#anyway she is very proud of the fact that this whole collection was mostly made in the uk

[bigboysteveharrington]

Robin and Steve getting roped into playing DnD but they show up with one character sheet for the both of them and the character’s a girl so Eddie turns to Steve and asks “What about your character?”

Steve tells him, “That is my character.” So Eddie looks a little closer at it and assumes he chose a girl so that he could design a character to have traits he’d find hot without any thought for how useful any of what he was choosing would be (and Eddie is mostly correct, but he doesn’t know that the character is the product of Robin and Steve compromising and working together to make one sexy badass lady that fulfilled their collective fantasy or that they had an extended debate about which of the sexiest weapon options would be the most practical in a life or death situation)

Eddie turns to Robin and asks, “Okay. Then what about your character? Did you even make one?” And Robin doesn’t hesitate to tell him, “That’s my character too.” And Steve proudly adds, “We came up with it together.” And it’s very clear that he and Robin are oblivious to how on edge everyone else in the room is while they wait for Eddie’s reaction to them doing the most basic task completely wrong because they’re both just smiling dopily and clearly think they’ve done a great job

Eddie sighs heavily. He’s on the verge of exploding and trying and failing to keep his voice calm as he says, “You can’t have two of the same character.”

And Robin says, “Oh, we’re not playing as two of her. We’re both the same character.” And everyone is just staring at them in shock not saying anything so Steve fills the silence with a proud, “We’re a package deal.”

And Eddie is using up every last shred of self control he has to not yell in their faces about how stupid they are, but he’s still obviously upset as he barks out “That’s not how it works. You have to make your own characters.”

And Steve insists, “No, we figured it out... On our own? We’re disasters. But if we could morph into one person? We’d be unstoppable.” And Robin adds, “We’ll roll and decide what we’re going to do together. It’ll be just like we’re one player.”

And Eddie doesn’t even know where to start, so he snaps, “Even setting aside the fact that you think you’d somehow become invincible if you managed to morph into one person, the character you two made doesn’t resemble either of you. At all. This isn’t you combining into some unstoppable force. Clearly, neither of you have any clue what you’re doing. Combining your forces is just turning you into two haves of one whole idiot.”

And before Eddie can keep ranting, Steve emphatically says, “That’s exactly what we are. So why split us up?” And Eddie stares at him incredulously, wondering how he didn’t pick up on the insult, then turns on Dustin and accuses, “I thought you said you got the Wonder Twins ready. You didn’t tell them to make another character?”

Dustin defends himself with, “They wanted to make their characters on their own. I loaned them my Player’s Handbook and told them what they needed... They called when they had questions. It sounded like they knew what they were talking about. I assumed they made their own.”

Erica sounds super skeptical as she asks, “Steve read a book?” And Eddie is shocked that that’s where Steve finally decides to draw the line and react to being insulted. Steve complains, “Hey!” But he knows damn well that Robin was the one explaining what the book meant to him. But still… that doesn’t mean he didn’t read any of it or that he was incapable of it. It was just easier when Robin took over wading through the technical terms.

Robin ignores Steve and Erica and focuses on Eddie as she insists, “Two halves of one whole idiot is better than two idiots that have no idea what they’re doing, right? If we’re going to be a liability to everyone else anyway, wouldn’t you rather there just be one of us?”

And she has a point so Eddie groans and reluctantly agrees, “Fine. You can be one character.” And Steve and Robin grin because they are far more excited about that and about the coming up with a character together part than they are about the actual game…

That is until they get far enough into the game to understand what’s going on and they start taking every choice Very Seriously. Eddie won’t ever admit it out loud, but once they start to get the hang of things, he does see the benefit of them playing as one person. Robin brings strategy and problem solving skills and Steve knows what to do with their character in a battle. Plus, they both have a lot of random knowledge on wildly different topics from everyone else in the room and sometimes that is a hindrance, but sometimes it’s an advantage too. And somehow they collectively think differently enough from the other more practiced players that they keep Eddie on his toes trying to be prepared for whatever they might bring up and then still being shocked by some of the choices they talk each other into and he ends up improvising a lot to keep up with their unexpected questions and choices and he hates to admit it, but it does add another layer of fun to things

#Another one I may drop as a one-shot one day #Platonic with a capital P #Platonic Stobin #Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley #Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #Eddie Munson #Hellfire Club #Stranger Things #ST #ST4 #Mine

[arkiwii]

For the ask game, AK 9 and and 17 + Saria/Silence 9, 16, and 18? I really love your art, so I'm curious which of your own art and fics are your favourites :D

This is from an ANCIENT ask game, I just straight up had this in my drafts and forgot about it LMAO I'll just reply to the two last asks about it, so don't ask more questions on this ask game so it's not confusing!

woaah many questions, and thank you a lot!!

9. Which character of Arknights should have interacted more in canon.

WELL! I already replied to both 9 and 17 in this post in fact, BUT I will use this as an excuse to talk about other blorbos with the question 9. how about mmm, every Catastrophe Messengers? Eyjafjalla did got a whole event about her, but I don't think we ever saw her doing her job as a Catastrophe Messenger, but more as a geologist. Provence and Skyfire really didn't shine a lot in Heart of Surging Flame, Leonhardt is pretty much absent, and Earthspirit and Tsukinogi, who? well to be fair Earthspirit did a good job in Vigilo. but the rest, well, huge shrug. I'm personally weak towards Leonhardt, because I enjoy Ayerscape a lot, and I think it would be really nice to have more of them in canon! Catastrophes are a huge part of Arknights, and yet we rarely get to experience them in the game. I'd love an event that is all about escaping a Catastrophe, with the Catastrophe Messengers involved! and Leon and Ayers relationship is pretty interesting, they're both huge dumbasses but they can't be without the other and trust each other a lot. I'd love to see a situation where Leon is a weak point and Ayers has to come to face that both need each other... my bad that's literally Ayers's Operator Record. well I don't care!! I need more of them anyway. give love to my bunnies!!

9. What is my ideal endgame for Saria and Silence.

in all honesty, Lone Trail was quite enough what I wanted. it's really bittersweet, but it did a good job with their dynamic and Silence alter's files give away what happened after the story. BUT, the only thing I'd love more is a conclusion, about just the two of them - where Saria is now weak and exposing her feelings, how much she has to carry, and Silence showing her that she's here for Saria, and that she's loved... ah, yes, the question, right

I can hardly imagine what could happen beyond what happened. they're reunited, and try to balance their professional and personal lives, trying to see Ifrit while having to get regularly absent... if I'm being a dumby lovey dovey, I'd say that my ideal is them being together and happy and free from their responsibilities and a family and yada yada. but I'm not, so something bittersweet and where they are bound to continue to fight, but all together and with each other, is perfect to me. all I ask is to give them a temporary break from time to time, but it's good enough to me!

16. Three of my fanfictions involving Saria/Silence, and which one I'm the most proud of.

mmmm I'll name Divorced lesbians and a creature for the first - and you will very much notice it's my first fanfiction with them... well my first Arknights fanfiction at all. my first fanfiction actually!! I wrote it in the plane and the writing is... probably bad! but it's not too annoying to reread it again, so I guess that's a win. I mostly picked this one, because, well, first work, and because it was made before Lone Trail. I think I did well in making it interesting, with the Musbeast echoing Ifrit, and how both are brought together and able to collaborate and communicate when it comes to saving a life. I don't remember if I went for the headcanon "they are exes" in this one, but it's a headcanon I no longer have honestly.

another one would be the chapter Nightmare, in my collection of one shots Grass and Rock. I love to write Saria's weaker side, and the idea that she's the one who is more affected by the past events is more interesting than if it was Silence. and most of all, the discussion they share is really sweet, I like how I explored Saria's feeling that she has to protect and be of use, or else she thinks she's not worth of being loved, and how Silence asks nothing from her but to know that she loves her and Ifrit. it's a nice story about insecurity and self love, and it's something that is deeply needed in Saria's character

and finally, the one I'll pick up as my favorite, Remission, which is a fanfiction I had the idea to write for MONTHS. I knew that Saria would be hurt after the events of Lone Trail (I got spoiled :( ), so I waited for so long for the event to drop so I could get the context and everything. it's my longest fanfiction, and even tho I was trying to not make it too much of a ship work, it's very much about Saria and Silence, so teehee I failed. but otherwise, I really am proud of the way I wrote it, the way Saria keeps looking at the sky, because she refuses to accept that Kristen is gone, and this line Silence tells her, "Look down Saria, there are still beautiful things to be seen on Terra." in reference to herself and Ifrit, and how she wishes for Saria to move on and stay at their side, where she could be loved back and heal. I rarely am proud of my own fanfictions, because I am not a huge writer and my difficulties with English make them not written very well, but I am proud of this one, yep!

18. Three of my artworks involving Saria/Silence, and which one I'm the most proud of.

aw hell nah, complimenting my art!! /silly

if I have to pick up three artworks, I'd say mmm this one, I had it in mind for a long while and I love to put bird headcanons into bird characters!! it's really important to me and precious.

this artwork is really good too, it's less a ship art, but family is important, and I'd love to do more pieces like this!

but if I have to pick the one I'm the most proud of, it'd be this one. not necessarily in terms of ideas but purely in terms of art. I rarely draw fullpieces nowadays, and even less full painted fullpieces, so it was nice to do one again, and it turned out good! I still have a lot to go to be frank, I'd love to achieve a level close to some artists I admire, but recently I've been extremely focused on human anatomy rather art techniques, I'm getting better at it!!

#arknights #askiwi #thanks for the ask!!

[oc-siblings-bracket]

OC-Siblings-Bracket 1.8

info down there because these posts are long ↓

Justice & Liberty "Libby" Lawson by @attorneybout

Info:

okay so these!! aren't as fleshed out as riley and kiara they're kind of just silly little guys mostly.

libby, 17, is one of kiara's friends, alongside trinity and kat (collectively known as the cool bitch club). libby is very like… calm and chill most of the time she's just vibing mostly. the kind of guy you'd see in a group chat. absolutely hates that she was named liberty eagle lawson that's right her middle name is eagle she's living a nightmare. she was literally born on the 4th of july the universe just said "hey fuck you. get america'd" and she hasn't lived it down yet. anyways the group of friends i roleplay with that i use her in jokes that she would kin sans and tbh…. probably right. she's usually pretty calm but if anyone hurt her brother she'd kick their ass

justice, 10, is just a silly little guy!! just a little silly! he's one of riley's best friends and he looks up to her even though she's only 2 years older than him. he's really silly goofy, very optimistic, tries to see the best in everyone, and overall he just wants to help people whenever he can!! he's like a blorbo to me.

they're actually half siblings! they share a dad. their dad used to be… not distant, and not away on purpose, but during his first marriage, when he had libby, he would bite off more than he can chew and end up promising things that he couldn't deliver, fully thinking he would be able to. it's what led to his divorce. since then, though, he's worked on bettering himself and is a much better father to justice than he was to libby when she was younger. she's not entirely unaffected by this but she can at least appreciate that he's improving.

they also! have a cousin, who's a lawyer. a defense attorney. and justice especially really looks up to him because he also wants to be able to stand up for people and defend people in need like that and justice i think really just wants, at his core, to help people who need help, like one of his main interests is superheroes because that's their whole thing really.

anyways fun facts!!

justice has a really cool racecar bed

libby helped justice try to paint his racecar bed and it didn't go very well but they both have fond memories of it

libby and kiara honestly probably met through justice and riley

libby is really into activism. in a sense both siblings have a strong sense of justice and aim to help those who need it

i mentioned earlier that they had a lawyer cousin but i didn't mention said cousin is phoenix wright of ace attorney fame

libby actually convinced her high school to unionize. her logic is that teachers are evaluated on the grades their classes get- so if a teacher is being unfair or necessarily harsh, the students can go on strike by refusing to do any assignments, forcing the teacher to fail ALL of their students and then get poor evaluations and probably fired. it's been surprisingly effective and she's very proud of the student union

libby is the kind of person who says "stealing from walmart is always morally correct"

justice hasn't been exposed to the nuances of stealing so he doesn't agree but i think once he's been exposed to how companies kind of fuck people over he probably will stop seeing an issue with, like, shoplifting a bottle of water from walmart

libby is a lesbian

justice hasn't had time to fully realize his gender yet but when he gets older he'll realize he's genderfluid i think :3

libby image made using https://picrew.me/image_maker/362653 justice image made by my good friend mar (theowlcastle on tumblr)

Dust & May by @ecleticelectriceccentric

Info:

Dust is the Vessel of the Holy for the Path of Righteousness, a cult/religion. This necessitates that he be excised of all sin and made ready for possession by the Holy- via torture. Also he’s trans and has taken to reciting the Bible-equivalent as a coping mechanism.

May-Salvation-Come-to-this-Wretched-Thing (goes by May, named by the Righteous) is a were-Tasmanian Devil, taken in by the same church. She, too, must be exorcised.

She’s about four years older than him, and they were thrown in the same basement. She became his primary caretaker, and they basically adopted each other. She fervently hates the Righteous, but is determined to protect him at all costs.

When May was about fourteen, the ‘exorcisms’ went too far, the Tasmanian Devil took over, and May died. She then possessed Dust as a ghost and promptly broke them out.

Dust doesn’t remember how he got out, or how May died, and May doesn’t want to tell him. May thinks he should hate her, she hates herself for everything, but can’t bear to lose him.

If they advance I’ll give more Lore :>

#oc siblings bracket #poll bracket #poll tournament #polls

[atenderofsycamoretrees]

Molly Goddard Fall 2021 Ready-to-Wear

Photos by Ben Broomfield / Courtesy of Molly Goddard

#fashion #molly goddard #fall 2021 #ready-to-wear #scopophobia / #favorite #interesting to see that she's doing more tailored shapes now and not just The Poof! #she also just released a bridal collection and now i want to see what that's like #anyway she is very proud of the fact that this whole collection was mostly made in the uk #she worked with a scottish company to produce the plaid stuff #(there was a lot of plaid i just didn't select that much of it for this post)

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers being Soft for Their Daughters 

Might just be me but I think there's nothing cuter than a Dad who loves his daughter so I made a hc for our boys. Strap in, it’s a long one! 

IMPORTANT! Watch out for first half spoilers! Assumed that the child is a half human/half demon with the MC!

Lucifer

Tries to be really strict but ends up being kind of a pushover.

Oh there ARE rules that even his little girl can't break, but most of the time she can get away with almost anything if she's cute clever enough.

Pushes her to be the best at almost anything she tries, expectations be real high; gonna take the MC stepping in to remind him winning isn't everything and please cool it on the pressure.

Lowkey learned his lesson before and doesn't want to make another Satan situation so tries to take MC's advice to heart and not be quite so controlling.

Her favorite uncle is Mammon and he gets cold sweats about this every night.

Wasn't able to be there for a lot of her firsts due to work and gets real sulky when he misses out. Videos just don't offer the same experience...

Feels bad that work keeps him so busy so he tries to make up for it with toys, clothes, jewelry, pretty much whatever she likes at the time.

Would never admit it, but his black heart melts every time he comes home and sees she's excitedly waiting by the door.

One of those parents who will never stop bragging about how amazing their kid is to anyone who will listen, but never when she's in the same room.

100% that overprotective "I'm going to give you a brief tour of the torture chamber, then we’ll browse my whip collection. Oh, make sure she's home by 8" kind of dad if she were to ever bring home a date. They will know that his baby is not to be messed with (like anyone's crazy enough to try honestly).

Mammon

So over the goddamn moon that someone actually wanted to have a kid with him that he couldn't shut up about it for weeks.

Treasures his little girl more than anything he owns, even Goldie. When she's a baby the two of them are practically inseparable.

The biggest pushover to ever be pushed. She's about the only person he's ever unconditionally generous to and he really spoils her rotten.

She's just as materialistic as her father, honestly, but MC made sure their girl was raised with good morals. The first of which being no stealing. Ever. She works for every cent she spends.

On the one hand, he's actually pretty damn proud and relieved that she won't be called "scum" or anything like her father, but on the other hand like… Ew. Who raised you? (No one remind him it’s kind of his doing anyway).

For once in his greedy existence, he can tell a sob story about really needing that loan or those shoes for his beloved daughter and actually mean it… most of the time 😏

Even when she's young, though, she will ask him if a gift he's giving her was taken from someone else and, man, he cannot lie to her face. People shame him for stealing all the time but the little look of disappointment she gives him hurts WAY more than all of his brothers’ insults combined.

Probably one of the most supportive and involved dads in existence. He will be at every game, every recital, every meet. Even if he's complaining the whole time, if anyone so much as suggests that he just shouldn't go he'd be appalled.

…. He's perhaps a little too involved because he's also totally the kind of father who will lowkey stalk his daughter's dates to be sure nothing bad happens. MC, please step in. She needs privacy too.

Leviathan

Was incredibly worried about having a kid, he's not even had the best track record when it comes to pets and parenting is some high-level normie stuff. But his little girl's first smile absolutely melted his doubts away.

That being said… he's still not the greatest with little kids. For a long time if the baby so much as sneezed unexpectedly he'd start shouting for the MC and checking every website he can like??? My half demon baby won't stop sneezing, is it pneumonia???

Gets a lot less panicky as the child gets older, but in those early years he'd practically want to stick them in a bubble wrap suit.

He passed on his love of the ocean and underwater creatures pretty early on. The running joke is that his girl knew how to swim before she knew how to crawl.

Family aquarium trips are an absolute must.

The second they're old enough to understand plot he's introducing them to his favorite shows, but only the best (and most child-friendly) ones of course. He wants his daughter to grow into a woman of culture, damnit! Pop culture that is.

Sooo much text/chat lingo between these two. It's not her fault really. She was bound to pick it up but man can it sound like they're speaking tongues at times.

With practice she can and will beat her old man at most video games and, yes, it makes his cry tears of equal parts pride and aggravation.

Has a mini-panic attack every time she hits a new milestone, like, yes he's so fucking proud but also don't you think she's growing up too fast??? MY BABY GIRL!!! 😭😭😭

Cries like a baby to the MC when she goes out on her first date because he realized she's really, truly, growing up and he's afraid his little girl isn't going to want to spend time with her lame old dad anymore.

Satan

Tries to be strict and IS strict but mostly on schoolwork.

Her grades best not be slippin' or this Book Papa will take all her stuff away. End of discussion.

Otherwise, he's surprisingly chill being the Avatar of Wrath and all. He of all people understands the desire to just have your own life and do your own thing.

She'll inherit his temper though, that's a given, and if they both get going then watch out. Fights between them can get verbally explosive, but never physical. Even at his angriest Satan would never once lay a hand on his daughter.

Read to her every night when she was young: storybooks, novels, mythologies, didn't matter to him. Whatever she wanted to hear. Still, he was so proud the day she told him that she wanted to read on her own.

100% makes nearly everything in life a teachable lesson but also helps her when she needs it. He wants her to forge her own path but is still very supportive when the situation calls for it.

Would never EVER admit it, but he does just as many dad jokes as Lucifer.

Of all the brothers, he's probably the most typical father to have, there for his kid just enough while also making sure they're not getting away with murder.

Is totally chill with her dating because he knows he doesn’t have to be super protective of her. She can more than handle herself if something goes wrong, in fact, if he were to step in it would probably add insult to their already grievance injury.

That being said, he IS the Avatar of Wrath. If someone hurts his girl he’s going to have a turn one way or another.

Asmodeus

Oh YEEESSS, he's not normally the commitment kind of guy but he and MC raising a child? They'd be the most gorgeous thing in the universe!!! (Not counting himself of course)

Beautifying his baby since day one, but the MC keeps him from doing anything too extreme. A lot of baths, good moisturizer, hairstyling (when she grows enough of it), etc.

Soooo many outfits. She'll practically never wear the same thing twice and Asmo coordinates his own clothes to match hers all the time.

He actually goes out and parties LESS if you can believe it, especially when she's young and needs a lot of supervision. But he'll get pent up real quick so learning how to do a quiet quickie during naptime is a must.

His girl is all over his Devilgram, nearly every milestone is snapped up and recorded. He loves her more than anything and would just scream about his pride and joy from the rooftops if social media didn't provide him that outlet.

Makes sure his daughter knows that she is gorgeous, she is loved, and passes on every bit of self-confidence he has. Doesn't matter if she grows up a girly-girl, tomboy, or anything else under the sun. When you're feeling good just being you, heads will turn on their own accord!

Not the best at discipline and would only really step in if he thinks she's being a real jerk about something. Day to day attitude adjustments are totally up to the MC.

He is, however, the best sex-ed teacher one could ever ask for and makes sure his daughter knows there's no shame in what comes natural, just be sure you're respectful and responsible!

Completely unfazed when the suitors began lining up, I mean she is HIS daughter. It was inevitable. Offers tips and advice when he can but lets her go off and experiment naturally. Young love is a beautiful thing! (Just don't break his girl's heart though because he may lowkey curse your whole bloodline)

Beelzebub 

….. MC, you're going to be eaten out of house and home.

Though his daughter's appetite isn't AS bad as his, Beel could tell it's going to be an issue from day one but he's ready for it.

Dedicates his freaking life to being sure she never goes one night hungry. He'll cook, he'll shop, he'll even share from his own plate if he has to. The thought of her going through anywhere near the level of starvation he feels on a daily basis is enough to crush his soul (if he has one)

You better bet there will be eating competitions. She never wins, but the fact she can even get close will have him grinning anyway.

That being said, he will push for a healthy and active lifestyle for her too. 

Highkey wants her playing sports and doing team activities because he genuinely thinks it will help her stay healthy and make friends.

Just the right amount of discipline. Tries to be understanding but also knows when to call a spade, a spade and express his disapproval.

Very in-tune to her emotions and her needs even if he can’t quite grasp WHY she's feeling the way she is. Keeping up with teen drama is going to be the bane of his existence...

Uncle Belphie=That one cool uncle who lets you get away with anything and probably gives out sugar after bedtime.

One of the only brothers who makes a point of his daughter also seeing and exploring her human heritage too and not just treating her like a pseudo-demon… And it's totally not just for the added excuse of sampling human world cuisine, like, come on who do you take him for? 🤫

Somewhat cautious about her dating, but ultimately just wants her to be happy. He'll usually trust her judgment but he's pretty good at reading someone's character and if he gets real bad vibes from anyone he's not above telling her, "No. Not that one." Whether or not he's listened to depends on the situation.

Belphegor

Lol MC, you could have picked a much better choice. Borderline Deadbeat/Cool Dad here!

Kids… not his thing. He doesn't dislike them exactly, they're just a lot of work and he's sort of allergic to that. He's more of a semi-irresponsible babysitter type.

Case in point, "Belphie, watch the baby" becomes "Belphie, if you're going to take a nap at least hold onto her leg so she doesn't go anywhere."

Only saving grace is she takes after him so most days she's pretty dang sleepy too. Naptime is a good third of the daily routine (not that anyone is complaining).

Shit at discipline because, like, what leg does he have to stand on? If she wants to ditch class, why not let her? Once or twice ain't that bad.

Takes her on a lot of "field trips" to the human world like he would with Lilith. Genuinely wants her to experience both sides of her identity and encourages her to explore her human side just as much as her demon.

The kind of chill dad that you feel comfortable going to when you've got to talk out a problem or need life advice. He might not be able to offer many answers, but he tries in his own way.

Will prank his kid and will not feel sorry, but is never cruel about it. In fact, this will only spur on a mutual prank war between the two.

Uncle Beel=that genuinely nice uncle who tries to teach you life lessons and how to take care of yourself… while also eating a ton of food.

Would be super confused at first if she started dating like?? How? He kind of sees her like a mini-him at times and his human came to him. Since when did she stay awake long enough to leave the house?? But otherwise he goes with the flow. Whatever she wants, her life.

He might get a bit more agitated if she starts to date a human, like, lowkey bad flashbacks to the whole Lilith situation and the MC would probably have to cool his jets about it. Different circumstances after all.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me headcanons #obey me luficer #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me scenarios

[sparkkeyper]

And They Flew Anyway

Summary: It’s 1969 and Crowley and Aziraphale sit in a pub watching humans make their own history.

---------------------------

It was a raucous night in the London pub.

Indeed, Aziraphale had chosen this one specifically because of the excitement pouring out of it. He didn't have a television in his bookshop and if he was going to experience what was certainly a significant moment in Earth's history, he wanted some suitably celebratory surroundings. His search for the prefect venue (which consisted chiefly of picking a district of bars and restaurants and walking the streets with all his senses extended until he'd found the happiest, liveliest pub with a TV set) had resulted in a pub that would have been rather spacious if it wasn't packed to the brim with Sunday night patrons. A football match had apparently concluded not long before, and a sizable group of young people in the corner were drunk and rowdy in celebration of whatever team had won.

Football notwithstanding, there was a swarm of people crowding up towards the bar where the television was located. Aziraphale's eyes landed on the back of one head in particular, the haircut not so different from when he had last seen it in a Bentley in Soho two years prior. "Crowley, is that you?"

The demon turned, face spilt in an enormous smile. "ANGELLLL!" he crowed loud enough to be heard on the street outside, and Aziraphale winced, as though that in itself was enough to summon Gabriel. But Crowley was already bounding towards him, stumbling gracelessly around the people in his way and beaming like a bonfire. "Fancy runnin'in'ina you 'ere! Wonderful, marv'lous, just in time!"

Aziraphale couldn't help but smile back at the enthusiasm as Crowley clapped him excitedly on the shoulder. "And just how drunk are you, exactly?"

"Oh, unbelievably drunk," Crowley confirmed gleefully. "Hideously drunk. Only way to be, night like tonight! Least until the main event. Got your work cut out for you if you wanna catch me up. C'mon! C'mon, got good seats, right by the telly!" He flung an arm around the angel's shoulders and Aziraphale let himself be dragged over to the bar, not the least bit put out by this unexpected company.

The counter was packed full of people, but two barstools and a few cubic feet of space seemed to grow out of nowhere for them to sit comfortably. "Oi, Rico!" Crowley called over to the bartender. "One for my mate, same as me! Put it on mine!"

"Oh! Well thank you. What are you drinking?"

"I have *no* idea." The demon knocked back another mouthful of whatever was in his glass.

Aziraphale accepted the drink - some pinkish cocktail - from the bartender graciously and bit back a protest against 'my mate', figuring Crowley was drunk to the point that admonishment wouldn't stick. "So. Red letter day for downstairs?"

Crowley pulled a face and waved the notion off, swaying unsteadily on the stool. "Nahhhh. Nothin' t'do with it. Red letter day for...monkeys! Humans! Mad li'l tail-less monkeys, they are." He gestured at the television set where a pair of news anchors were discussing details. "They're tras'iting...tra'smit...they're sending the broadcast all the way from America. Got Cronkite and everything."

That was indeed true, Aziraphale saw. The conversation in the pub hadn't decreased a bit in volume, but he could tell that it was shifting more and more away from football and towards the news programme.

"Angel, d'you know how long I've been waiting for this? Six centuries. No wait..." The demon paused to count on his fingers. "- ty. Sixty centuries. Ever since Adam looked up at th' night sky and went 'wha's tha' thing, then?' I've been waiting for th' humans to get to see it up close." He raised his arms to encompass the ceiling, sloshing half his drink from the glass and nearly smacking the man next to him in the face. "She put all that beautiful, magnificent stuff waaaay up 'n the sky, way up where they could never touch, and stuck 'em down on th' ground. Gave 'em feet 'n legs 'n stuck 'em down in the mud and said 'here, you can look at it I guess but tha's it'. And humans, they looked up at the stars and said 'that's bollocks, d'You know how bollocks that is?' and got to work mapping th' sky 'n figuring out rotations and then! And then!" He grabbed the angel's shoulder hard enough to bruise. "They built a set of wings out of a metal capsule and a bunch of maths and wires and they called it Eagle! I mean, mostly I think it's the Americans being ostentatious but come on! Eagle! And they said 'nuts to Your limitations' and they went and flew anyway!"

His eyes were shining, and Aziraphale thought he had never seen Crowley so proud. "They do have incredible ingenuity."

"Blessed right, they do! W'as the time?"

"Nearly eight, I think."

"Blimey, it's soon. Hang on, I wanna 'ppreciate this." The demon ducked his head, hands gripping the counter. He let out a pained grunt and an obscenely undignified belch as he forced the alcohol from his system, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes just a little. Crowley scrunched up his face in disgust and washed down the taste of suddenly-not-drunk with another sip of the cocktail.

"They made this leap so quickly," Aziraphale observed as the anchormen began to look more flustered. "It's only been, what 70 years or so since they started toying with motorised flight?"

"Tenacious, this lot." Crowley side-eyed him. "You didn't have anything to do with this, did you?"

"No," Aziraphale answered truthfully. "In fact I was specifically told to leave the research alone."

"Same."

The whole pub was focusing on the television now as radio broadcasts came in. Radio signals from space - Aziraphale could hardly believe it. If someone had told him a hundred years ago that humans would get to this point so quickly he'd have laughed in their face.

"I was at the launch, you know." Quiet awe coloured Crowley's voice as he watched the screen. "Hopped a flight to Cape Kennedy earlier this week. Oh, it was brilliant, angel; you should've seen it."

The broadcast switched away from the anchors to an indoor studio somewhere. A model lander was being lowered slowly, awkwardly onto a model set, with the caption "CBS News Simulation" beneath it. But with the accompanying radio transmissions, it didn't take too much human imagination to make the visuals match the audio.

The murmuring of the patrons around them died slowly with each minute that passed until the entire room was silent, watching the screen. Even the drunkest of the football fans recognized the weight of what was happening.

"Four forward," crackled the radio signal. "Four forward, drifting to the right a little. Okay, down a half."

Aziraphale risked a glance beside him. Crowley was wholly focused on the television set, stock still and not breathing. In fact, the angel would have bet money that he hadn't remembered to breathe in several minutes. His glasses had slipped a bit down his nose so he could see the broadcast unhindered, and his yellow eyes were wide, waiting, desperate: hope and joy and fear raging behind them in a maelstrom.

"Contact light. Okay, engine stop. ACA out of detent. Mode control, both auto. Descent engine command override off. Engine arm off. 413 is in."

"Man on the moon," one of the news anchors breathed, but the pub held its collective breath. It had to be official. If anything went wrong at the last second...

There was were a few moments of radio static.

"We copy you down, Eagle."

"Houston... Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed."

"Roger, Tranquility. We copy you on the ground-"

The pub exploded, drowning out the rest of the broadcast. Crowley was on his feet, whooping and hollering with the loudest of them. Aziraphale applauded enthusiastically and clacked his glass against the beer of the gentleman beside him. "Well done, humanity! Well done indeed!"

Crowley was jumping up and down and screaming himself hoarse, hugging whatever stranger happened to get close to him and being hugged by other random strangers in return. One of the drunker football girls kissed him full on the mouth and he didn't seem to care in the least, going right back to his screaming as she moved on to kiss the bloke beside him.

Aziraphale couldn't help but bask for a moment in the happiness radiating from the humans around him. It wasn't hard to find excited people if you knew where to look, but it was rare that one found so many people all deliriously excited about the same thing. He could feel a sizable portion of Europe celebrating tonight.

Crowley grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him enthusiastically, breaking him out of his reverie. Aziraphale thought he glimpsed tears glinting from the corners of the sunglasses. "They did it! Angel, they did it!"

"I can see that! It's very hard to miss."

"Sixty centuries and they made it! Take that, You great cosmic killjoy!" This last was hollered at the ceiling but Aziraphale couldn't bring himself to be cross about it, not with so much happiness humming through the air. "Rico! New round for me and him! Ah Heaven, round for the bar!"

"You're cut off, mate!" the bartender yelled back. But a snap wiped his expression clean as that particular thought was miracled out of his head.

"I," Crowley asserted, downing the rest of his cocktail, "am fresh and ready to go. This party's just getting started. Gonna join me, angel? Betcha the news coverage'll go on for ages."

Aziraphale took the offered refill, already tipsy off the joy coming from both the humans and Crowley. "Oh, why not?"

#good omens #good omens fic #apollo 11 #the moon landing #my writing #it's fun listening to the original radio transmissions

[shinylitwick94]

Shinylitwick's summer (SF/)Fantasy reads - Part I

As it turns out trying to complete the r/fantasy book bingo and not wanting to get into heavy reads this year meant that I spent most of my summer reading almost exclusively SFF, and I read a lot of it. I'm sharing my thoughts on these with anyone who might be interested in them. This covers books I read between july and the first week of september 2021. I'll be doing this in two parts because it would be too long otherwise.

As a reminder, these are personal thoughts, not professional reviews, so take everything I say with a grain of salt.

Without further ado:

Under Heaven, by Guy Gavriel Kay

By this point I think I can say pretty firmly I’m a fan of GGK. I just really enjoy his “alternate history with a dash of fantasy” stuff, and I like his writing and the fact that he’s so good at capturing that sort of bittersweet melancholy I’m a huge junkie for.

That being said, Under Heaven started off amazing, spent a lot of time in eh, and finished solid. I like it, but it’s my least favorite of his books so far. I think it essentially suffers from making promises it doesn’t deliver on. There’s a lot of stories which go nowhere, which I’m sometimes fine with, but I don’t think it worked here. Especially with the sister. I have very little familiarity with Chinese history, but from what I’ve read in other reviews, he stuck rather more closely to the history here than he usually does, which maybe limited his ability to maneuver his characters. Still, I would recommend it, if this is your style.

The Last Wish, by Andrzej Sapkowski

I’ve tried reading this before…in Russian. Don’t know why I thought that was a good idea (something about maybe a better translation?). Anyway, my Russian obviously wasn’t up to scratch and the books are polish anyway.

So, English translation it was. As many of you will know this is actually a short story collection, which is the first part of the Witcher book series. I’d already watched the tv show, and played a bit of the game, so some of the stories were new to me, and others weren’t.

I liked how the book highlighted the “twisted fairytale” aspect of some of these (e.g Snow White, Rumplestiltskin) – that didn’t really come across so well in the adaptations. I think altogether it was a fun and enjoyable read.

The Farthest Shore, by Ursula Le Guin (Book 3 in the Earthsea Cycle)

Ursula Le Guin made me cry again. I’ve been talking about Le Guin a lot recently, with a friend who’s read a lot of her nonfiction, but none of her fiction, while I’ve for the most part just read the fiction. She’s one of those authors who just seems to get it, and who knows how to use the genre to its full extent. Magic and dragons aren’t just a toy, but a tool to actually say something.

She does that across the board, of course, but Farthest Shore hit me harder than the other Earthsea books have, maybe because imho it’s the saddest so far. There’s a lot about death, acceptance, and time passing, and responsibility in this which I really liked. I feel like it manages to get its themes across in a way that is crystal clear, but not ham-fisted. I loved this book, I really did, but I feel like I will need to read it again in a few years, and I’m sure it will be a different read then.

One of many nice quotes:

“When I was young, I had to choose between the life of being and the life of doing. And I leapt at the latter like a trout to a fly. But each deed you do, each act, binds you to itself and to its consequences, and makes you act again and yet again. Then very seldom do you come upon a space, a time like this, between act and act, when you may stop and simply be. Or wonder who, after all, you are.”

The Black Company, by Glen Cook (Book 1 in the Chronicles of the Black Company)

This was sold to me as the granddaddy of grimdark fantasy, and I can certainly see it. It’s clearly influenced a lot of later fantasy authors (Erikson, Abercrombie, to some extent Martin). Yet somehow it manages to be less explicit, or graphic, than some modern grimdark. It can be pretty gross too, but it knows how to cut away when necessary and is usually smart about implying things. I also really liked the basic concept of following characters who work for the Dark Lord (or Dark Lady in this case). The characters themselves are interesting enough – in this first book we don’t go super in depth on a lot of them, but the ones we’re stuck with are decent, and the story holds. Still, I felt like this was more a worldbuilding book than a character book, if that makes sense. And I did like the world. It’s appropriately dark and petty and sucks, but hey that’s what we’re here for.

So overall, I enjoyed it and would recommend to anyone who is interested into the more grimdark side of fantasy. Stay away from it if that’s not your thing or you’re super squeamish.

(most of Tumblr dni I guess)

The Empress of Salt and Fortune, by Nghi Vo

This was a fun little read. I had no idea what to expect going in and I ended up enjoying it. The story follows a nonbinary monk as they go through the affairs of a deceased empress and in discussion with Rabbit, the said empress’s servant, learn her story. The story is mostly told by Rabbit and each section follows a particular object. I liked how that was set up and the way in which the whole picture was slowly revealed to the reader. It’s apparently been read as a feminist story and I can see where that reading comes from, and it was likely intentionally so. It wasn’t the most important part of this to me, but up to you to judge.

I will say though, and this is not the book’s fault, but mine, that reading a story where the POV character uses they/them pronouns was more confusing than I anticipated. I kept expecting there to be more of them at random points in the narrative, and having to backtrack to understand.

It’s a short nice read, but definitely something I feel more comfortable recommending to people here than irl.

Equal Rites, by Terry Pratchett (Discworld)

Not much to say here. Discworld is Discworld and can do no wrong, apparently. This might be one of my favorites so far. Loved Granny to pieces, it was fun, it was funny, it was thoughtful without being heavy. It’s the Discworld, what can you do.

The House in the Cerulean Sea, by T.J. Klune

This was pure tooth-rotting fluff, which I think I kind of needed to balance out my reading. It’s cute, it’s cheesy, it’s wholesome it owns it and is proud of it. It’s very LGBT friendly. It’s a good guys win, bad guys lose, discrimination dies today kind of thing.

I’m surprised it’s not bigger on Tumblr tbh (it’s not non-existent either, I checked, just smaller than expected; maybe it’s too nice?).

Anyway, I did like it, and I’m exaggerating just a little bit on the cheesiness. It’s a sweet little story about a character who would normally be played by Martin Freeman (if a bit chubbier) learning that there is more to life than Rules and Regulations and finding love and a family.

If that’s your sort of thing, give it a shot.

#shinylitwick reads books #guy gavriel kay #under heaven #the last wish #andrzej sapkowski #witcher #the farthest shore #earthsea #ursula le guin #the black company #glen cook #the empress of salt and fortune #nghi vo #equal rites #discworld #terry pratchett #the house in the cerulean sea #tj klune #that's a lot of tags #sorry for not putting this under a cut i was lazy #anyway if you have thoughts about any of these to share :)

[firelxdykatara]

Reader anon here!

Hi it's been awhile, I hope you are doing well! I know I am! I have successfully bought more books and filled another shelf in my bookcase and it is just so satisfying to see! I have a shelf dedicated to each genre I like, so one shelf is just erotica and downright smut, while another is high fantasy/YA fantasy! Then at the bottom are my books on mythology and languages!

I am so proud of my collection 😩 and can't wait to get more books. That new book smell is just-🤌🏻

Do you like books that focus on romance or do you like books that focus on more mystery/conflict and have a good chuck of romance? For me, I like both!

Oh omg reader anon I am in awe at your organization skills akflgjhdkfjghdkjfgh

Right now my 'to be read' pile is a literal pile of books (well, multiple piles, but) scattered around my room and the living room and every once in a while I'll pick one up and actually start reading it (I recently started The Lunar Chronicles, in fact, and I'm already fully in love with Linh Cinder, best girl) and then sometimes I'll get halfway through and pick up another book and sdfklghdkfjhgkjdgh ANYWAY IT IS A WHOLE MESS IS WHAT I'M SAYING. I wish I could have an organized bookshelf but I ran out of space in mine ages ago and it is covered in yet more piles of books (though the ones on or around my shelves are mostly ones I've already read, although I've been eyeing Mistborn and The Wyrd Museum for a reread cause it's been so long, but I think if I started rereading old books right now my unread book piles would coalesce into an autonomous figure and beat me over the head with my own readerly ambition lmfao)

As for your question, honestly it really depends on the book! I absolutely love a good romance-focused narrative (emphasis on 'good', bodice rippers don't usually do it for me but sometimes when I'm in the mood I go to my mom's bookshelf and raid it for something cheap and tawdry (affectionate) that hits just the right button I need pressed at that moment, so y'know, it varies), but I also love books where the romance is incidental to the actual plot. In that case, though, I like it best when the romance and character arcs are woven into the plot rather than forcing the plot to conform to them, you know?

Like, I'll use the Grishaverse trilogy as an example here, because I've been rather hyperfixated on it and the extended world lately, but part of the problem I have with that series is that the romance the author clearly wants you to be invested in and root for at the end of the day is the most boring part of the entire story--and yet it quite literally warps the universe of the books around it to make it the most important part of the main character's journey.

You have a world on the brink of full-scale war where the main character has just discovered she is part of an oppressed minority group that are primed for literal annihilation--she is in the only country where her people can get even a pretense of agency and a fulfilling livelihood (Fjerda burns their witches, Shu-han vivisects them, Kerch sells them into slavery, and even in Ketterdam they aren't really safe unless they can make themselves useful enough to earn protection from one gang or another; the Wandering Isle and Novyi Zem may be the exceptions to the rule, but Fantasy Ireland and Fantasy Australia/Africa never matter enough to the story for any of the characters to find out), and yet even when she is suddenly a target for assassination purely because of what she is, there's never any real sense that she actually cares about Grisha as a whole.

Instead, the only thing she really cares about is her childhood romance. Getting back to Mal is the only thing that matters to her. The show tried to give her a little more agency (where in the books, she was pretty much just buffeted this way and that by the whims of the plot and very rarely made her own decisions about anything; and when she did, they were rarely based in any actual logic, and I say this as someone currently forcing my way through the books so that I can more accurately critique them.... it is intensely aggravating as a reader lmao), but they couldn't change the plot too much, so she winds up coming across as even more stupid than in the source material. And still, Mal and the meadow is a constant refrain, for reasons that, as far as I can tell, are never actually explained beyond 'these two kids traumabonded over their experiences growing up in an orphanage in a war-torn country, and they are dangerously codependent as a result'.

In order for the books to end as they do, Alina can't actually give a shit about the plot going on around her. The romance completely overrides the sense that anything else in this world matters, and when the romance is the most boring part of the plot, focusing on it to the exclusion of all else just makes the entire thing fall flatter than a house of cards in a stiff breeze. And that's the kind of romance I usually don't like--which gets thrown into much sharper relief when you go over to Six of Crows and find romances that actually work with the characters and the world and the plot surrounding them, rather than against it.

So that said, tl;dr: I like both too! But if the narrative is going to be romance-focused, then that romance needs to not be the least interesting part of the plot (traumabonded childhood friends to lovers working through that pain and coming out the other side healthier and happier for it can work really well, if you haven't plopped them in the middle of a world and plot that is much more interesting when they are apart), and if the romance is secondary to the plot, then it needs to take a proper back seat and work with the characters and their individual arcs as they move through the world, rather than attempting to force the plot into a different shape so the romance can work.

#reader anon #asked #grishaverse salt #malina salt #anti malina #just in case

[leupagus]

My Stationery Box, or: The Douche Chest, or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Being A Terrible Parody Of Myself

So I really love to write letters, and have since i was a kid — when i cleaned out my grandparents’ house I found a few I’d written in grade school, and my parents’ files are chocablock full of the weird collage type things I sent to them in college. 

I’ve also been a huge insufferable fucking snob about stationery since way too young (yes I did have a fountain pen phase, no it did not go well) and have been collecting fancy paper and cute cards and assorted weird writing paraphernalia forever. Up until recently, things were just kind of haphazardly stuffed in various drawers and shelves and I could never actually find any said fancy shit when I wanted it; but a couple of months ago I discovered an adorable little chest of my late mom’s that had previously housed, I think, her knitting and has mostly just been collecting dust since. And voila: The Douche Chest was born:

(Pictured with my elderly laptop and coffee with my coffee warmer, which I STRONGLY ENCOURAGE everyone to buy one day when we’re not under worldwide quarantine, seriously it will change your life.)

Keep Reading for some top tier stationerdery

First off, the stuff that helps me write! I still use my family address book, which was purchased sometime in the early 80s and has the name and address of everyone my parents ever cared enough about to want their name and address, which is actually not that many people. I keep it updated and have added a few people, but mostly rely on my phone’s address book. Mostly I like it because it’s got a lot of my mom’s handwriting.

My planner, which has a whole correspondence section where I keep a record of who I write to regularly, when I write to them, and what kind of stationery they usually get (because there are different types and you don’t want to give a correspondence an inconsistent letter-reading experience! Yes I know, I can’t believe I’m like this either) indicated by the m, s, x, l, b notations. That will be relevant later. Also yes the planner is where I scribble down both story ideas and my gratitude journal. This is what I’m saying in re: yikes.

At my own house, I have a whole huge box of letters I’ve gotten over the years, mostly organized by sender and date. Since I’m at my aunt’s house for quarantine, my correspondence is all being kept in my dad’s old... I dunno what to call it, basically it’s a trapper-keeper type thing that I literally never saw him go to work without. (A running theme of this tour is that a whole lot of this stuff is inherited from/given to me by my parents and grandparents.) Inside is also various labels that have come in handy when addressing packages etc, as well as our local neighborhood directory.

Next up is my pen bag, which is — I mean, it has my pens. I prefer writing with a black .5 tip rollerball type pen, and by “prefer” I mean “I cannot abide writing letters with anything else and will go to Staples and buy a new box rather than use a ballpoint pen except obv not right now, which makes the bag real important for keeping track of all my special pens.” Also pictured: my grandpa’s ancient letter opener that I’m pretty sure he stabbed multiple people with, and my blue Le Pen which I use to annotate my letters when I’m reading them through before sending. I KNOW.

This is my assorted letter-writing stuff storage box (no we’re not even at the cards yet this is TERRIBLE); please note that I sort of jerryrigged this box together myself, which will be another running theme of this tour. Glue, roller whiteout thingies, washi tape (which I don’t really use but people keep sending me?) post-its and my address stamp because no matter what I do, the fuckin’ Audubon Society refuses to send me a single donation request with cute stickers showing my address even though they’ve sent my deceased dad like three THIS YEAR. Anyway. Also please note the incredibly awesome initial stamp thing — I came up with the rough design in college and use it in place of my name a lot, but I went to leoniebunch and they transformed it into this super professional and lovely design that I want to use for the rest of my life. Not pictured: the fucking wax seal I also had made with that design, because yes, I’m like this.

WE’RE STILL NOT DONE WITH THE PARAPHERNALIA: here’s the other misc. stuff that I use on the regular. Cup with sponge because we’re not really licking envelopes these days: tons of weird stickers that I’ve collected, YET MORE PENS, including rainbow ones because one of these days I’m going to write to one of my friends with alternating rainbow colors and they’ll have to murder me. Also pictured: the letter opener which I forgot to put back in the pen bag, as well as my dog’s nail clippers and brush because that’s a handy place to keep them. Also also pictured: my dog, who does not help in any way with letter writing.

OKAY FINALLY ONTO THE STATIONERY, Jesus just writing this all out is making me both proud and ashamed.

I’m sure you noticed in the first pic how everything is meticulously, not to say monomaniacally, labeled. Some stuff might require a little bit of explanation; some stuff is pretty wysiwyg though. For example, BEAR CARDS, which:

(These are sent exclusively to my nephews, who go absolutely apeshit over them every time. Come to think of it, I have a LOT of cards/letter stock/etc that is just for one person or one set of people, which maybe I should talk to my therapist about.)

PUN CARDS are likewise exactly what you think they are; they’re the most recent addition to my hoard, having found them at Powells when I went to Portland in February. They are extremely My Kind Of Thing.

Then you’ve got things like BIRTHDAY CARDS, THANKS, POSTCARDS which like — guess what:

(Please note that of these birthday cards, all but two were actually inherited from my grandmother who passed away in 1986. See if you can guess which two are my purchases.) (Also I’m running out of thank-you cards but to be fair I am rarely grateful so this should last me another few years at least.) (Also shit, I didn’t take a picture of the postcards I don’t think? Whatever, they’re postcards that I’ve either inherited from my parents or collected over the years. There’s also a very odd collection of wolf-themed cards that SOMEONE in my family collected, and that I have been using exclusively for allighater because she’s the only one who could ever appreciate them enough.)

Then there’s the BLANK CARDS and BLANK AND WRITTEN CARDS WITH/WITHOUT ENVELOPES, because sometimes I just need to know what I’m getting into before opening the boxes. I’d say a good 50% of these were inherited from my folks, with the cutsier ones being my own purchases. The cards that these boxes originally contained are looooooooong since used up but they’re nice boxes and that meme about adulthood being an endless debate over whether or not you should keep a box because it’s a really good box is accurate as all hell. 

(There are a lot of cards in here that I bought when I was like, in college — those square ones, for example, were purchased at Faces in Northampton when I was in college and I’m probably never going to actually send them which is kind of ridiculous but see: this entire post.)

And finally, the actual letter-letter stationery! Which I also have an embarrassing amount of! First up is what’s labelled MADOC TREE CARD/LETTER because I honestly had no idea how else to describe it; it was inherited from my grandma who everyone called MaDoc (on account of her being both a ma and a doctor, go figure) and it’s really lovely. I doubt it’s the original intention, but I like to unfold the paper and use both sides of it, because I always have a lot to say. These are used only for family members on MaDoc’s side, and of those, only the ones I really like, which accounts for there still being a lot left.

Then there’s the X-LARGE paper, which isn’t actually that large — it’s just normal computer-sized — but in context is the biggest stuff I’ve got. All of this paper is from my mom, who loved using cute themed paper, and I use this stuff mostly for the friends of hers I keep in touch with (which is actually kind of a lot).

Then there’s the letterhead I use for — okay, so like, we know by now that I’m deeply weird, but this is probably just DEEPLY WEIRD, but whatever, you came this far. So I found a metric shitton of 6 3/4 envelopes in amongst my parents’ office supplies — I have literally zero idea why they had about 5 100-count boxes of these envelopes but I’m one of those people who can never, ever throw shit out, so! I gathered together all the letterhead that they’d also collected over the years from the various universities and hospitals they worked at, cut said letterhead down so that it a) didn’t have University of Tacoma or whatever still on it and b) perfectly fit a 6 3/4 envelope if folded three times. The resulting shape is a little... odd, I’ll admit, but it pleases me greatly and that’s the important thing. In fact this has been my go-to correspondence choice for a couple of months now.

(Also pictured: the cover for this hinky-ass box I made out of a Beekman 1802 box from when we went to their store for their Rose Apothecary popup shop. Zero regrets. Not pictured: the really cute pad of paper I also use for these envelopes that’s a more normal size and shape because where’s the fun in showing you normal stuff?)

And finally, my pride and joy, my Crane Stationery, some of which I have had since I was in high school and my mom bought me a box of it for my birthday (I told you, running theme). It comes in small, medium, and big; yes, I absolutely have rules as to who gets what size of these, too. The medium box kind of fell apart a few years ago so I cobbled a new one together; Crane stationery is notable for not being as exciting as that cover might imply. I’m also kind of pleased that I still have the airmail stationery that I got in college that apparently isn’t sold anymore, which I find baffling because what the fuck is the point of international correspondence if you don’t have to use special stationery? Anyway:

(In re: the lined sheets — I actually have them for every size, because I loathe lined paper but also loathe writing crooked, hence these guides that I put under each sheet as I write. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

So that’s the complete guided tour! If you aspire to have a collection as viscerally unnerving as mine, feel free to send any questions my way. You’re welcome/I’m sorry.

#'you're welcome/I'm sorry' is ALSO a running theme #anyway a whole three people on twitter wanted this so tadaaaa #stationery station

[litwitlady]

When You Go, Take Me With You

On a warm July morning, Thomas Mann – not his real name, mind you – finds himself hauling ass down 285, praying that the airstream doesn’t come unhitched. Tommy has spent the last 11 months in Santa Fe grifting seniors in assisted living facilities out of their hard-earned nest eggs. But someone’s greedy little grandson finally noticed his grandmother’s savings dwindling away and called the authorities. He’s been riding hard all night and can’t remember the last time he ate. But he’s got a rap sheet three pages long and knows if he gets caught, he’ll never see the light of day again.

Eventually, his stomach wears him down, though, and he stops in Roswell at a kitschy little diner he hopes he can disappear into long enough to satisfy his basic needs. Halfway through his cheese fries, three sheriff’s deputies walk in and as they are chatting with the waitress at the counter, Tommy sneaks out and takes the scenic route back towards his pickup. He can’t really say he’s much surprised to find the actual Sheriff knocking on the airstream’s door. Knowing he’s lost this battle, he decides to cut his losses and run. The old Ford pickup is eventually auctioned off, but the airstream ends up in the impound lot collecting dust for the next year.

And then one day Michael Guerin accidentally illegally parks his truck on the Long farm where he promptly passes out drunk across the bench seat. Daddy Long calls the Sheriff and Michael’s arrested. Again. Max bails him out and drives him over to the Chavez County impound lot to collect his truck. And that’s where Michael Guerin falls in love for the second time in his life. The shiny, silver airstream gleams in the morning sunlight and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Not in a long while, anyway. He convinces Max to bargain with the county in order to buy the airstream for him. Michael knows they will laugh him out of the precinct, but Max is one of their own. He parts ways with every single penny he’s ever made, but he’s rewarded with the first permanent roof he’s ever had.

Not that Michael expects the trailer to be a permanent thing. After all, no home has ever been forever. Most haven’t lasted longer than a year or so. Besides his truck, of course. The mere idea that the airstream is mobile proves the impermanence of the situation. He can flit from place to ungodly place without settling down with any actual intent. There’s beauty in the nomadic nature of it all. Mostly, he doesn’t have to worry about being rained on any longer or crashing on Isobel’s sofa or cuddling up with Sanders’ dog. So, he’s happy. Content. Proud, even.

The trailer is cramped. The engine is shit. And the toilet is literally two feet from where he lays his head at night. How he convinces any of his hookups to climb into that tiny bed with him is anyone’s guess. There’s been more than one conquest sent home with multiple bruises. Once he burns a piece of toast so badly that he can’t sleep inside for a week. There’s no storage, the floor is lopsided, and Isobel refuses to step inside for two whole years. But hey, nothing’s perfect.

After a year together, Michael and the airstream find a balance that works for them. He covers the windows with old newspaper, adapts to being very, very tidy, and sleeps outside when the claustrophobia sets in. He even fashions a front patio out of some old oak pallets he finds in the junkyard. In return, the trailer gives him privacy, a sense of autonomy, and a place to bring Alex Manes when he returns from his first tour overseas. And every tour after that.

Not that he was looking to bring Alex back to his place, of course. He hadn’t even known Alex was back. And then suddenly, there he is. Laughing with Arturo in the Crashdown. Michael hardly recognizes him with the regulation haircut and newly lean body. He tells himself to walk away, but the universe has other ideas. Alex spots him and his whole face lights up. No one has ever looked at Michael like that and he’s lost all over again.

Over the next decade, the airstream begins to collect memories. Isobel blowing the door open and taking her first steps inside to shout at him that she’s engaged. Max showing up at 3 am like clockwork every year on Liz Ortecho’s birthday because he’s smashed and doesn’t want to hear Iz’s lectures. The Sheriff’s random visits for one reason or another; he suspects she’s spying on him. The brief time he lets an old, senior dog share his space. There’s still dog hair in the many nooks and crannies.

And then there’s Alex.

He’s everywhere - in every corner, every empty inch of space – filling up the entire trailer. Sprawled naked across the narrow bed, one long, gorgeous leg hanging off the side. Standing over the small stove laughing as Michael teaches him how to make the perfect omelet. Two old Air Force t-shirts stashed deep in his closet that Michael will swear up and down he doesn’t know exist. The silly little cartoon of a cowboy he’s scribbled on every single yellowed newspaper taped to the windows. And the one solitary heart drawn in permanent ink right above Michael’s pillow. He’ll never admit how many times he’s traced that doodle and prayed that Alex’s heart is still beating.

Not every memory is happy, however. He and Alex have always fought as hard as they’ve loved. How many times Alex has stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoing off the trailer’s tinny walls, door hinges growing whinier as the years go by. Tears shed in anger and in desperate sadness every time the Air Force calls him back to some violent conflict a world away. Damn near feral sex fucked out through those same tears. The sun rising over two beaten, broken hearts the next morning. Another goodbye. Another lonely year stretching out into the desert wasteland. And suddenly the airstream feels suffocating and enduring. Set in stone and unmovable as Alex walks away one more time.

In the in-between times, Michael nurses his bruised heart out on Foster’s Ranch, punishing his body with grueling manual labor. He settles the trailer into an anonymous patch of dust and scrub brush. He begins to collect various trailer accoutrement. First, a rusted, used patio set he grabs off someone’s teetering trash pile. Next, a ‘free parking’ sign he finds abandoned on the side of Route 60. On Alex’s next leave, he’ll mark out the ‘free’ and write ‘no’ in its place. Michael will try hard not to overthink the implication. Isobel says he’s nesting, jokes that he should hang up a cross-stitched ‘Home Sweet Home’. Michael begins to panic.

At the end of ten years, he gives up. The airstream is home. There’s no point in denying the most basic fact of his existence any longer. The impermanent is now permanent. He flicks off the tin bucket and then lovingly wipes away some mud caked on the tire well. Love/hate, defined.

He returns to the trailer after another stint in the drunk tank (a home away from home, if you will) to find a uniformed Alex Manes knocking on his door. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised to find him there – Isobel, after all, had been the one to organize his hero’s parade down Main Street. But it’s been two years with no contact – the longest they’ve ever gone – and so when Alex turns to meet his eyes, the breath is knocked right out of him. So begins another cycle of fight or flight. The airstream will play centerstage. He can almost hear the aging trailer sigh.

But this time the cycle ends differently. Michael moves the airstream into the Wild Pony’s parking lot, shocking everyone. Ostensibly to keep Maria DeLuca safe. But really just to be near her energy, her spirit, her laughter. He hopes to love her. He wants to be good for someone, goddammit. But deep down he’s worried he never will be. That he’s about as solid and steady as his home on wheels. Good enough for a little while, but never long enough to last. Always ready to roll off a cliff with the slightest push.  

He hates when he’s right.

Maria breaks up with him in a hospital room. The next night he meticulously searches the airstream for anything she might have left behind. A shoe, a bra, some lipstick. But there’s nothing and he feels like the trailer is out to get him, shoving those two old Air Force t-shirts in his face. The tiny, scribbled cowboys serenading him with derisive laughter. The black heart mocking him. And Michael can’t take it anymore. He slams the airstream’s door shut, nearly knocking it off its stupid creaky hinges and calls Isobel, all but demanding she meet him at the Pony. He needs a drink. Maybe several. And a shoulder to brood on. Perhaps he should call Max instead.

Michael doesn’t expect open mic night. He doesn’t expect Alex Manes and his dumb angel voice. He doesn’t expect to be confronted with the one answer he’s always wanted. But home is a tricky business. Especially for an alien stranded in the foster care system on the wrong planet. As Alex sings his song – asking Michael to come home – everything becomes crystal clear. And Michael tries to telepathically tell the airstream to go fuck itself. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t work.

Because here’s the thing. Home can be a person.

The answer has always been that easy and that impossible. And the airstream has always known. Watching all these years as the two of them danced around each other. The ultimate grift. The longest con job this side of the Milky Way. Michael Guerin has been played, marked, and left wanting. His genius brain duped and cheated. The airstream has never been more than a shit engine and lopsided floors.

After Michael leaves the Pony that night, he moves in with Isobel. And he goes to work. On himself – AA meetings, college classes, mending all his relationships with Max, with Maria. With Alex. And on the airstream – gutting the inside and converting the space into an admittedly revolutionary eco-friendly garden greenhouse.

Once the project is finished, he attaches the toe hitch to his Chevy and heads east until he pulls into the Chavez County Children’s Home. The director meets him outside and shakes his hand with tears in her eyes. Michael walks her and several of the children through the garden, excitedly explaining all the vegetables and flowers he’s planted. Isobel arrives to take pictures for the local paper and secretly shed several of her own tears. She watches Michael happily playing with all the kids and teaching them the wonders of composting. Soon, he gives her a kiss on the cheek and climbs back into his truck. He’s got one final stop to make.

As he drives through the center of Roswell, something swells in Michael’s chest. He knows this place so well – has been arrested on nearly every corner. The Crashdown has always welcomed him with a warm meal and silly antennae. New Roswell High – with all its memories, good and bad. The UFO Emporium – or what was the UFO Emporium – with its fake alien displays and empty corners perfect for kissing sweet emo boys with the biggest of hearts. Of all the places to crash land, Roswell hasn’t turned out so bad. It’s truly a stunning conclusion.

When he arrives at his destination, he pulls into the driveway next to Alex’s green Explorer, grabs his two duffel bags, and heads to the front door. He opens the lock with his key and shouts to Alex that he’s home.

#michael guerin #malex #malex fic #i never thought i'd write something michael centric #not sure it works but i tried #so have 2K words and fuck the 4th

[palimpsessed]

The Welsh Red Dragon, Kurt Vonnegut, and Social Activism

The inspiration behind Shepard’s pins

(original post with full artwork here.)

So, I spent A LOT of time thinking about the kind of pins our good friend Shepard (from Omaha, NE) would have on his denim jacket. Like a lot. Like an obsessive amount of time. I made a list, which seemed appropriate for this fandom. And because I’m a nerd and this sort of thing really interests me, and I’m proud of what I came up with, and because I think some of these items open up the possibility for some good, good literary analysis, I decided to make a whole post dedicated to Shepard’s pins. You’re welcome.

First, a little bit about my thought process. How did I decide what kind of pins to give Shepard? Well, he’s a guy full of stories. Stories that he can’t wait to tell anyone and everyone. And stories that others (mostly Maybes) have told him, once he’s earned their confidence. So, I wanted his pins to tell a story, his story in particular. What is the story that Shepard wants to tell about himself? More precisely, what is the story he wants to tell his new magickal friends on a disastrous summer holiday? The story is that of his own magickal credibility. His journey to magic (his come to Crowley moment, perhaps?) (I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry…) and his trustworthiness as evidenced by all of the Maybes he’s met along the way. He’s gotten drunk off dandelion wine with a creek dryad, given a toothbrush to a Sasquatch. spilled the tea with a jackalope, midwifed a centaur foal. Shep’s journey is just as impressive as Simon’s, and while Simon has been collecting notches on his dead dark creature bedpost (that’s a weird fucking metaphor…) (and now I’m thinking about dark creatures and Simon’s bedposts…so, you’re welcome, Basilton), Shep’s been collecting notches of the friendly variety. (Shoutout to @adamarks who did some super lovely analysis on Simon and Shep as mirrors here: https://adamarks.tumblr.com/post/188046272067/ok-so-when-shepard-said-he-was-cursed-the-first). So, I decided that I wanted to use Shep’s pins as a way to show the notches on his bedpost, so to speak. (Okay, I’m really losing this metaphor, but I think you’re still with me.)

Let’s dive in!

(I’m working my way down one side of his jacket at a time, for those following along at home.)

RIGHT SIDE

Welsh Dragon: I made this one very large, and easy to spot on his right shoulder. Of all of his accoutrements, this one felt like the most important. Mainly, because of Simon. Simon is, after all, half-Welsh. (The Mage, may he rest in pain, came to Watford from Wales.) And, of course, Simon, just like the Welsh Dragon, is a red dragon. (Or in the process of becoming one? Or a half-dragon? Or a dragon kitten?…) And the dragon that Simon and Baz fought on the Watford lawn, when they first worked together, and first shared magic, was a red dragon. Of course, the actual dragon in question here is Margaret. Shepard would absolutely have a pin to commemorate his friendship with her. And since I was going to give him a pin with a dragon, I knew I was going to have to use the Welsh Dragon because it would perfectly capture his burgeoning friendship with Simon, as well. Now, I want to go on a slight detour here (this blog post will be its own Odyssey) and talk more about the Welsh Red Dragon. I took the design for the pin from the Welsh flag, which is the thing that first made me think more about Simon’s Welsh connection. I’m not really making a point here, I just think it’s fascinating! There’s a lot of Welsh lore about the Red Dragon (and Margaret herself calls Simon “Great Red” - that ‘R’ is capitalized, by the way, so this seems to be a proper name for the kind of dragon that she thinks Simon is). Full disclosure, I am not Welsh and I am not a scholar on any of this by any means. That being said, a cursory, and super academic, perusal of the Wikipedia article on the Welsh Dragon led me to a few different history websites that linked the symbol of the red dragon with Merlin and King Arthur (son of Uther Pendragon, literally dragon head). Merlin, one of the most well-known magical figures and Arthur, one of the most well-known Chosen One figures in literary tradition. I know very little about Arthurian legend, and Welsh history, and dragon lore, though, so I’m going to just say, do a little research on your own when you’re bored and feeling nerdy!

Resist!: Shep is a young black man (and reasonable human being) living in the U.S. during the [redacted] Administration. I should hope this one is self-explanatory.

Hoover Dam: At some point in his visits to see Blue, I’m sure Shepard stopped off at the gift shop and bought himself a souvenir pin to mark the incredible experience he had making friends with an actual river. (This pin design is based on an actual souvenir pin of the Hoover Dam I found on Google Images—along with most of the other pin designs. I think it’s vintage, which just felt even more like Shepard to me, because he’s the kind of guy who would appreciate stuff that’s got a past.)

Deathly Hallows: I mean, IF the Harry Potter books/movies exist in the Simon Snow universe (which hasn’t been confirmed, as far as I know, by our Queen) I’m sure Shepard would have been totally into it as a kid, and probably would have found greater significance in its magical lore once he discovered that ACTUAL MAGIC EXISTS! So, he would have a pin to show his belief in the magickal world, and maybe also as a nostalgic reminder of when magic was still just something fictional he could turn to for escapism (and not something that would result in being cursed by a demon…).

The Truth is Out There: So, I know virtually nothing about The X-Files (my sister was obsessed with it to the point that she wanted to become a FBI agent for a few years, but I never watched it), but I’m sure Shepard is a fan. If nothing else, the sentiment is awfully apropos.

So It Goes: This one is very hard to see. It sort of looks like a black teardrop with a bar on top of it (it’s supposed to look like a bomb). The pin I based this off of reads “So It Goes”, which from my very superficial research, is a line repeated in Vonnegut’s anti-war novel Slaughterhouse-Five every time someone dies. I don’t know anything more about it, other than that it is a Kurt Vonnegut-inspired pin available for purchase on Etsy, and Shep mentions that he wanted to get a Vonnegut quote tattoo, even though “everybody has those.”

Green Alien Head: You will never be able to convince me that Shepard does not 10,000% believe in the existence of aliens. If he were still in the U.S. during the Area 51 Raid, I’m sure he would have stopped by, just, you know, for science…(I’m thinking he was probably still in the UK, but I guess we’ll see in AWTWB.)

Centaur: This one is also hard to see, but I took the design from a pin I found of one of the centaurs (the blue-haired, blue-bodied one, if that rings a bell for you) from Disney’s Fantasia. (Fun fact: I was super into Fantasia as a littlun, and I attribute my lifelong love for classical music in large part to the centaur sequence and my latent lesbianism—I mean, it was ludicrously erotic. Watch it sometime and tell me it would not make an impression on a sapphic three-year-old.) Midwifing a centaur foal was probably a very emotional and formative experience for Shepard. Buying this pin would be his way of remembering that experience, and the excitement and gratitude he likely felt to have been entrusted with that kind of acceptance from the centaur(s).

Jackalope: It doesn’t help that this pin is almost the same color as Shepard’s jacket, but it’s based off a design of a jackalope’s head that, again, I found on Google Image search (honestly, I don’t know how I ever made art without it). We know that Shepard once got some gossip from a jackalope, who vented to him about magicians calling “themselves ‘magicians’”, like “they’re the only ones with magic”. (This is totally irrelevant, but I always think of Americans when I read this. I am an American, by the way. America is a continent, but those of us living in the U.S. calls ourselves Americans, like everyone else living in America doesn’t matter.) Anyway, the jackalope offered Shepard some valuable insight into the political workings of the magickal world, so it gets its own pin.

LEFT SIDE

Pansexual Pride Flag Pin: I mean, technically, canonically, we don’t know what Shepard’s sexuality (or asexuality) is, but I just get some vibes from him. Plus, if we take him as a mirror for Simon (who is somewhere on the bi-plus spectrum), it’s not a far cry to imagine he also identifies somewhere on that spectrum.

Pentagram: This is another symbol that I chose based on my interpretation of Shepard’s character, and not so much on a Maybe or a story that he mentioned. The pentagram, or pentacle, is typically associated with the occult and witchcraft, which is something that could potentially also be said of Shep.

Sasquatch: You don’t go backpacking—or not backpacking—and introduce a Sasquatch to the benefits of dental hygiene without getting yourself a souvenir of the hike.

I [heart] Mystery Spot: The Mystery Spot is a weird sort of phenomenon in California (my home state). It’s a place outside the beach town of Santa Cruz that boasts of a “gravitational anomaly” on its website. I went once, years ago, and while you’re there, it can feel pretty convincing. (Also, I was probably like 10, so…) People outside of California will likely never have heard of this place, but driving around here (at least in the Bay Area, where I am, which isn’t that far from Santa Cruz) you’ll see yellow Mystery Spot bumper stickers on cars everywhere. I’m not really sure what the thing is with the bumper stickers. Like, I’m sure not that many people actually think it’s legit, and maybe it’s like one of those things that Californians just do (like freak out and forget how to drive when we feel water falling from the sky). But yeah, these bumper stickers are everywhere. Anyway, Shepard drives around a lot. He knows about the Vampires of Las Vegas (how is that not an indie rock band?) and the Katherine Hotel, and the Next Blood. So, he’s probably made it past Nevada and into California before. And while he was there, it’s not a great stretch of the imagination that someone who chases after magic wouldn’t wind up at a place called the Mystery Spot and get himself a pin while he was there. (And maybe even a bumper sticker.)

Black Power Fist: Unfortunately, this one is also hard to see, because the fist is black and I didn’t have anything to go over the outlines of the fingers with, which I sort of didn’t think about when I colored it. This one also feels self-explanatory. Shepard is black. Blackness has long been treated in itself as a crime by non-black members of law enforcement, and just the general racist population of the U.S. Young black men are especially vulnerable to racially motivated violence. I’m sure Shep, who drives all over the country by himself and gets into high speed chases at night in the middle of nowhere Nebraska while hunting super shifty rando Maybes has had a run-in or two. Stay safe, Shep!

Every Pronoun Belongs Here [Trans Pride Flag background]: Also, super hard to see because the letters are too small to read. I found this exact pin in a basket by the register at my local bookshop. (Support local bookshops, people!) They were being sold as a fundraiser for a LGBTQ club at one of the high schools, and I loved the idea that I could help them raise money and add this pin to my own growing collection to show off my support for trans rights. (Support trans rights and trans people, people!) I decided to give Shepard this same pin, because I could imagine him having an almost identical book buying experience in a dozen other towns that he’s probably visited. And I love the simplicity of the message, because it’s one of belonging, which EVERYONE is desperately seeking, no matter who they are or how they identify, and Shepard, and every character in this picture, is no exception. (Plus, it seemed like a cool way to connect my pin collection with Shep’s. Maybe I should have mentioned the fact that I’m also a pin person at the beginning? I walk to work and on my lunch breaks, so I carry all of my stuff in a backpack. And I proudly display my random pin collection on my backpack. Including several Simon Snow-related pins.)

Don’t Panic: This was based off a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy pin. I don’t really know anything about the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (including if it’s okay to abbreviate it as HGG? THGTTG? whatever), even though I did watch the movie years back when it was on TV and I still lived with my parents who had a TV. But the sentiment felt appropriate, and Shepard is a sort of magickal hitchhiker. Apart from managing to hold down a job at Dick Blick, he appears to lead a somewhat nomadic lifestyle. He tells Penny, “the road is my teacher”, and if that’s not a hitchhiker slogan, I don’t know what is. (Ass, gas, or grass?)

Black Lives Matter: They do. Just sayin’.

Magic Troll Doll: When I was growing up, the Troll doll was all the (nightmare-inducing) rage. Trolls are one of those magickal creatures that are continually mentioned in the series. Shepard talks about lonely trolls under bridges. Simon talks about killing trolls. Agatha would rather kiss a troll. And Baz was kidnapped by numpties, who are sort of like trolls. I couldn’t not include a troll. And the Troll doll specifically felt perfect, because the full name was Magic Troll Doll. You can bet if Shepard had to pick a troll-related pin, it would be a magic(k)al one.

[Asshole]: This is another Kurt Vonnegut pin. It looks like a messily drawn asterisk (*), but it’s actually meant to be an asshole (taken from the preface of Vonnegut’s novel Breakfast of Champions, and drawn by Vonnegut himself). I just thought, why the fuck not? So, here. Have an asshole pin. (I should have put it on a buttonhole…)

HONOURABLE MENTION

Shepard’s Phone Case: Remember that line I quoted earlier, about Shep wanting to get a Vonnegut quote tattoo? Well, when I was trying to figure out what to put on his phone case, I thought that seemed like a reasonable place to start. So, I googled Vonnegut quotes, to see if I could find one that I thought Shepard would like. Here’s the quote: “a purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.” I just loved that for Shepard.

#shepard #from omaha #hi im shepard #im from omaha nebraska #my art #headcanons #carry on fanart #simon snow series #carry on #wayward son #any way the wind blows #rainbow rowell #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #agatha wellbelove #baz pitch #penny bunce #are not in this but i'm tagging them anyway #random british spellings for no reason #penelope bunce

[urproblematicfav-arsonk]

There's a lot of things about Borderlands 3 that makes it kinda a garbage game. And all of those things are valid and true but a aspect of bl3 that deeply bothers me isn't something I've really seen people talk about?? Maybe they have but I missed it but I want to say my interpretation. (Also like, spoiler warning throughout all of this post)

To start off with: hi, I'm a autistic afab nonbinary person and this is relevant for this little rant I'm bout to go on.

I want to begin by stating why I love this franchise so much.

Borderlands, whether you like it or not, is INCREDIBLY queer. And not in a coded kind of way, it's just flat out gay as fuck. And that means so fucking much to me. Borderlands 2 was one of the first times I ever felt fully represented in a game. Zer0 being this dumbass making Yugioh references and generally being a fun garbage boy and also being nonbinary meant a lot to me and I adore him to this day (nonbinary people can use gendered pronouns fuc off). And getting more and more into this series and finding out that basically every character was on some level queer was really cool to me. Maya being asexual and most of the characters being attracted to multiple genders so honestly and off handily was so refreshing and amazing to get to play through. The casual mentions of a woman's wife or some man's husband in the echo's you find or Moxxi talking about her ex girlfriends was one of the reasons I loved this so much.

Another thing I loved particularly about Borderlands 2 was how feminist it was. I can not tell you how quickly I lost my shit at Mr. Torgue talking about the friend zone being misogynistic(it is btw). And the repeated jokes about fully murdering men for being rude to women was some of the highlights of my first playthrough. Punching a guy till he explodes because he disrespected a sex worker?? Fucking immaculate.

SPEAKING OF SEX WORK.

Mad Moxxi is a icon. She is a mother of MULTIPLE children, a survivor of rape and assault and a fucking bad bitch who runs a now intergalactic titty bar. Getting to have not only a sex worker be respected in a narrative, Moxxi is fun and a genuinely complex character who isn't defined by her job or her appearance. She is emotional and strong and funny and flawed but amazing person.

And then there's the way the male characters a represented and treated. I'll be honest here, I haven't really played Borderlands 1, mostly because have been spoiled by auto pick up and also I just didn't feel like it. So my idea of most of the men are based entirely off of Bl2, the pre-sequel and Tales. Anyway, Mordecai in particular is a character I really liked upfront. I love how a lot of his motivation and character is driven by his love of animals and Bloodwing. He's kind and though troubled knows when to get his shit together and be there when he needs to be. His casual "are you okay?" After the latter falls in the Arid Nexus was such a nice moment and the way he genuinely tries to be there emotionally for all of the people around him who he cares for is so fucking rare to see in a male character. And his arc of giving up alcohol to focus on being a better bird dad and you getting to help Brick make Mordecai a special gift to celebrate his sobriety is so amazing and I'm so proud of him.

Mr. Torgue is my dad and I love him. As mentioned, he is normal and believes that the friend zone is absolute garbage talk is ICONIC™ and the best scene in that game fight me. Torgue is a crybaby. He is an emotional person who is not afraid to express his pain and hurt when people are mean to him. He respects women and loves unicorns. The fact that is physical appearance is a big muscle guy who screams but is the literal opposite of toxic masculinity will forever make him the best male character of all time and I love him and he is my dad.

Roland was a character that I was never in particularly attached to but I still respect him and did enjoy his presence. I really appreciated his leadership style being primarily based on empathy and logic as opposed to him being a big meanie man with a HUGE dick who yells at people. I always really resonated with the echo from Tannis talking about how she came to Sanctuary. Roland going out of his way to bring Tannis to safety while completely respecting her autism and struggle with socializing really made his death hit harder when Tannis was very obviously distraught by losing him. It really seems that Roland was the only one who didn't treat her differently. And as someone who's autistic, finding people who legit 100% understand and respect you and just let you live the way you want/need to is kinda hard and those are the qualities I'd personally want in a leader.

Angel is also a big spot of affection for me. Handsome Jack being a irrefutably horrible person who Angel flat out says gaslights people and killed her means a lot to me considering 99% of Bad Parent stories end with "I forgive u" getting to see an abusive victim take that narrative and say fuck you was powerful and meant a lot to me coming from my own abusive home life.

There's a lot of other things I love about Borderlands but if I keep going I won't stop lol so let's get into why Borderlands 3 makes me so uncomfortable.

One of the main things that bothered me was the sexism. Its nothing too horrifying but given how feminist bl2 was it was really shocking and a bit hurtful the number of times women are called bitches or made to seem crazy. If you recall I brought up how you punch a man to death for calling a woman a bitch? Yea no, in this game we mock women for having boundaries and opinions because lol she's just a CRAZY BITCH who just needs to stop acting so hysterical am I right guys?

Yea the whole mission with that stupid bear thing and his ex robot girlfriend made me insanely uncomfortable and upset. I kept waiting for the gotcha moment where it says actually this bear guy is a dick and he shouldn't use language like that but no we just,,,,,, are supposed to laugh along. I hate it.

Even though Borderlands 3 is still very much queer, this game introducing 2 new trans characters as well as a whole DLC about a gay marriage and one of the playable characters being a lesbian there was this some shit that bothered me.

The mission where you crash and ruin a lesbian wedding.

That mission made so upset and uncomfortable. I hated how traumatized and hurt Tumorhead was as I murdered her family and wife. I hated how unfulfilling the mission was where PLOT TWIST the lady was actually a spy or whatever. I hate how there's a mission about ruining some poor psycho ladies wedding. I would've much more preferred a mission where Idk Bloodshine asks you to help her kill a spy who's causing problems and then fucking go around Promethea collecting wedding decorations or something. OR MAYBE JUST NOT A MISSION WHERE YOU KILL LESBIANS FOR NO FUCKING REASON.

I'm mad, anyway.

I also hated how Tannis was treated in this game. Under absolutely no circumstance would Doctor Patricia Tannis ever willingly take up a position of leadership. She is a severely autistic woman who gets nose bleeds from talking to people she wouldn't just be like "I'm in charge now pls talk to me!!!" Fuck off. And the joke about her dating a minecart isn't funny. The whole thing with the chairs, though funny in its absurdities was still a very important and powerful moment of character exploration. Tannis is insane. She is traumatized and hurt and in a moment of severe torture, she humanized some inanimate objects to cope. Tannis crying over the echo over Phillip is a heartbreaking moment of true vulnerability. It is also funny, because that's how good dark comedy works. It can be both hysterical and emotionally ruining at the same time. So what exactly does Tannis divorcing a minecart mean? What is this saying about her character? Why is it funny? Because lol lol reference??? Again, fuck off.

I hate how the Calypso twins childhood is handled. Troy implies it was horribly abusive and traumatic. But when we met Typhon whatever, he acts like it wasn't that bad??? He acts like he just didn't buy his kids the latest iPhone and oh no whoopsie now they're evil, my bad guys. It feels super weird and I don't like it.

Speaking of abusive parents. THEY DID MY GIRL ANGEL DIRTY SO BAD. This was literally when I decided I hated this game. Angel being the one who killed her mother and not Jack was fucking horrible. Especially after the literal foreshadowing in borderlands 2 implying he did. The fact that Jack is treated like a fearful man making what he thought was the right decision was insulting. I get that MattPat manipulated the fandom into thing Jack is a uwu bean but fuck you, you're the writers and you should fucking know better. Handsome Jack saw his daughter had power and turned her into a living battery for him to use as he saw fit. He was not scared and he was NOT right. Fuck you and fuck you for framing child abuse as chill and ok if your spooked enough like that. And the mission directly contradicts the echo's in Get To Know Jack. If Angel killed her mom why does she ask Jack where her mommy is when he's putting her in her chambers?? Why is it in the echo Jack is aggressive and forcibly and hurtfully makes her go into her chambers but in the memory, he's quiet and passive about it?? That's literally just flat out bad writing. Also fuck you.

Anyway,

I think that's really all I wanted to say about this topic. Obviously, there are also things that suck about bl3 but I'll try to chill and not make this too long.

I mostly wanted to make this to see if people cared/are bothered by the same things I am. I've seen how some of the fandom treats the more emotional and gay aspects of this franchise(the people throwing a fit over Amara, the friend zone line, not respecting trans peoples pronouns, sexualizing and being gross about Moxxi)

Anyway that's it byeeeeeeeeeeeee

#rant time #i was also gonna post this on reddit but it turns out i don't know how to use that app lol #so i prob wont #but dont worry still got tumblr #anyway #borderlands #borderlands spoilers #borderlands 3 spoilers #borderlands 3 #borderlands 2

[ecoamerica]

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[secret-engima]

nammuellyll

@secret-engima congrats, you woke the monster. ardyn in my hero academia. there. go wild.

Me: MWAHAHAHAHA. You say that like I regret it >:DDD

-Ardyn in this wakes up post The Great Stabbing and is ... more than a little annoyed. Hello. He wanted the afterlife experience. HELLO WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS DESTINY OF FADING TO COSMIC DUST.

-But no. Apparently he gets to have a “second chance” to “be a hero”.

-Just let one of the Astrals show themselves, he’ll show where to put that “second chance”-.

-Anyway. Ardyn is Ardyn, he looks like he did in canon but he’s sane again. Oddly enough he’s still got both his armiger magic, his super healing, and some of his scourge-like abilities (scary face included). He’s not corrupted tho. Ardyn isn’t sure what to make of that.

-Goes and hobos around for a while, getting used to this world and the fact that everyone looks like a storybook encounter with cursed items gone wrong. Picks up a Smol Traumatized Child that can disintegrate things with his fingers off the streets because Why Not, Let’s Both Be Homeless Together Kiddo, then in short order gets himself known as a Major Villain when he finds a trafficking ring and, since Ardyn is Not Exactly Moral Even If Arguably Sane, he slaughters them to the last man.

-Ardyn is known on the news via grainy footage that only catches glimpses of his scourge face and a lot of rumor, he laughs his head off when the ONE soundbite they manage to get from the scene leads to his being named Adagium. AGAIN. Okay he walked into that one.

-Uses the resources of the no-longer-operational trafficking ring to set up a nice restaurant bar with a secret (illegal) clinic in the back. He makes dishes exclusively from his original time period and so the food is known as very eccentric but good. Ardyn rapidly gets the wackiest duel rep in history. To the mainstream/police/pro heroes he’s a shadowy super-murderer named Adagium. To the underworld and the homeless, the quirkless and the children, Adagium is a name that means hope and shelter, healing and comfort and a monster that protects its own rather than giving meaningless promises, all in exchange for simple favors like clothes and information and school books for his child.

-Ardyn makes special one-finger gloves for Tenko so that he can touch touch stuff without worrying about destroying it. He also, at some point, picks up the rest of the not-LoV by pure happenstance. Toga comes into his clinic hunting a patient, he scolds her, puts her in time-out, then gives her a lolli with heavy iron supplement because clearly if the girl has a blood craving she needs more iron in her system. Don’t you heathens know anything about the meaning behind cravings. Spinner gets into a fight in Ardyn’s territory, Ardyn patches him up and gently informs him that if he’s going to pick fights, at least fight dirty enough to win them. Twice comes there often for a meal and company that won’t look at him funny for talking to himself, Mr. Compress is bound and determined to get Ardyn to be surprised by one of his magic tricks (never works, because unlike Compress Ardyn can do LITERAL MAGIC). Magne is not a regular, but still shows up once in a blue moon because Ardyn’s illegal clinic is probably better stocked than most legal ones at this point (people tend to trade his treatment for actual medicine and equipment, Ardyn never asks where they get it).

-Dabi is the last to be picked up. He is also how Ardyn’s increasing collection of strays first learn about Ardyn’s superhealing factor when he TAKES Dabi’s fresh, weeping burns onto himself and they heal over in minutes, leaving both of them unscarred (or mostly so, Ardyn’s skin will always have faint ripple marks where the burns were). It is also around this time that, coincidentally, people start gunning for Endeavor and trying to make his life miserable. Because Adagium hates him and is plotting to end him, so clearly that’s their cue, right?

-The rest of Endeavor’s kids vanish in the middle of the night. No one in the police or pro heroes can find them.

-Far away in a little, unnoticed restaurant bar, Dabi holds his siblings tight and promises they are never going to have to suffer That Man again. Ardyn rests gentle hands on Shōto’s face and whispers that everything will be okay even as his skin bubbles and boils into an ugly burn before healing over with the faintest scars.

-Moving on from Ardyn’s growing collection of strays (that will keep growing so keep an eye on that):

-Ardyn doesn’t get the whole quirk thing. Or the whole superhero society thing. If something needs doing and it suits him then he shall do it, none of this Symbol of Peace nonsense.

-Yes, he said nonsense. The Symbol of Peace is nonsense and only setting society up to fall apart when this All Might fellow either gets too powerful and is made to take a fall or when he finally picks a fight he can’t win.

-Ardyn says as much to Toshinori Yagi, the nice civilian man who wandered into Ardyn’s bar without knowing who is running it. The man sputters a bit and asks why he thinks so, Ardyn just laughs and laughs and laughs until there is something unnerving about the sound and Ardyn has to stop and catch his breath. Blue eyes flicker gold as Ardyn murmurs that he’s seen it happen before.

-Somehow, Toshinori thinks this strange, eccentric barkeep doesn’t mean as a bystander.

-Ardyn meets Aizawa while Aizawa is on the hunt for Adagium, they eyeball each other like wary cats before Ardyn decides that this angry hobo hero is His Now and invites the man over for food. Aizawa declines. Ardyn casually slings Aizawa over his shoulder and carts him in anyway before Aizawa can think to retaliate.

-Ardyn is highly amused to learn that Hobo Man is after the Adagium. Good luck with that, truly, best of fortune.

-So, for those of you paying attention, Ardyn’s count of Heroes He Has Adopted is officially up to 2, even if he pretends not to notice the first one (pretends. Because he knows exactly who Toshi is, come ON it’s not that hard, they have the same voice and smile and everything).

-Ardyn’s kids grow up with his scathing political commentary and one foot in both legal and illegal worlds. Some of them (Tenko, Dabi, Toga, Spinner) decide that they’re gonna make a League to show the world how dumb its being. A League of Villains! (”League of Vigilante’s sounds more appropriate for your chosen activities, Tenko Mine-” “VILLAINS. WE ARE VILLAINS NOW.” “Alright then, will all villains in the room please wash up for supper?”)

-Ardyn finds Hitoshi and decides he’s not quite qualified for this one.

-Aizawa wakes up from another rare session of being black-out to find Ardyn cheerfully tearing up his apartment to make it more “child suitable”. Child WHAT. Child suitable. For your child.

-MY WHAT.

-Ardyn calmly holds out the adoption papers that have Aizawa’s signature on all of them, perfectly legible because the man is a little too good at pretending he isn’t stone drunk, and then gestures to the sad-eyed, skeptical boy with purple hair in the corner. Ardyn smiles (reads: threatens with killing intent) and says that he’s sure Aizawa will take his new responsibilities seriously (read: you’d better or you’re next on my hitlist).

-Aizawa, never one to go back on his word, has a kid now I guess.

-Shōto comes home one day with a bby Izuku in tow and Ardyn is charmed beyond all words over the boy. He’s so Smol! And Smart! Lookit his little brain firing away! Upon hearing the boy is developing All The Esteem Issues because of his bullying and quirklessness, Ardyn stares off into space for a long time, acknowledges that he’s a sap, and then soothingly tells Izuku that some quirks just come in late, why, Ardyn’s came in late too! Just give it a few days. Then he pats Izuku on the head and uses the motion to disguise the teeny tiny fragment of magic he splits off from his own and gives to this boy who deserves better.

-Izuku comes back two days later, crying for joy and with sparkling green magic dripping from his fingertips. Ardyn exclaims in “surprise” over the similarity of their quirks and offers to teach him. Izuku accepts and after some sweet-talking to Inko, Ardyn gets to mold this tiny genius boi as he pleases to both be proud of himself and his “quirk” AND to fight quirkless as much as possible because “tactics, my boy, take them by surprise!”

-Also then he figures out that he didn’t just lend Izuku magic because this world is funky like that, he genuinely gave it away which counts as LC adoption rituals so OOPS GUESS WHO HAS A BLOOD SON NOW.

-Oh well.

-Toshi and Izuku get along like a house on fire whenever Toshi comes over for a hot meal and Ardyn is pretty content with his brood and his handiwork against Endeavor (who by this point has been exposed as an abuser and put in jail for a long time HAH). Toshi ... pointedly doesn’t ask why several of his kids look like Endeavor. Nope. Not asking. They get their red hair from Ardyn, clearly.

-Of course, all of this casual wrecking of canon attracts the attention of AfO, who is not happy about the competition. He shows up at one point, all suave and intimidating because he is immortal and older than anyone alive and smarter too and-

-Ardyn laughs in his face.

-Baby.

-Bby playing at immortal.

-You think two centuries or so makes you hot stuff? You think stolen quirks makes you special? You think you can come into Ardyn’s territory and threaten his kids and get away with it because you’re ... a little older than the average human being? Ardyn leans close and smiles as AfO tries and fails to steal a quirk that doesn’t exist to be stolen, his Scourge face leaking into existence as he purrs that AfO should’ve minded his own business a little more than he minded others.

-AfO came prepared for a quirk. He did not come prepared for the combined might of 2k year old LC magic and abilities of a Scourge the world has never, and will never, see.

-It’s not even a fight.

-Adagium makes the news again when a body is found hanging from a high tower, torn apart as if by dozens upon dozens of blades, the corpse pinned in place by a spear that dissolves into red sparks upon the police touching it, leaving behind only a note that gets leaked to the media and goes viral.

-Dear World, refrain from touching my stuff, and you won’t end up like this man. Sincerely, Adagium.

-Not the most menacing letter until you considering the delivery method.

-Toshinori has to sit there and have a Moment upon the news that the man who murdered Nana is already dead by someone else’s hand and they have no idea when the fight went down. Because surely there was a fight, right? AfO had been centuries old and with dozens upon dozens of quirks. Who could possibly have brought him down when Nana, the then-wielder of OfA could not???

-Ardyn gently pats Toshi’s shoulder through the breakdown. There there. I’m sure you’ll figure out the culprit eventually, you’re a smart man Toshi. There there.

-Also Kurogiri shows up not long after that entire debacle looking for a new job because his old one got murdered and Adagium seems like an efficient dude. Ardyn is always happy for more hands on deck in wrangling the kids, and this one has warping powers. Welcome aboard Kurogiri.

#Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #ffxv #bnha #xover #I'll call this au #Gentleman Ardyn verse #no idea why

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: the kind that was burned first [chapter 3 & 4] Summary: The one where Anakin and Obi-Wan traveled back in time and don’t inform anybody of it.

Read on AO3

#3 Qui-Gon Jinn

Qui-Gon would always be proud of Obi-Wan. He had been a fool when his Padawan was young, having been unable to see his potential. Obi-Wan had grown into a formidable Knight and Master, little Ahsoka certainly was a credit to his skills. She was strong and wise, even compared to the other war-time Padawans as they had shamefully begun calling the youths who hadn’t seen anything but the battlefield.

The fact that Obi-Wan had accepted a seat on the Council would always be an issue between them, but lately Qui-Gon felt like it didn’t matter as much as it once used to. Obi-Wan had always been strict about following the code, likely something that stuck with him from his last year as an Initiate, but in the past months he hadn’t just been lax about it, he was outright breaking it. Everybody was busy trying to find their place in the order and peacetimes again, so Obi-Wan’s behavior got sort of ignored, or tolerated. Either way, his Padawan didn’t seem to care too much.

“Good morning, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon greeted his former Padawan.

Obi-Wan had taken to spending a lot of time in the Room of a Thousand Fountains with young Anakin and his children. Little Luke and Leia were a delight to be around. They had recently learned how to crawl and were causing the appropriate amount of trouble. Neither their father nor Obi-Wan were particularly interested in putting them in the crèche with the other children, so mostly they were watching them by themselves. Ahsoka helped out as well, dragging her friends with her into babysitting. It was fun to see the Padawans fumble with the children when neither were even particularly fussy babies. Truth be told, Qui-Gon had never seen them throw a tantrum or cry for long. They always appeared to be very happy and content.

“Good morning, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

He smiled at Qui-Gon and motioned for him to sit down on the grass next to him. Qui-Gon obliged and allowed himself to enjoy his Padawan’s presence as it had been a while since there were enough hours to spare for some actual peace and quiet. Obi-Wan didn’t say a word, he just continued observing the twins and their father.

Anakin was lying on the grass as well, barefoot and shirtless, while the twins were crawling all over him. His chest was slowly rising and sinking again, he was sound asleep. Like everyone else, Qui-Gon had been and still was curious about Anakin’s origins. As a Jedi, Qui-Gon was no stranger to scars and Anakin had a lot of them. Most of them were quite old and spoke of life-threatening injuries like you wouldn’t normally find on Core Worlds.

After a couple minutes of silence, Obi-Wan suddenly got up and walked over to the three. In the same moment, the twins began crying, heartbroken and so fearful, their emotions resonated in the Force. That however couldn’t even begin to compare with the onslaught of fear, anger, worry, devastation and pain that assaulted Qui-Gon’s senses after. It threw him off balance so harshly that it took him a moment to recognize it was coming from Anakin. The man wasn’t moving at all, not a single muscle twitched. The children continued on crying as Obi-Wan sat down next to them. He put his hands on Anakin’s temples and lowered his head so that their foreheads were touching.

He was whispering to Anakin, but Qui-Gon couldn’t make out the words he was saying. He thought he caught memory flashes of flesh burning, betrayal, and regret, but they passed so soon, he couldn’t really make out a proper image.

Slowly, very slowly, the oppressive aura lifted. It got easier to breathe again and Qui-Gon could stretch out his senses. They were very deep in the room, hidden away in a small corner hardly anyone ever came to. Perhaps they had chosen this spot not to hide away but to spare others this experience. Qui-Gon wondered how regularly these fits happened that they were so prepared for it. He was just glad nobody else was around. A Padawan experiencing this torture would certainly get caught up in a flashback of the war. No wonder the children had begun to cry. Something horrible must have happened to Anakin, but Qui-Gon didn’t think it was his place to ask.

Anakin opened his eyes, tears still running over his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh,” Obi-Wan replied. “I’m sorry, dear one. Never again, I promise. I’ll never leave your side again.”

“I-“ Anakin’s eyes darted to the crying twins, then widened in horror. “They can’t be here. You have to take them, hide them somewhere safe!”

“Anakin-“ Obi-Wan began to say, but the other man wasn’t listening, too caught up in whatever dream he had awoken from. He got to his feet and stepped back from the group.

“My own daughter,” Anakin said and took another step back. “And I cut off his hand-“

“It hasn’t happened here,” Obi-Wan sternly cut him off.

Anakin wasn’t deterred. He was caught up in his panic like a cornered lothcat, ready to lash out if he couldn’t disappear.

“No, but I remember it anyway. Just- I can’t do this today.”

And with those words, Anakin turned around and stormed out of the area. Obi-Wan sighed and picked up the twins instead, humming soothingly. They buried their heads in Obi-Wan’s tunic and their crying subdued into silent sobs. The whole exchange couldn’t have taken longer than a minute, but to Qui-Gon it felt like decades had passed, draining his Padawan entirely. The war had exhausted all of them but only rarely had Qui-Gon seen Obi-Wan show openly that he was weary to the bone.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized unnecessarily to him. “Today hasn’t been one of the better days.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied. “Your companion is haunted by many ghosts.”

Obi-Wan glanced into the direction Anakin had disappeared to. If not for the children in his arms, Obi-Wan would probably chase after him. Whatever was going on behind the scenes, the two of them needed to talk about it soon. If this episode really wasn’t even one of the worse ones, Anakin needed serious help, more than a Knight could provide. He needed a mind healer. Qui-Gon wasn’t going to voice his concerns though. It wasn’t his place. He could, however, support his Padawan in different ways.

“Do you think Luke and Leia would enjoy a trip to the planetarium?” Qui-Gon mused. “I’ve been meaning to stop by there again as I haven’t been in a while. I can take the two off your hands for a few hours.”

“Master, there’s no need. I can take care of them on my own.”

As if to prove his point, Luke and Leia stopped sobbing entirely and instead began cooing and babbling.

“I am not questioning your abilities. I am merely stating that I have time and wouldn’t mind spending some time with-“ Qui-Gon halted to find an adequate term, but after concluding he couldn’t find a better synonym, settled on the truth, “-your children. It is no bother.”

Obi-Wan looked conflicted and Qui-Gon was reminded of all the times he used to play around with his Padawan braid when he was nervous. He hadn’t thought of it in years, but the memories weren’t unwelcome.

“In fact, I believe I will enjoy it,” he added. “The two are very strong in the Living Force, you must have noticed.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened and he even smiled in amusement.

“What do you say?” He asked the twins. “Do you want to spend the morning with your grandmaster instead?”

Of course, the twins couldn’t reply, but they also didn’t protest when Obi-Wan handed them over to Qui-Gon. They were confused, but then quickly entertained themselves by attempting to reach for his hair. Qui-Gon should probably braid the loose strands so avoid getting his hair pulled.

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

“Go help your friend, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon just replied. “He needs you.”

And going by the speed Obi-Wan rushed after Anakin, he needed him just as much. Qui-Gon waited another few minutes, then set out to take the twins to the planetarium; and if he made a few stops across the whole temple until it was lunch time and Obi-Wan and Anakin came to collect Luke and Leia, then that was his business.

#4 Padmé Amidala

Padmé was once more regretting that was she was the overachiever of her family. None of them did well with idle work. Her father had worked with refugees of which some had detonators in their bodies, her mother had been the mayor of their home village, Sola had her eyes set on reforming the educational system of Naboo and Darred was a prominent lawyer. Nobody in her family had set their goals low, but Padmé had to go out of her way to become first Queen and then Senator and now she was overworking herself trying to get a grip on all of Palpatine’s machinations.

His manipulations had run so deep, there were nights where she and her handmaidens, sisters in all but blood, stayed up until the early morning hours, letting off steam and trying to figure out how to fix it. There were days when Padmé thought they might not be able to fix it, that the Republic would be better off if they cut it completely and built it up anew from the ground up. Padmé knew she couldn’t dwell on those thoughts, they weren’t productive, but she found herself tapping into that body of thought more often than she was comfortable.

One thing that never did fail to comfort her was the steady presence of the Jedi. They had been shook to the core just as much as every other institution, but they appeared to adapt to this changed atmosphere much more quickly than the Senate. The Jedi were fewer people, governed themselves differently, but after the past nine long months, they had returned to some sense of normalcy. The clones, those that had decided to stay at least, were making their way through the temple as if they had never belonged anywhere else.

Two of them welcomed her kindly at the Temple’s entrance. She was a known figure to the as she had fought visibly and openly for their rights for years. The two guards wore blue tabards over their tunics and armors, they must have been part of Master Jinn’s 501st then. Out of all the battalions, she might know them best. Master Jinn’s creative problem-solving style had often made him her companion during her missions.

“Senator Amidala,” one clone greeted her. “Meeting with the Council again?”

“Yes,” Padmé replied. “Would you be so kind as to inform the Council?”

The clone saluted and allowed her to step into the Temple. She was one of the few Senators who actually bothered to work more closely with the Jedi. Their standing hadn’t been great in the first place, but now people were asking how the Jedi hadn’t known about the Sith Lord when it was their job to protect the Republic. People wanted answers and they were calling for blood that shouldn’t be shed. Padmé had been the target of such accusations as well. It wasn’t fun.

She made her way up to the tower where the Council resided. She’d been working with them intimately to finally finalize the clone’s citizenship as well as sort out how the Jedi would react to future demands of the Senate. The Order had suffered greatly, their losses not exactly visible for people who didn’t know them well, but she’d been here when she was but a little girl playing Queen herself. Their rooms used to be fuller, the amount of Jedi with visible injuries less.

Padmé stepped onto the floor the Council room was on. The hallways were empty with the exception of a young man walking up and down with two babbling toddlers. Their steps were not entirely steady yet, they must have just begun learning how to walk. It was enlightening and disheartening at the same time to see such young children in the Jedi’s care. From the whole Cad Bane fiasco she’d learned that the Jedi didn’t usually take anyone younger than the age of two unless there were troubling circumstances surrounding their home life.

“Dadadada,” one of the children babbled.

The man leading them, a Knight going by his lack of braid, laughed. “Yes, I’m here, Leia. And we are waiting for Obi-Wan to be done. Can you say Obi-Wan?”

“Bah!” The other toddler squealed excitedly. “Bah! Bah! Bah!”

“Oh-Bi-Wah-N. Where are you getting that ‘Bah’ from, Luke? Repeat after me, Obi-Wan. C’mon, show your sister how it’s done.”

The Knight emphasized every syllable, but the child just happily continued on rambling as he had before. The Knight just sighed and slowly maneuvered the children around again so they were walking into her direction.

Padmé couldn’t help herself, she laughed.

The Knight probably hadn’t noticed her before as his head whipped up quickly.

“I apologize,” Padmé said. “But those two are quite adorable.”

“Yes, they are.”

The Knight’s reply was short, standoffish. Nothing unusual for a Jedi, but his demeanor was world’s away from the open kindness he had shown the children. Padmé attempted not to take it personally.

“I’m-“

“Senator Amidala, I know.” He wasn’t looking at her, not really, and instead turned to glance at the Council chamber doors. “Are you here for a meeting?”

“Yes,” Padmé replied. “I overheard you speaking, are you here to talk to Master Kenobi as well, Master…?”

The Knight swallowed. “Skywalker. My name is Anakin Skywalker.”

Right. He didn’t seem all that interested in conversation, so Padmé decided to just take a seat at the nearest chair and wait for the Council to call her inside. She knew their sessions could take longer sometimes and had brought her datapads to keep busy. These days she didn’t have a single minute to spare.

Knight Skywalker had returned to his task of walking up and down with the children, though by now he appeared to be much more nervous than before. It made it hard to work or concentrate.

One of the children, the dark-haired one he had called Leia, was tugging at his hand and reaching for her.

“Leia, darling, no-“

Little Leia apparently didn’t appreciate being told ‘no’. It reminded Padmé charmingly of her own nieces.

“It’s alright,” she told Skywalker. “I don’t mind it.”

But he, rather obviously, did mind it. In the end, Leia won though and slowly made her way over to Padmé.

“She’s a curious one,” Padmé said, making faces for the little girl, causing her to giggle.

“She really is. Luke is more careful, but I think that’s just because he focuses more on other’s emotions. Leia has better control of her own, doesn’t get spooked as easily too-“ Skywalker cut himself off. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t need to hear this.”

And yet Padmé felt like she ought to. “It’s nice to hear something different than just politics all day,” she said. “Tell me more?”

Skywalker still didn’t look at her properly, but he did begin talking about the twins and their many adventures. They were the youngest in the Temple currently and growing faster than he or Master Kenobi could keep up with apparently. It took a while for Padmé to question that.

“You are their father, right? Forgive me if I am rude, but I thought Jedi didn’t have families,” she finally said.

“They don’t,” Skywalker replied. “But they are my children and I’ll always be their father.”

“Then Luke and Leia are very lucky children,” Padmé said. “They are very happy.”

Now Skywalker did look at her and it felt a little like he was trying to read her mind. Jedi couldn’t, that she knew, but it still felt like he was staring right through her.

“Are you happy?” He asked her.

Padmé carefully schooled her face into a neutral expression. It was a difficult question. Of course, she wasn’t happy that she had helped a Sith Lord come into office. Everyone was suspicious of her, Padmé would be lucky if she was still in the Senate by the end of the year. Now that it was clear that Palpatine had played both sides, not even Padmé’s many speeches against him amassing power could protect her against the silent accusations. The Senate was working much to slow, she didn’t have any time for herself or her family.

So, no. Padmé wasn’t really happy, but what choice did she have?

“I am glad the internal investigations are finally picking up,” Padmé answered diplomatically.

Skywalker shook his head. “No, I meant are you, personally, happy.”

She didn’t see how that was any of his business, but there was a desperation to his question that she felt compelled to answer.

“I am,” she said. “The war is over, the fighting can stop and I can-“

Figure out who I am when I’m not representing millions of sentients, but just myself.

The doors to the Council opened and Master Kenobi greeted them. He looked at her, then at Skywalker and back again at her, now frowning.

“Anakin, is everything alright?”

Skywalker rose from his seat next to her. “Yes, I needed this. You were right, I put this off too long.”

Kenobi observed him a little longer, then sighed. “Alright, if you say so. Was there a reason you were waiting for me?”

“Yes!” Skywalker smiled now. It made him look a lot younger. “Watch this.”

He helped Luke and Leia to their feet and took a small step, the twins following after. Kenobi’s eyes widened and he moved closer to Skywalker, taking Luke’s hand in his instead.

“They’re walking!”

Skywalker was positively glowing. “Yes, Senator Amidala was the first to see it beside me.”

Oh, she hadn’t known that. “The first time, really?”

“Yes,” Skywalker said as Kenobi walked around the hallway with the two, utterly besotted. “Ahsoka’s going to be jealous, she’s wanted to be here for it.”

“Did you record it?” Kenobi asked.

Skywalker rolled his eyes. “Who do you take me for? I don’t want to miss out on anything.”

He sounded so determined saying it, like he’d do everything to ensure it. Padmé couldn’t recall the last time she had heard such a passionate declaration in the past weeks. If Knight Skywalker could be so certain, then perhaps she should be as well.

“I hate to take you away from this, Master Kenobi, but I believe we have a meeting?” Padmé said.

Kenobi gave the children back to Skywalker, looking a little sad. “We do, if you would, Senator?”

Padmé entered the Council chambers, newfound strength running through her veins. She had survived being the target of more people than she could count, she would see the Republic through this crisis and she’d force them to listen to her.

#star wars #obikin #Anakin Skywalker #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #fanfic #padmé amidala #luke skywalker #leia organa

[tracle0]

hello hey hi and a splendid saturday to you, I come bearing a question for the wip4 gang and that question is: what is each of their most significant memories? additionally, are there any memories they would jump at the chance to get rid of? ok bye please have an excellent day \o/ (and before you yell at me I'm going to sleep now I swear)

I’m glad that when you even LOOK at me you think ‘oh sleep time’ I am Pavlov and you are my dog and this metaphor is stupid I will answer your question now

I’m gonna... assume this is uhh pre-story question because I know for a fact that at least three characters would change their answer to at least one question if it was post-story. My house, my rules. 

Keaton’s most significant memory is p r o b a b l y the time when he was in year 12 (17), and he was called to the head of sixth form office. He’d been at this school since year 7 (11), and had realised he was trans in year 8 (12/13), and had then been fighting for the right to use his bathroom ever since. This had previously resulted in punishment. In year 10 (15), he made progress, being allowed to use the disabled bathroom, but he wanted the men's bathroom dammit. 

Anyway, called to head of sixth form, assumed it was related to that issue. Pessimistic about the whole ordeal. 

Turned out there was another student in like year 9 who had come out as trans as well, and the school had gone ‘UHHHHHHHHH LET’S DO BETTER THIS TIME’ so Keaton, being the only other trans student in this rural Norfolk school, was assigned as her... mentor??? I guess? 

He was half like ‘fuck y’all’ and half like ‘I will not let this young woman go through the same shit you all put me through, I will guard her like a HAWK’. He was still not allowed to use his bathroom, but he makes her fight a little easier; she’s allowed to use her bathroom in year 10, after he left. They still meet up every now and then for coffee. 

Memory to be rid of: First day on a Professional Set, he walked backwards whilst taking a tea order and fell into a bin. Terrible first impression. He still got jobs afterwards, but sometimes people will be like ‘oh yeah I’ve heard of you you’re the bin guy’ and he wants to punch them. 

This is getting long already I’m gonna put the rest under a cut

I know you’re here for Mika so I’ll go to them, most significant memory: probably his first pride? He didn’t intend to go to pride, but he was in the city on the day of pride and just walked past all these rainbows and flags and people being so open and proud and themselves. He was maybe fifteen, and had been having those fun Gender Feels that you try and hide at age fifteen, because you’re only fifteen and most people tell you you’re not old enough to know anything about yourself, yknow? 

Someone gave him a flyer at one point, and when he got back to his Ultra Christian Household, he hid it and would read through it some nights. When he had it memorised, he started to explore more about queerness online. He’s the guy who can tell you all about LGBT history due to this research. This was only done in the city on the library computers, where his trail couldn’t be tracked. It gave him some sort of start for labels, some sort of safe space, some sort of New Approach to everything he’d been feeling. 

Memory to be rid of: last day in Ultra Christian School. He was raised Catholic and went to Catholic school and it wasn’t awful until he was about fourteen, at which point he started to grow his hair. They told him to cut it constantly. He was punished for it. He kept the hair. 

It got bad but it wasn’t until he was about seventeen that it really buckled; first real notable psychotic episode. He told people, they were convinced it was some sort of possession, convinced he’d sinned, convinced of all these horrible things about him and drove him out until he could ‘act normally’ again. He did not go back. 

In all honesty, the second he turned 18, he took his savings from various dead grandparents and a part-time job, bought a second-hand (maybe third-hand) camper-van and left home. 

He goes back for Christmas only. 

Mooooving on, Lynne! Who I do not talk about enough; she’s also part of the documentary squad, and actually the reason the whole squad exists. Producer and director, she’s very cool okcoolthanks

Most significant memory: That one time she was thirteen and her parents had officially declared their divorce. She was living with her dad and it was really, really weird and she was not enjoying it. Divorce is a big deal to some families, and this family was one of them, and she was really unsure about her entire future. 

Cue Mika, young and mostly obedient, kicking down the door (not literally) and kidnapping her (again, not literally) to come pick blackberries with him (very literally). They stayed out until the sun went down in early Autumn. She forgot about the divorce for a small amount of time. They ended the day eating fish and chips straight from the paper whilst sitting in a tree and talking about nothing important at all. 

They made jam out of the blackberries the next day. It was gross. Both of them refused to admit it was gross. 

Memory to be rid of: She went camping one time with friends from school. Lynne is Muslim and so did not go to Catholic school with Mika, they just lived near each other, and so school friends went ‘hey we’re going camping you should come’ she did come. 

It was a mess. They were fifteen and determined to drink, and English peer pressure to drink is weird, so she did take some drink but didn’t drink it. Someone threw up on her tent and blamed it on her. No-one bought any food or water, the only thing she was able to drink was lemonade bought for mixing and that had ants in it within two hours. 

She woke up first and left them all there, then walked home because she was meant to be lift-sharing. It took an hour and a half. She preferred that to being in the car. 

That group wasn’t her only group of friends, but it was her main group, so things were awkward for a while. 

Moving on from Documentary Squad, Percival! Percy Percival who I wish I could call Percy because it’s so much easier to write. 

Significant memory: winning an art contest when he was like. Eleven. Really living the high-life, ol’ Percival. It was a city-wide contest, with various age categories. He was part of the 11-18 clump, which put him at a disadvantage, but he still won. As a reward, his art was replicated on a mural in one of the shopping malls in town, and he got some fancy vouchers for a fancy art shop in the city. 

Winning the art contest made him go ‘oh wait I’m actually good at this thing I really like doing I should learn how to do that more’ and you could barely pry him away from his sketchbook from that point on. 

Those vouchers were stored away until he was 14 and doing art GCSE, at which point he bought a nice sketchbook and oil paints. He’s now very good at oil painting. I hate him for being good at oil painting. Oil painting SUCKS. 

Memory to be rid of: I’m torn between three and they’re all similar so I’ll go for all of them. 

#1 - losing an eye to Abby’s experiments. You read the lil short story I think (I know I checked just now) - she’s a very kind and loving sister who sometimes moves his body parts around. One time, he lost an eye and went blind for a few weeks. He had nightmares about it for months. It was very painful.

#2 - losing a finger. To Abby’s experiments. It was the middle finger on his left hand and it didn’t go back into place quickly enough - now it’s always numb and discoloured. Good news is he’s right-handed and not a musician so no worries about losing dexterity on that hand. 

#3 - losing two ribs. To Abby’s experiments.  There’s a very clear trend here. She wanted to try moving things she couldn’t see around. She moved two ribs away. She decided it was more dangerous to put them back. Now they just have two of Percival’s ribs lying around. 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

On that note, final person, this is very long. Abby! She’s fun. Most significant memory;

okay the word ‘significant’ has caught me off-guard several times cause like wow how do you figure out significant memories for people. I don’t have just one, yknow? But I think I know one for her. 

She’s the eldest out of her and Percival and, for a while, people wanted her to set an example for him, which she tried to do, but she wasn’t good at what people wanted her to be good at. She’s good with people. She’s good at very specific parts of biology. She’s good at psychology. She’s not good at school and tests. 

So, when Percival started to beat the standards she set for him, her parents almost... egged competition on. Played favourites, compared the two siblings. Nobody really noticed what she could do, they only cared about what she struggled with. And the parents were rarely around to help out with what she was struggled with. So she struggled on and tried to keep her head high.

Cue a family wedding, she was snooping around the snack table at the reception and overheard her parents talking about her. And how they were almost disappointed in her. How they were annoyed that she couldn’t be more like Percival, honestly, what did they do wrong? 

She got bitter. She pretends she doesn’t care but she’s bitter, and with no parents around to lash out at, she lashes out at Percival, who isn’t even aware. Good times. Not good times. Significant times. 

Memory to be rid of: Honestly? Probably hearing her parents talking about her at the family wedding. It stings. 

A n y w a y this was extremely long I like going into detail with short stories, if you read this far then thank you I appreciate it I will give you a feather from my feather collection. Probably a swan feather. I have a lot of swan feathers. 

#wip4 #keaton #mika #lynne #percival #abby #all five of them wowza #'hey trade are you doing sts should you answer the other questions in your inbox' #I should but I won't I'm going to sleep soon but thank you for asking #this was fun! thank you logan this was helpful and fun and now I know more stuff about the characters

[fuwafuwamedb]

The King’s Dumu Lugal Pt 10 (CasGil, Hakuno, Siduri, CasCu)

Previously: One, Two, Three, Four, Five , Six, Seven, Eight, Nine

____

Ur liked watching him work.

Each time the sharpened scalpel like writing instrument chiseled away another bit of Cuneiform, Gilgamesh found that his son would reach out. Perhaps he wanted to write his own letters to the people. Maybe he simply wanted to stick the writing instrument into his mouth and chew on it. Whatever the case was, Gilgamesh found himself signing the documents for two.

King Gilgamesh and First Prince Ur-Nungal.

The first time the words had been inscribed upon one of the tablets, he had needed to take a moment. He needed to admire the look of it.

First prince.

It offered so many meanings. Perhaps there would be a first princess, a second prince, a whole collection of children. If there were children, then that meant that there was a blushing and prideful bride, one of whom he had bore so many children with.

There would be a great deal of celebrating going on in Uruk as these tablets were read aloud.

The great king had a son. The first prince was alive and he was with his father, writing to them of all the universe.

Siduri would weep.

His mother would be beside herself in need of seeing her grandson.

“Abum!”

“Is there something wrong?” Gilgamesh glanced down once more, finding his son pouting.

“Ah~! Ah!”

“This has a sharp end. Your mother would have my head if she saw me allow you to use this.” The woman gave him cloth made toys mostly. He had no doubt in his mind that even a slightly blunt object would be met with outrage from his precious wife.

Wife… That word gave him pause.

Hakuno had never agreed to be his wife, not fully. There were no vows, no confession and pledges of eternal loyalty. Their son was their bond, but she still shied away from him. The fact that there were so few things tying his woman to his side left a great deal to be concerned with. Perhaps that had been what had bothered her this morning.

He and his son moved to the living room area as Ur needed to have himself changed and cleaned up. His son settled amongst his toys and blankets, happily beginning to wave the toys around as Gilgamesh sent off his tablets into the Gates of Babylon and off to Uruk. A collection of new tablets came in their place, leaving him to begin reading.

There was no such thing as a domestic life for Hakuno. She had no simple time where she could lounge with their son properly and lose track of time. Each second that she was here, she was on a clock with the Chaldeans. She would be running errands or bringing him food or tending to those who had been injured. There was always something around the corner that the woman needed to worry about and the fact that she had to spend so much time fretting about the next task that she had coming left there little time for his son to get proper attention.

“Abum!”

His tablets were abandoned, his attention returning to the boy entirely. His mouth pressed to his son’s belly, blowing raspberries- or rather, loud lip wagging noises into his son’s belly- resulting in an eruption of giggles and squeals.

The priceless first prince, Ur-Nungal was going to be spoiled to the very tips of his toes when he was able to go to Uruk. If not by the people, then by Siduri alone.

He could hardly forget when Siduri’s husband had passed, leaving her all alone in the world. She had wanted kids, opting for hounding him to give her princes and princesses to spoil instead.

“Oh oh.”

Gil glanced down, noting his son’s pause.

Following that attention, he laughed.

The toy that had been nearby had ripped. It seemed his son’s strength was far greater than the typical child’s. Not only had the toy ripped, cotton had come flying out, decorating the floor.

“…It would seem that you killed it.”

Ur’s face scrunched. He could see those eyes turn to him, the wobbling lower lip and the scrunched eyes giving warning just before he found his son’s piercing wail echoing in the living room.

“Shhhhh,” Gilgamesh lifted the boy, attempting to hand him any other toy in the room. There had to be another to his liking. The sheer number alone made it evident that there were other favorites. He tried the ones that were clearly made by Hakuno. He tried some of the ones from his youth. He tried the blanket. He tried the strange stopper for his son’s mouth. Any and everything he had available was attempted.

The wails continued.

While he could repair a small seam, he could not fix this toy.

Did they have someone here at Chaldea that could fix this thing? Perhaps that vampire fellow, but didn’t he drink blood or some such nonsense? That wouldn’t do. He needed to watch Ur but the toy…

Siduri could fix it.

If he sent the toy through the gates, it would come back tomorrow with new tablets, but… that would not help with the interim. His son was still wailing his lungs out and his voice would soon grow hoarse. Perhaps…

Well, perhaps a small visit.

He could go to the rayshift, shift over with his son and the toy, present the toy for repairs, and then come back. Hakuno was clearly occupied with her own work-

Hakuno had made the toy.

It would stand to reason that-

Ur was still wailing.

While Hakuno could fix it, he could use the opportunity in Uruk as a chance to get a crib for their son and to check in on Uruk. His son was meant to be in Uruk anyway. An hour in Uruk would not hurt anything. If anything, his son would appreciate being home.

He changed Ur into robes more fitting for this trip, wiping at tears and attempting here and there to get his son to cease his tears.

They hurried to the command room, grabbing that foolish Caster, Cu Chulainn, on their way.

The man was only too happy to remove the loudest, most abhorring sound in all of Chaldea from the premises. He promised to remain until called upon to bring them back as well.

Uruk formed around him and his son a moment later.

He stood just at the foot of the stairs to his palace, looking up at the glory that was his kingdom. Frozen in the midst of a singularity and moment in time, the kingdom was no longer fully functioning in the span of time, but the people and the problems and benefits of this world were still going. Like gears still turning in a clock with no hands, Uruk worked evermore.

The wailing of his son was garnering the attention of those around him. Giving a proud smile, Gilgamesh held up his son.

“My son has a broken toy.”

The response was immediate. The cheers and the excitement of those around the palace plaza had others escaping their homes and leaving their vending. All were coming forth to see the crying child, cooing and cheering the young boy so much that the tears were paused.

This was new, after all.

A child who had seen no more than two, perhaps three adults at one time was now seeing a mob. The boy’s red eyes blinked up at them all, his hands being lightly touched only for him to burst into a smile. He had his mother’s smile.

“King Gilgamesh!”

Gilgamesh glanced back, seeing the rush of green fabrics coming down the stairs. The veil and the hood were falling from her person, fluttering away in the wind as her brown hair came loose. She didn’t pay it a single mind. He could see it already, the desperation, the need to see her closest acquaintance’s son. Siduri didn’t pause a bit as she pushed her way around the people and came to his side.

Her hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes growing to the size of moons.

“M-m-my k-k-k-king!”

“Would you like to hold him?”

Siduri fell to her knees. The sight of tears brimming those eyes was worth a thousand wails from his son. He couldn’t help the chuckle that came, moving to his own knees as well so he could safely place his son in his attendant’s arms.

Her dark eyes met Ur’s gentle gaze, the tears were falling heavily.

“…My king…. My king, he’s the most beautiful baby boy that I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Ur reached up, his hand pressing to her cheek. He was wiping at her tears, Gil found, that patient gaze bringing forth only more rivers down his poor attendant’s cheeks.

“Continue about your day,” Gilgamesh bid his people. “My queen will come soon enough. She is away still, but I felt I needed to bring my son out. He should know his people.”

A few more pats came to his back, but the people were smiling as well to Siduri.

“You are beautiful,” Siduri murmured. “You are the most beautiful little man. You will end up making your father green with envy over you.”

“Don’t spoil him too much.”

The woman waved him off with a warning look, as though she were a rank higher than she was.

“Siduri, we did not come to be indulged today. We came because of this.” He held out the toy from his gates, showing it to the woman.

“What is it?”

“A toy. Apparently, my son’s only favorite amongst his collection.”

Ur was already looking at it, his eyes beginning to brim with tears again as he caught sight of the tear. When Siduri held it, his son emitted another sob, beginning to shake.

“I have some sewing supplies in my chambers,” Siduri told him. “I would be honored to repair it.”

“I also have need of a small cradle for my son. He’s too young to do much meandering, but my bed is feeling rather full with both him and my Hakuno.”

“Hakuno?”

“My queen.”

Siduri nodded, once more alight with excitement. “I cannot wait to see her, my king. She must be ill if she is not with you today.”

“Let’s not take long.”

Ur was returned, although he did note that Siduri seemed reluctant to let him go from her arms. Her gaze drifted over that face, a small and adoring smile fixed into place upon her lips.

Then they were hurrying. Up the stairs, pausing at the doors so that the guards could enjoy the sight that was his son, then into the palace. His son looked around in fascination, his hands reaching for everything. He squirmed and twisted, making sounds and saying abum more times than was needed.

“We’ll be in the audience chamber,” Gilgamesh told her simply.

He had to let Ur down.

His son caught sight of the lions and a squeal erupted from him. The moment that Gilgamesh had him on his feet, he was waddling, his arms grabbing the nearest beast and hugging it.

Another one of the lions nipped the back of his robes, pulling him onto their front paws and beginning to lick his hair.

“KISCHIES!”

Ah, but he did have kitties, didn’t he?

Gilgamesh found himself smirking, settling upon his throne and watching his son pet the various lions around him and be licked into a tussled state. His mother would no doubt have been panicking, worried over such beasts…

But then again the sphinxes were far larger. He had his doubts.

The servants came to see, as did his advisors. More of the guards who were switching rotations much faster today were rushing into the audience chamber. They would near the boy, but, with him around his lions, they could do no more than admire and coo to him. His son merely glanced their way, motioning and telling them ‘kischies’.

A boy so much like himself, they drawled, admiring him to their fullest.

It was a good thing that Hakuno cared and devoted so much time to their son, introducing him to the Chaldeans.

Sitting in his audience chamber and watching his son being admired like a new statue was a good reminder that there were few that would not be intimidated by his son’s stature. Many would hear prince and become fearful, deciding against playing with him or, even worse, opting to try to leave a bad impression of him in other’s minds. There were the dangers of manipulation of the boy’s developing mind. There were dangers of him becoming overly indulgent upon the servants.

Later on, once their time here was completed, he would have to inquire with Hakuno about her child-rearing strategy.

“My king!”

Siduri waved the toy in her hands, drawing the immediate attention of Ur.

“Ah!”

One of the lions was going for his arm as Ur climbed hurriedly to his feet. The boy was starting to waddle towards Siduri. He wouldn’t-

The boy turned, raising a hand and blasting the lion back with a burst of unfocused mana. The lion rolled back, hitting one of the potted plants before Ur was turning to Siduri and trying to rush over to her.

He stumbled, just short, being caught only by the fearful and awed attendant.

“Ah!” Ur grabbed his toy from the woman’s hand, letting himself lean against Siduri’s embrace. The boy’s mouth pressed to the cloth, echoing a series of kisses he’d seen Hakuno give her son.

His son did magecraft.

Effectively, he noted, seeing the lion slowly sit up and try to gather its bearings. The other lions were settling in, their eyes watching Ur more warily now.

He would not be stopped, they knew. What they had received had been an effective warning not to keep him tempered.

“King Gilgamesh,” Siduri looked over at him, her eyes still wide from what had transpired.

A small chuckle escaped him.

The small chuckle grew into a quiet laugh.

The quiet laugh grew louder, his head falling back a little as he flew to his feet.

“Siduri! My son is immaculate!”

The woman nodded, agreeing no doubt because the boy had proven himself at under a year to be more effective at magecraft than the apsu were upon entrance into their studies into the practices of healing. None of them would have been able to create such a blast against his lions. None, but his son could.

The child of a mage and a mage king.

Ur-Nungal would be a grand caster. He would be a grand mage, far surpassing Gudako herself when he was to his adulthood.

He scooped his son up, proud to see those red eyes turn to him and the title of abum come forth as his son proudly called him father once more. The sense of excitement and adrenaline, of the need to show his son to every single man, woman, and child in this kingdom ran thick through his veins. There would be time for such things. In time, he would have everything he wanted.

“The cradle is in the process of being built,” Siduri told him.

“Leave it in my chambers. I will retrieve it for my other chambers in due time.” He pulled the communication device from his pocket. “Ur and I must return before my woman worries.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“Is that a problem?”

Siduri laughed, the sound music to his ears. “My king, if she is like any mother, she will no doubt be livid that you did not give her the opportunity to let her see everyone admire her baby boy just as you were given the opportunity to do today. I’ll have some butter cake left in the cradle for her. I’m sure she must wish to indulge in some sweets.”

“Thank you, Siduri.”

“It is my job and my honor to do so.” Her smile was only brighter as she looked to his son. “…I knew you would have a beautiful baby, my king. I really hope you bring your Hakuno and him back quickly. I want to be able to help teach him words.”

He pat her head gently before connecting with Cu Caster.

The palace vanished, leaving his son and him standing once more in the rayshift.

“She’s right you know,” Cu spoke up form the control room. “Hakuno’s going to be pissed when she finds out you were toting that little guy into a singularity.”

“It is an old singularity and there were no threats.”

The celt snorted. “Right. So you weren’t panicking there when the lion was going after him?”

“Don’t tell Hakuno about that.”

“King, I didn’t even know Hakuno had a brat until you came yanking me from my afternoon of runes to sit around and watch your dumb ass go presenting your son like a trophy through your kingdom. Beats hearin’ him cry though.” The man leaned in, smiling away at Ur. “You’re damned cute though. Must get it from your mom-AH!”

Ur pinched his nose.

“That’s my boy,” Gil praised, watching the Celt shift back and rub at the spot.

“His fingers are like pinchers.”

“He’s quite a strong mage.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

That earned him a smack.

Ur giggled at the sight, his arms waving in the air a moment before he almost dropped the toy he had.

They returned to Hakuno’s chambers a few minutes before the woman came in herself. From head to foot, there was dirt, splotched and coating her hair and clothes. He held himself back from any kind of embrace, opting instead to hold Ur. 

“There was a problem with some piping downstairs. There was a lot of dirt from the mountainside that got in.” She shivered as she motioned towards the bathroom. ”I’m going to clean up and then we can start thinking about dinner. Was Ur good?”

“Ur was fine,” Gil replied, watching the woman slowly undressing. “We enjoyed the many tasks of being a king today.”

#drabble #drabbles