#//i cannot shut up about this man

[team-magma-official]

Have you tweaked the character from canon? If so, what did you tweak?

//I am perfectly aware of the rabbit hole I am opening by asking this. I'm opening it on purpose.

[canon questionnaire]

ohoho, an enabler. i take every opportunity i can to talk worldbuilding and canon divergence in-character so this is great actually. may your harvest be bountiful or something. thank you!

this is probably going to be incredibly long-winded and ramble-y, so bear with me. i love talking about this guy.

to start, i completely threw out the "expand the land" bit. that's goofy. not as bad as archie's thing, but still. and that's the main thing--rse-era maxie does NOT give you much to work with in terms of character.

however, the stuff that is there is... interesting i guess? and i started with that for the basis of the personality he has in both my fic and this blog. first off, he's the antagonist you have the most contact with once he's introduced. you have to battle him the first three times you meet him, before ever having to battle archie. second, he has some great lines during the climax--pointing out to the player his own hypocrisy when he criticizes archie has stuck with me since i was literally ten years old. he's convinced he can't actually do anything about groudon and kyogre fighting, but he also doesn't just give up.

and he and archie both do try to help in what way they can. they don't accomplish anything, but they do try.

and THEN there's the way he was portrayed in oras, which i also pulled from despite the fic and blog being based on emerald. in oras, he acknowledges his role as the antagonist in the player's story, and leans fully into it. he's pretty clearly having a good time throughout the story and seems genuinely fond of the player, acknowledging their talent and explaining his plan to them when you meet him at chimney. he even has a speech in seafloor cavern about how it's silly but he wanted the player to be there to witness his moment of triumph--and it's worth noting that archie does NOT have an equivalent moment. oras maxie is much friendlier and more open than people give him credit for in my opinion.

so let's get into the stuff i extrapolated from all that.

in the fic, he works as an archivist in mauville, which is how he has access to information on how to wake up groudon without causing her to rampage. he's very intelligent--my friend, the mod of @official-team-magma, jokes that he's high intelligence, low wisdom. he's affable and energetic but kind of hotheaded and impulsive. i struggled with untreated adhd for most of my life, so he does too because i need the representation. he's friendly with may to the point of trying to recruit her to team magma and being open with the fact that he and his team aren't a danger to her (she's from johto and used to team rocket). he's not comfortable being perceived as threatening, especially not to a young and anxious immigrant woman who's just trying to do what she thinks is right. he's still friends with shelly and speaks highly of her despite them being on opposite sides of a conflict now. he's a safe driver.

i said once on main that if maxie asher had a d&d class, he'd be a paladin. part of the backstory for hoenn in this fic/blog is that it was almost colonized by kanto back in the early 1800s, like johto and sinnoh were. the kantans landed in the eastern islands, and when they started aggressively pushing west, the native hoennic people (including the draconids, who do exist in this continuity) pushed back. a war broke out, and only ended once someone gained groudon's favor and partnered with her.

in the present, there's no war going on, at least not in the traditional sense. but maxie's definitely trying to gain groudon's partnership to grant himself legitimacy for what he wants to accomplish--the idea being that if he has her on his side, people will listen to him.

as for what he's doing with that favor, i guess we'll see!

[soft-cryptids]

“Nice.”

[incesthemes]

this is the exact halfway point in 1.20 dead man's blood. it's also the first time we see dean stand up to john in any capacity. from here on, too, dean continues to hold his ground against his dad, and his defiance grows more confident and definitive.

the first half of this episode therefore represents the "status quo" of their family dynamic: sam is angry and defiant, dean is blindly loyal, and john is domineering. we get a sense of what life was like for them before the series began and how the family functioned. the second half, then, represents sam and dean's development. sam and dean are working more as a unit, and they demand to be treated as equals not only among each other but to their father as well. this half shows sam seeming to get meeker in a way now that dean is defending him (sam deflates falls back into a comfortable routine with john, his yessirs a vast contrast to dean calling him out and an even vaster contrast to his own shouting matches with john in the first half of the episode)—this is the dynamic they're working toward and have been working toward this whole season.

but this halfway point is so cool. because right after this moment, dean is left helplessly torn between two options:

sam gets in the impala, and john gets in his truck. the two vehicles become physical manifestations of the choice dean now has to make: john or sam? status quo or development?

he gets in the impala. he chooses sam.

but the cool thing about it is that the impala is dean's car. of course he was going to get in his own car. it's a no-brainer. but at the same time, this doesn't stop the impala from representing sam in this moment. what this means, then, is that dean never had a choice in the matter: he was always going to choose sam.

dean lacks narrative agency for the majority of season 1. he constantly defers to sam's decisions, and even when he does make decisions that would lead to significant development for himself (see 1.11 scarecrow, where he chooses to let sam have his independence instead of clinging onto him, signifying a massive step forward for his own sense of self and independence), sam inevitably shapes the outcome of those decisions, leaving dean in a position where he isn't actually choosing things for himself (and sam returns at the end of the episode, preventing the possibility of his growth and keeping him defined by his place in his family).

this moment in dead man's blood is symbolic of that lack of agency. dean is tied to his brother, doomed to choose him because it's the only real option presented to him. this isn't to say that's a bad thing by any means obviously, just that it's an interesting setup for his narrative arc. dean is set to spiral straight into sam's orbit, helpless to stop it or escape, and frankly he doesn't want to, either. sam is the center of his universe, after all, and choosing sam was what he was raised to do. sam is his everything—including the master of his story.

so when dean chooses sam and gets into the impala, there was never any other option for him. dean was always going to choose his brother, was always going to stand up to john and defend sam and himself, was always going to get into his own car. unlike sam, whose season 1 conflict is between his fate and his family, dean's fate in many ways is his family, and he has nothing to convince him off that path (indeed, the one time he does falter in this during season 1 is because he's again deferring to sam's decision to leave him).

and the best part about all of the whole metaphor, to me, is this:

sam is the one driving the car.

[baronazazel]

Wesker's silly little worms <3

[dantent]

[izu]

people who twinkify kenshi make me wabt to die. so bad. nrs included i wont forgive them. nrs when i get you when i get you . when i get you .

[chrrywvea]

mobius with owen's normal hair length or longer hair in general would've been breathtaking, but it would've also made me go even more bonkers

LIKE??!!

AS IF HE ISN'T ALREADY TAKING UP ALL THE SPACE IN MY BRAIN??!! RAAAAAH

[update: pic creds to @sjweminem ♡]

[vulpinesaint]

listen i am geralt of rivia hater number one but one thing i actually CANNOT stand is when the fandom mischaracterizes him. took one look at this man who speaks very straight-forwardly and matter-of-fact and is a little recalcitrant with his words sometimes and went "haha he communicates in grunts! man who only says 'hm'!" and then won't even write him to speak in full fucking sentences. hello???? hello???????? yes the netflix show was a bad influence on everybody because they were trying too hard to depict geralt as a stoic manly badass but we CANNOT let that distract us from the REAL thing to make fun of geralt for. which are his Constant Unprovoked Monologues

[carma-tjol]

their faces when they get saved by blast kill me HAHAHAHAHAH

[kaladinkholins]

mizutaigen is literally like. the first "toxic" m/f ship i've ever cared for. cuz like usually my taste in m/f ships is basically "unhinged baddie" x "badass wifeguy" *

* (see:yen/geralt. trevor/sypha. adolin/shallan. kataang but katara is sane and they're literally so wholesome like theyre traumatised kids in love who are each other's emblem of hope in a war-torn world! so basically they don't count. anyway. i'm rambling.)

and to that end my friend called mizutaigen yaoi-adjacent and im like. yeah you're right actually cuz like hell yeah non-binary mizu and bisexual taigen rights and all the gender fuckery in the show in general

but also like.

theres just SOMETHING else about mizutaigen that just GETS me. like there's a special secret sauce like the pheromones in that one sephora lotion attracting spiders and i am the silly spider!!! there's just something about it!!! it's not even the enemies to lovers trope cuz i personally am not even usually into that (obv it's fine if you are. but yk.)

so as i keep rotating these thoughts around i thiiink it's the fact that, yknow, theyre so similar. like i honestly truly think they could be besties in another universe: a kinder universe where taigen was not taught to hate. a universe where mizu was not born a girl in a deeply misogynistic society or half-white in a xenophobic homogeneous society.

yeah now that i think about it that really just might be THE secret sauce!!! like the fact that they COULD be perfect and happy together, if only things were different, if only they werent themselves.

smth v bittersweet about that's just driving me insane and makes me want to root for them to overcome all those obstacles, to say "fuck all that" (re:the world and all its fucked up shit) and find each other in the end. to eventually become each other's fav person and confidant. who obv still bicker and tease and insult each other all the time but they dont really mean any of it and over time it just becomes a running gag between them and no one else has to get it because it's just between the two of them.

[randomwriteronline]

Mata Nui refused to sleep.

He had not given a reason for it, in the distinct way one does not give a reason for something they find immensely discomforting, so none had bothered to pry further, and he had never slept.

This was a useful problem. Useful, because he could still rest through meditation whilst remaining aware of his sorroundings, meaning there was always someone to keep an eye out for the many rogue crawlies that infested Bara Magna at night and any Bone Hunter ambushes, so there was no need to take turns keeping awake and vigilant; a problem, because Kiina now had to be wrestled to sleep lest she abused the down time they had to pester the stranger on space and planets and the such, and Mata Nui was more than glad to speak of anything she might have inquired about at length.

That would have also been a useful problem, as his explanations were told in a low gentle monotone that could have lulled a furious Rock Steed into a chittering pup gently kicking and pawing at the sand in its slumber, if the Gaquri would have managed to stop interjecting with far too loud a volume of voice.

As it was, however, all their conversations did was hinder everybody else's attempt at getting some shut-eye.

When Ackar awoke, the night was perfectly silent.

He wondered briefly why in Plude he'd stirred. A sudden flesh-rendering pain jolting through his right shoulder answered him a little too eagerly for his tastes, and he groaned as he kneaded into it with his fingers.

"Ackar?" a half whisper reached him.

He grunted in acknowledgement.

Mata Nui shifted from where he sat to lean over him: "Is something the matter, my friend?"

The Glatorian pushed himself upright with a bit of difficulty: "Nothing, nothing... Give me a second," he muttered, "I shouldn't sleep with it, but - urgh! Alright, alright, hold my elbow a moment, would you?"

He hissed his thanks through gritted teeth as his limb was caught in a gentle grip. His fingers slipped below his armpit and fumbled angrily with the folds of his skin as his grimace twitched with each spark of pain: at last, with a few clunks and exhausted pops, the arm went limp in Mata Nui's hold as it detached from the rest of Ackar's body, leaving the Glatorian to sigh in relief and move his hand closer to the crook of his own neck.

His friend stared at the body part suddenly in his palms with no shortage of surprise.

"It is a prosthesis," he noted, a little awed: "I did not realize that."

"Yes, well - it's not really your fault for that. It's not that easy to tell, and I never mentioned it," the Glatorian replied as he did his best to massage his aching shoulder blade.

The motion attracted the attention of blue eyes: "Are you hurt?"

"Ah... Nothing to be worried about. I should not sleep with it, is all. It decides to start stinging like Plude if I do that too much."

"You have slept with it all these nights, though."

Ackar gave a lopsided smile: "I know, I know - but when you're out here in the desert, it's always better to have two arms at the ready rather than one."

Mata Nui nodded solemnly, with a grave air about him, as though the Glatorian had bestowed great wisdom upon him instead of basic Bara Magnan common sense, and the veteran warrior could not help chuckling a little at him.

The otherworlder took great care to place the fake limb on the sand so that it would not jam its inner mechanisms before turning once more to his friend: "May I help you?"

"With what?"

"Your shoulder."

"It's just inflamed muscles."

"It doesn't seem as though you can reach the spot bothering you very comfortably on your own. I would be glad to lend a hand."

"Oh? You have experience with this?" the Glatorian teased him lightly, but he did slowly begin unfastening his chest armor with careful movements made surprisingly swift by half a lifetime practicing with only one hand.

"I do not," Mata Nui confessed, completely missing any and all implications: "But I do wish to be of help."

"If it would please you, then, be my guest," Ackar smiled. "Though I will say, at the cost of sounding like a frail maiden - take off your gauntlets at least. I'm pretty sure you'd rip my flesh right off of me if it got pinched in your armor."

"I see. That is an unfortunate request."

"Why so?"

"I am physically incapable of removing my armor."

The other just shrugged casually as he pulled off his undershirt: "I can help you with it."

"You are very kind, but I did not mean that it is impractical to fasten or get out of," the otherworlder clarified. He placed a palm on where his clavicle should have been, lightly curling his phalanxes around the edges of the golden yellow metal covering his upper half: "Taking this off would be akin to skinning me."

Ackar responded to the information with a wide eyed stare.

"Ah," he convened finally: "That'd be quite terrible."

"It would indeed, my friend."

"So - hold it, hold it. You've been naked this whole time?"

"I... Would not... Describe myself as such."

"No, no, I mean--" the Glatorian reworded himself as he scooted over, "This whole time, we've been running around fighting for our lives, fending off vicious beasts and Bone Hunters, and you haven't had a single piece of protective gear on you?"

Mata Nui blinked: "I am shielded," he replied.

"I don't mean Click and the whole - thing, that you make him do that turns him into a shield," Ackar said as he settled down with his back to his friend. "I mean something that keeps your soft insides from getting sliced in half at the first swing of a blade, or from getting skewered by the first Thornax launched into the back of your knee."

"I am shielded." the other insisted.

"By what?"

"My carapace."

His fingertips laid on the Tapyri's back, only to retreat in confusion a moment after. Whatever puzzled him was eventually deemed inconsequential, as he returned to study the shoulder blade beneath his fingers in search of any anomalies beneath the skin that could clue him in on where to strike.

"Your what?" Ackar asked.

"My body is naturally armored," he explained without breaking focus: "Much like insects, certain species of reptiles, or likely the Vorox and Zesk from what I could observe of them, I am covered by an exoskeleton meant to protect my organs and sustain my body. It is unclear whether I possess an additional endoskeleton, like you, but I must confess I am not very keen to find out."

"Huh," his friend noted. After a moment, he added: "Because you'd have to be skinned."

"Yes."

"Very fair."

That was quite the load of information.

By all means, this wasn't necessarily the first time they'd heard of carapaced sentient beings - the Fezeri of the Iron tribe had something of the sort, and if you tried searching through their old settlements enough you were bound to find some molts that had survived the passage of time - but they still had bones in them. Like normal people.

And yes, of course, Mata Nui was abnormal under every aspect if you looked at him for longer than two minutes.

But being a huge humanoid bug?

Now that was unexpected.

More than everything else.

Including coming from space. Because even Kiina had imagined that spacepeople would have had bones in them, or at least been aware of having them.

All of a sudden the Glatorian gave a short snorting laugh.

"You're so confusing," he said whistfully, craning his neck back. "By the looks of it one would guess you're just a slightly irregular fellow, and yet you're some sort of alien who's more like Click than any of the rest of us. You're just full of surprises."

"Oh! I suppose that is true," Mata Nui mused.

He sounded somewhat amused by his resemblance to the beetle. Like he hadn't noticed it himself until now.

His fingers slid on what seemed like a slight bump under the oily skin. That must have been the problem, he thought to himself, and without further ado dug his thumb in the spot: against his carapace he almost felt the individual fibers of muscle flatten under the pressure he exercised upon them, the tight knot they were wrapped in struggling not to yield and unfurl.

He didn't quite get the time to focus on that, however, as he was startled out of the tactile sensation by a deep gurgling sound rattling almost right in his audio receptor.

Ackar, for his part, was trembling so much that the flesh folded around the back of his ribs seemed to be trying its hardest to imitate the vibrating tempo of a dragonfly's wings as it raced its peers across the surface of a lake.

"Oh, I think you found it!" he gingerly said before his friend could wonder whether he'd accidentally hurt him - which in a matter of seconds was no longer a concern seeing as the Glatorian all but leaned further into his thumb: "Go on, go on, those bastards are hard to get rid of--"

Another growl reverberated through the otherwise still air, and Mata Nui realized it was coming from directly under his palms.

Ergo, it was coming from Ackar.

He tried digging harder into the skin: the shoulder wiggled around his finger in a very curious way and the gurgling's volume raised a little more, while the trembling returned to rattle through the Tapyri just as hard as it had before.

Sound and tremors repeated in varying intensity as he continued to knead his fingers against the suffering spot, usually accompanied by the body in question trying to recline directly into the pressure much like certain creatures do when gently scratched in specific areas. He deduced these reactions must have been positive ones, meant to communicate a contented or happy disposition - perhaps specific to the Fire tribe? The trembling in particular, with its very visible reverberations all across the being's frame, seemed to require the presence of an amount of skin which was notably higher than what he could glimpse on Gaquri and Lebori alike... Although Ackar was also significantly older than Gresh, Berix and Kiina, and it would not have been wise to rule out the possibilty of age playing an important part in determining the quantity of soft tissue.

Speaking of the skin, though he was very taken with the large splatter-like marks all across his back, there was also something else that was puzzling if not outright concerning him about it.

"You're sweating quite a lot," Mata Nui noted out loud.

Ackar leaned so far into his hand that he almost dropped down right onto the sand.

"Ah - 'sss not sweat," he drawled through the rumbling in his neck: "Don'- don't frrreak out now, ok- 's mucus."

His friend hummed, unbothered: "That explains the consistency."

"Don' worrrrrry about it - 's norrrmal, yesss? We - us Tapyri, we jusss' make it, see... For the, the tem- RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! Sorrrrrry, so'ry... We live near volcanos 'n' open lava pools, so the temp'raturesss would shrrrivel us up..."

"I understand... It keeps you hydrated in otherwise extreme climates."

"Uh-huh... Plus 's easierrr t' wash off the ash like that... Jusss' ssscoop it all off, and the'e, all clean like an oil'd up--" an even more powerful gurgle took over his throat, and he arched his back so much that Mata Nui had to quickly catch him with both hands before he slipped right out of his grip. Now that the Tapyri's face was in view he could note with great interest that his thin teeth were paraded in a wide trembling grin, almost clattering together, and that his eyes were squeezed shut as if he were in great pain - although the effect his expression gave off, even looking at it upside down as the fallen god was, seemed closer to exceptional enjoyment. He watched him mutter a curse under his breath before his voice raised again, slurring in bliss: "A'e you su'e you've nev'r done this beforrre? Y're good!"

"I am afraid I only have theoretical knowledge at my disposal, although in great quantities," his friend replied, a little embarrassed as he laid the other's head down onto his armored legs.

Ackar grinned a little wider as his nape touched down on something pleasantly warm: "Ahhh, booksss, booksss..." he chuckled, wriggling in place, fingers idly pulling the air in uncoordinated motions: "I g'ess they'rrre good f'r sssom'thin', eh?"

His chest jumped with a giddy silent giggle, causing his rumbling to stutter a few times.

Now that he looked at his actual arm better, Mata Nui realized that its back too sported large splatters of different pigmentation. He caught it in his free hand very carefully, turning it over to observe it better while the Glatorian simply allowed him to, maybe not even noticing: their position and shape was not as random as it appeared, but instead seemed to follow an imperfect pattern which mirrored that flanking the man's spine. A quick glance at his prosthesis revealed no such detail on the fake flesh.

Such a curious thing, he mused as he thoughtlessly played with the organic limb - pressing on its palm, lifting it, bending its elbow and wrist to watch the skin crease and muscles tense or relax. He'd seen this sort of appearance on a few creatures along his travels, usually to ward off predators by denoting some sort of poisonous nature... Perhaps the Fire tribe had evolved to secrete a type of venom mixed into their protective layer of mucus in response to threats, or it could have been a strategy of ages past that had managed to survive with each subsequent step they'd taken up their evolutionary ladder for some reason or another.

He'd never had a tongue to test the effects of different poisons personally, and while he might have had one now (though he wasn't sure, since he had not had the time to properly study or think about this body's anatomy much) he was a little uncertain on whether his friend would have appreciated having his fingers shoved in Mata Nui's mouth for the sake of scientific research.

He had come across a few sapient species that considered that a formal greeting, but he would rather not take his chances.

Maybe he could have asked later.

He felt Ackar's shoulders shift and squirm in his lap to get more comfortable, and he returned his attention to him just in time for the Tapyri to open his eyes and meet his gaze in turn.

For a small period of time they simply looked at one another. The otherworlder continued idly moving the other's limb, exercising a gentle pressure upon his palm as he shifted the arm up and down without any rhyme or reason; Ackar himself just let him do as he pleased, only blinking back at him, face stuck in a neutral expression, not making a singular attempt at stopping him.

"Oh," he spoke at last with a nervous laugh: "Well. Hello."

What a strange thing to say. Mata Nui tilted his head slightly: "Hello," he replied in tone.

"I've made myself comfortable, haven't I?"

"If you are referring to your position, I took the liberty to recline you myself in order to keep you from getting injured."

It was unclear if the information reassured the Glatorian or not, as his reaction was to widen his pupils slightly, considerably darken the skin of his nose, and only peep: "Ah."

"You were leaning rather far back. You could have fallen."

"Ah," he repeated. "Thank you, friend."

"It was my pleasure."

Ackar's nose turned a little darker again.

Mata Nui touched it thoughtlessly: its temperature had increased, he mused to himself, so perhaps blood was rushing to that specific spot for one reason or other.

"You might be building a fever," he warned.

"I do not believe I am," the Tapyri replied a little stilted, again with an embarrassed chuckle, "But thanks for worrying."

Concerns soothed, the fallen god dug a digit back in the pained spot and earned another gurgle for his good deed, which reverberated this time across the plates of his legs. He was surprised to find it caused a weird, pleasant sensation akin to a feeling he unfortunately was not sure he had a name for yet.

He returned his attention to his friend: "How is your shoulder feeling?"

Ackar had shut his eyes again, and squirmed in a sort of pleased manner: "Betterrr," he replied, growls now coming from his throat in shorter bursts. He cracked open an eyelid to look at his own arm being maneuvered by Mata Nui's hand as though it were the limb of some sort of machine, losing himself in the feeling of the armored palm and the limp movement of his own joints: "Havin' fun?"

The other followed his gaze, and instantly turned bashful: "Oh - I apologize. I was lost in thought," he whispered sheepishly, placing the limb down on the Glatorian's chest.

His friend cackled: "It's quite fine, it didn't hurt."

Another gargle rumbled through him as the last kink in his muscle was smoothed down.

Mata Nui continued massaging the spot either way, and Ackar continued quietly responding to his kindness with soft purrs; and for a short while, as the desert breathed its tired chill and the winds didn't blow any sand into their eyes or noses or mouths, they simply remained quiet.

Fingertips ran across his arm softly, slowly.

If he concentrated enough he could hear how the barely perceptible sound them scraping the mucus off of one another.

It was terribly comfortable.

Terribly soothing...

A soft monotone stirred him from the torpor he was falling into: "In truth, I was quite taken with your skin's markings."

Without opening his eyes, Ackar turned his head: "Hm?"

"These," his friend explained. He felt him trace an unclear shape on his forearm a few times, gently: "You present an irregular pattern of noticeably different pigmentation both here and on your back. The closest condition I could try to compare it to would be vitiligo, but it does not appear to be anything like it."

The Glatorian hummed softly: "Oh, we just have them... They're common, to us Tapyri. Splatters, spots, dots... Various colors, too..."

"How curious," the otherworlder murmured. He moved from one spot to the other seamlessly, following their borders. "Poisonous creatures often advertise their toxicity to potential predators through similar visual cues."

"Is that so..."

"Perhaps you too have some."

Ackar chuckled as he humored him: "Perhaps I do, who knows!"

"Like a salamander."

"And what is that?"

"It is a term that indicates a family of small amphibians of which many species contain a potent poison within their mucus-covered skin. Their appearance is quite similar to that of lizards, so they are often mistaken for reptiles despite their lack of scales. Land-dwelling turtles often incur into a similar yet opposite misconception, being believed to be amphibians when they are not."

"Hm. And their poison, what does it do?"

"It is deadly in exceptionally small doses and can affect the victim by means of contact with bruised skin, ingestion, inhalation, and injection."

"Oh, I'd like that."

"You would?"

"Yeah, why not? First sand bat to swallow me whole gets a nice surprise, and I take that bastard down with me."

He laughed softly, reclining his head further into Mata Nui's lap.

His yellowish eyes looked up again curved into half moons, meeting the fallen god's own with a lopsided grin: "That'd be a nice little consolation at least, wouldn't you think?"

His friend's glowing irises looked back down at him with a sort of vacuous glimmer.

They were a very nice blue.

The otherworlder's hands were heavily segmented, each articulation encased in a golden shell fitting perfectly against the others. It was really curious how he'd never noticed that until he had his cheeks cradled into one of those palms, weirdly coarse and warm like sand.

Mata Nui looked directly into his eyes: "You are so deeply interesting," he said with such earnest awe.

He sounded so starstruck - he was so starstruck, staring at the Glatorian utterly entranced as though he was marveling at the sight of in the most incredible discovery of this age.

"If the circumstances of our meeting had been different, less wrecked with quests and worries," the fallen god continued, speaking awfully softly as he returned his mellow grip to the Tapyri's hand and began shifting his arm around aimlessly again, to feel the shift of muscle and skin and mucus, "I would have loved to simply watch you live for weeks on end. To take note of your speech patterns, your specific anatomy, how your body moves, how it reacts to stimuli..."

"That," Ackar murmured, breathless: "Is a bit forward - isn't it?"

His friend leaned his head to the side ever so slightly, not blinking.

"At least you should first..."

He choked on his own breath very briefly; he shut his eyes with a little bewildered wheeze and smacked his palm on his face.

Great Beings.

That could have been incredibly awkward.

Mata Nui, who was still holding onto his hand waiting for an elaboration with a fair share of interest on the matter, decided the necessary amount of time for an explanation's request to be polite had passed and curteously encouraged him: "Do continue. I would like to know the proper steps to follow."

But the Glatorian shook his head with a breathy cackle: "Don't- it's nothing, don't think about it. I'm very tired and talking stupid."

"I apologize. I should let you rest, then."

"Oh, no, if you - if you want to talk about something, it's fine."

A surge of warmth radiated from the carapaced fingers wrapped around his hand: "It would not bother you?"

"No, no... You've got a soothing voice really, so it wouldn't... I don't know how long I can listen to you consciously, but if you'd just keep telling me about... Oh, I don't know..."

"Would you like me to continue with the salamanders?"

Oh, he knew that little wiggle that had just shaken his friend's legs. It was the same as Kiina's flapping knees while sitting crosslegged, Gresh's one-handed claps and the weird little laugh Berix sputtered when he saw something he liked way too much.

Mata Nui really wanted to tell him more about those beasties.

Maybe he was excited about the similarities he'd found between them and the Tapyri. Or maybe he just liked talking - he'd always seemed awfully happy rambling to Kiina.

Either way, the little terrors had already gotten in his good graces with their poison, so why not learn more about them?

"I reckon I would," he smiled.

His arm was lifted again, and he could now see the excitement in his friend's eyes: "It would be my pleasure," he assured him. He leaned a little further down, closer to his face: "What would you like for me to start with?"

The Glatorian twisted his mouth for a moment: "To start, to start... The legs, let's go with those. How many do they have?

"They tend to have four limbs, two front and two hind, although certain species completely lack the latter," Mata Nui began without missing a beat: "The number of toes is also variable, but never exceeds four on the front and five on the rear. A rather incredible ability the entire salamander genus can vaunt is that of fully regenerating entire limbs without any trace of scarring."

Ackar hummed, amused, and moved his lone shoulder blade as though its arm was still attached: "That's a real good one, I'll say... Don't quite get the lack of back legs, though."

"Specimens that showcase such a peculiar characteristic tend to be fully aquatic throughout their entire lifetime, so perhaps an additional pair of limbs were considered more superflous to them than they were to other species that maintain an amphibious existence or even turn completely terrestrial upon reaching adulthood - though still favoring damp, cool habitats due to their permeable skin, preferrably near water." the otherworlder explained. Then, as though remembering it suddenly, he added in a slightly humored tone: "Sapient inhabitants of the planet on which I observed these creatures most often associate them to fire, particularly to the ability to resist it unharmed or putting it out entirely. A misconception created by the salamanders' habit of making their nests in rotting logs, from which they would flee when they were placed in the fire, also led to the belief that they were born from flames."

Something else they had in common with Tapyri...

One of their oldest tales, a myth to tell children - they were the spawn of embers, born from ashes still warm of extinguished bonfires, from the glowing rivers trickling down the sides of volcanoes...

Ackar squeezed his eyes hard and forced himself concious. A small sigh escaped him: he was already fighting a losing battle with his eyelids to keep them open, lulled into a thoughtless state by Mata Nui's excited monotone gently and eagerly pouring as much information as he could into his head.

His throat rumbled weakly, its grumbles vibrating against the equally pleased lap wiggling beneath his head - oh, if he could stay awake a little more, just a little more...

"Their diet tends to vary based on their environment and size, but they are known to eat anything the deem large enough," Mata Nui kept going softly, stroking the Glatorian's hand with his thumb: "Among their most common preys are insects such as flies, beetles, cicadellidae, moths, caeliferae and aquatic bugs, arachnids such as mites and spiders, earthworms, hexapods, and various larvae, while larger species may also hunt crabs, small mammals, fish, and other amphibians; in case of particularly scarce resources they might also resort to cannibalizing other salamanders, something that often happens between young specimens. Their jaws have each a row of small teeth capable of bending inward to keep the prey from escaping, sometimes helped by patches of teeth found on their palatine bones and vomer as well to better hold it down - aquatic specimens rely on them to macerate and tear the prey, as their tongues lack muscles and cannot be flicked out to catch food in the way their terrestrial counterparts' can. This is made possible by their ability to secrete a sticky mucus from glands positioned on the roof of their mouth and the tip of the tongue itself..."

And he continued talking for a good couple of hours, droning in the night with his quiet excitement without worrying too much about Ackar's silent snoring adding itself to the sound of Kiina, Gresh and Berix, simply happy to listen to them breathe and live around him and talk, talk, talk about all the marvelous things he'd loved alone until now.

[bowlzone]

Today's cereal is South Korean Oreo O's!

Initial Impressions: Ever since I heard murmurings from the wider cereal community that the South Korean Oreo O's are the superior take on the concept, they have been at the top of my review list. This review is a chunky one, so the rest is under the cut!

Before we get into my thoughts on the box, let's take a detour back to the ancient history of the 90s to understand why these Oreo O's hit different. The original US run of Oreo O's happened between 1997 and 2007, when Kraft (who own the rights to Oreos) and Post (who own the rights to the cereal recipe) had an acrimonious break up. Both unwilling to give up their respective half of the Oreo O key, Oreo O's ceased production in the US. However, this was not the end, for another Oreo O was made. Kraft acquired a Korean food company, Dongsuh Foods, who had the rights to distribute Post products and so a perfect loophole was found. As of 2017 you can get Oreo O's in the USA again, but they are not the original recipe. It's my understanding that the closest you can still get to the 1990s Oreo O is the Korean version, which is still based on that classic recipe, or close to it. I have no nostalgia for Oreo Os as, despite living in the US during at least some of that time, my parents outlawed the consumption of sugary cereals with an iron fist. Now, as an adult in charge of my own sugar consumption, I have never been so excited to eat something. They start strong with a box that is truly a piece of art, featuring what can only be described as a milk elemental in cool shades. The interior, a shiny silver bag that comes with an immensely appreciated re-sealing sticker, is a lot hardier than the clear cereal bags I'm used to and tests my feeble upper body strength in opening it. The chocolaty aroma already promises a sublime cereal experience.

Post bowl thoughts: poring these into the bowl I immediately noticed that they are much more restrained with their marshmallow pieces (or marbits) than American cereals typically are, perhaps because they know the cereal pieces themselves can carry the bowl. The relatively tasteless marbits instead add a nice textural component to the bite, instead of being a main flavour. The cereal itself is truly the star of the show here, with a rich chocolate flavouring and a satisfying crunch that lasts the whole way through the bowl, resisting any kind of sog. It's interesting as the main grain used here is corn, but it avoids all of the disappointing hollow nothingness of other modern corn cereals. Combined with the milk they really are reminiscent of an Oreo, if slightly missing the texture of the the cream. The milk left in the bowl is fine, but its main contribution is to the texture of each spoon here, so I'm not left disappointed that the final slurp is missing a certain allure. These have immediately unseated American Oreo O's from my top five cereals list. Without the slightly over the top sweetness that the US ones have, it feels like you could keep eating these for hours and never get sick of them. Despite the almost unreasonable excitement I held in my heart for this bowl, it did not disappoint. A fantastic cereal.

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

NAH NO ABSOLUTELY NOT TELL MEEE TEEEELLLLL MEEEEEEE WHY I WAS PEACEFULLY SCROLLING TIKTOK AND I SEE ONE COMMENT SECTION FLOOODEEDDD WITH SHIT LIKE "astoria greengrass hate club lol" "astoria haters ⬇️⬇️⬇️" "I can't stand astoria" WHAAATTT WHAT THE FUUCCKK WHAT ARE YOU EVEN ACTUALLY FUCKING TALKING ABOUY WHTA THE VBGAGSJSLW I CANNOT EVEN COMPREHEND WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE ON ABOUT IM GONNA FUCKINGFHFHFJFUFKM WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEEAAANN SHUT THE FYCK UPP OH MY GOD WHAT WHAT DID SHE EVER DO?????

anywayz number one astoria greengrass defender love her so much I will skin your whole body with my teeth if you try and fuck with her that is MY GIRL <3<3<3

[cosmic-kaden]

Mini drabble - waking next to him.

ships: Ben Solo x Kaden Reese

words: 566

Notes: I just had the best dream ever and I needed to make it a mini fic because my heart is so full. I feel like crying right now in a good way!

cw: none just pure fluff.

Banner made by @/cafekitsune

In the quiet of the ship's quarters, where the only light came from the soft glow of the control panels, Kaden laid awake. The universe outside was a silent, endless void, but inside, the world felt small and surprisingly warm. They shared the space with Ben, who seemed to be lost in the peaceful embrace of sleep. His features were relaxed, the usual intensity that danced in his eyes now smoothed over by dreams.

Kaden couldn't help but admire him in these quiet moments. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, the softness of his lips slightly parted. It was a rare sight to see him so unguarded, so serene. They couldn't help the feeling that washed over them, Kaden reached out, their fingers brushing back the stray locks of hair from his face in a feather like touch, before moving to trace the line of the scar on his face, ever so gently as to not disturb him from his slumber.

They marveled at how peaceful he looked, how the harsh lines of his face softened in sleep, making him appear unburdened by the weight he carried when awake.

As if drawn by the touch, Ben's eyelids fluttered open, revealing those deep beautiful eyes that seemed to hold entire galaxies within them. A playful smile tugged at his lips, breaking the silence that had filled the quarters. "It's rude to stare, you know." he teased, his voice low and warm, laced with amusement.

Kaden felt a flush of warmth spread across their cheeks, caught in the act.

The flush to Kaden's cheeks did not go unnoticed by Ben and he smiled a little wider, revealing a cute little dimple on the side of his cheek.

"I couldn't help it," they admitted, their voice a whisper in the quiet ship. "You just…look so beautiful…..and peaceful."

The softness that greeted this confession seemed to pull them closer, the space between them charged with an unspoken affection. Ben's hand found Kaden's, their fingers intertwining with an ease that spoke of familiarity, of countless moments shared just like this one.

"Well…" Ben murmured, shifting to close the distance between them, "Since you're so fond of staring… maybe I should get a better look at you too." His tone was playful, but beneath it lay an undercurrent of something deeper, something that made Kaden's heart beat a little faster.

The world outside the ship, with its star-studded darkness, faded away as they drew closer. What mattered was here and now—the warmth of Ben's body against theirs, the gentle pressure of his lips and the quiet sound of their shared breaths. The kiss was soft, a tender exploration that spoke volumes, a promise of unwavering connection no matter where they found themselves in the universe.

In the dim light of the ship, with no sun to mark the day, time seemed irrelevant. They lingered in each other's arms, content in the silence that followed. The kiss turned into cuddles, their bodies entwined as they sought the warmth and comfort of each other's presence. It was a rare moment of peace—a moment Kaden knew they would cherish, a memory to hold onto in the times when the universe seemed too vast and cold.

Here, in the quiet they found solace in each other's arms, a reminder that no matter how far they traveled or what challenges lay ahead, they had found a home within each other.

If you're not a self shipper I kindly ask you dni with this post <3 i have anxiety lol

[ganonfan1995]

not to vague post, but the fact that the loz lore community is made up of mostly white american men (not on tumblr) makes me wanna scream

I swear to god they'll see some random detail about these games and then write an 80 page dissertation on race theory or some lore about savage and barbaric tribes who regressed from their advanced society of godly superiors.

please can u at least pretend to be able to think of anything creative and nice? worlds ur oyster, hyperfocus on something constructive.

[mid-nightowl]

i am absolutely LIVING for this

[The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing #12]