#and I've rarely seen it used correctly on here

[jaggedcliffs]

...at some point the definition of “unreliable narration” on this website has stopped describing actual unreliable narration and has just become...describing narration and point of view

#unless you have an omniscient narrator that is attempting for some sort of objectivity as if they're reporting the news... #most of the way I've seen the phrase 'unreliable narrator' used in the past couple years #has mostly just been in reference to 'a character with a pov' #that isn't an unreliable narrator my good dudes #that's just called 'telling a story through a certain voice' #anyway 'unreliable narrator' has a very distinct definition #and I've rarely seen it used correctly on here #and it is getting more and more irritating #'unreliable narrators' aren't unreliable because they're describing the world as they see it without getting at some objective truth #they're unreliable because they're lying and/or they've suffered a break with reality #either they can't be counted on to describe events as they perceived them #and/or they can't be counted on to describe an approximation of reality #like edgar allen poe's narrators as ur-examples are unreliable for one or both reasons #a character just telling a story through their pov does not fall under either category #technically every narrator is unreliable because everything is subjective an language contains ideology #hence: why there is a phrase for a narrator who is unreliable in a certain manner #literature #*screams into the void* #putting this in my queue so it comes out later

[petcr3]

something to rely on | chapter one

series masterlist (coming soon!)

summary: despite being separated, bob floyd is there to support his wife and their son after she sustains some injuries in a car accident.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: separation/divorce, reader is frequently referred to by she/her pronouns, is called bob's wife/ex-wife, mrs. floyd, etc. bob and reader have a son, but i have tried to be as inclusive as possible with regards to appearance and the type of family! (meaning, if i've done my job correctly, charlie can have been adopted, not necessarily carried by the reader, etc.) non-graphic reference to a car accident, non-graphic description of injuries. chapter one is set entirely in a hospital. readers parents are present in the story, still married, and have a good relationship with reader because this is fantasy lol

a/n: lads, it's here. some of you have been hearing me blather about this story for fucking ages and chapter one is finally done. i'm proud of it, i think, but if nothing else i simply cannot keep sitting on it, so here it is! very excited for this story's future <3 i hope you love charlie as much as i do lol

It’s a rare occasion that one hears Bob Floyd before seeing him, but you suppose your getting into a car accident is a special enough occasion. 

Things feel hazy–– with two broken wrists and a broken leg, you’ve been given quite the painkiller. You’re not sure how long you’ve been awake, exactly, but it can’t have been very long. There’s a digital clock on a small table next to your hospital bed, but your neck is too sore to turn far enough over to see it. A thick wooden door is shut against the buzz of the floor outside: the ringing of phones, the click of computer keys, and the clatter of patients being wheeled to and from scans and tests and specialists. 

Even amidst all that, the sound of Bob’s words cuts through. He’s raising his voice, you realize. That’s not like him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse says on the other side of the door, “but outside of visiting hours I can only admit family, and––”

“I am family,” he says, impatient. 

“I understand that, but when a patient is separated––”

“Separated,” Bob interrupts, “not divorced. That is my wife and the mother of my child, so will you please let me see her?” It sounds much more like a demand than a question. The nurse sighs, clearly frustrated. 

“Let me go speak to her.” She steps out from behind the counter and cuts Bob a severe look. “If she is awake, I’ll let her know you’re here. But given that rest is one of the most crucial things for her right now, I will not be waking her up. You can wait.”

“Thank you,” comes his clipped reply. The nurse approaches your room, only a few steps away from the front desk–– Bob would have just gone straight in, had he known— and when the door creaks open, he can be seen standing over her shoulder–– a respectful distance behind, at least.

“Ma’am, there’s someone here to see you,” she says. You can tell it’s taking everything Bob has not to run to you, but he’s smart enough to know that showing this nurse any more disrespect isn’t wise. “He says he’s your husband,” she continues, “but if you don’t want to see him, I can tell him to leave.”

“No, that’s okay,” you say, “he can come in.” She turns around only to discover Bob right behind her. He squeezes quickly past, murmuring a hurried thank you before practically flying to your bedside. All his frustration quickly dissipates as he leans over you, a deep furrow in his brow. Over his shoulder, you see the nurse shake her head, exasperated, and leave, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey honey,” Bob says, hand lifting to brush across your cheek, as if it’s two years ago and nothing has changed. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I’m okay, Bobby,” you reply, tired. You surprise yourself, though, using his old nickname like that. Since you two broke up, you’ve only ever called him Bob. “Someone lost control of their car in the rain, apparently. You owe that nurse an apology.”

“And I’ll give her one later. First I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I just said that I’m okay,” you laugh softly. “Bob, I’m fine.” Reluctantly, he nods, leaning back to grab at a chair. He won’t even stand all the way up, refuses to take his eyes off you lest you run off somewhere else to nearly get yourself killed.

“How’s Charlie; is he with your parents?” You nod, heart clenching at the thought of your son, how distressed he must be right now.

“Yeah,” you say, voice getting a little watery. “Yeah, I got to talk to him a little while ago. He wants to come visit after my surgery tomorrow.” Bob’s brow furrows. 

“Surgery?”

“Just my left wrist. The right one and the leg only need braces, but,” you sigh, “yeah, the left one took the door pretty hard, so.” He nods.

“How about your head? All okay up there, no bleeding?”

“I have a concussion, but that’s all. They know what they’re doing here, Bob. Don’t worry. I’m gonna be just fine.” He studies you for a moment, then sighs, nodding his head again. “Not so fun being on the other side of it, huh?” you say without thinking. It isn’t meant to be cutting, but blue eyes snap up to your face, a faint expression of shock on Bob’s features. 

Still, you have a hard time feeling too guilty. How many times have the roles been reversed? How many times have you held your baby boy to your chest murmuring reassurances that you can’t promise are true? How many times has Bob been gone, unable to tell you he was okay or even alive? Or looked up at you under the harsh white light of a hospital room on base and told you there was nothing to worry about when you both knew that there was? 

Bob schools his expression into something a little softer and gives a curt nod. You can’t decide if that was over the line. But that had always been the problem, hadn’t it? 

Neither of you had known how easy it would be to push each other over their limits. You’d thought love and a thick skin would be enough to survive the looming fear of losing your husband. Bob had thought it would be easier to outrun the guilt he always felt leaving you behind, the way it weighed on his chest like an anvil. Eventually, your wounds were rubbed raw and his ribs began to crack beneath the pressure.

The times when he was home were supposed to be precious, but they had become tense, uncomfortable. It wasn’t good for either of you, and it certainly wasn’t good for three-year-old Charlie. Splitting up had been the best choice, even though it pained you both to admit it.

Bob had been adamant about a separation rather than a divorce. Ex-spouses of the military were still entitled to some benefits, but for Charlie’s sake and yours he wanted to remain legally married. You’d both agreed that if you met other people and got serious enough, a divorce would be back on the table. It hadn’t been the easiest decision, but now, laying in a hospital bed, you can’t help but feel grateful. And how many people can say their ex husband came rushing to their side in an emergency? 

Regret is already creeping up across your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, reaching to touch the back of his hand. Your fingers brush awkwardly against his skin where they protrude from your brace, but you can see the gesture means something to him–– his eyes shine a little sadly when he looks at you. He gives a faint shake of his head. 

“S’okay. Me too.”

Despite your best efforts to persuade him otherwise, Bob stays the night in your room, sleeping with his legs slung across a second chair the nurses had been kind enough to provide for him. (He’d apologized to the nurse he spoke to when he arrived, and she’d taken it rather graciously, all things considered. In her place, you’re pretty sure you would have had him thrown out.) You fall asleep fairly easily, exhaustion having taken its toll, but you wake up in the wee hours needing the bathroom. You press the call button, hoping it won’t wake your sleeping companion, but Bob rouses when Jermaine, one of the nurses, comes in. The whole bathroom song and dance is a process you certainly don’t enjoy, but you’ve gotten used to it over the past several hours. 

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Jermaine quips, walking to your bedside.

“I keep guzzling water when he’s not looking,” you say, nodding towards a still groggy Bob. Jermaine only laughs and pulls back the covers.

“All right, ready?” 

“Yep.” You grimace as he braces his hands beneath your armpits to help lift you up enough to get into your wheelchair. You sigh as Jermaine rolls you to the bathroom and braces an arm around your waist to help you onto the toilet. The door stands open, but you’re too drained to care–– besides, this isn’t anyone’s first rodeo.

You don’t see the way Bob’s eyes widen with worry. How he watches each maneuver carefully, filing it away in the back of his mind. The decision had been made before he walked through the door, really, but seeing you struggle only cements it. He doesn’t say anything as Jermaine helps you back to bed–– only a quiet thank you as the nurse leaves the room. He can talk to you about his plan tomorrow.

A low murmur of voices filters into your consciousness as you wake that morning, your eyes flickering open to see Bob standing with Dr. Alvarado, who will be performing your surgery. She notices you shifting in your bed and comes to your side, Bob following suit on the opposite, returning to his seat.

“Good morning, Mrs. Floyd,” she says warmly, “how are we feeling?” Your mouth is dry and you swallow thickly before responding.

“I’ve been better,” you rasp, wincing at the scrape of your voice. Bob is holding out a cup of water before you even have a moment to think, and you start to reach for it before faltering. In the fog of waking up, you’d almost forgotten.

“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, bringing it to your lips. You drink, far too worn out to protest.

“Your procedure is scheduled for 12:30 this afternoon. It’s about 8:15 right now. That’ll give you some time to rest before pre-op. I’ve also been told you have a special visitor, if you feel up for it.” Your heart lifts, and you can’t help but look expectantly up at Bob. 

“Charlie?” 

The hopeful lilt of your voice splinters something in his heart. He smiles, tight-lipped but genuine all the same, and nods. 

“Uh-huh. I know you said the plan was post surgery, but your mom called saying they were up and ready to go. I figured you’d want to see him.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice high and thin, “yeah I’d like that.” Dr. Alvarado smiles. 

“I’ll let them know. They’re all very anxious to see you.” You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks. Ordinarily, you try not to let Charlie see you crying. With the separation, you’ve been doing everything you can to be his rock. You remember how scary it was when you were a child to see your parents upset, or worse, hurt. But today, you don’t know if you’ll quite be able to manage it. Gracelessly, you swipe at the tears on your cheeks, but before long, Bob is at the ready again, tissue box extended toward you. You nod your thanks and clasp one in between your fingers. Blotting is much easier. 

You’ve just about gotten it together when the door opens again. 

“Mommy?” Charlie calls, and you hate how you can hear the frightened tremble of his voice. He makes it a few steps over the door jamb when he sees Bob. 

“Daddy!” For a heartbreaking moment, wide eyes dart between the both of you, unsure of where to run. 

“Go say hi to Daddy, sweetheart,” you say, heart swelling to see the reunion. Charlie beams and runs directly into Bob’s arms.

“Hey, big man!” he says, scooping Charlie off the ground in a strong embrace. “I missed you so much, little bear.” He presses a big kiss to your son’s cheek and is rewarded with a delighted giggle that has you crying again. Hurriedly, you dab at your eyes once more.

Your parents enter the room behind Charlie, your mother’s smile wavering and your dad’s brow furrowed. The braces make hugs awkward, but your parents’ presence is an enormous comfort.

“Charlie’s been very brave,” your father informs you. “And we’re all very glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” you say wetly, wishing you could hold their hands. “I love you guys.”

You cast a glance over to your left, where Bob and Charlie are engaged in conversation, faces close together and voices hushed. Watching Bob parent has always made your heart ache, even now when things have fallen apart. He was meant to be a father, plain and simple. People who don’t know him might expect a Navy man to be gruff, tough on a child, especially a son. But Bob is all gentleness when it comes to your Charlie. He is patient and invested and even though you two aren’t together, it’s difficult to imagine parenting Charlie with anyone else. 

You tear your gaze away to talk with your parents, explaining what happened and asking about how Charlie has been coping over the course of the last few hours.

A few feet away, Bob has his son cradled close in his arms. 

“I was really scared,” Charlie confides in him, “but I gotta be brave for Momma.” Bob’s heart breaks just a little, and he smooths a hand over Charlie’s hair. Perhaps this instinct to protect is just built into the little boy– knowing you and Bob, that’s a distinct possibility. But Bob can’t help but worry it’s a result of the split. 

“You don’t have to be brave for Momma, honey,” he says softly. “That’s our job. Parents get to be strong for their kids, not the other way around. It’s okay to be scared when someone is hurt. And it’s also okay to express that. Especially with me and Mommy. And being strong doesn’t mean you can’t feel your feelings. In fact, being able to feel your feelings is a part of what makes a person strong, because some feelings are really hard.” Charlie listens to his father with rapt attention–– he always has. “But it’s important not to ignore them. Does that make sense?” He nods sagely when Bob is done talking.

Bob can’t help but smile, heart swelling with affection. It’s moments like these when he thinks he could leave it all if it meant getting to spend every second of every day with his baby boy. 

“Should we go say hi?” he asks, bouncing Charlie gently against his hip. Charlie nods, his gaze flickering over to you. 

Though you’re talking with your parents, you can’t take your eyes off of your son. Call it selfish, but ever since you’d been able to think straight you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him. You’re reaching out for him the second Bob starts towards you, but he gives you a look.

“With your leg?” he asks quietly, even though Charlie is right there in his arms.

“I still got one good one,” you quip,” and I think a hug is gonna help me get better much quicker. Besides, all my problems are below the knee— I’ll be fine.”

Bob has always had trouble saying no to you. 

“Be gentle, okay bud?” Charlie nods.

Carefully, he sets Charlie down in your lap, positioning him mostly on your uninjured right leg. 

“Hi baby,” you beam, the pain you’re in practically forgotten. “I’m so happy to see you!” Charlie snuggles immediately into your chest, eyes impossibly big when they look up at you. Tucking him under your arm is awkward, but you do it anyway.

“Hi Mommy,” he says quietly, like he’s afraid talking too loudly will hurt you.

“Hi,” you say again, matching his hushed voice, smile wider than it’s been for the duration of your stay. Bob stands slightly off to the side, feeling a little bit like an intruder. Still, he can’t help but watch the way your eyes sparkle when you look at your son. He’s never seen anything like it. 

A gentle hand on his shoulder catches his attention, and he turns to see your mother, her expression warm. He counts himself incredibly lucky that your parents don’t hate him. Sometimes he hates himself for what happened, and yet they still treat him like one of their own. The three of them exchange hushed greetings, each thanking one another for taking care of the two of you.

Over in your hospital bed, you’re playing with the ends of Charlie’s hair. He’s been telling you about everything that happened between yesterday afternoon and now, cheerily informing you of how much he cried and how he got to choose what he and your parents had for dinner last night. You drink in every detail with enthusiasm, grateful as ever for his enormous heart and his resilience.

“I was really scared,” he says softly after a moment. You nod.

“I bet. I was scared too.”

“Daddy says it’s okay to be scared.”

“Daddy’s right, baby. It’s more than okay to be scared. It’s important— it’s how our brains keep us safe.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. You know how I’m scared of snakes?” Charlie nods. “Well, not every single snake is dangerous, right? But there are some that are. And because my brain remembers that some snakes are dangerous, I get a little scared when I see them. That fear is my brain telling me to be careful and stay safe.”

“So I was scared because it’d be dangerous if you got hurt?”

“Kind of! It can also be scary to not know what’s happening, right? Because if you don’t know what’s happening, it’s hard to get ready to deal with it. And it can be scary to know that something sad might happen, because it’s hard to feel sad.”

“I don’t like feeling sad,” Charlie says, nodding his understanding.

“Me neither, baby bear. But today I’m not even sad, because you’re here.” Your son’s cheeks turn pink and he hides your face in his chest. Heart swelling with fondness, you cross your arms over his back in an awkward embrace and press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Is it okay if I’m a little sad?” he asks, voice muffled by your hospital gown.

“Of course it is, sweetheart. You gotta feel your feelings. And feelings don’t last forever; they change all the time, right?”

“Right.”

Out of sight, Bob swipes a few tears from his eyes. He’s always proud of Charlie, but he’s proud of you, too–– with three limbs freshly out of working order, you would be well within your rights to be out of sorts, but there you sit, still parenting admirably. Beautifully, even. Your father squeezes Bob’s shoulder and he looks up, almost a little startled. Your father smiles and the two men exchange a nod. 

Your mother steps over to your bed and pets a hand over Charlie’s hair.

“I think me and Grandpa are gonna go home for a little while, honey,” she says to him before looking at you and resting a hand on your shoulder. “Someone gave us a good scare yesterday and I don’t think either of us slept very well. We’re both a little worn out.” Suddenly, she seems to catch herself. “Unless you want us to stick around and––”

You shake your head and reach out an appreciative hand to cover hers.

“Go get some rest, Ma.” She nods.

“We will. But we’ll be back when you come out of surgery. Bobby told us he’d keep us updated.” Too tired to even think that far ahead, you nod. 

“Thanks for looking after Charlie,” you say, tangling your fingertips with hers.

“Well, that’s my pleasure,” she says, pressing a loud kiss to her grandson’s cheek. “And we can figure out next steps, we’ll find someone—“

“Mom,” you say softly, “let's just— can we take things one step at a time for now?” She nods–– the anxiety of it all reads clear on your face.

“You know, you’re right. Let’s get you through surgery first.” You nod, grateful. “We’ll see you soon, then.” Your mother smiles and turns to get her bag. Charlie giggles as his grandfather comes over to playfully jostle his shoulders.

“Be good for your mom and dad, okay kiddo?” Charlie nods eagerly.

“That’s my guy,” your dad says fondly, giving your son a hug before turning his attention to you. “You give ‘em hell in there.”

“What,” you laugh, “in surgery? Dad, it’s just my wrist; I’m gonna be fine.” He shrugs.

“Can’t hurt though, right?” he says lightly, but you can see a glimmer of anxiety in his eyes. He leans down to kiss your cheek and you return the gesture.

“Right,” you affirm, softening. “I love you, Dad. I’m gonna be okay.” Your dad gives a final nod and links arms with your mother as they leave the room. 

It’s so easy to forget that to him— to both your parents— you are still a child. Charlie is still so young, it feels impossible that he’ll ever be as old as you are now. Of course, you still marvel at the fact that he’s as big as he is; that he can walk and talk and do math equations and paint pictures. But it’s easier to manage how much he’s grown because you can still bundle him up in your arms and count on one hand how many birthdays he’s had. Maybe if you were having less of an emotional day, you’d be able to imagine what it’ll be like when he’s grown up, but you can feel tears welling up in your eyes again so you push the thought out of your mind.

“Mommy?” Charlie asks, bringing your attention back into the present.

“Mm?”

“Did Grandpa use a bad word because he’s very stressed?” Laughter sputters out of you before you can help it, and Bob raises an amused eyebrow.

“Yeah, baby,” you say, “I don’t think he was thinking very hard about which words he was choosing. He just meant that he wants my surgery to go well, that’s all.”

“It’s like telling someone to give it their all,” Bob explains, coming to sit down at your bedside again.

“It’s what Daddy does when he’s on a deployment,” you offer, curling your arm into something akin to a flexed muscle, “he gives ‘em heck.”

“And that’s what Momma’s body is gonna do when she’s in surgery. It’s gonna do everything it needs to do to keep her safe while she’s asleep.” Charlie looks between you two, worry creeping back into his features at the mention of the surgery.

“Hey,” you murmur, “I’m going to be okay, Charlie-bear. I promise. Sometimes things can go wrong during a surgery, but the likelihood of anything bad happening is very, very low.” Charlie nods, wide-eyed. “So there isn’t anything to worry about sweetheart. But it’s still okay to be scared, right?”

“Right,” comes his hushed reply. Your heart aches not to be able to soothe his anxiety, but you know there’s no sense in trying to talk him out of it–– especially in the wake of what you’ve been trying to teach him. Still, it seems to you that the rules shouldn’t apply to Charlie, with his delicate soul and enormous heart.

Bob lays a comforting hand on your son’s back and his little form immediately relaxes into the touch. The three of you sit in comfortable silence for a little while, but soon the door creaks open and Jermaine enters with a wheelchair.

“Is this Charlie?” he asks brightly. 

“It is!” you chirp. The boy in question looks up shyly. “Charlie, this is my friend Jermaine. He’s been helping me since I got to the hospital.”

“Your mom is a tough lady,” Jermaine says warmly, squatting to be closer to Charlie’s eye level. “I promise we’re gonna take very good care of her.” Charlie nods.

“Pinkie promise?” he asks, heartbreakingly earnest. Jermaine smiles.

“You got yourself a deal.” He locks his pinkie with Charlie’s and stands up. “I’ve gotta take Mom for a couple of tests before her procedure, and then we’re gonna take her off to surgery. But you’ll get to see her in a few hours when she wakes up, okay champ?” Charlie holds on to you a little tighter and peers up at his dad, who nods encouragingly.

“Okay.”

“Mom is very lucky to have people that care about her so much,” Jermaine says. “You should be proud.” A little divot of determination forms between Charlie’s brows and he nods. Bob starts to stand and Charlie clambers around to give you one last hug.

“I love you Mommy,” he says. You squeeze him as tightly as you can and press a big kiss to his cheek.

“I love you too, baby bear. I’m gonna see you so soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, a heartbreaking waver in his voice. You give him another kiss before Bob scoops him up again, and before you know it, Jermaine is wheeling you off into the hospital halls. 

Back in your room, Bob has Charlie wrapped up in a tight embrace.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby bear,” he coos, “everything’s gonna be okay.”

#something to rely on #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun reader insert #bob floyd reader insert #bob floyd x you #quinn writes #petcr3 writes #my writing #bruh im sweating #lewis pullman x reader #robert floyd x reader #ok fuck it we ball

[neeterloveschenford]

So I had to take the day to get my thoughts in order and to make sure I was remembering certain things correctly. ( I wasn't. Thank you @theflyindutchwoman @cfr749 and @intelligentfan for helping this poor old brain remember.) Also, I wanted to get another re-watch (or two) in before I put my thoughts into words. So here's my two cents....

I've seen some people compare Lucy's journey to Nyla and Angela's. Let's put it out there: Angela almost completely ruined her chances of ever becoming a detective. She had to work her butt off to redeem herself. Otherwise, she would have spent the rest of her career as a TO. As for Nyla, yes she got a golden ticket, but she didn't use that to advance her career. She was already a detective. She used the golden ticket to basically take a step down to be a TO. This was so she could have the time to re-build her relationship with her daughter. She kept the detective title, but she went back on patrol. She could have done anything, but she put family first. So we can't really say that either lady had an easier career path than Lucy. That said, I'd like to talk about what I would like to see happen with Lucy and what I don't want to see.

First thing I'd like to see is Lucy being lifted up by Angela. Yes, Nyla is her mentor, but Angela's struggle was closer to Lucy's. And selfishly I'd love to see more interaction between those two. Don't get me wrong, I want to see Nyla outraged over Lucy's treatment by Primm, but I want to see Angela share with Lucy her own feelings of failure that she had to get through.

Secondly, I would love to see Pine throw her two cents in. She is a powerful woman who has risen to a high ranking position. She could give Lucy a serious confidence boost by letting her know she is on her side.

As for the things I don't want to see, I absolutely do not want her to get a golden ticket. I want her to get this promotion on her merits. I want Primm to have to eat crow and admit she is an amazing officer. In reality something like a golden ticket is pretty rare. It would be a little much to have three officers in the same division with golden tickets.

The other thing I don't want to happen is Tim stepping in and saying something to Primm. I've had jobs where I've been the only female with serious alpha males. Something like that would have made my life miserable. Lucy needs to be the one to put Primm in his place.

So that 's my thoughts on Lucy's future. Lucy deserves this promotion. She has worked hard and has become an outstanding officer. I hope the remainder of this season is going to be about her redemption.

#chenford #the rookie #lucy chen #tim bradford #angela lopez #angela lansbury #nyla harper #it's only my opinion

[gem-tavvy]

IMPROMPTU TAVROS NITRAM WRITING COURSE

VOL 1. ~ OF QUIRKS AND SYNTAX

wanted to work on a fun lil post to remark on some common problems i see in tavros nitram's portrayals in fanworks, and how he actually Acts, using in-comic examples! please tell me if you enjoy!

i think more people should learn how tavros' quirk works. cause i see a lotta ppl making the same handful of mistakes, and while there are more important things to worry about. the comic is Right There and Chock Full Of Text.

obviously there's the basics. capitalization and punctuation. these are the basic building blocks of every character's quirk. john using apostrophes and periods separates him from, say, dave and jade.

and jade using an excess of question marks, exclamation marks, and smileys separates her from dave. and roxy using a lot of acronyms and shortenings (and typos while drunk) separates her further from the "all lowercase" gang.

for tavros: let's look at capitalization first.

tavros types in reverse case. that is to say, where most people would write capital letters, he writes lowercase letters, and vice versa. he starts every sentence with a lowercase letters, and every lone 'I' is lowercase as well.

(important to note: he also uses lowercase after EVERY comma. when it comes to capitalization, treat every comma like it's a period.)

the only exception to this rule seems to be proper nouns. unless he's saying it at the beginning of a sentence or after a comma, that name is written in capital letters, like when he says "THE KNIGHT" and "DAVE" in his conversation with rose above.

as for his punctuation,

tavros uses a lot of commas. where you'd expect a dash or a semicolon, use a comma. where you'd expect a period, use a comma. you need a set of ellipses? use a comma.

wait. i want you to read that last sentence REALLY closely. "use A comma." i need you to drill this into your head right here, right now, forevermore. if you care even remotely about writing tavros correctly, HEED MY WORDS:

USE A SINGLE COMMA.

i don't care how many pieces of art, how many fanfics, how many Whatevers you have seen, tavros dOES NOT,,,,, uMM,,,,,,, uSE THIS MANY,,, uH,,,,,, cOMMAS. he only needs to use one at a time. the exceptions to this rule are INCREDIBLY rare, and only appear when he is genuinely distressed or compromised.

in the first example, not only is he merged with vriska - causing numerous quirk changes - but they are under a tremendous amount of mental and emotional stress. in the second example, he is caught off guard by gamzee's sudden advances. in the third, he is experiencint a severe allergic reaction caused as a result of being permanently fused with a cat.

even in his conversations with vriska where he is being actively bullied and harassed, he largely only uses a single comma at a time. this is absolutely THE most common mistake when writing tavros.

the SECOND most common mistake i see is making him s-s-stutter. a lot of people think that just because he's awkward and is described by vriska as "stuttering," he always has to "s-stutter like t-t-this." but it's not true, and tavros Does Not talk like that.

tavros DOES stutter, but the better word to use to describe it is stammering. he doesn't really think a sentence out before he talks - it's why he often says "uh" and "um" between clauses. it's also why he drags out words sometimes, like "hIII," or "hEYYY," or "wOAHHH,". he's the kind of guy that's always gotta make a noise when he's talking, even if he doesn't really know what to say yet.

i have more stuff to say about WHY people write tavros this way, but i'll save it for later. we're still on the topic of his quirk!

so he doesn't use more than one comma at a time, doesn't use dashes to stutter, and as we know uses apostrophes mostly properly. what about exclamation points and question marks?

now, this is where we have a bit of a schism. previous images i've posted, if you noticed, have sentences where tavros is asking a question. namely when he's asking rose all those questions about dave. when it comes to EARLY homestuck, which i personally subscribe to as the purest form of his quirk, tavros ONLY uses commas. even if he's asking a question.

but later on, usually during act 6, tavros starts using exclamation marks and question marks more. so there's a precedent for it, sure. i'd personally err on the side of caution, though. use them like you'd use multi-commas: sparingly and for a good reason.

combining capitalization and punctuation, i also want to mention how he whispers, too, because it's one of my favorite gags in homestuck.

in homestuck, whispering is typically denoted by surrounding one's text in (parentheses.) for tavros, this is no different. if a character normally speaks in all upper case, like karkat or terezi, they might also replace all of that upper case with lower case.

but tavros sucks at whispering. if he's outright muttering under his breath, he (jUST SPEAKS LIKE THIS,) but if he's genuinely trying to be surreptitious, he will TRY to speak all in lower case. however, little pockets of upper case will still (sNEak, inSIDE,). if you need to write tavros whispering for whatever reason, this can be a fun gag to call back to for comedy's sake.

the final syntax element to touch on is simple. emoticons!

tavros uses a variety throughout homestuck. all of them have a common theme: they always start with a "}". NOT a bracket "[". he ALWAYS uses one of the curly brackets, without exception.

he uses }:) , }:o) (when speaking to gamzee once), }:( , }:'( , and }:D ! might be more examples, but you get what i mean. he has a good variety! he typically either uses these after a sentence OR as its own "line," without any text. he also even uses them outside text. like:

AT: aWW, sAD SURE IS WHAT THAT IS, }:(

TAVROS: }:D

#homestuck #tavros nitram #writing #hoping to make a continuation #will probably address his actual characterization in vol 2 and his design/expressions in vol 3? depends

[caught-in-a-dusty-web-of-secrecy]

Assignment Presentation Checklist

sometimes the presentation of assignments can be Fucky, which is extremely annoying. so here is a checklist of things to do when perfecting the presentation of assignments (this can be for essays, reports, videos/video essays, speeches/slideshows, etc).

I: Planning & Preparation

this is the initial stages of doing the assignment, such as taking notes, listing potential websites, drafting a thesis/theses, drawing diagrams, etc. i've found that the quality and organisation of everything done as part of planning and/or preparation tends to set the tone for the whole of the assignment, and the effort placed in this stage alone can elevate your mark significantly.

Key Objectives In Planning & Preparation Is the planning organised? Is there detail? (Excess detail can often be useful, as knowing the topic well allows you to expand on small ideas easily and use extra terminology and contextual references that elevate the overall quality of the full work.) Does it accurately reflect the vision of what you want the final outcome to be? If there's a thesis, does it have depth and dimension? (Having multiple points and perspectives of research available within the thesis allow for the overall essay to have more depth, and allows for you to research relevant areas of interest within the topic. Writing these additional points of research is also helpful as they help form smaller theses for the body of the work, as well as you won't forget that way.)

II: Research Quality

this is fairly self-explanatory, i think; it's the quality of the overall research from the planning stages which is utilised and reflected in the final outcome of the work. this involves not only the research itself, but the background from which it is retrieved and the variety of the research. i outlined how to assess research credibility in this post.

Key Objectives In Research Quality Is the topic research detailed? Is the topic research both accurate and relevant to the research inquiry or thesis statement? Have a wide variety of resources been used? (This includes having both primary and secondary sources, as well as having a mix of resource types such as websites, articles, books and textbooks, and videos, etc.)

III: Writing & Editing

this refers pretty much to the quality of the writing and the editing of the overall work. this is important as the clarity of the writing is vital in having the reader or marker understand the research and the arguments or points being made. additionally, the editing of the work will add to how professional the marker perceives the work to be; as an example, it is rare that you should be using first or second person language in any assignment, and if that does happen to be a requirement, it is often specified (though personally, i always make sure to confirm any details such as this through email on the day i receive the task).

Key Objectives In Writing & Editing Is the writing style professional and distinguished? Have advanced language features been utilised correctly? (If advanced language and literary features or advanced terminology are used, you should have an understanding of the mechanisms and logistics of them, rather than using them to 'seem smart.' This is a mistake I've seen my friends make a lot when I'm proofreading their work, and it's relatively easy to spot where someone is just using language that they think is making them 'seem smarter' because it's incorrect use due to nuances disrupts the flow, thus hindering the flow of the writing and decreasing it's overall quality.) Does it have a cohesive and clear structure? Are there any grammatical errors?

IV: Format, Graphics & Visuals

this is, in my opinion, one of the most important bits, because if the formatting from a presentation is messy, that will color how the marker is going to view the whole of the work. while the writing quality may be high, it'll be relatively easy for this to be overlooked if the formatting is unclear or doesn't make sense.

Key Objectives In Format, Graphics & Visuals Is the information organised with both titles and headings that are clearly identifiable? Are paragraphs clearly defined? Are graphics detailed and engaging? Are graphics relevant and supportive to the writing?

V: Bibliography & Referencing

this is important because if you fuck this up you will fail terribly because of alleged plagiarism. trust me i would know it was the first time i ever failed anything and i got 16% and i cried. dont fuck this up.

Key Objectives In Bibliography & Referencing Are all information sources listed? (An easy way to do this is to just copy-paste all the websites and write every source down as you open and/or use it so nothing gets missed, because going through your history at the end is so unnecessarily difficult and also you wont know which sites you got information out of and which you didn't.) Is the bibliography correctly formatted? If annotations are required, have they been written? (This is another thing I would confirm with the teacher over email upon receiving the task.)

anyways that is my guide for the presentation aspects of assignments!! as always if you have questions or anything, feel free to send asks or dm me :]

#faestudies #faestudies: resources #study tips #study hard be gay #studyblr #studying #study blog #study space #student #studyspo #study studyblr #studyspace #studybrl #study motivation #study hard #study aesthetic #student life #studywithme #study session #study #studyinspo #study inspiration #study inspo #dark academic aesthetic #dark academia aesthetic #dark academism #dark academia #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark acamedia #academia

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Dark Imagination_ Part 9

A.N: 👻Happy Halloween!!! I hope everyone has a safe and enjoyable one! 🎃🕯️

Thank you so much for all the likes, reblogs, comments, etc!! I appericate it!! I'm glad that you all are liking the story!

Genshin Impact MasterList

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

You could totally see a pattern as four days after Neuvillette had taken your blood that you walked into the kitchen to see Alhaitham sitting and reading.

“Good Evening, Y/N”, He spoke as you entered, without looking up from his book. 

“Good Evening, Alhaitham. It's been quite some time since I've seen you.” you remarked.  

“Indeed, but it was necessary.” 

You bobbed your head as you made your way around the kitchen to fix your dinner. A companionable silence descended in the time it took you to prepare your food and sit down across from him. When you looked up from your plate at one point, you saw that Alhaitham had, at some point, closed his book and was watching you. You didn’t even hear him stir, nor the book closing. 

You had gotten used to him watching you, even if you still were a bit self-conscious about it. 

He rarely said much and had no shame in watching. Usually the one caught would act like they weren't but not Alhaitham, he just forked an eyebrow. 

“Want some?” You offered. 

“If I did, I would have mentioned it before now.” 

“Interesting that vampires here can eat human food, even though it doesn't sustain them.” 

“Sometimes, humans can cook a good tasting meal. I'm quite fond of Sabz Meat Stew, if they spice it correctly.”  

“Not sure if I've heard of it. You'll have to tell me how to make it so I can try sometime.” 

“I'll get you the recipe then.” 

Silence descended as you finished and washed your dish. They did offer you more servants, but you were used to doing things on your own, so you turned it down. Well, at least you didn't have to clean this house. Although, this wasn't a house so much as a mansion. That you'd had no problem, leaving to the servants. 

Without another word, you exited the kitchen, well aware that Alhaitham was trailing behind you. It wasn't the first time that he wordlessly followed you. 

However, this time, he did something that took you entirely by surprise. 

You paused when you felt his hand on your arm and looked up at him. In the darken hallway, his green and red eyes glowed. 

He turned you, and before you knew it, your back was pressed against the wall as he leaned over you, arms on either side of your head. You gazed up at him. 

“Your blood is distracting….”

You forked an eyebrow, “My….apologies?” 

He picked his arm off the wall and ran a nail down the length of your neck, making you shiver.  He continued down your arm before interlocking your fingers with his.  He repeated the process with his other hand. When both your hands were interlocked, he brought them up, trapping the back of your hands against the wall. 

He leaned closer to you, “You mistake me. Wasn't asking for an apology… Are you willing to give me a taste of your blood?”

Your mouth went dry and you could only nod. He released your hands, so that one arm could snake around your waist as the other tilted your chin. 

You rested your hands on his biceps as he lowered his lips to your neck. His tongue darted out, once, twice before he bit down. 

You winced, arching into him, even as you leaned your head back to further give him access. You shuddered when he pulled back, feeling the only thing holding you up was his encircled arms. 

Then he had picked you up bridal style. You looked up at him as he gazed down at you. 

“You okay?” 

You nodded. 

Wordlessly, he continued down the hall. 

“My thanks”, he added. 

You only smiled as you duck your head, “You are welcome.” 

When he entered the library, you could see a small plate of food and drink, already waiting for you. 

You smiled. 

Part 10

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fanfic #zhongli #zhongli x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #vampires

[pao-panda12]

So here's a list of headcanons I got for Bosch bc why not

Kalima is his and Yua's aunt: This is based off a line of dialogue I've seen when interacting with Yua after proving we're trustworthy to the Nayshalli Resistance (if I remember correctly), she describes Kalima as a relative- so that makes me believe she's either their biological aunt from either side of their family or a family friend that has supported them financially their whole lives and has spent little to no time with them when she worked as JP's secretary, but had more quality time with them once Kalima quit working for JP and inspired Bosch to fight for the resistance. Once it grew more and more Kalima started to have even less time for Yua since she had to tend to the rest.

Bosch and Yua are orphans: Assuming they lived in Old Nayshall since birth, both parents died young because of the poor healthcare and/or gang violence. This could've happened when Bosch was a kid and had now to take care of a baby Yua. Bosch recieved an allowance from Kalima which he mostly used for groceries and baby stuff for Yua, though sometimes money ran short so he had to resort to stealing (though this was on rare occasion).

Bosch, is in fact, a great cook: Since he had to basically run the house and raise his little sister on his own, he needed a lot of help and he got it through a nice old lady who was his neighbor. She taught him how to make a bottle for Yua, change diapers, care for the house, and of course- make mad delicious local dishes. Also, once Yua grew up a little she started to lean onto the old lady's cooking so he started to see her as competition for Yua's tastebuds, so he perfected the art of homecooking until the old lady unfortunately passed away by the time his little sister was able to barely remember her.

The origin of Bosch's scar: In the concept art and if you squint on his right eye (the eye his hair covers before he's experimented on) there's a scar thats only visible by the time he's revealed to be the Carboard Combatant and he's been experimented on by Neo Shadaloo (JP's faction) when irradiating purple from PP (Psycho Power). At first I thought it probably was because of a bad kitchen accident he had as a kid, but then I realized it could've also been one of the few times he stole out of necessity when money fell short, got caught, beat up and got that scar. That was the last time he stole until he stole that bag from Mad Gear in our second encounter with him in World Tour. (He can't lie to me that wasn't his first rodeo getting chased down)

Bosch is a great singer but is too shy about it (I blame his VA Griffin Puatu he's got blessed vocals): Okay so, ever since Yua was a baby he always sang her lullabies until she fell asleep and this has carried on until present day, which made him develop a good singing voice as a young adult, but is way too shy and introverted to show it off so his only audience who can testify about it is Yua.

Bosch can't lie for his life, even less keep one up: Look... He's by far way too expressive (and dramatic especially on his intro) to even lie about how he feels about something. You will be able to tell when he's happy, angry, sad, worried, etc. He may stammer a lie through his lips but one can tell what he's clearly thinking from one look to that beautiful puppy face of his. That why the only way for him to lie successfully is just running away before he says something he shouldn't. (RIP Bosch you would've loved being a theater kid)

Yua was the one who dyed his hair and did his braids: I did this on a previous post with a doodle on it but I'll say it again- Yua was the one with the idea of dying his hair red (with organic DIY hairdye) and was the one to braid his hair and place beads on it. Bosch just let her do it because it made her happy, plus it would be a reminder of her on his journey to the outside world, so when he got captured and his hair got butchered he would've been devastated since it was a piece of his sister that got ripped out of him.

Thanks for reading! (If I have more HCs I'll probably edit this or make a part 2)

#bosch waraya #sf6 bosch #street fighter 6 #headcanon

[mountain-lion-gremlin]

sometimes I feel like the old community that built up the alterhuman / nonhuman community has been forgotten.

Like everything has been so humanized, our identities are no longer deep because we don't teach the newer ones to try and understand it.

Sort of now feels like a game of "what feels like you the best?" And obviously, that isnt bad nor has it even been a problem. I've just been having this gut feeling that the whole community is becoming more and more human and forgetting what brought us here in the first place. Why we even feel these sorts of things. Like being a part of yourself is just a side blog, just something that is an add on and not something that is apart of you if that makes sense...

I feel lonely a lot, because I can rarely find anyone who connects with their nonhumanity as deeply as I do.

Rven though I'm currently not practicing being nonhuman and focusing on my shifts - no, not practicing, releasing. I haven't been releasing recently due to life and existing really lol. But either way, I just feel like this emptiness from being human is leaking very deeply into these places that once went to these places to hide from that.

Maybe others understand what im getting at and feel the same lol. I know others can't tell the difference, but I certainly can. And of course being human for some is an important part of their identity! I mean like I love being human - there's so many neat cool things and it's so great that I can even write this out so other creatures and decipher my thoughts and gain meaning out of them.

I just feel like the older, deeper, and more core primal part of the nonhuman community has been shunned and forgotten because of the bad reputation it has. And it's dying, and it's just mournful to see people wander onto these alterhuman places that don't connect with them, and talking about something that this other group completely understands, but has been completely lost and forgotten about.

Its scary to think that the p-shifting community is dying. But people don't want to believe in things that challenge the rational world now, and that's okay. Perhaps it needs to die. I'll always be a p-shifter through and through though. I'll always be a shapeshifter, even if nobody knows or understands what that is anymore.

Perhaps, a new community will grow over these old roots and find new meaning to shapeshifting. Perhaps our flawed ways will be seen and avoided. I want to see a community that isn't dying or dead because someone is a dictator with no actual experience in shapeshifting. I want to see a community where being a hybrid is okay, being unrealistic in your form is fine, that discovering werewolves and shapeshifting through a TV show doesn't make you a faker.

The p-shifting community is flawed. I do hope the old dumpsterfire dies. And I hope to god that we come out on the other side healthier and more alive then ever. I will say though, I have a feeling that no matter what happens the meaning of physically shifting will be lost no matter what we do. It's too taboo, too strange to most, and defies all logic in tiny human brains. That's okay though.

The practice has never been bad, but the people have been. I believe that p-shifting has never been bad (Of course if you apply it correctly. Anything done incorrectly can cause issues, including p-shifting) but the people who claim it, the people who attempt to dictate it, are. We don't need to destroy and harm and ban people because they aren't what you want, because they don't fit your standard of okay cuz there isn't any "science".

ill probably cover that anothertime, I'm incredibly passionate about the issues in the shapeshifting/ werewolf / p-shifter whatever you want to call it community.

But anyways, this is a tiny post about just expressing how I feel about this lack of depth that I feel about alterhumanity as a whole. I feel like they are moving in a direction that has lost the core meaning of being something other than human .

I will say though, it depends on how you view yourself and your relationship with your humanity. Perhaps all along there has been a large majority of people who sort of identify with being not human, but are mostly human. Perhaps the shapeshifter community is just an extreme version of this, that's why there's a lack of depth to it (personally to me)

regardless. Most likely no one will read this lolll

#p-shift #mountain lion.txt #shapeshifting community #yes I ramble #I will probably never cover what I said I would #goodbye

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

If I recall correctly you are on the 'trans/nonbinary identities are mental illness' wagon, and I wanted to know your perspective on why claims like that cause extremely negative reaction. I remember I used to react very negatively myself a year ago or so until I analysed that actually there is nothing wrong with mental illnesses to BEGIN with, so claims like that should not be hurtful? A thing I can think of is that term 'mental illness' automatically suggests need to 'heal' it, but that's also not true. For example autism and ADHD are also mental illnesses, but they are not supposed to be "healed", nor CAN be healed, it is just a different way of brain to work. Saying that about genders is also not supposed to automatically invite misgendering; again, mentally ill people often need accommodations and some of their requests and boundaries respected, and if someone refuses - THEY are kind of mean (if not straight up ableist), so many people would try to adapt just to be kind and accepting. So, respecting pronouns and name can also count as accommodating in this case, and if you don't do that then YOU are the bad guy here. Same as ignoring boundaries a mentally ill person vocalised makes YOU kinda mean. (of course utopia of everyone respecting everyone will never happen, but we always aspire to be kind and condemn the cynical individualists that refuse simply because)

I am just not sure why as soon as it is suggested for gender, all respect and validation for mental illnesses goes out the window. From what I've seen personally, the "opposition" is rarely ableist beyond using a single slur you know which one (and when they TRY to be, they get destroyed by their cis+het political associates that are autists or people on schizo spectrum. source: check 4Chan demographic). My only guess is crimes that have to do with trying to "fix" it and religious fanatics treating it as being possessed by a demon or something (happens to gays and lesbians too), but it seems like 1) this sort of people will be awful to others regardless of whether they think it is mental illness or not and 2) there is always a percentage that WILL go after more vulnerable ones - if not queer people then other demographics, and it is inherent flaw of humanity that cannot be a problem of only a concrete group. It is not 'society vs trans' issue, it is 'a percentage of society destined to be destructive and people who are weaker or different are the first targets' issue.

Again, not here to debate, and not asking you why you think these identities are mental illness, just questioning a logical error (if not a double standard) that I've been noticing regarding this claim and wonder what's your stance on why suggesting this is considered atrocious after all the (correct) claims that mentally ill people DO deserve love and respect. Like, why this claim is always seen as derogatory and never as value-neutral?

The thing is, I don't actually have any hard and fast rule or belief or explanation for the explosion of people identifying as transgender the past decade or two: it seems obvious a large proportion of the people - particularly teenage girls - are under the influence of social contagion, and another subsection of older males are autogynephiliacs who have found a way to come out of the closet and have their kink applauded instead of mocked by society for the first time.

But then there still remains the much smaller group of people within all that who really do have some sort of genuine gender dysphoria, and we still don't have any conclusive explanation for why that is: is it the brain misfiring and receiving conflicting information because of being exposed to too many of the opposite sex's hormones in the womb? Does it correlate to the introduction of the birth control pill? Would it be better treated the way we treat body dysmorphia, like anorexia or xenomelia, and try to help people find ways to come to terms with the body they see in the mirror, rather than encouraging them to hack bits off it?

I really don't know. Whatever is going on, it's clearly something that needs to be treated seriously, as a genuine medical issue, not a fetish or sexuality, which is why it is so odd it so quickly got bundled in with the LGB movement, where it clearly doesn't fit. I would say one of the reasons even discussing the phenomenon has become such a minefield is that it got wrongly included under that umbrella, which made questioning it as an 'identity' some kind of assault on sexual preference. Which is pretty twisted in itself, when you think about it; like treating bulimia as nothing more than an optional sexual fantasy.

The "ism" part of transgenderism is also a big problem, in that the arguments we are hearing "for" it every day emerged out of idiotic and short-sighted feminist theories back in the 1970s: the teaching that "gender is a social construct". This is not true - the basic gendered division of labor is universal across all societies and all periods of history - but it infiltrated academia, and from there got adopted by the far left as another one of the "identities" they could claim were being oppressed by western civilization, which they sought to destroy.

This is, of course, entirely the wrong way to approach a medical condition people are actively suffering with, but by politicizing transgenderism, it made questioning the narrative surrounding it a political act, and anyone doing so fair game for political attacks, which has had a hugely chilling effect on any open debate over how best to treat the people affected. Again: the worst possible way to treat vulnerable, real-life flesh and blood people seeking help.

Whether gender dysphoria is mental or biological or both in origin, I think that the people suffering from it deserve compassion and help and attempts at understanding. It must be an unimaginable nightmare to wake up each morning and see someone in the mirror you feel is not you. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and neither would anyone genuinely living with it.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

**This is related to the post about dcla gatekeeping telenovelas** In my eyes this whole debacle is mostly about popularity and demand/availability. Even before Violetta/Soy Luna there were a shit ton of teen (non disney tho) telenovelas that were extremely popular on their lands but didn't really pick up outside except a few places + europe, which is a shame for so many reasons, especially because i've seen a fair share of stuff that i think you and a lot of other people of this community would enjoy if they liked violetta/soy luna/bia/go vive tu manera etc but it's not available if you don't understand even slightly one of the neo-latin languages or languages that are kind of indirectly affiliated (mostly because those dubs/subs are the ones that are easier to find). I was also tempted to try and start subbing them in English but it would take an insane amount of time (still thinking about it tho..)

And then Violetta was like an insane phenomenon at the time and I understand why they tried HARD to push it on the american audience even tho they never really cared that much (which is insane to me because Violetta was such a core memory from my childhood) and maybe with Soy Luna they saw how popular it was in general and compared it with how uninterested the english speaking countries were at the times of Violetta and just... gave up with the whole translating thing because it wasn't worth it since it was already doing insanely good?? i guess (but that's just a theory/an opinion)

p.s. (The only disney gatekeeping I can fully conferm tho [in my opinion] is Juacas because I swear to god I cannot find it to save my fucking life in either it's original language or dubbed in my native language (it was released and was also really popular apparently, but at the time i was kind of away from telenovelas) so yeah I still think that sometimes they truly do shit without thinking and just generally suck at preserving international stuff. (i'm shit at explaining myself sorry lol)

No you’re good! D+ also randomly gatekeeps their d+ la shows from the international audience (like S2 of Papás por encargo?? Why not release it everywhere???? We wanna watch it too!). Also I wish they released stuff like Patito Feo… I’ve heard of that show’s existence since I first saw Violetta and it was only released in a handful of countries. Also, Violetta was really marketed EVERYWHERE, and then SL came along and in my country, they dubbed the two first seasons and then never the third and I barely remember it airing on tv, while Violetta was marketed so much you could not miss it. They never aired Bia here at all, and it’s not out on D+ in my country (but when watching it with a vpn they had swedish subtitles available so??? why gatekeep it from us). ALSO, so many countries have their own version of ”as the bell rings” and not a SINGLE VERSION is available on D+, not even the italian version which is the original??

I also have some shows from my country (non-disney) that was popular here, but I wish was known everywhere because they are awesome.

The english dub of Violetta was not popular in the UK. It was popular everywhere else, for people who did not speak spanish but still loved the show, and thus when wanting to show clips from the show they used those clips. Now, I personally don’t like the english dub and they randomly don’t translate stuff correctly at times, but for many kids who did not understand spanish but did understand english, it was useful. Now, most countries had their own dubs too, but when posting about clips online for everyone to see, you rarely used your own language’s dub. You used the english dub, so that you could reach out to a larger audience.

I remember a few years back, I said that I felt like Soy Luna barely was marketed and people were like ”No it has higher ratings than Violetta!!” - and it turned out I simply missed it because as I said, in my country they barely marketed it in comparison to Violetta and since it did not even get an english dub, kids who did not know spanish could not talk ”internationally” about it in the same way, and mostly had to talk about it locally with the people from their own country.

I definitely agree that Violetta was such a phenomenon that they really tried pushing it on americans. ”Come on!! All of latin america and Europe are obsessed!!!! You need to join in on the fun!!” and they were like ”uh no thanks we don’t like dubs and the kids will be bored if it’s subbed”, and that eventually lead to them not even caring to dub SL. The only thing that is sad about that is that we could have gotten british Ámbar.

#Idk if I answered what you wrote properly I kinda spiraled away #but I get what you mean!!

[elliewithcellie]

Christmas Eve Nerves

summary: Steve gets worried he hasn't done enough for his friends. You reassure him

wc: 0.7k

warnings/tags: gender neutral reader (but let me know if you notice otherwise), slight angst, steve's parents, established relationship, mostly fluffy i think

*********

You and Steve sat on your worn-out loveseat, your legs resting on his lap, admiring the lit-up tree. It was small, scraggly, some missing branches here and there, but it was yours, and it was immaculate. Presents lined up underneath the tree, both for you and for the gang showing up tomorrow. It would be loud and boisterous, people catching up and reminiscing of old times and new, but for now, you and Steve took solace in the silence.

You shifted in your seat, careful not to spill the hot chocolate in your hands. You hadn’t sipped yours yet. You kept both hands around the mug and close to your face, allowing the warmth to spread to your fingers and your nose. Steve had finished his already. He placed his cup on the coffee table in front you and rested one arm on the back of the couch, the other holding your ankle. You watched Steve carefully. The glimmering light from the tree silhouetted his features and accentuated his jawline. But you could see just enough to know he was lost in thought.

You tapped your free foot against his thigh in hopes of stirring him from his mind. He blinked up at you, his expression changing to a comforting smile.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked.

Steve’s smile faltered. “I—I think I’m nervous,” Steve admitted.

“Nervous?”

“About tomorrow, I mean. Haven’t seen them all in so long.”

You reached out for him, your hand finding his. “It’ll be great.”

Steve sat still for a moment. His eyebrows furrowed together again.

“What if I’m not all who they thought I’d be?”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess…What if I’m not as successful as they’d pictured? I mean, we’re scraping by. I don’t want to be looked at like we need help or like they pity us.”

“Steve. Why would they pity us? Look around you.” You gestured around you. “Look at what we have! We’ve got our very own apartment with a table and couches and a running fridge. You’ve got a full-time job, and I’m working and going to school. And we have each other, babe.”

You brought his hand to your lips. You felt his shoulders release some of the tension they were holding, but he still looked uneasy, not quite convinced it seemed.

“Can I ask you a question?” you asked.

He nodded.

“It sounds like it’s not really about our friends…” You let your thought fade. You hoped that Steve would piece this puzzle together, but he just looked at you confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean, holidays aren’t really – have never really been your thing. You tend to tense up this time of year. I just wonder if Christmas spikes up this need for perfection because—”

“Because on the rare occasion my parents did show up for Christmas, it was never enough what I did. I didn’t make my bed correctly; I didn’t ace my classes; they didn’t care to come to my basketball games. And now, I need a better job, a better place to live, a college degree. God, it’s like I can’t get their voices out of my head! Part of me is scared they’re gonna walk in tomorrow and trash on me, trash on you! I can’t have that. I won’t have it.”

You scooted closer to him and pulled his head to your chest. “I’m not worried. You know why?”

“Why?” he mumbled.

“Because even on the off chance they show up tomorrow. On the off chance they completely ridicule our adorable little tree or how we wrapped our presents or, I don’t know, we don’t have a guest room, our house will be filled with people who love you and care about you more than life itself. They will all have your back.” You lifted Steve’s head to look him in his eyes. “I've got your back, okay?”

Steve leaned in and kissed your lips and smiled up at you. “I love you.”

Your eyes and nose crinkled as you smiled, suddenly bashful of the love you had for this boy. “I love you, too. Should we get to bed then? Santa could be here any minute!”

Steve laughed. “After you, my love.”

*********

ForeversTaglist: @lizziedizzie3 @heavennleeee-blog @hunterswearingplaid @thisismysecrethappyplace @geekinator9 @ronnie248-blog @oliolioxiclean @phonegalhelp @because-you-never-know-when @roonyxx @keithseabrook27 @ericaprice2008 @heythereamigodude

requests are open:)

#steve #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve stranger things #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #stranger things #steve harrington drabble #slight angst #angst #fluff #established relationship #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #gn!reader #gender neutral insert #gender nuetral reader

[sketching-shark]

Man, zhu bajie n tang sanzang had to b up there w swk about their mischaracterization n hated in lmk fandom

I have never seen so much mishandling as i seen with those three characters 😭😭(like bro i get that the most noticeable arc that ppl retain is the white bone spirit arc bc of OSP BUT THEY DIDNT STUCK TO THAT CHARACTERISTICS IN THE LATER ARCS LIKE CMON NOW—bajie couldn’t even lie about the dragon piss medicine in a later arc, what makes yall think he’s always a fantastic liar. Theres some benefit to his lying but they also backfire. BAJIE DO END UP LIKING EVERYONE LIKE HE REFER TO SWK AS ELDER BROTHER!<- no man could ever live up to the wonder of zhu wuneng. He just sweet n he does get a fantastic arc in the novel!

Tang sanzang does have some(albeit rare moments where hes nice but his asshoole moments sometimes intertwined) where hes like “yea my disciples r greats but theyre mad ugly.” Or that he gets better at having more trust in his disciples besides zhu wuneng. Even if its followed by hella traumatizing moments that no human person would remain sane like that. <hes just barely holding on by his faith, his mission and his disciples. Not his horse bc he cant hold on to save his life but that character arc where he DIDNT FELL OFF THOO!>

Monkie Kid spoilers below

Hmmm I know about the Sun Wukong & Tang Sanzang dunking but is that happening with Zhu Bajie too? Have to say I find that a little surprising given that (if memory serves correctly) Monkie Kid did say Zhu Bajie's main fault (well besides the whole being a man-eating yaoguai thing) was being stubborn, but then lego Patriarch Subodhi said he became one of the hardest workers of the pilgrimage. I guess I was under the impression that people were more light on their criticisms and thoughts about Zhu Bajie, but maybe that's just because he doesn't seem to be a point of great interest in the lego show fandom lol.

Kind of funny story anon but I've been vicariously growing in awareness on how much Zhu Bajie is loved in China through @antidotefortheawkward's posts about the pigman. And yeah, I can see that being in large part because Xiyouji in its totality does give a very different impression of who these characters are and where they end up than a cartoony summary can provide. As a number of people on this site have noted for example, the White Bone Demon Arc can be understood in a much more complex light than "Tang Sanzang & Zhu Bajie hurt poor monkey for nothing" when placed in the context of it being more near the beginning of the journey when the pilgrims were still grating against each other a lot & it happening very soon after the whole debacle with the Ginseng fruit tree. Here after all you can see how the monk has a recent history of getting into serious trouble from the monkey lying and being quick to destruction, so he would be primed to not believe SWK, not to mention he does hesitate to use the headband against SWK more than many give him credit for here. And YEAH given all the things they go through together I am more willing to accept a Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie enemies to friends arc than that put on many another character.

Also LMAOOOOO Tang Sanzang DOES seem to have quite a few lines where he tries to comfort terrified individuals by telling them that the pilgrims are good people even with their rancid looks (ugly pilgrim rights <3). And oh dang anon you are so right about how even if Tang Sanzang is much more of a static character in comparison to SWK it's kind of a shame more attention isn't given to the series of horrifying events he goes through and what effect that would have on him so that he gets a little more depth than "weepy monk who's mean to the Monkey King & falls off his dragon horse" in the popular western imagination. But then again I can understand why the monk's trauma is largely downplayed in western cartoony retellings, given that said lighthearted cartoony retellings probably wouldn't be the best medium to even touch on stuff like human butchery, death threats, sexual assault, and the consequences thereof.

#anon answered #monkey critical #journey to the west #sa mention

[neopuff]

title: elaborate plans word count: ~5200 ship: six/holiday summary: Holiday wants Rex to go to a museum. Six sees an opportunity. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48731992 references to: "there's always next time" and "only you"

"You're going to New York City?" Holiday asked, not sure if she'd heard correctly.

Six nodded, pointing a thumb behind him. "Knight heard some rumors going around - something that sounds a lot like one of Breach's portals was seen in Central Park yesterday."

She nodded, but was pouting slightly, and Six couldn't deny that he was curious about what was on her mind.

"...do you want to come along?"

"No, no," she answered quickly. "I just…well, I was thinking."

Six didn't respond, knowing she needed time to finish her thoughts.

"Rex is almost eighteen now and…he's never been to a museum. Not that I know of, anyway."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "And?"

"And-?!" Holiday glared at him. "I've been giving him a basic education from here, but he's not getting a lot of formative experiences that a boy his age should be getting!"

Six stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Doctor, he's been all over the world. He fought a living mummy. I don't think he's missing out on much by not seeing collections of paintings and sculptures."

"I just think it'd be good for him," she added as a final point. "You don't have to take him, but I'd appreciate it if you did. The Met is right there."

With that, she turned back to her computer and continued typing whatever she'd been working on before they started their conversation. 

And Six was left with a quandary.

He didn't want to go to a museum. Not particularly, anyway. And he didn't think Rex would want to go to one, either. But that was Holiday's point, he supposed. Rex should try it because everyone should try it at least once and have the experience of being in one. Maybe Rex would really enjoy it and if they didn't try, he'd never find out.

It would also be nice to make Holiday happy, of course. She seemed like the type of person who really enjoyed going to museums and thought they were a good way to spend an afternoon. Maybe she’d go by herself, or maybe she liked to go on…dates.

Dates.

Six stood there for another few moments, considering. There were a lot of moves he could make at that moment and he wanted to make the right one.

"You should come with us."

She looked up at him. "Six, I didn't mean to-"

"I've never been to the Met, Doctor. I wouldn't be a good guide on my own."

Holiday looked suspicious for a brief moment, then gave him one of those rare, brilliant smiles that she seemed to save only for the closest people in her life. Six felt honored to be among the few to see them.

"When are we leaving?"

"Take off in ten minutes."

"Make it fifteen - I need to get changed."

x

"What? Why would we go to some dusty old museum?" Rex whined, leaning against the inner wall of the small scout ship they’d borrowed from the hangar.

"Dr. Holiday wants you to try something new," Six answered, arms crossed over his chest. "You've been stagnating over the last two months. I can tell you're getting bored with fighting humans in badly-made robot suits."

"Well, yeah, sure." Rex waved his hands around. "But I can't exactly fight anything at an art museum. How's that supposed to help?"

"Try to have an open mind."

Rex stuck out his tongue childishly. "I bet you don't wanna go, either. Did Holiday bat her eyelashes at you or something?"

Six glared at the kid and stuck his hands into his pockets. He was about to respond, but then Holiday walked up to the ship and distracted him. She wasn't wearing anything particularly notable, but something about seeing her in casual clothes with her hair down always caught him off-guard.

She was wearing a long blue skirt, white top, and light blue cardigan. It looked very pretty on her - pretty enough that Rex elbowed Six in the arm and whispered something about eyelashes again.

"Sorry I took so long. Are we ready to go?" Holiday asked with a guilty smile.

The boys nodded and Holiday walked past them to take a seat - Rex gave his mentor two thumbs up as she passed and Six wondered if this was a huge mistake.

x

"Okay, sure, I didn't get that spine-tingly feeling that I always get when Breach is nearby. And sure, Holiday didn't read any nanite activity with her little monitor thingy. But I still don't think that means we can give up and waste the rest of the afternoon here."

Rex spread out his arms and motioned around himself. He and Six were surrounded by civilians, which was a strange situation for the both of them. Exhibit entrances were to their left and right, up the stairs, around the corners…it was an endless maze of art and history.

Six sighed, hands twitching in his pockets. He did not enjoy being surrounded by so many people. Even if he and Rex used their Providence clearances to come in without going through the metal detector, he still felt like they were vulnerable. "Think of this like a…field trip."

"Kids go on field trips with their friends, not their parents."

Rex slammed his mouth shut after that and looked away from Six, feeling awkward. Everyone knew there was a sort of weird, parental relationship between him and Six and Holiday, but calling them his parents felt like too much. They were his family, sure, but they weren't his mom and dad. They were his…something else. Something just as important.

"...I suppose that's true," was Six's short response. He had some of the same thoughts as Rex, and he wasn't sure how he felt about all of it, either. Sometimes he looked at Rex like a son, and he knew Holiday did the same. But it was complicated. Rex was still learning more about his real parents every day and they didn’t want to confuse him or get in the way of that.

Holiday was buying their tickets and they were supposed to patiently wait for her to get back, but Six was itching to start his master plan of the day. He looked over to the ticket area to make sure Holiday wasn't in hearing range and then looked back down at Rex.

"If I give you twenty bucks, will you run off as soon as Holiday hands you your ticket?" he asked quietly.

"Huh?" Rex glared up at him. "Why?"

Six just stared as a response - his mouth a thin, straight line.

The realization hit Rex like a bag of bricks. "Oooohhhh, you don't care about me getting cultured - you just want an excuse to do something romantic with Doc Holiday!"

"Rex."

"Who knew you had it in you, Six?" Rex said cheekily, a bright smile on his face. "You could've said something earlier! I would've been way more on-board with this plan if I knew I could just leave-"

"No leaving. You're still going to look at art and learn to appreciate it."

"Aw, come on, Six! Is this any way to ask a guy a favor?" Rex whined again, though his eyes were drawn away from his mentor by a small group of girls wearing t-shirts that said 'Glendale High Seniors'. "Maybe I could be convinced to stay, actually…"

Six followed Rex's line of sight and frowned. "What happened to Circe?"

Rex pouted and quickly shook the blush off his cheeks. "Um…Circe and I are kind of keeping it casual while she works out some family stuff. It's complicated."

"Sounds like it," Six said, not really caring. "Do we have a deal?"

"Make it thirty!"

Six exhaled loudly through his nose and quickly grabbed two twenties from his wallet, handing them to Rex reluctantly. "Bring me ten back."

Rex laughed and stuffed the bills into his pocket. "We'll see!"

At that moment, Holiday returned with their tickets and handed one to each of her boys. She looked extremely happy and they both knew she was ready to infodump about her favorite things in the museum if they gave her the opportunity. "Are you guys ready?"

"Aaaactually, Doc - Six gave me a great idea!" Rex said with a devious smile that made their resident ninja very nervous. "I'm gonna follow around that high school group and try to get a normal teen field trip experience with them, okay?"

"O-oh." Holiday looked disappointed for a second, but she followed that up with a smile. "That's a great idea, actually. Just text one of us when you're done, okay?"

Rex gave her a two-finger salute and quickly ran off, easily falling in line with the group of students who seemed extremely excited to hang out with a famous person.

Holiday sighed and glared at Six, hand on her hip. "You could've suggested that before I wasted money on our tickets."

Six held the ticket she'd given him and looked over both sides. "Is there a particular exhibit you want to see?"

"Huh?"

He shrugged, trying to seem cool and casual. "I wouldn't mind looking around. If you want to."

There was an excited sparkle in her eyes that made Six's heart race, and she glanced around the room. "I haven't been here in almost twenty years, I don’t remember all the…well, I’ll go grab a map!"

While she did that, he looked at some of the text above the large, looming entranceways. European Art, European Art, more European Art…hm. Oh. He noticed her walking back and pointed to a room upstairs and off to their left. "Let's start there."

Holiday followed his finger to the Asian Art exhibit and smiled at him again. "Sounds great, let's go!"

x

Six wasn't much of an art guy.

In the past, he'd stolen some artwork for clients - rarely, very rarely, since his specialty was more in the life-ending department - but otherwise he didn't really partake in museums or art galleries or anything like that. He liked to stay informed and always paid attention to valuable pieces traveling through the black market, but he didn't have any interest in taking them for himself.

That being said, he had a particular lack of interest in portraits of old American and European politicians. He wasn't born in America, nor did he have American citizenship, nor did he have European ancestry, and he didn't have much interest in those countries outside of studying their fighting styles and war practices and much more modern politics and policies. It was important to know the history, of course, but the portraits weren't interesting to him at all.

He didn't have a lot of exposure to Asian art, having been raised extremely poor in Mexico City and then extremely isolated on a small island off the coast of Japan. One didn't prioritize that sort of thing in his training, understandably, but Six still found himself drawn to it. His family came from China and his master came from Japan, not to mention he'd spent decades studying and mastering Japanese fighting styles.

Holiday seemed interested in pretty much everything they saw, which Six thought was very cute. She would stand at each piece and read the blurb of information, then stare at it for a minute to really take it in, and if she had any feelings about it, she'd turn to him and ask for his thoughts. It continued like that through three rooms of artwork before Six realized that she wasn't going to stop. Which was fine. He was just glad that she was enjoying herself.

His interest in the art and his interest in Holiday couldn't distract him from his paranoia, however. Security guards in each room watched them carefully - especially him, because Six was a very recognizable figure and they probably knew he was dangerous. Then there were so many civilians around them - occasionally someone would bump into Holiday and Six would have to resist the urge to attack them. A crowded museum was not a great place for someone like him to be.

Still…it was making Holiday very happy. He liked that a lot.

As they reached the fifth room, Six started to take note of something else. All of the couples - well, almost all of them - were holding hands as they walked and chatted about what they saw. Some of them would even sit on the benches and cuddle while looking at certain pieces.

He stared at Holiday and wondered if she’d want that. Their relationship was very confusing - for both of them, he was sure - and he wanted to start trying to make it…less confusing. It was difficult to allow himself to get to that level of vulnerability, but he was willing to try if it meant he could be with her more completely.

It'd been clear for months - almost a year, at that point - that they had feelings for each other. And in that time, neither had really made a move to take things further. Six didn't think it was because her feelings faded, just that she didn't want to rush him. And there was also a slight hesitation that he imagined stemmed from whatever they'd had before he lost his memories.

Still, he felt like they were getting to the point where it was ridiculous. He was nearing 40, after all. He couldn't just watch her from a distance forever.

As he stared at Holiday while she stared at some art, Six finally followed her gaze to the painting and gave it a good look. He hadn't been offering her much interesting discussion about any of the paintings or sculptures so far, mostly because he was too focused on the dangers of so many people being around them. But he figured he could give her something. If he couldn't hold her hand, he could absolutely pay attention to what pieces she liked.

At that moment, she was staring at a painting of a Japanese woman, daydreaming sadly. Called Surgical Ward. He looked from the painting to Holiday's face, and back again.

Holiday caught him paying attention and brightened significantly. "This one is really interesting, don't you think?"

"...yes," Six answered, being somewhat genuine. "She reminds me of you."

Holiday curled her lips and stared at him as if he'd said something very strange. It made Six feel self-conscious, which she must've noticed because she immediately changed her expression to one that was more sympathetic. "Why's that?"

"I…" He suddenly forgot how to speak. Why did he say it made him think of her? That was stupid. It was because she's a woman and a brunette and it had the word surgery in the title which made him think of her being a doctor even though she wasn’t that kind of doctor. But that wasn't a good answer - it wasn't smart or charming or interesting. "I don't know. It just does."

She didn't seem put off by that response, giving him a smile in return. "It's based off of a book, according to the blurb here. The woman falls in love with her doctor and dies during surgery."

"Oh." 

Not smart. Not charming. Not a good date. He hadn't even established their outing as a date yet. Maybe Six could save face by backflipping out the window into traffic instead of stuffing his foot into his mouth so badly. "Not quite what I was imagining."

"It's all about interpretation, right?" she said with a chuckle. She lightly bit her lip, having noticed his lack of interest in the pieces so far. "We can go to another exhibit if you'd like."

"I'm fine to stay if you're enjoying yourself."

"I'd enjoy myself anywhere, Six." She pulled out the map and looked around for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, Holiday smiled and pointed to something that Six couldn’t see. "Oh I know exactly where we should go."

Six raised a curious eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything. He just assumed she was going to tell him.

Instead, Holiday reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging him through the rest of the Asian Art exhibit and back into the main hall. He didn't pay much attention to where they were going, focused instead on the soft warmth of her hand nestled in his. He was supposed to grab her hand, not the other way around! Though he supposed either way was fine so long as they got there.

He wondered if grabbing his hand to guide him somewhere counted as a romantic hand-hold or if it was different somehow. Where was the manual for that sort of thing when he needed it?

"Here!" Holiday said with a smile, using her other hand to point to the exhibit entrance name.

Six followed her pointer finger and saw the words Arms and Armor over the door, then looked inside to see a room filled with swords, armor, and other types of weapons or related instruments. He couldn't hold back his smile at the sight and squeezed her hand a little tighter in appreciation.

"Excellent choice, Doctor."

Holiday smiled and attempted to move away from him - including moving her hand out of his grasp - but Six held on and gently pulled her with him towards the first case filled with swords.

She didn't say anything in response to his actions, instead just staring at their conjoined hands like it was something she'd never seen before. In her defense, she hadn't seen such a thing in a very long time, and certainly didn't expect Six to keep holding onto her like that.

Her heart started to race embarrassingly fast as Holiday's analytical brain deduced what was happening. She'd seen Six hand Rex some money earlier and just assumed it was so he could buy himself something at the gift shop. But…maybe it was a bribe. Maybe this was all some sort of strangely elaborate plan to get the two of them on a date without actually asking her out or using the word date at any point.

Those thoughts made her feel a little paranoid. Maybe Six was just suddenly feeling romantic and wanted to hold her hand. That wasn't the craziest thought in the world (yes it was, yes it absolutely was) (the elaborate plan idea made way more sense). Or maybe Six's hand was just cold. (That was definitely not it either - she could feel how warm his hand was and it made her cheeks turn slightly pink.)

She followed Six's line of sight to a beautiful scimitar sitting in a case - embarrassed that she hadn't been paying attention to the artifacts around them. She was just thinking too hard about whatever was happening with their hands.

"Is this alright?" Six suddenly asked as he turned to look at her. He tightened his grip on her hand for emphasis, and Holiday blushed.

"...yes." She wanted to say it was more than alright, it was perfect, but she didn't want to humiliate herself further. Six was holding her hand in an art museum and she was overthinking it instead of just enjoying it? That was ridiculous. So she took a deep breath and smiled and moved her hand around so their fingers were interlocking. "It's definitely alright."

Six responded with one of his teeny tiny smiles that he saved just for the three closest people in his life and they continued through the exhibit, holding hands the entire way. There were hundreds of pieces to look at and plenty of time to look at them - both Six and Holiday were happy to take their time and enjoy themselves.

It'd been well over an hour by the time they reached the end. Several lively discussions about the effectiveness and artistry of certain weapons later, the two of them were still connected as they walked back into the main hallway. When Rex reappeared with a Statue of Liberty stuffed toy in his hands, he was smiling very brightly at the sight in front of him.

"I guess I don't need to text you, after all," he said with a smirk, staring blatantly down at their hands. "Have a good time without me?"

The two adults quickly separated their hands - Six's went right to his pocket, and Holiday clasped her hands awkwardly behind her back.

"Rex!" Holiday said, embarrassed that he'd caught them and also…embarrassed that she was embarrassed. Couldn't a 36-year-old woman hold hands with the man she loved without blushing over it? Maybe not. "Did you like the museum?"

"Actually…yeah, it was pretty fun!" Rex smiled and held up his new toy. "I made some friends, saw some funny naked sculptures, looked at some of the art of my people…"

Holiday smiled as he spoke, completely over the moon that he'd had a good time.

"...aaaaand I got this amazing little plush! She was only $38.99! What a steal, right?'

Six frowned deeply as Rex shoved the toy in his face, and Holiday just watched them thinking it was related to some inside joke she wasn't privy to. She didn't really care at that moment, she was just happy it'd been such a good afternoon.

An amazing afternoon, really. She was pretty sure that Six had planned all of this, and she wanted to thank him somehow. She had absolutely no idea how best to do that.

Well, she had one idea of how to do that. She just didn't want to rush anything. Even if she knew Six wouldn't object, she still didn't want to make a mistake. He was one of the most important people in her life, after all.

But he'd made a move, so she needed to make one, too.

x

Rex pretended to fall asleep as soon as they got back on the ship. 

He'd made it clear on more than one occasion that he thought his two guardians should be together and had been vocally frustrated by their lack of communication about the subject. Multiple times, he'd threatened to lock them in a room together or set them up in an elaborate Parent Trap-type scenario where they'd end up on a date without realizing it.

Six didn't want to deal with either of those options. He was an adult. He was the sixth most dangerous man in the world. He didn't need some nosy teenager to push him into going out with a beautiful woman. He was perfectly capable of telling her how he felt and holding her and kissing her and doing whatever else she wanted him to do to her.

Six kept those thoughts running through his head as he stared at Holiday through the mirror near the pilot's seat. He could see that she had her arms around herself and was staring awkwardly at the floor, looking like she had a million thoughts running through her head.

She glanced up and he looked away, despite the sunglasses hiding the fact that they'd made eye contact. He couldn't help but feel intimidated under her gaze at that moment.

"Mmm…talk to each other…" Rex mumbled loudly, still pretending to be asleep. "...stop being awkward…"

Holiday glared at him, blushing, and Six just tried to ignore him. He didn't need a push. He was doing just fine.

But then suddenly Holiday was standing up and walking towards him and Six felt his mouth go dry.

"Hey," she said quietly, taking a seat in the chair next to him.

"Doctor."

She looked out the window and watched the sky for a minute, enjoying the view of the clouds rolling by. There was nothing quite like flying at such an incredible speed. "Today was really nice. Thank you for that."

He squeezed the control wheel and felt his heart beat a little faster. "Anytime," he answered, trying to be cool and casual and charming.

Holiday smiled at that response and tugged some hair behind her ear. "I was wondering if you, um…if you wanted to get some dinner when we get back."

Six's face remained expressionless as she spoke and his grip on the control wheel loosened. So he hadn't fucked it up - she didn't just enjoy herself, she wanted to continue their date even further and maybe even further after that. He was very satisfied knowing he'd done the right thing.

When he didn't immediately answer, Holiday continued to talk, rambling a bit. "We don't have to go anywhere fancy, I just thought it'd be nice to eat together-"

"Dinner sounds great," he said finally, cutting her off. "Anywhere you want."

She smiled again and stared out the window, feeling very good about herself and the day she was having. "Okay. Okay, perfect. Good."

x

Dinner was nice. Dinner was nice last time they’d had it - Holiday remembered it all too well, almost like she’d dreamt about the missed opportunities for weeks after it happened. But Six didn’t remember it at all, obviously.

Ever since losing his memories, Holiday observed him occasionally do little things that reminded her of his old self. He’d pour his coffee the same way, he’d lean against a doorframe the same way, he’d say her name (her first name, it was rare but it was always something that made her heart leap) in the same way. Some days it almost felt like he never lost his memories at all.

But the dinner was a continuous reminder that he had. Because she couldn't help but think back to that previous date - where they drove out into town, had some Mexican food, and he kissed her on the cheek after the alarm interrupted their evening - which happened almost two years earlier.

Two years was a long time to wait for a second date. But she'd waited two years for the first one, so Holiday didn't mind. Besides, she'd had plenty of other things going on during most of that time.

She was not going to let the second date end like the first one, though. There wasn't an EVO alarm anymore, thanks to Rex, but there was an alarm for certain types of threats that couldn't be handled by the police or military. And Holiday was completely prepared to ignore it if need be. She was tired of waiting. She wanted to be with Six and he had made it perfectly clear on multiple occasions that he wanted to be with her, too. They'd waited long enough.

There was no rushing, no pushing, no pressure from an outside force. Just a simple desire to be together.

Holiday kept that thought running through her mind as Six walked her back to her room at Providence HQ - the same room she'd lived in last time they did this. The same hallway, the same footsteps, the same everything.

His hands were in his pockets and he looked like he didn't know what to do with himself.

She smiled softly at him, hands clasped behind her back. "This was nice."

"It was," he answered, just as soft.

There was a brief hesitation between the two of them where they both knew exactly what question was in the air. It was a very big step and though both parties were completely ready and willing, it still felt like dangerous ground.

Holiday took a deep breath and, instead of saying anything, reached out and grabbed Six by the wrist. With her other hand, she opened her door - and then silently pulled him inside and let the door close behind them.

The lights came on automatically and she awkwardly removed her hand from his arm, bringing her hands together to fidget with her fingers. She'd taken one very big step, but she didn't want to mess things up by taking the next one too quickly.

"I, um…so, obviously this has been a long time coming, sure, but I don't want you to think I've got any expectations or anything - I'm just trying to, uh…you know, see where this goes and-"

She was suddenly cut off by Six's lips pressed gently against her own.

Six had been listening patiently as she rambled, just as he'd silently obeyed her when she pulled him into her room. He wanted her, she knew that, and she was making it pretty clear that she felt the same. But he did enjoy watching her blush, so he let her struggle for a minute before responding.

He kept his hands in his pockets initially as he leaned down to kiss her, but after a moment he couldn't fight the urge to feel her skin against his hands. He removed his hands from his pockets and laid them against the sides of her face, holding her gently to him.

After the initial shock wore off, Holiday smiled. Her lips curled up right against his lips and he could feel each and every movement as she reached her hands up to grab his lapels. She bounced once in excitement and pulled him closer, releasing a small giggle as she pressed their lips harder together.

Six smiled back into the kiss, having never been kissed so enthusiastically before. He liked it. He liked it a lot. He was already feeling very drunk on the sensations of Rebecca's lips and hands and smell and she was so soft and -

He moved his hands down to her waist and squeezed, hoping she could understand that though he didn't express himself in the same ways as her, he was just as excited about what was happening as she was.

At his squeeze, she smiled again - and as her tongue passed his lips and entered his mouth, Holiday felt her back hit the wall and Six's body push against hers. There was no question about it anymore - it was happening. They were finally - finally doing it.

They made out for a minute against the wall, both feeling much younger than they usually did - until Six pulled his lips away from hers for a few seconds to catch his breath.

He smiled at the small whiny moan that escaped her throat and he wondered how fast his heart was racing. "I should take you to museums more often," he said quietly.

Holiday opened her eyes and stared into his sunglasses, giving him a small laugh before leaning up to peck his lips again. "Absolutely. I hear the MoMa is lovely this time of year," she answered cheekily, gripping his lapels tighter. "But let's focus on this for now, alright?"

He nodded, still smirking, and kissed her again. With an intense grip on his jacket, she guided him towards her bed, and Six let his fingers dig into the soft skin of her hips as he tried not to lose control of himself.

It was very difficult with Rebecca's arms circling his neck and her legs finding their way around his waist, but Six was a master of self-control.

Or at least he used to be.

Holiday's attention moved to his jaw and then the side of his neck, and Six squeezed her so hard he wondered if he might leave bruises. He also wondered if she wouldn't mind. At that moment, she was his and he was hers and he wanted to mark her up and make that very clear to anyone who saw her.

She started undoing his tie and he moved his hands under the bottom edge of her shirt.

He could ask her about it later. At the moment, he wanted to focus.

#generator rex #holix #agent six #rebecca holiday #rex salazar #carrofics

[byler-4-life]

Is it weird that I'm almost as excited for Will with powers as byler? I think it's because I've projected full-on requited byler to be more of a Season 5 thing (with heavy hints in Volume 2 Friday). But if they really are going Will with powers route, I think that's got a great chance of happening in Volume 2.

So question for you all...what type of powers would you want Will to have?

Telekinesis/Telepathy, similar to Eleven: this one would be the easiest for the show to explain, but would be the most boring option imo.

Healing Powers: I've seen this theory a couple time today, and also in a few fanfics in the past. I personally love the idea of Will having healing powers. It would just fit his character so well. Especially if a friend or family member (preferably Mike) being in danger/dying is the thing the triggers the powers to come to life.

Fireballs: The weapon of choice for Will the Wise. You know, on the rare occasion he can't just outsmart the enemy. We've seen Will drawing this, and using fireballs during the course of D&D. Wouldn't be shocking if this is the case.

Time Travel: I have a love/hate relationship with Time Travel powers. I love the concept, but it's really, really hard to pull off correctly. So unless they really have a good plan, I'm hoping they stay away from it. But, there is a good bit of compelling evidence, including Back to the Future references, even all the way back in Season 1. This post here does a good job of laying it out.

Electric Powers: This stems back to Season 1 and how Will was making electronic items react to him from the Upside Down. The show has never really explained this, and we're not sure if it's the same way that the others who went to the Upside Down this season also got things to react. Or if it was different with Will.

Those are the possibilities I have. Please chime in with which of these you'd like to see, or if you have a different choice.

#byler #will byers #will byers has powers

[themisfitthrone]

Blanket Permissions: what they are and why should you should add one

I am stealing from this very helpful twitter thread by my favorite podficcer @flowerparrish and joining the crusade.

The website in the last tweet is truly incredible. https://www.fpslist.org/ is a database that, as stated above, links to permission statements of various fan creators. If you're someone interested in creating podfics or fan art of written works, knowing who allows these transformative works ahead of time gives you a leg up.

But what exactly is a blanket statement?

Blanket or policy statements about a creator's fanworks are often found in the user profile of their ao3 page/social media account, at an "about" or FAQ page of their website or in a pinned post on twitter/tumblr/journal/etc.

Okay, but why should I include them on my ao3/tumblr/twitter/fanfic.net/etc.? you might ask.

Well, for one, if you're open to receiving these lovely little gifts (pod fics, fan arts)... It makes it so much easier for you to receive them! Instead of folks having to constantly ask for the permission, they can make something to show their appreciation for you and your work!

Okay but I want more information.

Great! Here's a few resources for you!

This lovely resource on Fanlore covers what blanket statements are, the various types of works you might like to specifically allow, and more!

This resource on Fanlore specifically dives into blanket permissions for podfics

@spiritthatdenies made a helpful post here about this already, but I am just continuing the crusade because I know I've never seen it on my dash!

What I like about that last resource is that the OP delves into some reasons that it's easier to include these statements. It takes away some of the anxiety and is more time-effective.

And remember! You don't have to say yes to everything. I have seen a whole range of blanket permissions since starting my (so far) brief journey into podficcing. I have seen statements that:

Specifically state that locked fics cannot be used

Specifically state that locked fics must be requested

Ask to always be given a link to the work after it is done

Specifically state that certain fandoms cannot be used/must be requested

Specifically ask that you do not re-pod anything already podded

So, seriously, your blanket statement can be anything!

Okay, so I added the blanket statement. But how will people know?

Well the best way is by submitting to the FPS archive I linked! Here is the page that has details on just how to do that. You can insert a link into the Google Sheet above, or register on the site and use the My Authors page.

Plus, there's a super wonderful extension I have downloaded that allows you to specifically view who has blanket permissions on ao3! It highlights those authors for you.

I will often check a creator's profile just to see if maybe they have a blanket permission but just aren't on the archive yet. It is rarely the case but I am hopeful nonetheless!

A final little resource, this one specifically for folks creating podfics, but that I think might ease the minds of folks worried about their works not being properly linked to: This browser extension is a podfic posting helper. Basically, it does all of the heavy lifting for you. It adds all the tags, content warnings, ships, you name it. It makes sure you have filled out the transformative works section correctly. It ensures that everything is exactly the way you need to it be (and you can customize it as well).

So... hopefully that covers it! I'm personally tagging just... a lot of fandoms here in hopes this reaches enough corners of the internet and gets reblogged enough that folks begin to add more blanket permission statements!

If you'd like a simple statement to post, feel free to copy this one down:

I give blanket permission for anyone to podfic, remix, or otherwise create derivative works of my fics! All I ask is that you link back to my work as the inspiration. If you would like to additionally link me to the finished work, especially if it is not posted to ao3, please send it along.

That one is the one I have on my ao3!

#blanket permissions #podfic #our flag means death #all for the game #teen wolf #harry potter #what we do in the shadows #star wars #star trek #mcu #dcu #dc comics #marvel comics #the locked tomb #the tarot sequence #heartstopper #my hero academia #stranger things #atla #critical role #the adventure zone #first kill #buffy the vampire slayer #good omens #lord of the rings #the hobbit #percy jackson #the hunger games #the sandman #green creek

[kage-no-sonzai]

Stammering Awareness Day Post

I missed Stammering Awareness Day this year because I was at a Sales Conference for work so here's my belated post.

"Therapy. It's not right for everyone"

I made a very similar decision to Paul Gaskin when I turned 18 and moved away to university. I was in a different city, far away from my parents, with nobody I knew. Away from every comfortable thing possible to hide behind. So I thought fuck it. I will not do this anymore.

Speech therapy is often not a choice for children like me.

I have stammered since the day I started talking, late, at age three. And even then my first word was 'no'. A testament perhaps to the personality that was hidden for years and years beneath the appearance of someone who was 'shy' or 'withdrawn'.

I did not speak between the ages of 3 and 14 in school. And if I did, they were one word answers. I am surrounded by memories of school reports my mum's kept with the teacher's feedback, 'she's quiet in the classroom, she should put her hand up more' or 'she'd be a clever girl if she wasn't so quiet'.

In those formative years, I had few, if any friends. And at the age I am now I realise just how damaging that is to someone. In uni, I didn't go to fresher's week, I rarely came out my room and I found myself emotionally and socially exhausted just because I walked through the kitchen to wash my pots and one of my flatmates was there trying to chat.

What has speech therapy ever done for me, if it hasn't helped me socialise and become the kind of person who just speaks without thought?

Speech therapy, in my case, was not to try and make my life better. It was to try and hammer the stammer out of me by any means necessary. I even kept the folder, which I found recently.

I missed out on classes and break times in Primary School, because I had Speech Therapy, organised by my school. And I remember feeling confused, when at the age of 8, one such speech therapist decided that my stammer was so bad, she sent me back to class, with an A4 sheet of paper. 'A-Z, Sign Language'.

I've never seen my mum so livid.

The ones who came after weren't as bad. But they never felt less patronising. They would put cards in front of me and say 'this is how you say this word correctly'. I know how to say the word, and correctly as well. Just not in the manner they wanted. Not in the way that proved to my parents, that all this therapy, all this money, was working.

Every day, I'd still come home with a stammer.

At age 13, I was gifted a device, called a VoiceAmp. A company now who doesn't operate. It was a small MP3-like device that fed my voice back into one ear, half a second later, at a higher pitch. And it worked mostly.

The teacher's knew about it. Let me use it. And I thought that maybe, maybe, it would be alright. I loathed having to carry it around with me everywhere, but it was something.

Until one day, class hadn't even begun yet, when a teacher berated me in the hallway for 'listening to music'.

And whatever confidence was built. Was shattered.

Around the same age, I found my passion, languages. I did German before, yes, but this was Japanese. This was different. Difficult. 3 alphabets, thousands of characters, fast-paced speaking?

I don't know why I really kept on at it.

It is the only GCSE I ever got an A* in.

It is the only time, I ever really truly felt supported by a teacher, and she didn't even teach at my school. She paid for my GCSE, out of her own pocket, because she saw how much I loved it.

Of course. My parents saw this and thought 'oh all that speech therapy worked, she loves languages'. When that's not entirely true.

I struggled, mentally I now know, throughout the entirety of my school life, extending into Sixth Form. Wondering, 'where am I going to fit in the real world? Who in their right mind is going to hire someone who, yes, speaks, reads, writes Japanese, but can't even say their own name without tripping over the syllables?'.

Having completed my first year at uni, something loomed in second year. My Year Abroad to Japan.

I was fucking terrified.

But I'm alive, I made it! But that, I believe was the turning point. That I was forced into situations that were uncomfortable, forced into speaking a different language to people who realistically had never seen anyone who wasn't Japanese before. And fuck yes it was awkward sometimes but when I came back to the UK, I felt totally different.

I felt that I could do this, without having my parent's hanging over me, waiting to detect the tiniest block, the smallest of repetitions, just so they could be all smug and say 'well that speech therapy was useless, you're not even using it'.

I felt like I could be a person, make my own decisions and do what I want. And with that freedom, it became less and less about my stammer and more about me.

That is why this TedTalk by Paul Gaskin, resonates with me.

I've had speech therapy, breathing exercises, coping mechanisms. I've had devices, sign language, even a band tied around my chest to control my breathing (which bloody hurt btw cos I had tits coming in).

Nothing works better, than just, letting go.

I am not cured. I never will be. I still stammer. And it's worse on some days, some weeks, more than others.

But that is not my problem.

It is the way I speak.

Stammering cannot be hammered out of a child, an adult. My parents could have flung all the speech therapy at me and it would not have changed a thing. But why does it need to be hammered out? Sure it might hurt my parents to watch me struggle, but how do they thing I feel?

Years in silence, tripping over words, verbally and physically abused, out of breath, facial ticks. It hurts me more than it hurts them.

I don't know if my stammer is neurological but does it matter? It's here now, and it's not going anywhere, contrary to popular belief. I'm still allowed to be frustrated, saddened and put down sometimes by it, because it's something that's been with me from day one.

That doesn't mean I've taken a step back.

My pictures above, refer to a moment, a pivotal one, where I was first aware I was different. It was a new school, and we were all introducing ourselves. And when I stammered, everyone laughed at me. And too anxious to cry outwardly, I stuffed my head into my jumper and cried as quietly as I could, until the class was over.

They're important pictures to keep, I think. To remind me of the little girl I was. I like to think I've made her proud.

But I'm proud of her.

Not only because of all she went through.

But because, when asked by the speech therapist how we could realistically ease the bullying (something she probably shouldn't have been asking me anyway 🙄), she responded with this.

Sorry for the long post. I need to get this off my chest every few years (and it's my blog I do what I like, jokes on you for reading this far lol).

Next year I hope to attend my first Stamma Fest. If this topic is something you've never thought about or something that interests you, I highly suggest you check out the Stamma website.

Thank you for coming to my (not) TedTalk.

#stammering #stuttering #stamma #stammering awareness day #Youtube