#anyway time to work on new fic

[callmearcturus]

(((full full full spoilers for SWDKTOWL)))

i don't know if I ever more thoroughly fucked with and decimated a character than KTOWL Dirk, the Umbra Executor

the biggest case of Eldest Daughter syndrome imaginable

a father who used his kids as basically black market credit cards to fund his ambitions

said father was not actually GOOD at those ambitions and got himself killed, leaving the kids with the debt

Dirk took on tremendous personal debt to buy his sister out of hers; she then vanished and he never knew if she even survived

he then made a well-intentioned deal to try to keep his younger brother out of the Murder Business and in doing so put that little brother on permanent house arrest in a hotel under pain of death

is the enforcement agent of the organization keeping his brother locked up and is compelled to defend their interests

meets a man who is explicitly the Enemy and that man is Actually Out Of His Mind on several appreciable levels, who is dangerous... and is the only person who looks at him and recognizes the unfathomable trauma he's been subjected to

and the whole Point, the entire Point, is that Dirk only survived as long as he did because there was a Code of Conduct that he had to follow, that if he betrayed it, he would be killed. when he has fucked up every single thing else in his life and has lost the game over and over and over his choices are self-termination from the weight of it all or to follow this Code and then the story drags him to a place where to get out, to finally do something right he has to CHOOSE to break the Executor's Code for 30 minutes and Dirk has spent his FUCKING LIFE learning that when he makes a choice, the worst possible outcome will be his reward

except this once. just this one time, the universe gives him a single break.

BUT THE FUN PART IS that all of this, this TREMENDOUS amount of bullshit has cracked his sanity to a point he can't be a Normal Person. his happy ending is a better keeper who actually cares about him. and that's good.

DIRK IS NOT EVEN MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN KTOWL BUT I STILL THINK OF HIM OFTEN

[heynhay]

scene from where the apple falls by @jupiters-junipers :-) wholeheartedly recommend any and all of her work

[tunastime]

ok ok?

Once again, Etho and Bdubs find themselves in the same predicament: navigating the complex relationships of their lives while trying to keep each other safe. However, unlike the times before, they have a little bit of a better understanding of each other. And a little more commitment to what they've made together. Or: like every time before, Etho and Bdubs have a conversation. This time, it feels good. (1584 words) (x)

The light sky is waning fast, the fringes of the horizon still orange with fading sunlight. In it, the small, deepslate keep is almost purple, the warmth of the day still held close in the humid river air and sun-warm ground. Inside, Tango is fast asleep. The sniffling breaths he takes are muffled slightly by the noise of nighttime: crickets and salmon and birds. Bdubs is among these noises as he lowers himself to the ground at the base of the keep, dropping his pack and resting against the cooling stone. He tips his head back, letting out a long, tired sigh through his teeth. 

Above him, as he widens his eyes and raises his eyebrows, he can see the beginning pinpricks of stars. He hums to himself, reaching up, eclipsing for just a moment the spread of the planets and suns he’s learned so well from stargazing. The motion feels familiar, in its own, strange way. He stares up through his fingers before he drops his hand into his lap. Bdubs shuts his eyes, letting out another slow sigh.

From beside him, Etho clears his throat. Bdubs startles, immediately cracking an eye at him, shifting around to pretend like he hadn’t just jumped. Etho snorts.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, that familiar smile to his voice and a crinkle to his eyes. Bdubs blinks his eyes open, furrowing his eyebrows as he gives Etho a quick once over. He crinkles his nose.

“You gonna nag me again?” he asks. Etho huffs out a laugh.

“Me?” he grins. “Always.”

Bdubs sighs again, slumping back against the cold deepslate tile. He rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, wise guy,” he grumbles. Then he pats the grass beside him. His hand comes back slightly dirty. Etho laughs under his breath as Bdubs waves his hand, trying to shake off the dirt before he ungracefully smears his palm onto his pant leg. After a moment, Etho sinks down beside him, letting out his own, tired sigh in relief.

“How ya feelin’?” Bdubs asks, shifting his body ever so to face Etho better. He glances over at him. Etho glances back. He raises his eyebrows and, in the fading light, looks less tired than normal. Bdubs for a brief moment wonders if it’s his doing.

“Mm?” Etho hums. “Pretty good, all things considered.”

Bdubs nods.

“Good,” he says. “I’m excited we’re together again, y’know.”

Etho snorts. He raises his eyebrows in question.

“And Tango?”

Bdubs makes a face. Duh. “A’course.”

Etho laughs again softly.

“Me too,” he says, all pleased like Bdubs had said something he found funny. Bdubs likes that tone of voice a lot. It means only good things out of Etho. Which usually meant good things for Bdubs, too. 

They lapse into a silence then, both comfortable and apprehensive. Etho fiddles with his hands, the skin of his fingers, picking at the nail beds in a show of his bad habit. Bdubs wants to grab his hands and force him to stop, as much as he kind of wants to tell him to just ask whatever question he’s holding himself back from, but Etho rolls his shoulders and settles back against the tile and seems to relax, so for a quiet moment, Bdubs watches his eyes flutter shut, and sees the pale eyelashes against his face in the rising moonlight. His chest seizes for a moment. Then Etho hums out:

“‘M sorry I forgot that one time,” he says, almost muffled through the mask he’s still wearing. “Bout the dragon.”

Bdubs blinks. He almost asks, albeit stupidly, what dragon. There’s a moment where his mouth opens and closes as he tries to remember what in the world Etho could be talking about. Dragon. Dragon. When had he fought the Ender Dragon recently? Not Hermitcraft, not this season at least. Later than that? Why would he be bringing it up now if it were something from this world? Unless he means. 

Ah.

Of course, this train of thought for Bdubs lasts only a second. And it’s in that second that he finally stammers out:

“Oh, what?” and clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Nah, Etho. Don’t—that was so long ago. Don’t you worry about that.”

“You’re not mad?” Etho asks, tilting his head over. His eyes open to peer at Bdubs. It feels like his pupil is consuming his iris, the way the dark brown and black of his good eye muddle together in the dark. It’s black like the night sky. His eyebrows furrow as he looks over Bdubs’ face. Bdubs snorts.

“Oh I was furious,” he finally says, tearing his eyes away from Etho’s face. Warmth crawls up the back of his neck. He stares at Etho’s unfolded hands, which have come to rest palm up on his knees. “But now? You think ol’ Bdubs carries grudges?”

He looks up at Etho again. Etho shrugs, looking away.

“Uh… yeah?”

Bdubs blanches.

“What! No—not with—” he stammers out. Etho pales even further, visibly swallowing. “Etho!”

‘What!” he squeaks out, spreading his hands, shoulders coming up to his ears. Bdubs swats at him, grumbling as he whacks fabric. 

“Not for you,” he huffs. Etho deflates a fraction—at least, his shoulders come down from the sides of his head. He tilts his head, eyebrows still raised questioningly.

“You sure?” he asks. Bdubs sighs.

“Yeah. Not anymore,” he says, folding his hands together, unfolding them, fidgeting with his fingers. For whatever reason, a prickle of nervousness stores away in his stomach, forcing him to swallow to try and push it around. He sighs, stretching out his hands. “We… we play these things differently. I know that now.”

Etho, from his peripheral, nods once.

“Oh…” he says, voice mellowing out. He sighs too. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah,” Bdubs says. He reaches out after a beat, knocking his fist into Etho’s shoulder. Etho wobbles, eyes crinkling. “I missed hanging out with you.”

“You—” Etho wheezes, voice peaking suddenly in amusement. Any higher and they’ll really risk waking Tango. “You see me every day!”

“Well!” Bdubs huffs, folding his arms. “This is different!”

Etho shakes his head. The tufts of white hair being held back by his poorly tied headband come loose all at once. He sweeps them back unsuccessfully, scrunching up his face.

“I dunno Bdubs,” he argues, squinting at him. Bdubs rolls his eyes dramatically, hunkering down over his folded arms. “Feels a bit the same, don’t’cha think?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Etho shrugs, relaxing again, leaning back against the cold stone. He finally tugs his mask down and off as he settles, turning his face from where it rests against the stone to give Bdubs a once-over. He smiles and it’s all slightly crooked teeth and sharp canines and wrinkling his nose. Bdubs’ lungs squeeze painfully. 

Maybe that’s the reason that he leans forward and grabs a fistful of Etho’s shirt. Maybe it’s the reason Etho’s hand ends up on his knee, then his thigh, then his hip as Bdubs kisses him. Maybe it’s the reason he feels Etho laugh against his mouth and kiss him again. And maybe it’s the reason that Bdubs rests his forehead against his, nose against his nose bridge, and sighs the most profound breath he has in a while. The air leaves his lungs and enters warm and humid. From this close, Bdubs can see the faint beauty marks on Etho’s cheek. He smooths his hand back up Etho’s collarbone to his shoulder, flattening out his high-neck shirt, keeping his hand under the lip of his coat, under fluff and wicking fabric.

“Let’s not do something stupid this time,” Bdubs says to the point of his nose. “Okay?”

“Like what?” Etho asks. His eyes flick up. For a moment, they’re far away, fixed on a spot far from Bdubs’ dark eyes. His expression softens like he’s remembering something far too painful. Bdubs squeezes his shoulder.

He’s never gonna get that blood off his hands, is he?

“Like stupid traps,” Bdubs finally says, forcing a smile. Etho’s eyes clear just a touch, and he pulls a face.

“I’ve never made a—” Etho pauses. Then he grins. “A stupid trap.”

Bdubs rolls his eyes. It’s in this moment that he pulls away, shaking his head as Etho giggles at him. He smothers the sound with his hands, peering over at Bdubs over his fingers. It takes everything in Bdubs not to swat at him again. His face is properly warm now.

Instead, he shuffles over and makes his home at the dip of Etho’s side. He folds his arms, huffs indignantly, and presses his cheek to his shoulder. Etho makes a small squeak. He relaxes, though, and lets Bdubs lie against him for a long moment. After that moment, however, he presses his cheek to his head and says:

“I’m not gonna let you fall asleep here.”

Bdubs grumbles.

“Fine,” he says. He lets Etho untangle himself from beside him, takes both his hands when he offers to help him stand. In the slowly building moonlight, Etho and Bdubs trudge into the small deepslate fort. Etho’s hand stays in his, warm and solid. Tango still rests soundly, sprawled out on one sleeping mat at the other side of the base, tail twitching ever so in his sleep. Bdubs sighs again as he lies down next to Etho. It takes a long time for his eyes to finally close.

At least he has him now. He doesn’t want to let him go any time soon.

[tennessoui]

it’s like baby gorl there’s no way I, the author who wrote the fic you’re commenting on and who is the intended audience for this comment, am gonna agree with you 😿🙏 some things can just stay on your chest 🙏

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

[pencilofawesomeness]

“I made her feel powerless, I knocked her down and— and she still makes me feel scared.” —Satoru, So Find One And Seize It, Chapter 5

So a consequence of rereading Chapters 4 and 5 of SFOASI from The Odyssey series by the utterly incredible HotCocoaaa ( @biscaanii ) and then listening to Hawk in the Night by Maddie Buckley soon afterward is getting immediate brainrot for the most depressingly brutal piece I could start 2024 with. It worked too well for the Gojo Clan, especially Cocoa's rendition of Satoru and his grandmother, Akemi. She's a terrible woman and she fascinates me.

Go read this series guys it's so great—

[rox-of-iu]

if no one got me i know cultivate mondays got me. can I get a wahoo-

(spoilers)

(i know we havent met the other peak lords but I just wanted to redraw some memes let me have this)

[doodlejoltik]

Guys I have a confession to make. In spite of all my PLA posting and especially Reiposting... I have not actually played PLA.

Until now!!!

Armed with my new Switch Lite I now possess infinite power and will be able to Reipost to a degree heretofore unfathomable

There he is!

Objectively the best starter Rowlet /lh

So far I have been having a blast catching 'mons, dodge-roll climbing my way up unreasonably tall places, and not doing the plot. I have been assured this is part of the experience.

I forgot to take a screenshot so I had to yoink this from someone's YouTube playthrough but darn. Kamado. Did you really have to say it like that

(Haha isn't it funny that Rei does do that and yet he's not fully accepted and trusted in the end. Haha. Maybe he didn't work hard enough...)

This line stuck out to me. On one hand it's cautionary - in context, it's meant to warn Rei that he should be careful in how he behaves around the Diamond and Pearl clans, since the Galaxy Team is in a tenuous position here in Hisui. But from another view, it sort of suggests that "we are all equally outsiders here. You belong" which is more explicitly stated in lines like this one:

And so I see this narrative that's building up of "Rei can earn a place for himself where he is trusted and accepted if he works hard enough", which is reinforced time and time again as he gets more star ranks, and takes more requests from the villagers, who gradually become friendlier towards him, at varying rates. (I've been making a point to talk to all the NPCs every time I return to Jubilife Village.)

Which I'm sure you all know already, and which I also knew, to a point, but it hits different actually seeing its gradual progression in game.

Anyway. Next episode, we fight a Noble Pokemon and I'll see if all my dodge-rolling experience to climb tall heights will translate to being good at dodge-rolling away from murderously angry super-powered Pokemon. Wish Rei luck, he's being piloted by me and my decidedly lacking gamer reflexes XDD

I'll tag all my PLA posting "// tik plays PLA"

[aimasup]

throws up my hands in mock resignation but also a hint of frustration Okay Valentino is a cool villain I guess

He's like. Genuinely unsettling. Wish the show struck a better balance with his character sometimes (like sometimes when he's onscreen I have to skip over because I feel queasy and sometimes he's so unsubtle he feels more like a prop than a guy who's going to be a Huge Deal in s2)

[deiaiko]

#22.9 Kindness

Ran woke up with far less aching than he anticipated. Though what shocked him more was that the long haired FUG was the first one to greet him.

"Oh. Hello." The FUG guy, Bam –as A.A called him– wore a soft smile, but half of his face was still hidden behind his long bangs. Ran didn't know if he wanted to respond to him or not. 

"Ran~!" Shibisu cried fake tears, "My cutie~ you made me worried!" Ran grimaced when Shibisu leaped from his seat with two hands outstretched. He was so troublesome, but at least he was good at noticing the line he shouldn't cross, by stopping himself from actually enveloping Ran in an embrace.

Ran gritted his teeth and pushed himself up to sit to get a better look at his surroundings. Seemed like there were only the three of them in the room.

"Mr. Agni said he has healed most of your injuries, and he left you here to rest until you feel better." Bam informed him unprompted. "Khun and Mr. Rak had just left to get lunch at the cafeteria, they should be back soon."

Ran ignored him. He had no intentions to be friendly with this guy. He also noticed that Shibisu was oddly quiet, observing him and Bam. And Ran felt his judging stare pricking his skin and poking his conscience.

Bam glanced at Shibisu, and Shibisu raised an eyebrow. They seemed to have a short telepathic conversation.

"Ah, sorry. I should've introduced myself first. My name's Bam, but you can also call me Viole. I'm Mr– ah, I'm Shibisu's old teammate."

Ran already knew. He had heard about Bam from hushed tales between his allies; about an irregular that took the test with A.A's team and died back on the second floor.

Despite the fact that this person named Bam was long gone, A.A's world seemed to still revolve around him. Like how he couldn't seem to let go of their team that bickered all the time, and how his goal was to take that annoying blonde girl to climb despite his unsubtle hatred toward her.

But the worst of it was how A.A would be so hard on himself to ensure every floor test went perfectly. 

And truthfully, Ran had hated this Bam ever since, for making A.A live like that.

"Are you thirsty, Ran? You haven't spoken in a bit." Shibisu pulled Ran out of his thoughts.

Ran cleared his throat at the mention. And Shibisu was right; his throat actually felt so dry that he wanted to talk even less. Too troublesome.

"Ah, right. Uhm…here." Bam picked up and offered him a glass of water, along with a pill in a small container. "Mr. Agni told us to give this to you, he said it could help relieve some pain."

Ran was skeptical about taking the pill, so he only accepted the water. He watched Bam place the container back on the table, silently glad that neither of them forced him to take it.

Bam was being really thoughtful so far. Maybe he'd consider giving Bam a chance to justify himself. To prove that he could be forgiven for hurting A.A in such a way.

"...Ran." Ran mumbled, "My name's Ran."

Bam beamed and Ran had to mentally squint from the sudden rays of sunlight, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Ran! If you need anything else, just tell me. I'll do my best to assist you."

Ah, troublesome. Ran immediately regretted his decision.

However, now he understood why A.A had been so devoted. A.A was weak to kindness, because Ran knew they both grew up without it. And as far as Ran knew, A.A had always chased after something hard to attain, one of a kind. Whether it was jewelry, weapons, authority,...even people. And Bam fit the criteria too well.

The automatic door opened and revealed A.A. Their eyes inevitably locked and A.A's disappointment was clear to Ran.

Think of the devil…Ran felt his annoyance bar rapidly rising.

"What did I tell you?" A.A navigated his way to them, not once breaking his glare. "Only consume redan when it's absolutely necessary."

Ran was taking none of it. "Hmph!" He had lots of fun with the spar, so he wouldn't say he regretted it.

A moment passed with A.A still staring daggers into him. It almost made Ran feel bad. Almost. In the end, A.A sighed and let it slide. "Suit yourself."

A.A brought three plates filled with an assortment of food. Though Ran figured that none of them were for him. Ran's stomach rumbled defiantly when the smell reached his nose.

Instead of being teased, Ran was taken aback when Bam offered him his yet untouched food. "You can have this, Mr. Ran."

Ran didn't know how to react to that, feeling a little uncomfortable. He felt like it would be wrong to refuse, but he didn't want it. He looked at A.A instead, hoping that he'd get the hint.

A.A noticed this and said, "You don't have to be nice to him, Bam."

"Hm? Why?"

Unfortunately A.A didn't say a better explanation other than, "Because that's how it is with him."

Shibisu slung his arms around Bam's neck. "What Khun meant is…Ran appreciates your thoughtfulness, but I think he would rather get his own food than take yours because he doesn't want to bother you. Right?"

Isu winked at Ran, and Ran rolled his eyes. That was not exactly true, but it was a softer way to put it. "As he said."

"Ah," Bam retracted his offering hands, "I see."

Ran wasted no time and swung his feet off the bed, glad to find that they weren't hurting as much. 

Bam had leaped from his seat as well, ready to catch Ran with his free hand if Ran didn't make it to stand. However it only made Ran much more eager to leave the room and get away from Bam.

Getting nice gestures from someone else he barely knew usually means they have ulterior motives, and he was so tired of being treated that way.

Bam might have meant well, seeing how much A.A trusted Bam. But Ran just hadn't gotten used to receiving kindness.

"Well then," Ran went for the door and it automatically opened for him. He didn't bother to look back to check if they followed him out. "I'll go and get some food."

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[glitchyvoice]

new banner just dropped

[a-whole-lot-of-things]

i love dead boy detectives to death, and hope with all my being that we can Somehow pull off getting it back (through netflix or otherwise)

but honestly if we cant? if we get stuck at where we are now forever? i honestly think ill miss the potential s2 soundtrack the most

[astrolotte]

Genuinely intrigued by the potential of Peri and Irep's dynamic but only in a platonic way so I end up not vibing with the fandom's portrayal of it 😔😔😔

(No but listen LISTEN they were kinda-almost-friends when we last saw them in FOP, yeah? Now they're enemies, with both actively fighting each other, and Irep going so far as to try and kill Peri's parents. What happened? When? What influenced it? Did they ever become friends, or did it nosedive the moment the cameras turned off? What about Sammy? How do Irep's parents factor into this? Could it ever be fixed? There's just so much we haven't seen, and romance just feels like too easy a solution to me. Let their friendship be easy to break, fragile. Let them have to work to keep the connection. Fairies and Anti-Fairies are literally made to be opposites, so what happens when two genuinely and truly become friends?)

((and yeah I guess a lot of this could factor into a romantic angle but ALAS the fandom seems to be leaning heavily into the funny toxic yaoi angle 😔 I don't mind it! By all means, please have your very harmless fun! But it ain't my jam :P Perhaps I'll have to write a oneshot myself...))

(((see tags for more rambles i guess. whoops a bitch spoke too much in there as he always does)))

[3-aem]

reading im courting you now i guess by solarbishop and its so cute i love the characterization its like warm milk for my exhausted brain

[shitpostingfromthebarricade]

Did you enjoy ShitpostingFromTheBarricade's classic fic "Recovery," featuring modern Enjolras suffering from December 2020 burn-out and reconnecting to himself and his friends?

Are you a fan of anything Eli "Candlesticks" @thecandlesticksfromlesmis has ever produced?

Do you enjoy podfics and live re-enactments of works by peers from the Les Mis community?

Then friend, do I have the panel for you.

Tune in at @barricadescon to check out a live Zoom performance of "Recovery"! Cast list below the cut.

(in order of appearance)

Narrator: @abaisse-scarabsi (he/him)

Enjolras: @thecandlesticksfromlesmis (he/him)

Courfeyrac: @grantairelibere (he/him)

Combeferre: @historianinthebasment (she/her)

Jean Prouvaire: @eldritchw1tch (they/them)

Laigle: @apocynthionic (she/they)

Feuilly: @megab (she/her)

Grantaire: @courfeyracs-swordcane (he/him)

[akemiiya]

i think a lot of the soulless clover revival fics that make them start to kill in the very first reset does not give clover (or flowey) nearly enough credit