#it is straightforward and simple potatoes

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

honestly it is really encouraging to me though that this time around i can talk about quarry bullshit without getting Upset. it was genuinely triggering and distressing as fuck running into it facefirst last year, and then having to go through it with a microscope to process the psychic damage it did me. doing so did, however, lay the groundwork for unpacking LL's shit this year, and unpacking LL's shit has laid even more groundwork for me to go back to TQ and confidently describe what i'm talking about.

as much as the AAAAAAAAAAAAA has sucked to wade through in both cases, i've said it before and i'll say it again, it's genuinely therapeutic and it will hopefully make it even easier to unpack the next time i run into something like this.

[willowser]

bakugou makes me so insane like i think he's so choppy and awkward and weird about expressing his feelings for you and he is physically incapable of doing it straightforward—but he will offhandedly gruff out the most romantic things to you.

you're sitting on the kitchen counter as he's chopping veggies for dinner, and he'd brought home the awful news that sero and his long-time—long, long-time—girlfriend had just broken up, and you're like—

"man, that's so sad," frowning down at your feet as you kick them out, glancing over at how focused katsuki is on cutting equally sized potatoes. "can you imagine having to get out in the dating pool after so long? i wouldn't know where to start."

and he's in the zone, so you get a simple hum in response.

now, you don't mean it when you say it, at all, but to be a little shit you poke him lightly in the butt with your toe and wiggle your finger when he glances up at you, at the soggy band-aid wrapped around the tip. "maybe you need to get back out there," you tease, raising your eyebrows when he frowns. "maybe you'll find someone that doesnt nearly cut their finger off in the kitchen or someone that isn't such a crybaby."

it earns you an ugly look, talking like that, and he huffs out his annoyance before going back to the task at hand. "shut up, as if you weren't fuckin' made for me."

and he says it so—unbothered, doesn't even look back at you when your legs finally still and you're stuck just staring at him. because he's too worried about his stupid potatoes.

"what?" you ask, trying not to let your lower lip jut out because he'll hear the tears in your voice right away. "what do you mean?"

katsuki looks anyway, just glances, but at the sheen to your eyes and how big they've gotten, he straightens up immediately. he's alarmed, for a moment, but then it seems to settle what he's said out loud, and he hikes his shoulders up to his ears and pointedly looks away. "y'know what i mean."

and then he scowls and grits his teeth and his cheekies turn so red as you burst into tears.

[klutzyroses]

IkeVamp HCs: S/O trying to carry them while they're sleeping

How do they react when they fall asleep and their s/o tries (and fails) to carry them to bed?

Suitors: Napoleon, Leonardo, Drake (AKA The sleepy bunch)

Napoleon

Monsieur le Empereur is the worst at waking up. This is common knowledge.

Sometimes, he is so beat in the morning that he just falls back asleep, even at the dining table after he managed to get this far, only to lose consciousness there.

Such was the case when Y/N found him in this state after attempting to bring him breakfast. She shook her head in disapproval, sighing as she put his plate down on the table.

"Napoleon, honey..."

She tried to wake him back up, but no such luck, he was far beyond the reach of wakefulness. She stared at him helplessly for a couple of seconds, unsure what to do.

Did she let him sleep a bit more? Normally she would have done so, but the position he was in was looked a bit...

He was definitely going to wake up with a sore back. Or neck.

Or both.

No, she had to move him. Or try to get him somewhere more comfortable. Surely she could get him to his room...it couldn't be all that hard...

Right?

Shaking her head and imbuing herself with faux confidence, she tossed his arm over her shoulder, securing her grip around his waist. Counting to three, she huffed as she eased him out of the chair.

The second, no, even before she was fully standing, she knew. She just knew this was a horrible idea.

Napoleon, well he...was not light. And she did not have super strength. And she was smaller than him. And he was bigger than her.

One would think those clearly obvious facts would have stopped her from ever trying this in the first place, but she had thought manifesting success would ensure this would go smoothly in real life.

It did not.

Seeing as the former emperor just...slid out of her grip and landed on the unforgiving floor. And since she was trying to hold onto him, she went down with him, suffering his fate.

Napoleon's jade eyes snapped open as dull pain briefly flooded his senses, a small weight on top of him. After quickly- and groggily- assessing the situation, he narrowed his eyes as he sent a mock glare her way, his voice taking on a warning tone at his love, who gave an uneasy laugh as she sat in his lap.

"Nunuche..."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He's not really mad, but honestly... Did she think this would end well? He shook his head, his lips tilting into a smile against his will as he messed her hair up. He could not believe her, the silly sweetheart.

"You're too much, cherie. Just wake me up like a normal person instead of hurting us both."

Leonardo

How was she going to do this...?

Leonardo, as is typical of....well, Leonardo, had fallen asleep in the hallway, for his cara mia to find him.

She felt a long suffering sigh well up in her chest, held it back, then instead released a heavy breath as her shoulders sagged.

Why was he this way? The other residents usually just ignored him, or didn't realise he was there, therefore stepping on the man.

A quick glance around the hall let her know that it was up to her to make sure he didn't wake up with footprints all over him. And pureblood or not, she would not have him catch a cold out here.

Wiping her hands on her skirt to dry her grip, she slid her arms under him, trying to work an angle to best sweep him into her embrace, whisk him to his room and tuck him in lovingly into his bed.

A simple, straightforward task, yes?

Unfortunately, as soon as she tried to lift him, she was met with an insurmountable obstacle, a merciless foe intent on thwarting her plans.

This enemy, called reality, had different ideas concerning her physical capabilities and very much reminded her why she never tried to carry a 6ft sleeping man before.

The main reason? Plain and simple, he was too heavy for her to carry.

Hence why when she stood up, her arms almost immediately gave out and she practically tossed him onto the floor like a bag of potatoes.

Leading to his tired amber gaze peering up at her from his position on the red carpet, blinking the sleep away slowly as her horrified look came into focus.

"...Got a bit too ambitious there, Cara mia?"

A sleepy half smirk curled onto his lips as the flustered woman quickly knelt by him, apologies spilling forth.

"Papi, I'm sorry, that was an accident, are you ok-aaaayy?!"

She found herself on top of him as he pulled her close to him, holding her hostage on the floor.

"We'll get up in a minute, just stay put for a bit, hm?"

He finds it amusing that she thought she could even drag him across the floor, let alone carry him in her arms. But she was sweet for caring enough to try.

Drake

Oh dear oh dear...

That particular evening, Y/N had hurried to see Drake at his tour boat as promised and stumbled upon a...most unexpected sight.

Finding her beloved laying in his boat she initially panicked, thinking he was hurt.

No, he was just sleeping. Thank goodness...

The sailor's impulse control was that of a cat's. He did whatever he wanted when the mood struck. So she supposed she shouldn't have been too surprised to find him taking a nap on a whim.

But...she couldn't leave him sleeping there, could she? It couldn't be all that safe. But he also looked so...peaceful. So sweet, she felt bad waking him up. He probably had a long day.

She tilted her head pensively. Maybe she could move him? Tired or not, she didn't feel good about leaving him on the boat. She should at least get him on solid ground.

Nodding to herself, she wriggled her arms under him, hooking them under his. She groaned as she braced to stand under his weight.

"Okay sweetie, up you go!"

And she managed to lift his much larger frame, shaking with the effort, but then came the humbling realization that she in fact could not carry a grown man and even attempting to was a mistake with unthought of consequences.

Because one moment she had him, next thing, she'd dropped her boyfriend into the Seine.

Two seconds later, he surfaced, bewildered as his aquamarine eyes landed on her sheepish form kneeling by the river, her hand over her mouth in shock. She then nervously smiled at him while he gaped owlishly at her.

"Oopsie...sorry..."

He's not too fussed about it, he finds it funny actually. What did she think she was doing? She really thought she could carry him? She was so adorable...

Laughing it off, the soaked sailor pulled himself up from the water, rubbing their noses together affectionately.

"I'll get my revenge for that, little fawn."

He cooed against her lips, a smirk forming on his own that promised retaliation, sending a shiver down her spine.

🌸

[homunculus-argument]

Had a dream last night there was someone on TikTok whose gender presentation and accent were so distinctly and deliberately unusual and anbiguous that it was impossible to draw any conclusions of them. Their whole thing was people asking them questions about who they are and them giving answers that were both creatively poetic, oddly specific, and also not giving the simple straightforward answer that the straightforward question was clearly asking.

It had apparently started out as people demanding to know what exactly their assigned gender and nationality were, but since their answers were so funny it became a meme of people asking the most simple and direct questions and them giving these iconic kind of non-answers, as a bit that everyone was in on.

Like the video I remember seeing was of someone asking "hey what colour are your eyes? I can't quite tell from the video quality" and them answering "my eyes are actually the colour of potato flowers". And as potato flowers' colour ranges from white and pale yellow to shades of lilac, and their eyes were clearly either hazel or brown, this was not only an unusual way to describe someone's eye colour, but also a flat-out blatant lie.

I'm not even on TikTok but in hindsight that does sound like something that'd go down over there.

[levisjinchuriki]

insatiable - ch 9

summary: there's tension when haru asks if you and gojo are happy together

warning: slow burn, fluff, angst, unspoken feelings, haru being too smart for his own good

word count: 2.6k

life following your first dinner date with gojo feels different—lighter, more hopeful. there’s an understanding between you two, a shared determination to keep moving forward. you spend more time together, not just with each other, but as a family. it starts with small outings—going to the park, visiting the zoo, and even the simple act of grocery shopping together. big or small, haru is always thrilled to have both of his parents around.

gojo stays for dinner one evening after a long day spent together as a family. as you work in the kitchen, he’s by your side, his presence a familiar and comforting constant. haru is at the dining table, engrossed in his coloring, the soft sounds of crayons on paper adding to the peaceful ambiance.

the kitchen is filled with the aroma of your cooking, mingling with the soft hum of casual conversation. it feels like a return to simpler times—those moments when the three of you were a seamless unit, content in each other’s company.

haru has noticed the change too. he sees how often he’s with his dad now, no longer just on weekends, and how different the two of you act when you’re together. even though you’ve always tried to shield him from conflicts and kept conversations civil when he was around, children have an uncanny ability to sense when something is wrong. 

he’s witnessed the subtle drift between you and gojo– the distance, the unspoken tensions, and the emotional coolness between you two. but now, as you and gojo rekindle your relationship, haru can sense the change. he sees the smiles that come more easily, the laughter that fills the spaces once occupied by silence, and the small gestures of affection that you both share.

“daddy,” haru calls out, his voice rising above the clatter and hum of the kitchen.

“yes, precious” gojo says, he gives haru his attention while staying focused on the mashed potatoes. haru’s little face peeks up from his coloring, his eyes bright with curiosity. 

“are you and mommy happy?” haru asks curiously.

the hum of the refrigerator and the soft sizzling of the chicken in the pan become almost exaggerated in the quiet that follows. gojo's hands pause mid-mash, his gaze shifting to haru’s expectant eyes before landing on you. 

you freeze, your fingers gripping the spatula you’re using. for a few seconds, time seems to slow down as you and gojo exchange a look, trying to gauge how to respond. there’s a flicker of hesitation in his gaze.

you can feel the weight of haru's words pressing down on you, making your breath catch slightly. you know haru is a smart boy and catches on quickly, but you didn’t expect him to ask something like that. 

as things progressed between you and satoru, you both knew it was important to be honest with haru about where your relationship is heading. he’s young, but perceptive, and you didn’t want to keep him in the dark. you had planned to bring up the conversation soon, but now the moment is here and you can’t shy away from it. 

your mind races, trying to find the right words to address such a simple yet profound question. there’s an uncertainty of how to answer—how to reassure your son without overcomplicating things for him. 

as you look at gojo in the silence that has settled between you, the question lingers in your mind: are we happy?

your thoughts drift back to the complexities, challenges, setbacks and small victories that have marked your journey. the relationship you’ve been rebuilding with gojo has been far from straightforward. at first, it was uncertain, stressful, and filled with emotional turmoil. but now, there’s a sense of peace, a feeling that you’re in a good place, even if it’s still fragile.

despite the progress, doubt continues to swirl in your mind. am i happy, or just going through the motions? 

am i happy that i’m in a relationship that once failed so tragically before? the pain of that past failure still echoes within you, a reminder of the deep scars that time and effort have tried to heal.

am i happy that we still live separately? the physical distance between you and gojo is both a comfort and a reminder that things are not yet fully mended. there’s safety in that space, but also a lingering uncertainty about when, or if, that gap will ever truly close.

am i happy that there are still boundaries we haven’t crossed yet since reconnecting? these boundaries, carefully constructed and maintained, serve as both protection and limitation. they’re necessary, but they also keep you from fully embracing the relationship in the way you might have once hoped.

you feel a mix of emotions—gratitude for the progress, anxiety about the future, and a cautious hope that happiness might still be achievable. you’re not entirely sure if you’re truly happy or if you’re simply holding on to the idea of what could be. 

you never officially put a title on what’s happening between you and gojo. yes, technically you’re still legally married, but there’s a lingering uncertainty that neither of you has brought up. it’s as if you’re dating each other again, navigating the relationship as if it’s brand new, despite the years of history between you.

this situation feels confusing, too confusing to fit into a neatly packaged box. the lines between past and present blur, leaving you unsure of where you stand or what the future holds. you’re treading carefully, aware that defining things too quickly could disrupt the fragile balance you’ve both worked so hard to maintain. but it leaves you wondering—how long can you continue like this, and is it enough?

gojo's mind mirrors your own turmoil. the recent weeks have been good—great, even—but neither of you have had a deep conversation like this in a long time. he feels a pang of guilt, almost selfish for not directly asking how you’ve been feeling, for assuming that you both were on the same page. the thought weighs heavily on his mind: is she happy?

gojo reflects on the recent changes, the shared effort both of you have put into healing and moving forward. the road has been anything but smooth, marked by ups and downs, yet there have been moments of joy and reconnection that have rekindled something between you. 

but even as he holds on to those positive memories, he worries about what you’re truly feeling beneath the surface. he wonders if all the effort to rebuild, to create a sense of normalcy and happiness, is really translating into what you need. 

in his heart, he hopes that he’s been proving himself to you, showing through his actions that he’s committed to making things right. he’d never ask you to forget about the past—it’s part of your story, after all—but he holds on to the hope that one day, all of this will be behind you both. 

gojo’s heart aches with the desire to be the man you need, to ensure that your happiness isn’t just an illusion, a facade covering unresolved pain. he knows he can’t rush you, can’t force answers, but the uncertainty gnaws at him. he’s always been the strong one, the one who kept it together, but now he feels the weight of the situation, the delicate balance between you, and he anxiously wonders if he’s doing enough.

his usual confident demeanor fades, replaced by a vulnerable sincerity. it's not often that gojo allows himself to be this open, but he can’t hide it at the moment. his gaze drops to haru, who remains blissfully unaware of the emotional exchange happening just a few feet away.

you turn the burner on low, before you make your way over to haru. gojo follows your lead, setting the pot aside and wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. he steadies himself before kneeling beside haru. his eyes meet his son’s with tenderness. 

"precious," satoru addresses him gently. "mommy and i want to talk to you about something important”. you can feel the tension in the room, not from haru but from yourself and gojo. this conversation is one you've been preparing for, knowing how much haru's happiness means to both of you.

gojo reaches out to hold haru’s tiny hand in his. "you know how much we love you, right? and how we've always been a team, no matter what?”.

haru’s small fingers curl around gojo’s hand, the trust in his eyes unmistakable as he nods slowly, a sign that he understands.

you take haru’s other hand, your thumb gently brushing over his knuckles as you offer him a reassuring smile. “and you know how daddy and i have been spending more time together lately?”.

haru nods, again. “yes. we have so much fun!”.

you smile back, encouraged by his enthusiasm. “yes, we do” you agree warmly. then, with a gentle squeeze of his hand, you continue, “but we want to let you know that we’re trying to work things out between us. we’re not sure what the future will look like, but we both love you very much, and we want to do what’s best for our family”.

gojo stays close, his eyes soft as he watches haru process your words. the sincerity in your voice, the care with which you choose your words, reflects the deep love you both have for your son. haru’s happiness is the priority, and even though the road ahead is uncertain, you’re committed to navigating it together as a family.

“are you happy?” gojo asks haru,his voice gentle but laced with genuine concern. he wishes he had asked haru about his feelings earlier.

haru nods without hesitation. “yes, daddy.” his innocent smile is filled with a simple joy that tugs at your heart. he doesn’t fully grasp the weight of the conversation like you and gojo do—his happiness is rooted in having both of his parents together after half a year of co-parenting. his understanding is pure, unburdened by the complexities that cloud your minds. but that’s okay. for now, his happiness, however simple, is enough.

gojo’s expression softens as he looks at haru, realizing that, while the depth of the situation is lost on him, the love and warmth he feels are not. it’s a reminder that, no matter what, you’re both doing something right.

the simplicity of haru’s answer brings a wave of relief to both you and gojo. haru’s happiness and reassurance are vital, and hearing him express contentment, even in his own uncomplicated way, provides a sense of comfort amidst the ongoing adjustments.

gojo relaxes his grip on haru’s hand, turning it into a tender, affectionate squeeze. “that’s good to hear,” he says softly, his voice filled with warmth. “we’re glad you’re happy.”

you rub his knuckles. “and we’re going to keep working to make sure it stays that way,” you promise him, your voice soft but firm with determination.

before you can say anything more, haru surprises you both by wrapping his small arms around each of you in a tight hug. “i love you, mommy and daddy”.

you and satoru exchange a look over haru’s head, both of you feeling the same wave of emotion swell in your chest. in this embrace, you’re reminded of the true reason behind all your efforts to mend your relationship—the love you share, not just for each other, but for the family you’ve built together. this love, so pure and unwavering, is what keeps you going, what makes every challenge worth facing. it’s a powerful reminder of what’s at stake, and why you both continue to push forward, despite the uncertainties

—

gojo returns from putting haru to bed when the question haru had asked earlier continues to linger in the air, as if it were just waiting to be fully addressed. dinner and your movie night had been filled with awkward, almost nervous glances exchanged between you, neither of you wanting to be the first to break the tension.

now, you find yourself sitting on the couch, lost in thought. gojo sits across from you, his expression pensive, clearly wrestling with the same question that has been weighing on your mind. his eyes, usually so bright and confident, are clouded with contemplation.

you take a deep breath, the silence becoming too much to bear, and finally ask the question that’s been gnawing at you all evening. “are we happy?” the words leave your lips with a directness that surprises even you. there’s a noticeable vulnerability in your voice, a rawness that you can’t hide.

gojo’s eyes soften as he looks at you, the weight of your question reflected in his gaze. he doesn’t answer immediately, carefully considering how to respond. 

when he finally speaks, his voice is gentle, filled with an earnestness that matches the seriousness of your question. “i’ve been wondering the same thing” he admits quietly. “i want to say yes. i really do…”.

he trails off, struggling to find the right way to express the complexity of his feelings. “but it’s not that simple, is it?” he finally says, his voice tinged with a sadness that mirrors your own thoughts. 

you shake your head. “there’s so much we haven’t talked about, so much we’re still figuring out. i know we’re making progress, but i’m not sure if ‘happy’ is the right word” you admit. 

he reaches out, his hand hovering between you as if he’s unsure whether you want the comfort of his touch. “what about you? are you happy?”.

you sigh, feeling the weight of everything that has passed between you two. “it’s been nice spending time with you. but we never put a label on whatever this is. we’re together, but not. a family, but still separated. it’s all a bit confusing”. 

you feel a swell of emotion rise in your chest. “i want to be happy,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “i want us to be happy together, but i’m also trying to figure out what that really looks like now”.

gojo’s hand gently covers yours, the comforting warmth of his touch grounding you. his gaze is soft, filled with a sincerity that cuts through the confusion. “we don’t have to label anything,” he says, his voice steady. “there’s too much pressure with labels. i care more about how you feel. haru’s happiness means everything to me, and so does yours”.

the idea of not having to label anything is both comforting and unsettling. on one hand, it takes away the pressure of defining what you have, allowing you both to move at a pace that feels right. on the other hand, it leaves things open-ended, and that uncertainty is something you've struggled with before.

as you sit there, your thoughts drift to everything that’s led to this moment—the ups and downs, the distance that once felt insurmountable, and the slow, careful steps you've both taken to find your way back to each other. his focus on your happiness, on haru’s happiness, means a lot to you. 

gojo watches you with that familiar intensity, as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. there’s a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that you don’t often see. you realize that he’s just as unsure as you are, that he’s feeling his way through this just as carefully, just as cautiously.

it’s not a definitive answer, but it’s a start—a shared understanding that happiness is something you’re both willing to work towards, together. your relationship, though imperfect, is real. it’s grounded in a genuine commitment to each other and to haru, and that’s something worth nurturing. the journey ahead may be complex, but tonight, you both find solace in the shared commitment to making it work. and that’s enough for now.

---

ch 10>>

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[corviiids]

If possible, could you talk about your favorite lines from either telltale or call me by? Or just about the little bits and pieces behind either in general? Because I'd love to hear about it! :D

[No pressure though! Feel free to ignore this ask if it bothers you ^^;]

you are VERY kind thank you so much. people taking the time to ask me about my words is never a bother i am very honoured!!!

from telltale - a few random ones:

The amount of agency he has during these dreams fluctuates, but the awareness is—more frustratingly—pretty stagnant: it's there, oh yes, but it's there in the way your keys are there when you've dropped them in the drain.

pretty straightforward line but i like finding fun ways to describe the unique weirdness of dreams. the idea of reality being very visible to you but frustratingly out of reach is just fun to me

“What normally happens when you're feeling guilty about something?” L finally swivels to eye him. “I already told you that you can have it,” he says. “If you're feeling guilty, just go buy me more right now.” “That's not what I meant,” says Light. Then: “Is that why you offered it to me? So I'd feel bad and buy you more?”

L and light's dream interactions were super fun to write, because of this need to balance light's ordinary sharpness and focus with the fact that he's in a dream and that your agency in dreams wavers. so he keeps buying into these misdirecting bits of dialogue from L even if he's not strictly falling for them. also, funawa propaganda (pastry shop in jp) it got mentioned in L change the world and rightly so because the youkan and sweet potato cheese puffs literally haunt me every day i miss them so fucking much

“I didn't think so,” says L, nodding with some solemnity. “Domestic life, it's more a matter of going through the motions, isn't it?”

me trying desperately to force my agenda that lawlight aren't really in love per se and that the domesticity is sort of a function of something else, no less intimate, but not traditionally romantic. i just think they're so interesting when they're not "dating" but they are, like, eternal soulmates obsessed with each other forever. in the same vein:

“Do I love you?” Light asks. “It doesn't really matter to me,” says L. “Do you love me?” “That doesn't really matter to me, either,” says L.

ok last one

Light knows the layout of the apartment he shares with L by heart. So well, in fact, that when he falls out of bed in the middle of the night to stumble gagging to the bathroom, he'll smack into the east wall feeling for a door that isn't there.

MAN i just really like playing with dreams that fuck you up so bad they bleed into reality. i have nothing deep to say about this i just like fucking with light yagami and ruining his life

ok heres some from call me by im putting them under the cut

i think my favourite recurring idea is light's thing about friendship and loneliness:

I don't mind talking to my classmates, but feeling lonely isn't just about having people around you. Well, how do I put it? I guess talking to them doesn't make me feel less lonely.

light is a very isolated character to me. this is a pretty simple line but it happens surprisingly early on for being a fairly vulnerable confession, given how guarded light is. i think the unique situation of the bodyswap makes L a more intimate confidant. anyway later in the fic L says he considers light a friend

at this point in time, i already consider asahi-kun a friend. . Really? Okay. Then I'm glad you're my friend. :)

after that, light repeats the point a couple more times

I can't let you die. You're my friend. [...] You’re my friend.

i know these aren't like poetic lines or anything lol but i am fond of them because i like the idea of light, like... getting permission to consider L a friend and then kinda labouring the point after that, worried about L but also just like "wow! i have a friend!"

[warball-boyz]

As Brief an Introduction to Warball as I can Possibly Attempt.

Below the cut, of course.

Warball.

The most popular sport on the dodecahedron*, Warball has an ancient history.

It is believed that Warball started in the days of ancient tribes, in celebration of hunts that brought down ancient and mysterious beasts. Part of those celebrations included a massive brawl over the slain creature's heart. Often neighbouring tribes and villages would also travel for these great feasts and brawls, and over time it became a proper sport...

...as proper as a sport could get when the earliest record of a rulebook discovered by scholars (dated c. 640s, Year of the Second Moon) simply says:

Get ball to other side of field to score. Most Gets wins.

Of course with such straightforward rules, everyone thought that meant the game would be nice and simple. Problem was, each race and tribe and nation liked to play warball a little differently than everyone else. So whenever a game was to be played, the teams had to meet beforehand and discuss such things as how big the field was, how many players were allowed on the field, what kinds of tackles and blocks were legal, could the referees be bribed, whether or not weapons would be allowed, could the ball be moved forward by kicking, throwing, head-butting, or via catapult (the dwarves were very upset with the goblins over that one); and of course whether or not the losing team should be sacrificed and/or eaten in the post-game.

Naturally the teams themselves didn't much like these pregame discussions, which usually led to brawls almost as big as those on the field itself, so over time the unsavoury character of the Manager was created, or more accurately, created itself. Any mercenary individual who could politick a little would gladly take a sack of copper from a team of sweaty, angry warball players and sit with another similarly cutthroat individual representing the other team and argue and chat and bribe each other in various ways, eventually returning to their respective team with a gingivitis smile to let them know of the arrangements, and carefully dodge the thrown implements that inevitably came when it was revealed that, in fact, you could not take your opponent's teeth to make a necklace for your spouse.

These Managers, as universally disliked as they are, did a great deal for the infant sport of Warball, and made great efforts to codify much of the game, usually adding rules that seemed to come up a lot in those pregame meetings so they wouldn't have to discuss them for the thirty-second time. This gradually led to the development of the Second Edition Rulebook, a tome of roughly 284 pages, full of rules, exceptions to those rules, exceptions to those exceptions, and a few unexcepable rules**.

Once the effigies of the Managers were put out and the teams ended their strike in protest of the 2nd Ed., they found the rules lore helpful than anyone wanted to admit, and even agreed to start playing in organized Leagues. Another beautiful idea by the Managers, the idea of Leagues had less effigies burnt, mostly because now everyone could see their favourite group of brutal skull-crushing maniacs*** on a regular schedule, and be playing (more accurately, fighting) somebody different almost every time, and (this next but was deemed most important to the Managers) buy overpriced and poor quality sausages, beers, thinly sliced fried potatoes with too much salt, and flattened cornmeal with suspiciously liquid cheese, along with cheaply made sweaters and other things emblazoned with the team logos. The Managers knew their target: the average man, someone named Olick or Harg, who just wanted a good time on their day off, have some food and drinks with their friends, and watch some violence with a straw-stuffed animal bladder bouncing around in there somewhere.

Such is the history of Warball.

*(no one actually knows what shape the world is, so the philosophers decided to pick the one shape no one seemed to believe in. They also found it the funniest shape to imagine the world in)

**(namely that a Get was worth 3 points, and the scoring team could try to follow it up with a 1-point goal kick, or a 2-point running play into the goal area. This one rule was the result of nearly three years of arguments and a gathering of Managers that made a holy synod look like an overfull bird bath)

***(those fans that always manage to sit right behind the goal area)

[happymetalgirl]

Undeath - More Insane

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

Well in the spirit of dusting off this blog and scrubbing off some of the rust with some brief album reviewing, what better way to ease back in than with some simple, good ol' meat & potatoes death metal. This is the third album from old school Floridian death metal revivalists (from New York), Undeath!

Their 2020 debut album, Lesions of a Different Kind, instantly hooked a great many death-metalheads clearly hungry for the primal, groove-focused, hardcore-influenced stew of gory, straightforward death metal that Undeath was cooking, myself included. Though a subtle feature of their craft, I think the band's hardcore influence is what ultimately gave them the edge over the surrounding death metal crop with the dynamic punch of hardcore, and the surge of bands with similar influence like Frozen Soul, Gatecreeper, Sanguisugabogg, and 200 Stab Wounds represented, I think, a shift in the death metal landscape toward leaning into allyship with the meteoric rise of metallic hardcore thanks to bands like Code Orange, Harms Way, Kublai Khan, and especially Knocked Loose. Undeath's sophomore effort in 2022, It's Time...To Rise from the Grave, deviated basically not at all from the mission statement they'd put out two years prior, in style or quality, to the dismay of no one really.

More Insane finally does show a change of trajectory for Undeath as they showcase some technicality and finesse through some slightly more sophisticated composition as a break from the infectiously filthy, nonstop go-dumb approach. Nothing radical, but I think a fresh approach for the band relatively speaking, even if Cannibal Corpse worship or Bloodbath worship aren't exactly new in the death metal landscape broadly.

I actually was kind of disappointed by this album's playing into those over-played death metal compositional tropes on my initial listens to it because the shift of focus onto more intricate guitar passages and more ornate song structures does indeed kind of clash with the simple, no-nonsense, anti-overthinking approach that made Undeath's hooky and delicious pair of albums before More Insane such a breath of fresh air for death metal. And it was disappointing to hear what I first heard as being dragged into the muck of death metal by the mere gravitational pull of it simply to keep on schedule and put out an album. The more I listened, however, without the expectation of the same jungle-pit-opening death metal experience the band already kindly delivered twice, the more I came to appreciate the finer details of the arpeggiated melodic leads on "Sutured for War", the ripping speed of the drumming on "Cramped Caskets", the intricacy of the riffing on "Disattachment of a Prophylactic in the Brain", Alexander Jones' more expansive vocal technical prowess all across the album, and the more I came to appreciate More Insane as a finely crafted death metal album in a slightly different vein that showcases the instrumental talents Undeath has to offer without sacrificing too much of the hooky, meaty core of the band's primary compositional appeal, and definitely one of the year's most solid death metal records from a band who has, through both their consistency and boldness, definitely earned being trusted to try something different and to expand their sound in the future.

The strength of More Insane lies less in the brute force and hardcore-infused muscularity of their prior output and more in the band's practiced and meticulously honed technical abilities in death metal's foundational elements both in writing and playing. And with less of a lean-in to the novelty of the hardcore influence that colored the previous two albums, Undeath prove that they're not on top of the death metal game because of a gimmick or a trend, but because they know their shit, and they've got their shit together, and in that sense, More Insane is an even simpler display of their death metal supremacy than It's Time and Lesions.

8/10

[lurinatftbn]

If you’re down to answer another question like the music one, what are the characters’ favorite in-universe cuisines/culinary preferences? Or, are there any fun reasons why some characters like/dislike certain things as we see in the glossary?

Off the top of my head:

Utsu dislikes fish because it's ubiquitous in Itan cuisine and had a lot of it served to her poorly-prepared as a kid. I think it comes up in the text at some point, but her favorite food is layered pasta dishes like lasagna. (I know what you're thinking, and no, I didn't do it on purpose.)

Kam is a vegan, but obviously only for health reasons since they don't slaughter animals for meat in the setting. She likes very spicy food like chilis and curry - her favorite is stuffed jalapenos. She also likes crepes.

Ran also kinda likes spicy food, but isn't super passionate about cuisine and mostly just goes for low-effort stuff. She eats a lot of stir fry and dumplings.

Theo also worries about his longer-term health which is why he's on a low-carb diet, but renders this pointless by eating tons of chocolate and sweets all the time. He likes hot fudge cakes the best.

Ptolema just really likes meat. Her favorite is just a really well-seasoned blue steak, probably with blue cheese, and she also probably really enjoys whatever the equivalent of brazilian barbecue is.

I don't think I ever decided what foods Seth likes best except that he eats a lot of junk food. I do remember deciding at some point that he really likes almonds despite being allergic to them.

Ophelia is a pescetarian for cultural reasons. Beyond that, she loves trying all sorts of foods, though shellfish and mushrooms are her favorite ingredients.

Lilith is a hyper-picky eater and doesn't like most vegetables or anything too complicated or mixed together. She probably most enjoys very simple things like chicken nuggets, and only takes small bites so she isn't overwhelmed.

As comes up in the story, Bardiya is a recovering alcoholic, which is the reason for his preference note. I think I put somewhere that kebabs are his favorite food.

Ezekiel dislikes onions because of their slimy and crunchy texture. He likes really straightforward food like Sunday roasts, which in-setting would mean he prefers Rhunbardic cuisine, though he'd never admit it.

Fang will eat anything under the sun, but also doesn't care that much about food in the grand scheme of things. Left to their own devices, they will cook everything into some kind of omelette and think it's great.

Linos doesn't like shellfish because, like Su, he ate a lot of it prepared badly when he was young. He enjoys participating in prestige/fine dining, especially for Ysaran and Viraaki food, more for the sense of being part of a cultural moment than the actual flavor.

Neferuaten likes foods like beyaynetu (or, like, pizza) designed specifically to be eaten communally. On her own she mostly just eats salad, though she has extremely specific opinions about wine and whiskey.

Durvasa likes to grow and preserve his own food, and his favorite is dal soup. He also has extremely specific opinions, though only about whiskey. He doesn't like red meat because he dislikes the idea that he's eating the flesh of a one-living being, even if it's replicated.

Zeno technically does not have a diet, and is sustained nutritionally by other means. He enjoys the taste of very indulgent foods like foie gras and controversial food like cultured human meat. He thinks Viraaki food is 'stinky' and 'greasy'.

Hamilcar does not eat except with company, which is why his entry says N/A. He can't taste food in the way he could when he was young, and he finds it upsetting.

Anna enjoys sushi, but is too old to eat much at all.

Mehit theoretically likes the kind of high-concept Saoic cuisine described by Ran early in the story, but is not a very good cook, so mostly eats things like baked potatoes and fried rice. This is partly why Lilith is the way she is, but only like, 20%.

Balthazar skips breakfast because otherwise he ends up overeating, since he's the type who can just keep going long beyond what's healthy. He's the sort of person who enjoys bizarre high-calorie flavors like fried squid dipped in ice cream.

[agentnico]

Top 10 BEST Movies of 2023

Happy New Year everyone! Hope you all partied hard and are now surviving a dreadful hangover by sitting with your family or friends and enjoying a well deserved marathon of Lord of the Rings. 2023 - what a year! In the movie biz alone there were those little minor events known as the strikes of the actors and writers. Just when we thought COVID was over and stopped affecting releases, these strikes were like “errr no, actually..!”. To be fair, the way the streaming services were underpaying their actors and the studios enforcing AI so much into the media, it was good that these artists stood up for themselves and showed it to the man so to speak! Anyway, we’re not here to talk Hollywood politics, but to celebrate all the quality filmmaking that was exhibited this past year. I’d say in all honesty this year felt weaker compared to 2022. To be fair last year gave us Everything Everywhere All at Once, Top Gun: Maverick and of course the legendary RRR, so the bar was high for 2023. That being said, I still enjoyed some solid films, so let’s rank my Top 10 favourite movies of 2023, but first some honourable mentions…

HONOURABLE MENTIONS:

Evil Dead Rise - one heck of a gore fest, and the best opening title card of the year hands down!

Past Lives - a simple yet brutally honest love story.

The Boy and the Heron - Wanna hear Robert Pattinson sound like not Robert Pattinson?!

Guy Richie’s The Covenant - The least Guy Ritchie film Guy Ritchie directed.

The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar - Wes Anderson and Roald Dahl are a match made in heaven.

Barbie - I’m Just Ken…need I say more??

Wonka - Timmy makes for a good Willy.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 - A solid Marvel entry - a rarity these days.

Tetris - Gosh those tetrominos really get ya!

Right, with that, let’s get into the actual fun stuff - The Top 10 Best Movies of 2023!…

10) MISSION IMPOSSIBLE: DEAD RECKONING - PART ONE - Tom Cruise - what a guy! I mean yes he’s a Scientologist, has a constant death wish by breaking his ankles on film sets and also guilty of jumping on Oprah’s sofa like a monkey, but my my is he a charmer! You guys know the drill with these Mission Impossible movies - Tom Cruise throws his body around like a potato fearing not for his life nor broken limbs, but you have to respect the man for wanting to give the audience their tickets’ worth of entertainment, and Dead Reckoning not disappoint! There’s never a dull moment, the action is constantly inventive and exciting, and honestly with how consistent the quality of these films are, I say keep ‘em coming, Cruise-man!

9) DREAM SCENARIO - Anyone who knows me knows how much I love me some Nicolas Cage! The guy’s an acting legend, and he’s had it rough a decade ago when he got stuck paying off hi tax money and starring in crappy B-movies, but recently he’s been on a hot streak of great original content, and Dream Scenario adds to that. I love this idea of a random dude suddenly appearing in people’s dreams for absolutely no reason. It’s so rare to have a new original conception in a film in our day and age, and the execution here is great. As a bonus, the movie features possibly the best fart joke in the history of the cinema.

8) FALLEN LEAVES - This features the deadest karaoke ever - the Finns sure know how to party!! Also bonus points for featuring an out-of-left-field reference to Jim Jarmusch’s zombie flick The Dead Don’t Die, which by no means is a great film, but the fact that the director of Fallen Leaves knows about such obscure pieces of cinema only reiterates the fact that he gets cinema. Which in this case is a straightforward romantic love story, but one that I instantly connected with. Reminded me of Compartment No. 6.

7) OPPENHEIMER - On one had this is probably the most “well-made” movie of 2023 cinematically speaking. Christopher Nolan does not hold back in using his typical non-linear way of storytelling, with the film weaving narratives and different time periods seamlessly as it explores the profound depths of a man who’s actions altered the world’s trajectory forever, for better or worse. It’s an incredible historical piece of cinema, and the movie gets extra points for the whole ‘Barbenheimer’ phenomenon, but the reason this film is not higher on the list is due to the fact that I believe it is overrated. Cause every single person raved about how bloody amazing this thing was, I became tired of the positivity. Yeah, I know, I’m being a Scrooge but what you gonna do about it?? Oppenheimer is stuck at No. 5!

6) ROBOT DREAMS - I’m sorry to go vulgar on this occasion, but my-my was I shipping this dog and it’s robot to absolutely fudge each others brains out!! Yet the movie happens to do the funny thing of being the biggest cockblock ever….. and that’s the best thing it could have done. Simplistic cartoon-network style animation made beautiful by an earnest story, accompanied by the delightful sounds of Earth, Wind & Fire.

5) KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON - When a movie forces you to stay in the cinema for over 3 hours, it better be one epic film, as your man here was straining his bladder to health threatening levels. However this is a Martin Scorsese picture, as such this is event cinema! And this one may be up there with one of his best. Killers of the Flower Moon is a major saga of greed, murder, corruption and despair, told through the eyes of a filmmaker who somehow is still managing to mature more as a director even though he’s already over 80 years of age.

4) THE HOLDOVERS - The Holdovers is very much a vibes movie. It has that old-timey retro feel to it from how it is shot to make it look like it’s from the 70s (reminiscent of John Hughes films and Dead Poets Society). You also have the constant snow falling and the Christmas music just really delivers that cozy winter feel. It’s a wholesome Christmas movie through and through. Paul Giamatti gives a career-best performance and the writing is absolutely stellar, as such The Holdovers is destined to become a holiday classic.

3) BEAU IS AFRAID - A 3-hour long anxiety attack that A24 spent $30 million to produce. For a movie studio to spill out such a massive amount of cash on a completely original IP that is divisively out-there and wild is such a unique thing to happen in Hollywood in this day and age, that like the film or not this act needs to be applauded. It just so happens that Beau Is Afraid is batshit bonkers and truly an act of madness, yet one that I will forever cherish. I bet David Lynch had the biggest hard-on when he watched this movie - you betcha!

2) PERFECT DAYS - Essentially plays out like a live-action remake of WALL-E from the director of Paris, Texas. Honestly this is such a sweet and delightful film about a toilet cleaner doing his thang, and somehow inspired me to want to clean toilets myself. A beautiful piece of independent cinema that appreciates the little things, and truly embraces the ideology of stopping to smell the roses.

1) SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE - Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is, put simply, brilliant! It’s everything that made Into the Spider-Verse great dialled up to 1000%, and the result is honestly fantastic. Look, I watch a lot of movies. And yeah, movies are great and I love them deeply. But in watching so many films I have in a way lost that magic of being in awe every time I go to the cinema. Cliches and repetitiveness in films stick out like sore thumbs. However with Across the Spider-Verse I felt like a kid again, purely stunned in amazement at every single frame, engaged with the characters and story-line, not knowing where it will go next. Like I cannot reiterate how much fun I had watching this movie! The animation is phenomenal, the narrative so rich, a pulse-throbbing music score (I even have Pemberton’s score on vinyl now just cause I love it so much!) superb character development and so many fun and unexpected twists and turns. Across the Spider-Verse is THE movie of 2023 for me and I believe this is the first time ever an animation took a top spot on my list. Here’s hoping Part 3 of the Spider-Verse saga will play out like The Return of the King!

There you have it - my favourite films of 2023. Naturally I don’t expect my list to be the same as yours, so don’t go throwing a tantrum if I missed out a movie you loved. Or do throw a tantrum, see if I care. But also don’t, cause like we’re all friends here, right? Right??!

[if-only-angels-could-prevail]

In starting production, the musical team was interested in keeping the sound of the original (but scored for a smaller orchestra) and, at the same time, in adding elements of traditional folk music. When I looked at the original, however, I was concerned because the orchestration was VERY 'meat and potatoes'... that is, very straightforward, almost nothing in the way of countermelodies or texture. Basically the original orchestration doubled the melody A LOT and left the rest of the orchestra to do "oom pah pah" accompaniment figures. It was a style that, with a million strings, would sound simple but very lush, but in our orchestra (of 7 strings on opening, cut down to a string quartet as the production went along) would not be very interesting AT ALL. So I asked (and received) permission to do whatever I wanted, so long as it still sounded like The Sound of Music to an audience member. I think the result was quite successful in that it's often very, very different from the original (LOTS of countermelodies, lots of moving horn lines, etc), yet not stylistically jarring in any way. And by using recorders, handbells, tuba, a zither and other folk instruments, I was able to capture the authentic Austrian folk music quality the director was after.

-Bruce Coughlin (orchestrator of the 1998 revival)

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

We Are More Than the Choices We Made - Chapter One Pulled From the Web...

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Clint Barton made a different call. Distrustful and suspicious of the people around her, Natasha begins to find herself settling into the Avengers team despeite herself, largely due to the influence of a highly persistent archer. But nothing in the Avengers' lives is ever simple and straightforward, and Loki is coming.

Or: Natasha finds a sanctuary, and Loki burns it down.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 3415

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (M) Distrust, automatic self-injury, trauma mentions, punishment mentions, implied eating disorder, implied abuse, attempted sex as payment/gratitude.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. Check it out below, or on AO3 here!

The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own!

- ‘Humiliation’ – @anyfandomgoesbingo (Kink); - ‘Non Consent’ – Any Fandom Goes Bingo (Dark); - ‘Organ Theft’ – @badthingshappenbingo; - ‘Bow and/or Shield’, ‘Bucky Barnes and/or Natasha Romanov’, ‘SHIELD and/or Carson’s Carnival’, ‘Solo and/or Team’, ‘Spy and/or Assassin’, ‘Vigilante and/or Agent’ – Clint Barton Celebration Bingo; - ‘Forced Surgery’ – @fandom-free-bingo (Flight); - ‘Made a Different Call’ – @hawkeyebingo; - ‘Found Family’, ‘The Friends Stage’ – @julybreakbingo (6x6); - ‘Bleeding Through Bandages or Arm in a Sling’, ‘Broken Rib(s) or Bludgeoned’, ‘Hiding or Invisible’, “What’s Wrong With You?” – July Break Bingo (7x7); - ‘Unwilling’, “Are You Really Just Gonna Walk Away?”  – July Break Bingo (Flash); - ‘Refusal’ – July Break Bingo (Mini);

I didn’t trust these people.

They clustered together, far too close, smiles too wide and voices too loud.

They are faking… Aren’t they? Nobody cares for each other this much – not really.

It had been several years since I’d be exposed to the façade of the perfect American family, but it seemed little had changed in my absence. They sill sat around the table together, pouring over shared dishes and laughing in unison, just as I was trained to do.

Automatically, I reached out, filling a serving spoon with salad and adding my own forced chuckles to the cacophony.

I knew I’d fucked up when every set of eyes around the table turned to me, and I winced instinctively, hand snaking up to wrap around my skinny bicep, fingernails carving chasms into the soft flesh hidden from view.

It took a few heartbeats for the group to look away – a few pounding, miserable heartbeats that made my stomach churn. Only the purple-clad archer kept his eyes on me, boring into the side of my head and making my skin prickle uncomfortably. “What?” I snapped eventually, not looking up as I speared a piece of cucumber violently on my fork, chewing 1234567 and swallowing without tasting.

“You don’t have to do that,” he replied eventually, his voice low. My gaze flicked to him at last, and he offered me a soft smile. “Put on a show, you know? You can be yourself here. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

I felt my expression flicker, surprised by my apparent transparency, before I arched an eyebrow coldly, inclining my head toward the animated gathering. “You think this isn’t pretending?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “The whole world’s a stage, after all…”

He looked around slowly, a soft smile tugging at his lips, a curious look on his face. “No… No, I think this is just about the only time that they’re not pretending. This is the only place we can be ourselves, away from the eyes of the world,” he replied quietly as he glanced back to me. “You’ll learn to relax in time, Natasha. You’re safe here.”

My eyes lowered, flitting between plates piles high with pasta and bread and buttered potatoes, and my own meagre salad.

No. No, I don’t think I am.

He’d been sent after me on a mission, handed down by SHIELD. He was supposed to kill me – eliminate the threat. He made a different call when he found me – a skinny rat of a girl that he felt pity for.

I had my own mission, too. Eliminate the threat.

But the opportunity for escape presented itself. The opportunity for freedom, for surcease from pain and torture.

The first thing that happened to me, after a flurry of talks and paperwork and being forced to make promises of good behaviour, was an examination. The dark-haired doctor, Banner, had a gentler touch than I was used to, fingertips light as he probed my bruised and broken ribs. I didn’t flinch as he felt his way along my fractures, giving nothing away, and his eyes flickered an ominous green as they shifted to mine.

He'd ssat me down afterwards, running through the list of things he’d deemed wrong with me. Along with a litany of scars and bruises, he held up x-rays that showed my entire body, pointing out old fractures that never healed right.

“Most of these don’t pose a significant problem, but I’m concerned about this wrist.” He gestured to the bones of my left arm, a ragged and poorly-fused line across the end of my radius dark in the brightness. “It must be painful, and that’s not to speak of the mechanical limitations.”

I’d winced and looked away, fingers curling around the permanently-aching joint beneath his desk. “It’s fine,” I lied, voice flat and emotionless.

“Well, either way – even if it doesn’t cause problems now, it certainly will later. I’d like to put you under so I can-”

“No,” I interrupted, a snarl creeping into my tone, eyes narrowing with suspicion. I’ve only been here for five minutes, and they think I’m stupid enough to let them perform surgery on me? My eyes closed briefly, flashes of blood and pain passing before my lids, and I swallowed hard before meeting his gaze once more. “No. No surgery.”

He’d simply watched me in silence for a moment, making a note on my chart. “… You know it’s my duty to make sure that you-”

“I’m fit for whatever mission they want to send me on,” I snapped, jaw set, arms crossed across my chest. “I’m not letting you poke around inside me, and that’s that.”

Two weeks later, and here I was, shifting through a salad while they pretended to be happy. Pretended that they weren’t just as trapped as I had been, albeit in a nicer cage. The bowman’s eyes never strayed from me, drawing lines from my sparse portion to the curve of my ribcage hidden by second-hand clothes that hung too loose on my lithe frame. I couldn’t help but draw myself up taller, crossing my legs as I leant back, letting the witch’s skirt fall higher up my thighs, and smirked internally when I saw him gulp.

I know what I am.

I’d been seducing men since my Breaking, using body and skill to lure them in before taking them out. This archer was nothing special, and I could win him over just as easily. I stretched my arms high over my head, chest pressing against the button-down I wore, letting out a soft, sensual sigh as my gaze moved to his.

“See something you like?” I purred, looking up at him through my lashes as my body relaxed. His cheeks were pink, and he seemed unsure as to where he should look, fingers flexing uncertainly against his thigh.

“You wince.”

Surprised, I blinked, recoiling a little in my shock. “I… What?”

His face had already returned to its normal hue as he gestured at my arms now folded tight across my waist. “Your wrist. The one Bruce wanted to fix. Whenever you move it, you wince.”

My mouth moved wordlessly for a moment, stunned into silence, before my expression creased into a scowl as I recovered. “What’s your point?”

“Why won’t you let him fix it?” he asked softly, turning to face me more fully, pale eyes locked on mine in a manner so encompassing I found myself unable to look away. “He just wants to help.”

I snorted, one eyebrow arching. “Sure.”

Silently, he watched me for a moment, thoughtful. “… I don’t know much about where you came from,” he started eventually, head tipped to one side. “Nobody does. There’s rumours, but nothing concrete. But I have a faint idea of the sort of things you’ve been through, and I’m not surprised you don’t trust us. I hope you will, in time. We really do just want to help you.”

“Why?” I pressed, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Why do you care? You don’t know me. You don’t owe me anything.”

His brow creased in surprise. “You don’t have to matter to us on a personal level for us to want to help you, Natasha. You matter. You’re a person, and you deserve not to be in pain.” He offered me a soft smile, and I looked away from the pity in his eyes.

“… Fine,” I agreed at length, returning to stabbing my lunch vehemently, anger bubbling in my veins for reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

It was in this way that I found myself sat on the edge of a medical bed in a gown that made me feel humiliatingly exposed.

“You’re not going to steal my kidneys or anything, are you?” I teased, my voice just a little too terse, treacherously betraying my anxieties.

Bruce’s eyes raised from where he was drawing on my arm, hazel gaze steady and warm. “I won’t make a single movement you haven’t agreed to.”

I nodded stiffly, watching through narrowed eyes as he continued his dotted lines. “… Why are you all like this?” I asked, the words coming soft and quiet despite myself.

He paused once more, but didn’t look up this time, contemplating the question silently. “… We have all done some terrible things,” he murmured after a moment, the hands on my skin gentle. “I suppose one could argue it’s penance. We help to heal the damage we’ve done.”

“What if there’s been too much?” I pressed. “What if I’ve hurt more people than I could ever save?”

“I don’t think that’s true of anyone,” he offered, tipping his head up to meet my gaze once more, the sincerity in his eyes startling me. “I need to believe it isn’t – or else more than one of us is irredeemable.”

I considered him for a moment – this kind, mild-mannered doctor carefully probing at my arm and determined to make me feel as safe as possible – then shook my head once. “I can’t imagine anything you’ve done could even come close to-”

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

It wasn’t delivered as a threat, or arrogance; there was a degree of sadness to his tone that hit me square in the chest, breath catching as I shook my head. “No, I… I guess not.”

“I’m only Bruce to those who know me. The media tends to refer to me by a different name.” His eyes lowered, shameful but resigned. “Most people have only heard of the Hulk.”

I frowned for a moment, confused, before comprehension dawned. “The big green guy? That’s you?” I clarified incredulously, one eyebrow arching as he nodded. “But you’re… Not - I mean…”

He flashed me a weak smile, shrugging a shoulder. “I transform, in a way. It’s a long story involving a lot of quite interesting science and gamma radiation, but I’ll spare you the details. Suffice to say, I fell victim to my own hubris. And when I’m him, the green guy, I can’t… I can see it all happening, but I can’t do anything to stop it.”

Surprise flickered across my face, and I felt my own sympathetic smile form, slow and hesitant. “That sounds… Horrible,” I murmured, mind flashing through all the times my training had taken over while I screamed in the background – flashing through all the times before my training when I’d watched the people I cared about suffer, powerless to stop it. “It sounds like hell.”

He nodded once, sitting back in his seat. “It is. But doing this, just being a scientist, helping people… It goes some way to paying off my karmic debt, I think. I hope so, at least.”

My head cocked thoughtfully, assessing the man before me. “… I think so,” I agreed softly, nodding. He seemed too tortured by the things he’d done to be damned for them, after all.

It wasn’t his fault. He had no choice.

When I woke in an unfamiliar bed, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling through hazy eyes, dressed in an unfamiliar gown, my heart rate spiked and I struggled upright, my movements clumsy and sluggish. There were wires protruding from under my clothing, and a heavy cast encasing my left arm. The sight of the plaster calmed me, memories flooding back into my clouded mind. My gaze trailed along the edge of the bed and up the curve of my feet beneath the sheet, a frown creasing my forehead. I hadn’t any idea what I was searching for, only that I hadn’t found it yet.

A sound beside me startled me from my investigation, and I turned tooslownotfastenoughnotsafe, wide-eyed, toward it.

The archer was snoring in a chair beside my bed, his head back and jaw slack. My eyebrows rose in surprise, and I cleared my throat pointedly, biting back a laugh when he jerked awake. “You’re here,” I noted, my tone carefully neutral. He yawned and nodded, stretching his arms high overhead.

“Didn’t want you to wake up alone,” he grunted, pushing a hand through sleep-mussed hair. I hummed an acknowledgement, picking at the cotton appearing from the edge of the cast. My refusal to let him see how slow and lethargic I was had me sitting further upright, shaking my head to clear it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I replied, the words coming harsher than I intended, but he simply shrugged.

“I know.”

My lips parted to tell him that he was free to leave, but the sound of the door opening interrupted me, muscles tensing. I relaxed infinitesimally as the doctor stepped inside, a gentle smile crossing his face. “Welcome back, Ms. Romanoff. Surgery went well.” He moved to the end of my bed, eyes assessing my expression carefully. “It’ll take a few weeks for you to recover, and it may take a little while for your grip strength to be back up to the standard you’re used to, but you’ll get there in time – better, most likely.”

I nodded once, my eyes still on the archer. “What do I have to do?” I asked automatically, unthinkingly, and Clint frowned.

“‘Do?’”

“For this,” I clarified, raising my encased arm and the wires hooked up to me. Clint’s eyebrows dropped further, confusion flickering across his expression.

“You don’t have to do anything. We told you… We just want to help.” He spoke softly, his tone sincere, but I snorted, my inhibitions lowered by the anaesthetic still coursing through my system.

“Is that why I’m in this little gown, hm?” I probed, my voice light and innocent as I pushed back the blankets to reveal my bare legs, marred with scars as they were. “Because I don’t have to do anything?”

Clint blushed heavily, averting his eyes, but Bruce moved closer, frowning. “It- It’s standard medical procedure, Natasha. We talked before your surgery, remember? If you had any concerns, I asked you to tell me… You seemed to consent quite readily.”

“Where does consent ever come into it?” I snapped back, jaw set. “Just do what you have to do, okay? I won’t fight. I’m too tired.” My body sank willingly back against the sheets, and I closed my eyes against the silence around me, resigned to my fate.

My body has always been used for payment. At least this time it’s benefited, too.

“Natasha… Nobody’s going to… We’re not…” Bruce’s stammer trailed off with a helpless sigh, and I winced at the sound of Clint getting to his feet, muscles stiffening pre-emptively.

His hand in mine startled me, surprisingly soft and gentle, and my lids snapped open once more in surprise. “What are you-”

“We didn’t do this for any form of payment, or gratitude, or quid pro quo,” Clint interrupted quietly, azure gaze locked on mine. “We did this because you were hurting, and you shouldn’t have been. Nobody here will ever expect that from you, Nat. Never.”

I watched him in silence for a moment, eyes narrowed as I assessed his open, honest face. “They don’t?”

He shook his head firmly, glancing at Bruce, who echoed a confirmation. “See? You’re safe here.”

The lump forming in my throat was beginning to make it difficult to speak, so I simply nodded, letting him pull the sheets back up until they sat around my waist, his other hand never leaving mine.

Bruce allowed me to head back to my room – third floor, two doors down from Clint and with an empty space either side of me – late in the evening, my bare feet padding almost noiselessly on the hard tile. I still couldn’t get used to having my own space; the only time I was alone at the Academy was when I was in Isolation. It was strange to try and sleep without the breathing, snoring and sounds of pain from a dozen other girls – to not wake to sobbing from a nightmare muffled by a thin blanket that did little to keep out the chill.

They never lasted long, those girls.

Widows don’t cry.

But now I had more space than I knew what to do with – and the permission to do with it as I wished. After two weeks it still sat exactly as I’d found it, the bed made with military precision and the dishes unused, with almost no sign of life save a pillow ferreted away from a sofa downstairs and hidden under the small table.

I liked it under there. The bed was too exposed, too open – there was too much to look for and too many places to guard at once. But under the table, the four chairs, carefully positioned, could act as a barricade in three directions, providing a moment’s warning against attack.

A moment can be the difference between life and death.

No sooner had I shut the door behind me lockedboltedchainedsafenotsafeneversafe than a soft rapping sounded on the wood, making me tense.

“FRIDAY?” I called uncertainly, still unused to speaking to the bodiless entity.

“Yes?” replied the dulcet tones, intended to be soothing – but I only found it creepy and unnatural.

“Who’s at my door?”

“Agent Barton, Ms. Romanoff.”

I blinked in surprise, turning back to stare at the wood hesitantly. The chain was still on as I cracked the door open, finding the pale blue staring back at me and accompanied by a soft smile. “Hey. Uh… I just wanted to see if you need anything. You know… Painkillers, or…”

“I’m good. Bruce has it handled,” I replied shortly, surprised and thrown off by his arrival. He nodded once, still hesitating at my door.

“Okay, I, uh… I guess I’ll leave you to it. Wake me if you need anything, yeah?” I nodded back, but still he didn’t move, his eyes flickering between my face and the room behind me. “How’s the room? Comfortable, or…?”

Another curt nod, flexing my fingers at the end of the cast. The sling was uncomfortable and disarming, and the longer Clint kept me talking, the longer it would be until I could disobey the doctor’s orders in private and remove it. “It’s fine.”

His head bobbed jerkily, and he stepped back, reluctance evident.

… Maybe I don’t owe him anything, but maybe he still expects…

I leant against the doorframe, head cocked, smiling softly. “Did you wanna come in, Barton?”

His eyes widened in something akin to alarm, and he swallowed. “I- Uh… I…”

“We can talk some more. Or we don’t have to talk at all, not if you don’t want to…” I added, peering up at him demurely through my lashes as I offered him my free hand.

His jaw twitched, and he took another, stumbling step back. “I-I should… I… I should get to bed. And you need your rest, too.”

I blinked in surprise, standing stiffly upright. “I- Oh. Sure.”

“Goodnight, Natasha.” He half-turned, and I baulked, brow furrowing.

“… Are you really just going to walk away?” I clarified incredulously, unimpeded arm curling protectively around my waist. Is it me? “What’s wrong with you?”  His eyebrow raised, and I scowled. “Nobody walks away.”

He shrugged a shoulder, offering me a weak smile. “I don’t want that,” he replied gently. “I just want to be your friend, Natasha.”

“But this is how it is,” I countered hotly, an edge of judgement creeping into my tone. “This is how it works. This is how good things happen, and how we avoid the worse things.”

His eyes softened as he considered me, head tipped slightly to one side, thoughtful. “… I can’t imagine what those worse things were,” he murmured, grimacing, “but I can promise that you never have to do anything you don’t want to in order to avoid punishment.”

My eyes narrowed, suspicious and uncertain, and I watched him for a moment, considering his open,  honest expression. “… Whatever you say,” I conceded eventually, stepping back into my room a little. His face lit up, and I scowled, unimpressed by the joy he found in the beginnings of my trust.

Why is he so eager for me to trust him?

“Goodnight, Nat,” he said again, more brightly this time, and I offered him a curt nod before I closed the door.

It wasn’t until I stood staring at the wood, processing what had transpired in the corridor, that his words sunk in, and I blinked in surprise.

He called me ‘Nat’. … He did that earlier, too.

… I’ve never had a nickname before.

[andypantsx3]

omg hi yeah i am by no means an expert in korean cuisine but i think an easy soup to make for me is doenjjang jjigae!! similar to miso, but it’s a fermented soybean paste! w some firm tofu, zucchini and potato? such a yummy filling soup!! and honestly cheap to make once you have korean cooking essentials on deck! also soondubu jjigae! at an asian market you can probably find the BCDs Soon Tofu Soup Kit, medium hot has better flavor imo! and it comes with soft tofu, and the soup base needed and you can zuch, mushrooms, and an egg if you want!! i also love just a good soybean sprout soup, souper ;) simple!! i also recommend checking out the youtuber Maangchi! she’s an icon and she’s where I first found a ton of great and straightforward Korean recipe videos!! :) cafemaddy and gleetzbapsang have some great t*ktok recipe vídeos!! (i really love korean food lol)

Oh my god this is a treasure trove!! Thank you so much!!!

I am sticking this in my recipes tag to come back to bc all of this sounds soooo unbelievably good and 100% up my alley and I think I need to make literally every single thing you mentioned lmao!!

Thank you my benevolent Korean soup angel!!!! 🍲👼💕

[ashburninks]

Your Line Art Looks Bad and Here's Why

ok, now that I have your attention let's go over some housekeeping first.

one, take what applies and leave the rest.

Two, I'm stupid. Please be nice to me if you do happen to disagree with whatever I'm about to spew all over this god-forsaken website.

Now! On to the meat and potatoes!

Do you remember when you were in art class? and your teacher would be like "Line is a moving dot" or whatever the fuck

Like, sure you could say that's what line is but I've personally found it to be a road in which your eye travels; this can be figurative-like with leading lines- or literal, like with line work on paper done with a pen.

For the sake of clarity and sanity, I'm just going to talk about the literal aspect for the most part since leading lines kinda run in the background as you learn the more important, foundational aspects of art such as composition, shape, etc.

There are a few things that make good quality line art: Intent, quality, and control.

The most straightforward of the three is Quality.

good quality line art is stable and confident strokes with your brush or pen. It is also effectively using line weight and line opacity.

someone I've found to be quite proficient in this is Kim Jung Gi (rip King)

If you look closely at his work there are a few things you can notice immediately. He has incredible line confidence and his lines vary in opacity and weight. He truly was a master of his craft and I strongly encourage you to study his other work as well.

Control is tricky because it's not about what you put down on the paper but more about what you don't. This doesn't mean you can't do what you want but consider the reason for every stroke of your pen and what it adds to the piece. An absolute master of control is Jamie Hewlett.

Every single line he put down, has rhyme, reason, and bears visual weight. also, peep the use of line weight.

Finally, Intent. this one is similar to control but unique in that in using this tool, you can change the entire aesthetic of your piece; because let's be real - not every drawing calls for super delicate strokes. this is where you make the important decision as to what good line work looks like for the piece that you're creating.

An artist I find to be quite interesting in their use of intent is Deathburger on Instagram (also My favorite artist).

Deathburger intentionally keeps his line work rigid and consistent in line weight throughout his whole piece; it lends itself to the cyberpunk aesthetic that he absolutely dominates. his lines are organic and not totally straight which is endearing and makes the work feel alive. This is an excellent example of what good line work looks like that isn't necessarily smooth and super line-weighty.

also, yes, people can tell when you're just bad at line art or if it's your style. please stop lying, it's embarrassing.

Now that I've gone over what makes good line work it's time to talk about how to get better.

try drawing the same thing over and over as a warmup. for me this was Garfield. I recommend something simple, quick, and cartoony.

another thing you can do is practice calligraphy and script; this is a trick that tattoo artists do and it works incredibly well since it involves both straights and curves.

staying on the topic of what tattoo artists do, try wrapping your paper around a soda can or something round. it's challenging, humbling, and effective at getting better at line confidence.

Last but not least, study your favorite artists and see what they're doing that's effective, and try it yourself.

anyways, let me know if I missed anything lol

bye

Cole

[charmcoin]

laying in bed anyway i need to go to the grocery store tomorrowwwwww i don't need a whole lot mostly just stuff for mashed potatoes i think. i don't know what actually won my dinner poll too lazy to scroll back and check but when i was watching it turkey meatballs was winning and also i just got up and took the turkey out of the freezer so i'm gonna do like swedish meatballs with one pound and save the other pound for another time. the ravioli was like runnerup so i'll probably do that after this. have a meeting tomorrow and need to tell my pi that i 1) won't be at lab meeting this week because of dumb WORK 👎 and 2) that i need door access because this cannot continue. other than that tomorrow should be relatively simple straightforward etc. realizing now i feel like i had a thing going on tomorrow night but maybe not i don't know there's nothing in my calendar. Can't have been too important i suppose

[penig]

No Difference

One of the things fans must prepare themselves for when new content comes out is that their favorite headcanons may have to be modified on the fly. This can be dismaying in the moment, and there is a point at which the violation of a headcanon or interpretation requires detachment from the media entirely (cf anything involving JJ Abrams, certain seasons of the X-Files, that other thing you immediately thought of), but most of the time most of us can adjust and move on.

Every once in awhile, having a headcanon invalidated can be immensely clarifying.

I have long held the headcanon that Aziraphale accepted Crowley entirely, as a demon, and had no wish for him to rise and be an angel again. It seems straightforward that this is so in the book, and goes hand-in-hand with the Guardian Angel of Queers reading of Aziraphale. It is essential, in queer spaces, to accept people as they are and where they are and not make a bunch of drama when the category they file themselves in shifts.

When the show came along, and I had to deal with the bandstand, I briefly considered adjusting this headcanon, as it provides a basis for a relatively simple reading of the complex mental processes Aziraphale was going through at that point; but I ultimately rejected that reading as disrespectful of the relationship in a way I didn't see elsewhere, and went for a more complicated, but more nuanced, reading. So I was disappointed when Aziraphale proffered Crowley the opportunity to be reinstated as an angel as an unambiguously good thing in the Final Fifteen, and had to deal with that disillusionment on top of all the rest.

And then I put it together with the E1 teaser and the Job minisode and had a revelation.

Aziraphale does not detect any difference between Demon Crowley and that starmaker he met that time.

He tried to, when they encountered each other on the wall. Distracted by his own guilty feelings for giving away his sword and his worry about Adam and Eve, he nevertheless recognizes Crowley, and even if he thinks about it at all assumes that Crowley recognizes him. After all, why would a demon slither up to a strange angelic guardian out of the blue, without knowing anything about him? So Aziraphale clocks him as having no memory loss and probably never thinks about that issue again. He keeps reminding himself that things have changed, and trying to read Crowley's behavior as Evil, but Crowley does nothing to support that reading, instead speaking Aziraphale's secret rebellious heart out loud. Which must mean...that Aziraphale is a bad angel? Secretly agreeing with a demon?

It has to have struck him that the questions the starmaker set off to ask God are small potatoes, compared to giving away a sacred charge and then lying to God's face about it. So he struggles to do his duty and be a good obedient angel in the teeth of his own doubts about the Garden and the Flood and who knows what else, and to see the Evil in the fallen angels he encounters. Which is probably not hard if he runs into the generality of demons, but is very hard indeed when he runs into the ex-starmaker.

And then comes Job, and the ex-starmaker is actively exerting himself, killing blameless goats and children because he wants to, and God is making bets with Satan and deserting Her faithful favorites that She claims to love and every fiber of his being is screaming that this is wrong this is all wrong how did everything get so wrong -

And then the crows bleat. And light dawns in Aziraphale's anxious heart again.

It's a small and glimmering light, because - he now knows that God has behaved unjustly. He knows that Crowley didn't deserve to Fall and that the Fall has not changed his fundamental nature. Moreover, he knows that he himself, the Liar of Heaven, has transgressed as much as Crowley has, and more. If he isn't being dragged down into Hell (a fate he is perfectly prepared to face and accepted as just, mind!), then Crowley shouldn't have been sent there, either. And if becoming a demon didn't change who Crowley is, and wouldn't have changed who Aziraphale is - then angel and demon are just job titles. Roles to play.

He cannot discuss this revelation with Crowley. He can't discuss it with anybody. By the time he is free to talk about things like that, it has informed his behavior and shaped his decisions to such a degree that he never thinks to bring the matter up.

In the original "Hard Times" cold open, there is a clear point at which Aziraphale's whole outlook on life changes, and it happens between the scene of them watching Jesus get nailed up, and the moment he and Crowley meet in Rome. We don't see any brilliant Aziraphale lighting up with enthusiasm faces until that point. So what happened in between? Why, the Resurrection! Redemption is an option on the table! The Rules can change! It's all so beautifully ineffable and in a good way for once! So he asks straight out: Still a demon? Why not? Maybe Crowley's been recalled from his demon job! It could happen!

This assumption underlies every single decision he makes, and once we view his behavior in this light, it is immensely clarifying.

A human audience, hearing Crowley address Aziraphale as "angel," hears an endearment; but Aziraphale will only hear it that way after the years wear the edges off. Crowley may or may not have fallen in love with Aziraphale on the wall, but when he calls Aziraphale "angel" in "A Companion to Owls" he isn't doing so lovingly. It's just a label, no more personal than "book girl" or "army human." We hear Aziraphale address Crowley as "demon," remind him that he's a demon, and it sounds pejorative, either performatively - because Heaven and Hell can't know about their association - or sincerely, depending on context and the amount of generosity applied to Aziraphale.

But to Aziraphale, who assumes on such convincing evidence that demon is just a job title - it is only ever that.

A lot of post-Armageddon fic have Aziraphale addressing Crowley as demon or foul fiend as an endearment; but when we see them post-Armageddon in canon, he has stopped using the term. He is instead doing everything in his power (apart from discussing his assumptions directly with Crowley, which on the one hand is a lapse but on the other hand how often do we discuss basic realities like gravity or the shape of the earth with our loved ones? We only dig down to identify our axioms when we have to do so to solve a problem.) to bind them together and separate them from their old job titles. Crowley is the one saying "angel" all the time, and maybe Aziraphale hears it as an endearment - but he definitely hears it as a reminder of a gulf between them.

A gulf he thought he had eliminated.

Aziraphale isn't an angel anymore, not in his own mind. Didn't he reject obedience? Didn't he Fall on purpose, jumping out of Heaven without waiting to be expelled? Didn't he openly oppose the Great Plan? Didn't he put on a demonic guise and walk into Hell? What is being on Our Side, if it isn't rejecting the whole moral binary?

Yet Crowley can't let go of it. He still accepts that division between them as something real, despite everything Aziraphale has done to eliminate it. It's entirely possible that being called "angel" hurts Aziraphale like a rejection every time he hears it.

We, as audience, see some evidence that the process of Falling did change Crowley somewhat. His memory of Heaven and the War is spotty at best. He doesn't seem quite sure why or how or what happened when he Fell. He remembers "helping" to build a nebula, not being the one to crank it up and get it going after anybody else working on it had left. Does he even remember meeting Aziraphale and getting him to hold the scroll? It's not clear. It will be even less clear to Aziraphale, because they don't talk about Before. It's a sad, sore subject and it was a loong time ago. The only times we see Aziraphale start to maybe bring it up, Crowley cuts him off.

What is Aziraphale supposed to think, but that Crowley is still hurt by the injustice of his Fall? That he can't get past it. "Unforgiveable," he says; but Aziraphale forgives him, multiple times, and it's not enough.

How can we blame Aziraphale for thinking, for hoping, that if Heaven admits the injustice of his Fall, reinstates him, and puts him in a position of power where the two of them can fully be together and make Heaven a less toxic place, that Crowley will finally, finally, finally stop making that stupid unnecessary wholly performative distinction between them?