#very much the diet version y’know

[random-jot]

i’m grateful that Kaiju No. 8 does have an anime adaptation, but i gotta be honest, seeing stills from the show next to the manga panels… let’s just say I won’t be torn up if it switches studios, y’know?

[raitrolling]

Catch Him and Make Him Say

[Easy reading version on Toyhouse]

Sharle watched the slices of wagyu beef sizzle on the small grill at the centre of the table like a hawk, the tongs in his hand poised to snatch up the meat the moment it was cooked to his liking. 

Across from him sat his teammate Tira, who had invited him out to lunch to catch up a couple nights after the Twelfth Perigee Ball. While they had attended together, it didn’t take long for the much more social tealblood to mingle with other VIP guests he’d struck up a conversation with, and the blueblood to end up finding his other close friend after getting involved in a small predicament. It was this predicament Tira had seen photos of on both Twitter and Instagram that had piqued his curiosity, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get Sharle to talk about it in-depth without some sort of leverage.

And what better way to catch a bird of prey than with an offer of fresh food?

While Sharle was laser-focused on his lunch, Tira ordered a couple more sides on his phone, knowing that they could be here a while. This early on into the off-season meant that they could both be more relaxed with their diets, until the new sweep rolled around and it was back to the pre-season grind. Might as well make these last two weeks of freedom worth it.

When he heard the clattering of the tongs as the falcon troll scooped up his wagyu slices and dropped them onto his plate (a sign that he was now capable of multitasking between eating and chatting), Tira cleared his throat. 

“So, you and Velour, huh.” the tealblood said with a smirk, picking up his own pair of tongs to drop a few slices of pork onto the now-empty grill. 

Sharle looked up, a puzzled expression on his face.

“What about him?”

“I’m just saying, it’s not often you get men literally hanging off you. Like, I know your fans wanna climb you like a tree until they figure out you’re not even six foot-“

“Hey, I’m taller than you,” Sharle interjected with a mouth full of wagyu and rice, then held up his chopsticks to signal that he needs a minute to swallow his food before he can continue. “And he was hanging off me cuz he wasn’t feeling well. It was, er, something about bad seafood.” 

“That’s not what the girlies on Twitter are saying,” Tira snickered, picking up his phone again to scroll through his screenshots and read out a couple. “‘Shalour is real I never lost hope!!’, ‘the way Velour is holding onto Sharle so tenderly I’m gonna be sick’ - that’s a positive in stan slang, by the way, oh wait this one’s great - ‘need me a man who carries my drunk ass home from Denny’s at 7am like Sharle carrying Velour’.” 

The last one at least made the falcon troll snort.

“Er, who is going to Denny’s that close to the morning? That sounds like they should be going to bed.”

“It’s a figure of speech, Sharlie, no one goes to Denny’s.”

“Huh, alright.” Sharle shrugged, already starting to mentally check out of this conversation. “Your, er, meat needs flipping, by the way.” 

Tira looked down and gasped as he caught a glimpse of his pork slices now featuring a very charcoal black underside. 

“My piggies! Wait- Hey, you’re using the food as a distraction from our very important discussion!” The tealblood pouted, managing to effortlessly flip the slices over while giving Sharle a mock grumpy look. 

“Is it important? Since, er, it’s not like anything happened. I just did what anyone would do, yeah?” Sharle shrugged again, popping another piece of wagyu into his mouth.

“In front of potential paparazzi and nosy fans?” Tira asked, pointing the tongs at the other troll.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t you?”

That response earned another pout from the dragonfly troll. 

“Oi, leave me outta this! Of course I would, but I’ve got the better reputation, y’know? I’m the fun class clown with a heart of gold, and you’re the rough and angry bad boy. When you do stuff like that, of course people are gonna turn heads and start spreading rumours.” 

The blueblood scoffed.

“Yeah, I don’t get that either. I’d just say there’s nothing happening between us, just like there wasn’t when people tried to say we were secretly pale, or, er, whatever that was.” Sharle shook his head. 

“Oof, how cold, you’re breaking all the Shalour girlies’ hearts yet again.” Tira clutched his chest to emphasise his point. “Guess I’m gonna have to hype up team Shamie even more to warm them up to the real ship!”

Sharle’s expression could not be any more blank.

“Er, team who?”

“Team Shamie, duh. Do I need to spell it out for you? You can figure out where in that portmanteau the ‘mie’ comes from, yeah?” Tira repeated with a smirk on his face.

While he didn’t know what the word ‘portmanteau’ meant, Sharle was capable of figuring out what the ‘Sha’ and the ‘Mie’ signified. He shook his head with a snort, picking up some pickled ginger with his chopsticks to mix in with the remainder of his rice.

“Alright, c’mon man, that isn’t a thing. None of the, er, social media people know about that.”

“About what?” 

Tira would have given him a smug look, but he was interrupted by the waitress bringing him the side dishes he ordered, a tray with three bowls resting comfortably on her arm. The first bowl set down on the table contained lotus root chips, the second bowl contained a serving of karaage with a small salad, and the third contained a single egg. Tira took the third bowl to crack the egg into his rice and pork slices and mixed it all together, while Sharle murmured an awkward ‘arigato’ to the waitress. She didn’t respond, though it was unclear if she didn’t hear him or was so confused as to why he felt the need to speak to her in East Alternian that she didn’t know what to say.

Sharle then reached over to pinch one of the pieces of karaage, but Tira swatted at his hand with his egg-covered chopsticks. The blueblood made a face in response.

“Ah, ah, ah! No chicken until you tell me what happened with Jamie. You’re hiding something, I bet,” Tira grinned, now able to reach dangerous levels of smug.

Sharle shrugged, keeping his hand in position to snatch the karaage as soon as he’s allowed to.

“I dunno, it wasn’t anything really. Or, er, anything people would care about. We just chatted, danced a bit, and, er, he gave me his cape because he didn’t want to get tangled in it.”

“Ooh, spicy. Like a gentleman offering his jacket to a cold fair maiden!” Tira nodded sagely as he scooped up as much rice, pork, and egg that his chopsticks could hold.

In that moment his guard was down, Sharle swiped the piece of karaage he’d been eyeing off and ate it in one swift movement, looking a little proud of himself. Then he remembered something.

“Oh, yeah. He, er, called me that too after I called him to look after Velour. And, er, he kissed my hand too, for some reason.”

Technically, Sharle hadn’t forgotten that, it was more that when he thought of it, he… Didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t embarrassment he was feeling, since he didn’t mind what Jamie had done, but something similar. Something…

“Oh my god, you were into it, weren’t you? You sap!” Tira’s tone was teasing, but also very endeared by Sharle’s puzzled expression. It was clear that something had awoken in the blueblood that night.

Sharle pursed his lips in thought. “I dunno, it’d probably be the same for anyone, I think. Like, er, it’s not like anyone else has kissed it before.”

“Would you feel the same if it was me?” Tira tilted his head slightly, both intrigued and amused.

“I mean, probably?” The blueblood shrugged. “Like I said man, it was the first time.”

Tira’s eyes lit up and a mischievous smile crossed his face as an idea suddenly popped into his head. He put down his bowl and chopsticks, then gestured towards Sharle.

“Alright, alright, Sharlie. Give me your hand, not the one Jamie kissed just in case you’re doing that thing some fans do. Y’know, the ‘ooh, this celebrity touched my haaand, I’m never washing it again!’ thing?”

Sharle blinked, but offered his hand as he was told to do.

“Hey man, I showered, alright? And, er, why do people do that anywa-”

Before he could finish that sentence, Tira had taken his hand and brought it to his lips, giving it a kiss the same way that Jamie had done.

Sharle could only stare blankly back, utterly baffled.

“Er, okay.” He stared over at his teammate, who was still giving him a cheeky grin in return.

“How’d that feel? Get the same lovey-dovey feelings? Did the sparks fly?” Tira rubbed his thumb against Sharle’s hand for good measure, and was unsurprised to see a complete lack of a reaction from the blueblood. 

“It felt like you just kissed my hand.” Sharle replied, his tone plain and seemingly unbothered.

Tira smirked in response, and let go of Sharle’s hand so they could both return to finishing off their meals.

“Sure did buddy, glad those keen eyes of yours work more than just for watching the grill. But, the point is, you prefer when Jamie kisses you, don’t you? A quick peck from your lil’ ol’ teammate just doesn’t do it?” 

Sharle paused. He supposed that the two times someone has kissed his hand now had given him completely different feelings. With Tira, it just felt like he was messing around or trying to prank him. But with Jamie…

“... Er, I don’t know, but it was different.” He sounded somewhat unsure, like he was venturing into unknown territory.

Tira grinned, knowing he’s got Sharle right where he wants him. “How so?”

The blueblood paused again, chopsticks resting against his lips while he seriously thought it over. 

“Jamie was, er… Softer.” For some reason, the tips of Sharle’s ears blushed blue when he thought of it.

“Aw, are you saying I’m not tender enough for you?” Tira teased, raising an eyebrow at his teammate’s reaction.

“No, er- I don’t think so? I guess Jamie just uses the, er…” Sharle gestured vaguely with the hand holding his cutlery, trying to think of the word. “... The lip moisturiser, yeah?”

The dragonfly troll snorted.

“C’mon, Sharlie, don’t tell me you don’t know what Chapstick is.”

“Hey! Yeah, that’s the word!” Sharle replied, snapping his fingers in recognition. “But, er, yeah, it’s probably that.”

Tira stared silently at his teammate for a moment, and then cracked up into a fit of laughter that would’ve made him slap the table if he hadn’t already picked up his bowl and cutlery again. 

“Mate! C’mon, really?” He managed to get out in between cackles. “Okay, okay, alright, sure, sure, whatever you say buddy.” 

Sharle looked incredulous.

“Yeah, what’s so funny about that? That’s probably what it is, yeah?” But even he was starting to sound somewhat unsure. Was there really nothing more to it? 

He didn’t think it would be anything different, and probably something Jamie does with other people he’s friends with. But if it wasn’t… He’s not sure how he felt about it.

But he did know he didn’t hate it. In fact, he didn’t mind it in the slightest. Maybe he did like it, after all.

Tira eventually sobered up, having had his fill of lunch and entertainment. He set down his now-empty bowl and placed the chopsticks on top of it, then wiped his mouth with the napkin and tucked that under the chopsticks. Sharle was still picking away at the lotus root chips, and appeared to be thinking over something as he had that intense look in his gaze as he tends to do when he’s concentrating. 

The dragonfly troll tilted his head in curiosity, wondering what he was thinking about, then cleared his throat to ask:

“By the way, did you get him a Twelfth Perigees’ present?”

Sharle looked up at his teammate, then froze as the realisation hit him. 

“Oh. Oh my god that’s less than a week away isn’t it.”

That had been the last thing on his mind.

[thebibliosphere]

Hi, Joy!! I have a quick question for you,,, I've been following your Chronic Health tag for a while, and have always kind of suspected POTS but was never sure,,, well, until I got a fitbit and my heartbeat shot up from 70 to 127 after standing up. So,,, I'll need to be seeing a doctor. But do you know what kind of treatments are suggested for it? Everything I see says like "various meds and exercise" but exercise seems counterproductive bc one of the symptoms is exercise intolerance. I dunno, I'm just hesitant to trust judgey doctors or vague websites, and would rather ask someone who actually HAS it.

Hey! Sorry to hear you might be dealing with POTS, it’s not a fun thing to contend with.

The main treatment for POTS is increasing your hydration and salt levels (1). This may come in the form of salt tablets, or naturally through your diet, depending on severity. I get salt tablets for my really bad days and manage it the rest of the time with salty snacks. My daily intake of electrolyte water* is between 2-4 liters a day, as recommended by my doctor. My minimum goal is 2 liters. If I don’t hit that marker, I’m going to start becoming symptomatic and my heart starts doing weird things to the tune of 165bpm while lying down. Which is also a thing. Lying down with your legs propped up to get the blood flow back up to your core is very much a thing a lot of fellow potsies will be all too familiar with.

Another thing is compression therapy. On bad days, I wear compression socks, and essentially what is a medical version of Spanx underwear lol. This helps to keep my blood in my core, and not rush to my legs, which means my heart doesn’t have to go a mile a minute to keep my blood pumping. If I know I’m going to be out the house and doing a lot of walking/standing, I will preemptively wear them, or make sure I’ve got them in my backpack.

This brings us to exercise. And the thing most online articles (and some absolutely shitty doctors) don’t mention about POTS and exercise is that it has to be incredibly gentle due to things like exercise intolerance. It’s taken me two years of rehabilitation and treatment, but I can now do 30 minutes straight on a reclined** exercise bike. This is a pittance compared to someone who used to go hiking up Scottish hills on the daily, but it’s a massive achievement for me now post-illness. I can also go for 30-minute walks in mild weather, provided there aren’t many hills. But running? Hell no. Even some of my physical therapy exercises are too much and have to be swapped out for gentler versions. I do a lot of my stretches and exercises while sitting down, and that’s perfectly acceptable. It’s about finding the level of exercise that is safe and accessible to you. Some folks find that they can get better enough to resume normal levels of exercise, and I still hope that one day I will. But it’s a slow process, and being gentle with myself is the only way I’m going to get there. And if I never do? Well, 30-minute walks are better than lying on the floor cause you stood up too quickly.

There are other medications that can be tried, like blood pressure meds. I’ve got zero experience with them because of my MCAS, but I do know some folks on here who have had good results with their blood pressure meds. But the first and foremost thing to do is make sure you’re hydrated and well-rested. They can really make a difference.

Also, just in general, people who don’t have POTS can experience those heart level numbers if they’re dehydrated. So y’know, this is a general reminder for everyone to take a sip, babes. 

Hope that helped!

*I use electrolyte water to avoid electrolyte imbalances, which can sometimes happen when you drink too much water (3).

**If you can exercise while reclined with POTS, this can help with the intolerance and is just also gentler and less likely to trigger an episode.

[wickedmilo]

LOVE LIKE THIS | MILO & METZLI

PLACE: Metzli’s Apartment TIMING: 8:20 PM SUMMARY: Grappling with his feelings of loneliness, Milo decides to confide in Metzli WRITING PARTNER: @deathisanartmetzli CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction tw (brief mention of an intervention)

Milo was never sure how much blood Metzli kept in their apartment. And for numerous reasons, he felt it was better not to ask. Given their history together, Metzli might think he was being controlling, or refusing to trust them when it came to maintaining a healthy diet. But he also didn’t want to give the impression that he was eager to deplete their precious stash. It was why, as he knocked on the door to their apartment, he was grateful for his own stash, and the two blood bags he had slipped into his backpack before making the journey to see his friend. He still felt strange after their conversation. Even over text, being honest, and open could be emotionally draining. It was almost as though now that he had finally, in a way, said the words out loud, it was impossible to deny them. Impossible to ignore the aching in his heart, the longing for something that was so out of his reach. Rubbing at the marks on his throat, evidence of the trauma that was causing him so much turmoil, he did his best to repress his emotions. Metzli had invited him over to comfort him, he knew that much, but that didn’t mean he needed to dwell on why. “Metzli- it’s me, I mean you already know it’s me. I don’t know why I said that. Just- open the door?” 

“Door’s unlocked!” Metzli yelled from the kitchen, finishing up making Yuca’s dinner. She was meowing in excitement, trotting around in circles as if to try and hurry their owner along. “If only you knew how spoiled you are, chiflada.” They smiled at her and led her into the living room where her food perch was. Leaping up, she completely ignored the familiar visitor walking in  to focus on her food.  

Metzli had a few movies picked out for the night, and of course, as they had mentioned, there were the signature Hispanic blankets with tigers on them. They were incredibly soft and always made them feel so comfortable and cozy. Nothing matched the impeccable designs or craftsmanship. “Pick out what movie you wanna watch first.” A finger pointed to the cases on the coffee table, knowing they’d get a great reaction from Milo.  

Milo let himself into the apartment, his gaze searching the room as he kicked off his Converse. Letting the door swing shut behind him, he pulled the two blood bags out of his backpack so that he could abandon that too, carrying them both to the kitchen where he could hear Metzli preparing Yuca’s dinner. He wrinkled his nose as the smell of cat food hit him, but he couldn’t help feeling a rush of affection at the sight. It was so nice seeing Metzli in such a warm, and domestic setting. Regardless of what they told him about how it felt to exist without a soul, it was obvious they still cared about the animal. “I brought dinner for us.” He explained, setting the blood down on the nearest counter. “Hopefully it’s far more appealing than that.” He nodded his head in the direction of the food bowl, only turning his attention away from his friends when he was instructed to decide upon a movie. He wandered back into the living room, failing to hold back a peal of laughter when the various covers jumped out at him. “Underworld, Let Me In, Vampires vs The Bronx, 30 Days of Night, and… Twilight.” He read aloud, faltering as he reached the final movie. As funny as Twilight was, Rio had been the one to make him watch it. And suddenly he was bombarded by memories of them curled up on Rio’s couch, teasing each other about the ridiculous world of the Cullens.  

And there it was again, that sense of heartache, of something missing from his life. He forced himself to ignore it, forcing it back down until it was nothing more than a minor discomfort. “I haven’t watched half of these since, y’know- since becoming a vampire.” He admitted. “Jeez, it’s so weird looking at them all…” From the quiet, ominous vampires of Let Me In, to the bloodthirsty, monstrous vampires of 30 Days of Night, every writer had their own interpretation. Their own version of what it meant to be undead. “Do you have a favourite?” He called. “Shit, you were alive when all of these came out. Like, an adult- I mean. Did you see any in the cinema?” 

“That’s so rude.” Metzli blew a raspberry at Milo and trotted over to the kitchen and heated up the blood in two mugs to prepare for the movie. They pondered on what he had just said, not seeing any of the movies since becoming the very thing the movies glamorized. The microwave beeped and Metzli grabbed both mugs before heading back to the living room and answering Milo’s question with a somber look on their face. “We didn’t really have movies, you know? All the myths were basically just left to the imagination until, well, it wasn’t just that. Got to see the real thing up close and personal while I think...maybe four or five attacked me? It’s been a long time.” A clack sounded from the table from the mug being placed down, and a soft sigh pushed past tight lips, sitting down slowly. 

With a shake of their head, they sipped and chuckled a little to alleviate some of the tension. Even though it was a little bit of a sensitive subject, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it used to. Besides, Metzli wanted this night to be about friendship and care, not their troubles. “I really like horror, so 30 Days of Night is definitely one of my favorites. Pretty gory too. But no, I’ve never gone to the movies. Always thought the concept was weird.” 

“I meant no offence.” Milo laughed as Metzli stuck their tongue out, listening to them absentmindedly as they readied the blood. It only took a few seconds in the microwave for the smell of copper to permeate the air, and he felt a familiar thirst constrict the back of his throat. Sometimes no matter how well fed you were, the temptation was there. It was undeniable. Glancing back up from the table to offer Metzli his full attention, he gratefully accepted his mug as they brushed past him, curious to hear them speak about being raised without movies. It was something he hadn’t considered, hadn’t really dissected in his mind. The world had been a very different place when Metzli was born into it. A very, very different place. Suppressing a shudder as he thought about how terrifying it had been to be targeted by a single vampire, he couldn’t imagine the abject horror of being attacked by four, or five. He took a drink from his mug, distracting himself with the rich, comforting taste of warm blood. It was strange to consume the same substance repeatedly without growing bored, or sick of it. When he was human he would obsess over a favourite food until he could no longer enjoy it. Until his body demanded he take a break, and find a fresh new flavour to fixate on. But somehow blood tasted better each time he tried it, he knew that was never going to change.  

“I guess I didn’t really think about what genres you might like.” He shot his friend a sheepish grin. He should start paying more attention to the interests of those around him. Sometimes he got so lost in his own problems, he forgot other people were equally as complex. Everybody had shit to deal with, in the same way everybody found something different in books, and films, and other forms of artwork. “You’ve never been to the cinema? Not even once?” He asked, unable to hide his incredulity. He joined Metzli on the couch, picking up one of the blankets they had laid out ready for him. Setting his mug down so that he wouldn’t spill his drink and stain the material, he ran his fingers along the soft fabric, enjoying how gentle it felt against his skin. “You’ve not even been a little curious?” 

Metzli shrugged, not really caring if Milo had ever thought that deeply about them. To his credit, they hadn’t really delved into interests and preferences. This was one of the first times the two had been able to sit down and take a breather from all the impending doom. “No, never been interested. Why bother going out in public when I can just watch a movie here? Can’t even have the snacks there.” The television came to life and the Playstation soon followed. There was no need for a dvd player when everything could be condensed to one console. 

“All right, have you picked yet?” Mug in hand, Metzli leaned back and let an arm drape over the back of the couch casually, taking special care to make sure Milo didn’t notice. He seemed a little distant, not taking to his usual snarky personality where the two could go back and forth easily. Something was gnawing at him, but they weren’t sure if prodding was the right move. Taking the risk, they nudged their hand forward and ruffled Milo’s hair. 

“You okay, Depresso?”  

Milo laughed, shaking his head. “But it’s about the experience. There are some seriously cool cinemas out there. And even if the cinema isn’t the greatest, midnight premieres and shit can still be so much fun. It’s nice to sit in a room knowing you share a passion with everybody in there… I guess you kind of have that with your art gallery, huh?” Settling down against the cushions, picking up his mug again to cradle it in both hands, he watched the Playstation logo appear on the tv screen, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip. The Twilight DVD kept drawing his attention, and he couldn’t help but remember the same DVD on Rio’s coffee table. The way Rio’s face had lit up when he inserted the disc into his own Playstation. “I don’t know.” He answered, his voice far more disinterested than he had intended it to sound. He pushed his glasses up his nose, attempting to compose himself, although he knew there was no real use in making the effort. Metzli knew him, and the entire reason for him being here was his emotional state. He quite literally couldn't hide from them.  

As if to prove his point, Metzli leaned back to join him, and he avoided their gaze, staring straight ahead despite there being nothing to watch just yet. “What? No, I’m fine-” He insisted, not moving away in time to avoid his friend’s hand. Pouting like a child as he surrendered himself to the treatment, he didn’t bother brushing his hair down again. Leaving it tousled, and unkempt almost to spite them. “I’m just-” He broke off, wondering whether he should finish his sentence. “I’m missing someone- Rio. I’m missing someone called Rio.” He was suddenly grateful for his inability to blush. “We got close a while back… he actually showed me Twilight to make me feel better about all of this. But he’s gone… he left, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to see him again. He was the first person to ever make me doubt what I want… you know? And now…” He hesitantly caught Metzli’s gaze, looking away again almost immediately. “It doesn’t matter, I’m being stupid.”

Seeing that Milo didn’t bat their hand away, they attempted to just run their hand through his hair, trying their best to be comforting. Missing people was extremely hard, especially when they made such a big impact on you and when you don’t know where they went. Metzli’s voice took on a caring tone, giving as much as they could to their friend, their…“Kid, that’s not stupid. You know how hard it is to get close to people? You did it and now that connection is just gone. That would hurt the strongest of people. Hell, I—” Their hand continued to show their affection and they secretly hoped he’d let them continue. “I would be pretty devastated if you left after we built this connection. You’re one of the few people I can stand, and one of the very few people I can trust. So no, Milo, it’s not stupid.” 

Metzli looked concerned for Milo, wishing they could mend whatever wound was laying deeply and heavily on his heart. “Do you wanna say it? What he made you doubt?” The way he trailed off and seemed to dismiss his own feelings didn’t sit right with them. Though they knew what it was like to be in that position. A part of them understood the need to try to push it off, believe it wasn’t really there. Accepting the pain made it more real, and made it inescapable.  

Milo stared down into his mug, tapping his fingers against it as he listened to what Metzli had to say. He felt ridiculous for being comforted by the hand in his hair, but he was. And he made no effort to move away from his friend. “Part of it is just… we were friends before, but we became real friends like, a month after I died. It was all so overwhelming and he just wanted me to be okay. I didn’t realise until after he left that I…” He swallowed, taking a sip of his drink so that he could avoid stating the painfully obvious. “I’m just mad at myself, I guess. For not kissing him when I had the chance.” It was the first time he had admitted anything close, even to himself, but there was no weight lifted from his shoulders. He didn’t feel any better for the admission, even if acknowledging it was somehow a relief. He had been confused for so long, maybe going forward he could be a little less so. “You mean it?” He caught Metzli’s eye, a frown creasing his brow as he stared at them. “That you can trust me?” Even his own parents didn’t trust him. And he knew there were a handful of people in his life dedicated to seeing the good in him, but it still didn’t feel real sometimes. It still felt incredible to hear.  

Taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he considered his options, he leaned into Metzli’s touch. Not only did it give him the assurance he needed, it meant he had no choice but to move closer to them. With his cheek resting against their shoulder, they could no longer see his expression. “He made me doubt whether I really want to be alone. And for a moment I wasn’t… even Alex was someone. But when Alex kissed my neck it was like- like being back there. Like being attacked all over again, and I panicked. What if sex just isn’t a part of my life now? I don’t know what to think about that… I don’t know how to feel.” He knew sex wasn’t the only way of sharing intimacy with a partner, but it was something he had relied on for so long. The excitement, the rush, the physical pleasure… he didn’t want to lose that. And to begin to want more when he couldn’t even handle the bare minimum was so difficult. It caused his chest to ache with longing. “I never even tried… having a boyfriend, I mean. I never wanted that. And now I’m wondering whether I left it too late. What if I have? What if I wasted my opportunities and now I’m just… alone forever?” 

“I mean it.” Metzli scooted closer, letting their legs touch and draping their arm a little more over Milo. They longed to comfort him, to take his pain and just feel it for him instead. He didn’t just lose a friend, he lost more than that when he was bit. A part of his innocence was stripped away, and made him feel scared and lost. “Milo, you have forever to live. This pain is something to grow from, and there is no set time line when it comes to healing. I know that doesn’t make it less real, though.” A firm grip rested at his shoulder, gradually pulling him in, letting him know he wasn’t alone. He never had to be alone again. Not if Metzli could help it. Even though they couldn’t fill that romantic gap, they could do their best to fill in the rest, and they knew Bex would do the same.  

Milo’s hair moved around their hand as they doted on him and did what they could to appease the beast of longing and loss. “We’re kind of opposite. I think I’m gonna be alone forever, yet I fuck whatever woman will say yes. When all I really want is someone to be with in that way. It’s hard to be that vulnerable. It feels nearly impossible. Especially at the beginning, especially after you’ve been turned.” Metzli raised the mug to their lips and took a moment to pause and drink. A ball was forming in their throat, and this was the best way to push it back down and remain composed. “You’re thinking of everything in such finality when you haven’t even given yourself the chance to experience grace. Not from others, but yourself. You’re expecting to be okay, but that’s not how it works. You’re not going to be okay for a while, and that’s okay.” 

Metzli placed the empty mug on the coffee table, breaking contact completely and not returning to it when they faced Milo. “You’re a catch. You have a big heart. And you just started your forever. Let yourself begin before you settle on an ending.” 

Milo faltered, reminded suddenly of the way his mom used to wrap her arms around him. She would sit with him on the couch like this, or curl up beside him in bed just to help him feel safe. He blinked away tears, shrinking in on himself as he allowed Metzli to comfort him. They were right, of course. He did have forever, but that was an equally terrifying thought. He couldn’t imagine outliving his friends and family, he couldn’t imagine existing in a world without them. But one day he wouldn’t have to imagine, one day that would be his reality. Struck by a sudden urge to call his parents, he buried the feeling, focusing on what Metzli was telling him. “No, I know…” He murmured, a frown creasing his brow. Why did he have to heal, and grow? Why couldn’t he just be okay? It felt so unfair that he was struggling due to the actions of another person, another vampire. None of this was his fault. “We’re not opposites.” He added, still clutching his mug to his chest. He couldn’t drink from it without jostling Metzli, but the smell of the blood was enough to relax him. “I used to do that because I didn’t want anything more…  and it was so easy.” Falling silent again, surprised by his friend’s honesty, he took a deep breath, mulling over the new information.  

“You want to be with someone?” He echoed. “Really?” He wasn’t sure being vulnerable was the issue. He couldn’t let somebody near his neck without being transported back to his final moments, but that wasn’t about vulnerability. Was it? “It’s been seven months, Metzli. I should know what I’m doing by now.” As if they could hear what he was thinking, they continued, telling him he was valid in his frustrations, complimenting him in a way that he was far from used to. “Why, though? Why can’t I just work my shit out already? So many people I know aren’t struggling… I mean, I don’t think they are.” He knew everybody had parts of their life that weren’t necessarily easy to navigate. But he also knew more than a few people, supernatural people, who didn’t seem to let what they were get in the way of their lives. It was natural to them. They almost embraced it. “I’m not settling on anything.” He let out a quiet huff of breath. “I just- I don’t know what I want. I thought I did and now… everything feels so screwed up.” 

“Here’s the thing, Milo. No one knows what the fuck they’re doing. All you can do, is try.” Metzli’s voice trembled slightly, knowing all too well what Milo is going through. “Everyone sews together masks with their heartstrings, the most vulnerable and delicate things. All in hopes that trying is enough. And it is. It’s akin to success.” The words felt almost preachy, but they were exactly how Metzli felt, what they wished someone had told them when they were sitting on the highway of loneliness. Thousands of cars drove past, but somehow it still felt so empty. When all they needed was someone to sit next to them, buy them time with nothing in their wallet. The time they needed to figure it all out. And since they didn’t have that, they had to settle for scarring their heart with all the blood they had to sell to pay down the debt of loss and misery. Milo didn’t have to do that. Not while they were around.  

With a single nod, they smiled and pulled Milo into their chest to hold him tightly. “Yeah, I do. After over a fucking century, I do. And it doesn’t have to take that long for you. ‘Cause you don’t have to be alone in figuring all this shit out. I won’t let you.” Metzli chuckled for no other reason than the surprise of them uttering those words. It wasn’t one of amusement or humor, it was one of joy in being able to love a friend. “Everything is so screwed up now, and everything feels like a bandaid or wrong answer, but I can be your best guess. Bex can too. We can lay in the mess and clean it up together ‘cause doing it alone sucks. You’ll heal. Little by little. God that sounds so preachy and lame, but fuck it.” Tears fell down their face and they had to rush and wipe them. They couldn’t help but wonder when the fuck they got so sappy. 

“I knew what I was doing before somebody decided to murder me.” Milo muttered, his voice quiet, and petulant. Things had been easier, yes, but he wasn’t entirely sure his words were true. His lifestyle hadn’t been sustainable. He lived each day to the next, never knowing where he was going to sleep, or how he was going to pay for the hit he was craving. His life plan had simply been to keep going until he inevitably burned himself out. Maybe that was why he felt so lost, because he actually had a future now. A vast one that stretched out impossibly before him. A begrudging smile tugging at his lips as he registered Metzli’s words, he hummed to let them know he was still listening. “Hm… you sound like a Hallmark card.” He made no effort to hide his affection for them, sincerely hoping they might be right. If trying could be considered enough, then maybe he was enough. He was trying for quite possibly the first time in his life and that had to count for something. 

Allowing himself to be pulled closer against his friend, even if he wanted to withdraw he knew he wouldn’t be able to. He felt like a child again, transferring his worries and his pain over to an adult, somebody who could hold him and tell him everything was going to be fine. “I didn’t realise you wanted… is that why you’re so close with Macleod?” He asked, unable to stop the words from escaping him. He was curious to know, and it was a good distraction from his own thoughts. Eventually slipping out from under his friend’s arm, he missed the contact almost immediately. Vampires didn’t offer a lot of warmth, but the comfort of an embrace was still very much the same. He pulled his knees up to his chest, watching them to see if they were crying. He strongly suspected they might be, it was the only reason he had moved away from them, but they had already erased any evidence of their tears. 

“I think it sounded nice.” He left no room for them to argue, taking a long drink from his mug so that they wouldn’t be able to counter his statement. No longer preoccupied by the feeling of his fangs pressing down against his lower lip, he realised it would feel far more strange to drink without them present. Yet another way he was growing used to his life now. “I’m really glad I have you, Metzli. And Bex, and Macleod and everyone else who cares… but especially you.”

“Did you, though? If you’re lost now, you were definitely lost before. It was just simpler then.” Metzli retorted quietly, smiling wryly and letting Milo put some space between them. At first they thought they had done something wrong, pushed too far, said too much, but no. Milo was checking on them. Soft eyes clung onto him and they continued on to begrudgingly answer Milo’s question. Not even they knew the answer, but maybe they’d find it along the way. “Not sure how close Macleod feels to me. I have feelings. And god, we connect. But…not sure she’d ever feel something for me, or if anyone could. But I think—sometimes—I…” It was so difficult to say it aloud. Once it was out there, there was no taking it back. “Sometimes I feel like I want to be with Bex. I know it’ll never happen. And I won’t act on it. But I love her. More than I’d like to. I think a lot of it has to do with how similar we are and how strong our connection is.” Metzli swallowed, but continued. “And if I’m that fucking nuts to possibly be in love with—I don’t know. Maybe it’s fine. Means I’m capable of it. Of loving. But I have no idea what I am, if I’m being honest. Maybe this is just strong platonic love and I don’t know how to decipher it.” 

Knees met chest, making them so small as they uttered their truth. All Metzli could hope for is that Milo never mentioned it to Bex. “Wait what? Why especially me? Aren’t I like, the worst parent of the year or something?” 

Milo wanted to deny what Metzli was telling him, he could already feel the beginnings of defensive anger. But it wasn’t fair to fight back, not when he himself had been thinking the very same. “Maybe.” He admitted, finishing what was left of his drink. Setting the empty mug down on the coffee table, he moved to rest his chin on top of his knees, holding his friend’s gaze as they answered his question. Their expression was so gentle, it was difficult to imagine anybody reserving that look for him. Maybe it was for Macleod, even before they clarified he had been so sure they shared a connection with her. But there was a chance it wasn’t quite as strong as he first assumed. Metzli didn’t seem to be in love with her. Feelings could mean almost anything. “Are you still seeing her?” He asked, curious to know whether their adventures were a thing of the past. If that was the case, he should be glad he was no longer going to be subjected to stories about what they got up to when they were together. But the idea actually made him sad. It was fun to feign disgust, but he had secretly been enjoying the idea of the two people he looked up to becoming romantically involved.  

“Wait-” He blinked, his brain taking more than a moment to catch up with what Metzli had said. Bex? Surely they couldn’t mean Bex Bex. He could feel the illusion of a familial unit shattering, rearranging itself to fit this new piece of the puzzle, a piece that didn’t connect to any of the others. “You’re in love… with Bex?” Confusion was written across his features, and he stared at his friend, a million questions running through his head. “I thought not having a soul… can you love somebody like that?” It sounded insensitive, and that hadn’t been his intention, but his desire to know far surpassed his desire to tread lightly. Metzli certainly wasn’t treading lightly. “I mean, do you think it could be? I’ve never been in love, I only know how people talk about it… can you confuse romantic love with platonic love?”  

Noticing the shift in Metzli’s body language, the way they seemed to be making themself as small as possible, he swallowed, inching closer to where they were sitting. “It’s okay, I’m not about to tell anyone. It’s for you to figure out.” He assured them. It was the least he could do after they had listened to him. “And no, obviously not.” He added, a smile tugging at his lips. “Organise a couple of interventions and maybe you’ll be getting there. You’re actually pretty great, y’know.”

Despair filled Metzli’s eyes and they felt a pang of embarrassment as they were asked if they could even feel anything. It was a good question, one they didn’t know the answer to. For all they knew, this was just an infatuation gone incredibly wrong. “I haven’t seen Macleod since coming back. I’ve reached out, but there’s been no response. I want to see her. She’s…wonderful. She’s so fierce and aggressive, but can be so kind and sweet. There’s no one like her, but l don’t even know if she’d be interested in something more.” Their hand reached for the pendant around their neck, the one Macleod had given to them. They hadn’t even taken it off except for when they thought it might get damaged.  

“I don’t know what this is honestly, Milo. I just know that I love her. Intensely. In my own, soulless way, I love her. But of course, I need to ask you to not say anything. I’m still trying to figure it out.” Metzli sighed and shut their eyes tightly to string another sentence together. “I’ve tried researching ‘cause I’ve never felt it either. So many things point to platonic while others say romantic. I don’t know anymore. But the only thing that matters is that I let myself figure it out. Sorry.” Eyes avoided Milo’s ashamedly and they sighed again.  

Metzli grew sad at the thought of Milo thinking his parents were bad because of what they tried to do to help him. Interventions were scary, but they were ultimately for the betterment of the person receiving them. They came from a place of love. Anger bubbled but they pushed it back down. He was lost, and forcing him to find the path wasn’t going to help. “I’ll have to tell you about this werewolf and then you’ll think differently.” The mood shifted a little more positively and Metzli ran with it. “Let’s pop a movie in and just…forget shit for a while. How does that sound?”

Milo smiled when Metzli began to talk about Macleod. He felt a sense of pride that he couldn’t really understand. Macleod wasn’t any relation to him, and she was far older than he was. He had no right to feel proud of her simply because somebody else saw the same spark, and yet, he definitely did. “Huh…” He knew Macleod had accompanied Metzli to confront the vampires sent by Eloy. Had it been too much for her? Was it possible she was distancing herself? “I haven’t spoken to her in a while, actually… maybe I should message her.” Glancing down at the pendant Metzli wore, he wondered whether it had been given to them by Macleod. He couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. He thought back to the first time he had seen Metzli after their journey, the awful open wound that had been ominously wrapped around their throat. Macleod was the reason they were still alive, probably the reason their head was still attached to their body. A truly terrifying thought. “I’m not going to say anything, Metzli.” It was in his nature to stay out of other people’s drama, especially when there was potential for him to get dragged into it. He knew when to keep his mouth shut, both for somebody else’s sake, and for his own.  

“Hey…” He prompted them to look back up, hoping to dispel any of the awkward embarrassment they were obviously struggling with. It was weird, and confusing, but nothing for Metzli to be ashamed of. “Don’t apologise, okay? It’ll work out… everything will.” He knew he couldn’t promise that, but he so badly wanted his words to be true. Saying them out loud felt good, even if the statement was undeniably shallow. “Oh, Jeez-” A laugh escaped him at the sudden shift in conversation, and he shot his friend an easy grin. “I don’t want to hear it, okay?” He pretended to be horrified by the prospect. “That sounds perfect. Anything to get you to keep your mouth shut.” Climbing off of the couch, he pointedly swiped Twilight from the coffee table, making his way over to the Playstation so that he could slip the disc into the disc drive. He could hear Metzli behind him, getting more comfortable with their blankets, he could hear Yuca padding about the apartment, no doubt planning to join them the moment the movie began. And he could still smell what was left of the blood, the scent thick, and warm, and familiar. Things were complicated, he was beginning to realise they were always going to be complicated. But Metzli was right, the past wasn’t easier just because his problems were different now. He had so many things to be grateful for. As long as he had bad movies, a reliable source of blood, and Yuca, and Metzli, and every other person in his life that he cared for, then things were okay... Things were okay because he was okay. 

[orange-meringue]

Lost And Found Q & A

(The Q&A is here! Yeah, I’m not sure exactly how many of you ended up coming over from AO3, but I’ve decided to do the Q&A for my fic here -sorry to those of you who are uninterested in my writing life, I’ve been really invested in Lost And Found lately. 

The first question was submitted here on Tumblr, and the rest are all from AO3. I hope you’re satisfied with my answers, and if you have any more questions after this or just want some elaboration, please feel free to ask! I’ll add them on in a reblog! 

Anyway, enjoy! I’ll put everything beneath the cut) 

How does Donnie adjust to physical touch/affection in the future?

-Donnie is definitely touch-starved. No way around it. As mentioned in the fic, Draxum, Huginn, and Muninn never really gave him more than a few one-sided hugs, fist-bumps or handshakes. He’d never been fully hugged or held until he met his brothers, and it’s still very weird and new to him. But obviously his brothers (as well as April and Splinter, once you get to know them) are pretty touchy, but a few of them are better at picking up on Donnie’s thing with touch than others. Overtime I feel like they would be able to get him more and more acquainted with things like casual hugs and friendly touch, and the more he gets used to these things, the less they startle him every time. Though I do imagine he has a few relapses in the future (which I do plan to write about) where touch goes back to being startling and scary, and it takes him a day or so to warm back up to it. Mostly good things, though! Donnie truly does love the familial affection, though he’s not likely to admit it

When did the boys prepare Donnie’s room?

I imagine they made his room during the last chapter, after Splinter’s apology and after April and Mayhem left, when everyone began to split up to do their own things. The timeline is a little questionable, but I like to think they had a good hour in there, and most of the materials were already there and ready -the room was likely empty, too, and was acting as some sort of storage room that they never knew what to do with. I tried to make it obvious that they’d been pressed for time and hadn’t been able to do much, hence the hastily made bed frame and why there were only two other pieces of furniture

Will Donnie ever feel comfortable enough to remove his tech around the lair in the future?

I feel that, much like canon Donnie, wearing his tech is a bit of a habitual thing. He doesn’t really see a reason to take it off, even if he’s technically safe in the lair, especially because it was ingrained in him via Draxum that his tech is everything keeping him safe. His tech is his armor and his safety blanket, and even if he knows, logically, he’s not going to be ambushed in the middle of the lair, it’s hard to take it off. Eventually, though, I feel like his brothers help with that. At one point Raph probably starts trying to train him to build strength and muscle on his own so he doesn’t have to rely on his limb clamps, and, as Donnie gets more comfortable with his brothers, he starts feeling relaxed enough to remove his battle shell when lounging around with them

Would Splinter try to bond with Donnie and attempt to form a better connection with him?

Splinter really does love his son and wants to spend time with him! But...uh...as of the story’s ending...he doesn’t know very much about him. He knows he was raised by Draxum to be a soldier and is very good with technology, but other than that...next to nothing. But it’s a great motivator! Splinter 100% wants to know Donnie as well as he knows his other boys, so he pulls out every stop to try and bond with him, making sure not to rush him despite his curiosity and family-oriented nature, because Donnie is currently pretty skeptical of adults (even Splinter) for...obvious reasons. But he wants to get to know Splinter, too, and, yeah, he’s willing to sit through his 5+ hour Lou Jitsu monologues to let that happen

How does Donnie feel about the boys’ future plans to capture oozesquitos and sabotage Draxum? Does he still have conflicted feelings about humans?

After the initial adrenaline and shock of everything subsides, I feel like it was Donnie’s idea to go after the oozesquitos. He probably wakes up in a cold sweat one night remembering oh yeah, Draxum and I unleashed a swarm of carrier bugs upon New York that are set on turning people into mutants and immediately feels the need to remedy his past mistake. So he builds a device to track the oozesquitos, which leads the boys to Big Mama’s hotel, and the rest is history (though slightly different than it was in canon, considering Donnie’s knowledge of Big Mama’s schemes and the Battle Nexus). But in terms of Draxum, Donnie would definitely be far more hesitant about trying to sabotage him. Donnie is still afraid of Draxum, after all -a small part of him feels like everything with his brothers is only temporary, and eventually he’s going to be stuck with Draxum again, and the further on his bad side he gets now, the worse it’s going to be when that does happen. He never directly challenges or fights Draxum whenever they run into him, and if there’s a way to avoid clashing with him altogether, he’ll take it

As for humans, Donnie’s definitely still conflicted about them. It’s been ingrained in him his whole life that humans are evil and selfish- that they forced his whole race underground and that’s the reason they now live in secrecy. And honestly, not even Splinter actually knows if that’s true. So Donnie remains skeptical, but overtime he’s able to do a lot more things around the city without fear of humans. They’re not actually that dangerous, he discovers, and maybe -just maybe- they’re alright. But there’s only one human Donnie grows to fully trust, and that’s April. In his eyes, she’s already proved her loyalty and compassion and, y’know, desire not to out him and his brothers to all of human-kind, not to mention she’s super badass and someone Donnie does not want on his bad side again. She’s a good friend, he realizes. He can definitely understand why she’s part of the family

How much does Donnie know about the Hidden City? Does he know about Big Mama and her hotel? How would the boys’ interactions with Big Mama change with this version of Donnie?

Considering he was raised with Draxum (who is apparently a well-known public figure in the Hidden City) he definitely has a fair amount of knowledge about the place, as well as a few ins and yōkai to go to when he needs something done. He’s very well-known himself, and actually has a reputation as a very intimidating soldier. He’s also well-versed in Big Mama’s tricks, because she and Draxum have done business before and she’s 100% tried to kidnap him for the Battle Nexus (emphasis on tried). Harking back to the question about Donnie’s oozesquito-capturing plan, the episode would definitely go differently with him there. It would be a great Leo and Donnie bonding episode, because neither of them trust Big Mama in the slightest, and Raph and Mikey would be far more cautious around her, though still intrigued by the concept of a mutant hotel and her apparent interest in helping them. But I think Donnie would manage to slip out with Leo before their brothers are captured, then it would be a race with a hilarious amount of arguing until they rescue Raph and Mikey, then everything would likely proceed as normal for the rest of the episode

Is Donnie jealous that April gets to attend school? What would his relationships with the Purple Dragons be like?

Donnie has no idea what school is. He’s heard mention of it in shows he’s pirated, but it isn’t until April comes to him one day complaining about her workload that he asks what she’s talking about. Once she explains it, he’s ecstatic! A place you can go to learn about math, science, history, and any other subject you could ever want? How much does it cost? ...It’s free?! He’s begging April to smuggle him in. She absolutely does not want to deal with that, but Donnie did make her a whole laptop and upgrade her phone a whole bunch, so how can she say no? She agrees to take him the next day, but it doesn’t fully occur to Donnie that the school is crowded with humans until he gets there. He’s on-edge the entire day, and it doesn’t help that he’s a weird green-skinned new kid no one’s ever seen before. I imagine it would be a great chapter for some good old fashioned Donnie and April bonding, and I’m 100% going to write it now, so anything else would be considered a spoiler

As for the Purple Dragons, I imagine their relationship wouldn’t be too different. The Purple Jacket episode would go relatively the same way, though I imagine Donnie would be a little more reluctant to actually join the Dragons, and way more irritating throughout the rest of the episode. But the plot and their feelings toward each other would likely remain the same

Does Donnie still eat bugs?

The whole thing with the bugs is basically...Draxum didn’t know what to feed Donnie as a baby, so he went to a local animal expert who recommended things like fruits, veggies, bugs, etc. So, considering that Draxum’s main priority was rebuilding his lab and he didn’t really have the resources to get food for anyone but himself (and maybe Huginn and Muninn- though they probably stuck to dumpster diving), Donnie’s appetite ended up consisting completely of typical turtle food, and only when he got older did Draxum started adding in things like nutrient bars and protein shakes, just to help him build more strength and muscle. So Donnie never really had anything else before he met his brothers, and it feels weird to him to jump straight from turtle to human food, so he slowly incorporates more of the latter into his diet overtime. He does still eat bugs, though. Splinter started getting him things like bug chips and seasoned bugs to make it less unsettling, but now he just eats those all the time and none of the others care for it. If a live bug happens to get in his way, he definitely won’t hesitate to eat it, and, yeah, sometimes it’s startling and almost made Leo throw up once, but it’s also really helpful if there’s a bug in the lair and none of the others want to deal with it. Donnie has eaten a spider before. The others just pretend it never happened

[spockandawe]

1, 2, 3!

Ooh, let’s see!

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Okay, so I have tabs open for several likely wips where inspiration might strike at any time, but my big focus right now is in the fic I refer to interchangeably as ‘diet bingge’ or ‘bingge lite’. I hit a wall for a little while, but I’m trying to get back into it. This is (one of) my svsss feynite-inspired aus of aus situations. And it’s basically here, because I love all the svsss characters a LOT, and it is remarkably hard to keep them all alive and happy, not in the least because one of my biggest faves (shen jiu) technically dies before he ever appears. Also, I multiship like whoa, and the scope of a jianghu setting intimidates me, so the iwywmh dreamer-in-the-spring-boudoir-based harem setting.... it is a good fit for me.

So! My initial impulse. In the iwywmh “canon” setting, shen qingqiu gets killed by luo binghe, kinda... accidentally. An ‘I didn’t realize my own strength’ situation, after they’ve had a horrible falling out and shen qingqiu’s marriage has been effectively destroyed. My initial impulse was ‘but what if he.... didn’t die, though’

It opens up a really interesting story is what happens!!!

Because, okay. I’m not going to rehash all of the original story’s backstory, because it’s So Much, feynite’s fics and comments are packed full of solid gold. But in this situation, Shen Qingqiu has watched his marriage dissolve out from under him, and he’s heartbroken and furious, and just got framed (partly by binghe) for the death of his husband’s baby-in-progress (with another man). He’s lost everything he valued most. He no longer has a will to live. Binghe, on the other hand, is kinda horrified at what he just almost did, because he hates his shizun, definitely, but also.... shizun is the most important person to him. So with that tweak, I’ve saddled him with a Shen Qingqiu who he just almost killed, who has no will of his own to keep going, and he’s trying to make his way in the world.

Also liu qingge is there, and also shen sha yuan eventually, and they’re all important, but the shen jiu + binghe dynamic is the core of this story for me. Because what happens is that they kind of despise each other, but also.... Shen Jiu accidentally makes Binghe a much, much better person. He’s not nearly as soft as the Binghe of the original fic, but he’s not the Bingge of the original fic either, not by a long shot. And the emotional balance is fraught for some time, and is slow to get more healthy, but my boy gets there! And it’s kind of a situation like the last svsss verse I posted, where I was like ‘wow, I have no idea who will be willing to take this trip with me, but I tripped into a concept I find fascinating, and I hope people will join me’

This is the first story I’ve written in a long time where I’m letting myself diverge sharply from a flowing narrative with the minimum number of povs. I actually have to take like 20k of wip out of second person, because I’ve got like four major povs I need to bounce between constantly (binghe, shen jiu, liu qingge, shen yuan) and one or two side povs I need to flush out other bits of story (shang qinghua and maybe mobei-jun) (outside chance of liu mingyan too, goddd). I just made the decision a few days ago to split this into chapters, so I’d be able to post something soonish, but I did stall out for a while, because the scope is pretty overwhelming. And in the end, I’m not even sure it will work as A Narrative, because I don’t even know how it concludes, but I’m working on making my peace with that XD I’ve got close to 30k in a document, and still ages to go, so I badly want to pull it into a shape I can share, but.... it’s so much story, hahaha XDD

(my document with working notes for this is ‘SHIZUN GET BACK HERE AND GRADE MY FINAL PROJECT’, which also lives in my head rent-free as a working fic title. actually titling this fic is going to be a bear)

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Oh, hmm. I think... If I’m sticking to projects where I actually can picture the scenes in question, I think I’ll have to go with the xuexiao wip that I’m going to return to any day, I swear, where I get into the actual dialog of the humiliation kink. It’s going to be a really interesting emotional balance, which is part of why I’ve been putting it off (I need to be in just the right mood, y’know?), but I’ll be in Xue Yang’s head, and I want to roll around in the way he gets to let loose with his crueler impulses, and the satisfaction that comes with it... plus a side serving of emotional self-harm, because he’s got extremely mixed feelings about making Xiao Xingchen hurt, and this is showing him all the ways he could dig the knife in deeper, which is theoretically what Xiao Xingchen agreed to, but is Xue Yang even enjoying this anymore??? Anyways, I love a good excuse to write top drop. Some of the top drop is written so far, but I’ll have to edit it based on how the scene itself plays out

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Oh my god, I want to write the whole peak lord liu mingyan au, but it’s another one where I don’t have a narrative so much as a whole bunch of sequential moments in a story. But I am COMPLETELY committed to giving Shen Jiu a happier life, and if that means flipping the liu siblings around so that Liu Qingge is Luo Binghe’s peer (and drags him up the hill to Bai Zhan Peak instead of Qing Jing), and they are both shamelessly corrupting Shen Qingqiu’s favorite disciple, Shen Yuan, then... I’ll....... try to do it. Eventually :X If I had to pick a single scene, it would probablyyyy be the aftermath of this version of the abyss (the focus is the shen jiu + liu mingyan frenemyship, but the background is bingliushen)

But also, I want to write the canon version, where people accuse Shen Jiu of creeping on women for violently unfair reasons, and where he’s unfairly blamed for Peak Lord Liu Mingyan’s death in the Lingxi Caves, but now there’s an additional flavor of ‘well I bet she rejected him, and he took his anger out on her’ and he very bitterly doesn’t even try to defend himself, because nobody will believe him anyways. And I want to write the fic itself, where her natural big sister energies are exactly what he needs and can never never never admit out loud, and where she’s a comforting presence that he would never admit to needing. 

I have no idea what this fic would even look like, physically! None at all I want it to just Exist, but it’s looking like I have to write it, which means I need to figure out how to write it, and none of this is fair :’)

[parvuls]

19/54 :)

19 - summer camp / 54 - secret relationship

now. the first thing that came to mind is camp sweetgum. so i’m gonna leave this here in case it strikes your fancy and also because it’s great.

but i’m a sucker for extensive worldbuilding, so let’s settle in for the long haul, kay? this is 1.7k of plot outlining. you can see why it takes me four months to write fics.

eric bittle. age 15. moved to madison for high school, quit figure skating, joined a no contact hockey team. coach is happier but not happy, so he suggests an idea: hockey summer camp. yes contact. it’s in minnesota (coach’s not thrilled about the yankees, but there are no hockey camps anywhere south; he checked), and it’ll give junior an opportunity to meet some kids with similar interests. athletic interests, that is. and there’s still a lake and extracurricular activities, “so it’s just like the camp up by lake oconee, y’know? where the kids braid friendship bracelets and whatnot. except with sports.”

eric is... less enthused. but it’s not actually a suggestion so much as a decision and coach just moved across the state for him because he managed to get himself stuck in a closet overnight (eric’s mindset, at this age, is perhaps not the most healthy), so he says yes.

jack zimmermann. age 20. assistant coached a peewee team for the year and is not ready to spend a third summer in his parents’ house in montréal when all his former teammates from the q are returning home during off-season. his boss tells him about this summer camp in minnesota that’s looking for experienced counselors -- “it’s not a prospect camp, mostly for fun, so the boys there aren’t headed for the league. you should go. talk to some kids above the age of ten.”

jack’s pretty okay with never talking to anyone over ten again, but he’s got no other options and bob starts mentioning going to bonding fishing trips just the two of them, so he send an application.

um. he’s jack zimmermann. he was supposed to go first in the draft. the guy in charge of hiring for the summer probably rubbed his eyes in shock when he saw the email and headed straight to bed because he thought he was delusional from lack of sleep. jack gets the job.

so, like. listen. samwell men’s hockey team? they’re not your usual hockey playing dude bros. eric gets to camp that july and he’s still all long dancer’s muscles from regionals and even lighter weight from usual because he was on a strict diet and he’s got a southern accent and narrow shoulders and he doesn’t like when you slap him on the back. he’s not a hit with the local boys. but you know who does like him immediately? adam birkholtz, who’s off the ushl for the summer and wanted to play some fun hockey and get paid doing it. is it legal? who fucking cares, man.

does eric like adam? uhh. adam is 6′4 and touchy feely and eric’s got undiagnosed ptsd, so. no. but it works out after a while, because adam is relentless and also cannot stand most of the other counselors, and this tiny kid is great.

you can see how it goes: jack does not. get. bittle. it should be mentioned that jack also does not get adam, and adam does not especially like jack, so they stay out of each other’s way, but bittle is in jack’s morning slot. he skates like he was born doing it but every time one of the other players so much as looks in his direction he freezes like a deer. now, this isn’t the ncaa, jack’s got nothing to lose if this kid sucks in hockey, but he also doesn’t make friends and he’s got nothing to do with his day except read (he reads. a lot). and he likes challenges. so he starts paying attention.

the first time he asks eric to stay after morning slot’s over, eric looks so terrified jack’s usual awkward conversation skills reduce him to single-word grunting. but he gets the point across: they’re gonna practice yes-contact. for reasons. eric’s all like, “oh -- oh, no, it’s okay! i’m in a no contact co-ed team, it’s fine, this is a summer thing, really, sir, no need --” and jack’s like, did this kid just call me sir, i am twenty, but is also too awkward to take it back. he’s invested now. they’re gonna practice.

and practice they do. it goes badly before it even remotely starts getting better. eric looks like he’s gonna start crying every time and jack does. not. get him (!!!) but eventually adam finds out and talks to eric about it and encourages him (very, very gently, god, this kid is the shit but he’s definitely got some issues 19-years-old-adam is not equipped to handle) to give it a shot.

and then it does get better. jack likes having a purpose, guiding someone through an improvement process (jack’s therapist, wisely, does not tell him that this is the best thing he could’ve done for himself, because jack is... not there yet). eric (very, very slowly, god, he also should start seeing a therapist) stops fearing every jock who gets near him with the combined effort of adam’s incessant friendly advances and jack’s daily practices, and can even take some checks. gentle ones. but it’s something.

and then summer’s over. eric and adam trade numbers. eric and jack… do not, but jack probably says something like, “eat more protein, bittle,” and eric’s not even that offended, so it’s fine.

guess what? he goes back the next summer. coach is over the moon (he expresses this in a twist of the mustache and a firm shoulder clap). adam is also back, talks a lot about quitting the ushl after his next season and maybe going to college somewhere. jack is back because… uh, well, no one’s really sure why jack is back. he’s going to samwell in early august, right after camp ends. jack tells himself he’s easing himself back into hockey in a low-pressure environment and totally isn’t looking forward to seeing what a year has done to eric bittle.

which is, physically speaking, not a lot, honestly. eric’s firmer now, a lot more thigh and bicep muscles, but still narrow. it’s not collegiate hockey, it’s a high school team, alright? gosh. but he’s less jumpy and smiles at jack when their eyes meet and he’s babbling with adam a lot more than he did last year (they texted all year long, and it was nice having a friend, even if it was long distance), so it’s cool. jack makes him do morning practices again and he flinches less and less. they’re like. friends. maybe. jack hasn’t had any friends in three years and the last one was parse, so he’s a little rusty. it’s not a very traditional friendship.

they part ways again in august, and eric wishes jack good luck in school. jack sticks his hands in his pockets to avoid fiddling with his hat and has no idea how one says goodbye, and like, he’s not gonna keep in touch with this sixteen year old kid in his freshman year of college, okay? so. so. but he’s gonna like -- uh -- miss him. maybe. sorta. don’t tell anyone.

eric hugs him goodbye. jack doesn’t even take both hands out of his pockets to hug back, he’s so shocked.

the year after that, none of them come back. jack’s in college, he just got the c. adam’s getting ready for his freshman year. eric’s over the age limit for camp. it just doesn’t happen.

but the year after that, he gets a hockey scholarship for samwell. and it’s yes contact. and he hasn’t been checked in two years, and last time it was in a controlled environment near a minnesota lake, and he’s scared. and the guy from camp (the one who woke up that morning two years before and realized jack zimmermann indeed wanted to work at their camp) offers him a summer job, counseling skating lessons. and he says yes. for money, and to be ready for a season of real hockey.

also that year, jack’s had a bad season. parse won the cup, and smh didn’t even make it to the frozen four, and he feels shitty about everything. and coaching always made him feel better. so he goes back to camp, for one summer.

let’s set the scene: eric. age 18. taller, stronger, determined. in need of a haircut, but in possession of very short shorts. is headed to a liberal school and finally knows he’s gay and refuses to care about what the other boys think (camp has done wonders for his early mindset development; canon bitty, probably, was not as confident at this point). he’s a counselor now, fellas!

jack. age 23. not taller, yes stronger, has been friends with shitty knight for a year and knows a little more about human interaction (truly a little, but still). is looking to relax for the summer before kicking ass next season (and attracting scouts and joining the nhl and winning three cups before 30 and proving everyone wrong, but. first, relaxing and playing some hockey. jack zimmermann’s version of relaxing is different than other people’s).

they’re sharing a cabin in the counselors area. there are two beds, obviously, this is not that trope, and it’s not even bunk beds, but: they were cabinmates. oh my god, they were cabinmates.

the plot, obviously, follows as one would expect. eric is definitely not a kid anymore, is all tanned skin and strong calves and short shorts, and jack is only human. jack is all firm chest and pale eyes and hideous yellow shoes, and eric is disgusted, but is also only human. and jack is on summer break, and eric is not out yet, and so when they drink some beers one night and make bad attempts at actually braiding some friendship bracelets and jack’s tongue pokes out in concentration and eric bursts out laughing, jack has to kiss him. right? right. It’s not like eric would tell anyone. see closeted reasoning above.

what’s the catch? oh, no, they don’t get caught. they share a cabin! everything’s going swell. it’s just -- jack came there to avoid thinking about his bad season. eric came there to avoid thinking about his upcoming year of collegiate hockey. so… neither of them mentions… captaining the samwell hockey team. or. heading for the samwell hockey team. they talk about literally everything else (country music; undeveloped political opinions; daddy issues; the tv show arthur; american vs. canadian thanksgiving; one very late night conversation about homophobia in pro sports), but not about college. so neither of them knows.

oops?

[jjongleurs]

Supernatural: 6×12 “Like a Virgin”

Okay, so 6x12 “Like a Virgin.” First episode with Sam’s soul back. He feels a bit lonely with Dena having gone to fetch diet-Excalibur from the professor in San Francisco and Bobby giving him the cold shoulder (bc, y’know, soulless Sam tired to patricide his soul away permanently by offing the one good father figure in his life). He prays to Cas, letting him know he’s back.

You wanna know what Cas does? The extremely powerful instrument of Heaven, wavelength of celestial intent, Angel of the Lord Castiel goes in for a hug. And what does Sam, the more well-adjusted brother, do? HE REJECTS A HUG FROM A LITERAL ANGEL. Like, why??? I don’t understand? 

I don’t even know why I’m so hurt over this??? I’m a softie for Cas and he deserves all the hugs he damn well pleases. This poor millennia old entity is having feelings for the first time and he’s readjusting to the humanity that is slowly but surely becoming ingrained into the very core of his previously unfeeling not-soul. He’s learning love and affection and loss through the only humans he really interacts with—the Winchesters. Yeah, not the best teachers on how to be a well-adjusted, healthy human, but come on!!! Sam, the real Sam, not the soulless version of him, prays to him for the first time probably EVER. Not to mention, Cas thought Sam would never wake up after having his tortured, flayed, fresh-out-of-hell soul reinserted into his body. Cas answers his prayer IMMEDIATELY and is so happy to see him that he goes in for a hug! He’s learning to express his love and affection for these humans, and Sam, the more well-adjusted brother, is like... nope. 

Like, EXCUSE ME? We’ve been talking non-stop about how beautiful and sad it is that Cas learned to love and care but also repress his feelings through Dean since 15x18 aired, but he also learned it from Sam!!!

The scene goes a little like this:

Sam: Castiel. Um... I’m back, so if you got a minute...

*wings flap, Cas pops up in front of him*

Cas: Sam. It’s so good to see you alive.

Sam: Yeah. You too.

*Cas goes in for a hug* 

*Sam sits down and deflects*

Sam: Um, look, I would hug you, but—

Cas: —that would be awkward.

Then Sam just goes on to talk about how crazy the past year has been, and Cas lets it slip that he was walking around without a soul. Sam goes along with it and tries to get extra info out of him about what happened in some subtle way.

Like, Cas probably just thought Sam really wanted to see him and say hi after being away for so long! He seemed so happy, in his own new-to-human-emotion way! He was going in for a hug because he cared and because he had been picking up on social cues and it seemed appropriate! It’s what you do when you’ve missed someone! All the Winchesters have ever done before is call when they’ve needed something from him, and he thought this time was different!

In a way, it does start off as a sweet interaction with no ulterior motives, but then Sam just goes on to squeeze information out of Cas. Which, honestly, saying no to the hug and wanting to find out more about what his soulless body was up to in the past year are fair enough! That’s fine! Sam is entitled to all of that! Although he’s the more well-adjusted brother, Sam probably still has trouble with affection and expressing how much he cares about other people.

Knowing all of this still doesn’t hurt me any less though! Cas is trying to figure out how to be a person for the first time. He deserves a damn hug every once in a while! I feel like this set a precedent the same way Dean reminding Cas of personal space all the time did. Cas obviously has feelings he doesn’t understand how to express, a lot of them probably having to do with enjoying being in the proximity of these two humans! That’s probably why he was always too close to Dean, and then he maybe figured out that maybe initiating a hug was more appropriate than standing within a foot of them! But now Sam has shot that down, too. It can all probably be boiled down to John Winchester’s A+ parenting though! Cas realizes that this would be “awkward” and just—stops showing affection in this way, for a bit, if I recall. Dean hugs him in Purgatory in Season 8, but any other time anyone is affectionate towards him other than that until maybe the more recent seasons? It’s if he’s dead or dying.

I’m not mad at Sam, per se, he really did nothing wrong. I’m just sad because Cas deserves a hug after everything he does, They only call him when they need something from him, completely disregarding (within this season) that he’s literally fighting a civil war. All they ever do is ask things from him and never really offer their help or support to him. It’s no wonder he always leaves. Why he makes so many mistakes. Why he sometimes selectively answers prayers. Why he ultimately ends up going off the rails! The Sam and Dean don’t often make him feel wanted. Like family. 

But, really, that’s just the Winchester brand. They don’t know how to show affection, how to ask people to stay, how to let others know that they need them just for the pleasure of having them around! But of course they don’t. Thanks, John Winchester.

[eternalstrigoii]

Tagged by @deathonyourtongue

🍎- Your favourite flavour of pie? I have a tie between pumpkin and rhubarb. (Rhubarb is really my favorite, but I do love pumpkin. Next year, I’d like to get a deep-dish pumpkin pie for my birthday.)

🌷- Favourite flower? Blue dendrobium orchids, aka “ocean breeze” orchids. I plan on getting a tattoo of a stem of them along my forearm eventually. (I called them Wonderland Orchids the first time I saw them. They’re a true fairytale flower.)

🦊- Are you mischevious? I mean....I’m currently working on three Big Feels fics, so. Yeah. I’m gonna need to write you guys a lot of lemon marshmallow fluff to make up for this.

🐻- Ideal bedroom layout? If I could have more space, I think I’d explode. I’m so used to being cramped that if I took furniture out, I think I’d burst.

🌻- Favourite season? See, if you said this during any other year, I’d go “fall, hands down. Always autumn. All the time.” And that’s true! But spring is also nice, and summer is shaping up not to be too bad either. (I LIKE being alive in the universe. I LIKE going outside to wade in the warm, stagnant flood water and get swarmed by shiny, blue dragonflies, and get gently bothered by the big, fuzzy bees because I have purple hair. I’m glad we got a Pandemic Summer, and I’m glad the Fey Thing kept me out in nature where I belong.)

🍋- Lemonade or gingerale? Monster iced tea + lemonade. I’ve subsided on it for years.

🍐- Favourite fruit? Kiwi. I’ve eaten an entire carton of them in one go before. They’re sour when they’re over-ripe, but they’re always so good.

🌿- Favourite smell? I’m a basic bitch over sandalwood, patchouli, and traditional, smoky incense, but my favorite Bath and Body Works candle is something like cinnamon pancakes. It is....hands down the most appealing thing I’ve ever smelled. I refuse to burn it because I love it too much.

🌧- Ideal rainy day inside? Outside. These days, I rarely fail to possess the goblin urge to run outside and stand in the rain when it starts pouring. You’d think I was holed up in the nest of origin for a couple centuries, the way I act. (I blame caving into social pressure when I was young.)

🍬- Sweet or savory? Savory. I shouldn’t have sweets. (Short version is that I gave myself an ulcer between my anxiety and my terrible diet choices when I was in my first year of college and it’s never fully healed. Mostly because I thrive on regrettable amounts of caffeine.)

🔮- Any paranormal experiences? I actually have an EVP from when I went paranormal investigating in the Congress Plaza Hotel in 2014. You can’t hear my footsteps, but the recording has distinct heavy footsteps and the sound of a shutting door.

🦑- What one thing do you really want as a plushie? You don’t get to hear me say the dark fey. I’ve outgrown that. But if they did come out with collector figures like they did for Charley The Asset in TSOW, I’d lose my shit.

🗻- Ideal travel location? For a very long time, it was Romania. I’ve always wanted to do the Dracula tours. Y’know, Trad Goth Things. But I’m getting more and more sold on needing to take a Big Nature Road Trip first. All the national parks, all the biomes, beaches, deserts, mountains. (Romania has 40% of Europe’s wild wolves, did you know? I think I’d have to ignore the tour to go watch some bears snuffle around in a meadow.)

tagging: @raointean (if you desire to do it, dear), @blackolivejuice, @billywig-on-baker-street, @biganddrunkunicorn, @fight4ourown

[im-just-trying-to-survive-man]

ok so i feel like telling the world my bias list (kpop) for no reason and i was a little scared to but oh well lol

im gonna do this in parts. this list is my bias’ in boygroups pt.1

soo yeah if you wanna see some beautiful asian men you can keep reading lol

kinda turned out long oop

imma do nct on another post bc thats fucking loonngggg

1. kim hongjoong; stage name: hongjoong (leader of ateez, rapper, lyricist, producer and composer (i forget if those are the same thing) )

king of the lesbians

personally i think hes SOME type of gay but, y’know, you do you baby (’good lil boy’ is the song he wrote on their new album akjsdl)

prince of mullets in kpop (king is minghao from seventeen)

so?? pretty???

he paints his nails for the polished man campaign!!! (this was before the group became ambassadors.) v socially aware as well

his voice is very high for a rapper but i rly love it

wanna hear what he thinks of atinys?? (the fandom) listen to ‘aurora’

korean big minion 

very very good at english, despite what he says

is so caring for his ‘children’ ugh such an amazing leader

also a little brat sometimes but we dont talk about it

a MAN

fuck gender roles

5′7 skirt guy you’ve probably heard of in the kpop tiktok community

the official campaign pic:

2. han jisung; stage name: han (main rapper of stray kids, lead vocalist, producer and composer, lyricist, ult bias uwu)

heres the tea

this man literally saved my life

he has been through so much and i relate to that. seeing that he made it through the worst gave me hope.

his music and lyrics just speak to me (wanna see me cry? send me the song ‘19′, its written by him)

on to the happier things

his s q u i r r e l   c h e e k s

hes honestly so pleasing to look at ugh

vocals????? fricking great???? listen to ‘hellevator’ and ‘district 9′ for his vocals

jEoGiYa NoOnA HoKsI nAmJaChInGu IsSeOyO (’wow’ 3RACHA)

part of 3RACHA, a rap group between him and two other members

his american name is peter and he loves nat geo wild and cheesecakes and honestly if thats not amazing idk what is

lived in malaysia??? for 6 years???? lovin the melanin y’all

THE FUNNIIEST MAN ALIVE Y’ALL WAIT PLEASE WATCH THIS VIDEO IDK WHY BUT ITS SO FUNNY TO ME

3. im changkyun; stage name: I.M. (lead rapper of monsta x, sub-vocalist, maknae (the youngest), producer and composer)

fam im WHIPPED for this man like honestly i dont like subbing or sex in general lol ace things but i’d let him r a i l me

lived in america for 3 years and israel for 4; speaks fluent english and its SEXY

rapping skills??? on point???? both in english and korean ugh

LOOK AT HIM HIS DIMPLES AND HIS FACE AND UGH

is one of those people that does n o t like to be touched but then he’ll kiss your cheek out of nowhere

babie

VERY SOCIALLY AWARE LIKE HE SAID FUCK TOXIC MASCULINITY AND MISOGYNY 

confident in his own skin and super open about it

“For IM, ‘Wearing a harness is just to express our song concept. Showing the audience what we want to show is the most important thing. We’re not ashamed. We’ve done a lot of sexual items, like harnesses and chains. We’re comfortable.’ “ 

“But, for argument’s sake, where does your own sense of masculinity come from? IM pauses for a long moment. ‘Having a dick,’ he says bluntly, sipping coffee as his bandmates’ jaws drop and shocked laughter ripples around the table.”

that interview is here 

kinky lil bitch

i can go on and on about this man but im just gonna stop there

i lied he has tattoos (one on his wrist [ :): ] and the one on the nape of his neck, it reads “the one who wants to wear the crown must bear the crown”)

i like this picture bc its his hands and theyre pretty and fuck gender roles from a kpop idol

thats enough of him 

4. kim wonpil; stage name: wonpil (pianist, synthesizer, and keyboardist in day6, lyricist, vocalist, also a a dj and mc for a podcast)

Y’ALL LOOK AT HIM UGH

was the maknae but then dowoon came along and now hes not lol

Unbothered™

honestly like hes such a good pianist and is really great on the keys

is really good at making song lyrics out of thin air

like, he can hear the sentence “i really want chicken rn but i can’t have it im on a diet” and he’ll get “i crave your taste, but there is a wall i built myself blocking you from my love” like literally

im pretty sure he wrote the chorus for their song ‘zombie’

honestly bruh his vocals are so good

like pls go listen to ‘emergency’ and ‘congratulations’ (theres an english version for that song alsjdk)

guys hes just a big babie honestly

so pretty to look at omg

HES SO FUNNY AND HE DOESNT EVEN KNOW IT 

“i dont really care what my spouse looks like or what gender they are, as long as we’re happy and they love me” (wish i could find that photoset)

5. kim namjoon: stage name: RM (leader of bts, main rapper, sub-vocalist, lyricist, producer and composer)

literally the reason im into kpop, so thank you namjoon

a 5′11 babie, tbh

i remember finding out he had his own like, mixtape (’mono.’) and iT WAS SO GOOD AND IT STILL IS KAJHDJ

an amazing rapper and leader

can sing and i do not CARE what anyone says

so as you can see by now i kinda of have a type (except wonpil, idk wtf is going on there with me biasing him laksjk #no regrets)

anyway yeah he was the first kpop boy i found, and it was on his birthday

so every year on september 11th 11:50 p.m., i start i planting a tree in my backyard (bc then its on his birthday in america and korea lakajs so quirky i know) also bc its the day i started listening to kpop so its an anniversary for me lol. 

mOoNcHiLd

very very psychological

also very inspiring and loving (to the fans)

doesn’t really show affection, hes better with words than actions, and i really relate to that

dimples aGAIN

and last but not least for this list bc its already so frickin long

6. byun baekhyun; stage name: baekhyun (main dancer of exo, main singer, sub rapper, pianist, actor)

he’s so talented???? and amazing???? and overall just kinda perfect??????

AMAZING FUCKING VOCALS LIKE Y’ALL GO GO GO GO GOGOOG OG LISTEN TO HIS GROUPS SONG ‘ONE (MONSTER AND INFINITY)′ BECAUSE THAT SHIT SLAPS UGH

AND LIKE GROWL??? BRO????? MY VOCAL CORDS SNAPPED

dated another idol in the past but personally i think he’s a little *hand goes limp* if you know what i mean

my sister (4) calls him bacon he said it in an interview one time and it stuck to her

chesticles

MONSTER ERA UGH GOT ME DEAADDDD

is a solo artist too!!!!!!! go listen to his albums!!!! theyre really good!!!!

hes so frickin funny omg like i can laugh at with him all day

understands english but refuses to speak it

honestly kokobop baek was amazing idc what anyone says

is in like 3 different groups damn (like two of them are sub-units of his group and the other one is superm lol)

pls go watch the ‘men on a mission’ episodes with exo bc hes so fucking hilarious i will never get over it

a clown ass bitch that is always ready to square tf up a caring and v nice person that wont fight anyone ever

AN AMAZING ACTOR OMMGGGG BABIE GOT SKILLS

can also tapdance

lots of video games

very very very very very loud when playing video games

another man i endlessly love

well. if you made it this far, congrats!!! and thanks!!! i honestly dont care if no one sees this lol i just kinda wanted to do it, so, yeah lol. theres still more groups (superm, nct (seperate post), seventeen, vixx, pentagon, the rose, annnd oneus)then like idk if i’ll do a soloist one, so yeah. this kinda gives me something to do its one big infodump and im sorry lmao. yeah, love y’all !!!

[biologyweeps]

hi owlet! i'm researching liver health and saw a website selling N-Acetyl Cysteine supplements, which is what they gave me in the ICU when i accidentally overdosed on a LOT of tylenol. my question: is it healthy or effective to take NAC as a preventative measure for liver health? I thought it was only administered by medical professionals in specific cases (acetaminophen poisoning, some lung conditions). i also found this: healthlinedot comslash nutritionslash nac-benefits. ty, have a good week!

Link

Taking medication ‘preemptively’ is only something to be done in very specific cases, and under medical supervision. You wouldn’t preemptively take aspirin just in case you get a headache. 

For one, NAC when taken orally (please tell me people AREN’T setting up their own IVs with this…) has side effects like nausea and vomiting, which is ok if someone’s ill and needs it, but inflicting it on healthy person for no reason at all is bullshit. Plus, there’s a reason risk of anaphylactic reactions, which is y’know, bad. Those seem mostly tied to IV applications, but then again, oral NAC is used less because the bioavailability isn’t great, and as mentioned it has a tendency to make people spit it right back up which makes it a bit useless.  So I’m not quite sure if the statistics look as they do because the IV version is genuinely more likely to give you anaphylaxis, or if that’s just the version you’re much more likely to see when people get smacked with high-dose NAC. 

In case of paracetamol poisoning, it works by specifically allowing your liver stop a metabolic product (N-acetyl-p-benzoquinone imine, NAPQI) to stop accumulating and thus damaging your liver cells. The thing is, if you don’t artificially deplete your body glutathione stores, your liver doesn’t need the help. Do note how the list mentions conditions that are actually a problem, not ‘Take this if you’re healthy’.

If you read the article, you note a lot of use of ‘it may’ and ‘Test tube studies’. That means, studies down in-vitro, aka The Petri Dish Cell Culture. The in vitro study has a place in medical research, but taking them and saying ‘therefore use in humans is the same!!’ is bullshit. A ell culture does NOT behave like the actual organ, never mind a full organism. Say, for example, you’re testing on cancer cells, the med you’re using may well kill them. It may also kill every other cell in your body. 

The same is true for mice models. Mice models are important!! but they’re not transferable to humans 1:1 because the human and the mouse metabolism aren’t identical so you should be progressing with caution when reading them. 

GENERALLY, AGAIN,this is a medication. Taking medication on a ‘hey what if’ basis without anyone checking if it’s actually needed is a horrible idea. Talking to your doc and getting a prescription is one thing, but taking it as a regular ass supplement for no reason other than ‘might do something good for you’. Especially if that something is ‘hey we should fuck with liver metabolism and hope this doesn’t somehow end horrible’ especially if we’re talking about the potential long term use we’d be looking at with something used as a dietary supplement. 

I am generally VERY skeptical of things sold as ‘supplements’. Broadly speaking, the evidence is often weak for the myriad of things promised, depending on where you live and/or buy your supplement, the control of these items can be weak to non-existent so you may not get what you paid to begin with (or best: you get a placebo. at worst: you get something actively dangerous). Many a supplement is also not needed and can be skipped entirely if you have a balanced diet. By all means, if you have an actual lack of something or condition where it is beneficial is one thing, but even then, you should buy from reputable sources only. 

[linzerj]

Golden Gate’s Heroes -c2

Yo so i finally finished part 2! Sorry it took so long but the dialogue really threw me off and i’m still not sure i’m happy with it. also I’m bad at writing and updating consistently so. uh. yeah please don’t get your hopes up for a speedy update i’m sorry. also sorry about the lack of venom i really just gotta rewatch the movies when i get the chance 

So after that first awkward babysitting thing where they discovered ‘oh hey you have a secret identity I have a secret identity too’, Eddie and Scott met up a grand total of three times. Two of those times were just Eddie babysitting Cassie again, because Cassie really liked him and Venom and they weren’t going to say no to that adorable kid. The first of those times was really just Eddie and Cassie hanging out again, this time at Eddie’s much-less-nice apartment. They did arts and crafts while Cassie asked Venom questions about themself, and throughout the evening Venom slowly acquired more and more glittery cut-out crowns and ribbons. They looked absolutely ridiculous, but it made Cassie happy and Eddie thought it was cute, and so they tolerated the decorations.

The second time, Scott actually invited Eddie out to dinner with him and Cassie after babysitting. It was a bit awkward, but as Eddie recalled stories from his time on The Eddie Brock Show and Scott told him stories about life before and after prison, they found more and more common ground. By the end of it, they weren’t best friends per say, but a lot of the awkwardness and tension had definitely faded down.

The third time they met up, Cassie was still there because she was great at keeping them from being too awkward and weird, but Eddie met them at Pier 39. It was just a casual time hanging out, really, but as they talked in hushed tones about Scott’s experiences as Ant-Man and how Eddie and Venom were still learning to be a functional ‘we’, Eddie figured he would definitely call Scott a friend.

Which was definitely a good thing, given his only other friends were Anne and Dan, and while they were great it was still weird to hang out with his ex-fiancée and her super nice doctor boyfriend sometimes.

Eddie figured he should introduce Scott and Cassie to Anne and Dan sometime. They’d be so proud that he had managed to make new friends, even if one of them was still only a kid who liked giving Venom flower crowns.

But first, he apparently had to meet Scott’s new girlfriend and her parents, the people who gave Scott the Ant-Man suit.

“Dude come on,” Scott was saying. This was now the fourth time they were talking face-to-face, once again after Eddie had babysat Cassie. “They’re super nice, I swear.”

“Man, I still…we still don’t know.” Eddie sighed, scrubbing his face.

“Cassie will be there if that helps, my dude.”

“I mean.” Eddie made a vague gesture. “I guess? But still.”

“Is this about not wanting to make a bad first impression, because believe me, they won’t care that much. I mean they still like me, so.”

Eddie just leveled an unimpressed look at Scott, to which Scott shrugged. “Alright so I may have also mentioned you once or twice to Hope and Hank and Jan and now they really want to meet you.”

“Dude you are the worst. Just give it a bit longer, okay?”

And the conversation effectively ended, at least for a while.

---

As much as Eddie was trying to avoid other superheroes or people who might want to tear them apart, neither he nor Venom were going to say no to Cassie’s birthday party.

We’re going to get cornered here you idiot, Venom was hissing into Eddie’s brain.

“Yeah but it’s Cassie you asshole. You really gonna say no to her?”

…no…

“So we’re sucking it up and finally doing this,” Eddie said, knocking on the door to Scott’s place. They were immediately greeted by their grinning friend.

“Hey, you made it! Cool cool, c’mon in!”

And it was normal, for a bit. Scott’s ex and her new boyfriend reminded Eddie of Anne and Dan a bit, but they didn’t pry about anything – either because they didn’t know or didn’t care. Eddie didn’t know which it was but was grateful either way.

He tried to distract himself with cake (lots of cake, chocolate cake, the best kind of cake, especially if you asked Vee), but was more than well aware of a man and two women watching with mixed looks of curiosity and anxiety from another corner of the room. They were distracted enough by Cassie too, but as the party began to wind down, guests left, and Cassie’s mom took her home, Eddie was left with Scott and the staring trio.

“Well,” Eddie said, directed mostly to Scott, “this was great, thanks for the invite, I’ll just get out of your hair now—“

“Actually, we’ve been waiting to talk to you,” the younger of the two women said, and Eddie groaned internally. He could feel Venom stirring beneath his skin, curious but also ready to protect them if needed.

“Uh, Eddie, that’s my girlfriend Hope, and her parents Hank and Janet,” Scott interjected, seeming as nervous as Eddie felt. “Guys, this is Eddie.”

“Brock, yeah,” Hank said. “Nice work taking down Drake. I knew there was something fishy going on with him but we were a bit distracted during that whole fiasco of yours.”

“Uh, thanks?” Eddie was fairly certain that was not the correct response, but it got a chuckle out of Janet, so that was fine, he supposed.

“But there is the issue of you having been – fused, or bonded, or whatever, with one of those alien symbiotes Drake was experimenting on,” Hope stated, and next to her Scott bit his lip. “The reports you gave after the incident state that you lost it, or it burned in the explosion, but there have been some reports of a large dark figure throughout the city since then – one that occasionally eats its targets. And then Scott told us about you starting to babysit for Cassie, and at the same time he started showing reluctance over tracking down the giant maneating creature. So, anything to add, Mr. Brock?”

“Hope I told you to go easy on him,” Scott muttered as Eddie blinked, and Janet rolled her eyes.

“She takes after her dad,” she said, and Hank looked affronted. But, still.

They know, Venom was hissing in his head, but their emotions were confused, unsure of if they should trust Scott’s friends, or if they should just eat them all.

Not really, Eddie thought back. From what she said, Scott never said anything specific, they all just put the pieces together on their own, and he’s trying to make everything better for us.

Hm. Cassie may like them, and Scott is okay, but still. Don’t know about what they want.

Yeah, well, let’s see, shall we? Out loud, he asked, “What if what I said isn’t true?”

“Well, legally speaking, you’d fall under the Sokovia Accords, like my daughter and this idiot here,” Hank said. Eddie was a bit offended on Scott’s behalf at the idiot comment. “If that alien is still bonded to you, you’d count as an enhanced individual, and if you were going out fighting crime and whatnot on your own, you’d be in direct violation of the Accords.”

“That’s fair. The Accords were put into place with the intention of protecting the general public, even if the first draft was rushed and had lots of loopholes that could be exploited. The current version is more sound and willing to work with the individuals who work under it. But it also requires that anyone who signs the Accords be drafted as an official Avengers member, which, y’know, some people might want to help, but they might not want to be in the spotlight like that, and just stick to what they’re doing.” This, Eddie could do. He was a reporter, after all; he’d covered the story of the original Accords, and the little ‘civil war’ that had followed it. He’d read the documents when they first came out, even if he’d had to have Anne explain the finer points and legalese to him back then. And then with Venom, he’d read the newest draft.

It wasn’t a bad thing, certainly, but they had agreed that they didn’t want to be part of the Avengers. They weren’t cut out for big-time heroics like that, and such a spotlight would make their occasional diet of humans even harder to hide, or justify.

But. Scott had proven he was willing to overlook that stuff after Eddie and Vee had explained that it was an essential part of their diet, their survival. And these people were still involved with ironing out the Accords, and could probably put in a good word on their behalf if they were nice and cooperated. But that was a risk they weren’t sure they were willing to take, at least not yet.

Janet interrupted their thoughts. “That’s why we’re working with Tony and the Accords Panel to add more amendments for people like that. We are also trying to include people who maybe go a bit too far with their vigilantism, who have killed to protect others. Right now the Accords Panel doesn’t think those types of people should be allowed unless they change completely, stop killing altogether, but even the original Avengers members had killed – look at the Black Widow and Hawkeye, for example. They both had impressive kill counts working for SHIELD, and the Widow, at least, has continued to use lethal force since joining the Avengers.”

“She’s an outlier though, Jan, we talked about that,” Hank cut in. “She’s a Russian assassin-“

“What does her being Russian have to do with anything, Hank, don’t let old grudges cloud your judgment we’ve talked about this-“

“Anyway,” Hope said, rolling her eyes at her parents, “The earlier you join, the more … uh, forgiving the Accords Panel will be about any … less than savory things you may or may not have done while trying to protect the planet, the town, your loved ones, or just yourself.”

“That’s still assuming I have the alien, though,” Eddie pointed out, trying not to laugh. Venom was snickering in the back of his mind, swirling around his body, and very much enjoying this game of cat and mouse.

Scott was looking between everyone with nervous eyes. Hank was just staring at Eddie with a kind of blank expression of disbelief; Janet was smiling conspiratorially; and Hope rolled her eyes with a huff. “Yeah, of course.”

“When you assume you make an ass out of you and me,” Scott blurted, and that, at least, earned a chuckle from Hank.

“Scott,” Hope started, but Eddie cut her off.

“Well, look, I’d love to continue this chat, but I actually have stuff to do for my job, so…”

“Yeah, man, let me show you out,” Scott said, clapping Eddie on the back and steering him toward the door. “Sorry about them,” he said in a lower, quieter tone. “I didn’t say anything but they can put two and two together and they can also be super persistent.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie said, even though it didn’t really feel fine. “It was probably going to happen sooner or later anyway. Talk to you later, man.” And Eddie and Venom made their escape.

--

It was another few weeks until Eddie and Venom saw Hope van Dyne again. They hadn’t forgotten about the conversation with her and her family, per say, just… been sufficiently distracted to let it fall to the wayside.

But having Scott walk in with Hope at the end of a day of babysitting Cassie was, well. Unexpected, to say the least. Venom, who had been providing helpful commentary to Cassie as she colored and was wearing no less than 3 flower crowns, made an attempt to duck back into Eddie before being spotted, but it was too little too late.

Hope, for her part, just leveled an unimpressed and expectant stare at Eddie, who just grinned sheepishly back. Scott, bless his innocent self, took one look at both of them and then ignored them in favor of flopping onto the floor next to Cassie and admiring her drawings. Cassie just tossed one of the dropped flower crowns at Eddie and giggled when it landed on his shoulder.

“We, uh, I… can explain?” Eddie said. Scott just shook his head.

“No you can’t.”

“Yeah no I probably can’t.”

“To be fair, I knew from the minute Scott started slipping up that something was amiss,” Hope said, “but you acting a bit weird at Cassie’s party was what really gave it away.”

“So, uh, are you gonna arrest us or something, then? Cuz like, you probably… don’t wanna do that.”

“No, you’re fine,” Hope said. “Although you probably don’t believe that, and I can understand why. But, look, if Scott trusts you, I’m willing to give you a chance.”

Everyone else blinked. “Really?” Scott asked, lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Aw, Hope! You’re the best!”

“And you’re adorable, Scott. Anyway,” Hope continued, turning back to face Eddie, “you and your alien friend or whatever should very much consider reading and signing these.” And with a flash, a huge stack of papers materialized – no, grew – in front of them.

“The freaking Accords?” Eddie snorted. “Dude, I have read them-“

“I’m aware, it’s a legal thing, your ex is a lawyer so I’m sure you understand.”

Eddie made a disgruntled sound. “We really don’t want to be an Avenger,” he said finally.

“Aw, but you guys are a hero!” Cassie piped up, finally tuning back in to the adult conversation. Eddie flashed her a grateful smile, and because they adore Cassie, Venom poked a small head out from Eddie’s shoulder to give her a toothy grin.

Scott gave them an encouraging thumbs up from next to Cassie, and even Hope looked – bemused, perhaps, at all of this. But, still. “We have, uh. Y’know.”

“Eaten people? Yeah, you’re the new local cryptid,” Hope said. “But as has been said, plenty of the Avengers have killed for one reason or another. Whatever, people will deal with it. Also, if you do sign, it’s not like you’re going to be required to move back to NYC or anything – look at Scott and myself, we’re still here.”

“Yeah but they probably will make him go out for an orientation or initiation or whatever they called it,” Scott piped up.

Eddie, Vee said into Eddie’s brain, we know we are reluctant, but also… we should give it a try. We could be better than ever! And we can meet many other superheroes too, get more friends. Eat them if they try to hurt us.

Eddie sighed. “We’ll think about it and get back to you, okay? That’s all I can promise right now.”

---

It wasn’t even a week before Eddie was giving Hope and Scott their signed copy of the Accords.

[goodguidanceptc]

Ironman New Zealand Race Report  March 2, 2019

Welcome masochists and insomniacs. When people ask me about my races, I usually try to deliver a balance of facts (split times, data, total race time) and feelings (mind & body perceptions, key moments) in an entertaining yet succinct report. As usual, that often means STRONG LANGUAGE. Here goes:

Prologue:

A few weeks prior to the trip, I learned that I’d been selected for the “Ironman New Zealand Experience,” an online contest, administered with typical Kiwi approach by the local council. Read: relaxed, with ZERO Ironman lawyers involved. Six men and six women were selected--based on online posts--to learn a haka, perform at the athlete dinner and attend an after-race luncheon that included a presentation and performance of Maori history and traditions. 

I suspect my "pick me! pick me!” post got me plucked from a small applicant pool. Supporting evidence: of the twelve selected, two others were my training buddies from Chicago, Christine B. and Bernie Mc. SIDE NOTE: Each winner was allowed one additional guest at the luncheon--so a very special thanks to Christine for graciously counting my wife as her guest which meant I had both my wife and son at the luncheon.

Haka is Maori for “breathe fire.” Historically, hakas were performed by Maori warriors prior to battle. These days they are performed ceremonially to celebrate major milestones (marriage, retirement), honor important guests or--perhaps most notably--to intimidate opponents at athletic events (here’s a link). Outside of New Zealand, the most famous and awe-inspiring hakas are performed my the Maori All-Blacks National Rugby team prior to each match. 

I learned that there are hundreds of haka versions, each with its own inherent weight baked into the story it’s presenting. Although it was very different than the aggressive, male-only, pre-battle version the All-Blacks perform, I personally felt a tremendous honor and reverence for the one we learned.

The haka preserves indigenous culture, energetically injects traditional language into a modern forum, gathers and channels group energy by seamlessly melding ritual gesture and movement with raw emotion. It all adds up to a sum greater than it’s parts that’s simultaneously respectful and rebellious. Taken as a whole, the haka is something like how the Incredible Hulk would dance if the Incredible Hulk danced.

All of which is just to say that before I even started the race, I’d already experienced that tremendous joy that comes with receiving an unexpectedly perfect gift. IMNZ was already a success before the race even started. Now, let’s get back to facts...

Total race time = 11:33

Not a PR, but a mature result. “Mature?” you may be wondering, “Really?” Granted, few people would describe anything I do as mature, so perhaps a better word is un-deluded. Why? Because plantar fasciitis made for a “No-Run November” (all long runs performed in a pool), I hadn’t done enough resistance training, and winter holidays not only make it impossible to train, they make it nearly impossible to fuel properly. 

In his book, Elite Minds, Dr. Stanley Beecham suggests giving yourself a W when you trained your best and an L if you didn’t. My record for this training sequence (Nov-Feb) was 89-20-11. ( I gave myself T for Ties on days when training went right but something else went bad...usually diet.) In other words, a respectable-but-not-stellar W average (.741) earned a respectable-but-not-stellar result.

But still, the haka was awesome.

Pre-Race

Slept well. Ate well. No mechanical issues. Huddled briefly with most of the training buddies and Iron sherpas prior to warming up properly in the water.

Swim (1:06 total swim time)

Clear sighting, aggressive line, good tactics (drafted when possible), and even got some help from the current towards the end. That said, the two turn buoys at the far end were both a raucous scrum. First time I ever took a hard shot to the lip. My best swim ever. 

T1 (7:49)

"T1 is a 400 meter run from the swim out...” My ass. If that’s 400 meters, I’m Leslie Jones from SNL. Plus, AFTER the “400 meters,” a winding grass staircase comparable to any third-floor-walk-up or Wisconsin helix--easily another +50 meters at an +8% grade.

Once I did get up Mount Metric Bullshit, I moved right along. Sprayed on some sunscreen, stuffed a plastic bag under the regular bike jersey with some light gloves (in case it was nippy for the first hour), shoes on in the tent. Go.

Bike (5:38, technically a bike PR)

Two loops. Windy? A tad. The outbound tailwind was so strong, I struggled to maintain target watts. Get that? I didn’t have to pedal as hard as I’d trained to because I was easily traveling +20 mph on flat sections. Ditched the plastic bag and gloves at the first aid station because it was sunny and mild and I was feeling really great. Of course, logic dictates that inbound would be a shitstorm. Which it was. Oy. Mixed with some crosswinds too just in case you, oh I dunno...tried to pee on the bike and took too long...or wanted to take in some nutrition. Nasty. I caught myself using a bastardized mantra from IMAZ, “Frontside fast side, backside strong side” which morphed into “Out bound, throw down; In bound, get down.” whenever I was tempted to chase or draft.

A word on drafting: it’s illegal in Ironman races. BUT! By slipping into the draft zone of somebody passing faster than you are passing then letting them go, you can save energy and still stay within the letter and spirit of the rule. That said, 12 meters = 6ish bike lengths so don’t be the fucko that lingers.

Repeated that song and dance inbound on both loops. It’s a terrible thing when you can’t stay in aero-position because you gotta pee but can’t pee because the wind stuffs any momentum you need to keep your leg straight long enough to break the seal. But it WILL keep you legal.

For you data geeks: Normalized Power was 197 but I AVERAGED 20 m.p.h.

Another notable: the bone-shaking chip-seal they use to pave most New Zealand roads. It just rattled my whole rig from pedals to fingertips to helmet. That shit literally rattled my Torpedo bottle right out from between my aero-bars about halfway through. I’d already taken in the nutrition so I left it (apologies to all the Tidy Kiwis and the whole leave-it-like-you-found-it philosophy) and just held fresh bottles in with my thumbs as needed.

T2 (4:13)

Efficient but could have been a tad quicker. At this point in the race, I was on plan, feeling good and ready to attack the run. Nutrition was on point. Legs were solid, stomach was a non-issue and weather conditions were near ideal. Sunny and delightful low 70s. I was actually looking forward to Run Special Needs where I’d planted a fresh shirt and an extra bottle of nutrition.

Run (4:36 aka: avg 10:39/mi)

I went sub-4 hours in Louisville under raining mid-40 degree conditions. If I could have just matched that, I’d have delivered a juicy PR of under 11 hours.

It seemed reasonable that flat IM-LOU shitstorm would vaguely equate to hilly IM-NZ sunny delight, yes? 

No.

That three loop run over what my training bro Andrew T. would call offensive hills was having none of that nonsense. Turns out, I was woefully undertrained. My legs were just not up to the second and third loop of hills, despite biking to plan, executing nutrition properly, and taking the first loop at a very easy RPE.

In past reports I’ve shared some of the actual mental chatter that runs through my head but in this case none of my mantras were very interesting or helpful. What I have learned to do when I’m truly falling apart is to reinvest in technique. Focus on the extremely immediate present, which I used to counter punch one particularly angry and persistent neg that I just couldn’t shake. See if you can pick it out of the following scientifically gathered brainwave transcription:

...chatter-chatter-chatter...BREATHE...left-right-left-right-Toe-off-knees-up-hands-up-lean-easy-at-the-ankles-glutes-tucked-somebody-fucking-LIED-to-me-goddamBREATHE!-Toe-off-knees-up-hands-up-lean-easy-at-the-ankles-glutes-tucked-somebody-fucking-LIED-to-me-goddamnit-Toe-off-left-right-left...chatter-chatter-chatter...BREATHE

On a slightly more-vulnerable note, I will share this: typically, a few tears leak out at special needs. Hormones? Pain? Mental breakdown/relief that the marathon is half over? All of the above, probably. Just a few moments of a grown man losing it. (Do NOT watch Ricky Gervais’ After Life while jet lagged. But DO watch it. Amazing. Shut up. Don’t judge my process.)

Anyway, I was all business during the Special Needs of this run but lost it right after a particularly steep descend where some guardian bros had set up an “unofficial aid station” consisting of Red Bull, handles of vodka, and liters of Jaegermeister. A runner just ahead of me had grabbed something off their card table and their robust cheering were suddenly horrific screams warning him off of chugging it. I was just tickled and toasted at the same time and it all came gushing out. Just all kinds of quads burning gasping ugly face craughing (learned that word from a tweet praising After Life, btw). Of course my male ego would NEVER allow me to overly express vulnerability in front of the drunken bros, thoughtful though they were. So I kept running. A woman running along side me kindly asked if I was okay, I said, “Oh...yeah...this...just happens,” between gulping breaths, “The good...news...is...it’s much...later...than usual.” Which cracked her up, so... y’know, pay it forward.

After slogging my way through the third loop, and making my way through the finishing chute, where the normally incomparable Mike Reilly butchered my last name, I was told that I’d been on the leaderboard during the bike and immediately fell off during the run.

So even though I did not over-bike, I did under-train. Plus, I did not need to go directly to Medical in shock, which suggests that my race plan, nutrition strategy and execution was pretty spot on. IMAZ was a PR of 11:19 and IMNZ was 11:33.

OVERALL RACE GRADE: C. Just a C. 

OVERALL EXPERIENCE GRADE: A+

As with prior races, IMNZ yielded some incremental improvements. As I said at the top, this was a mature result, with which I am unsatisfied. I haven't yet done my best race. I haven’t yet DONE MY BEST. There is clearly opportunity for improvements to all five aspects of my racing:

Swim was well executed. Still room for growth.

Bike was properly executed. Adequate. If anything, I could have pushed more.

Run. Ugh. Time to throw myself into Runner’s World and CARA and make like Forrest Gump and Prefontaine and Mo. Also, back to Hokas. Or maybe Altras. The Brooks I ran in were farts. The blisters on my toes had blisters. Not kidding.

Fuel strategy and execution was on point, although I was a few kilos heavier than previous races. Holidays and too few resistance training sessions.

Transitions were adequate.

Am I one of the guys at the pointy end of the bell curve? Clearly still yes. Maybe I’ve just evolved beyond a standard group training plan. Self-Coach? I’ve got the credentials and experience. Back to a previous coach? Maybe a new coach? I’d take some applications. Yes.

In the meantime, I’ll see you in Chattanooga for some 70.3 action in May, 2019. That’s only two build cycles. Ima go noodle around in TrainingPeaks.

WAIT. HERE’S THE BERNIE STORY...

Bernie McNally is one of those people I am just glad to have in my life. This race report would be wholly inadequate if I didn't share how this amazing woman is absolutely unstoppable.

First, she got everybody who trained for New Zealand (at Well-Fit) a fleece.

I forgot to mention she broke her ribs in a bike accident a few months ago.

Then, in what can only be described as the luck of the Irish, she charmed her way into the “New Zealand Experience” haka class. Just showed up and got in. Turns out one of the women selected didn’t show up. Classic.

Here’s the unstoppable part: at around Mile 110 of the New Zealand Full fucking Ironman race, she hit a cone and went over her bike handle bars. Road rash up her arm, split her knee open and cracked her head/helmet on a curb. A bystander said, “Do you need some help? I’m calling an ambulance.”

Her reply?

“Just help me get my chain back on.”

So he did. And she finished the bike. The medics in T2 told her she needed stitches.  She said she didn’t have time, to just patch her up so she could get on with it. She finished the race with half an hour to spare. Words fail.

All I know is this: whenever I’m feeling like I can’t get it done--and it can be anything from driving in traffic to folding laundry to a holding pace on a long run--I know exactly what I’ll hear. 

A thick, sassy, Irish brogue doing the haka.

WITH GRATITUDE FOR…

I’m very grateful to my lovely wife Susan and my wonderful kids, Peter and Veronica for their support. Susan, you are my salvation.

I’m grateful to have the expert professionals Coach Russ and Coach Sharone and the entire Well-Fit staff and athletes who generously share their wisdom.

I’m grateful to my inspiring and impressive training partners. Especially the seven hardcore savages that got it done in New Zealand--Adam, Christine, Dan, Kelly, Megan, Mike, Will and Bernie.

I’m very grateful to anybody willing to excuse my terrible smell, deplorable language and barbaric sounds during training.

Maximum gratitude to Well-Fit, Get-A-Grip, Fleet Feet and all the pools I use.

I’m grateful for Crushing Iron (C26), Matt Fitzgerald, Joe Friel, Training Peaks, Scott brand bikes, Apple, Ironman.

Thank you to all the on-course maniacs cheering and making signs and wearing all sorts of crazy outfits to show love and support. For strangers exercising.

I’m grateful that I’m able to race triathlons. I’m grateful to you for reading.

[bevioletskies]

everybody wants to rule the world [5/8]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

summary: peter is the one and only heir to the celestial throne. gamora is expected to successfully lead the titans to conquer the galaxy. a political alliance is in the works, and there may or may not be wedding bells in the air.

alternately: peter and gamora find themselves in an arranged marriage and want nothing to do with it, but might need each other more than they think if they want to escape their genocidal fathers forever.

word count: 11.2k

a/n: warning for creepy/abusive behavior from both thanos and ego towards their respective children throughout the entire fic. also note that this AU is very heavily based on the MCU versions of themselves, where things are basically only different because yondu took peter to ego after all.

fic title is from the song everybody wants to rule the world by tears for fears.

help me to decide...help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure...

ao3 | tag

To Gamora’s surprise (and relief), Ego had, for once, not been exaggerating when he proclaimed she had become something of a hero. Word spread quickly across the galaxy of the new Celestial princess and how she had saved everyone’s lives - especially that of her new husband’s. Leaders and common folk alike were practically singing her praises for how she handled the Kree invasion, not that she remembered much. The rest of the wedding night was a blur - even with her accelerated healing, blood loss was still blood loss - and she spent the next few days on bedrest, letting her body modifications do most of the work.

Unfortunately, the gash in her leg wasn’t the only injury she’d sustained, also having a sprained ankle, a couple cracked ribs, and bruises that made every muscle twitch and every cough burn like wildfire, but it was hardly the worst she’d ever experienced. In fact, she would almost consider them a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things, if not for the other consequences of her injuries, such as -

“I’m perfectly capable of getting my own meals, Quill, it’s only a limp,” Gamora groaned as her bedroom doors swung open to reveal, for the fourth time that week, Peter, whistling cheerfully as he brought in a serving tray laden with food. The guard standing by looked like he was trying not to laugh at her plight.

“Morning to you, too,” Peter chirped, sitting by her feet. Rolling her eyes, she still turned over so he could place the tray on her lap. “Look, you said you wanted to stick to your super healthy diet, but that doesn’t mean I have to, so they have to prepare this separately. Really, this is just me bringing the chef’s personalized meals so they don’t have to come to you, and you don’t have to go to them. I’m doing you both a favor.”

“And gracing me with your presence at the same time,” she drawled.

He grinned. “Exactly! Wait, are you being sarcastic again? Because I can’t tell sometimes.”

She swatted at him with her book before picking up her fork. “What’s on the agenda today? Were you at breakfast with the others?” Peter looked at her, suspiciously doe-eyed, before she got the message. She let out an annoyed huff, pushing the tray towards him. “For someone who claims to not want to eat the same food as me, you’re very insistent on stealing it.”

“Food tastes better when it belongs to someone else,” he said defensively through a mouthful of grits. He began coughing. “Oh, never mind, what is this, soy? Ew.” Wrinkling her nose, Gamora leaned forward to slowly push his jaw closed. The sight of Peter chewing did wonders for killing her appetite. “Nah, nothing’s going on today. Dad’s doing his usual thing, which is who knows what, and Mantis is at that school-opening ceremony in the capital. You got any ideas?”

“I’m still confined to this bed for another couple days,” she said forlornly. “I’d get up and walk out right now if it wasn’t for your doctors. I swear I’m fine, but they’re acting like I’ll keel over the second I’m on my feet.”

“You wanna hang out with me, then? I could keep you company.” Peter tilted his head sideways in what she supposed was meant to look endearing. Personally, she thought he looked like he had a neck injury. “I could bring you more books. Or we could talk strategy, not that there’s really anything left to plan, I mean, you were super thorough in those meetings we had. Or maybe a holoscreen! We can watch a movie, I found a bunch of Terran videotapes at one of the Nova trading posts…” He trailed off when he noticed she wasn’t responding, looking at her expectantly.

Oddly enough, the incident at the wedding had brought them closer, despite the confusing conversation - or more accurately, confrontation - they had moments beforehand. After she had woken from her medical treatment, Peter remained by her bedside, both to apologize profusely for his childish behavior and to proclaim her status as the “kingdom’s resident badass”. Gamora, of course, had accepted, knowing he only meant well, and apologized in return for being evasive - he had a point; she couldn’t expect him to trust her if she wasn’t going to be straightforward herself. Ever since then, things were surprisingly smooth. No confrontations, no accusations, no secrets. She had even told him about Thanos’s order for her to seduce him.

“Seriously? What is this, a movie?” Peter had chuckled. “And, what, it ends with you having fallen in love with me for real, but me thinking you’re lying when you say so because you were lying the whole time, and I don’t know if I love you or just the fake you, and it’s all a bi-i-ig misunderstanding - yeah, I’ve seen this before.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, but I also find the idea of me being in love with you laughable,” Gamora had retorted.

“I’ll have you know that I’m super lovable. Just ask anyone. Literally, you could fly into any city on this planet, ask some random stranger - ” If Gamora hadn’t been so comfortable under her bedsheets at the time, she would’ve been tempted to sit up just so she could smack him on the shoulder.

Now, she stared back, wondering how she could possibly pass the time. Peter was right - everything they needed for the inevitable “pseudo-revolution”, as he liked to call it, was ready to go at moment’s notice. She also couldn’t exactly get up and walk out, what with the guards following the doctor’s orders to keep her confined. “If you spend all day in my room,” she said slowly, “do you think your father will interpret it as your newfound devotion to me, and mention it to my father? Keep him placated?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like we’re a bunch of schoolkids passin’ notes,” Peter laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Oh, sure,” she relented, cracking a gentle smile. “I’ll go stir-crazy in here otherwise. But if you make so much as one bad joke, I’m sending for Nebula to keep me company instead.”

“No bad jokes here.” He exaggeratedly puffed out his chest, chin held high. “I’m hilarious.”

“You’ve already done it. Get out,” she deadpanned, taking a long sip of her drink.

“Too late! I’ve claimed a pillow.” He threw himself down on top of the duvet, staring up at the underside of the canopy hanging over them. “Y’know, this bed’s never been used for sleeping.”

“What else would it - oh, Quill,” Gamora groaned, recoiling. “You’re disgusting. And your actual bedroom is just one door away, why didn’t you use that instead?”

“Privacy reasons,” Peter said defensively. “No one gets to be in there but me and my family. And oh man, if you think that’s gross - and it’s not, it’s totally normal - never use a blacklight on the Milano. Looks like a Jackson Pollock painting in there.” She blinked. “He’s like an artist...guy. I, uh - yeah.”

“Is it too late for me to move back into the guest quarters?” she sighed.

Despite herself, Gamora spent most of her recovery in Peter’s company, with occasional visits from her people (Peter was always mysteriously absent whenever Nebula was around). Though she was much more used to them, they were rather macabre in comparison to Peter’s cheerfulness. She didn’t exactly want to deal with Nebula’s attitude or Drax and Rocket’s squabbling when she was so lethargic from being stuck in bed. Peter was quite adept at entertaining her, telling her stories about his Terran childhood or creating random objects out of thin air for fun. It was a good distraction for an otherwise droll recovery.

Once the doctors finally let her go, she was back to her training regimen, pleasantly surprised to find Peter hadn’t slacked in her absence. Apparently, he had gone to Drax and requested his help (“Big mistake - I can’t count all the times he accidentally dislocated my shoulder”), and trained with him for at least an hour per day.

“Discipline,” Gamora echoed, smiling. “Good to see that we’re making progress in more ways than one.”

He managed to disarm her a few times on their first day back, practically knocking the wind out of her as he slammed her down into the mat. He was sharper, quicker, more precise than before - though admittedly, the one that had gotten her the most was where he was up to his usual tricks.

“Shit - I think you broke my nose - ”

“Hold still, let me see - ow - ” Gamora was flat on her back, Peter straddling her with a triumphant grin on his face, his nose completely untouched. She stared up at him, unimpressed. “Are you trying to crack my ribs again?”

“I’m sorry, I thought this was supposed to be serious, disciplined, combat pra - OW!” Now he was bleeding. A couple drops ended up on Gamora’s shirt, but as far as she was concerned? Worth it. “Okay, I deserved that one.”

As glad as she was to be back on her feet, they soon settled into something a bit too routine even for her liking. Gamora would wake early, have breakfast alone in her room, then train with Drax and Nebula before being joined by Peter. After their one-on-one session, she would shower and spend the rest of her day either reading, studying up on the kingdom’s history and policies (Yondu had been a great help in that regard), or in the company of her people. Dinner was always in the dining hall, where she and Peter mostly chatted with each other about nonsensical topics in order to satiate Ego’s little domestic fantasy. Evenings, once again, were either spent alone, or, increasingly more often, with Peter.

He had taken to sprawling himself across her bed after dinner, sleepily satisfied from the food and looking for a peaceful way to close out the night before eventually returning to his own room. Gamora wasn’t sure what to make of it at first - was this what friends did? - but after the first post-wedding month had passed, she came to expect him on a regular basis, even finding herself disappointed whenever he was absent.

One particular evening, Gamora walked into her bedroom to find Peter already there, looking more downtrodden than usual, clutching his Walkman over his chest. She could hear faint strains of a song playing through his headphones.

Everybody plays the fool sometime...there's no exception to the rule...listen, baby, it may be factual, may be cruel...I ain't lyin', everybody plays the fool...

“Something wrong?” she asked, disappearing into the wardrobe to change.

“I had a fight with Mantis,” Peter grumbled, pushing his headphones away from his ears.

Gamora paused before quickly changing into her sleepclothes and walking back out, staring at him in disbelief. “What? When? You seemed fine at dinner.”

“Yeah, only for Dad’s sake,” he sighed, settling into the pillows. “She’s just been actin’ real weird lately, so this morning after breakfast, I asked her what was up. I dunno, I thought she was stressing out over the plans or something. Changing her mind.”

“And she didn’t tell you anything, did she,” Gamora guessed, joining him on the bed.

“Not a word,” he replied. “I pushed a little harder, and maybe I shouldn’t have, but...I worry about her sometimes. I try not to baby her, but it’s hard when Dad still does it, y’know? And she doesn’t really have friends, other than the local kids. Sometimes I do weekend trips off-planet to have some fun, and whenever I invite her, she always says Dad’s got stuff for her to do. Don’t make any sense, considering he never has stuff for us to do. Ever.”

Gamora pursed her lips in consideration. “Have you ever looked into it? Maybe it’s related to that thing she wouldn’t tell us about at the wedding.”

He shook his head. “She’s always gone and done her own thing, and I usually leave it alone, but it’s like...it’s like ever since we started this whole plan, she’s got more to hide from me. We grew up together...spent so much time together. But now it’s like she isn’t around anymore. And I don’t know what I did wrong.” He lifted his head to meet her gaze, half-expecting her to make a crack about how he was always wrong. Instead, there was a sense of sadness reflected in her dark eyes.

Falling in love is such an easy thing to do...and there's no guarantee that the one you love...is gonna love you….

“Well, if I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that keeping secrets only makes it worse in the end,” Gamora said softly. “She’ll come around to you, Quill. You’re much too close to let this get in the way of your relationship.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks. And I hope you’re right.” Clearing his throat, he straightened up. “Hey, so, I was gonna ask you for a favor - ”

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“It is, I promise. I was thinking, we’ve been sitting on our asses for almost two months now, waiting for Thanos to show. Meanwhile, he keeps insisting - ”

“ - not until your father starts showing signs of desperation, I know, I was there for all of those awful weekly calls,” Gamora shuddered. “What’s your point?”

“Maybe we gotta get it going ourselves, and get you some good publicity at the same time,” he suggested. “You’re stressed out about what might happen after we - y’know - if you’re just gonna get shoved into jail forever and never be free again. I say, we go pay Xandar a visit, show off a little and do an event or something. Maybe hang around the Nova Corps so Nova Prime keeps you in her good books. It’ll boost your reputation and make Dad all stressed out.”

“That’s...actually a pretty decent idea. And much better than sulking around here forever,” Gamora agreed, nodding slowly.

“See? I’m totally a genius.” Peter pumped his fist in the air triumphantly.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she shot back. “But let’s do it. Are we bringing the others?”

“Might get me and Mantis back on the same page. So, yeah. Let Dad stew all alone for a few days. It’ll be fun!” ______

Once the Milano had settled in, cruising along smoothly through space like they had all the time in the world, Peter shooed Rocket and Yondu away, telling them he would join them and the others in a few minutes for breakfast. It was an early Sunday morning, and they were en route to Xandar to meet with Nova Prime. Their public personas would have to be on display for the entire trip, but Peter was confident by now that the others would be able to handle the pressure.

He leaned back in his seat, staring out into the cosmos in an almost dream-like state as he thought about what had transpired over the last little while, ever since the wedding. Some good, some bad - Mantis becoming increasingly distant, definitely bad. He liked the camaraderie of his new friendships (okay, friendship, singular, with Gamora), but he also missed the old days of just him and his sister. They were such opposites in so many ways, but it was what made their bond so strong. Now, she barely talked to him for more than five minutes before excusing herself to go do something else. And Ego, he was a tough one to crack as well, not that that was anything new. Peter considered confronting him about Korath, but what he could he possibly say? Gamora was almost certain Korath had been hired by Ego to go after Peter as a publicity stunt, but Peter wasn’t so sure himself - in what world did Ego think he could trust the Kree to not actually hurt him, especially one that worked for Thanos? He was lucky Gamora had been there to save him, to fight back in ways that no one else would.

Gamora. Peter smiled to himself, almost giddy. He couldn’t help it. Thinking about her made him happy. She’d been coming out of her shell very slowly, allowing herself to laugh more often, to sleep in longer and take bigger portions of food, to tease him and talk with him for hours at a time. She wasn’t quite the harsh, militant, no-nonsense girl he had met two months ago. Sure, she was every bit as confident and disciplined as ever, but the tension in her shoulders had all but vanished, the formality of her vocabulary loosened. She was still confused by his Terran references and became easily irritated by his antics, but there was a gentleness to her that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it had been all along, and she was only letting it show now.

“Quill, are you daydreaming up here?” He nearly fell out of his seat at the sound of her voice. “Breakfast was ready ten minutes ago, your food’s going to go cold if you don’t come down.”

“I know, I was just...looking.” He gestured towards the glass. “It’s real nice, getting to see space like this. And not to be a big Terran cliche, but I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid. And now, here I am. Peter Quill, next-level astronaut.”

“I’ve only seen glimpses of it, if I ever cared to look out the window.” Gamora took measured steps forward, her hands coming to rest on the back of his chair. “I didn’t exactly take the time to stop and observe. I had a job to do.”

“Do you want to someday?” he asked. “Get out there and explore?”

“It’s a nice thought, I suppose,” she agreed. “Where I lived, on Sanctuary, it wasn’t exactly a haven. And everywhere else I’ve been for more than a day was either a safehouse or a jail cell.”

“What if...what if that’s what we did, after all this?” Peter lifted his head to look at her. Her gaze was firmly cast outwards, among the stars. “Go on an epic adventure.”

She looked back at him. “Where?”

“Everywhere. Wherever you want.” He gestured wildly, arms spread wide. “I’ve only ever gone to planets that I can reach within a couple days, but imagine where we could go if we had our whole lives ahead of us!”

Gamora smiled sadly. “It’s a nice thought,” she repeated, turning and walking away. “Breakfast, Quill. Come on.”

They touched down in Xandar by the late afternoon. It was already getting dark, but still, Gamora found herself silently admiring her surroundings as she made her way down the landing ramp. Xandar was the complete opposite of Ego’s planet; modern, slick - stylish, even. There was something strange about being in a new place without having to immediately hide or establish a cover, and it left her feeling somewhat exposed. The rest of her people looked just as uncomfortable as she felt, especially as Nova Prime approached the landing pad in her usual brisk stride, flanked by two Nova officers.

“Good to see you again, your highnesses,” she said, shaking their hands firmly. “I hope you had a comfortable flight. You have a very...unique-looking ship there, Prince Peter.”

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Peter beamed, turning to admire the Milano briefly before looking back to Nova Prime. “I’d love to hear what you have in store for us, ma’am.”

“Why don’t we get you all settled in first?” she suggested. “Denarian Dey and Denarian Saal will escort you to your rooms. We’ll have dinner in my suite at eight and discuss everything then.”

The Nova officers led them into an elevator and then through a series of winding hallways, providing them with specialized access passes that would allow them into the common area of Nova Prime’s private floor, but keep them away from the work floors. Denarian Saal eyed Rocket pointedly as he mentioned the weapon laboratories (clearly, there was a story there that Peter was itching to know more about). Gamora was dismayed to find out that she and Peter would be sharing a room.

“At least it’s two beds,” Peter pointed out as he lugged his bag onto one of them. “There, we’ve avoided another cliche.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Quill,” Gamora sighed. She debated whether to unpack at all, considering they were only here for a few days. If something went wrong, if she needed to make a quick getaway, having to throw everything back into her bag would only slow her down. She then dropped her bag unceremoniously on the floor, by the nightstand. “Did you see the way Denarian Saal was eyeing me and my people? And he thinks we’re uncivilized.”

“What do you mean?” He flopped onto the bed with a satisfied exhale.

“You may be innocent at the moment, Quill, but we’re already criminals, remember? And now, here we are, with access to Nova Prime’s private rooms. He probably suspects we’re here to make an attempt on her life, or at least, commit some sort of petty crime. He’ll sweep our rooms when we’re not here to make sure we haven’t stolen anything. Scan hours of security footage to ensure we never went anywhere we weren’t supposed to be.” She shrugged. “It’s how everyone acts around us.”

“Well, hopefully, after this week, he’ll change his mind. Hopefully everyone changes their minds.” Peter sat up, his back against the headboard. “That’s the whole point of this trip! And you saved my life, that wasn’t nothing. People believe you’re one of the good guys. Now they just have to like you as a person, too.”

“Being likable is such an overrated quality,” she complained, sitting at the foot of her own bed. “It’s only ever people who are already liked who think it’s important, because they already have it. But if you’re unloved, unwanted...the desire to be liked can turn into desperation very quickly.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “You said once that my people look at me like I’m a hero, instead of some all-knowing master. You’d rather be the master?”

She shook her head, staring intently at the floor. “I’d rather not be anything to anyone at all if it means I’ll finally be left alone.”

Peter fell silent, mulling it over. “Y’know, if...if I was being too pushy earlier, about going on, like, adventures together after this, I didn’t mean to. You don’t have to stick around. It’s your life. It’d be fun, but...I understand if you just wanna leave. Even I annoy myself sometimes,” he added jokingly.

“Now you know why I don’t bother with friendships, or even alliances. It creates obligations,” Gamora chuckled softly. “I don’t like loose ends, unanswered questions. And relying on intuition...it’s just not me.” At his frustrated expression, she quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he said, waving her off.

“Quill, you can’t lecture me about keeping secrets and then - ”

“It’s not a secret, I just - I don’t think you wanna hear it.” He relented once she glared him into submission. “Fine, fine. I just wish you’d gotten your childhood back somehow. Then maybe, you’d have dreams like the rest of us, instead of thinking about worst-case scenarios all the time. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good that you do that stuff, but...I dunno.”

“So I was forced to grow up fast. That’s not exactly unique. You had to do the same thing,” Gamora pointed out.

“Yeah, but I live in a big fancy palace with tons of people lookin’ after me. You had to deal with so much crap, Gamora, all on your own sometimes, and I don’t know how you did it and still came out...normal. Sane.” He shuffled a bit closer, his knees swinging around the side of his bed so he could properly face her.

“Sanity is subjective,” she reminded him. Peter laughed, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in something of a half-smile. She found she liked the sound of it - his real laugh, not that odd, forced sound that escaped him whenever he was with his father or in the company of people who knew nothing about him. She wanted to make him laugh more. “I dream of being able to choose my own future, I guess. Do more than just survive. Beyond that, I have no real big ambitions.”

Before Peter could reply, a harsh knock-knock-knock cut through, followed by “Hey, idiots! Do ya check your messages or what? Nova Prime’s callin’ us up to her place, like, right now!” Gamora glanced briefly at her communication device, startled to realize it was already 7:45.

“Give us a minute to change, Rocket,” she called back, yanking out clothes from her bag at random before slipping into the bathroom without a second glance. Still, Peter smiled to himself before reaching for his own. ______

Gamora was grateful to find that Nova Prime, for the most part, steered clear of addressing her alone, considering they were yet to have a conversation in which Gamora didn’t run off. Rocket was a little ruder than Gamora would have liked, and Drax’s blunt nature made the Nova guards twitch, but at least Nebula stuck to her promise to be seen and not heard for the entire meal.

“I was surprised when you reached out to me, Prince Peter,” Nova Prime admitted by the time dessert came around. “Especially so soon after the wedding. I figured your sister would have come alone, since she’s been handling all of your interplanetary affairs lately.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Peter said, glancing over at Mantis. She seemed very invested in her pudding all of a sudden. “What affairs?”

“The...outreach center,” Nova Prime replied slowly, furrowing her brow. “Have you not been...you haven’t, have you?”

“I was going to surprise Peter with the news today, Nova Prime, do not worry that you have overstepped,” Mantis said reassuringly, finally lifting her head so she could address Peter. “We have been talking for a while now about setting up an outreach center that will help reformed criminals prepare for rehabilitation on our planet. Most are still unaware of what we do, but Xandar has one of the biggest holding centers in the galaxy. If we partner with the Nova Corps to provide them with a second chance - food, shelter, healthcare, education - they will be prepared to join us on Ego and expand our population.”

“I wasn’t aware we were lookin’ to expand,” Peter frowned. “Does Dad know about this?”

“Of course he does!” Mantis exclaimed. “He provided the funding and set one of his advisors to task in assisting me. But this is mostly my project.” She was practically glowing with pride. Still, both Peter and Gamora couldn’t help but be a little wary. Where was this coming from?

“And why wasn’t I in on this?” Peter demanded, leaning across the table. Nova Prime glanced briefly between the siblings in worry.

“The opening ceremony is tomorrow morning, your highnesses,” she interrupted a little louder than necessary. “I was originally expecting Princess Mantis by herself, but now that you’re all here, well, we might as well proceed with everyone. You can give a few speeches, explain the rehabilitation program and its relation to your planet’s social work system. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you would like afterward, but if you’re interested in good publicity, I’d recommend spending your time here volunteering to help.”

“And by all of us, that includes my subjects as well,” Gamora said. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Peter, who looked significantly more irritated than he had been five minutes ago. Sometimes, it seemed like his temper was worse than hers. “My people are non-negotiable.”

“Yes, of course,” Nova Prime promised. Groot looked pleased at being included. The others were scowling at Gamora as if she committed a great offense. “You are all distinguished guests of mine, Princess. We’ll have extra security for everyone’s protection, given what happened at your last public event.”

The moment dinner ended, Mantis practically flew right out the door in a hurry. Peter ran after her before Gamora could intervene, grabbing Mantis by the arm and pulling her aside, next to the elevator. “Really? An outreach center. When you know that we’re...you know, what’s about to happen,” he said quickly, furiously, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What’s this all about?”

“I just wanted to be of use for once,” Mantis replied evenly, her eyes darting sideways as the others entered the hallway. “Prove that I am not just a sleeping pill for Father, or a playmate for the brave, powerful prince.”

Peter blanched like he’d been hit. “What’s that s’posed to mean? And where is this coming from, Mantis? Did Dad say something to you?”

They were interrupted by the quiet ding of the elevator, its doors sliding open to invite them back to their rooms. Everyone filed in, Mantis immediately retreating into the furthest corner. Gamora slid neatly between the Celestial siblings, glaring at Peter in warning. To her surprise, it seemed to have no effect. “This was not his idea, if that is what you are thinking. Why have you been so suspicious of me lately?”

“Because you’re actin’ suspicious!” Peter exclaimed. He took another step forward, but Yondu reached over to clap him on the shoulder firmly, yanking him back.

“Quill, c’mon. Don’t fight now,” Yondu warned. “You been drinkin’ too much tonight, ain’t you?”

“And you, you know somethin’ I don’t, don’t you?” Peter snapped, shoving Yondu away. Yondu’s shoulder banged into the elevator wall with an unceremonious echo, causing the entire carriage to rattle precariously. Mantis let out a quiet gasp of surprise.

Yondu straightened his coat lapels, his eyes harder than they had been before. “You’re gettin’ paranoid, boy. I suggest you keep your hands to yourself,” he said cooly, jabbing a finger into Peter’s chest. “And you show your sister some respect. Don’t make me ask again.”

Before Peter could retaliate, Gamora grabbed Peter’s arm, pulling him away. “Quill.” He turned to look at her, his eyes colder than she’d ever seen. “Let’s go to the roof. You need air.” The others exchanged dubious looks before silently stepping out onto the guest floor, leaving Peter and Gamora behind.

“What if Mantis is turning her back on us?” Peter demanded once the doors had closed. “She could’ve been feedin’ Dad information on everything we’ve been doing this whole damn time, settin’ up this ‘outreach center’ so he can have his own personal army of criminals.”

“Get some air, Quill,” Gamora repeated, sighing. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

Upon reaching the rooftop level, they found a quiet spot away from the hum of the generators, settling down onto the gravel and staring out into the pitch black of the Xandarian night sky. Despite the fury that was practically radiating off Peter, he leaned into Gamora somewhat, their knees and shoulders brushing. Though she could smell the alcohol on his breath, his eyes were focused, his speech clear. No, he wasn’t exactly drunk. It was something else. “Look, Quill, you and I, we’ve had our fair share of fights. And from what I can tell, you like people, but you have trouble trusting them sometimes. Don’t let your anger towards your father become anger towards everyone else. I know what that’s like, and it doesn’t get you anywhere.”

“So, what, you don’t think Mantis is being weird?” Peter’s voice was quieter than before, almost sobering. “Even you think I’m crazy.”

“No, actually, I think you’re onto something,” Gamora replied. “And I want to question her, badly, same as you. But it’s late. We’re tired, and stressed. You think yelling at her in front of everyone else will get the job done? It’ll be direct, sure, but it won’t be effective.”

“And you’re all about results,” he snarked, though he seemed to regret it the second it left his mouth. He hugged his knees into his chest, blinking slowly into the darkness. Gamora’s clothes and hair were so dark, he could barely see her, save for the slight silvery glint of the metal in her skin. He had never asked her about it, but he hoped he would be able to someday. “What do we do?”

“If it’ll ease your mind - and your temper - I’ll keep a closer eye on her,” she promised. “Maybe she’s been conning us the whole time. Or maybe she’s just withholding information out of ignorance, and not contempt. We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, maybe try to not be so hostile?”

“Gotta say, never thought I’d hear you of all people give me that advice,” he laughed. “And thanks. For helping me outta there tonight. I owe you, again.”

“A working relationship isn’t a business deal, Quill.” Gamora gave him a reassuring smile. “We owe each other nothing.”

“Friendship,” Peter corrected, grinning. “And right, no obligations, got it. Can we head back now? It’s so freaking cold up here.” ______

After an unceremoniously brief breakfast in their own rooms - Peter spent most of it pestering Gamora on how to speak to the media, to which she retorted that he didn’t exactly have that much experience, either - they all piled into one of the Nova-issued secured vehicles, with two more boxing them in for safety. The short drive to the outreach center was filled with mundane conversation, mostly prompted by Nova Prime, while Peter and Mantis seemed to be trying their best not to make eye contact. Everyone felt horribly uncomfortable by the time they stepped outside.

“And I thought I looked ready to kill,” Gamora murmured as she looped her arm with Peter’s. There was a steady crowd of photographers and media already forming by the entrance, especially eager to catch photos or get quotes from the newlyweds who hadn’t been seen or heard from since the wedding. “I also thought our talk last night would’ve taught you something. Seems like I was wrong.”

“Prince Peter! Princess Gamora!” One of the reporters squeezed their way through to the front, sticking his recording device right under Gamora’s nose. She blanched before straightening, trying her best not to look so disappointed. “How have you been, your highnesses? Are you well, princess? We heard you were on bedrest - are you already pregnant?”

“I was stabbed - ” “Hey, hey, no one’s pregnant - oh god, are people saying she’s pregnant? - ”

“But there are plans for children in the future, yes?” another reporter prompted.

“Guys, guys, c’mon, our visit today is about the outreach center. It’s not about me and Gamora,” Peter laughed somewhat uncomfortably. “We’re lookin’ at how we can improve our policies and resource allocation, rehabilitate people who deserve a second chance. We’re not thinkin’ about babies.”

“But if you don’t continue the family line, the Celestial legacy dies with you, your highness,” the second one said snidely.

Gamora scowled. “And that’s none of our concern right now, thank you,” she shot back cooly. “Now will you let us pass? We have a job to do.” Peter wasn’t sure whether to wince or laugh as Gamora practically dragged him to the doors and nearly knocked the reporters over in the process, where everyone else was standing, watching them bemusedly.

In many ways, the opening ceremony was reminiscent of all the things Gamora had hated most about their wedding - the pomp and circumstance, the empty words, the stiff, insincere smiles that left her cheeks aching for relief. But there was a genuine happiness that positively radiated off Mantis once she began addressing the crowd. She had clearly found her calling, her passion. Once more, there was an explosion of sound and movement as everyone clapped and cheered at the very end, Peter reaching around Gamora so he could squeeze Mantis’s shoulder in congratulations. She smiled tightly at him before turning back to the cameras.

Afterward, they did an open tour of the facility, guided mostly by Mantis and Nova Prime. Gamora found herself genuinely interested in what they had to say. She had seen her fair share of criminals who had been led astray through no fault of their own, herself included, and a place like this could very well work miracles for them.

“Hey, I could give you a tour of the city if you’d like.” Gamora turned, not realizing Peter was right behind her, his fingers ever-so-slightly brushing her waist in an attempt to stay nearby. The event was over, and everyone was filing out of the building neatly, chatting to themselves and bowing as they passed the royal family members. “Not like we’ve got anything else to do today.” Raising an eyebrow, Gamora gestured wordlessly to Mantis nearby, who looked unsure of what to do next. “Oh, right - hey, Mantis! You, me, Gamora, the city? You wanna come?”

“I suppose,” Mantis said quietly. “I will have to check with Yondu.” Peter looked at Gamora pleadingly as his sister began walking away. Gamora rolled her eyes in disbelief - really, this was the extent of his effort? - before jogging after the other girl.

“I could use another tour guide. Your brother isn’t very observant, after all,” Gamora added, looking over at Peter with a smirk. He seemed half-offended, half-agreeable. “Either that, or you’ll be returning to Nova headquarters, where you’ll likely spend the rest of your day in the company of my people. I’m sure they would love to have you.”

Mantis looked disturbed by the prospect. “A tour sounds like a great idea!” Mantis said quickly. “Where shall we start, Peter? What do you think Gamora would like?”

He hummed thoughtfully, reaching for Gamora’s hand when he realized the nearby photographers were still snapping away, watching them, waiting for them to do something interesting. “Why don’t we start with a bookstore?” ______

“You and Peter get along much better than I would have expected,” Mantis admitted several hours later. The three of them were sat in a quaint homestyle restaurant, watched closely by Yondu, who was sat by himself a few tables away. Peter had disappeared to the bathroom after they had finished eating, leaving the girls by themselves. “I do not need my powers to see that you enjoy each other’s company.”

“Is this what we’re going to talk about while he’s gone? How gauche.” Gamora sipped her water. “He worries about you, Mantis. I doubt that’s news to you, but he does. You’ve been acting strange lately, and the fact that I can tell when I hardly know you is a testament to your odd behavior. He may have been rash last night, but he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

“He no longer trusts me. He thinks I mean to turn against him because I have been spending time with Father,” Mantis whispered. “It...it hurts. Knowing that after everything we have done together, he would still think so little of me.”

“Quill thinks the world of you,” Gamora insisted. “That’s why this weighs so heavily on him. And it’s no secret that Quill and I only get along about half of the time. But we know we can trust each other. And you both think you’ve lost that. All we ask is that you tell the truth.”

Mantis couldn’t help but grin, something rather awkward, yet endearing. “You and Peter have become a ‘we’, haven’t you?” she said slyly. “Are you not a little curious about what he thinks when you are around?”

“He’s almost too easy to read, so no, I don’t. And don’t change the subject,” Gamora said sternly.

“I am not, I just know he will be coming back soon, and - do you really not want to know?” Mantis blinked innocently.

“We are not having this discussion, not now, not ever - ”

“Discussion? What’d I miss?” Peter seemingly popped up out of nowhere, leaning against the back of Gamora’s chair with an easy smile.

“Mantis wanted to tell me stories of your shared adolescence, but I think it’s time we address some of our interpersonal issues instead,” Gamora lied easily, gesturing for him to take a seat. Peter obeyed, though he looked very much like he was regretting having returned to the table. “Your relationship with each other really isn’t my business. But clearly, you have unresolved issues, and I have no interest in letting anyone’s emotions get in the way of our plans. So either deal with it like adults and drop the issue, or talk it out like adults and solve it. We are not leaving until this is behind us, and there are no other choices.”

“Of course you’re giving an ultimatum,” Peter muttered under his breath, ignoring the dirty look Gamora sent his way. “Right, um, Mantis. Do you feel like...like you wanna back out?”

“No, not at all!” Mantis exclaimed. “You see how Father treats me. I mean so little to him compared to you. I had...I had absolutely no one until Yondu brought you home. You remember what I was like.”

“You were scared, like, all the time. You didn’t know how to read or write, ‘cause Dad didn’t think it was important.” Peter shook his head, disgusted at the memory. “And you were confused the first time I tried to hug you.”

“I thought you were going to strangle me.” Mantis let out a tiny, awful laugh. “I thought I had started to trust someone who wanted to hurt me instead. That I was stupid for thinking I could.” She glanced at Gamora, whose eyes were suspiciously glossy. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest. “This was probably not what you wanted us to talk about, was it?”

“No, this is...it’s good.” Gamora swallowed, clearing her throat harshly. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Maybe you and I aren’t as different as I first thought.”

Mantis smiled weakly in return. “I know what everyone thinks of me,” she replied. “Quiet, sweet, naive Mantis. She feels feelings, she helps people sleep. She is not very clever, or brave, or interesting. She just...is.”

“Mantis - ” Peter protested.

“I’m guilty of thinking those exact things when I first arrived,” Gamora interrupted. “And I also worried about what your powers would mean for my privacy. I trust you now. At least, enough to get this done. But that trust won’t last if you continue to evade us.”

“I would not betray your privacy,” Mantis frowned. “And I would not go out of my way to hurt you. Either of you.”

“Then where do you go when you say Dad’s got a job for you?” Peter asked, beginning to grow impatient. “All those times where I ask you if you wanna hang out, and you’re busy. Sometimes you’re both gone for days, Mantis. Where do you go?”

Mantis remained silent for a moment, staring into the candle flickering in the middle of the table. The warm yellow light cast an eerie, almost sickly glow over her face, illuminating her enormous, dark eyes. “The only secret I can tell you,” she said quietly, “is that there is a secret that Father and I share. And it is something you must never know about, or it will kill you.”

“Wait, literally?” Peter leaned towards her in concern. “Mantis...what has he got you doing?”

“Please,” Mantis pleaded, trembling. “I can see that it is frustrating you. And I hate not being able to tell you what it is. But if you still trust me at all, you will not ask me about it again.” She smiled weakly. “You are such a good brother to me, Peter. And you have always been so protective. So let me protect you for once.”

Peter looked over at Gamora then, who was watching Mantis carefully, her brow furrowed in contemplation. She was still so new to the Celestial siblings’ dynamic, knew far more about Peter than she did about Mantis, and there was still so much left to learn about them both. And yet, for someone who had been raised in such a barbaric, animalistic environment, she did indeed seem far more “sane” than Peter would have ever guessed her to be. He still remembered when she first arrived - practically stomping into the throne room, decked out in full armor, her mere presence demanding to be seen and heard. Her reputation preceded her, making him almost certain his future wife was going to be, at best, cold, calculating, devoid of feeling. And maybe she had started that way, or at least, appeared that way. But now?

“I believe her, Quill,” Gamora murmured quietly, leaning back in her seat. “What she said sounds ominous, but it also sounds true. Your father seems like the kind of man who would coerce his own child into carrying out his immoral deeds. This isn’t Mantis’s choice. This is his doing.” She turned to the other girl. “If we follow through with the plan...will it free you from his secret? Will you tell us everything that he’s done, so we can undo it and make things right?”

“Undoing what we have done will be impossible,” Mantis murmured. “But yes. It will, and I will.”

Gamora nodded sharply, a smirk beginning to form. “Good. Not that we needed another reason to take him out, but I suppose we’ll all sleep better at night, knowing you’ll be okay.”

Mantis smiled brightly in return. “Thank you, Gamora. I am very glad you are on our side. We would be forever stuck in our old ways, if not for your bravery.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Gamora scoffed, though she looked pleased.

“I mean it,” Mantis said firmly, patting Gamora briefly on the arm. It was a testament to Gamora’s newfound comfort that she didn’t immediately pull away. “I was uneasy about the idea at first. And I did not know what to think of you, either. But it is something we must do, not just for us, but for everyone in the entire galaxy. Neither of us would have ever thought to do so, but you did.” Gamora faltered a little, glancing off to the side. Before Peter could ask her about it, Mantis spoke again. “Also, I think Peter is very glad to have you around.”

Peter let out an undignified squawk. “What’re you tryna say?”

“Just that you are friends.” Mantis blinked innocently once more. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“Hah,” Peter said weakly. “Right.”

“So are all settled then? No more secrets, no more anger. We let nothing get in the way,” Gamora said, glancing between them.

“Yeah. And sorry that I lost my temper, Mantis,” Peter said gently. “For yellin’, for grabbin’ you...that wasn’t cool. I won’t do it again, I promise. I never wanna hurt you, ever.”

“And I am sorry for being so secretive.” Mantis reached across the table to grab Peter’s hands. “I want to tell you absolutely everything, but it is not safe. I should have just said that the first time you asked, instead of pushing you away. I could feel your distress, your anger, your sadness. I like you best when you are happy, Peter.”

“So do I,” he replied quietly.

They smiled at each other, relieved. Gamora couldn’t help but smile herself. “Are we ready to pay the bill?”

“Pay the - Gamora, we haven’t had dessert yet!” Peter exclaimed. Mantis squealed in delight, volunteering to flag down a waiter for the menu.

Sighing, Gamora slouched in her seat, unsure if she had the energy to keep up with their double act for the rest of the night. “Here we go.” ______

Mantis said something kinda weird to me before she left,” Peter said as he and Gamora returned to their hotel room. It was nearing midnight, and he was pleasantly tired, though there was an underlying fuzziness in his brain that he hadn’t quite been able to untangle since Mantis had spoken to him.

“What’s that?” Gamora kicked off her shoes, stretching luxuriously.

“That she thought you were one thing before today, and now she thinks you’re something else entirely.” Peter paused. “Then again, she’s been acting real cryptic all night. Maybe she just drank too much - ”

“She was having carbonated water, I highly doubt that affected her cognition,” Gamora snorted, though she couldn’t help but be curious as well. “Was that it?”

Peter flushed. “Yes,” he said quickly.

“Really?” Gamora deadpanned. “Your face says otherwise.”

Peter crossed the room quickly to stand by his bed, his back to her, heart pounding as he began undoing his tie. She thinks I like you. “C’mon, Gamora, Mantis and I might be back on track, but it don’t mean I understand everything she says and does.” She thinks I wish this was for real. “She hasn’t been around other people much, so getting to spend time with another girl - woman - is a good thing. And now she knows you're a friend. That’s probably what she meant.” She thinks I want you to stay. “She’s glad you’re here.”

I think she’s right. ______

Peter was sprawled across his bed, staring intently at the high ceiling with long, dangling lights that formed a geometric pattern his brain couldn’t comprehend at eight in the morning (or really, ever). He screwed his eyes shut in frustration. It was the last day of their Xandar trip, before they would have to return to a different kind of reality - one where his father ambled about, lurking like some affable, old-school Bond villain, where Gamora’s father sat comfortably in a stone throne millions of miles away, contemplating destruction like he was deciding what to have for breakfast, and where he and Gamora were friends with a marriage certificate and an expiry date.

“You seem very fascinated with the ceiling. Should I even ask?” His eyes flew open to see a fully-dressed Gamora standing over him, looking mildly amused. “Come on, Quill, we’ll miss the car if you don’t get ready right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting up.” He sat up slowly, watching her as she took a couple steps backward to give him space. “Hey, uh, thanks.”

“For what?”

“For dealing with all that stuff with me and Mantis. And all the other times you’ve, I dunno, helped me out.” Peter smiled at her, something soft, a little crooked, but entirely endearing. Gamora bit her lip to stop herself from smiling back. “Uh, not that it’s your job or anything, but...I’m glad you’re here. For me. With me? You know, like…” He trailed off awkwardly.

She paused before shaking her head and walking away. “Now who’s being cryptic? Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted half-heartedly at her retreating back.

All things considered, their days at the outreach center were going quite smoothly. Gamora worked in the back with her people, where they carried out odd jobs here and there, chatting amicably. It was busy work, but it was better than the kind of jobs they were usually given. Peter and Mantis were out at the very front of the building, greeting and subsequently charming everyone that walked through the door. It was what they were good at - the sunny smiles, the friendly small talk, things Gamora could only muster on her best day. She couldn’t help but eye the group of young women who swept into the building first thing every morning since they had opened, who insisted on practically swarming Peter, asking if she really existed. It made Gamora itch, though she wasn’t sure why.

“She’s real shy sometimes. Not really a people person,” Peter would say with a wry chuckle. “But she’s great! I’m glad I married her.” Gamora would then feel silly for eavesdropping in the first place, retreating quietly before Peter could notice.

Today, however, was a different story. Nova Prime briefed them on the press’s perception of Gamora, how they had seen so little of her that they were starting to suspect she was as cold as her reputation implied. It resulted in Gamora and Mantis switching places, much to her dismay.

“This can’t be good,” Gamora murmured. She and Peter were stood side-by-side in the lobby, near the reception area. “Quill, these are ex-criminals we’re dealing with. Someone’s going to recognize me from what was likely their worst memory, and it won’t end well.”

“There won’t be that many people. First day was super busy, but now? Nah,” Peter said, waving it off. “Besides, I’m here. I’ll fend ‘em off if you want me to.”

“Yes, because a few training sessions makes you an expert at combat all of a sudden,” Gamora said dryly.

“I mean if they start acting like assholes. They’re not dumb enough to start a fight,” Peter corrected. “And hey, gimme some credit. I’ve been doing pretty awesome lately, you said it yourself!”

“You throwing me on the mat every now and then doesn’t mean you can actually beat me,” she teased, relaxing.

“Give it a few more rounds and I just might,” he grinned, gently nudging her with his shoulder. Gamora smiled back, shaking her head with a soft huff of quiet laughter.

“Hey, Quill! Quit flirtin’ with your wife and help me move these boxes ‘fore everyone gets here!” Yondu hollered from down the hallway.

“I’m not - oh god,” Peter groaned. “I’ll be right back, ignore him - ”

“I always do,” Gamora called as he jogged away.

Once the facility had opened for the day, Gamora found herself keeping her guard up, smiling tightly at everyone who came through. Peter did most of the talking, shaking hands and explaining what the outreach center was for. To her surprise, many of the visitors weren’t ex-convicts, but rather, affluent society members looking to provide donations or sponsorship. “You look confused,” Peter whispered after yet another sweet, older couple dropped by to hand over a stack of blank cheques.

“Sometimes I forget...some people are just inherently good.” Gamora looked at him with a rueful smile. “Maybe these people have ulterior motives, maybe they’re seeking a monument in their name. Or a way to cover their sins. But maybe they just want to help.”

Peter paused. “You projecting a little?”

“Maybe,” Gamora repeated, shaking her head. “It’s things like this that make me wonder if...if going after your father will do more harm than good. This could be your and Mantis’s legacy - well, hers, mostly - and I’m just ruining the potential of it by asking you to help me kill my father.”

“Our legacy,” Peter corrected, “will be stopping him, once and for all. Don’t mean this place will be going anywhere. Don’t mean any of us have to go anywhere. I really like doing this, this helping people thing. Makes me feel useful. And hey, you’re welcome to join me.”

“You really want me to stay, don’t you?” Gamora said, biting her lip.

“You’re my friend, Gamora.” Peter’s eyes were earnest, sincere. “I like hanging out with my friends. And if I get to do cool stuff with my friends, like kick some ass and help save lives? Sounds like a pretty awesome legacy to me.” Before Gamora could respond, the door swung open. A pair of familiar-looking Nova officers marched in, dragging a trio of handcuffed convicts along between them. She inhaled sharply at the sight. Here we go.

“Your highnesses,” Denarian Saal droned, sounding as bored as ever. “Nova Prime has requested we register these prisoners for the high-level rehabilitation program. We have their biometrics and IDs.”

“Sign in with Bereet,” Peter replied, gesturing behind him towards the Krylorian receptionist. “I’ll go see if any of the counselors are available for consultations, though I think they’re pretty booked right now.”

Gamora watched him rather nervously as he left, now alone with the officers and the snarling prisoners, who were rattling their chains like they were still behind bars. It was a familiar sound, some grotesque melody that she had hoped to never hear again. One of them, a particularly ugly-looking Badoon, growled at her, deep and guttural.

“Princess Gamora,” he sneered mockingly. “What a joke. Who could look at a monster like you, and call you a princess?”

“Your words will not phase me,” she replied calmly. “So save your voice for your counselor. You will need it.”

“Did you feel like royalty when you tore apart my village, princess?” the Sneeper with pointy teeth hissed. “You must have been so proud, driving your sword into the heart of my child.” The chains rattled again, this time more threateningly.

“You really are wasting everyone’s time,” Gamora said, plastering a fake smile as one of the donors waved goodbye on their way out of the building. “Officers, are you done yet?”

“Does your husband know you leave death everywhere you walk? He must, since you killed your brother at your own wedding!” the Badoon chuckled gleefully.

It was then that Peter returned, followed by one of the counselors. “They’re ready for ‘em, officers,” he said cheerfully before joining Gamora once more. “What’d I miss?” he asked, completely oblivious.

“Do you share a bed with your wife, Prince Peter?” The last prisoner, a smug-looking Rajak, smirked lecherously.

“That’s - super inappropriate to ask, what the hell,” Peter grimaced. “Have you been dealing with these jerks while I was gone? I shouldn’t’ve left, sorry - ”

“It’s fine, Quill, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” Gamora said cooly.

“She doesn’t even call you by your name!” the Rajak hooted. “And here I thought, maybe the little princess found someone as bloodthirsty as she was. But you’re just her pet, aren’t you? Do you roll over and show your belly, your highness? Or maybe you get on your knees instead, I bet she likes that - ”

“Officers, I don’t think these prisoners are ready for the rehabilitation program,” Peter said loudly, looking to the receptionist’s desk. “Tell Nova Prime to send them back. Maybe we’ll get a counselor over to you instead.”

“One second,” Denarian Saal called back impatiently, clearly uninterested in anything Peter had to say.

“You should know, your highness, that your precious wife takes great pleasure in everything she does,” the Sneeper simpered, yanking especially hard on his chains. “There was a Levian I shared a cell with, back on the Kyln. He told me of the time a mysterious traveler appeared in his town, seeking shelter. The lord of the land took her in, thinking she was a fragile young woman. She seduced him, of course. Made him feel special. She left within the week, and took all of his money and heirlooms with her, but not before killing the mysterious life force that powered their hearts.”

“I - ” Gamora began, but the Badoon interrupted next.

“Did you ever hear of her last mission before she decided to settle down with you?” He smirked. “You must have heard of Ronan the Accuser, your highness. They were on their way to Morag, seeking the Infinity Stone together, but I guess that didn’t mean much to her. She practically tore him apart for looking at her wrong, before Thanos got there and decided to finish the job himself. Though can you blame him? Your wife is quite the looker, your highness, even when she’s drenched in blood.”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Peter said firmly. His hands were held high, the light glowing rather menacingly from his fingertips. “What, you think telling me that stuff is gonna make me change my mind? Or that talkin’ shit about my wife helps your case? You think it’s gonna make your lives any easier?”

“Quill, it’s not worth it,” Gamora insisted, reaching for him.

“You speak of good deeds while you stand beside the woman who carved the galaxy’s history with her sword,” the Rajak spat. “We’ve all heard tales of the infamous Prince Peter, the powerful, charismatic do-gooder, but from what I can see, he’s either a coward or just stupid.”

“Hey!” Gamora barked, stepping in front of Peter. She wasn’t sure when she had drawn her sword, but it now weighed heavy in her hands, ready to strike, and now he was the one attempting to pull her away. “Choose your next words wisely. And keep our names out of your filthy mouth.”

“Well, I - ” With an unceremonious cry, the three prisoners jolted violently before collapsing to the ground, revealing Denarian Dey standing behind them, brandishing his stun baton. Denarian Saal was stood nearby, looking even more unimpressed than usual.

“Sorry about that,” Denarian Dey said cheerfully. “We always thought these guys weren’t really ready yet, but Nova Prime seemed optimistic. Back to the Kyln they go!”

“You guys need to do a better job at screening these dudes,” Peter said, staring down at the unconscious bodies sprawled awkwardly on the floor. “Did you hear all that crap they just said about Gamora?”

“Well, it’s not like they were entirely...wrong,” Denarian Dey coughed awkwardly, looking nervously at Gamora. It was then that she realized he was eyeing her sword, still held high, and she quickly tucked it away. “Um, no offense, your highness.”

“None taken,” she said, letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, though her heart was still hammering wildly in her chest like some sick adrenaline rush. “As I said, nothing I haven’t heard before.”

The Nova officers dragged the unconscious prisoners out the door as the receptionist stared on, open-mouthed. Peter stepped closer to Gamora once the doors were shut, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “Hey, you okay?”

“I don’t need reassurance after every confrontation, you know,” Gamora said with a wobbly smile. “I’m fine. I can handle it myself.”

“I was thinkin’ you don’t have to,” Peter said, reluctant to let go. “You need someone, you got me.”

“I just...I need a moment. Alone.” Gamora pulled herself out of his grasp, though not unkindly.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Peter nodded sharply. “Uh, there’s a storage room back there that’s basically empty, so no one’s gonna barge in. I’ll come find you later?”

“Okay,” she repeated. She felt like she was operating on autopilot, her mind overwhelmed with all the images, the absolutely awful images that had come flooding back to her. The smell of blood was more familiar to her than the smell of flowers, the feeling of a weapon in her hands more comforting than the touch of another person. She wanted that to change - no, needed it to change.

Gamora looked up at Peter, wondering what he was thinking. What had he pictured in his mind when he first heard of her? Did he think she took pleasure in what she did? Did he know how far she had gone, how far gone she was? All she could see in his face was concern, not of her, but for her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I’ll cover for you if Nova Prime asks,” Peter added. “Though I think once she hears the story, she’ll probably apologize to you. Again.”

“She had hope,” Gamora shrugged. “She thought they were ready, and they weren’t. They were just as hungry and reckless as before.”

Peter looked at her consideringly. “You’re projecting again,” he said, though not accusingly. “You sure you wanna be alone with your thoughts?”

“Up until recently, they were all I had.” She took another step back, giving him a tight smile. “See you later, Quill.” ______

Hey.” Peter entered the storage room once Gamora had allowed him in, silently closing the door behind him. “Denarian Dey says they don’t have anyone else comin’ in, so you’re good to go back out whenever. Or, y’know, never. If you wanna just sit here.”

Gamora was sat, curled into herself, on the floor of the room, the fluorescent light only further emphasizing the exhaustion in her eyes. She looked... sad. Angry, hurt, even guilty, Peter thought he had seen it all on her before, but not like this. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“You want me to leave?” Peter asked. Wordlessly, Gamora shook her head. Peter approached her slowly as if she were akin to a spooked animal before sitting down across from her, legs folded beneath him. “That stuff they said about you - ”

“It’s all true,” Gamora interrupted. “And it’s like I told Nova Prime - having my record wiped doesn’t make me any less of a criminal. Marrying you doesn’t make me any less of a coward. I lost control again. I almost killed someone, and for what, for taunting me? For trying to get to you? Thanos was right. I am weak.”

“No, you are the bravest person I’ve ever met,” Peter insisted. “You came up with this plan all on your own because you couldn’t stand the idea of watching anyone else die. You betrayed Thanos by coming to me with your own agenda. You taught me about stuff I didn’t know I had in me, and you saved my life. That don’t sound weak to me.”

“A stronger person would have confronted Thanos from the beginning,” Gamora replied. “A stronger person would have accepted death, instead of being the cause of everyone else’s.”

“You were a kid,” Peter exclaimed. “You were scared, and alone. You had to fight for yourself. C’mon, Gamora. You wanna be a good person?”

“Yes, but - ”

“Then you start by giving a shit.” Peter said it so bluntly that Gamora couldn’t help but choke out a laugh. “I’m serious! And you’ve already done that by showin’ up here and tellin’ me you want to stop Thanos from destroying the galaxy. So don’t give up. I haven’t seen you do it yet, and I don’t think you’re about to start.”

Continuing to chuckle softly, Gamora unfurled her arms from around her knees, stretching out her legs until they brushed against Peter’s. He shivered a little at her touch. “Survival is what I’m best at,” she said. “And I’ll make sure to keep everyone safe, too. That’ll be my job.”

“There you go,” Peter grinned. “And Gamora...all those things you’ve done...you’re just tryna make them right. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“I guess I won’t know until it’s done.” Gamora stood slowly, brushing the dust off her pants. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually miss being on Ego. Xandar feels like a place I could never survive in.”

“Survive?”

“I meant live,” Gamora corrected, though even she didn’t look so sure. She paused. “Maybe there is no home for me after all. I could just be a wanderer after this. Float among the stars.”

“As weirdly poetic - and morbid - as that sounds, my offer is still on the table, if you aren’t sick of me yet,” Peter said half-jokingly, also getting to his feet.

“If I left the moment I was getting sick of you, I would have been gone within the first ten minutes,” Gamora said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll consider it. Ask me again after our fathers are dead.”

“Now there’s a sentence,” Peter whistled. “I’ll go grab Yondu and let ‘im know. Let’s go home.”

a/n: hey, all! not sure why i said i'd be posting this in the first two weeks of march when i knew very well that i had midterms, but i hope you enjoyed this (both late and short-er) chapter! next chapter will be late april, as I have a non-au peter/gamora oneshot that i'm hopefully posting on my birthday (second week of april) and i've got finals in mid-april.

the song peter was listening to in gamora's room is everybody plays the fool by the main ingredient. also, i’ve been getting requests for chapter previews lately, so feel free to do so by sending me an ask (though not right away, I just barely started writing chapter six, haha).

thanks so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and i'll see y'all in the next one!

[spinningbuster98]

It’s just that i realised, as time passed, that when compared with other series I like I...don’t seem to care about Sonic that much anymore and that sucks, because it used to be my number 1 series, but it’s like all the excitement gets sucked out of me with each new game.

I like the Classics, but I can’t deny that I simply have a soft spot for Sonic 1 and nothing more.

Sonic CD is a game I’d love to like more due to its aesthetics and music but I can’t be arsed to praise it as much as many others here do  because its level design is an absolute mess and the time travel mechanic is horribly obnoxious AND underutilised at the same time.

Sonic 2 and 3 are the ones I like the most, heck 3 is one of my all time faves and that hasn’t really changed.

I used to love SA1 as a kid, but as an adult I can’t stand 90% of the game. Sure Sonic’s portion is great, possibily my favourite 3D gameplay in the series! But Tails is the definition of undercooked, Knuckles is alright, Amy is way too basic, Gamma is also very undercooked with his level design, and Big is Big.

I’ve actually grown to like SA2 more over time, but it’s weird: I like the Speed stages but not as much as Sonic’s gameplay in SA1, the Mech stages are actually quite decent despite not belonging at all in a Sonic game. And the Treasure hunting stages are 50/50 but mostly decent (I actually love Security Hall, sue me :P). So yeah I mostly like the game but also for reasons that have little to do with a Sonic game since most of it is technically not a Sonic game

I haven’t played Heroes in a long while since my ps2 died but I remember thinking it was decent but far too padded out.

Shadow and 06 need no explanation

Unleashed I’m pretty much in the same boat as many: love the daytime stages, but since the Werehog stages are far longer that means I don’t like over half of the experience

I have never liked the Advance games, not even as a kid.

Advance 1 was always diet Sonic 3 to me, ok but nothing special, and it goes backwards in how it handles special stages

Advance 2 is far too hectic, it feels like you’re holding down right on the d pad the whole time without really engaging with the level in any meaningful way and the bosses and special stages speak for themselves

Advance 3 is not much better to me

Rush is...ok, but also padded out due to Blaze’s campaign being a reshuffled version of Sonic’s, with mostly irritating bosses. It’s better than Advance 2 I find but still a bit mindless with its level design

It’s been ages since I played Rush Adventure but I remember actually finding the levels better!...but of course there’s the sailing

I actually do like Colors from start to finish despite its quirks, I guess it’s also one of my faves...but kinda like SA2 it’s not what I’d call an ideal Sonic game due to its major ephasis on platforming (platforming which I like actually, especially when you throw Wisps and Red Ring collecting into the mix) over speed, so again it’s kinda weird to me

I mostly like Gens from top to bottom as well, though it’s always irritated me how light on content that game was

I actually don’t hate Sonic 4 but...yeah

Same goes for Lost World: I don’t hate it, I find it somewhat enjoyable...but it’s just ok to me

I’ve never played the Boom games and I don’t think I need to

I don’t think Forces is the spawn of Satan but just by looking at it I can tell I’d find it passable at best.

And while I love Mania it irks me to no end how the only game in ten years that I’ve really liked in this series is the one that rehashes old levels like it’s no tomorrow, pretty much sending the message in big glowing letters that Sonic used to be good but never will be again unless we just throw away all that came from 1998 onwards, which is a sentiment I think is useless as there’s nothing that excludes the possibility that a Modern game can be as good as a classic but y’know

And finally Frontiers. When it was announced my reaction “Huh...well let’s hope they stick the landing this time”. By comparison when the likes of Dread and MM11 were announced I jumped for joy! And it’s not like I think everything they’ve shown us is shit, in fact I’m quite interested in the open world gameplay and even the combat! (And I also quite like the music they’ve shown us till now, especially I’m Here) But the level design of the Cyberspace levels, coupled with the blatant trend following exhibited in the way the game is desperately aping BOTW and Shadow of the Colossus, is already leaving me with mixed feelings

Sorry for the long rant, and the negativity, and I know I say this to you all the time, but I just wanted to get this stuff off my chest. I just want to be excited for the series again and have a reason to look forward to its future :(

Sorry for the depressing ask but, as a Sonic fan, do you ever get the feeling that of the many games in the series you only really like five of them more or less? 'Cause I do, often, and it's discouraging :/

No? I like most of them. I haven't played many of the latest games, but of the ones I've played, I've been rarely disappointed. In fact, I struggle to choose my least favorite Sonic game because my mind always goes to the Game Gear spinoffs and that feels like shooting at the Red Cross :P

I don't know what to tell you if you feel like that, but you're not doing anything wrong if you like only a handful of games, it happens.

[mbtizone]

Kitty Forman (That '70s Show): ESFJ

Dominant Extroverted Feeling [Fe]: Kitty is very emotionally expressive. It’s very easy for her to talk about her feelings, and she wants other people to discuss theirs as well. When there’s a conflict in her household, Kitty wants to talk it out. Sometimes, Kitty feels unappreciated and taken for granted by her husband and children. She loves validation, attention, and compliments. Kitty wants to be needed and useful to others. Because she’s so compassionate and kind, Kitty is a natural at taking care of people (especially since she’s a nurse) and has very keen maternal instincts, accepting all of Eric’s friends into her home and often acting as a surrogate mother to them. She doesn’t want Eric growing up and leaving home because she enjoys her role as a mother and a nurturer. It’s almost as though she doesn’t know who she is without anyone to look after. When Kitty begins menopause, she’s very upset at the thought of not being able to have another baby, but when Red reminds her that someday she’ll have grandchildren, she gets very happy and excited. When Eric wants to move after graduation, she’s angry and upset. When someone says Kitty is pretty, she becomes overjoyed, giggling and smiling. Kitty likes for things to be civil and harmonious. Whenever there’s tension between Eric and Red, she tries to smooth it over. “What your father means is…” Kitty is warm, affirming, and encouraging, and can become sensitive when others don’t reciprocate. She’s always there for people who are in need. Kitty cares what other people think of her, as well as her family and wants to project a good image to the outside world. She wants to be socially appropriate and she likes for other people to think that she has the “perfect” family.

Auxiliary Introverted Sensing [Si]: Tradition is very important to Kitty. She enjoys holidays and making a big deal out of birthdays. Kitty isn’t particularly adventurous and doesn’t mind her daily routine for the most part. Kitty often returns to her familiar comforts, such as drinking or smoking. She likes to do things the right way. Kitty has an eye for detail and likes everything just so. She goes to church every Sunday because that’s the right thing to do, and gets very upset when her family doesn’t want to continue going, believing that they won’t get into Heaven. She’s also uncomfortable going alone, because she’s afraid of what other people might think or say (Fe-Si).

Tertiary Extroverted Intuition [Ne]: Every once and a while, Kitty wants to do something spontaneous, and gets upset when Red gives her a hard time about it. Let’s go dancing! Let’s go out to dinner somewhere nice! However, because Red has higher Si than she does, and therefore, lower Ne, he has no desire to deviate from his usual routine. He’s very happy to go to work, come home, and spend the entire day in the house. Sometimes, Kitty is good at making connections and seeing what’s really going on. On occasion, Kitty’s imagination can be a bit overactive, imagining vivid fantasies or possibilities that would never really happen, like when she visualized her ideal family life, filled with singing, dancing, and happiness, just like the Brady’s (Fe-Ne). However, because she has lower Ne, these possibilities can easily turn negative, and she uses them to think of all the worst-case scenarios, such as when Eric and his friends are celebrating his birthday in the house while Kitty and Red are next door at Bob and Midge’s, and she imagines Eric strapped to a chair while his friends engage in morally questionable behavior.

Inferior Introverted Thinking [Ti]: It’s not easy for Kitty to put her feelings aside and think rationally. She can be overly sensitive at times, and instead of taking the time to analyze situations, she typically just reacts emotionally instead. Kitty will place importance on facts that she agrees with, and dismiss what she disagrees with. After Red’s heart attack, the doctor gives them a list of things that need to be cut out of his diet, and, in order to be supportive, she tells him that she’ll do it with him to be healthier. She accepts every point on the list, until she gets to the part about giving up alcohol, and immediately calls the doctor “a quack.”

Enneagram: 2w3 So/Sp

Quotes:

Kitty: Okay Red, I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just remember, Santa is a cheerful, jolly fellow, who never calls a child “dumbass”.

Little Girl #2: I want a flying car. Red: I did too when I was your age, kid. But then the future came… and took my dreams away. Just like it’s gonna take yours. [the girl gapes] Kitty: Okay, okay little girl, y’know what? I bet if you’re extra good, you’ll get your flying car one day. [Kitty and the girl walk away] Red: [calling after them] Don’t listen to her, it’s a lie. [Kitty turns to Red, glaring at him] Kitty: [chiding] Bad Santa!

[Red has just finished telling the boy his version of Vietnam War] Red: …and that’s what really happened in Vietnam. Young Boy #2: [confused] I don’t understand. Red: [glumly] Neither do I, kid. Neither do I. Kitty: Okay, little boy, time to say goodbye to Santa. [Kitty leads the boy away. The boy turns to her] Young Boy #2: What’s an “ambush���? Kitty: [smiles] It’s a pretty bush with yellow flowers. [Red gets up and approaches Kitty] Red: Kitty, I gotta tell ya, I’m good with kids. I really taught him something. Y’know, I think I’m beginning to feel the Christmas spirit. Kitty: Well, I’m glad Red, but let’s try telling a Christmas story where nobody gets caught in a fire fight.

Donna Pinciotti: This entire room is an example of bad taste. [Kitty and Red walk into the living room] Kitty: Excuse me? Donna Pinciotti: Mrs Forman- Kitty: I have spent years picking out every item of this room, surrounding myself with the things I love and the people I thought loved me.

Kitty: Oh he gave you shoes. What do you say Red? Red: [To Bob] What the hell’s wrong with you? Kitty: Or we say thank you very much.

Red: Shoes are an innaprorpiate gift to give to another man. Kitty: How about when you joined the service? Another man issued your boots. Red: So he gave me a gun so I let it go. Kitty: Why can’t you just accept the gift because Bob is your friend? Red: Kitty you don’t understand how men work out. We dont give each other presents. We just basiclly ignore each other until we score a touchdown.

Kitty: You have been such a big help, working yourself nearly to death. I made you your special sandwich. Eric: Awww. The ‘Eric McSweety’.

Donna Pinciotti: You’re babying him. Kitty: I’m not. Donna Pinciotti: Are there crusts on that sandwich? Kitty: Of course not! Crusts are icky, they make Eric sicky. Oh, my God, I am babying him!

Red: [not looking up from paper] You don’t have a date, do ya? Eric: [Walking over, Donna mirroring his direction] Okay. You know what? It’s not about “can I get a date?” It’s about this great book that I’m like, halfway through. Plus, you know, I could get a date. [Red laughs once] Eric: I got numbers, Buddy. Kitty: Sure you do, Honey. You’re number 1 with me!

Kitty: [Kitty is recording an audio tape for Eric in Africa] Eric! Steven just punched Michael! [regains composure] Kitty: And although I am upset with Steven for hitting Michael, it was very exciting!

Reginald ‘Red’ Forman: So you’re too proud to take her back? And what do you have to be so proud of? You’re not an athlete. The only smart thing about you is your mouth. And look at you. Kitty: Red… Red, he looks fine. He’s just so darn stupid! I’m… I’m very upset. Eric: Well, stop, okay? Because, I already feel bad enough as it is. Kitty: Well, you should. Eric: Well, I do!

Kitty: [talking to a fish in a distorted voice] Um… people really depended on me, which I kind of miss, although I don’t really miss the bedpans.

Red: [to Hyde after yelling at him for taking the blame for Jackie having dope] If you ever do anything like that again I’ll kick your ass until your nose starts to bleed. Kitty: And we love you.

Kelso: Ya know guys, there are a lot of ladies out there and I haven’t seen nearly enough of them naked. From now on, I’m gonna live free. I’m going to be boldly going where no man has gone before. [the next scene shows the Forman’s front door. The doorbell rings and Kitty answers the door. Kelso is standing there holding flowers] Kelso: Is Laurie here? Kitty: [laughs] Don’t you mean Eric? Kelso: No, Laurie. Your other kid. [Hyde walks by and stops when he sees Kelso] Hyde: You’re dating Laurie? Man, you’re going where every man has gone before. Kitty: [turns around] Steven it is not nice to be so… truthful. [Laurie comes down the stairs] Laurie: Hi, Kelso. [notices the flowers] Laurie: Did you buy those for me? Kelso: Yep, just like you told me. Laurie: No, I told you roses! Come on, doofus! [she walks out the door with Kelso] Hyde: You know Mrs. Forman, those two could have the dumbest babies ever. Kitty: [starts to laugh then abruptly stops and turns toward Hyde] That’s not funny.

Kitty: Sweetie, white lies help relationships. Like, ‘Kitty, even though your pot roast was overdone, I still loved it.’ Red: Oh for the love of God, I did love it. You’re a pot roast genius, okay? It was like eating gold. Hyde: So you’re saying lying is good? Kitty: Exactly. Now go do the right thing, and lie to the woman you love.

Eric: Then they go into this bar and there are all these space creatures. Then someone makes the mistake of picking on Obi-Wan Kenobi. And then he takes out his lightsaber and he goes “whoosh” and he chops this guy’s arm right off… ’cause it’s a saber that’s made out of light! Kitty: You know, this doesn’t sound like a nice movie. Now, The Way We Were, that’s a nice movie.

Kitty: We are very disappointed in you, Eric. Even though going to California to rescue Donna is one of the most romantic things I have ever heard of.

Eric: Oh, hey, here comes a dumb question. Uh, I wasn’t a mistake, was I? Kitty: Oh, for… for… Okay! Who wants some cocoa?

Kitty Forman (That ’70s Show): ESFJ was originally published on MBTI Zone