#I feel as though I'd be starved of critical thought there

[ask-artsy-oncie]

Hearing "there's an active Talespin fan forum that someone got banned from for pointing out that it's a Jungle Book AU (and therefore shouldn't be considered 1:1 with the Jungle Book)" just gives me Klonoa fan forum flashbacks.

Very much over people who make geek culture their entire identities, but spend so much of their energy dictating how people should enjoy something rather than doing something productive and community driven.

[pomodoko]

I don’t think his crush on Falin makes him creepy. Obviously Laios shouldn’t be giving microaggressions and should learn from his ignorance! I don’t think Toshiro is shallow and wholly hates Laios, yet I despise him as a person… He’s known Laios long enough to know that “dropping hints” is not a mature or effective response even though it makes sense why he didn’t have the courage to speak directly. Shuro being a fake friend was an issue long before his breaking point. Yes, he was repressed, envious and there were communication issues, but Shuro was also very genuinely ableist. Even if Shuro ‘is’ neurodivergent, people can be cruel to other neurodivergent people who are seen as less socially acceptable. Vitriol towards someone “not reading the room” is repulsively ableist.  Of course he isn’t the only one who’s ableist in the story, but the shattering of Laios’s trust is gross. Laios tries to mask but is unable to. Shuro is also a rich noble whose family literally OWNS Izutsumi (& possibly Tade). Yet he does not care about the ethics behind that. Not that he hates her necessarily, but the cold way he treats her reveals that he does not care enough to adapt to the struggles of those who are different / difficult. I feel like his spineless inaction is both a means to avoid conflict, but also a barrier that prevents him from treating others with respect. I think it’s logical for someone to dislike this dude.

I feel like there's a lot of feelings in this writing that you gotta dial back. I totally understand where you're coming from, though. Being told to "read the room" was something I've experienced. I've been betrayed by people I thought were friends because I didn't know what I was doing was annoying them. It really hurt!

I also need to admit I've been on the other side, too! I don't like confrontations at all, but I've let things boil over because I was so afraid of confrontations that I'd snapped at my friends. Especially in Toshiro's state in which he was starving and lacking sleep and just saw his own love interest kill all of his retainers. If I was in his shoes, I'd snap, too! 😭

I wouldn't use the phrase "dropping hints" though. At least from my POV as an Asian from a high-context culture, where there's like, social hierarchy and such, and a lot of politeness abound. When it's something that you've been raised with for years and years, it's really hard to drop. Of course it's gonna be an issue! I think Ryoko Kui writing their argument and fight is a criticism on Japan's "high-context to the point of self-sabotage" culture. But it's important to note that it ended with both of them talking things out and Toshiro straight up saying "hey if you need to run I promise to smuggle you all out of the country". Here are some posts that I recommend reading that expand on it really well: here, here, here, here, and here.

In terms of Toshiro's family owning people, it's expanded more in the manga how these things came to be, but I'd suggest putting it in context of the manga rather than IRL. Toshiro came from the equivalent of Feudal Japan, after all. Here are some more posts talking about that (highly recommend the first one! it's a great read!): here, here (contains spoilers for the ending), and here. Do note that he treats all of his subordinates with respect, and he literally begged for their aid on his hands and knees to save Falin.

Anyway, at the end of the day, you're still going to dislike Toshiro and that's fine. My goal isn't to push my interest and opinions onto other people. I just didn't want him to be disliked shallowly, by reasons that are false or blown out of proportion. The characters of Dungeon Meshi are extremely flawed and incredibly well written, and it's really hard to see characters of color be judged more harshly. It feels the fandom's treatment of these characters will reflect on myself, and that's scary.

[nxposure]

On my last blog, I wrote about my eating disorder at great length. I think it's time to do it again. If you don't like long text posts, feel free to skip this, but don't skim read it and reply because that's not nice.

TW if you need it, eating disorders, self harm, body dysmorphia.

----

People seem to think that eating disorders don't really apply to men. I spent my entire childhood listening to just about everyone passing judgement on other people's weight. As a boy, my apparent role models were all athletes, thin or muscular actors, skinny popstars and guys in music, and any husky person was either funny or tragic.

As I got older, I noticed these attitudes getting worse. Muscular men between acting jobs would stop cutting and starving their bodies, but would still look like peak physical condition but would be referred to as having a 'dad bod'.

Older still, I'd see people waggling their little fingers making jokes about small dicks, or laughing about people who cum to quick. People were too tall or not tall enough. Then they'd be too skinny if they were too fat. Then, laughs about baldness or their bodies being too hairy. It went on and on.

It melted my brain. I wanted to be whatever this idea shape was and deep down, I knew it wasn't possible, and I developed an immovable self loathing that I suspect I'll carry with me through my whole life.

I'd hear women getting similar criticisms, and the criticisms came equally from women and men, gay and straight, and of all races and creeds, and I think somewhere in my thoughts, I gave up trying to find a peaceful way of navigating this and began to purge every time I ate. I was playing a lot of team sports and would vomit before every game. I'd then go home, eat, and repeat. I became dangerously thin and people would tell me my body looked great.

I would pass out a lot through exhaustion and my eyes became dark. At some point I collapsed and hit my face on a shelf, then a radiator, and pretended to everyone that I'd just been in a fight.

After a short time thinking I'd fixed myself after scaring myself when I'd collapsed, it started again. I switched out bulimia for anorexia. I was now not eating at all. I remember hitting my hand with a spoon over and over when someone brought me some food to work, anxiety in overdrive as I hoped they wouldn't notice me not touching any of the food they gave me. That happened a lot and the back my hand was frequently purple with bruises.

I've kept a photo of a more recent period so I have something to check, in case I've dropped too much weight. This was me not that long ago, irresponsibly thin and I'd made myself very poorly. The skirt is cute though.

It was around this time that I'd collapsed again, this time in public. I was rushed to hospital with malnutrition and it was in the middle of lockdown so hospitals were swamped and everything was weird.

I was given a COVID test and while the nurses went to do my test, I sneaked out of the hospital because I didn't want them to tell me anything about how thin I was, even though they'd already clocked me. I walked home and collapsed three more times in the street, and twice more at home. I managed to get myself back to hospital eventually and spent the night under observation and was fed sugary gels and put on a drip to try and replace some of what my body had been missing for months.

I again discharged myself and ran away from the problem.

I was disgusted with myself. I was being irresponsible. I thought I looked enormous. I then made myself more depressed because I shouldn't talk about people's bodies like that. I loved people of all shapes and sizes and here I was, judging someone for being fat. I didn't eat or drink a single thing for two weeks after being in hospital. I was going mad. It was time to tell my friends what was going on, and it turned out a number of them had already worked it out.

One of the things I needed to fix was some of the people I sought advice from. I'd found people in secret who also had eating disorders and people who self harmed. It sounded like we were helping each other from the outside in, but the reality was that we were all enabling each other. Some call it trauma bonding. I call it unwell people egging each other on and even being competitive about it.

One girl said to me that my eating disorder wasn't as bad as hers. She gave me tips on how to act like I was getting better to other people. Saying you're trying is as good as actually trying, she added. It's all part of the performance.

I didn't want to be ill. I just wanted to not feel violently sick when I thought about my own body existing. I wanted to not be perceived at all, and to be left in darkened rooms, wasting away. While I spent all those nights, just lying there, I realised that this illness wasn't like other illnesses. Cancer wants to devour you. Broken bones want to heal. This eating disorder wanted me to stay alive but maximise the suffering in a prolonged bout of self harm. Me being dead was no use to my dysmorphia. I did just enough to stay alive, so I could maximise the suffering. It was like an endurance sport with no medal.

At some point, my name was put forward to appear on a news programme on national television. One of my supposed support network worked in TV and was asked if they knew anyone who had what had been rebranded as 'manorexia'. It's funny - even when showing concern, people still do stupid things like giving an illness that applies to anyone a ridiculous name. We don't call it blokeaemia do we?

After speaking to the genuinely respected and very nice journalist who I'd seen on television a lot, she was heavy handed in her questions. Things like "is it just vanity then?" is one that sticks in my memory. After 3 days of back and forth, the news story was dropped because a panda had given birth in a zoo somewhere. My sense of the absurd and gallows humour kicked in, mercifully. Men's eating disorders, relegated beneath a captive animal having a baby.

Another friend who was genuinely being well-meaning told me how brave I was, "going around telling everyone you have a woman's disease". I wasn't angry because I knew what they meant, but to someone more fragile, it could have gone horribly wrong. Another friend simply said "I don't want to ever talk about this - it's too upsetting."

I became aware of famous men talking about their eating disorders. A politician called John Prescott spoke of his and everyone laughed at it and made jokes on panel shows, based entirely on the fact that he wasn't thin enough. Everyone laughed at Hugh Jackman on talkshows when he spoke of the starvation and duress he put his body under to look a certain way for movies. Thin women were pointed at when they put an ounce of weight on. I heard women sniggering about other women saying "what does she look like in that dress?"

More recently, people would berate the 45th president of the United States for being "fat", rather than going after more pertinent things like his whole personality and terrible views. Fat, in this instance, was the ultimate sin, not being pro-fascist. I noticed how many larger men were clowning around at their own expense, and women would coo about them online. People like Jack Black - talented, good looking, charismatic - would be met with "I don't care that he's fat".

So where am I now? Mentally, the damage is done and I don't think I'll ever lose the will to harm myself. However, since my last collapse, I swore I'd never go there again. I rigidly eat three times a day. I've actively learned to enjoy the cooking process. It's been incredibly difficult, perhaps in part because I stubbornly refuse any professional help. I looked around for a psychiatrist who would help at one point, but every single one told me that they weren't taking men on.

Way back when, I started sharing photos of my body on Tumblr in a state of undress because I wanted to normalise how I looked. If I sandwiched myself between everyone else's nudes which I thought were beautiful, then I gave myself a chance to think the same of my own. It certainly helped. There's something about the kind of people this site attracts that celebrates a variety of people and I can be flooded with dopamine when my photos get complimented. They're compliments from people that sometimes get it, and that matters. Some people just think I'm being thirsty, and sometimes, they're absolutely correct.

My stomach has grown. There's fat bits on my back which I've never seen before. My neck got chunky where my jawline used to be razor sharp. At long last, I'm learning to love this. I love the softness of people's bodies, and it's taken me decades to realise that I'm just people too. I wear soft clothes that feel nice against my skin. I've collaborated on photos with wonderful people. While my dysmorphia is so bad that I doubt I'll ever find it easy to sexually pleasure myself, I've been shocked to find that people on here have actually had me feeling like a viable and sexy person! It's a completely new feeling to me and I'm trying to get better at taking compliments instead of pushing them away.

I've written about this before and at some length, but I feel it's important to do it again so it doesn't get lost. It might help someone. It might help people understand me better. It might help someone understand what their friend is going through. It might just be enough to offer an interesting perspective and nothing more.

I'm doing better than I've done in memory and it's weird and makes me feel vulnerable. I don't want to get complacent and writing this reminds me of how far I've come and not to let this terrible illness sneak up on me again. I've been through some horrendous emotional stress recently, and that's exactly the kind of time where a thing like this can reintroduce itself into my brain.

I'm doing okay though, genuinely. I can only write about these things when I'm in a good place. I hope you are too. If anyone ever needs to speak to me about anything like this, I can't promise I can fix you, but I can definitely empathise and I will root for you.

(please forgive any typos or garbled language in this - I wrote it in one take, off the cuff, without editing)

[onelungmcclung]

MotA pt eight:

combat pilots are the glamour boys of piloting tbh (I like/am critical of this show's sprawling ambition but I'd take a BoB style miniseries just following the 332nd / 477th)

feeling a little bit back to square one in that suddenly there's a whole new bunch of guys in uniforms and masks and I'm supposed to be able to tell them apart and it took me about 4 episodes to keep track of the 100th (about 7 to keep track of easy company, but I was new to the genre back then)

(my co-watchers and I have a whatsapp group called "i moustache you a question" which is purely for helping one another tell MotA characters apart)

I don't want to be mean but I do not give a skerrick of a fuck about bucky's emotional problems, especially when that problem is boredom

"well I could cope with being DEAD" is mildly endearing

just think how much of this narration you could cut out and everything would be fine, better even

it's good to see a little bit more of capt westgate's working relationships

croz that is what happens when you disobey kidd's direct order, your brain deactivates

did u know christopher lakewood (col jeffrey) is also an accent coach

I thought maybe buck and bucky's fight might be some piece of misdirection theatre in aid of an escape plan but no, bucky is just that annoying. punch him again.

luv the tuskegee airmen already because nobody's narrating over their scenes. see how well this works

"I helped plan d-day and then slept through it" is a great story for the grandkids. I'm being flippant but also: it kind of is

croz/rosie/kidd ot3. I'm right. think it over. thank me later. (platonically, but ydy. maybe I'll decide I'm flexible)

if I were more heterosexual I would fall for macon reeling off a list of precise statistics that he worked out earlier when he had a free five minutes

"we perhaps might not blend into nazi germany?" is seditious talk apparently

I'm always a bit lost when the 100th point to one another through their plane windows and say things like "look! there's blakely!" because I simply cannot make out any distinguishing features. the tuskegee planes are great though, much more distinctive

Second Smug Nazi is a slightly more charismatic actor imo

the writers have got themselves into that "this time period was racist but Our Heroes cannot be racist" dilemma so, as per the classic dodge, some relatively minor character gets to be the Only Racist. sorry hambone. you are very blond, after all. (sometimes it's "this time period was homophobic" or "this time period was misogynistic" but the solution remains the same)

I quite like alex and buck's interactions, despite not having been terribly invested in buck so far. good chemistry? just the novelty of a new character relationship? anyway it helps when butler and turner get scenes with other people for a change. one of the best tools for character development is giving them multiple relationships; the different commonalities/tensions/chemistry are v revealing

I am not immune to a Secret Plot Montage

tell me more about macon and demarco, is this a budding friendship (don't want to overegg a "standing next to each other" moment but I'm starved for supporting character development and I'm finally giving up on that significantly changing)

I think westgate is probably right to call things off with crosby sooner rather than later (I always support hbo war ladies when they dump guys #feminism)

yeah I do quite like rosie, he's a good person/leader/pilot. very obviously not (as winters described guarnere and speirs) a natural killer, but that's not his job and he is a natural pilot and therefore cannot bring himself to leave the other guys before the war is over

I think I have done a relatively good job of keeping track of the influx of new characters. don't remember everyone's names yet (alex! macon! daniels!) but I'm doing better on faces

hope demarco and meatball get to reunite next ep

[furbywrites]

I'd Never Let You Go Pt. 2

Okay, so I had writers block for what felt like ages, but this chapter came to me so easily. It felt nice. Next chapter we get to meet Ellie! Yay! Once again, feedback/constructive criticism is welcome! :D

Ao3

I could hear him release a deep sigh, but he continued to walk with me. "You're real quiet, ya' know that?" he huffed, sounding almost annoyed. I frowned but said nothing. "Jus' wanna talk is all. Ya' don't gotta run from me."

My mouth opened, gaze still fixed steadily on my own boots, but no words would come. Anxiety constricted my throat, allowing only a pathetic squeak to pass my lips.

Why couldn't I be normal? I've seen plenty of people talk to Joel, smile at Joel, flirt with Joel. Sure he ignored most of them, giving a tight lipped smile and a polite, "Pardon me," before extracting himself from the conversation. At least they had tried, had been capable of even saying one word.

Some part of my brain felt broken at times, especially when it came to communication. Sometimes I'd go so long without speaking a single word, that when I finally managed, my voice sounded more like the croaking of a frog than that of a human.

Right now, with Joel by my side, keeping pace with my aimless steps, I tried. My mouth opened, gaping like a fish seeking water, but nothing but a frustrated grunt was to be heard. I couldn't do it. Something so simple for everyone around me, and I couldn't do it.

I could feel the tears finally overflow, as I sniffled loudly. A quick glance in Joel's direction showed his eyes widening in...what? Shock? I never was very good at reading people. It seemed an accurate guess though.

A hand, heavy and warm, placed itself upon my shoulder, and suddenly he was in front of me, standing, and we weren't walking anymore.

"I didn't mean to scare you, darlin'." His eyes, so big and brown and soft. I only realized I was looking into them when I felt myself getting lost in his gaze. Quickly, my eyes moved to his shoulder, where they usually ended up in the unforeseen circumstance of conversation.

I didn't necessarily have an issue with eye contact, quite the opposite. I overcompensated. Stared unfalteringly. People said it was unnerving, and so I stopped. Humiliated at yet again breaking some unknown social cue I did not inherently know.

I did not want to make Joel, the man of my fascinations, of my wandering mind, of my daydreams, unnerved. So, his shoulder seemed a good place to look.

With his eyes no longer a distraction, my mind instead focused on his hand upon my shoulder. It felt...nice. Surprisingly so. I had no one in Jackson I was close to. No one to touch. Perhaps it was getting to me, because just the warmth of his hand through my sweater had thoughts of burying my head into his chest running amok in my head.

I swallowed thickly, mind racing, and with a sharp inhale I brought myself back to the present moment. Sometimes I got lost in my head. A bad habit.

I didn't know how to convey without words that he hadn't scared me. Despite his reputation, and boy did he have one, he wasn't scary, at least not to me. Perhaps it was his interactions with Ellie I constantly observed from afar. But he seemed so soft in those moments, so kind.

I simply placed my hand upon his, giving a slight squeeze, and a tight lipped smile. Hoping he would understand. Again, I found myself getting lost, but not in my head, instead at the feeling of his rough skin on mine. A violent shiver went through me at the contact. Yes, clearly touch starved. The thought made me frown.

Before I could comprehend it, his hand was gone, being replaced by something heavy around my shoulders. His jacket? Had I been stuck in my head so long I'd missed something important?

Finally I looked into his eyes once more. My confusion must have been evident, because he simply huffed at my expression.

"You were shiverin', looked cold." He spoke so matter-of-factly, assuredly, despite being wrong. I wasn't cold, though it's not as though I could voice this to him, not that I would. It was a kind gesture, and his eyes looked so soft as he gazed at me, I found myself smiling, tears long forgotten.

He mirrored my smile, though much more subdued. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. Cute. I blushed again at the thought.

"You never finished eating. Ya' must still be hungry?"

Eyes still locked on his, I nodded dumbly, currently distracted with the scent coming from his jacket. How did I only just notice? Did he smell this good? It couldn't just be the jacket. My face felt like it was on fire. Why couldn't I focus?

"Come on then, you can sit with me an' Ellie." His hand on my shoulder again, this time gently turning me around, leading me back to the canteen. "She wanted to meet ya' anyway."

[eraserisms]

@ravenbled / Shota twin sent in these from here!

☀ Does the mun listen to you while writing or not?

"I don't know if the word listen is the the accurate word. I feel like we're almost always in synch with one another. That is at least, when he is actually writing instead of pacing the house like a lunatic trying to convince his brain to get some words out. It's just that sometimes neither of us have the mental capacity to get things done around here. Either I'm not in the mood to co-operate, we're both tired from work, or there are too many external factors going on in our lives"

✍ Has the mun some special talents beside writing?

"He probably would tell you that he doesn't have any talents, unless you count being able to put in exactly 30 dollars of gas into a car, or however much you want in it." "His friends would say that he has a talent for cooking, but he is his own worst critic. He loves to cook for others, but doesn't like working in the industry. It's tireless and unrewarding. He often says that being a cook is like being a 'starving artist who won't starve' and says that they won't starve only on the basis that they're cooks. They would be able to not go hungry by eating family meal at work and for the fact that they know how to stretch out ingredients. If you want to do well in the culinary industry, you have to be great. And he'll tell you that he's only a good enough of a line-cook to work Mother's Day brunch at the Olive Garden. Nothing higher than that. He isn't good enough to be able to handle the pressure of fine dining and Michelin stared restaurants." Shota gave a toss of his head in thought before letting out a soft 'tch' of a laugh. His lips even dared to curled up into his rarely seen true smile. "And I'd say....well, I don't know if I'd consider it a talent but, he can be a quick thinker when the time calls for it. His rapid responses likely comes from working in hospitals or from being a cook and having to sometimes think on the fly. When it comes to himself he is the type of person who freezes up or shuts down. However, he is like Izuku in a way, and if it's another person or party involved, he can usually spring into action to help rather quickly. I'd even say it's heroic of him, but he'd say it's just human decency. "

🌟 Is there any genres the mun doesn’t enjoy writing but you enjoy being part of?

"Ehhhh, I don't think it's a matter of not liking certain themes or implications. D.A. is pretty open as far as what he is willing to write with people. Out of all thread types, he doesn't really like writing smut and doesn't plan on writing it on this blog. The only person he ever writes smut with is a close friend that he has known for over 10 years. In fact, they even met on this website. It doesn't really bother me all that much, but I'd like to get laid at least once in a while." Shota's mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. "But I guess I'm okay with it just being implied. A lay is a lay whether its written in detail or not." Considering there were few things that D.A. wasn't interested in writing, it caused Shota to pause briefly. His lips pursed in thought, trying to think of something else that wasn't common for his mun to write. "Another thing he doesn't write often is fighting. No matter if it's a physical fighting or a verbal fight, he isn't a particularity strong writer in those genres. That's not to say that he doesn't take pleasure in writing fighting scenes; he just isn't very good at it. In cases of fighting, depending on who he is writing, he is afraid to write characters as over-powered, especially me given the nature of my quirk. Alternatively he is anxious about making the mistake of leading a fight into a direction that his partner doesn't want it to go in. I suppose that's what plotting and out-of-character stuff is for though. I think that's why he made that last post about wanting to have a rival based thread so he can practice that." "As far as writing verbal disputes goes, he is always concerned that his arguments aren't going to make sense, or he'll end up not knowing what to say to a well-made point. Once again, this applies to a person like me who is driven by logic. That isn't to say that he isn't driven by that, but sometimes in his personal life, his emotions can override his reason."

[fuegito-de-eeuu]

Another Rant, One Piece-Related This Time

I find it difficult to like some of the characters in One Piece, mostly the Straw Hats. It's just. A struggle and it feels hard to interact with the media sometimes. It feels like the characters have wildly different personalities inside of them sometimes.

(Note : This is not a hate post. I feel neutral about this characters but some of the writing involved with them troubles me sometimes and annoys me at others.)

Luffy

I just. Can't with him sometimes. I know he's popular and I know he's the face of the series but. Some of his behaviors man.

One of his main features(?) is that he eats A LOT. I understand this is from the training with Garp and Ace does this too, but it feels like Luffy does it just way too much. Almost to the point it was detrimental to his crew way early on in the East Blue saga.

He has literally ruined food because he does not know how to cook and has thoughtlessly ruined all of the food aboard the Sunny during the Zoa - Whole Cake Island arc. And I know wasting food is more of Sanji's thing, but for someone who got pissed off when he saw the Beast Pirates not eating the red bean soup because they thought it was garbage, it doesn't feel like the same person.

I understand for the Beast Pirates it was after he had discovered that O-Tama and many other people of Wano were literally starving to death among other things. But why does he not share the same concern for his own crew when he eats everything? I'd like to think Sanji lectured him about food waste because he throws hands if someone wastes it. They're different situations, I know, but it seems like Luffy only cares when the suffering is now and not a possibility because of his actions in the future.

Luffy has expressed he wants everyone to be able to eat as much as they want. And while it's a nice dream, I won't say anything bad about it, it feels like he both believes in it and disregards it.

There's been so many times where he's literally just stolen food off the plates of his crew and others. Like??? I'm sorry? I know they're supposed to be funny scenes and show how goofy Luffy is, but his crew seems to just accept it, scolding him in the moment whenever it happens. It feels disrespectful to his crew and just plain rude to others.

And then with the portions he eats, again, I know it's mostly because of the training with Garp that he follows but. Even outside of fighting or even before at least an expected fight, why is he eating the same amount every time? He doesn't really train and seems to come up with new moves on the fly in battle (not criticizing this), so why does he eat so damn much all the time. It feels like he's just wasting food at that point because you never know how far the next island in the Grandline is going to be. Not every island will have food or welcoming people, we've seen it.

Not to mention almost eating Chopper? I know it's a gag that was used on occasion, but no one else in the crew gets that same treatment. So it feels kinda weird to me.

Nami

Overall, Nami seems fine as a character. Temperamental? Sure, but some people just have their moments.

Not everyone beats up others until they're black, blue, purple and green when they're mad though.

I know it's a gag, I know other's have issues with this too. But why does Nami do this? Does she do this because the people she hits should "know better"? Because she knows they can take it and be fine? It just doesn't make sense to me.

"It's a gag, don't worry about it" - NO ONE ON THAT BOAT INJURES EASILY BESIDES USSOP AND NAMI. It just. Feels inherently abusive that if you fuck up too much to Nami that she just fucking beats you up. Doesn't matter if you have a fruit that makes you immune to damage and she doesn't have haki, she'll smack you until your face is nothing but literally WELTS.

I don't care how she is at other times, I would not feel fucking safe on that ship if I was working with her.

Sanji

5 words : timeskip, Fishman Island, & Whole Cake.

I just hate the pervert trope so much which doesn't help me.

But for Kama Land, you're telling me that Sanji was seemingly afraid of... drag queens, trans women, and other queers to the point he... learned to walk on the fucking air? Are their other reasons? I don't fucking know man, the timeskip isn't really elaborated on a whole lot besides "this person went here and learned this".

Ffs we see Sanji in a dress and makeup as if he's trying to fit in. How the fuck did he even learn the recipes that Ivankov advertised to him?

Let alone the simple idea that all of the inhabitants looked unattractive??? My brother in christ have you seen drag queens and trans women??? Also the fucking idea that everyone on the queer island was unattractive doesn't sit well with me. Feels insulting at the very least. Also the fact that they all seemed to act like perverts and tried touching Sanji??? wtf man

Fishman Island. Ho-ly-FUCK. Flashback to fucking Kama Land. And then his behavior around the other mermaids??? Not to mention Shirahoshi WHO IS ALSO SIXTEEN. It's gross- and the amount of times he got nosebleeds from gals just. Living their fucking day???

Whole Cake. Aside from the fact that Sanji was in love with another 16 year old- It felt like he didn't want to leave. Like he was perfectly fine never going back to the crew. Especially when Pudding was starting to fawn over him to, it was just. All around weird.

Usopp

I've just never liked Usopp after Water 7. I don't mind a good scaredy cat and lying character, I liked how he fought in Thriller Bark. Lies, trickery, and unusual attacks are amazing!

But the thing with Merry is gnawing at me. He was told by Luffy that the Merry was essentially done for. I know he was going through denial and grief, but they helped make money to get the Merry professionally REPAIRED because everyone knew they were struggling to fix the Merry.

The fight was just. There.

And then when he went to get another opinion from their future shipwright, Franky literally told him "Your keel is shit, your boat is gonna sink" that Usopp STILL DENIED IT.

I understand insecurities and that Merry and Usopp technically joined the crew at the same time, so if Merry can be replaced, so can Usopp. ...but Merry is a very small wooden ship and Usopp is a person. It's just. Dumb to me. I don't know.

And then also the stuff where Usopp portrays himself as a great captain, it feels like he's not truly loyal to Luffy cause he always has Luffy and the others as his underlings in his lies. I get the other members of the crew being his crew members. But why is Luffy always great because of only Usopp? It's just. It makes Usopp's promises feel empty.

Rant done, thanks for anyone who listened.

Again, not a hate post but some of the behaviors the characters show feel troubling or just weird to me and I wanted to give reasons for it.

[ray-talks]

2/14/24

today's theme is false assumptions... stupidity, denial?

it has intrigued me for some time that i have evaded suspicion as well as i have -- despite the people around me knowing that i am mentally ill, have a history of starving myself, and additionally, that i am not honest. there are three people that, in my opinion, should reasonably assume that i have an eating disorder, or that i am significantly struggling.

the first person is my mom -- i believe that she is thinking of things wrong. she is definitely the person who is most attentive to my eating habits; she often accusing me of not eating/not eating enough, asks me about my eating, or forces me to eat. for instance, she randomly asked me if i had eaten the chocolates she put in my lunch. for some idiotic reason, i panicked and said i didn't know. she hounded me for this, then forced me to eat one. this made me very angry, because i didn't want to do this, and it also made me paranoid that she's on to me. at the same, very recently, a psychiatrist blatantly asked my mom if i struggled with disordered eating/or had a history of an eating disorder, and she said, "no, that's not a problem". my theory is that my mom considers my lack of eating as a sign of depression, rather than hinting toward an eating disorder. i don't "act" like someone with an eating disorder, or at least, in the popularized notion of how ana is stereotyped. i have probably never mentioned the desire to lose weight aloud my entire life, or have ever shown interest in diet-culture, or have made negative comments about my body. therefore, i don't think she would think that i have an eating disorder because my behavior doesn't align with an archetypical representation of one.

now, there is my therapist. just today they said, "your control issues are very similar to the mentality of someone with an eating disorder". this is almost hilarious to me. they certainly know that i have a pattern with restrictive eating, because i stupidly admitted to it when i was in a vulnerable state after being hospitalized. when we resumed sessions, they asked me if i was still restricting, or had ever purged, and i denied it. they have never brought it up since then. this is utterly baffling to me -- they are definitely aware that i am capable of dishonesty. they specifically requested of me to not lie about long-term plans to harm myself -- because i've done that before -- and if i were to do this again, they would have to stop working with me. what would suggest that i would start being honest now? especially since i can clearly get away with it. there is a chance that they do think i have an eating disorder. they just want me to admit it. which is a stupid move, because why would i admit that? -- and, it would be doing a shit job as a therapist, since you'd be practically allowing me to hurt myself. i do think well of my therapist, despite the grievances i raise here, so i'd rather wish that this is not the case, even though, it would be good for me technically. i say this because i would objectively wish for them to have integrity as a therapist. i am still confused, though, because to me, they haven't been asking the right questions that i would perceive to be obvious to ask, which makes me somewhat critical of their abilities. i am unsure in general of my therapist's line of thought there, or what they are thinking about currently. side tangent, though, i asked them if they had any moral judgments about me. i predicted they would say they don't have any, and attribute my behaviors to my mental illness/trauma, and they said precisely that. i am of the opinion that mental illness does not excuse bad behavior, and they also specifically said i don't intentionally hurt people, which i think is inaccurate. so i don't really agree with their assessment.

i feel guilty for the last person, since i don't want to seem like i am criticizing them. they essentially know that i have an eating disorder; they've said it themselves at one point. i regret that i've shared my history with them at certain moments of my life. i did so because i was not as concrete in my goals then, and then, because i was in a apathetic place. even though, they do have this knowledge -- while definitely not the whole story or specifics -- they never ask me about it or confront me over it. this is quite convenient for me. someone who technically knows but does nothing about it? that sounds good. i think it is. however, it does puzzle me. this is my best friend, someone who i am incredibly close with it. it is probably odd they never ask me about it, or seem to worry that i might be doing it again. there are three possibilities to me. they are in some level of denial, they don't want to believe i am still doing it, prefer to think that i am not, and if they hold onto that, it is comforting and easy. the second one is that they trust me -- that stings because as i've said before, i've never been someone worthy of trust -- and i would just tell them if i was struggling. the last one is that they do believe something is going on, but is fearful of how it may damage our friendship if they confront me over it. i think the first one would be the easiest for me to swallow, because it is not as personal. but i would bet it may be some of these possibilities combined.

it is probably weird that i went to some lengths to explain this. it would be reasonable to wonder what is the point of telling strangers online all of this. this place serves mostly as a diary, a confessional, or somewhere to place my daily thoughts. simply because it has been something on my mind, i decided to write about it; even though, there is no point in telling anyone this. it could even be incriminating, if someone i knew were to hypothetically find this. but i do seriously doubt that would happen.

regardless, today's restriction was okay. i still am upset about having to eat that piece of chocolate. sure, it's not going to make me gain, but it is principle (which you all know is something i am overly fixated on it). it is also frustrating to be forced into eating. i found today that i ate multiple different food, but really small portions. usually, i eat one thing and maybe a small second thing. so, when i record this into my food log, it looks that i ate a lot more since there is more food listed. but in reality, i didn't eat more than typical.

that's all i have to say. happy valentine's day! i wish anyone who reads this, that you have a good day.

[1cindyschineselitblog]

Week 9 Blog

Peony in Love

Lisa See

Pages Read: 62-105

Word Count: 423

Summary:

Peony continues to disobey her mother's wishes and meets this mysterious young man. Her love for him deepens and she longs for his touch even though she does not understand what it means. As unmarried girls in the book are kept inside, away from any males, and are not allowed to show themselves. Well, that's unless they've been married or are not a part of the main family. Peony had lost her will to live as her wedding day drew closer because she wanted to marry her mysterious man, her "poet." As weeks went by, she starved herself since she was locked in her room by her mother. Even when food was given, she would only take sips of juice. Little did she know, she would later find out that she was marrying her poet, but it was too late. She had been too far gone in terms of health and died.

Critical Analysis:

See writes extremely descriptive that sometimes it's uncomfortable as you can completely imagine the scenes. But with that descriptive language, she also has moments where she writes quotes that anyone could relate with. For example, she writes, "These thoughts, which had once filled me with happy expectation, now made me want to run away. That I had no way to escape my fate made me feel even worse." (73) It really made me go, "wow, this is really true when it comes to growing up." When you're little and unknowing, going to high school is seen as fun and the chance to experience freedom; however, once you're there, you just want to leave. Plus, school is enforced by law so even if the high school experience you once wanted is no more, you still have to go.

Personal Response:

I cannot believe this girl. First she is super excited about marrying, then she meets some random guy and they don't even exchange names. Then when her father points out her husband-to-be, she closes her eyes because she doesn't want to be disappointed. After that, she gets depressed that she can't marry this random guy only to find out that he's the one she's actually marrying. But yet she dies because she starved herself in retaliation. Like, are you kidding me? You went through all of that just to die. Plus, how could you not ask for each other names and why didn't you look when your husband-to-be was pointed out? Even if I refused to marry, I'd at least like to have a reason why I don't want to after I saw my husband...

[escapismkidnappedme]

I did what I thought I'd never fall into doing.

I took too hard a hit, probably a dead vape that needs to be thrown out. But that didn't stop me.

I'm alive, I'm not struggling to breathe, but my throat and chest hurt. No, hurt is too peaceful for what I feel.

I feel like the fires of hell are burning underneath my head, and with every breath I panic about the future.

Will I be able to afford anything?

Why am I doing so much work just to live paycheck to paycheck?

I don't have any money, yet I'm earning it.

I see my bank account and it immediately becomes 'I used to have so much, I used to be able to buy things.'

Now any time my partner offers to buy food or asks to go out I think about the money we're wasting. I have money to do it, but I won't have money to afford things in the future if I do. Yet I won't have a future if I continue to work the way I do. If I don't continue to work the way I do I won't be able to have the money I worry so much about wasting.

Everything feeds into itself and I want a way out. My job is always trying to short us, how can we pay them less, but keep their work?

I'm sick of it. I'm sick of thinking that my entire life will be bills, rent, and food I don't want to spend the money on buying. Yet I have to eat. My partner has to eat. All humans have to eat. At least spending hundreds of dollars on groceries is saving us twenty dollars on one meal.

I sleep at seven in the morning, I work at four. I wake up at two and get dressed in a panic to spend all of my waking hours serving someone food while I'm starving and filling my stomach with smoke instead.

I hate that I do this to myself, but the stress is too much at work for me to do it sober. In the past three weeks, I've been sober none of them. I used to criticize anyone who went near a cigarette or nicotine, but now I seek it out as a way to forget the horrible ordeal of half-witted humans yelling for their correct order, even though they ordered what I gave them, they just didn't know what it was from the menu.

I can't stand it. Yet I do.

[taylors-fourth-cat-meow]

I don't really understand tam's personality anymore lol.. could u like lists one of his personality that was not retconned?

Hi anon!!

one thing thats consistent about tamlin's character i'd say is that hes kind and compassionate. Though stans, lacking critical thinking, will not accept it.

He gives feyre's family enough wealth and resources to last a lifetime. That wasn't necessary how much the narrative argues or tries to ignore it. that wasnt the "bare minimum" the bare minimum wud have been having someone supply some bread, water, meat and 10 coins every 3days or something. Considering feyre's family was starving even when she was hunting, and they wud be if she wasn't taken...what he did was very generous.

He opened his court and lands to various refugees from different courts... Welcomed them into his home...(Alice and her nephews) even before Amarantha he fought for Lucien and took him in when he had no one. Deff helped Lucien overcome his grief at the loss of Jessminda. (Yea ik it's not canon but umm..you just require common sense to interpret that)

Hes disturbed and upset after killing the bogge that shows he doesn't like to kill innocent creatures even if they are predators.

He tries to heal the summer court fearie..(which ripping the wings? Sound familiar? Hmm..I wonder who wud do that to send s message to Tamlin ) and then buries the fearies body himself. He doesn't need to do that. Hes a hl but he feels responsible for it as he was unable to save the innocent faerie.

in acomaf he offers to bring feyre's family to prythian for the wedding but its she who refuses.

in acowar, he brings back rhysie. the same person who slaughtered his family for feyre. He doesn't need to do that. rhysie made a choice when he sacrificed himself. its wasn't tamlin's responsibility to bring him back and he was under no obligation to do so but he still did.

Tamlin is also very... i'd say conscientious. He doesn't want to bring feyre, an innocent human into prythian for his gain because he thinks its another form of slavery. he mentions it multiple times throughout Acotar that he shouldn't have brought her to prythian and he constantly feels guilty over it.

That all vanishes in acomaf but then again resurfaces in acofas where hes all guilt ridden and half dead because of everything thats happened.

I think his kindness and compassion are the only personality traits that have been...close to constant..it does vanish during the tithe and then killing the snetries part but thats only added as an after thought to make tamlin EVIL.

[fansofvow]

Interview with Eve Golden Woods!

Many of you know who is Eve is. She's a writer and artist, a part of Dreamfeel studios whose beautiful game If Found won Best LGBTQ Narrative and Best LGBTQ Indie game at the first ever Gayming Awards presented by EA games. I am really excited I had the chance to ask Eve some questions about herself, her time at Lovestruck and her creative process.

Congratulations on the two Gayming Awards (Best LGBTQ Narrative, Best LGBTQ Indie Game) for "If Found" from your game studio, Dreamfeel. What was the inspiration behind making the game?

If Found... was a game that emerged out of a collaboration between Llaura McGee, the founder of Dreamfeel, and artist Liadh Young. Liadh's background is as a comic artist, and so when they started working together Llaura had the idea of showing off Liadh's art by making a diary game, and using an erasing mechanic she had previously developed to let the player move through the diary in a fun way. By the time I came on board at the start of 2019, the game had already been in development for a while, so in some ways my work on that game was similar to the work I did for Voltage, because it was taking existing characters and concepts and writing a lot of scripts for them. Unlike Voltage, though, my work for Dreamfeel was a lot more collaborative and I had a lot more creative input. I really enjoy taking something and helping to make it the best version of itself that it can possibly be, but I was also really happy that I got to reflect a lot of my own experiences in If Found. Llaura and I both grew up on the west coast of Ireland, and although If Found... isn't autobiographical for either of us, it was definitely really meaningful to be able to tell a story that reflected our own experiences of growing up as queer teens in a similar kind of environment. Since the game came out we've had fans reach out to us and tell us that they also connected to the experiences of the main characters, and as far as I'm concerned, that makes me feel like I achieved everything I wanted to.

You are a writer and a visual artist. Does one come easier to you than the other?

I used to think of art and writing as talents, and I always felt like my art was at a very mediocre level (that's probably still true, lol). So when I was younger I focused a lot more on writing. It was only later that I started genuinely trying to improve as an artist, but when I did, I think I had a much healthier mindset, and approached it as a skill I could learn with patience and effort. Because of that, even though I still have a lot more confidence in my writing, I find art more fun and relaxing, and I don't stress about it as much.

Did you always know you would follow a creative path?

Kind of? Both my parents are artists, and I grew up surrounded by artists and writers, so it was something that was always very familiar and accessible to me. On the other hand, I didn't exactly have a clear idea of how to make it into a career, or what kind of work would be involved. But there's never been a point in my life where I wasn't doing something creative, even if it was only writing fanfiction.

What did your path to working professionally as a writer/artist look like?

I did a creative writing masters in college, but after that I spent years teaching English as a second language. That was really fun and I got to live abroad, but it was so busy and tiring that I didn't have time to do any writing outside of the occasional fanfic. I only started to take art seriously again when I became interested in games and comics as ways of telling stories. I did some critical writing, which led me to speak at a few local events and get involved in zine fairs. That was how I met Llaura, the director and lead of the Dreamfeel studio, and it's also what gave me the confidence to start applying for actual writing jobs.

Is there any work of art, visual or written, that you look to for inspiration?

So many! I try to read and watch as widely as I can, although there are touchstones I always return to, like the works of Ursula Le Guin and Terry Pratchett. Right now I feel very passionate about the actual play podcast Friends at the Table, which manages to combine really thoughtful worldbuilding and storytelling with cool, fun characters and great action scenes. I'm also reading a book called The Memory Police by Youko Ogawa, which has extremely beautiful prose.

Do you have a favorite piece of your own art, whether it is something you’ve drawn, a screenshot of something you’ve written or something else?

My favourite piece of art is usually whatever I finished most recently (I think that's true for a lot of people). Especially with visual art, once a bit of time has gone by you look back on it and start to notice all your mistakes, which is very annoying. But actually I do still really like the first piece of Fiona fanart I did last year. I managed to use some effects to give it a kind of nineties anime quality that I find really fun, and I think it conveys an emotion pretty effectively. That's always one of the hardest things to predict with visual art, whether the different parts will come together to create the exact mood you're looking for.

I also really like the compass I did for Bycatch. Krissy (@xekstrin) was the one who suggested filling it with fingernails, which was such a good, gross idea! As soon as I heard that I knew it was perfect and that I had to try and draw it.

Many people who read this blog know you as a writer for Lovestruck. When you look back on your time there, what stands out in your mind?

Lovestruck was very important to me when I first started because it was my first ongoing, regular, paid writing work. It gave me a lot of confidence and helped me to get into the habit of writing consistently and rapidly, which is a really useful skill to have. I know I was right to leave when I did, though, because I am just brimming with energy to work on my own projects, and channeling that power into something that you can't control will always end up disappointing you. Also, I made a ton of incredible friends, through Lovestruck itself but then even more so through VOW (@vowtogether), and that is more than worth all the difficult parts.

Is there any character that you would have liked a crack at writing?

Oh gosh, what a fun question! There are so many, but one I do sometimes think about is Axia, just because I know there are a bunch of fans who want her route, and because I had fun writing her as a villain in Zain's route. I can see in my head the shadow of a storyline that takes place after Zain's route is over, where she's in prison and trying to understand how she lost the battle with Zain and MC. I think there's, like, a gap there, where you could see her downfall forcing her to reconsider her assumptions about power, and that could build into a very interesting redemption story. But maybe it's for the best I never got to do that, because I would have wanted full creative control over it, and also I think the story in my head is very different to the sexy, in control, menacing version of Axia that her fans enjoy.

Do you have any upcoming projects you can talk about?

Most of my current work is under NDA, but I will say that I'm doing something very exciting with other VOW members that we should be able to talk about soon(ish). Maybe I can even give a little teaser... It's not a game, but it is something you can read, and my part involves cakes, swamps, and a museum.

Do you have a favorite quote or song lyric?

It's a big long, but there's a section from The Dispossessed by Ursula le Guin that has stayed with me ever since I read it:

"For we each of us deserve everything, every luxury that was ever piled in the tombs of the dead kings, and we each of us deserve nothing, not a mouthful of bread in hunger. Have we not eaten while another starved? Will you punish us for that? Will you reward us for the virtue of starving while others ate? No man earns punishment, no man earns reward. Free your mind of the idea of deserving, the idea of earning, and you will begin to be able to think."

It's such a profoundly radical way of imagining the world, so different to everything I was raised with, but whenever I think about it I feel like I can see something very beautiful and powerful that I hope to come closer to understanding some day.

And of course, "Solidarity forever, the union makes us strong."

I was a big fan of the show Inside the Actor’s Studio. Host James Lipton asked every single guest the same 10 concluding questions. I’ve picked 3 of them:

-What is your favorite word?

My favourite word: for sound, I like words you can really roll around on your tongue. Chthonic, alabaster, insinuation. For meaning, I think simple words that encapsulate big concepts have a kind of power to them. We use them so often we forget how big they are, how much weight they really have, but they give us the space to imagine new possibilities. Love. Freedom. Revolution.

-What is your least favorite word?

I've heard that "moist" is a lot of people's least favourite word but it doesn't actually bother me. My least favourite word is probably one where I feel like the sound doesn't match the meaning. One of the Irish words for rain is báisteach, which I feel has a much weightier and more onomatopoeic sound than rain. Rain is just very flat and uninteresting.

-What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Oh, so many! I love history, and I think being a historian/archaeologist would be fascinating. Or something that had a physical component to it, like being a potter or a carpenter. I don't think I'd be any good, but I'd love to take the time to learn.

What would be your advice to anyone who wants to pursue a creative career?

All the work you do matters. Even the failed experiments, the things you hate when they're finished. It all helps to make you better. Also, creative career paths are often really unexpected, so chase any opportunity that seems remotely interesting. Don't work for free for anyone who can afford to pay, but work for yourself and put it somewhere. On a blog, twitter, whatever. You'd be amazed how many people get noticed and get offered opportunities because of something they made in their spare time. You'll probably have to work another job for a long time, so don't be hard on yourself if you're too tired to devote much energy to creative work. Try to make art consistently, but don't feel like that has to mean every day. Don't chase after celebrities. Make friends with your peers.

[ra-baulger]

In Fragments, Everything Controversial

Nude Seated Male, in Yellow and Blue

"...but I don't have it, and she don't have it. Wish I knew how to say it better----to her, I mean. It's easy with you."

He drags the smoke over his tongue, switches his crossed legs and stares into his outstretched arm, its lank lazy over the chair's arm, but the veins full-thick. There's sweat on his upper lip and the smoke slips out of him, tumbles downward the ceiling, each moment skewed to meet my head hanging off the bed.

"Because it doesn't concern me?"

Idly I twiddle with the mess on my stomach and chest. He glances at me.

"Because she doesn't believe me."

Switches legs again, still bright red between. Mine starts, leaps seeing him.

"I'm not done yet. Help me?"

He looks as though I'd kicked him out the door, left him to suck dust and pick crumbs between floorboards.

But the staredown is a silent brief. He sets his cigarette in the chair's arm tray and climbs over me.

When I come back, he's returned to the chair, smoking and far away staring again.

"So, what will you do?"

If he was far away before, somehow he's passed through time. No longer in his uptown apartment, no wife on his arm whose body's plaintive to his lack of advance. Her arms against his chest, his eyes far from her breast. Instead, he's rocking a baby asleep, rose pink while she watches him, tears open. In a damp hand, is somehow a photo of two men loving, cupping and smiling. Yet he rocks the babe. He always imagined the babe to be immaculate, wreathed with fathers. He shared as much with his eyes closed, pinched shut likewise within his wife's heart.

"Hey."

I flipped and reached for his hand. He snaps back.

"Careful, you'll make a mess."

He's graceful to sweep me up, damping his discarded undershirt with the water we kept by the bed, and wipes me clean. But he lingers along my nipples and middle, tracing my edges.

"What will you do?"

My whisper touches his lips, he opens them to mine and breathes:

"I don't know."

Being younger, it was enough for me, but I felt the lightning of realization all the same. It was the prophecy of film and airport fictions. I could not wrest love away from lust. I was hungry, but he was starving. And I thought him beautiful for it, no better than she.

We left the hotel separately--in the still broad sun--thereafter. And I descended to the Wesside, where our people are open. He headed back Uptown, laced tight, shirt tucked, buttons high.

I slip into a corner coffee spot, more like a lean-to slammed into the alley between a theater and an old tenament. Black with espresso, a little honey and ripping hot in my hands. Back out onto the walk, I make my way some blocks still further west. Keeping my agenda: I've two auditions and a meeting with a photographer for next month's spread.

On Critique

If not in conversation, if not with the artist evaluated, scarcely are critical claims useful. Few things whelm like well water lauded to be from a mountain's spring, an unremarkable deceit. Head to the source instead, reach the water at the ocean where the artists swim.

Health-Wealth

Eat carefully, please:

set up grains, greens, teas, and beans.

Tuck in, leave else be.

See it as a gift,

not obtuse rules you will sift,

this gold benefit.

Red rich, feeling great.

Health enough to celebrate,

go take that earned break.

America

Off the pavement it boils heavily, musty fossil fuels--new soul and old--wrestle with trees in compelling twists.

Black faces, brown faces, yellow and red, all walking around, some well fed. Some hold signs and push forward hats or buckets for cash, one nearby specifically. But more so do they glance away, walk by. I see them all, and though I might wonder why, I don't judge them--no--there's no meaning in that, no truth to any distinction I could make.

Still, I watch all the same. And when I approach the near panhandler, hardly a buck to my name, I talk to them, offer some water and remember all the people I once turned away. These are the trees that fall in forests unnamed, with axe tracks up their trunks, infections in their upper boughs, leaves grow in maimed. No virtue for me--no--nor for anyone, not any single one. The sky is blue, the grass is green, the people are blackened blue, bruised by the Cream.

Yet as we talk, the prism of them rolls out, unveils: mother was young, died as a streetwise little dame who saw a lot but didn't know enough--no fortune teller fame. She fell to herself and the people she claimed. The panhandler, her son, came up in the tents and corners of the same people who took the mother's life 'way. The father was one of those claimants, twisted type, "one of the broken ones, mayne."

He'd fall into the gangs, the son--flashes a tat, street names--and couple of ill-healed holes, all the same. I tell him it's a shame, say I'm sorry for the lack of just bane to those, mayne. "I don't see it that way". He goes on to say that he enacted his own justice, took his old man's life 'way. "Eye for an eye, an' all that", so is the way on the corner he maintained, now a world's away.

He kept the water, I gave him a name: my brother. "That hits diffren'." Glad it wasn't the same. I pushed on, he waved away, and an Acura pulled up dropped him a big greenback, he says to the driver: "Hope you have a nice day."

Nothin' nice about it, this Way. Forge on, maybe we'll be okay someday. For now, the sky is blue, the leaves are green, the people a sight unseen, made obsolete by the Cream. Some kind of horrid irony.

Anti-anti-anti...

Shrug the gun, the fist's been flung.

Shrug the gun, missed a couple--

--trigger "clung".

What, maybe "fill-in-the-blank"?

Lose the thrill of the hammer click,

or how the pain illuminates

that this just a bad flick.

Snuff it out, gettin' nothin', mate.

\\:R.A. Baulger

Peace be, much love and respect to you and yours 🕊️💙🙇

[angelic-serenade]

Alastor + disaster cook! S/O

headcanons

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

you could not cook to save your life

any attempt at cooking would result in certain failure in the best case scenario and 5.4 magnitude earthquake damage in the worst

sure, you could make edible pasta and if you really put your best efforts into it, acceptable omelette too

but anything past that level of complexity was simply out of your league, a lost cause to put it mildly

don't you even think about making a cake, that shit's dangerous

as they say: as above so below

when you landed in Hell and found yourself joining the Happy Hotel soon after, you came to find out your culinary skills had not magically improved

which is quite ironic since Charlie had made you head chef of the hotel

the string of curses which had left your lips upon hearing the news had been legendary, even for Hell

you adored the demon princess with your whole heart (or whatever was left of it anyway), bUT REALLY CHARLIE? YOU DO NOT GIVE A GUN TO A CHILD AND EXPECT CASUALTIES NOT TO HAPPEN

at this point you were certain she was subconsciously auto-sabotaging

either way, you didn't have the heart to tell her no, so you decided to put your heart and soul into trying to learn how to properly cook, which didn't turn out to be the ideal choice of words since you were in Hell and your soul was probably rotten to the core

at least, nobody could say you hadn't tried your damn best

and hey! some days your cooking hadn't even been completely sickening

you decided to stick to easy, “safe” dishes though, you know, just to be sure

so pasta and eggs were definitely a thing

a constant and repetitive thing to be precise

you were trying your best, okay? nobody in your place with your limited set of skills would have taken the job, but you did and you deserved recognition for that feat alone

or a fucking donkey hat for your skyrocketing dumbness levels

things were not so bad at first

both Charlie and Vaggie were very supportive, each one of them in their own way - even though you had totally seen Charlie trying to swallow pure unadulterated fear that one time you had announced you wanted to try to cook something more elaborate

Angel Dust on the other hand... hadn't been as considerate as to lie to your face about what he thought of your cooking

"fuck me doll, this shit's disgusting"

*insert the I don't have friends they disappoint me vine here*

Vaggie had proceeded to give Angel quite the earful while Charlie tried her best to cheer you up

you went full hermit mode on them for two days after that

you were proud of yourself, handling criticism so well

anyway, the cycle kept repeating, with the only difference that most days Angel would grab something to eat outside of the hotel and join you during meals only to blankly stare at the plates and silvery

Charlie had tried to shield you from the truth, but you weren't that stupid

you respected Angel's choice, really, you did, and you had decided to be the bigger person among the two

that's why you began to put a lil bit of laxative into his portions whenever he decided to grace your efforts and actually eat your "disgusting cooking"

y’know just to spicy things up a little

at least now he had a valid reason to complain

with the whole fiasco on live TV and the sudden and suspicious appearence of the one and only Radio Demon at your doorstep, however, things started going haywire

Alastor's presence was eeirly demanding and unsettlingly charmimg at the same time

so it was only natural for you to gravitate the fuck away from him whenever you could

you always acted politely, greeting him whenever you bumped into him through the corridors of the hotel, but you only went as far as to appear courteous because you didn't want for him to go Hannibal Lecter on you. thanks, no thanks

“and what can you do my feminine fellow?”

“I can suck your dick!”

you had snorted a bit at that which immediately shifted the strawberry pimp's attention to yourself

“and what about you, pretty dame? I take it you're in charge of the kitchens around here?”

dressed in your chef attire, you were going to meekly answer him, but before you could, roaring laughter erupted in the room. it belonged to the one and only slutty spider you found oh so irritating

in the fraction of seconds, Alastor snapped his neck at an unnatural angle to stare at the spider with a strained smile on his face

needless to say, the cursed image would forever haunt your traumatized psyche

“hasn't your mother taught you it is rude to interrupt a conversation which you have no part in? that just won't do!”

static filled the air and you feared you were going to implode if the heavy pressure didn't lift off soon enough, so you decided to take action

“ugh... yes, I'm the head chef! but, well, I... could actually use some practice and proper training?”

you hated how uncertain you sounded, but Angel's comments and your own dissatisfaction with your culinary products made you quite self-conscious about your skills

“don't fret your pretty little head about it, my dear! I, for one, am a culinary connaisseur and wonderful chef, if I do say so myself. I'll be ecstatic to guide you through your training!”

how you'd be able to handle his booming voice during hours and hours of practice was your first and main concern, but you had never been one to refuse the chance to finally prove the people who had criticized you wrong *cough cough* Angel Dust

since that day, Alastor began to personally give you cooking lessons

he was exuberant and pretty sly when it came to veiled jabs about your dreadful cooking, but he really took his time to help you out

which you had been both grateful and suspicious about

“now, we can't have our future patrons starving to death, can we?”

he was strangely patient and an overall good teacher too (emphasis on overall)

he guided you step by step through each dish, simultaneously showing off his own flawless culinary skills

you hated that you daily found yourself boosting his already GIGANTIC ego, but you couldn't help it. you could only dream about reaching that level of artistry in cooking

he always came up with creative recipes to test your limits and cooked for you in order to make you more familiar with different tastes. his mother’s were your favorites, jambalaya being his one true specialty 

he had blindfolded you once and proceeded to present you with various samples of spices, oilments and all kinds of food so that you could acquaint yourself with the smells and flavors of the ingredients and figure out yourself which ones would best suit a certain dish

saying you were hesitant at first was an understatement, because you know? being completely at the mercy of a sadistic serial killer who had terrorized the seven circles of hell? not even being able to see him? not on your bucket list

he had tried to ease your nervousness with the whole “if I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would have done so already” thing, but it was getting kind of old pretty fast

“if I had been one to play with fire, I'd have joined a circus”

he found your sense of humor as endearing your sheer presence

(when he rolled up his sleeves to cook, you felt like you could catch fire any minute, you were a slut for strong skinny arms) 

yes, Alastor had always loved to show off his own impeccable skills but he unexpectedly found himself enjoying the moments spent in your company too

he relished in seeing you fail again and again, but he also admired the way you always managed to bring yourself back up to your feet each time

he had yet to fully understand if it was foolishness or stubbornness to guide your steps

either way, you turned out to be his favorite form of entertainment in the hotel!

no matter how many slights would he send your way, you'd always manage to find an appropriate remark that made his permanent smile stretch a little more in sheer amusement

“oh dear, this beef is so undercooked one could still hear the poor beast’s lament”

“the only noise I hear is the obnoxious ramblings of an arrogant boomer”

he wasn't technically a boomer but it was always so satisfying to irk him with terms he had no knowledge of

during your cooking lessons, when the only thing left to do with a dish was wait and pray for the best, you'd come to talk about everything and anything

he'd talk to you about his precious New Orleans as he remembered it and you'd fill him in on recent historical/social developments of your time

he always looked so taken when you shared with him that modern knowledge and it made you feel useful for a change

it was, dare you say it, almost adorable how he'd ask you countless questions about your home town, the catastrophes of the last century and had there been any other war since his death?

the topic switches almost made you dizzy though

once or twice, when the timing allowed, he'd even indulge in a musical show to pass time

on the days your mood soured because of a particularly complicated recipe or bad result, he'd drag you along and dance until you were so distracted by the absurdness of the circumstances that you forgot about your previous sadness

with time, his musical shows became more frequent as he realized you'd always offer him a genuine smile after his flashy performances

it was out of personal indulgence, not because he liked the way his music always seemed to cheer you up

he'd not been vocal about the way he tried to comfort you, but you were grateful nonetheless

the first time you managed to succesfully complete one of his complicated recipes, you had almost cried

“now, now deary, under my watchful eye, it was only a matter of time until you'd finally blossom into a fine cook!”

“Alastor can I... can I hug you?”

and how could he say no to such an adorable expression? he found himself stunned into silence, not being able to tell you yes either, therefore you slowly came closer as if trying not to scare a wild animal away

when Alastor passively stood before you, not moving away, you wrapped your arms around him

he really was such a dorky noodle

he didn't relax into the hug, but he kept still as you relished in the moment and let the pressure you had hoarded for months now loose

Alastor proceeded to show off your dish during dinner and even Angel Dust could do nothing but shut up and dig in

The all powerful Radio Demon was simply so proud of your progress - not that he doubted you'd prevail in the end, thanks to his expertise and guidance

from that moment onward things only got better and even if you didn't necessarily need Alastor's help anymore, neither of you ever mentioned going your separate ways

you were both secretly glad for the silent agreement

friendly banter and dad jokes were a daily occurrence and with your new-found confidence in the field, you'd always bite back showing off new delicious dishes instead than words

you still had trouble every now and then, but Alastor was always there to help you out

not that you'd ever hear the end of it if you actually asked him for help

“what was that, my darling? is the mightiest chef in Hell having trouble in Paradise?”

you had noticed however that he'd started sneaking glances your way more than usual lately and he also started following you around wherever you went in the hotel. he became your shadow both inside and outside of the kitchen

the attention soon became unnerving, even more so when you'd go in the kitchen only find a different flower on the counter each morning

you came to realize that Alastor's advances were rather old fashioned, but you would amuse the dork and yourself for a while before taking charge

gifts became an ordinary occurrence as well as praise and you preferred not to think about what praise could do to you when it came from Alastor

he enjoyed your reactions to his flattering words a little too much, he had to admit

you had had enough of his childish antics one day and you decided to finally put your plan into action

“Al, can you come here for one sec?”

he wasn't particularly fond of the nickname, but you just loved to get under his skin as much as he did when it came to you

“what can I do for you, my darling chef?”

“here, I have a gift for you”

he looked uncharacteristically unsure of what to do but slightly amused as well. in the end curiosity took the best of him and he finally decided to open the box you had handed to him rather unceremoniously

“what is this dear?”

the apron you had chosen was a perfect fit for your long boi

“read it, please”

“kiss the cook? well, if you ask me so nicely, I just might have to”

he then proceeded to peck your cheek and you swore you could have fainted right there and then by the sheer sweetness of the gesture

it hadn't exactly been what you had planned, but you weren't going to complain

your relationship was bound to be full of surprises apparently

[tseneipgam]

'You know, Jeffers, that I am interested in the existence of things before our knowledge of them – partly because I have trouble believing that they do exist! If you have always been criticised, from before you can remember, it becomes more or less impossible to locate yourself in the time or space before the criticism was made: to believe, in other words, that you yourself exist. The criticism is more real than you are: it seems, in fact, to have created you. I believe a lot of people walk around with this problem in their heads, and it leads to all kinds of trouble – in my case, it led to my body and my mind getting divorced from each other right at the start, when I was only a few years old. But my point is that there’s something that paintings and other created objects can do to give you some relief. They give you a location, a place to be, when the rest of the time the space has been taken up because the criticism got there first. I don’t include things created out of words, though: at least for me they don’t have the same effect, because they have to pass through my mind to get to me. My appreciation of words has to be mental. Can you forgive me for that, Jeffers?. There wasn’t another soul in the gallery that early in the morning, and the sun came through the big windows and made bright pools on the floor in the silence, and I stepped around as joyfully as a faun in a forest on the first day of creation.'

'It was as if some breeze kept wafting towards me, bearing a tormenting scent of freedom- and that same torment suddenly seemed to have bothered and pursued me for too much of my life. I felt I had dismantled everything and run this way and that trying to get at it, the way someone with a bee sting might tear at their clothes and run around making their agony visible to people who don't know what's wrong. I kept trying to make Tony talk to me about it- I felt a burning need to speak, to analyse, to get these feelings out of me into the open where I could see them and walk around them. One night, when Tony and I were going to bed, I flew at him in a rage and said all kinds of terrible things, about how lonely and washed up I felt, about how he never gave me any real attention of the kind that makes a woman feel like a woman and just expected me to sort I’ve gave birth to myself all the time, like Venus out of a seashell. As if I knew anything about what makes a woman feel like a woman! In the end I flounced off to sleep on the couch downstairs, and I lay there and thought about what I'd said and about how Tony never does anything to hurt or control me and in the end I ran upstairs and jumped into bed with him and said: 'Oh Tony, I'm sorry to have said such terrible things. I know how good you are to me and I don't want ever to hurt you. It's just that sometimes I need to talk in order to feel real, and I wish you would talk to me.' He was silent, lying on his back in the darkness and staring up at the ceiling. Then he said: 'I feel like my heart is talking to you all the time.'

'One at the difficulties, Jeffers, in telling what happened is that the telling comes after the fact. This might sound so obvious as to be imbecilic, but I often think there’s just as much to be said about what you thought would happen as about what actually did'

'The pattern of change and repetition is so deeply bound to the particular harmony of life, and the exercise of freedom is subject to it, as to a discipline. One has to serve out one's changes moderately, like strong wine. I had very little awareness of such things in my existence before Tony: I had no idea at all why things turned out the way they did, why I felt gorged with sensation at one minute and starved of it the next, where my loneliness or joy came from, which choices were beneficial and which deleterious to my health and happiness, why I did things I didn't want to do and couldn't do what I wanted. Least of all did I understand what freedom was and how I could attain it. I thought it was a mere unbuttoning, a release, where in fact- as you know well- it is the dividend yield by an unrelenting obedience to and mastery of the laws of creation. The rigorously trained fingers of the concert pianist are freer than the enslaved heart of the music lover can ever be. I suppose this explains why great artists can be such dreadful and disappointing people. Life rarely offers sufficient time or opportunity to be free in more than one way.'

'Language is the only thing capable of stopping the flow of time, because it exists in time, is made of time, yet it is eternal- or can be. An image is also eternal, but it has no dealings with time- it disowns t, as it has to do, for how could one ever in the practical world scrutinise or comprehend the balance sheet of time that brought about the image's unending moment? Yet the spirituality of the image beckons us, as our own sight does, with the promise to free us from ourselves'

'What I wanted L to understand was that this will of mine that he so objected to had survived numerous attempts to break it, and at this point could be credited with my own survival and that of my child. It had likewise brought disaster and dispossession on me-but better dispossession than to live where hatred walks around disguised as love! To lose my will would be to lose my hold on life -to go mad- and I was in no doubt that it could break one day of its own accord, I said to L, but it was my suspicion that a woman's madness represents the final refuge of the male secret, the place where he would destroy her rather than be revealed and I had no intention of being destroyed in the way- I would sooner destroy myself'

'and thought again about the feeling his attention had given me, which was a golden feeling of health. Oh, why was living so painful, and why were we given these moments of health, if only to realise how burdened with pain we were the rest of the time? Why was it so difficult to live day after day with people and still remember that you were distinct from them and that this was your one mortal life?'e

'and thought again about the feeling his attention had given me, which was a golden feeling of health. Oh, why was living so painful, and why were we given these moments of health, if only to realise how burdened with pain we were the rest of the time? Why was it so difficult to live day after day with people and still remember that you were distinct from them and that this was your one mortal life?'

'He didn't seem to recognise that this was Tony's property and that Tony could do what he wanted here, and I believe the reason he didn't was because L's conception of property was as a set of inalienable rights attached to himself. His property was the radial sphere of his own persona; it was the environs of wherever he happened to be. He was defending his right not to be trespassed on by whoever might choose to come and let off a gun next to his ear- or so I was able to surmise.'

'She had come along with L on a whim, not as a plan for life! I often thought, Jeffers, during those days, of the importance of sustainability, and of how little we consider it in the decisions and actions we take. If we treated each moment as though it were a permanent condition, a place where we might find ourselves compelled to remain forever, how differently most of us would choose the things the moment contains! It may be that the happiest people are those who broadly adhere to this principle, who don't borrow against the moment, but instead invest it with what could acceptably continue into all moments without causing or receiving damage and destruction- but it requires a great deal of discipline and a certain degree of puritanical cold-heartedness to live in that way.'

'She had come along with L on a whim, not as a plan for life! I often thought, Jeffers, during those days, of the importance of sustainability, and of how little we consider it in the decisions and actions we take. If we treated each moment as though it were a permanent condition, a place where we might find ourselves compelled to remain forever, how differently most of us would choose the things the moment contains! It may be that the happiest people are those who broadly adhere to this principle, who don't borrow against the moment, but instead invest it with what could acceptably continue into all moments without causing or receiving damage and destruction- but it requires a great deal of discipline and a certain degree of puritanical cold-heartedness to live in that way.'

'Whether or not it was him we had seen on the marsh, L was now standing at his easel, and the moonlight fell in pale bands across him and across the furniture and the floor, so that he seemed almost to be a mere object among other objects. He was working in deep concentration, so deep that he barely moved, thought I believe he was usually very kinetic and mobile in the act of painting. Nonetheless he was still, and watching him I realised that a certain stillness is the most perfect form of action. He stood very close to the canvas, almost as though he were feeding from it, and therefore blocked my view of it. I stood there for a long time, not wanting to disturb him with any clumsy noise or movement, and then I very quietly went away, feeling I had witnessed something in the way of a sacrament, the sort of sacrament that only occurs in nature, when an organism -be it the smallest flower or the largest beast- silently and unobserved confirms its own being'

[edwardslostalchemy]

Hey😊, just wondering but do you know some good tododeku fics? Like, any personal favourites? From the stuff you post and reblog your taste seems to be close to mine so I thought I'd ask. Btw kudos again on the anti Bakugou thing, it's so nice seeing posts against him on my dash😍

Hello!!! I am sorry I took so long to answer this, but I came to deliver the goods. alfkajfalk Hopefully, these are to your liking since we have similar tastes like you mentioned. Also I’m really glad you’re enjoying the posts!!! I love criticizing his character. He’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I will only recommend fics that are T rated and under just because I don’t...feel comfortable sharing M rated fics. I have minors following me and I don’t want to share those things...(dm me if you want recs like that, but they’re adult tododeku, no under age stuff). 

A Plague On Both Your Houses by laquearia (honestly, anything by laq is really good)

sore must be the storm by Pouler (poulerslashes) (THIS ONE IS REALLY GOOD. Pro Hero tododeku and it’s oof suspenseful. Get ready. 10k words of good shit. Pouler also has more pro hero tododeku and a crumb of me actually is probably the fic that inspired Walk the Wire the most even though I read it after I started writing the fic and outlining the story. It’s rated M, though.)

Things Would be Ok by marzip (very soft, cute tododeku by @brightismarstonight !!!)

waterlogged (red blue, green) by lein (soulmates au, it’s so cute!!) 

Hello by imsocreative  (another soulmates au) 

put our heads together by alphonse (5 + 1 fic, real cute)

Capturing Our Love by Wolfkeeper989 is a 6 part fic series that is about Shouto and Izuku having like an instagram and Izuku takes pictures of Shouto and the page becomes really popular. Super cute!

Burn and Breathe by PitViperOfDoom (anything by @pitviperofdoom is REALLY good, so I recommend anything by Pit.)

Witness by PitViperOfDoom (this is not tododeku, it is like...friendship between them, but also Shouto is Izuku’s bodyguard. Regardless of no romantic relationship between the two, this is perhaps my favorite fic because it has like everything I love....an investigation in which Shouto is being the outstanding hero he is meant to be, Shouto as a pro hero, fights between Shouto and villains, Izuku being a fanboy ajflakfaj it’s one of my inspirations for Walk the Wire!!) 

Oh, Calamity! by All_time_low3st (this is by @protect-baby-shouto. It was the very first bnha fic I read and it was like the gateway fic for me into the fandom, so it made me into the hardcore fan I am today YEAH. It’s ongoing and it’s really good!!! 2nd year sports festival with a lot of drama and also dadzawa to boot? BRUH IT’S REALLY GOOD.) 

Success is Counted Sweetest by laquearia (Shouto has a crush on Izuku who hit his growth spurt aflakfjal RIP SHOUTO.) 

It All Started With You by dragonroses (This has an argument between Shouto and endeav*r and it has one of my favorite lines...ever...possibly.)

forever yours, shouto by Mellisah for spacemash (Shouto writes love letters to his fake fiance who turns out to be a real person aflakfja)

for you, anything by unreemarkable (THIS IS ONE OF MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITES AND REE IS ONE OF MY FAVE AUTHORS. THEY HAVE WONDERFUL FICS, PLEASE GO READ THEM.)

hey, did you know? by unreemarkable (part 2 of for you, anything alfkajfkla)

Green-Eyed Jealousy by CrzA (they have really good fics and like 2 or 3 fic collections of just tododeku fics alfkajfl)

Symbol of Love by Indrel (this is by @lovetododeku alfkajfalk it has visually impared Shouto and Izuku alfakjf 1!!!)

We Can Brave Through by marzip (this is also by @brightismarstonight and it’s SUPER CUTE. alkfjalf)

if my heart is a rose (then you are the water) by monoluna (Izuku leaves flowers for his classmates)

i fall to pieces (when i’m with you) by headrush  (pro hero tododeku and izuku comes in and they share an apartment....really good shit, I’m so into it)

hands, hearts, hurts by unreemarkable (I said I love Ree’s stuff YEAH. Shouto doesn’t hold Izuku’s hand for a reason.)

best of men by TMOTC (pro hero married couple tododeku oof that’s the good shit I am STARVING for)

demolition lovers: beginnings by TMOTC for kagsmilkbox (THIS IS ALSO ONE OF MY FAVORITE FICS. It has also greatly inspired Walk the Wire due to the social media aspect of it. It’s SO good!)

Heart Problems at your Nearest Teenage Breakdown by InsominiacArrest  (in a heart beat au in which Shouto is the pining mess alfkaf)

pls respond by Esselle (just....just read it, it’s so cute)

Hero Critiques and Heart Eyes by marzip (by @brightismarstonight aflkajfla Shouto is a good rival)

play ball by Lizxcliff (I never knew I needed a baseball tododeku au, but I really want it now)

Checks and Balances by indirectkissesiniceland (I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED A HOCKEY X CHEERLEADER TODODEKU AU BUT IT’S HERE AND IT’S REALLY REALLY CUTE READ THIS ONE, IT’S ONE OF MY FAVES. IT MAKES ME INCREDIBLY HAPPY AND I KNOW IT WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY TOO)

You’re a kind person. by sobakasuai (another soulmate au but it gives us that canon feel and yeah really good)

Warm Milk by ReddRox (by @red-white-n-daddyissues GAH this is super cute alkjafla)

A Question Panel To Remember by SerlinaBlack (Shouto and k*tsuki are in a hero panel and a fan who is trying to enjoy the show is uhh sitting right next to two guys....you’ll see what I mean when you read it. I love these kinds of fics)

i wanna hold you like you're mine by ClementineKitten (another 5 + 1 kind of fic and it’s so cute, Izuku falls asleep on Shouto alkfajfl rip his weak heart)

It’s a Biological Phenomenon and

It’s a Biological Process by darksscience (tododeku college au in which they take a cell biology class together aflkafj 1st one is Shouto pov, 2nd is Izuku pov)

V.I.P. by Esselle for NoWarningSignNoAlibi (Shouto is a Pro hero dating Izuku, a college student and they’re at a hero con and ahhh it’s really good)

Royal by Trenchcoatkitten (this one not only sent Izuku on a trip, but it also sent me along with him and oof it’s really good, really really good)

I don’t mean to self-promo, but I will self-promo. I’m writing 

We'll Take What Comes (a small collection of stories about tododeku just pining) and 

Walk the Wire (an idea that’s too big for my head, but I’m writing, I promise. Izuku disappears and Shouto and co. are investigating and trying to bring him back. Pro Hero married couple tododeku, visually impaired Shouto, platonic shouchako, lots of other things/tropes that I absolutely love...yeah...still editing chapter 2, but we’re getting there!)

 I hope these are to your liking! If you wish to see more, I have bookmarks on my AO3!!