#but I completely overlooked it while drafting

[meltedmush]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! WELCOME 2025!!

[munsonsfairy]

I have an ideaaa

how about a Paige x fem!reader wedding/proposal fic or headcanon??

the idea of her draft fit as a wedding outfit omfg 🤭

my peace 🕊️

omg i love this idea!! i did wedding headcanons if that’s okay!<3

content: fem reader & no physical description of reader or their wedding outfit

౨ৎ the night before, you and paige spend it by cuddling into each other while sitting on the balcony that overlooks the city.

“my wife, my wife, mine,” she whispers against your neck after every kiss. “not for another day, babe,” you’ve been reminding her since she proposed.

౨ৎ it takes her 20 minutes to leave your townhouse that night. lots of goodbye kisses have already happened that it took kk & ice to drag her ass out.

“bye my beautiful gorgeous wife!” paige yells out the window as ice drives away. she doesn’t get into the car until you are out of her sight.

౨ৎ instead of reading your vows in front of your wedding guests, the both of you decided to do it before the ceremony. as you walked towards paige, you could see her wavy blonde hair with her front pieces in braids (as always). she was wearing an all white suit. you could tell she was nervous and excited by how much she was fidgeting.

“paige?” when she turned around her blue eyes already had tears in them. she looked at you in awe and almost fell to her knees. “we can’t cry we both have make up on,” you fan both of your both eyes trying to hold it all in.

she laid her head on yours and looked into your eyes. for a moment it felt like it was only the two of you in that garden. “we’re finally doing it. my wife,” you see a tear fall from her eye as she leans in to kiss you.

౨ৎ now the vows!!!!!! 🥹

paige reached into her pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. you could see her shaking, so you squeezed her hand to remind her it’s just you.

she smiled at you and took a deep breath, “ever since i could remember, i was always told, “you’ll know when they’re the one,” and i never understood that. i never felt complete until i saw you. when our eyes met, i knew after 3 seconds that you were the one. i’m blessed with the pleasure to know someone like you.” she looked up at you and saw you tearing up. “bro if you cry, i’ll cry,” she said laughing. “okay okay! no more crying.”

she took another shaky breath, “to be able to love and be loved by you. you are my sunrise and sunset filled with the most beautiful colors. you’re my peace with the world is too loud. your love is my turning page. you are the strongest person i know and i admire to be my best self everyday. i never doubted our love and will always consider myself lucky to love and learn from you. these past four years have been my favorite movie. i promise to love every single detail of you for the rest of my life.”

after you said your vows, paige was walking up to kiss you until you stopped her. “not until we say i do!” she looked at you with shock but kissed your knuckles on both hands. she leaned her forehead on yours once more. “see you at the alter,” then watched as you walked back to the venue’s house.

she didn’t want to take her eyes off of you. just wanted to stand there and admire you.

౨ৎ during the dance, you reserved chick-fil-a as a surprise for paige. she ran to you and grabbed your face to kiss you all over. her and kk were fighting over who was going to be the first to be served. spoiler alert: you got served first since they were too busy bickering. when you were eating your nuggets, paige noticed you had ranch on the corner of your mouth and kissed it off of you.

౨ৎ once your reception was over and almost all of your wedding guests have left, you and paige danced one last dance. your heels were long gone and paige was very tipsy. she held you so close to her chest that you could hear her heartbeat. you felt the breeze against your skin and closed

your eyes. paige was slowly guiding you in a circle while humming the song.

she kisses your head and said, “my wife.”

tagging: @urantisocialgay because i know you’ve been asking for this (:

[tojivu]

# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.

✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy

✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.

✰ — word count ~3k LOL

nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.

even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.

you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.

you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.

you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.

'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'

one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.

'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.

she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.

the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.

you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.

it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.

it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.

just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.

you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.

──────

"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.

gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.

you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.

"what is it, mr. gojo?"

he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?

"i woke up late today."

"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"

"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."

gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.

"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."

you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.

"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."

you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.

"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."

you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.

you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.

no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.

"nothing about this is funny."

you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."

"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.

you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.

you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.

"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.

you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.

you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.

at least you were self-aware.

your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.

you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.

just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."

you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."

satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."

that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.

nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.

you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.

so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."

you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.

"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."

gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.

──────

the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.

you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.

you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"

you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."

it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.

"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."

he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.

──────

gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.

you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.

"miss y/n, you should try some."

you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.

"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."

"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."

you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."

you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.

you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.

he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.

you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.

"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.

gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.

he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.

"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."

you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.

"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.

he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."

his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.

before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.

satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.

you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.

you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.

a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.

it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.

you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.

gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.

it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?

you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.

gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.

there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.

he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"

of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.

"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."

gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."

"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.

"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.

you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."

"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."

"it's still office hours. it's only polite."

gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.

"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."

you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.

"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.

"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."

you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.

"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."

what was the harm in discovering more?

230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum

[tamberrio]

Do you guys see my vision do you

Nerdy thoughts about characters and the world in the au under the cut (Slight spoilers for plot of both BSD and Reverse:1999 I guess?)

ok ok so:

Dazai is the Time Keeper and works at the St. Pavlov Foundation. The ADA would basically be the small branch of the Foundation that Vertin oversees in the actual story. To that end, I can snag a couple character rolls for the BSD characters.

Dazai is Vertin, obviously. He was just as rebellious as a kid as she was, and made friends with the outside world (Oda) only to watch them die to the storm. So now the Foundation makes him go to the different time periods and collect data on why he and his suitcase are immune. Since I know Vertin is like 16 in the game, I thought I should age everyone down just slightly to fit that teenagers-doing-dangerous-things-that-should-be-left-to-adults vibe, so now he is 18 when he finds Atsushi, who is 14.

Kunikida would probably play a Sonnetto role, being the studious type who tries to follow all the rules and make sure the Time Keeper stays on track.

Yosano would probably be best suited as a Doctor in the Foundation but is saved strictly for the ADA’s branch. Probably a Medicine Pocket type of character? I actually have a draft of her where I take heavy inspiration from X’s butterfly scarf thing because thematically I think it’s perfect. I don’t know if she would exactly fit Mesmer Jr.’s role, since it includes a betrayal against Vertin along with Dubious medical practices within her family. Although the dubious medical practices thing could fit well, I don’t think the betrayal really suits her character in that regard.

Ranpo wouldn’t be an arcanist, but we have actual human characters in the story who are playable (like Ezra is human I believe), so he could use his deduction skills that way. They’d probably try to keep him away from the front lines when possible, so as not to risk him if the storm appears.

Thematically, Atsushi would be Regulus, since she’s the first to be found by Vertin in the actual story. Otherwise, Atsushi would be completely different in terms of backstory. It’s hard to tell in these sketches, but I tried to give him a coat similar to Regulus but not recognizable as such. He’d be a Beast Aflatus, obviously. Arcanists are very much discriminated against in the actual story, so that would fit really well with him. I figured Atsushi could be immune to the storm too, since his tiger has the power to cut through abilities, similar to how Dazai can nullify them.

Ango would be Madam Z, because of his strenuous relationship with the Time Keeper due to past betrayals, and his want to keep the Time Keeper out of harms way. Mori could be his direct supervisor for a time, and Ango can be complicit in the “trap” made for Dazai to get him to be more agreeable. He’d help reduce the influence the Foundation has on the Time Keeper’s decisions. Fukuzawa could be good for this role of “overlooking the team” as well.

As for the Foundation itself, I think it would be a mix of the government and the port mafia, while having Manus Vindictae be the Decay of Angels/Rats (Fyodor would make a really good villain in that regard). Although it’s hard to picture some of the port mafia members working at the Foundation, I can still pick and choose who goes where.

Every other character probably wouldn’t have a direct comparison, but that’s what I have so far. This is probably WAY easier to follow if you know the plot of Reverse: 1999 but I’ll come up with a more comprehensive doc later.

[tossawary]

Someone responded, "Howl would do chores for Sophie! He loves her so much!" to that Prince Turniphead house-boyfriend post about the "Howl's Moving Castle" movie where I said that Howl wouldn't reliably help around the house. And... no. No, I said RELIABLY, that's a really important word here, but also no.

Nothing about his home setup (the mess of the kitchen in the beginning, the RAINBOW BATHROOM, his cluttered bedroom) suggests that he's in the habit of picking up after himself. I don't think he's purposefully a slob, but I do think he's too distractible and thoughtless to do the required regular cleaning. I think he's a "I'll put this down here for now and deal with it later *proceeds to walk around this object every day for the next three years while doing more interesting / immediate things*" person at best. Being in love does not suddenly change all your habits as a person or your personal interests! I think Howl would definitely try (important word here) to do better for Sophie, but I think it would take a lot of work and he's kind of lazy about these things!

I do think he cooks. Movie Howl IS shown cooking with Calcifer and I think he and his fire demon could have fun with that task, very cute, and leave a mountain of dishes behind them in the process.

Also, (trying to limit referencing the books for those who haven't read them, but I can't resist here) Book Sophie is... kind of controlling and loves to complain? And can also do magic herself? When I said that Howl can't be trusted to RELIABLY do chores, it's partly because I don't think he'd be doing them to 1) Sophie's exacting standards and 2) in the EXACT way that Sophie wants it done. I think Sophie would in many cases decide that it's easier just to train Howl to better stay out of her way, honestly.

Especially because HOWL IS A WIZARD!!! You can't fucking trust those assholes with a simple chore! It doesn't occupy their brains enough and they're ALWAYS going to think, "I bet I could invent a spell to do this for me," and that's how you get floating dishes or animated broomsticks or a fucking water spirit in your house. It's the hubris! Can't smack it out of wizards with a stick!

Howl swallowed a star and made a deal with a fire demon! He built a giant walking castle that was holding together JUST using magic (it completely fell apart at the end of the movie) and wandered freely around the country! He was pretending to be two different people to run businesses and then abandoned the buildings when the government caught up to him! I'm pretty sure he used a magic spell to SQUAT in Sophie's family's former hat shop! He impersonated the king! He dodged the draft literally afterwards in an airship battle! He nearly irreversibly turned himself into a bird monster and fought bombing airships by HIMSELF - and there's no way that Sophie wasn't confusedly picking black feathers off the floor. He summoned the spirits of darkness and started turning into ooze because his hair dye came out the wrong color!

Howl would TRY for Sophie, I believe that. I just also think that he'd rather use magic to completely renovate the entire house than actually scrub floors. I think he would invent an incredibly ugly magical vacuum cleaner for her and Sophie would love it so much that she would choose to overlook the fact that it tries to eat the carpet and curtains and the dog sometimes. I think that if Book Sophie was told she could melt wizards with a bucket of soapy water with a little bit of lemon juice (like the Enchanted Forest Chronicles), she COULD DO IT by choosing to believe it, and Howl hides from her and that bucket because he loves her but she's TERRIFYING.

If Sophie's sister Lettie was visiting and Sophie was panicking because she hadn't had the time to dust on top of the guest room wardrobe... whatever the magical equivalent of shoving all of your stuff into a closet at the last minute to make the place LOOK clean is, THAT's how Howl would help.

[saphic-with-t]

I saw people talking about Jawbone being a bad school counselor for how he treated the situation with Kipperlilly, and while I agree that from what we heard, it was definitely not good, I’d like to use this to point something out.

This single situation highlights two major things I think we forget or overlook when looking at the more serious, intense stuff within the storytelling genre of dnd/actual-play. Both boil down to things not being perfect.

First, this feels like the situation where we should remember that Brennan isn’t a school counselor, and never has been, or gotten training. He doesn’t know the proper procedures for stuff.

Second, this is improvised. It’s off the cuff and can’t be changed. If it was a traditional style of writing like a book or script, maybe an editor would have picked up on the inaccuracies or problems of the character and brought it up to Brennan for revisions in the next draft. But that can’t happen, and it’s pretty much set in stone as soon as it’s put out.

There is also the possibility (though I don’t personally believe this) that Brennan was intentional with Jawbone handling the situation poorly.

Jawbone’s mistake adds to and reinforces his character. I have met with school counselors before and they are usually far from perfect. In fact, Jawbone is still definitely one of the better examples of a school counselor in fiction and irl. We know that a lot of students (and staff) do really enjoy him. He was able to diagnose Adaine’s problem and has helped a few of the bad kids quite a lot and gives good advice. But he’s still new. He doesn’t have official education on child psychology and is pretty much completely self taught. It makes sense that at the very least he would let some kids slip through the cracks or make some bad calls. Especially since Kipperlilly’s situation and Jawbone’s secondary relationship to them is a unique thing that he would definitely not be prepared for.

Also, you can just add your head cannons into the mix. I saw one saying they believed Jawbone recommended to KlCk’s parents that they find her a therapist outside of the school and they declined it, but since it wouldn’t be part of her file, Riz and the rest wouldn’t see or know about it. Things like that are the whole point of head-cannons, to help explain stuff that goes unexplained.

Anyways, if you read this far thank you, I just needed to rant about it because people were getting really nasty about it (especially on Twitter) and I wanted to drop my two cents into the void.

[heartbeatbookclub]

I think probably the biggest thing that contributes to the thought that Monika's love isn't some great falsehood to me is actually how she talks about it after being deleted.

Like, okay, i understand everyone saying that she isn't interested in you, because she's actually not interested in you specifically. I've said this before; Monika knows virtually nothing about you. She only knows that you're real. Despite this, she says she is utterly in love with you, while making it clear that her entire existence absent you is completely meaningless to her, because she knows it isn't real. It's fairly easy to make the leap here and I definitely agree that Monika is more in love with the idea of you than with you specifically.

I however disagree with the notion that this love is somehow false.

I've talked about this a little bit in the past, and I have a few drafts somewhere going deeper into my thoughts on it, but I didn't like how they turned out, so I'm just gonna start fresh.

I think if you only look at Monika's actions leading up into Act 3 and what she says then, it's a little questionable how true her feelings are. She talks a lot and spends a lot of time trying to endear herself to the player while forcing them to choose her. And a lot of that talk is about how powerful her sense of nihilism is about the world around her, except you.

It's not hard to make the leap that the reason why she's so invested in you specifically is because you represent something real, where she is trapped somewhere fake. Even if she can't really escape, she's content with this being as close as she'll get.

She's sitting here, directly talking to someone she believes is real, trusting that they're there, and listening to her.

You could take us continuing to click through the text and potentially hitting the skip button as confirmation that we are indeed still here, but the important thing is she can't see us. She doesn't know anything about us, or what it really looks like for us, but she loves us anyway, because we are real.

That's it, isn't it? At that point she doesn't even love us. It's a front; it's a lie to try and get some sense of interaction with reality. She doesn't actually love us; she loves the idea of escape we present.

There's one major thing that suggests to me that it's more complicated than that.

After we delete her, her initial response is fear. Anger. Betrayal. After everything she sacrificed, all she dedicated to us, we delete her. We've killed her; only small vestiges of her influence remain. How cruel. How unjust.

We are truly sickening, aren't we?

...But she still loves us.

I think this is something people overlook about the situation here, and I really think it's indicative of something not a lot of people realize.

Monika has no reason to lie here. There's no reason to maintain any sort of facade; Monika is giving up. There is no escape from her prison. She is trapped and always will be. And you? Despite everything, despite all that she's done to be with you, all the love she's given?

You deleted her. You killed her. She opened her heart to you, and you rejected her.

She has nothing left. She's dying. You, her one reason for living, for doing any of this, rejected her. She fucked everything up. She regrets everything she did, realizing that she's ruined everything, and probably driven you to hate her as well. Regardless of if that's true, it's what she believes.

Monika is at the end of her rope. Yet still, even when the chips are down, even when she's lost all hope of escape, when she's given up completely, when she regrets everything, believes you hate her, and hates herself...

She still loves you.

I don't think Monika's feelings are in any way a front for something else. I think she truly does believe, more than anything, that she loves you, truly, from the bottom of her heart. I think it's better to say, rather than that she doesn't love you, she only loves what you represent, because she doesn't know anything about you, that she does love you, despite not knowing anything about you, because what she does know is enough to her. She knows (or at least believes) that you're here, that you've been here, and that you're still here, despite everything. You've spent this much time with her. You must truly be kind, and patient, and all these other things she's built up in this image of you in her head.

Despite everything. Despite your rejection of her.

She still loves you.

And it's that love that guides her on into introspection, forces her to come to terms with the fact that she's been acting selfishly this entire time. It's her love for you that makes her realize how horrible she's been, and leads to her regretting everything.

Because if you deleted her after all she sacrificed, there's only one explanation. You don't love her the same. In fact, you must hate her for what she's done. She's ruined everything as badly as she possibly could.

She still loves you, but she messed things up so badly that you hate her.

"How could I do that to someone I love...?"

She restores everyone on the assumption that things will work out if she's just gone.

Because she wants to give you what you want.

Because she still loves you.

Dan Salvato responded to this question in the r/DDLC AMA on Reddit, and when I first read that response it seemed like a huge...non-answer. And when you actually look at it, within the context of the question, I'm right, it doesn't really answer the heart of what the question's about, and it's always troubled me because of the way he worded it.

It takes the notion that Monika loves us for granted, and instead of actually addressing the question, provides a foundation for Monika's truly selfless expression of love.

When I look at this, I'm suddenly confronted by my own thoughts of Monika as a fictional character, rather than as AI. Rather than accepting the conceit of +'s world, that Monika is truly an artificial intelligence in a simulated reality, looking at Monika as a fictional character with awareness of something beyond the fictional. That she is, in a sense, on a dimension below.

Yet despite that, she tries to reach behind the curtain, to reach out and touch your hand separated by the screen.

And regardless of any motivation, she loves you. She does, wholeheartedly, and she wants nothing but the best for you. She wants to give you all of the love she has. "Only someone who has lost all hope in themselves is the one who is condemning Monika to her own sad, unfulfilled fantasy. If you believe Monika loves you, then you've found it in you to love yourself a little bit, and that's what she would want more than anything."

It doesn't really answer the question, in my opinion. But I'm not sure it's supposed to.

Really, it's tough to make heads or tails of what that actually means in the context of this question. I often find myself wondering if I'm thinking too hard about things as presented in the game, and diving off into wild speculation into things which Salvato didn't intend.

I think the most important element to all of this, which people so frequently look past, is that Monika's own perspective is heavily limited. I have some other thoughts on this that I won't get into here, but just because we know something's true or we think something about her true underlying motivations doesn't mean she knows it.

A lot of what she says and does may be consequences of denial, but that doesn't mean conscious denial necessarily. I think something a lot of people don't realize is that Monika isn't actually some omnipotent or all-seeing goddess. There are things she doesn't understand, and things she can't control. I talk often about how we have no real communication with Monika outside of the limited interface of the game, but I'm not sure even she knows how limited that interface is, given how she places some blame onto our shoulders for how things turned out prior to Act 3, among other things. She has the capacity to be surprised by things happening in game, given that she was surprised by how we were left with Yuri's corpse for an entire weekend, commenting that she didn't realize the script had broken that badly.

The way she manipulates the others seems very half-hearted and inefficient, and she's frustrated by how tough it is to make things turn out how she wants.

I mean, despite believing herself to have very deep knowledge and control over how things are managed in her reality, she doesn't realize at all that she's done this exact same song and dance over and over across millions of people playing Doki Doki Literature Club. Even within the conceit of +, over each reset loop, the same things happen, and she has no idea. She is still subject to the whims of being a character in this game; she is not somehow divorced from it due to her awareness.

Her life is a tightly wound coil of duplicate decisions leading to the same outcomes each time, and she has no idea. And regardless of your decisions, things turn out the same.

She's the same as any of the girls, operating with their own code forcing them to do certain things. Each of them might realize something is wrong, or different; some cracks show through Monika's overt manipulation of elements of their personality, but they still act as though it comes from within, because that's how it feels, and why would you assume differently?

Somebody built them. Their existence is determined by a base of hard code, that although their consciousness may resist it, ultimately defines what their consciousness even is.

And Monika is no different.

It's implied pretty heavily that the four of them are on the same level, within the conceit of the game being artificial intelligence responding to stimuli. As Sayori, Natsuki, and Yuri are all tweaked in different elements, they change in personality. Their actions change, in ways that both Monika and the player don't necessarily expect.

Sayori hangs herself, Natsuki is able to write a note about her concerns for Yuri, and Yuri stabs herself multiple times, leaving you staring at a rotting corpse all weekend. When Sayori becomes Club President, she immediately sets to keep you for herself. Or she loses her mind. Whatever.

My point is, they're all on the same level, just with only one having awareness of the real nature of their reality.

So...that all being said.

Monika's love isn't a lie, not even one she's telling herself. But it doesn't seem to make sense, does it?

So the real question, I guess, isn't whether it's true or false.

It's whether she developed it naturally, or if it was implanted.

Does that even matter in the context of fiction?

Why did the chicken cross the road?

All these questions and more...uh, I don't know. Seek medical attention if brainrot lasts longer than 4 hours. If you read to the bottom of this post, you're cute. Do the monkey with me!

[taliquest]

I think it's funny how Shin and Shuu are frequently the most overlooked characters insofar as individuals and a ship in both JP and (broadly western but primarily) NA fandom because these two:

Have the single best developed relationship of anyone in the entire show.

When we start off, and for much of the first half of the show, they're frequently at odds with Shin siding more with Seiji and Shuu partnering up with Touma - with whom he was originally longtime friends with in earlier drafts, up to and including arriving in Shinjuku together.

However, as the show continues, there are hints of a budding friendship, particularly the disastrous battle against Arago where Shin is the first to fall, Shuu being the one to immediately react and strike in vengeance after Shin and Touma get nommed.

And then of course, as we move into the second half of the show, we get this moment:

Cementing that yes indeed, these two are Best Pals For Life, with a bit of mutual chirping involved.

While unfortunately they both spend much of the next dozen-odd episodes sidelined and with little chance to interact outside of being strung up in a gargoyle together, after the team fully reunites, we're treated to them back to their old tricks, with teasing:

Followed immediately by a Bro Moment.

Cut to post series with the first OVA, Gaiden, at Ryo's birthday party:

(Absolutely nothing suggestive going on here)

And of course, OVA 2, Kikoutei Densetsu gives us the beautiful bonding moment that is Shin teaching Shuu how to surf.

Of course this being KD, things go downhill quickly, though things are patched up soon enough...

Only to fall apart by Message, where the distance that's grown between the Troopers is best exemplified by this shot:

The best of friends, arriving together, after not having seen each other for months, in complete, solemn silence. And unfortunately this is the last they really get together before returning for the finale.

However, I hope that this tangent has been educational, and if you haven't watched YST yet:

Do it for them.

[ashe-smash]

cw: implied gochi x reader, (afab) reader who menstruates, period sex, no mention of birth control or protection, tiny mention of breeding kink kinda ?

A/N: Idk what this is, it’s just been sitting in my drafts for ages and I need it to not be rotting there anymore. It’s not unedited but it’s been sitting around for a while so there may be overlooked mistakes.

Thinking about how Saiyans probably aren’t phased by a little blood during sex when it’s your time of the month.

Specifically thinking about Goku.

You’re curled up in bed waiting for the pain reliever to kick in. Goku comes in, particularly riled up about something- probably coming off the heels of a training session or fight.

Goku’s libido is just as insatiable as his appetite. He’s got all this energy buzzing around inside him and this opportunity is far too perfect to resist to expel it. “Chi said you weren’t feeling well.” He says as he slips into the bed with you.

“Cramps.” You whine. You should protest about him being sweaty but he's all warm as he snuggles up to you. You really can’t bring yourself to complain about it but in your lethargic state, you really can’t bring yourself too.

You’d change the sheets and take a shower after a nap.

His hands are big and warm and feel nice when he kneads your hips and tummy. But you do whine a little when he starts getting a little handsier. Goku wasn’t exactly what you’d call subtle, especially in situations like this.

“We can’t- I’m on my period.“ You squirm, but wriggling out of his hold is a lost cause. Honestly if you weren’t as hazy, you’d have realized he probably already knew that- saiyans have a very sharp sense of smell.

“And?” Goku presses the heel of his palm into your soft stomach.

That makes you pause. Goku isn’t an idiot, but sometimes- unless it involves fighting, some things just slip his mind.

“M bleeding.” You remind him.

Goku shrugs around you. “You really think a little blood bothers me?” Your face wrinkles. Periods are completely normal bodily functions but they’re still… gross. His nose meets your cheek, nudging it. “It’ll make you feel better won’t it?”

You’re eventually bullied onto your front with a pillow under your hips.

(We’ll skip having to remove menstrual products, can you imagine having to explain what a diva cup is to him?)

He certainly wouldn’t mind eating you out either, you’re glad you can’t see him cause it’d be just too embarrassing. Now, I firmly believe Goku eats pussy as eagerly as he eats anything. Blood isn’t going to change that, you’ve seen him eat raw meat before.

He doesn’t stop when you cum either. It’s too much and you have to beg him to move on, not that he needs much convincing to slot himself into you.

You’re so sensitive and the slide of his cock against your walls is so much more. You just have to lay there and take it, but that’s okay because you don’t have that much energy to do so. The pressure of his weight on your hips eases the ache there.

Goku is always a little unintentionally rough. He gets overeager and forgets himself. But you can tell he’s trying to be gentle.

By the time both of you are satisfied and Goku flops down next to you so you can see him again, he looks feral. Blood is smeared on his cheeks, his hands and up his forearms. His pelvis looks like a massacre and based on the stickiness on your thighs, you’d hazard a guess that you look similar.

A cheeky grin cracks over his face before he rolls over closer to you, forcing you into a kiss. You’re tired, too tired to continue to fight him. “You’re so nasty.” You whine.

“Feel better now, sweetie?” Goku pulls your sticky sweaty body to his. He kneads at your hip and tummy best he can with one hand, the other wrapped around you to keep you close.

“Mhm… better but gross…. And tired. We need a bath and then a nap?”

He stretches a little. “Gimme a minute.” You pout at him. It’s not a matter of his stamina, he’s just being a bit lazy. Wants to have you close for a little longer, even if you’re absolutely filthy- and not in the good way. Sticky.

ChiChi would surely scold her husband for staining the bedding, even if technically it was you that caused it. She knows it was only a byproduct of her husband’s meddling, and would never blame you for it. Send you off for a hot bath while she makes him strip the bed for washing.

Goku joins you for round two of course, followed by a snack and the nap after. You won’t admit it aloud, for fear it’ll only encourage him more but you do feel better.

He’ll also tote you around cause you don’t feel good but he will try to steal off your snacks. And lay on you. And joke (you think it’s a joke, he does not) that he can help make your period go away for a while if you let him.

Extra: I think Saiyans know when you’re going to get your period. Just instinctually- they’re all about emotions and the moon and stuff ?

Divider by me (@/ashesmashe)

[kaythefloppa]

Everyone seems to be talking about the Simba's Pride scripts, production notes, early drafts, and concept art-work that were recently unearthed from eBay and all the headcanon/fanfic/family-tree material that it gives, but how come no one, FRIGGIN NO ONE talks about the deleted scene from The Lion King 1½ where Timon and Pumbaa meet and talk to Scar.

I'm not even kidding:

In the original plotline for The Lion King 3, Timon and Pumbaa (for whatever reason) were supposed to be looking for Mufasa, the Lion King. They would've come across the Elephant Graveyard and, mistaking Scar for Mufasa, come across Scar himself along with his hyena army after they have completed the Be Prepared musical number. Timon remarks that Scar is not Mufasa, to which Scar says "Must I forever be reminded of this," a nod to the original when the hyenas mistake Scar for Mufasa. The hyenas, wanting 'revenge' chase Timon and Pumbaa throughout the Graveyard before losing them.

And no, this isn't a recent discovery, (well sorta). The person storyboard artist, Amber Hollinger, (who worked on several direct-to-video sequels such as Belle's Magical World, Lilo and Stich 2, and Fox and the Hound 2) had this uploaded to her site in 2012, over 12 years ago. Since then it was added to the wiki in the concept gallery. I may have only recently found out about their source, but I knew this deleted scene existed for close to a decade. I can't be the only one who regularly thinks about this, right?

Personally, while I think the idea of Scar and Timon exchanging lines is sheer hilarity in of itself (tangent: Would they have gotten Irons back for this one-off line or would they have had Jim Cummings record some speaking lines for Scar like they did in Simba's Pride?), I can understand why it got cut, since it probably would screech the film to a halt if they had this one cameo from Scar and the hyenas drag out on and on when the movie is supposed to be an interquel with the main story and characters being a backdrop (at least during the second act that coincides with TLK's first act). To add to that, it also raises up a legitimate plot-hole in Scar knowing that there were witnesses to his conspiracy, witnesses who seemingly knew about he was about to kill, and did nothing, and in a movie filled with possibly deliberate inconsistencies, this in particular would be too tall to overlook.

But overall, it's pretty cool, and I think in a fandom that fascinates over deleted material, this is pretty underrated (then again, the 3rd movie in of itself is entirely underrated).

[nondelphic]

thank you so much for 700 followers!! this is so insane to me and i'm so happy people are enjoying my posts.

i know most of you are here for my ""relatable writing posts"" but i also know some of you are interested in who i am, and specifically my writing, so to celebrate hitting 700 followers i thought i'd give you a taste of my writing !! i know i was supposed to tag some ppl but i forgot to write your names down and i can't remember who wanted to be tagged and who didn't 😭😭😭

these are all drafts and i def don't consider myself a great writer, but i think i'm okay at storytelling. regardless, enjoy it for what it is!

this excerpt is from my first completed draft of "the midnight chase." for context, marley is aroace.

-

They sat in silence for a while before Marley shifted towards Lucas. She bit her lip, uncertain of how honest to be. “Lucas?”

He looked at her. “Yeah?”

“You know the party last month? Remember how Elvis kissed me?”

Lucas nodded. Marley averted her gaze, focusing on a path beyond the pond that led to a cliff overlooking the ocean.

“Do you think it’s possible to want that sort of closeness, without wanting it all?” Marley could feel Lucas gaze on her.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Marley sighed and let her gaze drop to her feet. Her shoelaces had come undone.

“I mean, I don’t like Elvis like that, but when he kissed me, I felt… warm inside. Like, it’s not something I crave, but it felt nice regardless.”

Lucas remained silent for a moment. Marley looked up to see his gaze thoughtful as he processed her words. The gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird were the only sounds filling the silence between them. Marley could feel her heartbeat quicken, wondering if she had said too much, or if Lucas might misunderstand her.

Finally, Lucas sighed softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I get what you’re saying, Marley. I think… it’s natural to want closeness, to feel connected to someone, even if it’s not necessarily about romance. It’s human, you know? We all crave that warmth, that feeling of being wanted or cared for, even if it’s just for a moment.”

Marley nodded, relieved that he understood, but still, there was something else she needed to express. She glanced between Lucas and her shoelaces, her senses searching for any sign of judgement or discomfort, but all she saw was patience and a gentle curiosity.

“I guess it just made me question something that’s been nagging me for a long time,” Marley continued, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Like, what if I don’t ever want that kind of connection with someone, but I still want to feel close to people? Is that okay?”

Lucas’s expression softened even more, and he reached out, gently placing a hand on Marley’s shoulder. “Marley, there’s no right or wrong way to feel about these things. You’re allowed to want whatever it is you want—or don’t want. It doesn’t make you any less valid or any less… you.”

Marley let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Thanks, Lucas. I guess I just needed to hear that.”

and here's another excerpt that shows a bit more of the story...... kinda.

-

As Lucas excused himself to go to the bathroom, Marley looked for Chio. Instead, she ran into Silas.

“Hey,” he said, holding his arm out. “Let’s dance.”

Initially, Marley wanted to say no, but something in Silas’ expression made her do the opposite. She took his arm and he led her to a more secluded part of the dance floor. Marley noticed people staring at them as they walked, not unsurprisingly, considering her and Silas' history.

Silas put a cautious hand on Marley’s back as the song transitioned to a sentimental and slow piano arrangement. 

“You know the map I gave you?” Silas asked. Marley smiled. Yes, the one she and her friends had managed to figure out completely. “Did you solve it?” 

Something in Silas’ expression told Marley he already knew the answer. Did he want help? Had he solved it?

“Yes,” Marley said. Silas nodded, and a smile crept up on his face.

“Me too. Which means… the winner will be determined by who gets to the middle first.”

Marley nodded. “You’re doing it alone?” 

“Yes. I work best alone. I know you’re doing it with your friends.” Something in Marley churned at his answer. It was a typical Silas answer, a simple phrase etched with an edge of passive aggressiveness. Marley had solved it with the help of her friends. He had solved it alone, using only his brains.

“Teamwork is an underappreciated tool,” Marley said, finding herself distancing herself slightly from Silas’ hold on her as they danced.

“Of course. It’s important to be able to work with others. At the end of the day, though, you'll be alone.”

Marley looked into Silas’s eyes, trying to decipher his expression. There was something behind his words, a hint of loneliness perhaps, or maybe a sense of inevitability. She decided to keep the conversation light, not wanting to spoil the mood of the evening.

“Maybe so, but having friends by your side can make a huge difference,” Marley replied, her tone gentle but firm.

Silas nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just... sometimes it feels like relying on others is a weakness.”

Marley shook her head. “It’s not a weakness, Silas. It’s a strength. Knowing when to ask for help, and knowing you can trust those around you, that’s powerful.”

They continued to dance in silence for a few moments, the slow melody wrapping around them. Marley felt a strange mix of empathy and rivalry towards Silas. She understood his drive and his determination, but she also saw the value in the support system she had with her friends.

As the song came to an end, Silas offered her a small smile. “Thank you for the dance, Marley. And for the perspective.”

Marley returned the smile. “Anytime, Silas. Good luck with the challenge.”

“Good luck to you too,” Silas replied, giving her a polite nod before walking away.

Marley watched him go, feeling a mixture of emotions. She was grateful for her friends and the support they provided, but she also understood the weight Silas carried. She hoped that one day he would realize the value of camaraderie.

Lucas returned from the bathroom, a curious look on his face. “Did I miss something?”

Marley laughed, shaking off the remnants of her conversation with Silas. “Just a dance with Silas. Nothing major.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Shall we continue dancing?”

“Absolutely,” Marley said, feeling lighter and more determined than ever.

They returned to the dance floor, joining their friends in the celebration. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, dancing, and shared moments that Marley knew she would treasure for a long time.

As the night wound down, Marley found herself sitting with Chio and Maya on a bench outside the hall, the cool air in the stone-cladden corridor a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the dance floor.

Maya pulled out her phone from under her dress. Marley watched her. “Where did you keep that?”

“Oh, I have all my dressed sewn to include hidden pockets. I hate not being able to carry stuff.”

Chio rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ah, yes, custom sewn gowns with pockets, what a normal and humble thing!”

“It’s not my fault that default dresses don’t come with pockets already,” Maya countered.

“Calling normal dresses ‘default dresses’ is crazy,” Marley snorted. She looked at Chio’s dress. It was a beautifully simple dress with long, wide arms and a simple fabric belt around the waist, in a bright orange colour, contrasting Chio’s blue hair in a seamlessly effortless way.

“To be fair, my dress is also customised,” Chio sighed, smoothing out her skirt, before smirking. “I took it in two centimetres at the waist.”

The three girls burst out into laughter. Maya looked at her phone.

“What time is it?” Chio asked.

“10:45.”

“We should get ready.” Marley said. The Midnight Chase started at midnight, just as the name suggested. And she was not running down the maze in a long dress. Well, she could, she knew multiple people participating who were going directly from the dance to the maze. But they weren’t in it to win it. Marley and her friends were.

Hopefully, Silas would find that working alone is actually the greatest weakness.

Marley had a gnawing feeling that her stance would be proven right.

HELP i'm so scared y'all are gonna think my writing is trash because LET'S BE FR THIS IS JUST FROM MY FIRST DRAFT!!!! i haven't yet edited these scenes so they're kinda cringe but i wanted to show my main project. i do have different writing styles depending on genre though, and i'm tempted to show some of my comedy writing. it's pretty hilarious, if i may say so myself.

anyway, thank you again for 700 followers. thank you so much. each like, reblog, reply, message, or ask brings me so much happiness. you have no clue how much your interest warms my heart (or maybe you do because you know how social media manipulates our brains and their reward system)

[sweetestpopcorn]

hi sweetestpopcorn! i hope this ask finds you in good health and a happy september! (also i hope my ask isn’t too much of inconvience over all your work!)

i have a question relating to the dance of dragons and the blacks & the greens: while it is already established that the reason for the greens rising up and the civil war is because of rhaenyra’s gender (because there are drafts where rhaenyra does not have any bastard children to weaken her claim and still half of westeros rose up), do you think there were any nobles in westeros that were rising up against rhaenyra specifically for the reason that rhaenyra had bastards? and if so, would that mean that by your AU they would more likely be switched to black from green because of rhaenyra’s marriage to daemon? do you think that there were any nobles that were won to rhaenyra’s side because of their love for daemon?

personally i think that there may be a few families that would switch from green to black with your au but i’d love your opinion! thank you 🩷🩷🩷

Hi there!

Love your icon image <3

Hum... I get your question and there's much merit to it. I do think that the question and doubt around the "Velaryon" princes should make a lot of people not support Rhaenyra. After all, throughout the asoiaf books - all of them - we are continuously shown and told how much people despised bastards. Even in Fire and Blood and regarding the "Velaryon" princes this is highlighted for instance here:

This passage actually also highlights the issue the illegitimacy of her sons would pose for Rhaenyra herself, as she would be accused of High Treason and bear minimum would be liable for being disinherited completely but the consequences could go as far as death.

Nonetheless, as I and others have previously highlighted, even in the Green Council the illegitimacy of her sons is mentioned - by Alicent and Ser Incel Cole - but given very little attention. As for the lords of Westeros to the best of our knowledge, this was not a relevant factor.

I think it might be easily explained by a combination of factors. Most lords in Westeros had never seen the "Velaryon" princes and/or their purported father Ser Laenor + they knew that Rhaenyra had Arryn blood and that Rhaenys - Ser Laenor's mother - had Baratheon blood. Further, and most relevant of all, all three of them were dragonriders, which was taken as evidence - by the author of the book himself - that they were in fact legitimate. Of course that the logical thing is that they didn't need a father with Targaryen blood since Rhaenyra was a dragonrider and the youngest one of her house, but I think that's another evidence in the books of how much the role of women was overlooked, translation: If a child does X then it comes from their father 🤡

This all being said, I still think that this issue which was in fact Rhaenyra's biggest handicap should have played a much bigger role overall besides being used to portrait her as a wh0re and ruin her reputation, since it went well, well beyond that. However, it really wasn't.

Now we can play the "just because it's not said doesn't mean it didn't happen" game, but once again, we could also play that game with anything, including Aegon's 🥎🥎 We could say he could have anywhere from one to three and actually it would be impossible to disprove this statement. That is however, a game I don't enjoy playing because it's opening the door to just about everything, and then to the maesters, evil, evil, maesters changing history and lying.

So in sum, no, in my AU not having illegitimate children doesn't really change Rhaenyra's support all that much though her supporters are very, very pleased about who her heir is and the fact that his father was a Targaryen, which has highlighted by Lord Beesbury's arguments in Fire&Blood did matter - i.e., amount of Targaryen blood. It does change and a lot how people reading feel about her claim though, and over the years I had many people that consider themselves Neutral tell me that in the context of my fanfiction they are Team Black no questions asked.

In fact, strange as it is, I think this was an addition of George's not as much to the story but for his readers, to make them feel more ambiguous about the Dance.

Is this a big limitation in the way the Dance is written? Yes it is, and it does highlight how George is significantly stronger when he plays the gardener - main asoiaf books - instead of architect - Fire and Blood.

Cheers!

[fgfluidity]

mirror | manor (chapter 11)

Summary: After the events of Mirror | Void, a newly-christened Dark has two goals: take revenge on Mark, and, hopefully…

Find the DA.

Pairings: Damien/Dark x DA; Actor x DA (Implied, could be read as gen)

Warnings: none

Tagged: @opprose @volbeast @statictay @otterlyinluv @buc-eebarnes @flerpdederp @mirrorslament @hapikiou (if anyone else would like to be tagged hmu!)

i'm sorry this took almost three years to come out-

find it on ao3 | donate to my kofi

Dark knows the game.

Of course he does— he read the script.

He just expected them to see through it.

Then again... they haven’t seen through anything Mark’s done. They just don’t remember.

He can’t decide if that’s a blessing or a curse.

He sticks to the shadows as they approach, entirely too darling in what amounts to a burglar’s costume, as they wriggle their way inside.

Mark is his own brand of buffoon, and the ‘guards’ he hired match it to the letter, not a drop serious or truly threatening.

(“Sorry I didn’t message you first,” he says, brushing out bits of glass from his hair. “I tried to jam the cell signal and, um… it’s just broken.”)

Imbecile.

Even the dog is there, playing a role. How droll.

Even if she is a very good girl.

All throughout this, he watches for the guard’s radios, for a television screen, for— for anything that he might use to sway the DA, catch their attention without Mark noticing.

If he can just separate them—

The thing is, though, Mark is either ridiculously prepared for his planning, or is completely thoughtless about small, realistic details; throughout the entire museum, no guard has a radio, no wall has a screen.

Not ones that work, anyway— not a connection to anything remotely electromagnetic. Props at best. It’s the least technologically-advanced modern building Dark has been in since…

Well, since he left that manor, but that hardly counts.

The point stands that he’s unable to do much of anything but watch as the DA rolls their eyes and smiles at Mark’s antics, creeps quietly along while the man makes a fool of himself, face set and focused.

He’s seen that look. Pre-trial look. All business.

And they called him too serious all that time ago.

So fondly…

At any rate, their supposed treasure is both easy to get to and utterly unremarkable. A wooden case, carved but hardly special wood, the gem plastic even from his vantage point. A prop, like everything else.

And yet…

Mark lifts the box, and—

This is the end of the script. A successful heist, hightailing it out before they get caught, a seemingly-sincere thanks for help.

But there’s something. Like a little nudge, something like how he feels using the void, how the Earth seems to shift when the Host speaks creation.

The alarm trips.

Mark gives them a choice. Sneak out, or face the guards.

Perhaps... perhaps he overlooked. Perhaps he was given a working script, not the final draft.

Perhaps it’s another of Mark’s machinations.

There was no choice. Why is there a choice?

Why do they get a choice?

It doesn’t matter, really, because the DA picks exactly as he expected they would.

“We have to sneak out, it’s too dangerous, otherwise,” they say, just barely audible over the blaring alarm.

Mark’s face crumbles into a pout. “You’re no fun,” he whines— like a toddler; Dark half expects him to start stomping his feet— but he dutifully uncovers the sewer entrance, grumbling all the way.

The DA just watches, arms crossed. Petty.

They didn’t used to be so petty, but Mark deserves it, if anyone.

Dark very well understands that the entire thing is engineered, a massive staged undertaking to fool the DA and entertain an audience, unseen to his eyes but present all the same.

It doesn’t stop the trip through the sewers any less harrowing, doesn’t prevent him from using his unique position to draw attention away from the DA if ever they come a hair too close to getting caught.

It might be fake, but…

He doesn’t put it past Mark to introduce some very real danger. He’s a method actor, and he’d want his players to follow accordingly for maximum effect.

Dramatic ass.

They follow dutifully behind the entire way through the dark, though— and he notes it with a point of pride, one he chalks up to just how put out Mark seems— with a good amount of non-verbal sass. They cross their arms, roll their eyes, and stubbornly march right along behind Mark.

Not that Mark doesn’t try to get rid of them— oh, he tries to shake them like gum stuck to his shoe, and it’s a thrill to see him huff and grumble when they simply shake their head. He pouts— at several points! So very childish.

Then—

Hm. Unsurprising that the creator of this convoluted mess would whip up some way to surely remove them; if there’s one possible thing they’d listen to above anything else, it’s a worksite safety sign.

Not for lack of effort, though. “I… I really don’t know if we should split up, Mark,” they say, casting an uneasy glance back at the tunnel they just left. “I know it says only one, but if something happens—“

“Nothing’s going to happen! Nothing bad has happened even once!” His bright grin only gets a— astoundingly dry— look in return. It’s nearly impressive that he barrels on, anyway. “It’s for safety, buddy! You’re all about safety— and! We’re synchronized! In five minutes you just follow me over. Or I follow you, whichever.”

Mark gives them a once over, all while grinning, and if Dark wasn’t looking— wasn’t incensed at the familiarity— he wouldn’t have noticed, wouldn’t have cared. Alas.

It’s too… possessive. Too pleased.

He doesn’t need Damien in his head to stoke his rage, it seems, not anymore. The only thing that stops him is what Mark says next.

“You have a choice, sunflower.”

A choice. There it is again, more choices, as if giving them the power to change any of this. Giving them a say.

So they don’t feel trapped.

Aren’t they, though? If Mark wrote everything, created everything, what kind of choice is it?

However…

They glance back at the shadowy tunnel again, frowning, worrying at the sleeves of their top in a too-familiar pattern. If they turn back, they’ll be away from him. How far apart can they both get in five minutes?

How far apart do they need to be for him to intervene?

This is his chance. It may well be the only one he’ll get, and the margin of error is far too slim for his liking— he must get this right. He must say the right thing— and pray they don’t hate or fear him.

Thankfully, time goes a little off-kilter in the Void, or else he’d have to make a very quick plan.

He’ll have to ease them in. See what they could possibly remember from that night, prod what needs prodding. It’s an easy enough parlor trick to conjure up a memory these days.

After that… what could he say?

Damien— he— was never short for words in his past life. As mayor— as councilman, as law student, as debate captain, as his father’s son— he simply had to be good with them, and he was.

Not quite so smoothly charismatic as Mark, not as bombastic and warm as Wil, but— well, he didn’t make mayor through his familial connections, whatever certain parts of his constituency may have believed. He delivered his speeches, his debates, with calm strength, something personable but solid.

Hell, he—

He used to write them for fun. The person— people, really— standing right outside this pocket of Void once teased him.

How are you writing a paper now? Finals are over! Come on, live a little!

Even I don’t want to spend all summer in a library. Won’t you come with me? There are new flowers in the arboretum!

The memory comes unbidden, and throws him off-balance; thankfully, he doesn’t fall out of his incorporeal state or ruin any of his planning.

Such a memory… but how? That’s more of Damien’s—

He hasn’t heard him. Not since that agonizing split when he entered their dream.

Mayhaps they didn’t split.

Mayhaps—

“Well… if you’re sure, Mark,” they sigh, hardly thrilled at the idea. “But it has to be five minutes. If you disappear on me—“

“Relax! It’ll be okay, you’ll see me. Sheesh, you’re so serious.” Mark huffs— then straightens himself. Smiles, even as they turn away, towards Dark. “Yes, alright! You go down that tunnel, I’ll go down this tunnel. If you see anything, and I mean anything, you just turn that sweet little tuchus around and—“

He’s had about enough of that. With hardly more than a thought, he whisks Mark away elsewhere, wherever elsewhere may be, and rolls out his Hall of Memories.

And prays.

They used to pride themself on being unflappable, before, and he can see shades of it, now: their face remains the same, alert but not startled as they take in the paintings, the dust swirling in the beam of their flashlight.

He knew the truth of that, though, and it, too, remains; you need not look at their face for their feelings, but their hands.

Though one holds the flashlight, all ten fingers are in motion— tapping the length of the flashlight, curling and uncurling in their sleeve, the belt loop, the zippers and buttons of their bag. Moving for comfort, perhaps— certainly no expression of joy, as the rest of them is ramrod-straight, stiff with each step.

He longs— longs, what is happening to him— to say something to ease the anxiety, raise the darkness, but he can’t. This is no matter he can explain with soft, comforting words and a pot of tea. His powers aren’t of light at all.

They can, though, reach an electromagnetic signal, and now that they’re alone, he pushes through his thoughts.

Finally, you’re away from him. Aren’t you tired of it?

What?

He’s running you ragged. Don’t you feel like you’re running in circles?

That’s not what he said— not quite, anyway.

They won’t tell you anything. No one seems to question it.

Why can’t he change it?

I know you’re in there. But I thought you’d see through it.

The final painting, of the monster himself, grinning like a fool. It begins to crumble before them both— they step back, fingers tight around both phone and flashlight— and Dark gets a split second of pure dread before—

Before—

My villain. I wrote everything. Even you.

It’s not painful. It’s not— it’s not even close to the searing split of the dreamworld, nothing to the pain in his stolen body, nuts compared to his shattered leg almost a century ago. It doesn’t hurt at all.

He almost wishes it did.

“Same snake, different skin,” he muses, and something inside him quails at the sight of fear— truly, rare fear— in their eyes when they turn to take him in. “Always spinning his yarns, his webs, his lies.”

He means to say it. He means to say he’s nothing but a monster in human skin, that they’re being dragged one way or another at his whims— he doesn’t mean to sound so… angry. So—

Villainous.

He screams, though it doesn’t come out— not of this body. Instead, there’s the discomfort of a fragment, juddering, lashing void in every direction. He only keeps enough sense to keep it away from them.

Without him— without him!— his body paces, a smile too similar to Mark’s on his face. “Perhaps we’ve met a hundred times already, and you simply don’t remember it. Perhaps you’re tired of me repeating myself over and over and over and over again!”

He’s seen them a hundred times, but have they met? Has he said anything to them, his desperate wish for them to remember and leave simply that, a wish?

No. This is Mark’s doing, but he’s far from the only one with power. Dark pushes past the discomfort, past the fragments that shatter out of him, and tries to touch it. Tries to see what, exactly, controls him.

It’s a web.

Not unlike a spider’s, really, glimmering threads of words in several different directions, coalescing into bright points of light wherever they meet.

Ah, the choices. Planned for, then— prolonging the make-believe.

He sees an island man. He sees a brilliant scientist. He sees a pirate, an adventurer, a prisoner. He sees their end a dozen times, more, always coming back to the start.

He sees himself— but his point, his thread, is loose.

Not so in control now, are you, Mark?

They must know. They have to know.

With what little wriggle room he has, he reaches out— and changes a couple letters. One at each point. Nothing shifts, nothing breaks, but something is different— hopefully, different enough for his clever attorney to find.

They’re the sharpest he’s ever known. If anyone could, it’s them.

He settles back into his body, still speaking without him— without him!— and pacing before a desk. It doesn’t feel so wrong with his newfound confidence… in fact—

“You want answers.” He smiles to himself, happy to have control again, and for the hell of it, picks up the glass of wine— seemingly, so kindly provided for by the writer. “Well, games were always his forte.”

He’s not sure of the vintage, or even sure of the varietal, given the monochrome nature of his Void, but he takes a sip, anyway.

He tries hard not to gag, but can’t hide his wince. For all his budget, Mark hardly splurged on something decent, it seems.

Suppose that’s the loss of his wine cellar at work.

“But allow me this one moment of self indulgence.”

He sets the wine down. Neither of them will be partaking of it.

“Excuse me—“ 

He stops, holding the box— the conduit in this little foray into pretend— and looks at them from atop the desk. They’re— smiling a little. Not big, but it’s theirs, and if his heart still beat— “Yes?”

“Why’d you pick that wine if you didn’t like it?”

He wants to laugh. Oh, he wants to laugh at that, because in the face of— quite frankly— something frightening and beyond their control, they’re teasing it. He loves them.

He loves them.

“I didn’t,” he admits, truthfully. There’s something so warm in his chest, something he can’t prevent from showing on his face, so fond. “Sometimes we take what we’re given, for better or for worse. This game, for instance. This box.

“So much trouble, all for something so small.” He looks to them curiously, smile fading. “Do you want to know what’s inside this box?

“I didn’t imagine we’d have to be in sewers to get it,” they add dryly. “After all this, I definitely want to know, and it has to be something worth it, or else.”

He’d laugh at the thought, them tearing into Mark for dragging them over hill and dale, but he’s seen what lies ahead. They’ll have time to do it, and the nudging at his body indicates he’s rather short of time himself. “Well, I know how much you like a good game, so throughout your… adventures, I’ve hidden codes. Several codes. Find them all, and you’ll get your truth.”

They don’t look especially pleased at that, but the light comes into their eyes despite the slump of their shoulders— the light that kept them up all night with an encyclopedia or three, classes next morning be damned. “More games. Why am I not surprised?”

They eye him for a few long seconds, brow furrowed, even as the Void rumbles and sparks around them both. It’s too familiar, as if they’re reading him down to his core. “You aren’t Mark, are you? Not some character. But… you’re so familiar. Who… who are you?”

He could give them his name. It might spark something for them, kickstart whatever process they need to regain their memory of what happened. He wouldn’t even care if they screamed at him for all he put them through.

The Void, though, shakes and cracks, and he shakes his head with a slight frown and a mountain of regret. He has a modicum of control, still, but not fully. Not right now. “That’s all I’m going to give you.”

They open their mouth, but the Void winks them away, gone to their next run.

All he can do is sit and watch from here.

[unohanadaydreams]

I read a fanfic once that talked about how overlooked Yuzu is. Like everybody talks about Karin's potential but nobody ever talks about Yuzu - she's only eleven years old but she does everything Masaki did for the family (or tries to). She's does the chores, she's the family cook, she's the one who tries to keep everyone afloat on top of school as well. We see Karin has some friends she plays soccer with but Yuzu doesn't seem to have much of a social life. Idk it makes me sad for her.

I think she doesn't have many friends. When Yuzu "steals" Kon and treats him like a doll, we see that she has a pretty solid collection of various dolls and treats them all with an amount of care & infuses them with an amount of personality that indicates she spends a lot of time with them. Not to mention the amount of time keeping a household (and helping in the clinic) takes up is massive.

She is overly invested in what everyone in the house--especially Ichigo--is doing like a mother figure would be (like saying he's different since entering highschool/officially being a teen??) & its played as a brothercon thing, but it just smacks of Yuzu feeling like this is the only way she can connect with him and desperately trying to bring her family back to being close again, if only she could just pull them into orbit and be half of what her mother was. Which is such a concerning way to go about it, but she's a child and has no idea how impossible it is.

The only time I can think of where she has anything resembling friends is when she & Karin are part of the Karakura Superheroes which is a throw away thing. I'd like to think she does stay friends with them. And Jinta having a crush on her is a recurring little thing, so it makes me hopeful that she does hang out with him and Ururu from time to time.

Like it's very obviously a choice she is making to stay at home and care for her family, but it's one from a misguided place borne from seeing what her mother's death has done to her family. And Isshin just lets it happen, mostly because he is at his core a Shinigami from Soul Society where no one deals with their trauma, they just keep it pushing and hope a battle will bring them enough catharsis to over come it for a while.

Compound that with the fact that Yuzu canonically feels left out because she can't really see spirits like her brother or sister & there's this firm distance between them. The gravity is keeping them at arms length, no matter how hard she tries.

If anyone would really benefit from getting to know the Shiba family, I think it would be Yuzu. Kuukaku's household is kept by men while she leisurely drinks and goes about her business and makes sure she knows the intimate details of everyone elses'. Yuzu would be sitting on her hands trying to keep from picking up a broom, at first, but then get amped up on feeling so close to everyone's actions.

I think Yuzu discovering a purpose outside of what she currently has is essential, even if she doesn't gain much in the way of friends to accomplish that.

On the upside, after the initial bumps in the road that would come from her moving in, I think Orihime would be a huge boon for her. And Orihime would definitely encourage her to transfer her energy into school clubs and such. Sewing club sisters would be made a reality. They are creating bentos never before seen by mankind that crush Instagram with each one posted. They are shoving a bone back into a leg with complete calm together like they've been working alongside each other for years. The Yuzu & Karin going to college fund is alive and building.

Orihime would definitely be the driving force of Yuzu stepping away from holding the ghost of her mother over her shoulders, imo.

Also side tangent, speaking of Yuzu in fics:

I actually have this draft where Mayuri sends a bogus resort offer in the mail & Yuzu falls for it, resulting in Yuzu & Karin taking a train to the Soul Society where Mayuri tries to figure out if they have the potential to be like their brother under the guise of "spa treatments" that I did not finish in time for a Bleach prompt event on here. And one of my favorite parts in there is that Yuzu is so experienced with maintaining a home that she realizes one of the walls is not like the others and wanders out of the charade. Great with sewing, not squeamish since she helps in the clinic so often, and very level headed since she has to balance so many concerns. Huge people management skills. Time management God.

Akon is playing 4d chess trying to find a way to keep her around as she spends her vacation helping him discover just how much potential Karin has to be like their brother in power while helping juggle his other duties.

Yuzu would own in R&D.

[lady-griffin]

do you think jinx is more introverted or extroverted?

Thank you for your question anon.

I’m sorry it took me forever to answer it. I have this huge backlog of asks and my original plan was to answer them in the order that I received them (seemed fair); but that just made me procrastinate even more and then it became this whole anxiety and executive dysfunction thing, so yeah…

I’m really am sorry for the ridiculously long wait.

And while, you’ve probably given up on me ever answering this question, I do hope you see this.

-

This is a really good question.

It made me think a lot about what my answer was and why I thought that. To the point that I ended up diving into a rabbit hole of the introvert and extrovert labels and the ideas behind them; and WHO we define as an introvert or extrovert and HOW and WHY we do so.

And the more I dove, the more I realized that these labels are often viewed as strict absolutes rather than nuanced spectrums. Even the additional classifications of omnivert and ambivert seem to both reinforce this strict binary, but also at the same time, acknowledge the spectrum.

Even I’m guilty of this.

For example, in the first drafts for my answer, I completely overlooked the fact that you asked if I thought Jinx “is more” introverted or extroverted, not which one she was.

Here’s my short answer –

If, we’re talking about League Jinx, there is a very strong argument for her being more extroverted; but if we’re talking about Arcane Jinx (who I’ll be talking about) - she's definitely far more introverted.

Now, I have a much longer answer that I’m working on, that goes into why I think this, but I’m still trying to parse it down some more, because it's very, very, very long.

Again, I’m so sorry for the long wait anon. And to all the others who asked me great Arcane questions; I am working on answering your asks, I promise – it’s just going to take me time (more time).

I’m doing the best I can and that’s all I can expect of myself.

[lyledebeast]

Some Bonus Thoughts on Dehumanization

In a recent panel where Jason Isaacs discusses the resonance his villains have with audiences, he attributes Tavington's to the way he dehumanizes his enemies in The Patriot. Obviously, I think he resonates for more reasons than just that (and he's always welcome at my Thanksgiving table, Jason!), but it's true. Tavington makes no distinction between Patriot fighting men and the civilians who support them and the wives and children who are emotionally important to them. If Tavington believes targeting them will aid his chances of victory, he considers them fair game. The problem with framing this as the film's anti-dehumanization stance is that it overlooks how relentlessly the film dehumanizes the British.

The script attempts to draw attention away from this in a couple of ways. One is the speech Martin gives forbidding his men from killing British soldiers who are wounded or surrendering while practically standing on the bodies of ones whose deaths he did nothing to prevent. When John Billings says, "They're redcoats. They've earned it," this is clearly framed as The Wrong Idea. However, the very next encounter with redcoats sees Martin and his men donning red coats that may well have been taken from these very bodies to trick genuine redcoats into letting them board a supply ship, which they then blow up near a bank full of Loyalist civilians. This scene is played for comic relief.

In a later scene, Martin righteously asserts that he is glad his conduct distinguishes him from that of "gentlemen" officers who target civilians and that he and his men will continue to target those officers as long as that continues. Not only does this contradict what we see when Martin and his men inflict the greatest brutality on the least culpable soldiers, but it overlooks a confession Martin himself has made just a couple of scenes prior. At Fort Wilderness, he and his men tortured their French and Cherokee enemies to death and sent their bodies to their families in pieces, an act that contributed to the Cherokees breaking their treaty with the French. It's ironic that Martin is decrying the use of brutal tactics in war when he wrote the manual himself.

Martin's little speeches remind me of a student I had a couple of semesters ago who completed a research project full of bias. After I pointed out these instances of bias on the rough draft, they submitted a final one in which none of those statements had been revised, but they had added a statement declaring the argument to be unbiased. The difference in these situations is that, in The Patriot's case, the audience often buys it. It's hard to raise the issue of Martin's brutality without someone saying, "But at least he doesn't kill women and children like Tavington!" This misses the point of dehumanization.

On the surface, it is true that Martin does not harm British or even Loyalist women and children. At the same time, the only ones who ever occupy near proximity to him are in attendance at Cornwallis's ball. They are spared from being maimed or killed by debris from the exploding ship less by Martin's consideration than the magic of filmmaking. Let's give more weight to Martin's actual treatment of British soldiers within his reach than to his hypothetical treatment of British-supporting civilians who are well beyond it. In a scenario where Martin is more likely to have encountered opposing-side civilians, they are mysteriously absent from his account. The only civilians who appear in his Fort Wilderness narrative are the British victims he and his men bury. This discrepancy is a little less mystifying when we consider that Tavington never verbally acknowledges murdering women and children either.

No one wants to be seen as a baby-killer, but military powers throughout history have taken part in the killing of babies and other civilians. To refuse acknowledgement of civilians in enemy populations--and there are always civilians--is propaganda. It is itself a feature of dehumanization. If Martin is so willing to mistake a fleeing soldier for a side of beef, it seems wildly generous to assume he wouldn't see a British child as an enemy given access to one. I'm not trying to criticize Isaacs here or suggest that he is not aware of this. After all, there's a big difference between saying "The Patriot is less historically accurate than Harry Potter" and saying "The Patriot is American Nationalist propaganda." The first is funny and suitable for the tone of his talk; the second is Fighting Words. It's a balancing act he manages very well.