#a period piece extended universe

[mermaidsirennikita]

The best part about everyone losing their shit about The Serpent Queen is that I watched the pilot and not only is it the best product Starz has put out in years based on money spent, writing, and casting—it also possessed way more attention to historical detail than anything the Tudor shows have been serving…. Maybe ever?

Not y’all being too simple to realize that a woman can be presented as Not Always Good and sympathetic at the same time…. And letting that cloud any openness to the show at all.

#the serpent queen #but idk maybe that happens when you exit what has basically become like #a period piece extended universe #the TUDORVERSE where you don’t have to be accurate because the same fictional beats have been told a million times #anyway accuracy isn’t my priority #but it was interesting to see them bring in details as character beats #which is what you SHOULD do imo vs quibbling over dates and anecdotes #but liv and samantha are bringing IT

[monstrumpologin]

guys, this Adam (Robin of Essex, Elisabeth 1, 2005) with this Nigel (Rochefort, the three Musketeers 2011). slightly enemies to lover, they trie to no like each other because one is a musketeer for france and one a jung knight from england, but they just like each other too much

(The pictures arn't mine, i got them from pinterest)

#spacedogs #hannibal extended universe #adam 2009 #charlie countryman #nigel x adam #hugh dancy #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy needs to do more periode pieces

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Nothing major yet, some minor Honkai: Star Rail spoilers. Word count: 4.6k.

Nexus index.

On the planet Eris, in the city of Perianth II, night reigns, for there is no star close enough to challenge its rule. 

Deep within the bowels of the metropolis lit only by manmade contraptions, sits a bar known as LOTUS-EATER, carved into the cragged terrain as if it’d always been there. It had not, in fact, contrary to local legend. Had the IPC not run into issues with overcrowded prisons, this planet they now consider a scourge would never have had the means to limp on. 

Easy solutions cultivate the conditions for worse problems to develop later on. 

This is what your mother — a shrewd woman to her core — instilled in you. 

Grimacing, you reread the words on your screen for the umpteenth time. 

… You wish she had instilled some business management skills instead. 

“Miss Exalted-One-Ma’am, when are you coming back inside? This client is refusing to leave until he can speak with you. Lear is running interference, but that’s going as well as you can imagine,” a feminine voice calls out. 

You glance up fast enough to assess her expression. Despite the severity of her words, she’s smiling, amber eyes crinkling by the corners. Her chestnut-colored hair is worn in a braid that extends down the length of her back, meaning she hasn’t clocked out yet, or else it’d be loose. You have some wiggle room, then.

“Nona,” you beckon her over, “What do you think this means?” 

Inquisitive creature she is, she doesn’t waste this opportunity to poke around in your private matters. Her eyes flitter back and forth as she takes in the contents of your phone. Interlocking her hands behind her back, she hums. 

“Looks like we’re due for a visit.” 

“That’s what you gathered too?” You murmur. “What a mess this is turning into. The last thing we need is for the hounds to start sniffing around.” 

“I dunno what you’re frazzled about, exalted one. The locals wouldn’t cough up info to the IPC even if their life depended on it.” 

“Therein lies your answer — the locals won’t, but our clientele is vast as the universe is infinite. Someone looking to score quickly could put in a tip. The hounds are just itching for an excuse to put an embargo on Eris again.” 

She shrugs. “Outsiders bribed and snuck their way in last time, they would now too. Benefits of a quality product.” 

You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. Nona means well, but if she thinks in such simple terms, her training period won’t ever end. Or perhaps you’re being a tad too harsh on the girl, you haven’t slept since receiving this text message two cycles ago. If it weren’t for how scarce this technology is, you would’ve smashed it to pieces for causing you such prolonged strife. 

Alas, as a native of Eris, there are two things you intrinsically cherish above all else — any object that emits light and the special nectary cradled within the planet. 

“I’ll take your input into—” 

A shrill shriek cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. 

“The hysterical client, I reckon,” Nona dryly remarks. “Now, can you please come in before Lear gets stabbed? If it isn’t already too late.” 

You don’t bother dignifying her macabre speculation with a reply. You enter through a back door accessible only to LOTUS-EATER staff, weaving around boxes of cargo that need to be sorted. A heady, aromantic scent clings to the wood, yet its temptation is long lost on you. Where the clients indulge, you abstain. The livelihood of yourself and your workers relies heavily on your psyche’s clarity. 

Emerging from the back rooms has you standing on the building’s second floor, an area known as The Lounge. Here, the spherical, gravity-defying emitters of lights standard in this region are set dimly. This latest model even allows you to adjust the dimensions, ranging from small enough to fit in the palm of your hand to the size of a room. There was supposed to be one more on this floor, but while unpacking the order, it slipped from Lear’s hands and met an early demise. Great cooperation was needed to locate the glass that floated to the ceiling. 

You check the status of occupancies. Two private rooms are in session, the other eight are empty. By your design, it had been a slow night. You gave orders to the receptionist, Thalia, to only book appointments for influential customers, just in case the omen floating over your head comes true. You walk down the hallway which leads to the first floor, only to notice cool colors set in a square array by the digital lock. 

The sight doesn’t sit right with you. You consider taking a detour to investigate, only for the commotion downstairs to encourage otherwise. 

“Sir, if you’d please calm down—”

Lear’s gentle voice is cut off by another. 

“I demand to speak with her,” it heaves. “The mind witch. Where is she?” 

The electronic curtains that lift for those put into the LOTUS-EATER’s database part in a magnificent flurry of scarlet hues. You feel each set of eyes that glance your way. It’s a typical ensemble present — affluent travelers, political emissaries, and well-to-do merchants. Some drink at the bar, others watch the live entertainment playing soft music. Everyone aside from the heaving interloper is dressed in the formalwear expected of the establishment. 

The click of your heels against the dark wood floor reverberates throughout. The man’s reaction to your appearance is delayed, though he eventually turns his head to see where Lear is looking. Resentment contorts his face upon spotting you. You recognize him. Jay R. Alister, a client who gave Thalia a difficult time due to his demands to have a Synalink booking today. You thought you smoothed over the matter by granting him access to the first floor, The Club, and placing him on a priority list for next time. 

Copious amounts of alcohol must’ve unraveled your hard work. 

“Shall we take a moment to collect ourselves, sir?”

“No one— no one understands,” he insists, swaying ever so slightly. It’s a peculiar sight. One message from a handful of the individuals present would be enough to spell doom for Alister, this charade likely already has him blacklisted across multiple star systems. To be a client at LOTUS-EATER is a privilege. Everyone adheres to the unspoken rule of the honor system, eliminating the need for security inside. 

“I’d like to, Mr. Alister, if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me outside.” 

He’s drunk, but a low-level link can be established, you surmise. It isn’t an option without risks. As a recurring client, he could catch onto the invasive feeling and grow further agitated. The eyes fixated on you grow heavier. Some are curious, others bemused, and a few pass silent judgment, comparing your capabilities with the previous Exalted Arbiter. 

He blinks slowly. “My Roze… she’s upstairs. She’s waiting for me. I can’t— can’t be late…” 

“You won’t be,” your voice takes on a concerned lilt, “Let’s go meet her elsewhere. Follow me and I’ll take you to her.” 

A white ring forms around his pupils. 

“You… will?” 

“I will. Come, now, we wouldn’t want to waste any more of her time, would we?” 

The ring goes from opaque to solid. 

The low-level link has been made manifest. You feel the thread connecting you to the essence that makes Jay R. Alister himself. 

You stride past him and he immediately scrambles to follow. Out of the corner of your eye, you note how Lear’s shoulders relax and give him a reassuring nod. He did a good job stalling until you could personally see to this matter yourself. If this had occurred any other time, it would’ve been your top priority, but a far more sensitive issue threatened to ensnare you in a worrisome web. 

One after another, the pairs of eyes fall, like a flying pest in its final moments. Conversation resumes and the music increases in volume. 

Cool air embraces you once you’re outside. This particular region is well-lit, a testimony to its prestige. Restaurants, boutiques, and other fine shops have been built with walls of dark stone naturally found on Eris for better insulation. The once rugged streets are smooth, painstakingly cobbled together by a city planner many Amber Eras ago. Any crack has molten gold poured into it so that when it dries, the ground beneath your feet is a never-ending sea of ebony and gold. 

You wave over the closest security guards. The rest can be left to them, Mr. Alister has damaged his reputation enough for you to consider his dues paid. You’ll tell Thalia to take him off the registered client list for LOTUS-EATER and that’ll be the end of it. You’re preparing to head back inside when a pervasive, overpowering influence freezes you in place. It’s reminiscent of an electric current.  

The taut link between you falters. 

Straining…

(He’s reaching into his pocket). 

Fraying…

(His hands wield a sharpened implement).  

Until it snaps. 

The subjugated lunges at the subjugator. 

You try to re-establish the link, but there’s a fortress around his mind that wasn’t there moments prior. Imposing and unbreachable. Where did this surge of mental fortitude come from? You need to think, you need to act. There must be a way for you to regain control, your technique is unshaken even in the face of imminent demise. In the three seconds it takes for him to close the distance, you make seventy-four attempts, each ending in failure. 

Has the last grain of sand fallen to the bottom of the hourglass, cementing this choice to believe in your abilities as the wrong one? 

This can’t be the end. Who will take care of—

Metal clashes against metal. 

The being in front of you is a shade. Tendrils of agony untold slither up from his thigh and squeeze around his neck, constantly choking him, yet refusing the sweet reprieve a crushed windpipe would give. This is a person acquainted with every suffering a living creature could ever endure. The prismatic shards that detail his countless tragedies aren’t just broken, they’re eviscerated, an indecipherable mess. Some scattered to the wind and others forcibly scratched out. 

This nightmarish presence eclipses your would-be killer. 

His eyes meet yours and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“Don’t bother,” is all he says. 

He could sense you trying to poke around in his head? Has he come into contact with Arbiters before? That can’t be possible, you’re familiar with everyone on the LOTUS-EATER registry. You cease your ministrations without verbally acknowledging him. His hollow expression burns into your retinas, invading your mind’s eye. The sword he saved your life with holds a similar weight. It radiates such intensity that you needn’t use any techniques to get a better read on it. 

Walking up the steps in a casual manner is the last person you wanted to see — Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters. She spares the now subdued Alister a glance then turns to face you. 

“Fortunately, I had the foresight to send Bladie ahead,” she smiles. You resist the urge to scoff. “Otherwise, our meeting would’ve been far less pleasant.” 

So that man’s with her, you think. That’d explain why I couldn’t make any progress. 

If the defenses surrounding Alister were comparable to a fortress, the minds of the Stellaron Hunters are like a deflective shield. Any extensive attempts at trying to gain access end up backfiring and causing you damage so long as they remain up. The only other being capable of a similar feat was your mother. Now, in the few years since her death, you’ve encountered three more with similar capabilities. 

Are your abilities growing dull? Or are other species simply evolving? 

You order the guards to deal with Alister as they see fit, he’s no longer your primary concern. 

There’s a far worse headache forming on the horizon. 

“... I suppose you’ll follow me inside whether I invite you or not?” You question, just barely managing to maintain the smile painted hastily on your face. 

Kafka doesn’t reciprocate your hostility. She never does. Instead, she motions in the direction you were planning on taking them to avoid any unwanted attention. The guards won’t be an issue, since they’re on your payroll. You don’t want to risk lingering and being spotted by someone without an allegiance to you.

“I won’t overstay my welcome, Exalted Arbiter. You have my word.” 

By essentially showing up uninvited at your front door, she’s placed you in quite a precarious situation. The man who parried Alister’s attack hasn’t dropped his vigilance for an instant. His posture is that of an animal poised to pounce. You lack the means to fight them off should they choose to utilize force. 

Your gut instinct tells you it’s a bad idea to get involved any further. Your mind reasons you can only play the cards you’re dealt. 

A sigh passes by your lips. “Very well. Let’s get on with it then.” 

The duo follows wordlessly behind you. Kafka remains close, whereas the swordsman lingers further back, taking care to avoid well-lit areas and remaining hidden. Had you not already been alerted to his presence, he could’ve easily slipped past your detection.  

The Stellaron Hunters are a formidable group indeed. 

During the short journey, you recall the text message that pushed you into this vat of strife. 

It was accompanied by an animated emoticon of the magenta-haired fugitive blowing a kiss. 

You’ll be in need of me shortly. See you then xoxo 

“Absolutely not!” 

An exclamation of unrivaled proportion leaves you, accompanied by your palms slamming against your desk. Old-fashioned writing stationary clatters noisily in the aftermath. She stops the doomed descent of one pen and then looks back to you, unperturbed. 

This woman is a shadow that follows her target persistently, devising fresh torments and sowing discord wherever she steps. To fight her is to do battle with a phantom, no attacks will land. The hopeless charade serves to tire you out. Still, your pride is wounded and without a balm to assuage the tender gash. It can’t scab over to heal. Again and again, it’s reopened, fresh blood washing over what had just dried. 

“I haven’t finished my proposition,” she hums. She sits in front of your desk, legs crossed, her eyes shining an eerie shade. “I wouldn’t dare to ask so much of your resources if you didn’t stand to benefit as well. Our current arrangement has helped you cut down on costs, yes?” 

You drum your fingers over the wood’s lacquer finish. “The word ‘arrangement’ implies cooperation, I believe extortion would be a better fit.” 

“I’ll stand by my original phrasing. The IPC has abandoned all pretense of slowly creeping up rates on shipments to Eris; what they’re charging now will look generous in a few short Trailblazer Years. They want this planet dead and their past misdeeds to die alongside it.” 

“Our current projections estimate we have at least two medium-length Amber Eras before we get to that point, by then, we’ll have countermeasures in place,” you droll out. These details have been drilled into your head ever since you became the head of this quadrant. “What proof do you have that the IPC will make such a drastic move? The other factions will lodge complaints, many of them use our… exports.” 

You wince at the awkward phrasing of the word ‘exports’, knowing full well she’ll pick through any vulnerability like a vulture does a corpse. 

Kafka leans forward. “By ‘exports’, you must mean Eris’ most sought-after natural resource. The tonic of the nectary.” 

“I’m not allowed to discuss such sensitive material with outworlders.” 

“You needn’t say anything, just listen,” she pulls out a vial from inside her jacket. The familiar sheen of glimmering gold within causes your breath to hitch. “Here I have a sample of the latest synthetic developments into the tonic, courtesy of Silver Wolf. The IPC is discreetly channeling funds into the Genius Society to revitalize the research effort.” 

You bite back a laugh. “That knowledge is nothing new. They’ve been trying to replicate the tonic for ages; it’s a money pit. The last I heard, the closest they could get after investing billions of credits is a 14% match.” 

“Try 70%.” 

She sets the vial down and nods, encouraging you to take it. You don’t. 

“... You can’t be serious,” your voice sounds far away, as if it were coming from another room. “You’re bluffing.” 

“You don’t have to take my word for it. Have your alchemists examine it and come to your own conclusions.” 

As a disciple of Destiny’s Slave, she’s confident that this will suffice to convince you, and loathe as you are to admit it, she’s right. The repercussions of this allegation could be disastrous. It’d be irresponsible on your part to not at least run it by the appropriate channels. 

“What does this intel cost me?” 

“Nothing, consider it a token of good faith. There’s a more pressing matter I hoped to bring to your attention, now that that’s out of the way.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “More pressing than the future of my home?” 

“That’d depend on who you ask,” Kafka dances around your apprehension to a rhythm no one else has ever composed. “It has to do with my companion. I didn’t bring him here to take in the sights, he’s to stay on a job until further notice.” 

The mention of that enigmatic man brings with it a resurgence of the feelings you experienced earlier. It hit like a tidal wave, concentrated and suffocating. What would someone have to endure for their psyche to be saturated in such wretchedness? 

“Alright. I’ll arrange for accommodations somewhere more discreet.” 

“I think it’d be best if he stayed here, at the LOTUS-EATER.” 

…

…

…

“What?” 

Kafka has made many requests in the time she’s known you. Normally, she uses you as a point of contact to meet influential individuals or a warehouse of yours to store important items, but this is an entirely different beast. Those endeavors fester outside your purview. You give the push necessary and wash your hands clean of the implications. 

To host a Stellaron Hunter in your most lucrative establishment could very well be the start of the end. 

“After the events that unfolded earlier, you should see the potential advantages. You’re in a precarious situation. The IPC can’t place a bounty on you in an official capacity, but there are ways around bureaucracy. That attempt today won’t be the last.” 

She lowers her voice to an enticing whisper. “And we both know you’re not financially sound enough to hire competent help. Take him. He’ll be yours if you permit him.” 

How her melodious voice can invoke such a raw desire to argue is unknown, and yet, each fiery word fizzles out to ash on your tongue. In the same way you’d establish a link for the first time, you take the pieces of information at your disposal to test where the edges might align. The unusual fees on shipments, the supposed progress on the tonic, and the overall strain that’s been placed on every level of your business — the mosaic it forms is a crimson shade with a metallic scent. 

You can’t die. Not yet, not when it’d cause so many to perish alongside you. 

“This goes beyond ‘a token of good faith’,” you murmur. “Kafka… there’s far more to this, isn’t there? Just what are you planning?” 

For once, the curvature of her smile is genuine. Blatant insincerity would unsettle you less. 

“A gift for a friend.”

Upon LOTUS-EATER’s roof sits your favorite getaway, a secluded balcony. 

There’s nothing fancy about the decor, if anything, it’s worn rugged by the elements. Paint chips off the three chairs and stubborn foliage congregates no matter how often you banish it with your broom. After ensuring you can only be contacted in an emergency, you wipe the condensation off the chair furthest to the right and sit tall. 

Although you aren’t alone, you keep your eyes on the starry sky.

“I would like to apologize for the behavior I displayed earlier,” you take your time with the words, ensuring each syllable has a pleasant ring. “It must’ve been from the shock, although that’s no excuse. Please allow me to thank you properly.” 

An icy wind whistles through. Once it finishes, you fuss over your hair, putting each strand back in its designated place. You grimace when it picks back up again. 

“You can express your gratitude by speaking normally.” 

Your head snaps in his direction. You examine his side profile through narrow eyes, impatience writhing beneath your skin. He pays your poorly masked hostility no mind. One by one, each muscle in your body relaxes, a domino effect you can’t bother putting a stop to. You slump down into your chair and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Have it your way,” you sigh. Your capitulation earns you his piercing stare. “Pretty words or not, I meant what I said. So, um… thank you, and…” 

Despite yourself, you try meshing together a more subtle phrasing, only for those infinite pools of vermillion to act as a successful deterrent. 

“I don’t like being indebted to others, it’s a hassle. So, here is my offer. I’ll perform a Synalink on you, free of charge. Or a waitlist.” 

Blade exhales sharply through his nose. It takes a moment to register that your proposition amused him more than it intrigued him. The perceived affront on your capabilities causes you to bristle. This is a rare opportunity you’re granting him, surely he must’ve heard of your abilities somewhere! People spend years trying to get an audience with you. The other Arbiters you employ are capable enough, otherwise, they couldn’t work here; but you transcend their combined efforts. 

“There is only one thing I’d want to experience, it’s beyond your means.” 

Propping yourself up on the chair’s arm, you scoff. “Hah, try me. Any emotion, scenario, for whatever length of time; tell me what you want to experience and I can make it happen.” 

He doesn’t instantly rebuke you. You share a moment of silence — almost solemn, certainly more meaningful for him than it is for you. There’s a light tug of guilt that pulls at your conscience. Perhaps it isn’t him underestimating you, but not wanting to set himself up for disappointment again. If you’re going to be occupying the same space for an unknown amount of time, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get on adequate terms. This could be the door that’ll open that path. 

You clear your throat to dispense the accumulating tension. “That clothing… you must have ties to The Xianzhou Luofu, or some experience with them. Are you familiar with Immersia games?” 

“Vaguely. An acquaintance of mine plays them.” 

You’re confident you could put a name and face to this ‘acquaintance’. For the sake of cordiality, you keep your opinion to yourself.

“I’ve never been fond of the comparison to my work, but I suppose it’s a decent touchstone. An Immersia grants the player a simulated experience predetermined by developers. There is a degree of immersion, hence, well, the name, but that’s barely scratching the surface,” you explain. 

Reassessing his body language only reveals neutrality. You decide it’s better than blatant disinterest and continue. 

“Traditionally, there are thought to be five senses in advanced lifeforms. These senses don't create the continuity of reality we experience, they just break it down into bite-sized pieces for easy consumption. Forming a Synalink is akin to overclocking a computer, not placing a hard drive in a different system. Your brain finds the stimuli I send it indistinguishable from the touch of your hair against your face, or the woody scent of incense in that jar.” 

His eyebrows crease slightly downward. “A single glimpse into my mind was enough to send you recoiling, and still, this is an offer you’re comfortable making?”   

You purse your lips. It’s a fair point. 

“That was… different. Ideally, any link should be made in a stable environment to minimize disruptions. I had nearly been—” You cut yourself off, finding the sentence to be one you’d rather not finish. “—You know, so I wasn’t at optimal performance. That’s why we have private rooms in The Lounge.” 

Your nostrils flare when he keeps regarding you with that impassive expression. Is his face permanently frozen? Does he need to be unpaused? You almost want to snap your fingers in front of him.

“Hey, you’d be less effective if you had to improvise and fight with, say, a spoon. Would your combat ability be based on that one irregular instance or the total sum of all your fights? Hm? What you witnessed earlier was my irregular instance. If you’re open to the idea, I can make it work.” 

Blade shifts so that he can resume gazing at the sky. Before you can celebrate your victory in this one-sided battle of wits, he speaks up. His voice adheres to a softer creed. 

“You are…” he trails off, taking care to select the proper description, “Remarkably strange.” 

Your eye twitches. 

This has been a miserable cycle. You had to breathe the same air as Kafka, deal with a drunk client that later tried to stab you, and you found out the main export that keeps your planet’s economy from total collapse might be duplicable. All things considered, you should be giving this guy the cold shoulder for the problems he’ll inevitably cause in your future. Altruism gets you about as far as jumping into the air and hoping that’ll transport you through space. 

“Forget it, then,” you get up and twist around. The chair you formally occupied scrapes loudly against the ground. You don’t spare him a single glance while traversing the few steps that separate you from a long, well-deserved rest. Maybe you’ll be extra petty and lock the door so he has to remain here until you wake up. The olive branch has been extended, if he wants to take it and break it in two, that’s his prerogative. 

You raise your hand to unlock the door when abruptly, something captures your wrist. 

Your heart stutters. 

There isn’t the softness of flesh or the warmth that radiates off skin. Instead, you feel the textured surface of bandages graze against you in a featherlight touch. You know the vice-like grip he’s capable of. You saw it in how he clutched the grip of his sword, like it was the only thing he was good for. Gentleness cannot come naturally to someone of his disposition. It’s an intentional choice that requires swimming against the tide. 

Shakily, you exhale, hoping it’ll ease how your hands tremble. 

When was the last time someone touched you? Ah… it must’ve been then. 

You will the thought away. 

Blade doesn’t tether you down for more than a few seconds, just long enough to ensure your attention is back on him. Your skin tingles where he came into contact with you. It’s a prickly, blisteringly hot sensation that starts at your wrist and spreads all over. You squeeze your eyelids shut in a last-ditch effort to recompose yourself. 

He’s looking straight at you when your eyes reopen. 

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he says. You find it strange how quick you are to believe him. “If you sincerely think yourself up to the task, then…” 

There it is again, that swelling of feeling, visceral to a degree every survival instinct screams at you to turn away. 

You find yourself leaning in closer. 

He rewards your burning curiosity with the unprecedented utterance: 

"Show me what it's like to die." 

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #my stuff

[pr0cyon-lotor]

Something reawakened my Alien Stage obsession! Have some modern AU headcanons/brainrot™ :D

(The alien keepers are just their parents or something)

General rambles

Till is a god in the kitchen. Mizi can only bake b/c she has set instructions, but can tweak the recipe if she needs to. Sua can't cook/doesn't know how to. Ivan burned something and isn't allowed in it again. LUKA IS NOT ALLOWED IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN OH MY GOD DON'T LET HIM COOK THEY HAD TO CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT LAST TIME. Hyuna can't cook for shit w/o proper instructions. Her ass cannot improvise in the kitchen.

Sus and Ivan are siblings (twins if you will) and absolutely terrible to each other (like normal siblings). They could be sitting together and suddenly Sua kicks him off the couch and puts her feet up. Or Ivan throw something at the back of her head unprompted. They are literally the most chill people in the group, until they're in each other's arms length. Then, they might as well be wild cats fighting over a piece of fish

Mizi and Till are childhood friends and talk shit together

Till knows how to apply makeup (both on himself and others) b/c Mizi would test out things on him.

Almost everyone is a cat person. Except for Sua, who is neutral, and Mizi, who likes dogs more.

Mizisua rambles

Neither of them are the warm hands to the other's cold hands. They sleep with a lot of blankets and a heater on

Mizi doesn't know how to braid hair. Sua barely knows how to braid hair. They were so used to their parents/servants doing their hair for them that they don't know how to do anything fancy. But Sua did learn how to braid hair for Mizi.

Sua was/is a rich kid. And she's SUPER irresponsible with money when it comes to Mizi. "You want this dress? Sure. Don't look at the price tag, you liked it so you're getting it."

They're both clingy if the other has to leave for an extended period of time.

Mizi likes climbing up places and napping. And Sua got really good at hide and seek.

They don't have separate wardrobes b/c both of them stole each other's clothes so often they lost track what was originally theirs or the other's.

Ivantill rambles

Till is cold constantly. Ivan is a walking heater. My point is they hold hands and cuddle.

Ivan definitely turls a piece of his hair, while kicking his feet and giggling when he's calling Till. At this point Till is unfazed by it

Ivan calls Till "my star" "my universe" or any other space related petname. (l accidentally predicted that in an old post oops) Till refuses to call him any pet name b/c he'd die of embarrassment

They also steal each other's clothes, but they can tell who's is who's b/c they both have very distinct styles

Till fumbled the bag with Mizi so bad he accidentally fell into lvan's arms and I think that's a funny concept

Have we ever considered that Till might be just as cringe with lvan as he is with Mizi once he starts catching feelings. Like it's possible. Till can just be cringe with the people he likes. Probably not as bad with lvan, but even a fraction would make me happy.

Hyuluka rambles

Luka is shockingly needy and clingy. He would prefer to get dragged through the mud than let go of Hyuna. Hyuna finds it endearing and worrying

There's a lot of heels and dresses in their home. None of them are Hyuna's

Luka is the type that NEEDS TO LOOK GOOD AT THE HOSPITAL! What if the doctors thinks he's not hot enough 🥺 Hyuna has to drag him to the hospital b/c he's fixing his eyeliner. And no you can't just put a little bit of blush on, your bone is stabbing through your calf

Hyuna's love language is acts of service and food sharing. Luka's is being a little shit and physical touch

#mizisua #Ivantill #hyuka #hyuluka #alien stage #ivan alien stage #till alien stage #luka alien stage #hyuna alien stage #mizi alien stage #sua alien stage #headcanons anf rambles

[sasheneskywalker]

dc/marvel crossover fic recs

Dark Matter by mysterycyclone The last thing Peter sees is Tony's horrified, heartbroken expression leaning over him. The guilt in his eyes is almost worse than the burning pain that's taking Peter apart piece by piece. The world starts to go dark.

There's a flash of gold and green. For one moment, he finds himself standing amongst the Guardians and others. And then darkness again. It feels like blinking; an extended period of nothingness that ends as abruptly as it begins. One moment there’s nothing, the next there’s light.

“Easy,” a woman says. Her words are gentle, and carry a slight accent that he can’t place. "I'm called Wonder Woman. What's your name?"

Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Clark Kent & Peter Parker, Diana (Wonder Woman) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker, Gotham City & Peter Parker, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Batman & Spiderman

Revenge is a Word I Haven't Yet Defined (I’m not sure I’m worthy of such theatrics) by OliOcelot After the Lazarus Pits and a year of training with the League, Talia sends Jason to Gotham for revenge. Except Jason isn’t as deep as she thinks. The thing is, he expected to see Bruce - Batman - and be livid. He let him die, replaced him. He should be mad.

He isn’t.

In the end, it’s hard to think of yourself as being replaced when you died. So yeah, he’s angry, but he’s not angry enough for revenge. Not like Talia wants him to be.

So he focuses on Red Hood and cleaning up Crime Alley, and scraps any ideas of revenge he had left. They’re unnecessary. Counterproductive, in fact, because now that he’s actually seen Bruce, all he really wants is to go home. Maybe have a conversation or two about how bad Bruce and Dick messed up, but at home.

Instead, he gets caught up in world altering magic from some criminal in over his head, and Jason finds himself tumbling through universes into a New York filled with heroes that he’s never even heard of and a lack of Gotham and Metropolis that can only mean one thing. This isn’t the world he knows.

All he wants is to get home, to make amends, to try again. Too bad none of them know he’s gone. Not that anyone would think to look for a dead boy.

T | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

To Dig a Grave in Winter by OliOcelot The Winter Soldier isn’t the only Asset that Hydra has. This will be their downfall.

Or, Jason Todd rose from his grave only to be taken by Hydra and turned into a living weapon, known as the Gravewalker. Meeting the Winter Soldier might just make it worth it.

T | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply | James Bucky Barnes (Marvel) & Jason Todd (DCU), James Bucky Barnes (Marvel)/Jason Todd (DCU)

in labyrinths of reflections by blackkat With the incursions imminent, Khonshu steals his avatar away to another dimension, where there's little risk of the universes colliding.

Marc is unprepared for Gotham, but it's probably safe to say that Gotham is equally unprepared for Marc.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector, Marc Spector & Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Marc Spector & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne/Steven Grant

no map to my own treasure by blackkat “I think this is yours.”

Bruce doesn’t even have to look up. He already knows precisely what this is about. Containing a sigh, he rubs the bridge of his nose, and says, “If he bit you, I can pay for the emergency room visit—”

“I did not bite him,” Damian says, outraged.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Marc Spector/Bruce Wayne

Knaves All Three by Ginevra_Benci After Ultron, Avengers Tower hosts a good-will gala to fundraise for post-Incident NYC.

Local lawyers Nelson & Murdock, fresh from saving Hell's Kitchen from the ravages of Wilson Fisk, get an invite.

And.

Bruce Wayne’s in town.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tony Stark & Bruce Wayne, Tony Stark & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Bruce Wayne, Steve Rogers/Bruce Wayne, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson

The Spider and the Samovar by Ginevra_Benci There's a new player in Eastern Europe: the Spider has been making a name for himself and has caught the attention of the Outlaws.

Jason Todd makes contact.

Well. He tries to.

G | No Archive Warnings Apply | Roy Harper & Koriand'r & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Natasha Romanoff

Bats Out of Hell by Jedi_Olympian Dick and Tim find themselves in a bit of trouble. Multiversal trouble. Needless to say, their boyfriends are not happy about it, and the universe they find themselves in is unlike any they've found themselves in before.

Or Dick and Tim get thrown into the MCU and meet the Avengers.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

If It's A Highway by there_must_be_a_lock Bucky’s been running for a week when the supposedly-untraceable burner phone he stole from a HYDRA warehouse starts ringing. He’s in a gas station bathroom off a remote highway close to the Croatian border, getting ready to bleach his hair; the ringtone bounces shrilly off the bare tiles and makes his jaw clench tight.

[Or: the one where Bucky is hired to train Jason, and he ends up learning a thing or two himself.]

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | James "Bucky" Barnes/Jason Todd

There but for Grace go I by AutumnHobbit Frank Castle comes to Gotham on the trail of some human traffickers who picked the wrong city. Imagine his surprise to find he isn’t the only one out for their blood. When things turn sour he decides to get involved, which leads to a lot of unexpected drama.

And he thought New York’s costumed paraders were bad.

Not Rated | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne & Frank Castle, Dick Grayson & Frank Castle, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Frank Castle

The Five Stages of Neighborly Affection by AlannaLioness, phonecallfromgod, youshallnotfinditso Between Matt being back from the dead, Nelson & Murdock 2.0 and a fancy Manhattan apartment from his (former) sharky boss, Foggy feels like he's doing pretty well keeping the vigilante nonsense in his life to a minimum.

Or he was until he moved next door to Tim Drake.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake (Minor), Bruce Wayne/Clark Kent (Minor), Minor or Background Relationship(s)

running in the shadows by dukeaubergine Jack Drake dies during one of Tony Stark's "taking responsibility" phases. The Bats aren't happy about this.

Tim is pushing to come home, and in the meantime be an NYC vigilante right under Stark's nose, when the Sokovia Accords knock over the whole board.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Batfamily Members & Tim Drake, Avengers Team & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Tony Stark, Tim Drake & Wanda Maximoff

Shake the Devil Out of Me by thepartyresponsible The first time Jason sees Phil Coulson, he sees him in the soft, flickering light of a warehouse fire. It’s romantic, he thinks, later. Like candlelight.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Phil Coulson/Jason Todd

The Dawn Will Break Before You by thepartyresponsible “Okay, heartbreaker,” he says, “how much to put the tires back on the car?”

Jason rolls his eyes and gestures at him with the lug wrench. “Why don’t I just beat you up and steal your money? Is this the first time you’ve been to a bad part of town? Don’t show me your wallet, asshole. Come on.”

The man heaves a heavy, aggrieved sigh and starts pulling out bills. “Five hundred?” He tries. “Six? We can go to an ATM.”

“You are mugging yourself,” Jason says, oddly impressed. “Holy shit.”

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tony Stark/Jason Todd

birds fly (why can't I?) by SafelyCapricious The apartment in Gotham that Natasha gets — all cash and no ID required — is a shithole.

But it’s her shithole.

Well, hers and the cockroaches’, she supposes, as she turns on the flickering light in the bathroom and at least a hundred of them scurry out of view.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Jason Todd, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Jason Todd

#dc #marvel #dc comics #marvel comics #mcu #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #tony stark #natasha romanov #bucky barnes #peter parker #frank castle #matt murdock #marc spector #fic rec #fic recs #fanfic recs #fanfic rec #fanfic #fanfiction

[ilikebigants]

Hi, I need someone else’s opinion on Leo’s ending in BoO cause personally I hate it. Like Leo’s entire reasoning for why he would die out of the seven was that he was the least valuable member and like. He’s right? Cause he does die, so his assumption was correct! And also him believing that no one would be near him/ capable of (willing to) save him is why he gave the vial to feastus instead. I know it’s meant to be like Leo defies fate and everything but it’s got to be so shattering to have your extremely low self esteem essentially be given a thumbs up by the universe.

I hate it as well, for a multitude of reasons. Let's start with the obvious: Unbelievably low self esteem.

His entire life, he's been a victim in one way or another. He was called a diabolo by his relatives for simply being born different, and his entire life he'd been going from orphanage to orphanage, being abused and bullied the whole way through. There's a high chance he's also been homeless for extended periods of time, which can give you so many different mental issues, one of the most common being a feeling that you don't exist due to how people ignored you in your time of need.

And then, Piper and Jason happen. He finally has friends!... except he doesn't. They treat him awfully, half the time wishing he wasn't there or insulting him in their minds. And as stupid as the fandom portrays him to be, he IS smart and perceptive. He definitely notices but won't bring it up because he knows what might happen if he does: they might leave him again. He'll be alone again.

People who haven't experienced long-term involuntary isolation don't understand what that does to someone. He was terrified, I can be sure of that.

How do you think he felt when he realised the friendship he had was just a product of the mist? Fearful? Helpless? He definitely wasn't happy, and I'm almost certain his heart sank at the realisation he was alone once more. The one time he wasn't only being a lie.

And then Frank and Hazel happened.

People seem to forget that Frank was an antagonising asshole WAYYYY before Leo ever insulted him or made fun of him. Why? Because Hazel treated him nicely, and Leo didn't treat her like shit. It's ridiculous. "He was trying to steal hazel1!1!" No, he wasn't. BFFR. He spoke so many times about how he'd never do that out of respect for someone else's relationship.

The reality of the situation is that he was once again isolated. He can't be friends with Frank or Hazel due to Frank's jealousy issues. Voila, he's once more alone. The 7th wheel.

Not to mention the underlying thought that Hazel only likes him because he reminds her of Sammy.

And THEN there's Percy Jackson. The saviour of olympus. Boy wander and popular as all hell. And Percy doesn't like him. Remember that? It's explicitly said that Percy didn't like Leo. Bam. There goes his last chance to make any friends. If Percy doesn't like you, then Annabeth doesn't like you. Yeah, Annabeth and Leo have been mentioned to talk about engineering with each other, but it isn't even implied that they're in any way close or talk outside of projects for the argo 2.

Why SHOULDN'T he have low self-esteem? Nothing and no one have shown him he's anything more than a tool. A thing to fix stuff around the ship. And this isn't even with me mentioning the guilt he feels for firing on New Rome, or his guilt for throwing Annabeth and Perry into Tartarus, or the MILLION of other things that have made him believe he was expendable!

His one "friend," Festus, is torn into fucking pieces!

So really, no fucking wonder he clings to the idea of a girlfriend so fucking tightly. The prospect of someone who won't leave? Who'll like him? Who'll LOVE him?! Of COURSE he wants that! And that explains why he's so eager to get back to Calypso!

I'll say it, I believe that the only reason he went back was because he thought that he and her had 1 thing in common, and that was loneliness. I genuinely believe he saw how toxic the whole thing was and didn't care because she was just as alone as he was. It's codependency in its purest form. They fought at the start, they fought in the middle, and at the end, the last scene we ever see of them together is them STILL FIGHTING. Say whatever you want about the age gap, even if it wasn't there this STILL would have been a bad relationship for both of them!

But back to the original point. Leo sacrificing himself. Personally, I think that he did it not out of a feeling of inferiority, but because he was suicidal. Straight up. And as a last ditch effort to prove to himself that the others cared.

And he was proven wrong, as they didn't care.

He was right at the end of the day. No one cared for him.

The entire story feels like a giant "fuck you" to Leo. His happy ending being losing Jason and being unhappily married to Calypso.

And on a meta level we have how the fandom treats him, basically being ignored in fan content unless they need a Comic relief.

People talk all the time about how hard the others got it in life, and I agree, but they had 1 thing that helped them make it through: a support network. Leo had it the hardest out of all of them, for the single reason that he didn't have that.

Not only was his suicide basically applauded and rewarded, but his gift for saving everyone was to be miserable for the rest of time.

We never did find out what happened to the 7 after the Trials of Apollo, but in my mind, Leo Valdez only ever talks again to Nico D'angelo. Why? Because after years with Calypso, he stops pretending, and with a gun in his right arm, he's dead.

#pjo hcs #pjo #pjo hoo toa #jason grace #leo valdez #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #character analysis #hazel levesque #frank zhang #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #calypso #piper mclean

[nasa]

Astrobiology: The Story of our Search for Life in the Universe

Astrobiologists study the origin, evolution, and distribution of life in the universe. This includes identifying evidence left behind by life that once survived on the ancient Earth, and extends to the search for life beyond our planet.

When looking for signs of life on other worlds, what are they looking for?

Things called biosignatures. For example, when you sign a piece of paper, your signature is evidence of your existence. Similarly, biosignatures are anything that can prove that life was once, or is, present in an environment.

If we were very very lucky, we might spot something we know is life with a powerful telescope or receive a "phone call" or radio signal from alien civilizations. Those types of biosignatures would be obvious. But they would only let us identify advanced life.

For most of Earth’s history (billions of years), single-celled life like bacteria and archaea have been around. Humans have only been making radio transmissions for hundreds of years. So we have a better chance of finding life if we look for signs that have been around for very long periods of time.

Patterns in ancient rocks that were created by life are a great example. That can be anything like a dinosaur footprint or structures built by microorganisms, like stromatolites.

Molecules can also be biosignatures, like DNA left behind for detectives to discover. But DNA doesn’t last very long on its own in most environments, so other molecules like lipids (like natural oils, wax, and fat) might be a better choice if you are looking for signatures of life from millions (or billions) of years ago.

Even the balance of gases in a planet’s atmosphere can be a sign of past or present life. On Earth, biology plays a major role in maintaining the delicate composition of gases like nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide in the air that we breathe.

These are just a few examples of signs astrobiologists look for when searching for life amongst the stars! Research into these biosignatures inform many of our biggest missions, from observatories like the Hubble Space Telescope and the Webb Space Telescope to our Mars Sample Return endeavor.

Want to learn more about the search for life? Check out the latest issue of our comic-book style graphic history novel, Astrobiology: The Story of our Search for Life in the Universe. This new chapter is all about biosignatures.

Explore life in the universe with us by following NASA Astrobiology on Twitter and Facebook.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#Artists on Tumblr #NASA #space #science #life #explore #comic #comic book #artwork #history #illustrations #illustrators on tumblr #universe #are we alone?

[blueiskewl]

Rare 350 Million-Year-Old Tree Fossils Has Scientists ‘Gobsmacked’

Rare tree fossils preserved with their leaves have an architecture unlike any plant known today and represent the earliest evidence of smaller trees growing beneath the forest canopy.

Trees are believed to have originated hundreds of millions of years ago. Ever since, evidence of these ancient plant sentinels has been in short supply.

Now, a new discovery of uniquely 3D tree fossils has opened a window into what the world was like when the planet’s early forests were beginning to evolve, expanding our understanding of the architecture of trees throughout Earth’s history.

Five tree fossils buried alive by an earthquake 350 million years ago were found in a quarry in the Canadian province of New Brunswick, according to a study published Friday in the journal Current Biology. The authors said these new and unusual fossil trees not only bear a surprising shape reminiscent of a Dr. Seuss illustration, they reveal clues about a period of life on Earth of which we know little.

“They are time capsules,” said Robert Gastaldo, a paleontologist and sedimentologist who led the study, “literally little windows into deep-time landscapes and ecosystems.”

Coauthors Olivia King and Matthew Stimson unearthed the first of the ancient trees in 2017 while doing fieldwork in a rock quarry in New Brunswick. One of the specimens they discovered is among a handful of cases in the entire plant fossil record — spanning more than 400 million years — in which a tree’s branches and crown leaves are still attached to its trunk.

Few tree fossils that date back to Earth’s earliest forests have ever been found, according to Gastaldo. Their discovery helps fill in some missing pieces of an incomplete fossil record.

“There are only five or six trees that we can document, at least in the Paleozoic, that were preserved with its crown intact,” said Gastaldo, a professor of geology at Colby College in Waterville, Maine.

Most ancient tree specimens are relatively small, he noted, and often discovered in the form of a fossilized trunk with a stump or root system attached. For his colleagues to find a preserved tree that could have been 15 feet tall in its maturity with an 18-foot diameter crown left the paleontologist “gobsmacked.”

Ancient earthquake burial

The researchers excavated the first fossil tree about seven years ago, but it took another few years before four more specimens of the same plant were found in close proximity to one another. Dubbed “Sanfordiacaulis,” the newly identified species was named in honor of Laurie Sanford, the owner of the quarry where the trees were unearthed.

The forms taken by these previously unknown 350 million-year-old plants look somewhat like a modern-day fern or palm, per the study, despite the fact that those tree species didn’t appear until 300 million years later. But while the tops of ferns or palms as we know them boast few leaves, the most complete specimen of the newly discovered fossils has more than 250 leaves preserved around its trunk, with each partially preserved leaf extending around 5.7 feet (1.7 meters).

That fossil is encased in a sandstone boulder and roughly the size of a small car, according to Stimson, an assistant curator of geology and paleontology at the New Brunswick Museum.

The unique fossilization of the cluster of trees is likely due to a “catastrophic” earthquake-induced landslide that took place in an ancient rift lake, he said.

“These trees were alive when the earthquake happened. They were buried very quickly, very rapidly after that, at the bottom of the lake, and then the lake (went) back to normal,” Stimson said.

Finding complete fossil trees is rare and much less common than finding a complete dinosaur, according to Peter Wilf, a professor of geosciences and paleobotanist at Pennsylvania State University who was not involved with the study. Wilf noted via email that the “unusual” new fossil tree was a relic of a time period from which there are almost no tree fossils.

“The new fossils are a milestone in our understanding of how early forest structure evolved, eventually leading to the complex rainforest architectures that support most of Earth’s living biodiversity,” Wilf added.

‘Very Dr. Seuss’

To King, a research associate at the New Brunswick Museum who found the group of fossils, the Sanfordiacaulis would have looked like something plucked straight out of Dr. Seuss’ most popular works.

“You know in ‘The Lorax,’ the trees have these big pom-poms at the top and narrow trunks? These probably have a similar structure. You have this massive crown at the top, and then it does narrow and paper into this very small trunk,” King said. “It’s a very Dr. Seuss-looking tree. It’s a weird and wonderful idea of what this thing could look like.”

But the reign of the Sanfordiacaulis was short-lived, the researchers said. “We do not see this architecture of plant again,” Stimson said. He noted that it grew in the early Carboniferous, a time period at the end of the Paleozoic Era when plants and animals were diversifying as they started to make their way from water to land.

Much of evolution is experimental, with success often measured by a species’ versatility, or ability to adapt to many different places and conditions. The peculiar set of tree fossils presents proof of a “failed experiment of science and evolution,” Stimson added. “We’re really starting to paint that picture as to what life was like 350 million years ago.”

Looking forward

Fossils such as the Sanfordiacaulis are not just useful in helping humans understand how life changed in the past, they can help scientists figure out where life on our planet might be headed next.

The existence of this particular species suggests that trees of the period were starting to occupy different ecological niches beyond what was previously understood, according to the researchers behind its discovery.

Gastaldo sees this as an indication that plants — much like early invertebrates — were experimenting with how they adapted to the environment. The earthquake that likely led to the trees’ fossilization also offers new geological evidence of what may have been occurring in Earth’s systems at the same moment in time.

“This is really the first evidence we have of (a tree) that would be between what grows on the ground and what would tower way above the ground,” Gastaldo said. “What else was there?”

By Ayurella Horn-Muller.

#Rare 350 Million-Year-Old Tree Fossils Has Scientists ‘Gobsmacked’ #New Brunswick #Fossils #Tree Fossils #paleontologist #sedimentologist #geology #Sanfordiacaulis #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #long post #long reads

[violetsandfluff]

Holiday Homecumming

summary: a student from your cousin’s college spends thanksgiving with your family

a/n: I got distracted while writing something else, so here we are !! this includes bits of the poem, sonnet 18 by shakespeare. also, kindly don’t criticize the title. i really [almost] tried.

tw: smut… family gatherings… stressful stuff, iykyk ; ) annnd this is written by a girl who has no clue how to write smut. that aside, i sincerely hope you enjoy!!

word count: 5k

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Family gatherings around the holidays were always a stressor for you. You had heard countless nightmarish stories of family gatherings gone wrong, and you weaseled your way out of every holiday you could, blaming an overload of work at university for your absences. After three years away, though, your family’s pleas for you to join their holidays once again seeped under your skin. In one moment of begrudging malleability, you agreed, and there you were in the back seat of your parents’ sedan, acting as a barrier between your two younger brothers.

Had Thanksgiving been a private event at your parents’ house with just your father, mother, and brothers, you would have attended in a heartbeat, but things could never be so simple. Your mother had bribed you to drive nearly three hours from your school’s campus by saying the event would only include your immediate family. She had then gone behind your back and reported that the five members of your immediate family would be attending Thanksgiving at your aunt and uncle’s house.

Having Thanksgiving with extended family is a nationwide tradition, but that didn’t make it any more bearable. Plus, the fact that your mom and aunt had been feuding until recently didn’t help anything. Your mother and aunt both had stubborn, inflexible personalities, making it nearly impossible for them to get along over extended periods. You just hoped the weekend you were to spend in close quarters with them wasn’t too much.

You had gotten up at the crack of dawn to get ready, pack your belongings for traveling, and make the journey from campus to your hometown by nine o’clock. At nine o’clock on the dot, you rolled into your parents’ driveway, where they instructed you to unload your car and pack your luggage into their trunk before you caused them to run late.

Repacking things into a small, travel-sized bag rather than a suitcase at such short notice proved to be stressful at best, and a few necessary items were foolishly forgotten in the haste of the moment. You hadn’t counted on riding in the same car as the rest of your family, even less on refereeing your brothers’ arguments during the two-hour drive, but against all odds, you arrived in one piece.

As soon as you set foot in the stuffy living room, you wanted nothing more than to run away and never return. The tiny house was already brimming with people bustling busily about, bumping into each other and apologizing over the noise of the kitchen and football game. In fact, everything was so noisy no one noticed your family’s arrival.

You had assumed Thanksgiving would consist of a smaller group of people, but alas, it seemed your dad’s entire side of the family had decided, stupidly, you might add, to cram themselves under one roof to give half-hearted thanks for those they pretended to love.

At family gatherings like this, people usually divided themselves into four distinct groups. There were those who worked in the kitchen and dining room, cooking food and setting the table, and those who locked themselves in the guest room and gossiped until the food was ready. There was a group who planted their asses on the sofa to watch tv until dinner, and a group of children who ran around like a pack of rabid, bloodthirsty coyotes. These games always ended in someone crying and others screaming their sides of the story, desperate for their shrill voices to be heard. Needless to say, they never learned, or they wouldn’t partake in such activities repeatedly.

There was never much peace during family gatherings and you thrived best in silence. The constant ruckus made it difficult for you to concentrate on any given task and it made your head pound in frustration. On top of that, the heat of all of the bodies crammed into one house meant that the heat was turned down if not completely off, making for a cold night as it kicked in again.

The only good thing about the situation was that you, as an adult over the age of twenty, no longer had to sit at the kids’ table with your cousins. Instead, your grandmother set you a place between your aunt and your younger cousin, Sadie, the only person at the table under the age of twenty.

When the whole family had been rounded up and seated, there was someone you didn’t recognize. At first, you assumed he was a cousin you hadn’t laid eyes on in a while, but you soon realized that all of your cousins were there as well. He was seated directly across from you, meaning you had a good view of his features as you tried to recall who he was.

He wasn’t even vaguely familiar. He didn’t share features with any of your family members, nor did he share verbal traits or characteristics. He had a low, smooth voice and a surprising accent that only served to fascinate you more. You nearly asked who he was, but if you asked, he would probably turn out to be a long-lost cousin or something. So you held your tongue, listening to every bit of conversation happening around you in hopes that some fragment of speech would jog your memory.

At one point during the meal, your cousin, Joshua, who was seated next to him, noticed that he’d hardly said a thing all day. It finally dawned on him that no one knew who his friend was.

“This is my friend, Harry,” Joshua stated as soon as he had everyone’s attention. “I met him at uni recently and all of his family is abroad, so he’s staying with us this Thanksgiving.”

Harry had skillfully tousled brown hair and gorgeous green eyes. His face was dizzyingly pretty; every piece of it fit together immaculately. His dimples complimented his smile flawlessly. He was wearing a simple pair of black jeans and a white shirt that would show off his toned body and tattoos had it not been for the flannel he wore over it. You had many questions for him, and it seemed as if everyone else did, too.

Inquiries began bombarding the guest as he tried his best to answer each one. Where was he from? How old was he? What was he studying?

By the end of the meal, you knew his full name was Harry Edward Styles, occasionally nicknamed Hazza by his friends back home. He was only twenty-two years old, studying abroad from London, and going to school for a master’s in psychology. He had a proper, educated way of speaking and an air of insight laced his every word.

“He seems incredibly dreary,” you heard Sadie mumble under her breath. Oh, how wrong she was.

Something about him, whether it be his presumable intelligence or mysterious green eyes, drew you in. Many times he caught you staring at him, and each time you were forced to make an excuse on the fly. Questions raced around your brain at thousands of miles per hour. Was he staying overnight? Did he have a girlfriend back home? Would he be attracted to a girl like you who, in a flurry of haste, forgot her toothbrush in the back of her car?

You told yourself not to be ridiculous, but your questions weren’t at all ridiculous. When a strange, attractive man shows up to your family’s Thanksgiving, you have every right to ask questions.

After the meal was over, you and Sadie disappeared into the kitchen with your mother, grandmother, and several aunts while everyone else returned to their cliques. Josh, Harry, and some of your other cousins retired to the basement where all of the video games were kept at such gatherings and the stampede of wild children resumed where they’d left off before the mid-afternoon meal.

Your grandmother put you in charge of wiping down the chairs at the children's table, out of presumable spite, but you did as you were told, not wanting to rock the boat. After you finished, you strode reluctantly back to your grandmother for another task. Instead of asking you to help put away dishes or store leftovers, she took you aside to the quietest corner of the dining room.

“Y/N,” she said diplomatically, “you are twenty-one now. Correct?”

“Yes,” you replied with a nod.

“You are no longer a teenager, therefore you have no reason to spite our family. It wouldn’t hurt you to attend gatherings and parties every once in a while. I’m sure you’re out doing it with your friends every other weekend. It’s your life and I can’t tell you how to live it, but just know you have choices. You can spend holidays with your family, those who love you, or your friends, those who only want you to get drunk.”

“Grandmother, I mean this in the most respectful way possible,” you began, “but I’ve spent the previous two Thanksgivings alone in my dorm with a weekend of homework.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” your grandmother agreed, “and I appreciate your hard work. However, I believe that family should come before your studies.”

You certainly did not expect that from your grandmother. All you could do was nod and utter a sincere apology before asking if there were any more tasks that needed doing.

Though there were no jobs left to be done, you remained in the kitchen with the rest of the clean-up crew, as you had labeled yourselves. Every other part of the house was overrun with sugar-hyped children, grumpy men passed out after eating more than their fill of turkey, and busybody women reliving their peak high school years through gossip from twenty years ago.

Standing in the kitchen, listening to the others bickering and griping was completely draining, but there wasn’t anywhere else for you to go except the bathroom. You felt guilty occupying the house’s sole bathroom for a prolonged period, but if someone knocked on the door, you would pretend to flush the toilet, wash your hands, and come out.

Unfortunately for you, your plan wasn’t so foolproof. You made the mistake of leaving the door partially ajar as you sat on the edge of the tub, fully clothed, killing time with your phone.

Harry pushed the door open thoughtlessly, gasping and apologizing immediately upon seeing you.

“I’m sorry,” you stuttered as he pulled the door shut. “You can come in. I’m just wasting time.”

You scurried out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. You kept your head down so as not to attract unwanted attention from your family.

~~~

Later that evening, after many of your relatives had left, you went outside to where your parents’ car was parked in a vain attempt to carry all of their baggage in singlehandedly. Two trips later, all of your family’s suitcases, as well as your measly backpack, were soundly inside the house. After the luggage was secured, your aunt sat down to enlighten you about your sleeping arrangements.

The guest room would go to your parents and your brothers would spend the night in the living room. The accommodation made for you was Sadie’s bedroom floor.

You had spent enough nights in a room with Sadie to know that she snored comically for a girl her age. As funny as it was, though, the humor vanished from the equation quickly when your exhaustion was factored into it.

“Can’t we sleep in the basement?” the elder of your two brothers pleaded. “The couch down there is comfy enough.”

“Josh and Harry can join us,” your youngest brother pressed. “They can make sure we don’t get into mischief.”

Your aunt cast your mother a contemplative gaze and your mother shrugged. “Your house, your rules.”

“I suppose,” your aunt declared. “You can sleep in the basement, so long as Josh and Harry go with you.”

“Why do Josh and Harry have to come with us?” your brother pouted.

Your mother cast him a stern glare. “Because aunty said so.”

Your brothers rolled their eyes in simultaneous resignation as you internalized a cheer of your own. Your brothers sleeping in the basement freed up the living room sofas for you to nab.

“Do you mind if I take the couch out here?” you asked nonchalantly.

“I don’t see why not,” your aunt responded. “You’re an adult now, y/n. You can choose where you sleep.”

“Don’t you want to share with me?” Sadie frowned.

“I would, but I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” you fibbed. “I wouldn’t want to wake you if I got up in the middle of the night to use the restroom or get a drink.”

Sadie shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

~~~

Around ten o’clock, your parents sent your brothers, Josh, and Harry downstairs for the night as they took their turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Going to sleep that early proved to be quite a challenge for you, especially considering the fact that homework didn’t allow you to sleep until past two am on good nights. By the time it was your turn in the bathroom, you realized that many of your toiletries had fallen out of your bag when you’d repacked earlier that day.

You were lacking face soap, hair ties, and worst of all, your toothbrush. You made do with what you had, using makeup remover and water to clean your face and you gargled toothpaste in a crude attempt to freshen your breath. You assumed your position on the couch feeling less than satisfied with your nighttime routine, but there wasn’t much else you could do without using anybody else’s toothbrush.

You settled into the couch cushions, pulling your blanket up around your chest. The couch was positioned close enough to an outlet that your phone charger could reach, so you decided to busy yourself with your phone until you were tired.

Time flew by as you checked in with friends, played various games, and listened to your favorite music. You almost didn’t notice when the basement door clicked open. You turned your phone’s volume down all the way, just in time to hear a flushing toilet and running water in the bathroom. You craned your neck to see who it was. Your breath caught in your throat as you made out Harry’s silhouette in the darkness, which was lit up only by streetlights. He appeared to be wearing only a pair of boxers and a tight, long-sleeved shirt, and his hair made it evident that he hadn’t so much as laid down all evening.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked, noticing the blue light radiating from your phone.

“No. I’m not used to sleeping this early.”

“Me neither,” he admitted. “Uni really fucked up my sleep schedule, y’know?”

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, your chuckle turning into a choke in a matter of seconds as he sat down at the end of the couch you were sprawled out on.

“What are y’going t’school for?” he inquired politely, turning his body to look at you more comfortably.

“English,” you croaked.

“What year are you?”

“I’m a senior.”

“Graduating soon, hm?”

“Hopefully,” your voice wavered.

“Not going so well?”

“I mean, it’s going fine. I’ve just been a pessimist lately,” you rambled.

“I get it. Any idea what you want to do after graduation?”

“Teach, most likely.”

“Any age in particular?”

“High school. What about you?”

“What age would I like to teach?”

“Um, no.” You cleared your throat nervously. “I know you’re going to school for psychology, but what do you want to do once you graduate?”

“Psychology,” he grinned.

You sat up against the foot of the couch so you and Harry were facing each other. You pulled the blanket tighter around your lower body, trying desperately not to stare at him. Even in the moonlight, you could make out his gorgeous features.

Harry nodded. “What’s y’favorite aspect of English and literature?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard. You took a moment to process his inquiry before answering. “Poetry,” you said after a long pause, hoping you wouldn’t come off as a complete idiot.

“I love poetry!” Harry’s eyebrows raised. “D’you write poems?”

“Sometimes,” you admitted.

“Can I hear them?” Harry begged.

You cleared your throat and licked your lips slowly, feeling a wave of heat rush to your face. “They’re not very good,” you managed, “but I know other people’s poems.”

“That’s alright. You don’t have to, ’m just curious.”

A comfortable hush fell over the room as you racked your brain for poems to recite. You had memorized them by the dozen when you were in high school, but something about Harry made your memory glitch. Inhaling a sharp breath, you began reciting the only poem you could think of; nothing less than Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18.

Harry listened to you with his ears and his eyes, which were intently fixated on you. He pierced your eyes with his beautiful green ones like you were the only person in the world. He waited in silence for a moment after you finished, allowing the words to sink in before scooting closer to you. “Tell me another one.”

Next, you told him a story that your grandmother had read to you as a baby, a lengthy poem interpretation of the story Thumbelina.

He listened intently as you described the events in the way they had been told to you years ago.

“You’re a fantastic storyteller,” he said genuinely when you finished. “Can I hear one more?”

You opened your mouth and recited the first poem that came to mind; one that you had written. The words spilled from a place deep within you, establishing a connection with Harry that the others hadn’t. Even he could sense the difference between that poem and the last. Your poem’s words came from a vulnerable, genuine place within you that only you knew… until then.

“Wow.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” he gushed. “Who wrote it?”

You hesitated for a moment before reluctantly admitting, “I did.”

“You’re amazing,” he breathed in awe.

Harry lowered his face until it was nearly touching yours. His lips came breathtakingly close to yours before you suddenly placed your hand on his chest and pushed him away.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” you blubbered. “I left my toothbrush in my car and my car is at my parents’ house. But I remembered my toothpaste.”

Harry chuckled in amusement. “Don’t worry about it,” he grinned, moving closer in an attempt to kiss you again. “You can use my toothbrush f’you want.”

“Really?” you squeaked, praying he couldn’t hear the hammering of your heart. “I wouldn’t want to, you know…”

“I don’t mind,” he persisted. “Let me go get it.”

“You don’t need to,” you stammered.

“If it will let you kiss me, I do.” He ducked into Joshua’s bedroom, which was conveniently empty thanks to the basement slumber party, and removed his toothbrush from his backpack. He made his way back to the living room on tiptoes so as not to disturb anyone who was asleep.

You accepted his toothbrush gratefully, taking it into the bathroom to clean your teeth as thoroughly as possible in the little time you allotted yourself. Once you were satisfied with their cleanliness, you returned to the couch, passing Harry’s toothbrush back to him.

He wasted no time lowering his lips to yours and kissing you deeply. His tongue dipped in and out of your mouth, exploring it gingerly. His left hand roamed up your back, settling in your hair while his right hand remained steadily on your lower back.

As wonderful as the kiss was, you couldn’t help but crave more. You poked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear, and he took the hint. A hint of wariness gleamed in his eye, but you assured him you took the pill religiously.

Soon, you were both pantless and more ready for each other than anyone else.

You barely got any time to admire Harry’s naked body before he aligned himself with your glistening entrance and thrust in. He shifted his body until it was under you before bucking his hips up into you.

You both gasped at the sensation.

Harry’s hands were both positioned at the lowest part of your back with his thumbs on your hips, digging into them slightly for grip.

He drove his cock into you, pulled it out, and thrust it back in, letting its sharp point pierce your entrance repeatedly.

“You’re so tight,” he mused as he felt your walls flutter around his length. “My love, is my cock getting to you already?”

You shrugged in partial embarrassment as he let out a soft chuckle.

“No shame in that. Your tight little walls are making my tummy feel full, too.”

Just as you were about to respond, your eyes fell on his nipples. Your head was resting just above the first set, so you hadn’t noticed the second, less prominent set below.

Your hands were sandwiched between Harry’s warm, smooth back and the velvety fabric of the couch, meaning you couldn’t exactly move them to play with his nipples. Instead, you resorted to pursing your lips together and blowing to create a more concentrated stream of air.

“I can feel your arousal dripping all over me already.”

Throughout his dialogue, Harry’s thrusts became weaker and more bearable, but as soon as the last word was out of his mouth, he gripped your shoulder and began pushing his cock in harder.

You moved along with it, shifting around him and bucking your hips into his to give him maximum friction, coaxing a strangled sort of moan out of him; the first of the night.

“Feels… good,” he breathed shakily, trying to keep his thrusting pace constant. “Fuck, darling, just like that.”

You shifted on top of him so his cock speared directly into your g-spot. You couldn’t help but moan as his lips traveled to your ear, where he began to pepper you with microscopic kisses, breathing sensually into your ears all the while.

A shiver ran down your spine as his nose nudged into your ear, but you could hardly enjoy the sensation before his cock re-entered you from a different angle.

“Sit up, lovie,” Harry instructed. “Want you to straddle me now.”

Soon, you were sitting on his lap with your legs crossed behind his back as his girthy cock pulsed deep inside you. The new position gave you both a better view of what was happening to your bodies.

“Look how puffy your little clit is,” Harry remarked, his face breaking into a wide grin. “My darling bud of May.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, thinking about him remembering the poems you’d recited earlier.

“Recite the whole line for me, love,” Harry requested as he lowered his fingers, along with his cock, to your entrance.

“Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date.”

Harry’s fingers began working at your clit as his cock continued thrusting into you.

A soft moan escaped your lips as your head fell back against your neck, but Harry urged you on.

“Sometimes too hot the eye of Heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimmed. And every fair from fair sometime declines, by chance or nature’s changing course untrimmed.”

Harry smirked at the unintentional innuendo as he jabbed his dick harder into you. “Keep going, darlin’, please,” he coaxed.

“I… I can’t, Harry, please,” you stuttered breathlessly as you tried to recall the famous poet’s masterpiece from deep within you.

“Need me to slow down?” he asked understandingly.

“N-no,” you replied, “I remember now. But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st. Nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou growest.”

“Good memory, bunny,” Harry praised. “You’re walls are fluttering so much. Do you need to cum?”

“Yes, Harry,” you whined.

“Finish the poem, then we can cum together.”

You took a deep breath before shooting out the final two lines as fast as your lips, teeth, and tongue would permit. “So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this and this gives life to thee.”

“Good girl. Cum now.”

You relaxed every muscle in your body, allowing all of the arousal to spill out of you. It mixed with Harry’s, creating a milky pool on the blanket beneath you.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your body twitched uncontrollably as your insides relaxed to let every last drop of arousal out. Your abs ached and your head throbbed as you waited for the climax to wear off.

“Atta girl,” Harry rasped, inhaling an unsteady breath. “You did good, doll.”

“So did you,” you replied awkwardly, cupping his pecs in your hands as you faced him.

“D’you like what you see?” Harry teased good-naturedly. “Are you more of an ass or pecs girl?”

“Pecs,” you responded after a moment’s contemplation.

“Coulda guessed,” Harry shrugged. “Me too. I’m more of a tits guy than an ass guy.”

“You know what I like more than asses and pecs?”

“Dicks?”

“Thighs,” you giggled, tracing your fingers down the insides of Harry’s smooth thighs.

He was practically purring as he watched your fingers roam freely around his sensitive thighs. Goosebumps prickled all over his body, stemming from his thighs.

“Feels good, hm?”

He gave you a lopsided smile, cocking his head to the side as he looked at you through smiling-squinted eyes. He held his arms open for you and you were in them immediately, hugging him back with your face buried in his shoulder.

“What are we going to do about this?” you asked sluggishly, beckoning to the soaked blanket beneath you that had acted as a barrier between you and Harry and the soft red velvet of the sofa.

Harry looked around in the relative dark for a moment before snagging the extra blanket from the back of the couch. “Did they give this to you to use?”

You nodded, swallowing nervously.

“Take this for tonight. I’ll make up an excuse for why this needs to be washed.” He pulled the soiled fleece from under you and folded it tactfully so its contents were on the inside.

“Kiss me one more time?” you begged softly, suddenly aware of the fact that you and Harry could be walked in on at any moment.

“No need to ask twice.” Harry smiled boyishly. “You’re delicious.” He wrapped one arm around your back and placed his other hand on the back of your head to steady it.

Neither of you wanted to break the kiss, but you mutually agreed to back away from the kiss lest anyone walk in on you.

“Here’s y’shirt,” Harry said cheekily as he handed your crumpled camp t-shirt back, giving your breasts one final jiggle.

He pulled his long-sleeved white shirt over his head and you took the opportunity to ruffle his hair affectionately.

“‘M gonna go back downstairs now,” he commented sullenly, forcing a smile onto his face. “So… I’ll see you in the morning?”

You nodded faintly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears welling up in your eyes.

He noticed, but he didn’t address them directly. Instead, he let out a low hum before pressing a hot kiss to your forehead. “Lie down and roll over,” he instructed gently.

You rolled over so you were facing the back of the couch, spooning one of the decorative cushions your aunt had given you to sleep on.

Harry pulled the blanket up to your chin and busied himself combing out your hair with his fingers. He organized it into a messy braid, tied it off, and gave your shoulder one final pat.

“Can I have your number?” you asked, your voice wavering as you struggled to contain your tears. “My phone’s on the bookshelf by the outlet.”

“What’s your password?”

As soon as Harry was into your phone, he added himself to your contacts and turned it back off.

“Text me as soon as you wake up, but for now, it stays off. Okay?”

“Thank you, Harry.”

There was no response. All you heard was the basement door opening, then clicking shut. He descended the staircase as quietly as possible with the bundle of blankets secured in his arms.

The digital clock on the other side of the room informed you that it had been less than an hour since Harry came up the stairs for the first time. Somehow, it was still earlier than you usually fell asleep, but that was alright because Harry had exhausted you.

A few hot tears trickled down your cheeks as you wondered if Harry was actually into you or if he’d given you his number out of politeness. You wondered if you would unknowingly be the cause of some innocent girl back in London being cheated on. You hoped not.

You also hoped that no one would find out about your and Harry’s late-night encounter. Either way, though, what was done was done and there wasn’t much you could do about it. You snuggled farther into the couch cushions, pretending they were Harry, and fell into a sound sleep.

Even in your sleep, though, the memory of the night you’d spent with Harry haunted you. The sex alone wasn’t any more pleasurable than anything else you’d previously experienced, but the natural connection between you was undoubtedly there. All you could do was hope and pray that you would get the opportunity to do it again.

Taglist: @madybeth21 @groovychaosavenue @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @mrspeacem1nusone @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cayleyhannha-blog @whitemancumslut

#Harry styles #Harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles smut #Harry styles angst #Harry styles trope #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles fic #Harry styles fanfic #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart #harries 💕

[elwenyere]

Hello! The conversation about careening had me wondering--how do you like to do research for your stories? Are there any topics or sources you particularly enjoy delving into or including in your work?

Hello, my friend!!! What a wonderful ask: thank you for these great questions.

After reflecting, I think I could describe my process as having two general categories: as-needed research and broader worldbuilding research.

The first category is a part of almost every fic I write, and it involves things like sourcing locations, verifying timelines, tracking down character names, and (very often) looking up what it feels like to receive various injuries. If it's a Star Wars fic, at least one Wookiepedia visit is a given (the raw materials page is a frequent hit). And there are likely to be a few other general internet searches I repeat several times ("aviation terms," for example, or "New Orleans plant life," depending on the fic and fandom).

The second category covers the exploratory reading and viewing I do for fics that involve more worldbuilding because they extend further outside (or completely outside) canon. The Codywan Pirate AU has me doing all kinds of targeted searches for naval ranks and sailing ship terminology, for example, but I've also been browsing maritime museums for descriptions of what life on ships was like from day to day (look at this cool page about sailor libraries and sailing literature!) and for images that give me a visual sense of the environment. I also love looking at digitized resources through academic libraries. When @festiveferret and I were collaborating on Citation Needed, an MCU professor AU in which history prof Tony is writing a monograph about weapons development during WWII, I used the online special collections at University of Massachusetts - Amherst to learn what the primary documents (enlistment records, ration cards, etc.) featured in the fic would look like. (Ferret then did incredible edits for the epistolary portion of the fic: this post has the collected documents.)

In a couple cases it's actually been the research that has come first and inspired the fic. The initial ideas for Separation, for example, which is a Top Gun fic that leans into the context of the AIDS crisis in the 80s and 90s, came from prep that I'd been doing for a queer literature class, so I was listening to music by queer bands in the period, reading poetry and essays about queer life in NYC and San Francisco (including this piece that discusses Nan Goldin, Thom Gunn's The Man with Night Sweats, "The Fall of 1992" by Randall Mann, and Alexander Chee's essay "After Peter"), and watching the documentary How to Survive a Plague, about the ACT UP movement. Much of that research informed the choices I made in writing the fic, even if it doesn't all appear directly.

Finally, I should confess that I am pretty self-indulgent with my fic research: I spend a lot of time studying and tracking things down when it's a subject I find interesting and/or when having more information will allow me to texture the choices I'm making in ways I personally find compelling; but I am also very unfussed about leaving other things vague or about fudging some details in service of the story. It's not at all out of the ordinary for me to spend 30 minutes looking up the names of camera models that hit shelves in 1991 and then write a sentence that says "when he gets off the carrier in mid-July, he goes to the mall" without specifying which carrier or which mall, because I couldn't be bothered to figure out the military logistics involved. This is one of the joys of writing fic for me: freedom to pour energy into those areas where research helps get me closer to things I want to discover and describe.

Thank you again for the terrific asks, my friend!!! This was very fun to write. <3<3<3

#writing #my process (only sometimes derogatory) #thank you for the lovely asks!!!

[daryfromthefuture]

⚡back to the future ask game!

decided to make this litte ask game for y'all fellow bttf fans! have fun :D

📽️what is your favorite way of seeing the trilogy and who do you like watching it with?

🕰️if you were to insert yourself into the trilogy, what year would you come from?

💵what is a piece of bttf merch that you really really want (but can't afford)?

😊if you could be best friends with one of the characters, who would you choose and why?

🎞️if you could change one scene from any of the movies, which one would you change and how?

🎮what is your favorite bttf extended media (the game, comics, musical etc.)?

🎵if you have listened to the musical soundtrack, which song is your favorite and why?

✒️you are hired to write/draw a new bttf comic, and it can be about whatever you want. what in the bttf universe would you want to expand on?

👀share a random headcanon you have about your favorite character!

💢which one of the characters would you want to punt into the sun the most? (feel free to include the new characters from the expanded media as well, there are certainly a few of them who would deserve it)

🎼if you have one, share a song that you associate with your favorite character!

❓what is one question you would love to ask bob gale?

❤️this is probably a hard question to answer, but what is your favorite aspect about the bttf trilogy/franchise?

💭share a favorite memory related to back to the future!

⌛choose a timespan in the trilogy that wasn't shown on screen (e.g. the time between november 5 and the monday where marty goes to the school to introduce his parents). how would you have filled that moment out?

➡️what is your favorite side character in the trilogy and why?

🐶einstein or copernicus? (you MUST choose >:) )

🎸what is your favorite piece of movie soundtrack? (can be orchestral or any other!)

🛹skateboard or hoverboard?

🧒what is your favorite marty outfit?

👨‍🔬what is your favorite doc outfit?

🎭what bttf cosplay do you want to own?

🏅rank the movies in the trilogy (if possible)!

🎥what character in the movies would you like to play if you had the chance to?

🚗what is your favorite version of the delorean? part 1, part 2 or part 3?

📄what is your favorite scene in the trilogy?

✍️if you have read any of the alternate screenplays, what is a scene you wish would have made it into the movies?

🏡what filming location do you want to visit the most?

🎢what bttf attraction do you wish universal had, or do you want them to just bring back the bttf ride? or maybe both?

⏲️what time period would you want marty to travel to and what would you want him to do? for fun or for something serious?

💫if you have any bttf related wips, here's the oppurtunity to ramble about them!

#bttf #back to the future #ask game #bttf ask game #feel free to ask me as well lmao

[hdowlpost]

OWL GIFTS for @uncannycerulean

"Dining with the Devil" - The Daily Prophet Summary:

THIS JUST IN!!

Harry Potter was Spotted with none other than the dazzling reformed advocate, Draco Malfoy inside a seedy cafe at Diagon! Is this just another case-related meeting? Or is there something more brewing under the surface!? Find out more on page two of our latest issue, along with Rita Skeeter's new scoop on the mysterious mistress of Mr. Marington (page 17).

Don't miss out on the exclusive, brought to you by the greatest wizard magazine in the UK!! Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: G Contains: Exclusive article, advocate!Draco Malfoy, newspapers Notes: It is safe to say that I've had the greatest time of my life creating this piece! XDD To dear @uncanny_cerulean, I know this is not fully in line with the specific prompts you gave, but you mentioned you like our boys with unusual jobs and my mind just went with it. While Auror Harry is no new trope, I know for a fact that we have rarely seen advocate Malfoy in action, so I thought why not? I hope you like it! Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I'd like to take a moment to thank my amazing beta L, who came to my rescue at the very last moment with their very detailed insights and constructive suggestions to improve this piece as a whole. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversations and in general, am excited to continue our newfound friendships over fics and art! A big thank you also goes to the mods for being the most understanding and helpful people I know. You guys are frankly the reason why I keep coming back to this fest every year. Know that you all are amazing!!

A Missing Mug and Mysterious Memos Summary: Draco is already dejected about the prospect of not spending Christmas with Harry. He did not need his favourite mug to go missing too. Word Count: 800 Rating: G Contains: Established relationship Notes: Dear uncanny_cerulean, I couldn’t go past your first prompt, ‘Who keeps stealing Draco's mugs from the ministry kitchen?’ I had lots of fun planning and writing this little mystery for you. Hope you enjoy the cryptic clues! Thanks to the Owlpostmasters for their enduring patience and my beta B for saving my behind.

From Antarctica, Love Draco Summary: Draco had known that he would be gone for an extended period of time in the remote wilds of the Antarctic circle without any way to contact home. He wouldn't get to enjoy any of the comforts of his cozy London flat, with its adjustable heating and cooling charms or king sized bed with silk sheets and a dozen pillows for even longer. Draco had been fine with that. Welcomed it, even. Yet Harry’s eyes haunt him, even in the most remote of places. Word Count: 2.3k Rating: Mature Contains: climate specialist Draco, Antarctica, Antarctic expedition, lovable scientist ocs, getting together, pining, Harry falls first, Draco falls harder Notes: For uncannycerulean, I hope you enjoy this little science meets magic fic from one biologist to another. I honestly quite love this universe, and may have to write more! Happy holidays! Huge thanks to Teii for the beta and additional research! And as always, thank you to the mods for all you do!

#uncannycerulean #harry x draco #hdowlpost2023 #drarry

[kurolini909]

About me!

This might be sudden, but I'm working on a Master Post and thought to include this section. ^^

Who am I?

Hello everyone, I'm Kurolini909! An artist, character creator, aspiring designer, writer and storytelling enthusiast!

Nickname/URL;

My current URL (Kurolini909) is an extension of my former one (Kuro909), which was based on a cat character from an anime I enjoyed when younger!

I decided to extend it so that it would be a bit less generic. The current one plays a little with the letters and sound of my actual name which I will not be revealing. The numeral does not have any particular meaning.

Former Online Presence;

I was originally better known as an Undertale content creator, though I'm attempting to deviate from that now. I still love the game and fandom, but I want to explore different medias and also develop a bit on original projects and pieces!

Undertale was the very first major fandom I actually joined - I had experience with the Warrior Cats fandom before that, but not in regards to actually producing content - back when I was a pre-teen. I immediately fell into the shipchildren, shipping and Alternate Universes corner of the community, and assumed that was just what you were supposed to do over there.

I sorta had no idea what I was doing with fandoms back then, so... Yeah. I recognize that this foundation ended up making a huge part of my online presence and there's not much point not acknowledging it whatever I'm into nowadays.

I created a few ship children, but no longer feel attracted by that niche in fandoms and am more inclined to make OCs within the universe unrelated at all to actual characters, or just Original Characters altogether. It is unlikely I'll create anything similar again. I very much love the personas I came up with and developed in that time though, and they might be repurposed into their own separate things at some point.

Additionally, the people I met through creating these characters and participating in that part of the fandom are all lovely and incredibly talented. I made a ton of remarkable friends I don't think I would have interacted with otherwise, so I'm quite fond of that period!

My Current Content;

Currently, I find that I'm happier not restraining myself to one specific content type anymore. I will post whatever I'm in the mood for, which I'm hoping will bring a lot more variety into the blog.

I'm prone to hyperfixations, and the likeability is that my content will come in waves of whatever media I'm inclined to at a time. I do not, however, make any commitments to stay posting that in the long term. As I said, my content will vary according to my current interest.

Interests;

When I enter a fandom, I rarely actually leave it.

I think everything I ever liked just sort of goes dormant for a while to give way to newer interests until nostalgia peeks my attention back to it, so I thought it was worth mentioning some of the media I enjoyed consuming and creating content for, and still do from time to time!

Transformers (several continuities, mostly Prime and MTMTE), Avatar: The Last Airbender, Pokémon, The Dragon Prince, Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss, Good Omens, Warrior Cats, Books (generalized), The Owl House, Five Nights At Freddy's, Hollow Knight, Animes and cartoons (generalized).

I believe that's it!

I'll be making a couple more text posts like this one to add to that Master Post I was talking about, but for this one, thanks for sticking around! ^^

#kurolini909 #text post #about me #for my masterpost

[toasterghostie]

A few Demonata head cannons (post hells heroes):

- Grubbs has a lot of blankets around the house and especially his room and hates the cold because of the trauma from when he returned home in the first book to the freezing house.

- Grubbs also hates harsh overhead lighting because it reminds him of the mental institute so he has replaced all the bulbs with warm toned ones and rarely lights them in favour of the lamps in each room, he smashed all the old bulbs against a wall.

- Bec begins to get anxious if she's in a confined space for an extended period of time and after the end of hells heroes can only stay in the house for so long before having to get out to calm her nerves, some nights are better than others and she can stay inside for a good while but most of the time shes out fixing the universe to avoid going home.

-Kernel hates the dark and has several night lights and small battery powered lights/candles in his room,

- Grubbs is the only one that eats regularly and watches TV: Kernel didn't need to eat much when exploring with Beranabus and never got overly interested in watching TV but will occasionally humour Grubbs and watch something with him but never alone, Bec having absorbed all knowledge from destroying the universe has seen every film and knows all the spoilers, she doesn't eat often as she has the experiences of others eating but will sometimes give in to curiosity and try something for herself for the first time.

- Beranabus fucking loves wine and could hold his liquor well (because half demon) but he would get through most of/finish a second bottle then immediately start bawling,

-Kernel had to deal with drunk Beranabus every time, he is now really good at managing drunks,

- Grubbs and Kernel "grow up" a bit physically in the time it's taking them to piece the universe back together but Bec remains in her current form as she wants her chance to grow up with Bran this time.

-Grubbs and Bill E loved watching Shrek together and he occasionally writes "Shrek is love, Shrek is life" in random demon lands, Bec has whacked him for this, Kernel still hasn't seen it yet and is really confused.

- Kernel loves reading in his off time and especially mystery novels but will secretly gush over romance novels.

- Kernel and Grubbs occasionally go and throw rocks at lord loss, they promised to let him live they never said comfortably

- Loch Gossel and Grubbs kissed once after wrestling practice before he started dating his sister, they never talked about it again or told anyone else.

- They have a cleaning rota for the house so they don't rely too much on their magic to keep the place clean.

- Kernel has tried to grow hair with magic and it failed, he then messed with Grubb's hair with magic to feel better, Grubbs was stuck with blue hair with pink patches for a week until he looked in a mirror,

- They play chess tournaments to determine who's going to deal with the annoying tasks for the day.

- Kernel is afraid to return to his parents after rebuilding the universe because he doesn't want to make them hate him again accidentally.

- Grubbs doesn't know if he's going to hug or punch his dad in the face when he returns for cheating on his mum,

- Dervish and Meera used to have wine nights when she would visit and occasionally Grubbs would find them cuddling on the sofa blackout drunk, they both ignored him when he asked them about it the next day.

- Timas Braus is a lightweight with alcohol and adores karaoke when drunk, he sings Rasputin every time at least once

#demonata #text post #headcanon #shrek #lord loss #dervish #dervish grady #meera flame #timas braus #Beranabus #kernel fleck #Grubbs Grady #bec maccon #alcohol #tw trauma

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

hi there! you are once again about to see a message regarding your chainsaw man fics. specifically the makima x reader duology :D absolutely gorgeous fics. I would love to know what Makima's perspective was of the events of part 1. Do you think she had birds spying on reader? Do you think she somehow heard the convos with the shopkeep and understood what they were saying? (my personal headcanon is that she knows, like, every language. fear is a universal language and the Control Devil has existed since the dawn of time!) anyways, thank you so much for writing such an incredible piece of literature :)))

Oooh I think this is the first time someone's ever asked about Makima's perspective of the events of part 1!

Before she developed any sort of interest in the reader, she didn't really have enough interest to specifically spy on her. She didn't think much of their partnership in general other than the fact that they were partners for however long until the reader either died or otherwise retired from being a devil hunter.

Once her interest was piqued by Reader refusing to listen to her, Makima's focus was on testing to see if Reader's refusal to listen to her orders was a one time thing. So she kept on giving subtle orders for an extended period of time, testing to see how Reader would react to them. When the order refusals kept on happening, Makima is pretty much in awe after that. I didn't write the scene with the shopkeep with Makima spying on that conversation in mind but I do see there being instances where Makima does start doing that before their relationship together. By part 2, it's something she does around the time Reader is expected to show up to their home to make sure that you get home safely. It's no different than a cat looking out the window waiting for its human to pop back up.

But using animals to spy on Reader and your whereabouts isn't something Makima does consistently.

By offering the contract not to use her abilities as the Control Devil on you, she essentially was placing her trust in the relationship she has with you. That she's managed to craft a relationship where she didn't need her abilities to force someone to care about her. That you'll always come home to her because you choose to. That you will always choose her.

But prior to that relationship being established, Makima sucks at connecting with people and it wasn't like the Reader was fond of Makima for a while so she was still lonely. So having someone who was simply human and wasn't an all-powerful being as a prospective equal was pretty much a beacon of light for Makima.

So Reader reaching out to invite Makima to dinner after work was pretty much a gift in her eyes. All without Makima having to tell you to do so. So from that moment on she stops using her power to connect with you, it's just hard to control the urge when she is dealing with her insecurities, her inexperience with a normal relationship and her envy regarding your relationship with Himeko.

Himeko is pretty much seen as a threat in part 1 before you start dating. Makima's definitely contemplated killing her and getting rid of her but it isn't something she thinks about (often) when you start going out together. At that point your relationship with Himeko is a minor wrinkle she can't really iron at.

Makima's biggest worry at that point in time was whether or not she could consistently remain in this relationship with Reader as they were without ever succumbing to her nature as the Control Devil. Sometimes wondering if the entire relationship was simply just a dream she'd eventually wake up from. Or that even the Reader would decide that someone like Makima isn't worth being with which only makes her desire to control the reader stronger.

Hoping that she could give an order that Reader could succumb to. There's relief in that hypothetical reassurance it would give that you would be incapable of leaving her.

But that hypothetical relief is immediately washed over by despair and anxiety because if there was ever an order you could succumb to, that would only solidify that she can't make equal relationships with anybody. That only one being could do it.

Which is why she orders the Reader to sleep with her towards the end of the story, which you thankfully refuse before she divulges the truth about her identity. Something you take in stride rather than recoil in fear, leaving her alone.

Instead you stay and accept her contract of a lifetime, marriage in her eyes. So staying with the Bureau was meaningless at that point. She wanted a simple life with her beloved, so she left. There was no need for idols like Chainsaw Man and seeing if he could be found if Makima already had the relationship she wanted.

So from there, you and Makima live together in abstract bliss in a new city until... some unfortunate events happen in part 2. But hey you find each other again so it all works out!

#look she's answering #anon #csm x reader #makima x reader

[worflesbian]

Klingon Hamlet, post 2

After the preface and foreword is a multi-page "in character" introduction presenting this work of Wil'yam Shex'pir to the peoples of the Federation "as a contribution towards better understanding and respect between our two races". Presumably only two races bc it's humans specifically making the false claim that Shex'pir was one of them.

According to this introduction, "during the years when the Empire and Federation were at war -- a war the Federation fought on the propaganda front even more keenly than on the battlefield -- certain individuals resorted to crude forgeries of Shex'pir, claiming him as a conveniently remote medieval Terran, a certain Willem Shekispeore, and hoping by this falsification of history to discredit the achievements of Klingon culture." I am 100% willing to believe this as in-universe fact especially considering how much of earth's records wouldve been lost during world war three, inventing a historical figure wouldnt be impossible, and i would Not put it past a wartime federation!

The introduction continues to explain the way this false history took root, also apparently earth and betazed are both considered fans of picturesque period pieces, at least moreso than Vulcan and the human colonies. It then goes on to talk more about the real shex'pir, his lut tlhaQ (comedy) and qun lut (history) plays including K'oryolakhnesh, Khenriy Vagh, Yulyush K'ayshar, The Confusion Is Great Because of Nothing, and Tityush Ardronik'ush. Then there are his 'Problem Plays', such as Romyo and Djulyet, The Trader from Delviy Adu, Lir the King, One Dreams in the Middle of the Hot Season, and Khamlet.

Khamlet is considered 'problematic' by many klingons as it bucks the conventions of the bortaS lut (revenge play) through the central character's failure to take swift action against his enemy, and has even been banned for fear it will corrupt the youth. However, the introduction explains that revenge is incidental to the real purpose of the play: to explore a leadership that has become corrupted, where underhanded dealings, flattery, and politics have taken the place of values of straightforwardness and honour, "a chilling portrayal of a malaise and decay so pervasive it infects the hero himself" and extends to the audience to the point that even a good old fashioned slaughter cannot create the happy ending that it should. Many klingons feel that "khamlet's kronos is too close to our own contemporary kronos for comfort".

there are more specific references to various soliloquies and scenes but i dont want to end up retyping the whole introduction, so to summarise -- the klingon interpretation is often in direct opposition to the terran one, especially concerning at which points the titular character is truly "mad". can't wait to read more!

#other posts in this series should be pretty easy to find in my tag> #thIngan Hol #ghitlhpu'wij