#junonureyev

[ernmark]

any chance we could get some ot3 or arum/damien or arum/rilla cuddles? maybe physical contact isnt really a thing for monsters, or maybe bc he is a lord he never gets a chance to be casually intimate with people, or maybe he is too isolated from society for some reason. whatever the reason, i would love to see an arum who is not used to that kind of physical affection and when damien and/or rilla find out, they just give him so many cuddles and arum just loves it. ❤❤❤❤

For the record, the setup was supposed to be one sentence long. The fic itself was supposed to be, like, five hundred words, tops.

When Sir Angelo brings Damien to Rilla’s hut, she’s not sure exactly what to make of it.

“Rilla!” he practically sings, lurching toward her on unsteady feet. “My love, my forever flower, my–” He doesn’t get far before he loses his balance heads straight for the ground, and Sir Angelo has to grab him by the shoulders and physically set him in a chair.

If Rilla didn’t know better, she’d guess that Damien is drunk.

But Rilla does know better. Damien isn’t exactly the drunken revelry type.

“How long has he been like this?” she asks.

“A few hours,” Sir Angelo says. “Honestly, I thought he would be fine by now, but it seems he isn’t improving. Really, Sir Damien, this isn’t like you!”

“No, it isn’t,” she agrees, pulling the torn cloth from his shirt to reveal an amateurly administered bandage. “What’s this?”

“That? Just a flesh wound,” Sir Angelo says, clapping Damien on the back hard enough to make him topple again. “This morning the Queen sent him to investigate some kind of monstrous dog, and it tried to take a bite out of him. But no matter: the beast is slain!”

“This morning, you said?” Rilla unwinds the bandage. Sir Angelo is right– for the most part, the bite isn’t all that deep. It’s even been treated with a garlic salve to ward off infection. “Look here– two of these punctures are deeper than the others.”

“Well, that’s because of the teeth, you see,” Sir Angelo says. “Dogs have some teeth that are longer than the others–”

She tries not to roll her eyes. Priorities. “Not this much longer,” she says. “This looks more like something you’d find on a snake. And see the discoloration in the wound here? It didn’t just bite him, it injected something into him.”

“The fiend!”

“Sir Angelo, do you know what happened to the dog’s body? If I can harvest its venom sacs, then I should be able to put together an antivenom.”

Sir Angelo’s chest swells at the prospect of another quest. “Then I will retrieve it presently.”

“Hurry.” A note of worry slips into her voice. “The sooner I can treat him, the better.”

“Then there’s no time to waste! Don’t you worry, Rilla. I’ll have that scoundrel back to you before–”

He’s out the door and Rilla has officially stopped listening. She’s in her garden, activating the modified shriekweed that’s made its home there. She and Arum planted a whole network of them between her hut and the swamp; with any luck, he’ll be around to hear it. The signal is meant to be strictly for emergencies, but… well, this might be.

Antivenom should be administered within minutes, if not seconds. Damien’s been poisoned for hours; there’s no telling what the toxin might have done to him in that time. He’s still slumped across the chair where Sir Angelo left him, mumbling out incoherent declarations of love to the empty air. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that this is affecting his brain. What other side effects is she not seeing? How deep does the damage go? How permanent is it?

She doesn’t have time to worry about those things. Right now she has to focus on stopping the toxin’s progression. She mutters to herself as her hands fly over the rows of jars.

“Sea buckthorn, tumeric, coffee senna…”

“Oh,” Damien slurs, rising from his chair. “I know where that one is…”

She turns. “Damien, wait–”

It’s too late. He grabbed the senna, all right, but it slips from his fingers and smashes on the floor. He staggers, frowning. “Oh… Oh, my Rilla, I’m so sorry…”

“Damien, no.” She pulls him away before he can stumble into the shards of broken pottery. “No, it’s alright. It’s not your fault. But I’m going to need you to sit still and let me handle this.”

To his credit, he does try. He sincerely wants to be helpful. Unfortunately, it only takes a few minutes to remember to stay still, and he gets up and tries groping around among the herbs again. Rilla is in the middle of wrestling a jar of datura out of his hands when the door opens.

“Rilla?” Arum’s voice sinks into a hiss. “What–”

“Just help me grab him!” Rilla snaps.

Arum doesn’t need to be told twice. In a movement so fast she can barely catch it, he’s across the hut. Two of his hands restrain Damien’s wrists; the other two are around his waist, trapping him against Arum’s chest while Rilla grabs the datura out of his hands.

Damien seems to have forgotten about the jar. He stares up at Arum, his face flushed and his eyes wide.

“L-Lord Arum!” He sounds scandalized. Probably for good reason, too: this is the most physical contact the two of them have shared since all those ridiculous duels.

One of Arum’s brow ridges rises quizzically. “This is new.”

“That’s what I needed your help with.” Rilla heaves a sigh and shoves the datura into a drawer where Damien probably can’t get to it. “He got bitten by some kind of dog, and now he’s like… this.”

“A dog,” Arum repeats, adjusting his grip to to free one of his hands. His claws carefully lift the bandage on Damien’s shoulder. “A boozehound.” He rattles irritably. “Of course.”

“Sir Angelo says he was bitten hours ago,” Rilla says quietly. She doesn’t put her fears into words– but with Arum, she doesn’t need to.

“It should wear off on its own within a week,” Arum says. “The venom is hardly dangerous. The victims, on the other hand, can be… difficult.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate, either. Damien’s a Knight of the Queen; he’s stronger than he looks, and if he can pull together enough coordination to actually land a hit, he’ll be dangerous. There’s no chance that he’d ever hurt Rilla– or anyone else– on purpose, but he’s almost poisoned himself once already just trying to be helpful. “Is there any way to get it out of his system faster?”

“There’s a formula that should work,” Arum says. “But you’ll need some of the boozehound’s fur.”

Of course we will.

Rilla doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead she moves on to the important matters. “Sir Angelo’s going to be back soon with its body. What else?”

Arum gives her the rest of the ingredients. Most of them she has on hand, but there are a few that will need to be gathered.

“I can retrieve them while you work,” Arum offers, but Rilla shakes her head.

“It looks like you’re having better luck keeping him under control than I was. If you can hold onto him, I can grab the last of them and be back in an hour.”

Arum agrees to it– but then, he really doesn’t have much of a choice, does he?

She won’t deny she feels a little bad for calling Arum all the way here just to babysit Damien. He doesn’t seem upset about the favor or anything, but… well, it’s him. This relationship between the three of them has been going on for a while now, but there’s still a lot of distance between the two of them and Arum. He stops by for conversation sometimes, but even that tends to happen while he’s lounging in a tree or standing at the other end of the hut. It seems he only ever really gets as close as arm’s length when he and Rilla are looking at the same specimens together, and only ever for a few minutes at a time.

Damien’s thinks that it’s because he’s a lord, and he’s still entitled to a certain degree of decorum. Rilla’s always assumed that he’s just more sensitive about his personal space. Some people just don’t like to be touched.

She appreciates that he’s willing to take a bit of discomfort over this, though. She can’t exactly take Damien with her in this condition, and there’s no telling how much trouble he’d get into before Sir Angelo gets back. She makes her way through the jungle as fast as she safely can, just so he doesn’t have to deal with it any longer than absolutely necessary.

She first spots them through the window: Arum is sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. Damien is nestled comfortably on top of him, half in his lap and half half draped across his chest. He’s got one of Arum’s hands clutched in his arms and he’s petting it like it’s a very needy house cat.

And maybe she was wrong about that personal space thing, because Arum doesn’t look put out or uncomfortable right now.  His three free arms are wrapped around Damien, not to restrain him, but to keep him close. His expression is warm, even tender, and he dips his head to nuzzle Damien’s hair.

Rilla’s pretty sure it’s the most adorable thing she’s ever seen. It’s definitely the most adorable thing she’s ever seen Arum do.

Maybe it’s a little bit distracting. Maybe more than a little bit. Because the next thing she knows, she’s stubbed a toe on the fence post of her garden.

“Shit,” she yelps, pulling her foot back from the offending block of wood.

In the window, Arum freezes like he’s been caught. Discreetly he straightens his spine and rearranges his arms around Damien so they’re less cozy and more neutral. He tries briefly to retrieve the hand in Damien’s grip, but Damien won’t let go. For a moment Arum’s expression is exasperated– then fond.

That’s an interesting reaction.

He’s still stiff and neutral when she makes her way through the door.

“I’m back,” she announces unnecessarily. “I hope he didn’t cause too much trouble?”

“I kept him away from the nightshade,” Arum says.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that– and I think he will, too, once he knows better.” She sets her basket of herbs on her worktable and tests her first hypothesis: “Should I let you put it all together?”

“…No.” She doesn’t miss his hesitation. “The process isn’t a particularly sensitive one. Besides, I don’t want to give him any incentive to try being helpful again.” His arms tighten around Damien.

Rilla has half a mind to jot that down. When given the opportunity to disengage, he insists on maintaining physical contact.

Sir Angelo doesn’t come inside when he delivers the body of the dog beast, but Arum tenses at his approach. That makes sense– he doesn’t exactly get along with Angelo, after all– but she notes the way he tries to distance himself from Damien again.

Behaviors suggest he doesn’t like being observed showing physical affection. Possibly he sees it as a show of vulnerability? Results are inconclusive.

With the hair of the dog and Arum’s instructions, she finishes the antidote in good time. Normally she’d have Arum sit Damien in a chair or something to drink it, but that would waste an opportunity. 

“Can you hold him still?” she asks, and kneels at Arum’s side, close enough that her knees press against his thigh. She leans over him to get the vial into Damien’s hand and guide it to his mouth– and all the while she watches Arum from the corner of her eye. He shifts to accommodate her without reluctance. When her precarious position leaves her wobbling, he sets a hand on the small of her back to steady her.

There are no obvious signs of discomfort or aversion when I touch him, which suggests that his receptiveness to physical contact isn’t exclusive to Damien.

Maybe it’s unscientific of her, but that comes as a relief.

It only takes a few minutes for the antidote to do its work, and even less than that for Damien to realize where he’s sitting.

He finally lets go of the captured hand with a horrified yelp.

“Lord Arum– Rilla– I’m– I’m so sorry– I don’t know what came over me.” He scrambles backward off Arum’s lap, his face dark with a blush.

“It’s fine,” Arum says patiently while Rilla moves in to calm Damien down. “Think nothing of it.”

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on her part, but he seems a little bit sad to let Damien go.

Rilla pays closer attention to Arum after that. He still stays aloof, but she starts noticing little things she missed before– the way he leans closer when one of them is nearby; the way he watches her and Damien when they’re together.

It’s more and more evidence in support of her hypothesis, but it still isn’t conclusive.

“Rilla, what if I’ve caused an international incident?” Damien cries frantically. “What if I’ve started a war?”

Okay, so maybe the Queen should have picked someone else to guard the visiting princess. But Damien’s got a reputation as the tied-for-greatest knight in the Citadel, and he’s a whole lot less likely than Angelo to put his foot in his mouth.

Rilla takes him by the shoulders. “Damien, you’re not going to start a war. You just introduced yourself. That’s perfectly fine.”

“Maybe so far, but there’s still a week left of her highness’s stay. And what if I say something wrong? What if I misspeak? What if I’m too familiar? What if I come across as too distant?”

“Damien, breathe,” Rilla commands. Behind Damien’s back, she signals for Arum to help her out.

He hesitates. This isn’t the first of Damien’s panic attacks that he’s witnessed, but it’s by far the worst one.

“You’re a knight, not a politician,” he adds after a pause. “The princess and her entourage already know to make certain allowances.”

This shouldn’t be the time for another experiment, but Rilla makes a go at it anyway. She steps to one side, making room for Arum without taking her hand off Damien. 

Whether it’s conscious or not, he takes the cue to inch closer. Gingerly he sets his hand on Damien’s shoulder, mirroring hers.

“But what if–”

He gives Damien’s shoulder a squeeze, just hard enough that Damien will be able to feel claws through his shirt. “If your Queen is as competent as you say, then there no mistakes you could make that she cannot mend.” The pressure eases and his claws lay flat on Damien’s shoulder. A second arm slides down the length of Damien’s back and up again.

Usually Rilla has to come up with some kind of distraction to keep Damien from slipping back into a panic, but this time she doesn’t need to. Sharing this much contact with Arum is rare enough that it’s a distraction all on its own.

Damien’s eyes are on Arum, and so Rilla lets hers flick to him, too. He looks intent and solid, with no sign of discomfort even when Rilla sets her free hand on his upper shoulder. If anything, he leans into the touch.

The thing about science is that there’s only a certain degree of certainty. Run enough experiments and you can be pretty confident about what you’re going to get, but there’s still a chance that you missed something important. Especially when the science you’re dealing with has less to do with things like plants and chemistry and more to do with things as complicated as feelings and boundaries.

Which is why, when she tells Damien about her experiments, he suggests the final test.

Damien has to take a moment to gather his courage before he approaches Arum. Even after months of being in this relationship, he’s still fighting the fear that he’ll be rejected– and in this case, when that fear feels especially well-founded, it takes even more will to go through with it. But he is a knight right down to the bone.

Rilla bites her lip, overwhelmed by a surge of fondness, but she keeps her mouth shut and continues making the tea.

“A-Arum?” His tongue stumbles a little; he’s still getting used to talking to Arum without formal address. “May I sit with you?”

It’s such a simple thing that Arum looks a little bit concerned. “I… don’t see why not?” he hedges.

There are plenty of places to sit in the little hut, but Damien settles right next to him, so close their legs are pressed together. Tentatively he leans his head against Arum’s shoulder. “Is… is this alright?”

For an awkward, silent moment, Arum stares at Damien in complete incomprehension. Then he glances at Rilla, who continues making the tea and pretends she hasn’t been watching all of this through the reflection in the window. Finally he comes to a decision.

“Yes,” he says at last, and drapes an arm around Damien’s shoulders.

Satisfied, Rilla takes the tea off the fire and strains it into three cups. She brings two of them to Arum and Damien before ducking back into the kitchen and returning with one of her own. “Mind if I join you?”

Arum raises a brow ridge suspiciously, but he nods. When Rilla sits on his other side, he no longer looks surprised, just very confused. He keeps glancing from one to the other, as if there’s some connection he should be making.

Just like with Damien, there’s a moment of indecision, and then another arm settles around her waist, careful not to tug on her hair.

[greerbaiting]

Kate talks to Bertie like he’s a small puppy that needs protecting and that’s the most adorable thing ever because in many ways that is Bertie. 

Bertie talks to Kate like she knows what’s going on all the time and it’s one of the best things ever because in many ways that is Kate. 

Sometimes they walk off down the Bridge together because they need to get away from the other two. They love them, but sometimes they’re just so exhausting. 

Kate falls asleep on Bertie’s shoulder at least once a week. 

Imagine these two going and getting ice cream cones at the park together. 

This reply is a weird mixture of comments and headcanons wtf 

[elftwink]

junonureyev replied to your post “hey…. anyone with better memory that me remember if we know when...”

His death isn’t on ernmark’s timeline so I'm pretty sure we don't know when it happened (https://ernmark.tumblr.com/post/157109771822/the-penumbra-timeline#notes)

ok sick i can just write whatever i want then also BLESS someone else already did the work i was sloppily trying to do myself thank you so much for linking me dkjhghkjshg

[copperbadge]

junonureyev replied to your post “Tonight in Sam Plays the Ukulele”

What's evil fruit?

I don’t know if I ever actually knew what the California border check was for -- it was for “agricultural products” which included fruit and veg. It was to prevent certain bugs and plant diseases (like Dutch Elm Disease) from getting into California. (Interestingly enough, the park in Indiana has signs posted everywhere that you can’t haul in firewood, you have to buy it locally, for much the same reason.)

I was really weirded out the first time I was in a car in Oregon and we drove into Washington with no checkpoint. I was so accustomed to the Nevada-California checkpoint by then that I assumed all states had them. 

[theradioghost]

For the ask thing: Cheri Littlebottom from Discworld, Julian DiMaggio from the Penumbra, and Mallory from Greater Boston

ahhh!!!!!! my badass alchemist gf Cheri for lab partner clearly. she blew up the alchemists guild but she also invented forensic science and more importantly is the Best Person on the Entire Disc and I love her. (fun fact: this is actually how I met my best friend)

stuck on a broken elevator for ten hours with Mallory bc I love her, and l would gladly listen to her for ten hours. for a hundred hours. for always.

julian as mcdonalds new employee trainer because i don’t want to do either of the other things with him I guess??? is saffron pharma really doing this badly?

[garden-of-succulents]

While they all sound amazing, I'm rooting for the ASG story. I live for stories with Andy in them!

(meme link) (fic tag link)

(Sorry this is so short, I’m having trouble making this fic flow so it’s gonna come out in WEE TINY PIECES)

Despite the time difference, Kent is up and out of bed before dawn.

His phone is exploding with notifications now. The ASG is his version of summer camp, he who never went to summer camp. Not even he can summon this large a collection of his favourite people in the off season. Now people he’s only seen once or twice since August are twenty feet away; Kent springs out of bed thanks to a rap on the door, someone going down the hotel corridor to wake members of a raiding party. 

Thirty minutes later Kent calls her, snickering, and warns her not to get her breakfast from the Hoover Conference Room. “Should I even ask?” she says, but he’s giggling too hard to answer.

Andy just puts her phone aside and goes to relax in a long and luxurious shower. 

[stonefreeak]

I'm pretty sure "going completely insane trying to figure out why the program doesn't work" is a normal step of basically every programming project. So you're not alone in that, at least

Hahahha, yeah. That sounds about right, yes. ;)

[qqueenofhades]

what's the man in high castle about?

OKAY SO.

this has to be the minimum non-spoiler version because i don’t want to ruin any of the twists for you, AND THERE ARE A LOT. like. don’t ever get too comfortable because they are going to pull the rug out from under you.

it’s set in an alternate history where germany and japan won world war ii and have occupied america. half of it (the east coast/midwest) is the greater nazi reich, there’s a neutral zone in between, and the west coast is the japanese pacific states. it’s 1962. there’s an american resistance which is mostly underground but still fighting.

that is the basic premise. it’s an ensemble show and it cycles through a number of characters/viewpoints and there is an element of sci-fi introduced fairly early that i don’t wanna spoil because it’s the plot line currently breaking my heart the most but i love it so much. but anyway, there are films (newsreel-style footage) being smuggled along a sort of underground railroad, from a mysterious “man in the high castle.” the nazis really, REALLY want to get their hands on these. why? watch and find out.

the production design is beyond amazing. it is utterly detailed and authentic and immersive and how did they film this without actually going to an alternate reality because EVERYTHING IS JUST??? yeah. wow.

when the pilot ends with a merciless nazi commander ordering a guy beaten to death, and the next episode starts with a white picket fence scene in apparently idyllic suburbia and it’s him with his family before work, you know this show is gonna fuck you hard and make you confront everything you think about or imagine, and yeah, it does that. it takes the nazi thing out of the safe box of “oh that was world war ii it doesn’t matter anymore” and obviously it is INCREDIBLY GOD DAMN RELEVANT for our current moment.

the characters are all grey as hell, and even the outright villains are complex -- at times you almost start feeling sorry for them and then it’s like YEAH NO THEY ARE GODDAMN NAZIS. but they’re unrelentingly, unflinchingly human, both good and bad. the main nazis are all white american men; the leaders of the resistance are women and people of color. if you think they won’t hit on something, they hit on it. the complicity of religion with fascism? japanese concentration camps? jews struggling to survive? the united states’ own history of genocide with the native americans/legacy of slavery? nazi racism? american racism? anti-semitism?  “just following orders?” the excuse that you were just doing what you have to? the concept of how bad you have to be/the morality of what you are willing to do in order to defeat a greater evil? the question of what you yourself are going to have to sacrifice? literally everything you want them to talk about, they do?

the twists, oh my god the twists.

the acting is phenomenal. i have a hard time believing these people aren’t actually these characters, it’s unreal. i am FUCKING TERRIFIED every time the two main baddies/shit-fucker-uppers are on screen.

it’s dark as hell, but it’s so unbelievably compelling. it’s difficult to watch in a few places the same way schindler’s list is, but it is never explicitly or unrelentingly gory or violent, and they never let “grimdark” serve in place of the story. they show you enough, but never TOO MUCH ALL THE TIME.

i have called so many things that then happen like 4 seconds later because of how brilliantly they set up/prepare them, and then you still get blindsided by the twists coming after THAT.

on a storytelling level, it’s so fucking impressive. the writing is amazing; nothing ever goes to waste, all plot elements appear and are used for a reason.

i have had so many scenes in this where i am just totally shaken and am like oh my god. wow. okay. holy shit. give me a moment.

like. it’s not a fangirl flail show but it’s so goddamn important for the world we are currently living in and it has been a long time since i’ve been so fucking blown away by something. just. wow. for someone trying to tell stories and think about this world in a way that matters, wow.

it’s on amazon prime. watch the thing.

[ernmark]

prompt: aromantic Rita?

Rita loves love.

Or rather, she loves other people’s love, what with all the angst and drama and fluff and sweetness-- it’s enough to make her heart absolutely melt. She can’t get enough of seeing them swoon and sigh, and she giggles until she’s a little bit of a wreck, just burying her face in her hands from the excitement of it all.

It’s dramatic and amazing and wonderful. Just look at her boss, after all-- hardly a day goes by when he’s not sighing over that special someone (he thinks she doesn’t know, but she noticed his hangovers started gettin’ worse after Agent Glass left). And that super dreamy Prince of Mars-- he was so in love, and it was so sad, and he still was absolutely torn up about what happened to Juno even in the middle of his own tragedy. It really makes you see the good in the world, you know? 

It’s all so wonderful, really.

Mista Steel asked her once, when he got drunk, if it ever bothered her that she didn’t get all twitterpated about folks the way he does. It’s a weird question, really. Like asking if it ever bothered her that she doesn’t like peanut butter, or that she doesn’t have a tail, or that she can’t play the hyrdo-harpsichord. Sure, she could, but it’s such a weird thing to get hung up about, isn’t it?

Besides, she’s pretty sure she’s saving herself a whole lot of headaches. As much fun as her stories are to watch, she’d rather not be the one having to live ‘em. 

[thegodawfulgatsby]

junonureyevs replied to your photoset: tfw you find a new dollmaker and spend all night...

which DOLL MAKER IS THIS

BAM

[greerbaiting]

Personally I think that she was generally just kind of crappy? Like, in my mind she was someone who was very difficult to work with, particularly for Roger (judging by the fact that the only mention of her we get is after he’s talking to Kate about how she’s one of the few people who understands how he is). I think she probably left pretty suddenly and they don’t really want to talk about her that much because now they have Kate so why would they? 

Alternately, I think there’s a possibility that she’s the “you” that Roger was addressing in his Emo Rain Speech, although I’m less fond of that theory. 

[elftwink]

junonureyev replied to your post: i think im literally going to have to cite the...

Well fandom is a huge reason, but honestly I think most of us are in fandoms because we’re queer so that’s maybe not that helpful

I KNOW JKSHGDKJHGSHJKH its a very big overlap. i’m citing both fanbases and and the lgbt+ community briefly bc thats. why i use it. and also tbh the things tumblr is well known for outside the site (well, more loosely social justice, but when people talk social justice & tumblr their go-to example tends to be “tumblr invented 9282 genders” which falls under lgbt+ community) even if its. portrayed as a bad thing by them skhjdghhk

[mordinsolusarchive]

@junonureyevs replied to your photoset: i finally made ryder twins i’m happy with :) this...

i am SO SORRY but my first thought of scott was ‘fallout 4 cc? is that you?’

considering how hard it is to make a decent scott out of these presets i’m taking it as a compliment lol

[theradioghost]

okay i want to know basically everything about what Riley's doing with their life. What's their job at the hotel? What are their hobbies (other than the whole demon summoning thing? (Am I even using the right pronouns for Riley? The post doesn't give any, which I assume is intentional)

Riley doesn’t work at the hotel, but they have been a recurring guest there for decades! Technically they pay for their stays in carpentry, repairs and the kind of assorted housekeeping which keeps a hotel that regularly houses all manner of magical whatsits and whosnames running, so ‘handyperson’ is probably the closest thing? They spend most of their time globetrotting and their main hobby is basically acquiring new skills–after all, when you’re gonna live forever, you’ve got time to learn everything you ever thought might be cool. They are particularly into new languages, which is incidentally why they got so much practice with demon summoning; trying to learn Latin while rooming with a bunch of French witches in the late 1600s means reading a lot of grimoires. (they are usually way too excited about doing it, though.)

[davidalleynes]

junonureyevs replied to your post: popular opinion

I regret this reply

I JUST MADE THE UGLIEST NOISE

[septaneus-blog]

hewwo?????? HEWOO?? do the mods know I wuv them? i'm reserving Juno Steel (The Penumbra Podcast) & Caleb Widogast (Critical Role) ! the date is 07/06 and you can reach me here or at @junonureyev on Twitter

HEWWO?? MISTEW OBAMA??? we wuv u too!!!! and that is obviously the reason we are putting these reserves in for you until july 20th and not out of any sense of professionalism whatsoever!

✧ snapdragon