#i have specific people in mind who i expect to go UM ACTUALLY

[the-oblivious-writer]

Poison Ivy & Daisies

Clarisse La Rue x Demi-god!Reader

One-shot

Summary: Clarisse La Rue has been on your mind since the day you saw her, but because of your nervousness and her stand-offish attitude, you could never build up the courage to actually talk to her. At least, that was until you tripped on a rock

Warning(s): Swearing, mentions of r being clumsy, no pronouns used, & nervous/awkward!r

Notes: This is my first work for Clarisse. I'm still getting used to writing for her character, lemme know what you think

From the moment you stepped into camp, your mind has been plagued with thoughts of Clarisse La Rue—literally. The first time you saw her you thought you were looking at a princess. The person who was showing you around immediately warned you as soon as they noticed your longing stares.

You were then informed about Clairsse’s more… violent ways. You could care less. All you knew was that she was the most beautiful woman you have ever laid your eyes upon—but of course, you didn’t get the courage to talk to her until two months after you got to camp.

She was definitely stand-offish, that was evident. It wasn’t until you accidentally bumped into her that you finally spoke to her.

You were walking, not paying attention, when you suddenly tripped on a rock. You yelped as you tripped, but instead of meeting the ground like you expected, you bumped into someone. This person stumbled back a step before glaring at you, a glare so deadly you could feel it. 

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you caught sight of the person. Clarisse fucking La Rue. Just your luck. You gulped as you looked back at her. You opened your mouth to say something, but the sound failed to come out. 

“Watch where you’re going,” the Ares kid seethed with her fists balled up.

“R–right. Sorry, I didn’t see you,” you nervously apologized.

“Don’t let it happen again, or else,” she threatened before walking off. You were too busy wiping dirt off of your shirt to see Clarisse looking back at you one more time as she walked away.

The incident continuously haunted you. You finally get a chance to talk to your crush, and that is how it happens? 

The next time you saw her face to face was the following week. You were practicing your sword fighting when suddenly somebody approached the dummy near yours. You didn’t think much of it as you continued to focus on your swinging and slashing. 

“That’s my dummy,” you heard from beside you. You look over to see it was Clarisse who you heard. Any bit of confidence you had before instantly vanished.

“Your dummy?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Um, no—no you didn’t. I just—I just didn’t know.”

“And your slashing is pathetic,” Clarisse added before pushing you to the side. “You’re supposed to cross then stab. Not the other way around.” She rolled her eyes before demonstrating for you. After she showed you, she looked over to you again. “Are you just going to stand there? Repeat what I did.” 

You weren’t sure how, but from that point on you started going to daily practices with Clarisse. You’re still a little confused on the specifics. One moment, she seems repulsed by you, but the next, she was training you. She never outwardly said it, but daily training with Clarisse automatically became apart of both her and your routines. You weren’t complaining. 

—

Months and months of training led to this moment; capture the flag. You were surprised when Clarisse told you she wanted you on her team, usually people wanted the opposite. It didn’t take much convincing to get Annabeth on board. You couldn’t blame her; it’s not that you were bad at fighting, you just had the tendency to be clumsy at the worst times. 

Your job was simple—stick by Clarisse’s side. You missed the looks Clarisse’s half-siblings gave her when she revealed this part of the plan, and the glare she sent their way. 

You and Clarisse were crouched behind a tree, waiting for the right moment to act. While Clarisse’s eyes were busy surveilling the area, you were too busy admiring her in her armor. How could you not? It wasn’t until you felt something hit your chest armor, that you were pulled out of your trance. 

You looked down, startled, and saw that it was Clarisse who hit your chest armor. “Stay focused.” She said as she continued to look around.

“Right. Focused.” You cleared your throat, eyes following to where the other girl was staring. “You look really nice by the way. The armor suits you,” you complimented. You had no idea where the spur of confidence came from. All you knew was that Clarisse was gorgeous, and you hoped she knew it too.

The compliment caught her off guard. She had no idea as to why you said what you did, frankly it confused her. But before she could utter a word, she saw her teammates signal to her. Guess her response would have to wait.

—

After the incident—that being Percy breaking Clarisse’s spear, and then him being claimed by one of the big three—everybody made sure to steer clear of Clarisse. The scream she let out was a reminder of why. It has been awhile since anybody has seen her that enraged. The only person to not follow this unspoken rule was you. You knew enough to know how important that spear is to her, so you could imagine how infuriated, and upset she was to see it rip in half. 

You went to knock on her cabin’s door, but pulled your hand away when you noticed it was already open. You lightly pushed it open more before walking inside. Everybody else was gone, and it seemed like Clarisse was too until you caught sight of her sitting on the edge of her bed with both halves of her spear on her lap. She didn’t need to look up to see that it was you who walked in. 

“What are you doing here?” She inquired, not looking up from her broken spear. 

“I just wanted to check on you,” you responded in a painfully soft tone. 

“I’m fine.” Her tone was dry and monotone. You carefully got closer before sitting down beside her, and to your dismay, she didn’t tell you to go away. You watched as her thumb brushed against her spear’s handle. 

“Do you wanna talk about–”

“I don’t need your pity, nor your comfort,” Clarisse interrupted. 

“Right, sorry,” you responded as you nodded your head. You suddenly remembered what was in your back pocket. “Oh, I uh,” you pulled out a daisy from your back pocket. “I saw it and I just thought of you,” you shrugged as you held it for her to see.

“A daisy.” The flower's stem was a slightly bent, the pedals were a mess, yet it was still beautiful.

“Yeah—if it’s stupid I could just–”

“No!” Clarisse said louder than intended. She cleared her throat, “It’s fine, I mean.” Butterflies erupted in her stomach as she watched a smile graze your face. 

“Here,” your smile never faltered as you handed it to her. As she went to take it from your hand, her hand touched yours. The action caused heat to rush to the other's face.

“Thank you.” She averted her gaze, looking down at the daisy you handed her. “It’s… nice, I guess,” she uttered as she continued to study the flower.

“You welcome,” you replied as you looked at her admirably. “Sorry if it’s a bit messed up. It’s been in my back pocket for, like, a day.”

“It’s perfect.” Her words catch you off guard, a warm familiar feeling rushes through you—the same feeling you get when you think of the woman. 

“Perfect flower for a perfect girl,” you said with such fondness in your voice. Now it was your turn to catch Clarisse off guard with your words. She pulls her eyes away from the daisy to look at you. Nobody has ever called her perfect before, and she knew you meant it. 

Her eyes flickered down to your lips, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. It was just then that you realized how close your face was to hers. You both subconsciously begin to slowly lean in; “Can I kiss you?” You murmured. Instead of giving you a verbal response, her hand reaches up to softly cup your face before she leans in further. Her lips touches yours, sending electricity down your spine. Her lips were soft and welcoming as you kissed her back. 

But before the kiss could go any further, the cabin doors abruptly opened. Your lips tear away from hers as you both look over to see who was at the door. Of course, the person who happened to catch you and Clarisse kissing was an Aphrodite kid. You looked away with flushed cheeks while Clarisse tried as hard as she could to hide her embarrassed expression.

“What do you want?” She asked impatiently, her arms crossed.

With a smirk, the other camper responded. “I need Y/N’s help with something.” 

“Coming,” you managed to say. You got up to follow the camper, but not before looking back at Clarisse with a lovestruck expression. Clarisse could feel her heartbeat pick up as you made eye contact. When you left, she let out a sigh as she brushed back her hair.

No doubt this would be the talk of the camp by dinner. But for once, Clarisse didn’t mind.

-----------

A/N: Dior is actually so painfully gorgeous omg

[darkcircles4lyfe]

it's a story about hands (reprise)

Yeah, okay, today's the day.

I gave my blog that title for a reason, you know, and it has loomed over me for years because the hand motif is absolutely everywhere and you could go on about it forever.

Maybe that's something I'll never actually attempt to do, but this chapter, we reached a breaking point.

Before I continue, I need to give a big, big disclaimer: I do not have a physical disability, so I'm not able to speak about that from the standpoint of representation as a first-hand perspective. I have at least listened to enough disabled people to know that fictional characters who become amputees only to miraculously gain their limbs back is, um, a trope. Disabled people in general being "healed" is a conception we would really prefer to avoid here. Not to call people out, but I don't think we're giving enough space to acknowledge that.

I don’t feel comfortable making the judgement call about what should happen. I’m leaving that open. I also don't want to downplay people's emotional reactions. Honestly, I don't know if I can accurately define the line between acknowledging real pain vs. ableist pity. But I’d like to talk about the possibilities of what could happen. Other characters have definitely gotten permanent disabilities as a result of their hero work, or even just the side effects of their quirk. But, for better or worse, I don't think this case is really about representation. Not that Horikoshi won't do that justice. He might. What I'm saying is that's not his purpose for having Izuku lose his arms. It's meant to be symbolic, so we can explore what it means. The other thing I’m keeping in mind here is that Horikoshi is notorious for playing with our expectations, like, alllllll the time. I mean, just take a few chapters ago for a classic example. Eri appeared at the end, and we all assumed she was about to take some sort of action to save someone with her quirk. Then, immediately following, we were given an explanation for why that wouldn’t be happening. And now it’s clear he wanted to do that “fake out” not just as a silly cliffhanger prank, but specifically so we would know not to suspect that Eri could be the miraculous solution to Izuku’s loss of his arms. Rest assured, there is no easy way out of this.

The expectation at play in this particular instance is an old one. It’s very understated, but its subtext has burned so brightly, you’d be a fool not to notice it. It sits with anticipation like one half of a call and response. Man, I was so certain. Lots of people still are. I was really looking forward to printing the panel where it happened onto a t shirt and wearing it proudly. All the hand motifs in this story radiate thematically from a single moment, the one that started it all for Izuku.

It raises all kinds of questions about the act of saving, who needs saving, why, what does it mean, what are the dynamics of power, politics, honesty, exploitation, compassion, pity, disdain, sacrifice. Katsuki has dealt with many of these since he first rejected Izuku’s hand. While Izuku was the one who was convinced Katsuki would keep on rejecting him…

…Katsuki was the one who kept that moment in his mind all these years and eventually came to regret it.

Katsuki is the one yearning for that hand-hold, the one who has imbued it with so much more weight than it ever originally had. Izuku, in contrast, does not allow himself to dwell on what he wants. To illustrate this difference, we need to look at another piece of foreshadowing:

Ugh, do y'all remember when lots of folks were complaining about how there never seemed to be actual consequences for Izuku's destructive treatment of his own body? I don't blame them, I was concerned and confused about it too. There were several "fixes" along the way. Recovery Girl healed him, but left a physical reminder. Then he started training to fight with his legs… sometimes. Then he got support items. All of these were unsatisfying non-conclusions because they didn't present Izuku with a lasting enough impression to change in a meaningful way. They didn't address his core, his origin.

Of course, that all changed this chapter. Now it looks like our frustration was inflicted intentionally. With the current context in mind, all of these moments look more sinister, like this day was always gonna come because they kept putting bandaids on a deep emotional and psychological wound. The problem is pretty much spelled out for us here:

As Katsuki put it, he just doesn’t take himself into account, ya know? He doesn’t care what happens to him. And he lies about it, to keep others from worrying, to keep them safe. To keep them from returning the favor and putting themselves in harm’s way for his sake. His motivations are noble,

…but what about the little boy inside Izuku? Who saves him?

This is all about Izuku giving himself up to the point that he literally has no more to give. The thing is, I bet he saw this coming. He knew his limits and decided to keep going anyway, because his personal safety and wellbeing are not important. Now that way of thinking has come back to bite him because the fight isn’t over yet, and he’s already made his sacrifice. So now we know who will be more distraught over this. Not Izuku—Katsuki.

It’s not about Izuku becoming disabled, it’s about how Katsuki wanted to use the intertwining of their fingers to communicate that he would never let go. Never stop valuing him most. Never let himself make the mistake of rejecting him again. Never let Izuku be so reckless with his life. To say: “we are in this together.”…if only Katsuki believed he deserved to be able to say such things. To reach out his hand would have been the ultimate way to simply imply them and let Izuku be the one to decide. Then, to feel their hands clasped together would be more than either of them dared hope for, but so beautiful, so right. A moment they’ve waited their whole lives for.

Yeah. That’s what we were expecting. We’ve been so comfortable. Horikoshi gave us all the signs. He tempted and teased us over and over. BUT. You know he does this thing were he gives us a desirable, completely plausible and simple thing to look forward to, and then he snatches it away. And THEN he replaces it with something much better, something we were not expecting at all because it seemed too good to be true. That’s exactly what happened when Himiko snatched Izuku away, and we were robbed of the chance to see him and Katsuki fight together. In hindsight, though, I’m glad things went a different way because now there’s so much more depth and angst on display. Likewise, in the present moment, we may consider how, as one door closes, another opens.

As wonderfully meaningful as the hand-hold would have been, perhaps it is still too simple a resolution for Izuku, for his and Katsuki’s relationship. Tbh, it could have been done like 100 chapter ago. At this point, there’s so much more potential. There are a couple of ways it could go. If Izuku stays armless, Katsuki will be forced to use other methods to get his point across. He’ll have to do something else, or say what he means, or both. Yes, I’m talking about what you think I’m talking about. If I say it, I just might jinx it (lol), but I mean it. I’m being serious. Either way, if Izuku did get his arms back in the end, I’m sure that it wouldn’t be an easy fix. It would be hard-won against Izuku’s self-destructive mindset, and/or by Katsuki’s conviction. Again, I say this knowing it is not meant so much as a representation of disability, but as a representation of Izuku’s greatest character flaw taken to the extreme. I know this might sound harsh, like, hasn’t he been through enough? I get that, but… I’ve said it before and I say it again: Izuku is stubborn as hell.

I wish I had a resounding final note to end this on, but I kinda don’t. I’m not sure what’s best. Now we just have to wait and see what Horikoshi has in mind.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

okay some people genuinely really need to accept that the ONLY "queer coding" in saiki k is when they make gay jokes. there is NO other intentional queer coding, and i think people dont understand that claiming rep where it isnt there is much much more harmful than you think it is... just headcanon! its fun! you guys act like youre going to fucking die if you ship/hc something not canon, so you convince everyone that everything you say is canon ☠️ its literally insane

theres a HUGE difference between a headcanon or ship having what YOU see as canon backing, and a hc or ship that is actually implied or canon...

the only ship that you could argue is implied in saiki k is terusai, thats literally it, you could potentially make an argument that yumekai could be reciprocated towards the end, satoumiya, or MAYBE mikosai, but im pretty sure thats it...

nonbinary saiki is one of my personal favorite headcanons (one of the only ones i pretty much ALWAYS have in mind when talking or writing about him, it's practically a given) and i think it has pretty good canon backing, but its not ACTUALLY implied.

hes FAIRLY certain that his biological sex is male, and all evidence points to that, but he doesnt know and specifically says that he doesnt know what his true gender is... he clearly has absolutely zero discomfort with masculinity OR femininity, doesnt know or care about his gender, and is comfortable with either sex... he seems very happy to just be either...

seems like pretty solid evidence, but you also have to realize that there is literally zero chance that the author intended for saiki to be read as nonbinary, or trans in any way, this was literally just an excuse for plot and to have a reason to take advantage of his shapeshifting to do crossdressing/genderbend chapters ☠️ i love to see it as him being nonbinary and i think it has a lot of backing, but its not canon or even "implied" at all.

theres a lot of other examples of this kind of thing in this fandom, like theres a lot of people who claim that kubokai are queer coded (its usually just a joke when people say things like "hehe my ship is so canon" but im talking about like... people who see yumekai and go "um 🤨 this is LITERALLY homophobic because erm um kubokai are basically canon and queer coded and you shipping one of them with a WOMAN is HOMOPHOBIC" lmfao) and i am actually just not even sure where this comes from because they dont have anything that can even be twisted into romantic subtext, theyre just a popular ship because they have a good friendship. which is great! but theyre like the LAST thing i wouldve expected people to claim as implied or canon. they are absolutely not. the only thing i can even think of that might make people think that is saiki saying they look gay in that one chapter ☠️

[sweetspidergirl]

A Tangled Web (Spider HRT Story)

Chapter 1

“This is stupid. Why am I doing this?”

This question echoed in my head as I sat in the sterile waiting room of the doctor's office, accompanied by the sound of the clock ticking away in the background. Besides me and the receptionist behind the counter, there was no one else in the room. That made sense. With it being a few days before Christmas, who would willingly want to spend any amount of that time in such a depressing location?

A twenty-five year old woman dissatisfied with her life and seeking a new one, apparently.

As I sat there waiting for permission to see the doctor, my mind drifted back to how I got here. It was half a year ago where I first vented frustration over my life to my best friend Elisa, and she mentioned how I might be going through species dysphoria. She then sent me some articles and links and suggested I look into humanity removal therapy, or HRT.

I had been vaguely aware of humanity removal therapy, often referred to as therian HRT, for a few months by that point. It functioned mostly like hormone replacement therapy, only it would gradually change the patient into a human/animal hybrid, or therian. It was a recent development, only having been available to the public for a little over five years, and still had quite a bit of controversy associated with it from various political groups. Despite that, based on the testimonials I read and the various pictures I saw, the people who have gone through therian HRT seemed to be happier now than they ever had as humans. Maybe it would be worth it if I gave the whole thing a shot. Maybe being in another body might help me be happy again.

I glanced down at the blank screen of my phone, looking over myself in annoyance. I noted the long, messy brown hair that I barely made look presentable. I noted the pale skin caused by a lack of social interaction and preferring the light of a screen over the sun. I noted the oval-shaped glasses and casual hoodie and sweatpants that hid as much of me as possible. I was another drop of water in the ocean that was humanity. Even my blue eyes, once bright and full of hope, had started to appear dim and non-descript as of late.

“Taylor Thompson?”

I snapped out of my thoughts as the doctor called my name. Turning my head in his direction, I got a good look at the man who would be deciding my future. He was an older gentleman, probably in his 50s or 60s, with a grey receding hairline and mustache. His thick, round glasses made it hard for me to see his eyes. Grabbing my belongings, I quietly followed the doctor as he guided me to his office. The office was what I expected to see: a small, plain white room with a desk, degrees on the wall, and bookshelves full of books that I would be too dumb to properly understand. On the desk was a small nameplate that read “Dr. T. H. Erian, Species Dysphoria Specialist” in large, clean letters. I set my bag beside me and took my seat, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. I swallowed the lump of anxiety that was forming in my throat. There was no turning back now.

“So, Miss Thompson, what brings you here today?” Dr. Erian asked in a stern voice. One sentence in and I was already having flashbacks to my high school principal. The main difference here, however, was that my answers actually mattered for more than avoiding detention.

“I, um, was hoping to be prescribed therian HRT. Specifically spider HRT.” I answered, trying to remain calm and collected.

“I see… and why a spider, if I may ask?” The doctor questioned as he began writing something on a piece of paper in front of him.

“Well, I think spiders are a lot like me. Most people are scared of them, but in reality they’re mostly just nervous, adorable little beans.” I explained with a bit of blush on my face.

“Any preferred species of spiders?”

“I was hoping to be a tarantula. They're cute and fluffy, and I think I'd look just as good as one.”

“May I ask why you wish to undergo humanity removal therapy?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I've been unhappy with myself lately. My diet's been awful, I rarely go outside and interact, and in general I just hate everything about myself. My best friend, Elisa Andrews, thinks I might be going through species dysphoria. She works with therians and otherkin daily, so I assume she's right.” I explained to Dr. Erian. I then handed him a folder that contained the paperwork Elisa told me I'd need before being prescribed therian HRT: a medical examination, two psychological evaluations, written support from her and my father. I even spiced the folder up with doodles of webs and cartoon spiders in hopes that it would help my case.

Dr. Erian looked through the paperwork I gave him. I was unable to get a good idea of what he was thinking. His flat, emotionless voice was hard to read, and thanks to those glasses I couldn't tell whether he was impressed by work or annoyed at me wasting his time. I was hoping it was the former.

“Miss Thompson, before we continue, I'd like to ask an important question.” Dr. Erian spoke as he set the folder down in front of him on the desk. “How much do you know about therians?”

“How much do I know?” I asked curiously. “I mean, my best friend’s a physical therapist that works with therians, and I'm kinda aware of some of the legislature that's been passed recently-”

“That's not what I am referring to.” Dr. Erian interrupted. “I want to know if you understand what therians go through, what the process of going through humanity removal therapy is like and how you'll have to adapt. You are aware that I recommend patients spend some time living as their desired species before I prescribe them HRT, correct?”

“I-I mean… if it helps I have a few spider plushies.” I said sheepishly. I could already feel my luck running out.

Dr. Erian sighed and gently rubbed at his forehead before speaking again. “Miss Thompson, this is a serious life-changing procedure. Once you start therian HRT, your DNA will be rewritten to match your chosen species. You'll never be human again, even if you stop early into your therapy. I cannot prescribe it to just anyone who steps foot into my office.”

I sunk into my seat slightly, bringing my knees just under my chin as I almost curled up to feel safe and protected. “B-but… I was told you can help people with this kind of stuff.”

“I can, and I do. However, not everyone needs HRT. What you may think is species dysphoria could very well just be depression, and what you may need is something far simpler than a complete genetic rewrite.” The doctor explained.

I sat there in silence, barely listening to the doctor's words. He was saying so much when it all boiled down to one word: “no.” No, I couldn't get humanity removal treatment. No, I couldn't have happiness. No, I was doomed to hate myself for the rest of my miserable life. Tears started to creep their way out of my eyes, stinging slightly as they worked their way down my cheeks.

Just as I was about ready to give up and head home, I glanced up and noticed Dr. Erian looking through my papers once more. I was expecting him to scold me again. I hid my face against my knees and closed my eyes, bracing myself for his harsh words to wound my heart further.

“...are you sure becoming a tarantula will make you happy?”

I slowly brought my eyes up to look at Dr. Erian, not fully emerging from my self-made cocoon as I processed his question. What was making him change his mind? Did he believe that I'm suffering from species dysphoria after all, or was he simply taking pity on me? Regardless of the answer, I couldn't let this opportunity slip by my fingers.

“Y-yes… yes it will, doctor.” I responded, almost forcing myself to do so. A tense silence hung in the air for what felt like hours as Dr. Erian stared at me, almost examining me. I gripped the sides of my legs, waiting anxiously for either him to continue lecturing me or for me to have the courage to speak again.

“Well, if that is your answer, then I will approve you for tarantula HRT.” Dr. Erian said, writing on the piece of paper some more. “Considering it's the holiday season, it's likely your pharmacy won't receive your first dosage until after the new year, though.��

My heart almost skipped a beat at the news. I was… actually going to be a tarantula?! “Wait, really? You're… approving me for the HRT?” I asked, nearly jumping out of my seat. “Oh thank you Doc! Thank you very, very much!”

Dr. Erian sighed, writing some more information down on the paper. “As I explained, transitioning to a different species won't be easy. There will be some side effects to expect as your body changes.” He explained, making sure I had calmed down a bit before he continued. “Not all therians will experience the same side effects. Not all side effects will be present at once. Some will show up at different stages of your transition. At the earliest stages of spider HRT, I would primarily expect to see itchy skin as your hair grows in, as well as weight gain to provide material for your additional body parts to develop. Beyond that, you may experience headaches, nausea, dizziness, fatigue, and possible body pain.”

After making sure I understood the side effects I might encounter during my transition, Dr. Erian started digging through a drawer in his desk, and from there pulled out two items. The first was a pamphlet that had “Welcome to your Humanity Removal Therapy” written on the cover, alongside “Species: Spider” and a minimalist illustration of him. “This pamphlet will help guide you through your transition, Miss Thompson. It provides details on a recommended meal plan, the type of environment you should live in, a rough timeline of what changes you should expect and when you should expect them, a full list of potential side effects, and more.” The doctor explained. “I would make sure to give this a thorough read if I were you. I'll also be sending you a digital copy after our meeting. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me and I will provide an answer at the earliest convenience.”

I took the pamphlet in my hands, almost crushing it in excitement. “Of course Doc. I'll definitely give it a read once I get home.”

Just as I was about to get up and leave, Dr. Erian cleared his throat. “There is one other thing I must discuss with you before we conclude here, Miss Thompson.” He said, causing me to sit back down in my seat. “I still disapprove of you not doing any research on therian culture prior to our meeting. So… I'd like for you to interact with other therians while you're taking HRT. It's not mandatory, but I do feel it will not only help you learn about your new lifestyle but also potentially help with your mood.”

As Dr. Erian said that, he handed another item. I took it in my hands and looked it over. Instead of another pamphlet, it was a flyer detailing a therian support group that was close to where I lived. It detailed that it was bi-weekly, and that it was open to those on HRT, regardless of stage, as well as those questioning.

“I'll keep that all in mind. Thank you so much for all of this, Doc.” I said, stuffing the papers in my bag. After discussing insurance and other important information to get my prescription set in stone, I left the office and gave a heavy exhale as soon as I was outside. That was probably the most stressful talk I've ever had, but it was done and over with. While I stood outside and caught my breath, my phone started buzzing. Pulling it out, I saw that I was getting a call from Elisa.

“So, how'd it go?” Elisa asked, sounding exceedingly curious. Looking at the time on my phone, I hadn't realized she had just finished with work by the time I finished my meeting.

“Well, I managed to get the prescription, so that's good. You didn't tell me he was gonna be so scary though.” I answered back with a tiny bit of irritation in my voice.

“Hey I never met the guy personally. Besides, you still got the HRT in the end, so it all worked out.” Elisa answered back. “So how long before you start spinning webs and crawling up walls?”

“Well, my first dosage won't arrive until after the new year. Beyond that, well…” I trailed off a bit, glancing back at my bag and the papers inside of it. “I have some homework to do.”

---

NEXT:

Welcome everyone! This is the start of a (hopefully) long-term project I intend to work on. This is the story of Taylor Thompson, a 25-year-old woman seeking a change in life through humanity removal therapy. In the process of transitioning from human to spider, she'll learn more about the world of therians, as well as learn more about herself and what she wants out of life.

I want to thank @ayviedoesthings, @welldrawnfish, @entroart, @bubbleverseart, @nyxisart, @prettiestplatypus, @deadeyedfae, @kaylasartwork, and anyone else I may have forgotten (there's a lot of people I'm so sorry ><) for creating the world of therian HRT and creating such a community, as well as my fiancé for showing them to me and for inspiring me to give my own version a try. I can't say when the second chapter will be done, so just keep your eyes open, and I hope you all will join me on this long, wild ride.

Thank you so much in advance.

[20dollarlolita]

Did you hear about joannes going bankrupt? Do you have any thoughts on that?

(Quick note so no one um actually's me: I'm aware that not all bankruptcy is Chapter 11. Thank you)

As a crafter, I'll say: oh dear, that's going to make shopping harder.

As a person who was aware of the insides of how that company was running, I'm going to say, "about fucking time."

See, here's what was happening with Joann. Problem #1 was that they stopped taking the "you have to spend money to make money," mentality and applying it to labor. A store is not about the products or the customers. The life of a store, the thing that keeps it beating, is the employees who serve the customer and serve the corporate ownership.

When they first started notably cutting labor, the store did have a lot of driven, passionate people who were willing to pick up the slack. It's possible to cut the freight shift one night a week when you have daytime floor associates who can do the freight when there's no customers immediately needing help. You can expect store managers to clean and recover the store, because it's a task that keeps them free to disconnect from when a store needs a manager to be acting as a manager. You can expect any free employee to fill in at the register or cut counter to cover a break or a lunch or fill in during a high-customer time. The store had a lot of employees who didn't mind doing some multitasking, and didn't mind being completely busy from the start of the shift until the very end.

However, when these labor cuts proved to be an effective way to save the store money, the amount of multitasking, and the amount of expecting one shift to cover for cuts made to another shift, started going up. It was no longer cutting the freight shift one day a week. It was cutting the freight shift until it was ONLY one day a week.

And that's where they made the big mistake in labor load. Instead of, "serve the customers, and do these tasks when you have time," it became, "do the task, and serve the customers if they demand your attention." A store is not the customers; it's the people who work in the store. But one of the key players in a retail store's staffing is the employees for whom making the customers happy is their primary drive. The way that stores were staffed, people whose primary drive was to serve customers were not allowed to adequately do so to reach customer satisfaction.

We need to add to this that, in addition to demanding more from every employee, Joann corporate has several of their demands on employees to be automatically measured. Customer response surveys, ship-from-store fulfillment, buy online pickup in store response times, number of remnants that were rolled to be sold, all of that can be sent to corporate with a pass/fail number assigned to it. Other elements of the store, like how much freight from a box actually makes it onto the shelf on time, or if a wheelchair can navigate the store, are not measured. This means that the company prescribes which tasks will actually be done and which can be shoved in the back for later. With the work load that was being put on employees, corporate decided that the ONLY tasks that should get done are ones that have specific metrics tied to them.

Employees whose drive is to help customer, who are not permitted to help the customers asking for help, will quit and go to a place where customers actually come first. Employees who are okay with doing two people's jobs, but who are asked to do three jobs, will leave to a place where they only have to do one job. Employees who have worked for the company for 4 years and never received a raise despite being praised for excellent work will go to a job where they get paid more. And suddenly, the only people who are left are the people who aren't overworked, because they're the people who will only do one job no matter how much demanding corporate has for them.

The last two years that I was at Joann, there were tons of employees asking or begging for more hours. It was not that they couldn't hire people. It's that they wouldn't assign labor hours. Employees who would happily work 35-40 hours a week, but who are assigned three hours a week, will leave and find a job where they can get a consistent number of hours. When they made all floor managers part time, a lot of people who had been with the company for years left to get more hours or some health insurance.

But, despite all of this, corporate never said, "if we put more people on the floor, our customers will be happier, and will spend more money." They still continued to treat labor as an unnecessary expense that should be limited. Why put more people on the floor when you can just overwork the people who bothered to show up for work today?

So, weirdly enough, that business model was absolutely not working for them, and it's all come crashing down. Damn right, as it should be. Respect the people who work for you, and they'll work for you. Take away the things that they're there to do, and they'll go somewhere else. Simple math.

Also, in the last decade, the fact is that, "Joann has a lot of coupons, so I can save money!" changed in the eye of the public into, "Joann is overpriced unless you know how to play the coupon game."

So yeah. I'm not surprised, and I hope their restructuring does good things for the employees who work there. Hell knows they need it, because their current system just proved that it cannot survive in that state.

[moralesmilesanhour]

what you're searching for.

summary: Margo goes to a shitty poetry slam and gets more out of it than she expects. wc: 4.9k warnings: alcohol consumption, and it's like very VERY lightly implied that they had an Adult Sleepover if you get my meaning. Nothing really too suggestive in here I promise. One singular reference to a tiktok. a/n: this took me a whole ass week but I'm very proud of where my writing style is going! somewhat inspired by the film 'Love Jones'. If you enjoyed this pls feel free to leave your thoughts or your favorite line if you have one! EDIT: OH MY GOD I FORGOT TO ADD: the first poem is actually taken from the Junior novel 'Miles Morales: Suspended' by Jason Reynolds! The poem at the end is mine though lmao I'm not the best poet

Margo can’t stand poetry.

Someone gets up in front of you with a piece of paper clutched in their hands, and recites what is simultaneously the most vague and the most painfully obvious string of fragmented sentences you’ve ever heard as if they’d just touched your soul.

It’s not rapping, not preaching, but the ugly middle child standing between them. Some odd bastardization of music for people who thought they were too smart for either of the first two, but weren't brave enough to just give speeches.

Speeches, at least, are coherent, specific, and can be scrutinized.

So far, sitting in the front row of the bar that her classmate Zoe had invited her to for poetry night, no one has changed her mind. 

Tonight’s performances consisted of an assembly line of men (and a couple of women) in vintage sweaters ranting about their exes to the rhythm of bongo drums, or some mildly relevant social issue that none had the lexicon to really say anything in stanzas that hasn’t already been said. She had heard nothing yet that sounded much more profound than an Instagram post.

Although, one girl had come up and recited a short poem about her late mother that Margo thought was quite sweet, and the least tortuous to sit through.

The crowd erupted in snaps again for a poet with long braided dreads and an ankh tattoo whose words she had tuned out. The host took the mic and announced the final (thank god) participant:

“Now this next one I had to practically drag over here to get him to share his beautiful poetry with us tonight. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to one of my close friends and colleagues, Miles Morales!”

A lanky young man–Margo suspects about six feet even, given the way he’s towering over the host–awkwardly shuffles over to the center of the stage, offering the crowd a tight-lipped smile. 

He’s in a plain green sweater with the sleeves hastily rolled up to his elbows and a bomber jacket tied around his waist. As soon as he’s handed the microphone, it seems to dawn on him that there’s no turning back, and his body visibly tenses. 

He clearly just got here, and for once Margo doesn’t know what to expect.

Squinting beneath the bright spotlight, he clears his throat and speaks into the mic. 

“Um, hi.”

A few scattered ‘hi’s from the crowd.

There’s something bright and sweet in the tone of his voice that makes him sound a little boyish, and she wonders what he could possibly have under his sleeve that warranted him getting dragged up here last minute.

He takes a deep breath.

“It’s said

That nobody

Is ever more

Than ten feet

From a spider.”

Miles began the poem carefully, like he was confessing something. 

“They be everywhere you and me are.”

A few members of the crowd laugh, others shudder at the thought and frown. 

“And even though

We see them only

When they big enough to see, or when

They move,

Like a cursor

Across the blank white

Page of a wall…”

His voice loses some of its airiness in exchange for confidence as he recites the rest of the poem, and Margo realizes that he isn’t reading off of anything. 

Either he’s improvising, or he has it entirely memorized.

“Or when we trip

The web-like wire

Of a booby trap

Or when they

Fang our flesh

We should probably

Assume most

Just be right there…”

Miles paused and looked somewhere far beyond the crowd, lifting his arm to point to the back of the room. Then he repeated:

“Right there,

Right here,”

He gestures toward the front row, where his eyes land directly on Margo. It’s not so close to the stage that she can tell for sure, but she thinks she sees a hint of a smile cross his lips.

“Looking at us,

Looking over them.”

Silence. 

His arm falls limply to his side as his eyes frantically scan the audience, searching for some kind of response. 

Then, someone begins to clap. Then another. Then another. WIthin moments, the entire room erupts in applause, causing a shy smile to spread across the young man’s face.

“Uh, thank you!” he says, surprised at the positive reception, before shrinking into himself again and leaving the stage the same way he came.

The host returns and takes the mic from him.

“Miles Morales, everybody!”

-

After the poetry slam, Margo insisted that Zoe take her to the sushi place across the street. It had a bar sitting off to the side, one with significantly less poets. The decorative lights hung directly above the shelf filled with glass bottles and shrouded them in cherry red.

Zoe takes a sip of her sherry and leans in.

“Sooo, how was it?”

“It was a’ight.”

The light-skinned girl’s lips pull into a pout. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I told you poetry wasn’t my thing,” Margo pauses, then amends, “I liked the last guy, though. Breath of fuckin’ fresh air.”

“Right? His style really caught my attention, subtle.”

“Glad you liked it.”

Zoe’s eyes widened as she glanced just beyond Margo’s shoulder.

When Margo turned towards the familiar voice and froze. 

The poet in question was standing just inches away, a friendly smile gracing his features. His jacket is no longer around his waist, neatly folded over his arm like an expensive coat. He is with the excitable darker-skinned man who’d just hosted the event, and a man the shade of sandalwood standing just behind him.

They’re both wearing the same type of muted cardigan as Miles, but they’ve got actual coats.

“Y’all were in the front, right?” Miles asks the both of them, though he’s only looking at Margo.

She nods wordlessly. Zoe picks up the slack.

“M-hm, you were great up there! You’ve really never shown anyone your work ‘till tonight?”

Miles snorts at the wording of the phrase. ��His work’.

“I wrote that poem in high school,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, but my roommate…” 

He gives the dark-skinned man a dirty look. 

“...swiped my journal and found it. Told me I should read it out loud somewhere.”

Margo examines Miles’ face and imagines him as a baby-faced high-schooler, sitting in the back of the classroom with a protective arm around the beat-up red composition notebook he’s writing in. He stuffs it in his bag as soon as he’s done, because he has just poured his heart out onto that page, and his crush’s name is in there. Maybe there are tiny doodles of her in the margins.

“Yo,” the sandalwood-colored man claps Miles on the shoulder. “We about to hit up Tiff’s place, you coming?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Miles nods dismissively. “I’ll catch up with y’all.”

The two other men give each other a knowing look before brushing past him.

“Alright man, catch you later then.”

Once she finally regains the ability to speak, Margo remarks, “You were the only performance I really liked, if I’m being honest.”

“Is that so?” 

“Oh yeah, this one hates poetry,” Zoe places a hand on Margo’s shoulder and laughs. “Tried to change her mind by bringing her over here, but no dice.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What made mine so different?”

“Hm, I dunno…” Margo’s eyes float over his form before making their way back up to his face. “Your delivery, I guess.”

Safe to say, he looks amusedly unconvinced.

“My…delivery.”

She catches herself and quickly adds, “I-I mean, it also kinda felt like everyone else was trying too hard. So.”

He tilts his head at the remark.

“Are you just saying that to flatter me?”

.“I don’t flatter people. Too close to lying.”

“That sounds like half a poem already. Maybe you should go up there next week.”

She gives him a lopsided smile.

“Only if you’re there. I need something to actually look forward to.”

His tongue darts out and passes over his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“Margo.”

Miles hums, softly repeating the name before inching his way over to the counter where he leans his hip on it.

“Pretty. Can I buy you a drink, Margo?”

She doesn’t think her name is all that pretty, but he makes it sound that way.

“Knock yourself out.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Zoe teases as she rises from her seat. “I’m gonna go order us some sushi.”

Miles takes the stool to Margo’s left as he waits on their drinks, his long legs never needing to leave the ground to do so.

He has a funny way of sitting, hands folded neatly in front of him with his back just a few degrees off from being perfectly straight. As if you needed to look distinguished at a sushi bar.

Church boy, Margo guessed. That, or his daddy’s a military man.

It’s adorable either way.

“You in school?” she asked.

“Yup. Princeton.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Oh shit, me too! I’ve never seen you on campus, though. What’s your major?”

“Physics. You?”

“Comp Sci. Been coding since I was in middle school, so…”

Margo remembers the echoing ‘click-clack’ of her keyboard as she sat in an empty computer lab for hours on end after school because she preferred it to her parents’ house.

The bartender hands Miles two glasses of white wine, and he sets the second glass in front of Margo, his warm eyes still focused on her. 

She’s intrigued by how clear they are - no trace of suspicion or calculation behind them. Just the warmth.

“So, where you from? My folks are over in Brooklyn.”

“Georgia.”

Miles’ brows jump to his hairline.

“Damn. What brought you all the way up here?”

To get as far away as possible. 

“Well, it’s Princeton,” she says beneath a forced laugh.

“Yeah, but you got, like, eight different HBCUs over there. How’d Princeton win you over?”

Margo breaks eye contact to stare into her drink.

“Needed a change of pace.”

When she looks up to gauge Miles’ reaction, skepticism is written all over his face. But he doesn’t push it further.

“That’s fair. Princeton’s got a cutting-edge quantum physics program that I’m aiming for. Had to beg my parents to come here,” he grins proudly, “but here I am.”

Margo is silent for a moment.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks suddenly, beckoning Miles to lean in.

“Yeah?”

Grinning, she half-whispers, “I’m actually here on a scholarship.”

He gives her an odd look. 

“Why’d you say it like that? Nothin’ wrong with getting a full ride. The opposite, actually.”

“Some people might feel otherwise. You’re like, the second person I’ve told other than my parents.”

“And why me?” Miles chuckles. “My poetry was just that good?”

“I just…Hm.”

Margo leans back and takes a contemplative sip of her wine, watching him over the rim of her glass. 

Why did she just tell him that?

“I guess I just sorta felt like telling you.”

Margo cautiously sets the wine back down. She figures if she’s not careful, he’ll have her full government name and social security number by the end of the night.

“Y’know, I actually get that a lot,” Miles laughs. “One time, I had this lady I was standing in line with at Target turn around and just start telling me stories about her dead son and how much she misses him. And it’s like, I’m sorry for your loss, but we’re in Target right now and I literally do not know you.”

“Wait, people just go up to you and…tell you shit?”

“Yup. There was this other time at church, too. Just as service ends and I’m about to get up and leave, this short old dude–Dominican, I think–stops me and starts telling me about his entire life. I’m talking start to finish! Apparently I reminded him of his nephew that died in the military or something.”

“Jesus.”

A crease forms between Margo’s brows. She wishes she could say she didn’t understand the old man at church or the lady at Target, but she does. No, it’s not the poetry. It’s got nothing to do with words. 

It’s the way that Miles looks at people. 

Like he already knows all of your secrets, but you’re not worried because they’re safe with him, so might as well tell them. It’s a merciful sort of gaze; you get the impression that he won’t judge you. You might even tell him more after his friendly ‘boy-next-door’ voice coaxes them out of you. The thought unsettles her because she had done just that.

“You ever had a girlfriend before?” She asks, all of a sudden.

Miles shrugs, “Yeah, in tenth grade, then again freshman year. Didn’t really work out.”

“Why not?”

His brows furrow gently for just a second, as if he’s still trying to figure out the answer to that.

“I…don’t know, actually. It goes well the first few months and then…”

“It fizzles out?”

“I get ghosted. Something about how they’re ‘not ready’. Understandable, I guess, but you don’t have to ghost me, y’know?”

He awkwardly examines his fingers, then his glass. 

Margo feels a bit guilty for suddenly bringing up his exes when they’d just met. Would they end up the same way? She saw herself there too, being in a relationship for six months before his weird pastor’s eyes get to be a bit too much and she takes off.

“Yikes, sorry I asked.”

“It’s no problem,” a smile starts to return to his face. “Onto better things, right?”

“Right.”

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“You ever been in a relationship before?”

Margo smiles awkwardly and messes with one of her fingernails.

“Well…not exactly.”

Miles’ eyes widen.

“Never?”

“I mean, guys offer, and then we talk for a little bit, but then…”

“They flake out on you.”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn shame,” he says with a bit of sharpness to his voice. “Not even a first date?”

“Nope, just ‘Read at 4:15’.”

“You know what I think it is?”

Just as he asks this, his knee brushes against her thigh. Margo isn’t sure if it’s an accident, but it distracts her nonetheless.

“What?”

“You’re too smart for them, I can tell. It scares ‘em.” But it doesn’t scare me, is the suggestion.

He smiles then, the kind that shows the whiteness of his teeth on every vowel. It’s wide enough that a dimple comes out of hiding on his left cheek, and she suddenly wants to tell him everything again. She takes another sip of wine.

“So! What’d I miss?”

Zoe finally returns from ordering their sushi at the front with an expectant grin. Miles still hasn’t taken his eyes off of her friend, while she is staring at him like a string of code, which, if you know Margo, is better than nothing.

“You didn’t miss much,” says Margo. “We were just talkin’ about our majors. School stuff.”

Miles checks his phone and lets out a low whistle.

“Well, it was lovely meeting y’all, but I gotta bounce. After getting dragged onstage, I get to be dragged over to a house party, too.”

Just as he rises from his seat, he stops and points at her.

“Before I go, though, d’you mind giving me your digits? I’d love to talk about, uh…computer science…over lunch.”

She snorts, “Who still says ‘digits’?” but hands him her phone anyway. 

It couldn’t hurt to try. 

“Sure.”

His eyes light up as if he wasn’t expecting her to say yes as he saves his number as ‘poetry slam guy’ in her phone, then hands it back.

“Cool,” Miles begins his walk towards the entrance backwards, holding eye contact for just a little longer before turning around. “G’night!”

“Goodnight!” the two women call out in unison as he leaves.

Margo looks to her left at the now-empty bar stool. The glass of wine Miles left on the counter is full, completely untouched.

It’s still on her mind as she's sitting in her single dorm room, re-writing her lecture notes on cyber security in a meticulous neat print that could almost pass for a font.

Every few minutes her pen stops because she’s distracted by the sound of clinking glass in boxes downstairs, or because she pauses to stare at the white wall in front of her that brings to mind one of the lines of Miles’ poem. 

There might be a spider that I can’t see sitting ten feet away from me right this second, she muses to herself. The thought gives her an idea, and the perfect excuse to call him without seeming too desperate.

Margo unlocks her phone and scrolls through her contacts. She smiles to herself at the contact name Miles chose. Did he think she’d forget his name that easily? 

His voice soon filters through the speaker.

“Hey, you didn’t throw out my number!”

“Yup, lucky you.” she replies. “I wanted to ask you a question? About your poem the other night.”

“What about it?”

“See, I was thinking about that first line. Are we really never more than ten feet away from a spider? Like, at any given moment?”

There’s a moment of silence from Miles before he asks:

“You…called me just to ask me that?”

“What? It’s a very pressing issue! There’s probably one in the corner  of my room as we speak!”

“Alright, I’ll humor you,” Miles laughs. “That’s actually a myth from the 90s. Your distance from the nearest spider really depends on where you’re at, so if you’re in a spot with hella bugs, you’re more likely to see one. You’re probably fine.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Margo gasps dramatically. “So you lied to all those poor folks in there?”

“Sure did. Played ‘em all like a fiddle.”

“Terrible.”

“So, why’d you really call? You don’t sound as concerned about spiders as you say you are, if I’m being honest.”

So much for an excuse.

“Don’t nothing get past you, huh?”

This earns a burst of laughter from Miles’ end.

“You’re a worse liar than me, I wouldn’t recommend making it a habit.”

“Ugh, fine,” Margo admits,  “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You could hear my voice in real life, you know. Offer’s still on the table, and I’m free today.”

Their second conversation, and already a lunch date? But as she’s reminded of what his voice sounds like, she quickly realizes that just the voice is not enough. 

Still, she tries to sound casual and makes a non-committal noise.

“Better than being cooped up in my room all day.”

“Great! Where you wanna go?”

Margo shrugs as if he can see her on the other end.

“Wherever you wanna go.”

“Ah, the ‘wherever you wanna go’ paradox,” he chuckles. “Okay, well–lemme ask you this then. Do you like eating with or without music?”

There’s a beat of silence as she considers.

“Hm…is the music good?”

“I’d never subject anyone to a place that plays shit music. Promise.”

“Music, then.”

“Cool, what time works for you?”

“How does two sound? I’ll catch you in front of the Engineering Library.”

“Bet. See you in an hour, then!”

-

The place Miles chose had a live band playing at the front.

A bass player, a keyboard pianist, a saxophonist, and a few background vocalists on occasion. All are propelled forward by the rapid-fire snare of the drummer. It’s jazz - the easy, conversational kind you hear in the background of 90s romantic comedies where the love interest wears nothing but dark lip liner and filled-in brows with a bit of smokey eyeshadow in the crease.

This is the look that Margo has decided to go for as she sits across from Miles at a mahogany table positioned ideally by the window.

It was all she could do other than frantically adjust the braided 'fro-hawk sitting atop her head and spin around in a mist of ‘Champagne Toast’ before bolting out the door.

She doubts he can even smell it right now through the curry and garlic.

“Figured out what you want yet?” Miles asks as he looks over his menu at Margo.

“Eh, I dunno,” she replies, running her index finger down her own menu. “I’m tryin’ not to blow half my paycheck on pasta right now.”

Miles gives her a strange look, then it clicks.

“Oh! Lunch is on me,” he laughs. “Your bank account’s safe for now.”

Her head snaps up.

“You should’ve mentioned that! I thought we were going half and half this whole time, I had my whole budget for the week planned out.”

Margo has to hold back an ugly cackle at the look of horror on Miles’ face right after she says this.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.”

With this new information in mind, she orders a bowl of chicken alfredo with a glass of lemonade that she sips on as the band seamlessly transitions into a cover of Solange’s ‘Cranes in the Sky’.

“So, Margo,” Miles rests his chin on his knuckles and squints his eyes comically. 

“If that is your real name.”

Margo giggles, and plays along.

“It’s not, it’s my alter-ego for when I go on top-secret missions.”

“Is it short for something? Or just Margo?”

“Hm,” she puts on an affected, ‘action movie’ voice, “If I tell you, I might have to kill you.”

“It’s worse ways to die out there.”

Margo looks around her as if to make sure no one’s listening, then leans in.

“It’s short for Marguerite.”

Miles snaps his fingers.

“I knew it!”

“What? You think I look like a Marguerite? Seriously?”

“No, but you got a lil’ country twang in your voice. Ain’t no way in hell Margo wasn’t short for something.”

“Man, alright,” she laughed. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” he winked, “I like ‘em country.”

“Boy, don’t give me that! You look like you’d pass out at the sight of a jar of pig’s feet.”

“Hey now, I got family in South Carolina. I used to go down there and see about ten of those every summer.”

“Fine, but you were still raised a Northerner. I could hear the Brooklyn from a mile away.”

Miles removed his hand from under his chin to clutch his chest.

“Ugh, I feel like I’m caught between two worlds!”

The reference to one of the more choice lines from the poetry slam makes Margo snort and let out a loud guffaw, which she quickly muffles with the palm of her hand.

“Why would you remind me of that!”

Miles is soon infected by the fit of laughter and has to put all his strength into not doubling over at the table and drawing attention.

“This nigga said,” he wheezed, “ ‘I keep doing the Achy Breaky to Suavemente!’ “

“I thought I was the only one who thought that shit sucked,” Margo sighed as she wiped a tear from her eye. “But I didn’t wanna be mean ‘cuz I’m not like, half Puerto Rican, or anything like that.”

“Well I am, and that whole poem felt like a microaggression. And I knew that guy!” He starts gesturing wildly with his hands at the outrage, which Margo finds hilarious. 

“He's like, one-eighth Boricua. His last name is fuckin’ Schwartz!” Miles scoffs, “He don’t know shit about no damn ‘Suavemente’. Bet he looked it up.”

“You should write your own poem, then. ‘Take up space’, as they say.”

“Hell no,” he said. “I left that behind in high school. The other night was an exception, remember?”

“Look, I’m not one to encourage more people to become poets, but you never know. Something might inspire you.”

Miles calms down and gives her a meaningful look.

“Maybe.”

The rest of the conversation saw Miles slyly gathering intel through bites of roasted chicken. He’d quickly learned from their meeting at the bar that his line of questioning with Margo ought to be less direct.

He even hit her with the ‘what’s your sign’ question, though Biggie would’ve advised against it (Margo was a Libra, he was a Leo). He didn’t actually care for astrology, but Margo wasted no time in proclaiming that she couldn’t stand Scorpios because they were ‘too nosy’. 

Miles’ only error was asking if she’d ever dated–correction–spoken to one, and her eyes hardened with suspicion again. He quickly elected to change the subject.

“Okay, totally random question, but humor me. How do you like your eggs?”

Margo blinks twice.

“What?”

“You heard me. You can tell a lot about a person by what kinda eggs they like, true shit.”

“Alright, fine. I like ‘em fried, with the crispy edges. What that say about me?”

“I dunno, but when I find out it’ll all make sense.”

Margo laughs.

“Okay, well, how do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled, fluffy,” A childish grin spread across Miles’ lips. “And seasoned with Adobo to make ‘em all orange.”

“Never had ‘em like that before.”

“Maybe I could make some for you sometime, if you’d let me.”

“Maybe.”

She remembers his promise a month later when she wakes up to the aroma of the seasoning and hears the pop of frying oil, letting out a sigh of relief at the realization that Miles is still there.

His back is facing her when she enters the kitchen, the morning light illuminating a tattoo she had never seen before. 

It’s a spider with sprawling legs that cascade all the way down the expanse of skin, the movement of his shoulder blades bringing them partially to life. She hadn’t noticed it in the dark, and he was not one to walk around in anything revealing enough for it to have ever seen daylight. It’s faded, which means he’s likely had it for years.

He’s only twenty-one, she thinks. Did he get it in high school?

Amusement creeps onto Margo’s face at the image of Miles sneaking around the house, darting in and out of the bathroom to clean it without his hawk-eyed mother or straight-edged father taking notice. Picturing this, it’s suddenly much easier to believe that their son would have to beg and plead for them to send him a measly forty-six miles away for school, even for an Ivy League. 

Miles doesn’t turn around yet, but Margo catches the way he stops, tilting his head playfully and placing a hand on his hip.

“Man, I can’t believe I’mma have to eat this whole thing of scrambled eggs all by myself, with the ones I just fried! How sad.” “You’re not very funny,” Margo says with a smile, pulling out a chair from beneath the dining table.

He switches the stove off, then does a dramatic spin to face her with fake surprise on his face.

“Oh! Where’d you come from? I didn’t see you there.”

He turns back around to grab two plates–ceramic ones, not the stack of styrofoam ones–from one of the cupboards to serve the eggs in, starting with fried.

Margo watches him silently. The tiny, squint-or-you-might-miss-it gold chain around his neck catches the light as he moves, and she remembers feeling the cold metal brush across her lips.

“The fried ones, are they–”

“Crispy at the edges?” he finishes, with a smile in his voice. “Yes ma’am!”

“You could really be a detective, can’t get nothing past you.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“See?”

The two burst into laughter, and the ink on Miles’ back does also. His poem was accurate, in a way. For the past five weeks, Margo has been no more than ten feet away from a spider.

They have a brief and quiet breakfast, wherein Margo finally asks to try the scrambled eggs and is delighted by the burst of flavor added by the Adobo. They aren’t too dry or too soggy the way they tend to be in restaurants - just fluffy, as promised. She thinks it might be time to finally start taking Miles at his word as she watches his back again while he’s washing dishes.

Once he is fully dressed and about to leave, Miles stops suddenly, as if he’s forgotten something. He reaches into the left pocket of his jacket and pulls out a neatly-folded sheet of paper, nervously running his other hand through the short dreads sitting atop his head.

“Before I leave, I, uh…I took your advice and wrote a lil’ something.”

He hands it to Margo, who takes it gingerly. 

“Well, good for you.”

“It’s been a while, so it’s kinda rough, but hopefully the sentiment is there.”

Miles plants a quick kiss on her cheek, and she smiles easily for once as opposed to the usual raised eyebrow.

“I’ll be sure to let you know if it is.”

Some time after he leaves, she finally sits down to read it while sipping on a cup of tea, because coffee wreaks havoc on her nerves. His handwriting is strange, overly graphic as if it’s the title card of a cartoon, but she reads it.

I know you don't like poetry 

but you said you liked mine,

and the way you sip your wine

has set my pen to paper,

so I hope 

you'll make another exception. 

You've already claimed

half of my sketchbook 

because I just can't get your eyes right.

I always make ‘em too soft,

or too round.

They don't pierce through me,

like they did when

you stared at me over your glass,

eyes narrowed.

When you search my face

and pick me apart,

I'd like to know what it is 

you're always searching for.

[archiveikemen]

William Rex Main Story: Chapter 0

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

≪ this story is in william's pov ≫

—

If life were a fairytale, happiness would be easy to find.

As long as you stayed away from sin, did as you were told, behaved yourself, and remained on the bright and safe path.

However, if… your innermost desires wanted another path,

Would the “happy ending” you obtained by killing them off be real happiness?

My answer is… NO.

…

William: — Slit your throat open. As slowly as possible.

There was no target of Crown’s who could escape us.

That included our target for tonight. Unable to even scream in agony, he picked up the knife with trembling hands.

In my hand was an envelope I found in that mansion we were in, with “Golden Butterfly” stamped onto it.

(To think I’d ever see this again.)

(Evil truly never learns its lesson.)

(That goes for them — and of course, myself included.)

If you asked 100 people, you would receive 100 different answers. There was no such thing as absolute evil.

If there was actually such a thing, it would be what’s residing in everyone’s hearts.

Something utterly unforgivable. Once forgiven, they would lose their individuality.

(To me, trampling on the freedom of others is an absolutely unforgivable sin.)

(And this “Golden Butterfly” was guilty of exactly that.)

In order to punish those unforgivable sinners, I was willing to go as far as to become a sinner myself.

If this were a fairytale, I would face the same fate as this man, which was to be painted as a villain.

Alfons: Ordered to “shut up” and unable to scream even in his last moments… how pitiful.

Elbert: … We didn't have a choice. There’ll be trouble if his neighbours hear screams.

Roger: Damn, that’s a convenient ability. It’d be a real nuisance if you were my enemy.

William: Ahaha, if you become my enemy, I’ll write it down on a calendar to give you an advanced warning.

While talking to those people who had long grown used to witnessing the punishment of sinners, I sat down in front of the piano in the hall.

William: Since we’re here, let’s play him a song.

I didn't have a specific melody in mind, I only moved my fingers across the piano keys as they pleased.

Ellis: That’s wonderful, he can die happy now.

Jude: … How is that possible? You’ve got a screw loose.

Every member of Crown had a different outlook on death.

There were some who pitied, some condemned themselves, some would laugh coldly, some who mourned the deaths, and some who simply accepted death as a matter of fact.

(Their similarity is that they’re all here because they followed what their hearts truly wanted.)

However, not everyone was capable of doing that.

I suddenly recalled those greedy eyes I saw in the evening.

(It’d be good if “she” could take the first step.)

Those were my thoughts as the knife went deep into the man’s neck, and fresh blood spurted everywhere.

— The door to the hall slowly opened.

Alfons: My, my, we weren't expecting an audience tonight.

(... That’s…)

William: Now look who we have here, aren't you the little robin I met earlier today?

Kate: Um… uh… eeh…?

I remembered that woman, who was petrified by the bloody sight she witnessed.

She was the postwoman I happened to meet in the evening.

– Flashback Start –

Kate: Pardon me, that envelope is mine. I have to deliver it.

She had a calm look in her eyes as she ran after the envelope.

William: Here you go, my lady.

Kate: … T- Thank you.

William: You’re welcome.

Kate: …

When I handed her the envelope, she seemed to have forgotten herself and stared blankly at me.

(... Found another one.)

(People who have this look in their eyes are often holding themselves back.)

(Holding themselves back from saying things that shouldn't be said.)

I loved witnessing the moment they decided to speak their mind.

I stared at her in silence, watching her calm gaze waver.

At the moment — it was as if I saw the burning flames of desire in her eyes.

Her heart was overflowing with emotions, and she was doing everything she could to suppress them.

“Take me to another world.”

(— “Anywhere”.)

It was as if I heard those words coming from her tightly shut mouth.

(Ahh.)

(What a pity.)

I didn't know what motivated her, but I knew that she wanted change.

There was a desire hidden deep inside of her, struggling and desperate to be free.

(If she were given the chance to freely follow her desires… how beautiful would that be.)

William: You only have two more deliveries to make?

Kate: … Huh?

Kate: P- Pardon me, I was in a daze—

William: You should hurry. It’ll get dark soon.

(It’s too unfortunate I can’t take her away right this instant.)

(Even if that “somewhere” you desire is this abysmal darkness.)

(But… if you follow your desires and take the first step…)

(Perhaps, we’ll meet again.)

– Flashback End –

(... I didn’t expect us to meet again so soon, and in this kind of setting.)

Liam: She’s acquaintances with Will? Does she know about us?

William: We merely exchanged a few words on the streets, Liam. She doesn't know about “Crown”.

Liam: Then we’re in trouble. What should we do…?

(If I say to kill her, you would surely not hesitate to do that immediately.)

(This cat living with the guilt and pain of taking a life is awfully commendable and lovely.)

Harrison: My apologies if it’s freaking you out. That thing is actually just a stage prop used for a play.

(... You’re still the same as ever, Harrison.)

If you took into consideration the reason why he was present on this dark night, you would understand why he tried to create an escape route for her.

He looks like he doesn't have a care in the world, but he had a strong will.

Kate: Y-You’re lying…

Harrison: … It would’ve been better if you at least pretended to believe me.

Unfortunately, she instantly ruined her chance of escaping.

(Well, I suppose that’s to be expected.)

(She was meant to come here.)

Harrison: What do we do about this, Will?

William: Of course we should — take her to “The Palace’s Grim Reaper”.

Jude: Tch… I told you to lock the gate.

Roger: Haha I didn’t think anyone would trespass. You’re a naughty girl, aren't you, young lady?

Ellis: Why don't you come over? There’s no escape.

“There’s no escape” — the moment she heard those words, her body grew stiff.

She tried to back away, but her leg only moved slightly.

(Sorry, I can’t let you leave.)

(“Because you saw” is, of course, one of the reasons… but that's not all.)

It must've been a coincidence that one of her deliveries was addressed to this mansion.

However, our meeting right now was no coincidence.

(The sound of a piano being played is a sign that there's someone in the mansion, but a postwoman has no reason to enter a mansion in the dead of the night.)

(You came here on your own will.)

(You have yet to realise that.)

With great pains, she took the first step.

William: “Come here, poor little robin.”

(Let me see the desire that’s propelling you.)

Her legs obediently started moving.

Kate: I don’t want to…!

(Haha, I’m finally hearing her say her desire out loud.)

Like she was presenting herself, she stopped in front of me.

I could clearly see a splash of red on her cheek.

(... Beautiful.)

For some reason, the colour of sin suited her.

(If your will leads you to be stained with blood in the future, that would suit you much better.)

William: Pardon my discourtesy.

I pulled her closer, and she shut her eyes out of fear.

William: Done.

I wiped the blood off her face and let her go.

As if all the strength had left her body, her legs gave way and she fell onto the floor.

The calm gaze I saw in the evening was now shaking like a violently stormy sea.

It contained feelings of fear, confusion — and small bit of anticipation.

(What’s hidden in your heart?)

(What was it that made you brashly run into the darkness?)

The thought of finding out the answer to that mystery made my heart dance.

(Ahh, this will be fun.)

William: A late self-introduction. My name is William. William Rex.

William: I’m inviting you for dinner tonight. What is your name, dear guest?

(I’ll give you as much love as I can.)

May you be a flower blooming beautifully in the darkness.

[thevalleyoftriumph]

hi!! saw your post of DID Chosen (am I allowed to call it that??) and I have been curious ever since, apologies if any of these has been asked before https://www.tumblr.com/thevalleyoftriumph/757624875107090432/so-um-for-those-who-arent-in-the-ava-community?source=share ^ Post I'm referring to just in case What are your characterisations of Chosen, Beast and Killer like? Going off of Killer not recognising Dark in the post, it was Chosen fronting in AVA3 yes? Who was fronting during showdown? Going once again off the post Beast is non-verbal/ mute/ straight up doesn't know how to talk, is that why he resorted immediately to violence upon returning from Alans PC? Assuming that was Beast Was Chosen co-conscious during showdown? Simply watching as someone else used his hands to tear his best friend apart? Or did he come back to find his life destroyed, and best friend killed, with no idea how any of it happened Also, what are Chosen, Killer's and Beasts pronouns? I assume they differ from eachother. And are your Chosen and Dark siblings? Sorry I'm aware this is an insane amount of questions, apologies if it is overwhelming Final thing, all I know about DID is from DissociaDID (may be spelled wrong) on YouTube, and I have no idea how trustworthy of a source they are, nor have I watched them in years, so apologies if any of the terms/ information I have here is out of date or proven false Anyway, that's all, hope you have a good day :]

hi oh my god anon i love you. sorry i just really adore getting asked about stuff i love yapping and youve offered me a LOT to talk about, please expect a MASSIVE wall of text. like i mean it the wall is huge and took me like, an hour or two to type up. you opened the floodgates anon.

FIRST THINGS FIRST ☝ never apologize for being curious it is the most wonderous trait a person could have. i have spoken about some of these before but mostly in the replies or dms of people and thus it is perfectly okay by me to ask for me to repeat them here. secondly your questions are not at all overwhelming in fact i got very excited to answer once i realized how much youve asked. thirdly your phrasing is pretty accurate yes! ones you used are def pretty common, and i appreciate the willingness to be corrected - lots of phrases [though not specifically the ones you used, i mean more generally] are picked up and dropped by people for a whole variety of reasons ranging from comfort to accuracy to current knowledge, so being open to being corrected is a wonderful mindset to have when going into something youre unfamiliar with ! <3

anyhow, answers to the questions, numbered to each, under the cut ^_^ and just for ease im also going to actually type like a normal human being just this once lol. last warning here if you click "keep reading" youre in for a MASSIVE wall of rambling!

1: What are your characterisations of Chosen, Beast and Killer like?

I'd say my characterizations aren't anything too far from common interps, mostly regarding Chosen.

Chosen is a relatively soft spoken and monotone individual. He's prone to getting lost in thought a lot, especially when in conversation - he likes to think things through very much before speaking. A stick of few words, he likes being simple and blunt. He has a very hard time trusting people, but when he does, he trusts fully and deeply -- he is a very, very loyal person once that trust is earned. Even if someone he trusts does something to cause him to become upset with them, such as with Dark, he is willing to hear them out. Despite this, he's also very rash - much as he loathe to admit it. He may not speak without thinking, but he very much acts without thinking, sometimes even doing something without realizing it at first. This leads to a lot of things bad - such as him shoving Dark from the console in the flashback. He acts in ways he thinks he should, consciously or not. He's also got a bit of Dark's stubborness - once he sets his mind to something, it's a very difficult task to get him to back down.

Killer is, despite their name, very different from what you'd assume. They're a relatively happy person, all things considered, and despite having trust issues of their own, often tries to see the best in people. They're also a more ""casual"" fronter, bordering on co-host, as they usually end up in front for more minor things, or even just incidentally after they wake up. They're quick to adapt, usually masking as Chosen in these cases, but are equally quick to relax in safe environments and be more themselves. They're very talkative, and love learning about any and all topics that interest them. They also fidget a bunch - often with the ends of the body's scarf, or with their bracelet, gloves, belts, whatever is closest. Despite all this, they're also quite jumpy - they are primarily responsible for internal things, especially regarding their memories, and thus holds quite a few negative feelings and memories that they'd all rather not have. And yet, somehow despite all of that, they have a hard time with people. Like shown in the comic, Killer isn't always in front, and doesn't have access to nearly as many memories as you'd think for someone with their "role." In fact, they had no idea Dark existed until the very moment in that comic, which in my mind takes place years after Dark and Chosen ended up living together. How on earth they managed to go that long without meeting him, well your guess is as good as mine. I'd say it's a mix of good timing [or bad, depending on how you look at it] and generally "better" circumstances not requiring them to switch in as much as they previously had to.

Beast... Beast is a whole other can of worms, honestly. It's a general wildcard. The result of being treated inhumanely and without compassion, Beast is someone who is stuck in fight or flight mode for it's whole life -- and it's response is anything BUT flight. It is aggressive to anyone outside of the system, and anything it could see as a threat to their safety. Like I mentioned, it doesn't really speak - internally, it can't, and externally, it just forgets that the body isn't limited like it is, so it ends up silent. This leads to a lot of body language - it is incredibly expressive, and has a bit of a staring problem when it's not actively trying to maul something. Honestly if I drew sticks with eyes it'd totally do that thing that cat eyes do in the dark where it just looks at you super ominously from the shadows lol. Anyways, despite this, as I will always reiterate when talking about Beast's personality, it is not malicious. It is not evil, and it is not trying to hurt people on purpose. It is, first and foremost, protective and scared. It does not know HOW to calm down, or how to feel safe, because every time it's ever fronted, it has been faced with progressively worse and worse circumstances. It is determined and protective, and willing to go to great lengths to protect the system -- and perhaps, one day, if it can heal enough to trust others, it would do the same for them. If you thought Chosen was loyal, then you haven't seen Beast at its absolute best.

2: Going off of Killer not recognising Dark in the post, it was Chosen fronting in AVA3 yes? Who was fronting during showdown?

You'd be correct, for the most part! During the beginning of AVA3, when Chosen was still imprisoned as the ad-block, it was primarily Beast - thus, the chains on it's design, and its seeming unawareness of them. Then, once freed, Chosen had essentially force-fronted into co-front with Beast to fight his way out, eventually allowing Beast to sorta "pull back" out of front over the course of the episode - probably when Chosen and Dark team up. [And for clarification - when I mean "pull back," I mean sorta slowly being pulled from front in a switch. I'm not ever really sure how to describe what it feels like to slowly not front instead of being forcefully switched out, but this is how it makes the most sense to me. I'm sorry if it makes absolutely zero sense to anyone else lol]

As for who was fronting during Showdown, I'll admit that I haven't entirely decided. Initially for sure, during the flashback, it is 100% Chosen. Even during the early fight scenes it's primarily him - he's not being completely overpowered or even threatened with complete death [as, at the very least in my interp, Dark never intended to kill Chosen, just incapacitate so that he could go through with his plan. He only started striking to kill with the CG, but not Chosen - never Chosen.]

However, I'd say Chosen and his systemmates were, after a point, REALLY fucking blurry for a lot of that episode. Rapid switches that left them disoriented and dizzy and much slower to react than they'd usually be. When Chosen goes back to Alan's PC, that is when it's not necessarily unclear anymore. I'd say at that point particularly, Chosen has pulled away enough for the sorta blurry mess in front to be exclusively Beast and Killer, with Killer being busy masking as Chosen to get rid of the Virabot, but Beast being sorta hovering ominously over their shoulder internally thanks to the SEVERELY negative associations with the desktop. Killer's masking would probably have slipped a bit at seeing the CG, mostly out of personal shock at learning about them, but they would've left back to the Outernet before they could really think too hard about it.

The rest of the episode, especially when Chosen is seen overpowered by Virabots, is totally 100% Beast IMO. The situation of being contained, restricted, overpowered and in danger - life threatening to them, even if Dark never intended for it to be that way - it was much too similar to their early days on the desktop. Thus, Beast VERY solidly force-fronted and in doing so with taking complete ""control"" made it so neither Killer NOR Chosen were there for the ending of Showdown. A lot of the actions done once TSC came back were just done out of shock, and a very rare show of trust - TSC had shown Beast that they were willing to fight to protect them, collectively, even if it was really in response to their friends being harmed - protect one, protect them all, if that makes sense. TSC had removed the threat, and thus, Beast had sorta filed them away as one of the very few ""trustworthy"" sticks - even if it's not necessarily trust, it's the closest thing to it.

3: Going once again off the post Beast is non-verbal/ mute/ straight up doesn't know how to talk, is that why he resorted immediately to violence upon returning from Alans PC? Assuming that was Beast

Beast totally had a hand in it, yeah. Despite it and Killer being relatively equally "there" so to speak during the return to the PC in Showdown, Beast did have a MASSIVE influence on their collective actions. Killer fought because it knew it had to prevent bad things from happening, while Beast fought because it was the ONLY thing it knew to do to prevent bad things from getting WORSE. That is to say you're pretty spot on there lol

4: Was Chosen co-conscious during showdown? Simply watching as someone else used his hands to tear his best friend apart? Or did he come back to find his life destroyed, and best friend killed, with no idea how any of it happened

As briefly explained previously, Chosen wasn't the only fronter for a lot of it, and got completely booted out of co-consciousness after a point. Thus, while he knows logically that he fought with Dark, and when he DID front again, he could connect two-and-two together and realize that Dark got fucking murked, you're right to assume has remembers VERY little of the in-between and the specifics.

In fact, quite a few memories from even the co-conning were instead "given" to Beast and Killer. That's not exactly how it works but it's the best way I can describe it, based off my own experiences with co-conning with others -- sometimes you just don't end up getting the memories if there's multiple people in front, for one reason or another.

Anyhow, yeah, most memories of that day are kinda stuffed in the metaphorical closet. Chosen knows something happened between him confronting Dark and him ending up at home on the couch with a hole in the 2nd floor walls, but he just.. doesn't remember any of it. He can make the connections - he can look out the window and see the result of TSC's final blow to Dark from their house, after all. He can tell Dark isn't just hiding out somewhere. He's forgetful, not a fool. But he doesn't know what happened in the fight, or necessarily who killed Dark, and honestly Chosen's internal communication with his systemmates is absolute shit and there's no way in hell Killer OR Beast are leaving notes about a Really Traumatic Event in a journal for him, so his ass is NEVER finding out unless someone tells him.

[Which, to explain why he knows of TSC's powers in Wanted in that case, on some occasions memories do get ""passed"" from alter to alter. This is usually done in the case of "filling in" for the host, for example, where the alter requires information that another alter had taken in. This is commonly seen in situations where, for instance, a system is out at the store, but whoever entered had switched out for one reason or another, and the new fronter needs to mask as the other one to finish their task without "giving away" that something happened. This isn't the most common thing for Everyone I'd say, but it happens with my system sometimes, and also happens with some of my system buddies too. Thus, in my mind, it happens to Chosen too sometimes. It doesn't ALWAYS happen! Ie, that time Killer had no idea who Dark was. But it Can and so I'm portraying it here lol.]

5: Also, what are Chosen, Killer's and Beasts pronouns? I assume they differ from eachother. And are your Chosen and Dark siblings?

They do, yeah! While I've seen some systems sorta default to one or two sets of pronouns collectively, a lot of alters DO have preferences for pronouns pretty commonly. I mean, I myself vary wildly from some of my systemmates, a lot of whom, for example, use she/her, but I myself don't at all! It's honestly pretty interesting to see the differences, from a curiosity standpoint.

Anyways, back to Chosen. I would once again like to state that these are my personal headcanons and also I don't own Killer OR Beast, I'm just giving them character, and thus not everyone may agree necessarily.

Chosen: He/him primarily, but doesn't mind they/them too. He's kinda like that one tweet that's like "I think I'm nonbinary but I have a job so idc about that right now" in a way lol

Killer: They/them. Has a very wavery sense of identity though, so it's not like they'll get mad or anything at other pronoun usage. They honestly encourage people to get a little fun with it.

Beast: It/it's. Not in a dehumanizing way, but in a reclaiming sort of way.

Lastly, in my interp of Chosen and Dark, they are indeed siblings, yeah! I really adore the headcanon of all 4 hollowheads being siblings, it makes me incredibly happy, so it's like that in pretty much all of my interps/AUs. If it's work done by me, you can probably assue Chosen and Dark are related lol.

anyway yeah that's about it i'd say :] once again i love you so very much for asking questions, and i hope these answered them and didn't just run you in circles for twenty minutes ! i do have a bit of a habit of just yapping on and on and not being very clear, so if anything doesn't make sense or if you want me to expand on any points, or even if i've just repeated or even contradicted myself, then feel free to point it out or ask anything else! ^_^

[hearted-anon]

Tickletober Day 19: Eager

Words: 1054 Note: Hmm, y'all want more main AU lore? Requested by: @itzsana-kiddingmenow T/w: None, Soft tickling been on a rise lately... Taglist: @reginald-stay09 @itzsana-kiddingmenow @hetashi-takashimaya-apollos-kid @soap143 @jungwon-is-the-one Lee: Jisung Ler: Seungmin

"Seungmin… Seungmin!" The younger snaps his head at the repeated calling of his name, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to focus on the anime scenes that were playing on the bright television screen in front of him. Originally, the ace had invited the vocalist over to his room to binge watch an anime that Seungmin didn't even know the name of, but he had nothing to do around the dorms that could possibly be an excuse not to go, and so he went. However, the anime ended up being much more intriguing than the vocalist had expected it to be, eyes practically glued onto the screen while Jisung himself was struggling to keep his focus on the tv in front of them.

"What? Didn't you want to watch this anime?" Seungmin grumbled with no malice behind it, raising an eyebrow at how Han was fidgeting on the bed like a dog that hasn't been walked for days. Even if Jisung was the one who had suggested this entire plan to Seungmin, it felt as if the roles were swapped, the vocalist now being more interested in the show than the restless quokka was. Thinking nothing of it, the puppy turned his head around, eyes back on the screen and internally praying that he didn't miss anything important; even if he had a good grasp of Japanese, focusing on both Jisung and whatever the characters were saying was easier said than done.

"Um… but I'm bored! I'm really, really bored, and eager for some fun.." The way Jisung spoke made Seungmin gag in his throat, slowly turning around yet again to be face to face with Jisung and his wiggling eyebrows. What was actually going through this man's mind? Seungmin pondered, seeing how the elder was staring him down like he was his next meal, probably was going to be. As Han crawled ever so closer, the bed creaking with each little movement he made closer to the puppy, the vocalist prepared to at least put up a fight before going down, tensing up completely.

However, what happened next caught him completely off guard. Instead of tackling him to the bed and wrecking him to pieces like what Seungmin had imagined and conjured to a weirdly detailed degree in his head, the older simply laid his head onto Seungmin's lap, making his jaw drop slightly in surprise. Their hands were soon intertwined and placed onto the sides of Han's waist quietly. After a moment of awkward silence, simply staring into each other's souls while trying to predict what each other's next moves were, it dawned on Seungmin what Jisung was wanting all along. How could he have been this oblivious?!

"Seriously? You were this eager you made me come all the way here to tickle you? Why couldn't you have asked Felix, or Minho?" Seungmin wondered aloud, but nonetheless his fingers began their journey of digging into the ace's sides, pulling a squeal and the sweetest giggles began to tumble from his mouth. What the puppy had observed was how the quokka's face began to redden significantly despite his words not even meant to be for teasing, maybe he really was just that sensitive from all the anticipation today.

"Ahaha! I-It's embarrassing! Ahahand Minho is buhuhusy!" Jisung butts back, and Seungmin instantly catches onto how he only mentioned how Minho had a specific excuse to find Seungmin, and yet Felix had none. It wasn't a well-hidden fact that the members really enjoyed being tickled, just that some of them were more sensitive around the topic, while some were more open. And one of the prime examples were of course, the sunshine twins. So why would it ever be embarrassing to ask to be tickled by Felix of all people? Seungmin bit his inner cheek in wonder, fingers left to themselves to do whatever they pleased. And to no one's surprise, Jisung was soaking all the affection up, giggling like a child below the vocalist.

"Seuhuhuhungmin! Plehehease it tickles!" Jisung whined, squeaking when nails began to scrape over his stomach with no thought, sending him into another frenzy of giggles. Meanwhile, the younger just stared back with a blank stare, the slight furrow of his eyebrows hinting that he was trying to solve the mystery that probably no one knew yet. Oh well, at least he would have bragging rights when the group finds out eventually, about what he knows and figured out now. Leaning down, Seungmin whispered something into Jisung's ear, earning a loud shriek and incessant babbling before he threw his head back with laughter when the puppy's hands began to start up on his sides again, throwing him off.

"So I'm right hm? That's quite cute, Hyung-ah. So eager, yet so nervous, aren't you?" Seungmin snickered, feeling an almost sadistic sense of happiness from the reaction he was getting from the older. His face was a bright red, not even trying to hide it with his hands bunching the bedsheets into messy fists of fabric, twisting left and right when the vocalist's nails scraped along his waist with expertise and precision, and somehow still managing to focus on the anime. Somehow, Jisung had a craving for it to be rougher, the gentle sensations on his waist heightening his eagerness to be wrecked to no end. But he knew Seungmin wouldn't give him that satisfaction, no matter how much he begged.

"Lehehet up! Let up!" Doing as he was told, the ace took his time to catch his breath, looking at the completely unfamiliar scene of anime playing in front of him, making a self-reminder somewhere to rewatch everything in the middle of the night later. The puppy only stared with a knowing gaze, a hint of mischief behind him before the quokka playfully punched him in the back, alerting him that he was going to find Chan to completely fulfill his needs, getting a soft tutting before a tease that made Jisung completely turn around and pile himself atop Seungmin, fingers immediately digging into the sides of his belly, pulling a scream before breathless cackles emitted from the younger, filling the room with sounds of credits playing and laughter once more.

Jisung definitely was eager for revenge though, and perhaps he still did get wrecked by the leader later on in the day.

[foggieststars]

also landoscar pub au <3

for u my dear the lover of highly specific aus based on real life experiences....

“So - you ever worked in a pub before?” 

“Ah, yeah,” Oscar says, and Lando perks up. “As a glass collector –” Lando works hard to suppress a groan, “--but I know how to pull a pint!” Oscar says, brightly. 

“Oh!” Lando says. “That’s good, then. Great, actually - it takes most people a while until they can do it right, so that’ll be a big help. Er - d’you mind if I just watch you do one? Not that I don’t trust you, but, you know.” 

Oscar gives him an amused look, and Lando bristles a little. He knows that most of the people who come to work for Zak are mostly just doing it to save up money for uni, or to go travelling, whatever. It’s not the hardest job in the world, maybe, but it is Lando’s job, so he doesn’t appreciate being mocked for taking it seriously. And he’s the one who’ll get the stick for it if Oscar serves a pint that’s half foam, anyway. 

“No problem,” Oscar says politely. “Which one are you willing to sacrifice?” he asks, and gestures at the beer taps. 

“Oh,” Lando says. He’d been half-expecting a mocking response, like he'd get off some of the previous fuckwits he’s been unfortunate enough to work alongside. “Um, Fosters, I guess. Zak can have it.” 

“Okay,” Oscar says, and picks up a Fosters glass. He didn’t even have to search for it too long on the shelf either. He hooks the glass underneath the tap, tilting it at a forty-five degree angle, and pulls the tap down so the beer starts to flow. Lando takes in the way Oscar’s bicep tenses with perfect calm. 

[fkevin073]

Will Lucy Grey disappear from Coriolanus' life for a while to give him a chance with Livia? Will he create a family with Livia? Although it seems to me that the appearance of children would mean the ultimate end. I don't understand how Livia could agree to the arrangement. Is a happy ending at all possible for Lucy Grey and Coriolanus ? Will they be able to find their way together after Coriolanus is no longer president ?

lol these are a lot of questions that I can't answer because spoilers!!

um... I mean, idk I have a specific vision of how their relationship unfolds over the next five/six years. like I don't think they see much of each other until Coriolanus kinda strong-arms Lucy Gray into coming back into his life again, because I think she really did mean what she said at the end of the last chapter; like she does want him to try with Livia, even if she kind of hopes he never loves Livia like he does her, because while Lucy Gray is a good person at her core she still likes the control she has over this person who is so cool and powerful to everyone else but loses his mind if she so much as kisses someone. it's insane.

and as for Livia... I'm not going to feature her too heavily in the next chapter I don't think, but for her, like Coriolanus says, she's ambitious in her own right. she doesn't have the political drive to go into politics on her own, but she does want to leave her own legacy/stamp on the world, and she revels in power/status/admiration, and what better way to achieve that than becoming First Lady? Livia may have been annoyed when Coriolanus broke things off with her in chapter 2 because she thought they were kickstarting their political dynasty, not because I think she genuinely has feelings for him.

I think they see each other very clearly, and in a way, because let's face it affairs are very common place for rich/influential people, she almost admires the fact that he was honest and upfront with her about his relationship with Lucy gray? Or at the very least appreciates it, because she knows what to expect. And I think for him too, he knows she'll have her own affairs with people she wouldn't want to marry because it'd be a decline in social status (like her bodyguard for example) so long as she's discreet and no one really knows, he doesn't care at all.

In some ways actually, I think him and Livia see the world more similarly than him and Lucy gray do - like Livia, like Coriolanus, would never entertain the less than conventional upbringing Lucy Gray had before becoming an orphan. She very much leans into the whole 'traditional' upbringing and way of life in a way Lucy Gray never really has.

As for whether Lucy gray and Coriolanus can be happy after he's president... well, that's something that will probably be discussed in chapter 4, so no spoilers!!

thanks for the ask anon! ♥️

[neutronity]

Hua Cheng's Limitless Devotion

Sooooo... yeah. I read all 1.2M words in Heaven Official's Blessing (this included mostly already-published books, but also got my hands on the translation of the last books, since they are not yet published...) and my god I have too many thoughts in my brain.

But I want to start with this one (will put these below the read bar because spoilers abound.) Seriously, if you're watching the show or even if you've not completely finished the novels and don't like to be spoiled, well.. there be dragons below.

TW: Spoilers, Self-harm, Ideation, just... if you've read the books, you know. Suffering.

🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲🐲

One of the most heart-wrenching parts in the entire series is after Xie Lian has been broken. Not only did having 100 people stab him fail to save them, but his attendants have both left him, and both his mother and father have killed themselves so they are no longer his burden.

He's been twisted by White No Face so badly he has decided to unleash the Human Face disease on Yong'An for all they have done to him and his kingdom. As he's walking the former battlefield, recruiting the unsettled ghosts to take part in his plague, a wrath-rank ghost comes to him to offer his devotion and service. He doesn't have a name, so XL calls him Wu Ming. (Hint: it's Hua Cheng, or rather pre-Kiln HC.) They go together, murdering as they go (including the Yong'An king and crown prince.) It's gruesome and angry. XL is also on a clock. The curse needs to be unleashed, or it will backfire onto him.

And XL is resolved to do this. He tests the populace by revealing his face and laying in a hole, with a sword sticking out of his chest, waiting to see if even a single person will offer him help.

What happens next? Well... no one comes. Until the very last moment, when a surly guy gives XL his hat. That small gesture of kindness allowed XL to remember those pieces of himself, and he decided he was not going to unleash the plague.

Because of the whole no turning back portion of this though, the only way to stop what XL had started was to take in the cursed souls himself, and he was prepared to do that. But at the last moment, Wu Ming steps in and sacrifices himself instead. (Did I cry? Um yes. I cried. Kind of a lot.)

But it also got me thinking: what would have happened if XL had not "come to his senses" and actually unleashed the plague? Would HC still have faithfully followed him?

Yes.

We are meant to understand this too. That even if XL had folded in on himself and become a monster like WNF/Jun Wu, even with Hua Cheng knowing fully that XL had turned to that? Still he would have followed.

HC was not looking for XL to be a different person, he had not foisted expectations on XL. His faith (and ultimately what kept him tenaciously attached to the world) was that he lived for XL. That would mean that he would have lived for XL even if XL turned into a monster.

This is different than Feng Xin too, who had specific idealizations and expectations of XL. Princes should not dirty their hands, princes should not busk, princes should not rob others to survive.

Crown princes should not commit genocide.

Pretty much everyone can agree with that one. Because YEAH. And pretty much everyone would abandon someone who committed it.

But Hua Cheng would not have. He would not cluck his tongue in disapproval and disagreement, because his devotion was so deep. His devotion did not depend on the actions of the prince, they were not his to judge. He would help XL to survive and protect him from everything, even if it was in defense of a twisted prince suffering the same fate as White No Face, fighting heaven to be allowed to kill some more.

If we ever ask why XL lived, it's because HC's devotion was amoral. It was because he had faith and loved his prince more than anything, no matter what decisions that prince ultimately made.

It's really hard to wrap our minds around this. Could we too follow someone who became twisted enough to hurt everyone else around them? Where is the line we have made? Because there are very very very few people who don't have a line somewhere.

Hua Cheng did not have a line.

It's possible (and probable) that this lack of judgment, lack of line, is what will keep XL walking his own path, his third path. Because knowing that there will be someone there no matter what you do, whether it's rob a rich person or busk or... well, unleash a plague... makes it easier to do everything.

If you know that you have someone in your corner that will be there for you no matter what, who cares if you trip in the mud? Or kick someone's teeth in for insulting your friend?

HC's limitless devotion grounds XL. It's the thing that will keep XL from ever transforming into WNF, and ultimately it was also something Jun Wu was missing.

It's hard to say if that would have made a difference in JW's case, but I stand by it making all the difference in the world in XL's case.

[porcupine-girl]

So, I get that Babylon 5 wrapped up some storylines early because they didn’t think they’d get a S5. Which means they don’t really have a whole season’s worth of material for S5.

But they basically had two loose ends to tie up: the question of whether there will be a telepath war and how, and how we get to the Centauri future that Sheridan saw.

The Centauri one is going well so far, nearly halfway into the season. They definitely don’t seem to have enough to say for it to carry the show, which is too bad because it’s my favorite part of the season so far. But what we’ve gotten so far is solid enough.

But this whole telepath thing makes no sense at all, at any point. The writers can’t seem to make up their minds about the motivations and opinions of the telepath cult in general, Byron specifically, Lyta specifically, or any of the mundanes trying to deal with them except maybe Garibaldi. And the captain, sort of, but she’s only been an active part of that storyline like once. I also can’t figure out when and to what extent they expect us to find the cult and Byron creepy vs sympathize with them/him.

Lyta swings wildly back and forth between being the most sensible person in the room and swooning because Byron has pretty hair, which we have never been told is the source of her feelings for him but we’ve never been given any other believable motivation so it’s as good as anything.

And it just keeps going further off the rails. Byron asks the council for a home world, Sheridan for no discernible reason is like ABSOLUTELY NOT, and what does Byron do? Maybe say “whoa there Mr dictator maybe let me make my case and then let these nice people, who actually own the planets we’re asking about, vote?” No of course not, he jumps straight to blackmail. Then later is like “as long as we stay down here and haven’t broken any laws” um??? You are blackmailing a dozen high-ranking officials???? Is that not illegal?

And speaking of that, he says the security team will have no choice but to protect them, but when they realize someone is being beaten at no point does he or anyone else (including Lyta who is smarter than this!!!) suggest they, oh, maybe, call security and tell them the Drazi are attacking an innocent person? No no, their choices are hide in their bunker or grab their iron pipes that he’s allowed them to keep lying around even after they killed that one guy and go vigilante.

I could keep going. I’m just super annoyed because maybe I’m totally wrong but so far this seems like what they were actually planning for the telepath war thing and not something they came up with to fill time in S5? If it is, they really should have (and probably easily could have) padded out the Centauri arc instead.

[zeravmain]

Tell us about your opinions about talking animal movies.

I will try to be brief (1/435)

Before we get into The Opinions, I need to first establish that when I talk about talking animal movies, I specifically mean live-action talking animal movies in all their unrepentant glory, so no fully animated stuff like Legends of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga'Hoole (2010), or a semi-animated realism one like Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988) and also stuff like The Muppet's movies. We are also including talking animals who are narrated and don't have CGI applied to their faces to make the illusion of talking, so films like Milo and Otis (1986) do qualify, but something like Zootopia (2016) does not. This is exclusively live-action, though of course there can be special effects or CGI included in these selections, even fake animals so long as they work as animals within the story. The main basis needs to be that it is a live-action movie where there are realistic (per the movies) animals talking.

More than anything, these movies tend to be kids movies (of course) but that in itself does not mean that these movies are always intentionally silly. No doubt that the vast majority of them are comedy, mind you, but there's a difference between genuine well-made comedy (for kids) and something like that scene in 50 First Dates (2004) where we have the walrus throw up on the worker (side note I am not including this movie despite how the animals do seemingly communicate with Adam Sandler, already a talking animal himself in some respects).

Now onto my opinion: There are precisely 4 golden questions you need to consider for whether any given talking animal movie is good (subjective), and more than anything is that these are not hallmarks but rather categories these movies fall under and should embrace to be enjoyable.

1. How much suspense of disbelief is the movie demanding from you?

Ah, the classic concept for media engagement that seems to be lost to time. Generally, whenever you will be approaching a new movie or show or etc, there is always the question of realism and the idea of suspension of disbelief, how much you are willing to shutter away that little voice in your head that makes you chronically unfuckable that goes "um ACTUALLY that scene is totally unrealistic-" and other noteworthy lines. For a movie with talking animals, of course you will be expected to give it some ground, but as well you need to keep in mind that you don't just throw it all out.

More than anything, a bad movie made with passion is better than a good movie made with none. How much does the talking animal movie like the fact that it is a talking animal movie? Do they just cash it in for the paycheck like the latter half films of the Air-Bud Extended Universe, or do they double down and go whole hog on the concepts like with G-Force (2009)? Are the movies simple comedies like Marmaduke (2010) that know they are there just to give you a laugh, or do they try their damnedest to make up a moral like Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2 (2011)?

Once more, a bad movie does not mean a bad movie when talking about this complex topic, so while I do think these questions I posit are subjective, they are recommendations to keep in mind for your viewing experience.

2. Are the talking animals actually animals or just people who happen to also be animals?

Certain scholars might point you to Alvin and The Chipmunks, or Garfield (2004) and Garfield: A Tale of Two Kitties (2006) for reference on talking animal movies which deal with this subject matter, perhaps the most famous example being Stuart Little (1999), the mouse who actually goes to school and, within the plot of the movie, gets captured by a hate group (of cats) who plan to kill and eat him.

This question can apply to a fair bit of movies, I think the Dr. Dolittle movies could fall under here as those movies actually hinge on how the titular "Dr. Dolittle" specifically has the power to talk with animals, where in turn this power makes said animals genuine characters and it's not treated as a minor quirk. Another good example could actually be Detective Pikachu (2019), where Ryan Renolds does his best to Renolds it up. Paddington (2014) also qualifies for this question under the same rules as Stuart Little, where Paddington is just a person but also a bear.

A more modern variant could be Show Dogs (2018), where the dogs are not understood by the humans, but do in fact hold places in human society. I also want to give a special shout-out to Kangaroo Jack (2003) here, which does not technically qualify for this list given that Jack never really talks (only makes implicit noises that kangaroos can't actually make), but I believe that in spirit it qualifies here. Same with Furry Vengance (2011), who I believe in spirit qualifies due to the animals having human levels of intelligence and primarily having all the markers of talking animal movies, except for that the animals themselves don't directly talk.

3. Are the talking animals actually talking?

Already this one may seem ridiculous given the subject matter, but I do think that it's important to keep in mind. Whenever there is a talking animal movie, there is always the question of "are these animals just actually speaking english in the real world or is this just the omniscient movie viewer translation for them?' George of the Jungle (1997) actually had a very clever opening sequence where they provided translation for realism, except that the translation was [ANIMAL NOISES] while said animals spoke in clear english.

This does not mean that the movie NEEDS to be realistic, mind you. Technically the Narnia movies count as talking animal movies due to Aslan being, well, a giant talking lion, but those are intentionally a fantasy setting which makes it fit, same with a film like The Golden Compass (2007). To a lesser extent, the live action Scooby-Doo movies also fit as talking animal movies due to the presence of Scooby and [REDACTED] Doo, where Scooby and robotic Rowin Atkinson are just actual talking animals as an accepted fact of life within those universes despite being clear anomalies. Once again, Alvin and the Chipmunks live action movie series fit here. Perhaps a more elegant example could be found in Zookeeper (2011), where the animals do talk, and do directly communicate with Kevin James.

Of course there can be duds, such as Ace & The Christmas Miracle (2021), where it falls into the territory of also being a Christmas Hallmark movie with a recycled plot of saving the horse ranch. Conversely, we have a 'So bad it's good' movie like The Karate Dog (2004), which suffers from inglorious CGI, the dog actually speaking to humans, and all the depth you can expect from a dog performing martial arts in what is actually a buddy cop detective film.

4. How much do they take advantage of the animals talking?

Ah, now this one is the classic kaiju movie dilemma: Is the movie actually about the talking animals, or are they simply a backdrop b-plot for the "main character" humans of the movie who are like. usually planning a wedding or something. They always make these romantic. You may remember the classics such as Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019) or the Transformers movies (Michael Bay version) where they shoehorned in a plot concerning the humans in order to make people care about the movies or provide some narration, irrespective of how these franchises do better without them.

You can look to films like G-Force (2009), which manage to elegantly intermix these plots by having the human and animal characters goals line up, mainly in that they want to prevent a genocide, or how movies like Milo and Otis (1986) are exclusively about the animals in their adventure. From Babe (1995) to Charlotte's Web (2006) to UNDERDOG (2007), there's a wide range as to how well they incorporate these aspects into their movies, whether it actually be about the animals or the animals serve as a backdrop to the humans.

There are a wide range of archetypes and variances to be found in live action talking animal movies, a rather underdeveloped field all things considered, but I do hope that people keep their minds and hearts open to discussion about this and find the movie that's right for them.

[lucky-draws]

assorted dr who thoughts after finishing the latest series:

- the 9 episode format is definitely a mistake..... it's the whole death of the filler episode thing innit. ive seen people saying that one of the downfalls of the new series was that you never really felt like ruby and the doctor actually became "best friends", because we're just told they are and not shown, and i agree with that. like i wouldn't say they didn't have chemistry or anything but it was all too rushed, there weren't enough casual/low-stakes/trivial little moments. and with dot and bubble for instance even tho it was a good episode overall i did find it weird the way they kind of just, abruptly plonked the doctor and ruby into the situation without even a minute-long tardis scene showing them actually Going to that planet and exchanging the usual doctor-companion console room banter?? like as if they were already this well established Best Friends Team Who Solve Problems? because that's the format™? idk.. a lot of this series just felt a bit off and a bit clumsy.

- i've started watching the 11th doctor recently (out of the new who doctors he's the only one i skipped until now lol), and i was watching The Lodger yesterday aka the james corden episode and like. the general silliness of that episode and the way that a lot of it was just playing around with the fact that the doctor is a Funny Alien etc and can't pretend to be human to save his life is kind of an essential ingredient to the series.....and having less episodes mean you're more likely to lose that stuff.

And while I get that 15 is supposedly a more healed version of themself thanks to 14 just um. chilling and processing their trauma, I also feel like we didn't see enough in the new series of the doctor's darkness, like the Godlike Alien Being side of them. because that's what makes them an interesting character. Like their loneliness was there and of course specifically the "timeless child" flavour of loneliness, and that does give dimension to the character but idk..... i just felt like it was all a bit too "haha we're singing and dancing and changing our outfits every episode and bringing back old companions and it's all hugs and kisses" . idk?

- having said that i did think ep 8/the first part of the finale was really strong, and id say doom and rogue were good as well.

- i don't mind ruby's mother being just a normal woman, the everyone is important/championing of Normal People philosophy is a crucial part of the show, but again i think it was all just kind of poorly executed/poorly written. if you only have 9 episodes to introduce a new doctor, new companion, and introduce and resolve a Mysterious Mystery running though the series, then the writing needs to be Very Good in order to pull it all off ........

- overall tho i did in fairness enjoy this series more than i anticipated. (the singing goblins christmas special did not fill me with high expectations lol.) ncuti is a brilliant actor and he understands the assignment, i really like him as doctor. it's just, unfortunately, as with 13, he deserves far better in terms of the writing ...

(and like i KNOW doctor who has been fucking silly and goofy forever, and every series has had its stupidity and its bad writing and its cringe moments but from the 13th doctor onwards it's just felt bad in like. a bad way lol. sometimes it's because they're trying too hard and it becomes contrived and convoluted, or sometimes it's just lazy and a lack of show don't tell . like it's all too spelled out or for want of a better word, "dumbed down". (or its just chris chibnall being chris chibnall etc.)

plus. idk. like i realise watching doctor who as an adult is different to watching it when you're younger, and watching the current series as it airs is different to rewatching series from 2 decades ago, but... idk. is 13 saying "fam" every 5 seconds objectively more cringe than 11 and his "bowties are cool" ? some may say no but.. i sort of feel like it is. there's levels and nuances to that sort of thing. tasteful cringe and annoying cringe. good cringe vs cringeworthy cringe. never be cringeworthy cringe or cowardly or whatever 12 said.

anyway. despite its flaws, this series was still fun and had enough of the Essence of dr who to not turn me off it completely, and i am looking forward to seeing more of ncuti next season. love and light

[thessalian]

Astrid vs New Friends

On a beach somewhere

Astrid: Wakey-wakey, chicken bakey?

Shadowheart: ...what?!?

Astrid: I didn't want to be shaking you or anything because you might have thought I was trying to poke your whatsit.

Shadowheart: ...Excuse me?

Astrid: Oh, no, I mean ... you're pretty but I'm all about the consent. I meant that thing. *gestures to hand clutching doohickey*

Shadowheart: *looks at doohickey in her hand* Oh! Right. That. Thank you. And for getting me out of that pod, too.

Astrid: Don't mention it. Glad you survived the crash.

Shadowheart: I ... saw you get knocked out of the front of the ship. How did you survive that fall?

Astrid: Given who you apparently worship, you'd laugh if I said "the intervention of some benevolent deity", right?

Shadowheart: Until I died.

Astrid: Good one for the laughing spell, got it.

Shadowheart: The ... laughing spell?

Astrid: Never mind. You might see it sometime ... if we're sticking together?

Shadowheart: You saved me from the pod, you respect my privacy, and you can literally insult people to death. I'm sticking with you. Plus if anyone can charm someone into helping us, it's you.

Astrid: Okay, cool! Now ... how are you on pillaging the dead? I ask because ... you know, holy person...

Shadowheart: I worship Shar.

Astrid: Okay, fair enough! Just asking! Now let's see what we can find.

A little while later, up a cliff

Shadowheart: What do you mean, we're going back for the intellect devourers?!?

Astrid: Well, neither of them was Us, and they looked hurt but I still saw them kill imps in one hit so maybe we'll get lucky and find more survivors to help.

Shadowheart: Like your githyanki friend?!?

Astrid: Iiiiiiiii don't think she and I get along very well. I don't like when people leave others to die just because, you know?

Shadowheart: Well, this is going to be grand. What, you expect someone halfway decent to fight will just step out of a wall and--

Waypoint Rune: *looks really weird*

Astrid: ...I think your god intervenes more than you think.

Gale: *sticks hand out of portal-looking waypoint* Um ... little help?

Astrid: I ... am not strong enough to pull you out of there. *touches portal* Please calm your tits.

Gale: Not in a calm place right now; and I don't have--

Astrid: Sorry, wasn't talking to you! Erm ... more specifics. Portal, please calm your tits.

Gale: ...That's ... actually helping! Just a little tug should do!

Astrid: That's what they all say, but I like a man who needs more than that to get any joy.

Gale: Wait, what?!?

Astrid: Well, that means there's a better chance of mutual joy!

Shadowheart: She's a bard. Highly optimistic and nearly sickeningly sweet bard, but still has the thing about the sex jokes.

Astrid: *pulls Gale out of wall, while giggling* There you go! Hi! I'm Astrid.

Gale: Gale of Waterdeep. Pleasure. Well, circumstances aside. I take it you know about the ceromorphosis?

Shadowheart: You know the technical name for this?

Gale: That and all the symptoms; no way to help. I don't suppose you--?

Shadowheart: Cleric. Of. Shar.

Gale: Oh. Well, if you're looking for a cure, and I'm looking for a cure, maybe we should do so together.

Astrid: So long as we can deal with any of the more ... illithid-y survivors. I don't want them killing any more of the locals.

Gale: Ah, an altruistic sort!

Shadowheart: Mm. Better than "I don't have to run faster than the abominations; I just have to run faster than you", at least. I honestly just don't want them behind us while we're looking for a cure.

Gale: Optimism and pragmatism, and I'm somewhere in the middle ... I think we'll get along just fine.

Shadowheart: Just remember we have priorities. And they are in your brain, not your pants.

Gale; Astrid: Spoilsport.

A little while later

Astarion: I found an intellect devourer and have it cornered; come kill it!

Astrid: If it's too weak to attack you, I think it'll be okay if-- *gets grabbed and floored by Astarion* Yeek!

Shadowheart: Excuse me; that is my sickeningly sweet bard and if you don't back off I will smear you across the landscape!

Gale: ...Ah, that explains the comments about priorities earlier.

Shadowheart: ...Shut up.

Astarion: Now, now, sudden moves might make me twitch and I'd like her neck intact, so--

Astrid: *head-butts him*

Astarion: OW! *reels back and lets Astrid up*

Shadowheart: I think you broke his nose. Didn't think you were strong enough for that.

Astrid: Learned that manouvre in taverns; it's a thing.

Mind-Sharing Thing: *happens*

Astarion: Oh. Right. You're in the same boat as me. Apologies.

Astrid: You're angry and scared; it happens.

Astarion: I am not scared.

Astrid: Well, since we are in the same boat, and the boat is the HMS "Turning Into A Mind Flayer"? You maybe should be.

Astarion: Oh, yes, because my turning into a monster is such a novel experience.

Astrid: ...wut.

Astarion: Never mind. Look, maybe we can control these things--

Shadowheart; Astrid; Gale: Are you stupid?!?

Astarion: *winces* ...All right, which one of you actually hurt me with that one?

Astrid: *sheepishly raises hand* Sorry. This is why I'm usually not rude to people.

Astarion: Noted. Anyway, yes, fine, getting rid of it, good plan. Are you doing that and can I join you?

Astrid: Sure! And if you still really want to kill intellect devourers--

Astarion: That was just a distraction gambit, but I suppose...

Astrid: There's a few down there.

Astarion: Oh, joy.

Later, fighting intellect devourers

Shadowheart: You know if these things hit us even once, we're dead, right?

Astrid: We'll just have to make sure you all hit first. Astarion, you're fastest of all of us, so here goes... *clears throat, pulls lute; playing and singing to the tune of Mack the Knife* "Oh the elf babe / has such teeth, dear / and he shows them / pearly white / just a dagger / has our new friend, dear / and he keeps it / out of sight--"

Gale: What the--?

Astarion: *Inspired; murdering EVERYTHING*

Shadowheart: I thought she'd insult them to death again, but this...

Astrid: "On the floor of / this weird transport / lies a brain that's / oozing life / and who's sneaking / to stab the next one / that's Astarion / with the knife..."

Gale: ...Now I want a theme tune.

Astrid: *finishes off with a flourish now that everything's dead; puts lute away* Working on it!