#i love having a terrible sense of humor everything is just so funny

[akascow]

renfield is comedic genius im literally cry laughing real tears bc i just watched ben schwartz snort a centipede like it was fuckin cocaine

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @themetalhiro

Hi, I’m Metal! I’m a freelance artist from good ol’ New Jersey. My favorite things to work with are a lot of bright colors, exaggerated poses, and candid scenarios. I try to farm sensible chuckles whenever I can, so I’m also big into comics. I love making them about my life, and the media I’m into, and one day I’d like to publish my own series!  Thank you to everyone who has gotten me this far!!

Check out Metal's interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I guess so! It’s funny, I don’t remember a single time in my life that I wasn’t drawing as a hobby… somewhere in middle school (a little late, I know.) I put the pieces together that animated movies were made by artists, and that it wasn’t just for fun, they were paid to do it. The moment I discovered people could be paid to make art, I decided I would do that, too. Now I’m here!

How has your style developed over the years?

I think the best way to answer this would be with an example! Over the last few years, I have made more of an effort to draw more intentionally, which sounds silly. Now, I put more thought into my poses and step out of my comfort zone with shape language and composition. I had a phase where I drew everyone with a huge, perfectly circular head and no nose. That definitely did not lend much variety...

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

Ack! I’m so terrible at history! I’d love to give a well-thought-out answer about fine artists of old, but I don't think we’d have much in common… Most artists I admire and who have driven me forward creatively are the people behind comics I’ve read. Andrew Hussie, Bryan Lee O’Malley, Eiichiro Oda... these guys have inspired me greatly and had a heavy influence in developing my art style and sense of humor. I’d love to ask them questions about their processes and upcoming projects. I think it would make for an entertaining night!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

Outside of pure aesthetics like searing bright colors, layered clothing, and loud noises…. the best and most inspiring moments in my life were those surrounded by friends and loved ones! I cherish the hell out of memories of hanging around in fun locations, trying weird food together, and impromptu midnight walks... so I try my best to capture that atmosphere and my own memories in my work when I can, even if I’m imposing fictional characters on top of them. That’s always the core of it.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I would never permanently refuse a medium, but every time I pick up clay, I’m like a baby using its hands for the first time. Absolutely dreadful. If one day I could make and paint a figurine like the ones I admire in videos, that would be awesome... But for now, I’m not counting on it.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I’ve had an absolute blast drawing fanart over the years, and it’s certainly played a massive role in my growth as an artist. But my dream has always been to publish my own stories for y'all to enjoy! I have lots of worlds I want to introduce to you before I’m old and gray. I want to get faster, work harder, and get better at drawing interesting settings so I can get the wheels turning as soon as possible. I also want to stop avoiding the color blue like a coward.

What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating art that you know now?

Pay your taxes quarterly. Tablets will break at the exact moment you need them most, so have a spare. Wear your blue light glasses. You’re going to need to wear a brace on every joint on the right side of your body. It can be lonely sitting at your desk all day. The car on the side of the road that costs $1000 cash….. don’t trust it!!!

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@cranity—They use absolutely beautiful colors and weighty line work. Everything looks so sharp and clean! I wanna put it all up on my wall!

@vewn—Their ability to crank out quality short films and illustrations packed with detail is incredible. The off-kilter perspective they use really sells disorientation and catches your attention like nothing else.

@nelnal—They have absolutely banger character designs again and again, I can’t believe one person’s mind can come up with so many creative ideas!

@jinx88kc—They have a beautiful and recognizable style, and the way they incorporate animation into their illustrations sometimes is SO cool!

Thanks for stopping by, Metal! For more of Metal’s work, follow their Tumblr, @themetalhiro! If you haven't seen their Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here!

[thethronezone]

High Consort Pt. 3

Like mentioned in previous parts, you have a Custodi bodyguard. But you also have a whole guard of Custodes assigned to guard you, on orders of the Emperor of course. Your Custodi bodyguard just so happens to be the captain of this guard and the one that's always directly by your side. Because of this, you are quite close. So what if they work for your husband? So does every other bitch in the Imperium!

Whenever the Emperor leaves for the Great Crusade, it's up to you and Malcador to hold down the fort and make sure that everyone stay in line, both on Terra and beyond. You especially are seen as an extension of the Emperor and his will. This means a lot of public appearances on your part, with you flanked by your personal guard. Your presence reminds people that while the Emperor may be off planet and busy elsewhere, he is still aware of everything that's going on.

Because of this, you rarely leave Terra, or at least the star system. You might visit Luna or Mars every now and then but it's very rare that you venture to another part of the galaxy. You are needed where you are, providing a sense of stability in the heart of the Imperium.

Some people (mostly nobles) believe that, just cause you're not an incredibly buff, 4 meter tall, armored super-psyker that you are for some reason easier deal with, easier to push around. WRONG. You are both equally as terrible, sorry not sorry. The Emperor is unapproachable and straight up railroads every conversation while you just don't give a shit. You are older than most noble's bloodlines, at some point their rules just stop applying to you. The one big difference between you and Big E is that you at least try to act like a normal person, he doesn't, so people just find it easier to approach you.

There's also a belief that since you are HIGH Consort, that the Emperor is open to getting more consorts/concubines. At first this assumption was funny, the two of you had a good laugh about it. Then people kept trying to marry off their family members to him, accosting him at events, sending letters and some downright begging on their knees for him to accept one of their sons of daughters. Then only you were laughing. And Malcador, of course. He also found it all very funny.

Sometimes, when people want something from the Emperor or want to meet him, they try to get through you first. Butter you up so that you will put in a few good words for them to your husband. You might humor them for a short while, pretending to be as shallow as they appear to think you are, but the moment they no longer amuse you or step out of line you'll give your Custodi bodyguard a look that they know well. It means "I am tired of their chatter, remove them from my presence and if they ever try to approach me again, don't let them." You might be immortal but you won't waste your time on people you don't like.

A family can be a super-human psyker, his consort, their unmarried friend, their 10 000 strong personal army, their 20 18 super-human children and their respective super-soldier legions.

Half the Primarchs look at your and the Emperor's marriage and go "aww, so that's what true love looks like" and the other half goes "why haven't you DIVORCED this man yet?" Mortarion, Angron, and Perturabo full on believe you have Stockholm Syndrome or something.

Meanwhile, Lorgar, Horus and Lion think this is the perfect marriage, like, this is what everyone should strive for. Lorgar has written sermons about it and called it the "most divine and holy union in the galaxy". Would threaten to crucify himself if you and the Emperor ever separated. His legion would join him in solidarity. This is a hostage situation.

[kenacoki]

Organized Prompt List

Funny

"Oh my god, i feel like shit." "Gee, I wonder why?

"I have the attention span of a goldfish on speed, and I'm okay with that."

"So, I have a surprise for you..." "Why'd that box just move?"

"If you're feeling down, I highly recommend binge-watching old episodes of 'Friends' and pretending everything's fine."

"It's all shits and giggles until someone giggles and shits." "What the fu-"

"I don't know which is worse: the taste of this coffee or your sense of humor."

"Please tell me you have a spare key..." "...That was the spare key."

"It's three in the morning." "Yeah, and...?"

"Well, that was a terrible idea..." "It was your idea!"

"We've nearly died enough today so please get down before you bust your head open."

"You were so high you had a staring contest with a photograph of my dead grandma."

"I can hear you sighing in disappointment ya' know...you're not exactly subtle."

"If you die, just know I'm bringing you back just so I can put you back in the ground myself!"

“Uhhh…how many of those have you ate?” “I don’t know, like five?”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard all day.” “It’s 9:05 am.”

“I’ve been thinking…” “Well don’t hurt yourself.”

“I need some advice.” “You came to me for advice?”

“Did you go to the doctor?” “No, I slept for nine hours.”

“I think I need therapy.” “I think you need a reality check.”

“Do you remember that time we—” “Don’t…finish that thought.”

Fluff

"Did-Did you just kiss me on the forehead?" "I'm so so sorry, I've been babysitting all week, when I heard you say 'ow', i just acted without thinking."

"Please stop looking at me like that." "Like what?" "All...ya know, soft n' stuff...it’s freaking me out."

“You know, I can tell when you’re mad cause your cheeks turn this cute shade of red.”

“Have I ever told you how cute you are when you pout?”

“Will you just…just hold me?”

“Just pretend to be my date!” “Excuse me?”

“You know how proud you make me, right?”

“Can I…can I hold your hand?”

“Tell me, have you ever seen something more beautiful than this?” “Yeah, you.”

“Hey, I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“Oh my god…you’re jealous!” “I am not!”

“Are you blushing?”

“I love you.” “I know.”

“Would you stay with me…please?”

“I really, really want to kiss you.” “Then do it.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“I mean, yeah I’d make out with them but like—platonically, you know?” “…You-you can’t make out with someone platonically.” “Sure you can! We’ve done it like…I don’t how many times now.”

“Mmm…you’re so warm.”

“So, uh…how’d your date go?”

“Have you ever thought about…us. Y’know, as an item?”

Angst/Hurt

“You told me that I didn’t have to worry about them.”

“Will you just listen to me for a second?” “What do you think you could say that could possibly make this better?!”

“How am I supposed to trust you after that?!”

“Just-just tell me how I can fix this.” “You can’t.”

“Did…did I mean anything to you?”

“I’m sorry—” “Don’t-don’t apologize if you’re just going to keep doing this shit. Apologize when you’re actually going to change.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“You’re here.” “I’m here…just like I promised.”

“You didn’t call. You didn’t text. Nothing.”

“I…I never got the chance to tell you that I love you.” “Maybe that was for the best.”

“Every time I wake up, the first thing I do is look for you…but you’re never there.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “It’s not your job to worry about me.”

“There’s a part of me that still loves you…and I absolutely hate myself for it.”

“You’re in denial—” “I am not in denial!”

“You can’t just keep ignoring your feeling like this.”

“So what, that’s it?” “Yeah…yeah I guess it is.”

“No! You can’t give up like this!”

“It’s…you’re too late.”

“Maybe we should just…stop.”

“I need you to wake up now…cause I can’t do this without you.”

Smut

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, ya know? Someone should teach you what to do with it.”

“You don’t have to do that.” “I want to.”

“C’mon, let’s get you into the bathtub.”

“Who do you want?” “You.”

“Why are you in my bed—wait! Are you naked?!”

“Can I at least take my shoes off before you jump me?” “…I guess.”

“I’ll kiss you if that’s what it takes to shut you up.”

“I swear to god, if I’m late because you can’t keep it in your pants.” “I can’t help it when you look so good.”

“Look at how needy you are, even after everything we’ve done.”

“We…we shouldn’t do this. It’s a bad idea…right?” “Yeah…yeah, definitely a bad idea.”

“I’m about two seconds away from bending you over this counter, don’t push your luck.”

“Bite me.” “I mean, if you’re offering.”

“I told you that I’d take care of you, did you think that I wouldn’t follow through on that?”

“Oh, fuck me.” “That’s the plan!”

“So good for me, just look at how much you came.”

“Oh my god!” “You’d better be quiet if you don’t want everyone to know how much of a slut you are.”

“It’s not my fault you keep turning me on!”

“Are you serious?” “Does it look like I’m joking?”

“This stays between us.”

“There’s people here!” “I know.”

//Dividers// sister-lucifer

[maxdibert]

Could you rank the Weasleys from your favourite to the one you hate the most?

1- Percy. The only Weasley with a brain and enough common sense to have ambitions in life beyond gathering as a family and crying because they’re not rich but are humble. I mean, that’s fine, but the Weasleys made it their whole personality, which is honestly pretty cringe. Percy is basically hated for what? Wanting a future? Honestly, Rowling’s moral framework is quite exhausting.

2- Charlie. Basically because he has the personality of an amoeba and doesn’t bother anyone. He seems to stay outside of his family’s cult-like dynamic, doesn’t he? He’s more independent. Plus, he’s the only one who doesn’t get married or seem destined to produce little Weasleys, so all my respect tbh.

3- Arthur. His obsession with Muggles, like a primatologist observing orangutans, creeps me out, but he doesn’t harm anyone. Compared to his kids and wife, he’s honestly less unbearable.

4- Bill. Here it gets tricky because Bill strikes me as a total creep, being 25 and dating an 18-year-old teenager, then marrying her when she’s 19—seriously, what a cringe-fest. But well, I like him more than the others, so what can I do?

5- Ron. He’s not a character I particularly like, but I don’t dislike him either. As the protagonist’s friend, he always seemed pretty conventional, without any unique traits that would make him stand out from other typical protagonist’s friends. He has his funny moments throughout the series with occasional comments, but his proud Gryffindor attitude shaming Slytherins from book one, before they’ve done anything, really disgusts me. His treatment of Hermione in the fourth book and slut-shaming Ginny in the sixth honestly makes me gag. Sorry.

6- Fred and George are together because they’re always together. I don’t dislike them more than Ron, but honestly, what a pair of bores. I would’ve hated them in class. The typical duo of jokers whose pranks only amuse people with just enough brain cells not to soil themselves. Humor for the cerebrally impaired. They were never funny, just a constant nuisance. If they’d been my schoolmates, I’d have ended up hitting them with an iron rod.

7- Ginny. Honestly, she fiercely competes with her mother for this spot, but Molly annoys me more. Ginny is basically a Mary Sue created just so Harry has a love interest and stays tied to the Weasleys forever. She has absolutely ZERO relevance throughout the series, and you forget about her for three books, but suddenly we’re supposed to believe she’s the hottest girl at Hogwarts? And not just that—she’s also the coolest girl because she’s "not like other girls," doesn’t care about her appearance, is violent, acts like a boy, doesn’t cry, and has all the typical traits of a dude but with a conventionally attractive female appearance. She’s the male fantasy of the "girl bro" who can play video games with you and also give you a handjob. A disgusting stereotype. Plus, she has a terrible personality, is arrogant, and resentful toward women who don’t fit her "tough girl" ideal. Honestly, gross. She’s the opposite of a "girls’ girl," and if you’re not a "girls’ girl," I don’t like you, sorry.

8- Molly. She’s a woman who acts morally superior but is the first to judge people. The typical idle housewife with nothing better to do than judge other women (especially young women) quite unfairly. And, what a coincidence, those women tend to be either brilliant (like Hermione) or extraordinarily attractive (like Fleur). She meddles in everything that doesn’t concern her, has an opinion about everything that’s none of her business, and is the kind of nosy old lady who drives me up the wall. I mean, I can’t stand her. Look, I’m the first to criticize Sirius Black and question his behavior, but her treatment of him in the fifth book was entirely out of line. It’s like she felt entitled to lecture everyone according to her standards, when she’s a woman who hasn’t done anything in her life beyond smothering her kids and complaining about not having much money. Lady, what do you mean you don’t have money? You might not have a manor like the Malfoys, but you can feed seven mouths, and there’s never a plate missing from the table. If she wanted to buy fancy clothes, she could’ve gotten a job. There’s nothing wrong with giving up being a trad wife to afford some treats.

Let’s not make it too obvious that the Weasleys generally disgust me and that I find that family the equivalent of a cult, ticking every box of a perfectly functional, heteronormative, traditional nuclear family that triggers and annoys me to no end. I could never stand being part of such a family through marriage, nor could I tolerate spending much time with one. Families like that make me want to hang myself, sorry.

[blinday]

Fuck it. Um. I'll post it on AO3 tomorrow.

If I don't remember to add something else.

You Ruined Yourself

Chapter 1.

Polite Stranger Smile #2

Ford didn’t know what he'd expected. He hadn’t spoken with his brother in a long time, hadn’t even seen him aside from his infomercials. Ford didn’t like that his face was plastered in those ridiculous things, but it did bring him comfort to see his brother's smile.

Stan's smile was something only he had, one of the few traits they didn’t share. Ford's smiles had always been a bit tight, a bit nervous, because he was never quite relaxed in his own skin; it's hard to be so when you have such a huge sense of alienation. Stan's smiles were bright enough to light up a room. It could be a wide toothy grin with a playful tint to it, or a small subtle smirk of someone you know is proud of you. Ford had loved Stan's smiles, and used to have a mental list of their differences and meanings.

The one Stan was using at that moment was the Polite Stranger Smile #2, mostly used during festivities when they met relatives they were supposed to know but didn’t quite recall who they were. It was a funny smile all things considered, specially because it was usually followed by his favorite, the I Don't Know What I'm Saying, which Stan always directed at Ford as they greeted the unremembered relatives. But right now Stan wasn’t looking at someone else with the Polite Stranger Smile. It was at Ford.

Ford, who had a crossbow pointed at his twin and could not afford to get lost in memories, even though those thoughts pulled at his heart in a way that made it hard to breathe. He had to focus, focus.

"Were you followed?" He inquired, looking over his brother's shoulder but never leaving the crossbow unaimed. Stan narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, his smile straining. It was now more akin to a grimace.

"No. And I know because that's totally a concern normal people who aren't doing anything wrong have." He said, and Ford couldn’t tell if Stan was being sarcastic or not. He couldn't do it without much concentration in good days, so trying now would be futile at best. He decided to not press the matter further, and tried to pull Stan in to check his eyes.

Only, Stan stayed firmly planted in his place, looking at him with that same grimmace, slightly furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. He was suspicious. Scared? It was hard to read him, now. Ford would not think about this now.

"I'm sorry bro, I am sure you don't have any terrible or vengeful intentions, but I'm not getting in while you have that crossbow in hands." He said breathily, like he was trying to say something serious with a humorous delivery. Ford frowned and slowly put down the crossbow.

Stan followed Ford's pull, and Ford checked his eyes. Stan stared at him, not even pretending he wasn’t weirded out by the situation at this point. Stan sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Good to see you don't think I'm a junkie." He said with what Ford knew to be sarcasm, so he had to stop for a second. Upon further thought, yeah, he could see why Stan would think he'd thought that.

"No, no, I just had to... You could've been..." Ford looked away, trailling off. "It's complicated."

Stan seemed fine. He could handle this task, right? But what if he couldn’t understand? What if it was too much? But if he didn't explain, what if Bill got to him? He had to explain everything. Yes, yes. He could do this. Stan could do this.

"Uh, you gonna explain what's going on, here? You're acting like Mom after her tenth cup of coffee." Stan said, interrupting Ford's musings. Ford looked at him and took a deep breath.

"Listen, there isn't much time. I've made huge mistakes and I don't know who I can trust anymore." From the corner of his eye he saw his research skeleton (for anatomycal comparisons with gnomes) flash a bright yellow eye at him, and quickly turned it away. They weren't safe. What if Stan didn’t understand? What if they really were just strangers sharing a face after all these years? Ford started pacing, muttering to himself.

"Hey, uh, easy there." Stan had both his hands extended like he was trying to calm down a wild animal. Which, fair enough, Ford could concede he might look a little... rough. "Let's talk this through, okay?"

"I have something to show you. Something you won't believe." Ford said, rubbing his hands. Everything felt scratchy, like his consciousness was just barely there. Stan smiled, and this time it was his reassuring one. Ford liked this one. Their childhood was filled with this smile, reflecting how their own mom smiled at them.

"Look, I've been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I'll understand." Stan said. Ford hoped he was right, but knew he couldn’t be.

Ford led his brother towards his secret lab, and only as they stood in the elevator, did he stop to notice Stanley himself. Ford was hungy and exhausted and on the lookout for a demon who threatened to gouge his eyes from its sockets. He couldn't afford to pay attention to these details at every waking moment, but it didn’t mean he didn’t care. He just had a lot in his mind.

Stan had a tidy jacked that looked well worn, but cared for. His hair was wrapped in a ponytail, and he had a bit of beard on his chin. He looked nice. Didn’t have huge bags under his eyes like Ford, and didn’t look too thin. He wasn’t as big as when they were teenagers, but strongly built. Ford was glad. He'd always had a tiny voice at the back of his head worrying if Stanley would be able to make it alone in the big world, specially when they were teens. But by the looks of it he'd been fine.

It almost made him mad. Stanley was here, a fully functional adult with his 5 normal fingers and no demons to haunt him, after costing Ford everything. No, no, not now. He couldn't let himself go that way. He had to finish this. He turned on the lights as they walked into the lab, revealing his beloathed portal.

Stan gaped. Ford expected something like 'there is nothing about this that I understand', maybe a joke about it being a doomsday portal, or just a questioning look. He hadn’t expected Stan to look at him like he fully understood what he'd done, the magnitude of the situation, how much danger they and the whole wolrd could be in, like he got it.

"Ford," Stan said in a raspy, breathy voice lacking any of his usual humour. "What the fuck did you do?"

[rippersz]

𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺, 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺

───※ ·❆· ※───

───※ ·❆· ※───

(An OC/Named Reader x Larissa Weems one-shot) (Bittersweet/angsty. Possible part 2 depending on feedback.)

Summary: Odette sends a letter and it ends up in the wrong hands.

───※ ·❆· ※───

‘January 11th, 2023

Odette,

I am terribly sorry to inform you that the letter you sent to a woman named Mirabelle did not end up in her hands. I believe the mail carriers fell short along the way and got it mixed up within my pile of documents; thus my wayward response to you. Considering the nature of your words (I must admit I read them - my actions were caused by split curiosity and confusion), I suggest you re-envelope and reseal your letter before sending it again. I have slipped it in with this one. And if you choose to listen to me, then we shall both hope your sentiments arrive to Mirabelle in a timely fashion with no surprise stops along the way. Until then, someone must tell her that she is a very lucky woman.

And that I am very sorry she broke your heart.

Happy New Year Odette. Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 18th, 2023

Larissa,

Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness. I am far sorrier than you are. Obviously if I knew that was going to happen, I would not have let it. Okay that doesn’t make much sense, but I’m sure you know what I mean. I think. Hopefully? Anyway, thank you very much for sending the letter back. I gave myself some time to think it over and did as you suggested. New envelope, new seal, new everything. Except the perfume on the letter was different. Are you wearing Jean Paul Gaultier? It’s very nice. Mirabelle may appreciate the mix of scents (I’m wearing Marc Jacobs - Daisy), so at least she’ll get something out of it. The words, on the other hand, I’m not so sure. That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily. That’s a big flaw, I think. Oh well. I guess rambling’s a flaw too. And here I am. Forgive me?

Thank you again. Happy New Year. Odette’

‘January 23rd, 2023

Dear Odette,

Please don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault, as you know. And if I knew the letter did not concern me at all, I would not have read it. But, I’m sort of glad that I did. It was perhaps one of the best letters I’ve ever read in my entire life. Are you a writer, by any chance? If not, you should consider becoming one. The rambling could add a nice personal touch - it’s not as big a flaw as you think it is. It certainly introduced me to your keen sense of smell. Speaking of which, Daisy is wonderful. I may have a roll-on tube of that somewhere. Otherwise, you’re correct. La Belle was released in 2019, it has become my new personal favorite. Are you a perfume collector? Or perhaps a bloodhound? I jest, I jest. Though I do appreciate the follow-up. If Mirabelle doesn’t appreciate your love, I may have to send her a letter myself. That being said, please let me know what she says? If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.

Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 29th, 2023

To Larissa,

You are far too kind. I write in my free time, yes, but I’m not sure I’m good enough to become a writer. However, your support still means a lot - even from all the way in California. Quite a long way, right? Crazy how paths cross. Anyway, I’m not a perfume collector, no. But my friend, Cassie, wears the same kind. I know for certain that she’d say you have good taste. And I’d agree. That bloodhound comment was funny. I know you can’t hear my giggling, but trust me when I say I am. I wish I could be as witty, but I don’t know what to say. My humor is typically made up of making fun of people. Do you have a guilty pleasure I can harp on? An embarrassing secret? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. And as soon as I get something back, I’ll let you know. Don’t start writing just yet.

Best, Odette’

‘February 5th, 2023,

Odette,

Telling you my secrets already? My, I believe we’ve skipped a few steps. What happened to a favorite color? A favorite memory? An age or profession, perhaps? If you couldn’t tell by now, I am still jesting. One of my guiltiest pleasures, though you may find it juvenile and silly, is the fact that I am a huge chocolate fiend. Many of my coworkers are aware that the best drink to buy me is a hot chocolate - hold the whipped cream. I am watching my figure after all. And because I pity your lack of matched wit, I’ll tell you that my biggest secret is the fact that I quite enjoy Taylor Swift’s music. Don’t ask me about my favorite song, I don’t think I could choose just one. Oh is that- is that the sound of your giggling? Maybe I can hear it from here, Ms. California. Now it’s your turn to hear mine. In the meantime, enlighten me on what you write about. I’m thinking poetry and free-form, with a focus on romance. I do a bit of writing myself from time to time, but it’s always in a diary. Never further. Perhaps you can do both of us justice and contemplate publishing? I’ll be the first to run to the shelves.

I hope you are well, Larissa W.’

‘February 13th, 2023

Dear chocolate fiend,

White. My first trip to New York City after Mirabelle. I arrived in the afternoon, went to see a movie, grabbed dinner and headache pills on the way back to my hotel room, and couldn’t sleep for the entire night. So I went out at 3 AM to see Times Square. It was only a block away and let me tell you, Larissa, it was beautiful. It was unlike anything. I felt safe for the first time in a while - beneath all of those lights. I was invincible. Not even loneliness could touch me. 27 and counting. Secretary. And potential writer. Someone I met recently has been trying to push me further into my hobby- to really adopt the lifestyle. You wouldn’t know them, though. Them? They/them? Please correct me if I’m wrong, Larissa. These letters wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable if I was calling you something you weren’t. As for me, I go by she/her. Mirabelle did as well. Does? Did? I’m not sure - I haven’t heard anything back yet. But that may be for the best. Horrid segue here (shame on little writer Odette), but Taylor Swift? Wow, I must be giggling quite loudly. HA HA HA HA HA!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!! I swear that one day I’ll get a laugh out of you as well. In the meantime, as you say, I’ll happily inform you that you’re a psychic of some sort. Yes, I write poetry and free-form romance. Novels have never been my thing though. But if I did write any, I’d have to say psychological horror is a favorite. I may give it a crack if you’d edit for me? Unless you’re terribly busy, Ms. Vermont. Then please don’t worry your pretty little head.

I hope you’re ‘weller’ than I am, Odette

(P.S. Happy Valentines Day)’

‘February 19th, 2023

Dear sweet poet,

Do forgive the late response. Work has been keeping me busy; but if you’re serious about editing, I’m sure I can set some time apart for you. That memory of yours does sound quite glorious - nearly heavenly. Such freedom is a dream for many people, myself somewhat included, so I admit I’m the tiniest bit jealous. However, I could always visit the city in the summer. Times Square is already calling my name… maybe I’ll even see a certain 27 year old stranger there. Maybe we could even grab hot chocolate. But I suppose you’d rather enjoy your independence. That being said, you are quite correct - they/them is one of my preferred pronouns. Much like yourself and the mysterious Mirabelle, she/her is another. And I’m glad we both agree that these letters are quite a treat. I have not had a pen-pal in quite a long time. My old roommate and I used to talk after we graduated, but times change. Much like they did for you and Mirabelle. I believe I may have loved my roommate in that way, too… but it’s as I said. Then again, she was always more of a psychic than me. I just got lucky. As for the answers to my questions, I’m quite sure none of those were secrets. Unless, of course, your favorite color is known only by myself. In which case, I’d consider myself lucky again. But either way, come to the table please Odette. Tell me yours - but only if you wish to.

Weller is not a word, Best, Larissa W.’

‘February 23rd, 2023

Dear Larissa,

Weller is a word if I want it to be. That is my secret. No, but in all seriousness, you’re correct. Fair is fair. So I’ll grant you this: I’m a redhead. Ugh I know! I know! It’s terrible. Horrible. I’m sorry. If you find that you can’t stand me anymore, I understand. A writer, secretary, AND a redhead? What’s next? An FBI agent? I can’t disclose that information. Speaking of which, you have yet to answer your own questions. All is fair in love and pen-paling, am I right or am I right Larissa? It’s okay. You can admit it. I’m right. Just like I’m right in saying that your roommate made a big mistake if she’s not with you now. Speaking from experience, love like that is not something one finds often. I’d say I’m glad you experienced it, for it has its good moments, but I know that the ache can be bad. Quite bad. Not to worry, though! If you figure you want to send her a letter, you may get a pen-pal out of it. Kind of neat, huh?

I’m sorry she broke your heart, too. What a foolish woman. Tsk tsk.

Best, Odette’

‘February 28th, 2023

To the resident redhead,

How could you betray me like this? A redhead? On the other side of these pages? I feel scorned. Scorned and touched. Very much like a writer to offer comfort for an offhand comment. I appreciate the sentiment more than you know. And just for your information, Ms. I’m-Always-Right: Silver. Getting my teachers certification and celebrating with a few friends before life pulled us in different directions. It was a wonderful night. I haven’t laughed so much since - and that was quite a while ago. 32 next year. Principal. I do hope that was enough to sate your burning curiosity; I’m sure you can be at ease now. And since I do so enjoy meeting you halfway, I’ll tell you that I’m very fair-haired. Very. Perhaps one day you’ll see. Until then, don’t let the curiosity kill you little cat.

Best, Larissa W.’

‘March 5th, 2023’

‘March 12th, 2023’

‘March 16th, 2023’

‘April 14th, 2023’

‘May 21st, 2023’

‘June 9th, 2023’

...

And the months went on.

And on.

And on.

And every few days, another letter came. Another letter went. Another letter was written. Another letter was sealed. Another letter was received. Another letter was cherished. Kept. Forever a lovely memory. Larissa and Odette went and went and went- on and on and on- exchanging and smiling as each paragraph grew in length. From this to that and whatever else they could find to think about; they formed a banter and connection like no other. Poking fun, making jokes, referencing previous letters, gossiping until their hearts were content. Purring within their chests, eagerly awaiting another letter. It kept their days moving. It kept their souls dancing. From miles away, they cheered each time they saw the thin familiar scrawl of Larissa’s writing and the loopy tilted words of Odette’s penmanship. At one point, they even tried copying each other’s style. It was hilarious. It had both of them laughing at the same time - and later doing it purely to mock. Such things, little but large, were frequent and lovely. One time, Odette mailed a perfume scent strip of her new favorite; and Larissa, never one to be outdone, sent a roll-on tube of La Belle. Odette got so ticked off she made her promise that they stick to letters and paper only. Larissa, usually a stubborn soul, agreed. That was their dynamic. Their push and pull. Their agree to disagree. Never did they fight; rarely did they not see eye to eye; and constantly did they playfully argue. It was small things- small insignificant little things- but they moved the conversation along. And it made them smile. It made them laugh. And during the hardest parts, the parts in which life pinched at their skin and dragged at their souls, it made them cry. It made them weep. It made them open up. It led to Odette confessing that Mirabelle had left her and it led to Larissa confessing that Morticia had left her as well. Two women, two ships in the night, both of which got away. And not gently, not two slow drifts into the night, but a harsh yank. Morticia left school with a man on her arm and Mirabelle returned to California one day from a business trip in France with a ring on her finger. The two of them agreed that it was funny how life likes to slap lovers in the face. That it was funny how life likes to get in the way. And enjoys ending good things and ruining them. Taking them away too quickly. With no warning at all. Without a single goodbye.

The last letter Odette sent was on October 28th, 2024.

Larissa hadn’t responded to her previous one. Or the one before that. And eventually, after much contemplation, she gave up. It wasn’t healthy- worrying so much. Odette figured that perhaps, finally, her worst fear came true and that Larissa realized their little arrangement was more odd than she thought. That she knew virtually nothing about Odette, not even her last name. And that she didn’t find her amusing anymore and didn’t want to associate with her anymore and didn’t want to even say hello. Or goodbye. Or anything in between.

It broke her heart a little bit.

Okay it broke her heart a lot a bit.

The radio silence left Odette living on autopilot for weeks. Months. Nearly half a year. She’d get up, check her mailbox, and go to work - only to come home, check her mailbox, and go to bed - just to do the same thing over and over and over again. Day and night. Night and day. It was worse than Mirabelle. It was worse than anything. No amount of teenage angst or familial grief could get over the deep void left within her soul once those letters stopped coming. Once the friend she found by accident, the kindred spirit she stumbled upon, the woman she lov-…. well. Once that one person decided never to write again.

Though like most difficult things that left her raw, Odette’s heart began scabbing over. She cleared her desk, packed away the special pens she used, put the paper neatly into a box, and tucked the leftover Larissa letters away right along with those sweet memories. Then she put them into the back of a closet she rarely rifled through… and tried to forget it was all there. The La Belle, which she rarely touched, was hidden in her pajama drawer at the very back- wrapped up in old T-shirts she no longer wore. And every other thing that existed around her, that reminded her of Larissa, was pushed out of sight. Out of sight and out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight… out of mind.

The company was celebrating her 5 year anniversary. They wanted to fly her out to Vermont. Jericho, Vermont. To have a little vacation there. To enjoy life. To fucking torture her.

She almost didn’t go. She almost canceled entirely. She almost quit her goddamn job because that was the same job she had when she first met Lar-…..

But she went anyway. Vermont was large enough. She’d be fine.

And she was, much to her surprise. She was entirely fine. It was a beautiful change of season; the air was crisp, the trees were changing color- morphing back into sunny greens. The world enjoyed its rain as April introduced May to Jericho and as the year of 2025 blossomed into being. Odette spent her days reading, taking walks, basking in the beauty of the log cabin the company rented for her. It was truly lovely. Truly a dream come true. And she didn’t even think- didn’t even wonder- about the other ship that got away from her. That barely even brushed past her, or lingered, before parting the water and skating away into the night all those months ago.

It was blissful. It reminded her of New York. Of that freedom- that independence- that song within her soul, dredged up from the depths.

But there was one thing.

One tiny little thing.

One little reminder that never left her. That she didn’t let go of.

“Hot chocolate, no whip, for Odette?”

A small smile grew on her lips as she slid out of the booth and made her way up to the counter. The young man met her eyes, returned the smile, and gestured to the warm cup on the counter with a nod of his head.

“Thank you lots.” And with that, she retreated to her booth.

Hot chocolate.

She wasn’t going to give up hot chocolate, let alone any chocolate at all, just because a distant soul enjoyed it. The whipped cream was something she wanted, but… old habits did always die hard, didn’t they? Oh most definitely. And as Odette reclined against the comfortable seat, eyes tracking the screen of her work laptop, hot chocolate firmly placed on the coaster to her right, she lived up to that sentiment with no room to spare. Leaving work at home was hard. She dove into it some time ago; dedicating more time, thinking, and hours into the well-oiled machine of her job just to distract her from everything outside of it. When she was there, responding, taking calls, managing dates and meetings and this, that, and the other, the world fell silent. Into a distant buzzy din. Into a land of muffled sounds and unimportant chatter - like her head was dunked under water as soon as she opened her emails. To a certain extent, it was calming. Repetitive and not at all that difficult after she figured out a proper routine; the worst part was dealing with those who couldn’t write properly. And in the professional world, that was rare. Well- if a person wanted to keep their job of course. And she definitely wanted to keep hers. It was fulfilling. Enriching. She made some friends, she shook some hands, she reassured her bosses. They knew she was reliable. Friendly. Odette never faltered. And they counted on that. Counted on her. Gave her the time of day. Responded when they could. Cherished her like a human. Like a friend. Unlike-

“Larissa? Hot chocolate, no whip?”

Odette blinked.

The muffled bubble popped. The world flooded back. She looked up from her screen.

Was she going mad? Crazy? Bonkers, finally? After all that time? Had she misheard? Maybe the young man said Patricia. Or Melissa. Or-

“Larissa! Hey, long time no see!”

Larissa.

Odette turned around in her seat so fast, she nearly broke her neck. She shuffled to the end of the booth, peered around the side, eyes wide and hands gripping the edge of the table… only to feel her excitement die as soon as it existed.

Of course. Foolish her. She didn’t know what Larissa looked like. She never got a proper description. Never got a photograph. Or a phone number. Or anything at all. Just a P.O. Box and a state. Just… nothing.

“Hello Jerry, it has been a while, hasn’t it? How are you?”

No, she- well she did get something. She got little things. Details. Odette’s brow furrowed as her eyes, hazel and starry and glazed over with apprehension and fear and admiration and horror, ran up and down the woman’s body. She was tall. Larissa never mentioned tall. She was curvy. Larissa never mentioned curvy.

‘I am watching my figure after all.’

…She was stylish. Larissa never mentioned style and fashion.

“Oh I’m good, I’m good. What about you? How’s the semester going?”

“I’m well, thank you. It’s… well it’s definitely going, Jerry.” They shared a laugh.

She was English. Larissa never mentioned being English. She wore gloves. Larissa never mentioned gloves. She-

Wait. Semester?

‘Getting my teachers certification…’ ‘Principal.’

Odette felt her heart drop.

But-

“I’m sure it is! I- oh shoot. More customers. Sorry, Larissa. Can we catch up later?”

“Of course Jerry. You know where to find me. Until next time.”

Hazel eyes watched the stranger wave. Then turn around.

Oh.

Dear lord…

She didn’t recognize her- not really- but the fair hair, which only registered then… and the silver jewelry. And the… the…

Odette watched as the woman walked past. She watched and she felt her heart in her ears- pounding, clawing, dancing- as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. So deeply. So deeply it made her lungs ache. So deeply it made her soul tear in two.

La Belle.

Odette had never packed up her things so quickly. She never slammed her laptop closed so fast, never slid it into her bag so messily, never threw the bag over her shoulder or shoved her wallet into her pocket or grabbed the hot chocolate with such vigor ever before. Not once in her life. And rarely did she act so impulsively- not after Larissa. But seeing her then, somehow knowing deep within her soul that it was her… it broke- snapped- the thin resolve of Odette’s sanity and sent her flying out of the Weathervane like a bat out of Hell. She was burning up inside. Electric. Her eyes held fire and ice and so much warmth, so much desperation, that she nearly toppled over herself in her hurry.

The woman- Larissa- was a fast walker. Her long legs took her far as she distractedly typed on her phone with one hand and held the cup of hot chocolate in the other. Odette, being short and clumsy, was red and out of breath by the time she got close enough to call out her name. And call, she did. Call, cry, silently plead, she did.

“LARISSA!”

It was loud. Like a roar. Like a harrowing yell. Like something that held months and months and months of pain and sorrow and grief behind it. It instantly made her throat hurt, running it raw in only a second, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care at all. Not when her voice got Larissa to stop in her tracks and turn around, eyes searching and confused.

Of course, as to be expected, she had no clue who she was. Not even an inkling. Larissa got no description either - not even a photo. All she knew was that Odette had red hair. And that a woman with red hair was storming toward her, all fucks thrown to the wind, sneakers smacking the pavement hard as she stomped down the sidewalk. Larissa looked utterly puzzled, slightly mortified, entirely put off by the sight of such a determined stranger. Like she wasn’t sure if she had done something wrong and if she had, she wasn’t sure how to fix it. But Odette would tell her. Odette would make it known.

“What the fuck?” was the first thing out of her mouth.

A rather harsh introduction, but necessary nonetheless. She didn’t even really mean to say it, but the surprised widening of Larissa’s eyes had a twisted spark of satisfaction spiraling up within her soul.

And her outburst, naturally, meant many things. Not just ‘What the fuck?’ but ‘What the fuck? Why did you disappear? What did I do? Did I hurt you? Did I say something? Did something happen to you? Do you feel sorry? Do you miss me? Do you wish you responded? Do you hope to never hear from me again? Did you always know this would happen? Did you ever even bother to think that you should tell me you’re that beautiful? What the fuck, why are your eyes so blue? And why are they piercing? Staring at me? Heavenly and deep and never-ending? Like.. oceans… and why are your lips so soft looking and plump and red? Where did that scar come from? Do you hate it? Do you know that I like it even though I’m only seeing it now for the first time ever? Did you always wear your hair like that? How long does it take you to get it like that? How does it feel to take it out after a long day? Did you know your makeup is flawless? And that your jawline is magnificent? And that you’re so tall… and you look so strong… inside and out… and why the fuck did you not mention you were British? English? What does it matter? Just what the fuck? Why the fuck? How the fuck? What the fuckity fuck?!’

But overall, it only meant ‘What the fuck? Why didn’t you say goodbye?’

“I beg your pardon?”

Unfortunately, Larissa could never read minds. Or hearts. So the vague pangs of longing, like old rusted blood, only ached harder as the taller woman blinked and frowned.

A blush painted Odette’s cheeks. Right. Somehow, along the way of admiring, she’d forgotten. Larissa had no idea who she was.

“Um.” Clearing her throat, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. Suddenly, things were very awkward. Terribly awkward. So horribly bloody awkward. It was a wonder if Larissa could feel the odd lull in conversation, the sudden dousing of Odette’s flames, but it didn’t really matter. If she wanted to, Odette was sure that if she chose to walk away, if she chose to take one last look before turning around and never coming back, then Larissa would never know. Then she’d just be another story. Another odd memory to tell her children one day, if she ever wished to have them. In her letters, the taller woman admitted that she didn’t think she ever would. But Odette always had a feeling that she’d be an amazing mother. Looking at her then, taking in the perfect posture and the crisp seams of her clothing, the feeling became fact. Larissa would be the best mom.

Funny that… there was a time, long ago, where Odette fantasized about making sandwiches for picnics and uprooting her entire life. Just to see the proud smile on her pen-pal’s face as her child grew and grew and grew and flourished. And maybe even ended up calling her ‘mom’ one day too.

But as Larissa wrote once upon a time, things changed. Time went on. And that was how it was.

So she could turn around. She could very well wrench herself from her spot and drag herself back the way she came. She could apologize, tell her she was mistaken, and that she was sorry - and then she could walk off into the sunset and pretend nothing ever happened. She could burn the letters. She could burn the very memory of her. She could forget the name ‘Larissa’ entirely and all would be left to rest. And that would be that. Que sera, sera.

But Odette was never the type to give up easily. Mirabelle, wherever she was, could attest.

So instead of abandoning ship, she powered through.

“It’s Odette,” came her firm tone. She straightened her back and tilted her head to look up properly, trying to stand tall in the face of heartache.

But heartache didn’t recognize her.

“Have we… met before?” Larissa blinked, turning to present her full attention.

Odette flushed red. Angry. Sad. Liberated.

“Have- have we met before?” She repeated, scoffed, outraged by her old friend’s obliviousness. “Just how many Odettes do you know?!” Her hands ran to her hips, firmly rooting themselves there as she began tapping her foot and glowering.

Such a display had Larissa scanning her from head to toe, desperately scrambling for understanding and recognition. The loose T-shirt, the black leggings, the sneakers, the hazel eyes, the pretty features, the freckles, the plump cheeks and curved body, the bag on her shoulder, the hair on her head. Red. Fiery. Standing out against the blue of the sky like a stain on white fabric. Messy curls and natural red red red.

Red… red…

Odette watched as Larissa froze. Her lips fell open, her eyes widened, she could practically see the way her heart stopped in her chest.

She remembered.

She remembered.

“…Odette?”

The shorter woman nodded, slowly feeling the anger and excitement drain from her body. It was fun being anonymous for just a moment. It was fun being the only one that remembered - having the chance to feel properly scorned and betrayed. But that didn’t last very long. The come down was harsh. Quick. A fall from immense grace. Especially when she saw the tears. They welled up in Larissa’s eyes, glossy and wet, making those sapphires shine. So swift they were. So rapid. As if sparked by Odette’s very existence.

Though maybe Larissa wasn’t the one that was tearing up. Maybe it was just her. Maybe the haze of the world, growing slightly blurry, was caused by the water that threatened to fall over her own lashes.

“Yeah.” It was all she could think to say.

For even with all of her passion, even with her love of words and her many discarded story drafts (all coincidentally started in the year 2023), even with whatever eloquence she was naturally born with, Odette couldn’t come up with a single meaningful thing to say. There was much, of course. But none of it fit. None of it made sense. Everything that lingered on her tongue, finally unlodging itself from the stickiness of her throat, was too heavy. Too heavy for the moment. Too heavy for the sidewalk. Too heavy for the side of the street. Too heavy for Jericho. Out in the open. Vermont. Miles away from home. Too close too close too close. Too much all at once. Maybe running after her was a bad idea. Maybe taking the vacation was even worse. Maybe sending that letter to Mirabelle in the first place was the poignant moment in which she should have changed her mind and threw it away when she considered it.

But she hadn’t.

And so there she was, staring up at Larissa, suddenly helpless. That ship that passed her in the night all those months ago had come back around; except that time she had stumbled upon it herself. And she wasn’t entirely sure if she was grateful- or terrified. Maybe the ship hated her. Maybe the ship would crash into her and ruin her and maybe the ship would begin shooting cannons. Maybe the ship would continue right past her. Maybe the ship would-

-hug her?

Odette blinked, very much unsure of what was happening as soon as she felt the comforting weight of long arms pushing themselves under her biceps and interlocking behind her back. La Belle and the soft clean smell of faded shampoo filled her senses. Her nose. Her lungs. Her eyes. Her heart. And soul. Part of her was so confused it wanted to grasp Larissa’s shoulders and shove her off. And the other part of her, the part of her that had dreams about receiving another letter from the one that broke her heart, wanted to give in.

‘That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily.’

Odette’s arms pressed against Larissa’s waist. Their holds were odd, skewed by the cups of hot chocolate they held and the other items in their grasps. But nonetheless, it was… it was unlike anything. Each breath died on Odette’s tongue. She felt the atoms in her brain disappear. Like they never existed at all.

“I’m sorry.” It was said so softly, she was near certain it wasn’t uttered at all. But then Larissa was pulling back, hands shaking as she brought them to her lips. “I’m sorry.”

There was grief in her eyes. A sadness that not even the most haunted of poets could explore, nor understand, nor emulate. It gleamed. It cut Odette in half. It had her taking steps back, suddenly unsure. Suddenly disoriented.

“What-… what happened?” She was breathless, bewildered at the sight of regret swimming in Larissa’s eyes.

The taller woman opened her mouth… then hesitated. Her gaze burned through her old friend- then twitched away and ran over the world around them. The sidewalk, the street, the shops, the Weathervane, the town itself. They were out in the open. And their… reunion… was too good for that. Too painful for that. Odette watched as Larissa’s lower lip quivered; as the thoughts ran through her mind at the speed of light. And before she even spoke, she knew what she was going to say.

“Please, come with me,” her voice was soft. Silken. Heavy with guilt. Pouring with unspoken words.

It was Odette’s turn to hesitate. Years… nearly. However much time. She didn’t really know. She stopped keeping track once she realized she was losing sleep over it. Hours upon hours of sleep. It affected her work - it affected her body. It slit the throat of her life and dragged it through dirt. ‘It’ being the silence. ‘It’ being the goodbye that never came. ‘It’ being Larissa, Larissa, Larissa.

The same Larissa who held an apology wound up in her lungs. The same Larissa who looked down at her as if she couldn’t quite believe she was real, standing before her, breathing and living. The same Larissa whose shaking hands held a cellphone and a cup of hot chocolate that was swiftly running cold. The same Larissa with the same shining eyes that glistened with tears and crackling memories and affection, warmth, that seemed so out of place. Years without the comfort of that dove-like soul… years without the… the love? Love? Is that what they had? Perhaps it was too little too late to wonder. Perhaps Odette was just dipping into wishful thinking. Giving into the dreams she repeated over the years. With every word, every breath, every letter - she found herself begging. Pleading. ‘Please. Please please please invite me to Vermont. See me. Know me. These pages are killing me.’ All of it secretly scrawled between her slanting lines. Running in circles behind her hazel eyes. Displayed for Larissa, even though Larissa did not exist before her at the time.

Not like she did in that moment. In Jericho. In tears.

“Let me explain, Odette. I meant- I… just- give me a chance.” Larissa blinked her tears away and straightened her shoulders, tone growing desperate, body growing tense.

Never before did she sound like that in their letters. But never before did she leave Odette for so long. Interesting circumstances… Funny how life ended things so quickly. Funny how life brought out the truth in a person when they felt themselves tugged at a loss. Pushed to their knees. Though she said she had an explanation… and her old friend had never been a liar.

“Okay,” Odette breathed, clearing her throat. “Okay.”

“Really?”

‘Yes of course, really,’ Odette thought, looking at her with a mix of surprise and anger and devotion. ‘What are you, mad? I’d never just walk away. I’d never just give up. I can’t help myself. I never could. You know this. You know me.’

───※ ·❆· ※───

I quite enjoyed writing this. Might take a break from writing 'Heat' and 'To People Watch One Person' for a bit- same with requests. For the foreseeable future, whatever comes to mind will be written. I've started watching GOT again... and a certain Ser of Tarth has strummed the strings of my heart {as always} so maybe expect something with her? Dunno. Either way, thank you for staying with me. You mean the moon and stars, believe me. - Ripley x

───※ ·❆· ※───

[brutally-loving]

Okay lengthy thing of information about Krue's f/os!! TWINK EDITION- (I'm talking about Clavicus)

Heads up, will be long! And full of rambling and cursing.

Clavicus Vile. Daedric Prince of Bargains, Trickery, Wishes, Serenity, and being a stupid asshole. Oh and power but he's also pathetic so?? Oh well!

He's technically a deity of sorts, but he's considered a more "unpure" one due to him not helping in the creation of the world and all. He's incredibly sociable, he loves to meddle with people and enjoys being cruel quite frequently. He often makes impressive things, and then takes them away when it's most convenient/funny for him to do so, just to cause problems. He acts like a shitty genie sometimes in the "here have your wish but HAHA I FUCKED YOU OVER WITH LITERAL WORDING-" way. He's not too unlike our world's Fae, he's just?? Kind of fucking a menace- He has a twisted sense of humor, and generally makes impulsive-ish choices that he fully dedicates himself to? He's very capable of thinking out long term though, he isn't stupid after all. He's an old ass deity- He holds grudges VERY firmly and abhors feeling slighted, which isn't surprising at all, but he isn't the worst about losing. He prefers to get what he wants but he kind of accepts the consequences of his actions when they hit him- (even if he doesn't like the fact that he was TOLD NOT TO DO IT-)

It's interesting. He's speculated to be sort of lonely, in all actuality. He craves social interaction and such, which is made apparent by how often he interacts with others just to have fun and amuse himself. He has also been known to quite literally give independent sapience to beings and items he creates, which is very unusual for Daedric Princes. His most notable being Barbas, who's got a large chunk of his power due to one of Clavicus' questionable failed choices. Barbas is generally shown as either a dog, or a much larger and more intimidating looking Daedra. He serves as Clavicus' conscience, morality, and companion. He's apparently gotten on Clavicus's nerves for this though-

Speaking of which -- the guy is so stubborn? And childish- Barbas puts up with a LOT from him. Clavicus is a YAPPER. He likes to do things without burdens of morality, and because Barbas tries to encourage otherwise... well, Clavicus bitches him out. Thinks he's irritating. Ditched him for a few hundred years for it and everything. He's so petty...

Anyway at this point, you're probably thinking "Krue this man sounds fucking insufferable what's wrong with you"

And that's a great question dear friend! Uhh I don't know I was playing his quest and my brain went "I NEED HIM-" it was weird idk

He's MY terrible, insufferable, clingy and emotionally constipated deity. That's it- that's the whole thing-

I think it's very interesting how one of his domains is serenity, despite how bad and kind of chaotic he can be. Just like how his personal realm (which are known to be reflections of the Princes themselves) is known for its buildings made of glass, its grassy meadows, how weirdly conflicting so many elements of it are. He's just?? Complex. He's no one note fucker and I love this for him.

I firmly believe that he could heal from SOME of his behavior and shit if he had a companion to bounce off of... that didn't try to rule his morality and such- and I WANT TO BE THAT!!! I WANT TO SUPPORT HIM IN HIS RIGHTS AND WRONGS- I WANT

OKay normal again

Anyway twirls hair he's my boyfriend and I love him so ✌️ I need to like think about our dynamic and shit a bit more to phrase it for y'all so you can feel free to ask specific questions if you wanna idk?

@jpeg-indulgence uhh I saw your comment on one of my posts so SHOUTOUT TO YOU this is for you gang now you can hear about my stupid little bastard...

[melonteee]

Hey Melon!

I was watching your video on chapter 1113 & when you were talking about Sanji & Bonney's I got so excited. I hadn't initially noticed all the childhood parallels between them (agree with u 100% tho), but I do think Sanji is becoming her favorite Strawhat & that they have a dynamic/growing bond that Oda seems to want us to pay attention to.

However, I was assuming that Bonney was sort of imprinting (might not be the best word) on Sanji. We all know Sanji is very kind to girls so I think Bonney has only seen his best side & I think his specific brand of kindness might be reminding her of her daddy. Kuma & Sanji also both have terrible martyr complexes so she might be getting the same vibes from them & naturally gravitating towards Sanji because of it.

For all we know Bonney will be a true orphan after the arc and since she's still so young it would make sense for her to be looking for a parental figure even if it was subconsciously. That coupled with the points you brought up of how Sanji would be able to understand her in a way maybe the others wouldn't makes me more confident in my gut feeling.

I personally believe Bonney is actually being set up to be the last member of the crew so Oda adding in this dynamic between her & Sanji would help her integrate better. Maybe Oda wants Sanji to parent & mentor a child the same way Zeff did since Sanji looks up to & desires to emulate the kind of man his "true" father is? He has such a strong desire to protect & it would be sweet to see him able to put all that energy towards one person.

I also just think it would be funny to give Sanji a surrogate baby sister/daughter given how outlandish he can be sometimes. We already have Bonney calling him a "good man" (ur like 10 girl what do YOU know 😂) so imagine Bonney being very confused as to why Sanji doesn't get bitches & her trying to be his lil wingman? Their dynamic has a lot of potential for humor & tear inducing moments me think. I'm also very much a girl dad Sanji truther so anything that can quench my thirst for it is great in my book. Give it to me Oda. I'm begging you!

This is so long I'm so sorry! Thanks if you bother to read all of it 😊

Well see first of all Sanji DOES get bitches, it's just that HE'S the bitch that gets GOT and he's oblivious to it, so jot that down!

Second of all, Sanji and Bonney have a very interesting relationship at the moment. Sanji clearly wants to be a positive figure in Bonney's eyes, and wants to be the one to protect and save her - and one of the reasons is because Sanji is softer towards girls. But there's also the fact that Bonney is doing everything to find her father, and we must remember how Sanji reacted to Kinemon and Momonosuke in Punk Hazard,

Sanji's heart immediately softened at Kinemon saying he was looking for his son, and while he had an odd relationship with Momonosuke, Sanji still cared for and protected the kid. Sanji has a REAL soft spot for anyone with a father/child relationship, probably because his OWN blood father sucked, and his ACTUAL father was a man who took Sanji in despite it all.

I don't think Bonney will join the crew because I really cannot imagine Nami accepting a child on their crew for the unforeseeable future, especially in such dangerous waters, but Sanji and Bonney's parallels really break my heart.

The fact the two of them have loving mothers who gave their lives for them. They both have blood fathers they'd despise and, no doubt, have complicated feelings about their blood. They both have ACTUAL fathers who adopted them and sacrificed SO MUCH for their futures.

They seem like mirrors of each other in a lot of ways, and Bonney is also using Sanji's name specifically, so she must feel a strong safety or connection with him. Sanji is trying to help Bonney, to keep her safe, and to keep KUMA safe, because HE experienced all these turmoils and traumas as a child too. Sanji watched Zeff sacrifice so much for him, his heart would BLEED for Bonney - who is watching HER father do the exact same thing.

I'd say it's much more of a big brother/little sister relationship between them, but it's also something more than that, because Sanji is saving a kid he would truly see himself in.

[stwinsgstdrop]

Chapter 1.

Polite Stranger Smile

Characters: Ford Pines, Stan Pines, mentioned Bill Cipher

Tw: swearing (from Stan)

Ford didn’t know what he'd expected. He hadn’t spoken with his brother in a long time, hadn’t even seen him aside from his infomercials. Ford didn’t like that his face was plastered in those ridiculous things, but it did bring him comfort to see his brother's smile.

Stan's smile was something only he had, one of the few traits they didn’t share. Ford's smiles had always been a bit tight, a bit nervous, because he was never quite relaxed in his own skin; it's hard to be so when you have such a huge sense of alienation. Stan's smiles were bright enough to light up a room. It could be a wide toothy grin, with a playful tint to it, or a small subtle smirk of someone you know is proud of you. Ford had loved Stan's smiles, and used to have a mental list of their differences and meanings.

The one Stan was using right now was the Polite Stranger Smile #2, mostly used during festivities when they met relatives they were supposed to know but didn’t quite recall who they were. It was a funny smile all things considered, specially because it was usually followed by his favorite, the I Don't Know What I'm Saying, which Stan always directed at Ford as they greeted the unremembered relatives. But right now Stan wasn’t looking at someone else with the Polite Stranger Smile. It was at Ford.

Ford, who had a crossbow pointed at his twin and could not afford to get lost in memories, even though those thoughts pulled at his heart in a way that made it hard to breathe. He had to focus, focus.

"Were you followed?" He inquired, looking over his brother's shoulder but never leaving the crossbow unaimed. Stan narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, his smile straining. It was now more akin to a grimace.

"Hi, nice ta see you're alive too." Stan chuchkled, but Ford sensed no humour from it. "No. And I know 'cause that's totally a concern normal people who aren't doing anything wrong have." He said, and Ford couldn’t tell if Stan was being sarcastic or not. He couldn't do it without much concentration in good days, so trying now would be futile at best. He decided not to press the matter further, and tried to pull Stan in to check his eyes.

Only, Stan stayed firmly planted in his place, looking at him with that same grimmace, slightly furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. He was suspicious. Scared? It was hard to read him, now. Ford would not think about the implications of it, he didn’t have time nor energy to afford getting emotional over a face. Even though it's an important face.

"I'm sorry bro, I'm sure you don't have any terrible or, uh, vengeful intentions, but I'm not getting in while you have that crossbow pointed at me." He said breathily, like he was trying to say something serious with a humorous delivery. Ford frowned and slowly put down the crossbow. "Now we talkin'."

Stan followed Ford's pull, and Ford checked his eyes. Stan stared at him, not even pretending he wasn’t weirded out by the situation at this point. He rolled his eyes.

"Good to see you don't think I'm a junkie." He said with what Ford knew to be sarcasm, so he had to stop for a second. Upon further thought, yeah, he could see why Stan would think he'd thought that.

"No, no, I just had to... You could've been..." Ford looked away, trailling off. "It's complicated."

Stan seemed fine. He could handle this task, right? But what if he couldn’t understand? What if it was too much? But if he didn't explain, what if Bill got to him? He had to explain everything. Yes, yes. He could do this. Stan could do this.

"Uh, you gonna explain what's going on, here? You're acting like Mom after her tenth cup of coffee." Stan said, interrupting Ford's musings. Ford looked at him and took a deep breath.

"Listen, there isn't much time. I've made huge mistakes and I don't know who I can trust anymore." From the corner of his eye he saw his research skeleton (for anatomycal comparisons with gnomes) flash a bright yellow eye at him, and quickly turned it away. They weren't safe. What if Stan didn’t understand? What if they really were just strangers sharing a face after all these years? Ford started pacing, muttering to himself.

"Hey, uh, easy there." Stan had both his hands extended like he was trying to calm down a wild animal. Which, fair enough, Ford could concede he might look a little... rough. "Let's talk this through, okay?"

"I have something to show you. Something you won't believe." Ford said, rubbing his hands. Everything felt scratchy, like his consciousness was just barely there. Stan smiled, and this time it was his reassuring one. Ford liked this one. Their childhood was filled with this smile, reflecting how their own mom smiled at them.

"Look, I've been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I'll understand." Stan said. Ford hoped he was right, but knew he couldn’t be.

Ford led his brother towards his secret lab, and only as they stood in the elevator, did he stop to notice Stanley himself. Ford was hungy and exhausted and on the lookout for a demon who threatened to gouge his eyes from its sockets. He couldn't afford to pay attention to these details at every waking moment, but it didn’t mean he didn’t care. He just had a lot in his mind.

Stan had a tidy jacked that looked well worn, but cared for. His hair was wrapped in a ponytail, and he had a bit of beard on his chin. He looked nice. Didn’t have huge bags under his eyes like Ford, and didn’t look too thin. He wasn’t as big as when they were teenagers, but strongly built. Ford was glad. He'd always had a tiny voice at the back of his head worrying if Stanley would be able to make it alone in the big world, specially when they were teens. But by the looks of it he'd been fine.

It almost made him mad. Stanley was here, a fully functional adult with his 5 normal fingers and no demons to haunt him, after costing Ford everything. No, no, not now. He couldn't let himself go that way. He had to finish this. He turned on the lights as they walked into the lab, revealing his beloathed portal.

The room was cold, as to keep the machinery cool and avoid overheating but also because Ford constantly forgot to turn up the thermostate when they were turned off. The portal itself was of a large triangular shape with an opening at its center, where his muse were to come out of, before Ford's realization of the demon's true intentions.

Stan gaped. Ford expected something like 'there is nothing about this that I understand', maybe a joke about it being a doomsday portal, or just a questioning look. He hadn’t expected Stan to look at him like he fully understood what he'd done, the magnitude of the situation, how much danger they and the whole wolrd could be in, like he got it.

How could Stanley get it? Ford must've been imagining it, projecting wishful thinking onto his twin. He needed to explain the situation, how it came to this- and it had nothing to do with the look of abject horror his brother was pointing at him. He needed Stan to know he hadn’t meant for such danger.

"It's a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe. But it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction. That's why I shut it down and-"

"Ford," Stan said in a raspy, breathy voice lacking any of his usual humour. "What the fuck did you do?"

Ford looked into Stan's eyes and realized the look of horror was filled with an actual understanding. That couldn’t be right. How could Stanley of all people know what was going on, even begin to comprehend the scale of what he was dealing with? His brother had to be thinking of some sci-fi movie. It was impossible.

"I- I shut it down and hid my journals, which explain how to operate it." He kept going. Stanley had to understand it. Once he did everything would be okay.

Stanley stared at him.

"There's only one journal left. And you are the only person I can trust to take it." He handed Stan the journal.

Stan looked at it, and then back at Ford's face. Before he could ask, Ford kept going. They didn't have enough time for questions and pleasantries or whatever else Stan might want. Bill was always watching, always waiting for an oportunity to possess him again, and he didn’t know what the entity would do when he found out about this.

"I have something to ask of you: remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?" Stan frowned. "Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as ya can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!"

Stan stared at Ford like he'd personally insulted him. Stan breathed deep, and exhaled slowly. When he opened his eyes again, it was as if he were a different person.

"I'm not asking again, Ford." He said in a serious tone Ford had never heard from him before. "What the fuck did you do?

[bitzandbotz]

Rolfe Dewolfe Headcanons!

He is my current microwave blorbo (he is rotating around in my brain rn) and I have many thoughts about him!

This post is sfw of course!

He has a huge inferiority complex and some major ego issues. Bro is a little delulu but we love that.

I headcanon that Wolfman (lead singer of The Wolf Pack 5) is his older brother. This is where a large majority of his insecurities stem from, as his brother is far more well-liked and successful than he is.

He struggles to emulate Wolfman’s natural charm and charisma, so his attempts come off as forced and disingenuous as a result… Just ✨neurodivergent things✨

Not a headcanon but he forged prescriptions for pain medication???? Back pain allegedly, according to the Smitty’s introduction tape at least. Perhaps he’s a chronic pain king who couldn’t afford them!

I know it’s heavily implied that Earle is his own entity and whatnot, but I personally prefer the idea that Rolfe is just using his puppet to vent his frustrations with… Well, himself! It’s his own way of trying to tell people he’s self aware, but everyone seems to take his outlandish persona seriously…

Going based on that headcanon, he’d have to have some good vocal range too. His singing voice might not be the best but he’s definitely got some good impressions up his sleeve.

He’s funnier when he’s being authentic and not trying to be funny, if that makes sense. His jokes on stage are all very corny but behind the scenes I think he has his own unique sense of humor that the others often miss out on.

He loves disco. Canon technically, but it’s cute enough to mention. He was probably going to a lot of discotechs back when he was younger, since he was likely a young man during the time period in which disco would be relevant.

Age wise I feel like he’d be somewhere in his 30s-40s. Gray is a common color for wolves but he gives washed up celebrity vibes, yk?

He could wear shoes but he chooses not to wear them, it’s a sensory thing. He doesn’t like how constricting they feel, and I’d imagine it’d be hard finding shoes in his size anyway.

He’s the typa fella to go to sleep with that old ahh nightgown and the long droopy hat and comically flap his jowls when he snores.

Him and Fats bicker a lot but I think it’s mostly playful banter, they’re the kind of friends who start fake beef with each other just for fun. Fats is probably the one he’s closest to out of the band members, since they have a mutual understanding of one another and what makes each other tick.

Absolutely a terrible shopper. Do not send him to the store (even with a list), he will buy the most expensive versions of everything and a bunch of stuff you didn’t ask for (he only wants the best for you but he can’t keep paying 50$ for orange juice 😭).

In denial about his wrinkles. He’s still fresh as a daisy, or at least that’s what he tells you. His rosy cheeks are real though, no makeup needed for those.

If he gets frustrated enough he’ll do that dog thing that’s not a growl but a little bit of a low rumble.

In high school, he was the “weird puppet guy.” It was like every social interaction with him was a dry run for his future standup routines, he’d never talk to anyone without Earle also being involved in the conversation. It was a comfort thing for him, and it made interacting with others easier, but most people thought he was just weird for it. Once again I say ✨neurodivergent things✨

Avid vest and bowtie collector of course. He’s like Saul Goodman if he didn’t wear pants.

He knows how to play some weirdly specific instrument that sadly wouldn’t fit in with the rest of the bands lineup, but it’s something you’d never know until you’re like shopping for a replacement for your instrument and you see him trot over to a fucking theremin and start making some alien invasion ahh music

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

Squid Surge

Panda’s Notes:  We all know Olivia Octavius is prime ler material, but in 6 whole years, I haven't seen a thing. So here's a thing. >w< Blame @carrie-tate for this one. I love this picture.

[Ao3] || [Cookies Found: 0] || [Commissions] || [Ko-fi]

There’s something about staring into the pulsating epicenter of an interdimensional rift that changes you.

There’s something about losing your lab’s main source of funding that changes you too, but that’s neither here nor there.

The last few months were spent on research. Peter Parker had reportedly been 26 years old when he died…Spiderman had only appeared in the city about a decade ago, give or take. It had been barely a year after that first appearance when she and Spiderman became recurring enemies.

Sixteen years old. Maybe seventeen. She’d been fighting over and over—reworking and redesigning machine after machine—to fight a child. It was a bit funny, to say the least; in fact, it explained a lot. His terrible humor; his exaggerated voices for those first few years; his…unorthodox plans.

…She would miss him. In a sense, of course.

The universe is a funny thing though. Hardly a day after Peter was gone, three entirely different Spider-characters had given her a hell of a fight in the woods just outside of Alchemax. One of them being a nearly-identical—not counting the obvious difference in age—Peter Parker, and another with the ability to turn completely invisible. Now, that was something.

The one with the invisibility power; he’d first appeared in the Alchemax building alongside that second Peter, in a terrible store-bought spider suit and barely able to use his ability consistently. It was kind of adorable, like watching a kitten’s first attempts to climb. In the heat of the chase, it touched something human deep inside of her—She’d have to make a note to fix that—and she couldn’t help teasing him a bit in the moment.

The next day had been the collider’s final one. Six Spiders in total, five of which disappeared through the fluctuating rifts. She’d made the mistake of believing the smallest one—who showed up in a black-and-red suit after showing off his invisibility—was a seventh variant, but it’d only lasted a moment. The others had recognized him; they were so happy to see him. It might have felt nice to kill him, in that moment.

But she hadn’t; she honestly didn’t fully remember what happened. She awoke on a hard surface, her pneumatic arms clutching for purchase on something. Blood was running down her face and some bone somewhere was definitely broken. The whole chamber was filled with light in colors she had never imagined. The air was being pulled toward one of the portal generators; the temperature shifted wildly as everything swirled, and for just a fleeting moment, she had a glimpse into a web of something infinite and indescribable.

So, yeah. Minor Existential Quandary. No big deal. Not an issue at all.

Recovery was an interesting time spent between different casts and braces, readjusting actuators and programs. No one took much notice; lying low between the chaotic moments was something she took a sort of pride in. The news droned on in the background every time; the word on the street was a particular, brand-new black-suit Spiderman. She was curious about him; she admired his sacrifice. But days turned to weeks, turned to months. He didn’t disappear; he didn’t falter; if anything, he was improving quickly for such a small thing. He was supposed to be here, in this dimension.

That brings us back to this. She’d wracked her brain trying to remember that night. The whole week had become a bit fuzzy with the head injury, but something stuck about. Miles. Spoken like a name. She’d heard it a few times during the encounters they’d had. They were all just so talkative, weren’t they?

Hacking into databases wasn’t necessarily a strong suit of hers. Not to say that it’s hard, but it’s nowhere as easy as robotics. Miles is an interesting name to search for too, all things considered. Not common enough for her to scrap the search entirely—Like Peter, funny enough—but not so rare that the hunt was a simple handful of clicks. And she adored a good puzzle.

Now, how to narrow this down… If the precedent held true, the kid would be under 20 years old. Great. That removes…40% of the results. That’s still a few dozen in the area though, less puzzling now and more downright luck.

…Olivia doesn’t really believe much in luck. What she does believe in is probability. Such as, if someone were to, say, spread an itty-bitty little rumor through the proverbial criminal grapevine about a new secret project Doc Ock was working on; well, then the probability that such information would get to Spiderman was nearly 100%. And then, the probability that Spiderman would simply have to infiltrate Alchemax to confirm such a rumor was…

Actually, that brings us to the present. The brace on her leg kept the occasional aches from distracting her; the one on her wrist had just become a habit from weeks of routine. She stood in her personal lab, making a few final calibrations. Frankly, the timing was impeccable. The tablet beside her, showing schematics and diagnostics for the mechanism on the table, had a small grid of dots in one corner that shifted from green to red in a sort of line before only one dot stayed red. She tapped the grid, making it the focal program on the screen, and she smirked to herself as she lifted the apparatus enough for it to attach itself onto her back. It felt lighter; less metal hidden in the tubes definitely helped. The arms lifted her weight off the floor easily; that part hadn’t needed any changing.

“One last thing.” She finally spoke, pulling her glasses off while one of the arms passed her goggles into her hand. “I’ll need to test the new program; it’d be so nice to have some assistance~” She pressed the red dot on the tablet, and a loud hiss suddenly came from the ceiling behind her, quickly followed by a startled yelp. She turned with a grin, finding a flailing partial-silhouette made of fire suppressant powder. “How nice of you to drop in, Spider-Man.” She taunted playfully, lashing an arm across the room toward him.

He dodged to one side, perching himself on a table as he let himself become visible again. “I-I—How…?” He stammered out, ducking away from another arm trying to grab him.

“It’s a temperature detector, sweetie, not a person detector. In fact, I had to increase its sensitivity just for you!”

He glared at her—Don’t ask how she can tell—before lunging to one side and attempting to rush at her. She had lifted herself up and backwards to stand on the workbench, and Spider-man flinched as all four arms lashed toward him. He fired off a web, attempting to pull himself out of the way, but she managed to catch him by one ankle and drag him close enough for another arm to coil around his wrist. The claw shoved into his hand, blocking the trigger on that web shooter as he flailed nervously.

“Huh, the speed adjustments paid off too.” She grinned, tapping her chin as she watched Spiderman grab at the plastic tubing.

“This is the secret project I heard so much about?” He let out a huff, and she could feel the air tingle as sparks started to jump off of him. “Can’t say I’m impressed.”

Her smirk didn’t falter at all. “Sorry, Miles; I made a point to keep this design completely      insulated from electricity.”

He froze up completely. Oh. She actually hadn’t meant to let that slip so early. But given his reaction…

“I don’t—” He tried to speak, but the new anxiety was dripping from his voice.

“So that is your name!” Olivia laughed. “Honestly, you Spiders really should work on keeping your mouths shut during these little fights.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Octavius.” He growled, looking away and prying harder at the claw on his wrist.

She eyed him skeptically, shaking her head. “You can play tough if you want, but I do have to tell you: You were wrong earlier; my secret project is actually this little program.” She emphasized the statement by running the command, leaning casually on the workbench as she was set back on the floor. Two of the remaining arms moved suddenly, the claws squeezing gently at his sides. The reaction was instant and, frankly, hilarious.

Spiderman let out a panicked sort of noise, his free hand grabbing at one of the offending claws. “A-Aye, watch it; tell your vacuum tubes to keep their hands to themselves!”

Olivia let herself chuckle, twirling her finger casually in the air as the claw on his other side mimicked the motion. “Oh, come on now, Spiderman; you think I’ve never heard that one before?” She taunted, smirking as she watched him squirm. “Besides, it’s not like they’re doing anything; you’re fine.”

She waved her hand dismissively, pretending to turn her attention elsewhere while both claws suddenly moved faster. The gentle squeezes became very purposeful kneading from his hips to his ribcage, and Spiderman—Miles—kicked wildly as a startled laugh managed to escape. Olivia glanced back at him, crossing her arms and hoping her sarcasm didn’t show too much. “You still alright up there?”

Miles was definitely glaring at her if his tone was any hint. “You’re doing this on purpose…” He tried to growl, but it sounded a lot more like stifled giggling.

“Doing what~? I’m not doing a thing. The program is just a maintenance tool. Keeps all the joints working, like cracking your knuckles.” She tapped her chin. “Unless, of course…”

“Shut up.” He snarled, trying to scrunch himself up as both claws crawled tauntingly slow up his sides.

“…You’re ticklish.”

There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other, and electricity jumped off of Miles’ hands again.

Olivia sneered as she let the claws strike; one of them resumed the pattern of squeezing up his side while the other tickled mercilessly under the arm he was dangling by. And wow, it really shouldn’t be this easy; this was just unfair. Miles actually burst out laughing, his escape efforts redoubling in the form of much more aggressive kicks. Olivia simply kept her distance, chuckling as she pulled the tablet on her desk closer to make a few notes.

Reaction times were good; pressure calibration seemed accurate; minute motions were apparently quite realistic, if that squealing was anything to go by.

“Are you having fun?” She taunted, reaching to sneak a poke on his stomach and snickering when he nearly connected a kick through his laughter. “I think this is fun. Now…” She tapped her chin as she examined her notes…

Logic and Opportunity… In a situation where a problem is presented, these two will balance in some way. Most people, when an opportunity presents itself, will try to logic out the surrounding circumstances to decide if the opportunity is truly worth taking at the time. A computer, however, gathers all the logical information it has, determines an optimal solution, and when an opportunity to perform that solution appears—

…This is all to say that Olivia finally lashed out with her remaining actuator, the claw snatching Spiderman’s mask off of his face.

Oh…This feeling again.

Spiderman—Miles—looked shocked for a second, the momentary joy in his eyes giving way to a panic that was…primal, to say the least. Fear that everything was going to fall away. The sight of impending death, and the knowledge that you aren’t ready.

Olivia hesitated. There’s something about staring into the eyes of the kid you had made deliberate plans and attempts to kill that changes you.

Both of them were frozen; his face was hard—determined—but it didn’t disguise the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. His mind was completely blank.

What was she thinking? She realized quite suddenly that she hadn’t fixed that pesky humanity. His face softened as she thought; her expression must have changed.

What had actually changed was that her arms had lowered him closer to the floor, the grips of the claws loosening enough for—Right, they were fighting. He wrenched his hand, opening the claw on his wrist enough to pull free, and he broke into a sprint the second he hit the floor. She reflexively pulled herself out of the way, stumbling slightly as her legs hit the workbench. Olivia looked quickly around the room, only to find herself alone. His mask had fallen to the floor; he wouldn’t leave without it. She was about to adjust her goggles to shift filters, but a familiar crackling over her shoulder caught her attention. She felt a hard shove, most of the electricity absorbed by the apparatus as the arms moved to keep her from falling. Static tingled through her shoulders as she turned to face the boy standing poised on her desk. She could handle this; she just needed to focus.

[ERROR!]

The message flashed in the corner of her vision, and Miles squinted at her, apparently spotting the backwards text through her goggles. She fell suddenly to her own feet, the actuators shifting as the device on her back sparked. A dull ache shot through her spine; they weren’t responding to the neural link. Not really a great time for that, but nothing she hasn’t dealt with before.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t prepared for two of the claws to start tickling her sides, and Miles stifled a laugh at the giggling snort that escaped her. Yeah, actually, forget that poignant revelation she just had; she’s still going to kill him.

“You little brat!” She barely managed to get out, her tone nowhere near as accusatory as she’d wanted through her own growing laughter.

He stepped back slightly when she staggered forward, and he crouched on the desk, resting his chin on one hand as he watched her crumble with a slight smirk. “Y’know, you’re right; this is kind of fun.”

Now, he was the one to hesitate, not that she was able to focus fully on him or anything. She heard his web shooter fire, and the mask was snatched off of the floor. There was a faint tapping before he gave an exasperated sigh. “¿Cómo encuentras algo?” He huffed before, suddenly, the actuators went mostly still. They still spasmed occasionally, and when they attempted to retract back into the apparatus just left three of them deflating on the floor.

[EMERGENCY OVERRIDE ACTIVATED, SHUTTING DOWN]

She’d barely caught sight of the message through the slight haze in her eyes just before her goggles darkened and deactivated. She took the time to catch her breath before she pushed herself up, one of her hands moving to rub her side as the giggles faded away. Spiderman was gone, as far as she could tell—Smart kid—but her glasses had been webbed to the ceiling. Smug little brat.

Olivia fished one of her many spare pairs out of a drawer on her workbench, sighing as she pulled the tablet closer and flicked through the different programs. A thirty-character access code later, she was scrolling back through the security footage for this room. One of the angles had a crystal-clear shot of Miles’ face. The ideas that must have been running through his head to put that much fear in his eyes…

No one else had access to these records until the security backup at the end of the night. Olivia valued her privacy more often than not.

Logic and Opportunity. When a situation presents itself, a computer will logic out a solution and perform immediately when the opportunity arises.

Olivia took a deep breath, held it, and let it out. She deleted the footage.

A dot on the grid program shifted subtly from red to green, and she smiled.

There’s something about humanity that changes you.

[iwanttobeliv]

Yo soy Betty, la fea (Now and then)

Man, I’ve been meaning to write something ever since I finished watching the very first episode of Betty la fea, la historia continua but there were too many thoughts and feelings and too little coherence to make it happen, and yet, here I am trying it anyway.

Even in Brazil, a country that culturally embraces telenovelas, every now and then when I said Betty, a feia was my favorite, people would look at me funny. And it’s kind of difficult to explain or make people understand that there is just so much more behind Betty’s fringe, braces, and very peculiar laughter. Yes, Armando did yell a lot. And there were perhaps too many episodes focused on Sofia and Efrain's drama or those final ones with Inesita’s ex-husband, and when I managed to rewatch the whole thing, boy was I glad to be able to fast-forward these parts. Some of the sets, like Betty’s room were very clearly low-budget and full of strange choices that I could never quite figure out, and yet, none of this really mattered because the writing was phenomenal. The characters were engaging. The actors were brilliant. And the love story, that was just the best.

So I watched and rewatched. I managed to come across friends who were happy to talk about it and dissect all the things that made it work so well, and so subtle is the distinction that despite the many many adaptations worldwide, to me, none have ever been better than the original Betty.

When Betty was first aired in Brazil, I was about 15 and I can’t begin to explain how seeing a young woman who never belonged anywhere due to her looks resonated with me. Someone who was made fun of for being different and used a sense of humor to keep going. Someone who had hopes and dreams and felt none of them were within reach. And someone who managed to survive all the terrible things life would throw her way in pursuit of her happy ending.

And I guess this feels like something that needs to be said first.

As far as I'm concerned, what makes Betty so fundamentally brilliant is the fact that in YSBLF, when it comes to the love story, the guy falls in love with her being exactly who she is. No more or less. There are so many stories about the ugly duckling who manages to be seen after becoming a swan, and yet there it was, a story that showed that the duckling didn’t have to be anything else to be deserving of love and happiness.

Watching her we went through all ranges of emotion. I remember closing my eyes as I tried to watch her going through her first ‘transformation’ and the disaster it was. I remember feeling joy for her, for having such a good friend in Nicolas and such loving parents. I remember watching Armando as he was, having his feelings change little by little, all while she became an essential part of his life and work. And then, watching expectantly as we had to go through the awful plan he and Mario came up with and all the repercussions that would come of it. I remember thinking that JEA had to be a pretty great actor and that Armando had to be very well-written otherwise it would be impossible to feel anything but disgust for him and what he did. And then watching him fall for Betty utterly and completely. I remember sharing her fury and thirst for revenge when she found the letter. And then drinking up on every interaction between the two of them, knowing what she knew and waiting for the bomb to go off. And then to watch Armando go through hell and lose everything that meant something to him, and Betty trying to pick up the pieces of herself and survive the worst of times. And finally her triumphal return and what would soon enough lead her to a happy ending.

Last year, when we got the news of the remake and the OG was made available on streaming, I watched it once again and felt all those things all over again. But now, almost two decades later, with a very different understanding. I still loved every minute of it, but there were things I would have liked to be different.

Like many soaps, as soon as the main couple manages to patch things up it’s a quick jump to the expected happy ending, and while I fully expected Betty to get one, I couldn’t help but wonder, how a relationship could ever work after such a thing. Sure we knew Armando’s feelings were real and there, and all of that way before Betty, the ugly was made beautiful. But she didn’t. How could she truly forgive and trust someone who managed to betray her trust and make her go through hell as a result of deliberate actions? I would have liked to see more of it. It’s the one thing I don’t particularly enjoy in so many love stories and most soaps. How they are always in such a hurry to end the story as if by being together there was nothing else to be told about these characters and their relationship. Oh the potential wasted by their need of getting to the wedding and a baby on the finish line.

And then, much to my surprise, they decide that there’s more to tell. That the story didn’t have to finish there. [Yes, I’m aware of ‘Ecomoda’ just as I’m aware of the universal consent that it never managed to do justice to the characters we loved and cared for. Which is why, I think, the sequel now also made the choice of ignoring it.]

So now I’ve watched the first four episodes. And I have thoughts I would very much like to share and discuss. Things that I don’t particularly like, but understand. Things I wish had been done differently. Things I absolutely love. But this post feels already much too long. For now, I just want to say, I never expected the sequel to be perfect or to perfectly preserve what the OG managed to perform. But I’m genuinely happy we get to see Betty again. And to be able to laugh and cry with her, with all of them. 

It takes me back and it fills me with expectation for what’s yet to come.

Is it Friday yet?

[seasideoranges]

i loove seeing all your sokka posts, u just get him fr!! i feel like he is often overlooked/reduced to just a comedic side character 😔

do u have any other headcanons for baby sokka? maybe something with hakoda 👀?

YESS HAHA THANK YOU! I love this character so much, I could talk about Sokka for literal hours. For baby Sokka headcanons;

I always draw him as being kinda big and super articulate for a toddler, so I came up with the conclusion that he’s just freakishly articulate and big for a two year old, kinda grew up fast. He started walking at 8 months old, his first words were when he’s 10 months old. Hakoda and Kya are mildly concerned, Gran Gran thinks he’s possessed haha.

Total mamas boy. Absolutely dotes on her. As he got older though, he really started taking after his dad and his desire to be a strong warrior and leader. He just starts following Hakoda everywhere and tries to mimic everything he does, and as a result begins to hang out with him more.

Even if he acts annoyed, toddler Sokka loves to take Katara around the village and show her everything.

Bato and Kya team up to teach Sokka jokes and how to be funny, Hakoda’s sense of humor is terrible. They do this so Sokka can gang up with them on his dad and tease him.

Kya tells Sokka the story on how she met his father and teases Hakoda about his infamous pickup line (You want to do.. an activity together?) Sokka is completely enamored with this story though.

Said this before in a tag but Sokka was serious when he thought Katara was an ugly baby. He forever teases her about this. On Katara’s wedding day he’s just a blubbering mess and probably says something along the lines of “My little sister was an ugly baby but look at her now, grown into a beautiful young lady. :’)”

[galaxythreads]

The live action ATLA is amazing. 9.5/10. I didn't love everything about it, but there are so so so so many good parts and I'm so glad that Netflix decided to make this. I've seen a lot of weird criticism from long time fans and maybe I just haven't been in the fandom long enough, but. I absolutely think it's worth giving a watch if you go in with a semi blank slate. The Netlfix series is not trying to be an exact scene by scene remake of the show.

The thing about it that you have to remember when you go in is that they said they were going to change the tone of the show, and they did, and it works! It's not the same. It's not a comedy. It's funny, but it's not a comedy. Character motivations were changed to fit the darker theme. It's using Avatar as source material and intends to be an adaption, not a reconstruction of the series.

Katara is much more traumatized about her mom's death, which made sense! She was murdered in front of her. She's afraid to take on a maternal role because of that. She's quieter and softer because she's afraid and she's healing from her mother's murder. Katara in the series made sense, too, but I feel like someone looked at her and went! Wait. Smol child is maybe...not okay??? I have faith they will build her up as the seasons progress if they continue.

Hakoda is disappointed in Sokka barely passing his trial. Makes sense! They're at war! Sokka has to take care of the village, of course Hakoda has high expectations for him. And the thing is--Hakoda still trusted Sokka with the responsibility of the village anyway, so his disappointment in Sokka's trial didn't stop his faith in his son. And honestly, I think it's fine that Hakoda is not a perfect parent who never makes mistakes. Parents rant about their kids to their friends all the time. It's healthy because they're not doing it in front of, or to, their kid. Hakoda didn't know Sokka was listening. So. Idk. Sokka doesn't go through his misogyny is bad actually arc, and while I missed it, I thought he functioned really well in this story without it. And for the record!!!! Sokka STILL makes stupid jokes the entire season. He didn't lose his sense of humor.

Aang feeling so much guilt about leaving? Yep! I can vibe with that. I missed his innocence and playfulness, but I feel like this wasn't a bad take on the character either. He was still playful, but in the world they live in, it would make sense that he feels terrible for leaving. And everyone they encounter takes it upon them to rub it in his face so why wouldn't he feel bad or out of place?? Especially after Bumi. Everyone says he needs to face this alone, and Aang learning that he doesn't have to?? Powerful!! Is it the same arc as s1 of the show? No! It's not supposed to be!

Zuko's actor was perfectly cast. That boy IS Zuko. The scence at the end of e6 made me cry because it was so powerful with the 41st, and that felt so EARNED after episodes of watching Zuko's crew despise him to suddenly realizing the only reason they're alive is because of him and realizing it's an honor to shelter him. Zuko drawing Aang to pin him on his disaster wall was amazing. Him getting hit by some random woman for attacking Aang? Amazing. Him sitting next to Iroh during Lu Ten's funeral? So soft. The Agni Kai really rubbed people the wrong way, but I think it was interesting that they decided to have Zuko showing compassion be the root of Ozai's anger. He showed compassion to the 41st, he shows compassion to his father, and when Ozai has defeated him, he has him on the ground and could walk away, and he chooses to burn his face. It's not exactly the same as the show, but again, it's not intending to be.

Azula being here was interesting. I don't know if I loved Zhao being incapable of doing anything without her, but it works for what it is. Zhao is intended to be annoying and he was! So. 10/10. She cried when Zuko got his scar! Ozai playing the long hand of terrible abusive tactics made me want to bite him. Because Ozai doesn't care about Zuko. He uh. Made that pretty clear when he banished him and then at the end when he's explicitly told Zuko might have died at Agna Qel'a and he's like ????????? Am I supposed to care??? We've gotten rid of weakness. So??? Like he used Zuko to force Azula to become more ruthless. He used Zuko to shape her. I do hope we get more exploration of Ty Lee and Mai so they aren't Faceless Blorb Friends, but I just don't think there was really time in s1.

The parts they chose to remove and add into the story was interesting. You got to explore the story for the first time again. I definitely think both versions have merit and are deeply enjoyable, I just don't think you should go in expecting it to be exactly the same thing? I was happy to see a new take on the story, but that might be because I knew that it was going to be darker and the characters would adapt to that. I do hope we can get more of the vibe of the show's humor in season 2 if we get season 2, and Katara feels little more like her show-counter part because I missed her, but honestly, I do recommend to a friend.

Or at the very least, if you absolutely refuse to watch it, PLEASE go watch the last 1/2 of episode 6 with Zuko and the 41st because I CANNOT.

+THEY ACTUALLY PRONOUCED EVERYONE'S NAMES CORRECTLY #bareMinimumAward

[im-out-of-it]

season 1, episode 2 list of more stupid thoughts

1. I don’t see why clary doesn’t ever tell Jace to not talk to her supposed bff the way he does. I’m sorry but if you’re talking to MY friend that way, I’m calling your ass out. but she probably thinks he’s “got a sense of humor” or whatever

2. when Izzy says “it’s not good for any of us” YES IZZY! the fact that clary and Simon think the cup only involves clary lmao

3. yes Simon and clary are naive but they’re informed what happens if the cup goes into the wrong hands but clary’s only concern here is her mother

4. I wish they would empathize how VALUABLE AND IMPORTANT the mortal cup truly is. because they’re like it’s the most powerful cup but they only really state so far what it would mean for shadowhunters. like it literally affects everyone

5. I like the technology they have and it actually makes sense to me. probably makes fighting demons in a way easier and locating enemies. it’s still funny to me that CC later tried making fun of it in TDA

6. Izzy is making Simon blush 24/7 which is valid because she’s gorgeous 🥰

7. Alec seems to be the only one concerned that they have a mundane in the institute. aren’t they supposed to be protecting them and making sure they don’t know of the supernatural world? this is one of the reasons why Simon gets turned into a vampire

8. also Izzy is such a true friend. there’s no competition and she is super nice to clary. she makes sure clary feels accepted and that she is comfortable there. honestly Izzy is too nice in my opinion

9. and I would’ve been down for an Izzy + clary pairing. I can’t stand clary but with Izzy’s presence? maybe she could be better

10. “I don’t care what the clave or you wants”- clary to Alec. showing that she doesn’t care about any of their rules and how things are run, as long as she gets her way. tells Alec my name is not little girl yet you’re throwing fits when you don’t get your way.

11. I don’t think Alec gets enough credit for putting up with clary. GIVE THIS MAN A RAISE

12. literally laughable that Dot is like hElP mE mAgNuS sO wE cAn SaVe JoCeLyN. what has she or other shadowhunters done for Magnus and the warlocks? does dot even realize how much all the downworlders and especially warlocks are in danger? but it’s all Jocelyn clary Jocelyn!!! (EVERYONE IS AFFECTED BY THE CUP)

13. I don’t know if it’s me, but the way clary walks and just acts in this episode is so cringe

14. Magnus is a whole mood in this episode

15. I don’t think many really get what this means for alec to have jace chasing clary. Jace is doing all the things he’s never and would never do for alec. no wonder alec is hurt, upset, and having to clean up after his and clary’s messes

16. Luke isn’t alpha yet but I hate that he’s going to be. he’s a terrible leader and he acts as though the wolves don’t exist.

17. “It literally never stops talking” I love an annoyed Alec

18. I don’t see why Simon is there in the first place. Clary blames Izzy and Alec but why is Simon there? once again, it can be pinpointed back to clary of all the stuff that Simon practically goes through. because let’s take the mundane to some graveyard with some skeleton scratched out men because what’s the worst that can happen?????

19. Alec isn’t being that outrageous when he finds out that clary’s father is Valentine. she comes out of nowhere, makes them go on stupid missions, so why wouldn’t he be concerned?????? how are they all supposed to trust her? THEY DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER.

20. adding on- the outsiders are usually the ones with the agenda. Sebastian comes in with an agenda and he’s an outsider so it’s really not that alarming if clary was doing the same. she’s done absolutely nothing to gain Alec or the claves trust. I don’t like the clave but they do have rules for a reason. but jace can’t see that because “she’s lost everything like me” yet he has Alec and Izzy and Maryse but let’s just ignore all the people who have supported you for the past ten years

21. lastly clary blaming shadowhunters for Simon getting kidnapped is comical. he shouldn’t have been there!!!!!!! instead of taking accountability and being like I should’ve made him stay home and never introduced him to all of this- she goes on and blames Izzy and Alec. THEY ARE NOT BABYSITTERS. only been two episodes and I have a migraine because of her lmao

thanks for joining I forget the club name and criticizing shadowhunters but love show Malec meeting. let’s see what number we get for our next meeting ✨alec gif because he is THE MOOD