazawa. The handsome young officer laughs along with everyone, waving away the thanks modestly. That just gets him another round of cheers, and even some pats on the back.

"Yuusaku-san, you're really amazing! Brave and generous and virtuous. Your father, the Lieutenant General's blood really shows!"

A chorus of approval and agreement, indistinct. The atmosphere of relative safety and normalcy, the comfortable warmth of the fire, his accumulated fatigue, and the sake all softened the noise and going-ons around him until Tsukishima heard someone say: "Eh, no, no, that can't be right, otherwise that wildcat would also have some good qualities instead of fucking around all the time."

And then the conversation suddenly related to A Problem, and Tsukishima was too dutiful to ignore it. Holding back a sigh, he dredged up some willpower to pay attention.

"You're right, it must come from his mother's side. Or Yuusaku-san must have taken all the good parts from the Lieutenant General."

"It's true, how are they even related?"

"Simple! The child of a wildcat... must also be a wildcat!" The man who says this pronounces it with a dramatic sweep of his arm and a great deal of pride at his own cleverness, the others burst out in drunken laughter, all except Tsukishima and Second Lieutenant Hanazawa. This doesn't pass unnoticed. Not wanting to exclude their benefactor, Lance Corporal Takahashi slings his arm around the Second Lieutenant, and with all the social acumen of an injured bear, he helpfully explains.

"Ah, of course our dear flagbearer wouldn't know! Wildcat here means geisha, especially of the sort that… is willing to take some extra appointments, if you catch my meaning."

He leers so lecherously that his meaning is completely unmistakable. Second Lieutenant Hanazawa blushes, and then very rapidly goes pale. He looks like he wants to say something, but the flag-bearer's duty to camaraderie and harmony of the troops shackles him.

The same did not apply to Tsukishima.

"It does you no credit to speak ill of your fellow soldiers or their heritage," he says sharply, "—or to imply ill of your Lieutenant General."

Tsukishima speaks like the sergeant he is, so his voice carries, even if he's not trying to be particularly loud. Most of the noise in the group dies instantly, and the people at the fringes quickly quieten as well as the ones near them nudge them to lower their voices.

The Lance Corporal who was speaking does a double take, swaying slightly, drunk but not drunk enough to miss the sudden uncomfortable hush and Tsukishima's obvious disapproval.

"Ahh Sergeant, it was only a joke, a joke."

"A poor joke in bad taste," replies Tsukishima and the person's smile becomes visibly more strained, but Tsukishima doesn't care about popularity, he's a dead man returned to life by a man who outranks everyone present. Even if he were shot tomorrow, it was all borrowed time anyway, as far as he was concerned. The funny characteristic about people when they've already made their peace with death was that they cared very little about what the living think of them.

"—but—" Lance Corporal Takahashi starts to argue.

"It is also an insult to the Second Lieutenant, which is a poor way to repay him for his generosity," Tsukishima adds and as expected, that is what makes the Lance Corporal stop, glancing to the side where the Second Lieutenant is smiling uncomfortably.

"And in any case," Tsukishima continues, "it hardly matters when we're all here fighting and dying in the same war for the same country."

The mood instantly sobers, the temporary illusion of warmth and normalcy dropping away, the weight of the war they were on the front lines of returning tenfold

Tsukishima is suddenly more tired than when he first joined the group. So much for having a bit of respite this evening. He should have gone straight to the baths and stayed there.

"I've said everything I have to say and I'll stand by it, with all the authority I have. But it's late now. Excuse me, I'll take my leave." He turns to the Second Lieutenant, gives a shallow bow, probably more shallow than is polite but his body is too heavy for him to care overly much. "Thank you for the sake, sir."

He leaves. Behind him, he hears Second Lieutenant Hanazawa softly taking his leave from the table of now subdued officers. Footsteps follow him, and the young officer's voice calls out, "Wait!"

Tsukishima stops and turns, and Second Lieutenant Hanazawa jogs to meet him.

"It is good to see that the high praise I have heard about Sergeant Tsukishima is well-founded. Thank you for your defense of my elder brother."

"Second Lieutenant Hanazawa, you're being far too kind. Anything I said was merely for satisfaction of my own principles."

Tsukishima wants to turn and leave, but the Second Lieutenant looks like he has more to say, and the mix of decorum, rank, and actually not disliking the young man keeps Tsukishima standing there.

"I thought they might treat him better if they knew we were related," confesses Hanazawa, "but that provoked people's curiosity. In the end, I seem to have made more trouble for my elder brother."

From the little Tsukishima is aware of, he rather thinks that Second Private Ogata makes most of the trouble himself— there couldn't be that much smoke without even a spark of fire— but as with most situations where he doesn't know enough, he keeps his mouth shut.

Suddenly realising that he was keeping Tsukishima standing in the cold for a personal conversation, Second Lieutenant Hanazawa startles.

"I've said too much." Second Lieutenant Hanazawa bows again. "I beg for your discretion with this information."

"Of course, sir," Tsukishima replies. When Second Lieutenant Hanazawa smiles widely in relief, Tsukishima doesn't have the heart to tell him that he is just closing the doors after the horse has bolted.

.

.

That conversation haunts him, annoyingly mundane amongst the greater horrors he has to deal with. It invokes memories of his home being mocked as unclean, a murderer's dwelling-place, and the murder of a kind girl for no reason other than the appearance she was born with and the misfortune of his affection. Tsukishima takes the old nightmares in stride, as he takes everything, but every time he sees the cloaked figure of Second Private Ogata huddling near a fire or brazier, the thought returns to him, an incomplete task.

It doesn't sit well with him.

The gods give him his chance a few days later, when Second Private Ogata walks by and gives him the mandatory salute. Again, Tsukishima is struck by his big dark eyes, true black catching a small gleam of light, intelligent and strange. If all-seeing eyes existed, they must be like his. Ogata glances over Tsukishima, but his eyes don't settle, don't even linger, like he's seen all there is to see and has already dismissed it with a flick of dark eyelashes, already looking for something else.

He is a sniper. Tsukishima had looked at his records. An unnaturally good one too. It made a man wonder what those eyes could see.

"Second Private Ogata."

"Sir."

"It has come to my attention that these 'wildcat' references are an insult to your private matters and parentage. I don't stand such things. If they bring up that distasteful joke again, let me know."

A blink from those big dark eyes.

"I can deal with it," Second Private Ogata starts to say, but Tsukishima cuts him off before he can go on to make the obligatory polite refusals. He's in no mood for the song and dance of social niceties. The memory of dark hair in unusual curls and a murderer called father are too close to his thoughts today.

"This is a matter of principle. Insulting a person for their heritage has no place in this regiment." Tsukishima surprises himself with how forcefully the words come out, though that is probably not noticeable to someone who does not know him well.

"If it's not about me, then I wonder why the sergeant decided to talk to me?" Ogata's tone, normally flat with disinterest, curled ever so slightly with curiosity now. "Just make an order or punishment, as you please. Sir."

He makes a point, and somehow Tsukishima does not like the question. Still, he answers.

"An order might confirm the information and disservice you and Second Lieutenant Hanazawa more. But if that's what it takes, I will make the order and enforce it with my own two hands if I must."

Something changes. Ogata's eyes feel like they finally focus on him, even with the strange sensation that they are too big and taking everything at once, at least now that includes him. Ogata comes to some decision, lifting his chin.

"I can deal with it, sir. No need to trouble yourself."

His eyes are unreadable.

.

.

The atmosphere in the regiment becomes more vicious. As Tsukishima investigates, small misfortunes start making sense.

Superior Private Tamai's rifle sight rusts on a perfectly dry night. Second Private Tanigaki's uniform buttons go missing. Lance Corporal Takahashi's trigger finger is shot off.

No one knows for certain that it's Second Private Ogata, but everyone knows.

.

.

"You wanted to speak to me, sir?"

Ogata reports as he is required to, but from his carefully blank expression, it's clear he doesn't intend to cooperate. Tsukishima looks up from where he is writing a report and puts down his pen, sits back, more upright.

"I was under the impression we had an understanding," he says grimly, "that you'd come to me regarding those insults if necessary."

"It was not necessary," replied Ogata, just this side of insubordinate, and with a very neutral expression he goes on to say, "But I appreciate the Sergeant's special attention."

"Then it would befit Second Private Ogata to show his appreciation via his conduct."

"What conduct do you suggest?" he asks blithely with an innocently straight face and his too-big eyes and his purring voice. He's far too aware for that ignorance to be genuine.

How irritating.

"Report to me instead of acting on your own," Tsukishima says forcefully. "Or if you don't wish to bring the matter to me, you are free to go to the Second Lieutenant if you prefer. He is more than willing to help you." That gets the first involuntary reaction he sees from Ogata, a definitive rise in his shoulders, a slight lean away from Tsukishima, as if he could physically avoid the suggestion.

"If I don't go to the Sergeant, how could I go to the Second Lieutenant?" asks Ogata, insulting while somehow still staying just this side of appropriate enough to avoid penalty. "As I said, I can deal with it. There's no need to trouble yourself, sir."

.

.

Three more men trade their trigger fingers for a ticket out of the regiment.

There is no evidence that it is Second Private Ogata.

There is no evidence that it is not Second Private Ogata.

.

.

This time, Tsukishima does not send a missive, he pulls Second Private Ogata aside himself.

"I told you to come to me," Tsukishima starts without preamble.

"I don't know what you mean," says Ogata with a straight face.

It takes everything in Tsukishima not to react visibly to that.

"Antagonising our own unit members is bad for morale," replies Tsukishima flatly. "And some actions are outright sabotage, or treason."

"Is Sergeant Tsukishima suggesting I would do such things?" Ogata has the gall to look surprised, and even slightly offended. Tsukishima doesn't buy it for a second.

"I am trying to be fair to you. Stop putting me in a position where I have to punish the people you provoke."

"Mmm, Sergeant Tsukishima has been very patient and generous, all for me." The words in themselves are perfectly polite, but something in the way he says it twists it to mockery. It stops all sound but the blood rushing in Tsukishima's ears.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tsukishima challenges. A spark lights in Ogata's eyes, and he tilts up his chin, looking down his nose at Tsukishima.

"Obviously the sergeant doesn't care that much about me. So the sergeant must be personally invested in this type of insult, right?"

The protest "I'm not" dies unsaid in Tsukishima's throat as patently untrue. He looks at Ogata, unable to find something to say in the varied mess of emotion struggling to resolve into something comprehensible. Disbelief, irritation, anger, sadness, profound regret, longing, something a little bit of all of these and yet none of them.

Ogata looks at him as Tsukishima's silent struggle grows, and at length, Ogata speaks.

"You already know how the unit talks about me," Ogata says. He is unbearably smug and insubordinate despite the formal address. "So this show of yours must be because you want to make sure they don't talk about you behind your back. Do you want to know what they say about you? Or is that too 'inappropriate'— it's true that I can take it better than you, just judging from your reaction."

Tsukishima's emotions resolve decidedly into fury, which he holds back for a moment before thinking — why not and swinging, landing a good hit right in the face. His fist crunches into Ogata's nose satisfyingly, makes contact with the hard socket and soft tissue of Ogata's eye. His knuckles sting slightly from the impact, tingling with the blood in his small capillaries, with the satisfaction of justified anger finding a deserving target.

Ogata's eyes have a victorious gleam of malicious amusement for a passing fraction of a second as Tsukishima swings, then he goes staggering into a tree.

"You really bring out the worst in people," Tsukishima mutters under his breath, not intending for Ogata to hear but Ogata's expression turns even more smug and even more infuriating. Tsukishima has met the worst of men, has the blood of one in his own veins even, but Ogata is something else— he thinks he's invincible and untouchable and the only real thing. He's vicious for sport and everything is a joke, even in the middle of a war. He wants to watch the world burn.

He's a liability.

With this realisation, Tsukishima knows what he must do. He looks down at Ogata where the man lays on the floor and doesn't even attempt to get up, and Tsukishima tells him, "Your attitude has become too big of an issue. I will have to bring your matter to my superior officer."

"A big issue," Ogata repeats slowly, smiling at the words as if Tsukishima had just cracked a joke instead of informing him that a disciplinary matter would be escalated. He sits up, and looks up to Tsukishima, blood dripping from his nose, the beginnings of a bruise already showing around his eye. It'll be swollen shut before tomorrow. "Please mention me favourably then, Sergeant Tsukishima."

.

===/end of part 1\===

(On Ao3) (part 2 on tumblr)  ( patreon ) ( kofi ) ( paypal )

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 11 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

11: Alternative Paths

The police officers told him they needed to ask him a few questions. What they forgot to mention was he would be locked in a small, remarkably bare room for five hours with a police officer who was dead set in viewing him as a suspect. Danny had never been more relieved to get out of a room before in his life. Yeah, he understood family members needed to be questioned due to the statistics surrounding such crimes, but seriously! Did someone as scrawny as him really look like he could have hurt Winston that badly without getting any sort of injury in the process?

However, he couldn't really blame them for being suspicious, especially when it came to his whereabouts the previous night. How do you rationally explain you were chased by a murderous robot-ghost-thing? The obvious answer was to avoid the topic all together. He hoped he was convincing enough when he said he and his friends had taken a walk in the evening and returned to Sam's house to watch some movies. He specifically avoided mentioning the park. There was no telling what the officers would think if they learned he might have been around when it got torn up. He was actually kind of surprised no one in the precinct had mentioned it.

A few times during his interview, he had nervously flattened his bangs a few times, hoping to hide the cut he had suddenly remembered getting at the beginning of his terrifying adventure. The officer interviewing him had noticed the motion, which caused him to leave it alone the rest of the time he was in the room. Surprisingly, Danny wasn't asked about it. A little wary after he was finished and allowed to exit the room, he touched the spot only to find smooth skin. It took a lot of self-control to not dash to a reflective surface and examine his forehead. There was no use in making the officers more suspicious. As weird as a missing cut was he could wait until he got home to check.

Scratch that… he could check after he found a place to stay for a while. As he was about to exit the station, an older officer kindly reminded him of the fact his house was currently considered a crime scene. After apologizing for a lack of effort from the staff for trying to contact his family and promising to personally look into it in the morning, he directed Danny to a nearby phone situated at the front desk.

Danny was a little surprised at the kind attitude of the officer as he had been dealing with a special type of dick for the past several hours, but it was a nice change. Shaking his head a little, he moved to the phone to call Sam, praying she was still awake as it was approaching midnight. Both of his friends told him they wanted an update, but with it being late and he being emotionally, physically, and mentally drained, the only topic he wanted to discuss involved where he would be staying for the night.

As he was dialing her number, the door to the station opened and a tall man strolled in. The newcomer was tall and rather thin. He wore a clean black business suit which appeared to be expertly cared for and rather expensive. Gray hair had been slicked back into a neat ponytail, and calculating cold blue eyes surveyed his surroundings. Danny dropped the phone in surprise as he realized the man in front of him was the one and only Vlad Masters.

The sound from the phone brought him to Masters' attention, causing the man to adopt an unsettling grin. "Why here you are! I've been looking all over for you!" The tone of his voice and his expression adopted a semblance of concern, but it did not reach his eyes. "I was so worried after I found out what happened to Winston. My condolences, but I'm glad you're safe and sound."

"Don't talk about Winston like he's dead!" Danny snapped. "Look, can you just go away? If you haven't realized, it's been a pretty bad day for me, and I don't feel like talking to you right now."

"Of course. How inconsiderate of me. After everything you've been through today, you must be exhausted. Come, I'll make sure you're well taken care of."

It took Danny a moment to grasp the implications of Vlad's statement. "Wait… what? There's no way I'm going with you!"

"Poor boy, you must be more tired than you realize." The businessman pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a dramatic sigh. "Don't you remember? It was determined that you would be placed into my care if anything were to happen to Winston."

"That's news to me!"

"Excuse me, but what exactly is going on here?" The sound of the officer's voice made him jump. He had forgotten there was another soul in the room. However, he couldn't be more relieved. Being in the room alone with the businessman was an unnerving thought. It was even more relieving when he realized the officer seemed to be equally suspicious.

In a truly professional manner, Vlad introduced himself and explained his relationship to Danny as well as his involvement in the custody battle. Again, he mentioned how he was now to act as a guardian in Winston's stead.

"I already told you, I'm not going anywhere with you!" Danny growled as he glared at the man. Something was very wrong with the picture. Winston didn't trust Vlad, and there was no way he would let him fall into the billionaire's hands.

"You have to forgive the boy. We had a little spat the last time we saw each other, and I'm afraid he hasn't forgiven me," Vlad apologetically explained to the officer.

"Spat? You broke into my house?"

Before Vlad could respond, the officer held up his hand to halt the brewing argument. "Mr. Masters, do you have some sort of proof you can take the boy?" Vlad's expression quickly changed from shocked to insulted as the officer spoke. "Surely a man of your standing can understand our position. With the way Mr. Wolfe was attacked, we cannot rule anyone out as a potential suspect. With you being involved in a custody battle and Danny's status as a minor, we are rather uncomfortable sending him on his way like this. I'm also fairly certain you weren't notified of the situation…" The officer's eyes narrowed as he appraised the man. "Which leads me to wonder how you found out."

"One of my staff members was going to drop off some papers at the house when she saw the police cars and asked what happened" Vlad explained with an impatient air. "But that's not important right now…"

As he watched Vlad begin to argue with the officer, Danny couldn't help but feel a rush of gratitude. For whatever reason, the officer did not seem to believe Vlad's story and generally seemed concerned for his wellbeing.

Everything seemed to be going in his favor when Danny was nearly bowled over by a sudden blast of cold air rushed by him. Startled, he started looking around to find some possible source… and open window, a vent, something to explain it. While he tried to wrack his brains for some other answer when the normal explanations were ruled out, he noticed the officer stumble slightly. He didn't think anything of it until the man rubbed his forehead and excused himself for a moment.

Rather unsettled by the officer's display and being left alone with Vlad, Danny moved back to the phone to attempt to resume his call. Though he was able to reach Sam's house this time, a presumed butler answered and informed him that "Miss Samantha is asleep and no longer taking calls for the night." While Danny was pretty sure it was a lie, he went with it and asked the man to give a message to her when he could.

Displeased by the turn of events, he was about to try calling Tucker when the officer returned to the room. Something did not seem right as he looked at him. The man's posture seemed stiff, and his eyes were unfocused and reddish. Wait… Danny blinked and rubbed his eyes before checking again. The man's eyes were actually red! Weren't they brown before?

"Sorry for the inconvenience." The officer's voice had an unusual mechanical quality to it… almost as if the words he was saying weren't actually his. He held up a document of some sorts as he spoke again. "It seems like someone did verify this earlier, but just forgot to place it somewhere it could be found."

"Does this mean everything's in order?" Vlad asked with a voice filled with hardly concealed delight.

"Yes. You can take the boy. We'll be in touch within the next few days to let you know how Wolfe is doing."

"Splendid! Come on my boy, it's time to go!"

Danny backed away as Vlad beckoned to him, nearly tripping over the desk in the process. His mind was screaming all sorts of warnings at him. The entire situation felt wrong, but he had no idea how to escape it. Vlad was blocking his way to the front door, and he doubted the few officers left in the building would appreciate a desperate search for the rear exit.

"What did you do to him?" he demanded as his eyes darted between both men before he pointed at Vlad. He knew he probably wasn't going to get an answer, but he hoped he could stall the man long enough to come up with some sort of plan.

"Pardon me? Whatever do you mean?"

"Y-you know what I mean!" While he tried to keep the anger in his voice, it was quickly giving way to panic. Vlad kept moving towards him wearing an increasingly predatory expression which was really creeping him out. Strangely, the thought of accidently falling through the wall crossed his mind. Unsettling as it was, it was a far better situation than the one he was currently in. "The officer's not acting right!"

Vlad replied, but his words were drowned out as a strange coldness started to seep into his body, quickly filling every aspect. He tried to escape, thinking it was somehow tied to where he was standing, but his legs wouldn't respond. They felt heavy and strangely detached; his arms were beginning to feel the same way. He tried to yell out without any success. He soon realized his mind was being pushed further away from the sensations of his body and into something like a dark crevasse to be stored and forgotten.

But the coldness was not finished. It briefly brushed against his mind and seemed to whisper in an almost familiar voice, "Relax… It'll be safer for you and me if you do…"

Danny's last conscious thought before the darkness completely took him was to wonder if he was ever going to wake up.

….

When he came to, Danny found himself lying on his back and staring at an unfamiliar white ceiling. His mind felt groggy and his body heavy. Though he wasn't sure, he felt as if he had been asleep for quite some time. Sitting up, he tried to remember how he got where he was… only, he didn't know where that might be.

Looking around, he realized something wasn't right. The room he was in was rather large. It was a bedroom, not much different from Sam's, only it didn't have any posters or the same dark decorations. In fact, the room was mostly white save for some wooden furniture. Even the four-poster bed he was sitting on had a white comforter and curtains. The only real decoration in the room was a painting on the wall directly across from him which seemed to show military conquest with… a paranormal influence. It was rather grotesques.

The blank room gave him an uneasy feeling. Although it definitely wasn't, it gave him the feeling he was in a jail of sorts. Unnerved, he slowly got up and moved to the room's single window. After moving the curtains aside, he cursed as he realized the glass was heavily frosted, preventing him from seeing any scenery. His next move was to try the door, but it was locked.

After a panicked few minutes trying everything he could think of to attempt to open the door, he placed his back against the door and slid down it. What was he going to do? The better question was what was going to happen to him? With the room being blank, it gave him no indication of what he should expect. He should, he supposed, be thankful for it, but the wait might be too much for him to handle. What was the old adage? The suspense is worse than the actual event? He really hoped that wouldn't be the case.

xxxxxx

The sound of one of her parents calling for her to come into the downstairs wafted through the room, however, Sam was dead set on ignoring the summons. There were far more important things on her mind than dealing with whatever new 'daughter improvement project' they had come up with.

She was incredibly worried about her friend who neither she nor Tucker had heard from in a little over two days. At first she thought it might be due to being overwhelmed by suddenly finding out the man who raised him had been severely attacked and/or the police being jerks, but a call earlier in the day really concerned her.

She had been thinking about calling the police in the morning (while skipping class due to a feigned illness), however they beat her to the punch. Around eleven, she had received a call from one of the detectives asking her if she had heard from Danny. She told him no right before demanding to know what was wrong. Though it took a little bit of coaxing (and a reminder of her parents' influences), the officer admitted they had no idea where the boy was. He disappeared after his interview with another officer, and though they hated to admit it, after failing to contact him or anyone else who might have the boy, he was being labeled as a missing person. Her immediate response was to insult the competence of him and the rest of the force as the boy had gone missing from underneath their noses, but after she calmed down a bit, she promised to help in whatever way she could.

Sam sat down on her large purple clad bed and stared up at one of the posters on the ceiling as she tried to understand the situation. Her friend, who seemed to attract terrible and odd events, was now missing. Danny had tried to contact her the night he disappeared, but her family had forbidden her from further calls when she had returned home that night after they learned about the attack on Winston. Somehow, they had gotten the notion whatever had harmed Winston could attack her if she continued to talk to Danny. Though it was kind of nice to know they cared, they had taken it way overbroad.

But what was strange about the situation was there was no security image of Danny leaving the precinct. The officer had explained to her they had installed cameras a while back after someone had tried to break in to the office in an attempt to steal their guns. Due to safely concerns, they regularly had them checked, but the night Danny disappeared, they had a major malfunction. There was an image of him entering the entrance area, but after a few minutes, the image distorted so badly they could not make heads or tails of it. It also seemed to return to normal rather suddenly after a while, but Danny was long gone by then.

A look at the clock told her she was going to have to wait a while before she could contact Tucker. Unlike her, he had been forced to go to school. She had no idea if he already knew Danny was missing, but no matter what, he was going to help her try to find him. Tucker was the probably the only person in town who could possibly get an image off of the damaged security tape, and the only other person (besides her) who Danny had trusted with his issues. They had to try and do what they could to help him.

…

"So, any luck?" Sam asked the boy currently sitting on her rug surrounded by any number of other electronic equipment. He had been staring at the screen of his PDA with an intense look for quite some time.

She had managed to contact Tucker mere moments after he was finished with his classes for the day and explained the situation. After freaking out a bit, he told her he would be over soon after he made a quick stop. He arrived about forty minutes later looking more determined than he had ever seen him while carrying a bookbag filled to the brim with tech supplies she had never seen before. After asking if he needed anything, Tucker quickly went to work with his task.

"…Whoever did this to this footage is really good…" he eventually replied after a few more minutes of silence.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked hesitantly. It was rare to hear such a tone in Tucker's voice when it came to technology. He could usually work his way around a system in a few seconds, minutes if it was more complicated, but this was really causing him problems.

"It's hard to explain… Usually, people just modify existing images when they don't something seen, but this guy actually managed to replace some of the footage with an error screen…"

"So… it's gone… Like completely, gone? You can't trace it or anything?" There was no way for her to hide the hint of panic in her voice. If Tucker couldn't bring up anything, no one could… which meant they weren't going to have anything to use to find Danny.

A small laugh escaped Tucker, which caused her to stare at the boy. "Jeez, Sam, you shouldn't think so little of me. Who do you think I am? This guy, though good, made a small mistake. I guess he got interrupted or something because he started just covering up the image after a while instead of changing it. To most people, it's nearly impossible to catch, but it's there. Just give me a little bit of time…."

"A little bit of time?" Sam repeated as she watched him frantically work with his PDA. "How long are we talking about?"

He hit a few more buttons on the screen before he looked up and smiled. "Does 'now' work for you?"

"Tucker, you're amazing!"

"I know, I know. But it's nice to have my fans remind me."

Sam pulled down his hat in response as she sat next to him on the floor. "Anyways, do you have the entire footage?"

"I couldn't get part of it due to the replacement… but it looks like a little less than half was just modified…. So, let's see what no one wanted us to find…." He pressed a button on the screen and a fuzzy image began to appear. On the footage, they could see Danny backing away from someone standing near the door. It was difficult to make out, but judging from Danny's posture, he did not seem to be happy to see the person. After a little bit, Danny stopped retreating and followed the unknown man out the door.

Without any prodding, Tucker tried to see if he could clear the image a little or at least clear up the image of the suspect. After frantically trying several different techniques, he sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. According to him, even though the person had changed methods, they were still able to damage the rest of the footage.

"I'll continue to work with it when I get home," he promised. "This is going to require some big guns for me to get something useful out of this. But don't worry; I'm not going to give up. After he saved our lives, I think this is the least I can do for him."

…..

Tucker had been booted from the house as soon as Sam's parents caught him being there. Thinking back, she was a little surprised he had managed to sneak past them in the first place since they were particularly good at catching people going up to her room. They had punished her in response by having her stay in her room for the rest of the night, which didn't bother her in the least bit.

Around seven in the evening she received a call on her cell. Noticing the number, she picked it up as quickly as possible, hoping her parents didn't hear it ringing. "Did you find anything?" she asked the caller as a form of greeting. The caller's reply was spoken too quickly and frantically for her to understand. "Whoa, slow down Tucker! I can't understand you!"

"Sam… it's worse than we thought!" came his panicked reply. "I managed to identify who was in the police station with Danny."

"Yeah? Well, who was it?"

"It was… Vlad Masters…."

Sam barely registered the phone slipping from her fingers and landing on the floor. How could she be so stupid? She knew that man had an interest in getting hold of Danny and should be the first logical suspect, but she didn't realize he would have stooped so low.

Angry with herself, she reached down to grab her phone so she could calm a frantic Tucker but stopped midway as a thought crossed her mind. How were they going to be able to get Danny back from a man who had mastered in lies with an unimaginable fortune to back him up?

=============================================================

I just wanted to point out that the way these officers are depicted is due to experience. The ones in the borough where I grew up were usually nice, but if they had it in their minds you did something wrong, you could be treated like trash. But at the same time, they're the reason why my childhood bully wasn't excepted into the NFL - they slapped him with assault charges when he decided to get into a fight while he was in college. I have mixed feelings. The officers from the neighboring borough were wonderful.

[deathlikescupcakes]

Can I just say I’m so glad The Old Guard was getting attention on tumblr. Matthias Schoenaerts has been my favorite actor for over a year and I’m glad he’s finally getting some recognition in this community. I knew that The Old Guard was going to be an amazing movie simply because he was in it. I have not yet seen a film of his that was bad. He chooses each movie carefully and with such respect to acting that they can’t possibly be bad. For God’s sake, he turned down the role of Batman because there’s no meaning to the role anymore. Here’s a comprehensive list of his works I’ve seen and the order I watched them in.

The Laundromat (available on Netflix): I watched this a month before “discovering” Matthias. Turns out he’s the asshole who I was glad died. This movie would probably be considered boring to the average viewer. However, I am someone who enjoys introspective and sometimes hard to understand films. This movie is about whistleblowers and how the rich avoid taxes by using offshore bank accounts. I watched it during the whistleblower scandal in 2019 so it was uncomfortably relevant. That being said, I will not watch a few specific scenes in the very beginning because it shows the images of drowned people. That is something this film (and another one of Matthias’) have helped me come to realize; I don’t like the image of drowned bodies.

The Danish Girl (available on Netflix): This movie depicts Eddie Redmayne as a transgender woman. Some people found this controversial because he is not transgender in real life but I could not imagine someone else depicting Lili. I think it is a beautiful retelling of the first transgender woman to undergo the first part of gender reassignment surgery. I cried at the end and am unashamed to say so. I think it’s a wonderful LGBT film and Matthias is an added bonus.

Suite Française (unavailable unless purchased): It is such a shame that Netflix took this movie from their collection because I think it was beautiful. Matthias is the main love interest in it as a Bruno, a Nazi stationed in Bussy. He was a composer before the war and I like how the movie depicts a soldier fighting because of familial requirement (Bruno comes from a military family) instead of personal belief. However, he is still a Nazi! I am not a Nazi sympathizer! It is uncomfortable in that sense but it is a romance, so...

The Command (available on Netflix): This is a film based on a true story of a Russian submarine sinking and men being trapped in it and still alive. It is heartbreaking and, at times, funny. I’m the type of person who will google the end of a movie if it is based on true events (‘cause it’s not spoilers if it’s history, right?). However, I did not do that with this movie for some reason and that was a big mistake. SPOILER IN ASTERISKS *I cried at the ending and I will not watch it anymore because of the whole drowned bodies thing.* All in all, it’s a beautiful movie based on an unnecessary tragedy that resulted from politics.

A Little Chaos (available on Netflix): This is a movie that shows an awesome female lead taking charge and not letting men get in the way of her talents. I feel like the romance between Matthias and Kate Winslet came second to that, which I appreciate. Also, this film has Alan Rickman playing the king who ordered the construction of the gardens of the Palace of Versailles (can’t remember which king). So like... that’s freaking awesome.

Our Souls At Night (available on Netflix): This is also a film that to most viewers would be considered boring. It has very little Matthias but I thought was at least worth mentioning. It’s a sweet story about and older man and woman who have both been left alone by time and start sleeping platonically in the same bed. I think that idea is sweet overall just to prevent touch starvation which can seriously screw a person up but the film also has an unlikely ending for a romance film.

The Old Guard (available on Netflix): This movie, regardless of Matthias is amazing! I’m not an action movie person but this was great and I’ve already seen it twice. I also made my friends watch it with me. The soundtrack is subtle, unusual, and awesome for the film. It was directed by a black woman (which definitely shows). Like seriously, there was not one scene of Andy in a sports bra. She wears a tank top the entire time. There is a canon and wholesome gay relationship and an implied lesbian one. The gore and violence, in my opinion, is tasteful and not overdone. Also, the choice to cast Harry Melling as the villain (the guy who played Dudley in Harry Potter) was a good choice. There’s just something about him as Steven Merrick that just makes me mutter “twit” and want him to die.

This high praise is without even seeing his most know works such as Rust and Bone, Far From the Madding Crowd, Red Sparrow, Bullhead, and The Mustang. Unfortunate, these films are not available on any streaming service I subscribe to but someday I’ll watch them.

Seriously guys, check Matthias Schoenaerts out. He’s an amazing actor who really dedicated himself to the quality of his work. Also, he does graffiti which is rad af.

[ayeonz]

Top 10 Kpop Debuts of 2020, According to Me

This originally was a list of 15, but Tumblr has a word limit for some fucking reason, or something so I had to delete 11-15 from this. However, you can find the lists here on Spotify (1-15), or here on YouTube (15-1).

10. "SO BAD" - STAYC (November 12)

This was a very solid debut, but it felt too polished. Everything about it was great and engaging, but there was no true "Wow!" moment. I feel like the music video could have done with looking a little cheaper, as to be true to what the song itself invokes. Negatives aside, I really enjoyed it and have nothing but praise for their talent. I love the girl with the deep voice. It was a fine addition to the retro revival trend in Kpop.

9. "BOSS" - KIARA (January 20)

I might be biased, because I'm kind of in love with her, but for a nugu soloist, her debut was very well executed. All of her vibes are perfect, and her comeback "TOMBOY" was honestly even better. It's such a good example of doing the best with what you have and if you don't look too closely, this song and music video could have been dropped by any major Kpop artist.

8. "Nun Nu Nan Na" - cignature (February 3)

Mark my words, cignature are going to become a force to be reckoned with in the future. I honestly think they outdo ITZY in terms of chaos. This group is insanely talented, and carry more energy than a puppy overdosed on caffeine. Their songs feel like pure insanity. I could totally see them becoming one of my ult groups in future.

7. "Black Mamba" - aespa (November 17)

Oh my god, this was good. The quality is immaculate, the song is so catchy and powerful, the choreography is memorable and they're such talented dancers. I'm pointedly ignoring their AI concept and hope it makes even less of an appearance in future. I do feel like there's something missing, but I couldn't tell you what and I still believe this is definitely one of the finer debuts of the year.

6. "DDALALALA" - XUM (September 13)

What the hell is this music video? It's so addicting and has no right being in this quality. It's everything I love about nugu girl group music videos, except with a unusually high budget. Dayeon stole the show. I couldn't place this any lower if I tried. It deserves to be lower and higher at the same time; what the fuck.

5. "OH YA YA YA" - LUNARSOLAR (September 2)

No because this really is so good. It's super addicting and catchy and super well produced, I really hope this group lasts. Minus points for white people in the music video, but otherwise I'm totally in love with the whole thing.

4. "BOY" - TREASURE (August 7)

I had zero expectations for this debut after how meh most boy groups were this year, but that was my own fault. This was flawless and feels so unique. I'm absolutely bewitched by both beat drops; this was so up my alley.

3. "ICE AGE" - MCND (February 27)

I really forgot how damn good this was. Definitely the best boy group debut, and also the best choreography. Super catchy, super fun, super powerful, super talented. The only downside is the hair styling. They remind me of Block B a lot.

2. "@Me (Tag Me)" - Weeekly (June 30)

I'm still obsessed with this. It has no business being this good and Weeekly are the new queens of cute concepts. It's one of the most creative choreographies I've seen in a while. If you didn't know anything about them, you'd think they'd been out here for years.

1. "NUMNUM" - DAYDREAM (February 23)

First and foremost, this song hasn't aged a minute and I've been playing it all year. As for the music video, they knew what they were working with and they absolutely owned it. Like, the video editor and director and whoever else did NOT need to go that hard on a $3 budget. They didn't try to be something they weren't and it's deliciously self aware. RIP DAYDREAM, shortlived though you were, you own me with this song. I can't wait to see what comes of Alim, Sorin and Chaeha's (who now goes by Xindy and is set to redebut in ZeroSix next year!) future projects!