#my layers for this are kind of bananas

[tvictrix]

scene repaint that started as a quick stylization study and got... so far out of my hands ..

anyways if u havent got the memo this is my favorite movie everyone go watch it please, also rendering lisas hair was so much fun would recommend

(dm for commission info)

[s-aint-elmo]

that tidbit in @kchzndrvh‘s post about nana transferring a lot bc of her family and therefore being incredibly lonely is kinda making me a little insane. bc in that situation kids typically either wall themselves off and stop trying to make connections OR present themselves in a way that invites interest and fosters connection (even if their presentation is dishonest or the connections are shallow). and the way that nana clearly went hard on the latter option—making herself appealing by centering others and making herself available to counsel or comfort them, then feeling worthless when she perceives that her help isn't needed (as seen in overture my best friend overture)—makes me SO sad. just. the image of this desperately lonely kid who got it in her head that to be loved she has to be needed, and to be needed she has to be useful. who chose to be useful by being kind and nurturing and offering her love one baked good at a time. kinda tragic kinda heartwarming (as many things about daiba nana are)

[applecherry108]

I’m knee deep in a Lucifer fanart I started right after the finale, and I’m getting to the point where I’m thinking I should invest in a background.

Do I…prolong this endeavor? For god knows how long? And draw a mountain of rubber duckies…? 🤔😂

[spockandawe]

Here we go! I have some smaller books to share as well, but I've been absolutely VIBRATING with excitement to share a BIG one, and I'm going to indulge myself and post that today, then figure out words for the rest. Because I bound a new cnovel. Check it out, guys, I bound jwqs/clear and muddy loss of love :D

Let me indulge myself and backtrack a little! First, these are quarto books, so they're short. But I think these average a little under 500 pages each, and jwqs is a LONG book (my beloved), and this adds up to a total eleven inches of lesbians. More like twelve once they're in their cases. It's over a million characters in Chinese and I think the English translation comes in somewhere around 890k, it's HUGE

Making these books was SO FUN, I hadn't read jwqs and still haven't, and will probably read on my phone when I do. I don't have any exciting photos of the typesetting, but I knew this was an imperial succession story, and that made me nervous, those stories don't always click for me. Well, the process of typesetting and adding footnotes for this beast definitely confirmed that I'm going to have a good time with this thing when I have the time to read it, but there was also so much going on that only the vaguest of spoilers sank in. I went into an absolute FRENZY of typesetting, and after I printed, cut and folded it, well. That was one afternoon of sewing. You're looking at the reason I'm scrambling to make up a few hours of missed work, hahaha

After that, I needed cases. At the very beginning of march, I received a shipment of some FASCINATING bookcloth. It's called Duo, and it's made by layering a thin gauzy fabric of one color over paper of a different color. Depending on the combos, you get a really cool range of color-shifting effects. And they've gone out of production! But I was part of a group order to get some of the goods, and hadn't yet finished a new project. Reader, I went for it.

That purple and green is bananas!!!! It's so hard to photograph, this midnight picture of a few cases is one of my most successful attempts to capture the full range up close. Originally I'd been thinking of trying to evoke imperial gold, but I figured this was still the kind of drama and luxury suited the book, and also something something the hidden colors suited Qi Yan's character. I tied it back a little to the imperial gold with the endpapers, then titled them in silver foil, since the endpapers had silver in them.

But once the books were made, I felt like it wanted something... more. Something like a BOX!

And me, I chase novelty. A set this large would be tricky for anything clamshell, but a slipcase for all seven would leave books tipping all over if it was wide open, but putting walls between slots would be demanding in terms of precision and would risk similarly-sized books getting stuck in the wrong slots. Then I remembered learning about slipcases where you could put in a little insert to support the weight of the text block, and the concept SNAPPED into place.

Colors aren't going to photograph well at midnight, but I made the supports using the scraps and off-cuts from my endpapers, to tie it back into the bindings. The back of the case is lined in more of the duo, and the walls are lined with a faux leather bookcloth I like a lot, it feels buttery smooth and seemed like a good neutral material to tie the papers and bookcloth together. I listened to some of the DEEPEST layers from the nine-hour conspiracy theory iceberg video while I was working on this, haha, it was a TRIP.

And in the end, each of the supports is sized to comfortably sit in the smallest of the volumes, and evenly spaced, so I believe it will take the books in any order with no problems. It's easy to grab the books without having to cut notches into the walls to grab them from. And even though weight is less of an issue for quarto sizing, the books in here have their weight supported no matter what angle the box is at! I'm so, so pleased with how this concept worked out and definitely plan to do more with it in the future.

So there we are! Jing Wei Qing Shang! I had such a fabulous time with this project, and I'm so excited to get to share it with all of you. The story was fun to work with, the bindings and box were fun to make, and everything here came together just as well as I could possibly have hoped. I'm so proud of this, and incredibly, incredibly excited to show it to you!

[magics-neptunes-things]

Sneaky Cheeky

Hi guys :)

Another Luna fic, I hope you will like it :) It's from requests here and here. For this story, let say England qualified for the Olympics instead of the Netherlands, sorry Viv I love you.

Enjoy ♥

TW : Suggestive but not explicit content

______________________________________________________________

"Lucy is moodyyyyy, she miss her Oh-niiii" Ella Toone sings, catching Lucy’s glare.

"Fuck of Tooney" Lucy mumble, arms crossed on her chest. "At least say her name correctly for fuck's sake"

Sitting in one of the beanbags provided in the TV room, her leg is crossed on the other and her foot shakes nervously. Next to Ella, Alessia puts a hand on her best friend’s arm to prevent her from adding a layer. Lucy seems to be on edge and the blonde thinks wisely that it’s useless to add fuel in the fire.

"What’s the matter, mate?" inquired Leah once Ella decided to go after Mary. "This is not the first time you have been separated because of national camps"

"You’ll make fun of me" Lucy replies, taking a quick look at Leah.

"Of course not duh"

Lucy looks carefully at Leah for a few seconds, judging her captain’s sincerity before giving her an answer.

"Come on. I miss my girlfriend too, I can understand"

"I’m still worried about her with this damn federation. Rubiales and Vilda are gone, but it’s still a basket of rotten crabs. I already know a lot and I’m sure she didn’t tell me everything so I wouldn’t worry too much for her."

Leah reluctantly nodded, the difficulties faced by the Spanish national team broke out after the World Cup final. She learned it at the same time as the rest of the world and it was a real general shock.

"I can understand. But they’re together and that’s a good thing, right? They know they are supported now, I don’t think they can make things worse now that everyone knows"

Lucy answers only with an unconvinced grunt.

"Putellas and the others are there to watch over the younger ones, including Ona" Leah gently recalls.

Lucy sighs softly and lets herself go against the back of her seat this time, relaxing a little. Leah is right, she knows full well that Alexia or even Irene and Jenni wouldn't let anyone harm one of the other players. But they can’t be everywhere every time either. Lucy asked Ona to stay as close as Alexia as she can.

"I know that… but it’s my job to look after her" mumbles Lucy.

Glancing at the blonde, Lucy realizes she is smiling. But it's not a mocking smile, rather a kind of soft smile.

"What?" made Lucy, a little defensive

"Nothing. It’s sweet to see how much you care about her"

Lucy prefers to roll her eyes and take her phone out of her pocket, although a smile comes to soften her face. Yeah, of course she cares about her girlfriend. Leah is a close friend of Keira’s, but seems to have accepted their breakup without taking sides with either of them. It makes sense that she exchanges more with Keira since they are best friends, but that never prevented her from having a good relationship with Lucy.

The smile of the English girl however quickly fades noticing that if she has several notifications, none of them bear the name of her girlfriend.

Lucy ❤️‍🔥 Ona, I swear, if I don’t hear from you in ten minutes, I’ll show up at your hotel, I don’t care.

She isn't joking. To pass the time, Lucy excuses herself to Leah to go get something to drink. Their diet being monitored given the circumstances, Lucy opts for a banana-kiwi smoothie. However, they have nothing of the taste of those that Ona makes her every morning at home in Barcelona. And, when it's only two minutes left, Lucy finally feels her phone vibrate in her pocket.

Hoping that it's indeed Ona and not her mother, Lucy takes a quick glance on the screen, sighing of relief when seeing the name of her girlfriend appear. Without any hesitation, Lucy picks up and relaxes a little while seeing Ona’s face appear on the screen of her phone.

"Where the hell were you?"

It was harsher than she wanted, and Ona makes a slight grimace when hearing Lucy’s tone but decides not to hold it against her, knowing that there is only worry behind this reaction.

"We had a meeting that went on forever, I'm sorry"

Lucy sniff and Ona smile softly, lying on the bed of her hotel room.

"I’m so sorry. I went to my room as fast as I could, the others are still downstairs. But everything is fine" assures Ona, that Lucy listens only with one ear, distracted by the long hair and the brunette that scatters around her head. "Where are you?"

"In the cafeteria. The others are in the TV room but Ella was starting to get on my nerves" confesses the English, making Ona smile.

The brunette knows Ella well, and Alessia too, since they all played for Manchester United before Ona went to Barcelona and Alessia to Arsenal. She is therefore perfectly aware of Ella’s behavior and character, even if it never bothered her personally.

"What was she doing?"

"Nothing" Lucy replies, rolling her eyes.

Noticing that her girlfriend’s bad mood persists, Ona rolls on her stomach and looks more closely at Lucy through the screen. It’s been three weeks since they saw each other, even if their hotels are not even one kilometer from each other. Nothing more frustrating in the eyes of the two young women.

"Qué pasa mi Vida?" asks Ona affectionately.

"I miss you" Lucy says in a low voice. "I can't sleep when you’re not with me"

"I miss you too. I can’t wait to be on holiday and having you only for me"

"I’ll be so glued to you that you’d be sick of me" Lucy smirks

"There’s no way I can ever get sick of you. I miss you too much. You will be the one asking for air"

"I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you. You’ll be lucky if you can take two steps without my hands on you."

"Cant' wait for it"

Lucy hum for any answer, without leaving Ona’s face with her eyes. The two young women planned a two-week trip to Fiji after the Olympics Games, wishing to be able to meet and relax before returning home to Barcelona.

"You look tired too" Lucy notes after a few seconds.

"Being away from me changes you, usually you tell me how beautiful I am" Ona tease her.

Lucy laughs softly while shaking her head and Ona can only smile when hearing the young woman relax a little.

"I said you looked tired, not ugly" Lucy objects.

"Yeah. I liked it better when you threatened to come to my hotel to see me"

"Don’t tempt me" sighs Lucy.

Ona just sent her a sad smile, leaning her chin on her hand.

"Don’t look at me like that" whispers Lucy.

"Like what?"

"You know very well what I mean"

Ona gently shrugs her shoulders, biting her lower lip. She always try to make good figure while talking to her, but learning that Lucy miss her too didn't help.

"I sleep badly without you, too" ended up confessing Ona. "Your sweater almost doesn’t smell like you anymore"

"Okay, that’s enough" Lucy abruptly said as she jump from the stool she was on.

"What are you doing?" asks Ona, surprised by Lucy’s behavior.

But the Spaniard receives no response, finding herself suddenly in the belly pocket of Lucy’s sweatshirt. Various noises giving her no explanation or even the slightest clue about what is happening are heard, before the communication is cut off.

Ona 🧡 Lucy what the hell are you doing?

But Ona doesn't get the slightest answer and it's suddenly her turn to be worried and nervous by not getting news of her girlfriend. She asks herself if she should call one of her english friend but she decided to give Lucy some minutes.

Deciding to go to the bathroom to change her mind, Ona puts on a t-shirt that she borrowed from Lucy (without really asking to be fair) and undertakes to brush her hair, then her teeth. She didn't plan to leave her room anyway and Aitana with whom she shares her room saw her less dressed than that more than once.

However, the Catalan girl’s eyebrows frown a little when she hears knocks at the door. Ona takes the time to finish tying her hair in a bun for the night before going to answer. This doesn't seem to suit the person behind the door since new knocks are being made, stronger and more pressing this time.

"Llego" Ona says in Spanish, feeling a strange sensation in her stomach.

She still remembers Vilda’s unexpected visits a few months ago but she tries to reason in the short seconds before she opens the door to her room. But Vilda is no longer there, so there is no risk that this will happen, right?

Her face is however slightly anxious when she opens the door, quickly relaxing when she sees Lucy’s face. Before she realized Lucy had no reason to be here. But she doesn’t have time to ask her a single question before Lucy sneaks inside, fearing to be surprised by someone else.

Relieved to finally be safe, the Englishwoman turns to Ona who has meanwhile closed the door of her bedroom before hugging her. The Catalan responds quickly to herembrace, passing her arms around Lucy. Her face in the hollow of her neck allows Lucy to find the perfume and smell of Ona she loves.

"Lucia if they catch you…" ended up whispering Ona, without breaking away from her girlfriend.

"I don’t care. You're worth it"

Lucy’s voice is masked by Ona’s hair, which makes her smile.

"I missed you so much" sighs Lucy, slowly detaching herself from Ona.

But the youngest doesn't seem to hear it from this ear since she tightens her arms around Lucy, the latter still so surprised to remember the strength of her girlfriend, despite their difference of size of a few centimeters.

"Ona" laughs softly Lucy

But Ona shakes her head negatively, continuing to refuse to release her girlfriend and puts her head in the hollow of her neck.

"Let me at least look at you" the Englishwoman asked, which Ona finally accepted not without pouting.

Ona supports Lucy’s gaze when she gently takes her face in her hands, observing her attentively for a few seconds.

"That’s what I thought. Tired, but still beautiful"

Ona laughs softly as she hears her, her giggles causing as every time strange tickles in the pit of Lucy’s stomach. Using their position, Lucy delicately draws Ona’s face against hers to unfold a kiss on her lips.

Without losing a second, Ona puts her arms around her neck and it takes them only a fraction of a second to get lost both in their embrace. Forgetting that they are not in the security of their apartment, their many kisses eventually lead them to Ona's bed who doesn't hesitate to rid Lucy of her sweatshirt before starting to kiss her again.

It's only when the door of the room reopens that the two young women regain consciousness of things. But it’s obviously already too late. Luckily, both are still dressed.

"Ona?!"

Needless to say, Aitana didn't expect to find her roommate in an intense makout session. Especially since she's supposed to be in a relationship and that her partner is in another hotel. But Ona barely has time to hear the amazement in Aitana’s voice and to see the surprised look of Alexia behind her, before Lucy gets up a little under her, revealing her identity to the other two young women.

"Madre mía what's happening here?" asks Alexia

"You both are so in trouble" smirks Aitana.

"Shhh" makes Ona while leaning forward, to be sure that the door of the room is properly closed.

********

It took long minutes of discussion for Lucy and Ona to find themselves alone in the room, Aitana going to sleep with Alexia for the night. Even if the Catalan knows perfectly well that she will have the right to be teased until the end of the Games, she doesn't care if it allows her to spend a night in her girlfriend's arms.

"Ona?" gently makes Lucy

It takes a few seconds for the Spanish to react, her mind a little shut between the recovery after their intense and long reunion and the caresses that Lucy makes with her fingertips along her spine column. Not to mention the regular heartbeat of Lucy right under her ear that lulls her.

"Mh?" ended up answering Ona in a bewitched voice, without opening her eyes.

"Why did you seem worried earlier?"

"You know how Aitana can be when she’s surprised. I already saw Jenni coming and if she knows, everyone will know" says Ona mumbling, burying her face in her girlfriend’s belly. "They will tease me for all the rest of the stay tho"

"Yeah, I know" laughs Lucy gently before talking again. "But that’s not what I was thinking about."

Lucy feels Ona’s eyebrows frown against her skin before the fullback turns her face so she can look at her.

"I don’t understand then" Ona said, looking closely at Lucy’s face.

"When you came to open the door earlier, you seemed worried"

"Oh"

In a few seconds Ona’s mind goes back to what she thought at that moment, the constant discomfort and worry that inhabited the Spanish players. The surprise visits in the rooms, supposedly to check that their environment was healthy, diets without any senses, comments displaced and degrading in front of others… If the players came together - at least most of them - it was a lot of fun for the high-ranking players and their little friends.

Ona and Lucy had been dating for a few months when Ona went to training camps with the national team and then during the World Cup. If Ona had already told her parents and her brother about the situation, Lucy knew nothing about it until the Spanish woman told her about it one evening on the phone, after a particularly hard day morally.

Lucy’s reaction was as strong as her surprise and it actually happened to Ona not to tell her everything so as not to push her concern too much, wishing that her girlfriend could focus as much as possible on her own career.

But Ona’s silence is far from reassuring Lucy, who stands up on her elbows in bed, forcing Ona to also sit on her legs.

"Did something happen again?"

"No" assures Ona, shaking her head. "Promised"

Tenderly smiling, Ona gently caress her girlfriend’s cheeks with her fingertips. The green eyes of the English look at her carefully, seeking to detect the slightest sign that could tell her the opposite of what Ona claims. Understanding that it will take more for Lucy to be reassured, Ona sits on her legs before resuming the speech.

"It’s not as bad as before. I just wondered who it could be and it reminded me of what we were going through before this summer."

Lucy’s frowning doesn't seem to relax but the other brunette has a little trouble understanding why. Ona doesn’t need to open her mouth though, as Lucy ends up answering her questions with a small sigh.

"I know how you think and I know you probably didn’t tell me everything so I wouldn’t worry anymore" said Lucy, Ona blushing at it. "But I think it worries me even more. I need to know, Ona."

It’s hard for Ona to deny Lucy anything in general, but when she looks at her that way, it’s almost impossible. It's Ona’s turn to sigh softly, watching her girlfriend attentively. The latter rises to sit in turn, a hand in the back of Ona to prevent her falling because of her movement.

"I know that you want to do well and that you seek to protect me, but I too need to protect you"

"Okay" sighs softly Ona after a few extra seconds of hesitation.

After a smile, Lucy tenderly puts her lips on those of Ona, sealing the promise made.

"I don’t know how I’m going to let you go tomorrow morning" said Ona, after Lucy lay down again, taking her against her. "Maybe I’ll lock you up here until the Games are over."

Lucy laughs softly, trying to ignore the breath of Ona who tickles her neck when she speaks.

"Why don’t you start by getting rid of your apartment in Barcelona instead? It’s useless except to store furniture. Coco must have slept there four times since you got her"

Ona smiles softly at the evocation of her dog, guarded by her favorite cousins. Her parents had made the trip to Paris to see her play, it would not have made sense for them to keep her.

"Maybe yes" thoughtfully say Ona by mechanically sliding her finger on Lucy's arm.

"If you don't want to..."

"No! I want it. I'm just wondering how I can put all my stuff in your apartment. Maybe I "

"Well... Maybe we can look for a bigger one?" ask Lucy before adding when she feels Ona freeze before looking at her. "Like our apartment or maybe house so when can have a garden for the dogs"

"I'd love that" Ona smiles despite her eyes fogged with tears.

Lucy smiles and kiss her sweetly. Ona doesn’t know yet that Lucy has already unconsciously looked at apartments and houses in the neighborhood in which they already live, but it is a secret that she will tell her when they are both on vacation in Fiji.

The most urgent thing is to get Lucy out of the hotel before everyone gets up the next morning. They will have only slept a few hours, but it is well worth it in the opinion of the two young women. Their separation is only brief now, but that won’t stop them from spending long minutes saying goodbye, just like the day Lucy flew to the training camp with the England team.

"See you soon Superstar" Lucy whispers against Ona’s lips, smiling and feeling her smile against her lips.

"Shut up" smiled Ona before putting a new kiss against her lips.

Managed to leave the Spanish hotel without being spotted, it's facing Mary and Alessia walking for their morning walk that Lucy finds herself arriving in the English hotel. Long story short, it's not only Ona who will be teased until the end of the Games.

[dawn-moths]

"Birthday Wishes"

Undertaker x Female Reader

word count: 3,700+

(@fanfictionsworld requested: spending your birthday with Undertaker from my Cause to Start a Vendetta AU.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! fluff with some smut at the end, oral sex (reader receiving), use of the word “Daddy”, reader is called “princess, baby, sweetheart”.

*ao3 mirror*

***

You’d been counting down the days for weeks now, your birthday circled on the calendar with a big pink glitter gel pen heart several times over, every day crossed off that crawled closer to the day— your day— making you more and more excited.

Because, as you’d quickly grown accustomed to being spoiled by Undertaker— special occasion or otherwise— your birthday was no exception to being showered with all the love and luxury he had at his disposal.

“Morning, princess…” he cooed, gently smoothing down some of your sleep-tousled hair with a big, cool palm, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you blinked open beary eyes, wrapped in his arms and the many layers of blankets that twisted and tangled about your bodies sprawled across the bed.

“Morning, Daddy…” you replied, voice soft and delicate as the lingering dredges of slumber clung to your tone, an angelic little grin curving up on your sweet lips as you nuzzled closer into Undertaker’s chest, seeking out his elusive warmth.

For a moment, nearly forgetting what today was as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your figure filling with the heavy weight of sleep once more, your eyelids fluttered closed and your breathing began to turn slow and shallow. Undertaker rubbed a hand up and down your back, stirring you back to the waking world and smiling to himself as you let out a big yawn, nose scrunching adorably with the expression.

“If you want to go back to sleep,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your nose and causing a fragile giggle to bubble up in your chest, “I won’t stop you. But that would certainly be a shame when we have so many fun things on our to-do list today.”

That was enough to entice you, your mind suddenly much more alert than before, and you snaked your arms up to gently rest over his shoulders. “Just a few more minutes…” you said, pressing yourself even closer to him, wishing you could bask in the safety of his touch forever. “Then I promise I’ll get up.”

A smooth, sonorous chuckle vibrated through his bones, the sound warming you from the inside out like hot milk and honey. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, allowing himself to melt back to a more relaxed state as well. “Just a few more minutes…”

As the sun crept further through the cracks of the curtains, bright beams painting the ornate master bedroom with thin strokes of gold, stirring up the wispy clouds of dust motes swirling through the air, Undertaker coaxed you into finally rising, draping one of his big, fluffy black robes over your shoulders when you became burdened with a chill, the mansion’s usual temperature kept low upon his preference.

Once your feet were dressed in your favorite pair of fluffy socks and even fluffier slippers, you took Undertaker’s hand and let him guide you down the wide halls to the curving staircase, heading towards the kitchen where you could already smell your special birthday breakfast.

The long dining table was decorated to the nines with all kinds of balloon bouquets and bundles of black and white roses overflowing from crystal vases. Spelled out in gold glitter confetti at one end of the display was HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRINCESS punctuated by a big heart. At the other was a full selection of all your breakfast favorites— souffle pancakes piled high with bananas and melty chocolate chips, strawberry french toasts drizzled with sticky maple syrup and sprinkled with a frosty snowfall of powdered sugar, fluffy scrambled eggs and yogurt parfaits and fruit arranged by color.

You sucked in a gasp of delight, hands clasped before your chest as you eagerly surveyed the scene, looking up at your Daddy like he’d outdone himself.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he said, extending a hand towards the chair at the head of the table— his usual chair, the master’s chair, the dining room’s throne— and pulling it out for you to sit in, taking the seat adjacent to it to join you in the morning’s sugary culinary experience.

Over the meal— you choosing a bit of everything to pile onto your plate in an orderly array, because why should you have to choose just one when today you could have whatever your little heart desired— you and Undertaker began to discuss the day’s itinerary.

There was a packed schedule planned indeed— a shopping outing at all your most beloved designer stores, afternoon tea at the Ritz, exploring some of the artsy nooks and crannies of the city and dropping into your favorite bookstore all before hopping on the Aurora Society’s private jet and taking the hour and a half flight to your favorite five star restaurant in Paris, sure to end the evening by enjoying your usual penthouse suit of the expensive hotel that gave the best view among any of the establishments around.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Undertaker slyly prompted just as you were about to head upstairs to get changed and ready for the events ahead, thoughts already spinning trying to decide what you wanted to wear. You stopped and considered him with an adorably cute expression for a moment until he pulled a big gift bag from under the table where he’d hidden it from you, the glossy black packaging stuffed with glittering silver tissue paper and two perfect satin ribbons serving as the handles. “You know,” he shrugged as he slid it towards you on the table, drinking in your awe, never growing tired of how easily you seemed to be innocently surprised sometimes, “just in case you felt like going out in something new.”

Carefully, as if the wrapping itself was just as valuable as the gift, you plucked the sparkling tissue paper away to uncover the pristinely wrapped box beneath, a marbling of glossy and matte black swirling over the decorative paper like ink dropped into water. The moment the first half of your favorite clothing brand’s name was visible to you, you shot him a glance, as if to say, “you shouldn’t have” despite believing down to your very core that you deserved every expensive, extravagant thing that Undertaker placed in your cute little lap.

Once you lifted the garment from where it had been perfectly folded within its box, holding it up to your body as if to sample how it would look before trying it on, you heard Undertaker sigh, a dreamy, lilting hum tailing off the end of it. “Exquisite…” he remarked, and you now held the dress out from your body, studying the intricate craftsmanship that had been hand stitched into the garment as you smiled to yourself, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It really is.”

But then Undertaker was by your side, having moved soundlessly, his even stride gliding across the short distance to meet you. “I wasn’t talking about the dress,” he murmured, big hands settling on your hips. “Now, why don’t you head upstairs and start getting ready.”

You turned your face up to his, met his lips when he was close enough for a kiss, and muttered out a sweet little, “Thank you, Daddy,” before following his instruction and heading for the staircase.

He watched you go, saw the skip in your step as you ventured off, only returning to clearing the table once you disappeared down the long second story hallway and out of his view. He was going to look forward to taking that dress off of you later, unwrapping you like his own special gift by the time night draped itself over the sky.

***

The afternoon had been like a dream, you and your lover floating from one location to the next to try on extravagant clothing and sample imported teas, the two of you practically waltzing through the downtown streets where you longed to see what new installments the local London artists put up around the city before you’d lost track of time perusing your favorite bookstore, a good two hours going by without you even noticing as you strategically searched for the next story to get yourself hooked on.

But as the sky began to fade from blue to gold, it signaled that dinner was soon approaching, which meant you two had a plane to catch if you wanted to arrive to your reservation on time.

The hostess greeted you two with a friendly smile, addressing you both by name, the entire restaurant staff made familiar with London’s most notorious boss and the beautiful girl who was always on his arm, Undertaker making short, lighthearted conversation with the manager in French while they crossed paths on the walk to your usual table, the man chuckling at something your Daddy had said, forever able to charm anyone if he set his mind to it, it seemed.

As you both enjoyed the delicacies of the six course meal, you continued to talk and laugh, never running out of topics to converse about, though tonight you were most excited to tell him all about the book you’d recently finished and your expectations for the new one you’d chosen on your earlier excursion, having heard nothing but praise for the acclaimed tale.

Once the horizon had lost its lilac blush and sunk deep into the velvet navy of nightfall though, you knew you were just about to enter into yet another phase of your luxurious birthday festivities.

***

You could smell the roses from down the hall before the doors to your hotel suite in Paris even opened. The entirety of the three connected rooms were decked from floor to ceiling in at least one hundred thousand dollars worth of florals, vibrant reds and sultry blacks, flawless creams and even a dash of lovely soft pinks.

You could’ve cried at how gorgeous it all was, blinking the mist from your eyes as you spun in slow circles about the place, taking it all in. Undertaker’s hands found your shoulders to steady you, stopping your awestruck turns to face the beautiful birthday cake on the hotel room’s center table, the special dessert shaped like a heart and iced in a rainbow of your favorite colors, several candles placed strategically on the top and already lit, small flames glowing and beckoning you over to make a wish.

But what could you possibly wish for when you already had everything you’d ever want or need— a gorgeous man who loved you, showering you in every stunning thing life had to offer, as simple as the snap of his fingers or a wave of his hand— besides to continue living this blessed life that had found its way to you, through trial and tribulation?

Taking a few steps forward towards the cake, you choked out through a shaky breath, “Oh my god…” unable to hold back your tears any longer, a few sparkling drops running down your cheeks, glittering like gold as they caught the amber of the flickering firelight. You looked back at Undertaker, who was not far behind you, and wondered if you’d ever be able to convey how much this all meant to you. It almost seemed unfair. He’d always be able to do more for you than you would for him, though he never seemed to mind.

For him, just having you— his sweet, precious baby girl to dote on and adore as much as he pleased— was far more than enough. All you had to do was exist. All you had to do was be his.

“Well, go on,” he lightly urged, a calm smile playing at the corner of his lips as he gestured towards the center table. “The candles won’t blow themselves out, now will they?”

You smiled, big and bright, and let out a sound that could only be described as pure joy. Undertaker was addicted to that sound, the way it rang out like the delicate jingle of bells, the way it warmed him like the sun’s rays after so much rain. It made everything he’d ever done, good, bad, or somewhere in between, all worth it. Just to see you smile at him like that, just to hear you laugh. Just to know it was him who’d been the orchestrator of such emotions.

And as you let out a strong gust of a breath, turning each melting birthday candle from flame to smoke, you realized you did have one wish you wanted to make afterall.

Let things be like this forever, you thought to yourself, like a silent prayer. Let us stay as in love for the rest of our lives as we are right now, in this moment.

Undertaker cut the cake, a piece for you and a piece for him, and then the two of you sat by the counter outlooking the spotless floor to ceiling windows that gave way to the sprawling view of the City of Light, the night sky clear and sparkling with little bursts of silver stars overhead.

You talked and joked and laughed while you both enjoyed your dessert, your chair pressed right next to his, close enough that you could lean your head over to rest against the side of his shoulder while his arm slung across your back, hugging you closer to him, his most cherished treasure.

“You know…” you began, gazing dreamily out the window at the romantic scene the city offered. Then, casting him a glance from where you were nestled into his side, you said, “I think this might really be the best birthday ever.”

Something in his eyes softened a shade then, and in response Undertaker lightly took your chin between his lithe fingers, tilting your mouth just ever so slightly upwards so he could lean down to meet it. You hadn’t expected the kiss, languid and savoring at first as you parted your lips to let him in, both of you tasting like your favorite flavor of cake, soon turning more hungry, having you straddling his lap and blinded by the blissful haze that was slowly filling you from the inside out.

When he finally broke away, leaned back just far enough to look you in the eyes, gently wiping the cool pad of his thumb across the plush of your bottom lip, glossy from your mingled saliva, a weak attempt to clean you up a bit, he said, “I guess that means I’ll have to go above and beyond next year,” and you laughed and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you felt yourself relax over him.

“No, but really…” you murmured. “Thank you, Daddy. For everything. Always.”

All you got as a warning for what happened next was a low, lilting chuckle humming in his chest before he was hoisting you up, big hands splayed against the backs of your thighs as he began to carry you elsewhere in the suite.

“Where are we going?” you playfully asked, though you already had a pretty good idea.

“There’s still a few hours until midnight,” he remarked, a new kind of vigor in his voice and stride. He set you down on the edge of the king-sized bed, beginning to shrug off his jacket and tug his belt buckle free of its loops as he added, “Which means your birthday’s not over yet, princess.”

The smirk that spread across his face then made that fluttering creature resting in your lower belly roll over inside of you, beginning to wake, soon asking to be satisfied like a dog scratching at the door begging for treats, relentless until it was given its desired reward. It wasn’t long before Undertaker was hooking his grip under your thighs again, pulling you further down the bed where he then knelt at the foot of it.

You gave him an uncertain and slightly suspicious look as he flicked his emerald gaze up to meet yours. Usually, he liked to undress you, strip you down piece by piece before ridding himself of his own clothing, admiring every inch of your bare body like it was the most masterful work of art. Then he’d pin you down, his prized butterfly, and get to work at soaking both your bodies with pleasure before wringing them dry, squeezing you for every last lustful drop he could.

But tonight— on your night— he figured he’d do things a little differently. Give you one last birthday surprise before the clock struck twelve.

“Just relax, sweetheart…” he cooed, carefully bunching your new dress up around your waist, exposing the expensive lace clinging to the most delicate parts of you and drinking in the sight like it rivaled even that of the one just beyond the windows. “Let Daddy make you feel good…”

Undertaker pressed gentle kisses to the soft raise of your lower belly, and you felt your tight little hole futter and your sensitive bud pulse as he slowly removed your panties, your already damp core causing them to cling to you a moment before the cool air sighed against your damp slit.

Undertaker ran a long finger through your dewy folds, making your next breath catch as he slipped it inside of you to gather more of your slick before rubbing it against your puffy clit, already swollen with arousal, pulling one of those adorable whines from your throat as you lay one arm over your eyes, the other sprawled out across the bed, little fingers twisting into the sheets, trying to grab hold of anything while you still had the chance.

“That’s it, baby…” he praised, helping to spread you wider for him, a leg thrown over one of his broad shoulders as he continued to tease you. His next words sent a puff of his warm breath against your cunt, and you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation, exhaling a shuddering sigh. He whispered, “I’m gonna take good care of you, baby,” and when he licked a flat-tongued stripe up your pussy, you let out a soft, broken whine, back already beginning to arch a little at the sinfully sweet feel of him.

Undertaker was skilled at a lot of things— running a business, making money, getting away with murder— but the thing you thought he was best at, above all else, was pleasuring you.

It was effortless, the way he knew exactly what to do that made you body bend to his command, melting your mind until all you knew was the press of his hips or the wet warmth of his mouth, the indents of his teeth, his fingerprints, all of it branded into you so no matter where you looked on your own body there would be a reminder of him, like a promise, a gift.

You were clenching the silky sheets in your trembling fist as he speared his tongue into you, his sharp nose nudging against your clit every time and forcing moan after delicious, high-pitched moan out of you like that was the only sound you’d ever known how to make. If he thought your laugh was syrupy sweet, then your moans were something else entirely, something far more addicting or satisfying than sticky, sickly sweet sugar. More like a drug to him, making him addicted in a way that, once he got a taste, he couldn’t stop. Not until you had nothing left to give, his pursuit at seeing just how far or how long he could make you go merciless time and time again.

“P-please—” you sobbed, the new veil of tears that had welled in your eyes causing your lashes to clump and spike together with every fluttering roll of your eyes back into your head. His pace was voracious, wanting to devour you down to your very core. You could barely get half a broken plea out before it was interrupted by a surrendering mewl or a soundless gasp, mouth hung open in ecstasy before he prepared to shatter you. “Please— I’m gonna—”

But before you could even speak the last word of your sentence, let alone remember it, Undertaker had you coming undone, unraveling you like a frayed thread on a silk scarf, pulling you apart until there was nothing left but a tangle of string he could then rearrange into any shape he pleased.

Your chest rose and fell with short, shallow, panting breaths, rigid form relaxing back into the mattress, body gone all pliable and boneless once the remaining tension melted away. Meanwhile, Undertaker pressed gentle kisses to the sensitive insides of your stained thighs, palms gently petting you as you drifted down from the high and back into the garden of Eden he’d planted, nurtured, and grown just for you.

Normally, he’d barely give you enough time to recover before commencing round two, but, as he seemed to be a little more patient with you on this most special of days, he allowed your heart to slow to a steady rhythm and your breathing to smooth out into even inhales and exhales before shifting over you, darting out his tongue to lick at his own lips to catch one last obscene taste of you before wiping away your glistening arousal from the bottom half of his pale face with the back of his hand.

As he stared down at you through half-lidded eyes, the vibrant green of them almost glowing through the dim dark of the bedroom, he said, as if only to himself, “Just look at you… So gorgeous… My beautiful girl…” as he helped free you the rest of the way from your pretty birthday dress, mindfully folding it and placing it on the nearest bedside drawer so it didn’t get ruined.

Because he did intend to ruin you.

He intended to ruin you in all the right ways.

As he shed his own clothing like a black-skinned snake, all those silvery scars wrapped around alabaster flesh now on full display, you reached out for him, wanting, craving, needing to feel the press of his body back on yours before the ebbing pleasure made you drift off to dreamland. Though, with Undertaker, reality could often feel like a dream, so perfect your conscious mind almost struggled to comprehend it was real at times.

But, as he began to lean back over you, your fingers interlocked as he pressed your hands down into the comforter on either side of your head, both your legs thrown over his shoulders to have you splayed wide and vulnerable for him, just the way he liked you, one thing was for certain. Undertaker had been ahead of himself when he’d said he’d have to find a way to outdo your birthday next year. After tonight, you had no idea how things could get any better than this.

***

(Hello and thank you so much to @fanfictionsworld for your request! I hope I did it justice and thank you for being so patient with me while you waited for it. I know you’ve been following me for quite some time and I always recognize you when I see you pop up in my notifs, so it was truly a pleasure getting to write for you <3

Also want to give a big thank you to everyone else for reading as well! I hope you enjoyed and I hope you have a wonderful day!)

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Hello! I hope this ask fond you well!! I'm not exactly new to your blog, but this is my first time hoping to request? Though before that I was just hoping to ask of you'd write for Master Kohga?

i am so whipped for that guy ngl- *cough*

Of course! Master Kohga, as I'm finding out, has charmed his way into the hearts of a lot of people! And I honestly love that for him, he's such a goofball.

I wasn't sure what kind of request you wanted, but I had a little something in mind! Sorry this took so long. Final season is upon me so I've been swamped but I'm almost done!

---

"C'mon! C'MON! You said you were gonna be done soon with my surprise!" came the impatient prattling of your superior. His foot tapped away just outside of the kitchen door, a few foot soldiers watching from afar their boss's restlessness. You rolled your eyes as your mittens retrieved the warm delight from the oven before you.

Grateful were you to have such a thing at the Yiga hideout, it seemed as though cooking things was not a strong suit amongst the clan. Not that you felt it was your responsibility...but admittedly you did grow tired of eating banana-centric things all the time - so teaching some of your more eager Yiga clanmates how to cook actual meals proved to be useful. As you set down the baked good on the nearby table, you let the irony of banana being your focus slide off of you, pride settling in instead.

In all of its saccharine glory was the most appetizing banana upside down cake you've ever made: with a layer of browned sugar and sweet caramel glaze over a dense, but rich cake that was sure to have the clan fighting for slices. You were in thought about how long you should wait to let the cake cool before piping on the vanilla whipped cream you'd made, but a pair of hands clapped over your shoulders and immediately moved you to jump.

"YUMMY!" exclaimed Master Kohga, his masked head leaning over your shoulder, "Was this what you had me waiting for?! Ooooh can we cut it now? Please? Please?!"

The Yiga clan leader bounced on his heels with childlike delight, nearly drooling at the mouth beneath his mask at the aroma of the confection wafting through every crevice it could creep through. Allowing your heart to calm down a bit from the sudden fright Master Kohga gave you, you willed your self to let out an exasperated laugh,

"We should probably let it cool first, Master Kohga, sir."

"Oh, what, is it too hot? Don't worry about that, I'll take care of it."

His hands quickly removed themselves from your shoulders, the sound of swift hand movements just behind your ears before a subtle chilly mist blew over your shoulders, the heat of the cake cooling down immediately as soon as a few puffs of the frosty air hit it. Blinking, you quietly took a knife and carved out a piece for your boss, plating it in astonishment at the fact that he thought to so quickly use magic to bring your piping hot dessert to a comfortable, edible temperature.

Clapping, Master Kohga grabbed the plate with excitement, lifting his mask an inconsequential amount, allowing him to shovel the cake into his mouth at a whirlwind pace. Before you even had the opportunity to ask how it was, the plate was shoved into your face,

"Another!" he chirped, still chewing through his last bite.

A new wave of pride soared through you; clearly Master Kohga found your creation delicious, and it filled you with joy to hear his smacks and small, thrilled noises as he ate his second piece.

"Ahhh" he exhaled, adjusting his mask back into place after inhaling his second piece. Master Kohga took occupancy in a nearby seat, leaning back and balancing on the chairs legs, "You know you're my favorite, right?"

The thrum in your chest almost blew your cover of the blush that threatened to creep up on your face. Swiftly you turned to grab some extra plates from your cabinet for your clanmates. Now was not the time for your tiny, miniscule, insignificant crush on your boss to surface. So, with some quick thinking you decided to instead scoff playfully, "How many Yiga soldiers have you said that to, sir?"

But your teasing question wasn't met with the answer you expected. Instead of Master Kohga's jovial laughter of 'being caught' or a defensive 'Hey!'...you were met instead with silence.

"Just you."

You fingers gripped the plates in white-knuckled anxiety, and you turned to your boss who sat upright now. Though it was difficult to often gauge where his eyes were from behind that mask, you were deadly sure they were burning into you right at this moment. The air in your lungs held stagnant, that blush you tried to hold back now wisping across your cheeks and neck.

"I mean it," he continues, "You're my favorite."

Suddenly he's before you, and you realize how much smaller you are compared to his stature when he's not slouching. His hand drapes over yours for a brief moment,

"Wouldn't have any reason to lie about that neither"

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, blood pumping in your ears as your bewildered expression looked up at the never-changing painted eye of his Yiga mask. Next you knew, Master Kohga had one of the plates in your hands between his fingers, hurling the disc effortlessly toward the kitchen door. It was caught with ease by a footsoldier, who meekly shrunk into himself once he realized he willingly came out of hiding.

"It's rude to eavesdrop you know!" Master Kohga shouted, stomping his foot.

Four other Yiga clansmen appeared next to the first, straightening up at attention for their superior.

"Sir!" one of them spoke, "We're sorry sir, we just...the smell of bananas and sugar was so strong we couldn't help it..."

The sigh Master Kohga let out was akin to a father who had just caught his children stealing cookies from the jar, "Well hurry up then before I decide you don't get any."

A raucous cheer sounded in the kitchen, the soldiers lining up for slices and taking plates carefully from your hands.

You, on the other hand, were still trying to process Master Kohga's words against the sounds of pleased chewing and eager appreciation. When you finally came to your senses you scanned the room to see your Yiga brethren still enjoying their cake and chattering amongst themselves about their day so far.

Master Kohga was nowhere to be seen.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

i was just reading a fic where someone said they needed to set aside their pasta dough "to rise", and that made my eye twitch badly enough that i would like to give you all a quick lesson about dough for all your writing needs.

without getting into fussy details, there are four basic types of dough/batter. yeasted doughs, quick breads, laminated/pastry doughs, and unleavened doughs.

the only one of those that ever needs to rise is yeasted dough.

yeasted doughs are, as the name suggests, leavened with yeast. yeast is a microorganism that, when activated in water, feeds on sugars to produce gas. that gas, when trapped in dough, creates bubbles. most breads are yeasted, as are things like bagels, rolls, pizza crust, soft pretzels, english muffins, etc. yeasted doughs are also typically made by kneading, a process that develops the sticky gluten in wheat and makes the dough strong enough to hold onto itself and gives a pleasantly chewy result. (sourdough is also yeasted, but it's made by capturing wild yeast from the air rather than using prepackaged yeast.)

quick breads are leavened with baking soda and/or baking powder. these agents do not need rise time, as the chemical reaction happens when they are introduced to water/acid and heat. muffins, pancakes, cake, and sweet breads like banana, pumpkin, and zucchini are quick breads, and not only are they not kneaded, they shouldn't be overworked. overworking activates the gluten in the wheat, which isn't desired in these soft, tender breads. cookies and brownies would go under this umbrella as well.

laminated/pastry dough is leavened by thin layers of cold butter reaching a quick boiling point and releasing a steam that separates the layers of dough. this effect can be most clearly seen in something like a croissant, though croissants are also yeasted. pie crusts, most biscuits (the american kind), scones, and many other types of pastries are made this way. any time a recipes instructs you to "cut" butter into flour, this is what you're doing. phyllo, the type of dough used to make baklava, uses a similar process where oil or melted butter is brushed between paper-thin sheets of dough.

unleavened dough is exactly that, unleavened. there is nothing in this dough that makes it rise. pasta, many crackers, some flatbreads like tortillas - they don't rise at all. you do, on the other hand, typically have to let it rest for at least fifteen minutes, as the mixing of the dough creates elastic gluten strands that will resist attempts to roll it out.

special mention: whipped egg whites. when eggs are whipped into stiff peaks, they become filled with air, and some recipes use whipped egg whites folded carefully into batter as a leavener. angel food cake, for example, is leavened with nothing but egg whites. many cake recipes use this technique, as it creates a very light and delicate result.

SO. please take this knowledge and incorporate it in your writing as you will. thank you. <3

ps: things that are gluten free never require kneading, as there is no gluten to develop. gluten free baking is an alchemy which i do not pretend to understand.

[13thdoctorposts]

Michelle Gomez Panel

Please note this IS NOT word for word, but so you can get a general gist of the panel. Both Michelle and Sacha were hilarious.

Whovians of all ages got to ask Michelle questions.

This post is just Michelle’s panel I’ll make separate posts for them together and Sacha’s panel soon!

How’s your New Zealand accent?

Bad I only have one and it’s Scottish I’ve been working on it my entire life… so 27 years. Lol

What was your favourite episode of Doctor Who to film?

I went to set and there was an army Daleks of every variety, and I stuck my 8 year old son in one and they started filming and I didn’t know were he was just that he in was in a Dalek.

Would you like to be in the new series of Doctor Who?

Hell yes, I’m just waiting for the call.

In Who and Sabrina you play a define feminine who was wronged by others what was your motivation to play these kind of villains?

With my face it’s hard not to plays witches and bitches and I long to play a character called Alison but Madam it is. I want to make sure I’m not just playing bad, I believe people are the way they are because of their experiences, so what makes them bad? That’s what interests me in the characters.

Did you like sitting on the throne of hell in Sabrina?

I loved sitting on it and wish I could have taken it home, I would have made room for it.

Did you Ad lib much in Doctor Who?

Steven Moffatt is a phenomenal writer so there’s not much you could add to it. But sometimes on the day something would fit. But Moffatt wrote to my strengths so I didn’t feel I needed to.

Why did you want to help the Doctor?

There’s a thing called a frenemy, keep your enemy’s close. They were originally friends and like all relationships they go through good times and bad times and sometimes they go their different ways. The master went to the dark side and the Doctor went to that other side. I was trying to bring in the nuance to that relationship

If you make it to the new series will you still help the Doctor?

No

If you put Missy and Lilith in a room together would they plot world domination or try to kill each other?

I think they would try each others costumes on. Once I wanted to bust of of Missy’s costume and it was hot so I took the top layer off and thought I’d just wear the petty coats in the scene, and Steven Moffatt was like… what are you doing? This is a children’s show, put your clothes back on. Lol. Lilith got lots of incredible costumes.

Being the last of the Timelords do you think the Master and the Doctor ever had a child?

Wow, I don’t know, I’m not sure the Doctor and the Master have those bits. They’re like Barbie and Ken. The first thing you do with a figurine of yourself is check.

What would you have changed about Missy’s costume?

I don’t think it could have been more Missy, it was a phenomenal image. It sent the message that Mary Poppin’s was the most evil woman in the Universe. There was a corset and after lunch I did hate the costume.

How did you get the role of Missy?

I was offered another part but I was doing psycho bitches at the time so I wrote to Steven Moffatt if you need a villainess I’m your man. Then a couple months later my agent called, said to sit down and that Steven was offering me the role of the Master, I was blown away. I might have planted the seed, I’d like to take credit for it.

If you could travel with any other Doctor and torment them who would it be?

Tom Baker

Do you like being the villain of Doctor Who?

I do. If anyone is listening I do, I would like to come back, stop fucking around, I’m available.

There’s episodes with multiple Doctors why can’t we have multiple Masters?

Because there’s only one! Although Sacha is quite good, I like Sacha.

Were you nervous the first time you were on TV?

Yeah, that was a long time ago on a show called The Bill and I played a ticket warden. The director said to do a banana around the car and slap a ticket on the window. I didn’t know what a ‘banana’ was so I acted like I was slipping on a banana, landed on the ground, the crew looked at me and I just jumped up and they told me what I actually needed to do.

What was your favourite part of being chaotic and fun with your Missy?

They let me piss about with focus, I could be physically free, I could dance and bounce a lot.

Can you share a funny moment on Doctor Who?

I was nervous, it was my first day, Peter and Jenna were there, when I get nervous I over compensate so I grabbed Peter, it’s like I go into some kind of black out, I threw him against the wall and snogged him, had my hand behind my back, because I knew that would make a nice visual, Jenna Coleman took my hand, that was my first 5 mins, it was weird.

What was it like being on set with Peter?

When I was younger I’d see Peter around and he was so cool like the David Bowie of paisley. And I looked up to him. When we started working together I felt like I already knew him, we had an instant short hand, so we crack each other up.

Shouting from the back…

Sacha: Oh so boring!

Michelle: SECURITY, SECURITY!

*Coming soon… there will be a part 2 with both of them and 3 with Sacha… I just don’t have time to post now.

[pommedepersephone]

I feel like I'm the only one in the Good Omens fandom who doesn't get the subtext behind the "aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear" quote. Do you have thoughts to share on what it means to you?

Ooooh do I. This is probably one of my favorite lines in all of Good Omens. And that is saying something because I'm one of those with an old dog-eared copy of the book AND the S1 script book, both full of underlines (don't tell Aziraphale, he'd be horrified). So, here is my unhinged passionate explanation of what that line means to me, and how I think it actually applies to multiple moments through S2, specifically moments where there is some kind of performance/deception taking place. I will try to keep this only marginally long, so I will break down the three moments I think are MOST important, and then sum it all up at the end. Ready? Here we go!

What the line means in 1941

"Aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear" clearly applies to the mechanisms of the bullet catch in S2E4, so let's start there. What does the bullet catch tell us about their relationship? First, they are always being watched. By humans (the audience) but also by their respective sides (in this case Hell). Second, they have to pretend they don’t know each other but still have ways to communicate throughout their charade. Third, they HAVE to trust one another. Like, a LOT because - Fourth, their relationship puts them both in danger.

In this context, the line is really interesting because the idea of aiming for the mouth and shooting past the ear can also be interpreted as speaking and acting in ways that either pacify or confuse those watching, but that clearly communicate to one another. There is SOMETHING about the fact that in the presence of the Nazis Crowley speaks very plainly but in a way only Aziraphale would REALLY understand - “If the bomb does land here, it would take a real miracle for my friend and I to survive it” - yet when they are being watched unaware the line that the Nazis manage to get is “banana, fish, gorilla, shoelace with dash of nutmeg” because never, not even alone, do they speak in a completely straightforward manner. This does not mean they do not communicate, it means they communicate in their own language.

What the line means in Job

But wait! There is MORE! Because 1941 isn’t the first time we’ve seen these two perform for an audience! "Aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear" also applies in Job. There is one big difference - at the start of the story, Crawley is performing alone. He is saying all the right demonic things - "I want to. I long to destroy the blameless children of blameless Job, just as I destroyed his blameless goats." And at first, Aziraphale is in the audience, unaware of the sleight of hand taking place in front of him. But Crawley offers to read him in by showing him… the crows. And Aziraphale ends up stepping into the roll of magician’s assistant as Crawley works to save Job’s kids, human and otherwise.

What I find interesting is the way you can think about mouths and ears here - Crawley lets him hear the crows bleat (shoot past my ear) which lets Aziraphale understand who Crawley really is. Then Crawley offers him the ox rib (aim for my mouth) which in some ways makes Aziraphale begin to actually examine who HE is. Both are necessary if they are going to eventually become An Us, and it really starts here, with Job.

What the line means in the Final Fifteen

By the time we get to present-day S2 “Aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear” has taken on such a deep meaning for these two man-shaped beings. Their communication is so rich and layered, where they speak in metaphors and puns and have rituals like the I Was Wrong dance. I mean, just look at this silly little act of love -

I. Simply. Cannot. These two! They deeply enjoy one another. BUT this very complicated language they have developed together only works when they are ON THE SAME PAGE.

What happens in the Final Fifteen? They stop speaking the same language. For the sake of this analysis, we are assuming that Aziraphale is feeling threatened, and is aware that Metatron has ill intent, okay? Okay. In that context… just like 1941, they are AGAIN being watched (this time by Heaven), pretending they don’t know certain things about each other, need to trust each other and their relationship has put them in danger. But here is the kicker - they have slipped back into their roles from the start of Job, except reversed. They don’t have the same information and awareness. Fell the Marvelous is desperately putting on the performance of his life, and Crowley doesn’t even know they are on stage. There was no time for a backroom conversation to discuss the finer points of the trick. In the end, Crowley decides “fuck shooting past your ear, you aren’t hearing me."

And in the MOST devastating way possible, these two aimed for the mouth and shot right past each other's ears. Ouch. OUCH.

*Clears throat, dries eyes* in summary, this little line of poetry does a heavy lift for S2. It applies to scenes where a performance/sleight of hand is taking place, but it reads differently in each one. Importantly, "Aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear" only works out when they are properly partnering not pretendy partnering. If there is information withheld, or they aren't in agreement (this applies to Edinburgh toooooo) things just implode. They have to have TRUST for this to work.

Just in case I seem even remotely normal at this point, here is the little poem I wrote after watching S2 the first time, as the brainrot started to take real hold:

aim for my mouth and shoot past my ear

tell me the lines but show me your eyes

so i learn how hearts can hide truth in lies

here beside you

aim for my mouth and shoot past my ear

i promise to burn you if you hold the match

you walk through fire but i'll turn to ash

a shade grey for you

aim for my mouth and shoot past my ear

show me the words i can't seem to hear

give me something to hold as i go through my fear

and here return to you

[kingsmoot]

ahhh i sent this ask to wormlips accidentally i got confused by the wams pfps >_<. still i want to hear your opinion on this -- what do you think the ramsay's mom miller's wife was like as a person, have you any thoughts? and what do you think theon's lover miller's wife was like? also, on the horrible miller's wife multiverse, what's your opinion on the theory that the younger miller's boy was theon's bastard --- some reckon it adds an ironic what qualifies as kinslaying tragedy, others find it excessive and that it takes away from theon organically thinking about smallfolk and feeling regret unbefitting of his once-place on the social ladder.

ah what an honor to be mixed up w my friend @wormlips 🪳🩷🪱 who did btw answer this question here:

ok i will give you my first headcanon which is that ramsay's mom and the miller's wife of acorn water are the same woman. this is directly refuted by canon because theon's part time lover lives in acorn water while the woman roose rapes lives next to the weeping water stream. but genuinely idc. maybe she moved!! i think this being the same miller's wife adds a perfect layer of abject horror onto a very tall layer cake of abject horror after abject horror so this is a part of my belief system.

also sorry i think the theory that the miller's wife's children are theon's is ridiculous. maybe george can't do math but i can. and in this particular instance so can george, actually.

the boys theon killed were of an age with bran and rickon in acok. that would make them around 9 and 4, respectively. theon in acok is 19, so for both of them to have been his that means that he would have impregnated the miller's wife at age NINE and sixteen. that's bananas. this man was not banging the neighborhood milf at NINE. he would have JUST gotten to winterfell and more importantly he would have been NINE YEARS OLD.

i also don't think it's really implied at all. in fact in adwd theon even says that he's no kinslayer because he didn't really kill his baby brothers, bran and rickon, just some miller's sons...

and does this underscore the class divide in westeros? yes. but ALSO: ramsay was actually the one to kill them and cut off their faces otis driftwood style. and who is actually a kinslayer and has murdered one half brother already? wams. so i think it makes narrative sense if those kiddos that theon passed off as the corpses of bran and rickon were wams' half brothers. which he also would have known.

because like. i know "the cycles are cycling" is this website's full time greek choir chant but it's truuuuue. that's like rams' whole... thing. he is the culmination of roose's scorched earth cruelty. he will be the end of house bolton. he was made by the man he is destined to destroy. he will devour every last trace of this once great house. every prodigal son. every swaddling babe. every new bastard and every new heir. utter desolation. and he serves as the same kind of mirror to theon as he does to roose!! reflecting theon's cruelty, sexual violence, and lack of self back at him x1000. he is a reflection of the father and of his fellow rejected/abandoned son. he is the culmination of both of their mounting cruelty it's SO GOOD it's such a rich vein in the narrative 🥰

AND ADDITIONALLY it feels in character that wams-disguised-as-reek could have seen his mom when she sold ser rodrick hay on their way from the dreadfort to winterfell and she would not have said anything about wams being her child, roose bolton's bastard, for TWO reasons:

1. canonically, everyone and their dog and their dog's cousin and their dog's cousin's third aunt saw ramsay with his PIERCING WHITE SCLERA LENS EYES and BOTTLE BLACK HAIR after he was captured from THE FOREST SURROUNDING THE DREADFORT and thought "ok well that could mean anything" (can i just say. theon gets a lot of shit for this. which he deserves. but NO ONE ELSE GETS ANY SHIT AND I THINK THEY SHOULD. COME ON, GUYS. FUCK YOU IN PARTICULAR SER RODRICK.)

2. if she did recognize him (i think she would have) and she was his mama (i think she is) she would never ever ever ever give him up. she would have stayed silent.

why would i say so? because i really only have one thing to say about wamsay's mama which i've said before and which i'm never not thinking about. ramsay's mom, like cersei, has had everything taken from her. and the only way she can indirectly reclaim agency in this world is through what is given to her son.

she knew exactly what kind of man roose bolton was. she probably knew better and more intimately than most!! but she did not protect her son from him. just the opposite, she insisted that he claim him as his child. that he recognize his own. IT'S SO ROSEMARY'S BABY, LIKE.... BEAR WITNESS UNTO THAT WHICH YE HAVE WROUGHT, ROOSE!!!!! and then roose knows, of course. roose knows as soon as he sees that little boy that the child is his and he also knows exactly WHAT ramsay is. he knows that child will be the death of his house. but he also cannot refuse him!!! no man is so hated by the gods as the kinslayer!!! roose is bound to ramsay by blood!! chained to his own undoing by nature of being its creator!!

and then what does roose do?? puts a known murderer + serial rapist in charge of raising his own flesh and blood child. another thing that ramsay's mama does not protect him from. another thing she encourages, actually, because molding ramsay into a monster means he is more likely to get his due. her due. what is owed to him as the son of a great house. what is owed to her as a woman who had everything taken from her and no way to get any of it back. ANNIHILATION!!!

this got a little more word-vomity than i intended but i get too excited when i talk about this. it's like. good and interesting and important to me that ramsay's mama is not a blameless innocent victim who was brutalized and then did her best. she was brutalized and then she did everything in her power to make sure roose bolton got exactly what was coming to him. and she sacrificed her rape-baby to do it.

tysm for your question!

[checkoutmybookshelf]

I am...a Professor

I've been on a bit of a faerie kick lately, and Emily Wilde is one of my favorite human protagonists for fae books. She is objectively bad at people, but that's not unusual for academics in general. As a recovering academic, the fact that this book is about how bananas field work can go just tickled me. If you squint, there are echoes of Evy Carnahan from The Mummy in this book, and between that and the wintery vibes, this book was just a delight to read. Let's talk Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries.

Emily Wilde is a career academic whose career has been stalled by the fact that she is...straight-up bad at peopleing. Her saving grace is the solidity of her scholarship, which is why she rocks up to a rented cottage in Hrafnsvik with no grad students and no sense of how to take care of herself while in in the field. Our girl cannot split wood and doesn't so much as know how to bank a fire to stop herself from freezing to death overnight. She also accidentally manages to offend every single one of her hosts and the village headwoman, so she is in very real danger of freezing or starving to death by like chapter three.

And then Wendell Bambleby shows up on her doorstep with a pair of grad students and charm to spare.

Y'all...without giving too much away in spoiler territory, can I just say that I adore how Emily and Wendell are essentially two complimentary halves? Emily is all hardcore scholarship, the scientific method, and goal-focused to the exclusion of other people. Wendell is all flash, showmanship, people skills, and innate knowledge. They would be THE academic power couple at Cambridge...except that right from the get-go, Emily is not shy about telling us the Wendell is kind of a dumpster fire of an academic. He objectively exploits his grad students (although they do get co-authorship on papers and he doesn't sleep with them, so he's already better than most of the horror stories I was aware of in academia), he blatantly falsifies his research to basically no consequences, and he's objectively less interested in the academics than in the clout and money that comes with being a world-renowned academic.

The problem is that faeries--their chosen academic subject--aren't known for hanging around Cambridge and popping into office hours for in-depth interviews. So Emily and Wendell are both well and truly out of their comfort zones doing research in a tiny, wintery village. And for all Emily is terrible at people, she is stunningly good at faeries. Brownies, small folk, and even a changeling don't give her pause, and at no point is Emily out of her depth in terms of knowledge--even if actual magic tends to trump KNOWING that you've been magicked.

While Emily, Wendell, and the other characters are what you read this book for, the faerie lore, setting, and sheer winter vibes are phenomenal. I also loved the journal format of this book more than I thought I would. First-person journal style novels (I could maaaaaaaaaaaaaybe justify calling this an epistolary novel, but that might be stretching the genre a little, since the perspective is pretty firmly limited to Emily, with only I think two interludes from Wendell) tend to either feel like there's a lot of distance between reader and character, since the story is literally mediated through multiple meta layers of textuality, or that there isn't enough distance between character and readers. Emily being bad at people means that the book leans toward more distance, but as you get to know her, that distance closes a little, and the understated, scientific tone honestly makes some of the more objectively emotional events hit weirdly harder than they might have otherwise. I think the writing style works brilliantly with Emily as a character, and honestly the whole thing reminds me a little of Olivia Atwater's Regency Fairy Tales in tone and mood.

I am loathe to offer any plot spoilers here, because frankly this book was excellent and I strongly recommend it. It's a very, very slow burn romance with fantastic lore and Emily is a compelling character on her own merits long before she realizes what book she's in. I am absolutely psyched for Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands, and you will likely (eventually) get a review of that one from me as well. In the mean time, remember to be polite to you fae, bring gifts, and keep an eye on your mind just in case something decides to enchant you.

[liaromancewriter]

Have a Punny Day

Premise: Cassie and Tobias go overboard with food puns.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Tobias Carrick, F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat. Ethan Ramsey Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 800

A/N: One of the readers on AO3 asked once if I'd consider writing a Tobias and Cassie interaction, similar to the food puns chapter in book 3. This fic is inspired by that ask. Submission for @choicesmaychallenge24 prompt 'mania' for the use of too many puns and uncontrollable laughter. 😂

Cassie Valentine was run off her feet. As a third-year resident and junior fellow at Boston’s prestigious Edenbrook Hospital, her free time was increasingly being squeezed ahead of graduation. Suddenly, it seemed as if the faculty was determined to dump all their knowledge onto departing minds.

That would have been helpful when she was a clueless intern three years ago. But now, after working with Ethan Ramsey on the most complex medical cases and performing hundreds of procedures, she no longer needed to know when arterial was preferred over central venous line placement.

She scarfed down a banana she’d grabbed from the breakroom between patients and wished it was a chocolate bar instead. What possessed her to give up chocolate for Lent?

Max, that’s what. The bastard had dared her, and she’d fallen for his sneaky insinuations like the gullible idiot she was.

Swallowing down the last bite of the slightly mushy fruit, she disposed of the peel and headed toward the north elevator bank. The buzzing of her pager with a message to report to the Diagnostic Team office had her changing directions.

A short while later, she swiped the access card and rushed into the glass-walled office, breathless from her dash up three flights of stairs.

“Whoa. Cake it easy, Valentine,” Tobias Carrick called out in alarm from the conference table, forking up a chocolate cake.

Cassie watched him in bemusement. “Did you just say ‘cake’ it easy?”

“Oops. Must have had cake on my mind.” He toasted her with his fork, going back for seconds.

Cassie shrugged, joining him at the round conference table. “I’m a layer back kind of person, Carrick.”

Tobias grinned wolfishly. “Well, you’re butter than me.”

He saw her staring hungrily at the cake and pushed the plate toward her. “It’s Maureen’s birthday. I managed to confiscate this from the nurses’ lounge— with great difficulty, I might add. If they find out, I’m in dip chip.”

Cassie snorted at the pun. “What’s life without a few whisks, right?”

Tobias chuckled. “A little cheesy, but grate effort. Here, I grabbed two forks.”

Shaking her head, she pushed the plate away. “Thanks, but my brother challenged me to give up something for Lent. In my not-so-infinite wisdom, I picked chocolate.”

“Yogurta be kidding me!” His mouth dropped open. “I didn’t peg you for being religious, especially with Ethan being agnostic.”

“Anything’s pastable.” Cassie laughed, amused at the hypothetical scenario of Ethan going to church with her. “Besides, it’s not about religion——and if you tell my mother I said that, you’re a dirty, rotten liar,” she warned with a steely-eyed look, pretending to crack her knuckles for effect.

“Max just knows how to push my gumdrop buttons, and we made a bet. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of rolling in the dough,” she added with a secret relish.

Tobias raised his eyebrows. “If you’ve given up chocolate, you must feel pretty desserted.”

“Tell you what.” He pushed his chair back and picked up the paper plate. “Consider this a gesture of my friend-chip.”

So saying, he walked out the sliding glass doors and dumped the rest of the cake into the trashcan outside.

“You’re one in a melon, Tobias,” Cassie said, her lips curled in a friendly smile. “Donut let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“And another one bites the crust.” Tobias winked lasciviously, his voice dropping into a familiar flirtatious tone. “Knew my charm would rub off on you one of these days, Cassie. Admit it. I’ve got you wonton more.”

“Oh, beet it, Carrick!” Cassie burst into laughter, throwing her head backward.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she tried to still the laughter, but it was a losing battle as Tobias joined her, his deeper chuckles mingling with her lighter ones.

When Ethan and Baz Mirani walked into the diagnostic team’s office a few minutes later, they came to a standstill and stared perplexed. The other half of the team was doubled over in their chairs; bodies wracked in uncontrollable laughter.

“Have you noticed how unruly the team has become since Carrick joined us?” Ethan mused, raising an eyebrow as he glanced from Cassie to Tobias.

Baz folded his arms, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, we could use a break from the usual grind of life and death.”

“I’ll never understand how one person can cause such chaos,” Ethan shook his head, crossing the carpeted floor to stand at the front of the conference table.

Noticing the others had joined them, Cassie and Tobias slowly collected themselves. Their laughter died down to occasional chuckles as they shared one final amused glance before turning to give their attention to Ethan, the levity of the moment settling into a comfortable workday hum.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso

@mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16

@justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

[mirai-e-jump]

Uchusen Vol. 76 (Spring 1996) Choukou Senshi Changerion Segment ft. Toshiki Inoue Interview (translations below)

Publication: June 1, 1996

BIRTH OF THE CHANGERION

Choukou Senshi Changerion, which began airing on April 3 as Toei Hero's third slot, is an extremely ambitious work that aims to create an epoch of 90s styled heroes.

First, there's the visual shock of the hero, with the heavy use of transparent materials. Shinohara Tamotsu was in charge of the design, and Rainbow Zoukei, which was in charge of the modeling, even installed new equipment for Changerion.

The result, as you can see, is a super battleship like suit, with two layers of crystals and mechanical parts throughout its body.

Another ambition of Changerion, is its spirit. As those who have seen the show already know, Akira Suzumura, the main character, is a person who has no sense of being a hero or having a mission.

With this character image at its core, the story is light hearted, with a comedic touch. At the moment, Screenwriter Toshiki Inoue's unique world is unfolding, as he handles all of it by himself. We'll leave the details to Producer Shirakura Shinichiro's comments, but, it's a completely new tokusatsu hero work that aims to be an anti existing hero. A new program with 100% expectations, keep an eye out for future developments! _

Staff Comments

Design: Shinohara Tamotsu

"Based on the premise that the suit is made of a transparent material, the key idea is to give off the image of a, "Demon in Angel's clothes." Both order and chaos are coexisting. For the transparent parts, I tried to create a godly feel with wings and muscles, which are associated with Greek mythology, while inside, I tried to create a rough feel with the complicated mechanics. It's true that the mechanics inside are so complicated, that it alone is like a demon…."

Modeling: Maezawa Nori (Rainbow Zoukei)

"Changerion is an idea that I've always wanted to try someday. That's why we tested it carefully, and finally completed the project after many retakes, until the very end of the permitted production time. I'm confident in saying that I've reached a level where I'm not embarrassed to consider this a modern tokusatsu hero. I'll continue to challenge myself to create new concepts whenever I have the opportunity, so please continue to support us."

Producer: Shirakura Shinichiro

"Our first priority when planning Changerion, was to create a true to life hero. For humans, I don't think they'd suddenly feel a sense of justice or mission when suddenly told that they're heroes from this day forward. Everyone wants to have fun and enjoy life. From that perspective, what kind of drama can we create? That was the theme. To achieve this, I wanted to establish the appeal of Akira's character as a human being, and make him the driving force for pulling the story along. For that reason, Inoue-san was the best choice for screenwriter. Another thing is that I want people to think is, "This is kinda stylish." I want it to give off the feel that this is a story that's happening right now, in the year 1996, and no other time. I want to properly capture the feeling of "Now" in my work. In that case, we, the staff of Changerion, are thinking of creating a completely new work without being bound by the existing image of a hero, so please look forward to it." _

Main Cast

"Why is this guy like this? And of all people…he's Changerion."

Suzumura Detective Agency Main Character: Akira Suzumura, is the head of the detective agency. Although he pretends to be a first rate detective, the work he receives is always something like searching for lost dogs and cats, and, he's constantly running into debt.

Akira Suzumura (Takashi Hagino): A naturally happy go lucky person. By chance, he's exposed to the Crystal Power and gains the power of Changerion, but he's not aware of being a warrior. He loves banana parfaits.

Akemi Tachibana (Mie Hayashi): A college student and a part time employee of the Suzumura Detective Agency. She's a reliable person and is practically in charge of the office. Her family runs a guest house in Iwate.

SAIDOC Members: Katsuhiko Hayami (Kazunari Aizawa), Takeshi Munakata (Noboru Ichiyama), Eri Minami (Chika Kochihira) A special agency established by scientist Takeshi Munakata in preparation for the DarkZide invasion. As a trump card, he carries out the Changerion Project using recovered DarkZide technology, but, all of it was accidentally taken by Akira, and the agency is in trouble financially.

Super Light Knight: 3 droids developed by SAIDOC to support Changerion. Each of them has the ability to transform from robot mode to vehicle mode.

DarkZide: Higher life forms that emerged in the Dark Dimension and evolve differently from humans. They disguise themselves as humans and hide in society. They're monsters whose purpose is to absorb "Larmu," the biological energy of humans. _

Interview with Toshiki Inoue

-Akira is quite honestly an incredible superhero-

"Inoue-san, have you been involved with Changerion since the planning stage?

Inoue: I have. We've been planning since the days of "Android Hakaider." So, since this would be the start of a brand new show, I thought it'd be better to break away from the existing hero genre. That being the case, I was certain that comedy was the way to go, and that comedy is the way to go from now on. I don't have anything to back up this claim (laughs).

"How did you create the main character?"

Inoue: In the beginning, he wasn't going to be a detective. He'd be a "fugitive". Like that old American TV series. I was trying to do a comedy with "The Fugitive" in mind, but it just didn't work out. It ended up becoming too dark (laughs). It's funnier when fugitives run away laughing like crazy. And since they're never in a single spot, it's hard to determine their location. That's why I made him a detective.

"In reality, being a detective is pretty plain, and isn't a very cheerful profession."

Inoue: That's right. Akira used to do pretty boring work before he became Changerion, didn't he? But, he's got a playful spirit even in his mundane work, so he has fun carrying a gun and acting pretentious. Characters like that are so important to me in that, it doesn't matter what their occupation is. It doesn't matter if he's a fugitive or a detective. He happened to become a detective by chance because it'd be easier to tell the story as a detective.

"The fact that the main character becomes a hero by chance is similar to Jetman."

Inoue: That's right. That's why there's only two ways to create a hero. Either it's someone who's selected and chosen, or it's someone that shouldn't have been selected but becomes a hero anyway. For me, I like the latter.

"The enemy's setup isn't really depicted within the show."

Inoue: Executives are becoming alot more unnecessary. When I start a show, even if I want to do something new, I don't change my mind so quickly, so I thought that things like an evil organization and other detailed settings were all necessary. But, as we started and the drama progressed, my expectations became different in a positive way. I began to think that we could do without all that. I can say that because the story is moving along. So, you know, it's easier to understand Changerion if you think of it as just a detective drama. It doesn't have to be a so called hero story, where it's split up by allies and enemies who then fight each other. It also doesn't have to be like a final episode, where the enemy is finally defeated and the story ends. But, the scenario is difficult. If this were a normal hero story, I could do the whole show with just one idea, but it's a comedy, so I have to come up with alot of material, so it's…..it's abit tiring, isn't it? (laughs).

"What would Inoue-san consider to be his image of a hero?"

Inoue: It would be a guy who's complacent. When faced with a crisis, everyone goes into a state of panic, so I think that having composure in such a situation is a strong point. That's why Akira is quite honestly an incredible superhero, now that I just thought about it (laughs).

[yrlocalghost]

I don't know how to make conversation but uh. Can I sk more abt your rabbit guy? The silly ears

sure of course. i am not really sure what to say though. his name is spica. my first interaction with him ever at the shelter was that i put my hand near him and he lunged at me and for some reason i decided that i had to have him.

he is named spica because i got him when i was barely 16. and 16 year old me did mental gymnastics for an undertale reference name. so there are four stars that form a diamond in the sky. one of those is spica, the wheat in the virgo constellation. one of the others is cor caroli in the constellation canes venatici. which has the star beta canum venaticorum, or chara.

he had a brother named cinnamon but he died unfortunately. after that, trying to bond him with any other rabbits was impossible. i have a small scar on my hand from getting between him and another during a particularly intense scuffle. i have a picture of the wound still and it is kind of fun to me because it feels very “woah little buddy, you went through several layers of my flesh- congratulations!”

he greets me every morning or whenever i enter our room by running at me and honking until i pet him. he really likes being pet.

when he was younger he ate chicken somehow and never got sick. so i think he craves flesh now. he also once ate a quarter of a power bar and i thought he was going to die. he was fine.

his favourite treats in order are banana, apple and carrots. his favourite leafy greens are cilantro/coriander and parsley. he hates rosemary

[rustycottoncandy]

I ate an apple for dinner today. It was so good. Apples, I love you.

I want to ask my parents to buy different kinds of fruit and make kinda like a fruit salad someday. As in — I wanna chop pears, apples, strawberries, bananas, oranges and tangerines into pieces and mix them in a bowl with blueberries, raspberries and grapes and have that as dinner or breakfast. I'll present the idea to them tomorrow.

I also want to mention something food-related I did two days ago that a friend of mine claimed to be probably the most autistic thing I've ever done. He wasn't trying to insult me or anything, by the way. I am autistic.

So the other day we went to a fair. Fair, carnival...? I've never really gotten the word in English but basically it was a place with a lot of attractions that one could ride to have fun. There were also stores to get food around the place. You could get anything from hotdogs to waffles. Cotton candy and candy apples were, of course, also an option.

I got a candy apple and waited until we got home to eat it because I wanted to consume it in peace. Now, the funny part is that I'd never really eaten a candy apple before. I tried to once but it just stayed in the fridge until it was no longer safe to consume.

I wasn't going to sleep before eating this one, though.

...

But how?

The candy they dipped the apple in was definitely too tough to bite through it, so that wasn't an option. I didn't consider chopping it into pieces, either. So what'd I do? My fucking brain came to the conclusion that candy apples were supposed to be kind of like lollipops and that if you wanted to eat the apple, you'd have to get rid of the candy layer first.

I got home at like 12AM and spent around four hours trying to get rid of the candy. I helped myself breaking some parts off with a knife too and then eating them as if they were separate candy.

It wasn't until I decided to look up pictures of candy apples and saw that they were cut into slices in the pictures that I realized I was eating it the wrong way.

I explained the situation to an online friend of mine and he claimed it as the most autistic thing I'd ever done. He also decided he'd be calling me by my real name and revoked my username privilege for twenty-four hours. I'm back to being Rusty to him now.

I chopped the candy apple into pieces after that and didn't take long to finish it. The candy layer was still present in some parts, I didn't manage to get it all off.

But yeah, that was funny.