#All Kinds Of Delivery Script

[emmabing22]

Making delivery services reliable and profitable only if all scripts are delivered is the best. Could you let me know if you are searching for the best deliveryall script and the necessary feature set? Then this infographic is the answer for you

[mariocki]

Evil Dead (2013)

"I will feast on your soul."

"Feast on this, motherfucker!"

[apomaro-mellow]

steddie falls into porn cliches on accident

Steve was in the middle of washing the conditioner out of his hair, loving the silky smooth feeling and watching the water turn from cloudy to clear as it was all rinsed out. He was ready to start washing his body in earnest now, when he heard the doorbell ring.

For a second, he was ready to just ignore it, thinking it might be a delivery or someone trying to solicit. They could leave whatever they had on the doorstep or keep moving. Then the bell rang a second time and Steve remembered that he was in fact supposed to answer it.

Robin had hired a plumber to fix their sink. She told him they'd be coming between 8 am to noon. Steve had gotten in the shower exactly at eight, thinking surely he had enough time in that window. What kind of plumber showed up this promptly!?

Steve turned the shower off and grabbed the first robe off the hook. It wasn't his, he knew that. But in his defense, Robin wasn't home and he liked to air dry when he could. She could get mad at him later for snagging hers. He tied it hastily, rushing to the door before the plumber left.

-------------------

Eddie waited for the door to be answered, checking his watch while he did. Today was his only appointment, so he thought he was doing well by showing up on the early end of the window. He was ready to spout the rehearsed script when the door opened. Good morning, Munson and Son Plumbing. You got a problem with your drain pipe? Well I'm here to fix it. Fun fact, I'm a guitarist, so I'm pretty good with my hands. Anyone you know looking for lessons?

His uncle didn't always like him plugging his side gig, but putting up posters around neighborhoods wasn't quite as successful as actual face time. Then the door fully opened and he got an entire eyeful. A dripping wet god of a man, his modesty just barely preserved in a bath robe. It did nothing to hide his thick, hairy thighs or impressive chest.

"Hi I'm here to handle your pipe!", Eddie blurted out. "I'm mean I'm good with my hands! P...plumbing! I'm the plumber, I'm here for your plumbing."

"Oh, y-yeah, we've been expecting you", Steve tried to close the top of his robe more and that made Eddie self conscious about staring.

Steve introduced himself and Eddie did the same as he was let into the house, somehow not putting his foot in his mouth as he did. Steve took him to the problem sink and Eddie got to work while Steve excused himself.

He went into his room, looking for something presentable only to find it was mostly his stuff for the club. Definitely not appropriate for a plumber visit. Then he remembered why. He had started a load of laundry last night. And when he woke up this morning, putting it in the dryer so it'd be ready once he was done with his shower.

He went to the laundry room to do just that, emptying the contents of the dryer into his hamper, bending over to do so. Once he was done, he'd be able to put together an outfit that didn't make him look like a desperate housewife.

Eddie had just finished tangling with the pipe. It didn't take as long as he had expected but his shirt was drenched now. He listened out for Steve, hoping he was nearby so that he didn't have to call for him, only to hear something...odd.

He followed the sound until he came to an open door and realized what the sounds were - little grunts of effort. Eddie bit his lip, letting logic and reason work themselves out. Steve knew he had someone in the house and the door was wide open so he couldn't be-

Eddie walked through the door and there was Steve, bent over, top half in the dryer, bottom half sticking out. His robe had began to hitch up, revealing just the bottom of that perfect ass.

"Holy shit", Eddie squeaked out.

"Hey? Plumber guy? I know this is awkward but would you mind helping me out? My robe got caught on something and I can't-I can't free myself."

"Um, okay? So should I just...should I just?", Eddie got behind Steve, hands fumbling. Should he adjust the robe or would that be rude?

"Just grab me and pull", Steve said, wriggling around more and stopping when he heard a rip.

"Yeah, okay, yeah I'll just", Eddie grabbed Steve's hips and pulled, to no avail.

"Gonna have to do it a bit harder than that", Steve said. "Here I'll, I'll try and push too."

Eddie swallowed as he pulled again, Steve's hips coming flush with his own and eliciting a gasp from the other man.

"A...again."

Eddie pulled again, harder this time. He had kind of been working with a half chub. The kind Steve had to feel right between his cheeks every time Eddie pulled on him.

Steve gasped with each time their hips came together and it was getting hard to pretend his asshole didn't flutter with each movement.

"Fuck, just fuck me already", Steve whined.

Eddie wasted no time in dropping his pants and rubbing his cock against Steve's ass, precum dripping and Steve still wet from the shower. The tip slipped in with ease and then the rest of him and Steve's hips wouldn't stay still and then he was fucking him oh shit he was fucking him he was fucking a client while on the clock.

Steve's voice sounded goddamn ethereal, echoing inside the tub of the dryer. He was giving as good as he got, pushing back with each thrust and Eddie got to watch his dotted cheeks jiggle with each impact.

Eddie pushed the robe up more, licking his lips as he was rewarded with the sluttiest back arch that he'd ever seen. He wasn't going to last and this Steve guy wasn't either. Eddie came first, one hand on Steve's hip and the other bracing itself on the dryer so that he didn't fall over. Steve's cock spilled into the floor, a mess to be dealt with later.

"Fuck...you really are good at handling pipes", Steve laughed through his panting.

When Eddie left that day, he didn't get Steve's number. But a week later their company got a call about a clogged toilet and specifically requested that Eddie come over, that they only trusted his expertise. This time, Eddie wouldn't let it slip through his fingers. And this time when Steve greeted him in a half open robe, it was on purpose.

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Ancient Script

This is for my dear friend @bigblissandlove1! Thank you so much for putting up with me screaming about this brainrot! I hope you enjoy this fic, my friend.

I'm not tagging anyone else in this, because the taglist I set up was for a whole other fic outside of RoP. If anyone wants to be tagged in future fics from The Hobbit, LotR, or RoP, please let me know! This is an AU fic in 2 regards: 1.) Soulmate AU 2.) it's set in the early Third Age - Adar is presumed dead by Sauron who has taken control of the Uruks, and he's biding his time in a small village while he concocts a plan.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Reader

[A/N: This is fluff with a couple of mentions of violence, but nothing graphic.]

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Uruk/Human romance, kissing, soulmarks are your soulmate's name in their handwriting, he falls first, he kills a man to protect her but it's not graphic.

~*~

The shop selling arms and armor had been around in our village longer than I'd been alive, and certainly longer than the seven years I'd lived there. The shop owner, a rather private Ellon, wasn't exactly outgoing, at least, not to most people in the village.

But me...he would actively ask how I was when I passed each morning on my delivery route from the baker's shop. Perhaps it was because the scent of freshly baked bread was irresistible. Or maybe his lack of conversation with the others had made him lonely and desperate enough to try and interact with the one person who had never been rude to him.

The others seemed to find it acceptable to be less courteous just because he was different. I never did, though. My parents had taught me to be kind to all, even before we'd picked up and moved from the next village over for an opportunity for my father's business to grow.

So, every morning as I made deliveries up and down the main road, I eagerly looked forward to the moment when he'd open the door to his shop and allow me a brief conversation - that was more than most people got when they weren't discussing the particulars of a transaction with him.

This morning was only slightly different. Usually, I delivered to his end of the road first, but today I needed to make sure I ended there, instead. So, in reverse order, I made my way steadily toward his shop, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw his door open as usual when I was only a few steps away.

"There you are," he rasped as a small smile stretched his lips. "I had begun to wonder if you had forgotten me this morning."

"Oh, no! Never, sir," I said as I pulled his usual weekly order out of my basket, neatly wrapped in baker's cloth and tied with a little string. His fingertips brushed mine as he took it, and I let out a huff of nervous laughter. "Actually, I had a reason to save you for last, today. Assuming that your shop is already open, of course. If not, I can always come back later."

"For you, my door is always open, my lady," he said taking a step back and gesturing for me to come inside. I'd never actually been in his shop before.

"Thank you, sir," I murmured slipping in and trying to stay out of his way.

The scent of leather and metal, polish and grit permeated the air within the store, giving the whole place the feeling of an army at rest. Gleaming plate armor, razor-sharp swords, knives of nearly-infinite variety, and bows that looked lethal even at a glance were all neatly arranged on shelves and wall hooks.

I should've come here sooner.

"Now, what was so important that you felt you must rearrange your entire morning?" The Ellon asked as he laid the wrapped loaf of bread on the desk where he changed coin and made trades.

"Ah, 'tis twofold," I said as I opened my bag and pulled out my small, sheathed dagger. The shimmering blue stone laid into the hilt glinted as brightly in the morning light as it did the day my grandfather had given it to me. "The lower priority of the two would be my dagger. I lent it to one of my neighbors, and, well..."

Carefully unsheathing it, I showed him the now-split blade.

"If it is beyond repair, I certainly understand, but..." I shrugged, and he lifted the blade, inspecting its surface with his experienced eye.

"Not at all. This is easily fixed. I can have it for you by tomorrow morning," he murmured, laying it gently - almost reverently - on his desk and looking at me curiously. "And the second of your needs, my lady?"

Subconsciously, I ran my thumb over the cloth that covered my illegible soulmark. I knew whoever it was likely couldn't be entirely certain that I truly existed or, like me, could not read my name where it was inked upon their skin, but touching it even indirectly was still a comfort.

"I need to find a gift for my father. His birthday is in a fortnight, and I was wondering if, perhaps, I could examine your bows?"

He smiled at that.

"Certainly. Come with me." The Ellon led me to one of the large displays at the side, adjusting the sleeve of his tunic as he did so. When we reached the long line of curved and carved wood, I felt an answering touch through my soulmark - something so delicate that I could never be certain if I was just imagining things or if it was real. "If you already have a particular style in mind, then pay me no attention, but I must admit I am familiar with your father's current - let us say 'well-loved' - weapon. This, perhaps, might suit his needs and accommodate his firing style."

Lifting an intricately-carved bow from the rack, he strung it in one much-too-smooth movement that made my breath hitch. Clearly Elvish in design, that bow was finer than any that either my father or I owned.

"I know that you are an archer yourself, my lady. Come, feel the flex," he said moving around me and coaxing the carved grip into my hand. His chest pressed lightly against my back as I gave the string a pull mimicking aiming an arrow. His breath fanned lightly over my scalp, and when he spoke again, I fought not to blush. "You have excellent form. Anyone who opposed you would be doomed from the beginning."

His voice was low and gentle...intimate, in a way. I tried not to think about how luxuriant it would be to hear that soft, raspy voice murmur my name on a cold winter's night when we were curled up in front of a crackling fire.

A familiar shard of guilt wound through me. What would my soulmate, whoever they were, think of me fantasizing about someone else?

Slowly releasing the bowstring, I tried to tamp down my thoughts.

"This will be perfect." Thankfully, my voice betrayed none of my internal conflict, and I was gifted a small, pleased smile as he led me back to his desk. I'd never seen him smile at anyone else. Solemn yet polite, the Ellon before me seemed rather detached from everything in the village save his work, as if he was waiting for something...as if we were a mere respite from a path he must sooner or later traverse.

Fifty years was a long time to wait, but to him, I supposed, it must be a mere blink. Lives like those around him in the village must be barely worthy of his attention.

I'd be forgotten as quickly as wind whispered through the trees.

What must it be like to be significant enough to warrant even half that recognition in the eyes of one as long-lived as he? I heard my father and one of his business associates discussing the topic over mugs of ale one night in the tavern. Each believed he was several hundreds of years old. My father with all his knowledge of Elves had mused aloud after his friend left that he would not be surprised to find that our resident Ellon merchant had accrued over a thousand years of life.

"Scars like that," he'd said, "are the kind one gets in great wars. The last of which was a very long time ago, indeed."

I was inclined to agree, but where others saw a fearsome, intimidating being not to be approached unless necessity demanded it, I'd found a kindred spirit. He might not be outgoing and overly cheerful, but he was kind. His strength was beyond that of a mortal's, yet he could hold freshly-baked bread so gently that his fingers left no impression.

Even as he wrapped my father's new bow, including a few extra neatly-coiled bowstrings, I couldn't help but wonder how many people had judged him so harshly over the years? How many had feared him so severely that nobody even knew his name? It was true that I knew it not, but that came rather from a sense of embarrassment than fear. After all, what is a tactful way of asking a person's name after years of trying to be respectful without prying into his business? Admitting that nobody in the village knew it would only emphasize how different he was...how lonesome and separate he appeared compared to everyone else.

Oh, damn my fears! I was going to ask him, even if it took all my courage. He deserved to be called by his name as was respectful. For the moment, though, I drew my attention back to the present.

"What do I owe you, sir?" I asked as I reached in my satchel for my little drawstring bag of coins. I'd saved up for long weeks. A quality bow like the one he'd shown me could easily cost fifteen gold pieces. Taking on extra work and small tasks outside of the bakery, I'd managed to save seventeen gold pieces and a few silvers - enough for the bow and repairs for my dagger.

As he tied the wrapping with thick twine, he glanced up at me and, with an entirely straight face, muttered "three gold pieces."

I froze. That couldn't be correct!

"Forgive me, sir, I...I believe I misheard you–" I stammered, but he cut me off.

"No, indeed, my lady. You heard correctly." He looked as serene as the morning dew, green eyes giving away nothing.

"B-But, sir, if I paid such a low price, that would be tantamount to theft! I could not possibly abuse you so!"

He lifted an eyebrow at my assertion.

"Have you, or have you not been instructing the baker to take half of the price of my regular order of bread out of your wages for the last seven years, my lady?"

I blinked, and words failed me for a long beat.

"How did you...?" He gave me a knowing look even as my tongue trailed uselessly off into silence.

"Did you think I would not notice that the price I'd been paying for years was cut in half after a mere week of your employment?"

As a matter of fact, I'd hoped he would assume it was a mere coincidence.

"I have been, but–"

"Then, my lady, please allow me this small liberty," he said walking around his desk to stand before me. "You surely have paid for this bow several times over by now."

My cheeks burned under the intensity of his gaze, but I persisted.

"I did not do so with the expectation of repayment–"

"Very well, then," he murmured, "two gold pieces."

My lips parted in surprise.

"Sir–" Silencing me with a raised hand, he smirked.

"The more you argue, the lower my price. I believe we are currently at one gold piece. Shall we descend into silvers?" Mischief danced in his eyes, but he was serious in his assertion.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked before I could think better of it.

"Because it pleases me," he said looking at me with a steady, constant expression. "Does one need a reason to be kind?"

I felt as though I'd been struck. I'd asked him the same question less than a month after beginning my job with the baker. He'd remembered! I'd thought it was a trivial sort of question at the time, but I suppose if he'd remembered it, I must've struck a chord within him.

"But I don't even know your name," I stammered in a last ditch effort to convince him I wasn't worth his losing so much money.

"Do you think I am unaware of that fact? I have not told it to anyone in decades. None here know it, yet you are the only one who cares that you do not know." He brushed an errant strand of hair behind my ear with the sort of delicacy that one would not expect a weapons merchant to possess. "You see me. That is why it pleases me to make this easier for you."

It took every ounce of self-control within me not to tilt my head and lean into his touch. His gaze dropped to my lips, and he licked his own - a barely-there flick of his tongue that I would've missed had I blinked but an instant earlier.

"If...you still wish to know my name when you retrieve your dagger in the morning, I shall tell it to you, my lady," he murmured even quieter than before.

"Surely you will allow me to pay the correct price for that, sir?" I asked, and a measure of mirth flickered across his expression as he lowered his hand.

"The correct price for you, my lady, would be absolutely nothing. In that regard, yes, I will be charging you the correct price," he stated in a tone that brooked no argument. "I look forward to seeing you come the morn. You may wish to take your father's gift home before he returns so that it might remain a secret."

Nodding silently, I laid three gold pieces on the desk and picked up the wrapped package. Thanking him, I made for the door, hoping that he would not notice the extra coins - surely he knew I couldn't allow him to undercharge me so severely? Before I'd made it more than two steps, however, one of his arms slid around my waist, stopping me in my tracks like a bar of steel.

"Not so fast, meleth," he breathed against the shell of my ear, and I heard the clinking of two coins as they dropped back into my bag. "A valiant attempt, I must admit. I shall see you on the morrow."

Throughout the long walk home, I could not rid myself of the sensation of his lips brushing against my ear nor his breath slightly stirring the hair upon my scalp. The ghostly memory of his arm catching my waist stayed with me until I fell asleep at nearly midnight.

--

Adar could remember the day her name appeared on his arm more clearly than almost any other - a feat for a being with many thousands of years under his belt. He'd been preparing to open his shop for the day when pain lanced across the inside of his forearm. His scars ached occasionally, but this pain was so sharp and different that he'd nearly dropped the newly-forged sword he was preparing to put on display.

Tugging his sleeve back, there it was: her name written in curling, shaky, yet careful font - the way her handwriting would look. He'd been so amazed that he had been given a soulmate after so long that he'd simply dropped onto a stool and stared at his arm for a time. Before her name appeared, he hadn't even been certain that his heavily scarred skin would allow him to see a name should one choose to appear, but now that he had his answer, he faced a new problem.

Should his soulmate have to face the burden of his existence when he was so twisted and broken? Morgoth's scars marred nearly every inch of his body, his face inspired fear in everyone he encountered, and he'd even failed his children. They'd fallen under Sauron's control again, and as they believed him dead, there was no chance they'd listen to him. They'd sooner believe he was a fraud than their father.

For several years, he'd covered the mark, barely daring to check if it was still there when he washed himself. Eventually though, as the years passed, he noticed that his soulmate would touch her own mark almost compulsively. Perhaps she was nervous and simply attempting to calm herself...

The first few times it happened, he ignored it, believing the gentle touch to be no more than a figment of his imagination, but after a while, he ached with the thought that she might believe that she was not wanted. He began following her caresses with a gentle one of his own. He hoped that it was enough that she would not give in to that fear.

Her existence was a miracle to him, even if she could not read his name. He knew she would be unable to, for the language to which he was accustomed had not been written in many thousands of years.

The day he first saw her, too, was vividly embedded in his mind.

A knock had sounded at the door to his shop. He'd ignored it the first time. The baker's delivery boy - unreliable as he was - typically knocked, leaving his wrapped bread upon the doorstep before scurrying away from his threshold as if it was diseased. Adar assumed that it was he who knocked that morning, so he went on as usual. After a few seconds, however, a second knock sounded, accompanied by a feminine voice.

"Delivery from the baker," came the call though the wooden door. Adar had been so surprised that he laid aside his work and opened the door without any further hesitation.

She was beautiful. The early morning sun illuminated her kind, smiling face in a manner befitting one of the Valar. Expecting her to flee upon her first glance at his face, the Uruk was stunned when her nervous smile widened a fraction.

"Good morning, sir," she chirped happily as she pulled his wrapped loaf of bread from her little basket. "I kept everything well-covered, so it should still be warm from the oven."

Accepting the bundle from her with a quiet, stunned rasp of 'thank you, my lady,' Adar couldn't help but watch as she gave a little curtsy and headed on toward the next shop. The cool, gentle breeze had teased her hair and skirt, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his softest blanket so that she would not feel the chill.

One as radiant and lovely as she did not deserve to live in anything less than the most luxurious sort of comfort. His heart had not stirred like that in...he could not remember the last time it had.

He'd heard someone call her name that afternoon - the same name that was etched indelibly on his forearm - and that had startled him more than anything ever had before. This warm ray of light was his soulmate? What had he done to deserve her? He, who was cracked and broken, scarred and burned...none could ever be worthy of her, most especially not him.

A servant of darkness, one marred and twisted by its shadows, should have nothing to do with such a being of light and joy.

Merely a week later, he'd placed his usual order with the baker, and he'd been asked for half of what he usually owed. At his own prodding confusion, the rotund little Man behind the counter had told him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye that someone thought kindly of him. It was not difficult to guess who it was. With all of her smiles and kind words, her unfailingly cheerful greetings whenever she saw him, Adar knew at once that it was her.

She tried to keep it secret, never once bringing up the topic, but he tried to repay her kindness with conversation. He'd been rusty, at first - he still was - but he didn't know how else to show her his gratitude.

Then, one day, he was afforded an opportunity to do so. Traders came through periodically, both seeking and offering wares. Most were well-behaved, exhausted people who wanted no more than to earn a living, but occasionally, there was an outlier among them. A trouble-maker.

One such passed through barely a year hence, and Adar had not liked the way his gaze lingered upon his lady as she made her morning rounds. He watched her too intently and for too long a duration for one with innocent thoughts in mind. No, the Uruk had seen too many over the years with such a glint in their dark, soulless eyes.

When she reached Adar's shop that morning, he'd glared at her evil shadow before gently grasping her hand and suggesting in a low voice that she keep her dagger handy until that particular caravan had left. She'd given him a reassuring smile and pulled the edge of her shawl back just far enough to show him the hilt where it was already strapped at her waist.

He'd never been so proud in all his life, but that didn't stop him from keeping a close eye on her for the rest of the day. None had noticed that his shop was closed with freshly-scattered alfirin seeds before it that afternoon, nor had the filth watching her seen that he was being followed by death's ruined right hand. The trader had followed her halfway back to her home and had begun to catch up with her when a flash of black and silver tugged him silently behind a tree.

The only sound that heralded the scum's death was a snap. She'd turned to look for what had made the noise, believing it to be a branch, and when she found nothing, she made her way safely home.

Her Uruk protector had disposed of the body beside a field where wild horses grazed, laying an empty bottle of spirits beside him. The next morning when the corpse was found, it was obvious to all that he'd gotten drunk, tried to ride one of the beasts, and had been thrown to his death. Adar guarded her door each night until the caravan left. The alfirin seeds had sprouted within mere days, and if any in the village had known their true meaning, the white blooms would have screamed his deed to the world.

But none were the wiser, and his lady was safe. That was all that mattered to him.

Fixing her dagger now was nothing less than a privilege. He'd told her it was easily repaired. In truth, it needed to be reforged. He'd shut his shop for the day and rolled up his sleeves to begin the work.

In the morning, after sharpening the blade's edge, he unlocked his shop door and awaited her arrival. He'd told her that she'd have his name today if she was still interested, but...he was tempted to give her more than that...to show her his mark. His self-indulgent moments when he showed her the bow and when he'd returned her coins had carved themselves upon his heart, stirring within him the desire to hold her again and never let go.

He'd been alone for so long that he now felt like a drowning man each time her eyes met his. She was so close, yet just out of reach. Could she see how much she meant to him? Could she tell that he would save, burn, or change the world entirely at her behest?

The door creaked inward, drawing him out of his thoughts. She was back. He stood straighter as she approached.

"Good morning, my lady." The tentative smile she gave him showed him all that he needed to know. It was time that he told her everything. If she rejected him, well...he'd come to expect pain. It would not surprise him, though, it would be worse than anything he'd yet experienced.

--

"Good morning," I murmured in return. My heart raced in my chest, and I hoped that my voice didn't sound as nervous as I felt. Smoothing my dress a bit further, I approached his desk. "I hope I haven't put you to any trouble."

"Not at all," he answered with a small smile as he lifted my dagger from his desk. "Come, let me show you what I have done."

I did as he asked, moving closer and paying entirely too much attention to the way his large hands dwarfed my little blade. He pulled it carefully from the sheath, showing me his handiwork. He'd polished it, too. The scent floated through the air in a familiar curl.

"Oh, it looks as good as new!" I exclaimed as he handed it carefully to me. The leather grip on the hilt had been replaced and even the balance had improved! "I cannot thank you enough, sir, truly."

"It was my honor, my lady," he said as I passed the blade back. He slid it neatly into its sheath. "Do be cautious. I gave it a quick pass over the whetstone this morning. 'Tis sharper than before."

"Are you sure you won't accept at least some sort of payment?" I asked, and he gave me a mock-stern look. I raised my hands in surrender. "My apologies."

"Gladly accepted."

After a long pause, I finally asked what I'd wanted to.

"May I still ask your name, sir? If your mind has changed, or if you simply do not wish to reveal it, I swear I will not press you on the matter."

He was quiet for a long enough moment that I nearly began pouring forth apologies.

"You are the only one I have wished to tell," he admitted. "You may call me Adar."

Adar. I knew that word from somewhere, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Thank you, Adar. I shan't tell a soul without your permission," I promised, and with an appreciative nod, he held out my sheathed dagger.

"Tell me," he rasped, not relinquishing his hold on my weapon quite yet, "why do you keep your forearm covered?"

I gave a nervous laugh, unable to maintain eye contact with him.

"I...My soulmark is there. I can't read it. Never have I encountered a language quite like it...whatever it might be."

He gave a small smile.

"I can read it." Adar's assertion snapped my gaze up to meet his once more.

"Sir?"

"If you would prefer that I not, that is entirely your prerogative, but I can almost guarantee you that I will be able to read it." When I hesitated, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Let me help you, my lady."

Quickly stowing my blade in my bag, I began to unwrap the fabric I kept tied over my arm. As I did so, the need to explain myself pulled a flood of words from me.

"I'm not ashamed of my soulmate, whoever they might be, but after a while, the looks I got when people glimpsed the writing...the pity, the confusion...the explanations became a bit tiresome. Besides, it is nobody's business save me and my soulmate," I murmured as the last bit of the cloth came free and fell away revealing the stark, black marks on my arm. Adar moved just a bit closer, a small smile stretching his lips as he caught my arm gently in his grasp. "Can...? Do you recognize it?"

For a moment, he was silent, only nodding his head in response, but that was enough to send my heart racing in my chest. That was more than anyone had told me about my mark in all my years.

"I have not seen this language written in an Age," he breathed, and after a long moment, his eyes met mine. "I am certain that if you knew the answer, you would regret inquiring about your soulmate's identity."

I couldn't hide my confusion.

"What do you mean? No matter who they are, if the marks are any indication, I can handle it. I have never known them to be wrong," I said, and he looked back down at my arm. "Please. You are the only hope I have of ever being able to read it."

His grip on my arm loosened somewhat, as if he was expecting me to tear myself from his grasp.

"I...have not used this name in thousands of years," he whispered tracing the first half of the dark runes, "but it was still mine. I prefer Adar, now, but...your mark seems to have taken that into account."

My lips parted in surprise, but I was frozen as he traced his fingertips lightly, carefully over the rest of the marks near my wrist.

"Just after that slight separation is the name you would now recognize as mine," he murmured, then he lifted my wrist and placed a kiss onto my mark, reverent and affectionate. The ancient writing tingled and sparked over and beneath my skin, sending a wave of pleasure through me.

He released my arm and tugged back his own sleeve, showing me my scrawled name on his scarred forearm. Carefully, afraid that he'd disappear, that this would turn out to have just been a dream, I touched him just as he'd done.

"For whole Ages, my arm was blank. There were others whose marks were slow to appear, but those whom I knew waited mere centuries. I was convinced that I was not destined for that fate," Adar admitted as I touched the first letter of my name. "I wondered...if I would even be able to read a name should it appear on my skin, or if it would appear as twisted as my scars."

As a tear slipped down my cheek, I kissed his arm as he'd done to mine. The slight gasp that escaped him was like ambrosia for my soul.

"I'm so sorry. You waited for so long, and all you got for your trouble was a mortal with terrible penmanship..." I trailed off with a sniffle, but he tilted my chin up with his free hand and shook his head.

"It is beautiful, because it is yours. It tethered me to you. This mark meant that I was no longer alone." His soft, rasping voice was filled with emotion. "Do not apologize for giving me hope when I'd dared not cling to it for such a long time. I should be begging your forgiveness, my lady. You do not deserve one as unworthy as I."

I shook my head in protest.

"Only I decide what I deserve. If anything, it is I who does not deserve you," I murmured. "You who have lived so many lives...having seen and experienced things I could scarcely imagine..."

I reached up slowly so that he could stop me if he wished, but he made no move to do so. My fingertips brushed his cheeks as lightly as was physically possible.

"I could want no other but you. I have felt guilt for so long. I could not read my mark, but I felt when my soulmate touched his. And yet, I knew that I had lost my heart to you the day we met." My confession felt like the sweetest relief. "If that name had belonged to any other, I would have been distraught."

Adar leaned into my touch, closing his eyes and drawing a slow breath. Twin tears escaped, dripping down his face in an asynchronous race.

"Now that I have you, I cannot give you back, meleth," he warned as he stepped closer and rested his forehead against mine.

"Then, keep me," I whispered, and his lips finally, finally met mine.

~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1

[pvtjoker22]

I think something that kind of gets lost in the discussion around that scene and whether that line is shallow fan service is that Andy is Andy.

What I mean is that, Rain's dad loved puns, jokes, and breaking the tension with dad jokes and corny humour so much that he named an Android, Andy. Andy the friggin' Android. Also, yes that line is also a callback to Ripley's line in the power loader. But in terms of the context of where it appears in Romulus it is :

right after Rain puts back in her dad's dorky, sweet Andy chip

Right after she apologizes for hurting Andy

Right after a traumatic experience for Rain (she falls nearly to her death, then a xenomorph grabs her with the intent for a face-hugger to impregnate her)

which is to say they'd both been through a lot

With that context in mind, I'm pretty sure given the clue in Andy's sort-of sheepish line delivery that it's supposed to be him trying to come up with a dad joke, failing, and then just falling back to "...bitch?" which still ends up releasing the tension/de-stressing Rain and himself which is where the impact of the line is supposed to be, unless I'm way off-base

You can still definitely argue it's placement in the script at all is kinda cheap/corny but it makes sense within the scene in and of itself I think.

[revacholianpizzaagenda]

97 Poets of Revachol pics!

HERE THEY ARE, courtesy of the event's official photographer, Zuzana Šubrtová. The Elysium-based LARP took place in two runs in Terezín, Czech Republic, in the latter half of September. These are from the second run!

I can't possibly describe what it was like to inhabit the rundown tenement of La Cage with more than a hundred other players, bringing to life a whole slice of society: immigrants, barflies, petanque players, sewer people, Union gang members, Wild Pines mercs, disco people, sewer people, looters, street artists, an inevitable mass of fascists, anarchists, communards (or so I'm told), communards (proper), communards (it's complicated), councilmembers, hustlers, taxidermy enthusiasts, the also-inevitable mass of pale-fried strugglers, journalists, Moralintern creeps, RCM chucklefucks, and so on and so forth. The old military hospital burst to life with small human moments and grand revelations happening in every corner at all time, as the gears of history moved toward our inevitable trial run of Le Retour.

We really had it all. Politics, drugs, creeping mold, more drugs, unseen voices steering us toward our best and worst natures, a metaphysical rave, entroponetic anomalies, precognition (scripted), precognition (just kind of happened?? Several times over?), suzerainist coffin deliveries, sweatshop politics, old reckonings, radiant sacrifices (accidental-ish), three-way divorces (one-upping one HDB), strikes and strike-breakers, political dance-offs and political orgies, and did I mention the drugs, under the greatness of history and the pale.

Thanks to the organizers for the colossal effort they pulled off like it was nbd, and to all my fellow dwellers of La Cage.

A few favourites:

First off, this was basically the entirety of my game:

...with a central heartrending tension between that abandon, that 'something beautiful is going to happen', and my character's earthly loves, the family she loved so much. It was really really fascinating and emotionally moving to get to play out that central conundrum in full (and go die on the barricades for an independent Revachol following the push of History) (and also of Franconegro pulling my strings like a marionette in a chilling scene) (but mostly History)

Case in point: me in the back, the Unseen voice/spirit/skill "Doomsayer" to the left, dear husband Tai in the middle. Sorry Tai!

Moralintern mission

Sweatshop workers strike

Both sides of the barricades, right as the game ended (this is not a spoiler, it said up front on the website that that's where the story would end): independentists (feat. His Fuckery Franconegro with the black wings in the background, but also the Unseen of if it sucks hit da bricks, the street martyr and idk who else) and globalists (Dolores Dei, Doomsayer et al)

speaking of those two - here's them in full rave regalia. I love that two of the collective skills of this place are flat-out "Dolores Dei" and "Franconegro", it's so fitting. Can't have current society without them, so here they are, as a molecular part of it.

RCM peeps predictably being serious, professional individuals

Designer drug guy talking to Corrosion who's kind of the local version of Electrochemistry. I'm sure this was a completely hinged conversation that reached sensible conclusions

Wild Pines mercs +1

Disco downtime. The set design for The Bearded Vulture club and The Second Club was out of this world. I hope my own pics can convey some of it.

sweatshop power dynamics (there were accidents, Union leverage, strikes, corruption... you'd think there would be barely time for anything else to go on AND YET)

possibly my fave pic of the whole thing (go Doomsayer!!!). we had specific graffitable areas on the wall and made VERY good use of them. Well, everyone else. My character wasn't much of a graffiti artist, her greatest contribution was turning "Revachol for revacholians" into "Revachol for mold"...

LARP^2

fascist campaigning at the Democracy Picnic

Petanque club...

...actually playing petanque? I never saw them ingame, I was starting to wonder if it wasn't a front for something else

Pictured - no scheming, plotting or quadruple-crossing here as you can clearly see by "Kras Knezhinisky"'s super normal demeanour and unassuming name, which I can totally believe was on his legit birth certificate)

I mention Kras because here's the theatrical taxidermy show with him in the middle narrating the adventures of his antifascist ferret Kommissar Kunixet. Nice pic, I take the shot. Five seconds later, superstar Frittte clerk Jamie Delaney joins in, and what can I do, NOT have Jamie in a shot? Absolutely not, so I take the same exact shot with Jamie in it as well.

And by sheer twist of technology (and of course the pale, and of course vile censorship in defiance of the Romangorod convention)... Kras Knezhinsky of all people gets kommissar-no-kommissar'd. "Kras, the pale is erasing you from our memories, from images," I warn him, showing him the two pictures. One hour later, he gets taken behind the waste disposal facility and shot.

Hm.

(LARP's haunted. These things KEPT HAPPENING. In the first run, that version of my character went "YOU MURDERER" at the specific merc who'd turn out to be connected with her background, a couple of hours before getting that reveal in-game. What's Elysium without some good old-fashioned precognition after all!)

Poor Flowerseller (red dress here) was kind of my Empathy - many valiant attemps were made, however. Uphill struggle.

HARDCORE anodic club leader Konrad Nilsen doing something not so hardcore here, idk what was going on exactly but then again I never even noticed we had a morgue and I had a plot right next room, so what do I know. I know that the end is near. That much for sure. And that the resolution of history's contradictions goes through the pale. But corpses? Nah.

||||||| 😎

[kafka-ish]

I think if Art wasn’t as serious about tennis he’d be such a coworker. Maybe it’d be in between summers at Stanford and it’s your first week there. He’s scheduled to train you, show you the ropes but when you first walk in he thinks you’re just another customer, a really pretty customer that’s got him changing up the script. Hey! How’s it going? What can I do for you? Find everything alright? He’s already thinking of ways he can slip you his number, maybe he’ll write it on your receipt. And he’s typing in his ID to give you his discount, anything until you say, “Actually, I work here.”

Art stops typing. Looks up, completely dumbstruck because you’re too pretty to be selling yourself out for some minimum wage corporation, to be doing any sort of labor. You need to be taken care of; any reason you should step foot in here would be to pick out a new tennis racket for a match you have. But you’re here. You work here. So he cancels out the order and says something about how he’ll get you a t-shirt, stay there.

He’ll take you to the back where the employee bathrooms are. You watch his fingers when he punches the numbers. “It’s like a six,” he says, and you think about that every time you use the code to get in. He waits for you outside the door while you’re changing, wishing he could get a glimpse, wishing he could be on the other side. He gets hard just thinking about it. He thinks about the kind of bra you’re wearing, if you’re wearing one, what you look like underneath the fabric. And he thinks you look so cute in that work-issued uniform even if the collar of your shirt isn’t folded over correctly - it only gives him the urge to reach over and fix it. Sorry, he says when he retracts his hand and sees the look you give him. He doesn’t mean it, not entirely, by the way a smile starts working its way on his face.

Art would give you a tour before you get started. He wants to show you around and he loves that he gets to be the first one to make an impression. Fucking revels in it. But he’s also weighted with the worry of making a good impression so some of his delivery is awkward: this is the stockroom it’s where we get stuff to… stock / we separate brands in sections so if someone asks where adidas is you can point to the three lines back there / managements making us ask everyone if they wanna round up their change but you don’t have to. I just ask anyone who’s paying cash. Or if they’re cute. The system makes you put their email in. He flushes a little because he doesn’t know why he says that last part.

I think Art would be so patient when he’s training you. He would take his time to over-explain everything and he doesn’t realize he comes off sounding like a douche. Telling you what all the buttons mean and asking if you want to come with him when he’s about to stock something just so you can see where it is for next time, obviously. But it’s just an excuse to talk to you!! He doesn’t know how and he figures since you both work there it’s an easy in and you think it’s so adorable that because it’s a slow day he’s pretending to be your first customer, gathering random items, having you scan them, and reminding you to ask if he wants to round up his change for charity.

“Not today”

“Okay, your total will be—”

“Hold on. You don’t want my email?”

“Well, you said no so…”

“No. Convince me. Really try and convince me.”He wants to know what lengths you’d go for him if this is how you’d happen to meet. So you say, okay it’s for this charity you guys are having.

“Say it’s for homeless animals. They eat that shit up,” Art lets you in on this piece of information like the manipulator he is.

“Is that what you do?”

And Art would make sure to stay near you just in case you need something, always bags the customers’ items so you can focus on the transaction. He loves the way you say his name, how timid you are when you whisper Art when you need help. He imagines that’s how you say it when he’s eating you out.

[nothingenoughao3]

So y'all know how Jeff Combs was doing a theater production which someone involved with Re-Animator saw him in, and how he's suggested that the character he played there influenced how he played Herbert West.

I relayed this to @andalusiapunk and they were like "Oh! That explains it! He's theater-acting!"

I am not an expert by any means, but I did misspend my teenage years in a magnet school as a theater student. I understood immediately what they meant by theater-acting and I'm mad I didn't come up with it.

A lot of this has to do with Herbert's overall physicality. We all love talking about how he's hyper-dramatic, right? How he moves in a particular way that is extremely precise and sharp and, to be on point, theatrical. How he spins the tape recorder in his hand; how he offers Meg's heart in BRIDE; how he fumbles or manipulates syringes in various scenes.

None of that's in the script and it's not necessarily justified by what's happening... unless you're trying to make sure the audience in the backass end of the theater can see you're holding something small, like a tape recorder or a syringe or a human heart. As I observed elsewhere, you can trick the audience into 'seeing' or 'hearing' things that aren't present onstage or screen if your body language insists on its reality.

And, not to get into super-nerdy film history, but: originally theater-acting and movie-acting were one and the same. Early films are blocked like plays, they have extended sequences without constant cutting between shots (like an audience watching a play), and the extremely clear, over-enunciation of a play-actor trying to make sure those poor bastards in the back can hear what they're saying. And like a play, all acting was heavily rehearsed and expected to hit the same points and produce the same results every time.

What changed this was Marlon Brando introducing the idea of improvisation into movie-acting, a choice which also led to a greater flexibility in movie-acting... including delivery of lines. A more "natural", verisimilitudinous delivery became acceptable for films. This doesn't make either style bad, to be clear: each serves its purpose.

Bruce Abbott (to name the most obvious example) is doing movie-acting. He's got some Protagonist Accent going for him, but he has a clear variety of tone and a great deal of subtlety with his facial expressions and delivery. The same goes for the rest of the cast, although David Gale kind of straddles the line between these two styles.

Herbert's delivery is pure theater-acting. When he and Dan invade the morgue, Dan is whispering--but Herbert is stage whispering, which is why he hisses so much. I've made jokes on here before about how Herbert was born on Skid Row in Little Shop of Horrors-verse, and he thinks he's supposed to be in a musical... and, you know, LSOH is a film based on a play, only in that movie, EVERYBODY is theater-acting.

Anyhow, lotta words to find a different way to compliment Combs and the rest of the REANI cast on their acting, because I live for sorcery enjoying these damn movies.

[historical-kitten]

Ancient Roman Politicians on a Modern Date

Gaius Julius Caesar: He invites you to a dinner party at his house and is a fairly witty and engaging host, but all of his stories seem to be about himself. However, friends assure you he's "every woman's man and every man's woman," so stick around for the nightcap he offers you if that makes you curious.

Marcus Licinius Crassus: For a man who is absolutely the wealthiest you've ever met, it seems a little convenient that he 'forgot his wallet' on your date to that expensive gastropub, so you couldn't go halfsies and had to pay for both your meals. The gold flake dessert shines bright, but you sort of wish he'd choke on it.

Gnaeus Pompeius Maximus: It's kind of weird how he takes you around to show you his art collection since it mainly consists of statues of himself, but hey, at least he's interested in art? He also tells a lot of stories about himself. However, he has a reputation for being a devoted husband and he's in between spouses, so if you're ready for that, give him a chance.

Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus aka Augustus: He literally wrote out a plan for your entire date, how it would go, and what he would say to the most commonly asked smalltalk questions. Do not deviate from his script. He takes you somewhere like a museum or a fancy restaurant where they barely feed you, but although he is polished, his romantic delivery seems a little flat until you run into his best friend Agrippa... They are just besties, right?

Marcus Antonius aka Mark Antony: Ok, there are a couple ways this could go. He is either an absolutely fantastic date who takes you to see a hilarious play and finishes off with a fun night on the town, or he takes you to a bar in a seedy part of town where you dance and drink and party all night. Either way he gives you nice gifts and is charming and funny. On a later date he may take you on the most expensive, romantic, fancy date ever. Most likely a good time date, just don't expect things to get serious unless you're the Queen of Egypt.

Marcus Aemilius Lepidus: He never showed up for your date. Completely ghosted you. You track down his coworkers Mark Antony and Octavian and they say they have no idea where he is either. Weird.

Marcus Agrippa: He takes you on a tour of the city, pointing out all the architecture and finishes this off with dinner. He seems nice, intelligent, and is very attentive to your needs. So why isn't he off the market yet? His attachment to his slightly creepy best friend and roommate Octavian, maybe? They were roommates.

Sextus Pompeius Magnus Pius: A much better date than his father, he takes you to his private boat and gives you a seaside tour. He valiantly fights off pirates during your date, but did you catch one of them winking at him? Regardless, it's an unforgettable adventure.

Who would you rather date? And again, I'm sorry, Lepidus.

As always, thanks to @just-late-roman-republic-things for inspiring these posts.

[evangelineshifts]

FUCK IT !

You know I started thinking about the analogy that people use for manifestation and shifting comparing it to when you order something online.

And for me that analogy made sense but I could never truly relate to it cause when they said “you don’t wonder when your package is coming, you just know it is and you don’t question that etc etc��

And while yes that is true to a certain extent, I actually DO wonder when my packages are coming sometimes. I DO check how far they are from my location. I do anxiously wait for them to come.

I realize that that’s okay. Cause no matter how many times I check the order status. No matter how many times I check how long it’s been since I ordered it, my package STILL CAME.

I think the way we’re told to restrict ourselves from thinking about how much time our manifestations are taking or when we’re gonna shift actually makes it worse.

When you tell someone not to worry about something, to let it go and not thinking about it, to feign indifference the harder they’re going to try to. Which in turn just makes them think about it more.

It’s counterproductive at best.

When I order something I do think about how long it’ll take. I do check the status but once I do I just kind of go on once I’m done. I don’t really feel any particular way about how long it’s taking cause I know it’s mine and it’ll get here.

I trust that the delivery service will get it here in due time cause that’s THEIR job not mine and leave it at that 🤷🏽‍♀️

Another thing I noticed is that in ordering things- at least for me - I don’t worry about HOW it’s gonna get here. It could be delivered on my doorstep, in the mailbox, dropped from a fucking helicopter, ANYTHING, and I have never once cared.

And it might just be me being slow and realizing this is what they meant in those posts later than everyone else but it’s just like- clicked !

I’m always SO worried about the process of shifting.

What method should I do? Should I even do a method?

What if I get bored? I dont want to do it if I’m bored.

What will I think about? Should I look over my script? Maybe Pinterest boards for visuals?

What if I forgot something? I should check my script.

What if I fall asleep?

What if? What if? What if?

WHO FUCKING CARES?!? That is not why you’re doing this. Who cares about that process when the end goal is the destination.

I’ve been avoiding shifting for the longest because I just kept stressing out over the shifting aspect of it. I would maladaptive daydream about my dr and be happy in that but the thought of attempt a shift made me groan.

The thought of affirming and persisting in my manifestations seemed strenuous.

But thats not the point. With practices as fluid as this focusing on what to do is literally the last thing you need to be worried about and I just now realized that.

You’ve probably heard this all before but like fr, do whatever the hell you want. If you want to shift wide awake, eyes open and dancing with music blasting in your ears- do it. Who’s gonna tell you that you can’t? Who has the credibility to say it’s impossible.

No one.

If you want to manifest by literally saying one affirmation and deciding it’s done and then going on doing whatever the fuck you want until the 3D catches up, then do it.

Tell yourself it works for you and then do it.

✧ dividers by @benkeibear !

[vigilskeep]

hi harker :) your post about the M!American VA for the Inquisitor being underrated & F!British VA being your least favorite had me wondering:

what are your opinions about the deliveries of all 4 VAs? as in, do you think there's some specific areas where each shines and/or falls flat in? or specific character archetypes they play well? (no worries if you don't really have an opinion on this tho ^^)

small disclaimer that i haven’t played the whole game with the majority of these so i am totally open to discussion from those who have

female british VA is my least favourite. like i say she does better in plot moments and i quite like the venom she puts into it when she’s angry but i can’t get over how really gratingly bland she sounds in casual conversation/when asking questions. she did not bring the effort for that and it’s so much of the game that i can’t let it slide. good for upper class characters who are a bit stiff and maybe a little socially inept. though actually, fun to play with f!cadash and probably also f!adaar (haven’t tried it) just because the voice itself by nature puts a different spin on those less traditional backgrounds for it

male british VA is okay! another posh one. he always sounds a little wry and amused, which comes off kind of emotionally disengaged. which is good in light scenes and for a certain type of character, but when the feelings should actually hit and he should get angry or upset, a lot of the time i don’t think it quite connects

american female VA is... also okay. i really like the basic sound of the voice and i think it’s very versatile in terms of character type. i also don’t think it had any super amazing moments that stuck in my memory to come to mind. kind of the opposite of the british female VA’s strengths and weaknesses i guess? but can i say i really dislike the assumption in some fan spaces that this voice is only usable for dwarves and qunari as if the actress isn’t literally a human woman like 😭 so weird. i loved her as my lavellan. to me, generally suits a more cool and experienced character

american male VA is easily the best experience i’ve had so far. listening to him do casual conversations is like... wow he is truly the only one of these four who showed up to work every day and actually performed rather than simply reading the lines off the script lmao. he comes off a little more gruff/aggressive overall imo. i do find his deep voice weird coming out of a tiny elven frame if you’re going for a lavellan but it’s not that strange. i still can’t fucking believe he’s zevran

overall i do not think the voice acting is that good in inquisition and i don’t think it’s the fault of the voice actors. from the way lines are often slightly misread compared to what it feels like the line’s intent must have been, or are sometimes just tonally bizarre for the scene, i get the impression the cast had very little direction and were left to do a lot of guesswork on their own

[lemotmo]

Ask box is still closed but they commented on the deleted scene. First activity from them in days.

Technically I'm still on blog sabbatical but that deleted clip was a wild choice. There's a lot to unpack in that very short scene and none of it is very flattering for Tommy. The medal comment when Hen and Karen asked about his intentions was immature and blatant deflection. It was also cringe, the wtf facial pout he added didn't help. What I don't know though is if the lines are meant to come across as cringey or if his delivery is what's off. And that was just the first cringe moment. He only made it worse after that. Saying they're going slow, and he's letting Buck set the pace was good, he should be following Buck's lead, but then he immediately made a sexual innuendo joke, and yet another wtf facial expression choice. I know the rule tends to be that since it was deleted we can't count it as canon, but knowing that he saw the way Hen and Karen reacted to that conversation, and still followed it up by turning another meaningful conversation attempt, this time by Buck, into another sex joke, an even more immature and gross one, is certainly a writing choice. And clearly a deliberate one.

That wasn't even the most alarming part of that scene though. The diet comment about Buck is a warning siren if ever there was one. That line was concerning because it is absolutely a call back to Buck 1.0 who believed the only thing he could offer anyone was his physical appeal and he was obsessed with keeping his body to a certain standard. The fact that we now have Tommy making multiple comments about their physical relationship, and Buck's appearance, is not good. Especially when you couple those comments with the other scenes of him dismissing Buck's excitement and overzealous personality. None of that spells a healthy relationship for Buck, the character the show cares about. It continues to show Buck's very unhealthy dating pattern of settling for people who are physically attracted to him but don't seem to genuinely like the person he actually is. It's actually kind of fascinating.

I genuinely liked the Tommy of episodes 1-4, probably not coincidentally the length of his originally planned arc. He was written well in those episodes, he worked. I'm also now pretty convinced that those first 4 scripts were kept pretty much intact to when Eddie was the plan. They clearly put effort into him originally. Everything that came after 7x4 went increasingly downhill, and that's because they hadn't actually planned anything for him after that episode. If they had been able to stick with the original Eddie plan he would have been gone after episode 4 because the kiss would have been all that was required to initiate Eddie's spiral. Once they had to swap Eddie for Buck they had to change their plan because Buck was already searching for something so the kiss wasn't going to be enough to make Buck spiral. Which means they still need to get Buck to whatever the plan for him was but now they have to do it through Tommy. They're not going to put effort into Tommy because after 7x4 he became a textbook plot device. His scenes and dialogue are now strictly to move the story forward, and nothing more. It's why he seems so different now. What's interesting is if Buck's spiral is now going to result from him back sliding from all the personel growth he has had since Buck 1.0. All the work Buck has put into growing himself as a person and working on himself. That's why the diet comment was so concerning. It's the old Buck. If he thought figuring out he was bi was the last piece of the puzzle and he should feel 'fixed' now, but Tommy and their relationship still feels mostly physical he may revert back to believing he really doesn't have anything else to offer. A return of Buck 1.0, and a version of himself that Buck has referenced frequently he believes Eddie wouldn't have liked. I'm probably giving the show way too much credit but this would work and it would be fascinating to watch.

Thank you so much for sending this and the next one to me Nonny! :)

A day after the first one, the anonymous OP made another post about the deleted scene. I will paste it here as well, so these two posts can be read together.

I put it under a cut to save all your dashboards from clogging up. :)

All right, so first of all, I agree on so many things in these two posts. In the beginning Tommy was 'okay'. I didn't love him, but he was an okay character and love interest for Buck. But as the show went on he just became worse and worse as a character. To the point where a lot of people who liked him in the beginning actively started disliking and hating him. And most of it is tied in with the way he treats Buck and talks about Buck.

And ultimately I do think this is the whole goal of the show. They are doing their absolute best to show us that Tommy is NOT a good guy and definitely not a good match for Buck. By posting this deleted scene they are once again trying to make that point.

Unfortunately this message just flies over some people's heads and all they see is a this fantasy headcanon Lou told them about. They aren't watching the show as it is, they are actively trying to mold the show and BT into something it isn't.

I can't possibly explain any of this better than the OP, especially the part about Buck's body image. So I'll let them speak, but I agree so much with what they say.

One last thing I personally want to add is this:

Whenever Tommy opens his mouth, everything gets reduced to sexual innuendo and/or a dumb sex joke. And when it isn't about sex, it's him being extremely dismissive and negative in anything he says to Buck or some of the other characters.

This is also a thing that got transferred to the BT fandom in general. Everything Tommy does or says is over sexualised by a lot of the fans, in posts, messages, pictures and fics it quite often boils down to sex.

Now, I have nothing against sex. I realise sex is a part of the human experience, even for fictional characters, but to make it so that all that ties this couple together is sex? That is not what Buck is about. We know that about him. He has canonically been established as someone who is looking for love, a connection, a family...

So, why don't they talk more about the real deep canon love connection BT have on screen? I'll tell you why. It's because there is no canon love connection between them whatsoever. Tommy has no depth as a character. He is there for a specific purpose, a plot device to help Buck navigate his way through a new phase in life. That's it. The only emotional connection Buck and Tommy have is fabricated in, yet again, a Lou cameo headcanon that probably cost 200 dollars.

In the deleted scene between Tommy and Henren we see him at his worst and it's clear that Henren do not like or trust him. And yes, I kinda get why the OP would have wanted that scene in the episode, because it would have shown us -once again- that Tommy's intentions for Buck are mostly just about sex. This isn't anything serious. This is about sex. He tried with Eddie, realised it didn't work so he moved on to Buck when he saw how confused Buck was about whose attention he was trying to get.

I have no doubt he probably likes Buck, but he has no deeper intention beyond the sexual aspect of the relationship.

I said what I said. Don't come at me. This is my blog and I can respectfully blog about my opinion here. No ship hate here. Just common sense.

Remember, no hate in comments or reblogs. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of the anonymous OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[moonstruckme]

Ooo! Happy 6k btw, could i get the mae's rambles for poly!maraudes and this concept; actor!reader x poly!maraduers. Just fascinated by the film, they were the main character in, always complimenting how good they are, lots of kisses and praising, and ofc lots of fluff

Hi, thank you !

so depending on how famous you are, you might not tell them initially that you're actually in stuff and one day you come over and they're all watching your film like "you seriously weren't gonna say anything"

sirius wants to come on set and see how everything is done, esp makeup and costumes

similarly to with stage actor reader, remus is really the only one you can practice your lines with because the other two boys are just terrible and they make you laugh with their over-the-top delivery

sirius becomes convinced remus also needs to be an actor after you compliment his delivery, and remus has to stay away from your sets for a few weeks lest sirius try to "network" for him with your producers

sirius is kind of like one of those child actor moms, he's always demanding you have the scripts first, you have x foods in your dressing room, despite you telling him to back off

james eats all your dressing room food

if you ever go to a premiere you have to secure tickets for both james and sirius to go with you (remus wants to support you, but those sorts of events are his personal hell) and they're both very extra with their outfits

james is starstruck around any of your costars while sirius plays it cool to the point where everyone thinks he hates them

[neousfics]

Somewhere In Time is Literally Edwin/Charles, and here's why:

Just rewatched the movie Somewhere In Time because I thought it might work for a Paynland fic and holy fucking shit you guys it's perfect in every way. Charles is so Richard Collier coded and Edwin is so Elise McKenna coded it's not even funny. And the time periods are perfect???? Collier is literally from the late 70s/80s and time travels back to 1912???

Also William Robinson as the Cat King? Be still my beating heart.

(Spoilers for a movie from the 80s ig)

If you're unfamiliar with the plot, Somewhere In Time is about a playwright, Richard Collier, who, after being given a pocket watch by an old lady on the day of her death, begins to suspect that not only is it possibly to travel back in time, but he has already done it. He learns that the old lady used to be a beautiful young actress named Elise McKenna. He eventually manages to travel back in time, they fall in love only for him to accidentally get yanked back to the future just as they've begun to plan their life together. He dies from grief a week later and the two reunite in the afterlife.

Here are some scenes/dialogue that I think are so Edwin/Charles coded it hurts:

Collier (AKA Charles) decides to literally abandon his life and timeline after literally one (1) interaction with this lady + a pretty picture of her he saw in the museum section of a hotel and Charles would absolutely (and kinda did) do the same

McKenna (AKA Edwin) spent the rest of her life never giving up on finding Collier even though they were only together for a couple days. In her youth she's described as "quick and bright, fun, strong, and willful" but after he disappears she is described as "kind and thoughtful but too much within herself, like she was empty somehow" and you CANNOT tell me that does not sound like our favorite Edwardian boy

When Collier prepares to go to the past he picks out a time-appropriate suit, but when he gets there everyone keeps telling him its hella out of fashion and he is so offended 10/10, very Charles

I can practically hear Paynland saying this dialogue:

"Your occupation?"

“I’m a playwright.”

“A playwright.” (mad bitchiness in this line delivery)

“No, no I’m not here because of that!”

“Hm. And you say you know everything about me?”

“Well, yes.”

“Which is patently absurd. You couldn’t possibly know everything about me. We’ve never met. You’re a complete stranger to me.

“But then why did you ask, 'Is it you?'” (she asked this when they met the first time)

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“I know you don’t. I wish you would, though.”

When Collier asks McKenna to call him by his first name she hits him with the "Why should I?" and this doe-eyed fool says "I don't know. I just hoped you would."

Collier is terrified of the idea that McKenna would be afraid of him which is just so Charles like damn

When Collier tries to shave his face with the old-fashioned razor he does an absolutely terrible job, gets a bunch of cuts, and leaves shaving cream on his face and McKenna takes one look at him and decides this idiot is the man she's going to love forever

Their first kiss is actually the sexiest shit ever in this show like damn why they pulling up so hard in some random movie 40 years ago. ANYway when Collier touches McKenna's face and slowly leans in to kiss her she says in this breathy, barely heard whisper "Oh my God. I don't know what's happening." Which is very Edwin to me

When McKenna's manager gets too pushy about her romantic decisions she says "I am involved with you as an actress, Mr. Robinson. Not a doormat. Do not attempt to wipe your boots on me." okay Edwin

When McKenna is performing in the play (which is a comedy) she goes off script and starts dramatically monologuing all her inner thoughts about loving Collier while looking at him in the audience which Mr. "I know were in hell but I need to tell you I'm in love with you" Payne would definitely do

This is the monologue btw:

“The man of my dreams is almost faded now. The one I have created in my mind. The sort of man each woman dreams of in the deepest most secret reaches of her heart. I can almost see him now before me. What would I say to him if he were really here? Forgive me. I’ve never known this feeling. I’ve lived without it all my life. Is it any wonder that I failed to recognize you? You brought it to me for the first time. Is there any way that I can tell you how my life has changed? Any way at all to let you know the sweetness you have given me? There is so much to say. I cannot find the words except for these: I love you.”

"Are you alright?" "Yes" "I thought I lost you." "Never. Never, never, never."

The morning after they have sex she hits him with the "You will marry me, won't you?" And makes him choke on his food then immediately goes "You won't?!?!" without even waiting for him to respond

"I want to be everything to you." "You are."

This dialogue:

“The first thing I intend to do for you–”

“You’ve already done.”

“Well, the second thing.”

“What?”

“Buy you a new suit.”

“I don’t understand. Nobody seems to like my suit.”

“Oh can you blame them?”

“I think my suit is terrific. So what if it’s 10 years old?”

“At least 15.”

Collier just up and dying as soon as he gets back because he's so distressed at the thought of living without her he goes into a dissociative fit and doesn't eat for a weak is so Charles

If you made it this far, I commend you because I'm pretty sure I sound like an insane person and I don't even know if any of you have seen this movie but for the love of God I had to tell someone

Who knows, maybe I'll write a Somewhere In Time AU Paynland fic, or perhaps I'll just sit here and desperately hope that someone else will do it

[thats-not-okie-dokie]

WELCOME HOME MARCH 9TH UPDATE SPOILERS!!

The WH update was INCREDIBLE! Half of the merchandise page was brand new, a 20 minute audio starring Wally and Barnaby, and a few other songs around for the characters? DAMN, ALL OF THEM CAN SING! And don't even get me started on the designs of the advertisements and records and cookbooks! They feel so authentic, and you can tell so much love and attention to detail was put into each and every one of them. ALSO HOWDY'S FAMILY? THEY HAVE DESIGNS AND VOICES NOW?? YO- I can only imagine how long THAT script took to write! And Julie is officially confirmed to have paws! I wasn't expecting that, or for her to hibernate, but I find those details really cool. Makes me wonder if rainbow monsters are any related to bears? ALSO, Wally can sing too! I was under the impression that he struggles to stay on-key with his delivery, but I was wrong. And I am happy to be wrong, too! I've already listened to his rendition of Toyland like, 4 times. Poppy's voice is so sweet and soft-spoken when she's not terrified or nervous, and I'm so glad to be able to hear how she speaks normally. SHE HAS THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL I CAN LISTEN TO IT ALL DAY, WHERE'S THE COOKING CHANNEL? And Sally trying to be the star of the show by replacing the one on the Christmas tree, oh my word I admire her pettiness. And that silly rendition of Up On The Housetop is going to be on my mind all day hehehe

ALSO, there's a new mystery afoot! On the very last page of the merchandise book, there's a code cracker on the back of the Christmas edition cereal box (thanks, Eddie!). I've managed to decrypt every single doodle across the website, but it definitely still need some further decryption. I'm thinking it might be either a Ceasar encryption or needs to be descrambled. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be a message, or a website link. The "WWW" is really throwing me off. I thought I'd leave this to the professionals, since I'd be scratching my head for hours if I tried to solve this any further. I already tried reversing it 2 kinds of ways and playing around with the letters, as well as putting it into a Ceasar decoder and trying every way to brute force the combination, if it's a message. Still nothing. I'm not good with these types of things, but I'm hoping somebody else is. Good luck!

And here's every letter I've found, in the order the pages are on the home page:

MIOA FSNE W AR YG Y T E PYER N WWW

[sometimesraven]

re: the ableism in Dot and Bubble

I understand it almost certainly wasn't Rusty's intention for the "can't walk without the arrows" thing to be ableist, but the implications are there and it was so, so hard to watch.

As I said while liveblogging, I've noted that reliance on tech like Google Maps has caused a regression in skills like navigation and a frustrating refusal to even try. I'm frequently faced with that fact as I live somewhere you have to use your eyes to see and most fast food delivery drivers just Cannot Find Us bc the GPS goes wild and they can't follow the directions I always give them so I inevitably have to go out to find them myself. Believe me, I know what he was going for with that part of the script.

However.

When you exaggerate that point to the tune of "she literally cannot walk" without the aid, and then instead of it being deeply disturbing to the two 'kind, helpful' characters (Doc n Ruby), they actively roll their eyes at her and it's played as an "omg how stupid is she" moment, you have to see how that looks.

Let's reframe it: someone you've met was raised in a cult. A very insular, very strict cult that they literally have never seen outside of. At this point in time you know nothing about them but you do know they're in a very insular, very closed-off society. One day they tell you they have no idea how to,,,,,, idk, wash themselves without assistance. If your first instinct is to laugh at them and roll your eyes like they're overexaggerating, you're an ableist.

I struggle to believe anyone like the Doctor wouldn't perhaps initially react with confusion/incredulity but then, after realising this person is 100% serious, go "oh my god that's horrible okay uh let me try to walk you through this and teach you how".

It's a horrible, cynical response that would maybe track if at this point the characters already knew she was an entitled pissbaby. But they don't and that's why it comes across so terribly.

Especially when there's no indication that this is a side-effect of her entitlement and she's literally insulting herself "I'm so stupid!" and genuinely upset and frustrated that she can't even walk in the face of actual death. And yes, she miraculously can walk again once she meets Ricky but it wasn't because she was ignoring the Doctor's advice because racism because he had not given her any. She had literally zero clue how to walk without assistance until Ricky guided her.

This isn't a refusal to learn a skill based on entitlement, this isn't a heavy-handed metaphor, you have given this girl a disability (even if it is psychosomatic, it is still a disability). And in a time where social media + youth entitlement is being blamed for an increase of ADHD, Autism, chronic illness and DID diagnosis-seekers (among other things, but those are the ones people are most aggressive against) that just does not look good At All.

Russel could easily have made it so that they just had no idea how to navigate without the bubble and refused to learn.

Maybe at first show it as genuine frustration on Lindy's part that she can't find anything without guidance but slowly show that no, she's perfectly capable, she just doesn't care to learn.

Hell, you could have everything play out the same way but have her genuinely get offered help to begin with by the Doctor and ignore it, only for Ricky to say the same thing to her later and she gets it immediately.

Idk, anything beyond literally disabling her. The show does a great job at humanising her before showing us that she was a monster all along, but I feel like Rusty himself forgot that he was still representing a Whole Entire Person (something that people on all ends of the political spectrum do All The Time: "person is bad therefore [___ism] is okay in this instance". Ableism especially)