#absolute waste of time. anyhow

[elecman108]

This is my only flex, ever.

How well do you see color?

I’m cry I scored 60, I feel blind

[peppermintquartz]

The rose-colored glasses come off only around month four of their relationship, and even then a tint of soft dusky pink remains like a filter in front of Buck's eyes.

He knows Tommy's sense of humor is dryer than Death Valley, and he tends towards morbid commentary, but Buck finds tapeworms and maggots fascinating, so they match in that aspect anyhow.

What Buck doesn't clock at first - because it doesn't happen to him - is how bitchy Tommy can be.

--

Eddie shows up for movie night with a moustache over his upper lip.

Tommy raises his eyebrows. He radiates judgment. "You're branching out to being a porn star or is this a tribute to Eddie Guerrero?"

Buck doesn't even know who Eddie Guerrero is, but Eddie Diaz definitely does, going by the narrowing of his eyes, and he punches Tommy's shoulder none-too-gently about it.

Tommy pretends to stagger. "I didn't even make a comment about lying, cheating and stealing."

"Fuck you, Kinard."

"I got Evan for that," Tommy snarks back.

After the movie, Eddie dumps the remaining popcorn into Tommy's hair. Tommy wrestles Eddie to the ground, and feeds him a handful he snatches out of his curls. Buck is laughing too much to separate them.

--

"You're here to eat dinner, not each other's faces," Chimney says with a roll of his eyes.

"It's not like I'm scarring your child," Tommy drawls. "I'm sorry you're insecure about seeing two super hot hunks showing affection. Go kiss your wife about it."

"Don't tease him," Maddie scolds. "And behave."

Tommy ducks his head. "Sorry, Maddie."

Buck scratches the tip of his nose, because he's the one who has been running the top of his foot up and down Tommy's calf.

But then Tommy leans over the table to kiss Chimney on the forehead and gazes intently into his eyes. "Sorry, gorgeous. Next time, if I'm allowed, I'll eat your face."

While Chimney sputters, Buck smacks Tommy on his tricep.

"You have my permission," Maddie says, grinning.

"You don't have mine," Buck growls.

Chimney sputters, "Maddie!"

"I'm not insecure seeing two hot hunks make out in front of me," Maddie says, taking a sip of her wine with an arched brow and a wink.

--

They're cut off by a motorcyclist in a plaid shirt, blasting heavy metal as it goes, weaving in and out of the traffic on the freeway.

"Inconsiderate jerk," Buck grumbles.

"Nah, not that inconsiderate." Tommy drums his fingers on the wheel, his shades making him look like an A-list movie star. "He's wearing graph paper. Easy to calculate how much of a waste of space he is."

Buck almost chokes on his iced coffee.

--

"...and then Uncle Tommy said to Jessica Denson, 'I would call your parents, but I doubt they wanna talk about their biggest disappointment'," Mara says, a huge gleeful smile on her face.

Hen looks askance at Tommy, who shrugs unrepentantly. "What? She was taunting Mara about being adopted."

"And you're absolutely right to say that," Karen says, holding up a hand for a high five, and Tommy gives it to her.

Buck sighs. "Sorry, Hen."

She makes a face. "Nah. She deserves that. But next time, you pick her up."

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Live for us | {SaneObaGiyuu}

Theme: Angst+fluff+angst!

Note: TW's!! self harm, suicide, self degradation, blah blah, ok you get it

they're already dating and tanji doesn't exist <3

×××

There was a thing about life that made it so unappealing. Several things, actually. But for one, you don't even make it out alive. What's the point? What do you live for if you're just going to die in a couple years? You don't even know if you'll make it past tomorrow. So what's the point?

The fact stood, however, that if Giyuu died, he would no longer see Sanemi and Obanai anymore. Which seemed to be the sole reason he was alive. He didn't even know if he should keep living for them. He was a nuisance anyway. He would only bother them and they were better off alone. He wondered, often, if they would notice if he died.

Though they did seem to notice other things. Like if he was quieter than usual—which was saying something, considering he was often quiet—or if he hadn't been eating. His eating problems weren't like Obanai's. They were selfish—Obanai's made sense.

Giyuu didn't eat because he hoped he would starve to death. He would waste Sanemi's carefully made food just because he wasn't happy. He was stupid.

He was so sure that Sanemi and Obanai were quite done with him. He figured that if they weren't so nice, they would've dropped his ass immediately. He had forced them into the relationship anyhow, right? He'd forced himself into theirs. Somehow, for some reason, they had let him. They acted as if they loved him—but did they really?

Sometimes, when he watched them, he could imagine that they would be perfectly fine without him. Smiling and laughing. They looked good together. They were better off without his presence. He was nothing but a river between to pieces of land, pushing them apart. He only ruined things. 

They insisted, for his sake, that he wasn't annoying. They said they loved him. They said they cared. But they couldn't truly, right? Shinobu had said it herself—nobody liked him. Nobody wanted to be his friend, much less his boyfriend. So how had he gotten two boyfriends? Simple. They were too kind to let him down. They probably figured he would cry like a fucking baby and follow them like a stupid child if they rejected him. He would. He probably would.

That was the worst of it. He knew why they hated him. But he couldn't let himself to accept it. Or, at least, leave them be. He stuck to them like glue, unwilling to leave their side. You see, they were the only people who could make him feel, even just for a split second, that he might possibly want to live. That he might be worth it. That life might be worth it. Just for a minute. And it was the most selfish thing he ever let himself keep. He refused to be selfish, typically, but he needed it. Wanted it. He longed for it. Yearned for it to last. A little longer. A minute more. 

×××

Sanemi knew what it looked like when someone hurt themself deliberately. He would know. He used to do it. But that was in the past. He hadn't given it much of a thought again after months—years—passed. He began to feel content again and mostly forgot that he'd ever had an episode like that. 

Obanai and Giyuu were his absolute pride and joy—and Genya, though he would never admit it to anyone. They made him feel as if he could lead a somewhat normal life, or at least die a content death. So he went along with his life just fine for a while. Until Giyuu stumbled into his house, face pale and arms slack.

For a moment, he got a sense of déjà vu. He didn't understand it at first and simply picked up Giyuu, asking if he was alright. Then it hit him.

The first time he had purposefully harmed himself, he hadn't been sure what was wrong with him. It was when Masachika was alive. Sanemi hadn't slept well that day and had awoken with a surge of guilt and pain. He didn't understand himself. He had grabbed his katana and numbly drew it down his own body, watching blood spill from the wounds. The blade had been sharp. And he had pressed much too hard. But the pain felt relieving, as if feeling some pain would make up for the loss of his family, his siblings he'd been unable to protect. It soothed his mind. But then Masachika had entered the room.

The katana had dropped and suddenly his wounds stung in a million other ways and he no longer felt the momentary comfort from them. He cried out, standing. He had wobbled towards Masachika, unsure what he was doing. He was sure, now, that he must've looked exactly as Giyuu did now. Collapsing into Masachika's arms, molded by the concern lacing his friend's gaze.

He must've looked the same. Pale and shaky. Wondering what the hell had he done.

Sanemi tugged Giyuu's sleeves up. When he had done it, it had been all over his body. His legs, his arms, his chest. But he had caught a glint of bandages from under Giyuu's haori sleeve. It hadn't been there earlier and he hadn't gone on any missions since they had last met.

The bandages were stained red. It was only one arm, but it was still one arm. It was still there.

He scooped Giyuu up, taking him to his room. He placed him down on the futon, ordering him to stay there before shouting at his crow to go find Obanai and scouring his bathroom for towels and bandages. 

When Obanai had arrived, they had mopped up Giyuu's arm, putting light pressure on the wounds as they dabbed the blood with the towel. The bandages were wrapped around his arm and then they pulled him under the covers of the bed, quiet. They stole worried glances, holding Giyuu in a tight embrace.

After Giyuu had fallen asleep, they had spoken to one another in hushed tones for hours. They hadn't known that Giyuu had been unhappy to the point he would do something like this. And Sanemi feared it wasn't a one-time thing. That it was worse. That it would spread. 

Obanai suggested they spoke to Giyuu about it. He said that they would have to help him, somehow. To make him have something to live for, maybe.

When they talked to Giyuu, the following day, over this matter, he had brushed it off.

"I'm alright," he had said. "I was just feeling bad yesterday."

Neither believed him. Giyuu had never been the best at lying. He hadn't suddenly gotten the talent to.

They ended up dragging him back to Sanemi's house for another cuddle session. This time, however, they involved Giyuu in the talking. The conversation went back and forth time after time, constantly revolving back to the fact that Sanemi and Obanai loved him dearly and then Giyuu denying it and assuming they didn't.

In the end, however, they were satisfied with the results. Giyuu ended up contently snuggling into their hugs and finally giving up with his argument. he seemed a bit happier after the talk and Sanemi and Obanai relaxed slightly.

Of course, they of all people should've known to never let their guard down. But it's only human to forget every now and then. Even when it comes at the worst times possible.

×××

It would've been a lie to say that Giyuu hadn't felt better after his boyfriends told him how much they loved him for an hour straight. But it would've also been a lie to say that it helped him on the long run. See, it made him feel better for about two hours after the talk. Roughly. And then his mind ran wild.

They must've been telling him that to make him stop being a burden to them. So they would stop having to help him. They probably felt pressured to do it. Yes, that was it. They didn't love him as much as they said they did. Words were empty, right? Promises didn't save Tsutako's life. Neither did they mean much when they told him "I love you." They didn't love him. They shouldn't. They wouldn't. Who would love him anyway? It was illogical. Unlikely. Stupid.

The thoughts molded his mind. They made up his thoughts. They made him want to curl up in a ball and cry. And maybe get dehydrated from that and die. Then in that moment he made a decision. It wasn't a sober one. He wasn't in the right mind. But it was far too late to stop him.

He was being ludicrous. Of course they didn't love him! Of course they wanted him out of their sight right away! Why would they care about him? There was nothing appealing about Giyuu; he was quiet and stubborn and annoying. He was nothing but another person to worry about because he was too childish and careless to take care of himself. So he was better off gone. Out of their lives.

His hand was on his katana, pulling it out of his sheathe. Then the blade was at his throat. He felt nothing more.

×××

It came, as would be expected from anyone but Giyuu, a shock. At first, the Hashira were confused. Was this a joke? It was the middle of the day. What had happened to Giyuu? How had he died? And then one word fell upon their ears and they were stiffened with shock. 

"Suicide."

The news reached Sanemi and Obanai first—who were on their way to Giyuu's house to hopefully spend some time together. They had been making their way idly to his house, talking lightheartedly. Then a crow swooped by. Was that Kanzaburou?

The word of Giyuu's death that he'd inflicted upon himself had barely left the bird's beak before the two had dropped their food—which they'd had to maybe convince Giyuu to eat lunch with them—and rushed to his house. The door was broken open—there was no use knocking.

The house was eerily silent for the middle of the day. Their footsteps, though loud, and their calls of his name didn't fill in the quiet that had befallen over the house. They stopped dead at his bedroom door, eyes wide but face otherwise slack with shock. Giyuu's body was slumped down, his head deattached from his body. His katana was held loosely in his hand, blood dotted vaguely on the blade. He was dead.

First came the shock. The processing. Then panic surged both Hashira forward and they stumbled towards his body, kneeling by his side. There was no hope on saving him. There couldn't be.

They searched the room. Had there been something to trigger him? No. What was it? Had they not done enough? Had they made it worse? What had happened? What the hell had fucking happened?

The news rippled through the Hashira. A death like this, though not uncommon for Demon Slayers, was the first amongst the Hashira in decades. Because of that, several Hashira were at Giyuu's house within minutes of getting the occurance. They found Sanemi and Obanai bent over Giyuu's body, clutching each other and shaking. Tears didn't seem to be coming out but silent screams rendered them useless as Tengen slowly pulled Giyuu from under them, wrapping him in a blanket to be buried.

Neither Sanemi nor Obanai knew what had happened. But both blamed themself. And the cycle began.

×××

« Word count: 1921 »

sun is shining, birds are singing, nice day to write angst!

[tkingfisher]

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

[galedekarios]

gale & his mother, morena dekarios

i thought it'd be nice to have a place to compile everything i could find about gale's mother, morena dekarios.

the first time you as the player get a vague mention about gale's parents is after saving mirkon, when gale brings up a story about his parents denying him a kitten when he was still a child:

Gale: One time my parents denied me akitten, so I summoned myself a tressym.

if you play a gale origin playthrough, you get a mention of her much earlier from tara, after she joins the camp.

this is a camp dialogue with its variants from act i:

Tara the Tressym: Well, if it isn't my favourite fellow himself. Player: How are things back in Waterdeep? Tara the Tressym: More or less the same - though news of some mad faction calling themselves 'Absolutists' is starting to trickle in. Tara the Tressym: I told your mother not to worry. That if they were anything to worry about, Baldur's Gate would handle things quick-sharp. Keep them from spreading their tendrils north. She still wants to know when she'll see you again, sir. I avoid giving any answers. But she misses you. Player: I miss her too. Tara the Tressym: I'll tell her. With my Cat Flap of Displacement, I can afford the occasional visit. I'd bring you along, if I could. Perhaps some day. - Player: I can't risk putting her in danger. Tara the Tressym: I know that, but she doesn't. She'd keel over if she knew just how you'd tried to manipulate the Weave. Or maybe she'd just say something like, 'My Gale always was one to make the impossible possible.' Oh, but she adores you. - Player: No more guilt trips, Tara. Please. Tara the Tressym: But then whatever will we talk about? Anyhow - I'm keeping my senses pricked for any sign of another item that might be of use to you. Hopefully something will turn up soon.

it's clear from the dialogue that gale's mother worries about him and loves him - adores him, really.

it also becomes clear that she doesn't know what happened to gale and that he nor tara has not told her.

another mention from act i, again from tara:

Tara the Tressym: Please tell me you've at least made inroads when it comes to finding someone to settle down with. Myself and Mrs Dekarios are starting to think you intend to die alone. Player: You've been visiting my mother? Tara the Tressym: Naturally. After you abandoned her, there was only me left to keep her company. She's very good company, though. Ah, the stories we've traded over toast and tea. You're a highly entertaining source of speculation. But speculation only goes so far! Tell me, Mr Dekarios - how have you been?

tara and morena are implied to have tea together regularly enough to trade stories about gale. tara is implied to be a sort of messenger between the two of them, likely after gale's isolation and subsequent abduction by the nautiloid, keeping morena informed, yet without revealing gale's secret and shame.

the devnotes also state that tara loves morena - high praise since other devnotes states that tara hates everyone except gale - and that she talks of her in an affectionate tone.

this is a dialogue in act ii after mystra has tasked gale to use the orb the moment he finds the heart of the absolute:

Tara the Tressym: Promise me, Gale. Promise me you'll find another way. Promise me you'll return home, when this is all over. Player: I can't make that promise, Tara. Tara the Tressym: You're going to kill me. And your mother. And then there'll be no one to mourn you when you've wasted yourself for no good reason at all.

i find it very interesting here in terms of other relationships that tara explicitly says that there will be no one to mourn gale except morena and her should he heed mystra's instructions and sacrifice himself. it speaks of the bond between tara, morena and gale - but also even more of gale's isolation and loneliness. we know from tara that she considers herself to be gale's only old friend and gale echoes as much. we also know that gale describes the dekarios family as the dekarios clan, that is "scattered" far and wide.

at the same time, the loud silence about gale's father becomes really apparent again. a while ago, i speculated about gale's father and i truly do still think that he abandoned morena and gale.

another snippet from an act ii convo, before gale reveals the details of elminster's letter to tara (or chosing to keep it to himself):

Tara the Tressym: I'm not one to pry. I'd rather make up all the juicy details myself over tea with your mother.

which again ties in with a similar line from act i, further cementing the fact that this is a regular thing between tara and morena.

still in act ii, tara says this if gale asks her if she'll still love him if he is a mindflayer:

Player: Will you love me when I'm a mind flayer? Tara the Tressym: Depends. Are mind flayers warm-blooded? If so, my prize napping spot on your lap won't be compromised. In which case, I suppose we could find an accord. And, of course, your mother would still think you a prince, no matter how many tentacles you had. And with a nautiloid, you may even manage to visit her more often.

again, gale's mother truly adores him. tara is utterly convinced she'd love him even if he'd turn into a mind flayer. at the same time, the dialogue again hammers home the fact that gale's been keeping his distance from his mother after he has acquired the orb.

the following lines are a compilation of some of tara's lines from act iii, all once again stating that she is a messenger between gale and morena, keeping morena informed about gale's well-being, while also looking after morena in gale's absence from waterdeep:

Tara the Tressym: You're almost at the end of this, Gale. You're nearly there. And not a moment too soon. Myself, I must away to Waterdeep. Your mother will be worried silly not to have heard from either of us - and now I can bring her the good news. When this is all over I'll be waiting for you, with a crackling fire and good book at the ready. Good luck, darling. - Tara the Tressym: I'm well past due to return to Waterdeep. I'm going to tell your mother that you'll be home soon. Don't make a liar of me, darling. - Tara the Tressym: I'll have to make up some good news for your dear mother, then. I'm going home, Gale. To look after Mrs Dekarios, and to remind you that there are people waiting for you in Waterdeep.

going back to companion gale, the next mention of gale's mother after saving mirkon, is from gale in an ambient with karlach:

Gale: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep? Karlach: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say... a long way away.devnote Gale: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. No matter - what she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway.

it echoes the lines of dialogue that origin gale has, believing he endangers his mother with his condition and thus keeping his distance.

gale mentions his mother in an act iii dialogue after meeting tara on the rooftop of the open hand temple:

Gale: My tower in Waterdeep boasts an excellent kitchen and a wine cellar to rival Ondal himself. Not to mention a larder stocked with my homemade hundur sauce. Player: Hundur sauce? Gale: A Waterdhavian delicacy, spiced to leave exactly the right amount of heat lingering on the tongue, and served with that most sharp-toothed of aquarian residents, the quipper fish. I make it to my mother's recipe. It packs quite a wallop. As does she.

we know that gale's the designated camp cook from a conversation with wyll, and i think the conversation makes it fair to assume that gale's mother taught him how to cook.

still, maybe it's because i'm not a native english speaker and i might be missing some cultural context here, but the line "it packs quite a wallop. as does she." stuck out to me:

wallop. to hit something / someone hard.

this could mean that gale's seen her hit someone and packing quite a punch behind it. with what's been described of morena so far, i doubt it's because gale's ever been on the receiving end of that.

or perhaps it's less literal and more in relation to her seemingly larger than life personality that gale also hints at later, describing his mother as "intimitable" and "sometimes unavoidable". this description is from the following conversation that is currently sadly still bugged:

Player: So your last name is Dekarios? Gale: It is. Courtesy of my mother, the inimitable, dare I say it sometimes unavoidable, Morena Dekarios. It's been so long since I've used it. 'Gale Dekarios' cut a poor figure next to the wizard prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep'. Player: Gale Dekarios... I think I like him more. Gale: You like to many things about me I'd have sooner discarded... Your generosity is quite wonderful. Gale Dekarios likes you too. Very, very much. Though let's keep his exitence between ourselves for now. - Player: Doesn't your matter mind? Gale: Oh, she's happy if I'm happy. Morena couldn't care one jot what I call myself. Tara's the real stickler for using it. Has done since I summoned her. I'd prefer you not follow her exmaple, if that's all the same to you. 'Gale' is more than sufficient. - Player: You're right. Just 'Gale is better. Gale: I agree. And on the plus side, if I get myself into any truly cataclystic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

i love this banter so much and it makes me very sad that larian still hasn't fixed the issue of it not triggering. there's so much lore to explore here:

from gale dropping 'dekarios' in favour of 'of waterdeep', at first, to appear perhaps more grandiose, more suited to the ambitions he held when he was younger, to morena, apparently, not minding it, yet tara clinging to 'dekarios' (perhaps to keep gale's feet on solid ground as much as she could), to finally finding out that the reason that the gale we meet now is not using 'dekarios' still is because he doesn't wish to tarnish his family name should he indeed fall victim to the orb.

the last mention gale makes of his mother is during his act iii post final battle dialogue, in which he proposes to the player:

Gale: That being said, I wondered if you might consider accompanying me back to Waterdeep as a new member of the Dekarios clan? Player: Are you asking me to marry you? Gale: I suppose I am. Tara would be delighted. Not to mention my mother. But I'd be just as happy without such ceremony, so long as we're together.

this again mirrors what tara has been saying in her dialogue with an origin gale in act i: that morena and her were hoping he would find someone to find happiness with.

i think overall, even with only the very few bits and pieces we learn of morena, it's easy to tell that she truly loves and adores and cares her son, and that that love and care is clearly echoed back from gale to morena.

still, or perhaps more likely because of that love, gale keeps his secrets and his distance to morena because of the orb and the shame he feels he brought to his family.

it's all too easy to imagine that he wishes her to be proud of him and that he feels he has disappointed her and given her little reason to be proud of him in the same vein that he feels he has done with tara:

Gale: She'd [Tara] be most impressed by our efforts saving these tieflings. Proud, even. And I've given her little to be proud of recently.

anyhow, i hope i caught all mentions and that this was helpful to someone. 🖤

[ghouldtime]

Bit of a humorous ask. What would happen if König accidentally saw his neighbor compromised? Like, they are doing something embarrassing in their home and doesn't realize their window is open and they happened to glance up at each other at the same time 😭😭

I may or may not have been dancing to ABBA in my bathrobe and my neighbor was walking past and we made solid eye contact with each other for at least 10 seconds before we started laughing. I was in my bathrobe and my nightgown I was so embarrassed. Luckily she laughed with me and danced a little too.

(Anon, in your defense, ABBA is absolute PEAK for that kind of thing. Anyone who wouldn't do the same is either a liar or has no sense of joy in their lives. I'm glad that it was short lived embarrassment and your neighbor has a great sense of humor but still 😭)

Oh man, he'd be mortified.

His social anxiety, as well managed as it is, has him in a chokehold with those things. Second hand embarrassment is one of his worst enemies. As in, he will pause a movie and will exit it if it relies on it for "humor". It's just TOO painful for him to sit and squirm through, he hates it.

He cannot and does not want to deal with it, he'd rather pretend those things don't exist if it's that level of embarrassing. Alas life has a cruel sense of humor and things like that are bound to happen. So he goes the classic route of action: immediately diverts his eyes, pretends like he was conveniently doing something else, and acts like he never saw anything in the first place. He's never going to bring it up or mention it. Even if you swear he saw it, he won't say a word and forces it from his mind.

That being said, it really depends what it is and what happened though - because if it's something endearing where they're just enjoying themselves, living their life, it's really bad! What's "embarassing" usually depends on our own perceptions anyhow.

He may watch for a few moments with a small smile on his face before he diverts his attention before he can be caught. Since we all have those moments where we do things like that and it's a part of our nature to just be silly and to live our lives, it's something to enjoy. It's a moment of calm, normalcy, and tranquility in his otherwise tumultuous life, that he can savor because that can be gone in an instant. He knows that all too well. It's just humans being humans in the absolute best way and THAT is heartwarming and nothing to be embarrassed about. He'll cherish that and the good that he sees whenever he finds it in this world.

He's all for being yourself and enjoying life as you see fit. Go splash in those puddles, go feed the birds, go talk to the little flowers you see growing. Life is too short to waste in on worrying what others think when doing so would hinder your own. His cheeks might tinge a bit crimson if you make eye contact and he's looking away instantly, but that's not from embarrassment - those are just other, more heart warming feelings that are making him flush.

Still, he doesn't like to intrude on private moments (his curtains are usually drawn and he has privacy film on most of his windows) so you're usually going to be in the clear anyhow! But either way, nothing to be embarrassed about. He's not bringing it up either way and if it's bad, it's scrubbed from his mind. If not, he's instead doing his damn best to memorize it and cherish it, among the other small moments that you share together 💚

[gotranting]

The push - Remus Lupin x female reader

I want to keep my stories on one blog. This is the same story as from my main tumblr, in case you come across it again.

The idea is...imagine Remus witnessing that your patronus has changed its form.

I'm missing older Remus stories, and I need to scroll way down to find them. Tumblr refreshes every so often and brings me to the first post. So I had enough and wrote a few things. Once again, maybe someone will like it...enjoy if you do <3. I plan on making a part two (one day...), and we'll see how that goes.

There are no warnings, except a larger age gap.

Imagine Remus seeing that your patronus has changed its shape. You were surprised as well. Whatever has been going on between you two was never given a name other than friendship. A denial of feelings is what I would call it.

For Remus it was also a feeling of not being enough for you. Of being too old for you. What could he possibly give you, he thought. Living from one paycheck to another? Never knowing where you will live next month? Having to suffer all sorts of slurs and insults once people found out he was the creature you chose as your partner? You had a life in front of you. He would not let you waste it.

And yourself? Apparently you were both presuming how the other would react without even asking for the other's opinion. There was a different pattern of thought in your mind, Of course you would not allow him to settle for you. Remus could do better than that. What could you possibly offer him? See, you believed that all your conversations were on surface level (they were not). You thought that once he would try to get to know you on a deeper level...he would find nothing there (Sirius teased him over how enamoured he looked every time you spoke). You did not see much worth in yourself at all. Oh, yes you hid that well. But, if you saw no worth in yourself, how could you possibly believe anyone else would find any. Remus would have spent hours proving you wrong if he knew. Just as you would spend hours proving him wrong.

There was another problem. To be with him would require of you to open up. And that thought alone frightened you. Yes, you two might have spent hours talking about everything. Or nothing sometimes. So, it is strange that it suddenly became something to fear. But perhaps for many it is not strange at all. Anyhow. If you suffered with such thoughts, why would you put Remus through all of that as well? He deserved someone better for himself.

Strange how similar you both were in that regard.

Well, apparently denial of feelings is how it would be between the two. Without a push, nothing would happen except longing gazes, and too long embraces when one came back safe from a mission. Or throwing oneself in front of the other to defend them against a dozen of dementors. It was the strongest patronus you ever casted. A bear that tore down every dementor which tried to get to Remus. Some got to you. Not many. But at least, Remus was safe.

As for that push - Well it just so happened, there was no need for long waiting. It's strange how fate works yes? I wish Umbridge had nothing to do to contribute to this, but sadly she did in a way. After coming to Hogwarts, she did a marvelous job at teaching the students absolutely nothing. With Voldemort returning, the students were vulnerable if there was no one to teach them how to properly defend themselves. Harry, Ron and Hermione had a brilliant idea. Dumbledore's army. Not everyone believed the Ministry's lies. Soon there was quite a few students joining the initiative.

All in all they planned it quite well. But it was always good to get a second opinion. So, when Harry came to the Grimmauld place, it only felt right to ask the three residents of the house for assistance. Sirius was there constantly. He didn't need any convincing. Spending time with Harry, breaking some school rules, aiding in fighting Voldemort...and getting to call Umbridge a cunt as much as he liked. ...He would have done so regardless. But still.

Remus was there at the insistence of Sirius. The last few months have been difficult after his previous colleagues found out what he was. He defended himself when a hex came his way before he left that shop. See, even with witnessing that, he still thought of himself as a monster. After Sirius found out, he would have it no other way than Remus staying with him. And if the previous coworker somehow got too ill from eating one of Fred and George's experiments well...the twins left their things around constantly. It was an honest accident.

The girl? Well, she had a home of her own. Small place. Hidden. Cozy and simple. Sirius insisted here as well. She didn't know why exactly. And she couldn't be at Grimmauld all the time. But she did stop by as often as she could. After finding out about the hexing, it was more than other members of the Order. Good thing that Sirius handled it (it was an accident I swear), or she would have used something far more darker.

With Harry's arrival it was the four of them in the house. Planning which spells would be the most useful ones to teach. Considering they had cleaned the attic, it was as good a place as any to let Harry practice those spells with their supervision. That way he could get a better feeling on what should he pay attention to.

Spell by spell. Expelliarmus. Reducto. Stupefy. Expecto patronum. The push.

„I think that is a break for me. Anyone wants some tea?“ Sirius asked after an hour of dueling. James would be so proud of Harry. Remus was leaning back on one of the tables observing it all. Your dog was begging for food so you kept to the sidelines as well.

„I'm going back in three days. There is no time for breaks. I cannot let them down.“ Harry on the other hand was not backing down. He would not let anyone be unprepared. He would not let anyone lose a friend in front of their eyes. He needed to practice more.

„Harry, you will not be able to teach them anything if you fall unconscious from exhaustion.“

„Then I need to practice more, to endure as much as I can. The death eaters won't stop because I am tired. Voldemort will kill someone else while I am catching my breath!“

The others could only look at each other. One way or another, he would continue. With or without them. So it was decided, that while Sirius went to get tea, they'd practice something other than dueling. It was your time to step to the centre of the room. You agreed that you would cast the patronus. You would make random mistakes, which Harry would have to notice and correct properly. Remus would give him advice in case he missed something.

Considering she did well when casting a full bodied patronus, she didn't think there would be anything unexpected. First try, she moved her hand in a slightly different direction, which Harry noticed quickly. Second time, she didn't cast a powerful enough memory. Harry gave her some ideas. He would do well, they knew it. Third time, she decided to allow for some wisps to flow from the wand. Still not strong enough. Even here, Harry would give words of encouragement. She thought she saw Remus softly smiling in the corner of her eyes. She thought of that. The last time she saw him like that. It was after the Full Moon. Despite Wolfsbane, she found him pale in bed, wrapped up in blankets. With tea on his bedside table, she put a vinyl on. He mentioned he was fond of Cohen. He was a favourite of his mum's. A muggle store had that vinyl. She didn't have to think twice.

He mentioned that vinyl around six months ago.

If he had more strength in him, he'd get up and carry her with him to his bed in that moment. Nothing sexual. Just to hug her closer. To kiss her on the forehead. To nudge his nose to hers, until she gazed at him with that look. A look which left him thinking that it did not matter at all to her that he was a werewolf. Or 17 years older than her. Poor. Broken. At that moment he would know there was more to him. He'd nudge her nose once again until she blushed. Then he would press his lips to hers. And she would brush the hair away from his forehead. No, they would not let each other go. If only he had more strength. And courage.

She thought of him at that moment. At how she still managed to make him laugh to tears, even after that Full Moon. At how they both hummed to the songs. At what could be. The wisps got stronger this time. She saw the outlines of paws, only they were smaller this time. Strange. The whole bear seemed to be a bit smaller than it usually was. Remus's smile faltered, as he noticed what creature was forming in the room. The realisation was slowly dawning on her as well. It was not the bear she has come to expect, it was a wolf. She could lie to herself only so many times, but here was the proof. Right in front of him. A wolf making a circle around Harry. Coming to greet her dog. Harry was busy looking at the beautiful creature to notice two figures standing frozen in the room.

And sure, he hoped that it was him this wolf represented. She would not stop lying to herself, but she still hoped he understood now. What did each of them see though? He saw her carefree look fading. He saw her standing rigid in the centre. Was she ashamed? Angry? What if the wolf was not connected to him at all? He didn't want to meddle in her love life. If only to hide the jealousy of which he had no right to feel. What if there was someone with whom she felt as comfortable as she had with him the night that vinyl played. He had no right to wish it was him alone who would get to see her like that.

She saw him straightening up. She saw his smile fade. The clenched jaw. He was angry. A girl, barely out of Hogwarts fell in love with him. Just what he needed.

Sirius came up with tea. She was quick to apologize, saying all the practice made her a bit dizzy. Remus still stood next to the table. After a moment he excused himself as well. One could sense something went wrong.

„I suppose no one is in the mood for tea anymore. What happened here?“

„I'm not sure. The patronus appeared and right after they both left.“

A push needed to happen. However, that push can move events in any direction. Sirius had no idea what had transpired in that room. But he would do his best to find out.

[wistfulforstars]

For What It's Worth - Part 2 Rex x Reader

Summary: Rex gets back on Coruscant, only to find that everything is not as he left it. Warnings: reader is afab, physical injury, discussions of violence, Rex is stressed tf out, mature sexual content in later chapters, minors: get out

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Rex was impossibly nervous.

After a long foray through hyperspace, and an even longer debrief with General Skywalker, and several hours of filling out reports, he’d barely had enough time to get to the flower shop before it closed. Zeira knew him, however, had come to expect his sporadic visits over the last several months, and she simply ushered him inside, flipping the closed sign outward behind him.

He liked Zeira. She didn’t waste time, didn’t ask questions, and didn’t take requests. He stood there while she told him exactly what this bouquet needed and had it arranged and wrapped before he had time to protest. That was okay. What did he know about flowers anyhow?

Now he stood outside an upper-level med center, armor painstakingly buffed and repainted, getting strange looks from passersby. He felt as jittery as he had before your first date. 

This thing between you… it wasn’t exactly new. You’d danced around each other through several of his leaves before he found enough courage - and corellian whiskey - to ask you to dinner. Then you’d gone out every time he was back on Coruscant since. But it was all still fledgling enough to be fragile, and Rex absolutely, positively, did not want to screw it up. He knew despite his limited dating history how special you were, and tonight he was going to give you all the affection and attention you deserved. You put up with a lot just by dating a clone, suffering through the impossible missions, weeks of comm silence, and careful secrecy. But you’d grinned through it for six months - six months! - and told him, every single time, that he was worth it…

He was going to tell you he loved you.

Rex was single-minded, straightforward, and far too stubborn for his own good, but he wasn’t stupid. You were more than he deserved, more than he ever dared dream of, and one day, he was going to give you everything. The war couldn’t last forever, Senator Amidala was already working with others to secure clone citizenship, and if he could just keep his stupid ass from getting killed…well, that’s getting ahead of himself. First he had to tell you he loved you.

If you ever got off work…

Had he gotten the time wrong? The sun was starting to go down. 

Rex wasn’t always thrilled with your job. You were a traveling medic, on-call for whenever another worker called in sick or med centers were short staffed. Of that, he was very proud. You healed people for a living, which was something of a mystical, untouchable concept to him. But you’d worked at nearly every major hospital, clinic, and volunteer center in the city. Some of your workplaces, like this one, were fairly nice. But some, like the one you told him you were serving last week, were in the deepest, seediest part of the city. He nearly went mad every time he saw a place like that on the schedule you sent him. You said that’s where people needed you the most. He didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, they could get someone else to risk their neck for a few antiviral shots and bacta baths. Anyone but his girl. 

It’s why, about three months into your relationship, he’d broken several huge rules and given you the direct emergency line to Fox. Fox knew about you, knew how much his brother worried, and had put up almost no fight when Rex asked him to step in personally if he ever got a distress signal from your comm. In return, Rex offered to keep an eye on one of Admiral Ularen’s cute little secretaries whenever he could. Fox had frozen, clenched his fists, turned sharply about, and walked away without saying a word. 

And Rex hadn’t heard from his brother since. He took great comfort in the thought that you had someone ready to run to help when he couldn’t be there. 

But…the sky was going pink, the street lights were coming on, and you were almost an hour late ending your shift. He huffed an agitated breath beneath his bucket, fiddling with the wrapping on his bouquet. Maybe you were just working overtime? That he could sympathize with. 

He sent you another comm, though the line had been unresponsive the entire day. Unbidden, a scary, insecure thought bubbled up in his mind. Did you…not want to see him?

“Rex!” A melodious voice floated to him on the still Coruscant air, and he turned to find a twi'lek running in his direction, waving her hand frantically. He knew her - your neighbor, your good friend.

“Alentia,” he stood at attention for one of your favorite people, though it probably looked a bit silly with the flowers. Then, to his chagrin, all of his nervousness began bubbling to the surface. “Do you… I don’t know…where…?” 

He gestured helplessly with his bouquet, helmet tilting towards the hospital that you refused to emerge from. Alentia gave him a look so full of sympathy, he thought for a second that maybe he’d rather take a blaster bolt. Then, her lip began quivering.

“I’m sorry, but...,” she began, eyes dropping to the sidewalk. “She’s not here, Rex.”

He gripped his flowers by the stems so fiercely he was afraid they might break, “Does she… I mean… is it over?”

Alentia’s eyes flashed up, wide with surprise, “No! Oh stars, no, I’m sorry Rex. I didn’t mean to make you think that. She’s…at home.”

Rex had plenty of experience with someone burying the lead, but he persisted. “And…can I come see her?”

Tia, as you affectionately called her, smiled sadly, “I think she would really, really like that. She…she got discharged from the hospital this morning.”

“What?” A snap sounded at his fist, and he took an involuntary step forward.

“I’m sorry Rex!” Tia sniffled. “I didn’t know you were coming back and I didn’t think to check her comms till an hour ago! She’s been on pain meds and sleeping most of the day and-”

“Alentia!” He grabbed her shoulder, panic filtering into his voice behind the wall of his rapidly declining self-control. “Tell me what happened.”

“She…she got attacked a few nights ago, Rex! On her way home from-”

“That hell-hole of a clinic she was working at last week.” He snarled. His heart was pumping double-time, though it did nothing to warm the chilled blood in his veins.

“Y-yes!” Alentia finally started sobbing, but Rex didn’t stop to wait. He grabbed her arm and steered her to his borrowed speeder, helping her on board before climbing on himself and igniting the engine.

He ignored the speed limits, ignored the rude gestures thrown his way in the middle of traffic, and put all his energy into getting to his girl as quickly as possible. You were hurt. For some unknown reason, violent strangers had grabbed you outside of work and tried to take you from him. 

If he ever got his hands on them…

You were alive, that much he knew. Alive and well enough to be out of the hospital, but Rex wouldn’t believe you were okay until he saw for himself. Until he held you in his arms.

Had you not been able to comm Fox? Had passersby helped you instead? It didn’t make sense either way. If a report had been filed, if you had been hurt, Fox would have commed him immediately.

Alentia shrieked as he slammed on the decelerator and parked outside your building. He didn’t even allow the poor girl to catch her breath before he was hurrying her towards the entrance. He’d apologize for his behavior later.

The race through the doors and up the flights of stairs was a blur. He typed in the passcode to your apartment - his CT number of all things - and burst into the entryway.

After a frantic glance around at the kitchen and living room, he found you lying still and peaceful in the middle of your bed.

He couldn’t breathe.

Your arm was in a brace, going up past your elbow. Bruises peaked up beyond it, and also blossomed along your opposite bicep in the tell-tale pattern of fingerprints. Similar, fainter bruising marred your neck, and your face… more dark, purple bruises along your left jaw, a split lip, and two black eyes remained closed as you slept on. A patch had been applied to your forehead.

Rex reached out a trembling hand to your face, before dropping it back to his side. “She should have had bacta,” he said numbly. “Why does the bruising look this…this…”

“There’s a bacta shortage on Coruscant,” Alentia mumbled. “Because of the-”

“Because of the war,” he croaked. It was as if someone had pricked a tiny hole in his heart, as if it was slowly wilting inside him.

A hand fell on his armor-clad shoulder, grounding him, “Her head, her arm, and three fractured ribs are the worst of it. A few weeks, and she’ll be feeling like her regular self.”

He nodded, his shaking fists unclenching for just a moment to remove his helmet. Tia busied herself by fluffing your pillows. You didn’t stir.

The numbness was wearing off, the sickening shock, and Rex, who did not consider himself a particularly violent man despite his soldier status, found it replaced with a deep pit of rage.

“Who,” he grit out between bared teeth, eyes fixed on your battered face, committing it to memory. “Who did this to her?”

Alentia started at the venom in his voice, and turned back around warily, “Th-they were arrested by the CG. I don’t know their names, but the guards who contacted me said they were fairly young. Street thugs, from the sound of it.”

Rex had his comm open before she finished speaking. He needed to have a word with his brother.

[zvdvdlvr]

Hi I just saw ur post about the sh comfort, could you write a sh comfort fic, a outsiders one please, could you do Johnny hcs pleases and can you make the reader gn please

johnny seeing your SH scars ( thighs, wrists )

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑚, 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑐

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑐!𝑗𝑜ℎ𝑛𝑛𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒: 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦/𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚

{🧡}

looking back, johnny felt bad that he didn't push sooner

he only found out that one day at the Curtis's when you were in the bathroom and were pulling on a tank top to put a long sleeve shirt over that

johnny didnt knock, no one knocked.

when you jumped to face the intruder, johnny looked down to give you your modesty, put his eyes locked on the jagged lines criss crossing on your thighs

he looked up slowly, your paused movements giving him view to the faint scars on your wrist

swallowing, johnny turned on his heel and left, making sure to close the door when he left

he didn't avoid you; you were both dating and practically lived at the same house

however, he avoided the confrontation for fear of irritating you

you pulled him away from the group while darry and soda tossed the football around, two-bit occasionally jumping in to intercept the ball cleanly and take off in a sprint

"hey" you "hi :p" johnny

you asked him if he told anyone, and he gave you a questioning look

"my scars, johnnyboy. did you... tell anyone?"

he shrugs. "did you want me to?"

you almost cried tbh

you smile at him shyly. "do you want me to explain it? why aren't you asking me questions?" through your happines, there was confusion

the few people that had seen normally asked a lot of questions

but

you almost... wanted him to know

was it because you were dating? who knows!

"later? we can go pick up sodas and go hang out at the park?" johnny

you agreed, happy that he wasn't interrogating you, but not brushing you off

later, you both walked down to the park, drinks in hand

you explained (albeit shakily) why you made yourself bleed., and johnny listened

at some point, he shifted his coke to his other hand so he could link pinkies with you bc you sounded sad </////3333333

screaming and crying i need a johnny

after that night, johnny glances at you with A Look ™️, questioning if you had Done Anything

you shook your head; he was helping you forget that habit and

if you were still self harming (cutting), johnny would always clean your cuts and bandage them up without saying anything

your own battles are always the worst

and he knows that

but a whispered "i'm here" from him always makes you tear up

your beyond disappointed at yourself for possibly disappointing johnny and feeling upset that he would waste his time with you

HOWEVER

he absolutely DOES NOT think that :')

he's secretly in love with you!

anyhow,

if/when you finally stop turning to that to take out your emotions, (when ur snuggling or in private) johnny rubs his thumbs over your scars

one time, he whispered "you're so strong"

you were asleep (or were you?😏) so you didnt answer

if you decided to wear a short sleeve or let your scars show, johnny would never leave your side: he gets a lot of looks because of the marred skin on his face

darry sat you down, though, as the mother that he is

it was a simple "you don't need to do that anymore, we're always here for you, you're part of the gang" speech

it was touching, but funny

dally had to be held back whenever someone pointed or laughed or made a comment about your wrists

most likely by two, darry, and soda

mans strong when infuriated

mans hot af

WHOA WHO SAID THAT

if you do the shmexy time when ur older,

ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART.

kisses your scars, takes time to trace them with a light fingertip

he's so proud of how far you've come <3

sobbing i love him

if you were comfortable with it obviously,

if you had a pattern like # that, two would probably play tic tac toe with you i dont make the rules i dont wanna offend anyone

you were startled at first at how he looked up at you, holding the marker out to you

but now it your thing

johnny laughs whenever you beat two (which is always 50/50)

will edit later,

sorry if this is bad <3

[storiesofaot]

hello! Would you be interested in writing Hange taking care of Levi? (Maybe usually he takes care of her but now he's wounded or something else). And he's soft for her but he'd never admit it? (Write it anyhow you want of course, I'm just throwing ideas)

Thank you so much for your request @sunflowersunite - I loved the idea of Hange taking care of Levi, and I really hope you're happy with it 😊 I had to make him suffer a little bit hehe, but there's also some softness in it!

(And also, sorry that it took me a little while to get this done, but once again, it turned out a bit longer than I wanted it to be xD)

Rating: T; Word Count: 2496

Title: I don't deserve your kindness.

It had all been her fault; she knew it, and she knew he knew it too. They had been on a mission when a few Abnormals appeared out of nowhere, moving unpredictably fast. Hange, Levi and their squads had given their all to fight the titans, and everything had been under control - until the last remaining Titan decided to change direction out of the blue and run in the exact opposite way. Hange had been just trying to wipe away Titan blood that had splattered onto her goggles and which had blocked her view entirely, when she suddenly heard Levi shout “Watch out!”

The next thing she remembered was being roughly shoved aside and landing face down in the bushes. A loud thud was heard, followed by a pained groan. Through her splattered glasses, she could still see Petra and Oluo defeating the Titan, and as it fell, it revealed Levi who was lying on the ground right in front of a rock, with a pained expression on his face.

“What happened?” she asked Moblit, when he landed next to her and helped her up. 

“The captain was thrown against the rocks by the Titan,” the tall man explained and quickly followed Hange who didn’t waste any time and was already rushing toward the scene.

“It happened because he pushed me out of the way, right?” she asked breathlessly, worry evident in her voice. Moblit didn’t reply, but his expression gave her the answer.

Luckily, Levi hadn’t broken any bones, but he was clearly in a lot of pain. He had to be carried back since he couldn’t walk, much to his annoyance. But he didn’t protest as much as he usually would, which indicated the extent of his suffering. Back at headquarters, they told him he had torn several muscles around his lower back due to the collision and that the ligaments supporting his vertebrae were likely strained, making it impossible for him to walk or even stand.

But of course, he insisted on being discharged from the infirmary immediately, even though the doctors repeatedly told him that he needed a lot of rest and should move as little as possible. Hange, who hadn’t left his side for a moment, knew how much he hated that place. Therefore, she offered to take care of him and ensure that he left his bed only when absolutely necessary - and finally, the doctors agreed.

“Thanks, but you don't actually have to stay all the time. I can take care of myself,” Levi grumbled in a strained voice as the two of them made their way through the hallway at a snail's pace, Hange supporting as much of Levi’s weight as possible while he had his arm around her shoulders.

“Oh, I am definitely going to stay,” Hange protested and opened the door to his room. “I promised the doctors, and I don’t believe you’ll stay in bed all day unless someone forces you. Besides, it’s kind of my fault you’re injured in the first place … so it’s the least I can do.”

Levi protested several times, but Hange would hear none of it, so eventually, he gave in. “But as soon as you get on my nerves, I’ll kick you out,” he threatened with a scowl.

“You just tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you,” Hange said, a little out of breath when they had finally entered his room and he was settled on his bed. She knew he hated relying so much on others, but she was determined to do her best and make this as easy for him as possible. 

The way he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped and a little paler as usual, made her heart tighten, and another wave of guilt washed over her. “I’ll be the best nurse you’ve ever had,” she added in a lighter tone, and when he let out a huff of air, she knew she had managed to at least amuse him.

She was even more relieved when he spoke again: “Could you maybe hand me my pyjamas? I really need to get out of these filthy clothes.” Hange nodded and moved toward the closet, eager to follow his instructions and glad to finally have something to do.

When she handed him the pyjamas, he gave her a grateful nod. “Um … do you need any help getting out of your clothes?” she asked cautiously.

Levi shot her an annoyed look. “I can change my clothes on my own, thank you very much. I might be injured, but I’m not half dead."

Despite his objections, Hange remained unconvinced and refused to leave him alone in the room. Understanding that he would never change in front of her, she walked to a corner of the room and turned her back to him. “See, I’ll even take off my glasses and close my eyes. It’s like I’m not even here, but I can still help you if you need it.” Levi protested, but when he realised she wasn’t going to leave, he finally agreed with a grumble.

Slowly, he reached for the buttons of his shirt and started unbuttoning them, surprised to feel so much pain from such a minimal movement. But he gritted his teeth and continued, trying to take deep breaths and think of something else.

After what to him felt like an hour, he was finally done. With a relieved sigh, he let the shirt fall open, exposing the bandages the doctors had applied to stabilise his back as much as possible. Now, he had to figure out how to get the shirt off without worsening the pain in his lower back. He did his best to make his movements as small and slow as possible, but as soon as he twisted his arms, a stabbing pain shot through him, causing him to let out a groan. “Fuck!” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment in frustration.

“Levi…,” Hange said softly, and from the corner of his eye, he saw her shift slightly. There was no way she hadn’t heard him struggling, but under no circumstances did he want her to help him undress. He knew she meant well, but that would definitely be crossing a line.

“No!” he quickly replied, almost sounding desperate. “Please … don’t turn around.” 

“Okay, I won’t,” she replied, though he could clearly hear that she wasn’t exactly pleased about it.

Levi tried moving his arms differently, but once again, the pain nearly took his breath away. He reconsidered the situation but saw no other solution - he had to ask for her help, or he might end up in even more pain. ‘I… think I do need your help,” he admitted.

To his relief, she refrained from making any comments as she turned around and walked over to him. “What can I do?” He quickly explained his problem and she nodded gently, keeping her eyes on his and, thankfully, avoiding any glance at his state of undress. “Of course, I’ll help you get out of your clothes. Just let me know if I’m going too fast.” Her eyes widened as she realised how that might sound, and she quickly added, “Um … you know what I mean.”

Normally, Levi would have rolled his eyes or made a comment, but given the awkward situation, he merely gave her a halfhearted nod. Hange began to carefully lift the shirt off his shoulders, moving as slowly as possible and pausing whenever he winced or shifted uncomfortably. She first guided his left arm out of the sleeve, then the right, until finally, the shirt was removed.

Levi let out the breath he hadn't even realised he’d been holding. To his relief, and thanks to Hange's help, putting on his sleep shirt turned out to be less painful than he had expected. But now he was left with the more challenging and awkward task of getting out of his trousers, for which he was again reliant on Hange.

Hange could probably sense his embarrassment and did her best to lighten the mood. “Come on, I’ll help you up, and then we’ll have it done in no time.” 

Standing up was painful, but not as painful as the ordeal he had to endure when Hange knelt in front of him and started unbuckling his belt. He tried to look anywhere but at her as she slowly started to guide the fabric over his hips and his thighs, feeling the blood rush to his head. Once his pants were around his ankles, she helped him step out of the first trouser leg and immediately into his pyjamas, then repeated the process for the other leg. A few moments later, he was fully dressed again, feeling relieved but still embarrassed, with a noticeable flush on his face.

Hange didn’t seem too bothered by the situation. With a grin on her face, she helped him into bed, arranging the cushions so he was sitting comfortably. Finally, she spread the blanket over him. “And now, don’t move until I’m back. You must be starving - I definitely am -, so I’ll get us something to eat.”

“How the hell am I supposed to move?” Levi grumbled, but she ignored his comment and quickly left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He realised that despite his unkindness over the past few hours, she had stayed by his side, always maintaining her cheerful demeanour and doing her best to make everything as easy and painless for him as possible. And now that he thought about it, he recognised that he had never truly thanked her for any of it.

No, he was definitely not used to other people taking care of him, and somehow it made him uneasy, for he had no idea how to respond to such kindness. He wasn’t accustomed to this feeling - most of his life, he had been on his own and had to learn to handle things alone. So this was certainly a new experience for him.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings, and a few seconds later, Hange entered his room. “You’re lucky, the stew is still hot. Here, hold this for a moment; I had an idea.” She handed him the warm plate, unfolded a small stool she had been holding, and placed it beside Levi on the bed. “You can use this as a small table, so you don’t have to move too much.” She reached into her jacket pockets and pulled out two glasses, placing one on his makeshift table.

Then, she went outside again and came back with her own plate and a bottle of water. But before she attended to her own meal, she first poured water for him and then for herself, and again, Levi felt a strange warmth inside his chest due to all the efforts Hange was making. 

This time, he couldn’t fight the urge anymore and spoke up. “Thank you, Hange. For everything. I know I haven’t been exactly … easy on you. But I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

The smile that appeared on Hange’s lips made his heart flutter, much to his surprise, and it felt like a small sunbeam had just illuminated the room. “I’m just doing my best to make it up to you. You wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for my inattention …and I might not even be here if it wasn’t for you.”

For a moment, the two of them just looked at each other, and the realisation that one day Hange might not be there anymore hit Levi hard. Very hard. He took a deep breath; there were so many things he wanted to say, so many feelings swirling inside him, but all he could manage was to shake his head. “Eat,” he said instead, trying to put as much softness into the single word as he could.

Hange smiled at him and did as he asked, letting out a satisfied sigh when the stew touched her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything as good as this!” she mumbled, shovelling another spoonful into her mouth.

Levi barely managed to stifle a chuckle and instead turned the corners of his mouth downward. “That’s only because you’re half-starved,” he murmured, but he couldn’t quite hide the pleased sigh that escaped his lips as the hot stew touched his mouth, warming him from within. 

He wasn’t quite know how she ended up sitting next to him in his bed. After they finished dinner and chatted for a while, she had gone to her room to fetch some books and, despite his protests, began reading aloud to him. The book also contained many illustrations, and since she insisted they were essential to the story, she had squeezed into his bed beside him, making sure he could see them without having to move.

But soon, he noticed her voice growing softer and more strained, and he realised she was getting tired. “Take a break,” he said, and after a short objection, she gave in. 

“But only for a few minutes,” she mumbled, leaning her head back against the headboard and closing her eyes. “The story’s just getting interesting.” 

However, her body seemed to have other ideas, and a few minutes later, he felt her head slump gently against his shoulder. Levi waited for a little while, paying attention to her regular breathing and every tiny movement. But she appeared to be deeply asleep, so he carefully took the book from her hands. Then, he reached for her glasses and held his breath momentarily as she twitched slightly at the touch. But her eyes remained closed, so he carefully removed the glasses from her nose.

He seized the opportunity to study her face more closely. He observed her long eyelashes, gently curled, and her soft, peaceful expression, with a few stray strands of brown hair brushing her cheek. As she slept, she involuntarily nuzzled closer to his shoulder, and though the movement caused him some discomfort in his back, Levi didn’t pull away.

He had to fight the urge to brush the stray strands of hair behind her ear but instead, he carefully pulled the sheets tighter around her, his heart racing. “I don’t deserve your kindness,” he whispered, “So why are you even here?”

There were many thoughts running through his head and countless emotions he couldn’t even put into words. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so simultaneously delighted and uneasy, and he feared his heart might burst from the intensity of his feelings. But he knew he wouldn’t find answers in his tumultuous thoughts, so he gently reopened the book and returned to the passages she had already read to him. As he looked at the illustrations and tried to recall the soothing sound of her voice, he found a sense of comfort amidst the confusion.

[pepperf]

A good tragedy should be about a) inevitability, and b) what you are ultimately fighting is yourself. The reason TUA s4 failed so badly was that it felt extremely evitable, given their history, and what they were fighting was a combination of their sort-of stepmom and sort-of brother the Giant Blob. Like. That was not the inexorable hand of fate. That was weird city-eating goop set in motion by an arch-villain. Any half-decent superhero show would figure a way out of that.

And, sure, they might have made a tragic ending work for these characters, but they needed to show the inexorable steps that led them there from the start. Instead, all their past history shows us that they will make a terrible mess, they will try to fix it haphazardly, with everyone pulling in different directions, and end up creating a different mess instead, and none of them will ever cooperate with Five's plans.

Heck, they weren't even responsible for this one, it was their dad and stepmom's actions that brought it on. They were merely a side-effect. It's not their hubris - so it's not satisfying (in a tragic way) to see them be destroyed for it.

I get the aim of making a superhero show that has the superheroes be the problem in the end (tbh, this has been done a million times already, I don't know why SB thinks it's so clever), or having them sacrifice themselves heroically and no one knows - but like, it needs to feel earned, it needs to feel like the absolute last resort, that they've tried everything else and this is it, the only option. But they didn't try much else, here - even with all their enhanced powers, which had the potential to throw in some wildcards. No - they tried talking to and then hitting the Bennifer Blob, and then...blergh, we give up, let's all die and hope that fixes things. It was an unspectacular end, and it felt like such a waste of all that potential - of the show, the characters...

I know SB has said he planned this from the start, but it honestly didn't feel like it. Maybe he planned the general idea of them failing but never worked out the exact details, and when it came down to it, he didn't have a good apocalypse in mind? That certainly feels like his MO - lots of build-up, and then no follow-through. idk, whatever it was, it was just kind of a lame end to a show that I'd loved so much -and that was what really gets my goat. I wanted to feel like, whatever the ending, they'd thrown their hearts into it, and instead I was left feeling like the showrunners had already kind of moved on with their lives, it's only a TV show, just hit some popular beats, stick an ending on it, shove some CGI in, and hope the next thing we're pitching gets picked up. And it did feel very much like a showrunner issue, bc the actors did their absolute best to sell it. But there's only so much you can do with being eaten by a CGI blob.

We had three good seasons, and I am going to move on, once I've got some fic off my chest - but I'm just kinda disappointed that we didn't get one final season of great material, some stuff that makes me keep wanting to think about how it works, what happens next, how to explain X or Y - all that fun, fandom stuff.

Anyhow, much like Steve Blackman, I don't know how to end this. Peace out, y'all.

[fuck-customers]

I have two separate stories of customers being the absolute stupidest people on the planet, but I'll keep them to their own posts

The first incident happened early evening of June 8th of this year.

After having dealt with a particularly stupid young couple (who tried to pay for a $36.29 transaction with a 20, 2 5's and 6 1's, despite having a stack of literally every bill imaginable. After I called him out on being 29¢ short [it was a very long day of people being stupidly greedy with lottery tickets], he accidentally drops a $20 on the counter. As Ms. Thing on his side starts bitching about "it's only 29¢ not $20" I snatch the 20 away from them basically throw their original 5's and 1's at them, and say, "No. You're gonna give me $40 now because you're wasting MY TIME"), I decided to go to the bathroom to just breathe and calm down.

Long story short, I got myself stuck in the bathroom (you may laugh, it was hilarious anyways)

Manager says to put an Out of Order sign on the door, which we do. We even BARRICADED the door with the trash can so no one would go in.

Lo and behold, about an hour later, my coworker is approached by a man, saying his wife had just gotten stuck in the bathroom.

My coworker says, "Oh, well, the door has an out of order sign on it. The men's room looks exactly the same."

And then the woman comes to the counter, to me, and mentions that she got stuck in the bathroom, had to call her "old man" to come break her out.

I laugh and say, "Yea, well, there's a sign on the door for a reason. The men's bathroom looks the same anyhow."

They leave, no issue, but we do tell the group chat with all the employees and managers of the store.

The next morning, the husband comes in, and starts talking to my manager (who, for a little added context, is also my mother. I am a nepo baby I'm sorry 💔💔) about the previous night's ordeal.

He and his wife are convinced that I and my coworker "locked her in the bathroom as a prank"

Which...

No.

There is a SIGN

On the DOOR

That says DO NOT ENTER in big, bold letters

As well as a fucken barricade that she apparently willed out of existence when she needed to pee so badly.

So, my manager then says, "Funny you say that. MY KID got trapped in that bathroom last night. And I had to drive here to help get her out. I live outside of town. Your girlfriend didn't read the warning that I PERSONALLY OVERSAW being taped to the door. Sounds like a classic case of Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes."

When we confronted the Big Bosses with these interactions, they just said "Wow those two were fucking morons, your reactions were justified" so that was nice

Posted by admin Rodney.

[noa-ciharu]

🔞 fyozai + "getting you naked was just the first part of my plan for the night

Mini fic under cut since it's nsfw

Error was made in the worst moment. As the result Dazai got a hold of the Book. Considering everything situation could not possibly get any worse - little did Fyodor know how in the wrong he was.

"Such a waste of papers", murmured Dazai dispassionately while skimming through the Book; hard to tell whether disinterested was staged for his eyes or Dazai genuinely did not care. Aside the matter, he had far more imperative tasks at hand. Dazai eased lighter out of pocket; flipped the lid and hovered above the Book - "Shall I burn it, hmm?"

For the first time in eternity Fyodor came to know raw rage. Limbs trembled, blood boiled, mind went blank for a second - for once Fyodor found himself completely lost. "You wouldn't dare", he hissed while sending death glare Dazai's way, painfully knowing that's all bark no bite - power wasn't in his hand.

Oh he would. Fyodor knew excruciating well he would - just to spite him. Engaging in physical confrontation would be a losing game; woefully he had neither a gun nor a knife on his person. As much as it pained admitting hands were tied - he was really left with no option but to bite the bullet and bow; at least until perfect opportunity shows itself.

Dazai cocked head, sported an eerie smile; no, it did not come off as rascal or frisky by any means, blood curdling instead. "Are you challenging me rat?", tone flat, posture one of unvarying dominance; intrigue in gaze spelling out everything words did not.

Oh how tempting it'd be to wise off. Of course he knew better to than to yield to the temptation - Dazai would tear the Book apart right in front of his eyes. Thence all Fyodor could do is glare, holding out for a miracle - not that Dazai would relent anyhow, heaven knows if he were in his shoes he'd do absolutely the same; but that in the end, once sadistic appetite is satiated and Dazai's guard drops he'd be able to snatch the Book.

Seemingly not even he could keep intentions under wraps when this worked up - sly snicker informed he was seen right through. Dazai crossed legs, leaned backwards into the sole chair inside the dungeon and fixated him with those spellbinding eyes - ones that left nothing to chances, nothing to hide. "Strip bare", gruff command, sadistical glimmer in eyes alone made spine tingle.

At first Fyodor didn't even process what he's been demanded to do. Once realization truly settled in he was left perplexed. What? Strip bare? Is he hearing that right? Judging by amused look on Dazai's face yes - seemingly he's after annihilation of all dignity and principles. How fitting, Fyodor had to chukle; hated him more than ever for knowing exactly where and how to strike to make him bleed.

Passivity didn't sit well with Dazai. But he needn't words to remind Fyodor disobedience ain't an option - just had to toy with a lighter and send couple knowing glances his way. Damn you. Glaring daggers Dazai's way Fyodor mentally prepared himself for humiliation that's to come; closed eyes and with a huff began with buttons at collar.

Shirt was unfastened to the bottom ghastly fast. Stalling was out of question, would just provoke Dazai further; thence Fyodor shook shirt off shoulders and went right onto boots. Maybe it's the best he's actually done with this in one go, heaven knows he could feel Dazai's unblinking stare - scorched through skin, left no place for thinking or breathing, just suffocating self-consciousness. Not for his looks, Fyodor couldn't care less if Dazai liked what he was seeing  - but the realization he's to balance between submissiveness and defiance; opt too much for one, scales would uneven and everything would go awry.

It didn't take Fyodor long to take everything off. Once bare to the bone he lifted gaze, unflinchingly met Dazai's, tipped chin and spit with venom he couldn't afford - "Satisfied?"

Corner of Dazai's lips curved up; by all account rebelliousness lit his flame. "I want you wearing nothing but sweat and shame", he purred while uninhibitedly sizing him up, like he's just an object, no longer an equal. Being subjected to such debasement did string, quite a lot in fact, but Fyodor tried his best not to show affect; too bad quivering frame and heaving chest gave him away.

"Getting you naked was just the first part of my plan for the night", Dazai taunted right away, tone still eerily wooden; but there was a ring of diversion attached. "Down on knees"

Begrudgingly Fyodor complied - knelt down on dusty floor, grunted and rolled eyes. But even that wasn't enough for Dazai's sadism, he itched for more. "Spreed your legs", commanded so guttural Fyodor's heart skipped a beat. "I want to see all of you", hummed while staring at him with hunter's fixation; like predator fixates his prey.

Oh damn him to hell and back. Fyodor bent head low, grinded teeth so hard he might as well break them. The longer he mulls this over the harder it'd be to comply; and woefully he was left with no other choice but to yield. Slight blush crept up cheeks, looking anywhere but in Dazai's dim eyes Fyodor spread legs and put himself on display - like this was about physicality to begin with; oh anything but, Dazai just wished to strip him of all dignity and wound ego for a lifetime.

"Good", depth of Dazai's tone alone got Fyodor shivering. Cold basement air, yet for a moment body felt as if on fire - anger upon realizing what power Dazai held over him only got blood to boil more. "But when can do better", added Dazai in octave lower; tone cold as ice however nothing but pure fire in eyes - " Touch yourself"

Naturally Fyodor hesitated. Damn was Dazai in for the blood tonight. No matter how much he tried to not show a reaction eyes widened; breath visibly feel short. Despite himself he gaped right up at Dazai, not iota disbelief masked on features. Fyodor didn't expect Dazai to relent one bit, so sinister smirk didn't come as a surprise - what did however were tiny gasps dying in back of Dazai's throat. Maybe less sharp eye wouldn't have noticed it but to Fyodor's hawk one it was transparent - Dazai genuinely got off on seeing him this weak; powerless on knees indeed wearing nothing but shivers, heat and shame.

Thence nefarious smile didn't ruffle; instead got Fyodor worked up just enough for anger to melt into first stings of arousal. Maybe it's indeed the best he proceeds with this before Dazai figures out he got hard by being degraded and treated as a sex object - surely he'd never let him live that one down. To Fyodor it was no novelty, au fond he relished at rougher treatment and debasement - just his most formidable foe absolutely did not need to know all his dirtiest little secrets.

"Do I need to repeat myself?", enshrouded as a chaff but Fyodor knew better, especially when Dazai's fingers skimmed over the Book. No, he did not; biting down last bit of pride Fyodor locked gaze onto the floor and guided both hands to already stirring groin.

[productofaritual]

Have you ever thought "why did Ranboo ends up in the forest into the circle of mushrooms of Bee"? Well now you had!

This is a really fun story, everything started with the bakery— well no, everything started at my birth but that's not important. So, Niki has a bakery and I work in her bakery- wait, no, you don't know who Niki. Okey, let's start with Niki. Niki is my stepsister that I got when I was adopted! Why was I adopted you ask? Well, I was an orphan that survived the plague of 87. How? Well it was easy since I basically was born that day and- wait- AHHHHHH I got carried away again!

*sigh*

Everything started at my birth (as much as I don't want to start the story of everything that happens in his life there. Can you believe it? I have to explain my birth every time I need to tell someone something that happened this morning! Unbelievable).

So, let's do this fast. I got alive- i mean- I was born in the ending of the plague of 87 by a mother and a father. They died, I didn't. Sad sad story. I got adopted in the forest between my original town and the town that Niki's family was visiting (they have relatives there, although they didn't visit any more after that. Huh, I wonder why).

I acquire a sister and father and a mother. The mother dies when I was young (Niki was like 8 years when that happens. Oh, did I already say that we are 5 years apart?). Lived in this town since then!

Uh, what I was talking about?

Oh, yeah, the bakery. Niki started to bake when our mother died because she did it a lot (I think, I was like 5 then). So she baked and baked and baked until she was really good. And then she started to gift baked goods and gift and gift and gift until everyone loved her baked goods! And then she decided to open a bakery! Dream acquired and happy story ends! (Not really Niki and our father argued a lot for the bakery. In the end they stopped talking...).

Uh, yeah. So, I work in my sister's bakery! Helping her is great (even if I can't do much) and I attend the people so she can stay in the kitchen (even if I have terrible anxiety and I think they hate me)... *sigh* but mostly I help by fixing my own mistakes. Like giving the wrong order to Miss.Bitteranwet and then running to her house to give her the good one. Or when I was mopping the floor so no one would slip with the cream that I dropped, only to slip 15 times doing that and hurt myself enough to get thrown at home to rest.

Uh

Yeah

...*looks sad at the floor that he is mopping*

The point was, I fucked up that day (also). It was a festival order of cake made of berries and, yeah, the floor eated like 6 cakes. Niki is never mad with me, or sad when one of her perfect creations is wasted on the floor. But that day it was important and she just, froze. I tried apologising and asking if we had time to make more and then mopping the crime scene and...she wasn't responding. So I just took care of it, like she always does for me. I think she had so much stress that seeing that broke her and needed a little time to come back.

Anyhow, we needed more berries, from the forest.

The fairy forest.

Great.

You know how that ends, don't you?

It ends great!

Tripping and falling into the door of the most maniac looking fairy he's ever seen.

Absolutely great.

The fact that this could genuinely just be the start of a fic is just the greatest actually. Cmon, go write it, ik you want to ;) /nsrs

(How did you manage to get better Ranboo characterization in three minutes than me in six months wtf)

It's a very cool start to the story tho I could absolutely see it

[docholligay]

NOW FOR PART 2, WHICH YOU CARE EVEN LESS ABOUT BUT YOU LITERALLY ASKED: The Overwatch gals.

Hana: I had to actually do research (ugh) for this one, because I know she'd be into whatever young people are wearing, because despite her best efforts and calculated marketing and overwhelming responsibility, she actually is a Young People. Young people in the US and Europe overwhelmingly wear vanillas and gourmands, but young people in Korea have much more affection for florals, which are considered more 'mature' in the western markets.* So. I wanted to find something floral but softer and with a bit of the sweet brightness that is identified with a lot of 'young' perfumes. Finally got to smell my frontrunners in Harrods this winter.

La Tulipe by Byredo. Byredo makes some FANTASTIC stuff but by God are they expensive (she wouldn't have to care anyhow) so it took me a long while to get a chance to smell this one. Even buying a decant, how I normally do perfume, was spendy. But it is exactly what I want, almost a top jammy note with this gorgeous subtle floral. It's young, but 'grown up' and composed. (the second frontrunner was Jo Malone's Wild Bluebell, but after smelling both, I think La Tulipe is right)

Fareeha. In much the same way, Fareeha's tastes are influenced by the middle east, though I know enough about that to not need to seek out stuff. She was actually extremely easy. I knew it the second I smelled it, as in, I was walking by and had to walk back because I knew it.

Oud Wood by Tom Ford. It's masculine and commanding. This is a leader's perfume. It's a very well balanced oud fragrance, appropriate for Cairo or London. It really strikes that balance between Western and Arabic perfumery in a way only a handful of perfumes do, and the other ones I can think of have spice or floral notes I don't think Fareeha would like. The wood and amber notes really come through, and lend this air of mystery and purpose to the whole thing. it's a great perfume honestly.

Angela I see as only wearing perfume for special occasions not even in a "not like the other girls' way, but in a 'she struggles to prioritize and take care of herself' way that i see a lot of her 'sloppiness' coming out of. I think if she did have one, she would pick something sweet and warm and very 'comforting'. There are so so many choices in this vein that it was genuinely difficult for me, but I think I like what I ended up with.

Apple Brandy on the Rocks by Killian. Funnily enough, I thought I would like this for me, but i absolutely do not. It's giving boozy apple pie, which fits so well with my concept of Angela at her greatest and highest that I'm annoyed I didn't think of it years ago. It should have been a Fareeha-type situation.

Lena. I have had an idea of what Lena smells like for YEARS, but I could never find it. It's young but masculine leaning, the smell of citrus brightness and an old leather jacket. For years I was layering perfumes to sort of get there but was never happy with it, and then one day I sampled something offhand just in case and there it was.

Sicilian Leather by Memo Paris. Honestly, everything i have smelled in their leather line has been killer even if it's not for me to wear, so I didn't think it would be a waste. (I absolutely recommend trying some of their stuff) But the second i smelled this, it was THANK GOD FINALLY. It's so hard to find something that uses leather that is also bright and cheerful and young, but this is it. Orange oil and Cedar, and laying under that, a gorgeous leather accord. It's perfect.

OKAY SORRY TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME

*I love a floral, and not even a subtle young floral. Give me an old-money, faded debutante floral. Call me Buffy and set the table for six, Alice

[cssiel]

somewhat lately i've been feeling distressed about the butch/femme dichotomy - it's relatively new to me all of this, lesbianism. i have a hard time accepting i am one in some ways, for a period of time i felt some comfort in the idea of butchness, it's appealing when you see something that you think you can do well.

but now i'm not so sure i want it, i definitely don't want to be a man, look like one, behave like one, think like one - i'm not one. but and yet lately i find myself doing so because in some way i am being socialised to do so because i possess masculine traits & so it's almost like i'm expected to fall into butchness/masculinity because of them.

before you say it, yes, i know butchness is not about "being a man", but it is about making masculinity part of your gender expression. i guess i'm just feeling dysphoric about actually doing that - go figure.

people comment on how my hair suits me better short, how i'm more confident just because i'm fronting more / containing my feelings. every now and then some frenetic panic sets in that i may be inadvertently transitioning backwards just to find acceptance in a community & i constantly find myself re-evaluating how i want to present myself or how i want my physique to take shape. the latter especially, you have to commit fully for months to push the needle in the direction you want. that's a lot of wasted effort if you decide one day it was entirely the wrong direction.

it's true i'm gender non-conforming in a lot of ways, i lift weights because it's fun & i enjoy seeing the physical manifestation of my efforts. i wear baggy clothes, though that's mostly down to low self-esteem... my role models are juiced up men from the 90's - but do i want to look like them? absolutely not. i admire their passion & authenticity that's all, maybe some part of me looks at how they blocked out the rest of the world and worked in silence in a hole in the ground with envy. anyhow, i still want to look like a woman. i don't know, i've just been finding it difficult to connect with that given present external pressures.