#though i might need to get a photo of myself with this wig on *without* the ears to use as a reference

[thevioletcaptain]

this just popped into my head for no apparent reason, and after spending several minutes trying to find it on my blog i discovered that apparently i never shared anything from gish 2021 on here???

anyway. here's me as frodo -- a hobbit and a model -- struggling in the outtakes of a fake infomercial for proudfut, a hobbit foot-hair growth solution. the actual infomercial is here 😅

[erodasfishtacos]

Three Minutes

Prompt: Harry slips up and it’s only right his wife serves him a little punishment.

Word Count: 3.2 k +

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (sexting, dirty talk, public, subby!h)

AN: I’m excited to share this!! I’m pretty sure I’m going to do a part 2. Let me know if you’d like to see this! I’m dedicating this to @harrywritingsbyme because she’s an amazing writer and you need to read everything of hers! Requests open ☺️

Reblog if you can!

Harry was dreading his interview with Howard Stern. The guy was an obnoxious prick who had no filter and liked to put people on the spot - it’s what he’s doing right now. 

You were off to the side, watching the interview next to Jeff. It was matter of time before Howard brought you up to pick and prod at your husband.

“So Harry, you’re married, yes?” Howard asks, typical sunglasses on and curly permed hair donned. His mouth a little to close to the microphone.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry smiles tightly, hands rubbing on this upper thighs. He spares a quick glance over to you.

“She’s here, right?” Howard looks over at you and winks, “Fucking gorgeous babe, huh?”

You roll your eyes at the interviewers remark and Harry’s isn’t pleased but nicely responds, “She’s amazing, way out of my league.”

Howard laughs, “Now I have to ask you, does she tour with you?”

Harry replies, “Yeah. For the most part, sometimes she’ll go off to visit family or friends for a bit.”

The interview smirks, “Does she get worried you’re going to fuck other people while she’s not there? I mean you have girls falling at your feet. It must be hard to avoid temptation.”

You blink owlishly, attempting to contain the offended scoff bubbling in your throat. Jeff snickers and you send him a elbow.

Your husbands face can’t hide his annoyance at the question, “Are you asking me if it’s hard not to cheat on my wife?”

“I mean you could have a line up of girls after every show willing to blow you. I couldn’t be satisfied going home to the same thing every night.”

The band is looking back and forth at each other - clearly uncomfortable. Mitch’s face completely blank - of course.

“Well, I mean - I think that kind of stuff like...people going crazy over you was exciting when I was a bit younger. But no, I mean I’m very much in love and also consider myself a monogamous person.”

“Man, I mean - some of the songs you write about her? Watermelon Sugar, that’s clearly about eating her out,” Howard laughs, the tune playing softly in the background.

Jeff nearly chokes on the water he’s drinking and you pat him hard on the back - as payback for making Harry do this interview.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pussy so good I’d write about it,” the interview jokes crudely. The women interviewer tittering in the background at his antics.

Harry fumbles, “Uh-uhm, it’s not uh- necessarily about anything or any act like...in particular. Just about having a good time with the person you love.”

The female interviewer who stays mostly quite chirps in to break the tension, “Is it hard to be long-distance when she’s not on the road with you?”

“Not at all. Most of the time she’s with me but we’re lucky we have technology that helps us not feel so far away from each other.”

Howard smiles, “How do you not go crazy being without sex for long amounts of time?”

It’s odd how obsessed this guy is with sex. As well as painting Harry as some sex-crazed rockstar who can’t go a day without.

Harry then goes on to put his entire, big ass foot in his mouth. “Y‘know that’s uh-that’s what good about FaceTime and Snapchat.”

The interviewer grins like a predator at Harry’s admission. You’re face is bright fucking pink. You’re gonna murder him.

“Well you heard it here first, folks. The key to how Harry Styles - one of the greatest artist of his time- keeps a happy relationship with his wife while he’s on the road. Dick pics and FaceTime sex.”

Harry glances over at you, his face apologetic as he already knows he in trouble.

You’re not that embarrassed - it not like it’s a weird thing to do but you didn’t want him talking about it with a trashy talk show host. 

The interview is almost over which is good because Harry’s about to lose his temper after he’s asked about his step-father’s passing and the stalker who was harassing you two.

During the interview however, you get a wonderful fucking idea as easy payback for Harry’s little slip up.

After Harry’s tossed his headset and microphone pack off with a little too much force to be unnoticeable - he’s sliding up beside you.

“Baby love,” He murmurs sheepishly into your cheek, nuzzling there for a moment, and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“You did good, H,” You reply softly, landing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to brush his hair off his forehead.

“Y’not mad?” Harry asks warily, knowing he got nervous and gave a little too much information.

“No baby, not mad at all,” Your voice steady and believable. It was true - you weren’t mad, just a little annoyed.

He seems confused. He knows you like the back of his hand and usually, you get peeved when he says something in interviews you’d rather the word not know.

Like the one time he let it slip you had an affinity for hooking up in hotel pools after dark. Prat.

**

Harry multiple appearances that day and it ends in a dinner at a fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills with big wigs.

You were invited but declined, despite Harry’s pouting and whines for you to go. You were the only thing that made these work obligations go faster.

However, you had other plans and a little bit of revenge to play on your unsuspecting husband.

All in good fun - of course.

**

Harry sits down with a group of people from his label. They’re all dressed in tight suits and rolex watches.

Harry on the other hand is in a flowy button-up only halfway done and a tight pair is skinny jeans. Jeff is dressed pretty casually too.

They were talking about tour dates and had just received their appetizers when he gets the text from you. Your name in his phone as baby love.

Harry nearly chokes on his water when he opens the message to reveal an image of you nearly naked in your shared bed. You skin tone standing out against the baby blue comforter.

You have one of his vintage tees on as well as some creme boyshort panties. The shirt is lifted though, rumpled up by your collarbones to reveal your breasts.

Harry wants to drool over the picture but doesn’t want to risk anyone else seeing his wife in any state of undress. So he quickly responds.

Baby, I’m at dinner.

You reply with another picture. A hand tucked down your underwear, cupping your heat. He can see the outline of your fingers underneath the thin fabric.

Already have something you could eat.

Harry can already feel himself twitch in his jeans. Cut it the fuck out now

Another. Fucking. Picture. Comes through.

This time you’re completely stripped, tits visible with soft pink peaks, and a hand strategically covering your cunt. 

Make me, H.

It clicks what game you’re playing. You rarely sent anything risqué when you where together because you had each other physically.

Harry curses under his breathe, locking his phone and pushing back his chair a little too fast - excusing himself to the loo.

As soon as he clicks the lock on the single-person restroom, he’s pressing on your contact information and you pick up on the very first ring.

“You bloody brat, I’m out at dinner,” Harry hisses at you, giving himself a rough squeeze through his tighten trousers.

All he hears back is a breathy moan. He’d know that sound anywhere - you’re touching yourself.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?” Your husband demands, but the clipped edge in his tone tells you how much it’s affecting him.

“Just a little payback, babe...for spilling our dirty secrets,” you hum innocently, deciding to send him another picture.

It’s a simple photo without context some might not even understand. It’s just your hand but your fingers glistening with your arousal. 

Harry’s hand is about to crush is phone into bits as his eyes roam the picture. He was nearly panting, already able to imagine the taste and smell.

He takes a deep breath before he threatens you, “if you don’t pull your desperate little self together right now- I’m not going anywhere near that needy cunt and I’ll make you spend all night choking on me.”

Instead of the typical, sad whimpers he expects to hear - he receives a patronizing, high-pitched giggle.

“That’s not how it’s going to work tonight, H,” you inform him in a matter-of-fact manner before continuing, “we’re playing by my rules.”

Your husband laughs in disbelief, echoing against the bleak bathroom walls, “and what those rules, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to go sit through your nice little dinner, rockstar. And I’m going to send you pictures, maybe some videos to watch to keep you entertained. If you don’t open them within three minutes each time and reply - you’re not coming tonight. The couch will have a blanket and pillow ready for you.”

If he was in charge, he’d laugh and remind you that you two have three lovely guest rooms he could choose from. But he doesn’t want to push it.

“Fuck,” Harry spits, having to cram his hand into his jeans to adjust himself so he doesn’t look like a pervert when he goes back out.

But he was so fucking game.

He’d do anything you wanted from him - no matter if he could embarrass himself in front of business partners or fans. He was besotted, whipped, whatever you wanted to call him.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You coo tauntingly, from the other end of the line. Basking in his little huffs of air and the agitated lift in his voice.

“Yeah, m’gonna be good,” he murmurs gruffly, his demeanor had changed now that he wasn’t in charge any longer - always willing to let you be dominant when you wanted to be. 

It wasn’t often - but when you did, Harry would fall into a nice, fuzzy headspace of compliance and submission. He always wanted to please and this amplified all of his desires.

“Best husband I could ask for, you know?” You reward, knowing that the games are just getting started and you wanted to make this last.

“I love you s’much,” Harry automatically returns, with deep devotion and honesty. His voice as sweet as maple syrup.

“Are you hard, H?” 

He grips himself, like he’d just remember, “m’really fucking hard for you.”

“Snap an picture for me, pull yourself together, and then go back to your table - don’t forget the rules.”

“Yes ba-“

Then you end the call while he’s talking.

Harry’s a little shaky as he swipes onto his camera. He grips the thick outline of his cock, rings glinting in the dull lights, and takes a picture.

He hopes it’s good enough and quickly sends it before splashes some cold water on his face and thinking of anything but his naked wife laying at home in their bed - wet and horny.

Jeff gives him a side-eye when he sits back down, casually throwing a napkin over his lap because he can’t help the semi that refuses to go down all together.

“You alright?” His manager asks him, the others still in the throws of tour venues and vendors discussions.

Harry nods, lying easily “the missus couldn’t find her phone charger - thought I nipped it.”

“You do love to steal those,” his friends agrees before cutting off one of them men to suggest three days at Madison Square Garden instead of two.

Harry’s clutching his phone like a lifeline, anticipating the indicative text vibrations that let him know you’ve sent something.

However, despite how many times he checks, fifteen minutes pass and still nothing has sent from you. He almost starts to worry if you’re okay.

But just like the sneaky little thing you are, you wanted to give him enough time to calm down and relax before rilining him up again.

When it finally alerts him, he’s unlocking his phone and opening the message thread as fast as possible. 

The picture makes his jaw almost drop on the fucking carpeted floor. You’re in one the large closets in your home- the one that holds all of his Gucci suits in particular.

There is a massive floor to ceiling mirror in this room that you’re standing in front of. You’ve slid on one of his custom silk Gucci button-ups that has styles embroidered on the breast pocket without doing doing up any of the buttons.

He’s an absolutely goner for you in anything that makes you look like his property - the large engagement ring and wedding band on your left ring-finger satiates that feeling quite well.

It takes he a moment before he realizes what else you’re wearing. Your fucking collar. It sat tight around your neck, the expensive leather biting into your skin.

Your one hand was holding the phone and the other had a hand teasing at one of your hardened nipples through the silk fabric of the shirt.

He keeps his phone in his lap with a dim light setting so nobody can risk a chance at seeing such explicits pictures of what’s his.

You look so good with my name on you, baby. Please, want to see you in just the collar, take off the shirt.

Harry fumbles along with the conversation, that’s revolving all around him, “Yeah, I loved Argentina. Definitely want to got there again.”

Buzz.

How’d you already forget I’m in charge? Maybe I’ll just go to bed if you’re not going to follow instructions.

As punishment - if you can really call it that - in the next image you don’t have the collar on any longer and you’ve done up a few buttons on the silk shirt.

Harry feels panicked at the thought of you stopping. He was in a nice, soft headspace clinging onto anything you were willing to give him - desperate to make you happy.

I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be good for you. You’re so fucking sexy. I can basically taste you on my tongue.

“Harry?” Jeff draws him out of his haze. He’s looking at him expectantly, eyebrow quirked, and a martini in his hand.

“What did you say?” Harry asks, eyes itching to dart back down to the screen of his mobile.

“Would you want Kacey to open for you again in North America?” Jeff repeats with annoyance.

“Oh, uh-yeah, that’d be great,” he tells them without really think about it.

He should be paying attention to this pretty important meeting but he can’t when he gets another alert.

The video is back in the bedroom, your delicate fingers sliding down your torso with the button-up pooled around your ribs.

Your hand slowly, at a near crawl- traces down with the camera until the manicured tips of your fingers are at your mound.

Harry’s stomach is tensing in excitement as he watches your fingers dip into the part in your slick, swollen folds.

He has to bite back a groan when the video cuts off and he reads the text below the attachment.

Was this the pussy you enjoyed eating so much you won a Grammy writing about? Was Howard right in his interview?

If Harry was in charge, he would have delivered a few resounding smacks to your arse for how cocky you were being - despite it being the absolute truth.

Did he write and win a Grammy based on a song about how much he loved eating his wife out? Sure fucking did.

Baby love. Yeah, wrote it about you. Write all my songs about how much I love you and your body. Everything is yours.

Harry is so good when he’s subby - is the thing.

Harry was a sappy sod anyways, always ready to tell you how much he loved you and thousand of other sweet things. This just amplified all of his warm, fuzzy emotions.

Send me a picture of your left hand

He hesitates for a moment, still nodding along to the ebb and flow of the business talk but having no actual idea what they’re talking about.

Harry places his large, wide hand flat on the table in front of him. He knew why you wanted his left hand - you were just as possessive as him. 

You want to see his long, slim fingers that feel so good inside of you. You want to see the glimmer of his wedding band as well as the tattoo of your name on the outer curve of his hand.

He doesn’t think to turn off his flash. It ends up going off in the dimly lit restaurant and blinding the table, reflecting off the silver flatware. 

He looks like a complete knob - taking a picture of his hand but also something weird Harry may do anyways and upload to his Instagram.

The men blink a few times and look at him with a confused expression. Jeff jabs him roughly in the side.

“Uh, snapchat streak,” he mumbles, tucking his phone back into his lap and sending it.

You were cutting it close, babe. 2 minutes, I don’t like waiting. But fuck, who’s name is that on your hand, who’s that ring for?

You, you baby. All of its for you, promise. I belong to you, only you for the rest of my life.

The response is quick.

But...you have girls falling at your feet, lining up to blow you.

A direct quote for the interview today. Brat - she knew how he hated when people assumed or talked like he had no self control or morals.

Only want your mouth, your cunt, your tits. So bloody gone for you, baby. Please send me another video.

He really shouldn’t be egging you on.

Your being greedy but you’ve been following the rules so I’ll allow it.

The video does not disappoint. You’re hand is nestled down between your thighs, pinching at your puffy, stimulated bud. Just the amount of pain you like. It’s a short clip but it has him wriggling in his seat.

He watches it again but before he can finish it - Jeff is snatching his phone out of his shaky hands and tucking it into his own pants pocket.

The manager’s obviously sick of the lack of focus and honestly, how disrespectful Harry’s being which is something he usual never is.

“Pay attention,” he whispers with a sharp, irritated tone before clapping Harry on the back to play off the scolding to the group.

Harry feels a knot form in his stomach as his phone sits stagnant in his friends pocket. His wife sitting, impatiently waiting for his response that she’s not going to get.

He watches his vintage wristwatch as fifteen minutes pass, he hears a few buzzes from his phone that go unattended.

Harry’s not fuzzy anymore - well not in a good way. He has anxiety bubbling in his tummy and his semi had finally disappeared from nerves of disappointing you.

He decides to engage in the conversation to keep his mind off of what is waiting for him at home. He craved to look at those images and videos again. To have it in real life.

**

It had been three hours since he responded. The people at the table insisting on dessert and alcoholic coffees despite Harry saying he was exhausted from a long day of promo.

At the end of dinner, Harry would love to lie and say he’s recovered from his shakiness but he hadn’t.

After shaking the hands of the record label men, he walks to his car with Jeff. He gets a nice talking to before his phone is being placed back into his hand and he’s sliding into his obnoxious vintage Ferrari.

He takes a deep breathe before he unlocks his phone. The buzzes he heard where not all from you. A few from Twitter, his mum, Niall. There was only one from you.

Game Over. You lose.

—

Thank you for reading💕🥺

[katsidhe]

15.20 Final Thoughts

Supernatural is over, and somehow, despite itself, it did the very best it could to please me. That was always going to be an impossible task. But truly, sincerely, that finale was as close to my desires as the show could ever bring itself to come, and so, so much closer than I ever dreamed it would dare.

I am so, so glad that no other regular characters were involved (Bobby aside, but he was brief). How better to encapsulate their own emptiness? How fundamentally fitting, than in the epilogue to their final battle, wherein the entire world beyond them was erased, the wider universe is merely set dressing for them to move through. And it was so quiet this way. This finale wasn’t overcrowded or rushed. It kept its own peace. And it preserved the tangible claustrophobia that 15.19 invoked: that tangled, lovely, solipsistic, toxic conviction that these are the only two people on earth that matter.

It’s unclear exactly how much time passed between 15.19 and 15.20. I like to think it’s been at least a year, given that they’ve settled into routine and that their grief seems less fresh. (Although yes, the concept of Dean dying on his very first hunt without a resurrection available is hilarious, I must confess.) Their calm domesticity, their peace, was lovely to watch (Sam kicking the laundry machine! Sam with wet hair! Sam running! Sam cooking, Sam looking a little less bulky than usual, and happy!) But man, it really is Dean’s world, isn’t it? Even the DOG, which really, really, really could reasonably have been primarily Sam’s, was Dean’s dog first and foremost. Then on Dean’s say-so, they get in Dean’s car to drive to a pie festival for Dean. Sam is perfectly content to go along with all of it.

As if we hadn’t gotten enough delightful fanservice, we also got one last scene of Sam threatening to torture someone to death. :) what a king.

I love that Dean died to an OSHA violation while fighting a random loose end from season 1 (which, by the way, I CALLED IT, I am so proud of myself). It’s perfectly mundane. I truly and deeply do not understand anyone complaining that Dean should have gone out in a way that’s more epic. He’s been there, done that, guys, and remember how miserable it was? Now there’s no cosmic safety net. Dean died in a broken down old barn, saving some kids. Moments like these are when Dean is at his best, at his most fundamentally sympathetic: when he’s not trying to control the shape of the universe or dictate righteousness or let his anger drive himself down into a destructive spiral. He’s just putting his money where his mouth is. He’s not making a broad moral statement. He’s simply putting his life on the line to defend someone who needs defending. It is not an unworthy end. It’s so much better than going out to, god forbid, God.

Did Dean earn a lifetime of peace? The concept of just desserts is fraught. But I also don’t think it’s something Dean wanted. He wanted to keep killing things in tetanus-infested barns until he died. He got what he wanted. And while the arc of his wants has adapted over the years, MOTW hunting is fulfilling for him.

Dean’s deathbed speech was, oh man. It got me good. Like many of the things I loved in this episode, it was quiet. No desperation, no revising history (or not too much, anyway). Just, “stay with me, please. I love you. Tell me it’s okay.”

The quiet of Sam’s grief, alone in the bunker. How still his face is, until for a little bit it crumples again, and then it comes back and goes still. He’s not trying to control his reactions or press back against his sorrow. There is no work to do, nothing to avenge, no one to find, nothing to defeat. He is alone, and the washes of visible grief simply come and go in waves that he doesn’t try to fight or force.

I need the gif of him flinching at the toaster. His startle reactions are my favorite thing. He’s alone underground, there is not a living soul for miles and miles, he’s just buried his brother, not for the first time, but this time, he knows, for the last. And the goddamn toaster goes off and he cannot control the way his heart leaps up into his throat and the way every one of his muscles tightens.

Sam grows old. Sam. Grows old. Sam grows old! SAM GROWS OLD.

Ohhh my God, Sam grows old. Without Dean! Without hunting! Without Cas! With people outside that claustrophobic world, beyond the four tight walls of SPN, beyond the people approved by Dean and by Fandom, who give him peace and love and fulfillment! SAM GOT OUT. Even with the truly terrible wig the image brings me to actual tears. I cannot believe SPN would allow him to have this. I cannot believe that the show let him be happy without Dean. I want to read the set of novelizations about Sam’s recovery.

Of course this was the only way for Sam to get unwound, and of course it had to happen offscreen in flashes. Thank god for the ambiguity. There’s so much potential there, years and years, we were simply told: and at some point Sam’s life gets better, at some point his mental health improves and he feels safe enough to start a family, with someone, and at some point he has a child, and he dies peacefully, he dies loved and with people who love him, and dammit I’m getting weepy again.

Sam quit hunting. Not in a sudden jolt. We see him leaving the bunker on another job. But when he leaves the bunker, he leaves for good. He has so much knowledge, but he does not preserve the Men of Letters. He does not honor their legacy of extermination and experimentation. Maybe he gives someone else the keys, for the books. Or maybe he’s digitized it all, and maybe it’s done.

Maybe his wife is Eileen, or maybe it’s Amelia, or maybe it’s Piper or Cara or maybe it’s someone new. Maybe it’s not even a woman. And maybe she’s a hunter, but I hope she isn’t, and when Sam tells her, haltingly, in fits and starts, the bare outline of the truth, she looks at him and she believes him. And she understands the shape of the trauma he carries, even if Sam can’t quite speak the details, and maybe Sam goes to therapy. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he wakes in pain and fear for many years, but over time, it dulls.

Sam’s son is still a young man when Sam is on his deathbed, probably in at least his eighties. Think about the mountain Sam had to climb to reach that point. How many years and years of work did it take before Sam felt safe enough to want a child? How long for him to gently conquer his terror at the legacy his blood might carry: Lucifer and Azazel are dead, he knows this, but how long before he lets himself believe it enough to permit the risk? And then he raises his child, not in fear and loneliness, but with love and support and care. And he makes sure his son is protected, that he knows to salt his thresholds and ward against demons, but his son will not suffer the way he suffered.

Maybe he untangles his thoughts about Dean, maybe he learns that to feel angry with his brother is not to betray him or to dishonor his memory, maybe he comes to a more complex understanding of their relationship. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he simply enshrines Dean, and Dean’s memory becomes ever more golden and untarnished, and the Impala becomes truly an altar. The details of how Sam carries Dean with him—the watch, the car, the absurdly large photos, his son’s name—perhaps these are played straight, and perhaps Sam never finds a more nuanced love. In the meta sense I think we are certainly meant to think this. We are meant to see Dean deified here, canonized into a saint. We are meant to view Sam’s fifty more years of life as worship, as a dedication and an offering.

This is the long shadow of the finale. These are the things untouched by necessity and by design: this is Dean’s apology in 15.18, this is Sam not wanting an apology, and not wanting to hear Dean offer one. This difficult work was always and inevitably going to be elided. But there is so much time, decades and decades, offscreen, for Sam to come to a quieter peace.

I think he can do it.

I think Sam can do anything.

I’m crying again.

I really didn’t think I would cry much about the finale. I thought I would cry at the concept of the show ending, but not at what the ending was. I didn’t think any details would actually affect me. But then Sam got old. I am truly and genuinely hung up on the canonical image of Sam finding peace. Good god. He had GLASSES. Help.

My chief complaint (aside from that absolutely awful Carry On cover, why oh why, they should have just played the original again), if I felt at all like complaining at the moment, would be how happy this ending is. But I can’t begrudge Sam that. I can’t even get too mad at the scene that I was SO SURE I would despise: that of Sam and Dean content in a Heaven that is now apparently Great, Actually (even though a prison dimension with an open floor plan is still a prison dimension, but hey, I guess we humans can’t leave earth either). Supernatural clearly wanted Sam and Dean to not be facing down an abyssally bleak afterlife, and I think I’d be complaining about the lack of bleakness a whole lot more if it didn’t have the (perhaps unintended??) side effect of giving Sam even more freedom from Dean than SPN already deigned to give him. Sam isn’t in a shared cell with Dean. He can be with his friends and his wife and his son.

One of the fundamental questions of SPN is, would Dean ever let Sam go? And it’s a question that the bulk of s13-15 has rendered moot with Sam’s growing passivity, and one that 15.20 neatly dodged. And I’m glad it did, because I wouldn’t have liked whatever 15.20 had to say on the matter. This deflection feels true to the spirit of what the show has become.

It was impossible for Sam to find peace while Dean was still alive. And on its own that kind of says everything, doesn’t it? And Sam is still forever denied the peace he truly longed for. Sam didn’t want death to force Dean’s hand. Sam wanted Dean to want to let him go. But the only way Sam and Dean could heal is apart. The potential of their relationship on earth becoming untangled is forever precluded, explictly. And yet Sam’s freedom is validated, Sam is allowed what he sought in season 1 and season 8, Sam is something beyond a hunter and Dean’s brother, and the show let him be, the show let him grow.

Supernatural said Sam Rights, and the world shook.

[thiswasinevitableid]

17 chosen and 20 lunar for Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go!

Lieutenants Log, stardate 10015, Joseph Stern recording

We’ve finally arrived at an agreement with the Aquariads, the species who control this moon. They will allow our research team unfettered access to the planet, but at an odd price. They requested one of our crew agree to be married off to a high ranking member of their governing council. 

I suspect, but cannot prove, that this is not a desirable being to be married to. He’s a revered seer, and yet they’re willing to couple him to a human and not one of their own? Suspicious.

Myself and the other single members of the crew were all given extensive questionnaires on everything from our sexual preferences to our daily habits. It took me a good hour and a half to finish it. 

After a full earth day of waiting, we received word that chief astrobotanist Duck Newton was the chosen human. I have no idea how this happened, as Duck has little tolerance for what he views as “woo-woo” things like precognition. But he was chosen all the same. 

Because this is Duck, he grumbled a bit, but cheered up when he learned he would only be required to stay with his new husband for three weeks before joining us on our field word, and that we can send him specimens for identification and research. If we decide Aquaria is the planet we’ve been looking for and establish more permanent research stations here, Duck will be expected to spend at least a few days a month with the seer. Mama made it clear that if the idea was truly not something he could agree to, she would call the deal off and we could try another approach. Duck said that wouldn’t be necessary, and that he could think of far worse things they could have asked of us. 

We deposit him at the seers home tomorrow. After that, we begin our exploration of Aquaria, fourth moon of the plant Oceana and (hopefully) the home of the antidote we’ve been searching for. 

Joseph Stern, Lieutenant on the spaceship Amnesty, signing off.

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

Duck waves to the skiff as it pulls away, his planetside bag slung over his shoulder. There’s only one way to go; down the single stone levee, decorated with beautiful tiles, to the massive mansion at the end. 

It reminds him of the photos of Venice he’s seen in old National Geographics, beautiful buildings floating atop a planet of water. He knows Aquaria has islands, but the majority of it’s cities are on or near the water because most of its residents live beneath the waves. They remind Duck of mermaids, with scaled tails and fins giving way to humanoid upper bodies and faces. As far as creatures to get politically married off to, he could be staring down worse. 

There’s still the problem of not knowing why this mer is off by himself and without a partner. Or, as becomes obvious once Duck is inside, any company at all. The other high-ranking aquariads they’ve met come with miles of attendants; here there’s only the high, curved ceilings and rippling water. Maybe the guy is shy? Or maybe he’s a dick? Or just real fucking scary to look at?

As he walks further into the house, he notices the tiled walls are covered in striking murals that, when coupled with the odd half-light allowed in by the green glass windows, makes him feel as though he’s wandering through a dream. The pools and canals criss-cross the floor, and really the ground is more water than concrete, the fact he’s able to walk at all is a concession to the fact some aquariads evolved to be land dwelling. 

A splash makes him turn, and in the pool to his right a black fin cuts the water. He steels himself to not insult the alien he’s now legally attached to. The figure rises from the water, setting his arms on the edge of the stony floor and Duck steps back as a wide, toothy smile appears in an angular face. 

“Hello, Duck Newton.” His tail is the same black as his fin, and his silver hair is tucked behind ears of the same color, which Duck has learned can fan out as a way of communicating. 

“Uh, hi. You must be-”

“Indrid Cold, yes. Apologies, a peril of my profession is that I will always be a little bit ahead.”

“Right. So, uh, guess we’re gonna be seein a lot of each other the next couple of weeks.” He aims for a joking, nonchalant tone. 

“Yes, as we’re married.” He cocks his head, confused, then grins brighter, “Oh, oh I see, you are attempting levity because this is all very awkward. I, ah, I appreciate that. Here, let me show you where you’ll be staying” Indrid pushes off the wall, swimming gracefully on his back as Duck follows him down the hall. The center of the house has more skylights, allowing him to see that his host’s fins aren’t pure black; small silver and white dots are scattered across it. He wonders if he could find constellations in them.

“Here we are.” Indrid gestures to a room, one where the only water is in the form of two deep blue half-circles on the left and right walls. The center of the room is a large bed, linens gleaming whites and pale greens, and the skylight nestles against a chandelier of finely detailed rosey glass. 

“Holy shit.” Duck sets his bag down on a trunk near the door.

“Do you like it?” A flash of yellow up Indrid’s fin, echoed in the dots on his tail.

“I mean, anythin looks ritzy after months on a spaceship but” he turns, smiles, “yeah, I do. Thanks for giving me such nice digs.”

“You are most welcome. Now, this room is designed to give guests privacy. See that red panel on the wall? If you press it, it opens the pool on that side up to the rest of the house, allowing myself or servants to come in and help you.”

“So you do have staff.”

“They’re, ah, more like errand folk. None live here.” Indrid clears his throat, “I can show you the rest of the house, although if you need to sleep I can let you be. I am, ah, not entirely clear on where your internal clock sits now.”

“Aquaria’s days are about four days longer than earth’s, so I ain’t too thrown off. Happy to see more of the place.”

Indrid nods, and Duck follows him out of the bedroom. Most of the other rooms they pass are sparse squares of walkways and still water, under which lies the parts of the house Indrid uses. When they reach Indrid’s quarters, he spots what looks to be an artists’ studio under the clear blue water. 

“You paint?” He kneels and peers down for a better look, Indrid bobbing nearby. 

“Indeed. Art helps me make sense of my visions, and I enjoy it besides. In fact, all the murals you see in this house are my doing. There are even more under water.”

“Damn, that’s fuckin incredible. If I get my SCUBA gear rigged up, maybe I can get a tour?”

“Scu--oh, yes, an underwater breathing apparatus. We have a much smaller device that can help you breathe and sea down here” he dips his head at the pool, “unfortunately, the one I commissioned for you will not arrive until close to the end of your stay. They, ah, did not give me much time to prepare. Hence the lack of many comforts I might otherwise give, as well as places for you to and I to talk, eat or do, ah, other activities together.” The yellow intermittently flashing up his fin gives way to a burst of pink. 

Oh, right. Duck pulls up his infopad (given a generous waterproofing treatment prior to his leaving Amnesty) and opens the contract he signed. 

“Yeah. About that. Says here they expect us to, uh, ‘consummate’ the marriage.”

“I’m aware” Indrid’s voice creeps up.

“Do you...wanna do that now?” He spins a finger in the water.

“I, ah, I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, seems like we could just get it outta the way, rather than have the fact we gotta fuck someone we didn’t pick hangin over our heads?” 

“This...this is not at all how I wanted this to go.” 

Duck looks up and immediately wishes he could reverse time; Indrid looks genuinely hurt, ears flicked back like a scolded dog. 

“Duck I, ah, well, you did not choose me, that is true. But I chose you.”

“Well, fuck.” He sits down with a heavy sigh, “figured some big wigs used those surveys to pick me out. Guess what they say about assumin things is true.”

“.....”

“It makes an ass outta you and me?”

Indrid blinks, then snickers, “Your humor is part of why I chose you. It is very bad, but also extremely good.”

“Glad you think so. Pretty sure Mama was ready to blow me out the airlock for some of the ones I made on the way here.” He knows he’s dodging the conversation they should be having, but how the fuck is he supposed to respond when an alien mermaid tells him he picked him to be his husband?

Indrid swims over so he can rest his arms and chin on the stone, glancing shyly up at Duck as he says, “I suppose I also made an ass of myself, as you would say, by assuming you would not see this as an obligation.”

“I mean, even if you chose me, don’t this feel like an obligation to you?”

“No. For me, it is a reminder that most of my kind are too afraid of me to even give me a chance to court them. And that the council thinks I will get into too much trouble without someone to distract me now and then, and decides the company I am worthy of is an alien explorer with no interest in me.”

“I mean, the only reason we agreed to this is because there might be a plant on Aquaria that can treat the illness runnin rampant back home. So at least it’s for a good cause?”

Indrid flicks his ears, red running up his fin, “What you are doing is noble. What I am doing is being used as a way to keep your exploration team in line.”

Duck winces, “Fuck, I’m, uh, I’m just gonna stop talkin now.”

For an agonizing five minutes they sit there in silence, contemplating their situation and stealing glances at each other. Duck always tried to do the right thing, tried to live an honest life and treat the people in it with respect. He’s been kind and polite to beings up and down the galaxy. He can extend some of that to his own husband, can’t he?

“Indrid?”

The alien raises his head.

“Can we start over?”

“Yes. But I do not see how-”

Duck holds out his hand, “Name’s Duck. Thanks for invitin me in and lookin after me the few weeks.”

Indrid’s smile widens as he understands the game, and he takes the human’s hand, “A pleasure to meet you. I am Indrid, seer to the court of Aquaria, and your anxious husband in spite of the now-changing, much more pleasant futures.”

They finish their tour, the humid air less stifling in the wake of their confessions. Indrid shows him the kitchen, the sitting room, and the gardens which, to Duck’s delight, are as much above the water as below. 

After that, Indrid excuses himself to attend to seer duties and Duck goes back to his room to unpack. As he’s putting away his toothbrush and razor near a large, elaborate tub carved from golden stone, one of Indrid’s admissions from earlier floats through his mind, bobbing there like a buoy until he gets a chance to ask it.

When they’re in the gardens, Duck taking notes as Indrid dives and surfaces with new things to show him, the human slips his feet into the water and says, “Indrid? You said my offerin to fuck you wasn’t what you wanted. What, uh, what did you want?” 

The alien blinks, slowly, pink and teal flashing in his tail, “It is a bit silly in retrospect, but since I knew we would not have time for a proper human marriage courtship, I thought I could mimic the process leading to a one night stand; that way you would be romanced in a manner that made you both comfortable with me and the concept of sex with a relative stranger.” 

Duck chuckles, “Always wild to find out how human stuff gets interpreted by the rest of the galaxy. How’d you even come up with what you were gonna do?”

Indrid crosses his arms, mock affronted, “I will have you know I have seen a great deal of human media, courtesy of our minister of defense.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck shifts onto his stomach, sends a small splash Indrid’s way, “what was this night gonna involve, then?”

“Food, dim and therefore, apparently, romantic lighting, dancing to sensual music, and then hopefully some kissing.” The pink in his tail intensifies, “and then working out exactly how to have sex human.”

The mixture of enthusiasm and being utterly out of his element charms Duck to no end; not to mention it’s the most thought someone’s put into a hook-up with him in the last three years. 

“Seems to me you got the gist of it. Though I really wanna know what you picked out for ‘sensual music.’”

A playful glint enters Indrid’s glowing eyes, “I will show you, but we must go through the whole evening, otherwise it will seem like a disjointed choice. With, ah, with the understanding that you are not obligated to kiss me at the end.

“You got a deal.”

“Wonderful” Indrid claps his hands together, “wait right here.”

Indrid disappears in a whoosh of black and silver. When he returns, he hoists six opaque domes onto the floor in front of Duck, “I initially planned to eat in the sitting room, but you like this room much better, so we can have dinner here.” With that, he double-taps the top of each dome, revealing a confusing buffet. 

“Uh, are those french fries?”

“Yes. You are from the United States of America, and so I chose foods that would make you feel at home.” Indrid points to each plate in turn, “french fries, steak, a turkey with cranberries, lobster, macaroni with cheese, and an apple pie.”

The pie is covered with an odd, yellow meringue, the turkey is the size of a quail, and the black shell suggests this is not a kind of lobster he’s eaten before, but Duck can’t stop smiling.

“Also I took care to be sure none of the necessary substitutions were poisonous to you.”

“Thanks, Indrid.” He means it; in their travels they’ve learned it’s not only humans who think everyone lives and eats exactly the way they do.

Everything except the french fries tastes strange but he finds the meal, like it’s orchestrator, intriguing in it’s oddity. Indrid brings two cool, white bottles from below, offers Duck tastes of each. One is like the celery soda he drank on a dare, the other like root beer if it wasn’t gross. He keeps the second one next to him as the meal progresses, Indrid asking him all kinds of questions about botany and himself. When dinner is over, Indrid guides him two rooms over, grinning excitedly. 

“I will start the music; one moment.” 

A few seconds after he dives, a chrome cylinder descends from the ceiling and music fills the air.

Ninety-nine red balloons

Floating in the summer sky

Panic bells, it's red alert!

There's something here from somewhere else!

He giggles, sits down so it’s easier to call, “Indrid? Not sure you got the right song bud.”

A silver-haired head pops up, “Not romantic?”

“Nope.”

“Hmmmm” He lifts a small, white rectangle and the song changes. 

He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft

He's in the army now, a blowin' reveille

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B

“N-not quite” The laugh is stronger now.

“Drat. How about….”

I threw a wish in the well, don't ask me, I'll never tell

I looked to you as it fell and now you're in my way 

Indrid looks hopefully at him.

“Ain’t what I’d call sensual, but you’d hear it at the kind of place you’d pick up a date.”

The alien beams, starts shifting back and forth to the beat, “shall we dance?”

Duck blushes, pretends he doesn’t know why, “Uh, probably should have said this earlier, but I ain’t much of a dancer.”

Indrid swims to him, stopping close enough that Duck can see the lines on his face that reveal they’re close in age, “That’s alright. Sometimes conversing while having a drink is acceptable behavior, correct?”

“Yeah.” Duck doesn’t bother to hide how intently he’s watching as Indrid dives, his form elegant and ethereal beneath the water. 

They sit sipping a hard cider that tastes of papaya and flowers instead of apples until the three other moons glow bright in the skylight. Duck yawns, and excuses himself for the night. 

“Thanks for a great evenin, Indrid.”

“You are most welcome. A pity I could not make the music work.”

He’s here for another three weeks at least. And Indrid is floating through the darkening water like a dream he’s tempted to chase.

“Guess you’ll just have to try again.” Duck winks. 

Indrid’s ears frill slightly and he flashes bright purple, “Yes, my dear husband, I suppose I will.” 

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

Duck’s routine is not the one he usually has while docked on a planet. Every day for the last week, he wakes up, joins Indrid for a leisurely swim, works on his research, and then spends his evening with a weirdly cute alien trying to accurately recreate the earth dating experience for him. 

The second night, he asked if Indrid would bring him some of his favorites for their next meal. The steamed coconut crab was a hit. The mantis-squid served still swimming, less so. From then on, when Indrid put in his food orders to the cooks at the main court, it was for a mixture of earth and Aquariad dishes, each one leading him or Indrid to share an anecdote from their time on their home planet. 

For the last two nights, he’s lifted the partitions on the pools in his room so Indrid can talk with him until neither of them can keep their eyes open. He wonders if it would be rude to ask him to stay, to sleep in such a small space just so he could be the first thing Duck sees when he wakes up.

There must be floating beds he could put in Indrid’s room, or maybe a hammock he could hang in the garden. 

Duck now understands that Indrid’s powers make him politically valuable, but also mean his fellow residents of the lunar city see him as dangerous, as knowing things they’d rather keep secret. Duck understands, especially if their only time encountering the seer is when he glides his formidable, dark body from the depths of his inner sanctum. But all he can see is his Indrid, awkward and well-meaning, whose fear of Duck disliking him has given way to genuine affection. His Indrid, who now pulls himself up onto the stones so they can sit shoulder to shoulder after breakfast or before dinner, whose tail Duck’s fingers beg to caress. 

His Indrid who is, at this moment, continuing his losing battle with earth music. 

“How about this?”

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Thank you for all the joy and pain

“Oh fuck no” Duck guffaws, “anything but him, ‘Drid, he’s a boner killer if there ever was one.”

“I don’t think he’s that bad,  but I will be speaking to Vincent about his human music suggestions.”

“For the love of god, turn it off.” Duck flails for the remote.

Indrid sticks out his tongue, “Very well, but I am this close to pulling you down here and seeing if you can do any better.”

“You wouldn’t dare” Duck is still laughing, eyes closing as he does, which means he gets only a splash of warning before he’s yanked into the pool. He comes up giggling and spluttering, “now, is that any way to treat your husband?”

Indrid’s laugh is a siren song, “No, I suppose not.” The music clicks off as Indrid steadies him by curving his tail behind his legs, “how should I treat you instead?”

Duck drapes his arms over Indrid’s shoulders, “You been treatin me pretty damn well, dunkin me aside.”

A flicker of pink and yellow as Indrid rubs their cheeks together, “And if I wanted to be even better?”

“I, uh, I mean if you wanted to we could tryYYYYohfuck” he hunches forward as Indrid’s tail drags across his dick. The clothing on Aquaria is thin, so he can feel the cool scales tease his skin. 

“Oh, oh dear, apologies, I was only trying to embrace you further, I forgot yours do not stay concealed until they’re needed.”

“You, you keep doin that and it’s gonna be needed real quick.”

“Oh?” red eyes narrow wickedly, “does my sweet husband need attending to?” Another drag of his tail, much more deliberate, and Duck grinds his hips in reply. 

“Only if you want to.”

“I do, so very badly.” Indrid nuzzles his nose, “may I take a little while to acquaint myself with your wonderful body?”

“Uh huh.” Duck tugs his shirt off, throwing it onto the land and then giving his shorts the same treatment. 

“Ohhhhhhyes.” Indrid purrs, fins and tails shimmering purple and gold. Then he sinks down, swimming in a slow, tight circle around the human. Pleased chirps and trills bubble up to Duck’s ears. Cool fingers play along his legs and belly, eventually finding his dick and offering an experimental stroke.

“Fuck” he groans, and Indrid does it again, kissing his navel as both hands rub and tease his dick and folds. Indrid is clearly experimenting, maybe even using his visions to guide him, and Duck eagerness to get off succumbs to just how fucking hot it is to have a partner this enrapt by his body, to have them explore it like some awe-inspiring landscape. 

He spreads his hands out and runs them along Indrid’s torso and tail; the scales are just as wonderful under his fingers as he hoped, and he can feel Indrid sigh happily as he pets him. 

Then lips close around his dick and he makes a series of undignified noises, digging one hand into Indrid’s hair to encourage him. 

“Ohmyfuckinchrist, Indrid, yes, fuck please keep suckin like that.”

Indrid wiggles his whole body in response, happy trill underscored by a firmer suck. Duck can’t get enough of his body beneath his hands, of his mouth on Duck’s skin, and he wonders if someone can black out from how good a blowjob feels. 

Indrid’s fin breaks the water and Duck runs an appreciative thumb along the top. Funny, there’s a little depression between it and the membrane of the fin. Curious, he drags his pinky along it. 

The alien bursts upwards with a loud chirp of joy, “Ohgoodness, yes, oh that feels nice please do it again.”

“Yeah? My cute, needy husband need me to play with his fins to get off.”

“Not, not technically by my gods does he want you to.”

“Don’t worry darlin, I will--uh, ‘Drid? Is, is that your dick?”

Indrid follows his gaze to the thick, bumpy shaft emerging from his tail, it’s tip crowned with short, searching tendrils.

“Yes. Also an ovipositor, hence those lumps.”

“Holyfuck. Uh, I, I ain’t sure I’m ready for that yet.” 

“That’s perfectly alright. Though it does mean my cock is not going into you tonight; I’m not sure I can control my bodily responses enough to avoid ovipositing accidentally.”

“Lots of others things we can do.” Duck bites the tip of one ear, making the other flare out.

“Indeed. I say we start with this.” Indrid’s tail encircles his waist just as Indrid shoves his cock between his thighs.

“Like, like the way you think sugar. Fuuuck, fuck that’s good.” The bumps from the eggs have just the right amount of give as he humps them, Indrid matching his tempo with his thrusts. He keeps his arms around his husbands neck, kissing him furiously. Indrid kisses back with a chirp, gold flashing in his scales, and Duck knows he won’t want to kiss anyone else for a long, long time. 

The tip of Indrid’s cock bumps his ass and he groans at what that suggests about it’s size. 

“I’m, I’m takin this fuckin perfect thing all the way before I go.” He bucks his hips harder to make his point, “gonna let you fuck me open on it, fill me up, wanna know what it’s like to cum with you inside me.”

“Oh gods” Indrid whimpers, hiding his face in Ducks neck as he squeezes his thighs together. 

“And, and you’re gonna be a dutiful fuckin husband and fill me however I say, ain’t you?”

“Yes, yesofcourse, goodness Duck I, I’m-”

“Heh, you like that, mr high and mighty seer likes bein bossed around. Well, lucky you, because now that I know just how fuckin good you are at fuckin me, gonna have you doin it ever, fuckin, day.” He jerks his hips hard, three times, and Indric cums with a cry, cock pulsing as he sinks his teeth into Ducks shoulder. Duck doesn’t let up, chases his orgasm over the bumps and ridges until he nearly whites out with pleasure, clinging to Indrid tighter as his body gives up on supporting him. 

After his cock retracts Indrid, still holding Duck up with ease, swims to the button that orders a cleaning cycle on the pool and deposits the human back on the stone. 

“I dearly hope your team finds what you need on this planet so that I may see you beyond these few weeks.”

“Sex was that good?” Duck teases, petting Indrid’s hair as he lays his head in his lap.

“No. Or, well, yes, but more than that you are so, so very wonderful. I wish to get to know you more, to show you even more of my world and my skill in bed.”

Duck kisses the top of his head, “I hope so too.”

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

Communication log between leader of Amnesty Mission at Astrobotanist Duck Newton. 

Mama: Got some promising leads. Will be back to pick you up in three days. 

Duck: Glad to hear it. But take your time, no need to rush only my account. 

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep13: How to Get Away With Cheating in the Card Olympics

It’s been a little while since Pegasus made a card that screwed us years after it was developed...and so it’s time for it to happen again. Good ol Pegasus, screwing us all and not even knowing he’s doing it.

First off, it took me until this episode to realize that Leon and Zigfried are German and Leon is playing a Grimm Brother’s deck. I guess I didn’t notice before now because Leon was hiding his identity. But now that I know his deck is because he’s just German it’s like...well OK. That’s kind of cute. Better than that time they had the American play a deck filled with guns.

And that actually...fully explains why they are all dressed old timey. I didn’t pick up on it until just now...they’re referencing old ass fairy tales. But wtv, I still like my reaching theories of why Zigfried dresses like...that.

PS, my twitter just notified me that lots of people are getting a ‘Hime Haircut’, which is exactly the doo that Zigfried wears this season with the cropped side bangs. And like...are we sure? I see Kpop wearing it and Tik Tok kids wearing wigs but...I have yet to see a Hime in the wild. Course I haven’t gone outside in like a year so...maybe tens of thousands of people really did do a Hime Haircut during the Quarantine.

But, damn it, I decided to look at some photos, and a bunch of them looked pretty bad, but a couple looked pretty dope, and now I’m a little bit tempted to get a Hime...but I feel like it took a decade to get out of my bangs phase and like...Do I need two layers of bangs? I have naturally straight hair, I could do this, this haircut was made for me, but...

I just don’t know if I should get a haircut that looks like I’m an anime cosplayer when I can’t back it up. Nope. Cannot get this haircut. I know this haircut was made for teenagers or artists in their 30′s, and literally no one else, but no, this will be a mistake just like the side bangs I gave myself in 2006.

(looks over at scissors)

(read more under the cut)

(get it? Cut?)

Leon recalls that his brother very nicely gave him a card, and he’s so excited to finally do any activity involving his crazy ass family, that he just blindly does it.

This entire episode is about Yami not doing a hellscape when he witnesses cheating, and like...it is S5...it’s been a little while since anyone’s done a real good cheat on him, and he opened the door to darkness, and they got devoured by their own Tamagachi. It’s been a while.

And like the curse of Episode 13 was just a theory I had--but this particular Episode 13 is probably the most tame of all the 13′s (and yet, the most un-tame of this arc, which is a pretty chill arc, overall)

Yet...while this episode still fits in with their universe because the Kaiba’s are very proud so they can’t admit their duel disk has a flaw and therefore can’t forfeit the game, it kind of stretches the imagination a bit for the sake of the plot. Straight up we have a LOT of characters in this arc and they all just stood there and watched it happened.

It could have been also because this is like...televised...that no one wants to start throwing this little boy off the nearest blimp. I just wish that was addressed in the episode, other than “listen...Kaiba must allow this card to be played...or all his Duel Disks are lies.”

His Duel Disk almost caused the end of planet Earth a few weeks back, so I think it’s fine. I think this is a negligible problem to have when your disk shoots projectiles out of each end and has sharp folding edges in the shape of a blade--almost attempting to slice your face off every time you wave that thing around.

Yes, he’s trying to restore his reputation after the whole Dartz thing...but this is like...not that bad in the scale of things that have happened in the past several seasons. Maybe it’s just the last straw that broke the camels back here? One thing too far--’your disk played a broke card, Kaiba, I am pulling my investments and I refuse to go to your theme parks. I was here when you blew up that island. I was here when your company was literally bought out by the illluminati...but if that duel disk can’t play cards correctly--we’re done here.’ And TBH...that’s a very Yugioh mentality to have.

Like remember that time that Elon musk threw a brick at one of his new weird looking cars and the windshield cracked? But he was like “Oh...that was just a...listen the windshields don’t shatter, you saw nothing.” and still released the car anyway? Was kind of reminded of that.

Now...he didn’t actually go into the Dev room, we’ll go into how the hell he got this card, but first, a visit to the Kaiba Dev room.

OOOOOOooooooooh

That’s so bright!

It reminds me of how in the 90′s, the only real thing I knew to do on my computer was change the colors of the UI, so I just used the ugliest ass UI known to man for my family’s computers. I hope these computers have a mouse that leaves a tail behind and I hope that mouse is in the shape of a flying sparkling dragon.

Anyway, Duke speaks what’s on our minds:

Meanwhile, Pegasus, watching this happen over a glass of wine from inside his bathtub at Castle Pegasus, takes one very long sip while sinking into a pile of bubbles.

Seto at first is like “I literally own this tournament so thanks for losing? I don’t know why you threw it out into the trash but thanks?” But Zigfried pressured him so hard that everyone on Earth would judge his ass, and tried so hard to change the definition of what cheating even is, that Seto relented almost as if to shut Zigfried the hell up.

Zigfried explained that, technically, it’s still reads as a legal card on the disk and isn’t reaaally against the rules. Even though the rules say it’s against the rules--what are rules anyway?

Thankfully we have the King of “I dictate what the rules are AKA the rules of the universe, which I would show you, I just don’t feel like it right now, and I’m a little worried about opening that Pandora’s box, but I clearly know the rules of this card game, as stated on this Home Depot plaque that Seto gave me after I won the last tourney.”

Leon gets pretty upset about this--not so much screwing Seto Kaiba, but over the fact his brother stole his only chance at trying to beat Yugi Muto fair and square. So, trying to retain what little card honor he has left, Leon tries to self sabotage so everyone can just go the hell home.

OK so...do you think he put a floppy disk into the paper card? Like straight up how did he do that? Feel free to post your theories because like...how do you hack a paper card? Like do we even have a canon explanation of what these cards are or what they are made out of and how they theoretically work?

Anyway, now that they’ve spent a good portion of this episode discussing if this card should or should not be played, and the ethics and philosophy surrounding that, we find out that none of this matters because Zigfried was actually just stalling.

(He hacked the card so it had a virus like straight up how did he DO that without making a new card?)

Huh.

Y’all, what if I could just delete Google?

Can you imagine?

Like I know this is a kid’s show so it follows kid’s show logic and I will absolutely allow this ridiculous master plan and I will not question it, but think with me for a sec:

What if you could just delete Disney?

Damn. That’s some Y2K scare tactics propaganda right there. That’s some good YA dystopian fiction stuff.

Yo is Zigfried the good guy? He’s not, but if this were a YA novel he would be, right? Good on him.

I...do not know how the logic in Zigfried’s brain works, but if someone deleted all the files in my collaborators company and showed up at my front door and was like “I heard you were looking for a new collaborator?” I’d stick him face first into a blank paper card.

Which is, logically, the next step to Zigfried’s plan that no one has bothered to tell him yet. You just don’t mess with Pegasus, especially after all the stuff he went though with getting murdered by Mai, and Dartz showing up, he’d be so pissed right now. He might not be technically magical anymore--but it’s clear after last season that he’s still magical enough. This is a man who’s let out into the wild maybe a couple of scary cards--but hell knows how many are buried in his huge ass castle just waiting to do a murder.

This is just Zigfried hassling a hornet and the hornets nest is like...right there.

And so next episode we are going to...destroy the card? Hell, next episode might be entirely a card game and I might only have 2 caps.

Anyway, just letting you know that I typed this last night, and then had dreams that I got a Hime Haircut and hella loved it, woke up at 5:30 AM thinking about that haircut, and have since been just...

...I mean I shouldn’t do it...I cannot give myself unironic Von Schroeder hair...

...

...but what if it’s dope though?

(and here’s the link to read these from the beginning in chrono order from S1. Wish I categorized in seasons but alas I did not have that forsight back when I thought there were only 3 seasons of Yugioh total. I have since learned.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[artificialqueens]

Maybe You're My Enemy (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

a/n: hey, hi, hello! welcome to the first canon compliant thing i have written since 2017, i am *~ petrified! ~* . i had to write something to fix these two though after the events of episode 8 because i just love them dearly (and the fact in the subsequent episode Lawrence just dropped in the fact they’d shared a bed didn’t help this at all). thank you so much to @purecamp for reading it over and reassuring me it’s not a heap of shit (so if it turns out that it is then just blame her xo). also the song it’s set to is enemy by Charli XCX in case u want to get the immersive vibes!

fic summary: On one side of Scotland, Lawrence disappears from social media. On the other, Ellie reflects.

***

They say, “Keep your friends close”

But you’re closer, I love when you’re here

I’m so far away sometimes, I’m distant, yeah

The sky is grey. The clouds are grey. The stagnant water of the quay is grey, and so’s the metal rail that Ellie’s holding on to as he narrows his eyes, tries to stop the wind from hitting them and making him tear up.

As if the wind would be the only reason.

He brings his gaze into focus on the HMS Unicorn, sat in the water in front of him like some massive whale that’s been planted in a bathtub. It’s a fucking ugly ship; a glorified tugboat on steroids with a big bowsprit sticking out at the front all out of place, but he likes the little bust of the once-white unicorn that sticks out from under it. Ellie remembers getting brought here for a school trip in Primary 3, pointing to the unicorn all excited and getting laughed at by the boys in his class that he knew were going to grow up to be the ones that gave the teachers lip and got suspended in high school.

He remembers that Bryce made up the fact that one of the boys had “said the f word” in the gift shop later that day, just so Ellie could have the satisfaction of watching them get screamed at by their teacher. Ellie still fucking loves him for that.

Ellie thinks the unicorn is out of place in all this grey. He remembers the time he did his unicorn mix when he opened for Willam, how nervous he’d been and messaging Lawrence about it and getting a “this you coming out to me as a furry?” in return which made him laugh and forget why he’d even been nervous in the first place. He can’t help the smile the memory brings to his face even if he wants to.

And he wants to.

Lawrence always could make him smile, get a laugh from him even when he didn’t feel like it. He remembers with a blow to his heart what Lawrence had said on the show- “you’re not terribly funny? Like you don’t have…zinger-y punchlines?” - and how Tia had laughed and Ellie had wanted so much to bite back but didn’t.

Because he always could draw a laugh out of Lawrence. Granted he was usually laughing at him rather than with him, but Ellie could still put a smile on his face by acting dumb, saying things that Lawrence would subsequently repeat in a screech of disbelief that would always make Ellie laugh harder anyway. He’d always self-impose ridiculous dares on himself in front of him: in Hive, “here, what if I did the entire shot rainbow?”, in Nandos, “d’you think I could do the wing roulette by myself?”, in Glasgow on the Subway on the way to a gig, “dare me to get off at Ibrox and I’ll go to the Louden Tavern dressed like this?”. Ellie had been used to being the class clown for Lawrence, the jester for the queen.

Or maybe just a fool.

Ellie’s always hated the colour grey.

You might help me, intimacy

I’ll admit, I’m scared

Maybe, maybe you can reach me, yeah

His surroundings turn to silver as he shoves his hands in his pockets, heads towards the V&A museum that’s still glinting despite the lack of sunlight. He’s stopped by two teenage girls that are polite and shy and squeaky-voiced as they ask for a photo- he supposes that’s what he gets when he goes out wearing the pink and purple fur coat with the hearts on it. Ellie forces a smile and thanks them for supporting him and they tell him he’s their favourite in return.

After they walk away he thinks they must have been lying, but then he feels the frown etch itself onto his face as he shakes his head. The self-doubt is a hangover from filming that he needs to shake off.

He squints at the museum as he walks past, fleetingly thinks about going in and looking at some of the old fashion to cheer him up. A’whora’s promised to go with him when he’s eventually allowed to come up to visit, and Ellie snorts at the idea of the fashion queen of the London scene in Dundee. The thought of A’whora’s reaction to the Wellgate shopping centre- the Credit Union, the B&M, the Jobcentre Plus- puts the first smile on his face he’s had in days.

Lawrence had gone round the museum with him too, when Ellie had dropped him off at the train station the day after a gig and they’d been killing time. It had been weird to just dick about like that together the first few times. Weird the fact there was no makeup, glue and wigs, no alcohol or gay anthems to yell over. Just two boys walking around a museum together. Like a date.

Ellie makes a face before he even realises. Not this.

The first time they did all of it together was weird. Just like everything Lawrence had written. Nandos, cinema, staying at his. That last one especially. Ellie can still remember the way he’d stared up at the bumpy ceiling from his position on Lawrence’s couch in the pitch dark, street lamps from outside casting shadows through the blinds. The room was too cold and the blanket was too small and he hadn’t slept a wink but he’d still do it all over again.

The first time they’d both lain on Lawrence’s bed the morning after the night before, cracking up at Scottish You Laugh You Lose compilations on Youtube and Ellie being unable to help the tears that streamed down his face at Lawrence imitating “big shoe, big shoeeee!”. The way they’d been close and the way their arms had touched and the way Ellie had felt ridiculous for the way his heart was hammering. Just a friend.

The first time they’d found each other under the dark lights of CCs when they’d both been through in Edinburgh to support Alice by chance. The way Ellie’s heart had lit up like a firework when he saw him. The way they’d laced their fingers together without even having to ask permission first, the way everything just seemed to be as simple as tequila rose shots and pink lights and leaning against the wall as they smoked outside.

The way everything else had just happened so easily.

Ellie squeezes his eyes shut before he can realise what he’s doing. The memories have forced their way in, kicked down a door in his head that he’d been sure he’d bolted shut.

He needs to change the locks.

Maybe you’re my enemy

Now I’ve finally let you come a little close to me,

Maybe you’re my enemy

You’re the only one who knows the way I’m really feelin’

Ellie is in the same Stitch onesie he’s been shrugging on since the last episode aired. It stinks. He’s joked to A'whora that he can probably smell him through the phone, and A'whora’s asked if he just sweats out Mango Loco Monster. Ellie makes some joke about wringing out his clothes into a pint glass if he did, which makes A'whora retch on camera.

He’s glad they made up at least. They didn’t have too much of a choice, to be fair. Apart from the way they get on so well, their bond and their friendship, A'whora’s the only other one who knows what it’s like to be in Ellie’s situation.

Except A'whora never stabbed Tayce in the back.

“You should talk to him,” A'whora insists, bringing the whole sorry situation up in a pause where Ellie must have looked as if he was about to make a vodka bleach mixer.

Ellie looks pointedly back at him through the screen. “I’ve been telling you to talk to Tayce for months.”

He watches A'whora pull an awkward face and he’s satisfied he’s hit a nerve. “That’s different though. You and Lawrence don’t live together.”

“Yeah. Least I wasn’t stupid enough to move in with someone I fancied, how’s that going for you?”

A'whora splutters a laugh that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Ellie feels guilty all over again. He feels like that’s his default these days. “Sorry, chick, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I mean. It’s fine. Just have to act as if I’m not in love with the bitch every time I’m around her, it’s not hard,” A'whora deadpans.

Ellie frowns. “You know Tayce feels the same. Everyone knows it.”

“No I don’t,” A'whora says instantly back to him, shaking his head and dissolving momentarily into pixels. “Besides, even if she did, like…it’s easier if she didn’t, y'know? All this…publicity, every move getting analysed. It’s easier to just…not.”

Ellie narrows his eyes. “You’re doing a smashing job making the case for me and Lawrence.”

“You know what I mean! You don’t get people asking where Lawrence is in every live you do. You don’t get people going through the show fucking…frame by frame and then editing every time you breathe around each other together and setting it to a bloody Little Mix song.”

Ellie bursts out laughing and starts singing Black Magic down the phone to him, which makes A'whora look pointedly at him before clearly being unable to hold it for long and instead laughing with him.

Both their laughter dies down and Ellie watches as A'whora smiles sadly, sincerely. “He’s worth the risk, Els.”

“Oh my God, prison. Who the fuck are you, Nicholas Sparks?”

The reference flies over A'whora's head and Ellie starts explaining the plot of the A Walk to Remember, steering the conversation out of the waters it had become marooned in, the captain of his very own HMS Unicorn.

He feels more like he’s aboard the Titanic with every message that goes unread.

Now it’s really clear to me

You could do a little damage, you could cut me deeper

“It didn’t get you a badge though, was it worth it?”

Ellie’s asked himself that every day since the episode aired. Since he made the decision, pretty much. Financially? Yes it was. It’s pretty well-known at this point in the grand scheme of Drag Race that with each week you’re on the likelihood of securing more bookings is increased, and now with his slot at Drag Fest he feels as if he’s hit the jackpot.

Everything else? Not so much.

Ellie still feels his stomach drop if he thinks enough about that untucked, which he does all the time. Too much, in fact. The aggression in Lawrence’s voice which Ellie knew all too well was a manifestation of hurt on so many levels. The way Lawrence chose the conflict that Ellie wished he could have avoided. The way Lawrence left his feelings bare while Ellie couldn’t trust himself to do the same in case he said something he might regret.

The fact Lawrence had thought Ellie had set him up to fail was maybe what hurt the most, though. Ellie had wanted to ask him how he thought he’d be able to do that after everything they’d been through together. He’d tried to tell him he didn’t think it was possible for him to fail at something he shines at. He’d wanted to grab Lawrence’s pink fucking headpiece and bash him over the head with it until he realised that he’s Lawrence fucking Chaney, he is the Scottish drag queen. Lawrence is the one who will say something at a gig one week and it’ll be common drag parlance across the country by the next. Lawrence is the one getting booked by the BBC Social to make educational videos. Lawrence is the one on posters across Glasgow, for fuck’s sake.

Ellie might not have been thinking about the worst case scenario in that moment, but only because he genuinely didn’t think there could be one.

After all, he’d had his opportunity to sabotage Lawrence. Ellie remembers the first day when the producers had wanted to set up the Scottish queen rivalry, asked for something shady they could use as a soundbite. The way he’d sought out Lawrence on a smoke break and told him about the situation and reassured him that he hadn’t given them anything, and the way Lawrence had just smiled back at him, softly and genuinely, and told Ellie he’d done the same. The way they’d minutely linked pinkies together before breaking them and walking back inside as if they’d barely shared so much as a glance, neither of them wanting to draw any suspicion their way.

And he could’ve been harsher in that untucked if he’d wanted. Could’ve said how for someone that was meant to care so much about friendship and sisterhood, Lawrence had been doing a great job shitting on him from a great height about his lack of challenge wins and his run on the show.  

But he didn’t, because…well. He knows why.

Because the knowledge that he’d hurt Lawrence and lost his trust had done more damage than any joke Lawrence made at his expense could ever do.

Ellie goes live on the Tuesday afternoon. A comment on the chat reads, “are u A’whora and Lawrence still friends???”

“Yeah, me and A’whora are still friends!” Ellie bats the comment away with a fake smile.

He’ll blame his lack of comprehension skills if he’s asked about it.

I feel guilty, I feel nervous, I feel certain now

Maybe, maybe you can reach me

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it.

Maybe it’s when he wakes up on Friday and Lawrence’s Twitter isn’t loading. Maybe it’s when he reads the other Scottish girls condemning the fans, the word fatphobia leaping out, grabbing Ellie’s heart and wrenching it tight.

Surely not this?

Ellie searches Twitter and what he finds makes him feel ill. He doesn’t know what he had expected- he’d known the frantic tweet urging the fans to be kind that he’d typed out before he went to sleep hadn’t exactly been going to create world peace overnight- but he hadn’t expected any of this. Everyone loves Lawrence, surely.

Although perhaps he’s just talking from experience.

Maybe it’s when he shoots Lawrence a message that goes unopened. In all honesty Ellie doesn’t blame him. A flimsy sentiment about hoping he’s okay that clocks in at under 250 characters isn’t going to cut it, and he’s grateful when Bimini, with all their empathy and ability to read a situation as clear as day, texts him and tells him that Lawrence has replied to them and he’s…well, he’s managing.

Maybe it’s when Ellie goes live with A’whora and he manages to mention Lawrence entirely too many times. A cry for attention or an old habit that’s dying hard? He can’t tell. Perhaps it’s both.

It’s definitely got something to do with the Facebook post.

Whatever it is, Ellie finds himself stuffing any old random items of clothing in a backpack and hoping it makes an outfit, shoving the spare key into the soil of the plant pot outside his front door and texting Anne to tell her where it is in case…fuck knows, the flat goes on fire while he’s away or something. He looks up the train times as he’s on his way to the station; a terrible decision, really, as when he’s still fifteen minutes away he discovers there’s one in ten. Somehow he manages to make it to the station with just a minute to spare and his heart lifts to find that the ticket barriers are open, so he dashes through them and hurtles onto the train that’s waiting at the platform. He catches his breath as he slumps into a table seat, having to take his mask off for a couple of seconds just so he can breathe properly. The way his heart is going at the rate the train’s about to isn’t helping.

The chimes of the train announcement cut through his attempts at slowing his heart down, and the little robotic woman’s voice confirms that his ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment decision is actually happening.

“This is Dundee. This train is for Glasgow Queen Street.”

Because this is all so last minute, but he needs to see Lawrence. He’s apologised probably ten times by now but he knows he needs to make it eleven. He knows (he hopes) that Lawrence needs that eleventh time too. He knows that Lawrence needs Ellie’s persistence, knows that it’s all just an attempt at self-preservation. Lawrence’s attempts at shutting Ellie out are just inviting him to bring a battering ram. At least, he hopes. But like A’whora had said…he’s worth the risk.

The train starts moving, and even if he wanted to back out now he couldn’t.

So cold at the surface, I’m scared of nothin’

Underneath, I’m nervous

Can you reach me?  

Ellie waits for the subway at Buchanan Street and his glazed-over eyes focus on a massive poster of Lawrence on the platform opposite. He briefly considers throwing himself under the next train.

The journey down had passed somehow in the blink of an eye and also agonisingly slowly. Too much time to sit and stare out of the window but not enough time to figure out what he’s going to say. He still doesn’t know. He’d said it all those months ago, he’s said it through texts and DMs. This time feels different, though. This time is different. This time there’s no cameras or runners or pink tables, or distance between them or tension at the fact nothing had aired yet.

It’s going to be the pair of them and Lawrence’s flat. Just like it’s been so many times before.

Ellie thinks he’ll probably just open his mouth, say whatever gets there first and hope it hits the right notes; a terrible decision arrived upon as a result of the lack of any other option. His mind is a messed up ball of television static, a knotted yarn of white noise that he can’t find the end of. He feels as if it’s made of the noise the train makes as it screams into the station, metal on metal and the low whoosh of the wind through the tunnel and the rickety shaking of the doors as they slide open and people stream off.

He picks up his bag and sinks down into the horrifically patterned upholstery of the seats, settling himself in for the journey. The little metal tin can of a train doesn’t take long to fire through the seven stops before Govan and with each one that passes Ellie can feel his nerves spiking and his mouth growing dry.

What if Lawrence isn’t even in? What if it’s all got too much and he’s gone back to Helensburgh for the foreseeable? Ellie could get a train up there, he supposes; he’s already on this side of the country, although he doesn’t know if Lawrence would appreciate the gesture or call the police on him.

Ellie concludes it would be worth it anyway.

He emerges from the Subway and the grey seems to hit him all over again, seeping into his clothes and forcing him to fight through the sadness that hits him like a wave. There’s a little beam of sunshine fighting to escape the clouds though, and Ellie hopes it’s some form of pathetic fallacy. Or whatever that one about the weather matching your feelings was. Fucked if he ever paid attention in Nat 5 English.

The streets of red brick tenements feel like pens of hostility as he passes windows that serve as frames for Union Jacks and Red Hand of Ulster flags. Even being raised in a Christian household doesn’t equip him to identify with this form of religion; where the disciples are football players and the gods are flags and the hymns are about killing Catholics. Ellie has always worried about Lawrence living here, told him as much, but he’s always been met with a bark of a laugh back and some comment about how he’s only saying that because he’s lived such a sheltered little life in Dundee and wouldn’t last five minutes trying to inhabit Glasgow and all its cheerful sectarianism. Lawrence has always had a very blythe attitude to the whole thing, and Ellie remembers when he’d held his hand on the way back from the Subway in full drag after a gig like it was nothing, the way some dick in an orange and blue scarf had shouted at them from across the street and Lawrence had just yelled back with an “awrite, babes?” as if he had a death wish.

Which is what makes this whole thing so grim. The Lawrence who drunkenly and sarcastically greets bigots at three in the morning from across the street doesn’t marry up with the Lawrence that’s holed up in his flat in the face of negativity. Ellie supposes that one homophobic Rangers fan is one homophobic Rangers fan, but Twitter can seem like the whole world’s population, and if Lawrence thinks the world hates him just because he’s reacted to something that was Ellie’s fault…

He feels his gut wrench.

Ellie turns into Lawrence’s street and feels ill. He could always go home. Turn and walk back to the Subway, train back to Queen Street, back to Dundee, back to the flat. Like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t even consciously made the decision, like it was all a dream.

He sleepwalks to Lawrence’s close door anyway, just like he knew he would.

His hand shakes as he presses the buzzer too hard, and the panic rises in his throat as the seconds pass agonisingly slowly. When there’s a crackle from the intercom, he freezes in fear.

“Hello?”

It’s Kiko’s voice. Of course his flatmate had to be the one to answer, drag out the humiliation of the whole thing. Ellie can hear the shake to his voice as he replies.

“Hey, it’s Ellie.”

“…Ellie?”

He chooses to ignore the disbelief, acts as if it’s normal for him to have travelled across the country to turn up on Lawrence’s doorstep in the middle of a pandemic when there’s a travel ban in place. He’s considering this essential travel anyway.

“Is Lawrence in at all?”

Kiko, for her part, seems to pick up on the way the whole visit is masquerading as routine. In the split second before she replies, Ellie finds himself holding his breath. He steels himself, prepares for a “no, he’s actually…”, to send him back to Dundee like a crumpled sheet of paper tossed into a bin.

So Ellie feels like his throat’s going to close up when Kiko replies down the intercom. “Yeah, two secs. I’ll buzz you up.”

The dread settles in his gut like a weight as the buzzer rings out into the street, harsh and loud and doing nothing for Ellie’s derailed train of thought. He pushes on the door, takes his first step into the close and the echo seems to hit him deep in his chest. He finds himself wishing Lawrence lives four up but he’s only on the first floor, and as Ellie puts his foot on the first step of the staircase he keeps his eyes trained on the stairs because he knows the moment he looks up he’s going to see somebody standing there holding the door open and even though he’s had hours to prepare himself, weeks even, he’s not ready for that in the slightest.

And when he finally brings his gaze onto the front door with four steps to go, he’s not ready for the way the sight of Lawrence almost knocks him straight back down again. He’s slumped against the doorframe and has very clearly not slept- since when, Ellie couldn’t guess. A black hoodie is swamping him and a pair of navy sweatpants are doing the same, making him seem smaller than he already is. The sight of his hair up in that tiny bun hurts Ellie’s heart because it makes him want to smile, reminds him of the Lawrence he’d dick about in the workroom and the smoking area and the hotel corridors with before it all went so wrong. His arms are folded and he’s looking at the tiles on the landing floor until Ellie reaches the doorway, shifts awkwardly.

“Hi.”

Lawrence doesn’t quite meet his eyes. It’s a minute detail that hurts Ellie more than he would have expected. He doesn’t reply for a second, then seems to relent. “Hey.”

Another pause. The atmosphere makes Ellie wish he’d worn a thicker jacket.

“You’re not meant to be here, you know. Wee Nicky’s probably had snipers trained on you since you got off the train,” Lawrence says, delivering the quip with a bitter, barbed edge that makes Ellie think it’s less of a joke and more wishful thinking.

“Wouldn’t be any less than I deserve, I’m sure,” Ellie smiles sadly, unable to make it meet his eyes. Lawrence’s expression remains unimpressed.

“So why are you here, then,” he not so much as demands an answer but disinterestedly inquires. Ellie bites his bottom lip before he replies, as if he’s forcing himself to make sure his words are perfect.

“I just came down because…well, I wanted to see how you were. I know the past week must have been shit for you.”

Lawrence raises his eyebrows, his eyes growing wide as if to really drive home to Ellie how much of an understatement he already knows he’s made. “Yeah.”

Ellie sighs, wanting desperately to get the next part right. “And I felt like I needed to say I’m sorry. Y’know, in front of you.”

“You said sorry back when we filmed. We’re over it, it’s fine,” Lawrence says flatly, conveying that everything is not fine.

“It’s not fine, though. I wouldn’t have come down if it was fine. Things haven’t been fine since that day, and like…I miss you, Lawrence, I don’t want to lose you as a friend, or as a sister, or as…” Ellie stumbles, looking to the floor as he tries to articulate the other facet of their relationship. “…whatever else we are. Whatever else we were. I’m sorry for fucking everything up.”

There’s a silence in which the pair of them freeze and hold their breath. Time could very well be standing still for all Ellie knows. He immediately regrets bringing up all of…that. He should’ve kept it to friendship, shouldn’t have added anything on. Before he can overthink any more or begin to backtrack, a small sigh from Lawrence makes him look up.

“I thought you hated me,” he says. His voice is small and the words are unexpected. There’s so much Ellie could say in response. He settles on a joke.

“No, I think you’re a cunt. There’s a difference,” Ellie smiles tightly, the joke tentative. The snort it gets from Lawrence makes his smile grow without him being able to help it. “Was that a good one? Thought I was the unfunniest person on the planet?”

“We weren’t talking about your Bake Off improv,” Lawrence raises his eyebrows as he smirks, and Ellie fakes a wounded laugh.

“Shady cow.”

“I’m sorry,” Lawrence says out of nowhere, his smile gone all of a sudden.

Ellie tries to drag the joke out a little longer, hold onto the sparks they’ve just created. “Nah, it was shit, you’re right.”

“No, Ellie…” Lawrence shakes his head, worrying his lip between his teeth a little. “I am sorry.”

Ellie feels the panic wash over him when he clocks the glisten in his eyes. “It’s fine, girl.”

“It’s not fine. I was a dick to you so many times, no fuckin’ wonder I thought you’d set me up. I would too if I had somebody talking down to me like I did to you,” Lawrence says gravely. His gaze is fixed on his floor and just as Ellie is about to speak he catches sight of two tears that fall onto the red carpet, the darkness akin to blood. His horror grows as Lawrence finally snaps his head up, tears shining in his eyes as he sighs helplessly in a shaky voice. “You’re amazing, Ellie, you’re such a talent, and…fuck, I missed you.”

His words mean more to him that Ellie had expected them to. He doesn’t want to let that show, though, because that’s too much, that means too much for the situation just now and he can deal with that realisation at a later date. For now, Ellie points at him in mock-accusation. “Hey listen, I’m the one that got the train down to come and make a big speech to you and say sorry. Buy your own damn train ticket for that.”

Lawrence’s voice is thick with tears as he lets out a short laugh. “Sorry.”

“Wee bitch. Always have to make everything about you,” Ellie rolls his eyes, getting another teary laugh out of Lawrence and raising his hopes that maybe they’ll be okay.

And then the banks break and Lawrence makes a little choked-up noise, a sob that’s not fully a sob. His eyes meet Ellie’s and they’re full of so much sadness and regret that just looking at them creates a crack in Ellie’s heart, one that matches the crack in Lawrence’s voice as he speaks again.

“This has all been shit to do without you.”

Ellie doesn’t think before opening his arms out, shaking his head affectionately. “Don’t be silly. C’mere.”

When Lawrence immediately opens out his own and they meet each other in the middle and hug tightly, Ellie feels like a balloon that’s been let go and is floating up to the sky.

The clouds aren’t grey.

The way they’re holding each other brings back too many memories. Seeing each other at gigs and feeling butterflies take hold of his stomach. Coming off stage after a number and conveying his pride in him without even having to say a word. Saying goodbye at train stations with disappointment lodging itself in his heart. All the nostalgia makes Ellie want to cry, but he can’t start now. Instead, he breaths a shaky sigh, shakes his head before he speaks.

“You’ve always had me, okay? You’ve always got me. We’ve said sorry now, that’s the end of it. Periodt,” Ellie murmurs against his shoulder, adding on his trademark at the end. The laugh he gets muffled against his chest in return makes him feel lighter.

“I’ve not showered. I definitely stink. You don’t have to keep hugging me, you know.”

“You don’t. I want to,” Ellie says back. He means it.

It’s Lawrence that slides out of the hug first but he’s still standing close as he quickly wipes away his tears, looks Ellie up and down with a smirk on his face. “So where’s your Travelodge, hen?”

Ellie’s sheepish when he makes eye contact with him again, shrugs one strap of the rucksack off before replying. “You know damn well I’ve not booked anywhere.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Right, come on,” Lawrence shakes his head affectionately, stepping back into his hallway and letting Ellie finally cross the threshold to drop his bag like an anchor in the flat. It’s the physical manifestation of the burden finally being lifted off of him, the guilt and the regret melting away in favour of the flutter of his heart and a few small sparks that he wants to put in resin. “I get to choose the film later as reparations. Don’t trust you since you made us watch Cat In The Hat.”

Ellie gives a shocked gasp, genuinely offended. “It’s good!”

“Is it fuck. In fact, just for that I’m going to make you sit through something sci-fi and geeky and you’re gonna hate it,” Lawrence smiles with genuine glee, and Ellie can’t even bring himself to be mad about it. As the pair of them walk through to the living room, Lawrence jumps onto the sofa and fixes Ellie with a look that is clearly meant to be serious but that simultaneously Lawrence can’t commit to and Ellie can’t believe. “You’re sleeping here tonight, by the way.”

Ellie raises his eyebrows as he fakes his agreement, going along with the charade Lawrence is beginning. They both know they’ll end up curled up together on the sofa with neither of them having an explanation for how it’s happened, but at the same time knowing they don’t have to explain themselves. They know that Ellie will end up falling asleep slumped against Lawrence and that he’ll have to gently shake him awake, that he’ll wordlessly offer Ellie a hand to drag him off the couch with and that they’ll go through to Lawrence’s room like always. They know that they’ll wake up tangled together like the sheets and that Ellie will be there for him, that he’ll help Lawrence piece himself back together and they’ll go back to the start. Well, maybe not the start. Perhaps somewhere better.

Ellie keeps his friends close, but Lawrence is something a little bit more. Something a little bit closer.

Baby, you’re my enemy.

[punkscowardschampions]

Zelda & Zach

ihatemyguts: Good thing you told me how bubble boy posi Robyn’s ‘rents are

ihatemyguts: ‘cos that felt like such a brush-off

ihatemyguts: I feel kinda bad, it’s low-key just upset her with no shopping trip pay-off 😬

inandout: your first date was today

inandout: the insane jealousy must have forced me to forget

ihatemyguts: Obviously

ihatemyguts: moping and staring out of open windows would be bad for your health

ihatemyguts: probably

ihatemyguts: can’t have that

inandout: mope hard enough and fling myself all over the house, they’ll call it exercise

ihatemyguts: I’d let Rob know but her parents would probably sue me

ihatemyguts: I did some research

ihatemyguts: and yeah, flare-ups fucking suck, but if she was struggling that bad rn she’d be in hospital getting her 💉 on

ihatemyguts: makes me ⁉️ if the meetup will happen

inandout: makes me wonder if her brothers are allowed out

inandout: if they are maybe they can help us smuggle her to the meetup

ihatemyguts: not just a pretty face

ihatemyguts: that’s a damn good idea

ihatemyguts: I can slide in their DMs

inandout: Cranking up the jealousy metre to give me a full work out, I see, are you gonna be a PE teacher when you grow up?

ihatemyguts: *prays they aren’t like 12*

ihatemyguts: imagine if that was my life’s ambition

ihatemyguts: wear unflattering sportswear and give kids complexes

ihatemyguts: even without the potential life-shortening illness, I’d reconsider that

inandout: it tracks that you’d wanna make them 💩 and bringing back the bleep test could work

ihatemyguts: okay I’m not 🦹‍♀️ or 🐯 levels of sweet but is that what you really think of me? 😏

inandout: I think there’s only one rebel teacher coming to mind and I haven’t watched that film so all I know is they stand on desks

inandout: probably not a perfect fit for you

ihatemyguts: I could force you to watch it for our first date

ihatemyguts: and ask you, what your dream job would be

inandout: Netflix and chill or cinema screening of the ‘classics’?

inandout: we could do a drive-thru

ihatemyguts: hmm 🤔

ihatemyguts: there are pluses to ‘em all

ihatemyguts: cinema, we could laugh at all the snobs and 🤓s

inandout: Cool, reach out to me with the time + date when it’s showing

inandout: Are you allowed 🍿?

ihatemyguts: oh hell no

ihatemyguts: have to find another way to hold my hand

inandout: 🦸‍♀️ said she was gonna look up ice breakers and stuff, hopefully it was a fruitful search and she won’t mind sharing the info

ihatemyguts: do you think she legit didn’t realize how thirsty that boy was for her

ihatemyguts: or is it all uwu coy-ness

inandout: It’s hard to tell

inandout: but if I remember my glasses I’ll do my best to decode her body language from 6 ft away

ihatemyguts: aside from hospital, have you ever met someone else with cf?

inandout: Nope

inandout: jokes aside, it really is discouraged

ihatemyguts: that’s a hard one to get your head around

ihatemyguts: far as adjustments go

inandout: getting Robbie at this meetup won’t be easy

inandout: separate ones mean we might not have her there

ihatemyguts: I reckon we can trust you and Kara to keep the teen love story fictional

ihatemyguts: for all our sake’s

inandout: She’ll get her man

inandout: it’s not like bad advice and dating pitfalls are just a click away

ihatemyguts: cosmos never steered ANYONE wrong

inandout: Yahoo answers neither

ihatemyguts: might be confused as to why they’re not related

inandout: [I like to think he’s just sending his fave yahoo answer answers now for the lols]

ihatemyguts: [meme back and forth lads]

ihatemyguts: if she gets her date we could go into the matchmaker business

ihatemyguts: start at home

ihatemyguts: 🤖 don’t last forever

inandout: Rob’ll need to be next or she won’t forgive us

inandout: and we’ll soon get tired/guilty of seeing the amount of 😿💔 spam the chat

ihatemyguts: we’ll have to liberate her first

ihatemyguts: in a literal way

ihatemyguts: not the pretentious, free your 🧠 type of vibe

inandout: Kidnap’s playing into her parents’ fears but we don’t have a better option

ihatemyguts: now it’s my turn for a potential 💡

ihatemyguts: what if that is exactly what she should do

inandout: jump scare them?

ihatemyguts: if she did some actual wild shit to show them they’re being suffocating, ‘scuse the mention, then they’ll have to compromise and let her do normal kid things and everyone will win

ihatemyguts: I realize getting her to wild out might be a problem

ihatemyguts: catfish it though?

inandout: 💡⭐️

inandout: getting her to agree to do it for real would take longer than we have but you’re right, faking it wouldn’t take any time at all

ihatemyguts: get Lauren to picture whatever the hell she’s up to

ihatemyguts: sorted

inandout: + there’s your next photo challenge ready to be accepted, dressing as if you were going on a date with 👵🌈✨ instead

ihatemyguts: hold my neon

ihatemyguts: and think, do we clue Rob in on this plan now or do it on her behalf first, ‘cos we could hit up her house phone with some madness to get ‘em sus now and when she’s like wuuuuut it’ll sound even more

ihatemyguts: or is that a bit evil genius instead of 🦹‍♀️

inandout: Does she even have a house phone? We don’t

inandout: you’ll have to find another way to trick my parents into believing I’m a badass

ihatemyguts: I bet they do

ihatemyguts: can’t trust a mobile

ihatemyguts: and I bet they don’t have a microwave, they’re that sort

ihatemyguts: obvs I’ll just direct them to Lauren on your friends list with a 🤔

inandout: We should probably warn her, in case she takes it the wrong way

inandout: or decides to stand up to them for her YA movie moment

ihatemyguts: yeah, you’re right

ihatemyguts: if she doesn’t go for it, her brothers might be of use still

ihatemyguts: have to focus my evil energy elsewhere

ihatemyguts: such as…

ihatemyguts: 🥁

ihatemyguts: [one of the crazier lewks from babyteeth for the photo challenge]

inandout: 🤞🏻 one of them is old enough to drive the people carrier

inandout: Uhh… that was a suspiciously fast transformation

ihatemyguts: didn’t know you was challenging a pro?

ihatemyguts: and someone with a lot of time on her hands

inandout: I do now

inandout: and I’m guessing it’s not every day you get stood up based on what else I know about you

ihatemyguts: it’s a first

ihatemyguts: not that I constantly ask people out

ihatemyguts: but that is what I’ve put across so fair enough

ihatemyguts: what am I interrupting for you?

inandout: I’m waiting on friends

inandout: this could end in both of us being stood up

ihatemyguts: am I a drag you down with me type?

ihatemyguts: hmm

ihatemyguts: nah, I’ll cross my fingers that your friends aren’t flaky

inandout: Late, but I’d be too if it wasn’t my house

inandout: What are you gonna do now shopping’s off?

ihatemyguts: life is one big photo challenge, right

ihatemyguts: yours is ‘whatever will make your friends double-take when they open the door’

ihatemyguts: it’s a good question

ihatemyguts: we’re going to virtual shop tomorrow but she wasn’t up for it today

inandout: Wait for it and their faces

inandout: + you’re virtually invited to watch movies and play games, you won’t be the only one who isn’t here in person

ihatemyguts: 👍

ihatemyguts: cool

ihatemyguts: meeting new people is my new thing, as long as your mates are down/not the level of nerd that they might get a nosebleed if a girl is about

inandout: Some of them are girls if that helps

inandout: and my brother won’t be there to bring down the cool

ihatemyguts: low-key a shame

ihatemyguts: have to meet him before the first date though

inandout: I’ve got a father you can ask for permission if you’re feeling old-fashioned

ihatemyguts: full set

ihatemyguts: fun

ihatemyguts: mines in scotland so we’ll let you off that trek

inandout: But a road trip is a coming of age movie staple! 😫 Has Netflix aired any YA without one + are you willing to take that risk?

inandout: mine’s a workaholic but we’ve got years to catch him

ihatemyguts: forget the meds, see who gets fucked up first

ihatemyguts: it’d be a journey, for sure

ihatemyguts: do you know what he does? ‘cos so’s mine and I couldn’t tell you, tbh

inandout: Or mix them up and see what happens when you take the ones for my 💩

inandout: He’s a sales manager, he says, but why so vague?

ihatemyguts: sounds like something they’d do at cool parties

ihatemyguts: and that sounds suspish

ihatemyguts: they should have this 🤓 but with a moustache instead of the buckteeth

ihatemyguts: dads are elusive creatures… conspiracy time, what are they all up to

inandout: Not sure that’s the topic Rich has been watching vids on but I’ll ask

ihatemyguts: he can always tactfully ignore you if he’s 😳

ihatemyguts: like he does with 👵🌈✨ when she’s extra

ihatemyguts: more than usual

inandout: Be harder to do that in person

ihatemyguts: I think everyone will still get on

ihatemyguts: unless fibrofog shows, then that’ll be teen show worthy drama, of course

inandout: I think he’s genuinely blocked, he’d need a 2nd account to find out about it

ihatemyguts: hope he’s seen catfish too

inandout: He’d be a fan of the one where the man refused to believe it wasn’t Katy Perry

ihatemyguts: it does seem like the sort of thing she’d do

ihatemyguts: poor bastard

inandout: 😂

ihatemyguts: ultimate photo challenge, catfishing everyone and then going for the ruveal

ihatemyguts: might need more than just a wig 🤔😏

inandout: Dressing like her would make my friends do a double-take

inandout: [pics of some of her outrageous lewks with his head put on]

ihatemyguts: 😂😂😂

ihatemyguts: you suit the 🍦🧁🍭🍩✨

inandout: We’ve probably got a can of squirty cream lying around for hot chocolate

ihatemyguts: inhaler but make it ~sExxxIii~

inandout: [a lil video of his failed attempt to re-create that in her insta DMs or wherever because idk if they can send stuff like that here]

ihatemyguts: Katy dat you 😍😍

inandout: I’ve agreed to only string you along for 4 years not 6 and I don’t have any savings to spend 25% of on a 💍

inandout: looks like the comparison starts and stops with our black curls

ihatemyguts: not much of an orlando bloom clone myself so it’s alright

ihatemyguts: pirate is always an excellent disabled-friendly costume though so add that to the ideas board we should start

inandout: If we decide the next meetup is fancy dress, Lauren will never go back home

ihatemyguts: that’s the mood

inandout: [sends her whatever he did for the photo challenge and his friends reaction to it because why not say they’ve arrived and there’s a similar feral mood here]

[goddessofthundathighs]

II. EXPOSED

One Year Later

“So how are things with you and Adonis “Beat the Pussy Up Like Fight Night” Creed?” Ashley quipped before devouring the spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“Shhhh! Do you want all of LA to hear you?!” Amina cries, glancing around the corner of the booth they were seated in to make sure no one had heard.

“I just asked a simple question.”

“You did, very loudly. What if someone she knows is in here? Hell what if someone we know is in here?” Amina’s paranoia had grown in the last few months, especially after she almost sent Erik a racy photo that was intended for Adonis.

“If you’re so scared, why don’t you break it off?” Amara asks, finally joining in on the conversation. “You said yourself that this was only supposed to be a one time thing. What changed your mind?” Amina didn’t have an answer. Though Erik could be a bit harsh and slow to open up emotionally, he was a good man and he treated her like a princess. He was constantly telling her how much he adored her and how she’d changed him for the better. It broke her heart to think of how crushed he’d be if he found out what she was doing behind his back, but in the moment, when she was with Adonis nothing else mattered.

“It’s complicated.”

“I call bullshit,” Ashley said frankly. “Granted I don’t like Erik’s mean ass, but he doesn’t deserve this, Mina.”

“But you bitches were the ones encouraging me to do it in the first place!” Amina countered.

“Yes bitch, a one night stand! Once, singular, uno! You out here getting ya shit rocked every other night and I know Erik done picked up on the fact that your pussy ain’t poppin’ for him no more.”

When did this bitch become so damn inquisitive? Amina thought to herself, but again, Ashley was right. By the time Erik made it home for the night and was ready to have his way with her, she would be too tired from being with Adonis. Although he never said anything, she knew it hurt him to feel undesired.

“If he has, he hasn’t said anything.”

“He ain’t stupid, Mina. He knows,” Amara says, taking a sip of her drink. Amina sighed heavily. She knew that whatever she had with Adonis needed to end, especially since he showed no signs of leaving Bianca like he said he would.

“I’ll call him today and end things. I like having sex with him, but I love Erik more.”

“Good girl, and you know we’ll be here for moral support,” Ashley says rubbing Amina’s arm.

“Thanks y’all. I really don’t know what I’d do without y’all.” The women shared a group hug before Amina slid out of the booth. Ashley and Amara watched as she climbed into the driver’s seat of her Mercedes and drive off in the direction of Adonis’s apartment.

“She gone end up sliding on dick,” Ashley says as Amina’s car disappears in the distance.

“I hope she’s smarter than that,” Amara replies distractedly, too consumed with the text message she was sending. “I’ll be back, I got a dick appointment.”

“Well fuck, just leave me all by myself then,” Ashley pouted, folding her arms over her chest.

“Girl you better call Rashad and get ya wig knocked askew,” Amara calls behind her with a grin, already halfway out the door.

**

The drive to Adonis’s apartment was short, partially because Amina had driven there so many times that she’d learned a shortcut that cut the commute in half. She sat in the parking lot, debating if she should just barge in unannounced or text him instead. She opted for the latter, mostly because she wasn’t prepared for a confrontation in front of Bianca. She drummed the steering wheel anxiously as she awaited his response.

Dominos 🍕: Text YES to complete enrollment. 6 msgs per Easy Order.

Donnie 🥊🏆: She’s not around me..

Dominos 🍕: Can I come by?

Donnie 🥊🏆: Not a good time..

Dominos 🍕: Can you talk?

Donnie 🥊🏆: I got a minute.

The line rang twice before Donnie’s deep voice emerged from the other side.

“What’s up ma?”

“I can’t do this anymore, Adonis,” Amina’s stern voice rang from the other end of the phone. It came out quick, almost as if she’d rushed the words and it caught Adonis off guard. He knew this day would come, but in his mind, he still had time to figure out what he was gonna do about Bianca.

“Come on Mina, I just need some more time,” he pleaded, chancing a glance at Bianca who was currently rehearsing for her latest performance. Though he loved her, his heart was also tied to Amina and he wasn’t sure how he would deal with the thought of losing either one of them.

“You’ve had a year, Adonis. Either make a decision soon or I’ll make it for you. I’m tired of sneaking around and deleting text message and location notifications. Either you’re gonna leave her or you’re gonna stay, there’s no inbetween.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Adonis replies. “Meet me at my place tonight at 7. I’ll make it right.” With that, the line went dead and Amina was left with her thoughts. Her mind reeled with thoughts of what Adonis might say during their meetup. Would he decide to end things himself? Were his feelings for her ever really genuine? She knew she shouldn’t feel some type of way, especially since she knew the situation she was getting herself into from the beginning, but she was still an emotional being that took everything personally, especially rejection. She shook her head as she pulled out of the parking lot and grabbed her phone again, calling the one person she knew would be able to talk her out of her emotions.

“Hey Siri, call Big Sis.”

**

“You raced over here, huh?” the deep timbre of his voice sent chills down her spine as she stepped into the apartment. African paintings and sculptures decorated the living room, a nod to his royal lineage.

“I guess I missed you or whatever,” she replies, twirling a curl around her finger.

“Whatever, you missed this dick,” he counters smugly, golden slugs peeking from behind his bottom lip as he smirked. It was a sight that had her clenching.

“That too, so gimme what I came over here for.”

“Oh that’s cute, you think you run shit over here. What’s my name?”

“Erik.” He chuckled darkly as he stepped closer to her.

“I don’t think I heard you right, so I’ma ask again. What’s my name?” She planted her feet in the spot she was standing, lifting her head to look him in the eye.

“Erik.” This time he reaches out and grabbed her throat, squeezing enough that it drew a moan from her soft lips.

“Last chance. What’s my name?”

“Eriiiiiiik!”

The more she screamed his name and clawed at his back, the deeper and harder he plunged into her. Erik had checked out a long time ago and Killmonger was awake with a new vengeance. He’d known that something was different with Amina for the last few months, but couldn’t quite pick up on what it was. Then when he checked her phone records and obtained copies of the text messages she’d been sending and receiving, the message was clear. She’d been cheating on him. While he was out of town on business, she was giving what was his to another man. It burned him up inside and the rage he felt was currently spurring his lust.

“That’s not my name, sweetheart. Try again,” he growled into her ear and her walls clenched tight around him, signaling yet another orgasm on the horizon.

“Oooh, you hardheaded tonight,” he hissed as he slowed his strokes briefly. “Who give you permission to cum?”

“I’m sorry, Kill,” she whined as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled darkly as he lined himself up with her entrance yet again.

“Oh you ain’t seen sorry, babygirl. Grab ya ankles.” He continued his rough pace, using her as his personal fuck doll until he had emptied himself into the condom.

“Clean yourself up, your sister will be home any minute,” he gestures to Amara, tossing her shirt to her. His name being called from the floor pulled his attention to Amara’s jeans beside her purse.

“Fuck.”

It ain’t cheating // It’s a whatchamacallit (Ooh ow!)

This could be our little secret // A whatchamacallit (Ow! Ooh)

TAGS: @vikkidc @thadelightfulone @sydneebleu @blktinkerbell @madamslayyy @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @thehomierobbstark @eye-raq @iamrheaspeaks @mareethequeen @forbeautyandlife @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @blowmymbackout @wakanda-inspired @nickidub718 @heyauntieeee @princessstevens @bakarilennox @xaviera108 @alexundefined @raysunshine78 @dameshaemonique @laketaj24 @youreadthatright @theogbadbitch @blackpantherismyish @bugngiz @amirra88 @post-woke @im5ftbutmythroat66 @blackpinup22 @maya-leche @blessyd-bthyname @unholyxcumbucket @eclecticblkgirl @kissmyafropuff @rick-sosa @jennajai @allhailqueennel @killmongersbaby @yoursoulstea @soulfulbeauty19 @laughdown @panthergoddessbast @abeautifulmindexposed @alexundefined @yoyolovesbucky @ghostfacekill-monger @tyees @dessianna1 @thickemadame

[loulougoingsolo]

DIYing a Bold Hair Choice

So, as we all know, we live in troubling times. I've personally been living in quarantine-like arrangements for about a month now, and although I've been mostly doing alright, some things have proven to be hard. I was supposed to have my hair professionally cut and dyed this week, but I had to cancel the appointment, and at the moment, I don't know when I'll get to visit the salon for the next time. So, I had to take matters (or scissors) to my own hands.

I'm a DIYer, but I've never cut my own hair. I've also had it professionally dyed since I was 15 or so. For a short period, I only had it bleached and cut by a pro, but then dyed it myself with a pretty intense cool shade of red - but other than that, and a few toner touch ups, I've always relied on professionals. So I was in a bit of a pickle, when I realized that I'd have to either DIY or have my grey roots grow wild for months. And because my hair is short, the roots way too grey for my age, and I had all this time ln my hands, there was really only one way this could go.

When I go about a DIY project, my first step, always, is thorough research. I had an idea for what I'd attempt to achieve, so I went on Youtube and searched for diy haircuts. I got some good tutorials, but most of them were for long hair - and I also got suggested GMM episode #989, in which Rhett and Link battle in cutting their own hair (wigs). Can I just say, they predicted the Tiger King craze long before Netflix:

So, I immediately figured I would not be able to follow yhe hair styling tutorials of this GMM episode. First of all, I could only find one pair of scissors even remotely sharp enough to cut hair. They were not sharp enough. Secondly, the longest part of my hair barely reaches my chin. I would need to really commit to every snip I make, or I'd end up with a bald hair style, instead of bold. As attractive and gorgeous some people are with a fully shaved head, with my head shape, that was something to avoid at all costs.

Another thing I was worried about was that I'd probably end up cutting my own finger, like Link. I've always found it extra difficult to see my own reflection in a mirror and try to do accurate motions according to the reflection. Simply put, my brain gets confused. Also, I don't really have a way to see the back of my head through the mirror at all. How the crap am I supposed to cut anything?

At this point, I understood that the actual haircut was going to be the tough part, so I decided to focus on the dye. Since I cojldn't just go to a big supermarket to buy the equipment, I had to order the dyes online. At this point my plan was simply to buy a multitude of wild colours to mix and match according to my mood, so I ordered a tub of Midnight Blue, Daffodil Yellow, Flamingo Pink and Cerise dyes, all by the brand La Riche Directions. These dyes are semi-permanent, sonI knew they wouldn't cause permanent damage to my hair, and at this point, that was kind of my goal - whatever I do, I don'g want to ruin things too badly. But, because I'm familiar with semi-permanent dyes, and I've had pretty much every shade on the spectrum on my hair at one point, I knew I might require an extra step to see results. Which is why, "just in case", I added a hair lightening kit to my order. I figured, I'd make some lighter strands on top, to have some colours show properly.

By the time the dyes arrived, I was already pretty fed up with my grey roots. I watched the GMMore which followed the hair cut episode. Rhett, who won the haircut challenge, got to decide what colours would go in Alex's hair. Alex had done the smart thing and bleached his hair professionally to be dyed in this episode, but he somehow agreed to letting Rhett and Link add the colours.

When Rhett explains everyone how he and Link used to dye eachother's hair back in the day, I realize that even though I'm technically watching a DIY hair tutorial, they aren't actually doing it themselves. It's quite different to put dye on someone else's head than your own. (Also, something I didn't notice back when I first saw this episode: Link says it would be crazy for him to have his hair dyed, but looking back, he most certainly had his hair dyed at this time.)

It was slightly alarming to see that Alex was worried about how things would go. I could hardly expect to achieve anything much better than the guys, since at least they had the studio lighting and a full team to help rhem not screw up. I had a mirror in my dark toilet, which is barely big enough to stand in.

I also forgot to buy vaselkne, which was a big mistake - although I don't think it's even possible to buy a container that big here. Why would they have that at Mythical in the first place? But something about seeing how much trouble the guys were having controlling the unmixed streaks of dye and all that vaseline made me worried.

At this point, I need to tell you that seeing the blank canvas which was Alex's hair, I, now the proud owner of a 40 % bleack kit (which apparently is the strong stuff), decided I was not going to waste energy by trying to dye my hair without bleaching, only to find out that the colours didn't show. So, I mixed the bleach, put on a worn-out t-shirt, used hand lotion to vas up my forehead, neck and ears, and then just went for it.

I did watch quite a few proper tutorials. They taught me, firstly, that 40% was a no-no. Secondly, never bleach something that has already been bleached, especially, if your hair has multiple colours. Forth, never start from the roots, as they get bleached faster (this ended up being the only rule I followed). And, above all, go to a professional.

So, I added the bleach to my hair. First I tried sticking to just a few strands, but then a blop of the bleach fell on the wrong spot, and I figured, why not just go full head. I did. I left the stuff on for maybe 20 minutes, and after that I got scared and rinsed it off. Then, I used a silver toner, and was left with a fascinating mix of orange, yellow and white hair - and a strand of persistent green from my previous dye. But it was blond enough for my plans.

Alex had a beautiful mix of blue, pink and purple in his hair - and that accidental splash of green - and after considering thoroughly, I decided to go for these colours, too. I mean, pink, purple and blue are my jam. Also, as much as I wanted to go full rainbow, I figured it would be an impossible task to keep the different colours from mixing, and that might result in brown, which is the colour of defeat. So, I went with midnight blue, flamingo pink and cerise, and wasn't too concerned aboit getting the colours mixed together.

This is how Alex's hair looked on the episode, before he rinsed the extra dye off:

I couldn't find any good photos of his hair after it was rinsed, but tgere was one which suggested only a faint shade of blue stuck.

And finally, here's what happened with my hair. Now, I'm not posting my face here, just the hair. Imagine a white blop with green eyes below the hair, and you'll get the idea. In the first two pictures is my hair during normal times, and just before I diyed it. It looks particularly nasty in the just before hack job pic, because it was adviced not to wash your hair before bleachkng to save the scalp - but as you can see, this was not a fun thing to see in the mirror each morning:

After I had dyed my hair, I did some snips here and there, and also, because I was able to borrow a hair clipper from my dad, some clipping - which in my books, saved the day. The haircut is pretty botched, but I actually absolutely love the colour. And the criss-cross shave despite it being pretty bad - it also looks badass in real life. The picture taken outside shows the pink colours more accurately, but the cut shows better in the other pic. There are a couple of ways I can style this later on, but I kept styling to minimum for starters, because I didn't want to cause extra damage to my hair:

So, this has been the story of how I diyed my hair during quarantine. My mom loves the whole thing (I showed it to her yesterday while taking them groceries), and although there are some spots in the back which could have more colour in them, I'm pretty satisfied. I know my hairdresser is going to weep when she sees me, but she'll get over it.

So, in conclusion: Would I do this again? Yes, but I'd definately leave the cutting and bleaching to the pros. Also, now I can't really bleach again for a while. But I'm actually thinking about taking the dyes I have to my hairdresser so she can dye my hair properly with them, in a healthier way, once all this chaos settles and it's safe again. I'd probably need a slightly darker, permanent colour to the roots, but I absolutely love these insanely bright colours. And I'm so going to try the full rainbow this summer, too.

Would I recommend this to others? Yes, but with caution. The direct semi-permanent colours are safe and won't damage the hair, but bleach does. My hair is naturally a tad too dark to show bright colours properly, so I took the risk. I was also mentally prepared to shave the whole thing off and wear my mythical hat for the summer - but I'm happy that wasn't necessary. If you aren't willing to risk damaging your hair, stick to semi-permanents.

To end this post, here's a selfie I took yesterday on my grocery store trip in full safety gear (I have a paper mask under the scarf):

Stay safe! Do things that make you happy! BYMB! 💗💗💗

[fantasyfandommaiden]

Nathalie’s Contingency Plan

Adrien was not to be placed in danger at all during the attacks

Gabriel was not to akumatized Carmine Regal, Lloyd Cheveler, Blaine Bishop or Thistle Castle.

If in the VERY unlikely condition one of them got caught by the police, they would not reveal the identity of the other.

However, Nathalie finds herself regretting saving Gabriel’s sorry ass during Hero’s Day. The only reason she did so was so that Adrien wouldn’t be without a parent, and she didn’t want anyone thinking he had anything to do with this… Also, after the events of Adrien’s Driver getting akumatized AND her best friend being turned into Royal Harmine? Yeah, Nathalie decides she needs to start with her own personal ‘project’, and she will need all of her friends help for it.

[[MORE]]

~~~~~~~~

The first part of Nathalie’s plan was fairly simple, it involved her visiting her friend Lloyd at his office during their lunch hour, which Lloyd had found somewhat suspicious but didn’t comment on it… Directly anyway. The prosecutor had been picked up at his office and brought out to a nice small restaurant to have lunch when he finally brought up the question to his dark haired friend.

“So, why did you invite me out of the blue?” he asked, looking at his bispecled friend.

Nathalie looked back at him blankly, taking a bite of her sandwich “I can’t invite my friends to lunch?”

“You can, you just usually do it two weeks in advance, not two hours.” Lloyd stated, eyebrow raised “... whats up?”

Nathalie stayed silent for several moments, placing the sandwich down. “... Carmine was akumatized…” she said softly.

Lloyd’s eyes widened in understanding, as he nodded. It wasn’t exactly a secret among their group of friends about Nathalie’s feelings for Carmine, except maybe for Carmine. Blaine once commented that he wanted to pull his hair out in frustration at the ‘slow burn romance’ that was happening and on numerous occasions had threatened to toss the both of them into a closet to ‘work things out’.

“She was… we stayed with her all weekend though and she seems okay.”

“Still, she shouldn’t have been…” Nathalie stated darkly “And she almost defeated Chat Noir and Ladybug…”

“To be fair.” Lloyd stated “Carmine could probably take them on without being akumatized. You’ve seen how hard she hits with a staff.”

Nathalie said nothing because it didn’t need confirmation. Carmine could be extremely deadly with a staff when needed, she even carried around a collapsable one in her bag if she ever needed it. “Still… it makes you think.”

“That no one is safe from the madman, agreed.” Lloyd said, taking another sip of his glass of cold water. “I can’t tell you HOW many people are suing him right now for mental and emotional injuries…” Lloyd stated sighing loudly. “It’s a mountain of paperwork right now against a man we don’t even have a name for, better hope this man is rich or he will be in debt for the next thirteen life times, if all of his property isn’t sold off first.”

Nathalie perked up slightly, looking at him “Really? What about if he is co-owner of a business or a trust-fund kid, would that be seized too?” she asked curiously.

Lloyd let out a soft hum, glancing up in thought “Well… if he was co-owner of a company, and we successfully sued him, than he would need to sell his shares of the company. If he was the OWNER of the company it would be the same, all of his shares would be used to pay it off. His trust fund, if he had one, would be used as well. After ALL of that, than he go to jail for a very, very long time.”

Nathalie nodded “I imagine if he has any family, they would be obligated to help as well…” she said off handedly, taking a sip of her drink.

“No, not really.” Lloyd started with a shrug, “I mean, a FAMILY obligation maybe, but not a law-abiding one. No, if I was the family lawyer, I would advise them to not have any contact with Hawkmoth at all, and plead ignorance to the fact, even if they DID know something.”

Nathalie raised a brow “Why? Shouldn’t they all go down?” she asked critically “For all we know, if Hawkmoth has a family, they could all be in on it. Possibly even helping CAUSE akumas.”

“Ouch, thats harsh Nathalie…” Lloyd stated, looking at his friend “... Look, your not wrong, and I realise that Hawkmoth has some kind of partner or associate, um, whats her name, the bird lady.” he said, looking at Nathalie who gave a slight shrug at the question, not appearing to know the answer, to which Lloyd just waved it off “Anyways, we haven’t seen her often, so she may just be another Akuma, in which case she can’t be held responsible for her actions. Heck, for all we know, she could be blackmailed or coercioused into doing this by Hawkmoth. Carmine mentioned that she never seemed thrilled or ‘into it’ whenever she fought alongside an akuma.”

Nathalie looked surprised at the off-handed comment “I hadn’t realised Carmine was that up close and personal to the akuma fights.” she inquired, eyebrow raised.

“‘Close and personal’ might be a stretch. I think most of its from either the Ladyblog or what the victims tell her.” Lloyd said evenly, shrugging one shoulder as he took another sip of his water.

Nathalie let out a soft hum, than perked up slightly seeming to remember something “Oh, I know we are back-tracking somewhat, but do you mind if I borrow some books of yours? I need to look some things up…”

~~~~~~~

Two days later, Nathalie regreted her decision on going out partying with Thistle at the club. She was in her 30’s, why did she go out and drink that much?

The dark haired woman let out a low groan as she slowly opened her eyes as she looked at the nightstand in front of her. Even without her glasses on, she could see the framed photo of Thistle with their parents in front of a house, all three of them in work clothes and tool boxes. The photo had been taken when Thistle was still in high school, before Thistle began to dye their hair the bright pink it is now.

“She lives!” Nathalie heard a voice beside her say much to loudly, causing Nathalie’s head to ache. She turned over on her side and saw Thistle sitting there on the bed, cross-legged, quickly typing away on a laptop. Thistle was wearing a pair of black boxers and a white tank top as pajamas, when Nathalie looked for the usual button that Thistle wore to tell the world what gender they were representing but saw none.

Thistle as if sensing this, simply stated “He/him, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Nathalie stated truthfully, closing her eyes. She then realised that all she felt were the sheets on her body… “Oh god, tell me we didn’t-”

“No, we did nothing.” Thistle told her, smirking “You got ‘too hot’ and insisted to sleep in the buff… Also, you threw up on your shirt. I washed it, it’s in the dryer now.”

“... I drank til I puked?” Nathalie asked confused, looking at Thistle with a bewildered expression.

“Oh, no. You ate something that didn’t agree with you.” he said, continuing to type. “But man, you and I haven’t gone out drinking just the two of us in a dogs age! What brought this on?”

Nathalie rolled her eyes, sitting up as she pulled the blankets close to her chest “Work has been killing me. Fashion week is happening again soon, and I can’t get a moment free to myself, I needed to just… be wild I guess.”

“And you thought of me for that? Awww.” Thistle said, smiling widely “And I even got to cuddle you too!”

Nathalie rolled her eyes, rubbing her eyes “Shut up…”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if I was Carmine~” Thistle sang, not hiding his smirk as he noted the blush that spread across Nathalie’s face. She grabbed the pillow that she had been holding and whacked him across the face.

“Shut up!”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that!” Thistle said, grinning widely “I’m only teasing! You know my one goal in life is to make you blush with a pick-up line.”

“It’s too early for teasing…” Nathalie groaned, falling back on the bed, looking back at the photograph on Thistle’s nightstand. “... Hey, Thistle?”

“Yes Nathalie?” he said, still typing away on his laptop.

“Can I have your parents phone number?”

~~~~~~~

Nathalie knew she needed Blaine’s help as well, however it didn’t so much have to do much with his career as a reporter and more to do with his personal hobbies. Needless to say, since he was mighty suspecious since she never took an interest in this ‘hobby’.

“What’s the catch?” Blaine asked as he was finished placing his colour contacts in, his eyes now a bright cat yellow with the slitted pupils “You’ve never had an interest IN cosplay, and suddenly you want a crash course on the matter???”

Nathalie stood off to the side, eyeing the man’s wall of wigs with a raised brow “... Which one do you need?”

“The stark grey one, half up half down, shoulder length.” he instructed “And you didn’t answer my question!” Blaine stated as Nathalie handed him over the wig.

“Can’t I take an interest in my friend’s hobbies?” she asked all to innocently. Blaine looked at her with an unimpressed expression, which proved to be somewhat freaky with the cat eyes and fake scars he had on his face. “... It’s not completely for me.” she finally admitted.

“I figured. It takes an army to convince you to wear something outside of a pantsuit, and suddenly you're interested in the ART of cosplay???” Blaine stated, taking the wig from Nathalie as he began to place it on his head, which already had the wig cap on it.

“... Adrien mentioned wanting to attend a convention that was happening soon.” Nathalie stated slowly “I know he would prefer not to have his driver stalking over him and I figured a costume would be the easiest way for him to attend without his bodyguard following him ten steps away.”

Blaine looked over at Nathalie with a raised brow “... So, let me get this straight… You want me to teach you how to cosplay so you can teach Adrien?”

“I’m fairly certain that Adrien already knows about cosplay, I just wish to know enough so I dont get lost when he explains his plans to me. As well as basic supplies for it…”

~~~~~~

Saturday night Nathalie had invited all of her four friends to her apartment for an impromptu ‘planning session’. Now this could be anything from playing dungeons and dragons to watching a movie to planning world domination… what they hadn’t expected was to see Nathalie in sweat pants and a tee-shirt and a large stack of boxes beside her. “Oh good, your all here to help.”

Lloyd and Blaine looked at her in utter confusion well Thistle and Carmine looked around the apartment, noticing that a lot of Nathalie’s stuff was already placed into the boxes. “Um… you moving or something Nath?” Lloyd asked curiously, looking at the boxes.

Thistle’s eyes widened as they walked up to Nathalie, grabbing her shoulders as they looked Nathalie in the eye “This is why you wanted my parents number?! For their business?! I thought you were going to finally ask them for my hand in marriage!!!” they said, gently shaking Nathalie’s shoulders, who looked at her friend with an unimpressed expression.

“Thistle, we aren’t even dating.”

“But still!”

“Wait.” Carmine finally spoke, looking at Nathalie and Thistle “You mean your parents STILL running ‘Castle Retail and Repairs’? I thought they retired last year.” she asked, walking up to the two of them.

Thistle let out a sigh “Yeah, they planned on it, but you know my parents! Their workaholics and enjoy fixing old houses too much.” The pink haired adult stated before turning back to Nathalie “Wait, you talked to me less than a week ago… did you honestly buy a house?!”

Nathalie looked at them all before sighing “... Yes, I bought a house roughly a ten minute drive from here. It’s a bit of a fixer-upper but your parents gave me a good deal for it.” Nathalie stated bluntly before turning towards the mountain of boxes “I need your help to pack all of this up, than I’m going to slowly move into the house within the next month. So, Lloyd and Blaine, if you could start by fixing the boxes up-“

“Nathalie.”

The dark haired woman stopped speaking and looked towards Carmine who looked at her with concerned eyes. “... what’s going on?”

“...” Nathalie knew she had to be very, very careful how she worded this. Carmine could spot a lie a mile away and she honestly did not want to lie to her friends… the woman took a deep breath, walking to the kitchen table and picked up a small stack of papers, brining them over to Lloyd “Read the highlighted areas.”

Lloyd raised a brow before taking the papers, reading them out loud.

“In the event that my parents are unable to do so, than primary guardianship shall fall onto Nathalie Sancoeur for guardianship of my son A…” Lloyd’s eyes widened as he flipped the stack back to the front page, looking at the heading “... this is Emilie Agreste’s will.”

Everyone’s eyes looked towards Nathalie as she looked back at them all with an emotionless expression. “Yes, yes it is.”

“Wait…” Carmine looked at ghe will, than at Nathalie “... YOUR Adrien’s legal guardian?”

“Yes. Emilie had asked me to be Adrien’s guardian years ago. Honestly I had forgotten all about it until recently.” Nathalie stayed evenly “It wasn’t until one of the business that is under Emilie’s name came up that I reread the will, I was worried that it may affect the outcome of the business and I saw… that statement.”

Lloyd looked at Nathalie with a serious expression before he spoke “... you aren’t planning on fighting Gabriel for custody of Adrien are you?” It was no secret that Nathalie cared deeply for Adrien, even if she could never out right say it. Thistle once joked about ‘Meeting their new nephew’ and Blaine asked if ‘Adrien would walk Nathalie down the aisle at her wedding’ but to go against Gabriel? That was risky.

Nathalie scoffed, shaking her head “I’m not an idiot. Even if I don’t always agree with Gabriel’s parenting style, he has yet to cross the line into abuse.”

“Really? What about all the modelling, and the isolation, and the neglect!” Thistle said, looking towards Carmine and Lloyd “Come on, a Counsellor and a lawyer, surely he and broken some kind of law! This could be the kids break!”

“Adrien has never worked past 8 o’clock with photo shoots or over nine hours in a day, and Gabriel prides his brand on proper healthy models who are encouraged to eat a balanced diet.” Nathalie stated before either could speak “if anything its hard to get that boy to GAIN weight, he’s always hungry but never gains an ounce.”

“As for the isolation…” Carmine noticeably scowled “... sadly, it’s the same as being grounded. If your grounded than you can’t hang out with your friends. Gabriel is, sadly, within his right provided that it hasn’t gotten to extremes… but Nathalie, that doesn’t explain why your moving.”

Nathalie looked straight at her friends, shoulders squared, head held high “I plan to discuss with Adrien what he plans to do with his future. From what little I’ve gathered, I don’t believe he is interested in taking over the business or continuing modelling, his father will no doubt try to push it that way. When he turns 18, Adrien will be able to make his own decisions… and if he chooses to walk out of that house, I don’t want him on the streets.” Nathalie stated “There is an in-law suite in the basement of the house, if Adrien so chooses it will be his, but I don’t want to be scrambling to get it ready for him…”

Everyone remained silent for a long time, before Carmine simply stated “Okay. Where do we Start?”

Thistle, who has been looking at the Will asked “By telling me who the fuck the other guardian is and if they are single! Like, anyone know who this is?” Thistle asked, pointing at the other name on the will. Carmine looked at the name with a raised brow “Oh, that’s the Gorilla’s legal name, but everyone calls him Gorilla.”

~~~~~~

Two nights later, Nathalie had done her face in full make-up, contouring her face to make appear more angular, thickening her eyebrows and even placing brown coloured contacts in. She barely recognized herself in the mirror, which was a good thing.

The books on laws regarding trust funds still laced out on her table, from the looks of it, when this is all over, Adrien’s trust fund and his earnings from modelling would not be affected, however his shares in the company might, which wasn’t a big loss really.

The keys to her new house were on the hooks beside the door, an escape for Adrien should he ever need it ready when he was.

She placed the pin on, transforming into Mayura, then began to leap across towards her friend Carmine’s house.., it was time the two of them spoke.

[msayalailalim]

“My Hero Academia” inspired Fashion Week

          Earlier this year even when I was just counting down the days till I file my resignation already, I was still so numb from everything but there's this Anime show that pulled me out of it: "My Hero Academia". I was so excited to go home every after my shift to watch it like how I was excited to go home from school to watch my favorite cartoon shows back when I was still in elementary. It felt pretty nostalgic. ☺ I fell in love with everything about it so here I am with my 2nd fashion week project dedicated to the series!

          This time I challenged myself by making 7 looks! That's 2 looks more than my first one! I took this opportunity to use new materials for the designs like cotton swab, candle wax, clay, and foil wrapper. I even used more sewing thread for her wig here with different colors! 🤩

          Presenting my BNHA Fashion Collection! 😎

Instagram caption:

          “My first fashion week project was very fun and productive despite the challenges I encountered during the process. I certainly learned a lot, and now I'm headed to my next ball! 🤩 This week I'm challenging myself to create looks inspired by characters from this Anime series I love so much: "My Hero Academia"! 🥳 My goal is to incorporate the character's personality, design, and story with the looks I'll create this week as high fashion as I can. 😊 I'll be sharing what I'll come up with here from today until Sunday (October 4).

          Today is the first day, and I'm kickstarting this project by giving you nothing because there's literally nobody here! 😆 Only this vintage-looking ball gown with the letters "UA", the name of their academy, embellished on it (just like how their PE uniform is designed) with matching floppy hat! This whole look and also the absence of the one wearing it is inspired by the girl with the invisibility quirk/power named Toru Hagakure. 🙂 With this design I made sure that even if nobody can see her, you can still clearly see that she's fashionably plus ultra! 😊

          One thing I especially love about this Anime series is the fact that it features a diverse set of characters. They even have one who's literally invisible! I just really appreciate that they used different quirks as a symbol of their world's diversity because just like in our world, I believe we are all unique in our own ways and we should all celebrate that. 🥰 - Marv :)”

          When I was choosing the characters I'll take inspiration from, I knew I had to do Hagakure. Not because it seems easy but because it's fun and actually challenging! Taste the Fashion Plus Ultra realness! 🤗

Instagram caption:

          “My Hero Academia Fashion Week, Day 2! 🤩 Serving you hot and cold realness sprinkled with introversion and some daddy issues, this is inspired by the undeniable fan favorite, Shoto Todoroki! 🥰

          It wasn't on my initial plan to put bangs on it but when I tried to, I realized that it perfectly captured Shoto's mysterious, quiet and calm nature. I know he wouldn't let his bangs grow that long, it was just me being extra thinking it looks so high fashion. 😆 I went for the robelike outfit that's two toned representing Shoto's two quirks, and I cut it in two showing her tummy which is so stylish for me. 👌 Overall, I think it's a simple look but I believe I was able to project that subtle elegance and charisma I see in Shoto with my interpretation. 🥰

          Todoroki is really one of my favorite characters from the series not just because of his character's aesthetic but also his depth in general due to his high-pressure and toxic upbringing. I'm just glad that in the recent season, there's already a development in his relationship with his father, Endeavor. I want nothing but the best for him. 🤩 - Marv :)”

          "Sia in the house!" is what it seems but it's just my doll challenging her Todoroki fantasy! It was supposed to be a robe but the material I used wasn't the most cooperative. Nonetheless, I believe this is still a serve! 😎

Instagram caption:

          “My Hero Academia Fashion Week, Day 3! 😊 This look is inspired from the ultimate ship of the series, our boy Deku and hospitalization. ☺

          I know this project wouldn't be complete without our beloved hero, Izuku Midoriya so here it is! The look is based on his need to be healed after constantly using his much powerful quirk beyond his limit since he's still learning how to have full control of it. I wrapped my doll with bandages, and gave it a plunging neckline to make it look so chic. There's also a touch of sky blue in it since it's a common color used by hospital with their gowns. Then, I added the cane and shades to complete the posh just-got-home-from-the-hospital look! 😎 I didn't have a "Deku" shade of green for the hair though. Nonetheless I believe this "Billie Eilish - Grammys 2019" shade perfectly fit the look I was going for. ☺

          Deku is really that protagonist that you'll definitely root for. His character is so well written so I can't help but feel proud of him with all his heroic deeds! Indeed, anyone can reach their dreams as long as they believe, and go plus ultra! ❤ - Marv :)”

          Serving you fashionable hospital discharge fantasy! A little fashion won't hurt, baby! 🤣

Instagram caption:

          “My Hero Academia Fashion Week, Day 4! 🥳 The fashion inspiration for this look is none other than the "Alien Queen", Mina Ashido! 😊 Her quirk is the ability to secrete Acid which she skillfully uses for offense and defense! 😍 Without a doubt, she's one of the most lovely characters from the series with her fun and upbeat energy as a student and hero! 🤩

          The concept I was going for with this look is to kind of reimagine her character, and this time as a fashionable member of the League of Villains! Anyone should already be warned by the flowing Acid from her hands to her dress that she's about to make ALL FOR ONE proud even with her eyes closed. *Evil Laugh* Just kidding. 😂 Anyway, I had so much fun doing that Acid effect using candle wax! I've been meaning to use it for one of Ayala's looks for a long time now so I didn't let this opportunity pass, and I'm very happy with the outcome! 😭

          For the record, this is one of my favorite looks I've done for my doll so far. Cheers! 😭🥳 - Marv :)”

          Make way for this diva! One of my favorite looks that I've done so far. I was just so stunned by it the whole time. Even now. Speechless. 🤤

Instagram caption:

          “My Hero Academia Fashion Week, Day 5! 😊 If I were to create a look inspired by Class 1-A's incredible homeroom teacher: Shota Aizawa, I might as well do one that I know will get his approval which is none other than using his yellow sleeping bag! 😂

          This had certainly been done by many fan arts already but it didn't discourage me to not do one myself since it's indeed iconic, fun and relatable! I just had to put my own twist on it so it would fit this project I'm doing perfectly. I made it look like a fitted dress with a hoodie while still making it obvious that it's in the shape of a sleeping bag. I also styled her hair in a way that would cover half of her face to channel Aizawa's elusive nature just in case the attachment to sleeping bags isn't enough to do so. 😆 I even added a sleep mask with false eyelashes 'cause why not? HAHA. 😂

          I believe I could've done more with this look, but the clay wasn't super friendly to me at all. 😂 Regardless of that, I still think that this is a fun look, and it surely makes me squeal over how cute it is. It's so comfy that even my doll fell asleep during our photoshoot! 😂 - Marv :)”

          There was a silhouette I planned on doing with this one which is like the base of a wine glass but I don't think I achieved it. Anyway, still had fun with the clay. I'll shut up now, we wouldn't want to wake up a sleeping diva. 😆

Instagram caption:

          “My Hero Academia Fashion Week, Day 6! ☺ The hero I'm channeling today is the funny and lovable Tetsutestsu Tetsutetsu! 🤩 Simply mentioning his name makes me giggle already. 😆 I find his steel quirk very cool so I knew I had to include him in this project! 😍

          The narrative I was going for with this look is a straight guy heading to the basketball court alone with his fashionable streetwear. No one wants to join him out of intimidation from his looks. First of all, he's got an awesome luminous skin tone. He's confidently rocking a crop top which makes their fragile masculinity even more fragile, and he'd rather play using his ball with pastel blue color because he can. They simply can't catch his drip! His daily mental reminder is: "Well, you can't blame them." 🤣

          I wasn't planning to do a menswear for this project, but when I thought of the idea, I couldn't let it go! Metallic skin tone, black and white combination plus crop tops for men plus oblong shaped shades and even that pastel colored ball, they're all so thrilling together! I believe that all the colors worked well with each other, and with that I'm sooooo satisfied! ☺ - Marv :)”

          Second time doing a male look! Catch all this drip, Mama! 😎 I don't play basketball but if you give me a pastel blue ball, I might. 😅

Instagram caption:

          “My Hero Academia Fashion Week, Day 7! 🥳 For the final look of this week's fashion project, I have chosen to create one that's inspired by the current Number 2 Pro Hero, Hawks! 😊

          Obviously, I didn't stray away from the basic elements of his overall look, I just really took inspiration from each of it and tweaked some with the hooded trenchcoat with a horizontal V-cut in the middle (which isn't really obvious in the photo 😆), face shield that covers the entire face, and glittered wings! His look is just too good to be changed entirely so that left me no choice. ☺

          I'm so excited to see more from Hawks in the Anime! He wasn't really featured much in the recent season since he just got introduced, but he's definitely outstanding already with his personality, quirk and majestic wings! 👑

          I'm so happy that I got to finish my second fashion week project! It's been a fun and fulfilling week for me! I can't say this is the first and only tine I'll feature My Hero Academia because there really are a lot of inspiration I have from the series, the ones I featured this week are just some of my many favorites. For the meantime, the long wait for Season 5 continues. 😭😆😍 - Marv :)”

          Brace yourselves for the landing of my finale look! Again, I'm just in awe. Speechless. This time, I really felt fulfilled. I just finished my second fashion week project! 🥳

          By the end of it, I got this comment from a lovely fellow doll lover who's obviously a BNHA fan as well.

          There really are a lot of characters from that show, and I do plan on making more soon but getting a request like this from a fellow doll lover for the first time means so much to me as someone who's a beginner at this craft. 😭

          I'll definitely use everything I learned this week to go beyond! Plus Ultra! 🦸‍♀️🦸‍♀️🦸‍♀️

[bloodelves88]

Cosfest 2019

This post is three months late... but I went to Cosfest this year. This is my second time there. 

I downgraded my cosplay by a lot this time. I mentioned in my previous cosplay related post that I wanted to cosplay Noctis, and I did. I wore the outfit there in public (without the wig and makeup), so all I needed to carry was a bag with my wig, makeup, and jacket. Totally beats the ridiculous luggage or two backpacks that I needed to lug around the two previous times I cosplayed.

And this time, I had full vision and mobility. Yes!

It’s not all good though. This is the very first time I’m cosplaying wearing a wig and makeup, which meant that I didn’t look as good as I wanted to. It’s definitely my own fault, since I didn’t practice styling the wig at all, and the makeup I put on was really just to cover the blemishes on my face, instead of shaping my face to look more like Noctis. I didn’t even get contouring makeup.

I also just kept my glasses on, cause I didn’t want to try wearing contacts. So I became a Noctis with glasses. I think it didn’t look at good as I imagined, probably because the wig and makeup was all wrong anyway. Ah well. Surprisingly, two people wanted to take a photo with me. I think one of them saw my back only and got a shock when I turned around 😅. This is really a huge difference compared to when I was cosplaying as Reaper though. Two photo requests throughout the whole afternoon versus requests every few minutes. Want to know if you’re cosplaying well? Just see how many photo requests you get.

Anyway, I’m really not keen on showing my pictures, because I honestly think I look quite bad. So nope!

I also bought considerably more merchandise this time, but I didn’t actually spend that much. Yay for clearance sales! Five badges for $10, and another two for $4. I actually wanted just Mystic Messenger badges, but they didn’t have enough, so I just got one random one that looked nice to me. I don’t even know what series this Arata guy is from.

If you follow my Twitter, you might have seen me saying that I’m done with cosplay. Well, that’s how I felt when I came home from Cosfest. Tired and worn out, I questioned myself why I’m doing this. I said I gain nothing out of this, and it’s true. But after a day or two passed, that feeling went away. I still want to cosplay. Lol.

During Cosfest I saw quite a few Persona 5 cosplayers, and it coincided with me playing Persona 5, so they kind of stood out for me. 

So... my next cosplay I have in mind is going to be Persona 5 related. And it’s going to be the protagonist in his school uniform. It’s shocking difficult to find a picture of him with his school bag for some reason, so I’ll just take a random nice one off Google search:

He’s the guy in front. The guy behind is his... alternate look.

Very simple looking, and even has glasses. I found that whole set buyable on Taobao for approximately $60+, which is really cheap, which makes it all the more tempting. Ugh.

I typed everything above shortly after Cosfest, and it was sitting in my drafts section till today. To be honest, I don’t really feel like cosplaying anymore, so I guess that’s it then? 🤔

Ah well, when I feel like it, I’ll do it. If I don’t feel like it, then I won’t do it. Simple enough. 

[djddueces]

An Idol in Teal, Chapter 1

Hey guys. I wanted to ask you something. I wrote this years ago, and I’m only just finding it now, nostalgia hitting me, me crying like a little baby (kind of lol). If you have the time to read this, tell me what you think of it, and feedback is greatly appreciated. I am trying to be a journalist, and by writing like this, I think it will help me.  

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“Miku, we’re ready for your mic check,” yelled Luka from backstage. The pink haired beauty trotted over to the audio panel.

“Hai! One sec!” said the teal haired diva. She picked up a microphone and walked onto stage. She looked at the empty seats that would be filled up within the hour. Every time she got up on stage, she felt as if her stomach had butterflies in it. She wanted nothing more than to sing to her heart’s content to her loyal fans.

“Luka, ready when you are!” Miku yelled towards backstage. The microphone made a humming noise, indicating that Luka had heard Miku’s request. Miku took a deep breath and sighed into the microphone.

“Hey Luka, if you can hear me, isn’t this crazy? I mean we’re just two average girls who flew halfway across the world to the most famous city in the world. Actually, forget that. TO THE USA! Who would have ever thought I would be doing some kind of mini World Tour like this. It’s surreal. Also, pardon my language I’m just really happy about all of this! Thinking about my life, it’s been such a roller coaster. I’ve had my ups, my downs, my blackouts, my fights, but most importantly, I’m doing what I love. I couldn’t be happier right now.” Miku sat down on the edge of the stage and standing behind her was Luka, who sat down next to the girl with the pigtails.

“Well, you ARE Hatsune Miku you idiot. Everyone loves you. Seriously, what’s up with that? You know I joined your little “group” just so I could get more famous than you.” She sneered and tilted her head away from Miku, who just snickered in response.

“How is this my fault?” Miku giggled. “You WANTED to join me. If I remember correctly, you were all “MIKU LET ME JOIN AND DO A SONG WITH YOU I CAN PROVE IM A BETTER SINGER THAN YOU!” Man, the tears that were rolling down your face was too funny.” She continued to laugh, which just angered Luka.

“Listen you little shit, you wouldn’t be where you are today, and you owe me!” She scowled at Miku. Miku stared up at the ceiling, as if this was some magical anime moment where something sentimental was about to happen. That or a wind would come out of nowhere and over exaggerate the whole scene.

“You’re absolutely correct. I wouldn’t. Not without you, without Len and Rin, Meiko and Kaito. Even the other Vocaloids like Gumi and IA and Yukari. All of you have taught me so much….” She placed her face into her palms. Tears formed at the edge of her eyes. Thinking about all of this caused her to become emotional, and the only one she could really cry in front of besides her mother, was Luka.

“Miku, please don’t cry.” She wrapped her arms around Miku and stroked her hair.

“Everyone’s moved on with their lives. I mean, I know Gumi and IA are around for me still, and there’s the other up and coming Vocaloids, but I miss the original crew. And soon, how do I know that I you’ll still be around Luka? Everyone else left, so how do I know that you’ll still be around. Why am I even thinking about this right now? I shouldn’t be crying over the past…..” She continued to sob as Luka hugged her.

“This is the life of an idol. It’s the life YOU chose. You have to take the good with the bad, and turn it into something positive. You’re creative, you’re talented, and you’re amazingly perfect in every way Miku.” Luka blushed.

“Are you…trying to hit on me or….?” Miku wiped away her tears and glanced up at Luka, curiously. Her eyes were like kaleidoscopes. They glimmered in the stage light due to the leftover tears still engulfed in her eyes. Luka retaliated and pushed Miku away, her words and face flustered.

“Idiot, what are you saying?!?”

‘I’m saying that you’re hitting on me. Do you want to be lesbian lovers? I mean, I’m cool with that and all, and if we are, I’m glad it’s you.” Miku gave no hesitation in her answer, speaking almost as if it sounded believable.

“MIKU HATSUNE WHAT THE HELL?!”

“I dunno, just a thought.”

“Miku, you know you’re like a sister to me right?”

“Ah, friendzoned, the classic.”

Luka sighed and stood up. “Come back to me when you’ve gotten more mature.”

“NO LUKA DON’T LEAVE ME IN MY TIME OF NEED!” She pounced on Luka like a cat and clinged to her waist.”

“GET OFF OF ME! How do you go from happy, to sad, and now to excited?? You are so weird Miku it’s not even funny…..”

“Heh heh, excited.”

“OH GROW UP BITCH.” She stormed off the stage, returning to her dress up counter backstage. Miku scratched her head and yelled towards the backstage.  

“NO LUKA COME LOVE ME!” but Luka ignored her. “Seriously, I was just trying to cheer myself up.” Miku looked around once more at the empty ballroom. “I never noticed how pretty Hammerstein is. New York City itself is gorgeous, but there are also the people that give me the creeps.” Goosebumps trailed down her shoulders and a she shuddered.

“Luka is right though, I choose the idol life.” She hopped off stage and towards the back entrance of the ballroom, where hundreds of fans would rush into soon to see her perform. She peaked through the little crack in the door to see if the coast was clear to venture around. It was empty. Slowly, she pushed open the door, which creaked slightly. She walked into the hall, where her merchandise stand was still on display.

“I want a hat of me.” She took the hat out of the box behind the counter, and put it on. She proceeded to take out her phone and open the front facing camera.

“Haha, selfie time.” Just as she was about to snap the picture, a tall figure stood behind her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” said the tall figure, his voice deep and intimidating.

“Umm, selfie time?” Said Miku jokingly.

“What’s with the hat?” He pointed to Miku’s head.

“Ummmm, I’m wearing myself? You know I’m Hatsune Miku right??”

“How do I know that?”

“Wanna check my ID?” She searched for her wallet, which she couldn’t find. “Oh damn I must have left it back stage.”

“Uh huh. Come with me missy.” He snatched the hat from her head and threw it back in the box.

“IM SERIOUS! IM HATSUNE MIKU!!” She screamed, but almost immediately covered her hand with her mouth. She didn’t want the crowd outside to hear her. Who knows what would happen if they found out that Hatsune Miku was live and unguarded. The thought made her fear for her life. She loved her fans and all, but with the good also comes that bad, and she didn’t want to meet the bad.

“I’ll give you one chance to prove it. How do I know you’re REALLY Miku?” The tall figure, who was actually one of the bodyguards from the ballroom, folded his hands across his chest and sneered at her.

“Dude, seriously? Wipe that weird look off your face. It’s creeping me out.” She took out her phone again and dialed a number.

“You’re lucky I’m giving you a chance, don’t tempt me lady.” The phone started ringing and a familiar voice was on the other line.

“Hello?” said the familiar voice.

“OH GOOD LUKA! Thank you for picking up!”

“Huh? Miku? What’s going on? Where are you? Did you get yourself into trouble again?

“E GASP LUKA! Why I never! Why would you accuse me on such grounds?”

“Because I KNOW you Miku. You always wander about and do stupid things and then I come bail you out like always.” She sighed and Miku knew she was facepalming by the “smack” noise that she heard on the other line. “What do you need me to do now, Hime-sama Miku??”

“Here’s the story. So I wanted to get my mind off of what we were discussing before. I strolled around and took a look outside. I got curious about my merchandise here and took one of my own hats and baldy here caught me and is accusing me of grand larceny and I need you to come here and prove to him that I’m Hatsune Miku and not some fan with a wig before he throws me in the slammer and makes me clean bathrooms for a living, okay? Okay. Thanks hun. Love you!”

“Baldy?!” said the bodyguard. Miku chuckled nervously.

“Not happening,” said Luka.

“WAIT? EH!? WHY NOT!?” Miku went into a panic frenzy.

“Because you said we were lesbian lovers and I do not approve against some heinous accusations.” She was about to hang up, but Miku’s constant pleas were annoying Luka, and she eventually succumbed to temptation.

“FINE. Holy shit, shuddup!” Luka screamed and Miku had to pull the phone away from her ear since Luka screamed so loud she might blow her eardrum off.

“Heh heh, you’re picking up a New York accent. I think it’s sexy. Rarwl.” She bursted into laughter but there was no one on the other side of the line. Luka had hung up.

“Huh? Hey? Luka? Luuukkkkkaaaa? DON’T LEAVE ME IM TOO YOUNG TO DIE IN PRISON!” Miku got onto her knees and held out her hands. “Take me away coppa I’ve been a bad girl.” He grabbed her arm and picked her up.

“I know that voice anywhere. That’s the real Luka. And you’re the real Miku. I’m sorry for accusing you….” He bowed his head.

“It’s no worries. I just didn’t want to be cooped up in that ballroom. I mean, it’s beautiful and all, but I really want to explore New York City. I’ve been here before in 2014 when I did my first ever show here, but was confined to a very tight schedule filled with guest appearances and photo shoots and I really never got time to spend alone in the city, ya know? Man, guess I’m picking up your accents huh?”

The bodyguard handed Miku her hat back. “But don’t you have a show soon? You can’t disappoint your fans can you?”

“No, I meant after my two shows here. Sadly, I’m departing from here tomorrow morning. I can still spend one more night here. I always wanted to know what a Saturday night in New York City feels like, but since my show lets out late just like in 2014, I don’t think I’ll have time to.” She slouched her shoulders. “Man, I need a vacation.” Interested in her story, the bodyguard walked towards the ballroom doors.

“They’ll be letting people in soon. About an hour right?” He looked at his watch. It’s 12:30. VIP ticket holders are about to enter. And you’re show starts and 1:30, but you have someone else as your opening act, correct?

Miku nodded. “Yeah, Anamanaguchi, so what?”

“Well,” the bodyguard continued, “that means you won’t start until about 2:15-2:30 since your show initially starts at around 1:30. Since concerts never start on time, we’ll say around 1:45. I’d love to hear about your backstory.”

Miku was shocked. Never once has someone been curious about what her childhood was like and all the struggles it took to get here. A small smile crossed her face and she was really happy. She had so much pent up energy and she wanted to rant but no one would ever listen to her.

“But why?” Miku asked curiously.

“Honestly, to kill time,” the bodyguard said straightforwardly.

“Thanks….” Miku said sarcastically.

“Not only that, but I never get to do shows with idols like you. Most here are stuck up and crazy. But you, I can tell you’re not like that, and deep down, you’re caring and have a lot of sympathy for the ones around you. You’re different.” Miku’s smile was obvious now, and she started tearing up again.

“I haven’t heard someone talk about me like that in a long time that’s not named Luka or my mom. Thank you, er, what’s your name?” She looked around for some kind of ID, a nametag specifically, but found nothing.

“You can call me Jasper,” the bodyguard said.

“OOOH, cool name, and you already know mine,” she giggled. Jasper stood up and pointed upstairs. Come on, I know a place where we can chat quietly. Plus, your fans will be entering soon.” Miku nodded and stood up, following Jasper. They walked up the stairs, and down a long hallway, which led to another flight of stairs. Another hallway soon after led to the upper-most level of the ballroom.

“WOAH! I can see my house from here!” Miku said, jokingly. “But wait; won’t fans be coming here also soon??”

“Yes, in about a half an hour, but we’re not staying here, follow me.” At the back of the upper-most level was a small room, which looked to be some kind of mini-bar that was built into the ballroom. “Come, we can talk here.” Without hesitation, Miku continued to follow along. The room was small and comfy. In the middle was a small bar, filled with all kinds of different assortments of drinks, from kid-friendly such as Coca-Cola and Hi-C to hard liquor like Jack Daniels. Miku could sure use a drink right now.

Surrounding the back of the room were couches with coffee tables. To the inner-most part of the room near the entrance, were small dining tables, no larger than the size of a desk. Jasper directed Miku to one of the tables and sat down.

“We should be fine here. We’re out of sight. If someone comes in, they’re gonna have to look pretty hard at you to see who you are unlike if we sat at the other end of the room where we’re exposed and everyone can see easily.”

“I guess you have a point.” Miku eyed the bar, but knew she would have to wait to guzzle anything down until after her show. She didn’t want to be drunk on stage after all.

“So what do you want to know about me? My name is Hatsune Miku, I’m an idol, I sing, I dance, I do commercials. I’m basically like a puppet that can’t cut its strings loose from this industry.” She folded her hands and sat upright. “I understand I choose this lifestyle, but sometimes it can drain me, both physically and emotionally. I need a break, but I’m doing show after show after show. I’m tired man.”

Jasper looked at Miku not with sympathy, but more of curiosity. “So how goes it?”

“How goes what?” Miku said with one eyebrow up.

“How did the famous Hatsune Miku come to be? What motivated her? What got her in the clear? How did she become “Hatsune Miku?” That is your real name right?”

“YES, that IS my name,” she said sarcastically.

“Sorry, but you know how other singers like to change their names for some reason.”

“Yeah dude I know….They’re dumb. I try not to associate myself with people who are don’t even know their own identity.” Jasper let out a hardy laugh.

“For someone who seems to be so nice, you also have anger issues.” Miku kicked him from under the table and pouted.

“So you really want to know all about me? I guess this is some kind of interview, or oral biography.” Miku nodded her head and folded her arms, smiling confidently.

“Well, here goes. The life of me, the most famous idol, HATSUNE MIKU!”

[10000badframes]

On Dyeing My Hair Back to Brown

My hair is brown. It's on the dark side, with an ash-colored overtone which tinges blonde in the sun. It's my dad's hair color with my Mom's pin-straight hippie texture. I was borne white-blonde (tow-headed, as Mom called it,) and my hair darkened as I aged.

When I was sixteen, I started dyeing my hair red. My aunt Pam, whom I loved dearly, had been doing the same for fifty-odd years, and I enjoyed the romanticism of looking Irish, even though we thought we weren't at all (23andMe had other, more definitive things to say about this later.) To me it was distinctive and sexy, a Satine-in-Moulin-Rouge red, and it set me apart both in my day-to-day and as a nascent performer. I loved it when people mistook it for my real hair color, because red was Exciting and Different where brown was mundane.

It was also a pain in the butt, though. I didn't get a good coppery natural red off of the wash-out dyes, so I started a vicious cycle of permanent dyes which would go in and out of production, forcing me to switch brands every few years. The peroxide to lighten things was harsh, and as great as it would look for two or so weeks after the dye job, it would fade rapidly into a descriptionless pale tone with incongruous dark roots. Going to Ireland, I found myself taking the risky step of dyeing my hair in an Airbnb apartment because the first three tries had looked 'too fake,' and I wanted to seem like I belonged. Stylists would tsk at the state of my fried, breaking, split-ended hair and chastise me to get it professionally done in order to avoid further damage. I tried it; I had it done in a salon three times, and each time it was a) a bright, unnatural-looking red a la Mary Jane from the first Spiderman movie, and b) no less than $150 - sometimes as much as $300 - due to the length and color-layering involved.

Despite all the trouble, expense, and dubious chemistry of it all, my hair in my wedding pictures, in my family photos, in my senior portrait, in my travel albums, all of it, was red. It was how people pointed me out in a crowd. It elevated my appearance on a daily basis, determined what colors I wore. Who was I without it, really? I spent nineteen years without seeing more than half an inch of my own genetically-determined hair color at any given time.

After the Airbnb incident, I let my roots grow out for two months, and took them to the local queer-inclusive salon in my town. My stylist looked closely at them and at my brows, then layered on the matching brown. I didn't know quite what to do with the person in the mirror. She was paler, her blue eyes stood out more, she looked more like the rest of her family. She didn't look as special anymore. When I got home, I fretted to my husband about whether he was still attracted to me (o, he was.) I balked every time I caught a glimpse of myself.

The thing is, this past year, I found out that I'm frighteningly Irish, like, eighty percent or so. I don't need to dye my hair to look Irish because I am Irish, so the way I look is the way an Irish person looks. I stopped being a performer some years ago and am gaining acclaim in my new field (a field which puts less emphasis on physical appearance, thank goodness,) actual accomplishments I can point to when I start questioning my merit out of habit. Even my relationship changed; it matured, it calmed, it grew deeper and less turbulent. I used to spend a lot of time feeling like a phoenix, constantly regrowing after some new hurt. Lately, it's all loam and healing rain inside - brown soil, blue water.

I may henna it red sometime in the future if I feel like looking special for a bit, or I might get a red wig for fancy occasions. In the meantime, though, I'm exploring the discomfort of the rubber meeting the road when it comes to being authentically who I am. To be clear: I'm 100% supportive of people dyeing their hair whatever color for whatever reason, and I don't think I'm better or worse for this decision to stop than those who decide to keep going. For me, it's important to show myself that I don't need to *look* special or stand out in order to *be* special and have worth.

[ego-centrick-moved]

EGO MAYHEM THEORIES: II

THIS IS PART II. CLICK HERE FOR PART I.

OK FUCKERS LET’S FIRST COVER SOME STUFF:

Jack posted a photo to his instagram with red lights shining on his face as he wore chases shirt and marvin's mask was spotted in the back

he livestreamed some fortnight and @lisasepticsuperplier spotted marvin’s mask hanging on the whiteboard. @maggiemaemoo also noticed and pointed out when he went on a “pee break” the mask went missing. this same mask was on the whiteboard in his new “am i colorblind” video.

it’s important to note that the red lights were in every video between chapter one and the colorblind video.

RGB lights/lens flares in most thumbnails.

he wore a black shirt in every video up until today (5/9) where he switched it out for chases shirt in “try to fall asleep” and a fairly normal tee in “am i colorblind”

i don't think “am i colorblind” is important to our theories at all, i actually think for once we got a normal video? besides the mask, nothing off happens the whole video and there’s no red lights. did jack go back to sleep?

CHAPTER 4: “IT WAS ALL CONNECTED”

"you see a man in front of you. this man looks strange, not like any man you have seen before. suddenly, you realize you were looking in a mirror..."

by this point we know all of the intros are connected/parallel events having to do with jack/the egos. this intro doesn’t end with “stories untold.” it’s likely the case because in game, we learn what the characters “untold” story is- and we start to uncover jacks. 

all of his egos have a similar likeness to jack, so he could be referring to coming face to face with any of them. i think, however, this is more of a “i don’t recognize myself” statement. jack has lost his memories, he hasn’t been himself and his subconscious knows. that’s why he doesn’t recognize the man in the mirror, why it looks strange to him. mirrors have been a common theme over time regarding anti/broken!jack, and mirrors were also involved in the second video this day.

i really think jack did a good job choosing stories untold to be The Game(tm) where all this shit goes down. there’s a lot of very obvious connections you can make with jack/the ego’s stories and this game, and i enjoy it a lot. i took some notes while watching the video, it would take to long to expand on them individually so i'll just share this screenshot. it’s a lil messy:

now let’s jump to that ending. i’m still reeling from it; wig evaporated. 

i still have NO SOLID IDEA what he could’ve been referring to. does he remember everything or just some things? does he blame schneep or anti? does he remember who everyone is again? SO MANY QUESTIONS! gif credit

@fear-is-nameless pointed out he looks directly at the camera, not through it. almost as if he's talking to someone. i think he’s either talking to us, or talking to schneep/chase considering (i think) they were the ones trying to get him to wake up to begin with. 

@no-strings-puppet pulled together the whispers that you can listen to slowed here, slowed and reversed here.

@damienisverygood made a transcript of the whispers, i have a hard time hearing it so i cant rly confirm for 100% that this is accurate, but definitely worth noting.

@monochromemedic had a really interesting theory about schneeps involvement in it all, it’s definitely worth taking a peek at.

@booperdoopcr has a theory that really got me thinking as well.

i really do think someone has been “pulling the strings,” choosing what jack can remember and locking away whatever memories either a, hurt him or b, doesn’t serve their agenda. it’s hard to tell if it’s anti who’s in control of what jack knows or if it’s our doctor. 

i don’t think schneep is evil or malevolent. if he’s keeping jack from remembering it’s for jacks health or the well-being of the other egos/himself. it’s an outdated theory that anti thrives off of attention (i can’t remember but i think jack said that wasn’t quite the case) so it would make sense for henrick to lock away memories that involved anti, it would also explain why jack doesn’t remember him (considering he was corrupted last time we saw him). the thing that doesn’t quite add up with this theory is why schneep was so frazzled to see jack playing his role, when he knew jack didn’t remember him or really know what he was doing. schneep looked scared when confronting jack, he knew something was wrong. overnightwatch happened after schneep left for “vacation,” yet jack seems to forget about that too. i don’t dismiss this theory completely, it just leaves a lot of questions.

anti, however, would benefit from jack having amnesia about him. if he doesn’t know who anti is and doesn’t know there’s something fishy going on, he can’t stop it. it would make sense for anti to make jack forget schneep, considering he tried to save him. it also could’ve just been a casualty of trying to get jack to forget everything regarding the glitch demon himself. it would also make sense for schneep to be frazzled in this case when confronting jack, because he likely didn’t know who he was talking to. he recognized jack, but he didn’t know jack. if that makes any sense.

i stand strongly by my theory that memory-lacking jack is just a puppet of antis, being controlled by him without really knowing. schneep has experience with anti, he was likely afraid of the unknown possibilities that stirred around confronting an unstable, unknowing puppet!jack. i honestly believe schneep came back to try to save jack. after he confronted puppet!jack, i think he started some sort of therapy to get him to remember, and had chases help. (like a parallel to the dr. alex/mom and james in the game ya feel?)

@chronically-illustrated pointed out that all of the endings could be a bit of interpretation of what happened to jack over the years. James Ation had a hard time interpreting reality so the truth manifested in complicated and symbolic ways. the outros could’ve symbolized jack’s memories coming back to him/events that have been actively happening. 

we see jack “wake up” periodically (i think the jack that remembers is conscious, just locked away, being tortured and watching everything unfold) , leaving hints and cries for help littered here and there. they almost ALWAYS get removed though, seemingly by anti trying to get things back under control. the tags on the DDLC playthroughs that got deleted (canyouhearme, i remember what happened), the entire overnightwatch stream getting deleted (seemingly from memory as well), the random tags showing up on posts only to get deleted later (the sos in morse code). anti doesn’t want jack catching on, he deletes all signs of him he can and all of jacks cries for help while simultaneously taunting us and fucking with us (like overnightwatch as whole). thanks to @fear-is-nameless for reminding me about the tags on DDLC.

no traditional outro or intro

CHECK PLEASE

this video just seemed very off. i don’t have a lot to say about it, but i’ll let my notes sum it up:

i don’t really know what to make of it, other than it’s suspicious as all hell. the red light was in this video as well. 

he mentioned magic 6 times, made a blood/knife/threatening comment about 5 times, and got injured/burned twice. 

that mirror speech was all fine until he said “you got this- we got this.”  i just don't trust like that.

if anything, i think this just helps solidify the idea that memory vacant jack is just a puppet of antis. it might also reveal that anti’s whole plan is to become one with jack and be the foreman (host).

“papa” sounds a lot like anti in the closing scene lmao. i don’t think there’s much to read into, its just something funny. if he is a puppet i wonder if he sees anti as dad?

there IS a traditional outro/intro

TRY TO FALL ASLEEP

i hate this man. i absolutely despise him. im kidding i love him and his creativity and torture knows no bounds. this mother fuck really did this to us.

before even watching the video, i knew we were NOT in the clear, after jack seemingly “waking up” yesterday and then this video? i love hate him. 

here are my general notes on the video. i added lines to make it easier to read cos this was a Lot:

i take the notes during my first watch through so i'm sorry for the meaningless comments/reactions throughout. 

let’s break this down a lil bit. the video starts off weird. there’s no normal intro, and the red lights are there- just dim (this was brought to my attention from this post by @markired), “jack” fades in through static. 

@lizziebirb made this gif where you can see marvins mask show through the static:

then that creepy grin is back as he introduces the game. he stares directly at us as he makes his “speech” about going to sleep. when he makes the comment “when you drift off, that’s when the fun begins,” i half expected to hear anti’s laugh. bone-chilling to say the least.

the character in the game is someone who just went through an accident of some kind, and memory loss is mentioned (another parallel?). jack glosses over that, and instead focuses on brain damage. now hear me out; what if jack doesn’t want to remember? what if he wants to stay asleep because he’s afraid? i feel like due to the theme of the last game egos aside, he normally would’ve pointed it out or made a connection? i could be wrong, im just thinking out loud.

he also, out of place, brought up “why are all these people in my house” which reminded me a lot of a post he reblogged a few days ago.

he says “i don't know if i need a mask” (referring to gas masks in game) but that line stuck out to me, due to the fact two egos have masks and one of them even popped up in this video. the other ego (jbm) we haven't heard almost anything from since this all started. 

i found a lot in the TV snow. we see marvin, JJ, and a hidden message. ill link the post with all the pictures here, but i would like to highlight a few screenshots in specific.

in this one, jack’s webcam seems to glitch out when marvin pops up. i don't know if that was something that messed up in the rendering of the video, but it honestly reminds me a lot like the glitches that popped up during the antipocalypse days. with the way the color fades and there seems to be hints of color over his face. i wonder if there’s a second image there we just can’t see?

and then there was this:

i traced over the words, but that’s all i saw. i’ve seen people claim it says “you need to wake up” but i just... don’t see that. it would make sense, but i never see the end of this sentence and i very clearly see an “A” in the 3rd word, so it doesn’t say “need”. it could say “you have to flee,” considering that is the next word we see after this. if that’s the case, who is he fleeing from and why? 

it could ALSO be someone telling jack he HAS to wake up. like they’re telling him he doesn’t have a choice, he can't just keep acting like things didn’t happen and put off confronting his memories/his egos. after waking up yesterday, and then this video today, i wouldn’t be surprised if he’s deliberately trying to fall back asleep.

we also see JJ. but why? this is the only time i see him, and as far as i know jack doesn’t even reference him in this video, unlike how he referenced marvin with the abundance of magic-related comments. what’s the significance of JJ being in this video/making an appearance?

he also makes a face worth mentioning after reading the phrase “loose lips spit sekrits.” (i’m p sure it’s spelt that way because in dreams it’s common for things to be a little off, especially words. it wasn’t a typo by the developers, it was deliberate). this face goes entirely full screen and only lasts for about a second. it could be for comedic effect because he thought it was a typo, but it could also be a certain someone throwing some shade, yanno? someone's been slipping us hints, “spitting sekrits,” and another someone is probably not very thrilled about it.

he then makes a comment about “revive” due to the word being on a podium. he picks up a fuse and says, “can the doctor revive me after this” (as JJ pops up on screen) which could be a direct reference to schneep “reviving” jack- or at least his attempts to.

fear was a big theme in this video, he repeated that he “wasn’t afraid” many times even though he was very obviously afraid. i wonder who he was trying to convince he wasn’t afraid? who are we even watching in this video, and who are they trying to prove something to? he breaks the fourth wall towards the end and tells us “no fear, im repeating it so you guys remember it.” does he want us to have no fear, is it important that we aren’t afraid? or is he trying to convince us/whoever he really isn’t afraid, just cautious for our sake? 

there were about 5 mentions of magic i caught throughout this video.

no traditional outro/intro

i’ll add more as the days go on, but in another two days (if there’s still ego stuff goin on) i’ll make another one. :D if you have any theories to add lmk by tagging me, messaging them to me, or just replying here ! i’ll throw them in where/if they fit and tag you. thanks for all the positive responses on my first theory post, i hope this one is as helpful. :D

Tags (im sorry): @jacksoopticboop @jacksepticeye-protection-squad @lum1natrix @puppet-master-anti @kasper-the-ghost @septicjacks @mrcamillaa @hufflepufftrax @rogue-of-broken-time  @marielgum @markired

[signutai]

95. AS and his fantastic kiddos pls ❤️