#this has been in my craw for a while

[sassygwaine]

thinking about how all my life the way i talk (/write/communicate) has been made fun of:

i talk like a dictionary

i talk like an encyclopedia

i talk like a thesaurus

i talk like a teacher

i talk like i think i’m better than everyone else

that all slowed down into adulthood bc people generally understand it’s weird and a dick move to comment on people’s speech

however i did get one a couple months ago that i can’t stop thinking about:

i write (talk/communicate) like i get a good grade in therapy

bc here’s the fuck of it, and something a lot of people who are familiar with me know: i write how i talk, i write how i experience the world, even if i’m using characters to do it, fiction to do it

and after so long of searching for ways to talk about my experiences, to understand what the hell is going on in my head, to have compassion for all the ways those are different for others, to have that reduced to a fucking meme is a gut punch

[feybeasts]

I really don’t know if this is like. For anyone. But as a 33 year old autistic, I’ve spent a lot of time having to deal with a wide variety of folks in various jobs, and it’s forced me out of my shell. I dunno if you’d call ‘em masking behaviors or just… guidelines, but I thought I’d share some stuff about how I try to go about dealing with socializing with folks, especially neurotypicals, in the hopes it might help folks like me who, growing up, didn’t have a rulebook for this stuff.

It’s by no means comprehensive, but maybe some of you can use it:

Open with kindness, folks are a mystery until you get to know them, but if you’re polite and assume the best unless proven otherwise, nine times out of ten, they’ll be the same way!

If someone is rude or disrespectful or unkind off the bat, it truly is a problem on their end, not yours. I know that’s one your parents might have thrown out without explaining, but genuinely, my experience has been that people aren’t good about compartmentalization, and they tend to let their bad mood spill out.

Similarly, it’s your right to disengage if someone makes you uncomfortable. You don’t owe someone your attention if they’re rude or too forward, and it’s not your obligation to correct their behavior. It’s okay to just move on!

Remember people aren’t mind readers- I know for folks like us, feelings can be Big and Present and Overwhelming, but from the outside, people might just assume you’re being sullen or grumpy. It’s helpful to explain yourself, what’s going on- don’t give ‘em your life’s story and try to lead with kindness, as above, but explaining where your head is at can help folks understand why things might be hard for you.

People REALLY like to try to fix stuff. If you tell someone who cares about you what’s going on and they try to throw a buncha stuff like “well have you tried this” or “maybe you should do this” at you, they’re generally not trying to tell you what to do like you’re wrong, they’re just not sure how to help and are doing what comes naturally- trying to fix the problem. It can help to open any venting with “hey, can I vent about this?” Since then the expectations are set.

People can only operate on the information they have, so it’s better to over-explain than not explain at all. Don’t throw out every single detail of what’s going on, just the basics, but “I’m feeling frustrated because of some unexpected news” or “Well, I’m kinda struggling with my relationship with a friend” can be enough for folks to understand things at the ground floor.

There are very few people in your life who are capable of taking on the weight of a friend’s problems on top of their own, and it takes time to learn who those people are. I know folks like us can make friends quickly and rush into trusting them implicitly, but people can sometimes take a while to show you who they are. And not every friendship is gonna be as deep as we’d like it to be. This is okay, of course, not everyone has to be best buds, but it can help a lot to take the time to wait for those people to show who they are.

Ask questions, listen to people, and know that it’s okay for there to be silence. It’s very easy to get excited about what’s stuck in your craw on a given day, but remember that from the outside, people might get worn out if every conversation is about what you’re fixated on. It’s a give and take, so try to consciously remind yourself to make sure to listen and give them room to speak too! It means a lot when you do that for people!

When you don’t know if someone is ignoring you or if they’re mad at you or what have you from a lack of information, remember that oftentimes it’s a product of ignorance, not malice. Again, you know how you feel about a situation, but they probably don’t. A conversation turning from what you were talking about, someone ceasing replying to you, not answering a question, etc is more often just unaware than they are actively being malicious.

Remember that it’s on other folks to tell you if there’s a problem between them and you, not on you to sleuth it out. If they aren’t properly communicating with you, that’s on them, not you- try not to beat yourself up if someone doesn’t talk to you about something before a molehill becomes a mountain, that’s a mistake all kinda folks make, and it’s something some people never learn.

Most of all, remember that for all the talk of social cues and neurotypical behavior, the truth is, everyone kinda… sucks at this social thing. All you really control is how you approach it, so if you do your best to come into a relationship of any kind with kindness and love for yourself and respect for others, most of the time you’ll come out ahead!

ADDENDUM: BIG one here- if you think you did something wrong, apologize! I don’t mean a big like- sobbing show of contrition, don’t grovel or write paragraphs, but if you speak over someone or say something that doesn’t land or make any little social mistake here or there (everyone does sometimes!) a simple little genuine “oh, my apologies!” Or “oop, my bad!” Not only makes them feel better, it can make you feel better too!

Hope some of these help folks!

[aeongstarss]

jealousy - somun x reader

warnings: drinking

genre/type: fluff, comedy, slight crack, jealous somun!! y/n

wc: 1k

synopsis: you and the counters get a new teammate, but he seems to grow a liking to you quickly. a liking that somun doesn't seem fond of.

title track: teddy bear - kim sejeong

a/n: hi all! since I made you guys wait forever for my last fanfic (go check it out) I decided to write a quick little one shot! I hope you all enjoy!

You and the counters scramble around the noodle shop preparing to welcome your new teammate. While Somun and Hana bicker about whether or not the decorations are centered, you help Ms.Chu and Motak set the table. 

You feel your phone vibrate and check the notification, “Guys! He’s one minute away!” Everyone drops what they’re doing and you all stand in front of the door, wanting to make a good impression on your new teammate. Somun notices that you’re feeling nervous, so he calms you down with a quick kiss and a smile. The counters are so desensitized to you and Somuns PDA at this point, so they continue shuffling around and straightening their clothes. 

The chairman walks in with your new teammate. He is tall with curly hair, but the most eye-catching part about him was the pore strip sitting on his nose. 

“This is your new teammate!” the chairman exclaims happily. You all bow and smile at him. He bows, “I’m Jeokbeong! It’s an honor to be a part of your team!” he says through a stutter. You all smile awkwardly, introducing yourselves. 

You bow again, introducing yourself. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you Jeokbeong!” you say through a smile. Jeokbeong stares at you and Hana with his mouth open. The chairman laughs trying to shift the awkward energy until Jeokbeong exclaims that you two are beautiful. 

You and Hana laugh and thank him. Somun has never been the jealous type, so he pays no attention to this; he knows you are beautiful. 

Once everyone has introduced themselves, Ms.Chu motions for everyone to take a seat at the table to begin eating. You sit down first, waiting for Somun to sit next to you like he usually does, but the person who sits next to you tonight is not Somun. 

Jeokbeong sits right next to you and stares at you with a smile. You awkwardly smile and move over a bit since he was too close for comfort. Somun sits across from you, not paying mind to Jeokbeong once again. 

Secretly, you wish Somun was more possessive. You want to sit with him, but he’s too worried about the food in front of him to say something. So you allow Jeokbeong to stare at you while you all eat. 

With the 4 hours of talking and drinking, it’s safe to say everyone is pretty drunk. Jeokbeongs attention has been off and on between you and Hana, so you just assume he wants a new friend. 

He has made a few moves on you, and you have noticed Somuns patience running low. Jeokbeong has played with your hair, tried to feed you, and continuously complimented you the whole time he’s been here. 

You thought Jeokbeong was just being friendly, until he puts his arm around you, using the fake yawn method. You jump and go to punch his arm off, but before you make contact with him, he’s already laying on the floor wincing in pain.

You look at him with wide eyes, covering your mouth in shock. “Jeokbeong! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you that hard!” you say through panicked laughter, finding his situation funny. 

He sits up and stares at Somun. You turn to Somun, but he is sitting there eating like nothing happened. “It was him!” Jeokbeong yells, pointing his finger at Somun. Somun looks up from his bowl, trying to act innocent. You laugh, hitting his arm from across the table. “You didn’t have to try and kill him babe! I thought we agreed not to use our powers on each other.” you yell through laughter. Jeokbeong stops his whining immediately and stands up. “Babe?” he asks with an exaggerated rising tone. 

Hana laughs, pointing at you and Somun. “They’re dating” she explains to Jeokbeong. He continues his whining, crawling on his knees to hug you. Before he can touch you, he freezes. Somun is staring at him like Jeokbeong is asking to be flung again. 

“Do you want to die this time?” Somun asks in a serious tone. Even his seriousness scared you. A childish “Oooo” comes from Motak while he sits back enjoying the tension. 

Jeokbeong frantically shakes his head no and apologizes to Somun. “I’m sorry I didn’t know!” You all laugh, as all of this is happening while you’re all intoxicated. 

“Somun, I didn’t even know you could use your powers while drunk!” Ms.Chu speaks up. Somun chuckles softly and continues eating. 

Jeokbeong stands up and hesitantly sits next to you again, this time with a 14 inch distance between you two. Somun shoots him a playful wink, clicking his tongue. 

After about an hour and a half of everyone laughing and talking, it’s time for everyone to head to bed. Ms.Chu stands up, signaling for everyone to go to their rooms. While Jeokbeong stands up, she grabs him by his collar. “If you’re going to be a part of this team, you help me do the dishes.” Jeokbeong whines, watching everyone walk off to their rooms. 

“Goodnight Jeokbeong!” you say through a drunk slur; Somun closing the door behind you two. 

You sit down on the bed sighing. “So... what do you think of him?” you ask Somun. “I think... I don’t like him.” he responds while changing into pajamas. You laugh, knowing exactly why he feels this way. 

“Somun! You were so happy this afternoon. Plus Jeokbeong is drunk, I’m sure he’ll forget about it tomorrow.” you explain to Somun. 

This seems to irk him as he walks up to you. 

He grabs your face and places a kiss upon your lips. He pulls away staring into your eyes. “You’re mine, okay? You better hope he forgets tomorrow!” he whines. You laugh at his cuteness, nodding your head. 

“and if he doesn’t forget. I’ll kill him!” he says through a pout. You continue laughing, standing up to hug Somun. “Don’t worry,” you say reassuring him. “If he doesn’t, I can ask Hana to erase his memories.” 

“Hey, weren’t you the one saying we shouldn’t use each other's powers on each other?” he asks. “I’ll allow it this time” you say. 

Somun smiles, giving you another kiss. He grabs your hand dragging you to bed. He exhales, “Okay okay, let’s forget all about this,” You nod in agreement. “Goodnight, I love you.” he says. 

“Goodnight, Somun. I love you too” you respond, snuggling into his warm chest; falling asleep.

[marta-bee]

More Aldarion & Erendis time. I want to take a step back from all the fun character-drama between our titular leads and talk a bit about the political situation. It's definitely turning how I think of the Numenor story on its head, but in a good way.

I've always thought of Numenoreans as prideful men who saw themselves as better than other men, their natural rulers, etc. Very imperial stuff. Very prideful generally, and pride goeth before, etc. Their thinking they could bring Sauron as a captive into their own land. The very questioning of mannish mortality. It's what did them in in the end.

A&E is set in a much earlier time though. Aldarion is only five generations removed from Elros, and was only born about 250 years after Elros died. And for the most part they're unconcenred with the wider world. You see this in Meneldur's pushing Aldarion to remain in Numenor and not go adventuring abroad, long before he married Erendis or even began courting her. His first duty was to love and know his own land, and for the people of Numenor to know him. It feels isolationist, but I don't take it in the modern Trumpian sense or even the America staying out of WWI while Europe bled and died sense. There's this idea that the Numenoreans have been given a gift of peace and having enough, and it's their job to live in that and let it heal their national soul.

Gil-Galad sends Tar-Meneldur a letter that changes that.

Ereinion Gil-galad son of Fingon to Tar-Meneldur of the line of Eärendil, greeting: the Valar keep you and may no shadow fall upon the Isle of Kings. Long I have owed you thanks, for you have so many times sent to me your son Anardil Aldarion: the greatest Elf-friend that now is among Men, as I deem. At this time I ask your pardon, if I have detained him overlong in my service; for I had great need of the knowledge of Men and their tongues which he alone possesses. He has dared many perils to bring me counsel. Of my need he will speak to you; yet he does not guess how great it is, being young and full of hope. Therefore I write this for the eyes of the King of Númenórë only. A new shadow arises in the East. It is no tyranny of evil Men, as your son believes; but a servant of Morgoth is stirring, and evil things wake again. Each year it gains in strength, for most Men are ripe to its purpose. Not far off is the day, I judge, when it will become too great for the Eldar unaided to withstand. Therefore whenever I behold a tall ship of the Kings of Men, my heart is eased. And now I make bold to seek your help. If you have any strength of Men to spare, lend it to me, I beg.

Should they keep living in peace, content in their little island's safety, or should they start preparing for war? And Meneldur knows he can't decide, abdicates the throne, and lets Aldarion step in.

It's a good impulse, to help, but it's borne out of a morally rotten premise. This is Sauron, of course everyone should help. But to think that the Numenorean uniquely are able to help, and that the men of Middle-earth are incapable of resisting Sauron sticks in my craw. It sets up the Numenoreans as having a natural nobility somehow missing from other men. Where what Glorfindel should be doing is recognize the potential for good in the humans not yet caught under Sauron.

Perhaps he's doing that too, or at least trying to. But the point is, I don't think the Numenoreans get to see that. They think they're specially responsible for resisting Sauron, which makes them special and other men almost chattel.

As an American, I'm feeling more than a bit seen, and not in a good way.

As a Tolkien fan, I'm a bit uncomfortable with how much I suspect Tolkien accepted this. It's not a stretch to imagine him viewing the English as the protectors and saviors of all those grubby men who could not be trusted to govern themselves. (Talking about Africans, Asians, and all sort of then-British colonies here.) I need to think about whether the rest of the Numenor story is a critique of that idea; whether this belief in their own superiority and their being central to fighting against Sauron was a subtle kind of pride that led to their fall or whether he thought of that later pride as something else entirely.

I like thinking they're connected because it makes for a better story. But I'm not sure if it's what Tolkien meant here. I know if he meant Gil-Galad's assessment to be genuine, I don't like that.

[megtheuntalented]

Nagini slithers through perfectly cut grass, trying to smell where such familiar magic has come from.

Nagini has traveled very far. After she felt the connection to her master snap, she was left wandering alone, trying to find whatever scraps of magic he left behind. It has been a long journey. Nagini has had little to no luck finding anything that remains of her master. The best she could sniff out were faint impressions of his magic. Nothing that could sustain her. But then, while traveling through the muggle part of London as a shortcut, she licked a beautiful whiff of her master's magic. Now, she's been following the trail for four days, trying to find the source.

She stops slithering when she catches sight of a small boy with jet black hair. He looks like he's wrestling with the useless plants in what Nagini assumes to be a garden.

Nagini takes the chance to taste the air again. The trail of master's magic leads straight to the boy. She determinedly slither closer to get a better taste.

Once she's hidden among the watermelons, Nagini flicks her tongue out once more. She lets out a surprised hiss. The hatchling doesn't just smell like master, no, he smells more like her! He's a vessel for the master too!

She swivels her eyes back to the oblivious hatchling. That begs the question, why is the hatchling in a place with no magic?

Her green body shines as she slithers up to the boy, finally catching his eye. He jumps and whirls to face Nagini with cautious curiosity.

"Why are you here, little boy," Nagini hisses to him. The hatchling's eyebrows pull together as he responds, "I live here, snake. I didn't know snakes could talk. What's your name? My name's Harry!"

Nagini wouldn't be surprised if the boy was sorted into Ravenclaw, as her master almost was. "My name is Nagini, and snakes can't talk the human language, you can talk the snake language," Nagini easily replies.

Harry blinks a couple of times, then frowns. "That doesn't make sense," he says in a small voice, "I've never met anyone else who can talk to snakes."

"That is because you are magic, child. Now tell me, what are you doing with muggles?"

Harry seems to ignore Nagini's question. "I'm... magic? But magic isn't real! I'm just a freak!" Nagini hisses out a sigh. "You are magic, or else you wouldn't be talking to me. Did you not know what you are?"

Harry gapes for a second, "No, I just... I just thought that I wasn't normal. My relatives seem to think so." The hatchling sighs mournfully as gazes back to the house behind them.

That's an easy fix for Nagini, "I'll kill them then." Harry whips back around to Nagini, "No! You can't just kill them! What?!" He tries to grab for Nagini, but she's already slithering to the house.

"No, stop!" Nagini give in to the little hatchling, and turns her head to face him, "Why not? They obviously don't like you, and anyone who doesn't like something of the master's should perish."

Harry ignores the master comment for now and replies, "You can't just kill whoever you want. I-it's wrong!"

Nagini sigh-hisses again but relented, "I still do not understand why I can't kill them, but I will wait for now." She slithers up to Harry and craws up his leg to rest on his waist and shoulders. Harry wobbles a bit under her weight. "Instead I will protect you, until you can defend yourself."

The hatchling hurriedly shakes his head, "You can't do that either," He squirms under Nagini, "They would just hurt you, too."

"I would not let them hurt me," Nagini says simply. Harry still looks unconvinced, so she adds, "It's either this or their deaths, little hatchling." Harry swallows as sweat slips down his forehead. He takes a small breath before giving in, "I guess you can stay. But please try and stay hidden."

Nagini bears her fangs in a grin, "I'll try my best little hatchling." Harry sighs before going back to plucking useless plants out of the garden.

[derangedhyena-zoids]

Hello, back with more disturbing, fucked up Zi biology facts re: Organoids. I'M SURE EVERYONE IS VERY EXCITED (or running away, idk) It always has bothered me I didn't have a solid behavioral bead on how Organoids went from hunting Zoids to teleporting/fusing with cores. Apparently my brain has been thinking about it on some secret extra backburner because I just thought of this all suddenly the other day:

Zoids in general have something like this as a "nervous system" of sorts as relates to their cores. wild and zoidian zoids were more organic-ish while modern zoids' are basically purpose-built

this is sort of how the conduit stuff grows (top) vs is is "populated" (bottom), but the end result is basically the same. You have a core "nerve" suspended in matter in a tube. this blueprint of internal conduit is true for all Zoids, including, Organoids. Except with Organoids the concept just went utterly batshit. so while a huge amount of Organoids' evolutionbeing so conduit-heavy had to do with reproduction (re: adding a whole new step to encase core buds in protective eggs) it also had to do with a heavily-utilised feeding strategy. As I've talked about before, Organoid colonies are hypersocial - they maintain individuality but are all attached to their colony's hivemind. This made them really distressing predators - because while they were smaller than much of the Zoid megafauna they hunted, they did so in groups ranging from a pack to a swarm. One that could perfectly coordinate at all times.

If you're familiar with how wild dogs/hyenas/etc tend to go after their prey you might see where this is headed. I'd post a picture but that'd be kinda rude on random folks' timelines, so if you really don't know google youtube videos of african wild dogs killing large herbivores. basically pack carnivores usually go for weak points like orifices to start ripping into things. which works great when the whole prey is made of food... but Zoids are encased in a lot of armor and the best parts are very difficult to get to. which would actually lead to extremely protracted and dangerous hunts because it takes so long to destroy enough of the Zoid to actually immobilize it

SO the genesis of the whole fusion concept actually lies in the strategy Organoids as a species tried to solve this with - attacks that could directly target the core. Basically a swarm of Organoids overwhelming something, chewing holes in it to access the "conduit" - then, while the Zoid is being overwhelmed by a bunch of Organoids still attacking it, a number of them cling on and shove their own, much smaller cablings up through these 'conduit veins', damaging things and eventually getting access to the core chamber. refresher from my organoid anatomy bullshit - there's three types of this cabling:

one of these is GI - these type usually connect to the craw/stomach but they don't have to (I realized in writing this last night/today that there's some function "rules"/descriptions for these cables I've never articulated, but I've had those in mind for a long time, I'll write them down sometime soon I guess) but re: everything above, In what's basically a starfish move Organoids shove their own fucking guts up directly into a Core to start feeding on it. It's very miniscule individually, but multiplied it'll rapidly damage and collapse the Zoid's core, stopping (and killing) the prey for Everyone

When Organoids became more benign, and Zoids weren't hostile to their presence, they found they could accomplish this same basic thing individually without, yanno, all the Horrifying and Death, so. everyone was happier the end

thanks for coming to my fucked up ted talk. that's why you follow this blog right? lmao

[jacqcrisis]

I’ve had this idea stuck in my craw that I've been bothering collaborating with @clinic-crew of a BG3 modern AU, but by modern AU, I mean it’s the same fucking fantasy everything as baldur’s gate, but now the world is somewhat equivalent to the late 1980’s/early 1990’s. Cars are everywhere. Computers are happening. Capitalism and consumerism are tightening their grasp on the willing yet helpless public. Fantasy pacman is a thing.

The story centers around Caedis, the world’s worst police officer who also happens to be Bhaal’s flesh made manifest into a tiefling who looks like the devil and probably is him as well. Caedis is unnecessarily cruel, malevolent, sadistic, gleefully abusing every ounce of his power at every conceivable moment as he knows he’ll get away with it because half of the police force is his fellow Bhaalists and also he and the high-ranking politician Gortash are in both metaphorical and literal bed together. They have a plan to essentially seize control of the city’s government through an infiltration of the police force, the introduction of the Steel Watch, targeted assassinations of Gortash’s political opponents, and a bunch of other gears that are already in motion.

Life for Caedis is great. He lives in a miasma of Bhaal approval, can do whatever the fuck he wants, and the second this plan all comes together, he’s going to murder Gortash and raze the city in the name of dear old daddy. Things could not be going better.

And then he fucks a vampire against his police car when he’s supposed to be aiding in burning down the Szarr Palace to take out another one of Gortash’s political opponents and a series of dominoes fall down from there. This ends in a coup where Orin, jealous of daddy’s approval and mad at her brother-uncle once again ignoring responsibilities to go be The Worst, ambushes him en route to Gortash’s estate, shoots him in the head with an enchanted gun, and leaves him for dead in a ditch.

Eighteen hours later, Caedis wakes up covered in dirt as the last vestiges of a dream consisting of a gold laden ghoul with a book and quill asking him ‘what is the worth of single mortal life’ fades from his mind's eye. He’s alive. The fog of Bhaal’s influence is gone for the first time since he was a child and there’s only one thing that’s crystal clear in his fucked up brain now:

He’s got to go fucking murder Orin.

What happens next in a tale as old as time: Murder Man Mcstabface has to go obtain a crew and a fuckload of magical weapons to stand a chance against Orin as he slowly regains his semblance of humanity under the extreme guilt and despair at his horrible actions now allowed to manifest in his brain post-bulletfication while also fighting the Urges that keep cropping up. He makes friends with people… somehow. He becomes a person. He regrets and wants to stop this evil plan he secretly put into motion.

He falls in love with the vampire he inexplicably saved from being burned alive in the Szarr Palace by fucking him against his car with whom he has an extremely fucked up relationship with and who he desperately wants to kill.

It’s a lot. There’s a lot more. But that’s the long and the short of it. If I knew how to write it, I would cause it’s stuck in my brain and I need this horrible, angry, emotionally stunted durge man to not be in my brain anymore.

[wrestlingisfake]

For the Sickos

I shouldn't let this bug me, but it's sticking in my craw. Kevin Kelly did an interview with Eric Bischoff this week, and had this to say:

"His vision of what wrestling is, for me, works best on a small scale. People always wonder why did PWG stay small? Well they knew, I think, they knew that if they went big that it would go stale fast, and they had to stay small to keep it special, to keep it niche. He wants to appeal to a niche audience with his vision of wrestling. He thinks he can convince the people to watch on a grand scale."

I'm no insider, but it seems to me that Pro Wrestling Guerilla stays small because it costs a lot of money to go big. They had a formula that was sustainable at a small level, and they didn't mind staying at that small level, so it wasn't worth taking a huge financial risk to try to expand.

Here's another way to look at it: PWG has been on hiatus since August 2023, because Super Dragon is focusing on his girlfriend's cancer treatment. Again, I'm no insider, but I suspect that if he wanted to, he could get some people to run shows while he's busy. But that would cost money, which would increase the promotion's budget, and it would alter the promotion's style, which would increase the financial risk. So instead PWG went on hiatus--not to avoid going stale, or to "keep it niche," but because Super Dragon is unwilling to incur the added costs/risks that would come with a different solution.

Super Dragon makes the right choices for himself and his promotion. But the fact he won't gamble big money on upscaling PWG doesn't mean the gamble could never pay off. The fact nobody will take that bet except Tony Khan doesn't prove it can't work. All we've established here is that a billionaire's son can afford to take chances that an indy wrestling promoter wouldn't, which is self-evident.

But here's what really bugs me about the PWG comparison: Tony Khan doesn't need to "convince the people to watch on a grand scale" because they've been watching for 246 weeks and counting. Granted, TV viewers and ticket sales are down from their peak. But ten years ago there were plenty of naysayers who would insist that a PWG clone would be "too niche" to draw 2,500 butts in seats and over 500k watching at home on a weekly basis. Even if AEW shuts down tomorrow, it's proven there's a much higher ceiling for that kind of wrestling than Reseda.

The only open question, then, is whether Tony Khan is leaving money on the table by booking "for the sickos," instead of doing whatever Kevin Kelly or Eric Bischoff or Jim Cornette or CM Punk would have him do. But this is basically the same question of expansion that we examined with PWG. Changing AEW's style to draw more "casual fans" would only introduce new risk. And it'd be a fairly big risk, since "casual fans" already have plenty of WWE to watch. As long as AEW is financially stable (and we probably won't know that until the new TV deal comes through), then TK doesn't really need to take that risk unless he wants to. Judging by AEW's new "FOR THE SICKOS" shirt, I'd say he's comfortable standing pat.

[oonajaeadira]

State of the WIP Address

Okay, y'all, I've been in a really weird place where I've been avoiding...pretty much a lot of stuff. Dunno if I have to talk to my doctor about upping my meds or what, but this is why I actually went on them--my depression manifests not in laziness, but avoiding things I need to do and things I actually WANT to do. Then I don't do them and it all starts building up. And then the to do pile feels insurmountable, like I'll never get to finish all these wonderful things. So I just...freeze up and roll over. Like a fainting goat. You'd think I'd be like "yay! lookit all the things to look forward to! I have years ahead of me full of things I really want to do! I should never be bored again!" But no. Can't do them Right Now? Fainting goat. It's weirdo. We've all got our weirdo and this is mine.

I only mention it here because I do State of the WIP Address to be accountable. Now, the weird thing is, I don't actually expect anyone to read these posts--they're boring and personal and totally for my own motivation. I just know myself and know if I put something out there, I'll feel bad if I don't do it and that should motivate me to actually do it.

But here's the thing....it doesn't work anymore. I'm no longer fulling for my own snake oil. The placebo has run out. If I know it's inconsequential, then my brain tricks me into thinking that I'm accountable to no one. And, in reality, it's true that I'm actually accountable to no one so the trick doesn't work.

Anyway. Welcome to Adira's brain where she finds her own thought patterns a fascinating psychological study and the lab results are inconclusive.

So I'mma try to twist the experiment a bit. Rather than list the things I know I can't get to right this second and feel bad about it, we're gonna let promises go and do it this way. It's not interesting to anyone but me and anyone who nerds out on process. But rather than listing the things I'm not working on, I'll talk about the ones I am, how it's going, what's in my craw about it, and maybe in my ramblings I'll clear the gears to start rolling again.

This isn't interesting to anyone but me unless you really wanna see how seriously I take my fic writing. Cringe if you want. I'm just being honest with myself. My fic isn't high art, but as with anything I create, I can't half-ass it either. It's "be satisfied with it on my terms" or bust.

STATE OF THE WIPS

I have one million projects happening, but these are the pieces I'm actively thinking about and working on at the moment.

SECRET SANTA Where it's at: I'm writing for someone I think is a wonderful person and want to do right by them, so the pressure's on. But at the same time, it's not. Because I know how accepting and lovely the person is and they gave me a lot of prompts and options and like a lot of the things I do and seem to like a lot of the types of things I like to write. I also know that this doesn't have to be over-complicated, that I can write my heart and it will please both of us. While I haven't actually opened up a doc to start, I know that it's the type of thing that if I have a little uninterrupted block of time, I can just sit down and it will flow. I won't say much about it here, but I will say that while it can 100% be read as standalone, it hits on a character/series I'm currently writing and acts as a kind of prequel, a reason for loving the reader as he does. It's something that is kind of missing in the planned series and I think this would be a nice opportunity to explore it before moving forward (and maybe helping propel that series a little) while also touching on one of the characters my giftee likes, a genre they are interested in that I hadn't considered with this character, and it will have a tone I think they'll appreciate. So while it's for them and being written with their likes in mind, I thank them, because it's also a little gift for me and my yearnings. What's stopping me: Time constraints and general anxiety.

TROPE FIC: MODERN DOM!PERO Where it's at: This one got a little sloppy and I'm working on it. I've been following @max--phillips' entries about what defines certain types of kinks and while my thoughts on dom!Pero started as true dom, they swung wrong when I started working on this, and now I'm just thinking myself back to the definition of dominant. And while I may still be missing the mark, it's helping me to think more about how I want to explore and frame this dynamic. It's also giving me a little trouble in that it's not coming out chronologically which causes me to waste time jumping around and retrofitting things. What's stopping me: I put this one on hold to start prioritizing the Secret Santa piece.

TROPE FIC: SEX POLLEN!OBERYN Where it's at: This piece is flowing chronologically. It's going to be longer than I anticipated and the first draft is about 1/3 done. I already know that after the first draft I'll have to do some shaping and I think maybe I got overwhelmed with the task I set for myself and that triggered my avoidance. I know where it's going, I'm excited for it, it will flow easily if I let it, I just have to do it! What's stopping me: I put this one on hold because I got distracted by tasty Pero thoughts. I blame @perotovar for the thots, but not the stopping. That's all on me.

TROPE FIC: ALPHA!JAVI Where it's at: I'm about 1/2 done with the first draft. Again, this one will be longer (and also more angsty) than I anticipated. I love love love where it's going though and reader and Javi's history is beautiful and sad and complex; I really love that half. I'm just now switching into the modern day section of it and have to make a few decisions about how I actually want it to go. My mind is over-complicating the story and I'm trying to wrestle it down a softer path. What's stopping me: I got distracted by the Oberyn story which is why this one's on hold and now this is all Inceptioning on itself.

GOOD. THINGS. TAKE. TIME. Where it's at: The asks are all sorted, there are only a few more sessions left before chapter 4. I just have to write it. What's stopping me: Here's the thing about PATS. If I was out for notes, I'd be pounding on this series, because it's my most popular one. But... really, I'm just here to dream up stories I like to tell. I put PATS down not consciously and not because I don't love him, but I got excited by other ideas. I want to finish it because I don't like having a bunch of unfinished projects lying around, but I also don't want that to be my #1 motivator for writing him. I want to enjoy it. I did enjoy putting the latest installment out, but I also don't feel like I'm letting anyone down if I don't hurry it, just because engagement is low. Again, I'm not here for the notes, I truly love the connection and the squeeing and sharing a yearn. We're all so busy now that it's tough to get to everything and the mutual timing is a bit off. That's okay. It's planned out, it'll get done, I just have to do it when I'm feeling it.

LEAVE OFF YOUR WANDERING: WINTER Where it's at: Finished plan. Yet to begin writing. What's stopping me: I was wrestling with this one for a bit because I had two directions it could go--soft and fluffy without much meat, or weaving all the details together and serving a story that gets rather dark, a little sad, and serves as a fix it. On one hand, I felt like I would be betraying readers by not keeping the euphoric escape. But I would also feel like I built this whole backstory that needed to manifest itself in a test for Joel and Meadowlark, as well as the fact that--other than backstories--there hasn't been any canon hardship or violence displayed. It's like I'm missing a huge chunk of who Joel and Meadowlark are. In the end, that's where the story wants to go, so I'm going there. And I have to not think about what anyone else wants, just me. Not just for selfish reasons, but I know that's when I do my best. It doesn't mean there won't still be fluff and a happy ending. It just means I have to write darkness and perhaps it will serve me better to do it in the season in which it takes place.

[sorryitisandy]

How many posts about Baldur's Gate companions having "inconsistent approval/disapproval" on reddit (and sometimes elsewhere) am I going to have read before it kills me.

This is something that has been sticking in my craw a bit, and this isn't the first fandom i've had this complaint about, but if you want a character to feel something akin to being alive then they can't be written such that their worldview, personality, THE WHOLE OF THEM is another mechanic for you to master.

Like look. There is a pretty big fluctuation between what characters are approving of by the end of the game, and at the beginning, and in some pretty extreme fucking circumstances. Astarion's knee jerks heavily on Raphael at first contact, because everything about that man, a powerful being with a silver tongue and no scruples, reminds him about Cazador. He's mean to kids, but seems to approve of helping them because his relationship to children is complicated. Laezal and Shadowheart undergo a crisis of identity over the course of the game that is a very harrowing experience for someone who has been inundated with exactly one way of life.

The examples go on, but also for everybody this whole ordeal began with Octodad and the tentacle bunch putting a little guy into your brain while the car galavants through actual hell. Things are extreme, and the dial doesn't exactly turn down in the events that follow.

Look my entire point, a point I've made on other games, is that while it is categorically important to video games to enable player agency, you do not need to indulge the players ever desire to "navigate your narrative flawlessly". The problem is that if you make every single little fucking thing in the narrative just utterly solvable like it is a game mechanic, you just rip all stakes out of your narrative and leave wounds in their place. The approval/disapproval of companions has a lot of inconsistencies on a surface level. When you start engaging with companions as characters and think about who they are and who they've been and who they are becoming, it will click.

[deepspacedukat]

Ok. DSD. Sweet, lovely friend. I had a THOT™. I was so excited to read the newest chapter of Praetor's Pride (as an aside, you know how sometimes a person knows what a word means, but has only ever seen in written and thus, has no idea how to pronounce it? I always thought it was pronounced PRAY-tor, which to me, sounds LEAGUES BETTER than PREE-der. Ugh. Anyway.), and for whatever reason, my brain got stuck on this part:

"His lips met mine for a moment, tantalizingly rough and sweet at the same time, before pulling back and leaving me dazed as the turbolift continued on its path. From what I'd been told, such displays in front of others, including personal guards, were usually avoided like the plague."

Now I have this idea stuck in my craw of writing a little one-shot from the perspective of one of the guards, who's just absolutely mortified by the display, but perhaps, while they're on DS9, he develops his own attraction to a non-Romulan and starts to get it, you know?

What would you think about me writing something like that? I wanna make sure I'm not stepping on any toes, since the idea spawned from something you wrote! LMK, hope you're having a lovely day!

Oh my god?? GO FOR IT!! DO IT! I'm absolutely insane feral full of joy that some of my silly bullshit inspired you!! Please do feel free! You have a guaranteed reader right here, I promise you!!

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE TAG ME IN IT IF YOU WRITE IT, BC I WANNA READ IT SO BADDDD

Ahem...I mean...uh...

*playing it cool*

Sure, yeah...whatever you wanna do...

[old-antecedent]

Do Not Mantle A Daedric Prince

You claim to wish to be a Prince. You know not what you ask. Let me inform you on the matter. Some, in their study of the Heroes of Tamriel, come upon a strange episode in the tale of the Hero of Kvatch. Others, in dealings with Sheogorath, hear odd claims of presence or agency during the Oblivion Crisis. This shall not be a lesson on that period. Instead, young aspirant, let it be a warning against trying to take the place of a Prince.

Souls are primarily to blame for your folly. Doubtless, you know the difference between the black and white Souls that litter your Arena. You have potentially even seen items enchanted with Daedric Souls. This is not quite accurate. Daedra have a Vestige which returns to the Void upon their death, should they not be made into an enchantment by some foolish wizard. This Vestige then travels back to its home plane before reconstituting itself. If you have ever encountered the same daedroth after killing it previously, you now know how.

A daedra can at most create a Vestige, even if their target would normally have an aedric Soul. Most see devoting oneself to a Prince as unwise for this reason. Your Soul will be forfeit upon your death, and even if they wished to keep you around, all a Prince could offer is a Vestige. This is a miserable existence for something that once had a Soul. A Vestige simply cannot do the same things a Soul can. The most common reaction is an endless cycle of painfully falling to pieces and reconstituting, usually over a period of months.

For my part, those who swear themselves to me are usually thrown into the Brain Hallway. Some are powerful enough to form themselves into crawling shibboleths.

Taking this into account, Mantling a Prince is an interesting sort of torture for the mortals who achieve it. Slowly or all at once your Soul morphs into a Vestige, and then becomes an indistinguishable component of the Prince. Your self eroding away, becoming something you do not recognize, until "you" are totally gone. Sometimes, however, a mortal is of enough note that their Vestige alters the Prince in subtle ways.

This returns us to the Hero of Kvatch and Sheogorath. Now, Sheo has been mantled far more than any other prince. The Greymarch always saw him pick some hapless mortal champion to become him while he went off to be Jyggalag for his one time that era. Until the final Greymarch, the mortal would always lose and the "real" Sheo would re-manifest, usually choosing to burst from inside the unfortunate sod in a sort of comedy routine. The mortal would be completely absorbed into Sheo's Vestige, maybe with a few traits picked up that made the Mad God seem a touch more neurotic for a few weeks. Haskill, Sheo's main chamberlain, was a particularly skilled mortal clerk before being eaten. This made him stick in Sheo's craw, as he was far too orderly, and he was quickly coughed up. Seeing this as an opportunity, Sheo put Haskill in charge of the "boring" aspects of running the Shivering Isles.

For the final Greymarch, however, the Mad God happened to pick a Hero. Not one half as strong as Ysgramor, mind, but one of great significance nonetheless. This Hero was enough to repel the Greymarch, breaking Jyggalag's curse. We held a "sorry we turned you into the opposite of your domain for millennia" party afterward, and Jyg was pretty cool about the whole thing.

More importantly, this meant there was no directly returning Sheogorath to pop out of the Hero of Kvatch. You may think this is your "in". Simply find a prince in need of a grand transition, step in and offer yourself up, and that's your ticket. Not so fast. Even if you were a Hero, you should check what Sheo's like nowadays. His sense of fashion has changed slightly (whose hasn't?) but he's just the same as always. Do you think it happenstance that the Hero of Kvatch fell into the exact same behaviors and patternlessness of the old Sheogorath? Sure, he references events from the Oblivion Crisis on occasion, but that's all that remains of that particular Hero now. In a few more centuries they will either be entirely gone or have been coughed back up into a unique Vestige like Haskill.

And you can't make yourself into a new Prince either, there's no space in Godhead for that. At best you'll become a kind of weird non-Prince non-God creature, like the Ideal Masters. I suppose if you're fine with that you can pursue it, but know that almost no one will respect you.

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 13: Budding Spring - Episode 5: Dawn of a New Era

momo has entered the chat momo: won’t having the fleur award be decided by voting be fun? it’ll be like a festival! Iv: want me to help w the voting? i can let my followers know momo: uhhh nope. the members won’t be happy with those kinds of votes and i’ll be happy if you just promoted their performances. thanks shiki: i’m sure it’ll be ok. mankai company can definitely get on the top of the rankings. momo: right right. everyone’s saying they’re going to vote, and that it’s time to show our power as a fandom. no sweat no sweat Iv: we’ll be rooting for you Kar: do your best momo: i will

-

Kazunari: Oh, there’s another announcement on En.com about the launch of a theater company.

Tsumugi: It’s like that on the bulletin board in Veludo Way too. Usually there’s only 1 or 2, but now there’s been about 10 of them.

Tasuku: There are also a lot of recruitment notices. And quite a few theater companies that were on hiatus announcing that they’re resuming activities.

Banri: I mean, with that large sum of reward money and no restrictions on entering, anyone would think of givin’ it another try.

Sakuya: Since it’s possible to vote during broadcasts, theater companies from other regions have a chance of winning too.

Sakyo: Even though the Board of Directors used to travel to regional areas, they were still limited to famous companies.

Taichi: There’s student groups announcin’ their participation, and celebrities and influencers startin’ up new companies.

Yuki: This kind of companies would receive a lot of SNS votes.

Citron: It’s like the Sengoku era’s rivalry of local craw craws! 

Tsuzuru: That’s rivalry of local warlords.

Omi: As Yukio-san said at the conference, the world of theater is being revitalized.

Izumi: It feels like the New Fleur Award has truly begun.

Homare:  To prevent the water from becoming muddy, the flow of change is needed. Although, if that flow is too strong it will become a disaster.

Muku: A disaster…!?

Kumon: What’ll we do if we get overturned…!?

Sakyo: Until now, we were trying to catch the attention of the directors with the limited resources given to us, but from now on we’ll need a different approach.

Azami: Guess we’ll need to think of some different method.

Itaru: Older companies such as GOD-za, Hyakka, and Yuzo-san’s company don’t seem to be making any particular moves tho.

Itaru: Seems like they all just asked for votes on social media.

Chikage: I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Guy: The votes during the pre-voting period do not affect the final election. Would it not be better to simply stay calm and watch our surroundings?

Azuma: Unless we carefully plan our strategy, we won’t be able to move when we have to.

Izumi: That’s true…

Kazunari: Director-chan, what’re we going to do about the workshop you were planning for the Spring Troupe?

Izumi: Ah, ahhh, oh yeah!

Sakyo: You can’t hold that in our current situation.

Yuki: How about holding it after the pre-voting’s over and things calm down?

Izumi: Good idea… Let’s put it on hold for now.

Kazunari: Okie~

-

Muku: 10 minutes left…

Juza: 10 minutes and 11 seconds to be exact.

Yuki: You’ve been acting like stone statues for a while now.

Misumi: Muku and Juza are both frozen stiff and won’t move~

Tsuzuru: It’s not like this will decide the winner. Let’s calm down, you two.

Banri: You say that, but you’ve gone and opened the fridge about 10 times now.

Izumi: Well, it’s nerve-wracking regardless.

Izumi: (They’re finally announcing the results of the pre-voting today… Honestly, even though it has no effect on the finals, it’s making me queasy.)

[Door opening]

Itaru: We’re home.

Chikage: We made it in time for the announcement.

Homare: We’ve all gathered here, one way or another.

Azuma: Something like this is best accepted as a group.

Tasuku: If the results are good, we can all celebrate together. If they’re not, we’ll know we’re not alone.

Citron: It is kinda like exam result announcements and so heart-chilling!

Kumon: It’s almost time… Ah~ I’m so nervous…!

Hisoka: … Ah.

Izumi: !?

Citron: Are the results out!?

Hisoka: I ate all the marshmallows…

Taichi: Don’t confuse us…!

Omi: Well, our popularity’s increased quite a bit, so there’s no need to be so worried, is there?

Tenma: We’ve even won the Fleur Special Award, and our ticket sales have been stable.

Taichi: Right! If we rank in the top 10, we’ll at least be nominated!

Sakuya: Even if we’re a little below 10th, we can improve our ranking over the course of the year!

Kazunari: Ah! The results of the pre-vote have been announced~!

Azami: The total number of entires hit 6333…

Kumon: This is too hard to follow from the bottom…!

Muku: But if we find ourselves too quickly, that’ll be another kind of shock…

Itaru: — Found us.

Sakuya: 70th…?

Taichi: Ehhh!? I thought we’d at least hit the 20s…!?

Izumi: No way…

Tsuzuru: It’s not some other troupe with the same name, is it…?

Chikage: Nope. For what it’s worth, I checked till first place, but this is the only MANKAI Company.

Itaru: We’re within 100, but…

Sakyo: When you consider that only the top 10 are nominated, this is low.

Sakuya: If this goes on, we won’t even be considered for nomination…?

previous episode | masterpost | next episode

NOTES:

(1) citron's craw craw line has him mistake the 割拠 (kakkyo) in 群雄割拠 (rivalry of local warlords) with コケコッコー (kokekokko, cock-a-doodle-doo), i figured craw craw is close enough to warlords to both fit and be funny

[duhragonball]

Were you aware of/do you have an opinion on the Dragonball theme park that is starting construction soon? On the one hand it seems like that Harry Potter theme park (which was a dumb idea, nobody serious cares about HP anymore), but Dragonball also isn't shitty, and Akria Toriyama didn't spend the last years of his life making sure everyone knew he was a transphobe (which J.K. Rowling is doing her best to do). Do you have a take?

I was not aware of any of this, so I don't think I have much to contribute to the conversation.

The article I just found was published only a few hours ago, so I guess this is a HOTTT scoop? Also, it looks like the thing is being built in Saudi Arabia, so I guess that's why this got announced in the middle of the night where I live. It's 3am here and I'm up early because I went to bed at 7pm and woke up around 1am.

Okay, so the Saudi connection is something I can talk about, because this sounds a lot like the same agenda that led to the WWE's infamous deal with Saudi Arabia. For those of you who aren't into pro wrestling, in 2018 WWE started putting on events in Jeddah and Riyadh. This has been controversial for several reasons, but the main sticking point is that the Saudi assassination of dissident journalist James Khashoggi took place in October 2018, a few weeks before WWE's second-ever Saudi show, Crown Jewel. The U.S. condemned the assassination, and politicians pressured WWE to call off the show, but the Kingdom paid a lot of money for the deal, and Vince McMahon only cares about himself, so they just went ahead and did the show anyway. There's other issues, but that one especially stuck in my craw, and it's why I canceled my WWE Network subscription and haven't watched their product ever since.

Basically, the Saudi government has been trying to revamp their economy to reduce dependence on the petroleum industry. The WWE deal is part of the "Saudi Vision 2030" project, which aims to increase the economic, social, and cultural diversification of the country by the end of this decade. Tourism is a big part of that plan, which is why they're paying big money for sporting events, live shows, and so on. Their plans also include a lot of political and social reforms, but this feels like an afterthought, especially to a lot of critics. For example, they announced a "Red Sea Film Festival" in 2019, but in order to put on such an event, they first had to lift a 35-year moratorium on building new movie theaters. They started allowing women to enter the King Fahd International Stadium for the first time, but that's probably just because they really wanted a packed house for these shows and concerts they're putting on.

The whole thing smacks of propaganda designed to distract the public from KSA's lousy record on human rights. When WWE was promoting their first Jeddah show, they ran a lot of video packages about Saudi Vision 2030 and talked up how cool it was that the country was seeking to modernize. Meanwhile, a lot of their roster couldn't even go to these shows for various reasons. Sami Zayn's a Syrian by descent, Noam Dar is an Israeli, and Montel Vontavious Porter is a former Muslim, so he might get executed for apostasy if he entered the country. The women's roster was a whole other thing. I think they were just left at home for the first couple of shows, and then they gradually started allowing more women to participate. And all those slick Saudi Vision video packages looked pretty hollow when James Khashoggi got murdered.

My take has been that KSA is just throwing money at their problems and trying to distract their critics. Saudi Arabia is practically synonymous with oil, and that's what made the country rich. I watched a video on this a while back, and if I remember right, they discovered oil in the 1930s and wanted to avoid getting exploited by the British and French, so they partnered with the United States. That prosperous relationship allowed Saudi Arabia to become a regional power and basically have things their way. The human rights problems were allowed to persist because they knew the U.S. would always back them up to protect their oil interests.

But over the last fifty years or so, U.S. dependence on Saudi oil has declined. See, it's not that Saudi Arabia has more crude oil than other countries. What made it so important in the petroleum industry is that Saudi crude is much easier to refine than other sources. So Saudi refineries can produce more fuel in a short span of time, which gave them a lot of leverage in that sector. But there's been a big push in the U.S. to seek out and refine more crude oil domestically, and that's cut into Saudi Arabia's prestige. Now, when rival powers like Iran start bothering Saudi Arabia, the U.S. isn't as quick to offer support, and that's why KSA is trying to figure out how to adapt to the changing times.

To be blunt, I don't know how the hell a Dragon Ball theme park helps solve any of this. If the oil revenue is on the decline, then it makes sense for a country to invest in other industries while the coffers are fuil, but now Saudi Arabia has to backtrack a lot of their draconian laws and authoritative policies to improve their public image. And they need to do it quickly, but not so quickly as to upset the conservative elements in the country.

Like, all right, let's say they open this park, and they really want people to fly in from all over the world. I know a lot of women in the Dragon Ball fandom. What kind of restrictions would they have to deal with in the park? Is there a stringent dress code? They made a big deal out of the historic first-ever women's match at one of those Crown Jewel shows, but the wrestlers had to wear black unitards under their usual ring gear. So they eased up on some rules, but you watch the show and you can tell there's still some rules in place.

I've met a lot of LBGTQ+ people in this fandom. Can they go to the Saudi Dragon Ball theme park? Can a same-sex couple hold hands as they wait in line to ride the Ginyu Force Log Flume? And I'm sure there's a guy at the General Entertainment Authority office who would assure me that it's all good, nothing to worry about, everyone is welcome, please come to the theme park and spend lots of money. But once you get there? Remember, James Khashoggi was a citizen of Saudi Arabia, and he walked into that consulate assured that everything would be cool, and then it wasn't.

You mentioned the Harry Potter theme park, and yeah, that whole franchise is a PR hot mess, but at least I don't have to ask these kinds of questions about who can go to the park without getting detained. That's the public relations mess Saudi Arabia has to clean up. At least with Harry Potter, they just have to distract people from one hateful, cranky billionaire. For most casual fans, "J.K. Rowling" is a name they barely notice in the credits. But Saudi Arabia's issues are baked into the government, laws, and history of the whole country. Reform is possible, but it isn't as simple as the propaganda makes it sound. There's a lot of damage that needs to be repaired.

I'm sorry, I kind of turned this into a rambling essay about Saudi Arabia's pivot to tourism, but for me that's the main issue here. The park might get completed and it may even do big business, but I don't think there's a lot of transparency with these projects. From what I've heard, the WWE shows in Jeddah and Riyadh don't actually make a lot of money. Much of the live crowd attends for free just to make the shows look more popular than they are, and WWE only plays along because they're getting paid handsomely for the effort. It just comes across like the country is spending lots of money to imitate a tourist destination without actually becoming one. So the Dragon Ball park looks like it's also going to be a means to an end. Someone in charge liked the idea enough to push it through, but that doesn't translate into success.

Oh, wait, I just realized: What if the park opens, then fails, and it gets abandoned? I really don't have any interest in theme parks, but abandoned theme parks kick ass. Imagine Dogpatch U.S.A, except it's Dragon Ball themed. That would be amazing. I hope I live long enough to see photos of it when it gets all old and decrepit.

[ladylooch]

Okay here is an idea for Timo and Emma

Somewhat angsty lol

So maybe life is really busy with the 4 kids and it’s been a little while where Em and T were able to have some time alone. So maybe every little either Timo does or the kids do sets Emma off and she is easily irritated and annoyed. Like maybe making lunch for the kids and they don’t want to eat what she has cooked or Timo is gone longer than he said and Emma missed her workout class. So Timo is like okay obviously you have some tension let me help you loosen up 🥵and so they run off during the kids nap time

By Emma’s calculations, she should be about to her cooldown right now in her pilates class. She should be sweaty, but relieved to have gotten a work out in with how crazy the family schedule has been this week. Instead, she is sitting on the couch, monitoring Logan and Liam as their play time borders on becoming a slap fest. 

Timo is still not home.

He was supposed to be home two hours ago. Emma keeps getting texts from him with updates. 

I’m going to be a little later than I thought.

Still going here, babe. Need a bit more time.

15 minutes or so and I’ll be on my way.

I just left. I’m getting home as fast as I can. 

Fuck, I’m so sorry!

Emma believes him. She knows those RPMs on that Mercedes of his are going to be roaring through the streets of New Jersey. She had asked for one thing this week. ONE THING from her now retired NHL player of a husband. It was to make sure that he was at home by 1:00pm so she could hit her pilates class. Emma knows he is doing hard work right now. He is getting more involved in his friend’s clothing company that he has invested in for years. Now, that Timo  has the time, he has been asked to be more of a decision maker. Timo is very excited about the prospect and Emma is supportive. But she has needs too. Very hot ones that have not been met by her husband in weeks. 

“Logan.” Emma murmurs, watching him start to pat at his brother. A string of words in Swiss German and English come bumbling out of his mouth with none of them being coherent. “Baby, no. Hands to yourself.” The twins, who practically came out holding hands, do not understand this concept. “Be nice.” Emma finishes. Another thing they don’t understand as two year old terrors. 

“Baby! I’m here!” Timo calls into the house before he looks around. His eyes land on his wife so close. “Oops. Sorry. I thought you would be upstairs.” He flips his wrist, looking at his watch. “Can you still make it?”

“At 1:45? No.” Emma snaps. 

“Okay. Fuck. I’m so sorry. Is there a later one you can go to… or…” Timo purses his lips at the irritation puling her eyebrows together. “No? Okay.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Um, how can I make it up to you?” 

Emma gives him props for the awareness and recognition and the genuine apology. But she doesn’t feel like she was asking for too much. One thing. In the millions of things that she has sacrificed for him in his career. Today she wanted one fucking thing.

“Make it on time tomorrow, please.” She says tightly.

“Yes, I will. Promise.” He comes to the living room. He kneels down by the babies then drops a big palm on each of the twins heads. “Hannah coming today?” 

“No, she is on vacation with her friends. It’s us against the kids.”

“Oh yeah, Tulum.” Timo grins. “Good mems, eh?”

“Mhm.” Em agrees. Timo craws over to her on the floor, literally on his knees. 

“I’m really sorry. You know that?” Emma nods. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay, can you just yell at me?” Timo groans, putting his forehead on her thigh.

“No. I don’t want to.” Emma shrugs. 

“This feels worse.” 

“Than me yelling at you? Good lord. We needed therapy more than we knew.” She leans forward, cupping both his cheeks. She kisses him deeply, letting her tongue swipe along the seam of his lips. He sighs, reaching a big hand around to the back of her neck. They make out like that, touching tongues and soft moans to each other until they’re both worked up. Liam comes to smooch their faces, breaking them out of their trace as Logan comes too. 

“Gonna bend that sweet ass over my knee tonight. When all the babies are in bed.” He murmurs hotly in her ear so the boys can’t hear. Emma smiles at him as he settles into the couch next to her with Liam. Logan curls into Emma’s arms. His little feet go over to his brother and he starts kicking. Liam begins to do the same immediately.

“Hey!” Emma and Timo say at the same time, grabbing the feet of the respective twin in their arms. 

“They just had to be boys.” Emma chuckles, leaning her back into Timo. He wraps an arm across her chest, gripping her opposite shoulder to keep her close.

“The universe knew I couldn’t have three girls.” Timo laughs as Logan starts to gnaw on Timo’s arm. Emma cups his little chin, wiggling it so he releases his dad’s skin. Emma smirks at the sweet grin he gives her. He looks like a little dinosaur with his jagged teeth. 

“Yeah, that is probably true.” She finally responds. 

Two more Livys would surely put Timo in an early grave.

[deadhumourist]

Dinner with a scoundrel

Summary: You're a yet-unmarried woman in Regency times and you have another society dinner to attend. You meet a roguish stranger that turns the evening upside down.

Pairing: Lord Ezra X F!Reader - Regency AU

Warnings: Olympic level sassing, typical sexism of that time, mentions of food, pain-in-the-ass parents who want to marry you off, fingering. No physical description of reader apart from one mention of "cleavage" (but not breast size). Age not given but parents are clearly frustrated at reader not being married so could be anything from 20-40+ in my mind? Reader still lives with elderly parents because I have no idea how they did it in Regency times.

Rating: Mature/Explicit

A/N: This is a tongue-in-cheek smut story, you'll have to suspend your disbelief for some parts - for this story they have modern underwear, okay? We're here for a good time, not a historically accurate time. Thank you @just-here-for-the-moment for beta-ing this <3

Like this? Masterlist. Taglist link in bio!

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You stare balefully at your reflection in the mirror. You rarely pass up an opportunity to dress up and step out, but by gods tonight you are just not feeling it. Tabitha, your lady's maid, spies your lack of excitement and squeezes your shoulder.

"You would do well to have a sunny countenance tonight my lady, there will be many handsome suitors who will be vying for your attention."

You sigh deeply, the air seemingly rushing out from the very bottom of your soul. 

"That's what ails me, Tabitha. Strings of uninteresting men pontificating on even more uninteresting topics while I smile like a doll on a toy chest. It is so boring."

Tabitha meets your eyes in the mirror, her eyebrows pulled low in a measure of sympathy. 

"I can imagine, dear heart. But you will need to find a husband soon, your mother is grumbling about finding you a match herself. And you do look so beautiful this eve."

You smile at her wanly and look down at your dress for the evening. The deep crimson dress with the high waist frames your decolletage appealingly and the colour is well-suited to you. 

A flowery brocade interwoven with miniscule jewels are shaped into a pretty second layer which frames your form and adds a certain refinement. You smooth your hands over it appreciatively and fidget with the deep rose brooch that your aunt gifted you for your last birthday. 

"It is a pretty dress, I must confess. Perhaps tonight I will enjoy dancing and merriment and forget about the duties of a single girl."

As a last touch, you fasten your gold drop earrings and apply a touch more lipstick, patting a dot of shimmery powder on your Cupid's bow. If you were going to be bored out of your mind tonight, at least you would look good doing it. 

The carriage stands outside waiting, your elderly parents already inside. You scramble into the small space in a decidedly unladylike fashion and take a seat next to your father. The coach starts rumbling away, swaying slightly as the wheels move over the smooth cobbles. 

Trying your best to look out the window, feeling your mother's eyes boring into you, you turn her way. Unsurprisingly it looks like she has been sucking on a sour candy and she casts a disapproving eye over you. 

"Are we not making any effort tonight m'dear? Do you expect that a well-to-do Duke or Viscount will spare you a glance when you offer so little as a companion?"

Your mother and you grated each other's nerves in turn. The two of you had a good relationship when you were growing up but she was the equivalent of the ‘popular’ girl in society when she was a young woman. She was courted by the well-known eligible bachelors in the kingdom. She had everyone eating out of her hand back in the day.

The fact that you were completely unbothered by the societal structure and its obsession with marrying you off to the first man to look at you stuck in her craw in a way that made her passive aggressive nature flare up like a fire taking to kindling. 

“No, I expect a well-to-do Duke or Viscount to stop talking to me because they’re as interesting and attractive as wallpaper paste. Can’t I just find someone who I like?”

Then, tired of being accosted before even being greeted and with exasperation bleeding into your tone, you added: “Leave me in peace, Mother. You snip all day long and it only serves to wound me.”

Your Mother, now suitably chastised and very unhappy about it, turns her head to look out the window. The clack-clack of the carriage on the road is only punctuated by her mumbling to herself about her spoiled child who has never had to face the realities of being alone for the rest of their life. 

The coach eventually rolls to a stop in front of an impressive-looking mansion, the entrance already buzzing with other guests filing into the entrance. Footmen and servants bustle around them to attend to their every need. The next moment, the coach door swings open, and a footman comes into view, his gloved hand reaching out to help you down the two tiny steps of the carriage. 

Once your parents disembark, you smooth  your dress down again to look slightly less crumpled from the ride over. Walking ahead of your parents, you make your way inside and join the line of guests waiting to be announced. 

At the top of the staircase, the host announces your party and you make your way down the stairs slowly, a few heads turning in your direction. As you descend, you mentally note the usual crowd that are also in attendance for this ball. 

Lady Eleanor Fitzwilliam and her son Daniel, the most ineligible of bachelors due to a case of fainting spells and an overbearing mother. You pitied him on some level; the fainting spells could be treated but you could sympathise with the maternal problems, which were unlikely to go away on their own.  

Twins Simon and Cecilia Heatherwell-Boden, two of the nastiest pieces of work you were going to find on any guest list. Perpetual gossips and not above spreading malicious rumours, this twosome is best given a wide berth. 

Mary Isabella Winchester, now there is a peach. Sweet in demeanor and intention, you sometimes felt a twinge of envy at her. You were good acquaintances, but she seemed to swan through life without any challenges or difficulty, while maintaining her wide-eyed, innocent sensibility.

Turning at the bottom of the stairs, you reach out to take the proffered red wine from the waitron. And as night follows day, the first sip of the lovely burgundy blend is soured by the appearance of Sir Hugh Wellesley. A smarmy man who thought the height of fashion was his cow-lick of a fringe plastered to his forehead, and a trail of cologne that felt like a sensory assault up to 5 yards away. 

You took an impolitely long sip of the wine before allowing him to greet you. 

“My, you do look fetching this evening; much too pleasing among all the old ladies and lords. Aren’t you getting tired of these old bores?” he says. 

He laughs conspiratorially and it is evident the irony is lost on him. The stare that follows is on the uncomfortable edge of lascivious and you can feel your hackles rising at the impertinent gesture. He continues.

“I hope you will grace me with a dance later?” 

You hold up your finger in a sign for him to wait. With the other hand, you make a show of sticking your hand between the swell of your breasts, rooting around a little.

“My lady, whatever are you doing? He asks hurriedly, nearly breathless with consternation. 

“I’m fishing your eyeballs out of my cleavage, it’s been in there for the last few minutes and I would rather like them back on your face as good manners dictate.”

You smile at him - sugar laced with arsenic - and he pales before making up some excuse about going to see Sir Podlington standing by the window.  

From behind you, you hear a voice, the gentle lilting accent immediately setting it apart from everyone else. 

“Such a tongue lashing will surely break skin on lesser men. I would endeavour to stay on your good side should I dare a compliment in future.” 

“Bold of you to assume we will meet again after tonight, Sir….” you trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blanks. 

“You can call me Lord Ezra.” 

You curtsy stiffly. “Lord Ezra” and you introduce yourself to him. 

He takes your hand and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles; your eyes following the plush curve of his lips on your skin and for the first time you feel an inkling of the night perhaps not being a complete loss.

"Are you joining the other gentlemen in the hunt for a dear wife, or is it pure chance that you're taking your leisure here this evening?"

Ezra can’t help the flash of teeth as he catches your glib comment. You are arresting, a crimson rose with thorns in a dreary garden of magnolias, safe and chastened.

If he is being completely honest with himself, you’re also a brat, unused to being on the back foot, and he was nothing if not a betting man.  

"Tis leisure, but by my own misfortune I have been corralled by every mother to meet a simpering, sweet daughter that I have no taste for."

He secretly hopes you would take the bait, the double entendre tantalising as it leaves his tongue.  

You lift one eyebrow in question, intrigued by his choice of words. 

"Does sweet and simpering not suit you, Lord Ezra? Perhaps your taste lies more in ladies who spend time on their knees and backs and require coin in lieu of skill from their lovers?"

He chuckles heartily at your barbs. Not at all discouraged, he presses on. 

"Coin is but a function of my profession, dear lady. It says naught about my skill."

A laugh bubbles up from your throat, a light, airy thing that hangs between you for a few moments. 

"I cannot comment on your skill, but profess it to surely be lacking if there is no lady on your arm who enjoys its benefit. Peer endorsement is such a thing, isn't it just?"

You smile at him impishly. You just impugned his honour as a man and lover and he is just standing there laughing at you. The next move is his, and you wait patiently.

Lord Ezra feels a tingle of excitement simmering in his belly. While you are quick with words, your inexperience shows. With a smile firmly on his lips, he takes in the fast heartbeat in the hollow of your throat, the excited little breaths escaping your lips between laughs. The way your eyes trail him, oh don’t think he doesn't notice. He can still feel your soft skin under his lips. He wants to tease you to the edge of ruin and watch you throw yourself off it. 

The next moment, the dinner bell rings out and guests start drifting towards the stately dining room. A long, ornately decorated table dominates the high-ceilinged space, crystal chandeliers hanging down like droplets from a waterfall, the glass clinking gently as the open doors let through the lightest of breezes. 

The table settings suggest that no expense is spared, the silverware polished to a bright gleam and the plates pristine and placed just so, down to the last measurement. 

Place cards with neat calligraphy grace every table setting, and as you take a seat at your designated place, you see Lord Ezra smoothly sliding into the seat right next to you. 

You peer over at the place setting. Lady Fitzwilliam is not going to be pleased with the usurper - you pin him with a look and then nod meaningfully at the card. Lord Ezra follows your eyes, smirks roguishly and then tosses the offending card over his shoulder.

You can’t help but be amused and a little intrigued. Of course, the untamed curls that gathers in the nape of his neck, and the way he fills out the longer, black silk-woven coat that is so fashionable right now is dashing. 

He places his right hand on the table while the left reaches out for his wine glass - he takes a generous sip and you follow the gentle press of his full lips against the glass. He’s an enigma - well groomed but wild, a gentleman with a taste for dangerous disregard. You wonder why you haven’t seen him at other society events. 

During the soup course, he leans over to you, his mouth pleasingly warm from the meal as his lips brush the shell of your ear. 

“It is my unfortunate luck to dine on such mild meals when the most exotic mouthful is right next to me." 

You grin at him. “Lord Ezra you forget yourself, do not make assumptions about my interest.”

Like a Cheshire cat, his teeth gleam in the low light when he smiles. His eyes are on the middle distance as he speaks. 

“My lady, I believe that it will be you who forgets herself, her name and her oblivious objections.”

With his words you feel your dress skim up your thigh and the next moment there are fingers tracing from your knee up towards the crease of your leg. 

A knowing smile unfurls across your lips. You're no stranger to teasing and with those hands? Shifting forward just an inch, you widen your legs a little more, encouraging him to trail further. 

Lord Ezra revels in the enthusiastic consent; under so many pairs of eyes this is the best you can do and his eyes glint mischievously. 

His long fingers languidly trail up and down your thigh, letting the short nails scrape deliciously against the sensitive skin on each upstroke. You inch forward a little more as you relax into it, but Lord  Ezra is infuriating in his patience and pace. 

The salad course arrives. His fingers trail all the way up to your clothed apex and he flicks his thumb out and presses the ball of it to your damp underclothes. The angle is precise and devastating. 

The sudden pressure on your throbbing clit almost makes you gasp as you're bringing the salad fork to your lips. The gold glints mockingly in the low light of the chandelier, daring you to be quiet. His thumb increases and decreases pressure slightly, creating a gentle pulsing motion that feels like nothing and everything at once. 

You steal a glance at Lord Ezra, who is quietly biting into a plump cherry tomato with gusto. A few moments later, the wait staff take the salad plates away, and he mercifully stops the light pulsating pressure but doesn’t retract his hand. 

He leans over again just as the next dish of fish is placed in front of you. 

“It is advised to be careful with this course. So many bones, a peril each. Any disturbance could find you choking so attention is of the utmost importance.” 

You take a bite of fish, thinking that he would surely need to concentrate on the meal in front of him. But just as you start chewing, his thumb moves away, and you feel his middle finger slip in the front of your underclothes, pulling at it. He raises an eyebrow at you in question, as if to ask if you want to continue. Wordlessly, you lift yourself an inch so he can slip the offending garment out from under your ass. 

It takes a while for you to feel his hand again but when you do, it’s rubbing your slick all over your clit and dipping his fingertip into your wet heat. The gentle breach makes you inhale sharply, when you remember Lord Ezra’s warning from earlier and you try to breathe evenly through your nose. It proves to be extremely difficult under his patient but relentless attention. 

He’s skillfully picking at the flaky meat in front of him, dragging it slowly through the butter-and-dill sauce and bringing it to his lips. The calm exterior betrays the traitorously skillful way his large finger plays at your entrance and clit, dipping and swirling, exerting just enough pressure and movement to keep you on edge. 

Sir Worthington, balding and lightly intoxicated, leans over to Lord Ezra and asks a question. You only see your companion nod his head a few times to show he’s listening before he answers the man. Without apparently paying attention to you above the table cloth, he wordlessly assures you he has not forgotten about you as his finger dips in deeper, languidly moving it until he is knuckle deep and grazing that spot within that you never manage to reach yourself. 

Sweat starts to bead on your brow from the sheer effort of looking neutral and you start wolfing down the rest of your meal to stop yourself from moaning out loud. 

Your mother pins you with a stare, from a few settings over, that could make a cactus wilt. Her lips are drawn into a tight line of disapproval as she eyes your plate and then your face, clearly very unhappy with the unbecoming way you’re stuffing your face. If she only knew. 

Lord Ezra straightens back up, and the servants come to take the plates away a second time. As the servant lifts the plate away from in front of you, you notice him looking over at you, mischief dancing in his eyes. 

You’re wrecked. This is the game he enjoys most - the barely-controlled breathing, the light trembling of soft thighs that frame a cunt that has been teased to within an inch of tolerance. He loves it. But you’re not tamed yet, he can see it in your eyes. 

The dessert course, a strawberry merengue nest laden with berry syrup, is placed in front of diners. 

You wait for Lord Ezra to lean over to you again but to your surprise, he doesn’t. He takes a bite of the merengue and while it melts on his tongue, slowly adds another finger to the already soaked one in your cunt. Your eyes shutter for a second at the delicious intrusion before they shoot open and you look at him pleadingly. You don’t know if you’re asking for more or less. 

As you bring your spoon to the dessert, he moves his hand, slowly pushing in, then dragging the two thick fingers out again. It feels incredible and you struggle to remember what it was you were doing. 

Lord Ezra hums appreciatively as he chews on a berry. You’re so wet he can feel your slick coating his hand to the wrist. Perhaps it is time now. 

After a few thrusts of his fingers, he pushes the heel of his hand against your engorged clit and you hiss loudly. 

Lady Podlington, to your other side, leans over and asks you “Are you quite alright dear?”

Oh god, this is the last thing you need while Lord Ezra is chasing you to a devastating finish. You make up a quick white lie. 

“The berries are quite tart, are they not? I have not tasted any as acidic this summer. ‘Tis good that there is so much syrup.” 

Lord Ezra, thinking of a different kind of sticky-and-sweet altogether, chuckles lightly on your other side. The sound makes your cunt clench around his fingers.

He’s relentless now. Thrust after thrust, he curls his fingers up to rub at that devastating spot, the heel of his hand gently pressing at your clit with every upstroke. You feel the familiar coiling in your belly, hot and overwhelming. 

But also panic, because you’re going to have your most intense orgasm ever with 40 onlookers. 

Anxiously, you feel the coil inside you stretch and stretch and you know you have a few seconds at best until you’re a writhing mess. 

You spot a fruit bowl nearby, and grabbing a peach, vault it over to the other side of the dining table, where it splashes loudly into an open soup tureen. The splash covers a handful of diners, and dismayed gasps and the scraping of chairs fill the dining hall. Luckily the ruckus directs all eyes to the offending disaster. 

Your cunt convulses painfully hard around Lord Ezra’s fingers, and you grab the tablecloth with the hand that isn’t clapped around your mouth to stop the loud moan from escaping. You try, but fail, to stop your hips from chasing his fingers. 

Lord Ezra revels in the moment your eyes pinch closed, your frown lines cease and your mouth forms an appealing “o” before you manage to cover it with your hand. You’re beautiful in your uncontrolled moment of bliss, and he slows down to work you through it. 

When your eyes open and your breathing returns to normal, he slowly extracts his hand from your heat, still lightly clenching in the aftershocks of a devastating climax. Not unkindly, he rubs a wet thumb over the side of your knee while his hand is on it, an act of reassurance and a wordless truce. 

You look over at him, your eyes blown out from pleasure, your chest heaving. Through parted lips you smile in defeat. You watch as he brings his hand up and sucks his finger into his mouth, swallowing your slick off it. He hums again, eyes closing in enjoyment for the barest moment. 

“The sweetest honey is harvested from the most dangerous bees; someone will need to inform the cook that his efforts this eve have been outshone. Wouldn’t you agree?”

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