#i recorded these lines in like. fucking july

[whis--ker]

Lessons in UTAU bank making I've learned so far

1: Please for the love of god use Oremo with BGM to time the samples bcs what the fuck IS this

2: WHY AM I SO OUT OF TUNE IN THESE SAMPLES WHAT WAS I DOING. DON'T DO THAT

3: idk what happened to these samples but the audio is terrible why is it so. Clicky. Make them not like that

[harry-on-broadway]

Italian Sun

A/N: Felt inspired after yesterday’s pictures so here’s some unedited rambling. Enjoy!

***

It had only been a week, but you were already grappling with your new reality.

The reality of Harry being at home, at last.

Home, for now, was the Italian villa you all often decamped to when you had a few weeks off. He’d been making plans for the end of tour since the holidays and while specifics had changed, one thing had remained consistent: he wanted to spend time in Italy, relaxing and catching up with all of his family and friends he’d neglected for the past two years.

“Neglected? Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?” you teased when he first brought up the idea. “We’re literally driving home from your mother’s house.”

“You know what I mean,” he’d said, his face scrunching the way it did when he felt like his words were being misconstrued. “I’m just never around and when I am I feel like I’m so behind. Like…like I’m watching the season finale of a show I’ve never seen before. Everything’s different when I come back.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Oh?”

“It’s the little things. You cut your hair. You found a new coffee you like. You started listening to a new podcast. And I’ve missed it all.”

When he put it that way, your heart broke. He rarely complained, knowing that the life he was living was envied by many. But you felt for him, hearing how hard this was on him. “Well, start putting together a guest list. I guess we’re all going to Italy in July.”

Which is how you found yourself rooming with Harry’s closest friends and family in the week following the final show of Love on Tour, sharing meals, memories, and adventures with everyone. The extra glow coming off of Harry didn’t go unnoticed by you and you could feel happiness and contentment radiating off of him when he snuggled in close to you each night.

Today was the last day that everyone would be all together before the group started to head out, leaving you and Harry alone. He’d wanted the final day to be the best yet and had planned an itinerary filled with boating and sunbathing and, according to him, the best Italian dinner yet.

You had to give him credit. It was the best day yet. Games were played, naps were taken, and the picnic basket of cheeses, breads, and meats that Harry himself had packed was delicious. But the day also came with an added perk for you.

While almost everyone had donned swimwear for the occasion, displaying all sorts of skin, Harry took it to another level. His shirt was hanging precariously on his body, a single button keeping it from being blown away, and his swim trunks had been rolled up and pulled low on his hips (to avoid tan lines, he explained).

And the hat.

The fucking hat. A bright pink bucket cap, with the word ‘Daddy’ written across the front, that someone had thrown onstage in Australia. He’d said he picked it up as a joke, but the fact that he’d held onto it across countries and time zones, made you think otherwise. You saw how he carried himself with an extra hint of swagger when he wore it, and you hated to admit it, but something stirred inside of you when you caught a glance of him, hat and all, driving the boat with all of the ease of a seasoned pro. You prayed no one could tell how that scene affected you.

Now, with dinner on the horizon, you were trying to put those steamy thoughts out of your head and focus on what you should wear. You’d narrowed it down to two brightly colored dresses, when you felt two hands cover your eyes.

“Guess who?”

“Hmmmmm,” you pondered. “Could it be my boyfriend? You know, the guy who organized this magnificent trip after breaking records worldwide for the past couple of years?”

“He sounds like a catch.”

“He’s not that bad. He’s easy on the eyes.”

“Easy on the eyes, huh?” Harry moved his hands down to your hips and spun you around so you were facing him.

“Yeah, and he looks even better when he’s half-naked, driving a boat.”

“Mmmm.” Harry’s hands moved lower so that they were resting on the cleft of your ass. “Must have been pretty hot.”

“Oh, yeah, super sexy. I wish I could have jumped him right there. Especially in that hat.”

“Wait, what,” Harry laughed, breaking whatever character he’d been playing. “Are you serious?”

You shrugged. “What can I say, there’s something about that whole scene that really turned me on. And, sex on a boat sounds kind of fun. Shame we couldn’t try that out.” Harry swallowed, his throat bobbing as he processed what you said. “Harry?” you asked after a moment. “Are you still with me?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to think why the fuck I thought it would be a good idea to invite everyone on this trip. I could’ve been having sex on a boat.”

“It’s not a boat but we can still have some fun,” you whispered, fingers delicately trailing down the exposed skin of his chest.

“Yeah?”

You nodded and Harry darted across the room to shut the door to your suite, trying to tear his shirt off at the same time. “Slow down, baby,” you said. “We’ve got time.”

Harry took a deep breath, calming himself as he nodded and opened his arms for you. His hands skated over your body, much of your skin already exposed thanks to your swimsuit, before they landed on your jaw, tipping your head back to bring your lips to his.

You felt heat course through your body at his slightest touch and were amazed that he was still able to elicit this reaction from you. You felt your nipples stiffen through the flimsy material of your swimsuit when Harry’s already sizable erection brushed against your thigh and you couldn’t stop thinking about feeling him inside of you.

“Bed, now,” Harry panted when he broke away from the kiss, and you backed up until you could feel the mattress behind your knees.

You fell backwards, bouncing slightly when you landed, and when you raised yourself up onto your elbows to find Harry, he had already dropped to the ground, his hands nimbly shimmying your swim bottoms down your legs. The garment discarded somewhere in the room, you felt Harry’s lips on your ankle, then up your calf, then at the inside of your knee. You knew what this was building too, but that didn’t stop you from letting out a gasp of surprise when his lips finally found your center.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, voice barely above a whisper for fear of alerting the rest of your party to what you were up to. You threw your head to the side, trying to muffle the sound of your pleasure with the pillow.

Theoretically, the two of you were due downstairs for dinner in roughly a half hour, but Harry showed no urgency as he slowly licked at your core, speeding up, then slowing down right as you were about to topple over the edge. It was hard to focus on anything but the feel of him between your legs. You reached down, hand moving blindly until your hands found purchase in his hair. The sensation of his soft curls between your fingers grounded you as you bucked up against his lips, wanting even more than he was already giving you.

“Is this good?” he asked.

All you could manage was a breathless moan as his fingers slid inside, easily undoing you. You opened your eyes and tried to catch your breath as Harry appeared over top of you licking his fingers clean with a satisfying pop. “That really turns me on,” you finally wheezed out.

“What? That?”

“No, the fact that you remember what works for me. It’s just something about the way you care for me. You always act like you don’t remember anything and you have no clue what’s happening, but that’s not true H. You always remember what matters.”

You could see something burning in Harry’s eyes as you said that, not quite desire, but something close. “I’m always going to care about you,” he said, the words laced with emotion. “Nothing is ever going to change that.”

“Show me,” you said.

He rolled on top of you in one easy motion, and you opened your legs, giving him space to settle in. He kissed you, furiously, but nowhere near enough. You needed to feel him all over you, every inch. Skin on skin, nothing between you.

“What the hell are these shorts still doing on you?” you whined, fingers digging into the fabric of his tiny trunks.

“I could say the same about this,” he all but grunted, struggling to undo the tie of your bathing suit top.

Free of obstructions, you all were able to lay together and take in the moment. You weren’t surprised when Harry buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling and savoring the moment. It was something he’d made a habit of doing in recent months, after noticing that you’d changed body wash in his absence. He was upset at first, saddened by yet another detail he’d missed, but after that, he’d started to take more time to observe and remember every little thing about you.

After a few seconds, you felt his lips on your neck as he kissed his way to your mouth, and you could feel him smile into the kiss.

“Got time for one more?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“Why stop there?”

“I think you might be overestimating my abilities, love.”

You pressed a kiss of your own to the spot right under his ear that you knew got him going. “You’ve never let me down, H.”

Without warning, he was inside you. He often paused upon entering you, giving you a moment to adjust and a moment for him to center himself. But today, he did no such thing, rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm. You made no effort to stop him either, tilting your hips up and pressing your heels into the small of his back to drive him further inside. The room was nearly silent, just the sound of your bodies moving in time broken by occasional panting, or the soft moans Harry stifled against your chest.

You glanced at him as he continued to drive into you. His eyes were shut tight and his forehead was wrinkled in concentration. It was the look he often wore when he was focused on not coming undone prematurely. Always the gentleman, he made every effort to ensure you were taken care of before he handled his own needs, but the rare occasions when he fell apart first drove you wild.

There was something so attractive about watching a man who was always in control, always looking out for others, come undone, something you’d once told him, earning an eye roll. You could tell he was nearing the edge as his thrusts became more frenzied and less rhythmic, while the wrinkles in his brow deepened.

You brought your lips to the shell of his ear, nipping at the skin, before soothing the bite with a kiss. “Let go,” you whispered in his ear. “For me.” You could feel his hesitation, so you played the ace you had been holding this whole time.

“Daddy.”

His whole body shuddered as he emptied inside of you, your orgasm following close behind. He collapsed, his entire body weight resting on top of you.

“Give me a sec,” he said. “I just—fuck.”

You chuckled lightly. “That good, baby?”

Harry shook his head in disbelief, as he lifted off the bed and padded to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth. “Fucking amazing,” he muttered, as he moved to help you clean up. “Didn’t know that was uh, something you were into. You know, the daddy thing,” he added, trying to sound casual.

“Can’t say I am, but something about that hat just really got to me. Maybe something to think about in the future though?”

“For sure,” Harry said. “I mean, I’ve scheduled plenty of sex for us as part of this break.”

“So when do you leave again?” you teased.

Harry pinched your thigh lightly. “Not soon enough apparently.”

You leaned forward, grabbing him for a kiss. “It’s always too soon. But I’m happy to have you while I can.” You looked at the clock on the bedside table. “And I think all of your friends want to see you too, which means, we have to get ready. Now.”

“I’ll start the shower.”

“Harry!”

“What? It’s a time saver and a water saver.”

You rolled your eyes. “Remember, your friends will let us have it if we’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah. They’re getting a free vacation so they’ll keep quiet if they know what’s best for them.”

“Oooh, tough guy.” You grabbed your towel and headed to the bathroom, hearing Harry say something behind you. “What did you say?” you asked, turning around to find him standing there holding his hat from earlier in the day.

“I said I have to remember to send a thank you note,” he added quietly.

“To who?”

“Whoever threw that fucking hat on the stage. Never imagined it would get me laid.”

[geminiartemis]

Let's talk about Mammon's asexuality!

Okay, first of all, I know this post is waaay late to the party, and maybe someone else has already talked about this much more eloquently than I ever could, but fuck it, I just feel like talking right now. lol

So, back in July, this official image was posted.

Most people were surprised to find out that Mammon is asexual. Heck, even I was surprised, although I had seen that theory around.

But after a while – and many, many rewatches of that episode – I realized that it makes perfect sense.

(Obligatory disclaimer: I'm ace. Not all aces feel the same way about sex and allos. Mammon is a piece of shit regardless of his asexuality. Most real life aces aren't assholes like Mammon. I actually love Mammon as a character. Don't take things too seriously. It's not that deep. Calm down. Take a deep breath. Drink water. TRUST US WITH YOUR ENTERTAINMENT!)

Exhibit A

Mammon insists that making a sex robot out of the clown pageant winner is not weird. Then he points at some random guy in the audience and says HE'S weird for even thinking that.

Here's what I think. Mammon knows it's weird. Look at his face. Listen to his tone. He's super weirded out. It's only acceptable to him because it'll make them money, because he's still a greedy bastard, but he does think it's weird. Nobody said anything and he still got defensive about it and put the blame on someone else. “YOU'RE weird, you sick fuck!”

The thing is, to him, sexualizing a young clown is probably just as weird as sexualizing anything or anyone else. Because he's ace and not too worried about the ethics of it as long as it makes him money, sex is weird, sexualizing people is weird, people who like sex and sexualize others are weird, but those things are generally socially acceptable, so everyone is a sick fuck, so how is sexualizing Fizz any different? He just doesn't see the difference, nor does he care to.

Exhibit B

Like I just said, people who sexualize Fizz are, in Mammon's own words, “sick, fucking degenerate adults.” Like, the idea actually disgusts him! He is so disgusted by his customers who sexualize Fizz that he can't even keep his opinion of them to himself while recording a TV ad! Not because he has morals or any affection or sympathy for Fizz, but because sex and sexualizing people disgust him. He just doesn't get the appeal at all. (But it makes him money, so he goes along with it.)

Exhibit C

Since sex is so important to allos and IT KEEPS BEING BROUGHT UP ALL THE TIME, we aces sometimes get the impression that it's all allos think about. We assume sex is allos’ Roman Empire. Assume that allos are always DTF. What do you mean you DON'T want to be fucked, Fizzie?? *Crimson voice* That's the kinda shit you allos like, right?!

The sad thing is, that's the sentiment I saw some people in the fandom express when this scene and this line came out. So Mammon's reasoning here isn't even an exaggeration, ridiculous as it is. I don't know if those people were hypersexual allos or clueless aces, but… yeah… it's something that some people think in real life, apparently.

Anyway, the point is, I can totally see the ace vibe in Mammon now. Is making one of the most irredeemable villains ace, the kind of ace who has zero respect for allos, a wise idea in terms of ace representation? Eh, we've already had this discourse in Hazbin Hotel with regards to Alastor, and everyone has their opinion on this. I'm not getting into that. And hey, Octavia is ace, too! I don't know if that will be relevant in the show, but it'd be really cool if it were. We'll see!

[mordrer]

PRE-IMMORTAL

Old Funeral is a death metal band formed in May 1988, located in Bergen. They were only 15 when Olve and Tore started a band(Only Padden was 18). They were one of the first bands to form in the Norwegian extreme metal scene.

Old Funeral lineup(1988) from left to right:

Tore Bratseth(Guitars), Padden(Drums), Olve Eikemo(Vocals, Bass)

With this lineup they recorded their first demo in 1989 titled «The Fart That Should Not Be»

Fun Fact: Their first rehearsal place was Tore’s father basement. They rehearsed there almost every day

That demo was recorded on a 4-track fostex tape machine in their rehearsal room. Tore handwrote the cover, but it was xeroxed and released in 50 copies. It was just their friends who got them, so it is a total underground tape.

Another Fun Fact: they had only played their instruments for 10 months when it was recorded.

In July 1990 they released another demo called «Abduction of Limbs». It was the first metal recording made in Grieghallen Studio in Bergen. Pytten(Eirik Hundvin) was the producer, who was an old classmate of Tore’s father. This was the first time they had been in a professional studio, it took some days to record and mix(6-7 days were spent in the studio altogether). 600 copies were released in cassette format.

Old Funeral(1990) from left to right:

Olve Eikemo(Bass, Vocals), Padden(Drums), Tore Bratseth(Guitars, Lyrics)

Kristian Vikernes joined Old Funeral in 1990, they played few gigs, and compose songs for the «Devoured Carcass» demo before Olve would leave band in order to form Immortal. The role of vocalist fell to Padden.

Old Funeral(Also 1990) from left to right:

Kristian Vikernes(Guitars), Olve Eikemo(Bass, Vocals), Padden(Drums), Tore Bratseth(Guitars)

Also in 1991 Thorlak came as a bass-guitarist

With this new line-up they recorded a demo «Devoured Carcass». They went to Grieghallen to record again, but not to do a demo, but a 7” vinyl EP. Thorlak does not play on this EP as he became a member too late to learn the songs, even though he is pictured on the cover. Both, Tore and Padden, did the bass lines for it. On June 17th 1991 these 7 vinyls have come to light

Fun Fact: They got that deal because of Thrash Records that approached them after listening to the demo. The reaction was very good and the 1100 copies sold out in 2 weeks only!

They played about 10 gigs with Kristian, there was even one gig in Notodden with both Kristian and Olve before he quit. It was just before Thorlak joined on bass.

That’s it for Old Funeral! And before we move to «Amputation» i’d like to show you some moments from interviews with Tore!

You told me that you went to school with Olve (Abbath) since you were 8 years old. How were these days? Were you the only children who were so crazy about MOTÖRHEAD, BLACK SABBATH, THE BEATLES? Did you use to fuck things up, or were you quite quiet boys?

«He-he, these days were quite wild. Especially Olve got quite a lot of bad remarks from the teacher in his books. I actually have a tape from 1984 when we are 11 years old from a history class and we take the total piss out of the teacher. He had to go and get the principal because we were making so much noise. Also on the same tape there is a part where me and Olve and another guy is singing ‘Shoot ‘Em Down’ by Twisted Sister. Fucking brutal shit he-he. No, you can’t have the tape. Some things are meant to stay very underground. Olve along with Padden were my best friends (and still are) from childhood years.»

Was Padden also in the same school than you and Olve? You told me that he bought «Hell Awaits» and «Morbid Tales» around 1986. How did you react when hearing such a music? What pushed you to dig it more, and later to get involved into tape trading?

«Padden was at the same school as us yes, but not in the same class, because he was 2 years older than us. He was the first one of my friends to buy extreme records. I remember me and Olve looked at each other when we listened to «Hell Awaits» for the first time. It was a feeling of aggression, laughter and awe. We just laughed for minutes because we didn’t think it was possible to make such brutal music. I remember this record was listened to by maybe 6-7 people in our little village called Lysekloster. We all thought that this was the music that fitted our personalities and we started to seek more information about this kind of music. Then Padden, who was the only one with some money, bought Celtic Frost «Morbid Tales» and Possessed «Seven Churches», then came «Reign In Blood» and it was no way back.»

When exactly did you start OLD FUNERAL? Did you play covers in the beginning or just tried to come along with your own stuff? Was it also the first band for Olve and Padden?

«We started on the 17th of May 1988 rehearsing in my parents basement. This is the constitution day of Norway. Old Funeral was the first band of all of us, and nobody had played any instrument before this date»

How strong was the influence of the new members on the way to compose songs for the «Devoured Carcass» demo?

«Varg was a very good musician, so he participated a lot in the songwriting. Thorlak was more the lazy guy, but he was good to have in the band as well...»

You can read full interview with Tore here – https://www.voicesfromthedarkside.de/interview/old-funeral/

I also highly you to read other interviews with him talking about Old funeral. Click here and here to read it!

Amputation is a death metal band formed in 1987-1988, located in Bergen and created by Harald Nævdal(Demonaz). At first the band went by Sacrecy, but it was changed to Amputation. They only released two demos before disbanding.

Fun Fact: Around that time(1987-1988) Harald met Olve!

Amputation’s original recording lineup consisted:

Harald Nævdal(Demonaz) – Guitars & Vocals

Truls Kvernhusvik – Guitars

Padden – Bass

Jørn Inge Tunsberg – Drums

«Achieve in Mutilation» demo tape self-released in 1989 in cassette format. Regular xeroxed covers. Ordinary tape. Tracks 2 and 3 are listed in the wrong order on the tape cover; track 2 is labeled as "Merciless Slaughter" and track 3 is labeled as "Death Is Not the End". Logo and cover art by Harald.

Kvernhusvik exited the band prior to the recording of the second demo, leaving the remaining trio as Amputation's final lineup.

In July they released their second and last demo titled «Slaughtered in the Arms of God». It was recorded at Grieghallen recording studio in Bergen.

Last Amputation’s lineup from left to right:

Jørn Inge Tunsberg(Bass),Padden(Drums), Harald Nævdal(Guitars & Vocals)

[cleolinda]

When I was a child in the '80s, I absorbed some kind of cultural truism that disco was ridiculous, embarrassing, cheesy, a cultural relic to be mocked at every turn. Remember, I'm under ten years old at this time, and I still manage to get this impression. There was another, milder sea change when grunge overtook the hair metal of the late '80s, so I never questioned the idea that disco should be dead and buried. We like silly things, I thought in my 13-year-old wisdom, and then we get over it.

Then I saw The Last Days of Disco (1998) while I was in college, and suddenly I realized that disco was fun, and it was like—it was in the roots of—music I already loved. And the end of that movie also—hints? tells you? I can't remember how explicitly—that disco didn't just fade like most trends; it was killed off.

I watched a lot of VH1 in those days, the late '90s, with a little TV sitting on my tall university-issue dresser, its corner overlooking my computer desk while I struggled with piles of assignments. This was the heyday of Behind the Music, so it was great background TV. And then one day (1999) they ran a Donna Summer—the "Queen of Disco"—concert special. The video up there is the song that immediately became my favorite of hers. It’s just instant serotonin to me, any version of it. I bought the whole VH1 album on CD, and "This Time I Know It's For Real" may genuinely be one of my all-time favorite songs, now, still, more than 20 years later. You can hear the original version (1989) here (the backing instrumental that I just found today is lovely), but the live version ten years later, the video up there, has a really special comeback—joyous, gracious survival—energy to it.

Watching the whole concert, I got it. Why the fuck did I ever think disco wasn't amazing? It was always the kind of thing I loved; we had all just been pretending that it was embarrassing glitter trash.

And then I found out why we were pretending. From densely-footnoted Wikipedia:

Disco Demolition Night was a Major League Baseball (MLB) promotion on Thursday, July 12, 1979, at Comiskey Park in Chicago, Illinois, that ended in a riot. At the climax of the event, a crate filled with disco records was blown up on the field between games of the twi-night doubleheader between the Chicago White Sox and the Detroit Tigers. Many had come to see the explosion rather than the games and rushed onto the field after the detonation. The playing field was so damaged by the explosion and by the rioters that the White Sox were required to forfeit the second game to the Tigers. [...] The popularity of disco declined significantly in late 1979 and 1980. Many disco artists carried on, but record companies began labeling their recordings as dance music. [...] Rolling Stone critic Dave Marsh described Disco Demolition Night as "your most paranoid fantasy about where the ethnic cleansing of the rock radio could ultimately lead". Marsh was one who, at the time, deemed the event an expression of bigotry, writing in a year-end 1979 feature that "white males, eighteen to thirty-four are the most likely to see disco as the product of homosexuals, blacks, and Latins, and therefore they're the most likely to respond to appeals to wipe out such threats to their security. It goes almost without saying that such appeals are racist and sexist, but broadcasting has never been an especially civil-libertarian medium." Nile Rodgers, producer and guitarist for the disco-era band Chic,

(who survived the disco era to make half the music I loved in the '80s)

likened the event to Nazi book burning. Gloria Gaynor, who had a huge disco hit with "I Will Survive," stated, "I've always believed it was an economic decision—an idea created by someone whose economic bottom line was being adversely affected by the popularity of disco music. So they got a mob mentality going."

The DJ who ran the whole thing, Steve Dahl, complains that it was VH1 itself—you know, those Behind the Music specials I was watching—circa 1996 that labeled the whole debacle as bigotry when it so totally was not, you guys, and he is so tired of defending himself. But I'm gonna tell you, Steve, I don't really care. Maybe Disco Demolition Night was your fault; maybe you were just a part of something so much bigger and uglier that you couldn't see the whole size of it. Can you draw a direct line from the weird bigoted vitriol directed at those dance records to Ronald Reagan, elected the very next year, not giving a single fuck about the AIDS crisis? You probably don't want to, but I will.

And I don't care because I can look around the U.S. right now and tell you, nearly 45 years later, people are trying to demolish a lot more than disco. The Club Q shooter was sentenced to life in prison just a few hours ago. It's Pride Month, and we're all sitting here holding our breaths. That's a terrible way to end a post about a beautiful happy song I love, I guess, unless you turn it around and say, that should have been the whole point of this post in the first place. Listen to this song and think, people wanted to destroy this music, this sound, this joy for some reason. They want to stop people from just living their lives, from dancing. And yet, disco is still here. It was there in 1979, and it was there when Donna Summer released this song in 1989, and it was there when she returned in 1999. The Queen of Disco passed away in 2012, and it's still here. I feel a lot of joy when I listen to this song, but I don't think I'd ever thought about it being the joy of grooving with something just because it’s beautiful, the joy of just being here, still.

[thefirsthogokage]

SAG-AFTRA and WGA on the Line!

[Image ID: A tweet from J.W. Hendricks (@JW_hendricks) from July 14th that reads:

Let's fucking go. #SAGstrike #WGAStrong

Under that is a black and white image of a person in a hat, sunglasses, and a Writers Guild of America shirt holding a sign that says "Now We Have SAG HO HO HO"

/End ID]

[Image ID: A tweet from Brig Muñoz-Liebowitz (@brigliebs) from July 14th that reads:

Seriously excited to see our picket line chants performed by talented professionals who know how to project from the diaphragm. #wgastrong #SAGAFTRAstrong /End ID]

[Image ID: A tweet from Dan Hernandez (@/cubanmissileDH) from July 13th, 2023 that reads:

People think writers and actors are soft. And we ARE attention-seeking validation magnets. But pursuing a career in the arts is also brave, foolhardy, and kinda batshit. We have all withstood incredible pain to get here, and we can take much more. #SAGAFTRA #WGA #Solidarity

/End ID]

[Image ID: A tweet from form L&O SVU writer Robert Brooks Cohen (@RobertBCohen) that reads:

The much-anticipated WGA/SAG-AFTRA crossover has begun. ✊✊ #WGAStrong #SAGAFTRAstrong #DUNDUN

With a picture of him holding a sign that says in full:

In the studio entertainment system, viewers are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the Writers Guild of America, who create entire worlds, and the Screen Actors Guild who bring them to life. These are their stories. DUN DUN. /End ID]

Granted, there's also everyone in production, the set designers, the costume designers, the hair and make up people, lighting, sound engineers, etc. But I get his point. Anywho, the image of him in full:

I'll try to ID this one:

(link to first post)

[Image ID: Three tweets from three different WGA members from July 14th, 2023 that read:

Travis Helwig (@travishelwig):

Actors are tall

Mike Royce (@/mikeroyce):

a guy whipped his shirt off at like 9:01 this morning, we're in a different reality now

Jackie (Decembly) Penn (a strike captain) (@JackiePenn18):

We had like 5 actors do that this morning. We were not ready for it 😂.

[Image ID: Tweet from Justine Bateman (@justinebatemanl from July 14th, 2023 that reads:

This is what you get when you give over 100k actors a call time.

@sagaftra @WGAEast @WGAWest #ShowingUp

With a picture of many, many people striking.

/end ID]

[Image ID: a tweet from Will Landman (@WillTheLandMan) from July 14th, 2023 that reads:

Week 11, Day 74. The troops have arrived & gotdam did they arrive! Lovely to see so many familiar faces, all United fighting for a fair deal. The energy was off the roof at WB. I can imagine it was the same at every lot. We will win. #SAGAFTRAstrike #WGAStrike #DoTheWriteThing

After that are four pictures for their day striking.

Also, I just want to say for historical record: today was WGA Strike Captains Day, though idk if that was just at the WB lot or not.

[Image ID: a tweet from actor Christopher Gorham (@ChrisGorham) from July 14th, 2023 that reads:

Day 1. Again. I was there for the beginning of the @wgawest strike so you know we were going to be there for @sagaftra . Enough people at Disney today to wrap around the entire studio’s 1 mile perimeter. Here’s to the unrealistic militant minority! #sagaftrastrong #wgastrong

The post contains four photos from his time striking. /end ID]

Bonus: WGA West showing up for Teamsters on the Amazon Picket line:

[Image ID: a tweet from Liz Alper (@LizApls) on July 14th that reads:

When @Teamsters call, @WGAWest responds.

We joined Teamsters on their picket line at the @/amazon warehouse in Santa Clarita. Amazon drivers deserve fair compensation and safe work conditions (and AC). We'll see you next time, Teamsters. Don't order from Amazon.

Four pictures are included in the tweet from the day showing multiple people holding WGAW signs. /End ID]

Honestly, all this solidarity during all the strikes this summer is bringing a tear to my eye. I love seeing everyone standing up for each other and fighting together. Union Solidarity.is.stronger.than ever, and it's beautiful to see.

[thebirdandthebee]

Mighty Fine (18+)

Just a little slump-buster ft. our favorite aviator. Taking requests for TGM and The Bear in my inbox. Smut ahead. Painfully pining Rooster. 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.

Title: Mighty Fine Caroline, see, Caroline - all the guys would say she's mighty fine WC: 3716

The Hard Deck was not in a poor financial state – in fact, since Penny took it over five years ago, she’d done better business than the establishment had ever logged.

Sure, some positive changes, listening to customer feedback and stocking just the right kind of beer helped. But Penny knew that for the past year, there was specifically one woman who helped bump sales big time.

And tonight, a Friday night ahead of the fourth of July, Penny knew they’d hit record numbers.

The leggy brunette flitted about the full bar – packed asses to elbows – with a smile that held a secret and lashes longer than a summer afternoon.

Caroline was all perfume and warm skin. A promise of what could be behind a beauty mark and cherry gloss.

Tonight she’d tucked her white tank into a pair of cutoff shorts and knotted an American flat bandanna around her neck, the tip of the triangle teasing her cleavage. The low-slung cowgirl boots did nothing to interrupt the long lines of her legs and she trusted them with each pivot she needed to make through the crowd.

When her attention landed on you, it felt like you were the only person in the room. She knew how to work a crowd. A small gallery assembled to watch her re-stock the tray of cherries – one of her favorite snacks throughout the night.

“Caro, sweetheart,” Penny called, topping of a lager pour.

“Penny, my love,” Caroline countered, popping the tabs on three ciders.

“Can you let me these men live for one night?” Her boss teased, nipping at the fabric around her employee’s neck.

“I can’t show my love for America the beautiful?” Caroline replied with a wink. Penny laughed with a shake of her head.

Caroline had started at the Hard Deck last summer, asking for a few weekend shifts – the ones no one else wanted to take in order to enjoy their own weekends – since her classes for UCSD ran from Tuesday through Thursday.

“Rent’s due this week, Pen!” Caroline called as she ducked under the counter, greeting her adoring audience as she head to the stockroom to grab a crate of Sam Adams.

Rooster entered the bar that night with his hopes high and his buddies trailing close behind.

He’d had his sights set on Caroline for months. A squeezed shoulder here, a bat at his biceps there and he was hooked. Sometimes he felt like a cartoon, floating behind her like a cherry pie on its way to cool in the open window.

“Oh Rooster, you’re so fucked,” Fanboy commented, catching sight of the brunette wonder first. She was pouring a line of shots across the bar top, handing them out to a group of sailors who wished she was their treat instead. Taking a clear glass for herself, they all clanked their shots before tossing them back.

Penny didn’t mind if Caroline drank on the job – she was a grown woman who knew her limits who could always use working as an excuse to get out of it.

“Here’s trouble,” Caroline announced, “G&T, Fanboy?” She asked as they saddled up to the bar – their first stop before heading back to the darts.

“Please,” Fanboy grinned, basking in the glow of her attention.

“A rum and Coke for Coyote, Hefeweizen for Phoenix and porter for my Rooster,” she listed off, gathering glasses and stationing herself over the beer taps. “That sound right?” She asked with a tilt of her head, locking eyes with Bradley.

“Perfect as always,” he replied, his honey brown eyes melting into hearts.

“Ladies first,” Caroline simpered, handing Phoenix her beer, “then, we go in order of beauty,” she added. “Fanboy,” she passed over the gin and tonic, “Coyote,” she listed next, giving his rum and Coke a swish, “and, last, but certainly not least, Rooster,” she pulled the tap of the porter, leaving just the perfect thin band of foam at the top.

“You trying to break my heart?” Bradley asked, leaning over the bar, willing her to lean in closer.

“I gotta keep you humble, Rooster,” she replied, pushing his glass toward him, “because I know they don’t call you that due to the size of your ego,” she said, turning on a heel to attend to the other side of the bar while Jimmy grabbed the trash to bring out back. Though she tossed a wink over her shoulder that made his upper lip tremble beneath his mustache.

“When you going to let me buy you a drink?” He called out, voice nearly blending in with the buzz of the bar. She shook her head with a laugh, focusing on the task at hand, but they both knew she heard him.

Rooster joined his friends back at the darts. The Fourth of July weekend was guaranteed chaos at the ‘Deck – not too unlike Homecoming weekend at UVA. Bradley loved the liveliness of it all. However, it meant that Caroline’s attention was pulled every which way except his.

“I just think if I could get her alone for 10 minutes…” he said, eyeing her hopefully as she moved about the establishment.

“Rooster, give it up, she’s way out of your league and half the bar in here is hoping she’ll go home with them tonight,” Coyote said honestly.

“You’ve been drooling over her for months,” Fanboy agreed, “it’s getting pretty pathetic.”

But Rooster was more confident than ever. He knew they’d be great together – he just had to show her.

A little time passed, they took up a game of darts and after not too long, Caroline found herself making a sweep for empty glasses.

“Another, Phee?” She asked Phoenix, who nodded with a smile.

“We’ll do another round,” Coyote supplied. Caroline stacked up empty glasses, swinging around the space, aware of Rooster’s eyes on her as he leaned against the side rail that ran the length of the back wall.

“Grab your glass?” She asked, matching his posture against the drink rail, her open hand effortlessly clasping a tower of glass. Rooster pushed his empty toward her, a little downturned twitch of his mustache giving him away. “Why so glum, Rooster? It’s the Fourth of July,” she said, a little pout on her lips that made his stomach flip. “Have to imagine it doesn’t get better than that, huh?”

“What’s it going to take for you to have a drink with me?” He asked. “You know I’m eyein’ you up every time I come in here,” he elaborated.

“Maybe,” Caroline began, “I don’t want to have a drink with you at my place of work?” She suggested lightly. “But if you invited me to Buzzards, your odds would be a lot better,” she shrugged. “Thanks for the glass, Rooster, you can pick up a fresh one in 10.”

Caroline flitted away, making her journey back to the main bar with two tall stacks in her hands, gracefully hip-checking the counter to step inside.

“Maybe you do have a shot after all?” Phoenix asked, raising her brows as she turned back to the game of darts at hand. Bradley’s eyes tracked her as she moved about, pouring beers and mixing cocktails, his eyes zeroing in as she popped a maraschino cherry into her mouth before doing the same to a young, blonde sailor on the other side of the bar.

He wiped the back of his mouth off, crossing the room and heading over to the piano, his first initial plucks of the keys enough to clue a patron in to pull the plug on the juke box.

He cleared his throat as the intro grew stronger and louder, some already recognizing the tune.

“Where it began, I can’t begin to knowing,” he crooned. “But I know it’s growing strong.”

A few cheers rang out.

“Was in the spring, and spring became the summer, who’d have believed you’d come along?”

Caroline’s attention pulled over to the far wall, it now impossible to ignore with half of the bar singing Neil Diamond.

Hands, touching hands Reaching out, touching me, touching you

“Sweet Caroline!” Rooster belted, “good times never seemed so good!”

The crowd sang back, fists being pumped in the air.

So good! So good! So good!

“I’ve been inclined to believe they never would,” he focused his attention back down on his hands, but he could feel the brunette’s stare on the back of his neck.

Caroline shook her head, topping off another drink before grabbing a tall one and making her way through the crowd, which was packed near the piano as he carried on.

One, touching one

“Reaching out, touching me, touching you,” Rooster remained as focused as he could when he felt a paper-light touch travel across his the span of his shoulders, followed by a full beer being set on the top of the piano.

“Okay,” Caroline grinned, “you’ve got my attention,” she said, her arm resting across the top of his back. “So what are you going to do with it now that you have it?”

“The Deck is open until 11 – Buzzards is open till one, meet me there when you’re done?” He asked.

“I’ll be there,” she agreed, running her hand up his spine to squeeze the back of his neck. Rooster could barely keep playing as he nearly twisted his head all the way around to watch her walk away.

Buzzards Bar was different than the Hard Deck – younger, louder, and for Rooster, much less likely to run into his superiors. Sure, lots of sailors and aviators ended up there, but it wasn’t a dedicated bar like their usual haunt. Without the uncertainty hanging over his head, he really loosened up and had fun with his buddies at the Hard Deck, but they didn’t join him a Buzzards, opting to go find some fireworks instead.

It was 11:45 and Caroline hadn’t shown up yet, at least that he could see. He grabbed a round of drinks, another beer for him and a dirty Shirley for Caroline. If nothing else, he knew she loved cherries and this could be a pretty safe assumption.

Keeping a barstool warm near the back, Rooster’s gaze scanned the growing crowd on the dance floor. He could feel the air shift as Caroline approached the table, dressed in her same little outfit, bandanna around her neck like a little pack of goodies he’d like to unwrap. However, an unfamiliar man, who was standing just a bit closer to her than either of them liked, was closely trailing her. He was obviously trying to carry on a conversation with her over the loud bass of the music and she couldn’t be less interested.

Without effort or hiccup, Caroline waltzed right up to Rooster, standing between his legs that were angled outward on either side of his body, his feet on the bar of the stool. She leaned up against him, her elbows on resting on his thighs with her back to his front. Rooster’s arm immediately looped around her body, resting just below her neck, spanning across her chest.

The man immediately got the message and backed off, but she remained snug in his embrace when he walked away.

Caroline tipped her head back to look up at Rooster.

She knew she had a reputation as a flirt. It was silly to be a bartender and not take advantage just a little bit of what God gave her. But she loved Rooster’s attention. He was safe, simple and straightforward. He didn’t play games and treated her with respect.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she smiled, sending the breath rushing from his lungs.

“Happy Fourth,” Rooster said, using his free hand to offer her the cocktail.

“Mm, cherry – how’d you know?” She asked, taking a sip through the small black straw.

“Watchin’,”he replied, missing her warmth already as she put a little space between them, standing with her back to the dance floor.

“You watchin’ me?” She asked innocently enough, elbows on the high-top table. It took everything in him to keep his eyes on her face and not her cleavage that was winning the fight against her little white tank top.

“Hard to look away,” he said, taking a drink of his beer. “Though I think this is the most time you’ve ever spent looking back at me,” he added.

“Then you’re not as observant as you think, aviator,” Caroline said, setting her drink down reaching for his hand, pulling him off the chair and leading him into the throng of bodies. “Because I look at you plenty.”

Rooster was so surprised and exhilarated he wasn’t sure where to put his hands right away as she leaned back into him, moving her body to the beat of the song.

Cause great scenes might be great But I love your bloopers

“Rooster, relax,” Caroline purred as he ducked his head down to be closer to hers – his height difference over her apparent. She reached back, taking his hands in her and placing them on her body – one on her ribs and the other just inside of her hips. “You got me right where you wanted me.”

And perfect's for the urgent Baby I want forever

Caroline’s hands drifted up to cradle the back of his head, her back arching in the slightest. And while Bradley Bradshaw was a man of morals, they were mostly forgotten as he lowered his mouth to Caroline’s neck.

Caroline, don't you see that I want you to be mine?

“You request this one?” Rooster asked, his mustache ticking her in a skin, which immediately went to her nipples, hardening them beneath her tank.

“Just lucky I guess,” she breathed, rolling her head to the side to give him a little more access to her skin.

“I think luck follows you around,” he said.

“It must if you’re here with me,” she replied. Rooster didn’t even justify her comments with an answer. If she thought she was lucky because he was there with her, she wouldn’t begin to comprehend the amount of times he’d dreamt of this moment.

“Rooster?” She asked, threading her fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug as a test. The groan in her ear told her all she needed to know.

“Caroline,” he huffed out an exhale.

“I don’t want the rest of that drink,” she said, looking up to lock eyes with him. “I want you to put me in that big blue truck of yours and take me home.” Rooster felt his heart skip hard enough that it shot him with adrenaline.

“Honey, lead the way,” he replied, sober as a judge.

She’d seen the blue Bronco pull up to the Hard Deck a hundred times – it was as much a calling card of Rooster’s as his mustache or Hawaiian shirts. Now, she was thrilled to be inspecting the inside, her back to Rooster’s side with his arm draped over her shoulder again as she made the most of the bench seating.

Leading Caroline by the hand from the car to the house, she gladly stepped into his bachelor pad.

Rooster was just grateful that Bob was out of town for the weekend.

“Roommate?” She asked, walking along the picture rail in the family room – something Bob put up. It was mostly his stuff, anyway.

“You know Bob?” Bradley asked, tracking her movement as he stepped out of his shoes.

“Bob the sweetheart is your roommate?” She asked, looking over her shoulder, eyes dilating in the slightest as she took in the view. Rooster with his big shoulders, broad chest and handsome face – honey brown eyes focusing entirely in on her.

“Bob the sweetheart?” He asked, a small quirk to his lips.

“Bob the sweetheart, Bob the puppy dog…” she trailed off. “Pen and I have many nicknames for perfect Bob.”

“I think I’ve heard enough about perfect Bob,” Rooster said, advancing her like a predator stalking its prey.

“Want me to tell you what we call you behind your back?” She asked, a glint in her eye as he scooped her up with one arm, holding her tightly to his body as he carried her back to his bedroom.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“We – well, more like just me, because Penny babies you,” she screamed as Rooster gave her ass a hard squeeze. “But I,” she leaned in close, whispering into his ear, “I call you Oh My God Rooster,” she giggled, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue. “Want to know why?” She asked.

“Tell me,” he said, kicking in his bedroom door.

“Because I always knew one day you’d make me say,” she fisted his shirt in her hands and tossed her head back, “Oh my God, Rooster!” She moaned, quickly gasping as he dropped her on his unmade bed.

“That shit isn’t fair,” he pointed an accusatory finger down at her before reaching for the fly on his shorts.

“Why not?” Caroline asked with a tilt of her head as she leaned back on her elbows.

“Because ever since you started at the Hard Deck, you haven’t given me the time of day,” he crawled over her on the bed, sealing his mouth over hers.

“I was avoiding you, I’ll admit,” she smirked, hips lifting as he began to pull her shorts off. “I knew as soon as this happened,” she paused, lifting his chin up to kiss her once more, “there’d be no going back.”

“You didn’t want to be my friend?” He asked, running his nose down her jawline as he reached behind her, pulling off her tank.

“Oh Rooster, we’re going to be much more than friends,” she purred, unhooking her bra. She reached for her little bandanna, but he stopped her.

“Leave it on, cowgirl,” he said, licking his lips. Stunned, he found himself down on the mattress, Caroline swinging a leg over his body to land gracefully on his hips. She pulled her bra down her arms and tossed it somewhere into the darkness – Bradley’s bedroom illuminated by the bright light of the moon through his window. He thought his tongue might roll out of his mouth like a yoyo.

“Does that make you my bucking bronco?” She giggled, reaching behind her to give his erection a quick, firm pump.

“Jesus,” he hissed, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Just Caroline,” she grinned maliciously.

“Why don’t you get up here and let me find out how sweet you are, Caroline,” he cajoled, tipping his chin up. The brunette threaded her fingers through his hair as she settled over his mouth, a long, low moan drawn from her lips as he licked a broad, flat swipe up the seam of her sex. Rooster’s hands slid around her sides and up to her lower back holding her body tight against his face.

“You’re never allowed to shave that mustache,” Caroline panted, followed by a high-pitched whine as she felt his whiskers against her clit. “Right there,” she mewled.

Rooster was a generous lover and apparently had a voracious appetite.

“Jesus Christ, Rooster,” she shivered as one of his thick fingers teased her entrance, circling her slowly as his lips cradled her clit. She could feel each and every one of his taste buds against her. “Roo, please,” she panted, “I want your cock.”

Bradley lifted her, a squeal on her lips as she landed back down on his abs. She couldn’t help but smile broadly at his wet mouth.

“If you smile at me like that again, I’m going to fucking marry you, Caroline,” he threatened, absolutely captivated by her.

She untied the bandanna from her neck, reaching down to cover his eyes and tie it loosely behind his head.

“Then don’t look, because I think I’m going to enjoy this a lot,” she said, smiling just the same as she lined up his cock and slowly sank down on it.

“You’re amazing,” Rooster crowed, “God you feel so good,” he said, hands resting on her soft thighs.

“You’re big,” she huffed, “like shit, Rooster, how do you have such good posture?” She asked, making him bark out a laugh. She settled herself all the way down and squeezed him on an upswing, making his abs flex as he tried to keep from busting immediately.

Leaning down, while still riding him smoothly, she pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek, tracing the line there with her tongue. He jumped as she dragged her teeth against his jawline, biting him gently while rolling his balls in her palm.

“Caroline,” he sounded worried, “I-fwa,” he lost his words as she did it again.

“Want me to stop?” She asked innocently enough.

“Don’t you dare,” he grunted while she tweaked his nipple.

“I can see it now,” she giggled, the action sending a ripple of pleasure down his spine. “C-a-r-o-l-i-n-e,” she twirled a finger across his pec.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he promised, a sweat breaking out across his brow.  He could feel her fingernails just grazing his happy trail as Caroline circled her clit, wanting to meet him at his level.

“Rooster?” She asked, and he could hear the breathlessness in her voice.

“Caroline?” He countered, his face screwed up in conversation.

“Cum,” she commanded, finding her own euphoria, setting him off just moments later, thrusting up into her as he rode out his orgasm. Caroline grinned, pushing off his blindfold to reveal his beautiful face again. “Hi gorgeous,” she greeted, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

“What did I tell you about that smile?” He groaned, palming her ass in his hands.

“I know the consequences of my actions,” she sighed dreamily. Climbing off of Rooster, she wandered her way into the bathroom, cleaning up and grabbing the T-shirt that was slung over the bathroom door before pulling it on.

Rooster was sure he was delirious as she joined him back in the bed, hiking a leg over his hip and throwing his comforter over both of them.

“Rooster?” She asked, sparing a glance over at his alarm clock, which was flashing nearly two in the morning.

“Caro-line,” he sang back.

“I want my eggs scrambled in the morning,” she said, eyes closing gently as she curled up on his chest.

“Yeah? And what would you like to eat?” 

[mybrokenveins3000]

He Likes Weddings - reader x Ross Macdonald oneshot

A/N: Here's some ridiculously sweet fluff for the broken Tumblr user's soul.

word count: 1.8k

♫ Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Richer

You're outside of the wedding venue standing on a bench. Your phone speaker is at full volume, and you're barely coping with the bad signal and the heat of the countryside.

"What do you mean you're not coming?" you sigh into the mic.

As a stream of apologies pours down the line, you spot a tall figure out of the corner of your eye.

He's dressed in a dark navy suit with his long dark hair tied up. He's doing a bad job of pretending he's not eavesdropping, eyeing you behind cigarette smoke. Despite his tough exterior and obvious nosiness, you figure it's difficult to be intimidated by a man with small, white flowers poking out of his jacket pocket.

"I don't care if something came up at work, this is the wedding of YOUR friends-- I DON'T KNOW ANYONE HERE!!"

You feel like those little, rich girls in Christmas movies who just want their dads to come home. But in this case, it's mid-July, home is the middle of nowhere, and dad is your disappointing, workaholic best friend.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go home if you won't--"

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

She hung up. Great.

As you lower your phone, you turn to face the audience of your little altercation, smoke escaping him as he laughs. It strikes you at that very moment how ridiculous you look, sweaty and flushed in your silk summer dress, standing on a memorial bench before a wedding.

He disposes of his cigarette as he approaches you. You get a clearer look at him and the situation - his pristine three-piece suit despite the weather, the pocket flowers, and what you assume to be a celebratory smoke before tying the knot. Fuck.

"Won't you stay?" he asks playfully offended, squinting as you foreground the blinding sun. He lends you a gentlemanly hand to help you off of the bench.

"NO! No, I am staying-- for sure!" you assure this man whom you've never met before in your life, hobbling off of the bench. "I mean, of course I'd stay for your wedding!"

"Sorry?"

"Congratulations! You must be so excited! Great weather too," you gulp.

His eyes widen in realisation, he cracks a slight smirk.

"Oh, darling, I'm not the groom"

You cock your head in confusion, eyes raking up and down his person, particularly the flower-pocket region.

"I'm not a groomsman either... I just really like weddings."

Now you're even more confused, but also pleasantly surprised.

"Well, in that case, I'll be going," you finally say, scooping your purse up from the bench, ready to walk back the way you came.

"You should stay," he exclaims after you.

"I don't know any of these people"

"You know me."

Oh.

He revels in the silence of your surprise. His eyes are like a child's, so persuasive and mischievous.

"And you are?"

"Ross," he extends his hand to shake yours, the same hand that helped you just a second ago, "I don't have a plus-one either."

Suddenly, the idea of this bearded, long-haired adult man getting ready for a wedding on his own flashes in your mind. Him excitedly putting on his suit and fixing his tiny pocket of flowers in the mirror. What a peculiar man. But you can't help smiling to yourself at the thought.

You hear the orchestra start up and people making their way to their seats from inside. You see bridesmaids and groomsmen assembling a few paces away.

He offers you an arm to loop yours into. Whilst you've rolled your eyes a record amount of times in your first few minutes of knowing this man, you accept his arm and walk into the venue.

---

You settled down next to him in one of the rows nearer to the back. Inside, it's beyond elaborate with flowers draped over every surface area conceivable to the human eye.

You glance over at him and he is so pure, so happy to be there. He is practically overflowing with excitement. The plan to go back home had escaped from your memory completely.

"You see that lady," he whispers to you, pointing at an older woman in a ridiculous bright yellow dress and hat combo, "that's the groom's overbearing aunt. All these flowers were her idea."

You give him a surprised, amused look, smiling at his knowledge. He winks at you.

"Ooh, and this one," he points to a man slumped over in the pews, definitely hungover, "that's the bride's ex."

"No way?!"

"Yes way!"

As more and more people file in, you gasp "oohs" and "ahhs" as you point at interesting characters and, like a human encyclopedia, Ross dishes back everything there is to know about them. This activity proves itself incredibly entertaining until the ceremony begins for good.

You absentmindedly brush dust off his suit jacket, straightening his tie and flowers whilst you're at it. If people were watching, you reckon they'd think you two were really together. You didn't mind that at all.

As the double doors open to reveal the bride, you see Ross' heart physically skip a beat. He's glassy-eyed, holding his chest where his heart is. He's more animated than the damn groom, you thought.

You find it endearing how he can look like the pinnacle of masculinity and yet fold so easily at dramatic displays of affection. Nothing could possibly ruin this moment for him, not the snoring from the hungover ex, not even the Nokia ringtone interrupting the officiator.

There were multiple instances during the ceremony where you thought he would crack. The flower girls and the father giving the bride away were moments met with a tear or two, much to your amusement. The vows were another honourable mention, of course. But it was the "I dos" and that final kiss that got him. How cliché, you laugh to yourself. And he's LOST it, hand over his mouth to stifle his lovesick cries. Your own hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter.

As the crowd cheers and hollers, him particularly louder than everyone else, you whip out a packet of tissues from your purse. He accepts them appreciatively, first blotting his face gently, then submitting to fully sobbing into the tissues.

You know you should be watching the happy couple, but all you can do is look at him.

Even though you just met, you are so certain you've never met anyone like him in your whole life. I'd never stay at a stranger's wedding for anyone else.

---

Having calmed this man down after the ceremony, you've been spending the whole reception by his side. The fact you've stuck right by this random man for so long feels like it should alarm you, but it doesn't. He seems to shine mingling with other guests with a glass of champagne in hand and eyes shining under the fairy lights, it's an image that you want to be familiar to you.

There's an instance where he finally introduces you to the newly married couple.

After a string of rehearsed "thank yous" from the couple, Ross beams "This is my date!", tipsy on his third or fourth drink, "We met this morning!"

"Ah, you must be the ACTUAL groom," you exclaim, shaking the groom's hand enthusiastically, much to his confusion, "HAPPY WEDDING!"

---

It's the couple's first dance, you and Ross are sitting next to each other, having moved his name tag to where your friend was supposed to sit. Couldn't think of a better replacement, no offence.

As the couple sway to a slow love song, you are surprised as, for once, his eyes aren't on the festivities but on you.

"Ross Macdonald, you're staring," you say as if you've known him for years, surpassing formalities and entering familiar territory.

You see him smile into his hand, eyes not moving. For a guy you've met only a few hours ago, you sure feel comfortable around him.

And, god, are you having fun.

Through slightly drunk vision, there's a vision, a daydream, of you and him dancing - you in white, him in the same, elaborate suit, same pocket of flowers, same enthusiasm. Rationally speaking, the thought is way too rash and inapt, but nice to think about under the warmth of his fingers playing with your dress.

"This is a very nice material," he mumbles. You lost count of the amount of drinks he's had.

"Am I going to be looking after you the entire night?"

"Consider yourself lucky," he smirks.

And you did. Consider yourself lucky, that is.

He plucks a flower out of the tiny bunch in his pocket and slides one behind your ear. His hand lingered against your face for a second longer.

"Beautiful"

---

It was an orchestra in the morning, jazz band in the evening sort of event. His suit jacket lay over your purse on your chair, empty glasses were strewn across your side of the table, and you're both destroying the dance floor. And you're laughing and shining with this stranger. There are not enough unafraid, unabashedly joyful men in the world, you think, the only one is spinning you around to a jazz cover of ABBA songs.

In a moment of dizziness, you fall backwards almost crushing one of the children, who was running around more so than dancing, but Ross catches you, holding you the dramatic, fairytale way.

"Hi!"

"Hi."

---

You find the pair of you sitting on that same bench you were stood on in the morning when you first met, which now feels like a lifetime ago. The jazz band is still playing away in the background, and you're both giggly from the excessive dancing and drinking, legs overlapping each other as you share a cigarette - you feel like a teenager.

"So, are you planning on tying the knot anytime soon? Have a wedding of your own? You clearly love them," you exhale the smoke into the midsummer night and pass the cigarette back to him.

"One day," he looks over at you, "if I meet the right girl," you glance right back at him. You both burst out in peals of laughter.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"You," you jab at him slightly feeling floppy, like your limbs are made of dust, "you are made for weddings, I even thought you were the groom!"

He gives you a look of disbelief, but you insist. He blushes hard as he exhales the white, romantic smoke. He passes the cigarette back to you, which is now stained with your lipstick. You could see a trace of it on his lips in the light.

After a final puff, you admit "I wasn't really a fan of weddings... not until today."

"Oh, really?"

"This is the first one I've went to that I actually enjoyed"

And it won't be the last, he wants to say.

"You don't believe in happy endings?" he says instead.

You're in this moment, suspended outside of time, in what seems to be an alternative timeline. You don't want to imagine how your night would look if you went home. Your life looks a lot different from this angle - it's about having fun, it's about saying yes or even:

"Actually, I do."

---

Friend: You're in the background of almost everyone's insta stories btw Friend: I thought you said you went home? You: [photo] meet my date You: aka your brother-in-law xoxo Friend: ?!?!

---

A/N: Guys, I hate to break it to you but I am feeling GOOD ABOUT THIS. This is VERY MUCH inspired by this particular blurb in the teacher!Ross universe by my friend and confidant @hypersonic04 because THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE FICS ABOUT ROSS AT WEDDINGS!! I went for a 2000s romcom kinda vibe. RIP if you're waiting on me to FINALLY graze smut/NSFW territory, I am a soft girl at the end of the day - sue me! Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed, love you forever!!!

[sapphos-corner]

As the Seasons Pass Ch. 1 "Mid-July" ☆ A sapphic fiction story

Synopsis: Genie has been struggling with a homoerotic friendship. She meets a girl named Valerie through this friend. Tonight is the first time she's hanging out with Valerie one-on-one. Platonically of course. This story is gonna be a very slow burn, so this chapter surrounds the first stage of building the dynamic that Genie and Valerie will have. This is part one, but there is a background chapter that surrounds the homoerotic relationship Genie has. If you'd like to check that out, it's linked in my pinned post.

Contains: Nervous Genie. Car ride. General sapphic nervousness and awkwardness. Concert. Slice of life. Indirect kisses:p

Warnings: Although there isn't smut in this chapter, this story as a whole is not for minors. If you're not 18+ you are not welcome here, I mean this in the nicest way.

Word count: 1.6K

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I wake up to another instagram notification, a DM from Valerie.

@/Valthehuman: Wait would you want to hang out? Like before the next group hangout? There's a show tomorrow night at that bar you were asking about, if ur free/interested in going. I have an extra ticket too?

@/Geniesirius: Yeah omg, that sounds so fun, just let me know what time! :)

There's a bubbly, fluttery feeling rising in my chest that actually makes me excited to get out of bed. I head out to the kitchen and make breakfast.

My phone lights up and I pick up my phone with a record amount of speed. It's not Val. It's one of the scam texts about the election. I roll my eyes and put my phone down.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm in the middle of drawing a cute little neurographic-style page when my phone lights up again. This time it's her.

@/Valthehuman: Awesome! It starts at 7:30, do u wanna meet there or I can pick you up? It’s kind of a hard place to find unless you know what you’re looking for.

@/Geniesirius: Yeah that would be so nice actually, i hate driving into downtown :)) I'll send my address over in a sec!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm really anxious getting ready. Val's so cool and effortless. I've gone through three different outfits, I probably should have asked about the vibe.

I grip my phone and start scouring Val's page in an attempt to find the band that's playing tonight. I click on her tagged photos and scroll a bit, revealing a picture of a crowd with Val front line and center. Her eyes were wide and she had the biggest smile I've ever seen on anyone's face.

The caption reads: "So lucky to have had some of my closest friends at my first show." Posted by @/jennadummy.

After going through her feed, I see she's the drummer of this band. I watch a few of the reels and it seems to be a pretty eclectic alternative band. This is good. Everyone at the shows dress pretty casual and the crowds run pretty small.

I settle on some black cargo pants and a lavender babytee. I accessorize with some silver jewelry and spritz some peach perfume on my neck and wrists. She's picking me up in an hour and I feel a ball of anxiety building in the pit of my stomach.

I keep telling myself it's not a big deal, because it's not. I'm just hanging out with a new person and making a friend. It's not like im going on a tinder date with a stranger or something. It's literally not even a thing it's just a stupid little hangout in a public place. Oh and a forty-five minute drive with someone that's had maybe six minutes of screentime in my life so far. Fuuuuuck fuck fuck fuck fuck what are we even gonna talk about for forty-five minutes?

I pick my phone up again and start stalking her socials again, I have to find at least one thing I can resort to if things feel too quiet and weird. She has the link to her spotify in her bio, truly a godsend. She only has one playlist titled 'everything' and it's over two thousand hours long. I scroll through and see we have a ton of bands and artists in common, I click through and sample the songs and artists I don't know. All niche, obscure bands that have under a thousand monthly listeners.

In the middle of my venture, a random number texts me.

234-555-6789: Hey it's Valerie, I was wondering if you wanted to pick up some food or snacks or something to eat on the way? If so, I'll probably be on my way now, if that's okay?

I forgot we exchanged numbers earlier, my heart almost jumped out of my chest when I saw it was her. The stress I'm feeling is borderline ridiculous, but no matter how hard I try to overcome it, I can't help but turn into a puddle of nerves before I hang out with literally anyone, even (correction: especially) Sabrina.

Me: Yeah, that sounds awesome actually. I'm ready to go too so just lmk when ur on the way:))

She leaves a heart on the message and lets me know she'll be here in ten minutes.

It feels like a mass of knots are winding and tightening in the pit of my stomach. My hands are shaky and my breath is shorter than it usually is when I get nervous before going out.

I head outside two minutes before her ETA so she won't have to wait on me. She pulls up and her car is insane. It looks brand new, and it's a dark blue color.

I walk around to the passenger and open the door.

"Heeeeey, You look good." The smile on her face is major and she reaches over for me and pulls me into a tight hug.

"Hey, thanks for inviting me, it's good to see you again. You look really good too." I find that last part couldn't help but come out fast paced and slightly jumbled. She's wearing an olive green oversized button up, which is of course, unbuttoned. Underneath is a white tank top and her pants are dark and baggy. Her hair is shaggy and reflects the light, complimenting its natural black color with an orange and yellow shine. Her eyes are decorated with smudged black eyeliner, and her lip tint is a neutral brown color. If her appearance could be summed up in one word, it would be 'androgynous.'

She drives with one hand and sings under her breath so softly you'd never know she was doing it unless you paid attention. Which I'm totally not, by the way.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"My passenger door is kinda fucked up right now, so I gotta open it from outside."

She turns the wheel so smoothly, and she purses her lips as she parks. When she stops the car she develops a wide smile.

"Parked right on the first try swag"

I feel my face scrunch as I laugh through my nose. "should we call bella hadid?"

Mutual laughter erupts and she opens the driver door and steps out of the car. She speed walks over to my side and pulls the handle with a slight urgency. She walks a little quicker than me, opening the door to the gas station before I can reach it. As I walk past her, I am greeted with a lightly cologned smell. It's very woody with some light notes of vanilla.

"Thanks. You're so chivalrous."

"You gotta be while courting."

I turn my head towards her and we make eye contact. She starts shaking her head quickly. Her eyebrows lifted, her eyes squinted, Her lips upturned and pushed together awkwardly.

"I'm.. kidding.." She says semi-convincingly. For some reason a slight sense of grief stirs in my chest. Random.

"I wouldn't be mad if you were."

"You're bad at flirting."

"Me? You're...awful. Jesus. What kind of trouble are you trying to get into in the seven eleven, though?"

"Oof i don't know. Perhaps an energy drink and something sweet. How 'bout you?"

"I think I'm gonna opt for the same."

I settled on the cherry limeade celsius and dark chocolate covered pretzels. She got the sour patch kids 'ghost energy' and a bag of jolly ranchers.

"Do you like these?" She gestures to her drink.

"I've never tried it, but sour patch kid flavor is...borderline unhinged."

"Wanna try it?" She cracks the can and hands it over to me. I reciprocate the gesture and we switch cans.

"Wow this is actually really good." She lifts her eyebrows and nods her head in approval.

"This tastes radioactive. I'm getting one every time I go to the gas station now."

We re-swap and she starts back on the road.

"Would you mind handing me a jolly rancher?"

"Yeah, of course. What's your favorite flavor?"

"Blue raspberry! How about you? You can have as many as you want, by the way."

"Cherry for sure. Blue raspberry is up there too, obviously."

I grab one of each and slip hers in between her pointer and middle fingers on the wheel.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

She opens the door for me as we step into the club. The entire place is consumed by red lighting, the walls are covered in art and it's a pretty good turnout.

"You wanna drink!?" She nods her head towards the bar

"Yeah for sure!"

She grabs my hand as we walk through the crowd. Her hand is cold and soft.

"So how do you know the band!?"

"I've known the drummer since second grade! we're still good friends!"

"Do any of your other friends from school come to the shows!?"

"Yeah, our friend group from high school comes to the shows, the ones that still live nearby, at least! They should all be here tonight though!"

"That's pretty cool!"

"What do you want to drink!?"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

She insisted on covering the tab. I got an amaretto sour and she got a lemon drop martini. We walk over to the crowd and she scans the area.

Val leans in close to my ear "They're over here."

She grabs my hand again and leads me to her friend group. She introduces me, and then tells me everyone's name. I repeat it to myself in my head until it sticks. Serena, Polly, Annie, Jolene, Belle, Bridget. Serena, Polly, Annie, Jolene, Belle, Bridget. Okay, got it. I think. The group and I exchange hellos and I catch Belle smile and raise her eyebrows at Valerie. As subtly as possible I look to Val, who blushes and slyly shakes her head.

The band comes out and the crowd 'woos' in encouragement. Jenna starts screaming, which absolutely catches me off guard. The group laughs along with the rest of the audience and the singer steps up to the mic. Val turns to me and whispers in my ear. "She's just like that, it's part of her shtick."

After a short and sweet introduction, the music starts.

I catch a glimpse of Val dancing. I can't help but smile, she looks so happy. Her black eyeliner is a little more smudged than before and her eyes glitter in the red lighting. I think this has crossed the line from a glimpse to a stare as I notice Polly in the background furrow her eyebrows and cross her arms.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You came on the right night, that was one of their best sets ever."

She speeds past me as we get closer to the car, opening the door for me.

[swifty-fox]

Sci-Fi Horror AU

idk kinda word vomited this tonight after trying a new strain. I will be continuing it into a full story but not sure when

Entry Log 2043

-DateStamp: 14th July 5399

-Location: DeepSpace Sector G8677-65HG-76789_I

-Personnel File: Maj. J.C. Egan (Zoot Suit) 

Recording_

“This is Major John Egan, callsign ZootSuit, aboard the vessel M’lle ZigZag. Today is the dawn of my final day of exploration, putting an end to a sixteen-month foray into DeepSpace. Initial findings reveal little of note. A few developing stars and planets; an asteroid belt; and a total of six planets, two of which I will be recommending for a second more thorough exploration of due to planets possibly location being within the ‘Goldilocks Zone.’ I look forward to whiskey, solid food and to breathe air that isn’t recycled from a fucking can. I can’t wait to fuck my husband-”

John pauses.

“Ah, computer erase the last seven words. Reasoning: Irrelevant to mission. I will be entering Hyperspace within the hour, once I hit proper trajectory to slingshot around the primary sun.”

He taps the record button to end the log, carefully labeling the file and placing it in a folder with the few thousand other logs he’d recorded over the last year and a half. A verified library of data, observations and the occasional love-letter. A year and a half of research; one of the longest expeditions ever undertaken by any pilot. Considered bold by some and risky by far more. Deep space played with people's minds, the long stretches of isolation broken up only by Hypersleep creating the perfect recipe for a light case of mental instability.John had trained for this, ran through thousands of psychological tests and millions of scenarios. There was not a person in the universe more capable of this task. 

John rubs his jaw, feeling the scratchy beard and spins out of his pilot's chair, leaving the computer to guide the craft. 

Moving about the cramped space of the craft, built to maximize storage space; and to minimize comfort in his opinion, he begins securing anything not already safely battened down. He shaves in the cubicle sized bathroom, splashes water across his face and ignores the swirling flickers of color and light around the edges of his sight. Jaw smooth save for the now carefully trimmed mustache - just how Gale liked- he makes his way to the tail of the spacecraft to run an inventory check on his samples. Moon rocks and space dust and asteroid dirt. Anything the computer pinged or John spotted in his long hours gazing out into the empty void of space. 

He checks a few straps, making sure they’re tension tight before hitting the override on the artificial gravity. He holds the intentionally placed handle as he slowly lifts from the metal walkway. Giving himself several seconds to adjust he uses the similarly placed handles along the wall to pull himself back over to the pilot's chair. A second check on the navigation systems; the mathematical calculations for his trip around the sun and through hyperspace. Much of the process was left up to the computer these days, but John hadn’t survived twenty one missions - one of the highest in the force save for a handful - by not being thorough. 

Finding nothing out of the ordinary he switches all the lights off until his world is lit only by the approaching Red Giant, bathing everything a warm red. System lights blink soothingly as he takes a moment to take in the vast wonder in front of him. Years now it had been, and it still never failed to leave him breathless.

“Computer, begin countdown to Hyperspace entry, one minute. Beginning LCHS procedure, eta one minute.”

John pulls himself to the economically sized bunk, slotting into the space that barely left room for him to stretch and roll over, strapping himself down. 

“32…31…Thirty Second To HyperJump’’  the computer announces.

Bucky presses two fingers to his lips and then to the photograph taped above his bed. Folded so many times the crease lines were white and soft to the touch, Gale’s face gazed back at him. Caught unawares he was smiling soft and curving, glancing somewhere behind the camera. Laughing at something John had said, trying to pretend that he wasn’t. His cheek was rested in one elegant hand, gold ring glinting in the sunlight; a carbon match to the one on John’s own finger. 

“Be seeing you soon Buck.” John adjusts himself against the organic synthetic fibers of the mattress below him.

Fifteen seconds the computer chirps warningly. John always thought she got a little testy in those last few moments, as if scolding an unruly child. 

John reaches for the pouch beside his temple, withdrawing the last pill from the sheathe. Soft baby blue and the size of a quarter, he’d been issued exactly sixty-five of them upon the start of his expedition. Enough to get him all the way to the furthest reaches of the known galaxy in the shortest amount of time. Seven more consecutive jumps than had been previously attempted. Anything more than thirty and Federal Law was a minimum six months rest and recuperation before attempting further jumps. Risks for brain bleeds, heart attacks and Z-Sum sleep went up with every extra jump. John had stopped only once, stretching to forty five jumps before stopping at the nearest C-Class Planet Simulator outpost to rest. It had been his last chance to speak to Gale before he exited the reach of all communications. Eight months since he had seen that smile in any medium other than this photo. 

A quiet, tense conversation. Buck hadn’t wanted him to go; knew better than to stop him. 

“You’ll be careful out there John?” Buck was the only one to never call him Bucky. To the public he was Egan, Major if they were being formal. In private it was John, always John. His husband was strange like that. 

“More careful than a cat in a rainstorm.” 

Buck hums and squints his eyes at him. Stress sat in heavy lines at the corners of his lips, between his brows and around his temples. It had been eight months since John had kissed that mouth, tasted Gale’s sweet noises on his tongue. 

“You have enough LCHS’s to get through? None of them are compromised?” 

“Buck.” John sighs, “Come on.” 

Gale runs a hand through his hair, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth “I know you know what you’re doing...” His deep voice rumbled through the comms, staticky and pale in comparison to the in person thing.

“It’s just your job.” John finishes, grinning at Bucks self-amused shrug. “I checked them all twice. No leakage, no discoloration.” 

“I love you.” 

It never failed to make John’s spine tingle, hearing those words spoken so easily and effortlessly. The Gale he had gone to flight school with was a reserved quiet thing; John was better off trying to space-walk without a suit than pull an ounce of vulnerability from the other man. The years had softened him - John had softened him. 

“I love you too sweetheart. I’ll see you in eight months.”

Ten seconds. 

John startles, the pill slipping from his fingers and drifting in the gloom. He curses and reaches for it, straining against the straps holding him down. His steady beating heart kicks into panic mode. 

For centuries mankind had struggled to break out of the tiny confines of their miniscule corner of the universe. Confined by things like time-space and the limits of the human life span versus the distance needed to travel to discover anything new. They’d languished away certain of it was their destiny to never walk amongst the stars. Until HyperSpace had been discovered. The miniscule pocket between the folded pages of space-time. A way to jump through matter from one corner of the galaxy to another - and further. It blew the doors wide open on space exploration. They could go anywhere, journey past the point of creation they could find it. 

The only thing holding them back was the side effects of HyperSpace. It didn’t seem to pair so well with the cranial contents of human beings. The tendency to turn ones brain to pure soup was a drawback that left researchers, scientists and theorists all stumped. SMall jumps were manageable, with migraines and dizziness a much more risk-acceptable outcome. But in order for them to make any real progress they would need to find a solution,

LCHS. Lysergic Cerebral Hibernation Synthesizer.

The miracle drug and the solution to their dilemma. Developed initially from LSD the drug soothed the more vulnerable edges of one's brain and put the subject in such a deep sleep it took a reversal injection to bring one back to the waking world. It was used recreationally now as well; a way of opening one's mind to the world beyond the physical dimensions. Where light and color and feeling weren’t senses but physical states of being. It kept their pilots down for the jump; kept them asleep to the journey home. 

Without it. Well. Nobody had made a waking Hyperjump in as long as John could remember, at least had done it and lived. 

Five seconds.

John hisses through clenched teeth, straining for that little blue pill, technology his husband had dedicated his life to. Logically they both knew it was unlikely Gale had made the exact LCHS’s that sustained John, but he knew the other man pretended he did either way. The level of care put into each new batch as if it was made for his beloved specially. 

Three seconds.

John risks freeing one of his shoulders from the straps so he can get better reach. “Come on” he hisses. Closes his fingers around the dosage.

Two seconds.

John lays back, shoves his shoulder back into the strap so quickly the velcro scrapes his skin raw. He lifts the pill to his mouth, pressing past his lips.

One second.

_

_

_

Entering Hyperspace. 

Gale. John thinks.

His brain turns to mush.

[eris-snow]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), izuku x fem!reader, angst, major angst, comfort, reaching out, fuck you kacchan, haha I'm so dead inside

Masterlist

9th July. A willow tree.

---

The day starts out with an eerie calm.

The class had been relatively normal, since you’d come back to the dorms, but you could tell there was something off. It was like a radio station. Everyone was tuned in correctly, but you were on a completely different frequency.

Hush whispers ring throughout the noisy dorm, and while Denki was doing a good job and distracting mostly everyone, the worry underneath your classmates’ facades was not easily erased.

Everything was fine.

Until it was not.

“Midoriya’s not in school due to the unfortunate events yesterday, do your self-study during homeroom.” Aizawa’s voice echoes through the class. The air thickens, and so does the tension. You feel everyone stiffen at Aizawa’s words while dread chews a hole in your stomach.

Unfortunate events?

Your head whips to Kacchan, and his sharp eyes refuse to meet your gaze.

He won’t even look at me.

“L/n, come with me,” Aizawa concludes, ending his brief, before he stalks out of the class. Your chair is flying backwards as you sprint outside.

“Sensei, what happened?” You try to squeeze the nervousness out of your voice and stem it with politeness, but you just can’t.

“Midoriya’s condition is not critical, L/n.” Aizawa starts. Frustration pools in your gut, and you’re about to open your mouth again when Aizawa holds up a hand. “Let me finish, problem child.”

Backing down, you eye your teacher’s scarred face with pent-up malice, waiting for him to continue.

“Midoriya’s condition is not critical, and he is to be discharged tomorrow. Rest assured, he is fine. The cause, which you are wondering,” he flashes a Post-it note, which was once yours. “Is both your inability to move on and Bakugou’s hard insistence that this will help you too.”

There’s a desert in your mouth, because all you taste is dry sand.

“I’m not accusing you,” Aizawa says, pocketing the sticky note when you reach out for it. “What happened, happened, and Midoriya’s recklessness has a huge part to play in his own hospitalisation, too.”

Hospitalisation.

Of course, the idiot sunshine had to push himself too far.

“He’s being reckless.” You whisper, shaking your head. “He’s not thinking straight.”

Aizawa sighs, probably in agreement. “I understand your concern, which is also why I know that you’d want to visit him today. Not that I can’t stop you, but I’d rather not have to expend more energy than I need to on 20 of you overzealous problem children. After school, please. I’ll give you the permission slip after school.”

You have a week left like this. 7 days. 7 days until he forgets, 7 days until he leaves you again.

7 days until Izuku is free of you.

“Use your time wisely, L/n. There isn’t much left.”

—

“Zuku fainted, and you decided the best thing to do was to leave me in the dark?” You shouted, face etched with unbridled anger.

Class was a good distraction, from the severity of Izuku’s stupid actions, but the minute afternoon lessons ended, the fear that had been held at the metaphorical coastal line had come rushing back like a tsunami. Kacchan was waiting for you in the kitchen, just as you were about to leave.

Katsuki looks you in the eyes, dead serious. There are eye bags under his eyes and there’s a rasp from when he was probably kept up all night, but standing up straighter, shoulders set, he’s slowly filling out the mould of the hero he always wanted to be.

“I did what I thought was best.”

The. Fucking. Nerve.

“No, you did what you wanted.” There’s fire on your hands and hot wax on your fingertips. Bile rises to your throat as you stalk closer, doing everything you can to remember that the person standing in front of you is your friend. Murder would not look good on your track record.

“Izuku has the sticky notes that could send him over the edge, and I had them. Izuku’s in the hospital, Kacchan. He hasn’t been hospitalized because of this for 3 years, and he’s going to wake up thinking that he’s a lunatic.”

Katsuki glares, all bark, all bite. “I did what I had to do, Starlight. If you want this, if you really want this, you’d fight for it. Izuku is, and you need to as well, not fucking make deals with the devil that caused this.”

Red-hot anger flares, and you shove him backwards. Everything is red.

“Oh, so that’s what you think I did yesterday.” You snarl, watching him stumble two steps, dig his feet into the carpet, and lock eyes with you.

“Aizawa gave you the report, didn’t he? He let you be there when you couldn’t.”

The report being a summary of what happened to give to your guardian because Tartarus is no place for a teenage girl, hero-in-training, or not.

Analysing Katsuki for years has given you insight into what must have happened.

Apparently, Aizawa deemed him fit to know, and the impatient prick had stormed off before he heard the whole story.

Unbelievable.

Your voice doesn’t sound like your voice anymore. “I didn’t do anything, Kacchan, I rejected his offer because I believed I was strong enough. I believed in myself because you believed in me.”

The spiky hair and the creases on his forehead, his burning desire to excel and his blazing yearning for you to try harder. All these qualities should make him definable, but you can’t recognise him.

First taking the Secrets you held dear, then covering up the consequences. Now, you see doubt in his eyes. Kacchan has never given up on you, never left you out of the equation.

You look at him, and you see a stranger. “You’re not my friend.” One foot backtracks, and you see something in his expression fold. “You’re not Kacchan.”

You stagger back to the exit, eyes tearing away.

Kacchan calls, while you run.

Everything turns a murky grey, swallowing Kacchan up in its monotone colours too. Shame, his eyes were the prettiest shade of red you’d come to miss. But you’d said it yourself.

I don’t know you.

—

Izuku wakes to the bright fluorescent lights of the—

Oh scrap that, no he doesn’t. He wakes up to the nastiest head-pounding migraine ever known to mankind.

He’s gotten slammed straight into concrete, gotten thrown headfirst into a bus, and that still hurt less than what he was experiencing now.

“You’re awake,” The voice is neutral, a void of emotion. The voice belongs to you.

You’re already pushing your homework aside to pay attention to him fully. That sobers him very quickly.

White walls, heart monitor, no Recovery Girl, fuck, he’s in a hospital.

And you’re here.

Oh nooo.

Worry is etched onto your face as you take in his own expression, reading him like he were a picture book with big bold letters. You’re not wearing your uniform, so either he messed up his head bad enough such that it was a weekend already, or you had changed before coming here.

“I’ll go get the nurse.” You say finally, making a move to stand.

Catching your hand, he shakes his head. “I—”

“—am incredibly stupid.” You finish, shaking him off. He lets you. There’s a hint of betrayal in your voice, and the heat beneath your monotone voice is a silent feeling that doesn’t quite sound like anger.

It sounds like hurt.

“I asked Kacchan to give me a trigger,” Izuku says quietly. “I’m sorry for worrying you, and I’m sorry for taking your notes. But if I were to do it again, I would.”

Your eyes widen a little when you hear his words, but you school your face back into its expressionless facade. “Katsuki is more than capable of making his own decisions, and so are you. I can’t control what you do. I get that, but you shouldn’t keep doing this.”

There’s something about the way you look at him, like you’re staring deep into his soul and something past he can see. It’s a spark in your eyes, and it’s beautiful.

“Why?” Izuku challenges. “This has got to do with my birthday, isn’t it? I’m trying to get the whole picture, but puzzle pieces are still missing. Please tell me, Starlight.”

The worksheets you’re holding slip from your fingers.

The world turns, and then it stops, zooming in on just Izuku and you sitting in a small hospital ward 30 minutes from U.A. The world implodes.

You look like you’re staring into the abyss of hell itself.

“I’m starting to…remember,” Izuku admits, recalling the precious shards of his memory back to himself. In a sandbox, building sandcastles under the night sky. Your name is Starlight. “I’m starting to understand, why you keep looking at me like that.”

A wistful expression, a jagged smile. Words with double meanings because you didn’t like lying.

Izuku’s been observing you closer than ever before now, and he’s gotten better at reading you. He knows you. Partially.

You don’t look happy, though. No, you look afraid. “Midoriya, it’s dangerous.” You whisper. “Your mind, the pain…you’ve felt it firsthand. It’s excruciating.”

“I fought a war, I’d be an excuse of a hero if I couldn’t handle this.”

Bursting at the seams, desperation lines your cadence. Ever since he’d dropped your nickname, you’d been frenzied and scattered.

Your voice cracks. “Don’t hurt for me.”

“Oh, but you get to spew your guts out for me?” Izuku demands, trying to meet your gaze. It’s always so difficult, because you never really look him in the eyes. “You get to suffer because of me? Does that make you feel self-righteous? Does that make you feel better about yourself?”

Emptiness holes itself inside his chest. When he sees the true colours shine through on your face, it’s the word broken personified. Inhale, exhale. He needs to get through this.

“I told you, didn’t I? I’m getting to the bottom of this. If you really know me, there’s no stopping me. Don’t be afraid.” He softens, reaching out his arm.

“Take my hand.”

It’s like you’re 10 all over again, and your roles are reversed.

Izuku ran from you. Now he’s right here in front of you, seeking your aid.

The mop-head is smiling. “Let’s do this together, Starlight.”

Damn it, Izuku, with him and his Talk-no-jitsu and shining eyes that were doubtless.

“I’m your best friend.” You’d said once. “Don’t leave me.”

There’s only one right answer, and you aren’t willing to make the same mistake twice.

Scarred fingers interlock with yours.

No words are exchanged between the both of you at that time, but the silence is heavy with meaning.

Izuku smiles, and haloed by the glow of the setting sun, it looks like even the sun is smiling down on you.

[tiktaalic]

Why are you (and others) so convinced that Neil Gaiman must be lying when he implies that he and Terry Pratchett always intended Azicrow to be canon in the potential second Good Omens book? I'm new to this fandom so don't know the backstory, but Gaiman has been writing gay characters (and nonbinary angels) since the '90s, and Pratchett according to fans is an ally. I've seen a few receipts (about Gaiman not "getting" slash) from the early oughts, but the South Downs cottage endgame comes from a conversation G&P had about the sequel in 2005 (see the story here: https://. thegoodomensdumpster. tumblr.com/ post/621209875504054272/.. where-the-south-downs-thing-comes-from). He seems credible but did he say something since then?

I mean. Even in the excerpt you sent there’s this.

people have asked him about the south downs, and scenes in the book, and any time he's asked he takes the chance to reiterate that it's Not Canon. this has been the line for 30 years. this was the line a month! before the show aired. i think it's true that the planned sequel was aziraphale and crowley focused. this makes sense to me. they were on book covers, they were people's favorites. i dont think this means hes been planning a romance since the 90s. prior to the show, the stances neil gaiman had, had repeatedly on record, and never strayed from were:

+ it's fine if you like azcrow i want you to continue to have fun with it if you like it, but it's not canon, it is strictly 100% fanon.

+ the sequel is about aziraphale and crowley

+ i am not comfortable making a season two because it would involve creating new content that terry would not have input on.

after season one aired, the stances were:

+ i intended azcrow as a love story. i always have.

+ season 2 coming july 2023!

+ the new seasons that i'm writing were something i discussed with terry decades ago.

which is simply. not true. either he spent 30 years lying. because. ??? or he has spent the years after season 1 garnered a lot of praise for having gay people in it lying. because it makes him look good, and because s2 (and 3) will make money. one of these options makes sense. one of them doesnt. like.

this was one MONTH before the show. if he for real always since nineteen ninety meant azcrow was in a relationship. why would he. a month before his show. say DONT get it twisted it's NOT a love life.

i also dont think its worth anything to compare representation in gomens to his other works, bc his other works are very very different. gomens is solidly pg13 lighthearted romp. and - as someone who has read a lot of neil gaiman's work, and liked a lot of neil gaiman's work, most of it errs to the side of i'm SICK. i'm TWISTED. im FUCKED UP and WEIRD. and. to be clear. i am not calling him homophobic. i am not doubting that he legitimately cares about gay people in his life. but i do think. he like many other men. were like. you know what'll take this fucked up weird story from a 10 to a 100. if there were GAY MEN in it. and to be doubly clear. i am speaking primarily about american gods, which is what i remember with most clarity. which is fine. its a fine thing to do. representation win the guy who writes weird horror adjacent sex scenes wrote one about men. (this is a gross oversimplification of sex scenes in american gods).

and again i well and truly do not blame the man for being like. um. actually i dont want the characters i based on me and my buddy to be in love or have sex in my lighthearted pg 13 story. i think this is a very normal stance to have! i would never fault someone for this stance! it's just. the lying. the people who are ragging on him are primarily composed, from what i can tell, of book fans who followed him pre show. because he was exceedingly consistent about his opinions pre show. again. if you followed him at any point! before the show you would see his opinions iterated then reiterated. if you followed him a MONTH! 30 DAYS! before the show you would see his pre show opinions. because he's expressed the exact same opinion dozens of times since 1990. and they quite literally only changed once it came out and people started praising him.

[w4ndering-th0ught]

letter. 683 words. @jegulus-microfic.

Italics: Regulus / Bold: James

June 2, 1981

Dear Brother,

I write this knowing that you may never read it.

But this time I had to try.

I’m told you are still alive. Frankly, I’m surprised you made it through this war. You were always one of the first people to throw yourself into the line of danger.

I don’t know how much Dumbledore told you of the events at the end of the war. I’m not sure how much I’m permitted to share.

I want you to know that I left, Sirius. I should have done it sooner, but. Well.

- R. A. B.

June 16, 1981

Regulus,

Sirius read your letter. I don’t know if he’ll reply. But he read it.

I thought you’d like to know.

We all thought you were dead.

- James Potter

June 17, 1981

Potter,

Not dead, obviously.

How is he?

- R. A. B.

June 17, 1981

Dear Sirius,

I’d like to see you again. I miss you.

- R. A. B.

June 20, 1981

Regulus,

He’s well. Or as well as any of us are at this point.

Dumbledore won’t tell us anything about you. What happened?

- James Potter

June 23, 1981

Potter,

What a ridiculously broad question. What happened? Shall I just list out all the events from the last two years of my life?

- R. A. B.

June 24, 1981

Regulus,

That’d use up a fair bit of parchment, I’m not sure your little owl could handle quite that much.

You know what I mean.

- James Potter

June 25, 1981

Potter,

She can handle quite a lot, thank you.

Her name is Fran.

- R. A. B.

June 26, 1981

Regulus,

I gave Fran a few extra treats in apology. I hope you don’t mind.

I’m still waiting on an answer.

- James Potter.

June 30, 1981

Potter,

As I said in my first letter. (Which if I remember correctly was not even addressed to you.)

I left.

Dumbledore hasn’t said anything? He promised he’d

- R. A. B.

July 1, 1981

Regulus,

Left? Left what? The Death Eaters? Your family? When did you leave? Why? What changed? Did they hurt you? Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell anyone until now?

Did Dumbledore help you?

I’ve been trying to get answers out of him for weeks, but he won’t budge.

- James Potter

July 2, 1981

James,

I can’t say more. I made a promise.

- R. A. B.

July 3, 1981

Regulus,

We thought you died for them.

Sirius thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead. For them.

So fuck your promise. Fuck you.

- James Potter

July 13, 1981

Dear Sirius,

I’m sorry. It’s taken me far too long to say it.

I’m so sorry.

I love you.

- R. A. B.

July 13, 1981

James,

I don’t know if you still read my letters to Sirius, but I’m sorry to you, too.

I’m sorry about all of it.

I know I’m not being fair. And I’m not asking for forgiveness.

I just want you to know.

I sound like a broken record.

- R. A. B.

July 15, 1981

Regulus,

How do you know what a record is?

- James Potter

July 15, 1981

James,

I stayed with muggles after I left. I learned a lot.

They thought I was very strange.

- R. A. B.

July 16, 1981

Regulus,

Well look who’s finally answering some questions.

Still waiting on an answer to the rest of them.

- James Potter

July 17, 1981

Potter,

I would if I could.

You’re spoiling Fran with those treats. She keeps turning her nose up at mealtimes.

- R. A. B.

July 18, 1981

Regulus,

I get specialty dried rabbit chunks from a little muggle bird shop called Bach Bach. They exclusively play classical music. Fran has excellent taste.

- James Potter

July 19, 1981

Potter,

There’s a little park across the street from that shop. It’s a lovely spot. I think I might start taking my morning walks there.

- R.A.B.

July 20, 1981

Regulus,

I’ll be there on the 22nd, 9am. You better be there.

- James Potter

July 21, 1981

James,

I will be.

- R. A. B.

[queenlua]

amusing bits from Martin Luther: Renegade and Prophet so far:

* "What sparked [Luther's] anger, so he later reminisced, was the preaching of a Dominican friar, Johannes Tetzel, in the nearby town of Jüterborg, who went so far as to claim that his indulgences were so efficacious that even if a person had raped the Virgin Mary they would be assured complete remission from Purgatory." used car salesman-ass strategy lol

* "...the wealth of material that has survived on Luther is so great that we probably know more about his inner life than about that of any other sixteenth-century individual... His collected works, the famous Weimar Edition, extend to 120 volumes, including 11 volumes of letters and 6 volumes of his dinner-table conversations"

holy FUCK. truly a poaster before his time. like would the median tumblr blog fill 120 volumes jeez

* "In the early years of the Reformation, for example, [Luther] talked constantly of invidia, or envy, attributing it to his opponents—though it is hardly likely that they would have envied a penniless, powerless monk, while he, on the other hand, had every reason to be preoccupied with those he envied." lmao. mean girl who goes "they're just jealous" every time ppl hate on him

* "Extraordinarily, in an age when letters were routinely passed from person to person, were forged or intercepted, and when every chancellery filed drafts, Luther kept no copies. This gave his correspondents huge power, because they alone had records of what he had written, but Luther was relaxed about this, joking that he could always deny his own 'hand,' a remark that reveals his remarkable confidence."

i will have to look into this later but this is lowkey fascinating??? it hadn't occurred to me the 16th century world would've, like. written out copies of every damn thing. to support audit trails and such. just because the overhead of producing all those damn copies seems really high. suggests fun possibilities for intrigue and mailfraud shenanigans lol

* "It was popularly believed that when of the counts [in the town where Luther grew up] commissioned an altarpiece for the chapel depicting the Crucifixion, he had the thief on Christ's right painted as his most hated co-ruler

LMAOOOooo. also reminds me of the funny story that the tobacco magnate who funded the creation of Duke University Chapel asked that the stained glass depict the 12 desciples smoking cigarettes, and the dude had to be talked out of it... though i can't find any reference to the story on the internet, sadly. did the duke chapel tour guide MAKE UP LIES to me

* Luther grew up in a family that owned a mine & it's sort of hilarious how bad all these 1500s miners were at economics. they're like. running whole mining operations but with only the haziest idea of, like. where capital comes from. how to not resource trap your way into fuckedness. etc. i dunk on economists a lot but y'know there are some concepts here that actually were p worth formalizing

* our dude Luther was a fucking DRAMA QUEEN let me tell you:

"[Luther] joined the Augustinian order in Erfurt on July 17, 1505 [...] Luther sent his academic gown and ring home to Mansfeld, telling his parents he had drawn a line under this part of his life. He sold some of the fine legal textbooks his father had bought him and donated others to the monastery. Then he invited all his student comrades to a lavish meal, with music and entertainment. At the height of the party, he told his shocked companions of his decision to become a monk, announcing melodramatically, 'Today you see me and never again!' He then left for the monastery, accompanied by his sobbing companions." bet those dudes never forgot that party

* though Martin Luther's dad sure could match him for drama queen-ness (and apparently never stopped resenting Luther becoming a monk instead of a lawyer):

"At the ensuing feast to celebrate [Luther's first mass a priest], for which Luther's father, always the man for the grand gesture, had given the sum of twenty guilders, the breach was still evident. Luther asked whether his father now accepted his decision, and in front of everyone at the table, Hans Luder replied, 'Remember the fourth commandment, to obey father and mother.' 'What if it was an evil spirit' behind [the storm that convinced Martin to become a monk]? he asked. It was a very serious charge, made at a point where Luther had just acted as Christ's representative on earth for the first time."

* Luther was in one of the more hardcore monkish orders, and said order had a pretty rigorous schedule of prayers that involved waking up in the middle of the night... but apparently you could just pay other monks to pray for you if you just Didn't Feel Like Doing It one day? lmao. and in particular Luther did the strategy of "i'll just get them done ALL IN ONE DAY" instead of, like, doing them throughout the week (going without food or sleep, working that day & night to get them done)

* our dude could definitely be a poor lil meow meow / woobie if fandom got their hands on him. this boy is constantly having literal panic attacks about WHAT IF I MISINTERPRETED THIS PART OF SCRIPTURE AND NOW WE'RE ALL GOING TO HELL, when he's in Rome one of the things that bothers him the most (besides the famous indulgence thing) is the fact that they SPEEDRAN masses over there and he's like "oh no though, i spend SO MUCH time on the masses i run, i'm so afraid of doing it without true feeling... who are these speedrunning fucks with no respect goddamn," his confessor gets tired of him because he'll spend UP TO SIX HOURS AT CONFESSION agonizing over shit that doesn't matter... (this is part of the reason he went into academia, actually, his confessor was like "boy you have got way too much anxiety for the purely monastic life, go get a degree or something i stg")

* i do kinda love it when theologians get sexy with it:

"[Staupitz] wrote of different 'stages' of union of the soul, the first being that of 'young maids in faith,' the second that of the 'concubine,' the third, the 'queens': 'They are naked and copulate with the naked one. They taste that outside Christ there is nothing sweet and they enjoy [his] continuous sweetness. For the naked Christ cannot deny himself to those naked,' while in the fourth stage, which Mary alone experienced, Jesus 'sleeps naked with her naked and he shows other signs of such love.'"

[noloveforned]

i'm back from my long weekend in chapel hill and ready to hit wlur at 8pm with a new show so tune in if you're around tonight!

last weekend was all about celebrating 35 years of merge records. i joined in on the fun with a three hour restrospective of merge releases (stream it on mixcloud) in (mostly) reverse chronological order. as always some stuff got left out so my apologies go out to polvo, sacred paws, and the others i would have liked to squeeze in!

no love for ned on wlur – july 26th, 2024 from 8-11pm - merge records 35th anniversary show

artist // track // album // label superchunk // everybody dies // everybody dies 7" // merge quivers // apparition // oyster cuts // merge rosali // my kind // bite down // merge mhaol // bored of men // attachment styles // merge carson mchone // hawks don't share // still life // merge hiss golden messenger // hardlytown // quietly blowing it // merge the mountain goats // last gasp at calama // songs for pierre chuvin // merge cable ties // hope // far enough // merge archers of loaf // raleigh days // raleigh days 7" // merge gauche // flash // a people's history of gauche // merge swearin' // oil and water // fall into the sun // merge waxahatchee // silver // out in the storm // merge h.c. mcentire // quartz in the valley // lionheart // merge teenage fanclub // the darkest part of the night // here // merge twerps // back to you // range anxiety // merge ex hex // waste your time // rips // merge mikal cronin // weight // mcii // merge mount moriah // lament // mount moriah // merge wild flag // romance // wild flag // merge times new viking // it's a culture // dancer equired // merge superchunk // digging for something // majesty shredding // merge jay reatard // pull down the shades // stroke - songs for chris knox tribute // merge telekinesis // coast of carolina // telekinesis! // merge big dipper // wrong in the charts // supercluster- the big dipper anthology // merge shout out louds // normandie // our ill wills // merge camera obscura // lloyd, i'm ready to be heartbroken // let's get out of this country // merge robert pollard // dancing girls and dancing men // from a compound eye // merge tenement halls // plenty is never enough // knitting needles and bicycle bells // merge arcade fire // neighborhood #1 (tunnels) // funeral // merge richard buckner // a chance counsel // dents and shells // merge crooked fingers // big darkness // red devil dawn // merge destroyer // this night // this night // merge the essex green // the late great cassiopia // the long goodbye // merge the rosebuds // kicks in the schoolyard // make out // merge spoon // small stakes // kill the moonlight // merge the clean // drawing to a whole // anthology // merge annie hayden // red lines // the rub // merge the ladybug transistor // perfect for shattering // argyle heir // merge the rock*a*teens // car and driver // sweet bird of youth // merge superchunk // hello hawk // come pick me up // merge neutral milk hotel // two-headed boy // in the aeroplane over the sea // merge lambchop // your fucking sunny day // thriller // merge butterglory // she clicks the sticks // are you building a temple in heaven? // merge east river pipe // hey, where's your girl? // poor fricky // merge the magnetic fields // born on a train // the charm of the highway strip // merge 3ds // beautiful things // the venus trail // merge seam // granny 9x // granny 9x 7" // merge erectus monotone // vertigogo // vertigogo 7" // merge finger // everywhere // everywhere 7" // merge chunk // my noise // what i do 7" // merge

[bentosandbox]

don't block me for this bento lol but while yes i get that her being Huge is hyperbole, i just can't suspend my disbelief that her being tall for a typical IRL asian woman jives with her in-game quote about having trouble getting through doors. she's the only op (outside mudrock i guess) who even has such a line, while men bigger than her have no problems or worries about banging their heads off the supposed tiny doorframe. i'm just being nitpicky about environmental implications i guess lol like why does she have this problem that no one else seems to have. gacha be gacha c'est la vie

also, what was the right line hoshi said to bagpipe? this is the first i've heard of it being mistranslated? :o (thank you for your TL work btw you're one of the few bastions of sense in this wasteland)

you're welcome + all good dw i have a pretty high block threshold for better or worse

Yeah i get it! BUT here is my copium reasoning

184cm + horn height (if as long as her face + average face length = 20cm) + boot heel height (about 3cm) = 207cm which is just very slightly over average door height (here?) which is 205cm and my view is that just slightly missing a few cm is way more troublesome than going through a door that's obviously smaller than your height since you'll definitely know when to duck than having a perceived illusion that you can make it through without bending down a little and then BANG the rhodes door frame has a little hole or something

I mentioned it here in a little rant i did last july but i'll explain it more in detail below (i thought i did before somewhere. probably twitter but i can't find it so i'll just do another one here)

I'll do a more literal TL first

风笛: 那个......我的钱包和护照都丢在莱塔尼亚了。 Bagpipe: Um...I lost both my wallet and passport while I was in Leithanien. 星熊: ......我是不是该佩服你？ Hoshiguma: ...Should I be admiring you? 风笛: ——被炸得一点不剩了。 Bagpipe: ——They got blown up with not even a shred left. 星熊: 我确实该佩服你。 Hoshiguma: Indeed, I should be admiring you.

And 佩服 really does mean admire

'what's wrong then' But admire has like 2 main definitions

And whoever translated it went with the second definition instead of the first; it's not admire in the 'oooo you have an admirer' (someone who fancies you) way, it's admire in the 'wow i admire your tenacity to make your way all the way from Londinium to Lungmen even after almost getting blown to bits otw'

'what makes you so sure its that reading over the other' just read the context of the conversation + I'm well aware of my bias for the JP loc but like. it's because their TL track record is pretty good (esp with characterisation) so I sometimes check it to double confirm my readings, and they use 褒める here which is homeru for you weebs and for everyone else

So back to the lines, admire sounds strange in context, but the idea is that hoshi is so impressed by her tenacity that she goes 'wow should i praise you?' so I would use 'impress' here

Bagpipe: Um...I lost both my wallet and passport while I was in Leithanien. Hoshiguma: ...Should I be impressed? Bagpipe: ——They got blown up with not even a shred left. Hoshiguma: Yeah, I should be. (Or 'Yeah, that's pretty impressive.' to flow better but it loses the 'should' which I prefer because Hoshi has a tendency to be very passive in her speech)

also also sorry i need to get this out lol i know they want swire to be as bratty as possible or whatever but :\ aghdgfhfgffff as someone who also calls their dad 爸爸 with cantonese tones and not mandarin im just really fucking bummed ok the rep would have been cool it, also has the slightly childish vibe to it that 'daddy' has so (without the discord kitten vibes even /shrug) Yuxia calls her dad 爸 if anyone was wondering

bonus since i mentioned chen's op rec in that og post

insane that swire's oprec was the last of her batch and chen is the first of the batch after so theyre next to each other in the medal list

TL is fine for the most part but man this is some 'parents making you call them by their first name' level of americanization (they took out most of the 警司 especially the one in their 'first' meeting??naur way...)