#i have obviously been on here a lot less because i can’t focus on it

[a-walking-fandom-reference]

not having my adhd meds for like practically half a year is really fucking me up…

[pedgito]

hi bestie, could i please request either steve or eddie, whoever you're feeling more, smoking weed with their good friend f!reader and learning that she gets a major oral fixation when she's high? love your writing the absolute most!

author's note: look, i couldn't choose so you get both. i also don't write steve often so if this is horrible i'm sorry lol

cw: 18+ (minors dni), established friendship, steve is a little clueless, smoking/getting high, threesomes, oral fixation (sorta, i lost focus pretty quick lol), oral (f & m receiving), mentions of steddie, lots of kissing and teasing each other, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 5k

Steve wasn’t supposed to be here—not that you cared, but it was a surprise when you walked through the door that night and he was settled on Eddie’s living room couch, shoes left by the door and his sock covered feet plopped up on the cushion that separated him and Eddie. You can’t even imagine the conversation you interrupted when they both stare at you wide-eyes, like Eddie forget to mention to Steve that you were coming over—or that possibly, he forgot about you coming over at all.

It wasn’t a weekly thing, but Eddie would pick a few random nights out of the month to smoke with you and watch a couple movies—you’d knew each other since grade school, when Eddie had much less of a mane than he did now and wasn’t nearly as intimidating to people. Not that he could ever seem that way to you, it was impossible.

“Oh, hey—” Eddie breathes, fingers tapping absently against the arm of the couch where his arm was slung over, knee tucked up under his forearm, his foot planted firmly against the cushion. He was dressed down, a plain black shirt and similarly colored sweatpants. Steve still had on his work uniform, pinned name tag stuck to his vest, “Steve’s here.”

You smile slightly, closing the door shut behind you and tossing the small bag on snacks on his cluttered kitchen counter. “I see that.” You nod, making eye contact with the culprit, Steve looked severely out of place, “Steve.”

“I should go, right?” Steve asks wearily, finger pointing toward the front door. “I feel like I’m interrupting something—“

“No, it’s fine.” You assure him, “I just—“ A small laugh bubbles from your chest, “since when does Steve Harrington smoke weed?”

“Hey—I’ve smoked before,” Steve defends, “I mean, my parents would kill me if they found out about it, but I have a few times.”

You glance over at Eddie, his face riddled with amusement.

“He’s a crowd smoker, isn’t he?”

“A what?”

“You only smoke around groups because everyone else is doing it—but to answer that question,” Eddie looks at you with a narrowed gaze, “he’s not.”

“Oh?”

You’re intrigued, you couldn’t help it—hanging out with Steve had never been on your agenda, but it wasn’t the worst possible scenario.

“We’ve smoked a few times before,” Eddie explains, “like, once or twice.”

“So, you’re cheating on me with Harrington?” You feign the shot to your ego, hand pressed against your chest as you leaned against the counter, still a large distance from the two boys.

They looked comfortable, at ease—despite your steady friendship with Eddie, you didn’t realize just how close him and Steve had become. You’ve only tagged alone to Family Video a few times with Eddie, figuring most of it was just polite small talk, but it all makes a lot more sense now.

“I could never,” Eddie smiles, reaching for the blunt tucked securely behind his ear, flipping it through his fingers, “anyways, are we gonna start a game of twenty one questions or—“

“Wayne’s gonna kill you if he finds out you smoked on his couch.” You remind him.

“Obviously—“ Eddie retorts, “that’s why we’re moving this to the bedroom.”

You grimace in subtle disgust, “God, why do you say it like that?”

“It’s a special place,” Eddie replies dramatically, “where all the magic happens.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide but soft, lips down-turned in a slight frown, “Is he always like this?”

“With me?” You ask redundantly, “Yes.”

Not that you minded any of it, Eddie was probably the only person that could get away with talking to you in such a manor that didn’t make you immediately want to vomit.

Eddie always called it the Munson charm, whatever that was.

Steve coughs through the first couple of drags, not allowing the smoke to reach his lungs properly. It was like watching a baby try to stand on it’s own for the first time and Steve was severely out of his element.

“Have you been letting him smoke like this?” You ask Eddie, eyes widened in shock. Eddie shrugs, pressing the joint to his lips. “You’re a terrible friend.”

“I could shotgun him,” Eddie jokes lightheartedly, “but I don’t need him falling in love with me.”

“Like, when you shotgun a beer?” Steve asks curiously, eyes watching your movements carefully, lips closing around the joint and breathing in deep, chest heaving at the action. His look lingers down the valley of your chest before quickly averting back to your eyes, “I’ve done that before.”

You and Eddie both share a similar laugh, glancing over at Steve with amusement, Eddie offers a soft, “Uh—close, but not really.”

“Not close at all.” You shake your head, looking at Eddie with bemusement. “Steve, have you actually been able to get high? I mean, do you ever feel anything?”

“Well, there was that one time—“ Steve doesn’t elaborate, eyes turned up toward the ceiling as he thought, head tilted slightly, “but that wasn’t weed.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, watching Steve chew at his bottom lip, “I’m not even gonna ask,” You respond, glancing over at Eddie, “—wanna demonstrate?”

Eddie smiles widely, “My pleasure, sweetheart.” Eddie rests his hand on the side of your face, joint shoved between his lips as he breathed in the smoke before carefully holding it off to the side, using the leverage he had on your face to squeeze your mouth open, blowing the smoke into your own mouth, laughing airily as his tongue grazed your own.

Steve couldn’t do anything but stare, eyes glazed over in astonishment as he watched the exchange, both of you pulling back with a satiated smile.

“How have we never done that before?” Eddie asks curiously, pulling back with a subtle pout.

“Because, you disgust me.” You smile, lying through your teeth. You couldn’t openly admit how quickly your mind drifted elsewhere when you got this high, how easily a simple touch could drive you crazy.

Eddie was handsy like this, always finding a reason to cuddle up against you or kiss you lazily—and you didn’t try to stop him, but it was very few and far between that you actually allowed it. You were good at burying it away, offering a small peck or closed-mouth kiss in return, but even that was maddening. If it went further, Eddie would call it out immediately—he had no problem teasing you about it.

“Here, do Harrington.” Eddie suggests with a snide smirk, watching as you rolled your eyes annoyance.

You turned to a curious Steve with a small, comforting smile and mirrored Eddie’s actions, pressing the joint to your lips and grabbing at Steve’s face, which he welcomed easily, tilting his neck slightly as your palm curved around the underside of his firm jaw. You could feel the prickle of stubble against your fingertips, something that sent a surge of excitement through your body despite how hard you tried to ignore it.

“Do I just—“ Steve stammers, quickly interrupted by a head shake from you, pressing your lips to his fully, blowing the smoke into his mouth, a small noise escaping his throat in response, tongue grazing against your top lip accidentally as he pulled away, “—fuck, sorry.”

Eddie can see it on your face when you pull away, swallowing hard as you watched Steve lick his chapped lips, blurting out a, “No fuckin’ way.”

“What?” Both you and Steve respond in unison.

“That’s why you don’t want me kissing you?” Eddie asks, a snide smirk pulling at his face.

“Eddie,” You warn, “shut up.”

Steve eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, watching the exchange between you two.

“Let’s do it again.” Eddie urges, knowing exactly the type of reaction he would get if you let him, “One more time.”

“No.” You grumble, ignoring the immediate interest your body has in the matter.

It wasn’t that you didn’t find Eddie attractive, that wasn’t the case at all—but you and Eddie had always been careful about crossing that line. However, Eddie wasn’t the one who wanted that, it was you. He’d pounce on you in a heartbeat if you allowed it, and frankly, your judgement was skewed at the moment.

“Just the one,” He begs, “and I’ll leave it alone.”

It was a dangerous move to make and you blamed your lack of hesitancy on the high that was creeping in, huffing out a long sigh before waving him forward.

“Fine.” You grumble, an eager Eddie already poised to lean forward. Steve doesn’t know where to look, feeling like he might be intruding, but he watches on anyways.

Eddie presses his lips against yours fully, with all the confidence he can muster, tongue dragging along yours slowly, smoke forgotten about as it seeps through the cracks, bellowing out of his nose as he initiates the kiss. You moan brokenly, eyes falling shut as you played into his game, unable to help yourself. It was just too good.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says lovingly, pulling back for a brief moment, “you’ve been keeping secrets.”

“Am I missing something?” Steve asks, breaking through the tense silence that had developed between you and Eddie, your eyes glaring pensively into his own.

Eddie chuckles deeply, passing the joint to Steve, “I never really noticed until just now—“ He points at you sparingly, “It’s only ever when we smoke that she acts that way and I didn’t think anything of it until I watched you two. I assumed you were just playing it up to mess with me—“

“I like being kissed when I’m high,” You offer bluntly, “or just like—my mouth gets really sensitive, I can’t explain it.”

“I think you just did.” Eddie remarks, offering a sickeningly sweet smile your way.

“Is that bad?” Steve asks, still partially confused. “I don’t see how that’s a problem?”

Eddie makes a noise of triumph, “See, Steve gets it.”

“I get it.” Steve agrees, hands motioning toward himself.

“Great—you’re both geniuses. Now, can we move on?”

Eddie was resilient though—and apparently, so was Steve. They both share a look, similar to what you walked in on earlier. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, glancing between the two of them.

“Hey—no, what was that?” You ask, finger wagging back and forth between the two of them briefly. You’re almost embarrassed to ask, afraid you might be overthinking things. “Wait, are you both, like—“

“No!” Steve responds quickly, clearing his throat to better compose himself, “No, uh—we’ve kissed before but that’s it.”

Something tells you that's a lie.

“Steve was asking if I’ve ever had a threesome.” Eddie interrupts, “I told him no—unfortunately, Steve forced himself into a tricky predicament and now he’s completely in over his head, aren’t you pretty boy?”

“Was I supposed to say no?” Steve asks, like the idea seemed ridiculous. “Who says no to that?”

“Lots of people,” You tell him, “—you don’t need to feel obligated because it’s some, like, rite of fuckin’ passage. That’s all bullshit.”

“I mean, I wanted to.” Steve assures you, “I still want to.”

You press further, “But?”

“I might’ve played it up,” Steve admits, “They’ve both never done it before and I told them I had some experience with it.”

“Steve,” You groan, covering your face with your hands in frustration, “oh my god—you know what, it actually makes total sense.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Why you two are friends,” You tell him, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point, “Clueless, full of yourself, and way too horny.”

“So, we’re just drifting over your whole oral fixation thing?” Eddie laughs, “Like that wasn’t just a few minutes ago?”

You clench your jaw, snatching the joint from Steve’s hands angrily and taking a long, deep drag. You weren’t high enough to deal with this, not yet.

“Then what the fuck was that look?” You ask, “Or are we keeping secrets now, Eddie?”

And there’s nothing he hates more than his own words being used against him, a saccharine smile spreading across your face.

“I told Steve I’d be down to help him practice, but that we’d need to find another participant,” Eddie shrugs, “kinda defeats the purpose of a threesome if you can’t find a third.”

“I might’ve brought your name up earlier,” Steve admits shyly, “I was just joking initially—but you walked in right after that.”

It all makes sense then, the weird look and tension that lingered when you stepped foot inside Eddie’s trailer. You could feel it now, but less uncomfortable—and you almost, almost propositioned them yourself. But no, you weren’t nearly as bold as either of them. Plus, with the high kicking in, you couldn’t help yourself.

“I’m not having sex with either of you,” You tell them firmly, and Eddie has the courage to laugh, plucking the joint from your fingers and snuffing it out in the ashtray at his bedside, “not in a million fuckin’ years.”

“Hey, woah—woah,” Eddie chides, “slow your roll, sweetheart.”

Eddie was wounded, but he didn’t show it.

Steve blinks heavily and you can see it on his face, the switch in his demeanor as the weed settles in.

“I just wanted to—I don’t know, test it out?” Steve shrugs, “Some kissing and stuff.”

“Unless you’re afraid to watch us kiss,” Eddie presses, “is that it? Is it too much for you?”

He’s only teasing, but it’s enough to make you retort in annoyance.

“Oh, like when you nearly busted in your pants after I made out with Chrissy Cunningham in front of you at that party last year?” You ask with a snark to your tone, “I can handle myself a lot better than you can, Eddie.”

Steve eyes you wearily, still looking ridiculous in his work uniform, the vest bunching up around his stomach where his shirt had ridden up from him laying out on his side against Eddie’s bed.

“So, is that a yes?” Steve asks hopefully.

“On one condition,” You tell him, “we never speak of this again.”

“Deal.” They both respond in unison, far too eager.

It feels like a fever dream, Steve leaning over you to reach for Eddie, meeting him in the middle of your lap. He’d finally took the vest off after some persuasion from you, striped cotton shirt riding up in his stomach, the few buttons it did have were completely unbuttoned and failing to hide that patch of chest hair hidden underneath. Eddie smiled into the kiss, the dimple in his cheek deepening at the emotion he showed, the familiar sense of giddiness spreading throughout his body.

You’re not sure what to do, where to look, until Eddie’s hand is squeezing at your thigh, over the material of your jeans, a reassuring pressure that reminded him that you were still a part of this—he wanted you to watch, as taboo as it was for you.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Eddie assures you, mouth still very much involved with Steve, both of there eyes shut in pure bliss as their mouths met at an unhurried pace, all tongue and sloppy cadence. “You can stare all you want.”

And you do it, falling back on your palms as Steve’s hands fell in front of himself, just between the space in your legs, your chest rising and falling with every slow breath you took, afraid to move, afraid to interrupt the moment—until Steve separates from Eddie without hesitation and pulls you to him, the heat of his palm spreading out across your cheek as he kissed you gently, less forced that with Eddie.

This was new to him, and you; he didn’t want to come on too strong and you appreciated that, but it wasn’t nearly what you were hoping for. You needed the intensity, all of it—if this was following you all to the grave, it was going to be worth it.

Eddie makes a noise, noting the frustration on your face.

He tuts, running his fingers gingerly through the back of Steve’s hair, “More, Harrington.”

You laugh softly against his lips, “Really, it’s okay—I don’t need you to hold back.”

“You sure?” Steve asks quietly, noses bumping together gently in the process, leaving slow, lingering kisses against your lips, the kind that had you chasing after him for another. “I can get a little, uh—“

“Intense?” You finish for him, “Even better.”

Steve chuckles at that, slipping his hands around your backside until they’re resting just underneath the curve of your ass, adjusting you gently until you’re laid out against the mattress, Eddie following along too as he sprawls out on his side, fingers drifting along the skin of your exposed stomach, shirt pulled up slightly in the process.

Steve follows through on his words, hand pulling at your thigh until it bracketed against his hip, tongue delving into your mouth without hesitation, alighting every nerve-ending possible, an audible moan slipping from your throat and into Steve’s mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily through his movements, pulling at your hands until they’re locked above your head in his grip, freeing one of his hands to tip your chin up, kissing you until you can’t breathe, pulling away briefly to allow yourself the luxury, catching glimpse of Eddie’s relaxed state, palm rubbing at the front of his sweatpants lazily. Steve notices it too, glancing down with a soft laugh.

“You did say ‘and stuff’,” Eddie defends weakly, his idle hand still resting comfortably against the expanse of your stomach, a constant reminder of his presence—not that you could forget it, “don’t worry, I’ll keep it in my pants.”

“Don’t,” You tell him honestly, and Steve pulls back slightly, startled by your words, “—what? I said no sex, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy all the other stuff.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks for reassurance.

You nod, “I mean, I would be doing the same thing to you, but uh—“ You looked up to your joined hands and back down at him, “there seems to be a problem.”

“O-oh,” Steve responds quickly, releases your hands gently. You smile devilishly, hands fisted into the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer, “can I touch you?” Steve asks, neither pleading nor begging, rather just checking in.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” You say admittedly, shifting your legs until Steve can shove his knee in the apex, Eddie’s lips becoming curious as they latch into your neck, “—hey, no marks.”

Eddie makes a small noise of disapproval, the flurry of his hair near your face smelling of cheap weed and old spice, “Touch her, Steve.” Eddie instructs, his wandering hands following the line of your body until they reach the button on your jeans, deft fingers working away to pop it open.

Your hands feel empty, jittery with anticipation and the only thing you can think to do is busy them, rubbing your open palm over the front of Eddie’s sweats, a noise of approval leaving his throat as his lips latch onto your neck. He ruts slowly, savoring the friction as his hand finds its way toward Steve’s thigh and over the front of his own jeans—Eddie knows exactly what Steve’s packing, unbeknownst to you and the smug grin on his face is obvious as his hands search and squeeze gently, a rough, throaty chuckle leaving Steve’s mouth as he kisses you once more. It’s deep and needy, teeth dragging against your bottom lip as his hands move in time, slipping over the front of your underwear, his fingers rubbing over the soft patch of wetness.

Steve eyes connect with yours in a look of knowing, mumbling a soft, “Yeah?” at the obvious state of your arousal.

“I told you it was a problem,” You say through a weak laugh that quickly turns into a gasp as Steve moves the fabric to the side and runs a finger through your folds, gauging your response, “I really can’t help it.”

“And thank god for that,” Eddie remarks, shoving Steve out of the way gently to pull your mouth to his, kissing you hungrily, tongue darting out towards yours in a challenge, begging you to chase him, “right, Harrington?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, looking up at an amused Steve, his fingers working slowly against your cunt, careful touches until your face scrunches up in pleasure, finding just the spot he was looking for, “He talks too much, doesn’t he?” Steve asks with a flippant tone, glancing over at his friend who can’t be bothered to care, mouth dragging against yours as you pull away to speak, a soft moan slipping from your lips.

“Absolutely.” You nod slowly, gripping the front of Eddie’s jeans a little tighter, his cock throbbing underneath your touch.

“I know something that’ll keep my mouth busy,” Eddie hints, earning a skeptical look from you.

But, lines were already being crossed and you couldn’t be bothered to stop him, offering another nod his way.

“Fuck—go ahead,” You breath and Eddie pulls away swiftly, you glance up at Steve, watching as he tried to process what was happening, his own cock straining behind the zipper of his jeans, “come here.”

Steve shifts hesitantly on his knees, your fingers slipping past his waistband, pulling him the rest of the way.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Steve interrupts, your fingers trailing over the bulge in his jeans, “I don’t really—“

“Steve,” You drag out, “I want to.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks.

It’s endearing, how often he tried to check in with you—and maybe it’s his own nervousness doing the talking, but it’s comforting knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling as if you were losing your mind.

“It’s either your mouth, your fingers, or your dick—” You list off, shifting slightly as Eddie pulled at your jeans, interjecting with a snide, “I know what I’d chose.” You smile up at Steve, “You heard him, Harrington.”

And to be fair, you had a sense of Steve’s size, but it’s much more intimidating when he yanks at his jeans, underwear following suit until his cock was standing stiff in front of your face—and suddenly you’re jealous that you’ve shit on Steve’s flirting tactics for so long, because the confidence was absolutely justified. Eddie’s fingers squeeze at your thighs, bring you back to reality and to the realization of your bare cunt positioned in front of Eddie’s face—all weird and awkward tension completely dismissed when he smiles up at you, offering a teasing, “Go easy on her, big boy.”

Steve is just as unfiltered as Eddie in his actions and words, but while Eddie is the type to offer you constant praise and sweet remarks, Steve is nothing but a mess in his own mind, murmuring out a soft, repetitive, “Fuck, fuck,” as you mouth at the tip of his cock, tongue running along the slit to taste at the rivulet of precome resting there, the weight of his cock against your tongue driving you wild, a tinge of excitement running through your body as Eddie’s tongue flattens out over your sensitive clit, moaning from the over-stimulation.

You can’t help but stare up at Steve’s parted lips, plump and wet from how often he licked them, eyes solely focused on you as his hesitant hands came up to cup your face, fingers gliding into the hair at the base of your neck, giving him an unobstructed view as your cheeks hollowed out, mouth sinking down on him in languid strokes, leaning heavily on your elbow as you free hand reached up to cover what your mouth couldn’t reach. It only seems to spur Steve further, pleading eyes boring into his own—you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Steve nods, using the leverage he had to push his cool deeper until your eyes water from the force of it, pulling back with a strained gasp, wiping at your spit covered lips.

“Fuck, I’ve never—“ Steve sighs, “People always say it’s too much,” He’s not sure what he’s trying to say, but he’s staring down with intrigue, the gears turning in his head, “can you take more?”

Eddie’s working you up quickly, tongue flicking over your clit in hurried movements, using his hands to keep your thighs spread to the point of strain, muscles protesting the stretch. Your hand leaves Steve’s cock briefly, burying into the curls at the top of Eddie’s head, hips bucking up into his face selfishly.

Eddie shakes his head slightly, pulling away in punishment.

“Answer him, sweetheart.” He orders, “Don’t let me distract you.”

You give him an incredulous look, filling with a sense of rage at his stubborn, only interrupted when Steve’s fingers tapping at the underside of your chin, urging you to look up at him.

His eyebrows raise in question, earning a jerky nod in return, letting him guide his cock against your lips, his own hand gripped firmly at his shaft like he’s struggling to stave off his own orgasm, a small pout forming in his lips as he watched his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth until it’s just as deep again. You breath through your nose, a slow, deep intake as he pushes even further and holds you there, his head falls back, “Fuck—that’s so,” Steve lingers on the words, interrupted by Eddie’s never-ending comments.

“She likes the praise, Steve.” Eddie supplies, “No reason to hold back now.”

Steve nods absently, groaning out a broken, “Good girl,” and you swallow around him at that, pulling an even needy groan from his chest, “Oh, good fuckin’ girl.”

He pulls back suddenly, allowing you some relief before slipping back in, his hips moving eagerly into your mouth, hands still gripped firmly at the back of your neck as he fucks into your mouth just as you hoped for, taking as much as him as you could—even if it still wasn’t enough.

You can feel the deep pit of pleasure in your belly, thighs struggling against Eddie’s hold as you tip over the edge unexpectedly, moaning against Steve’s cock—and he’s not expecting it either, gasping out a desperate, “Where? Where can I—“

Steve’s never gone so far to come inside someone’s mouth without asking, but you don’t need to hear it, urging him along with your mouth, lips closing around him tightly as you work him over until he’s coming with a rough groan, pulling gently at your hair from the sheer force that his orgasm hits him, hips thrusting slightly as he rides it out, coming down your throat in long, thick spurts. It’s an afterthought to swallow as he pulls his dick out slowly, resting back on his calves and closing his eyes in exhaustion, letting go of your hair to rest his palms against the mattress.

Eddie looks up with a satisfied grin, having witnessed the exchange with a heated gaze, mouth still shining with your wetness and making him look insane as he laughed, “She’s a keeper, right?” Eddie compliments.

Steve nods dumbly, taking a deep breath as he speaks, “I’ve never came in anyone’s mouth before—that was…”

“Really?” You ask with a lilt to your voice, “Never?”

Steve shakes his head, staring at you openly until Eddie’s forcing his way back up and connecting his mouth with yours sloppily, chuckling through the motions as he pulls Steve down clumsily—he can taste Steve on your tongue, the headiness of it and you can taste yourself just as well, an intense exchange as Eddie sighs into your mouth, “Wanna taste her?” He asks to Steve, tilting his head to the side as Steve hovered over, face just a few inches away from both of you. He smile slightly, connecting his lips to Eddie’s with practiced ease, allowing the dirty exchange of Eddie’s tongue licking into his mouth, pulling on the metalhead's hair in response that has Eddie groaning playfully, teeth showing through his grin.

“I might have to give up that other threesome.” Steve jokes, loose hair bouncing against his forehead as he pulls away, both you and Eddie looking up at him curiously.

“You heard the lady—it’s a one and done deal.” Eddie explains with a hint of sadness, playing up the emotion.

But, Eddie knows far too well, eyeing you until you finally give in with an exasperated sigh.

“We tell no one,” You emphasize, “got it?”

Steve nods eagerly.

“Told you,” Eddie teases, tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth as he smiles, glaring up at Steve, “didn’t I?”

“Told him what?”

“Steve’s a little irresistible to the ladies and gents,” Eddie says knowingly, “even the stubbornest ones.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, “We can forget him next time.” You tell Steve, which he shrugs in response too, seemingly agreeing.

“Hey,” Eddie responds with offense, voice cracking slightly, “what—that’s not fair.”

“She’s the boss.” Steve defends, finding the time to pull his pants back up and shift to lay beside you on the bed.

“Oh wait,” The thought dawns on you suddenly, staring down at Eddie’s noticeably less prominent bulge, “—you didn’t—“

“I did,” Eddie laughs uncomfortably, shifting to reveal noticeable wet spot at the front of his sweats, “speaking of, I need to go change.”

“I’ll keep her company.” Steve grins devilishly, letting Eddie flick his vest back in his direction, the material hitting him directly in the chest as Eddie disappears down the hall.

Eddie’s only slightly offended when he returns to Steve pressing you down into the mattress again, teasing you with the slowest kisses possible. But you pull him in without question, letting him fall into a lazy rhythm of trading kisses—and maybe when the high wore of you’d regret all of it, but you can’t be bothered to care.

[lure-of-writing]

Done

Summary: you are done with the way Cassian treats you

word count: 2k

There you were yet again. Alone. Cassian had been doing this a lot recently. Avoiding you that is. It never used to be like this. In the past you couldn’t get him to leave you alone, he was obsessed with you. That was until your work took you to the continent for almost a year. Nine months if you were to be exact. Sure being away from the people you loved wasn’t the best situation to be in but yet you didn’t let that stop you. Often after a long day of playing in the world of politics you would return to your room to write each person of the inner circle a letter. Cassians was always the first to be written and sent out. The rest followed soon after. Since you physically could not be the night court you tried to find ways to remind those you loved that you did in fact love and miss them dearly. Oftentimes sending little items that reminded you of them. Hand made emblem for Rhys to stamp his papers with, beautiful paints that weren’t available in the night court for Feyre. So on and so forth. 

At first everything was fine but the more time you spent on the continent the less you heard from Cassian. The first thought that crossed your mind at the lack of communication from Cass was that Rhys put him to work. Giving him something to focus on other than your lack of presence. With a quick letter to the high lord you quickly found out that was not the case. He in fact was not currently tending to anything other than his recurring requirement to his court. This was strange. 

Something you had learned in your time with Cassian was that sometimes you just simply did not have enough energy to deal with another person, let alone have a conversation with them. So you slowed down the letters you were sending but never failing to remind him that you loved him and couldn’t wait to be home once more and if you were able to visit then you would. Sometimes he would acknowledge the letters you sent, sometimes he wouldn’t. If he sent a letter to you he would oftentimes  disregard what you said about missing him, simply brushing past what you said as if it held no significance. This didn’t happen right away of course, no, it was a slow and minute thing that happened over time. When he first stoped sharing your feeling of longing and want to be with the other person you didn’t mind, figuring that he was enjoying some time alone without you but by month six you were concerned, exhausted, sad and overall hurt and frustrated. This lead you to calling him out on his actions in your next letter. “What is going on? We barley talk, when I offer to come visit you say no, when I ask for you to come here instead you say no. Ive tried just about everything to see you but yet you never do the same for me. I find it quite ironic how every time I think I will have enough time to return home you suddenly are very busy, but yet when I ask Rhysand if that is the case it isn’t. You never have enough time in your days for me but you always have more then enough time to spend with your friends. You will pick literally anything and anyone else over me. Why is that? Do you not love me anymore? Am I not good enough? If you don’t feel the same or want to be in this relationship then please let me know because I can’t do this.” 

Cassian obviously talked you down from the ledge of a breakup reassuring you that he did in fact love you; he was just busy with everything happening within the inner circle especially since he was the peacekeeper between Rhysand and Nesta. Bregurgenly you accepted his answer not without reminding him that what he did was not ok and he needed to change his behavior. Immediately he agreed stating that he saw how it was a problem and needed to do better. 

But better never came. Three months had passed since that argument and almost a month more had passed since you returned home. It was mind blowing how even upon your return back to the night court Cassian never came to see you. Not once. Once again something or someone else always needed him more. With a defeated heart and building anger you accepted each of his excuses in hope that he would one day return the effort you were putting in the relationship. That day never came. Rhysand wanted to see you after your long excursion across the ocean and to a foreign land. He also needed a report from you in full but that was neither here or there. Once at the river house Rhys greeted you with a big smile and open arms, inviting you into a very much needed hug. “How are you my friend?” the question was asked as your high lord led you to his office “I’ve been better but you know how that goes.” Rhysand frowns at your answer “Continue on. What do you mean by that?” sighing you deflate in the chair across from him. “It’s Cassian. I asked him when we could see each other and he said he was busy this weekend and last but I know he was just here. I can smell him. If he was just here, why couldn’t he have stayed and finally acknowledged my existence for the first time since I’ve gotten home?” Rhys simply nodded his head in understanding sensing you had more you needed to get off of your chest. He was right about that. “And then when I asked about seeing him this weekend he said he was busy celebrating the new Valkyries. Like seriously? C’mon. You can’t spare five minutes of your day to say hi, how are you?” 

“I see why you have been better.” with another heavy sigh you nod while closing your eyes to stop the burning sensation of oncoming tears from succeeding in their mission. “Not even that but he doesn’t even talk to me anymore. I will try and try and try but it's like he couldn’t be less interested in what I have to say. If I don’t say anything first we would never talk. Gods, we don’t talk. Actually now that I think of it I can’t remember the last time we had a conversation that lasted for more then five minutes. That is when he can pencil me into his very busy schedule.” You felt Rhysands observing eyes take note of your completely exhausted appearance. And the drained feeling radiating off of you. It wasn’t from the trip. He knew that much. “Y/n my dear you need to talk to him about this.” the first sigh of your impending breakdown was your wobbling lip being pressed inbetween your teeth and the deep breath you take to stop yourself from crying. It was not successful as tears freely made their way down your cheeks. Rhysand saw it then. You were not angry, or frustrated you were simply done being treated this way. You knew what you needed to do but your heart hadn’t let you. “I have talked to him about this. All I do is talk and talk and talk.” A broken laugh makes it way out at how completely stupid you feel. “I’m done talking. He has shown me time and time again just how exactly he feels about me. You prioritize the people you love. And I am no longer a priority.” Finally opening your eyes you see those stunning violet eyes staring back. At first it felt like pity but the longer you looked the more you recognized the true emotion displayed. Empathy. Oftentimes you forgot Rhys could look into people's minds but as you felt the gentle nudge in your head asking for permission to see what had been going on you allowed it. A few moments pass as he shuffled through your memories before he finally retreated to his own mind. “Y/n my dear you don’t deserve that. You know this right.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to verbally respond to him so instead you simply nodded your head while trying to hold back the tsunami of tears fighting to be released. ���I know.” you whispered 

Getting Cassian to yourself was no easy feat. The first few failed attempts resulted in getting Rhysand involved as much as you hated having to do so. But this conversation was much needed and you knew you would never feel content with your decision unless you were able to talk with the male face to face. There in that exact office where you had cried to your closest friend about your relationship being in shambles is where you now stood in front of Cassian who was silently sitting in the chair in front of you. “We should break up.” That finally got his attention. As soon as Rhysand revealed that the pretend meeting was just a ploy to get him in the same room as you, Cassian had shut down completely. Now he was staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth. “I have tired and tired to get you to care about me and I am done trying. I am tired.” Cassian tried to speak but with the raise of your hand he was quick to close his mouth. “Everything else in your life has taken more priority in your life than me, and I am not saying that I am the most important person in your life because I am not. But I have been begging for you to give me even an ounce of your attention and you can’t even do that so I am done. I am done begging you to allow me in your life, hell to even want me in your life in the first place. I will not continue to beg and plead for you to show me you care because it is quite obvious that you don’t and that you haven’t for a very long time. This is not how you treat someone you love. I would know because I would never do the same to you.” Cassian stood abruptly closing the distance between the two of you causing you to take an equal about of steps back from him. Seeing the hurt flash in his eyes brought you a sense of disbelief. Only when you are about to walk away does he finally show interest in you again. How ironic. “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I can do better, I can be better.” His whisper of words are overshadowed by the laugh falling from your lips. “That is what you have been saying for months and yet you never change. Sure you do better for like a week and then everything is back to normal. It's time to face the music, Cassian. This relationship is over. It has been for months. I was the only one putting in effort and you honestly can’t believe that I would continue to stick around when you don’t do the same. Relationships are two-sided and you know that but yet I was all alone.” 

Swiftly you move past him and his outstretched arm. Only stopping once you reach the threshold of the doors. You don’t look back as you speak “I hope you are a better partner for Nesta.” Cassian remains silent as you pull open the door. Rolling your shoulders back you stand tall as you make your way down the hallway lined with Rhysand and Azriel. Finally you had set yourself free from the person who valued you the least. Outside of the River house you took in Velaris one last time. Life on the continent was calling and you couldn’t fathom telling it no. Something in your soul had changed walking out of that room. Something no male could ever take away from you again. Happiness. And for the first time in your life you finally understood what it meant to put yourself first.

[juniorfor2]

The writers fixation on making Rhaena a nanny rather than a diplomat when she goes to the Vale is sooo indicative of how the writers see any action that isn’t traditionally masculine.

Since Joffrey was aged down and so was his dragon’s size, someone obviously needed to go to the Vale to make sure Jeyne Arryn wouldn’t take offense. That was part of why Rhaena was sent - the writers at least remembered to mention it. The problem was that it wasn’t the focus.

Rhaena does get to talk with Jeyne about the agreement made for an army, but it doesn’t last long and ends frigidly. Rather than portray Rhaena as her book self - charming, delightful, and able to make friends easily - they instead reduce her to being lonely and choose to ship her and the kids off to Pentos as if she was either getting kicked out or kicking herself out due to feeling unwelcome at the Vale. She’s morose, and Jeyne seems very passive aggressive towards her, leading us to assume that there wasn’t even a point of Rhaena trying to go to ensure Jeyne would send her army - Jeyne would have chosen whether or not to regardless of Rhaena being there.

By writing this, Rhaena is regulated to someone who cannot have purpose without having a dragon. She cannot do anything at all without the same sort of power that everyone in her family already has.

Now, a lot of people have blamed Rhaenyra for this.

“I need Baela here.”

“Because she has a dragon.”

After all, it Rhaenyra who asked Rhaena to a mother to them, right? So she must have been the one to decide not to give Rhaena a larger role. The problem with this idea though, is that Rhaenyra herself is suffering from the same problem.

Just like Rhaena, Rhaenyra is not written to have a larger focus on politics - such as running the keep, looking over petitions and ensuring that tension isn’t rising up in her army, sending letters or grain or gold to her vassals, or overseeing progress during the councils. Instead, they have her pine, just like Rhaena, over not being able to do anything.

Rhaenyra does have a dragon of course. Due to being a woman however, the writers decided to portray her as someone constantly overlooked and unable to do anything unless she is a man. She has no larger role herself. She hardly even acts as queen most of the time.

They’re both facing the exact same writing problem, they just have slightly different obstacles. Rhaenyra cannot do anything unless she is a man, Rhaena cannot do anything unless she has a dragon.

This could have been easily fixed had the writers simply allowed them to have their book personalities. There was no need to have them do absolutely nothing, especially when the whole point was to give them more to do. But by reducing both of their characters to “girl who is jealous of those privileged with power and can’t do anything unless she gets said powers” the writers have in fact given them even less than in the book. They have no personality, they only wish for more to do while doing nothing to change anything, and when they do finally gain power, it is not by gaining their own kind of it, but by gaining the exact same that others have (sword-wielding, physical strength, dragon riding). It is not unique, it is not hard to access for anyone else in the family, and it doesn’t build their character in any way, yet apparently they are useless without it.

The writers had a very easy path if they had wanted to give Rhaena and Rhaenyra more to do - all they had to do was make it unrelated to dragons and fighting. Making alliances is important. Ensuring a council gets things done and shares all information is important. Keeping everyone loyal in the army is important. Increasing security in your own keep is important - especially when a soldier gets all the way into your bedroom unchecked and nearly kills you. There are a lot of things to do during the war, and most of it isn’t fighting. I don’t understand how the writers don’t get this in a story about women, but their clear bias and envy for traditionally masculine power is ruining this story.

[dogtoling]

Deep Sea Dead Zone - Album Release Interview

Deep Sea Dead Zone is a four-cephalopod band from Inkopolis, founded in 2017. After almost 6 years of radio silence following their debut album’s (Cut the Carp) release in 2017, the time has finally come for a new album release. Same Joke Twice released on November 2nd 2023 - and we’ve got the guys (and gals) in the studio to give their thoughts on the happenings!

(Actual interview under the cut!)

Q: It’s finally the day! Same Joke Twice has finally been released following a pretty long silent period for the band. How are you feeling right now?

Engel (vocals): I’m really excited! It’s been a LONG time coming getting new music out and I know a lot of people have been waiting like, forever. I’m super excited for people to hear the new songs and hear what people think. 

Boy (drums): It’s been six years since our last album and people have been going insane for a while now asking for new stuff. It’s nice to finally be able to have something for those people. 

Q: It’s been a while indeed - and people have been hungry for more. You guys have a lot of fans; does that come with pressure?

Engel: Well obviously. I’ve had people come up to me in the store going “new album when?” since year one. That was to the point that we made a song for the new album called “New Album When?” just to honor how much that happened.

Peppermint (bass): I don’t feel much pressure myself, I usually focus on other stuff in my daily life. But just in general yeah, especially coming outta the dark after several years is a little scary. 

Engel: It’s a LOT scary. People have mostly been bugging me, and it was awful at times because I wanted to make new stuff as much as they wanted to HEAR new stuff if not more but there was just no way. You can’t really feel like you’re not letting people down in a setup like that!

Peppermint: Even if it’s not really in your control. But we’re out of the waves and the new stuff is finally here, so I hope people will give it a try.

Q: Your first album, Cut the Carp, got really big and some of the songs even became popular Turf War hits. Do you have similar ambitions for Same Joke Twice?

Boy: Honestly the first album blowing up was super random and we were all just baffled that it happened in the first place. 

Engel: There’s not really anything special about Same Joke Twice. Not to say it’s not good or we don’t like it or anything but just like Cut the Carp, we made the songs because we wanted to make music, not because we wanted to blow up the Turf scene or whatever.

Boy: Well, in terms of ambition, there just might be a tour coming next year. But you didn’t hear that from me.

Engel: Like, it’s a bit scary knowing that people are scrutinizing the new music, sometimes people like the old stuff better and end up not liking the new songs at all, and I hate the idea that there could be people out there who have waited THIS LONG for new music just to be disappointed by the new stuff. 

Peppermint: I think most people who liked our previous songs are going to like these too, even though they’re a bit different.

Engel: Yeah, I try to focus less on the ‘oh no what if people hate it’ and more on the ‘what if people love it and it’s all they’ve ever wanted and so on’. And for every person who listens to the album and thinks it’s whatever, there’s probably someone else discovering our stuff for the first time and liking it, and that’s more than enough honestly

Q: I think we should address the cetacean in the room… well, the mastigoteuthid in the room. You have a new guitarist!

Boy: We do have a new guitarist. We picked up Lash from the street.

Lash (guitar): Yeah, hi. 

Engel: Yeah, Lash is our new guitarist and they’re awesome! They joined the band this year and have been such a good addition.

Boy: We desperately needed a weirdgirl who does nothing except stare menacingly and they’re really good at that. 

Engel: We desperately needed a GUITARIST and they’re really good at that too. 

Q: There’s been some talk about it over the years, but is it right that you didn’t have a guitarist for a while there?

Engel: Uhh, yup. I want to say that’s the main reason we couldn’t make new music or perform. Our old guitarist, Dodo, walked out not that long after the release of our first album, so we just…

Peppermint: It was a rough time for everyone since we couldn’t really do anything. We didn’t want to pick up a random guitarist to fill in for him just for the sake of having someone there so we can keep making music. The band is more personal than that. 

Boy: It looks really funny from the outside, because Lash is actually Dodo’s sister. So it looks like we kicked Dodo out and replaced him with Lash. 

Lash: Honestly I’ll take it. 

Q: So the new guitarist is the old guitarist’s sister? How did that work out?

Engel: Okay so, unsurprisingly I spend an unhealthy amount of time on InkTok. It was around Fresh Season this year that I saw her post a guitar cover of one of our old songs, Fish Outta Water, and I thought damn, she’s pretty good. So…

Boy: We all technically knew Lash before but were never anything more than acquaintances, so once we actually invited them and got to know each other better in the studio we just clicked.

Engel: I was sold as soon as she showed me her slug. If you look at the back of the CD case, we actually took our slugs to the studio and put their picture back there!

Lash: Its name is Shadow, if anyone cares. 

Peppermint: I was coaching Lash before for Turf Wars, so we knew each other a little better beforehand. It was actually around the release of our first album.

Lash: I was in a team with two of Peppy’s younger siblings, so now that I’m here, I’m getting hit with the hardest eldest sister behaviors known to squidkind. It’s like she thinks I’m 5.

Peppermint: I… yeah. 

Q: On the topic of Turf Wars, do any of you still play?

Engel: Be honest right now, do I look like I play. 

Lash: I play a lot. I’m the solo Squiffer your mom warned you about. 

Peppermint: Most of us used to be in a team together back in the day, before we started the band. We don’t play in a team anymore, but I play with my GF sometimes. I like Splat Roller.

Lash: Have you learned about the vertical flick yet?

Peppermint: I’m trying! Back in my day the rollers weren’t all shiny and fancy like they are now. We rolled and we hit people in the face and we moved on and that was it.

Boy: I was a Gal loyalist back in the day and I’m still a Gal loyalist. The .52 feels great as usual and the new Killer Wail is fun. 

Engel: I used to main the Carbon Roller back when Inkzookas were still hot stuff. I actually bought a Splat Brella recently. Because it’s cute! That’s a really fun idea for a weapon.

Boy: You know, if you came to play with us that would make four people and we could form a full team.

Engel: Way to put me on the spot, dude. I don’t think so. 

Q: Back to the album. How would you describe this album and the songs? Does it have its own identity?

Engel: How would I describe it… well, it’s the NEW Deep Sea Dead Zone. It’s familiar, but with a distinct sound that separates it from what you may be used to. So really it’s a bit eerie.

Peppermint: Dude, that’s cryptic. 

Engel: It’s like visiting your childhood town just to see that the post office is gone, things have changed and there’s a Squidonald’s now. It’s like seeing an old friend after a long time and not recognizing parts of them. A familiar unfamiliarity, if you will. Or the other way around.

Peppermint: …sure!

Boy: The music is a little different but we kept more or less the same vibe… It’s a little less edgy than Cut the Carp was. But it’s Engel making the lyrics so obviously it’s still edgy, I’m not saying it’s not. 

Engel: Yeah, I made the lyrics for most of the songs again so you know it’s not going to be all nice and cute and pink and sugar sweet. 

Boy: That really made it sound more like it should be. 

Engel: With Cut the Carp I was using the lyrics mostly as an outlet, there was a big emphasis on stuff like feeling out of place, not belonging and whatnot. I actually go to therapy now so the songs are a little lighter on that kind of stuff…

Boy: I want to emphasize that he’s saying that, but the album is still insanely edgy.

Engel: YEAH WELL some things can’t be helped. My therapist said to me something along the lines of music can be a good way to sort your thoughts, but it can also be really harmful to like, repeat your bad thoughts infinitely like that and turn them into an identity thing. 

Peppermint: I get a little uncomfortable playing some of the really rough songs, so it was actually kind of a relief seeing some of the lyrics he’d written down and seeing that all of them weren’t outright depressing. 

Engel: Yeah, I tried to steer away from, how do you say, depression fuel. There’s still a lot in there but we tried to approach some of this stuff with a more humorous or satire tone this time. It gives the ability to detach yourself from it a little bit.

Boy: He kinda makes lyrics as an outlet to reflect his own thoughts, so he can’t make them too exciting or he will lose the vibe and not be able to sing or whatever.

Engel: Something like that. I like to put my hearts into it.

Q: The new album has some interestingly named songs… one of them being You Can’t Call The Song That. Is that an example of your more humorous tone going in?

Engel: Haha, that one is great. Well, kind of. The song doesn’t really have anything to do with the name-

Peppermint: Oh boy here we go.

Boy: We wanted to name the song something else, but Peppy over here didn’t let us, so that’s where the name came from. 

Peppermint: I’m just trying to get us from being banned from most radio channels or potentially sued. 

Engel: Even Peppy doesn’t know this, but actually the album’s name… we named the album Same Joke Twice because we had other ideas for the name that we weren’t allowed to use. And, well-

Peppermint: No. Wait, REALLY?

Engel: We didn’t want to name it “You Can’t Call The Album That” because we already used that joke, so we went for a trick shot.

Peppermint: You CANNOT be serious right now. 

Boy: Honestly we had a lot of disagreements about what the name should be and it was pretty last-minute. This one clicked and it was funny, so we just kept it. 

Engel: Some people thought the joke is that we stuck around to make more music and honestly, sure. Free interpretation. 

Q: Clearly a lot of secrets went into the name of the album. So, what about the cover? 

Engel: Ok! Unlike the last album’s cover, we actually got a photo studio to get a nice, fancy thing going on. We didn’t really know at first what we wanted to do with the cover but then figured, we have a new face in the band, we should do a group picture to make that clear. 

Boy: For the first album’s cover we just went out and posed on some shitty industrial porch, this time we went for the more abstract classic void look and focused on highlighting us.

Engel: I’ve already got people who were surprised I’m not actually 2,5 meters tall. Guys, I’m sorry… you got tricked by the good old photoshop. 

Peppermint: I’m just happy to not have to be “the tall one” for once.

Q: It’s pretty common for the frontman in a band to be at the, well, front. You guys didn’t do that there.

Engel: Yeah they banished me to the back. We were kinda drawing blanks on the composition for a while until we figured it would look fresh to have me looming in the back. And! With everyone else in front I think everyone’s getting the attention they deserve. A lot of times in bands the members other than the singer are kinda invisible, I feel like we hit a good balance here.

Boy: Well, there’s other reasons but sure, that’s a good explanation. 

Engel: That’s right. It is. I was in the front last time, but everyone else is a fantastic model too. Peeps already know what I look like. 

Q: That’s right, Engel, don’t you model on Inkstagram?

Engel: Uhh, yeah, I do. I used to do it more in the past but I’ve been sloooowly getting back out there… it’s mostly pics of my slug lately. 

Lash: I do a lot of fashion photoshoots there, though I’ve mostly been on InkTok lately.

Engel: Oh yeah, I’ve been helping Lash with her stuff here and there. We both really like fashion, so I’ve been giving them some pointers… 

Lash: Any time you see me wearing some cute loser swag like ribbons and lace that makes you think ‘wow, just like Engel DSDZ’, well, rest assured it was him. 

Boy: One way to put it. 

Engel: What’s loser about ribbons and lace???? Every day I get disrespected and attacked in my own band. 

Q: Engel, you are pretty well known for incorporating ribbons and lace into your outfits. Most inkfish guys tend to shy away from that style of clothing. When did you start dressing like you do and why?

Engel: Oh, I get that a lot… Honestly, I just think they’re really cute and really cool. I don’t really care about “girl and boy clothes”. It does lead into a lot of people thinking I’m a girl, but I don’t really mind. I’m more interested in dressing in a way that makes me feel good about myself than dressing how people expect me to.

Boy: Believe it or not, he used to dress in super normal stuff like t-shirts and Turf shorts back in the day. He thought Grape Tee was the epitome of freshness.

Peppermint: Boy, you wouldn't disrespect a grape, would you?

Engel: That was when I was super new to the surface. It took me a few years of, like, just being to figure out that I was allowed to do stuff with my appearance? So once I got through that first realization I kinda went all in. And since I started wearing frills, I never stopped wearing frills so far. 

Lash: Not my question, but in general, experimenting with what you can do with fashion is really fun. 

Engel: It is! It’s a big hobby for me. I got into making bracelets and little decorations when I was at the top of wanting to get new outfits and stuff going on, my house is full of beads. People tell me it’s bordering on a problem but those people are without joy. 

Peppermint: Those people don’t want to keep finding rhinestones and beads on the floor and under the couch six months after those last came out.

Q: Speaking of jewelry, that candy necklace. Are those beads, or is it real?

Engel: Nope, these are super real. I have a bunch of these at home. Candy is kinda half my brand, so I just started implementing it in my outfits at some point. I really like sour candy, actually, some people don’t. 

Peppermint: When we were roomies, I’d be on my way home from the city and he’d send me texts going “hey can you get me bracelets” like every day. I just started going to the candy store and getting him like, full bags. He goes THROUGH them. 

Engel: I actually fiddle with it if I get nervous and the sweetness helps a lot. So if you’ve got issues with stuff like crowds or noise or like, elevators, totally get one of these to see if that helps as a distraction. 

Q: We got a bit sidetracked, so back to the album. Or, albums, plural. This album cover actually has a lot of similarities to the first one; was this an intentional design aspect?

Engel: Well, yeah, in the end. We figured we might as well since we settled on doing a group photo again. Especially the baseball bat is kind of a dead giveaway… I thought it would be a fun throwback since I still had that lying around.

Boy: This guy hoards stuff like he’s Octarian. And the fact that the stuff usually ends up being useful is nuts. 

Engel: I’ve got emotional attachment to this thing, man. 

Peppermint: The pink splatters were Engel’s idea in the first album, but it was actually Boy’s idea bringing them back for this one. We were kinda stuck thinking about what to add to make it a bit more visually interesting.

Engel: Oh yeah, that ended up coming pretty naturally and it was like, duh OBVIOUSLY we’re gonna do that. Same joke twice and all that! Ink is always a really good addition in dark settings because of the glow and I think it turned out really good there.

Boy: I actually suggested it to back up the claims online that Engel’s ink is sweet. They’re right. 

Engel: This is probably the fastest anyone’s ever made a conversation go super weird.

Q: Let’s quickly talk about some of the songs on the new album. Any favorites?

Engel: Ooh. We put a lot of work this time in making the songs seriously stand out from each other, and also from the first album’s stuff, so some of them are pretty divisive…

Boy: A lot of them have some pretty rough and scrappy guitar going on thanks to Lash. There’s some guitar solos that really stand out to me. Try to Drown Me, Suckers has to be one of my favorites because it just goes hard. There’s some real spirit in that one. 

Engel: Haha, I really like that one. But - yeah I’m aware this is entirely my own fault - it is ROUGH to sing. It might have to be skipped from some live shows because uhhh… gonna be real I don’t think I can do that and like ten other songs. 

Lash: I like it. But my favorite is probably Famous Fuckup. I love how quick you guys gave up on being radio safe.

Peppermint: I TRIED. 

Engel: It’s a pretty personal song… well, as opposed to every other song that are ALSO pretty personal songs. Yadda yadda. I just wanted to keep it, like, uncensored. 

Lash: I think it’s funny that Peppy managed to keep “Don’t Like The Song? Kill Yourself” from being used, but not censor the word “fuck”. 

Peppermint: I had to prioritize the one that could get us sued…

Engel: Anyway, I really like Might As Well Be Caught, actually. It’s very tongue-in-cheek kind of stuff. The lyrics are kinda out there and it’s unusual for us, but it’s- well, it’s real! It’s a love letter to the paparazzi and a culmination of my endless annoyance with being on the freaking news every time I step out of my apartment to do ANYTHING. 

Lash: I like any song that’s obviously antagonistic.

Peppermint: I like all the songs a pretty good amount… honestly I’m usually more focused on getting my parts right than like, the song happening. 

Engel: She’s too humble to say she’s biased and likes her own song the best. It’s okay, Peppy. The song slaps. 

Peppermint: THAT’S NOT… Well YEAH, there is one song that I had mostly free reign over. It was pretty fun… 

Engel: No More Misery. She’s the one singing it, too - she made one of the songs for the first album, but even on that album I was the one who ended up singing it. So this is kind of a big deal.

Peppermint: I don’t think we need to bring up Hooked To Hurt in this… ah, shit.

Boy: I vibe with No More Misery being put right before Famous Fuckup. Good job, guys, that positive energy lasted for four minutes and now we’re back to self-loathing.

Q: The first album had ten songs, plus one that was a later release. This one has TWELVE songs right from the get-go!

Engel: It sure does. Honestly, if the guys let me keep going there could’ve been twenty, still counting. I had SOOOO many ideas, all those years we weren’t able to do shit, I was still writing. 

Boy: We started the actual album production somewhere in late Fresh Season, and most of the songs were recorded mid Sizzle Season. So like we were hauling ass grilling in the studio heat and trying to narrow down Engel’s ideas into something that actually works as a song.

Lash: I think all of them work as songs if you’re not a coward. 

Engel: Some of my raw lyrics are basically journal entries or venting on paper so once we started refining them, it would sometimes take, like, a LONG time to get something coherent. For example I’m pretty sure we gave up on False Eyes like five times until-

Peppermint: Oh of course, False Eyes. This guy started spam texting the group chat at 3:30AM on a weekday going “I KNOW HOW TO DO THE CHORUS!!!!!1”

Engel: If my therapist is reading this……. I know we talked about the ‘bedtime issue’. I would like to formally apologize, I promise I’m trying, but. You see…. 

Boy: He is enthralled by the magic of creation. 

Engel: Pretty much. Uh, long story short, summarize, we just collectively had a lot of ideas,

Peppermint: Mostly you, dude.

Engel: I just had a lot of ideas. I don’t want to promise too much here but, well, the next album is probably NOT going to take six years from now. 

Lash: I can leave if you guys need a break. 

Peppermint: Please don’t.

Q: Before we get into reader questions… I’d like to hear your final thoughts on the album release. And additionally, any gossip about live shows?

Engel: Ahhh… I’d like for everyone to give the album even a quick listen-through. I think old fans are gonna like what we have here, and for new fans or people who haven’t listened yet… if you like Inkin Park, you’ll like us at least a little. It’s super duper exciting to finally be able to put out new music and I’ve been all spiky for a week just thinking about finally getting to show it to people!

Boy: Listen on SeaTube. Use adblock. We don’t really care.  We care about people getting to hear the songs first and foremost, we don’t get paid shit anyway.

Lash: I would like some money. 

Engel: This has been such a long-overdue passion project I might just go home and cry to be real with you guys. As for the live shows, uh, it’s still kinda on the table…? Some of us have like, jobs, so we don’t have all the time and energy in the world to do stuff like that.

Peppermint: Chill Season’s also coming up, and we mostly just do outdoor shows, so it doesn’t super add up. For the time being I think we can promise there will be some gig action next year, though… 

Boy: We’re going to sit for a while and see if people vibe with the music, see who reaches out. I’m hitting the festivals next summer as I always do, I’m just saying, it would be nice to do so as a performer.

Engel: Aside from just music-related stuff, expect to see more stuff like this in the near future from us! And follow my InkTok if you like slugs. Mine’s named Meat, it’s a fairy butterfly slug!

Peppermint: For those wondering, its name is Meat because he couldn’t stop being bothered by the cerata being flesh while naming it. 

Engel: What she said!

Q: That concludes our part of the interview. However, we have some audience questions left, if you’re inclined to answer?

Engel: Well obviously they’re the scariest part, but I can’t help but be nosy.

Boy: I’m just going assume they’ll be uncensored and go in with that expectation. 

Q: Audience question incoming, number one… Engel, is your Skitter account and your activities on there representative of what goes behind your lyrics?

Engel: Ummm… well. Yeah. Yes and no. 

Boy: Can I answer? Yes it is. 

Engel: The stuff I do on Skitter kinda ranges between sharing stuff I think is funny, or trying to be funny, or having a mental breakdown live on the net. So, idk. In terms of the latter, first of all I’m SORRY, I’m working on it. But also that’s… yeah.

Lash: Some of the posts you guys see on there are just the front for the most unhinged shit he’s ever written that would score him in the psych ward if the right person saw it.

Peppermint: Maybe not something you want to say in an interview…

Engel: Basically yeah. I mean, I’m a funny guy on Skitter but trust me when you see the kind of pathetic “i forgot to eat dinner for 4 days” funny relatable posts on here, it’s - like it happens. To the best of us. Mostly me though.

Peppermint: No actually, he’s very honest there. I’ve told him many times to maybe dial it back online, not everyone needs to know that- 

Engel: I would like to add that people following me there should be careful and avoid being influenced by the stuff I sometimes post… Most of it is meant to be satire!! Please don’t actually jump off of Hammerhead Bridge. 

Boy: It’s been like two years since he posted that and he’s still having to clarify that it was a joke. 

Q: Moving onto the next question; Why couldn’t you get the old guitarist back? His playing was so much better.

Boy: Huh, that’s brutal.

Lash: Whoever sent that, meet me at the Reef tonight at 10pm sharp. Pick your best weapon.

Engel: Okay, well, that’s kind of mean… I don’t think it was better personally, they just have different types of playing. It comes down to personal preference I guess, I would say hey, maybe stop expecting the same kind of art from two different squids! You can appreciate something different in both playstyles and maybe you’ll find out the new one isn’t bad, just different, no?

Peppermint: We would not take Dodo back into the band even if he came in crawling on all fours and begged to be let back in. If he’s smart, he’ll stay in whatever hole he's dug himself.

Engel: Okay and uhhhh yeah we can’t get the old guitarist back. Not going to get into it, but - yeah he’s gone.

Boy: Hey Lash, are you actually going to go?

Q: Next question! It’s a bit unclear whether this is more broad, or if it’s focused… What the Fuck do these lyrics mean.

Engel: I feel like this has been answered a few times in the interview already, but I’m a huge fan of the raw emotion here, so.

Boy: Engel makes most of the lyrics for basically every song ever, the rest of us pitch in to turn it into an actual song. But he’s the mastermind for sure. Any complaints should be addressed to him.

Engel: I started writing lyrics back when I first got on the surface and got really into writing poems and just generally writing, well, stuff. It started as a kind of way to just get my thoughts out there and out of my head where they were mostly Bad. It’s always helped me to write that into songs, so especially in older songs, the lyrics are mostly just me processing my feelings, fears, things going on in my life. For the most part they’re very personal to me. 

Boy: We talked about it a little before but a lot of the lyrics in this album specifically are a bit different, in terms of how much “post-production” went into them, and then there’s some like Might As Well Be Caught that are just kind of unusual. 

Engel: When you hear the “this is the corner where I go to cry”, imagine I’m actually showing you my house. That being said though the new songs aren’t all random scribble, the guys just took my usual whining and we worked on making it less whiny and more like, subtext? If that makes sense.

Peppermint: There’s also songs on this album that were collabs, like Existence is a Cruel Mistress. Or in the case of No More Misery, that one was mostly written by me. So… I mean I guess for a broad answer, we just put our hearts into it and see what happens. 

Engel: Peppy’s always the one writing the sappy songs, we love her and her will to live. 

Peppermint: It’s not sappy! I was just being honest!

Boy: Never change, cap’n.

Q: A question about the new album. Same Joke Twice! What inspired you to make it?

Engel: The album or the album’s name? We already talked about the name before. 

Boy: The album itself was just long overdue. We couldn’t work as a band for like five years, so as soon as we got a band back together we kinda went off and just got it done.

Engel: I’ve got enough ink for like two more back-to-back albums to be honest but I gotta give the others a little while to breathe.

Boy: But yeah, as for the album’s name, no the joke isn’t that we made another album. It’s just an inside joke, because Peppy hates fun.

Peppermint: I literally hate you guys. 

Lash: I still think it’s a skill issue. 

Q: There’s a question about the making of the pink “blood” on the cover of the album. Does it symbolize something?

Engel: I mean, blood I guess. It’s also just a throwback to the first album’s cover where it also symbolized something like blood, violence, chaos et cetera.

Lash: He is so edgy. 

Engel: Using actual fake blood was an idea we had, but blood color is kinda subjective based on your species, so it might not always register. We just went for a color that stands out and isn’t a common blood color so it… I guess, equally registers as blood for no one, and everyone at the same time. I don’t know if I’m making any sense right now!

Boy: He’s saying it’s there for the edge factor, nothing more and nothing less really.

Q: Presumably about the album cover. Engel, were you always that big?

Engel: Hahaha noooooo. Have you heard of deep-sea gigantism?

Peppermint: It’s photoshop. 

Boy: Did they specify it was about the album cover?

Engel: They should be asking if Peppy was always that small. The answer is no, they made Boy and Lash stand on chairs to make her look shorter.

Peppermint: Why’d you drag me into it????!

Lash: They got Engel’s photo separately and upscaled him into the backdrop. There’s no magic growth spurt or deep-sea gigantism going on here. 

Engel: Yeah uh no. Also this is a common misconception, a lot of deep-sea folk are actually not giant. There’s similarly sized shallow-water species too, but the Deepsea tends to get a lot of talk about… okay well, besides the point. 

Q: That concludes our extra questions and our interview. Thanks to Deep Sea Dead Zone for showing up - the new album, Same Joke Twice, is out now. Any parting words with our readers?

Engel: Thanks for having us and thanks for listening! New album now. Never ask me for anything ever again.

Boy: He’s kidding. But I’d just like to say a humble thank you for the people listening to our stuff - and an extra thank you to people already requesting our songs on the radio. We love what we do, so it’s a bonus if you guys love it too.

Engel: Yeah just in case I wasn’t clear, that was a joke. The new album wasn’t a joke tho. Thanks for sticking around through the years, I love all you guys to death. 

Peppermint: Lash made this album possible, I just wanna put that out there. I better see hype for her and hype ONLY in the future and in the comments!

Lash: Don’t be shy with the hate comments, either. Most of my previous haters can’t make it to the 1v1s anymore so I could use some more.

Engel: You can listen to the album RIGHT NOW on SeaTube and a bunch of other places, I’m super excited to hear what people think about it, pleasepleaseplease leave your thoughts in the comments. Stay sweet everyone!!

[reborrowing]

a strange appearance, part five

this took what, a half a year? but it's here, with some worldbuilding hooks

Stranger Swap Masterpost | ao3 First | Prev | Next

Some regret and some research Word count: ~2800 cws: fear, reference to past abuse, death mention (distant, not specifically anyone the characters know), discussion of human-ish experimentation

Val

Val felt a little better about being in the kitchen now that she knew what they were and not just what they weren’t. They didn’t have to try to look competent and could defend themself by explaining they didn’t know how to cook because they very politely avoided starting fires in her walls. She laughed. And that was good, they figured, because it meant she was feeling better.

She was obviously less comfortable than she had been with Val touching her. When they had carried her into the kitchen, she had sat down and squeezed an arm around their finger to anchor herself. She refused to look down and rambled about her tea collection until they reached the counter, at which point she awkwardly slid off as soon as she could reach, no longer worried about the fresh mess Val had made of the counter a few minutes ago. 

They didn’t comment on it, didn’t want to make her think about how precarious her situation was, not any more than she had to. She was doing better than they had, the first dozen or so times they’d been held. Granted, Val had been a child being snatched up by a stranger, but still—they’d also spent their whole life knowing it was a possibility. If the rest of Phoebe’s life looked anything like her apartment, she had never had to even imagine something that large coming at her. They wished they could give her the space to process things without abandoning her. 

Her tea collection was…probably impressive? There was a good spread, more kinds than Val cared to care about. They’d walked by the display a thousand times and the smell had put them off from investigating. She offered them a few choices and they politely echoed the last thing that she said. None of them sounded more or less appealing than the last. Pretty, but not anything they’d choose to put in their mouth unless they were desperate.

And they were, of course, desperate to please.

Thankfully, it was well within their skill set to throw leaves in a vat—cup—of hot water and wait a few minutes. The leaves stained the water and that was it, much easier than the involved coffee-making process they’d watched the last tenants. They grabbed the carton cap from earlier and scooped out a few drops of tea for Phoebe. She eyed the plastic suspiciously when they held it out.

“You said you’ve been here, taking stuff, right? Is that yours? Did you leave it out earlier?” she asked.

“No? I just…you threw it out. Do you have a better idea for a cup?”

“What would you use? You’ve got my clothes, why not let me use your things?”

“I can’t…it’s not… I can’t get to it like this.”

“But I could, couldn’t I?”

“Not unless you want to do a lot of climbing,” they said. 

They crossed their fingers that that would be enough to discourage her. It was more than enough that she got to know that she had someone living in secret in her shadows, they didn’t want to wake up to a sledgehammer through the drywall when things went back to normal. Or not wake up, as the odds may be. They made themselves hold eye contact just to keep from letting their gaze wander to the space above the cupboards and give away where they lived. She shook her head and got up to retrieve the cap of tea.

They moved their hand to make it easier for her to reach, making her flinch. They felt bad at the relief it made them feel. She understood she was vulnerable. She wasn’t going to hurt herself and maybe, maybe, she would consider not hurting them when she got the chance. 

Phoebe

The tea was mostly a good idea. If nothing else, struggling through her directions had given Val something else to focus on. They did a decent enough job of visually masking their worries, but every time they picked her up to move her, she could feel their blood racing through their skin.

By the time the tea had brewed and Val was carrying her back into the living room, their heart rate was at the slowest yet, at least until she asked for her phone and their tendons tensed beneath her. She flinched again and craned her neck to see if that had pissed them off, or just made them nervous. She was pretty sure it was the latter, but it was a terrible angle to judge someone’s expression from. They nodded, at least.

She clutched her tea as Val lowered her to the coffee table, soaking in the soothing aroma wafting out of the mug in their other hand. The smell of her own was weak—just a few drops that she wasn’t quite sure she actually wanted to drink. It looked…gelatinous under the thin ribbon of steam and hot, herbal Jell-o was not particularly appetizing.

But the smell alone wasn’t enough to calm her own nerves and the quiet only made her mind race. She needed answers. Normally, she wouldn’t bother to care that Val didn’t want to talk, but they’d done such a good job demonstrating why someone so small should be afraid of someone human-sized that she bit her tongue for the time being. She wasn’t too eager to set off another freak-out while they were holding a cup of scalding tea deep enough for her to drown in.

It wasn’t like either of them had any ideas about how to go back to normal to speak of anyway. It seemed the plan was to sit in the apartment and wait. It was going to make her insane.

Val seemed at peace with it, but then, the change wasn’t so terrible for them, was it? 

No matter what they might say, they didn’t lose nearly as much as she did in this bizarre trade, just their secrecy, while she was a prisoner in her own home. Even as they let her down onto the coffee table, it only stranded her. She was completely reliant on this near-stranger who seemed almost as likely to kill her as continue to help her.

“And you’re fine on your own now? Or do you need to—”

“Just go get it. Please,” she said.

She felt all too vulnerable as they rose away to where she could no longer make eye contact. The whole landscape changed once they left, into something alien and empty. Her furniture made up impassible monuments around her, but all but the coffee table was far out of reach. She took a seat on a textbook she’d left out, now a perfect thickness to serve as a bench.

She itched at the idea of sitting here for the next who knows how long and playing card games instead of trying to fix this. She was terrified, and she didn’t know what to do with that. She needed to channel it into doing something.

The light cut out for a second as Val came back into the room and passed by a window. God, she knew they were coming, she knew what they looked like, but it still came as a shock to watch a building-sized person step into view. They knelt down and pushed her phone towards her.

“Please don’t call anyone, just music,” they said.

“I got it. Really. Why would I try to piss you off at this point?”

“I guess you wouldn’t.”

They helped Phoebe prop it up on its side when she realized it was too large for her to move on her own. She suppressed a shudder. It belonged in her pocket, easily forgotten. Now she was using it like it was some screen out of an old sci-fi flick. Here was the whimsy she had insisted on earlier this morning, but now she was too overwhelmed to have fun with it. She just wanted this to end. 

She forced herself to enjoy it anyway, and it did help, certainly more than the tea. Fumbling with the cards was horribly awkward, but it was fun. Impressively, the two were equally terrible at trying to shuffle the rug-sized cards. She slid around the table to set up a game and got maybe a minute and a half into an explanation of the rules before Val’s head slipped off their palm and onto the arm of the couch.

She snorted. She knew rules were boring to listen to, but she had hardly expected her explanation to put them to sleep, even with the tea and chill music. And then her eyes slid over to the phone, still propped up against the glass, right within reach. 

“Val?” she called, just to be sure they were really asleep.

Their ear twitched but they didn’t otherwise stir. Phoebe pushed the rest of the deck to the side and crossed back over to the theater screen that was her phone. The lockscreen clicked. She jumped at the sound, glancing over her shoulder again. Val didn’t move.

She felt a little thrill run through her chest, like a kid getting away with something. Phoebe focussed on that and let the fear of getting caught dissipate. She swiped through a half dozen junk notifications to get to the text from Chelsea. It was, as expected, just a line asking her to check in when she “wakes up for real.”

Her hands hovered over the keyboard for a long while. She couldn’t find the words she wanted. She couldn’t find any words that came close to what she wanted to say. She started to type something, then bashed the delete key to get rid of the nonsense. She frowned as she tried and failed to come up with a way to describe what was going on. The best descriptions she could come up with were so absurd that they weren’t even worth writing out.

It is absurd, she conceded. Maybe not something to send over text. She’d probably need to show them, but that would be so much more likely to wake Val. She could tell them to come over, they had her spare key but…Val was scary. To her, obviously, but they had claws and fangs and she suspected they came with a good deal more fighting instincts than Chelsea possessed. In the end, she shot off a short text that lol of course im fine, sorry! She’d give them a better explanation later.

For now, she’d use the time she had while Val was sleeping to find her answers online.

--

Val jerked back to fully alert as Phoebe muttered something to herself, immediately annoyed that they’d managed to doze off at all. She could’ve mentioned the tea was drugged, not caffeinated like the tea they’d had before. They leaned forward towards where she was perched on the coffee table, pushing aside the pillow that they’d been draped over. They had no idea how long they might have been asleep and before they could try to figure it out, they registered that she was perched in front of her phone.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Val cringed as Phoebe jumped, then softened their voice, “I told you—”

“I know, I know, don’t tell anyone. And I didn’t! I just did some research, and look at this,” Phoebe said. She ran a nervous hand through her hair and stepped away from the phone so they could take a look.

Val squinted at the screen—did people really read text this small? It was, like she said, some kind of academic text, not a phone call. Unlike most borrowers, they had been taught to read, but trying to pry apart the different lines made their head swim. Phoebe slapped her hand across the glass several times, speeding through the tight lines of jargon.

“Not everything on the internet is true,” Val wavered.

“Yeah, I’m a grad student, I have figured that out. And a lot of the easy results were nonsense, but these are from reputable journals. And I keep seeing references back to this one French author, and I have no idea how to get that translated, but there’s a few pictures thrown in with the rest of the figures.”

Val was suddenly lightheaded. If there was real, documented evidence of borrowers just floating around online for any curious human to find, how long until everyone knew? Until people started flushing out colonies or—was that already happening? They’d never heard borrower news from more than a few miles away, they had no idea what might be happening across the country, never mind France. Was it just a matter of time?

“And there are some really good medical diagrams someone sketched up in this vet journal, which are…,” Phoebe said, swiping through her tabs. “Oh, shit. I meant to skip that one, I’m sorry.”

Their thin fur stiffened as the screen flashed. Phoebe hastily swiped onto a different screen, but not so quickly that Val didn’t see it. A photo, black and white, of a body with a clean incision down their middle. Childhood stories about lab rats and cruel experiments flickered through their head. Had they been true after all? This had to be edited.

“G-go back to that,” Val said.

“No, you don’t need to look at that.”

“Is it real?”

Phoebe looked back at them hesitantly. they stiffened as her eyes landed on them, struck again by instinct warning them against any eye contact with a threat. They couldn’t quite read her expression without getting closer, and then she turned back to the phone to scroll to something else.

“Look, there’s other photos too, see?” Phoebe ducked out of the way to show off a brief slideshow of a young man leaning against a cup. Val bit their lip. He didn’t have a tail, but other than that the photos looked real. And lots of borrowers lost their tails, or maybe the man could have been shrunk, like Phoebe. She tapped the screen again. “And here, uh, studies on sprite anatomy. These are the sketches I was talking about.”

“I’m not a sprite?” Val said nervously.

But the diagram looked…well, it sure looked like a borrower skull. Almost human, with more threatening teeth and proportionately larger eye sockets. Phoebe scrolled too fast to pay much attention to the details, though. Were there other sorts of borrowers out there? Or something else altogether?

“So what are you, then? You didn’t really say, so I couldn’t get as specific as I wanted, and honestly none of them looked quite like you. I saw sprite a couple times, and the one about the girl in the photos was saying imp, and one of the others just said diminutive humanoids…”

She looked back at them expectantly and Val bit their lip. What did it matter if she knew that little bit more? She would only be able to use it to find more information if it had already been posted and it might be nice to know if borrowers had already been discovered elsewhere in the world, if the others should know.

“I’m a borrower, but—”

There was a loud crash, either from the storm outside or inside their own head, Val couldn’t tell. It cut them off, either way. Everything went dark, then everything went soft. They were standing on crumpled fleece, tucked into the vast sweater they’d just been wearing. They were back to their own, natural size. 

A loud thud, a heavy groan, and a tremor through the carpet. Val’s heart skipped a beat. Phoebe was back to her usual size too and they were sitting in the middle of her living room.

They had to get away.

The whole morning had been a disaster.

They’d hurt her.

They had to get away.

Val turned towards the light and started running. As they stepped into the light, they were faced with the sheer wall of the back of the couch. It sounded like she had tripped or fallen or something and they had to hope that would give them enough of a head start to get out of reach. They bit their lip and clawed their way to the top, thinking they could jump over and get under a bookshelf before, before, before—Phoebe shouted at them.

“Woah, woah, stop! Hey!”

They chirped in panic as fat white fingers curled around their chest. They scrambled to keep their hold, their freedom, but it was useless. Their claws tore through the threads Val clung to and Phoebe was free to pull them into the air.

They kicked twice then gave up, shivering as they fell into her palm. They'd been through this before. She had them, she’d do whatever she wanted with them and if she could harass a giant for answers, they were terrified of what she might do now that they were toy-sized again.

-

tagging: @da3dm @whumpsday @gt-daboss (not sure if you wanted to be added to everything or not?)

please send an ask, comment, or dm to be added or removed to the taglist! requests in the tags are easy to miss

[gaybae1021]

Kiki’s Rainbow Baby

Tw: Mentions of abortion and miscarriage

So I’ve had a lot of thoughts about motherhood in mcd. With Jess having a lot of kids, Aphmau the character ending up with 4 children by season 3, and Irene’s og title being “the Matron”, I think motherhood is a big theme in mcd. By itself that isn’t a bad thing, I love parental relationships, and the prevalence of adopted families is very wholesome. That being said, this theme of motherhood sometimes clashes with the actual content of the story. Specifically in regards to Travis’s mother, and Kiki.

Both of them ended up pregnant by absolutely despicable people, and at least for Kiki, came as a complete surprise. Despite this, the story can’t even fathom the idea that they wouldn’t want these children. They aren’t even allowed to have complicated feelings about it. I know abortion is a heavy topic that might’ve not have been appropriate for the age of the audience, but not only were the characters not offered a choice, another option just fully does not exist within the story. They are assumed to be baby-crazy, probably because that’s what Jess feels.

I’m going to largely focus on Kiki because Travis’s mom was never really much of a character, and my rewrite of her is still in progress. So here’s my thoughts about Kiki.

The amulet from the og mcd is the most terrifying thing I’ve seen outside of a horror movie. At least with sex people recognize that pregnancy is a risk. But Kiki was given a piece of jewelry, something she assumed was just a gift. And because of that simple act she experienced severe pregnancy symptoms had a child to take care of. As someone with a fear of getting pregnant this would absolutely cause me to have a complete mental breakdown. Because of this I’ve removed the amulet from the story entirely.

In my rewrite, Zane and Kiki just have a normal one-night stand. Zane is less of an outright evil monster in my version, but that being said, his fling with Kiki was still built entirely off of deception, disguising both his identity and appearance. So I still wanted Kiki to have a strong reason to keep the pregnancy.

Shoutout to jurygarroth’s trans Kiki comic, not only is it wholesome, I also think it’s an excellent explanation for why Kiki would be excited about being a mom separate from her feelings about Zane. I definitely wanted to do something along those lines. Though obviously without the amulet, trans Kiki isn’t an option for me, so I had to come up with something else.

So I imagine Kiki is one of the slightly older characters, around late twenties during season 1. After the events surrounding Donna and Logan’s wedding, Kiki started to feel off. After this feeling persisted for a few weeks she went to Zoey, who confirmed that she was pregnant. Despite the unfortunate circumstances surrounding it, after the initial shock Kiki was actually very happy about the news. However, as time went on Kiki began acting strangely. She isolated herself from her friends and brother. Her only significant interactions were her frequent check-ups with Zoey, with her growing more and more paranoid over every little thing.

Aph, growing increasingly concerned about Kiki, went to Brendan. He admitted that knew what was bothering Kiki, but also said it wasn’t his place to talk about it without her there. So Aph decided to pay Kiki a visit.

After some pushing, Kiki revealed that she was married when she was younger, but that marriage had fallen apart after a series of infertility issues and multiple miscarriages. Kiki had come to Phoenix Drop as a way to start over, a new place where she could focus on finding new things that made her happy, rather than hoping for something that just wasn’t meant to be. It’s why she got interested in animal care and handling. But even after finding her passion, it didn’t make her losses hurt any less.

Kiki had gotten into other romances while staying in Phoenix Drop, but always cut things off before they got too serious. To her, being alone was easier than risking more loss, both in terms of her lost children and her first partner’s rejection of her.

But now, she was pregnant again. And unlike the first times, she hadn’t even had to try. She took this as a sign, that if the pregnancy had come so easy then maybe this time, it would work. But she was so determined to not lose it that she was scared to do anything that might cause her physical or emotional stress. But of course, isolating herself with just her thoughts during this delicate time was only causing her harm.

Aph was, of course, heartbroken that Kiki had been going through this by herself. She eventually convinces Kiki to talk to Zoey about it, who gets Kiki to start going outside again. Kiki starts to open up to the rest of the village, and builds a good support system.

Leona was ultimately very premature, and had several complications. Zoey didn’t have much hope for Leona surviving beyond a few days, but Kiki was absolutely unwilling to accept that. The day after literally giving birth she took Leona to Bodolf’s tribe, in the hopes that turning Leona would give her the extra strength she needed. The turn was successful, and Leona’s health improved. Kiki finally got to see her child open their eyes.

[talesfromthesnogbox]

Let's Talk Turkey

Summary: Alex calls Henry to talk turkey. Henry's POV of Red, White & Royal Blue, Chapter Four, pages 76-82

Rating: All

Word Count: 2,179

AO3 Link

Henry was no stranger to insomnia. Three o’clock in the morning was a less than comforting time for him to be awake, but a familiar time nonetheless. It was quiet, it was peaceful; he was overtired enough to be entirely without thought, but awake enough to focus on the finer details of the latest episode of Bake Off. Until his phone chimed that is.

Alex Claremont-Diaz [3:02 AM]

THEY KNOW

He frowned at his phone. There was nothing new about receiving a text message from one Alex Claremont-Diaz, but the familiar name on his screen still sent bubbles of excitement through him. 

Alex Claremont-Diaz [3:02 AM]

THEY KNOW I HAVE ROBBED THEM OF FIVE-STAR ACCOMMODATIONS TO SIT IN A CAGE IN MY ROOM, AND THE MINUTE I TURN MY BACK THEY ARE GOING TO FEAST ON MY FLESH.

The confusion only lasts a moment before the realization dawns, and a chuckle erupts from between Henry’s lips. Right, the turkeys. A stupid tradition in his opinion, and Alex is completely correct to be upset about it, but the turn of events where he was now on turkey duty was just plain hilarious.

Please send photos

Henry is only half disappointed when a photo comes through, and it wasn’t of Alex shirtless in his bed. He’d been privy to sending those as of late, and every time without fail it sent Henry into a horny, lovesick tailspin… he’d never responded to one of Alex’s bedtime selfies out of self preservation.

He’d seen turkeys before, and Cornbread didn’t look any different than any other turkey, but he was truly hideous. The beady eyes, wrinkled skin, it unsettled him to no end. 

I think he’s cute

Alex Claremont-Diaz [3:05 AM]

that’s because you can’t hear all the menacing gobbling

Yes, famously the most sinister of all animal sounds, the gobble

Before he could even lower his phone and go back to Bake Off, his phone was ringing.

INCOMING CALL

Alex Claremont-Diaz

Henry panicked. Within the first few months of their friendship, they’d actually managed to act like real adult human beings, and despite quite a lot of ribbing from either side (flirting more like it, from Henry at least), it seemed like their friendship was actually blossoming past that of some of his “stately” acquaintances. But they’d never spoken on the phone before. Sure, they’d sent each other voice notes, and the occasional snapchat video, but hearing Alex’s smooth voice, the hint of a southern accent, in real time? Enough to send Henry into a spiral. His heart raced, finger hovering over the decline call button, but at the last minute, he picked up.

“You know what, you little shit,” Oh this was more than what Henry’s poor homosexual heart could handle at this time of the night, “you can hear it for yourself and then tell me how you would handle this—”

“Alex?” Henry winced, hearing the crack in his voice. “Have you really rung me at three o’clock in the morning to make me listen to a turkey?”

“Yes, obviously.” It was the most Alex Claremont-Diaz thing he’d ever heard in his short life. Hearing Alex’s voice had him suddenly very awake, and giddy. He’d tried to tamp down the schoolboy crush on the First Son, but then he’d gone and done something stupid, like call Henry to talk turkey, and it came rushing back up to the surface with a vengeance. “Jesus Christ, it’s like they can see into your soul. Cornbread knows my sins, Henry. Cornbread knows what I have done, and he is here to make me atone.” 

While we’re on the topic of sinning… I know how you can atone. Was what Henry would have said if he threw his self control out the window. Which he was about five seconds off from doing. The thought of Alex and sinning… it was late enough to acknowledge that he’d definitely had a flash of a thought of what the dark haired man would look like on his knees.

“Let’s hear the cursed gobble, then.” 

“Okay, brace yourself.”

Henry waited… and waited… but nothing happened. The only sounds were the sounds of his own breathing. He checked to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected, but Alex was still there.

“Truly harrowing.” He said with an eye roll.

“It—okay, this is not representative. They’ve been gobbling all fucking night, I swear.”

“Sure they have.” A smile creeps onto Henry’s face, and his cheeks flushed crimson. The tit-for-tat they had going on felt an awful lot like flirting, only even for the Prince of England’s Hearts, it hadn’t come as naturally as this did. 

“No, hang on. I’m gonna… I’m gonna get one to gobble.” Henry bit his lip when he heard rustling from the other side of the phone. Alex was moving from what sounded like his crisp bed sheets, and the thought of the two of them side-by-side in bed chatting had a warm feeling spread through his chest. “Um, how do you get a turkey to gobble?”

He bit back a laugh. “Try gobbling. And see if he gobbles back.” 

“Are you serious?”

“We hunt loads of wild turkeys in the spring.” Henry supplies, unhelpfully. He also, unhelpfully, leaves out the part where that was a complete lie. “The trick is to get into the mind of the turkey.” 

“How the hell do I do that?”

He sits up straighter in bed, prompting David to turn to him questioningly. “So,” he says with a smile, patting the dog on the head, “do as I say. You have to get quite close to the turkey, like, physically.” Henry once again holds back a giggle as he hears Alex move. “Make eye contact with the turkey. Do you have it?”

“Yeah.”

Henry’s breath hitched at how deep and breathy Alex’s voice sounded. It was intimate, oddly so, for what they were actually talking about.

He shook his head and put on his director’s hat, pulling from memories of visiting his dad on set and all the ridiculous things he’d heard filmmakers say.

“Right, now hold it.” He dipped his voice down low, trying his best to hide his smile. “Connect with the turkey. Earn the turkey’s trust… befriend the turkey… buy a summer home in Majorca with the turkey—”

“Oh I fucking hate you!”

A deep laugh erupted from Henry, and for a second, he forgot it was three A.M. and the rest of the palace, hell the rest of the country was sleeping. It was just him and his crush bonding over Alex’s turkey trauma. In the background, he could hear a faint gobble, which sent him into another fit of laughter, this one earning a dissatisfied groan from a sleeping David.

“Goddamnit, did you hear that?”

“Sorry, what? I’ve been stricken deaf.”

“You’re such a dick.”

Talking turkey with Alex weirdly enough felt incredibly natural. The fear Henry felt before picking up the call had completely dissipated as soon as he’d heard Alex’s smooth voice, and their banter paddled back and forth with ease. 

The conversation had turned to utter nonsense so quickly, and as much as Bea and Pez were totally in the know about his gay disaster antics, he was absolutely never telling them about this.

“Raptors in my bedroom, Henry. And you want me to go to sleep like they’re not gonna bust out of their enclosures and take over the island the minute I close my eyes? Okay. Maybe your white ass.”

“I’m really going to have you offed. You’ll never see it coming.  Our assassins are trained in discretion. They will come in the night, and it will look like a humiliating accident.”

“Autoerotic asphyxiation?” Henry spluttered. Oh no, he thought, Alex absolutely can not make this sexual, his poor heart couldn’t take that.

He had to slow down the conversation the only way he knew how. “Toilet heart attack. You’ve been warned.” Nailed it. 

“I thought you’d kill me in a more personal way. Silk pillow over my face, slow and gentle suffocation. Just you and me. Sensual.” Henry’s head thumped against the headboard as he let out a rush of air. Could it possible that Alex was… flirting? The entire night’s antics were fairly tame so far, but you and me, and sensual ran through his mind on repeat faster than anything else ever had. This could be a slippery slope, one he wouldn’t be able to dig himself out of if it went wrong, one that could possibly out him to not only an entire nation, but the entire world if it went horribly sideways. Not that he thought Alex would out him, but… well Henry had dealt with these hot popular jock types before, and it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. 

“Ha. Well.” 

It only took a few more minutes of flirting for David to get visibly annoyed with Henry keeping him awake, and for him to wander back over and lick at his hand. And with David came Bea’s devil of a cat, Mr. Wobbles. God only knew how they were friends and didn’t fight like, well, like cats and dogs. 

Alex seemed amused by Henry’s own, albeit friendlier, bedroom petting zoo, and Henry tried to ignore the hint of fondness in Alex’s voice. 

“So you like Bake Off, huh?” Cutecutecutecutecute, Henry’s mind was still reeling from Alex calling his insomnia activity cute.

“It’s just so soothing.”

Their easy back and forth was cut off abruptly after an hour by Alex’s yawn. Henry knew it was ass-o’clock in the morning, but he didn’t want to hang up, didn’t want this easy exchange to go away. But he knew Alex wasn’t someone he could have, and it was best to cut it off early than to be disappointed by what could have been later.

“Alex. The turkeys are not going to Jurassic Park you. You’re not the bloke from Seinfeld. You’re Jeff Goldblum. Go to sleep.”

It was quiet on the other end of the line, and Henry wonders if Alex had maybe drifted off on his own accord.

“You go to sleep.” It may have been wishful thinking, but he could almost hear the bitten back smile in his voice.

It was childish, it definitely didn’t mean anything, but it felt like a turning point in their relationship. Henry couldn’t help his own smile as he lay back, settling into his pillow. “I will.”

“Okay. But like, why if they gobble again?”

Henry shook his head. “Go sleep in June’s room, you numpty.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Henry loved romance novels, he’d enjoyed the occasional romantic comedy film, although he never quite understood some of the actions of the main characters. Until now that is. He used to roll his eyes whenever anyone dared utter the words “you hang up first”, but now here he was. He didn’t want to do it. Henry didn’t want to be the one to hang up this call, and end whatever impasse they’d found themselves standing at.

But it was four in the morning, and he had an appearance to make in the morning.

“Okay.” It was a bittersweet goodbye. “So. Good night.”

“Cool. Good night.”

The click of the phone was startling after a solid hour of easy conversation, and the silence in his room was suddenly absolutely deafening. He’d gone from feeling like Alex was right beside him, to the stark realization that it was a fantasy he’d never get to experience. 

He’d quickly been making his way up the ranks towards being one of Henry’s best friends, but the knowledge that that’s all they’d be left Henry sighing into his pillow. 

David had sidled up to one side of him, resting his head on the pillow beside Henry, and Mr. Wobbles to his other side. He felt like they knew, without understanding any of these silly human emotions, they knew that Henry needed the extra love tonight so he wouldn’t be lonely. 

A ping from his phone cut through the silence suddenly, startling him into action.

Alex Claremont-Diaz [4:15 A.M.]

i sent pics of turkeys so i deserve pics of your animals too

Henry chuckled and decided it was high time he try to match one of Alex’s infamous bed selfies. He mussed his hair up a bit as to not look too pristine, and threw one of his arms above his head, hoping he looked nonchalant, and not like he was trying to show off his bicep. (Although he quite liked the way the deep blue of his sleep shirt contrasted with his pale skin, and the short sleeve was tight enough to accentuate the muscle he did have.)

It took a few tries to get the angle right, to get both animals looking their cutest, and to get his face to look as relaxed as possible, but he couldn’t hide the flush that painted his cheeks. 

Before he could think about it too much, he chose the best photo and hit “send”

This is what I must endure

Good night, honestly.

[thinkin-bout-milgram]

Cat: Initial Thoughts

Venus here, sorry if this is shakier than usual! I have a lot less thoughts on this MV for one reason or another, so it’ll probably be faster and possibly less detailed, but I want to get my opinions into the world anyways.

Let’s just get to it!

T/W: suicide, substance abuse, homophobia

Kazui didn’t cheat on his wife.

As always, I’m using @onigiriico​’s super fast translation of the audio drama, so thanks so much!

In said audio drama, Es says Kazui was unfaithful. However, he says that “it didn’t even turn into infidelity.” Obviously, that implies that it could have been or that it got close, but he doesn’t say it’s actually infidelity, and in most senses, I’m willing to believe him.

At 2:20, Kazui has just recently had the apple sneak up on him again. He seems distressed, saying he “can’t be normal,” and then takes off his ring and says, cigarette in hand, “let’s take a breather.” His wife looks quite distressed. 

My best guess is that this is Kazui asking for a break. Now, obviously, it’s not the most faithful thing to be super tempted in cheating to the point of asking for a break. Still, it does mean that he did stop himself before he violated an active relationship where it seemed like nothing was wrong, so that’s a plus.

I’m not sure if it was just straight-up temptation or if he might have had an emotional affair with someone. Emotional affair would make some sense to me (more on that in a sec), but I have no idea who it would be with. I’m honestly hoping the interview questions might help us out there to an extent.

The person Kazui didn’t-quite-cheat with is someone who stands out from the other people Kazui meets.

This is largely based upon my interpretation of 1:08, shortly after the wedding sequence.

There are a ton of apples, but most of them are red. In fact, we only see one green apple. That green apple is the one that follows Kazui throughout the rest of this MV, and it’s the one that keeps sneaking up on him in the half MV. Because it’s the one he eventually bites, I think there’s plenty of reason to believe that this is the person he has relations with outside of his marriage.

I want to focus on the fact that it is green, because that obviously makes it stand out. I don’t think that this is just to make it more identifiable; I think there’s a point being made here.

Kazui IS gay?

Yeah, uh... I wasn’t sold on this one at first, when I first watched half, but as I think I’ve said before, the longer we go on, the more I think it’s true. Like, yeah, it does seem like there’s more to it than just Kazui having relations outside of his marriage.

The entire MV, he’s talking about the charade. He’s clearly living the life that a guy is “supposed” to lead; eventually, you get married to a woman and go down the journey of life together. Still, the fact that, even at the altar, he calls it “loving affection minus love” seems to imply that he feels, at least in retrospect, like the love was never present. He didn’t fall out of love with his wife, it simply wasn’t ever there. He married her out of obligation.

Through in the suspect interview questions about his childhood friend who he went fishing with or whatever and lines from Kazui’s POV saying stuff like “I can’t be normal,” and... I think Kazui is kinda just a closeted gay man?

I say “just” here, and I mean that literally. If you trust his audio drama, he says that he wants his “sin” to be found out, but even so, Es hasn’t found it yet. To me, my best theory is that he just has internalized homophobia and his big “sin” is the fact that he’s gay. I honestly kinda hate this explanation though, just because that is nowhere NEAR a crime on the level of the other prisoners, so please let me know if you disagree/if I’m missing something here.

Kazui has developed some unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I don’t remember if we’ve heard why Kazui smokes before. I know that Shidou says that he does it because he wants to be unhealthy, and Mikoto presumably does because he thinks it makes him seem cool or something. I don’t remember learning anything similar about Kazui.

Still, with the moments at which he pulls out a cigarette or a drink in this MV, I definitely feel like he’s using substances to dull the pain of... I don’t know, life? His constant lying and the self hatred that goes along with it, probably. 

Obviously, he went to the bar in the half MV, but this time, the devs are definitely trying to draw attention to it. There’s a line in the song that’s literally just “oh wow I’m drunk,” and that line is important enough that it shows up as background text at other points in the MV. 

I don’t really know what this means for Kazui character interpretation, but it’s something to consider. For whatever it’s worth, it does make me believe the self-pitying “act” a little bit more; if he didn’t actually pity himself/feel upset that he has to lie all the time, I don’t know what he’s drinking so much for.

Kazui’s wife committed suicide because... ???

This is one of the big places where I’m kinda stumped. Kazui says that she died because he told her the truth. If I’m right and his crime is being gay... I don’t get it? 

I know that divorce is pretty taboo in Japan, so my best shot at it would be that, in being honest with everything, Kazui asks for a divorce because he knows that he can’t ever love her. If that would mean that she’s dead socially or something, that COULD be a potential reason she would commit suicide? I don’t love that explanation, but it’s all that I have right now.

Other Things I Want To Mention But Don’t Have Full Thoughts On:

- In the first MV, Kazui bites the apple. In the second one, he bites the dove. There’s probably some connection here, but I honestly have no idea what it could be.

- “Love, it’s tacky, this two way deceit.” What two-way deceit is Kazui talking about? Like, I get him calling himself the perpetrator and her the victim if he’s saying she’s a victim of his lies. Still, if that’s the case, why would the deceit be two-way? 

- Copzui canon? I saw that undercover cop theory and mostly disregarded it as “probably too out there to be true,” but honestly, it seems basically confirmed at this point. The only struggle I have is what to do with the information. I don’t think that knowing he’s a cop really changes anything about how I read his character or the situation? Other than possibly suggesting that yes, he cares very much about social laws/rules and making sure society stays “correct.”

- What do I make of Kazui asking for an innocent verdict along with the premise of “I can protect the other prisoners”? I don’t really like him bargaining with his strength for a verdict--especially after Kotoko trial 1, I don’t trust bartered verdicts--but on the other hand, it’s true that it’d be nice to have him on defense for whatever the devs might spring on us between trials 2 and 3. 

Anyways...

CURRENT VOTE: INNOCENT

I was actually pretty shocked when I opened the votes and saw a slight guilty majority. To me, the big thing is that... well, I don’t really know why I’d vote him guilty. He’s useful to us, he doesn’t seem like he’s done all that much wrong. I can’t really come up with a genuine reason that I’d want to give him a guilty verdict at this point, so it’s innocent for me.

(Plus, if I’m not sure, I always lean towards a 50/50 so it’s more possible to change the verdict later. So, while he’s guilty-leaning, I’m DEFINITELY voting innocent.)

[girlactionfigure]

WITH EYES FULL HORROR Thoughts on the Hamas massacre of Jews

I deliberated on whether to write this. It seems obvious to me that in times of war we should abstain from things that can demoralise and immobilise. But on reflection I don’t think it does that. As our greatest warrior was also our greatest poet, King David, I think we are a people uniquely constituted to be tough and soulful at the same time. We’ve seen a lot of horrific footage from the massacre perpetuated by Hamas. It is not weakness to have tears - it is holy. God forbid we should become unfeeling, numb bastards that engage in the kind of butchery these Islamic fundamentalists celebrate. They will think it’s a victory that they have caused us pain. They will whoop and halloo and bear their teeth in wicked, wolfish grins to see us suffer and think we are weak. Oh, how pitiful is their blindness to the depths of experience life has to offer. They will never understand we are the people who turn every curse into a blessing and that there is no horror we can’t walk through in utter confidence a better time will come.

So I am going to write this. 

At the same time, if we each process an ounce of trauma here and there, we’ll be able to get on with the task in hand - defeating our enemies - whilst keeping our heads in a relatively good enough shape to get the job done.

So I tried to avoid seeing grisly footage from the massacre. I wouldn’t open any videos. I’d squint my eyes and scroll past photos. I thought to myself that I know something horrific has happened - seeing specific imagery is not going to enhance my intellectual or emotional insight. I’d obviously get glimpses of nightmarish forms. Barbecued people. Deformed anatomy of twisted girls. But I wouldn’t focus. They were blurred glimpses of horror I kept in a fog so that I could try to shield myself from trauma. But of course it seeps in. And you inevitably see more than you intended. And you inevitably watch more than you should. In the end I saw the dead bodies. And I saw some of the horrors real people endured.

My grandma died earlier this week and her funeral is tomorrow. I haven’t really been able to connect with my sadness over that because of everything that has happened - the crisis that has demanded action and the saturation of hellish crimes that have accompanied it. I’m just low level pissed off and can’t be bothered with anyone. I just took a shower and started crying as images I’ve seen this week emerged in the mist of my mind. But it wasn’t the imagery of dead bodies. It wasn’t the imagery of corpses. It was the imagery that has really haunted me. More than dead bodies, what has really haunted me were the images of living people experiencing fear. People whose souls were still in their body and who wanted to live. It was their faces. And above all their eyes. There’s one video of teenagers at a music concert huddled in a bunker with shot children groaning on the floor. A young man films with his phone. Why? Instinct? Believing he was going to die and that people must know? To try and make a nightmare less real by watching it through a screen? And then we see his face. I’ve never seen such eyes. I have never seen such eyes. No creature should know such fear. Another video sees a hostage tied up on the floor gazing at his tormentors. And his eyes. The widest eyes that could swallow the stars.

These are eyes I never want to see again. I never want to see those eyes. But they’re inside my head looking at me tonight. I don’t know how to pray, to wish, to magic away their fear. I can’t abide their fear. I can’t abide their fear. For the love of God, fill those eyes with everything they’ve ever dreamed of and everything their family have ever dreamed of for them and turn that fear into a speck so small it is blown away on the wind beyond the ocean and never found again.

I can’t imagine what those eyes were seeing. But in those eyes I could see the swirling fear of every sin that has been committed since Cain killed Abel. These were eyes gazing at every horror that’s taken place under the sun.

My eyes are dripping as I write this. No amount of tears will cleanse away what we have seen. 

Oh God, what they did to them. What they did to them. 

There has never been a more necessary mission for the Jewish people than to destroy Hamas - and anyone who seeks to hurt us - so that no eyes will ever hold such fear again.

LEE KERN

[lilas]

mostly spoiler free thoughts on aville going into DT

Avi’li and Erenville get close after ENW

Avi’li is in recovery in Sharlayan for at least a month; he’s not himself, he has a hard time doing basic things without him getting tired, he’s also bored and restless and irritated with everyone around him, and he’s unpacking a lot of trauma that’s culminated over the course of the story

He escapes often to Labyrinthos just to get away from people, and he starts working regularly with Erenville as a result, at first because it’s something to do that isn’t staring into the void and feeling eternity collapse around him, but it becomes a chance for Avi’li to reconnect to nature again, to the earth and life that he fought so hard to preserve

This is the focus of Adventures in Labyrinthos, a little collection of oneshots I’ve been writing on and off; just two strangers getting to know each other, learning about each other, and bonding over their shared interests

They just click and there’s some attraction and crushing there that neither of them is keen to act on

Erenville fully believes this is a short lived thing; they both travel to far flung corners of the world for various reasons, they may never cross paths again; so he’s satisfied leaving things unspoken, enjoys the bubbly feeling for what it is now, and is fine letting it go

Avi’li isn’t interested in maintaining any romantic relationship during this time; he’s focusing on himself, he doesn’t feel quite human sometimes, he doesn’t feel capable of meeting the emotional needs of other people, much less a romantic partner where there’s a higher expectation for reciprocity

He is also in love with Yugiri, and is grappling with where he wants to take their relationship and what feels right for both of them

There is also an element of denying yourself joy as a form of punishment. Avi’li isn’t aware he’s doing this. What is he punishing himself for? I think for him, he feels guilty he’s not… happier? He’s a hero, he saved the world, he acted selflessly….but he can’t return the same joy he sees when he’s thanked or applauded or praised.

Anyway

They reunite again before DT, obviously

Avi’li is better, he’s in a much healthier place after his experiences in the ENW patches

Erenville is considering things now. He and Avi’li will be traveling together for some time, maybe it’s worth it to see where things go?

Avi’li at this point has also concluded his romance with Yugiri; he feels better for it, he misses her, he’ll always be a little in love with her, but it feels better this way

However

His love for Yugiri, him telling her that he doesn’t feel he can be in a relationship right now because of his emotional/mental state—that’s echoing in his mind every time he looks at Erenville

He’s steadfastly ignoring any feelings, but it’s hard because he likes Erenville; theirs is a friendship and a connection Avi’li desperately wants and needs in his life; I don’t think he’s ever been so in tune with someone like this before?

They kiss on the boat to Tural (the boat is free headcanon territory; still in that in between of everything I know to have happened so far, and everything to come)

It happens one evening beneath the stars, talking about nothing, and it’s spur of the moment and amazing until Avi’li ends it

Erenville confesses he likes Avi’li, wants to see where a romantic relationship could go if Avi’li would let them

But Avi’li is afraid and guilty; what if his mental health relapses? What if he hurts Erenville? What about Yugiri? If he can be with Erenville, shouldn’t he go back to Yugiri and try again with her? Doesn’t she deserve that?

So Avi’li rejects him, stating those very reasons, and Erenville is…… understanding but frustrated. What is more frustrating than being rejected not because they didn’t like you back but because of fear and guilt? Because of reluctance to try?

Anyway, this is how we’re starting DT. 😌👍 Where do they go from here? That is to be discovered during MSQ. 🫡

Their dynamics can shift, certain things can happen, anything can impact their relationship so We Will See where they end up by the end of it all. I’ll enjoy the journey no matter the outcome. 💕

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // lean on me.

these walls are my skin. this room is my heart. besides, i have a sister brother.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @monalisastwin , @mads-weasley , @eugene-emt-roe , @mads-weasley

SUMMARY: The Company passes over the Rhine

WARNINGS: The events of episode nine, none of the Camps are depicted — there’s a much more lengthy note in e end notes on AO3.

Spring is in full bloom by the time they cross over the Rhine.

She and Ginny exchange a smile, a small, wavering thing, because Daisy’s stomach still churns all the same in this new place. It’s not Berlin, but it’s still Germany. Germany, which the men were fantasizing about marching into since last June. Whenever Daisy thought about it, she imagined the smell of gunpowder and bodies lining the riverbeds, more land scarred by foxholes and tanks, grass stained with spilled blood. She imagined a permanent ringing in her ears from the artillery fire.

The sky is brilliantly blue, the grass is green, and the only sound breaking through the quiet is that of the trucks rumbling down the road and the men talking about one thing or another.

It looks normal, and Daisy feels a little silly for imagining anything otherwise.

The fact that she has the time to mull over any of it feels misplaced. Like she’s doing something inherently wrong. Every time they entered a new place she was ready to leap off the truck to the first wounded man, and be put to work.

“What’d you think you’re gonna do when all of this is over?”

The question takes her by surprise, she lets her gaze drift back over to Ginny, whose eyes are on the jeep ahead of theirs with more officers.

When it’s over. Inevitably, talks about future plans were springing up all over the place. Word spread fast about Captain Nixon’s divorce. Eugene admitted he’d never actually been able to have his wedding over breakfast, that it was the first thing he would do when the war ended. Daisy looks over the side at signs in a language she still can’t read.

“Rita wants to go home with me, there’s an apartment I wanna get — if it’s still there,” she explains. “I… don’t know what, after that. What about you?”

There’s a pause, like Ginny’s mulling it over.

“Honestly? Haven’t given it much thought.” She starts out, but there’s a level of calmness to the way she says it. “I’ll go home, obviously, but I threw a wrench in all my parents’ plans when I left. Should probably check the collateral on that.”

What surprises Daisy isn’t Ginny’s honesty, but more so the casual way that she says it. Like she’s not afraid of going home to something unknown. As usual, Daisy finds herself caught in the middle of envy and admiration when it comes to how Ginny handles things. And it serves as an acute reminder that she’s staring a whole lot of uncertainty square in the face. Which is to say a lot beyond the most obvious, which Ron told her not to focus on, and he had some sixth sense which granted him that ability to know when she was thinking about it.

He’d pinched her side the other day, sharp and subtle. She nearly jumped three feet in the air. He just gave her a look, like he knew she was getting in her head again. Which she was, but that was neither here nor there.

“I wanna keep doing this.” Daisy admits, looking at her hands. Ginny shifts her attention fully to her, she can feel her stare.

“What, like staying in the Army?” Daisy shakes her head.

“No uh… helping people. I don’t think I have it in me to be in a big hospital though, something smaller,” A private practice, maybe. Somewhere she’s less likely to encounter a blown limb. “I don’t wanna let what I’m good at go to waste.” I don’t want to waste away is what she doesn’t say, but she’s thought about it more than she wants to admit.

If Ginny understands what Daisy’s trying to say, she doesn’t give any indication to how she feels about it.

Never in her life did she imagine a point in the war where she’d be more worried about stretching her legs, but when they pull into the town, it’s the first thing on her mind — letting out a prolonged groan as she stretches out her legs, her back. The chuckle behind her has her rolling her eyes with lingering affection, and she turns her head to see Joe staring at the area around them.

“They’ve got real fuckin’ houses,” he points out, surprised, with that simmering irritation beneath his words.

He had a right to be pissed about it. As did she and every other person occupying the streets right now, being stared at — their war looked like bombed out buildings, rationing, gunfire ringing in their ears and the ever-present threat of a German advance springing them into action again. Even London was scarred by all the air raids over the past four years. How many people had been forced from their homes in Eindhoven and Bastogne?

What do the people here get? Trucks rumbling through their streets and the off-chance that they’re booted from their home for a night.

She doesn’t know what it says about her that she doesn’t feel bad for their circumstances. There’s too much on her mind for her to care about that sort of thing.

“Bet they’ve got lights that work too,” she points out, taking those few steps back to bump his arm with her own, “Indoor plumbing. Better beds.” She casts a look down towards the other officers, makes a mental note to move down there and seeing what’s what — how long they’d be here and what the situation was looking like.

Joe’s lip curls in a way that reminds her of Bastogne, more teeth than smile, something sharp and red-hot burning behind the eyes.

“S’gonna be good times ahead of us, Dais,” he declares, shaking a cigarette from the pack and bringing it to his lips. She can’t help but wonder if he’s saying it moreso to convince himself, than her of that fact.

Dick doesn’t think they’ll be in this town for more than a night, so they don’t completely unload like they had in the previous town. They’d taken hold of the local clinic, its staff mouthing off in puzzled, rapid-fire German and Private Webster playing translator for the whole of the interaction. Like most of them, it involved a lot of shouting, voices overlapping and overpowering one another.

They had five minutes to clear out, and thereafter the place went quiet, the majority of the other combat nurses scattering across town to their respective platoons in their respective companies.

She stares up at the one bookshelf built into the wall. Unsurprisingly, all of the titles were in German, so nothing for her to pluck from the shelves.

A vase of bright yellow daisies sat by the windowsill, catching the sunlight shining through the windows. They made sure the doctor here left the key for the pharmacy in the back behind.

In Haguenau, finding a box of tea felt like striking gold. In Mourmelon, nothing was growing. Here, they actually have a pharmacy.

The door opens with a ringing of the bell — so normal it makes her stomach lurch — and she turns her head. Ron doesn’t seem to notice her at first, with his gaze flitting about the room and for a moment Daisy can’t help but snicker.

“No trinkets here,” she points out, and his gaze snaps to her as though she might’ve actually startled him. “I don’t think your mother needs any more ornate candle holders anyway,” He takes those few steps forward, slight twitch to the corner of his mouth and eyes rolling at her remark. “How’s Janovec? Still ducking out of your sight?” Ron waves his hand dismissively.

“He’ll be fine.”

“Ah, but that’s not what I asked, is it?” Amusement lingers behind his stony gaze and she can’t help but roll her eyes with affection. Ridiculous. That’s what he is. There’s no other way to describe how much he got a kick out of watching replacements squirm at the sight of him. Ridiculous like the antics of a teenage boy telling someone a scary story.

He shrugs, nonplussed, but when he’s about to speak again the door slams open. Daisy snaps her gaze to a panting, red-faced Perconte.

“Major… Major Winters needs you at the front, sir.”

They share a look, and a nod, and then he’s off.

Spring was in full bloom over the Rhine. It didn’t look like that in the camps. A whole week and a few days later the smell of it still lingers in her nose. She doesn’t get how anyone could’ve missed it, which seems to be the collective question. How didn’t you know? It only took the patrol a few hours to come across it, after all. There’s a women’s camp down the road — a trembling voice and a hard swallow.

She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t think there was anything she could say.

She didn’t see Joe much in the days that followed, preoccupied with helping where she could until the Hospital unit could be pulled up. She could really only imagine how he was taking it. They moved again before she could catch him.

Washing her hands didn’t do much when the discomfort was embedded beneath her skin.

She simply knew she had to see Joe. To be there, in some way. That’s what a friend would do, and he’d been there for her when he couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was going through, how she was feeling.

She gathers from a handful of people that he’s on watch — which was more like her inquiring to a handful of men she immediately clocked as replacements saying it so flippantly that it rubs her the wrong way. She can only assume that they haven’t seen it, because they seemed especially pissed over his “bad mood.” And if she weren’t so occupied with actually seeing him — she would’ve given them the verbal lashing herself. But Daisy didn’t care about them. She cares about Joe.

Joe, who, when she finds him, is just where they said he’d be: on lookout, sidled up at the outpost of sandbags and staring down the sights of the machine gun all alone. Daisy doesn’t announce herself, but she does lift her hand to let him know she’s there. She doesn’t miss the way he glances at her through his peripheral vision, which is more like an irritated side eye than it is neutral acknowledgement.

“Save the sage advice, Dais, I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it.” His words are sharp, he barely gives her a second glance. She instead slips into the post silently, and that’s when he gives her a side glance and a weird look.

“Alright,” she agrees, but her acknowledgement doesn’t bring him any solace — because he continues.

“M’not gonna fucking calm down.”

“That’s fine.”

“And I don’t give a shit if that bothers you.”

“That’s fine.” Joe turns his head, giving her a narrow-eyed look. Daisy sits down, slumping against the wall, looking right back at him. His eyes look her up, and down, then up again — like he’s only just now realizing she really isn’t there to put a leash on him.

“Th’hell do you want, then?”

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” she states plainly, offering little more than a shrug as he looks down the sights of the machine gun. “Besides, it’s been quiet.”

Quiet. The word hangs heavy in the air, Joe doesn’t give her some dry remark or otherwise indicates that he doesn’t want her around. If he told her to fuck off, she’d do that — if he told her to stay, then she’d do that. But she wouldn’t get cross with him for being upset.

She couldn’t even imagine what this was all like for him, so who was she to tell him how to feel?

They’re quiet for a solid five minutes, broken up only by the occasional breeze.

“I had to tell them all to go back in there,” Joe says. Daisy looks at him, saying nothing. “At the men’s camp. Major Winters made me do it.” Silence again, Daisy pulls her knees into her chest.

“That’s fucked up,” is what she offers, continuing to look at him. His grip tightens.

“Think so?” he grunts out, clearly being rhetorical. “Nothin’ about it being necessary or some bullshit words of wisdom like that?”

“I already told you that’s not why I’m here, so no,” Daisy reminds him. Joe’s exhale is sharp as he lets go of his grip, shifts in his spot until he’s sat beside her, legs outstretched, thigh against her foot and head resting against the wall of sandbags behind them. His eyes shut in time with the clench of his jaw.

“I am so fucking tired of being told to calm down,” he seethes, “Glad a week’s enough time to get the fuck over it for the rest of ‘em. What kind of shit is that?” He keeps going, his words like water built up behind a cracking dam finally able to flood a riverbank. It all comes out and even when he pauses every now and again, Daisy says nothing.

She’ll dig along the bank to accommodate, but she won’t tell him to reel it in.

Joe’s always known exactly how he feels about things — found a way to phrase it even if it wasn’t the most eloquent thing in the world. It didn’t have to be eloquent. He didn’t owe anybody that. He’s mad and people are telling him to calm down because… they made the citizens clean up and they enacted martial law. Done, signed, sealed, delivered; and maybe for some that was enough, but no one gets to tell Joe when he has to get over it.

And if she feels helpless, with hands that were trained to help in a situation like this, she can only imagine how he’s feeling.

His eyes are glassy, and he’s stumbling over his words a little more, but Daisy still doesn’t speak, lending him her ear and a little more than that.

Her hand goes to his back, fingers splaying out between the middle of his shoulder blades before sliding around him — and she brings him toward her, until his head is in the space between her neck and shoulder and his lashes brush against her skin. This is what I’m here for, her thumb rubs a circle into his shoulder. She doesn’t say anything when his shoulders begin to shake, a tremor that wracks his body. She just holds him tighter. Even if we can’t do anything else — we can do this.

When his nails dig into her a little too hard, she doesn’t flinch away. He cries and leans half his weight on her and Daisy does her damndest to hold herself up and keep him close, eyes shutting as she envelopes him as much as she can.

She’ll hold him until he doesn’t need it anymore and if that moment never comes — that’s okay too.

[prismaticstreams]

How to balance all your interests when you have multiple passions?

I’ve been pondering how to balance all my different passions, interests, and side hustles, as I’m the kind of person who tends to love variety and easily gets excited about new projects. It’s often the completion part that I struggle with! This is a fairly common conundrum for certain personality types, and can also be related to conditions like ADHD. It can be really hard to know how to streamline and simplify things to make it more manageable and less chaotic.

Chronic illness can be a factor here too, as I often start a new project in a high energy period, but then may not have the physical energy to easily complete it. It can be hard to know how to handle this sometimes, as I can’t predict how I’ll feel from day to day or week to week. Sometimes I just have to let something go for a while, and accept that I will come back to it later. I also accept that there’s some projects I will abandon, and I don’t see it as a major problem as long as there’s no financial investment.

So how do you handle this tendency? 

I personally find it’s best to embrace it, and find ways to work around it rather than trying to pigeonhole myself into only one project, passion or interest at a time. However, if you’re trying to make money, earn an income or build a business - and you need to pay the bills with it to survive - then you will probably need to narrow down to one thing at a time for work. You can still allow yourself freedom to explore in your free time, though.

For example, I love borrowing a wide range of books from the library, and reading about a bunch of different topics at once. Switching from one book to another works for me and I find it stimulating. The great thing is that the books all get returned to the library, so they don't create long-term clutter. I also enjoy writing blog posts about a range of different topics, rather than sticking to one particular subject.

Same goes for my art - I have one style that I sell commercially, and then do whatever I want in the rest of my spare time as it captures my fancy. I find creating different IG/Tumblr accounts for particular art styles/niches works well. If it becomes popular and sells it's a cool bonus, but I don't worry too much about it making money. Digital art is great because it doesn't take up storage space, so I'm shifting from doing large pieces on canvas to doing more digital art.

Having said all that, I do have a bunch of blogs and Tumblr accounts floating around on the internet that I've forgotten about and largely abandoned. Same with old creative projects in storage. But it's okay, because I enjoyed exploring that idea/hobby/style for a brief period of time. Sometimes I go back and integrate creative stuff from the past into my current projects (for example, taking an old blog post and updating it for my current blog).

It can become a problem if you waste a lot of money on hobbies you forget about or business ideas that never get off the ground, so I’d recommend finding ways to avoid spending too much money to begin with. Ideally, it’s best to spend no money and find free activities, but obviously this is not always possible. My post about Decluttering My Fantasy Self may be relevant if this is you.

If you're multipassionate, I don't think there's one right or wrong way to manage your interests and hobbies. Some people like to focus intensely on one hobby at a time, then move on to something else. Others enjoy moving between different interests simultaneously to keep them stimulated. I've done both at different times in my life. Emilie Wapnick has a great book about this called How to Be Everything which is more focused on career, but you can apply the same principles to hobbies and side hustles as well.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, I know I said I don’t give one fuck about any Taskmaster s18 contestants who aren't Andy Zaltzman, but I do want to post a bit more about Rosie Jones and representation (if you swapped out Andy Zaltzman for someone I cared about less, then the big story that I'd be really excitedly posting about this week would be that I can't wait to see Rosie Jones on there). And I wanted to put it in a separate post from the stuff about these people as comedians, because I don’t want everything I have to say about Rosie Jones to come back to disability representation. There are so many reasons why her style of humour is a perfect fit for Taskmaster, reasons that have nothing to do with disability. So here’s a post to talk about the disability stuff, from an able-bodied person who isn’t really qualified to talk about that, and outside this post I’ll try to keep the focus on her comedy.

I’m interested to see how much of this season has tasks tailored to things Rosie Jones can do (avoiding running, fine motor skills with hands, complicated or fast speech), versus tasks that do have things she can’t do but Rosie Jones gets accommodations (ie. everyone else paints freehand but Rosie gets something guided). I assume it’ll be some mix of both, and both are good! Both are good models for how real life should work, accessibility-wise, weaving accommodation into all the different aspects.

I expect the Taskmaster lineup announcement will provoke some comments disagreeing with that, and I assume that’s why Rosie decided to get off social media before it. However, in this post I really want to respond to one particular YouTube comment I once read on a Rosie Jones video, by someone who said you shouldn’t do stand-up comedy with a speech impediment for the same reason why people don’t play professional basketball if they’re five feet tall, comedy doesn't work when people can't understand your speech, and this is why you saw comedians from lots of different minority groups working 20 years ago, but there were no comedians with speech impairments twenty years ago, because they didn’t have “diversity & inclusion” policies twenty years ago and only a diversity & inclusion policy could cause people to pretend they understand Rosie Jones.

First of all, I’m feeling the need to reply to that comment because: Francesca Martinez. It’s objectively untrue to say there weren’t stand-up comedians with cerebral palsy (and an associated speech impairment) twenty years ago, there was Francesca Martinez. I’m sure there have been other comedians with cerebral palsy from 20 years ago that I don’t know about and I apologize to whomever I’m leaving out, but I knew at least one off the top of my head, because they’re not that rare.

Now. About the other thing. I see a lot of people in YouTube comments saying they think it’s silly that all these people are pretending find Rosie Jones funny, just because they want to be nice to the disabled girl. Obviously that’s an awful thing to say, but I can kind of see why people would think that’s happening, if they genuinely don’t understand the words Rosie is saying, and they think everyone else must be similarly unable to understand her. Someone might truly think that, if it hasn’t occurred to them that other people have put in the fairly small amount of effort it takes to understand a style of speech they're not used to.

Because there’s no point in pretending it’s automatic for everyone. Some people are better at auditory processing than others, and some people will understand Rosie Jones easily on the first try. But personally, I did find it hard at first. And that’s exactly why it’s good that I kept listening to her until I found it easier. Because Rosie Jones is funny enough to be worth listening to even if it's slightly difficult. But more importantly, it mattered because people who talk like Rosie Jones exist in all parts of life and it’s nice if the people around them can comprehend their speech.

In 2016, I worked for a few years as a PSW for disabled people. A bunch of the clients had cerebral palsy, and almost all of them could speak at the same pace as I did and were easy to understand. But one of them spoke similarly to Rosie Jones. I got him breakfast every morning, he didn’t talk much, and when he did, I found it very hard to understand him. I tried my best, of course, because I hated making him repeat himself. But sometimes I had to, to make sure I knew what he was saying.

In 2020, I got really really into panel shows. Rosie Jones turned up on some of them, and I struggled to understand her speech. I used some of the tricks that I’d learned when working with the man in my PSW job, the most helpful one being to look at her lips when she was talking.

Over time, however, it got easier. The big change came when I watched The Last Leg, and they had her on a lot, a frequent guest for several years in a row. They also had on a lot of other disabled people (athletes and comedians), and some of those people had speech impairments, so I got used to hearing that style of speech even more. After a while, it was so familiar to me that I realized I'd stopped having to strain to understand it. I barely noticed that Rosie Jones was talking any differently from anyone else. I mean, I knew she was, but my brain processed it as easily as it did with any other speech. Like a regional accent. I didn’t need to turn on subtitles or look at her lips or run the video back to catch words that I’d missed anymore.

It's weird that this happened from watching a TV show, but didn’t happen when I had to interact in real life with a disabled person for my job. But I was only with that client for half an hour every morning, and he spoke for maybe two minutes. That just wasn’t enough exposure to the speaking style for me to get used to it enough to find it easy to understand. What I needed was a lockdown where I could spend all day every day for months watching hours and hours and hours of TV shows that frequently featured Rosie Jones.

Looking back, I realize it’s terrible that my client didn’t get care from PSWs who knew how to understand his speech easily. It should have been on me to work on that, to find videos on the internet of people who talked like him, watch them to practice understanding. On the other hand, I was working midnight to 8:30 AM five nights a week for a dollar over minimum wage and was exhausted all the time. The people who ran the agency where I worked hadn’t put any effort into training their staff on how to interact with people have different speaking styles (the stuff about looking at his lips when he talked was something I found by Googling on my own), and I'd argue that it should have been on them too.

In 2023, I worked for a few months as a facilitator in a day program for people with various disabilities. One of them had cerebral palsy, and spoke a bit like Rosie Jones, though with a more significant impairment (speech slower and more slurred). All the other staff in the program had a lot of trouble understanding him when he spoke; I was the only person who found it pretty easy. So most times, when he had something to say, the staff would direct him to me. It helped that I also know the sign language alphabet, something I memorized as a kid and just never forgot. He didn’t speak much sign language but he knew the alphabet and so did I, so when he really couldn’t enunciate well he’d just show me the first letter of the word he wanted and I could get it from context. I worked closely with him and got to know him pretty well because of this, which is cool because he was a great guy, and that was an awesome experience in an otherwise horrifically bad job (bad as in, after I left I helped a co-worker successfully sue the company for human trafficking). I still think about him often, I hope he’s doing okay with getting care from a terrible company that doesn’t bother making sure staff can understand him (like with the other job, I don’t think this should be on individual underpaid and overworked and occasionally human trafficked staff members, I think it should be on management to train, which this company did not).

But for the time I was there, that guy got better care than he would have otherwise, because I have watched hundreds of hours of The Last Leg. That is a very literal example of “representation matters”. There are all kinds of reasons why Rosie Jones being on TV is good disability representation, a big one that it’s great for people with cerebral palsy to see someone like themselves out there, but also, it’s good for an able-bodied person like me to hear the speech of a person with cerebral palsy for long enough to get used to it and find it easy to understand. That is good for the world in general, because if the world becomes more full of able-bodied people who can understand that kind of speech, then people with speech impediments are more likely to encounter people in real life who can understand them when they talk. A literal, tangible benefit to disability representation on TV.

I think some people in YouTube comments who ask “Why are all those people pretending to find Rosie Jones funny when they clearly can’t even understand what she’s saying?” are not necessarily being disingenuous, they may actually be unable to understand her and not have considered that it just takes a bit of effort and then gets easier. But it does get easier, and it doesn’t even take that long (I’m quite bad at auditory processing, so if I can do it then most people can, I bet it takes most people less time/effort than it took me).

Therefore, having Rosie Jones on Taskmaster is a good thing because a very large number of people all over the world watch that show, so that's lots of people who will spend lots of time listening to her talk and get used to the speaking style. That is of course not the main reason why it's good to have Rosie Jones on Taskmaster, the main reason is that she's funny. And it's definitely not the main reason why she is on Taskmaster. If it were all diversity and inclusion, then people with cerebral palsy would be proportionately represented on TV, which they're definitely not. The world is full of people with cerebral palsy who are not on Taskmaster, because they are not as funny as Rosie Jones, and/or because they did not get lucky enough to get around the many disability-related and non-disability-related barriers to entry in showbuisness. Rosie Jones is on Taskmaster because she's funny enough, and because she got lucky enough to get around the barriers to entry. That is the exactly same reason why every non-disabled Taskmaster contestant got on the show as well. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

(I wrote this post before the news was official and left it in my drafts to post after, but now that the news has broken, I'd like to add that I've read some YouTube comments on the lineup announcement, and I feel like my (possibly unfair) view of Jack Dee as someone who is not a favourite of the feminists - that view is certainly not dis-couraged by the fact that a whole lot of the predictable "Rosie Jones will ruin Taskmaster" comments are followed by the same person saying "But at least Jack Dee will be great".)

[multiplicity-positivity]

hello, host of the system that sent that first ask about not being sure about how normal is it to find out you're plural in your early 20s, joined by 3 alters; we've come to seek some advice/positivity/comfort/kindness in times of great stress. we recently came out to a friend who also is a system, but things didn't go well at all and they have cut us all off, not without being furious, unwelcoming and in disbelief beforehand. not going into details about the things that were said (and some of their anger was justified, for we didn't make ourselves known sooner out of fear of, unsurprisingly, this kind of outcome) but it has affected us greatly; i (the host) have been not entirely lucid and our co-host (the eldest alter and the only one who can understand the elusive trauma holder in our system) is nowhere to be seen; they have never been absent like this before, and we're afraid that the rage/disgust that was directed towards us has made them go dormant, because last time someone in our system went dormant (long before i was aware of these guys), they came out with no recollection of their first time here; only their exomemories remained. we're hurting badly, and scared that there is no place for us in the world, that the suffering/trauma i as a host have been through is not enough and that we're not safe at all for they could very well find this ask (although it's highly unlikely because they have gripes with plural spaces).

we apologize if it got wordy, we just want to feel safe after all this.

-🌙 (reviewed by 🐻, 🌀 and ❄)

hey, gosh, we are so incredibly sorry y’all had to go through something like this. it seems like y’all have a lot on your plate right now, and being rejected and cut off by a friend (and fellow system, no less!) must be incredibly painful. we truly are so sorry y’all are having to go through something like this.

we’d like to share with y’all a post we made fairly recently on dormancy, with a focus on coping with the temporary loss of a headmate.

your co-host likely will not be gone forever, but it makes sense to feel lost, confused, and hurt by their absence. we hope that y’all can try to have patience, grieve in whatever ways make you feel most comfortable, and try to just sit with your emotions for a while. it’s okay to feel sad. it’s okay to feel angry. there are no wrong emotions, and it makes sense to feel hurt and overwhelmed when a headmate goes dormant like this.

about your friend…

please know that you did nothing wrong by trying to come out to your friend about your system. in addition, you keeping your system from them for so long does not in any way justify their response to their anger. it can be incredibly dangerous and terrifying revealing your system to someone else, and that is private information that you do not owe anyone. as a system themself, they should understand this. but even if they don’t, that doesn’t make it less true. it is okay to keep your system a secret for as long as you need to in order to keep your system safe and comfortable. again, you do not owe anyone this information about yourself. your friend becoming angry due to you keeping your system hidden from them is fine - there are no bad emotions and we can’t control what feelings we have in the moment. what is not justifiable at all, in our opinion, was how they reacted by cutting y’all off and directing their rage and disgust towards y’all. in fact, choosing to react in that way to us seems hateful and unkind, and they obviously have some work they need to do in order to become a better person/system.

about your feelings regarding your trauma and place in this world…

please know that you belong in this world and in the plural community as you are - no changes necessary. you are so loved, and you absolutely belong here, no doubt about it. not everyone is going to be willing to accept you or your system for who y’all are, and ultimately, that’s on them for being closed-minded and unwilling to listen and understand. we truly hope that soon you will find your people, that soon you will find yourself surrounded by folks who love each and every member of your system and are happy to accept y’all for who y’all are. we mean this with every ounce of our strength.

many traumatized individuals worry that their trauma “wasn’t bad enough” or that “someone else has had it worse.” in disorders like did and osdd, the important factor that causes these disorders to form is repeated trauma in childhood that causes the child to dissociate regularly as a result. that’s it. there’s no set of traumas that are “bad enough” for these disorders to form. if a child regularly has to dissociate to cope, if they’re not receiving adequate support from a caregiver, if they’re having to rely on themselves for emotional processing… chances are, they may end up with a dissociative disorder. even something as minor as being given a brief time out can cause a child to dissociate if they’re already prone to dissociation and cannot reliably rely on their caregivers for support. so, please trust us when we say, yes, your trauma was enough. it was enough, and you never, ever should have had to suffer the way you did. even if you think it was minor… we don’t agree. no child should be traumatized. for a child with little to no support, there is no such thing as “minor trauma.” every trauma may seem huge and have a major impact on their lives, especially if they have to deal with the aftermath alone.

anon, we are wishing your whole system peace, rest, recovery, and self acceptance. please know that you’re not alone, and you are loved just the way you are. we will never doubt your system here, and you will always be welcome here on our blog and in the plural community as a whole. in fact, the plural community is made brighter and more vibrant due to your presence in it. your friend is really missing out by choosing to let go of your friendship due to your choice to be honest and vulnerable.

we hope this helps, even if it’s just a little bit. we’re sorry this got so long-winded. please don’t hesitate to reach out to us if there’s anything we can do to help y’all in the future. please take care of each other - we really are wishing y’all the best!

🐢 kip and 💫 parker

[jugheadvarchoni]

Ranking the Worst Riverdale relationships (romantic)

Just throwing it out there again, MY opinion here. A mix of boring, overrated ships, and genuinely toxic ones. If you disagree, that’s fine. This isn’t meant to hurt anyone’s feelings or belittle anyone else’s opinion.

5. Cheryl & Archie, Jughead & Ethel

I wanted to include this type of relationship, which is pairings that were never actually couples. I honestly can’t stand either of these. Both shared “kisses” that had very unromantic circumstances and were also just chemistry-less. Thank god the writers never persued either of these!

4. Hiram & Hermione

I can’t recall any moment of genuine love between them tbh. They were always trying to out-manipulate each other, cheating, trying to kill each other. In terms of the adult relationships, I think they’re the most toxic.

3. Archie & Grundy

I’m not even sure I want to ever consider this pedophilic shit a real relationship, but it deserves a spot on here regardless. It got… significant screentime, mostly painted in a bad light, but… Just horrific. Grundy deserved what she got maybe idk. Archie was FIFTEEN YEARS OLD, like?!?!?!

2. Betty & Jughead

Putting aside the fact that they got WAY too much focus in comparison to the other characters, I genuinely never felt that much chemistry. I know they were CRAZY popular tho, and something obviously struck a cord for a lot of people. I just wasn’t one of them lol. They never seemed stable imo, too many breakups and cheating and makeups. Which, you could argue is the case for a LOT of couples on the show, but for me, there is nothing good about them to counteract that. They were cute-ish in the beginning, but starting S2, I just kinda started dreading their scenes. So much time spent on them, so many other characters and ships suffered for THEM. Not only do I find them the most overrated ship on television, but too many BH fans I’ve interacted with were just toxic, in the worst of ways. To the point where other actresses were harassed horribly online. Terribly overused & boring ship, with too many terrible fans. I can’t even watch their scenes in S3/S4 specifically without rolling my eyes at some point.

1. Toni & Fangs

On the flip side, we have a ship that had a total of 5 fans. Choosing to make Toni & Fangs a couple because Vanessa & Drew are friends was their first mistake. That doesn’t mean they have romantic chemistry because these two certainly didn’t. Their second mistake was having them raise baby Anthony as a couple, when it was supposed to be Kevin & Fangs. Neither character grew when they were together. Their entire relationship hinged on Anthony, to the point where he was the only reason Toni proposed to Fangs. S6 is Toni’s worst season imo, and Fangs/Anthony is the main reason for that. Chemistry-less, pointless, intensely unpopular and unexciting. Terrible partners, terrible parents, toxic to the max. This ship was an absolute waste of space. If they wanted to give Toni a midgame ship on her way back to Cheryl, it should’ve been a new character, not Fangs. I’m still baffled that they wasted Toni for a season and half with this crap. Only to have Fangs (rightfully) share almost no scenes with Toni in S7 and for Anthony to just disappear haha. POINTLESS!