#i hate international mail so much

[the-kipsabian]

i will blow up the us mail service if the bracelets i sent three weeks ago arent delivered this week

[wolverineblues]

why am i trying so hard to fight off a breakdown over seeing my deadname on a handwritten thank you note i got from ordering merch from a band

[snarky-badger]

Places to donate to help Palestine

PCRF.net - They did over a 100 medical missions in 2022 (Palestine Children’s Relief Fund)

Middle East Children's Alliance - A Non-profit organization fighting for the well-being and rights of Middle Eastern Children. They also have a link to a 'tool kit' to help spread information about the Gaza Genocide. I'm linking to it directly HERE

Anera: Where Hope Finds a Way - They provide everything from food, medicine and hygiene kits. $30 equals 16 blood bags - an essential thing for helping doctors help people survive horrible physical trauma.

UNICEF.org - Link to where you can donate to help UNICEF get aid to those suffering in Palestine.

And because I know damn well that lots of people don't have the extra funds to donate money - you can help by simply clicking here once a day. It donates ad revenue. Click to help Palestine

[I wanted so much to find other places people could donate that weren't in the US or Canada, but I was having problems figuring out how to ensure that they were reputable. If anyone knows of any, please reblog and add the links!]

And some basic informational sources for those who want to understand what's really going on other than the misleading information from the media.

BDS - The Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions movement works to end international support for Israel's oppression of Palestinians. Offers actual news about what's happening.

Decolonize Palestine - In depth information about the history and origins of Palestine. Also has a great 'debunked myths' section that lists almost all of all the lies the Media has been peddling.

Mondoweiss - An independent website devoted to informing readers about developments in Israel/Palestine and related US foreign policy. (Be aware: Some articles show disturbing images of the horrors happening in Gaza.)

Petitions I found with reputable track records (there are a LOT of fakes out there)

Canada:

Independant Jewish Voices Canada - Gaza on the Brink Ceasefire Now! - Prewritten letter to Justin Trudeau and Mélanie Joly calling for an immediate ceasefire, and for an end to the collective punishment of Palestinians. Just sign your name and it sends a letter!

There are several other ways (Including email addresses to various people/companies, as well as physical addresses you can mail letters to) listed here.

DON'T send threats/hate mail. That does nothing but make them double down on their current stances. Be polite. You don't have to take a happy tone, but be polite.

United States:

USA - Tell Congress: Stop Fueling the Gaza Genocide - Demanding an immediate ceasefire and for Humanitarian Aid to be allowed into Gaza.

Jewish Voice for Peace - You can use their form for send a letter to Congress to demand that they should focus on de-escalation instead of sending money and weapons to Israel so they can continue their genocidal war against Palestinians.

Jewish Voice for Peace (part 2) - Fill out this form and inform President Biden that he should call for a ceasefire and stop supplying money and weapons to Israel.

[arjudy224]

The Intern: Outreach Gala

Another uneventful day for Gotham's environmental intern...

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

Gotham's public library appears unrecognizable under the cloak of night. Broad leaves shroud the outside exterior of the Gothic pillars while ivy cascades down the large door frames. Harris raises an eyebrow.

"How many forests do you think Wayne destroyed in his quest to save the planet?" He questions with a smirk.

Each grey hair is perfectly gelled out of his face. Ditching his glasses for the occasion, Dr. Harris may actually care about tonight's guests. The bouncer outside the door seemed to think the dress code was not a laughing matter.

Taking his extended arm, I roll my eyes. The security guy nods to the two of us as we walk through the door.

"Professor, if you keep saying things like that Gordon's going to question your stances on Gotham's resident Eco-terrorist. " I whisper with a smile. "....but at least 12."

Thanks to the joint collaboration between Wayne Industries, Goth-corp, and the Gotham Department of Environmental Protection. Gotham City is hosting its first Environmental Outreach Gala for the nearby tri-state area. Unfortunately for me, they saddled the newest intern to do all the heavy lifting. Young joints and all that jazz. At least I got an invite. The invites ran out before the IT guy could get one. Poor Eddie.

My heart flutters a little bit as a realization hits me. I’m actually here… surrounded by giants in clean energy and the scientific community alike. Award-winning journalists... All for the future of our planet. Passing my reflection, I smile thinking of how far I’ve come from that little river rat back at home.

A figure in the corner of my eye draws my thoughts away from the Grandma debrief. Dick Grayson, the Billionaire’s son, charms the group of ladies by his side. I take a mental note to find time to talk to him when there isn’t such a big crowd. It's been a long time since we last spoke.

The walls echo with the idle chatter coming from the rich socialites of Gotham. Waiters in tuxedos maneuver silently with a tray of champagne flutes in each hand. Considering, that most environmental professionals wear cargo pants from the early 2000s to work... the dress code was definitely a choice. I scan the room for familiar faces. Gordon flashes me a smile from across the room. I nod back. The Mayor works his way around the room with a large smile. It must be an election year.

My throat gets tight. I'm not ready for this. Looking to my right, I find that Dr. Harris has vanished into the crowd.

"Y/N L/N?" A voice calls distracting me from my nerves.

A well-dressed man strolls over. Something about him puts me on edge. Maybe it's his wicked smile or the large emerald ring on his outstretched hand. He walks with an easy air of confidence.

"Lex Luthor."

My heart does a little tap dance in my chest. The tight fabric of my rental dress makes it hard to breathe. I shake his hand politely. The party-goers go quiet around us. From the corner of my eye, Lois Lane, an investigative reporter from Metropolis, shoves through the crowd. So much for being a fly on the wall.

"I recently worked with a Professor of yours. She had a lot to say about your graduate proposal."

This cannot be happening. Memories of those long fights in the lab flash in the back of my mind. Mr. Luthor's cat-like gaze observes my reaction curiously.

I cover my face in embarrassment. That woman deserves hate mail. I could have at least been asked to type or spell-check it beforehand.

"To be frank, I originally chose the topic to get a rise outta her. Dr. Hendrix had me doing dishes for 3 weeks straight after I accidentally messed up a sample, so I wrote a proposal I knew she wouldn't like."

When I finally uncover my face, Luthor stares down at me with an amused grin.

"Even so. I'd like to discuss potential funding opportunities in Metropolis. If this is something you would think up out of boredom, I'd love to see what you can do when you put your mind to it."

That brings a smile to my face.

"Really? Everyone who I've brought it up to has been apprehensive about researching Kryptionian radiation.

"We need more scientists to ask questions Ms. L/N. Even the ones, that people don't want to know the answer to. "

The sullen green glow draws my eye once again to Mr. Luthor's ring finger... Wait, that's not an emerald. That's Kryptonite.

"Is this a personal interest of yours?" I ask slowly glancing between his eyes and his ring.

"In some ways."

An unspoken conversation occurs when he notices my acknowledgement of his strange choice of jewelry. The silence only creates more questions. Why would you wear something you know is irradiated?

"I hope to hear from you soon." Mr. Luthor concludes after handing me a business card, "There is always a spot at Lexcorp for a future scientist with your talents."

I stand there in silence watching him leave. The sleek modern design of the card lists only the bare essentials: his name, office address, and contact information in silver lettering.

Four hours ago, I was hauling boxes for the decorating committee. Huh. A nearby waiter offers a champagne flute from the tray. Respectfully, I turn them down. This dress costs more than my rent.

“Oh no. Thank you. I am… working.”

"Does work-life balance not apply to interns?” A voice interrupts.

I try not to roll my eyes at the "intern" comment. The constant reminders of my status are getting old. Starting at his perfectly buffed dress shoes, my gaze drags along the fabric of his black designer suit. Dick Grayson sure does like to make an entrance. With his dark curls and friendly blue eyes, his familiar smile knocks over my defenses. Sipping on his drink, he waits for my response with a teasing grin. His energy is contiguous. I ignore his question to ask my own instead.

“Has anyone told you that you tend to appear out of nowhere?”

His striking eyes light up with a mischievous glint.

“You have no idea.” He laughs, "It's nice to see you back in Gotham. It's been a long time."

"It has. From the rumors, you have been up to quite a bit of trouble." I joke gesturing to the envious eyes from across the room.

He raises a curious eyebrow.

“Good things I hope?”

Glancing around the room, I ignore the dozen eyes staring daggers in my direction. Academia can be such a bitch.

“Nothing too crazy: a few murders, unfounded accusations, and you might be an alien?”

Dick grimaces while tilting his head ever so slightly. He swirls his drink, yet doesn't take a sip.

“Sounds about right. Anything you believe? “

I pause... Do I play coy?

“I’m not sure an alien could do a quadruple summersault.”

Something flashes in his eyes that I don’t quite understand. For a moment, I wonder if I should have held my tongue. His suspicion morphs into the first genuine smile I've seen all evening.

“You’ve kept tabs on me Y/N.”

Before I can respond, a scream causes the ballroom to descend into chaos. Vines shoot out from under the floorboards while the native plants start attacking the guest. A woman with flaming red hair paces the floor. Her vines wrap around each person one by one…. A thorny bush springs out of a fallen leaf snagging my delicate rental dress.

Dammit Pamela. We talked about this.

Glancing at the bartender's horrified expression, I frown.

“I change my mind. I’ll have that drink now.”

[leah-lover]

Away. Mapi x Ingrid x reader.

Smut 18+.

Ingrid is frustrated after a game and she is away on international duty so her girlfriends fix her frustration via face time.

You hated international break because it meant your girls were away from you. With Ingrid having to travel back to Norway, you back to England, and mapi staying in Spain, time zones were tricky so you finding get too talk much. However, this camp international break was different. You stayed behind as a precaution not to Webb your injury. But Ingrid still left, and without her the house seemed empty.

Ever since joining the triad, intimacy was always in tree. Not that any one of you would mind but you n just looked for being together all the time whether you wanted to cuddle, shower, or sex you did all of it together.

With Ingrid leaving for Norway, the desire to have sex went with her.

In the first well off her home mapi and you feel on a routine of rehab, eating together, and cuddling until you fell asleep. You would occasionally face time Ingrid when ever she had time.

Her match day was no different, you went on your usual routine and am house before kick off you found yourself laying on the couch Infront of the TV mapi with mapi laying on your chest.

The match was event full. You and most people that Norway would struggle without their st at strickers but they produced every one wrong with a 4 bill victory. The thing that went wrong in the game was Ingrid’s yellow.

After the game you kissed mapi to celebrate, sent Ingrid a voice mail telling how proud you were of her and how much you both loved her so much, and headed

to your bedroom not thinking Ingrid would have time to respond.

Suddenly, while you were both asleep ,with mapi spooning you for a change, the phone rang at 3AM. Dazzed with sleep you didn't see who was calling you just picked up.

“Hello who us with me.” You say, your voice raspy with sleep and your accent thinker than usual.

“ Hey elskling.” Said a voice you now recognize as Ingrid. Mapi is now awake too, she was as confused as you were.

You put your girlfriend on speaker and say.

“ I didnt think you would call baby. I thought you would be too tired.” You say to her worry in your voice.

“I can't sleep. I just. I miss you. I just want to come home and be worth my girls.” She responds.

“ Carino, please tell us what's up.” Says mapi.

“ It's that s tips yellow card. Plus I don't thino I played as well as I hoped. And I miss you. I miss your smell,the taste of your lips, and your comfort. If I was home I wouldn't be as frustrated.” She says, clearly desperate.

“ Let us face time you from the lap top Ninä.” Says mapi.

You then get up, turn on the lights, and ask your girlfriend. “ what's on your mind ?”

“You will see in a minute.”

After reconnecting with Ingrid you hear mapi say “ baby I need you to follow every word is say. I want you to get comfortable on the bed while we can still see you.” She gently orders the woman. Ingrid does as she was told and Lays down on the bed.

“ Baby we watched the whole game, we think you did spectacularly today. We are so proud of you.” You say.

“Amor, we wish we were there to show you how proud we are of you. Because you deserve it.” Added mapi.

Ingrid’s love language was words of affirmation so saying all those things to her would turn her into a pile of mush.

“Baby I need you to get naked for me.” Says mapi. Her demand made your head turn. “ We can't touch you and give you your reward doesn't mean you can't touch yourself “ she added. You were beyond shocked at mapi's request and the speed at which she got naked in front of her laptop.

“ You are so fucking beautiful my love.” You say at the sight of her beautiful body.

You then feel mapi's hand coax your head towards her and locks her lips with yours. Mapi was a rough kisser but this time she wanted to show off so her kisses were a little bit performative.

Ingrid remained quiet as you made out with mapi, her jaw and eyes wide open.

“ You like the show mi amor?” Asked mapi.

“I bet you are so wet right now. “ She added

Ingrid was indeed wet but she wasn't the only one. Mapi then motioned for you to take off your shorts. “ I need you to lay down, open your legs and do as I say mi amor.” She says.

“See now or baby over here is so wet.”she says as she puts her hand near your core which earns her a small moan.

“ I want you to touch yourself for me Ingrid while I touch you baby over here.” She adds, talking over you.

She then stays to touch your clit slowly rubbing circles. Your core hasn't had any attention in a whole week so as soon as mapi touched you, you stayed moaning.

As a response to Ingrid touching herself, you hear her small quiet moans through the speaker which drives you crazier than mapi's hands.

“ That's it baby. Touch yourself for me. Just like that. Imagine it was me. Imagine it were my hands on your clit.”says mapi

Her words,her touch,and Ingrid's moans were about to drive you over the edge.

“ Can I come please.?,” you ask mapi.

“I am not the one who you get permission from Carino.” She responds

“Ingrid baby please can I come.” you plead.

“Hold on elskling, let's come together.” She responds.

It only took you a couple of minutes to come together.

“That was so good my loves.” Says Ingrid.

You kiss mapi before she responds to Ingrid.

“Anytime you feel anything we are here for you.”

“ We love you so much baby.”

You end the phone call and return to mapi.

“ I think someone needs to have a favor returned.” You say to her.

[copperbadge]

A horror trope that I very much enjoy is the "haunted book" -- a book that affects the reader in some way, like the Necronomicon driving people mad, or Dr. Mabuse's book that hypnotizes its reader into doing his bidding. It recently had a nice moment in the Magnus Archives, with the Leitner subplot, and there's even a hint of it in Frankenstein, when Victor reads the work of a scientist that his professors dismiss as nonsense and becomes obsessively deranged studying the subject matter.

So it's not that I think it's time for a revival and lord knows the word "reboot" has begun to stink of soulless profit (I think we're one, maybe two flops from a reboot of the MCU). I'm not the most current on horror media in any case so maybe it's been done, but if not I do think we oughta start considering the idea of a haunted phone app.

Apps are already designed for this, anyway. In our current era, a lot of retail "apps" are just reskinned browsers that load an optimized version of the company's website, and the goal of most apps and websites is to keep you in the app/website. (Which is why the google mail and tumblr apps both have internal web browsers.) A lot of phone games are designed to keep you in the game and continually redirect you towards microtransactions, and even apps that aren't games often gamify use; "gamification" has come to be a polite euphemism for "creating addictive circumstances".

Alongside this, a lot of recent cults and cultlike organizations have determined that straight religion is not the best way in anymore, and are coming in sidelong through MLMs (Nexium), wellness and dietary orthodoxies (Bikram Yoga, a number of insta/tiktok orthorexia gurus), or political movements (Qanon). So you get a cult, set up like a business, with an app you use for your business -- or even a cult with a "wellness" app that monitors your sleep, eating, location (wait, that's just FitBit) -- and slowly it gamifies you right into attempting to raise a Great Old One using the power of your downstream or a nice big helping of olive oil coffee.

Although I hate those thinkpieces/art pieces that are all about "you're so busy on your phone you can't appreciate the world around you, remember when we read real paper books" so I would require that the protagonist defeat the evil also using a phone app, or at the very least blind the evil using the flashlight function. Locking the book away in a library app and then putting the phone on airplane mode is a nice resolution, followed perhaps by it lighting up even though it's offline with a message "someone is attempting to locate this phone" as the post-credits stinger for the sequel.

This thought brought to you by Duolingo, which recently fed me, in succession, the task of translating from Italian the phrases

Who do you see in the mirror?

We open the curtains and see the light.

The pillows and blankets are red.

[3liza]

are there any meds organizers/pill boxes that are

1. larger than a blush compact

3. have multiple compartments (more than 6)

4. not plastic

5. not ugly

i take about 10-20 pills a day. some of them are enormous, like big vitamins. many of them are as-needed and not daily or scheduled, so weekly organizers are NOT a good solution for me

i don't like distributing those pills into weekly organizer caddies for many reasons, the most important one being that I will just not do it because i don't want to. i find the process odious and difficult even though it's fast and easy. i suspect there is something about the executive function requirements that make doing that task difficult for the same reason I find mailing packages to be like performing a quadrille. i suspect this is due to medical issues relating to my brain

i want to have compartments, but NOT daily compartments. i want to dump all my vitamin b pills into compartment 1, and all my vitamin c pills into compartment 2, and all my Adderall into compartment 3, and so on. because I don't always need or want to take every type of pill I have, most of my medication is "as needed" and this doesn't work for weekly organizers. i have used weekly organizers to just hold different types of pills in each compartment and this works but it's annoying to deal with the days of the week labeling, and the organizers are ugly.

I currently have all my "usually have to take every day" pills which are mostly very small prescription pills in a set of three metal containers that are not ugly. there are 2 traditional "pill boxes" as seen in the 20th century to go in a lady's purse.

and then one Altoids tin that just has everything in it that wouldn't fit in the smaller boxes. and then dozens of bottles of larger pills in the kitchen.

so I have three boxes of pills I have to carry around from room to room all day. i don't like this. and I don't like how there are three separate boxes. i also don't like how everything bigger than this that I can find is made of plastic. and I don't like how the latches aren't secure enough to tolerate being occasionally dropped on the ground. what I want is the same form factor of the tiny pill boxes I have now, but 5x bigger. the weekly caddies are big enough but they're ugly.

i need like. a Mancala board with a secure lid:

they do make Mancala boards that fold shut. however that's still only six compartments. i need the Mancala board to have more pits in it and then it would be perfect. there are variations of Mancala with dozens of pits but they're too rare for me to be able to find the boards on ebay

wait what the fuck

also i DONT want one of these, they're not a good form factor for my use case:

I'm thinking probably a jewelry box or trinket box is the right move here but I want the compartments to be more secure than jewelry boxes usually are, and I also don't want them to be covered in velvet, because velvet is impossible to clean and pills constantly slough off various powders and dust.

simple wood trinket boxes are the right size and shape (about the size of a book) but are usually for putting your weed accoutrements and don't have internal compartments though. i can DIY internal compartments, but that requires effort and organization, the two resources that are least accessible to me. and if I'm going to do that much work it's sort of pointless buying anything to begin with, I may as well just make an entire box myself at home out of bamboo or something. which I might do because I'm fed up!!

something like this could work but I hate the plastic pouches. they will start falling apart in a year

[twelvemonkeyswere]

Brienne and Femininity (and Masculinity)

I’ve been musing how one of the most important topics in Brienne's storyline is femininity, and even though her story isn't finished, we can fairly see what some of her major themes are around this—particularly, how performing or failing at performing femininity affects her both internally and externally.

Often I see people pointing out that, in spite of all of Brienne’s traditionally masculine ways—her clothes, her skill set, her body shape, to name a few—she does not fully reject femininity. That she likes little cute animals and fairy tales and wears dresses, and is shy and blushes frequently. This is an important point because, very often, fantasy settings made the assumption that a woman can only be taken seriously if she goes beyond “her womanhood” and acts and thinks “like a man,” as opposed to other girls who are too busy mending or wanting romance. Brienne challenges those tendencies that GRRM saw in his contemporaries. Things have changed a lot since (hello The Locked Tomb, for example), but you can still see where he is working from, and how many of the aspects of Brienne's story still resonate with more modern audiences because, well, sexism hasn't stopped existing. It's also important because the larger asoiaf and got fandoms often refuse to see this side of her, reducing her to a walking sword or a cardboard cut out of a pushover.

Now, my main issue here is that I feel several interpretations of Brienne have now gone on the other direction, and focus so much on Brienne PERFORMING traditional femininity—wearing luxurious dresses, using make up, accepting lavishing gifts, or wondering if she can be desired, for example—that we've gone sometimes on the opposite direction. I feel like many times we’re afraid or do not know how to approach characterizing her as someone who rejects aspects of femininity without making her into another “not like other girls” stereotype.

My two cents on the matter is that if we focus too much in what Brienne can't but "wants" to perform, we forget that she is, in fact, gladly rejecting some common impositions of femininity in her society.

Beginning with swordplay at a young age, for example, she was very glad to ditch a more traditional education in order to learn how to fight the way we know men are taught in asoiaf/got. She is also explicitly more comfortable in men's clothes. We all like the scene where Jaime makes an effort to give her a dress and she appreciates it, but we don't even find out what happened to the dress, because, presumably, the dress itself is not THAT important, at least not as much as the fact Jaime gave her gifts as a form of appreciation. Dresses have been used in Brienne's past to mock her (the event with the bear being the most recent one), and the important part is that Jaime is the only one who has given her one without that ulterior motive. The point of the scene is that where everyone undermines and underestimates her, he is acting the opposite way. We’re seeing how the relationship between them has evolved and that he is doing his best to mend what has happened and what he has done. She is given a dress and a sword as symbols that someone else in the story is beginning to appreciate her for all she is.

Beyond that, we even get details on the old shield Brienne got at Harrenhal, but not a word about the dress. Brienne explicitly doesn't really like being in dresses, she prefers mail and breeches, and feels more at ease in them than anything else. This is not her hating dresses because she is above them. I can’t remember well but as far as we know it’s just her preference: I don’t recall her saying she hates dresses, just that she prefers trousers. She must have been wearing dresses her whole life! It’s not likely she is unused to them. But we do know the act of being given a dress is important in Brienne’s story. The problem is not that they can’t make dresses for her, the problem is that everyone who forces her to wear a dress wants to signal how lacking she is as a woman, trying to fit her in a box too small for her real shape and then mocking her because she doesn’t meet their standard. The problem is they want to make her uncomfortable and they want to humiliate her, because she dares to exist in a way that doesn’t conform to patriarchal ideals. And the problem is that she likes to wear trousers and mail. She likes to wear masculine clothes, and they want her to be very aware of how much they disapprove.

And we also hear a great deal about marrying and having children out of duty. There's a certain loss she feels there because she believes that, at that point, all those missed opportunities will never present themselves again. All her life, she grew up with a dichotomy that dictated that the chance of having a family or children was through duty or none at all, because she is her father’s heir and—they kept telling her—nobody would want an ugly, masculine, temperamental girl as a wife. They could only want her for the money she brought. The point of the story is that, once again, failing the standards of femininity has forced her into a mentality where she thinks she can’t be loved because nobody would like who and what she is. But even then, even with that thorn in her mind, she still feels relieved she didn't have to perform these particular duties. The only thing she’s sad about is that she thinks she's missed any chance at having a family at all and will never know what that might be like. She doesn’t actively want babies or even to be married. She is still young, and at least to me, she seems to view these things in hypothetical rather than explicit goals or wants. She thinks that, at 20, there is no opportunity for her to experience these things because of how her society works. It’s the lack of choice that she mourns, down the line. But she rejects that particularly role that femininity imposes on her now. She didn’t want it, and she is happy it didn’t go through. She literally fought an old man to prove how much she didn’t want those impositions.

All this is interesting to me because Brienne also sort of thinks of herself as her father's son as well as her father's daughter. It almost slips her mouth once or twice. She is aware, I think, that many times the differences between a son and a daughter boil down not really to gender but to the sort of duty they perform. And she wants to do the sorts of things sons do, too. Men regularly learned to fight and wore the clothes she liked best and used hard-earned skills in a way she wanted to use them. There are layers to this (we’ll get to that in a bit) but she is, I think, very aware of her masculinity, and, if left to her own devices, she seems comfortable in it. The problem is she is NOT left to her own devices.

Most of Brienne's self doubt comes from outside forces. As a woman, they underestimate her. As a woman, they think she is stupid. As a gender non-conforming woman, every jape uttered goes directly to her womanhood. As a woman, if she looks the way she does and dresses the way she does and fights the way she does, when she expresses any vulnerable emotion, any shred of “femininity,” she is mocked for it. She likes dancing and beautiful things and pretty boys but a woman as masculine as she is is not the sort of person who gets to express those preferences without judgment from those around her.

The point is Brienne’s world wants her miserable either way: being unable to be a woman the way they demand of her, because she is too much “like a man” for it, or being unable to be a man, because she is too much a woman for that. The point is she can’t win regardless of what she does. Because that’s how sexism works.

But Brienne’s story is, I think, one about choices. The thing is that the world makes it harder for her, but she shouldn't have to be one thing or the other. She shouldn’t have to be defined by one or the other. If she wants to fight in the mud and smell roses and wear chain-mail and talk to charming men, she should be able to choose all of those things. I think it’s easy to focus too much in what aspects of femininity Brienne likes or dislikes instead of looking at what the story is proposing, which is to look at what Brienne,as a person, likes or dislikes. What she wants. Her parallel story to Jaime is about how the world will always try to put folks in boxes, especially those who, for some reason or another, do not easily fit in those boxes. The question is not “what feminine/masculine parts of Brienne is she happy performing” but rather “what does Brienne want, and why does she feel like she cannot get it and doesn't dare ask.”

This is also what drives her to servitude. There’s a phrase out there that says that if you don’t think you can be liked, you try to become useful, so at least there’s a reason to keep you around. It’s heartbreaking to see how Brienne’s vision of herself has been so skewed by the emotional abuse, parental neglect, and bullying she’s experienced since a young age. She doesn’t think anyone will grow close to her, so at least she can be close to people by serving them. She wants to put her skills to use, she wants to find a place where she fits, where she can be more herself, but she isn’t sure what that looks like or how to find it. She’s still searching, and learning many things on the way.

And Brienne is still very young. We can see her confidence growing and her worldview challenged and she is beginning to see the realities of herself and of the world around her through various trials by fire. Misogyny makes her feel incomplete, but we know the things she trusts about herself while simultaneously seeing the way she constantly doubts others. How she can't never express all of herself without constant judgment or mockery.

I feel like yes, the fact Brienne doesn't reject all traditional femininity is really important to her themes, but by extension, it's as important that shedoes reject some of those traditional expressions of femininity. What she is truly rejecting is imposition, not femininity. What she truly needs to embrace is freedom, not masculinity. She's making her own vows, breaking her own promises, going through her own mistakes. She is learning the hard way. Agency in a world of limited choices is one of Brienne's main themes too. There are moral issues that go deep within her story as well as examinations of the effects of war and the struggle to find authenticity and connection in a community that refuses to acknowledge yours, a community drenched in pretense and lost in performance.

And I think it’s easy to get too caught up in her wanting to be a girlfriend or a mother or wearing a dress that we bypass the whole conversation around why that matters at all. I feel like Brienne's success isn't going to come from her fully embracing all her feminine traits or fully accepting all her masculine traits but from being able, down the line, to be exactly who she is.

[aboringredmop]

k still don't know how im gonna post the videos (YouTube? unlisted?someone please help) but I can't sleep so I thought it'd write down whatever I remember happening!

(edit: here's the full recording! )

Becky and Joe walked on stage wearing sunglasses and red leather jackets and threw 3 of the trio plushies into the crowd. didn't get one unfortunately but it's really cool some people got free plushies :)

they made this robot child called the Inspiration Child, who's clearly meant to be a nod to ai (can learn from our show and generate it's own content!)

they explained how they met (and had some dodgy animated retelling), and how they started with small projects like commercials and music videos, until they came up with designs of the trio (and a mysterious fourth fella)

they made the designs first, then made the set, then the song and finally wrote the script for creativity. red guy was just a red mop head with legs at first ("alien squid thing") but Joe put the red guy head on for shits and giggles once and Becky thought it was hilarious so they kept it in the show

they were really not expecting it to blow up, and when Sundance called because they wanted to show creativity Becky thought it was a scam caller lol

they talked about the kickstarter and the credit card fraud kid. the mailed him saying "hey maybe dont do that" but the kid didnt know how to undo it cuz he just found a website full of credit card information and went ham, so Becky and Joe had to contact kickstarter because people were pulling out of the funding because they thought the project was overfunded (kickstarter was very difficult to contact)

they also made (lighthearted) fun of nsfw fluffybird art ((no padlock 😔) "using OUR characters to act out their SICK FANTASIES" - Becky) and theorists, especially because most if not all of the webseries is just them fucking around.

Inspiration Child also says something along the lines of "wow what a cool show with a great message of how corrupt the media is. I hate the media!"

Becky and Joe had these rules to make the show as vague as possible (no pop culture references, no names, no swearing and way too much detail put into small things)(the duck guy drag queen absolutely obliterates the no swearing rule lol)

they talk about the pilot, how they focused too much on the story because they felt like they had to due to it being on the big screen now, and how it ended up ruining the atmosphere and such of the pilot. they did show the entire thing sped up but my phone sucks ass so I could not get it to focus correctly. I'll see what I can salvage so you people can dissect frames of your blorbo you're Legally Not Allowed To See (which is also the official reason we don't get the pilot)

also pilot concept art showed that Mean Steve is in fact just called Key

they showed a whole post-it wall full of ideas for the tv show. don't know how much I got on footage, but what stood out most to me were 2 episodes called Money and Christmas. Joe mentioned "clock in a wheelchair" specifically

also really fun fact. Becky made the Lesley suit during covid, and pretty much threatened Baker into writing a human character into the show to wear it. concept art also shows Lesley with a mask made out of the same fabric, don't know if this was part of the original suit tho

they showed Warrens old models (?). he was gonna be a wayy more ugly looking silicone pug-worm thing y'all got lucky with the bald fuck

lily and todney were directly based off of some cancelled show about two porcelain doll children with panda parents. do not for the life of me remember what it was called but Becky and Joe were very enthousiastic about it (UPDATE: Candy and Andy!)

international release of the show soon!

Inspiration Child talks about what he's learned and sings a little song, then generates his own dhmis inspired content of a cult meeting in a forest at night. the dhmis Discord server called this "potential new content" but I doubt it

3 cultists walk on stage, face the screen backs to the crowd, drop their cloaks and boom! drag queens!!!

they were not mentioned on the site or during earlier parts of the show at all so they were a complete surprise. I asked Becky about it later during the night and she said she really wanted them there, so she asked and they were excited to! hope this means more official content with them soon I love them

they dance to There's Three Of Us, then Duck lipsings the shredder song which turns into a techno remix while Red and Yellow dance during the background

then Duck and Yellow make out while Red tries to undress to the instrumentals of the Fucked Up Part of Creativity but can't get out of his suit on time before the song ends

the drag queens, Becky and Joe and the Inspiration Child walk around during the meet and greet later and I got signatures from all of them! except inspiration child he didn't have thumbs

the drag queens were so fucking funny. Duck adopted inspiration child and loudly yelled at everyone to "GET AWAY FROM MY FUCKING CHILD" (their duck voice is sooo good). yellow stood in a corner staring at a wall for like 10 minutes and red was constantly awkwardly hovering just outside the frames of pictures (and also could not see shit lmao)

Becky liked my shirt! (the one with the melting trio heads) said she handdrew it

I'll post the signatures and some more stuff tomorrow because it is. 5 am

edit Heres the signatures! yellow guys is Italian I think? and means hi I love you :)

(the liyskaen is duck trying to spell my name. they got pretty close)

[cha-melodius]

firstprince +💚

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed (I said no more than 500 words and of course this is 589 lol. Sorry for the cliffhanger; I just can't help myself. send me a heart and get a ficlet)

When the summons comes, Henry refuses to believe it’s real.

It is, course—heavy paper, dark ink, embossed seal. Your assistance is respectfully requested concerning a matter of some urgency…

Henry doesn’t read the rest. He knows what it says. The whole world knows what it says. Every since the American President’s son was cursed and fell into a deep and unending slumber, which was supposedly only able to be cured by true love’s kiss, there’d been a steady stream of hopeful girls through the White House. Still, Alex remained stubbornly asleep. Henry hadn’t heard of any men being invited, though, which is one reason he’s convinced this was a mistake.

“The palace staff must have mixed up our mail,” he tells Bea, trying unsuccessfully to shove the invitation at her.

Bea just gives him an exasperated look. “It has your name on it.”

“Then someone at the White House made an error in addressing it.”

“Because ‘Beatrice’ is so close to ‘Henry’. Happens all the time, really. The other day I got a polo club invitation meant for you.”

“Really?” Henry asks.

“No,” she huffs. “This is for you, dumbass.”

Henry stares down at it, chewing his lip. “But why me? Out of everyone else?”

“You didn’t hear?” Bea asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Hear what?” He’s been actively trying not to read news about Alex’s condition, actually.

“It’s supposed to be someone he’s touched before. Otherwise, he’d still be awake. Someone must have remembered you two shaking hands in Rio.”

“But Alex hates me,” he says plaintively. This is, of course, the other reason this must be a mistake.

“So, now’s your chance,” Bea tells him with far too much mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Go lay one on him, and he’ll never remember.”

“Bea,” Henry gasps, horrified. “I would never—”

She rolls her eyes at him. “It was a joke, Haz. But the fact of the matter is that you don’t have much of a choice. Think of how it would look for international relations if the Crown refused a request from the President.”

And so, Henry finds himself with sweating palms and his heart in his throat, staring down at the most beautiful boy in the world as he lays sleeping in his bedroom at the White House. The First Family are all wan and sallow as his interminable condition wears on them, but Alex himself looks vibrant, as if he’d just nodded off. Perks of magic sleep, Henry supposes. A terrifying woman in stilettos and pencil skirt gives Henry instructions that he barely hears, then they all file out to wait.

Henry wrings his hands and twists his signet ring and shifts on his feet, knowing he can’t put this off for much longer. He’s not sure what he’s more terrified of—that it won’t work, or that it will.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” he murmurs. For the past, for this, for what may come.

He leans in—and hesitates. The aroma of cinnamon strikes him, drawing him in like a gravitational field he can’t escape, and he sways closer. When their lips brush, Henry feels it—not the kiss, but the fire that it kindles under his skin, the flame that flashes down his spine and out to his toes, the inferno that sets him alight. It’s too much, it’s going to burn him up—

Alex’s lips part and he gasps, long eyelashes fluttering as he wakes, and Henry stumbles backwards. He stares at Henry, rubs his eyes, then looks again.

“It's you?!”

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!! I really appreciate your blog. I've been looking for fics told through, or just including, letters as a main theme. Thank you, have a lovely day.

Hi! You will want to check our #epistolary tag for more fics like this. Here are more to add...

A Selection of Unsent Letters from a Demon by Heretic1103 (T)

At the urging of his human friends and his grief therapy group, Crowley begins writing letters to Aziraphale that he never intends to send.

the wallpaper (slowly, slowly peeling off) by rainbowumbrella (M)

Aziraphale should put the letters away, he knew. He should just scoop them all up and slip them back into the box. No point dilly-dallying. Muriel was waiting, and so was Heaven. And yet - And yet he found himself scanning the contents of the first one in his hand, his back finding a rest on the shelf behind him, his legs crossing neatly beneath him, all without a single thought to his perfectly clean trousers. What did they matter? He hated them, anyway. *** A falling book leads Aziraphale to find a box containing all the letters he and Crowley have exchanged through the years.

Letters Unsent by Beet_Feet (T)

"You took my letter?!" Crowley sat up and twisted to look at Aziraphale with his mouth agape. "I did nothing of the sort! I found it in my notebook—the notebook in which I had written you a letter that mysteriously disappeared." "This letter?" Crowley reached down to the floorboard and held the letter up in front of Aziraphale's very flabbergasted face. He had dropped it when the angel appeared in the Bentley. "Where did you get that?!" "I found it on my car. I think someone has been playing us, Angel. Did Muriel pay you a visit today, by any chance?" (Crowley and Aziraphale vent their frustrations by writing letters they will never send to each other, but Muriel decides to meddle.)

A Letter for Later by ngk_is_cool (G)

"Anyway," his eyes returned to the newspaper, and he continued reading, “another exhibition is A Letter for Later. It will include clay tablets from Mesopotamia, vellum from Wessex, and even a modern Palm Pilot that was found at Battersea Park full of unsent love letters. It will explore the theme of unrequited love over the development of humanity…." His eyes scanned quickly the rest of the article, and he hummed in satisfaction. "It will open two weeks from now, and apparently in high demand, so much that the article recommended buying tickets in advance. Would you like to go, my dear?" Or - Crowley wrote and destroyed (or, at least, he thought did) love letters. Now they are about to be published, and he has a great plan to make sure it won't happen.

Postcards From Paris by ghostrat (G)

Crowley has just moved into his Mayfair apartment and finds a postcard addressed to the previous tenant. With no return address, he's left to collect and read the mysterious A.Z.F.'s adventures across Europe, where he hunts for bizarre bibles and rates ridiculously expensive wine in his free time. The question is: How will A.Z.F. react when Crowley finally gets his return address and writes back? --- It was different, he knew, to accidentally read someone else’s postcard versus intentionally perusing one in place of good newspaper over coffee. Crowley decided he was allowed that indecency, to balance out the good deed of safeguarding the mail in the first place. He kicked his feet up onto his desk, scooped up the takeaway coffee that was brought around by their newest intern, and settled in to read some of the most densely crowded handwriting he’d ever laid eyes on.

You’ve Got Mail by SouthDrarryReturned (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley are hereditary enemies, rival book shop owners engaged in corporate warfare. They are also pen pals that are perfect for one another. They don’t know about that bit though. A.K.A the Good Omen’s remake of the classic romcom You’ve Got Mail that no one asked for.

- Mod D

[soupandsimple]

Bathtub Spider (with James Potter )

[ boyfriend James getting rid of a spider for you ]

* fluff! tiny suggestive comment at the end

** still here, just been busy with other things/don’t want to force writing! but here’s a little something 😘

……………

“James!”

“What?”

You poke your head out the bathroom and wait for him to appear. He knows by now that if you don’t reply to his what it’s because you need him to come to wherever you are.

“What is it?” he asks now, coming down the hallway.

“There’s a spider in here!” you say, opening the door further for him to enter. “In the bathtub! I hope it hasn’t got away, I was about to run a bath when I saw it just sitting there!”

James looks in the tub and sees the medium sized spider you were referring to. “Right, well first of all, A.) why wasn’t I invited to your little bath party and B.) where’s the cardboard and cup?”

You hated when creepy, crawly things came inside but you also hated seeing them get killed. The cardboard in question was just any piece of flat paper you could get your hands on when this occurred, and the cup was an old, clear plastic cup that used to have a lid before it broke that was now just used to water your indoor plants.

“I just told you what happened, how could I already have those things? I couldn’t leave the bathroom unattended in case the spider tried to leave! I’ll be right back” you say, sprinting out the room to get the items needed.

James chuckles at your jumpiness and looks down at the spider, “Don’t worry we’ll get you out of here alive. She’s a literal sweetheart, she couldn’t bear it any other way” he happily assures it.

With no time wasted, you run back in with a sturdy, throwaway advertisement that came in the mail that morning and the plant water cup and hand them to James.

Let it be known, James was no more a fan of bugs than you. Seeing them from a distance didn’t bother him but having to get up nice and close to get them in between the cardboard and the cup was not an easy chore. For you and only you, he’d gladly do it but never without a bit of internal panic.

“Okay..fuck...” his voice shakes as he bends down toward the tub. “C’mon let’s make this easy pal,” he asks of the spider but instead of it climbing onto the paper James held out in front of it, the spider tries to scurry off in the opposite direction.

You let out a little shriek and run for the door to escape but with a quick (no doubt, fight or flight) maneuver, James manages to get it.

“I got it baby, don’t worry!” he tells you, slowly standing up with the spider safe and alive between the cup and paper.

He exhales a sigh of relief now that the hard part is over and keeps an eye on the spider as you quickly lead him to the front door of the flat. You’re on the third floor of the building so he has some ways to go with the trapped arachnid but appreciative you very much are. “Thank you for getting it honey, love you so much” you say, opening the door with a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah yeah, you better be naked by the time I get back” he teases as he steps out. <3

[1d1195]

Love and Dryer Sheets V

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

The good news if you're still liking this story: we're gonna squeeze one more part out of this series. Hope you're still enjoying. Thank you for reading.

~7.5k words (she's a bit longer. Got a lot going on and I think she gets kinda messy like all the relationships here.)

Warnings: angst, toxic relationships, maybe a little fluff.

“Here,” she offered appearing at his side as he started to fish his stuff back out of the washer. He turned to her and she thought she might melt. Harry was so beautiful. His eyes, his mouth, his skin. He was tall and she knew he was warm and strong. She knew what his lips tasted like. It was so unfair and yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

Good. Her heart was practically giggling with delight.

She didn’t tell Niall about the kiss. She thought it wouldn’t do any good at all. Especially because Niall would threaten to kill Harry and she wasn’t fully sure he even knew how to make a fist. Plus, with his impending year-long move, it seemed like too much to put on his plate at the time.

But when he eventually found out, she imagined he would be pretty mad at her. So, it took her a really long time to decide not to tell him. Especially while they were spending practically every waking moment together. Fortunately, that allowed her to refrain from think about Harry for seven days straight.

Or...more so... not think about him that much. With eyes the color of muted emeralds it was like her mind was on a yellow brick road right back to him whenever she had a moment of time to think about something other than her unending heartbreak.

She was careful to rearrange her laundry schedule so as not to run into him. She took the stairs instead of the elevator. Once she saw him coming in from the rainy wind and she darted into the mail room just to avoid him. It was childish and stupid, running from him like that. But she couldn’t help it. Seeing him would make her cave.

But you want to be friends with him. Her heart reminded her.

I don’t care, she responded internally.

Even I know that’s a lie, her brain grumbled in response.

Work provided her great distraction as well. Sad, of course— because what else was supposed to happen in her life these days? —but it was a distraction, nonetheless. Sighing, she rubbed her forehead looking over her schedule for the next day, thinking about what needed to be accomplished, what activities she needed to print in the morning, and priorities she needed to complete.

She really needed to go grocery shopping.

She had spent most of her last nights with Niall eating out or getting takeaway while they packed his stuff. He was subletting to a friend for the year. Mostly to hold his place. The Missus would be traveling overseas to be with Niall by the end of next month, which was extremely exciting for their relationship. “Looks like I’ll be all by myself at thirty-five,” she joked in with him labeling cardboard boxes as kitchen.

Niall smirked. “M’sure I can convince her that we can be a throuple,” he winked at her.

“Sorry Ni, I hate sharing,” she smirked knowing the idea was truer than he would know for a while. She planned on telling him within the first couple of months—once he was a little settled and she was surely over it.

Plus, she wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t come flying back before he unpacked.

But Niall was officially in flight. She was watching her phone making sure his flight didn’t suddenly fall off the radar or that it didn’t indicate it was exploding mid-flight. He was going to call her as soon as he landed. She was third on the list after his girlfriend and mother and was not to panic unless it approached an hour of waiting for his call. Those were her instructions.

Timing her grocery shopping was exactly what she needed at that moment.

If she had gotten the parking spot she wanted, it might not have happened. If Niall had called two seconds earlier, she would have been answering her phone outside instead of in the lobby. She would have been in the elevator. Or she would have stopped for the mail and wouldn’t have been juggling the bags and her phone.

But instead, everything happened at once. She wanted to ensure Niall was there safely, so she struggled to answer her phone with the groceries attached to her arms.

“Hey, Ni! How was your—”

Before she could finish her question, the phone was knocked from her hands almost violently along with the bags of groceries she was carrying. Naturally it contained her eggs. She stumbled a bit nearly sliding ungraciously in the cracked egg mixture on the floor. Her phone skittered across the floor near the entry way to the mail cubby’s.

“Jesus, watch where you’re going,” it was the beautiful woman who felt she was in the way in the mail space back when she first moved in. She was just as beautiful as the last time she ran into her. Her hair was long and flowing, her eyelashes would make an angel jealous, if she smiled—and she realized it seemed like it would take an act of God to get her to smile—she imagined she had perfect teeth that were hidden behind her pretty full lips.

She scrambled to get to her feet, her leggings getting egg yolk on them. Thank God she bought paper towels as well.

“Ava! What the fuck?”

It was pathetic that she knew Harry’s voice without looking. She was struggling to get the paper towels out of the plastic. She could hear Niall calling from her phone a few feet away from the mess as she struggled to get her items that weren’t broken back into the bags. She desperately wanted to answer Niall, but she was practically mute. “She was in the way!”

“Ava!” Harry hissed.

“For God’s sake Harry. You’re always worried about everyone else around us but me.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Harry turned from Ava to glare at her. She swallowed the lump in her throat feeling like she had done something bad. It was the first time she had seen Harry in a week, and he looked...

Exhausted.

She wished she could ask him a thousand questions because even though she felt terrible about what she had done, she missed Harry more than she could ever describe. Niall was no longer yelling. She wondered if he hung up. At least she knew he was alive. Hopefully he wasn’t boarding a plane right back.

“I’ll be right out,” Harry snapped as Ava rolled her eyes and headed out the door. It could only have been a total of two minutes, but it felt like hours between the moment Ava bumped into her and the present. It felt like a front of cold air left the room the moment Ava exited. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief—almost the same one that Harry released as she left.

The room was silent. She heard Niall calling from her phone again and she finally grabbed it, trying not to get more egg yolk on her hands and none in her hair if she could help it.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?” Niall asked, his voice hitching nervously.

“Niall, I’m so sorry. I’ll call you back in like...half an hour,” she whispered.

“Are you telling me that the Wicked Witch of the West is Harry’s girlfriend? I cannot believe you apologize to her,” he spoke without answering her statement. “No wonder he spends all his time doing laun—”

She hung up before he could say anymore just in case Harry could hear. She hadn’t mentioned the break they had embarked upon to Niall. If he said anything, she could easily say that his move had monopolized the entire week and it worked because she found out he had a girlfriend. She just wouldn’t say how she found out he had a girlfriend.

Of course, someone as beautiful as Ava would be with someone like Harry. Someone equally beautiful. They would make gorgeous children. Take the most perfect pictures. It made sense that the pair of them would be in a relationship.

Except Harry is nice and she is wicked. The voice in her head and her heart agreed.

“Christ, love. M’sorry,” he whispered softly.

It was the first time they had spoken since she told him they couldn’t see each other for a while. That they couldn’t be friends. His voice was so gentle and warm. She couldn’t believe that in just over a week she craved hearing it. It felt like she was basking in the sun. But she shouldn’t have been thinking like that. It was also...jarring...to hear the difference in his tone between how he had spoken to Ava compared to how he was speaking to her.

“It’s okay,” she murmured finally getting a swath of paper towels to clean up the mess. “I was in the way.”

Harry knelt beside her pulling the roll of paper towels from her hands with an exasperated sigh, leaving his lips again as he started to help clean up. “Y’weren’t, though,” he mumbled.

She shrugged trying to ignore the crazy beat of her heart being so close to him again. It was just a week, but it felt like years since she had seen him, but also like no time had passed at all. As if they hadn’t stopped speaking and this was nearly normal.

“You don’t have to help,” she said. “I’m sure she’s waiting.”

“She can wait,” he grumbled.

“Harry.”

“I’ll get y’some eggs while we’re out,” he promised.

“That’s not necessary,” she shook her head, her cheeks warming.

“Yes, it is, I would buy y’some new leggings too if—”

“I’ll just wash them, seriously.”

They were quiet. Harry grabbed the trash can that was over by the elevator and dumped the paper towels in. They cleaned up the rest of the mess in silence. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. But she could tell from the tone in his voice that he wasn’t apologizing for just the spill.

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault.” He sighed the frustration evident on his face, in his body language, and in the way he was breathing. “Harry,” she whispered quietly pressing a hand to his arm. “It’s alright,” she promised. It was ridiculous she was comforting him. She doesn’t even know how Ava bumped into her. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but she didn’t like how guilty Harry felt. He looked at her hand on his arm for a moment and she pulled it away after a gentle, comforting squeeze. “You should go,” she smiled gently at him. A slight wrinkle of her cute nose.

“M’really sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s just eggs,” she shrugged. “It’s okay.”

He nodded. They both knew it was more than eggs. It was kissing in the laundry room behind Ava’s back. No matter how wicked she seemed, it wasn’t okay.

Even if she’s the worst? Her heart asked internally.

I’m on your side this time. Her brain answered.

She ignored them both. “M’sorry,” he repeated. “See you around...I guess,” he murmured. Just like before.

Her heart felt a pang of sadness course through her and she watched him exit, glancing back just once to give her a tired wave. She felt tired, too. Tired of hiding her emotions and tired of missing Harry.

But that would have to wait because she really wanted to get out of her clothes covered in egg yolks.

*

“I can’t believe you apologized.”

Niall’s face was backlit by the dark evening of his surroundings. His new place was sparse since none of his stuff had arrived yet. But somehow his move was overshadowed by the insanity that took place that afternoon.

“I don’t know, Ni...” she sighed.

“I...I don’t think you should count Harry out yet... Obviously, he’s doing laundry because he’s miserable.”

“That’s not an excuse for flirting,” she grumbled. Maybe Niall wouldn’t be upset with Harry when she told him.

“No of course not, princess. But like...” he sighed. “That girl is a witch. I wasn’t kidding...I can see why he would want to flirt with someone pretty and nice like you.”

She felt her face warm at Niall’s assessment when there was a knock on her door. “Hang on.”

“The theme for today.”

She went to the door just in time to see the elevator closing. On the floor mat was a paper bag. A frowny face was drawn in black marker. She felt her heart flutter already knowing what was inside the bag. She opened it anyway. There she found a dozen eggs beneath a pair of folded leggings with the tag intact and a receipt. She sighed looking at the elevator already long gone.

She returned to her phone call. “S’that Harry?” Niall asked.

“Probably,” she muttered.

“Probably?”

“He left a bag of eggs. And a new pair of leggings.”

“Wow, he guessed your clothing size. He must be in love with you.”

She shook her head wishing what he said was true. “Niall, stop.”

He sighed. “I miss you already, darling.”

She smiled weakly. “I miss you too.”

“You should come visit before the year’s out. Show you around my old neighborhood.”

She nodded, wishing she could hug her best friend right then, through the phone screen. “I’d like that.”

“Have a good rest of your day, princess.”

*

It was a public space. Unavoidable. They were definitely going to run into each other. It was a matter of when not if. When Harry arrived, a full basket on his hip, he turned at the sight of her. The hammering of her heart didn’t stop her from sighing deeply.

“Wait...It’s a free country,” she mumbled and shrugged her assent. No use in monopolizing communal space. She was an adult and could handle the pair of them doing laundry at the same time. As long as she didn’t think about his mouth and how it tasted like mint gum and heaven.

Hesitantly, he picked a different washer than he normally did, a few spaces down from her rather than across from her.  They didn’t speak. They didn’t even look at each other. Her heart rate felt like it was a hummingbird’s wing. It felt so warm in the laundry room.

Talk to him! Her heart was whispering.

Do not talk to him. Her brain protested.

She was fortunate the laundry covered her awkward huff of laughter listening to the battle she was feeling internally. Harry didn’t seem to register it. Maybe they would just never speak again.

*

It seemed like that would be the case as far as she could tell. She had lost count how many times they had sat silently reading and waiting for their laundry loads to finish.

Harry was once more in the laundry room at the same time as her. She essentially ignored his presence for the sake of her heart and mind. Although, she felt her heart would be grateful if she started talking to him again. It had been two weeks since the eggs incident. Three weeks since they agreed to not see each other anymore.

The only chattering interaction they had was a few days ago when Harry obviously forgot laundry detergent after he had thrown all his stuff into the washer. Naturally, the little dispensary was empty, again. Unlike the last time he checked it, he didn’t punch the side of the machine. Instead, he just sighed heavily, grumbling to himself.

“Here,” she offered appearing at his side as he started to fish his stuff back out of the washer. He turned to her and she thought she might melt. Harry was so beautiful. His eyes, his mouth, his skin. He was tall and she knew he was warm and strong. She knew what his lips tasted like. It was so unfair and yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

Good. Her heart was practically giggling with delight.

“Oh...thanks, love.”

She wondered if Harry felt the spark of electricity that pierced her skin when Harry’s hand touched hers grabbing the jug from her.

He did.

*

“You probably think m’an idiot.”

She was literally trying to reach into the dryer to grab the sock that had clung with static to the back of the machine when she heard his voice. Her heart skipped a beat as it always did when she heard him. There was no denying how excited she was to hear his voice. She pulled herself out of the machine and turned to him. “What?” She asked her eyebrows pinching together. It was a weird way to enter a room, let alone start a conversation. Especially after what she would have to call a breakup for lack of a better term.

“For being with someone like Ava,” he started to pace along the length of the machines. He ran his hands through his hair making a mess of the curls. She thought her heart might break. She had experienced this kind of frustration firsthand. “Everyone says it. That they think m’stupid. That she’s awful and I should ‘ve broken up with her ages ago...” he mumbled. She frowned. “But...we’ve been together for s’long and—"

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she interrupted quickly. Her voice was even, and he nearly bumped into the back wall as he spun to look at her. She was holding a pair of sweatpants in her hands, but she was making specific, intense eye contact with Harry. Even if she shouldn’t be talking to him. She didn’t want him to think that she thought poorly of him.

“Y’don’t?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head. “It’s no one’s business but yours and Ava’s,” her name tasted bad in her mouth, but she knew it was because it was coated with jealousy. She didn’t have to like Ava, but that didn’t mean that Harry couldn’t. Harry also liked her. It seemed pretty obvious. She can’t imagine him not liking her and nearly ruining his relationship with Ava. She knew she was different than Ava. Maybe she was willing to believe that Harry saw good in people. She did the same thing. It would be hypocritical of her to not understand Harry’s plight when she suffered from the very same thing for nearly three years as well.

He stopped pacing and moved to his regular washer. He perched on top and watched her fold her laundry for a few moments. It was like before he ruined everything with a kiss. He wished he had listened to the little voice in his head all those months leading up to the kiss. Of course, it was right. Of course. She didn’t pay mind to Harry sitting there.

“Can we be friends?” He asked quietly. “Please?”

Niall had left for a year. Her family didn’t really live all that close. Her coworkers, while great people, were work friends. Everyone she worked with dealt with very sensitive cases and that had a lot of emotion. If they saw each other outside of work, she worried it would carry over too heavily, all that weighty emotion.

She could really use a friend.

But she wasn’t sure Harry wasn’t the right friend. She messed up, even though Harry had owned up to the mistake. She was part of it, and she worried that if she was friends with Harry, it would be a slippery slope to fall for someone she shouldn’t.

“I promise I won’t kiss y’again,” he murmured. As if he had read her mind. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Mistakes happen,” she shrugged. “I just don’t—”

“Sunshine,” he interrupted. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. But it wasn’t a mistake. I shouldn’t have called it that. Kissing you was like...breathing fresh air for the first time in...years.”

She closed her eyes, wishing she could do something about it. “You can’t stay stuff like that.”

There was an antagonizing pause while he thought this over. “I won’t bring it up again,” he promised.

There’s no harm in being friends. Her heart was whispering to her. You’re a great friend.

She looked at him for the first time, head on. He was already looking at her. His pretty green eyes. She knew his pretty pink lips were soft and warm. She knew his skin was warm too. Her heart skipped a beat. “We can be friends,” she said softly.

He sighed with relief and hurried over to wrap his arms around her. He squeezed her tightly. “Missed y’so much,” he mumbled into her hair.

Oh, this was a mistake. The voice in her head tutted.

Let it happen. I miss Niall. Her heart reminded the voice in response.

She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent and dropped the pair of socks she had in her hands on the floor so she could hug him back. Please don’t let this be a mistake.

*

They resumed their reading and chatting relationship as if the few weeks spent not talking hadn’t happened. Harry watched her fold laundry as if it were the most amazing thing in the world. It didn’t help that he thought she was the most amazing thing in the world.

You need to relax.His conscience was back, analyzing his every movement and every word he spoke to the pretty girl.

I have a handle on it. He thought back to the little voice. It was just the laundry room. At most it was an hour of a day that they spent chatting together. Or even not chatting when they had books.

“How’s work been?” He asked, trying to fill the silence for a moment.

He also wanted to fill the silence so he wouldn’t hug her again. He refrained from touching her after that because it felt so right and good. It made him feel whole. So maybe, Harry refrained from it. She seemed to have no problem compartmentalizing the moment that nearly ruined their friendship.

Which would have been a travesty because she was a really good friend. “It’s good. One of my patients got some good news so we’ve been navigating that, and it’s been really exciting because they’ve been dealing with struggles for a super long time,” she explained.

“That’s great,” he smiled. It felt nice to talk to her again. He was glad she was doing okay.

Harry was doing alright too. Work was normal and good. But he and Ava seemed to be fighting less and less. Which was great for his anger and his psyche. It allowed him to think about how he shouldn’t have kissed this lovely girl too. Even if he couldn’t tell her that.

Harry wasn’t intentionally mean-spirited. So, he didn’t bring up Ava unless she inquired.

“Can I ask a question that’s been bugging me?” She asked. He nodded. He was an open book with her. He had to be now. “Did you tell her?”

It was no use lying, but Harry kind of wanted to lie to her. He shook his head. “No.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but it seemed that Harry didn’t want to. He didn’t want it to be a thing. “Are you...going to?”

He shook his head silently. He knew that was wrong. Of course, he should have told Ava. But what good would come from it? Telling her that she made him miserable. Especially when they had been getting along better than they had in months...maybe even years.

“Harry,” she said softly.

“I know, love. I know...s’jus’—”

“I’m not judging you, I’m sure you have a reason. I don’t have to know it, but...I think it will eat at you,” she reminded him. “I didn’t tell my ex-boyfriend I wanted out of our relationship for over a year, and it made me...a mess,” she explained. “I know it’s hard, I just don’t want you to...be a mess.”

“Little late for that,” he muttered.

She giggled lightly. Harry thought it sounded like angels singing. “I won’t bring it up again,” she shrugged. “Your secret is safe with me, that’s for sure.”

“I imagine Niall wants t’kill me.” The silence was deafening as she ignored the insinuation that she told Niall about it. “Oh?” He smirked in surprise. “Y’don’t gossip over who y’kiss?”

She shook her head. “No... Niall...Niall moved for the year—maybe longer, for work. Overseas. I didn’t want to add more to his plate... and no: I didn’t want him to kill you. Not sure he would know how.”

“Oh, Sunshine. M’sorry,” he frowned. Losing her best friend for a while must have been really hard. He hadn’t spoke to her in three weeks and it felt like death. He had only known her a short while and she had known Niall almost half her life. “When did that happen?”

She smirked. “Uh...the day we stopped talking.” Harry took a moment to process that, and his frown deepened. He knew how sad that day was for him. But he would never forget the tears she shed and the way she looked so upset. Add losing her best friend? The poor thing. Harry’s heart broke all over again. “I do want to tell him. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Don’t blame you.”

It was surreal to talk about it as if it had happened but also didn’t happen at the same time. He thought her brain was much too kind. Letting Harry keep secrets. “How...how is Ava?”

He snorted. “Sunshine, y’don’t have t’do that. M’sure s’hard...I mean I feel—”

“No,” she shook her head tamping down the jealousy that felt like hot air rising from her chest and out of her mouth. “No, this is what friends do. They ask about their friends’ significant others.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah...um...s’good. We’ve been arguing less.”

“That’s great!” But her heart felt like it was severing in half.

“I don’t know what causes the arguments sometimes. Contrary t’some of m’actions...m’a pretty smart guy,” he shrugged. She smiled sweetly at his insult toward himself thinking it was adorable. At least he knew he was an idiot. “S’weird though. I feel like she doesn’t like me the way she used to. But s’like we’re...stuck.”

She nodded. “Well...in my last relationship, I felt like I was stuck for over a year and I just...I couldn’t pull myself out of it. I hit rock bottom, though. Niall had to get me out.”

There was a huge pause. She went back to reading her book. This wasn’t unusual for their conversations. Harry needed time to process, think about what he wanted to say. But he was thinking about this past relationship of hers. In the three or so times she had spoken about it... it didn’t sound like something the embodiment of sunshine should have had to endure. Someone that liked a children’s fairy tale as much as she did, didn’t deserve a crummy relationship. Or a crummy guy like Harry kissing her out of nowhere. “S’horrible of me t’talk ‘bout this t’you,” he mumbled.

She shrugged. “I don’t think so. I did a whole round of clinical counseling on relationships. I’m actually probably the best person to talk about this to,” she smiled behind her book. Her eyes glinted with excitement, like she knew it was torturing Harry a bit.

Good for her. His little voice muttered.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Friends talk about their relationships,” she nodded. “It’s okay,” she promised. “I would tell you if I was uncomfortable.”

Harry wanted to tell her he was uncomfortable not kissing her and not holding her right this very second. He knew it was wrong and he was glad that she couldn’t read his thoughts. He knew it wasn’t fair to Ava either. Ava was making serious efforts to be nicer. It was...bizarre.

Explore that. Harry’s heart suggested.

“Listen,” she sighed. “Do you want to break up with her?”

Harry frowned and looked at his lap. He couldn’t look at her when talked about this. No matter how okay she said it was. He shook his head.

He didn’t. He didn’t want people to say I told you so. He didn’t want to think about all the time that he had wasted. But it wasn’t a waste, right? It was good for a while. Even still had good in it, sometimes. Sparingly. Was that a reason to stay? To prove to people it was okay? That he was okay? For the few good times they had together anymore, it didn’t seem like a good idea. But he couldn’t bring himself to think differently.

“Then you’ll make it work,” she shrugged. “If and when you want to break up, that’s when you’ll know.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t speak again for a while. They enjoyed their books. “Y’said your parents don’t love each other,” he murmured randomly.

She nodded sullenly. “I feel that way. I would imagine they do... but it’s hard to see as an outsider.”

Harry thought he knew exactly what that looked like. “Do you want them t’get divorced?” He asked.

She put her book in her lap and looked at the ceiling in thought. She tilted her head to the left and right contemplating such a loaded question. It seemed obvious. Of course, she did. They were miserable together.

“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t think I do...or...I do but... I think I would be really sad if they did. It’s kind of selfish of me. But you know... they have a complicated relationship. They’ve been together for a lot longer than I’ve been alive... I don’t know everything about them. Who knows,” she shrugged. “I think their love language is fighting. That’s all.”

More silence.

When her washer went off and she was switching over to the dryer, Harry thought about kissing her again. Just to make the hurt in her life go away. Even for a minute. She deserved that. “Do you have a fried cauliflower recipe?” She asked.

He looked up and smirked. “Y’gonna be a big girl and try something new?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah. M’trying something new all the time these days.”

*

Being friends was a dream. Even if their friendship didn’t leave the laundry room. She gave great advice. Even better recipes. Fantastic book recommendations. She even had good recommendations to things in town that Harry hadn’t tried yet. He had no idea there was a mom-and-pop bookstore just two streets over. The late night café had delicious coffee and peppermint hot chocolate.

It was easy to be friends. There was no arguing. Not real arguing. They still argued about her ten-year-old taste buds and his failure to see why Andrew Garfield was better. Their debates while meaningless (she had joked that she was coming up with weird debates for her patients to relieve the seriousness of their situations—so now she had to live with the knowledge that Harry thought cereal was a soup), were fun. It was fun hanging out with her. Not arguing over socks or keys. Or whether they were arguing too much.

She tossed her last pair of socks in her basket with a giggling sigh. They had just finished a fit of laughter after impersonating one of the jokes she heard on a late night talk show. “Okay, well, see you soon. Let me know how you like the bakery.”

He nodded. Biting the inside of his lip. “Hey Sunshine,” he called softly just as she hit the threshold of the room.

“Yeah?” She turned back. She didn’t like the way her stomach flipped over his nicknames but it seemed that her protests wouldn’t stop him. She just had to hope Harry called everyone nicknames. Maybe he called everyone Sunshine and kitten.

But she kind of hoped he didn’t either.

“Thanks for being my friend,” his voice was almost apologetic, like he knew it was hard for her. It was. But she liked to believe she was good at hiding it. But after spending so much time with Harry, it was hard to let him go. He was a really good friend.

“Yeah, of course, Harry,” she smiled softly.

“I miss when y’called me munchkin, kitten,” he frowned looking down at his lap.

She released a long sigh, wishing she could get those days back. “Yeah...” she sighed. “I miss it too.”

*

Harry and Ava fought less, that much was obvious. But granted, if they had one less fight in one day per week, that would have been less than what they had before. However, this was a little more substantial. Ava was snuggling up to Harry again at night and sharing the remote. They watched shows together and laughed. It felt like before...before they fought all the time.

But it was...weird. It wasn’t something Harry could put his finger on. It was just something he felt. Like something wasn’t quite right. In the back of his mind—the conscience that was so adamantly against the sweet girl in the laundry room was silent about the weird feeling Harry had in the pit of his stomach.

It was while Ava slept that he thought about it most. It wasn’t good but the privacy of his own thoughts had to be better than the physical alternative. He thought of that kiss and how perfect it felt. He imagined it a thousand times over. Harry never even thought about how it was nice—it was so intertwined with how wrong it was he didn’t get a chance to think of it as...perfect.

Why do you want to be in this relationship? His heart asked.

Tell. Ava. His conscience begged.

Harry didn’t see the point. They just got back to a good place. He was friends with the sweet girl. Things were going well.

Too well.

*

Again, they were fighting less. They still had arguments that devolved into a thousand other little arguments frequently enough that they should have called it quits anyway—or at least their neighbors should have said something. He guessed that the carpeting and soundproofing must have been much better than he gave it credit for.

But there were some things they would always fight over.

Harry never put the kitchen towel back on the oven handle, Ava was the first one to say something needed to be vacuumed but never did, and that Ava was still keeping Harry away from her friends, coworkers, and even her family.

Right now, Ava was headed out to a night with friends. But she let it slip that one of the other’s significant others would be there. “Y’want me to come along?” He asked. Her hesitation was all the answer that Harry needed. He chuckled dryly. “Great, y’don’t want me there. Fine.”

“It’s not that deep, Harry,” she rolled her eyes, she slid her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her keys off the counter.

Harry stood in front of the door. “Why don’t y’want me there?” He asked shaking his head in exasperation.

“Because I don’t want to fight in public, Harry. It’s embarrassing.”

“We don’t have to fight.”

“I don’t trust us not to. Look we’re fighting now.”

“Because you’re embarrassed by me!”

“I am not! I’m embarrassed by us!”

“Y’don’t want t’be seen with me Ava,” he said listing off the offenses by counting on his fingers. “Ever. Y’don’t take me t’your work parties, y’don’t want t’go out, y’don’t even take me t’your family anymore. Y’don’t want t’go anywhere with me,” he shook his head. “I don’t get it, what happened?”

“Nothing happened!” Her voice was practically hysterical. “I just want to do things by myself!”

“We never do anything together anymore!”

“Yes, we do!”

“No, we stay at home. You don’t want to go out you don’t want anyone t’see us!”

“I don’t trust us not to argue—”

But it devolved rapidly. It turned into the same tired fights about cleaning. The backhanded comments she made when Harry wore a shirt she didn’t like anymore. You’re wearing that? Or the way that they just never agreed on home décor or even where the toothpaste belonged (on the left or the right of the sink).

“I can’t find my phone,” she grumbled amidst the argument.

“For the love of God,” Harry sighed. “How do y’consistently lose these things?”

“I don’t mean to!” She frowned. He pulled his phone out to call it. “It’s on silent,” she murmured.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Harry sighed and tossed his phone on the sofa. “Did y’check your coat pockets?” He asked as he started searching under the furniture. “Or your purse?”

“Of course I checked there!”

“Well last time you didn’t check your coat and that’s where y’keys were—”

“Go ahead, call me stupid Harry. I know that’s what you’re trying to say,” she rolled her eyes, glaring at him. Again, Harry was searching through their whole place while she stood there antagonizing him.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Ava. I think you’re forgetful and y’need t’put these things in a specific place so you don’t lose them.”

“No, you think I’m stupid.”

“Ava. Do not. Put words in my mouth,” his voice was low and slow as he continued his search. “S’not like y’don’t say backhanded things t’me all the time.”

“Like what?” She snapped.

“Like the whole laundry room makes m’clothes smell bad.”

“You can’t possibly be still on about this! For God’s sake Harry this is exactly why I don’t want to go places together! You hold these grudges and bring them up when it’s convenient for you to—”

If Harry was asked for his thought process, he never would be able to explain it. He was flinging the covers back to their bed. Still searching for her phone. She followed him in the room to continue yelling at him. Then he saw her pull her phone from her purse. The one she assured him was not in her bag. It was simply too much.

“I did something bad,” he blurted. Where did that come from? His conscience must have been excited. The yelling stopped. There was a hum in the air like after an old TV turned off and the picture sizzled off screen.

She grinned wickedly. Harry felt his blood ice over. It was like he already knew what she was going to say. “How pathetic. You fucked someone. Good for you Harry. Honestly.”

“What is the matter with you?” He spat back shaking his head. “I—”

“Well, now I don’t have to feel guilty.”

The ear-piercing silence was as if his ear drums exploded. It was painful to process those words.

Harry stared at her, unblinking. Surely, he misheard her. There was no way she was justifying what Harry said to make herself feel better. He heard her wrong. She wouldn’t do that, there had to be a limit. Their relationship, no matter how difficult it was...it had to be the limit, right?

“I didn’t fuck anybody, Ava.” Whether he wanted to sleep with the pretty girl or not, he didn’t. At the end of the day, he didn’t do it. Thinking about it was wrong. Part of him hoped that if it came down to it, he wouldn’t have. He would never know. There was no telling. But right now, that didn’t matter. He hadn’t done something worse. Divine intervention, clarity, the fucking washing machine timer saved him from having sex. “Did you... fuck somebody else?” The question felt like someone had shoved a handful of rocks into his mouth. It was hard to say out loud.

Ava was no longer beautiful. The scowl on her face made her look nasty. Her nose crooked, her lips curled in a snarl. She was a witch. Plain and simple. The silence was telling. Her lack of a response told him everything he needed to know.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he pressed his hands to his eyes. Exasperated, hurt, heartbroken. Everything. Harry felt everything at that moment.

Holy shit. His conscience agreed with his heart.

“Why would you say you did something bad?!” She practically shrieked. “Who gives a shit about a kiss?!”

“Ava, are y’serious!?” He shouted back. His voice felt raw. The tears pricked behind his eyes. This was bad. So, so, so bad. “It ate me alive!”

“It was a kiss!”

“How. How is this my fault, Ava?!” He shouted. She was silent. Harry rarely reached his full yelling potential. Ever. He knew he was loud—maybe even scary in the right light. So he didn’t like to yell that loud if he could help it. It was rude and he didn’t like the person he was when he yelled like that. But right now...he couldn’t help it. “Y’mad at me because I didn’t sleep with someone else? That I only kissed someone? So that y’can justify fucking someone else behind m’back?” More silence. She simply glared at him. But he watched, her eyes welled with tears. Like she had any reason to take the moral high ground. Not that Harry had much higher ground to stand on, but he hadn’t slept with someone else, at the end of it all. “We’re done,” he shook his head.

Her body deflated. “Harry,” she whimpered. Voice breaking on his name like she had been so faithful and loving for their entire life all and all of sudden it was done; broken in seconds. She reached for Harry and he stepped back shaking his head.

“No, Ava. Done. S’been way longer than it should ‘ve been. We don’t like each other anymore. S’obvious t’anyone but us. This is jus’ proof. We’re done.”

She shook her head quickly, her body looked like it was going to crumple under the weight of ending a long relationship. “But...I love you.”

“No... no, you don’t,” he shook his head, his heart pounding. His throat felt like there were knives dragging along the length of his esophagus. “You don’t fuck someone else when you’re in love.”

Is that why you haven’t slept with Ava in months? His heart wondered in the silence of the room save for the sounds of Ava’s pathetic sniffles.

I’m sorry. The little voice in his head was soft-spoken. Shy and apologetic.

“We’re done, Ava. It’s over.”

*

It took more screaming of course. Harry had rubbed his eyes raw and red. It was nearly one in the morning when Ava finally left the apartment. She would get the rest of her stuff another day. She didn’t apologize once.

Harry, alone with his horrible thoughts and his sadness, was feeling terrible and broken. Maybe he deserved this just for hurting that sweet sunshiny girl. If that was the case, he thought maybe Ava should have been pregnant with someone else to get the right amount of heartache he deserved for hurting that sweet girl.

He didn’t want to ask how long she slept with someone else. He would get himself tested just in case the following morning. But he hoped Ava had enough sense to use protection. He was shaking with anger and heartache.

There was only one thing he knew that would cure him. One person that could fix it.

*

The knock jolted her awake on her sofa. She glanced at the clock. Who would come here at one in the morning? She checked her phone for messages and there were none—maybe Niall came back to visit? No, he would have said something. He was a terrible secret keeper. Pausing the movie she was watching, she wrapped her blanket around her as she hurried to the door. Peering through the peephole, she frowned, then opened the door.

Harry looked utterly upset. Worse than she had ever seen him. His skin was pale. Even his pretty brown curls lacked life. He looked so...broken.

“Harry,” she whispered softly. She put a hand to her chest. It seemed...sinful for him to look this sad. It wasn’t fair. Even if she wasn’t supposed to love him, she wanted to comfort him. Despite his mishap, he really was quite lovely. “What’s wron—”

“I know... I know I messed up... kissing y’when I shouldn’t ‘ve. I know that... I... I don’t know if I would’ve stopped us...but...she...” he sighed heavily. His voice was scratchy sounding. Like he had a bad cough. She wondered how long they yelled for, the poor thing. She could feel her face fall. She already knew what Harry was going to say. She could see it in his rubbed-red eyes and sullen expression. “She slept with someone else... and I know m’not much better... but... we didn’t... we didn’t do that.”

Her heart broke for him. He was right. She doesn’t know if they would have stopped had Harry not stopped to ask about her picture frame. But they didn’t go further, at the end of it all. They didn’t. Maybe what they did wasn’t right, but it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

How could she break his heart?

Harry thought she looked so cozy, wrapped in a soft blanket and her hair a little messy from how she was sleeping. Her eyes seemed wider somehow, fresh from her slumber. She was adorable and as sad as Harry was, just seeing her nearly made him smile.

“Oh, munchkin,” she whispered.

There was a little flutter in Harry’s tired, broken heart at the sound of the name “munchkin.”

Finally. His heart and conscience were once more in agreement.

--

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Thoughts on Strohiem? (From Jojo)

It’s… rough. I have OPINIONS ABOUT HIM.

For those unaware, or have forgotten. This particular ask is about the character of Rudol von Stroheim from Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure. A Nazi Major that is introduced in Part 2 of the series. I have always wanted a proper moment to spotlight how much I dislike this character. And not just how I dislike him as a character, but how I dislike his general inclusion in the story as well.

Listen, I LOVE this series. But even I have my limits. It’s because I love it so much that I critique aspects like this in the first place.

Warning, I’m about to word vomit about this because I’ve been DYING to talk about this somewhere.

BIG DISCLAIMER: These are my thoughts and mine alone. I know there’s a lot of… interesting anime fans out there that might disagree. I’m not here to debate on stuff like this, I don’t want to hear your contradictory thoughts on the subject. If I see a single person say I’m “virtue signaling” by saying I don’t like the Jojo Nazi character, I am going to mail you a pipe bomb (in the hit game Minecraft for Windows PCs)

Stroheim’s existence (or at least, how he currently exists in the story) is not handled all that well in my opinion. Like… not at all. I like to poke fun at it, but I genuinely think Araki fumbled the bag so hard with Stroheim and it's more and more unbelievable the more I think about it over time.

No matter how you shake it, Araki fully wrote a historically accurate Nazi character into Battle Tendency and proceeded to give him a redemption arc and make him a member of the supporting cast. Now of course, I know that Japan has a fascination with a lot of German stuff, so within that context I can kind of get why he exists in the way that he does, but it just feels weird and in bad taste.

Contextually, it makes sense. Do I like it? No. No I do not.

To address the elephant in the room, I get it. Araki really loves to write evil villain characters, and then having them be redeemed, or switch over to the hero's side after a certain point. I actually really enjoy this trope especially in Jojo! It’s one of my favorites. Especially how it’s handled in Part 4: Diamond is Unbreakable.

However, writing a redemption storyline for characters like Okuyasu and Rohan is fundamentally different from writing one for Stroheim.

First and most obviously, unlike other characters, Stroheim’s whole character is based on an actual real life totalitarian extremist hate group who committed horrible atrocities across history (and still does to this day).

As if that wasn’t enough, he quite LITERALLY commits horrible atrocities ON SCREEN. Sacrificing an entire room of innocent people to Santana (the first of the Pillar Men) so that the German’s can awaken and study him in their secret lab.

Everything about Stroheim feels like it’s very intentional at the start. He is clearly set as a villain from the beginning, and it works fine. However once he self-immolates and blows himself up to destroy Santana, the story seems to continuously frame him more and more as an ally/hero from that point onward.

After he returns with his cyborg body, the fact that he’s a Nazi suddenly takes a back seat and now he’s continuously just framed as a “patriotic” soldier. Legit, the moment after he shows back up, Joseph internally comments on how he’s “not exactly a bad guy”.

Some people will argue on how it’s a bit more complicated than that, since Joseph also thinks about how he dislikes that he’s a German Soldier. But directly after this, he also states how he’s still happy Stroheim isn’t dead. If anything, from this point onward Joseph acts towards Storheim in a similar way to how he acts towards Caeser. Even if they aren’t best friends, Joseph still has positive feelings towards Stroheim, and I hateeeee that.

In the anime, they even make sure to call him a “German Soldier” and not a Nazi. The avoidance of that word really struck me as them trying to avoid that subject because they knew the way the character was treated was strange.

So anyway, as I was trying to say. Redeeming villain characters is one thing, but redeeming a villain character that is straight up a literal Nazi is something else entirely. Especially when like, not to nitpick, but Stroheim never walks back the more extremist beliefs that he for sure subscribes to.

-And if you’re one of those weirdos who tries to make a point by saying “well, he never outright says what he actually believes in! Maybe he is just fighting for Germany for his own reasons.”

My dude, he’s literally described as a “Patrotic Nazi”. What the fuck do yoU THINK HE BELIEVES IN?

Also as a final addition to this rant, I also don’t quite like how weirdly normalized that Araki makes the existence of “german soldiers” in his story even outside of Stroheim. Nazi’s are weirdly commonplace throughout the plot, and while it contextually makes sense since they kicked off the main conflict, they are almost always weirdly painted as neutral or even straight up good guys (after the Santana fight). Which is just really strange to me.

Like bruh, you mean to tell me that Caeser fucking Zeppeli is casually frieNDS WITH ONE OF THEM? BE FUCKIN FR ARAKI LOL

It also sucks how Stroheim is so increasingly present leading up to the final act. Like MAN, GET THIS MOTHERFUCKER OFF THE SCREEN.

The only good thing about the inclusion of Nazi’s after Stroheim’s initial sacrifice, is that we get to see the Pillar Man murk a shit ton of them on screen. Like, fuck yeah dude. A great way to power scale and show how powerful the Pillar Men are as antagonists, without me feeling bad that they killed a bunch of people to do so.

Anyway, that’s my 2 cents that nobody asked for. I still LOVE Jojo, I think it’s a masterpiece of its genre, but it’s because of my intense love for it that I criticize it’s missteps so heavily. I hope that my wording on this post is done well, I had to re-draft it a second time after accidentally deleting it once, so I have a feeling it’ll come off a bit scrambled.

That being said, thanks for the Ask!

[a-roguish-gambit]

Turn of the century au thoughts: mail call

It's occurred to me that after mutants are outed to the world via a newsreel of the whole sentinel fight, and eventually the X-Men's name is cleared via a combo of teddy Roosevelt and a secondary News Reel of them fighting and taking down juggernaut, the X-Men are probably going to get a lot of mail from random places in the country and maybe even all over the world. There's definitely a lot of hate mail because people are awful and Logan, Jean, and the professor are having to make sure nothing dangerous in any of the packages or mail letters there being sent, and ororo is specifically filtering Evan's mail cause she is gonna protect her nephew from any and all assholes personally and track down anyone who sends him so much as a threat. Still it gets absolutely bonkers because at the time people still did do shitposting and trolling they just did it via the mail system. Not only were chain letters a thing but putting your mailing list out for any reason, and there were a lot of reasons to have a public mailing list, was a gamble because you could have random people sending you extremely random letters. People would send randos their stream of consciousness thoughts or pretend to be someone they aren't via mail. The owner of Sears and robucks would frequently get letters from people asking for advice about who they should marry and stuff like that for example.

The institutes address is probably out there for business reasons, and even if it's not totally public it's only a matter of time before people find it or figure it out because the institute is a public address, so yeah there would be lots of very random mail being sent to the X-Men kids malicious or otherwise.

I can see the international kids getting sent letters from people they do not know claiming to be family members trying to make some money off these kids because they assume that because these kids have fame they also have some kind of wealth which is not true at all a lot of them don't and are there because Xavier himself is wealthy and is willing to spend a lot of money on kids who aren't even his, and to them it's very very obvious and they make fun of it all the time.

Roberto got a letter in Spanish and he's laughing at it with Sam and Amara who read it out to him, where the person is claiming to be his long lost uncle from brazil and it's so obvious this person knows nothing about anything, because his whole family speaks Portuguese not Spanish, because, ya know, they are actually from Brazil. Amara notes that the Spanish is incredibly bad as well, so it was probably some random non latin American who wrote this.

Scott keeps getting letters from people telling him he's wasting his talent and what he should actually use his lazer eyes for x thing like they know how his powers work, or telling him how to fix his eyes, one guy is claiming he can cure Scott by waving magnets over his body. Jean is doubled over laughing when Scott reads that one to her. He's just like "if all it took were magnets to fix me I think all the fights with magneto would have done something by now..."

Jean keeps getting preachers telling her she needs to "renounce her satanic ways and turn to God for power," because apparently these people think her psychic abilities are devil magic. She ignores them but Scott keeps writing angry letters back to these people telling them to leave his girl alone.

Kitty keeps getting letters telling her it's improper to phase through walls, and that a young lady like her should be in an etiquette school not a school teaching her to phase through walls. she is absolutely baffled by this. The girls just come to the conclusion that "people will police women on literally anything". She gets a few offers from suffragette groups though too asking for her help, same with jean.

Ororo has been heavily filtering Evan's mail making sure he doesn't end up reading anything from a weirdo or a racist, but he has gotten interesting mail none the less. He got requests for interviews by several black publications for the perspective on being a mutant of African American descent, which has been fun. Some of the other kids are jealous, as he got a letter from W. E. B. Du Bois at one point, and Booker T Washington's widow and Lady principal of the Tuskegee institute, Margaret Washington, sent one about him potentially visiting the campus some time. But those kids are also getting good mail they are just also seeing some of the ridiculous stuff too.

Rogue seems to get two kinds of mail, one is people calling her a witch, and the other is marriage requests of all things. A lot of them claiming they can "fix her" (ew). A lot of men saw the news reels and apparently had gambit's same thought process about her dark looks. Remy is none too happy about these men, but rogue assures him she hasn't the slightest care for any of these men. They munch on the chocolates and other goodies they send her as rogue writes letters back simply saying "1. I have a lover. 2. My touch kills men. Leave me alone."

Kurt gets some of the wildest stuff: People trying to mail him exorcisms, people accusing him of turning their daughters into Satan worshippers because the girls want to meet him, letters from said daughters wanting to run away with him, people thinking he's the anti christ, with some demanding he leave the country and some asking for his orders to command them against the establishment, actual demon worshipers asking for his hand in marriage, A letter from Aleister Crowley himself, people asking if this is the true form of Germans, people asking him to curse their enemies, kids sending him letters telling him to make sure the krampus does not bother anyone this year, and so on and so on and so on. Poor boy is overwhelmed.

[cool-hibiscus]

HELLO ROTOMBLR!

you can call me Daisuke :D! I've been interning at the underwater terrarium thing at bba for a few months now! keeping it tidy and caring for the pokemon and stuff.

I used to have a social media really similar to this site! so of course I'll have an account here!

also does anyone here know what digimon is I've been trying to tell someone about it for months

mienshao icon by deathlyangel on Pinterest!

blog ran by @obsto, anything liked or followed will come from there. I use they/it/any prns

Daisuke (Mouthwashing) faller! Timeline wise I believe he's been in the universe for about 4-5 months and just instantly sought out a job to give himself a vague sense of normal. In his normal universe he'd be about a month into the Tulpar taking off.

I personally headcanon he's played generations 1-5 before falling here! so he has some knowledge

Anyone is free to interact! he may be very confused on certain things like eebies and sentient pkmn but he'll be respectful if anything.

If you want to plan something out or do anything with him don't be afraid to DM me on here

pelipper mail is on

ic anon hate is completely allowed (it would be really funny)

you're free to also make any comments to the mun. anything else not specified is off.

his team consists of; (he's not much of a battler)

Mienshao , Haruka

Glaceon , Asa

Pikachu , Czar

Herdier , Sergio

Dewpider, BCS

Boundaries

mun and muse are both adults. however please do refrain from major NSFW stuff and sexual things! flirting is okay, suggestive jokes are fine but don't go too crazy

blog specific but also refrain from discussion of what jimmy did in the actual game. don't get me wrong, he is an important character but I don't want people coming into the inbox telling daisuke what he did. specifically and mainly for my own comfort!

also don't mention his death unless stated otherwise

I have the right to not answer any ask sent blehh