#writing is hard and takes time

[inkskinned]

i'm still trying to piece together the truth of it. when you left, you said: feel free to spin this narrative however you want. i have no idea if you were being cruel or if you just genuinely don't remember what you've done to me.

it's hard because i'd done so much of the work for you. i had seen the parts that flaked off, the rust underneath. i started separating you into two people - the one i loved, and the one who hurt me. i had this fantasy version of you - my partner - and then i had this stranger, a third person who would show up randomly to shatter me. i am deliriously glad i'm no longer with "the stranger". i miss the gentle (unreal?) "other" you terribly.

at first, i was so strict about my boundaries. i remember telling you to get the fuck out of my house if you were going to talk to me like that. by the end: i would justify your behavior for you, accepting even your mistreatment as "my fault" in the grand scheme. i look back on the person i was before you - smart, independent, confident - and i feel a strange sense of detachment. i don't even recognize me.

even in one of our last conversations, you said: if you want a partner that always talks warmly to you, find someone else. there was a time that a comment like that would have made me leave. and instead, somehow, i just placidly accepted that kind of thing. you were literally telling me that i wasn't allowed to have a reaction to your cruelty - and i just took it, because you'd so fully turned things around on me.

when people are faced with irrationality, a rational brain tries to make sense of it. this is the trap. they're lovely in the morning, gentle and blue-eyed and sweet. like nothing even happened, they breeze around the house and kiss you on the mouth. but at night; who is that? they snap almost randomly; flying into an impotent rage about just-about-anything. it just doesn't make sense. so the problem must be me, and my brain, and how i think.

the traumatized brain just wants peace. so maybe i'm misremembering. maybe you were just having a bad day. maybe it's actually me.

you eventually would fully turn on me and start implying that i am the bad actor in our relationship. that's what happens, right? that's literally in the playbook. you went to therapy for all of a month, told her a half-truth, co-opted therapyspeak. you figured out how to reframe your actions as "seeking peace." any time i stood my ground, i was "gaslighting." when i asked you to be more gentle, you said i was "tone policing." you said, randomly, i had emotionally manipulated you - i still have no idea what that's even specifically referring to. maybe my consistent requests for calmness and empathy?

and while i literally know better, and i'm sitting here, trained by you, thinking: wait, fuck. was i actually the person you made me out to be?

and the thing that scares me is that i literally do not know if you ever actually saw what you were doing to me. when you'd tell me how you remember arguments, you'd always summarize them in a way where you come off as gentle and easy: "i was trying to set an important boundary." what had actually happened was 15 minutes of you shouting at me i know you did something shady, just admit it already. eventually you'd say my reaction to your shouting (when i finally reacted, which usually happened around hour three) was inevitably "disappointing" and "another way i'm silencing your feelings."

how many times did i ask you - beg you - to just take accountability? looking back, i don't think i ever heard you say: you're right. the way i talked to you was wrong of me.

i am trying to tie together the two people into a full version of you in my head. yes, you made my coffee and made me laugh and spent hours on the phone with me. and yes - you would scream at me until i had to run away and hide behind something.

i wish i did have a narrative i could pull out and shape to my whim. i wish i did have some semblance of reality. instead i just stand here, strange and vibrating, wondering: what the fuck just happened?

[bluerosefox]

Stellar Collisions

Back at it again with a DPxDC prompt.

It does have deaged Dani (Ellie)

Only this time its KonxDanny idea!~

Supernova, Kon's new hero name since Jon took over the Superboy name now, wasn't expecting to be called out to... especially in the sky... by another floating/flying person and-

WOW

They were cute as heck.

Glowing green eyes, and white hair, a bit shorter than him. He was floating in the air with a soft glow around himself as well.

And he was holding a white haired, very similar looking toddler in his arms, only the toddler had longer hair that was tied in pigtails. And the toddler was staring at Kon with large, almost sparkling eyes.

The young man, around Kon's age if he guessed, smiled and floated a bit closer, his face friendly and warm. When the young man stopped he kindly asked "Hey, would it be any trouble for you to autograph something for my daughter? She's a huge fan!"

[xxplastic-cubexx]

personal happiness or what the fuck ever

bonus:

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

[zillychu]

On their way to Bambouche, the party stops by a restaurant. A nice meal is had, the sun is setting, the day is winding down.

Until Siffrin sees the couples' deluxe dessert special on the menu.

"Quick, someone pretend to be bonded with me!" Siffrin slaps the menu down with a sweaty palm, fire in his eye and maybe a little drool on his chin.

Odile's hand is on Isabeau's shoulder with the speed and expertise of a handler whose dog was just offered bacon.

"Isabeau," She speaks calm and quiet, as Mirabelle and Bonnie scoot in close to Siffrin, oo-ing and aa-ing at the lavishly illustrated confectionary. "Wait just a moment."

"Madame..." Isa whines with such a shake to both voice and legs (had he really already been on his feet?), that Odile returns to the dog metaphor. She nods her head towards the three at the other end of the table.

They all look as desperate as Isa does right now, starry-eyed and giddy as they point out the obscene number of strawberries, the generous portion of vanilla-bean ice cream, and ooh is that lava cake? It's huge, but they can afford it at 50% off!

"I know you need this like a drowning man needs air," Odile doesn't even keep her tone down this time, she's hardly the only one with at least one eye. "but consider:"

Siffrin, Mirabelle, and Bonnie look up at them, curious.

"It would be hilarious to see Siffrin and Mirabelle fail at this spectacularly."

Silence falls across the table. Hands shake. A dry throat tries to swallow.

Isa quietly sits back down in his chair.

"S-sorry, Sif..." Isa scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

"HAH!!!"

"Madame you traitor!!"

"Wait wait wait Isa hold on, we could still--"

"Ah-ah, Isabeau made his decision. Don't be a sore loser now."

"Oh Change--okay, okay I can do this. We can do this, Siffrin!"

"Belle, Belle! Give Frin one of your earrings!"

"... Oh no my ears aren't pierced, why did I never pierce my ears??"

"Just, uh... stick it on your cloak? That might be obvious enough! I think!"

"Okay, yeah--w-wait, what's our story?"

"Story? We need a--oh Change of course we need a backstory! What if they ask us how long we've been bonded?"

"We'll just, we can, um--"

"The waiter's coming back, quick hurry up!!"

-----

A waitress stands next to a portly man in a fine dress shirt, the two of them watching the commotion as the new guy (oh, poor Oliver) tries his best to handle delivering a final dessert order to Vaugarde's Saviors--and finding out Housemaiden Mirabelle is, apparently, betrothed.

He's handling it about as well as his previous interactions, having been ordered not to call attention to the heroes' identity or fame, give them some space to breathe. Things certainly would go a lot smoother if he had any semblance of a poker face, but at least three of them seem to trust his feigned ignorance.

The Housemaiden and her companion with the cloak look like they're about to melt off the table by the time Oliver starts walking off with an empty tray. The kid with them is already digging in, picking off strawberries and laughing uproariously while the tall gentleman across from them vibrates in fits of giggles.

"... Do they know... we would have given them the cake for free...?"

[whenthelightisrunninglow]

how's the other guy holding up

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Oh ho ho! Appears Siegfried owns both riding boots AND half chaps / gaiters, as seen here. Which I absolutely can make, myself!

(Also note the production in Episode 1 changes his base from shoes to ankle boots once he gets to the paddock, ha ha. Must have learned that muck was going to get in that shoe gap.)

Compare to early 1900s half chaps seen above. Siegfried's pair has an extra buckle, but otherwise appear to be this one-piece wrap design.

This style of half-chaps makes sense for the character, given his service in WW1. See these WW1 cavalry gaiters:

Here's his riding boots, for comparison. A very similar look, but 3 buckles and it's all one boot, instead of a covering.

Similar boots are still produced today, but at $1,700 USD, a bit rich for my blood, especially given I am not currently riding:

I'll be able to make the half-chaps for under $50, just need to check if I have the correct weight leather in my stash. For best results, I'll need to pattern these to my own legs, but I am stoked to turn out a pair!

[ask-the-pioneer]

Marbles approaches the tribe's trading square, where countless items are spread neatly on fabric mats. Food, weapons, vessels, bags... strings of pearls shimmering in the sun. Bingo! Perhaps she could persuade the scavengers to trade some of them.

Two individuals come out from the nearby shelter entrance. Sage - the head merchant and chronicler, and Spike - the tribe chieftain, greet their new slugcat guest in person.

"SALUTATIONS. YOU HAVE PEARLS?" Marbles signs with her hands. The two scavs look at her, unsure of the scug's intentions.

"Um… I WANT BUY PEARLS. YOU GIVE ME PEARLS, I GIVE YOU…" she pauses, and looks around. Spotting a spear nearby, she hops up to it and grabs it, then ties a piece of cloth around one of its ends and puts it in her maw. The scavengers tense up, their frills stand on ends. Why would this new guest pick up the weapon if not to use it? The guards nearby do not seem to like it either - they clutch their own spears in anticipation, watching the situation closely.

"I GIVE YOU EXPLODING SPEARS. YOU WANT?" Marbles says as she hands them a nicely crafted spear with a deep orange tint on one end. The cloth smells vaguely of sulphur.

"YOU MAKE EXPLOSIVES? WITH MOUTH? HOW!?" The scavs' eyes widen.

"MY SKILL. USEFUL! I MAKE SPEARS FOR YOU, YOU GIVE ME PEARLS. GOOD?"

Spike and Sage look at each other, barely believing what they just saw.

"…YOU CAN MAKE MORE?" The chieftain glances at Marbles. She nods her head in response.

Sage pulls their friend aside for a moment. There is urgency in their voice. "The tribute, Spike. Imagine if we sent two dozen of those spears to Metropolis. We'd earn favour and protection for at least a season, if not longer!"

The chieftain nods. "Yes… this opportunity is too convenient to pass up. Bring the pearls and calculate the exchange rate, but test those spears first. If they are usable, bring her whatever she needs to make more of them. I would still caution everyone to be careful, though."

"YES, GOOD. WE WILL GIVE PEARLS. SETTLE DOWN PLEASE, OTHERS WILL BRING YOU MATERIALS..."

[capcollector]

they’re so siblings to me

[pickles4nickles]

Hi hello I have more Palace AU pages

I think in the... four??? (oh god) years I've been doing Akeshu comics, I've stuck pretty close to canon so I've never really gotten to go apeshit with colors and palettes until now. And you know what, it feels nice, I should do that more.

Also hey guys could you watch Robin Hood for a sec, I'm gonna go on smoko, ok be back soon

Pages 11-18 | Pages 19-23 (You are Here) | Pages 24-29

[nonranghaes]

heads up: panic attack. vent for writer.

jisung knows how to take care of you now. he shuts your laptop, setting it aside as he quickly books it to the fridge and back to push a cold water bottle into your hands. you're getting overwhelmed, rambling up a storm about an assignment you did that now looks like you copied someone else who had the same idea. he tells you that it happens, that its normal, and to just email your professor about it... but he knows you. he knows himself. sometimes little things feel too big to handle, and they blow up like this. he holds his hands over your own, thumbs tracing alongside the inside of your wrists.

"it's okay," he says, keeping his voice as calm as he can. "it's gonna be okay. it's early enough. you haven't done any work yet. if she wants you to change it, it'll be okay. you're going to be fine."

you sniffle, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to breathe as your chest grows tighter. you're babbling all over again: what if what if what if she gets mad at you what if she hasn't graded your assignment because she reached out to your advisors who's on vacation what if you're in the process of getting in major trouble for a misunderstanding and you just don't know it yet?

he kisses your forehead, gentle as can be, and his hands slide up to your biceps. "honey. i promise, it's going to be okay."

the water bottle slips from your hands, hitting the floor and rolling away as you move in to hold him. you squeeze your eyes shut, breathing growing more rapid as you try to hide. from what, you don't even know, but you bury your face in his chest and grab fistfuls of the back of his shirt. he embraces you, tracing circles on your back as you sob.

"it's okay," he says again. "just get it out..."

and you do. you sob into his shirt, losing yourself for a minute. two, five. you lose track. but you pull away, breathing a little more even, face stained with tears. and you meet his eyes after a moment, sniffling still.

"'m sorry..." you wipe at your face with your sleeve. "'m overreacting again--"

"it's okay," he cups your cheeks. "i'd panic, too. would i be overreacting?"

he knows the answer is yes. but he knows you'll say no, just because neither of you downplay each other's feelings in the moment even if you do sometimes laugh over the stupid things later on. he kisses your forehead again, wiping away some of your tears with his thumbs. he reaches down, scooping up the water bottle and offering it to you again. without a word, you accept it, twisting off the cap and taking a long sip of it before passing it back to him.

"better?" he says quietly. and when you nod, he sighs in relief. "i think... before you do your next assignment... we should do something silly."

you nod, and then reach for your laptop. "after i email her. will you--"

"yes." he kisses your cheek, always on the same wavelength as you when it comes to moments like these. "i'll read it before you send it. do you want a snack?" he stands, stretching, already ready to hunt in the kitchen for whatever will make you smile the most. "i'll grab us some snacks."

"yes, please." you open up your email, and wait a moment before turning to watch him go. "i love you."

he beams as he spins to face you one last time now, already making a heart with his arms, just to hear you laugh a little at him being silly for you. "i love you more!"

[chewyhanniebug]

Buckle up kids because I'm pissed off and have a few points to make.

Obviously @raeisms doesn't need me to fight her battles for her. That's not what I'm trying to do. She's perfectly capable of sticking up for herself, and she has been, but it's getting ridiculous and I want to speak up about what this is leading to.

Fandom spaces are dying. Pushing people to stop creating is the cause.

That isn't a stretch. It's a fact. Not understanding boundaries or purposefully stepping over them is a massive chunk of the problem. It isn't just here, but this is already such a small community and pushing away artists/authors—people creating things for free with the purpose of enjoyment—is killing it. Artists and authors are, and always have been, the heart of fandom. Without them there is nothing.

Fandom etiquette has been left behind and forgotten. Ages are skewing younger and I don't care if I sound like a silly old millennial for saying that's also part of the problem. There's older people this applies to as well of course, but I've seen so many barging in who just don't understand how this works because there's so little guidance anymore. Again, not just here. It's happening across all platforms to all fandoms and it's terrifying.

What happened to "don't like, don't read" and using filters to curate what you want to see? What happened to thinking for two seconds about whether something you say could be hurtful and then not sending it? What are you trying to prove? I can't stress enough that you are the reason this will all stop existing.

TL;DR if you want to keep this space alive, grow up and learn some fucking manners.

[deadghostgirl12345]

Did you add a page+ to you writing? Gold star for you! ⭐️

Did you only add a paragraph or two? Well gold star for you too! ⭐️

Oh you only added a sentence or two? Well you also get a gold star! ⭐️

And you only added a word or two? Don’t great you also get a gold star! ⭐️

You just stared at your screen with your writing trying to think of something but didn’t end up writing anything? Well that’s okay, gold star for you too! ⭐️

Gold star for everyone!! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Any progress is good progress! Wether you added a full chapter or one word that’s still progress! Even if you were just looking at what you’ve written and didn’t actually end up writing anything, you still made an effort!

Don’t be too hard on yourself!!

[larrylimericks]

20Nov24

The thing that could always bring gladness Will now surely always bring sadness. Four men in black dress Laid their brother to rest. Liam’s gone? What the fuck is this madness?

[angelmush]

magenta smoothie 4 breakfast, vibrant vase of tulips 4 my gf, black dragon dog 4 sharing the couch with, and a big stack of notebooks 4 writing

[briskchips]

do you like burningcheese 🔺🧀?

Not personally! I can see burning spice having an interest in golden cheese in the same way all the beasts obsess over their respective ancients, but I just cannot ever see GC returning those feelings whatsoever. She has zero respect for him in my mind

So I guess if you count one-sided then yeah, but I don't even really see it as pining tbh. He just wants her to kick his ass