#OOPS this is still an enormous post

[loki-cees-all]

Chapter 3 - Then With the Eyes Shut {TLTGYA - Post-TVA!Loki x OFC Longfic}

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Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Loki is trying his best to just ignore his new cellmate, but she’s really not making it easy for him. 

Chapter W/c : 4.7k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Heavy angst, again. Oops! 

Author's Note : Sorry this chapter is so late! It’s a long story, but I got kicked through a Time Door and was temporarily lost to time. Anyway - hope you all enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for reading! 

18+ Only - Minors DNI

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Loki had never been one to loathe his own nightmares; he needed their reminder, and he craved the pain they caused. But the nightmares had betrayed him - forcing him into revealing his presence to his new cell mate, and so he was absolutely cursing them now. 

He’d forced himself to look away before responding to her query about escaping, and while he hadn’t directly witnessed her disappointment and confusion, he had felt them. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Loki resented having to admit out loud that he’d rather stay there in that horrible place, that his reluctance to leave was probably going to damn her as well. 

She was an innocent bystander, someone who didn’t deserve the danger and chaos and death that followed Loki wherever he went. But he knew she was doomed the moment she entered his presence, whether they stayed or left. 

The woman had made several more attempts to communicate after he laid back down, and Loki had ignored every one of them. But he didn’t dare fall back asleep; he was bound to have another nightmare, and having another person there to witness its aftermath was just too intimate, and too much for him to deal with, on top of everything else. 

So he just continued laying on his side, his dark cloak pulled tight around him and his forearm curled underneath his head, and his eyes open but not seeing as he listened to the dungeon sounds that he had grown painfully accustomed to. The water droplets and distant screams were almost comforting at this point, but the sound of the woman’s quiet sobs and prayers for assistance were most certainly not. 

Loki couldn’t blame her for them, though - she had every right to be frightened. He could feel her muscles tensing up with every scream in the distance, with every footstep of the guards down the hallway. And for some reason, her anguish was much harder to deal with than the ones of his previous cell mates. 

He told himself it was just because she was the only one who ever knew he was there, and that he just needed to be patient for another two or three days, because eventually the guards would come for her. Eventually, she’d be put out of her misery, and Loki would be able to nightmare in peace once again.

Until then, Loki would continue to suffer while awake. Keeping his heavy eyelids open was an enormous effort, and shifting his position on the floor felt like trying to push cinder blocks against an ocean’s current. He never would have guessed that simply lying down would be so exhausting. 

Not even the rigorous warrior training he was obligated to endure under Odin’s guidance had been this depleting, and while he hadn’t necessarily been conscious during the horrors inflicted upon him on Knowhere, his body had still suffered tremendously. 

Just how long had he been awake anyway? There were no windows in his cell, no sunrise or sunset to witness, and mercifully, no clocks to mark the passage of time. That had been his favorite part about this place, back when there was nothing to look forward to and nothing to dread. 

It was peculiar that they hadn’t come for her yet. No one else, other than him, had ever survived for this long. What exactly were the guards waiting for?

Loki clenched his jaw and sighed in frustration. He didn’t want to ask questions - even to himself - and he certainly didn’t want answers; they just made doing nothing that much harder, and it wasn’t the kind of punishment he had been seeking in the first place. 

All he could do was remind himself that this was all temporary. He didn’t know or care if the universe was trying to offer or taunt him with a chance at redemption, but he wasn’t going to fall for it again. The opportunity - or the illusion - would eventually pass, just like all the other times he had tried and failed, and soon he’d be able to return to his nightmares.

For the most part, he dreamt about running; from himself, from truth and lies and pain and respite. From villains and heroes as they chased him down endless hallways with countless doorways. And whenever he stopped to open them, each one led to the memory of a time he could have made the right decision and didn’t - when he could have just not snuck the Frost Giants into Asgard, when he could have just stayed in the Void with his other variants, or any time he could have just not picked up the Tesseract - 

Loki gasped violently, and his eyes flew open in a panic - he had started to fall asleep again. He immediately froze in place, listening for signs that the woman had heard the disturbance. But she didn’t move or speak, and Loki was grateful for that. 

His lungs heaved for air and his heart thudded painfully in his chest as he desperately tried to calm himself down, and his jaw set in place as he forced his eyes to focus on the cracks of the stone before him. The most prominent one was deep, chiseled and eroded away by years of water and pain. Smaller cracks branched out from the primary fault, some above it and some below, just like the doomed offshoots from the Sacred Timeline. 

He couldn’t help but wonder - were those branches still being pruned? Or were they allowed to continue, drifting and splitting in countless directions with endless opportunities for variants of He Who Remains to come into power? To declare war against the others? To destroy and conquer everything in their sight in pursuit of their own narcissism? 

Before he knew it, his eyes were filled with tears. He hadn’t driven the knife into He Who Remains, but he might as well have. The failure was on him, and the countless lives that would be ruined whether the TVA continued pruning or the dangerous variants were allowed to come into power was his burden to bear. His glorious purpose…

This wasn’t working - sleep only led to nightmares, and staring at the wall only invited rumination. His mind wasn’t in his own control, Loki’s muscles were aching and screaming for a change in position, the damn TVA belt was digging painfully into his belly, and as much as he didn’t want the woman witnessing his nightmares, he definitely didn’t want her to know he was weeping. 

Loki needed a different kind of distraction, and since he had no previous history with the woman, perhaps she could be the right kind. 

It was excruciating, but Loki did it anyway. He placed his palm flat on the stone floor and carefully pushed himself upright, his joints creaking and popping uncomfortably after months of disuse. Moving slowly and cautiously, and stifling multiple groans of pain, he finally managed to bring himself into a sitting position. He was still hiding in the shadows, still unwilling to expose himself, and he leaned back against the stone with a heavy sigh. 

His long legs were outstretched before him, one ankle crossed over the other, and his hands were folded neatly in his lap and underneath the dark cloak. Physical pain was temporarily assuaged, and he waited patiently for his green eyes to adjust to the meager shift in lighting conditions. 

It had been a long time since he had looked at this side of the cell, and not much had changed; the hallways were still sparsely illuminated with poorly-maintained lanterns, the stone walls were still grizzled and filthy, and the bars were still aged and corroded. There was nothing new to see, and nothing new to feel, and inevitably, his gaze migrated over to his new cellmate. 

She was still in the same position as when he had last looked at her, knees pulled to her chest and huddled against the opposite corner of the cell. She even wore the same expression of despair and anguish as before, except she had somehow managed to fall asleep. Her eyes were now closed, and she was breathing in and out slowly, and that was the only reason Loki felt comfortable looking closer. 

The woman’s fiery red hair, woven into one long braid slung over her shoulder, glowed in the lantern light; in any other conditions, her hair would have been stunning, but in here, it was just tragic. A long and thin chain hung around her neck, the links hooked together to support whatever gem or stone her fingers was wrapped around, clinging to it like it was magically going to transport her to safety. 

In that same hand, Loki could see she clutched the small blade of an unused dagger, its blade free of chips and jagged edges, and her other arm was hidden inside her dark cloak. 

Loki found himself wondering who she used to be before she was brought here, and what she had done to deserve it. He had always prided himself on being a quick study, an expert on reading between the lines of who people were, of what they craved - and more importantly - what they lacked.  

He was always able to use that skill to his advantage - but Loki was stumped with this one. Her clothes, black leather and dark green cloth, were relatively clean and well-tailored. The dungeon guards could be after money, but that seemed unlikely while her jewelry and weaponry were left untouched. And as far as he knew, there was no extortion happening in this place - only death, perpetuated by mysterious guards, who for all Loki knew, were simply doing this for fun. 

As if on cue, the sound of clinking keys echoed from down the hallway. Surprisingly, Loki felt no relief at the sound, and he closed his eyes to concentrate on the footsteps of her reapers coming to collect what they were owed; except it wasn’t the usual pair of guards moving down the hallway, it just was one of them. 

His brow furrowed, and his eyes cracked open just as the lone guard came into view and paused before the cell door. The guard held some sort of tray, balanced in one hand while the other pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and began to unlock the cell door. It was only then that the woman startled awake. 

She gasped in fear as she scooted back away from the door, pushing herself with her feet and trying to find a safe distance within the confines of their cell. She still clutched her dagger tightly, instead of using it to fight, and Loki, still hidden in the shadows, remained unmoving as the guard stepped inside and carefully placed a tray of food on the floor. 

Loki couldn’t believe it. After how many weeks and months, how many prisoners and deaths, not once had he ever encountered anyone being fed here. Not once had the guards kept anyone around long enough to even warrant feeding. 

In fact, it was the first time Loki had ever gotten a good look at any of them. The guard moved slowly and with purpose, dressed head to toe in black clothing that lacked any markings or indications as to who he worked for, or what their goal was. The mask he wore was flat and expressionless, tinted with ochre and had two thin cutouts for the eyes and none for the mouth. 

And even with the mask obscuring his features, the guard radiated animosity towards the woman as he lingered in the cell - as if he completely despised her, even as he was feeding her. 

The guard finally backed out of the cell and relocked the door, and the woman eyed the tray suspiciously, conflicted between wanting to trust the food, but not wanting to be poisoned either. She didn’t seem to notice the guard’s covered face turning as he moved down the hallway, still staring at her from underneath the mask as he walked away. 

Loki’s brow furrowed as he turned his attention back to the woman. She carefully placed the dagger on the stone floor and inched her fingers forward to reach for the tray, her green eyes still transitioning between apprehension and hunger in the face of the unappealing food that had been delivered by her captors. 

The tray contained a bowl of grains, soggy and mushy and almost certainly cold, and next to it sat a hunk of bread, the age of which was undeterminable. No one would ever choose this as a meal, but it was probably the only food she’d seen in days - and Loki, months. But her apprehension hung heavy in the air, suffocating him like the unanswered questions he was dying to ask. 

“They wouldn’t have bothered with imprisonment if they were going to poison you. Just eat it.”

The woman practically leapt out of her skin at the sound of Loki’s voice, like she had forgotten he was there. She shrank back against the wall, gasping for breath and scanning the cell wildly. “Oh, now you wish to talk?!” 

Loki’s expression remained impassive as he looked back at her. “Your unease was distracting. Just eat it,” he repeated coolly.

After a moment, she swallowed hard and nodded as she slowly pulled the tray closer to her. “Right, of course. Obviously poisoning me now would really be crossing a line…” 

The woman smiled sarcastically as she spoke, and the corners of Loki’s mouth twitched underneath his stoic expression. Maintaining a sense of humor under these conditions was an impressive feat - another item to add to his growing list of questions - and he decided it might be worth it to give in to the curiosity. It would be a temporary reprieve from the nightmares, and Loki knew they were still waiting for him - but they could hold on just a little bit longer. 

The woman cleared her throat as she carefully picked up the spoon with her right hand and dragged it clumsily through the porridge. Loki noticed that her other arm was still hidden within her cloak, and that her eyes flitted nervously between the dagger on her tray, her only weapon to defend herself, and the spoon, the only tool she had to feed herself. 

So they kidnap her, break her dominant arm…and now they’re feeding her…

None of it made sense. Clearly they intended to keep her alive - albeit broken - for a long time, but for what purpose? Loki hated that he wanted to know, that he couldn’t resist the puzzle pieces sitting before him. He had come here to suffer, not to play games, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. “Who are you?” 

The woman’s expression softened, and she looked towards him in the shadows. “My name is - ”

“No, I’m not asking for your name,” Loki replied, staring intently at her from the shadows and doing his best to ignore the optimism on her face. “Who are you to the guards?” 

“Me? I’m…nobody,” she laughed nervously as she twirled the spoon through the porridge. 

Loki cocked his head as he leaned forward. There had to be some explanation as to why they would go through the effort to capture but not kill her. “Then why are they feeding you?” 

The woman turned her head to look in his direction, her green eyes narrowed as they searched the darkness for his. “I don’t know. Why aren’t they feeding you?” 

Loki chuckled to himself; he wasn’t interested in answering questions, but he couldn’t help but admire the way she was dodging his. It had been quite a long time since he had found something so intriguing, and for a moment he almost forgot about the horrors that usually unraveled whenever he pulled on a thread. 

“I already know why they aren’t feeding me. What I don’t know is why you’re getting special treatment from the masked guards.” 

The woman’s expression shifted from irritation to concern as she set the spoon back down into the bowl. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?” 

Loki wasn’t expecting the change in her tone, or for anyone to bother showing interest in him ever again. He looked down at his hands in his lap as they fidgeted with each other. “Why? What difference does that make?”

“I was just wondering if the reason you’re so moody is because you’re…hungry.”

He swallowed hard, baffled by her conclusion and consideration. Loki was hungry, that much was true, but he wasn’t ever going to admit to that. “That’s…completely irrelevant, I - ”

The woman cleared her throat to interrupt him, and he paused as his eyes slowly traveled upwards. She was holding out the chunk of bread, extending it in his direction with a benevolent smile on her face. “Share?” 

Loki’s eyebrows knitted together as he stared at her expression of sincerity and kindness, struggling to answer a simple question without an uncomplicated answer. Food wasn’t going to solve any of his problems, and yet the offer felt like a lifeline for a lost soul that had spent far too long drowning in sorrow. 

He believed he didn’t deserve that lifeline, but before he could answer with what would almost certainly be a refusal, his muscles were inexorably pushing him upright. They made the decision for him, as if their need for sustenance nullified his desire to stay isolated. 

Loki cautiously took a few steps closer, a massive effort for someone who had spent over a thousand days in the dark, but as he reached for the bread, the woman moved it just out of his grasp. 

“If you’re going to eat with me, you can’t go back to hiding in the shadows. Agreed?” the woman offered, a slow smile creeping across her face as she looked up at him. 

Her green eyes sparkled with the guileless amusement of someone who didn’t know what they were actually asking of him, and Loki was grappling with the urge to resist temptation, to fight the siren’s call of both avoidance and hostility over her simple offer of food and company. 

It was foolish, and it was going to end in disaster, and Loki couldn’t understand why he was considering it at all. The years of previous mistakes had led him to believe that he couldn’t be trusted to make the right call, that the last choice he had made - the one to stay isolated from everyone and everything - was the only good thing he’d ever done. 

But it was just bread, and Loki told himself that the conversation would just be temporary, and so Loki cleared his throat and set his jaw in place. “Agreed.” 

The woman smiled with an innocent sort of triumph as she handed the bread back to him, and Loki felt his heart skip a beat. It was nothing, it was just a simple gesture, one that he didn’t deserve - she just didn’t know any better yet. 

He pushed the feeling away as he settled back down on the stone floor again, adjacent to the shadows but not within them this time. The woman shifted her attention back to her porridge, and Loki, feeling exposed and unsure of what to do or say, focused his attention on the bread. 

He turned it over in his hands, studying its shape and color - round and flat and carelessly formed, with a dark and over-cooked crust. It gave way under the pressure of his hands, snapping in half with a loud crack. Loki glanced over, and the woman was smiling softly at him. 

These two strangers were sharing a meal inside a dungeon meant for horrors and torture and pain, and Loki had to remind himself to not get used to it, because the price for even the simplest of meals was always going to be regret. 

“So, what should I call you?” the woman asked before bringing a spoonful of porridge to her mouth. 

Loki tore off a piece of bread and put it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing to buy himself some time instead of answering. He was sure that no one here had ever heard of him, that saying his name wouldn’t set off any alarm bells - but still he hesitated. What if his reputation had somehow preceded him? What if he actually wasn’t that far outside of the Nine Realms?

A thousand other what-ifs swirled in his mind, and the woman was still waiting for an answer after sharing her kindness and food that he definitely didn’t deserve. Maybe his name would somehow cast a spell for all of his enemies to hear, and they’d finally be able to find him, and they’d make sure he never had anyone to share a meal with ever again. That was what he deserved. 

“My name is…Loki.”

He braced himself for the eventual fallout, like his shame would manifest itself into the monster he knew he was, but nothing changed. The woman continued eating, perhaps only finding the time it took him to answer strange instead of the actual answer, the water droplets continued falling, and the darkness in the dungeon remained stagnant. 

“And why don’t the guards bring you any food, Loki? Are they punishing you beyond locking you in here?” 

It was a very loaded question, one with a very complicated answer, and Loki wasn’t sure how to handle it. He broke off another piece and put it in his mouth as he weighed his options - on the one hand, he didn’t know this woman at all, or if she was trustworthy; clearly the guards thought her important even if they hated her, but what exactly was she capable of? 

But on the other hand - what did he have left to lose? 

“The guards don’t know I’m here,” Loki answered truthfully. It was so unlike him to unveil himself like this, and he didn’t know whether it was because he had spent too long wallowing in apathy and simply didn’t care anymore, or if he was so desperate for connection that it weakened his sensibilities. 

The woman lowered the spoon back to the bowl as her brow furrowed. “Wait - you’re hiding here? Why?”

Another loaded question, and he was really starting to regret answering them. He had come out of the shadows to be distracted, not to have someone question his actions or judgment. The woman seemed genuinely curious about him, but how could he even begin to explain himself, and what would be the point? It wouldn’t alleviate his burden, and it would only lead to more questions. 

“I deserve to be here. This is where I belong,” The words felt like acid on his tongue, and Loki sighed heavily, looking down at his hands as the woman processed his words with even more confusion. 

What am I - the God of Self-Sabotage?

Those words he had spoken to Mobius so long ago were intended to be sarcasm at the time, but it was still the absolute truth. It wasn’t too late to end this, to lay back down and face away from her again. It might take a bit longer than a few days, but eventually she would be just as dead as all the others, and everything could go back to the way it was supposed to be. 

But he stayed where he was, exposed in small slivers of light as he crushed another chunk of bread between his teeth. 

“I’m…so sorry, Loki. I cannot imagine how whatever you’re hiding from could be worse than this…” the woman replied, shaking her head as she looked around the cell. “Or how you could possibly find respite in a place like this…”

If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be sympathizing with him right now, and Loki considered telling her about the awful things he’d done that had led him there. Just to get her to stop feeling sorry for him, to make her scared of him, to make her hide from him…because he was too broken to do anything else. 

Loki didn’t respond, busying himself with chewing and swallowing, and he could feel her gaze return to him before she spoke again. “Look, whatever you’ve done - it can’t have been so bad - ”

He wanted to believe her, but she was so very wrong about him, and his heart ached as she continued justifying what she had no way of understanding, the pressure of her reassurances constricting his insides and sending blood rushing through his ears. He could barely hear what she was saying, but her expression was kind and forgiving and it was too much for him to handle. 

“With all due respect - ” Loki finally snapped, interrupting and meeting her sympathetic expression with a fiercer, more intense one of his own. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know me, and you don’t know what I’ve done.” 

The woman stared at him for a moment, her eyes widened in surprise, before looking back down at the tray in her lap. “You’re right. I apologize…” 

Loki shook his head as heavy silence descended around them. He hadn’t meant to be so insistent, but she was in direct contradiction to the torment he was deserving of. 

Tearing off another chunk of bread, they both chewed without speaking, unsure of how to continue. The air hung heavy, full of regret and musk and uncertainty, but he could feel the woman’s gaze shifting to and from him, like she wanted to ask him another question. He could only pray that it wasn’t about himself. 

“So, um…do you happen to know who the dungeon guards are? Or what they want from me, or the others?” 

Loki was unable to hide the snark still lingering in his tone. “How am I supposed to know what they want with you?” 

The answer to that question was what had initially drawn him out of the shadows in the first place, and he was vexed that she had somehow managed to turn his interrogation on its head so easily. 

The woman either didn’t notice his growing irritation, or was deliberately ignoring it. “And I take it no one’s coming to rescue you?” 

He sighed and leaned back against the stone wall. It was cold and unyielding, like the cruel fate he deserved, like the harsh loneliness he had felt his entire life. No one would have come to save him, even if they knew where he was. 

Somehow his cellmate seemed to understand that, judging by the forlorn look in her eyes. Loki felt raw and exposed, oddly juxtaposed against his desperate need to be understood - a feeling he thought was dead and buried a long time ago. Why was this happening? How did she do this to him? 

The woman moved her tray to the floor and stared intently at him. “Look, no one’s coming for me either, so we need to break out on our own. It shouldn’t be too difficult if we’re working together.” 

So that’s all she wanted - for him to save her. Loki ran a hand across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. That was a choice she expected him to make, one that put her very life at stake, and more importantly - it would require him leaving in order to save her. His head already ached with the burden of it all, and that familiar dread of his previous captors forcing their own wills on him was washing over him again. 

“Plus, we have the element of surprise if the guards don’t - ” the woman continued, and Loki was now positive that she was definitely ignoring his trepidation entirely. Her expression was hopeful, and he couldn’t stand it. 

“No. Absolutely not. Absolutely not!” Loki seethed through gritted teeth, and his jaw clenched together as anger coursed through his veins. “If you want to leave, you’ll have to do it alone!”

Their eyes met, and she looked absolutely crushed again. He was sorry no one was coming to rescue her either, but that couldn’t be his burden to bear. He hadn’t meant to be lured into any sort of camaraderie, he just didn’t want to fall asleep again. And while Loki knew doing nothing was worse than trying and failing, he couldn’t bring himself to take the chance. 

“Look, I appreciate the meal, but this was a mistake,” he sighed heavily. “You’re better off on your own.” 

Loki shoved the final chunk of bread in his mouth and started to chew. And without waiting for a response, he lowered his back to the stone floor, resuming his position on his side and closing his eyes. 

He told himself he was better off without her too. 

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Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

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#loki x original female character #loki #loki fanfiction #loki angst #loki laufeyson #loki x ofc #loki imagine #TLTGYA #cee writes #loki smut #slow burn #mutual pining #loki x oc #tva loki #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki fic #loki mcu #marvel #imagine #fanfic #smut #fluff #angst #loki imagines #loki fluff #hurt/comfort #loki hurt/comfort #loki mutual pining

[olenvasynyt]

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank you for tagging me, @zenkindoflove!

This is kind of hard because I have multiple WIPs but my Lucien backstory fic is literally enormous. So I'll split it into two sections:

Chapters from A Court of Embers and Sunlight:

The Cinnamon Lark (Lucien needs to find an inn to stay in. Jesminda gives him some suggestions)

Burning Skin (Eris gets drunk during his birthday party)

Crystal Sarongs (Lucien visits the Summer Court beaches)

Inventing New Colors (Jesminda invites Lucien over for dinner)

Sunlight In A Vase (Lucien gets a bouquet of sunflowers for LoA)

Splinters of Memory (Lucien witnesses an execution)

Fitting For Wings (Lucien and Jesminda visit a seamstress)

Smaller WIPs (though some are still about Lucien pre-ACOTAR lmao):

Remembering the Smell of Rotting Apples (Lucien and Feyre reconcile. Feyre actually feels guilty and apologizes for how she treats Lucien? Omg amazing. Also Lucien backstory angst)

Let Me See Her (Lucien is newly made an emissary to the Spring Court, and he has to sort out a trade dispute with Autumn. Oops, more backstory angst + mommy issues)

Ruhn Danaan Loves Shibari (two-shot Ruhn x Lidia fic. Smut with no plot. YES LIDIA DOES TIE HIM UP AND FLOG HIM BUT HE LIKES IT! I started this wayyyyy before CC3 came out, okay??? He also ties Lidia up so it evens out)

Mor's Bleeding (Mor gets her first bleeding and is desperate to get out of her betrothal with Eris Vanserra)

The Burning Oak Tree (also a chapter in my Lucien backstory fic. Eris as an Autumn Court general during the Human War)

No pressure tag: @works-of-heart, @starborn15 , @starsreminisce , @crazy-ache

#lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #mor acotar #the autumn court #lady of autumn #lucien backstory fanfic #lucien backstory #lucien fanfic #feyre and lucien #lucien and jesminda

[toughtink]

a long time ago i made a guide to keys in Gideon the Ninth. i said i’d do some more Locked Tomb notes in the future, so i’m back to do that! these posts are pretty much my personal notes taken during my last reread, perfectly prone to errors, so feel free to add on if you spot any inconsistencies. also, the citations are specifically for the american paperback versions of the books. and i haven’t put much from nona in this list yet; mostly this one focuses on Harrow the Ninth info.

The River Sections in The Locked Tomb Series:

The Riverbank—seems to have many of the things you’d find on an actual real-world beach: silvery sand, dried wood, colored stones, long feathery plant stems and willow-like branches washed up on the shore, salt wind.

Epirhoic—Uppermost, near the banks. Where the lyctors plan to fight RB 7. Where folks always hope their ghost travels (“may your spirit travel high on the River” or smth), where Abigail assumes Isaac and Jeannemary’s spirits will travel given their youth and goodness ( “[They] never did anything wrong other than the time they tried to pierce each other’s tongues, should have travelled lightly through those waters.” —Abigail, htn 397).

Mesorhoic—middle, i guess. some ghosts.

Bathyrhoic—where the swiftest fight against a RB (8) took place. much fewer ghosts.

Barathron—very few ghosts sink this low. Jod says if he believed in sin, he’d say they died weighted down with sin, placing them nearer the trash space. deeper portions have pressure similar to water pressure in deep ocean (htn 494), but they never figured out what the River’s made of. Apparently there’s also rocks down here??? Because the Mithraeum gets caught on some rock face when dropped into the River (htn 496).

Stoma—Super hell? Opens & closes. Ferocious gravitational pull. Mouth to Hell. “A genuinely chaotic space—chaos in the meaning of the abyss as well as unfathomable…located at the bottom of the River. The Riverbed is studded with mouths that open at proximity of Resurrection Beasts, and no ghosts venture deeper than the bathyrhoic layer. Anyone who has entered the stoma has never returned. It is a portal to the place I cannot touch” (Jod, htn 240). Jod’s rubbish bin 🗑️. When a hole opens, it’s enormous with huge human teeth at the edges, each tooth “six bodies high and two bodies wide.” Gideon also describes it as “an eaten-away tunnel of reality.” (htn 495) Also, thousands of tentacle-y tongues come out (htn 496). Stoma is Greek for mouth, and though medically it normally refers to a hole in the abdomen used to expel waste, if we think of it as a mouth (which like, teeth + tongues sounds pretty mouthy), it could be compared to the mouth of a river, aka where it meets the ocean. Is “The Beyond” (in the next section) that ocean?

The River Beyond—what lies beyond, believed in thousands of years ago, but pooh-poohed now, and researched/believed in by Abigail Pent (htn 397), aka where spirits are attempting to cross to without being dragged to the depths of the River or going insane. Abigail believes there is a whole school of necromancy still undiscovered because of a lack of studying The Beyond (my capitals, not hers) and that something has gone terribly wrong in the River.—Personally, it feels like the system has been gummed up by necromancy, souls coming and going and causing problems when they really should have been going in one direction. Alecto asks Jod where he put all the children in ntn, so maybe normally those souls go directly back to their planets/nearest cosmic bodies? But killing the planets has made that impossible so now they’re stuck in a subspace Purgatory occasionally getting sucked into Hell ala The Good Place where OOPS! No one’s been able to get to Heaven for 10k years!

some miscellaneous thoughts about the river:

perhaps the river was never meant to exist at all? could the destruction of the solar system have created it? and what’s with its use as subspace travel? it’s plot convenient, sure, but is that a feature that can be expanded to all souls, living and dead? or is it the spiritual dimension being sucked into some kinda worm hole that was already in space or something? idk, it’s very weird as you can be there spiritually but not physically or you can be there physically too as evidenced by the very physical kinds of rocks and stuff as well as whole space ships getting dropped in. it’s certainly a fun take on the river styx, and i do think we’ll be going beyond the stoma in alecto. maybe it’ll really lean in to the greek mythology connection this time and we’ll get a bit of an orpheus and eurydice moment with a certain saddest girl in the world going in to rescue a certain goth nunlet?

#the locked tomb #tlt #harrow the ninth #htn #gtn #gideon the ninth #nona the ninth #ntn #the river #capitalization is a funky lil thing on this post #because it got written at different times and was all about the Current Vibe #tinks tlt notes

[tragicvictoriantears]

✞ The King’s Feast ✞

Urd Geales X FemReader!

✞ angst

✞ TW: gore, mentions of death, mentions of blood, reader’s death, impossible love, tragic ending.

❥ I wanted to delete this, thinking it’s not good enough but @theorphanprince made me post it. Her wish is my command. (.づ◡﹏◡)づ. I also believe I fell even harder for this man only by writing this bloody thing. I love a cold man with a warm heart.

【 I also want to mention that reader is a violonist. Urd is kind of a cruel ruler here. Oops. 】

Promise this is the last time I kill y’all ( or not ;) ).

『 Her nostrils almost bleed from the bitterly cold winter air. It’s a terrible blizzard outside. Snow is no joke in Moscow, even the toughest man, would think twice before stepping out poorly dressed in such a frozen land, which is now dominated by the red apocalypse. Even with the city full of monsters, evil, cruel people and vampires, the blizzard is still a problem.

But can a matter of life and death— like the apocalypse as an example — can compare to losing the ability to delight your own soul through pure talent? Of course not! Y/n would rather lose her head! Alas, she would rather end up beaten and humiliated, naked, on the stage of the great theater than this! Her heart becomes dominated by a cold similar to the one outside, as she looks desperately at her hands.

Both hands were missing a finger. The left hand was missing the middle finger, the other, was missing the index finger. The rest of the fingers were crushed unevenly. Some have no nails, some are still bleeding even through the thick bandages and all are completely paralyzed. I think I have described enough, it is clear that she can never play the violin again! A sad misfortune upon the artist who some time ago was immersed in her work! You can almost cry just by looking at her sitting motionless for hours, in the same shabby armchair, looking at her hands. Her face being devoid of any facial expression, empty. On the inside, in her inner space, we may even find some spider webs.

The devil who did this… or rather, the devils, were her opera colleagues. A terrible act of jealousy. All of this just because she was getting special attention from the King himself, Urd Geales! After the performance, a handful of artists forcibly held her down and crushed her fingers by repeatedly slamming a large oak door. The fire was burning terribly in the room, the heat was quite stifling especially from the commotion going on inside. In short, it was starting to stink. The screams and the smell of blood attracted attention, so fear grew in their hearts. Panicked that they had run into trouble, they started to argue for a minute. One of the devils — the most ambitious to hinder our artist — took a pocket-knife and cut as much as he could. Two fingers. One was enough if you ask me. If he had time back then, he would have cut them all. What a sadistic and disgusting act! Not only did y/n end up with flattened fingers, but he also wanted to cut them all off! Tell me then, readers, what is worse between a vampire and a human?! My soul fills with rage when I think about what they did to y/n!

If I'm angry, Urd is even more so! He has an enormous love for y/n. However, it is not certain whether it’s mutual. You see, this artist is very strange. However, her strangeness was the reason he fell for her! Since the first day they met, about a year ago. It was still winter. But the scenario does not take place in a room warmed by a vintage fire, but outside in the heart of the frost. A couple, back then, tried to escape from the theater. The truth is that they succeeded. Their bad luck was that just then the noble Urd was having his walk! Terrible luck, to run into the King of Russia when you’re trying to escape his authority! It is clear what happened to the couple, there is no point in telling you more. He handled it himself. The snow beside him was stained with blood. His cold gaze was directed at this morbid scenario. How much the blood stood out, just as his genius mind often stood out. Urd's intelligence is truly fascinating but also terrifying. Terrifying exactly like the blood on the snow. How ironic! Am I right?

" Human. Are you trying to escape too? “ and now his icy gaze lands on y/n, appearing out of nowhere and thinly dressed with a white sheepskin ushanka on her head, plus a pair of old gloves. Back then she was relatively new to that theater of horror, where people were tortured to entertain the bloodthirsty immortals.

" No. I do not wish to escape, your highness. “ Her voice was calm and the vampire's powers of deduction led him to the conclusion that she was telling him the truth. It was still a concern. Was she looking for him? "I want to perform alone at the show tonight. Of course, with your permission, your highness. "

" Human. " he pauses, a little tense. He doesn't understand. This woman is in front of him, the King! Maybe it’s blind courage or she’s just insane! The proud vampire that often displays a superior side to the others progenitors, decided to not bring up his status since it’s clear that she is aware of who is standing in front of her. But for God’s sake! Is she not even intimidated by the death scene in front of her? That irritates him the most. " Let’s get over the fact that you dare to talk to me, when I’m alone, you being unsupervised and without permission to see me and to talk to me. You, a mere weak human. Even dare to ask for a favour. Are you not able to notice what's in front of you? " with a gesture of his hand, he shows the corpses and the blood well embedded in the snow. Y/N just smiles as she exhales lightly against her lips and a steam from the cold comes out and disappears just as quickly.

" I'm only interested in my genius condition, my work. And your genius condition, your majesty, King Urd Geales, has drawn my attention ever since I came here. I want to ask this favor from you, because only you will truly understand my art. When it comes down to it, it's not death that scares me. What truly scares me it's not being able to reach my maximum human potential. So spilled blood won't turn me off the road. “ She bent down slightly, picking up a lump that splendidly absorbed the blood into its essence. The vampire's eyes widen, watching in amazement as she bites into the bloody snowball. She looks at him straight in the eyes, without a trace of fear, nothing can be found in her gaze. " I have tasted a little of your mind. May I carry it inside, as long as I live in this ephemeral body! What an honor! I already feel more inspired! Thank you! " that evening, she started performing alone. And ever since that evening, her incredible talent — oh! — both humans and vampires, all of Moscow was left shocked by the favorite violinist of the great progenitor, Urd Geales!

For Y/n, it does not matter if it is harmony on earth or apocalypse. Some people say that she doesn’t care if she is seen as a livestock, clown or a human being. She doesn’t even care if she is loved or not. Her whole purpose, all that mattered to her, was playing the violin. Urd’s strange puppy of a girl. She has no personality, no soul, no heart, no conscience, all of her was only art, absorbed only by her own genius! I think these are malicious gossip thrown at her though. Cursed be the gossip and man's ability to use it! Her passion is etheral, both pure and ambitious! But I do doubt that she noticed how Urd fell for this passion, her passion. It was completely ridiculous, he would never admit such a pathetic feeling like love for a livestock! But here is, after all. He was somewhat content to admire her only from a distance, like a sinner who cannot get too close to heaven. Sometimes he can lose his patience, he wanted more, not being able to control this wave of feelings but he calmed down everytime he watched her perform. Her work seems specially created for only the Gods to see and hear. Even the oldest skeleton would drop a tear involuntarily.

But this mystical bird, which was the favorite of the sun, has met its end now. She can no longer fly or sing, she is cursed to live as a normal person now. Like a banality. Maybe waiting for death to knock on her door. It wasn't easy for Y/N. The longer she remains in the room, the harder it’s for her to breathe from the cruel heat. Like she's doomed to melt like a candle to death. Until her skin starts to ooze and blister until all that's left is a puddle on a dusty rustic rug. A puddle made of her flash and endless tears.

She cannot accept such punishment! So when her lovesick vampire comes to pay her a visit, he notices how she and the violin are missing, the window wide open. Snowflakes aggressively coming in and almost extinguishing the fire since the fireplace is placed close to the window.

At first, he wanted to call for help, make a fuss, ordering the servants to look everywhere for the woman he was blindly in love with. However, as mentioned earlier, Urd owns a great intelligence. It didn't take him long to find where she is. In fact, y/n had been waiting for him there. Leaning against the tree, her broken violin by her side — before her escape, it was intact, perhaps she thought of dragging the instrument with her — she smiled numbly at him. She looked like a dead woman. Ugh! Her lips were blue, her eyelashes fluttered from time to time, and they were covered with heavy snow. Her eyes no longer sparkled like before. She is wearing a white nightgown, far too thin for this scenario. There was blood on her lap from the bandages she tried to remove. The fingers were the first to frostbite, but she can’t feel that anymore, since they are paralyzed. Oh, and how she used to take care of them during winter! Her priceless fingers! Always wearing her expensive gloves.

The man wants to come closer but is stopped by y/n’s voice. “ I don't want to become a vampire. I refuse such a nonsense. " silence fell. The blizzard suddenly subsides. Geales stubbornness is finally showing, he kneels in front of her, tearing with his claws the white material from her pale neck, like he lost all of his control! "I said I refuse! " she shouts at him with her remaining strength, making him stop. " Everything left from my work… will disappear if I become immortal. I wanted to excel as a human, to prove what a human being could do. I've been aiming for this for as long as I can remember! Better dead than to be subjected to hell! Please, don't destroy what I have left, my love...". Oh my! Maybe the feelings were mutual in the end. But her goals were always first on the line! The curse of being in love with an obsessed artist!

His hands, gripped by anger, clutch her shoulders. His eyes tremble like he’s about to cry! Hard to believe at first, but Urd is quite sensitive, especially when it comes to y/n. “ Did you… somehow… want me to come here, to grant you a wish? " the woman's frozen and satisfied smile is enough of an answer.

"You always have an extraordinary power of deduction. That’s why I like to always ask small favors from you. What a shameless woman I am! Giving you no attention and still crying for your help! But I do not have enough time for this conversation. Forgive me and please, lay me down nicely on the snow. " her words is his command. Urd’s hand gently takes her head, the other holds her waist tightly and slowly places her on the snow.

“ And now? “

“ Please feast upon my heart! “ It made sense. They are in the place where they first met a year ago. And back then she feasted on the snow full of the blood he spilled, eager to keep a small part of him in her. " Even if I die, at least I know I'm going to put the seed of my genius in you, so it will never go away. Because my art was made with a big heart and love beyond measure! Only you, who love me, can save what drains from me into nothingness. "

On the day when the blizzard had stopped, in the distance, Moscow could watch with horror — or simple curiosity — as The King of Russia, their feared king, snatched from the body of a beautiful woman, her heart. Holding it like he just picked a fresh juicy fruit. Blood flowed like a waterfall between his long fingers. The heart still beating, he grips it tighter to make sure it won't slip. Urd could feel every vein. Pff! He has done this countless times but now it feels like his heart was ripped away too. Realizing that their love was impossible from the start.

The difference was that y/n realized that before him. In order to avoid this suffering… in order to avoid a tragedy for both of them, she distracted herself with her goals until she became addicted to it. The Second Progenitor could never be her first priority but she did had a small reserved space in her for him.

What a way to die! On verge of death, watching your lover eat your heart out. Biting off the organ with an angry expression, the fangs went in smoothly as if it’s biting into an apple!

❝ That’s the King’s feast! ❞

That’s what Muscovites say. 』

#urd geales #urd #urd geales x reader #fanfiction #fan writings #vampirecore #vampire #vampirism #vampiric #owari no seraph imagines #owari no seraph angst #angst #owari no seraph #owari no seraph x reader #seraph of the end #urd geales x reader imagines #urd geales x reader scenario #urd geales scenario #urd geales x you

[nancypullen]

I Lied.

I didn’t mean to, and you’d think that after blogging here for sixteen years I’d know better than to say “back tomorrow!”.  That’s just asking for life to get in the way of what you’d rather be doing, right?  So life got busy, but in good ways, and now I’m back a couple days later than promised.  Oops. Since the last post we’ve celebrated Father’s Day and this guy was king for a day.

I thanked him for the two babies that look just like him and we all pitched in and gave him a kayak.  He enjoys drifting down questionable waterways (think bugs and snakes) and took it out that very afternoon.

There has been no word on the Federalsburg python, so I request proof of life photos when he’s out.  The spots where he’s paddling look like python paradise.  No thank you.

The night before Father’s Day we’d gathered to celebrate with the Edgewater gang.  I have to say that Tyler is the finest father I’ve ever seen.�� Patient, kind, fun, devoted -  he’s the daddy that every little girl deserves.  I think our Little Miss knows that she’s got the best daddy in the world.  She brought this home from school.

Okay, okay, before I get too emotional, let’s move on.  I thought it was funny when I asked Mickey what he’d like for a special meal on Sunday. He started pondering, then he asked for beef bulgogi with (insert dreamy look and emphasis) “real rice”.  Poor guy, I use cauliflower rice in our taco bowls, our lettuce wraps, pretty much anything that involves rice.  I strive to make our meals mostly veggie, with lean proteins.  I’m trying to keep him alive and he’s dreaming of “real rice”.  I laughed and promised him whatever he wanted.  He eventually decided he’d rather have steaks on the grill, a baked potato, and some roasted green beans.  Talk about a man’s meal! We rarely eat red meat so I figured one day wouldn’t kill him.  I even baked an angel food cake and sliced up some enormous fresh strawberries to top it.  By sundown I felt like I never wanted to eat again. BUT...the blog post that I promised a few days ago was about recipes, so here we go. It’s summer and no one wants to spend a ton of time in the kitchen. Both of these recipes are a one pan, thirty minutes (ish) meal. They both offer big flavor and minimal clean up. What more do you want?  Sadly, I failed to take a decent amount of pics while preparing these, so you may have to use your imagination a bit.  I normally like to show the process, but since these are quick and easy - no harm done, right?

First, Sheet Pan Chicken Fajitas. This honestly couldn’t be easier.

Preheat your oven to 425 and grab some bright peppers and an onion.  I used a red, a yellow, and an orange pepper, and I had a Vidalia onion handy. Slice those up.

Next you’ll need about 1.5 pounds of chicken.  I used chicken breast.  Slice that up as well. Now you could just toss all of this onto the sheet pan, but I put my chicken in a bowl and mixed it with 3 tablespoons of taco seasoning (that’s equal to one packet).

Coat it really well, you want that flavor!  Now spread your sliced veggies on the sheet pan (if you’re not using parchment paper or a silicone mat, lightly oil that sheet pan!) and throw your chicken right on top.

At this point I sprinkled more taco seasoning on the whole thing.  I also added some minced garlic.  I just use the stuff in a jar, I’d say I used the equivalent to two cloves. That’s it. Pop that into your hot oven for 15-20 minutes.  While it’s cooking wrap some flour tortillas (you didn’t think I was going to make tortillas, did you??) in foil and slide them into the oven for the last five minutes of your cooking time. EASY PEASEY. When you remove your yummy fajita filling from the oven you could squirt it with lime juice and sprinkle chopped cilantro over it (I didn’t have limes or cilantro handy, but I will the next time!)  It really is the perfect finish.  Fill your tortillas, top them with whatever you like - sour cream, cheese, pico de gallo, etc.  Do it your way.  Any way you tweak it, you’re still out of the kitchen in a half hour.   Next, we have Eggroll In a Bowl.  I’d seen this recipe all over Pinterest on Keto boards, Weight Watchers boards, and Quick & Easy boards.  Those are all tempting to me. It’s basically eggroll filling without the crisp and tasty wrapper.  I looked at several versions and then took an inventory of what I had on hand, and did it the easy way.  I’m a fan of easy.  For example, if a recipe calls for grated ginger, I have a tube of ginger paste in the frig that packs the same punch.  Minced garlic? I’ve got a jar in the frig.  You get it. This recipe also called for ground pork (more common for eggrolls) but I used ground turkey and it was delicious.  Here we go.  You’ll need: 1 lb ground turkey 1 sweet onion, diced 1 Tbsp sesame oil 1 Tbsp rice vinegar 2 tsp minced fresh garlic (I used my jar) 1 tsp ground ginger (I used my paste) 1/4 cup low sodium soy sauce 1 16oz bag dry coleslaw mix (shredded cabbage and carrots) 1 Tbsp Hoisin sauce  2 green onions, thinly sliced You’ll start by browning your ground meat in a large skillet over med-high heat. Once the pink is gone, toss in your diced onion, the sesame oil, and the rice vinegar.  The sesame oil is what will give your dish that wonderful, nutty, uniquely Asian flavor. Cook that, stirring, until the onion is tender.  Add the garlic, ginger, soy sauce, hoisin, and the coleslaw to the skillet.

Then just cook for another 5 to 7 minutes until the cabbage is wilted. THAT’S IT.

When it’s ready, you can top with sliced green onions, even a sprinkle of sesame seeds if you’re so inclined. It’s so yummy!  I wasn’t sure if the mister would be a fan and he loved it.  I failed to take a photo after plating it, but here’s a picture from one of the bazillion Pinterest recipes.  

By using the prepared ingredients like I did, the ginger paste, the pre-minced garlic, this dinner comes together fast. Like twenty minutes. I measure my ingredients out before I start and just toss them in as needed and this is a snap. I think the next time I make it I’ll add some extra matchstick carrots. I think it could use more. But it’s still delicious, and so quick and easy. Serve either of these quick dinners with some cool summer melon chunks and that’s a complete meal. Last, but not least, have you tried chili crisps yet? I’m addicted.  I use them on just about everything, but my favorite way to use them is to start my day with a bang.  Scrambled eggs, avocado toast, whatever - add some chili crisp and take it to the next level.   This is the brand I use.

I buy mild because I’m not trying to start a fire, just enjoy a little zip.  Here’s the Mr. Bing description of their chili crisp.

I don’t care if they say it’s made with goat toenails and tree bark, it’s delicious. This was my brunch a couple of days ago.  One slice of grainy bread, smashed avocado mixed with a shake of Everything Bagel seasoning, a poached egg, and plenty of chili crisp.

I get hungry just looking at those photos. It’s so tasty! As I was grabbing those pics off my phone I giggled when I saw this one.

That’s just a taco bowl, but there’s that cauliflower rice that apparently makes Mickey feel deprived. It’s one of my favorite things to eat!  Guess I could start making a little bowl of “real rice” for him.  Or he could adapt.  Poor guy.   Another funny capture by the Ring doorbell.  I made him stand on the porch so I could snap a pic of him on Father’s Day.  We look like a couple old farts. But there he is, just doing as I asked. He knew resistance was futile. 

The camera in that doorbell has a sort of fisheye effect and warps things.  Or maybe I do have a giant left arm. Anywho, that’s what’s been shaking around here. I won’t promise to be here tomorrow, but I will try to be.  I’ve got a couple of fun things to share and I need to sort through pictures.  I’ve been working on a couple of cards too, trying to build an inventory.  Here’s one of the latest, I haven’t placed her on a card yet

Isn’t she a hoot?  I’ve found a wonderful new resource for my dead people, loads and loads of photos, so I’m having fun picking out winners. I predict long, enjoyable hours spent with my deceased friends.  I give them back stories while I work with them.  That’s Darla.  She’s from Philly, she’s got a heart of gold but runs the deli counter at Wegman’s with an iron fist. Don’t tell her how to slice the meat. She’s a bowling champ and met her second husband, Eddie, at a charity bowling tournament that raised money for at-risk donkeys. Some donkeys never adapt to farm life and Darla thinks they should be able to pursue their dreams. What? Too much time on my hands? Me? Probably.

I’ll see you soon. Until then, stay safe, stay well, follow your dreams. XOXO - Nancy

[rose-bookblood]

"i swear i love you" she says, knowing full well the scene will rip my heart out

how dare you Rose. how dare you

jk

but you owe me some fluff :( some domestic comfort fluff or something. idk you'll come up with something I'm sure

let your characters breathe a little

(love you too!)

(@ink-fireplace-coffee)

It's because I love you that I want to make you feel ✨emotions✨

I scoured every corner of the BBtS and RWR files and apparently I've already posted all the fluff content (which amounts to maybe two scenes)?

So here's some freshly written domesticity just for you <3 A little gift to keep you company and hopefully cheer you up despite the cold!

Set during the last chapter of BBtS book 1. For context, Evelyn and Lily are off having a meeting with the Thirteen (the, y’know, leaders of the country. No biggie), and this is what the rest of the gang is doing off-screen. Also, my first time writing from Andrew’s POV, for some reason.

CW: food

The door flew open and Andrew almost had a heart attack. He managed to keep his grip on the pan and shot a warning glance behind his back.

“Please, we’re cooking!”

“Sorry!” trilled Cecilia’s voice. “Just came to check how you’re doing. The ferry is supposed to dock in five minutes.”

“I’m aware.” Andrew sautéd the broccoli and feta cheese in the pan, then covered it with the lid and bolted to the table in the middle of the kitchen, where a tray full of vegetables, one with various dips, one with slices of bread, and Serena, waited. “Don’t worry, we are perfectly on schedule. Jeremy, can you turn off the stove under the pan?”

Jeremy, crouched in front of the oven, snapped their fingers and the fire went out. “I think the brownies are ready.”

“Crunchy crust but soft middle?” Andrew asked, while he grabbed a knife and started chopping zucchini and cherry tomatoes.

“Yeah.”

“Then set the temperature to the minimum and you can drain the pasta in” – he checked his phone – “three minutes. Taste it first, of course.”

“Aye, captain.”

Andrew quirked an eyebrow in their direction, but continued his work and mixed the vegetables with lettuce, walnuts and peas, then set the bowl aside. Out of the corner of his eye, he followed Serena as she took the tray of dips and brought it to Cecilia, who regarded her with a perplexed look.

“What are these for?”

“The bread and focaccia that are waiting in the other oven.”

“Andrew,” called Cecilia, “did you ask the cooks to use the kitchen because you’re planning on feeding the entire academy?”

“I’m planning” – he paused to fish a packet of smoked salmon, one of cured ham, one of salami and one of scamorza slices from the fridge – “on feeding eight of us and Evelyn, who counts double.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” chimed Serena.

“You haven’t seen the delivery bills from anime night.”

“Hello!”

This time, the door opened with enough force to hit the wall. Victoria, and Annabelle behind them, winced at the sound.

“Oops.” Victoria closed the door gently and put the enormous picnic basket they were carrying on the table. “We brought the basket, the blanket,” – a plaid cloth hung on Annabelle's free arm – “and some beverages. Which are in the basket. I guessed Evelyn would be in charge of the water.”

Andrew finished assembling the tartlets, then turned to the sink to wash his hands and, still dripping water, brushed a rebellious lock from his forehead. “Great. A couple of minutes and we’re done.”

“Can I have a box for the pasta?” asked Jeremy from the stove.

Despite the crutch, he seemed to have no difficulty sautéing the pasta in the pan with the cheese and broccoli sauce. Andrew offered him the box and Jeremy proceeded to pour the steaming pasta in it. When he turned, Annabelle took his place and placed a kiss on Jeremy’s cheek.

At the table, Serena, Victoria and Cecilia were playing a game of jenga trying to fit everything in the basket.

“Oh, shit.” Victoria facepalmed. “We forgot the plates.”

With a collective groan, they and Serena emptied the basket, while Cecilia retrieved the dishes and cutlery. On the other side of the room, Jeremy scrubbed the stove with a wet rag and Annabelle put the used pots in the dishwasher.

As he moved around the kitchen sprinkling oregano here and powdered sugar there, Andrew began making a mental checklist: pasta, salad, tartlets, bread, focaccia, dips, brownies for dessert...

“The cream puffs!”

He retrieved the tray from the fridge, then the chocolate cream filling. Victoria stared at the final product with wide eyes that screamed murder.

“Why in hell did I propose this picnic?”

“Because” – Serena accepted the platter Andrew was still holding and, a smile on her face, kissed Victoria’s temple with a sonorous smack – “you’re amazing and know we deserve to celebrate after what happened.”

Victoria tapped their index finger on their pursed lips, showing off a mock pensive expression. “Mmh... You could try and convince me better with a real kiss.”

Andrew and Serena chuckled at the same time. She set the cream puffs in the basket and cupped Victoria’s face with her hands, for once free of rings.

A loud claps startled everyone in the kitchen.

Cecilia glared at them. “The ferry has definitely docked by now. Let’s go.” She punctuated her words with a snap of her fingers. “You can make out later.”

Victoria sent her a annoyed look, but Cecilia was already outside the door.

“Come on.” Andrew grabbed the basket. “We don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Jeremy flipped the rag onto their shoulder. “I spent the last hours cooking for those two. They better be fucking thrilled anyway.”

A laugh rose in the kitchen and carried on in the hallway as they headed for the park.

Sorry this ended up being unnecessarily long lol (also it’s late). Hope you liked it, take care! <3

@ink-fireplace-coffee

Blue Below the Surface taglist: (for once I give you guys some actual content lmao) @tommie-hildebrandt @stormharbors @chaotic-queer-disaster @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @vellichor-virgo @lividdreamz

#my writing #writing excerpt #asks #blue below the surface #wip: bbts #oc: andrew lo raafat #oc: cecilia thorne ioveanu #oc: jeremy brown horse collins #oc: serena chukwu rashidi #oc: victoria jiménez fujihara #oc: annabelle takeda yamaguchi

[coffeeandritalin]

What goes on in my head while I watch dramas. Does anyone else experience all this while watching tv? (Super long post warning)

Questions and intrusive thoughts I have as I watch the first episode of Till the End of the Moon (Cang Yue Jin Ming).

Wait, is he just now showing up to the slaughtering or has he been supervising this whole time?

Ok, but for real. Why do the demons get all the cool stuff? Look at those steeds. Look at that enormous... carriage? platform? dias? party float?

Oh... he's leaving. So, he was supervising the slaughter and now he's moving on to the next slaughter location? Or were they just slaughtering the people that were around their home? Or did he drop by just so that his soldiers could send him off? Also, aren't the people sending him off his soldiers too? Why aren't they participating in the next slaughter?

My dude, why are you so pretty?

My lord, we've arrived. - Where were y'all before?

Intrusive thought: peacock.

*Directing his attention to the only thing that is lit up with an enormous force field shield thing for miles around* My lord, the Xiaoyao Sect is right over there. - Did this man not know where he was going when he set out? Does he really need her to point out the glowing target in the landscape of dreary clouds? If so, I am concerned for him.

Is his left-hand man ever going speak??

Getting information straight for myself: ok. So Gods are separate from immortals. One of the differences is that immortals still have mortal bodies?

The Xiaoyao sect's light went out, indicating they've been invaded. So were all of these sects like all hooked up to some sort of energy grid where if their shield goes down, the light goes out?

We found the Mirror of the Past. *Teleports for seemingly no reason beyond wanting to be taller and wanting to show off* Really, my dude?

Why is one dude Immortal Zhaoyou and one dude is Sect Leader Qu? Like Immortal Zhaoyou is framed as being the leader of the Xiaoyao sect, so why isn't he sect leader? Or has Sect Leader Qu not achieved immortal status?

Wait. What. Where did he teleport them to? Why was it necessary to teleport them to a different location? He chained up Immortal Zhaoyou upon teleportation. Why didn't he just chain up the rest of them?

Intrusive thought: Sect Leader Qu looks mixed with that hair and makeup. I wonder if he's mixed *too lazy to look up*.

Why is it necessary to fake bravado and then telepathically tell the other person to save their own hide? Like... your fake bravado words don't indicate Sect Leader Qu has a chance of winning, so why not just... i dont... i don't get it... Is now really the time to show off your telepathy skills?

And we're no longer using telepathy. I just...

Oh. I think left-hand man just talked. Yay for him!

Okay, but it took like significant time and effort for Sect Leader Qu to remove the shackle on Immortal Zhaoyou's right hand. How did the left one just magically come off? Are they synced so that when one comes off, the other one automatically opens too? Because that seems like a design flaw...

Wtf... if Immortal Zhaoyou is this strong how... was having his entire sect get annihilated in front of him not enough to activate super saiyan mode? But apparently protecting his bro is enough to activate super saiyan mode... got it... Also, like... Sect Leader Qu... should you... should you not maybe combine attacks with your friend to take out the enemy? Gonna assume he exhausted his energy breaking the chains.

Hmm... why is his right-hand woman discouraging him from using the Bone Refining Seal? Is this going to become a plot point later?

Ok but what's the history between these two? Why is Sect Leader Qu straight up willing to stand in the line of fire for Immortal Zhaoyou? Or is Immortal Zhaoyou someone special in the Immortal Sect world?

Oop. Time for the lovers to meet.

Oh no! They got the mirror thing! Ok but why was it on left-hand man and not on demon god? Especially since demon god is the one who's standing far, far away. That was just bad decision making on their part.

Also, Immortal Zhaoyou is a pickpocket, and I find that hilarious.

Whop. Translation error on Viki. That should be niece, not daughter. Also... so that means these two dudes are brothers, but they're from different sects? Did they just each start a sect? Or was Immortal Zhaoyou actually from Hengyang sect and was just helping to protect Xiaoyao sect? (*Trying to look up some info without spoiling myself*) Ok... that didn't help much.

Where did she suddenly find a divine weapon? Why didn't Sect Leader Qu bring this with him knowing he was going to meet the demon god?

It's you. - what? who? how?

Like they really went their separate ways like it wasn't obvious that Tantai Jin would go after the one person who holds the one item he wants. Like... dad... uncle... y'all kind of fail... a lot.

Oh the cut on his face is already healed. Demon god magic.

Of course. She has some unknown power from within that protects her on the brink of death.

Wait. Her surname is Li. Sect Leader Qu's surname is Qu. So logically, Sect Leader Qu is not her dad. But Immortal Zhaoyou is for sure her uncle. So if Immortal Zhaoyou is from Xiaoyao Sect (and she has no blood relation with Sect Leader Qu), then Li Susu is from Xiaoyao sect. Since she was somewhere else, I assumed she was at Hengyang sect and therefore a Hengyang sect disciple. Maybe Immortal Zhaoyou just dropped her off there like daycare to keep her protected? Also, then what is the relationship between Immortal Zhaoyou and Sect Leader Qu?

Ok so the Mirror of the Past exists so that the Chosen One can go back and basically influence Tantai Jin toward light instead of darkness. But the concept of this story is that she influences him through their love for each other. So if Tantai Jin's story gets altered so that he becomes good, is there then a vacuum that gets created and filled by a different demon god candidate? If so, then does that person get a different Chosen One - like who the Chosen One is depends on who the Demon God is? (Because earlier they mentioned that all the gods died in order to kill the first Demon God and Tantai Jin came in and become the new Demon God, so one can assume that the Demon God position is one that will continue to be filled be other people.) OR! Is the Mirror of the Past thing something specific to Tantai Jin's edition of the Demon God? And other Demon Gods would require other methods to take down?

"But as the demon fetus, he was already accumulating strength of the demon god's revival." - So was he, in a way, destined to be bullied so that he can consume the resentment necessary to become the Demon God? That's sad. (Also, that kind of makes me think of Izark from From Far Away.)

Okay, but for real, disembodied voice. Who are you? Are you relevant to the ongoing plot? Are we going to find out who you are later?

"But if he fails to become a demon back then, today's destruction wouldn't happen." - So if we prevent Tantai Jin from becoming the Demon God, are there just no more demon gods from there on out? Are the demons unable to make another demon fetus? (Like, this aspect of the storyline very much gives me Antichrist vibes. Is there only one Antichrist? Like if you get rid of them, they're gone once and for all? No possibility of them being rebirthed again? (Note: I do not know much about the Antichrist beyond the Good Omens tv show.)) In which case, does this imply that the previous Demon God who was defeated by the gods created this demon fetus in preparation for his downfall/as he was dying?

Oh! Shixiong! Is there going to be a love vector here between these three? oh... he got stabbed... maybe not? oh but if she goes back in time, he would still be alive too. ... so yeah, is there going to be a love vector here between these three?

You... you... you jumped off... a... floating rock. To kill him. ... *pinches nose bridge*. One of you is an immortal. One of you is a demon god. Both of you are capable of floating and moving in air. I... just... Like does Gongye shixiong have a skill that allows him to just deadweight like Kirby does in Super Mario Bros? Otherwise, like... how is this going to work? HE CAN FLOAT/FLY!

Wait, Sect Leader Qu seemed very concerned for Li Susu and went to catch her. Why do they have different surnames? Do children take their mothers' surnames in this universe? Or how do names work in this universe?

I'm assuming Jiwu is Gongye shixiong.

Father confirmed. Questions about the surnames stand.

Did... did she just jedi mind-trick her father with her huadian? Or wtf just happened there?

Why... why do the "good guys" always attack the overpowered "bad guy" one by one?

"Today, each person of Hengyang Sect will defend Mingwu Hall to our deaths. The barrier won't be broken until the very last of us dies." *sets up extremely cool and impressive-looking barrier**barrier immediately gets broken* - ok... this is supposed to be a very serious and intense moment, but I laughed.

Look... I know we need to show all these deaths to make things sad and give her a strong reason for hating Tantai Jin, but... girl. get going!

Also, why did Immortal Zhaoyou suddenly keel over? Like if Tantai Jin was able to to target people inside the hall that he can't see, why didn't he also target Li Susu? Did he keel over from over-exhaustion from doing this time-traveling seal? Oh. He didn't target her because she has his mirror... probably.

Ok, so this seal apparently can still work and activate even though the person who cast it is dead.

Tantai Jin is repeatedly and hilariously passive when it comes to just observing what's going on around Li Susu instead of just taking her out. Like, he just watches as the Mirror activates from Li Susu's blood earlier. Now he just watches as this (as far as to him) mysterious seal surrounding her activates. Like... my man...

I can't believe they used this song X-D

It's not Tantai Jin is it?

Nope. It was not Tantai Jin. But why is Gongye Jiwu here now? oh... before he became an immortal... oooh so this would mean Gongye Jiwu knew Tantai Jin before Tantai Jin became the demon god.... interesting. Oooor maybe not. Man this show got me spinning in circles.

Wait... if she's already married, why is she still living with her parents?? Is she just visiting? Oh... question change. Why is he living with them?

Good thing there are these evil bones that prevent her from killing him immediately and instead give her time to get to know him and fall in love with him.

Why is everyone in love with the elder sister? Seems sus.

Oh. Tantai Jin backstory time. That's why he's living with them. But still... shouldn't her parents have gifted her a manor then? I guess maybe in case they're worried he'll attack her, or maybe she requested to stay home so she can keep an eye on her sister and her crush. Also strange that the younger one married before the older one... Also if the sixth prince likes the elder sister, what's stopping them from getting married unless the elder sister isn't interested in the sixth prince?

Guess we'll find out... iiiiiiin episode two!

#till the end of the moon #cyjm #coffee watches cdramas #cyjm ep 1

[ask-king-bandee-and-sir-kirby]

Butterflies Lay Upon Our Heirlooms Chapter 4

I forgot to post this here oops! Chapter under the cut

A blanket of ash covered the soft grass of Dreamland, Bandee had only moments to try and rationalize the situation before he heard a mighty roar erupt, they turned fast to meet eyes with the beast. It was a mechanical monster that ran off of ancient magics and technology. Its face was in the shape of a boar, charging towards him and his friends, fire ablaze on its tusks, but it wasn't a boar. It had massive claws like that of a bear to cut through mountains and strong hind legs to propel it quickly through the field it had been found despite its enormous size.

Bandee sprinted away from the beast as fast as they could to try and assess the situation before it dawned upon them that they were reliving the same nightmare they had for the past two years. Welding their eyes shut they screamed at themself to awaken from this cursed dream, alas their wish wouldn't come true as they heard the loud stomps of the beast running towards them.

They quickly dodged out of the way, falling on their back in the process and finding themself unable to move, unable to shut their eyes, and unable to scream.

Yes, it was this moment when the former king of Dreamland would pick them up, put them back on their feet unaware of the monster praying on such a distraction. Bandee saw as it got closer and closer, claws out-strenched to slice straight through them both.

But that didn't happen, at least not to the two, instead a flash of blue would come between the king and the beast, shielding them with his sword and body.

Next, Bandee saw a wash of starlit blood shower over them as a thud hit the ground.

Their only reaction was an ear piercing scream that could be heard from miles away.

.

Bandee awoke screaming, albeit not as loud as the one in his dream, but his tears littered their faces as it clouded their vision. They turned their face into their pillow to try to get that image out of their head but it only made it worse. It hurts. Their head hurt from all the screaming they've done.

After a good few minutes of their panic, they would slowly calm their breathing, it was just a nightmare… One they've been having far too often for their liking. Sometimes it was worse than this. Sometimes it twisted the gruesome scene further. They didn't want to think about it.

They hesitantly opened the blinds to their bedroom, the moon was still high.. They couldn't go back to sleep. Soon they heard a knock at their door and a hesitant "Your majesty?" coming from the outside. Great, they must've alerted one of the night guard waddle dee's with their screaming..

Taking a deep breath and preparing what to say in their mind, they quickly wipe their tears away on their blankets and get up to answer the door.

They opened the door to as they guessed, a very concerned Waddle Dee. "Sire, are you alright? I heard screaming.. Did you have a nightmare again?" They'd ask, avoiding eye contact with the king.

"I am alright, you really don't need to worry about me!" They exclaim, forcing a smile. "I've fought much tougher battles than those of my mind I can assure you."

This did nothing to soothe the worries of the waddle dee, "But sire you were screaming an awful lot! Your eyes are all puffy-"

"I really do appreciate your concern, but I'm positive I'll be fine now that I'm awake."

The Waddle Dee bowed their head "If you insist.. Take care of yourself, your majesty." They walked off into the dark halls of castle Dedede, Bandee closed their door soon after they left.

Well. That could've been better handled. They throw themself onto their bed with a groan and try to fall back asleep. But they can't, not with the thoughts in their head running wild and their heart still racing. Why did they even have a nightmare? Like outside of the obvious answer that is trauma, isn't the fountain of dreams supposed to prevent them?

Surely, something must be wrong with it to give them such harsh nightmares- and so frequently. But how late was it? A quick glance at their bedside alarm clock would reveal that it was about 3AM! What a good time to sneak out of the castle and check up on it. Bandee thought amused that they were actually going to go through with this.

Rising from bed once more (for the last time hopefully) they quickly get dressed, holding the royal robes close to them for comfort they make their way out of their room as quietly as possible and attempt to navigate the castle without alarming any waddle dee's. Soon enough they were in the clear to head to the fountain. Hopefully they wouldn't have wasted time going there, but they thought, it's better than sleeping again and returning to the nightmare wasn't it?

.

The fountain was a beautiful sight to behold, with it's iridescent waters that beheld the dreams and hopes of all Dreamland, and the star rod once used to defeat the nightmare wizard stood atop it proudly. It appeared to be just fine, though they soon realized they were not the only one visiting the fountain tonight.

Bandee would turn around to see Kirby, who gave him a sympathetic smile upon realizing why they were there. "Same nightmare?" he'd ask.

"Same nightmare…" Bandee muttered, it was almost embarrassing how easily Kirby could tell, but then again this is the same Kirby he's spent so much of his life with- especially in the time after that fateful day. They guess they're glad Kirby can read them so easily, they just wish the opposite was true.

Kirby would walk closer to the fountain and take a seat, motioning for Bandee to do the same next to him.

"What about you?" Bandee asked.

With a shrug Kirby looks elsewhere to the night sky, contemplating his answer. "I just couldn't sleep tonight, and the fountain's a really calming presence."

Something told Bandee that this had something to do with their encounter earlier at the party. Of course however, Bandee wouldn't pry about it. He did not want to revisit that conversation, ESPECIALLY after having such a brutal nightmare.

Instead the two would sit together, enjoying the peace and calming sound of the fountain of dreams waters spilling over. It was peaceful, just what the two needed after a rough night.

"Hey," Bandee turned to Kirby, "I found a bunch of photo albums Dedede used to keep.. Wanna look through them with me later?"

Kirby smiled, "That sounds like a lot of fun!" his voice was more cheerful now. Bandee stood up at last.

"Well, come over when you're ready-" they pause. They were going to be really busy today weren't they? Also they forgot about the fountain- it looks fine. They need to head back to the castle before anyone realizes they're gone.. "During the weekend."

They both laugh, "I'll be sure to be there at the least expected time to throw you off guard!" He explained with a smile. Bandee laughed again, then nodded, slowly heading back to where he came from.

When he gets back he is facing a hoard of worried Waddle Dee's.

#kirby #kirby au #kirby gijinka #bandana dee #bandee #fanfic #kirby fanfic #butterflies lay upon our heirlooms #character death #but not really because it's a dream and the character already died but ya know it's on screen

[shortkidenergy]

ohh i really shouldn't post my thoughts on Tommy, Tubbo and Dream's dsmp finale because looking at other people's posts about it is kind of making me feel bad, but perhaps my favorite thing about the dream smp this whole time (that I don't think was lost at all in the finale) is that the inconsistency that comes with it being a minecraft roleplay allows for a fair amount of variety in interpretation.

so i want to propose one reading on the ending, particularly in terms of the common ground that Tommy and Dream seem to find.

cw for canon-typical discussions of suicidal thoughts and attempts.

(bear in mind, I was watching both Tommy and Tubbo's streams simultaneously, and I've gotta say Tubbo and Jack screaming over nukes perhaps distracted me a bit from the philosophical debate happening on the other screen. so if i missed something or didn't get it quite right. oops. but ive got to be honest especially in this fandom, i have a lot more fun when i don't worry too much about being accurate to the source material. there are so many conflicting things that happen (due to it being a roleplay that is sometimes scripted, sometimes improvised, and written and performed by over two-dozen gamers on a minecraft server) that i think part of the fun is picking and choosing what to accept as your own personal canon, and what to leave in the hundreds of hours of live streams)

when Tommy and Tubbo escape from the lava pit thingy, Tommy is hopeless. he has lost greatly, and everything he has left to lose is at risk of being taken away from him. so when Tubbo reveals the nuke to him, he sees only one option.

now you could view it as a pure act of heroism. of Tommy sacrificing himself for the good of everyone else. but i think it's worth noting that he seems almost strangely at peace with the idea of dying. while Tubbo is flip-flopping between accepting this as the only way and trying to come up with something, anything else. Tommy is convinced that this is the only way out. he makes his way around the server, saying his last goodbyes. he tells Tubbo his wishes for what to do after his death. he wants Tubbo to be happy. he thinks, genuinely, that Tubbo will be happier once he's gone.

which sounds a lot, to me, like the Tommy that built that tower. like the Tommy that drank invis. and wanted to disappear.

so. and here's the controversial part. what is the thing Tommy and Dream found common ground on in the prison? what is the thing that made Tommy regret the plan he and Tubbo had set?

life. both he and Dream wanted to live.

and here I want to note the part where Dream kills Tommy, and Tommy begs to be brought back. and it's only *after* that that Tommy has a change of heart. that he starts to think that maybe there could have been another way.

and i want to make it clear that that consensus would have been REALLY FUCKING HARD to come to. Dream would have to undergo some Incredibly Deep Psychological Changes in order for the two of them to be able to exist in the same world. and it would take an enormous level of trust and sacrifice for Tommy to be able to walk around knowing that the man who put him through so much pain was still out there.

but. the important part is that in that moment, Tommy (who loves Wilbur even after all of the ways he hurt him, who jokes around with Jack who tried to kill him, who wants Sam to come to their new nation despite getting him trapped and killed through his own rigidity) Tommy (who's greatest strength is coming up with a plan and bringing people together with his words) Tommy (who can be thoughtless and entitled, but at the end of the day will give up anything for the people he loves) Tommy. thinks there might be another way.

a way that means he doesn't have to die.

and so. I wonder. if that moment of regret. if that apology. has less to do with seeing eye-to-eye with Dream. has less to do with forgiveness or understanding. and has more to do with choosing to live. choosing to keep fighting. choosing to try to find another way.

but there isn't enough time. it's too late.

unless it's not.

unless they get another chance to try again. start over.

simpler this time.

#dsmp spoilers #dream smp finale #i think endings are really hard #in general #u are absolutely allowed to have a different opinion than me #like i said i think it being a minecraft roleplay leaves A LOT up to the viewer's interpretation #so if your take is very very different that's completely valid and i'm not going to disagree with you #just wanted to put that out there #im not saying anyone else's interpretation is wrong #this is just mine :)

[snezandsickheadcanons]

oops forgot to post this one

Sicktember Day 17: Fainting

Character: Gil

“He collapsed?” Ritsuka gasped, then turned to give a worried look to Mash.

They’d managed to recruit Quetzalcoatl to their side and had just returned to Uruk. Nothing seemed terribly wrong, and yet there was a feeling of dread seeming to hang over the city.

Siduri had found them right before they reached the ziggurat. She was clasping her hands together after she told them the news, looking weary and downtrodden. “I had told him to go and take a rest,” she continued, “and when I returned he’d already passed out and fallen off the throne. Not sleeping, but completely unconscious. He still hasn’t awoken…”

She led them back into the ziggurat, past the throne room and into the king’s chambers, where Ritsuka had never been before. The room was gorgeous, decorated everywhere with gold and lapis lazuli. A window with a view of the city was covered in a shimmering sheer curtain, casting colorful shadows across everything inside.

The bed was enormous. While the design of it looked similar to the one Ritsuka had been using, it was about three times as large. Its mattress of stuffed furs was covered in soft-looking sheets and more than a dozen pillows all delicately hand stitched with fine ornamentation.

And lying there on top of the bed, covered in a blanket, was the king. Ritsuka had never seen him without his crown, yet now it sat aside on a bedside table. Most of his clothes had been removed in fact, at least of what Ritsuka could see. His face was sickly pale, except for a bright red flush across his cheeks. The dark bags under his eyes Ritsuka swore they’d never noticed before were so pronounced, it was as if he was wearing makeup.

As they entered, Siduri rushed to go take the cloth across his forehead and re-wet it with water from a bowl by the bed, then placed it back onto him. “I don’t know how long he’s been feverish for,” she said, taking a step back from his unconscious body and clutching her hands together again. “I… there was no way of knowing beforehand…until he…”

“This shouldn’t happen,” Merlin muttered to himself. This was more serious than Ritsuka had ever seen him. “It can’t… Unless…” He approached the bed and stroked away some strands of hair away from Gilgamesh’s face. Then he said something else quietly enough that Ritsuka couldn’t hear it.  

“Mm…”

The collection of people around the room shot to attention as Gilgamesh made a small sound. He stirred, still breathing heavily and barely moving.

“Your…” Siduri stammered.

The king’s eyes blinked open.

“Your Majesty!”

Gilgamesh suddenly shot upright in bed, the wet cloth Siduri had placed on him mere moments ago falling to his lap. “What are you all doing here?”

“Oh, we uh…” Ritsuka began, looking back to Quetzalcoatl and Jaguar Warrior. “We just returned from Eridu. We got the Axe of Mardu—”

“Never mind that now,” Gilgamesh interrupted them, then turned to Siduri, who looked to be on the verge of tears. “What news is there of the front lines? I need today’s reports to the throne immediately.” He pulled off the covers and went to go to place his feet on the ground.

“Please, don’t get up!” Siduri cried. “You need to rest more. I can look over the reports, or I can even bring them to you here—”

“A bed is no place for a king to rule at war!”

Merlin, who looked back to his old self, shook his head and gave a playful sigh. “She’s right, you know. If you push yourself any more you really could die. We don’t want that, now do we?”

With an annoyed huff, Gilgamesh gave a wave of his hand. “There is simply too much to be done.”

“We can help!” Ritsuka piped in. “Back when we were earning your trust, we did a lot to help out around the city. We can help Siduri with handling the paper—er, tabletwork.”

“Hahaha, if you refuse to listen, I’ll simply have to use a spell to confine you to bed!” said Merlin cheerfully. “It’s only for a few days. Besides, we have one-third of the Three Goddess Alliance on our side now!”

“Sí!”

“Pleased to meowt you!”

Gilgamesh stared between them all for a moment, then scoffed. “Very well. I suppose my last day trip to the sea was not much of a vacation after all. I shall spend this time to rest my royal form back to its perfection.”

Everyone now in a much better mood than when they arrived, one by one they left the room.

***

All alone, Gilgamesh’s eyes shone with cold anger directed at nothing at all. He sat there, in bed, the fury rampaging through his body combining with his exhaustion, making him feel as if he might pass out all over. Truly, he felt his body growing weaker; fatigued, dehydrated, malnourished. But this was inexcusable. He had allowed himself to collapse and show weakness to his subjects while he still had breath left in his body.

When he’d awoken, he’d felt the burning desire to yell at those who’d seen him like this. But he didn’t even have time for anger. He lay back again and closed his eyes.

No, this would have to do.

#sicktember 2022

[enibly]

An hour and ten minutes of 120 minutes

Monday 4/1/24 --- 12:50 to 2 am

imperial drag -boy or a girl

the name feels so 70s but it’s def a 90s sounding song. Also I always want it to be more than it is but I think that’s unfair of me

blink 182 - josie

This one is basically “my girlfriend who lives in Canada” to me- I just don’t believe their gf is real even with the sourcing details. Also, should I watch vacation someday?

the clash -radio clash

Even though it’s a legendary classic, I still tend to forget it has as good a beat as it does. I want to listen to more Clash but wherever I do I feel existential guilt, like I’m being useless and soporific by not trying too live up to punk ideals

A flock of seagulls - I ran

I would have thought this was not quite avant-garde for 120 minutes, but that’s just the perspective of looking back at this song from 40 years later

morrissey - the last of the famous international playboys

One of the very few sonically bearable non-smiths Morrissey singles. Morrissey says he’s not naturally evil in this song but i dunno if I cam agree; there are few as consistently bigoted and selfish as him. On a side note I was rummaging through my room recently and I found my old enormous Morrissey/Johnny Marr poster… god I loved that poster so much back in the day. I loved the smiths so much back in the day 🥲

The damned -anything

Uh, kinda forgettable within the rest of this lineup. Not awful when I’m hearing it but I forget it instantly

david Bowie - ashes to ashes

A song and video I understand and fall for a little more every time I encounter it. I wish I had more to say about it but nothing I can say can evoke what ashes to ashes feels like

Erasure - love to hate you

The mv that made me want to make this post. I really like this!!! I’ve always been drawn to the lush voice of Erasure’s singer, and this is combining him with a playful and energetic song that uses the best sample of all time (i call it that cause it’s one that never sounds ugly, out-of-place, or cliché despite being insanely famous and commonly used. It’s like a magic sample). And this video is excellent as well- if I made an mv this is what it would be like: strutting through the streets with a proudly partying entourage, performing in shallow water and historical buildings,

Cowboy junkies- sweet jane

Um, boring.

The rentals - friends of p

Ah, this is the kind of band I imagine is on when I see 120 Minutes is playing. It’s not my general style but I watched the whole thing with some fascination, so it’s doing something right. I like the violin bit at the end

Frank black -hang on to your ego

It’s Pet Sounds, baby! You can’t go wrong covering a song by Brian Wilson. I think I would enjoy having more covers on the radio. Maybe the resurgence of Fast Car can start that wave

ned’s atomic dustbin - grey cell green

For a few minutes I was transported to the 90s and everything was ok.

REM - orange crush

Well I’m currently in my 30s, aka my “loving REM” years, so I guess I’ve got my spine, I���ve got my orange crush.

the the - this is the day

Solid, relaxing. I like folk influences

front 242 - tragedy for you

Why do I feel like I remember this beat so vividly even though I don’t recognize this song? Maybe it’s cause their synth sounds the same as the one the Mighty Boosh used? I am Elecro Boy… I am Electro Girl…

Oop well I was hoping to go for 120 min of 120 minutes but Toni Braxton just appeared so it looks like we’re in 90s Nation now. Guess I’ll peace out for now ✌🏽

#music videos #liveblogging #mtv

[dashawfrostart]

This Week In "Time & Again" #11: Still Colouring, And Some Distractions

So... I have a few internet-posting goals for the close future. I know that I keep saying that all the time, but - since I'm an interwebs hermit, and I've been this way for, like, at least 10 years of my life now (and I have zero regrets 😁) - going online to post something takes an enormous mental effort from me. This is probably what happens when ageing, too. Every time I think about that, I just feel like those dogs from the funny videos who are being scolded for doing something their two-legged companions do not appreciate. So, basically and in a nutshell, this is my face when I think about going online to post stuff:

(source: https://makeagif.com/i/UyVZCW) And after all... why would I distract myself from work anyway? 😁 However, I really want more people to get acquainted with Lothar and Jeanny, and Edgar, and Winston, and Beatnik (oops, giant spoilers), and Daniel (oops, even more spoilers), and all of those other weirdos that our violent lovers meet on their strange path towards happiness (hopefully, because, truly, sometimes it's very difficult to say). So this is something that must be done eventually, so I will persevere😁💪 Rolling up my sleeves already!

Anyways, we know that Valentine's Day is coming! And I already have an artwork prepared to be uploaded very soon. Since in December last year I skipped a Christmas and New Years artwork, breaking my own good tradition and ever so slightly ruining a nice progression in the completion of my "2023 Pre-Christmas To-Do List", I figured I really should not delay with this one. And after all, everybody likes a little bit of spicy to set the mood for the upcoming Valentine's Day 😉 (and most of my Valentine's Day artworks are usually nothing short of "spicy" 😁 well, because they have to be that way).

I also made a totally random artwork, because I wanted to practice drawing certain something, a design element I would love to incorporate into my art style - so I came up with an idea to draw a parody of sorts. And it makes me really happy. It felt... rather refreshing. It gave me extra energy and happiness that I could use to continue working on the colouring for the actual chapter. Working so hard on the chapters of "Time & Again", I almost forgot how it feels to draw something random. Or something out of canon. Something simply for the fun of it. Many years ago most of my artworks used to be random and they were dedicated to random, various things and sometimes people. It was good. Now, since "Time & Again" to me is no less that a self-invented job (yeah, pretty much, for better or worse), I almost never do random funny and cute arts anymore, nevermind my greeting cards store had no updates from last year whatsoever... "Time & Again" might sound like a sort of obsession - but that is merely because I really, really, REALLY want to finish it up as soon as I can, because everyone should know what happened to Lothar and Jeanny and how they manage. Even if the confusion about the timelines still persists - but it's twice as fun this way! 😁

A fun observation: there's something in Lothar that I absolutely hate colouring! And the thing is absolutely essential to that particular dirtymouth individual! And the thing is... His glasses. Don't get me wrong! I love his glasses, the way they match his appearance, and that tiny bit of extra sexiness he magically acquires when wearing them. But dear goodness gracious, boy do I ever hate colouring them! 😤 It usually takes me at least 3 layers (lineart inclusive) to colour them, and then I have to arrange all the layers in the proper order. If the rest of the colours - including the skin and the clothing, but excluding special shiny/textured surfaces, if present - take me only one - ONE! - puny layer to make everything as it should be, then the glasses alone - that effing pathetic piece of... accessory! - take at least 2 layers of colouring. 3 with extra shine. Duuuuh. And they appear on every each panel with Lothar, because he wears them all the time. Geez, man! I hope sometime in the future that hot yet disgusting guy gets himself a pair of smart contacts with the built-in voice activated UI overlays. I'm sure he's rich enough to afford such a gimmicky thing. That will free me from a lot of extra work!.. (imagining things? entertaining my designer's hunger? foreshadowing? who knows?!?!;)))

... Which lead me to another one thought about the simplification of the colouring process. You see, with the colouring the way I do it, there's a lot of "automatic" work that is not really creative, one might say. I just need to fill the certain areas of the lineart with a certain colour and remove all the unfilled pixels afterwards... which is just a process of clicking, selecting areas and colours, and filling those areas with the right colours. And it's... kinda tedious. And monotonous. To be 100% fair, it's getting old fairly quickly. Now, shading and adding lighting effects is totally different. But filling the areas with the plain, flat colour prior to applying the shading... is incredibly "mechanical" to me. And my idea was... an AI program to do that. YES, YES, I KNOOOOW YOU'RE EITHER TURNING YOUR BACK ON ME NOW OR DOING THE ROBERT DOWNEY JR. MEME FACE after hearing (reading?) what I just said. I know the whole world just split into 2 groups of people who say either "AI yay!" or "AI nay!". Because, well, you see, human beings really enjoy disagreeing with each other, so there always has to be a reason (says I, cynically). My experience with AI is fairly limited as of now, but as a computer nerd - and a wife of yet another one computer nerd, for the full picture - the new technology mesmerizes me. I was shocked when ChatGPT named me the game I had trouble remembering the title of simply by my extremely vague (and partially wrong!) description - and it did it right off the bat, from the first try. I was utterly mind-blown. We've already heard a lot about AIs ruining the artists' works and yada yada, and we're not gonna touch this topic right now. But since AIs are capable of manipulation with the visual material, then why not teach it to automate the rather tedious processes in creating art while still keeping the essential "human" involvement intact? I would definitely use some nice program to automate the "select and fill, rinse and repeat" part of my work on Chapter 5 and potentially all the future chapters. An algorithm that would recognize the characters by their facial/bodily features and automatically colour them according to the colour scheme I created earlier (so, no random green hair if the character is blond, and no brown eyes if the eye colour must be blue, for example). Or something along the lines of that. Dammit, that would really make the work of the human artists so much faster whenever needed! I vote for this! I will hope from now on that somebody makes me a Krita extension with such a functionality now 😁

Deary me! I can't believe this actually happened! Sorta!.. I think this might be potentially the shortest blog post that I've written IN YEARS!.. Wowza! Apparently I can do that when I'm not trying, haha (but isn't it always this way?..😑 come to think of it, shopping works this way, too: when you're looking for something specific, you can never find it anywhere around!)

Sorry, no gifs today (aside from the funny dog one above). Moreover, when I looked into my screenshots folder, I have discovered that I did not take any this time while I've been working on the colouring like mad. This is sad, perhaps... So let me fix this! Here's a random screenshot that is very difficult to unsee, and it makes me super, super happy - especially considering what's actually happening in the story while Lothar is so... high? (would that be the right word in this situation? 🤔 man, sharing screenshots of random panels from the comic out of context is fairly odd)

... And now, I disappear into my little and comfy tree hollow, ruffling my feathers, so that I could work more on Chapter 5. Gotta make it stellar, after all! So I need more time in my tree hollow! Silky smooth! (ok, I start to get carried away associatively, so I better stop. Bye! See you soon in the next update!.. ah daaaaw, the next blog post! 👋)

#TimeAndAgainbyDWF #This Week In Time And Again #graphic novel

[spikeydinosaur]

Writing Prompt Wednesday, Week 22

I totally spaced and almost forgot today was Wednesday. Oops.

Today’s writing prompt is taken from the Writers Write prompt posted today, May 31, 2023: “End the story with two kettles of soup on the stove.”

Turnips. Potatoes. Carrots. Onions. The critters that were munching on them, yes, they went into the pot, too.

            Why not? Poppy thought to herself. Their sacrifice is good for our well-being, or so goes the saying.

            Poppy spat to the side and sat back on her heels, momentarily wondering who came up with that stupid saying in the first place. Whoever they were, they probably never went a day without a meal.

            Or a week for that matter.

            She’d take the bugs over starvation any day. But she still wanted to punch those gluttonous know-it-alls in the face for good measure.

            Standing, she moved to the small shelf housing her mother’s supply of dried herbs.

            This, and this, oh, and this, she said softly to herself in the small hut, but this is bad. She  stuffed a bundled of leaves back into a clay jar. Her mother had told Poppy which ones to put into the stew, and which herb was toxic. Tossing the good herbs into the barely bubbling water, Poppy rubbed her hands on her rough leather pants and shivered.

            Just then, her mother burst into the hut. She had been running and was unable to speak for a few minutes while she caught her breath and pointed wildly at the stewpot over the fire. Poppy handed her mother a cupful of water and waited, confused.

            “The stew!” her mother finally asked, “is it ready? Lord Hiram is coming! He’ll expect to be fed! They always do!”

            “Lord Hiram?” Poppy asked slowly, not quite sure how to respond. “But does he not have his own food?”

            Her mother’s huge eyes stared at Poppy and the older woman was too stunned to speak for a moment.

            “Don’t worry, Mother. I know what to do.” Poppy smiled and gently pushed her mother back through the door. Once she was alone again, Poppy put a second soup pot over the fire and spooned half the bubbling soup into it. She quickly glanced at the door to make sure she was still alone before returning to the herb shelf and retrieving the clay jar containing the poisonous herb. Taking out three sprigs, Poppy threw them into the second stew pot and stirred them. She had the jar back in place on the shelf seconds before her mother returned with an enormous Lord Hiram on her heels.

            Poppy smiled.

#writer #writing prompt #20 minutes #creative writing #fiction #fiction writing #writerscommunity #writersociety #writing fiction

[mikecrewsteacup]

same anon as before: i am so glad jon becomes less of an idiot in ch4, at least by a little bit. the bar is in the floor, but still lmao. also, i'm just ,,,, thinking about how much gerry is Thinking. he's constantly running the calculations of "which of these risks will hurt me less", of "which of these transgressions will he forgive", on one meal a day and too little sleep. how the fuck has he not collapsed yet?? jon please sit him down and have a conversation with him about what's expected of him poor guy is so scared all the time he reminds me of my chickens (startles easily, prey-creature instincts, so g-ddamn strong, and such survivors)

also! i was more absorbed in talking about "holy shit poor gerry" last ask, but i am Very intrigued by whatever story is behind those tattoos. were they always used as a shield, as protection, or only once pain became his constant companion??

also, just,, the casual way he thinks about all the things that have been done to him. the way he didn't understand why jon recoiled from him in the kitchen. the way he can't even sit on the couch for more than a few seconds, but still thinks of it with such tired, worn-down flatness. it's not unspeakably horrible, to him, it's just part of life. (also, "training"? like a fucking dog?? that was horrible thanks)

- 🌻 (so i don't have to keep typing out "same anon as before" lol, i expect ill be back to yell some more as more thoughts occur to me)

hello again 🌻 anon (enjoy chapter 4, i've lost all control of my life and posting schedule now that nano is finished and i'm staring at my pile of edited work. oops) I will also say - with the enormous caveat that Jon is Very Bad At Feelings and sometimes even bungles it by correctly interpreting the other person, but incorrectly imagining what will help - that it's going to be important to remember in Howls that a big storytelling device is the fact that neither Gerry nor Jon are reliable narrators. As was (hopefully) showcased by the revelation from chapt 1-2 of "wow Jon's really bad at just reassuring Gerry" (which is true, but perhaps stretching the boundaries of belief considering the stakes) followed by chapt 3 establishing that Gerry is putting in 24/7 effort to NOT LOOK SCARED, because he thinks that is a dangerous thing to admit to. Which is something I'm having fun playing with! These two are both tangled up in their own expectations/wishes/assumptions and their POVs right now are dissonant to the point of only making a full picture when viewed side by side. Or that's my hope, at least lmao. Jon is also just very idiot :') he's channeling both his natural badness at relationships with some of his s2 paranoia/bitterness, because this Jon has already waded pretty deep into the spooks in this AU. that is a very good analogy of poor Gerry... our guy is living off of adrenaline and the human instinct to survive and something weird called 'hope' that he keeps assuming has died but 1000% has not and never really properly will, because this is Gerry "regularly saving strangers even though I know the Fears are insurmountable" Keay we're talking about... ooh so I actually am very happy to disclose at least parts of what's upcoming, when it's about everyone's powers and altered pasts and whatnot... all of Gerry's tattoos happened shortly before he went after Diego Molina in this AU, and he will actually describe in detail what his intentions were and why! I will say that while he got the Dark tattoos for a very specific purpose at first, his use of them HAS indeed changed over time ;) what he tries using them for will get more explicit around chapters 8-9, and he'll be infodumping to Jon later on as well. 'it's not unspeakably horrible, to him, it's just part of life' and here is the true tragedy of this guy in any and all universes... I adore him but he needs many hugs and a nap :') I love hearing your thoughts, thank you for the messages!

#ask ghoul #ghoul speaks #fic: who howls my name

[voyageviolet]

I actually sat down and read all of To Siri With Love since there’s been so much talk about it. I have a lot of thoughts about it; it has several problems that haven’t been discussed much because its biggest problems are so egregious. Writing all of that down would make one hell of a long post, though, so right now I’m just going to talk about the worst of it: the eugenics.

I don’t have page numbers for citations because I’m using the ebook version, but I’ll include the chapters the quotes are from.

Here’s the full quotation of the first time in the book that Judith Newman advocates eugenics against her son, in Chapter 8:

A vasectomy is so easy. A couple of snips, a couple of days of ice in your pants, and voilà. A life free of worry. Or one less worry. For me.

How do you say “I’m sterilizing my son” without sounding like a eugenicist? I start thinking about all the people, outliers in some way, who had this fundamental choice in life stolen from them—sometimes cruelly, sometimes by well-meaning people like me. The eugenics movement can be traced back to psychiatrist Alfred Hoche and penal law expert Karl Binding, who in 1920 published a book called The Liberation and Destruction of Life Unworthy of Life.  Its popularity fostered the first eugenics conference in the United States in 1921. The term “eugenics” means “the good birth.” Sample papers: “Distribution and Increase of Negroes in the United States,” “Racial Differences in Musical Ability,” and “Some Notes on the Jewish Problem.”

“Liberation” is such a wonderful euphemism, and in this context many people like my son—and undoubtedly some even less impaired—were “liberated” from the burden of life by those enthusiastic proponents of culling the herd, the National Socialists. An estimated four hundred thousand “imbeciles” were euthanized during Hitler’s rule, but not before they were the subjects of all sorts of medical experimentation. For a while there, Austria seemed to have cornered the market on brains in jars.

The idea of outright murdering “nature’s mistakes,” as the disabled were called, was softened somewhat in the United States. As the psychiatrist Leo Kanner was observing and defining autism, he was also lobbying for sterilization, but not death, of disabled populations. This was considered a progressive view at the time. (He believed there were all sorts of repetitive tasks autistic people could perform that would be good for society, and he wasn’t wrong here, that’s for sure. But we didn’t have computer programming at the time, so he proposed a population of ditch diggers and oyster shuckers.) Around the same time Hans Asperger, the Austrian pediatrician who was the first to identify autism as a unique mental condition, was concluding that “not everything that steps out of the line, and is thus ‘abnormal,’ must necessarily be ‘inferior.’”

That was an even more radical line of thought, and one society struggles with to this day. But wherever you stand on this question, when you start considering how the history of disability is inextricably intertwined with the history of euthanizing and enforced sterilization, you come away unsettled. I began to question my certainty that Gus should never have kids. There is a good success rate in vasectomy reversals, and surely there will be even easier, more reversible methods for men soon. And when there are, I’m going to be the first in line to sign him up. Kids at twenty or twenty-five? No. Thirty-five? I can hope.

I know this is a long quote, but I wanted to share it because I think it’s noteworthy that Newman is aware of the history of eugenics. She knows that it’s the ideology that Nazis used to justify the Holocaust; she knows that it’s been used in the United States to discriminate against disabled people. She knows that it’s a racist and antisemitic tool of oppression. And yet, she still wants to forcibly sterilize her son.

She reiterates her stance in Chapter 13, after watching her son go on a date.

Newman repeatedly emphasizes that vasectomies are reversible, as though that’s a justification for medical abuse. That’s not always true, though:

It's best to consider a vasectomy to be completely permanent. Although the procedure is reversible, and advances in microsurgery techniques have made vasectomy reversal far more successful in recent decades, it is not always a guaranteed success.

...

If fewer than three years have passed since the original vasectomy, patency success rates are around 97 percent and pregnancy success rates are 76 percent. But success rates can fall over time. In men who had a vasectomy 15 years or more before their reversal, the likelihood of restoring the vas deferens is 71 percent and chances of subsequent pregnancy hover around 30 percent.

Since Newman states that she wants to have power of attorney to make a decision about a vasectomy when her son turns 18, and since she later says that she “can hope” her son might have children at 35, it’s most likely that the lower rates of success would be the relevant statistics.

More importantly, though, I think we can all agree that abuse is still abuse even if the medical effects truly are reversible.

If the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy is such a major concern, wouldn’t the best solution be sex education, the same as any child needs? Newman has some thoughts on this in Chapter 13:

Nobody really thinks she has to teach her children about sex. I mean, not really, not in the way you might have to teach them, say, how to use a credit card (amazing how fast they catch on to that). Kids learn the basics of reproduction, what goes where, and then their natural curiosity takes over. They ask a zillion questions, of either you or their idiot friends, and eventually they figure it out.

This strikes me as rather irresponsible. Newman assumes that all parents share her position on this, but I find that very unlikely; at the very least, my own parents were much more proactive than Newman seems to be. Sex education is too important a topic to leave up to chance. Especially when you consider that a key part of autism is struggling with communication, it’s irresponsible to assume that an autistic child will be able to know the right questions to ask, and also that he’ll be comfortable enough to talk about it on his own.

Newman mentions trying to discuss sex with her son, again in Chapter 13:

... it was very distressing that he seemed to not understand anything about reproduction and sexually transmitted disease, never mind anything about affection and romance. Could I let him be in high school—even a high school for other special ed kids—with this degree of ignorance? But I just didn’t know how to broach the subject, because when I mentioned it—“Gus, do you know where babies come from?”—he’d say, “They come from mommies,” and then continue talking about the weather or sea turtles or whatever happened to be on his mind at that moment.

At another point in the book (Chapter 8), Newman describes a time when Gus’s brother teasingly asks him where babies come from, and Gus changes the subject. From this, and from the above quote, Newman assumes that her son knows nothing about sex, but she never considers the possibility that he might be embarrassed to talk about it. This may be because of her bizarre belief that her son can’t feel embarrassment.

From Chapter 6:

But what if you have a child who cannot be embarrassed by you—and doesn’t understand when he embarrasses you? What then? Nothing makes you appreciate the ability to be embarrassed more than having a child immune from embarrassment.

Later in the same chapter:

Do I want my son to feel self-conscious and embarrassed? I do. Yes. Gus does not yet have self-awareness, and embarrassment is part of self-awareness. It is an acknowledgment that you live in a world where people may think differently than you do. Shame humbles and shame teaches. One side of the no-shame equation is ruthlessness, and often success. But if you live on the side Gus does, the rainbows and unicorns and “what’s wrong with walking through a crowd naked” side of shamelessness, you never truly understand how others think or feel. I want him to understand the norm, even if ultimately he rejects it.

This is actually a fairly common misunderstanding for neurotypicals to have: that if an autistic person doesn’t show an emotion the same way that a neurotypical person does, they must not experience that emotion. Still, you’d think that a mother writing a book about her autistic child would make the effort to figure out if her assumptions were true, or at least that an editor might have brought this to attention. Since it seems that no one involved in the book’s publishing process seems to have figured this out, let me clarify: Autistic people absolutely feel embarrassment. In fact, I’d say it’s a major factor in the prevalence of depression and anxiety among autistic people because of the social rejection many if not all of us have had to deal with.

Back to the original point, however: In Chapter 13, Newman looks through her son’s internet search history (ignoring the “tiny flicker of alarm in Gus’s eyes” - because, after all, he can’t be embarrassed, right?) and finds the porn that he’d been looking at. Clearly, then, he has more understanding of sexuality than Newman realizes, but as far as anyone knows, he’s had to learn it from porn rather than his parents.

As anyone reading this probably already knows, Newman has faced a lot of criticism about her book. For the most part, she’s responded to it badly. Some of her reaction can be seen in this article from the Observer:

While Newman’s stories are meant to be humorous, one of the hallmarks of people with autism is that they think literally and have difficulty understanding jokes. Newman knew this and wrote it that way on purpose.

“This book really wasn’t written for an autistic audience,” she said. “It was written for parents, neighbors, people who may love and hopefully will work with someone who is on the spectrum.”

Setting aside the childish implication that anyone who disagrees with her book must not understand it, what stands out to me in this quote is how unreasonable it is to write a book about autistic people and which affects autistic people and then to say it’s not “for an autistic audience.”

A common mantra for disability activism is “Nothing about us without us” - that is to say, we have a right to be involved in things that affect us. In the above quote, Newman stands against this maxim. She assumes that she can say whatever she wants about without being criticized - and that she can communicate her ideas to all of the people around autistic people without any consideration for autistic people themselves.

Newman doubles down on this in a tweet from a few days ago:

Beginning to think well meaning people of #actuallyautistic are in fact enemies of free thought and free speech.  Which is not so good, coming from a group who say they’ve been silenced.

This tweet equates us with oppressive censors rather than people who’ve been hurt by her work. She portrays us as unreasonable for opposing eugenics against our community.

We might sigh a small breath of relief from this quote from the Observer article: 

“I am much less worried now and hoping to be a grandmother someday,” she [Newman] said. “That’s a result of my son’s growth and my own.”

That may be good news for her son, but it’s far too little too late for the autistic community at large. Her book is still being printed as it was written. We still have to contend with a critically acclaimed book that advocates for eugenics. There is a great deal of ignorance about autism in our society, and now the ideas in this popular book will be what some of that ignorance is replaced with.

#ableism #eugenics #to siri with love #boycotttosiri #OOPS this is still an enormous post #actuallyautistic

[jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav]

[The following ask is just an attempt on my, Winter's, part to exploit a quirk in tumblr's code that keeps formatting from copy/pasted items when answering an ask on desktop as opposed to making a text post.]

MC is a Phoenix and Child of a Famous Magic User

A slightly modified request fill for @guardianoftheunderworld090! This ended up getting away from me a bit, and by a bit I mean a lot so uhhh Oops! Because of that, I didn’t end up doing the dateables+Luke, so apologies! But this is already probably wayyyyy off from the original request anyway.

Again, oopsie :3

Content Warnings: Temporary character death, spoilers for Lesson 16+, brief implication of immolation (but not really bc, y’know, phoenix), mild-to-moderate blood and injuries/violence

As soon as they learned their name, everyone knew of MC. While not quite on Solomon or the great witch Maddi’s level, their parents had made quite the name for themselves in the magical community. Their pre-existing knowledge of magic and the supernatural was therefore completely expected.

Less so was what happened when they died.

Mammon had been cradling their body when it happened, still too stunned to react to his smug younger brother gloating about taking out such a fragile, weak creature. The entire House of Lamentation was in shock: MC, the human they had come to cherish, was bleeding out right in front of their eyes and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

The Avatar of Greed’s breath hitched as he felt their pulse fade, watched the rise and fall of their chest cease…

And then he screamed as MC’s body burst into flames. They were scorching hot, but left no marks on him nor the surrounding area. On instinct, Beelzebub darted forward to pull Mammon away from the inferno, his protests weakened by surprise and grief. Belphegor was knocked backwards off his feet by the force of the flames, and they all watched as the fire raged on, until it began to take on a recognizable shape.

Not of MC, but of a brightly coloured flaming bird.

The phoenix cocked its head to the side, as though assessing its surroundings, eyes passing over each of the frozen brothers before rounding on Belphegor. It shrieked, puffed up feathers interspersed with jets of flame, and charged the youngest with its sharp beak and talons bared.

And suddenly it was no longer a bird.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” MC yelled as they continued to slash at Belphie. A large pair of bright flaming wings arched behind their back, threatening to torch anything they touched. “I LITERALLY RISKED THE WRATH OF LUCIFER FOR WEEKS TO HELP YOUR SORRY ASS GET OUT OF THAT ATTIC AND THIS IS HOW YOU THANK ME?! WITH MURDER?!”

Blood pooled in Belphie’s mouth from a particularly nasty slash across his lip. He spit to the side before replying, “In my defense, most people stay dead when you kill them!”

“THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO—”

“...MC?” Levi said, voice small. “I-Is that really you…?” His tail swished behind him anxiously.

MC turned their attention to the rest of the brothers (one set of talons still embedded in Belphie’s leg, in case he had thoughts of running).

Beel was stock still, eyes pointed ahead but staring at something beyond the room. Asmo was crying silently, though his expression was neutral and wide eyed. The gears in Satan’s head were visibly turning even as he shredded the sleeves of his shirt with his claws. Mammon was misty eyed, with such an open expression of love and want and hurt that it made them want to cry as well. And Lucifer… The Avatar of Pride’s usual mask of stony superiority had crumbled into something lost and broken.

They looked back to Belphegor, who clutched at his leg, his own tears threatening to spill from his eyes. They slowly remove their talons from his leg and face the group, folding their wings inward until they regain their humanoid form.

“I guess I have a bit of explaining to do, huh.”

Lucifer

Too many things have happened so fast, he doesn’t even know how to respond.

Not only has MC apparently been having secret meetings with Belphegor, not only are the pacts they’ve made with his brothers just tools to free him, not only did Belphegor then betray them and attempt to kill them, but they’re also… A phoenix?!

Distantly, hysterically, he thinks, how in the three realms is that not on their file?

“Oh, I’m also not technically from this timel-”

Lucifer shushes them. He can’t deal with any other reveals right now.

Once… everything is dealt with, he allows himself to be curious about MC’s origins.

Have they always been this way? Were they adopted by their parents, a familiar given human form, or had something gone wrong one day with a spell?

He’ll never ask them though. He knows origins can be touchy subjects.

He grounds himself in the practical. Does MC know how to control their abilities? Are their needs being met? Are there any additional accommodations they require?

Sometimes, when their wings are out, he can’t help but be reminded of the similarly fiery wings of the seraphim from home the Celestial Realm and feel nostalgic.

His more possessive side also relishes the fact that they share a connection through association with birds, especially considering how some varieties of phoenixes tend to resemble peacocks.

It must be difficult for them to preen those large wings, do they need any help? No, it’s not that he wants to, don’t be ridiculous. But if they ever want his help...

Mammon

Once the initial shock of “holy shit the love of my life just BURST INTO FLAMES IN MY ARMS” fades, he’s just happy MC’s alive and well.

But he does put on a front of being upset that they never told him about their nature.

“Stupid hu— uhhh, phoenix, I worried for nothin’! Wait, no, I wasn’t worried at all—”

“Sure you weren’t,” MC retorts with a smile.

Seriously though, why didn’t they tell him? He’s their guardian, their First, he should know these things!

Do they think he’ll… try and take advantage of them because of their powers? He’d never!

Okay, maybe when they first met he might have considered it, but not now! Not now that he…

One night, Mammon and MC are up late watching some terrible Devildom romcom. MC has long since fallen asleep, and one of their enormous wings is draped over Mammon, pinning him in place.

The flames interspersed amongst their feathers are short and glow only dimly, like dying embers. Occasionally, a few will flare slightly or twitch as though a breeze has blown by.

“...I was really scared, you know,” he murmurs to their sleeping form. “I really thought you were gone. And I realized at that moment that I… I can’t lose you. I love you so much MC. You’re worth more to me than anything else in the Devildom, than anything in all the three realms. Please don’t scare me like that ever again…”

MC doesn’t stir, but the flames on their wing follow Mammon’s hand as he pets the warm feathers. They’re only pleasantly warm, with a smooth, silky texture to them.

He snuggles closer to them and drifts off himself, comforted by the heat of their body, human and avian anatomy alike.

Leviathan

Levi cannot believe his luck. He finally gets himself a friend he can really trust, and then his younger brother (who was trapped in an attic by the way, NOT in the human world like Lucifer said, because oh yeah, also Lucifer’s a liar) kills them, and now they’re—

It’s too much to process at once. All he can latch onto is that’s them, right? That’s really his MC, his Henry, the one person outside of his family who doesn’t dismiss him as some gross shut-in?

Once he’s assured himself that they’re safe, he’s immediately hit with the rest of the surprises to process. He hugs MC tightly against himself, whether to protect them from Belphegor or himself from… everything, is anyone’s guess.

It takes a long time for Levi’s newfound clinginess to dissipate. He refuses to let MC be alone around Belphegor under any circumstances, even if it means leaving his room more than he’s comfortable with.

In this time, he learns a lot about MC.

He learns that they seek to cool off the same way he seeks out warmth, and that this makes them excellent cuddling partners. He learns that they let out very adorable chirps of squawks when caught off guard.

He learns the hard way that a phoenix in love is a fire hazard.

But he also learns that he’d risk every item in his collection to see MC’s radiant smile.

Satan

Set the phoenix thing aside, Satan thinks to himself as he rushes over to inspect MC for injuries. Set it aside.

Once he’s sure they are unharmed, he turns his attention to Belphegor.

The Avatar of Sloth is lucky MC got to him first. Satan wouldn’t have stopped at a warning strike. Belphie knows from the murderous glare shot his way that it is only the presence of the others that’s stopping Satan from taking his revenge.

His fingers linger in their wings. MC’s feathers are all out of sorts, but there are no bald patches indicating any serious burns or other wounds. Still, Satan cards through them carefully, checking and double checking for any signs of damage. MC fidgets under his attention.

“Uh, Satan?” They’re blushing. “That kinda tickles.”

“Oh! Oh, um, sorry, I was just— you’re okay, right?”

They let out a small laugh and bop him gently with a wing. “Everything’s in working order, don’t worry.”

“That’s— Good, that’s uh, that’s great.”

“...Go ahead, you dork,” MC prompts with a smile. He blinks at them owlishly. “Ask your questions!”

He does, over the course of the next couple of weeks, in between therapeutic pranks against a certain youngest brother.

Asmodeus

As MC is born again from flame, Asmo learns the true horror of love.

He had always been the one to invoke passion in others: to seduce loyal partners and drive others mad with desire, to twist their love into lust and unleash its destructive potential. Despite this, he never really understood the feeling himself, why something as ephemeral as a feeling could drive humans to such extremes.

But seeing MC wounded and bloody, watching the light in their eyes dim, the Avatar of Lust had felt the call of blood and rage and grief and love for the first time. And watching MC dust themself off as they explain their unique heritage, Asmo realizes that those feelings would have destroyed him. He would have done anything and everything to bring MC back to him, given up any part of himself just to see them one more time.

So forgive him, MC, if his movements ever slow to a stop while preening your wings. If he sometimes stares at you with awe, or holds you tight enough to bruise.

His heart has never been anyone’s but his before, and he is so very afraid of getting burned.

Beelzebub & Belphegor

Oh this is Not bringing up good memories at all.

Something about seeing MC and Belphegor, bloody with the scent of fire and death in the air jumbles his senses and suddenly they’re not in the House of Lamentation but the battlefield and she’s been struck down, he was too slow, he chose his twin over his sister can he live with that? Can any of them? She’s falling she’s falling and he’s falling and they’re going to—

When he snaps back into awareness, Beel is restraining a hissing and spitting MC as they scratch and claw at him to get to Belphegor, the one wing Beel didn’t manage to pin down flapping about erratically.

Their movements only stop when they feel hot tears on their back. MC calms down and shifts more gently in Beelzebub’s grasp, turning to face him.

“Beel, it’s okay,” they say, cupping his face with a bloody, taloned hand. He smells the blood and lets out a sob.

Belphegor moves to comfort his twin, but MC’s wings snap open, shielding the pair in a ring of fire and feathers.

“I— I…” He can’t form the words. You died, my brother killed you, he’s here, you hurt him, why is he here, why did he hurt you, how did— “Please,” he says, finally.

MC frowns, hesitates. But slowly, they lower their wings and step aside, letting the twins reunite. As they embrace, Belphegor shoots them a look, but it’s not hateful. It’s not regretful or apologetic either, more of a profound confusion.

Despite demons’ regenerative abilities, Belphegor remains mostly bedridden for quite some time. It seems a phoenix’s wounds negate most healing factors, and the 5 pronged gash in his leg is particularly stubborn in its refusal to close. He jokes that the slow recovery must be because MC will never forgive him for what he’s done. Beel chastises him and says they’re more forgiving than he thinks.

Still, Belphie is surprised to see MC join Beel when he comes to change the youngest’s bandages. They hold out their hands, revealing 10 strange, press-on caps over their talons as they assure Belphie they won’t hurt him.

Where Beel is overly cautious and gentle, MC is practiced and efficient as they inspect, clean, and redress his wounds.

“Is this your way of apologizing?” Belphie can’t help but ask, earning him a stern glare from his twin.

“For attacking you after you killed me, not knowing it wouldn’t take? No,” they reply around a mouthful of medical tape. “It’s an excuse to talk.” They gesture for Beel to move his hand from the gauze pad so they can tape it down.

“You want to talk with your would-be murderer.” MC gathers up the garbage and old bandages to toss them in the trash.

“You’re not the first person to try, you know,” they remark as they dust off their hands.

“What?!” the twins shout in unison, Beel nearly dropping the scissors he was putting back into the first aid kit.

“I’ll tell you about it if you tell me why…” MC gestures broadly to Belphegor, “this all happened the way it did.”

This exchange of stories does not repair MC and Belphegor’s fraught relationship. That is not how wounds heal. But nevertheless, some weeks later, the House of Lamentation has a movie night. And sandwiched in the middle of the familial cuddle pile is MC, Beel, and Belphie, each tucked under one fiery wing.

#obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #mine #my writing #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #as you can see this stylistically got very far away from me lmao #i'm not sure how i feel about it #eh #c'est la vie