#pooks ponderings

[pooks]

so i had this thought...Callum as babysitter for Avery and Esteban is really adorable

it all starts with Martin complaining over how hard it is to find a babysitter for the babies. cause Cecil works, Carlos works and so does he and Jon. he can't afford to take more day offs.

and Callum, who's just chilling on the couch, scrolling tik-tok, just looks up and says "i can watch then. i'm like their big brother after all, right"

i'm gonna assume it takes a lot convincing cause Martin wasn't entirely sure if a fourteen year old could look after two toddlers on his own. but eventually, Cal looks after the babies when he doesn't have school.

hey, they even works out a schedule, i bet. probably taped up at the fridge, along with a chore wheel (yes, i bet they have a chore wheel)

and Callum doesn't mind cause he doesn't have much of a social life anyways (except for that football player crush in his school) and the babies likes him, so everyone wins.

to everyone's surprise (including Cal as well), he's a great babysitter. he entertains the babies, make sure they are fed and clean, plays games with them, takes them outside for a bit (he never forgets sunscreen or their hats) and treats them ice-cream

also headcanon that Callum isn't proud of his actions at Night Street in the fearpocalypse and he doesn't want to fall back to it (even if it's unclear that was his own actions or not, it's left ambiguously), so he really takes this role super-seriously

the consequences is, of course, the babies likes to joke and mess with him when they get older asdfghjkl

but Cal is still the best damn babysitter in Night Vale

thank you for coming to my TED

(please note that these are just headcanon and imaginations. the Welcome to Somewhere Else AU belongs to @sm0kebreaks @kerink and @game-warden, a TMA/WTNV crossover)

#tma #callum brodie #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #cecil gershwin palmer #carlos the scientist #tma avery #wtnv esteban #wtnv #welcome to night vale #wtse #welcome to somewhere else #pooks ponderings #wtse thoughts #callum is a really great character #he's complex as a new teenager and he is traumatized from the Dark and he's gotten no therapy at all #so it was no wonder he lashed out when he ruled night street in s5 #also it's an ambiguous situation since it's implied that callum had a piece of rayner in himself like a parasite but it's gone now #and he doesn't want to talk about it #the magnus archives

[edenesth]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

Dear Soulmate

I'm sorry it took me so long, anon! I didn't know how to approach this and was waiting for a friend to do it first🙈

For my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast💖

Choi San — soulmate au (idiots to lovers)

In a world where soulmates exist, most people discover their other halves before reaching twenty-five, you struggle to find yours, even when he had been right in front of you all along. You've witnessed those around you revelling in the bliss of finding their destined partners, all the while blindly awaiting your own.

"I cannot believe this, I'm dying alone!" you cried.

"Pooks, he'll come when the timing's right, I just know it," Eve, your closest friend and platonic soulmate, reassured you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you poured out your frustration. Despite being on the cusp of turning 26, your soulmate remained elusive.

"How did you and Hwa find each other again?" you asked, desperate for answers.

Eve sighed, "Whenever one of us gets hurt, a flower tattoo appears on the other in the same spot of their body. You know how clumsy I am, he found me through those blossoms. But each soulmate pair has their own unique connection. Haven't you felt anything special?"

See, in this world with soulmates, each pair discovers their connection in their own way. There's no universal formula, and you despised that fact vehemently. It only added unnecessary complexity to the already challenging quest for love.

Your parents had found each other through their inner voices, where their internal voices are the other's instead of their own. Your sister had found her soulmate through a compass on her body that led her to where her other half is.

And then there was you. Nothing. Nada. Niente. Absolutely nothing at all.

And as your birthday drew near this year, panic set in. You'd soon be a year older than the age when most people found their soulmates. Maybe you didn't have one, maybe he died, maybe he got aborted as a foetus, maybe—

"Woah, woah, just take a deep breath, everything will be okay," your friend reassured, trying her best to help in any way possible, "Hey, didn't you say you've been having a lot of dreams lately? And it's always that same dream?"

You blew a raspberry in frustration, "Yeah, but I doubt my recent dreams have anything to do with my soulmate, assuming I even have one. They're always about that art museum I go to on weekends. I think it's just because I spend so much time there."

She pondered for a moment, "Wait a minute, didn't you mention that San guy you always see there? What if—"

"Oh, hell no," you exclaimed, shuddering at the possibility of that annoyingly gorgeous mountain of a man being your destined lover, "I'd rather be alone forever than end up with someone like him."

It all happened on a day when you sought solace at the museum after a taxing week at school. Exhausted from dealing with incompetent classmates and antagonistic professors, you longed for a moment of peace as you approached your cherished spot in the corner. But to your dismay, you discovered an ignorant man occupying not just one seat, but the entire bench with his belongings. And not just any bench, your bench, the one everyone knew better than to occupy.

So you did the first thing that came to mind, you might have uttered some unkind words out of irritation. Looking back, you acknowledge it was all very unnecessary, considering it was likely his first visit to the museum and he clearly didn't realise it was your spot. However, your pride prevented you from admitting fault.

Consequently, he responded with equal unpleasantness. Even the museum guards had to intervene before things escalated into a fight. Like dealing with children, they persuaded both of you to share the bench since there was clearly more than enough space for two.

You adamantly refused to yield your spot and relocate, asserting your presence since you were here first. Similarly, it seemed his foolish pride prevented him from budging as well; thus, you both found yourselves locked in a silent standoff, exchanging wary glances as you engaged in a weekly silent war.

"Ugh, was hoping I wouldn't have to see your face today," San sneered, earning a glare from you as you settled down beside him. You were running slightly late, having trouble getting up after yet another frustrating dream, one slightly more annoying than usual.

Deliberately nudging his bag aside with irritation, you narrowed your eyes, "You wish, loser. This spot is mine, and it's staying that way."

He smirked in response, "Someone's in a foul mood, but then again, when are you not? Hope it's not because of that dream where your precious bench gets snatched away for good."

"Shut the hell up—"

You stopped short, a sudden realisation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You hadn't shared that dream with anyone, not even Eve. No one should know about it except... No freaking way. He couldn't possibly be the one you've been waiting for all this time. It seemed too absurd to be true. Why, out of all people, would fate pair you with this insufferable, infuriating, irksome yet undeniably attractive, bastard?

"Surprise, genius. It's me, your soulmate."

"I knew," he confessed, his voice carrying frustration and resignation, "I knew from the moment I saw you that you were my other half. That's why I came here in the first place, why I was in this exact spot."

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. All this time, he had known, yet he had still chosen to engage in your petty conflicts.

"But when I met you," he continued, "I was excited, hopeful even. But your attitude, your stubbornness... it's unbearable. As much as I feel the pull towards you, I can't ignore how immensely annoyed I am by your behaviour."

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

"I know that if I had a choice in who my soulmate is," he admitted, his gaze intense, "it would never be you."

After a moment of processing his words, you gritted your teeth in anger, "Well, joke's on you, buddy. I don't want you either. Maybe it would be best for both of us if you stop showing up here from now on."

Days turned into weeks, and true to your request, San ceased his visits to the museum. At first, you felt a strange sense of relief, but soon, that relief morphed into a tumult of conflicting emotions.

You didn't know how to feel. Did you truly mean what you said, or were those words simply born out of anger? Your emotions were a tangled mess. On one hand, you had just turned away your soulmate after yearning for his presence for so long. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the resentment that it had to be him, of all people. Part of you longed to be near him, to reconcile and embrace your destiny. But another part recoiled at the thought, recoiled at the frustration his presence brought.

Unbeknownst to you, San wasn't doing much better. His heart felt hollow, the absence of your presence leaving a gaping void. He tried to carry on with his life as before, but the weight of your rejection hung heavy on his shoulders. But his pride also kept him from reaching out to you.

He suppressed the pull towards you, buried it beneath layers of denial and indifference. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, your essence lingered in his dreams, haunting him with visions of what could have been.

Then, one day, fate intervened in a way neither of you could have predicted. You fell ill with food poisoning and ended up in the hospital. In a panic, San saw it in his dream, a vision of you lying pale and weak in a hospital bed. Without hesitation, he raced to your side, his heart pounding with fear. As he stood in the hospital room, watching over you, he realised the depth of his feelings. Despite everything, he couldn't deny the truth any longer. You were his soulmate, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

You furrowed your brows at his unexpected appearance, "What the hell are you doing here? Who invited you?"

His heart sank at your coldness, but before he could form a response, Eve intervened, giving you a playful smack on the shoulder, "Stop it, you! He came all this way, and you're still going to be mean to him?" Turning to San with a warm smile, she continued, "You must be San! I'm Eve, her best friend. It's nice to finally meet you. Oh, and please don't take her words to heart. She likes to pretend as if she hadn't been dying to see you again."

Blushing furiously at her blunt revelation, you shot her a glare, but she simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "Behave yourself. I'll be back shortly after settling the bill with Hwa," she said, brushing past San. As she passed him, she gave a polite nod, "Please take care of her for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Eve," he replied, nodding in return.

As soon as your friend left the room, he took a step closer, his tone serious, "Listen, I'm tired of playing games. I came here because I realised I can't bear to lose you again. So, tell me if you feel the same right now. If you still want me gone, I'll leave and never show my face around you ever again."

His words struck a chord, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He couldn't resist the pull any longer, sitting down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you. Relief flooded through him as he felt you relax in his embrace.

"I don't want to lose you again either. I'm sorry I was an idiot," you whispered.

"You should be," he teased, planting a kiss on your hair, "But I'm sorry too. Perhaps I should have told you who I was from the start. Let's just... not say things we don't mean and hurt each other again, okay?"

You nodded, squeezing him tightly, "Okay, Sannie."

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

#lovely asks #my pookie #itstheghostofmypast #ateez fanfiction #choi san #ateez san #soulmate au #choi san x reader #choi san x you

[adleryoung]

How Adler Stole Kringlemas

Proudly presenting Our first ever Holiday Special for the Edification and Moral Instruction of the Public

by Dr. Sus (mostly Typeandkey with minor alterations by Tegerio)

Every Yew-man down in Yarksberg liked Kringlemas a lot… But Adler, hiding north of town, most certainly did NOT! Adler HATED Kringlemas and all the “Giving” seasons! Don’t ask him why, he’ll gladly talk your ear off with his reasons. He’ll claim that it was built upon the backs of elvish labor. It’s all a big excuse for folks to rip off friend and neighbor.

And yet the most probable reason of all Was that Adler’s brain was two sizes too small.

But, Whatever the reason, his soapbox or brain, He hated it all, standing cold in the rain. Staring down from his cave with a sour, elfly frown At the warm lighted windows below in the town, He knew every yew-man in Yarksberg had plans, And now was their time to write lists of demands.

“And they’re hanging their stockings!” He snarled with a sneer. “Next Month is December! It’s practically here!” Then he growled, with his elf fingers nervously drumming, “I MUST try and stop this Kringlemas from coming!” For, quite soon, he knew, all the yew girls and boys Would pick up their pens and make greedy noise! And then many elves would fall to Kringle’s ploys, Be rounded up roughly, and forced to make TOYS!

Adler, of course, was too smart for all that. He’d honed his skills well. He could hide like a cat. He could dodge! He could pook at the drop of a hat! There’s simply no way he’d make toys for some brat! But all these neat tricks and evasions aside, To disappear every year was hurting his pride. Hiding away while the yew-men would mingle - It made him so mad he could strike at the Kringle!

"It just isn’t fair! I'm the grand elven KING!!!" And the more Adler thought what the season would bring, The more Adler thought, “I must stop this whole thing! “Why, for decades and more I’ve put up with it now! “I'll stop Kringlemas from coming!" he pondered, "… but how?”

#furry #tboay #doggerel #holiday #parody #elf

[lettersforpooks]

Letters for you

Hi hello, Pooks

I’ll try to explain what this is all about so please bear with me (I promise it kind of makes sense). First and most importantly, all this idea roots in one question I have heard too many times: Why? And it seems I have so many answers to that question that I just needed a place to let those answers run free. Trust me, I have had enough time to wonder and ponder about this very same question and I am yet to run out of ideas.

Every single day it seems I find something new that I admire or that I love from you and that never ceases to amaze me. You never cease to amaze me. You are the most wonderful, amazing, incredible person I have ever had the luck of meeting and I believe you should be reminded of that as often as possible. Now, this is just a gift from me to you that is yet to be completed as you can see. Let’s say it is a kind of ongoing birthday present that I will continue working on and that I hope I will never complete because I also believe there are not enough words, pictures or drawings to express how wonderful you are and how much I love you for that. Despite that, I will always do my best to make you feel as special as you are as long as I keep breathing (a bit of drama, my personal brand). 

I wish you a very happy birthday. I hope you have an amazing day today. And there's nothing else in this world that I want more than your happiness so that's all I wish for you.

You mean the world to me, Pooks.

S

[the-starcatcher]

pooks is pondering 😗

#he is so baby #i want to hug him and kiss his cheek and tell him how sweet he is

[pooks]

i think something went wrong with the drawing i uploaded last night, cause I haven't gotten any feed on it and i really worked hard on it.

or maybe the internet ate it. :/

#pooks ponderings #pooks' art

[adleryoung]

This, of course, was simplicity itself; one of the classic Elfin pranks we used to pull on lowfolk!  I quickly composed the Gramarye to command the rabbit's underclothes to yank themselves up as high as they could possibly go.

"Move those miscreants away, back toward their village," I instructed the forest, with a dismissive wave of my hand.  Some vines snaked out of the bushes, twined around the semi-conscious rabbits, and dragged them out of sight.  Meanwhile I tried to look impressively Wise and Thoughtful as I mentally reviewed the powers I had currently at my disposal:

I could Pook from place to place inside the stone circle, as well as to the scrying tower and back, and presumably to locations within Albric Tor (though Pooking to places one could not see was risky.)

I could spy on virtually anyone with the scrying tower, provided I could locate them.

I could apport useful objects (again, provided I knew where they were.)

I could transmogrify people and objects from one form to another.  It was possible to make these transformations temporary (in the case of Elf-gold for instance) or permanent (in the case of Oak Marten.)  Theoretically I should be able to design a transmogrifying geas that would wear off, but then return if certain conditions were met.  Rebecca's father, for example, could turn back into himself in a day or two, but become a poodle again any time he lost his temper.  Yes, that could be fun .. I just needed to craft the precise composition to make it work correctly.

I could communicate with the trees, by using the Voice of the Forest.

If I concentrated, I could read lowfolk's minds with Elfmind.  Previous experiments had shown that this was much easier than reading an elf's mind.

I could elf-shoot lowfolk, which temporarily incapacitated them .. or I could just shoot them with regular killing arrows if I needed to.  Elf-shot unfortunately did not work well on elves.

Speaking of elf-shot, it wasn't too much of a brag to say that I was an excellent shot with a bow - and after Adoyret Sam's training, I felt pretty good about my hand-to-hand combat skills.

One thing that was supposedly possible but I hadn't yet figured out was some way of controlling the temporal discrepancies involved in traversing the Gate between Faerie and the lowfolk world.

"Lord Ramble," Oak beseeched.  "Sorry to interrupt your Majestic Pondering, or whatever it is you're doing, but we still need to discuss how we're going to defeat the shoe cult and keep the rabbits from interfering with us again.  Maybe they learned their lesson today, but I wouldn't count on it.  More immediately, what should we do about this girl?  She's got the crude makings of a distinctive personal style, but it needs refinement and she needs to be formally initiated into our society."

#furry #elf #silly #adventure #story #plot #magical #cartoon #tboay

[adleryoung]

"Easy now," I cautioned the trees via Elfmind.  "Try not to kill them.  I want them to return to their village with tales of horror.  A few bruises and broken bones should suffice, then hustle them on home."

"Those three in the front who fell," I shouted.  "Bring their bodies into the circle so that I may decide their fate."

The cultists dragged the unconscious rabbits into the clearing.

I pooked down to the ground and stood over the interlopers as I pondered what to do with them.

"Please be merciful," Rebecca whimpered.  "That's my dad."

"I shall not harm him," I grumbled.  "But he must be punished for daring to come here and interfere with my affairs."

But what would be the most appropriate punishment?  My first inclination was to play some traditional elfly pranks on them:  Stitch their pants legs together, fill their pockets with porridge, and paint ridiculous patterns on their faces, then dump them somewhere deep in the forest where they would wake up disoriented and confused.

But that might not impress my followers, who were quietly watching me to see what I would do.

Transmogrifying them all would be too much hassle, and besides - as in Oak's case, it might wind up not being much of a punishment.

Perhaps I should try to frame Jerry's shoe cult for this?  If I put shoes on the intruders and sent them packing with shoe-related chants ringing in their ears, then they would be certain to misplace the blame for their misadventure.  But then again, would that just wind up bolstering the shoe cult's reputation?  A furtive glance revealed no shoes on any of the feet I could see, and I was not about to magickally create shoes.  Doing so would be disgraceful!  And it would no doubt be doubly unwise to involve my new cult in any shoe-related rituals, even for the sake of obfuscation.  No, these people were here for the sake of HAIR (except for Rebecca, who had come for the sake of evil but didn't seem very committed to the idea.)

This still left me in a quandary though.  What would be a suitable hair-related punishment?  Baldness?  A mullet?  Dreadlocks?  What sort of impression would it leave on my followers if they saw me giving someone a BAD hairdo?  Even if that person was my enemy?  But if I gave them glamorous hairstyles, would that not be seen as a reward rather than a punishment?

I had to do SOMETHING!  My cultists were watching, and I could sense them starting to become restless.

#furry #cartoon #elf #silly #adventure #story #plot #tboay

[adleryoung]

"Great work, Thomson!" I exclaimed, giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign.  "I was worried about you for a while there, but it looks like you're proving to be a valuable asset to my team.  You've got that guy totally subdued.  He's scared stiff as a board."

"Fuma preserve us," Estvan muttered grimly.  "Sure an' could this be some manner o' punishment?"

"I've said it before, an' I'll say it again," the old fox snapped as he whacked my head with his shillelagh.  "Wake up, ye spalpeen!  Yon floozy has captured a log.  A LOG!!  Sure an' yer still bedazed an' befuddled by that wicked herb, an' it's captured you'll be by a squad o' potted plants if ye don't start thinkin' and actin' right soon!"

"Thanks, I needed that," I yelped as the pain cleared my mind.  I rubbed my head and stroked my chin thoughtfully as I pondered our situation.

My army was in no state to march right now, let alone face combat.  Burnside and Thomson were both addled by the pipeweed's noxious vapors.  Estvan was right; something needed to be done right away, and I was going to have to do it myself.

I recalled that there was a still-functioning scrying tower on the outskirts of Albric Tor, not far from our present position.  If I could get there, it would be a good defensible stronghold .. and if I could figure out how to operate the scrying device, I might be able to discover the placement of the Marshal's forces and anticipate his strategies.  To take the tower and hold it, though, I would need to get there with my army .. and I had no way of knowing first whether it was defended or not.

It would probably be best if I could get into the Palace and talk to Estmere directly.  He was a sensible elf; if I explained the situation to him, brother to brother, he would probably understand.  As long as I let him keep some floozies, he might peacefully abdicate the throne.  But how could I get from here into the Palace?

The strange buck's mention of tunnels reminded me of the way Sir Ravenmad was able to move rapidly around the city via the Underworks.  There was probably a way into them from the Hall of Ancestors, which wasn't far from here.  If I could gain access to those tunnels, I might be able to find my way into the Palace.

The Master of Elhame had used some sort of Gnostermonger hamomancy to transport himself into the Palace pantry.  That skill would have come in useful now, but I had never learned it.

Estvan had taught me to do Pooka Vanish, which was almost as good as hamomancy - but alas, I was not proficient enough to pook all the way to the Palace from here.  Plus there was always significant danger in pooking to a location that one could not see.

I briefly considered the possibility of using the Gaps to circumvent Theronmyathus' army, but had to scrap that idea as soon as I thought of it.  Gaps were too unpredictable.  There was no way of knowing where one would appear.  Plus, the temporal shift between the worlds was such that any army using a Gap for transport would show up years or even [i]decades[/i] late for the battle.  This might have been an effective strategy any other time, but we were on a tight schedule!  I had to take the throne before Edessa gave birth to her royal child!

Eventually I decided that my best chance would be to transmogrify into something that would enable me to sneak into the city unseen .. or at least unchallenged.  The forms I knew how to do were:  A fish, a mer-elf, an Ixie, and a beautiful vixen.  There probably wasn't time to learn a new one, so one of these would have to do - but which one?

"Papa," SALV Silverbrush called plaintively as she pooked into the area.

"Macushla?" Estvan asked, startled.  "Begorrah, Sofie me dearie, what is it yer doin' out here?"

"Oh Papa, I've missed U," the SALV pleaded.  "Please come home.  I want 2 sit in ur lap and listen 2 U tell stories of teh Long Ago."

Nearby:

Alice Chetsweeks sat down at the foot of a large tree, placed the Scuti-jar beside her, and began to closely examine the tail comb she had swiped from my Elfintory.

"Fuma's Teeth," she whispered reverently.  "This is it, isn't it?  To think that the Duchess of Daisies had it all this time."

Meanwhile, in the Palace:

"Dude," Estmere sighed with unfeigned contentment.  "Being High King of Faerie totally rocks!  I never want to give it up.  Being an elf is the best.  It's way better than being a lowfolk.  And life, man .. being alive RULES!  It's totally better than being, like, I dunno, a dried-up skeleton or something."

#furry #elves #fantasy #adventure #story #plot #tboay