#I'm not complaining about the angle but I am wondering about it

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Wandee Goodday Episode 4

I love this episode.

We learn more about Yak's past (and I didn't expect to be hit as soon as the episode started. But the way Dee comforted Yak during sleep reminded me so much of AkkAye in The Eclipse, so I'm not complaining). However, it does explain Yak's determination to graduate from university (and also shaped how Yak live his life. And I'm not sure whether other viewers noticed this, but I thought Yak has some innocence with the way he view relationship/life, which is such a juxtaposition with his more physical/aggressive job as a boxer)

I really like the progression of Yak and Dee's relationship. These 2 started of with such a good friendship and as they learn more about each other, their bond continues to go stronger. And it is interesting that these 2 are insisting they like other people when their friends and family saw how much gone they are for each other (even Taemrak, who Yak supposedly has a crush clocked on Dee wearing Yak's necklace!). Also, I will agree with Dr Kao (who is my pick for MVP this episode) that these 2 has gone beyond fake boyfriend.

Speaking of which, I absolutely adore Dr Kao. He = us (viewers) when he voiced out his thoughts to Dee. And the way he bluntly schooled Dr Ter when the latter can't keep his nose out of Dee's business (and his relationship with Yak) is amazing to watch!

Dr Ter continues to be jerk. And I may be reading this wrongly, but does it seems he is leading Dr Khawn? And he is perhaps in the closet himself? Anyway, it will be interesting to see what his angle may be - is he truly feeling jealous of YakDee relationship? Or feeling the sense of loss because Dee no longer worships him and he misses having someone boosting his ego?

On a plus side, I enjoy all the scenes involving YeiCher. It's clear they are super supportive for Yai and their family unit (it is a small unit but strong and full of love). More of them please!!!!

To close an almost perfect episode, the show top it off with a PSA regarding vaccination and safe sex practice (for that, this episode gets ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ rating from me!)

Bring on Episode 5! - I am hoping it will be about Dee's past (we got a hint of it previously and this episode focuses more on Yei and Yak's mom! But I am wondering what happened with the dad?)

[sachermorte]

hi roland

i noticed you use a forearm crutch and i wanted to ask for some advice, if that’s okay with you

i just got my very first forearm crutch (and mobility aid in general) today and um. it’s very scary to use it in public :’)) i just wanted to ask if you have any advice on how to give less of a fuck about people staring and judging, and how to feel more confident with using it in public

thank you :’)))

Servus, Anon, you caught me just coming back from the gym. I'm happy to talk about this before I go jump in the shower and pretend I don't exist for twenty minutes.

I've been using some flavor of mobility aid since I was around eighteen years old, so let's just round it up and call it a full decade. I started with a cane, had to upgrade to two forearm crutches three years in, and knocked myself back down to just one crutch around three or four years ago. I've been carrying around a giant metal pole for so long I don't really remember what it felt like to go without it, so I suppose I really am the best person to ask.

This is long. Table of contents provided here, cut to follow.

On Judgment

On Theater

On Discrimination

1. On Judgment

The first point I want to impress upon you is that people really, earnestly, don't give nearly as much of a fuck about you as you think they do. People are inherently self-centered. This isn't the same thing as selfish, mind you. People can be good and generous and kind while still being fundamentally self-centered. That's the price of admission for being an individual. People live in their own bodies and deal with their own problems and primarily concern themselves with their own affairs. They might look at you, but that's because the way that the human brain works is that it wants to take in new pieces of information. A young person with a mobility aid is "unusual", so they're just filing it away in their endless filing cabinet of Things That Exist On Planet Earth. It's no huge drama.

To continue on a slightly different angle, the therapist-esque "no one's judging you I promise!!! do YOU go out on the street and judge people on what they look like?" never worked on me because yes, actually, I do. I think people are out here dressed tragically and with bad haircuts and with the most hideous shoes I've ever seen, and I think it very often. But here's the thing: I see someone, I judge wholeheartedly, and then immediately move on. Any given person occupies less than two full seconds in my consciousness before I go back to what I was doing and forget about them literally forever. This is how random, shitty, petty judgments happen. These people are irrelevant to your life and your story. You will almost certainly never speak to them on the subject*. If people think about you at all, it won't even be unkind. It'll be "Oh, I wonder what's going on there. Anyway." I promise. Kerry Weaver used a forearm crutch on nine seasons of ER before it was explained, and people dealt with it just fine.

I suppose I'm lucky in that I live in Vienna. You would be hard-pressed in Vienna to get anyone to give a shit about you and what you're doing if you were shot in the street. I consider this one of the best things about the city. I've known people who only very delicately broached the subject of my crutch after knowing me for over two years. And it was when I was already complaining about my hip joint. "Ah, that's why you have the crutch, I suppose." "How very right you are." "Anyway, you were saying?" I've had multiple people mention that they forget I even have it. It just melds into their map of what Roland looks like. Doesn't even warrant thinking about. The one time I had a stranger ask me about it was three years ago, and it was a little kid. I told him it was because I never ate my vegetables. I laughed. His dad laughed. Everyone moved on. Aside from that, it only comes up if someone asks me if I might like to take their seat on public transportation (I might, indeed), or someone offering to let me use the staff elevator or waving me through a priority queue. Nobody cares.

*If you live in America, the last paragraph is unfortunately not applicable. I've experienced the height of rudeness in America. People grabbing me to ask me questions, people literally laying hands on me to pray without permission. I once had someone pull out one of my earbuds to ask me what was wrong with me. You are allowed to shout at these people. The best way to get rid of them is to make an absolute scene. I wholeheartedly advocate for tactically losing your shit. Also, your crutch was practically formulated in a lab to be good at hitting people. Consider thoroughly.

2. On Theater

Even taking all of this into account, though, having a mobility aid is new for you, and new things are frequently scary. This brings me to my very favorite tactic for navigating the world: delusion. When I have to do something I'm not used to doing, or go somewhere I'm unaccustomed to, my first thought is always "what character am I playing while I'm there?" I recently started going to the gym and always dress as Favoriten-chic as I can get with my present wardrobe. When I have to file an important piece of paperwork, I dress very respectably in gray and black. When I was at my job in the garderobe last year around a bunch of ÖVP-Wähler, I dressed mostly in vintage menswear.

What kind of characters exist in the greater public consciousness that often use canes or staves? Aristocracy is and always has been my mask of choice. You, however, might choose a swashbuckler. A Tolkien-esque wizard or someone living in The Shire. A knight. A monk. An outdoorsman. Partaker of organized crime. Jay Gatsby roaring 20s billionaire. Whatever you choose is going to be your cover until you feel like your crutch is an extension of your body and you don't need the pretense anymore. You're cosplaying. It might take a few months. A few years. You might decide you like your persona so much you never take it off. That's also fine.

Again, I live in Vienna, and people stare at you here. It's just a thing. It's culturally accepted. Half the time we're not even staring at you. We're staring through you. Einfach nur ins Narrenkastl schaun. But because I dress the way I do and move the way I do through the world, if people are staring at me, the last reason I'm going to even think about is the crutch. It's usually the outfit.

Also, that point earlier about people being fundamentally self-centered? I'm so absurdly self-absorbed it's a miracle I can even see where I'm going. I've had friends, multiple times, go "those people were STARING at you" and I honest to God did not even notice. Not even a little bit. When I have company I'm too wrapped up in saying outrageous shit. When I'm alone I always have headphones in. My leitmotiv is inescapable. Which really only helps to reinforce the vibe I'm pushing out all the time.

3. On Discrimination

If you wanted me to write that no one would treat you any differently, I'm sorry to say that that's not the case. Don't get me wrong, there are many benefits, both physical and social. Your pain will go down significantly, that's for sure. You'll be able to walk faster. You'll be able to be out longer, and experience more things. I personally get to use Cripple Privilege to get out of anything I don't want to do. I almost always get a seat on public transportation, even during rush hour. I can press-gang friends into carting shit around for me. Just yesterday I had help carting two vintage hardwood and leather dining chairs from the third to the tenth. I did not carry either of the chairs. I just trotted along and chattered everyone's ear off.

But people do tend to make assumptions about what you are and aren't capable of. The extreme praise when I started going to the gym didn't really sit right with me, and I'm not going to bother saying anything about it because what's the point? In the minds of other people, they're being supportive, not condescending. Your dating pool will shrink significantly, because again, people make assumptions about what you are and aren't capable of, and often just don't want to date a disabled person. If your partner is okay with it, their family likely won't be. My ex's family said some HORRIBLE things to and about me about how I was "dragging him down" and "forcing him to take care of me". He didn't defend me. This was the least of many, many problems with that entire relationship, but I still found it incredibly unpleasant. My issues in my love life aren't solely due to my condition, so don't fall into despair prematurely, but I can't pretend that it isn't a contributing factor.

After that relationship ended, I wound up cutting out most of our former mutual friends, not only because of their lack of support, but due to them constantly posting those pastel uwu "you're so valid!!!" positivity and (mis)information posts surrounding disabilities, which felt incredibly infantilizing and condescending. Again, I'm sure they would insist they were being supportive. If I ever see another one of those posts again it'll be too soon.

In any case. You will live a long, meaningful, fruitful life. And the crutch will be a part of you. For now. For a while. Maybe forever. That's okay. That's fine. Maybe in ten years you'll be just as jaded and nonchalant about the whole business like I am now. That doesn't make your apprehension about the situation any less real. But I'm telling you now that the life you want always lies on the other side of a massive pain in the ass.

You'll muddle through somehow, with alternating bouts of clumsiness and grace. We all do, after all.

[dayseternal-blog]

Fanfic you ve been reading recently? Love your tastes btw!

:) You sent this months ago, but here are the fics that I've been reading recently, like this August/September:

"The Mission" by Lunawrayth - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. It wasn't that Hinata never expected to work with Naruto, just never on a mission quite like this.

-I check this one for updates so often. at least once a week, but more like multiple times a week.

"thus a silenced memory" by @keroppri - Rated T, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Eight years flown on by and Naruto makes his return to the city where he once fell in love, only for him to leave hollow and broken after she was persuaded to leave him. Plagued by her memory at every corner, a chance meeting changes fates, minds, and hearts. Thus he tries to silence the memories. Inspired and based on Jane Austen's Persuasion.

-ahhh loving the yearning angst of unrequited love (but it's actually requited) in this fic.

"Amaranthine" by @opttagoyeo - Rated T, Various AU, Series of unrelated one-shots. A few drabbles/ideas ranging from fluff, confusing, humor, and angst regarding the most iconic and popular canon couple of Konohagakure, Naruhina.

-just started reading this! Full of cuteness.

"After Office Hours" by Pandora_Imperatrix - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto is lonely after Sakura and Sasuke left the village to travel together, he keeps leaving the office later and later, things start to change after one night when his secretary Hinata and him share a couple of vending machine beers. In this AU Naruto becomes Hokage a lot earlier than in the manga and The Last never happened.

-It's been years since this was updated, and recently Pandora updated and just finished it!!!!!!

"Friends with benefits" by @pastillesch - Rated T, Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. "I'm dumping you" --Naruto blinked once. Twice. "But we're not even together". It was more a stress relief than anything romantic, really. A hobby one would say. And now it was time to search for a new hobby. Or at least a new partner for this kind of hobby.

-Another one that I was super excited to see updated again!!!!

"Casual Touches" by Lunawrayth - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. It's the casual touches that do it.

-Since I'm really feeling Luna's style, I checked out this story, too, and it's super cute. Love it.

"Fairy Tale" from "NaruHina Erotica Oneshots" by @makuro767 - Rated E, Fantasy AU, Two-shot. Naruto moved to an old family home to start anew and found an unlikely existence in his backyard...

-I am a total sucker for this type of size difference au. Like, it's just such a weird trope. It's just so weird. I love it. Makuro767 does a wonderful job with it!

"Love Is Not A Cage" by @nightowl27-writer - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. When Naruto comes back to his senses after the battle with Pein, the first thing he remembers are those baffling words she said just before she nearly died for him, and he NEEDS to hear them again. Will the truth set them free? Or are some confessions too much for the soul?

-that recent update killed me. In a good way. but oh man.

"Hinata (Mirror, Mirror)" from "Chicken Ramen for the Pervert's Soul" by @wickermayne - Rated E, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto rolled his eyes at the purchase asking why she needed it and complained about how much room it took up, but Hinata enjoyed modeling different dresses in front of it, loved how it let her see all the many different angles. And that seemed to keep Naruto quiet enough about the mirror.

-🙊🙈🔥

So, I guess it's been months since I worked on this list. Because it's nearing the end of March 2024 now. And up at the top, apparently I was last working on this list in September 2023. And at that time, it had been "months" since the asker sent this. Well, here's the ones I've been reading recently:

"clash of possession - naruhina" by @powerful-niya - Rated E, Yakuza AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. In the heart of the yakuza underworld of Tokyo, the passing of Hiashi, the leader of the Hyūga clan, does more than just break Hinata's heart, but it exposes her to vulnerability. Seizing the opportunity, the ruthless Naruto, Uzumaki clan leader, targets not only the conquest of the Hyūga clan but also wishes to claim Hinata as his most prized possession, no matter the cost.

-It's been awhile since I read an irredeemable Naruto, and Niya's not lying when she calls the characterization ruthless!!

"Prey" by @sessakag - Rated E, Modern/Gangs AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Following a midnight chance encounter with Hinata Hyuuga, a smitten sociopath, Naruto Uzumaki, tries his hand at romance, determined to make her fall in love with him the only way he knows how.

-it's the mystery of Hinata's background that really fuels this piece for me. Icing on the cake is Naruto as a wonderfully sexy and dangerous stranger and the sexual tension between them that is absolutely exquisite.

"Paper Rings" by Its_Levioooosaa - Rated E, College/Soulmates AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. In a world where soulmates are found after a touch and after a brief moment of pain, resulting in a red loop circling the first knuckle of each person's pinky finger. Fating the two people together and leaving it up to them to decide what their relationship will be. Hinata had just stopped at her friends for a piece of pizza, little did she know that she'd be leaving with a soulmate.

-It's a cute premise and I can't wait to see what happens next! I love a good soulmate AU!

"Wanting More Than A Poolside View" by @bunny-hoodlum - Rated E, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Just a Sukumizu fetish scenario where Hinata is the target of a panty thief and recruits Naruto to investigate himself.

-I've been loving all of Bunny's updates this year, but I'm really hoping for an update on this one....or Narutoland haha, but I dunno what it is about High School NaruHina and their immaturity, it's just so fun!

Kay, that's all. If I don't post this now, I never will lol.

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Head Full of Ghosts: Chapter 3

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 and explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge, as well as the friendships and relationships she has with her companions. Plus, everyone gives shit to Gale about his cooking. Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Pining, Humor, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Developing Romance, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature (Will eventually be Explicit, just not there yet.) Current Chapter Count: 3/? Read on AO3 Current Word Count: 13,050

Author Notes: I'm finishing up the fourth chapter and realized I never uploaded this chapter to Tumblr. So here we are! Getting this fic back on track and should have the next chapter up soon.

Chapter 3: Monsters

“You know she is a hag, yes?” Lae’zel’s severe and even voice cut through the sticky swamp air like a hot knife through a wedge of Durinbold cheese. 

The bog was a foul place, both in atmosphere and in smell. The air was thick with humidity and an ever-present smell of wet rot. Trees sagged and bent at jagged angles, their tired limbs wilting in the gloom, and a thin fog seemed to permeate every corner of the swamp. A hazy light filtered through the tree canopy, casting blotchy shadows upon the muddy ground. 

The path the four companions were following sank into marsh every several yards, forcing the group to pick their way through mire and muck. The slog was slow, and there was much complaining. Especially from one particular high elf who no one had told not to wear freshly polished leather boots. 

“I am like…seventy percent sure she is a hag, yeah,” Eli answered as she carefully stepped over a rotted tree limb, half submerged in murky filth. “I mean, she’s entirely too eccentric to just be a normal human, right?” 

She looked over to Astarion for support, who was currently trying to rub some manner of sludge off his doublet.

“She certainly isn’t playing Three-Dragon Ante with a full deck, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Astarion replied coolly before throwing up his hands and huffing in irritation, the stain unyielding.

Lae’zel hummed for a moment, considering. “Gale is eccentric and a normal human, is he not?” she questioned, amber eyes fixing on their resident wizard who, at the moment, was trying to free the hem of his robe from the clawing grasp of a gnarled tree root.   

Eli sighed. “Gale has a magic bomb capable of leveling entire cities in his chest. I would not call that normal.”

“You wound me, Eli.” Gale responded in a good-natured tone as he tugged his robe free and the group began moving once more.

“You consumed an enchanted bracer yesterday at breakfast,” Eli quipped, recalling the morning fondly. Karlach had been fascinated, quickly trying to get Gale to absorb several other items from their camp hoard and asking him if he “took on their powers,” as she put it. 

Eli chuckled at the memory before concluding, “You’re as deranged as the rest of us and it’s not up for debate.”

Their little group really had become a hodgepodge of oddities over the past few days. Karlach was settling in well, because where else would she fit other than with their traveling sideshow which included a vampire who could walk in the sun, a warlock who was recently transformed into a part-devil by his patron, an amnesiac with the compulsion to murder anything that looked at her crossly, and all the rest of them. 

Eli was starting to wonder if she had a penchant for picking up emotionally constipated strays. They were all kind of outcasts in some way or another. People just trying to get along in a world that had kicked them in the teeth and tossed them out with the garbage. She still had no idea why they’d all just sort of accepted her as their group’s figurehead, but she was beginning to feel a certain affinity for their gang of misfits. They were all fighting battles both within and without, and Eli couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship with people who were struggling with their own personal demons, just as she was.

At least as the day wore on her constant headache had faded to a dull throb, rather than the brain splitting white-hot pain she’d been experiencing. Her memories were still lost, and whenever she tried to call upon them she was only met with flashes of red violence. Images of mangled bodies, ruptured limbs, stringy viscera…it all melted and jumbled together in a confusing blur of chaos. Her dreams were no better, and her nighttime raids on the camp’s supply of books and wine were no secret among the party. Both Shadowheart and Karlach had even joined her on separate occasions. Hells, she’d have a proper book club up and running soon.

“So,” Lae’zel’s stern voice brought Eli out of her musings. “You trust this hag?”

“No,” Eli nearly spat the word out in a laugh. Auntie Ethel, as she called herself, was a lot of things, and trustworthy was not one of them. Astarion’s assessment of Ethel as ‘positively demented’ was accurate, and hags were not known as an honest sort.

“Good,” said Lae’zel, slightly drawing out the word in approval. “Lest I remind you that the only way to remove a ghaik tadpole is a Zaith'isk.”

Eli could feel the gith’s eyes on her and she did her best not to bristle under what she was sure was a judgmental stare. “I am aware,” Eli said, trying to sound unfazed and relatively certain she was failing miserably.

Lae’zel continued to press. “And a Zaith'isk can only be found at a gith creche.” She laid emphasis on the last two words, as if she were pointing something obvious out to a very dimwitted child.

Eli felt the back of her neck and ears start to go warm as irritation stirred in her chest and tightened her shoulders. The throbbing headache at the back of her skull began to growl. 

“You don’t say…” Eli replied, quietly pleading to whatever deity she couldn’t remember worshipping to please just let her have the rest of the day without feeling like her brain was on fire. 

“I just did say.” Lae’zel shot back, drawing a sidelong glare from Eli.

Eli liked Lae’zel. For the most part. When she wasn’t threatening tiefling refugees or complaining about the lack of spice in Gale’s cooking. Though, to her credit, Gale’s food was kind of bland. 

The gith fighter was blunt, stubborn, opinionated, fierce and one hell of a talent when it came to steel and blade. Eli appreciated Lae’zel’s steadfast loyalty and belief in her people’s culture, and even felt a slight pang of jealousy for it. It grounded the warrior and gave her a perspective from which to view the world, something Eli did not have. Culture, family, heritage…they were the building blocks of a person. Even if a person rejected or outgrew those foundational aspects of themselves, they still provided guiderails – or at the very least an anchor for one’s identity. 

Without those things, Eli felt adrift and directionless in a vast and swirling ocean, constantly beaten upon the rocks before being dragged back down to drown.  

“Explain to me why we are seeking this hag who you do not trust and who cannot remove the tadpole,” Lae’zel said, driving at a point Eli knew was coming and one she wasn’t sure she had a decent argument against. “Instead, should we not be pursuing a more productive course of action?”

Eli sighed, rubbing at her temples as her headache began to mount. “I’m curious,” she responded rather lamely. 

“I see,” Lae’zel said with a tone that indicated the gith was wholly unimpressed by Eli’s reasoning. “So, the situation at Emerald Grove continues to escalate, goblins continue to terrorize the Sword Coast, the druid healer remains missing, and the tadpoles in our brains remain unremoved.” Eli internally cringed at the chiding way in which Lae’zel spoke. “But, let us humor your curiosity. What is the worst that could happen?”

The question hung in the air uneasily. The worst that could happen was…really fucking bad. Everyone could die. Eli and her merry band of misfits could all turn into mind flayers. The Grove could fall under the absolute rule of a tyrant and racist. And the Sword Coast could get fully and aggressively fucked. Why was this all her problem, again?

“Lae’zel, was that sarcasm I just heard?” Astarion chimed in, and Eli felt a pull of appreciation towards him. He probably hadn’t meant to run interference between Eli and her interrogator, but she was thankful for it all the same. 

Truth be told, there was a small part of her that hoped Auntie Ethel did have a solution for their tadpole troubles. While they weren’t the most honorable of sorts, hags were rather enterprising and shrewd. And given the nature of their unconventional problem, an unconventional solution would more than likely be required. Besides, if things went south, they could just kill her. That seemed to be a particular specialty of their group. 

“Sarcasm often accompanies truth,” Lae’zel said with a pointed tone. 

Astarion chuckled lightly and Eli felt something not unlike faint affection flutter in her chest. She very quickly shoved it down into the black hole within herself where all the things she didn’t want to deal with went. Nope. That wasn’t good. That was the very last thing she needed right now. 

It had been happening more and more since the night she’d made a complete fool of herself, drunkenly asking him if they were still friends. Still friends. Gods, she was such a loser, and Astarion surely thought she was a total basket case after that encounter. But, every now and then, he’d give her a smirk or say something that caused a laugh to bubble up, and then that weird and endearing feeling would creep up and holy shit was this not the time or the place! Besides, that man had more red flags than a circus, and it wasn’t like Eli was a bastion of sanity, so together they’d be about as functional as wet hot garbage. 

“How profound,” Astarion continued, oblivious to Eli’s distressing mental spiral. “This little jaunt in the swamp does seem to be a rather unhygienic deviation from more pressing concerns.” 

The appreciation she’d felt for him earlier poofed away, and Eli glared. “I will turn this whole party around if you all don’t stop your complaining!”

Astarion’s eyes lit up with delight. “Oh, please do! I worry the putrid scent of squalor and anguish is never coming out of my clothes.” He ran his hands down his doublet, trying to smooth out some wrinkles, and sighed in an overdramatic fashion.

“I, for one, am looking forward to seeing Ethel again,” Gale chimed in as they continued to trod down the muddy path. All of them would be washing muck off their clothes for days. “Fey and the like often have access to magic that even a wizard of my caliber cannot wield. This deviation - as you put it, Astarion - could prove very advantageous if we play our cards right.”

Eli resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder at Astarion, who had surely just rolled his eyes so hard he could see up into his own skull. She could practically feel the disdain radiating off of him and pointedly kept her eyes ahead, scanning the dreary bogland for any sign that they may be nearing Auntie Ethel’s dwelling.

It took Astarion all but two seconds to quip back at the wizard. “Gale, your opinion is like the filth on my boots. Unwanted and irritating,” he said with all the cheer of a muddy wet cat as he paused to kick some grime off the bottom of one of said boots.

“It is a wonder any of you have survived this long,” Lae’zel said, glowering at Astarion as he continued to preen. 

“We are a rather astonishing group, aren’t we?” Eli asked with a small smirk, glancing back at the gith.

Lae’zel just rolled her eyes.

Eli was glad for the banter, as it provided some distraction from the pulsating headache growing behind her eyes. However, as they rounded a bend in the path where the trail began to climb upwards towards the interior of the bog, snaking away from the swampy shoreline, Eli was struck with a surging agony that flashed white hot throughout her head. She doubled over, the heel of her hand pressing into the ridge of her brow as a hiss escaped from behind her clenched teeth. Her stomach churned angrily, a hunger rising from deep within that neither food nor drink would satiate. Her head felt as if it were shattering into fragments, her conscious self being pulled apart at the seams as something else tried to push its way to the surface. Something feral, and frenzied and starved.

From somewhere behind her, Eli thought she heard Gale muttering a question. She then felt a hand on her shoulder and wanted nothing more in the world than to seize it and dig her nails into the supple flesh. She wanted to smell the crisp metallic tang of blood in the air as her fingers peeled back skin as if she were pulling the rind off a particularly ripe fruit, bloody pulp exposed and raw. The thought of her fingers sliding between muscle and skin, slick with blood, feeling fibrous sinew tear away and hearing the wet squelch and pop as she degloved flesh from limb…   

Fist clenched, her nails dug into the palm of her hand as she fought to keep control. A pleasurable shiver ran down her spine as her mind entertained depraved thoughts, and for a moment she thought she may vomit where she knelt. She was not herself. Her mind was splintering with a hundred craven desires…she wanted to walk across fields of ruptured bodies and feel the viscera turn to jam between her toes. Her muscles tensed and she flinched away from the hand, standing in a near delirious state and muttering some nonsense about “needing a minute” before stumbling off into the fen. 

Eli needed to put distance between herself and her companions. At least for the moment. At least until her head cleared. She slogged through the wetland, unfocused on where she was going, until she felt a dampness seeping through her boots. She stopped and blinked, trying to wrench her consciousness back from the brink. As her sight cleared and the world around her came back into focus, Eli found herself standing ankle-deep in water near a riverbank, looking out over the vast and gloomy expanse of the Chionthar River - the opposite bank obscured by fog. 

Sloshing her way back to shore, Eli stepped back onto somewhat solid ground just as she heard a rustling in the thicket. Her eyes shot up to see Astarion picking through the snarl of brush and weeds that bordered the muddy shoreline. His expression was one of exasperated frustration, brow furrowed and mouth pulled into a grimace, as he tugged a booted foot free of the clinging bramble. 

“Gods below, this entire place needs to be tossed into Avernus,” he grumbled as he plucked a bur off his doublet and flicked it to the ground. Astarion then glanced up at her, crimson eyes guarded, although Eli thought she caught the glimmer of something else in his gaze…a flash of something softer. But it came and went like a spark catching alight then burning out just as quickly. “Are you…alright?” 

His tone was hesitant and uncertain, as if he were unused to the concept of asking after someone else. Astarion had an edge about him that never seemed to dull, as if he were always acting under the assumption that those around him would lash out at any given moment without warning. Eli wasn’t sure why, but she felt as if she recognized that particular brand of uneasiness. It was a tension that came from an impartial distrust of anyone and anything. A response to a life lived in a constant state of conflict, always ready for fight or flight. Something gnawed at the far recesses of her mind, tugging at a memory she couldn’t quite grasp. She understood that feeling, though she did not know why…

“I think I am. Now, at least," Eli said, rubbing at her eyes as her headache growled but remained tempered. Her mind seemed to be clearing and realigning itself to the present, no longer at risk of breaking and letting loose whatever atrocity lay coiled up inside herself. “You didn’t have to follow me out here. I just needed a moment to collect my thoughts.”

Astarion eyed her and raised a brow, disbelief apparent on his face. “My dear, whatever just happened in that pretty head of yours is not nearly as frivolous as you’re trying to make it seem.” 

Eli winced internally. He was right, of course, and it wasn’t as if she had been subtle when she’d walked off aimlessly into the bog after being doubled over and obviously in pain. Hell, given how she must have looked in that moment, he’d probably followed her to make sure she didn’t trod blindly into a sinkpit or end up ensnared by some flesh-eating swamp ficus.

She sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through her silvery hair. “I just don’t want to worry people,” Eli conceded. “We have enough to deal with, without adding my violent mood swings and absconded memory to the mix.” She spread her hands out, as if the gesture could represent the absolute shitstorm they dealt with on a daily basis.

Astarion considered her for a moment, expression thoughtful and impassive, before he shook his head with a small smile. “I believe you were the one who pointed out earlier that everyone in our weird little group is ‘deranged,’ as you put it.” He emphasized her choice of wording with a gesture of his hands, pantomiming plucking the word out of thin air.

The action brought a soft smile to her lips. She enjoyed Astarion’s embellishments and dramatics. The elf had a flare for the extravagant that she found both endearingly silly and strangely alluring…

Nope. No. Stop it. She shoved that twinge of attraction back down into the deep dark hole within and refocused herself. “Yeah, well, one of us needs to at least act somewhat sensible,” Eli quipped with a smirk. “Can’t have Zevlor and his lot figuring out how truly unhinged we all are. We may not get paid,” she said the last bit with more than a little fake indignation. 

Astarion played along, pretending to be scandalized and clutching his nonexistent pearls. “Now that would be a tragedy. I have every intention of hiring a witch at the first opportunity to hex Gale’s cookpot so it will only produce boiled squid,” he said cheerily. “I’m assuming that won’t be cheap.” 

Amused with himself, Astarion tipped his chin up, smirking at Eli with all the wiliness of a fox. For her part, Eli just rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop a grin from spreading on her face as she imagined Gale, flustered and put out, ranting about the juvenile use of magic. 

A thought occurred to her, then. Something unbidden and completely inane, but one she latched onto desperately. It was a joke that had bubbled up from the deep recesses of her broken memory, and though she had no idea where she heard it or in what context, she was delighted at the prospect of finding something among the rubble of her ruined mind. It set the tiniest flicker of hope alight within her that maybe, eventually, she may be able to recover more. 

Eyes bright, and with a reserved sort of hopefulness stirring in her chest, she gave Astarion a genuinely dorky grin and blurted out with all the self-restraint of a toddler; “What do you call a magician who cooks?”

Surprise overtook the elf’s face, and he tilted his head curiously with a small laugh, thrown by the sudden and highly abrupt tangent. Before he could speak, however, a snap sounded in the brush behind the pair. Both Eli and Astarion turned to find a man, tall and well built with slicked back hair the color of burnt coffee. His mouth, framed by a neatly kept goatee, was turned down in a grimace, jaw clenched, and in his hands the man held a very large crossbow - loaded and aimed in their direction. 

“I’d think twice before you get much closer to him, miss,” the stranger warned, eyes darting from Eli to Astarion as if he expected the elf to set upon him any second. “He’s dangerous.”

Eli frowned at the stranger, fingers curling reflexively into the beginning gesture for her Eldritch Blast incantation. “And yet you’re the one with a crossbow pointed at me,” she said warily, watching the man’s fingers for any twitch or movement on the trigger. 

Next to her, she could feel Astarion stiffen defensively, but he remained quiet. Had the stranger not had a crossbow bolt aimed in her direction, Eli would have been more curious who he was and his connection to Astarion. Due to his comments, she assumed he was aware of Astarion’s vampirism, though she couldn’t be certain. Her curiosity, however, would have to simmer in the face of their current predicament. 

“Call it a precaution,” the stranger said before tipping the crossbow in the direction of Astarion. “You know what he is? Vampire spawn.” He said the last bit as if it was supposed to be some revelation, venom laced within his words. 

Eli studied the tip of the crossbow bolt, noting how the sharpened edge glimmered faintly in the hazy light. Silver? She glanced back and caught the man’s eyes with her own, a growing dislike darkening her expression. 

“Old news, my friend,” she said with more than a hint of antagonistic sarcasm. “Known that since I met him.” 

This drew a somewhat startled noise from Astarion, whose gaze she could suddenly feel turn to her. “You did?” he asked with a genuine note of surprise in his voice. 

Astarion had not admitted to being a vampire spawn until the night Eli caught him creeping in on her as she slept, hungry and poised to bite. Up until that point, though, he’d done a rather poor job of concealing his nature. What with the bite scars on his neck and his pale, almost pearlescent, complexion. The fact he could walk in sunlight was an oddity, of course, but given that she’d just flown through Avernus on a mind flayer ship after having an illithid tadpole inserted into her brain, a vampire traipsing about in the sun wasn’t even the weirdest thing she’d seen that day.   

She chanced a quick sidelong glance at Astarion and quirked an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. It was kind of the worst kept secret in Faerûn. Shadowheart and I even had a bet about who you’d try to bite first.” Eli still owed her a bottle of sweetwine, come to think of it.

She shook the thought from her head and turned her attention back to the stranger who still had his crossbow trained on them. “Mind introducing yourself before you start a fight you’ll regret?” she asked, watching his body language for any sign that he may back down now he knew Eli was fully aware of her companion’s condition.

The stranger glared at her, and Eli sighed. Another day, another fight with some ignorant douchecanoe who was wasting the last moments of their life antagonizing her. That darkness inside of her, the thing that craved slaughter and whose language was only violence, shifted restlessly like a dog in a cage, pressing at the barricades with a cruel need. She fought to push it back, but gods she could imagine her hands tearing into his gut, ripping dying organs from the yawning wound, warm and wet. The iron scent of blood in the air. The agony twisting his face as he writhed. It would be beautiful brutality. 

Her headache was mounting once again, and through the throbbing pressure she heard the man say; “You can call me monster hunter.”

He braced his crossbow, targeting Astarion, and Eli was moving faster than coherent thought. She felt a force collide with her left shoulder, nearly knocking her off balance, and then the world melted away into a manic savagery that was both achingly familiar and terrifyingly transcendent. 

Flesh would rend. Bone would snap. And her hunger would be sated. For now. 

The headache faded, and Eli was suddenly aware of a thick and deep pain radiating from her shoulder. Her mind swam dully, like a bobber struggling to stay above water as forces tried to pull it down. She felt…tired. Dazed. 

Why was she on the ground? Was that her blood spattered across her bracers? Why was Astarion yelling?

“Godsdamnit! Why would you do that!” 

Something jostled her, and the pain in her shoulder flared. She groaned and tried to turn her head towards Astarion’s voice only to find she was propped up against him. He was kneeling next to her, a hand braced against her back to keep her seated upright while his other hand pressed into her shoulder. She grimaced, trying to ignore the searing agony rocketing down her left side, but found herself unable to focus. 

She looked up into Astarion’s face, head bobbing to the side, and squinted at him. A range of emotions flitted across his face as he looked down at her. Anger, frustration, exasperation…all common day-to-day expressions for the snarky and uppity elf. But there was something else, too. Something in the clench of his jaw, the tightness of his lips and the way his sharp, clear eyes stayed fixed on her. Concern…

“Do…what?” she asked, confused. 

Eli continued to watch his face, thinking dully about when she’d ever seen him worried and coming up with nothing. Well, she wasn’t in a great state of mind at the moment and kind of just wanted to go to sleep. She was probably just forgetting…

Her mind drifted…eyes closing wearily…

Astarion shook her gingerly and she let out a noise somewhere between a hiss and a growl. “That bolt you idiotically decided to jump in front of was laced with poison! Do. Not. Fall. Asleep.” He pressed at the wound on her shoulder and her eyes wrenched back open, pain flooding her senses and slamming adrenaline into her system.

“Fucking rude!” she yelped. 

Then, the pain was fading and a slow numbness was creeping down from her shoulder. It felt cold and soothing, and she was so tempted to just relax into it and fade away. Her head dropped and came to rest against his chest, eyelids fluttering closed again. 

“I think I just like to annoy you…” she said weakly, then gave a hiccupping sort of laugh. 

Astarion was trying to jostle her out of the daze again, only this time there was no pain and she felt too content to open her eyes as her head rested against him. 

“Eli! Eli! Shit!” He sounded so far away. So far…far…away…

“What do you call a magician who cooks?” Astarion asked, a hint of panic coiling around his words. 

From somewhere very distant, Eli remembered she hadn’t finished telling him her joke. A small laugh caught in her throat as she thought about it…but she really didn’t feel like talking right now. Gods, she wanted to sleep…

Astarion was shaking her again. “What do you call a magician who cooks! Eli!”

Fucking hell, he was loud. 

Eli groaned and tried to lift her head. Too heavy… 

…she needed to finish the joke…

“A…saucerer…” she said lamely, then laughed, head still slumped against his chest. She’d have to tell Gale…

There was some muttering, then a feeling of being lifted. The ground was gone. Her arms sagged. 

“You will not die,” she heard Astarion say from miles away. “You will not die because that was just awful, and it will not be the last thing you ever say."

Eli smiled to herself. She was hilarious…

Everything went dark.

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

Finding joy in bad kits (and also, my Custom Explosher gear)

Custom Explosher, which has what is essentially my least wanted sub/special combo ever for this particular weapon has been in the game for about a month now, and you might be wondering how coping with it.

I'm surviving.

Custom Explosher is a really bad kit, there's no denying that, but I'm playing it anyway, and believe it or not I'm having fun with it. Don't get me wrong, I'd still have preferred almost any other kit than this, but whether I like it or not, this is what I am stuck with, and I'm too dedicated to the main weapon to not play it.

And here's the thing: Nintendo are never going to change a kit once it's in the game. Not just because Nintendo are incredibly stubborn about their decisions (though that is a very particular quirk of their approach to game design, I'm pretty sure most other multiplayer devs would straight up change kits if they were problematic), but because no matter how bad or unsynergistic a kit is, it's someone's favourite.

And just because a kit is bad that doesn't mean it has nothing to teach you about the weapon itself. Every kit is a new possibility space that explores and utilizes the weapon it's built around in new ways, even if that new space is narrow. In the case of Custom Explosher I've been forcing myself to play more aggressively and position closer to the frontline, where I'm more likely to get targeted by short-range weapons that I can bait into my Splashdowns, and while I frequently get shot down while using it (some things never change) I do frequently go trade one-to-one at worse.

And of course, because I am changing my playstyle, I had to change my gear to match!

Adapting to a more aggressive, risky mindset, I've chosen to forgo the usual Ink Saver Main Explosher tends to go for in exchange for Comeback, Quick Respawn, and Stealth Jump, allowing to me get back into the action quicker when I inevitably get splatted in my Splashdown or caught out by an enemy frontliner.

And something cool about all of this is that I can take what I've learned playing Custom Explosher and apply it to my regular Explosher gameplay, too. Thanks to my time playing aggressively I feel more confident staring down frontliners, and having to deal with a more restrictive inktank has made me better at managing my ink when playing with Ink Saver Main too.

Ultimately, it's important to remember that no kit is bad on purpose. Maybe they imagine synergies that don't quite work out, or maybe their image of the weapon and it's role is different from how the community at large uses it, but it's never because they are deliberately trying to make something that's not fun to play.

And look, I get it, it's genuinely upsetting to have your favourite main weapon get a bad kit. I waited a year and a half for a second Explosher kit and got literally the combination I wanted the least, but one way or another, this Custom Explosher is what I'm stuck with. And I can mope and seethe and complain about it until the sun goes down, but what that's gonna do? I might as well take this chance to consider my weapon from a new angle and learn from it.

And I hope that if you're in a similar boat to me then you will too.

[kazimakuwabara]

My Sweater Now

Summary: He didn't want the sweater, until he did. (Aka I'm thinking about old Kuwabara knitting again)

***

“Lift up them arms, shorty.”

For the life of him, Hiei wasn’t sure why he listened to those words, but the next thing he knew, he had his arms lifted above his head, and a sweater being shoved down atop him.

“What the fuck?” Hiei managed, as he helped push the rest of the sweater’s neck over his head. 

He glanced down at an indigo colored sweater that had been forced over his head, and then back to the man who had somehow gotten it on him with a few shitty words.

Kuwabara laughed at Hiei’s expression, calmed, and then laughed again when he dared to crack an eye open.

“Dude, calm down! Your gaze could kill!”

“I wish!” Hiei seethed.

“You do not!” Kuwabara snorted bending to roll down the neck of the sweater. Kuwabara grinned, deep lines digging into the groove of his face as he tried to adjust the sweater around HIei, “Well… It’s a bit big isn’t it?”

“A bit big for what?” Hiei asked looking down at the sweater. It went past his knees.

“As a sweater... for you,” Kuwabara sighed, righting himself, and tilting his head to the side. He frowned as he stared at it.

“...Why the fuck did you make this?” Hiei growled, holding his arms from his body, and staring at the sleeves that were six inches too long on each arm, “And whose measurements did you use?”

“It’s my first sweater, so I took a guess. So sue me,” Kuwabara dismissed, pulling his glasses from his pocket. He slipped them on the brim of his nose, regarded Hiei again, and then burst into a loud laugh again, “Oh no. This is really too much, isn’t it? Well… fuck!”

Kuwabara sat down on his couch, still looking at Hiei with amusement.

“Why is this on me? Why did you make it? Just… Why?” Hiei huffed, twisting as he tried to look at himself in every angle of the new garment.

“I’ve been knitting; it keeps my hands nimble,” Kuwabara answered holding up his index finger. As he continued to list, he held up another finger, “Kurama is constantly complaining how underdressed you are in the winter, and I thought fuck it. Why not?”

Kuwabara caught one of Hiei’s long sleeves, and taking pity on Hiei began to roll it up to his elbow. With affection, he added, “I dunno… I wanted to do something for you, and I thought this would be an easy and nice gesture.”

“...You thought knitting a sweater would be easy?” Hiei snorted. He rolled his eyes but offered out his other sleeve to Kuwabara so he could roll it up too.

“I’m ambitious,” Kuwabara admitted, grinning to himself. “I just wanted you to keep warm.”

“As I constantly must remind you fools, I’m a fire demon!” Hiei sighed. “I can warm myself!”

“You shouldn’t expend your energy all the time!” Kuwabara tutted. “At our age, you should be careful.”

“Kuwabara, you’re fifty-five, and I’m one hundred and eleven. We’re still spry!” Hiei snorted glaring down at the sweater. “This is a fucking dress!”

Kuwabara didn’t answer, but smiled at Hiei softly, his head cocked to his side. He wondered absently if Hiei understood what Kuwabara’s age even meant. Not wanting to drag the mood down, Kuwabara offered, “I could make Yukina one in pink. You can match.”

“Don’t you dare. She’ll wear it and make me wear this!” Hiei huffed.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else. I can give this to someone else, or use it myself. It’s too big anyway,” Kuwabara offered, holding out his hands.

Hiei flitted away from him then, disappearing and then reappearing across the room. Hiei had rolled the sleeves back down and was squatting like an angry frog inside the overabundance of knitted material. With his eyes narrowed he snapped, “No. Fuck you, it’s mine now.”

Kuwabara laughed with disbelief, “You don’t have to pretend to like it-”

“Since when am I that charitable!? It’s warm. …It’s mine!” Hiei tutted.

Kuwabara grinned wider, the smile lines of his face settling in his skin even deeper. Crow’s feet crinkled around his eyes as he grinned at Hiei, and shook his head, “Fine Hiei, it’s yours. But if you want me to take it back, and try to knit you something that’ll fit, I don’t mind-”

“Fuck off. It’s mine.”

Kuwbara laughed as Hiei settled into it.

Hiei couldn’t quite fathom what compelled him to let Kuwabara put it on him, but Hiei damn sure wasn’t going to let Kuwabara take it off him now.

[icehearts]

15 Lines of Dialogue

Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

tagged by: @paintedscales - thank you!! <3 tagging: @sealrock @aethergazing @shroudkeeper @sileniadream

@eyesofnidhogg @abalathia @aethermimic -- apologies if you've already done this, feel free to ignore ;w;

my WIPs are a hot fucking mess right now so I'm grabbing these from past RP scenes with @eyesofnidhogg ♥

NAOHISA.

“Forgive me, I—" He swallowed. Naohisa’s forehead was now on the ground, completing the apologetic gesture. “I’m having unprofessional thoughts.”

[…]

"I find that I understand myself less the longer that I am around you." With one hand, Naohisa plucked two small ceramic cups from the cabinet. With the other hand, he withdrew a glass bottle of rice wine. "Everything from before has started to feel dull. I no longer feel sure of the things that I once wanted."

MIROU.

"From Kugane no less," he repeats in an amused sing-song tone. "You're quite the oddity, aren't you?"

Mirou sets the stick of charcoal on the counter and holds his sketchbook up with both hands, examining it at an angle before turning it over to show her.

"I'm rather fond of oddities."

[…]

“Their excitement doesn’t concern me,” Mirou yawns. He’s a man of singular focus. “But if it must be endured for the chance to observe you further, then so be it.”

He waves down the bartender for a glass of rolanberry juice. “Do you mind?” He glances to Valentine — his drink is apparently going on her tab.

[...]

He jolts upright in his seat, nose wrinkling from the offending smell. Eyelids still heavy with sleep, Mirou frowns at the ink-haired culprit. "That was cruel."

[…]

"No need to resort to violence, Sol. As it so happens, I was finished with it." Yawning, Mirou glances down at the tome that had served as his pillow — Fabled Fauna of the Far East — and slides it over a few ilms. He drapes himself back across the table, resting his head on his arms, and observes his merciless companion. "What are you researching this time?"

[…]

"It very nearly was violence," he complains. "What if I'd fallen and hit my head? You could have killed me." He pauses, stretching his arms out in front of him and squeezing his eyes shut. "And I was having such a nice dream, too."

[…]

"It's gone now." Mirou sighs, burying his face in his now-crossed arms on the table. A moment passes, then he props his head up, peering once again at the dark-haired viera sitting next to him. "I was somewhere warm and sunny, I think." Honey-dark eyes follow his companion's gaze to the illustration on the page. "What've you got there?"

[...]

“Hold a moment.” He grabs Sol by the fabric of his sleeve and digs in his heels, attempting to halt his companion’s march into the city. “Let me savor this.” Though still a bit pale in the face, Mirou’s usually-sleepy countenance has transformed into wide-eyed wonder. He stands still, transfixed by the sights and sounds of the city, even as annoyed passersby push past him.

[…]

"Kugane Castle," he repeats with a faraway voice. "I should like to see it up close before we leave." It does not seem like the type of place Valentine might have frequented, but it's an impressive vista regardless. He closes his eyes, committing the scene to memory.

[innerslumber]

I know this might sound silly but I am feeling really emotional over the messages I've gotten over the Marvel Exhibit posts. I've had people thank me for sharing because they will probably never get a chance to see it. I've had people who has already seen the exhibit but the stuff I saw was new for them and how much they enjoyed it. It's just...been really gratifying.

Because going to this exhibit has been on my To Do list for months. When I finally escaped my abusive spouse with my children, all I could think 24/7 was how do I protect them and how do I get our family stable. And I remember one of my kids' counselor telling me that I need to pick at least one thing for myself. One thing that is just for me because he said I deserved good things too. That I should be free to have an afternoon where I can have fun, without worry and guilt.

And every month, like clockwork, he'd ask me if I had gone to see it. And every time I had an excuse. Oh I was busy meeting my lawyer because I'm about to go to court. Oh I gotta get our new apartment set up. Oh my friends are busy and they can't help watch the kids. There was always something more important because there was so much to do. But the truth was, I was also just so scared. What if my kids got sick while I was gone and I couldn't be at the school right away? What if my car broke down and I got stranded? What if I missed an important call because I was too distracted? Just scared scared scared.

But the exhibit was leaving in April and I knew the clock was ticking. So I finally picked a date when I knew my kids would be looked after, bought a ticket and went.

I remember at the start of the tour, the museum employee said most people spend 30-40 minutes to get through it. I spent almost 3 hours. I read every plaque, stared at the art and costumes from every angle, and even looped back to see things when the crowd had thinned out. Just so I can savor it. Because I felt this panic, like if I don't seize this moment, I'll never be allowed to enjoy something alone again.

But after the tour was over, I went and got lunch and let it sink in. That this wasn't my last chance to enjoy something for myself. That it was okay to enjoy myself. That I was allowed to. I could eat this food that I normally wouldn't have ordered because my spouse would complain about the smell of the food I grew up with. That I could enjoy it without censure or ridicule. I didn't have to rush back and be terrified that I would be late and get screamed at. I could actually pay for this lunch from my own bank account. That I didn't have to sneak around using cash that I had squirreled away so my purchases wouldn't give away my location on the online bank statement. I could just...sit there and watch people walk by in the sun while I sipped my soda and...it was okay. I didn't have to feel guilty that I was alone and enjoying an afternoon doing something "frivolous".

And it just really hit me why I even wanted to go to the Marvel exhibit in the first place. Because luckily I fell into this fandom just when my life was at its darkest. All the wonderful friends, fics, art and crazy posts that helped me get through all the lonely, scary, painful days and nights. Reading Bucky recovery fics after he escaped his torture and brainwashing and telling myself I can do that too. Then feeling stupid that I was projecting so hard on a fictional character but desperately wishing I had a Steve too.

My therapist told me that recovering from trauma is not linear and I'm going to have good days and bad days. And sometimes it will take days before my mind processes things completely. Over a week passed since I went to the exhibit and I found myself crashing. I know it may seem ridiculous but in my mind, I was setting a pin on this outing. A bright shining lodestone in my mental eye. A box that I could tick saying, "Yes. You're finally at a point where you can allow yourself to have this." And now that I was on the other side of it, I felt a bit lost.

But I was scrolling through the pictures I took and I decided to share on the blog. Initially I was just going to send some to friends in DMs but I changed my mind. Editing 90 images and writing up posts at 3 am was probably not a good life choice but fuck it, I never said I was smart lololol.

So I'm really glad that I was able to give something back to the fandom that's given me so much through this difficult time in my life. It's just pictures and my crack commentary but I'm happy that it gave other fans some serotonin. Some days I feel this imposter syndrome where I'm barely holding it together and I am sure I'm not the only one. But it feels so damn good when my friends and I can squeal over our favorite characters and just take unabashed joy in it.

Because for the first time in a long time, my body is my own, my mind is my own and my heart is my own. I can empty my mind of the pain and fill my heart with love.

And where my mind and my heart wants to go, they can. Even to go see some superhero tights.

[thelador-s-mclargehuge]

Episode 5

Before we get to The Mantis Lords, there isn't a lot to go into but I think this is the funniest episode I'd done so far. Editing is still a little jank but I was still in the Early Stages of figuring shit out, and I was writing, getting the game footage, doing voice direction, and editing these videos AND trying to keep on a 'one video every two weeks' timeline Needless to say. Extremely not sustainable and the editing kinda suffered from it. But that said. Ultimately I'm still pretty proud of how it turned out, timing jank or no. But the Mantis Lords themselves I'm reeally proud of. They may be my favorite characters to write, as you can see going forward I just keep putting them in episodes because I really like them. So I assume everyone reading this is, like, familiar with the Mantis Lords from the game. Needless to say I had to give them... uh... any level of character so that they could interact with things. This was around the time that Live Action CW Power Puff Girls Where They're 20 And Upset About It, was making the waves in the Complaining About Cartoons circut.

Y'all remember this.

Just an absolute bad idea from all angles. The Cartoon Grognard Complainers had several years to bitch about the Powerpuff Girls Reboot where bubbles twerks. And with this on the horizon, and the script leaking from it. Everyone was having a field day with it because... ...I mean it was gonna be real bad. I sound like I'm decrying the grognards, but that's because, as a grognard, it's my sworn duty to decry my own actions. The leaked script was charitably not very good. But the studio was thanking it's lucky stars for The Pandemic because they could just say "We're reworking it" and then quietly move it from the shelf to the trash, and no one needs to think about it again.

But being in the middle of this discourse I was thinking to myself Making the PPGs 20 somethings who are struggling to find their way through life is kinda passé. Boring shit. Seen it a million times. A child could come up with that, and has!

So... what if they were in their mid forties and struggling to run a country? Now THAT has some legs!

And that's how we get Rial, Sarose, and Gelnin!

Rial being the buttercup, Sarose being the blossom, and Gelnin being bubbles.

This also let me give each of them a sort of Domain that they oversee. Rial being the tactical and military strategist (With longstanding connections to their neighbors and allies Deepnest) Sarose being essentially the Overseer, the Leader Leader for when a quick decisions needs to get made, and someone to guide the general direction of policy. And Gelnin is in charge of the nitty-gritty of the economics and infrastructure, something she is incredibly passionate about, to the point of boring everyone to tears. (This also let me envision an episode of PPG where the professor buys Blossom a copy of TTD, that she gets bored of relatively quickly, leaving bubbles to give it a try and she becomes completely addicted.)

Thankfully I've found everyone else loves these mantis lords as much as I do. I think they're good characters, and at least the people commenting on my videos seem to agree. And yeah, they are fun as fuck to write. The line from this episode "My beautiful, wonderful sisters, I am moments away from rejoining the battle ON HIS SIDE!" is one of my favorite lines I ever done which is why it's in all of the promotional material. I just think it's really funny.

[chocolatepot]

I was going thru all of the fics of yours that I have bookmarked, and I'd forgotten about this gem: Parched - so, director's commentary?

Oooh, okay!

The thing about this fic is that while the note at the end is true (that it was inspired by wondering about what Mary had told Doug about Stede), it was also something of an experiment for me. See, I'm just not that into Mary! In the flashbacks to their marriage, I tend to think neither of them comes off that well. There's a running joke that everyone in the fandom is on her side when she tries to kill Stede, no matter how much they like him, but I'm not, actually! So I wanted to try to get into her head by writing a fic from her perspective.

Dearest Mary,

I started by quoting Stede's letter to Mary because that felt like the right place to pick up. I was exploring how she grew and changed, so I wanted to start at their divergence.

The sun comes in at an angle on the letter like a knife, highlighting the words “fond regards.”

Something else experimental for me with this fic was that I was attempting to write in a slightly more literary(?) style. I do focus on my prose when I write, I'll sometimes try a sentence multiple ways or put one together so slowly that it's like chipping marble, but that's a refinement of what I instinctively want to express - I don't instinctively tend to write figuratively, or describe things that aren't either a) absolutely necessary or b) fun for me to describe. So: a sharp metaphor to start with.

“Did Dad go out to ride on Arthur? I want to take my new kite out with him today.”

I also don't subscribe to the idea that Stede was a fully absent father, so put in that line to show him as an active presence in the kids' lives.

This all makes me sound super petty but I did indeed set out to write A Good Fic first and foremost! As ever when I'm challenging myself. I just cannot help but write in my interpretation of controversial things.

Louis is young enough that he doesn’t realize how bizarre and fucked up it all is, accepting it as just one of those strange things adults do and going back to his toast; Alma, however, is thinking about it with a furrowed brow.

And part of the reason Alma responds as she does is that she's surprised and upset because it never occurred to her that her father might pick up sticks and disappear. (If I were writing the fic now, I think I'd have dwelt more on the kids' reactions, or lack thereof in Louis's case. At the time, my focus was on how their reactions affected Mary.)

But this time her eye is caught by a different line: You deserve happiness, as do I.

Here, the tone shifts. I am SO anxious about people thinking I'm too nice to Stede on the whole, and was/am particularly so at this point, lol. That being said, assuming Doug wasn't putting an incredibly positive spin on things (possible), Mary was able to say some neutral-to-positive things about Stede. So she must have come around on him, his leaving, and his part in their marriage, when she thought that it was all a closed book. (And then when he came back he just ripped open the scab!)

She can complain about Stede at length, if she feels like it, but to his credit, he’s never seemed to actively dislike her. What he accepts is that she dislikes him.

This whole bit was also me digging in and almost stream-of-consciousness-ing from Mary's perspective about what we saw of Stede in their marriage in the flashbacks. Analyzing. Working my fingers into the dough.

Nobody likes every person they’re thrust into society with, but that’s just how life is! You smile and make small talk and get them to tolerate you, and sometimes you end up making friends – but he just couldn’t seem to do that, like he wasn’t even trying.

I admit that I was also experimenting with the perspective of a neurotypical person not getting why an autistic person can't just be normal.

The next day, Mary puts on a black gown she rarely wears, plus a hat with a veil, and visits the local magistrate.

She successfully got him declared dead, after all!

The second it’s done, Mrs. Higgins pushes off the wall and comes to Mary’s side, putting her hand on her shoulder. “Okay, Melvin,” she says breezily in a husky tone that fits her perfectly. “I’m going to take the Widow Bonnet for a cup of tea.”

Well, I ship them.

“This story about your husband being lost at sea – it’s bullshit, right? Did you take him out?” She puts a hand on Mary’s forearm, and it feels alarmingly sympathetic. “What did he do – did he hit you? Do you need help getting rid of the body?”

I have absolutely no doubt that it went down like this. Evelyn's comfort level with the idea of murdering a husband implies that she's been ready and willing to aid and abet a woman who's had to kill before. (And I think she tends to see situations through this lens even when it doesn't fit as a result.)

“Relax,” Mrs. Higgins orders, and Mary can’t help but comply

👀👀👀

“Your … rifles?” asks Mary, stunned, and Jemima takes them all on a tour of her house to see the armory, which is packed so heavily with guns of all sizes and types that you can’t even make out what sort of wallpaper is behind them. There’s even a cannon, positioned so that it could theoretically fire out a window.

I don't entirely remember my thought process here - a melange of needing to make up more widows to be part of the circle and "what would be funny?" and the image of a 17th-18th century armory. Jemima's maiden name, Courten, came from the History of Barbados wiki page, and her last name came from my fierce third grade teacher. (Jemima? I have no idea.)

“I have a tenant who’s a painter!” says another, turning from a display of guns inlaid with mother-of-pearl. “He’s always looking for students – if you come to mine, I can introduce you.”

Fate!!!

Their first meeting is inauspicious, but not to such an extent that it loops back around into a meet-cute.

This was deliberate. Mary and Stede are such opposites that I wanted her romance with Doug not to be a sudden soulmate thing like Ed/Stede basically are - their meeting isn't the stuff of stories, they don't have an intense, immediate chemistry. It's still love.

His fingers are still hovering over the canvas, moving here and there to point out what he’s taken with, and for a moment Mary can hardly breathe.

This was intentionally a bit erotic on top of the sexiness of Doug caring so much about her art (and also - Doug is the biggest sweetie, he sees the good even in a piece with a lot of problems).

There is just so much emotion in her, and nowhere else for it to go. For a fleeting moment, she thinks of Stede and the times she found him weeping alone.

Tying this all back into one of the main things, which was Mary coming around on Stede to some extent.

Nobody has ever looked at her like that, like she is a delicate and beautiful person to be treasured.

This is picking up on a thread I established in More Nicer, that the flipside of Stede having been forced into a marriage with a woman when he's not attracted to women is that Mary was forced into a marriage where she was never, ever found attractive. Feeling that someone she likes is actually interested in her would be huge.

one night when he stays for dinner and then helps her wash the dishes after the kids have gone to bed.

I am COMMITTED! to interpreting OFMD as depicting their household as a modern marriage with a period veneer. They don't have servants and Stede isn't a powerful 18th century patriarch.

The moon is huge. If she were to paint it this big, nobody would ever believe it.

Mary gets her "you wear fine things well" moment under the impossibly large moon - maybe at the same time as Stede and Ed's! Only hers can be straightforwardly understood as a moment of love by all participants.

That she is, in fact, too harsh and practical to be loved is a possibility that has haunted her for years.

Again, that thread from More Nicer.

But when she looks into his eyes again, he’s still just confused. Then he flushes and looks down. “Sorry,” he says, “I just – it’s hard for me to believe that he could bring himself to leave you.”

He's a keeper.

A very sudden thought hits her like a thunderbolt: Stede was right. Their lives had been monotonous and had needed to be shaken up, changed beyond recognition.

And that's the point that the fic's been leading up to - Mary becoming okay with Stede. I don't think this makes him right about everything, but I do think he had a point there and that part of the reason she got so upset when he suggested that their lives were monotonous was that she knew it on some level.

She still wishes that he had told her he was leaving rather than simply doing it, but what if he had? Would she have raged at him, guilted him into staying so that they would both continue to be unhappy?

Surprising no one, I have A Take about the idea that Stede was objectively wrong on the way he left. Could it have gone well if he'd been more up-front about it? Maybe. Could it have also gone a lot worse? I think so.

Now that she has a tantalizing glimpse of the happiness that may lie in store for her, she can fully close that door – she can end that desperate, stunted life and begin a new one.

And there we are.

anyone who's interested, feel free to ask for another!

[t-dick-sapphic]

I’d be more than happy on my knees for you, I’d have my tongue on your cock as long as you’d like. 😘 I can’t help but imagine how you’d taste. The thought of you thrusting into my mouth mercilessly has me further wishing I was there. 😮‍💨

Ohhhh I love both ideas for how you’d finish. Using the same vibe that I did last night sounds so hot, but can’t say I’d complain at you coming undone with my mouth around your throbbing tdick. Feeling you press hard into me, holding me in place. I’m thinking about how much your cock would twitch if I moaned while you had me there…

I fucking love that you’re obsessed with the thought of me in the desperate state I was in last night. Lick and bite me wherever you desire— it wouldn’t take much for me to cry out. You haven’t listed a single thing that I wouldn’t come undone by. You commanding me to hump your thigh is perfection. God, I’d love to hear that filthy string of praises... I’d only be able to cry and moan in response.

And of course, fuck me for as long as you stand, even after I’m tired and cockdrunk. If you have the energy to keep going? By all means, have your way with me. Fuck me until I pass out. Make me your whore.

I noticed that post about wanting your partner to turn up the controls on that vibrator inside you… I can’t help but wonder if you’ve told her all about these horny messages I’ve sent you? How hard it’s made you. I hope she gets just as much enjoyment from the result of these messages as you are. 😉

(Also I see those tags on your response to my ask, I’m glad you enjoyed it so much that you’ll use it to get off often. I’ll be doing the same with that audio, I still can’t stop thinking about it. On another note hopefully everything I’ve said this far has been alright to say! If I ever cross a line at any given point don’t hesitate to say so.) -🌾

Okay apologies in advance for any typos or incoherent parts i'm really high, but i wanted to respond to this now because i just did something i think you'll enjoy hearing ;)

I read this ask just about an hour ago, when I'd already taken some edibles and was waiting for them to kick in. Went upstairs to shower when I was already getting high and by the time I was rinsing my hair I was fully high --

and suddenly so, so horny, because I remembered this ask as well as the previous image of you shaking in the shower, cum sliding down your inner thighs along with water droplets, fucking yourself with your toys and the memory of my voice. My cock was immediately hard.

my skin also gets extra sensitive when i'm high, so I stroked my chest and nipples; i also like to stroke along the edges of my top surgery scars, for whatever reason that area is as sensitive as where my nipples are

after a minute of stroking my chest and circling one finger under the head of my cock, imagining it was your tongue, i reached for the shower head. i took it off the wall and lowered it and angled it up to hit my tdick; as it hit my hard, sensitive cock in a steady pulse, I imagined you standing in your bathroom with your vibe.

i got so close to cumming there, but pulled the shower head away right before that could happen. i'm not even sure what made me decide to stop, to edge and tantalize myself this evening. but i decided i wanted to reply to your ask before i cum.

so here i am sitting on the couch, cock still throbbing (earlier i stretched my skirt taut over it and i swear i could see the tip pushing against the fabric, god i'd love for you to be here, for me to command you to slide your pants off, to come stand in front of me and turn around; then i'd put my hands on both your hips and guide you down onto my lap, so i could grind up into your ass, so that you can feel my tdick through the fabric of my skirt. --

Anyway let me actually respond to what you said in this ask lol.

fuck, i like knowing that you'd love to know how i taste. that you'd run your tongue up and down the length of my tdick, savoring it.

oh god the idea makes me feel a little desperate; i just realized i'm thrusting lightly upward into the front of my skirt, urgent for any sort of pressure on my cock.

these words in particular: "By all means, have your way with me. Fuck me until I pass out. Make me your whore." have me absolutely writhing with need. my cock gave quite the twitch reading that. Having you command me that, to tell me to make you my whore...it's so fucking hot. you're so fucking hot. i'm thinking back to when i was in the shower a bit ago, and i got to a phase of being high where when my eyes are closed i swear i can actually feel whatever it is i'm imagining; so for a moment there i was convinced you were actually in the shower with me. god my cock hasn't ached this hard in a while.

sorry this is so stream-of-consciousness but i just realized i'm still bucking my hips upwards into my skirt. fuck fuck fuck i can see the tip of my cock raising the fabric with each thrust.

during all of this, my lover is on the other side of the room, seemingly completely absorbed in what she's watching on her phone, utterly oblivious. but let me answer your wondering about whether she saw our messages to each other:

yes. last night i had gotten my lover high with edibles while staying sober myself, and then sent her some messages here on tumblr because whenever she gets high, she gets horny and logs on to see what i've left her. i included links to the first two messages from you, and audio post to you.

she did indeed greatly enjoy reading the filthy things i've said i'd do to you, the comments you've made making it clear how much you want me. how i've taken control of you, getting you to listen to porn in public, to fuck yourself to exhaustion.

once we had started fucking, i kept telling her about our latest messages. i told her about you imagining my fingers thrusting up into you, as i thrust my fingers into her.

after i told her about how i wrote about commanding you to hump my leg, she instructed me to hump her thigh while she took over fingering herself.

oh god, just stood up and i've soaked through the bottom of my skirt, into the couch cushion. that's so embarrassing. i'll have to clean that up tomorrow lmao

i'm going to go to bed now, and fantasize i'm climbing into your bed to make you my whore, to fuck you till you pass out. i'd love knowing you fall asleep tonight imagining that too.

____

(likewise, please let me know if anything i do or say crosses a boundary!

i feel like this response in particular might be extra horny, so tell me if it's too much!)

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

multiverse question, [fics: double-blind, wicked love]: what would DB!Peter, DB!Extremis-Tony, and DB!Post-Extremis-Tony think of WL!Peter and WL!Tony? (I'm curious about the aspects of dadson, identity reveal, and how DB!Peter and WL!Tony are somewhat alike in that they try to "save" their loved one. But I'm very interested in any of your takes!)

Extremis!Tony: That version of me is a coward. Peter needed him, and he let him suffer through that disease because he was upset that Peter wanted him? What a waste.

---

Cured!Tony: Cool, some other version of me found an excuse to fuck his kid, awesome. I have my own problems to deal with, so good luck to them, seems like a great basis for a long-term relationship.

---

Peter: ...I really... messed a lot of things up, huh? Maybe... maybe I'm really not meant to be Spider-man.

[[further analysis is going to be too long for tags only so 🐻URSA INTERLUDE🐻

Extremis!Tony would be extremely interested in the idea of the multiverse and other Peters and Tonys existing out there so it's probably for the best that he is Unaware lmao. He would find the whole Spider-man/identity reveal aspect mildly interesting in that "huh I guess that's a universal constant" way but be VERY INTERESTED in the fact that Peter was actually the one whose feelings turned romantic/sexual in that universe first, and it would make him curious about whether or not his Peter has more potential in that area than he would've assumed, if Tony did go out of his way to plant the idea in Peter's head somehow without scaring him in the process.

The feelings he stated here about Tony were very honest: "ugh, our gorgeous wonderful perfect son adores him and wants to be with him and this guy is COMPLAINING? what an asshole."

Cured!Tony is also being pretty honest in the sense that he is far more preoccupied with scraping his life back together than worrying about alternate universe versions of he and Peter, but it does bum him the fuck out that there's some dadson identity porn mirror universe out there where similar things happened from another angle because it makes him worry there's just something inherently fucked up about him and his relationship with Peter and maybe he's just Not Able to be a good dad after all.

He is not really in an emotional place to want to dig into the moral implications of WL!Peter's actions so he's just defaulting to "self" blame for the situation instead. WL!Tony I'm sorry all your alternate selves just want to victim-blame you you're doing great sweetie

Peter is Upset about it. It makes him sad to see that he hurt his dad so badly and also to see that being Spider-man led to more tragedy in another universe, with a kind of feeling like "oh well maybe me and Dad are just fated to hurt each other and have something fucked up and I specifically am always an incestuous little freak who ruins everything by being Spider-man," sldfjlsdk. He is far too down on himself atm to recognize any kind of parallel between WL!Tony curing WL!Peter of his Hanahaki and himself curing his dad of Extremis.

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Strange how "Emigrate" has saved Rammstein and "Lindemann" seems to have the opposite effect. Some people experience a personal growth, TL is just reverting back to entitled rich teenager. Sad that he's dragging Rammstein down with him. I had wished for a great ending for them and then seeing them do their personal little projects maybe when they are in retirement, but that's all spoiled now thanks to Till.

Although i wouldn't have put it this way, i do get a bit of what you're saying.

Emigrate at least saved Richard being in the band, without it i'm sure he either would have left or they'd kicked him out somewhere in the early 2000's. If that had happened at that time, i do feel that Rammstein would have gotten a new guitarist (maybe even one with the same German background, because the others were in so many local bands before, they must know loads of musicians). But certainly for Richard himself and Richard-being-in-Rammstein it was a saving grace (and i for one am glad it turned out this way).

I feel Till's personal growth is not so much exploring different music but becoming somewhat of a performance artist. I've made the comparison to Marina Abramovic before and i wouldn't be surprised if Till is going for a similar art direction, that in combination with his poetry ofcourse (that is his main medium imo) and music (not as a goal but as a means to achieve the goal). But I am wondering if some of Till's solowork is that good for himself, he imo does miss the 'quality control' that the six-men-democracy' in Rammstein has to tone down his more extreme sides, because as much as they all complain about the democratic proces and how tiresome it is, imo that's what makes Rammstein that extra special, and always adds an extra layer on what they do.

Rammstein never had a good name in the German media, and secretly i had hoped that that would improve with the 30 year anniversary coming up, but i think that is pretty much off the table now. I do hope the band doesn't get disheartened too much, because imo exactly in this case the six-men-democracy will approach this from various angles and could come out stronger.

And besides, for instance Till's new video was shot in 2021, when he definitely was more and more heading off in his own bubble, but i do feel the final Rammstein concerts in 2023, showed Till much more willing to interact with the others and have fun with them again (it probably helped that he didn't just go off on his own with his entourage between shows, i think there was always at least 1 Rammguy travelling with his team as well), so who knows how things could change if they are all willing to make it work 🌺

so i wouldn't give up hope just yet 🌺

[rex-and-regina]

I need to talk about the Coronation.

I cannot believe this finally happened. I am so, so, happy.

The coronation was in the middle of the night where I live, and I didn't stay up to watch it. I woke up freaking out. Did Catherine wear a tiara? Was Camilla's dress pretty? Was the music good? Did everything go well?

When I went downstairs, a recording was playing on the BBC channel. It was close to the end, so I had missed the crowning. But the orchestra was playing, and it was just so... magical. The conductor was so animated and alive. The musicians were so flawless. The sounds were heavenly, and coupled with the acoustics of the abbey, it was so... SPECIAL. I was already entranced, and then the King and Queen appeared, and I was literally blown away. THE ROBES! THE CROWNS! Then, the camera panned to William, Catherine, and Charlotte.

For some reason, I barely noticed the adults at first- my eyes went immediately to Charlotte. She was an ANGEL. So beautiful. I then saw Catherine. I had been literally PRAYING for a tiara. I was so anxious. It was so important to me.

Catherine was not wearing a tiara. To my shock, I felt not one trace of disappointment. I honestly didn't even care! It all suddenly seemed so silly and trivial. Catherine looked great. Not breathtaking- but I'm actually so glad she didn't wear something breathtaking. Because, for this event, she looked absolutely perfect. I hadn't even noticed her at first. And that was OK. She was not the star of the show, and that was how it should have been. She's always gorgeous. She always will be.

William... he looked so fancy... I was so happy. He's rarely seen wearing anything other than a blue suit and tie. He looked a little silly, but in a good way. I've complained about him being boring before, but he's honestly such a good man. He loves and supports his father, and his happiness and pride were evident. He's such a good man. I felt so proud of them both.

From the angle the camera was at, Harry was completely blocked by Anne's hat. Couldn't see his face one bit. Made me laugh. I'm glad he was there, though. No matter what, Charles loves both his sons so much. I am very grateful that Harry showed up for him.

Camilla. I was very worried about her dress. I KNEW it was going to be that shape, even though I was hoping for a ballgown. I kept wishing that she would become more fashionable, more glamorous. I thought her dress was SUCH a big deal and it had to be PERFECT. But then I saw her.

Camilla's dress was not what I would have chosen. But it was literally exactly what I had expected from her. And as soon as she walked out, I was in awe. Camilla was radiant. Glowing. And, standing in that predictable dress, wearing that crown and those robes, smiling, she looked perfect. It was real. She was the Queen. I almost teared up. And I finally realized- if Camilla had worn anything else, it wouldn't have been the same. She wore exactly what I knew she would. It was the kind of thing that would normally make me shake my head, sigh, smile, and say "Oh, Camilla." It was perfect because she wasn't anybody else, she hadn't done anything unexpected. She may be the Queen, but she's also just... Camilla. She'll never change. And I never, ever want her to.

Charles was a wonderful, kingly king. Why did I complain about him not wearing breeches? Honestly, thank God he wasn't in breeches. He looked wonderful. Charles. This was the biggest day of his life. He had a slight smile on his face, but inside, he must have been simply elated. Because everything had gone, not only well, but perfect. It was absolutely perfect.

I turned off the television as Their Majesties departed in the Golden State Coach. The King was finally allowing himself a full smile. The Queen was waving to the soldiers as they passed. It was perfect.

PERFECT.

I opened Tumblr and watched a few clips from all that I missed. I was busy, but now I'm going to go watch some more! I'm dying to see the moment of crowning!

[invisiblegarters]

Be Mine Superstar Ep 4

Look at our boy Ashi playing detective. I genuinely kind of adore Punn now - he's just so damn earnest. Not liking him feels like kicking a puppy, almost.

Title hanging about to gum up the works, as usual. Man dude. You are pretty but you're not that pretty.

See, I knew Muang wasn't all that bad, although I am kind of wondering what the heck happened to the whole "Ashi wants nothing to do with you" line from the last episode.

Oh, well that's one way to see a doctor. Is it real or is it a reason to find him? I honestly can't tell right now since Muang is busy grinning at him like a besotted fool. Currently my guess is that he's totally just trying to see his crush, lol. This guy.

Oh the height difference really is real and not in Punn's imagination. For whatever reason I wasn't sure last week. Heaven help me I love a good height difference. Ashi what are you up to?

Aw okay so Muang is also trying to help Punn out. Keep up with this kind of thing and I'm gonna have to really start liking you. His manager, however, is kinda dumb, no?

Come change your band aids in my room. Smooth, Ashi. You know, if things keep up this way I might just decide these two are perfect for each other for real, lol.

This home is really pretty, and the staircase has a rail! Okay it's a flimsy plastic thing but it might actually be more sturdy than it looks!

Well, kid's got the smitten looks down, that's for sure.

Fluffy puppy!

Grandma's great. She understands how to watch these kinds of shows. What's the point if you're not talking at your screen.

Oi, the wife thing. No thanks.

This Daddy Muang thing is really growing on me.

...okay, that's a lie. I loved it from moment one. Daddy Muang forever!

Well at least Wan isn't interfering. The manager shenanigans are still my least favorite bit of this show, though.

...did Ashi seriously just ask Punn to be his houseboy? And did Punn kind of turn him down? And then it happened again! Ahsi is really angling for Punn to come take care of him isn't he? And Punn keeps not biting. I thought he'd bite faster. This is definitely not what I was expecting out of this show. Not that I'm complaining - it's charming in it's own way and I'm officially enjoying it now.

I am still assuming that at some point Punn is gonna wind up being a live in houseboy, though.

Ashi: keeps trying to get Punn to take care of him.

Punn: I think I'm interfering too much.

Me: he wants you to be his live in houseboy, honey. Just go do the thing; we all know you want to.

And now Ashi is at Punn's house - oh no, is he gonna see the body pillow and the pictures and the - *cringes*

[squirrelno2]

Jesse Lives AU, pt 4

What is a schedule? Are these even remotely similar in length? Am I ever posting this anywhere other than Tumblr? These are the questions that have no answer.

Under the cut: Jesse and Jale go exploring and finally get off-world. (Apparently tumblr hates me so never mind on that last part I guess I'm writing part five based off my memory of the fuckton of content I wrote that Tumblr just lost. Have fun with what I've got though)

Previous: 1, 2, 3

Next: 5

Jale went around the side of the crash, knowing better than to try and enter a ship at the engine end when it had only recently wrecked. He and a still-complaining Jesse found their way in at the hangar bay doors.

With the angle the ship had hit the ground at, just walking through wasn't always feasible. Jale and Jesse clambered awkwardly over the hulls of shuttles and starfighters in the hangar. Jale kept one eye on the clone as they went. He didn't trust Jesse not to start waving that blaster around again, or worse.

"Here," Jale said when he found a starfighter that wasn't completely crumpled in the impact. "Give me a hand."

"Clearly you work on your own," Jesse said. "Can't you handle this shit?"

Jale rolled his eyes and slammed his foot into the window. It took a few tries, but it finally shifted under his weight and shattered inward.

"Wait here, then," Jale said. "And if I find something that's obviously personal, I'll take it and I won't tell you."

He smirked at the sound Jesse made as he climbed up to watch as Jale swung himself inside.

There wasn't quite enough room for Jale to get his tools from his pack. He looked up at Jesse, weighing his options, and decided he would just have to remove what he could by hand. Jale crouched over the control panel and got to work prying it open with his fingernails.

"Wouldn't that work better with a tool of some kind?" Jesse asked. Jale scowled and gave the panel a vicious tug. It finally popped loose, bending one of his nails in the process. Jale bit back a curse. He didn't want to give the clone any satisfaction.

"I happen to be good at what I do," Jale said with dignity. Jesse snorted.

"Right," he said. "Who wouldn't boast of their skills in graverobbing?"

Normally when dealing with bitchy assholes Jale would imagine the wires he was tugging were the person's hair. Unfortunately, Jesse had only the barest hint of fuzz on his scalp. Jale tugged the targeting system out of the ship and settled for pretending he'd just shoved Jesse off the starfighter's hull.

"You got your prize. Can we go?" Jesse asked as Jale pulled himself back up.

"You can, if you want to walk around with that head wound on an unfamiliar moon. I have more work to do."

"It's healed," Jesse said.

"So you just didn't wipe off the dried blood as some kind of fashion choice?"

"If you're so worried about me, we ought to go."

"Don't read into it," Jale scoffed. "With you here, I can carry more, which means we're both less likely to get dumped on the first hellpit of a planet that crew finds." He hopped down. Jesse followed more slowly; his face twitched as he touched the ground, like he was in pain. Jale wondered if the clone was hurt anywhere other than his head. His mother would eat him alive if she knew he was dragging an injured man around a wreck instead of finding medical care, but then again it wasn't like his mother would ever meet Jesse.

"And when are you going to be satisfied? What are you looking for?"

"Anything I can sell," Jale said grimly. The floor slanted up away from them, made even harder to navigate by the wall that had been punctured in the crash and now poked jagged edges into Jale's way. Awkwardly, he climbed the wreckage, hoping Jesse wouldn't test his larger bulk on it until Jale had made it up. He had no such luck - Jesse apparently refused to let Jale out of his sight - but thankfully the surface held.

Jale looked into the hall, trying to see where he should go next.

"What's this way?" he asked. "Engines?"

"Medbay," Jesse said tightly.

"Oh, good," Jale said. "That shit sells."

"You're not touching the medbay," Jesse said. "I'll take you to the engine room. But you aren't going anywhere near - near the medbay."

"Something you don't want me to see?" Jale asked.

"Someone I don't want to unbury," Jesse said. Jale couldn't hold in a small "ew" at the thought. He hadn't realized there might be bodies in there, but decomposition certainly wasn't his thing. He could stick with the rest of it today.

The engine room was still a little smoky, even days after the crash. Jale gave the hyperdrive a wide berth. He'd have to be an idiot to poke around there.

Some of the fuel reserves were intact, and Jale carefully inspected it to be sure he wasn't going to blow them up if he took a barrel.

"I'm not carrying that," Jesse said. Jale rolled his eyes.

"I can manage it," he said.

Jesse clearly didn't believe him. Jale, who normally rolled barrels like these, scowled and heaved it up into his arms.

"You're an idiot," Jesse observed.

"Shut up," Jale grunted, setting the barrel down by the door.

"Is that it?" Jesse asked. Jale sighed, turning to look. The engines were worse off than he'd hoped, but he could probably strip a few parts.

"I'm going to head up there," Jale said, indicating the upper level.

"The lifts aren't going to work."

"I have done this before, thank you. I know what I'm doing."

Grateful for the awkward slant of the ship, Jale hoisted himself up on a computer and jumped for a sort of ledge that had been created when something on the other side slammed into the wall. Carefully, he snuck along it and reached up for the edge of the catwalk.

"You're not tall enough for that!"

Jale jumped at the clone's voice, and frantically grabbed at the surface beneath him.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he demanded. Jesse raised an eyebrow as he peered up at Jale. Jale hated him a little more.

The worst of it was that Jesse wasn't wrong. Jale took his bag off his back and pulled a rope from it. With a toss, a careful knot, and an emphatic tug, he had another way up. Jale began the climb, trying to ignore the ache in his shoulders and the expressions he imagined Jesse making.

The upper level was a lot less stable than it had looked. It creaked under Jale's feet. He drew a steadying breath and carefully did not look down.

"No wonder this ship crashed. You people can't even put railings on these walkways," Jale called, trying to distract himself from the shaking under his feet.

"Is everything a joke to you?" Jesse snapped. "Why don't you dedicate some of that thought to keeping yourself from falling and shut up about my dead siblings?"

Jale grimaced. He could, perhaps, see how that had been in poor taste.

He wasn't wrong, though.

He found the equipment he was looking for, a kind of monitor to help look at the hyperdrive when it was unstable. It was one of the few elements of an engine this big that could be installed on smaller ships like the one he'd begged passage on. Unfortunately for him, it was significantly better secured here than on the smaller wrecks he'd been working lately.

Jale started to unscrew the corners of the monitor. Three were reachable, but the far top corner was just out of range as the walkway curved away from the monitor.

"Almost done?" Jesse called as the catwalk groaned.

"I just have to get this screw -"

His joke about railings came back to haunt him. Jale's foot slipped as he leaned out over the gap, sending him tumbling. He flailed, barely managing to grab the edge. He was dangling over the gap - not as far down as if the engines were below, but enough that he'd break a bone or two. Jale wondered if he could swing himself enough to land where Jesse was -

Where was Jesse?

"Hey, idiot!"

Jale nearly let go in his surprise at seeing Jesse kneeling above him. With a grunt, Jesse grabbed him by the forearms.

"Try not being deadweight," Jesse said through gritted teeth. Jale dug his fingernails into Jesse's arms in response as the clone pulled him up. For a second, he was on top of the clone, trying to catch his breath. Annoyingly, Jesse had nice eyes.

Then Jesse shoved at his chest.

"Get up," he snapped. "How the hell are you still alive? You can't have been doing this long."

"As though you're the expert?" Jale spat. He got to his feet. Begrudgingly, because this was another thing his mother would eat him alive about, he added, "Thanks for the save."

"Yeah, well," Jesse said. "Don't read too much into it."