#what a leap day

[cancmbyn]

Wow, I am still reeling from seeing this event. One of the most profound dance-music-theatre experiences I have ever had.

If Elle Sofa Sara comes to a town near you, you should RUN to see and hear them.

From the Show notes:

“Elle Sofe is the voice of the Sami people, expressing their efforts to battle injustice and to retain and celebrate their culture, mirroring the experience of many of the world's indigenous peoples, including here in Canada.  We join the procession of the seven women in the show, marching in unity as they invite us into an evening of polyphonic Yoiking and powerful movement.”

The clips on Youtube do not do this Sami choreographer and the troop justice. Nonetheless, I will post to get the word out there.

Different (better) costumes inside and out than shown in the clips below. The performance started outside in -15 degree weather, before following them inside to the theatre and it ended with the seven dancers leaving the theatre.

I want to run away and join them!

[canisalbus]

gothic lolita machete came to me in a dream

.

[lesbiancalavicci]

Quantum Leap (1989-1993) // Planet Of The Bass (ft. DJ Crazy Times and Ms. Biljana Electronica, 2023)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey do you think ya can explain Barnaby and his illusion smoke a bit? It seems really cool and I don't remember if ya talked about it in depth before

sure! this got a bit longer than i expected!

so i was thinking that Barnaby seems like more of a hands-off kinda guy when it comes to altercations. would rather sit back and make funny commentary! so if he Had to get involved, i imagine it would be from a distance and still in an Entertaining Way!

thus - illusion magic! for this au i've been picturing that he got his paws on some illusionary herb in his early teens. for making people laugh, you know! and help out with the farm - illusions could distract animals, convince them to move on to different pastures, calm the chickens for egg-collecting, etc!

Ms. Beagle didn't really approve, since smoking is harmful, but lucky for the both of them this particular plant doesn't deal as much damage when smoked as normal smoking materials would - like tobacco! something to do with the magic properties! so Barnaby mostly used it for chores (when his mama wasn't paying attention, ofc - it's still a bad habit in her eyes) and entertainment purposes.

how it works: on its own, it doesn't do much when burned. it's not like illusions will waft out of the pipe's bowl, or that sniffing it will give someone hallucinations. in order for it to work properly, the user has to inhale properly, form the Intent of what the illusion should be / look like / behave, then purposefully blow the smoke out with that thought firmly in mind. the reach of the smoke depends on the force of Intent, and the intensity depends on the amount inhaled. those that breathe it in / are surrounded by it will see hallucinations of whatever Barnaby - or whoever the user is - wants them to! it can be literally anything! whether or not the target is fooled depends entirely on the individual, but the herb is potent enough that most are convinced that what they "see" is real (auditory hallucinations only occur if the target breathes in the smoke)

upsides: this form of magic is great for distractions, cover, deescalation, and that kind of thing. if needed, Barnaby could stop a fight with one exhale! it's a pretty powerful trick! it also means that Barnaby has built up a tolerance to illusion magic over the years, so where most of the party would be tricked, Barnaby would be unfazed. the only one with total immunity to the form of magic is Wally!

downsides: if Barnaby uses too much in too short of a time, it will get to him. and since he breathes in the largest amount - undiluted at that - it can fuck him up! using it sparingly / using repeated small amounts doesn't do anything. the most it will do is make him feel slightly untethered, but he has an easy time ignoring it / shaking it off.

in mild cases of the magic getting to him, it's like a bad trip. his proprioception is messed with (basically he gets uncharacteristically clumsy & off-balance), he feels like he's falling, anxiety spikes, and his vision is just... off! there are blind spots (im talking actual blind spots, not spots of black), things are moving in ways that they shouldn't, he has mild auditory hallucinations. the others can help ground him by talking to him, touching him, and confirming what's real and what isn't.

in bad cases, it's like that but 10 times worse. on top of all of the previous symptoms being worsened, he gets extremely vivid hallucinations, and they're very often not fun! it's a simultaneous feeling of dying, going insane, and not knowing what the fuck is going on. Barnaby loses sense of where he is, who's where, what's happening. he can get lost in the hallucinations - he has no way to know that they aren't real. in these terrible trips, no one can really help him. they can't get through the hallucinations, and if they do, the magic morphs Barnaby's perception of them and they end up adding to the effects. honestly the best thing for him is to let him rest somewhere with as little sensory input as possible & leave him be until he starts to come down. physical contact does help, since Barnaby understands on an instinctive level that illusions can't touch him, but it doesn't help half as much as it does w/ the mild trips. and again, the presence of someone can make the hallucinations worse.

so! suffice to say! he doesn't like using the herb all that often, and it's why he Stays Out Of It unless absolutely needed. he has two pouches of the herb - one with the strong stuff, reserved for emergencies / one with just a tiny bit of it mixed in with Barnaby's own personal blend for recreational/everyday use. (he also has an emergency tobacco stash in his pack, but that's only for when he's completely out of his usual blend <3)

extra lil scribble that didn't make it into the lil doodle post... i broke his wrist...

[wundrousarts]

Mini Silverborn Countdown

If you’ve been around for a few years, you’ve seen me vaguely mention a “Silverborn Countdown Challenge” several times. It’s been delayed and changed as many times as the book itself, lol.

If anyone wants sort of a low-stakes, very chill and spaced out version of this ye olde never tackled challenge to complete in the next year before Silverborn, I propose what I’m doing:

Every 3 months leading up to the initial release, I am creating one thing based on each of the books.

January — Nevermoor

April — Wundersmith

July — Hollowpox

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[findafight]

Currently consumed by the thought of a stobin Hollywood studio era lavender marriage au. They elope from Hawkins and Steve takes Robin's last name (a scandal when the paps find out!) And work shit jobs until they hit it big. (Robin is a trailblazer director who verbally eviscerates people who abused their actresses to get a ""more authentic performance"". Steve is a leading man who shifts into Dad Roles in his fifties. They adopt a gaggle of children so his career isn't as full as Rob's and he is so happy about it.)

They are a power couple for over half a century and eventually come out (Robin as a lesbian who's had a partner since the fifties and Steve as 'just very queer. I didn't have the words back then and now I don't feel like labeling it' and their marriage as one filled with love and respect and caring without romance or sex. Calling it "every bit as real as any other marriage, except we never had the complications of fucking. We loved together and fought together and cried together and lived together. The only thing more important to us than each other are our children and grandchildren, and isn't that what every other marriage is?") to the confusion of nearly everyone because they clearly adore each other and constantly hold hands or sit on laps and call each other soulmates and gaze adoringly across rooms and once said about meeting that they knew, after that first month of teasing and jeering and growing pains, that they'd found the person they were meant to be with. That they'd be together for as long as they were given because to know someone so thoroughly that they know you better than yourself and you know them the same that you barely need to speak but you do for the joy of the other's company is a rare gift to be given, especially so young.

Because they never lied! It's just, people assume romantic intent or attraction when Robin and Steve don't! They're the loves of each other's lives but they are not romantically in love and that's hard for people to understand. Especially a high profile couple who was the Romantic Ideal for three generations. And so when they say they were never involved like that, it's hard for some to believe because those two love each other so openly and intensely and for that love to be something other than romantic doesn't compute.

But on the other hand, they had already been queer icons. Steve 100% played in a heavily queercoded war film in the fifties and Robin had a Way of shooting women and they'd been vocal "allies" since the sixties. They'd nearly come out in the eighties but by then it wasn't just a decision they could make. It involved their partners and their children and grandchildren, so they waited to do so. But they were activists early for queer folk and did their best to fight the good fight (and also 1000% cussed Regan out. As he so deserved)

Idk I've rewritten this post like five times as I was helping my brother move and I'm just. Very emotional thinking of a grand, seven decade spanning, queerplatonic love story in the studio era of Hollywood.

[oatbugs]

pls i need to provide updates

[tetedurfarm]

hey

[fisheito]

how would you eat/cook each nukani character

oh noooooooooo (holds my face in great contemplative agony) u can't do this to me

Eiden: oh mein gotTtTtt getting my hands on eiden would be like receiving an entire cart of summer fresh-from-farm produce. or an entire cow carcass . i would have SO MANY PARTS and SO MANY WAYS to prepare him and every part of him would taste delicious in its own way. there's no way i can ONLY cook eiden one way. i'd have to put him thru every process possible (true to his versatility). i thought about spitroasting him (for the joke) but that's too much eiden for one method. i need to covet him like the king tuna at the fish market as i take him apart piece by piece look. i am frying him like egg for a fast breakfast. i am meticulously grinding him to a paste in a traditional mortar and pestle. i am using him as pesto AND as dipping sauce. i will dehydrate him and drink him as tea. he will be roasted . braised. devoured raw in ceviche. i'll infuse him with vinegars! syrups! oils!! is there a way to make a sourdough starter but it's eidough starter so i can just keep him on my shelf and feed him every day and pass him down for generations? i want eiden for every meal of the day prepared 1000 ways

Aster: would aster taste like blood or the absence of it? hmmmm..... i guess it depends on when he feeds! maybe if i bite into him after a feeding session, he'll burst like a cherry tomato. but otherwise i feel like giving aster the sashimi treatment. put him all fancy on the plate with some garnishes after i treat him with a light citrus wash or smth. a fresh cool flavour!! i'm tempted to make some sort of beverage out of him. dilute him into a fancy mocktail of strange spirits and woody spices. aster juice?!?! looks like pink wine???! i have to treat this one like i'm spoiling him with gifts. he'll probably end up on the artisanal charcuterie board with the fusion jams and marmalades...

Morvay: i feel like he would have a very...particular aroma. he eats a very specialised diet so of everyone in the clan, he has to follow "you are what you eat", right?? my first instinct for some reason is to cure him. like, turn him into prosciutto. if he's gonna have a funky smell, might as well turn up the salt and cure him. tie him up and lock him in the carefully controlled environment of the curing basement. dark... surrounded by other meatbags... slap him around every now and then. slice him up thin and put him on that fancy cheese board with a bunch of other strong smelling foods. slurp him down him with a glass of astringent aster juice to balance out the richness of the morv

Yakumo: soup. he's getting souped. it's only right. might split him half and half into one soup and one stew. maybe the soup will just be a concentrated essence of snek-style broth. like a clear, warming bowl of pho that is DISTILLED YAKUMO and doesn't need much else besides some fave spices to accompany the flavour. as for the stew? i just straight up like stew and it can be so nutritionally complete. so he's going in the classic comfort stew. chunks of yakumo and seasonal vegetables simmered to make a thick hearty pot of glorp. maybe add some alcohol to it if i want to live dangerously. he will sustain me for days to come. anything that i do not turn into soup? i'm going to steam him. a mild little parcel of wrapped yakumo, gently steamed for a hot minute. yakumo tastes best to me when a little wet.

Edmond: to honour his thick sugary ass, i have to turn edmond into some sorta dessert. turn the defrosted ice queen into ice cream? now i could just put edmond in a pot and reduce him until he turns into a syrup but then i would waste all the extra good bits that make up edomon. u need the tsun with the dere and reducing him to pure dere is NOT balanced. he can withstand quite a bit of punishment so maybe i'll whip him up like a custard (by hand FIRST. if that's not strong enough, i'll use an electric hand mixer). turn him into an earl grey creme brulee where u can set him on fire then smack that caramelised crust before spooning out the goopy insides.

Olivine: i feel like i'd wanna enjoy olivine in his least processed form. just enjoy the pure marbled goodness of well-exercised, tender oli. so why not a steak? medium rare to rare? just a little pan-sear and we can chew on him all we want. (i considered searing on a grill, but it's easier around here to get a pan instead of a grill. and oli is all about being accessible to the greatest number of people.) on the other hand, that might not honour oli's nature. he, too, can stand up to a lot of punishment. he might even like it. so part of him can be the relatively unprocessed slab and the other can be a cutlet. that way i can beat him with a hammer, dredge and bread him, then toss him into the deep fryer. to be served with a variety of heavy or creamy sauces.

Quincy: this man is OLD and TOUGH and he probably tastes like every bit of wildlife in the forest combined. then again, he's also always sleeping so does that mean his meat is quite relaxed and i don't have to tenderise forever to be able to chew it? quincy probably eats the simplest diet (no processed microwave preservative type cocktails in here) so he'd be best appreciated in an equally simple dish?? i'd like to skewer him. make him bite-size and cook him over a campfire. alternating with simple salt vs. intricate dry rubs bc i'm not sure which i'd prefer. if he ends up being tough, i'll let him hang out in a savoury marinade for however many days he needs (do NOT make me put a pineapple in there, mister).

Kuya: i lied. **THIS** man is OLD and TOUGH and SINEWY and A BITCHASS to deal with and i bet if i cut him at *just slightly near the wrong spot* then some mystery sac of foul gunk will explode all over me like a punk'd prank. i will take any excuse during the cooking process to abuse this one. grate his rind to infuse in the sauce. mince him for the physical satisfaction then throw him into the blender anyway. toss him violently into a fiery wok and start saute-ing him with every other ingredient ever. i hope you get stabbed by a bunch of pointy carrots. i'll broil him as if he's not already crispy. and I BET at the end of all this work, i'll have somehow have messed up and made him inedible. skill issue. at this point i give up, toss the entire kuya into the pressure cooker, and turn him into stew.

G/Karu: i wanna toss them like a salad (i think they'll have fun with that). i could go the traditional way and make wolf jerky. bring it on the road for a durable snack! if i could somehow chop these two up and turn them into furikake, they could become my convenient, reliable flavour injector for a quick bowl of rice. it's tricky because there are two distinct flavours and they gotta be treated differently to bring out their full potential. but they're also inseparable. what do i do??? i might just put them into my party-type foods where flavours are supposed to mix and it's the wildness of the combos that make it all fun. he's going on the 12-topping pizza!! he's being melted onto the giant tray of nachos!!!

Blade: CAN I EAT THIS? WILL I DIE? WILL MY TEETH BREAK OFF? i have to debone him. i bet there are pointy bits hiding everywhere. get my special tools out and pluck at him for over an hour (i must be thorough). might just put him in the microwave (he'd probably enjoy that). i feel like essence of Blade would also do well as a bubbly drink. mix a simple edroid syrup with some club soda and some edible flowers to look pretty (low calories too!). if the legends are true and blade can adapt to any flavour, i might just turn him into a condiment or special spice mix. grind him to dust and put him in a nice glass container near my stove so i can add him to various foods (the weirder the combo, the better). keep the spirit of experimentation alive with Blade popcorn seasoning!!

Dante: i am gonna make him fragrant as hell. gonna smoke him over intricate spice combos or tea leaves and impart him with the most alluring lung-punchiest sniffs. i don't wanna be too harsh with him but i trust that he'll at least stand up to heat well. he'd probably complain about wasting time, but i'm not rushing the process. u will sit in the smoker and steadily break down over time. maybe after the smoke, i can tuck the odds and ends into a savoury saucy pie. bake him for an hour surrounded by a flaky buttery crust? i might also experiment with some fermentation, like a dante kimchi. i'm curious as to how he'd change flavours given time to age (and just relax for a bit, really).

Rei: i am pickling him. he's gonna become that sour salty lil accompaniment to every meal i have. he'll last forever and somehow never mould and no matter how long i leave him chillin in the fridge, when the time comes to put him on a bun, i know i can rely on him to not suddenly go limp. i still gotta be careful with him tho. can't just stick my fingers in the jar and introduce contaminants all the day because it IS possible to Spoil the Goods idk i just feel like i'd have to let him sit in SOME sort of marinade or brine. if i try to eat him raw i might turn 14 shades of purple before dissolving into radioactive bile

[jovialturtleface]

A new leap forward 🔌 [Version without texture overlay underneath]

[thegoldenhoof]

I think about this interview a lot.

I think about how Jenkins thinks queer romances end up tragic/unrequited.

How these queer romantic characters deserve a happy ending.

How he gave this as an answer to the question about the death of the one character whose arc was very much queer and very much not romantic.

Its great to be able to see yourself in fairytale romances.

It would be still more amazing if those of us for whom romance was not in the picture and probably will never be could see our fantastical queer happy endings too....

But of course... How could you possibly tell happy queer stories without romance. Being queer is all about Love is Love after all /s

[muddysocks]

so excited for leap year day tomorrow gonna do something special

[sagetheenbymage]

🤎Ian Wright Moodboard for @mason-is-my-spouce🤎

(Photos from Pinterest.)

[orcelito]

My nails r getting kind of long. Almost to claw mode. I kinda don't wanna cut them tho bc I kinda wanna paint them for my birthday weekend

Nonzero chance of seeing my mom on mother's day. By my own choice, I guess. And I'm still not sure how I'm feeling about that. But ykno what, it'll be my birthday weekend, and I'm going to make sure to live it to the fullest..!!!