#IT DOES NOT MAKE THEM ANY LESS WONDERFUL!

[kyri45]

Time for Lmk Q&A post ??

it is!

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 15/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: I gotta know. How many times were you tagged during that take over? x'D

I THINK around 700. I didn't count but there were more than 850 posts that day.

@pines-thoughts ha chiesto: (bio parents au) do you think shadowpeach is gonna have to go through the courtnapping again since they broke up (rip mac)? My bets are on wukong doing it this time Anyway, love your art!!

Ahaha I guess WUkong wouldn't let the opportunity to revenge himself for when Macaque courtnapped him.

Anonimo ha chiesto: WAI-!! If heaven is afraid of mk and his powers he has from the gay monkeys...THEN!! Damn how will they react if spicynoodles HAVE A KID!!!! Like broooo all mk's powers AND red son's!!!!

I think we said at one point that Kai (from Ninjago) could theoretically be a spicynoodle fanchild and I stand with this even though it wouldn t make sense since Kai already have a set of parents but IT'S MY AU AND I GET TO BREAK CANON FOR MY CONVENIENCE.

@pan999flo ha chiesto: Three questions! 1: Since when did you knew Lmk etc? 2: Would you ever draw the Brotherhood in the future?( Like Azure,Peng and Yellowtasks) 3: Why are you so lovely? (I heard that many artists's arts remind of their artists) Thx for your time 😍

SInce uhhhh this July.

Eh, maybe.

aawww I'm not so lovely honestly I look like a mess (as most artist do) but all my friends tell me that my cheeks are really soft and squishable so maybe that was translated in my artstyle, who knows.

@bookworm-octavia ha chiesto: I have a question! Did/do you plan out how the Shadowpeach bio parents au comic goes or do you just wing it ? (Sry if already asked)

I've know how everything will happen/how it would end since this July/august.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hi! I was wondering if I could make an animatic where MK meets my OC. (With credit to you ofc)

Sure?? I don't own the MK character so you're free to do as you please.

@inkycarrot ha chiesto: Hey! I’m like super new to Tumblr and I was wondering what canvas size do you use for your comic panels? And do you resize em at all? (Like a file crunch)

1600x2100 more or less. no I don't resize them I don't have the patience ahah.

@nanomarion ha chiesto: why does monkey MK look so damn cute in your style?!

because he IS cute by default.

@ketho484 ha chiesto: LMK bio parents question: What personality differences are there in Rumble and Savage?

mmmm I would guess that Rumble is a little bit more mischevious and Savage is slightly more physical when it comes to messing around.

@buxiee ha chiesto: do you have any hc about Macaque singing or smth similar? 'cus i totally can imagine him singing lullabies to MK and Wukong...

yes macaque is 100% a singer

@zeetheartist0-0 ha chiesto: What got you to do the bio parents au?

Monkey MK

@vanilla41718 ha chiesto: I wonder what the gangs reaction to MK and red son dating gonna be ?

probably something along "it was about time" ahah

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Since both Macaque and MK are technically dead, neither of their body’s work right all the time. These apply to both of them: • There are the small things like being cold all the time, some times to the point of blue lips etc… • And bigger things like they will forget to breath at times and only realise when they go to speak and it’s like ‘Hello?? No oxygen? CAN’T SPEAK???’ • And other big things like MK/Macaque’s heart just stoping while they sleep causing everyone to freak out when it happened for the first time, but don’t worry! It usually starts again after half an hour of being awake, usually. Idk, just a funny little headcanon of mine <3

ahah my poor baby is traumatised (I'm sad)

Anonimo ha chiesto: will red son ever stop having his hair go flaming when MK kisses him? No? Good.

no.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Would Mk find Red boi try to do pickup lines or are both of them too much dorks?

yes they would, and be terrible about it. (they love each other so much that they just don't care though)

Anonimo ha chiesto: bro, you made so many pages of the comic, it's both cool and bad!!! I'm translating your comic into Russian and haven't even translated half of it!! I'm only on page 70!!!😭

ahaha good luck!

@keyblademastermonkiegirl ha chiesto: Hey! Just wanted to ask! When MK was changed into a baby monkey (so cute!!!!!!) How did everyone else react? Like Mei and Red Son? And then, did anyone tell Pigsy and Tang?

When it happened only Mei knew.

@grubbzygo0p ha chiesto: IF THROWN how far would MK go before caught by A: Mamacauqe B: Baba Wukong C: Pigsy D: his wife (Red Son)

I would say Macaque, because teleportation. BUT then again I bet Red Son would beat everyone, scream "MINE" and teleport away.

Anonimo ha chiesto: WAIT... MK was kidnapped in his sleep but it looks like he got his normal clothes on while kissing Red... what happened?

he was wearing his normal clothes when he got to sleep (exept his bandana)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Y did Red B look kind of angry when the spicy noodles kiss?

because he was irritated that the first "kiss" lasted so little.

@anxiescape ha chiesto: Okay so first off, hi! I love your art!! It's so beautiful!!! ✨(And you're also super cool!!! (And you also got me into Sky COTL how dare D:)) Secondly, I have a question about your Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU. Specifically, MK's staff... What happens if he loses one of the cuffs? Is he still able to form the staff, or is he just out of luck?

mmm yes he can still summon it, it's just- half as powerful and it's really really hard to keep it in a physical form.

@arrow-shotz ha chiesto: I just wanna say love your art and the ShadowPeach comic! but a random thought popped in my head even tho we are past point lol With Mk's staff, if it were to break in half or shatter- would it return back as brackets on Mk or would it be able to morph back because of the shadow magic Mk now has?

The shadow part can't be broken, it can be splitted yes but it would just reform a little later.

Anonimo ha chiesto: *raises hand* question, how did sun Wukong felt when macaque courtnapped him, (when mk and macaque talk about how mk wants to “kidnap” redson) like did he felt flustered or something and how heavy is sun Wukong because I can pick him up because he is very much short and I also want to hug him…..so can I carry and hug him please🥺🙏

Wukong:*head in hands covering the face* (omfg i can't believe this is happening. I'm being put down by TICKLES*)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Ok so my question is what are you gonna do after season 6 of lmk comes out like how will you progress the story?

when is S6 even coming out? Like I think the Au will be almost done before that happens ahaha.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I have a question: please correct me if I am wrong about anything: If Monkey King and mk were born female, does that mean that they can still use their reproductive organs and can get pregnant or is there something i missed about it?

If MK and Monkey King are fertile to begin with, yes, i think, by someone who isn't a stone monkey though.

@galaxy-rose99 ha chiesto: I get the feeling that after the whole 'Heaven Kidnapping MK' ordeal. Spicynoodles will end up going through a mushy/gushy stage of their relationship. Throughout the whole thing many of the characters will: 1. Gawk. 😶 2. Squeal. 😍 3. Cringe. 😫 Only for Shadowpeach to be reminded that they did a very similar thing in the past.

yesss the honeymoon phase!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Every time I go back to look at the Spicynoodles kisses (Which has been several times a day) I think about how one day MK is gonna grab those horns mid kiss.

omg it's true. I bet Red Son has been dreaming of catching his tail-*gunshot*

@healingwordswriter ha chiesto: Hiiii so I’m back asking here So seeing how the bio dad’s AU has some inspo in Taylor’s songs and I have seen mentions of the TTPD songs in previous comments and as a fellow swiftie I just have to say this. I’m not a spicy noodles fan but! reading on how Wukong at first wouldn’t accept MK’s and Red Son’s relationship all I could think of was the song “But Daddy I love him” Like just MK just having his first fight with his baba because he wants to be with red son even if he doesn’t like it because that’s HIS man. And screaming the famous “But daddy I love him!” And Wukong just having to accept the relationship for his son’s happiness. Without mentioning is funny to imagine MK’s parents except Macaque trying to talk him out the relationship for his “sake” but MK won’t “come into his senses” Because Red Son may be crazy but he is the one he wants AND he rather burn his whole life down rather than keeping hearing his parents bitching and moaning over this. (Who understood the references understood) But in the end I know they would support MK’s decision to date Red Son as they want him to have his happy ending. Still this is funny to imagine.

ahah I personally alwasy imagine Red SOn against DBK with that son. But alas in the AU the bull family isn't against them since they know MK is one of the strongest demon (and it makes their son happy so)

And also Wukong, while he isn't the happiest about the situation, he know he would be an hypocrite if he wouldn't allow his son to now be with someone who he once was his enemy.

[resident-idiot-simp]

Listen I stand by Laura being scarier then Logan. Because Deadpool even says she's meaner and without the centuries of learning how to control the instincts?

She is quicker to lash out and less weary of how she attacks. Logan might stabbed to incapacitate but there is no promise she won't stab to kill just on instinct alone.

Now that isn't to say she's more dangerous because she's not. She's dangerous extremely dangerous, but not the level of Logan. He has too much experience on how to be a killing machine.

So what I'm saying is Laura is scarier to run across, but being hunted down you'd be worse off with Logan.

If you wonder where Deadpool is in my ranking he is between them.

He is the scariest to run across just because of how manic he is. He however won't do things on a whimsy even if you don't know that.

Everything he does is meticulous which makes him less prone to instinct driven outbursts. He however is not quite to Logan's level of just plain machine

All to say no one wants to run across any of them much less all of them.

Anyways thank you for coming to my TED talk

[mumms-the-word]

All of this is amazing and thought-provoking and explained very well. I have a couple of points to add, but only in terms of contextualizing a few choices.

First, as much as I have to sigh and shake my head that the devs and writers didn’t feel they could boldly change the status quo of the game by tearing down the Veil, I can sort of see why. If you give players the choice, how do you make another game for a fandom that had 50% of the people keeping the Veil and 50% who elected to tear it down? You can’t, it’s impossible.

So why not make tearing down the Veil the actual endgame? Have all roads lead there, rather than all roads leading to the Veil staying. I agree that it’s probably that the devs/writers just weren’t bold enough to take that road but also I wonder if they also couldn’t imagine a world without the Veil. They give us so little detail about a Veil-less world in DATV it’s like…no one (aside from Solas, who keeps being set up as unreliable even when he’s being reliable) has any clue what will actually happen. Including the writers!

That’s not even getting into the devs BS answer of “well Solas wouldn’t know either.” I imagine he wouldn’t, when it comes to details. But I doubt he spent the last 8-10 years planning and plotting and arranging things just to be like “wow I sure don’t know what will happen once I cut through this Veil I made, hope everything works out.”

What bugs me is that DATV sets up Solas’s motivation as restoring the elven people only. The host of spirits he has on standby can’t save everyone—but I’m sure he’s got them directed at saving elves. And yes, that’s his MO as Fen’Harel, the freer of elven slaves, but if his time with the Inquisition has taught him to appreciate and find value in all life (including human, dwarf, and qunari) then…

Well that brings us to the big question. The sundering of the Veil will cause massive damage. People will die, especially if Solas’s allies are focused on saving elven lives over other lives. It will be massive carnage in some way because, if we stick with the ocean/tank analogy, it’s a bit like wrecking a dam to flood a valley because you want to give them access to water. Water is harmless in small quantities, and often gentle when controlled. Water racing toward you in a deluge is deadly. Worse, it’s unstoppable.

Solas alludes to this metaphor when you ask him what a world full of spirits would be like. “Think of magic like a fast-flowing river” and all that.

Demons or no demons, the backlash of magic will probably do some major changes on its own. What does that look like? Will everything go wonky like in Arlathan forest? Will buildings begin to float, whole sections of the world that didn’t seem to exist suddenly get pulled back into being now that the Fade and physical world are made one and the same again? That’s one of the things no one could tell us.

So, okay, maybe we shouldn’t let Solas just rip apart the Veil all on his own. But I wish the game could have let us listen to Solas and his plans and given us the road to be like “okay…so how do we mitigate the damage further?”

Like can you imagine? The Veilguard not as guardians of the Veil to keep it in place but as a team of allies, and their other allies, lined up and ready all across Thedas to immediately stop the damage from getting worse. Everyone on high alert to put down any demons that slip through the cracks but also help the spirits that come through to save lives. People prepared just in case buildings start to float again or people start turning into trees or something. Convince Solas that yeah, he’s being a bit of shit by focusing only on elven lives, and get him to see the worth in preserving all lives. Then, when he’s ready to tear down the Veil again, almost all of Thedas is on hand to be reshaped.

But, and I think this is part of why DATV didn’t take that direction—that choice is very much you playing a god. Why do you (or Solas) get to be the one to remake an entire world? Solas broke it. But it’s been trucking along for the last few thousand years without his guiding hand. It’s not his world, it is its own weird nebulous thing now. And now he wants to reset it back to “the way it was,” but it’s going to cost a lot of lives and be a very traumatic change. What makes you specifically equipped to make that choice for the entire world? If you put it to a vote, how many people in Thedas would choose to risk their loved ones and tear down the Veil? Even in places where relationships with magic and spirits are much healthier?

These are the conversations I wish we could have had in DATV. What an interesting conundrum or choice that would have been. A would-be god and a mortal making that choice together. Maybe even working together to shape the world after the fall of the Veil.

Ah well…this is me rambling. There is plenty more to be said about this, criticisms and “what ifs” and “wouldn’t it be nice ifs” and so on, but I don’t want to belabor the points further. It’s just very interesting to think about!

Looking for a good post on why we should just let Solas tear down the Veil. I'm just interested in the perspective.

I know I saw a few arguments for this maybe a couple weeks back. But I have no idea where they went or who wrote them.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 59

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 56, part 57, part 58

the first part take place during part 41, the second and third part take place during and after part 44

cw: depressive thoughts when reacting to a life changing diagnosis

When he woke up from the coma, the first thing he remembers is feeling the life flow through him again. Because the last thing he remembers, was feeling fall out of him. The last time he closed his eyes, he thought it would be his last, but they opened again. He was given a second chance.

He feels it again, though, that draining feeling. Call him dramatic, but here, he’s allowed to be. Because his legs hurt from the stupid exercises, and don’t even ask him to move his arms right now. Just before he thought it was over, when he thought he could go back to the house and just rot in his pain, his doctor wanted to see him. Called him into her office and had him sit in those uncomfortable chairs. Started speaking in those damned words.

There’s no easy way to say this.

Eddie blacked out after that. His eyes closed, and part of him died again.

When they opened again, there were no tears. The doctor looked at him, expecting something. He said nothing. Wayne shifted in the seat next to him, holding a folder. He sits there in shock, avoiding looking at Eddie like it will cause the dam to burst. It probably would.

The doctor apologizes for something that’s not her fault. Gives him a hopeful message to ease the exit, and then opens the door.

Eddie has to find a way to stand, to move, to live with the information that was just given him. With squashed hopes under his feet, mixed in with dreams that can never happen now. There was no getting better from this. No fix. This was Eddie’s life.

Wayne holds out his hand for Eddie to use while getting in the car. Each time he does it, Eddie knows it’s because he cares. He knows it’s because Wayne just wants to help, in any way he can. But each time he does it, each time Eddie takes it, it feels stained by pity. Knowing that Eddie needs it, that if he were to refuse it, he might fall. Hurt himself more.

Through the past three months, Eddie’s put Wayne through so much. Mentally planning a funeral, prayers falling on seemingly deaf ears, failing each and every time to do the one thing everyone asked when he woke up, get better. Get stronger. Get back to normal.

Normal was unattainable now. It was taken from him.

The folder the doctor gave them sits in between them. Eddie picks it up and opens it. Staring at the two words that changed his life.

Peripheral neuropathy.

The words of the doctor from all those months ago repeat in his mind. The depth of the bites with the uncurable venom that they placed in his tissue, they couldn’t fix it all. They saved his life, but they could save everything. Those bats damaged his nerves beyond fixing. Eddie just had to live with it.

What cost was it to be saved, when part of him will always stay dead?

Eddie doesn’t say a word when they get back. As he walks through the house to his room, and locks the door behind him. As he stares at the guitar he might never get to play again, an unimaginable grief washes over him.

He falls onto the bed, letting the crutches fall to the floor, pulls the sheets over his head and wonders why he’s still here. Why it is so much better that he’s alive. He doesn’t feel alive. He feels like a skeleton walking around to make others feel better. Living for them instead of himself.

Would it be so cruel to ask to go back and leave him there. To take the pain that they’ve felt watching him fail to improve and turn it into the regular grief everyone knows. Instead of this pain that no one can describe. Seeing someone live but knowing that there is something so wrong that no one can fix. No one can even try.

A sob breaks out of his chest without permission. Pain comes out in the only way it knows.

The time passes, but he couldn’t care less. The light from his window starts to dim, leaving him in darkness. It embraces him. Tears become so tired they stop falling. Leaving nothing but the salty trails down the sides of face and into his hair. If he were to care, he’d wipe them away. He doesn’t. He lets it be a reminder.

Someone knocks gently on his door. He wishes they would go away and leave him be.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve’s soft voice comes through the door. In this moment, Eddie hates it. “I made some dinner, was wondering if you wanted any.”

The pain begins to curdle in his stomach, forming an anger that wants to escape. Any other day, he might find the strength to trap it until it withers and dies. Today, nothing about him is strong.

“Perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Harrington,” Eddie spits. Faster than he wants, with a cruelty that seeps so easily off his tongue. “Don’t need you watching my every move.”

Eddie hates the few seconds that Steve takes to respond. How it can vary between snapping back, and walking away hurt. Eddie hates that in either scenario, he will feel satisfied. This is what he wanted, it’s what he will constantly get. He just hates that in those few seconds, he starts to feel that guilt. Like he should apologize and try to make up for what he said.

But then Steve responds in the way that makes the guilt wash away. Every time. “Jesus, it was just an offer. Don’t have to cut my head off.”

His footsteps sound as he walks away, leaving Eddie alone with his stomach, that now food’s been mentioned, starts grumbling.

Eddie hates that he knows how to play him. He hates that he knows the tune to get the outcome he wants, but doesn’t deserve. Because he knows that if he doesn’t stop it, if he says the one thing that will turn Steve’s anger into that sad Eddie hates to see, there will be no going back.

He’s going to get what he wants. Steve to let him go, so Eddie doesn’t have to burden him. This life was cursed to Eddie and Eddie alone. No one else needed to be dragged down with him.

. . .

The second the words leave his mouth, Eddie regrets them. It’s an odd feeling to have after ignoring it. The wave that washes over him consumes him. Here, in this gaze that’s feels held for eternity, he feels like the worst person in the world.

It happened. Like the fate of a die, eventually he was going to roll that twenty. After weeks of rolling numbers inconsequential to the battle, he delt the critical hit. Opponent down, victory claimed.

Steve looks at him, broken trust in his eyes and defeat in his face. Leaving the wait for him to yell, to react, excruciating. The wait for him to do something to make what Eddie said less important. A sudden revival of the battle, where Eddie can be the one that’s slain. He deserves it. He deserves so much more than that.

Instead, Steve laughs. Pitiful and just plain sad. It gets caught in his throat, the wetness of an impending sob keeping it in.

“I didn’t mind you fighting with me because I knew why you were doing it,” he says. His voice ripe with a pain that tears everything that still works in his body apart. “But sometimes, Eddie, you’re just mean.”

He walks away. No slamming of doors. No anger. Just a walk that can’t even hide the tears starting to track down his face.

The fights were a means to an end, this was the end. Eddie got what he wanted. Steve away from him. Breaking whatever they’ve formed, making Eddie bad enough to no longer be desired. So he didn’t have to face the inevitability of Steve breaking it off anyway.

It was the coward’s way out, and he knew that.

. . .

Eddie wakes up and puts everything that happened last night in the dream category of his mind. He didn’t find Steve out by the pool, he didn’t apologize. He didn’t hear Steve’s relationship background that makes what Eddie said even more fucked up. And Steve didn’t kiss him.

Because if Steve kissed him, after all that Eddie’s said and done, that means it could really happen. He’s seen Eddie at his worst, both in death and in life, and still chooses it.

It would give Eddie a hope that he hasn’t had since before the coma, and he can’t deal with that. If he walks out of this room, and Steve takes it back, it will crush any speck of light that Eddie has. Remind him of why he was so afraid of this in the first place.

The urge is there to stay in his room, to hide away and blame a flare up just so he can avoid Steve for a little longer. Save himself from disappointment.

But, he’s already run far enough, maybe it’s time to stop and stand still for a while.

And for once, getting up isn’t a trial the size of a mountain. It isn’t easy, but it’s not as bad as it has been.

Steve’s back is turned when he reaches the kitchen, before he turns around, Eddie wants to run. It can be a dream that he only wants to believe, but isn’t real. He can go back to the safety of one sided feelings that will go nowhere. Because a broken heart is better if he’s the one breaking it, leaving it up to the other person is terrifying.

However, when Steve’s whole body perks up when he hears Eddie, and turns to look at him. Smiles like he knows. Everything in Eddie melts to the floor. One look, and he’s completely helpless.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, almost in awe. Like anything about Eddie can evoke that.

The way Eddie can barely stammer out a greeting is shameful.

Steve doesn’t say anything about it, though. Just smiles more. “I was making eggs,” he gestures to the pan on the stove, wiping his other hand on his pants, “if you wanted any.”

If Eddie wasn’t smarter, he’d think Steve is nervous. With the way his words feel forced, and practiced. The way his hands move like he has no clue that they even are. Everything Steve had given off before exuded confidence, but this. This was raw. It felt real.

Eddie sits down at the island. “Sure.”

Steve nods, cracking two more eggs into the pan. Still floundering. It’s adorable, really.

“Wayne home?” Eddie asks.

“Uh, yeah, got back like an hour ago, I think. Went up to his room.”

The toaster dings, Steve takes out the slices and puts in two more. He takes out the two eggs that were already in the pan and puts them on a plate. Placing it in front of Eddie.

“I’m not going to eat your eggs, Steve.”

“And they’ll be cold by the time I get to eat them anyway,” he reasons. Flipping the ones in the pan over. “Seriously, I don’t mind.”

Reluctantly, Eddie takes the fork and breaks his yolk. Staring at Steve peacefully waiting for his eggs to finish cooking while eating.

When Steve does sit next to him, much closer than he should, he’s begging to talk about last night. He’s starting to feel like it being real wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“Was, uh,” Eddie starts when Steve finishes. It would be too awkward to just blurt it out, but he needs to know. “When we were, when you.”

“Yeah,” Steve lightly teases, waiting.

Eddie clears his throat. “When we were out by the pool, and we, and you. When I apologized, and then you—did that. I didn’t like, dream that whole thing, right. It was real?”

“Do you want it to be real?”

Steve holds his gaze, searching for what he wants to see. Because if everything he said last night was true, Steve was just as scared as he was. For more similar, and different reasons.

Yet.

I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this way about someone before.

Eddie opens his mouth, the words failing to come out. But he forces them anyway. “Yeah. I really do.”

Steve breaths, “Me too.”

Just like that, Steve kisses him again. And it catches him off guard, again. He just reacts better this time. Gets his arms working enough to slide his fingers back into Steve’s hair and bring him closer.

“Fucking finally,” Robin’s voice breaks them apart.

“Robin,” Steve groans, not even pulling away.

“The hell did you get here?”

Robin rolls her eyes, “Three seconds ago. We’re almost late for work, but I guess I can excuse it because you finally got your head out of your ass.”

Steve finally pulls away from Eddie, his hand lingering on Eddie’s arm. “Oh my god”

“Don’t even start, me and Nancy were begging you to do something for weeks, Steven. Weeks. Months practically at this point.”

There’s so much in that statement that Eddie can’t begin to unpack.

“Speaking of, who made the first move,” Robin immediately starts to pry.

“You could give it a day before budding yourself into every aspect of my life,” Steve responds, putting all the dishes in the sink to do later.

Robin gasps. “Excuse you. I am your best friend. It is my legal obligation to know everything about you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He looks at Eddie again, those eyes keeping his without a problem. “We can talk about this more, later, ok?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, still in disbelief.

He nods. “Let’s go,” he says to Robin, starting down the hall.

Robing waits for him to leave before leaning close to Eddie. “Who made the first move, seriously.”

“He did,” Eddie says, both not wanting to get in the middle of this, but also seeing no reason not to tell.

“Damn it,” Robin groans. “I owe Nancy ten dollars.”

“You bet on me?” Steve yells from down the hall.

Robin turns toward the door. “Like you’re that surprised.”

Whatever argument they’re having gets muffled with the door closing. Leaving Eddie to process whatever just happened. Both right then, and also before. And last night all over again.

There’s this bubbling happiness that escapes in a laugh. A smile that he can’t seem to wipe off. He’s still not sure how any of this happened.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

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@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[tackytigerfic]

tacky! if you’re not fed up with talking about it: what was your macro process for first watch of the night, soup to nuts? wondering about how you broke down outlining, drafting, editing. was it different in scope from your ordinary process, or just scaled up?

soup to nuts, baby (i had to google that, it is one of those delightful phrases that we don't use here and i'm hopelessly charmed by it).

thanks for the ask, pal. i'm always interested in people's processes myself, particularly since I came to writing so late (late 30s) and have never approached it formally. i do read an awful lot and that i think is my main influence and teacher (less so in recent years but am trying to get back to incessant reading). i have also been trying to read more works in translation and to revisit classics too, as well as try more formally inventive works. this i struggle with as i'm a bit basic when it comes to reading, i like the segue 'twixt page and brain to be seamless so it's like i'm absorbing it rather than thinking about it, while ofc a more experimental style does often necessitate thinking about it. My partner (approvingly) described my original work as a 'stylistic blank' (the cleaner the better i say) and that's exactly what i like best to read - though it's always a pleasure to be dragged by the throat out of my comfort zone too.

I would always have described myself as a pantser - I never outline, never do writing exercises or character work or beat sheets or whatever (i'm quite resistant to a very structured formal approach). every fic i ever write starts with the germ of one very specific idea - a cameraflash-quick image of a scene, a piece of dialogue... whatever it is. and then i usually start to write at the start and then work my way through.

This one was fairly similar in approach, initially. I opened one doc for loose note-taking — it's where i jot down any ideas i had for scenes, any snippets of dialogue, anything I'd need to remember. I then started writing the fic itself - in this case, I actually skipped through and wrote out of order, not that I knew what order things were going to go in, as such - but I just wrote any scenes I had thought of that felt interesting to me, and skipped a lot of the world-buildingy scenes or the sort of "texture" scenes, the ones that construct a sense of the world they're in and the relationships they have. I then found myself in the position of having to go back and write those bridging scenes, and make the connections (which in some cases did not naturally fall into place) - it was not easy, and I wish i had taken a more linear approach to the writing, in retrospect.

So by the end, some scenes in this fic were written in 2021 and some in late 2024, which means that when I finally finished the rough first draft, the writing quality was patchy, the pacing was off, and some plotty stuff really didn't make sense. That's when the real hard work started.

A few people had looked over very early scenes, but the bulk of the fic was written with no input from anyone else - just three years of writing it into a vacuum without any sense of perspective. Showing it to my alpha/beta people was so nerve-wracking. they read it at different times, which was great as i could concentrate on their feedback one by one, and all three of them had different suggestions (as well as lots of overlap ofc). It was extremely helpful to see what made sense to them, and what they liked - but more significantly, what bits they went 'what the fuck' at, or which bits all three of them had issue with (i'm thinking of the ending here, i really had to kill some darlings there when all three were unanimously just like... tacky no). i had different docs for all three of them, and i worked off one master doc, deciding which changes i wanted to incorporate and how i wanted to approach them. plot stuff was a HUGE issue. the writing quality could be smoothed out - but i'm not a plotty writer and sadly this fic has A LOT of plot. so i needed to work on that. i also have some wolfstar (including a sex scene) which i was nervous about, as i have never read any wolfstar.

Once i finished all the edits, i then did one more read-through myself. I've never edited on such a significant level before. my other two longer fics were written for fests, usually in a scramble to get them done on time — this felt expansive in a way i couldn't have imagined allowing myself to be before i was in it, but as i was working it didn't feel necessary to try to force myself into speed i couldn't hope to achieve or maintain.

@sweet-s0rr0w and i had a really happy morning organising the chapter breaks, and then i had to decide on a title and write a summary. tagging was easier as i had my friends to advise.

another big difference to previous processes is the posting schedule. now i'm posting a chapter every two days, i spend the day between posts working on the upcoming chapter one more time. in all but one chapter i have made quite a few changes immediately prior to posting, which just goes to show that the work is shaping itself as it goes. It's been fascinating to me how putting the fic out into the world is giving me a sense of perspective, creative distance, and dare i say a tighter control over the narrative now that it's not just in my head anymore? so i do think any tiny remaining wrinkles are more satisfyingly flattened than i could have ever hoped for.

so in short, this work is different in scale, ambition, and process in almost every way to anything i've ever written. I can't imagine i'm likely to be able to pour myself into something so profoundly ever again, tbh. it took me by surprise, but it's been the most creatively satisfying thing i've ever done. having people finally reading it (and so generously too) is like getting a very special gift.

Regrets? Being the slowest writer in the world, being too perfectionist (not that i think it's perfect in any way, just i wanted it to be the best i could make it, when it probably would have been grand if it was ehhh fine, you know?) Also, i think i could probably have refined the pacing a bit more. We're on chapter 7 now and six months have passed, so basically the last three months of the fic take place over the last 14 chapters 🙈 But that's because this is where most of the romance and plot develops, so it makes sense that it would take up more space. And i do firmly believe that fics should be a bit self-inulgent, so why not stretch out in the parts i'm most interested in writing?

tagging @citrusses @maesterchill and @sweet-s0rr0w who i can never thank enough for the work they did to get me to this point. everyone already knows what brilliant writers all three are - what a lucky bastard i am to have had their insights and advice.

[jasontoddspussy]

It was supposed to be like any other night.

(Ignoring the fact that it was 5;30 AM, that Dick was crashing at this safe-house even though the two had been fighting in the past couple of days, and that Jason was honest to gods just tired down to his bones and he’d like to just fucking sleep ).

He shed his layers, only really being careful with his gear (his shit was good and could withstand a lot. That didn’t mean he needed to be a jackass with it.) and placing his assortment of weapons in either cases built into the walls or on a countertop. His armor, clothes and underclothes, though? Those he kicked to the curb, uncaring about wherever they ended up.

Normally he’d take a shower, wash off the stink and grime of Gotham on his skin, but he’s 99% sure if he tried to take a shower he’d slip and crack his head open like an idiot, or he’d fall asleep in his tub and drown like an idiot.

So he decided that tonight he’d deal with some wet-wipes ala hospital, though not bothering to pop-em in the microwave, and shucking off his underwear to put on some fresh ones.

Feeling just slightly cleaner, which he deemed good enough, Jason headed into his bedroom and face-planted down onto the bed, wiggling like a worm to get under the covers. He heard grumbles coming from the left side of the bed, but Jason decided he was too tired to give a shit right now.

He’ll kick Dick off of the bed if he hogs the duvet, though.

As soon as his face hits the pillow, he’s out like a light.

–

At some point during his sleep, Jason had ended up back-to-back with Dick. It’s uncommon for them to share a bed, it’s not something they’ve done since Dick was a teenager and Jason a child. Granted, they’ve passed out in a backseat together, on a couch, ect, but he’s pretty keen on not counting that as sharing a bed.

He doesn’t really mind it, per se- It’s just that Jason’s so unused to people touching him, especially kindly or softly, intimately , that it makes him feel overwhelmed.

Jason blinks, wondering what it was that caused him to wake up. Dick’s still asleep, snoring quietly in the bed next to him as the man clutches one of Jason’s bed’s pillows. He scans his room for intruders, finds nothing.

Pang .

He frowns, gaze falling down into his lap. It’s been a while since he’s felt cramps, but it does happen occasionally. Thankfully without any bleeding.

Pang .

Although it doesn’t feel quite the same way as menstrual cramps, he doesn’t really know what else it could be. Jason glances at Dick, then quietly tries to leave the bed. This bed is currently stashed up against a wall, so Jason has to sorta wiggle to the bottom till his feet hit the floor. Good thing he’s got long legs.

Dick doesn’t stir as Jason leaves the bed, silently walking towards his bathroom. It might not help, but it’s worth a try.

He doesn’t bother turning on the lights considering the Pit gave him pretty good night vision. Jason sits on the toilet, just sorta staring into space as he waits for the pain to subside.

…

It doesn’t.

Actually, it feels like it’s getting worse. Bit by bit the pangs of pain increases in frequency, turning into more of a throb as seconds turns to minutes.

Rounding at 20 minutes of nothing, Jason decides he doesn’t need the bathroom, and so he can return to bed. Gritting his teeth he stands on wobbly legs, gripping onto the sink before he can fall onto the tiled floor.

Okay, the pain is less of a throb , now, and more of a stab stab stab . Jason carefully lowers himself to the floor, taking some deep breaths hoping that’ll help him deal with the continuous waves of pain swimming through him.

This is fine, I don’t needa walk. I’ll just crawl . He thinks, turning onto his knees and letting his forearms and thighs carry most of his weight - Not his stomach.

Jason is glad he has thick skin, or else he thinks he’d get a lot of shear as he drags himself mostly by his elbows back towards the bed. As he nears it, he stops to take a break while also contemplating how the hell he’s going to get back into the bed.

He can’t do his normal hop-in from the bottom.

Guess he’s gonna have to drag himself up onto the mattress, he can probably lift most of his torso with just his arms.

Jason manages to scoot towards the edge of the mattress, get an elbow up there and heave once before one of his knees give out and he face-palms into one of Dick’s feet. Gross.

His brother mumbles something grumpily, sitting up with his hair all over the place, staring down at Jason with a confused and mildly annoyed frown.

“What’r you doin’?” Dick asks, blinking, his gaze taking in Jason’s slumped body half on the floor and on the edge of the bed, then “on the floor?” He finishes.

“‘S nothin’. I gottit handled.” Jason mutters in reply. Dick’s eyes track over his sweaty skin, probably just as bad if not worse bed-hair, and slightly shaking frame.

“And what is “it”? And great, now the asshole’s concerned and unimpressed.

“Jus’ some intense pain. ‘s prolly just cramps.”

Dick blinks. Jason can see the way his mind catalogues what Jason’s saying, his appearance and how he probably ended up on the floor from the open bathroom door to where he’s slumped, still.

“...You’re on the floor”

“Couldn’t walk.”

“Why?”

“...”

“Jason. Why couldn’t you walk?” Dick’s awake, now, leaning towards him with that stupid frown of his.

“...It’s fine. I can crawl. It’s just a bitta pain”

……..

“Jason oh my fucking-” Dick starts, hands flying everywhere as he starts to get out of bed. Jason doesn’t bother moving.

Because he’s a jerk. Not because he can’t.

“Y’know, normal people? Sensible people? Reasonable people? When they go to the bathroom to sit on the toilet and wait for pain to pass, and when it doesn’t pass only getting worse, they tend to, you know, remember there’s other people in the house.”

Jason doesn’t reply, just watches as Dick nearly trips over his own feet janking on a pair of Jason’s sweatpants that are too long (not his fault he’s a head taller, tell that to the golden green kool-aid) and a t-shirt that might belong to Tim (he’s guessing, because it seems to fit okay, if only just slightly too small) while the man keeps scolding Jason like he’s 12 and Dick’s 18 again.

“For instance a normal fucking person would probably sit there and think “o h. oh no I can’t stand up. Oh no- Brother! Friend! Help me !” then wait for someone to come and help, but I’m willing to bet my entire heritance that you, you big dumb idiot-”

“Rude.”

“ Probably thought something like “O h. I can’t stand up. Eh, it’s fine. I’ll just crawl. ” Like an idiot!”

Dick continues, then throws a hoodie at him and a pair of wonder-woman sweatpants that Jason ever so slowly begins to pull on.

He’s not gonna try to defend himself, what would be the point when Dick (unfortunately) is spot on?

Dick would just see right through him and then he’d never shut up.

“Get dressed. We’re going to the ER. I swear to everything and everyone, Jason, if you fight me on this I will call Clark and I will have him carry you in your underwear to the hospital don’t think I won’t.”

Jason’s not an idiot. He knows there’s battles you can’t win. Sometimes, you’ll have overestimated yourself, or underestimate your opponent, and the smartest thing to do is retreat and recalculate how to go about defeating the enemy. A tactical retreat.

He keeps his mouth shut and continues working on putting clothes on.

Meanwhile, Dick ruffles through the duffle-bag where he keeps all of his fake IDs, insurance crap and what-not, and packs it into a smaller bag that Jason doesn’t know where came from.

As soon as Jason’s done putting on his clothes, Dick bends down and gets ready to heave him up so he can use Dick as support to waddle.

“Didn’t nobody ever tell ya that liftin’ heavy shit sideways is like putting two adult lions on your back, damaging it?” Jason mumbles into Dick’s cheek as his brother lifts him from the floor.

“I told you that.”

“Heed your own advice, then, Goldie.”

They make a sorry sight, surely, as they waddle slowly to the elevator that this apartment complex has (Jason’s guys are the ones doing maintenance and upkeep, so he knows shit’s up to code), riding it down to the ground floor and out the door to the parking lot, where on the opposite end of it stands the unit garage doors. Jason always picks safe-houses that have a garage so he can bring his car with him.

Dick unlocks the garage doors, puts Jason on the ground real quick so he can lift the port, then unlocks the impala, throwing open the side door so he can more or less just deposit Jason in his seat before taking the drivers place.

Normally his car’s rumble is like music to his ears, but the pain’s really making it hard for him to think anything but “wow, this shit hurts”, and he doesn’t even care that the radio is on. Normally he’d be listening to an audio book or his own music. Dick likes to fiddle with the music to put on eurobeat, of all things, whenever he’s in the car. That’s why he doesn’t let the man drive, since the driver gets to pick the music. The shotgun can shut his cakehole.

But right now Dick doesn’t even look at the radio. He pulls the impala right outta the garage, wasting no time rearing up the speed as he heads to Gotham Hospital.

Jason slumps against the window.

It takes them minutes to reach their destination, but to Jason it feels more like hours. He lets Dick pull him out of his car, grabs the bag with Jason’s ID shit, then waddles to the sliding doors of the ER.

There’s about 8 other people in various states of injury waiting in different chairs placed along the walls, with 3 people in line at the front desk. A nurse greets them when it’s their turn.

“Welcome to Gotham Emergency. What can I help you with today?” They ask. Dick puts on the ‘Grayson-Wayne’ charmy smile, which somehow works despite him looking like he just rolled out of bed.

Which. He did.

“Hi! My friend here’s having some stomach pain that’s been getting worse, to the point he felt he had to crawl along the floor because he couldn’t walk.” Dick explains, polite to the nurse, sure, but Jason can still feel the jab at his choices. If he had the strength he’d kick the man’s shin.

“Alright, please fill out these forms and then pass them back to me.” They hand Dick a clipboard with a pen attached. They waddle to the closest pair of chairs, where his brother drags Jason down with him and all but forces him to use the older man as a pillow.

He listens quietly as Dick reads out the questions and answers them, it’s basic stuff like Jason’s name, age, social security #, the reason they’re there today, descriptions of symptoms, any previously known ailments or injuries that could be relevant, other diagnoses that could be relevant or pharmaceuticals (it’s probably very common for people to come in with G.I. bleeding after taking ibuprofen) that might’ve affected them in a specific time-zone. Dick dutifully fills out each one, while his other hand is running through Jason’s hair almost soothingly. He’s pretty sure he’s seen him do this with Alfred the cat, and that’s where this habit comes from, but he’s too out of it to protest right now.

(It also feels kind of nice).

Dick leaves him in the chair as he hands the nurse receptionist back the clipboard. Jason overhears them telling him that his name will be called when there’s time. In the meantime, a nurse might come with some pain killers. So long as it’s not a needle, Jason’ll prolly be fine, he thinks. His brother re-joins him in the chair, and together they wait.

He doesn’t know how long they wait, but his name is called at some point, and a gruff elder woman with graying hair greets them as they waddle into an examination room.

She takes his BP, Temperature, RF, Oxygen levels and notes it down as they wait for the radiograph people to arrive.

“I’d like to get a scan of your abdomen. Your little friend can be in here if you’re okay with it” She gestures at Dick.

“That’s fine.” He responds. He’s pretty sure he needs someone he knows around him right now less he actually freaks out.

The radiograph arrives, and tells everyone but Jason to get out. Jason, they cover with some ‘’special’’ aprons (he doesn’t know what makes them special. sure as hell not the color, it looks like a flower threw up on them-) and he puts the portable x-ray on Jason’s abdomen. It takes maybe 5 seconds, then the machine is gone and the radiograph person’s let Dick and Dr-what’s her name back inside.

“Looks like there’s air gathered here. I’d say it could be appendicitis, but you’d be better off doing a CT for more accurate prognosis”

Jason flinches, and then Dick is there, holding his hand like he’s a child.

“..He’s claustrophobic.” The man explains, saving Jason the embarrassment. The Dr. clicks her tongue.

“We’ll try ‘n be quick. Let me see when it’s free” She says, moving towards one of the staff computers they keep in every room.

“We can get there in 10, be done in 10. Your friend can come with you, but not inside the room, but you can see him outside of it.” She consoles, and Jason just nods. He knows he can’t let his fears control him like this, but at the moment he feels incredibly small. Dick squeezes his hands.

She gets a wheel-chair from the reception, and has Dick roll him as they get to the CT-scanning-room. There’s walls with windows and a door separating the actual machine. By the wall sits a bunch of people in uniforms in front of a couple monitors. Dick keeps Jason’s gaze each step of the way as he’s stripped into a hospital gown, as he’s being injected with the (very cold) dye, and as he gets onto the board that’s going to slide him into the scanner.

It’s not a coffin. He’s not buried.

He’s not dead.

Jason doesn’t trust his eyes, so he closes them and tries thinking about other things that aren't the taste of wet mud. He thinks about flying with Superman. He thinks about hanging with Kori, Roy, Artemis and Bizarro despite him being the youngest. He thinks about neapolitan ice-cream banana splits with whipped cream, candied hazelnuts and chocolate ganache.

Before he knows it, he’s back outside and Jason’s re-taken his place in the wheelchair. Dick is rubbing his shoulders back and forth, anxiously, as they wait for the Doctor to tell them what’s up.

As if summoned, she walks back into the room, the other people who’d been sitting by the computer leaves, and she levels her calm gaze at them.

“So, turns out your appendix is about to burst. And we need to get that removed immediately, as in within now .” She tells them. Dick’s hands freeze on his shoulders.

“He’s headed to surgery?” The man asks, frowning.

“Yes. I’ve called down a nurse to help him get ready, then bring him to the OP room. You can be there until he’s sedated.”

“Alright.”

Dick wheels Jason into a different room, led by a nurse, who puts him into a different hospital gown (with socks? for some reason?), and puts him into the hospital bed that he’s going to be sedated in. The Doctor arrives, then, as Dick holds Jason’s hand while an anesthetic nurse inserts an IV to put him to sleep.

“Also, by the way, you have a tumor.” She starts. Jason blinks. “But don’t worry about that right now.” The Doctor finishes. He feels something cold go into his arm.

He looks at Dick, who looks flabbergasted, right back at him.

“Wha-?” Jason manages to utter before he passes out.

In his weird, anesthetic-fuelled dreams, Jason’s chased by a tumor.

“Don’t worry about that right now” The tumor tells him.

“Well how could I worry about something like that ” He tells the tumor.

He makes sure his middle fingers are proudly presented to really nail in the point.

It feels about as amused as Dick eating Alfred’s cucumber sandwiches.

[fewsystemsinonebody]

someone still crying as tears go down even tho they don't feel anything anymore after switching with the one who felt sad if that counts

us having a dissociative attack even tho it started for another person (not an emotion but still a continuation of some sort)

used to have an alter who was screaming and crying for us in head space when we needed emotional regulation

Pink wanted to call our doctor because we feel ashamed to do so and still couldn't because we all felt the huge "I don't wanna" and that made him unable to despite the fact he didn't feel afraid

feeling other alter's feelings in "the back of our head" knowing those aren't truly ours but still notocing them which makes us feel weird/uneasy/disturbed/annoyed in general, sometimes we're startled by sudden flood of emotion from another part and we might even mistake it for ours even if it's an intrusive thought but only for a very short time

us making a certain face or say specific words (even in head space) and it creates a fake feeling that reminds our body of smth similar so other alters are untrusting/confused of their intentions/meaning until explained - more an influence of observing the surroundings and medias + memories, actually wonder if someone makes a face like on a gif... do you feel like that gif? because we sometimes do even if it meant smth else to us entirely XD

attack because of something we don't remember but body does

seeing someone in hs and body mimicking their movements without being in co-front

panic attack after trigger even tho we understand we're not in danger as we misunderstood the situation - happened only once

just being blurry? especially when tired and I dunno who's me so obviously no idea which emotions are mine

not being sure who is fronting and for a moment having emotions of an alter by borrowing it due to being mistaken to your own identity - can't explain it well but we sometimes can switch and not notice that then still think certain alter is on the front thinking I love someone when I don't then realising that I don't because... I'm somebody else but for a moment if we don't think much about it we don't care if we truly feel it as we "remember" we're supposed to lol

having non fitting traits/triggers/trauma that split immediately after trigger (leftovers of those alters who are gone - their traits can fall on alters and don't fit which causes splits later)

wanting to do things for others - I "feel" you would like it, I'm sorry you went through that so I'm so empathetic I can feel your pain that even I can be angry for you, I'm "crushing" on someone majority of us are interested in but not as an individual (just happy for others) etc

I'm still nervous/stressed/anxious/afraid even tho we switched and I need some time adjusting/calming down

bad emotions overwhelming the "healthier/happier" part of the system as we share the same body/mind - not anxious in head space but anxious outside for example even if they don't have their own reason at the time or have at least less reasons to

someone's anger affecting entire system, especially alters who are prone to anger even if they don't really have their own reason to be mad at this very moment but they're like set on fire (possibly anger holders)

depressed/suicidal state of the system even if I want to live as an individual even resulting in alter fronting to kms for others without his own will to do so or hearing intrusive thoughts

fragments not having their own emotions if any at all "feeling" those for others in a weird way like they're ordered to (were tought)

intrusive thoughts attacking us like a disease taking control of our thinking or actions for a moment - we're not being ourselves during those moments (usually during very stressful time, being super exhausted/sleepy or very angry)

hope I understood the assignment, if that's not helpful then I'm really deeply sorry!

hello sysblr. please help me out!

can you all tell be about your experiences with emotional influence and emotions 'bleeding through' from another part/alter?

i had an experience recently that is making me think again.

[wintersxldiers]

Well HI MOOT!

honestly I'm so sorry it took me so long to write this but here it is and I hope I did it justice but I'm not sure. I'M SORRY!

warnings: not proofread, quick paced, kinda rushed ending I guess? FLUFF, one tiny tiny kiss, female reader, use of Y/N, Hint of future angst

Word count: 1431

summary: You're a student in college and you get a new History professor but you were not prepared at all for what he may bring to the table, or rather to your heart.

You walked into your favourite class, History. You walked in, clutching your books close to your chest when you noticed something strange. Instead of your usual teacher at the desk there was a young man. He had to be mid twenties, no more, no less. The man had a defined jawline, a scruffy but tidy beard alongside the nicest mop of tousled hair you had ever seen. His glasses sat low on his nose as he looked around the classroom, gazing at every student who walked through the door of the lecture hall. After the majority of the students had entered he began speaking. “afternoon students, my name is Professor Barnes and I will be your new History teacher. A little bit about me, I'm twenty five and just finished my training for teaching, so here I am.” Mr Barnes glanced around the room often catching the majority of the female audience gazing at him with heart eyes. That is apart from one student. You. He kept his gaze on you before speaking up again to take attendance. As he does, he scans the room, focusing on each student as he calls their name. Then it was your turn. “Y/N” he calls out and you raise your hand in response.He averts his gaze back to his paper and smiles to himself, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady.

For the next couple of lessons and lectures you have with Professor Barnes, you can’t help yourself and start to feel yourself becoming more intrigued with him and wanting to talk to him more. One lesson in particular you catch yourself staring multiple times as your professor explains about the Civil Rights Movement. You blush when you realise and you mentally facepalm yourself. You point your gaze down towards your desk for a while before you look up after a while and when you do, you lock eyes with the handsome man that is your professor. You blush slightly and look down, not wanting to make it apparent that you’re flustered. You would rather die than let your professor of all people discover the huge crush you had harboured on this man. 

You had a few small bantering conversations with him, in and out of class. It started with those longing glances, then it was you lingering around his Lecture hall during your free periods and breaks just as an excuse to see him. You always stared at him from afar, sporting heart eyes every time you saw him. You found him funny, both of you sharing the same sense of humour. You would sometimes sit in his class and talk to him about random things, just having small conversations about anything you guys could think about. These conversations never lasted long, fifteen minutes at most, you with your social anxiety couldn’t deal with carrying on a conversation for any longer than that.

However after one particular lecture with him you stay back after class. Upon realising you had stayed back your professor took extra care to usher everyone out of the class. You didn’t really talk much so you wanting to voluntarily stay back and speak to him gave him an overwhelming feeling of dread mixed with excitement at what you wanted to speak about. He wished it wasn’t anything bad though, such as you not enjoying his class or wanting to drop out.

After everyone had been cleared out of the class, you approached his desk. “Professor, I was wondering if I could talk to you about the syllabus and the exam?” you ask nervously, anxiously picking at the skin of your fingers while biting your bottom lip slightly. Both were nervous habits which you had picked up from childhood and you couldn’t seem to let them go. You nervously adjust your glasses and take a breath which is when he responds. “Of course you can, what's going on?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against his desk, making direct eye contact with you. You take a deep breath and start asking questions about the syllabus and exams. 

After a couple of minutes of you rambling you start to feel your eyes brim with tears. That was strange, you knew you were a sensitive soul when talking to different people for extended periods of time, because of your social anxiety, but this was next level. You try to blink away the tears behind your glasses but the overwhelming feelings of stress and anxiety alongside social issues  with your friends were eating you up inside and you couldn’t hold back anymore. You felt the hot tears streaming down your face as you tried to wipe them away with the oversized sleeve of your hoodie.”I-I’m sorry sir” You mumble out, wanting the ground to swallow you whole at that point.”hey its okay…” He says softly, as a new teacher he didn't have much experience with dealing with student home issues and feelings, especially that of a teenage girl. “Wanna talk about it?” He asks slowly, wanting to help you but also not wanting you to feel like you’re being forced to confide in him. 

You take a deep breath and start rambling about your problems, Your stress from school, your issues with friends and your anxiety that has been bubbling up inside of you. When you’re done rambling you paused and took a breath and looked at him. You wiped your tears and locked eyes with him “I’m sorry i just dumped that on you…” You mumble and sniffle through your tears, not wanting to come off as unhinged or mentally unstable. “Hey it’s okay Doll, you don’t have to apologise for anything” He reassures you, the nickname ‘Doll’ slipping off his tongue like it's second nature. “I’m your teacher and I wanna help you, that's what i'm here for” He smiles at you, desperate to reassure you that there's no shame in confiding in him. 

He sighs “Y/N I don’t wanna see you like this, it's not a good look” He says and you gulp, fearful of his next comment. “You don't deserve that treatment and you should look for more ways to relieve your stress. You’re a smart woman Y/N, you should give yourself more credit than this…” He comments softly “I really want you to be more confident in who you are Y/N, you’re an amazing person and you need to see that…you need to be shown that.” You don't realise but you start tearing up again at his words, your body slowly gravitating towards him more as he speaks, subconsciously wanting more of his comfort, as much as he could potentially offer. 

He continued to speak about developing your confidence skills and believing in yourself more while you gulped the tears and emotions back down. Your eyes begin to roam freely around his body and face. Both looking like they had been sculpted by the Gods, this man was a work of art and most students knew it. Then, your eyes land on his lips, you knew it was wrong enough to even look at this man in an aspect that he became a hardcore crush, but now? You were screwed, the way you stared at his perfectly round lips as they moved during his motivational speech to you, the way showed how he cared. The admirable way he remembered the little things about you. The way he treated you with kindness and respect, not treating you as inferior to him as a student but as an equal. It felt…comforting in a way, knowing someone was on your team, on your side. 

You slowly bought your gaze up to his eyes instead and locked gazes with him. He looked at you in the eye, "need a hug Doll?" He asked and you hesitated, not knowing if you could control yourself and keep it at just a hug. You nodded after a second and he wrapped you into a bear hug, your head on his chest, directly on top of his heart.

After a while you break apart and your faces are inches apart. You can feel his breath softly fanning your face and you scream internally. You close your eyes and don't speak before you hear him whisper. "Can I kiss you Doll...? please...?" You don't need any form of persuasion before nodding and leaning forward, pressing your lips against his.

He grabs the base of your neck as you kiss before the door of the lecture hall slams open. "what the fuck?!" A voice calls out. Shit.

[cinnamonsikwate]

i'm really curious about what marcille's mother's deal is. seems like she's not too big on the rest of elven society. here's what we know about her so far:

mage at a human royal court (adventurer's bible)

courtship with marcille's father donato lasted 17 years (adventurer's bible)

specialty is roast pork, which was also donato's favorite (chapter 81)

had a cheerful personality up until the point donato got too sick to eat his favorite food. her extreme emotional reaction to this left a lasting impression on marcille (chapter 81)

remarried to a gnome and moved away from the city at some point after donato died (adventurer's bible)

several portraits of her appear in marcille's nightmare (chapter 42); this is the second time we see marcille dream of her (chapter 3)

preferred non-elven food and didn't introduce marcille to any traditional elven dishes (chapter 74)

from the canaries' reactions in chapter 74, it appears elven society looks down on elves who go to live among and work for short-lived races. they seemed especially put off that she would have a mixed-blood child. when they're talking about the lyrikmumare to get marcille to trip up, marcille envisions her mother saying that the food "here" (i.e., the northern continent) tastes so much better. so the picture we're getting here is of an elf who has removed herself from elven culture, but the question is, did she do it willingly or was she forced to?

keeping her other actions in mind, i'm leaning more towards the former. the most intriguing thing for me is that she eventually married a gnome, despite elves and gnomes having infamously waged war against each other over differences in the practice of magic and presently tending to discriminate against the other on sight. (one thing's for sure — marcille's mother is winning the idgaf war!)

marcille never talks about her gnome stepfather though, and it's unclear what she thinks of her mother's remarriage. the timing of the remarriage is also a mystery. donato married marcille's mother when he was 32 (after having courted her for 17 years) and died at 82, meaning they were married for 50 years. marcille is also currently 50 years old, but we know she wasn't born immediately after the marriage: in chapter 81, donato's doppelganger says marcille was born when he'd started "getting on in years." based on marcille's memories of him and the established fact that the average tall-man lifespan is 60 years, i'd hazard that he was in his 50s then. this gives him 30 years or less with marcille — definitely less than 35, which we know is the age at which she left for the magic academy.

we don't know if marcille's mother remarries before or after marcille leaves (if before, than that's definitely a shockingly short time), but it's interesting that she chose to marry someone from a long-lived race this time. maybe this is her way of ensuring she spares herself another heartbreak? or maybe she *is* still heartbroken and is trying to cover it up.

but. i can't help but kind of agree with chilchuck in chapter 81, that marcille's parents are not blameless for marcille becoming the dungeon lord. since it's apparently well-documented, they surely must have known — as well-educated people — that mixed-blood children face not just discrimination but also mental anguish that comes with their unstable aging (not to mention the sterility). so the way they raised marcille feels frankly irresponsible 😭

anyway. i'd love to get spin-off content where post-adventure marcille and her mother meet again. i feel like there's a lot of unresolved issues there (that can of course be hashed out over a good meal).

[scoriarose]

She heard me doing things so she came up to the side of her baby bin and blelelelele'd at me until I noticed her. She greets me every morning where we spend the first hour of every day together, her just resting in my hand and me holding her, often gently petting her head and tiny scales. If there is a heaven, that first hour we spend together is it.

She is getting a larger enclosure for her birthday in a month and a half. :D Hopefully I can get it done in time, as I haven't sculpted a custom enclosure before and will be trying some new artistic critiques. I do have experience sculpting though. My biggest worry is the paints and sealing them properly! Art I can do- but food safe art that will be in a moist bioactive enclosure is new for me.

[milfbrainrot]

"claire's a bad mom" claire chose to have her kids claire tells her kids bedtime stories and claire pretends not to be in life threatening danger when she's terrified for her own and her kids' safety to help them stay calm and literally only wants to know if they're okay before prioritizing herself and keeping them far away from danger by rescuing herself i think ur just racist

[puck1919]

So many wild and crazy things about this episode, but I do love that the new battleground for advancing the dome projections is "Full video from previous seasons".

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

I'm so glad to see more people talking about just how disturbing Yuno's situation actually is and how maybe it did fuck up her 18 year old psyche to have middle aged men sleep with her

[thingsanthoughts-on-lifeanfandom]

Genuinely from someone who is used to long winters and sunless days

Keeping warm

Wool underwear does wonders. Honestly even the cheap stuff is good, you can put it on underneath your work clothes and it helps so much

Layer up - no shame in having a jumper or even a blanket at work. Our office has some blankets that you can take from the reception or bring in your own.

Hot water bottle is a great addition to blankets and or to have under your jumper. If your work has a kettle, make sure to use it and refill the bottle throughout the day as necessary

If you're sitting next to a plug, investing in a mini heater is great. There are both mini radiators and warm air heaters that can stay under the table, are more or less silent and don't take much electricity. And if your work makes a fuss about the electric, tell them to turn their own heating up

Sunlight

Living without the sun sucks and it is underrated how much it affects us when we lack any sunlight at all

If you can, try to take 5-15 minutes during lunch to stand outside. On days when the skies are clear, find a sunny spot and stand there facing the sun. Sneak out "for a smoke" and do it of your lunch is a bit tight. It may be little but it will help

Prioritise sunny weekends. Try to be awake during the light hours on the weekend (despite the temptation to sleep in). If it's sunny outside, again try to go for a walk or be outside at least 30 minutes if you can.

Take vitamin D supplements. May not improve your mood, but will help the immune system.

This one is not for everyone, but if you can afford it, take a trip to the tanning places, one of those that use UV rays to give you a tan (I can't find the English word for it). Depending on where you are, it may be various amounts of availability and pricing for these, but 30 minutes to get some of artificial sunlight can also help.

On surviving winter in general

Winter is hibernation period for everything and although humans don't sleep through all of it, it's still a low energy period for us as well. So a few tips for getting through the winter.

You will likely have less energy. That's fine. This is meant to be a less productive time of the year to rest and preserve energy. Use less energy if you can, make sure to rest up and get the sleep you need (it's not "wasting time" to provide your body with rest)

Do something you enjoy. Winter depression can be tough, so find some hobbies, something that is fun, pleasurable and or relaxing.

Do some winter activities! It's not all dark and depressing, winter can be great fun too. From winter forest walks, making snowmen and skating / skiing, to drinking hot chocolate, sitting by the fire and cozying up in blankets. Don't forget the holidays, go to Christmas markets and to decorate your own space even just a little.

This will be person dependent, but it can be a good time to visit friends or family and just relax together. Put on a movie and some hot drinks and you got yourself a splendid evening.

Most of all remember that it's going to be better, the sun will turn in just a couple of weeks and the days will start getting longer again. You have survived the past years just like you will get through all the future years. You make the best out of it and you do what you can to make it fun and enjoyable

Stay safe out there!

How do yall survive winter in office jobs? I go to work in the dark, get out when its dark (i havent seen the sun in several days now) and i have to deal with extra obnoxious customers and coworkers while also freezing bc our office refuses to invest in heat. This is brutal. Any advice is greatly appreciated

Posted by admin Rodney

[tj-crochets]

Crafting update! This one takes a little bit of explaining lol So, sometimes I am struck by the urge to make a thing, and it is extremely difficult for me to focus on anything else creative until I at least start to make the thing. Usually I finish making the thing, sometimes I don’t, but as long as I start making it, I can work on other things too.  Usually, the thing turns out well.  Last week, I had an allergic reaction that required I take a benadryl during the day, something I try not to do because it can make me a little loopy. I was mostly fine, just tired and getting ready to go to bed, but then inspiration struck: I had to make a hamster pattern. Right then. Immediately. At like “thirty minutes past when I should have been asleep” o’clock. I sat down on the floor and started drawing a hamster pattern, added the seam allowance, cut it out, and was like “okay job done” and went and slept for like ten hours. I woke up the next day to find I’d forgotten hamsters have limbs???? I remembered the ears and the tail, but not the limbs. I’d also been very ambitious with the pattern shaping for something I did exactly zero measuring or comparing seamlines on. Then, today my brain was like “okay hamster time! time for hamster!!” So I have a hamster half-sewn and I have no idea whatsoever what it’s going to look like when it’s done

[britneyshakespeare]

Don't tell my mom but this new puppy loves me the most