#cook(heal)ing

[bitchimasnake-sss]

"something been bothering you?" ft. v.sanji!

ft. sanji x fem!reader

set-up: you're pms-ing and sanji knows how to be the perfect boyfriend. sanji headcanons to soothe ur delusional soul bby

warnings: none! very wholesome lol

- jesus, lord, my god, creator of the universe, this man is who you've been dreaming of - the perfect gentleman ever - i don't think at the start he knew any more about this all than luffy but it took only one explanation from your side and he pretty much got it - by "pretty much got it", i mean he did pester you endlessly for a few hours asking questions like "so... wait... you can pee with something in?" - if he didn't look so genuine while asking, you would have almost smacked him for being a disgusting pervert - this man is out here being overprotective thru and thru. "no yn wouldn't help you out, chopper. she's healing." "don'T CHASE LUFFY AROUND THE DECK YN!!!" "zoro i will fight you if you even look at yn-san right now." "not if i fight you first, shit cook." (they both just need a reason to fight tbh) - again, when i say overprotective i mean it. he's constantly worrying, "are you okay?" "do you want something to eat?" "are you sure you're okay?" - it had been one of those days, i mean yeah ofcourse you appreciate his attention but he has been asking you every 5 minutes and it's getting slightly frustrating "yn, are you completely sure you're ok-?" "yes, sanji, im okay" you sigh, tired "you look like something's been bothering you" "yeah, you." - you said it without thinking and immediately regretted it because his face fell so fast and he is immediately apologizing for overstepping his boundaries - oml now you feel bad "i would be in the kitchen then if you need me" he whispers and turns around, walking towards the kitchen "sanji, no, wait" - you hugged him from behind, burying your face against his tailored suit, "im so so so sorry" "don't be" "are you mad at me now?" tears pool at the edge of your eyes and you breath hard against the familiar fabric "of course not, mon chéri" he wraps his hands over yours, "how can i be mad at you?" "are you sure?" "don't cry, my love" he turns around, lifts your head up and gives you a lingering kiss on your forehead, "why would i lie to you?" - after this, he is more mindful about how much he frets over you (it's still a lot but hey, he's trying) - he always comforts you, sharing with you the secret pints of ice-cream he has saved and buys you chocolate whenever he can - cuddles, back massages, head massages, whatever you want, just ask him once and he'd rip the world apart to get it to you - you're his girl, ofcourse he'd do anything and everything for you even if it means he has to give you back rubs all night long - aaaaaah official sanji-simp

luffy's part <3 zoro's part <3

[dearharriet]

About Time | Chapter 2

james potter x reader time travel au | 2.5K words | contents

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04:00 — 4 FEBRUARY

Rounding the corner down the back stairs, James came to the kitchen. It was all a deep, thick violet, blending with the world outside. That was a color that the sun wouldn’t touch for another four hours, if that.

He crept into the room, bare toes on cold terracotta tile, and got the electric kettle going. A tiny red dot rose against the dark expanse of cook-ware as the old thing jumped to life. James leaned back, slumping against the counter and retrieving his phone.

The kitchen gained new illumination as he pried it apart, jostling the center button to wake it. He’d done this song and dance every hour of every day since new years—even the ones he did twice—so it was second nature to press the handful of buttons that led to your contact.

The text exchange stared up at him the same way it always did, and he felt his frustration with himself bubble like the kicking kettle.

1 January

Me 14:14

| hello, this is james! (from new years) :)

Y/N! 15:17

| hi! :)

Me 15:20

| hiya. i was wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime? this weekend, maybe?

Y/N! 15:35

| oh, that sounds so lovely, believe me!! but I actually live in london :/ i was only visiting for the holiday.

Of course she lives in London, he thought, she works with Marlene.

James never responded.

The thing about James was, he could go back and retry anything he failed at—which left a lot of room to do just that, and he was accidentally making the most of it.

The other thing about James was, he rarely knew when to quit. A month of no contact couldn’t be good, but a part of him wanted to see if he could make it work the first time. Every retry felt like a crawl through hell, having to do everything all over again, having to remember the way things were—the way things could’ve been forever.

No, he wanted to believe he could make something good without turning back. He’d done alright so far. It was just proving to be very hard because of you.

When the kettle was something around halfway done, James swung the phone closed, plunged back into darkness. He went to the press and took down a big mug with an odd decal over the front of it, and then looked to fish a tea bag out of the next cabinet. His hand felt around blindly, and he stubbornly persisted instead of seeking help from the house lights.

“What the bloody hell is goin’ on in here?”

In quick succession, James swung around and the overhead lights flashed on, and then his head whacked the cabinet door.

“Oh—fuck,” he swore, hand shooting up to cradle the throbbing area. The kettle was nearing the end of its duty, roaring as loud as the blood in James’ ears. Somehow too, the lights carried a sound of their own, one that you’d only ever hear when everything else is blissfully silent.

Something began thumping, and James peeked out of a watery eye to watch a middle aged man hobble over to the fridge. He was wearing a matching pajama set, blue and white striped and too soft looking for his very immediate brashness.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man ignored James’ very feeble inquiry and opened the freezer, coming up with a cold compress. When he turned James’ way, the boy had to school his initial reaction.

Layered over the strange man’s face were deep-cut scars, spider-webbing across his features indiscriminately. His right eye was a shocking blue, and the corresponding eyelid was healed wide open, giving it quite a mad look. James wondered how he slept.

With the same thump thump thump-ing from before, the man approached James, and James looked down to discover a rickety prosthetic leg on one side of his gait. Then, his eyes were back on the scars, his jaw held firmly between thick calloused fingers.

“That’s the last time you’ll ogle at my leg, boy,” the man said firmly, a measured type of coarseness entering his voice. “You’ve seen it now, no need to worry about it any longer. Understand?”

James blinked, still groggy and disoriented, sleep waiting at the edges of his eyes to be wiped away.

“Can I know who you are? Or, why you’re in my house, perhaps?”

A grating laugh escaped the man’s twisted lips, chased by a wide, toothy smile that didn’t match it. Then he forced the compress in his free hand over James’ tender forehead, and a maniacal gleam in his big eye finally caught the light.

“Oh, ow!”

“The name is Moody,” James’ torturer finally revealed, disregarding the pained whines the boy was making. “Alastor Moody. That’s M-O-O—”

“Oh my god, please shut up,” James groaned rudely, feeling a headache come on. Alastor seemed to take kindly by it anyways, or as kindly as he seemed capable of. He snatched one of James’ hands to replace his over the compress and stomped away. James wondered how he’d missed the sound before, when Moody was elsewhere in the house.

Stealing the big mug off the counter and a second one out of the press, Moody set about concocting some tea for the both of them.

“Why are you here,” James pushed again, falling from the wrap-around counter to the butcher’s block island and folding over it.

Moody, pouring a steaming cupful of tea, glanced over his shoulder with a grunt.

“Thought I’m s’posed to shut up,” he replied, a small jest barely recognizable in the grit of it. James almost laughed, thinking it was something one of his friends might say.

“Touché,” he allowed, too tired to justify his earlier words.

Moody slid the piping mug under his nose, holding onto the handle to say, “I’m yer father’s student. Or, I used to be, at least.”

James took the tea gratefully, dropping a big sugar cube into it as his body fell into a tall bar stool. He glanced at the scarred man, who was settling in beside him and sighing at the pressure coming off his legs.

“You’re a businessman?”

The sharp gritty chortle returned, far too loud for the early hour.

“Fuck no, I’m not,” Alastor laughed, “I’m a sad playwrite in London. I took his class on a requirement.”

At that, James perked up.

“In London, really?”

Moody slurped his tea noisily, grunted, and then grabbed two sugars and stirred them into his cup with one meaty finger. After confirming the taste again, he replied, “Yes, really. And don’t believe what those townie twits say about it. London is a miserable barrel of oil I’d like to set on fire.”

James would’ve liked to agree with that, actually, except that he was the victim of a one track mind, and his mind had eyes on you.

Coincidentally, you were in London.

“So why not move away?” James hunkered further over the counter, shrugging in question. “What’s there for you?”

Alastor sighed long-sufferingly, the way someone sighs when they’ve fallen into a pit that they dug.

“A goddamn pipe dream, that’s what.”

“Seems the right place for that,” James said agreeably, pushing up his glasses to appear smarter, somehow.

Moody shifted to look at him.

“What about you, eh?” Alastor sat forward, peering at James oblong with his gaping eye. “I suppose you’ll sit around this cushy place until your old man keels over, won’t ya? Marry some other high-society lass, play out the whole family runaround…maybe pop down to the city for a few years, but not for any big plan, really. Certainly not because you need to.”

He shook his head then, grumbling and taking to his tea. James jutted his head back, slightly affronted, but mostly confused by the jarring flip in Alastor’s mood.

“I’m sure I could, if I had nothing else in mind,” James agreed, his mind focused hard on the one future he was sure of. “Thing is though, I’ve got a pipe dream of my own, sir. A girl I met.”

Exhaling through flared hairy nostrils, Moody glanced at James again, dubious.

“A girl, you say?” James nods. “Yes, well, I suppose that’s what takes all the good ones. Some girl they met once.”

“Thrice,” James corrected. Alastor shuffled his thinning hair about on his head, grunting in question. “I met her three times.”

Moody just tipped back the rest of his tea and wiped the straggling drops from his chin.

Twisting his lips, James persisted.

“This girl y’see, she lives in the city. And I’ve asked to take her out, quite obtusely, without knowing, and now I think I’ll just have to move to her because—”

A big fat hand came down on the counter, rattling James out of his rant.

“Get t’yer point boy.”

Swallowing, James finally asked, “Can I live with you?”

Alastor gave him a long look and then stood, dumping his mug into the big basin by the window. On his slow march out, he turned, casting a sneer over his shoulder that prefaced his following answer.

“Unless that girl is willing to give you a million chances, you’ve already lost her. That’s just the way women are.”

+

04:00 — 17 MARCH

It took four trills for you to realize the song in your dream was a ringtone, and that it was a real pressing matter in the waking world.

One hazy glance at the clock on your night stand told you it was far too early for a phone call, and a quick check on your throat came up dry and unpleasant, not ideal for talking.

You sat up, blinking blearily at the name scrolling across the notification window on your phone, and convinced yourself you were still fast asleep.

‘James :)’ shimmered loud and proud in the pixelated slot of space, perplexing your delirious brain beyond measure. You played with the possibility of going back to sleep, but your curiosity got the better of you.

Opening your phone, you pressed the green answer button and held it to your ear.

“Hello,” you croaked out, more of a question than a greeting.

The other side of the line seemed to lag for a second, like maybe there was no one there, and then James spoke.

“Hel—hi.”

Even though he was only on the phone, hearing his voice made you sit up a little straighter, tamping your bedhead down with a flat palm.

“James?”

He sucked in a breath, and the way it cracked through the line made it sound like a cigarette pull.

“Yeah, um. Yeah. I’m sorry, I really didn’t expect you to answer. You sound so tired, I feel awful.”

“No, don’t be, it’s—” You caught yourself before you could placate him, because no amount of insisting it wasn’t early would change the hands on the clock, “—it’s fine, honestly. My boss is Irish, so I’ve got the day off.”

There was a pause and some shuffling, and then James said, “oh hell, it’s the seventeenth, yeah. I forgot.”

“What?” you exclaimed. “How could you? Everything’s been green for weeks now.”

James laughed, the sound muffled like it was coming from another room.

“I know, I’m sure, I’ve just been too busy to notice. I’m uh, I’m actually moving tomorrow. Or today, I guess.”

“Oh yeah?” You bit your lip, smiling a touch and daring to ponder, “Where?”

Another long pause.

“The city,” James replied, and you thought you could hear him smiling, too. “London.”

Picking at your comforter, you felt your lips ebb and flow, uncertain whether to be happy or sad. You really liked James, perhaps even as more than a friend that you’d kissed once on New Years. He was sweet, and attentive, and he seemed to really like you; Texted you right away, unlike most guys you’d been with.

And here he was calling you, striking up a conversation in the early hours of the morning.

“That’s great,” you said, dredging up all of the joy in your chest to saturate your words with. “Where in?”

He seemed hesitant, thinking about it for a second. “Islington, I think? I’ve only ever been up two or three times, so I’m not really sure.”

You nodded, charmed to silence just by the way he spoke, by the number of things you’d rather have asked him—about his life, about that handful of trips to the big city. You were so involved in the thought that you forgot he couldn’t see you.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes! Yes, sorry, I was nodding.” You laughed a little to lighten the tension. “Um, Islington is great.”

“Really?” James asked. “You’ve been?”

“Well, no.” You laughed some more, and James joined you. “But I live in Shoreditch, actually, so we’ll be really close.”

You hoped that didn’t come off too flirty, and then you hoped that it did, which made you feel terribly guilty. If being on the phone with James was dangerous, you certainly couldn’t be around him in person again.

Eyes closing, you cleared your throat.

“Um, James?”

The boy on the other line hummed in response, and then said, “What?”

“Is there a reason you called?”

It felt rude to ask, but you thought the early hour might cover for you. If you wanted to crawl back under your covers and sleep Saint Patty’s Day away, could he really blame you?

“Oh!” said James, and again your heart thumped hard and cruel in your throat, damming any words inside. “Yes, I’m sorry. I meant to ask you if you were free at all next week? For that coffee I mentioned after New Years.”

Fuzz overtakes the line for the next few seconds as your head falls into your lap. In part, you blame yourself, for being so naive as to think he’d call for anything else. The other part falls on you for different reasons, namely, being on the phone at all with someone you had undeniable feelings for.

For not turning him away in the first place, even though you knew his feelings were just as secure.

“Um,” you started, fighting the frog in your throat, “I’m really sorry James, but I’m actually seeing someone right now. I don’t think…”

You stopped there, because anything that came after would veer immediately into a confession that would hurt you both, and then some.

James was eerily quiet, so much so that you checked your phone to ensure he hadn’t hung up. Then, finally, he breathed out an, “Oh.”

It felt more like a punch to the gut.

For some reason, your face burned with acute embarrassment. Something about admitting to James that you were with someone else felt shameful, like some odd betrayal. Thankfully, he didn’t encourage the feeling.

“Well I hope he’s an alright guy,” James said fairly, and you told him he was. After yet another bout of silence, James just said, “good.”

And then the line clicked.

thank you for reading! xx | masterlist

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[lenawin4]

I'm aware this is a Very late Little Women ask but if they still live in the back of your mind, when it comes to having kids who'd be more excited about it at the END? We can all guess Do Il would be miffed about it in the beginning, but once he's had a taste of it...things could change. How many kids will they have?😆

aww I love this question!

In-joo's done most of the parenting for her sisters anyways, so she'll be a natural at Mom-ing. Even during pregnancy, she'll be thinking about all the award shows and report cards and paintings and stories etc the kid will have. She'll be emotional about going to everything her parents didn't go to.

Do-il will absolutely be a nervous wreck about it because of his daddy issues. He'll think of every possible scenario where he screws up so badly that the kid will hate him.

But once he holds his daughter for the first time (I don't make the rules, their first child will be a daughter), he'll vow not to screw up at all. He'll be usual self and turn that anxiety into perfectionism.

As time goes on and he learns and heals a little bit more, he'll be even more excited than In-joo - because he never got to have any of the regular school things that she did. No parent-teacher conferences, no school science tournaments or debate teams or musicals or band or theatre. So everything that his daughter will go through will be new to him too, like he's taking her first steps with her.

Maybe they'll have one daughter and one son. Maybe another one cooking.

But you know who'll be most excited? Do-il's parents. They'll spoil their grandkids so much, trying to make up for lost time.

Thanks for asking! I haven't thought of these two in a while and it was nice to dream about what could have been during that finale...

[yaoqings-foxian-healer]

(Intro post)

“It’s nice to meet you! I’m Jiaoqiu, a military healer of the Xianzhou Yaoqing. Recently, I’ve been using this platform as a means of engaging with people from all over, so feel free to ask questions or chat with me.”

~~~~~

Info

Essentially, this is canon Jiaoqiu, and those RP-ing can clarify if they want to RP with the pre- or post-2.5 version of Jiaoqiu.

He follows the path of Nihility and is Fire type. He lives on the Xianzhou Yaoqing, and is a military healer as well as General Feixiao’s advisor.

For those who don't play HSR/don't know Jiaoqiu’s personality, he's a kind person who is self-sacrificial to a rather unhealthy degree and cares a lot about those he’s close to. He's pretty intelligent in general and good at healing through cooking. He's kinda bad at caring for himself. He also likes cooking :)

Post-HSR 2.5, he’s a little more willing to rely on others though he still worries about burdening them. His vision is impaired severely so he’s a lot more careful when going about his life. He gets nightmares sometimes. But other than that he hasn’t changed all that much.

~~~~~

Formatting

“” : dialogue

Regular font : actions/narration

Italics: thoughts

Coloured text is in character, normal text is out of character.

~~~~~

Mod notice

You can call me Wolfe, she/they pronouns please. This is honestly something I made out of boredom but l'll check in fairly often :)

l'm not too familiar with HSR lore even though I play the game, so apologies for mistakes. This is also my first canon-based RP blog so yeah.

On another note, this blog is not affiliated with miHoYo and please don't involve me in any of the drama. Also I am NOT a doctor, please don’t come to this blog for irl health advice.

My main blog is @st4rrl1ghtwastaken if you wanna chill there

~~~~~

Rules

Anons, OCs and canon characters (both from Genshin and HSR) are welcome. Ask first for ships and characters from other fandoms.

Please try to interact only with muse, not mod, unless stated otherwise.

No NSFW, suggestive/flirting is fine.

Jiaoqiu canonically has severe visual impairment (for the post-2.5 version), and I hc him as bisexual. Ableists and queerphobes DNI.

Apart from that, I will block anyone who makes me feel uncomfortable.

~~~~~

Tags

the yaoqing’s foxian healer: general RP tag

home sweet home..: interactions with Xianzhou Yaoqing characters

friends both old and new..: interactions with blogs run by Wolfe's friends

mod wolfe speaks: what it says

[gardigansandkarma]

Travis Kelce Opens Up About Taylor Swift and What Comes Next

Wall Street Journal - Travis Kelce full article under the cut

A few months ago, he was merely football famous. Now Travis Kelce is ready to tell his story. ‘I’ve never dated anyone with that kind of aura about them.’

By J.R. Moehringer

WHEN TRAVIS KELCE was a young man, his college football coach pulled him aside one day and told him the secret of life: Everybody you meet in this world is either a fountain or a drain.

“I need fountains,” the coach growled at Kelce. “I don’t need f—ing drains. Travis, you’re f—ing draaaining me!”

The advice left a deep impression. (“Changed his life,” says one of Kelce’s closest friends.) Yes, Kelce thought—you’re either a giver of the basic wellsprings of life or a thirsty taker. He vowed to be the former. In a world of gutters, be a geyser. 

You think about that story as Kelce drives you around his beloved Kansas City, home of his world-champion Chiefs, for whom he’s the star tight end and arguably the second-most popular player, after his best friend, quarterback Patrick Mahomes. You think about that story on a gorgeous autumn afternoon as Kelce gives you a personal tour of his decadelong history in this city, his singular journey from clueless rook to legend. (“I used to take this scenic route [to the stadium]—there’s just something about seeing the city you’re about to go represent….”)

A different sort of celebrity might be more guarded, might even chirp those big Rolls tires and speed away before someone throws their body across the luminous silver bonnet, but Kelce’s default emotion is this—exuberant extroversion. He likes people. Loves people. Never mind deciding not to be a drain. If people gush at him, he can’t help it, he gushes back. 

Noting all this, you think how fame itself might be a kind of fountain. Some people moan about getting wet, others frolic like kids around a hydrant. You even wonder if this fountain-drain paradigm might be the skeleton key to Kelce, the Rosetta Stone for which half of America seems to be hunting right now. 

Kelce was famous for several years, thanks to his Hall of Fame résumé, his symbiotic relationship with Mahomes, but that was just football famous. This year, after winning the Super Bowl, after hosting Saturday Night Live, after starring in all the commercials, Kelce became inescapable. And that was before—you know. 

People have begun to ask in all earnestness why they can’t turn on their TV anymore without seeing Kelce’s sculpted mug. They wonder, not with snark, but in all sincerity: Who the frick is this guy? And where did he come from? 

You have a TV. You wonder too. So you decide to join the search for answers. One weekend, in the thick of football season, you get on a plane to Kansas City.

BUT FIRST. Back up. Like that knucklehead who threw it into reverse, go back. Before you can take the Travis Michael Kelce Guided Tour, you need to watch him cry. 

Kelce tries to play it off. He launches a sentence, stops. He launches another, again aborts. He paws his eyes with his giant hands and looks to be on the verge of losing it, because if Kelce loves people, what he really loves is his people. 

This whole display takes place on a Monday afternoon at a Kansas City steakhouse, where you and Kelce are having an early dinner. Like, retirement-community early. He’s in recovery mode, healing from dozens of violent collisions sustained during the previous day’s win over division rival Los Angeles, and food is medicine. He can intuit when he’s hit the caloric sweet spot necessary to mend or maintain his 6-foot-5, 260-pound frame (roughly 4,000), and he’s not there yet. So he orders the dry-aged filet rubbed with coffee, Caesar salad (hold the anchovies), a side of “triple-cooked” fries and a glass of water. 

After a long pause, and several Lamaze breaths, Kelce collects himself, apologizes. Can’t help it, he says; those folks who always have his back, who call him by the ancient secret nicknames (Big Yeti, El Travedor, Killatrav, Michael, etc.)—they’re everything. He doesn’t think of them as his entourage; he thinks of them as family, an extension of “Mama Kelce” and “Poppa Kelce” and older brother Jason, the starting center for the Philadelphia Eagles. 

Patrick Bacon, a friend since first grade, says Kelce’s go-to method of winding down after a hard game or long day is to sit with this “core group” around his kitchen island and chop it up. Talk, that’s what nourishes Kelce, not videogames, not bottle service at some club. 

“He loves to talk about the old days,” Bacon says. But it has to be with people from the old days. People who know that Kelce will sometimes dismiss a bad or subpar thing as “buns.” People who know that one of Kelce’s favorite desserts is French toast dripping with whipped cream and syrup. People who know that, growing up, he played every sport in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, and also know the difference between Cleveland Heights and Cleveland proper. You want to break into the Kelce core group? You better have a phone number that starts with 216. 

And yet, you wonder how well his friends really know him, how well he lets anyone know him, because to a person they all say Trav lives in the moment, Trav never thinks about tomorrow, Trav never worries about retirement, despite recently turning 34, making him a Gollum in the NFL, whereas Kelce confesses that he thinks about it nonstop, “more than anyone could ever imagine.” In the same spirit, perhaps, he keeps his own counsel about his round-the-clock physical anguish. “That’s the only thing I’ve never really been open about,” he says, “the discomfort. The pain. The lingering injuries—the 10 surgeries I’ve had that I still feel every single surgery to this day.” 

Kansas City’s longtime tight ends coach, Tom Melvin, says Kelce undersells the pain because the alternative is not playing, and the man will not miss games. “He has phenomenal pain tolerance. He’s played through things that other athletes I’ve coached through the years have not been able to push through. Mentally tough—way off the charts.” 

Kelce’s trainer and physical therapist, Alex Skacel, says there’s not a single day, in season, when Kelce stretches out on the training table and doesn’t have some gruesome bruise. What few realize, however, is the insane number of scratches. Guys claw each other out there, Skacel says; it can leave Kelce’s epidermis striated with crimson. To bounce back after such abuse requires more than basic therapy. Kelce and Skacel use a battery of esoteric treatments, from cupping to dry needling to occlusion therapy: essentially tying off a limb with a tourniquet while Kelce works out. Kelce also adheres to a pregame regimen of anti-inflammatories, which he doesn’t like to discuss because they “have a history of affecting people’s insides.” 

“There were definitely people she knew that knew who I was, in her corner [who said], ‘Yo! Did you know he was coming?'” Kelce says about how he initially found his way into Taylor Swift’s orbit. “I had someone playing Cupid.” Loewe coat, $4,990, Loewe​.com.

IF KELCE BROODS on life without football, one reason is that he had an excruciating sneak preview. A redshirt sophomore at Cincinnati, he got booted off the team for smoking pot. In a blink, he lost everything—his purpose, his meaning. “It was like my life was over.” 

He also lost his scholarship. He had to get a job. The best one he could find was at a telemarketing firm, doing healthcare surveys. “Eye-opening,” he says, bowing his head.

Cold-calling people in southern Ohio, northern Kentucky, eastern Indiana, asking what they thought of Obamacare, taught him a lot. (“Uh, sir, I ran out of the comment box, I can’t write anymore, we gotta kind of keep this moving.”) Above all it taught him that he didn’t want to ever do that again. 

He probably won’t have to. He’s got options. Sometimes he sees himself in a broadcasting booth. Sometimes his manager talks about action flicks. (Maybe a Marvel movie? Kelce’s already built like Wolverine.) You also get the sense that Kelce toys with notions of doing some form of comedy. He haunts clubs, lives for open-mic nights, and he’s gotten to be friendly with several rising stand-ups.

At the moment, of course, the only thing millions of people want to know about Kelce’s future is whether or not it will include Taylor Swift. And the second thing they’re dying to know is how he and she got together in the first place. 

Did he sit in a dark room and say Jumanji three times? He laughs. “I don’t know if I want to get into all of it,” he says, and then he gets into it, because fountain. 

It all started when he tried to meet Swift at her Arrowhead concert in July and got blocked, presumably by security. He then recounted the experience in a charming way on the podcast he does with Jason. Soon after, he says, he received an unbidden assist from inside Team Swift. 

“There were definitely people she knew that knew who I was, in her corner [who said]: Yo! Did you know he was coming? I had somebody playing Cupid.” He wasn’t aware at the time, however; the revelation only came later, after he looked down at his phone and got the shock of a lifetime. “She told me exactly what was going on and how I got lucky enough to get her to reach out.”

He lets slip that some of his early helpers were part of the Swift family tree. “She’ll probably hate me for saying this, but…when she came to Arrowhead, they gave her the big locker room as a dressing room, and her little cousins were taking pictures…in front of my locker.” 

Understandably, he’s not handing out details about the first date, though he will say that he managed to not be nervous. “When I met her in New York, we had already kind of been talking, so I knew we could have a nice dinner and, like, a conversation, and what goes from there will go from there.” 

If anyone was nervous, he adds, it was his core group. “Everybody around me telling me: Don’t f— this up! And me sitting here saying: Yeah—got it.”

Likewise, his mother. Donna Kelce still berates herself for how she handled a question about Taylor on the Today show. Trying not to sound too enthusiastic, she came off underwhelmed. Kelce, not wanting his mom to feel bad, immediately phoned her and assured her that she did a super job—adding that her green eyeglasses looked great. 

These days, however, with the relationship progressing, Donna feels more at liberty. “I can tell you this,” she says, beaming. “He’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time…. God bless him, he shot for the stars!”

Kelce seems freer, too. He doesn’t need to be asked about Taylor; he mentions her unreservedly, lavishes praise on her, calls her “hilarious,” “a genius,” notes that they share compatible worldviews, especially when it comes to family and work. “Everybody knows I’m a family guy,” he says. “Her team is her family. Her family does a lot of stuff in terms of the tour, the marketing, being around, so I think she has a lot of those values as well, which is right up my alley.”

One of Kelce’s friends describes a sweet, magical moment, a late-night gathering around Kelce’s firepit. Kelce and Swift looked like two “peas in a pod,” the friend says, and at one point they even burst into a memorable duet of—“Teenage Dirtbag”?

This must be fake 

My lips start to shake 

How does she know who I am? 

Kelce squints into the distance: He’s not sure they were singing…Wheatus. But he allows that his memory might be compromised. 

LONG BEFORE MEETING SWIFT, Kelce was just another Swiftie. In some ways he still is. He explains the concept of her concert—“She does it in eras”—as if you live in a yurt in Outer Mongolia. Then he eagerly informs you that the night he attended, he was counting the minutes until she got to 1989. (Both he and Swift were born in 1989.) “ ‘Blank Space’ was one I wanted to hear live for sure. I could make a bad guy good for the weekend. That’s a helluva line!”

More often than not, he says, it was a Swiftian beat, a melody that captivated him. (“She writes catchy jingles.”) But lately he’s all about those lyrics; he’s scrutinized the breakup stuff. What a miracle, he says, the way Swift can turn life into poetry. “I’ve never been a man of words. Being around her, seeing how smart Taylor is, has been f—ing mind-blowing. I’m learning every day.”

Something he might need to learn from Swift: how to handle the attention. Kelce lives in a quiet neighborhood north of downtown—leafy trees, trim lawns, no gates. There’s now a clutch of desperate-looking dudes with cameras stationed on his sidewalk 24/7. He’s followed everywhere, drones buzzing overhead—it’s stressful, more than he lets on, according to one confidante.

“Obviously I’ve never dated anyone with that kind of aura about them…. I’ve never dealt with it,” Kelce says. “But at the same time, I’m not running away from any of it…. The scrutiny she gets, how much she has a magnifying glass on her, every single day, paparazzi outside her house, outside every restaurant she goes to, after every flight she gets off, and she’s just living, enjoying life. When she acts like that I better not be the one acting all strange.”

Asked if he has anything to teach Swift, he looks shy. He can’t think of anything offhand. 

Football? 

Sure, he says, sounding unsure. 

Of course, the thing she probably wants to learn about most is him. While talking to Kelce you realize all at once that the most avid participant in the national scavenger hunt for clues about his character is likely Swift herself. To that end, Donna says that anyone wishing to understand her younger son would do well to start with her older. Travis “could never quite catch up” to Jason, she says. “He was always just second, just searching to be the best, and never quite getting there.” (The only way in which the two brothers were full equals was appetite. As boys, Donna says, “they would sit down and eat whole chickens.”) 

Others say the key to Travis is simpler than that. He’s basically still the kid who filled his Dad’s shampoo bottle with hand cream. “He just lives his life with so much joy,” Jason says. “He’s always kind of surrounding himself with people who are funny, who have a zest for life; it’s one of the things that defines him.”

Jason recalls many nights in the Kelce family room, the two brothers and mom eating in front of some comedy. “We had one of those coffee tables that the top would lift up and meet you at your face if you were eating,” he says, guffawing. 

Indeed, Kelce has warned Swift that she’s going to have to reckon with this part of his personality. Adam Sandler, Chris Farley, Will Ferrell—they will all be a part of the relationship. “I told Taylor that I have that world, I’ve got to introduce it to her. I let her know: This is my jam right here.” (Kelce does an uncanny imitation of Farley’s dorky baritone, and the ringtone on his phone is Farley primal screaming: For the love of GOD!) 

If the past is any prelude, this will register like an 8.0 earthquake among Swifties. Their queen—screening Tommy Boy? Every new factoid, every new piece of the puzzle, gets eagerly cataloged, investigated, celebrated, especially on “SwiftTok,” a fervent virtual community, according to Brian Donovan, a professor at the University of Kansas who teaches a seminar called The Sociology of Taylor Swift. 

Donovan says several of his class discussions this semester have been given over to No. 87. Swifties make no apology for delving into her relationships, just as Shakespeare scholars like to contemplate the subject of the sonnets. But the deep “vetting” of Kelce, Donovan adds, goes well beyond fans. “I think there’s a public fascination, because it seems like a pure unalloyed moment of joy in the wider context of global wars, deepening political polarization, dysfunction in Congress, an ongoing health crisis. There’s a lot of bad news out there, and this is a common story that everybody knows about and can talk about. I don’t think we’ve had that in American culture for a long time.” 

NOW GET IN THE CAR. Now you’re ready for the Rolls. Or are you? Gawking at the ceiling, you ask, Are those stars? 

Yes, Kelce says. 

You stare in disbelief. Embedded in a leather firmament are scores, no, hundreds—many hundreds—of twinkling lights, a fiber-optic galaxy meant to resemble the larger galaxy in which we’re all floating. For the sake of verisimilitude, the Rolls even produces a shooting star now and then. There was one, just a second ago, Kelce says. “Make a wish. Dreams come true.” 

He guns the engine and steers toward downtown. The Rolls doesn’t drive so much as waft you around Kansas City. The ride is so cush, it almost makes sense, for a moment or two, that the car is worth more than many of the buildings you pass. (A Rolls Ghost, before customizing, goes for nearly half a million dollars.) All of which makes it that much more startling, as you come to the heart of downtown, when Kelce points out his first-ever apartment and shows you the alley door where he’d sneak in and out when he was late on the rent. 

What? 

He’s not ducking landlords these days. Still, he’s grossly underpaid. His $14 million salary, though near the top among tight ends, is half what the league’s star receivers make, and Kelce often functions as a receiver. 

Nothing to be done, he says flatly. The Chiefs know, he says, that he would play for free. They know he loves his city, his quarterback. “Unfortunately, in this business, things gotta get ugly, they gotta get unpleasant [if you want more money], and I’m a pleasant son of a buck.”

Thank goodness for endorsements. At this point, says his co-manager Aaron Eanes, “the NFL is just his side hustle.” 

Eanes and his brother, Andre, handle much of Kelce’s business life, from investments to marketing, and it was they who widened his investment portfolio, putting him into a tequila company, an energy drink and a chain of car washes. They also steered him into lucrative endorsements, like Bud Light and the Covid vaccine, for which he caught much grief from Aaron Rodgers. The Jets quarterback, out since game one of the season with a torn Achilles, belittled Kelce as a Pfizer shill during one of his Tuesday appearances on The Pat McAfee Show. 

Kelce took the high road then. He’s staying on it now. “Aaron’s always been cool to me,” he says. “I knew he was trying to have some fun. He’s in a situation where Tuesdays are his game days…. So I get it, man, I’ve been injured too…. Who knows what the guy is going through?”

Mary Esselman, Operation Breakthrough’s CEO, says that whenever Kelce visits, he doesn’t bring media and he doesn’t leave until the last kid has felt seen and appreciated. Not long ago, she adds, Kelce sponsored a football camp. Afterward, Esselman asked the children to name the highlight of the experience. 

One told her: “He remembered my name.” 

Kelce drives you past a jazz club he likes, a coffee place he used to frequent. Just recently, he concedes, he could go to a Starbucks in Manhattan without anyone looking twice. Those days seem over. Minutes later, he’s steering past a small airport, where Swift’s plane is often prominently parked these days. 

Is it there now, gleaming in the moonlight? The Kelce eras tour is coming to a close. Left unsaid, but palpable: She’s at the house, waiting. 

The Rolls pulls off the highway, up the hill to your hotel. You thank him for taking so much time, for answering all your questions. As you step out of the Rolls, you turn, ask him one more. 

You ask him if you’re going crazy, or did he really say that thing when you first got in the car? Did he really point to a shooting star in the ceiling of his Rolls-Royce and say, “Make a wish. Dreams come true”? 

He cracks up. 

He did. He said it. 

He’s not running from it. 

What’s more, it might just be true. 

“How do you think I manifest it all?”

[dark-elf-writes]

Harry and Touya make a bucket list over the years of all the things they’re going to do when they finally see each other. And they, teen moms as they are, both decide family photos are an absolute must.

And thus Harry, teddy, and the todoroki siblings all find themselves posed for an awkward JC Penny photo shoot.

The contents include but are not limited to: Touya lion king-ing teddy and Harry doing the same with shoto (plus several attempts to do the same with Natsuo and Fuyumi), Harry and Touya doing the dirty dancing lift, them all staring at the camera with blank faces + sunglasses, each of the solemnly posing with a random object, a height line up from tallest to shortest, and head stacking.

I’m obsessed with the idea of the list, of an ever growling list of promises to each other to make up for what they never got to have (what they lost along the way) until they were fully on their own.

It starts, perhaps predictably, with a dog. An absolutely massive thing with light shaggy fur (“anything but black” Harry had pleaded through tears. The wound still raw to have such a present reminder of one of the many ghosts in his life) and is the absolute definition of a gentle giant. He does wonders for all of them, helps heal some of the broken pieces of them.

Then Harry starts learning to cook new and more wild dishes. Starts experimenting in ways that he was never allowed to before. Starts learning to express himself through food and take back the piece of him that had always enjoyed the process even if he hated who it was for.

Then Touya gets piercings and tattoos and removes himself farther and father from the ideal of perfection that was shoved upon him. After some gentle prodding Harry gets a few tattoos of his own and the prophet has a field day when he comes back to England for some reason or another and they get pictures.

They get cringy family photos done, all of them laughing between takes and swatting at each other when they broke into giggles in the middle of a picture.

Touya gets Harry art supplies, remembering how he had once loved to draw all those years ago, and encourages him to take it up again. Their house is full of little paintings in seemingly random places that make them all smile when they see them.

Harry uses magic openly and freely in the house, never flinching away from what he is. They use the word magic without fear. Freak is never once spoken in the safety of their home.

Touya and Shouto learn to take their fire back, to unlearn it as a part of their father and see only their own ability that has been theirs since birth. Learn to manage the flames without hurting themselves or others. Learn to love the part of themselves they hated.

They learn how to heal in their own ways, in seemingly silly and weird ways, in ways that no one would ever think of. They learn what happiness means to them and they chase it.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Alaina Demopoulos at The Guardian:

For Mikyla Page, keeping a three year-old daughter healthy is serious business. Before eating anything, the stay-at-home mom reads an ingredients list, staying away from artificial colors, flavors, dyes, and excess sugar. She doesn’t support vaccination, instead believing that “bathing in sunlight” will keep her family healthy, making sure her family gets outside every day to soak up vitamin D. At first, Page felt alone in her choices. “You’re called crazy for even questioning the medical field,” she said. “My intuition was telling me one thing, but the world was telling me something else. My husband was like, ‘Are you sure this is where you want to go?’ I just went with my gut.”

Now, with Robert F Kennedy Jr tapped by Donald Trump to oversee the Department of Health and Human Services, Page, who is 26 and lives in Utah, feels vindicated. Kennedy is well known for his history of pushing baseless health claims that sometimes veer into tinfoil hat territory – he’s said that chemicals in the water supply affect a child’s gender identity, and that Covid was “ethnically targeted” to spare Ashkenazi Jewish and Chinese people. He has also long advocated against vaccines, repeating the debunked claim made by the discredited British doctor Andrew Wakefield that the vaccines cause autism.

Kennedy’s supporters include an army of self-identified “crunchy moms” like Page, who are especially drawn to one proposal in particular: improving Americans’ diets and reeling in the processed food industry. In November, he accused major manufacturers of “poison[ing]” kids. Moms on social media adopted the hashtag #MAHA, which has been used in over 224,000 TikTok videos (Kennedy has promised to “make America healthy again” – a play on Donald Trump’s trademark slogan that’s often shortened to Maha). Anyone can consider themselves Maha, but mothers in particular have become its fiercest evangelists online, where they post videos explaining their politics while cooking dinner or resting a swaddled baby in their arms. Maha can be seen as the alliance of multiple health-focused subcultures. Along with crunchy moms, there are influencers and entrepreneurs who use the movement to peddle supposedly non-toxic brands of baby wipes or moisturizers. There are the chronically ill, who feel failed by the medical establishment. There are the yogis and wellness bros who believe that it’s possible to optimize your way to a better life, to heal oneself without the help of mainstream medicine. And then there is Trump – famously a McDonald’s lover, and not exactly the picture of health – and his supporters, who politicize Maha as a rallying cry against science-based elites.

But moms have a special place within the movement. They are the kinds of voters that the Democrats thought they had locked up when Kamala Harris ran on a history of prosecuting sex offenders and a platform of abortion rights. But, Page says, it was Kennedy who mad her feel legitimized for the first time. “It’s nice to have somebody backing you up, especially a male [such as Kennedy], because I feel like sometimes men take longer to catch on to these things since they don’t have a maternal instinct,” Page said. “It’s nice to have someone like Robert Kennedy and Trump to see these issues.” Page says she’s most excited for Kennedy to “crack down on dyes in food and helping the [Food and Drug Administration] regulate that”. One specific dye, the petroleum-based red 3 that’s ubiquitous in American junk food, may be banned by the FDA soon for use in food – it’s been banned in cosmetics since 1990 – since it has been found to be carcinogenic in animals. A number of Democrats, including the New Jersey congressman Frank Pallone, have sought to have the dye banned. The FDA’s current review is not related to Kennedy, though he is in favor of a ban.

[...] The past decade-plus has seen the rise of the momfluencer, women who project an impossible image of soft, mess-free, domestic bliss. They sell new mothers a fantasy – as well as promoting the products they say are required to attain it. These brands are always “non-toxic” or “organic”. Kennedy also uses this language, and his audience is primed to respond to it. Kennedy has also declared war on the “chronic illness epidemic”. Women are disproportionately affected by chronic illnesses such as depression, endometriosis, and Alzheimer’s, but doctors are less likely to listen to them. Kennedy’s promise to overhaul systems like the FDA and Centers for Disease Control and Prevention takes on a common enemy: the idea of a traditional doctor in a white lab coat. Maha women might have felt dismissed or gaslighted by this figure, so they root against the status quo and look for alternatives – no matter how untested, or potentially dangerous.

The Guardian has an informative story on how crunchy mom influencers are embracing the MAHA vision for America, but they aren't the only health-related subculture that has joined the RFK-MAHA ride.

[kaftan]

I am begging you to talk about your Amy fanfic. I crave knowing what you have cooking

HI… it’s cooking I promise I’ve just been. In the torment nexus they call university. I’ve been torment nexusing. I actually have two (2) amy fic drafts, the latter of which can only happen once I’m completely through with worm because it requires more knowledge of her canon backstory — the synopsis is amy experiencing the horrors of sexual attraction brought on by puberty for the very first time, and what that might have looked like for her. This is the one I’ve posted an excerpt from.

The second is a much more ambitious undertaking: a structurally experimental poem-y filling in of the gap in canon where amy was trying to heal (and in fact wretch-ing) victoria in the s9 arc. What was it… three days that she was alone with her? Something like that. I need to write in that sandbox so badly it kills me, but to do so I first have to acquaint myself with lots of medical terminology, and finish reading Detailing Trauma by Arianne Zwartjes for some poetry direction. But it will happen! It will happen. So help me god.

[campgender]

on “sacred housework”

from God’s Daughters: Evangelical Women and the Power of Submission by R. Marie Griffith (1997) pp. 181-182

Related to this tactical notion of submission as a means for turning men into happy husbands who then want to please their wives is the notion of what may be termed “sacred housework,” wherein surrendering to one’s ordained tasks is seen as an act of worship that also leads to greater happiness within the home. This idea is frequently articulated in Aglow literature, as in Aglow in the Kitchen, a cookbook for Christian wives. The author of that book writes of being “stunned” when her husband taught her that “cooking and homemaking are ministries to the Lord.”

Recalling the kinds of “homey tasks” that Jesus had performed during his time on earth, she tells of getting the lettuce from the refrigerator, tearing it up for salad, and “talk[ing] to the Lord”: “Jesus, thank You for showing me that housework is sacred. Help me to realize while I am cooking and cleaning that I am doing them for You because You are living here and my husband is Your representative.” In this way, what was once drudgery can apparently be transformed into worship, service, and domestic happiness.

When housework is perceived as sacred, it may also become an important source of self-esteem. As a young housewife and mother whose husband was a traveling evangelist, Betty found herself “very dissatisfied” and “depressed.” Finally, she was healed from her misery when Jesus gave her a “vision” of her “role in the home as a happy wife and mother.” She began to see that if she were happy, her husband and her children would also be happy, a notion that allowed her to begin to see herself as “the ‘hub’ of the wheel,” around which “everything revolves.”

She notes, “I began to see myself as VERY IMPORTANT to the members of my family.” Her concluding words suggest the continuing ambivalence she feels toward this state, along with her hopeful determination to feel good about herself as a housewife: “I know from experience that I will not always be staying at home, but I also know that with God’s help I can have that real contentment WHEREVER I AM.”

Here again the lesson is that surrendering to the roles of housewife and mother brings joy to everyone in the home, most significantly to the submissive woman herself. As Betty tells her readers, women find joy and learn that they are “VERY IMPORTANT” when they simply yield to God’s expectation of them, transforming housework from a source of boredom and depression into a wellspring of joy and self-esteem.

The frequent admissions by Aglow authors that they find such work as cooking and cleaning and running errands mind-numbingly dull show that such a transformation is anything but easy. Still, in their description of submission and surrender as “natural” and in the reminder that other members of the family could not get along without them, the women of Aglow formulate what they perceive as a workable solution to a persistent dilemma, achieving a kind of pride and self-respect in the most mundane and ordinary of tasks.

Once again, for these evangelical women the meanings of submission and surrender represent far more than simple passivity. They are cen- […]

[ohu-thia]

Chronic Gastritis

I've liked kawaii medicalcore / menhera for years but irl i hate dealing with doctors and health problems

I've dealt with a mystery health issue that causes severe stomach pain for over 9 months. In total I've lost 80lbs from not being able to eat anything + no appetite. Most of it was rapidly lost over the course of a few months. The rapid weight loss and being bed bound repeatedly for about a week straight each time caused my muscles to atrophy. I'm slowly building back my strength but I'm no where near how I used to be.

I couldn't even get in for an appointment for over half a year. Couldn't get medical treatment so I had to treat myself, I found a diet through painful trial and basically guessing, causing excruciating flair-ups over and over...Well I finally I got to see doctors and after testing negative for other stuff I got an upper endoscopy.

I got diagnosed with Chronic Gastritis. This can last years, and some people say theirs never went away fully. Mine was caused by an NSAID (Meloxicam) that I was prescribed for years to treat a messed up back, the pills ate my stomach lining up. It's a miracle I didn't get internal bleeding from this since I kept taking them not knowing it was the cause. Would have been nice to see a doctor in a reasonable amount of time, the first thing he did was take me off of it.

I can't eat most foods. What I can eat, I don't really care for. Make one mistake and it causes excruciating pain, and you are set back to day one with healing. Eating other people's cooking is a gamble...I got a surprise with bread a little under a month ago.

Chronic Gastritis fact: There's another type of Chronic Gastritis caused by a bacteria called Helicobacter pylori and it's the only bacteria that is known to cause cancer. It's a major risk factor for Gastric cancer. 60% of the world's population is infected with it, although it usually is asymptomatic and benign.

I tested negative for it though with a breath test, but I'm getting retested along with the other stuff they're checking with my biopsies. I was supposed to get the results in a week but they never bothered to call...The medical system in the US is beyond broken. Guess I'm going to hear it at my follow-up?

posting this bc boogie2988 lol

also here's pictures of my insides...im spoiler-ing it bc its literally my insides

its cool they gave me this I usually have to beg for photos...I wonder where I put that photo of my face x-rayed

[faroreswinds]

With the Tears of the Kingdom previews out, I took a gander at general reactions on Reddit. Why? I don’t know, I must hate myself. 

I also actively despise Zelda Youtubers so I don’t want to go there and read Youtube comments. 

I have been surprised by the number of negative comments after the previews. I figured this would go over really well, since Freedom TM seems to be popular theses days in your gameplay. With the overwhelming success of BotW, I figured more would be welcomed. 

But no, there are quite a few people who don’t like what they see. r/Games, for instance, has this thread where many people express that they aren’t sure if they really like the direction Zelda is heading now. As if it is really going too far. r/NintendoSwitch also has this thread where similar sentiments are shared. Of course, r/truezelda, r/tearsofthekingdom and r/Zelda share similar sentiments from time to time, but as they are Zelda subreddits, these fans are drowned out as haters or trolls. 

Now below the cut are some minor spoiler stuff. I will be hiding it for those who are keeping themselves spoiler free entirely.

You have been warned. There are gameplay spoilers below. 

Personally myself, I’m am not entirely pleased either. I already do not like this Princess Zelda or Link. I do not really like this Hyrule. I only really like Riju and Sidon. And I can tell you that the story will not be my cup of tea. It’s er... it’s going to be something.

Of course I will play the game and judge it accordingly. But first impressions have not been great. I can fuse a mushroom to my shield? Technically impressive, but not really want I wanted. I can craft vehicles? Looks dumb, I don’t want rockets or shit in my fantasy video game. 

Actual bombs being back is great though. Well, bomb flowers, but close enough, those are a classic. I also really think being able to bring Sidon on my adventure will be fun as well. Not... happy about Tulin though. He’s an annoying little kid, and frankly I don’t get the appeal. 

The new menu design looks both great and terrible. It’s ugly on the eyes, like really ugly. But there are some clear improvements in function. 

Not a fan of all the menu-ing you will have to do. Apparently, you have to go into a menu every time you want to fuse something to your arrow. No bulk fusing that we know of yet. That is a serious design flaw if true. Menu-ing also breaks up the flow of combat, and if I can just open a menu and dick around with the items to put a flamethrower on my shield, then there will be a lot of time spent in menus while in combat. 

Speaking of menus, they have not fixed the healing system. It still functions the same. Pause, eat as much as you want, continue battle. Lame. They did make some changes, but not in the way that enhances combat. 

First of all, you can cook anywhere with a new item (one time use though). This was never an issue. The real issue was never being able to cook in bulk, but one at a time, making it a tedious wait time of watching the same animations over and over again. 

Second, there is now a recipe book. Great, but unless hearty foods are no longer in the game I can promise you I will not be cooking much. I will make the most simple shit that is effective, not try to see what fun recipes I can make. Who cares if I can make cake if it only heals me 5 heart, when a fish with a hearty turnip will heal me thirty? But people asked for a recipe book, so I’m not necessarily mad that it is there. 

I also want to touch quickly on durability and ultrahand. Durability, of course, is back. Urg. But they tried to “fix” it by making it so you can fuse items together to make it more durable. Cool. But it’s still breakable. 

And apparently, you can just unfuse the item and then refuse it with something else to keep it even longer. This is essentially resetting durability. If this is true, then it is effectively no durability with extra, tedious steps. 

In fact, this whole game looks like a lot of tedium. 

As for ultrahand, there is apparently a skill that allows you to save past builds. You can then autobuild them instantly if you have the right items. Great idea, except did we really have to waste a skill slot for this? Apparently it is a later game skill. If true, this means that any early builds you make will be unable to be saved. Nintendo wanted to keep this skill a secret for some reason. Honestly, I have no idea why. It’s not like that it is worth keep private. It’s a QoL feature that people should probably know about. 

My guess is that they don’t want to discourage people from experimenting early on. If people can save their builds right away, they will just keep their early builds and continue to adjust them till they end the game, rather than continuing trying new things. And if you know there is a save feature you get later, you might be discouraged to try making things early since you cannot keep the schematics around. 

This is lame if true, though. 

There are effectively “8″ skills Link can use. I use the number “8″ loosely. It’s not really 8 skills, but rather 4 skills, 1 expanded feature on another skill, and 1 amiibo skill. 

Ultrahand - Link can pick up and move anything, and put them together in any configuration he would like

Fuse - Take up to two items and fuse them together like glue

Ascend - Go through ceilings and some enemies like water and reach the top

Recall - Turn back time on an object so it returns to its original position. 

These are the known, unique skills. Then we have

Autobuild - Quickly build past builds if you have the parts. This is essentially a save feature for Ultrahand

Amiibo - Literally just the amiibo skill, similar to the amiibo rune from Botw. 

Finally, we have two mysterious skills

Compass-thing - Some weird compass-looking green icon. It’s probably a tracking feature, but we do not know it’s purpose yet. 

Blank - We honestly don’t know what this could be. Could be a camera skill. Could be a secondary feature to one of the main 4 features. We just have no clue at all. 

Effectively, these are rune replacements. Ultrahand + Autobuild is just Magnesis but better. Recall is Statis but instead of freezing an object, you make it go in reverse into it’s original position. Amiibo is amiibo. 

Ascend is basically Revali’s Gale but through rock instead of the air. Fuse is entirely new. However, Ascend has some great exploration potential. Maybe I can find an air pocket in a cave with treasure. Hopefully, though, that treasure will be worth it and not some stupid consumable sword. 

The bomb runes and Cryonsis are entirely gone. The bombs have been replaced with bomb flowers as a consumable item now. So no more remote bombs, round or square. Cryonsis could have a similar skill that is that missing blank skill, but I suspect they want players to use the Ultrahand system, and make ships and the like. Cryonsis would remove the need to do this, so it has to go. 

Most of these skills are entirely focused on the sandbox-style of BotW. I am not a particular fan of sandbox games, and it saddens me that this is the direction Zelda seems to be going. It was fine for a single game, but I had hoped for a more cultured, straight-forward experience in future installments. I figured Totk would still value freedom to the player, but it doubled down in ways I was hoping it would not. 

The only real “combat” skills are maybe Fuse and Recall. Fuse because of making weapons better. Recall because you can make rolling stones hit enemies or the like.

But calling them real “combat” skills is a stretch. They don’t really actually do combat, but rather craft the necessary items to create a combat experience. I’m hoping that like BotW, we get more “combat” skills like Urbosa’s Fury (unless they didn’t add stuff like this because they want to player to interact with the fusing system). 

I am worried about the size of the map. BotW ran pretty ok, but it still had issues. This is a bigger game, with a LOT more going on. Honestly, it seems too ambitious for a Switch game. My super powerful PC sometimes struggles to play Elden Ring, and a little Switch will seamlessly play the biggest Zelda game of all time? When it couldn’t even get a small title like Link’s Awakening to play smoothly? I’m skeptical. 

And with the map size so big, I feel like this will be a one and done game for me. I’m a lot older now, and exploring large maps are only fun once. After the first time, it’s too overwhelming to try it again. I love Elden Ring, but it’s 30 square mile map keeps me from wanting to do another thorough playthrough again. I am actually replying it, but I plan to skip a lot. 

When it came to BotW’s map, it is so large but empty of meaningful content that I don’t have it in me to roam around just for the reason of roaming around. I need goals, that come with real, tangible rewards at the end. Now we are getting the map again (which was already 22 square miles) plus the sky PLUS underground stuff. That is a lot of land. How can you fill all that with meaningful content you want to do again and again? This could be potentially bigger than Elden Ring’s map. And Elden Ring’s map is really big. It’s starting to all get too big for me. 

Also, Korok seeds are back. Urg. Why? I don’t want them. Can we not figure out another means to fill the world with content besides more Korok seeds? 

However, and this might sound a bit callous... but I look forward to the future “BotW” versus “Totk” fights.

Already it’s happening. Fans wondering if Totk will completely invalidate the experience BotW offered. Totk looks richer, fuller. It’s larger. It looks like it has a better story. NPC companions, probably better side quests, lots of crafting, and hopefully better dungeons! 

I have no leg in this fight because I love MM and MM is not the most favorite Zelda game in the series among fans. I don’t particularly enjoy the direction Zelda is going, both in lore and gameplay. Seeing people argue about which game will be the better Zelda experience, BotW or Totk, will be quite funny to me. 

To end on a positive note, the Sky Islands we did see do look quite beautiful. I look forward to see these beautiful lands. 

[marune2]

Ida Faust

Summary

Oh god’s it’s happened fumito and Ida’s hobby happened and ichika can just looking she don’t fell jealous she is pretty sure

—————————-

Ida scream up“ oh here is how you make chicken soup ala clover at least the baist of your ramen chicken soup is mostly the same fuc€ing hell!!!!!!!

Fumito is hyper motivated too“ oh cool and the soup have even a healing effect!!!!! Thanks to the chicken bones!!!!!

Ida nodding at him“yes it’s help against fifer and Viren and it’s taste good!!! If you make the bace of this soup in a ramen soup this were fire!!!!!

Ichika just stare it’s whas surprising for her they became friends after Ida did try to kill him and now they talking abaut cooking for 2 hours now she doesn’t fell jealous she is pretty sure she thinks

Fumito happy“ oh this would be good!!!! Oh ichika you get your a good girl“say he whit a smile and looking at her he fell her jealousy

Ichika looking out of guard but nodding at him „yes I do „glare at him but felling proud

Fumito laughing „good good I need to go now have fun

Ida looking at him smiling „yes sure see ya buddy „say she and go to ichika and take what is her‘s a kiss

Fumito just laughing and go now

Ichika“you can good whit him….“stare at her

Ida just smile „he is fine I guess but you after all my favorite my love“smile warm

Ichika going red a little bit“hmm

Ida just laughing at this

[deludedcrayon]

just going to vent for a little bit please don’t reply if ur just going to judge

i cook dinner for christmas every year for my family because i genuinely enjoy it even if it is a lot of work. i was especially excited about this year because i was going to make two new dishes, and i put on the shopping list that we needed parmesan and told my mom we were all out of it. my mom forgot it and it was the main ingredient for one of my new dishes. i started crying because i literally fucking have bpd and have trouble regulating my emotions, and honestly, my family doesn’t even do decorations or presents anymore, so this dinner is really all i have. immediately my dad yells at me not to “ruin christmas” and my mom doesn’t even apologize or acknowledge the fact that she forgot something. i’m not blaming her, i know these things happen, but i feel like a simple sorry would be common courtesy because everyone knows how seriously i take this cooking. my brother was the only one who took me seriously, he went out to whatever stores were open and searched for it until my mom called him back bc he couldn’t find any. at this point, even though it’s what started it, i’m not even mad or distressed about the missing ingredient. i’m just tired because i can hear my parents complaining abt me in swahili, thinking i don’t understand even though i can hear them saying “exaggerating” “[my name]” “crying.” i’m just tired of the lack of support from them. i’m working with my therapist on my coping mechanisms and dbt, but it’s still hard accepting the fact that my parents will never understand me. no matter how much they say they support me because they give me a place to live and my mom “claims” to understand bpd, it’s obvious they don’t because they judge me when i have these emotional moments and don’t even bother to try to talk to me. i know it’s small, i know it’s not a big deal, i know i’m overreacting, i don’t need someone to lie to me and say that it’s the end of the world, i just need someone to understand that it feels that way to me. i feel so taken for granted for in this house. would they even love me if i didn’t provide use? if i didn’t take my meds and stay sober for them? if i didn’t go to school for them and work the job they made me do? if i didn’t cook for them every holiday? i don’t even feel happy about the holiday anymore. i don’t have any decorations or traditions, i don’t have any presents to give or recieve, i don’t have any affection to give or recieve, and now i feel like my dinner is ruined (even though logically i know it’s not). i’m just tired. i think about that quote about how u can’t heal in the same place that broke you. all i look forward to is c-**ing myself. what’s the point of even trying anymore i just have to get out of here before im so mutilated i have nowhere else to go.

[subsequentibis]

6, 7 and 31 for Sal and Lazarus?

6. If they were badly injured, and for whatever reason couldn't go to a hospital, who would they go to for help?

this is an INCREDIBLY funny question for the both of them because the inciting incident of underbelly is that sal gets attacked by a big sentient flesh eating fungus that goes in her, is too scared to go to the doctor, and just tries to go sleep it off on the off chance it might have been a fucked up dream or hallucination. meanwhile laz has fast healing powers so he would genuinely just curl up in a dark alley like a wounded animal licking its wounds until they closed up and he'd stagger off into the night again. neither of them are very open about being hurt for various reasons - sal refuses to be a burden out of anxiety, and laz refuses to be a burden out of the stubborn belief he can take care of himself no matter what.

however in the spirit of the question, if they WERE to go to someone, sal would go to mac, her colleague and closest friend pre-fungits-ing, and laz would go to diana, his best worstie. (note: diana is currently in Redesign Hell bc i decided i only want my own designs in underbelly)

7. Do they have any unusual fears?

none off the top of my head... sal probably has some extremely specific scenarios cooked up by her generalized anxiety & mild ocd. laz definitely is scared of something incredibly mundane to the point of absurdity, but he expresses his fear by getting angry and puffing himself up like a tomcat so it's probably hard to tell when he is scared.

31. What superpower would you choose for them and what would they choose for themselves? If they have one would they choose something else?

i would give sal shapeshifting! she would also like shapeshifting but not the way i would give it to her :) i would give her really gross meaty narsty shifting and she would like it to be neat & clean and maybe done with a puff of smoke and some glitter.

laz does already have superpowers; enhanced strength, durability, faster healing, control over fire. i think he would choose teleportation and/or mind reading.

[goodgaymckay]

I'm adding onto the therapy snuggle thing I wrote. I think Jerry sees Scott reacting to touch like that and wants to see if other senses can get Scott like that too. So he gives Scott therapy homework (which he whines about) to make a childhood meal in order to engage his senses. "Like something his mom used to make" (cause Jerry's mom was very much the house cook/baker)

Unfortunately, Jerry doesn't know yet that Scott's parents rarely cooked. They were so busy with work and family and other fun adult personal events that they usually got home late with fast food (this made Scott a picky eater). Sometimes they'd stay out until after midnight so he and his sister work fend for themselves (she'd make kraft dinner while he complained, when they ran out of kraft dinner, they'd fight over shitty frozen kids meals, Scott always lost those).

But He does have 1 memory of his mom's tuna beef casserole!! After somehow acquiring all of the ingredients (he thinks) he calls up Jerry to he'll him the good news : he has everything and has no idea how to assemble it! Jerry appears in front of his door to help him, and his very eager to help him until he sees the ingredients on the table.. he asks Scott to walk him through what he remembers in order to make this ...

1) 2 cans of tuna (undrained) into a casserole dish (we'll need the tuna water to help cook the pasta)

2) discounted and slightly discolored raw ground beef (the amount doesn't matter)

3) Raw penne pasta (or any pasta, who gives a fuck, his mom didn't)

3)little club soda or sprite

4) lemon juice (depends on how bad the hangover is)

5) two spoonfuls of mayo

6) block on cheese (any kind, placed in the enter of the dish)

7) bake for 15-45 minutes

8) eat in bowl with white bread and a coke or other soda/liquid

(Optional: sprinkle more cheese on top)

His mom made it for them as a pre hangover cure for herself at 7pm-5am, Jerry wishes he knew that earlier so he could have drove over drunk for accuracy. They settle on acting drunk together instead (which makes Scott feel more adult too! In an "I'm playing an adult!" Kinda way". Scott decides to cuddle up to jerry while he's munching on some childhood "late night delight!", Jerry politely refused to eat it because it smells like shit and is "generally unappetizing, like barely edible, why did she feed this to you?"

Scott (totally acting shitfaced, making hand gestures, nuzzling into Jerry) starts telling about the time she surprised them with it at 4 am on Christmas break with marshmallows on top after both parents got wasted on eggnog (dads a lightweight, Scott inherited thus trait).

And Jerry's like nodding along like "wow, that sounds horrible! If you where my kid-" and then Jerry starts listening nice stuff he'd do for Scott (in a non-weird way).. Jerry's not weird talking to his younger friend/client this way. The way his eyes light up when he tells him he'd let him pick up any game he wanted from the store is clearly healing Scott's inner child or something. He does have nice eyes, tho, very round. Meanwhile Scotts getting super flustered about this the whole time, he doesn't know why, maybe he just likes the thought of being taken care of, not like he deserves it, he's doing fine, his face is heating up, his stomach is fluttering, and he's vomiting on the floor again.

He starts to remember all the times he got in trouble for doing the same thing when he was younger. He never liked this, but making it with his mom (watching her toss shit in a casserole dish while he rambled about ramdom stuff) , who was interacting with him, was nice for once. His face is all red as he ugly crys about it.

Jerry drags him to the bathroom, Scott's surprised when he starts soothing him instead of yelling at him for the mess he's made. Jerry let's Scott's rest his head on his (Jerry's) knees while he brushes figures through his hair and makes little shhh-ing noises. Scott's in heaven.

Jerry gets him all cleaned up (and the mess down the hall) and helps him to bed. He even Tucks Scott in and in a baffling act of feelings Scott can't describe/fully understand says to Jerry "what, no Goodnight kiss?" So Jerry gives it to him on the forehead. Scott let's out a little happy noise, which makes Jerry laugh. He starts giving Scott more, on his forehead, then his checks, jaw, and finally (in a moment of weird sexual tension) his mouth.

They make out sloppy style until Scott begs Jerry to "Ravish his (virgin) body" which he does. (Scott gets to grind up into Jerrys clothed knee 3 times until he comes). Jerry ends up jacking it in front/on top of Scott. Scott takes a little taste later and notes the salty taste.

The two have been head over heels for each other ever since that night!

(I wanna turn this into a fic called bedtime or midnight snack or something)

giving Scott a sister is wild little man is an only child. He was so lonely bro he didn’t even have a sibling to whine at.

but my god I love them. I love the care Jerry has for Scott. I like Scott cumming after grinding on him a tiny bit.

[aryapooja0501]

Pro Lego Fortnite Tips And Tricks

Hey fellow Lego Fortnite enthusiasts! If you’ve just stepped into the blocky world of Lego Fortnite, you might be feeling a bit overwhelmed by the endless possibilities. Fear not! This blog is your go-to guide for getting started and making the most out of your Lego adventures. Let’s dive right in!

Lego Fortnite Tips And Tricks

No Shame in Making it Easy

Creating your world defaults to survival mode, which can be pretty intense if you’re flying solo. The good news? There’s no penalty for making things a bit easier. Feel free to skip the temperature and hunger challenges for a smoother ride. Lego Fortnite is all about having fun, and there are no bonus points for making things harder than they need to be.

Battle Pass XP – Easy Peasy

Lego Fortnite is generous with Battle Pass XP, dishing out around 30k for every 15 minutes of gameplay. There’s a daily cap, but here’s the kicker – you can passively earn XP without any prep work. No need to click all over the place like some other games; just play Lego Fortnite and watch that Battle Pass progress effortlessly.

Put Those Villagers to Work

Level up your village, recruit NPCs, and put them to work. Whether it’s gathering resources or refining materials, your Lego workers can be a game-changer. Plus, while you’re AFK-ing for XP, they’ll be busy stocking up on valuable resources. It’s a win-win situation!

Snowberries and Spicy Peppers – Nature’s Buffs

In the early stages, protecting yourself from the environment can be a challenge. Fear not, brave Lego warrior! Munch on snowberries for heat resistance or spicy peppers for cold resistance. Find them in the right biomes, and once you’ve got a grill, cook them up for extended protection.

Sleep is Optional

While your Lego villagers need beds, you can skip out on one for yourself. Beds offer health regeneration and set respawn points, but you can achieve the same healing effect by munching on the food in your inventory. Unlike some other games, sleeping is just for show in Lego Fortnite – no need to stress about it.

Punch it Out

Deleting things in Lego Fortnite is a bit different. Proudly following Lego tradition, if you want to remove something, just give it a good ol’ punch until it breaks. No need for fancy editing interfaces here. You’ll get back the resources you spent, and you’re free to build elsewhere.

Hold to Eat or Harvest

Eating berries for that hunger boost? Hold down the button (right trigger on the controller) and let your Lego hero munch away until they’re satisfied. The same trick works for harvesting – no need to spam the button, just hold it down for a convenient and low-key experience.

Caves Are Rock Piles

Ready for your first big adventure? Look for large rock formations too tough for your pickaxe. These usually hide cave entrances, where you’ll discover the next tier of resources crucial for crafting advanced equipment.

Forget Blueprints After Level 3

The tutorial guides you through using blueprints to assemble structures, but here’s the scoop – once your village hits level 3, you can ditch the blueprints. Unleash your creativity using building parts freely to design structures your way. It might take a bit more effort, but hey, that’s part of the fun!

Storage Chests – Your Best Friends

As soon as you can, build storage chests. The early ones are tiny, but they’re a lifesaver for expanding your storage capacity. Cook up some wood planks and stash your items to avoid the pain of losing everything when an ice wolf decides to ruin your day.

There you have it, Lego Fortnite aficionados! Consider this blog your survival handbook, offering simple yet effective tips to make your journey smoother. Happy building and gaming!