#ophie writes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ophiespeaks · 2 days

Text

Illiteracy in higher education.

i usually don’t post about my personal life on here but i had an interaction so confusing that i wanted to share it into void. if i talk to any of my friends about it it’s too personal and i feel like i’m making fun of this person specifically so internet anonymity is the better option.

So, I essentially work as a writing tutor at my university. People come in and have me look over their academic work and I point to sentences or paragraphs and tell them what I think needs improved or explain to them why a concept works and that sort of thing. I had someone come to me applying for grad school (Yippieee!!) and they asked about a specific type of paper/assignment that can be included in a grad school application that I’ve personally never worked with before. Instead of being like “sorry dog i’ve never applied to grad school” and calling it a day, I decided we would collaboratively look for sources with the information they needed. They watched me almost confused as I scrolled down the first few results and clicked on a website from something like the university of Illinois. they then asked me why i scrolled. almost absentmindedly, i kind of just gave a brief explanation while looking for an example paper, something like “oh, it’s an edu.” They were confused. So, i ramble-explained that .edu, .org, and .gov are all semi-reliable sources when compared to a .com. with further prompting i explained some of the nuances. for example, a .com is commercial, it can be owned by anyone who wants to or in some cases pays for the website to stay up/keep the url. meanwhile i explained edu is educational-sites only, like college homepages, .org is an official organization that has to have some level of verification and documentation that they’re a real company, and .gov is an offfical government site. this person then asked me what does the difference mean in terms of including them in things like essays and research. essentially, I just explained that while .coms are often correct based off of a lose honor system (people wouldn’t visit their site if they were wrong about stuff), they’re almost always secondhand information just conglomerated into one site. (think of wikipedia, for example.) Versus anything published on a .org is probably organization findings, or on a .edu it’s probably professor/instructor research and grad school datasets conducted at the university, a .gov is officially released government information which includes a wide variety of things. but, at its core, the three others are more likely to provide primary sources, finding the original study, data, quote, etc.

i didn’t think too much about it at the time but I’m actually going crazy over it now. I thought that I was incredibly tech illiterate. but— applying for graduate school and not knowing the real difference on why you’d use a .edu over a .com was insane to me. after further thought into this subject I honestly don’t even blame this individual. i genuinely think education, both public and university, are FAILING to teach people not only basic english skills, but basic online navigation.

this person was only 3-6 years older than me. university professors ask you to use APA formatted citations with academic sources and don’t even bother to read your citation list, calling it good enough if it looks correct when they skim over it. not to mention the citation list was almost absolutely generated on perdue owl’s APA 7 generator site. this lack of attention and honestly care of these instructors to teach, combined with the idea of “no child left behind” being implemented is currently allowing adults, some applying for GRADUATE school, to miss crucial aspects of academic writing. what’s worse is this person is studying language. i really don’t blame them— you don’t know what you’re never taught. i’m more upset that the institution had this person go through four years for their bachelor’s degree and somehow never taught them why you should try and use other urls/websites than a .com for an academic source. of course, there are exceptions to this rule, obviously. and, again, .com sites can absolutely be correct. but the fact that i had to explain this to someone applying for graduate school makes me not think that this PERSON is ignorant, but that the education system has failed to teach them the proper channels and methodology for what they’re doing.

this lends to a much bigger issue that I’m seeing in my workplace. that is, English-native speakers not being able to write…anything. illiteracy is no joke. and i work with people with learning disabilities and such pretty frequently— that’s not what I’m talking about. in fact, those writers are often more receptive to feedback and are actually easier to work with than someone who just wants me to “proofread” their essays. I’m not talking about writers with learning disabilities. however, I’ve seen honors-colloquium english students come in with some of the most unreadable garbage i’ve ever seen. and i don’t mean that to be an asshole. i mean, literally, i don’t even know what they’re writing about for half a page because i can’t understand their sentences. common mistakes i see, listed in no particular order:

1. Typing something out how it sounds. A correct sentence would be “David and I walked down town, looking for our lost dog.” I’ve seen a similar sentence that actually said “David an I walked downtown, looking four hour lost dog.”

2. Missing Punctuation. I mean genuinely no punctuation, anywhere. the entire essay is a run-on sentence. (I tutor only at the college level, for reference.) This also includes contractions not having the necessary apostrophe. I’ve seen “im,” “weve” “hasnt” more times than i want to admit.

3. Sentence structure. As in, no one knows how to write one. I get sentence fragments all the time. “Jumped on the bed and sat down.” While you can start on a verb, it most commonly has to be in gerund form (-ing words, in this case, Jumping.) Also, this sentence has no real subject, making it just feel wrong inserted into a larger paragraph. Who’s jumping? Your guess is as good as mine.

4. Right word, wrong type. “Your” versus “You’re.” “There” “Their” “They’re.” This sort of thing. Apostrophe “re” (‘re) signifies “are,” as in “You are” or “They are.” For the other two: There is where we go, I’m headed over there. Their has an “I,” so we’re talking about people, as in, The car is theirs. Another one much more uncommon that personally upsets me when I do see it is “Through,” “Threw,” and “Thru.” We’re going through the tunnel, and she threw the bottle behind her. Threw is a verb, an action word, whereas through is a preposition, adverb, and/or an adjective. “Going through” is an adverb, for example. Thru is a drive thru. You’re picking up a McChicken and a coke.

5. Misunderstanding nuance. This is almost exclusively seen in essays for english courses where they’re reading a book, sometimes something like a play or they watched a movie, but usually it’s a book. This is less “technically” wrong and more…media illiteracy than anything else. For example, I had someone write an essay on why they thought it was stupid that Gatsby was narrated by Nick Carroway. I wanted to hold their hand while I explained why, in fact, it was a purposeful and deliberate choice from Fitzgerald to make Gatsby the focal point but NOT the narrator. That it wasn’t an oversight because the author was stupid. I love literature analysis. But there’s a difference between having a different interpretation of a piece versus just fundamentally misunderstanding it. One of my favorite topics I’ve ever written about is the queer-coded nature of Carroway and Gatsby and symbolism in the novel, which might not be the author’s intent and most likely isn’t the same read that EVERY individual reading Gatsby had. There’s a difference between adding interpretation versus straight up just…not understanding a big part of it.

There’s absolutely more examples but to avoid redundancy (another huge issue in essays I read, but I digress), my point is that schools have failed us. Covid, no child left behind, etc. have ensured that everyone passes so long as they turn their work in. Not just that- completing an assignment is a 100% A+ in most cases. A professor is questioned and hated for giving a bad grade to a bad essay because the student has been Pavlov’d into thinking that turning in essay = A. they aren’t getting better because there’s no upper grade for them. if they can get a perfect grade turning in word vomit, why would they ever give a shit? why would they ever try to get better? but then, they encounter the one professor who doesn’t give easy grades. who wants their work to excel, who wants them to produce something of substance. and not only do they suffer greatly because of educational mishandling outside of their control, but then they blame the PROFESSOR, who only wants better for them. it’s a cycle that keeps everyone hating each other instead of hating the real villain of all of this. The American Education system.

I’m gonna get off of my soapbox because I could genuinely be here all day. Also, if I made any grammar or punctuation errors here and you think pointing it out is some epic “OWNING,” i assure you it is not. because the difference is that this is an unedited tumblr text post that is still written better than 75% of the essays that come across my desk.

#ophie speaks #shut up ophie #not shifting #writing #english #college #essay #essay writing #editing #writblr #tutoring #tutor #education #education system

3 notes · View notes

trollbreak · 6 months

Text

[Ophioc isn’t a terribly wise man. This isn’t news, of course, but… he feels it at a new height, as he sinks back to the floor, tangling his fingers in his hair and bracing his arms on his knees to keep himself upright as he squeezes his eyes shut and just breathes.

The pain is an all-encompassing burn, that carries with it waves of nausea and disorientation, seemingly at random.

All this over a mushroom he didn’t expect to end up with to begin with.

It couldn’t have been enough to lose him a friend, maybe more; it couldn’t have been enough to have to carry the uncertainty of his fate- no.

It was an easy thing, breaking it off at the stem. Mushrooms aren’t terribly durable, and this seems to extend to the kind that cultivated undeath. An easy mistake to make, easily enough tossed into the trash before the consequences could reach him.

He’s still greeting the people that come to the door- of course he is, he craves something enjoyable of this holiday… he’s not going to let himself squander all of it for the sake of sitting with things that can’t be undone. He’s putting those years on the stage to use, smiling and chatting away with anyone that knocks, and if they notice something’s off, at least they have the decency not to say anything.

He hears knuckles against the door again, far sooner than he hoped. Digs his fingers into his scalp another moment as he rallies himself, and takes a breath to stand…

…And the door opens. Shit, he didn’t… he didn’t think Jouren would come back tonight. They knew he’d be here all night… he’s been trying to make it easy to avoid him, they’ve been through enough as it is…

He stands too quickly, intending to tuck himself away into his room as long as needed, but… he can’t move that quickly, right now. He can’t even catch himself on the way back down-

His meeting with the floor isn’t as jarring as he expects it to be, but a shoulder suffers for it, a firm grip around his arm, and another hand coming around to his ribs on the other side, all but carrying him to the couch to sit down proper. It’s more than he’s bothered to do for the past few hours, for sure.

“What happened? You’re, um… you don’t look great.”

Jouren trails off into mumbling for a moment, or maybe Ophioc just stops listening while he gestures vaguely, eyes falling closed once more.

“I’m a dumbass, don’t worry about me… it’s. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t have to look to see the face Jouren is making at him. He knows the sigh of it well enough on its own.

“Come on, work with me a little bit. ‘D’you eat somethin’ that didn’t agree with you, or…?”

Ophi starts to shake his head, just enough to regret it, leaning into elbows on his knees while he tries to catch his breath again.

“…No… no, it’s just… dumb mushroom shit, ‘s my own fault…”

The words take too long to get out, and his voice shakes too much, it’s too telling, Jouren shouldn’t have to deal with this…

Their hand on his jaw is gentle, just lifting his head enough to look him over. Ophi opens his eyes and all, some attempt to prove that he’ll be fine, and he catches Jouren’s wince as the man’s eyes fall away from his face, down and to the side a bit… it takes him a moment to fill in the blanks of the mushroom he broke off, and that Jouren would understand better than maybe anyone else, here.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the olive beats him to it.

“Yeah… that’ll do it. Don’t think I’ve been this bad for it yet, but… yeah, no. Stay here, I’m gonna get you a drink-“

“Jouren, no. No, don’t let me- go have fun. Do halloween, you had plans-“

“Shut up.”

All his attempts to rally fall away again with a stern word and a harsh point, but the look in their eye is… soft. Something kind, something… not quite pity, but he hasn’t got the brainpower to find the match for it.

“You’re gonna stay there, and I’m gonna get you a drink, maybe call in some food, and grab some movies, and I’m not going anywhere ‘till all this lets up some. Then we can go get Mawris to smooth it over a bit, and can go from there, alright?”

Any sharpness to their voice falls away quickly, and Ophi lets his eyes fall closed again, leaning back into his elbows as he nods, just a little. He’d be lying if he said he’d not be at least a little glad to have the company… and maybe he hopes, a little, that he’s not chased Jouren off quite yet. They’re a good dude, and… well. Ophioc has missed his roommate.]

#writing #Ophioc dyceps #jouren #this wasn’t sposed to be nearly this long but um. :P #jourens putting on nightmare before christmas and rocky horror and little shop of horrors and stuff and ophi is laying w his head in his lap #because upright is too much. do u see the image

3 notes · View notes

kiwibirdlafayette · 4 months

Note

What are Ophi’s music tastes? or music you’d say is his theme?

!!! music music music 👀

I's say overall Ophi's a very musical theater kinda guy! :D I've always sorta wrote him as someone who loves showtunes and more pop music that derives from showtunes (I feel like he'd be really into AJR or whatever the mianite equivalent is) A lot of his motifs come from Hamilton and he also canonically knows about the barbie movie and the songs from it so take that as you will xD

His main character theme is Arrow by Folly and the Hunter ! To me the song's a lot about the fear of never finding and chasing down something that burns like a fire in your heart, calling you to something new and unknown- and finding the strength to leave behind all you've ever known and seeking it out- flying like an arrow towards it, a kind of freedom. It has a dual meaning as it represents Ophi's whole personality and drive to travel across the multiverse become a Dianitee in the face of everyone telling him not to/having to deal with leaving his family behind, and that his strength in combat is as an archer C:

I also have a playlist of his motifs for his character arcs during my mianite rpg POV, currently his arc is represented by Inertia by AJR :D

#I love talking about music i really do haha #i have a habit of like. writing to music like characterization/points in a story are tied to certain songs #thank you for the ask! :D is much appreciated #mianite oc #ophiuchus durabak #mianiterpg #lafakiwi talks #asks #licantropa #the hamilton joke goes deep btw like. the first time i wrote Ophi.#he was an RP character with my friends and we made a hamilton AU once and Ophi was Ham 😭 I made a whole animatic of him and my friends OC to #but now i cant like unassociate him so my shot and farmer refuted is on his current playlist bc even though its a different universe it stil #it still works

3 notes · View notes

starsasunder · 7 months

Text

@seatedsacrifice sent: [ dinner ] / Inanna

LOVE LANGUAGES, PART ONE: ACTS OF SERVICE. // Accepting.

[ dinner ] sender takes receiver out to dinner at their favourite place.

As they step out of the portal and find their footing, Inanna's eyes flutter open to find that they have landed in a darkened back alley. A single lamp illuminates the space, but it is blissfully free of onlookers who might question their method of travel. Glad to be free of the Rift for the time being, she glances around at their surroundings before realizing where they have landed. "Oh! Glad I brought a coat," she muses, holding onto his arm as she bends to adjust the strap of her heel, causing her hair to spill in loose curls over her shoulder. "It gets a bit chilly here at night."

#[ muse. ] inanna.#[ partner. ] seatedsacrifice.#// I'm not sure if the prompt means the sender or the receiver's favorite place so I'll let it be Ophi's #// sat on this and debated if I wanted to write a short or not and chose my sanity #[ ic. ]

6 notes · View notes

duskroine · 2 years

Text

THEY WHO WALK AMIDST THE STARS.

NOTES. happy birthday to ophelia ( technically their second birthday celebrated in toa ) WORDS. 781

TWENTY YEARS HAVE PASSED since the stars first fell.

Ophelia is older now. Experience weighs their mind like a mother’s advice, like a father’s encouragement. They have stepped further into the world of adulthood, tasted the bitter iron of death many a time, and even still, they walk the monastery’s halls as though there is not a single doubt upon their shoulders. The world is not their own, but one would not tell it from how comfortable they grace the environment. Every step, every smile, all carefully calculated; always to the comfort and influence of those around them.

Today, when the Hero of Darkness, child of the Chosen One, rises from their slumber, they scramble for the hand mirror on their bedside table. The reflection that looks back at Ophelia is themselves, yes, but surely, on a day of their twentieth or more year upon the land ( or less, since they were still unsure of how time moved within this realm ) some kind of change would have occurred. No, for now, they cannot recognize any differences; their gaze only rests upon small features of their own that they have failed to see before.

Sharper eyes, surely. Maybe even the more prominent brushes of freckles that have begun to blossom across her nose, towards the edges of her cheeks in clusters above her cheekbone. Same dark sepia skin. Same pale irises. Same aloofness.

Time has passed now. Ophelia does not prepare for class, excusing herself a dismissal for only today and only for this occasion. She does not expect a grand celebration for her day of birth— this is not Nohr or Hoshido or Valla, neither the villages and towns between. There, she would have held a parade, or a celebratory ball, perhaps. At home, she would have performed as an act of her final passing into adulthood. Here, when she had reached her nineteenth birthday, the day had almost been the same.

( She wonders how Ylisse would celebrate this day. Would there be a parade? A ball? Even the smallest celebration? Mayhaps, because there, she is a princess. Here, the title remains buried only to the faith and reminder of close relatives, those of a stature and culture she does not recognize. )

But no matter, because today, her heritage matters only in the way she wishes for it to. For every birthday she’s ever lived to celebrate, the Heroine of Darkness, daughter of the Chosen One has indulged herself in whichever she desired. Pomegranate dishes, sweet and full, for breakfast? The creation of flower crowns for an hour or two? Maybe she could devote a few moments of the day to write letters for those beloved back home. The list of recipients would be long, yes indeed. The young members of the former army, her second parent, the children of her deeprealm— no longer children now, she must remind herself. Maybe she could write to herself of future’s time.

( How would she start it? “Greetings Crimson Ophelia of many moons,”? The thought of an older her finding the letter useless is too much a burdened thought to bear. People change as they grow. Even though now, twenty-years-old and kicking her feet beneath her vanity, there are only minor changes to see, they are still present.

Fourteen-year-old Ophelia stuttered, bit her gloves in nervousness, and cried whenever darkness shrouded her. How would she react? How would she see her now? )

A shrug is all his body answers to the questions in his head. Ophelia rises from his vanity seat and stretches his arms above his head, awaiting the quick pull of joints and tension. There was no use to schedule the day before it even began. The moment he steps out of his room, the push and pull of the day will fall into the hands of fate. Maybe Ophelia can use this occasion as enough reason to withdraw peers and friends from the depths of class. Surely, they would rather spend the day with him, walking aimless until something cradles his attention and interest.

Bedroom door swings open and, with the testing pull of his cape, the Hero of Darkness, son to the Chosen One, leaves the warmth of the room. He will seek out the company of friends, peers, and foes alike. For today and many moons to come after: one skip at a time, Father would protest.

Still, on their desk, lies a letter unfinished and stained with blotches of pasted ink. A letter to everyone and no one. A letter for him and not. The only audience to its existence will be him and the stars. Yes, them. A letter to them, one of gratitude.

One still unfinished.

#〳◌ ⁀ « an expedition for the stars » ( WRITING. )#〳◌ ⁀ « star-born hero » ( DRABBLES. )#{{ v possible that i will delete this after i finish work today. it's a slay that i wrote but also at the same time #{{ anyway . i am v cheesed that this is ophy's second bday in toa :pleading:#{{ i hope everyone knows how much i adore them. if not i will do my best to remind everyone #{{ also this drabble is literally just here for her bday. nothing else. i wanted to be silly and write so #{{ also they're technically twenty but at the same time idk how time works here

8 notes · View notes

ediblehype · 4 months

Text

Dazai: I love having an autistic girlfriend. She’s not responding to my texts: has she finally decided to leave me? No. She’s watch people scoop crystals on YouTube.

Y/n, taking her headphones off: Huh? What did you say?

Dazai, smiling: I’m home, how was your day?

#for the culture #Bsd #Ophi writes

0 notes

estevnys · 7 months

Text

Finally caught up with schoolwork and will maybe write some type of bg3 ficlet tmrw.....

#EEEE #been wanting to write about ophie but personal wip and school has been so annoying #i need need need to write out interactions for ophie and the gang (tm) and especially astarion....

1 note · View note

ophiebot · 3 months

Text

Just gonna keep chugging and posting while the brainrot is fresh.

#self insert #ophie writes #crown of stars #undertale au #undertale multiverse #dreamtale

2 notes · View notes

writing-time-bitches · 3 months

Text

Onward! // Submas drabble

Based on this post by @critterbitter ! Go check it out. Now. 🔫😐

\\\

Zephyr loved his job. He loved being a subway conductor even if the workplace was at times subpar with its safety. Sure the rails needed to be redone, sure the AC sometimes shorted out, and sure people tended to battle on it a few too many times per day but by Arceus’ eighteen plates did he adore the Unovan subway.

The one thing that could possibly outdo his love for trains and railways are children. And there’s a certain trio of kids that come by every time, without fail, when his train comes to a stop in Nimbasa City. They loved the trains almost as much as Zephyr did, particularly the twins. The Sinnohan girl and her Blitzle were quiet, likely due to her language barrier, but they always seemed to be just as excitable.

It was commonplace by now for Zephyr and the kids to exchange greetings when they entered his train. And recently, the Sinnohan has been speaking more too! Zephyr would be lying if he said he didn’t feel like a proud father.

The kids, now with a new companion in the form of dwebble that relaxed in the blitzle’s bags, were seen commonly working on homework when the train was moving. School was starting up again since the summer has drawn to a close. The twins, especially Ingo, would often help their foreign friend with her Galarian and homework.

And today they seemed particularly determined though…

“Right on schedule, Mr. Zephyr!” Emmet and Ingo shouted in tandem, ending off with their hellos. Elesa waved with a grin and their pokemon did the same. Zephyr couldn’t help but let a smile slip through his stoic work facade as he tipped his gray hat at them. They hurriedly approached the subway doors exchanging friendly nods when they entered.

“Oh, by the way…” Zephyr rummaged through his coat pockets and produced four clear plastic bags that were tied with a cute yellow. Blitzle perked and brayed excitedly as he recognized one of the bags’ contents,”I remember you mentioning what treats your pokemon liked so my husband and I made some for you! I apologize if their not the best, I’m not exactly a baker… the sugar cubes are infused with lemon.” Zephyr mentioned, scratching at his growing stubble with an air sheepishness.

Elesa’s and Emmet’s grins grew wider and Ingo produced one of his signature odd Purloin-like smiles. Elesa bowed,”Arigatou! Thank you Mr. Zephyr!” Blitzle drew his lips back in an excited snarl as he sniffed at the bag of sugar, Elesa laughed and sat down in one of the seats close to the door he stood at. The twins were quick to follow her lead.

Zephyr loaded on more passengers, punching their tickets and all, requesting all pokemon larger 3ft be returned to their pokeballs unless they are medically trained. Once the last person was onboard he turned to the twins behind him, and as if they had used Foresight, they turned at the same time. Zephyr didn’t have to say anything they were already jumping to their feet.

Zephyr crouched down and turned on his radio,”Attention all passengers, Line 6 is now departing.” He held the black box towards the boys who screamed into the radio,”ALL ABOOOOAARD!”

All three of them snickered at the yelps and curses of surprises that echoed both within and outside the train. Elesa cackled at a group of teens who turned to glare daggers at Zephyr and the boys while holding their ears.

Emmet grinned with a mischievous triumph, foot tapping,”I am Emmet. I will never grow tired of that.” Ingo nodded in agreement,”Indeed, we owe a gratuitous debt for the times you’ve allowed us to send this train off.”

Zephyr gave a mere chuckle and stood up, straightening his coat,”Ah it’s no big deal. By the way,” he turned to his little passengers,”where are you headed off to this time?”

“Route 10.” Came the synchronized answer. Zephyr’s pale blue eyes widened before a worried frown found its place on his face,”Route 10? Are you sure? You know the cliffs are unstable there… and it right next to the League, plenty of powerful pokemon will be there.” All three nodded their heads, Ingo piped up seemingly having predicted the conductor’s hesitancy,”We are well aware of that. We plan to strictly stay on Boufallant herding trails and on designated hiking trails. And,” he spared a withering glance at his brother,”we will run and hide at the sight of any overly-strong pokemon.” Emmet shrunk at at the glare and exaggerated words,”I am Emmet. I prrrromise to follow the rules.”

Zephyr bite his lip, unconsciously running his hand through the thick brown curled locks of hair under his hat, a few strands fell into his eyes as he glanced between his young passengers,”Are you sure…? Are you going to tell your uncle where you’re going at least?”

Emmet and Elesa gave a shug while Ingo nodded,”That is the first thing we will do when we reach Opelucid. Right Emmet? Elesa?” Under the glare of the eldest twin the two electric-type enthusiasts were quick to nod. Satisfied with their compliance he turned to the other with complete self-assuredness and confidence.

Still, Zephyr couldn’t help but feel a little responsible.

“What if I came with you for part of the hike?” He offered. The trio blinked, apparently having not anticipated that response. Elesa was first to recover,”No need! We handle ourselves perfectly good!” She tried, her Sinnohan accent thick upon her clumsy tongue. Emmet nodded, with his little tynamo sparking,”I am Emmet! Thank you for the offer but no thank you.”

When Ingo hadn’t responded as well the two looked at him with a badly hidden pleas. Ingo, being the ever so responsible young man he was bite the side of cheek in consideration,”… I would not be opposed to the notion…” at that the litwick atop his hat started spewing words a mile-a-minute. Zephyr had no clue what she was saying but from Ingo’s grimace it seemed like something of a scolding. Ingo picked up his ghostly friend and muttered something in argument but the litwick was not hearing it.

Sighing in a dramatic defeat he looked up at the grown he had grown to trust sadly,”I must apologize, it would seem the party’s against a chaperone.” Elesa and Ememt and their pokemon gave a not-so-quiet cheer for independence while Ingo sat in remorseful silence. Zephyr sighed through his nose but gave an understanding smile,”It’s ok, I understand. You’re all growing up to be young adults now, it’s only expected you’d want to go off alone. But promise me one thing, you’ll call your uncle once you’ve reached Route 10’s entrance and when you get back to the city ok?” At that everyone nodded (Litwick gave a begrudging accepting nod and pouted; she will always crave independency and chaos) and Zephyr smiled.

“Good. I hope to see you soon when you’re done.”

Emmet tapped his foot nervously against the cold pavement of the station. Night was starting to fall and the Line 6 train has not arrived yet. Similarly Elesa had begun to pace around the small bench they were seated on, chewing on her already short nails.

Emmet leaned back and complained to his friend,”When is train gonna get heeeeerrrrugh.” He drawled, swinging his legs as he tilted his head to look at his brother who was busy trying to find out why their train was so late. Emmet didn’t like this. Line 6 was never late. Never. Zephyr would never let the subway be so late, especially when he and his friends were supposed to board. Litwick was unusually quiet too, she would definitely be complaining loudly by now but she was statue still as if her wax had cooled off and quiet as the stale wind in the tunnel they were in.

His and Ingo’s moms must be worrying. They should’ve been home by now…

Where the hell was Line 6?

A soft choked gasp erupted unbidden from his brother. Straightening with alarm he and Elesa turned to the eldest of the three,”Ingo? What’s wrong?” Ingo, face sucked pale as the snow that surrounded Iccirus City, turned to face his companions. Emmet felt the unease that was already bubbling in his stomach rise to just underneath his skin at the horrified and grief-stricken look on Ingo’s face. What happ—

“Line 6… had a derailment.”

Two days after the reported crash, the Nimbasan kids stood at the edge of a gathered group of mourners. Their pokemon were tucked in their pokeballs today.

The sun beat down on the group in an almost mockingly cheerful way. Elesa wished the scenery was like what it was in movies. Clouds should be covering the sun, the threat of rainfall thick in the air and congested with sombre music. Not the energetic chirping of pidoves, the yawns of sewaddles and swadloons or the cheerful floating of nearby whismsicott.

It should be depressing. Not single sound should be heard but the barely contained sniffles and sobs of the grieving.

Elesa glanced at the tombstone’s writing: Here lies Zephyr Harrison, loving son, brother and husband. 19xx - 19xx.

Elesa quickly has to look away, hands gripping each other tightly enough that she could feel her nails dig into her skin. She couldn’t bear to think about the kind train conductor who smiled at her proudly whenever she spoke a sentence in galarian, or the man who had given all of them tailor-made gray conductor hats that matched his. She couldn’t bear to think of the man who felt like a doting older brother or a second father.

Next to her Emmet was swaying a little too hard, almost tipping to fall on his face one too many times, and staring— no, glaring— at the earth beneath him like it had wronged him in some inexcusable way. His smile was no where to be seen, replaced by a tight, wobbly straight line instead. His eyes were misty with unshed tears.

Ingo wasn’t much better. His face was schooled into a mask of indifference as he stared distantly past the grave and stock still like a statue. The only thing that told you he was alive was the uneven and short breaths he was taking, as if trying to not burst into fat ugly tears.

To be honest, Elesa was trying to not do the same. She never noticed how constant Zephyr was in their lives until he was 6 feet in the ground. Her mind couldn’t stop replaying all the little moments she had shared with the older man, his fond smiles and the proud glimmer in his eyes, other tics the man had. Like adjusting his hat just before leaving to the control car, or carting his hand through his hair, or how his eye twitched every time he dealt with a Karen on his train. The slightly off-center quirked lips in his teethy grins.

Grief burrowed itself deeper in her heart when she realized she was never going to feel Zephyr’s hand ruffled her hair with unsaid affection.

Elesa was going to miss Zephyr.

The twins were going to miss Zephyr.

46 notes · View notes

isaut · 7 months

Text

i think i need new masterlists

#ophie x polls #i have an idea but i am curious #but if it was only by character it would just be a long list of all the fics of one character #i only write for a few so that makes sense imo but #i feel like i have to do both for pretty sense

1 note · View note

ekwallace · 10 months

Text

me, writing: Oooh, delicious angst...

Ophelie: Stop it! I do not enjoy it!

me: But suffering builds character.

Ophie: I have enough of character. This accent you have give me makes me sound ridiculous.

me: You don't have any reason to be fluent in Doronnese. Besides, it's cute.

Ophie: Hmph. You know who needs more character? Tristan.

me: Oh, there's enough suffering to go around. He's in love with you, remember?

Ophie: I don't think I like implication of that.

#writing #ophie and tristan

0 notes

trollbreak · 3 months

Text

Mr dyceps I love u

#he’s just sitting there!!#like bbygirl there’s something Unusual going on with u evidently and he goes. ok but that’s not my problem. and I go ok but it literally is #can I write about this. and he goes. hm. I don’t think that’s my problem actually. I’m gonna go get groceries. and I’m like. ophi pls lmao

0 notes

rustboxstarr · 1 year

Text

⚔️Welcome⚔️

Starr’s Masterlist, links, and rules

Navigation for my page 👽👽

Links

Smut

Who breaks first?

Shut up!

Lovers Lake

Pep Rally

Animal sex, Animal sex

This is 36- Dad!Mechanic!Eddie

Can't Fuckin' Sleep- Dad!Mechanic!Eddie (Request)

First time for everything- Virgin!Eddie

Grown Ups -Dad!Mechanic Eddie

The Incentive

You're prefect.

The babysitter doesn't leave for another hour- Dad!Eddie

Fluff

No running in the halls!

Snow day shenanigans

Native language

Grocery store

Seeking attention like some common whore

Series

You Don't Have To Say You Love Me masterlist

Grown Ups masterlist

Starr Thinks

Scenarios/ things I think about

Screen capture - list of Eddie Munson hotspots

Modern Eddie Munson (inkl smut, fluff, headcons, instagram etc etc)

Headcons

Headcons pt 2

Dating Eddie Munson, your instagram

The incentive - Smut

Dad!Eddie Ophi and Roxy universe

This is 36- Dad!Mechanic!Eddie - Smut

Can't Fuckin' Sleep- Dad!Mechanic!Eddie (Request) - Smut

Tapping out - Blurb fluff

Dad!Eddie Headcons

Grown Ups - Dad!Mechanic!Eddie - Smut, angst and fluff

Seeking attention like some common whore

The babysitter doesn't leave for another hour

Quick rules before you start commenting:

Do not come for my photo covers, I get my photos from Pinterest and they are fuckin shit at being inclusive in size and people of colour etc, like I sware to god it’s just about skinny white girls. I also create my photo covers while I’m on my last bit of energy and just want to post my fic and be done with it, so yes I may be able to find other photos but if I spend time on covers imma push it till later and then forget and just never post.

Reblogs, commenting, requests, liking all that stuff is greatly appreciated! Especially comments and asks I loooove hearing people’s opinions and just talking in general ❤️

I will NOT be accepting if you are upset with the fact that my writing is about plus size and neurodivergent people because it’s 2023 and u can go ahead and find somewhere else to put that attitude, thank you!

If you send anything in my ask box that you even have a sliver of doubt may be perceived wrong make it clear in your ask! I do not understand sarcasm or some jokes when written in text and will take it seriously. (Autism (not so) rizz, its a problem HAHAHA)

108 notes · View notes