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#even typing their ship name is funny to me

kipperlillyforpresident · 2 days

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Legally you are required to tell me your thoughts on oisin/kipperlilly and lucy/ivy

OKAY SO. oisin x kipperlilly is a really funny story, actually.

i've been rotating around different ship ideas with @ivyembracertifiedbitch , and we landed on thinking that buddy x ivy is really fun. in that ivy is constantly ""tempting him into sin"" (literally just like. Kissing Him.) and the idea that well, buddy doesnt kill people, Helio kills people and sometimes acts through buddy. and if buddy doesnt do anything and just lets ivy kiss him then he's not really doing anything it's just happening To him. and so its acceptable.

and then we were talking about oisin making fun of ivy for this. and i said ivy might say "well, at least IM kissing MY uptight blond, unlike you lmao".

and when i said this, i was meaning adaine. but he replied "oh do you want to share your kipperlilly x oisin thoughts?" and i was like... well i didnt mean that. but now let me Cook.

Basically, here's my main thoughts:

We canonically know that Kipperlilly had a strong instinct to 'protect Oisin', as seen in the Aelwyn convo.

Oisin is the only other Rat Grinder we see actively Enacting plots - teleportation at last stand, pingponggate, etc.

Although Kipperlilly definitely WANTS to be the leader, there's a good case to be made that Oisin is the one who is actually SEEN as the leader among TRG - he's the one who helped get the name changed, after all.

We know that Oisin's type is 'academic blond girl who has 100 mental illnesses.'

So I think this combination of facts can be used in some very fun ways!

Kipperlilly, who hates that Oisin is doing so much better then her, getting to lead the adventuring party, who has a stupid fucking Special Backstory with his grandma. And yet. And yet.

She sees first hand how hard he works, and she has to respect that. It makes her want to work even harder. Nobody else seems to be taking this seriously, but Oisin IS.

An alternative and funny scenario is the idea of them fake dating to try and make Lucy/Kristen/Ivy/Whoever you please as a crush for Kipperlilly & Adaine jealous. And then it just works out a little too well...?

Ivy x Lucy I don't have as much of an insane ramble for. But it's mainly built on these things:

Ivy was the one who saw Fake Lucy at the party. That feels like symbols and motifs, right...? Ivy seeing Fig's disguise and immediately knowing it's not Lucy. She would know.

I want Lucy to be weirder and not Dead Wife Montage and i think dating a mean girl would be an excellent way to achieve this.

#kipperlilly copperkettle #oisin hakinvar #ivy embra #lucy frostblade #hakinkettle #embrafrost #<< my proposed ship names

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notnights · 3 months

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Pomni x Gummigoo name that FunnyGummy.

#maybe even funnygummi #ship names that are funny to say or puns are the only valid types of ship names to me

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xmcu-fietro · 2 years

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quote from Arrested Development 4x03

[arguing about who should take acting classes]

Ralph: Well, perhaps we should go together!

Agnes, considering: ...Yeah. Might be good for us as a couple.

Ralph: I do hope so. I really want to make this work.

Agnes, smiling unconvincingly: Me too. I really love you, Ralph.

Ralph, taking her hand: Oh Agnes...

Ralph: We have got to get you to that acting clinic.

#i feel like this isn't as funny when it's typed out but it worked in the episode i promise xD #but I thought this might work since Ralph’s job within the hex is acting #oh my gosh no do they have a ship name 💀#what would it even be??#let me think for a second #(bohn)er + ag(nes) = bohnes #like 'bones'#because marvel didn't have the guts to make him peter maximoff #wandavision #ralph wandavision #ralph bohner #agnes wandavision #agatha harkness #arrested development #incorrect quotes

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thebibliosphere · 9 months

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I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

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dunmeshistash · 29 days

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What do you think about Shuro? And more specifically his relationship with Laios, and idk if you talk about ships but what are your thoughts on laishuro

I have this headcannon that Laios has some sort of unrequited crush on Shuro just because it's sorta funny

I ship pretty much everything. Like, as default I think everyone should kiss everyone 👍

If I'm honest I'm not much of a Shuro fan, he's a little boring to me and reactions to the chimera episode made me dislike him a bit lmao.

Ignoring the fandom I like him as a character and I LOVE his fight with Laios. Shuro's relationship to Laios is my favorite part of that character so laishuro pretty much saves him for me.

In universe Shuro is said to be quite the introvert even for people from his country. He's not the standard for someone from the eastern archipelago and it bothered me a bit when people used that to justify how he wasn't honest to Laios. I understand the idea that he comes from somewhere where reading social cues is not only expected but required but he's also someone who avoids confrontation and is quiet/shy in general.

Here's a bit from Maizuru's description from the adventurer's bible

"People tend to describe Shuro as "drab" and "shy" (...)" so specifically HE IS the exact type of person who would cause the biggest misunderstanding with Laios, just compare him to how his retainers or even his father and brothers act.

It took them saying they used ancient magic on Falin/seeing chimera Falin for him to finally snap, everything else he decided to just take it cause he thought it was better to take it than to confront Laios directly.

So besides the cultural differences you have to take into consideration this was pretty much the perfect storm brewing for that confrontation, and it's as much who Shuro is as a person and who Laios is as person that caused it.

I also disagree that the fight was a "they're both in the wrong" situation. Don't get me wrong, Laios was VERY culturally insensitive to Shuro and even more insensitive to his feelings, but there was nothing he could have done differently with the information that was available to him.

Specifically I see this comic being used to justify how Laios was to blame too, making Shuro into the victim

Like that's a major white guy move but he DIDN'T HEAR Shuro's name and Shuro never corrected him. I'd understand it if his reaction was "Your name is too complicated so I'll call you Shuro instead" that would be a major dick move, but Laios did not hear his name because Toshiro mumbled it, and for someone that forgot Kabru's name several times I imagine he made an effort to remember Shuro's.

Laios never met someone from the eastern archipelago before this, nobody ever explained to him he wasn't acting in an appropriate manner and most of all he thought they were friends. He trusted Shuro to set boundaries for him, he always respects boundaries that are set even when he doesn't fully understand them (Recalling the "I forgot about feelings.." when Chilchuck says it feels wrong to eat merman)

Instead of explaining ANYTHING to Laios, Shuro instead held it all in until it exploded all at once, he blamed Laios for not knowing something he couldn't know, and accused him of not being serious about saving his own sister.

Just imagine how this must have felt for Laios, everyone is always underestimating how serious he is, everyone accuses him of being stupid, clueless, and now this guy is telling him he isn't serious about saving the person he loves the most in the world and wants to protect always. To me this wasn't a "they're both in the wrong" situation, Shuro is far more in the wrong than Laios. But that's just how I see it.

That all being said, they understood each other finally and made peace after that fight.

And several times after this we see that Shuro really cares for Laios, and Laios still wants to be his friend. He even offered to save Laios if he fails (and he's sure he's gonna fail). So their relationship is dear to me, especially cause after this they finally have the foundation for a true mutual friendship <3

I think my dislike of Shuro comes from relating to him to be honest, it happens often that I see my own failures on a character and get angry at them for being angry at myself lmao. I also got a little annoyed cause I only saw people defending him, apparently those were made as a response to hate he had gotten? But since I never actually seen the hate it just felt annoying to see Shuro being white knighted.

Anyway I love the two of them together and I'm really happy they finally understood each other better. laishuro might be my favorite Laios ship, one sided crushes are great.

#Sorry I dont like being negative and I hope this wasnt too mean towards Shuro #its hard to be objective about him cause of personal feelings but I tried #Dungeon Meshi #Shuro #Laios Touden #Ask #Longpost #Rant #long post #Oh yeah I've said it before but I live under a rock I rarely know whats happening in fandom #might be part of the reason why only the shuro defenses found their way to me #dunmeshi thoughts

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talenlee · 1 year

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Hanamusa, Explained

There is a nonzero chance if you follow me on tumblr, you’ve seen the term ‘Hanamusa’ attached to something I shared. It’s probably also some super cute art of Delia Ketchum and Jessie Teamrocket, and you may wonder what is going on and also, why is there so much good art of this.

Hanamusa as a term derives from the Japanese names of the characters – Hanako and Musashi. If you’re into shipping name structures, Hana-Musa implies that Hanako is the seme and Musashi the uke, but I don’t think that holds for all use cases of the type of terminology. It’s a ship. It’s an AU ship, as in an ‘alternate universe’ ship, where the two characters are presented in a context outside of the normal context of the anime presentation of them.

The Hanamusa ship as I understand it is set at some point after Jessie and James stop chasing Ash around, and Jessie settles down into a relationship with Delia. There’s tension about her history with Ash and the confusion about finding Your Personal Villain dating your mom, but mostly it’s about showing a sweet domestic life between two characters you know very well in a format I kind of see as like, Comedy-Sabot Romantic 4koma. Like, Hanamusa content is funny (and it is VERY funny) but it doesn’t need to be funny, because the main thing it’s about is showing these two characters and their relationship as they do cute things together.

It’s why people watch shows like K-On basically.

As for where this idea comes from, (EDIT: Slightly wonky wording here, I should have phrased 'this current fandom push' - I don't have any reason to believe Mai INVENTED the ship, just that when you go looking you'll wind up at her work) it seems to have its genesis with the work of one Kiana Mai, who developed this ship some time ago. Kiana Mai is also an extremely skilled artist, and one of those skills seems to be focus, creating these extremely clean-line excellently structured scene vignettes with no unnecessary content in them but also no need to rocket along. It’s amazing, engaging work that uses every part of the small format amazingly well. Which makes sense because one of the things Kiana Mai does is storyboarding work for Disney animated TV shows, a task at which I am sure she no doubt excels.

What I think is the most interesting aspect of Hanamusa, to me specifically, is that it manages to combine three things I don’t actually care about, in a way that doesn’t interfere with something I have unexpectedly strong opinions on. I do not watch Pokemon, and I have not shed a tear for Team Rocket and Ash Ketchum wandering into the sunset. That is a show that is not for or about my interests and that is okay. Indeed, imagining that it should be about what interests me is baffling. I think if I stopped watching a show twenty years ago, I have lost all right to act like I’m entitled to expect it remain the way it was all the way back then.

But I do have opinions on Jessie and James’ character voice. Not their voice acting – I mean, I know for a fact they’ve had to change over time and no voice actor should be obligated to kick it in the same role for what could be their entire career. I mean the way they talk about things and the words they use and kind of emphasis they put on words when they talk. About the way they voice their ideas, or the way they express who they are in the way they talk to one another, that stuff. It’s about affordances and persona, about the kind of people you project being by what words you choose to use and the affect when using them.

It’s why when, if a picture of a character is underneath it, you can read some dril posts as being ‘appropriately’ voiced by a character, even if it’s describing a candle situation that Francis Crozier did not have opinions on.

Jessie has a voice.

Jessie, in my head, is someone capable of moments of tenderness and friendship that is normally overwhelmed by an incredible confidence in ability she does not have and mere reality will never be given permission to infringe on it. Jessie is unassailably unstoppably sure of herself, thoughtlessly stupid in a way that doesn’t mean she is stupid, but which exists in a context of someone who has relentlessly pursued excellence in her job which is also the equivalent of being a late night 7/11 manager. She is the Girlboss that is Gaslighting herself into thinking she has something to Gatekeep.

Delia Ketchum by comparison is a very nice piece of wallpaper. Every appearance of her in my mind is someone Very Nice who is Very Patient and Very Supportive and has managed to keep literally all emotionally challenging conversations from happening around Ash, which can be perhaps easier when you remember that he, too, is an idiot. I don’t know how Delia Ketchum talks, but I do know that there are ways that Delia Ketchum does not talk.

This is interesting! It’s interesting because it presents a character where I am very sure I know what she does do when she does it, and a character about whom I can only be sure wouldn’t do some things. It creates a character space, and it creates expectations of affect and performance within that space. Ash and other characters show up as well, but because they get to interact with this already-defined space, you get treated to this really lovely kind of resonance. Would Ash call Jessie ‘dad’? Maybe, to bug her. He was good at being a twerp. Wasn’t he? I mean I remember it that way, he seems to work out that way, but… how would I know?

I know more of this AU where Jessie is studying to be a Pokemon Doctor and Ash wears glasses than I do of the source material any more. And if you’re wondering ‘hey, do Jessie and Delia ever meet in the source material?’ Like, yeah, for a few seconds. What, the point is creating something new.

If you want to check out Hanamusa stuff and read the comics, I recommend going and clicking on the hashtag on tumblr.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Anime #Media

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kelpermoosee · 7 months

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You: And the shy little plumber fell in the love with the big scary ghost Me: Oh my god the shy little plumber fell in love with the big scary ghost. Follow.

Yes!! I enjoy a lot of Luigi ships, but Booigi definitely has to be my favorite! :D

Lengthy Booigi ramble under the cut because I can’t stop myself:

I’ve mentioned this before, but to me there’s just something inherently hilarious about viewing their relationship through a romantic lens. Maybe that’s because of how unconventional their “rivalry” is in canon?

Generally, in enemies to lovers, both characters have a shared animosity towards one another. However, in the Luigi’s Mansion games, it’s clear that this is very one-sided (LOL). King Boo never intended to see Luigi as anything more than some simple hurdle in his evil plans. So it’s funny to see his newfound hatred transform into something more akin to obsession (which he definitely needs to work on).

For Luigi, I don’t think he’s ever hated King Boo? He more or less just sees the ghost as a scary inconvenience. Although, (going into headcanon territory here) I feel like Luigi can’t help but notice how much King Boo seems to subconsciously respect him.

Like sure, the king might be dramatically ranting about how much he hates Luigi, but at least King Boo is taking the time to remember his name and other things about him. Not many other villains (or even allies) tend to offer Luigi that same type of treatment, so to see his supposed “biggest hater” do it is…weird.

Overall, the thing about Booigi is that compared to a lot of other Luigi x (insert villain) ships, their dynamic is a lot more balanced imo. As afraid as Luigi may seem in the games, he is always shown to be completely capable and brave. When fighting King Boo, they’re generally on equal footing with one another as well.

This balance really helps amplify their weird dynamic, because if both of them just calmed down a second, I’m pretty sure they would get along great! Their personalities bounce off each other well, and allow them to really enhance their strengths. They can bond over being constantly overshadowed by others or smth :)

Plus, I think their designs go nicely together! Booigi has this pretty green and purple color scheme going on!! 💚💜

#kelperambles #luigi #king boo #king boo x luigi #luigi x king boo #booigi #boouigi #smb #super mario #super mario bros #anon #anonymous #sorry for rambling about their entire dynamic…AGAIN.#anyways. BOOIGI PROPAGANDA‼️‼️‼️#big fan of drawing ships that make others go ‘wait. people ship this?’#but not in like a weird way. just a silly one :)

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nn-ee-zz · 2 months

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What are your other OC's like? I'm interested in hearing about the stories you came up with for them.

UH OH youre gonna get me talking!

My OCs are NPCs by origin. I was (still am) the DM of my friend group and to get their characters moving along I had to create my own.

Unexpectedly, my friends loved them.

ILYA - unwell henchman

i know its a boys name,

An aiding hand to an ambiguous villain, Ilya was introduced as sneaky, smiling, and untrustworthy. The facade collapsed once she vomited inside a cup after accidentally touching the liquified remains of (unbeknown to her) her younger sibling. The villain is a wizard of great power and transported all the liquid from their body to put out a fire, mummifying and killing the person in the process in an attempt to save several.

She seeks her sibling amongst the city. The tingling awareness of their demise at the hands of the guild she encouraged them to join and growing panic and grief led her to start a fight with someone who is spiraling as well.

She ends up at the local clinic, heavily injured and minus one eye, and spirals further from her injuries, her guilt, and the knowledge her family was correct about her being too mentally fragile to be in the city. Until....

(For now. The overall arc for this character is of recovery and improvement instead of pain and self-destruction. Forgive your past and find value within you that goes beyond self-sacrifice. With the help of others, of course.)

Despite her questionable moral position, a lot of characters feel the need to protect her.

Art - Her wearing another characters shirt and her getting a widdle kiss from said character, because even I (the monster freak artist) have my lovely ships

ED - emo organ trafficker

''Nez, I want my oc to be kidnapped and rescued by another oc'' ''Hm, I'll make up a guy to kidnap them then''

Originally meant to be a minor antagonist that would kidnap a character to harvest their organs and be easily defeated. Villain of the week type.

However, his snarky behavior, violent temperament, fancy victorian-boy-esque looks captured a lot of attention. He is a little freak but his direct words seem to bring out a lot of honesty in other characters.

Fun facts; His name is inspired by Edward Hyde. He is roomates and best friend/adopted sibling to Ilya. He makes an effort to be fancier than he is because he was born a bastard child and forced to be his fathers servant before he murdered his siblings and father and joined the army to escape (where he met ilya and ultimately got adopted into her family <333)

Art - Him, and him as a chibi fighting the guy who rescued the person he kidnapped. They also fall in love

REDD - funny bully

I recently made an oc just to mess around with the players while they were in jail! Well, now one of them drank his blood and is forever connected to him. The other one got her finger broken cuz she poked him. He also had the prision keys the entire time but pretended to be a prisioner as well. What a menace! I love making horrible pests. His name is red cuz thats how the others refered to him, because I described him as having red hair and red eyes.

Isnt it funny how despite being a DM I never use my monster designs?! I find it a lot more interesting to make characters specifically meant to alter the course of the character development of my players. I love to change deeply and irrevocably! : D

#ask #ocs #long post

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t8oo · 2 months

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By all accounts the lupin fandom has always prided itself as a drama free ship war free open to polyamory and wildly different headcanons fandom. And I can name a few people that have worked hard to keep this place very friendly. And I really started in this fandom in a friendly place. I even managed to make friends that Liked Luzeni maybe even just as much as me. I was ecstasic. I really loved those people so much, I talked to them daily. Some of them I respected so much for their craft. Great.

Id always been upfront and very clear that they were befriending someone who was fucked in the head. And i dont mean seasonal depression type I mean Bipolar and Bpd and all the symptoms it entails. Im not even going to mention the upbringing and the life ive had. All of it was a complete and violently abusive catastrophy.

Last year I exhibited symptoms that were intense. TOXIC. It didnt mean that I was toxic to my friend, because I was rational enough to know about boundaries. I was at the end of my rope. For undisclosed reasons I had to be interned. Great. During the ultimate time that lead me to become crazy, not a single person i thought was my friend gave me a hand. I received a message from one friend while I was litteraly perched on the windowsill about to jump telling me about their life. Not asking abt me. I sent some Hey thats cool but im about to kill myself and they didnt reply. Days after I was interned they told me that my message triggered them so they had to have an emergency meeting with their psychiatrist. Cool. Nothing abt me still. Sorry ? Fallout 1

During yhat whole shitstorm and despite everything a friend became my like. favorite person in bpd terms. Just really fucking embarassing shit really. I tried to prevent it, i tried to pull out not to make it worse, which not only was making it worse but was making it toxic. I aparently blew out, which of course my memory conveniently forgot. I said something ahout their partner. They never explained what. Again, after internment I apologized. They told me they needed time. They bsolutely deserved it. I was probably horrible to warrant that reaction. I might even have been toxic. Again, I do not remember what I even said. Im not a demonic entity it couldnt have been like I desacrated them and insulted them beyond repair. Even in my anger I have always been limited. But all i can do is speculate. They never explained, just took my apology. And then They never came back. That friend I liked so much that despite everything I did to control myself became a person i liked beyond wat was normal. We have had so much fun. Not enough to mend bridges or explained anything. Fallout 2

During that blow out one friend meddled, asking that other friend for information ? I asked to pass along a message to friend B. which friend A refused. Like it was not their business, even tho they were clearly invested in the business enough to talk to both of us about it lol. No problem. 4 days ago thou i confronted a group of friends that were friends As friend, for kicking them out of an rp group for no reason, even bordering on racism. My friend feels hurt about that event, has always hinted at it. it even stopped them from rping, something they did for 12 years. They had no closure and so I tried to bring it to them. Asshole move or empathic ? Thinking back i may have been taking the situation personnaly because i was already on my way out menrally. I dont know. All i know is that four days later, after i talked for hours to that group and the reason why they treated my friend so poorly that they still had scars over it, i was experiencing a mental crisis and that friend refused a request. Great. Fallout 3

The last friend litteraly stood by and said nothing. Not before the fallout and not after. I dont even know'if that counts as a fallout. This girl was so cute, so fun, so talented, so FUNNY. And when it came to a heed she said nothing. No side taking. Neutrality. Okay

At this point I no longer had anyone to talk to I think. I was documenting my attempt and the horrible conditions of the psych ward on twitter for everyone of my "friends" to see. One i particularly loved so much because they genuinely were on the same level of insanity related to luzeni made a tweet about the late hystix, a person i did not know but a lot of the lupin fandom did. A beautiful soul that was always supportive and kind. Everyone was mourning her. It was truly heartbreaking. I hope she is in peace. Our attempts matched in timing, it was actually mindblowing. Mine just fucking failed because of nosy neighbors. I feel so close to her in spirit still. That we both struggled so much that we came to the conclusion that nothing could save us. She did not have the nosy neighbors. That friend mourned her publicly.. on twitter. Ok. Logical, its a depressing, horrible and sad situation all around. All we can do is mourn. Still, it was a friend I was genuinely close to. That never showed the empathy they did to me. Hey dude so im kind of facing the exact same issues but you never reached out ? While my torment was there and documented on twitter because again. I did not fucking know wat was going on. I was in a strict mental ward under a lot of dosage from nurses who refused to give me insulin even thou i was type 1. Friend said that they tweeted at me. No mention of the years and years of discussions we had on discord and me checking up on them everytime they pulled out for severe family matters and i was genuinely concerned. Nope they aparently tweeted something at me. Okay. Thank you for the concern. Your investment really shows. Fallout 4

after that I stopped friends all together. The fact that friends I was talking nigh on everyday to each revealed their lack of concern for me during an extreme mental health crisis was abyssmal to say the least.

Fallout 5 came with Sheen. I was managing a charity zine for Palestine, and the lack of investment from so many artists brought me to the edge. I took it out on Sheen in the softest way possible. I told them I was disapointed in their piece and that it looked low effory. Sheen, a person I had knwon for the entirety of my investment in the lupin fandom, decided that an offense was enough to block me and never speak again. Once again i was on the verge of yet another blow out. And it happened. Lol. Its just so funny in retrospect that everytime I start acting weird alluding to a breakdown people shun me out despite, you know. me being clear abt my medical record. I realized that I was rude to Sheen and it was uncalled for. Apologized publicly not in the attempt that Sheen sees it but just so that everyone knows that if they hear abt the story, at least they know its all been my fault. Online friendships are so cool because it just takes the block button to burn bridges without coming back. With no chance of mending or at least a genuine apology. so Fallout 5

Is there a reason that all of these issues happened within one fandom ? I do think so. Unless i am incredibly unlucky. Or an abusive piece of shit unbeknownst to me. I think that the lupin fandom is surface level niceties. If they dont like you you will know. It will be passive but you will be muted and eventually just ostracized. You will not be invited in fandom events, or group discussions. It did not help that my mental health was constantly deteriorating and I started developping a persecution complex, thinking that people were making secret discords where they were telling others to avoid me or something. Ive endured all of this for one thing. One Humiliating thing : i love luzeni. I love it so much I want a tatto of it. I love it so much that after years before sleep I pick a random fic and then imagine their discussions. I love their dynamic so much. I love their romance I love how fucking inhinged they are i love that they hurt and love each other the same, i love that they cant live without the other, that they genuinely complete each other in a really ugly but complete patchwork of mental illness and really elaborate kinks.

I gave up thou. Another depression, I blew out, attempted again with the window, got caught and sent to the hospital. It pulled me back from the fandom. I realized i was allocating so much of my thoughts to it and how I could be better perceived, how I could make friends again to talk about the fictional thing i loved the most in the world. And I realized that in giving up and keeping to myself, that I could be more stable. That the damage was done and I cant really enjoy this fandom anymore, but Im still attached to the hip to luzeni and so in the words of a really brilliant man... Nah... Ill do my own thing.

U might be wondering why the hell is this bitch airing their laundry publicly. Its therapeutic. You dont have to read or care. If those friends see it, and make a comment of their own about how the events did NOT happen like I told, I would love to hear how they perceived it. I do not give my friendship freely and easily and these people have done profound damage to my abilty to trust. And most of all, I never had any closure. I kept rethinking, blaming them, then myself, then miscommunication, then them and then myself again. To this day I dont know why all of this happend. Did I act like an unfathomable monster, or did my friend simply not give a shit enough to help me through this. I dont fucking know and I cant deny either options. Maybe I am talking through a completely selfish wrapped sens of perception that is not to be trusted. I wouldnt be surprised. I have a very hard time relying on my own brain lately. My health is deteriorating very fast, and shit is getting worse.

The second reason is that I am going to be interned for psychiatric issues for the next 3 months. For the first time in my life I think Ill finally get all the professional support i need, available and close. Im not going to be investing any time in the fandom, if simply talking to the psychiatrist abt this catastrophic strings of fallouts. I might be posting some luzenis, but frankly i doubt it. I only make fanart when I am happy, or sad enough but still capable. Im neither right now. You are not entitled to any of these informations, but I just wanted to write them out of my mind because I have a LOT of baggage to go on through and this is an extra bag I dont need so im throwing it out.

You cannot gauge an entire fandom from your perspective, the same way you cannot gauge an entire userbase. No, tiktokers are not the worst people in humanity. Neither are reddit users. Being on tumblr is cool, but it doesnt make u better than being on twitter. And so this is only my opinion of the lupin fandom. I met some amazing persons that i wish the best for, for ever and ever, but in all the niceties and welcoming you might see, I dont think that extends to a person with mental illnesses that are villified, or out of their control. I can fairly say that my experience was disapointing, and I dont intend to rekindle anything. Ill just be on the fringe maintaining the spirit of luzeni alive because fuck you monkey punch these are my characters now by law.

If you read until this bro get a life. Also im joking, youv given me more consideration than most people i met have. If your take after this is that I am deranged, then youv read right.

Thank you for reading. This blog has always been a pleasure to post on, even my most cringe and embarassing shippy stuff. Ive been met with nothint but support, and I truly enjoy being here because of you. I hope this isnt a 3+ month long goodbye. I hope I draw my lovers again. But I cant guarantee anything. I wish you all health most of all, and love and compassion.

#evacuating emotional baggage through a long rant that you dont have to read #this post is for me and me alone really. i feel better after writing it. thou rverything is still catastrophic #there will be grace

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nrdmssgs · 1 year

Text

Alex Keller meeting civilian reader scenario

Masterlist

Ok, so I'm well aware, that Farah exists, and I respect all those, who ship her with Alex. She is the queen, hands down. But I wanted to do a series of “COD men meeting civilian reader”, so sorry guys, this time you, readers, get him. The reader is just a small nervous overthinker here. So that's where all this "veterans" stuff comes from. I usually bear an AFAB reader in mind, but, I think, I've made no specific allusions to the gender of the reader here.

You didn't like this whole idea from the start. From the very moment, when a friend of yours paused from laughing on your joke and turned to her spouse.

"Babe, you know, who has a tad similar sense of humor? Alex does..." - yeah, that "Alex does" didn't sound good to you. This wasn't the first time these two had tried to end your quiet single life by introducing you to someone.

"Alex?" - you tensed up.

"Yeah Alex. He is a friend. A good lad.", they both grinned at you. "Good lad" was a very bad sign. A sign that this "good lad" was only a few minutes apart from getting your number from your friends.

"No. I'm done with this. The last time was... THE LAST EVER!", you really were hoping, you would convince these two to leave your single ass alone in your happy hiatus. The last guy they tried to set you up with turned out to be a disaster!

"I promise, it's not like that this time! He is funny, has a charming personality, absolutely your type, I think you even have the same tastes in music, if I remember correctly" - your friend started rambling.

And just when you were about to interrupt her with a reminder that you are too old to date guys based on the same taste in music, her husband added 4 words that made you stumble.

"He is a veteran."

Now that was a problem...

No, you didn't disrespect or dislike people with such a background. And by no means, you could even think to discriminate them. If anything, they deserved endless respect, gratitude, care and love. But you weren't naive. You understood that the life of such a person could turn into hell if he was not supported by someone incredibly strong. And you did not believe that you would ever become such a strong person. Damn, you had sometimes problems coping even with yourself.

But you also could never say, "I'll never speak to a guy, just because he is a veteran". No way.

So you sighed and thought to yourself, that you'll just meet him once, be nice and friendly, thank him for what he was doing, shake his hand and buy him a beer.

That's why you agreed to this date, albeit with a heavy heart.

So you ended up at the bar waiting for this guy on a chilly autumn evening.

You were still questioning yourself if it was even fair to go on a date that is meant to be the last one (and only one participant knew it for sure), when you heard someone call your name behind your back.

You turned back and froze for a moment.

Why did this guy had to have an absolutely disarming smile and those charming clear blue eyes and barely noticeable precious freckles?

Your brain seemed to short circuit, because all you managed to answer was "Oh..."

"I prefer Alex, but if it's a happy "oh" - I'm ok with that too" - he grinned and gave you a friendly hug.

And at that moment you knew, you were gone.

Well, maybe there was a tiny bit of hope for you... What if the guy was just a jerk? This would make stopping any interaction easier for you. "C'mon, help me out here, man, please!" - you desperately thought as the date began.

He didn't help you. Not at all.

As promised: he was funny, charming, wildly beautiful and... warm. Not "formally friendly", but really, sincerely warm.

In an hour, you didn't even feel like it was a date. You were just chatting with your old buddy.

And yes, he got all your jokes. The way he laughed, closing his eyes sometimes, just made you weak.

You even forgot to worry about all that "Oh no, how do I pay respect and show gratitude to the veteran" stuff. He made you feel comfortable and relaxed.

Well, at least until he caught you staring at his tattoos, when you thought, he looked in the other direction.

"Wanna see the rest?" - he smiled and rolled the sleeve of his shirt up.

You were a blushing, apologetic mess, till he turned it all up into a joke.

"C'mon, it's not every day, that I catch the attention of someone so adorable. Just pretend, you are interested and ill be reminiscing on how I showed you my ink for the rest of my life and boost my self-esteem" - he chuckled.

Oh, his sweet, a bit raspy little laughs.

He looked you right in the eyes, but somehow didn't make eye contact uncomfortable.

You didn't even notice how time passed until it was time to say goodbye.

"Did your friend already give you my number? No? Ok, time to fix this!" - he takes your phone from your hands and writes something down there. Then he laughs softly and makes a funny face at the camera.

When he returns the phone to you, his number is written there and there is even a funny photo on his contact.

"Alex "Oh" Keller".

Well, of course, he wrote his name down that way.

"Our mutual friend said that you somehow take the military too seriously. Here's a reminder for you that we are just goofballs in a uniform sometimes."

When you came back home, you opened a chat with your friend. Of course, she already spammed you with a ton of questions on how did you like Alex.

"What did you tell him about me?!" "I mean... thanks" "Hes perfect", you type, but then delete and type instead "Really, thnx!"

#alex keller #alex keller scenarios #alex keller cod #alex keller x reader #alex keller x you #Keller cod #alex keller headcanons #cod x reader #cod scenario #cod headcanons #cod x you

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shankschewtoy · 10 months

Note

Hey slayer. I've been violently ill lately and thought it be best to turn my misery into your profit, so here's a request for you. May I request the asl trio with an s/o that one night got really really sick?? Like I'm talking throwing up in the toilet, body shaking, feeling like you're going yo die type of thing. Thanks, have a great day and I hope you drink water 👋

a/n - nooo! I’m sorry about that anon :( I hope you feel better soon :) sorry in advance but I somehow make things cracky when they’re supposed to be serious 💀

warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, vomit, comfort

- this guy hasn’t gotten sick once in his entire life, so he doesn’t know what the fuck to do when someone gets sick- (have you seen the way he tried to handle when nami got sick 😭)

- today, you already felt nauseous, sick to your stomach. The thought of eating made you want to throw yourself overboard-

- the rocking waves that shook the boat back and forth only contributed more- you weren’t even sure if this was your sickness, or sea sickness at this point

- maybe both?

- the toilet was your new bestie, the amount of times you threw up in there were countless

- chopper did his best with what meds he had- but nothing really eased the sickness. Your head just kept banging, dizzy from how many times you’ve thrown up

- your captain wasn’t sure what to do- he just kept frantically calling chopper over to see if you were ok.. He knew that maybe his funny antics weren’t going to help you right now

- “Sorry y/n… But I think this is just going to pass tomorrow, hang in there.” -chopper

- You were glad it wasn’t anything serious, but this was horrible

- Don’t you worry, Luffy stayed with you the entire night. He stole a bucket from Sanji for you to throw up in, and tried to tell you funny stories to lighten up your mood

- “Okok- ummmmm. Ok so there was this one time where grandpa kicked me down into a hole at night and-“ (Luffy was abused /with love)

- whenever you tried to sleep, he’d pat your head softly to lull you to sleep, and he tried his VERY hardest not to make any noise

- he ends up making noise but- it’s alright, you still love him (I hope)

- “Y/n! Don’t think about green! Like- don’t think about bushes and stuff! Think about uh… Meat! Wait- no. Uhm….“

- You were getting even more sick at the mention of the color green.. And meat? Luffy no.

- “NO I’M SORRY! DON’T THINK ABOUT MEAT! THINK ABOUT UH- THE SKY? THE GOING MERRY! SUNNY?”

- with him naming random stuff extremely loudly, it was able to distract you from all those gross thoughts, good save Luffy

- you made it through the night (traumatized) but alive. You were glad Luffy was there to stay with you, even though he’s not the best doctor in town lmao

- he loves you, and he’d do anything to make you feel alright :)

- he’s very experienced with almost every sickness, and he’s read about almost every kind of medical book he has in his library

- but nothing prepared him for taking care of the person he loved, because books don’t cover that :)

- you already asked Dragon if you could rest for today, and that alone made sabo so worried. You never had to miss a mission.. This must’ve been really bad

- as soon as the ship docked, sabo sprinted, and I mean SPED towards the headquarters

- my man literally knocked poor koala over on the way 😭

- when he burst through the door like a mad man, he grimaced when he saw how bad you looked

- you were still sitting by the toilet, your face turning green in close intervals

- “Oh hey sabo- how was the m-“ *throws up*

- “Y/N?! ARE YOU OK?!”

- He’s about to faint, but he managed to drag the doctor out from his office, and haul ass back to you for him to check you out

- sabo never knew he could be so tense and anxious, he found out today that he suffered from major anxiety whenever something bad happened to you 😭

- The doctor explained that it was simply a really bad stomach flu, and it would go away by either tomorrow or the next few days

- sabo was glad it wasn’t anything serious! But still, he was worried about you, I mean… You weren’t looking great-

- He tried his best, but whenever you threw up, he felt sick as well- so he comforted you while closing his eyes and covering his ears (he’s trying)

- at one point he had to run off because he threw up too 💀 probably from both feeling horrible because you were going through this. And also, he’s scared of vomit unfortunately

- just because he’s scared doesn’t mean he’s not going to stay with you 24/7! He’s sitting with you, giving you whatever you ask and need

- he tries to talk about anything except vomit and the color green lmao- but he somehow finds a way to get back to it??

- “Yeah on the mission today- we were freeing some of our comrades and one of them- his name’s Steve. He was wearing this AWFUL green shirt and I swear-!” *throws up*

- “I’M SORRY- FORGET EVERYTHING I JUST SAID PLEASE.”

- this poor man is dying, but trying 👍

- like Luffy, this guy has never been sick. EVER

- but he’s an expert at sensing whether or not you’re feeling ok- it’s kinda creepy

- it’s like he knows if a sneeze is coming, and he says bless you early 0-0

- this time, he didn’t catch it since he was off the ship, kicking marine ass on an island

- when he got back, you were- let’s just say.. You’ve been better.

- Whitebeard was worried, and Marco took a look at you right away. No one was as worried as Ace though, this poor guy was on fire, quite literally

- he kept accidentally setting things on fire around him from how worried he was!

- “Ace, don’t panic. Stay calm.” -Whitebeard

- “I AM CALM.”

- no he is not calm at all

- Marco told you that this would just have to pass normally, and he could only give you some anti-nausea meds

- when ace could finally go into your room, he was asking every single question known to man

- “Baby are you ok? You need water? Hugs? Food? A bucket? Meds? Blanket? Marco to turn into a fluffy bird and for you to hold him in your hand?”

- “…what?”

- let’s just say if you need something, he’s on it

- whenever you throw up, he’s like- cheering you on?

- “Great job! Get all that nasty stuff out! You got this!”

- I mean. It helped I guess 💀

- he’ll give you cuddles, hugs, anything to help you fall asleep and get through the night

- you finally fell asleep on him after a couple hours

- but this poor dude needed to pee so bad at around 3am. But the thought of waking you up, only for you to start throwing up again made him so sad..

- he didn’t want you to have to go through it again if you didn’t have to!

- so he sucked it up, and held it until you woke up at 7

- “Oh hey ace.. I feel a lot better now, thanks for staying.”

- “Oh my gosh that’s great! But give me like- 10 seconds I have to pee so fucking bad-!”

- my man SPED to the bathroom, leaving a literal trail of fire 💀💀💀

- he was in there for a while 😭

a/n - ace is so sweet 🥹

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rippersz · 11 months

Text

𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺, 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺

───※ ·❆· ※───

(An OC/Named Reader x Larissa Weems one-shot) (Bittersweet/angsty. Possible part 2 depending on feedback.)

Summary: Odette sends a letter and it ends up in the wrong hands.

───※ ·❆· ※───

‘January 11th, 2023

Odette,

I am terribly sorry to inform you that the letter you sent to a woman named Mirabelle did not end up in her hands. I believe the mail carriers fell short along the way and got it mixed up within my pile of documents; thus my wayward response to you. Considering the nature of your words (I must admit I read them - my actions were caused by split curiosity and confusion), I suggest you re-envelope and reseal your letter before sending it again. I have slipped it in with this one. And if you choose to listen to me, then we shall both hope your sentiments arrive to Mirabelle in a timely fashion with no surprise stops along the way. Until then, someone must tell her that she is a very lucky woman.

And that I am very sorry she broke your heart.

Happy New Year Odette. Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 18th, 2023

Larissa,

Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness. I am far sorrier than you are. Obviously if I knew that was going to happen, I would not have let it. Okay that doesn’t make much sense, but I’m sure you know what I mean. I think. Hopefully? Anyway, thank you very much for sending the letter back. I gave myself some time to think it over and did as you suggested. New envelope, new seal, new everything. Except the perfume on the letter was different. Are you wearing Jean Paul Gaultier? It’s very nice. Mirabelle may appreciate the mix of scents (I’m wearing Marc Jacobs - Daisy), so at least she’ll get something out of it. The words, on the other hand, I’m not so sure. That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily. That’s a big flaw, I think. Oh well. I guess rambling’s a flaw too. And here I am. Forgive me?

Thank you again. Happy New Year. Odette’

‘January 23rd, 2023

Dear Odette,

Please don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault, as you know. And if I knew the letter did not concern me at all, I would not have read it. But, I’m sort of glad that I did. It was perhaps one of the best letters I’ve ever read in my entire life. Are you a writer, by any chance? If not, you should consider becoming one. The rambling could add a nice personal touch - it’s not as big a flaw as you think it is. It certainly introduced me to your keen sense of smell. Speaking of which, Daisy is wonderful. I may have a roll-on tube of that somewhere. Otherwise, you’re correct. La Belle was released in 2019, it has become my new personal favorite. Are you a perfume collector? Or perhaps a bloodhound? I jest, I jest. Though I do appreciate the follow-up. If Mirabelle doesn’t appreciate your love, I may have to send her a letter myself. That being said, please let me know what she says? If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.

Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 29th, 2023

To Larissa,

You are far too kind. I write in my free time, yes, but I’m not sure I’m good enough to become a writer. However, your support still means a lot - even from all the way in California. Quite a long way, right? Crazy how paths cross. Anyway, I’m not a perfume collector, no. But my friend, Cassie, wears the same kind. I know for certain that she’d say you have good taste. And I’d agree. That bloodhound comment was funny. I know you can’t hear my giggling, but trust me when I say I am. I wish I could be as witty, but I don’t know what to say. My humor is typically made up of making fun of people. Do you have a guilty pleasure I can harp on? An embarrassing secret? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. And as soon as I get something back, I’ll let you know. Don’t start writing just yet.

Best, Odette’

‘February 5th, 2023,

Odette,

Telling you my secrets already? My, I believe we’ve skipped a few steps. What happened to a favorite color? A favorite memory? An age or profession, perhaps? If you couldn’t tell by now, I am still jesting. One of my guiltiest pleasures, though you may find it juvenile and silly, is the fact that I am a huge chocolate fiend. Many of my coworkers are aware that the best drink to buy me is a hot chocolate - hold the whipped cream. I am watching my figure after all. And because I pity your lack of matched wit, I’ll tell you that my biggest secret is the fact that I quite enjoy Taylor Swift’s music. Don’t ask me about my favorite song, I don’t think I could choose just one. Oh is that- is that the sound of your giggling? Maybe I can hear it from here, Ms. California. Now it’s your turn to hear mine. In the meantime, enlighten me on what you write about. I’m thinking poetry and free-form, with a focus on romance. I do a bit of writing myself from time to time, but it’s always in a diary. Never further. Perhaps you can do both of us justice and contemplate publishing? I’ll be the first to run to the shelves.

I hope you are well, Larissa W.’

‘February 13th, 2023

Dear chocolate fiend,

White. My first trip to New York City after Mirabelle. I arrived in the afternoon, went to see a movie, grabbed dinner and headache pills on the way back to my hotel room, and couldn’t sleep for the entire night. So I went out at 3 AM to see Times Square. It was only a block away and let me tell you, Larissa, it was beautiful. It was unlike anything. I felt safe for the first time in a while - beneath all of those lights. I was invincible. Not even loneliness could touch me. 27 and counting. Secretary. And potential writer. Someone I met recently has been trying to push me further into my hobby- to really adopt the lifestyle. You wouldn’t know them, though. Them? They/them? Please correct me if I’m wrong, Larissa. These letters wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable if I was calling you something you weren’t. As for me, I go by she/her. Mirabelle did as well. Does? Did? I’m not sure - I haven’t heard anything back yet. But that may be for the best. Horrid segue here (shame on little writer Odette), but Taylor Swift? Wow, I must be giggling quite loudly. HA HA HA HA HA!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!! I swear that one day I’ll get a laugh out of you as well. In the meantime, as you say, I’ll happily inform you that you’re a psychic of some sort. Yes, I write poetry and free-form romance. Novels have never been my thing though. But if I did write any, I’d have to say psychological horror is a favorite. I may give it a crack if you’d edit for me? Unless you’re terribly busy, Ms. Vermont. Then please don’t worry your pretty little head.

I hope you’re ‘weller’ than I am, Odette

(P.S. Happy Valentines Day)’

‘February 19th, 2023

Dear sweet poet,

Do forgive the late response. Work has been keeping me busy; but if you’re serious about editing, I’m sure I can set some time apart for you. That memory of yours does sound quite glorious - nearly heavenly. Such freedom is a dream for many people, myself somewhat included, so I admit I’m the tiniest bit jealous. However, I could always visit the city in the summer. Times Square is already calling my name… maybe I’ll even see a certain 27 year old stranger there. Maybe we could even grab hot chocolate. But I suppose you’d rather enjoy your independence. That being said, you are quite correct - they/them is one of my preferred pronouns. Much like yourself and the mysterious Mirabelle, she/her is another. And I’m glad we both agree that these letters are quite a treat. I have not had a pen-pal in quite a long time. My old roommate and I used to talk after we graduated, but times change. Much like they did for you and Mirabelle. I believe I may have loved my roommate in that way, too… but it’s as I said. Then again, she was always more of a psychic than me. I just got lucky. As for the answers to my questions, I’m quite sure none of those were secrets. Unless, of course, your favorite color is known only by myself. In which case, I’d consider myself lucky again. But either way, come to the table please Odette. Tell me yours - but only if you wish to.

Weller is not a word, Best, Larissa W.’

‘February 23rd, 2023

Dear Larissa,

Weller is a word if I want it to be. That is my secret. No, but in all seriousness, you’re correct. Fair is fair. So I’ll grant you this: I’m a redhead. Ugh I know! I know! It’s terrible. Horrible. I’m sorry. If you find that you can’t stand me anymore, I understand. A writer, secretary, AND a redhead? What’s next? An FBI agent? I can’t disclose that information. Speaking of which, you have yet to answer your own questions. All is fair in love and pen-paling, am I right or am I right Larissa? It’s okay. You can admit it. I’m right. Just like I’m right in saying that your roommate made a big mistake if she’s not with you now. Speaking from experience, love like that is not something one finds often. I’d say I’m glad you experienced it, for it has its good moments, but I know that the ache can be bad. Quite bad. Not to worry, though! If you figure you want to send her a letter, you may get a pen-pal out of it. Kind of neat, huh?

I’m sorry she broke your heart, too. What a foolish woman. Tsk tsk.

Best, Odette’

‘February 28th, 2023

To the resident redhead,

How could you betray me like this? A redhead? On the other side of these pages? I feel scorned. Scorned and touched. Very much like a writer to offer comfort for an offhand comment. I appreciate the sentiment more than you know. And just for your information, Ms. I’m-Always-Right: Silver. Getting my teachers certification and celebrating with a few friends before life pulled us in different directions. It was a wonderful night. I haven’t laughed so much since - and that was quite a while ago. 32 next year. Principal. I do hope that was enough to sate your burning curiosity; I’m sure you can be at ease now. And since I do so enjoy meeting you halfway, I’ll tell you that I’m very fair-haired. Very. Perhaps one day you’ll see. Until then, don’t let the curiosity kill you little cat.

Best, Larissa W.’

‘March 5th, 2023’

‘March 12th, 2023’

‘March 16th, 2023’

‘April 14th, 2023’

‘May 21st, 2023’

‘June 9th, 2023’

...

And the months went on.

And on.

And every few days, another letter came. Another letter went. Another letter was written. Another letter was sealed. Another letter was received. Another letter was cherished. Kept. Forever a lovely memory. Larissa and Odette went and went and went- on and on and on- exchanging and smiling as each paragraph grew in length. From this to that and whatever else they could find to think about; they formed a banter and connection like no other. Poking fun, making jokes, referencing previous letters, gossiping until their hearts were content. Purring within their chests, eagerly awaiting another letter. It kept their days moving. It kept their souls dancing. From miles away, they cheered each time they saw the thin familiar scrawl of Larissa’s writing and the loopy tilted words of Odette’s penmanship. At one point, they even tried copying each other’s style. It was hilarious. It had both of them laughing at the same time - and later doing it purely to mock. Such things, little but large, were frequent and lovely. One time, Odette mailed a perfume scent strip of her new favorite; and Larissa, never one to be outdone, sent a roll-on tube of La Belle. Odette got so ticked off she made her promise that they stick to letters and paper only. Larissa, usually a stubborn soul, agreed. That was their dynamic. Their push and pull. Their agree to disagree. Never did they fight; rarely did they not see eye to eye; and constantly did they playfully argue. It was small things- small insignificant little things- but they moved the conversation along. And it made them smile. It made them laugh. And during the hardest parts, the parts in which life pinched at their skin and dragged at their souls, it made them cry. It made them weep. It made them open up. It led to Odette confessing that Mirabelle had left her and it led to Larissa confessing that Morticia had left her as well. Two women, two ships in the night, both of which got away. And not gently, not two slow drifts into the night, but a harsh yank. Morticia left school with a man on her arm and Mirabelle returned to California one day from a business trip in France with a ring on her finger. The two of them agreed that it was funny how life likes to slap lovers in the face. That it was funny how life likes to get in the way. And enjoys ending good things and ruining them. Taking them away too quickly. With no warning at all. Without a single goodbye.

The last letter Odette sent was on October 28th, 2024.

Larissa hadn’t responded to her previous one. Or the one before that. And eventually, after much contemplation, she gave up. It wasn’t healthy- worrying so much. Odette figured that perhaps, finally, her worst fear came true and that Larissa realized their little arrangement was more odd than she thought. That she knew virtually nothing about Odette, not even her last name. And that she didn’t find her amusing anymore and didn’t want to associate with her anymore and didn’t want to even say hello. Or goodbye. Or anything in between.

It broke her heart a little bit.

Okay it broke her heart a lot a bit.

The radio silence left Odette living on autopilot for weeks. Months. Nearly half a year. She’d get up, check her mailbox, and go to work - only to come home, check her mailbox, and go to bed - just to do the same thing over and over and over again. Day and night. Night and day. It was worse than Mirabelle. It was worse than anything. No amount of teenage angst or familial grief could get over the deep void left within her soul once those letters stopped coming. Once the friend she found by accident, the kindred spirit she stumbled upon, the woman she lov-…. well. Once that one person decided never to write again.

Though like most difficult things that left her raw, Odette’s heart began scabbing over. She cleared her desk, packed away the special pens she used, put the paper neatly into a box, and tucked the leftover Larissa letters away right along with those sweet memories. Then she put them into the back of a closet she rarely rifled through… and tried to forget it was all there. The La Belle, which she rarely touched, was hidden in her pajama drawer at the very back- wrapped up in old T-shirts she no longer wore. And every other thing that existed around her, that reminded her of Larissa, was pushed out of sight. Out of sight and out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight… out of mind.

The company was celebrating her 5 year anniversary. They wanted to fly her out to Vermont. Jericho, Vermont. To have a little vacation there. To enjoy life. To fucking torture her.

She almost didn’t go. She almost canceled entirely. She almost quit her goddamn job because that was the same job she had when she first met Lar-…..

But she went anyway. Vermont was large enough. She’d be fine.

And she was, much to her surprise. She was entirely fine. It was a beautiful change of season; the air was crisp, the trees were changing color- morphing back into sunny greens. The world enjoyed its rain as April introduced May to Jericho and as the year of 2025 blossomed into being. Odette spent her days reading, taking walks, basking in the beauty of the log cabin the company rented for her. It was truly lovely. Truly a dream come true. And she didn’t even think- didn’t even wonder- about the other ship that got away from her. That barely even brushed past her, or lingered, before parting the water and skating away into the night all those months ago.

It was blissful. It reminded her of New York. Of that freedom- that independence- that song within her soul, dredged up from the depths.

But there was one thing.

One tiny little thing.

One little reminder that never left her. That she didn’t let go of.

“Hot chocolate, no whip, for Odette?”

A small smile grew on her lips as she slid out of the booth and made her way up to the counter. The young man met her eyes, returned the smile, and gestured to the warm cup on the counter with a nod of his head.

“Thank you lots.” And with that, she retreated to her booth.

Hot chocolate.

She wasn’t going to give up hot chocolate, let alone any chocolate at all, just because a distant soul enjoyed it. The whipped cream was something she wanted, but… old habits did always die hard, didn’t they? Oh most definitely. And as Odette reclined against the comfortable seat, eyes tracking the screen of her work laptop, hot chocolate firmly placed on the coaster to her right, she lived up to that sentiment with no room to spare. Leaving work at home was hard. She dove into it some time ago; dedicating more time, thinking, and hours into the well-oiled machine of her job just to distract her from everything outside of it. When she was there, responding, taking calls, managing dates and meetings and this, that, and the other, the world fell silent. Into a distant buzzy din. Into a land of muffled sounds and unimportant chatter - like her head was dunked under water as soon as she opened her emails. To a certain extent, it was calming. Repetitive and not at all that difficult after she figured out a proper routine; the worst part was dealing with those who couldn’t write properly. And in the professional world, that was rare. Well- if a person wanted to keep their job of course. And she definitely wanted to keep hers. It was fulfilling. Enriching. She made some friends, she shook some hands, she reassured her bosses. They knew she was reliable. Friendly. Odette never faltered. And they counted on that. Counted on her. Gave her the time of day. Responded when they could. Cherished her like a human. Like a friend. Unlike-

“Larissa? Hot chocolate, no whip?”

Odette blinked.

The muffled bubble popped. The world flooded back. She looked up from her screen.

Was she going mad? Crazy? Bonkers, finally? After all that time? Had she misheard? Maybe the young man said Patricia. Or Melissa. Or-

“Larissa! Hey, long time no see!”

Larissa.

Odette turned around in her seat so fast, she nearly broke her neck. She shuffled to the end of the booth, peered around the side, eyes wide and hands gripping the edge of the table… only to feel her excitement die as soon as it existed.

Of course. Foolish her. She didn’t know what Larissa looked like. She never got a proper description. Never got a photograph. Or a phone number. Or anything at all. Just a P.O. Box and a state. Just… nothing.

“Hello Jerry, it has been a while, hasn’t it? How are you?”

No, she- well she did get something. She got little things. Details. Odette’s brow furrowed as her eyes, hazel and starry and glazed over with apprehension and fear and admiration and horror, ran up and down the woman’s body. She was tall. Larissa never mentioned tall. She was curvy. Larissa never mentioned curvy.

‘I am watching my figure after all.’

…She was stylish. Larissa never mentioned style and fashion.

“Oh I’m good, I’m good. What about you? How’s the semester going?”

“I’m well, thank you. It’s… well it’s definitely going, Jerry.” They shared a laugh.

She was English. Larissa never mentioned being English. She wore gloves. Larissa never mentioned gloves. She-

Wait. Semester?

‘Getting my teachers certification…’ ‘Principal.’

Odette felt her heart drop.

But-

“I’m sure it is! I- oh shoot. More customers. Sorry, Larissa. Can we catch up later?”

“Of course Jerry. You know where to find me. Until next time.”

Hazel eyes watched the stranger wave. Then turn around.

Oh.

Dear lord…

She didn’t recognize her- not really- but the fair hair, which only registered then… and the silver jewelry. And the… the…

Odette watched as the woman walked past. She watched and she felt her heart in her ears- pounding, clawing, dancing- as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. So deeply. So deeply it made her lungs ache. So deeply it made her soul tear in two.

La Belle.

Odette had never packed up her things so quickly. She never slammed her laptop closed so fast, never slid it into her bag so messily, never threw the bag over her shoulder or shoved her wallet into her pocket or grabbed the hot chocolate with such vigor ever before. Not once in her life. And rarely did she act so impulsively- not after Larissa. But seeing her then, somehow knowing deep within her soul that it was her… it broke- snapped- the thin resolve of Odette’s sanity and sent her flying out of the Weathervane like a bat out of Hell. She was burning up inside. Electric. Her eyes held fire and ice and so much warmth, so much desperation, that she nearly toppled over herself in her hurry.

The woman- Larissa- was a fast walker. Her long legs took her far as she distractedly typed on her phone with one hand and held the cup of hot chocolate in the other. Odette, being short and clumsy, was red and out of breath by the time she got close enough to call out her name. And call, she did. Call, cry, silently plead, she did.

“LARISSA!”

It was loud. Like a roar. Like a harrowing yell. Like something that held months and months and months of pain and sorrow and grief behind it. It instantly made her throat hurt, running it raw in only a second, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care at all. Not when her voice got Larissa to stop in her tracks and turn around, eyes searching and confused.

Of course, as to be expected, she had no clue who she was. Not even an inkling. Larissa got no description either - not even a photo. All she knew was that Odette had red hair. And that a woman with red hair was storming toward her, all fucks thrown to the wind, sneakers smacking the pavement hard as she stomped down the sidewalk. Larissa looked utterly puzzled, slightly mortified, entirely put off by the sight of such a determined stranger. Like she wasn’t sure if she had done something wrong and if she had, she wasn’t sure how to fix it. But Odette would tell her. Odette would make it known.

“What the fuck?” was the first thing out of her mouth.

A rather harsh introduction, but necessary nonetheless. She didn’t even really mean to say it, but the surprised widening of Larissa’s eyes had a twisted spark of satisfaction spiraling up within her soul.

And her outburst, naturally, meant many things. Not just ‘What the fuck?’ but ‘What the fuck? Why did you disappear? What did I do? Did I hurt you? Did I say something? Did something happen to you? Do you feel sorry? Do you miss me? Do you wish you responded? Do you hope to never hear from me again? Did you always know this would happen? Did you ever even bother to think that you should tell me you’re that beautiful? What the fuck, why are your eyes so blue? And why are they piercing? Staring at me? Heavenly and deep and never-ending? Like.. oceans… and why are your lips so soft looking and plump and red? Where did that scar come from? Do you hate it? Do you know that I like it even though I’m only seeing it now for the first time ever? Did you always wear your hair like that? How long does it take you to get it like that? How does it feel to take it out after a long day? Did you know your makeup is flawless? And that your jawline is magnificent? And that you’re so tall… and you look so strong… inside and out… and why the fuck did you not mention you were British? English? What does it matter? Just what the fuck? Why the fuck? How the fuck? What the fuckity fuck?!’

But overall, it only meant ‘What the fuck? Why didn’t you say goodbye?’

“I beg your pardon?”

Unfortunately, Larissa could never read minds. Or hearts. So the vague pangs of longing, like old rusted blood, only ached harder as the taller woman blinked and frowned.

A blush painted Odette’s cheeks. Right. Somehow, along the way of admiring, she’d forgotten. Larissa had no idea who she was.

“Um.” Clearing her throat, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. Suddenly, things were very awkward. Terribly awkward. So horribly bloody awkward. It was a wonder if Larissa could feel the odd lull in conversation, the sudden dousing of Odette’s flames, but it didn’t really matter. If she wanted to, Odette was sure that if she chose to walk away, if she chose to take one last look before turning around and never coming back, then Larissa would never know. Then she’d just be another story. Another odd memory to tell her children one day, if she ever wished to have them. In her letters, the taller woman admitted that she didn’t think she ever would. But Odette always had a feeling that she’d be an amazing mother. Looking at her then, taking in the perfect posture and the crisp seams of her clothing, the feeling became fact. Larissa would be the best mom.

Funny that… there was a time, long ago, where Odette fantasized about making sandwiches for picnics and uprooting her entire life. Just to see the proud smile on her pen-pal’s face as her child grew and grew and grew and flourished. And maybe even ended up calling her ‘mom’ one day too.

But as Larissa wrote once upon a time, things changed. Time went on. And that was how it was.

So she could turn around. She could very well wrench herself from her spot and drag herself back the way she came. She could apologize, tell her she was mistaken, and that she was sorry - and then she could walk off into the sunset and pretend nothing ever happened. She could burn the letters. She could burn the very memory of her. She could forget the name ‘Larissa’ entirely and all would be left to rest. And that would be that. Que sera, sera.

But Odette was never the type to give up easily. Mirabelle, wherever she was, could attest.

So instead of abandoning ship, she powered through.

“It’s Odette,” came her firm tone. She straightened her back and tilted her head to look up properly, trying to stand tall in the face of heartache.

But heartache didn’t recognize her.

“Have we… met before?” Larissa blinked, turning to present her full attention.

Odette flushed red. Angry. Sad. Liberated.

“Have- have we met before?” She repeated, scoffed, outraged by her old friend’s obliviousness. “Just how many Odettes do you know?!” Her hands ran to her hips, firmly rooting themselves there as she began tapping her foot and glowering.

Such a display had Larissa scanning her from head to toe, desperately scrambling for understanding and recognition. The loose T-shirt, the black leggings, the sneakers, the hazel eyes, the pretty features, the freckles, the plump cheeks and curved body, the bag on her shoulder, the hair on her head. Red. Fiery. Standing out against the blue of the sky like a stain on white fabric. Messy curls and natural red red red.

Red… red…

Odette watched as Larissa froze. Her lips fell open, her eyes widened, she could practically see the way her heart stopped in her chest.

She remembered.

“…Odette?”

The shorter woman nodded, slowly feeling the anger and excitement drain from her body. It was fun being anonymous for just a moment. It was fun being the only one that remembered - having the chance to feel properly scorned and betrayed. But that didn’t last very long. The come down was harsh. Quick. A fall from immense grace. Especially when she saw the tears. They welled up in Larissa’s eyes, glossy and wet, making those sapphires shine. So swift they were. So rapid. As if sparked by Odette’s very existence.

Though maybe Larissa wasn’t the one that was tearing up. Maybe it was just her. Maybe the haze of the world, growing slightly blurry, was caused by the water that threatened to fall over her own lashes.

“Yeah.” It was all she could think to say.

For even with all of her passion, even with her love of words and her many discarded story drafts (all coincidentally started in the year 2023), even with whatever eloquence she was naturally born with, Odette couldn’t come up with a single meaningful thing to say. There was much, of course. But none of it fit. None of it made sense. Everything that lingered on her tongue, finally unlodging itself from the stickiness of her throat, was too heavy. Too heavy for the moment. Too heavy for the sidewalk. Too heavy for the side of the street. Too heavy for Jericho. Out in the open. Vermont. Miles away from home. Too close too close too close. Too much all at once. Maybe running after her was a bad idea. Maybe taking the vacation was even worse. Maybe sending that letter to Mirabelle in the first place was the poignant moment in which she should have changed her mind and threw it away when she considered it.

But she hadn’t.

And so there she was, staring up at Larissa, suddenly helpless. That ship that passed her in the night all those months ago had come back around; except that time she had stumbled upon it herself. And she wasn’t entirely sure if she was grateful- or terrified. Maybe the ship hated her. Maybe the ship would crash into her and ruin her and maybe the ship would begin shooting cannons. Maybe the ship would continue right past her. Maybe the ship would-

-hug her?

Odette blinked, very much unsure of what was happening as soon as she felt the comforting weight of long arms pushing themselves under her biceps and interlocking behind her back. La Belle and the soft clean smell of faded shampoo filled her senses. Her nose. Her lungs. Her eyes. Her heart. And soul. Part of her was so confused it wanted to grasp Larissa’s shoulders and shove her off. And the other part of her, the part of her that had dreams about receiving another letter from the one that broke her heart, wanted to give in.

‘That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily.’

Odette’s arms pressed against Larissa’s waist. Their holds were odd, skewed by the cups of hot chocolate they held and the other items in their grasps. But nonetheless, it was… it was unlike anything. Each breath died on Odette’s tongue. She felt the atoms in her brain disappear. Like they never existed at all.

“I’m sorry.” It was said so softly, she was near certain it wasn’t uttered at all. But then Larissa was pulling back, hands shaking as she brought them to her lips. “I’m sorry.”

There was grief in her eyes. A sadness that not even the most haunted of poets could explore, nor understand, nor emulate. It gleamed. It cut Odette in half. It had her taking steps back, suddenly unsure. Suddenly disoriented.

“What-… what happened?” She was breathless, bewildered at the sight of regret swimming in Larissa’s eyes.

The taller woman opened her mouth… then hesitated. Her gaze burned through her old friend- then twitched away and ran over the world around them. The sidewalk, the street, the shops, the Weathervane, the town itself. They were out in the open. And their… reunion… was too good for that. Too painful for that. Odette watched as Larissa’s lower lip quivered; as the thoughts ran through her mind at the speed of light. And before she even spoke, she knew what she was going to say.

“Please, come with me,” her voice was soft. Silken. Heavy with guilt. Pouring with unspoken words.

It was Odette’s turn to hesitate. Years… nearly. However much time. She didn’t really know. She stopped keeping track once she realized she was losing sleep over it. Hours upon hours of sleep. It affected her work - it affected her body. It slit the throat of her life and dragged it through dirt. ‘It’ being the silence. ‘It’ being the goodbye that never came. ‘It’ being Larissa, Larissa, Larissa.

The same Larissa who held an apology wound up in her lungs. The same Larissa who looked down at her as if she couldn’t quite believe she was real, standing before her, breathing and living. The same Larissa whose shaking hands held a cellphone and a cup of hot chocolate that was swiftly running cold. The same Larissa with the same shining eyes that glistened with tears and crackling memories and affection, warmth, that seemed so out of place. Years without the comfort of that dove-like soul… years without the… the love? Love? Is that what they had? Perhaps it was too little too late to wonder. Perhaps Odette was just dipping into wishful thinking. Giving into the dreams she repeated over the years. With every word, every breath, every letter - she found herself begging. Pleading. ‘Please. Please please please invite me to Vermont. See me. Know me. These pages are killing me.’ All of it secretly scrawled between her slanting lines. Running in circles behind her hazel eyes. Displayed for Larissa, even though Larissa did not exist before her at the time.

Not like she did in that moment. In Jericho. In tears.

“Let me explain, Odette. I meant- I… just- give me a chance.” Larissa blinked her tears away and straightened her shoulders, tone growing desperate, body growing tense.

Never before did she sound like that in their letters. But never before did she leave Odette for so long. Interesting circumstances… Funny how life ended things so quickly. Funny how life brought out the truth in a person when they felt themselves tugged at a loss. Pushed to their knees. Though she said she had an explanation… and her old friend had never been a liar.

“Okay,” Odette breathed, clearing her throat. “Okay.”

“Really?”

‘Yes of course, really,’ Odette thought, looking at her with a mix of surprise and anger and devotion. ‘What are you, mad? I’d never just walk away. I’d never just give up. I can’t help myself. I never could. You know this. You know me.’

───※ ·❆· ※───

I quite enjoyed writing this. Might take a break from writing 'Heat' and 'To People Watch One Person' for a bit- same with requests. For the foreseeable future, whatever comes to mind will be written. I've started watching GOT again... and a certain Ser of Tarth has strummed the strings of my heart {as always} so maybe expect something with her? Dunno. Either way, thank you for staying with me. You mean the moon and stars, believe me. - Ripley x

───※ ·❆· ※───

#fanfiction #larissa weems #wlw fanfic #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #rippersz #gwendoline christie #angsty fic #bittersweet fic

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marlynnofmany · 1 year

Text

We’re All Weird Here

“Bones are body horror,” the tentacle alien told me. “Not that I would volunteer such information, mind you, but you did ask.”

“I did,” I agreed, lifting another crate. “That’s really funny, honestly. What about them is disturbing?”

Mur twisted his blue-black tentacles in a way that looked anxious. “Just the idea of something rigid, inside your flesh,” he said with a wiggly shudder. “No matter how you move, it won’t move with you. Like your own body is fighting back.” He wrapped his tentacles around a crate. “I’ve had nightmares about stiffness like that.”

“Wow,” I said as I set my crate on top of the others. “I’m sorry to hear that? All I can tell you is that bones aren’t an enemy to us; they’re something dependable and strong that hold us up and make everything possible.”

Mur shoved his crate into place. “I suppose you’d need a positive relationship with your own disturbing parts,” he said with a twitch of his hind tentacles that was probably the equivalent of shaking his head. Since a Strongarm’s pointy squid-head was the majority of their body, they didn’t seem to go in for human-style nods.

“Well sure, same as you,” I said, checking the hovercart for more crates. “You know most humans find tentacles creepy, right?”

“I have heard,” he said with a smug little smile.

No nods, but yes smiles. With a mouth in the right place, even. I was privately glad that he had a mouth on the front of his head, instead of hidden among his tentacles like an Earth cephalopod. I was debating whether to tell him that when a crewmate of an entirely different body type walked in on clicking feet.

I pointed at him. “What about exoskeletons?” I asked Mur.

Zhee stopped beside the cart. “What about exoskeletons?” he demanded. He struck a pose out of an intergalactic fashion show, letting the ship’s lights play on his vivid purple carapace while he snapped his pincher arms. “Are you squishies jealous?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Mur told him before turning to me. “Exoskeletons are different from bones. They’re like an exo-suit: a protective case for the natural softness.”

Zhee held the pose. “A glorious one.”

“Yes, Zhee. You’re very pretty.” Mur sounded more than a little patronizing, but Zhee didn’t seem to mind.

“That is the proper amount of respect,” the bug alien said. He relaxed to grasp the cart handles with his pinchers, and towed it out of the room. “I will return with more freeze-dried foodstuffs. Make sure you tie those crates down.”

“Yeah, we’ve got it,” Mur told him. “Make sure you get the right ones; two of the three shipments look similar.”

“This is obvious to one with such excellent color vision as myself.”

Mur made the little popping noises that pass for laughter, and turned toward the adjustable netting. He threw one end to me.

We spent the next few minutes fastening things down to industry standards, which still seemed a little excessive. I’d never seen the ship’s antigravity fail yet, but I supposed meteor impacts were possible. Some of those buggers were much faster than I’d ever expected before I got into space.

“We’re going to need a replacement for this one,” Mur said, fingering a hole in one net. (Does it count as “fingering” if he used a tentacle-tip? “Tentacling” just doesn’t sound right.) He set it aside near the door.

“Do we have enough for now?” I asked.

“Yeah, probably,” he said. “We just can’t forget on the next restocking trip. Hey Paint!” he called after someone who’d just passed the doorway.

“Paint,” she said, replying with her own name where I would have said “Yes?” or “What?” Her full name was Painted Sunset, but since that sounded way too much like the captain’s name, Piercing Sunlight, she just stuck to Paint. She poked her snout of mottled orange scales around the doorframe, all polite curiosity.

“Can you put another net on the shopping list?” Mur asked.

“Big or small?”

“Big please.”

“Got it. One question for you.”

“What’s that?” Mur asked.

Paint spun to stick her tail out into the doorway. She had something taped to it — a stapler? Whatever it was, it clacked like a tiny crocodile when she moved. “Have you seen any tasty fish around here?” she said in a growly voice. “Rawr!”

With a long-suffering sigh, Mur told her, “No, but there are probably some in the kitchen.”

“Thanks!” Paint spun again and stuck her head out. “Was it scary? I think it needs eyes to be really scary.”

Mur sighed.

“That was good!” I said. “Eyes would be better. Hey, do you have access to googly eyes out here? The little sticky ones?”

“No, what are those?” Paint asked, walking into the room. “They sound fun.”

“They are!” I told her. “I used to like putting two on my hand and making a little face, like this.” I demonstrated, wrapping a forefinger around my thumb and moving both together like a talking mouth. “‘Hello! I don’t have teef.’”

Paint thought this was the best thing ever, and despite Mur’s eye-rolling maturity, he couldn’t take his eyes off the display.

“That is unsettlingly convincing,” he admitted. “Even without eyes. If I saw that sneak around a corner and start talking to me, I’d believe we had a stowaway of a species I’d never seen before.” He pointed three tentacles at my face. “Do NOT do that as a prank, or I’ll throw your shoes out the airlock. I know you treasure those.”

“It’s not that I treasure them,” I said. “The floor is just cold without them, and I could step on something sharp.”

“Yeah, so? That’s life,” the squidlike alien said. “You don’t see me wearing an exo-suit about the ship just because the floor is cold.”

“Hey, do that hand thing one more time,” Paint said. “I think I’ve almost got it.” Her scaly orange fingers were too short to manage the same effect, but she was trying.

“More crates,” announced Zhee from the hallway. “Make some emptiness.”

The three of us moved aside for him to direct the hovercart into place. Paint gushed about the hand thing.

“It looks so convincing! I can’t do it right. Show him!”

I did, feeling a bit silly in front of his unblinking, massive eyes. His antennae held still, making his expression hard to read. “‘Hello,’” I said. “‘I’m a mouth.’”

“That’s not a mouth,” he declared.

Before I could say yeah, that’s the point, he stepped back from the cart. With a flourish, he tucked his head low against his shoulders and bent his pincher arms into a terrifying facsimile of a gaping jaw, lined with teeth.

Paint squeaked. Mur slapped a tentacle against the floor.

“Wow,” I said. “Yeah, googly eyes have nothing on that.”

Mur pointed at him. “I see you also have a potential prank that you should not pull.”

At the same time, Paint exclaimed, “You have to show Sunlight!”

Mur gave her a look. “Do not terrify the captain.”

“No no, she’ll love it.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s busy.”

Paint rubbed her chin as Zhee resumed a normal posture. “It wouldn’t take long, but yeah, she’s busy. Dinnertime? Oh, and you have to show off your thing too!” she said, pointing at me.

Mur started to naysay, but I said, “Oh, like a talent show?”

“I have all of the talent,” Zhee announced.

Paint was delighted. Mur waved his tentacles about and went back to work, while Zhee launched into a story of the time he scared off a predator with the “false jaws” trick.

“Come on, let’s tell everybody else about the talent show!” Paint said. “This’ll be great!” She waved for Zhee to follow her, and he went, still talking.

Mur grumbled. “Dinner is going to be interesting. I hope it doesn’t put anyone off their food.”

“I’ll try not to do anything bone-related,” I said.

“I appreciate the restraint.”

After a moment of handling crates, I asked, “Did you know our blood is made inside our bones?”

“Oh, that is so much worse! I may just get sick ahead of time.”

~~~

More fun and games with backstory for the book. Not as much action this time, but some very important conversation.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #my writing #the Token Human #haso #hfy #eiad #aliens #bones #body horror #or at least the discussion of #everything is creepy if you think about it long enough

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