#so delicate and excited

[braverytattoos]

Louis meeting fans in Jakarta

[2aceofspades]

Presence...pressure

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Short update but it's ✨her moment✨ okay??

[wexhappyxfew]

stray bullets

(a/n): it's been a long time coming, but.....i am beyond excited to share this piece. focused on some early days with kennedy x bucky, i wanted to dig into kennedy and her character (and her fun internal monologue) and introduce exactly how she's connected with bucky - because let's be honest, even she doesn't know how it happened. please enjoy!! :D (also...it's a bit of a long one - i was having some fun haha!)

The silence around the interrogation table was enough to mess with any person's head; whether they were the command pilot, like Lieutenant Bradshaw, or a tail gunner, like Marianne Salinger, they all seemed to sit in reserved quietness as they festered in the happenings of just an hour ago.

Sweat trickled down the sides of her face as she leaned against the wooden table, picking at pieces that were peeling up, trying to keep her eyes away from the maps sprawled out, and that big leather-jacket notebook where Bessie kept all her notes, coordinates and documentation for what planes had gone down - when and where. The other tables were much more lively - louder, chatty, a bit of yelling even. The Silver Bullets table was quiet, and they were all sure it had to do with the notable lack of their flight engineer, who was currently at the Med-Bay, bloodied and unconscious.

Margie Harlowe was on all of their minds it seemed.

And the thought of having to recount the events leading up to that point, made Kennedy want to vomit. The hit had come just as they were on the 90 degree turn to get the bombs ready to drop. Achterberg had taken control of the plane, with Bradshaw and Montez working to guide the B-17 swiftly to the side, as the onslaught of flak and bullets sprayed from the German fighters swinging around above them.

Kennedy remembered the yelp and anguished cry of pain that had come from her headset, the blood-curdling scream for help that had Kennedy forgetting about her .50 cal and racing towards where the top turret was. She couldn't get that look on Margie's face out of her mind; sobbing, horrified, the blood covering half her face, Stagliano trying to calm Margie down the best she could, while waving off the sad excuse of help that Kennedy had been. Freezing up like that, what was she thinking?

"Sergeant Farley." Kennedy's head snapped up - she didn't realize she'd blanked out, staring at the dried blood on her hands, shoved up underneath her fingernails, and had her name being called all at once. She met the eyes of the interrogator and swallowed.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said you were there when you got Sergeant Harlowe out of the top turret." the interrogator started, "Can you recount that for me?" Kennedy stared at him, suddenly feeling the eyes of everyone at the table and some of the surrounding upper brass, on her.

Colonel Harding had stood in the background, hand nervously resting on his upper lip, eyes masked in worry as the group had come in - it seemed whenever something happened to Silver Bullets, he was always at interrogation, especially their table. Making sure wrongs were righted and that whatever was going on, was fixed. He looked out for them.

"I was, sir," Kennedy managed out, shifting a bit, as more sweat dripped down her face, briefly catching the worried look from Judy just a few people down. Her eyes caught on Vivian's gaze opposite her own. She then found Francis watching her, and tried to avoid her emotions that she felt as she noted the ones in their co-pilot's own. The only thing keeping her steady was Lieutenant Bradshaw's presence beside her.

In some innate way, having Lieutenant Bradshaw there kept her from losing it.

"It was quick," Kennedy said, "I figured flak or….something from one of the fighters. German fighters. Bullet spray." Kennedy saw Paulina nod her on encouragingly.

"Sergeant Ratcliff was manning her post….so, I went to Sergeant Harlowe," Kennedy said, her eyes filling with tears, her voice breaking, "I got her out of there. As quick as I could. I…I laid her down. There was blood…..everywhere…." Kennedy trailed off. She was staring at her hands again, covered in blood. Margie's blood.

"I was able to stop the bleeding from both the side of her face and her shoulder. Took what bandage was there and wrapped her shoulder. Set it in a splint." Paulina said quickly, her words firm and much more logically-backed and confident than Kennedy's would ever be, "I ensured that there weren't blocked airways and she could breathe. It was a joint effort, Sergeant Farley and I, to ensure her safety." Kennedy looked to Paulina and gave her a slow nod of thanks, to which Paulina nodded back. Because that's what they did for each other; having each other's backs like this.

"Alright," the interrogator said, making a few extra notes before clearing his throat and looking towards Lieutenant Bradshaw, who was sat there stoic and quiet, "we lost Browning and Alder. How many chutes….?"

Kennedy watched in a reeling bit of slow motion as Judy sat there and recounted the number of chutes she had seen, Marianne and Francis chiming in with their own recounts and visuals. How many more chutes would they have to count, planes going down all around, before this would be over? Before this nightmare would end?

Kennedy looked to the empty chair where Margie would've sat and felt her heart sag and her throat tighten with emotion she had been forcing herself not to feel. It was eerily similar to when Captain Faulkner had taken the hit. When she had died. They still had sat around this stupid interrogation table, having to talk about that mission, about what had happened, with Captain Faulkner's chair left open, her presence highly gone. They all remembered that. It hurt.

Whether it was the fact she was sat at that table, or was used to a constant presence of eyes, she glanced upwards and found, from the middle opening space where some of the brass would linger in times like this, Major Egan watching her, his hands placed on his hips, and his eyes seeking out her own.

Kennedy had never been wrapped up in any sort of long-winded conversation with Major Egan - their differences in rank and formalities were already a larger factor than needed when it came to talking to him and she didn't want to incite any sort of inappropriate ideas past that. They'd debated about baseball a few times - her, a raging Red Sox fan, him a stupid Yankees fan - and they'd even had a few conversations that were outside that realm. But it was never anything much more than that. And she intended to keep it that way. Yet, something in his gaze made her not want to look away from his face, from his eyes, from his presence stood there in the center of the room.

"Sergeant Farley?" She snapped her head away from his eyes and back to the table - many of which of the Silver Bullets girls were currently watching Kennedy with sorrowful and worried expressions, while Lieutenant Bradshaw eyed her curiously.

"Sorry?"

"The number of chutes from Browning. That you saw?" the interrogator asked. Kennedy righted herself and straightened her back.

"Right."

When they were dismissed, after Kennedy had been sat, blanked out for a greater portion of her time there in the seat, Lieutenant Bradshaw had caught her before she could run away, pulling her to the side, with a warm hand on her shoulder and a soft look in her eyes.

"You should go visit her," Annie said quietly, "I can tell by the look in your eye that you won't change out of these clothes or eat until you do." Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw did know her rather well in that sense.

"Yes, ma'am, I will," Kennedy said firmly, reaching up to wipe at the beads of sweat still trickling down her face - whether from the stress still circulating her body or the idea of Margie there on a cot, unconscious, she wasn't sure, "you do the same." Annie watched her with a smile before reaching up to squeeze her shoulder.

"I will, Farley," she said, before patting her shoulder, "and wash up. A few of the girls were planning on heading to the flying club tonight. Destress and all." Kennedy smiled softly and nodded.

"Will do." she said and Annie smiled before turning and heading off - leave it to Lieutenant Annie Bradshaw to instill what comfort they all needed after something like that. Birdie used to do much of the same - Annie even had the same look in her eye as Birdie usually did after a mission. Kennedy smiled slightly.

"Sergeant Farley." The achingly familiar voice struck her system and she turned to her left to find Major Egan walking towards her, as she watched him approach with that slow, even and swaggering gait, his crusher cap a bit lopsided on his head, sweat dropping down the sides of his face, as he wore that stupid, beige sheepskin jacket that she had offhandedly made fun of him for that one time (and proceeded to rub in her face ever since).

"Sir." she said, saluting him quickly as he came to a stop in front of her and shook his head, reaching up to bring her arm down from the position she'd taken up.

"Nah, nah, don't worry about that bullshit," he said and she raised her brows, "Harlowe. Sergeant Harlowe - is she good? Is she alright?" Kennedy stared at him, her heart pulsating inside her chest in a way that made her unable to get her breathing entirely under control. She watched him, tilting her head to the side and then managed to find her footing.

"Not entirely, but she's alive," she said firmly, with a nod, "flak hit up top. Or….stray bullets. Either way, she was hit and knocked out. But she's fine now." Kennedy watched him as she spoke, his eyes refusing to leave her own as he stared down at her, his larger-than-life presence soaking up every part of the view in front of her, the worry in his eyes, covered with that joking nature a slight surprise and the deep breaths he was taking enough to make her fail at controlling her own.

"And yourself?" he asked her, the corner of his lips poking upwards, a smile fighting to be on his face.

"Me? Sir, I, uh, I'm fine," she said quickly, sputtering a bit like a small child, "I'm fine seriously-"

"Good, good," he said quickly - they were pretty quick with whatever they seemed to be talking about here, "just…..when the planes came back and Harding said something about Silver Bullets taking a hit, I thought…..thought the whole goddamn plane had gone down from the way he was fucking talking so." She stared at him. He stopped talking and then stared at her, before running a hand over his face and nodding to her. She stared back at him, unsure of what to say.

For probably the first time in a long time, looking at him, she did not know what to say. This panicked approach to this sudden stillness and quiet. There were voices all around them, nurses bustling about with medics and doctors, and pilots with their crews meandering away from interrogation like limp horses, dragging gear that was nothing but a pile of garbage behind them. And the smells - like gasoline, smoke and death wafted through the air, enough to make a person want to vomit. She needed to go see Margie, and she was beyond sure that Major Egan had somewhere better to be as well. Kennedy wanted to move her feet, but she couldn't. No part of her was moving or even ready to move. Major Egan was stock-still in front of her as well.

"Is there….something else, uh, sir?" Kennedy didn't know what to do with Major Egan sometimes - call him sir, but he told her not to bother? Call him sir because he was the one who held rank? Major Egan continued to watch her and then ran a hand down his slightly sweaty face and shook his head.

"No." he said quickly, firmly, "You should get a check on Sergeant Harlowe. Make sure she's alright when she wakes up." If she wakes up, Kennedy thought, but that sour idea in her mind disappeared as Major Egan nodded to her. She stared at him for a moment longer, before she slowly nodded to him, turning away from him. She took a few steps before she could hear his footsteps and feel the placement of his hand wrapped around her elbow.

"Farley," he said, his voice quieter, as she stopped her paces and turned, her eyes searching his own as she looked at him, "seriously, you alright?" She stared at him, slightly surprised at the way his voice had grown softer, his eyes less vibrant than normal.

"Yes," she told him, but as he tilted his head towards her, she felt her heart race a bit faster than normal and couldn't help but take a shaky step back from him, "it was just a lot today that's all. But it's a lot every day. Nothing new. Can't complain." Major Egan watched her, like he was trying to diagnose whatever the fuck was currently wrong with her, acting like she didn't just watch their flight engineer and closest companion almost die.

"You like the jacket?" he asked her quietly, and it didn't take long for what stress she had in her mind and heart to roll back into that violent ocean crawl of waves and a small laugh to leave her lips.

"Is that why you came waltzing over here?" she asked him, her voice low, as she crossed her arms, "Because if that's all this was about, I'm just going to head to the Med-Bay now." Major Egan let out a dry chuckle and looked to her.

"And if I told you it was?"

"I would happily discard that jacket for you, even start a bonfire." she said, "We could get real fancy." She stared at him. "It looks ridiculous."

"You sure about that?" he said, popping up the collar, which made her roll her eyes, "I think it fits me pretty well."

"I would beg to differ," she said, "seriously, an A-2 would do you one better."

"You going sweet on me, Farley?"

"Since when did that idea get into your head?"

"You like me in my A-2, admit it."

"It would look better than that shitty thing."

"C'mon, Farley, don't leave me hangin' now." She raised a brow at him as she crossed her arms across her chest and smirked his way.

"Goodbye, John." she said, with a grin, turning away, only to have him placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her back around. She looked up at him.

"For someone so hellbent on making his rounds, you sure seem to like hanging around me." she said quietly, with a small smile, watching as his eyes seemed to twinkle in the hazy afternoon sunlight.

"Consider it a compliment." he offered her.

"A compliment?" she said with a small smile, "Didn't know you handed those out. And for free?"

"Farley…." he said with a slight groan in his voice that made her laugh as she reached forward and nudged his shoulder.

"It's okay to admit that, Margie says I'm a grand friend to have anyway," she said, watching his gaze soften at her, "it means a lot, truly."

"Friend's a word." he said with a shrug, his face tensing up slightly as she stared at him.

"Yeah." she said, with a nod, "And so is goodbye." He stared at her and she smiled up at him.

"I'm only kidding," she said, before her face fell a bit, "seriously, you okay? You weren't even on the mission and you look seriously fucked up." Kennedy had hoped that keeping up with this banter, this light-hearted, dare she call it flirting, maybe would lift his worrisome and lonely spirits, but he seemed drawn into himself and concave again and she wasn't sure what more to say.

Hey, even going as far to compliment his physique's correlation to an A-2 was pretty nice of her!

And something she wasn't actually lying about - not like she had spent too long staring at his broad shoulders over breakfast the other day (but no one except her knew).

"Didn't know you handed out compliments with a side of self-degradation, now huh?" he said and she let out a scoff and crossed her arms to look at him again.

"Seriously, John, what's wrong?"

"You can call me, Bucky, remember?"

"John."

"Nothing's wrong. Nothing, just…." he looked around, that lazy smile on his face, and looked back at her, hands rested on those hips of his again and looked to her, "does anything have to be wrong when I come to talk to you?"

"Usually there is something wrong."

"Kennedy-"

"Alright, look," she said, "if you don't budge, I'm gonna head to the Med-Bay, check in on Margie." She was playing her emotions really well, so well she had almost forgotten the mission altogether.

"So, you gonna tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to decode it from you myself? Beg on my hands and knees? Don't make me look that pathetic." Major Egan watched her with a slight smirk and she shoved his shoulder again.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like whattt?" he said as she rolled her eyes with a laugh, "Oh, c'mon, Kennedy, I'm supposed to hear that Silver Bullets took a hit and not think about you?"

Kennedy's smile dropped and it seemed the realization hit Major Egan at the same time and for a moment, they were just standing there, staring at each other like deer in headlights. She couldn't look away from his eyes, because for the first time there was something more than besides his usually flirty, joking self. Hell, that was just how he normally was - no stake in the ground with a soul, moving with the wind, taking him where the Lord put him, all that bullshit. For a second, she almost thought she wasn't hearing him straight and was going to leave it at that. But no, he'd said that and she was sure her face matched the color of her dirtied ginger hair and her strawberry-blonde ends.

"Egan!" The two turned from each other, in what had been a…rather intense stare down and found Crank coming towards him, "Harding needs us!"

"Give me a fucking second, Crank! I'm talking here!" Major Egan yelled back before turning to her and gulping, before parting his lips as if to speak. She stared at him still, unable to find the words that would amount to much of anything.

"Don't give me lip, Bucky - look, we gotta go!" Major Egan turned.

"Just a minute, Crank, seriously." Major Egan called out before turning to her still stood there.

"You really should go." she finally said, her voice somewhat hoarse as she did so, like she couldn't get the words out right, "Colonel Harding-"

"I don't care what Harding thinks right now," he said firmly looking at her, "look, Farley, I-"

"It's fine." she said quickly, plastering on a smile quickly and a nod, "I'm fine." Major Egan looked far from convinced in that moment. Because she wasn't convinced herself.

He had heard Silver Bullets took a hit and suspected immediately it was her?

That's why he had looked at her like that?

In interrogation?

She wasn't much to him, so she thought, at least - what…the few conversations they'd share? She'd practically egged him on into conversations about baseball where it was less of a discussion and more of a debate. If anything, he should've heard Silver Bullets and suspected about Annie or Francis.

"Go on," she said, shoving down her feelings and emotions, offering a small smile, "Colonel Harding sounds like he really needs to talk to you. Plus, if you must continue to talk about your stupid sheepskin, I'll be at the flying club later. Maybe I'll even beat you in darts. Again." Major Egan stared at her, for the first time, a little wordless and nodded.

"Kennedy, I-"

"It's fine." she said, convincing herself the very same - if she acted like she didn't hear it from his lips, then it never happened. He never said those words, never looked at her like that, never even bothered to tell her he was worried about her after hearing about Silver Bullets getting hit. If she ignored it, it wasn't what had happened.

And it was better that way.

"Bucky-"

"A second, Crank, please!" Major Egan yelled over his shoulder again, before looking at her and sighing, jabbing a thumb behind him.

"I gotta…." he started, his words fading as he managed a weak smile at her.

"Yeah, yeah," she said quickly, with a nod, and a forced smile.

"Let me know how Harlowe is…?"

"I will." she said as he began to backpedal backwards, his eyes holding hers still. Then, she watched Crank come up to Major Egan's shoulder and spin him around before pointing and frantically talking. Then they were walking away and disappeared. Kennedy stood there like the wind had just been taken out of her sail. Why'd she act like that?

"Hey! Kenny!" Kennedy turned and found Judy coming up to her, with Bessie and Carrie behind her, splitting a few cookies in their hands, "Here you are. We thought we couldn't find you." Kennedy stared at Judy, who came up beside her, with bright eyes, before looking to Bessie and Carrie, who shared a look before looking at Kennedy.

"You alright, Farley?" Bessie asked her, glancing in the general direction of where Major Egan had wandered off to, "What'd Bucky want?" Kennedy snapped into her usual collected self (which took far more effort today than usual) and ran a hand over her hair, cringing at bit at the smell of oil and grease that followed - which undoubtedly Major Egan had smelled - and sighed.

"Heard about Margie." she said firmly, cooly, kind of quick at that, like she couldn't get the words out fast enough to cover her ass, "He knows we're close and wanted to check in. Make sure things were okay."

"Always sticking his nose into all our bullshit," Carrie muttered, crunching off a piece of the sugar cookie and shaking her head, "you know I heard the other day he was trying to ask Bradshaw for a tour of Silver Bullets. Next thing you know, I'm tearing into him, telling him he touches my area, my shit, it's over for him-"

"He just wanted to make sure she was okay, Bergie," Kennedy said with a shrug, "guess it just gets old, hearing about losing people. Over and over."

"Especially someone from Silver Bullets." Judy finished for her, "Bucky's always been sweet as peaches to me, anyway. It's mighty kind of him to come and check up on you. Knowing how close you two are. He's got an awful soft-spot for Silver Bullets."

"Some soft spot." Carrie said with a slight chuckle and smirk, glancing at Kennedy, who rolled her eyes, ignoring the looks, and glanced back to the direction of where Major Egan had gone.

"Let's go to the Med-Bay," Judy said, "I'm sure Margie would want to see us when she wakes."

"What this face?" Carrie said, "We all look like sorry excuses for circus clowns."

"At least a little flak never scared off that charisma, Bergie." Bessie said as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and the whole group burst into chuckles as they headed towards the Med-Bay, sharing cookies and smiles.

But all that was on her mind, until the hit the Med-Bay doors was that Major Egan had thought of her, when Silver Bullets was said to have gotten a nasty hit.

Her.

[horrendousmustard]

Kaneki Goes on a Trip Part 4 - finally back at accomodation! Despite his exhaustion, he makes time for reading before bed…

[statementlou]

I think Louis would hate hearing this but I mean it in the most complimentary way possible: he is so fucking beautiful. The way he’s sort of curvy it’s almost feminine (the highest compliment!) but it’s still very very manly. I can’t explain it. I did not know I liked curves in a man before him but sometimes it’s just jaw dropping gorgeous. Like he is just so gorgeous. I am not calling him a woman or trying to emasculate him in any way whatsoever btw, he just has something really sexy going for him and it’s not a gender thing.

I think a lot about how because he didn't grow up, have the body type to get famous, and then make it big using that look, we get something in the celebrity sphere we otherwise wouldn't have: someone I actually find hot! To me he is soooo much hotter than yet another tall skinny gym guy, like YES let me fucking ogle those curves and thighs, PLEASE. He's not feminine at all but he is sooooo gender subversive anyway in his movements and entire state of being- but people who try to feminize him because he's short or pretty or whatever are missing every point of the gender subversion oozing out of his sexy (and masculine) pores so fucking hard

[inga-don-studio]

A few close-ups of some of the Halloween Cultural Preservation Museum displays that particularly spoke to me and frankly are just? Fantastic art? That I figure others might like to see for art inspo or just because they're cool?

"Totem pole" Halloween die-cuts, with art I've never seen and am now hopelessly in love with:

And a soft-bodied doll with a small vintage trick-or-treat bucket for a head?! I need to make one! Look at how cute this little guy is!!!

[ratatatastic]

happy first ekky goal of the 2425 season AND its unassisted as the double whammy!!! and how due is ekky for a goal?

VERY. VERY VERY DUE. ITS INSANE CONSIDERING HE HAS 12 ASSISTS ON THE SEASON.

wall of love and yearning gus and ekky love IS so real and so true catmin <3

carolina hurricanes @ florida panthers | 11.30.24 (x)(x)(x)(x)

[explodingstarlight]

I wonder how the rise boys would react to 2012 Mikey's pizza concoctions...like the pizza shake lol

something tells me rise!Mikey isn't pleased

[starry-teacup]

I am a trans damsel truther- let the razor give him his haircut when he transitions

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

ohhhh my god ok i just listened to the Fontaine Live Symphony and the music is making me think of a waltz. waltzing together with Childe in a fierce battle, both of you just barely dodging each other's attacks, yet you both smile at each other in playful rivalry. you and Childe waltzing during Lantern Rite, tucked away in some lofty mountain where you can see the entire city, content in each other's arms. he teaches you some dances from Snezhnaya, all unique in their own way, but always, always requiring two people.

...waltzing with Foul Legacy over the clear waters of Fontaine, practicing steps you saw from a robotic couple locked in an everlasting dance. even waltzing together in a crystalline pond, reflecting all the stars of the night sky, threatening to drag both of you down into its depths. he's slightly clumsier now, still getting used to being so much taller, but his claws handle you with care and grace, and you know that he'll never let you fall. even the Hydro Archon herself couldn't judge this dance, only able to see the loving smile you cast up towards a monstrous Abyssal creature, his delicate wings fluttering with delight and flicking dewdrops into your hair.

perhaps in some story, you and Foul Legacy are the new dancing pair, everlasting and everloving until Teyvat dissolves into rain.

[sysig]

Pepper scared the shit out of me by hiding in his molt-hammock for A Literal Week and I thought for sure he’d moltstalled but no he was just in there getting swole

[wetcatspellcaster]

Pieces Chapter Twelve drafted... and let me just say, that escalated quickly :')

[probablygayattorneys]

Okay, now that I've had time to get my bearings and sit with Another Code and really think about what I want to say about it, I am prepared to do so.

First off, the Switch remake is not Trace Memory. In fact, if you were like me and played Trace Memory as a kid but then it kind of fell off your radar and you didn't buy a used copy on eBay to replay it before you replayed the remake, you would be forgiven if you had a little niggling feeling that you couldn't place that you had seen all of this somewhere before, but not where. Ashley's name isn't even the same - Robbins is spelled with only one b, which I do understand is the same as in the original UK version, but was still quite jarring to someone who's only played the US version.

I didn't feel like I was playing the same game. There's not a single puzzle that I remember as being the game, and where the original made use of it's hardware, so too does this game, having puzzles that depend on the gyroscope, which might be frustrating if you're playing in docked mode and the controller you tend to use doesn't have gyroscope controls.

It is certainly more fleshed out. There are more parts of the map that you get to visit, and you learn more about the Edwards family, though it also felt like it unraveled more threads than it was willing to wrap up, which is peculiar because it also got rid of one of the most interesting aspects of the original game, which is the multiple endings. No matter what you do, the game funnels you into the "good" ending, which I won't say more details about, just in case anyone reading this hasn't played it. This is a little annoying, because it feels like it's taking away one of the things about the game that made it so special, that the choices you make ultimately matter, but is also overshadowed by the fact that I suck at this game and always have, so I never got the good ending on my own, so now knowing why what happened had to happen and how things ended up the way they did... it's nice to have the closure I was never skilled enough to achieve on my own.

Another cool aspect of this game is that Sayoko being Japanese is not incidental - they actually spend time explaining various aspects of Japanese culture, instead of DTS cards Richard's diary is left on origami cranes, and there's a sweet moment where they talk about the meaning of the name Mizuki. As well, there's actually more depth given to Sayoko's character, even though she was still fridged.

So ultimately... Is it a faithful 1:1 recreation of the source material? No. In fact, you might feel frustrated because it feels like the game is treating you with kid gloves - from things like the forced good ending to the fact that anytime you're working on a puzzle, you just have to press a button to get hints and if you go through all of them it basically just tells you the answer straight out - which, in all fairness, it is.

But is it still worth playing? Yes. It's still a good game, even with the oversexualization of Ashley and the fact that with the camera, you spend most of the game looking directly at her ass and she's 13 years old. If you like puzzle games, which if you don't why are you even following me, it's definitely a worthy entry into that catalogue, which does seem to have been drying up lately.

Now, do I want them to make a remake of Hotel Dusk in the same style?

Hell fucking no. The game was good, but not "I trust you with my baby" good.

[thestarofcottonland]

hi pea!! i love your blog soo much and am also such a fan of your reviews on fragrantica 💝 so i wanted to ask: what’re your favorite fragrance notes and favorite perfumes based on those notes? :3 wishing you a great day!!

wahhhh thank you.....my reviews arent even anything special i dont conjure images well yet but im flattered....

despite having so many perfumes i feel like im still learning what my favourite notes are, i very often get caught up in what sounds good but i fail to really grasp the compatibility of the scents...or even what might have been compatible can be blended poorly.

my favourite notes im familiar with would have to be: honey, which ive found best encapsulated in Bee Ellis Brooklyn, jasmine, best in Gorgeous Jasmine Gucci (despite very sad longevity..), sweetened rose which sadly all the best looking ones ive found are hard to find or just hard to get in canada but Rose Gourmand Zara i do rather like, and i think i must love orange blossom cause its there in all the sweetest perfumes ive ever smelled (Paradoxe, Love Don't Be Shy, Made in Heaven, and D&G Devotion that i just ordered after loving it instantly in the store)

i need to get more familiar with milk, coffee, hay, and i think i could really love seaweed! i think its what lends that moldy smell to Sea of Gray Solstice Scents, and i actually love it so much. cant help it i have mold nostalgia!! im relating to animalic girlies now like yeah sometimes stuff stinks really good and its cozy.

[vodid]

struggling way too hard on ch3 of my fic so here we are.

[sophieswundergarten]

I can't stop thinking about that Wing AU and Sticky plucking his feathers...

(Weird, angsty ramblings that might require some knowledge of bird anatomy to fully understand to follow)

(Basically, when birds grow feathers they start as "blood feathers" which are basically just little sacks of blood and growing cells. After this, they are "pin feathers", and the blood is all inside where it belongs, leaving the feather all rolled up and covered in this papery stuff that rubs off and leaves a fully grown feather. Also, Primaries are the big "pointer finger" feathers at the tip of the wings, Secondaries are the medium sized ones from the "wrist" joint to the "elbow", where they get smaller and are referred to as Tertiaries. That should be it :>)

Because, in real life, it's quite common in pet psittacines (Parrots: so, macaws, cockatoos, budgies, lovebirds, etc.) especially when they are stressed. And it can get out of control really fast and take a long time to train the bird out of even though it's very obviously hurting it.

And I just keep thinking about how young he was when he started being on TV. And for a while the fluffy little baby feathers were cute but an entertainment industry seeking engagement instead of connection demanded he grow up too fast.

And so the make-up/wardrobe department for any competition he was on started pulling some of the downy feathers. There weren't that many left at this point regardless, but they assured him it would make him seem more mature and appeal to a wider audience. And it would be fine, it wouldn't really hurt him, especially since he was growing in big feathers anyway.

So it went. With Sticky being so self-conscious and anxious anyway, he probably kept his wings tucked in tight behind him no matter what people thought about them.

He had never put that much consideration into how he looked, but now he can't stop thinking about it. He doesn't know why it's so important, but apparently it matters to people. He doesn't want it to matter. He doesn't want to be seen or recognised. He just wants to be left alone.

He starts fidgeting with the pin feathers that will one day unfurl into adult primaries, and even though he knows it's counter-intuitive because removing the casings will only free the feathers sooner, he can't help it. A few times he goes too far and starts picking at blood feathers, and even though the red coats his finger tips more often than he'd like, he still can't stop his hands from scratching and pulling and yanking as he grows more and more agitated.

And then he ran away

He ran and he couldn't keep his hands off his wings for more than a few minutes. Tugging and raking his fingers through the feathers in a futile attempt to calm down. The first couple of times, it's an accident.

The first couple of times he's so caught up in soundless panic and all he can hear is his own breathing, it's only later that he notices a small cluster of secondaries, close to his body and almost never seen with how rigidly he holds himself, are missing. Small pieces of the night sky littering the alleyway ground where he'd been hiding.

His wings are so dark in colour, not to mention unkempt after a few weeks hiding and running and flitting from place to place trying to find safety, that the other kids don't even notice anything wrong.

It isn't until a few days later, when they're all in the backyard attempting to practice their Morse Code, and Kate does something that startles him that they really see what kind of a state his wings are in.

Most birds, when scared or on edge, will carefully spread their wings. Maybe not a lot, but they are preparing to fly away or make themselves look bigger in hopes to scare off the threat. (I imagine Milligan having great big owl wings that he puffs up to try and guard the children when the Recruiters come after them in the maze)

But Sticky just draws them in closer to his body. When he is scared, which Constance would note is often, he holds his wings so tightly to his back that they seem half their size. This would be considered odd and in some ways handicapping himself or keeping him from being able to react properly.

But this time, as Kate wobbles unstably out of her cartwheel and lets out a shriek of laughter, landing on the ground right next to him, Sticky jumps. He starts off the bench he had been sitting on, hunching his shoulders and reflexively spreading his wings.

And instead of the fully extended mix of fully grown flight feathers and occasionally wayward piece of down the other kids have, Sticky's wings are a mess. They have a skeletal quality, with just enough plumage that when they are folded in it's hardly noticeable, but when they are extended it's clear there are significant gaps. The remaining feathers have the dull, stunted quality of someone who has been under an incredible amount of stress without nearly enough nutrients to fuel them, and indeed Sticky looks rather like a feral cat in that moment: Spooked and curling in on himself as if expecting a fight.

He quickly realises his overreaction, and then processes that the girls are staring at his wings (Reynie's eye did dart up, but quickly returned to looking at Sticky's face), so he jerks them back into a resting position. Though there's nothing particularly restful about how stiff his posture is, back ramrod straight and muscles so tight he's beginning to shake.

However, this is something that the others know he doesn't want to share yet. And he doesn't need to. Not until he's ready.

So, Kate grabs the flashlight from where it had fallen to the ground, a sheepish grin on her face as she apologises for scaring him.

Reynie suggests they all go inside, take a break and get something to eat before they begin again.

Constance glares at Sticky suspiciously, but right as she opens her mouth she seems to think better of her questions and simply shrugs.

And Sticky is grateful for his friends, grateful that he has these people who love him enough to trust him with his secrets, even though they don't know each other very well yet. So he follows them inside, and if Kate dumps a little bit more food on his plate, and Constance doesn't try to swipe his juice glass this time, and if that night (for the first time) Reynie shyly asks if the two of them could take turns preening each others' wings, when it's just the two of them alone in the room, Sticky thinks he might be able to trust them too.