#I'm mildly optimistic

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

The talk about celebrities and politics, reminded that I just saw a poll that also polled which celebrity endorsement would hold most sway with young voters. I don’t know how reliable the data is, but Taylor Swift was rated as one of the top 5 endorsers among young Republicans and Harry among young independents. The top 5 among young Democrats were all women; Zendaya, Beyoncé, Billie Eilish, Megan Thee Stallion, and Dua Lipa.

https://www.theupandup.us/p/young-voters-top-issue-economy-2024

I suspect it's almost meaningless anon. I can't think of a way of framing that question that would get useful information. It's basically just a proxy for who people like. But the Harry one feels quite fitting.

[akuma-tenshi]

so the new hullabaloo lore teaser, huh??

[secondhandskoot]

My side blog got suspended out of the blue this morning

For mutuals: I was/am @secondhandskootur. I'm using this new blog temporarily until I can (hopefully) get that one back up and running. I got no email or warning about it and I'm 99.9% positive it was glitch because my main art blog is still up? I created a whole new account for this one though just to be safe. I didn't break any of Tumblr's tos so idk what else it could be.

[niinnyu]

Listening to "Kaishingeki" by Eve (a song v personal to me) while thinking of Geto was a huge mistake *head in my hands*

[feralprancinghomosexual]

Oh neat the tradcaths are back blazing ex-gay testimonials on my dash. We can't make jokes about the queen dying or whatever but they can pay for this and that's fine somehow???

[ouchmyghostskin]

Season 2 predictions regarding payneland:

I've been having thoughts since seeing the cameo where George said that there was a deleted scene post confession/ pre Crystal saying goodbye, where Edwin encouraged Charles to be honest with her about how he feels (which is kinda insane character development compared to episode one??? But good for him). Granted , they deleted it and we don't know why, but I'm going to assume it was for space/time etc. Originally I wasn't really sure if Edwin had picked up on the open-endedness of Charles saying that they had forever to figure it out, though I suspected he hadn't, but I thought that if he *had* that he would most likely wait. But now I think that Edwin probably saw that as "I don't reciprocate but don't worry we'll figure everything out". So I think the likelihood that Edwin might pursue something with someone else in season 2 is a definite possibility. Fully accepting Charles "rejection" and consciously deciding to address his loneliness and desire for romantic/sexual connection, despite his feelings for Charles. And....I suspect it's going to be the cat king. And I suspect that Charles is going to be caught between his interest in Crystal and insane jealousy about Edwin, and it's going to be the catalyst for him realizing that his jealousy is romantic in nature.

There is always the possibility payneland isn't endgame but I'm an optimist 👌

Now for some personal thoughts about the above that has some mildly negative feelings about catwin so if you would rather not read you can scroll now. 👍. Yay for curating your fandom experience!

So I'll be honest, there isn't even a small part of me that ships catwin. I thought the plot line was interesting, and I think the cat king is an interesting character that functions very well as a catalyst. I don't *hate* it and I have absolutely zero negative thoughts about people who enjoy it, just to be clear about that. Ship whatever you want, it's all paper dolls in a sandbox to me. For me personally though, I found the dynamic coercive enough to put me off it entirely as a ship. (For some people that's fun to explore, or ignore, in ships for a wide variety of reasons that I have zero desire to police, so again, I'm not criticizing catwin shippers). Secondarily , I actually don't ship characters all that often, but when I do Im pretty OTP about it, so that's contributing. But if that's the direction they're going in , it makes sense for them to continue with the cat king since it's established that Edwin is attracted to him, and has appeared to forgive him for manipulating him in season 1. So....I'll not be thrilled to see catwin content in season 2? But I can grimace through it if it's not endgame. Also...I've seen whispers that indicate some parts of fandom don't enjoy the jealousy plotline specifically bc they feel jealousy is harmful? I get it if it just doesn't interest you or brings up bad memories, but emotions don't harm others. Being angry or jealous is an almost unavoidable part of the human experience. Only your behavior motivated by those emotions can harm people. So ...I'm ALL for Charles continuing to grapple with emotions like jealousy and anger and coming to terms with realizing they don't make him an abusive person. Even if he handles it imperfectly that's still an interesting flaw, and there's an extremely large sliding scale of behavior between "that's something to work on but you are a great person" and actually harmful/abusive. Yay nuance!

[vigilskeep]

can you talk about misinterpretations of wynne and zevran's dynamic??? i'm chewing on your analysis

i think it’s a very basic case of people simply taking what is said at face value, in a way that comes up a lot with your classic zevran misinterpretations and uhhh oversimplifications. zevran and wynne’s banters are full of his classic exaggerated flirtations. all of their banters hinge on this joke and they’re very funny. but i’m always mildly stunned when i see people taking that as... zevran actually literally just being horny AGSHSKKSKS

i don’t think people give zevran enough credit for how clever he is at dancing around the other companions. nobody ever really gets one up on him. i can think of one specific instance in banter where i do think something gets under his skin, which i think oghren of all people manages essentially by accident the one time he’s actually not really trying

anyway: wynne opens their first banter with “you must know that murder is wrong, i assume.” it’s very wynne; she makes a judgement and announces it as fact. zevran is slightly stunned by this and also how funny it is: “i’m sorry... are you speaking to me?” with this incredible disbelieving pause because, like, he’s the party assassin. but he’s also playing for time quickly on how to react to this out of nowhere. wynne then explains the simple narrative she’s constructed that joining the party is due to a crisis of conscience on zevran’s part about being an assassin. and zevran immediately jumps into exaggerated agreement, and once he gets a better idea, the first of his flirtations with her, until she gives up in exasperation. it’s an evasion tactic zevran is very, very good at and has been doing to you, the player, since his first appearance on screen. he wants to play on the characters he performs when they’re useful shields, whether it’s the victim or the flirt or what have you. but also always with that ironic air that he’s clearly doing a bit; there’s the charm of letting you in on a private joke, but also he needs everything to be a faintly ridiculous game to him, so he doesn’t have to be affected

zevran keeps this joke up for the full extent of his banters with wynne through the whole game, because he finds it wildly entertaining, of course, and because he has no interest in ever inviting the conversation she wants. he so badly doesn’t want to deal with her asking this that he decides to run this bit into the GROUND, and starts doing it pre-emptively to ward her off even after she stops trying to instigate the conversation. bc wynne may be a good way off the mark, and, ironically for someone wanting zevran to take this seriously, not able to imagine that his life and feelings may be more complex than assumed (absolutely classic spirit behaviour once again), but she is needling at his reasons for leaving the crows, which is the last thing wants to be honest with anyone about

making the assumption that zevran is flirting with wynne out of genuine interest is, to me, the same mistake as thinking zevran when you first meet the warden is flirting out of genuine interest. this is how he knows to stay alive. if he let his guard down, he’d be dead; if he wasn’t charming, he’d be dead; and if he ever stopped to dwell instead of being the “eternal optimist”, always instinctually grasping at one more chance to live another day, he’d be very, very dead. he’s not going to casually discuss vulnerabilities for someone else’s peace of mind and he definitely doesn’t have the kind of insecurity to need to explain himself to people who don’t know him or what they’re talking about. so, rogue evasion abilities activate! it’s time for him to dodge! which is what he spends the entire series of banters doing. but also he’s just still finding it funny throughout. she just gives him so much ammunition. it’s like taking candy from a baby. zevran loves an old and terrible joke repeated for several months solid, they age like wine to him

i also think wynne’s comments are a light jab at how zevran does get read by players. he’s not ashamed of being an assassin. there’s this great line in one of his dialogues with the warden that asks why he shouldn’t continue to do what he’s good at when so few have come by his skills “honestly”, as he believes he has. there’s a tendency to characterise him and characters like him as, ah, the guilt-ridden victim in need of a pure-hearted saviour to show him the light, etc etc, but that’s never been who he is. there’s no ending where he suddenly quits being an assassin lmao

[ghostboneswrites2]

My Reading List:

Daryl Dixon

This is a masterlist of some of my favorite works by other writers on tumblr! Features, one shots, drabbles, headcanons, etc. Anything reader x daryl that I enjoyed a lot. Will constantly update as I find more.

To the authors whose work is linked here: I wasn't sure if I should tag you or if that would be rude or annoying plz lmk if tagging is not preferred and I will remove your tag and leave it as just the link!

2 Batteries Away (mildly angsty smut) - by @pirateprincessblog

Wha's up there? (funny little convo) - by @celtic-crossbow

She's alrigh' (another funny little convo. This author is great with these) - by @celtic-crossbow

Can you flip me on my back? (smutty drabble that made me die) - by @dixonzzgirl

Dog headcannons (omg?? this was geniusly adorable????) - by @dixonzzgirl

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness (smutty one shot) - by @scudslut

Long Before (long, smutty, beautifully written reader!greene x Daryl) - by @ladywuvly

When Skies are Gray (we only have the first chapter so far but I'm already hooked) - by @optimist-pine

The World Keeps Getting Hotter (Daryl fears death for the first time, because of you) - by @celtic-crossbow

Older and Older Pt 2 (first fic is younger reader tormenting Daryl with her suggestiveness, second is the smutty payoff for his suffering) - by @d1xonss

Love me, love my cat (Daryl isn’t a cat guy but he doesn’t have a damn choice) by - @spectacular-skywalker

Best Served Cold (Walsh!Reader gets revenge on cheating fiancé with Daryl) - by @gutsby

Afterglow (a lovely Bethyl where Beth survived and ends up in the CRM) - by @galadrieljones

Failed to Protect You (a sad self insert but worth the tears) - by @on-twd-writing

Sleeveless (suggestive & lusty little one shot) - by @fluffy-dixon

Get Off My Back (angsty and cute) - by @metanoiahh

Shane’s Girl (ongoing Walsh!Reader x Daryl Dixon) - by @wannabespacesmuggler

“You’re so, so, so pretty.” (drunk!daryl fluff) - by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Take me High and I’ll Sing (Daryl overworking himself like the stubborn princess he is) - by @celtic-crossbow

The Fair (very sad but very good!) - by @xoxo-sarah

There Ain’t No God Here (spicy breath play smut) - by @darylbae

[etheries1015]

Arlecchino having a (female) s/o who is extremely sensitive and cries frequently.

You'd think arlecchino would have something against dating someone like this. Crying is a sign of weakness in her eyes, and honestly you were no different. Despite your typically optimistic and flamboyant personality, you were incredibly sensitive. Just leave it to Arlecchino to pick probably the most sensitive person in the world to choose as her lover, right?

You saw a sad play? Tears streaming down your face. You saw a malnourished dog on the streets? Sobbing while spending your life's savings to help the poor thing. It starts raining? You're crying, too. "Its been raining so much...The hydro dragon must be in such misery. I wish I could help him." One of the kids called you "mother" for the first time? You're sobbing uncontrollably. Most of the time Arlecchino would roll her eyes and be mildly unomftorable around your tears, but you knew she still loved you. Especially moments that it truly mattered, she would mutter a "Stop crying..." And pat your head, or quietly engulf you in a hug. She couldn't fully understand why you were always so empathetic and crying all the time, however they do say opposites attract, right?

Most of the time she found it to be one of your weak points, crying so much means you aren't strong to save face, right? That you don't have what it takes? Crying all the time was something only the pathetic and unworthy do...right?

Arlecchino heard two voices. One was her lover, you, and the other was the feeble whimpers of a child. She made sure to stay hidden from behind the door frame, eavesdropping on the conversation, where you and the young boy were left unaware of her presence.

"Father says I...shouldn't cry. I'm sorry, mother, I..."

"Freminet," Arlecchino heard your voice strong yet sweet, her heart skipping a beat slightly. She hadn't heard you so...authoritative in a long while. So loving, gentle...and so confident. There was not a hint of hesitation in your voice.

"I understand you think very very highly of Arle. She gave you a life here, along with your siblings. I know you look up to her. But if there is one thing we, even as lovers, disagree on..." The sound of rustling caused Arlecchino to glance around the corner, quickly noticing how you were pulling the young boy into your arms.

"Tears are not a sign of weakness. It means you have a strong heart, a heart full of emotions just waiting to burst and let loose. Strength comes from standing up again despite the challenges you have faced, and what may have made you cry." You pulled back and wiped his tears before poking his chest above the spot where his heart lay. "You have a beautiful heart, freminet. Its healthy, and strong. Strength is purely subjective, we can each decide for ourselves what strength truly means. Don't let someone else decide that for you, no matter how much they may mean to you."

"But-" the blonde haired boy went to object you, only to be promptly cut off.

"Arlecchino has her own definition of strength and weakness, and so do I. They are completely opposite from one another. But that doesn't mean the love between us isn't real because of that. We all still love you for who you are, Freminet. You're growing to be a very fine young man, and I'm certain you will find your own definition of strength. Create it yourself, okay? Your soul is meant to grow into your own shape, not forcefully conform into someone else's." There was no words, only the sounds of light sobs as Freminet hugged you tightly. You smiled slightly and pat his back gently and comfortingly.

"If you ever need a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to, I'm always here for you. You do not need to suffer alone."

Arlecchino could have sworn your gaze notice hers and lock eyes for but a moment, with a gentle smile placed upon your features. Quickly turning her heel and walking away, Arlecchino simply scoffed at the notion you were breaking down the principals she had built at the house of hearth.

Night had fallen and you entered your shared room with the Knave, who was currently laying in bed with the lights off and blankets covering her body. You strolled over to the bed, sitting down next to her as you gazed down to the quiet harbinger.

"Are you mad at me?" You inquired, "I know you heard what I told freminet. I assumed you would yell at me by now, about how crying isn't a sign of strength, and how I'm 'teaching them worthless things'. " You awaited a snotty response from your thickheaded lover, yet much to your surprise, there was no response. It was only when you sat your hand upon her shoulder did you notice the slightest tremble, your eyes widening before you were abruptly pulled down into the sheets with strong arms wrapping around you. Arlechinnos head tucked into your shoulder, you could feel wetness seep through your shirt. You smiled sadly and began to hold her back, stroking her soft black and white locks.

"I see you're taking my advice, huh? Did I strike a chord finally?"

"Shut up."

With a shaky voice and mild hesitation, Arlecchino had become far more vulnerable than she had ever felt before.

"You're a bad influence," she sighed into your shoulder, her grasp tightening. With a chuckle and another gentle kiss, you hummed in amusement. It wasn't long before you felt the trembling come to a halt and Arlecchinos breathing even out, you closed your eyes and began to drift off into sleep with your lover still in your arms.

Maybe crying wasn't as bad as she made it out to be. At least, not when she had someone to hold her tight all night.

[rius-cave]

Currently thinking about Charlie and Vaggie spying on Adam and Lucifer doing mildly romantic things, while hiding in some bushes

Charlie: Hnnnggg...😬

Vaggie: Do you...want to do domething to break the two of them up?

Charlie: I dunno...that would be so MEAN

Lute (from a different bush): I can't believe I'm saying this, but if we're breaking them apart I'm with you

Vaggie: Where did you come from?! WHY are you even here?!

???: Count me in too, Ladies!

Charlie: Excuse me, who in the seven Hells are you?

???: Name's Cain, and I don't want to see your dad getting it on with my dad!

Oh my god, that's so sad LMAO why can't anyone SUPPORT THEM

But for real tho, I think it depends on how far into redemption Adam is, but I'd like to think Charlie is at least, mildly optimistic!

[sirfrogsworth]

Mounjaro's Revenge: The Inevitable Adventures of Froggie, Chapter Unknown

I keep saying I can't leave the house without having some kind of adventure. And I really thought I was going to have a quick, uneventful doctor's visit with my monthly checkup this past Wednesday. I'd go in, they'd check the box Medicare requires every month, and I'd come straight home.

But adventure seeks me out. I can't seem to escape its grasp. And, yes, sometimes I like having adventures. They give me something to write about. And sometimes they are fun memories. But sometimes adventures just make me tired. And not all adventures are positive.

For the past 3 weeks I have been on the second dosage amount of Mounjaro. Unlike the Ozempic, I have had a few issues with side effects. Roughly 48 hours after my injection, I get sick to my stomach and feel pukey. It lasts for about two hours. I either vomit and lose the urge or I hold it in and it fades. I am then compelled to take a nap.

Considering the weight loss and glucose control, getting sick for an hour or two per week isn't a huge deal. There is a good chance I will get used to the medication as time goes on, but even if I don't, I am okay with this consequence.

My injection day was Tuesday, and based on past experience, I figured I'd have until Thursday morning before I got sick. The past 2 episodes happened at almost identical times, so I figured Wednesday wouldn't be a problem.

But right before my doctor's appointment I started feeling extremely... rough.

Optimistic for no good reason, I was hopeful I could get through the appointment before the urge to vomit arrived.

I get to the office and there are 3 patients ahead of me. This was not a good sign. My doctor tends to overbook and I was probably going to have a bit of a wait. I arrived in the middle of a lively conversation about where to get a good steak in St. Louis. I'm used to waiting rooms being full of quiet and bored people staring at their phones so when I opened the door it felt like the conversation smacked me in the face.

The cast of characters were as follows...

There was an older black man who had the spirit of a kindly grandpa. He seemed nice and wise and was enjoying the steak conversation. Let's call him, Old Guy.

There was an older white fellow who was anxious about the wait time due to having another appointment soon. He was on hold with the other doctor's office trying to delay his appointment time. He was only mildly interested in steak due to that distraction. I already used Old Guy, so... Anxious Guy.

And then there was the steak expert who was leading the conversation. Actually, leading is not strong enough. He was *dominating* the conversation. As I sat down and his visage entered my field of view, I was a bit taken aback.

Do you know how in Star Trek everyone has a mirror universe doppelganger who may look the same, but they usually have personality traits that are reversed?

They are often identified by arch overacting or a change in facial hair.

The steak expert was my mirror universe counterpart. He was of similar age, height, and weight. Same color hair and eyes. He even wore similar clothing.

But he had a goatee instead of a beard. *gasp*

And he wore... sandals. *double gasp*

He had clearly been in a recent transporter mishap.

I mean, I could *never* wear sandals. The world is not ready to handle my nude foot and I find very few sandals have the load-bearing capacity necessary for people my size. You are asking for foot pain if you are over 300 pounds and wearing sandals.

Mirror Froggie was very outgoing and personable, but he had trouble filtering what he said and was often obliviously rude. He clearly thought himself to be hilarious but struggled to make even kindly Old Guy chuckle.

Old Guy said, "I think Longhorn makes a decent steak for the money."

And then Mirror Me's unfiltered response... "Longhorn is shit. You shouldn't eat there. You are wasting your money on shit steak."

"I don't know, I've always enjoyed..."

"I'm telling you, friend, it is shit steak. End of story."

You could tell that made Old Guy feel bad for suggesting what he liked. But he brushed it off and asked for a better suggestion. Mirror Froggie confidently told him of a restaurant called "Sam's" that had "the best steak in town."

Old Guy proceeded to ask Siri to look up Sam's and it took a few tries. He reminded me of my dad fighting with the iPhone and repeating things over and over with increasing volume. I think Old Guy wasn't specific enough as he got the wholesale club on the first few attempts. Finally he said, "SAMMM'S STEAKHOUSSSSE" and found success. Old Guy saw the reviews and some of them were... not great.

But Mirror Froggie was like, "You can't read reviews. They're all liars." And I was questioning why people would take the time to lie about a small St. Louis steakhouse, but whatever. He then said it was because the restaurant was in disrepair and needed new plumbing, but that's why they could sell such amazing steak at reasonable prices.

Theories are less logical in the Mirror Universe. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anxious Guy got off his phone call and cursed into the void. He missed his other appointment. He interjected with, "Is that Sam's place expensive?" And that sent Mirror Froggie into a long diatribe about the price of meat at different places and his annoyance at steak-related inflation. Soon after, Anxious Guy finally got in to see the doctor. Old Guy was keeping Mirror Froggie busy with conversation, so I just closed my eyes and rested as they discussed the price of oversized shrimp "as big as your fist". I guess they ran out of things to say about steak.

As they were talking I started to get a spidey-sense about Mirror Froggie.

He *needed* conversation.

He *needed* distraction.

His boredom abhors a vacuum.

Whenever there was a lull or silent moment, I could see him getting very antsy. And if Old Guy got called in before Mirror Froggie... I was going to have a problem.

I was feeling sicker by the moment and did not have the bandwidth to help some stranger with his inability to accept boredom.

And... Old Guy was next.

Because, of course he was.

I feel like sitting there with my eyes closed and also not having said a word the entire time was a pretty decent social cue that I was not interested in talking. But Mirror Me decided to poke that notion with a stick in order to find a way in.

He speaks barely above a whisper, "I wish I could sleep in a public waiting room. Not sure how you do that."

"Yeah, I'm not feeling well. Nothing contagious, just very tired."

"Well, if you're sick, I guess you're in the right place, am I right? *long pause* Cuz we're next to a hospital. *short pause* Right?"

Oh great, he's a joke explainer.

Mirror Froggie did not care about my desire to sit in peace while I waited. His foot was anxiously a-tappin' and he was vibrating with energy that needed someplace to go. He tried standing up and walking in circles. And I guess because my eyes were shut he decided to narrate his walking and stretching to keep me informed. That satisfied him for roughly 20 seconds. He sat back down and was clearly struggling to be alone with his own thoughts.

"Hey, friend."

I open my eyes slowly.

"Do you see that magazine next to you? Would you mind handing that to me?"

I thought, "This is good. He's seeking out an alternate source of stimulation. He can read the magazine and I can rest until my turn."

Seriously, brain... where is this optimism coming from? I've been a cynical misanthrope for like 4 years now.

He flips through a few pages. "Look at this. It's got Oprah on the cover. It's got to be good, right? They don't put Oprah on the cover unless it is good, ya know? Though she doesn't look right after losing all that weight. You know what I mean, friend?"

Well, shit.

I didn't give him a distraction, I gave him a conversation starter. Still, I kept my eyes closed in the hopes he would give up.

"Hey, friend."

Crap.

"You want to hear a joke?"

I open my eyes. I'm not getting out of this.

"Sure." as unenthusiastically as I can manage.

He proceeds to tell three jokes all strung together. All of them terrible and none of them coherent enough for me to remember. I gave him complimentary singular chuckles even though two of the punchlines didn't make sense. I think one was about accidentally eating cat food.

"Hey, friend... how'd you like my jokes?"

I jokingly replied back, "Well, you said *a* joke and that was *three* jokes. That wasn't what I agreed to."

He chuckles and I close my eyes again.

"Hey, friend."

Jesus Christ, would someone jingle their keys for this dude?

"Do you want to hear a 'locker room' joke?"

Oh fuck me.

"I... guess?"

There was no way out of this aside from unpleasant confrontation and my energy calculation of that was much higher than just suffering through a dirty joke.

Here it is, as best as I can remember...

"So there is a pirate ship. And the captain has a beautiful daughter who has come aboard. He tells her that the crew hasn't seen a woman in a long time and they aren't safe to be around, so she should keep a razor blade 'down there.' After the voyage he assembles all of his men and instructs them to pull down their pants. Every one of them has had their dick cut off... except for one. The captain goes up to the only one with their dick intact and says, 'Thank you for not deflowering my only daughter. You should be commended for your restraint. And as a reward, I will make you my first mate.'"

I literally cannot type the punchline because it was an unintelligible noise. Basically, Mirror Froggie imitated someone without a tongue trying to speak.

Yeah. That happened.

I could not hide my disdain for this joke and I was feeling too awful to muster up any kind of response. He seemed confused by the absence of laughter from his wonderful rapey body mutilation joke.

"You get it, friend? He lost his tongue because he ate her pussy."

Yes, explaining the joke always helps... friend.

In whatever the opposite of the nick of time is, moments after this stranger said "ate her pussy"... the nurse calls Mirror Froggie in for his appointment.

I would feel relieved, but the Mounjaro side effects were getting worse and the urge to lose the remaining nutritional value from last night's dinner was increasing by the moment. I was next in line, so I was hoping Mirror Froggie didn't take up too much of the doctor's time with horrible "locker room" jokes and dubious steakhouse suggestions.

Roughly 5 minutes later the nurse calls me in to get my vitals. She weighs me and I am down another 3 pounds. That reminded me of why I was suffering this tummy tantrum. My blood pressure was perfect but my pulse was quite high. I was very anxious holding in my stomach contents and I tried to explain, but she asked me to try and relax to lower my heart rate. We compromised when I got it down to 107.

The nurse keeps forgetting that I don't really have a family anymore. And I know she has a lot of patients in and out and they probably all blend together. But she always ends up asking me questions that require me to remind her my parents are dead.

"Did your mom put up the Christmas tree yet?"

I went with, "No tree this year. Too much work."

"Aw, that's too bad. I actually got mine up early this year. You gotta put up a tree for Christmas."

Thankfully her job was done at this point and she abruptly ended the conversation.

Next up, the pee guy.

He has never actually told me what his name is so that is just what I call him in my head.

Every month I have to sacrifice my urine to the gods of Medicare so they know I am taking my meds and not selling them on the mean streets of Spanish Lake. And the pee guy always comes in to collect my sample. The little cup is kept in a white paper bag for discretion. He used to just give you a clear ziplock, and that was a little embarrassing, as everyone in the waiting room could see your pee. I definitely prefer the new white paper bag system.

It could be my lunch or some cookies or a bunch of peanuts.

Who is to know?

The pee guy is a bit of a talker as well. But the nice thing about his conversational style is that you can't get in a word edgewise. If he asks you a question, he'll even answer it for you. This requires very little effort on my part.

"Hey there, Mr. Benjermin!"

(I have noticed Ben-jer-min is a common pronunciation among Black folks in the area. Not sure if that is just a St. Louis thing or not. Perhaps I have a dialectologist follower who knows.)

I wave hello.

"How's it going, Mr. Benjermin!? Good? Good. Just gotta get your sample. Still taking the same meds? (I nod yes.) Okay, just need you to sign here. New Year's is coming up. Gotta be careful not to party too hard. You'll be regretting that. Though you don't look like a drinker to me. (I nod no.) Yeah, you're a good one. You keep it clean. Okay then, Mr. Benjermin. You're all set. Here is your new sample cup for next time."

He replaces my white paper bag with a new white paper bag and leaves the room without me saying a word. And I'm just realizing he asks me if I am a drinker quite a lot. He must sense my teetotaler spirit or something because he always assumes (correctly) that I don't drink. He's just really concerned about me partying too hard.

Finally the doctor comes in.

My doctor is kind, compassionate, and competent. The almost 3 Cs. But he's got a touch of what I call "Boomer-itis." He's on the progressive side of most things but there are a few ingrained sensibilities from that generation he didn't escape. It's mostly harmless. Though he said something sexist in front of a nurse practitioner student during my last visit that made her roll her eyes behind him.

He greets me and I tell him I'm not feeling well from the Mounjaro and that I am still recovering from my trip to Florida. He tells me that a lot of people can get sick for days from these new drugs, so getting sick for an hour or two isn't so bad. I agree, though I really wish I had not gotten sick at the exact time of this appointment. I keep eyeballing the trash can in the corner just in case things go sideways in my tummy.

He asks about my trip to Florida and I predicted that—as I already had photos ready to go on my phone. I scroll through them, showing off amazing cityscapes and mountainous clouds and an orange sunset over a lake—hoping to impress him with my photography skills to no avail. And then he sees Katrina. Now, I am not blind to her attractiveness, but I do sometimes forget how people respond when they see her next to me.

"Oh, wow. She's beautiful!" he exclaims.

I almost felt flattered on her behalf. But then his Boomer-itis starts to kick in. And he repeats, "Yeah, she's *really* beautiful. Just a friend, you said?" His facial expression and tone of voice are like, "You poor thing, you have been friendzone'd." And probably a touch of, "She's out of your league, buddy." I don't know exactly how to describe it, but it is this familiar look of pity and worry. This is usually followed up with a probing question trying to figure out what our "deal" is. Why is it so odd to that generation that a man and woman can earnestly be just friends and perfectly content with that arrangement?

It would be the easiest thing in the world to just say, "She's gay" and that she isn't "out of my league" as she plays an entirely different sport. (Competitive Subaru Ownership?) But my friendship with Katrina is not some consolation prize due to her queerness. I shouldn't have to explain or justify why I'm "just friends" or why I'm not "being led on."

In a worried tone, "So, umm, how'd you two meet?"

There it is.

"She is an artist. I posted some of her work on my website and it was very popular and helped people find her work. She messaged me to say thank you and we were instant friends. 10 years later she's my best friend and very much like family."

Thankfully his pity face evaporated and he finally saw how long-lasting and meaningful this friendship was. But it is a weirdly common obstacle I have noticed whenever people see a fat guy has a conventionally attractive friend.

Friends are great. Friends have been more supportive and beneficial to me than any romantic entanglement I've ever had.

All of my friends are hot and queer and that's awesome.

Note to self: Put that on a t-shirt.

Knowing how difficult it was, he congratulated me on surviving the trip and we wrapped up our appointment quickly. All I have left to do is check in with his assistant, get my prescriptions sent in, and make my next appointment. I can see the finish line, but my tummy is rumbling and I am making contingency plans for the Great Upchuck of 2023™. I'm clocking trashcans with plastic liners. I'm trying to remember where the nearest restroom is. And then I look down at the little white paper bag containing my urine sample cup and think, "Last resort."

Trinica (the competence ninja and my favorite person in the office) is processing my meds and searching the calendar for next month's visit. Shelly is keeping quiet and working on her computer. I start pacing back and forth. I'm not sure what I think that will do, but I think desperation is taking over at this point.

Shelly sees me and asks, "How's that whole disability situation going for you?" She is acting like my best friend now after cursing at me on the phone. I have a feeling she had an unpleasant conversation with my doctor after that episode because she isn't this sweet and nice to anyone.

I give her the update, "Everything is submitted. My lawyer is happy with all of the records we were able to find. It's just a waiting game now. It could be a couple of months but if I have to see a judge it could be over a year."

She commiserates with me about how slow the process can be.

Then, out of fucking nowhere, Mirror Froggie reappears in the little sliding reception window like a jumpscare in a horror movie.

Are you fucking kidding me with this guy?

"Hey Trinica, do you have a business card for the doctor? I want to recommend him to Doug."

Who the fuck is Doug? Are we supposed to know Doug? Is Doug the tongueless pussy-eating pirate who needs medical attention?

Trinica looks in her desk and is unable to find a spare card. So she stops processing my stuff and starts hunting around the office. She has a bad leg so she is slowly limping while searching every desk. I have never wanted to strangle anyone before, but my doppeldouche was really pushing his luck.

At this point I am just staring at the little trash can in the blood-draw room. I can feel the scrambled eggs reversing course through my digestive system.

Trinica finds a fucking card for fucking Doug and fucking Mirror Froggie finally fucks off to bother people that are not me.

Trinica gets me all sorted, I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, and make to the car.

I sit in the driver's seat, and with that unearned optimism, say to myself, "I made it."

For all of you who are squeamish about bodily fluids, you can just pretend this is where the story ends. Everything was fine. I made it home and was happy and comfortable and nothing gross happened. The nausea faded away and I lived happily ever after.

The End.

Thank you for reading this and have a lovely day.

Just scroll on by to the next post!

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.

.

Okay, so you all probably thought I was foreshadowing a monumental barf.

But foreshadowing is typically subtle. You don't want to give away the ending. Of course this was going to end in barf. The barfing was inevitable. The barf was not what I was *actually* foreshadowing at all.

Did anyone catch what it was?

You know that discrete white paper bag?

The one that could be for peanuts or maybe a sammich and definitely not my urine sample cup?

The last resort?

Look, it's all I had.

I was not going to make it home. I was not going to make it back into the bathroom. No trash bins on the horizon. Nothing in my car.

At first it was just an itty bitty baby barf. A perfect amount to be contained in a flimsy paper bag. I felt a relief wash over me.

"That's all?" still being stupidly optimistic.

But then I made that noise.

That... pre-retch noise.

That one where your head kinda juts forward and your lips make a giant O shape and you make a very specific grunting sound. That sound where if another person hears it, they involuntarily make the same specific grunting sound.

This was when I had one of those movie moments when a character knows they are about to die and they can't do anything about it. And I made this exact face as I waited for the impending doom of a vomitous explosion.

The Great Upchuck of 2023™ commenced.

And it was... intense.

Everything inside my stomach transferred rapidly, furiously, projectile-ly into the bag of foreshadowing.

I mean, I'm pretty much convinced my stomach is a TARDIS because I do not remember ingesting that much food. This sheer volume of barf had to be coming from another dimensional plane.

I could see it staining the sides of the bag as it was clearly not meant for this. When I finished it was barely intact—soggy, if you will. When I was absolutely sure I had ralph'd to completion, my only option was to gently place it on the passenger's side floor (sans floor mats). All I needed was for it to last 5 more minutes on the trip home and then I could dispose of it and pretend this never happened.

Physically I felt such a relief. Sometimes there is this post-puke euphoria where you just feel, well... lighter. Unburdened with no longer having that feeling. Happy it is over with.

I place the key in the ignition and head for home. As I'm driving I can't help but stare at the bag. I can see it mocking me as it changes colors. The exterior was getting... damp. If this were someone else's vomit, I would have been vomiting because of it. Just... so gross.

I get home and park the car. I walk around to the passenger side to begin the extraction process. I pull the trash can close and I have to psych myself up to deal with this horrible hurling happenstance.

And this next part, well... it would be hilarious if it weren't so damned disgusting.

I stare at the bag.

The bag stares back at me.

I take a deep breath and approach the bag.

The bag grins at me.

I gingerly grasp the very tippy-top in an effort to not touch any of the offending material.

I slowly lift up the bag.

And the very instant it reaches just enough height to do the most damage...

The bottom falls out.

If the bag had broken just as I was picking it up, the carnage would have been minimal. Only a small area to clean up. But clearly this bag read the Wikipedia page on air burst nuclear weapons. It knew you get a much more devastating blast radius if you detonate from an elevated position.

A TARDIS worth of partially digested scrambled eggs just pour and splatter and spray onto the floor of my car. It looked like the bag was puking out my puke.

The bag is now dead but I can feel its ghost laughing at me.

I stand there frozen holding the top of this evil deceased white paper bag trying and failing to process what just happened.

I realize I have no idea what to do with this situation. This is something that would usually be followed with, "MOoooOOOoooommmmm! How do I clean up vomit?"

And she would say, "You'll never do it right. I'll clean it up."

And I'd pretend to be like, "Oh no, it's my mess. I could never let you do that for me."

And she'd insist and break out her endless supply of very specific cleaning potions and magics and soon it would be as if the vomit didn't even exist.

So, I guess my question is... do I have to get my car detailed now?

The Actual End.

[aerkame]

Hey! I saw your HC’s about the versions of sun wukong’s. May I request “ Journey to the West: Legends of the Monkey King 2000? ” I really loved the show as a kid. I saw it on YouTube again and wondered about it! If..you saw this series that is. If not, I’ll take Netflix monkey king! It’s up to you!

I feel like doing both :p Also I'll be doing general HC because I'm not sure if you meant reader insert or just in general if this were in a fanfiction

Journey to the West: Legends of the Monkey King 2000

This monkey man is the definition of assertive

He sees something he likes? He makes it clear he will have it. There's a demon he wants to beat up? He'll talk about beating them up before actually following through with it. There's a person he wants to get with? He makes his intentions crystal clear to everyone around him without hesitation, heaven forbid you try to stop him, he will not allow it.

Surprisingly optimistic despite everything that has happened. There is nothing that can really bring down his mood once he's in a good one.

That means he's not exactly stable when he's in a rare bad mood. Just...give the guy some space if that happens.

Sometimes he'll accidentally break things or break someone. He just gets excitable and well...

Of course there's lots of apologies that ensue if the worst happens, though he doesn't like admitting he did something wrong.

Out of all the versions of Monkey King, this one is probably the most extroverted and friendly of the bunch. He for sure will make loads of friends if given the chance.

This version also seems to be the most open minded on things. Got something to say? He's all ears. Got something you want him to learn? He'll actually sit and listen (a rarity among Monkey kings)

Despite how loud and assertive he is, sometimes he can also be more quiet and gentle when the situation calls for it. It took some learned behavior from Tang though. But, it's a useful trait to have when you're someone like Monkey king.

Very energetic sometimes. He always needs to be doing something with his hands or going out and fighting stuff.

I'd assume this version is extremely protective of his SO if he has one.

Same can be said for his friends.

Would absolutely do everything he can to cheer someone up if they started crying in front of him. It really hurts to see someone so hurt...

Usually encourages people to be a better version of themselves (except Pigsy, he gave up on that guy)

Netflix Monkey King 2023

Oh boy where do I start?

If Leo the zodiac sign was a person, this would be him.

This guy, ooo- this guy really loves himself, and he makes sure everyone around him knows it too at every given chance.

Very confident in his ability to overcome any challenge or obstacle (he's just the best ain't he?)

Probably takes better care of himself and Stick than his own armor or anything else that's with him.

Would absolutely have a bunch of different shampoos, conditioners, and lotions in modern days. The guy loves to love himself, and look loved too.

Probably a huge flirt when he sees someone he mildly finds interest in. That or he'll just brag about himself to seem more impressive. (He's probably exaggerating)

Loves showing off

Modern version of him would probably be a lot more chilled out after the years, learning to just let things go and not be so impulsive or take things personally. He's still got a lot of work to do when it comes to letting people in though.

He's just afraid of losing people like Lin again you know? Right when he realizes he has a family, he loses them and sits isolated form the world for hundreds of years.

Usually prefers staying away from people, alone with Stick. Being alone as a kid does that to you.

Sometimes seeks out validation and love from crowds of people and fans.

He's a little more patient over the years, but just as chaotic.

Expect lots of malicious compliance from him. And pranks, he enjoys getting a good laugh out of others or just doing it for his own entertainment. (though he can border on just being a jerk)

Sometimes talks to Stick when he's alone, it's usually just him venting about things from the past.

Tends to get anxious when he's alone for too long or if there's a thunderstorm (doesn't need a lot of explaining to understand that).

Will be the sweetest monkey with someone he really likes. It's like he's a completely different person!

[qqueenofhades]

May I ask for new year’s eve Dreamling watching the ball drop because Hob celebrates every year, Morpheus isn’t the sort of person who cares at all, but Hob forces him to celebrate and wear the dumb paper glasses and stuff anyway

"Hob," Dream says, not for the first time, in a deeply pained tone. "I simply do not see why this rigmarole is necessary."

"It's necessary because I say it's necessary, you joyless git." Hob dulls the sting by leaning over to plant a kiss on Dream's cheek, adjust the 2024 cardboard glitter crown from Tesco that is perched atop the dread dark head of the immortal King of Dreams and Nightmares, and throw an arm over his shoulders -- all of which Dream suffers with the tense, bristled wariness of a cat suddenly subjected to excessive snuggling. "Plus, there's going to be a general election this year -- fucking finally -- and the Tories are going to get thrown out on their kleptocratic arses. Good as any reason to celebrate, if you ask me."

Morpheus mutters something under his breath that Hob can't understand but doesn't sound particularly complimentary, but for once in his eternal-ageless-stubborn-bastard life, decides not to press the point. He's already been horribly traumatized by enduring the New Year's Eve party and being forced to socialize with Hob's friends from around London and the South East and colleagues from Goldsmiths and all the other strays he's picked up over the years (indeed, very much like Dream himself). All right, socialize might be a stretch. More like lurking ominously with a single glass of prosecco and giving the other guests a fright when they come round the corner too fast, but at least he hasn't run screaming into the night or huffily evaporated into the Dreaming never to return, so Hob is going to optimistically count that as a success. Besides, it is tacitly agreed between the two of them that Hob's love language is cheerily bullying Morpheus into taking part in normal human courtship activities and Morpheus's concession is to act like this is the worst thing to ever happen to him in literally eighty billion years, but still grudgingly put up with it. Baby steps, Hob thinks, taking a swig of his own bubbly and looking back at the television. Baby steps.

It's already the New Year in Oz and the rest of Down Under, and five hours off yet in New York, where they're still greasing up the ball drop in Times Square, but it's just about time in London, the fireworks over the Thames are all set to go, and Hob and the ten other people in his flat (hardly an excessive number, not that you'd know it from Morpheus's face) lean forward in eagerness. The bloke on the BBC leads a countdown, it rolls over to 00:00:01 GMT, 1 January 2024, and everyone lets out a boozy cheer, raising glasses to salute each other and making more please-God-help-us jokes about the Tories. Hob, meanwhile, turns to Morpheus, who gazes expectantly back at him with those luminous, star-flecked eyes, and leans in to kiss him -- quickly, chastely, nothing to make the silly goose come over in his melodramatic conniptions all over again. "Happy new year, darling."

Dream huffs, but he does look slightly pleased. (It's a subtle art, reading his expressions, and to the untutored looks no different from "mildly constipated," but Hob still knows his Stranger well.) "Happy new year, Hob Gadling," he allows, after a long moment. "I still do not understand why you feel it necessary to celebrate all this. Have you not seen so many that it is no longer special?"

"See, that's exactly why." Hob should get up and refill the pigs-in-blankets tray, as there is evidently nothing that British academics love more and it has been descended on like starving vultures, but he doesn't feel like it, not yet. He grins at Morpheus instead, lowering his voice, not that there's much risk of anyone overhearing. "A bloke born all the way back in God's Year 1356, and I'm still here, ringing in the fucking year 2024? That's a bloody miracle, you ask me. And with you, no less? What else would I want in the whole world?"

Dream's expression melts a little, despite himself. A faint pink flush climbs into his elegant ice-sculpted cheeks, and he huffs. "You are quite the flatterer, Robert Gadling."

"Eh." Hob takes a more comfortable position, settles deeper into the couch cushions, and feels, with great vindication, Dream's head tip and lean and rest on his shoulder, snuggling closer entirely of his own volition. "You love it."

[moon-mage]

TWST Art Requests OPEN

I haven't opened art requests in forever and I'm feeling pretty optimistic so here goes! :D

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

My Guidelines:

* TWST characters only because they're rotting my brain * All art will be traditional sketches in the examples I post under the cut. * Open to most ideas, scenarios, etc. I'm cool with mildly spicy, some blood, angst, goofy, fluff. * I will be upfront if I'm not comfortable with doing something. * No OCs for now, wanna focus on getting a grasp on drawing the canon characters * I'll absolutely draw ships because nyehehe ya girl loves romance and gooey fluffy stuff nehehehe. I will happily draw polyships because the more love to share the better! * I have the right to decline any request for any reason. * I might not get to do everyone but i'll try. * I'd say a character limit would be like 3 characters? Unless you have a damn good idea/concept. Like I dunno...Sailor Senshi Diasomnia? * Oh no, that actually sounds fun. * Long ass list of ships I like under the cut, but feel free to suggest anything you don't see. The worst I can say is no. * Please send requests in my inbox :3

Some ships I enjoy in no particular order because I cry about them all because I am a hopeless romantic mess: Idia/Malleus Leona/Vil Rook/Vil Leona/Vil/Jamil AKA FOREVER NUMBER 2 SQUAD Jamil/Vil Jamil/Leona Jamil/Azul Riddle/Azul Floyd/Riddle Epel/Riddle Jade/Trey Jade/Azul Kalim/Silver Idia/Vil Idia/Leona Idia/Azul I mean THERE'S WAY MORE but these are the ships I actively seek content for now a days so ya.

Here’s some examples now

[transingthoseformers]

Dot is torn between momma bear rage mode and shocked aproval because "My kids got Stranger Danger from a moderately to heavily injured 'maybe not a Decepticon anymore' after he escorted them to Bumblebee once he varified with them that Bumblebee was actually one of their designated adults."

Optimist Optimus Prime, sensing a potential redemption arc, is enthusiastic about helping another mech with their personal journy. Even Damus. Perhaps especially Damus, whom he feels he failed. After all Megatron rubed quite a bit of salt in to that particular wound. Megatron looks mildly panicked at how excited OP is at the prospect. Honestly most of the bots do just not for Megatron's specific reason.

Tarantulas when Damus of Tarn just slumps over and tells him there is no more List. There is no more DJD. "PRAISE PRIMUS! Wait, then why are you here?" And he gets trauma dumped on. A lot. He's legit patching up the tank and building him a solar energon convertor so He'll go away. When Damus tenively asked for not just his OG Paint colors restored but the code patch to cure his Transformation addiction Tara reckoned the mech is suicidal and therefore a terible liability to share a hideout with. Gets him out the door with seguestions on the processor benifits of meditation

Meanwhile Starscream just found the wreckage of the Peaceful Tyrany and is fliping out because the DJD is here on planet. He has no way to know Tarn is the only member of the team alive and has basicaly given up the concept. Not to mention is quietly having a personal crisis thanks to Megatron's brutal truth telling.

It's a race to see who reaches him first in his crisis of faith. Optimus, Soundwave or human forces folowing the news of a brightly colored tank rolling/strolling along.

As she should be, oh Dot

Makes sense tfe Optimus would jump at this idea, like. Yeah.

Love the idea that while Tarantulas isn't a medic he's good enough for Damus

Tarantulas:

Tarantulas: (fuck this shittttt)

Tarantulas: yeah that does not sound ideal

Wreckage? Did we kill of the DJD with a starshipwreck? Or something else?

Of course Starscream would be who finds The Peaceful Tyranny, which I'm expecting is all fucked up?

This makes me wonder what happened, exactly, that lead to this version of Tarn arriving on earth? What lead him here?

[james-stark-the-writer]

alright, now that i've finally done the homework of the 4 90s-Batman movies, let's actually pick back up with the DCEU watch and get seated for Andy Muschietti's The Flash.

what i know about this is that it brings back Michael Keaton, that Christina Hodson wrote it (which is the only reason i'm even mildly excited to see this movie, because she also wrote the best DC movie which has a practically perfect screenplay), that there was some bullshit face transplant of dead people — i think one of them was Christopher Reeves, i am not watching those Superman movies for this (haven't seen any of them, might watch them after i'm done with the DCEU), i don't even have access to them, i'm not doing that shit for a cameo anyway, and fuck DC for that, obviously, but i'm going to try to give the movie the best shot i can.

i've heard mixed things about this one as well, i know a few people who really liked it, and a lot of people who really fucking hated it, it's been called every fucking insult i can think of, so i'm not optimistic but Christina Hodson wrote it so it can't be terribly written at least. it may look like shit (from the two clips i've seen: microwave baby, and the shot of Flash and Supergirl zooming into frame, oh that's another thing i know, new Supergirl is in this) but at least hopefully it's well written. and he cannot have fucked up Christina's script that bad.

i'm just hoping that if this is bad, it's at least fun. and that it's not soul-crushing like The Rise of Shitwalker. i know the people at Disney are fucked up, i also know the people at WB are even more depraved somehow, if their track record in these last 4 years haven't shown you that already, but i hope this is as free from their shitty tendencies as possible. i can't do another TROS.

also, have to do the disclaimer: fuck Ezra Miller, i hope their victims get the justice they deserve. don't fucking misgender Ezra, they won't fucking care because they are a celebrity, other non-binary people like myself will. if you say you're an ally and your allyship is conditional, you are just a fucking bigot too <3

for the purposes of this watch we're gonna try to pretend Ezra aren't who they are, bc otherwise i'm gonna be here all night and it's already almost 1 am and this movie is 2 and a half hours long.

ANYWAY, let's get into the fucking movie already.