#didn't want to finish the post proper with this so I'll put it in the tags

[maxwell-grant]

Asking because apparently he has a crossover with the Shadow and the Spider : do you have any thought on Peter Cannon, Thunderbolt ?

(Spoilers for, all of the Peter Cannon stories basically)

While there’s been a lot of discussion around the Gillen/Wijngaard 2019 mini and it is, easily, the best comic made with the character and one I’d heartily recommend to everyone, I’m instead gonna be talking more here about Peter Cannon the character, who turned out to be a much more fascinating rabbit hole of information to dive into than I’d expected. Much like his stolen costume implies, Cannon is a character of dualities and contradictions.

Peter Cannon is actually owned by the estates of Pete Morisi, his original creator. In other words, it's a creator-owned superhero from an era which tended to have the rights consumed by the corporate bodies. When you compare and contrast to Watchmen's eventual fate, that's a fun one for me to think about - Kieron Gillen

He is not just another Charlton survivor drastically altered and fragmented by the Watchmen cataclysm: he is this epistolary composite of several different characters and ideas in conversation with each other, characters whose legal rights and defining traits are all over the place and still kind of building up on each other even now. He is, simultaneously, more fragmented than his Charlton brothers, and yet the only one who’s been able to remain consistent over the decades. Peter’s roots go back further than theirs, even though he is currently exiled from the universe they’ve been relocated to, a state of affairs that in some ways makes it so that he is, at once, more trapped under Watchmen’s shadow, as well as more free from it.

He's like a weird game of telephone that started in the crudest beginnings of the Golden Age superheroics, and with at least one touchstone every couple of decades all the way until today (he got a new series announced this year even), with different characters all inspired by each other and ripping off each other to various degrees existing separately across 80+ years, each belonging to different rights holders and universes, oscilating wildly in popularity, influence, and just how much they have in common with each othe, but still telling a long-running story as if they were one and the same, which they are and aren’t.

We have the original sources (and ensuing riffs or public-domain usages of said sources), the creation of knock-off created due to licensing issues who’d become an established character in his own right, different attempts at remixing the source ingredients ultimately creating knock-off of a knock-off, the badboy knock-off of the original knock-off who’d catch on with the times and go on to be massively popular, and then things would break down as said knock-offs start to congeal together in fragmented mirror freakshows of each other that have to exist together and who knows what’ll happen from there.

Or, I guess to try and put it more simply,

-cough-

Cannon’s even had more than a couple of separate “universes” and superhero casts built around him, by virtue of the fact that his comics cannot have access to the actual Charlton supporting cast, so they have to fill in for stand-ins, and because he’s under that pulp/public domain zone, his comic runs don’t really have any continuity with each other, except they kind of do, because they are all building up on each other even if just thematically. The Cannon Canon is rather limited, and every writer who tackles the character has had to go back and dig into the prior runs to find.

Peter Cannon being several entities in one isn’t even just a facet of their turbulent publishing history, it’s an aspect that’s actually made it’s way into their stories proper. The 90s DC run established that Peter is the reincarnation of the monastery’s greatest hero Varja (a misspelling of vajra, a divine weapon/tool which symbolizes the properties of a thunderbolt). The 2012 run took a plot point from the classic run that was Peter’s manifesting a life-like dragon illusion to scare a villain into retreating (and how that ended up foretelling Ozymandias’ whole “world peace through giant squid attack” plan), and made the storyline about how Peter Cannon-Thunderbolt and The Dragon, the world-conquering threat he called upon to defeat and enact a benign version of Veidt’s plan, were one and the same. And the 2019 run had Peter’s development born from encounters with two separate versions of himself: Thunderbolt, the Ozymandias stand-in who’s been repeating alien genocides across worlds for 30 years in the hopes of it eventually working, and Pete Cannon, a professor who lives a fulfilling human life in a world without superheroes.

Peter Cannon is Bill Everett’s Amazing-Man using Daredevil’s costume and setting (said Daredevil would go on to appear again and again Death-Defying Devil and any number of different names the character’s appeared under because his original name is taken and his characterization can be anything). Peter Cannon is Thunderbolt. He is The Dragon. He is Iron Fist, who is another rich white blonde masked adventurer/vigilante/martial artist rework of Everett’s Amazing-Man. He is Adrian Veidt, who is Ozymandias. He is Thunderbolt from another world, who is Peter Cannon as well as Ozymandias and Dr Manhattan. He is Pete Cannon. He will probably be something else in the near future as well, as a response to the world around him.

His original 60s stories capitalized on the increasing interest in martial arts and martial arts philosophies, the perpetual Western fascination with buddhism and Tibet and love of orientalist tropes that had taken on, shall we say more benign forms, compared to the early 1910s or 1930s, with Peter Cannon being both the ultimate White Savior, as well as someone who wants nothing whatsoever to do with said “whiteness” and the world outside of the monastery, and that being such an inescapable aspect of his entire backstory and make-up, that it forces writers into a dilemma as to how they deal with it, and thus, find ways to make it workable. His 90s run was heavily focused on post-Cold War politics, Peter’s PTSD as well as reworking him into a better, more compassionate hero as a response to Ozymandias as well as working with the idea that Peter would eventually go on to join the DCU, which didn’t happen. The 2012 series takes a broader focus on disarmament and recontextualizing the character, and the 2019 series is pointedly about a lot of things and many of them have to do with Watchmen and the broader superhero genre, but also where Peter stands in said genre and world, what is it that this character speaks to or about.

What fascinates me is how utterly reluctant Peter Cannon is to get involved. He mostly wants to chill with his best mate, Tabu. Stories are often about the push and pull between Peter Cannon (who wants to just study the ancient scrolls and be left alone) and Tabu (who wants him to go and be the Superhero Thunderbolt.) This happens again and again through the run, almost to the point of comedy. It's rare that you see a superhero who needs as much pushing to do something.

He’s like a more responsible early Peter Parker. Actually, he’s like if Peter Parker had better ethics and morals. And with Tabu it’s like Uncle Ben never died.

The push and pull between Peter Cannon the man and Thunderbolt the hero is the interesting weird part of it. We're led to someone who's Sherlock-Holmes smart, with a similar distance, but has nothing but contempt for the world's mainstream civilizations. Why be a superhero when this is the world he's protecting? At the same time he doesn't - as Ozymandias did in Watchmen - fall into the trick of believing just because he knows more he gets to tear it all down.

It’s to some degree close to the trope of the white savior, but rather than someone like, say, Iron Fist, the interesting thing is Peter Cannon literally has not earned it. He’s not the best or anything else. He didn’t choose his path. He knows he’s not worthy. He’s an apex human, but he’s an apex human because of this other civilization that is better than we are.

If you ask 99 out of 100 superhero comic fans to tell you something about Peter Cannon, they’ll say inspiration for Ozymandias. You can’t avoid that. As a device to talk about influence and how comics change, with Peter Cannon you cannot avoid the ghost of Ozymandias.

But it has to be bigger than that - Kieron Gillen on Thunderbolt

I find it interesting also how Peter’s personality contrasts with what he is, what makes him more interesting than the typical white savior. He didn’t find a magical monastery amidst general globetrotting, he wasn’t rescued and taught magic martial arts and decided to use them to go and fight crime, he quite literally had no choice in the matter. He was born in the monastery (or taken there as a 6-month old baby), his parents died due to a plague he just barely survived, and he was raised by monks for 20 years and decreed to be The Chosen One (whether by the sheer improbability of his arrival and survival there, or as a gesture of honor toward his parents), and then instructed to return home and help others in his native land, a land he had no memory or fondness or any attachment for.

He grew up in a fantasy land of great knowledge and compassion and magic that was constantly targeted by a rotten and corrupt outside world trying to destroy and plunder it it, and then he was ordered as an adult to go live in that rotten and corrupt world and fix it because it’s where he comes from, having superheroism thrust upon him by no choice of his own. The rest of the world looks at him with awe and wonder and fear because he’s a Great Man capable of impossible things, things that to him are basic and banal and things he hasn’t really mastered as much as he could or should. At the same time he complains about the world outside home, he’s also driven to prove himself, to live up to his calling as The Chosen One, and it sucks. Being The Chosen One sucks for him, sucks in general, and it’s what he is. I think there’s a lot of potential to a superhero take on The Chosen One that fully explores just how awful that trope is and how disastrous it could be to said hero (Griffith from Berserk is one example of that)

It’s an interesting position he’s coming from as to why he’s a reluctant hero, why he’s so removed from his call. Even before Ozymandias, there's an aspect of Peter Cannon's core concept that makes him feel indeed like he's being more forced into heroism than anything and that, under different circumstances, it wouldn’t take much to push him into villain territory to begin with. Which is why his runs are so preoccupied with Cannon’s humanity, Cannon’s connections to the people around him, and Tabu specifically, that make him human. It’s where this impossible superhuman genius Great Man with the world on his shoulders, trying to navigate an impossible position with catastrophic room for error, with such proven potential for darkness, gets to breathe easy and find help, remember that saving the world is never a one-person job and that he is not alone.

I love how this is consistently where all three of his last major runs have ended on, in the 90s with his growing humanity and friendship with Tabu, in the 2012 mini where Tabu and the Charlton stand-ins come to save him at the end, and in the 2019 mini where he is forced to acknowledge his own failings, his own self-described lack of personhood and the consequences of a genius far removed from humanity making decisions for it, so that he might overcome them and grow into a better man and friend, and that’s how we end with this,

some 60 or 80+ years of storytelling for this character, and the other characters he’s been, somehow forming a remarkably coherent character arc through it all and a promising future, or at least, the potential for one. Not that this was necessary for reading said run or getting to this moment, but going through the entirety of the Peter Cannon Canon before rereading the 2019 mini definitely gave me much needed context for the character, and also reaffirmed that this kiss, this development of Peter and Tabu’s dynamic? This was a long time coming. Come what may, I’m terribly interested in what else will come out of this strange and fascinating amalgam of comics history (so long as it doesn’t have a certain raccoon man’s name attached to it) and what the future holds for Peter Cannon and whatever else he may be next.

[kozachenko]

[Click for better quality]

Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

[tadpoles-and-daydreams]

A witchcraft basics doc; update, resource call, interest check, and a possible second doc

Bet most of you didn't even know I was working on this >:D

Yes this is a huge post. It's a lot of things.

So, one of my first posts ever on this blog was me mentioning that a friend of mine had NO clue what they were signing up for when asking for the basics of witchcraft. The google doc I wrote took on a life of its own, and the post did as well when people started asking for it. I still plan to tag said people when I post it, assuming they haven't deactivated. The thing is, this doc had become a proper project, and it took a long time for me to have the motivation to work on it again. Now, though, it seems to me like a damn good way to reconnect to my craft after a rut! (which, by the way, is why I've been offline.)

So, my first post back is for a couple of reasons. For one, if you have any resources you'd think would be useful for beginner witches, feel free to shoot me an ask, DM, or comment/reblog on this post! I'll have a list of things I'm putting in the doc (taking recommendations there as well) at the bottom of this post.

The other thing is that I might end up making a second doc, one that's a little less "101" in vibe. It would have a MAJOR MAJOR UPG warning on it, first off, and I'm not sure whether or not I would be marking any UPG either since this would essentially be a second Grimoire/Book of Shadows for me that would be public to others for the sake of sharing information! I can't say I'd call it "advanced witchcraft" by any means, I'm not very fancy lol, but I don't want the basics doc to get too overwhelming. I do, however, want to scream about random witchcraft topics that interest me. So this is also a bit of an interest check for that, as well as the basics doc.

FINAL NOTE: I fully plan on posting this basics doc before it's done. Some sections will be unwritten or unfinished, because if I wait until I find it "finished" I'll never post it. It's going to be added onto whenever I can, but I feel as though getting it out is the best course of action.

A list of stuff in the doc that I'd take resources on (AKA everything planned in it) with * by anything that will be left unwritten/unfinished on purpose until I know more. I will take resources and recommendations on EVERYTHING though. This is in no particular order:

grounding and centering

VOCAB (intention, intuition, UPG/SPG/VPG, appropriation. probably others I'm forgetting.

candle, plant, crystals and safety* (as well as any other tools one might need safety tips for. This is left completely unwritten as I use very few tools of this type.)

deity work* (the whole debate surrounding when to start, as well as information about it. Will include smth about house rules/boundaries. My work is very casual, I'd love to see different POV's of this! This is by nature left unfinished because deity work is so unique to the witch.)

grimoire/book of shadows

tools of the craft* (common tools and how to use them consumerism in witchcraft, etc.)

cleansing

appropriation* (I don't know near enough about this, I just check what's in my own practice. I would like this to include a list of commonly appropriated closed practices, a definition of appropriation and why it shouldn't be done, open pantheons, and common open practices.)

spellwork*

meditation

where someone could go from here* (including sigils, tarot, crystals bc my friend likes rocks lol, maybe astrology but oh god I have nothing about that it makes my brain hurt just looking at an astrology chart /pos. I will probably make a list of stuff that I could add in this section.)

casual/daily/quick/low energy practices and witchcraft

paganism and witchcraft; overlap, what they are individually, why one might be for you rather than the other, etc.*

there'd be a credit section for anyone who wants to be credited for links/resources at the end! If you send me resources plz specify if you want to be included in that or not.

Things I might include in the second doc if I make it:

the craft and mental health and my experiences with it

things commonly touched on in the community (your deities don't hate you, cycles of inactivity and burnout, other things I'm forgetting rn)

deity-specific things, more specific topics of the craft, etc. yet another reminder that this would all include UPG, possibly unmarked, because it would basically be primarily used to give me motivation to research more.

[whatwouldsylwrite]

A lil thought for ya: reader getting Abby flowers to congratulate her on winning a hockey game and Abby getting all emotional because she's never gotten flowers before and it makes her feel all special and cared for by her sweet lil gf.

They're super domestic and fluffy in this <3 I'm sorry it took so long, but it just fitted so perfectly after the last chapter because of course reader'd want to do something nice for abby for her first post-recovery game

Abby was finally back on ice after a month of recovery. Her ankle still hurt a little, but she was so eager to be back she sometimes overworked herself - Abby wanted to be in the best form possible before she'd go on ice. It obviously resulted in restless evenings when you'd have to give her painkillers and make her put the brace back so her ankle would rest in a proper position. 

Somewhere inside Abby expected you to treat her like a child and scold her, but you never told her off, not taking away her responsibility for her own health. It felt good to have a partner who knew the line between care and patronising. 

Today was going to be challenging, their opponents were one of the strongest teams in the tournament, and Abby was nervous.

"Fuck. I can't fucking-" Abby swore as she was looking for her socks. 

"What are you looking for?" You asked from the kitchen where you were drinking tea. It was Saturday, and you got to wake up later than Abby who had a morning practice before the game. 

"The blue socks. Oh for fuck's sake." Abby was frustrated, and you picked up on it, immediately leaving your tea and coming to Abby. 

"Hey. You need to take a breath." You held her hands, stopping her from any movement to bring her back. "In and out, come on."

Abby closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calming herself down. She was spiralling and she needed to stop it. 

"I'll look for your blue socks and you go finish my tea, okay?"

Abby nodded and went to the kitchen, still taking some deep breaths: she was getting too worked up. Abby was scared of fucking up today, and it was driving her crazy. She sipped your tea, making herself slow down and just vibe while you were looking for her socks. Abby was sure they were in some obvious place, but her mind just couldn't register them. 

You came back, holding not only her blue socks but also a hairbrush.

"I'll do your hair. Sit."

"What would I do without you?" Abby asked, genuinely thankful as she sat down on a chair, giving you all the control over her hair. If Abby did her hair herself she'd probably get frustrated again with how imperfect it'd look, but it was you doing it so it couldn't be imperfect by design.

"Spiral, lash out on someone and then slam a lot of people into the boards." You shrugged playfully as you braided her hair. 

"Oh fuck you." Abby laughed and you laughed too, kissing her head. 

"It's the first game, you're nervous, of course your head is not in the right place. But I know you'll kick their asses and win tonight. I've seen you practise, you're going to be magnificent." 

Abby pretended she didn't blush from your words, but it warmed her heart. Your support meant a lot to her, and knowing you had her back made her feel safe and calm.

Eric can scream and get punched in the face afterwards, but as long as Abby knew she'd come back to your gentle embrace and soft kisses, she could care less. 

The practice was going well and Abby felt her anxiety going away and letting her competitiveness take hold. She felt powerful, her confidence coming back. Abby was the strongest player in the whole fucking tournament and she was going to prove it. They were going to win and she'd show everyone that the injury wasn't holding her back and she'd still kick everyone's asses even with a weak ankle. 

Boys felt confident too, hyped up as they skated to their positions for the puck drop. Abby quickly looked at the benches to find you and you waved and smiled at her, showing thumbs up. Oh, Abby was definitely going to win when her cutest number one fan was rooting for her. 

The puck dropped and Abby skated immediately, taking it away from her opponents. She felt ruthless and dangerous, not letting anyone get in her way. Abby definitely ignored the pain in her ankle, too high on adrenaline, as she scored again and again. She felt fucking all-powerful, like she could do anything right now. 

"What the fuck, Abby? Are you on fucking drugs today?" Manny said during the first break, laughing, surprised how well Abby was playing.

"(Y/n) is right there man, I can't lose today." Abby chuckled and chugged her water. "She braided my hair so I'm like. Blessed. You know what I mean?" 

"Like you have a lucky charm?" Manny helped. 

"Yeah." Abby smiled, refusing to get embarrassed of how sappy she was.

"You're a fucking simp, Anderson."

"I fucking am." Abby agreed and looked in your direction.

You were in her hoodie (your hoodie now, based on how often you wore it), you hair in a braided halo and you were looking back at her, smiling. Abby felt herself melt and turn into a soft pile of goo, your cute smile and cute up-do just evaporating her "don't fuck with me or I'll kill you" vibe.

"Oh god do I look the same when I look at my girl?" Manny asked with disgust as he watched Abby drool in your direction.

"You look worse." Abby's attitude came back and she was cool and stoic and hot again. "Remember when I had to close your mouth that one time when your weather girl wore a mini skirt?" 

Manny flipped her and they went back on ice, prepared to tear their opponents to shreds. The game was challenging and it wasn't easy to score, Abby got body checked a few times, but she enjoyed the game so much she thought they should ask their rival team for a friendly match after, because they were actually good.

The final horn rang, ending the game with 4:3 and Abby smirked, smug, as she skated back to her team. They won. The fucking won. Take that, Eric, Abby was the best even while she was still recovering. They shook hands with their opponents, thanked them for a game - and today thanks were actually genuine - and went to the players' benches to rest a little and go home. 

Abby took her helmet off as she was stopping before the exit and when she lifted her head back, she noticed you standing right at the exit, congratulating her teammates, hugging Manny. Abby rushed to you, excited, hugging you right away and lifting you up so she could kiss you. She knew she was cold, but she also knew you didn't mind.

"Congratulations." You whispered in her mouth with a sweet smile on your face, your eyes twinkling with love. "You were glorious."

"It's because you're my good luck charm." You giggled and blushed, and Abby just stared at you.

"Stop I'll literally barf." Ellie said behind your back and Abby let you go to hug Ellie next. "You're a fucking beast, Anderson."

"Thanks." Abby chuckled. "We're going to celebrate tonight. You coming?"

"You know I do." Ellie smirked and left you two alone as boys already went to the lockers. 

"I've got something for you." You said and quickly grabbed something from the bench. "Congratulations on the win."

Abby stared at your hands, her chest suddenly tight with emotions. You held a big colourful bouquet to her, filled with different flowers Abby probably didn't even know the names of. Abby took them carefully, still staring at them, absolutely dumbfounded. 

"Thank you." Abby said in a soft voice, getting shy. 

The last time someone got her flowers was when she was a child and was winning her first games: her father always made sure to give her flowers. Her previous partners just assumed that if she was more dominant it meant she didn't want this kind of attention, and it wasn't like she gave it too much thought, not really understanding the whole idea of flower giving. 

But right now Abby felt fucking butterflies in her stomach as she shyly smelled the bouquet, stealing glances at you. She felt giddy and couldn't control her smile even if she tried to suppress it, embarrassed by how plainly happy the flowers made her feel. Now Abby understood what you meant when you said she made you feel like a lady, because right now Abby felt like a fucking princess in front of her knight. You smiled at her, pleased, and Abby blushed more. 

"They're very pretty." Abby murmured as she looked over the bouquet. 

You smiled and Abby smiled back, her cheeks red, and you watched how delighted she was with your little gift, absolutely enamoured with her.

"Do you want me to take them so you can change?" You asked, but for some reason you knew she didn't.

"No." Abby said quickly and held the flowers closer to herself just as you did on your first date, protecting them.

"You're so cute." You chuckled and kissed Abby on the cheek.

"I'm not." Abby said, but you weren't convinced when she stood there, 6 feet of pure muscle and strength, holding a bouquet so gently like it could break, her cheeks pink, looking like a school girl. It was just so endearing and you kissed her again, basking in her.

Abby giggled when your prepped her face with little kisses and glanced at you bashfully, so in love with you she felt like she could explode right there.

"Yes, you are." You said teasingly and Abby just huffed at you. "I like it. I'll give flowers every day if it means you'll look so happy." You murmured as you stroke Abby's jaw on both sides and she rolled her eyes affectionately, still trying to appear cool and confident.

"Maybe every week?" Abby said playfully, but you caught on it.

"Every week then."

And you were true to your promise.

[jeewrites]

Hold Fast | Ch. 1 Will Squat for Dinner

Series Master List

Inspo: In an IG reel @ tashabraziliano asks a guy at the gym to play a game where if she squats him he has to buy her dinner at Nando’s.

Rating: M for this one shot, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

A/N: Thank you to @bloviating-vy for being my beta and my write or die! Grateful to everyone who voted in my poll and @katareyoudrilling for encouraging me to post. In the Hold Fast AU all the guys make it back from S. America, additional details TBD if this ends up being a series

Word Count: ~4.0k

Tags: no y/n, gymbff!Benny, alcohol, swearing, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), alcohol, brief body insecurity and Frankie being down on himself, Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, alternating POV with one brief Benny POV

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The first time you went to train at Pope's Gym, Benny wouldn’t stop talking your ear off during your workout. When you finally got a word in edgewise, you made a bet with him that if you could squat him, he would shut the fuck up and let you finish your workout in peace. To his amazement, not only did you squat him, you repped him 3 times before setting him down to raucous applause. You’d been gym besties ever since. It didn’t hurt that he was nice to look at with his dirty blonde hair and penchant to go sans shirt so he could flaunt his abs as frequently as possible. Plus, his big golden retriever energy never failed to brighten your day.

Benny liked to tease you about the gym you used to go to that had vanity lighting, a smoothie bar, and chilled eucalyptus-scented towels. While Pope's had the most lifting platforms of any gym in town, you were adjusting to the lack of central A/C and other amenities you were used to. Pope’s was housed in a large warehouse space, bare metallic bones, with multiple commercial rolling doors instead of a proper HVAC system. Besides the rows upon rows of platforms, a selection of assault bikes and ergs lined one wall of the gym, while a section of accessory machines collected dust in the corner.

You learned which platforms got the most airflow depending on which rolling door was open and which ones the massive fans covered best. You had made the switch because you had outgrown your old gym which catered to the general public. The bougie public, Benny liked to remind you. You had started lifting heavy and wanted to lift heavier, so you found yourself signing up at Pope's after Pope himself had given you the tour around the space. You learned that Pope had started the gym after coming back from Colombia wanting to promote health and strength in the community while getting into better shape himself. Looking at the peach shape of his ass you could bounce anything off of, you knew Pope had been putting the work in.

Benny worked the front desk at Pope's between training and fighting MMA. His older and blonder brother Will would come by to work out, but he was often leaving when you were arriving so you didn't know him well beyond a friendly wave. Plus, it seemed like Benny used the majority of the word quota between the Miller brothers. Pope's grew on you and you got to know the regulars who trained the same time you did; enough that you gave them cute identifying nicknames in your head (often without knowing their actual names) and worried about them when they missed more than a session or two.

Benny was surprised to see you walk into Pope's one night an hour before closing since you always trained in the mornings. You had given him a short head nod instead of your usual big smile before stalking to a platform and slamming your bag down.

"Yooooo, everything ok?" he asks as he walks over.

"Does it look like I'm okay," you huff, aggressively wrestling your knee sleeves on. Glancing at him, you immediately apologize when he hesitates and takes a step back.

"Sorry, Benny. I'll be a lot better after I pick up some heavy things and put them down."

"Might help if you want to talk about it?" he ventures leaning against the barbell.

You finish tying your squat shoes before looking at him again with dejected eyes and sighing.

"I just went on a crappy date with a guy from one of those dating apps," you sigh again. "He spent the whole time talking about himself and how much he works out. Then he had the fucking audacity to question me when he asked how much I could lift."

"Fucking asshole!" Benny feels himself getting steamed.

"He just stormed out of the restaurant and left me with the bill when I refused to change my answer," you shrug, but Benny sees your jaw tick. "Apparently, I squat and deadlift more than he does and he couldn't date someone who could do that." You roll your eyes and huff.

"WTF! What a total loser. You don't need a guy like that who doesn't appreciate you," Benny replies incensed. He sees your face fall for a moment, eyes downcast and tight.

"I just — I've been trying to put myself out there again and it sucks," you mumble, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's also been kinda lonely since I moved here, and I guess I could just use more friends, too."

"I'M YOUR FRIEND!"

"Yeah, my gym friend! We don't do anything outside of this hot, sweaty box Benny," you remind him with a small smile and playful shove to get him off your barbell.

Benny decides this is completely unacceptable and immediately remedies this by inviting you to the next hangout with him and his ex-Delta Force friends at Redfly's, a local bar nearby. "You know Pope and Will already," he reassures, "Tom's the owner of the bar and he's an asshole, but he's our asshole. And there's Catfish — we call him Fish for short. We've been trying to get him to come work out here, but he's been busy with his new pilot job for the hospital. And he shares custody of his 3-year-old daughter with his ex."

He could see your brain turning over all the information he was throwing at you. You don't seem to react either way to the news that Fish has an ex and a daughter. As you adjust the bar height you respond, "You sure? Don't want to crash a regular thing that you have with your guys."

"Nah, it'll be great! They'll love you!" Benny's determined to get you to come.

You hand him your phone. "Well... okay. Text me the details?"

With your phone in hand, Benny puts his number in to text himself and then convinces you to show him your dating profile. Between sets of squats you both take turns swiping on possible matches, Benny teasing you on your picks. Ever observant, Benny notices your preference for profiles with tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed candidates. As you work through your next set, Benny sneaks his phone out and immediately texts Fish.

Redfly's was what you expected for a bar run by an ex-delta force asshole. Dimly lit, buncha mismatched tables and chairs, lots of dark grain wood, and an air of neglect despite being quite clean. It was mostly empty except for a few grizzled guys who screamed regulars, nursing beers at the bar. Lots of beers on tap, but not so much for cocktail options. Not that you were a big drinker anyway. If anything, all the training made you an extremely cheap date. But damn, if you were going to drink, you wanted it to be a solid cocktail.

"THERE SHE IS!" Benny bounds over to you before grabbing your hand and dragging you over to the table in the corner. He introduces you to Tom who was standing by the table chatting with the guys. Tom gives a half-hearted greeting before stalking off back to the bar. Pope gives you a big smile and hug, "Good to see you hermosa, don't mind Tom. That was downright friendly for him." You snort as you settle into your seat next to Pope. Will also greets you with a small wave and an offer to pour you a beer from the pitcher.

"That's okay, I'm not much of a beer drinker." You wince, wrinkling your nose.

"I thought you said she was cool," Pope teases Benny who rolls his eyes and looks at you with faux betrayal.

"How about I buy shots for the table? Would that make me cool?" you smirk, getting up to go to the bar.

"Only if I get one too," says a warm, baritone voice from behind you. A tall, handsome man slides into the last vacant seat across from yours. Soft brown curls threaten to escape the Standard Oil cap nestled on his head. The warmest brown eyes smile at you as he holds your surprised gaze. "Hi, I'm Fish. Sorry, 'm late."

You want to trace the golden skin stretched deliciously along the column of his neck. Run your fingers through those curls that look so, so incredibly soft. And the strong curve of his nose... You snap out of your reverie before you respond with your name. "Better get those shots then," you say, trying not to trip over your unexpectedly shaky legs. Holy shit, why the fuck didn't Benny mention his friend Fish was gorgeous?

When Benny bugged him to come to the Friday night hangout at Redfly’s, Frankie hadn’t given it a second thought. The exuberant text from Benny, “You coming this week right? Got someone from Pope’s coming to meet you guys!!!” had two too many exclamation points for his taste. He figured Benny had a new lifting partner he wanted the guys to meet and his attendance had been pretty spotty between the new EMS pilot gig and balancing shared custody with Vanessa.

So when he walked into Redfly’s and overheard you say “… shots for the table?” He just assumed Tom had finally hired some help in the form of a very cute new waitress.

It wasn’t until he asked the guys when Tom hired you, eyes not leaving your form as you walked away, did he realize the absolute error in his assumption. “That’s my friend from the gym, Fish. SHE’s from Pope’s,” Benny rolled his eyes.

“C’mon hermano, you know Tom’s too cheap to hire help and too much of a pendejo for help to stick around,” Pope added.

Frankie pulled his cap low over his eyes and slid down his seat. He could feel himself flush. Fuck, he thought. Just made an ass out of myself demanding a shot from a total stranger.

You had frozen for a moment after he introduced himself before offering your name with a bit of a grimace. He thought you were gorgeous though and smelled incredible, fresh and citrusy with hints of something sweet and floral that lingered even after you had walked away.

“So, whaddya think, Fish?” Benny prods. "She’s smart, pretty, super strong, and a total sweetheart. Should ask her out."

Frankie flushes a deeper red. “S’outta my league Benny.”

“Aw, c’mon Fish, you gotta get back out there,” Benny persists. "Made it easy for you too. I happen to know you’re exactly her type."

“What, she into out of shape, 40-year-old, divorced, single dads with a toddler?” Fish grumbles. He hadn’t dressed particularly well tonight either, just his usual worn khakis and old faded navy t-shirt. Hadn’t suspected Benny was going to try to set him up tonight, although with Benny you never knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Might’ve mentioned summa that to her. She didn’t even blink, Fish. You got a shot and you should take it.”

Frankie finally tears his eyes away from you. You had just said something that made Tom smile ever so briefly and he wanted to know what you said. Frankie didn’t even realize Tom smiled anymore.

He sees Pope giving Benny that look that said Pope knew Frankie was indeed interested in you, but needed some extra encouragement and to get out of his head. How a single look conveyed all of that spoke to the years and shit they’d all been through together.

“Gonna help her bring over the drinks,” Benny says, popping out of his chair before Frankie could tell him to keep his big mouth shut.

He lifts his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t even tried to comb his fucking hair before coming out tonight. He slides the cap back on hoping it catches the more unruly curls.

“You’re a total catch, Fish,” Pope says, pouring him a beer. “Don’t count yourself out before even shooting your shot.”

“Could just be a coffee date. Don’t overthink it,” Will seconds.

Frankie takes a big pull of his beer. Easy for these two to say. Both Pope and Will worked out regularly at the gym and had the physiques to show for it. As much as Frankie had insisted everyone needed to get back on their game when they got back from Colombia, he was the only one out of the five of them who hadn't.

At least it didn’t feel like it with his achy back and bad knees. Sure, he had finally gotten his pilot’s license reinstated and now shared custody of his daughter. But he was self-conscious of his soft stomach, especially next to Benny whose abs were definitely the example given in the dictionary next to “rock-hard.” What did he have to offer you besides a mountain of baggage and PTSD? Maybe if he just kept his mouth shut everything would be fine and he’d survive tonight without embarrassing himself.

At this point, you are willing to brave Tom the asshole to collect yourself before sitting across from Frankie and his big brown eyes again. Tom raises an eyebrow when you order six shots ("One's for you asshole," you say to Tom with a teasing glare) and ask if he could make an Aviation. You swear he gives you the faintest smile before grumbling about ridiculous froufrou cocktails, but he wasn't born yesterday and yes he could make you one.

Benny sidles up to you at the bar as you wait for Tom to finish making your drink, offering to help you carry the drinks back to the table. "You doing ok? You seem nervous," Benny observes as you tap your fingers on the bar.

"Why didn't you warn me Fish is fucking hot?" you pointedly whisper back.

Benny grins at you as he leans back on his elbows against the bar, "Fucking knew it. Totally thought he'd be your type, girlie."

"You trying to set us up??" you glare at him.

Benny shrugs with exaggerated innocence. "Maaaaybe."

You huff, "Does he know that? Am I even his type?" You cringe inwardly at your insecurity.

"Well considering he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you left the table makes me think you are," Benny smirks. The smug look stays on his face.

For once you're glad you took more than five minutes to put yourself together before walking out the door. You picked a pair of jeans that hugged your curves and a fitted top with a very complementary neckline. Black-heeled booties gave you a few inches and made your legs look longer than they were. Worth the hassle of walking in at least for one night. The lightest dusting of make-up, mostly eyeliner and glossy lip balm, highlights your facial features.

"So maybe I should shoot my shot then, hmm?" you wink at Benny with a knowing smile.

"If you're thinking what I'm thinking…," Benny grins thinking back on the day you two met.

"That's very purple," Fish observes as you and Benny set down the drinks for the table.

"It's an Aviation. You might like it considering you're a pilot, mmh?" you respond with a smile. Okay, you've collected yourself. Sort of. Let's see if you remember how this flirting thing goes.

"What are we taking shots to celebrate?" Pope asks.

"How about to new, strong, friends?" you quip.

"I'll cheers to that!" Benny raises his glass.

Conversation is light and fun with the guys. You marvel at their connection and closeness as they teased and talked like people who have been through some shit together over the years. You convince Fish to try the Aviation to which he declares it a "very fancy purple" and keeps sneaking sips much to your amusement. They fold you into their conversation, asking about your training, and what competitions you might try this season. They praise Pope about how the gym has flourished and rib him about his ever-revolving door of beautiful women.

"What about you, Fish? You thinking about getting back out there and dating?" Benny asks before flicking his eyes over to you. You remind yourself to thank Benny profusely for being the best wingman ever.

"'Dunno. Not sure where to even start," Frankie mumbles into his beer, casting his eyes down.

"I have an idea," you give Frankie your best coy smile.

"Yeah?" he breathes looking up at you. Those damn brown eyes.

"I have a game for you," you offer before taking a breath. “If I squat you, you get to buy me dinner.” Your heart is thrumming in your chest and you feel your cheeks flush, but damnit, you were going to shoot your fucking shot. "But if I can rep you, I want the whole nine yards. Pick me up at my place, flowers, dinner and dessert."

"You — you think you can squat me?" Fish looks a bit surprised, "I— it's, it's not that I don't think you can. But 'm... A lot bigger than you... 'm out of shape." His ears pink at the last part as he cups one hand over the back of his neck.

"I know I can. Do we have a deal?" you smile at him with encouragement and extend your hand across the table. Fish hesitates, but you try not to assume why.

"Jesus, Fish, if you don't take her up on it, I will," Pope winks at you.

Fish glances between you and Pope for a brief moment.

He reaches out and shakes your hand. "Okay, deal." You try not to get distracted by the way his large hand engulfs yours.

"Let's go, brown eyes," you tell him as you stand up from your chair and whip your hair up into a high ponytail.

"You're going to do this in heels?" Fish asks as he gets up from his chair with a grunt. Christ, he's so tall. And broad. You shrug and look up at him through your lashes, “I mean, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”

You move so you stand with your side towards his front.

“I'm going to put my hand here,” you gesture to his right inner thigh just above the knee. "Is that okay?"

"Yep."

"Alright, you ready?"

He nods.

You carefully slump him over your shoulders in a fireman's carry, gripping tightly to his upper arm and thigh. You can feel the warmth of his body pressed deliciously across your shoulders. He's so warm.

You brace.

Benny's out of his seat, whooping and hollering. Pope's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, clapping, "Let's go, let's go!" Will's grinning and shaking his head in amusement. The regulars at the bar sneak glances over in your direction.

Frankie catches himself remarking on the particular shade of purple out loud when you return to the table with Benny bearing shots and a suspiciously purple beverage. He realizes after you respond and the dazzling smile you give him that you’re flirting with him. He thinks?? He’s so out of practice. God, he’d do anything for you to smile at him like that again.

When you slide your drink over to him to try he surprises himself by taking a sip. He’s even more surprised that he likes it. Crisp juniper dances across his tongue followed by a delicate floral sweetness and a touch of citrus with a spiced cardamom and anise finish. This very purple drink tastes the way you smell. And the giggle you give him when he calls it a “very fancy purple” blooms warmth through him, settling low in his core. He can only think about how he can elicit that sound from you again.

Which is how he misses Benny asking him if he’s thinking about getting back out there and dating. Fucking Benny and his goddamn big mouth.

But then you’re smiling at him again, telling him, single-dad, divorcee Francisco Morales, you have an idea. He’s looking at you and he can barely breathe as your eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint and your plush, glossy lips propose a game.

For a moment he’s confused. Did you not want to go out to dinner with him? Because if he’s honest, he doesn’t think you could squat him. He’s so much bigger than you. And he’s pretty sure if he tried, he could put you in his pocket. But then you’re brimming with confidence and extending your hand out to strike a deal.

It’s when Pope — fucking Pope — threatens to play your game in his place that Frankie is engulfing your delicate hand in his large one. You surprise him with a firm handshake and it’s then that he can feel the callouses across your palm. Callouses from many, many reps with the barbell.

Frankie finds himself towering over you, realizing you’re about to try and squat him in heeled booties. He vaguely hears you ask for consent to touch his inner thigh just above his knee before he finds himself suspended horizontally in the air across a set of firm shoulders, anchored by two small hands. He can feel when you brace, feel your entire core expand. The muscles across your shoulders and back flex underneath your fitted top. And suddenly he’s moving up and down, steadily with control.

You end up squatting Fish five times before setting him back down gently with a breathless giggle. He's towering over you again and you just want to press yourself into his broad chest and envelope yourself in the smell of his body wash.

"Dinner?" you smirk up at him.

"Wow, yeah, dinner on me," Fish flushes, impressed and a little dazed.

"It's a date then," you quip, poking him in the rib before you sit back down at the table. You notice his brown eyes spark with realization at your comment.

Will, Benny, and Pope all high-five you. Cheeks still pink, Fish pulls his chair around to sit closer to you. Tom wanders back over to the table grumbling that Redfly's isn't that kind of establishment with theatrics like you just pulled. But he also sets down an Aviation along with another pitcher of beer before returning to the bar.

"He's just jealous you didn't try to squat him," Benny laughs. You giggle in response as the conversation around the table picks back up.

Feeling Fish's gaze on you, you slide your cocktail over to him. A frisson of electricity shoots up your entire arm when his fingers brush against yours as he takes your cocktail glass.

You tilt your head towards him, your eyes meeting his warm brown ones, and whisper, "By the way, my favorite flowers are dahlias."

Frankie lost count by the time you repped him the third time. Just awed by you having the strength to carry him like this. He decides to just enjoy the rest of the ride.

When you set him back upright he almost melts into a puddle at the breathless giggle you let out. He catalogs that sound in his mind. He wants to brush back the hairs that have escaped your ponytail and he already misses your touch, wants to close the space between your bodies somehow without being creepy.

He gets lost in your eyes when you gaze up at him, he’s definitely over a head taller than you, and ask, “Dinner?”

Frankie is pretty sure he responds in the affirmative, still a bit dazed and very impressed.

It’s when you confirm it’s a date that his brain fritzes, reboots, and takes a minute to come back online. He blinks several times at the realization. He has a date. With you.

next chapter>>

Notes: Dahlias symbolize elegance, creativity, positivity, and growth. It also represents inner strength, likely due to the plant's ability to tolerate harsh conditions.

"Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.” — Ann Richards

���🏽 Thank you so much for reading my first fic! I'm bad at tumblr and new to tags/warnings/fan fics in general, so if I missed something please let me know.

I am open to constructive feedback but please be gentle with this baby powerlifting writer, yeah? I might be able to squat you, but I'm a big ol' softie.

Aaand I'm thinking about expanding on these characters and making Hold Fast into a series if anyone would want to read it. I may or may not already have a Frankie POV at Pope's Gym where he gets to see reader in her element. 👀

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held

[campoverlook-if]

Progress Update #9// 10/30/24

Hey everyone, look who's almost a whole month late. Unfortunately, this will not be a post about the demo update. But please don't worry, the project is not being cancelled.

I’ve been holding off on releasing the update because I don’t feel it’s quite ready yet. I really dislike going back on my promises, and I’m genuinely sorry for the delay. But I'm doing this because I feel this will be better for my overall personal process. I've written close to 20k words since the beginning of the month and I just don't want anyone seeing it yet.

Moving forward, I think it would be best to update the demo only once each episode is complete, rather than posting sporadically as I have been. I was so excited to get the story out there with the first episode, but there's so many points that I could have done better if I hadn't put time limits for myself.

So yes, for now on, I'll only update the demo once an episode has been finished. I hope you understand and I appcrecite all the support everyone has given me so far.

With that said, I hope what I say next will be seen as some good news.

I realize I haven’t posted a proper progress report since July, which was around the time I got sick. As I've said before it was just the flu (which I get literally every year), and I'm back to 100% by now. It did make me sluggish for a long while though and I sorta lost my motivation to keep up with the blog.

But, now that I've gotten all this stuff off my chest, I'd really like to go back to those weely updates and go back to answering questions. I'm sorry to everyone who asked if I was okay and didn't get a reply, I was just kinda embarrassed at my long absence to be honest.

That’s all I wanted to share, thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far. I completely understand if anyone is unsure about the future of this project and would prefer to unfollow until it’s closer to being finshed. I worry about its future too, but I'm committed to seeing it through.

Thank you again, and see you all on Monday!

[clownrecess]

Hi! My son (9) uses an AAC device at school to help him communicate and for teachers to communicate with him. Do you have any advice for parents?

I'm sorry if this isnt very organized, I'll just be listing off and talking about what I wish my parents and adults around me did when I first started using AAC.

I also apologize for the kinda sorta late response. I haven't been doing too well lately, and I also wanted to make sure I said everything in this post how I wanted to say it. Those two things combined slowed down the process a bit.

1. AAC is not a language. However, it functions a lot differently than the oral version of the language that is being used at times, and I feel like thats important to recognize. AAC grammar doesn't need to align with "typical" oral grammar or speech patterns. As long as (most) others can understand what's being communicated by the AAC user, trying to get them to add in words like "The" really isn't necessary. Of course if they want to develop more proper grammar and more language that is super cool. But a lot (of course not all!!) of AAC users I've spoken to, including myself, find it really frustrating when people try to slow down and make it harder for us to communicate by adding in extra words. If its understandable, and the user doesn't want to, it isn't necessary (I also do want to add that I personally do use proper grammar most of the time, but a good portion of the time I don't.).

2. "Encourging the user to use their device" does *not* mean ignoring them when they don't, and/or telling them to "use their words". All communication is good communication. Pointing is good. Body language is good. Drawing pictures is good. Etc. Encouraging use of an AAC device in a good way means making sure it is always available, making sure the user knows it is an option, that the user knows how to use it, and that you respect the device *FULLY*.

3. Oral speech should not be the goal unless the AAC user wants it. All communication is equally good, and favoring oral speech is ableism. If the AAC user WANTS to use oral speech, then that is super cool and then there can be a goal of developing and/or improving their oral speech. If they haven't made it clear that it's something that they personally want, don't try to force it.

4. Stickers!! This one is more silly than serious, and of course it's up to the user, but if they want to put stickers on their device, allow it. Its cute!

5. ACCESS TO VOCABULARY IS IMPORTANT. Limiting someones language to "Eat" "Drink" "Bathroom" "Mom" "Dad" "School" or similar is not okay. I've seen someone on YouTube who didn't even let their kid have a "no" button. I fully understand that not everyone is capable of using complex language, and for a lot of AAC users, only having simple words and an easier to navigate (by having less options) device is important. And that is PERFECTLY OKAY!! But what isn't okay, is assuming one is incapable of using more language than "eat" and "drink". If they can not communicate their wants and needs when they understand that, they need more buttons. If that means starting to SLOWLY add a little more, that's okay.

6. Be patient. AAC takes longer to use than oral speech does. Even if the time we are taking is frustrating, don't show that. And yes, this includes guessing out loud what we are going to say by trying to finish our sentence whilst we are still typing (unless the user has expressed this is okay with them.).

7. Make sure teachers and other people know not to take away their AAC device under any circumstances! Doing so is the equivalent to duct taping someones mouth shut or removing their vocal chords. It's scary.

That's all I could think of. If other AAC users (not parents of them, not friends, etc. ONLY AAC USERS) want to comment or reblog with more tips that would be greatly appreciated! <3

[drivestraight]

maxcar!

from here

i think i've basically posted this entire wip in fragments over the past, like, 8 months, with the amount i talk about it but don't write it so. i'll just post a massive part of it:

In Silverstone, Lando crosses the finish line first, takes the fastest lap, and extends his championship lead to a whopping thirty-eight points.

Oscar watches from the Red Bull pitwall, picks at his fingernails, chews the dead skin off his lips. That could’ve been him, if Lando hadn’t shunted him at Copse and sent him flying into the barriers. He didn't trigger the G-force sensors, but he had to get cleared by medical anyway. He feels fine. Physically, that is.

GP puts a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “You’ll get him next week. We’re just happy you’re alright.”

Liam ends up getting a podium. Third place. Every point counts. It’s reason enough that Oscar rallies, finding it in himself to show face at the afterparty, if only for half an hour. He congratulates Liam, and Charles who managed to fight from tenth to second place. He sees Lando, too, but he takes that as a signal he’s been there too long. If they made contact, Lando would probably want to fucking, like, apologize. Which Oscar would be open to, but—it’s not necessary. It’s not something he needs to hear. You’re sorry that you won the race. You’re sorry that you nearly killed me, and you won the race anyway.

Oscar heads to his car, a 2028 Ford GT, gifted by Red Bull. It’s nice, but he still misses his McLaren, sometimes.

The lights are still on when he enters his flat. It’s also midnight. He grabs the leftover pasta he’d made on Thursday, spoons a small portion into a clean bowl from the dishwasher, and heats it up in the microwave. He brings himself, a fork, and his heated food into the sitting room.

“Tough race,” Max says.

He has his blue light glasses on, eyes fixed on the screen, his XBox controller in hand. He’s playing FIFA, of course.

Oscar sighs. “Wasn’t much of a race for me, mate,” he says, because there isn’t much more to say.

Max pauses the match, then glances at Oscar. “Want a drink?”

Oscar makes a humiliating noise: somewhere between a moan and a whimper. “Yes please.”

/

It’s kind of hard, explaining his living situation to other people. On principle, he doesn’t, but one time, when they were visiting the factory, his mum and dad decided to surprise him at his flat, only to walk in on Max nearly burning down the kitchen trying to cook himself eggs. Oscar was blissfully napping on the couch as smoke bloomed through the flat.

The short answer is: they’re roommates. Kind of. During the season, Oscar is really only in the UK when he needs to be, once or twice a week for the most part. He spends the rest of his free time in Monaco.

Max, on the other hand, has been living here—proper living here—since December.

The first day Oscar moved in, Oscar was crouched on the floor, unpacking some of his boxes in his bedroom. He had a short meeting with the team in the morning, and he still had a few hours until his afternoon flight to France, so he decided he might as well set up the place in the meantime.

Then, Oscar heard a key being fitted into the lock, and the door swinging open. Startled, he ran to the front door, and saw Max. In a suit. His shirt was wrinkled and his tie was undone and slung over his nape. He had a single suitcase by his side, his knuckles white around the handle. His eyes were red-rimmed. He looked at Oscar, bit down hard on his bottom lip, and neither of them said anything for a long while.

Oscar had questions. Many of them, but the most important of which was: Aren’t you getting married tomorrow?

Before he got over the shock of seeing Max, before he could even place the words on his tongue, Max blurted, “So. About the flat.”

Well, Oscar thought. No need to fly to France anymore.

[brineoffire]

Uuuuuuh hi, hi howdy! I've been super possessed by the need to see more male centered fics with the poly!141 soooo here's a bit. I honestly haven't played the games, but I've been looking into the lore because I'm so hyper fixed on the 141 rn. Bare with me, I haven't posted fics here before and definitely never written army anything. Please please please lemme know if you like it even a lil and I'll type up some more.

Fic notes!

So I saw someone talking about a reader who's in it for the money and I liked that idea- tweaked it a little but the basic jist? Mc loves vidio games so much they went to school for it, can't pay, joins the military to pay it all off. I'm writing this chapter ambiguous on gender so far, but I'm writing with a trans!masc reader here because fuck. I can't find much so better make it myself.

-Edit I forgot to put the title here rip

The Right Price

You can't help but stop to think about how you needed to stop biting off more then you can chew. It's been a few months since your recruiter told you all about the joys, wonder, and honor that comes with serving. You where in the second she told you about the pay. Too many student loans, too much microwave ramen, the list went on, but fuck it yeah? You where the one that said that in the first place when you signed up for your courses. The basics, programming, coding, digital design a bit of physiology because of personal interest. You where over the top when it came to studies. Didn't bother you none when you couldn't have a social life. If you weren't busy studying you where quite literally inhaling any game you could get your hands on. But now when you had to fork over the bill money? You started singing another tune.

So here you are. On the training grounds with the rest of the folks recruited at the same time as you.Your sargent was barking out orders for you all to start your runs one by one, but some smart ass was holding up the line. You actually agreed with half the shit he barked back at the your troop leader, but damn it, you didn't want the consequences.

"That's it! You wanna run your mouth? You can all run double to catch up with Marco's mouth! Now!" He yelled white fisted. The remaining lot of your groan and grumble, starting the run together now at double time to hopefully finish before lunch call. Seven miles was what you had all gotten used to. Seven miles of uneven terrain, hurdles and dives, inclines and ramps now lengthened to fourteen.

"Oh fuck off Marco!" One of the recruit remarks, smacking said recuit behind the head before taking off on a spint. Several others join in on mocking the guy before bolting trying to get it over with. You shake your head as you catch up to him and clap him on the shoulder.

"They'll chill out later man just gotta grit and bare it more y'know?" Marco yanks was shoulder away from you, giving you a nasty glare before taking off too. You raise your brow at that, curious to what set him off before shrugging, taking the course at your normal pace with a hand full of the others. Better late then fatiged. The little spat dosn't bother you anyway. You'll all be split into your first teams in less then a week. You doubt he'd even be grouped with you anyways.

Oh how wrong you where. How very. Very. Wrong. It was actually laughable at this point, because you where either grouped together because your Sargent knew you got under Marco's skin for some reason or because fate wanted to see the drama unfold. You took that as a personal challenge either way. Snapping back snarky retorts anytime Marco decided to fuck around, until one day he had you cornered with a handful of others, in your face yelling about how "your kind" didn't belong in the military let alone the states. You let him finish his rant. Something, something, something, God damned, something, something, blight all the good christians, something, something, belong in the kitchen like a proper bitch.

Oh. Okay. There it was. You laugh in your head. No. Outloud. You flip the positions, getting uncomfortably close to the fuckers so they back off some and spout of some tibits you learned in your phycology classes about the brain being easy to manipulate. Quiet anger radiating from your low tone, keeping it quiet to force them to listen harder. You throw in some extra bs about how you could probably "turn" the lot of them given enough time. That them speaking more shit would be an agreement for him to test his theory. They back off after that, but report you all at once for "harassment". There being no evidence for anything you're transfered to one of the other split groups. Half made up of people you didn't enlist with. Mabey this crop would yeild better results yeah?

Nah. You jinxed it. You know you did. Oh well. This time it's just one guy though. And all it takes is a bit of reverse phycology to have the guy questioning his own damn identity so bad he's sent to the on duty therapist. You're transfered out this time by a different woman. Laswell. She heard out your full story of your transfers and unlike your last transfer she gave you a garentee that she'd make sure to find a good fit for you. You shrug and thank her. No matter what you had to tough it out anyways, you needed that pay check after all. Had no where else to go.

It goes sour when you head with her to a base near Wales. You where supposed to go talk to her about setting up here overseas for a while. Something about spreading out more newbies anyways. You really don't understand half of it so you just agree and you're off to training on this base. As long as you're here you're expected to keep up with basics and the routine set by the Sargents and that's fine by you, whatever to pass the time at this point. They run a drill with half the team ment to run a faux attack on half the base and the rest made to counter. You're getting prepared to counter the fake attack when alarm bells are ringing. That's definitely a little over the top. Usually they just yell over the loudspeakers and... You kinda blink a few times before you realize your group of rookies is being pressed to the armory. It's not a fucking drill at this point. This is NOT what you came here for but, oh fuck here you go! You've played too many games for sure. Mabey it's time to cut back. Because you're immediately focused. Immediately setting up the scene in your head to get you in a headspace where it's all a game. It helps you focus and damn you really need help with that right now.

There's active rounds being fired a ways away from the base as you all are suited with gear and munitions. You've trained for this but damn if you ever thought you'd ACTUALLY use any of that shit. You always imagined it was for show, like how you never use any of the fucking math they taught you anywhere.

You're moving on a sort of autopilot, moving out to a defensive manuver outside, staying under cover like you're told until your unit arrives halfway out, between the fighting and the base. It's impossible to see much past a thick smoke blanketing half the scene but you all move out, groups of three fanning out for any injuries and more importantly, any hostiles. You and your group are about to get to your second vantage point when you catch something they don't, you call out a group of several hostiles over what looks like a member of the base before realizing there's radio static.

Fuck it. Risking your life might score you some bonus merit, some extra cash somewhere along the line, you don't know. You're just trying to rationalize why the hell you bolt for the man, keeping low, keeping quiet until your almost upon them all. You get close enough to make out the British insignia on the man's arm. You've definitely seen him on the base before, and now here he is, no weapon in sight, surrounded by four hostiles. You slow your approach and aim carefully, making sure to get the kill shot on one of them, the spray of bullets catching another in the arm gives you enough time to aim for one of the other ones. You've definitely played too many vidio games but you're damn sure that's what kept you from being shot on your first unofficial day of active duty. You roll. Fucking barrel roll on the ground, with enough force to get you away from the spray of bullets from the last uninjured hostile as you stop yourself and make the shot on him. Dumb luck is what you chalk it up to as the fourth guy falls, letting you finish off the second man as he scrambles to retrieve his weapon.

"Up! Up! UP!" You yell to the man on the ground. You don't notice the look of utter confusion from the guy as you rush to help him to his feet. You've gotta get him back to base or at least the rest of the team and out of harms way. So you sprint as fast as you can as soon as the man's up, keeping to your side as you keep an eye out for anyone else hostile or otherwise. You try your radio again, but nothing you backtrack enough to find the spot you last saw your little team and find them under fire, one covering a wound on the others arm, panicking. You're quick to take over, playing out the scene in the same mind set you started out with. Mission in mind. Quest line to follow. You snap the other guy out of it enough to instruct him on how to stop the bleeding properly and grab the injured mans weapon from him, shoving it into the man's hands and directing him to cover you. Again, your oblivious to the look of pure confusion from the man and your uninjured teammate as you work to bandage up your fellow recruit.

You all make it out in one peice, the base being cleared of the small force that attempted to overtake the base. What you don't learn, and no one bothers to tell you. Is that the man you "saved", Captain John Price, has been talking with Laswell. Not so much talking with her as TO her. Your in it for money? Perfect you'd definitely agree to join the 141 with the pay difference.

"John you can't fucking do that. This kid is green. Way too fucking green! They weren't even supposed to be pulled into active duty! They should have been benched with the newer recuits, not out with their seniors!"

Price laughs and shakes his head. "No. This one's got potential and I wana see how far it'll take em." He was impressed by how some rookie was able to show enough guts to help him when the odds looked bad. He had everything under control, but damn if your actions weren't something interesting. Rolling out of line of fire and still keeping a steady aim? That's quite the task, he boasts for you. Hell, you didn't even think twice about Price's rank or authority, your focused was on recovery and living while taking out the hostiles. As much as Laswell regrets to say there's not much reason to deny Price. His eye for talent really was spot on. What could go wrong in all actuality? She trusted Price, and hasn't let her down yet.

"Fine. But I'm keeping a close eye on this set up."

Price grins as he looks down at your small folder, thanking her and flipping through the pages again. Tomorrow you'd be flying out with him to your new base. Joining the 141 as a tech specialist.

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

Charlie's corruption arc ✨😈

aka Broken Crown AU inspired by this post because I’ve been thinking about it intensively. So, I believe Charlie's villain arc would start with a great feeling of relief. Imagine: it's been a week since the final battle; it's been a week when Charlie hasn't been able to sleep at night. Others think she's still grieving, but the truth is different. Every night, Charlie cannot fall asleep because she's trying to cope with the relief she felt the second Adam died. She was the one who at first stopped Lucifer from finishing him, just because killing Adam didn't seem right. But when Niffty actually did it, despite everything, it felt right. It felt good.

After weeks (months?) of looking for a way to stop Adam from committing genocide against her people, after being bullied and humiliated by him, after witnessing how an unjust system enabled his despicable actions while ruthlessly punishing others for far lesser crimes, she finally, for the first time, felt like she had any agency. Just like that, her loved ones were finally safe. They could all breathe again, and all it took was a small act of violence against the person who fully deserved it. This realization changes her. While she doesn't intend to do such things in the future, she can no longer deny that exercising brutal power can be the best solution when dealing with certain kinds of people. This is the very first thing she hides from Vaggie. Not because she's scared of her judgment but because these ideas are so against her own moral values it is simply scary to put them into words.

Maybe I would be capable of killing someone in cold blood. Maybe I'll have to do it one day.

But Adam's dead, so they are safe, right? And she won't ever have to make a choice like that again. That's some reassurance.

And then, Niffty is killed by Lute. Just like that—Lute teleports to Hell by night and slaughters her in revenge because why wouldn't she? Who would have stopped her?

It obviously hits everyone hard—they just lost another friend. But Alastor? Alastor loses his fucking mind. He goes completely feral, yelling at Charlie and blaming her for everything.

What kind of incompetent fool shows their enemy mercy and lets them live long enough to get vengeance? I cannot believe I thought you could be a competent leader. You are just a fucking child. You are all a bunch of idiots.

Charlie goes through a complete meltdown because she knows he's right. If she had the guts to finish Lute or at least asked Vaggie or Lucifer to do so, Niffty would be alive. She's crying, choking on tears; she feels like a hopeless failure, but Alastor does not give her a break. He seems so infuriated she thinks he would kill her. Fortunately, Lucifer and Vaggie intervene. Lucifer puts Alastor back in his place by essentially beating the shit out of him. Vaggie takes Charlie out to calm her down. She insists that if it's anyone's fault, it's hers because she was the one who spared Lute, but Charlie knows that it's a lie. Vaggie would have killed Lute if not for Charlie's convictions. She fails, and she fails all over again, and it seems like she can't escape the evil. It's her responsibility to face it on equal terms. Otherwise, she won't be able to protect her loved ones.

After this incident, both Lucifer and Vaggie insist on kicking Alastor out of the hotel. He's too dangerous, too unpredictable. We can't allow him to treat you like this. We don't even need him anymore; there's nothing an Overlord can do that the King of Hell can't.

But that's not the truth. There's something Alastor can do that Lucifer can't: play the game. And now, grieving another of her friends, Charlie realizes she needs a teacher if she wants to stop pieces.

I have like 0 time to write the proper fic but I had to get these out of my system because holy shit I love coming up with elaborate plots I'm not able to execute. Maybe talking about it will somehow scratch the itch.

Also tagging @purrpleowl because she expresses her interest in this idea.

[justgivemethephd]

02.09.2024

Happy Monday everyone! Hope you've all had a wonderful start to your week. It was my first day back in the lab in a very long time, and while all I was really doing was shadowing one of the post docs I still had a really fun time. I feel so much peace in the lab, and it really makes the day fly by. Since I can't really make progress on any other tasks until other people start responding to my emails I decided to work on the cheat-sheets I've been wanting to put together for the parts of my project where I get foggy on the details. Once me and my boyfriend finish moving in together I'll plaster these around my desk and look at them every day, with a proper review once a week until everything sticks.

Unfortunately I didn't manage to score Oasis tickets, but I made some great progress preparing for my novel (getting over an aspect of the plot I've been stuck on for ages) and I'm recovering from surgery rather quickly. Overall, it's been a pretty great

~~~~~

🎧 - Fame by Irene Cara

🎮 - World of Warcraft

📖 - Priory Of The Orange Tree (less than 200 pages left!!!!!)

[drdtfuitgumies]

season 3 summary: july 2024

this summary is mainly for my personal documentation (i like documenting stuff), but i thought i'd post this in the blog too just in case anyone else was interested!

STATISTICS

as you can perhaps tell by the "header", ace is first place for this month with seven appearances! ...though considering the situations he was involved in (most notably an undignified jumpscare, being put in air jail, and being put in a repurposed jail by the name of Arei's Haul), it may be more of a curse. arei, j, and whit all tie for second place with six appearances, which is a very normal occurrence at this point.

PERSONAL FAVORITES (in chronological order)

1) Teruko falls down the stairs (ft. her three* best** friends***) (CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS)

i really like eden and charles' sideeyes here. and drawing teruko falling down the stairs was always one of my main goals with this blog, so i'm glad i could accomplish that!

2) Class is NOT going well (CHAPTER 1 SPOILERS)

the people really liked this one too, it seems! i finished in time for their birthday, too... i'm bound by law to apologize because they happen to be a friend's favorite character. orz

3) Whit shows Xander how to wear a blazer

i've drawn this sprite twice now. he just looks endearing in what i like to call The Stupid Idiot Dog way. I promise I mean this with as much affection (and cuteness aggression) possible. maybe i'll draw more sprites in the future... especially the ones that barely get used

4) Do you see this shit, Min?

another meme redraw! not much thought here. i just want them to be friends, even if it starts from a shared exasperation with practically the rest of the class.

THE POWER OF HINDSIGHT

sometimes i think of adding punchlines in the situations, or fix errors after i've put them in the queue, but forget to actually. do that

veronika jumpscaring ace was supposed to have a dark background but i thought veronika jumpscaring him with a flashlight in broad daylight was way funnier. the end result would still be the same anyhow

as mentioned in both "class is NOT going well" and "min and mai eat taiyaki", the latter was supposed to be min's birthday post. but i saw the meme around a week before her birthday and i couldn't NOT draw it. and i actually finished it in time!!

levi's dialogue in this situation was supposed to allude to him putting ace in air jail, but i didn't know how to make j's dialogue MASSIVE while also leaving just enough words for the viewer to ponder about what exactly levi was doing beforehand

also about the above situation; j's second piece of dialogue was supposed to be lowercase. i try to modify everyone's dialogue according to how they'd probably type (from the top of my head arei, eden, and whit speak in lowercase and sprinkling in emoticons/kaomojis; ace and j also speak in lowercase but they often switch into Titlecase and UPPERCASE for emphasis). that time i forgot to proofread the capitalization though. i guess this is incredibly minor and doesn't even matter that much

arei was supposed to steal hu's butterfly pin off-screen and the situation would be hu recalling the incident to someone like. levi, eden, or david idk. and going "I am unfortunately disappointed but not surprised" with a serene expression. i thought the punchline of hu just giving her pin and arei considering it a defeat was funnier, so i ended up going with that

I really, really wanted to find proper motivational words that Arturo would say,,,,,, ach.....

OTHER REMARKS

i tried to mimic arei's canon handwriting for that header image! also that is indeed the jail cardboard box being repurposed as arei's inventory of stolen items. i guess ace lives there for now

i want to do vocaloid mv redraws... i think i've mentioned it here once before, but i'd like to try. although i probably can't do more "serious" songs

that one comment asking if arei brought ace in her suitcase (since she's wearing some stolen accessories) still makes me laugh because how does one even begin to approach that conclusion. you can freely interpret arei's bigger suitcase as a sign that a whole ass Ace Markey is stuck inside there, i suppose! thank you for the mental image!

unfortunately, my schedule this year is taxing enough that i literally can't draw fuit gumies everyday anymore (unless if it was just one single character standing). i'll still post something for everyone's birthdays, and i plan to draw something to start off september at least, but i'll wait until that post for a more concrete schedule

thank you for your support!

as promised, whether you've seen it or not; here is the miro canvas for the first three months/seasons! i've since moved into another one since it started lagging enough to annoy me.

[hurpdurpburps]

Otherside Picnic Manga Yuri Club Special Story 4 English Translation

SPOILER WARNING: This is an expansion of Toriko and Sorawo's first fight in File 4 - Time, Space and a Middle-aged Man in Vol 1 of the novels.

Written by: Miyazawa Iori

Translated by: @hurpdurpburps

-

Chapter 4: Ikebukuro, Cafe Meal For One

I sat there in a daze for a while, staring at all the food sitting on the table.

Taco rice. Chocolate and sour cherry cake. Matcha terrine. A “tart of the day” [1] topped with plenty of raspberries. A large cup of caffè latte. A pot of grape tea and a teacup.

The afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows shone a spotlight on the seat across me. Toriko, who had been sitting there a moment ago, was no longer here. We had gotten into an argument and she’d ended up leaving the cafe.

"Phew…"

Slowly, I straightened up from the back of my chair which I’d been leaning against, then I picked up a spoon and plunged it into the plate of taco rice.

"Hargh…" a sigh of frustration escaped from my lips as I mixed the taco meat, lettuce and tomato.

Our messy conversation had begun just as the food arrived, which led to most of it being left untouched. I glared at the empty seat across me again. Toriko's habit of over-ordering without thinking about the consequences meant that I usually ended up overeating whenever we went out for a meal. I began eating the taco rice with a vengeance, as if to vent my anger at Toriko, who had abandoned her post and ran away.

I recalled my conversation with Toriko as I chewed on lettuce.

Maybe I shouldn't have said anything after all, about Satsuki-san being dead already…

… No, I was sure the topic would’ve come up eventually. Satsuki-san was Toriko’s sole reason for going to the Otherside. Things were bound to derail if they went on like this.

Which was why I didn’t regret saying what I said.

Or at least that was how it should’ve been.

I finished the taco rice in one go, put down my spoon, then rinsed my parched mouth with tea.

Three untouched desserts remained.

Seriously, what the hell is up with her way of ordering? At least eat one of them before you go.

I simply couldn’t bring myself to leave food unfinished on the table after it's been served, and Toriko seemed to find that amusing.

What a nasty piece of work. [2]

The tea I'd ordered was served in a pot, so there was still about two cups’ worth left. I poured myself a refill and started on the matcha terrine. I’d thought terrine was some kind of finely chopped vegetable or meat dish solidified with agar, but what was on the plate was much more chic than I had imagined. When I took a bite, the rich, bittersweet matcha melted in my mouth.

Hmm, this would pair better with coffee than tea…

Toriko's latte caught my eye just as the thought crossed my mind.

Did she touch her drink? [3] She did… But there's almost all of it left, what a waste…

… … … … … … … … [4]

Argh. Whatever. I'll take it.

I reached out, grabbed the cup of latte, and took a sip.

"Tsk."

It was still hot. I checked my lips with the pad of my middle finger for any burns. Then I brought the cup to my lips again [1] and took a cautious sip this time, making sure to blow on it. Just as I expected, the latte paired perfectly with the lingering sweetness in my mouth. It seemed Toriko hadn't added any sugar.

But even now, I was still troubled. I didn't know how to process my feelings.

This might’ve been the first time in my life that I'd gotten into a proper argument with someone in such a manner. And by that, I meant… in the sense that the other party wasn't an enemy. I wouldn't be fretting so much if it’d been an enemy. Or rather, there wouldn't have been an argument. I would’ve either left the place immediately, or thrown hands in a fit of rage.

Another thing that was frustrated me was the fact that I’d ended up getting scared. The Otherside was an important place to me as well, and I didn't mind exploring it with Toriko. Which was why I’d wanted to tell her to be more careful and not just play things by ear, but as I spoke, it'd dawned on me that I was afraid.

Strange. Have I always been this weak?

Here I was, more hesitant that I thought I’d be, in the face of the unknown world that I’d been pining for so long,

Though it’s true that the Otherside is a scary place…

My conversation with Toriko had shed some light on a few things.

The main reason for my reluctance was probably because I wasn’t going to the Otherside simply for exploration’s sake, but rather to look for Satsuki-san, who meant nothing to me.

I would’ve been fine if we were exploring together without any of that unnecessary baggage.

"… Ah."

Noticing that my hand had stopped, I picked up my fork. There was still half of the terrine left, along with an entirely untouched tart and cake. I had a long way to go.

Also, it just occurred to me that I was going to be paying for everything.

That woman…

I'll never forgive her.

My anger rekindling, I stabbed my fork into the terrine with renewed determination.

TL Notes

General note: I adopted a more 'literary' prose style to match the tone of the novels. Hence, the translation in this series will be significantly more liberal than my usual analytical posts. Feel free to ask me anything.

[1] In the official English localisation of the novel, this was mistranslated as "Japanese tart". The translator most likely misread 「本日のタルト」 as 本日 (today) is 日本 (Japan) flipped backwards.

[2] The phrase used here is 意地汚くて悪かったですね。Which is a bit vague as 意地汚い can refer to either mean or gluttonous behaviour, but there is no subject to determine who this adjective is describing... Based on the flow of the monologue I decided that Sorawo complaining about Toriko was more likely than making a self-deprecating joke. Suggestions / alternative interpretations are welcome...

[3] The Japanese expression used in both moments is 口つけ, which directly translates to "putting [one's] mouth on [it]". I dunno about you, but I'm choosing to interpret this as Miyazawa making a deliberate choice to insinuate that Sorawo was (sub?)consciously aware of the implications of her actions here.

[4] Usually I shorten excessive punctuation but Miyazawa specifically included 8 sets of ellipsis here so it seemed appropriate to preserve it lol.

List of Yuri Club's Otherside Picnic Short Stories [my translations]:

1. Shinjuku, The First Meet-Up (新宿、初めての待ち合わせ)

2. Hasshaku-sama Epilogue (八尺様エピローグ)

3. Ochanomizu, The First Afterparty (お茶の水、初めての打ち上げ)

4. Ikebukuro, Cafe Meal For One (池袋、ひとりカフェ飯)

5. Naha, After The Big Job (那覇、大仕事の後)

6. Ishigaki Island, A Dazed Vacation (石垣島、呆然のリゾート)

7. Mercedes AMG, The Backseat (メルセデスAMG、後部座席)

8. Otherworldly Elevator, On The Way Back (異世界エレベーター、帰路)

9. Kozakura Mansion, Pizza Party (小桜屋敷、ピザパーティー)

10. Ikebukuro Bookstore, Meet Up (池袋の書店、待ち合わせ)

11. Hannou, In The Car From The Station (飯能、駅からの車中)

12. TBD

[mahs-dumpster]

a/n: idk what I'm doing with my life tbh I'm just like. Writing tons of scenarios without stopping. Anyways this was like made ages ago and I just decided to give it a proper ending... Anyways once again posting this and running away

🏷️: @viilpstick @justm3di0cr3

cw: oc x canon (Leona x Isabelle), banter, uhhh idk man denial of feelings?

words: 2300+

Dividers.

Obsession.

“I hope you do realize you're absolutely obsessed with her.” Ruggie stated as he finished folding Leona's clothes and putting them in their rightful drawer. The man in question laid in bed with a raised eyebrow completely confused.

“What?”

“With Isabelle-san. You’ve been talking about her for the last hour I’ve been here folding your clothes.” Ruggie got up, grabbing the basket filled with dirty clothes from both him and Leona — he wasn't gonna complain if Leona let him wash his clothes with his. “Actually, you’ve been talking about her during Spelldrive practice as well.”

“I wasn't talking about her, I was complaining.” The prince huffed as he crossed his arms, looking at the smaller one. 

“Excessively. I'm so tired of hearing about her I think I'll physically cringe next time I see her. Which is bad… she likes me enough to give me special treatment…” Ruggie sighed as Leona sat down to look at him incredulously.

“Because she always has a bone to pick with me. She's always on my case.”

“I'm always on your case and you don't talk about me nearly as much, do you?”

“You do stuff for me. She just irritates me.”

“Well, ok. Vil-san irritates you and is always on your case, do you talk as much about him as you do with Isabelle-san?” Leona shut his mouth, rolling his eyes and rolling to the other side of the bed, his back facing Ruggie as the hyena beastman sighed. “One way or another you’ll have to accept it. It ain't that bad, really, at least you know you’ll stay together regardless, while I– nevermind. ‘night, boss.” and the boy left before any melancholic thoughts could’ve been voiced, while Leona stayed there on his bed, eyebrows furrowed as he clicked his tongue.

Let's say, in the imaginary scenario that Ruggie created, that Leona was, in fact, a bit obsessed with his fiancée. What would happen then? Sure, they were getting married in 3 year's time, but that wouldn't change how Isabelle felt, and she despised him. And he despised her as well. Obviously. Surely. 

Leona groaned in annoyance and covered his face with his pillow, trying to force himself to go to sleep and ignore the annoying questions Ruggie planted in his head.

“Sit up straight, has your father taught you no proper etiquette?” 

“Oh shut it.” Leona basically growled but his fiancée showed no fear, in actuality, she seemed even more fierce, glaring at him as if demanding an apology. He didn't give it to her through words, but he rolled his eyes and waved his hand, and she nodded, not entirely pleased but it would do. 

After that day Leona didn't want to see Isabelle, in fact, he’s made it his life mission to avoid her when they had joint school activities, and ignored her calls — more than usual. But sitting in a limousine? With her? All the way from the mirror to the palace at Sunset Savannah? He simply couldn't avoid her.

“So.” Isabelle began, and he got ready for a scolding. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I'm not.”

“You barely spoke to me the last time our schools had an event.”

“I was busy.”

“You ignored all of my calls, even the ones from the viewglasses.”

“I probably didn't see it. Can we get it over with?”

“No.” She insisted, a frown prevalent in her pretty face. “What's up with you all of a sudden? If I said something to upset you, you must tell me.”

“You upset me just by looking in my direction.” He glared back and Isabelle stared at him for a moment. She sighed and looked outside the window.

“I see.” She merely said. “I shall not look at you today if it upsets you this much.”

…Did he go too far?

He watched as her small hands were locked together, one of them kept making motions on the other one, like pulling the sleeve of her dress, pinching her skin lightly and scratching it as well. Leona moved his gaze upwards to the back of her head, unable to see her expression. 

Maybe he did go a bit too far.

Isabelle said stuff like this constantly to him tho! Like, come on now, he had way more right to be upset, she was usually the one starting fights! In fact, this whole thing started because he couldn't stop complaining about a fight she initiated!! 

Leona clicked his tongue, his demeanor shifted from being uncomfortable in her presence for being annoyed with himself. Why did he even say that? It wasn't even true. Maybe it was in the beginning, but not anymore. Isabelle was irritating, always bossing him around and testing his patience, but she didn't pry when he closed off when the subject of his family showed up, she cheered for him during Spelldrive matches, — well, more like threatened him because she didn't want to be engaged to a loser — and defended him to people who dared to bad mouth him. 

The issue of being or not obsessed with her didn't matter any longer. He needed to fix the situation.

Gently, Leona grabbed one of her hands and held it tight, and the girl looked at it in confusion, especially because Leona refused to make eye contact and just looked outside. 

“I lied.” Leona simply said, and he felt Isabelle relax next to him. “I'm dealing with some issues. Just let me be for a while.”

Isabelle huffed as she intertwined their fingers. “You could’ve said so from the start, moron. Take your time, just know I'm here to listen if you need me.”

“‘kay.” He whispered, his thumb caressing her hand, as the girl got a bit closer to him, deciding to hold his hand with both of hers. 

He wondered if she truly meant it, if he were to say what he truly thought of her, if she should accept him. In moments like this, Leona would let his ego aside, and pretend that they were truly in a real, loving relationship.

The guards were ordered to guide Isabelle to her room for the time they stayed there, while Leona refused his — it was his home, why would he need a bunch of guards to show him where his room was?

Almost as soon as he arrived at his room, he flopped himself onto his bed, only taking off his shirt to feel a bit more free and comfortable. Back at the same place he ran away from… he resented everytime he had to go back home. He was proud of his country, yes, but the palace carried too many memories, painful ones in fact… every hallway made him remember the servants talking about how useless he was, every dinner was a display of uplifting his brother while putting him down, every smile from Cheka showed Leona he could never be number one.

He was tired already. He just wanted to sleep. Maybe if he slept now, his brother would think he was actually tired, and let him skip dinner. It wasn't likely, but it was worth trying.

And so he did. Leona slept for hours in his room, a few servants tried to wake him up while knocking at his door but to no avail. Until, of course, Isabelle.

“Leona, wake–” She said, not caring to knock on the door but stopping midway and turning her head away from his form. “Put on a shirt, will you?”

“As far as I'm aware, this is my room.” Leona mumbled, his voice tired as he stirred in bed, his tail getting closer to him. “Could’ve knocked.”

“If I knocked you wouldn't have let me in.” She made a point and sighed, deciding to turn to him again despite her embarrassment. She walked close to him, hands on her hips. “Come on, dinner’s about to be served.”

“Then tell them I was too tired to show up.” He frowned slightly, his eyes still closed as he turned away from her. “Let me be.”

Isabelle sighed, scratching her head, unsure of what to do. “Cheka will miss you, he’s been talking about you all day.”

No response.

“Come on now, I can't show up without you and you know that! Stop being like this.”

Once again, no response.

Isabelle puffed out her cheeks in annoyance as she decided to take a look around his room. It was cleaner than she thought, but then again, of course it would be, the servants had time to clean his room without the giant cat to mess everything up. The bookshelf caught her attention, as she walked towards it she saw a few books she had never read before, a lot of them weren't fiction, but rather about topics too advanced even for NRC or RSA. She reached out for one book, opening it with curiosity.

“I had no idea you had an interest in geology.” Isabelle said, sitting at the end of his bed as she continued to read. “I guess there's a lot of stuff I still don't know about you.”

Leona sighed, finally sitting up as he scratched his head. Isabelle kept her eyes on the book, scared her gaze would betray her once she looked at him. “I guess."

He finally opened his eyes, and blinked a few times to be sure he wasn't seeing things. Right there in front of him, was Isabelle, half of her hair tied up in a bun as the rest was free, her clothes were from Sunset Savannah, no doubt, and they seemed to fit her perfectly, almost as if they belonged to her. His quietness made Isabelle curious, so despite her embarrassment, she looked up to him, lifting an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Where’d you get that?"

“Oh.” She looked at herself, her face pink as she let out a small smile, happy he noticed. “Your sister-in-law, she said she bought this for me a while ago, had it custom made too.” She closed the book, touching the fabric of her dress. “It's beautiful and very well made. She's incredibly kind.” Leona just hummed, unable to keep from staring at her. He rested his head on his hand as he looked, his eyes going all the way from her toes to her head, making Isabelle even more embarrassed. “Why are you staring? Does it look weird?”

“In a way.” He watched amused as Isabelle made a pout, a sigh escaping her as she looked at the ground with disappointment. “But it suits you.”

Isabelle looked at him, unsure if she should take it as a compliment, but his reaction didn't seem to express anything other than intrigue. He kept looking at her, his eyes couldn't drift away from her as his irises got bigger, reminding her slightly of a cat. His tail moving a bit as he watched her, a smile slowly creeping on his face. She was beautiful. And she was wearing his country’s clothes.

Fine. Maybe Ruggie was right… he was a bit obsessed with his own fiancée.

Leona heard steps outside his room and groaned in annoyance. He knew it was probably a servant trying to call him for dinner since Isabelle didn't seem to have success– wait.

Isabelle was in his room. For a longer time than it was expected. He was shirtless.

He smirked, an idea popping in his head.

“Why do you have that weird smile on your face?” Isabelle asked, looking at him suspiciously. Leona simply let out a chuckle, getting up and standing in front of her, the girl look even more confused. “What are y–”

Before she could continue, her back was already resting on his bed, Leona on top of her as he watched her face grow red and her eyebrows furrow. He couldn't help but chuckle as he nuzzled his face in her neck and Isabelle complained, but still made no effort to try and get him off of her.

Then, the door was opened.

“Your highness, dinner is– oh goodness!” The servant quickly closed the door as Leona laughed against Isabelle's skin, the girl getting unbelievably red and perplexed upon realizing his plan. “I-I’ll tell His Majesty that you're busy at the moment. Forgive my intrusion.”

Leona finally relaxed, the weight of his entire body falling onto Isabelle who complained once more. Upon realizing he wasn't moving she simply sighed.

“So you were just using me to run away from dinner huh?”

“What? Are you disappointed?” He asked, his breath on her neck as she shivered and moved her face away from his.

“Not exactly. Just annoyed you used me for your own personal gain.” She tried to explain, where Leona was laying down he could feel her heartbeat, and it was increasing with every passing second. He smiled.

She was nervous.

“If you wanted me to lay you in bed–”

“Don't you dare finish that sentence.” She finally looked at him, a glare on her face and he laughed. Leona's hand moved to Isabella's face, his thumb making circular motions as her cheeks went pink. It was then that he realized how unbelievably close she was.

“Hey, mouse.” He started, eyes never looking away from hers. “I'm gonna do something, and if you don't want me to, I'm giving you the freedom to push me away.” he quickly looked at her lips, enchanted by her, and she seemed to freeze upon realizing what he meant.

He got closer to her, his nose brushing against hers and his lips hovering just above hers. He was about to do it, to kiss her right there without a care for what this meant about his own feelings for her and–

Her phone rang. She pushed him away and got up.

“I-I’m– there's– I-I have to answer it– you know, my father he– I-I’ll go.” With that, Isabelle quickly walked out of his room, leaving Leona by himself, his back laying on his own bed.

And he laughed.

Her eyes… Leona might be a predator, based on his lion features, but he was so sure that Isabelle was the one fitting that role at that moment. Bewitching him and making him do crazy things. Making him quite obsessed with her and her presence.

He couldn't help but want more.

[a-magpie-in-gravesfield]

Quickly making a post to say I just added the Belos plushies to my Etsy, tho I'm not adding tags or anything to the post just yet because I still need a few more days to finish the animated commercial (I was feeling kinda sick the last few days so I didn't get to work on it like i originally wanted) I'll make a proper post when the video is finished but since I said I would put them on there this week end, I figured I'd keep my work and do a stealthy release for now XD

[riddlerosehearts]

okay. so. overall i loved this latest twst update but there were a couple things i didn't 100% love and i'll talk about one of them in this post: the shroud parents being so nice and loving and helpful seriously threw me off last time they appeared because i thought they always seemed so emotionally distant before. both from how idia talked about them on occasion and how they never once appeared in his very lengthy, two-part overblot flashback, not when he was shutting himself in his room for 2 whole years or when he finished creating ortho--the only adults we ever saw were STYX researchers. so like, i'd always had the impression that they weren't necessarily The Worst Parents Ever but that they were just so busy with their work that they forgot to pay attention to their kids. and when they first appeared in book 7, it felt like they were behaving exactly how a lonely little robot boy who knew that he was "replacing" their dead son would want them to act, and even looked that way too with the daft punk helmets giving them a robotic look. it just seemed too good to be true imo.

after that update came out i had read a theory that said maybe malleus was so powerful that he could put even a robot to sleep, and that that was what we were seeing: ortho dreaming of getting to be a hero and save the day, and getting to have this perfect happy family. i loved that idea. i probably should've realized a twist like that wasn't going to happen when we still hadn't checked back in on ortho after so many months, but i just thought, and still think, that it would be so compelling if ortho wished to be loved and accepted so badly that some part of him deep down had become human enough to dream, or at least for malleus to be able to bring out that part of him. if his parents weren't so loving in reality and maybe didn't even fully accept him as their son, so he dreamt that they would--which is a heartbreaking thought, but i definitely would not have put it past twst to do that. i also just like... think it would be neat if the development ortho has been getting in events and vignettes, which heavily focuses on his growing sense of autonomy and how he's started to have his own desires outside of his intended purpose of just Being Idia's Brother, was given a little more focus in the main story.

anyway though. obviously that theory just got obliterated by canon! so i guess the most logical explanation for the discrepancy in the shroud parents' portrayal might be that they were too emotionally distant and focused on their work before, and remained that way for a long time after ortho's death, but eventually they "woke up" and realized they'd never really been there for their sons. losing one of them changed them for the better and now they really are that helpful and sweet. if their behavior seems too good to be true then it could be because they're trying their hardest to make up for the years they wasted, to be a proper family now. maybe they didn't accept ortho for the longest time out of grief and that's part of why they never appeared in idia's flashback, but they later decided that just because they can never truly regain or replace the son they lost, doesn't mean they can't treasure the one they still have and the one that they've gained. and i guess the shroud parents still fully accepting ortho and loving him as one of their own despite the tragedy that led them to become family, and despite the fact that ortho does not have the shroud family blood flowing through his (nonexistent) veins, would parallel the bond that lilia has with silver and malleus... oh. okay. i think i've kinda just talked myself into feeling better about this, actually.