#thus no teabag :(

[gauntletqueen]

I think if teabags started pulsating slowly after you were done with them that'd change the way we feel about tea somewhat

[randomnameless]

With most of the Church characters, the commoner / noble starting classes feel like more of an aftertought than anything. Because in addition to Alois, Seteth & Flayn both have the noble class (? why ? they clearly aren't nobles ? Did they feel like they couldn't put "commoner" on the Nabateans ???)

I think the only case of discrepancy that could have a cool / interesting explanation is Petra having the commoner base class : her status as princess is not recognised by Adrestia, as she is a political hostage ?

Mercie too is a commoner, even if she was an Adrestian noble -

But given how she ran away from her dad and her adoptive one is not a noble it'd make sense that she would have been registered as a "commoner".

For Seteth'n'Flayn, maybe it's more or less to explain that they are "special people" in the Archbishop's immediate circle, thus more or less considered and seen as "nobles" rather than commoners, but fwiw, especially in the Church, it doesn't amount to a thing.

In the rest of Fodlan though, maybe due to their perceived link to Rhea, they are treated like nobles?

5 years later, and I still can't fathom how the game(s) completely elude the background of the Nabateans and their paperthin disguise to pretend to be common and totes regular "humans".

They don't have surnames, they don't have any "made-up" backstory like being born and raised in a remote church or whatever, hell Rhea's backstory - as the Archbishop! - isn't developed at all and we had to wait for Nopes to get confirmation that she periodically fakes her death to appoint a new persona as her successor, because her title isn't hereditary...

How did this even manage to work, idk - but then their horrible dyejob was enough to convince humans that the Saints were totally not the people with green hair and pointy ears Nemesis'n'pals butchered a few decades ago.

So it's just a big "idk" and/or another proof that the devs dgaf about Nabateans because even writing this down makes me realise that if you want to get a plausible enough backstory/background/cover story for them, you either need to rework Jeralt's entire story or write Fodlan people to be extremely gullible, but with the conspiracy theories going on in the game it isn't coherent :

Manu believesthe Monastery is set between the three countries for a ReAsOn - but won't comment on Rhea's eternal youth, or how she looks like the other Archbishops, only Hanneman muses on Seteth's age while inquisitive!Sylvain is only puzzled by the resemblance between Rhea and the blonde lady from his stepmom's painting (granted, he is at war so maybe coming up with weird theories isn't on his priority list).

[nicolovespancakes]

Why does NO one ever talk about the fact that THE MASK (LIKE JIM CARREY'S) is in the ROGUES podcast???

He has a lot of DC crossovers!

He's made by Dark Horse comics.

WHEN WAYLON MEETS THE, MYSTERIOUS SAVIOR FROM THOSE POLICE MEN.

Just. Look at the transcript for a sec-

All the stuff that almost entirely proves it's The Mask is highlighted in green.

"???: Gotham’s Shady Underbelly! Are the police on someone else’s payroll? Or is there more to this story than meets the eye? More at 11!

OFFICER: Who the fuck is this guy?

???: BUT FIRST! It’s time to get… JUICY!

OFFICER2: Take him down! [Our hero smacks two guards out cold]

???: Tonight in Gotham, a group of six police officers were seen attacking a single green man. [gunshot]

???: Ooh! Make that five officers. Is this racial profiling, or a justified act? Your comment!

OFFICER3: I.. uh..

???: WRONG! [punch] BA-DA-BA-DA-DA-DA! [CHEERS] That’s three down, with one player on timeout from a little friendly fire! It’s two against one in this BATTLE ROYALE ON THE STREETS OF GOTHAM CITY! BUT WHO WILL EMERGE VICTORIOUS!?

OFFICER2: Who are you?

???: I’M THE YELLOW FELLOW WITH THE MELLOW BELLOW! HERE TO SAVE MY BELOVED CITY, WHILE LOOKING SSSSSSSSMOLDERING. Is that overdone? I CAN NEVER TELL! [takedown] OOOOH! ONE LEFT. The pinnacle moment! YOU CAN BREATHE, YOU CAN BLINK, YOU CAN CRY, BUT YOU CAN’T OUTRUN THESE BUNS, HUN! HA HA HA!!! [knocks the guard down]

OFFICER5: Please! Let me go!

???: Sure thing, spanky! Just… one more question. Earl Grey or Orange Pekoe?

OFFICER5: What?

???: BECAUSE HERE COMES THE TEABAG! [AIRHORN] [crack] Oops. Guess that’s why they call me THE NUTCRACKER. Here’s a band-aid, son. Should stop the oozing.

[Waylon grunts]

???: Oh my dear soul. It’s not easy being green, but HERE! It’s dangerous to go alone, take THIS!"

The Mask INFAMOUSLY turns green when the mask possess their person (all of the comments about being green make a lot more sense now, right?), and within the comics he regularly wears a yellow suit (See comic cover above), thus the comment about being a yellow fellow.

And the, SSSSSSSSMOLDERING comment is a callback to the movie(?) I believe.

He's also bullet proof, from what I know, so when the police shoot at him it either bounces off or goes right through him. Hence the death in that scene too-

The Mask, from his comics, is generally known as an all-over-the-place type character in the same kind of world, but it is some of the FUNNIEST and most over the top idiot revenge fantasies I've ever read. I got into the mask as a character when I was but a smaller tween. It was perfect for a rageful kid like me. The movies were my favorite things for a long time.

SO THE FACT THAT NO ONE TALKS ABOUT THE MASK BEING IN THE ROGUES! PODCAST MAKES ME THINK THAT EITHER; PEOPLE DONT KNOW, OR THEY DONT CARE.

AND EITHER OPTION IS SOMETHING I CANT LET STAND. BECAUSE THE MASK IS HILARIOUS.

@codotafterdark @voiceboss I NEED TO KNOW IF IM RIGHT.

ITS THE MASK, RIGHT? RIGHT?

IM FALLING INTO LUNACY.

[yanderesimp2000]

extreme yan Adam x fem reader chap 5/6 "look at you now completely helpless" MWBB 18+

CHAP 1

https://www.tumblr.com/yanderesimp2000/745338401920860160/extreme-yandere-adam-x-fem-reader-chap-15-start?source=share

CHAP 2

https://www.tumblr.com/yanderesimp2000/745426251094818816/extreme-yandere-adam-x-fem-listener-chap-25?source=share

CHAP 3

https://www.tumblr.com/yanderesimp2000/745572611124232192/yan-adam-x-fem-reader-chap-35-someone-else-dares?source=share

CHAP 4

https://www.tumblr.com/yanderesimp2000/745703396615520256/yandere-adam-x-fem-reader-chapter-46-this-is?source=share

My personal fav comic PLEASE READ IT, IT FLOPPED

https://www.tumblr.com/yanderesimp2000/745889674747396097/asmodeus-x-any-gender-reader?source=share

Reblogging is allowed,Please like and follow if you enjoyed and if you hated it be brutality honest don't fucking hold back

TWS,Brainwashed listener,Cruellty, Adam being the normal incel he is, threats, smut,reader has clipped wings, You having to wash Adams crusty wings , playfully Adam, Wrestling in Adams HUGE ASS BATHTUB,Sex,kinda teabagging

you woke up today in bed with Adam he was snoring his smooth tan skin pressing against your face his ruffled hair covering your eyes you didn't remember much about the last day all you remembered was you were very bad and you got punished but you don't know how then you suddenly start to here Adam stirring a little this lasted for 2 minutes before he opened his eyes looking at you and said "oh hey bitch how are ya" you weren't taken aback because this is just how your supposed to be treated right "good Adam how did you sleep" you replied adam scoffed annoyed and said "it was fucking fine okay" you were a little sad but didn't want to make him feel bad so you just took it

adam groaned again before saying "yea now make me breakfast I'm fucking starving he then seemed to remember something Oh yeah you need to wash my wings their so dirty and the need a whole bath" you were happy getting that info because you were being useful thus making him love you more then you hear him shout "babe, Make me some pancakes and they better be with bacon or your gonna be in a world of hurt" it sounded like he was joking but at this point you don't know what's a joke or teasing and what's a threat

you finish up breakfast and call him in from the living room "breakfast is ready babe" you call Adam sighed and said "just bring it to the couch we can eat their okay" you agreed knowing you couldn't say no to him he's done so much for you how could you say now You walk over with your guy's plate and you plob down next to him

you two didn't really talk much while you were eating he did do something though he was rubbing his fingers between your wings but they felt weird for some reason you think you were probably going insane but they felt strange You ruffled and derufffled them quickly and thought you were just insane When adam noticed this he said "oh sorry babes didnt tell you about what happened last night" he said In a sickeningly sweet tone "you tried to run away into the big dangerous world theirs fucking sickos that would to terrible things to you so i just..... Altered your wing structure so you cant run off anymore" something in you tried to say "no no no this isnt right" but it was quickly drowned out by "your crazy he's just trying to keep you safe why would you fight him he knows what's best obviously" and all that came down to you saying a simple "Ok" in a submissive purr you said it like it didn't even matter heaven is built for flying and now your practically immobile

Adam looked at you in a caring sweet tone You liked it when his mask was off he looked a little scary with his mask on but you would never admit it he kept gently rubbing your wings before they were clipped your wings were 105 cm before but now they were small and puny he didn't want to slice your wings of entirely because he found your wings cute now they were a measly 60 CM so their now to small to be able to pick you up off the ground. You rested against Adams shoulder as he snaps his finger and the plate disappears he turns on the TV to watch of those strange fantasy shows his arms wrap around you as you two watch making you feel safe

(DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO RIGHT AFTER THAT SO 2 HOURS TIME SKIP)

The TV clicked off and Adam said "damn that episode was good did you see that Fea totally stuck it to those orc good shit man, Oh wait yeah my wings are fucking filthy you really gotten clean them" you internally groan because cleaning wings was hard and since he couldn't reach his wings you were in charge of cleaning them

He picked you up with one hand and walked over to the bathroom the way he picked you up felt weird because his hand was right around you waist. Once you got into the bathroom he undressed and turned on the water his back turned to your so you could wash his wings.by the way Adams bathtub is huge its like the size of a mini pool. You looked at them for a little looking at where to start You bragged about keeping good condition to your wings but Adams were horrible there were clumps strung up together lots of wing dandruff, and crumbs in-between his wings "well what are you waiting for bitch you gonna clean it or just look" he mocked making you feel guilty so you quickly got a bucket of water and poured water on his wings. some thing was so cruel about it you were cleaning his healthy and fine wings while you had clipped wings some cruel fucking irony

Adams wings twitched and slapped you in the face he burst out laughing and said "fuck I'm so sorry they do that sometimes" you knew he was lying but you were okay with that he was just having a lil fun right? You then got the soap and started to scrub it against his wings rubbing your hands in-between his feathers and getting all the dirt and crumbs off Adam giggled and said. "why don't you join me in here" you didn't get a chance to respond before he grabbed you and shoved you into the water with him the Bathe was huge so their was plenty of room for you to squirm and struggle too. the water created a barrier to stop you from making any fast movements. Adam chuckled and said "your cute like this all pinned down and helpless Y'know" he was teasing you and you were a little embarrassed but didn't say anything. He then turned around and said "there there get back to work on my wings then it will be over he said as you tuned off the water so it wouldn't over flow

You finished getting his wings cleaned and they had a nice glossy tint other then the crumbs inside before the wings are pretty healthy nice strong feathers and good size you then start to leave the bath but Adam pulls you back in "where ya going were gonna have a party" He said in a flirtatious voice he was already naked you could see his hard cock as he towered over you he then did something strange he started to wrestle you you realized he was playing and fought back as hard as you could but he pinned you down "hi" he said in a cheesy voice before you managed to catch him of guard and wriggle out he then says "impressive but not good enough" and he wrestles you back onto him the water was spilling from all the movements but he didn't care he just kept aggressively snuggling with you

he then pulled you out of the water and into the sauna with him where he said "yeah were really gonna have a party now" before pinning you down and putting his swollen nut sack on your face he giggled and said "y'know how people say to suck my balls now you really are" this teasing voice only made you more and more wet he got you he then moved up and but it in your mouth and you started to suckled on them they started to swell up even more which you didn't think was even possible and you were more and more aroused. the hairy sac took up you whole mouth and tasted salty but good. You then got your other hand and started to jerk him "ughh babe fuck... "Adam moaned before a bead of precum appeared on his cock. He was closer and closer to cumming he was also putting his fingers in your pussy making you feel better and better until you both reached climax at around the same time

"UGH that was great" he moaned before cleaning his crotch up "we should do that more often he giggled before slapping your ass and saying "clean yourself up bitch" before leaving the room

[pakgirls530916]

You’re such a hater that your white decrepit faves looks like boiled split teabags p*dos huh? Haggard ole Princess Kate w the flabby a** and the “prince” who looks like a bucktooth shoe that don’t even want her? Sad.

Hi Meghan. Are you talking about yourself again? You have to wear so many fake ones (teeth), because your breath be humming. We all see your multiple personalities coming out.

I feel ya, you and your separated broke ass man are nowhere near the gorgeous "Power Couple". After all even the surrogates refused to let you keep the kids, even when you went to Nigeria.

You have NOTHING and YOU ARE NOTHING, but a Yachtie, still opening your legs to Pale, Stale men to get ahead, servicing those people, including Uncle Andy (allegedly) and you tried to bribe him and pretend you were knocked up. But he ghosted you..just like everyone else. Thus you were ragdoll handed ✋️ down to the nephew, and used the same fake story on him. 🤢🤮

You are "Persona Non Grata", wherever you go.

You have to "buy awards" whereas the "Power Couple" give out awards, can fundraise and continously have the back up of us REAL BRITS and AMERICANS, even the REAL Elites, such as Biden, went to go visit the REAL Royal, not the "Rent a Royals". You have to "beg" like the 🐕 you are to bum rìdes and make up lies and 💩; still remaining a joke, on top of that irrelevant. Briefcase #24(6), down in the totem pole; which you are very "familiar with".

Need to get back on your meds again. But I guess PA and the elites stopped your payments. That's why your husband is with the blonde and you keep flicking from man to man.

I will choose the stable "Power Couple" all day, every day cuz you ain't 💩 just a 🤡🤭🤭🤭🤣😂🤣

And lastly you are RIGHT! EVERYONE HATES YOU ROACHEL RAGLAND!! EVERYONE! Hollywierd (Kevin Costner, Gwenyth Paltrow, A listers like Cameron Diaz, even Nachos Wife) HATES YOU!! BRITS HATE YOU!! CANADIANS HATE YOU! Veterans HATE YOU!! Even your own co-workers at Suits, except for Abigail Spencer, who you pay to come out HATES YOU!

You are HATED everywhere you go! NIGERIA, even Colombia, are REJECTING Your BROKE, Lazy Grifting ASS cuz YOU ARE

[uncaaj]

Fanfic: The Cuppatronic 3000 (Wallace and Gromit)

READ NOW ON AO3!

The chimes of the old mahogany grandfather clock in the sitting room broke through the gentle clattering of my knitting needles. One bong, two bong, three bong sounded before the clock resumed its normal ticking, its brass pendulum swinging to and fro without a care. The Pavlovian response to that particular sequence of bells moistened my chops for a particular set of biscuits we bought yesterday at the shops. I set my latest project (Scarf? Jumper? Too soon to tell) down on the arm of my chair and slid all four paws upon the floor. My master was in the basement tinkering away and therefore was too far or too engrossed in his project to hear the clock chiming for the grandest of all simple British pleasures. Thus it was I who made tracks to the door in the hall with soft pawsteps upon the rug to alert him.

Once in position, I relaxed onto my haunches and threw the door open. There down the stairway was my companion, Wallace, leaning against a cylindrical device as tall as him, splicing wires together behind a rivet-bordered control panel.

I knocked on the door just as Wallace jumped backwards with a yelp. Poor boy must’ve caught a stray spark. It was par for the course with his inventing. You never knew who would hurt who first. 

He met my gaze above him and I waved. “Oh, Gromit!” he greeted. “Is it tea time already?” I nodded and gestured my head toward the kitchen. Just as I was about to pad away to begin preparation, he stopped me with a whistle. “No, no, you needn’t bother this time. I shall take it upon myself to prepare tea today.” He straightened his tie and brushed down his green knitwear vest with confidence. 

I cocked my head and gave him a skeptical raise of the brow, to which he responded with a nod.

“Now, I realize I’m not as adept a cook as you are.” That was an understatement. “And I know that in most matters culinary, you are the foremost expert.” It felt nice to be acknowledged. “However, I have a machine that will allow even me to brew the perfect cup of tea every time, and if that’s the case, just think of the time it will save you!”

I was even more suspicious now. But it was a deep-seated curiosity that drove my paws down those cold stone steps so I could behold with my own eyes the machine my master had spent the day creating.

Wallace shut the control panel and screwed it into place as I sat once more at the foot of it. The creation would likely fit into where our refrigerator currently occupied, though I’d have to stop Wallace from replacing it with this machine if he began to get ahead of himself. It was fully cylindrical apart from a dome top making it look like the pillarbox down the street. A riveted sign under the top edge of the machine read, “Wallace’s Cuppatronic 3000.” The control panel had dials labeled “Temperature,” “Milk,” “Time,” and “Sugar.” An indentation below the control panel was just big enough for a teacup to slot into, and a nozzle pointed down upon its topside, likely to dispense something or other into the vessel of choice placed inside. I walked around to see three separate clear reservoirs in a row labeled “Water,” “Milk,” and “Sugar” along with a slot labeled “Teabag.” The process and purpose of this machine was becoming clear to me.

“Shall I tell you how it works?” Wallace asked. I would indulge him. Explaining his inventions to others was his favorite part of inventing, after all. Wallace flipped a switch and the aforementioned signs lit up clear as the familiar sound of water boiling tickled my ears. “All you need to do is top up your ingredients as I’ve done, dial in your recipe, and the machine dispenses the perfect cup.” A green light came on to indicate the water was now ready to go. “Now I don’t have a recipe, nor do I know which one you use for our tea, but I’m sure a few simple samples will get us there. Care to be my assistant, lad?” Usually, I was hesitant to play test subject, but unlike the other times, this invention seemed unlikely to kidnap, brainwash, or otherwise inconvenience, so I nodded in agreement. “Righto, let’s begin. I suppose the best way to start is with all dials bang in the middle.”

Wallace turned the dials accordingly and pressed the button labeled “Start.” An unseen voice began to speak suddenly and my ears stuck straight up in surprise. “Two lumps, three tablespoons milk, two minutes.”

“I may have forgotten to mention the Cuppatronic speaks,” said Wallace. “I obtained the necessary voice synthesis chip on our outing yesterday.” So that’s where he disappeared to while I was left with the shopping. The machine whirred to life and I braced myself for a leaky hose or an unshielded wire to throw a spanner in the works as was often to happen. But as those two minutes wore on and Wallace walked over to a nearby workbench to retrieve a teacup, I wondered if for once, I was fretting over nothing. The Cuppatronic hissed as the water inside boiled and converted the loose tea inside into my favorite afternoon beverage. Wallace placed the teacup under the nozzle just as a tan liquid began to stream into it, filling the white ceramic vessel until the stream slowed to drips and a bell dinged. 

“Enjoy your tea,” said the machine in its metallic approximation of an English voice. I had half a mind to say thank you for the simple fact that it had worked perfectly. It was fantastic.

“Ha-ha!” Wallace cheered. “All according to plan!” He gingerly removed the cup from its perch and held it up to his nose. The steaming mug wrapped him and me in the familiar aroma of darjeeling comfort and he took a sip. Almost immediately, the giddy smile left him to be replaced by disappointment. He took another sip and smacked his lips together. “I say,” he declared, “I think this recipe needs adjusting.” He set the teacup down on the workbench and I took it for myself to try the concoction. The heavy amount of milk and sugar blanketed my tongue and I couldn’t hide my own displeasure. It was certainly tea, and it was good for someone, but not for us.

Wallace rubbed his chin then retrieved a clipboard and pencil. “I’ve crossed that combination off the list. That leaves 11 more combinations to test.”

My ears straightened and my eyes widened. 11?? This was to be a long afternoon.

+++

Just as I predicted, it did take a rather long time to test the flavor of every single dial combination on the Cuppatronic. Mathematically, Wallace was being kind with his estimation of 11, for as each new combination was tried, he came up with a new combination not previously accounted for. By the time we had gotten to this point in time, we each had a pile of cups and saucers next to us on the floor, some empty and stained in brown, most half-full after we both realized we couldn’t sustain finishing a cup for each test. At this point, we had refilled the sugar, and milk tanks once over and the teabags thrice over, and there was only one more adjustment to test, the last hurdle on this extremely long race.

As the machine settled to stillness, it said once more, “Enjoy your tea.” I rolled my eyes and drew my fill from the cup before handing the rest to Wallace. “Buck up, lad,” he encouraged, “we’ll have scaled the mountain after this.” Indeed, the mountain of tea would be scaled, and I would switch to coffee permanently. I took a sip of fizzy water and swished it around in my mouth before swallowing it down. I needed the clearest palate to pick up on every nuance if we were ever to put this to bed. I raised the cup to my face and looked down at the tea, the same shade of tan as all the others. As I tipped the cup and the liquid hit my tongue, all the pieces slid into place. At last, it was what I was used to. Not too milky, just sweet enough to pique the palate, but with a strong foundation of darjeeling. It was just like I was used to, just like I made it for us every day.

And yet, as I looked back up to see my master’s reaction, apparently it wasn’t quite enough.

Wallace tapped a finger repeatedly on the cup, staring into it as if an answer were floating atop that was waiting to be deciphered. I set my cup down and walked over to look inside as well. Seeing nothing but a beige abyss, I turned to Wallace, placing my hands on my hips. I wanted him to tell me what he really sought to accomplish with this machine.

“I don’t know, lad,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. “I’ve about worn out my mouth for this. The recipe is perfect. It just doesn’t taste the same. …Maybe the tea should brew at 98 degrees rather than 99.”

That was it. We would be here all night if I were to enable this a moment longer. I shook my head and took the cup from his hands. He stuttered, caught between words, clearly at his wit’s end. As if I couldn’t tell. “What do you suppose is missing, then?” Wallace griped.

It was time for me to show him what I knew all along. I took his hand and led him back upstairs and to the kitchen. I sat him down at the breakfast nook and held up one finger, instructing him to wait right there. The kettle was standing vigil upon the stove and once I made my way to it, I lifted it and sloshed the water around. There was enough for my purposes, so I set it back on a burner and turned it on to high. Next, I opened a drawer to the right of the stove and pulled out a little black book, my treasured recipes. The pages flew by in a flurry as I turned to the recipe I wanted and held it out to Wallace. 

“What’s this, Gromit?” he inquired, delicately taking the book from me. I tapped the recipe, and gave him a wink. I led the horse to the water and now he had to drink, so I returned to the stove and began doing another breed’s job, retrieving teabags and sugar from the cabinet, and milk from the fridge. This supply thankfully was kept out of the basement during our previous exploits. As I methodically performed the same actions I had done for many a teatime before, a Formula 1 pit crew for hot beverages, Wallace read the recipe to himself, as if I were cueing his actions with mine.

“Brew for two minutes and 24 seconds at 98 degrees.” The kettle began to whistle, and I lifted it off the burner before dousing the heat with the turn of a knob.

“Fill three quarters of the mug and brew for three minutes and 24 seconds.” I deposited the teabag in the cup and filled it, guided by my muscle memory.

“Once brewed, add two and a half teaspoons milk, one sugar lump. Serve immediately with biscuits and cheese.” Wallace looked up. I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms. “Gromit, what are you playing at? This is the same recipe as we just tried, to the letter! What makes this different?” I tapped the top of the page then the bottom of the page, telling him he hadn’t yet seen what I wanted him to. Rolling his eyes, he returned to reading while I turned back to finish the cup, never breaking the count of time in my mind.

“The Perfect Tea,” he mumbled, “Revision number…23?” The number sputtered from his throat like a car kicking over on a cold day. Ah, now he was starting to see. With each day and each mug, I’d notice Wallace’s reactions, such as how when he didn’t like it that day, he’d stare at the mug as if it yelled at him, and if it was especially good, his ears would perk up. And each time, I’d make a change, aiming to perfect the cup for next time. It had been years since I’d made the last change.

As I lifted the teabag out with a spoon and delicately added the milk and sugar, I knew the kicker was coming.

“Always remember, the loving touch is important. No matter how hard of a day you’ve had, whether an invention has blown a hole in the roof again, whether a killer robot or penguin or former Bake-O-Lite girl is after you, when all is quiet and normal, you are sharing tea with the most important person in your life whom you couldn’t imagine being without. So put that love and gratitude into each cup and enjoy every moment with Wallace, your master.”

I gave the cup a final stir, and took it into my hand. Wallace put the book upon the table, mouth agape. I held the cup out to him and he swallowed before taking it from me. He looked down upon it, then to me. I nodded. He lifted it to his mouth and drew a small sip. The way his eyes lit up with sparks confirmed my theory. What a machine could never ever provide, the care, attention, and devotion of a living being, had made all the difference. He wanted to save me time with the Cuppatronic but this was always time well spent.

Wallace stood up and approached me slowly. I held my hand out to ask how it tasted, though I already knew the answer. He just needed to tell me. Wallace grabbed the hand and pulled me into a hug. As we stood embraced in the kitchen, he said, “Well done, lad. It’s perfect.” That was all I needed to hear.

Though we could not communicate through the same avenues, the message always found its way to its destination. Quirky though he may be and even misguided at times, there was no other master I would rather have, and a dog’s word is worth its weight in gold.

“Thank you, Gromit,” said Wallace.

You’re welcome, old boy.

BOOM!

We tensed in each other’s arms at the sudden explosion, and resulting echoing crunch of wood and brick collapsing onto the floor. We looked at each other, thoroughly broken out of our moment of sentimentality, then I let all fours carry me toward the basement like a rocket. I flew down the stairs and skidded to a halt upon landing at the bottom. I stood up at my full height and just stared.

The understated chrome dome was gone from the machine, while a frayed hose spraying steaming water from the opening onto the floor, and sparking wires dotted the gaping cavity that remained.

While we were in the kitchen and I was enlightening Wallace, the Cuppatronic had, for lack of a better phrase, blown its top, obsoleting itself as if it knew what was happening upstairs.

Wallace’s footsteps approached behind me and I turned to see him at the top of the stairs, eyes wide and hand over his mouth. After a moment, he removed it slowly and exclaimed, “Oh, crackers!” He swallowed, no doubt searching for something to say to the debacle in front of him. Finally, he snapped his fingers. “I knew I should have used a band clamp for the hot water line instead of a spring clamp.”

Before my paw could meet my forehead, the doorbell rang. Upon opening it, a short and squat older lady in a bonnet and apron was at our doorstep, looking slightly cross. A wagon containing the top in question was in her tow.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Mulch,” Wallace greeted with a grimacing yet polite smile.

Mrs. Mulch huffed. “I have something what landed in my garden that I believe belongs to you.” She then pulled the wagon with great effort until the plastic wheels clattered against our stoop and the dent the top had taken, no doubt from its impact upon the dirt, became evident. 

All we could do was show the poor madam our teeth, graciously take what was ours off her hands and apologize profusely. Such was life with my dear master, and every moment was, like our daily teatime, time well spent.

[magnanimousmuse]

Coriolanus is so funny bc it really is a play about two men viewing each other as equals and wanting to (at least) fuck each other so bad, and because they are equals and are Roman, one of them has to be the penetrator and the one penetrated and bc of the patriarchal society they live in, if one of them is being penetrated then they are no longer equals and are viewed as lesser than.

Then the ending really is Aufidius essentially teabagging his lover he killed and thus officially dominating Coriolanus.

[zosonils]

i NEED to know what the hobbyist chao husbandry drama scene is like so badly. next sonic game please let me scroll through all 18,000 pages of a forum thread where someone innocently asks for feedback on their setup for the three year old dark-swim they're adopting this weekend and unwittingly releases a decade's worth of arguments over the ideal chao height to water depth radio and how ethical it is to train a dark chao to sleep on a diurnal schedule and if this one specific water purification product retailer is the most trustworthy in the business or personally set beloved forum member St8ionSqr's house on fire and whether offering racing chao up for adoption once they're past their physical prime for their first life cycle is a sweet win-win way to get well-trained chao who've earned their rest into loving homes or mass abandonment from money-hungry racers too impatient to just wait for reincarnation contributing to shelter overflow. i need to have unskippable dialogue with cream where she rants for 7+ minutes about how she can't BELIEVE what she saw when she was volunteering at the chao kindergarten last week of COURSE your chao is struggling to learn to fly JANET because you bought it at a premium from some NO DOUBT UNLICENSED breeder who's been so intensely concentrating the fly type for like 8 generations that now the chao are hatching with wings heavier than their bodies but oh yes i'm SURE once it grows up and evolves PRESUMABLY INTO A FLY TYPE THUS COMPOUNDING THE ISSUE it'll look VERY fancy and won't you look so much BETTER than all those peasants at the public chao garden with all their utterly genetically unremarkable chao right JANET like surely this is going on somewhere in sonic land right. surely while sonic is out teabagging the remains of the latest death egg there's some pet hygiene company getting absolutely ripped to shreds for latching onto a singular research paper that found a very slightly higher rate of skin-based allergies in monotone chao than in twotones from their modestly sized sample group as an excuse to peddle 'monotone-friendly' chao shampoo for double the price only for some dude with a basement chemistry set and twin shiny monotone yellow chao who he loves more than life itself to discover that the only difference in the supposed 'premium' product is just a dye that tints it green and, ironically, happens to be a fairly common minor allergen for chao

[strangeduckpaper]

TwiYor Prompts, part 1

@dailytwiyorprompts

Also posted on AO3: Not Months, But Moments

SHARING THE DAY

—

“How was your day, darling?”

Twilight’s side missions are piling up, Loid had the most obnoxious patient, paperwork, and Nightfall, Franky, and Yuri are getting on my nerves.

“Tiring. And yours, sweetheart?”

Paperwork, office drama, paperwork, an emergency midday assassination, Barnes scolding me for slacking off, more paperwork.

“Long. I’m just glad to be home,”

“So am I

—

ROYALTY AU

—

Yor can’t take her eyes off the court mage, with his striking blue eyes and the dark vert robes laced with golden moon patterns that match his shock of blonde hair.

But then his eyes find hers and she has to.

She shakes her head, trying to focus.

She’s Queen Melinda’s sworn sword, appointed by Desmond's spymaster himself; she can’t afford the distraction.

But throughout the night, she feels the prickle of eyes on her back. Whenever she tries to identify it, she’s only met by the mage, his back turned to her.

Thus begins another round of their game.

--

TREASURES

—

He can’t stop smiling. As much as he tries he can’t and now his cheeks are beginning to hurt.

He’d never imagined ever smiling so much so widely. A depressing thought to be sure, but one he’s glad is wrong.

Quietly, retrieves the little camera that Yor got him for ‘Loid’s’ birthday, and snaps a picture.

The click is loud in the silence of their room, but no one stirs. Not Anya, or Bond, or Yor, or the two babies bundled in her arms.

He’ll have to ask Franky if he can use his dark room, and develop a picture of his greatest treasures himself.

—

DOMESTICITY

—

The teapot begins to whistle and Yor snatches it within a second. Right on time.

It’s odd, just how familiar the motion has become to her, another facet of a well worn routine. So routine that she once successfully identified a problem with the oven when the pot didn’t go off when she expected it to.

She pours the water into three cups. Green for Loid, pink for Anya, red for her. The teabags in her and Loid’s cups begin to stain the steaming water, and she takes a spoon to Anya’s mixing in the pre-poured cocoa powder.

 She takes the tray into the living room, where Loid is half reading a newspaper, half supervising a swaying Anya as she watches Bondman, from the couch as Loid has recently been insisting. She hands her daughter the cocoa, delaying her own drink to make sure Anya doesn’t make a mess.

Loid waits for her, taking her cup and cooling it to her preferred temperature. He hands it to her when she’s finished with Anya, and takes his own. Anya slumps against her side, dead asleep.

She smiles at the cute display, blushing when she catches Loid’s lips stretch into a smile above the rim of his teacup.

It’s nothing special, really. It’s a sequence of events so mundane, so familiar, she could repeat it without thinking.

And she wishes for a lifetime of nights just like it.

—

REINCARNATION

—

“Verzeihen Sie?” those words and a tap on the shoulder pull his attention from the rows of streamers he’s found himself surveying, and he turns to find the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen looking up at him.

��Kennen wir uns?” she asks, and it takes him a few moments to respond. One to get his jaw working and another to get his brain working and remember his childhood Ostanian.

“I don’t think so,” he answers, deciding that I think I would remember someone like you was too forward.

Given how she blushes at his sedate answer, he feels as if this was the best choice.

“I’m sorry for bothering you!” she apologizes, “I just thought I knew you from somewhere,”

“I…get that,” he responds, as he finds himself sympathizing. There’s something about her that feels so familiar, something about the luster of her hair, her ruby eyes, the way she holds herself, that he just can’t put his finger on.

A forgotten childhood friend?

“Are you from around here?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“East Neilsberg, but my family never traveled to Westalis. This is my first time here, actually, a business trip. You?”

“I’m a local, actually, I just came to visit family for the holidays,” taking a leap of faith, he holds out his arm, “Would you like me to show you around? My information might not be up to date, but I can give you a highlight reel,”

“I-I would love that,” she says, taking his hand, her blush the dawn and her smile the sun, “My name is Yor, by the way, Yor Briar,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yor,” he responds, feeling his ears heat up at the feel of her hand, “I’m Loid Forger,”

For a brief moment, his mind is full of green and pink and the sound of a child’s laughter.

—

OWN HOUSE (IN THE COUNTRYSIDE)

—

The little house nestled in the little East Neilsburg hamlet is at once familiar and foreign. Edifices inside and out have been replaced with age and the tastes of interim owners, but she can still see the underlying structure, and her memories overlay it with the ghostly images of her childhood.

“Well?” her husband asks, hugging her from behind, resting his chin upon her shoulder.

“Oh Loid,” she sighs, her voice quivering with the effort not to cry, “It’s beautiful but-how?”

“I’ve kept an eye on it ever since we first visited Neilsburg,” he answers, “Recently found out that the couple who lived here were actually moving, something about getting closer to grandchildren,”

Yor sniffles, wiping away the tears escaping despite her best efforts to contain them, “So you bought it?” 

She feels Loid shrug, “We needed somewhere away from Berlint, this place opened up, it seemed like kismet,”

Yor released a teary chuckle, “I thought you didn't believe in fate?”

“I believe in advantageous coincidences, depending on the circumstance,”

She chuckles again, her laughter bleeding into that of Anya’s, their daughter currently chasing Bond throughout the yard. Their yard. In their house.

It’s a house she never thought she’d step into again, a home cast away in favour of Yuri, of Loid, of Anya.

“I love it,” she says, turning to face him, cupping his face and his burgeoning smile lines.

“I’m glad I got you your house back,”“Our house,” she corrects him, “And now our home,”

[roughentumble]

AHHH just thought about Leo volunteering to grab Darcy something to drink and when she asks for a glass of iced tea, he's very confused but eager to please and thus promptly puts a teabag in a glass of ice water.

SCREAMING. NO LEOPOLD YOU DONT UNDERSTAND!!!!

[botanikos]

To my beloved son, dear Stolas:

My son, I do hope your affairs are in proper order.

I have been informed of recent controversy with you and Marquis Andrealphus regarding his tea reserves. While we have many duties and are thus beholden to perhaps some complimentary comforts, we must all see to proper moderation in all things. I have seen the total amount your debt has amounted to, a paltry sum. It would be rather salubrious of you to not submit yourself to the judgment of the Marquis. He is royalty, and you did consume his property, all the same such a charge is rather absurd given his frequent consumption of my own teas of which I have raised not eye at of his overindulgence. I suggest rather then provide the funds yourself you allow him to have equal measure of what was taken or another less direct form of repayment. A direct sum would be to put the Marquis over you in some way and lower our prestige. Perhaps you might lend the money to Madam Stella who could give the money as a gift to her beloved brother or simply sell off a few of your servants? We can always buy new ones. We must ever pursue a line of action that does not result in any paperwork noting this event and lapse in your judgment. I will require you to journey to my castle to watch the training videos on abstinence from worldly pleasures. I understand they are not to your liking and that they are well over seven days long, but they are filled with knowledge on how to be a supreme and modest gentleman in all respects.

Your Beloved father His grace King Paimon of the Ars Goetia, head adviser to Lucifer Morningstar, chairmen of the Institute of Brilliance, and founder of the Universal Celestial Library.

When one of the servants presents him with another letter, he nearly claps with glee. Surely it was a response from Andrealphus. The hurried retreat of the imp however, has Stolas reconsidering. Ah. His father. Glowing hues scan the paper, reading over every word. His features twist, and in the privacy of his own home, he had the luxury of allowing himself to display such things. He couldn't disagree. Stolas didn't have any intention of providing him with monetary compensations, but rather, had been considering purchasing teas himself. Now he wanted to send him empty teabags and broken cups, but he wasn't quite that petty. Not yet. Would Stella ensure the funds reach her brother? Actually, he didn't doubt that nearly as much as he thought he might. The two were closer than honey in a hive. Sell off his servants?! He would not! Least of all if it meant selling them TO the Stella and Andrealphus. Stolas drops his head into his hands with a heavy sigh. He rests like this a moment before finishing the letter. Venturing to his father's castle was at the very bottom of his list of invitations he expected to receive, but considering it was now a requirement. . . . Could he reject the offer? Unlikely. And how outdated was this material to be SEVEN DAYS in length?! Feathers ruffle, talons tap in frustration against the floor. He stands, sweeping the letter into his fingers with a groan as he begins to pace. He could be proper! He was very much a gentleman! Eventually, Stolas finds himself reluctantly penning a response to his father.

To My Esteemed & Dearest Father, Lord Paimon:

My affairs are muddled as always, but never so drastically out of reach that I cannot find where they begin or end. At least in this particular inconvenience. Please forgive any inconvenience this has become as word reaches you in regards to. . . tea.

I understand the scrutiny, and your concerns both. Steep financial debts were unexpected, rest assured! Surely this is an accumulation of every visit meticulously priced into one itemized list per my most recent visit. Nevertheless, I of course, fully intended to provide some compensation. When, what, or how, was not meant to be a present or available discussion. I am not so inconsiderate that I would drink & dash every time!

Your words have reached me, and I will consider only the finest of options befitting these particular circumstances. As for my visit. . .

How soon would you expect me? I am open to considering such trainings, though personally I do not guarantee I will find them. . . suitable. I am capable despite my reputation, of being a modest gentleman. Additionally, worldly pleasures are meant to be enjoyed, are they not? I do not find myself so gluttonous that it is problematic or a hindrance. Not so consistently, at least. Regardless, as per your request, I will be in attendance.

Your Dashing Son,

Prince Stolas Ars Goetia

[legionofpotatoes]

extremely bad faith mandalorian takes, do not engage please i cannot stop hysterically laughing at this season and thus am incapable of level-headed discourse. these are just words I want to write down to see if they look as unbelievable as they sound in my head

my favorite telltale sign of the embarrassing s3 story optics is their like. genuinely hilarious ostrich-neck-in-the-sand rehash of past story arcs down to the aesthetic fucking beats. that's the shit sandwich that really gets me in this whole stank buffet. It is astonishing. Like there was genuinely nothing else they could come up with as to not upset the status quo of their fickle, marketable story limbo, and so they, and I cannot stress this part enough, ignored established character progression beats and just did them again. they just did them again. from the top, using shockingly similar payoffs, right in front of our own eyes. and I just sat there and ate it!!

din has to re-love his toxic death cult after clearly progressing away from their value systems cause he's cooler with that helmet always on. gotta keep the limbo going. his main north star, set up as his way out of said cult, gets recruited into it instead, completely defanging the possibility of interrogating the entire bedrock of trauma and insecurity that kept uncomfortably clashing with his expressions of love and humanity in the past. now they're all one big happy gel of a Cool Dude With Gun and Kid. gotta keep the limbo going.

at some point he also has to re-learn his droid prejudices to then re-unlearn them again, a couple of times even, for no discernible thematic reason other than to make him act like an ass to some type of botched working class allegories (??? the fuck is going on with droids this season in general??). gotta keep the limbo going.

grogu, meanwhile, has to re-earn a mandalorian piece of armor to re-reinforce his allegiance (and here I was thinking the rond would be a pulpy setup for some shot-dead-fake-out but how can chekov's anything exist in this mangled mess), cause mandalorian culture is a live service videogame of tiered ranks now, so the potential upgrades are conveniently endless. gotta keep the limbo going. speaking of their culture, he also, hilariously, has to then be re-adopted by din to re-reveal their paternal bond and re-dramatize their love. cause he's not a foundling anymore, see; he's an apprentice now! the words are different. that makes the emotional meaning reset also. I know this from film school. audiences have no object permanence, right? they're all fish? we're writing this show for fucking fish, right? like in the aquariums? gotta keep the limbo going.

and they just keep doing this. they will dress it all up with technicalities and loud Plot Noise but it is all emotionally the same exact shit that has already happened and it is making me feel insane. same exact payoffs for backpedaled setups that were already, for all storytelling purposes, finished and done away with. it is comical. they're telling nothing. non-stories and recursive sisyphean plotlines that reset primitive character arcs every five episodes like it's the most unmoored bermuda triangle-ass time loop in space. you cannot even really twist it into some type of harmless expression in lieu of episodic TV, or even something more campy, cause like. it does have a rapidly progressing plotline about big and overarching stuff, stuff that is holistic, linear, and goal-oriented, like retaking homeworlds and reforging their broken nation and fighting mr gideon man. it's not a weekly detective romp with B plots galore, not anymore at least. but the characters somehow start and end in the same spots they always were. like the big ole smoking fucking gun that that is.

it feels like the most clear-cut example of plot moving forward - at breakneck speed sometimes - while characters progress either backwards or just. like. sideways and then back again?? almost like dropping a teabag into an empty mug and calling it a beverage. I see the pretty taste-making ingredient sitting sadly at the bottom there, but where's the substance? what is this all for? to wank it to how cool mandalorians look when they fly? I mean they can be pretty cool, no argument there. but some of them could be cooler if they felt things deeply and that changed them, fundamentally. you know, how A-to-B storytelling does sometimes.

and I am achingly aware that I am aging out of this show's target audience, I know that. but the death by comparison within the same bloody show's adjacent seasons is just as harrowing. what happened. it just worked too good is what. a corporation responsible for telling a myth will never allow it to finish if it suddenly starts hemorrhaging this much money. grogu and din can't progress, even aesthetically, past their season 1 selves, no matter how much that same season's story was setting them up to. cause inscrutable sad dad and cute doll baby combo. we'll either throw away those story hooks or keep resetting them. keep the limbo going.

groundhog day-ass show. it's hysterical. I can't be normal about how mask-off blatant this all is now.

and to follow this up to andor of all things. really clinches it, you know. no notes. just no notes, disney. tens across the board

[cornus27florida]

Poisoned Frederick (unfocused CPC fanfic with "what-if" AU)

If want to write the fic based on this idea feel free cuz I can't due to being so unfocused and perfectionism+unfocused syndrome, just these thoughts floating in my mind and I like to let it out espc from my previous convo w/ @meritre24601

Idea: what-if Frederick that 'poisoned' to 'eternal Slumber'(but the painful version) instead?

This also feels like could goes further to the discussion with @yaminobean in Alexander's new post "Everyone seems to hate Frederick.." - what if there's timeline divergence when everyone should face the consequence of their hate or dislike to Frederick much earlier?

I've talked the what-if in my 'old Tumblr post: Curses and Cures - how close Frederick is to be 'poisoned' by the CPC

Also interesting fact that I found to be a big irony of what-ifs, is that Frederick almost cursed by CPC to be sleeping (which what happened right now to Gwendolyn, don't worry I will talk about the possible cure for sleeping potion after this intermizo) during the time he followed Gwen to CPC.

As calming tea that Monika have likely contains Chamomiles, the same herbal in sleeping pill. Imagine what-if possibly could happened in episode 84 [Intruder part 2], CPC brewing too many tea bags at once=It seems will be ends no good, and might make CPC accidentally conconts a cursed 'sleeping potion'.

Imagine If Frederick really drinks or sips that tea, thus he might won't wake up 'directly' as what CPC's planned. Imagine if Frederick not waking up at all to even makes his brothers worried, CPC panicked over their action? What if they never found out the 'peaceful meadow' or the teapot by Prez' hit totally gone wrong which make Frederick in the coma? Imagine the shatter up alliance between Pastel Kingdom and the Plaid Kingdom, this could feel like the reverse situation of Polygon (Prez) and Monochrome (Whitney) kingdom where the prince side 'get cursed' instead which might escalated things, one of it I fear the earlier war

So the CPC comes to Gwendolyn to asks something like these ; "Ermm, hello Gwen? We're really sorry.. we kinda accidentally cursed your fiance to sleep in that flower meadows and he not waking up ever since.. Could you give him 'true love's kiss' to wake him up?" -> thus enter Whitney that kinda like sudden medic support with mixed feelings towards him, but Whitney's sole goal is to saves his friend Frederick over distress of everyone (btw in this what-if scenario I hope Renee somehow already back to the CPC so not getting hit by the lightning struck, so Nell's premonition weirdly enough referred to Frederick instead)

^ basically I feel the not-heartful apology not enough if things indeed escalated to Frederick the one in the coma instead. Also this could develops to Monika feels 'betrayed' that the CPC is hypocrite by steal back from her and used her things (calming sleep teabags) to 'cursing' someone - even though the same person that she thought 'accidentally murder her'/well you guys know it's merely misunderstanding

The what-if CPC timeline that changed: the whole CPC intruder arc (idk if other arc happen with this deviation), simply because Frederick sips the "tea" that the CPC (remember the official art of Frederick like Alice in Wonderland, served tea by Prez?)

^ those official art could turns to something sinister NGL, imagine if Frederick is the Alice to mimicking Gwendolyn's official canon timeline dream of "Alice in Wonderland" dream

Tags: what-if fic, Gwendolyn/Frederick hint, Frederick aware of his mistake due to the poisoned phase which means much earlier than the canon (prob, maybe? feel free to use this HC)

Ama out to continue writing her thesis while still wanna hear you guys lovely thoughts in my break time >< waves waves

[sparkylurkdragon]

Miss Urist has been Very Naughty about sleeping on the laptop lately. She figured out how to muscle Pride Dragon and Scorch Sr. (plushies) off it.

I have thus been forced to resort to chemical warfare. She hates the smell of tea and teabags, and it seemed to work today... maybe this will help make sure I stay in the habit of actually using my tea, too.

[lampmanliveblogs]

Thanks to Them Liveblog

Hello everyone, and welcome to The Owl House, season three, episode one: Thanks to Them!

I’m a bit late to the party, as per usual, but now I’m ready. I mean, I’m probably not ready, not mentally, emotionally, or physically. But I shall do as good as I can.

Originally, I was going to make a post talking about some of my theories and predictions going into season three. I have some ideas for how it might be structured and some things that might happen.  And then I didn’t. I just want to get into the episode right now. So I’ll bring up my predictions when they become relevant.

With that out of the way… let’s get into it!

”Luz, I’m so happy I had you as a big sister.”

We begin at the end. The end of the last episode, that is, with King’s parting words right before he threw Luz through the portal into the Human Realm, the moment before the portal collapsed.

…you know, I had some hope the first screenshot I took of the first episode of the final season would be a little happier, but oh well. I suppose it’s only appropriate, beginning with something familiar to ease me in, right before they hit me with the next big thing.

This scene plays slightly differently from the original; in King’s Tide, Luz closes and opens the door a few times before she turns around. That’s pretty minor, but I’m keeping an eye out for any differences. As we saw a few times during season two, Luz has a bad habit of remembering things slightly different from how they actually played out, usually making herself seem worse in the process.

I don’t have much of substance to say here, I just wanted to include this image.

Camila must be having so many conflicting emotions right now. The relief and happiness that her daughter is finally back home again, the shock and horror at the state she and her friends are in. 

Snake daughter spotted, I repeat, we have confirmed snake daughter spotted!

And Amity’s wasting no time trying to butter up the future mother-in-law, I see. Or maybe, having just disowned her own mother, she’s looking for the next best source for motherly affection.

Gus is helping out because he’s just a nice lad like that.

(there were two tin foil swans next to the basin in the previous shot. more of Luz’ old creations Camila found perhaps?)

((future Lampman here: I was rewatching this scene and I just now realized that Amity put the teabag in the wrong way. That’s funny, although not as funny as the fact that I managed to miss that. You’d think I’d spot it, considering it’s literally right in the middle of the screen))

(((i could have sworn they had tea in the demon realm… i remember Odalia drinking tea in Escaping Expulsion. maybe they don’t have teabags and i’m just misremembering, that’s possible too. i don’t feel like checking, soooo…)))

An owl, a witch in red, and a skull with horns. It’s been like five minutes, do we really need to remind Luz of what she has lost already? Couldn’t we wait until tomorrow before reminding her that her second family is gone forever?

(i mean, we're obviously going to return to the demon realm sooner or later, but Luz doesn’t know that)

Hm… we have these figures representing Luz’ Demon Realm family on this packet of band-aids, which are usually symbols representing healing. There might be some deliberate symbolism behind that. Maybe a bit of a stretch, but… Luz is obviously ”wounded” right now, hurt after being separated from Eda & Co and the only thing that can heal that wound is somehow finding her way back to them.

On the other hand… let’s flip that around. Let’s say that Luz was ”wounded” at the beginning of the series, being somewhat of an outcast with no friends, someone who was misunderstood and considered a weirdo. When she came to the Demon Realm and met Eda, King, Hooty and all her other new friends, that wound began to heal as she was no longer a weirdo outcasts. Thus, Eda & Co. are the band-aid to that wound in Luz.

That’s nice and all, but let’s push it a step further. I’m already overanalyzing this minor, insignificant detail beyond reason, so why not go all the way?

While band-aids are symbols of healing, they can also be symbols of a more shallow type of healing. The phrase ”put a band-aid on…” can mean that a solution to a problem is ineffectual, shallow, or that it does not adequately address and fix the problem. 

So while her Demon Realm family might’ve covered up that ”wound” of Luz’, it’s not enough for it to actually heal it. Moving away a bit from the medical metaphor, I’d guess the healing process for Luz would involve a combination* of returning to her Demon Realm family, reconciling her issues with Camila, and maybe a bit of self-acceptance.

(*which is why there’s a first help case right next to the band-aids: to show that in order to heal, Luz will need more than one quick fix. See, it all makes sense!)

Kicking Philip’s ass might also help. That’ll probably easier said than done considering he doesn’t really have any hindquarters anymore, since The Collector turned him into a jar of moldy mustard.

(oh, and I just realized it says ”lighthearted design.” Harkening back to those more lighthearted days of fun adventures before all the sad stuff happened?)

((then we have the eyes in ”spooky” which obviously symbolizes how Belos/Philip, who is really spooky, was always watching them and how he was always above and ahead of them. man, i’m good at this whole ”analysis” thing))

I know I should be paying attention to the conversation between Luz & Hunter (which conveniently reminds us that Hunter is Not A Real Boy™) but I keep getting distracted by stupid things.

This bathroom, I swear. The scented candle and those lamps. The fact that the toothbrushes are inside the cabinet, but the toothpaste is lying on the basin. The single towel. The picture with the cat and the potted plant.

I was ready to move past all of that and get on with the episode, you know, maybe actually make some progress after having spent the better part of two hours writing this single post already… but then I got distracted by the fact that the pattern on the wallpaper disappeared between shots.

I will never get through this episode.

[atplblog]

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