#Should Icelandic just not exist anymore then?

[possibilistfanfiction]

hey!! saw you reblogging some of your butch bea stuff & just wanted to tell you that it lowkey changed my life and that if you ever want to revisit that universe you’d have at least one very avid & enthusiastic reader. there’s no pressure though — im grateful it exists at all!!

[i am going to be completely honest, i have no idea what this little prompt fill is but i love butch bea sm, it's soft & basically plotless. feeling so normal about her this pride month lol. also some lilith pov for the culture.]

//

not that you like people, but if you had to pick a favorite, under deep duress, beatrice would be at the top of your list. not that you would ever, ever tell her that, but, unfortunately, you're also pretty certain she knows. and, to your utter horror, you find that you have a reluctant soft spot for ava — you try to contribute it to beatrice being your sister, and therefore ava is basically your sibling-in-law, because they're not married yet but you watched beatrice say goodbye and you watched her grieve and you watched her fall in love, disgustingly, every second of every day, when ava returned. and, sure, ava is steadfast and faithful and far too brave and saved the world, twice, but, like. his relentless optimism and terrible sense of humor is too much sometimes.

but, you remind yourself when you get his text — he's your family too. someone who should have never forgiven you, you remember, like acid leaking in your stomach, but ava has always been too generous. and so you answer with an eye-roll emoji but also I'll be there in ten.

it's not the first day that ava has asked for help, and you're sure it won't be the last, but these days don't happen all that often anymore. you understand, though: your wings ache and sit heavy some nights when you can't sleep, and even if you fly over mountain ranges or tropical fjords or the flat, gorgeous planes of the savannah, deserts and oceans, the world — this admittedly beautiful earth, better than all the heavens — isn't quite enough to hold your sorrow. or, maybe it holds it along with you, and you can't quite put it down.

so you diligently mask your scales with jillian's annoying but very useful tech, and you put on an outfit that nun-you would have deemed inappropriate and nun-beatrice would have blushed furiously at, and teleport from your favorite room, tucked away in the middle of nowhere on a tiny island off the coast of iceland to beatrice and ava's sunny, big house on the beach. it's cool today, though, the day covered in a marine layer that's lingered for months. beatrice looks surprised when you show up in their kitchen, where she's staring off into space while, apparently, very slowly unloading the dishwasher. ava says hello from the living room, where you assume they're on the couch with korra by their side.

'hello, lilith.'

you pop a fresh grape into your mouth from the bowl sitting there in lieu of greeting.

'those are for ava,' beatrice says, and her hands shake and you can tell from the set of her shoulders that ava was right, that the world stings in your palms and up your spine, and sometimes you just need someone to see you through it until it calms.

'he can share,' you say, eat another one and swipe the bowl with beatrice scowling after you as you walk into the living room. ava is, unexpectedly, watching some reality tv drivel — so what if you're caught up on all ten seasons of vanderpump rules, it reminds you of hell if anyone asks — but she smiles sincerely when you hand her the bowl, one you're pretty certain beatrice had sculpted and glazed with her own hands.

'i can share a few,' ava says, and you don't bother to stop yourself from scratching korra's head in greeting when ava nods. you can admit that korra is awesome; she has loyalty to ava but at least you can understand that one. she's wearing a hoodie you know is beatrice's favorite, so it's ava's favorite too, and a beanie; ava hadn't mentioned it, but you know on really bad days her body has trouble regulating its internal temperature too — and if the pile of blankets at the foot of the couch is anything to go by, you're guessing that's happening too.

'you've looked better.'

ava rolls her eyes and beatrice flicks you on the back of the head. 'so have you,' ava says, but you look hot and so you know by that lackluster insult she really is in a good deal of pain.

'ava's back is bad today,' beatrice says, as if that wasn't completely obvious from the way ava has a heating pad and special pillow and is propped up on the couch with korra attentively lying next to her, ready to get anything or alert if she needs to.

'lots of hand spasms,' ava says, 'which are the worst, who knew?'

the only reason you refrain from making a dirty joke is because you'd never want them to think you have ever, for one moment, thought about their sex life. 'well, i'm taking beatrice for a bit,' you say, which is just what ava asked for, 'so maybe some heavier duty pain meds and a nap? we can bring you a late lunch.'

you feel beatrice stiffen behind you. 'i need to be here today,' she says, clipped and anxious. 'what if ava —'

'what if i what, bea?' ava says, without any malice, but with a glint in her eye that even you know to be careful of. 'i just need to sleep today and watch some stupid tv. we can go through all my rehab exercises in the evening again, like we always do.'

beatrice's jaw is clenched, and she bites her bottom lip.

'bea,' ava says, and reaches for her hand, and, not for the first time at all, do you feel a little out of place. lonely, and sad, and aching: they are in love, however much it annoys you. there's a care there that you're fairly certain you will never have, and never be able to give.

'a few hours, beatrice,' you say. 'that's all.'

ava had texted that beatrice had been losing track of time and tasks all morning, which is a sign you'd all started to understand as a bad ptsd day, not infrequently leading to a panic attack or a flashback if she's left to her own devices. usually, they won't have bad days at the same time, some divine knowledge of something, but today the stars hadn't lined up.

but beatrice sighs and then nods: she knows herself, knows when her brain is misfiring or misaligned, when things aren't quite as real as they should be. ava's hands are in painful, involuntary fists and so it's up to you today, to hold beatrice's through it.

'great, now that that's settled,' you say, when she offers nothing else. you take her wrist and, just for fun, teleport her right into the middle of the ocean, until she's spluttering and yelling but then, blessedly, lets out a laugh. you teleport her right back to her shower and even ava is grinning from inside. 'get ready,' you tell her, throw a towel at her from the neat stack in their patio bin. 'see you in fifteen.'

'don't have too much fun catching up on vanderpump rules without me,' she says, color back in her cheeks and a clarity seeping into her eyes.

'i hate that show.'

'sure,' she says, dismissing you with a wave of her hand, and, fine, you do join ava on the couch, but it's only because he's high and divulges, eagerly, beatrice's latest cooking mishap. beatrice comes in from their bedroom a few minutes later, looking a little steadier still, in soft, tailored pants and an oversized t-shirt, tucked in precisely. she's put contacts in and has sunglasses slipped into the collar of her shirt, a thick, fancy watch on her wrist. ava, even in a lot of pain, looks like they might start drooling. 'great.' you fling a pair of pristine birkenstocks at beatrice, who catches them with a scowl, 'you look fine to be in public. let's go.'

'bye, baby,' ava says, frustratingly unfazed by you. beatrice smiles, gently, her eyes clear for the moment when all she has to focus on is ava, and kisses her forehead, gently cups her jaw in her hand. 'love you, have fun.'

'i love you too,' beatrice says.

'no fun,' you say, and ava's still laughing as you touch beatrice's elbow and teleport on your way.

/

'this is my sister, lilith,' beatrice introduces, and, like, whatever, your heart swells in your chest and you feel warm and kind. you sink into it — only for a moment.

'nice to meet you,' beatrice's barber says, offering her hand with a genuine, easy smile, not batting an eye that you and beatrice look absolutely nothing alike; you feel warm and kind again when you think about beatrice talking about you as her sister to people you've never met, that you matter to her enough to mention. 'i'm xavi.'

'xavi, cool.'

beatrice sits down in the chair, comfortable and present, even though her hands still shake, but it's clear that this is a space she's always been made to feel safe. somewhere she's always been made to feel seen, which you realized, over the past few years, she had never had, despite how much you had — and still do — still love her.

'same thing, bea?' xavi asks.

bea nods. 'you can take the skin fade up a little higher, i think. it just grows so fast.'

xavi nods. 'sounds good.'

and it's not like you don't spend a fair amount of your time with beatrice and ava, because they live somewhere beautiful and it brings you deep joy to annoy them, and, like, drag brunches and queer bars are admittedly very fun, but to see your sister just be is kind of moving. and maybe she realizes that too, that it's special you're here, that it's special you're allowed to be here, in this space that is very much hers, the quiet hum of the clippers in the background, while she chats with her barber about the latest ridiculous episodes of love island — which, yes, you have watched; yes, you do participate in the conversation after beatrice includes you immediately, because you're only so strong and it's always been a summer tradition of yours to watch nightly — and they laugh together. you laugh too, and then all of a sudden beatrice is crying, and xavi turns the clippers off carefully. beatrice snakes a hand out from under her cape and tries to wipe her eyes.

'i apologize,' she says, really trying to get it under control. 'i — sorry.'

'she's having a weird day,' you offer, and beatrice nods with a sniffle. you don't bother to explain further — that's beatrice's to tell, if she ever wants to — but it seems to calm beatrice a little bit.

'sorry,' she says again. 'i — i'm just happy to be here,' she says, adds a quiet, 'as i am,' and xavi just squeezes her shoulder.

'i'm happy about that too.'

beatrice lets out a big breath and steadies herself; you feel relieved too that you won't have to deal with a panic attack in the middle of a barber shop while beatrice's hair isn't nearly faded properly. 'i never cry.'

you roll your eyes. 'if by "never" you mean five to ten times a week...'

beatrice shoots you a glare through the mirror and you just grin, all teeth.

xavi laughs a little and turns the clippers back on. 'it's okay,' she says. 'you're secret's safe with me.'

/

admittedly, beatrice's hair does look great, a clean fade and a little messy pomade on top, but you've already complimented her on this haircut twice so you're certainly not doing that again. you walk with her along the street her barbershop is on, that she knows well and it hits you quietly that you know it well too. you don't have a home — you haven't had a home in a while — but this might come close.

years ago, before the war, before all of it, on a bad day the two of you would go at it for hours sparring, blood on your knuckles and along your teeth and once mother superion had been irate when you got such a good shot in beatrice's eye was swollen shut for days — but there is no war anymore. there are small battles, but beatrice hasn't fought since she got hurt; even though she's better now, with a sturdy rod down her femur and scars that don't seem to bother her much down her abdomen, you think, unofficially, that she's not ever going to fight again.

you don't have the same fate, you know, but for today you look beautiful in an easy bright blue shift dress and sunglasses, your hair dark and long, and beatrice's hands have stopped shaking.

'sushi?' you ask, a reach, maybe, but when she smiles you know you were right.

it makes you realize, too, when you sit down at a restaurant you've come to so many times with her — and ava, too — that you know the server, who greets you both by name and brings you shishito peppers and spicy edamame without you even having to order. beatrice relaxes in her chair after a second on the patio, lets out another deep breath.

'all right?'

she takes her sunglasses off and nods. 'thank you.'

you shake your head. 'you're my sister.'

you mean it: i have not forgotten who you are; i have not forgotten who i am. you mean it: i love you. even if the words get stuck in your chest, even if you can't quite say them — you mean it.

'plus,' you say, 'you're paying, and i'm ordering the best sake on the menu.'

she laughs, bright and easy, and shrugs. 'you know the catholic church and my horrible parents are footing the bill anyway. we should order whatever we want.'

you remember when you were nineteen and beatrice was brand new to the ocs, how much you felt frustrated by her, deeply: she was earnest, and so serious, and very hurt, but kind in a way you never could be. the pressure sat heavy on both of your shoulders, but she held it with grace. 'could you have imagined this life when we first met?'

she seems as surprised by your question as you are that you even asked it, but her smile is easy and she runs a hand along her buzzed hair with a laugh. 'i think i would have had a heart attack if anyone had told me even a sliver of what my life is now.'

you wait a beat but then you do laugh, because it's true. your server brings you your sake and some sashimi you'd ordered, along with some scallops that are your favorite. ava sends a text in the group chat the three of your have — which you refuse to really participate in, but fine — saying that she's doing fine, that she had to take a fever reducer but korra's been on top of anything she needed to get so ava hasn't had to try to get up, that the protein smoothie beatrice had made her had been fine and she's just going to try to sleep some more. it makes beatrice relax even more, palpably, and you understand, in some way.

'you've retired, haven't you?'

she calmly swallows her tuna and then puts down her chopsticks. 'fighting? yes.'

it's simple and it's big and it's quiet. you knew already.

'but i'll be around. you know i enjoy research, archival, collaborations with jillian. i'm not — this will always be part of my life.' it's unspoken too: you will always be part of my life. and you know she means it.

'good,' you say, and for the first time in longer than you can really remember it feels like you're able to offer a benediction.

her eyes are soft as the clouds burn off, finally, as the afternoon turns warm. 'i — i want to live a long life.'

you can't say anything, but you can nod. you want that too — for her, for all of you. 'plus,' you say, 'ava was even worse than normal when you got blown up.'

she rolls her eyes, as glad for the levity as you are. you drink more sake and order more sushi and laugh as you watch people walk by on the street and beatrice offers — delightfully and playfully kind of mean — commentary about some of them. she's been your person for a long time, you remember, her gentleness despite bullets and arrows and bombs, despite holy wars, despite knuckles — yours, or hers, or both — split open to the bone. beatrice holds her chopsticks easily, steadily, and the scars on the tops of her hands shine white in the sun, but they've faded. you can only see them if you know where to look.

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #yknow i am always sososo normal abt found family but especially during pride #sisters! #prince & ollie here u go ur girl #butch bea 🥺🫡 #who knows. not me. thank u for this kind ask tho anon :)

[obstinatecondolement]

This got long, but basically my hot takes about disability and prenatal screening.

I think that the thing is that like... we don't actually have the technology to edit the germ line, so high falutin' talk about "What if someone could alter your DNA so you didn't have your disability anymore?" is kind of just pointless high concept sci-fi wank.

What we can actually do in real life is embryo screening and/or selective abortion. And, like, absolute bottom line: no one who doesn't want to be pregnant should be forced to remain pregnant and neither should they be shamed for exercising their bodily autonomy by having an abortion. I don't have a problem with someone aborting a foetus they do not think they could be a good parent to, or for having an abortion for any reason.

But what I have a problem with is when people are strongly pressured to have prenatal screening for genetic and chromosomal conditions done as standard, when it very much doesn't have to be standard, and told implicitly or explicitly that they are bad parents if they don't consent to it.

What I have a problem with is when people who discover their foetus has Down's syndrome are then implicitly or explicitly pressured to abort and are given out of date information about the health impacts of Down's and the life expectency of adults with Down's syndrome, and are never offered the opportunity to meet adults with Down's syndrome to talk about their lives and what they think a parent of a child with Down's syndrome should be aware of.

What I have a problem with is funding for services for disabled people who exist right here and right now being cut and, because of that, parents who chose to carry a disabled foetus to term (as, more importantly, is there now born disabled child) are punished for that choice by a lack of resources and a more hostile world that their child must grow up in. Since they could (and implicitly "should") have made another choice, it is now the fault of the parents if their disabled child grows up to "suffer" from their disability due to societal factors like ableism, poverty, lack of access to necessary care (that isn't provided for free by family, or privately for prohibitive amounts of money that most disabled people cannot afford), lack of access to education and employment, lack of access to public spaces and public life, etc. Because disability is framed as being inherently difficult and undesireable, nothing ever has to be done to change society to make it less difficult or improve the lives of disabled people who have already been born.

"If you could wave a magic wand and your autism would go away, would you do it?" Well, that's irrelevant, because I can't.

"If a genetic marker for autism was found, would you screen your foetus for autism if you were pregnant?" That's more a sensible question, and the answer is that I probably wouldn't, because I figure that children genetically related to me would probably be autistic anyway and I don't think that it would be a problem either way.

Would I have a problem with a prenatal autism screening test existing in the first place? That's a more complicated question and I honestly am not totally sure what my take on all the nuances of that are. If it ever happened, I would have a lot to learn from activists with Down's.

Like, for the record, "What about disabled children being aborted?" is something that anti-choice people throw around a lot and I do not care to be used as a blunt instrument to bludgen the bodily autonomy of pregnant people. But, at the same time, it is also troubling to me when there is a group of people who are underserved and pathologised to the extent that there would be a chance they would all disappear within a couple of generations if they could be screened out of the population before birth.

As far as I know, there are only one or two people with Down's syndrome born in Iceland every year, and that horrifies me. Not because I think abortion is murder (again: it's not), but because of what that means for disabled Icelandic people, and disabled people who might want to emigrate to Iceland, and disabled refugees who may seek asylum there.

Abortion is a personal, private, individual choice, and individuals should not be judged or shamed for making whatever choice they feel is right for them. But if everyone is always making the same choice, then maybe that choice is not entirely uncoerced or uninfluenced. But I think that this is all really complicated and I don't know what all the answers are, so I'm not sure what to do with that to be perfectly honest.

[miniongrin]

Fake Emmet AU - Part 3

Introducing: Lady Sneasler and the Pearl Clan

[AU Master Post]

~

At first, “Emmet” leads them away from the Pearl Settlement on the very thought-out and rational sentiment of ew, humans. (Ingo is an exception; Ingo is Emmet’s human.)

But the Icelands are really not the ideal place for Emmet to be wandering around with his brand-new brother on account of a few things like, say, the intense and incredible cold. Emmet thought humans were sturdier than that, from what he’s seen of the humans that wander around here, but Ingo shivers practically anytime they leave the little cave they’ve staked out, and Emmet is 99% sure that’s a bad thing.

…Time to leave the Alabaster Icelands, then!

Most Zorua don’t leave the Icelands, sure, but honestly that can only be a bonus at this point. Zorua and Zoroark as an evolution line are pretty solitary, so Emmet doesn’t have a pack or anything, and he’s starting to worry that if they do stay here long enough to come across a Zoroark, his soul-bonded brother is going to get eaten. This concept is distressing in a way Emmet is verrry unprepared for!!

Leaving takes them right to the only adjacent region: the Coronet Highlands. Still a little snowy, but much warmer than where they were. It’s also less dangerous, technically, but the dangers that still exist are now ones that Emmet isn’t necessarily familiar with.

They run into an alpha within the first 24 hours—Emmet knew where to steer clear of them in the Icelands, so it’s the first alpha Ingo has ever seen, which Emmet doesn’t realize.

Ingo does not hide and then run like he should. He reaches for his belt, for something he can’t find, and ends up getting injured before Emmet grabs him and bolts. He can’t carry Ingo very far, but alphas don’t wander much, so he’s pretty sure they’ve gotten away. Safe enough to take the time to look at Ingo’s injuries, at least—and then another Pokémon shows up, and a very stressed Emmet leaps between an unconscious Ingo and a Sneasler that’s tall enough to make Emmet worry for a minute before he registers the lack of the glowing red eyes.

The Sneasler does not look intimidated by Emmet leaping forward. It tips its head to the side curiously. “…Did you just jump between me and the human?”

Emmet has no idea how to take that question, or the fact that the Sneasler is even asking him questions. “Maybe? Why do you care?”

“I am Lady Sneasler. Assisting humans is my duty.”

Emmet is a baby Zorua who has only sorta kinda vaguely heard the deal with Noble Pokémon. He recalls something about Nobles not being big fans of Zorua, as a rule, but that doesn’t seem important right now when—“You help humans? Do you know how to fix one?”

They both look at Ingo, who is unconscious and concerningly bloody.

“I can give it my best shot,” Lady Sneasler offers.

She takes Ingo to her den, and with her eclectic knowledge of humans (“You can’t just… feed them an oran berry?” “I know, it’s so inconvenient.”) and Emmet’s opposable thumbs, they do all right. Ingo starts healing, and he even wakes up briefly! He’s loudly fascinated by Lady Sneasler, who is very flattered by the attention, and Emmet is verrry relieved.

And then Ingo develops a fever.

He starts having trouble waking up fully, and the persistent confusion even when he manages it really worries Lady Sneasler—and Emmet, who has to admit that Ingo has been confused a lot since they met, but this is different than the usual forgetting, and it keeps getting worse.

Lady Sneasler firmly tells Emmet that she can’t help Ingo anymore; he needs a human healer. Emmet cringes at the idea, but he can’t actual argue when he knows she’s right. He helps her pack Ingo up in her basket and then reverts to his natural form, so that he can spend the journey to the Pearl Settlement curled up as a little red and white fox in Ingo’s limp arms.

~

In any other situation, the Pearl Clan would be pretty suspicious of strangers showing up out of nowhere, much less strange twins, but, well, when one of your honored Nobles shows up with an injured human and his very worried twin in tow, there’s some questions you just don’t stop to ask yourself. And when Lady Sneasler hands Ingo off to the healer, she immediately parks herself right outside the tent, so apparently she likes these humans! And no one’s going to argue with her.

Emmet, very grateful for Lady Sneasler’s free pass into the village, immediately tucks himself away in a corner of the healer’s tent while she bustles about to fix up Ingo’s wound properly and makes a medicinal tea for his fever. He does not want to interact with humans he doesn’t have to; he doesn’t know what will happen if they find out he’s not one of them.

A few hours later, Ingo is still unconscious, but he’s somewhere cozy and warm and he’s breathing easier already. The healer says they’ll need to let him rest for now, and see how he’s faring in the morning, but Emmet can feel how Ingo’s soul is rallying again instead of slowly starting to slip away.

He finally, finally starts to relax with the hope that things are going to be okay.

Then the healer then very kindly informs Emmet that she clocked him as a Zoroark like an hour ago, but Lady Sneasler seems to approve of him, and the Pearl Clan trusts its Nobles. So she’d kind of like an explanation rather than just trying to chase him off. Especially since, if he found Ingo in the Icelands and then managed to get him found by Lady Sneasler, he’s apparently saved a human twice already.

Emmet’s smile feels a little frozen. “How did you—uh, I am not… a Zoroark. I am Emmet.”

“Your hats have the exact same mud spatter on the trim, and the same scuff on the side of that metal circle. Try varying the wear and tear a little, instead of copying it. It’ll look less like an illusion that way.”

Illusions, Emmet decides, can be very tricky when the person you’re fooling doesn’t have a concussion.

Emmet is still wary, so the healer explains that most of the clan is too young to remember, but there actually was a Zoroark who pretended to be a stranger wandering in from the wastes, and then just… lived as a human. Caused no trouble. No one knew she was a Pokémon until she passed in her sleep and didn’t leave a human body behind. So… spiteful and baneful can’t be all they are.

Emmet finally caves and explains how Ingo found him and mistook him for his twin when he transformed, and that he just wants to stay with Ingo. It’s just that Emmet isn’t really sure how to take care of a human, and things got bad after the injury.

The healer says that that, at least, is something she can fix, and starts to tell Emmet the sort of health concerns and first-aid he’ll need to know, both pretending to be a human and looking out for one.

~

It doesn’t come up again until after Ingo has woken up, which is also about the same time that Irida has returned to the Pearl Settlement after a visit to the Coastlands.

Ingo’s a lot less addled than he was when he was feverish, but he’s still forgetting things semi-frequently. The healer is extremely concerned about this until Emmet tells her his memory was already like that, though even then she still frets because the fever couldn’t have helped.

Irida hears about the outsiders in the healer’s tent, brought by Lady Sneasler, and goes to check them out in time to get the explanation along with the healer: Ingo explains his memory issues, and Emmet sticks to his story that they both fell through some sort of rift in the sky. Irida is cautious, but with Lady Sneasler’s presence as a clear sign of her blessing, she gives them permission to stay at least until Ingo is better, and a tentative offer to discuss whether they can stay longer than that.

…After which the healer does take Irida aside to explain that Emmet’s a Zoroark, because that’s something you should really explain to your clan leader at the soonest available opportunity. But it’s also really, really clear to both of them that Ingo’s leaning hard on Emmet to help with his memory, and given that Emmet reports that he didn’t run away from an alpha the instant it spotted him, the healer is… a little concerned about whether Ingo would really make it on his own.

So when Ingo is finally asleep, that night, Irida goes and talks to Emmet alone about the situation.

She lays out a few of the ground rules that she would expect of a friendly Pokémon allowed into the village—mostly rules on how not to upset the people who live there, which Emmet does actually find helpful to have laid out—and then asks him, point blank: “I know you’re only pretending to be Ingo’s brother, but you saved Ingo’s life. So, Zoroark, tell me: does the Pearl Clan have a reason to fear you, as long as Ingo is safe?”

Emmet has a moment of crisis, because this may be very un-Zorua-like of it, but also… vengeance and spite just don’t sound as compelling as they used to, compared to the warmth of this little tent and the sound of Ingo’s steady breathing.

“I am Emmet,” he says. “I will stay with Ingo. Ingo does not want to hurt anyone. As long as he is safe, neither will I.”

Irida nods sharply, and completely fails to hide how her shoulders relax at his promise. She turns to leave, and hesitates near the tent flap. “I… was thinking about insisting that you tell Ingo the truth,” she says slowly. Emmet stiffens; she continues, “But our healer said that wouldn’t be a good idea. Ingo’s memory and health is very dependent on you, and enough of a shock could…” She trails off, and the unspoken image of how Ingo might react hangs between them like a raised knife. “Well, he wouldn’t do well out there on his own. And I don’t want to hurt someone when I’m trying to help them.”

Emmet smiles, and starts agree. She cuts him off.

“But if his real brother shows up, then I’m telling him.”

Irida turns to Lady Sneasler, bows, thanks her for watching over the humans in Hisui’s vast space, and leaves a still-speechless Emmet in the tent behind her.

It’s not like Emmet can argue with her, after all, as uncomfortable as the idea makes him feel—and he’s even uncomfortable with the fact that he is uncomfortable. He’s helping Ingo, isn’t he? But, he consoles himself, the odds of anyone falling through another space-time rift, much less Ingo’s twin brother, are verrrry low. It’s better for Ingo if he really believes that Emmet is his twin, so that he doesn’t have to feel that loneliness. If Ingo’s real brother is out of reach, then Emmet isn’t taking anything from anyone!

Lady Sneasler is staring at him. Emmet smiles at her, a little nervously. “…You are going to keep hanging around so the nice humans don’t kick us out, right?”

“Oh, of course. You’re interesting.” She cocks her head to the side. Her face always has that smug sneasel-that-got-the-starly grin, but now it looks like it’s on purpose. “And I might have an idea for where you guys should go after this, too.”

Emmet suddenly feels very nervous. “And what would that be?”

Her smile just gets a little wider, a little smugger, and she ducks back out of the tent without actually answering him.

#lady sneasler sees a baby pokemon protecting a human and goes 'is anyone gonna adopt those two?' #and doesn't wait for an answer #she's their big sister now and if this is a surprise to emmet that sounds like a him problem #also yeah it's probably more realistic for the pearl clan to freak out but consider: i want fluff and only very mild sad #so instead they get enough evidence to extend a little bit of trust to this very weird little zorua #fake emmet au #submas

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#ask = answered asks

#anon = anon asks

#my face = selfies and og pics 😎

#moochies = mutuals and things i was tagged in 💕

#tag game = tag games

#ask game = ask games

smut:

i stopped tagging #nsfw bc i was very inconsistent with it but i still use it as a blanket thing for hardcore stuff (which i dont rb very often).

update march '23: decided to start tagging #nudity again to make filtering easier for my followers. i'll use it for all kinds of naked people (full, partial, sexual, non-sexual, etc.) in addition to the existing community tags and my own thirst tags. let's see if i can keep it up 🥴 if you want to be on the safe side feel free to block individual tags as well:

#ah ohhh big honkin boobies some massive mmmmommy milkers huge hombers like massive gazongas just enormous milkin hooters = the prize-winning tiddy tag

#thirst tag

#just a hole etc

#full cocking balls = 🍆 and 🍒

#omg nobody look hes ass = butts 🍑

#ough veiny = veiny body parts

#ough hairy = hairy men

#hands = 👋

#slutty slutty stache = mustache pics 👨🏻

#sigh = gay kissies 💋

#tenderness = touch and skin and general physical intimacy

oh and i use "👁️👁️" in a few other horny tags so if you filter that too you should be good <3

general sfw things:

#adhd = adhd stuff

#fav = things i want to find again ❤️

#ref = useful information

#mecore = smutecore 🥺

#is he single = sfw thirst tag

#in many ways i am a large pickup truck = its true i am

#bopo = body image things, body positivity/neutrality

#always reblog = poasts i know ive reblogged a lot 🔄

#german stuff = german stuff 🇩🇪

#want and #shopping list = stuff i want, mostly earrings 🛒

text:

#poetry = poems

#words = words 📖

#note to self = kind motivational things/advice/general positivity ☀️

#lit = lit studies including all my hot takes 🤓

#ling = linguistics

#writing = writing 📝

visual:

#art = mostly paintings 🖼️

#photography = photography 📷

#portrait = portraits

#people = duh

#dudes chilling sexily = art of dudes chilling sexily (tm harsha)

#men with books = 3 guesses

#arch = architecture

#homes = interiors

#dream home = exteriors lmao

#donttouchme = remote hice 🏡

#they dont make them like this anymore = old books📕

#vestiture = clothes shoes bags jewelry etc

#10/10 would wear = also clothes 💃🏼

#embroidery = embroidery 🪡

nature:

#i miss the sea = water 🌊

#so liedownable = soft grass 🌱

#moistcore = gratifying wetness

#ah yes. the gnarled branch rough and twisted beckons you to dream = gnarled branches

#hills to roll down = rolldownable hills

#frühling = spring 🌷

#sommer = summer 🌞

#herbst = fall 🍁

#winter = ☃️

#i want snow = snow and ice ❄️

#strawbebbies my beloved = 🍓

#me i pet him wethands style = soft animals; mostly dogs

#our michael = old photos of cats 🐈

#ough dr puderzucker = corgis 🐶

#pasum = possum pics 🐾

#horse girl tag = irl hoarsies and rdr2 🐎

vibes:

#god i wish that were me = stuff i wish i could be

#i think that would fix me = things that would fix me

#lovecore = 💕🥰

#slutcore = self-explanatory 🖤

#snorkmimicore = oh so eepy 🥱

#on all levels except physical i am a smoker = smokers being hot and cool 🚬

#BANABA = 🍌

#ough = ough

#ough ough <3 = things that sometimes make me go ough ough <3

#100% ough ough <3 = things that always make me go ough ough <3

#wholesome = wholesome things 💖

places:

#i miss london = london 🇬🇧

#ough pawwis = paris 🇫🇷

#vedi napoli e poi muori & #italianpoasting = italy 🇮🇹

#island = iceland 🇮🇸 (and the faroe islands 🇫🇴)

#americana = norf america 🇨🇦🇺🇸🇲🇽

#fucking switzerland = 🇨🇭

#trains = trains 🚂

media:

#to watch = stuff i wanna watch 📺

#to read = book recs and articles 📚

#read later = reblogged without reading

#the lonely city my beloved = fantastic book

#penis wakt = twin peaks

#vincent van gogh = 🎨

#florence + the machine = fatm stuff

#music = songs

i also use a few common trigger and content warnings, but i'm the most consistent with things related to EDs, dieting, weight loss, and fatphobia

format: "[thing]" or "[thing] tw"/ "[thing] cw"

backups:

bluesky🦋

#ill try to keep this updated #not a complete list #obvi #mostly made this for myself #but feel free to block/filter whatever you need #& #tag guide

[thorraborinn]

Do you have any info on the Ginfaxi symbol? Seen a heathen who had it tattooed on their throat and immediately had alarms go off in my head.

I'll post what I know about Ginfaxi, but it won't tell you anything more about the person you saw than you already know. I like thinking and writing about this stuff so I wrote a lot but, yeah, none of this is really going to narrow anything down for you. I'm trying to put the rest behind a break but Tumblr doesn't like breaks anymore, and keeps moving this one around, so we'll see what happens.

I assume that what you mean by "ginfaxi" is this:

This isn't the only symbol that gets called that (more on that below) but it is the most common, and it's what comes up when you Google it. I don't really know anything about how modern people are using ginfaxi but here are some off-the-cuff thoughts:

it's probably on its way into popularity because Ægishjálmur and Vegvísir are too well-known to be mysterious and cool anymore

while less common than those, it's been commercialized for just as long. You, anon, probably know this already, because you probably googled it before asking me, and turned up all the same tchotchke shit that every other "Ancient Viking Magic" symbol is slapped onto. That has more determination over how people relate to it than any 18th/19th century black book does.

there's higher-than-average risk of it being made into a symbol of "Viking warriors" or similar because of its actual historical association with glíma even though conceptually it's closer to staves for winning at chess (which do also exist) than it is to actual combat

yeah I do think it has potential to be a "swastika with plausible deniability" but I honestly don't know if people are doing that and if anything its touristification might be the thing that prevents it

it occurs to me that TikTok is probably a serious vector for how people are experiencing this stuff, and it's something I know absolutely nothing about other than that people like to put runes and stuff on their faces. So I dunno, that could be an influence here.

When you're trying to figure out what it means when you see a galdrastafur on someone, it doesn't necessarily do you any good to learn about its background and history if the person who got it inked didn't bother to research that themselves, and I'm disinclined to believe that someone who got a vaguely swastika-like symbol on their throat did that. I have no idea if the symbol has any more frequency among racists than it does among sorta "general population" heathen/viking-interested people who relate to the past basically through the lens of the tourist gift shop, who would have been getting "Celtic" symbols if it were still the 90's, which seems to be the majority of people involved with this stuff at all. A radically different group of people also comes to mind: in my experience in east coast US, some crusty gutter punk types also use symbols like Icelandic galdrastafir and runes, and they're also more likely to get a tattoo on their throat or face or whatever than the average viking enthusiast. I know a guy who used to put runes and stuff on his panhandling signs and claimed they did get him more cash, and whether it was magic or just drawing attention or what didn't really matter to him.

Anyway, the point is, I think that tattoo was a bad idea, makes someone look like a nazi, and you should side-eye them until you know better, but for better or worse there are other possible explanations for how that symbol got there. I'm not making excuses for anyone, just stating the blunt fact that there are non-nazis who attracted to this symbol and decorate itself with it without even thinking about any of this.

It shows up in that annoying graphic of "Norse" symbols with no context that occasionally makes the rounds (that manages not to include a single symbol from the actual Viking age), with an incorrect or at least misleading description:

And as much as this sucks that is probably the main way that people experience symbolism that is related (whether in a historical or a recently-contrived way) to "the Norse."

The version of the symbol I've been talking about is the most well-known because it comes from Íslenzkar þjóðsögur og æfintýri by Jón Árnason, the most important folklore and fairy tale collection from Iceland. I'm not sure where he got that particular image. When he was writing in the mid-19th century, he said that ginfaxi and gapaldur (which often accompanies ginfaxi) were among the most widespread symbols with the most variety of uses, and even mentions them before ægishjálmur. Ginfaxi was probably always used in glíma, and since that's the context it appears in in magic books while other uses seem not to have been recorded, the association with glíma became stronger over time. It was to be written on a piece of paper or wood-chip and put in the toe of the left show, while gapaldur was supposed to be under the heel in the right shoe (there is some variation in the procedure). According to Grunnavíkur-Jón Ólafsson (via Jón Árna) the two symbols together were also used for spookier things like going into hills (i.e. like huldufólk do, I guess, there's no additional context) and repel sendingar (sort of like ghosts raised by hostile wizards to harm someone) but I don't know where Grunnavíkur-Jón wrote about that or anything else about this. Here is a variant gapaldur from Jón Árnason:

According to Jón Árnason (link in Icelandic), it was rumored that the two staves were composed by hiding the names of different æsir in them. To me, that implies either a method of encoding that is totally opaque to me, or that belief pertained to an entirely different set of visual symbols (either of these are highly plausible). It seems the names ginfaxi and gapaldur (or gapandi) were better-known than the actual visual symbols themselves, and there are many variants that look hardly anything like the one in Jón Arna (this is not surprising -- there are also many symbols called ægishjálmur other than the one we all know). Probably many more people suspected others of having used symbols like these to gain advantage over them, than actually used symbols themselves, so that the idea of ginfaxi would precede anyone knowing how to actually draw it, and perhaps there never really was an original or fixed shape.

Jónas Jónasson (another folklore collector) identified this one from Lbs 977 4to as another ginfaxi although I don't know how he knows it's that and not gapaldur:

This one comes with a formula to recite that invokes Óðinn and Frigg and is specifically about winning at glíma.

These two are from the Galdrasýning á Ströndum website (only on the Icelandic version of the page for some reason), not sure where they got them either. With these you're supposed to carve them on a piece of turf when the moon is waxing and drop some of your own blood into them, then put them in your shoes and recite a verse.

I think it's worth showing what glíma is. True, when an Old Icelandic text refers to people doing an action that is uses the verb glíma to describe, it's talking about actual fighting, but this is the stuff that the glímugaldrar ('glíma-magic') that we have is about:

#ask #anon #galdrastafir #ginfaxi

[lowlyroach]

580) STARLIGHT

I dared the world

But you answered

And I talked to you

Wow

I'm thumping again

Ain't that stupid?

I'm so giddy with excitement

You make me so happy

Ain't that stupid, though?

You tell me you hate me

And I know I'm ugly

I should get therapy

But you see me thumping?

I'm overcome with joy

But I hate you too, stupid!!!

Talk to me!!!

I was just addicted to self improvement

I don't think it would have changed anything

I know I'm a hypocrite

I'm sorry for being a ghost, too

But I was really trying to talk to you!!!

Sorry I was drinking, again

I know it's my fault

But I'm so thumping

My cat bites my toes I'm wiggling them

So much

But I'm so happy

Wow

Wow

Future Jacob can

Sit in the silence

I'm so brimming right now

Ain't it stupid?

I am.

But I wake up with the room still spinning

I know I'm not better than mom

Picking me up from elementary school

But

I take some aderral

And if you saw the smile on my face

I'm brimming

I'm brimming

I'm brimming

Today, I'm brimming again

Sorry it had to be you

To make me glow

I know you can't anymore

But happy birthday!!!!

I'm so glad you exist

Let me buy you round trip tickets to Iceland

Take whoever you want

Today maybe I'll be alright

I'm glowing

Guys, please, I'm glowing!!!!!!!!!

Starlight exists today!

I know the silence will hit

Like a semi truck

Over a deer

In the headlights

I know I'm the deer

And the semi running myself over

But right now I can bask in the glow again

Before I take acid

To feel something good

I'm really so glowing

Sorry I'm still a bit spinning

I'll make some coffee

The cop didn't even pull me over this time

I bet he knew

I was so happy

I was a solar flare in a Ford suv

He was probably afraid of me

I'm so bright

I'm so bright right now

I'm grateful to the world and smiling

Ain't it so ugly?

Ain't it so pretty?

She really talked to me?

She really thinks I'm pretty?

How can she make me so happy?

Why do I need her to glow?

It doesn't matter

Cuz I'm fucking glowing

God damn it

I'm fucking glowing right now

I'm so bright I could die

I don't give a fuck I'm invincible

For at least a little bit

Aren't I so pathetic?

When is the floor going to collapse again

I really don't want to wait to talk to you again

Till Christmas, stupid

Do you know how brimming I am?

I could slaughter God and Heaven and every angel without a scratch

Maybe I will

I hope she's so happy today

#poem #poetry #writing #spilled ink #twcpoetry #poeticstories #THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU I WANT TO KISS THE UNIVERSE TODAY THERE IS A MOMENTARY LIGHT AND I WILL SWALLOW IT #WHEN THE DARK COMES AGAIN IT WILL COME SWINGING BUT AT LEAST RIGHT NOW IM FUCKING GLOWING #WHY AM I LIKE THIS??? #FUCKING THANK YOU FOR TALKING TO ME AND EXISTING #THANK YOU TO EVERYONE #RIGHT NOW ALL OF YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL SO REMEMBER THAT BEFORE IM STUCK IN THE DARK AGAIN #IS THIS SELF AWARENESS BAD OR GOOD? #i know youre still reading these but #you shouldnt be!!!! but i love you #hey. i love you i love you i love you

[bornatnightt]

PROMPT 004 ! way of night

Brody Dougal met Nyx in Norway… and he believed she was a fever dream for months. In his place, Jesse might have believed the same.

OLYMPUS

Even before this, even before being forced into standing in front of the gods and asking for their attention Jay had tried commune with his mother. How does one talk with the night? Cold and silent as ever, marble distance as real as it had ever been. And now here he is, face to face again, questions burning into his mind, frustration welling up and memories flooding, surging. Dark, cold, night...

NORWAY

Fingers grasping, cold sweat dripping down his face, whimpers of a child in a nightmare. Shadows chasing, running, footsteps in the snow. His father's voice, grave and serious, questioning. Screams.

Jesse was afraid of the dark.

It was always dark.

SCOTLAND

Where did you meet her? He asked, away from the prying ears and the cold eyes of his stepmother. His father's glasses heavy on his nose, dust collected on the lenses, wiped away on his shirt as he frowned. Norway. He said, she saved me.

Why did she never come for me? Why doesn't she save me?

He never got an answer.

OLYMPUS

Quiet as ever, mysterious and obscure. Is he like her at all? Or are the monstrous siblings of myth more to her image? The nightmares, the demons, madness, the Keres... Does she care at all?

I am here, mother. He tells her.

He should kneel, it is proper to, isn't it? Gods would expect that. They expect a lot from their children, he's learning.

He doesn't kneel.

At night, in the lake. By the woods. In his cabin. The night is alive, it whispers, it calls to him, just like it used to.

Is that you, mother? Are you calling me?

He doesn't get an answer. Does he ever? Will he ever?

Don't suppose you'd be the talkative type. Don't know who I got my charm from.

Joking is easy, almost as easy as walking away would be. He looks around, shakes his head. He must be insane, talking to a goddess who doesn't seem to listen. Finally just as insane as everyone else, huh Jesse? He sits down in the ground.

I am here, mother. He says again, mind drifting to the cold waters of the lake, to the clear skies, the the purest nights in Olympus. To Iceland.

ICELAND

he's scared of the dark. Brody whispers behind the walls of their bedroom, he's just a wee yin.

His father met his new wife in Iceland. The heir to the company he worked so intently for. She never liked the kid he brought into the marriage.

Jesse Dougal was afraid of the dark. There were voices there. Faces.

They called to him.

He was so scared of them. He kept the lights on. He watched the shadows as they grew quietly and hid under the covers. Waiting, waiting, always waiting for something. Always afraid.

Where did that boy go? When did he stop fearing shadows?

When did he start chasing the dark?

SCOTLAND

The night was young, and the night was filled with drinks and laughter and smiles. His smile. The night was comforting, the night was starry. The dark was home.

The day was headaches and an upset stomach, it was black coffee, it was bright classrooms in Oxford, it was fake smiles and dishonesty. It was expensive perfume hiding the stench underneath. The morning was for oversleeping and regret, it was too bright, too loud, too much. He was a creature of night, and there was nothing more liberating than admitting that.

That first night, that first kiss in the dark. The brush of an unkempt beard, the gasp of surprise turned pleasure, the growing want and need for more. Were there ever monsters in the dark or was he just told so?

When did it start? When did he learn?

ICELAND

Scandal. Money. Sharp smiles and sharper claws. Her perfume was like poison, her sharp features like knives. He was an unfortunate wrinkle in her carefully laid out existence. He felt sorry once, not anymore.

His disdain for wealth had a strong start. The balls, the charities, the arm around him. My stepson! Never a nuisance in public but not be seen in any of the countless rooms of her estate.

Why did you marry her? Why didn't you stay with mom? He would ask.

you don't understand, J. Jay never did understand. It was never explained either.

ENGLAND

Oxford was hell, it was pressure and expectation. It was limitless egos and generational wealth that left his stomach in knots. She would fit right in. At least he used none of her money for it, even if he'd need to sell his soul to pay it all someday.

He hated it there, hated the classes, the professors, the students. Hated the smiles and snickers, the polite dressing downs, the coldness. There were so very few bright moments, so very few silver linings.

He met him at the pub, in the dark. The smile, the accent, the skin glowing in the moonlight at midnight. He kissed like he needed it to live. He made Jay feel he needed him to live.

So of course, he screwed that up.

OLYMPUS

Focus. He tells himself, breathe. In, out. Don't think of him.

Think of the dark, think of your mother. What would the night want?

SCOTLAND

He was alone, cut ties after Oxford, after the secrets were out of the dark and she could no longer turn a blind eye. It was worth it. There were pictures of him out there somewhere, arm around the man he loved at some stuffy company event. His father hadn't said a word.

Scotland was home. He decided. Edinburgh were he was meant to be, its dark never more comforting. They were happy... right?

He was at peace, for once.

If he had listened in, he might have been able to hear the voices...

in

the

dark

.

.

.

NORWAY

Voices, sounds far away, the snapping of branches, snow falling. Sweat, dripping down his skin. Breathe loud in his ears, heart racing in his little chest. Eyes, snapping open.

A gasp.

The woods... why was he in the woods? How had he fallen out of bed and into his nightmare?

Tears, running scared. The dark, so dark. He fell, scrapped knees and sobs, the voices silent. Too silent. Where had they gone.

His father had been lost once, hadn't he? He had said so, had said his mother saved him. Was she going to save Jesse too? Was she going to be there, finally, at last! Had she come for him?

Mom! mom! I'm here.

He waited, peering at the dark, between the trees, moonlight barely iluminating the clearing around him. There he stood, listening in but no one came. No one to help, not even the voices that scared him so much. Everything was quiet for a second.

The tears came back. Sobs as he crawled, almost blindly through the forest ground. Guided only by instinct, leaving footsteps in frozen ground. Face turning, snow wetting him through his clothes. Fear and cold, gripping at him, squeezing him from within. Was he going to die here?

He only felt the pain when he raised his hand, blood falling down onto the white snow, painting ground and skin and cloth red, distracting him even from the light approaching.

In the ground, pointed edge stuck out from the snow, with red blood seeping down its jagged surface was a dark stone, drawing in his eyes. He reached for it as screams of his name reached his ear.

He's here!... he's here.

SCOTLAND

The stone was gone. Lost somewhere between Iceland and England, or England and Scotland, or even somewhere back where it was from in Norway. He wished he didn't care. He wished it meant nothing. (It did mean nothing! What did a stone he found stumbling and crying through the woods could mean? he was lucky he didn't get an infection). He felt its loss like it meant much more though.

Except it wasn't lost. Had never been lost. Taken, protected, in a box. Still the same as he found it, then... lapidaded. Sharpened even further, fashioned anew, dark like the night they met, safe like his arms wrapping around Jesse.

"a ring and church wedding isn't really your style is it? but this might just be."

Worn around his neck, displayed proudly yet secret. Home, carried everywhere. A promise of forever (they couldn't keep).

He left that warm bed, the dark lit room with the safe arms and the heavenly kisses, the comfort and warmth, safety and belonging for the first time.

He left their pub, he claimed the city and made do with the broken pieces of them both. Aimless, lost in the place he once found home.

He kept the necklace though. He remembered the promise. He chased the night. Kept chasing that night like he chased a high. One day it would stop, one way or the other it would stop. (But he kept it anyway. Jesse Dougal never parted with that stone again.)

OLYMPUS

Hanging from his neck, the dark stone he carried, meaningless and full of meaning, a mystery, a promise, his one and only heartbreak. The one he found stumbling out of a dream or nightmare, sleepwalking into the dark; scarred but no longer afraid. Scar on his hand where it had pierced him never fully gone. (The other scars he could hide).

That stone, turned into necklace and oath, had followed him from Norway to Iceland, from England to home in Scotland, from there to everywhere in the world. To Olympus.

Glinting with the light of flames, reflecting the stars that hung in the dark sky above, black and lightless above all else as it lay in his chest in bed in the cabin of Nyx.

Is that what you want? he asks.

was it you?

were you there?

were you ever there.

say somehting. say something....

please.

is what he wants to say instead, but he doesn't. he can't.

i don't expect an answer. a half truth. not anymore. a decision. but one would be nice anyway. bargaining?

He has nothing else to give. To say. Leaves his mother the only true offering he can make. The only one that matters.

Jesse Dougal doesn't look back when he leaves the temple, but he wants to. Gods he wants to. Questions burn his mind.

Had she saved him too? Would she, if he ever needed it again?

For that, he didn't have an answer either.

#godlingprompt004 #born at night (dev)

[espys-art-stuff]

It has occurred to me that I should probably... publish more of the random, insane things that go through my head rather than keep them locked up in my private digital notebooks forever. So with that said, please have this thing nobody asked for,

PREPARE

FOR MY GREAT EUROSLANDER POST

(disclaimer obvious satire piece is satire)

Directory of Europe (as written by an ignorant US tourist)

BRITISH ISLES, aka the only places we care about (wait they're islands?? I thou--)

England: Harry Potter Land and so London, very Posh, quite barmy out innit, god save the queen King, I want to hop into a queue and buy some fish and chips and good english tea, *waves the union jack aggressively*

(i feel so bri’ish!!1!11 did i do the accent right [is speaking cockney])

Ireland: EIRISH ((does several bad (scottish)ireland imitations)) and so beer and drienk, my grendfather was born ‘ere so I understind everythin’ aboot this playce

N. Ireland: I understand nothing about this place

Scotland: Aye Laddie, kilts and bagpipes and castles and ACCENTS (we're so scottish)

(wait you guys sound irish--)

Wales: tbh we didn't know you existed until we looked up the funny nonsense words

what do you mean there are native languages spoken in ENGland that aren’t english

THE SOUTH (Boonies)

Spain: Mexico 2.0

wtf do you mean it's more similar to california, california speaks Only English, a spanish-speaking country could never be as advanced

Italy: PIZZA (and old people) (and fascists), florida if floridians ate proper food

Greece: boring ruins and so poor, none of this was ever significant

Portugal: tbh we thought you were a territory of Brazil

Turkey: Earthquakes and Muslims (terrorists) (barbarians) (Iran begins here)

THE EAST (Mordor)

Hungary: We know nothing about it except that it's led by that one guy all our Conservatives really like for some reason, but hey he's White and European and Will Smith did a dance video in Budapest so they’re probably fine, also LOL they must be Hungry

Russia: Very Bad And Mean, We Boycott You For 1000 Years :( (but actually we still buy all your stuff and want your tourist traps and money)

Ukraine: *waves flags* (we did not care about you before but you're White and European and frankly Russia just isn't playing to our interests anymore, so we'll back your war while we look the other way on all the ones in those Non-White Countries)

Poland and like 70 other countries: Witcher 3 and commies

THE WEST (Civilised Countries)

Germany: yeah sorry like 85% of us still think you’re nazis, you're sort of just screwed on that front

France: PARIS and EIFFEL TOWER and ROMANCE (and also rude people)

Belgium+Luxembourg+Switzerland: Alps and croissants and swiss cheese and yodelling (and also rude people)

The Netherlands: 67,342 people skipped over this country because "the netherlands" sounds like the sticks

(we later figured out you were the dutch and we apologized that you have to live out in the sticks)

Austria: The Sound of Music

THE NORDICS (Socialist Paradise/Hell, speaks Weird Shit)

Denmark: we thought it was in America (the Actual America, not the rest of it) like all other good companies are tbh, but LEGOS

(you mean nothing to us otherwise)

Sweden: The ones who will take us, but too liberal and socialist high taxes and immigrant for our tastes (ALL (nonwhite) immigrants are illegal) (enlightened Conservatives STAY OUT)

Finland: The forgotten edge of the world, everyone here lives with eskimos and polar bears

Iceland: Hawaii vacation but Cold and Exotic

Norway: So rich and socialist, but they're White and European and sell oil so we can't knock it tbh

Greenland: the USA definitely claims this. we just haven't taken it back yet because there are absolutely no colonies living on this useless rock

(however once we begin shipping all the illegal immigrants out like how our lord and saviour Ron Desanctimonious has shown us, we will require it once again)

tune in next time for my post where I do all 50 states of the USA and destroy half the world as a result

#euroslander #worldslander #satire #shower thoughts #the weird shit that hangs around in my head until I have to post it

[survey--s]

321.

what is your favorite kind of ice cream? Our local ice-cream parlour does some great flavours - tiramisu, blueberry and panacotta, Jaffa Cakes and peanut butter. if people could read your mind, what would they usually find? A load of jumbled nonsense. who do you talk to on the phone most often? I only really talk to my mum on the phone. what's a song that makes you feel happy? Summertime by Bon Jovi. what celebrity would you like to meet? Johnny Depp.

what's the best concert you've ever been to? Plain White T’s were really good live. They had good support groups too. what is your favorite clothing store? Fat Face. how did you meet your best friend? We met via online dating. do you need money to be happy? I mean, money doesn’t equal happiness, but I’d much rather have food and shelter than not. what is something you do well? Tidy and organise things. what's a good idea you've had recently? To take Fridays off over the summer. It’s been lovely to have some three-day weekends for a change. what is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast? Pancakes with bacon and maple syrup, smashed avocado on sourdough toast, a proper Full English or fresh croissants. how far in advance do you prefer to plan? With work, I like knowing my week by Sunday night, but for personal stuff I generally plan quite last minute as I never know how I’ll feel in advance. do you like to wear high heels? Nope. how many slices of pizza do you usually eat? I happily eat an entire pizza, lol. But pizzas here aren’t served as slices - you just order a whole one and the expectation is you eat the lot. Can you remember life without technology? what was it like? I mean, there’s always been technology, but it was pretty basic when I was young. I didn’t know any different so it was fine, but I’m glad it exists now.

what gift would you like to receive? Money is always good. what's the last thing you paid for? Toiletries. what's the last movie you watched? Gosford Park. do you remember your dreams? When I first wake up, but not really later on in the day. do you play any instruments? Not anymore. I can play some, though. do you always smile for pictures? No. what are you most excited about right now? Having a long weekend and then having two weeks off at the end of August. if you had $5 in your pocket what yould you spend it on? I have no idea, I have nothing I need to buy right now. how often do you buy things via the internet? Maybe 2-3 times a week. would you like to live in a different country? if so which one? Yeah, Canada or Australia. what animal would you see first if you went to the zoo? Penguins or tigers. if you could switch places with someone for a day, who would it be? Someone with a beach house and a swimming pool, please. do you prefer the aisle, middle, or window seat on a plane? Window or aisle. what's your favorite song from a movie? I have no idea, there are loads of amazing soundtracks out there. Lately, We are Not Alone by Karla DeVito. where would you like to volunteer? I don’t really like the idea of volunteering as I think people should be paid for the work they do, but maybe an animal sanctuary or something. would you rather go out for dinner or cook at home? Have a takeaway or go out. who sent the last text message you received? Jane, a client of mine re-arranging a visit as her cat needed to go to the vets. what's your favorite flower? Lilys. what's the last song you listened to? I don’t remember, whatever was playing in the car on my way home from work. do you like being alone? Yep, I need my alone time to function lol. what was the last thing you ate? Bacon flavoured crisps. how do you find new music? Spotify and YouTube, also the radio occasionally. what is your dream travel destination? Iceland, New Zealand, Japan. if you could play any instrument what would it be? I have no idea. what's the last youtube video you watched? An episode of some policing programme. where are you going on your next trip? We’re going to Broughton for a dog walk and lunch on Friday, if that counts? what are you currently addicted to? Without a Trace.

#survey #surveys

[mass-piplup-outbreak]

End of the Line - Chapter 7

[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3! if you like this fic, please consider reblogging!

Chapter 7: Trainwreck This is not a linear track.

Ingo has never seen Emmet like this before. This much he can say with certainty.

His brother holds the journal that Shauntal bought for him mere inches from his face. He’s torn off the glove on his right hand to trace the letters with his pointer finger, as though they’re some illusion that can be dispelled by touch alone. In particular, he focuses on that final letter “I”, as smudged and smeared as it is. Emmet is neither smiling nor frowning. His face is simply locked in an expression Ingo can only describe as neutral.

For the millionth time, Ingo wishes he could reach out and tell his brother that everything is going to be okay. Any memories behind such a response are lost to him, but his first instinct is still to take care of Emmet. Even as he clings to Chandelure, shaking like he was the day the Pearl Clan found him in the Alabaster Icelands.

“He seems tired right now,” Shauntal states, her eyes locked on Ingo as he leans against Chandelure for support. Emmet instinctively follows her gaze, but Ingo can tell he’s still just an empty spot to his brother. “Give him some time to recover, and he’ll be able to return to answering your questions.”

Subconsciously, Ingo shifts himself behind Chandelure, his Pokémon gently whispering as he clings onto the frayed threads of his existence. He isn’t used to being scrutinized like this, not after so much time spent as nothing more than an empty space to his dearest friends. The fact that his nerves are currently whirring around like a runaway train doesn’t help, either.

“Sorry,” Shauntal averts her eyes, perhaps sensing his discomfort. She turns to Emmet, pressing the pen into the palm of his hand. “You should keep this. I get the impression that you’ll need it much more than I do.”

Emmet looks between her and the pen, the slightest bit uncertain, before finally nodding and sticking it into his jacket pocket.

Shauntal glances between the two of them, uncertainty clear in her awkward grimace. She lifts herself from the ground and smooths out the wrinkles in her shirt and pants. “I should get going,” she explains. “You both probably need some time to yourselves.”

Both. The togetherness there is an interesting concept. Ingo and Emmet are linked, at least in Shauntal’s eyes. That seems… right. Like some piece of what once was has finally returned.

Emmet doesn’t react to her, so with a frown on her face, Shauntal places a hand on his shoulder. “Make sure he takes breaks,” she suggests. “Using up too much energy at once certainly doesn’t seem to be good for him.”

What would happen to him if he did use up all of his energy like this? For centuries, Ingo has been stuck between the world of the living and the concrete end of an actual death. He’s spent ages wishing to find himself on one side or the other, whether it be a life with breathing lungs and a beating heart or pure nothingness for eternity. The latter was especially appealing at times.

But Emmet finding him again has changed something. Ingo doesn’t care anymore where he ends up, because he knows he’s already where he’s supposed to be. The only thing that matters anymore is being by his brother’s side, no matter what.

Shauntal pauses at the doorway, resting a hand on the frame as she peeks back into the office. Emmet hasn’t moved an inch, staring at the far wall and clutching the journal like it’s the most important thing in the world. It may as well be.

“Don’t push yourself too hard, alright?” Shauntal asks.

Ingo wonders which one of them she’s talking to.

The door clicks closed behind her, and finally, Emmet drops the facade. His shoulders drop, and he hisses out a bitter sob from between his gritted teeth. Eelektross immediately jumps out of its Poké Ball, wrapping its long body around its trainer.

“Fuck,” Emmet mutters quietly. He wipes his tears away with his jacket sleeve, which is not the most absorbent material, if Ingo recalls correctly. He would let Emmet cry into his shoulder, if he could.

Chandelure silently extends one of its spindly arms, and Ingo allows it to support him as he stands. It’s not the weight on his legs that causes him to stumble. Truthfully, he hasn’t felt any strain on his legs for a very long time. But suddenly being lifted to his feet causes all that energy to swirl inside him once again, sloshing from his head to his toes like a water bottle.

Chandelure, his dear, sweet, loyal Chandelure, is quick to respond, looping its arms under Ingo’s own and hoisting him up. He would carry Lady Sneasler’s kits like this when they were just beginning to learn how to play, wryly and fiendish little things that they were. Maybe he used to hold Chandelure in a similar way.

“Thank you.” He looks up at Chandelure, the top of his hat thumping against its glass carapace. Its only response is to squeeze him closer to itself.

Chandelure drifts over to Emmet and Eelektross. Ingo doesn’t miss the spiteful glare that his brother’s ace shoots their way, its malice mostly directed at the clearly visible Chandelure. He supposes he can’t blame such a loyal Pokémon for feeling a bit of resentment towards this situation.

Quietly, Chandelure whispers to its companion. The two of them have known each other for a long time, haven’t they? Eelektross grumbles and growls in response, tightening itself around Emmet’s shoulders.

Ingo can only guess what the Electric Type said, because Chandelure’s flames suddenly flare up as it harshly spits back what must be an insult. Eelektross rears back, hissing and bearing its teeth, but before it can lunge, Emmet grabs it by the headfin and gently guides it down into his lap.

“Stop it,” he commands, holding Eelektross in place. “We don’t- You shouldn’t-” With his words failing him, Emmet starts crying again.

No, no, no, no! The pit in Ingo’s stomach grows even larger, pure dread coursing through him. He made Emmet cry! He’s not supposed to do that!

“I didn’t mean it!” Ingo shouts, kneeling next to his brother in the damp grass. Their rubber ball lies abandoned just a few feet away. “I thought you were looking!”

“Ow!” Emmet flinches when Ingo touches his reddened cheek. “Stop! That hurt!”

“I’m sorry!”

Ingo reaches for his brother’s arm, all thoughts of his intangibility completely gone. “Emmet, I’m-”

Emmet abruptly stands, still holding Eelektross close to his chest. Ingo recoils, and Chandelure instinctively pulls him up just a bit higher. Right. Right, of course.

“We should go home,” Emmet states. He releases his grip on Eelektross, and the two of them walk out of the office together. Unsurprisingly, Chandelure hesitates.

“I think we’re in trouble, Chandelure,” Ingo says. Its flames droop in response, and it fearfully whimpers something that he can’t understand.

“Excuse me.” Emmet stops at the door, peering back at the pair out of the corner of his eye. “We should all go home.”

Perhaps unwilling to incur more of Emmet’s wrath today, Chandelure wastes no time in tailing him, dragging Ingo along like a child carrying their favorite Pokémon plush.

As they leave Gear Station, the starry sky obscured by the bright lights of Nimbasa, Ingo can only hope that he hasn’t royally fucked up.

‥

When he gets back to their apartment, Emmet unceremoniously drops his jacket along with all of his Poké Balls on the floor. He takes a deep breath and loudly proclaims, “What the fuck!”

Chandelure whispers something just quiet enough that he can barely hear it, but that’s exactly the problem. A sudden burst of rage erupts in Emmet’s chest, a burning and scorching flame. Did they think this was funny? Just a cruel prank to play on poor little Emmet? How dare they? How dare they both do this to him?!

“You two.” Emmet whips around, pointing his left hand straight at Chandelure. Eelektross follows his example, glaring. “I am disappointed in you both.”

If Chandelure looks absolutely terrified, freezing in place under his glare and reducing its flames to mere smoke, then Emmet can only imagine how Ingo looks right now.

“Chandelure, you have been keeping a secret,” Emmet accuses the Pokémon, gritting his teeth together into the closest approximation of a smile he can muster as of right now. “I do not like it! Not at all!”

Emmet doesn’t give Ingo even a second to hope that he’s in the clear. “And Ingo. I can’t even tell where you’re standing!” Chandelure helpfully gestures to the empty space to their side, and so he adjusts where he’s looking. “You come back, once everything is starting to be fine again. What is wrong with you?!”

Emmet regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. What’s wrong with Ingo? No, the better question is clearly what’s wrong with him. Didn’t he want this? Isn’t this what he’s been wishing for every night for six years? Against all odds, despite everything saying this would never happen, Ingo is here. Why isn’t he happy?

With tears welling up in his eyes again, Emmet sighs. This train ride was supposed to be over and done with! He got what answers he could, and he put the ones he couldn’t to rest. Or at least, he thought he did.

“I feel like…” Emmet bites his tongue. How exactly does he feel? Everything inside him is crashing together right now, all smoky and hazy and scorched. Ingo was always the one with the words, that’s how Emmet remembers him being. He was never as good as his brother was.

Right now, though, the tracks between Ingo and good that exist in his mind seem to be more worn than they used to be.

“I feel like I don’t know who you are.”

Chandelure tilts its head to the side, listening to words Emmet isn’t privy to. After a moment, it drifts over and begins shuffling through Emmet’s discarded jacket, minding its flames. Eventually, it uses Psychic to pull out the pen and the journal.

“Are you sure?” Emmet asks as Chandelure passes the items to him. “You won’t… get hurt?”

Chandelure nods, and Emmet assumes that it’s speaking for his brother. “Fine then,” he says. He sits on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, like he and Ingo used to when they were going over the station’s budget at home. Eelektross once again wraps itself around his torso, the majority of its body settled in his lap. He opens the journal and rests it on the surface in front of him, leaving the pen at its side.

For a second, nothing happens. Emmet wonders if today has been a strange dream, brought on by stress and coffee. Maybe everything that happened was just in his imagination, or maybe he’s going to wake up in his bed any second now. Swords, he can’t wait to forget about this one.

Emmet suddenly feels a chill on his left side. Just as it did an hour ago, the pen lifts into the air seemingly on its own. That’s going to take some getting used to.

Ask.

Funnily enough, Emmet doesn’t even know where to begin.

“You…” Emmet starts, trying to find his words. “You said you have been a passenger for a month. Where did we pick you up?”

Graveyard, Ingo replies, but Emmet could have guessed as much.

“Alright,” Emmet says, even though nothing about this situation is alright in the slightest. “How are you… feeling?”

Emmet can practically see Ingo’s hesitation, the way the pen pauses in midair.

Fine.

Even though he physically can’t see Ingo, Emmet knows a bluff when he sees one. ‘Fine’ is a very neutral descriptor, especially when someone comes back from the dead just to follow you around for weeks.

“What is the point of this?” Emmet asks. “Why are you here, Ingo?”

It’s as if Ingo chooses the worst possible response, the one answer that could completely shatter whatever’s left of Emmet’s defenses.

I missed you.

Once again, Emmet’s eyes grow misty. “Don’t- don’t say that.” He sniffs, wiping away his tears before they have a chance to fall.

Chandelure nuzzles into Emmet’s side, at the same time as Eelektross purrs into his chest. He’s struck by the thought that it’s never been the most affectionate Pokémon to him. In fact, it’s always kept its distance from him, especially after Ingo disappeared. His brother was always another story; Chandelure would do anything for him.

Did Ingo… ask his ace to do this?

“I don’t understand,” Emmet states, staring at the words on the page. “Shouldn’t you be in the afterlife? Are you stuck here? Should I call an exorcist?”

The pen moves faster than Emmet’s seen it move so far, like someone lit a fire in Ingo’s engine. No no no no no no no

“Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself again!” Emmet grabs the end of the pen, and for a second, he’s thrown off by the fact that he can feel Ingo pulling at the other end.

The tugging suddenly stops. Emmet can’t tell if Ingo has actually let go or if he’s just sitting very still. Either way, it gently floats from his admittedly weak grasp. Chandelure skirts around Emmet, huddling closer to that empty space where he assumes his brother is sitting.

Don’t want to leave again.

“I won’t make you,” Emmet assures him, looking away in shame. “Sorry.”

He’s fucking this up, there’s no denying that. Ingo must think that Emmet hates him, and he wouldn’t be wrong for assuming so. This isn’t how you’re supposed to act when a loved one returns home after being gone for so long. He should be cheering, screaming, crying tears of joy!

Instead, he’s just… frustrated.

“I know I don’t seem happy,” Emmet states, hands gripping the fabric of his pants. “I am. But I’m also confused. You disappeared, lived the rest of your life somewhere else without trying to come back, and then you died.” He huffs out a breath of air. “It’s like you forgot about me.”

He watches the pen yet again, careful yet shaky movements. Ingo must be getting tired again, just like he did back at Gear Station. It might be for the best to wrap up their little session soon.

I didn’t mean to.

Emmet’s heart drops, and all of his blood turns to ice. He keeps staring at the message, as if the writing could change at any second. It can’t be, can it? There’s no way that Ingo means what he thinks he does.

“You didn’t mean to,” he repeats. “You didn’t mean to… forget? You actually forgot?”

The pen suddenly falls, clattering against the top of the coffee table. Chandelure whispers something, a tone similar to how Ingo used to coo over his Axew. Though the only response Emmet receives is silence, he can’t think of any other meaning behind Ingo’s words.

Of course Ingo never tried to go back home. He didn’t even know where to start. How can you return to a place that you don’t remember?

How much of their life did Ingo forget? How much does he remember now? If he forgot his twin brother, the one person who’s been with him for everything, then what else could have survived? Does he even know why he followed Emmet back from Sinnoh, or was it just some half-buried habit?

“I’m sorry,” Emmet squeezes his eyes shut, as if everything will go away if he can’t see it. “I didn’t know! I’m sorry, Ingo!”

‥

With Ingo unable to continue answering questions, Emmet reluctantly decided it was for the best to call it a night. He doesn’t get much sleep, tossing and turning as if he could shake the thoughts from his racing mind.

Ingo forgot him. Emmet made everything worse.

After a long night of staring at the ceiling, the first rays of sunlight finally begin to filter in through his window. Emmet wants to shut the blinds, maybe call in sick for work today. It’s only his second day back, right? Who cares about being consistent?

When his alarm goes off, 6 AM sharp, Emmet immediately slams his hand on the button. With a groan, he pushes a few stray hairs out of his face. He might as well get up now, if only for the fact that he doesn’t think he can handle another minute of trying to fall asleep.

As soon as he opens the door, Emmet is greeted by Chandelure floating right in front of his face. He yelps and leaps back in surprise, but quickly recomposes himself once he realizes this is a friendly ghost.

“Oh, Chandelure,” Emmet clears his throat, pretending to straighten out his shirt. He glances to either side of it, hoping for some kind of sign as to where Ingo is. “What are you doing there?”

In response, Chandelure pushes the journal into Emmet’s hands. He grits his teeth, nervously drumming his hands on the cover.

“Is Ingo here right now?” he asks. When he receives a nod in response, he continues. “Are you sure you want to do this again? It was a lot, but…”

Emmet trails off, suddenly noticing that the pen that Shauntal gave them is nowhere in sight. Out of curiosity, Emmet cracks open the first few pages of the journal, only to find a note that he doesn’t remember being there last night.

Emmet,

I may have lost my memories, but that does not mean I truly forgot them. I knew that there was someone important that I had lost, and I wanted more than anything to find them again. I never thought it would happen like this.

Since I’ve returned home, my memory has improved. It’s not perfect, but I know this: You are my brother, and I care about you. I want to keep talking to you like this.

I won’t leave you again.

-Ingo

Emmet blinks away the tears in his eyes. This is so Ingo. Not just the perfectly eloquent sentences, but the fact that he went out of his way to comfort his little brother when he was clearly distressed. This must have taken him forever to write! And he did it for Emmet?

“Ingo.” Emmet smiles through his tears, just as brightly as he did before his brother disappeared. “I missed you too.”

A cold feeling wraps itself around Emmet, almost like Eelektross when it comes back from a swim. Only, it isn’t Eelektross, it’s something much different. It’s almost like… a hug?

Oh, that must be it! Ingo must be trying to hug him!

The thought brings another wave of sobs from Emmet. He never thought he was going to receive another hug from his brother, but here he is now! Everything is going to be okay, because Ingo is right here! And he isn’t going anywhere!

Emmet sniffles. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

#submas #subway master ingo #warden ingo #subway master emmet #fanfic #rav's writing #twin spirits

[woolyfaye]

I saw the Northman last weekend and I’m not exaggerating when I walked out of that movie with a smile on my face.  It’s a story that’s unapologetically told in a style we...don’t write stories in anymore. It sticks to the saga-esque structure and narration everywhere save one scene, and expects the audience to just roll with it. Which, to be fair, the one thing I can credit a lot of bad “viking” shows with is that the layman has a bit more of an idea of what some of these things are, even if it’s not to the extent I know.  I make the exception of one scene for the Draugr. The Draugr scene is shot in a way that's more “here’s how it would have happened in the saga, and here’s what probably actually happened.” This is probably because a lot of the other mythological aspects of the movie can feel far more grounded than this one, even if it personally was my favorite scene. I love draugr being pains in the ass, it’s a favorite genre convention. 

It also does something I wish more things were willing to do and show the transgressive nature of masculine magic users. It starts with the ceremony binding Amleth’s vow to pursue a blood feud should his family be killed with the reminder of Odin losing his eye* to learn women’s secrets, and that Amleth should never sacrifice to learn them. Later, we have the icelandic witch, who most obviously is wearing feminine clothing, and also he opens his legs as he performs magic, as if he is taking up the feminine position during certain acts. I’ve seen lots of portrayals of early medieval witchcraft, and this was probably the first that committed hard but left me going “yeah I can see it.” 

It felt like I was watching a story told to ghosts, and it was thrilling with every step. 

Other rambly thoughts: 

I would give a pound of flesh to see a blood feud story where a character chooses to pay wergild or chooses to settle the debt in some other way rather than do a dramatic closing duel, but that’s probably my desire for an early medieval legal drama talking

The Viborg shirt appearing a good century and a half early was kind of jarring

so was the implication of Vendel era daneaxes. Those are late viking age weapons. 

Panovas are theorized to have existed in this time based on iconography and the ease involved in making them, so it was nice to see on the slavic characters

love the commitment to fight in the nude at the end, 10/10 uncomfortable to watch with my parents, 5/10 think I saw the uncle’s butthole

*I’ve seen some theories going about that it wasn’t his eye that he originally lost hanging from that tree (I’ll let you fill in those gaps for yourself there) and it was changed later, but there isn’t very much evidence for this, considering older image depictions identified as Odin are only guesses and our written sources are from post-Christianization. But the reminder to Amleth not to sacrifice to learn the secrets of women is something that in the text makes it feel like the writers knew about this theory. 

#the northman #medieval #it's saying something that i only cringed at amleth's swimming #I used to swim competitively so his head positioning just looked wrong

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 13 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Days 6 and 7 in Iceland. We’re over halfway through this vacation...are we ready for it to end or do we wish it could last forever? Thanks to @nazdaddy​ for the help with the childhood story. 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2,102

~~~~

When you woke up with a headache the morning of Monday, June 22nd, it took you a minute to realize why your head was pounding. Oh yeah...you’d almost slipped and told Cale that you love him…

Groaning, you tugged your pillow over your head, not ready to face the daylight. Sadly though, as much as your head hurt, your stomach was protesting the lack of being fed the night before. 

“Morning beautiful.” Cale whispered from a chair in the corner where he was looking through maps and his phone. 

“Try that again when my head doesn’t feel like it’s hosting a drum competition.” You mumbled digging through your bag for some pain relievers. 

“Sounds like we should get you some breakfast…” Cale murmured softly. 

“Yes please.” You requested, burying your head against Cale’s chest as he moved to hug you. “Probably shouldn’t have passed out before dinner…” You sighed, popping two pills before swallowing them with a bottle of water Cale handed you. 

Thankfully, by the time you’d eaten a full breakfast, your headache had subsided a good deal, enough that you felt like you could follow through with Cale’s plans for the day even if he assured you that you didn’t have to. 

A bumpy hour long drive (which would not have been possible without 4-wheel drive) later you reached Dettifoss Waterfall. You were absolutely astounded by the number of waterfalls on this island because it seemed like everywhere you went there was another one. This one boasted the reputation of being the most powerful waterfall in Europe and as you watched an immense volume of water go crashing over its edge you understood why. 

Taking more touristy pictures for your parents, you, for what felt like the thousandth time, climbed back into the car. Another hour and a half drive took you to the coastal village of Husavik. 

“I think you’ll enjoy this next activity.” Cale declared as you climbed out of the car. 

“Yeah?” You inquired, cocking your head. “What are we doing?” 

“Whale watching?” Cale replied, a bright grin on his face. 

“Are you serious?” You exclaimed. 

“Well hopefully? I mean the whales will have to cooperate.” Cale shrugged. “But it’s supposed to be a pretty cool experience.” 

“Let’s go!” Your excitement only continued to grow as you checked in with the tour company, dressed yourself in the overalls they provided, and made your way onto the boat. 

As you waited for the tour to start, Cale handed you a set of pills and a bottle of water. 

“I forgot these when we went to the lagoon but I think you might need them today. With your headache this morning, seasickness might hit a little easier.” Cale explained. 

Taking the pills, you swallowed them before kissing Cale lightly. Even you forgot about your proclivity for seasickness most of the time, so the fact that Cale remembered and had brought motion sickness pills kind of blew you away. 

Your families had been on a cruise together when you were 15 and Cale was 11. You’d always been fine out on the lake but the moment you were on a boat in the open ocean for the first time you became sick as a dog. You spent more than half the cruise in bed, and had only gotten through the other half by popping motion sickness pills as frequently as you were allowed. Cale had stuck by your side, watching movies while you slept against his shoulder and refusing to go do anything if you weren’t feeling up to it. It had been one of the last times you’d spent such an extended amount of time together until recently, but it had also been so long ago that you were shocked Cale remembered. 

“Thank you.” You breathed, squeezing his knee as the tour guide started to give a quick safety briefing before the boat headed out into the bay. For about an hour you continued out before finally the boat came to a stop for at least the moment. It took some patience but eventually your tour guide pointed your attention to some moving figures out to the left side of the boat. 

“Dolphins Cale...those are dolphins!” You blurted out. They were absolutely beautiful and you certainly hadn’t expected to see them. They didn’t stay in the vicinity of the boat long but shortly after they left, off to the right the flick of a whale’s tail sent water flying. The boat moved a little closer and you were able to see the whale surface again, water pushed out of the blowhole as it took in air. 

Two more whales made an appearance while you were out in the bay, one fully breaching the water before diving back under. It was a surreal experience...one you were certain you would never forget. You weren’t sure if you or Cale were able to get any decent photos but honestly that didn’t matter much to you because you just wanted to enjoy the moment you were in. 

By the time you started heading back to shore, your seasickness had started to catch up with you. Land was a welcome sight at that point and as Cale helped you off the boat, he helped you steady yourself before assisting you in getting out of your overalls. 

“Let’s get some more food in you sweetheart.” Cale led you over to a restaurant for lunch and then the two of you just walked around the village until most of the unpleasantness you were feeling had passed. 

“Was that worth the pain?” Cale questioned as he opened the car door for you. 

“100%.” You replied, kissing him gently. “That was something I think I’ll remember forever so thank you.” 

“Anything for you.” Cale stated offhandedly, but the look in his eyes suggested he really meant it. “So the only other thing on the itinerary is another waterfall...do you want to go, or just head back to the hotel?” 

“Would you mind if we just go back to the hotel?” You murmured. 

“Not at all.” Cale assured you. Like those days on the cruise where seasickness got the best of you, you spent your evening curled into Cale’s side just watching tv. You’d come so far from the kids you were back then and you knew if you’d told your 15 year old self that someday you’d be in love with that gangly boy who had rubbed your back while you cried because you were missing everything, she certainly wouldn’t have believed you. Though Cale was a man who had grown into his body and not a gangly kid anymore, he was still the kind, compassionate, beautiful soul that he was a decade ago and the way he cares for you has only grown. 

____

It was hard to believe that you had been in Iceland for an entire week. It was flying by so fast and the closer you got to the end of your vacation, the less you wanted to leave. This time alone with Cale was so wonderful and the thought of going home to where you didn’t wake up beside him everyday made your stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“I can hear the gears in your head turning.” Cale declared as his lips pressed against the back of your neck and his arms pulled you closer to his body in bed. “Everything okay?” 

“Just thinking about how I don’t want this to end…” You admitted, snuggling closer. 

“Me either.” Cale agreed. 

Neither of you seemed to be in a rush to climb out of bed. In fact, you just laid there enjoying being in Cale’s arms for nearly half an hour before your body protested the stillness and forced you to get up and stretch. Even when you did get up, Cale was quick to follow and as you got ready for the day he was by your side, the two of you moving around each other with a practiced ease. 

Though you didn’t really have a strict agenda, there had been so much to see and do or so much driving ahead of you that it felt like you had to keep moving or you’d fall behind. Today though felt nothing like that. You took your time at breakfast before heading just a few minutes down the road to the Dimmuborgir lava fields. 

Walking around the volcanic structures, you held Cale’s free hand as he took pictures with his phone in the other. 

From there it was another quick drive to Hverir, a fumarole field with boiling mud pits. The smell of sulfur was expected this time and though you didn’t love it, it didn’t bother you as much as it had at Geysir. You’d never known that so many different environments could exist so close together until this trip and it was mind-boggling to experience all of them in such short succession. 

Having checked off the majority of Cale’s list for the day by lunch time, you headed back to the hotel to eat and grab swimsuits. From there you headed over to the Myvatn Nature Baths, another hot spring. 

Honestly, you’d enjoyed the Blue Lagoon but you and Cale had both been so tired from everything else that you were really looking forward to just spending as long as you liked relaxing this time. 

Checking in, you parted to change again and after quickly showering you pulled on your suit, wondering if Cale would flip over this one like he had the last. His eyes went wide, but he wasn’t quite as speechless as before as he pulled you close. 

“Sunflowers for my sunshine…I see what you did there.” He grinned. Though it was the middle of the day, the nature baths were significantly quieter and less crowded than the Blue Lagoon had been and it made you feel more comfortable swimming close to Cale, perching yourself right beside him as he found a spot to lounge. 

After a while, you settled into a small pool with alcoholic beverages, leaning against Cale’s side. 

“This is perfect.” You murmured. As much as you loved exploring, you were basking in just being, not having to do anything or go anywhere. Cale’s fingers brushed lightly against your hip and you draped one leg over his knee as you turned to kiss him gently. “Maybe I should look into a hot tub for the backyard.” You mused. “Iceland has spoiled me and I’m not sure I’m going to want to swim in anything colder than this ever again.” 

“I mean...I’m not going to talk you out of that…” Cale chuckled. “It may not be the most practical decision, but we could certainly have some fun with it.” 

“Head out of the gutter Mr. Makar.” You giggled. “Do you think about anything but sex lately?” 

“Can’t help myself around you…” Cale shrugged, pressing a light kiss to your nose. “But that should be obvious considering I’ve had more sex with you in the month we’ve been together than in my entire 3 year long previous relationship.” 

“My gain…” You replied. You were never going to apologize for wanting to have sex with him. Nor were you going to apologize for the fact that the sex was really good and getting better every time. Being physical with him felt natural and you were glad to hear that he felt the same way. 

“This is something special huh?” You breathed, taking a sip from your wine glass as you looked out across the large pool to the skyline beyond. 

“This trip? Or us?” Cale clarified, finishing off his beer before setting the empty glass off to the side. 

“Both...but mainly us.” You whispered. 

“Yeah beautiful...this is something special.” Cale agreed. “A year ago, I never would have imagined how good things could be...being with my best friend. Now I can’t imagine life any other way.” 

As your eyes met, you couldn’t help but feel there was something left unsaid, but as he kissed you, you felt the weight of those unspoken words deep within you. 

“I can’t either.” You murmured as your lips pulled back from his. 

Breaking the intense moment, you moved to the larger pool, swimming around until you and Cale were both ready to leave. 

Today had been a wonderful day...you felt relaxed and closer to Cale in every way. Though you would leave the Northern coast of Iceland behind in the morning, in a way you were taking a piece of it with you in the form of memories that you hoped would last a lifetime. 

Swimsuit:

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #cavalanche #038

[coralsgrimes]

Oh god, I'm so glad to see people say that! I'm not Russian, or of Slav ethiniticy, r anything like that, but the way names were bungled in both show and books bugged me SO bad. Like, Alina is a woman, so her name should have been StarkovA. Aleksander, on the other hand, is definitely all man, so his name should have been Morozov, with no A at all! Instead, the names swapped genders, and it's a freaking mess - a bunch of other names follow the linguistic rules, but these two break them. I can't believe the editors of the books let this slip through. It should have been corrected.

I'm also annoyed by how they chose to pronounce Matthias - it's a pretty common name in the Scandinavian countries (all the Nordic ones, probably, I just know less about Finland and Iceland), as well as Germany, and there's no "ai" sound in it. The I is pronounced as the I in "is", or "in", perhaps a little bit longer. It's not like it's harder to pronounce it correctly, there were plenty of more difficult words in the show.

(Strangely, I don't have a problem with Calahan Skogman's accent. It's an unholy mess of free fantasy, but that's better than a shitty approximation of a real accent. I'd rather have a messy fake one (he was consistent in it, at least) than a mockery of a real one, be it my own or somebody else's).🌼

OMG the names are just one thing but it's enough for people not familiar with language to catch on sooo that says something x.x half of the names does not even exist lol but like it was one of the easier fixes they decided to not do x.x

Ravka (?? Ravke ???) is the most inspired with different nations in the mix as well and some of them are Nordic nations and Romani folks I believe. BUT THE ACCENTS! that was what? british? weird 'european inspired' or hilaria baldwin'ed?... why?

like if ye not gonna fix the stuff they could at least hire someone who would tell the actors how to speak or how to pronounce words instead of what we got x.x still can't believe that ma love, ma boy, the logophile the writer of songs Benny Boy had time to do darklina character changes but let them use weird anglicized??? versions of words. Cringed hard lol but that's just me lol

there is way more than this but i have no time or patience or mood for that anymore x.x I DO HOWEVER have this lovely quote saved, its from back when and is about the book overall but worth the time!

....Imagine if a Russian writer wrote a book about a fictional country called 'Straya, based off present day Australia. The head of the country is called the Prime Minister, and all his personal security team are call Colonialists. Everyone in the country drinks an alcoholic drink called Coke'a'Cola and everyone always get drunk because people in 'Straya are just drunks. In 'Straya People with no magical talents are called Rejects. The main character of the book is a girl called Barry who grows up under the care of a Housekeeper called Fuc Kit. Barry discovers she has special powers, and she goes to magical school run by powerful enchanters called Tim. At magic school, the school system is supposed to feel like it in 'Straya but it reads exactly like a Russian school... there is also a girl called Frank and someone has a grandfather called Jane.

#🌼 #speaking of names! #i do have a grishenka in my family!! #also omg #my grandma was the youngest of 8 kids right #and she had many older brothers #one of them was called yegor/igor #but get this #he was not lol #seriously everyone was calling him that but it was not his name #every single fucking fucker called him that #it was going for so long that no one actually knows why? #im not sure what his name was #my momma probably does not remember either lol

[rubyvroom]

I posted 1,823 times in 2021

193 posts created (11%)

1630 posts reblogged (89%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 8.4 posts.

I added 200 tags in 2021

#music posts - 43 posts

#horror - 39 posts

#halloween - 23 posts

#queueueueueue - 19 posts

#on the queue again - 15 posts

#queueueueue - 14 posts

#work week queue - 14 posts

#oh my god - 12 posts

#anxiety queue - 12 posts

#comics - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#it makes you appreciate that mark hamill is a real voice actor who can do so much with his voice and not just a celebrity who does animation

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

A full accounting of truly public facilities is elusive, says Soifer, but government-funded options are exceedingly rare in the U.S., compared to Europe and Asia; privately owned restrooms in cafes and fast-food outlets are the most common alternatives. According to a “Public Toilet Index” released in August 2021 by the U.K. bathroom supply company QS Supplies and the online toilet-finding tool PeePlace, the U.S. has only eight toilets per 100,000 people overall — tied with Botswana. (Iceland leads their ranking, with 56 per 100,000 residents.)

The presence or absence of restrooms in public spaces has long been an indication of a particular group’s place in society, says Laura Norén, a postdoctoral associate at New York University and co-editor of Toilet: The Public Restroom and the Politics of Sharing. From women to people of color to those with disabilities, vulnerable communities have struggled to have this most fundamental of needs accommodated. Most recently, transgender individuals have found themselves targeted in bathroom-backlash debates.

“It's basically the same script that just plays over and over and over again — and these social tensions often meet in the bathroom,” Norén says. “Who gets access to the bathroom really could be summarized as who should have access to public space and public discourse. Somehow, that crystallizes around the bathroom, because people’s fears are the highest in the bathroom.”

So how did Americans end up with so few places to go? Understanding this requires a look back at the societal and sanitary conditions behind public restrooms in American cities — and the moral panics that propelled both their creation and downfall.

Read the full article for the history of public toilets in the US -- including how women, people of color, and disabled people have always struggled to get access to public restrooms and as a result to public spaces in general, leading to the current scenario where we have an insufficient number of public restrooms in general, the pandemic closing a huge percentage of those, and the recent epidemic of “bathroom bills” to regulate the few that do exist. 

61 notes • Posted 2021-11-12 14:58:53 GMT

#4

It has.

Not sure to what degree this is “Human brains being unable to comprehend the scale of tragedy past a certain point” and what degree it’s “Engine of Capitalism must be continuously fed or it will die and media is owned by oligarchs” but surely both are operating here.

87 notes • Posted 2021-09-05 17:06:49 GMT

#3

I need to warn y’all that the Woody Allen documentary on HBO is very Not Safe For Life - I don’t even have triggers and I couldn’t sleep last night after watching it. Super upsetting and gross. It needs to exist to get everything on the record but if you have any triggers for child sexual abuse, grooming, and predatory behavior don’t watch this. 

Also and of course I would like to bugs bunny meme wish Woody Allen a very die

115 notes • Posted 2021-03-11 14:48:20 GMT

#2

Free horror films on Youtube: 2021 edition

Around five years ago I made a list of free horror movies you could watch on Youtube. Unfortunately none of the links work anymore and it’s much harder to get full-length films on Youtube these days.

But not impossible! Here is a brand new version with links that work as of 9/21/21 for all your Halloween marathon needs. Some of these are very old movies in public domain, others are just up on Youtube and nobody cares enough to take them down. A few are on Youtube Movies and are free with ads embedded (*). Enjoy!

The Old-School Classics

Nosferatu (original 1922 version)

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

Faust

The Mummy

Bride of Frankenstein

Phantom of the Opera

Night of the Living Dead

The Innocents

The Brain That Wouldn’t Die

The Blob

70s-80s-90s

The Omen

Black Christmas

Halloween

The Stepford Wives

The Stepfather

Ginger Snaps

Brahm Stoker’s Dracula

Dog Soldiers

Frailty

Horror Around the World

Diabolique

Black Sunday

M

Nosferatu the Vampyre (Werner Herzog 1979 version)

Hour of the Wolf

Black Sabbath

Suspiria

Vampyr

Haxan : Witchcraft Through the Ages 

Rated V for Vincent Price

The House on Haunted Hill

The Last Man on Earth 

The Pit and the Pendulum 

The Masque of the Red Death

Stephen King made for TV corner:

Sometimes They Come Back

The Stand 

The Tommyknockers

The Langoliers

Storm of the Century

Hammer Films British Horror

The Vampire Lovers

Twins of Evil

Captain Kronos Vampire Hunter

The Evil of Frankenstein

More Older Horror Films That are A little Lesser Known but I Love Them

A Bucket of Blood

Dementia 13

Carnival of Souls

The Lodger 

Lemora: a Child’s Tale of the Supernatural

Some Recent Indie Horror Films You Really Should Really Try

Darling

Coherence

Oculus

Lake Mungo

Triangle

YouTube Films Currently Free with Ads that More or Less Fit the Bill

Trollhunters (*)

Gremlins (*)

The Silence of the Lambs (*)

Addams Family Values (*)

9557 notes • Posted 2021-09-26 07:25:21 GMT

#1

What’s so awful and hope-eroding about the pandemic at this point is how consistently the value of life is cheapened before our eyes. The number of deaths go up. We are appalled and scared. The number of deaths go down, we talk about the economy. Hospital wards are full to bursting. The number of deaths go up. That number isn’t as scary as it was. We can get through that. The number goes down. It’s not zero. It’s hundreds and thousands, but it’s less than before and there are profits to be made. The number goes up. We’ve seen worse. The numbers go by. We don’t blink an eye anymore. They’re just numbers. The profits go up and the deaths go up and it’s business as usual. People are dying. People are always dying. It doesn’t make your stomach drop anymore. The number goes down. The economy goes down. Add another covid booster shot, make the numbers go the right way. My neighbor gets evicted because he can’t work anymore due to Covid side effects. Make him a number. People live out of their cars. But they didn’t die, don’t count them. Restaurants are open. Shops are open. People are dying. It’s not scary anymore. 526 Covid deaths yesterday. That’s not so bad. This is normal. It’s all numbers. 4.5 million dead around the world. How many is that? Is that a lot? I don’t know anymore. I feel sick.

34657 notes • Posted 2021-09-05 15:11:24 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #oh it actually worked? I thought it was a joke

[lunavadash-creates]

Have I ever told you that you are the sweetest cupcake ever?❤️ It’s impossible to not smile at your posts! I sincerely thank you for all your sympathy towards me! My heart just melts! It’s so rare to find such a pure and kind soul like you. Please, don’t change. Ever.

You made me worried a bit with your last paragraph - maybe I am oversensitive, but I am really worried. It breaks my heart honestly, I feel like you belittle yourself. Babe, you are wonderful! I am not saying this just for you to feel better, but because you REALLY are. Think for a moment about things you’ve already achieved! Darling, you graduated! It’s really something. It is even more something when you study two different majors at the same time and study in language school at weekends. It’s real hardcore! I am proud of you. SO FREAKING MUCH! You did so well and you did so much! Please, be aware of it. You are incredibly talented and creative. YOU are hard working, not me. And you know what? Please, have a proper rest. Don’t overwork yourself anymore. You have to have some space just for you. You have to rest and regain your balance. Don’t think about writing as your duty. I know you feel responsible for all requests you have. But they really won’t run away or disappear. They all will be waiting to be written when you rest. Don’t pressure yourself, I beg you. You know I love your writing. We all here love it. But we love you even more. Taking a break it’s not bad. It’s necessary. When you rest you will be able to concentrate, you will have a fresh mind and new ideas. Just remember that you are a priority.

Speaking of your visit to Prague. OMG, THIS ASTRONOMICAL CLOCK!! I envy you soooooo much! I wish I could see it by myself someday! Thank you so much for the photo! And geez, you are the very first person admitting that museums are wonderful! No one amongst my friends likes them and it hurts so much, because I couldn’t go to the Uffizi museum and Palazzo Vecchio in Florence. I would love to go to any museum with you then! Museum of sex toys sounds really interesting, mostly because it’s not about modern toys. Like, I would never thought that people could have such rich sex life! I heard that in Amsterdam and Paris there are similar museums. But! I bet you would love icelandic museum of punk. Ohh, I am pretty sure you would enjoy it! It’s really small, because well..Its former public toilet. Buuuut, if you like non-obvious museums this is definitely for you. Whale museum was also pretty good. Or I enjoyed it just because I love whales. I was also in a museum of teddy bears in Seoul and it was the cutest museum I have ever been in! Tell me more about that vegan restaurant! What good did you eat? I am not vege myself, but I avoid eating meat on a daily basis so it’s easy to make me excited with such things!

I am not sure if I am better. I mean, I changed my mind about being able to sleep all day. I am not able to sleep at all at the moment. I am tired and my eyelids are so heavy, but sleep never comes. I guess insomnia hits again, it's a never-ending circle. But I am concerned about your leg! I guess you had spoken with doctor since you got xray and usg. Did they say anything? Any ideas of what it could possibly be? It has to be something serious if you have problems with walking! How did you manage to go sightseeing in Prague? Babe, please, take care of yourself! And what does “health problem AGAIN” mean?! Have you had such a problem before?? It scares me like.. we just started adulthood? My friend sneezed and it made him lay in bed for 6 days not being able to move. Literally.

Yeah, I was in South Korea, but please, do not perceive me as your role model. Gods, it would be a terrible decision, really. But, I would love to share some stories with you if you want! I know it's a popular destination these days because of kpop. I used to listen to it, but I think a few years ago kpop was better? More interesting? Now I’m more into khh, but I think I can’t say that I’m into it anymore.

Talking about music! I discovered two new songs and I bet you know them already, but for me it was huge woah woah woah! First of it - Sabaton. Thay covered Metallica’s For Whom The Bell Tolls and they did it so good! Secondly - The Heart Asks Pleasure First. They basically made their own song based on one of my favourite piano songs. Oh my.. it’s sooo good!

And still talking about music! I just wanted to say that I also love our Wombo edits! That one with Ezio singing Stressed out was perfect! Mr Auditore looked very believably singing it. I liked the one with Edward and Haytham. I don’t know the song but it had such a christmas vibe! It made me think of Edward and Shay singing Last Christmas or some other shitty Christmas song together. Why them? No idea. I love Altair, but your latest headcanons could make me love them even more.

And! I just wanted to tell you that you inspired me to take japanese lessons on Duolingo. I am aware that such app won’t help me with learning such a language, but at least I can tell you that katakana sucks. Gods, I hate it so much. Hiragana is so pleasurable to learn. And I know katakana is visually similar, but it is a no no from me. I have learnt some basic kanji signs. And I just admire you so much more.

I hope you will have wonderful and peaceful week, Babe! Once again, please take care of yourself. Remember to have proper rest, sleep at least 8 hours and drink water! I hope your leg will be better soon!

🔪

Hey Knifey! I finally have the right mind set to respond to this ask!

So first of all thank you. You always make me blush with your kind words and I have no idea how to react! I want to squeaze you in a hug and give you all the sweets in the world!

As for the rest. You see i have always worked to hard on studying, so hard it actually burned out everything inside so now all i want to do i nothing! But i cant, i really want to go back to spending my free time in more creative way!

Omg Knifey! Finally i met a museum lover! And gods i want to visit them all! And you know? That Icelandinc museum sounds like such a goal, i want to go there 🥺 and Seoul museum of teddy bears?! I want to go there!

Honestly I love all museums and generally history. I enjoy visiting ruins of castles and villages, going to museums of everything! Art, machines, objects! There are always so many things and so many different ways to find the inspiration! And I always take so many photos for 'future references'. Some time ago i was in a gardens which showed different time of gardens of the world and there was this amazing exhibition of demons from Slavic mithology. That was so awesome! As well as Japanese garden!

In began restaurant i have this fried soy bites in some sweet-spicy sauce. So tasty! Im trying to recreate this recipe but so far its 1:0 for the soy :/

As for my leg. Its swollen AF bht i just... Put on my shoe and pretended it didnt exist. I can walk in good shoes but still im worried. As for that little again... I generally have some weird health issues. I had 5 surgeries for different stuff (spine, tumor, nose) so like... Generally i am healthy... Or at least i was until thst damned foot decided to show off. Its been 4 weeks and im still looking for a solution, running different tests and all. Hopefully they will figure out whag is going on.

Yes TELL ME ALL THE STORIES ABOUT KOREA.! I love stories, tell me everything!

Tbh i never listen ed to k-pop. I guess its just nkt my type of music but I enjoy some Japanese and Chinese songs (one i like is Arrogant by Xiao Zhang). I know songs you sent me and gods they are amazing! I love sabaton, rock/metal im general but I listen to all kind of music. Like Italian soundtrack from Winx, music from burlesque, Dragonforce, shanties. If there are k-pop songs you like you can always send then to me! Ill gladly listen to them all!

Im glad you like those wombos i guess i should make more! 😂😂

And gods. Katakana. 4 years of learning Japanese and I still need katakana board to remember those signs! And tbh i feel like Japanese duolingo has some mistakes ;/ but for Japanese i used lingodeer app and it was nice!

Knifey Im very sorry you have troubles sleeping. Is there something you can do to make it easier for you? Maybe you can take some melatonin pills? Maybe you are stressed? Can you maybe contact doctor, maybe they can help? I dont want anything bad to happen to you! Please take care of yourself? Pretty please?

Love you so much Knifey, you are such a sunshine and I just want you to be happy and healthy!

#Ask #Knifey #knifey my beloved

[buirbaby]

The Wardens: A New Wind Blows

Notes:  Please note that this fanfic is entirely self-indulgent and warps a bit of the plotting/history. I thought it'd be fun to do a reincarnation insert, but also add rules to it to make it more difficult for the protagonist to be successful in saving canon characters. I've also added lore about the Wardens and griffins, because why not. Might not make sense (though I am trying to be as canonical as I can), but it's fun to write!

Rating: M + Mature themes, language, and violence

Masterlist | First | Next

Cold. Everything was so blasted cold.

Shuddering, Tabitha rolled over and opened her eyes, enough light in front of her for her breath to stream through the air. It had been early summer, why was it cold as balls here? Groaning, she sat up and rubbed the back of her head. Wherever she'd been laid down, it was lumpy, hard, and uncomfortable. Her bare palm scrabbled against stone and confusion ripped through her. Fire. There had been a fire in her home and Balerion had woken her up.

"Balerion?" she called, her hoarse voice echoing through the cave. None of this made sense. One moment she had been passing out from suffocating on smoke and now she was in some icy cave? Maybe this was hell. That's what she got for her years of service, somehow avowing that killing for her country was somehow not murder. God seemed to think not and thus this was his version of purgatory or hell. Who would've thought that hell was frosty? Grumbling, she clambered to her feet and glanced around, uncertain which direction was deeper into the cave and which was out. Either way, she needed to get moving because she was going to freeze her tits off at this rate.

Trailing into the abyss, she continued along the only path set before her, curious if some demon or spectre would greet her in the afterlife. Would they tell her she was an idiot for not taking the offer of money? Or that somehow that condo company had a hand in her death?

There was a light up ahead, brightening the shadows that she was having difficulty glaring through. Did all cats go to heaven and she was damned? At least death hadn't been that painful, just like going to sleep before the tidal waves of fire consumed them. Out of all the things that Tabitha could be thinking, she thought about how crappy it was that this fire had to happen right before the trip of a lifetime she'd been waiting for. Iceland had been the most anticipated trip, even bigger than Denali. So much for celebrating her big 3-0 in the fjords and ice. Now she'd rot in the ground at eternally 29.

The mouth widened in front of her and a chill breeze swept right through her, making her shudder, as she drew her arms closer. Shafts of grey light filtered in through slats in the stone, the cavern dome-shaped and wide open. Dried grass and leaf litter was scattered against the ground, almost in the shape of nests, but they were long abandoned. In front of her, she thought she saw a fleeting bit of moment, a dark shadow slinking along the perimeter of the room, but doubted herself. It wasn't until the pool of darkness flew across, pouncing on her, that her heart leapt up into her throat and her body collided back with the hard stone flooring. Gasping, trying to flounder for air that had been driven from her lungs, she was eye to eye was a behemoth creature.

Brilliant fiery orange eyes blinked at her, set into a raptor's face, only the head of the bird was larger than her own. Obsidian feathers encircled its face, a wickedly sharp beak preening close to her face, a set of long tufted ears twitching. Undoubtedly a demon of hell, Tabitha was convinced, wondering if she'd screwed up her descent into the layers or if she should have tried running. She need only wait for it to disembowl her to begin her eternal torture in this frigid wasteland, but it was acting strangely. Tilting its head to the side before a soft murmur, almost like a huffing trill-similar to that of a cat caught between a purr and meow-blew her hair back. No, she knew those eyes. She hadn't thought of them like fire before, but more like pumpkins.

"Balerion?" she whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would enrage the creature.

The raptor pushed its face into hers, nuzzling the shiny ink black beak into her cheek, before clambering off to allow her to sit up. Tabitha was startled by what she saw, her cat's feline form condensed to only the frame of which he now possessed, his bottle brush tail sweeping behind him, a thick mane of feathers and fur clustered around his neck and throat, akin to a lion. But his front paws were talons, sharper than knives, fashioned for killing. Yet, the griffin's mannerisms bespoke of her soul mate.

"What the fuck is going on?" she managed, pushing herself to her feet to trot toward him, burying her fingers in the warmth of his feathers. Damn, it was cold here and Balerion was radiating heat. "Man, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, are we bud? You're... huge." Trying to fathom how it was possible her house cat had turned into a griffin, Tabitha continued to puzzle as she kept close to him.

Another trill of agreement before the feline pulled away, ear tufts twitching, before he let out a low growl, beak parting in fury. Suddenly, she was thrust behind him, barely able to glance over the broad set of wings he was unfurling to challenge the person approaching them. However, the initial reaction simmered down, the heat dialed back as a voice spoke in a soothing language that she did not comprehend.

"Please. Warden. Come out," the voice was youthful, childish, but within the timbre of the tone there was a great weight, almost as if there was a deep ancient wisdom contained within. A shiver lanced down her spine as she stepped out, pressing her palm against Balerion's muzz-er-beak to quell him. Despite the young voice, the small being in front of her was not inherently child-looking aside from the short stature. Just as she'd been startled with the griffin, the nut-brown skin dappled with spots like a baby deer caught her off guard. Its ears were also reminiscent of a doe, large and prominent as their slitted eyes.

He wore a cloak of leaves, his dark hair intertwined with vines and lichen.

"What... are you?" Part of her recalled the descriptors deep down, but it seemed too farfetched just along with the rest of this queer world.

"The humans call us the Children of the Forest. We call ourselves those who sing the song of the earth in our True Tongue," he answered cryptically, confirming what her heart had suspected. The revelation stole her breath away, the shock of falling into the depths of a book she'd had on her nightstand the evening of her death bone chilling. "I am called Fang."

"How are we here? This should be impossible," Tabitha muttered, convinced this was a coma dream. Still, it felt so real. Maybe they had survived the fire and her dying brain had concocted this dream state to float in while she healed. Whatever it was, being dropped into the realm of A Song of Ice and Fire without any blood ties to nobility was real shitty.

"I didn't think that another of your kind would awaken. I've stayed here a long time, protecting the Roost . The last of its kind after men hunted the griffins to extinction," Fang explained, gesturing to the nests, in which Tabitha could see were more figures. However, upon scrutiny she realized that they were stone, trapped eternally in their slumber. "But it was told that for every griffin here, there is one Warden, another half to their soul, waiting to rejoin them in this life."

"Excuse me for not being aware of what my sacred, foretold destiny is, but can you enlighten me? What exactly is a warden?"

Fang was more than keen to oblige, the years of solitude in this cold cavern grating on him. "Wardens are keepers of knowledge. Wargs in their own right. Warriors and guides during times of extreme strife."

"Never heard of them," Tabitha remarked, racking her brain for any lore on Wardens, but had never recalled seeing them in the books. Maybe they hadn't been recorded for a reason, a loophole that could change the tide of what had been written, never quite taking on a form themselves since they weren't nobles or remarkable characters aside from trying to subvert plotlines they knew were going to happen. Griffin-wielding-wargs. That's what she was now. "Then... Are we north of the Wall?" Where else would a Child of the Forest be? Unless this was well before when the books she'd known were set, this was the last frontier the Children had left.

"Yes, we are... You are familiar with Westeros' geography?"

"I am," Tabitha admitted grudgingly. "So, Fang, what's the plan? I mount up on Balerion and we fly off to try and change the world?" That was a fanciful way to put it and putting way too much hope in the fact that they wouldn't get shot right out of the sky while flying over the Wall.

"No," Fang shook his head. "You are not ready. You are not equipped for the journey. And unless you'd like to perish before your quest has even begun, you'd be wise not to just show up at any doorstep and hope for safe harbor, especially as a woman."

So Fang wasn't stupid. Tabitha's lips quirked up. "Then what do we do?"

This question would soon be answered, as Fang led them out of the cumbersome room that had wind ripping through it with icy, gnashing teeth. The cave went deeper, illuminated by strange blue lights contained within gnarled tree branches, more for her than it was for Fang, so that she might see where she placed her foot as they descended. Still, she wondered how any of this was real. How such a thing existed. Quietly, she amassed a collection of questions to ask Fang once they arrived at their destination.

The caverns grew warmer, the heat of a primordial hearth burning deep within the heart of the mountain. It took Tabitha a moment, staring at the grooves of the stone, the purposeful counter set in front of it, to realize that this was a forge. Fang paused, cocking his head and tilting his feline eyes back up toward her.

"This forge only lights when a Warden has awoken," he told her.

"When's the last time you saw it lit?" she asked.

"I have never, but before me, the time of dragons and conquerers came with the forge was bright and hot," Fang replied, skirting the room to place small hands on slate slabs that had been hewn into the wall, similar to a tomb.

"Lot a good a griffin must have been against dragons," Tabitha spoke her thought aloud, wondering how that would have sufficed. Balerion was large, perhaps even big enough to ride, but in comparison to the real Balerion? He was a pup, a mite without scales to protect him. Depending on when they were, dragons might fly again and be creatures that she'd have to be wary of. The thought of the flying reptilians made her shudder, Balerion pushing his head into her side as he noticed that she was disturbed.

"Griffins are fast," Fang countered, pushing the stone slab with a shocking amount of strength. "Faster than dragons perhaps. But they're not here to serve the same purpose. Balerion is here as a partner and an escort, not to raze cities or conquer empires."

"Good, I don't think that was on my bucket list," Tabitha quipped. "What year is it? Do you know?"

"If I've been keeping good enough record, 294 AC," the stone had been removed entirely and in its place was the hollowed out tomb filled with items.

294? That was a few years before the events of the first book. While she might not have been ready to embark on any crusade to change the ill fate of many characters, she realized now that she had time to figure out what the hell she was doing. "Well that's a relief. Would've sucked to show up after-" but the words didn't form, her tongue twisting in her mouth and becoming slow and dumb. She tried again, trying to explain the situation that would play out in a few years time, only to find that she could not speak it aloud at all.

Fang turned, his lips curving up in a smile. "Ah, so it is true," he commented, looking more his age than childish as he crossed his arms. "Legend says that for all the knowledge the Wardens might have, they cannot speak it to another."

Tabitha wanted to dash her brains against the stone. She knew all of this shit and she couldn't tell anyone? Couldn't write it down? Now this threw a bigger wrench in her plans. For if she came to a situation where she could save someone by simply saying 'hey look out for the Freys', she could not. "How am I supposed to do anything?" she hissed irritably.

"You'll know. Just as the forge beats with the life in your heart, you will know when it is time to make yourself known and to help change the tides of fate. Actions speak louder than words," Fang retorted, pulling out a thick, padded doublet that was within the stone storage. "Here, these should fit you. It is cold outside the forge and eventually, you will have to brave it."

Accepting the attire that had been stolen away for centuries, Tabitha was more than eager to put it on in place of her own thin clothing. Things could not be simple. She could not have the power over death in words, she would have to be clever, strong, resilient and work her way into politics without the cushion of a title or lands. Christ, that was going to be hard and even having Balerion beside her seemed more like a burden than a saving grace. No, she was thankful he was there, her dark star amidst the turmoil and confusion that was the world she'd suddenly been thrust into, but she felt daunted.

While Fang continued to rummage through the ancient artifacts of Wardens passed, she sat on a bench made of rock, hewn into the wall, and stared into the dancing flames of the hearth. Fire had taken her from her past life and now a new fire was ignited. Her fingertips swirled along her open palm, feeling the strange new mark that had found its way there, that hadn't been there. A swirl shaped like a griffin's head, rough around the edges, and akin to a burn--as if it had been branded into her skin. It did not hurt, but she wondered if this was her boon as a Warden.

To save Westeros. Obviously, the Night King would be the largest priority. Given that she was north of the Wall, she had to assume that her 'in' would be with the wildlings or the Night's Watch. Again, her head throbbed in worry, wondering how she'd manage to convince others that she was worthy of their time and not just a good lay, rape, or twat. She could not speak of what she knew, so she had to count on her actions and the cleverness of her tongue to aid those that she knew Westeros would be better with. Could she make it to Winterfell before Ned Stark left for King's Landing? Could she stop Bran from falling from the broken tower? Did she want to stop him? So many questions that had no answers and yet the fire danced madly in front of her, beckoning with flaming fingers, whispering into her ears.

"We shall guide you."

Through fire there had been rebirth. Not in the same manner as Dondarrian when he had a priest bless and revive him, but in another ancient method. Between worlds and veils. The fire had claimed the Warden and then spat her out into the arctic mountain that would suffice to become her home for the next few years as she gained her feet. A modern woman in a dark, twisted medieval fantasy. Not once had Tabitha yearned to be tossed amongst the pages she read with delight, because she knew that life was fickle, dangerous, and uncertain. No one was favored, even the main characters could die.

"Here," Fang interrupted her train of thoughts, breaking her line of sight with the fire that she had fallen into a trans with. He held up a scabbard before her, the sheathe a dark midnight blue, enameled with white gold detailing. Not too much, simple and clean, just enough that it wasn't utterly nondescript. The weight felt heavy on her lap, her fingers turning around the straps of the belt before she gripped the handle and pulled part of the blade out.

For a sword that had been collecting dust for more than a hundred years, it was honed and sharp. No, that was not right. There was a reason for that. Tabitha pulled it out entirely, the rippling waves in the folded steel catching the light of the fire and throwing refractions around the space like a mirror held to the sun. This was Valyrian steel, with no need to be taken to a whetstone.

"Fuck, I don't know how to use a sword."

#game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #a song of ice and fire fanfic #reincarnation insert #freeform #added lore #the ability to change the future but with a twist #romance is not the main theme #BAMF female OC #buirbaby writes #The Wardens