#says his vet... its... the Angle...

[milkteabinniechan]

*⁠♡Happy Father's Day - Chan

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY membership // m.list

pairing: single dad! Chan x afab reader

warnings: fingering, lots of mouth sounds, angst (if you squint your eyes)

I’ll tell him about you.

Your friend had an adorable three year old. A loud, sticky, energetic three year old. But adorable nonetheless. You had a pretty regular babysitting gig going. A few people around your neighborhood had talked and heard about your services and now you were basically a seasoned vet when it came to entertaining toddlers.

But your friend was a full time stay-at-home mom now and could watch her own adorable, sticky three year old. And now you needed another spot to fill those last bit of monthly bills. So she said there was a new dad at the preschool that seemed like he was struggling. “Struggling”, she said in air quotes. You agreed and asked her to give this new dad your information. Even though you mostly worked with the mothers, money was money.

A few days passed and eventually your phone rang, an unknown number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi. This is Chan. The.. uh.. Dad from Sunnyvale Preschool? I was told you could help me out with babysitting?”

He sounded nervous, or maybe he was just a shy person. Maybe he hated talking on the phone. But did his voice sound sexy? There was a deep, velvety smoothness to the way he spoke. Even between the stutters and pauses. You lingered for a moment, lost in the thought of that voice of his.

“Are you still there?” His voice pierced through your eardrum.

“Shit. Sorry, yeah. I’m here. And yes, I am available. Do you have time this week to set up a meet and greet?” your voice quickly went into customer service mode, knowing exactly what to say, memorizing the script you had made for yourself months ago.

THe two of you agreed on a time and day and said your goodbyes. You took a deep breath and tried to forget the way the sound of his voice made you feel. And you prayed all night that he didn’t look as good as he sounded.

Soon, you found yourself at the front door of Chan’s house. An expansive four bedroom home with one of those driveways that was nearly at a ninety degree angle. The door itself was large with two thin lines of stained glass running vertically down the front. A wooden WELCOME sign layed lazily against the door. A novelty sign you could buy as a last minute purchase at a hardware store. The front door clicked open and Chan stood in the doorway, child on his hip.

“Come on in,” He said warmly, arm gesturing for you to walk inside, “Did you find the place okay?”

Inside was a long staircase leading up to the bedrooms, a chandelier hanging from the top floor and swinging down gracefully into the foyer where the three of you stood. Past the stairs was a long hallway that led to the living room and an open floor plan kitchen. Windows surrounded the rooms in a sunlit blanket that made the whole house seem as if it was holding its arms out to you, embracing you.

The three of you sat down on the sectional couch in the living room. You sat on one end, while Chan and the small child sat together on the other corner. Chan introduced the small girl as Lilly. She clung to Chan tightly, her small, chubby finger gripping onto his shirt as if it were a lifeline. You smiled at Lilly and introduced yourself to her. You held eye contact with only her and asked her about some of her favorite things. You had learned over the years that children appreciated when you spoke to them like you understood them. Like everything they said was important, because to you it was. Lilly lit up and talked excitedly about some of her favorite books, jumping at the opportunity to show you. She ran to her room and hastily returned with a few small books. One was about animals, another was about a tractor that made a new friend. You exclaimed in amazement at Lilly’s amazing books. She was smart and she was quiet, but you could tell she was very well loved.

Chan watched the two of you talk about books and the different noises that animals make. It had been a long time since he had seen Lilly open up to someone so quickly. It made his heart feel full to burst, seeing the way you interacted with his daughter.

“You’re hired.” Chan said as you started to walk out of the door. His sudden decision startled you, usually it took most parents to call a few days after the meet and greet. You smiled warmly at Chan, giving him a firm handshake. The two of you quickly made a schedule of the days you would be working and before you knew it, you were in the routine with him.

Months went by with the three of you falling into this routine. You knew exactly when Chan would get home, you knew the foods that Lilly liked to eat, with her tastes changing by the week. You knew when to have dinner on the table and when to have Lilly in bed. And there was comfort there. A comfort in Chan coming home, in making a meal for him. You loved Lilly, and you couldn’t ignore this role that you were easing into.

“Happy Father’s Day!”

Chan walked in the door to find you greeting him with balloons and a cake on the dining room table. Lilly ran to Chan and squeezed his leg. You stood by the balloons and cake, waiting for his reaction. But for a moment he just stood there. Then, he picked Lilly up, propping her on his hip and walked towards you, embracing you with his free arm. He pulled you in close and whispered a soft thank you against your neck. As he pulled back from the hug, the two of you lingered there for a moment, caught heavily in the tension building thick between you. Later that evening, you walked back downstairs from putting Lilly to bed. You entered the kitchen to see Chan cleaning off the rest of the plates and silverware, blue frosting speckled on forks and spoons alike.

“I hope the cake wasn’t too much,” You spoke softly, moving towards Chan at the sink, “It was Lilly’s idea, she really wanted a cake.”

Chan chuckled softly at the thought of his daughter begging for a cake, with only blue frosting, blue being her current favorite color.

“It was perfect,” Chan stopped washing dishes and turned towards you, “you’re perfect.” Chan slowly moved his hands from the warm sink water, to your waiting waist. His fingers crept along your stomach and landed flush along your back, pulling you close to his body. You gasped at the sudden movement, but your body reacted reflexively to his touch. He took you by the hips and propped you up on the kitchen counter. He moved in towards your legs, spreading them open, making room for him. He gripped your thigh with his large hand and pulled it up and around his waist. Your eyes burned bright at his brazen actions as you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep, possessive kiss. Chan forcefully glides his tongue into your mouth, letting it graze across your teeth. You let out a soft gasp as you feel his tongue slide inside, sending a shiver up your spine. You open your mouth wider for him, letting your tongues tangle together in a slow, sensual dance. You press against Chan, craving more of his touch, desperate for it.

He lets his hand fall lazily down your chest, then your stomach. He easily unclasps the button of your pants and lets his hand slip inside. The rush of warmth from his hand causes your head to fall back, your back arching at his every movement. A low growl escapes from inside Chan’s chest seeing how responsive you are to his touch. He lets his teeth graze lightly along the skin of your neck while his fingers trace hypnotic circles around the entrance of your cunt. He can feel how wet you already are for him and it causes something feral to happen in his brain. He buries his fingers deeper inside you, the sudden impact and pressure causing you to squirm and squeal pathetically in his strong arms.

A small, faint cry comes from the top of the stairs and suddenly the two of you snap back into parent mode. The sound of Lilly’s tiny voice pushing all other thoughts and feelings aside. The two of you run upstairs to find Lilly in her bed, crying from a nightmare.

Chan melts instantly at the sight of his daughter safely lying in her bed, instantly thinking the worst may have happened. He sits on the bed with her and holds her close. He consoles her and reminds her that dreams cannot hurt her, he reassures her that he is here to protect her. That he will always be here for her. But as he speaks, he looks at you too. He looks at you as if he wanted you to hear what he was saying as well, like he was speaking to you and Lilly. That you were both important to him. As if he wanted to protect you too. And love you too. You gave Chan a small nod, so he knew you understood. You loved him too. And you would protect both of them with your whole heart.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo

[annebd]

winter warmers, day 12: mistletoe kisses. ~500 words

Max considers himself a pretty good cat dad. Admittedly, there have been times when the cats have done their darnedest to make life difficult, like when Jimmy got lost for a whole day because he escaped from the balcony or when Sassy got stuck in the utility closet for hours, but those were out of the ordinary!

He buys them the best treats and the most fun toys and gives them love when they want it and lets them be when they don’t. He’s meticulous about their vet appointments, neatly scratching out the dates for their next shots or check ups on a paper calendar, so that even if he ever loses his phone with its built in reminder list, he knows he won’t forget about any important cat related events. He wants the best for them, so when he comes home one day to see Daniel up on a stepladder in the middle of the living room, Sassy perched delicately on his shoulder, as he hangs a sprig of mistletoe above the doorway, Max has a mild moment of panic.

“Daniel, no!” he shouts, and runs over to grab at Sassy as gently as he can. She’s reaching out to bat at the sprig of mistletoe, and Max can already see the calculations in her mind as she determines how best to angle herself to jump up and secure it as a new chew toy for herself.

Daniel startles at the shout, wobbles a little on the stepladder. “Whoa, Max. What the heck?”

Max safely slings Sassy over his own shoulder, where she’s happy to lay like a loose sack of potatoes for a moment, and then steadies Daniel on the stepladder. He looks contrite at having startled Daniel so badly. “Sorry! But, Daniel. Mistletoe is, of course, very dangerous for cats. If they chew on it, they will be very sick. We can’t have it in the flat.”

Daniel steps down off the ladder and gives Max a fondly exasperated look. “I know, babe. You made me sit through that whole YouTube video about it last week, remember? Which is why this is fake mistletoe. See?”

He holds up the sprig for Max to see closer, and- ah. It is, indeed, plastic.

“Oh,” he says.

“Yeah, oh.” Daniel replies, as he hops back up on the ladder and finishes hanging the mistletoe in place. Satisfied that it’s hanging just the way he wants, he steps back down and grabs Max’s hand to tug him underneath it. “Now. As penance for giving me and Sassafras such a fright, I think we both deserve a kiss.”

Max lifts Sassy from where she’s still lying contentedly on his shoulder and presses a kiss to her forehead. She allows it for a moment and then squirms to be put down. He lets her go and, arms now free, he turns to Daniel to pull him in and kiss him properly. Perfect.

“Thank you for thinking about my cats. They love you very much. Just like their dad,” he says. He frowns for a moment and then continues. “But also, you cannot be calling her Sassafras. It is not her name, Daniel.”

Daniel just laughs and leans in for another kiss.

[goldflinches]

the same difference (snippet)

Summary: A friend is a friend, even a few realities removed.

(or: Hob meets a different Dream. He deals with it with as much grace as he can. Which is to say, not much at all.)

---

Square/Prompt: B3 - Obsession | @dreamlingbingo

Rating: Teen

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Notes & Warnings: Show!Hob meets Comic!Dream and Comic!Hob meets Show!Dream (Yes, Based On That Fanart by Alexxuun), First Meetings (Sort Of), Matthew Being A Menace

---

Hob’s day starts with a rude bird.

Matthew, the aforementioned rude bird, announces his surprise visit with a loud “INCOMING!” All before swooping into Hob’s small apartment through the open window, honing in on his toast, landing, and then tearing into it with gusto.

It’s six thirty-nine on another gray, drizzly morning. Hob is still groggy and his lukewarm coffee is mostly on the floor, partially on his shirt. A talking raven is eating his breakfast. Surely, this has to be some sort of ominous thing and not just the actual baseline mundanity of his life. Talking ravens have to be harbingers of…something. Lost breakfasts. Crumbs. Friends who haven’t been in touch for the past three weeks and five days—okay no, it’s too early and he’s too caffeine-deficient for that train of thought right now. Sighing, he tries to pick at the piece of toast Matthew hasn’t devoured yet, only to be met with a quick snap of a beak. “Good morning to you too,” grumbles Hob as he gets up to make his breakfast. Again.

In the kitchen, he hears the telltale susurration of sand from behind him. Hob feels a smile steal across his face immediately, then bites it back almost just as fast. He continues making his second breakfast. As he’s adding another piece of bread to the to-be-toasted pile, he says over his shoulder, “Dream, your bird is eating me out of house and—“ "Oh fuck," croaks Matthew suddenly, “Shit, I forgot—“ Alarmed, Hob whirls around, butter knife and Dream’s favorite brand of strawberry jam at the ready. And he comes face to face with his friend. Or at least, some version of Dream. One with wilder hair and sharper angles, drawn like dancing shadows of tree branches. This Dream smiles with more fang in tooth when he greets Hob with a familiar, resonant tone. “Hello, Hob Gadling.” Hob drops the jam jar.

---

Hob’s day ends with a rude bird.

It had been a long day in a long line of long days and all Hob wanted to do was enjoy a nightcap before sleeping the weekend away. The loud, insistent tapping on the door was not part of the plan. Even as he’s standing in front of the door, Hob contemplates just pretending to not be at home. The hammering on the door gets more intense, almost as if sensing his thoughts. With a defeated sigh, Hob opens a door. And of all things, a raven swoops right in.

It flies down the hall, towards the rest of his condominium with a battle caw, doing a sweep of the space as Hob trails a few paces behind it, utterly bewildered. Ravens are…omens aren’t they? Bad luck or some shoddy housekeeping in this case. He wonders what his old friend would have to say about that, might bring it up next time he deigned to drop by—no, not something worth contemplating right now. At least without a good amount of alcohol in his system.

By now, the bird has perched on his leather sofa, making its mark on the upholstery. Hob slowly approaches it when it opens its beak and, in a clearly American accent, announces, “ALL CLEAR BOSS!” Another layer of confusion is added when Hob hears a deep sigh from the entryway. The raven continues on, “C’mon Boss, you know I had to vet this rando—,” and Hob cannot believe he left the door open. He tunes out the talkative raven as he makes his way down the hallway. On the way, he grabs an…umbrella. It has some heft at least but he’s definitely had to make do with less in the past. Twisting it around in his hands, Hob starts thinking about different scenarios and exit strategies and how he is not in the mood to move on to a new life, whoever is at the door better be ready for his ferocious umbrella backhand— At the doorway stands his friend. Or some other form of his friend. One with a softer lines and sleek planes, like a reflection on the surface of a still, fathomless lake. This version of his friend smiles with only a small curl of his lips, greeting Hob with a voice he misses despite himself.

“Hello, Hob.” Hob grips the umbrella tighter.

[charleslelurk]

omorashi for Carlando if u wanna get weird with it <33

Are we all ready for baby's (my) first piss fic?

Carlando + omorashi

From here

obvi don't read this if you don't like piss

Lando had been drinking Monster all day streaming, caught up in one more round, one more round, one more round with Max Fewtrell. The only thing that had finally dragged him away from his computer was the frankly insane text Carlos sent him from the living room, a risky move considering Lando has been dumb enough before to show texts to his camera without properly vetting them first. 

But the text did the trick, and got Lando to log off for the night and track down Carlos in the house. Which is how Carlos is now knuckle deep in Lando, opening him up while Lando shifts impatiently on his elbows and knees. 

"Carlos, just–ah I'm ready, yeah?"

Carlos presses a kiss between Lando's shoulder blades in response before pulling back to slick himself up and push in. The stretch is a little brutal, Lando overeager for it and rushing Carlos along, but it's bearable and he has what he wants: Carlos's cock in him. He settles more thoroughly down onto his arms, readying for Carlos to move. 

Carlos slowly pulls out and snaps his hips into the backs of Lando's thighs and Oh. Lando was so fucking dumb horny from Carlos's text he didn't take a piss before he dragged Carlos to the bedroom. And he has just realized because he could really use that piss right about now. 

He clenches when Carlos thrusts in again, worried he's going to dribble like a little kid. Fuck. He focuses on the hot pleasure of Carlos filling him, tries not to think about his bladder. It's fine, everything is fine, the sex might not be great for him now but he's going to be fine and he won't have to admit to Carlos that he hasn't pissed in like eight hours. It's fine. 

Lando loses himself in Carlos's steady rhythm and his bladder becomes just a small off pitch note in the background of an otherwise perfectly pleasant song. See? Everything is fine. 

"Dios," Carlos says deeply, folding himself over Lando, miles of skin on skin between them. And it would be wonderful if Lando could just focus on Carlos, but he can't. 

And then Carlos wraps an arm around Lando's middle and pulls Lando up with him, so they are kneeling on the bed together. 

"Fuckfuckfuck," Lando says as Carlos sets them on their knees, the arm wrapped around Lando pressing just beside his bladder, suddenly making it unbearable. Lando has never been more sure he is going to piss himself.

And then Carlos thrusts back in, not realizing Lando's expletives were not positive. 

Lando gasps, and claws at Carlos's arm across his low stomach, shoving it away from its tight grip. 

"Lando?"

Lando is gritting his teeth trying not to piss himself on the bed right here, with Carlos still buried inside of him. He falls back onto all fours and some of the desperation dissipates, the original angle they'd been fucking at helping things. 

"Lando, what's wrong?"

Lando just shakes his head. "It's so stupid."

"What?"

"I don't want to tell you."

Carlos pets over his back. "You can tell me anything."

"No, it's fine, just–"

Carlos pulls out, and something about the sensation, or maybe it's the way he does it so slowly, carefully, that stimulates something, and Lando literally puts a hand on himself so he doesn't piss on the bed. 

"Lando? Are you hurt?"

Lando grits his teeth as the feeling fades, the desperation going back to the level it's been at since Carlos pushed in the first time. "I'm fine."

"Then why are you holding your cock?"

Lando closes his eyes. "Cause I thought I was going to piss."

The beat of silence only confirms what Lando feared, that it's so stupid and childish and he was too busy being horny and Carlos thinks he's an idiot now. 

"Do you think you could?"

Lando opens his eyes and furrows his brow. The mattress shifts as Carlos moves to Lando's side, to see his face. "Could you?"

"Like yeah, I'll just walk to the bathroom now, but it's sort of a mood killer, yeah?"

Carlos licks his lips. "No, like… could you… here? With me… in you?"

Lando's brain whirs like a tire without traction. "What?" Lando takes in Carlos's face, how dark his eyes are. How earnest he looks. Lando looks down. His dick is still hard. 

"Or not… if that's too much–" Carlos starts. 

"How would we clean the bed?"

Carlos blinks. "There is a mattress cover on it. From when Piñón was a puppy, and not being trained yet."

Lando swallows, hard. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, like… I could."

Carlos nods, hair bouncing so a single strand falls over his forehead. "You should… still try to hold it. As long as you can."

"What if I am going to come?" Something tells Lando there is no fucking way he will be able to hold it in if he comes.

"You will not be making it that far."

Lando scoffs at Carlos's confidence, but when Carlos grabs his face and kisses him, he melts and forgets the jibe he would have punctuated the scoff with. 

When Carlos pushes back in, it's somehow worse than before. Lando doesn't know if the desperation levels are stacking on one another, or if the reprieve of pausing sex made the second time that much worse but Carlos was right, there's now way he's making it to orgasm with this piss still in him. 

This time when Carlos wraps his arm around Lando, he wraps it higher on his torso, but he pulls Lando backwards and into his lap, their legs folded under them, Carlos popping his hips up into Lando as he just tries to hold on. 

"I–I'm–"

"Try," Carlos says with an upwards curve to his voice. "For me."

Lando really does. Try. But it's a losing battle. 

With a particularly sharp thrust of Carlos's hips, Lando loses control. 

"Fuck." Lando is glad he isn't facing Carlos, knows he would be even more embarrassed than he is right now if he could see Carlos's face even if Carlos is into this, because it just feels really fucking wrong to piss yourself. Lando's cheeks burn, and he closes his eyes. 

Carlos's words cut through the embarrassment and make it a little hot though. "Oh, Lando. That's–"

Lando can feel the piss trails running down his thighs, and onto Carlos too. The room is quiet enough he can hear the piddle noise, the drops. He doesn't know if he wants to cry or if he's turned on by how Carlos is still fucking up into him with shallow thrusts. 

"So hot, Dios Lando, I–" Carlos stills and Lando wonders for a moment if he's coming, but Lando doesn't feel the hot pulse of Carlos's come in him, just Carlos still beneath him, and Lando realizes Carlos froze to stave off his own orgasm. Lando is suddenly fully hard again, despite the embarrassment, despite the way tears had prickled at his eyes for a moment.

Lando clenches around Carlos and he hears a gasp near his ear, then Carlos's teeth gently pressing into his shoulder. "Lando."

"Please move."

Carlos starts thrusting again and Lando gets lost in the rhythm, almost forgetting about his sticky thighs and the wet bed. He focuses on his orgasm building in him, of his cock beginning to leak against his stomach. Carlos is making deep sounds behind him, straining. 

Carlos comes first, already close and turned on by Lando's accident. He fills Lando, spilling inside of him and sloppily continuing to thrust until he can't. He pulls out and reaches around Lando with a shaking hand. 

But Lando is already coming. At this angle, Carlos's spunk almost instantly begins to roll out of him, and there is something blisteringly hot about the mess on the bed and the mess in Lando and it has him spilling over his own stomach, stripes painting himself up to his pecs, moans on his tongue. Carlos keeps him from falling into the piss puddle, shuffling them to the side to lie together for a moment, catching their breath, before he pulls Lando off the bed with him for a shower. 

"The sheets," Lando says when he properly sees the darkened area for the first time. 

"I'll buy new ones."

[bonkwosher]

OMGOMGOMG… i saw your dan stevens character x reader post and i’m literally the happiest person alive over how accurate they are 😭😭💖💖 if you don’t mind me requesting (holding back sending so many requests in the future): how would frank/trapper/david react to a partner with stuffed animals/plushies? (as somebody who has a bunch of sanrio ones and kinda gets clowned on by some family members for it 😭) 🥺 + maybe what stuffed animals they’d give to their partner as a gift? THIS ONES SO SPECIFIC BUT 😭💖

A/N: I'm so incredibly glad someone enjoyed my headcanons that much. Also, please send me a million requests it would make me so happy (no pressure). Also Also, I loved reading your reaction through hashtags in your reblog lol

Pairing(s): Travis "Trapper" Beasley x GN!Reader, Adam "Frank" Barnett x GN!Reader (Separate), David Collins x GN!Reader (Separate)

Contains: The boys reacting to the reader having stuffed animals, the boys giving you stuffed animals, sex mentioned with Frank but barely, Frank being a dork, Trapper being a sweetheart, David being a good listener

Frank:

I have a feeling Frank might be a little weirded out, for lack of a better word, at first, especially if there are a lot of them. If you've got a couple he'll be fine with it but if there's a bunch he'll just be a little confused as to why they're important at first. Like this man can't grasp why you have an attachment to them.

As you spend more time together he'll pretty easily get used to them. If they have names he will only refer to them by name, he won't call them stuffed animals, plushies, stuffies, etc. He becomes like the dad that didn't want a pet, then cut to the dad absolutely loving the pet but never admitting it.

Like you two go to sit on the couch together to watch a movie & you left a stuffie on the couch & he fully treats it like a human. Like he nods at the little guy & goes "Gerald," in greeting before scooting the plushie to the side of the couch.

If you store a bunch of them on your bed, he definitely refers to them as "the fellas" regardless of their genders if they have any. Like he'll climb into your bed getting ready to cuddle you & acknowledges them saying, "What's up fellas?" Mainly because it makes you laugh.

He definitely does not like them facing you two when you're having sex or making out. He will turn them to face the wall one by one if he has to.

After finding out that you like plushies so much I think Frank would be the kind of guy to buy you one before he goes on long heists. He did it once & that made you smile so he kept doing it. The first time he brought you a little one, a white cat with yellow spots.

"You know, I'll be on a business trip the next couple days & I thought this one looked like me so I thought it would be a good idea. Now you don't have to miss me or whatever."

You definitely agreed that it looked like him. The little cat had a scowl & everything.

Trapper:

Trapper probably has an old stuffed animal from his childhood that's being held together by many different stitches & still sits on his bed to this day. So when you tell him you have stuffed animals he's not even phased, actually, he shows interest in them.

He wants to know their names, & if they don't have names he wants to name them.

There was a time when you & Trapper had gotten into an argument & he gave you some time to cool down & he stayed in the bedroom. The door was left ajar & you heard some quiet talking. After getting the right angle you manage to catch the man talking to your pile of stuffed animals that lived in the corner of the bed about how sorry he was & how he didn't mean to upset you.

As you watch your hand accidentally knocks the door a little causing it to squeak on its hinges. Trapper immediately turns to you, his face flushing when he realizes you were there. "I'm sorry, your stuffed animals are just really good listeners."

If any of your stuffies get ripped or you find a hole in one you better believe he goes full vet mode. He's had to do stitches before so sewing is nothing. He will play hard into the vet thing to make you laugh, especially if your stuffed animal getting ripped is a big deal for you. He'll whip out a stethoscope, wrap the limb that got ripped in some paw print bandages, etc. He also loves any praise about him being good at his job so please give him some.

I feel like Trapper's stuffie gifts would come with a story. Like the day he took out King Kong's tooth he probably got you a King Kong stuffie & told you all about it. Now next to whatever stuffed animals you have you have all the titans of the world (at least the ones he's worked on) in plushie form.

David:

David, like Frank, will probably have a little bit of a tough time gathering what makes them so special to you but he would probably just straight up ask you. David loves listening to you talk about just about anything, especially when it's something you care about. So when you tell them why they mean so much to you, it only brings him joy.

I imagine before you were even partners & he was heading off to the army (He would not have left if he had the guts to ask you out), you gave him a small stuffed animal to remember you by. As he was getting ready to go & everyone got a little teary-eyed, he swore to you that he would keep that little stuffie until he saw you again. That little guy survived a war & when David returned, you best bet that little guy was alive & well in his backpack. He stays with him in that big ass green backpack to this day.

Whenever you're away on business or don't get home till late, you'll arrive home to see David cuddling one of your stuffies to help him sleep. He claims it has the slightest smell of your perfume/cologne/etc & it reminds him of you.

If the collection grows past space on your bed for all the stuffies, David will build you a shelf for them. You won't even ask him to. He'll just see that you have space in your room for a shelf, you'll off-handedly mention you're running out of space on your bed for the stuffies, then he'll put two & two together & build you that thing. An added bonus, he'll probably be in a tank top or some shirt that shows off his arms on the hot summer day he decides to build it. Maybe even shirtless.

I feel like David wouldn't get you any specific stuffed animals. He would just wait for you to mention the ones you want, literally run across town to get it for you, then run back & it appears in your flock of stuffed animals the next day.

[sepublic]

I have to wonder about Camila's life and backstory, leading her to the beginning of The Owl House; For example, was she the (grand)daughter of immigrants, or an immigrant herself? For what reasons did she come to the U.S.; Was there a promise of adventure and freedom that didn't entirely pan out? I could see there being additional parallels between Camila and Luz, if they both came to another 'world' and met someone who really made them feel at home, with Camila's person being Manny.

It isn't exactly canon, being revealed in a unreleased episode that no longer fits with established lore, but Homesick (which seems to have been originally written as a Season 1B episode) reveals that Manny was a hospital driver. Now this is also mentioned alongside Camila being a nurse, when we know now that she's a veterinarian.

But the idea could still be repurposed into HC territory; Camila met Manny, as someone who also shared in the same career. Given her compassion towards animals, it seems Camila chose being a vet because she genuinely enjoys and believes in that work, so it makes me think of how Luz wanted to become a witch, and then found belonging in fellow witches like Eda or Amity, who helped to validate that choice for her by participating in it with Luz. Maybe Manny did the same for Camila, as someone who was also compassionate in helping transport people to medical assistance, and I assume ambulance drivers must also be knowledgeable themselves too!

Looking at it from one perspective, you could say Manny was Camila's Eda, as someone more confident who helped encourage Camila into being her fullest self, making her feel at home as a fellow weirdo, etc. And by extension, Luz is her King; Someone younger that she helps guide and look after, a kid with lots of big fantasies they want to play out. And on Manny’s end, he could be Luz, while Camila is his Amity, as someone less confident about embracing herself, only to find that courage upon meeting Manny. He too would share in the immigrant experience of coming to a new world, and maybe he did so with reckless enthusiasm, like his daughter did?

And if Camila's an immigrant, I wonder what sorts of mixed feelings she might have about Gravesfield, and the U.S. as a whole. How does she feel about the Dominican Republic, if she's ever been there? Thinking of those Mother-Daughter parallels, this new home isn't exactly the nicest, and it has many of its downsides; Like the Boiling Isles for Luz, it suffers from the influence of racist Puritan white guys, which exacerbates a hostility to outsiders. But as I've mentioned with Manny, there are still people to find there, and the existence of kids like Masha further cements that because even if viewers can't find a Boiling Isles, they'll rest assured knowing there's still others like them in this world particularly.

Not to mention, Vee! Adopting Vee, who much prefers the human world, could help Camila appreciate her own home by looking at it from that angle, and relate to her new daughter as a fellow immigrant to Gravesfield. Camila still seems somewhat beholden to the human world, since she and Luz still live there; A part of this could probably be attributed to Vee, but I wonder if there are other ties as well, such as Luz and Camila's Dominican heritage?

Do they have other relatives that they're still in contact with, and how do they feel about them? I don't think they're necessarily on bad terms, seeing as how Luz herself struggled with being a loner while still having loving and supportive parents, and her feeling complete with her found family doesn't negate those pre-existing relationships at all; People simply need as many friends as they can get.

Plus, Camila might still enjoy other aspects of the human world nevertheless, such as her Cosmic Frontier novels, or even something as simple as her latin music. Maybe she isn't entirely comfortable with the isles either, given how four years later she's still a bit grossed out by certain aspects of Luz's new Quincenera, but Camila's still open-minded enough to be accommodating and respectful.

And again, that makes me think about how the Boiling Isles has its ups and downs, as well as locals who are cruel without needing the influence of outsiders. This is part of Luz's arc in Witches before Wizards, acknowledging that, while still being able to love it, warts and all. And I wonder if Camila feels similarly about the world she moved to (while also sharing an unambiguous distaste for the government), if there's a lot to Gravesfield and the U.S. as a whole that she doesn't like.

But there are still good parts and good people, hence Vee's friends, her own relatives, and of course Manny. Vee herself likes it, fellow migrants have a lot in common! So there’s an almost begrudging love, like Eda and King talking about their home at the end of WBW. Maybe like Luz, Camila realized the (American) dream she wanted when she came to this new place wasn't going to play out exactly as she expected... But in many ways, it still did, especially because of people who made it feel complete.

So Camila really is like her daughter; A weirdo who felt the need to suppress herself, only to find people who gave her the encouragement she needed. Someone who moved to another place that wasn't exactly perfect, but there was so much to still appreciate, and it's how she met someone who also moved and loved it there, like the Collector for Luz, or Vee for Camila. Two outsiders wandering and looking for a home, and when Luz found hers, she really cemented Camila rediscovering that belonging when she felt emboldened enough to continue where Manny left off, without him.

It'd have been so easy to just have Luz and Camila both renounce the human world, but that would be cultural whitewashing, and keep in mind the antagonist of the series is colonialism. There’s a lot more nuance in them having connections in both worlds that they want to maintain. And I think Vee helps to cement this for Luz and Camila; The latter would otherwise sacrifice staying in her human home for Luz if she had to, but Vee can function as family in the human world to stay in touch with AND a parallel for Luz to reflect on her choices, etc. Mother and daughter navigating two different worlds that they feel beholden to is the immigrant experience; They're still allowed to hold onto their heritage that way, just as in real life they would be considered both Dominican AND American. That's part of the larger theme of not having to choose nor settle for strict binaries, while maintaining your own identity as you explore entering another community.

[bigblueoctoling]

I Hate Octavio With All Of My Heart

I'm genuinely so pissed about Octavio being at the grand fest at all. Like it's genuinely a serious hampering on what is otherwise a really nice event. It's even worse that cuttlefish is there. This genuinely severely lowers my opinion of the Splatoon writers.

So like. On its face, I despise the general angle of going easy on Octavio. It's not headcanon that he's objectively a pretty terrible person for a lot of reasons- like, it feels very intentional that one is meant to read it like Octavio is an old war vet who's artificially keeping the "us vs them" mentality of the great turf war. It feels intentional that one is meant to read him as a very vain and controlling person who actively spreads propaganda (see Splatoon 1). It feels intentional that, at the *VERY* least, what Octavio did to Callie in Splatoon 2 was Bad, if not Morally Reprehensible. It feels like, with the way Octarian society is described in Octo Expansion and Side Order, we're textually meant to read the hyper-militarization of their society as a bad thing.

I feel like, if Splatoon was ultimately intending to present Octavio as a morally grey antihero type of character, they have completely and utterly failed to do so. Merely having him be the leader of Octarians doesn't implicitly make him a good guy just because Octarians are oppressed- Octavio is obviously, on some level, a figure with political power in Octarian society. Octo Expansion largely served to show that the surface world has progressed past the conflict of the Great War- so if Octarians are still facing oppression, that only really falls into the hands of the Octarian elite. If the intent was EVER to imply that that doesn't define Octavio, they made literally no effort to show it.

All of this being said, you could still argue that Octavio's help in Splatoon 3's ending is meant to represent him turning a new leaf- It's an argument that I'd still fervently disagree with, but you could hypothetically make that argument.

Except Splatoon also doesn't make that argument. Literally one line Marie says in the post-game has her posit that Octavio might have turned a new leaf- A line I've always hated, but it feels as though the game has just sort of ignored the busywork of actually showing that any change has been made to the primary antagonist of the franchise and has just leapt to the conclusion because Octavio has done one vaguely morally good action ever- an action done to save the planet, which obviously is also in his own personal best interest.

Isn't Octavio, like, a threat? Like, he literally has a criminal record and is a military leader, why is he allowed at this venue?

Moreover, why are Octavio and Cuttlefish suddenly chummy?

The fact that Octavio is sat with Cuttlefish makes this feel like a cheap, hollow gesture to appeal to the fandom- like, yeah, people like to ship cuttlefish and octavio, but that's not, like... basis to decide what the canon is? Like, you need to actually establish their relationship in the canon first, you need to show them interacting together LITERALLY A SINGLE TIME BEFORE JUST ACTING LIKE THEY'RE BEST FRIENDS WHEN EVERY SINGLE PREVIOUS INTERACTION BETWEEN THEM WAS DIRECTLY ANTAGONISTIC.

And, just to reiterate: I DESPISE the idea of shipping the two of them. Not for any moral reasons, I just personally find both characters wretched people. But like, if you wanted to do this, you should actually do it? Instead of just plopping a literal war criminal in the middle of a venue as if it's totally fine. Like I genuinely despise that he's here. It's so fucking lame.

I think if you actually give a shit about Octavio's character, you should be pissed too. Like... They're just acting like they've totally redeemed Octavio and he's gone through a whole redemption arc when he's done literally ONE GOOD THING EVER, and it was still something exclusively for his personal gain (the planet not being destroyed). This is pretty major character development they're just not actually bothering to do or explain they're just sort of shoving him and cuttlefish together as if that instantly makes them best friends. It's so fucking lame and pandering, it feels like the end of a cheap kids movie where they have a funny dance party and the main antagonist is also there for no reason.

Like, I genuinely gotta wonder, is it my fault? Am I the one who doesn't see the textual evidence of Octavio being a good guy, somehow? Have I somehow missed something? Because it genuinely feels like a complete rejection of how they've characterized him up to this point, to just suddenly act like Octavio has been redeemed and there's totally nothing wrong with being his best friend. Like I feel like I've been playing a different Splatoon Franchise than anyone who'd think that's normal.

[irelandseyeonmythology]

I have been trying to find an answer online but I can't quite find what I'm looking for, if you don't mind can you help provide some insight?

Basically my question is did the medival people of Ireland honest to god believe in pseudo historical texts like the Book of invasions and related traditions. Like they believed in 6 waves of people coming to ireland under Christian cosmology.

Or was this more of a literary tradition for generally understood to be fictional or not quite accurate stories?

So it's been. Months. But if it's any consolation, this DID thoroughly haunt me!

I also cleared it with a colleague of mine who does work on like. Medieval Irish conceptions of history, so it's been vetted by Someone Who Is Not Me, at least the rough outline (I am NOT showing them my Tumblr, god forbid.)

And...for the most part? Yeah. They did. They sometimes argued FIERCELY over little details, like the Tuatha Dé coming in a cloud of mist or whether or not they burned their ships, or whether they were doing it to get away from Lugh. They cited texts that they thought were particularly authoritative, like the Holiest of the Holies, the now-lost Cín Domma Snechtai, they refuted other scribe's suggestions, sometimes very aggressively. I mean, you have scholars into the 20th century believing in this, at least to some extent or another, like Eoin MacNeill in his Phases of Irish History (1919) or T.F. O'Rahilly in his Early Irish History and Mythology (1946). Obviously not in terms of like. The Tuatha Dé as a supernatural race of people, but in the sense of what might best be described as extreme euhemerization, using these medieval texts as a way of trying to unveil a lost Irish pre-history. (It goes without saying this is NOT my approach and not how most of us approach the field, but it was quite common decades ago.)

Geoffrey Keating, in the 17th century, would write his History of Ireland, which used LGE as one of its key pieces of evidence in his attempt to hit back against less than savory accounts by anglophone scholars, of Irish history. "LOOK at our history, LOOK at our glorious past, LOOK at what we can do." It's imminently sympathetic, honestly. (Though Geoffrey shouldn't be taken to be credulous -- he explicitly says that Cath Fínntragha, for example, was not to be taken as a true historical account.) There's a bit, perhaps slightly amusing by modern standards, in his prologue where he says, "Cambrensis [Gerald of Wales], who undertook to give a correct account of everything, appears to have received a medley of fables from some dunce or blind man, for he has said nothing of the conquest of the Tuatha-De-Dananns, who possessed Ireland one hundred and ninety-seven years, during which time nine kings of their nation rules the island."

This is a man who does, firmly, believe in what he's saying and in the veracity of the sources that he has. We also see LGE and the pseudohistorical scheme in general being adopted by Keating's contemporaries, such as Dubhaltach mac Fhirbhisigh (Leabhar na nGenealach) and Roderic O'Flaherty (Ogygia), some of the best scholars of their day and men who...this is my bias speaking, but I trust them. Especially Dubhaltach. I don't have my copy to hand, but the way he speaks about his sources, the way that he's willing to argue with them even as he includes them in his work...I believe him. Or. Let me rephrase that. I believe that HE believed in what he was saying, and I believe in his integrity as a scholar. They're men who absolutely have an angle! But they're men who are using the sources that they have to defend their country from some truly awful slander using the best materials they have at the time, as methodically as possible.

Charles O'Conor, one of the, in my opinion, crucially overlooked scholars of the 18th century, a man who the field owes a massive debt to for his activism and his large collection of manuscripts (some of which, through a story I'll tell sometime if anyone's interested, become the Stowe Collection), was skeptical, saying that Keating's work, "Is a most injudicious Collection; the historical part is degraded by the fabulous, with which it abounds. Keating was one of those laborious Readers, who, in making Extracts, do it without Selection or Discernment; and suchWorks (as the judicious Mac-Firbis observes -- ought never to be published." Personally, while I appreciate boosting Dubhaltach and his work, I think he's too harsh on Keating. It's very easy to judge someone's scholarship when you're living a century ahead of them. He is much more skeptical than Keating, trying to compare native sources up against other contemporary histories of Europe, but he DOES still use LGE as a vital source -- he doesn't discount it or its invasion scheme entirely. He is still very much treating it as a historical document, albeit one that he doesn't fully believe in. (Especially since he's kind of fighting with James MacPherson, of Ossian fame. Because apparently getting into massive public debates with people whose work is enjoying a lot of popularity and that we think involves shoddy research is a time honored tradition in the field.)

But there is a reason why it gets picked up, even into the 20th century, because when you've had your history continually belittled and marginalized, when your language has been driven to the point of near extinction, when you are constantly told that you don't HAVE anything worth being proud of, not compared to the Grand History of England or the classical tradition, that you're a nation of barbarians and beggars...of course you want to believe in it. Of course you want to believe that you can salvage SOMETHING. Especially since these are your ancestors saying it. Your ancestors, reaching across this seemingly insurmountable chasm of time, telling you "look, this is your history." Do I think everyone in medieval Ireland agreed with it? Probably not. There was probably at least one person who was like "well...do we KNOW, though?" In the same way as there were very likely people who thought "King Arthur...did he exist?" Or those oddballs in the modern day who claim the Roman Empire didn't exist. There are always going to be people who are a little skeptical, even of what are the generally accepted truths of a certain time period, but I would say that in general? The trend we see is broad belief, because this is the best historical source that people had for centuries -- they had no reason to strongly doubt it, even if they argued over the details.

[calebwittebane]

ah still caint believe the girl who midjourneys us the backgrounds for the main product shots gets paid about as much per final version as i do for one entire multi-page product specs + e-commerce layout with illustrations and details and Why You Should Choose Our Epic Prodact 💪🔥 essays. no shade to her because she did know what she was doing and the backgrounds were nice and very hi res (she had to work with the full product pics id been given which were SHITE lol she had to enhance them heavily) and she customized them to the very specific instructions i gave her and sent me like 10 versions to choose from every time and generally (the following i suppose is aimed at people who object to any use of generative ai for any visuals ever) the process is just far more efficient than having someone fuckin run out there with the idk tarp tunnel looking for the right Surrounding Foliage and light angle that i wouldve found Acceptable. like i was like yeah girl i need 2pm july/august thinly overcast daylight meaning neutral-warm but no sharp chiaroscuro please and some waist-height pink and purple azaleas for this one and some blue and white hydrangeas of this height and with a light yellow tint on the leaves and darker conifers covering this amount of background oh and can you put a little stone path inside the larger tunnel running thru the middle. and she was like On It Boss. so again no shade to her i think shes been doing a great job. im just saying that i Objectively do more work than she does and i should be paid better than i am LOL

like considering im also tasked with doing all the market research as in i compare web store descriptions and reviews and what specs are sought after and so on. and sometimes im given so little info about the product (which in case its not obvious is not out yet) that step one for me is figuring out how the hell the thing even works by comparing similar products and comparing info and asking for verification from manufacturer if needed. like ok i didnt know how this fucking atomizer worked, and apparently most gardeners in 2024 already do and im stupid, so i had to look at youtube videos with 500 views and in slovak to see someone actually use the thing. anyway ends up i have to finish two entire projects today (thought i had time until 10th but i dont lol) which i only have rough drafts for rn and its doable sure like yeah i can do it before 23:59 which means contractually Ive Done My Job but goddddd i wish it wasnt today of all days like i feel like death and i have to take gaia to the vet later today and its so hot today my cintiq keeps turning into a hot coal

tl;dr I Am Stuck In Garden Tool And Accessory Madness And I Havent Even Been In A Garden Or Any Similar Nice Green Outdoors Area For A Solid Year At This Point

[devinescribe]

Your Girl?

Ch.8 of “My Sunshine” [Treechxreader]

Warnings: cursing and that’s about it tbh 😭

Sejanus left you at your house, and you quickly ran to shower. Your father was out on business so it was quiet.

The hot water felt like heaven on your skin. You scrubbed the dried blood and dirt from your face, washing your hair.

“Sunshine~”

Your eyes shot open and you pulled back the curtain, expecting to see the one person you longed for outside.

“Oh great I’m going insane… ugh I hate this,” you mumbled.

Once you finished your everything shower, you stepped out, grabbing a fluffy green towel. It was your favorite color. It was everywhere without being overwhelming. Your curtains and bed spread were dark green. You had, albeit crudely, drawn some leaves on the window frame.

You dried yourself off, and put some vanilla scented lotion on yourself.

After, you slipped on your robe, doing your hair.

Deciding it was too much trouble to actually style it too much, you left it in its natural (curly, wavy straight) state.

You grabbed a dress out of your closet, not wanting to go in your academy rouges. Of course, a dark green dress with a flared skirt. At the bottom was small little leaf and bird embroidery. The top was a sweetheart neckline and it had puffy poet sleeves. Perfect.

You slipped it on. It reached your knees, so it was an appropriate length for the occasion. Not formal, but also not inappropriately short. If you were going elsewhere… like when you and Sejanus snuck to one of the bars in town… you would wear a shorter dress.

You smiled reminiscing about the stupid memory. You refused to drink, but Sejanus had one sip of beer and threw it up.

Finally being dressed, you applied some lip gloss and smiled at your reflection. Absolutely stunning if you did say so yourself. You looked at the time and cursed.

You had about 40 minutes. It would take you 15 to get there. You huffed, spraying some vanilla and lavender perfume, put on some flats, and took a pair of heels in your hand.

When you got there, you saw the tributes were either talking with their mentors or held by a peacekeeper. You looked in the dark backstage until your eyes landed on him.

You speedily walked over, showing your student ID to the guard before taking him to the back in a corner.

“He-“

“Are you alright? I’m sorry I couldn’t go see you sooner, I heard about the vet how fucking stupid, you got stitches did it-“

“Hey, I’m ok. Calm down,” he whispered, his hands squeezing your shoulders.

You looked down. Tonight would be the last night you got before the games.

It hadn’t really sunk in that your best friend wasn’t in the Capitol for a vacation or a visit. He was here because his name was drawn in the reaping to play in the Hunger Games. A ‘game’ where kids killed other kids in order to survive.

Tears filled your eyes. Through the darkness of the backstage, he could still see your tears.

“Hey, don’t cry. You’ll mess up that pretty face of yours,” he joked, wiping your tears. “You have to help me win the Capitol over tonight, and I can’t do that if people think I make you cry now can I?”

You sat down on a chair and nodded.

“Everyone is doing something different. Some are going to show off how powerful their tributes are. Some how dangerous. Some, like Wovey’s mentor, are going for the feelings angle. We will see what Flickerman sets us up with,” you explained, drying off your tears again.

You began to take your flats off, and were about to put your heels on, before they were taken out of your hands.

“Hey what gives-“

“Let me do this. Please,” he mumbled as he kneeled down on the floor in front of you.

This was so so different than all those times he had offered to tie your shoes when you were kids.

—-

“I’ll help you,” he said with a grin.

You sat on the swing, and pouted. While you appreciated his help, the utter embarrassment of not knowing how to tie your shoes at six was enough to make you hate it.

“You don’t have to be upset about it. We can all do different things. You can read big books, I can tie shoes. You help me read, I help you tie,” he said with the biggest smile you had ever seen.

Although he was a good reader, he’d rather have you read to him.

You launched yourself off of the swing and hugged him.

“Thank you.”

——

“Sunshine, please?”

How could you say no to those pretty begging eyes?

“Fine…” you said, trying to hide the blush that had just taken over your face.

He gently grabbed your leg, softly pulling the heels onto your foot. He fixed the strap, and smiled up at you.

“There…. All done,” he whispered.

You looked down at him and felt your face burning up even more. Now would be a great time to say-

“Alright people, places, we are live in two minutes!”

You groaned.

Treech laughed, and stood up, offering his hand, which you happily took.

Most of the tributes had talked up their skills with weapons. The younger one of course, were played up as being sweet. Lamina went out with Pup, and you were left in the wings. His hand found yours and squeezed it nervously.

“Well, Lamina, I’m sure we are all wondering… after Treech left you for the pack, how did you feel?” Flickerman asked.

You felt Treech look down. He felt guilty.

“Well… I…”

“She was hurt, betrayed, and just so distraught. Wouldn’t stop crying.”

Lamina looked to Pup with confusion written all over her face as if that wasn’t what they had talked about.

“He’s tryin’ to make you look bad. You’re already a Capitol favorite…” you whispered.

The rest of the two minutes went by quickly and you were brought on stage. You both sat on the plush couch and you smiled at the audience then at Cesar Flickerman.

“Well hello there Ms. (L/N), Treech. Now, I wish I could ask all about you, but you only have two minutes, so, the question that has been burning in the Capitol’s mind is: do you have a girl back home? A special sweetheart?”

Treech looked to the audience and slightly glanced at you.

“Well… no. I mean, she ain’t at home, but she wishes she were. And she’s not mine… yet. I mean, there’s not much I can do but hope that I can get back. Even in the games, she’ll be my lucky charm,” he said pulling out the necklace with your grandmother’s ring on it, sort of showing it off. “But I… I hope that I can get back to my sunshine. I’d crawl home to her if that’s what it took,” he said.

The crowd awed and gasped.

“Wait, she isn’t back home, but wishes she were? What does that mean? Where is she?”

“She’s… right here,” he responded, looking down at you, his hand finding yours.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at him.

The crowd gasped, a murmuring beginning to spread through them.

“Well ladies and gentlemen that’s all the time we have for these two. I really wish I could chat more, but off the stage you go!”

You shook Cesar’s hand and left.

Treech was behind you, and when you were off stage you wanted to talk to him.

Had he meant all that? Or was it just playing it up to the Capitol?

You tried to find him, but then noticed only the mentors remained back stage.

“Tributes got taken back to the zoo as soon as they got off the stage,” Sejanus whispered to you.

You jumped at hearing his voice. Even though his tribute was missing, running through the streets of the Capitol, he was still here.

You let out a sigh of relief.

“Told ya he was head over heels for you,” Sejanus laughed.

The rest of the tributes went and it was finally the last one. Lucy Gray.

She and Coriolanus stepped onto the stage. Her cheeks and lips looked decorated, and her rainbow dress was even more bright. She had a beautiful wooden guitar in her arms.

You looked at Coriolanus and saw what he had done. After the bombing, Tigress and him must have washed the dress. Then her lips and cheeks must have had some of Tigress’s rouge. You recognized the shade.

He was extremely smart.

Lucy Gray stepped up to the microphone and began to play her guitar and sing.

By the end of her song you were in tears, leaning on Sejanus.

The crowd cheered wildly, people were crying and everything.

You ran to her as she got off stage before the peacekeepers could get her.

“Oh Lucy Gray that was just… beautiful,” you sniffled, grabbing her hands.

“You really think so?” She asked with a small smile.

“Of course.”

——

It was late into the night when you sneaked into the zoo.

There was not many peacekeepers at this time of night. And those who were there fell asleep.

You crouched down next to the bars and whispered his name.

His head shot up and he looked around before coming over to the bars, his hands grabbing yours. They were warm compared to yours. You were always cold.

“Treech I-… I need to ask ya somethin’…” you stammered out. You didn’t know what would be worse. Him saying he was just playing it up or him saying he was serious.

“Go right ahead sunshine,” he whispered.

“Everythin’ you said tonight…. Did you mean it? Or was it just for show? Because I… I can’t live with this secret anymore. I’ve loved you since we were kids, it just took me way too long to realize it, and I can’t keep writing stupid love poems and letters you’ll never see… So… did you mean it?” You whispered, looking into him eyes with a blush on your face.

“Of course I meant it. I wouldn’t lie to you sunshine. I’ve loved you since we first met… obviously that was puppy love but I-i… couldn’t ever get you out of my head,” he whispered back, one of his hands gently grabbing your face to make you look at him. “I mean, when I told you not to come that one night? It was because I was jealous of Sejanus… the way he touched you…but he told me you didn’t shut up about me… and yeah I guess I’ve always been jealous, but I couldn’t say anything… but yeah. It’s all true. All of it,” he rambled, his eyes looking down towards your lips and back to your eyes.

Your face felt so hot you were sure your blush was visible.

He leaned in and stopped just before your lips met his.

“Is this alright with you?” He asked softly.

You nodded and pulled him in.

“Needy thing ain’t you? Still haven’t learned to be patient?” He teased.

“Oh for- shut up and kiss me,” you hissed.

“Your wish is my command darlin’…” he mumbled before pressing his lips against yours.

His lips were slightly chapped, a contrast to your smooth lips with cherry gloss on them. He couldn’t get enough. Your lips were sweet and soft. And you tasted so sweet, he couldn’t get enough, you would have him addicted to you just from one kiss.

But he slowly pulled away. You looked up at him and smiled, a hand going to cup his cheek. He leaned into it.

“Come back to me… please, I need you,” you whispered, leaning your head on the bars.

He did the same.

“I will… but there’s no place for me here in the Capitol. I’ll have to go back home.”

“I’ll go with you,” you said quickly.

“Sunshine, I’d never ask that you leave what you have here-“

“I have nothin’ here. Sej and Coryo? Father’s barely home and Ma is barely human anymore. Sej and Coryo can visit. I will go home with you.”

He looked in shock as you said that.

“If that’s what you want… I’d be thrilled,” he mumbled with a smile.

“Then it’s settled. I’m goin’ back home with you when you win,” you whispered.

You pressed your lips against his softly once more.

“Yeah… I’m gettin out of there because I have years of kisses to catch up on…” he mumbled against your lips.

You heard some of the guards stirring and got up.

“Good luck, I’ll be watching every second. You won’t die.”

He smiled and gave your hand a kiss before you slipped off into the dark night.

[fellowshipofthenoodles]

So I don't really know what to do, one of my cresties has decided to not use his hides or the plants he usually uses (he squishes himself behind them while he's sticking to the wall) and he's instead opted to just stick to a small empty piece of glass wall and at first I didn't worry because he would stick his tail to the glass but today his tail was hanging like he had FTS, I've been trying to cluter his tank more ever since he started sleeping there but he doesn't seem to care, he'll just squeeze himself back into the same spot, I've been wanted to get one of those 3d printed hides but I don't really know what size I should get, I'll attach two pictures

I just don't know why he specifically likes that spot (also sorry they're blurry, I have really shakey hands) he also frequently uses the plants in the back to hide but he's stopped for some reason. (Also his tail is no longer down because I used a branch above him to pin his tail to the wall, not like it's pined pined but it's just laying against the glass now) also I know the bottom is a bit open, I just re-organized it and I've been second guessing it but if you have any ideas please let me know, thank you.

Sorry for the second ask but I actually got a creative urge and I put in an extra vine, along withe the light vine, and then I put in another big plant, I just tried to clutter it as much as I could in hopes he sleeps somewhere else, and i know its not the best, I have the worst time trying to find stuff, im probably going to put some real sticks in there at some point, I just have a hard time figuring out the type of tree

-

Sorry for a 4th ask but I had gotten a picture of his pelvic region and I was wondering if it was normal, I had panicked because it was so rare for his tail to fall like that, especially at a 90° angle when it usually fell at a 48° angle. Again sorry for so many asks

Hello! So sorry for how long this has taken @crestiegeckos - lots of irl stuff going on for us as well as asks being weird sometimes.

So it’s possible that it’s FTS if he doesn’t often go on horizontal surfaces or doesn’t have enough horizontal surfaces to be on where he feels safe/comfortable - this is why things like branches and bridges are so important for cresties (and other arboreal geckos). For branches you just need something like cork bark or you can use I think Java wood, bog wood or mopani - any wood that isn’t toxic and can withstand high humidity.

However some geckos don’t enjoy horizontal surfaces even with access to them. Some just end up with FTS because they prefer to be on the glass like that - we’ve seen it occasionally in groups on Facebook.

Saying all this though, sometimes gecko tails can and do go at a weird angle with without FTS. We can regularly see various geckos we own with their tails at weird angles, it doesn’t mean FTS it just means they can move their tails and they aren’t always straight out or curled around them.

But I do also have to say that it could be any number of things and we aren’t qualified to say whether or not it is FTS, something else or nothing. If you see it repeatedly or are worried then I recommend a vet visit. Also try not to disturb your gecko too often with enclosure changes, that can cause a lot of stress to keep adding or moving things around and will make it very hard to settle - try to leave it at least a few weeks between each change so he can adjust to what you’ve done already and try not to make changes while they’re in the enclosure.

I hope this helps.

[localcryptidsteg]

So there was kinda a script for the comic but I suck at script writing so I made an entire drabble instead

Mei sat across the table, looking far too amused. She was struggling to keep the smirk off her face, eyebrow raised, as she leaned against her hand and questioned a very tired Mk.

"Sooooo. Explain again why our mystic monkeys are wearing the cone of shame?"

Mk groaned and rumpled his hair with a heavily bandaged hand. "So Macaque has been dead for like forever, and Monkey King barely leaves Flower Fruit Mountain, right? Well something Pigsy said the other day reminded me I needed my flu shot, and I figured 'Hey! Why not get them up to date too!' But it turns out they need ALL of them and a pharmacist cant just do that. Plus theyre like actually actual monkeys?? Apparently??? So I had to track down an exotic vet, but theres only one in the area and they're all the way outside the city-"

Meanwhile, across the shop at the main counter, Wukong had decided he was starving, but quickly realized he had a problem. See, the cone was very much in the way, and while he could take it off... he didnt want to get yelled at. So now he was busy picking away at Tang's resolve. "Come on, just pour the bowl in! It'll be fiiiine!"

Macaque sat nearby, contorting himself at an angle that couldnt be comfortable, just to watch. "You know hes not going to stop until you at least try, right?" "Yeah! So do what he says and do what I say!" "Thats definitely not what I said..."

"- but it turns out Macaque is like really NOT ok with needles so he fucking bit me, but theyd already given him the rabies shot by that point so Im pretty sure it fine! He'll probably only *maybe* kill me in my sleep, but at least its not rabies!" Mk's nervous laughter was cut short by a loud sputtering and an anrgy screech. As Mk and Mei turned to look they were met by the sight of a wet, seething Macaque, Wukong with broth and noodles dripping out of his cone, and a very guilty looking Tang.

Mei slowly pulled out her phone and took a picture.

Mk groaned and let his head *thunk* down on the table. "Nevermind, he's gonna kill Monkey King first.

Bonus: "So now that all thats taken care of, hows your hand?"

Mk flexed the banaged appendage. "Eh. Im sure its not nearly as bad as it looks!"

Across the room, Macaque piped up from where Tang was using a hairdryer on him, "THIS IS WHY YOU RESPECT YOUR ELDERS!"

"YOU WERE TRYING TO HIDE IN A DOG CRATE!" Mk yelled back.

Mei made a mental note to go with them next time one of the monkeys needed a checkup.

[highway-stars]

I just finished house of leaves here's my theory

I've avoided most spoilers and theories in the forums, subreddit etc so there's a good chance this is wah wha baby entry level "aw you're so dumb to think this" shit:

I think the entity that is the house does "exist" in-universe. I think it is a godlike entity. Like Navidson says, the house IS god. The house is the leaves, the labyrinth is its branches; the spiral staircase is the trunk. It holds up the world and the universe and, because it is so incomprehensible, it is inadvertently hostile towards anyone that interacts with it. But it NEEDS people to interact with it. More on that in a bit.

I don't think the Navidson Record was a movie that ever truly existed. I DON'T think it was a matter of a split universe. But I DO think the house is decent at mimicking human-made reality. It does not NEED to look like a house, but it does. It doesn't need to have stairs, or a window, or right-angles, but it does. These traits are uniquely human but the unnerving aspects reveal themselves when it fails to keep up the charade - whether this failure is intentional or unintentional. The larger interior than exterior, the distorting pathways; the horror happens when its mask slips. Perhaps in an effort to coax you into taking a closer look?

I think the Navidson Record is the house's attempt to "write" itself into existence. I think it needs to be beheld by humans in order to exist. We already know that the human inhabitants can affect the space - the hallways shift with the Navidson's emotions; the length of the staircase changes based on the mindset of those walking down it. After all, the concept of god was brought about by humanity, and perhaps it will need the continued effort of humanity to conceptualize and therefore materialize itself. God, or whatever this is, needs us as much as we need it.

Zampanó was the chosen conduit for its story because, as a blind person, he was more able to handle the profound visual horror the house creates. Dark pockets of shadow would not affect him; the looming cosmic horror of the blackness between the stars that Johnny mentions wouldn't bother him as deeply. He also lived alone, with no family or relatives that could stop or disrupt him from his work.

The fake resources, the interviews, the characters that don't exist - I think the house engineered those, as we know it can mimic human creation. It even at times goes "overboard" with itself - citing interviews with Stephen King and Stanley Kubrick, names almost too big to be believable. The timing and action of certain beats seem nothing short of a hollywood action movie at times - especially during the "Escape" chapter. Even the "happy" ending seems like too much to believe. I don't think those events happened, and that the house is perhaps misguidedly creating a mockery of its own story.

I think the distorted formatting and ramblings of things like lists of building materials, photographers, architectural examples, etc, are also evidence of this. The house can create, the house can consume, but when it comes to creating as a human does, it is not without error, as its omniscience and omnipotence seems to get in its own way of being believable and will tend to splinter off into multiple nonsensical directions, much like its hallways.

If Navidson, or someone like him, did exist, and did interact with the house, he did not get his happy movie ending. A passage at the end, in French, alludes to something like "I remember the war less and less" (Navidson was a war vet and also did wartime photojournalism) as well as "my wife, my daughter, my son, they're all dead." He references the house, and a black horse. Maybe Navidson did exist. And, unlike in his movie, his family was consumed. And eventually he was consumed. The house swallowing and destroying Navidson and all memory of his existence from the earth, only to then cough it up in the form of the Navidson Record once there was nothing left to chew on and a new human connection needed to be made.

Why did Zampanó die, and why was the task handed off to Johnny? I'm still trying to figure that one out. Zampanó seemed convinced something was coming for him, maybe he transcribed something he should not have (the entire minotaur section) and was then discarded for someone new. Perhaps Johnny was simply in the right place at the right time. However, poor Johnny, although brilliant and academically able to handle the task, is not nearly as well-equipped to handle a task given from an incomprehensible freaky-god-void-thing, and his mental health starts to deteriorate.

I don't think he just "got" whatever mental health issue was affecting his mom. I don't think his mom wrote the book, either. I think his emotional trauma and addictions made the perhaps unintentional "poisonous" effects of the house all the more potent. It's hard to know what is real and what is fake in that last passage he writes. He forgets Lude was killed in a motorcycle crash. He includes a section about a great interaction with Thumper and how he found a "clue" to the house's existence when he saw a band perform a song called the "five-and-a-half-minute-hallway". I don't think either of those events happened and were closer to an episode of maladaptive daydreaming/wishful thinking as an escape, as he loses sense of what is real and what isn't. But at the same time, who is to say what "real" even means in this context - the house is constantly shifting and writing and deleting bits of reality, and I think trying to sort experiences with it as "factual" or "delusions" doesn't really matter to a certain extent.

I don't think the house intends the harmful effects it has on the people that interact with it, directly or indirectly. I think it is a god that needs humans to exist. It bends the reality around us, but its humans are capable of bending it as well.

[tonyschiavonesearring]

I saw this clip where Cena says Reigns is the GOAT because he's the most cinematic wrestling character ever. These docs are just promotional and WWE vets will say whatever the company needs them to say, but it really made me ask where does Reigns rank. I see Cena's point. Reigns is the most realistic and multi-dimensional wrestling character in a long, long time. Better yet, he demands anyone who works a program with him to be as realistic and serious as they can be.

But while I've been a Reigns fan since his NXT days, he has his weaknesses. I know he can talk. Find one of his heel promos from NXT and you'll hear talk better than he ever has in WWE's main roster. But his character has evolved into a guy who rarely speaks and uses a manager. And he's solid on the mic but never dropped a real powerful mic performance IMO, excluding the time he revealed he had leukemia.

But he makes up for it with some of the in-ring talking and acting he's done, especially feuding with Jey Uso and Sami Zayn. He's excellent in those segments and even powerful when he's trash talking in the ring. He's really popularized that in this era. No one was talking during matches and now everyone does it.

And he's not the in-ring performer he was just a few years ago. Catching COVID really made him a looooot slower and thats when his matches became infrequent and his physique declined. He can't train as hard and his stamina and strength are gone. But his matches have been great still because his psychology is excellent and his timing is so... dramatic. He really is one of the greats, especially at the main event level.

I'd put Reigns above the cliche "GOAT" wrestlers like Shawn Michaels, Undertaker, Ric Flair. Reigns is better than CM Punk's heyday too. But better than The Rock, Steve Austin and Hogan? I think he's just an inch below their level. You know who Reigns feels equal to? Sting. Also, Reigns reminds me a looooot of Raven. Scott Steiner too. And Scott Hall. Reigns is more like a WCW wrestler than an Attitude Era guy. But there are guys better than them. Randy Savage, easily. Misawa. Chris Benoit. Kurt Angle. And maybe John Cena. I hated Cena when I was younger, but now I respect him so much. He really played a tough part well and eventually became an incredible worker who made stars out of lots of guys... and gals. He could cut some great, emotional promos too. It means a lot if a guy can be great when its PG and the locker room is thin. Time has proven that Cena was just better than CM Punk.

[kvlarnet2]

Reptile Movie (Review) and Film Summary

Benicio Del Toro slinks and weaves through Grant Singer’s debut thriller “Reptile,” but the film struggles to develop a confident personality around him, ultimately coming apart at the seams. Clearly inspired by David Fincher’s meticulousness—Singer too is a music video vet and has worked with The Weeknd, Skrillex, Sam Smith, and many more—“Reptile” is overly mannered and precious with its details, but its biggest misstep is its failure to understand that procedurals need to get narratively tighter and not just more convoluted. Del Toro always brings it, and this is actually one of his more intriguing performances in a long time, but one consistently wishes that it was in a movie that knew what to do with it.

Will Grady (Justin Timberlake) is a Scarborough real estate mogul dating an agent named Summer (Matilda Lutz). They flip foreclosures on expensive homes in the area under the watchful eye of Will’s mom, Camille (Frances Fisher), and there seems to be some brewing tension in the relationship. One day, Will meets Summer at a house she’s showing and finds her brutally murdered.

The suspects line up quickly for Detective Tom Nichols (Del Toro) and his partner Dan Cleary (Ato Essandoh). First, Grady couldn’t be creepier—Timberlake leans way too hard into the slimy silver spoon kid background of the kind of dude who lines up a new girlfriend who looks a lot like his dead one almost immediately. Will is clearly into some shady shit, but he found the body, right? Or did he? Could it be Summer’s soon-to-be ex-husband Sam (Karl Glusman)? He, too, is sketched as a few cards short of a full deck, introduced on CCTV footage cutting a stranger’s hair so he can turn it into art. Yeah, he’s weird. That’s not it! The cavalcade of creeps on the suspect list also includes Eli Phillips (Michael Pitt), a guy whose dad got screwed on a Grady deal. Did he kill Summer to get revenge?

As if that trio of potential murderers isn’t enough, the script by Singer, Benjamin Brewer, and Del Toro himself fills out a massive cast with the people in Tom’s orbit, including his wife Judy (an effective Alicia Silverstone), who helps him work angles on the case in some of the film’s best scenes. She’s fearless and intellectually engaged in discussing the mystery. She knows and loves Captain Robert Allen (Eric Bogosian), Tom’s boss, who is introduced receiving an MS diagnosis. Yes, this is one of those scripts where everyone has an instantly identifiable trait that tries to take a traditional character just a bit left of center. It's all over-written, exaggerated stuff that only reminds you that you’re in a movie.

Of course, it’s perfectly fine to be aware of a writer's voice and director’s eye—no one would say someone like Fincher quietly observes—but the problems of “Reptile” comes down to style vs. vision. There’s plenty of style here, but it never feels like anything coheres into an actual vision. The great Mike Gioulakis (“It Follows,” “Split”) slides his camera through these imposing spaces, but to what end? Does it mean anything? The abundant style of “Reptile” is increasingly hollow as its overlong 134 minutes unfold. "Reptile" tries to hold onto too many things at once and lands none of them, leaving subplots unresolved and characters inconsistent.

And yet, there’s that performance in the center. Del Toro is so good here, capturing a man who has seen it all and just wants a peace that won’t come. He doesn’t overplay trauma or experience; he just allows those elements to influence his body language and the stares from those unforgettable eyes. It’s also a playful performance at times as Tom uses elements of his journey into real estate to influence his home remodel. There are some decent turns in the ensemble—Silverstone, Bogosian, Pitt—but Del Toro is on another level, existing in his own space. A space that belongs in a much better movie.

OFFICIAL WEBSITE:

Kvlar NET

Deepl Sport

Usmoviesxb

[skullamity]

As someone who has a cat that is also sick of my shit and will ignore me when she is not in the mood, the difference between her mannerisms and the mannerisms of my actually deaf cat (not a white cat, just like...on a very unfortunate place on his family...wreath....he's got a bit of an over-bite, too) was how we very quickly caught on to the fact that he was, in fact, deaf, before having the vet confirm it.

Even if a cat isn't looking at you, and even if it has learned to tune out noises that don't mean anything to it and won't react to those, if you say its name from across the room or are making noises it associates with you trying to get its attention, generally their ears will swivel in your direction at least a little bit, even if only to confirm that you saying their name was NOT followed up by you shaking a treat bag, so they are free to go back to pretending you don't exist.

I find new cats usually take 2 to 3 months to at least learn whatever name you gave them, even if them "knowing" it is just them understanding that when you make the sound of their individual name, you are more likely to be trying to get THEIR attention than the attention of any other cats in the house. Smarter cats also seem to recognize the names of any other cats in the household, so if I sharply say HAM! because Ham is on my laptop, where he knows he is not supposed to be, Ham will react, and ONLY Ham will react, even if Dusty, my other cat who can hear, is sitting in the same room.

Parsnip...did not know his name after a couple of months. He didn't recognize or react to common "getting the cats' attention" noises like psspsspss or mimicking mama cats chirping at their kittens. His ears didn't swivel when we made any of them, it was like we weren't in the room with him. He plays fine with the other cats but when they get tired of playing, he wouldn't react to Dusty's sudden onset Mountain Lion impression or Ham's sad hurt baby screams (Ham won't bite him back, he loves Parsnip and doesn't seem to want to hurt him? but Parsnip didn't seem to know that he was hurting Ham, so Ham's crying is actually for one of us to rescue him).

He also wouldn't react to noises that normally scare cats, like someone knocking over a glass or the vacuum cleaner or sudden unexpected noises from humans. He didn't come running if he was asleep at meal time even though the other cats come the instant they hear the crinkle of the kibble bag or the kibble hit their metal bowls. You could walk past him having a loud phone conversation while he was asleep and he wouldn't even crack an eye open in disdain of how rude you are for disturbing his slumber, because his slumber wasn't actually disturbed. He'd sometimes seem to get lost in the house if he didn't physically see you exit a room, and he'd just start wailing--I've had other cats that do this, but usually just speaking their name form whatever room I was now in was enough for them to go OH! THERE YOU ARE! and come running, but not this guy.

By then we'd sort of caught on that something weird was going on with his hearing and spent a week sneaking up on him from behind and clapping or whistling or even just going BOO! very suddenly, just to get ANY indication that he could hear us. Nothing! No reaction! We brought all this up with the vet, who couldn't identify any signs that he could hear anything, either, and he agreed that this cat could not hear us.

Anyhow, once we figured that out, we have found ways around things I didn't realise that we took for granted with our hearing cats. If I want Ham or Dusty to come to me, I can get their attention by just saying their name or making a noise. If I want Parsnip to come to me, I get his attention by making a very wide movement with my arms at an angle where he can see me, and once he turns to look at me, I put my hand out, palm up, and wiggle all of my fingers at him, and he comes right away in a way he doesn't with anything else. He's been much harder to teach manners, but we are still working on it. Nothing stops his sad clown wail, though. Deaf cats are unexpectedly LOUD.

All this to say if a cat is deaf, if you have any experience with cats who can hear, you might not instantly know, but you will figure it out pretty quickly because it is a very different experience from what's "normal."

I'm not sure how it is with a cat who used to be able to hear and has gone deaf--some of the signs might be different because they still have habits and mannerisms learned from when they could hear? But a cat who has NEVER been able to hear is going to be noticeably different in many little ways that add up to something being off.

Anyhow, love him, here's the cat tax photo: