#formatting on tumblr is a nightmare | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Kazakhstan’s Minister of Communications and Informatics has blocked the Tumblr site because it contained 60 sites of terrorism, extremism, and pornography in 2015.

#formatting on tumblr is a nightmare

courtrecord · 2 years

Text

oh wow it’s an honor to know that tumblr is apparently playing a site-wide game of my very first ttrpg, post-popcorn

#goncharov #ttrpg #there’s alt text for the tweet & game text but tumblr’s alt text does not let u format like twitter’s so apologies if it’s a nightmare #omg me putting this in my 1k tag like what year is it #1k

15K notes · View notes

fayzart136 · 3 months

Text

Once upon a time, in a far off sector of a very old galaxy...

(I decided to put the design details in the alt text this time! Once again, genre mixing is very fun.)

closeups under the cut! Please tap/click for better quality and to see the full picture.

#artists on tumblr #sfw #ouatis #once upon a time in space #the mechanisms #the mechs #digital #lineup #art #formatting these is a NIGHTMARE tumblr doesnt like horizontal pics.

1K notes · View notes

wren-kitchens · 7 months

Text

guess who forgot they can post writing on tumblr againnn anyway this was bribery so stiff would watch rtc HKFHD

(this is part of the sniflins au! idk if it’s canon or not but it takes place in that world! the sniflins is an au by myself, @angeart @loveroped and @stiffyck !)

jimmy can feel scar smiling against his neck, nuzzling closer every so often, and his stomach fills with butterflies. his chest is filled with a fuzzy glow—a wonderful mix of both his own and scar’s happiness. he can no longer tell what emotion belongs to who, and it’s wonderful. under the lazy warmth of the afternoon sun, it’s as if there’s no one else in the world aside from them, and jimmy couldn’t be happier.

that idea is very abruptly disputed, as joel snores loudly from across the picnic blanket. jimmy stifles a laugh, and he can hear scar giggling quietly in his ear (which, for the record, might just be the best sound ever).

both grian and joel fell asleep a good ten minutes ago—grian almost fell face first into a cupcake, and joel dozed off midway through insisting that he was not going to fall asleep at all. scar and he have since concluded that it was the sniffer traits that made them so sleepy in comparison to them, and that they will never let either of them live this down.

“ruins the moment a bit, doesn’t it?” jimmy jokes quietly, if only to hear scar’s laugh again.

scar hums, the sound vibrating against jimmy’s skin. “well, I don’t know. doesn’t make you any less beautiful.”

jimmy feels his face burn in a way that is entirely unrelated to the sun. “oh my gosh.” he buries his head in his hands.

scar is laughing again, sitting up with the sole intention of making jimmy even more flustered, it seems. “oh, but you are! look at you!”

“I will hit you.” jimmy says, muffled through his palms.

“I don’t believe you.” scar teases, sing-song. “you love me too much.”

“I absolutely don’t.” jimmy says. even to his own ears, it sounds laughably false. but right now, he’s proving a point, so.. shut up.

scar presses a kiss to jimmy’s neck, and jimmy feels his face grow impossibly warmer. “oh yeah? now, unless our soulbound broke in the last few seconds, i’m fairly certain you do, sweetheart.”

and- whilst jimmy may not usually be the most forward person in the world, desperate times call for desperate measures. the desperate times in question being his immense flusteredness, and the desperate measures- well..

jimmy takes his hands away from his face, shifts to face scar, grabs his collar and pulls him into a kiss. scar is surprised initially, but melts into it almost immediately—that wonderful glow growing in jimmy’s chest.

and- wow. jimmy somehow manages to forget just how happy scar makes him—not that he’s complaining; it’s something of a fantastic surprise every time he remembers again. like right now, for instance. because scar’s hands are at jimmy’s waist and cupping his cheek, and he’s leaning ever further into the kiss, and jimmy can feel the thin scar that runs through scar’s bottom lips and it’s bliss.

they pull away to catch their breath, giggling breathlessly all the while, and jimmy takes the opportunity for payback. he peppers scar’s face in kisses, delighting as he laughs, and occasionally giving scar’s lips a teasing peck.

“point- point proven!” scar is saying, despite the fact that jimmy has considered stopping at least twice and each time scar whined until he kissed him again.

“mm, no, I don’t think it has.” jimmy grins. “I think I might have to kiss you forever, actually.”

“I mean-“ scar says, and jimmy cackles at the abrupt shift in his tone. “I wouldn’t object, per say-“

“you’re an idiot.” jimmy says, fond as anything. god, he loves this man so much.

scar beams, as if he knows exactly what jimmy is thinking. “I know.”

#god no wonder I don’t post here the formatting is a fucking nightmare #it’s not my fault that the indentations are messy blame tumblr #trafficshipping #scaridarity #therss another one i’m so sure #solidaritimes #THATS IT #snifflins au #jimmy solidarity #gtw scar #gtws #wren writes

213 notes · View notes

eirianerisdar · 2 days

Note

I'd love to hear something about The Ransom of the House of Fëanor! Any part of it you feel like.

Thanks for the ask!

Director's cut, from Chapter 2 of The Ransom of the House of Fëanor. For the uninitiated, The Ransom of the House of Fëanor is a canon-divergent AU set in the waning years of the Third age and the early years of the Fourth. Maglor runs east in the War of the Ring to warn Rivendell of approaching Balrogs out of the remnant of Angmar, and Elrond goes to the Ring of Doom to sue for the return of the House of Fëanor.

The following excerpt covers Glorfindel and the warriors of Rivendell fighting a losing battle at Bruinen, and Maglor's arrival.

======

The fire of the Balrogs had advanced, and Glorfindel and his companies leapt to meet it.

That had been five days ago.

Five days, and every step of ground given towards the Bruinen hard-fought; Glorfindel, his throat dry, his golden helm battered, his shield arm numb, had cleaved a Balrog’s head from its neck even as its war-hammer struck Asfaloth from under him.

He had heard Asfaloth scream, and Glorfindel’s heart had screamed with him. Glorfindel would have died then, with six orcs leaping at him curled there on the scorched grass, if his guards had not leapt in and hauled him clear.

There had been no time to grieve his faithful steed. The fire was coming.

It does not stop coming, not even now.

Most of the warriors of Rivendell are on foot now, their horses burned or killed or moved to the rearguard, even more exhausted than their riders. The Bruinen laps at Glorfindel’s ankles; they have been pushed back to the point of the ford.

He hears Lindir sing desperately beside him – young, kind-faced Lindir, who had been born after the Battle of the Last Alliance and only seen combat at Fornost as a youth.

Lindir is calling desperately on songs of old – ancient battle songs of Beleriand, which he must have only learned sung in the Hall of Fire – never with the rasp of blood between his teeth and the leaden weight of a sword in his hand.

Glorfindel raises his voice to sing with him, as do many of their ragged company, singing of star-flame and the might of the Noldor even as they are pushed back across Bruinen, even as the fires of the Balrogs send smoke to choke down the singers’ parched throats, and the song falters–

A new voice arises from the west, rich, golden and ringing with power, and the Balrogs pause at the edge of the river–

And out of the smoke and the flame and the burning trees by the Great East Road strides a figure out of memory, the light of the Trees blazing ancient from clear grey eyes, harpsong in his hands and a song of triumph on his lips.

Glorfindel would have thought he was dreaming, if the very air did not shiver to this new apparition’s voice.

Maglor son of Fëanor steps into the Bruinen beside Glorfindel as orcs flee up the curve of the northwest bank towards the Balrogs there.

“Hello,” Maglor says quite calmly. He has stopped singing for the moment, though his left hand plays ever-cascading silver notes from his harp that seem to press the flames back towards the orc-companies. “I would advise retreating to the southeast bank. The river is about to rise.”

Glorfindel stares at the golden helm, the silver scale-armour of the First Age in the style favoured by the Fëanorian smiths, and last of all at the thin-lipped mirthless smile of Maglor Fëanorion himself.

There is no time or space to think of kinslayings, of the remnant of Gondolin that had fallen to Fëanorian blades in Sirion. Glorfindel and Maglor move to the southeast bank of the Bruinen, the last of the Elven warriors scrambling wide-eyed and staring up beside them.

The first wave of orcs rally and wade into the ford, shouting foul words in the language of Sauron–

–Beside Glorfindel, Maglor tilts his head as though listening to something, a hint of pride curling at his lips–

–A roar from upstream, and Maglor, eyes aflame, raises his hand and brings it down on his harp and sings a word so powerful it sounds like thunder–

Water.

Foaming, roiling, thundering water, the river woken from sleep, flaring red and gold in the dusk light as it cleaves into the orcs at the river, burying them in foam and spray and current. Here and there in the white-capped waves the images of horses raise their heads, snorting noses and tossing manes in the maelstrom.

When the wave passes, the Balrogs on the opposite bank have retreated to the woods, standing there amongst the blazing trees with their remaining orc-host around them, watching, wary.

Glorfindel looks at the tall, dark-haired Elf beside him. He opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.

Maglor lowers his harp and smiles.

“Ahh, the horses were a nice touch,” he says. “Elrond really has outdone himself. I only added volume, you know.”

Glorfindel stares at him. The warriors around them are regrouping, seeing to the wounded, and though many stop to stare, the golden-haired captain and the raven-haired harpist stand mostly in a pocket of solitude.

“The songs said you’d faded away,” Glorfindel says after a moment. His hand tightens on his sword.

Maglor’s smile is sharp – far sharper than the last time Glorfindel had met him, Ages of the world ago at a feast in Tirion.

“I know,” Maglor says. “I wrote them. You can stop hefting your sword like I’m going to kill you now. There is no Silmaril here, and we have a common enemy.”

“Forgive me if I find it somewhat difficult to trust you,” Glorfindel says. “There are many who regret doing so. Most of them are dead.”

Maglor flinches, and Glorfindel should not be as pleased about that as he is.

The first Balrog steps out from under the trees across the river.

“I am here because the song of this Age is ending,” Maglor says quietly. “I know my wrongs cannot be changed. But I am here because I will not allow the forces of Sauron to enter Imladris. I am here because of Elrond.”

There is such a depth of sorrow and regret and longing in that last word that Glorfindel finds himself quite unable to retort. And now in this moment of quiet, he can see the exhaustion that pulls at the edge of the other’s gaze. Maglor son of Fëanor had stopped at nothing to come here, it seems.

“Come,” Glorfindel says, as the first Balrog steps into the ford, great hissing clouds of steam rising around its flaming foot. “It will be a long night, and your song will be needed.”

======

Director's commentary:

This is an example of one of my favourite techniques to use while writing large expanded set pieces: changing the camera's depth of frame and focus.

When I first planned this chapter of Ransom I considered how best to introduce Maglor, because while the introductory chapter was mostly from Maglor's POV, this section in chapter 2 comes after an increasingly desperate build-up from Glorfindel's POV as he cedes ground southwards towards Rivendell.

One thing Tolkien makes very clear in The Silmarillion is that the Elves that have seen the light of the Trees are different. The sons of Fëanor, especially, hold a part of his unshielded flame. I wanted to make Maglor's entrance hold all the significance that an Elf of his history and power could, and yet make the shadow of the kinslayings hang over this meeting. Maglor has killed Glorfindel's people in Sirion. Glorfindel knows this. But they must put that aside to defend Rivendell.

I framed this entire scene to be lit solely by the fire of the forest on the northwest bank of Brunien. Glorfindel and the warriors of Rivendell, pushed back to the Ford; Maglor, a conquering ghost striding out of flame.

The camera so far has been in a wide shot; the flaming trees, the river, the chilling demonstration of the power of Maglor's song. But the camera zooms in on Glorfindel and Maglor next; they have to work out their dynamic in a few short moments, because we as readers have to figure out their dynamic in the same amount of time, too. I approached this with a simple concept: There might be fury and bitterness and terrible memory here, but at their core Glorfindel and Maglor are warriors. Bitter and acerbic their humour might be, but they understand each other.

We also see for the first time an external POV of Maglor's motivations in the first part of this fic. He is here for Elrond. Nothing else could have brought him back into the narrative of Middle-Earth except for his son.

Glorfindel sees that. Glorfindel respects that.

And so, as the camera "zooms out" again in the next scene after this, readers understand why Glorfindel and Maglor can work so well together, and what motivates Maglor's character. This is an example of why I always find it important to frame each scene in a close or expanded view, because we get moments of character development and understanding this way.

Thanks for the ask!

Send me an ask with a scene or set of lines from any of my fics and I'll give you a director's commentary! Or, send in a ⭐star⭐ to have me select a section I've been dying to talk about!

#replies #the silmarillion #writing #fanfic #glorfindel #maglor #maglor feanorion #lord of the rings #lotr #my post #the ransom of the house of fëanor #this was a nightmare to format tumblr didn't like me indenting anything

14 notes · View notes

sealrock · 6 months

Text

decembhyur, day 14: water

I have a recurring dream of hector, and paris is not in it. I dream of him frozen in a moment in time that forces me to relive the heartache and terror I put him through. he's separated from me by water; at times it appears to be a lake, and other times an ocean. I hear the roar of waves and the wind chill against my face, but hector does not move from his spot. I cannot discern if he says anything to me during these moments. he just stands there, away from me, just like before. he looks so small and fragile marooned out there, and yet I cannot save him. as I stand firmly rooted in place, as I've done so many times before, a heavy fog begins to roll over the tide. it engulfs everything in its path, including hector. my voice seizes, a lump forms in my throat as I watch him vanish before my eyes. I feel hot tears mixed with kohl race down and stain my cheeks, and still, I cannot speak. I cannot cry. I cannot scream. all I can do is stand there, just like I've always done before, suddenly so helpless and useless in the face of a horror of my own making. I failed him. I pushed him aside so callously when he needed me the most. he will always be here, trapped by ever-flowing water. I cannot reach him… not anymore. — ♫

#decembhyur #decembhyur2023 #i hate tumblr formatting btw #you guys have NO idea how hard this prompt was for me. i agonized over this for 4 days straight because i was drawing blanks #but then the omori ost gave me inspiration #i know i said i wasn't gonna include hector in this but i needed angst and some mildly creepy vibes #andi has this nightmare because she feels guilty over not listening and helping hector when he was showing signs of a mental breakdown #she wanted things to be just like before where everything was right in the world #but in the end she distanced herself from him and ended up being the cause of halmarut possessing him #sidenote: paris rarely appears in andi's dreams because she doesn't think about them. her own child #she assumed that paris would be safe and sound with cassandra and have a semi-normal life. well she thought Wrong #q.#mygposes.#ffxivsnaps #gposers #ffxiv gpose #ffxiv oc #hyur

24 notes · View notes

maybankiara · 6 months

Text

MISTER, I'LL TAKE HER ROSES

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera summary: JJ offers to pick up Kiara from the airport, despite only having spoken to her once before, years ago. Long drives, country music, diner burgers, and some sunsets await for them. w/c: 7k a/n: i have returned from the dead with this. jj-centric, as i tend to write, and some fluff sprinkled in with pining, of course, because it's jiara we're talking about. masterlist | tag list read on archive of our own

It's situations like these that JJ gets himself into, then regrets, purely because of one thing: his mouth is quicker than his brain.

And boy, does JJ Maybank love to put himself at other people's expense.

With one hand on the wheel and the other hanging outside the driver's window of his pickup truck ( Baby , he calls it, because she's his everything), JJ sings along to some Zak Brown song that's playing on the radio, and wonders how the fuck did he manage to find himself driving for hours, away from the setting sun, with a bouquet of roses in his backseat for a girl he hadn't thought of in years.

The song changes to a Kylie Morgan one and he turns it down, just a little bit. Another pickup truck passes him -- it's the first sign of life he'd seen for miles. Charleston is still some time away, and JJ's got nothing but time to kill.

Four hours ago, he was dropping off fresh packages of beef mince in the back of The Wreck. He was wearing his oil-stained sweatpants because all the others were in the wash, and he wasn't wearing a top, because it was one of those days that burn into your skin if you're not careful enough. He's just lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you look at it) that his skin's been burnt enough it doesn't change anymore.

'You're kidding,' said Mike, the owner, speaking into the phone he held to his face with more ferocity than JJ would've been comfortable with if he was on the other end of the line. 'I can't have that ready for tomorrow morning.'

JJ passed him and placed another box in the warehouse, wiping the sweat off his brow. He gave a wave to Cleo, one of the servers, who was helping him move stuff to the fridge.

'Your boss is having a bad day,' he said.

Cleo scoffed. 'He's always having a bad day.'

'No, like, really .'

They both stood in their place for a few moments as Mike argued outside, something about accounts and a tax return that didn't seem to be correct.

JJ pointed a thumb over his back, in Mike's direction. 'That's why I don't have an office job.'

'Or own a shop,' said Cleo.

'Exactly. You good to get the rest?'

'Mhm, I'll get this to the fridge, you bring the last over and I'll get it signed off if Mike can't.'

'Ha. Think he's a bit too busy for that.'

JJ went past Mike again (he was talking about having something important to do tonight which was why the whole thing was an even bigger issue) and brought the remaining two boxes out of the Heyward truck. His truck, in a way -- despite him saying to Cleo he doesn't want to own a shop or have an office job, things were headed in that direction, with Heyward having the vision of both expanding the trade to the other islands in the Outer Banks and leaving the shop to JJ and Pope to handle.

It was a lot to think about. Meaning, JJ wanted nothing to do with it, right now.

He scooped up the boxes and nodded at Mike in the passing ('I've planned everything to pick her up tonight. I'm not leaving her waiting for me for this. It's important---No, you listen to me !') and brought the last to Cleo, all the way to the fridge.

'Who's he picking up tonight?'

'You need to stop being up in everybody's business.' Cleo took the boxes from him and stood all the way on her tiptoes to reach the highest shelf. 'It's Kiara. She's coming back from the Bahamas, or wherever she was doing her environmental stuff.'

'Oh. Kiara,' JJ said, letting the name wash over his tongue. 'I hadn't thought of her in years.'

Cleo threw a glance at the door, where all JJ could see was Mike's hand waving up and down as if the person on the phone could see him. She leaned over, checking that none of the other staff are within the hearing range, and said: 'Rumour has it that she's cut all ties with her family for years and is now coming back, tail between her legs.'

JJ scoffed. That didn't sound like the Kiara he knew, so he said that. Cleo just shrugged, reminding him that she'd moved to Kildare right before Kiara left. Anything could be true, if you asked her.

He liked to think he knew better.

With that being the last of the boxes, JJ bid his farewell to his kind-of-friend. She had signed off the paperwork for the restaurant, but JJ still needed a signature from Mike, seeing as he was the most senior person here. This is, in JJ's opinion, the very moment that got him into this situation.

He overheard little bits before that, but standing next to Mike as he signed off the paperwork while talking to the person on the phone, JJ couldn't help but to listen in. He also happened to piece it all together, even if against his will.

Kiara Carrera was returning to Kildare after years away, tonight, in Charleston, and now there was no one to pick her up.

So JJ said, interrupting Mike mid-sentence: 'Sir, I can pick her up.'

Mike covered the bottom of the phone (too old to know how to mute) and asked JJ to repeat himself. JJ did, so Mike asked what he's on about.

'I've got nothing to do after this, and my truck's big enough to get a fair amount of suitcases in, if you need. And I've also got no plans for the evening.'

'Just to be clear,' Mike said. 'You're offering to drive all the way to Charleston to pick Kiara up?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Her plane lands at quarter to midnight.'

'That's alright, Sir.'

'And you're okay with that.'

'Yes, Sir.'

Mike frowned. 'Why?'

All JJ could do was shrug. 'Got nothing better to do.'

And that was it -- he had nothing better to do. It was the truth, because Pope was off on holiday, and the only plans he had for the evening consisted of eating leftover pizza and watching whatever's new on Netflix. Driving to Charleston was miles better than that. Hell, he hadn't even left the island in over a year, feels like.

But, yeah. A part of him was curious about the rumour. And a part of him was wondering how Kiara Carrera's life turned out, because not a lot of people make it off the island and those that do, they don't come back.

But she did. And that was enough for JJ.

After agreeing to the plan and finalising the details, including texting Kiara that it'd be JJ picking her up (which she wouldn't get until she landed, anyway), Mike went to his car. He returned with a bouquet of roses.

Now, JJ doesn't know anything about roses, but they damn sure make his car smell nice. They're the expensive kind, he can tell, because they're vibrant and big and the bow they're wrapped with is some fancy material he doesn't know the name off. He can see them in the backseat, taunting him, asking him why he's doing this.

A Warren Zeiders song comes on. Some Whiskey , JJ thinks it's called. He knows some of the words.

He doesn't know the answer.

JJ makes a pit stop about halfway to Charleston, to fill up his tank. Lots of shady people there, he found, watching the numbers to go up. A guy in a cowboy hat and Doc Martens, as well as some girl on her phone who looks very pissed off, in outfit too revealing for this kind of autumn weather. JJ thinks about offering her a lift, but something about the snark of her lip makes him rethink that.

In the end, he goes up to pay and returns with a Reese's chocolate bar and some Hershey's. The girl's still there and the guy with the cowboy hat is gone, an elderly trucker in his place.

It's easy for JJ forget that there's a world outside of Kildare.

The road ahead of him is the same as the half he's left behind. Occasional lights coming from the other direction, but the road's straight with nothing adorning its sides, nothing for him to look at aside from the sky changing colours in his rearview mirror.

He thinks about Kiara.

It's been years since he'd seen her last. It was senior prom at the Kook Academy, and he was only there because some girl asked him to be her prom date. She was rich, hot, and they were having an afterparty at Sarah Cameron's, so obviously he was going to go for the free booze.

He doesn't even remember the name of the girl he was with. They weren't even dating, she just wanted to piss of her parents, and JJ was always down for that.

Kiara, on the other hand...

He throws a glance at the roses in the back. Her dad probably doesn't know, but for a while after that night, JJ would think of her whenever he saw roses, be it in a bouquet or still growing, in the wild.

(But the rose bush always reminded him of her more. Something about the untamed potential...)

He left his date to go out for a smoke. His best mate, John B, was eating Sarah Cameron's face somewhere in the shadows behind the school, even though she'd come there with Topper Thornton, but JJ didn't care much about the drama.

'Smoking's bad for you,' came a voice from behind him.

The girl sat down on the bench next to him, half hidden in what little light fell from the school porch, and took the joint out of his hand.

And put it to her lips.

'Hypocrite,' JJ said, with no bite.

She just shrugged. 'I like it. I just know it's bad.'

With a puff, she handed the joint back to him, and JJ felt like they'd made a silent promise to pass it back and forth, so they did.

Eventually, he stopped smoking, and he'd never seen her smoke before or after again. Sometimes, back when this was recent, he'd wonder if she pretended to smoke just to speak to him, then remember that she did it a little too easily for that to be true.

'Not enjoying the party?'

She leaned back against the bench, smiling a little. 'It's not bad. Just needed to step outside for a moment.'

'And for some free weed.'

'Eh. Doesn't hurt.'

She smiled at him and he offered her another one. She put it to her lips and leaned forward, waiting patiently as he brought his Zippo to it. Her eyes bore into his, even in the darkness, and he wondered what she thought of him -- a Pogue, sharing a joint with a Kook.

He'd spent the whole night feeling like a beggar in the king's clothing, until now. In the darkness, the clothing wasn't what mattered.

She inhaled and closed her eyes before exhaling a moment later. JJ watched her, a little too closely -- the pouted lips as the smoke blew out, the curve of her nose, the fullness of her cheek. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard bun with strands falling out, outlining her face, even in the dark.

Even in the dark, JJ Maybank knew he ain't never seen someone so pretty his whole damn life.

Kiara passed the joint to him. 'It's rude to stare.'

'Can't help it.'

She just laughed.

Behind them, he heard Sarah Cameron laugh, too. He turned just in time to see her running across the lawn with John B in hand -- the same John B who swore to him they were over not too long ago, but JJ knew it wasn't true, and didn't resent his friend for it.

'Thought she was with Topper,' said Kiara.

JJ sighed. 'Don't ask me anything.'

'Alright.'

The joint swapped owners again. She crossed her legs and the slit on the red dress exposed her all the way to the top of her thigh, and JJ couldn't take his eyes off of her.

'I don't think I've ever spoken to you,' she said.

'You're never on the wrong side of the island.'

'Maybe I always am.'

'Mhm.' JJ nudged her. 'That joint's hitting you.'

She smiled, but didn't say anything.

They passed the joint back and forth until it ran out and JJ stubbed the butt of it into the ground and, when questioned, explained he doesn't care about this side of the island enough to protect its environment. It made Kiara laugh and he decided he'd like to do that again. Make her laugh again.

So he said, 'Wanna get out of here?'

She quirked her brow, so he clarified: 'Not like that. Just a walk.'

'Sure.'

Turned out she was in heels, which he should've anticipated, and walking on grass made her wobbly. She held upright as much as she could as they followed the same path Sarah and John B took earlier, but he stuck his elbow out after a while, and she wrapped her arm around it.

'Better?'

'Better,' she agreed. 'Thanks.'

She didn't let go of him when they got to the pavement, and he didn't make an attempt to get rid of her. In fact, he straightened his posture, remembering what Big John had told him: When in the presence of a lady, always choose to be a man, not a boy.

He had a feeling he was doing a decent enough job.

'So what's next for you?'

'Travelling the world,' Kiara said.

'All of it?'

'All of it.'

'Well, Ma'am,' said JJ, 'I hope you all of it is waiting for you.'

She laughed again. JJ felt like he won a prize at a carnival.

They passed the lawn, hearing hushed whispers of two lovers still hiding in the shadows. Both he and Kiara ignored them, but exchanged a conspiratorial glance. As far as he knew, she was as close to Sarah Cameron as she was to John B, and this sure as hell was a story to tell.

They ventured into the garden that led to the PE hall because of course, their school was going to have a garden. It was lit by a few dimmed lights, which surprised JJ -- but at this side of the island, the electricity bill probably wasn't even top fifteen of anyone's concerns.

'What about you?' she asked. 'What's next?'

'Nothing,' he said. 'Just more of the same, just no school.'

'You got a job?'

He nodded. 'I work for my friends' dad. Delivering merch and groceries to shop, that kind of stuff.'

'Heyward?'

'The one and only.'

She smiled. 'My dad gets his stuff from him, for The Wreck. I might see you around.'

'You might.'

They passed a bush of carnations, and JJ paused for a moment. They were pink and blooming; smelled like the bright moments of his childhoods.

He felt Kiara at his side, asking without words.

'Carnations were my mum's favourite flowers.'

'She has a good taste.'

He swallowed the lump in his throat. 'She did.'

Kiara's hand moved across his, gently, as if soothing him. 'I prefer roses. Cliche, I know,' she added as he chuckled. 'You just know there'll be in every shop, and everyone gives roses first. It's kind of nice.'

'Fair enough, I suppose.'

They walked further, not talking. JJ found himself enjoying her company and the feeling of her on his arm. The dress she wore revealed her leg every so often and it took all in him not to look, not to stare, not to fantasise. But he didn't. He really didn't.

Instead, when they approached a rose bush, he plucked a rose off it.

'For the most beautiful lady this evening.'

Kiara took it with a chuckle. 'Charming.'

'Funny. That's actually my middle name.'

She brought the rose to her nose and closed her eyes as she smelled it, and JJ felt like every single decision he'd made in this life led him to this very moment.

There was no street light reaching this corner of the garden, nothing bar the moonlight. Nothing but the silver gleam shining on Kiara's content face; he wondered what she was thinking about.

'Thank you,' she said, opening her eyes with a smile. 'It's a lovely rose.'

'You're most welcome, Ma'am.'

She kissed him on the cheek. He wondered if she was drunk, but it might've been the joint, and he didn't care.

'We should head back,' she said, wrapping her arm around his again. 'People might start wondering where we are.'

'Sure,' he said, when he wanted nothing more but to stay here, with her.

The walk back was quiet. Jj knew there was nothing waiting for him there, because his date must've found someone else to entertain her, and John B would likely be preoccupied with Sarah Cameron until it was time to go home.

When they got back to the porch, she tugged gently at his arm. 'I keep seeing you around, but I never got your name.'

He grinned. 'We're not all popular enough for people to know our names like you, Miss Carrera.'

'I'll blame it on Sarah.'

'Rightfully so,' he said. 'It's JJ. JJ Maybank.'

'Well, then,' she said, untangling their arms, 'thank you for keeping me company, JJ Maybank.'

'My pleasure.'

She smiled again, that mischieviously polite little smile of hers, and led them back into the hall. She joined her friends and he made his way back to his table, where his glass had been refilled by his date, and he knew it would be alcohol without even looking.

He didn't see Kiara again until she was leaving, giving him a small wave. Her arm was interlinked with Sarah Cameron's, as it was, and sure enough, there was a rose tucked into her hair.

JJ waved back.

It was the last he'd ever seen of Kiara Carrera.

Until now, anyway, he thinks as he turns off the engine, parks about a two minute walk from the airport. He has nothing with him apart from his car keys, phone, wallet, and a bouquet of roses.

It feels like life was playing a silly joke on him, and he's waiting for the right moment to laugh.

The airport is as quiet as he expected it to be at this time of night. There are a few people waiting, presumably for people from the same flight as Kiara, some of them with massive signs with names written on them.

JJ likes looking at people. He likes trying to figure out if they've made it in life, or at least if they think they have. He wonders if that guy wearing a full three-piece that looks too perfectly fitted to be out of a cheap shop thinks he has it all figured out. He wonders if he's waiting for a wife, a family member, or a business partner. There's also a guy with a young child sleeping in his arms -- the girl can't be more than five, six years old. Whoever it is they're waiting for, they must have a lot of good things going for them. JJ knows kids don't have patience for things like these unless they really want to.

The plane lands -- it says so on the big screen. JJ's sitting on the bench, knowing it'll be a while before Kiara comes out. He wonders if he should've written a sign, or if she'll recognise him. It's been a few years, but he's still as scruffy as he was when he was a teenager, even if he changed into jeans and a t-shirt before he came to get her.

He thinks about what to say -- does he explain why he's here, first thing? Does he ask about the flight?

It's only now that he's realising he hasn't thought this far ahead and now he's too stressed out to do so. He's mad at himself for offering to do this, because he still needs to drive home, and sure he had a few energy drinks on the way and a few more waiting in the car, but man. He really should've thought this through.

The luggage has arrived, or so says the screen.

JJ gets up and so do most of the people who spent the last few minutes on the benches. He feels his palms getting sweaty as he holds the roses.

People start walking through. He realises he doesn't know what Kiara looks like -- it's not like they follow each other on social media. What if he doesn't recognise her? If she doesn't recognise him, either, and they're just dumbly walking around the airport, looking for the other and not knowing they're just there?

Thoughts keep running through his head and he wishes he brought headphones, but it's too late now. She'll be here any moment now.

The guy shakes the little girl and she wakes up, running up to a woman in her early thirties as if she wasn't asleep less than a minute ago. It draws a smile out of both the guy and JJ.

The door opens, but it's not Kiara. It opens again, but it's not her -- it's an older gentleman in a suit and, rightfully so, he walks up to the other man in the suit.

The door opens and JJ sees suitcases first -- two of them, both big, and a backpack on top of one.

And then he sees the same haphazard bun he saw that night. Except the fancy red dress that kept him up for more nights than he'd like to admit has been swapped out for a sweater and joggers, and there was no makeup on her face.

Yet even so, JJ would still give her the rose for the most beautiful lady tonight.

He starts approaching the line as her eyes scanned the crowd. When their gazes meet, he knew she recognises him, even if the confusion between her brows takes him aback. Has she not read the text from her father?

Something's clearly up when Kiara's eyes move past him, still looking around the crowd, frowning deeper as she doesn't recognise anyone.

'Kiara,' he calls, approaching her. She doesn't hear, or react, so he calls again and when she finally looks, he smiles at her. 'I'm picking you up. Your dad texted you.'

Kiara chuckles, raising her phone -- the screen is fully cracked. 'Yeah, not getting anything from this poor thing.'

She's finally out of the gate and he takes her suitcases, not even waiting for her to ask (or say no, more likely). JJ starts making his way out of the airport and he's glad to see her following, even if she's half in a daze.

'What happened to it?'

She rubs her nose, and he realises her eyes are a little bloodshot. 'Dropped it getting off the plane. Ran my suitcase over it. End of.'

'That's some bad karma you've got there. You didn't get to check your phone before that?'

'Nope.' She looks around as they exit the airport and the wind blows on her face, sweeping the hairs around it. 'It's colder than I remember.'

'That's global warming for you,' JJ says. 'I'm parked just there.'

'How am I meant to know you're not kidnapping me?'

JJ laughs, and only then realises she's being at least partially serious. He lets go of the suitcases and reaches underneath his armpit, where he'd squished the bouquet, because of course he'd forgiven to actually give it to her.

So he gives it to her now -- a bouquet of roses.

(Wonders if she's thinking about the same night he is.)

'Your dad bought you these,' he says, 'so I said I'll take your roses.'

The frown dissipates and Kiara is smiling as she takes the flowers. JJ wishes he could take a picture, but takes the suitcases instead.

'Well, that explains the flowers, at least.' He hears her footsteps behind him, so he keeps walking to the car. 'Doesn't explain why you're here, of all people.'

'Well, I offered.'

'Why?'

'I had nothing better to do.'

'And that's just it?'

JJ opens the trunk. 'Do you always ask that many questions?'

She shrugs, and he's thinking of that night again. 'Usually.'

'Well, I drove here, and I'm about to drive back, and I don't really have extra time on my hands, so save the questions for the road.'

'No need to be so bossy,' she retorts, but she's getting into his truck alright.

He thinks about how she didn't even offer to help with the suitcases. Not that he minds, he wouldn't take her help even if she insisted, it's just not quite what he'd expect from the Kiara he knew, the feminist warrior known across the island.

But when he opens his door to get into the truck and the half-working light shines on her face, he can tell she's exhausted.

'Wanna grab something to eat?' JJ twists the key and the engine roars to life. 'There's a few diners on the way.'

'Are you hungry?'

'Starving.'

She smiles. 'Okay.'

They don't talk much after that. JJ drives them out of the parking lot and manoeuvres out of the Charleston post code via the scenic route. There's not much to be seen, but the odd street light and sets of suburbs in the distance are better than the straight road with nothing to it. There's gas stations and diners, sure---he wasn't lying about being hungry---but apart from it, the moon is their only acquaintance.

He lets her fiddle with the radio after she called her dad from his phone. He promised her not to judge her taste, so when she puts reggae on, he convinces himself to enjoy it, instead.

Kiara leans her head on the headrest. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her fingers tapping the rhythm on her things, and he wonders if she's a dancer. Surely she would be one.

'Thanks, JJ,' she says. 'For doing this when my dad couldn't.'

He shrugs. 'S'alright. I'm more surprised you remember my name.'

'You're not that easy to forget, you know.'

He laughs. 'You flatter me too much.'

He looks over and she's looking out of the window, the runaway strands shielding parts of her face from him. He wonders if she's telling the truth, or even what she meant by it---if she meant anything, that is---then decides to stop at the next diner he sees. Nothing good's come from an empty stomach and right now, there's two of those in the truck.

It’s less than ten minutes later that he pulls up at a 50’s-looking diner. He sees the question on Kiara’s face and promises her they’re not getting murdered here, though her eyes keep checking every corner on their way into the place. The bell chimes and the teenage guy at the till looks at them, but the two people sitting at each their own table pay them no mind.

‘Smells nice,’ says JJ.

Kiara hums in agreement.

They find a booth close to the entrance, even if that means having the cold breeze if someone walks in. JJ doubts it—it’s nearly three o’clock—and thinks Kiara will feel more comfortable if they’re close to the way out. Just in case. Even though her shoulders are more relaxed now and she’s throwing less glances in the way of the other two customers, JJ would rather have her feel as comfortable and safe as possible.

He slides the menu across. ‘Have whatever you want. It’s on me.’

‘Shouldn’t it be on me?’ she asks, eyeing the menu. ‘You picked me up.’

‘Doesn’t work that way.’

‘Hm?’

‘Just– It’s on me,’ JJ says, then nods at the menu. ‘Pick soon. The guy’s wanting to come over.’

She glances at the till and he knows she made eye contact with the guy, because she averts her eyes as soon as she does so. She barely even glances at the menu before he says her order—a burger and a milkshake—and two minutes later, JJ orders for both of them. Kiara’s slumped against the wall, tapping her fingers while simultaneously looking like she’s half asleep, staring out of the window where they could see nothing but a singular street light, shining over JJ’s truck, a minivan, and a bike.

JJ studies her, even though he’s not trying to. She looks older and more tired, with lightened hair at the tips that must’ve grown out, but he’s surprised just how little hse’s really changed.

‘It’s rude to stare,’ she says, with no bite to it.

‘Not much else to look at,’ he says. ‘Nothing worth looking at, anyway.’

It makes her chuckle. ‘Still charming as ever.’

‘You bet.’

He waits to see if she’ll pick up the conversation, and she doesn’t. The waiter comes and gives them a cup of coffee each, but Kiara doesn’t touch hers. Jetlag, she explains – she needs to get through it naturally.

‘Where did you come from?’ he asks. ‘You couldn’t have a jetlag from Washington, so that must’ve been a layover.’

‘Bahamas,’ she says.

‘Was it nice?’

‘Sure.’

‘How long were you there for?’

‘Do you always ask that many questions?’

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.’

A moment passes and her lip quivers—JJ feels like he said something wrong—and then she buries her head in her hands, before sighing loudly. ‘It’s my fault,’ she says, tucking some strands behind her ears. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just tired.’

‘That��s alright,’ he says, sipping on his coffee. ‘We don’t need to talk if you’re not wanting to.’

‘It’s not that. It’s probably better if we do, it’ll keep me up.’ She sighs and leans back, letting herself sink into the seat a little, making her crewneck sweater scrunch around her neck. ‘I just feel a little drunk and I’m scared of saying the wrong thing.’

‘Like what?’

‘Cheeky,’ she says, but smiles nonetheless. She yawns and rubs her eyes, sighing a little. ‘You still friends with John B?’

‘Close as ever.’

‘Are him and Sarah still a thing?’

John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron are, as always, a complicated thing – and JJ embarks on a story that spans years after the prom night, and as it turns out, years since Kiara has last had contact with anyone from the island, including her best friend at the time. He tells her of Sarah joining their adventures, about the search for gold and a long-lost crucifix that turned out to be a Heyward family heirloom, but makes it sound more adventurous than it was. Her eyes are slightly glazed and she hums and nods in all the right places, but she’s not really listening, or at least absorbing what he’s saying. He says at one point that John B’s dad came back from the dead and she just nods in response, so JJ doesn’t even bother pretending he’s telling the truth anymore.

It’s fun. He comes up with a story and Kiara’s asleep with her eyes open, and he doesn’t really mind.

The smell of their food wakes her up. The waiter’s a little clumsy as he puts it in front of them, and Kiara’s sinking her teeth into her burger before he’s even gone.

She moans. JJ tries not to picture her doing that in a different context.

‘Good?’

‘This is the best burger I’ve ever had,’ she says, moaning again. Her eyes widen and she covers her mouth. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.’

JJ waves her off. ‘Good food will do that to you.’

He eats his burger, too, but it’s really just average. He doesn’t say that – lets her believe it really is the best burger in the world, even as she leaves a very detailed review on Google. He watches her come back to life as the carbs start to hit and the glaze leaves her eyes. She moves more as she talks, asks more questions about Kildare and the things she’s missed, and JJ finds himself enjoying talking about the place he'd spent the majority of his life wishing he could get out of.

‘I’ve missed it,’ she says, sipping on the strawberry milkshake while JJ enjoys his chocolate one. ‘I never thought I’d say that.’

‘Kildare?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Eh. It grows on you, I suppose.’

‘Most places do,’ she says. ‘I was in the Bahamas for the last six months and it’s been a whirlwind. Europe, before that, and Asia was the first destination.’

JJ smiles. ‘So you’ve really travelled all of the world.’

Kiara smiles, too, and he wonders if she’s thinking the same thing – from the darkness on her cheeks, he supposes she is. ‘All of it.’

‘So, what’s it like?’

And she tells him everything. He watches as she bodies the stories, as the names of people she’s met come back to her, and glaze in her eyes goes away as the carbs hit in. She’s a good storyteller, turns out, and he’s a lot better at listening than she was not too long ago. He learns about the catacombs of Paris, of the high altitudes of Nepal, about the alpacas and the camels, about the way a dust storm can seep through the tiniest of cracks in fabrics.

She keeps talking even when they get to the car, some half hour later, and he doesn’t stop her. Country music is back on the radio, but just as background noise this time, and JJ listens to the stories about her travels even when the dark gives way to the faintest orange, and a new day is being born.

She’ll get tired eventually, and she’ll crash. He knows the gig.

He slows the car not too far from where they’re to take the ferry back to the island, but still too far from any light to reach him. Kiara stops talking but doesn’t ask questions as he pulls up on the side of the road and does a 180 with his truck. From the back, he grabs a blanket and some candies he’d forgotten he put there, and asks her to follow him.

‘This isn’t the part where I kill you,’ he tells her.

‘Good,’ she retorts. ‘Was kind of enjoying myself.’

‘Well,’ he says, hopping out of the truck with her following suit, ‘you’re about to be enjoying yourself a whole lot more.’

He doesn’t apologise for the innuendo, and it makes her laugh.

He sets the blanket on the back of his truck and even though it’s still kind of dirty, he hopes she doesn’t mind – she doesn’t give any sign that she does. He sits down, then, stretching his legs down the back of the truck, and she does the same, leaning against the back of the cabin.

‘What are we doing, JJ?’

He smiles at her. ‘What’s the last time you watching the sun rise in the middle of nowhere? In the States.’

She closes her mouth, because he knew she was going to say in the desert , and then she huffs. ‘I can’t remember.’

‘You’re about to, then.’

Kiara says nothing, but he can feel her relax. Her arm’s right up against his and they face east, watching the sky bask in shades of orange and gold and red, little by little. JJ doesn’t know when’s the last time he watched the sunrise, either, and it’s a much better view from here than the road.

Birds wake up, too, chirping away. It’s too early for cars and JJ feels like the silence of the world is around them – nothing but them.

He looks over, and Kiara’s eyes are trained on the sky. Her face is relaxed and he wonders what she’s thinking about, but doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to break the spell. He just watches her, again, but she doesn’t call him out on it this time. She’s beautiful in a way that the word was made for her – the golden hour makes her glow, tired as she is.

JJ feels a sudden urge to kiss her forehead. He doesn’t, but the thought doesn’t go away.

The day brightens and the sun comes out soon enough. By that time, Kiara’s eyes have closed, and her head dropped to JJ’s shoulder. He knows they should get going, and he’s got some energy drinks to get through, but he doesn’t feel tired. He feels alive .

Truth is, that night never left his mind. She was in the back of it, hiding, waiting. The connection and the familiarity he felt that night came rushing back, and it feels like it’s not basically a stranger that’s falling asleep on his shoulder, that he’s watching the sun rise with, that he’s driven for hours to pick up.

Not a stranger. Just Kiara.

He taps her on the shoulder, gently, and tells her that they need to get going when she wakes up. JJ walks her to the car, fastens the belt, and her eyes are only half open. He turns on the heating and switches to a local radio station that plays calmer music in the mornings as they get back on the road. Whenever he glances over, Kiara’s eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful. He doesn’t even wake her up when they get on the ferry, nor does he leave the car, either.

Driving around Kildare feels familiar in the mornings, so JJ has no issue with it, even on Figure Eight. He finds her house easily enough, and pulls up without waking her. He thinks about getting Mike to come get her, but something about that feels like he’s losing out on something. On time with her, maybe.

What happens when he gets back into his truck and drives away? Is it going to be another prom night, where they never speak again, not for years, anyway?

The thought of that makes his chest ache.

JJ leaves the truck and grabs the suitcases from the back. He sets them out on the porch, wondering if Mike and Anna are even up. He gets back to the truck and opens the passenger door, but Kiara still doesn’t wake.

He calls her name. Nothing. He gives her a gentle nudge, and that gets a movement out of her, but not enough.

‘Kiara,’ he says. ‘You’re home.’

Her eyes open and they’re focused on him and only him for a full second, and JJ feels bare. She notices the house, then, and he watches as she becomes nervous again.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ he tells her. ‘I don’t know what happened between you and your parents, but you’re good. They’ve missed you.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Kiara.’

She looks back at him.

JJ gives her another nudge. ‘You’re going to charm them, no matter what.’

It makes her smile, and JJ feels like a winner again.

She thanks him for driving her, for picking her up, even though it was her dad who asked him to – or her dad that JJ offered to do so. She’s stalling, he can tell, but he lets her. Helps her get out of the truck. Walks up with her to the stairs, with her arm around hers, just like that night – the only thing she’s got in her hands is the roses, and he wishes he was the one getting them for her.

Next time, he thinks. But there’s no guarantee of that.

As they stand in front of her door, Kiara doesn’t ring the bell. Her hand tightens the hold on JJ’s arm and he feels her shaking, ever so slightly. She chalks it up to sleeplessness—the sun is now well over the horizon—but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

‘Do you want me to come in with you?’

She frowns. ‘Do you know my parents that well?’

‘Not really,’ he admits, ‘but if having someone there makes it easier for you…’

Kiara’s face breaks out into a tired smile and she gives his arm a squeeze. He watches her as she leans forward and plants a kiss on his cheek – a firm one, purposeful, and JJ feels his whole body set ablaze.

‘You’ve already done more than enough,’ she says. ‘Thank you.’

‘It’s nothing,’ he says, and his voice hitches.

‘It’s not nothing. I don’t even know how to thank you properly.’

‘It’s fine. Your dad’s already given me money for it.’

She tilts her head. ‘I’m sure he didn’t include you treating me to a burger and a really pretty sunrise in that.’

‘No,’ JJ chuckles, ‘but I wanted to. That’s on me.’

‘JJ.’ Kiara calls his name again and squeezes his arm one more time, until he’s finally looking at her. ‘I don’t even know how to thank you properly.’

And in a moment of opportunity, exhaustion, and just enough courage, JJ says: ‘Go for dinner with me.’

‘Dinner,’ she repeats.

‘Dinner.’

‘Hm. That doesn’t sound too bad.’

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ JJ feels his shoulder relax—when did they even tense?—and he gives her a little nudge. ‘You ready to see your family again?’

He offers to ring the bell on her behalf and she takes it. They end up standing there, hand in arm, until there’s rushed footsteps coming from the inside and it’s Mike that opens the door, practically engulfing Kiara into a hug.

JJ sees that as his cue. He waves at the two and Mike thanks him again, but JJ doesn’t stay long enough to hear any more offers of gratitude – he already got the one he wanted. Back in his truck, his Baby, he scrolls on his phone to see Kiara has already requested to follow him on Instagram. He accepts and follows back and within minutes, there’s a text from her:

looking forward to that dinner x

And just like that, JJ's life has become thrilling again.

#jiara #obx #outer banks #obx fic #jiara fic #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #my fic #f: obx #s: jiara #ngl the formatting is doing my head in and i apologise but using tumblr on my tblaet is an actual nightmare #but i have no other optiono

22 notes · View notes

aquato-family-circus · 2 years

Text

Another round of bob/helmut sketches I’ve posted elsewhere but not here, yet

I love quiet little moments... good for the soul

full image descriptions under the cut

ID #1: A greyscale illustration of Bob holding Helmut in his arms as Helmut deals with a panic attack. He looks distraught, with tears in the corners of his eyes, and anything that he’s saying is represented by large unorganized black speech balloons that are rimmed in chaotic rainbow light. End ID.

ID #2: A greyscale illustration of Bob holding Helmut in his arms as Helmut sleeps, his head resting on Bob’s shoulder. Multicolored figments of Z’s float above Helmut’s head as he sleeps. Bob is rubbing his thumb across the back of Helmut’s hand, and Helmut’s cheeks are stained to indicate he had been crying beforehand. End ID.

ID #3: Two greyscale sketches. On the top of the page Helmut's van is stopped at a red light of an intersection. On the bottom of the page Helmut is sitting at the drivers seat with one hand at the wheel, looking tired. Bob is sleeping in the passenger seat. End ID.

ID #4: A greyscale sketch of Bob sleeping in the passanger seat in Helmut's van, and Helmut looking over at him from the driver's seat with a smile. End ID.

ID #5: A two part sketch of Bob Zanotto sleeping in a big bed while Helmut’s brain ball sits on a pillow next to him. The top part of the drawing shows the two up close. Bob snores with his mouth open. Helmut is psychically sending energy that looks like an arrow surrounded by hearts to Bob’s mind. The bottom part shows that Bob is dreaming of speaking with Helmut. In the dream Helmut is drawn in white lines in contrast to Bob’s black lines. End ID.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #bob zanotto #helmut fullbear #bob/helmut #sketches #this has been sitting in my drafts for a while bc i didnt bother doing all the pointlessly difficult text formatting #bc Tumblr makes editing text under readmores a mobile specific nightmare </3

349 notes · View notes

atthebell · 7 months

Note

המצאה אָדער לאַקעטקע

א גוטן מיטאג!! (good afternoon!)

Fun Jewish treat time! Rugelach (or rugelekh, if you're doing a direct Romanization, and the Yiddish is רוגעלעך) is an Ashkenazi Jewish pastry similar to a croissant, in that it's flaky pastry rolled around a filling. Typical fillings include cinnamon, walnuts, chocolate, or poppy seeds (a popular Jewish filling for sweets-- see poppy seed hamantaschen).

Etymology time!

Rugelekh means "little twists" in Yiddish, as "rog" means corner, the "-el" ending is a diminutive, and the "-lekh" ending makes it plural.

So, for instance, cubito in Yiddish would be "בלאקעל/blokel" or "פלאכעלע/plakhele" (blok (block) + -el masculine diminutive ending vs. plakhe (block) + -ele feminine diminutive ending). The gender here can be whichever, I just went with these because they sounded nice. There are also a LOT of Yiddish diminutives so these are just a couple ways you could translate it.

And finally here's some photos of these delightful treats:

If you have a Jewish bakery or deli nearby you I highly recommend trying them!!

[qsmpblr trick or treat ask game]

#asks #journeysfable #trick or treat ask game #fighting tumblr formatting to let me put yiddish and english next to each other #nightmare every time

9 notes · View notes

fredoesque · 19 days

Text

Fanfic Writer Questions

thank you for the tag @cinehomophile!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 22

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 42,694

3. What fandoms do you write for? good question honestly. i've written a lot of mean streets/tdh/gbu recently and i'm working on some terror fics atm, but i tend to hop around a lot

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 5. all of this before i got here: the mantimer fic i wrote for the dollars trilogy event

4. shallow graves for shallow hearts: my supernatural blondie fic

3. (the horns will swell and the strings will sound) when that flipped quarter hits the ground: serial killer romcom for faraway wanderers

2. tell me if somehow, some of it remains: my liang jiuxiao/zhou zishu fic. this thing is iconic actually; it's the first fic i ever wrote AND back when i wrote it, it was the only ljx/zzs fic on ao3. there's 32 now!! i don't really go here anymore but it's genuinely so cool to see others taking up the torch as it were

1. what is decreed must be; and be this so (what you will): woe, ofmd be upon ye! this is my ofmd twelfth night au

5. Do you respond to comments? i try to! don't always get around to it but i think i've been getting better with this

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? many contenders here you know me. however i think i will say from nowhere (strange place for a boy to drown). in no small part bc the ending of black sails is just that fucked up

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i think what is decreed must be; and be this so probably has the most unambiguously happy ending but something in the vein of this place lets you down (easy) or (the horns will swell and the strings will sound) feels happier to me exactly bc they do have some of that tasty ambiguity. if that makes sense.

8. Do you get hate on fics? no

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? no again

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? i haven't written any (unless ig if you count the aforementioned ofmd twelfth night au?). i wouldn't be opposed to it but i feel crossovers are quite hard to pull off and i haven't ever come up with a worthy concept

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? nope

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? not translated but @cinehomophile and @fruitysalamander1398 did make a podfic of one of my fics and it's the coolest thing ever!!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? well this depends on your definition of "written". i have joined a shared google doc before

14. What's your all time favorite ship? this is so hard to answer actually. hannigram was probably most foundational to my personality however i think the most ship of all time might just be silverflint. don't hold me to that though

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i have nearly 2k written of a supernatural gbu fic where angel eyes is helping tuco get revenge on blondie by finding blondie's soul (threat). i still really like the concept and a bunch of what i've written and i do hope to finish is someday, but it's definitely on the back burner for now

16. What are your writing strengths? a weird one maybe but i feel i'm pretty good at effective writing. like, picking the right detail or turn of phrase to get something across and then knowing to leave it at that. also characterization through narration is a big part of my process and i like to think i have good prose

17. What are your writing weaknesses? plot and pacing. the way i plan/outline really focuses themes/ideas/mood and while those tend to come together pretty well (imo), it means the actual event-level plot structure is often a bit weaker. i actually really want to write some sort of casefic at some point to stretch those muscles a bit more. also this isn't really a weakness but i wish i wrote faster!!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i love when people do this i love language! i do feel like you really need to have a good grasp on the language to pull it off though, so unless we all collectively get really into goede tijden slechte tijden i don't think it's in the cards for me any time soon

19. First fandom you wrote for? qi ye! (it was tell me if somehow, some of it remains as mentioned above)

20. Favorite fic you've written? probably the sun peeks in (like a killer through the curtain) aka stanfic. i really enjoyed writing the stan & linda dynamic and i loooved playing with the ways mike/nick where absent/present. also i'm just very proud of how it turned out in general :)

ok this is the bit where i'm supposed to tag people but embarrassingly enough i'm not 100% sure who here writes fic so. if you see this and you're an author YOU are tagged. if you would like to be ofc

#sorry for never cross-referencing ao3 and tumblr. as if it's my fault #tag game #i will never apologize for having obnoxiously long fic titles but it did make this thing a nightmare to format haha

3 notes · View notes

burntotears · 2 years

Text

Title: Project Týr W/C: 17,225 Summary: Alex and Isobel commence work on a secret project that their partners are yet to be made privy to. But once everyone is in the know and a mission is underway, a new discovery about the past will send everyone reeling and put their lives on an unexpected trajectory. A/N: Part 5 of Marriage Ain’t Easy TW: mentions of rape

Alex’s disposition after the Álvarez heist started to alarm Michael. He had always been cautious when it came to any part of the alien lifestyle, but once they got back to Roswell, the behavior escalated. He and Michael were still connected by the bond and Michael could feel the utter paranoia he was exhibiting those first few days before it faded. The first thing Alex did was buy more security equipment than Michael had ever seen accumulated in one place before. He set up elaborate systems at their house, then at Kyle’s and Max’s (where Isobel was staying) places too. Even though they all had access to their respective systems, Alex wanted to monitor everyone’s and no one had the heart to tell him no because of how manic he was.

Once the systems were in place and he set up everyone’s phones with chips to keep them secured regardless of what they might be texting or calling about, his husband slowly started to ease back into a calmer demeanor. Michael stopped worrying so much about it then because with everything that had happened during the heist, he did not fault the man for feeling unsafe.

So Michael threw himself into studying the Truman tech they recovered–probably a little too obsessively. No one really commented on that aside to ask him how things were progressing, which he assumed was a polite way of giving him time to process everything. One of the few things he’d been able to uncover about it was that it was, in fact, created by his mother. He had no idea when, but their theories were after the Lockhart machine was built. Michael was of the impression that she might not have built any of it willingly, either. Lockhart had known that Nora and Patricia were working on the original machine together, so it was highly likely that the humans at Caulfield tried to make her build other things during her earlier imprisonment there.

“But why?” Kyle asked, looking at the pieces spread out on the Guerin’s coffee table.

“Advancement of human technology,” Michael said, taking a sip from his beer. He glanced at Alex over on the sofa who was engrossed in something on his computer and was hardly engaged in the conversation. That was par for the course these past few weeks, though Michael wasn’t completely sure why. Kyle was there and was always annoyingly involved even though he worked at Deep Sky where the mole was too. So was it just that Kyle was an idiot and didn’t recognize the danger or was Alex just too hyper-fixated like he tended to get?

[ Read on AO3 ]

#malex #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #malex fic #marriage!verse #(mine)#(my fic)#(malex)#(rnm)#sorry they are getting too long to post on tumblr guys #and the formatting is a nightmare #hope you enjoy #tw: mention of rape #abel #pod squad

22 notes · View notes

rockitmans · 1 year

Text

Gone fishin'

I'm taking a lil break from tumblr. I'm still intending to write each day but I'm going to post the rest of my fic all in one go. Hopefully on Valentine's Day.

Much love to everyone that's been going on this journey with me but the daily posting is just hard to manage on top of life stuff atm!

#Especially like I do everything on my phone and writing and formatting the Tumblr posts has been nightmare #it takes so long #I don't use the app so that's probably half the problem #anyway I don't know if anyone like checks to see if I've posted lol but just a little update #fic: ba vs valentine's day #I'm quite happy with what I've written today so the energy is very much still there in case anyone is worried

17 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

justrandomgirldoingrandomshit

i like long walks at the beach and I cry

janda-imuet

Janda_berair

tickerbo

Mentally Unwell

2-letters

Storyteller

luce-do-the-doodles

Long John Spaghetti