#i hope this is enjoyable enough in the meantime

[thegirlhoodtheory]

ode to 52 blue, 3/17/24

"The 52-hertz whale, colloquially referred to as 52 Blue, is an individual whale of unidentified species that calls at the unusual frequency of 52 hertz. This pitch is at a higher frequency than that of the other whale species with migration patterns most closely resembling the 52-hertz whale's... ts call has been detected regularly in many locations since the late 1980s and appears to be the only individual emitting a whale call at this frequency."

[causticsunshine]

.

[catscidr]

// what's the difference between scotch and whisky anyways //

i. note — /edit/ i said i would fix the formatting later and Now is later hi hellooo. sorry for not posting, i suddenly couldnt bring myself to write for more than five minutes at a time lmaoa ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) but i hope the dottore enjoyers like this at the very least. rn im working on chapter 3 of fbbts and a darker, separate dottore/reader one shot and a couple of jjk fics if anyone would even be interested in reading them lol. but in the meantime, here's drunken shenanigans ft everyone's favorite war criminal ii. includes — dottore x gn!reader, webttore (beta) and omega cameos. various mentioned harbingers iii. cw — fluff, crack sorta, alcohol stuff, dottore is ooc because he's Not Sober, everyone is clingy. fun stuff yk iv. wc — 3,5k -> ao3 link

It’s a popular stereotype that Snezhnayans are heavy drinkers, but the fact lies within the fatui. They’re shameless; whether it’s showing up to work inebriated or drinking on the job, they’ll hold onto the ‘snezhnayans have a high alcohol tolerance’ stereotype with clenched fists and a bottle at their lips. 

However, that fact only applies to the lackeys—agents that are stationed for hours on end without a break, agents that, at times, need liquid courage to face the horrors that come with the job. The Harbingers are an entirely different case. 

They balance each other, in a way. Where Tartaglia can down three shots of fire water and come out virtually unscathed, Damselette would rather not be caught within a hundred meters of a drop of alcohol. Where The Knave occasionally enjoys a glass of wine in her office, The Balladeer sneers at the choice of drink. 

None came together to go out for drinks, if not because of their job taking up a lot of time out of their days. No, none of the Harbingers were really close enough to let themselves be seen so vulnerable, if one dared drink themselves to the point of being unable to walk in a straight line. 

Thus, there had only been rumors circulating the halls of Zapolyarny palace. Hushed speculations spoken between coworkers, told with an air of excitement. No one has ever seen their Lords in a state other than wholly glorious, so it’s only human nature to wonder just what they would be like if their dignity were knocked down a peg—how they would be if they indulged in simple human vices. 

There are two kinds of Harbingers; ones that lack any rumors about their drinking habits, and ones that are so intriguing that if you were to strike up a conversation with a fatui agent, you would start theorizing about what kind of drunk they’re like before saying hello. Tartaglia and The Knave are part of the former, along with The Rooster and The Fair Lady. The latter consists of (unsurprisingly) The Balladeer, our sweet Damselette, and the two big shots at the top. 

Rumors of The Captain’s drinking habits are usually quite short-lived. People either have too much respect for him to speculate about something as childish as how he acts when he’s had too much to drink, or fear him too much to risk spreading rumors. 

But regarding The Doctor... 

It’s no secret that, even if he is eccentric and has a penchant for unconventional research methods, he has quite the loyal following. Agents will rally to defend him if they hear anyone slandering him, insisting that he’s reasonable and logical. ‘If you simply do your job, you have nothing to worry about’ is what they’d say. 

Although he’s amassed his fair share of fans within the fatui, they’re unlike The Captain’s loyal following; The Doctor’s subordinates are the first to whisper theories about their boss’ drinking habits. He’s only part human now, so maybe alcohol doesn’t affect him the way it does normal people like Tartaglia. Oh, but he seems the type to need to unwind occasionally, so maybe he has a secret stash of wine somewhere in his office? What if, in his free time, he creates various concoctions and cocktails to drink? 

Seeing as he understands science deeper than anyone else, mixology should be a walk in the park for a scientist as lucrative as him. 

Wrong. 

“Shouldn’t you be working?” 

The glare sent your way is nothing short of vicious. There stood in front of you one of his segments, the one with the infamous short fuse. “Why are you here?” 

You internalize the sigh you want to let out, deciding against making him mad when it seems he can’t even stand straight for longer than a few seconds. 

“Lord Pantalone dismissed me early.” You strategically omit why he let you go in the first place. “Where’s Prime?” 

As per anything retaining to Il Dottore, your relationship was unconventional at best. The term closest to what you were, if you wanted to describe said relationship, would be lovers—but... not quite? Still. Neither you nor Dottore cared enough to put a clear label on it, so you’ve resorted to letting people speculate— it can be quite entertaining to listen to people guess while being loud and wrong, anyways. 

You used to work under him as one of his many researchers. When you both started taking your relationship seriously, he threw in the idea of promoting you to being his personal assistant; that way he could (give you special treatment) have someone more competent than his last assistant take care of “menial tasks” like his tedious paperwork. 

You refused the generous offer, insisting that it would be unprofessional to work under him as his partner. After many late-night discussions (and stubborn headbutting of differing opinions) you both have come to an agreement in which you would work for Lord Pantalone as a financial planner. 

(You finally managed to convince him by bringing up how you could, hypothetically, pull some strings on your end in his favor—that you could persuade Pantalone to allot more funding for his research. If he had any shame left, it would have been embarrassing how quickly he shook your hand to accept your conditions.) 

Now, while you spent most of your time in an office in The Regrator’s office building near the Palace, you occasionally came by to drop off documents. Of course, you would use your short trips as an excuse to go see Dottore (even if you could do so at any time anyways, given how much authority he had.) 

However, sometimes you just want to work. 

You’ll leave the comfort of your cubicle to go see him and the extensions of himself, sure, but you still had a job to do. Papers piled up, clients grew impatient, and even your boss wasn’t immune to their nasty attitude whenever he held a meeting with a particularly irritating client. Thus, sometimes you wished you could truly focus, lose track of time and work until your wrist forced you to take a break. 

This wouldn't happen today, clearly. Seeing as one of Dottore’s lackeys rushed to your office to bring you to the Haeresys, you most likely won’t be seeing your desk until further notice. 

Now you were stuck with a cryptic Beta, trying your best to use what little knowledge about the clones’ machinery you managed to wring out of your stubborn lover. 

“Where’s Prime?” You run a hand over your wrinkled coat sleeve, keeping your voice calm and steady. Patient, else you’d be subjected to the segment’s indignation. 

“Dunno.” 

You sigh. Is he a scientist or a child? “You do know. Where is he?” 

“I told you I don’t know!” He throws his hands up, accidentally striking his mask in the way—effectively leaving it to rest at an angle on his face. Most of his mouth showed now, instead of the half you’re used to seeing. And the holes for the eyes don’t quite go where they should... 

Blinking, you take in the sight in front of you while he calms down. His crimson eyes were glassy, and his lips formed a permanent pout, vastly out of character for a segment that supposedly represented The Doctor at the most volatile stage of his life. Azure locks curled around his cheeks, though they were usually tucked out of the way. His clothes were all wrinkled, in a way that left you wondering if you shouldn’t tend to him instead. Dealing with his attitude is annoying, but it’ll be amusing to think about later, I guess. 

“Do you really not know...?” 

“No.” 

“Then, do you know why I was called to the lab?” 

“No. Yes... probably not. Uh,” he crosses his arms over his chest and loses his balance for just a second, “I think I do.” 

You raise an inquisitive brow, silently encouraging him to continue. 

“Give me a second.” Beta shuts his eyes, shoulders slumping. His mask was still crooked—you had half a mind to fix it, but held back the twitch in your fingers. After a few seconds he pipes up, uncrossing his arms to reach out to you. 

“Come.” 

The segment grabs your wrist and drags you into the hallways of the Palace, ignoring your yelp of surprise and the stares of various agents lingering in the halls. You pass by ornate statues and paintings, the sight more unfamiliar than not. 

“Beta, where are we-” 

“Hush, I can’t walk when you’re talking my ear off.” 

...Right. Something is definitely wrong. 

After about five minutes of running around like headless chickens you tug your arm back, making Beta turn around indignantly. You lift your hands up in front of you before he can speak. 

“Did you mean to bring me to Lady Signora’s office?” you ask, lips curled up into a small smile seeing his mask still laid crooked on his face. With a gentle hand you fix it, cold fingers grazing his burning cheek. 

“...” 

Beta’s brows furrow as he avoids your gaze, huffing dramatically. Poor guy, you mused. 

“Alright, let’s go to the lab, then. He must be there, right? Where was Prime last time you saw him?” 

“...his office, probably,” he murmurs. 

With a nod and a smile akin to someone doing some gentle parenting, you place a hand on his back and help guide him to Haeresys. The stairs were hard to walk down, but with just a bit of patience and a bit of Beta clutching your arm while shouting that you were trying to assassinate him, you make it down in one piece. 

You remove your gloves and place your palm into the scan, then input the lengthy password to open the laboratory’s large doors. They slide open, revealing the absence of normal researchers and noise. You spot Omega standing over the remains of a ruin machine with a clipboard in his hands and look back towards Beta. 

“Go sit, I’ll go ask Omega about Prime’s whereabouts.” 

The clone nods, trudging his legs along to lay down on the leather couch tucked away in the lab. 

As you put away your large coat and hang it up in the small rack near the doors and make your way towards Omega, you notice the slow rhythm of his handwriting—when he’s usually seemingly speedrunning writing down notes, he’s now leisurely writing away, unaware of your presence. 

“Omega.” 

The latter turns to you, masking his surprise with a small smile instead. “My dear,” he practically purrs, putting away the clipboard in a swift movement, placing the pen in his coat pocket. 

“I was alerted that something was... off, with Prime. Do you know where he is?” 

And where you thought Omega would pick up on Beta’s lack of decorum, you were sorely mistaken. The clone walks up to you with that same smile brightening his features, placing both hands on your shoulders oh so gently. 

“He’s in his office. But enough about him, I haven’t seen you in a while, beloved. Why must you keep me away from you?” he muses, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You tilt your head to avoid being stabbed by his mask’s beak, raising your hands to press against his chest to make some distance. The action proved to be futile, of course. 

We saw each other yesterday, you murmur. “I’m sorry, I’ll get back to you in a moment, alright?” You offer him a warm smile in hopes that he’ll listen, seeing as he seemed to be quite... mushy. 

It works, and he lets you go with a curt nod, retreating to go... somewhere. You didn’t linger around long enough to figure it out, since you knew where to go now. 

Walking across the lab, you note how things seemed to be more out of place than usual. It couldn’t have been a researcher, they always had to clean up after themselves, courtesy of their boss. So, the mess had to be caused by them... 

You finally stand in front of his door, raising a fist to knock. A yelp leaves you as you’re whisked away, the door slamming shut just as quickly as it swung open. 

“Dottor-” 

“Can you fucking believe how inept these agents are? They dare speak to me with such disrespect after delivering the lousiest job I’ve ever seen.” Dottore rambles, pulling you deeper into his office. You observe the state of his workspace, namely the papers scattered onto the ground and the... bottlecap on the floor, right next to his trashcan filled with crumpled up paper...? 

“Showing up in the lab with their damn hands empty save for the half empty bottle of scotch they tried to hide. Idiots were too shitfaced to notice how I noticed.” 

“Okay, Dottore, what are you-” 

He gestures wildly as he speaks, his hands the only way for you to read him as his mask hid most of his features. The blue lines taunt you; though you’re tempted to take it off, you feel like he might just lunge at you if you did. 

“And then they had the gall to insist that the bottle was theirs when I confiscated it.” Dottore pushes you down to sit on the couch, a small oof leaving you in consequence. “Anything that enters this fucking lab belongs to me, I’m the boss, I decide what flies and what does not.” 

Absolutely unaware of your muffled giggles as you piece things together, he keeps ranting, turning his back to you as he stomps away towards his desk. “Not to mention these damn lackeys have had multiple warnings up until now,” he spits out. “Lord Harbinger, we’re sorry! We’ll clean up the lab to make up for this offense! Lord Harbinger, it won’t happen again! Who do they take me for, a moron?!” 

The higher pitch he uses to imitate (and make fun of) the agents almost makes you lose it. But you keep your composure, sitting demurely, listening. 

Dottore comes back with a bottle in hand, orange liquid swirling around the thick glass as he stumbles closer to where you sat. He joins you without warning, creating a dip in the sofa next to you—almost forcing you to lean onto him for support. His free arm drapes over the back as he sighs loudly, making you stifle a laugh behind your hand. 

A pregnant pause stretches between the two of you as his anger simmers down to embers. You lean forward, attempting to take a look at the label on the bottle in his hand. 

“What’re you holding there, love?” you ask sweetly. Glancing up you’re able to steal a peek at his eyes from underneath his dark mask—Archons was he absolutely gone. 

It takes him a second to respond, almost as if he forgot you were even there in the first place. 

“Whisky.” 

“I thought it was scotch.” 

“Same thing.” 

“No it isn’t.” 

“Yes it is.” 

“No it’s n-” 

“It is.” 

Maybe it wasn't the brightest thing to do, messing with him while he’s this inebriated. But it sure was entertaining. 

“Alright. Well, how much did you drink?” 

“A sip or two.” 

As if on cue, he brings the bottle up to his lips and takes a swig. Your grin widens, thoroughly entertained by the show; who else had the privilege of seeing The Doctor so drunk he could barely formulate something that made sense? 

You bring his attention back on you as you place a hand on his knee, leaning close. Dottore immediately snaps into place, gaze flickering down to your lips from the proximity. 

With a swift hand you grab the scotch from his hands, inspecting the amount still left in the bottle. If he said it was half empty when he confiscated it, then... 

“Dearest, did you drink a quarter of this bottle?” You're not even supposed to drink it straight from the bottle, either is what you wished to add, but seeing how defensive he was already, you figured it would just make things more complicated than they needed to be.

As if stung by the Tsaritsa’s delusion, he immediately stiffens and defends himself. “I did not, I told you I only had a sip.” 

The way his bottom lip jutted out was almost cute, if you dared to describe him in such a way. Compliments could wait though; you had answers to seek. 

“Mhm, a sip. Well,” you put the bottle down on a coaster on the coffee table and turn to face him properly, “what happened to the segments? They’re all a little... woozy.” Your fingers trail his arm, tracing circles in their wake. 

Dottore swallows, Adam's apple bobbing as he opens his mouth to speak. “We’re connected, albeit loosely. They could be affected by the few sips of scotch I drank, though I would have some work cut out for me if that were the case. I can’t let them be so weak after all.” 

The way he spoke sounded, for lack of better words, pouty. 

Was he... sulking? 

“And since we’re connected, I know you spoke to Beta ‘n Omega earlier.” 

He most definitely is. He's even slurring his words, now...

“Yeah? I was asking them where you were so I could check up on you, baby.” You chuckle softly, taking the liberty of putting his mask away. Bright, glassy red eyes stare down into you, and you hold back the urge to smother his face in kisses. 

“You didn’t have to talk to them, you could have just asked me.” 

“I was looking for you, so I couldn’t have.” 

“Why not?” 

You scoff, smiling as you adjust yourself on the couch. Dottore notices and takes the liberty of pushing you down, laying his head down so his ear is on your chest, cheek pressed up into you. “I’m sorry, I’ll ask you next time,” you respond. 

That satisfies him, enough to render him silent for a handful of seconds before he speaks up again. 

“...I need to get back to work,” he huffs. 

You bring a hand up and run it through his disheveled locks, careful not to tug at the small knots in the hair at the back of his neck. Twirling the hair of his mullet you hum, noting how his weight seemed to grow heavier as the seconds passed. No way is he going to get any work done if he falls asleep here. 

“Take a break, you deserve it. In the meantime, you can think of a suitable way to punish those stupid agents from earlier, right?” 

A quiet hum is all you get in response. You look down expecting to see his unnerving red eyes to be staring up at you, but you’re met with the sight of his features completely lax instead. Azure hair pools around his face, settling on your chest where his face rose in time with your breaths. 

You would have dimmed the lights and turned off his computer if you knew he was going to keep you hostage on the couch. Though you can’t really complain at the turn of events; it’s rare for Dottore to be the one to initiate skinship in the relationship. 

It was quiet, but you managed to hear the low dear? that left his lips. You hum, not wanting to speak as to not break the quiet atmosphere lulling you to a sense of peace. 

After a minute of silence, you decide to repeat yourself—this time a little louder than before. “What is it?” 

Another minute passes, just as quiet as the last. The sound of his slow, deep breaths fills the room, accompanied by the low scratches of your nails on his scalp. His hair parts where your fingers tread through it, and you quietly note that you should trim his hair soon. 

Il Dottore’s poor alcohol tolerance will always be a mystery to the public, because there’s no way you would ever let anyone in on the way he cuddles up to you when he’s had too much to drink. 

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hello, I hope you are having a good day or night so far. I just wanted to ask if the monster!au pregnancy fic is still on the table or if it's making your brain unhappy and needs to go on the shelf to think about what it's done?

Either way is fine The most important thing is your mental health. *Finger guns*

Hey! I'm doing okay for the most part. Work and life in general has just been busy as heck, so I've been just working on art and writing for personal enjoyment.

The fic is still coming along well enough! I just wound up having to rewrite from the beginning to get a better flow, and now I'm just dealing with some of the boys being jerks and not cooperating with me 😂 But I am going to be triumphant soon enough! I only have three of the dorm reactions to go before the inevitable chaos. >v>

And just so you guys know, this currently has 9 pages worth of words (size 9 font, by the way), and I'm still not done. This thing is going to be LOOOOOONG compared to some of my other chapters I've posted! 😂

I appreciate the understanding, but not to worry! It's just my perfectionist editing mind that keeps stalling me 😒 But just to show you that progress is being made, I've attached a snippet I've written of a scene that I wanted to add!

Hope you all enjoy, and I'm excited to get closer and closer to finishing it! ÙvÚ

////SNIPPET STARTS BELOW////

It was late at night when Jamil was working in the school cafeteria, requiring the ingredients in the kitchen to make a late night meal for Kalim since the dorm’s kitchen needed a few repairs. The pans sizzled and pots boiled as he stirred and cooked, his hands moving with speed and precision honed by years of cooking. Despite it being late at night, part of him did appreciate the time alone from the dorm to think in private.

Taking a sip of the broth, he hummed in thought before adding some spices to the soup. Just as he was about to sample it again, his ear twitched when he heard movement behind him and turned. “Miss Yuu?” he asked, surprised to see Yuu standing there holding a plate to her chest. By now she was in her eighth month of pregnancy, her stomach swollen to the size of a large watermelon. “What are you still doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said sheepishly. “Since the due date is getting closer, the researchers moved me to a new room here in the school just in case. It’s easier for them to get to me here than it is to Ramshackle. So I thought walking around a little would help, but then I smelled something good and…well…”

When she hesitated, he asked, “Pregnancy cravings again?”

She nodded. He hummed in thought. Apparently human cravings during pregnancy was no different than how monsters would instinctively do the same to sustain themselves and their unborn children. “A lack of food sources can have a negative effect the body,” one researcher explained once when he’d been passing by the infirmary during one of Yuu’s exams. “Whether human or monster, if the expecting mother doesn’t eat enough to sustain the pregnancy or produce the milk needed to feed the baby, her body will begin to take its own nutrients. This can be dangerous and increase the risk of her breaking her bones, so that’s why it’s important to ensure Yuu has an ample supply of food at her disposal at such a critical stage.”

Knowing this, Jamil held out his hand and smiled. “The soup isn’t done yet, but you can have some of the main dish in the meantime,” he told her, dishing out the food from the skillet. “It’s a simple meal from the Land of Scalding Sands, but I know Kalim wouldn’t mind sharing it with you.” With a deadpan smile, he said, “In fact, he’d insist on it if he were here.”

“Thank you so much!” she said, accepting the offered plate and pausing to breathe in the aroma. He could practically see her drooling before she dug in, happily humming as she sat in the nearby stool. “Oh my gosh, this is so good…can you teach me how to make this?”

“Sure,” he said with a genuine smile. “I know you can’t control your cravings, so if you ever want more, just let me know.”

“Thank you!”

They spent some time casually chatting as the soup finished cooking, the gorgon feeling at ease around her. By the time the soup was done and he’d put some in a container for her, he handed another plate of the main dish to her and bid her good night. As she waddled away, he couldn’t shake the image of a penguin returning triumphantly from a hunt and stifled a snort of amusement.

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

*slams hands on table*

HELLO FELLOW MEDWHUMP/SICKFIC ENJOYER.

Got a prompt for ya. Apologies if it's something you've already done. ^^;

Intubated whumpee waking up from either a coma or surgery, fighting the breathing tube, and caretaker attempting to calm them down.

GO. 💜

Caretaker sits at Whumpee's bedside, brow furrowed with unease as they stroke Whumpee's sweat damp hair. A few days ago now, Whumpee underwent major surgery, and since then they've been here, in the ICU, intubated and sedated. Caretaker wonders whether they're even aware of anything that's happened.

For a while, Caretaker watches the regular condensation misting the inside of the breathing tube, every so often glancing over at the monitor denoting Whumpee's condition. The even peaks and troughs of the EKG are reassuring to a certain extent, as are the waveforms that show Whumpee's breathing pattern, but when paired with how lifeless Whumpee looks in the bed, hooked up to so many wires and tubes, it's hard to feel comforted.

As Caretaker brushes back a strand of hair from Whumpee's forehead, though, something changes. Whumpee's brow knits in discomfort, and when Caretaker reaches for Whumpee's hand, they feel their fingers twitching beneath the weight of the sedation. It was only a matter of time. They started lowering the sedation this morning.

"Whumpee? Hey, it's only me. You're okay. Just relax, sweetheart."

The peaks and troughs on the EKG grow more frequent, a few alarms blaring every so often. Whumpee shifts, weakly lifting a trembling hand as if to move it towards their throat, but Caretaker takes it instead, lowering it gently back towards the sheets and shushing Whumpee softly.

"Easy... easy, Whumpee. I'm here. I'm here."

At last, Whumpee fights hard enough to open their eyes, albeit half-mast. The expression within them is dulled by the cocktail of medications they're on, but even so, the fear shines through the exhaustion. Their eyes track across Caretaker's face, searching desperately for explanation.

Caretaker shuffles forward in their chair, gripping Whumpee's hand, thumb drifting across the back of it, while their other hand continues to stroke Whumpee's hair in what they hope is a reassuring motion.

"Hey, it's okay. You've had surgery, alright? Pretty major surgery. You've been asleep for a couple of days while they monitored you, but you're waking up now, and you're doing so well."

Whumpee's throat bobs, and as they blink, wincing slightly, Caretaker can tell they're uncomfortable. It's no surprise when they weakly try to lift that isn't restrained to their throat yet again, heart rate still elevated.

The alarming of the monitor, though, seems to have attracted the attention of a nurse. She approaches, smiling faintly, and watches the screen for a few seconds before moving to Whumpee's side, squeezing their shoulder.

"Whumpee? I'm one of your nurses, okay? I'm here to make sure you're as comfortable as possible. Right now, the tube is helping you breathe properly, because you've been quite sick and weren't able to manage your airway well. I promise we'll take it out as soon as possible."

Whumpee closes their eyes, nostrils flaring.

Caretaker turns to the nurse.

"Is everything okay?"

"It's all as expected- they're bucking the tube a little, but that's normal when they're just starting to wake up. We can give them some muscle relaxants to make things easier in the meantime, and hopefully soon we'll be able to extubate- to take the tube out."

Caretaker sighs with relief as the nurse gives them a small smile, moving from the room to fetch the medications. They move closer to Whumpee again, still rhythmically stroking their hair.

"Hear that, Whumpee? Everything's going as expected. You're doing so well. I know you must be uncomfortable right now, but things'll feel better soon, I promise. Just try to relax."

Whumpee nods ever so slightly, a small tear escaping from beneath closed eyelids and snaking its way down their cheek. Caretaker wipes it away, careful not to disturb the sticky patches holding the tube in place.

"I know, sweetheart, I know." They squeeze Whumpee's hand, tears welling in their own eyes when Whumpee squeezes back. "I'm right here with you. You're okay."

And slowly but surely, the rapid beeping of the monitors begins to slow again.

[breakyourrxles]

『atarashī 』 ; 02

❝ something brewing ❞ | mlist  ｡

student!hongjoong x fem!reader, husband!yeosang x fem!reader — drama, dark romance, mystery, heavy sexual content [4,5k wc] ch cws: talks of pregnancy, trying for a baby, and some of the deeply inherent societal misogyny that can come along with that for women of a certain age.

"When do you think you're coming home?"

With a glass of red wine in hand and winding down from a long week of work, you lean into the cabinet of your kitchen—a forkful of fried rice shoveled into your mouth after the sentence leaves it and your phone set atop the counter—the often missing husband on speaker from the other end.

"Hard to say, might be a few more days to get some paperwork settled, I have a couple more meetings I need to attend and then who knows what might pop up in the meantime, between all of that. You know I miss you, right?"

In theory, yes, you do.

But you don't want to fight, don't want to turn this evening into another one that ends up like so many others, like your birthday days ago. So, you fight back the disappointed sigh, force a chipperness to your voice that probably sounds fake even to the man on the other line, if he knows you as well as he should by now.

"I know you do, I miss you too. I love you."

"I love you too. Enough about my work, how is the new bunch of art hipsters?"

You take a hefty swig of your drink.

"Same as always, I'd say. There's a few that seem really promising already, a couple of the actors are incredibly impressive, one reminds me of my grandmother, actually. I hope she sticks with it, especially."

Yeosang huffs out a laugh on the other end, as if amused by the thought of it.

"Any problem children this year?"

Another mouthful of food down and a shrug that you know your conversation partner can't even see, you answer.

"I don't think so. There's one guy who can't seem to get it together enough to close it out, bombed out of a bunch of other schools in what would appear to be spectacular fashion, but I don't think he's going to be a problem to anyone except for himself. It's really no skin off of mine nor the Akademiya's back if he can't focus enough to graduate."

"Maybe he just needs some inspiration," Yeosang says, though there's a pointed mischievousness to his tone that makes his intent in saying such a thing evident before even going as far as to explicitly say as much. "Maybe he'll like to take you as his muse."

"And I'm sure you would find that just so amusing, wouldn't you?" you jokingly reply back. "Painfully cliché, isn't it? Besides being a happily married woman, I have no interest in fraternizing with the students of the Akademiya, I would imagine it to be largely frowned upon."

"I would imagine so, though equally as much desired by some as a result of that. Don't you silly, artsy types enjoy those sorts of clichés more often than not anyway?"

Yeosang says it in a way that's meant to be comically enjoyed by the both of you; a cute banter between husband and wife, though it always comes off as anything but to you. A point of contention in your relationship for as long as you can remember, your husband's unwillingness to relent as far as his perceived pointlessness of the arts as a whole—the irony embedded within then—when he decided upon marrying a woman so devout to them.

Something that over the years fell to the wayside, however, and you can't quite parse through how much of it has been on account of yourself, or on account of his disapproval of it. Never any outright condemnation of your enjoyment, but equally as much unwilling to ever make himself available to you in such a way.

Silly, artist types, as he would always call them. Not to be taken seriously, not to be regarded as anything more than children now existing well into adulthood but unwilling to cast aside the immaturity that still resides deep within them.

And so, cast it aside you have. Buried deep down, not to be revisited. To be ignored completely and forever.

"Yes, well," you start, pouring yourself another glass of wine, this one fuller than the last. "We do, but not when it results in undesired, real world consequences. I have no inkling of desire for a student five years my junior and with little to nothing going for him."

"You know, speaking of," Yeosang says then, a change of subject sitting at the tip of his tongue. "I've been thinking that maybe it's about time we start trying for a baby."

Your blood runs cold at the mere mention of it, frozen in place and almost certain that you've heard wrong. Surely not.

He must pick up on the hesitation despite the very few seconds of silence that pass through the line. You hear him sigh—like he's disappointed in the fact that you're not jumping at the potential opportunity—which dumbfounds you, because why on earth would you?

"It's been seven years now, I just thought—" he pauses, probably rethinking the course of his thoughts before picking back up again and deciding against the topic entirely. "You know what, forget it. We'll talk about it another time."

"Sorry, I was just...surprised. You brought it up so suddenly."

"It shouldn't be sudden given how long we've been married. We were meant to be on the same page about this. You're thirty now, I'm not saying that you're running out of time but—"

But he is.

You close your eyes, try to pretend that this isn't happening right now with another long sip of wine. Why on earth would you be jumping at the chance to have a baby, knowing perfectly well that in doing so you would effectively be rendered to paid-for-single-motherhood with the frequency in which your husband is not around.

The thought of it makes your skin crawl. You can't say that, however. There's a lot of things that you simply cannot say to him.

"I know, we should talk about it when you're home though. Over a nice dinner and a bottle of wine, perhaps?"

"Are either of those things likely to have you getting off of your birth control?"

You've been here before: the dead end of any particular conversation topic with Yeosang. Where further discussion on the matter nearly impossible to reach any sort of positive result. Best to back down now, nothing good will come of the rest of your evening over the phone together.

"I'm going to head into the office early tomorrow to get a little bit of extra paperwork done, still a lot of small things that need to be done around the theater hall," you say. It's not entirely a lie—fully intending to do just that—but more than anything and most importantly, it's an excuse for you to end the phone call. "I should probably get to bed."

"Yeah, me too. I'll call you tomorrow when I have some time. Get some rest, I love you."

You say you love him back, but in times like this, you aren't quite sure what the words are meant to feel like anymore.

Nine in the morning echoes through the narrow, ornate halls of the theater building—an otherwise quiet emptiness that emanates around you on account of the students' typical disinterest in being there on the weekends. You understand the feeling well, though often unable to turn yourself off in quite the same way.

Balancing a small stack of papers and folders in your arms, you make your way towards your office. Phone calls to make, contractors to meet, signatures to sign—another full day of mundane tasks ahead of you with little to no reprieve in sight.

Dull. A lifeless existence you've resigned yourself to over the years; tending to a building that most lack care for, little to discuss with anyone most nights, and especially not your husband.

Amid quick strides across vermillion carpet, as you pass one of the closed doors to a smaller theater room—a small noise heard within, like a conversation being held between people. Words spoken and muffled by the large, wooden doors; you can't make them out even when you pause and press your ear closer towards it, but more than that comes to shock at someone else being on the premises aside from yourself.

You inch closer yet, slowly, and just before your head makes contact with the obstruction, it opens.

A cuss escapes you on account of the impact—it's sudden and hard enough that it has you stumbling back and dropping the handful of things that you've been carrying—papers scattering, you hissing, and the sound of a man hurriedly rushing to your aid in the aftermath of the flurry.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"

You rub your forehead with your palm, wince at the pain, crack your eyes open finally to see who it is that you have to wish only the worst things upon for having you end up like this.

He reaches out toward you, albeit awkwardly, unsure of what to do to help. While your vision focuses on him, he instead must decide on gathering your things—it's more helpful, surely.

"I didn't think anyone else was here, I was told no one else was here on the weekends."

"Yeah, well," you groan first, finally focusing on the sight of Hongjoong finishing his self-imposed task and then settling on his knees before you. "Typically there's no students here on the weekends. What are you doing here, anyway?"

Handing you the stacks of papers, Hongjoong smiles. As if knowing something that you do not.

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

You glance up at him through your eyelashes, meet his eyes for a long moment and then bring yourself back up to your feet. He follows suit, watching you all the while.

"I would hardly call it eavesdropping when I'm the one tasked with making sure this place stays up and running. If I hear something suspicious, then I'm going to investigate it."

His smile widens.

"Was met with a sudden wave of inspiration for a garment, I don't have a dress form at home, and I was told that this space is available whenever to students. So, I came."

There's a few beats of silence that wash over the both of you—eyes glued to each other’s as if engaging in an unspoken game of chess. The first to relent unabashedly the loser, though you're not quite sure what winning might entail either.

You clear your throat, the weight of his gaze upon you feeling heavier and heavier with each passing second. Shuffle where you stand, dropping your eyes to the floor.

But you can feel that he is still watching you.

"Is that not true?" he asks, a hinting in his tone indicating that he knows the answer already.

"It is, you are welcomed to come and go as you please as a student of the Akademiya."

"Perfect," Hongjoong replies, airy, plain lips still painted with a slight smile. "Are you interested in costuming?"

The sudden tangent takes you by surprise, becoming painfully aware of the weight of the items still hanging in your arms as you give your brain a moment to play catch up with all of the bizarre things that seem to be unfolding around you. Frankly, if you didn't know any better—you might think the guy to be lightly flirting with you.

Hongjoong seems to notice as much, reaches out to take the stack once again and instead of holding onto it, sets the pile onto a stray chair that's hanging in the hallway just beside them.

"Lemmie show you something."

His hand reaches out behind himself—fingers brushing against your own in an effort to guide—you pull away just after, creating space between you even though you accept the invitation to follow him through the doorway and inside of the room. It's small, much smaller than the others that line the halls, and little more resides inside other than a dress form with fabrics draped over it, numerous swatches decorating a handful of chair-tops, and a large sketchbook sitting open in full display on the embarrassingly dirty floor.

Something that must have slipped past you in your attempt to tidy up the place for the school year ahead, you apologize to him for the inconvenience—tell him that you'll have it taken care of today—though he seems none bothered by the fact at hand.

Hongjoong's hair is cleaner today, more finely cared for and parted down the middle. Brushed, better put together than how he typically presents during the school week. Clean, fitted jeans and a nice blazer over his shirt. It's nothing fancy, but he looks nice.

"You didn't answer my question, by the way," he says suddenly, your attention snapping back to him and out of your thoughts about him. "About costuming."

"Oh, right," you acknowledge, though your attention is split between the conversation and any other tasks that may need taking care of. "A little bit. It's not something I've ever given a lot of attention to I suppose."

Hongjoong glances over his shoulder at that, seemingly amused by it. "Acting then?"

"Painting, actually."

"Ah," he sighs, bending down to the floor and picking up his sketchbook. He hands it to you. "Done anything in this place?"

Taking the large book of paper from him, you look up at him, then glance down towards it.

"A couple of things, though you'd never know it."

Hongjoong's attention to you falls away once again, hands reaching up to wind into the fabrics pinned onto the white dress form that stands in the middle of the room—back to work, as if you're not even there at all. In that time, you flip through a couple of pages of what he has given you; drawings and loose, messy sketches adorning the papers in numerous colors and outlines, but always beautifully connecting into something that shines against the bland background.

You blink a couple of times, in something of a bit of shock at what you're seeing. You glance up towards him once again—none of his attention given towards you or what you may think of his work—hands still busy winding, pinning and tying in front of him.

"These are good," you say, quietly, not wanting to interrupt his process. "Really good. How is it that—"

You catch yourself halfway through the thought, curse yourself for having even started to say it as you continue to look at him and the way his eyes sling to the side to meet yours.

"That I've not managed to graduate yet?"

"I'm sorry—"

Hongjoong laughs, takes a pause from his work and shakes his head. "It's okay, it's a fair enough question."

Waltzing across the path that separates the both of you and stepping over a small collection of fabric swatches, Hongjoong takes the sketchbook back from your hands, glances through a couple of the pages himself as if not having seen the things that rest inside for himself in quite some time. A trip down memory lane, as it would seem, and a small glimmer of what one might read as hope sparkling in his eyes as he looks at what he's done throughout the years.

"I wouldn't say that the issue is so much my talent; my raw, innate ability to create, to make something beautiful. Attention to detail, finding the divinity in something—or creating it—has never been the problem. Rather, there's probably a part of me that's absolutely terrified of the commitment of moving onto another chapter of my life."

You smile, let out a small laugh at it all. "That's a lot of words to say you're a commitmentphobe."

He shrugs. "Change is scary, unless it's temporary enough that the only thing that results from it is blowing up some major facet of my life."

"I'm sure your girlfriend loves that," you joke in response. Both of your eyes meet after, Hongjoong sets the sketchbook down onto the floor and slowly makes his way back to his work at the dress form as you continue to fumble over your words. "Or boyfriend, or whatever."

"Don't have one," Hongjoong says, sticking a pin between his teeth to hold onto. His eyes narrow then in a way that you've become bizarrely accustomed to in such a short amount of time spent with him—devilish, something lightheartedly coy and almost flirtatious in delivery. "What about you? Betrothed to anyone or just this place?"

"Married, actually," you reply, an uncomfortable tremble to your voice. Hongjoong's unrelenting stare remains steadfast on you all the while. Little time passing but feeling like far more. "Not to this place, to a man."

"That's good, I'd be worried for you if you weren't seeing anyone or anything but this building."

"Yeah, well, my husband spends most of the year traveling for business so—" you pause, close your eyes and re-center yourself. "Sorry, not really appropriate conversation to be having with students, is it?"

Hongjoong chuckles under his breath, still tending to his craft and seemingly wholly unbothered by the topic brought before him.

"Well, you're not my professor, you don't even work for the Akademiya, and thus I'm not your student," he pauses again, pulls a pin from between his teeth and sticks it into a fold of blue chiffon. "Besides, I'm twenty-five, you don't exactly have to shield my young, innocent eyes from the horrors of adult relationships. My parents are divorced, I've been through a fair share of my own in the meantime."

Silence takes the room then, and while you grant yourself some time to watch the man earnestly tend to his artistic craft, it's not long until you remember the fact that you have tasks that require your attention today as well.

"I've got to get going, I have work to do."

The man doesn't reply, another fold of blue chiffon pinned to the dress form as you bid him farewell.

Later that evening, the wind blows cold through the moistened streets of the city as you make your way through winding passages of parked vehicles and unpleasantly placed construction signs. The misplaced leaves blow violently around you, lodged in your hair and stuck to your coat before you're able to finally make your way to the destination that awaits you.

Seonghwa stands just out front of the dimly lit bar like a beacon of comfort, a soft smile greeting you once you bring yourself up the steps and inside of the building with the door held open by him.

Inside, the warmth of a fireplace and a small amount of other patrons welcomes you in much of the same way that your friend just had. Your first time here, though you're already pleased by the sights of a candlelit ambiance and intricate, decorative little knickknacks all lining the walls for as far as the eye can see. To some perhaps it is crowded, overbearing—but for you, it feels right at home.

"Weather is horrid," Seonghwa says as he slips ahead, motions for you to follow him towards one of the tables at the back of the room. "Hadn't planned for that when I asked you if you'd like to come out."

The two of you sit and a member of the staff is quick to come and take your orders, disappearing just as swiftly as they had come.

"It's okay, I needed the distraction anyway, I've been bogged down with work back at Aurelia. I'm still not quite sure how so many things break down in the small time between semesters."

"It's an old building," Seonghwa begins, cut off by the waitstaff returning with your drinks then carrying on with the thought again. "Things are going to break, unfortunately. Speaking of, how are the new underlings?"

You laugh at the nickname given to the students, as if they are your own and thus under your thumb. Coffee mug in hand, you take a sip and look carefully to Seonghwa across the table—studying his face as if in search of something. He notices it, features twisting into confusion and reels back slightly.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"We've been friends for a long time, right? I can...talk to you about things."

He glances around the both of you, still searching for something and nothing all at once. The answers to the question and what's going on at this table, presumably, he won't find them though. "Yes? Why?"

You set your mug down, lean forward across the table a little bit more to close the wide distance between both of you.

"There's one student, a costuming major—"

"A man?"

"Yes."

Seonghwa flinches visibly at the reply.

"I think he's taken some sort of...particular interest in me, for some reason." You take another sip from your mug and watch on, awaiting a response from the man across the way.

He takes a few seconds of silence, thinking over what you've said most likely. His eyes drop to look down into the liquid of his glass, and then flicker up to meet your expectant ones.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Sighing, you lean back into your chair lazily. "I don't know, I think it's intriguing. I don't know why he would, but he is fascinating."

A single eyebrow quirks up on Seonghwa's face. "Does he know that you're married?"

Part of you wonders if he's asking you, or reminding you of the fact.

"Yes, I told him as much."

"Did he seem to...care much for that?"

"In what way is he meant to care for it?"

To that, Seonghwa sighs heavily—pulls himself forward across the table much like you had only moments before and laces his fingers together like a man intent of delivering an important presentation of some sort. Or perhaps lecture is a better, more apt word.

"In much of the same way that you are. I know that with Yeosang gone much of the time it gets lonely and the prospect of new and exciting attention is likely nothing short of intoxicating, but the stakes are rather low for whoever this student is—" Seonghwa pauses, allowing the emphasis on that particular word to sink in even further before carrying on. "It's probably not a good idea to pay it much mind."

"Are you done?" you ask. Pointed, annoyed but not wanting to let it show in a way that may sour the mood of the evening any more than Seonghwa has already allowed for. "I said that I found it intriguing, not that I was considering slipping between the sheets with him, my God."

It feels as though the entire room quiets once the two of you finish with those words shared. Seonghwa leans back in his chair again, takes his glass into his hands and brings it up to his lips before muttering his apologies through it and towards you.

"I'm sorry, it's just that as your friend I know how difficult the past few years have been for you—with your job, with your marriage—it's easy to let things slip through the cracks once they're there at all. I wasn't saying it as a judgement upon you."

You blink slowly, frown at him and reach a hand across the table in request for his own. He's fast to take it, curling your lips pleasantly the other way.

"I know. Truthfully, I look at the guy more as a little excitement in my life; like visiting the pet store and watching the bunnies hop around knowing full well that you have no intention of taking one home."

Seonghwa laughs at the comparison. "Does he know that he's a bunny in your life?"

"I don't think he thinks he's anything in my life, and he would be right about that."

Nodding in acceptance of the answer, the waitstaff come with a small loaf of cut, buttered garlic bread in a wicker basket for snacking. You're quick to take one into hand, Seonghwa a bit slower, still with more on his mind to question you with.

"How is Yeosang, anyway? Still gone I presume?"

You nod much in the same way. "He doesn't know when he's going to be able to come home, nothing unusual there, I suppose. Actually, he recently brought up something..."

Words trailing off into nothingness at the end, it piques Seonghwa's curiosity just that much more than it normally might. He takes a bite into the bread, mumbles through a full mouth.  "Brought up what?"

"That he wants to start trying for a baby soon."

Seonghwa reels—lip turning upwards into an ugly sight as if the very thought of it disgusts him.

"A baby? He's never even here, what's he want to have a baby for?"

Your demeanor gives off a silent understanding of I know, right? but you offer him a verbal reply along with it.

"That's sort of how I feel about it."

"That's the most insane thing I've ever heard," he says, taking another bite of the snack food in hand. "Guy spends maybe a quarter of the year at most in the city and he wants to get you pregnant. For what?"

The question isn't intended for you, not exactly. It's intended for a man who is not there to answer it—expelled into the ether with no hopes of a response—not that you nor Seonghwa think you will be sated by any possible reply that you could come by.

"Well, you didn't ask, but don't do that. I'm not really up for playing husband like I know I'd get stuck doing in the event of you getting pregnant."

You roll your eyes. "But playing husband comes with so many perks."

"College was a long time ago," Seonghwa replies, knowingly perfectly well the implications of your past together with him that you are alluding to. "I had my fill of you then, you're of far more use to me not on your back."

Feigning an offended gasp, you halfheartedly toss a napkin across the table at him—the both of you laughing.

"Seriously though, Yeosang needs to spend more time home and fucking you. If you're coming onto me again, and being woo'd by a young twenty-something student from the Akademiya then there's a lot of problems going on within the marital residence."

"I wouldn't sleep with you again if I was injected with poison through my cunt and the only antidote was kept in your dick," you insist plainly enough, and now he is the one drowning in pretend-hurt from across the way.

Leaning over the table again, Seonghwa smirks at you—looking positively evil over the flickering of candlelight that resides beneath him and in the middle of the table.

"Ah, but if it's in an Akademiya student’s dick, well then—"

Fingers dipped in your water glass and quickly flicked into the face of your best friend, he flinches with shock at what you've done to him—how could you—he hatefully whispers through a laugh that you both carry between yourselves.

Unlikely that you're to live this one down, that much is for certain.

a/n: ah geez the trouble is brewing! enjoy the calm before the storm yall because it’s gonna get crazy and fast. if you have stuff to discuss, my ask box is the best way and i’m always happy to talk about the stories and characters! other than that, hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading, and see you next time!

[sgiandubh]

The sound of silence

With the end of August already in sight - somebody, please, tell me where did this botched summer go, all of a sudden? -, a somewhat different landscape is slowly emerging, on the S&C front.

Dare we hope? The new normal seems to be a mix of latergrams, sibylline tweets, ultra-muted innuendo (most of it the result of a couple of pundits' sterile speculations on meagre hints dropped on purpose) and secondary (even third-circle) players being conveniently called to the rescue. A low budget, almost homemade solution to keep the prayer wheels of this fandom spinning. A fandom both of these two know, by now, like the back of their hands.

For months and months in a row, I tried to understand something that puzzled me constantly: not the messages being ventilated in here, but their circuit and lifespan, if you want. For what is worth, the rinse and repeat image is fine in my book, but in no way comprehensive, nor intellectually satisfying. And then, a couple of weeks ago, I started to suddenly figure it out.

I am not going to insult you with savant jargon or Venn diagrams, rest assured. However, I need some arrows. I called it the 4 R Circuit and here we go:

(an information is being) Released (via Anons or DMs exclusively: it's never sheer luck, that is a bloody lie and a poor one, at it) -> (it then prompts a couple different) Reactions -> (followed by an almost immediate) Retcon (by the other side of this very antagonistic fandom) -> (in response, an old information is being) Recycled (thus effectively keeping the chatter alive, but re-oriented until ) -> (a new or old/new information is being) Released

Historically, the lifespan of this news cycle was never shorter than 24, but seldom (if ever) longer than 72 hours. This summer is a resolute break off this pattern, but old habits die hard: the collective attention span has been also conditioned accordingly.

And how could it be otherwise? Because neither of them had any consistent A-list level gossip history, the emerging fandom had to resume itself to their social media accounts, for a start. And boy, were we copiously spoiled, with banter and innuendo and double-entendre galore, and then with voluble Anons being simultaneously directed to the main players of all the factions. I bet it was elating. I am sure it was also great fun: a merry, sunny age of innocence. Until it wasn't and the ugly manipulative streak began its inglorious march in here. The thirst grew, and so did the stakes. Pictures, pictures or it did not happen. And when we got them, we started to immediately diss and hiss and hum and drum. In the Real World (you know, out there, where we all go every morning and are civilized, amiable people), this kind of behavior would be more than uncanny: it would be uncalled for and drastically sanctioned as such. But, I digress.

The result of this disco inferno by design is a pattern of reactivity I have never seen in my entire life. Nano-inquisitors immediately spring out of their chairs once you dare write something: why did you say that? how dare you speak your mind, you are supposed to be a stupid, stupid shipper? In the meantime, almost nobody bothers connecting the dots, finding a solid background for arguments, placing facts or speculation in a logical context. It's frowned upon. Yet, the whole experience would be way more enjoyable, if instead on focusing on idiotic and obviously doctored details, we could bring some perspective to all this hubbub.

Last case in point, this freshly baked imbecility:

We all know who the fuck Brave Heart is: the kilt obsessed, once Mightiest Troll of Mordor. The one who invented by herself the grotesque story of the Hôtel Costes Rash sightings, last April, via Anons written in painful English. Also, the one who spun, based on a friendly snap at a sportive event, the Ellenwood Innuendo, promptly ditched - it didn't stick well enough- now reactivated. A sample:

Calling all stations: there is no side exit at the Hôtel Costes' restaurant, you fool, who's been to Paris as often as I went to Oahu, which is to say never. There is a back exit, through the kitchen, madam: next time, do your damn homework properly! Unlike you, I often went there (I preferred other, less nouveau riche playgrounds, that being said), back in 1996-2002, when it still was the boldest celeb' spotting venue in town. Not anymore. And who in their right mind would bring luggage or shopping bags in a very peculiarly laid-out French restaurant, without immediately taking the risk of being a conversation stopper, a bull (heh) in a china shop?

The "have seen it with my own eyes" gave you away, this time. A classical, by the book way to spin a cheap lie.

Also, C's witty latergram, via a tertiary player. I am sure (and I will film myself eating my socks live, if proven wrong) that back in Mordor someone already came with the agit-prop retcon: "it's irrelevant when the picture was taken".

It is very relevant. July 31. One day before August 1st: I always admired her humor. But who would take the time to tell 1+1= 2?

If I could gift this fandom anything, let it be this: context is always important. Manipulation starts exactly when you stop questioning and let your brain live the 72 hours news cycle.

The only real sound of this August, on the S&C front, is the sound of silence.

I rest my case.

[eddiespornstache]

(I hope I'm not bothering you too much with asks btw, I just love another buddietommy enjoyer I can talk to :D)

Would you read a long Eddie/Tommy fic where instead of Buck, Tommy kisses Eddie and they start dating?

I was trying to find some Eddie/Tommy fics like that, but only got one-shots (and all of them pwp, which is fine, but not what I'm searching for).

I'm cooking a canon divergence in which Tommy and Eddie kiss after Tommy takes Eddie to the hospital. He still talks to Buck, but it is all very platonic.

I'd like to explore repressed Eddie, and we know Tommy is not afraid to cut things short if he thinks the other person is not ready. This can lead to interesting dynamics, like heavy angst with Eddie wanting, yet not allowing himself to fucking take it.

It hurts Tommy too, of course. He hates not being with Eddie, but he rather suffer alone then dragging the man into something he can't deal with yet.

It just has so much potential, you know? The problem is that I LOVE bucktommy. I'd feel like committing an act of heresy, the utmost pure form of blasphemy against the Gods.

It’s never a bother to get buddietommy etc asks!!

My two cents about an Eddietommy canon divergence is that what sets Eddie apart from Buck is he’d be a lot more willing to be honest upfront about his insecurities re: dating and being with a man instead of trying to bluster through it, which is why I could see a first date between Eddie and Tommy being more successful than what happened in canon—Tommy’s willing to be patient for the right guy, and if he thinks Eddie’s the right guy, he’ll let him set the pace. It won’t be as lighting speed as Buck’s pace, but I do find it crucial to their dynamic that they both have to be willing to work for it—if Eddie’s so repressed that he’s not making an effort beyond self-pity, I don’t think that would be enough for Tommy to want to stick around for him. Eddie would definitely need a little more time before he’s ready to be out to everyone in his life, but I think in the meantime he’d communicate to Tommy that he wants him and he’s working on getting there.

[yuseirra]

I'm drawing a comic~ for the meantime...this manga honestly made me so frustrated and pissed earlier, I just ranted on and I found it so funny to read. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, here's how I feel about it rn!!

oh, this is such a perfect time to take a break from it though, i constantly feel so nervous about creating something for it because things escalate fast and I need to make good sense of it and reflect it into my works EVERY week. I am nuts for staying accurate to the source material (it may not seem like it but I'm really a perfectionist and I wish to do a good job getting the characters right) This work has a knack for making me feel extremely tense. It's been that way for the past three months I've hopped in, it's nice and enjoyable to have something to be invested on but sometimes it gets too much.. people are growing insane and pointing knives at each other, our protagonist stabbed himself and fell into the waters. The fact that I think it was an utterly foolish decision for him to have been that way does not help. I do not support what he's done. It does make a pretty impressive scene considering it's a manga and the art looks good, I think they planned that scene to be there from the beginning too but Sigh

I think he directed his anger to the wrong guy. I am not convinced that was the right choice he's made so I hate the look of it. Way to feel this way about the main character huh,

I can't draw.. when things make me this nervous, what else is going to unfold? I feel like I can see the big picture for the whole thing, but there is no way I can predict all the little details and what if things get super ugly, even uglier than how it is now?? I can't possibly work with that, it's just so hard!; Mengo-san Aka-san, what did I do to deserve this?? I came in because I thought I understood what this is!!! I have a good idea of how things are going to go!!! Why do you have to make everything SO MESSY?? It's frustrating. I AM collecting the physical volumes you know? I WANT TO TILL THE END?? please don't make me regret it, You seriously AREN'T going to make the one guy Ai confessed her love to a total freak. You know that and I know it too. It's just out there and set in stone, goodness. This isn't funny. This is so pointless. It wears me out ugghhh it's not about the ship I mean, it's about the message!!! the plot!!!!!! I really don't like how this manga makes things way more complex than what it actually is. It doesn't have to be that way.

Heheh. I ranted again- the stuff below's what I wrote earlier. Honorable mention to chatgpt for helping me translate it.. this is just. I just want things to get resolved. It's getting so dumb.

***

Kamiki is drowning and getting dragged away, Aqua stabs himself, then floats on the water with a melancholy expression on his face… and then there's a break for two weeks or so, right? Ugh, seriously.

But honestly, even in this weirdly ended situation, I’m actually glad there’s a break. If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t be able to write things like this. I get too nervous to write because I really hate making mistakes. I genuinely don’t like it. Normally, I wouldn’t enjoy talking about uncertain situations like this…

But what can I do when I see things?;;; If I didn’t understand anything at all, I wouldn’t be able to write something like this, and if I didn’t have enough time, I wouldn’t have time to think about it, so I wouldn’t be able to write then either. But now that I do understand, it’s just… so frustrating, suffocating, nerve-wracking, and I feel all fidgety because of it.

Honestly, this manga should just release one chapter and then take a break. Release one chapter and then take a break. It would be nice to have about a week to think about it with a clear mind. It’s so exhausting, really. I feel like I know where this is all headed in the end, but the creators have been dragging things out so slowly. Even with the Aqukana storyline, I got so tired with how they handled it that I took a break from reading it last year…

The story hands you the key. It even clearly shows you the door that the key can open. But then it puts up dozens of other doors next to it, meaningless ones. Even after giving you all the answers, it tries to confuse you. But you can see right through it. And while doing that, it points to each door saying, 'Isn't this door pretty~~~ How about that one?' constantly taunting you along. All while it's them that's given you the key already in the first place.

It’s really frustrating… I’m so tired. If I couldn’t see anything, I’d just watch while grumbling or be like, 'Oh…' and keep my distance without overthinking it. But it’s suffocating and frustrating not knowing why they’re doing such pointless things, and it makes me anxious too…

Well… I could just take a break, but… I really like Ai. And when I look at the man she loved, I feel like he could actually be a really good character too, so I watch carefully… There’s a lot to dig into. It would be nice to shift the focus onto the other characters, too, but…

Seriously, nothing’s been properly resolved, has it? They’ve been dragging it out for ages. The characters keep doing crazy things. You can’t end a story like this. It’s just… they're not writing well, but they’re doing it on purpose. This manga is like that; the creators enjoy twisting things, and I should just enjoy that too, but I don't think I do. I just want to use the key and go through the door; I’m not interested in looking at the various door knobs. I wish they’d just stop now. I feel like I know what’s going on. That’s why I’m here to draw fan art. I get so up and down every week, but if the outcome isn’t what I’m thinking, I have no idea what it could be, and I don’t think it would make for a good story at all. I’m not saying it has to go the way I want for it to be a good story! It’s just… if it doesn’t, it feels like the message will completely collapse. It’s not about the couple… Even if the characters die, as long as the story is good, that’s fine, but the framework has to hold up!

About Kamiki's state,

his trauma and the dire-ness of his mentality is probably even more serious than Aqua’s, right? And I actually got that right too.

They said they only felt alive when they were with Ai. That means, in essence, they’re as good as dead now. But if they still want to keep living in that state, it means there was something they believed they had to do.

That’s likely related to the wishes mentioned in Mephisto and Fatal.

‘I want to see you. I want your life to return.’ (Mephisto)

‘I want to get closer to you. I want to receive your love again.’ (Fatal)

'For that, I can do anything. I can even offer my life. I can sacrifice anything. What more do I need to use?' <(Common themes in both songs)

In short, it’s all about 'I want to see you.'"

The "you" here refers to Ai.

That’s what it is.

Well… when you think about it, what Kamiki is doing now is essentially that. His underlying wish was that, but the way he’s going about it has become completely twisted. I don’t think he developed this kind of logic on his own. He’s been influenced or possessed by something. Because he was never someone who could hurt others.

This character didn't harm Ai… I truly believe he wouldn't have hurt her. Everything he’s doing now, in his own way, is probably for Ai. It’s just that he’s gone mad.

And thus, you can infer he's in such a serious condition, yet it hasn’t been highlighted at all.

They made his past so tragic and horrifying (I try to thoroughly analyze the character's psychological state; as I mentioned before, I try to sync up with their emotions…), and yet, with this character, there are parts I just can’t dive into because it’s too overwhelming. It’s plainly obvious. He’s not in his right mind right now. He’s too depressed and tormented to be alive.

Think about it, he’s been through extremely serious things since he was at least ten years old, maybe even younger… Just thinking about it makes me… I once considered exploring this, incorporating to my works, but I simply couldn’t. I really couldn’t… it’s too horrifying!

If the author had written him in a way where he turned into a serial killer because he developed a hatred for women or something like that, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive it. Even though I haven’t experienced such things, I feel I know enough of it to say that would be too shallow, convenient, and disrespectful. That’s really not how you handle such material. It’s beyond lazy—it's irresponsible. But I didn’t think it would go that way.

Whether this character ends up being revealed as the ultimate villain or not, if they’ve created a character like this and don’t address it properly, it’s not respectful to the character. It’s too much…

But I believe that the creators have a certain affection for what they’ve created, so I trust they’ll handle it. I just… want to see it handled properly. I think the delay is because they couldn’t fully express it while the anime was airing. They keep taking breaks and adjusting their pace; part of it might be due to the creators’ conditions, but I think they might have deliberately delayed introducing new content to match the anime’s schedule.

Honestly, I got into this because I knew. I realized, "Ah, this is what this character is going through."

He really liked Ai. It was set up in a way that he had no other choice but to become that way.

Other characters have their own core identity, right? Even if you strip away all their relationships with other characters, they have something of their own.

But when you look at this character, from the planning stage, everything was set to align with Ai, and without Ai, the character itself wouldn’t exist…;; He just collapses. Like in the lyrics, "I can’t live without Ai." The only consolation is that Ai truly did love him back… It’s like, the creators made this character specifically as a match for Ai, you know?

When you create a character like that, it’s only right to handle it in a way that makes that visible.

About his relationship with Ai… it’s not like I just think they look good together or something… It’s more like, when you look at the story and the way the characters are built, it’s obvious that they were made that way!!!

But even in the current situation and how ugly it is, there's one reason I think Ai made a good choice in picking him as her husband. She picked a extremely handsome guy and passed down superior looks to their kids haha. When you look at him, it doesn't make it seem like Ai is way out of his league in terms of looks, does it? She met someone who matched her well and dated him, that’s how it feels. I’m pretty sure they’re really gods, you know? They’re like the god of entertainment and the god of light. Their story is just too similar… they resemble each other so much… If you look at mythology, Ame-no-Uzume’s husband just fell for her at first sight, got swept along, married her, and they even shared a shrine, living happily together… Ame-no-Uzume just barged into his domain, made herself at home, and they got together right away. That god really married well. He ruled over not just one or two domains, but was a supreme indigenous deity and was considered just and noble… It’s like, “Oh, I like this one,” and she picked him like that. And judging by the drawings, Ame-no-Uzume was really beautiful… She was incredibly cute… I was so happy looking at that mythology. They bless the couple’s fate and marriage because they’re satisfied and happy with each other. People even make masks of the two gods and wear them together during festivals.

Look, if I’m a romance writer and I want to write something related to the entertainment industry, and I borrow mythology, and I know this couple's mythology? And then I write a story like this? Well… from my perspective, Kamiki is a mad god who went crazy after losing his wife. He genuinely loved Ai. Look at his expression in chapter 162. It’s the same as in chapter 153. He loved her that much, and on top of that, she was his savior, his lover, and even the mother of his child, raising them risking everything she's got. He believes she died because of his mistake—so what would he do? He might have thought about following her in death but couldn’t, so he thought, "If I do something, maybe Ai will come back." And when that didn’t work, he just ended up desperately wanting to see Ai again… I think that’s what drove him mad. I don’t think he’s in his right mind. He’s totally lost it. I mean, who could stay sane after losing someone like that for over a decade?

It’s not like the readers should have to guess why he’s fallen apart like this, right? It’s time for the story to show us. I’m really struggling with this—making deductions, writing, drawing—and every time a new chapter is released, people come to me, feeling sad or offering comfort. Seriously, I’m fine! isn’t it? Aren’t the creators romance writers? How could they not cover this? It’s not just about the couple—this is such rich material, and not using it would be a waste, don’t you think? And it doesn’t make sense… Why would they write it so that Ai loved someone truly strange? It’s not like that. Ugh, seriously.

As I always say, it’s not my work, so I could be completely wrong.

Still… it just feels like such a waste. Not using this? Not doing this?

I think all the clues are there… They’re doing this on purpose. Just wait and see. I’m not called the Prophet-type for nothing (INFJ)? When it comes to things like this, my intuition isn’t that bad. There are a lot of things I’ve figured out as soon as I saw them.

What’s frustrating about this manga is that if the plot progression itself is confusing, that’s fine as a mystery element.

But here, they give you all the answers, then pretend they haven’t, dragging things out while playing dumb. That really makes me go, “What are they doing?” It’s like they show all the answers and then, without reason, go off on a tangent. It’s like entering the destination into a navigation system, knowing where you’re supposed to go, but steering the car in the opposite direction for three hours.

Then, they turn around like nothing happened and head towards the destination. It’s pointless. If you don’t know the destination from the start, there’s a thrill as you go. But this just looks like foolishness. It’s like, eventually, it’ll come to this conclusion, but the story gives you the answer upfront and then insists, "Actually, no~" and lies about it. I don’t think it’s a very good method. It’s tiring…

Maybe it works in a volume format, but reading it as it’s released makes you wonder, "What’s even going on here?"

Haha, I came into this with confidence. At this point, there’s quite a bit that’s built up.

When I think about it, I’ve gotten all the critical parts right. Look at the expressions Kamiki makes when he looks at Ai. Does he look like someone who would order Ryosuke to kill Ai just because she rejected him?

This guy just can’t come to his senses after Ai’s death. He’s been doing everything he could just to see Ai again.

And if you’re still confused, the answer is always in Ai’s video message.

Would Ai, of all people, say she wanted to live forever with someone who ordered her death? That’s not how you write that story. The answer was already there, so I don’t know what this manga is doing.

That's why I'm not worried about Aqua right now! I'm mad! LOL. Hey, your dad definitely loved your mom more than anyone else in the entire world. He loved her more than his own life. Well, maybe you put Ruby first… But seriously, is he really so crazy that he tried to kill Ruby just to save Ai?!

But if that's the case, then it means he's not in his right mind, so he needs an exorcism…;;

How could Aqua not understand what kind of person his dad is, even after playing him as his role? Why can't he get a sense of it? Why didn't he listen, and instead tried to drown him in the ocean? Why did he do that? Is he really that evil? Am I missing something? Why are you like this? I can’t sympathize with it—was that really the only way? It doesn’t look that way to me. This is like a parade of fools, seriously. Did I completely miss the mark? Am I really wrong? Did I get everything wrong, and did I fail to see it properly? Then why does Ai’s video message say what it does?

Aqua, please get a grip. And Kamiki is out of his mind. He needs to go to a hospital. Seriously. What is all this?

That's all.

[fayamn]

Happy Siren Feeder

You, yes, can you help me? I am looking for the way to... Do not be alarmed, human, I'm a Marai... Yes, a siren is appropriate for you to understand. Quit flopping around. I am on a mission for my clan and... What? Oh I see, you're trying to catch me. Do not force my hand. You're sure you still want to? Well, swim at your own risk. The sea hold fearsome creatures, and I'm one of them! High Tide! Have a drink. You're liking my staff huh? Controlling tides is pretty nice, it allows me to fill someone not nice with a ton of water for example. You like it so far? Legs giving in? It's fine, never needed any, but I didn't have to lug around that much weight. Feeling bloated? I bet you've never drunk that much, especially at once... Let me empty your stomach for you! Tidecaller's blessing!

See, empty stomach, you're just fuller everywhere else now, meanie. Magic is useful isn't it? I can convert all the water you ingest into warm heavy lard. It suits you being this fat you know? I hope it helped with pacifying you, I'm sure you won't try anything with any Marai you meet from now on... If you leave home after going back to it even. Huhuhu yeah, you're more whale than human now, with that insulating blubber you'd do great in the cold deep. Wecome to the deep end, I hope you don't shed it anytime soon. What? I can't believe it, it's arousing to you? Defeated in mere seconds and doomed to an humilitaing fate, yet you're getting excited now? I guess I can humor you a bit, I'll have a bit of fun for allowing me to train my powers, even if it was a pathetic challenge.

All right, I'll climb onboard your rowboat. Huh? Doesn't matter, I can summon water around me to move around. Afraid to get your feet wet? With that much blubber you're bound to be pretty buoyant. Relax, ride upon the waves, and you'll get the attention of a whaler ship eventually. Now that I think about it, you might not be big enough to get noticed. A whale needs to be really big to be worth it right? So drink up. Oh yes, I'll force it down your throat either way, but I'll do it slower this time, so I can play with that in the meantime. Oh, so soft and flowy... Human skin sure is more enjoyable than scales. But I'd bet not all of you are this massive and heavy.

Look at that, even with your stomach filling up with water there is still a big layer of lard on top, it's still flabby and soft. I really did a number on you. Just one of your legs is bigger than my tail fin. I could easily fit into one leg of your pants, if one that size even exists. You're swallowing good. You better train that skill, looks like it's the only thing you're ever going to do from now on. Aren't you happy I've given you a body to laze around? I hope you'll manage. I wonder how everyone you ever knew will react. What? Getting pretty full again are you? That pathetic pleading look... The sea has no pity. You got what you deserved. All right... Tidecaller's blessing!

Here you go, human whale. You're even fatter now. Your poor rowboat is on the verge of capsizing with that much of a load... Your massive arms aren't of any use anymore. Look at your pudgy palm and fingers, you won't be doing anything much with those. Groping yourself are you? I guess you have a lot of exploring of yourself to do, after all I gave you that much more body to play with. Legs are so weird. If you were a Marai like me you'd still be able to move around easily, but I'm truly sad I'm going to miss you trying to walk after being filled with so much lard. If you even manage to row back to the shore with your new pathetic blubbery arms.

Well, time to part ways, fatty. My quest beckons, and my people are counting on me. Unlike you I do have more important things to do, and the appropriate body to do so. I was looking for directions, but I'll find my path. You seem already out of breath, I don't want to tire you any more, you would look even more pathetic than you already are, it would be awful... Or even more enjoyable for you I imagine. But I've humored you enough. If i stumble on you on my way back because you were too fat to row, maybe I'll humor some more, or permanently... Have a nice fat time from now on, whale~

[epicocat]

I realized i haven’t been giving any GunplUpdates to the, like, 3 people that care, so I’ll just do a quick review of the nine kits I’ve built since the Zeong

Real Grade Sazabi

Probably one of the best RG kits I’ve built so far, at least in recent memory. It’s big, it’s articulate, it’s detailed, I love it!

High Grade Gundam NT-1, AKA Gundam Alex

This one was certainly an older kit. It builds the same as any other HG RX clone, and absolutely needs panel lining with all the molded details (good thing I picked up a pen recently). However, despite all its limitations, the HG Gundam Alex turned out better than I expected, and poses quite nicely!

I’m not at all biased because we have the same name :P

High Grade Mobile Doll May (Gundam Base Color)

This is probably my first official step into the Mecha Masume genre of model kits, but not my first girlpla (I’ve built the Figure Rise Sulleta Mercury the Artery Gear Fusion Guard Spider Feidy kit [highly recommend] before either of them). I doubt I‘ll end up buying anything more scandalous than this, I really don’t care for the half naked robot girls of Frame Arm Girls or Megami Device.

That all being said, this was a really fun kit! It was my first run with waterslide decals, and I think they turned out… mostly ok. The articulation is really good, the sculpting is well detailed (especially in the areas meant for other fans) and I just like kits that come with stands.

I will say, i do not and will not understand the appeal of battle stilettos (it’s hard to see in the pic but her feet are basically pointed straight down in the heels she’s wearing)

Sakura’s Edge

Another of my few non Bandai kits, Sakura comes from the Armored Puppet line of kits from Number 57. It’s another 1/24th scale kit, which means she is very very smol. Her most stand out feature is her third giant buster-arm, capable of wielding a sword twice her height. The bright pink, gold, and white go really well together, and she just looks really nice! Unfortunately her armor is more of an afterthought from the creators, as some parts need to be filed and trimmed excessively to get them to fit (I was in a VC with a friend, he can testify I was almost brought down by the shoes), and other parts just sit loose, ready to pop right off after the slightest tap, touch, or pinch.

30 Minute Missions Spinatia (Commando Type)

This kit was my intro to 30MM and I wish I bought more of them sooner! It was a cheap impulse purchase from a “local” hobby store I was checking out and it was a really enjoyable experience! It was simple and relatively fast (I failed the mission, it took me an hour), but using all the extra parts and mixing and matching equipment was so fun to play around with and experiment with what looks cool, something I hope to see more of as I build more Hexa Gear kits. In the meantime though, I have a 30 Minute Custom to plan >:3c

Transparent SD Gundam and Char’s Zaku II

I dont own many SD kits, and I think these are some more I’ll snag more of as I shop around. They’re simple and cute! They’re both Cross Silhouettes, but only the Zaku came with the CS frame, so the Gundam is just really squat and even more chibi in comparison. Overall not much to write home about, but still fun!

High Grade Gundam Maxter

The only red white and blue I’ll ever stand for

That being said, this was a really great kit! It’s a shame it’s P-Bandai limited, along with Gundam Rose. It absolutely needs panel lining for its literal abs of steel and face, but it still looks quite nice. It’s very articulate and it was hard to pick just one photo that truly sums up the insanity of Gundam Maxter, perfectly captured in gunpla form. It comes with everything seen in the picture, along with its flying surfboard shield, guns, and an effect part for its bursting machinegun punch. It is such a great kit, and comes with enough ham to justify its $30 price tag, despite the fact that Maxter is in fact very small.

High Grade Messer F-01

I love The messer’s design. It feels like a true successor to the Zaku series of suits. I know canonically it’s built off of the Sazabi, but it’s design is 100% Zaku. It’s got that respirator like mouthpiece, and the spiky asymmetric shoulder armor. Is just so cool! And did I mention this things size yet? It, like it’s predecessor are big boys, snd both stand almost as tall as many master grade gunpla in my collection. Overall an amazing kit!

[plantsjustwannahavefun]

I don't really remember when exactly my interaction with the OFMD fandom became so limited to the Izzy Enjoyer Corner of it... It's not like I'm not rooting for Stede and Ed too, I absolutely am, and they're the reason I fell in love with this show at first. I didn't get into Izzy's character until my third or fourth rewatch, but I never would have, had it been for all those amazing, insightful meta posts that helped me see beyond the surface and discover all those details I'd missed, all those hidden layers and multitudes... And it turned out that Izzy contained so many of those, he ended up becoming the most fascinating character in the show for me. I just wanted to learn more. I understood exactly, viscerally, what all those people saying "I want to shake him in a jar and study him under a microscope like a bug" meant.

But eventually it became more than that. For some reason I kept finding so much compassion and acceptable in that weird little corner that seemed to encompass the essence of what drew me to OFMD in the first place. It certainly seemed ironic at first that many of the nicest, kindest, funniest, most accepting people in the fandom clustered around this angry pathetic gremlin man, and that fascinated me as much as the character himself. At the time I wasn't aware of this whole rift between the "mainstream" part of the fandom and the "Izzy Enjoyer" part, but something about the latter just made me naturally gravitate towards it before I learned that apparently the "mainstream" part can be more of a minefield...

But then I realised something. I've always been drawn to characters like Izzy, in every fandom. It's just that none of those other characters went on to inspire a "sub-fandom" of their own. In every other fandom, characters like Izzy are only ever treated either as comic relief or as flat antagonists, and most of the fans see them that way too. But this fandom somehow had enough people who saw deeper into this character and created their own corner where liking him was validated. I can actually engage in discourse about my favourite character with other people and not get ridiculed for taking an interest in a "minor" character who's technically an antagonist, but not one of those cool suave mastermind ones that are socially acceptable to like because they're competent and conventionally sexy, but just a regular middle-aged guy with very realistic reactions that aren't always palatable but feel so, so very human and painfully relatable. In other fandoms characters like him don't get thousands of fan fics where they get to have sex and real relationships and character growth because people found them compelling enough to take them seriously as a character, even if the process does involve peeling him to the core like an onion to reconstruct him again, and cackling when he gets mad about it.

I still hope that S2 will somehow close this rift and unite the fandom by satisfying "both sides". In the meantime I'm probably going to keep chilling in this corner for a while.

[gasha40k]

I’ve been reading a lot of 40k fiction in between painting recently, and I’ve gotten a good bit of progress done on both. I’ll start with a little reading update.

Horus Rising

False Gods

Galaxy in Flames

Flight of the Eisenstein

Fulgrim

First Heretic

Know No Fear

Butcher’s Nails

Betrayer

Wrath of Khârn

Khârn: Eightfold Path

I finished Betrayer just a couple days ago, and holy shit. What an incredible book. I am a strong Khârn stan (Argel Tal, too) and I am more convinced than ever that I’m a World Eaters gamer.

I plan to read the three (or four) Unremembered Empire books before I loop back to A Thousand Sons to read the “main” Heresy storyline through to Slaves to Darkness, and eventually Siege of Terra. But for now, I’m making a little detour through all of the books that Khârn takes center stage for, so that I can satiate the hyperfixation and figure out what he’s up to in the 42nd Millennium. I also plan to finish most of the World Eaters books, as that was the whole reason that I started reading the Heresy in the first place.

Betrayer is by far my favorite Warhammer novel. Fulgrim was my top for a while—I may be a closeted Emperor’s Children enjoyer, don’t tell Blood Daddy—but man. Betrayer blew it out of the fucking water. What an incredible ending to an incredible trilogy. My biggest takeaways were as follows: nobody fucking likes Angron, and Khârn is my favorite guy ever. Enough gushing, though. Time for painting stuff.

The second Ultramarine I’ve ever painted, weirdly enough. My first Ultramarine was my first model, so my second being a keychain-corpse for a new army is weirdly sentimental

Since we’re on the topic of Khorne, I finished up the torso of my old school Daemon Prince. I’m exceptionally proud of this! I think the shading and blending is maybe some of my best, most advanced painting yet, and I pulled out just about every technique that I know for this thing. I even did a little drybrushing on the Necron skull. Here’s to hoping I can maintain this level of quality across the other pieces of this mini once I get some more primer.

Getting some good use out of my technicals, and finally utilizing my skull box

Still on Khorne, here’s some more progress on those Bloodletters from last post. They’re just about done, complete with horn blending and everything. I’m planning on doing flaming blades for them, but I’ll have to buy some more paints before I tackle that. I’ve got a handful more of primed and based Bloodletters, so they’ll probably be my backup easy paint for a while. The bases are simple and easy to make, but decently visually effective, which I think is good and fitting for such a massed unit.

Next up, I decided to give highlighting a go with one of my newer Thunderbearers, since I’m trying to boost my painting technique all around. This is definitely my best highlighting work yet, certainly leagues ahead of my first try from last year. I think he looks pretty clean!

I’m also experimenting with new photography backgrounds since I got kinda sick of having pasta or hamster cage cleaner or whatever the fuck in the background of my poorly lit update pictures. Think I may have stumbled upon a good method for backgrounds.

I love you, empty white void

Last but certainly not least, I finished up the first bike for my lone Outrider Squad. I’m really happy with him, as well. The hardest part of painting these dudes is definitely base painting. They just have a lot of ground to cover with your brush so they absolutely devour paint, but it’s cool cause I finally finished him up after like, actual months of sitting half-painted in my vehicles box. I’m a particular fan of the little white lens glare in the top left of his eye. I just think it’s neat.

This unit is gonna be mad satisfying to finish, and I can’t wait to get more work done. In the meantime, I’m chugging away at my first 5-man Berzerker squad, including their bases, which are gonna be pretty unique. They’re like, black mountainous rocks littered with skulls and blood-stained snow. Alongside that, I’ve also been stripping my Custodes, so I’ll have a bit of an update about that next time, too.

[windsweptinred]

hello. You are ill and I’m trapped on a four hour road trip, so fandom malarkey. Have you ready any good books lately and what set off your current corinthiel craze?

Oh @zorawitch! A FOUR HOUR road trip!! I hope it flies by for you! ❤️ I'll do what I can to help entertain you in the meantime.

I have not in fact read any good books lately... Most shamefully. Mainly because I've been inundated with other forms of amazing media these past few months. TV wise I would highly recommend The Fall of the House of Usher on Netflix, Bodies on BBC IPlayer, Loki series 1 and 2 on Disney Plus and I've recently got round to watching True Detective series one. And honestly it's one of the most phenomenonal pieces of television I've ever watched! Also, if you can access it and you like a bit of eldritch comsic horror, I'd recommend the Lovecraft Investigations Podcast on BBC sounds. It's a modern take on some HP Lovecrafts tales and it's superb.

Oh no, you've asked about Corinthiel... What have you done? Run.. Run now. 😅

My Corinthiel obbsession actually isn't as sudden as it appears. It began in May with @ibrithir-was-here 's most beloved Endless Heirs/Corinthian Bros AU. In that Dream raises Daniel as his heir and the first and second Corinthian coexist.. And well, young Dani and Cori 2.0 are 'very' friendly 😏. That got the wheels turning in my mind. Later that same month I wrote and posted 'Dandelion Wishes' (Now 'Turn of the Wheel' ) here on Tumblr, which revolved around the canon relationship between Daniel and the second Corinthian. And I've been in love with the pairing ever since. I also remember planting the seeds of Corinthiel incredibly unsubtley in my dreamling fic Metamorphosis back in June 😅. It was always my plan for that to be a huge part of the sequel.

As with most rare pairs though, (and Corinthiel is one of the rarest in the Sandman fandom.) With lack of content and no one to play with, your attention drifts to other places. That was until I met @bobbole 🤍��. My Corinthiel partner in crime, and we've been bouncing off each other creatively and feeding each other's obbsession ever since. 😅

Why Corinthiel? Articulating it with my head full of cold and cough syrup may not be the best time, so bear with me. 😅 But oh this ship is so layered and beautiful. Both the Second incarnation of the Corinthian and Daniel are 'reborn' so to speak at a similar time. In a period of immense change and turmoil, with everyone else around them mourning what has gone, they two symbolise renewal, a restart, the second chance, the next generation. They both share the journey of being both a remnant of the past, and yet their own individuals. Old and new. And it's an understanding and experience that binds them so poetically. That's a path they can walk together, rather then alone. Not to mention their shared history. The second Corinthian was created to find and protect Daniel Hall, that was his purpose. And I like to think he never stopped, even when Daniel became Dream. Plus, to the Corinthian, he was Daniel first, and there's a sense of self there, seperate from Dream and Morpheus that must be so valued. Reflected in Daniel seeing the second Corinthian as a different entity to the first... Something only they can see one each other.

I could go on, but honestly though, like any ship, it's something that just clicks. Something that calls to you that says, these two are my beloveds. 😅 But thank you for asking and giving me a chance to rant on insanely. ❤️❤️

May your journey be a fast, enjoyable one @zorawitch. And I can't wait for your next fic whatever it may be. If you're a fan of Desire, the Twins or Desunity, please go check out their work on A03. I couldn't recommend it highly enough!

[dayfalwastaken]

Higher Dialogue.

“Okay, picture this scenario then.” He raised his hand to better illustrate what he was about to say. “You have a lot of money and donate to charity. Why do you do it? Is it because it’s the right thing to do and makes you happy or do you do it because you’d feel bad otherwise? In both cases you cannot be truly selfless, since performing the action of donating to charity will nonetheless end up benefiting you in some way. By the same logic breathing is selfish, because it benefits you.”

The other just shrugged, crossing his legs.

“Breathing is done automatically though. You only do it consciously once you start thinking about it, and then it fades back to being automatic. You can’t call someone selfish for continuing to function as an organism.” His argument was met with a small frown.

“What about eating then? The act of hunting for prey, killing and preparing it is all done consciously to help continue your existence, by at the same time ending another’s. Plants for example do not kill anyone to continue living, with few exceptions. They feed off of sunlight, a resource that cannot really be consumed since it’s produced by the sun as a byproduct of its existence.

He paused, narrowing his eyes while he looked off into the distance. The rabbit nodded, inviting him to go on. The dots of light in Shadow Freddy’s eyes fluttered, but his expression did not allow for much to be gathered. RWQ still had no idea just what the other was thinking, as opposed to how it was for Fred himself.

“Therefore, sunlight is limitless during a plant’s lifespan despite how much of it the plant eats and the sun will never be impacted by the consumption of its light. The plant is eating automatically without impacting the thing that feeds it- or anything else for that matter, so in this case it is not selfish like other creatures.”

“But not everything is a plant- a simpler lifeform. It’s not my fault I’m not one. Evolution, a higher power, mere chance may have created me. I cannot be blamed for what I am on a base level when I have no control over it.” He placed a hand on his chest, gripping the velvet armchair tighter. In the meantime, the bear fixed his tie, listening along in interest.

“A human infant cannot be blamed for being born human, can it? Except the simple lifeform- depending on what you define as life, everyone and everything has to be a little selfish in order to exist. It’s the circle of, well, life.” A begrudging nod was his sole reward for the argument. “Nothing would be if not for some amount of self-benefiting action. That does not mean, however, that selfishness is inherently bad. It’s self-serving for sure, but in the case of survival it’s necessary.”

Then, a hopeful grin and a hint of pity graced the bear’s features.

“So you are in agreement with me when I say it is necessary for me to cause pain in order to further exist.” Shadow Freddy had said it more like a statement rather than a question. “That I am not selfishly evil just for the sake of it, my enjoyment of tormenting people notwithstanding since it’s a side effect.”

“No.” In return, a single eyebrow was raised.

“Why?” He asked, his tone even.

“Because in your particular case there is an easier, far less hurtful alternative.” The Devil tilted his head, urging the rabbit to continue with a simple hand gesture. “Leeching off of the pain already present in the world, as you say, that will never truly cease. If that wasn’t an option then I’d reluctantly have to agree. That is, as long as the pain was caused in as small amounts as possible to ensure you had just enough to keep living.”

But as soon as he’d said that, his friend had rolled his eyes, attention on the red sky above the both of them. Not what he wanted to hear, but then oftentimes that was the truth’s nature, wasn’t it?

“So, in your opinion, I am forced to do just enough to live and nothing else. My life is relegated to a- a silent existence, drifting boredly through space, without enjoying anything it has to offer...” He raised his shoulders in confusion. “But is it not in my nature to only enjoy the harm I can cause others? You said it yourself; you cannot be blamed for what you are on a base level. If what I am is a being that feeds on the negative emotions of others- in order to live, be happy, fulfilled, whatever- can I really be called evil?”

For a moment RWQFSFASXC was taken off guard by how calm the Devil remained even when his convictions were being challenged, but he chuckled at himself the next second. He was not talking to a mindless creature. There was reason to be found even in the vilest- by the general definition- of creatures. And there was nothing more that he enjoyed than having a levelheaded discussion with a gifted individual.

“All I want, like all sentient beings, is to be happy.” It had been said so innocently the rabbit could do nothing else but believe it. “Why should I be denied that? Am I wrong to pursue my own happiness and mental wellbeing? Simply because it comes at the detriment of others? If that’s just how it is for me- as opposed to other lifeforms- and I can’t change the very nature of my being, how can you call me evil? Why is it wrong to make the best out of the hand I’ve been dealt?”

RWQ inhaled, despite not needing to, and tilted forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“That would imply you cannot learn to enjoy other things.” He began, treading carefully. “That you are forced to conform to the hand. I like being in the company of people even when they’re unaware of my presence, for example. That is not considered normal for those like us. Of course, we are not the same person, but if a being so similar to you can evolve past it’s arguably primal need to inflict suffering, I believe so can you…”

He was walking on eggshells, he knew, but it was worth a shot. If there was a chance people would stop suffering at the bear’s hands, as a result of a peaceful approach, he’d have to take it. The Devil shifted in his seat, but not in a show of anxiety. It was more like the confident dominance of one that was taking a more comfortable position to consider what they’d just heard.

A short silence descended between them, which RWQ broke almost immediately by swallowing his own fear and pushing further. He hoped to God his courage wouldn’t get him and many others killed. It’d be difficult to live with himself afterwards if he’d been the cause of a rageful rampage.  

“All sentient beings can choose to change, for the better or worse. You just need to try. To give yourself that chance to move past what you see as regular behavior- and be different than the norm that we’re expected to conform to...”

He proposed, trying to appear as reassuring as possible as he smiled. That may’ve had the opposite effect however. Shadow Freddy broke eye contact, leaning back into his chair to rub his chin.

“There’s always a choice. To improve your situation, as best you can, even when the difference might very well be miniscule, is still a choice worth making, I believe. To ignore that choice is what would make you evil.”

The rabbit could see the metaphorical gears turning underneath the top hat, and he prayed that was enough to convince his friend to at least take it easy on those poor, young souls. With bated breath he watched as his suggestion was weighed, and as he did so the bear laughed, probably amused by his anticipation. Well, at least it wasn’t a malicious laugh, so there was a silver lining somewhere in there.

A long sigh of relief escaped him upon hearing Fred’s response.

“…Huh. I’ll admit… I hadn’t thought of it like that.” The Devil stood up all of a sudden, clasping his hands together. Thick black smoke rose from his back as he extended a hand. “You’ve given me a lot to consider, RWQ.” He admitted, seemingly impressed. Shadow Bonnie glitched for a brief second, before smiling sheepishly and taking the hand, letting himself be pulled up. “I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad if Miss Schmidt was permitted a good night’s sleep.”

He almost jumped up in happiness, but managed to contain his excitement before it got the better of him. Lord knew Cassidy deserved a good rest more than anyone.

“Baby steps. That’s progress. But what about the boy?” He asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

There were countless other questions he could’ve asked, and none would provoked the same reaction from the entity in front of him. Anything else and he would’ve received a curt explanation, another question maybe, or perhaps silence. But none of those potential inquiries would’ve led to what he’d heard next.

In a low tone and a snarl that radiated nothing but pure, utter disgust, the Devil growled, barring his fangs and clenching his teeth so hard literal cracks formed before being sealed a moment later. No longer did he look like the calm, collected and amicable person from moments prior, or even a person for that matter. Instead, the visage of a monster, so filled with hate and sheer anger that existing should’ve been impossible, replaced him. It left RWQ wondering how something so awful could be real- how one could be while carrying so much… Rot within themselves. Ironic, coming from a being made out of agony and remnant of pain.

“Little rabbit… Sad, naïve little rabbit… If you had actually paid attention to those memories, you would’ve known better. There would be no reason for you to ask why or what about…” In spite of the repulsion coming off with each word, the Devil smiled. He held onto RWQ’s arm and sunk his claws all the way through it. Shadow Bonnie grimaced, but his shudder did not aid him in escaping the iron grasp.

“And you were doing so well being a makeshift therapist. I would’ve enjoyed talking to you further.” He was taller than an average human, but the Devil dwarfed him by a good margin, and for all the bravado, RWQFSFASXC felt smaller than ever.

What could no longer be called Fred sighed, cursing under his breath.

“You just had to go and ruin it… A truly unfortunate development.”

Shadow Bonnie’s long ears lowered like those of a cornered animal, and he took a step back, the invisible color draining from his face. As he stared up into those empty sockets, he realized he was staring into the eyes of Death, which he had just awakened. And all that had taken was a question.

While the pinpricks of Life disappeared from Death’s gaze, RWQ felt sorry. Sorry for the humans who had to live in an age where the Reaper had just been angered. Sorry for the boy and those around him that were sure to suffer thanks to his foolish mistake, and, allowing himself an ounce of selfishness, sorry for his own fate at the hands of this unending inferno, one which he’d just stirred.

The red chairs they’d sat on were gone, he noted. The wind had picked up as well, lifting the fallen leaves high into the air and circling the two of them like a forming tornado. At the same time, the lake had frozen and the ground had begun breaking under their feet. Out of the glowing cracks, the smell of sulfur rose, filling the atmosphere between them. Lightning struck somewhere to the left, startling him, but he was too transfixed on Death’s cold expression to acknowledge it.

“The Big Man should learn to keep his hands to himself, but I suppose complaining makes me a tad hypocritical when I don’t really mind cleaning up after his strays. Someone needs to look after those abandoned by him, no? What are you gonna do? The men in charge often get lazy. As for you, my dear friend…” Without warning his hand was ripped straight out of its socket and dropped to the ground, glitching into dark mist. RWQ did not scream, but he did clutch the bleeding wound as it healed.

The Devil leaned forward, close enough for their foreheads to touch, and whispered musingly into his ear.

“Run, rabbit… Run.”

…

It won’t help you, but go anyway- was left unsaid. RWQ didn’t need to be told twice. He teleported away before his arm even finished reforming. Guttural laughter saluted him on his way out, leaving a chill to go down his spine.

“Shit.”

[void-critters]

small life update, and why I haven't been actively posting much lately:

I'm gonna admit, life's been putting me through the ringer for the past few months. Between major interpersonal conflicts and environmental stress, I haven't been in the best mindset nor had the time/energy to even play my game for fun (let alone put together edits/updates). In good news though, I adopted a kitten! She’s been a blessing, and also very good at keeping me away from my PC. I do eventually plan on returning and putting out new things (the ideas in my head are bouncing around waiting to be put to pen & paper), but it may be a while before life calms down enough for me to do so.

I hope everyone is doing well; in the meantime here's a picture of my lovely Teto for your enjoyment: