#...just me? h'mm.

[thatdykepunkslut]

about different streaming services: I used to use a paid music streaming service (family paid for it, not me) and I lost access to it a couple of weeks ago. I have since switched to either downloading music or streaming it off Bandcamp and honestly I do not see why people pay for Spotify and shit anymore. like. it feels like there's so much more freedom to how I listen to music w/o Spotify now and it's just been two weeks

Yeah fr! I do use (free) spotify a lot because I have adblock on my laptop and can't find a ad-free audio player for my phone for some reason. But I wish I had a working walkman again bc that'd be way nicer to use when just out and about, I don't have a particularly extensive tape collection but enough of what I like.

h'mm that was definitely a string of words, yeah maybe last night's insomnia HAS had an affect on my coherence

[bumbledees]

nonb(yleth)nary

[dasozelotvonnebenan]

I am at the end of an allnighter, and my the total fuckedness of my sleepschedule is driving me insane so have not one but two whole lists of asks answered for Charrlotte

01. Full name: Charrlotte Weißglut, formerly of Glut (Ember) Warband (Weißglut would be White-ember, but "jemanden zur Weißglut bringen" is an idiom that means making someone really angry)

02. Best friend: Amazingly Aerana of all people

03. Sexuality: straight

04. Favorite color: There is this specific points when a campfire is in it's last embers when the the cracks in the logs turn a deep red that seems to make everything around it look even darker, like it somehowe is swallowing up the colours just to burn for a little longer. That red.

05. Relationship status: Not in a relationship and doesn't want one.

08. Favorite food: The wurm stew they serve at Charrgate Haven.

09. Crushes: Had a crush on one of the members of her own mercenary warband but unfortunately her onject of desire was snatched away by the other flame wielding member of her mercenary warband.

10. Favorite music: Oh Charrlotte is definitely a Metal Legion enthusiast. She doesn't really care for the lyrics and the messages, just for the vibe.

11. Biggest fear: Being forced to do nothing.

12. Biggest fantasy: Currently it's founding another warband again.

13. Bad habits: Drinks while carrying loaded weapons or working with volatile materials.

14. Biggest regret: None really, she's quite content with her past actions.

15. Best kept secrets: Loves reading tacky romance novels. (not goldclaw level tacky, the stuff that tries to be serious)

16. Last thought: H'mm, seem to have misplaced my wrenches again. Eh if it ever needs repairs I'll just blow this piece off. [Proceeds to hammer in screws]

18. Biggest insecurity: Actually quite bad at remembering names and always worried that the names she does remember of people are the wrong ones.

19. Weapon of choice: Flamethrower, second Flamethrower, third Flamerthrower, gun.

20. Role Model: Kalla Scorchrazor

1: their voice: deep and raspy

2: their smile: Bares more teeth than necessary, shown more in the face of danger than in the face of something nice.

3: their greatest achievement: Grabbing some books, stealing a fountain, surviving the siege of Ebonhawke.

5: their shortcomings: Morally black, can't cook for shit but refuses to accept it, not fireproof.

6: how they deal with grief: Set things on fire.

7: how they like to dress: Prefers leather because it's hard to set on fire. Large pauldrons because they make her look bigger. Boots have metal claws for extra grip since she is missing most her toes on one foot. Doesn't care much for bright fancy clothing.

8: what they like to eat: Smokey stuff and meaty stews. Dislikes sweet things.

9: their theme: Old Woman who loves to tell the tales of how she brutally murdered people over a nice cozy campfire. One Charr Army. If you can't do fire magic, store bought is fine.

10: their fashion sense: can appreciate fashion but her own clothes have to be funtional.

11: their family life: The other cubs didn't like her enough to let her be in a warband with them, the warband she did join threw her out after she accidentally killed the centurion. The warband she created herself is mostly dead or disappeared with the exception of Hilda who is retired. Hilda's grandchildren call her Auntie Charrlotte and she visits them from time to time.

13: their embarrassing memory from years ago: tbh that whole accidentally killed my boss and then didn't have the spine to just take his place thing is still nagging on her sixty years later.

14: how they react to burning their tongue on food: eh, happens

15: how they react to a brainfreeze: oh god oh fuck make it go away ahhh

16: their dreams: varied, but quite often recollections of past adventures with some random people strewn in that weren't there originally.

17: their ambitions: Prove the rumor that Charr, or at least Charrlotte, is immortal as long as they don't die in combat by making other people die in combat.

18: how they sleep

the absolute best screen I have ever taken

19: their reaction to betrayal: Fierce and relentless. Her disdays for betrayal is seconded only by her deep rooted hatred of people that ask too many questions when someone's telling a story.

20: their reaction to a mystery love letter: read it, chuckle, throw it in the firepit

21: how they react to pain: Refuses to acknowledge to the point where it often causes more damage that when she'd just have someone look at it quickly.

22: what they’re like on two hours of sleep: Brain too slow to stop her from doing stupid stuff. Somehow the best state of being when you want to repair a chopper but useless for anything else. There is one thing that she allows herself to be the old person with, and that is sleeping a lot.

23: how they act when they’re sick: Absolutely hates it and will complain constantly and to everyone.

24: what motivates them: She likes to have fun. Thats pretty much it. Charrlotte is Marie Kondo with a flamethrower. If it does not spark joy, it sparks the ignition charge.

25: why you enjoy them: Rediculously armed old charr lady? hello?! also allows me to tell tales of her adventures which is really fun.

[sanguinarysanguinity]

@mothdads prompted on Discord: 

How about modern day au bush having to rescue hornblower from an ikea store after he gets inextricably lost trying to find new drawer pulls

"There you are," Will says, and Horatio blindly reaches behind himself, his eyes still fixed on the display of drawer pulls in front of him. A second later Will clasps his hand, his fingers closing as smoothly around Horatio's as if they had no other purpose in the world, and then Will is at his side, warm and steady, the antithesis of the bewildering array of crazy that surrounds them. "I thought the store had eaten you," Will continues. "How the hell did you manage to get lost in an Ikea?"

"I wasn't lost," Horatio protests, because of course he wasn't. He had stopped to look at drawer pulls. The display furniture upstairs had boasted a confusing array of configurations -- he had gone half-mad trying to sort out what the options for a given piece of furniture even were, let alone trying to choose among the unknown possibilities. And then he'd found the display of all the different kinds of drawer pulls, which had made sense of at least that much.

Except were these all the different kinds? He frowned, trying to remember what he had seen in his tour of the upper level.

"There's a path," Will scolds, still talking as if it was Horatio who had been lost. But Horatio had only stopped where he was standing; it was Will who had wandered on and gotten himself lost. "All you have to do is follow the path."

"H'mm," Horatio agrees, still scowling at the display. Most selections come in a choice of brass, chrome, black, or white. Except the leather pulls, which are a light buff with chrome fittings. The leather pulls are hideous; he can't imagine who might think they are a good idea. Perhaps he should choose a color first, and that would help him select a style.

"God, those leather ones are hideous," Will says, reaching out to touch the offending item, and Horatio can't help but smile: Will has very correct opinions. It's not obviously clear whether Will is meant to grasp the loops or put his fingers in them, and that's another stroke against the design: Will's hands are competency and capability made corporeal, and any object that manages to make him look incompetent is a crime against both man and nature.

A few seconds later, Will whispers in his ear, "Are you satisficing or optimizing?"

Horatio winces with sudden guilt. He had promised Will that he would satisfice -- there were far, far too many possibilities in the store to choose among, and so little basis on which to make a choice. Satisficing is the only sensible strategy. And yet the urge to make the right choice, as elusive as it may be, is inescapable.

Will laughs and squeezes his hand. "I thought so. Here, let me…" He reaches out, hesitates briefly over the globular black Bagganäs -- why oh why is it a different shape than the brass Bagganäs? -- and comes back with a two-pack of the black Eneryda.

They're… fine. They're the very epitome of fine: if there was a Platonic form for a drawer-pull, it would be this shallowly-rounded button-mushroom of a drawer-pull. It's also the most boring drawer-pull imaginable. Although what had Horatio envisioned? That people would sit around his bedroom, admiring the perfect absolute rightness of his drawer-pulls? The thought is absurd. He is absurd. He deliberately swallows back his disappointment: Eneryda is perfectly satisfactory, far better than many options on the display. Which is the point of satisficing. Which is what he had promised Will he would do. It’s fine.

But Will is still talking. "I'll stop by the chandlery tomorrow and pick up some cordage, cover them in Turksheads." Will rubs his thumb over the rounded face of the pull, and Horatio can suddenly see what Will sees: the unutterable boringness of the Eneryda makes it a perfect substrate for Will's fancywork. That plain button shape would be lovely when re-rendered in the woven cross-hatching of a Turkshead.

It would also be a significant amount of work. "I need eight," Horatio blurts, in an effort to warn Will off.

Will only fishes up three more packets. He drops all four in the enormous yellow bag over Horatio's shoulder. Horatio flushes with embarrassment: of course Will heard that as a request, not a demurral.

"I didn't mean--"

But Will only smiles at him, his eyes crinkling in affection. He pecks a kiss to Horatio's cheek. "Call it a birthday present if you wish. And it'll be faster than watching you choose. All the options were terrible anyway."

"Thank you," Horatio says, the words feeling stiff and inadequate. He wishes he had Will's grace, the ability to make a simple gift of himself. To be the boyfriend Will actually deserves.

Will squeezes his hand. "Think you can make it through the rest of the market hall? I'll buy you an ice-cream at the end."

Horatio feels a tangled flash of emotion -- chagrin that he's being managed like a child; pleasure that Will likes him so well despite all his faults, the chief among them his inability to choose a simple drawer pull like a reasonable adult. "I don't want an ice cream," he says, even though he very much does. Or less the ice cream itself: he just wants to be spoiled by Will. It shames him to admit how desperately he wants to be spoiled by Will.

Will just slides him a knowing smile, and tugs at his hand. "I'll let you have a lick of mine, then," he says, and leads Horatio back onto the path.