#I always feel like a handful of people miss out on the pre-orders so I'm trying to be better about reminder posts XD

[comickergirl]

Superfam sticker sheets! (This time with the CORRECT mock-up images. XD) Available for pre-order NOW on my storenvy site; these are print-to-order so I STRONGLY RECOMMEND getting an order in before 3/2/24 if you want 'em, as there are no plans for reprints at this time!

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

bonny lass

pairing: pre-outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader word count: ~1.7k summary: Joel meets-cute you in a pub in Ireland. Two foreigners in a foreign country, that should be enough to share a kiss at the end of the night, right? warnings: fluff! reader is able bodied, no use of y/n, mild alcohol consumption in a pub, a kiss, dm me if I missed any a/n: I'm in Ireland rn and suffer from severe 'romanticizing my life' syndrome.☘️ What if I met Joel here? Can you imagine? The dream™️. As always: @guiltyasdave was waving her pompoms for me from start to finish + being the beta again 💛

The light is dim, the air thick with chatter and dampness. The rain has started again, early this evening, and the people streaming into the pub are soaked. But the bad weather doesn’t affect their good mood.

Joel watches them, fascinated, the way they weave through the crowded space like it’s their element, the way they easily find their spots at the bar, ordering their drinks for the first round. Cider, pale ale, whiskey, Guinness.

A small group of locals gathers in a corner of the pub, taking their instruments out of the cases and the noise of the crowd dies down, just a little bit. Anticipation and laughter fill the air.

The table in the corner, the table he sits at, fills with women and men, the worn mahogany brown table top fills with glasses. A few words are exchanged, but the accents on both sides are thick and so it’s just smiles, hands on shoulders and raised glasses with exclaimed Sláintes.

The Irish have this talent of hospitality, a talent which doesn’t let a foreigner feel lonely. During the day, Joel has Sarah with him, exploring the Emerald Island, exploring the possibility of an Irish heritage, the possibility of belonging. 

But when the sun sets and his child is sleeping safe and sound in the Inn down the street, he has time to himself. The nights are his, his time to explore his own thoughts, to ponder, to watch, to feel homey in a pub. He's alone but not lonely.

Another pint finds its way onto the table, a bracelet dangling from the wrist attached to the hand on the glass. Joel’s eyes wander up the arm and he finds the smile that is connecting you with him.

“Hey! How are ya?” You beam at everyone sitting at the table and they respond with smiles of their own, moving together to make room for one more in their middle. You sit down, next to the man with the strong arms and the hair as dark as the guinness in his glass.

“Hey,” Joel says and clears his throat when he notices that he sounds not as gruff as usual. 

You shrug your coat off your shoulders and the air grows thick between you both with the scent of Irish rain and the twinkle in your eyes. You assess the situation, sense that he is not part of the rest. But that he still belongs somehow.

“Not from around here?” you ask and watch him lean closer to be able to understand what you have said. He shakes his head and smiles wryly.

“What gave it away?”

“Your tan,” you smirk at him and raise your glass. “Sláinte. Here’s to two strangers meeting far away from home.”

“Neither lonely, nor alone.” Joel raises his guinness and smiles, teeth as pearly as the foam on his beer. “Sláinte, darlin’.”

You hold his gaze when you take a sip of your cider, happy to hide the way this stranger makes you smile. Happy to see the corners of his mouth being tugged upwards, making his guinness-black mustache move and dance.

You exchange names and your stories, glances and laughter. And with every time the tart cider bubbles down your throat, every time Joel licks the white foam from his upper lip and beard you feel more at home, here in this pub, far away from the address in your passport.

He insists on buying you your next drink and when he slides back onto the bench with two more pints in his hands, he chooses to sit snug to you. You're not strangers anymore. And who ever really is in a pub?

A pub, he thinks, is a cave. Dark and warm, a place to hide from the rain, from the world. He looks at you, the way you nestle your body closer to his than to the other men you share the booth with. You seem to be at ease, your eyes watching the locals with their instruments finally getting ready to start their session. 

He smiles and when you turn your head to look at him you're smiling, too. 

Come over the hills, my bonny Irish lass Come over the hills to your darling

A single voice, firm and tender starts singing from the one well lit corner, and the chatter dies down immediately.

You choose the road, love, and I'll make the vow And I'll be your true love forever

You sing along, silently, not a single sound coming from you. You know the words by heart and hearing them in a pub, in the middle of nowhere, in Ireland… It makes your heart ache.

It aches from being so full. Happiness, for once.

Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows Fair is the lily of the valley Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne But my love is fairer than any

You feel a strong, warm hand on your back, a soothing caress, a light pull closer to the man with the equally strong, warm body.

“You alright, darlin’?” He whispers, watching you closely, maybe even concerned about the sudden display of emotions on your face.

You nod your head and instead of answering you lean closer to him and bask in the offered comfort. Neither lonely, nor alone, you think to yourself.

The air is filled with rhythm, the fiddles and singing voices seep into your bodies. What were minutes turns into one hour, then two hours.  

A bell chimes, announcing the chance of ordering one last round. Joel tugs on your shoulder before emptying his guinness, a thick blob of foam on his upper lip making you chuckle.

“A last one? My treat.”

You shake your head with a smile. You already feel lightheaded and lighthearted. No need for a last drink. You stir in your seat, stretching your limbs before leaning against Joel's side again.

“I think I'll get going. Having a long day tomorrow, touristy things, ya know.”

He nods his head, placing his empty pint back on the table and holding you close to him with his free hand. A finger mindlessly trails a seam of your shirt, drumming in the rhythm of the music.

“Would you…” you tilt your head and clear your throat, “...maybe bring me? To my B&B?”

“Course I would.”

When you step outside onto the dark street a fresh breeze blows into your faces. It carries the scents of the sea and the land, smelling of salt, earth and rain. The heavy drops that scattered down earlier turned into a tender spray, a barely-there caress that leaves your hair soft and your skin glowing.

The narrow streets of the village lay in silence, the only sounds are the fall of your footsteps, echoing from the ducked houses alongside the asphalt and the faint chatter of people walking the other direction. 

Joel and you walk quietly, side by side. His side felt as empty as yours, not having your weight leaned against him felt wrong after a few hours of shared time and space. Your hands brush each other, a tender and ghostly barely-there caress.

A street lamp sheds light, a blurry hue of yellow and orange, making the dancing particles of mist visible. You turn your head, glance at him, the big Texan man with the dark hair and warm eyes and you see tiny watery pearls being caught in his beard. And curls. And lashes.

“You’re pretty,” the cider in your veins says and it sounds an awful lot like your own voice.

Joel’s lips purse into a smirk. “Oh, am I now?" A brow crooks, mimicking the curve of his nose. “You’re pretty, too, lass.”

Heat crawls up your back and into your cheeks, you mutter a “thanks” and before you can walk out of the soft beam of light, Joel's hand reaches for yours. His big palm against your smaller one holds you back from taking another step and suddenly you’re at his side again, his arm around your shoulders. He pulls you a little closer, closer than before in the pub and you look up at him with big eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he murmurs back, the smirk now softer, a smile, just as warm and tender as his hand cradling your cheek. “You got time, tomorrow night?”

You nod your head and enjoy the way his fingers move along your skin.

Joel’s eyes wander over the details of your face and settle on the shiny pearls of mist hanging on the tips of your lashes. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Dark mahogany eyes, you think as your gazes lock. You lean closer, being pulled towards him without him pulling you. “Can I kiss you?” you ask and you hope that it sounds like the cider in your veins speaking.

Joel chuckles quietly, a comforting rumble in the quiet Irish night. “You sure can, lass.”

His hand shifts, his thumb making himself home just before your ear, the other four fingers disappearing behind it, tilting your head slightly, carefully.

You pull yourself up with your hands on his coat and close the small distance. His mustache tickles your lips before you kiss him and it makes you smile. Your noses touch, your lips gently press against each other and the tip of your tongue tastes him timidly. Malty-sweet and warm. Like Guinness and Joel.

He breathes you in, the scent of rain and of your skin and his hand tugs you even closer. Another kiss, soft and warm, like the light of the street lamp surrounding you. A dog barks somewhere in the distance and Joel rests his forehead against yours.

“Can we do that again, tomorrow?” you murmur and his beard tickles you again.

He nods his head, the tip of his nose nudging yours, his thumb trailing along the shell of your ear. “Course we can.”

‘Course we can,’ echoes in your mind, a little later when you're lying in your bed. The warmth of Joel, the weight of his kiss, it’s still there, on your skin. In your mind. With a soft sigh and a smile you fall asleep.

‘Can we do that again?’ echoes in Joel’s head and he smiles. He still feels the softness of your cheek under his palm and the way your lashes fluttered when you kissed. “What are the chances,” he whispers into the darkness of his bedroom, a stripe of orange light at the ceiling. Maybe it’s the luck of the Irish, two foreigners meeting far away from home, neither lonely nor alone.

comment or reblog to meet Joel in a pub. Or at least have a good time.

find my general masterlist here

the song being the inspiration: Red is the Rose - The High Kings

divider: @saradika-graphics

[thebibliosphere]

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

[woso-dreamzzz]

My Wife

Andrea Medina x Reader

Summary: You've known Andrea for a very long time

The first day you met Andrea Medina, you got married.

It was out in the schoolyard. It was your first day and she came bounding up to you, took your hand and said she was going to marry you.

You were shy so you agreed and you got married to her under the apple tree.

You remained by her side for most of your life. You couldn't even remember what it was like without her.

You were joined at the hip throughout your childhood. You would wait outside of training for her after school so you could get the bus back together. She would hang behind when you went to the library to study. You walked hand in hand everywhere together.

When people questioned it, Andrea would always respond the same way," I married her under the apple tree. I'm just being a good wife."

When you first married her, she gave you a Haribo ring to symbolise your love. It had been eaten by the end of the day.

She gave you a paper ring next. You wore it for weeks on end until one day it was raining and it ripped, falling straight off your finger.

After that came Andrea's own mother's wedding ring, which she had slipped off the woman's finger when she was asleep and brought into school for you. Your parents made you give it back though and Andrea just started holding your hand more in answer.

It was somewhat of a tradition, every year, to find an apple tree and get 'married' all over again. It started off as a cute thing little kids did but feelings developed almost as soon as you both hit puberty.

The change from best friends to girlfriends happened seamlessly for you both and soon Andrea was introducing you to everyone she could like she was bragging about something special.

"Hi, Miss Gallardo!" You said as you waited in the stands for Andrea to finish training.

"How many times have I said it? You don't need to call me Miss Gallardo. Lola is just fine."

Your face went a little red at the correction. "Right. Yes. Sorry, Miss Lola."

Lola groaned good naturedly, shaking her head fondly at you. "Andrea!" She yelled," Your girlfriend's here!"

Usually, after you finished your university classes, you would head straight to training to see Andrea so you were a very familiar sight to see waiting.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Andrea yelled back," She's my wife!"

Lola laughed, tucking you under her arm as she walked you over to your girlfriend. "No ring on her finger, no wife."

"She ate the first one!" Andrea complained, an arm coming out to wrap around your waist.

"It was very sweet," You replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek," And she did get me a ring." You pulled up the silver chain around your neck so Lola could see the ring hanging from it.

She rolled her eyes. "A promise ring isn't a wedding ring. It's like a pre-engagement-ring ring."

"Hey!" Andrea said," Don't be rude about our love!"

Lola laughed. "God, what is it with you kids and speedrunning life? Football career, finding your forever girl. Slow down a bit. You're making the rest of us look bad."

"You don't really need help with that," Andrea teased.

"Be nice to Miss Lola," You said to her," She doesn't have to put up with you."

"Fine." Andrea kissed your cheek and squeezed your waist.

"You should stick around more, y/n. Can you come to practice every day? I've never seen her shut up so quickly."

"Happy wife, happy life," Andrea replied.

"Alright, lovebirds," Lola teased," Off you go. Go be sappy and disgusting elsewhere."

You pulled Andrea after you. She got changed and showered in record time and soon you were walking hand-in-hand down the street.

The walk back was like second nature and you leaned happily into Andrea's side as she took the lead, ducking into a little cafe to get a much needed coffee.

"My favourite married couple!" The old lady at the counter exclaimed as you both ordered.

Andrea grinned triumphantly, puffing her chest out like she did whenever someone mentioned your childhood marriage.

"Our favourite coffee maker!" You say back, putting a hefty tip in the jar.

With your coffees in hand, you and Andrea wandered through a park and up a hill. You dumped your bags just in front of the apple tree.

"Okay," Andrea said, taking your hands and pulling you to stand under it," Ready?"

"Ready."

She cleared her throat and, just like when she was younger and didn't fully understand weddings, said," I love you!"

"I love you too!"

"Marry me?"

"I do!"

"I do!"

She grinned, spinning you around. "I am going to marry you," She promised," Properly."

"Good," You said," Because I'm getting sick and tired of introducing you as my wife without a proper ring."

[tossawary]

Tried watching some of "Star Trek: Enterprise" during work (that's the pre-Kirk one). The emphasis on the fact that Humans and Vulcans have been acquainted for, what, 100 years or so...? Like, okay, this show is going to be about various Human and Vulcan characters learning to get along over the course of the show, I presume, so the show wants them to have a very rocky start. I get that. "Star Trek" is constructed by writers to be a vehicle for heavy-handed "why can't we all just get along" messages and always has been, and that it why it is (and I mean this both positively and negatively) Like That.

But the fact that Vulcans and Humans are apparently so poorly acquainted (and yes, obviously, this is happening in the context of potential conflict with the Klingons and Humans launching out into the rest of space, so tempers are running high) even after all this time is... somewhat amusingly nonsensical from an in-universe, more realistic perspective. It's funny.

Firstly, you'd think that a supposedly logic-based culture that prioritizes cooperation for the purpose of communal betterment (the Vulcans) would have worked out by now that Humans are not going to suddenly all take to the teachings of Surak, and so would have efficiently adjusted their rhetoric to more effectively appeal to Human perspectives. Experienced Vulcans would adapt to structure their explanations and arguments slightly differently, surely?

Like, wow, there's not a single Vulcan ambassador who has studied styles of Human argument and personally found it logical to "speak their language" a little more rather than make huffy appeals to Vulcan authority? Any Vulcan anthropologists or sociologists seeking to understand Human cultures? Realistically, there's no way that all Vulcans would agree 100% of the time on what is logical behavior and what isn't. Some Vulcans might decide that smiling puts Human colleagues at ease and do so (even if they shouldn't HAVE to, Humans shouldn't expect Vulcans to perform emotions for them), because it makes cooperation easier, which is logical.

But that's just not what the writers want here. Which is fine! They want their rocky start here. They're doing their usual "why can't we all just get along" arc, which is fine and great and I'm fond of it, even if I also personally find that "Star Trek" has been incredibly clumsy about their anti-racism stuff most of the time.

(So many shows typically have one Vulcan character regularly on the ship, rather than have, say, two Vulcans with different opinions on things in order to explore interesting discussions on cultural differences and the definitions of "logic". It makes the shows' depictions of Vulcan logic feel a little "tell, don't show" sometimes. I think it's a missed opportunity. Just as it's a missed opportunity not to put neurodivergent Human characters on a ship so aliens and androids don't have to be the stand-ins all the time.)

Anyway, secondly, you'd think that Humans would all know by now that Vulcans don't like handshakes? There's a scene where a Human tries to shake a Vulcan's hand and she ignores him, and I was like, "Okay, wow, INCREDIBLY rude to offer a Vulcan a handshake."

(Side note: I am aware that "Star Trek" repeatedly has Vulcans engage in handshakes with Humans, such as during first contact and when Spock is being introduced to Kirk in "Strange New Worlds", but it always reads to me as Vulcans choosing to go along with the gesture out of politeness. I still think it's a little rude for Humans to offer a handshake in the first place, if they can't accept a refusal with good grace. Plenty of real people across different cultures really don't like handshakes.)

And for an audience member unfamiliar with "Star Trek" and Vulcans, especially a USAmerican, the Vulcan silently refusing the handshake is going to come off as incredibly rude. I haven't watched further but I assume that this scene was intentionally written to demonstrate the issue of culture clash. Two people can deeply offend the other without fully meaning to do so. I'm guessing the Human didn't know just how rude he was being offering the handshake and that the show will elaborate on this.

But, realistically, I cannot fully suspend my disbelief that Humans and Vulcans have been acquainted for 100 years without it being common knowledge that Vulcans don't like handshakes. That would be absurd. Some Vulcan ambassador, familiarizing themselves with Human cultures, would have realized by now that it would not be offensive to inform Humans that, like many Human cultures, Vulcans do not like to make physical contact. And realistically, the Human liaisons, presumably trained diplomats who understand basic politeness and courtesy, would have been like, "We apologize for any previous offense. We didn't know. How do you prefer to be greeted? We will inform our people not to offer you handshakes again and to respectfully greet you in the manner of your preference."

I don't know if these Human characters know yet that Vulcans are touch-telepaths. The Vulcans would not have to share that information to make it politely clear that they don't like handshakes. If it IS known by Humans that Vulcans are touch-telepaths (it would be on their Future Wikipedia page), you'd think people prejudiced against Vulcans would be very aware of the telepatht and more inclined than most not to make physical contact.

Personally, realistically, I would think that any Human expected to make contact with Vulcans would have received a mandatory briefing on manners and basic cultural different. Any Human officer on a ship expected to go make contact with currently hostile KLINGONS and other known Non-Human cultures should be thoroughly educated in basic rules of interaction, for the safety of the ship if not basic civility. So, any Human officer offering a handshake to a Vulcan is either being intentionally disrespectful or is just incompetent (doesn't already know basic facts about the culture of Earth's first, longest, and closest ally) (didn't read the cultural briefing).

This happens in front of the Human captain too, so either the captain doesn't care to call out the offense and apologize (seems likely, he seems pretty hostile here so far) or didn't know it was offensive. Which is also just... stunningly unprofessional for someone who is supposed to be an ambassador for the entire planet of Earth.

And again, the episode is presumably intentionally constructed this way so that the characters can get to know each other later and learn to get along where the audience can observe them. Every single "Star Trek" show I've watched has had protagonist characters be prejudiced and even bigoted in clumsy ways that feel like they ought to be textbook cases of "What NOT To Do" in Starfleet Academy classes, so that the show can deliver basic messages about how prejudice is bad and we all have the potential for it and we can all get better. It is "Star Trek"'s whole thing. "Star Trek: Enterprise" isn't at all alone on this, because all of the shows have done this.

But my goodness is it amusing when a "Star Trek" episode presents a cultural clash problem that more realistically speaking probably would have been better settled about 100 years ago in-universe.

[fallenwhumpee]

"I'll try."

• Masterlist •

Warnings: abandoning, rib injury, knee injury.

Ten year was a short time.

Spent with their sincere feelings, bundled with joy and naive victories, those years passed in a blink. Memories, maybe the only good things circling in their mind, were precious, sincere. Each built up warmth in their chest and fluttered their stomach.

Thinking back, Right Hand knew they were lucky. They were the luckiest person in their small world. They had a chance to work with people they could laugh and cry together. They were lucky that even while bleeding on the floor, they were thrown jokes with worry hidden. They were lucky that each time after work, they were fretted over like a mother cat would do to its kittens.

They were lucky that a decade had passed with their family. And ten years, for that family, was too short. Life was always fast when they were laughing.

But ten years was also too long.

The next decade, spent without any of it, was taxing. Being deprived of the warmth of their captain's arms, their rookie's pranks and their cmo's constant prodding was like a slow acting poison, rotting their mind from inside.

Right Hand would give everything to get those back.

But here they were, sitting in a cafe the team used to hang out, waiting for Youngest— or a call from them. It had been a while. Five years, eight months, eleven days, and seventeen hours to be precise if they counted from their last call with them. But it had been even longer face to face. The team's disbanding was always going to be Right Hand's biggest regret.

The waiter eyed Right Hand once more. Right Hand ordered a coffee just to get rid of that look. Their intention wasn't to invade the space. They were just too early, unable to sit still in their house.

Right Hand stared. They subtly eyed around, but the customers changed from head to toe at least two times. Looking down, they checked their phone once more.

"No coffee today. You're only getting a lemonade."

Right Hand flinched, shooting a glare to the waiter only to see it was Youngest.

Older, different. Even that smile was foreign. How could Right Hand assume they'd meet the same energetic person when it had been too long?

"I didn't think I'd treat myself today. I don't have enough on me."

The handmade lemonade with ridiculously big size was the times of what they'd pay for coffee. They couldn’t afford this— the lemonade and changes on Youngest. Right Hand's will to form a connection was now gone. They didn't think they could accept that this was not the Youngest they remembered. They didn’t want change. Be it their order or their now distanced sibling.

"I don't either," Youngest grinned, drinking half of their lemonade in one go. "But anything we order is pre-paid." The smile faltered. "It was, always. Medic and Leader's arguments about who was gonna pay was always one-sided. This cafe won't make us pay one penny as long as we dont eat the whole buffet. This place owes a favour to Leader, but you know them—"

"They never collect those favours, so the shop sqid its on them every time," Right Hand completed with a bitter smile.

"Yeah. Even though I'm sure they came back every time without us and paid the order." Youngest muttered. They fidgeted a little, hitting their fingers to the glass a few times.

"I missed... I missed the action," Right Hand confessed, their voice tinged with a mixture of longing and reluctance— they didn't know what they were supposed to feel. They glanced at Youngest, trying to gauge if they would grasp the weight of their words. Would Youngest understand what it meant to just... sit back? To watch the people go on with their jobs, to... to just get the news from a few messages every now and then?

"Me too. That's..." Youngest drew a sharp breath, their eyes darting to the side as if searching for the right words. They let out a slow exhale, their shoulders sagging. "That's why I'm here."

Right Hand frowned, a flicker of unease settling in their gut. "What do you mean?" they asked, their tone cautious.

"We... I need you back," Youngest breathed out, their eyes digging into Right Hand's for a positive answer desperately. Youngest leaned forward, their hands gripping the glass. "Officially, I'm asked to see if any of us wishes to return, but I need you. I will refuse the offer if you do, too."

Right Hand hesitated, their gaze dropping to the table as they mulled over Youngest's words. "It's been a while," they murmured, unsure of what to say.

"I know," Youngest admitted, averting their gaze..

"You know why I didn’t stay," Right Hand sighed.

Youngest nodded, their expression faltering. "But I need you. Especially now with Leader missing—"

Right Hand's head snapped up, their eyes widening in shock. "What?"

Youngest's face paled, and they almost shouted in their panic. "You... you haven't heard?" they asked, their voice rising with alarm.

"Youngest," Right Hand warned, their voice low and firm. They were tired of beating around the bush. "Tell me what's going on."

Youngest shrunk back slightly, their voice dropping to a near whisper. "When you decided to leave, we got assigned to calmer positions.. Except Leader," they muttered, their fingers nervously tapping against the glass.

"Get to the point," Right Hand urged, their patience wearing thin.

Youngest swallowed hard, their voice trembling as they spoke. "Leader had been acting like a mercenary, and we lost contact almost a year ago."

Right Hand felt their heart skip a beat, a cold dread settling in their chest. "Maybe something went wrong in their last commission," they suggested, though they didn’t believe it.

Youngest shook their head, their expression grim. "No... They abandoned us. Not— not like that, but they... Leader left. Told us it was their last job and disappeared."

Right Hand kept their head down, trying not to draw attention in the bustling tavern. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the room, and the low murmur of hushed conversations filled the air, adding to the tension in Right Hand's chest.

Right Hand could feel crippling worry crawl its way into their mind. If Leader had gone back to acting like that...

-•-

They didn’t know how all these annoying missions kept finding them, but they had to get this one done. There was no room for error, not now. Not when the higher ups were breathing on their neck.

A single figure sat there, huddled in the furthest corner of the room. While Right Hand couldn't see the figure's face, they recognised the ring on the table. A simple silver ring that acted as only identification even in the agency's detailed file.

Right Hand walked over to the table, tapping it lightly before sitting down. The sound was enough to draw the attention of the person across from them, who slowly looked up, eyes wary and cold.

"I don't have enough on me for a company," Leader muttered, their voice rough, as if it hadn’t been used much in recent days. They glanced at Right Hand, and for a moment, Right Hand though they were being read like an open book.

"You only drank water so far," Right Hand retorted, their eyes narrowing as they assessed the person before them. Leader was thinner, gaunter than they imagined. There was a hollowness to their cheeks, and dark circles framed their piercing eyes. They looked like someone who hadn’t slept or eaten well in days, maybe weeks.

"Is that a problem?" Leader asked, the edge in their tone sharp enough to make Right Hand flinch.

Right Hand shook their head, leaning back slightly in the chair. "No."

"Then what is the problem?" Leader asked, their gaze boring into Right Hand’s, as if daring them to speak.

Right Hand hesitated, choosing their words carefully. They knew how fragile this situation was, how easy it would be to lose any chance of getting Leader back. "Is it your working hours?"

Leader’s expression remained neutral. "Depends."

"Up for work?" Right Hand pressed. They needed this answer, needed to know if there was a chance to bring Leader back into the fold.

"Depends."

Right Hand felt a flicker of frustration rise. They bit back their first answer filled with insults. "Is this the only answer I'll get?" they asked instead.

Leader smirked, though it didn’t reach their eyes. "You won't get a good answer if you don't ask the right questions."

Right Hand let out a slow breath, trying to remain calm. "Ever tired of working alone?"

For a moment, Leader didn’t respond. They simply stared at the glass in front of them, their fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly. Finally, they spoke, their voice barely above a whisper. "Is that an interrogation or an offer?"

"I thought I'd ask questions here," Right Hand scoffed.

Leader chuckled, a sound devoid of real humour sending shivers down to Right Hand's spine. "Not everything goes as we would like. Do you pay well?"

"Oh I—I'm not the employer. I'll probably be in your team," Right Hand admitted. They didn’t want to push Leader too hard, didn’t want to drive them away.

Leader raised an eyebrow, their scepticism clear. "My— is your employer, by any chance, an idiot? I'm not taking responsibility for other people. I don't do office jobs exactly,  y'know. Can't give people insurance."

"You have the experience," Right Hand shrugged.

"And a bad record of completing jobs as I'm asked to," Leader shot back, their tone bitter. They crossed their arms over their chest defensively.

"Yet you do nail the job with your way," Right Hand countered, refusing to back down. They knew Leader’s reputation, knew that when they committed to something, they saw it through—no matter the cost. And possibly with methods that drove the employers mad.

Leader’s eyes narrowed. "Now you're just telling this to get to my good side."

Right Hand didn’t flinch under the sharp tone. "Did it work?"

For a long moment, Leader didn’t respond. They simply stared at Right Hand, weighing their options. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until finally, Leader exhaled and shook their head with a resigned sigh.

"Yes," Leader admitted.

-•-

“Youngest... no,” Right Hand began, their voice laden with the weight of the years they had carried alone. They shook their head, looking down at their hands as if they might find the right words there. “You… really don’t want me - or Leader - back.”

Youngest’s eyes widened, but they got a hold of their face quickly. “I don’t care how things have changed. I need you. And I need Leader. If you know anything about them, please—”

“If I know anything about Leader,” Right Hand interrupted, their voice growing quiet, almost distant, “they’re not the Leader we know anymore.”

Youngest blinked, taken aback by the finality in Right Hand’s tone. “What do you mean?” they asked, their voice tinged with a mix of confusion and concern.

Right Hand met Youngest’s gaze, their expression hardening. “I mean, don’t ask me this,” they said, their voice firm. “You don’t want to find the person Leader might have become.”

“But I need to,” Youngest insisted, almsot yelling. They took a deep breath and continued more calmly. “I know you. You won’t let me down. Neither you nor Leader ever did. Even if Leader changed, you can get them back. You... you tamed the monster once.”

Right Hand suprassed a flinch and let out a long, weary sigh, their shoulders slumping. They hated that Youngest was right— not in tamsing part but still. No matter how much they wanted to walk away, they couldn’t. Not from this. Not when it involved the people they once called family.

Right Hand finally gave up. “I’ll try,” they said, their voice carrying a quiet determination. “But you need to be prepared for what we might find, if we find anything at all.”

Youngest swallowed hard but nodded, their lips pressed into a thin line. “Just… bring them back,” they said, their voice cracking slightly.

Right Hand paused, their gaze softening as they looked at Youngest. “I’ll do my best,” they promised, though a part of them wondered if their best would be enough.

-•-

Right Hand had lost count of how many dead ends they had followed in just three months. Every lead was colder than the last, every contact more hesitant to speak. The trail that Leader had left behind was barely more than a whisper—scattered rumours that always ended absurdly, as if it was purposefully set up.

But Right Hand wasn’t ready to give up. Not when they had seen the look in Youngest’s eyes, the hope clinging to the edges of desperation. Not when they owed it to themselves, to the family they once had, to find Leader and at least try to bring them back.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally found a lead that seemed promising—a small, rundown apartment on the outskirts of a forgotten town. The odd tenant paid rent in cash, kept to themselves, and was rarely seen except for the occasional late-night trip to a nearby convenience store. If Right Hand wasn’t so desperate for a lead, they could've overlooked it.

In the blink of an eye, Right Hand stood outside the door, their heart pounding in their chest. They had no idea what to expect on the other side. They weren’t even sure they were ready to face whatever—or whoever—they might find.

Taking a deep breath, Right Hand knocked on the door. There was no answer. They waited a moment before knocking again, louder this time. Still nothing. Anxiety gnawed at them as they fumbled for the set of lockpicking tools they hadn’t used in years.

They moved in after breaking in, their footsteps heavy on the worn wooden floor. In the dim light, Right Hand could make out the remnants of someone’s life—an unmade bed, a table cluttered with empty bottles, a chair knocked over in the corner.

Right Hand's eyes darted around, taking in the sparse, almost desolate surroundings. There was something about the place that felt wrong—a heaviness that hung in the air, pressing down on them as they cautiously stepped forward.

A faint rustling came from the couch, the backrest blocking Right Hand's view. Their breath caught in their throat as they turned toward the sound, their heart pounding louder with each passing second.

"Who's there?" they called out, their voice steady despite the fear gnawing at them from the inside.

The rustling stopped, followed by a low, pained groan. Right Hand's grip tightened around the handle of their gun, their eyes straining to see through the dimness. Slowly, a figure rose and turned back, and Right Hand's heart sank.

Leader.

They looked different— worn down but not completely defeated. Their clothes were rumpled and faded, as if they'd been worn for days on end. Their hair, still mostly neat, was streaked with grey that hadn’t been there before. And their eyes - those once bright, determined eyes - were clouded with exhaustion and something else Right Hand couldn’t quite place.

But despite it all, Leader still held themselves with a certain dignity. Even the hollowness in their cheeks and the dark circles under their eyes told a story of sleepless nights, there was still a spark of the person Right Hand once knew— or Right Hand wanted to see it that way.

Leader blinked, as if trying to focus on the figure standing before them. For a moment, they looked confused, as if they weren’t sure if Right Hand was there. But soon, Leader’s expression shifted from confusion to something more guarded— almost defensive.

"Right Hand," Leader rasped, their voice rough from disuse. They straightened up slightly, trying to pull themselves together, though the effort seemed to cost them dearly. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Right Hand replied carefully, trying to keep their tone neutral, non-threatening. "I’ve been looking for you."

Leader let out a short, humourless laugh, though it sounded more like a cough. "So you finally found me," they muttered, running a hand through their hair in a weary gesture. "Congratulations. You can go back now and tell people that  I’m still alive. Just what I needed."

Right Hand shook their head, refusing to let Leader brush them off so easily. "That’s not why I’m here," they said firmly. "I’m here to bring you back."

"Back? Where?" Leader spat. They stood up, their body bandaged. Right Hand could see a makeshift rib corset peeking under their shirt, and Leader's knee was properly braced— more of a mobility choice rather than caring about their health, in Right Hand's opinion.

Leader’s sharp tone cut through the stale air, the bitterness in their words evident. They leaned heavily on the back of the couch, trying to steady themselves as they stared at Right Hand with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"Back where?" Leader repeated, their voice lower but no less biting. "There’s nowhere to go back to. The team is gone. That life… it’s over. It was never my life to begin with."

"No, it was!" Right Hand snapped. "Leader, we are from the same fabric. I know what must be done, and I know what's really eating you alive. You have to take what is yours. Will you let Youngest think you abandoned them?"

Leader's gaze hardened, their posture stiffening as they straightened up, wincing slightly from the effort but also stepping closer, towering over Right Hand. "But I did leave them behind," Leader almost snarled. "You’re delusional if you think I can be any help. Look around you," they gestured vaguely at the rundown apartment, their eyes narrowing. "I'm in no state - and mood - to play the same game. I'm not interested in anything you have to tell."

Right Hand clenched their fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "You don’t get to decide that," they said, their voice steady but firm. "We need you, Leader. Youngest needs you. And deep down, you know you need us too."

Leader’s expression wavered for a moment, a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or doubt—crossing their features before they quickly masked it with anger. They scoffed, turning away. "Need is a dangerous thing, Right Hand. It makes you weak. It blinds you. You don't need me."

"And what I need, then?" Right Hand pressed, refusing to let Leader retreat into themselves again.

"You ned to move on," Leader began, their voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, "I’m not the person you remember. I’m not the leader you followed. And I won't be that person again. You need to move on and forget."

"I don’t believe that," Right Hand said with a determination that cut through the tension in the room. "And I don’t think you do either. We’ve all changed, Leader. None of us are who we were, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way forward."

Leader shook their head, exhaling a shaky breath as they rubbed a hand over their face. "You don’t get it," they muttered, their voice wavering. "You’re holding on to a ghost. The person you’re looking for… they’re gone. There’s nothing left to bring back."

"That’s not true," Right Hand insisted. "I can see it in your eyes—there’s still a part of you that wants to fight. You never back down from your duty."

Leader’s eyes darted away, unable to meet Right Hand’s gaze. They looked like they were carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, the burden of their own self-loathing almost too much to bear.

"Why did you run?" Right Hand asked, their voice gentle. "Why did you leave and get away from what made you happy?"

Leader’s jaw clenched, their fists tightening at their sides as they wrestled with the question. "You were keeping things together. It was always you." they admitted after a long, painful silence. "When you decided to back down, i tried. I really did, but... things fell apart."

"Running away didn’t help anyone, least of all yourself," Right Hand replied, their tone softening with understanding. "I had to leave. You knew, and I'm grateful you never blamed me for it. But it wasn’t me. You kept us together when I couldn't. For years. You tried, and it didn’t work. But that doesn’t mean we should give up on each other— or ourselves."

Leader’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of them as they sank back onto the couch, the weight of their guilt and despair pulling them down. "I can't do it again," they whispered, their voice trembling. "I don’t even know how to help myself, let alone the team."

Right Hand sat on the table in front of Leader. "You’re still here," they said firmly, gripping Leader’s hands in theirs. "And that’s enough. We’ll figure out the rest together. You’re not alone in this, Leader. We will all try this time. You won't have to keep us together."

A tear slipped down Leader’s cheek, and they quickly brushed it away, but not before Right Hand saw the vulnerability in their eyes—the pain, the fear, the longing for something they thought they had lost forever.

For the first time in a long time, Leader allowed themselves to lean into the comfort Right Hand offered, the warmth of their touch grounding them in a way they hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity.

"I don’t think I can do it," Leader murmured, their voice trembling. "But… I’ll try."

Right Hand nodded, their own eyes misting over as they squeezed Leader’s hands. "That’s all I’m asking."

[ambrosiagourmet]

Gimme a Kabru for the ask meme

Ahhhh hi I'm still doing this I will finish them let's go

Kabru!!

First impression

Once again gonna go for a pre-reading impression, bc honestly I really think the fandom osmosis impression I got was so off imho. So, Kabru first impression:

what if there was a hater. in the dungeon. :0

Impression now

I LOVE HIM... He's constantly agonizing over everything he does and the impact it could have and the big picture and its gonna burn him out completely someday if he doesn't slow down and realize he's allowed to live for himself sometimes. In a story chock full of survivor's guilt he is Mister Survivor's Guilt. He feels like he needs to do something to earn his existence, and that's such a heavy burden he has put on himself. Ough.

Favorite moment

There are a ton of little parts from the story that I love, but I actually want to highlight this bit from one of the Adventurer's Bible comics that lives with me:

I don't know, there's just something... something about it. Allowing Mithrun the privacy of his own story is such a strange kindness. Who else but Kabru could have thought to provide it?

Kabru, who wears Utaya across his shoulders everywhere he goes, but also never shares much about his mom, his food, the things he misses from Utaya. Or the superstitions about his eye color, and the ways that even the place he misses most wasn't always a kind home to him. Kabru, who has learned exactly how to cut up the piece of his own story in order to be able to hold the weight of them all and do the things he needs to do.

Kabru looks at Mithrun, someone who doesn't have the ability to care for himself, and provides this service to him. Offers him privacy. Privacy. The people around Mithrun have cared for him for years, but who has given him this?? Food, sleep, water, basic hygiene... but Mithrun deserves dignities beyond that too, even if he isn't able to ask for them.

And Kabru takes his eye for creating palatable stories, which he has often used to make himself fit in or force himself through unpleasant things, and uses it to help Mithrun in a way that no one else had.

Idea for a story

I don't have anything super specific here, just a GREAT DESIRE for post-canon Kabru stuff. I want to see him and Marcille become friends. I want to see him struggle to figure himself out now that his driving motive has been resolved. I want to see him forced to consider that he can't always do things for the Bigger Picture. I want to see how his relationships with his party members change. I want to see the adventures of the Laios - Marcille - Kabru trio. Pleaaaaaaase

Unpopular opinion

He's not just a hater in a dungeon.......

Like for sure his feelings about Laios are complicated and boy can they include Haterism, but also he is like the only person who vouches for Laios at certain points. Kabru intentionally chooses to have faith in him at several key moments, and the ending of the story hinges upon that faith.

I think he's got a very black and white way of looking at things sometimes, and he likes to be in control. This is where the haterism can come in.

BUT there's so much more than just that to him. Kabru is an extremely caring person in general. He notices details about people and often uses those observations to care for them - Mithrun in the example above, for instance, or the way that he thinks about how hard it would be for Rin to go back to the elves when considering whether to hand the dungeon over to them. He has a strong sense of justice. He is loyal to his promises.

I just wish those elements of his personality were given more significance in the fandom :/

Favorite relationship

Gotta go with him and Mithrun here. They bring out such interesting sides to each other. Some of my favorite moments are them surviving in the dungeon together, and of course that comic is one of my fave moments. The way Kabru understands him and continually chooses to use that understanding to provide kindness and support to Mithrun... it's good.

But also I think that Mithrun gets to a core part of Kabru that Kabru usually tries to keep hidden. Some part of the survivor's guilt, I think... the way Kabru is driven by a sense of obligation to a thing he Cannot Ever Bring Back.

They both pull something out of the other that no one else does, at least over the course of the story.

Favorite headcanon

Hmmmmm... does "he and Marcille will be besties someday" count? I think it counts. I love the idea of them being gossip-heads.

[froggyfics]

I Miss You, but I’ll Never Say it to Your Face

Jason tries to forget.

I'm trying to get better at writing smut. PLEASE tell me if this is good or not. It's so awkward lol.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome! 

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader, Jason Todd x fem!OC

Theme: Angst, Smut

Warning: unprotected sex, p in v penetration

Word Count: 1,096

The door to his apartment slams open, the door handle hitting the wall, but he didn’t pay that any mind. If you were here, you would have reprimanded him, reminding him to be more careful. He was always oblivious to his own strength, and how easily he could break things.

He kissed her with passion, leaving dark purple marks across her jawline, neck, and chest. He missed having someone to kiss.

Jason pulls her into the apartment, slamming the door closed. He didn’t care. You weren’t here to scold him. 

“Take it off,” she whispers.

Jason follows her orders, stripping off his jacket, and then his shirt. She fumbles with his belt, while he kicks off his shoes. He shoves her towards his bed, and she giggles as her back hits the mattress. 

No one has laughed in his apartment in a while. It was nice to hear. 

He fools around with her for a while. They get tangled up within the sheets. His bed no longer smells like you, thankfully. 

He starts at her lips and goes south. He leaves sloppy kisses on her neck until he reaches her nipples. He looks at her seductively, then encircles one of them with his mouth. She hisses as he toys with it, pulling, sucking, and licking. He does the same with the other. Her hands tangle in his hair. 

He’s there, but he’s not really there. It’s like his physical body is functioning, but his mind is elsewhere. It’s with you. As his fingers play with her clit, and his mouth suctions to her nipples, he wonders about you.

Where are you right now? Are you at home sleeping? Are you finally finishing that show you told him about? 

Or are you out? Did you…meet someone else? Are you doing the same things that he’s doing? Are you taking other people home? 

The thought of you with someone else infuriates him. He needs to be distracted before he spirals again.

He suddenly detaches himself from her. She’s completely bare, waiting for him. He pulls down his boxers and her eyes widen.

He chuckles. Her reaction reminds him of your first time with him. You thought he was too big.

“It won’t fit!” you whimpered. 

He kissed you lovingly, despite your protest. He would never hurt you, he said. He sucked, and licked, and stretched you until you were begging him to put his cock in you. You came three times that night. 

He’s lost in his thoughts, but he feels her hands on him. She puts his cock in her mouth, her hand moving in tandem with her tongue. Saliva and pre-cum dribble down her chin. It feels so good. Or at least, good enough for him to forget. 

He pushes himself off her and climbs back on top. He gives her one last kiss before angling himself at her entrance. He delves in slowly and they groan in unison. He admires her blown out pupils, gaping mouth, and reddened face. She’s objectively a beautiful woman. In another life, he might’ve given her a chance.

But he doesn’t want her. Well, he wants something warm to put his dick in. But he doesn’t want her. She’s just another notch in his belt. Another nameless body for him to use in order to forget.

Sweat starts to prickle across his entire body. She’s incoherent at this point, muttering obscenities and instructions to keep going. 

Jason knows exactly what to do to make this night unforgettable for her. He knows because he’s done this on you countless times before. He pulls himself back up and firmly plants his knees on the bed. He places his hands on the back of her thighs and pushes forward, to where her knees nearly touch her shoulders. 

“Oh, yes!” She’s nearly screaming now. She chants it over and over again. 

He’s nearly to the finish line, but he’s a gentleman in bed. He doesn’t dare finish until she does it first, her thighs quaking as her orgasm takes over. When the aftershocks of it finally die down, he pulls out and sprays his cum on her stomach. It’s not ideal. When he was with you, he’d cum deep inside, but he has to make do with the situation. 

The bed shakes as he plops down beside her. They’re both breathing heavily, regaining some semblance of reality. The dopamine and oxytocin released after sex make him feel like he’s on top of the world. 

The effects don’t last long. He’s soon walking her out the door and they embrace one last time before he closes the door on her. He walks back to his room to immediately strip the sheets and replace them with fresh ones. The shower is his next priority. He doesn’t want to go to bed and smell her on him. 

She reminds him of you. They all do. They’re not you, but he can at least pretend that they are when they’re in his arms. He can never replace you, but he can sure as hell try. 

He feels his exhaustion aching his bones, but he finds himself staring at the ceiling for hours again. Jason groans and reaches for his phone. He opens his contact list and scrolls until he finds your name. 

Should he call? The temptation to do so is so strong. 

No, he shouldn’t. He can’t have you knowing you’re on his mind. Not after all this time. 

His blood boils with anger thinking of all the fights he had with you. It was always your fault. You always wanted more. You could never compromise. He shouldn’t beg for you back. You should be the one calling him up.

Did it really end because of your faults and mistakes alone? Was he a perfect angel during the entire relationship, and you were the imperfect demon? He didn't know anymore. Or rather, he didn't want to remember. It hurt less to push down the memories than it did to rehash them all over again.

He throws his phone back down and closes his eyes. The anger lulls him to the first stage of sleep. Before he falls into deep slumber, he thinks of you and how you used to sleep beside him. You used to be the reason why he woke up every morning, ready to face anything the world threw at him. But now, you’re the reason why he falls asleep bitter and angry, ready to face the darkness that sleep provided before the eventual agony of the sunrise. 

[fallingdown98]

Shout out to Fantasy High Junior Year to get me to post original thoughts on here for the first time on years - Thought after Episode 15, The Last Stand, spoilers ahead

Based on what happened with Buddy, Brennan's callout of "what was loaded into that crossbow?", and Brennan saying in AP that killing Buddy was always on the table this is what I think Kipperlilly Clerickiller's plan was (Also ty Fandom I will be using this forever now)

1. Snuck in with Buddy when the Last Stand was being set up. (Saw some people questioning how she managed to get in, I truly think it's as simple as this)

2. Steal both Buddy and Kristen's diamonds to ensure no reviving can occur

3. I think the plan was to shoot the proctor with rage crystals, causing him to hulk out and depending on timing, no one to stop more monsters from arriving.

4. Based on where she was standing, I think the goal was to blame the crossbow bolt on Buddy and then leave still undetected with Oisin's prepped plane shift

4a. I still think Buddy dying was always part of the plan but I think the goal was to get the Bad Kids to have to ruin their own situation (Having to kill the hulked out proctor, seeing Buddy as an enemy and targeting him, being stuck because if Kristen had used her 7th level slot then they would at minimum be stuck for 8 hours assuming they all managed to survive if the monsters were still coming)

5. Theory here and we'll see if it proves correct but my immediate thought when Buddy died was that KLCK is planeshifting to the Celestial plane and hoping to use Buddy to sneak into Sol's office like when Aguefort snuck in through Kristin's backpack

6. Once in Sol's office, she would be where YES! Was originally created and the reason Bakur supposedly failed his ritual is that he needed to be in a place where a god had been created in order to rez a God.

7. Chaos ensues when corrupted Ankarna is brought back

8. Profit??? I guess??? Tbh the exact reasoning of the Ratgrinders is still the most elusive thing to me. I think my current most likely thought is that Jace is serving as manipulator and that KLCK is the most "lost in the sauce" as it were what with her pre-established anger issues.

Since we only saw a hand I'm reserving judgement on Oisin as he may have only been aware of his part of the plan and not the rest of what Miss ClericKiller has been up to. Not attached so I'm also down for him to be full evil but I'm just not sure yet.

Another thought I had is that the Ratgrinders may yet mirror the Bad Kids not just in class, but also in personal problems.

Ruben and Fig both having identity crises but Ruben has isolated himself so much he's turned to being a lackey

MaryAnn just doing what she's doing because she's good at it, not because it's something she's passionate about

If Oisin's dragon relative is evil and he's going along with the plot because of that, that would mirror Adaine breaking away from her own evil parents

Don't know enough about Ivy to have thoughts on her really, buddy and Lucy could probably be their own post tbh, and as I can't get a lock on Kipperlilly.

Jawbone seemed convinced she was just misunderstood and jawbone usually has a pretty good read on people. But then she's smiling while murdering Buddy and teleporting away. Why does she hate Riz specifically? Is it something he did or is it more generic jealousy (or a crush but I don't care for that theory personally and doesn't feel super supported currently)?

What's the deal with the rage soil and how did they place a rune of Ankarna's name on Yolanda/Lucy if it was unknown at that point?

Anyway, feel free to reblog or tag with thoughts, I'm so excited to unravel more of this mystery.

[scraplette]

This is random but I noticed you mention you were a big Rung/Skids shipper and I'm curious about something. I wasn't active in the fandom where MTMTE/LL were coming out and I feel like I missed huge discourse or something, because I'm really confused about why I have always seen Rung/Fort Max and Rung/Whirl and MegaRung everywhere but nobody seems to ship Rung with the guy he was super close with from the beginning and committed suicide thinking about and coughed up crystals over? I know it's not because it's wrong for therapists and patients to date because all of those people were Rung's patients. Do you know why this is?

Hello there! Sorry for the late response, I wanted to do this on desktop and just hadn't found the time.

You've sent a really interesting question but, I'm sorry, I'm not sure I have an answer for you. Heck, even at the time the comics were coming out I was always surprised by the lack of content for the ship. There was some discourse about Rung dating paitents but, funnily enough, Skids was never really a part of it. He wasn't really considered by the fandom as one of Rung's paitents so it wasn't an issue. The storyarc we the readers found out that Rung was treating Skids, was also the same arc where Rung quit. You did have some folks producing some excellent content for it(@littlestowl is still hands down my fave writer for this pair and @herzspalter did some hecking good fanart!) but never to the same extent as other ships. Not gonna blame people for that, we all have our preferences! Live and let ship and all that! So, since I had no anwers of my own I decided to counsult THE COUNCI(my friends who like Transformers) for their opinions and they came up with the excellent points. We even gathered DATA(we looked at Ao3 XD) Nothing definitive, of course, because obviously we're just a group of robot fans and can't speak for every TF fan on the net. These are just our thoughts and general vibes. 1) Rung is just so darn shippable. He potentially works well with a lot of characters and was pulled in lots of diff directions. Speaking as the main Rung/Skids shipper of the group I sort of get this(stupid sexy Rung) but even with all the diff ships sailing Rung/Skids still seemed oddly small in comparsion. 2)Another friend brought up a good point, Rung/Skids are a lovely ship but they're very wholesome and nice. Now, there is nothing wrong with that but you can't deny that spicy ships oozing with, as they put it, DRAMA just get folks excited. Lots of the other ships had this in spades. 3) Another friend had a lovely thought to add to this and I agree with it 100%. I'm just going to quote them directly "Which is kinda a shame because they have other kinds of cool drama - Rung basically compromised his position for Skids! Skids revived Rung's memory! The non-goodbye! But not conflict -drama." 4)Perhaps the venn diagram of Skids fan and Rungs fans didn't neccisarily crossover. Looking at the DATA, we can see that the most popular ships for Skids(in order) were SkidsSwerve, SkidsGetaway, and SkidsRung. I'm not sure if the Getaway fics were written pre or post betrayl.

5) Not really important but something I thought was a cool detail. Rung/Skids was really popular in the Japanese side of the fandom. I even own a physical doujin anthology for the pair! I can't remember any names of the top of my head, it's been years, but there were lots of lovely pieces of Rung/Skids fanart on the JP art sites.

I'm always a little sad about Rung/Skids. I always thought here were always lots of hooks throughtout the story that could lead the pair to more. Lots of little quiet personal moments just for the two of them. Like, Skids defending Rung against Getaway's snide comments. Ratchet sending Skids to Rung because he things the little chap is lonely. That final weirdly tense exchange between them will always sit a bit oddly with me. I know at the time there was a theory that Skids might've been into Nuatica at the time but nothing seemed to come of it, so I geuss we'll never know. I think I remember reading that Alex Milne didn't realise that would be their last interaction together, otherise he would've done the panel differently* Thank you for your ask! It was lovely to look back on old fandom memories ^_^ I hope I gave you some insights. As for myself, I'm hoping to get back into fic writing so no doubt I'll be adding to my collection of Rung/Skids drabbles.

*IMPORTANT UPDATE EDIT THING! I couldn't drop the final goodbye between them and the Alex Milne thing(it was nearly a decade ago so I was worried I'd misremembered) so I hunted down the original tweet and I've misremembered!

Sigh, what a shame that the final on-page interaction of my fave ship is forever off key and weird because of Writer/Artist miscomunucation :<

[welcometololaland]

I know you're off line right now, so ignore this for as long as you want (or forever) - but you sent me such a lovely nice ask week ask, so I want to come into your inbox and ask one too.

I know you live in Australia, but you've traveled a lot in Europe - so my question is, what do you do on the flights? How do you keep yourself entertained and not twisted into a pretzel shape by the end of it?

hi lim! thank you for this 💜 what an interesting question! honestly, i'd love to know other people's theories on long-distance plane travel, because i feel like i'm no master.

that being said, melbourne to anywhere in europe requires a solid 12.5 hour flight and then usually another 6-8 hour one one on top of that, so i do have SOME travel tips. i think these are my best ones, but i'd be SO KEEN to hear others :)

if you're flying through any major airport (abu dhabi, dubai, singapore, doha, etc.) remember that they will make you do security again just before you go to your gate. this means it is imperative you do not fill up your water bottle in the airport unless you have time to drink it! i've been forced to down so many litres of water just to get my bottle on the plane (for some reason they never have taps near the gates?!).

sleep is your friend. personally, i don't bother with timezones, i just try and get as much of it as i can. i know this is controversial, as some people like to time their sleeping with their destination, but honestly i think sleeping on planes is patchy as it is so you may as well sleep when you're tired. there's an art to this too - i order an alcoholic drink with the first meal service (usually just after take-off), and use it to make me a little drowsy. during the post-meal coffee service, i forego any tea, coffee or sodas and have a cup of plain hot water. that usually lets me go to sleep as soon as the cabin lights go off. bring a sweater so you're warm enough, wear comfy clothes and warm socks and don't be afraid to ask for extra blankets if you need them - sometimes planes can be SUPER cold. also, use the free mask/earplugs they give you if you can (the earplugs do some weird sensory shit to me so i can't handle those, but the mask is usually great).

if you have any dietaries whatsoever, don't forget to order specific meals. this means you never miss out, even if you are asleep when the trolley comes around. you can always request it later. one time i forgot to put in meal requests on a 12.5 hour flight it was torture. i had to survive on apples.

always bring a charged laptop (preferably with a lot of fic or netflix shows pre-downloaded) and headphones. you can never guarantee what movies they're gonna have and honestly i find my own entertainment more worthwhile. books are a little dicey because if you're flying at night and they turn the cabin lights off, you don't wanna be that asshole turning the overhead light on while the person next to you is trying to sleep.

if you know your bladder sucks, PLEASE choose the aisle seat (that is me - aisle always).

if you're travelling with one other person and you're on an A380 or similar, there's usually an option to pick a seat right down the back of the plane with rows of 2 rather than 3. this changed my life when i discovered it. as long as you have the patience to wait 2223847 years to de-plane, it can be so handy because you never have a random between you and you can a) get better sleep and b) go to the bathroom whenever you want.

ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS carry baby wipes. You'll need them for your hands, when you spill something on yourself or (on the 12.5 hour flight) your underarms lol. Also, please for the love of god wear shoes in the bathroom.

during stopovers, try to find the most random bathroom available (good idea to go for a walk if you have the time), set up shop, and do a cleanse. brush your teeth, brush your hair, wash your face, apply some lip balm (plane environments are super drying, especially for that long). i always carry a small toiletries bag (making sure you're not carrying liquids over 100ml) in my carry on. it makes you feel SO much better. you can also do this when you get to your destination, just before you leave the airport (before/after baggage collection).

bring a phone cable. sounds stupid but the amount of times i have forgotten one...

travel as light as possible with carry on. my personal favourite is to have a backpack with my charger, laptop, a sweater/jumper and small toiletries bag, and then i also carry a fanny pack-type bag that can be shoved into the top of my backpack. the separate small bag is super handy walking around airports though because you can have your wallet, phone, boarding pass and passport on you at all times and really easily accessible. this hack will also save you SO MUCH TIME at security check. if you travel light, you'll find it so easy separating out your laptop and liquids at any check in.

[mcl4r3n]

Enchante

Tags: dando, pre-slash, yes this is based on the fact that we saw Danny and Lando sitting together while Lando wore Echante merch!!!!

---- 💛💙🩵----

"It looks good on you," Daniel says, leaning in closer when Lando pulls the yellow shirt over his shoulders and buttons it up.

Lando can't see himself just yet. They're sitting on the ledge with the waves crashing behind them and the music blaring around them, but he'll take Daniel's word for it.

"You really didn't have to, mate," Lando replies, feeling the material over his arm. It's breezy, comfortable. He's gonna ask Danny later who his supplier is because this shirt is top-notch. "I could have just ordered it myself."

Daniel laughs, knocks his shoulder into Lando's. "Can't. It's sold out already."

Lando rolls his eyes, unsurprised. "Of course, hot shot fashion man."

"You know how it is, baby," Daniel says. He spreads his arms out and winks at Lando like the obnoxious shit that he is, but Lando basks in that anyway. It's been so long since he and Daniel have had a chance to just relax and catch up, especially while Lando isn't mired in misery.

Daniel's the one to bring it up, of course, congratulating him on P9 from yesterday.

Lando shrugs one shoulder. "Eh. It's better than nothing."

Daniel leans in again, and his lips almost brush Lando's ear when he says, "You and I both know that you worked a miracle out there yesterday."

Lando tries not to fixate on the hint of touch on the shell of his ear. He'll combust otherwise.

"Mate, when the rain came, I thought I was done for. Someone interviewed me yesterday and asked if I could describe it and—"

"No one else gets it," Daniel finishes for him. "Monaco's hell on a good day. Rain in the mix? That coulda gone sideways every other second."

Lando nods, takes a sip from his virgin piña colada. That's what Lando's always appreciated about making friends on the grid, and about finally becoming good mates with Daniel. No one else gets it unless they've been in a car themselves.

It's taken a while for Lando to finally relax around Daniel. There was a period there where he used to quietly blame himself for Daniel's misery, and tried to avoid him because he thought that giving Daniel space was what he needed to do.

But evidently that didn't fly with Daniel, especially not on this weekend when there were good results for Red Bull and McLaren all around, and they were on familiar ground. They were in Monaco. They were home.

Lando couldn't avoid Daniel forever, and when Daniel invited him to meet him and Scotty at the beach club, it was impossible to turn him down.

And now he's here, sitting next to Daniel, pressed up against his thigh, pretty much, wearing Daniel's shirt that he took off after Lando complimented him on it.

"You look really happy, DR," Lando hazards to say. He tries his best to keep his eyes on Daniel, tiny, foolish crush on him be damned, and Daniel smiles so radiantly that Lando kind of wishes he hadn't said anything.

"I am," Daniel replies. "Didn't know how much my fucking back needed a break until I took one, y'know?" He laughs again, tips back his fruity cocktail and smacks his lips.

"But you'll be back, right?"

Lando hates the way his voice sounds small when he asks the question. He's seen all the interviews. He knows the chatter that goes on in the paddock whenever Daniel says something that alludes to coming back next year, but he needs to hear it for himself. He needs the reassurance that one of his favorite people on earth is gonna be on the grid again.

"I miss it, mate," Daniel says, and then smacks Lando's knee with his hand. "I miss you! So, yeah, I'm workin' on it."

"Next year?"

The hope in his voice is evident, but Daniel's PR training seems to be kicking into high gear right now. It's a little disappointing, but it's also expected.

"How red do you think Zak's face would be if that news dropped right now, eh?" Daniel laughs again, but then he sobers up, schools his expression into something more serious. "Nothing's set in stone but. . . I do wanna be back. Hopefully next year." Daniel flexes a bicep that shows when his shirt sleeve rides up, tattoos bulging out in the movement. "Ain't done just yet."

Lando takes it. He'll take anything. "Good, so I can race your ass again."

It's an easy trap he laid for himself, not having to say out loud what they both already know, that there is something inherently wrong with the concept of the McLaren, but Daniel, bless him, does not settle for cruelty.

Instead he says, "Yeah, you gotta make it worth being back on the grid for me," and clinks his drink against the last of Lando's.

They lapse into quiet, comfortable silence again, broken only when Scotty turns his phone camera to them and yells for them to pose for a photo.

Daniel's arm goes around Lando's shoulders, and drapes over his chest to hold him close. Lando's hand instinctually goes for his hairy forearm, like he's bracing him there, holding on, refusing to let go.

That is, after all, what Lando intends to do with Daniel. Hold on. Refuse to let go.

[liesmyth]

do you have favorite jod fics you'd recommend? i love your tlt opinions and am also a filthy john understander, but totally new to the fandom's fic scene

HI. YES. This is the rec list I was born to make. My shitty little meow meow. My insufferable babygirl. I do have fics. They're good :)

Written for me (ME!):

(I sat on this ask for a couple days so that I could acknowledge the authors on these fics that just revealed today. They cater perfectly to my tastes and everyone should read them.)

and my mouth isn't filled with blood, it's victory wine by @widespindriftgaze; John/Ianthe, pre-NtN, rated E, gore

You like forcing yourself to do gross things. This is called having character. Ianthe gets haunted, makes a power play, and smokes a cigarette.

Sex Education by @theriverbeyond; John & Gideon, pre-NtN, rated T

In which God explains condoms, consent, and how babies are made, and Prince Kiriona Gaia considers the pros and cons of being jettisoned out into the vacuum of space

(John gives Kiriona "the talk")

Other faves!! These are John & Gideon:

A Mild Sort of Resurrection by sigaloenta; Bari Star AU, rated G

In all the extensive special briefings and all-hands bulletins and strict sets of orders preparatory to the Emperor Divine's inspection tour of the Avernus, no one had considered that God might desire to fetch Himself a coffee.

"Fuck it, I'm adopting her," said John Gaius, not knowing the paperwork wasn't necessary by @naamah-beherit; John & Gideon AU, rated T

Gideon, a highly distinguished Cohort lieutenant, saves the day—and the girl—and then gets stuck in the lift of The Erebos with a man feeding her peanuts as if they have all the time in the world. They don't, but if he doesn't mind, then why should she?

now that you're sleeping by elijah_was_a_prophet; John & Kiriona pre NtN, rated M for mega dead

After-hours blues

John + Alecto, after the end:

moving upon the face of the waters by bittybelle; Alecto/John, rated M

You kissed John like the animal you had become, and he responded with the fealty of a child, and then with the force of a god, and then with the passion of the abandoned.

so I open the window to hear sounds of people by @sunderedstar; Alecto & John, rated T

He misses the beach. The real beach. The current one is mostly soil with a lacy veneer of nuclear ash, clammy and streaky and hilariously radioactive, which is a real bummer when he thinks about it too hard.

Some gen fic!!

recognize them by their fruits by ceruleanVulpine; Ianthe & John post HtN, rated T

John and Ianthe deal with the fact that his only remaining Lyctor is the one he never liked much. Maybe they can bond over the fact that they're both egotistical manipulators who lie like breathing? No? Also, God sees ghosts. Ianthe doesn't help.

John 25:12 by @halfeatenmoon; Pre-resurrection gang, John & G1deon

John and his friends escape the cow fortress to spend Christmas Day at the beach. With beer, salads, pavlova, and the corpses of a million fish killed by nuclear weapons testing.

Assorted lyctor shipfic:

choking on your leash by @augustmourn cult era John/A- , rated E + dubcon

He wanted to fuck John because he cared about him, even if he couldn't say it out loud. He didn't want to fuck John as a convenient way for both of them to have a better orgasm, like they always had; he didn't want to fuck John to stop him from killing off another hundred cops. But he would do anything for John. He'd known that in his bones for a long, long time.

colder than empires, and deader too by cadmean; rated E, dubcon + some gore

Drenched in the blood of his oldest sister and staring death (God; but really, where is the difference?) in the face, Augustine makes a different choice.

nature/nurture by Marenke; John/Augustine pre NtN speculation about the memory wipe. Rated G

There’s a little movement Augustine does - a flick of his wrist when he lits up a cigarette - that, some days, feels like the only reminiscent of him before he died.

This War of Attrition by @seven-syntheseas; Augustine/John/Mercy longfic, rated E (30k, complete)

attrition (n.): 1. sorrow for one’s sins stemming from a motive other than that of the love of God; 2. friction.

Or, put simply: Dios Apate. Major.

Self promo corner! I'm not above self reccing, so here are my jodfics. (Surprisingly, they reflect my tastes perfectly.)

John & Kiriona + John & others, post-HtN fic about God's upcoming midlife crisis: towery city amongst the stars; rated T

John & Augustine with shippy vibes, pre-canon: dreams of the ones who came before us, rated T

John/G1deon, pre-canon: dead and old and always hungry, rated E

Alecto/John, after the nukes: sign my death with your teeth, rated E + gore

Primarily a Ianthe fic but John is in there and it was very fun to write: after me, the flood, rated E, horror elements, Ianthe/Augustine + Ianthe & John

Kind of an ensemble fic but John's in it (and he's the only one having a good time) HtN AU: Housing Crisis! at the Mithraeum, rated T

[artsy-hobbitses]

So you already have ttb anime opening songs list. Do you have a ttb anime closing songs list as well?

Follow up from here for those curious!

SEASON 1 (Pre-War) Ending: Fukisusabu kaze no naka de by WAG (Gensomaden Saiyuki)

Running along the edge of the cliff We decide not to look back Not speaking even one word Always without repentance Looking up at the sky The pouring rain falls down And as we wonder if it had let up It starts falling again on our heads If we stir up our emotions, We can easily determine our dreams Determine our love, Our friends, our lives In the midst of the raging wind Can I really throw away my pride? The colors of regret and truth Make my heart dance In these revolutionary days, I Always want to stay with you!

I feel like I don't need to explain the reason behind this choice on the account of it sounding like a Badass Ikemen Quartet and the HYSTERICAL amount of MegOP in. If you want men enthusiatically belting out Gay Subtext devotion-in-love-and-friendship rock type themes, Saiyuki's been doing that since the early 2000s. This theme is so Barricade Boys I'm slapping it on any modern iteration of Les Amis de l'ABC. (Also I have Lambros on my mind and it WILL NOT STOP just imagine them, Hotrod and Bee on vocals)

SEASON 2 Ending: Uso by SID (FMA Brotherhood)

Say, the sky we saw that day, That scarlet sky Do you remember it from that day? We made a promise and a vow While the early summer wind circled us And we clung close together Your forced smile Holds elongated shadows I pretend not to notice and continue on All the while waiting for you To deliver some news at the table Empty nights and mornings that will never arrive I could see them from a mile away Say, the sky we saw that day, That scarlet sky I'm sure you'll remember it one day While holding the promise we couldn't keep We take our first steps down out own paths

A narrative follow-up from the blow-out between the Rebellion in Season One, who are now divided into the Decepticons and the Autobots. Do you remember our promise and what we fought for? I'm sure you will some day, says OP, even as we walk different paths now.

SEASON 3: Ending: Mind Game by Tamaki (Tiger & Bunny)

I daydreamed in a corner Of the city stained ash-gray And somehow I started pondering My raison d'etre But I never know myself & dreams & truth anymore, anymore… more… In this wretched world, I asked myself, "Just what can I do?" Because I got the feeling that your smile taught me that Pain like discovering the light touched me: Yes, that's the feeling I got In order to attain an ephemeral dream by their own hands, All people lose sight of even eternal truth The one who gave light to the indelible, sad tomorrow Was none other than just one (I want to believe) We can share both the past and the future, always!

Rung (Past) and Sari (Future). Also fourth stanza is very Sari to Isaac. Also Drift/Ratchet, as Drift defects to the Autobots this season.

SEASON 4 Ending: Every Heart by BOA (Inuyasha)

Tell me babe How many times I've shed my tears? Every heart Every heart is not a gentle one Why can't I I can never share my loneliness? Every heart doesn't know what to say or what to do Was afraid of darkness cause I felt like I was left alone So I prayed for help to a distant million stars Round and round the planets revolve around the sun And they always seek after love and peace forever more Growing, growing whoa baby we can work it out Look up at the sky, every heart is shining on today

'Every heart is not a gentle one' feat. Sunstreaker/Sideswipe's blowout, Windblade and Starscream's sort-of-relationshing angst (as Starscream tries and fails to show her that the man she believes still lives inside him---that hopeful senator from the past---is dead, when he UGH falls into the trap of being a Decent Man)

Also a lonely LONELY season feat. Mirage with Hound Missing and his Ironhide-induced crisis.

Last stanza hitting the 'Autobots rebuilding On Griffin Rock And Finding Reasons To Hope For Tomorrow Even As It Gets Ever Harder' mood.

SEASON 5 Ending: Alone by Mikuni Shimokawa (Gensomaden Saiyuki)

All of the people coming and going Bear heavy burdens, Searching for tomorrow Within the heat haze wavering in the distance Feelings like sand Falling through my hands… Back then, the words that pierced my heart Suddenly started to throb with pain, but… I've searched for pieces of myself, counting the endless nights all the while. These feelings are becoming so certain I almost lose myself Right now, without fail I will walk forward However far

Because I REALLY wanted to end on this BEAUTIFUL note and it's my series kfhsdgfjsdgfjsfh but seriously:

First stanza encapsulates how the war has affected everyone, Decepticons and Autobots alive, who are now working together and genuinely had always wanted a better tomorrow for everyone.

"I've searched for pieces of myself" stanza, like literally 85% of the cast is in goddamn pieces at the moment and are holding on by their Nakama Thread. It's everyone--Megatron, Mirage, Starscream, OP himself, RUNG, the Lambros, Drift, YOU NAME IT.

This version of the song will be used over the finale itself which will show rebuilding efforts/how the cast is doing post-war. Stuff covered will be, among others:

Sideswipe waking up from his coma and his garbled proposal to Strongarm

Windblade visiting Starscream in prison as she tries to comfort Starscream who's messy snotty crying in happiness that she finally managed to pass a bill to outlaw the creation of new CCs so no child will ever go through what he went through.

OP reading/writing with Megs who's in prison.

Laserbeak and Soundwave helping Ravage with his physical therapy as he slowly regains use of his legs.

Wreckers and Springer visiting Kup's grave with Dakshi who is now Springer's dog.

Hound introducing Mirage to his parents

Prowl front row at Jazz's concert.

Bee and Co finally get their degrees.

Lightbright exploring the universe with her new Titan

A decorated mural of the Autobots and Decepticons who died in the final battle against Unicron.

[broken-clover]

OKAY!! kydizzy with clinging!! the sweethearts deserve a bit of desperate contact methinks

Unfortunately I took 'desperate' and probably took it in the wrong direction. Uh, apologies if you wanted this to be fluffy, I guess it sort of is in a way, just not the usual. I'm digging up the pre-overture era stuff because that offers so much for protective Dizzy

-

Leo had come back with nothing to show for it but a heavily bleeding arm, prompting panic among the people who had been waiting for him.

“Y-your majesty?” One of the castle staff covered their mouth in horror. “Good lord, what happened?”

Daryl quickly intervened, trying to keep the peace. “Someone will escort you to the infirmary immediately in order to stop the bleeding.”

“Gah, of course, of course, Daryl, I’m not so thickheaded that I would just let this bleed.” Leo huffed back at him.

“...I take it that your discussion didn’t get very far?”

He hung his head. “She won’t listen. I tried to explain, but either she can’t understand like this, or she just doesn’t want to hear it.”

“Your majesties, will we be moving on to firepower as an option?”

”Absolutely not.” Daryl immediately shut the man down. “Barring any concern we may have for it also harming the First King, it is likely that it will only aggravate her further.”

Someone in the back muttered to themself. “This is what we get for having a Gear as a queen.”

“Pardon?” Said Leo, looking for the individual among the group. “Would someone like to say that louder for us?”

Daryl shook his head. “Leo, don’t. Focus on yourself right now. Ellsworth, escort King Leo so he may receive some kind of medical treatment before he passes out.”

“Yessir.”

“For now,” he turned back to the rest. “I will attempt diplomacy of my own accord. No disrespect to my colleague, but I feel I could offer a more careful form of negotiation. We all want the same thing, after all.”

Several of them looked hesitant, but nobody could bring themselves to contradict the remaining king. They only watched as he headed down the same hallway that Leo had returned from, breath held in the hopes that this time wouldn’t involve more bloodshed.

Daryl was always good at putting on a stoic front. That wasn’t to say he was frightened, but negotiations with Gears wasn’t something richly illustrated in the history of debate. This wasn’t quite a hostage situation, but it wasn’t much of a pleasant chat, either. He simply hoped it would be over fast.

The castle started to show its damage as soon as he rounded the corner. Nobody had been able to remove the door yet, so it remained firmly lodged in the wall opposite of where it should have been. The remaining doorframe jutted out like a splintery flower. It had all been pushed back by one strong blow, and the carpet was scorched, decorated with a hearty blood spatter. 

However, Daryl never thought he would say it, but the horrible mess would have to go ignored for now. He did his best to give off the air of politeness and calm, and stepped into the doorway.

“Miss Dizzy?

In the darkness, a pair of scarlet lights snapped to face him. A shiver ran down his spine. He tried to stifle it. 

“We have spoken before. I am Third Ki-”

A spike of ice soared past his head, missing by little more than an inch. While he winced, Daryl realized it had been intentional. A warning shot. Just speaking to her had been enough to get that response. This was worse than he had thought.

Ky was still passed out in her arms, shivering and pale. When he stopped to look, it was obvious now- the thinness, the shaking, the vigor vanishing from his body- of course, nobody had thought to care until Dizzy decided that they were going to, and very quickly. That was the funniest part of this whole thing, if he could dare to call any of it funny. Despite the half-mad bioweapon he was currently in the hands of, Ky wasn’t in any sort of danger whatsoever. She had made that very clear. Dizzy was protecting him from everyone else.

Daryl reminded himself of that. Dizzy wasn’t a monster to be subdued, he was supposed to be there to coax a truce.

“I’m sorry,” he ventured, careful but pleased to see her not immediately go on the offensive again. “We all are. Truly, so very sorry. We want to help him. We can’t give him the help he needs here. If you let us bring him to-”

He was cut off by a sharp, catlike hiss. “YOUR FAULT.” Her pupils narrowed further into slits. “IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.

He nodded. “I know. We made a terrible mistake. I understand that now. You have helped us to understand. Please, let us do what is right now.”

“NOBODY ELSE WILL PROTECT HIM. I WILL. I MUST.” Her tail lashed at the air, showing off its razor teeth. What he had thought was a shadow at first was a dark stain on otherwise-immaculate white. Daryl knew it could extend, but he wasn’t sure by how much. He could never assume full safety here.

“I know.” He said again. “You just want what’s best for him. I admire that. I want to help him, too.”

Dizzy stared him down, teeth gritted. Now there were two separate sets bared in his direction. “NO. NO YOU DON’T. YOU NEVER DID.”

“Miss Dizzy-”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” She roared, the walls shaking from the force. “LEAVE BEFORE I MAKE YOU!”

This was treading on very thin ice now. Daryl didn’t want to throw in the towel just yet. “You can’t even consider?”

“NOBODY ELSE WILL HELP HIM. LEAVE.”

Her long tail lashed out at him, forcing a retreat. He squeezed out into the relative safety of the hallway, looking himself over for wounds he may not have noticed. Dizzy hadn’t left a scratch.

A complete and utter failure. He hadn’t gotten anywhere with her. Maybe he hadn’t deserved to. For all her inelegant rambling, she hadn’t been especially wrong.

After waiting several minutes, Daryl hesitantly peered into the room. He expected Dizzy would attack him properly as soon as she saw his face again, but she didn’t even look up. Through the low light, he could see her carefully wrapping Ky up in a quilt, butting their foreheads together and clinging onto him tightly. If he strained his ears, he swore he could make out a soft, sniffling humming.

[buddysmut]

Do you think Yuju will find a new agency? I'm very afraid not because her albums didn't sell very well

This got super long so I'm putting it under a read more.

Did they not sell well? I planned on buying a physical copy of Rec when it was up for pre-order, but I never got around to it. And speaking from my own personal experience, kpop album importing stores are very bad at actually getting stock. So I think that plays a part in it too. It's 100% the reason why I never ordered a copy. At that point I decided, "Is it worth going through ordering, and then waiting 3 months for a store in the US to even ship it out?" I kind of wish I did get it though. But it would have been the last kpop album I bought a physical copy of either way. I honestly never even thought about getting a copy of O. Even though I like the music, it would have always been digital support only.

Only semi-related. But on the topic of sales, at my previous job I at one point worked with Red Velvet for the Queendom comeback. And I have first-hand stories about how bad SM is at handling album stocks and sales. So it's sometimes a problem with the companies ruining the customers' good will and trust. But I didn't hear anyone mention anything about Konnect. But that also means I saw basically zero people talk about buying her albums.

But in terms of Yuju finding a new agency, I feel like she might have already been negotiating with one. In a recent bubble post (maybe last week?) it was translated to English as something like, "Would I be scolded this too?" when she was talking about another one of her 'exhibitionist' pics.

(Editing out the twitter account to not bring any bad stuff to them)

Which makes me think she probably has staff that are already monitoring her content. Or she tried to post something else, and was advised not to. But it could be possible she was making a reference to her previous staff when they saw her other posts, and she might be trying to keep things more presentable for now to not hurt her chances with new agencies she might talk to. It's hard to know.

I also recently talked to people about how Yuju isn't the most relevant to younger fans. She's from a previous gen. And even though I personally think of her as one of the top vocalists in the industry, she just isn't as popular as newer groups. And I think that's where alot of her career struggle in the future would come from. She had to fight to keep her solo career while new full groups get to coast along with a much easier advantages compared to her. I told someone that I already forgot she did that big pole dance set earlier in the year. It seemed like a big deal at the moment, and already you see no one mentioning it. It's unfortunate for Yuju.

But I know she loves what she does. And she's always so busy. So I think even if she needs time to find a new contract, she'll at least stay in the public eye with show guest spots or in different small things like that. Obviously I'm super bias in all this. But I really hope yuju could be similar to Taeyeon. Someday doing stuff as part of GFriend again. But also keeping herself busy with solo work for a very long time. I genuinely love her solo mini albums. And people that follow the blog know I have alot of opinions on music lol So I would say if I thought it was garbage. I just feel like there's something missing though. Either with the producer side, or Yuju might not be given exactly what she's looking for in terms of creative freedom. But eventually it'll find that perfect balance, and it'll be something amazing.