#two posts in like 48 ish hours

[headphonegrl]

Truthfully, Jude never thought that much about love before you. He was only presented with it through romantic comedies or the literature he was forced to read in school, stories all neat and wrapped up in a bow without all the in-between moments. Though when he and love were properly acquainted he found that those were the best parts; not the sobs of declaration or the meticulously planned grand gestures, but the bits that are usually perceived as unimportant or mundane that now feel nothing but intimate.

The habit he has of trying to catch your attention from across a busy room. Sticking his tongue out and smiling ear to ear when you return the gesture, like you’re both naughty kids communicating across a classroom. Pursing his lips together as if he’s blowing a kiss and feigning rejection when you don’t follow it with the obligatory catching motion. Making himself go cross-eyed even though it gives him a headache to see you giggle discreetly into the palm of your hand.

How when he peels the skin off an orange with his fingernails and splits it in two, he always gives you the bigger half. Even though he does the opposite with everyone else, and denies all accountability when they point it out. How usually he’d fight to get the last bite of cake but now he leaves it neatly in the middle of the plate just for you. Even if it’s his favourite, even if he wants it so desperately his stomach gurgles.

All the voice notes you send where he rapidly clicks on the ‘keep’ button before it disappears forever. The comfort of having all your mini ramblings right in his pocket, like his own little podcast that makes his heart swell. He listens to your five-minute reenactment of your trip to the coffee shop as he falls asleep with his cheek squished against the pillow. On the way to training he puts his earphones in and hears you try to explain the book you just finished in one sitting.

That when you're both standing outside in the cold with your breath making clouds of condensation in front of you, he’ll without fail sacrifice his warmth for your cold hands. Lifting his arm up so you can bury them deep into his coat pockets, amongst the loose chain and crumpled up receipts. Blowing hot air onto your fingers and rubbing his palms over the back of your hands over and over like you would with two sticks to start a fire, until your bottom lips stops shivering and you break out into a smile. 

Jude doesn’t understand why everyone is wasting their time talking about proposals with a hundred red roses when getting the giggles while you brush your teeth together is right there. He believes that there should be entire film scenes dedicated to that moment when your leg knocks against his underneath the table. Entire book chapters written about what it feels like to rest his temple against the side of your shoulder. He thinks maybe then he would've thought about love a lot more, maybe even all the time. 

[theropegoat]

My partner showed me a screenshot of a post that I can’t find now about how “something something critical roles fans are passionate because you have to be to watch that much content.”

And you are right. You absolutely have to be passionate to sit through all of critical role. Critical Role is an immensely long piece of media. It’s absolutely stupidly long. You can’t be a casual viewer of critical role. Not really. You’ll just fall behind.

How long exactly are we talking, surely not that long? Like there’s some pretty long shoes out there.

Greys anatomy is often cited as a very long show and it is at 272.5 ish hours of total run time it takes a lot to get through! Not even close.

The Simpsons? To this day the longest running cartoon out there? Actually even shorter at about 247 hours.

Ok well let’s talk Anime. There’s shows like Naruto that are long and then become “new” shows that are also long. Well to watch Naruto, Naruto: Shippuden and Boruto in total you come to about 342 hours. Thats 14.5 days over two weeks of straight content.

Then there’s the known giant. One Piece. The show every me rips on for just how fucking massive it is. The one that has been pumping out season after season for nearing a quarter of a century. 420 hours and 48 minutes. seventeen and a half days of pure content. Hour after hour. We have to be getting close right?

No.

Let’s break this down.

Critical Role is long, it’s been running a long time, and there’s tons of bonus content.

Let’s talk the most conservative version of “All of Critical Role” every episode of the three seasons of critical role thus far. Gameplay only. Skipping the intro, announcements, ad reads and the middle break of every single episode.

You’re looking at a run time of 1075 hours and 22 minutes just game time. (44 Days or 6.4 Weeks)

With all those announcements, skits, fan art and ads? 1244 hours and 56 minutes (51.8 days or 7.4 weeks)

If you’re including their excellent mini series? Exandria unlimited itself adds about 58 hours. Plus there’s oneshots revisiting characters, spin offs, sponsored and non sponsored play of other TTRPG games like Undeadwood. Total of 1517 hours 56 minutes (63.2 Days, 9 weeks)

You could watch One Piece twice before finishing the most charitable version of “all” of critical role and three times in the most extensive option.

Even looking up podcasts the longest I could find of the ones I know about My Brother My Brother and Me clocks in somewhere in the vicinity of 637 hours.

Conclusion: It’s long. And there is no casual critical role fan.

[darl-ingfics]

Come Lean Your Back On Me (Pt. 1)

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie/Whumpee: S.Coups, Jeonghan, Joshua (pneumonia)

Caregiver(s): Seventeen (Woozi, DK, and Dino get highlights)

Word Count: 3,656 | Part 2

Notes: This takes place around Seventeen's third year as a group. They're still new-ish, and the pressure on the eldest members to be there for/provide an example to the younger ones is still high cause they haven't fully figured out how to be a team yet. Scenes between the three 95ers will balance out; if someone's featured more heavily here, and others' time is coming in part 2.

Title is from Seventeen's "S.O.S." Taking one out of @fairyniceyeah's playbook for a title 🩷 Finally, there's probably some medical inaccuracies, but c'est la vie. Enjoy!

It wasn’t supposed to be a problem. Until it very much was. 

It was a three day concert engagement. Nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, they’d never done three in a row before, but there had to be a first time for everything, right? And Seventeen was ready for the challenge. Ready to prove themselves yet again. Each time the bar rose higher, they rose to meet it. The sky was, is, and always would be their limit. 

But, as luck would have it, fate tried its best to ruin their plans.

A week before the concert, the three maknaes got hit with food poisoning after stopping for some ill-advised snacks at the seedy convenience store two blocks from the dorms. It had taken 48 hours for them to be even remotely human again. 48 hours of tears, puking, and dehydration, all supervised by the careful eyes of their hyungs. Particularly the 95 line. Seungcheol gave the best hugs, and also had no problem manhandling (read carrying) a member back to bed when their legs gave out. Jeonghan was in peak form managing a sick member, somehow knowing exactly what someone needed before they even knew themselves. And Joshua had a way with words, soothing the worst post-fever dream ramblings and singing them to sleep to ignore the pain for a while. 

Five days before the concert, Wonwoo broke his glasses. It was easy enough for him to get a replacement pair the next day, but the suddenness of the break had rattled him. Mostly because it had been his fault. He’d been messing around with Mingyu in the studio during practice, even after Soonyoung had told them to stop, which was big because it was SOONYOUNG, king of mess arounds, telling them to cut it out. They hadn’t listened, and when Wonwoo tripped, his glasses flew off of his face and crashed to the floor, one lens popping free and cracking on the floor. Wonwoo was, above all, embarrassed. Seungcheol had sought him out after practice, reassuring him that it was okay, and he’d have new lenses in time for their big day. Everyone deserved to mess around from time to time. 

Four days before the concert, Minghao twisted his ankle. It had been a complete accident, unavoidable, and yet Jun had appeared at Jeonghan’s door that night dragging a sobbing Minghao, begging the elder vocalist to help him convince Minghao that he hadn’t ruined everything. They’d spent two hours on Jeonghan’s bed, consoling and distracting and loving on the dancer until Minghao finally cracked a smile. His ankle wasn’t broken or torn, but it hurt like hell, and he was still limping the morning of the first show, but he felt better about the whole affair. 

The day before the concert, Seokmin and Mingyu had gotten in an argument over stolen leftovers and dirty dishes. And while that was a topic that usually only sparked a minor skirmish, it exploded into an all out yelling match with the nerves and anticipation of the concert coursing through their veins. It had set everyone on edge, only grinding to a halt when Joshua had intervened, physically standing between the two and talking them down. He’d convinced them to hear each other out, to apologize and mean it, and had the duo hugging it out before the fight could infect the rest of the members. 

In short, the week leading up to the concert was pure chaos. 

And in all the chaos, no one had noticed a detail that would prove to be of dire significance in a matter of days. 

Jeonghan himself hadn’t noticed the symptoms of an oncoming cold. He assumed his throat was dry because of the changing weather, that the headache was the result of the recent late nights taking care of his members. And because he didn’t assume that these little annoyances were caused by anything contagious, Jeonghan had, in true Jeonghan fashion, continued to share drinks and steal food from his best friends. Not to mention hanging all over them; it was rare for a day to go by without Jeonghan poking, hugging, and just generally laying all over Seungcheol and Joshua. Which was exactly how all three of them ended up sick on the day of the first show. 

But that wasn’t a problem. They’d been at this idol thing for three years; it wasn’t like a scratchy throat and the sniffles would stop them from performing. 

Besides. It couldn’t be a problem. They had the kids to worry about. 

Junhei would later comment that perhaps the group’s biggest problem that day was how well the three eldest members could hide their own suffering for the sake of the group. They had used the chaos of the day to their momentary advantage, been allowed to still perform in the cold night air of the first day, the rain of the second day, the misty chill of the third, when they would have stopped any other member from doing so. They had fueled themselves on pain killers and Dayquil, playing symptoms off on natural causes (“Yes, we’re all shivering, because we’re wet. Did you notice it’s raining?” “You’re sniffling just as much as me, ya goof. It’s cold outside!” “Yeah, I know, three days in a row has been rough on my voice. I need to build up my stamina.”). They had taken their role as the eldest to the extreme. And no one had noticed. 

Until they did. 

The day after their second concert, Jihoon had arranged a morning meeting with Seungcheol and Hoshi to review some of the tracks he wanted for the new album. The first two shows had him extra hyped for the next project. Yes, he was on a performance high, but who could blame him? His group was taking off, and Jihoon wanted, needed, to do everything in his power to keep their wings aloft. He knew Seungcheol had left for the studio before him and that Soonyoung would be meeting them a little later. 

When Jihoon pushed open the door to the studio, he expected to find Seungcheol… anywhere else than where he currently was. Maybe he would be at the soundboard, listening to some of the new tracks. Maybe he’d be on his computer, tapping away lyrics on the keys. But never could Jihoon have imagined finding his leader curled up in the fetal position on the crappy couch they’d finagled into the corner, limbs wrapped as tight around himself as they could get. 

“Cheol?”

No response. 

Jihoon raced to the couch, collapsing on his knees, shaking the leader somewhat roughly. Seungcheol came to with a gasp, eyes snapping open in fear. 

“It’s me, it’s me,” Jihoon replied, holding up his hands to sooth the crazed look in the older man’s eyes. Seungcheol sighed, relaxing instantly. Jihoon didn’t like the raspy sound when he exhaled. “You look like shit. What’s wrong with you?” From anyone else, it would’ve been unnecessary cruelty. From Jihoon, it was a testament to how seriously concerned he was. 

“Just a cold,” Seunchaol mumbled, swallowing thickly as he began to uncurl his limbs. He grimaced, the movement seemingly very unpleasant. 

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“Have you been sick?” Seungcheol shrugged. “Was it last night? The rain?”

Seungcheol shook his head. “Felt bad before that.” He coughed, clearing his throat. “Jeonghan’s fault.” 

Jihoon frowned. “Okay, but when was that?”

“Maybe… the day before the show?”

Jihoon bit his lip. He pressed the back of his hand to Seungcheol’s cheek, detecting an unusual heat. 

“I don’t think this is just a cold, hyung,” Jihoon said. His hand moved to Seungcheol’s hip, squeezing slightly to comfort him. “Maybe you should sit out…"

The leader shook his head. “I’m fine, Jihoonie.” He pushed himself to sitting, rubbing at his eyes. Jihoon’s frowned deepened as the leader coughed again. 

“When did you get here today?” the producer asked. 

“Maybe thirty minutes ago? I walked in and…” Seungcheol paused, took a breath, “and I felt kind of… I don’t know, breathless? So I sat down to take a breather for a minute and I guess I fell asleep…”

“You felt breathless after walking into the building?” Jihoon repeated. Seungcheol nodded. “Hyung, a cold wouldn’t make you feel winded after walking a few feet.”

Seungcheol waved him off. “Jihoonie, it’s fine. We can deal with it tomorrow…”

“Hyung…”

Seungcheol’s hand clasped Jihoon’s shoulder. The smile on his lips was meant to be reassuring, meant to be a resigned acknowledgment of the unfortunate situation facing them. To Jihoon, that smile just looked like a thin, flimsy mask. “We need to make it through today. I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow if I’m still not feeling my best. Promise.” 

Jihoon held his gaze defiantly, desperately wanting to argue his point. But he caved. Because Seungcheol was the oldest, and if he wanted to put himself through hell, let him. 

The third show had gone off without a hitch, much to Jihoon’s surprise. He’d kept his eyes glued to Seungcheol, sparing a few suspicious glances towards Jeonghan, remembering that the leader had blamed him for his illness. Both appeared perfectly fine on the surface, but Jihoon, as their brother, could see the cracks brewing underneath. Jeonghan was just as poorly as Seungcheol. And even though Carats would never know how much they were suffering, Jihoon couldn’t fully stomach the idea that his hyungs had subjected themselves to performing in such poor weather when they were feeling so unwell.

(Of course Jihoon would’ve tried to do the same in their position, but that was besides the point.)

The producer didn’t try to push the point after the concert, though, as their managers were doing an excellent job hurrying the members off stage, into warmer clothes, and in the vans back to the dorms. Despite the inevitable post-performance buzz, everyone was worn out and exhausted. Three concerts in a row was tough on the body, and the adrenaline crash was imminent. 

Jihoon spent the whole ride home debating whether or not to text the group minus the two eldest to tell them about Seungcheol and Jeonghan, but thought better of it. They were adults (albeit young adults,) and the leader and vice leader could deal with the consequences of their actions how they saw fit. Still… something felt off. Jihoon bit his lip and looked out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he could physically hear one of his hyungs wheezing behind him (he hadn’t fully grasped where everyone was in the van).

The group dispersed quickly when they returned to the dorms. Shower order was determined quickly and quietly, and everyone swiftly separated to the kitchen for a snack or their own rooms to wind down. They would celebrate their accomplishment later: tonight was for rest. 

Later that evening, after the shower cycle was complete and most of the members were squirreled away in their own rooms, Seokmin emerged from the comfort of his bed to shower last. He had originally drawn the second spot, but forfeited his rights to Jeonghan after some confusing but pointed hints from Jihoon. He’d then become rather engrossed in a game on his phone, and hadn’t realized the shower was free for quite a while. Sure, it was later than he’d like it to be, but at least he’d out-waited the line. The hallway was quiet, which he fully expected. 

What Seokmin didn’t expect, though, was the bathroom light to still be on. Eyebrows furrowed with curiosity, Seokmin peeked around the doorframe to find Joshua leaning heavily against the counter, nearly hyperventilating.

“HYUNG!” Seokmin raced forward, grabbing Joshua by the shoulders, turning the older man towards him and searching his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t read it,” Joshua cried, nodding towards the counter. Seokmin turned and saw their digital thermometer sitting there. 

“What? You can’t…” Seokmin peeked closer at the number on the screen. 38.6. “It’s not that high.” Seokmin turned back around to the now very clearly panicked Joshua. He cupped the older boy’s cheek in his hand, feeling the slightly abnormal warmth on his skin. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. Your body’s probably just reacting to the stress of the concert, yeah? All we need to do is cool you down a bit. No problem.”

“How high is it?” Joshua asked, tears brimming in his eyes. 

“Not that high…”

“But the number’s so low?”

Seokmin’s face fell. “Low? What… OH!” Seokmin snapped his fingers as his brain put the pieces together. Joshua was raised on Fahrenheit, not Celsius. “Hang on. I’m getting Sollie.” 

As Seokmin turned towards the hall, Joshua’s hand struck out and latched onto his sweatshirt. “Please, don’t go.” Seokmin felt his eyes prickle with tears. Joshua had never, ever shown such vulnerability around him before. Sure, he’d been sad, homesick, anxious. But there had always been a sense of restraint, as if he were holding back the ‘worst’ of his emotions, keeping them hidden from the younger members. Seeing him like this, emotionally unrestrained, made Seokmin emotional himself. 

He turned around, grasping Joshua’s hands in his and squeezing tight. “Do you want to come with me, then? Cause we need Hansol right now. You need him.” Joshua looked terribly unhappy with the prospect of moving, but nodded. Seokmin smiled reassuringly, wrapping his arm around the older vocalist’s shoulders and leading him down the hall. Seokmin could feel Joshua shaking, and silently prayed that this wasn’t anything more than a post-concert crash. He wasn’t sure his heart could handle watching his gentle, reserved older brother fall apart right now. 

*

Despite the ache in his bones and the exhaustion creeping at the edge of his thoughts, Chan couldn’t sleep. The rush of performing was partially to blame; as a dancer, Chan lived for the moments he got to perform on stage, letting his body take over and live to its fullest extent, any future soreness be damned. 

The other reason he couldn’t sleep was his useless Jeonghan-hyung. 

Their rooms shared a wall, and Chan could hear Jeonghan coughing and sniffling, groaning with frustration, tossing and turning violently in his bed. This was… unusual. Chan didn’t often hear noises from Jeonghan’s room, even when the elder was under the weather. That set off some sort of alarm in his overtired brain. 

Pushing off his own blankets, Chan made his way over to Jeonghan’s room. When he pushed open the door, the older man turned to look at him right away. 

“Channie, save yourself.” A hand was extended in his direction. “I’ve caught the plague, and I will perish before sunrise.”

Chan resisted the urge to laugh out loud. “Dramatic tonight, aren’t we?”

Jeonghan sniffled pitifully. “I’m allowed to be. I’m dying.” He coughed, a rough, barking cough. 

Chan frowned. “I know. I can hear you through the wall.” He didn’t move closer, not yet sure if Jeonghan would allow him any closer. “Can I get you anything?”

“I already took medicine about an hour ago, so I can’t have more of that,” Jeonghan replied forlornly, slumping into a new position against his pillow. “I have water…” He shrugged. “I think I just need to wallow in my misery.”

“What about a humidifier?” Chan suggested. Jeonghan cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raising in thought. “Think that might help?”

“Actually, that would fucking rock.”

Chan smiled. “Then consider it done.” The youngest member raced down the hall to the closet where they kept their humidifier, the image of Jeonghan smiling at him affectionately on repeat in his mind. 

*

Try as he might, Seokmin couldn’t sleep. After leaving Joshua with Hansol, he’d finally gotten a shower and returned to his bed. But something felt… wrong. He tossed and turned for a while, snatching a few minutes of sleep here and there, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to be somewhere else. And he knew, in his heart, exactly where he needed to be: he hadn’t been able to silence the worry in his chest since the thermometer incident.

Pushing out of bed with a huff, Seokmin padded down the hall and carefully, quietly pushed open the door to Joshua’s room.

The older vocalist was curled up in bed, seemingly asleep. Leaving the door cracked open, Seokmin crept closer. And the closer he got, he could practically hear Joshua’s teeth chattering, he was shivering so hard. Seokmin frowned as he stepped next to the bed and pressed his fingers to his friend’s forehead. His heart broke feeling the scorching heat radiating from Joshua’s skin, sweaty and clammy beneath Seokmin’s hand. Significantly higher than before. 

With a determined nod of his head, and a deep breath to calm down, Seokmin hurried from Joshua’s room straight to the kitchen. He grabbed a small bowl, filling it with lukewarm water. On his way back, he snagged a washcloth from the bathroom and a mask from the cabinet (because, if by some miracle Joshua was actually coherent, he’d be upset at Seokmin for getting too close and risk getting sick from him.) 

Joshua hadn’t moved since Seokmin had been gone. The younger man quickly soaked the cloth in the water and gently pressed it against Joshua’s forehead. Without fully waking, Joshua unconsciously tried to squirm away. 

With one hand holding the cloth still, Seokmin grabbed Joshua by the shoulder, gentle but firm. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We have to cool you down, love.” 

Joshua attempted to pull away again with a small, involuntary whine. That tiny sound, though, got caught in his throat, bubbling into the terrifying kind of cough that sounded so, so much like choking. Seokmin’s body moved on instinct, pulling his hyung’s body from horizontal to vertical, attempting to free his airways, in tandem with Joshua’s now very much awake attempts to push himself up. Once sitting, though, Joshua’s body immediately began to slump forward, unable to hold itself up. Seokmin dove forward, arms circling his hyung’s waist, one knee on the bed to stabilize him. He could feel Joshua’s muscles tensing under his hands as he coughed, struggling to expel the gunk from his lungs. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Seokmin chanted under his breath, resting his cheek against the top of Joshua’s head. “It’s okay, I’ve got you…”

Joshua finally took a deep breath, and the fit was over. Another whine escaped from him as his body completely gave out, Seokmin’s arms the only thing keeping him upright. 

“I don’ feel so good,” Joshua slurred, his eyes slipping closed as he clutched at his chest. His breaths were coming in ragged, wheezing pants. Seokmin fought the urge to squeeze him, knowing that likely wouldn’t help at all. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” Biting his lip, Seokmin looked desperately at the door, still cracked open. As if just willing someone to appear would make it happen. There was no way in hell he could leave Joshua alone right now, but he also needed help, to get Joshua help. He’d left his phone in his own room, not expecting to be gone this long. He glanced, panicked, at the nightstand, reaching quickly for Joshua’s phone. “What’s your password?”

“Huh?”

“Your phone password.”

“Our debut date.”

“Cute.” Seokmin quickly entered the passcode. He opened their group chat on Instagram, since it would indicate if anyone was online. A green circle appeared for Mingyu. Perfect. 

Seokmin texted Mingyu: Please come to Joshua’s room. Need help. 

He heard footsteps almost immediately. A very confused Mingyu pushed the door open, his eyes widening as soon as they fell on the bed. 

“I wondered why Joshua was texting in third person,” he muttered as he ran to them, kneeling next to the bed. His hands fluttered over Joshua, touching his shoulder, his cheek, anything he could reach. “What’s wrong?” His eyes flicked to Seokmin. 

“Can you grab the thermometer? Please? He’s burning up.” 

Mingyu nodded, immediately moving to follow Seokmin’s instructions. As soon as Mingyu had gone, Joshua lifted his head. 

“Who was that?” he asked, words jumbling together. 

“Mingyu. We need to check your temperature.”

“Oh…” Joshua coughed again, thankfully once twice, but still so congested and terrible that Seokmin’s chest ached in sympathy. 

Mingyue reappeared, thermometer gun in hand. With a nod to Seokmin, he pointed the instrument at Joshua’s forehead and waited for the beep. Seokmin didn’t like the way the rapper’s eyes widened. Or the way that Joshua’s breathing started sounding less raspy and more congested, each inhale almost hitching in his throat.

“39.6.”

“Fuck,” Seokmin cursed, looking at the floor as if it could help him figured out what to do. “That’s… is that hospital?” He looked searchingly at Mingyu. 

The rapper bit his lip. “I…” His moment of indecision was cut off when Joshua began coughing again, that terrible barking sound from before. He had bent forward, hands cupped over his mouth, Seokmin's arms stretching to hold onto him. The younger vocalist's eyes flew to Mingyu in pure terror. Mingyu, somehow incredibly calm, simply pushed Seokmin back and thumped his hand against Joshua's back a few times until the coughing stopped on a suspiciously wet note. Seokmin snagged a few tissues from the box on the nightstand, holding them in front of Joshua until he felt ready to move again and remove whatever awful shit his lungs had produced.

"You poor thing," Seokmin whispered, one hand scratching at the nape of Joshua's neck while the other continued to hold him up.

Joshua slumped back against Seokmin. "I can't breathe..." he rasped, eyes struggling to stay open.

“Definitely hospital." Seokmin's eyes snapped to Mingyu, who, again, looked way too calm. Good, someone had to be. "Should I wake Cheollie-hyung?” 

It was Seokmin’s turn to suck his bottom lip in thought. He finally nodded. Mingyu darted off in earnest. Seokmin pulled Joshua closer to him, despite the small moan of protest from the older man. Something was terribly wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. 

[ladyluscinia]

Izzy, Bottles, and Apologies

Izzy's arc in S2 has been a wild ride.

The S1 Izzy enjoyers are feeling vindicated as hell, many people are fully revising their opinion of him, and the people still hating him have a new criticism or off the wall theory daily. David Jenkins LOVES Izzy and is having the time of his life trying to make sure everyone else does too. They had Con O'Neill sing in drag!

And naturally I have thoughts.

This is gonna be a two part post, I think. First, as much as people are celebrating Izzy having realized his arc and come into his own - from the singing to the apparent BlackBonnet shipping - there are some threads they could pull on that might reveal more arc to come. And I am really hoping they pull them, so I'm gonna tell you why you should too!

And second, I have some minor points I dislike and concerns that this might be the end of the arc. Which would be disappointing but I think I get why, so I'm gonna discuss that too.

To start...

---

"How are you handling all this so well?"

Here's the thing about S2 Izzy - while I need to be clear his behavior is not OOC or inconsistent with S1, it is happening rather fast. I'm pretty sure that has a lot to do with out of universe reasons I'll get into later, but in-universe it stands out. Now, he's hardly the only one operating on an accelerated schedule - the timeline for this season is an insanely fast not-even-two-weeks - but Izzy's defining struggle in S1 was fear of change. That was the cause of his friction with Edward, and what made him an antagonist in the first place.

In S2 he's gone through a lot of trauma, yes, but that fear is noticeably less present than I would expect.

Izzy in 2x06 has been cleaned up from his sobbing mess phase for just over 48 hours and he faces Edward with a joke, and then that night sings a moving French serenade to the crew. The next morning he's teasing them about finally hooking up and spends the day offering both Stede and Edward relationship advice.

He's a newly realized man... shedding repression and embracing who he could be. Accepting his breakup with Edward and trying to openly support the relationship that's better for him.

It's fun!

It's also, potentially, a bit of a flag. Maybe not a red one, not yet, but... pink-ish? A bit orange?

Let's look a little closer at those frayed edges.

---

"Well, you see, I have a system..."

There's an exchange from right at the start of the Pilot episode that has echoed through the entire series so far:

"Bottle it up?" -> "No, Frenchie! No, that's the worst thing you could do!"

Not talking to other people, not addressing your traumas... that's the kind of shit that just builds and builds inside you. When the cork eventually pops, the resulting damage can be a lot. Look at the finale of S1, where all of Stede's bottled up guilt and insecurities laid waste to his relationship with Edward, and then inadvertently became the first domino in the Kraken.

S2 is quick to bring this scene back into the forefront. The first time we see the Breakup Boat crew talking in 2x01, Frenchie reveals that "Bottle it up?" wasn't just a random comment he made, but a philosophy of his:

"Ah - well, you see, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box, in my mind, and I put the things in the box, I lock the box, and then I don't open it again. Works like a charm."

Apparently, Frenchie is the only one it actually seems to be working for.

Now, the show has been drawing some interesting lines between Frenchie and Izzy. From both serving as Blackbeard's First Mate to being frequently shown as a duo - tormenting Navy guys together on Sunday's raid, Frenchie holding Izzy's hand, Frenchie leaning on Izzy's leg in the cell, Frenchie behind him raising the flag in 2x05 - it's fitting that Izzy echoes Frenchie's preferred coping method. First he frames the non-acknowledgement of harm from Edward as just... part of piracy. He's a pirate, so he's fine with it.

And then we get Izzy's little whittled shark reveal and the conversation with Lucius about his leg:

"I don't know what you're talking about. Shark did this... dangling my legs over the side of the ship. Served me right, too."

Lucius calls him out on the unhealthy behavior, and Izzy concedes his point:

"O-kay, that seems healthy. Using a bit of fiction to help cover up your trauma." -> "Yeah, well... not moving on is worse. Twatty."

And to give him credit, he's right in his advice to Lucius. Filling his sketchbook with pages and pages of Blackbeard trauma is Lucius's form of bottling it up - thinking in endless recursive circles about his tumble off the ship and everything that followed. We already know chasing revenge instead of living is bad - Jim and Spanish Jackie established it last season, and Pete just echoed them. When Izzy advises Lucius to move on, that's what Lucius does.

But what Izzy is doing with the shark? That's not the same thing at all. He's lost a leg, grazed a bullet off his own head, and was snarling drunken accusations at himself in the mirror... he's not moving on from that. He's bottling it up with a nice dose of self-blame.

Cutting the legs off the unicorn for not doing it's job right and saying "served me right" about his fictional shark? There's a real dark knot of emotions there.

(Recall, too, that Edward deflected his hurt from Stede's abandonment into a "fictional character" during his chats with Lucius, and that delayed the explosion but couldn't stop it.)

So... Izzy's definitely coping with trauma in a way the show does not advise and often circles back to. Can we see any signs in 2x06 and 2x07?

---

The Weight of Things Unsaid

At the very start of 2x06, Izzy gets the thing he spent all of 2x05 mentally bracing himself to never hear - an apology from Edward for his leg. He walks up to initiate conversation and begins talking like nothing has changed. Edward is back in his leathers. Appropriate, given that his penance onesie was nothing genuine, just "how long do I have to wear this fucking thing for?" And Izzy is ready for them not to address the obvious hurt, to just smooth over a few jabs and go back to normal... but even Edward's mumbled little "Sorry about your leg" is so significant and difficult he flees as soon as he gets it out, leaving Izzy to sit, incredulous, with the acknowledgement.

It's still almost definitely not enough.

There was so much between them in 2x01 - 2x03. The writers literally did BlackHands love confessions on both sides. An apology from Edward Teach - a man who historically does not apologize - is a huge first step but still only the first step. The real things unsaid are so much bigger than a leg.

We get something else, too... Edward commenting on Izzy's drinking.

"Jesus. Really putting that away, aren't ya?"

Izzy has had booze a lot this season. He lost a leg and pain meds aren't really an option, so not surprising, but notable. Edward, advocating for substance abuse to deal with bad feelings, calls him a lightweight in 2x01. When they are found with the dead seabird in 2x03, Izzy takes a pointed drink from his bottle, and then 2x04 he spends the entire episode completely plastered. He seemingly sobered up for 2x05 - probably to focus on sword training and his whittling project - but now the bottle is back again before Izzy disappears for several hours.

And a little liquid courage might explain his going all in for the Calypso's Birthday performance.

I do appreciate that the performance on it's face is something completely unexpected for Izzy, but when thinking about it... it does make sense.

We already know music and performance were available on Blackbeard's ship even before Stede. Edward learned to play shanties on the piano somewhere, and singing is a common and encouraged part of sailing culture. Izzy's choice of song to perform is something a lot more emotional, but this is probably not his first performance for a crew.

Makeup, too, is in fashion for men and women at this time, and OFMD has shown it as such before. Izzy has never worn fashion makeup, or tried to be beautiful, but the concept wouldn't be alien to him. Wee John's description of a dramatic party look might even have intrigued him specifically because Izzy has actually done "looks" before - of the terrifying "theatre of fear" kind. The Kraken did have his whole crew in makeup for their raids. Taking the opportunity to embody something a bit more vulnerable and try to bring joy to this crew that took care of him is meaningful as fuck.

And it's still a drag performance!

It's a good pair of moments - before and after Ned. Proof that all this isn't just coping method - that's not what I'm arguing here - and even if Izzy's still bottling up a lot of feelings he's not doing the same full pressure bomb thing as he did in S1. There's been growth!

(This is why the flags are only pink-ish / orange-ish right now.)

Episode 2x07 though... I'm not so sure he's doing good as much as pretending it's all good.

Showing up to make his joke in the morning is a fun moment. I especially enjoy Edward's little "fuck off" with no bite to it 🤣🤣🤣 Reminder they do live together on a ship, so this is likely not even close to the first morning-after that Izzy has gotten front row seats to. But, at least to me, there's also a very performative feeling about it. Izzy being very Look how normal I can be about you fucking your boyfriend, Ed - and Edward picks up on it too. That's why he turns to Stede and whispers "He's jealous" as Izzy walks away.

Izzy continues to make jokes and give advice through the day to our main couple, but he's... subdued. I think his fake chill also disguises that he and Edward aren't on the same page about what they discuss at the docks, hence his poor advice to "listen to it" when the "it" in question is Edward's immediate desire to run away from Stede and become a fisherman. They are talking again, but haven't resumed communicating.

I also think it's relevant that Izzy goes to try and support Stede after Edward dumps him, because we're still waiting for Stede to stop bottling things up. He doesn't talk about Badminton or feelings of inadequacy or even the babiest little olive branch to Edward about "hey my dad kinda sucked too." Edward's two exes are sitting in the bar corner together, thinking about all the shit they won't talk to him about until it kills all three of them. Exciting!

The pressure is building. It has to circle back to Stede in S3. I'm hoping at the same time, it circles back to Izzy, too.

Hoping we get to explore some of his anxiety, and his internalizing negative self-image and blame. At the moment, I think Izzy might have less gotten over his anxieties and more just let go of the wheel of his life entirely, and fortunately had people around to steer him in okay directions. It would be really interesting to explore that more.

(Even if I have some concerns they may not.)

---

Subtle as a Cannonball to the Face

Izzy's character arc was always going to be a long journey - not because he was somehow morally worse than everyone else, or required particularly painstaking growth, or even because there was going to be some great need to "hold him accountable" for S1. No, it was going to be a long journey from an antagonist start for the same reason I mentioned earlier: Izzy's core struggle is fear of change.

OFMD opens with two protagonists recklessly pursuing change in ways that harm themselves, their relationships, and others, and a primary onscreen antagonist resisting change in a way that harms himself, his relationships, and others. There's no easy morality here - they all fuck up. And they all require the entire show to actually figure out the correct balance of change and growth and facing the past.

"I think the three of them are on an arc together that's pretty inseparable." - David Jenkins (Source, 9 Oct 2023)

So... why is there a chance that everything I've mentioned above is going absolutely nowhere and Izzy's arc has been wrapped up with a bow in S2?

Well.

It's late March 2022, the fandom's age is still only countable in weeks, I personally haven't even watched the pilot yet, had only even heard of the show 3 days before... and one of David Jenkins first post-finale statements is telling people to pay attention to Izzy's POV and his and Edward's love story on rewatches (Source, 25 Mar 2022), and then soon after comparing Stede to a homewrecker in Edward and Izzy's toxic marriage (Source, 15 Apr 2022). Lots of links because this stuff was available to the fandom from the start.

By the first half of May 2022 (while poor Mr. Jenkins is still anxiously trying to get his series renewed for S2, since the confirmation won't come until June 1) the takes on Izzy have soured a lot. It's not a "homophobic gay" joke anymore. Now it's "Izzy is the embodiment of colonialism who enforces a racist and homophobic ideal of Blackbeard on Edward" and "pretending Izzy could be canonically gay is homophobic" and "Izzy bought Edward as a slave from the British". Harassing anons have already started on tumblr. No first hand experience with Twitter but I've heard horror stories. These takes are spreading like wildfire through the fandom, with a heavy backing of white fans accepting and spreading anything that sounds vaguely racially-conscious as something they just missed in their privilege and need to listen to POC about. Or listen to other white fans that say they've been listening to POC.

The anchor hoist in 1x09 (that was a complete directing coincidence, as the crew confirmed in late May) is being taken as incontrovertible proof that Izzy is a violent racist, and the relatively small Izzy fandom pushing back against any of these reads is being likened to toxic fangirls declaring Kylo Ren a poor widdle victim because they think violent white guys are so hot their brains fall out. This is happening loudly and in the public forums of social media.

Can you imagine being David Jenkins right then?

This is one of your favorite little guys, who you wrote a silly little homoerotic pirate jealousy arc for. He's kinda cringefail and tends to be a dick, but you cast a guy who you think embodies him with so much sympathy and genuine emotion. You're so excited to explore his direct relationship to the main couple of your series even more. Unfortunately, you and a lot of the cast and crew are also engaging maybe a bit too much in fandom spaces, which very few of you have much familiarity with navigating as creators. AND there's still renewal stress!

If I were him, I too would consider that perhaps my intended Izzy arc was a bit too nuanced and drawn out, and maybe I needed to clear up some misconceptions as soon as I got the opportunity.

Enter S2.

MAX reduced the budget for the season significantly and it shows - particularly in the whole thing having to squeeze into 8 episodes - and I wouldn't be surprised at all if worries over a S3 renewal / S3 budget impacted S2 writing as well. Character arcs got pinched, goals had to be prioritized... and from the looks of the season, "make sure everyone knows Izzy is not a homophobic villain tormenting Edward as fast as possible" came out as a big goal.

I mean they open with a dream sequence that literally mocks the idea of a heroic Stede rescuing Edward from the dastardly Izzy. It's not subtle.

And the lack of subtlety is kind of what's concerning me.

Izzy's arc is (I think) leaving enough threads that they can extend it into S3 with the reveal he's not actually fine and done developing, but they also seem to want his S2 arc to end in a place where maybe he is. Lots of giant signs pointing to him and saying "Look! Everyone likes him!" or "Look! He's also gay!" at the expense of some of his cringefail or dickish charm. My guy had anxiety he dealt with poorly in S1, and I do think they are trying to frontload or adjust the arc so he's basically (or at least seemingly) over that before the next hiatus.

The best way I've seen it described is that the show no longer trusts the audience to pick up what they are putting down, and so they feel the need to really hammer it in. Not necessarily OOC, but definitely de-emphasizing any of his rough edges that were originally just written to not be any worse than the other characters.

This is why Izzy gets shot by Edward in the very first episode for a bunch of complicated reasons that are really good character work and not super hard to discern, but then later they have Izzy point out to Stede why he got shot twice. It's all very "look into the camera and say the themes", because to some degree they are afraid everyone is going to get easily convinced Edward shot him for calling him a namby-pamby that one time.

It makes me worried they are too afraid of misinterpretation to commit to the arc they originally conceived of, even with the finish line in sight in S3.

And, again, I get it, Mr. Jenkins. In October 2022 he made a funny quip and a boner joke on a tweet about Edward's blanket fort and the hordes descended to scream victoriously about how he was cutting down the Izzy stans for their racist infantilization crimes of thinking Izzy would *checks notes* help hold up a blanket. It's a very reasonable conclusion that this fandom cannot read and needs to be spoonfed Izzy's arc.

It just sucks that a toxic section of fandom's misinterpretations appear to have undercut a strong - and, honestly, not that complicated - character arc so much that S2's BlackBonnet arc can be about fuck ups and backsliding, but Izzy needs at least the illusion of having no flaws left come hiatus time.

[celeluwhenfics]

2024 Fic Roundup

I'll consider myself tagged :)

Total Words Published at End of Year: 22,732

Fandoms: LotR

Highest Everything (kudos, hits, comments): pHORSEuasion wins everything... But if we consider only the shorts:

Hits: Don't Fret, Dear

Kudos: Perfect

Comments: Cold Hands, Warm Heart

New Things I Tried: Writing in English! Publishing what I write! I had only written for myself since I was a teen... This year I learned of the existence of AO3 and of a writing community on Tumblr. So, ALL of this is new to me!

Fic I Spent the Most Time On: pHORSEuasion. By a landslide. My draft for it is over 100k words, and add tens of thousands of extra in notes and discarded scraps. You've only seen 10k words of it yet... Phew.

Fic I Spent the Least Time On: Don't Fret, Dear. I challenged myself to write it and publish it in little less than 48 hours!

Favorite Thing I Wrote (and published in 2024): I keep changing my mind, between Don't Fret, Dear, and Spoons! I'm quite proud of what I did in both of them in terms of themes and characterization.

Favorite Things I Read: Ooof, that's hard! I read nowhere as much as I wish because of lack of time. Therefore almost all of these are short-ish works! But let's try to name a few, in no particular order, and tryyyyinggg to not repeat authors:

When the Sun Rises by @hobbitwrangler I'm just obsessed about this Théoden/Finduilas pining fic, and I WILL NOT shut up about it, I'm sorry. The poetry of the descriptions! His noble hearttt omg.

Where Now the Horse and the Rider by @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras Completely in love with the gay Rohirrim. What a lovely love story! Did I mention I loved it? Also I ugly cried through the entire last chapter. It's that good.

Growing Pains by @torchwood-99 The Rohan royal family are ranchers, the Fellowship are environmental activists and Faramir is a ballet dancer, because why not?!

Never is too long a word by @mithrandirl This adorable Éothiriel involving the whole Fellowship has me giggling and kicking my feet every time. It's so funny and so cute! Yessss!

The Tenth Date by @dilettantefeminist Incredible spicy modern AU Celrond, mouthwatering in many ways (I really want Elrond to cook breakfast for me.)

Writing Goals for 2025: I know that the year will start weird, with me being catapulted into another country in rustic conditions for two months, and handling a move on top of it, therefore I might go a little quiet after I post the second part of Cold Hands, Warm Heart and chapter 3 of pHORSEuasion in January. But!!! My two long-term goals for 2025 are to progress in the posting of pHORSEuasion, and to experiment with shorter form fics.

It looks like everyone has been tagged already... Well, Happy New Year everyone!

[obxone]

All In My Head (Part Three)

Edited-ish. ~2k words. (Post Season 3. If you haven't watched, don't read it unless you like spoilers!)

(Part One) (Part Two)

As you knock on the door of Tanneyhill, you close your eyes and replay the conversation that brought you here in the first place. You should have fought harder against the pogues and their brilliant idea to send you to face Rafe Cameron. 

“I’m telling him?!” Your eyes bulge out of your head. Anxiety punches through you, and you look at Sarah in alarm. “Why me?! He is your brother!"

“Because he will listen to you! Please do this,” she pleads. Her hands are gripping your upper arms tightly. “Rafe is not going to be okay when he finds out, and it should come from someone he cares about as much as he does Ward.”

Your mouth is dry as you try to process what she is saying. “He knows all of you. And again, you are his sister. He cares about you,” you offer weakly, knowing you are the only option out of the seven of you. “Fuck!” You groan, head falling back as you stare at the ceiling of the rental that Ward had given her before he died. “Fine! But if I’m not back in 48 hours, then you better hope I’m still alive.”

“48 hours?!” Cleo cocks her head. 

You rub your forehead. “Yeah… it’s Rafe. I’m not leaving Tanneyhill for at least a day once I tell him. He'll want every detail, and if Sarah is right, then he is not going to let me walk away since I'm the last thing he cares about."

John B shrugs. “Fair.”

You side-eye him as you grab the backpack that has your stuff jammed into it. A small part of you hopes someone will speak up, and tell you not to go, but no one does. It is you that has to do this. “See you guys soon?"

JJ’s body blocks yours from exiting the room. “Be careful, okay?”

You nod, and he slides out of the way as you swallow your fears while bracing yourself to face Rafe and deliver the news that the man he idolizes is no longer alive. 

“You’re back?” Rafe leans against the door frame. Curiosity in his gaze as you snap back to reality.

“Can I come inside?” You ask, aware that he already suspects something is amiss.

He lifts his arm higher and pushes the door wider, allowing you to slip under his arm and exhale as you cross the foyer. You step into the main house and drop your bag by the door. 

“Something to drink?” He asks while he passes you heading for the kitchen.

You follow him. Your hands are clasped around your arms as you hug yourself around the waist. “We need to talk.”

He glances at you as he pulls down a drinking glass and goes to the fridge. “About what?” He pulls out a soda can and looks at you after putting ice in the glass. “Like why you are back, but I haven’t heard from my dad…” He pops the tab on the can and begins to pour it into the glass. His steely gaze finds yours. “Rose called… looking for him.”

Worry increases inside of you. Rose… Wheezie… they do not know either. You inhale sharply and brace your hands against the marble countertop. The surface is cool under your sweaty palms. 

Rafe crosses the distance and sets the cup by your hand before his fingers weave through your hair, and he tips your head back, leading you to look at him. “Is that why you are here?”

You bite your lip before nodding your head. “Yeah.”

He leans down, his breath fanning over your face. The look in his eyes becomes something predatory. “What happened, y/n?”

You inhale, wanting to touch him. To soothe your hands over his chest and brace him for the revelation barreling in his direction. This will ruin him. He will never forgive the pogues and you. You know him. And in his opinion, the blame will belong solely on all of your shoulders. 

“He’s gone, Rafe.”

He watches you for a second. His gaze shifts over your face, trying to understand you. “I know, I put him on the plane, remember? I-it… It was safer for him to go.”

“Rafe…”

His fingers tighten around your hair before his touch vanishes completely, and he turns away from you. His shoulders tense, and his arms flex as he drags his hands over his buzzed head. He stalks to the edge of the kitchen tile before spinning, and you see the tears in his eyes. Then the shift to rage happens before you can even blink. He crosses the room in quick long strides. His fingers wrap around your throat, and he shoves you against the kitchen counter. The hard edge bites into your lower back, and you gasp sharply in surprise. 

“What happened?!” He shouts, tears rolling down his cheeks. “What did you do to him?!”

“Rafe!” Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails biting into the soft underside of his wrist, your other hand fisting his polo as he tightens his grip. “You’re hurting me!”

“You killed my dad!”

 “No!” You shake your head. “No, Rafe. Please…” You squeeze his wrist. “Please, Rafe, let me explain.” Tears collect in your eyes, and your heart breaks as he crumbles before you. A hollow rage storming in his eyes. “Please! I would never!”

“Those fucking pogues!” He roars, shaking with rage, then his touch disappears, and you crumple to the ground.

Gasping for air as you touch your neck, you realize how bad this is about to become. Your neck will likely bruise. Your heart races in your chest, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You should get out, and leave Rafe to deal with his grief before he hurts you again. But then you look at him and he is still the man you fell in love with, despite his mistakes, and he is the man you promised to come back to. 

“What happened?” He stands against the counter. His hands push harshly down on the countertop until his skin is stark white and red around his knuckles and wrist from the pressure he is forcing into the marble instead of around your neck. 

“I can go into detail when you are ready." You murmur. "But for now, you should know he did it to save Sarah." Rafe does not turn to look at you, but his shoulders tighten with your words. "There was a struggle with Singh. He followed us into the jungle, and his man threatened us after Singh died. He was going to kill Sarah. The one from the compound, and…” Your hand finds his back, but he shrugs you off, storming away but staying within hearing range. “Rafe… Your dad sacrificed himself for Sarah.”

Rafe shakes his head, pressing his fingers to his chest, while tears spill over again. “No. He wouldn’t do that. H-he wouldn’t do that!”

You frown, wiping at your own tears. “For Sarah, he would. Deep down, you know that. I know you don’t like or trust your sister, Rafe, but for Sarah… Ward would’ve done anything for her. He would have done this for you or Wheezie had it been either of you instead of Sarah. He did it. He took out Singh's man and saved Sarah."

He nods, wiping at his face before turning away from you. “All right. Then why isn’t she here telling me herself?”

“Because she’s scared of you.” 

He snorts in disbelief. 

“You did just have your hand around my neck…” You fade out as he turns to look at you. His gaze flickered to the red marks on your neck. “I’m fine, it’s fine. But there is a reason it is me and not her.”

He looks down at the floor. “You’re telling me the truth, right?”

“Yes.”

He is quiet, and you frown, wanting to wrap him in your arms and hold him together. This is not how you pictured coming back to him. 

"The guy had a gun pointed at us. He threatened to kill us all." You whisper and cross a portion of the space between you. "He was going to shoot Sarah, so Ward rushed him and was shot. They fell from a cliff."

Rafe winces and you sigh, touching his bicep. Your fingers curl around the muscled width as your forehead falls to press against his back. "I'm sorry, Rafe, but he died protecting us. If he hadn't... if Ward hadn't done what he did, none of us would be here. You would be without a father and a sister."

"And you?"

You exhale, squeezing his arm. "And me."

“Does Rose know? Wheezie?”

"No," you whisper, dragging your other hand over his shoulder and neck. “Someone needs to tell them.”

“All right,” he murmurs, wiping his cheeks. “Okay. Okay.”

“I can ask Sarah to do it if you prefer,” you whisper, continuing to try and soothe him with your touch. “I can go get that done now…”

“Stay tonight,” he says, turning to look at you. Your hands fall away from him as he digs his phone out. His gaze locked on you for a moment. “Please?”

“I’ll stay.”

He nods. “I’m going to call Rose.” He moves closer, and you brace yourself for any sudden change in his behavior. His fingers skim across your cheek. “I'm the man of the house now. I'm... in charge of our family now. I have to do this."

"Okay."

"Wait for me upstairs.”

Some of the tension leaves you even though it is not a question. “Sure.”

He steps into Ward’s office and closes the door, his eyes on you as he puts the phone to his ear until the doors close. 

You exhale and fish out your phone to send the pogues a quick message, before going upstairs as he asked. You spot his suitcase on the floor of the primary suite and sit on the edge of the bed after toeing off your shoes. You look around the unfamiliar space. Rose and Ward’s pictures still litter the room. You spy their clothing in the closet still. After pulling your knees up to your chest, you rest your chin on the top of your knee to wait for him. 

It is dark, the sun having set before the sound of Rafe on the stairs reaches your ears. You turn your head to look at him as he comes in. The weight of the world is on his shoulders. 

"Are they okay?"

He shakes his head, sniffling a little before shutting the door. You exhale, watching him with concern. He is quiet and seems to still be processing Ward's death. 

He looks at you, watching you before he tugs his t-shirt up while moving closer. You reach up and help him pull it off before throwing it near his suitcase. His mouth is on yours, and you groan, tasting expensive scotch on his tongue.

"I promised to get my shit together," he mumbles against your lips. "You know, I really wanted to."

"And you can."

A sad laugh leaves him as he drags his mouth across your jaw and down your neck. "Can I?"

"Yes," you whisper, stroking your fingertips across the back of his head. His lips press to your collarbone and shoulder. 

"Barry should still be awake..." He starts to move away from you, but you clamp your thighs around his hips and lock your arms around his neck. 

"No!" You press your forehead against his. "Please don't. Stay with me, Rafe. Use me. Use me as much as you need. Not... cocaine. Me."

He watches you before grimacing. You cup his face, brushing your lips across his. 

"I love you, Rafe. Use me."

He blows out a breath, and then you kiss him. You pour everything you felt after the plane left the tarmac into that kiss, and he groans, his body falling into yours, and your back meets the mattress.

-------

As always, feedback is welcomed, just remember to be kind. Please feel free to like, reblog, comment, or send an ask if you want. Happy Reading.

Let me know if we want this to continue and if you want to be added to a tag list.

[lazlolullaby]

Terry's birthday gift to Tim (Batman Beyond timeline x comic book ish timeline)

fandom telephone is fun! Have a scenario barely extrapolated from canon!

Tl;Dr: Terry Mcginnis VS Tim's infamous 16th birthday message. Mostly born out of a desire for the comic canon Horrible Father Batman to get yelled at.

multiverse happens. Terry Mcginnis from post his series + Return of the Joker gets thrown into close to comic canon timeline.

Since Terry can't go anywhere due to not being born yet and every minute he stays with Bruce and Alfred it gets more awkward, he bunks at Titans Tower with Tim Drake!Robin, Cassie, Bart, and Connor.

Terry introduces himself as "Elderly Batman's emotional support teenager" and "couldn't make the cut for Robin". He cooks, he chills with Young Justice, reminds them how to talk to civilians.

So cut to Tim's birthday. The infamous future message from Alfred that Batman has died due to a close allies betrayal.

Terry is the first to talk as Tim shows the team the message. "Yeah, Alfred kicked the bucket before Bruce did in my time. To be fair, Boss had a whole thirty foot rule about people getting close."

Tim could only stare numbly at the hologram.

"Hey. Yanno what?" Terry taps his fingers on Tim's shoulder. "It's your birthday. Go hang out with your friends. I'll take care of this. I'll start the investigation, make up a nice report and you can take over on Monday."

"That's too long."

"Fine. Two days. 48 hours that you don't have to deal with this. My gift to you."

"if you say so."

Terry rolls up his sleeves and gets to work. He analyzes everything about the video, breaks down the word choices, what tech was used, any recording meta data. Calls up Booster Gold and asks if there's been any "time ripples" or whatever. (The guy is a HUGE fan of Neo Batman. Who knew?) Uses Batman's codes to get access to Justice League files and says it's for a Tim project. "Would you believe that he's growing up and delegating?"

Bruce was expecting Tim. He was not expecting Terry to pop up in the Manor. He just...stares at Terry, looms down and stands in front of him. "Why are you doing this for Tim?"

Terry has seen worse stares, so he's unfazed. "No intention of stealing his work, I'm just getting it started."

Bruce 'hrmm' -ed.

That interaction stuck with Terry. And 36 hours later...Bruce is called up into the Watchtower.

Terry called the Justice League on Bruce's ass. Notably, Nightwing (who usually isn't involved with the League but Terry insisted, but then gave the guy an out after the first debrief.) The Flash, Green Arrow, Superman and Wonder Woman. The first ones specifically because they have sidekicks, and the rest of the Trio for backup.

(Terry does not miss the fact that Clark is hesitant about Connor. And that Connor's impression of his "mentor" is a little skewed. He'll confront him when he's dipped into Tim's kryptonite stash.)

(conversely, Clark can see that Terry is biologically related to Bruce. But research takes time, and it goes slower when trying to dodge both Cadmus and a paranoid Bat.)

So at the 40 hour mark, Terry sends a selfie with the Watchtower "meeting" in the background. (Clark has his arms folded like a disappointed parent. Flash is in Batman's face. Nightwing is blocking the exit.)

An hour later he sends a full report to Tim.

[etherrreal]

“creep(er) into my heart”

Pairing: kenma x gn!reader Genre: fluff, friends to lovers Summary: two gamers walk into a fancy restaurant and it goes as well as you’d think. WC: 4,220 Warnings: N/A A/N: This is part 2 of “would you be mine(craft)?” with an even cornier title. You can probably read this without reading the first, but maybe read it for context? (also, i joke that applebee’s sucks but their “bourbon street chicken and shrimp” lives rent free in my head everyday) -Luna

Dates are meant to be anxiety-inducing, whether it’s a stomach full of butterflies or ruthless tornadoes.

So, it’s an odd feeling to be so calm and collected during the days leading up to a big date, especially one with Kenma. You assume it’s because the stakes are so low, knowing that if the spark isn’t there, you’ll still see him on Minecraft, probably that same night, to help with his iron golem farming idea like nothing ever happened. 

What’s even weirder is that both of you have continued to not discuss the date at all since he asked you the weekend before. You don’t know if it’s because it’ll be awkward to break the ice of the discussion or if he’s procrastinating figuring out the plans for that night, but you both continue to play games and watch anime together during the week without even grazing the topic.

If it wasn't for the Google Calendar invite reminding you 48 hours before Saturday that your date was in fact coming up, you would still believe that him asking you out was something you happened to imagine during your post-date funk.

Thankfully, come Thursday evening, not long after you get the notification, he sends you a text letting you know that he’ll be taking you to a restaurant in the city. It’s one you’ve passed several times before, which is how you know, without having to check their Instagram tags, that it’s a semi-formal, if not fully formal, dress code and dining experience. It’s an abnormal choice for Kenma to willingly select a place where he’d have to wear anything that buttons, let alone a full suit, so you have to imagine that the place must have glowing reviews for him to settle on it.

Now all you have to do is find a whole entire formal outfit with only two days’ notice and minimal time after work to shop. No biggie.

But you manage to do it in time—although barely since you had to rally together the group chat to help—and by the time Saturday comes, you’re actually feeling a bit of nerves start to pool in your stomach as you’re getting ready for the night. Although it all dissipates when you get a series of texts from Kenma, minutes apart, realizing that he may be experiencing the same kind of jitters that you’re feeling. 

‘I dont know how to tie a fucking tie, time to cancel the date’ ‘This is harder than finishing Dark Souls’ ‘I got it, but Kuroo made fun of me and is a terrible teacher and now my feelings are hurt’

You zoom through getting ready, and with about 30-ish minutes until your 7PM reservation, the 25-minute Uber ride leaves you with just enough time to be early. And you’re given quite the shock when you step out of the car and you already see Kenma in front of the restaurant, head hung low as he scrolls through his phone. As you get closer, you notice he cleans up nicely in his smart black suit with his hair pulled back into a bun except for a few face-framing pieces. You make sure to call his name to get his attention, his head snapping up when he hears your voice.

“Wooow, look at you, Mr. Snazzy,” you comment, reaching up to straighten his tie. “I’ve never seen you so gussied up before. Must be quite the date for you to dust off your one and only suit.”

“I have a second suit,” he says defensively. “It’s gray because Kuroo says that’s a better color to wear for the daytime.”

“When did Kuroo become your fashion stylist?”

“When my publicist politely said that I looked like a scrub in all my other clothes during meetings.”

“...She never said anything about your hair, though?”

Kenma glares at you, definitely offended by the implication that his excessively grown out roots are unprofessional, to which you offer a small smile, hoping that he knows you meant it with love. 

“Let’s just go inside before I get insulted again tonight.” 

He pulls the door open for you—like the gentleman that he pretends to be—and steps up to greet the host before you can say anything.

“Hello, I have a reservation for 7PM. Kozume.”

Normally, you’d joke about him finally being able to speak to a server by himself, seeing as he still has to hype himself up sometimes before asking for extra ketchup when you’re eating out. You remember there being a time when he ordered marinara sauce with his cheesy bread from Domino’s and when it wasn’t included, he was fully prepared to leave and eat his bread dry to avoid talking to anyone. You ended up having to take the receipt up to the cashier and fixing the mistake so you didn’t have to see him somberly eating his sauceless bread.

The jokes slip your mind, however, as you take in the decor of the place. A few chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, sparkling under the low light from the sconces on the wall. Each table is decorated with a crisp white tablecloth and set with dark green trimmed plates, long-stem wine glasses, and folded cloth napkins around a simple floral centerpiece.

You’re observing the attire of the guests, feeling a bit underdressed, but also overdressed considering how effortless and chic most of the outfits are. The meals they’re eating look especially small, probably only a few bites on the giant plates. It’s a place definitely out of your comfort zone, one that you’d think would be nice to attend, but probably never would because it’s so bougie and you’d feel out of place.

Kenma’s hand on your lower back startles you out of your thoughts, and suddenly, you’re being guided toward the middle of the restaurant, a server in front of you to lead the way.

The server pulls out your chairs, providing menus and telling you that he’ll be back when you’re ready to order. Polite smiles and thanks are given as you settle in, draping your coats over the backs of your chairs and picking up the menus.

If you thought you felt out of place when you walked in, you’re definitely feeling it now. You scan the menu, trying not to look too stressed when you see the prices and can’t recognize or even read the foreign names of certain dishes, but from what you can read, nothing is sparking joy. You’re trying to get a read on Kenma, glancing up to see if he’s also having trouble picking something from the menu or if he’s confident about what to order, but his stoic face gives nothing away.

In an attempt to put out some feelers, you clear your throat before saying, “I’m not really sure what to pick. How about you? See anything you like?”

“I’m still looking, but nothing so far,” he responds, trailing off at the end as he watches a server bring some morsels of food plated on a bowl of rocks to the table next to you. It’s only then that can catch his eye and in them, you’re seeing the same feeling of bewilderment and unease from being in this setting. But it’s gone in a second, back to his normal flat expression.

But you definitely saw it, so now that you know the feeling’s mutual, you feel less bad about feeling it yourself. You let a few moments pass, with the menu held in front of your face, high enough that only your eyes peek out from over the top before you let out a suggestion.

“....You know we passed by a Domino’s on the way here, and now all I can think about are their wings.”

Kenma nearly slams the menu onto the table, eyes wide and ravenous for some food. “I want some of their cheesy bread so bad.”

“Wanna make a run for it?” You’re trying to be low-key when looking around for anyone that could be watching, gently setting the menu down and grabbing the collar of your coat, looking back to Kenma for confirmation. He’s already shoved one arm into the sleeve of his blazer and is scooting back his chair to stand, making sure to give you a nod so you know that it’s go time.

You’re not as graceful as Kenma is in your escape, nearly spilling someone’s drink while putting on your coat on the way out. You pick up your pace, ignoring Kenma’s glance and snickers. He reaches the door first, holding it open for you while you finally get your coat on. There’s a beat while you stand there before you both burst into giggles, nearly keeling over with laughter and tears in your eyes.

Finally, standing up straight after a few minutes, you gesture behind you. “Ready to go get a gourmet meal?” 

With an excited nod from Kenma, you walk side by side down the streets. You use the time to clown him for not knowing how to tie a tie, even suggesting that you’ll gift him a clip-on for future uses so he doesn’t hurt his little gamer hands trying to tie a knot. 

To which he responds with, “And I’ll light your Minecraft house on fire using my little gamer hands if you don’t shut up.”

Suddenly, you’re silent.

The Domino’s is a bit farther than it seemed while in the car, but eventually, you see the glowing blue and red symbol high up on the square building, rushing ahead to rip open the door so you can quickly usher Kenma inside and order as soon as possible.

Too much money later, you’re skipping out of Domino’s, wings and cheesy bread secured along with other impromptu boxes of goodies to take home. You’re both waiting at the corner while you pull open the Google Maps app to figure out the best place to catch a cab when you notice a spot nearby that piques your interest. 

“Did you know there’s an arcade around the corner?!” you nearly scream, shoving your phone in his face to show him Google Maps. 

“No, I didn’t know that,” he says, moving your phone at least a few inches away from his face. “Want to go there?”

“Won’t our food get cold though?”

“That’s what microwaves are for. Duh,” he jokes, grabbing your hand to guide you down the block to the illuminated storefront. You run in like children, making a beeline to the token machine. You begin reaching for your wallet when Kenma lets go of your hand, shoving your wallet away and aggressively pulling out money from his own.

You stare down at your palm in the meantime, feeling little tingles spread throughout it, flexing your fingers and no doubt looking like a weirdo.

Kenma has done his fair share of dragging you away from places, usually when you're glued to the glass window of a store that has anime knick-knacks you want but have absolutely no damn space for, but usually he just grabs your elbow or wrist. You could be overthinking it, but he must've grabbed your hand on purpose. Or you're just that desperate for physical affection. 

He shoves a handful of tokens into your open palm, putting his own into his pockets. The arcade suddenly feels so overwhelming, with lights and noises all around you. Should you try the crane games first? Or maybe some skee-ball? You could probably dominate him in that…

“Want to start with some air hockey?” Kenma suggests, pointing over to a free table in the corner. 

Yes. Air hockey. An easy win start. “Oh hell yeah, let’s do that.”

You shouldn’t have been so confident. It’s not turning out in your favor, not in the slightest, and you should’ve guessed that, going up against a guy who was the brain of his volleyball team. In your defense, you did win the first game, rubbing it in Kenma’s face and doing a dance like a sore winner. Then he absolutely demolished you for the next three rounds and had the gall to be humble about it like he didn’t just embarrass you in front of the many elementary school kids around you.

You would’ve kept going, being stubborn as hell and telling Kenma, “Best 5 out of 6?” until you got into double digits. But suddenly he has to “go use the bathroom,” which sounds like an excuse to you.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go too far,” he warns you.

And, to be fair, you don’t go too far. You only walk about twenty feet away to the anime crane game that’s hiding behind a row of other crane games that would be blocking Kenma’s view to you if he comes back the same way he left. He has a phone that he could use to text you if he really can’t find you. 

It’ll be fiiiine, you think as you slide in a token and get ready to win the anime figure. 

The time passes quickly, not that you notice it. All you know is that you’ve gone through maybe half of your tokens while trying to get the figure to fall between the two bars, only asking the staff to help you reposition once because you managed to mess it up that bad. 

It’s funny to think that you were more worried about sticking out like a sore thumb at the fancy restaurant than you are now at the arcade, surrounded by people of all ages in sneakers and jeans while you stand there at the claw machine in dress clothes with your nose nearly against the glass. Maybe they’ll think you’re an important business person coming by to decompress after a very long, busy day at work. 

Then you squawk when you finally score the prize after only several more dollars worth of coins, and the facade promptly sails out the window.

It’s only after you have the box in your arms that you decide to check the time, realizing you’ve spent at least ten minutes straight playing. What’s weirder is that Kenma still hasn’t returned yet, and you have no messages or missed calls from him asking where you’re at, which means he's either still in the bathroom–and if that’s the case, you’re deeply worried for his bowels–or he got distracted on his way back from it. 

You’re almost at the bathrooms when you see Kenma walking towards you from the corner of your eye, definitely not coming from the bathroom as you’d expect. 

“Where were you? I thought you said you had to go to the bathroom.” You notice he’s holding an overstuffed plastic bag. “What did you get? When the hell did you even have time? Or are you just that lucky?”

“Oh. This is, uh..” Suddenly, he’s sheepish, opening the plastic bag where you can see something fuzzy and pink in it. “I didn’t actually need to go to the bathroom. I saw a Kirby plush in a crane machine when we walked in and knew I had to get it for you.” 

Before you could even say anything, he’s pulling out the plush and you notice it’s not just a regular Kirby, but one with a chef hat and pan. You make grabby hands at it until he hands it over, trying to hold it just with one hand and squishing it against your chest and face. 

“I love him so much! Thank you, Kenma.” 

Like a lot of things tonight, it’s different from your normal friendly interactions. Instead of your usual hugs where you go in at a diagonal or the lazier times when it’s just a side hug, your arms are now wrapped around his neck with his around your waist. It feels weird. A good weird. Like you’re feeling the subtle change from friendship to something a little more. It’s hard not to get your hopes up because although you’ve told yourself that you’ll be good with being ‘just friends,’ throughout the night, you find yourself quite hopeful for the chance to explore something romantic with Kenma. 

You part slowly, him shoving Kirby back into the bag and insisting on holding it for you after you reach for it, which you suppose you could allow since he’s been such a gentleman tonight. 

“Great minds think alike because I got you a gift, too,” you announce, handing over the box you worked so hard for. “I don’t remember her name, but I know you have a few that look like her in your room, so what’s one more to add to your waifu collection.”

“Thanks for the gift, and also, for saying that so loud. I’m sure the whole arcade liked hearing about how much of a weeb I am.” He gives you a smile, somehow managing to stuff the box into the already full bag. “Want to spend the rest of our tokens then head to mine? I only have a few more.”

You pull your sad six out of your pocket. “Yeah, me too. That crane game wasn’t kind to me.”

You have a blast with the remaining tokens, staying away from crane games and sticking more to the classics. You learn that Kenma’s strategic thinking in volleyball does not translate over to basketball when you watch him miss every single basket of the game except for his last one in which he threw the ball against the back wall in frustration and landed right in the net.

Even when ordering the Uber minutes later, he still has a frown etched on his face from losing, and as much as you want to rub it in his face that now he’s feeling like you were after air hockey, you leave him to sit in his feelings. 

It’s a silent ride, at least on the outside. Internally, you’re an anxious, overthinking mess with your inner thoughts going a mile a minute. You spend the whole ride back to his place wondering if it’d be too forward of you to hold his hand that’s sitting on the seat between you two. It’s not like he didn’t hold your hand earlier tonight, even if it was only to drag you toward the arcade. Once you finally convince yourself that it’d be okay to try, the ride is over and his hand slips away to open the car door and you sigh as you lose your chance to be brave. 

When you’re home, Kenma’s tie and shirt undone and your dress shoes thrown haphazardly by the door, you finally get to discuss your thoughts on the restaurant. About how stuffy it felt in your formal clothes and how ridiculous the plating looked for the meals because you didn’t know what they’d even be able to taste with a portion size that small. Kenma even thanks you for breaking the ice by bringing up Domino’s because if you never did it “you’d still be in that restaurant having your 12th course of the meal.”

You swallow your bite and take a quick sip of your drink. “Why did you even choose that restaurant in the first place? Doesn’t feel like a place you’d be at.”

Kenma shrugs, brushing off the crumbs from his hands. “I don’t know… I guess I didn’t want our first date to be just like any other night we’d had. I wanted it to stand out from the rest so you can know that I’m serious about you.”

Your heart just about bursts hearing his gentle voice say that. “That’s… So sweet. I don’t know what to say to that besides thank you. Never knew you could be so charming.”

“Don’t expect it too often,” he jokes, to which you respond with an elbow to his ribs. “I know today didn’t go as expected, so maybe we can try again with a different restaurant.” 

“Maybe—and this is me just spitballing here—we should work our way up to the formal dress restaurants by starting with something simple like… Applebee’s.”

“I feel like Applebee’s is somehow a worse starting point than a place like McDonald’s.”

“Fiiiine. Since you have so much to say, then you pick where we’re eating for our next date. Just make sure I can get away with wearing sneakers and jeans, is all I’m saying.”

“Who said we were actually going on a second date? I don’t know if I want to date someone who eats wings like a toddler.” He reaches over with a napkin to wipe the corners of your mouth which you begrudgingly allow.

“Well, I don’t know if I want to date someone who waits until 48 fucking hours before the date to tell me that I have to put together a whole formal outfit for a restaurant.” Kenma looks away abruptly, but not before you see his shameless smirk. “Why the hell did you even take so long?” 

“I had to use some connections to get a reservation there within the week, and they didn’t get back to me until Thursday, so you knew when I knew!” 

“Hm… okay. I’ll let that one slide then. For now.” 

“So, I can get a second date?” 

“If you insist.”

Kenma puts what’s left of your food in his fridge with the promise of leftovers tomorrow. You help him tidy up a bit, taking your sweet time because it’s finally dawned on you that the date will be ending soon. You’re hit with a wave of disappointment, realizing just how much you enjoyed his company all day. And maybe it’s silly, but you don’t want it to end just yet.

When you’ve thrown away the last napkin, you slide in next to him in the kitchen, bumping shoulders with him before hooking your arm with his. “Wanna finish watching that anime you showed me? The one with the long title?”

He lets out an amused chuckle. “Glad you enjoyed it so much that you remember the name, but sure.”

He lets you guide him to the couch by his arm, plopping yourselves down on it while he grabs his remote to pick the show from his ‘continue watching’ section.

Halfway through the episode, you scooch even closer to Kenma so you can lean on him, your head gently resting on his shoulder to test the waters. He lifts his arm up to grasp you tighter, fingers trailing up and down your upper arm without looking away from the screen. You peer up at him to see a little smile on his face—hoping it’s because of your current position and not because of the atrocities happening on the screen. You’re rarely this close to Kenma. The closest you get to him on the daily is him leaning over you to fix some computer issues or you peering over his shoulder to watch him play on his Switch. 

You’ve never paid attention to his warm amber scent mixed with something floral, probably from his conditioner he told you he overpaid for because he thought it was on sale. How plush his hoodie is and how you’re definitely going to be “borrowing” it as a partner tax in the future. Or how the ends of his hair that’s tickling your face are really soft, no doubt because of that expensive conditioner, and you fight the urge to play with a few pieces. You could get used to being with him if this is what you’d be getting every day.

You manage to last another episode and a half before his soft touch lulls you to sleep, a smile mirroring his on your face.

You have a funny dream that night; you and Kenma are at an Applebee’s, both dressed in your grubbiest hoodies and sweats, while the subpar food sits untouched in front of you. He’s holding one of your hands on the table, stroking his thumb back and forth on the back of yours, the other hand keeping his head propped. You’re telling a story, laughing and waving your free hand around as you delve deep into it. To everybody else, you’re sure Kenma looks bored out of his mind, probably waiting for you to stop talking or at least get to the good part. But you know him better than that.

You can see the affection in his eyes as he doesn’t break eye contact with you, humming in acknowledgment wherever necessary so you know he’s actually listening. He’s squeezing your hand every now and again just because he can. His phone is face down on the far end of the table, most likely on ‘Do Not Disturb’ because you don’t hear a single vibration against the table. 

You’ve got his complete and undivided attention until he decides to get off his seat to lean over the table. You quiet down immediately, unsure of what the hell he’s going to do until he tilts his head and gently kisses you on your lips, lasting only a second before promptly sitting down and telling you to continue your story as if nothing happened. 

Non-dream Kenma would never do something so bold in public. At least, you don’t think so. 

But, goddammit, even if it means writing a script and playing director, you’re going to try your fucking hardest to make sure it happens exactly like your dream during your second date.

Written by: Luna

we’ve got a taglist if you’re interested 👀

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

There was some post about the enraging purposelessness of mowing lawns and someone commented about using a scythe instead and somehow this got me thinking. What if someone decided to make hay by themselves on their lawn?

Hay is food for herbivores, with different animals having different preferences. It's also good as bedding or mulch for a garden even if the food quality isn't great. So there's a reason for hay.

While I would assume that american prairie is traditionally maintained just by grazing? I know that in europe hay meadows have become part of a specific flower and insect ecosystem that has suffered by evolutions in maintenance. Traditionally you would cut that grass just once, maybe twice, in a year. exactly when depends on where you are and what the weather is like- it could even be as early as may, it could be june, it could be july. (a second haying might be in septemberish.) What you need is a hot week without rain. The quality of the hay as food tends to be better the earlier you catch it, but it's better for the flowers and insects to wait. (and you can still use that hay as bedding or mulch, but even then, there's usually still some good food in there.) There can be ecological benefits to removing the sheer bulk of the spring grass, depending on where you are I guess.

It being an annual task makes it feel less sisyphean, to me, but the trade off is that it's a lot all at once and you do it when it's hot. One must make hay while the sun shines, to quote a historical porn fic that was definitely using that metaphor to talk about taking advantage of a boner.

Anyway, I would not underestimate the humble scythe. I have an old one I use sometimes for places I can't get with a tractor and while it depends on your technique and how sharp you've made the blade, it can be very satisfying the way it sweeps a large swathe. If you're dealing with just a little lawn, you'd probably cut it quite quickly- though probably not very tidily.

The next step is usually turning or tedding the hay- basically it just needs to be turned over. .... a hay fork might do it? I'm sorry, I have a really good mechanical tedder and have never needed to do it by hand.

How long you dry hay for varies on conditions. I sometimes bale hay at 48(ish) hours, sometimes 4 or even 5 days. Occasionally I get lightly rained on and have to wait for it to dry again. It's better if it's fresh, but if it's not dry it will just go moldy.

Hay rakes are a great design. It's a simple thing made of wood, but the angle is just right and it can move a lot of hay. Obviously you don't want to be raking a whole field by hand, but a lawn? You'd be done in like half an hour.

I can't really help you with the manual alternative to baling. I have no idea how people used to make haystacks, but I would guess it involved rolling it kind of like you do a snow ball. (that's... sort of how round balers work, anyway). I imagine that hand rolled hay would not keep as long as hay compressed by a machine, but it probably doesn't need to. You don't need hay that will still be good in two years time. You can give it to a rabbit or something. And put it around your tomatoes.

You would need to store it somewhere dry though.

IDK. I personally find making hay once a year way more satisfying than mowing a lawn every few weeks. But I have also never actually tried to do it all by hand. I just have shitty old machinery and have occasionally had to pick up the slack. (I want a new rake)

[homeandash]

Rec list: short books / novellas read in 2023

Autobiography of Red - Anne Carson (160 pages): a coming of age novel about a young man who is secretly a winged red monster. A wonderful, strange book that's also an ancient Greek myth retelling/translation.

She of The Mountains - Vivek Shraya (128 pages): this book feels so much like Autobiography of Red I wondered if it was an inspiration. A lovely, tender, lyrical story of a bisexual boy's first love woven with a retelling of a Hindu myth.

Loaded - Christos Tsiolkas (151 pages): another coming of age story - a young Greek-Australian man's 48-ish hours of nihilistic hedonism. Unrelentingly brutal prose style & a complicated, unlikeable protagonist. A little fucked up, very compelling.

The Yellow Wallpaper - Charlotte Perkins-Gilman (63 page short story): for the women trapped in rooms and/or the women slowly going crazy enjoyers. Iconic piece of early feminist horror and a 5 star read.

The Vegetarian - Han Kang (208 pages): A woman having strange dreams about meat decides to become vegetarian. That's all I can tell you, this book is best read blind. Very fucked up (complimentary).

Giovanni's Room - James Baldwin (159 pages): A claustrophobic story about love, shame, codependency, and the monster self-hatred can make of us.

The Husband Stitch + Especially Heinous - Carmen Maria Machado (short stories): cheating bc I read her entire collection 'Her Body and Other Parties', but these were standouts and they're both available online. The first - feminist horror retelling of the Girl with the Green Ribbon folk tale, the second - weird fiction take on Law and Order SVU, problematizing the use of sexual assault victims' suffering as entertainment.

We Had To Remove This Post - Hannah Bervoets (86 page short story): A social media moderator reflects on the effect constant exposure to violent/depraved/conspiratorial content had on her mental health and relationship with her girlfriend. I wasn't all the way sold until about 2/3rds in, but since it's only 80 pages that hardly matters. Cool use of an unreliable narrator.

Lie With Me - Phillipe Besson (148 pages). A secret first love between two boys in the French countryside of the 80s, and the long years after they part. Sentimental and cinematic. If you love melodrama and tragedy you'll enjoy this.

** check content warnings for. well basically all of these tbh.

Please add to this list with your own recommended short reads 💖

[zeppeli-reelstallbun]

^REELSTALLBUN MASTERLIST^

★complete ☆incomplete ✦oneshot ❀sfw ♡smut ꩜content warning

requests open jjba + jjk mdni with fics marked 18+

Bruno Bucciarati:

☆ ❀ The Exception (8k)

-> START HERE • two • three

When Mista pulled him aside after dinner, Bucciarati was expecting to hear some low level crime that needed to be taken care of. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was the boy begging him to come on a double date. (Or: when Goodfellas meets Passione)

Gyro Zeppeli:

☆ ❀ A Jury of One (10k)

-> START HERE • two • three

Do you tell them? Should you explain why you kept your gender a secret? Did you even really need to? No… Gyro and Johnny had proven long ago they were your friends, you didn't need to keep this big of a secret from them for this long… but surely they have things they don’t tell you either.

Rohan Kishibe:

☆ ꩜ Did Something Slip Your Mind? (3k)

-> START HERE

It wasn’t the worst job you’d ever taken… Besides, working for one of the most popular mangakas was sure to boost your resume, even if it was at the expense of your sanity. [eventual smut, slowburn???]

What’s Reelstallbun Working on Right Now?

Last updated 1.22.25

In the barrel, we have the next part of Rohan Kishibe. expect this in the next 48 ish hours

After that, priority is going to the next part of Jury of One, which is giving me the most writers block of the bunch

You’ll likely see a Nanami Kento x reader after that, either a one shot or the start of another multipart if i’m feeling crazy. I have not one. Not two. But three different concepts for this man atm.

Then, we’ll be bringing it around town for another installment of Goodfellas Bucciarati,

Rules & Questions !!

if it has been a while since I’ve posted, do keep in mind that I am a full time university student, and while I love getting to forget about that while writing these fics, it does tend to take priority.

want to be added to a tag-list? just shoot me a dm with what story/character you want to be notified for, or comment under its most recent installment :)

not comfortable writing non con, incest, and any romantic x reader fics for underage characters. for jjba: I will not write for characters who spend the majority of their screen time underage but can be aged up (ie: giorno) but will write for characters who appear for a significant amount of time as an adult (ie: jotaro)

works may include cannon x reader, cannon x cannon, dub con, smut, language, drinking, smoking, substances. darker themes including cnc, somnophilia, manipulation, ect. all warnings will be tagged apropriatley

things I'm not opposed to writing are topics I wont touch without being explicitly asked/guided from people who know more than I do. These inclue amab perspectives, poc details, and any other cultural/personal experiences that I feel can be done better by creators with life experiences to back the writing. If you have specific details for a request, I am more than happy to work with you to keep things to your liking, should it apply. We do not vibe with ethnocentrism on this blog and we never will ;)

requests and feedback more than welcome! writing critique is what helps me improve and you have different eyes than I do, help spot what I don’t. Point out my typos, clunky dialogue, repeat word choices that have better synonyms, anything! Thick skin over here in terms of peer review, hit me with whatever you've got!!

!! while my goal for reader insert fics is to prioritize inclusion first, it is very likely that I misstep from time to time. Details like hair length, body type, and skin color will be kept as vague as possible; fics will always disclose any deviation from this norm in their warnings if it is unavoidable or an intentional aspect of the plot. That being said, I am a very white very buff very biased writer, and if you notice something that could be done better, I need to know !!

[ogerpon]

Rules: Shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people.

Tagged by @catboyclarity THANK YOU i will always talk about music. Commentary and lyrics included because I am once again incredibly normal about music.

1.) Sleep by Slowdive - "When I see you drowning / I'll dream, dream away from you"

So apparently the version I have on my spotify is like, a reupload by a completely random user under a different name and I did not realize this was a Slowdive song until right this second. Interesting! Did not know that was allowed!

2.) Enchanting Ghost by Sufjan Stevens - "And if it pleases you to leave me, just go / Stopping you would stifle your enchanting ghost"

YEAHHH ENCHANTING GHOST!!! I was really obsessed with the All Delighted People EP a few weeks ago so I'm not surprised it's got some representation in my on repeat playlist.

3.) Two Lips - Choir Boy - "I don’t need a place to go when I give up the ghost / Tulips of the spring should grow"

Passive With Desire is a great album all around, no comments.

4.) Child I Will Hurt You - Crystal Castles - "Mercy, we abstain"

I used to be really into this album in 2013??ish. But somehow I missed this song back then, and wasn't until recently I came around to it.

5.) Big in Japan - Alphaville - "I had no illusions that I'd ever find a glimpse of / Summer's heatwave in your eyes"

This is fully because I went on a road trip with my friends and someone put this on the playlist and it was stuck in my head so I started looping it while cooking dinner one night. But really catchy song.

6.) Canine Teeth - Orchid Mantis & Fog Lake - "Tell me, what's the price of a broken dream?"

Crazy story about this one, the owner of a local record shop helped produce this album and we were totally geeking out about it together because I love both Fog Lake and Orchid Mantis.

7.) Archie, Marry Me - Alvvays - "You've expressed explicitly your contempt for matrimony"

SONG OF THE SUMMER‼️I looped this one for a good long time because it's just a satisfying listen. Those introductory lyrics are as smooth as butter.

8.) All Delighted People (Original Version) - Sufjan Stevens - "I’m not easily confused / The trouble with the storm inside us grew / But I had so much to give / In spite of all the terror and abuse"

I just KNEW something from this EP would make an appearance here again. This song is like a smaller version of Impossible Soul to me. I love the reuse of the melody from Sound of Silence, and the reinterpretation of the lyrics to be about a turbulent relationship.

9.) Leave Me Be - Choir Boy - "When we both can see / Divergence warrants no hostility"

I am once again repeating that Passive With Desire is a great album and this is my favorite song from it. It's EXTREMELY catchy you have been warned.

10.) Happy 13 - Flotation Toy Warning - "Guess we can't really choose exactly where we land / But how fast you were bound is in your own hands"

Oh man, I discovered Bluffer's Guide To The Flight Deck probably less than 48 hours ago and I'm already concerned its on my repeat. Really fun, niche album with fantastic album art (we love you seabirds).

I don't tag people usually, but if you would like to do this then please feel free to tag me back! If anyone wants more music thoughts I recently made a Rate Your Music account and there's a few things like this up there.

[pi-ying-xi]

I have The Long Season brainrot. Which means I have thoughts.

But briefly:

The Long Season is The Bad Kids if they all grew up, and their choices were all so bad, they could only choose among those bad choices. Which is why the last five minutes of the drama is bittersweet, with the bitter very subtly wrestling the sweet onto the train tracks.

The actors are all so good - I knew Qin Hao, Liu Lin and Tang Zeng from other dramas - but Chen Minghao and Jiang Qiming were the revelations for me. (Chen Minghao can *dance*!)

Things I loved: apart from the pitch perfect performances, I loved the soundtrack, naturally, given that Xin Shuang is also a musician. I liked how they made a main character deaf, and how the people around him interact with that as a fact rather than as a disability.

There were two things that I really appreciated about the drama: the way it had no fucks to give about episode length - some were a regular 45 - 48 minutes, others (I'm looking at you, ep 11) we're an hour and forty seven minutes. The other is how whatever the music is at the end, and each episode has different music at both ends, it is absolutely important to the director that it has its time, never mind if the titles were all done - have a nice black screen and listen to the music!

Have to say, that chaotic, auteur-ish approach to a drama is only possible with the platform supporting it, so props to tencent.

Taking away props from tencent for the ridiculously bad subs. When I edit this post later, I'll upload some examples of how utterly rubbish the subs are. Have heard that they've resubbed it now, so if you haven't yet watched it, hope you have a better time of it. Because this drama deserves good subs and right now it doesn't have them.

Finally (for now) The Long Season reminded me of a short film we used to watch back when PK Nair did his Film Appreciation workshop in the 80s and 90s: Big City Blues. (Will add a link if I find it on YouTube). It has the same post-industrial anomie; a portrait of youth wasted and those on the margins abandoned so brutally they have no choice but to be brutal in turn.

That's why the last five minutes are not as easy to watch as the censors may have hoped. It's a good thing that Xin Shuang has enough control over the material to allow for what the censors need, while leaving the viewer with whatever complicated feelings they have.

Afterthought: I also watched Thirteen Years of Duat recently, an iqiyi/Light On drama. Equally short, covering the same kind of ground, in that cops investigate murders from more than a decade ago. We see the same changes in society, a similar portrait of ageing and persistence, of what the snatching away of hope does to the young.

But that drama, though also very good, followed a more prescribed path to its conclusion, with a tacky and tacked upon paen to law enforcement and the flag and all that rubbish.

Tencent and iqiyi are about the same in terms of how mainstream or offbeat their dramas are. But the directors of both these dramas made choices, and those choices make one a decent drama that you'd make excuses for, until you watch the other and see what it's possible to do even when you're required by what passes for socialism to provide a thread of hope.

[danihwang882]

~Tumblr Letter to Hyunjin and Felix~ =^w^=

The recent 48 hours started with up and down sets of good and bad news. On this Friday, family came over to drop off my younger nephew, whom we found out needs to be tested for basically the same stuff I was since a kid at Rady’s Children Hospital, delayed learning development, speaking lisp, impairment, psychological emotional needs from grief/loss at a young age that is impairing his now three-year-old self in getting him prepared for pre-kindergarten next year.

His elder brother is very advantage for a five-year-old, can carry on elaborate kid talk with adults, very loving, very emotional, cries to himself around his trusted people; example me, his auntie. Because he knows I understand them more than my own self some days now a days.

My elder father, choose to do the medication route and does not consent to surgery of any kind of his lung cancer, bone mastitis, and stage three kidney problems from chemotherapy and immune treatments with a weak heart.

These are the three men; I love a lot. But, the other two I majority of the time love with my every fabric of my mind, heart, soul are Hyun-Jin and Felix.

After a late-night interaction with both, getting a “Don’t worry I will be safe on stage, enjoy dinner” from Hyunjin. Then more conversation from Felix, with another compliment. “You are lovely today too~~” When he has not seen an update selfie from me today yet.

The bubbles of butterflies started rising in my chest and heart on a whole different type of wavelength with these two people. You, stays truly do not understand how I feel right at home with all 8 of them, Stray kids; every member brings their unique flare of fire to the whole team. Their talent from seeing it develop over years live and prerecorded on YouTube has been a sight to fucking behold.

As I sit here, outside my mom’s and dads house, just crying and doing my own passions. You guys are my muses for changing my life, and my inspiration. If I could dedicate myself to you two men forever, I so would. Never ever, doubt yourselves because your part in my life is massive and unique as every night or morning sky of this vast earth and universe. The fact I have found my soulmates, and Twin Flame in this lifetime. Truly something to thank God for.

Right now, another epiphany in the deeps of happy/sad cry, I almost feel like human kind advantaged technology just so I would some how connect with all of you. Thank you sincerely JYP and our company for making the Bubble App.

Hyunjin and Felix I have the next title or soft pop/rock title or b-track for the 2025 Spring Album. I am trusting it with you, because your lyrical prowless is way better than mine when you add the music cords and I trust Changbin's and Chan's recording and mixing skills to make it into a very special mv, song, for the album.

Posting it now. Flutters of My HEART (Side Effects of Love)

Spoilers Case 143 + JJam/Mountains + Lose MY Breathe baby make it happen!!!!!!!

My cravings right now at 4:20 am ish LOL DENNY'S FUCKING PANCAKES. HOW will I get there, not uber/lyft maybe Old School Taxi

[harper-collins]

T4ATM IMPORTANT UPDATE/INFO

I just thought I'd give a quick update on T4ATM and everything. So firstly, hey, it's been a long week :) secondly, the chapter is mostly written, so expect it within the next 24-48 hours.

Thirdly though, I have been reading this extraordinary long fic and I have realised both how short my chapters are in comparison to the amount of chapters that are there, in contrast to my writing both in the beginning of writing T4ATM and now.

Also, the writing probably drives people away, first chapter, first impressions and the like after all! Basically, I want to rewrite a lot of the story itself to rework it into a longer, better fic and merge chapters together as I continue to write it.

That means that I will be posting when I edit/update a chapter but don't outright update it via the sending out a new chapter method. Just because I don't want to delete chapters to make it look smaller and the like.

Here is the plan as it stands:

I am going to finish writing the chapter as I usually do, and then as I'm working on my other projects, I will be simultaneously copying and editing chapter one and possibly two too to merge them up, write the next chapter as normal (ish) and then edit it all in one go.

So, chapter 1 and 2 will become 1 and chapter 56 will become chapter 55 (since it'll all be moved back by one, if all goes well)

Just gotta figure out how to do it without constant copy and paste or I might have to make this a hiatus... But I'll let you guys know if that becomes the case! (I doubt it severely!)

Thank you so much for reading this much of me just talking, it means a lot! I'm gonna try to direct anyone who reads T4ATM to this post, haha. It is extremely important.

Anyway, have a fantastic day or night and enjoy yourselves! Peace out

[electroniccollectiondonut]

hhhhhhhhhhhhh okay. absolutely unhinged rambling under the cut

it is 12:14 am local time and i just finished tma season 1 and i should go to bed but! by my estimate i have, roughly, 83 more hours of content to get through. now, my staying up for a long time record is 76 hours and after i did that i took a 1 hour nap and immediately packed up and drove three and a half hours and did my college orientation day (a subsequent 27 hours ish of staying awake straight through) and i felt like absolute dogshit the whole time but i managed to have fun and be a person regardless, but that was when i lived in a household where i could regularly go several days without being expected to do anything major or come out of my room to interact with anyone, whereas in my current household i am expected to do daily tasks and be at least a little sociable, and i have already been up for 13 hours which stretches the necessary awake time to 96 hours instead of 83 which feels less doable. also, it is currently thursday, which means there will be kids here some time in the next few days and i will probably be expected to be the driver to pick them up and drop them off and even though i really only need a little bit of my attention to actually be on the road, expecially that route since ive driven it so many times, i should probably not be driving kids around when sleep deprived. however, i have in the past stayed up in roughly 48 hour stretches with 1-2 hours of sleep in between if i am very strung out on nervousness or excitement but still put a little thought into being an actual functional human being, meaning that i could forego a few nights sleep and have little naps when i begin to feel nonfunctional. there's also the fact that i could just pound caffiene, but that feels unwise. BUT there is the factor that is the whole reason that i am considering these unwise courses of action, and that is that i am more excited to consume more magnus archives than i've been about any media since critical role two years ago, which was what i was watching the last time i felt the need to forego several nights sleep in favor of media and set my current record of 76 hours without sleep. now, the biggest arguments against me doing this are that in the next few days i will be driving with children in the car and probably doing minor construction projects and because i am a live in caretaker i need to be ready to jump into a life or death situation at a moments notice. the biggest arguments in favor of me doing this are that i am currently going feral over this show because my adhd hyperfixation brain has just sunk its teeth in and i took the SAT severely sleep deprived and still got a 1300 and the fact that i do not have work again until the 14th of next month so there will never be a better time to stay up for ungodly amounts of time listening to a podcast than right now. conclusion: uncertain. i will keep yall posted.