#and mystified the solutions

[lucky-clover-gazette]

tfw you look at the plot outline of a project you’ve been working on for years and realize that this extended fantasy metaphor for the pandemic actually reinforces conspiracy theory and antivax attitudes within the metaphor

[purplesweetpotatoes]

adding this to my reading list

at this point we should just start tagging everything under every synonym under the sun just so it really hits

Deeply important. When purity-consciousness overwhelms a movement, it often ends up doing its enemies work for it. Direct link to thread below, above images screenshotted for posterity:

[greenerteacups]

What are your thoughts on the magic system, both how JKR has created it in canon and also how you have tried to deepen or change it in Lionheart? In a lot of fanon/other series there’s more clear rules surrounding use of magic and magical strength or talent than it seems like JKR developed in canon.

Current fantasy publishing has trended hard towards hard magic systems, i.e. systems with clear rules, limits, and costs, because those systems make it really easy to establish stakes. Sanderson's books are a great example of hard magic used well, because his books are really interested in how societies built around magic would use them to solve problems.

Soft magic, in contrast, doesn't operate on clear limits. But that doesn't mean it's bad, it's just a different kind of worldbuilding. In his article, Sanderson points out that while hard magic systems thrive on getting the reader invested and scheming with the characters, it de-mystifies the "magic" of it all; it basically becomes technology. Meanwhile, soft magic systems are great at mustering awe and wonder. The risk of a hard magic system is you make your world feel mundane. The risk of a soft magic system is you make your stakes feel irrelevant. Neither of these are necessarily true, they're just risks you need to manage when you're writing. And good authors can manage them. For soft magic writers, you need to be really careful to show that your universe has problems that magic can't solve, even if you don't break down why it can't solve them. Martin and Tolkien are great examples of this. Why can't the eagles fly everyone to Mount Doom? I dunno, but I know they can't! And I trust that a world with his richness and verisimilitude, things happen for reasons, and those reasons, if explained to me, would be satisfying. When Tolkien tells me the eagles aren't a viable solution to the problem of the Ring, I just trust him. Because he's put in the work to make this world believable. Do I need him to invent some fictional rule about eagles being, like, physically unable to cross over that mountain range? What would that accomplish? The thing about magic being soft is you can just accept that sometimes It Doesn't Work, and you're fucked. So there's still a sense of tension and stakes for your characters, because they can't always depend on magic to get the job done. Another way around this problem is just to make the stakes of your series rest on something that magic can't solve, like emotional conflict, or a mystery. This is actually most of the Harry Potter books, in my opinion; they have pretty good stakes that almost always stem from human beings in conflict with each other, which isn't something that you can wave a wand and make go away.

Rowling's magic system is somewhere between hard and soft, whereas you can do X and reliably expect Y magical outcome, but also, it's pretty soft where the limit is. I don't mind this, because I'm pretty willing to handwave glitches in the magic system where it improves the story — so long as it's not a glitch that opens a plot hole, I'm fine not understanding How or Why Exactly a given piece of magic was executed. Dumbledore's escape from the aurors in fifth year, for instance. I don't know how he did that! Doesn't bother me. Because plot-wise, it doesn't make a difference. Because whether or not Dumbledore uses a mechanic I'm familiar with doesn't change the impact of the scene or my understanding of his abilities. The point is that he's super powerful and it would take way more than four aurors to nab him. Cool! Got it. No problem. But if Dumbledore was able to cast a spell that made Umbridge resign? I would be pissed. I don't want magic to fix that problem! I want the characters to develop and emotionally respond to challenges! Don't fuck with my stakes, man!

What also bothers me is when the books introduce technology that does work like straight-up hard magic, i.e., Time Turners. There is no reason a Time Turner should ever fail. It doesn't have a cost; it doesn't have a limit. This is insanely OP, and Rowling has admitted that it kind of fucked her worldbuilding. So I took it out in my fic, because I didn't want to be assed. I've peppered in a few limitations of my own on some things; I've hardcore nerfed Apparation, because I like travel sequences and I think teleportation is boring. The nature of the resurrection magic used by Voldemort seems big enough that there frankly should be a cost, so I'm thinking about that as I'm writing Book 6. Same with the horcruxes. In general, I think the nature of "dark magic" wants more explanation, so I'm trying to get into that more in the future. Plus also Lily's blood protection, and the horcrux/soul-splintering thing, and basically What All Went Down, Magically Speaking, With The Potters—? I'm interested in that. It implies the existence of much older and weirder magical mechanics than we've seen in the rest of the series. How can you do magic unintentionally? Was it unintentional? Much to figure out.

The spell system in general I don't mind, although I think Avada Kedavra is a terrible idea. you have this beautiful unbounded combat system that could be so creative and then you just. gave every wizard a gun. Sad! Also, I really like the idea in the last book of "you have to mean it," with respect to the Unforgivables, which ties in with how the Patronus requires an emotional component; it implies something about intention and willpower that seems like a potentially interesting mechanic.

[transmutationisms]

have u read bullshit jobs by david graeber? the book or the article i think they make mostly the same point

yeah i think he's overreliant on a historical argument that is fundamentally idealist and specifically he frequently attributes economic developments to the bad terrible horrible weberian conception of the 'protestant work ethic' or to a really rudimentary analysis of managerial psychology as depending on the creation of underlings. it's just mystifying what is actually very straightforwardly a basic result of capitalism, the creation of and reliance on profit-generating markets and positions regardless of underlying use-value or social worth. also i think he's wrong about some of the jobs he claims are socially useless, eg receptionists and administrative assistants and such are only as useless as the firm overall imo; the work structurally is often p load-bearing.

fundamentally though the real issue is revealed by the fact that he proposes UBI as a solution; this is only possible because ofc this entire framework is blatantly only applicable to an imperial core exploiting the labour of the rest of the world and concerned to distribute the fruits of this arrangement more equally internally without challenging the conditions that make such wealth possible in the first place. fatally liberal analysis at heart.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Do you have any thoughts on makeup and its connection to femininity and people who say makeup isn’t meant to satisfy men, it’s for enjoyment/fun etc? Not sure if I’m clear

I have so many thoughts about makeup anon. I've been really distressed to watch both the amount of beauty work expected of women and the gap between the beauty work expected of women and the beauty work expected of men grow over the last couple of decades. To make it worse there has been a really active effort to deploy rhetoric that sounds feminist to mystify what is actually going on.

Your ask is a really good place to start - because you are asking about an idea that is part of that process of mystification. The idea that motivation for why someone is participating in beauty culture is important is fundamentally individualistic. It suggests that both the problem and the solution with beauty culture is individual - and actively shuts down structural analysis.

In our culture, make-up is both an expense and a form of labour that falls disproportionately on women. In a lot of circumstances make-up isn't optional for women, and in many, many more it doesn't feel optional. That's political problem that needs to be solved - the compulsory nature of beauty work and disproportionate burden on women. Individual motivation isn't important politically and doesn't change that underlying dynamic.

Part of the problem is that it is very hard to find places to collectively fight the rising demands of beauty culture. I really like Jessica DeFino's work - and strongly recommend it - but her solutions are often focused on individuals disinvesting from beauty culture. It's really important that there are voices doing this - particularly in a world where people will with all seriousness suggest that skincare is feminism.

But I don't know what the political solution would be. I don't know how to fight the uneven and compulsory burden of beauty on women in a collective way. I maybe have some ideas for first steps, but the problem is obviously much bigger than these ideas

Fight where beauty work is actually compulsory. Usually the compulsory nature of femininity is a bit of a metaphor - there are consequences for not performing femininity - rather than explicit power structures. But there are plenty of places, particularly workplaces, where beauty work is compulsory. Seeing fights against compulsory make-up and unequal dress-codes as important political fights - and mobilising solidarity when they happen - is an important first step.

Build a feminist movement that cannot be co-opted by the beauty industry - and actively work against that co-option. A large part of that is rejecting individualism (a great start is reading the actual personal is political essay and grappling with how distorted those ideas have come). Feminism isn't about what we do as individuals (or even worse what other people do as individuals) - but about how we collectively build a better world.

Take the question of how to challenge beauty culture seriously and collectively. Acknowledge that we don't know how to change it at the moment and form groups that discuss that question.

But the most important starting point is that it doesn't matter how women personally engage in beauty culture as individuals, or why. What matters is the fact that beauty work is both compulsory and an uneven burden.

[racke7]

Sometimes, I really fucking hate Skyrim.

So, a long time ago, I created a simple little mod for Skyrim that just replaced the "Riekling death noise" with sound-files that were silent. A simple, elegant solution that Skyrim has always been okay with.

Of course, for some fucking reason, this didn't work. I spent hours upon hours trying to figure out what was wrong, to no avail.

In the end, I threw my hands up, left the mod installed (since it didn't get in the way) and started a new save. Boom, no death-noise.

Obviously I was mystified and vaguely horrified at the possible implication that the sound-file was somehow hardcoded into the save-file, because how the fuck would that even happen????

But it worked, right? So who gives a shit. Live and let live.

Killed a riekling today, and it made the death-noise.

Immediately went to check that I'd installed the mod, and yeah, it'd been installed from the start. So, clearly it'd become quiet back then for some completely different reason.

Was very unhappy about it, but decided to open the Creation-Kit to see if I could track something down. Ended up finding a "riekling death-noise"-file that clearly linked to all of those aforementioned sound-files, and-...

And nothing was using that file. As in, nothing was referencing or calling to this file at all.

Which would mean that the Creation-Kit is telling me that SOMEHOW the game just spontaneously without any references or anything at all, just plays the death-noise (that has already been erased from the game) exactly when it needs to.

And like... what the fuck dude?

[loving-n0t-heyting]

hey, so i'm like... at a strange crossroads here. i was homeschooled, it was really traumatic for me, i don't think kids should have to go through the shit i did. at the same time... i was homeschooled because i literally, physically couldn't enter a public school due to disability, and so were the rest of my homeschooled friends. there were a lot of people in the homeschooling scene who were homeschooled for religious abuse reasons, and even the disabled kids were not-infrequently abused due to the structure of homeschooling.

as a result, i'm really... torn. i'm very sympathetic to homeschool abolition, but simultaneously, if i was forced to go to in-person school, it would have killed multiple of my family members--they're immunocompromised, which meant neither they nor anyone they lived with could be in a building with more than a few dozen people daily. i had friends growing up who were immunocompromised themselves, so entering a public school building daily would have killed *them.* in less extreme versions, i had friends who couldn't go to school because they couldn't accommodate their sensory needs and being in a building with those lights and that much sound would have made it impossible for them to do anything but curl into a ball in pain. my sibling couldn't go to school, even if our family wasn't immunocompromised, because he wore adult diapers and aspirated on food, and there wasn't a single school in our city that was willing to accommodate a teenager who needed an aid to change his diapers and feed him.

and in homeschooling abolition discussions... i never really see anyone talking about us and the fact that a significant chunk of homeschooling--including the abusive kind--occurs because of us existing. i don't see a lot of discussion of what happens to us when homeschooling is abolished. and that really worries me, because like... we're a *lot* of the homeschooling population. we're a lot of the *victims* of the kind of abuse homeschooling enables! it doesn't feel right to talk about how we're victimized without addressing the reasons that victimization occurs in the first place and offering solutions for them. and i feel really torn about how to address that, because pointing out those reasons in the first place keeps getting taken as defending abuse. but i don't want to defend abuse, i just want to know that kids who are disabled like i am are being centered in the discussions that directly impact whether they live or die. i want the discussions to directly address what the option that is not public school and is not homeschool is, and how to create the structure for that option. i want to be on the same page that we are *not* talking about sending disabled children to public school.

i absolutely agree that disability accommodations are an extremely important problem to address in education policy, in fact idt ik anyone with my broad attitude towards education who doesnt think they are of paramount importance. whats mystifying to me is why this is somehow an argument against giving priority to public education: the right to inclusion ("sending disabled children to public school") has been a rallying cry of the disability advocacy movt for decades, and is the basis of core federal legislation on the topic like the individuals with disabilities education act (yes, including for immunocompromised students). now, you can fairly complain that this legislation is itself too weak to get the job done and often receives very inadequate enforcement to boot, but this is an argument for expanded protections and more robust enforcement mechanisms, not giving parents free rein to do with their children as they see fit. and there is no more effective incentive for superior enforcement than universal buy-in, which is not going to happen except by force

its also mysterious what the superior alternative is to public schooling for disabled students. traditional private schools, naturally, suffer from the more general accessibility problem that they weed out poorer families by their very nature. homeschooling comes with this hobble (not all families can afford to homeschool their kids), along with the unfortunate reality that even generally intellectually and academically competent parents are not automatically endowed with gifts as special educators and the atrocious shortcomings of disability rights law for homeschooled students. these shortcomings are part of the broader lobby-won trend to curtail otherwise standard rights and protections for homeschooled students, and like other aspects of this trend come with a body count (see link above). the plague of charter schools, finally, is recognised even among sympathetic analysts to fail disabled students especially egregiously—a natural consequence of the "school choice" movts policy priorities of testable "school performance" and general deregulation. again, ik you and other disabled students who have benefited from being homeschooled. there are parents i would actively counsel to homeschool their disabled children. but this is on the level of individual advice, not public policy, and there is no solution to the social problem of disabled childrens right to education by way of privatisation. its a dead fucking end

[juststeveandtonythings]

X-Men #30. Scott, following Ben Urich's exposé on Orchis (published in Uncanny Avengers #5), has been moved to Paris since anti-mutant sentiment in the U.S. has shifted. Meanwhile, Tony, in his Mark Nil armor, has a clandestine meeting with Firestar (I am still mystified as to how their alliance came to be, but I am glad it's a thing - oh wait, now I can edit this and say Hellfire Gala 2022 likely played a role), and tells her how to bait Feilong and pals, which subsequently happens in IIM #14. As for the solution mentioned in that second panel above - basically, part of the X-Men's woes have been that they were providing medicines to humans which were helping them with a lot of bad stuff, but Orchis implanted a kill switch in said medicine and has been using that to threaten the X-Men, so they need to find a way to get rid of the kill switch. This comes in the form of Synch (Everett Thomas) and Talon (Laura Kinney) visiting the High Evolutionary to retrieve some sort of bioweapon that would sterilize all of humanity. There is definitely backstory here that I am not aware of, but whatever.

Happily, they succeed and give the bioweapon to Tony. Yay Tony. It's not all fun and games, though, because apparently Talon pseudo-died in the process, which is probably going to result in an X-Men side story that I won't know the resolution to since I am only reading X-Men for Avengers reasons. But that's a thing.

- X-Men Vol 6 #30 (2024)

[sburbian-sage]

if a seer's job is to compile information and share it with others/teach, then what about the other classes jobs?

Oh boy, elementary game guides. This chapter contains most of the information you need, but to boil it down... I'll describe each Class Type and the broad theme, the Active and Passive Classes and how they augment or channel that theme, and an example of someone doing their job.

Combat Classes (one who fights) engage and succeed in strife, wielding their Aspect like a weapon. The Page (+) fights for themselves, growing though conflict into becoming their own paragon, while the Knight (-) fights for another, setting aside their own desires to do what must be done. A Page kills a Titachnid because it stands between them and their goals, and because triumphing in this conflict sharpen's the Page's will. A Knight kills a Titachnid because it is their duty, a task passed on by someone else, who in a way turn the Knight into a weapon.

Inheritor Classes (one who accepts) take on responsibility, and then gain empowerment from their Aspect to be able to carry out that responsibility, which enables them to undertake more responsibility. The Ward (+) is more directly protected by their Aspect, but will grow into their own (while learning to rely on others) while the Heir (-) is more guided by their Aspect, and will need to accept responsibilities for the needs of the many. The Ward undertakes an impossible trial because it's part of becoming their best self. The Heir undertakes an impossible trial because others are counting on them.

Tactical Classes (one who planifies) gather information, with their Aspect either being the subject of investigation, or the tool used for said investigation. When the information is gathered, the Sage (+) is the one who acts on it, acting wisely instead of acting smartly, while the Seer (-) devises a plan and lets someone else enact it, taking a more advisory role. A Sage would uncover the solution to a mystifying puzzle, and then solves it themself. A Seer would uncover the solution, and instruct someone else on how to solve it. The irony that I, a Native Sage, have been effectively reduced to the position of a Seer is not lost on me.

Cryptical Classes (one who bewilders) are to engage with the more confusing and esoteric aspects of the game, using their Aspect as a torch and as a lever, while complexifying the situation for their fellow players. The Witch (+) leans more into delving into the odd, while the Mage (-) involves others in the strangeness. A Witch would be the first one to intuitively understand how Dreaming, Alchemy, and other befuddling game mechanics work, but remains a figure of mystery through refusing to let others in on the secret. A Mage has a similar level of understanding, but gets the other players wrapped up in it, simultaneously confusing them while indirectly teaching them.

Champion Classes (one who strides forward) are inspiring exemplars and spiritual leaders, meant to advance a cause and stick by their principles. The Sylph (+) wields their Aspect like a baton (or like an axe), relentlessly pushing forward to see their dreams come to reality, while the Bane (-) is a beast brought forth by their Aspect, awakening in times of need. A Sylph who has resolved to protect their friends would look forward to identify any dangers, and then takes care of them immediately. A Bane who has resolved to protect their friends is for the most part docile until the danger rears its head, at which point the Bane cannot be stopped as they crusade to tear off said danger's head. You'll note that jobs can overlap, with Combat/Champion/Protector especially being somewhat superfluous at times. The execution is half of the point, the other is intent.

Explorator Classes (one who discovers) delve into the unknown, charting unexplored territory (literal or metaphorical) with their Aspect as the locale or the polestar. The Scout (+) goes it alone, gathering information that can be acted on by them or by another, while the Guide (-) assists another person (or event) in reaching their desired destination. A Scout enters a dangerous and forbidden region out of a desire to discover (and make use of) all of its secrets. A Guide takes another into the same region because there's something they need in there.

Protector Classes (one who defends) fight for the sake of somebody else, and the ideals of their Aspect, prioritizing survival of all parties involved over triumph in vanquishment. The Dame (+) proactively takes care of threats, like a bodyguard "casing the joint" before their charge arrives and taking care of things ahead of time, while the Guard (-) sticks by their charge and handles them as they come, deriving strength the more people are in danger. If a Consort village was being threatened by roving Imps, the Dame would do patrols, repel attacks, and drive them off, potentially even following them back to their den to finish them off (as long as this doesn't endanger their charge). The Guard in the same situation would hold the line until the Imps don't have any more forces to send.

Displacement Classes (one who steals) are about movement, both physically changing your position and location, and metaphorically shifting results in your favor or appropriating intangible concepts, taking their Aspect and using their Aspect to take. It's about tipping the odds in their favor, but the Thief (+) tips the scales for their own benefit, while the Rogue (-) tips the scale to the entire party's benefit, the difference between stealing something and hoarding it, or stealing something and redistributing it to those who need it. A Thief would "acquire assets" from a foe and keep the riches for themselves, even if it means hogging the spotlight. A Rogue would give those assets to their allies, even if it means the Rogue doesn't profit as much.

Destroyer Classes (one who brings to an end) bring closure to things, resolving threads and stories, as well as reducing more tangible things to nothing. The Prince (+) directly destroys their Aspect and can destroy things with their Aspect, while the Bard (-) influences things in such a manner that the thing ends when the Bard desires it. A Prince ends their Quest and kills the Tyrant by walking up and beheading them, wordlessly. A Bard's Quest ends after all the dominoes have fallen, with things reaching their engineered conclusions, and the Tyrant doing themself in.

Performer Classes (one who fulfills) are meant to ensure the session goes smoothly, helping things along and smoothing out the rough edges, with their Aspect as the lubricant (get your head out of the gutter). The Maid (-) enhances the capabilities and development of the people and events around them, serving the role of an all-purpose assistant. A Maid would stand with their ally and help them bring an end to their Quest, physically aiding them with the final action, or psychologically providing council and support. The Clown (+) is not a "real" Class, and you don't need to worry about it.

Creative Classes (one who creates) expands and builds upon things, creating their Aspect and creating with their Aspect. The Smith (+) is the most active Class in the game, sparking massive change and kicking off events any time they act, while the most passive Class in the game, the Muse (-), acts through intermediaries, inspiring intricate chains of events and change through presence alone. A Smith leads their Session to success by taking charge, directing the course of events with their own two hands. A Muse does much the same without ever needing to be there, with each action creating a ripple effect that pays off in the long run, over and over again.

Cataclysm Classes (one who ignites) bring change to their Session, often causing disaster, but it never ends with a bang or a whimper. Some people see this as the "bad" Class, but change is an inevitable force, and better for powers that can alter the course of events to be on your side than left to the whims of Skaia. The Waste (+) causes waves with every action, and can move mountains to suit their needs. The Grace (-) is a more insidious force, lighting fuses that culminate in the desired change. To prevent a potential TPK, the Waste would step forth with the force of a hurricane, bending, twisting, destroying, and rebuilding until they get what they want. The Grace would act with seeming discretion, events proceeding as normal until the moment of truth, where things change just as dramatically, averting a grisly fate.

I hope that was a bit clear. The Aspect matters a lot here. A Seer of Mind, for example, will bring about the results they want because they can see the consequences of any action, and select for the desirable actions, while a Seer of Time can scan the infinite timelines and push for the desirable one, while a Seer of Blood probably does something weird and metaphorical like create cohesion and unity between the situation now and the situation then, or maybe they know how much blood gets spilled in the future and tries to minimize that amount or something. In all cases though, your Class defines what you'll be doing, your Aspect determines how you do it, and your Active/Passive status determines why you do it. As a (former) Sage of Mind, I plan for the future (what I do) using logical deduction and the outcomes of results (how I do it) and I'm motivated by a desire to solve problems decisively and comprehensively (why I do it).

[kidge-planet]

Space puppies

Hello people, I wrote that fic for @alphaofdarkness because a while ago ( years ago) She drew Baebae's and Kosmo's puppies and she told me that she hopped that someone would write a fic about them, that she waited long but yet, no one did it! SO I NEEDED TO DO IT---

(I took a lot of time to finally write that so idk if anyone wrote it in the meantime but anyways, I hope you like it!)

tw- That fic is a kidge fic! don't like it, don't read it!!!!

Pidge sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through data on her computer while Baebae, her dog, lay at her feet. It had been a week since the Paladins returned to Earth to prepare for their next mission with the Atlas. It was a quiet evening at the Holt residence when she noticed something peculiar about her furry friend....

"Hey, Baebae," she mused, scratching the dog behind her ears. "You've been eating a bit more, huh?" It wasn't an accusation, just an observation.

But as she continued to pet her dog, she couldn't ignore the subtle bump beneath Baebae's fur. Her dog's tummy was definitely more prominent than usual. It puzzled her. Baebae hadn't been around any male dogs for months. How on Earth—or in space, for that matter—had she ended up pregnant?

Concerned and mystified, Pidge decided to consult with her family about her discovery. A trip to the vet was in order to confirm her suspicion, and she took her family and Baebae along for the visit. The vet's examination confirmed that Baebae was indeed expecting puppies, much to everyone's amazement.

As they pondered the enigma of Baebae's pregnancy, the days passed. Soon, Pidge's dog gave birth to a litter of adorable puppies that, to everyone's surprise, bore a striking resemblance to Keith's space wolf.

Quickly, Keith got called to see...

"What is i-... HO! wow..." Keith stopped himself in front of the small balls of fur next to Baebae.

"Tell me that you think the same as me..." Pidge showed the puppies with a finger.

"Kosmo is literally the father!.." He answered, not quitting his eyes from them...

"So... What are we supposed to do with them now?"

"Well-" Keith couldn't finish his answer as the puppies teleported away.

That was it, they lost the puppies...

"OK, Kosmo is LITERALLY the father...".

"WE HAVE TO FIND THEM, KEITH!" she grabbed his arm and pulled his face toward hers.

At this gesture, he blushed, "huh, yeah... Let's find them and then figure out what to do..."

They rushed through the Garrison's hallways, searching for any sign of a puppy...

"Should we split up? Or maybe we should stay together?"

"Splitting up sounds good..." As Keith said that, they heard a strange noise coming from a nearby closet... They opened it, and inside, they found a small blue and fluffy dog crawling on the ground...

"One! Now gotta find the four others..." She picked the puppy up, and then turned toward Keith.

He quickly nodded...

So they searched... And searched... But found only 3 puppies... Where was the last one?

They kept looking for it but it was in vain... No blue puppy around...

So they decided to go back to the room where Baebae was peacefully resting, and finally, they found it! The last one stayed here all along! Cuddling with his mother... At the sight of the last puppy, both Keith and Pidge felt relief on their shoulders... They placed the puppies next to Baebae, hoping that they would not teleport away again...

"They will disappear again... That's for sure... Now, what do we do? Is there something that you do with Kosmo for him to not teleport?" Pidge sighed as she sat next to Baebae and patted her head.

"No, nothing... I let Kosmo do whatever he wants... I always did..."

"Well, we have to find a way..."

As they were both thinking of a solution, Kosmo finally teleported into the room...

He walked toward Baebae and licked the tip of her nose very quickly, which got her to yawn, take a look at him, and sleep again....

He then took a look at his five puppies and gave them a few sniffs before actually licking their backs, as if he was recognizing that they were his kids...

"Keith, look, the droll mark that he left on the puppies' backs is different than the one he left on Baebae's nose... The one on Baebae is totally invisible, while the one on the puppies' backs is glittery and a bit blue... Maybe that's how he marks the fact that they are his kids... HO! maybe, that's how he does it for the babies to not teleport everywhere!"

Keith blinked twice and turned toward the babies, "hey, you're right! Maybe we should stay and see what they do? Like... You know... Make sure that they don't teleport again?"

At this exact moment, one of the puppies teleported away... But then, Kosmo disappeared too, and a few seconds later, he was back with the baby and placed it back next to Baebae...

"OK! I get it now! The lick on the back was a way for him to find them whenever they teleport! Awesome!"

Keith smiled and patted the space wolf, "you're doing a great job, buddy."

Keith and Pidge stayed in the room for a while, discussing their options but also taking pictures of the puppies cuddling with their parents because GOSH, who wouldn't capture that sight of cuteness?!

"They're a beautiful family," Pidge sighed.

"They really are."

"I wish I can form a family as beautiful as this one, one day."

"Shouldn't be hard... You're amazing..." He turned toward her.

She blushed, "thanks."

[supremeuppityone]

Klaroline fanfic update: Romancing the Brimstone

Working on the next chapter of my Klaroline story, Romancing the Brimstone. Here's a quick peek:

Chapter 16: Sixteenth Circle (Corporate Greed)

            May curses rain down upon the diabolical kitchen minions of Cuisin and Art, Klaus swore, wrestling with the rotted, scarred flesh on the counter. It had to be perfect. Seared, grilled, broiled, baked — what was the most palatable way to prepare Mikael’s head?

            “Bloody hell, Nik, what’s taking so long,” Kol asked, poking his head past the veil of braided of intestines to glare at his brother. “Our siblings performed the ritual to breathe stolen breath into Caroline, but you know it’s a temporary solution. We need that cure!”

            It was heartening to hear his brother’s concern, as well as the use of “we”. His siblings had accepted Caroline as one of their own. It disarmed him, and he felt something unpleasant bubble to the surface. Uncertainty. Shame. Fear. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I lose Caroline after everything we’ve been through? After everything I’ve put her through,” he blurted out, hurling a cleaver with enough force to split the collection of Beowulf’s armor that lined the corridor.

            Kol looked just as mystified by his outburst as he was, hastily plucking several searing flames of damnation and juggling them. “Ah. Well, on the bright side, you kidnapped your lover AND she didn’t run away OR try to kill you when you brought her to hell, and I believe that’s like half the problems most couples face, so you’re already winning.”

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Graham Kates, Katrina Kaufman, and Stefan Becket at CBS News:

Twelve New Yorkers have been selected to serve as jurors in former President Donald Trump's criminal trial in Manhattan, filling out the panel on the third day of proceedings.

The 12 jurors include seven men and five women, chosen from a pool of dozens of potential jurors who submitted to questioning about their personal lives and political views. The selection process will continue Friday, since six alternate jurors are needed before the trial can move to opening arguments. One alternate had been selected as of Thursday afternoon. "We have our jury," Judge Juan Merchan said after the new jurors swore an oath to decide the case in a "fair and impartial manner." Trump, seated at the defense table, stared at the newly sworn-in members as they exited the courtroom. Merchan said the court is on track to begin opening statements as soon as Monday. Prosecutors will present their case first. Before court ended for the day, Trump's attorney Todd Blanche asked if the defense could find out the names of the first three witnesses prosecutors plan to call to the stand. Joshua Steinglass, a prosecutor in Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg's office, replied that doing so is a courtesy they normally extend, but refused in this case. 

"Mr. Trump has been tweeting about the witnesses. We're not telling them who the witnesses are," Steinglass said.  Merchan said he "can't blame them." Blanche seemed mystified, and asked if the defense is not going to find out who the witnesses are until they walk in the door. He offered to "commit to the court and the [prosecution] that President Trump will not [post] about any witness" on Truth Social, Trump's social media platform. "I don't think you can make that representation," Merchan said. Blanche offered another solution: giving the witness names only to the lawyers, who wouldn't share them with Trump.

[...] Trump pleaded not guilty when he was indicted more than a year ago on 34 felony counts of falsification of business records. He denies all allegations in the case, which revolves around reimbursements to former attorney Michael Cohen for a "hush money" payment to adult film star Stormy Daniels. Prosecutors say Trump covered up the reimbursements in order to distance himself from the payment, which days before the 2016 presidential election temporarily bought Daniels' silence about an alleged affair. He has also denied having the affair. Trump has raged against the case, accusing prosecutors of charging him for political reasons. He has also frequently lashed out at the judge on social media, accusing Merchan of bias. "I'm supposed to be in New Hampshire. I'm supposed to be in Georgia. I'm supposed to be in North Carolina. South Carolina," the presumptive Republican nominee for president said in the hallway outside the courtroom. "I'm supposed to be a lot of different places, campaigning. But I've been here all day on a trial that really is a very unfair trial."

All 12 jurors and one alternate juror was seated during the 3rd day of the jury selection process in the Trump falsification of business records trial. 5 more alternate juror spots need filled before opening arguments begin. #TrumpTrial

[delimeful]

July 2023 Patreon Previews

Here is the end of month summary for July! :D

give me mercy no more (1)

preview:

“You can’t do this.”

Janus paused for the briefest moment at the sound of his closest friend’s voice, before continuing to pack away rations.

“Can’t I?” he asked airily, not turning around to face Virgil.

He’d known this confrontation was inevitable since they’d come up with the only possible solution to their kingdom’s problem. He hadn’t realized how unprepared he’d feel even now, with the hour of tribute rapidly approaching.

est. release date: September 16, 2023

(link)

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just a little rush (1)

preview:

Patton wiggled his shoulder through the bars and craned his neck, straining to get a good enough angle to see the other half of the clock across the room.

Enough of the clock’s face was visible that he could guess the time most of the day, except for the stretch of time in which both the hour and minute hands were out of sight. Patton wasn’t usually overly concerned about the loss; Normally, it didn’t really matter either way.

Now, when it had been what felt like ages since he’d last seen Remus, it mattered a lot more.

Of course Remus had chosen the most inconvenient timing possible to stage his latest escape attempt. Patton would smile if he wasn’t so worried.

est. release date: September 23, 2023

(link)

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a little trust (goes a long way)

preview:

Fidget knew it was a bad idea from the very start.

He shouldn’t even have entertained such a ridiculous notion for a moment, and yet somehow he’d not only done so, but he’d also allowed it to roll around in his mind until it became an entire, fully-fledged plan.

A plan that was absolutely going to get him killed.

He was crouched in the shadows of one of the supply stacks sitting on the edge of the second level, meaning he had a perfect view of the containment yard and its current resident.

(link)

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every good intention (4)

preview:

Roman had been thinking.

Contemplating, really. There were a surplus of mystifying elements to consider as of late, especially now that he’d found out about Logan and Anxiety’s secret tryst.

(He was fairly certain that platonic cuddling between a repressed nerd and an awkward emo didn’t actually qualify as a tryst, but it sounded much more dramatic that way.)

He was no Logic, but as a charming and exceptional denizen of Thomas’s mind, he naturally had wits aplenty of his own.

And so arrived his realization: When it came to the puzzle that was his interactions with Anxiety the past few weeks, there was a pattern.

est. release date: September 30, 2023

(link)

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to know that song (and all it’s words) (10)

preview:

“You hurt him,” Patton said, and he barely even recognized the sound that came out of him as his own voice.

Whatever the leader alien was saying was lost to the distant buzzing in Patton’s head. Logan’s response made it through, just barely. His voice had dropped into that icy pitch that meant he was well and truly angry, an ominous tone that made something primal and hunted in the back of Patton’s mind shiver to life.

Be ready, it said. We’ll have to fight soon.

est. release date: October 7, 2023

(link)

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the roots of something greener (1)

preview:

The first time the child found him, Janus was already in a foul mood.

The day had started out with a light drizzle, and as the hours crept by, it had slowly grown into a far more irritating downpour.

This wouldn’t have been anything near a problem for most fae, and certainly a meager handful of years ago, Janus would have hardly spared it a fleeting thought. Even if he didn’t care to waste any magic on a simple repelling spell, he could have simply slipped between realms, abandoning that particular stretch of human land until the storm passed.

Now that he was banished and bound, however, his options were far more limited.

est. release date: October 14, 2023

(link)

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just a little rush (2)

preview:

Remus hated to admit it, but Pattycakes had been right.

He definitely should have waited a little longer before trying for his next escape attempt.

It was the woulda-coulda-shoulda sort of regret that he didn’t usually waste time on. He was well aware of how many of his plans were bonafide bad ideas, and he generally went through with them anyhow.

The alternative was letting the fire ants under his skin grow more and more intolerable until he ended up doing the dumb thing anyway, but even more recklessly. It wasn’t so much a ‘choice’ as it was a ‘delay of the inevitable’.

After all, he was the only one getting hurt in the end, right?

est. release date: October 21, 2023

(link)

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WIBAR Intermission: Visiting Home (1/3)

preview:

Despite the tension buzzing at the back of his skull, Virgil found that being planetside again was surprisingly… nice.

He would have preferred that it was an uninhabited area— or at least, that it wasn’t one of the only places in the universe that had aliens he really, really couldn’t afford to terrify— but he couldn’t deny that feeling the ground under his feet and the sunlight on his skin was soothing, a balm he hadn’t known he’d needed.

It wasn’t the same as Earth, not really, but Patton’s home planet was close enough to familiar that he found tension seeping from his overwrought muscles despite himself.

He shook some of the dazed contentment off, flicking a glance over his shoulder and reminding himself that if any of the locals saw him, it could spell Capital-D Disaster.

est. release date: October 28, 2023

(link)

[snowdust64]

Midnight Dancehall – English translation

Artist: Genzuki Toujirou Original lyrics: KANON Translation and romanization by Snowdust64 ========== Lyrics that were originally in roman letters are denoted in bold. (I say roman letters because there was English, German, and Italian all represented.) Implied pronouns are in bold with my best guesses. ==========

kaki ran shite sairento mūn raito himeta yokubō yoru no zanzō ureu boku-sō  Shall we dance? The night bows down to me kake awaseta “Kaiser” x “Schah” hai ni naru Asset   disukōdo wa arayaka ni

Disturbingly silent moonlight, hidden desires, afterimages of the night I’m troubled, Shall we dance? The night bows down to me Crossing over “Kaiser” x “Schah” An Asset turns into ash, discord into elegance

shikiri mo shinai ai o katarō yo   gozenreiji ayashiku yoishirete boku no maede wa nakanaide Follow kotoba nante an'ina wana wa fade-out akkenai yo o hōri satte

Let's deceive the love [we] don't even understand, getting mysteriously intoxicated at midnight Don’t cry in front of me, Follow   The words that make a simple trap fade-out Throw away this boring world

misete ageru yo Dance in the midnight karami dasu  inga  mienai? hora ne Dance in the moonlight waruku nain janai? Dance in the midnight mawari dasu   inga   mugen dai   motto Dance in the moonlight kimi to danshingu raruri rattatta

[I’ll] show you Dance in the midnight  Entangling cause and effect, can’t [you] see it? Come on Dance in the moonlight  Not bad, is it? Dance in the midnight  Revolving cause and effect, to infinity – even more, Dance in the moonlight  Dancing with you ra-ru-ri ra-ta-ta

zensō ￫ kōsō de hane nobasu Pause   yami, So motteru kin narasu   Boy Moderato de utau shadow   uzōmuzō sū-ingu dashite garatto carando uneri dashiteku yo barashi to Ballade nari i iketteku yo rizumu aimai-gimi ni   sā, te o totte

From Introduction → Postlude, spread your wings, Pause Darkness, So ring the gold you have, Boy A shadow singing in Moderato   Faceless rabble, break out a swing Completely calando, starting to swell Disassembly and Ballade, it’ll all go well In ambiguous rhythm, come now, take [my] hand

miesuita ai wa iranai   gozenreiji kokoro nagesutete oku no kai ni wa kidzukanaide Follow   moroha nante kaigina kata wa fade-out akenai yoru wa kōritsuite

[We] don’t need a see-through love   At midnight, Throwing away [our] hearts Without noticing the solution inside, Follow   Double-edged swords and skeptics fade-out The unending night is frozen

kikasete okureyo Dance in the midnight karami dasu  inga  mienai? hora ne Dance in the moonlight bakabakashii deshou? Dance in the midnight mawari dasu   inga   mugen dai   motto Dance in the moonlight kimi to danshingu raruri rattatta

Let me hear it Dance in the midnight  Entangling cause and effect, can’t [you] see it? Come on Dance in the moonlight  Ridiculous, isn’t it? Dance in the midnight  Revolving cause and effect, to infinity – even more, Dance in the moonlight  Dancing with you ra-ru-ri ra-ta-ta

hi ga kieta   dare mo inai dansuhōru aa   kimi mo mō    yume kara samenakucha

The lights have disappeared   In this deserted dancehall Ah, you too must awaken from the dream now

kuraimakkusu e! Dance in the midnight karami dasu  inga  mienai? hora ne Dance in the moonlight mata o aishimashou? Dance in the midnight mawari dasu   inga   mugen dai   motto Dance in the moonlight kimi to danshingu raruri rattatta

To the climax! Dance in the midnight  Entangling cause and effect, can’t [you] see it? Come on Dance in the moonlight  Shall [we] meet again? Dance in the midnight  Revolving cause and effect, to infinity – even more, Dance in the moonlight  Dancing with you ra-ru-ri ra-ta-ta

===== some notes, mostly commentary =====

This song was confusing to translate. The alliteration across different languages was cool, but the actual content was completely, totally mystifying… After sitting on a draft of this translation for about a month, I decided to not overanalyze it and leave the confusing parts to readers’ interpretations.

I can at least offer a few definitions of musical terms appearing in the lyrics:

moderato: from Italian, instructing the musician to play at a moderate tempo (speed)

calando: from Italian, instructing the musician to slow down and also play quieter

ballade: from German (or French?), describing musical compositions that convey dramatic and emotional stories. The meaning has evolved a bit in modern songwriting.

"Kaiser" is a German word/name; when converted to other languages, Kaiser and Kayser end up being the same. My only musically-relevant idea was that maybe “Kaiser” was referring to Heinrich Ernst Kayser, a composer and violinist/violist who wrote a famous series of musical exercises – most advanced string players will recognize the name.

But I have no clue what “Schah” means.

I might re-watch some of Genzuki's archives to see if he explained the lyrics on stream. From what I recall, he only talked about how technically challenging it was to sing, but if I find anything I will update this post. Any readers with more insight, please weigh in. :)

[dudeyuri]

sweet sweet fantasy, tinn/gun, 2.8k words

here on ao3 as well

“If you get up before me,” Tinn had said, shortly before drifting off, “I’d like to be kissed awake.”

They had already turned the lights off for the night. Their mouths were minty with toothpaste and sore from making out. He heard Gun giggle—no, he felt it, the sweet vibration of chest against chest, the puff of breath on his chin.

“Like Sleeping Beauty?” Gun asked through a yawn. His arm snaked around Tinn’s waist. “What if I have morning breath?”

“I won’t mind,” Tinn said, his voice already dreamy, his eyelids heavier than a textbook. He fell asleep there, with his nose buried in Gun’s hair.

And when he woke, it was to a soft and wet suction on his lips. His eyes fluttered open to find the day’s first sight: that wonderfully familiar and pink mouth hovering above him. It pulled into a sleepy, shy smile; Gun peered down at him. The room was filled with gentle morning sunlight. Gun’s eyes sparkled with it.

“Good morning, darling,” Gun teased. His hair was messy; it looked like Tinn’s fingers had been carding through it all night. Because they had, he recalled with groggy delight.

“You’re up early,” said Tinn, when he remembered how to speak. Gun cupped his face with a caressing hand.

“I couldn’t sleep a minute longer.” His angelic smile pulled into an angelic pout. He ran his thumb along Tinn’s lower lip. His voice went husky when he said: “My lips were missing yours too much.”

A sunflower bloomed in Tinn’s chest as Gun tipped up his chin. Glittery eyes zeroed in on Tinn’s mouth. Tinn watched through his eyelashes as Gun lowered gradually, achingly, until their lips just barely brushed again, as fleeting as a—

—dream. Tinn blinked blearily up at the ceiling, sucking in a deep breath. He willed his racing heart to settle. And then, mystified, he remembered the warm weight beside him in bed. They had drifted apart from their embrace as they slept. Gun sprawled diagonally across the bed on his stomach, one of his legs flung over both of Tinn’s.

Tinn had, of course, woken up before him. 

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, then fondly at the shape of his boyfriend under the blanket. He reached out to run his fingers through the short hair on the back of Gun’s head.

“Gun,” he whispered. His hand squeezed Gun’s shoulder. He heard a grunt muffled by a pillow. “Gu-un. Time to wake up.”

“Mmph.” Gun stirred. He turned so his face was toward Tinn. His eyes were squeezed closed. He mumbled: “Can't.”

“You can’t?” Tinn asked, petting the side of Gun’s head. Half-asleep, Gun’s face scrunched up. He moaned again in protest. He would not open his eyes. Tinn sighed, stroking back his bangs, wondering how long he would have to wait.

“I’m under a spell,” Gun mumbled, suddenly. Tinn thought he was sleep-talking. But then, Gun pursed his lips.

If he had his phone in hand, Tinn might have taken a picture of it. If he took a picture of every cute face Gun made, he would need to look into external storage solutions. He had to stifle a giddy laugh into his fist first, but he did not leave Gun’s ready lips waiting long. 

And as their lips touched, Gun’s eyelashes fluttered open. His eyes glittered even brighter than they had in Tinn’s dream. They regarded each other in the morning light, smiling.

“You have bedhead,” Gun said.

“You have sleep in your eyes,” Tinn said. 

Gun rubbed those eyes. Then he threw his arms above his head and stretched, twisting this way and that, before landing his head on Tinn’s pillow. They tangled their legs together under the covers. Tinn was on his side, watching Gun settle in close on his back. He went so quiet, save for his gentle breathing, that Tinn thought he had fallen back to sleep. 

“So…” he said into the comfortable silence. His hand found Tinn’s on top of the blanket and he intertwined their fingers. Mischievous eyes fluttered open again.

“So?” breathed Tinn. When Gun turned his head, the tips of their noses almost brushed.

“Am I a good kisser?” Gun asked. He had a teasing glint in his eye, but a shy curiosity in his voice. 

Tinn pretended to think about it for a moment.

“Yes. You have soft lips,” he decided, and those soft lips stretched into a pearly white grin. Tinn propped his head up in his palm to look down at Gun. Their joined hands rested on Gun’s stomach. “Let me ask you something. When we kissed, did you feel sparks?”

“Sparks? Hmm.” He scratched his head, pouted up at Tinn. Dark eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t remember.”

Tinn held his breath. He knew where this was going. Suddenly his palms felt sweaty. Gun looked up at him through his eyelashes and said, “Can I get a refresher?”

As if Tinn hadn’t just kissed him into waking. Tinn wanted to poke fun at him for it. But how could he do anything else, when Gun jutted his chin up, tilted his head back, closed those teasing eyes?

It was pure gravity; Tinn found himself moving closer, until all he could see was Gun’s face, until he could catch his plush bottom lip between his own. Gun rested his head back on the pillow, his hand gentle on the nape of Tinn’s neck, and when their lips broke apart, he nudged them together again for seconds. 

Tinn was discovering just how unfathomably weak he was to those lips. He thought it was hard to not kiss Gun before—now that he’d had a taste, it would be impossible to keep away. He’ll have a daily quota to fill.

“Well?” Tinn said, finally, after floating back down to Earth. His lips tingled.

Gun blinked his eyes open slowly, as if he were waking up again from a particularly lovely dream. 

“No sparks.” Tinn raised his eyebrows. Something deep in his stomach did a backflip when Gun grinned. “Fireworks.”

He was fighting the giddiness off his face. “I’m a good kisser too, then?”

Gun mirrored him, hiding his smile against the pillow.

“Yes. Kissing you…gives me butterflies in my stomach,” he said. Tinn felt those butterflies, too, and he felt his heart melt, and he felt these things so acutely that he almost missed Gun pointing an accusing finger in his face. “Even though you put your tongue in my mouth last night.”

“Oh,” said Tinn, blinking. “You didn’t like that?”

Gun’s mouth opened and closed around a stutter. “I didn’t say—that—”

“You made a happy noise, and put your arms around my neck,” Tinn said, recalling the moment, as if it had not been on replay in the back of his mind since it happened. “I thought—”

“Okay, okay,” Gun said, patting Tinn’s chest again. His laugh was nervous. “That’s enough.”

“I won’t do it again if you don’t like it, Gun.”

“Tinn. I liked it,” Gun said through his teeth, whispering as if they weren’t alone. His blush was contagious. “Happy?”

Tinn was finding that the crook of Gun’s neck was the perfect place to bury his burning face.

“Don’t get shy,” Gun cooed into his hair. “It was your tongue.”

Tinn buried his face even further, until Gun started squirming. Happy was an understatement.

“I feel like we’re on our honeymoon,” he said into the tender skin under Gun’s jaw. Gun squeezed at his waist. Tinn felt him laughing beneath his weight.

“Honeymoon, my ass,” he said. And against the shell of Tinn’s ear: “A wedding comes first.”

Gun might as well have chimed the wedding bells with his words, because they rang clear as day in Tinn’s mind... 

Making merit with his soon-to-be husband, making eyes at each other in an intimate engagement ceremony. Their wedding, on a bright and clear spring day, maybe on the beach, where they vow their eternal devotion to each other. Slowdancing to a love song on the sand. Gun looking handsome as hell in a tuxedo, serenading him during the reception in front of their friends and family. Their first kiss as newlyweds.

And then after the reception, when he has Gun to himself in their shared bedroom, and Gun has eyes only for him, and they’re both exhausted after the best day of their lives but still feeding off each other’s energy, and Gun reaches up to loosen the tie around his neck and runs his fingers back through his windswept hair, and he takes a step in closer to Tinn—

Two hands taking hold of his face reeled Tinn back to reality. He blinked and the fantasy washed away. Gun’s face appeared before him, laughing. His thumbs swiped over Tinn’s cheeks. 

“You have an active imagination in here, huh?” he teased. He rapped gently on Tinn’s forehead with two knuckles. 

“Thoughts of you keep me very inspired,” Tinn said, though his face felt hot beneath Gun’s hand. 

“Oh?” said Gun, and he squeezed Tinn’s face a little. His eyes went fierce. “And are your fantasies better than what you have right in front of you?” 

Tinn wiggled his head out of Gun’s grip, amazed. “Are you jealous of the Gun in my dreams?”

“Who’s jealous?” Gun pulled a pout. He stroked Tinn’s hair idly. “I'm just curious. Is our relationship everything you’ve ever dreamt of for the past two years?”

Tinn could cycle through some of the fantasies he often visited in his daydreams, before he and Gun got close—there was the one where Gun asks him on a date at the cafe on his birthday two years ago, or the one where they get trapped together in the supply closet down the hall from the music room, and then how could he forget the one where he’s a medical student and local rockstar Gun offers to help him practice mouth-to-mouth—

But right in front of him? Gun’s fringe fell into his eyes; he kept shaking it back with a jerk of his head. Tinn could feel a break out on the side of his nose and itched to wash his face. They both had morning breath, a little. Tinn kind of had to pee. Gun’s stomach kept growling. Outside, rain. It was imperfect. His boyfriend quirked an eyebrow at him, raptly awaiting his response. Tinn could not remember ever waking up feeling so golden. 

“Well, in my fantasies…maybe things are a little easier for you,” Tinn decided. He poked Gun’s nose. “But other than that, nothing could beat reality.”

And then, there was Gun’s smile, the one that was only for him; where his eyes go soft and flirty and he absolutely beams. Tinn had its essence filed away for frequent use in his daydreams; it could make any dull hour in class fly by, it could liven up any hot shower. But it never made his heart skip the same way it did now, in real life, mere inches from his own. 

“Really? Even with all that time you had to wait? Even with all the,” Gun paused to search for the word, “drama?”

“The longer you wait for dessert,” Tinn leaned toward Gun’s ear to speak softly, aiming to give him pleasant chills, “the sweeter it is.”

“My boyfriend,” Gun said, shoving at his shoulder until Tinn was on his back, Gun hovering menacingly over him, “is so cheesy.” 

Tinn’s hands came up to frame the nape of Gun’s neck, the side of his face. Gun turned his smile against the palm of his hand. His grin took on a shy quality when he met Tinn’s eyes from above. 

“But I was also wondering,” he began in a low voice, “if there was anything I can learn from all your daydreams?”

“Learn?” breathed Tinn. Gun moved closer to him under the covers, though there was not much space between their bodies to begin with. Their heartbeats were pressed together. He was pleasantly heavy on top of Tinn.  

“Like, if there’s anything you like to fantasize about…” he said, batting his eyelashes a couple of times, and Tinn knew he was in trouble, “involving me…?”

“Gun,” Tinn said, and he swallowed sharply. He felt his pulse like a hummingbird in his neck. He was getting lost in Gun’s dark eyes. “Are you talking about…” 

That vivid imagination of his clocked out. It went home for the day. In his head a car door slammed, an engine turned, tires screeched on asphalt. His mind discarded everything that was not Gun right in front of him, heavy in his arms, warm in his bed. There weren't fireworks between them, now, but a rippling electric current, waiting to take hold of something conductive and shock it through. Tinn released the breath he was holding when Gun broke eye contact first, blinking as if dazed.

“W-we don’t have to think about it now,” he said, scratching his head. “We only just had our first kiss.”

“And second. And third,” said Tinn, remembering each one with increasing fondness and perspiration. “And f—”

Gun pressed one finger to his lips. Then he replaced his finger with a peck. And fifth, and sixth. When they broke apart, breathing each other’s air, Tinn stretched out his arm along the pillow for Gun to rest his cheek on. Cuddling in, Gun traced a line with his finger from Tinn’s chin to his ear to his clavicle. Tinn breathed in the scent of Gun’s shampoo, borrowed from him the night before. Together they cooled down. But only a bit.

“There is one thing my imagination will never, ever be able to capture,” Tinn said into the idle silence.

“Oh?” Gun turned to his voice. Tinn bit the inside of his cheek. “What’s that?”

In a quick motion Tinn flipped them so Gun was pressed onto his back, his head still cradled by Tinn’s arm. Tinn loomed above him, just enough distance between their faces so that he could look into Gun’s blissed-out eyes, and then at his waiting mouth.

“Fireworks,” he whispered.

Reality can be so smooth, sometimes. Gun’s mouth keened up into Tinn’s, and they kissed. 

Gun had been right—it really was fireworks, sparkling in the pit of his stomach as their mouths moved against each other, thudding in his chest as Gun’s hands spread over his back. And it was fireworks when Gun opened his mouth against Tinn’s, deepening the kiss. Fireworks when a small noise escaped Gun’s throat, and when he took Tinn’s bottom lip by his teeth. Fireworks when Tinn pulled back for a breath to see Gun’s eyes closed, his lips parted and glistening and waiting; fireworks when he slipped his tongue back inside Gun’s mouth; fireworks when Gun’s hands framed his face and pulled him impossibly close. It was so viscerally a firework show, kissing Gun, that Tinn could actually hear the bang bang bang, even felt the vibration—

Bang, bang. Tinn parted from Gun so abruptly he saw stars. Gun, whining softly at his absence, tried to pull him back down by the face, until he heard it too. His dreamy eyes went wide with panic. Bang, bang.

“Tinn!” Tinn’s mom called from the hallway. Gun and Tinn put an arm’s length of space between them on the bed faster than repelling magnets. Tinn wiped his numb mouth on his sleeve. Her voice was stern, even muted through the door: “Tinn, your father made breakfast. Time to wake up, boys.”

Tinn tried to remember what else his mouth was supposed to do. He cleared his throat a few times. Finally he called out: “We’ll be right out, Mom.”

He heard her retreating footsteps pad away. So did Gun; with a devilish grin, he crawled on top of Tinn, sliding his arms under his back, pinning him into the mattress and giggling against his cheek. Tinn sighed, head spinning as he wrapped his arms around him.

One of Tinn’s fantasies might have had them laid up in bed, gazing into each other’s eyes and licking into each other’s mouths, until noon. The reality: Tinn sat up with Gun on top of him and dragged them both out of bed, Gun grumbling a protest and clinging even tighter. 

His imagination really could not compete with his Gun, in the flesh, muffling impish laughter into his shoulder. It could get him through the dull days and lonely nights. But it simply could not compete with this: Gun hooking his ankle around the back of Tinn’s and almost sending them down, Gun sticking his cold fingertips beneath the hem of Tinn’s shirt as they stumbled across the room entwined, Gun whispering with a kiss and a grin pressed into his neck: “Ask her for five more minutes, baby.”

[tokuteasings]

Sonoi versus Momoi Taro - For the love of the reader

Requested by @askrikkaiandhyotei I found this super duper interesting~!

This is going to turn into a poly relationship bc I can.

This...isn’t an argument. It’s not two opposing sides but simply two parties coming to an understanding. Love is foreign to both Sonoi and Taro but they know of other types of love. But by this time, being around someone like you is...mystifying. It’s this tug at the strings of their heart but it activates in so many different ways that it’s confusing yet exciting all at once. Sonoi’s love is slow, it crawls into his heart and he didn’t even know it was even fucking there until someone told him. It’s this moment between you and him where you make his seemingly nonexistent heart appear and quake and shiver in the best of ways. Taro’s love was when you made him feel at a home he didn’t even know existed. He’s all smiles around you and it’s this he has this honesty that not many people see. He tells you things straight from his heart and his comments towards you are just twinged with this kindness that is both brutal but soft at the same time.

So when they both realize that they both are in love with you they just...stare at each other. They are able to talk about anything together and if these two are partners by this point in time, they will both come to a conclusion to add you into this relationship. It’s simple, honest, and they both have so much love to share to you and to each other that sometimes it’s almost overwhelming to both of them. It’s the idea that because they have so much love for each other and for you, it would only simply make sense for you to join them. 

If these two are not romantic partners by this time and purely platonic, they will simply sit down and talk. It’s not an argument, but a debate. They wouldn’t go head to head with blades completely (even though they do like sparing) and there is a possibility they may even spar in order to properly talk out their feelings. Their blades clashing against each other’s is this sort of zen as they understand one another on this molecular level. They want to make this work, they know they can. Only if you allow it of course. 

So the confession from them both of them comes when they talk to you under the moon one night. It’s not much of a picnic or anything since it’s at the oden cart but they confess to you with complete honesty. Taro doesn’t want to hide this from you and Sonoi wants to find a solution. They understand if rejection will occur, such is life after all. 

If you do agree to date them both, you hear Taro choking on one of his pieces of oden as Sonoi jut straight up drops his into his plate. The two just stare at you in amazement, glance at one another, and then back at you. “Very well, it is settled.” Taro would say with this grin you see him with all of the time but perhaps there’s something special. A festival dancing within his chest and making him feel whole. Sonoi’s smile is a work of art in itself, and perhaps...he is the first one to reach out his hand to yours. It’s a surprise to both him and Taro and when you two take both his hand and Taro’s...it’s this puzzle piece that finally finds completion. The moon will bless the union of three souls with all of its love and adoration.