#but it makes the set complete so i feel weird posting it by itself

[hinakyuu]

in my drafts i have a gifset of matthew moments across all the playoffs series that i’ve been updating even throughout the scf, but idk how i feel about posting it after they officially **** it all :( so tempted to post just the gif of him and sasha hugging from the 1st series to self-soothe lmao

[honeytonedhottie]

what do u do with ur time⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪷

everyone has twenty-fours in a day. but why is it that some ppl end up getting more done, and what they get done has high ROI? this post will hopefully inform u about how important it is to seize ur time.

scheduling : i'll always advocate for scheduling ur time and organizing it into smaller chunks. its something that rly helped me when i was breaking habits of chronic procrastination. it kept me busy, and gave my time meaning.

there r endless scheduling tools like notion, the notes app, or even a physical agenda. i prefer online resources bcuz i always have my phone or computer on me so its more practical for my lifestyle.

before the start of every week (saturday or sunday) have a seat and plan out ur week. what do u need to get done? what would u like to enjoy? etc etc. doing so gives ur time purpose and meaning and if u stick to the agenda, you'll find that ur literally so productive!!

the objective is to make the MOST of ur time, with that being said evaluate what u do on a regular basis, what needs to be done for ur future, and determine what has the highest return on investment.

WHAT MAKES SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE : it says so in the word itself, productive. to produce. produce a feeling? a tangible outcome? i think thats up to you to decide. but if doing something provides you with anything positive i think it qualifies as productive. but being productive also comes with the pressure of ALWAYS being productive.

you need to also allow urself time to do NOTHING. ik it seems weird but i think that its the most productive of all. when i say nothing i dont mean scrolling mindlessly through ur phone. i mean separating urself completely from ur phone, from anything at all and just SIT with ur thoughts for some time. dont get distracted just be alone with ur thoughts. do absolutely nothing, dont distract urself by reading or looking out the window just sit there and think.

with all this being said i hope that u can give ur time value and that ur time will give back to you and set u up for success 💗💗💗💗

[kisseobie]

Hello🫣🫣, can you do a piwon reaction to you asking them to pick out your nail design? Maybe with inspo pics too?🥺🥺

p1harmony picks your nail set!

pairings: p1harmony x reader

warnings: suggestive (just jiung)

a/n: hii!! i hope u enjoy!! my imessage is being weird so i was originally gonna do fake texts but .. that didn’t work so this is plan b! enjoy!!

° . ❀ keeho

he adores the fact that you are never without a new nail set, and is always secretly hoping that one day you’ll ask him what your next set should be, so when you do, he’s super excited! definitely turns it into a very serious task, pulls up pinterest and makes an entire collaborative board with you so you two can look through different options. he’s really into airbrushed aura nails he saw, and you two settle on those! likes the minimalistic design with the almond shape, and takes you to your appointment (and pays too!!) just because he’s so excited that his input mattered to you. def posts a picture of your hands interlocked on his insta story right after your nails are complete :3

° . ❀ theo

i think theo would be a little lost on what exactly you would like, so he would ask you to show him a few examples of what you’re looking for! but it definitely boosts his ego that you asked him for his opinion, even if he doesn’t know much about nail trends. prefers shorter nails with cute designs, so he really pushes for little strawberry nails! thinks you’ll look so cute with them, asks you to send him pictures as soon as they are done <3 shows off the photos to the rest of the boys, bragging that your design was his choice (they literally could not care less). when he sees them in person, he definitely examines them and kisses each one of your fingers! wants to be the only person choosing your sets from now on!!

° . ❀ jiung

a self-proclaimed nail expert himself, jiung is very excited for the opportunity to choose your new nail design! he’s so cute, he already has a bunch of ideas that he didn’t even need to search up… i think he would love seeing you in baby pink though, so baby pink sparkly french tips with a glitter outline is what he chooses! you are a bit hesitant about the size and square shape, but he sheepishly tells you he likes when you scratch his back and it inflates his ego when the marks stay etched on his skin for the remainder of the week :p since ji loves nail polish, i think he would match with you!! picks out some baby pink nail polish and glitter that matches your nails and is so so excited to surprise you with them :DD in the future, he continues to coordinate his nail colors with your sets

° . ❀ intak

he 100% would get so cheesed if you asked him to help you, makes him feel like you want to carry a piece of him wherever you go. i think he would love cool designs with stars and silver accents, and since his main killin’ it outfit is red, he asks if you could pretty please get red stars with silver french tips. like kyo, he clears his schedule to go with you. i can totally see him sitting in the empty chair next to you and asking a bunch of questions during the process which would no doubt annoy your nail tech lol.. but it’s cute that he’s so invested!! definitely takes selfies in his killin’ it promo outfit with your hands all over his face and neck :p

° . ❀ soul

lovessss cute little characters, so i think he would give you a lot of free reign on the design and shape itself, but would just want little characters on them. when you show him a bunch of ideas with characters from domo to korilakkuma, he gets very indecisive and keeps changing his mind, but he eventually decides on pastel rilakkuma nails!! is so giggly when you show him, spends forever looking them over and commenting on how cute they are :( from now on, you always surprise him with sets that are always adorned with a silly character he adores <3

° . ❀ jongseob

i think seob would really like beachy nails! think yamanba gyaru but more minimal, with bright colors and silly little plumeria flowers. tells you he doesn’t mind anything but would love if you tried longer almond nails, because he always loves when you scratch his head at night hehe .. he’s another member that would take you to the salon himself and pay for you (just like in my fic jasmine!!) and wouldn’t let you argue with him. is just honestly very happy to spend any time with you at all so he’s so excited to take you to get your nails done, and even more excited that he’ll be getting those head scratches he loves so much !!

inspo in order: keeho, theo, jiung, intak, soul, jongseob

tags: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

❤︎ ིུ͠*:·

[dionysusdecent]

I'm just gonna make this a full post because why not. As some of you may know, Project Moon has found itself in more drama. And surprise, it involves misinformation because people dont know how to read. Currently PM is in a legal battle against Monggeu, Mimi and the Game Consumer Association because Monggeu and Mimi are filing copyright on their respective works (Leviathan for Monggeu and Wonder Lab for Mimi).

I'm just gonna start with the GCS. If you've been a fan since before 4.5, you might remember the incredibly stupid Vellmori drama, where a bunch of incels hot mad at the CG artist because the ID artist drew Ishmael in a skin tight wet suit rather than a bikini. I bring this up because the GC went by a different name then, the PMUA, or the Project Moon User Association, a group with no official ties to Project Moon and who slandered the company relentlessly and wanted to bleed every penny from the company because....really just because they could. They are a group who will do anything to see Project Moon burn to the ground, and so in another brilliant idea, are backing Monggeu and Mimi in the lawsuit....except they arent because they themselves have stated that they do not have the money to do so and are asking for donations.

Getting to the copyright stuff, Monggeu and Mimi are filing copyright claims for Leviathan and Wonder Lab respectively, two comics/mangas that are set in the Project Moon universe. However they have an issue, they do not own anything within those comics. Nothing in either of them are by right theirs and are instead owned by PM in their entirety. The best they could hope for is owning the names. PM has already show proof that they worked with Monggeu when it came to Leviathan which completely destroys any claims they could make to owning Leviathan, as PM was working on it as well. Mimi......Mimi is in a weird case as her work would also technically not be hers as Wonder Lab is still set in the PM universe. But PM did take it down when she asked and also made Wonder Lab non-canon....but that just brings up the question of why even do this then? Her work is non-canon and can no longer be viewed officially so why would she even try and fight for the copyright? I dont have an awnser, I'm just asking the question.

This last segment will be used as a PSA for everyone. Please for the love of everything wait till both sides get their side of the story out and actually read what both sides say before making judgments. Regardless of your feelings and KJH (Kim Ji Hoon), that does not give you any right to not only go against everything PM says simply because you dont like the guy, and by every god, does not under any circumstances mean you get to spread misinformation. I have already seen a post showing the GCS/PMUA post about this and in that very post is misinformation. Specifically from GCS/PMUA, but since someone spread it here and others have reblogged it, they are also spreading misinformation. Vellmori WAS NOT FIRED. She left OF HER OWN ACCORD AND PM WAS FINE WITH IT. Not liking KJH because is isnt the sharpest tool in the shed does not mean you are allowed to spread any misinformation, and if you spread it unknowingly, then atleast they to correct it. And for the last gods damned time. VELLMORI LEFT OF HER OWN ACCORD, IT WAS HER OWN DECISION, PROJECT MOON DID NOT FIRE HER.

tldr: Project Moon is fully within their right to fight this false claim as these claims are coming from an outside source that does not own any of the IP and were simply contract work. And these false copyright claimers are also being backed by an organization who hates Project Moon and will do anything to see the company burn, and use misinformation to do it. Dont spread misinformation and if you do it accidentally, try to correct yourself. Misinformation is how innocent people get canceled, lose their jobs or possibly lose their lives. Dont. Spread. It.

I do wanna add something on here (so this is an edit fyi), but Project Moon isnt a perfect company. Perfect is an impossibility. Perfect cannot exist. PM has made mistakes and will keep making them, we all will. Does that mean they should be excused? Absolutely not, that's not how this works. PM isnt perfect, KJH isnt perfect, none of us are perfect, and no one can be perfect. PM has done some stupid things in the past, but they dont deserve this. They do not deserve to be continuously slandered against by a group who is out for their own gain when that same group said they were here to help people. PM is not perfect, but PMUA/GCS is far less perfect than PM could ever be. They are greedy and selfish and will continue to spread misinformation to make PM look bad. You do not need to support or even like PM, but please understand that the other side is far worse and do not care for anyone other than themselves. (This is not talking about Monggeu or Mimi, as far as I'm concerned, they are good people and nothing I'm adding here is against them. Just the PMUA/GC)

2nd edit: it has been confirmed with the official english translation that Mimi and Monggeu were both not just contract work, but effectively temporary PM employees during their contract. These means they were paid as much as any other employee. I did not mention this as I wasnt sure if this was accurate from the translations available. Along with this, according to PM, while Monggeu said it was PM's decision to cancel the manga for Leviathan, it was in fact Monggeu's choice and PM respected and accepted this. I would also like to mention that the letter from the PMUA/GCS stated that because PM didnt directly contribute to Leviathan or Wonder Lab, that PM owned nothing and only Monggeu and Mimi owned everything. One, this is false as PM has already said they worked with both during the creation of Wonder Lab and Leviathan (Wonder Lab had more freedom) and two, personally, that is incredibly insane. Just because I make a new comic in the DC or Marvel universe with some new characters does not mean I own everything in the comic.

link for anyone wishing to read PM's statement in English: https://x.com/LimbusCompany_B/status/1816630063154233644

[the-s1lly-corner]

hello! Im one(1) of the anons that requested the jane doe reader and i thought of a funny scenario

So the character of jane doe was basically decapitaded so, imagine if reader's head isnt atached to their body, and can take their head off .

The tadc cast react to the reader taking off their head and then putting It back on like nothing. Tyy!!!

( remember to rest and drink wáter) :)

TADC cast x a reader with a detachable head!

oh hoho this one is going to be fun because my TADC oc can do the same thing, can take their limbs and head off at will and as needed; so i may or may not let my excitement show in this post and use my oc as a placeholder.. i definitely will.. which reminds me, i have a sketch of my ocs human design as well as a messy ref of their digital body... i have got to draw them more.. maybe ill finish the human sketch sometime today after this post... speaking of this post! this is the last request in my inbox ! after this im gonna take a break for a bit then reopen requests! do not send in requests at this time, please! (this goes for everyone regardless of fandom </3)

CAINE:

technically i think you could consider him with a detachable head... because i dont... think he has a neck... so technically.. not phased at all, he has seen things from various different circus members.. but lets say you came before zooble, and you were also the first circus member who could do that... i think he would be really into it and be amused. probably flies right up to you chattering about that little trick of yours

POMNI:

uncomfy by it, i think it would take her a while to get used to it... i think she would be the same with zooble thanks to the "these are people" thing, with the only reason she didnt freak out at zoobles dismemberment in the pilot being because she was preoccupied with her panic and confusion of this new setting

RAGATHA:

mildly uncomfortable anytime it happens but no where near as uncomfortable as pomni, since she has had her time to get used to a bunch of weird stuff in the circus; both from the circus itself as well as the people in it.. will guide your body to your head if theres ever a scenario where the two get separated.. hand holding... smiles

JAX:

probably tries to convince you to leave your head in someones room or in a box and have some poor unsuspecting person open it.. i think that would scare anyone, even if they were used to your headless activities... probably laughs at your body wandering aimlessly trying to find your head if theres an occasion where it was forcefully knocked off.. probably nudges your head away... this only really works if your body has to blindly fumble and you having to telepathically guide it towards you instead of it just going into autopilot and knowing where you are automatically and has zero struggle beelining for the head... but fumbling... funny

KINGER:

owoo!! jumpscare!/ref

honestly i think sometimes he just rolls with it and other times hes bothered by it; really depends on how hes feeling that day... but i think the majority is that hes used to it thanks to zooble... has probably run off with your head on accident when he meant to run off with you as a whole, usually in the face of danger during an IHA...

ZOOBLE:

completely unphased by it since they can pretty much do the same thing! there isnt really much to be said since zooble neither feels this way or that in regards to your little decapitation trick... if they couldnt mess with their own parts though i think they would find your thing cool, though

GANGLE:

depending on what your digital body is themed around i think this would determine how gangle would feel about it... like zooble is mismatched and is seen taking out their antennae as well as their limbs being snagged off by jax... with zooble, is makes sense, they look like a mismatched mess of different parts.. so if you were something that could reasonably do the same thing i think she can overlook it... now the first time would still be a shock, no doubt about it, regardless of theme.. very careful whenever theres a reason they need to get close to your head, she does not wanna knock it off and potentially upset you

[penvisions]

one fish, two fish {chapter 2}

Pairing: Local! Frankie Morales x Transplant! Reader

Summary: Reaching out and another chance encounter undoes the wonderful night you shared with Frankie. But maybe a chance encounter with his friend from the bar can undo all that...

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: canon typical language, canon typical bad luck, angst, unlucky encounters, misunderstandings, reader gets ghosted, then frankie gets ghosted, feelings of inadequacy, recovery, ptsd symptoms, past drug use, na meeting setting, conversations with a sponsor, a lot of feelings, reader has imposter syndrome, rude people, entitlement, workplace politics, degrading language, reader has a callsign nickname but no assigned name, lemme know if i missed any (nicely) please!

A/N: kind of scared to post this, i know i have other fics that are 'due for' an update but inspiration is low as i prepare to start working again and recoup from a camping trip. this'll be the heaviest chapter, wanting to do more fluff for this fic and go back to funny moments and silly times with frankie! thank y'all for reading and as always, hope the days are good to you ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || frankie masterlist || ko-fi

Radio check for Fish, come in Fish.

Read out loud and clear, Angel. Go ahead for Fish.

Roger that, requesting communication.

Request granted. Glad you’re back on the airwaves. Everything okay?

Affirmative.

Copy that. Standby…

Phone poised in hand, you wait for the speech bubble to pop back up, indicating his return to the conversation. But when half an hour, an hour goes by you sigh and load the inactive thing into your bag to continue your errands. After a rather frustrating visit to the phone provider you had chosen, a weak argument of ‘but it was an accident’ when told that the damage to the phone looked purposeful and just in time for the newest phone release, you had sat down at a coffee shop to grab breakfast and set up the new device. Now though, you guessed it was time to get the rest of the day’s errands done.

The paper Frankie had handed you nearly a week ago had found itself tacked to the half corkboard, half whiteboard calendar you kept in the kitchen. Your eyes sliding to it more often than you’d like to admit as you made dashes through in the morning on the way to work or cooked in the evenings.

An entire week goes by and you try to put it out of your mind. New phone heavy in your hands when you settle with it on the edge of the couch, or check it each morning before work, at the office on your lunch break. But no new messages come in, just that once funny copy that, standby. Standby…. Standby….

You had thought things were getting better, but the girls at work were being weird and conversations hushed whenever you walked into the breakroom or entered the bathroom and more than two were together. You hadn’t even bothered to bring up the fact that they ditched you at the bar the night you officially met Frankie…because it didn’t matter.

They had done it and it was over. If it had been intentional then that was on you for not seeing through their false offers of genuine camaraderie. If it had been accidental, then that was on you for not noticing how short their attention spans were. If it had been to give you a chance to go home with the not one, but two guys that approached you the second you were alone, then it was appreciated but a bit vapid of an assumption of what type of person you were.

The atmosphere at work and the novelty of being a new person to the team had quickly vanished. You were now the one whose desk was piled high with files and sticky note reminders of tasks to complete that carried over into the next day in an endless cycle. The routine of it all was so monotonous and draining.

Wake up, breakfast, commute.

Work, lunch, return emails about work that won’t be finished.

Commute, run, prep lunch, make dinner, clean.

Shower, pace the house, sleep.

It was dizzying as much as the errant thoughts of visiting one of the dance clubs downtown and tracking down the sirens call of pills or powder, anything to help you get out of your head and the endlessly swirling thoughts of doing everything wrong.

But you couldn’t, even if relapse was a part of recovery. It was not a part you wanted to end up being complicit with, one you were trying to avoid with every fiber of your being. The feeling of drowning and sinking down to the bottom of the ocean an all too real one that consumes you from the second you wake up to the second you finally pass out at the end of the day. Waterlogged clothing and the weight of water in your lungs too real.

Memories of turbulent water and debris raining down into it all around you only adding to the chaos of your mind.

You could hear the higher pitched prattle of a little girl on the next aisle over and you find yourself smiling despite the exhaustion that makes your body heavy. The basket hanging from your arm is laden with a bunch of bananas, a few other fruits, a carton of coffee creamer, and a pack of gummy sharks. Just one more thing to gather was a box of oatmeal, on the cereal aisle that you turn on.

There’s the broad back of Frankie, standing in front of one of the larger carts the store offers for shoppers. He’s quietly speaking to someone on the other side of the cart, eclipsed by the big form of him. The cart is nearly full though, you can see the colored boxes and wrappers of various foods inside as he leans over to grab a box of plain corn flakes.

You’re about to call out to him, your cheek tingling where he had pressed his plush lips to you nearly two weeks ago now. But a shrill peel of happy laughter from a child that is revealed to be in the seat of his cart.

“Daaaaddy, that’s the wrong one, silly! We need the frosted corn flakes.” Daddy. Dad. Frankie was a father. Your entire body freezes as you’re faced with the reason for his radio silence for the past several days. He had been so…charming and down to earth once the miscommunication had been cleared up but apparently he hadn’t shared with you one of the biggest parts of himself.

“No, mija, we don’t.” His shoulders are shaking with his own laughter as he places the box into the cart and goes to pull it behind him as he nears closer to you in front of the oatmeal. The little girl in his cart turns her eyes toward you, catching sight of your surprised expression.

“Dad! That girl is really pretty, her dress is so cute!”

“Who- Oh.” He’s looking up from the suddenly too bright boxes of cereal with their mascots and large block lettering. His eyes widen and he looks like he’s been caught, something you don’t have the energy to dissect at the moment. But one thing is glaringly obvious, he’s a father and family man. You went out on what was essentially a first date with a man who had a family. The realization slams into you and you’re blindly grabbing the closest box of oatmeal, throwing it into your basket before turning on your feet and fleeing to the checkout lanes.

“A-“ But before he could even get your name out you were down the aisle and turning out of sight, heart beating far too fast and anxiety thrumming. The entire process of checking out and paying for your groceries was a blur, you weren’t even sure if you thanked the cashier or bid her a good day. The slam of your car door was loud as you quickly shut it behind you. The image of him across from you in a diner, the easy conversation and goodnight kiss now tainted with the fact that he hadn’t been responsive and was a father. He could very well have a wife or girlfriend and you hadn’t even thought to ask that of him, his behavior so willing to help clear the air and ensure you had a way home.

Had you misread the vibe?

Had you just not picked up on the signals he was giving you, reading too much into the shared meal?

Had you done wrong by not asking?

The what ifs plagued you as you made your way back home, realizing that you weren’t too far from where he lived, most likely with his family. Your stomach churns and your temples throb, your lunch not settling well in the wake of your fast exit.

A migraine, you’ve worked yourself up to the point of a migraine.

The rest of your evening is spent putting the groceries away, brewing a small pot of coffee, and taking a too hot, too long shower before laying down in total darkness. You don’t flip on a switch for lights for the entire weekend as you try to keep the curtains drawn over the windows and the sounds down to a minimum as the pounding in your head persists. You don’t hear your phone go off in your purse by the front door but even if you had, you wouldn’t have known how to respond through squinting eyes.

When you manage to drag yourself out of bed on Monday, the world is still too bright and loud, but you have to get to work. Calling out would be a bad reflection and you didn’t want to disappoint the boss, someone who knew someone in your family. A favor, that you had been considered for the job in the first place, especially in a new city where you had no experience or connections. The entirety of your screen was grouped messages from your brother, from your coworkers asking after emails you hadn’t responded to. One voicemail from a mechanic to check out the weird sound your car was making when you braked, too tired to look into it yourself. And then there was the block of notifications from Fish.

Two questioning texts in the joking manner dragged on from the previous thread he had abandoned. A single one of your actual name, asking if everything was okay and if you could just message him back to let him know. A missed call and a voicemail.

‘Hey, um, so I realize how that may have looked. At the grocery store. I just…I wanted to apologize- again, for the way our interactions seem to spiral. But I swear to you, I was going to tell you. I get it if…if you don’t want to see me again or feel like you can’t trust me even if you only did for those few hours in the diner. But…I really do like you, Angel. You’re…never mind. Just…reach out if you need anything or a nudge in the right direction for businesses and shops….Bye.”

You weren’t sure what to think, emotions warring with each other inside your chest and mind. The deep velvet of his voice soothing even if you didn’t want it to be. The words never mind repeating in your head over and over again. But the one thing you were sure of was that this job was turning out not to be the one for you. The pile of files stacked on your desk was so tall you could see it across the room, the cubicle partition doing nothing to hide them from view.

The seat is barely squeaking with your weight when your boss is approaching you with a too sweet smile and a big hand on the back of your chair. His fingers brush the hair you’ve kept down today to avoid another wave of the migraine that had kept you down all weekend. The sunglasses you had worn the entire drive downtown had been only mildly helpful. Your hopeful mood for a decent day swirls from your chest and down to the bottom of your stomach, settling heavily.

“My office. End of day.”

“Yes, sir, of course.”

The day is a blur of emails, finishing up file notes that aren’t even under your name, of a salad you forgot to add dressing to, and finally you’re sitting across from the boss with your bag settled in your lap.

“It’s been brought to my attention that you’re having trouble finishing daily tasks. Most are being started either too late in the day or the day after they were due.”

“I’ve submitted everything assigned to me on time. And while I have no problem with the additional tasks, the submissions that are late tend to be the ones dropped off on my desk after I return from lunch.”

“Then perhaps you need to skip lunch in order to ensure the get completed.” He’s not even looking up from the paperwork he’s going over, the scratch of his ballpoint pen never stopping as he makes notes on it and circles large chunks of text.

“Excuse me?”

“There have been a few complaints that you aren’t doing enough to aid your superiors, they rely on new people to help pick up the slack. The files moved under your name for completion often go undone. A few complaints have been made about the language of your email signoffs as well. The phrase ‘passive-aggressive’ has been brought up.”

“So I’m getting reprimanded for work other people aren’t completing? And then scrutinized for the more than professional communications I ensure to include when emailing finished work to the people responsible for it?”

“We all work together here, there is no ‘my work, her work, his work’. We all help each other to get stuff done in a timely manner.”

“There certainly is. I have files assigned to me, Shannon has files assigned to her. Mark has filed assigned to him. Even if their files are dropped off on my desk to be done, that doesn’t negate the fact that they aren’t assigned to me.”

“Then perhaps you need to start taking work home. But at home hours are a privilege, so there will be no compensation for-“

“I quit.”

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from the paperwork, surprise coloring his features.

“I quit, I’m not about to play office politics with you all. If someone has a problem with my work or the way I speak, then they should confront me and not run off to HR. I haven’t done anything wrong to warrant this write up.”

“I see…” His hands are clasped over that damn document, the pen neatly lined up beside it. He’s schooled his face into one of thinly veiled politeness, but you can see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Yup, thank you for the opportunity.” You go to shoulder your bag, the strap falling from your fingers as his next words. It thuds to the floor, but you don’t reach for it.

“Not much of those for…someone like you.” He’s not even looking at you, his eyes focused on the bag partially opened on the floor. On the prescription bottle peeking out from the now busted zipper.

“A simple ‘thank you for your service’ goes a long way, you know. But it’s nice to know you don’t really give a fuck what I’ve sacrificed for you all to sit here in your offices all day and make fun of me for how I dealt with the things I’ve see and experienced.”

“Most people don’t turn to hard drugs to deal with the difficulties of life.” The words sting as they cut into your chest, the judgement and disgust aching. It’s always shocking, the ways in which people react to the way your life had played out. The way you had no choice in how it played out. The drugs hadn’t been your choice nor your preferred poison. The allure of them had been born of a too strong prescription, written for you at the same time the paperwork for your retirement had been drawn up.  

“And what’s so hard about your life? The fact that you’re sleeping with your secretary and you don’t want your wife to find out? Oh, the cliché of it all. You dug that hole yourself, put yourself in that situation.”

“And you put yourself in the situation of serving during a war.” But you’re even less prepared for the words as they slice into you, digging deeper than the first. You’re sure blood is visible through the silk of your office appropriate top, the blazer over your shoulders allowing for the damage to be seen across the pristine desk.

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t put this job down on your resume, you won’t be getting any kind words from me should another employer call.” The dismissal is expected, the call he’s sure to make to inform your family friend is as well. A call to you in the evening already draining what little energy you had and it hadn’t even happened yet.

“Gotcha.” Chair clattering as you stand, you don’t even return to your desk or retrieve your Tupperware from the sink in the breakroom. You feel the eyes of too curious people follow you as you cross the open space, whispers sprouting as soon as you pass. Fuck them, fuck all of them. You need a job but not bad enough to put up with whatever fresh hell was going on there.

You’re blinded by the brightness of the outside world when you push through the front door, the lady at the front desk bidding you a good day in too chipper of a mood for you current ability to handle. Your breath is punched from you as you collide with something solid. You feel hands grip your upper arms and help prevent you from careening to the ground.

“Woah, hey. Oh! You’re the woman Fish was talking about! The one from the bar.” You glimpse that tightly curled, dark hair over a handsome face as you steady yourself and step back. Brown eyes so bright in the sunlight they remind you of Frankie’s in the fluorescents of the diner and your stomach flutters.

But it’s his friend, not him. Right outside your former place of employment, the attempt at a new life that was quickly crumbling from under your feet.

“Yeah, your buddy is a real piece of work.” Tone scathing, you can’t help the way it curls your lips as it’s given breath. Ire at yourself and shame at the way you had hoped for the smallest moment that he would turn out to be something good filling your chest uncomfortably.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He’s taken aback by the bite in your tone, his easy smile turning upside down, jaw clenching tight as he watches you with narrowed eyes. Defensive, not something you were willing to deal with as you feel your fingers twitch and your stomach drop. The flare of emotion dissipating as soon as it had flared to life.

“Just…forget it. I’m sorry, I just quit my job and I’m a little…”

“Let’s grab a coffee, I’m sure we can work out something.” He’s so earnest, his dark brown eyes catching the afternoon rays of sun. Such a small, well-meaning smile making your heart soften and your quick judgement of the man back at the bar melt away.

“I don’t know you and you don’t know me, what-“

“I work for the PD and one of the guys in our friend group, he works for the military still. Does recruitment and works in the VA. I know we need-“

“I’m not interested in another tour, I’m retired. Probably wouldn’t even qualify.” You cut him off still, unable to even begin to entertain the thought of donning a uniform again. Of the slick updo you had mastered to pull all of your hair up and out of the way. Your skin prickles as the hot feeling of shrapnel embedding itself into your side blooms, all to real as you stand in the middle of the sidewalk downtown.

“No, no, god no. I wouldn’t either to be honest. But depending on your skill set I know they need mechanics and technicians. Explosives expert, right? Means you’ve got engineering skills.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Fish was very chatty after your little diner date.”

“That was three weeks ago.” Denial is on the tip of your tongue at his description, but that’s what it had been: a date. With a man who hadn’t told you of his family.

“Yeah, and he’s been a bit of a bummer since you haven’t contacted him since.”

“Look,-“

“Santiago Garcia. Pope was my callsign. Whichever you prefer.” His large hand is warm as it reaches for the one you were trying to wave him off with. Electricity sparks and you feel it travel up your arm, momentarily shocking you before you pull your hand away. A sheepish smile and mumbled apology from him at the mishap lightens the mood a little, something about how the shirt he’s wearing has been making it a common occurrence today. The need to go shopping for more dryer sheets humanizing him further.

“Look, Santiago. I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I just really want to go home and eat my weight in Chinese takeout, okay?”

“Okay, I get that. Believe me, I more than get that, but-“ He’s pulling out his wallet, a thick card is being offered to you with his name and contact information printed on it. “Just consider it, yeah? We all gotta stick together, civilians don’t understand even if they try to. We can find you work, something that’ll keep your hands busy and your mind occupied. Office work doesn’t suit you, you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to it, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me, hermosa.” And with another charming smile, he’s back on his way down the street, his destination unknown to you. Sighing, you pocket the card and make your way around the building, waving at the security guard that walked up and down the block throughout the day. Your truck is dirty, washing it pushed back further and further as a storm closes in on the coast and inevitably travels inland toward you. The thought of heavy rain and whipping winds turning you off from the waste of water, suds, and an afternoon you could spend looking at things to do around the city.

When you go to turn the key, nothing happens. No clicking, no beeping of the dash lighting up, nothing.

“Fuck.”

Shrugging out of your blazer, you fix your hair up in a messy bun to get it out of your face and pop open the hood. But it’s useless, everything looks to be in working order. Leaving only the possibility of the alternator or battery having died and left you stranded. You’re sure you have a reader for the battery…at home in the garage. The card shoved in your back pocket burns into your skin, prompting you to pull it away and dial the numbers printed in a nice font.

Two rings and it picks up.

“Santigo, it’s Angel.” He doesn’t ask what’s wrong or if you’re okay. Only your location.

“I’m just down the street, turning back around now. The parking lot just behind the building?”

“Yes, I- thank you, Santiago.”

“No problem at all, hermosa.”

“You said you need engineers? Where exactly?” He’s looked over the mechanics of the vehicle just as you did, diagnosing the problem exactly the same. Something unable to be fixed at the moment. He glances up at you under his long lashes as he types out something on his phone, an instant response buzzing.

“Someone should be here in a few, my friends are just down a few blocks. One of them owns a gym and we hit up the dive bar across from it every Monday.”

Nodding, you try to recall the buildings he’s talking about. But you haven’t explored as much as you’ve wanted too. Throwing yourself into work and trying to play catch up on building secondary savings. The help to purchase a home welcome, but the house needed work that was only discounted, not covered.

“There’s a flight school not too far outside the city, where recruits are sent. They need some help that isn’t gonna up and leave them, assignments are up and they need someone reliable.”

“I don’t know how to fly.” Fleeting hope deflates and you really wish your emotions weren’t so easily pulled from you. The weekend you spent hiding away proved to have been more draining than you anticipated. But he soothes the furrow of your brow with two fingers and a hint of his teeth as he smiles at you, so close you can feel the heat of chest.

“They’ve got a few solid instructors. Fish has been pulling doubles doing the repairs and the lessons. They need a mechanic and an engineer, something tells me you’d be the perfect fit.”

You can only see the genuine way in which he’s willing to help reflected back at you, his eyes open and his smile charming. A smile is spreading across your own lips falters as the sound of a vehicle turning into the lot catches your attention. There are two figures visible through the windshield. A blonde man is backing into the spot your truck faces, concentration steeling his features. And from underneath the bill of a worn hat and through a pair of dark aviators, Frankie Morales is staring at you.

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[intermittent-showers]

My opinion of the sOciAl mEdiA hAbiTs oF ThE cAsT aNd cReW oF 911 - using "logic."

Kenny and Co. posted a controversial video joking about casting couches and clearly shows Ryan "getting the role" for his "performance." This was coming off of that podcast Ryan did for Lab & Lecture.

Now, I think it's important to mention the podcast, seeing as a big portion of the interview discussed Ryan's role in The Boy Next Door, which Ryan starred in with Jennifer Lopez and there were rumors about the two of them being together. [X]

And I'm sure the cast and even the crew poked at him (friendly) about it, thus it being fresh in their minds. (I am not defending them just stating my thought process regarding their thought process).

I also want to shift towards the actual podcast itself. It was done now, meaning Ryan is well into his role as Eddie, and yet Ryan was never asked that million dollar Buddie question. And that's strange because this podcast is new, Ryan's episode was only S1e8 for the podcast. Now I ask you, if you're an up and coming podcast looking for traction, why wouldn't you gear it towards those fans? Why wouldn't you bait when a majority of the twitter journalists live to bait.

Could be because Ryan is friends with the guy. The interview was very "bro-y." But it could also be that the Podcaster wasn't allowed to ask about it. Cause 911 was discussed. Instead of talking and the one topic that would guarantee clicks and views, instead they talked about Ryan's boundaries and how he won't do certain things.

Inch resting... yet, moving on.

Then Ryan suddenly gets on twitter the same day that the casting couch video was posted. Which really made no sense to me except for obviously a distraction from that video, but then I thought about it for a few days and I think I might have a reason for it.

I don't think any of the cast really pay attention to comments. I hope they don't for their own mental health. But I do think the comments on that casting couch video were brought to their attention. And I think it started a discussion amongst the trio.

Kenny isn't really a social media expert (lol) so I'm assuming he doesn't even know wtf twitter is.

Oliver will never set foot on that app ever again so he wasn't about to go look.

But Ryan... well, Ryan's been on a heterosexual Eddie Campaign since the 5th episode of season 7. So I believe he wanted to see what was happening.

Type in "Ryan Guzman" on Twitter, and all you'll see is "Buddie this" "Buddie that" Eddie Diaz is unfrosting" etc etc. Nothing about the character of Eddie, that Ryan is happy to portray mind you, is being discussed.

And that has to be annoying. It has to be upsetting and even a bit gross.

I feel as if this discovery sparked a conversation. Not that they haven't discussed the Buddie of it all before but I think Ryan probably asked, "Am I not being clear enough?" "Am I leading people on?"

What do you do when your talent genuinely has these questions?

You contact the people who know statistics for the show. The PR team.

And they look into it, seeing all the weird ass takes and Wizard of Oz theories. That combined with the Olympics, they posted this to the 911 on ABC page:

1. They could have used any variations of the award ceremony for this post but they chose to include all of them.

2. The busy bees they are referring to are the fans... not the characters. They're saying the fans have been busy making theories of S8. They've seen them so they added the tornado emoji to say, "we see your theories and they're fun but completely off track." They have to be poking fun because if those fan theories were remotely close, they'd post something to distract from them, not shed more light.

So I believe the cast and crew enjoy reading the crazy theories. I think it's something they've started doing in between takes to pass the time.

So when Ryan posted that tiktok to his Instagram story, it was another example of him having a laugh at the completely wrong theories.

Only positive for these things is that thanks to most of fandom going off the rails, I'm confident we're going to see something this week that will be Tevan related.

So, thank you! Keep the delusional takes coming!

[raelle-writing]

Was it even Jin's video that got posted???

I've been staring and trying to make sense of the angles in Keng's office for the past hour so I decided to do a write up and see if I can make sense of it... something is WEIRD.

WARNING: this post contains screenshots of SA, all those will be below the cut:

So when we as the audience are shown the shots of Keng and Non, we're shown two different angles. The first one, when Jin first opens the door, is of Keng and Non's legs. The second is of their heads/faces.

In earlier episodes we're shown a bit more of the layout of Keng's office, shown here:

But the angles just... don't make sense? When you analyze them. Like for example, here's what we see in episode 6 when Non comes to see Keng. The angle shown is of Non leaning decently far into the room, and then still only being able to see Keng above the barrier

When the video is uploaded to social media, we see this as the thumbnail, which appears to be shot at a low angle BETWEEN the two barriers. But that angle doesn't make sense when shot from the door.

You can see it in this shot of Jin recording, it looks like the extruding corner is in the way of whatever he's shooting.

Not to mention, in the shot of Non showing up to that office, the book shelf is pretty obtrusive of the view of what's happening. It seems like, in order for the shot of their heads to be what's shown in the thumbnail, the person would've had to be further into the room

Add on to that, the couch itself is way too small for someone to be able to see around the barrier one way AND the other way. So basically it was impossible for someone at Jin's angle to see BOTH the legs around one end of the barrier AND the heads around the other.

With the corners, the bookshelf, and the angle in mind, it seems to me that the only angle it makes sense for Jin to have seen and recorded without going further into the room is that of the legs, not their faces...

Especially since he records low, but the thumbnail picture is basically the same height as the couch... which to me, looks lower than where Jin is holding the camera

Conclusion: ????

Honestly I'm not sure. Maybe this was just BOC getting clever with their angles and shooting and they didn't think people would dissect the layout of the room this hard. I AM sure that Jin could only reasonably see the legs or the faces and not both.

And as I said above, the angle of the door and bookshelf and barriers lead me to believe that Jin could've only really seen their legs But then that brings up the question of how did Jin even know it was Non? He's angry enough that it seems like he did... unless he's angry in a completely different direction and is mad that a teacher is taking advantage of a student, but that doesn't seem to fit either, since the anger on his face seems personal...

Plus I want to bring this back. Top saw Keng and Non together and texted Tee that he knew where Non got the money. They could've guessed or spied on them to guess what Keng asked for in exchange. And who has the money to set up a hidden camera JUST to screw over Non? Por. I'm not saying that's definitely what happened, but Por HATES Non and wanted to get rid of him. I don't doubt Por/Top/Tee would hesitate to release that tape of Non if they got the opportunity...

I'm definitely grasping at straws, but something about this whole situation doesn't feel right. Jin isn't shown to post the video himself, in fast there's discrepancies from what's shown on his computer screen vs what's shown of the person uploading the video.

Changing a computer from light mode to dark mode is incredibly easy so I don't know why they would've left a mistake like that instead of fixing it in post-production. Plus it looks to me like Jin is looking at the already-posted video and crying over it, not that he's posting it himself (first screenshot is from the BTS for this episode btw).

I've been on the "Jin didn't post the video" train the entire time for a couple of reasons:

Jin isn't shown to click the button, only sit at his laptop, cry, and then eventually spill alcohol on it and short it out. If the writers wanted us to hate Jin then they would've just shown him posting it so that we could deal with the fact that he's a shit person. They didn't do that, so I don't think that Jin posted the video.

Because in episode 4, Flukes yells at Tee that he knows what they did, and he names both the broken camera AND the released video... but Jin wasn't present in this scene. Why yell it at Tee if Jin is the one who both took the video and posted it?

But with the question of all the angles shown and the doorway and bookshelf it makes me wonder... was the video even Jin's?

[gooeyslime]

I will die on this hill but William Afton being a good dad would have worked so much better at making him feel realistic instead of becoming a cartoonishly evil man and honestly the juxtaposition of like, witnessing him kill a kid, dropping his cheerful Springbonnie act as he locks them in a room, just a cold glare as he kills them, making the player go "what a heartless monster... I feel so bad for his kids, having to deal with such a piece of shit" as we see him get out of the suit, cleaning up the blood and head home, as he opens the door once again we see his attitude change as he tells his kids "Dad's back home!" And we see them run up to him, Michael playing it cool bc he's an angsty teen but you see him smile as he points out he's late, you can tell they all care for him and got worried, after all there's a murderer on the loose and while they seem to target kids who knows? They could kill adults too... William smiles at them, genuinely, not like the smile he gave his victim whith his Springbonnie act, they all eat dinner together and if you hadn't just seen him kill a kid in cold blood you'd think this was a normal family, just a single dad eating and chatting with his kids... As he makes sure they are all sound asleep you see him walk into his bedroom, looking at a picture, it's a picture of all of them, smiling together, next to William is a woman and it dawns on you that she's nowhere to be seen and that she might be dead and he's trying to figure out how to bring her back by killing a bunch of random kids bc nothing can stand between William Afton and the only people he cares about, not even death itself... that stuff would make me way more scared of him than any "oh I am so smart I planned for you to try and set me on fire again so now if anyone scans my parts into a computer I can brainwash a random person and get them to rebuild myself ooooh I always come back!"

Like even showing him before he completely loses it would be terrifying, how he's just a normal guy who has his own troubles sure, but still isn't going around killing kids to study weird ghost stuff... Not yet anyway... And the the last straw happens and he falls to the deep end and you wonder, if you were in his shoes... If you lost the love of your life... And everyone just tells you life goes on and you just gotta get over it... What would you do? Would you also break? Would you go as far as killing someone in the hopes to bring her back? To put your family back together? And as you do that how would you handle your family breaking apart even further? Your daughter killed by YOUR machine, the machine you built to kill kids, the machine you desperately tried to keep her away from? Your older son acting out, angry because he couldn't handle his own sorrow at losing his sister shortly after his mom, he's falling apart just like you and in a moment of anger he ends up killing his younger brother, your other son killed because you couldn't see that your older son couldn't handle his own grief too? What would do then?

Stuff like that is utterly terrifying to think about... At least for me... Shame they made him so evil he's basically a Saturday morning cartoon villain now, he could have been so terrifying in so many ways but instead they made him an annoyance... Like even him coming back post Pizza Sim could have been terrifying if he wasn't such a joke by then, like we thought we finally defeated him but he's back, because he still hasn't done what he set out to do, put his family back together, and absolutely nothing can stop him from doing just that... Instead we get him showing up in 1 (one) ending and he's just... Walking around... Then he stares at a monitor and eventually he hacks Freddy by... Holding out his hand like he's using the force?? He doesn't even have a jumpscare either... I really hope the DLC at least gives him that bc him being threatening again is almost impossible after all the peepaw jokes people made...

Anyway I'm sure you can tell I have very strong feelings about this and so many thoughts for plot points that could be added to the lore if this was canon but I'll shut up for now before I write a whole essay lol

[genericpuff]

saw this pop up on /r/UnpopularLoreOlympus and I-

Full analysis post that inspired this post can be read here, it's a good read, go check it out!

Now my natural reaction to not assume the worst (shocking, I know) is that what Rachel's actual intention behind making Leto a sun god was due to her being Apollo's mother and her clearly having a stronger relationship with him rather than Artemis. I'm abiding by Occam's Razor here, it's the simplest answer and it keeps my brain from getting too riled up right off the bat LMAO

There's a lot of emphasis put on Apollo being the god of the sun in LO, despite the fact that Apollo is one of the MOST prolific gods in the Greek pantheon, Rachel only ever really focuses on him being god of the sun with some loose references to him also being the god of music (as we see with him playing his lyre). There's really no real referencing to him being the god of medicine though (aside from that scene of him condom-bandaging Persephone's hand in Episode 22 ?? which is silly now in hindsight because she's a fertility goddess who can heal herself but ok lmao and the fact that Rachel established him as a LITERAL DAD with his doctor son Asclepius which ... just feels weird to have in LO tbh) and there's absolutely no referencing (from what I can find or recall) of him being a protector of the young, god of prophecy (for some reason he just magically gives Kassandra the ability to read prophecies... just so she can read his prophecy ??) or archery. Like, he's shown doing a lot of these things but they come across more as just side hobbies or extensions of him being Artemis' brother (like his archery) rather than aspects of his godliness or domains that he presides over. It's just like yeah, Apollo can shoot arrows and bandage people's hands I guess LMAO

All that said, I can see Rachel deciding to make him primarily the god of the sun and then going "oh! let's make his mom a sun god! then she could be a common enemy for both Persephone and Hades!" because Hades doesn't like sun gods yadda yadda.

But... we know Rachel has used front page Google sourcing in her comic before.

(literally the 'source' was copy pasted from a 2004 study guide for Princeton.edu. And we KNOW this was taken right from the first result because it just says 'www.princeton.edu' with no slug attached, which is what showed up back when we first looked into this, the princeton version was deadass the first result with this definition word for word. She didn't even remove the typo where there's no space between Xenios:"Zeus !!!).

And while a bit more into sus territory rather than outright confirmed like the xenia thing above, there's the whole Metis / Métis theory, that has us wondering if Rachel seriously googled "Metis" on its own and accidentally used Indigenous Métis cultural depictions in her version of Metis, the Greek God.

The fringe in her outfit, finger wings, and dark orange/red color really got my attention the first time I saw her design years ago, because she set off so many, "Wait a minute, is that an Indigenous woman???" bells in my Mi'kmaq/Cree brain LMAO And not even in a bad way, but now it feels a little :/ because of how much her character has been assassinated and how clearly accidental it was for her to look like that.

Of course, there's still a more likely explanation that her design was based on this vase:

But IDK y'all. That vase is very distinctly orange while the character itself is depicted in dark garbs and with light skin, so Metis being distinctly red-toned with finger wings and fringe?

While the Xenia thing is definitively copy pasted from the first search result on Google (literally there's no denying that at this point, Rachel's REALLY bad at doing research and then pretending like she was being smart by sourcing it from a university website... completely ignoring the fact that that website literally hasn't been updated since Rachel was working on The Doctor Pepper Show) the Metis and Leto depictions are definitely a lot more up for debate as to what 'research' Rachel did and whether or not they got confused with something else during her searching.

And really, the whole thing with Leto being a "sun god" doesn't make sense really when you think about it. Why is Leto a sun god? It's not even like you could argue there are "some versions" of the myths where she's a god of the sun, or other translations out there, or whatever vague source that could be used like what has been used for other gods like Hades and Persephone. Leto is not affiliated with the sun in any shape or form. Remove Apollo, her eventual son, who didn't exist when she was born and given the title of 'sun god', and it quickly falls apart as to why she would be a sun god in the first place.

She is a goddess of motherhood though, and that's NEVER mentioned in LO. If anything, Rachel makes her a terrible mom on purpose. Because god knows we can't have anyone in this comic be a good mom except for Persephone and Rhea (who are literally just carbon copies of one another). Basically the only thing Rachel gets right with Leto is the fact that she's a Titan and that she had Apollo and Artemis after sleeping with Zeus. That's it.

Unfortunately, unlike the xenia thing, there's no outright proof of what Rachel's reasoning was behind these designs or sources. So I'm not gonna accuse or outright state it as fact that Rachel confused Metis for Métis or ripped the idea for Leto being a sun god from an anime, because the odds of that being true in any way are fairly low.

But they're never zero.

[anachronismstellar]

Another day another scene from >Airplane vs The System< fic.

Should I post this on Ao3? Maybe, but that sounds like a Commitment(tm), and I'm pretending this is not a full fic lol so I'm posting here like is just a silly thing

There is a reference to another fun robot from a very good game released in 2007, if you get it I'll love you forever ❤️ fjsjskdjsk

Also, if you squint you can catch my fav mxtx baby showing up as a guest :D

TW: The System being a bully and uh torture? Nothing like canon tho

Hope you like it~!

----

Mobei-Jun became aware of himself slowly, like the first snow of the season. He wasn't able to feel his body, but his mind was there, commanding his fingers to bend, his head to turn left and right. Not that he had much to see, encased on an infinite white that made his eyes water.

Another thing that took too long to remember was how he ended up in such a situation. It was like trying to catch a slippery fish, the memory swimming away from him in the middle of a river of pain.

The only thing that kept him grounded was the memory of warm brown eyes and ink stained fingers. Shang Qinghua's face was a constant flash on Mobei-Jun's mind, but something kept making him flinch, there was something wrong with their last encounter, something that he couldn't-

“Oh, you're awake. Welcome Character_s201,” the Thing that looked like Shang Qinghua appeared in front of him, wearing something that seemed to be An Ding Peak robes, but didn't layer properly, as if the fabric kept melting against itself when the Thing moved.

Not that It moved much, it was like watching the shadow version of Qinghua, the Thing so still It looked like a doll. Mobei-Jun had faced many monsters throughout his life, none that actually chilled him to the bones such as the creature in front of him.

“There's no need to be scared, I won't hurt you,” It said as if It wasn't keeping Mobei-Jun bound to the wall, holding him so tight he could barely breathe. “You are here to complete a set of experiments to gather data. After the experiment, food will be provided, and you will be released.”

He said nothing back, focusing on keeping his eyes wide open. Could it be a shapeshifter? It would make sense, although no shapeshifter he had met behaved like that, they usually did their best to imitate their original forms to not attract suspicion. And a shapeshifter capable of knocking him out would be able to copy Qinghua's eyes.

A beat of silence passed between them, neither of them blinking. Then, as if It was seeing something to the side, it nodded, waving Its hand before changing forms right in front of Mobei-Jun.

Again, Mobei was an experienced demon. He had seen shit, as Qinghua would say, before even becoming Junshang's right hand. And after getting his title of Junshang's right hand, his encounter with weird creatures increased by leaps and bounds. He had seen shape-shifting done by different creatures and by magic, but nothing that could compare to what the Thing did.

It was like watching Junshang create a portal with Xin Mo, but instead of a tear in space and reality, it exploded in tiny multi-colored shards of glass, regrouping itself in a glimpse, the outfit now a neutral green and gray with accents of gold. Its face kept Qinghua's rounded shape, but the hair was mostly down, a small bun on top of Its head being held by a golden crown. The only thing it had kept the same were the eyes, still poison green that made Mobei's skin tingle as if a thousand fire ants were crawling over his body.

“Apologies for creating discomfort. Is this avatar more comfortable for interacting, Character_s201?”

Again Mobei kept his mouth shut. Whatever that thing was, it didn't want Mobei's comfort. He didn't believe in Its honeyed words either, what experiments? Was It going to torture him? What did It actually want?

“Character_s201 experience cannot be improved without proper feedback. Should I undo the avatar change?”

It was like he was listening to the words but couldn't grasp the meaning behind them. The most terrifying part was that the Thing sounded like Qinghua and Consort Shen when they thought no one could hear them. Was that the connection? Was this thing after Consort Shen? Or-

“Wh-” He tried to ask, the metallic taste on his mouth making him cough. The Thing approached, offering a ceramic cup with what seemed to be water, but Mobei wasn't stupid. He turned his face sideways, the movement bringing a searing pain to his neck, nausea and dizziness forcing him to close his eyes.

“There's no need for Character_s201 discomfort. Character_s201 health is important to not skew data results.” It insisted, grabbing Mobei-Jun's face, pressing the cup against his lips until he drank the liquid. He felt feverish, doing his best to spit on the Thing's face, but It did something to his tongue, as if it could control Mobei's body. He swallowed, the water healing his scratchy throat, but at what cost? It could have given him poison, or a truth serum, or-

“Water is important for Character_s201 maintenance. Now, Character_s201 experience cannot be improved without proper feedback. Should I undo the avatar change?”

Mobei-Jun felt himself sag, his wrists and legs burning as they held his weight. He was falling right into Its trap, spending his energy faster, becoming weaker.

“What's… An avatar?” He asked instead of physically fighting, but keeping his glare on the Thing. Which was good, because as soon as he asked, the Thing blinked, possibly for the first time since they had started talking, as if It had been caught by surprise by Mobei-Jun's question.

“An avatar is a graphical representation of a user, the user's character, or persona.” It explained after Its eyes flashed, blinking a couple of more times. “It's what Character_s201 would call my appearance.”

“It's fine,” Mobei-Jun grunted, agreeing with whatever nonsense the Thing was asking. Better a stranger than Qinghua's face, for sure.

“Understood. Avatar preferences updated. Now, shall we proceed?”

For the second time, the Thing pressed Its thumb against Mobei-Jun's demon mark, making the world around him plumb into darkness.

----

OK off I go to sleep now lol byeeeeee

[arienai]

You've heard the Miyazawa memes, now it's time to

Read Otherside Picnic

A post by me

What is it? Otherside Picnic is a book series by Japanese author Iori Miyazawa. They are often called light novels for marketing purposes, but are technically considered "full" science fiction novels. The series is loosely based off of Soviet science fiction novel Roadside Picnic, which itself inspired the film Stalker as well as the video game STALKER.

What is it about? At its core, Otherside Picnic is about two girls who stumble into a weird alternate universe filled with creatures from Japanese internet myths and creepypastas. They go into that world frequently to explore it.

It is primarily a series of novels as I mentioned, however, there are also anime and manga adaptations.

Otherside Picnic is yuri (F/F), explicitly so, however, only the novels have reached this point in the story. If you want canon lesbians, you want to read the novels. I cannot stress this enough.

Okay but what about the characters, are they good? I'm super biased but honestly these are some of the most tumblrina characters I've seen in a while and I'm shocked they aren't more popular.

Sorawo Kamikoshi had a deeply traumatic childhood (though she likes to deny it) and today is a self professed "grumpy otaku" at university who is extremely into spooky shit and creepypastas, which she tends to infodump about. She is very bad at making friends and before discovering the Otherside she often spent her time watching Dark Souls Let's Plays and Minecraft build videos. No, like, canonically. She is a huge loser and I love her so much.

Toriko Nishina was born and raised in Canada with her two lesbian moms but now she's going to university in Japan. She is extremely gay and knows it but is also a complete disaster about it. She has an outgoing personality but struggles to make friends unless she's attaching herself to a new cute girl. I don't want to get too far into spoiler territory but she has a violent streak and has some hot and extremely badass Tiktok Lesbian With an Axe moments.

There are a lot of other great characters too, but you'll have to read to meet them!

And it's explicitly gay, you say? YES, this is a lesbian romance story. Girls hold hands. Girls kiss (with tongue!) Girls ogle other girls' boobs. Apparently the latest volume (not yet available in English) amps it up even more 😳

You're telling me it's literally gay despite being written by the meme "yuri is two wild beasts/a field/etc." Guy? Yes.

Where did the memes come from then? They come from a couple of interviews with Miyazawa where he compared various abstract concepts to yuri. Some of this can be seen in his work, but for the most part it is a straightforward and easy to read lesbian story.

Okay! Where do I read it!: Since they are novels you can find them at many bookstores! You can also buy the ebooks for relatively cheap and read them on your phone.

I hate reading, can't I do the manga/anime? You can if you want but the anime doesn't really go beyond flirty territory with the two girls and the manga is still ongoing and hasn't hit the gay stuff yet. So it's up to you.

Is the series finished? No, it's ongoing. There are currently seven volumes available in English. But we have an extremely dedicated fanbase. Join ussssss you know you want to. Look at these two cuties

Anyway I have so many good things to say about this series, I love the way the main characters are outcasts who come together and help each other learn to love themselves. I love the spooky setting, I love the side characters and of course I love how gay it is, I feel like most weirdo disaster gays on here will find something here to like. And the characters are in their 20's!!! That's still relatively young but it's so nice to read gay stuff about people who are old enough to drink (which they do a lot of).

So yes in closing

Read Otherside Picnic

[thesherrinfordfacility]

i did not break my own heart last night thinking about the missing 1941 scene and have it sat in my brain all of today spinning around like a fucking microwave in order to not make you lot suffer with me. and i somehow feel i may be right about this so buckle up and lets break it down.

so yes, following on from this post, i think that there is going to be a third 1941 scene. twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. it's been literally set up like that by even bringing back 1941 into s2 in the first place. but we're missing a crucial detail because it does not - at all, really - explain how they went from evading danger from hell and having a cosy candlelit bottle of red to celebrate, to the bastard 1967 scene. we all know this, this is nothing new.

the symbolism of nightingales is probably going to cast a shadow on this. these two excellent analyses look at the meaning of nightingales in the context of R&J, and the relation that the song has to this point in time, respectively. in summary; it's a song that should be around in 1941 courtesy of vera lynn and others, and the nightingale itself carries the meaning of love being hidden and forbidden by way of it singing under the cover of darkness, before being replaced with reality and soberness - represented by the lark. the Dinner of '41 scene is set in the bookshop at night; this would parallel - that they are safe and concealed, and truths can be shared, but the writing is on the wall that stepping outside would be to shatter the illusion, so to speak. it might be that the song itself gets miracled up onto the record player, or a wireless lying about - whatever. note: i don't think they'll dance though, not given crowley in ep5, "you don't dance"... but then again, if there ISNT a kiss in s3-1941, an aborted dance seems like the next best option... the cowardly one, but i'll take it

this would also track with aziraphale having his epiphany after the church in s1-1941; specifically, in my eyes, that he doesn't necessarily just realise he loves crowley, but that crowley by way of saving his books loves him too. this is only supported by the whole of the s2-1941 scene of trusting in each other as the only way to pull off the trick, the subterfuge. this is then, again, also important in the context of what i think happens in s3-1941.

i do think aziraphale is going to bring the books up again, and what crowley did, because it needs to be addressed. the Nazis/furfur confrontation has scared him, regardless of whether he saved them both, more than he realised. its put things into startling perspective. i think he's going to bring up the books, and actually question crowley a little more as to why he did it. the repeated use of, and subsequent weird reaction crowley has to, the use of the term "friend" in s2-1941 would indicate that this is going to be a focal point in s3-1941. are they just friends? is crowley disappointed that aziraphale is still referring to him as that, after what he did? 'saving' aziraphale in the church, and then saving his books? or is aziraphale just saying 'friends' so hesitantly in both instances because he's not completely sure where crowley stands?

we as the audience know the answer to this, but they obviously do not. if one of the crucial themes of s3 is going to be resolving miscommunication, it makes sense for this scene to be the first, and last, time they communicate properly... at least, until they sort out the issues that culminated in the Final Fifteen.

so let's say they start getting into a very roundabout way of discussing what they mean to each other. there will need to be the sobering, ice-water-over-the-head realisation however, as s2-1941 demonstrated, that they cannot belong to each other, because they manifestly belong to heaven and hell respectively. crowley is still being spied on, and it firmly places aziraphale in their line of sight too. it's going to bring up the holy water discussion; why crowley asked for it - to protect himself, whether by taking out demons or taking out himself, as long as it means he - and most importantly, aziraphale - does not get hurt.

they actively confess that they want to be together, in a way that is more than they are now. aziraphale wants to, but says that they can't, because it's too dangerous. crowley suggests that no one ever has to know, they can hide it (there, in the bookshop, whilst the nightingale is singing), and even if they are found out, they can run. "hell won't just be angry; they'll destroy you..." // "no one ever has to know".

aziraphale doesn't want to have to hide it, doesn't want a halfway measure- is still thinking in black and white. crowley however thinks that something is better than nothing - thinking in the grey. but ultimately, as long as they are still shackled, they cannot do what they want, and it puts the other in danger. "surely the great thing about being a demon is that you can do whatever you want" // "you sound jealous, angel...". instead, aziraphale promises that the day that they are no longer tied to heaven or hell, they can be together; crowley scoffs, thinking that that will never happen, so they will never happen, "you're so clever! how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?!"

the reason they can't right now is because they could be caught. they would have to skulk around, be ashamed, feel guilty - and aziraphale is tired of feeling like that. because only having crowley in secret would hurt more. not being able hold his hand, or dance with him, or kiss him, unless it was in the bookshop. if hell were to find out, crowley would be killed, true, but if heaven were to find out, aziraphale could be cast out. and if crowley survived hell long enough to see aziraphale fall - he'd never forgive himself, and in a way, i don't think he'd ever forgive aziraphale either.

it's tearing them to pieces, but they have to stop whatever is happening between them in its tracks. it's acknowledged, but it's not named. this gives them plausible deniability; if they called it 'love', it would be undeniable. so, aziraphale asks for crowley to go; asks him to leave before they do something they can't come back from. crowley doesn't listen - crowds him, gets in close, and aziraphale is powerless to stop it. doesn't want to stop it. he's selfish by nature, a selfless kind of selfishness, but he wants this with all his being. and then - "this is too fast, crowley, please don't..." // "im sorry, angel. please... please, forgive me". aziraphale never gets to answer, to grant him that, because boom - the actual first kiss.

so. now that i've had to make you read that, i'm going in for the kill. let's look at everything that follows - and look at how the above might recontextualise it.

1967: the offer of the picnic, the Ritz? ie. the literal lyrics of berkeley square? aziraphale has caved in the interest of giving crowley a weapon to use if all else fails, to protect him, but that's as far as he's willing to progress. everything else is still too painful; he's on the brink of tears, promising that one day they'll be able to do what they want, to be open about how they feel, but not yet. they can't. crowley tries to push, "ill give you a lift, anywhere you want to go..." (him offering again to run away? a second chance to leg it?), and aziraphale reminding him that they can't, he can't... don't make him go too fast again, it's not fair. it also sets up perfectly that aziraphale and crowley don't speak for the next 40 or so years (as far as we're aware) until armageddon is threatened.

bandstand: mostly this is still centred around the apocalypse contextually, but i think with the above hypothetical scene in mind (the offer to hide, to run away, to be together), aziraphale is sent back to remembering their mutual confession that they've nonverbally agreed not to bring up, because it's not safe, and it's too painful. they've skirted around it, and returned instead to a tentative kind of friendship at the beginning of s1, but they're still not safe to address why seeing each other again, being so close to each other and not being able to touch is so painful. anyway - aziraphale refuses their side, but the above scene would re-view this as 'our side can't exist yet, you know this! you know why it can't!', and crowley leaves, again after pushing a bit more than aziraphale can stand.

alpha centauri: basically a facsimile of the above; same steps, same dance. but this time, crowley harks back to aziraphale's foolish (?) hope that they will be together, without having to run away, when the day comes that they don't have to answer to heaven or hell. and aziraphale smacks him right back, echoing crowley asking for aziraphale's forgiveness in kissing him, "i forgive you." crowley knows exactly what aziraphale is getting at, there - he's answering crowley's whispered plea to forgive him for pushing, for trying to force him, for acting in desperation. but he's also not answering that - he's skirting around that very thing, forgiving him like a knife would, slicing back at crowley for not only insulting aziraphale on something that is likely a genuine insecurity of his, but also putting him back in his place, for their safeties, because them being together just cannot happen. not yet.

and "please forgive me" in 1941 might seem out of character, but idk if it is; crowley knows that doing what he's about to do will hurt aziraphale, aziraphale has (hypothetically) told him as much, but he needs to do it - and seeks not benevolence or forgiveness as crowley-the-demon, but actually seems aziraphale's forgiveness, as crowley-the-person. the echo would certainly match the tone given here, in multiple ways:

the ritz: i mean, what is there to say? yes, their song is literally playing on the piano, and heralds the shift in their being out from heaven and hell, the day has finally come where they can - again, going by this entirely hypothetical scene that ive concocted - actually be together as they want to. and the nightingale literally singing outside, but as @shoemakerobstetrician beautifully pointed out, god remarks that it's covered up by traffic. so actually, if we again refer back to R&J interpretation of the nightingale, the love is still hidden, still somewhat under wraps, but can only just about be heard over the noise of the streets outside. the prohibition of them being together, of loving each other, is dwindling. and one day, it'll stop singing altogether. that day is coming, it will come, and then they can do what they please. so whilst the ritz scene may well be a mark of them starting the next chapter, it's slow to take hold, there's still hesitancy - which absolutely makes sense when we see that they are still very tentative with each other come the beginning of s2.

s2 general: aziraphale realises their freedom first; he gets excited by the dance, and being able to show his love to crowley, completely and without barriers, in the form of the ball - what he has read to be the best way to do so. he touches crowley more. he shares his bookshop with him, gifts it to crowley as being his as well as aziraphale's, this safe space that is so wholly theirs that crowley has the power to grant entry. the same with the bentley - aziraphale sees it as theirs, and crowley silently agrees, granting aziraphale the same power. crowley is comfortable in the bookshop to remove his glasses, has a place for them. the bookshop becomes tidier, more minimalist, to make crowley more comfortable in it (it is more cluttered in s1, im certain of it). it might just be the grading between s1 and s2, and lack of clutter, but the yellow is more prominent - his literal favourite colour. everything just screams that aziraphale is ready to make good on his promise from s3-1941.

crowley... for once, is the one not quite catching up. not realising the little dates here and there are literally poses them as a couple (although yes, the coffee shop one is to prep crowley for the goob jumpscare), that aziraphale has granted him the power to grant entry. aziraphale literally asking, practically begging, crowley to help him hide goob. the mf colour of the walls. the colour of the bentley. it's not until nina outright asks him if they are together that he realises how careless they've been - but wait, is it careless if they have nothing to be careful of? well, arguably crowley does, hell are still hanging around him like a bad smell... but this is what he wanted! this is what he was pushing aziraphale for! so, does he risk it? he's not sure, but he's certainly realising that aziraphale is ready, if nothing else. and by the time the ladies stage their little intervention, crowley finally realises that the confession he started in 1941 now can be fully aired, can come out into the open.

the Feral Domestic: *fingers at temples* i know i have been fairly vocal about my interpretation of this scene, and frankly - until we get this hypothetical s3-1941 scene, i stand by it - but let's say this speculation about the scene is true, and re-examine the key points in the Final Fifteen that would completely turn on their heads in terms of meaning:

literally, harking back full circle to what aziraphale promised in 1967 as what they would do when they could fully acknowledge their love, and what they did as soon as - on paper - they were free at the end of s1. this is however before he's spoken to by nina and maggie, so maybe this is what crowley was planning in terms of confessing fully to aziraphale, but after their meddling he realised that yes, they need to actually talk about it again. he doesn't understand why they're telling him what they are - because he's existed so long in gestures and gifts and not talking, literally dismissed it now as a viable option, that it doesn't even occur to him to try talking again.

which is why he does something brave, and tries to tell aziraphale instead (say it out loud, make it undeniable, put a name to it, "i love you", something that i think was crowley's actual intention before aziraphale interrupts him) when he comes back to the shop... he's so nervous, because it's vulnerable, and because the last time he did, they ended up hiding for 50-ish years.

next up:

now, im reluctant to think that aziraphale lied in the Feral Domestic, because i do think the key thing at work is his paramount need to do the Right Thing (ie. make a difference in heaven). whilst metatron obviously manipulates him, im not entirely convinced that aziraphale wholly sees through it. i don't think he knew that metatron was up to something, i think the shaking off of this naivety is going to be part of his s3 character development. but this sentence - again, especially in context of the hypothetical s3-1941 scene - must on some level frighten him. especially if you take this meta into account, aziraphale must realise at least that they were never safe, even when they were denying what they were and how they felt, it didn't make a bit of difference. now, metatron could have just been talking about the arrangement, not referring to any romantic elements of any kind, but the threat of it? no wonder he pushes for crowley to join him in heaven; he could keep crowley safe there. they could be together, and heaven - in his eyes - would be able to say a word against it.

then:

the fear sets in; crowley was too late in telling him, acknowledging that they could be together, realising what aziraphale was saying to him without words, and now heaven has come for him. plonked them right back where they were in s2-1941, but perversely mirrored; instead of hell coming for crowley with violence, heaven came for aziraphale with kindness. crowley doesn't have a magic trick he can just do on the fly, perform it perfectly when the need for it is greatest, and has to cling to the hope that aziraphale still sees them as the barrier to them, the reason they can't be together. and in true miscommunication fashion, i think aziraphale does see it, but what metatron said lingers, and in addition to being inside the institution, changing it from the inside out, in order to make a difference... he knows that whilst it's exactly the opposite of what they wanted, he needs to make them safe. better to be inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.

but aziraphale doesn't tell crowley what metatron said, because instead he either deliberately tries to deny the implications of it (cognitive dissonance king behaviour), or he doesn't want to panic crowley and is trying to convey to crowley that he can't speak his concerns, not when the metatron could still be watching, and instead just needs crowley to trust him, take his hand, and join him in heaven where they can be safe. doesn't tell crowley that heaven hasn't captured him in shackles again, but he's willingly held out his wrists because it's the safest thing for him, and them, to do.

so it's one thing to look at what crowley's saying, but aziraphale's reaction? before, i just found it to be out of confusion, him not really understanding what crowley was saying, but tbh i never paid much attention to it (david stole this bit of the scene - not to put down my beloved michael here, but he did). and i know others have remarked here that aziraphale is flitting his eyes to the window and looks scared and stressed, but i don't completely think that its because he's scared that metatron is watching (although, now, i will accept with the rug thing and hypothetical s3-1941 in context it is definitely playing a part), but also because he's just starting to recognise that this is a repeat of the s3-1941 scene, "this sounds familiar, we've been here before... oh, we've definitely been here before... oh shit. i still can't do this, not unless he comes with me. we still can't be together, not in the way crowley wants. the way he's trying again, now, to ask for."

but the issue is: crowley wants to run away together. again. and i totally get why, but once again, going back to 1941: it's exactly the solution that will not work. they cannot run from this. heaven, and hell, will find them. they will come for them. it wasn't an option in 1941, it wasn't an option in 2019, and it isn't an option in 2023. aziraphale begins shaking his head - crowley is confessing, but a) aziraphale doesn't run from things, it isnt in his character, and b) it's just putting them back where they started - something that they have to hide. it defeats the purpose.

and this? yeah, im sure on neither side it was meant the way im about to interpret it, more of an unspoken thing, idk... but if the bookshop is indeed their place of safety, and is where they (as far as crowley sees it) can speak and keep their love, it makes sense that crowley is telling aziraphale he needs to stay. the bookshop can be interpreted so many ways - it represents their relationship, or that crowley means him, himself - but what if we looked at it like crowley is trying now to covet it, because it's protecting them? what if he's saying, "well, if you won't run away with me, we can't be free to have our relationship as we wanted it, not unless we stay here... heaven has come for you, has come for us, and whilst they're here we can't move. so what other option is left remain in this bookshop? to never leave it, and what we have inside it, because there's no other option in which we can be together if you won't run with me."

and what if aziraphale is saying, "no, i have an option, and that's to be together in heaven! they won't be able to do anything, not when im in the position the metatron has offered me, that can be our new bookshop... nothing lasts forever - this bookshop won't last forever, it's compromised, and we can't continue to secret away what we feel inside it, it's time to move forward."

welcome to the line that breaks my heart the most in this whole goddamn scene - and tbh i think is fairly self-explanatory in the hypothetical s3-1941 context. that aziraphale is trying, once again, to tell crowley that he is offering himself, letting them be an 'us', as crowley says shortly after - that before he couldnt do it, and these arent the best of circumstances, but they can finally do it and not have to hide in the bookshop. but crowley reminds him, "hey, i was in your shoes, remember. i wanted us to be together then, and you told me you couldn't, didn't want a halfway measure - well, now i don't either. and this will be a halfway measure, because i don't think us being together in heaven is going to go the way you hope it will. i understand a whole lot better than you do." in any case, it would explain why aziraphale choses this moment to look so devastated. this is what he promised crowley, but now crowley - to his mind, in the things left Unsaid - doesn't want it... him.

and then... back to the nightingales. they're not singing at all, not even under the rumble of traffic, like they were at the Ritz. they're completely absent - day has broken, the things unspoken have now been said, and there's no denying them anymore. from crowley's point of view, there was nothing to stop them this time, but if aziraphale won't run with him, then they have to go separate ways, because there is no other way. aziraphale knows there's the possibility that the only place they could actually be safe is heaven itself, that the bookshop was never as safe as they hoped it had been, but that crowley might actually come to see that. but the fact that crowley is resigned to just... returning to 'reality', to a world that's still turning where they aren't together? despite everything they've just said? "we could've been... us." well, that hurts.

and then... the kiss. now. im still of the mind that the kiss was an Issue. i definitely think it was meant out of love and desperation, and out of possibly being a goodbye. this would echo the hypothetical s3-1941 kiss... but it was hurtful. it was abrupt, and harsh, and not at all romantic (imo). it was possessive, and almost cruel. i do think still it was a last ditch attempt, a temptation, to get aziraphale to change his mind, before crowley leaves the shop and returns to the 'real world'. but it hurts aziraphale in many different ways - but with 1941 put in there, too? crowley is just testing his resolve, trying to push him, come around to giving in. crowley asked him to forgive him the last time he kissed aziraphale, and this time - this time, aziraphale is giving him what he asked for.

[killersfool]

hiiii i’ve a wee fluff imagine idea for bobby!! : )

bobby and the reader live together in a flat in dublin and the reader goes to trinity uni to study english literature (or smt else that has like a lot of reading and essay writing anol that craic) and she’s falling behind in a lot of her assignments and it’s all piling up and she’s just all overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to cope.

she ends up breaking down into sobs or shutting down at random points in the day due to stress and rob hasn’t got a clue what’s wrong and keeps noticing these random break downs throughout the week.

basically he comforts reader and helps to organise herself and just all fluffy cute comfort fic <333

If I could flip back time, bend the seconds and go back three years ago, I would do it right now.

Pile after pile of flashcards, annotated books with pastel post-it notes shooting out of the sides, folders of Irish poetry I can hardly understand, tattered photocopies of Hozier lyrics, every work of Shakespeare staring at me from my overcrowded booksheld — dusty, messy, probably even dank. Miss Carter has decided to set three more assignments onto my workload for the week. An essay on crime fiction (I haven't even read the first book on the reading list), my creative writing portfolio and then another essay analysing a piece poetry of my choice. Reading and highlighting Hozier's lyrics of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' is the only thing keeping me going. Phoebe Bridgers blasts through my ears. It's quarter to 11. I need a break. An early night would be nice. Or TV. But do I really want to sit next to Robert whilst he watches his weird YouTube videos?

I kick my table. Not out of anger. Not out of irritation. I just want to see all of my notes topple ontp the floor. They do. Then I'm kicking the table three more times. Or maybe eight. All my flashcards are on the carpeted  floor, next to my discarded, empty packet of pinballs. I'd stolen them from Robert's stash. He'll never find out.

Climbing over my pile of unread books by my doorway, I push open the door. It squeaks. Some oiling would be nice. Trinity college really provides the best for their students! 

I still wish my roommate was also doing English, someone to bond with over shared trauma, to gossip about our nightmarish teachers and fellow students. But no, this guy is doing a degree in bloody mathematics. The complete dichotomy of English. No similarities. No way of comparing the courses to eachother. Him and his terrifying videos that he watches with his shoes up on the armrest, cheek in his open palm, drinking a cup of tea. Like it's that simple. Numbers and sin, cos, tan and circle theorems and whatever tragic nonsense is being spouted in his lectures.

He hardly speaks to me. Three years together and I barely know him. Sometimes I tag along with him when he goes out for breakfast. Once every two weeks. Sunday morning. We talk about school, about friends, about anything that pops in our heads. Yesterday we spoke about music. He originally wanted to pursue a career in music. A band. But they didn't work out. He took a gap year to pursue this group. So he's a year older than all of the other third years. He doesn't let that faze him. When he told me stories about his band, 'Inhaler', I had to lose eye contact, look down at the pink marshmellos floating about in my cup. He looked lost. This wasn't the place for him. He missed the confidence upon stage, the ability of making something out of nothing. Life is unfair. That is when I realised it. Hearing about shattered dreams and names of songs that were never produced.

I also realise life is unfair right now, as I accidentally bang my hip onto the kicthen island, the knife-like corner lodging itself into my skin. It's like the world is against me. 

Sometimes I wonder if Robert thinks I'm an idiot. I feel like I'm an idiot when I walk past his bedroom, hunched over his laptop, headphones on as he works through the most difficult maths questions I've ever encountered in my life. He makes university seem easy. Has his allocated times for study, going out with friends, the gym, practicing bass, going though record shops, meals, watching TV. Everytime he gets home, he drops his things down in the kitchen. I sneak a glance at the big green 'A*' on all of his test papers. I look up to him. His intelligence, his masterful management of time. I'm always too frightened to ask him how he does it. He'll think I'm stalking him. 

Me, on the other hand, I waste time. I don't have balance. I never have time to be with my friends. Always locked up in my room. A prisoner. Essay after essay. Poem after poem. Book after book. A constant cycle I've been in for three whole years. The stress is weighing down on me like a hundred bags of bricks. I need to stop for a second. To breathe in. To calm down.

So I do the last thing I would normally do. I go into the living room and sit beside Robert on the sofa. He's half asleep, jeans cuffed, hair all over his face. He sees me walk in, glances up, eyes big and speculting. He instantly moves his spindly, spider-like legs from the armrest to give me some space. I can hear some sort of maths video playing on the TV. I'm scared. At least it's not English. I'm immune to maths. It doesn't affect me anymore. Whatever logorhythmic scale this American YouTube man is yapping about isn't making my face contort at all — it's like sorcery.

This could be a way of winding down. Maths. I'm calmer now. No changes of focus or narrowing of perspective. No pathetic fallacy or magical realism. Just messes of words that don't really make sense at all.

"'D'you want to watch TV? I can turn this off if you want." Robert has his thumb on the home button.

"Leave it on. I just need a moment."

He dubiously puts the remote back down. He yawns, stretching out his arms and leaning back. I hate it when boys do that. With his parted, manspreaded legs, adams apple bobbing, head rolled back. It's idiotic. Completely idiotic. He doesn't seem too intrigued by Mr American man. The video is a guy next to a whiteboard writing millions of brain-numbing equtions. Robert is nodding along. I think I'm going to cry. I don't know why I want to right now. My hip is actually starting to throb and ache. I look down at my jeans. There's a hole in them. There's blood. It's wet. I hadn't noticed before. It's properly pouring out blood.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I exclaim, hand pressing down onto the cut through my jeans.

Robert swiftly nears me. He's looking at me up and down, hands trying to find a place to move to. It's dark in the room. He reaches for the lamp switch. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm bleeding. Jesus christ. That kills. Fuck me."

He passes me his jacket and says, "Apply some pressure." 

Then he runs out of the room. Fast as a plane. A man on a mission. Long curls dancing to the rhythm of his steps. Mr American man won't shut up about algebraic expressions. He's got a really bald head. Glimmering. 

Robert is back. He has bandages. I don't know where he got those from. Antiseptic wipes, plasters, sweets, even a cup of tea. He was only gone for about five seconds. How did he manage to get all of that? He hands me the cup of tea and sweets whilst asking, "What happened?"

"I walked into the island like an eejit. I'm so feckin' stupid."

"Just breathe, okay. You're not an eejit. I do that every day." 

I have to unzip my jeans to let him check the cut. Which is awkward, to say the least. He's looking at me like a doctor — not really caring about seeing my skin — but I'm still so shy around him. He sees me struggle with the button. He undoes it, fingers coming in contact with mine. They're slender. So very perfect for the bass guitar. Then he's unzipping my jeans. Only the tiniest bit. A mere centimetre of my knickers appear out of the top. Any more than that and I'd be flush as a tomato. I've always had a little crush on Robert. Being stuck with a really smart bass guitarist with the dreamiest eyes for three years is enough to make a person fall. The reason I've been avoiding him lately has been due to that fact. I don't want to make it obvious.

He finds the cut. It's bled through my knickers, making a big blot of dark red. He pulls down the waistband of my pants, prepared to wipe the wound. I have to grind my teeth together to prevent a sob from escaping me. I'm crying. Stressed and hurt and just wanting to dissolve into nothing. The cold draft of wind isn't improving the situation. If only there was no such thing as coursework and I couldn't glide my way through university like Robert. 

More and more blood. I think I might pass out. The blue-eyed boy is knelt down on the floor, knees biting into the carpet so that he can properly see where to put the bandage. 

"So how's English going?" He's not looking at me. Only at the wound. I don't think he's noticed that I'm crying. I don't want him to. I cover my face with bloody hands, accidentally smearing the metallic substance onto my nose. 

I don't know what to say. Do I tell him how much I regret picking it? Do I make this already awkward situation about ten times worse? I hate when people pity me. I hate when I feel like eyes are lingering for far too long when I cry. But when Robert looks at me, it's different. The pools of serenity circling his iris aren't looking down at me with a sort of aristocracy. That's how my English peers stare me down. No, instead, he's looking at me like there's a billion questions rushing across his forehead. He just needs to decide which one to ask. Or to simply say nothing. Like I am. We've both learnt how to cohabit in silence. To walk past eachother and ignore the feathers of conversation falling between us. We're busy. Always busy. Except for those perfect Monday mornings that I always look forward to. Especially the one time when he showed me around his favourite record store. He had asked me to choose him a record to buy. I walked through the entire shop, fingers shifting records, reading unfamiliar artist names. Then, I saw it, the — now bane of my existence — Hozier's 'unreal unearth'. He bought it. He'd told me he only really knew 'Take Me To Church'. I'd leant against the till as he paid and said, 'it'll change your life.' Then he'd locked himself in his room. Through the ever so thin walls — paper thin — I could hear each track hum into my room. I never got the chance to talk to him about the album. I think the thought of bringing it up made me feel sick — due to the English essay upstairs still waiting patiently to be finished.

Now there is an excuse. To talk. I'm injured. I don't want to move. He's still attempting to wrap a bandage over my stomach, then across my back until it's around my torso. I feel his fingers graze my skin with every subtle movement, along my spine, the small of my back, my abdomen, my hip bone. He's still looking at me. Searching. Like I'm a new island and he's an explorer trying to name me.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He finally talks again. His words are throaty, emananting from the pits of his throat. He's still wrapping, waiting for an answer.

"Just college. You know. It's killing me."

He shakes his head. "You're so smart."

"Says you."

He shakes his head. "Look, this might be a bit weird but sometimes when you leave random essays lying around or even creative writing. I read them. They're incredible. Your mind just works in such an interesting way."

I'm at a loss for words. He reads those? Those are usually just failed attempts that I toss aside. Scrap paper. Strange drawings. I don't even want to look at them.

"You get top grades in every test," I sigh. "I'm barely passing. I'm the worst in the class. My professors hate me, I've got so much work, I'm falling behind in every assignment—"

Then I'm properly crying. Sobbing. Breathing so heavily I think I might collapse. Heaving. Sniffling. Covering my face so he can't see me. I'm like a child. Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. I was never good enough for Trinity. Why did they let me in?

Warm arms, press of skin. Just above the wound, over my chest, arms dig into my body, hugging me from behind. Head burrowing onto my shoulders, knees into the sofa. His lips ghost the back of my neck. Tears are falling down. He turns me around to face him. I hate how he's seeing me like this. My cries are usually saved for when he's out with friends or blasting music on his record player. He's never seen me this vulnerable, just utterly ripped into shreds by the hands of life. His scent is making me feel better, the tissue now on my cheek makes me feel better, the quiet words of 'breathe, let it all out, it's okay' make me feel better. He's calming me down. I start to forget what I was even crying about when I look into his eyes. This intense eye contact. Remembering his height. Even sat down, his torso is far longer than mine.

"I've got an idea," he murmurs, peeling his body away. I miss the warmth. I miss the touch. 

"What is it?"

"We should go somewhere. Get out for a bit. Say it's a 'mental health field trip'." He curls his fingers to accentuate the apostrophes."Maybe down to the Cliffs of Moher. When you're all healed up of course."

"Give me a week."

"A week? I'll be the judge of that." He raises an eyebrow, now tying up the bandage.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"I'm actually first aid trained. Did it in my first week of uni." He takes a deep breath, settles back onto the sofa. 

I take a sip of my tea. My eyes are surely blotchy and red. I bet there's mascara all over my face. "Thank you so much."

"No problem at all. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Is there any way I can help?" He's referring to my school work. "I was alright at English in high school. No where near as good as you are. But maybe another opinion might help you."

"I'm really stuck on a Hozier analysis."

"I never told you how much I love that album. It's perfect." His eyes glow like they do when he's talking about something he loves. Usually it's caused by talking about playing bass, but right now it's due to the beauty of Hozier's music. "I learned the bass line of De Selby part two."

"Show me. Now." I don't even ask. It's simply a demand. Anything to take my mind away from that cut still bleeding profusely. A little concert would be nice. Especially if said concert involves watching Robert play bass. I sometimes peek through the crack in the doorway to see him sat down on his bed, pick between his index and thumb, bass guitar on his lap, headphones over his ears. The pure concentration on his face is unparalleled. Notes thrum quietly through the room. He falls into any piece of music.

"Alright." He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Then I'll help with your English."

"Thanks." This is probably the most I've ever spoken to him. I'm mumbling each word, not wanting to look into his eyes.

He disappears once again. This time I hear the thudding footsteps over creaky floorboards. I hear a door squeak open, the faint patter of rain upon the ceiling, the quiet murmur of distant sirens as night blooms. It's tranquil. For a moment, I'm at peace. Until I remember the stack of unread books in my bedroom. I groan into my hands. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and—

He's back. Not empty handed. Bass in one hand, Hozier lyrics and my pencil case in the other.

"I emailed your professor about the trip. I'm sure she'll be okay with it." He's off again. He comes through the door with his amp and lead. He plugs both in. 

"You're a life saver, Rob," I say.

He starts twisting around the knobs on the bass. Volume up. Then he's tuning. He smiles up at me. I think I'm staring. I think he can tell. His long fingers, tattoos, rings. It's all too much. My fingers are restlessly tapping the armrest. My legs are up on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and plays the song. Then I'm lost in the music. His eyes are closed as he slides his fingers up and down the neck of the bass, as he stomps his feet down on the carpet to every drum beat. If only I could go back to the days I'd go to concerts every day. If only I could go back and see 'Inhaler' on a world tour, watch Robert from the crowd, completely in his element. Exhilarated, chanting, knowing every lyric like it's my mother tongue. Sometimes I wonder what life could've been like if the band had worked out. If the world did realise just how incredible they are. But, here, appreciating each pluck of every string, the grin as he watches me. I can't take that for granted. 

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/663370772509802496/do-you-know-what-the-origin-of-the-sold-to-one

So I was looking at this old post of yours (in your fandom meta tag) and has anyone else noticed that Hogwarts AU fanfic and meta about if this or that character from another fandom would be Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw has completely disappeared? I assume that this is related to JKR’s transphobia making her (understandably) persona non grata to a lot of online queer people of the kind who dominate fanfic fandom at least on AO3 (I’m less familiar with Wattpad or other corners of fandom that are overwhelmingly cishet and writing het, and the Bridgerton drama has taught me a lot about just how out of pace a lot of them are with even elementary queer stuff, yeesh). but I was wondering if others have noticed that. It did seem to really start to crater around 2019-20 when she stopped being coy and blaming it on “middle aged moments,” and started openly making transphobic tweets and writing essays about it rather than just “liking” others’. Like when I was into Yuri on Ice circa 2016-18, it was still all over that fandom, even though people were already souring on the actual official franchise stuff such as those terrible Fantastic Beasts movies.

So I’m mostly active in anime, JRPG and Western genre TV fandoms so I was curious if this was also happening elsewhere. I’m also wondering if the fact that actual HP fandom seems to be increasingly divorced from canon (like fanon pairings of characters who never interacted in canon being the most popular lately) is related to this too.

Cuz having a Hogwarts AU used to be a sign that a fandom had Arrived. I remember in 2016 you saw people doing house sortings for the people on the frickin 538 political podcast. Now I never see any of that even with huge fandoms.

It’s interesting to me given that it feels like her transphobia hasn’t dented much of her popularity with non online nerd culture. Like the third Fantastic Beasts movie failed but those had never been good and had been declining in box office numbers already. But the Hogwarts Legacy game sold really well. You still see HP in stores all over the place with other nerd culture staples like Star Wars and Marvel. Still constantly see brands doing collabs. I often find non online friends and family, including many who are genuine allies to the trans people in their lives, who have no idea about her transphobia. Or they’ve only heard a little and assume it’s some weird insular online culture thing that is just fans nitpicking, maybe having heard about some other Twitter “canceling” over nothing and figuring it’s like that. They’re always shocked and horrified when I tell them what she’s actually saying and doing.

--

Interesting question.

For me, as an Old, it just feels like Hogwarts AUs are part of my childhood, and why wouldn't they be less common now? But realistically, if they actually are declining, it does mean something.

There's no way for us to know if the "Would X be a Hufflepuff?" posts are really a thing of the past. That could be a question of whom one follows or of fans leaving one's platform. But we can at least poke at some AO3 tags and see if they show a pattern.

The relevant tags are Alternate Universe - Hogwarts and its metatag Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting.

There are 21,426 works in the metatag. Obviously, not everything uses the tag, but it's a starting point. (Some cursory playing with filters on big tags makes me think that maybe around 3/4 of HP AUs are actually tagged with a relevant AU tag.)

If we look at the AU tag itself, the numbers have come down in the last few years. (This year is obviously only half over, so we'd expect those numbers to be smaller.)

But we have to take into account how big the archive itself was. It's been growing significantly since it opened to staff accounts in late 2008 and then more widely in late 2009, so the overall rise doesn't mean much, but the recent drop might.

It does seem like there's a downward trend lately, but it doesn't look like it's falling off a cliff.

[lookingforhappy]

with the context of how tua s4 handled Viktor can i just say that the TUA: Young Blood book is weird for this

because the show itself doesnt even follow these rules

so i feel like someone is lying or a miscommunication happened or something?

and i have heard people complain (in the context of Viktor Hargreeves) that writing a prequel about a trans person and using their post transition name and pronouns is trans erasure as it ignores the impact of their transition.

after discussing this with my trans sibling we also agreed that it's not needed in a book that is constantly characterising Viktor as a trans person through his inner monolouge and discussing that he feels weird about having long hair and looking femme, and feels more comfortable when presenting neutral or masculine.

they (my sibling) also said that using the masculine pronouns and name in a story set before the transition only further confuses whats an already confusing subject for most people.

and honestly I feel like this passage just illustrates the problem:

"I'm Ryan." Viktor opens his mouth to say his name, then pauses. Dude, the kid on the stairs had called him. Somehow that generic word felt better than being called Viktor ever had. It occurs to Viktor that Viktor is exactly like his Umbrella Academy uniform: Someone else gave it to him, and they never gave him a choice in the matter. And it should fit, just like his uniform should fit, sewn so carefully by Mom, the measurements clear and exact. And yet somehow, it doesn't/ Somehow, the clothes from the thrift shop - the ones he picked out himself tonight - fit much better. "What's your name?" Ryan prompts. "Sorry," Viktor says. "Viktor." He stumbles over the second syllable, so that he has to repeat himself.

in all honesty i do enjoy this book a lot and intend to make fancontent from it because i enjoyed it thoroughly, but overall the way they used Viktor's pronouns and name felt badly thought out and ineffective.

I completely understand that people prefer to use their real name as compared to their deadname when speaking about past events, but in the context of a fictional character, in a book written in present tense set years prior to the characters transition? i feel like those are two entirely independant situations that need to be approached differently. one is about respecting a persons identity and the other is about setting the stage for the character to transition.