#I am really on a marlos kick

[sparrowmoth]

Written in the Scars • [AO3]

Teen | 3.2K+ | Marlos-centric/OT4 | Heavy Angst, Devotion, Whump

A/N: More detailed notes on AO3, if you're interested, but here, I will just say thank you to my lovely friend Blake (@finitevoid) for talking through this fic with me and inspiring me to push the plot further, plus impressing upon me the image of an insanely tall Maleficent, which has now become secret canon in my mind dajkgsjdkg <3

CW: Heavy angst, verbal and physical child abuse, emotional manipulation, non-graphic usage of medieval torture implements, threat of self-harm, a lot of swearing, and a hurt/no comfort kinda cliffhanger in this first chapter (sorry).

Chapter One: Birdcage Religion

The knife isn’t dropped with a clatter to the stone floor. It is thrown at the feet of the Mistress of All Evil—Mal’s mother, her queen and, at a whim, her executioner. She’ll be that today, from the look on her face—the way her eyes flick to the knife and she tells Mal to repeat that.

“You heard me,” says Mal, stepping out in front of Carlos.

He doesn’t try to pull her back, though from the corner of her eye, she can see his hands twitch, like he’s thinking about it. His face has gone blank, but she reads fear in his quiet, the way he stands like a ghost, trying not to be seen. He thinks he’s caused enough trouble.

That makes Mal want to cause more.

She doesn’t shrink when her mother stands slowly from her throne, rising to her full height of seven feet and then some. Her horns add another foot and she’s standing on the dais. The candlelight behind her casts a shadow that much longer—a monstrous form, in all—

“So disappointing,” says Maleficent, voice dripping sickly sweetness. She takes her staff from where it’s leaning and takes a slow stride off the dais, almost gliding toward her daughter. “It seems your heart’s grown like a tumour in that precious little chest of yours.” Her words warp to a snarl as she lifts her staff up, spearing it forward, striking Mal hard in the sternum, sending her stumbling back into Carlos.

Mal grabs the end of the staff to keep from losing her balance, eyes flashing green as she glares at her mother, whose own burning gaze comes down the length of the staff. Only hatred there. No, intent—

“PROVE YOURSELF, GIRL,” roars Maleficent, wielding the staff in an arc as she kicks at Mal’s shin, sending her down and out of the way, leaving a path to Carlos. “THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE.”

Carlos, in a slight daze from having hit the stone floor—hard—recovers quickly at the sight of Maleficent encroaching, her staff poised to strike, coming down like a falcon, everything a blur—

Mal throws herself in front of him just in time to take the blow.

In some far part of his mind, still dazed, Carlos hears her ribs crack like a shot. He feels the part of a rabbit having watched the hound dog take a bullet for its prey, right from its master’s rifle—

Then, Mal is slumping across him, wheezing for breath, and he’s trying not to panic as he tries to sit up, tries to drag Mal away, tries to think through the thought stream of stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid—because he’s scared and he’s angry and he doesn’t understand. Why didn’t she just do it? Why didn’t she just hurt him? Why didn’t she…

“Ah, so it is a cancer,” says Maleficent, practically in a purr. She’s put the end of her staff under Carlos’ chin now, forcing his gaze up. She smirks when his open, vulnerable face turns quickly to something vicious. “You don’t fool me, boy. I can see your weakness…”

Mal’s arm shoots up and she grips the staff hard, pushing it away.

“Leave him alone,” she grits out, struggling up while half in Carlos’ lap still. “This is…” She coughs, blood speckling her lips. “Between you and me…” she manages, craning her neck to meet Maleficent’s eyes, high as a god’s above hers, staring ever down, down, down.

Maleficent smiles, something sinister, and she yanks her staff back easily out of Mal’s fist. “Do you know what I think?” she asks, the point of her staff hovering just above the stones. “I think… what’s between us are three little problems… and he happens to be one.”

With that, her staff comes down in an almighty bang, cracking open the stones and ushering in the guards—a group of boar-headed men with wide-set, matte black eyes set in wiry, mud-brown fur. They are dressed in leather armour with a dragon scale design, and various weapons hang from their belts or are carried in their hands—

They need no instruction beyond the simplest nod.

Carlos bites down on the first hand that reaches past him, trying for a fistful of Mal’s hair to drag her up. He draws a crude noise from the guard he’s wounded, but another moves in quick enough—

Mal is grabbed tight around the waist, weakening her kicks as she gasps for breath. Carlos is hoisted by the scruff of his jacket, but he writhes so much that he slips out from it easily, landing light on his feet, where he would normally make a break for it, except—

“Carlos,” Mal chokes out, a note of pleading in her voice.

He knows what she wants, what she’s trying to tell him.

He knows, if she could manage, she would say it’s an order.

But he doesn’t try to run.

Mal’s desperate eyes are the last he sees before a guard comes up behind him, pulling a sack down over his head and drawing the string tight, making him reach for his neck before his hands are roughly yanked away and burly arms lift him off his feet again.

Thick as the bag is over his head, the noises around him are slightly muffled, but loud as his breathing now sounds in his own ears, he hears Maleficent sigh, like this is all some inconvenience—

“Prepare the birdcage,” she addresses the guards, “and some chains for the mutt. No food, no water.” She pauses, then adds with a dark sense of promise, “If even one escapes, there will be pork roast for dinner, do you quite understand? Good. Now, to the dungeon.”

Maleficent’s dungeon is not unfamiliar.

Mal, Carlos, Jay, and Evie had plumbed the depths of the castle when they were all children. That was different than this, being carried down blind, hearing the echoes deepen, feeling the damp press in, a chill like death’s hands, goosebumps spreading—

There is sobbing, screaming, quiet moaning, and pleas behind the first door that opens at the bottom of the stairwell. They pass on through without a word from the guards or Maleficent herself.

Several more doors open and all sense of presence in the cells fades away to nothing. Now, there is only the footsteps, the rattle of chains and the clank of metal, words exchanged between the boar men in a guttural language, and underneath it all, the faintest of whimpers—

“You see now,” says Maleficent, “what your defiance will cost you, so I wonder…” She trails off and Carlos hears some shuffling, feels the bodies shift around him, and a hand pressing down on his head—

He’s forced onto his knees.

The bag is ripped away to reveal Mal, standing in front of him, with her mother behind her, one clawed hand on her shoulder—the other holding a knife, offering it for Mal to take—

But Mal’s just looking at Carlos.

“Slit his throat,” Maleficent whispers into her trembling daughter’s ear, lips close enough that she must tickle the flesh, “and I may just reconsider your punishment.” She trails her hand down from Mal’s shoulder, grabbing her wrist and guiding her puppet-like to grasp the knife. “Go on,” she urges. “His life is yours. He belongs to you. That’s what you’ve told me. Now, I’m telling you… to prove it…”

“Mal,” says Carlos, barely audible. I’ll come back goes unsaid.

She knows that. She knows that. Why won’t she just kill him?

This is the closest to mercy she will get from her mother.

Mal’s fingers twitch and Carlos holds his breath. He watches, heart pounding, as she slowly takes the knife, and then—much quicker than he can process such a stupid fucking decision—she’s whirling around, poised to stab her mother���s chest, no hesitation at all—

But Maleficent reacts, too fast for Mal to land the blade.

Her wrist is ensnared. Her mother’s face is stony.

This time, the knife is dropped.

It clatters to Mal’s feet and lays there, abandoned.

The silence that follows seems almost unnatural, as thick as it is—like a spell that can be broken by only Maleficent. And she does, but at her leisure, first gripping Mal’s chin with a punishing pressure—

“Do you want so much to die?” she asks, voice low and predatory.

Mal just stares at her, breathing hard and ragged, a soft-edged anger in her eyes, like fear is threatening to resurface—

She has no time to react before Maleficent withdraws her hand and brings it back with a hard slap that echoes off the stone walls and almost seems to make the torches flicker. The force of the blow should send Mal to her knees, but Maleficent grabs her, fisting her jacket, yanking her up. She takes a fistful of Mal’s hair and whips her head toward Carlos, forcing her to meet his eyes again—

“ANSWER ME, GIRL. WOULD YOU DIE FOR THIS DOG?”

Carlos, holding Mal’s gaze, almost imperceptibly shakes his head.

Mal stares at him for a moment, eyes bright with unshed tears, then her expression hardens and she spits blood at the ground, a trickle of red spit dribbling down her chin as she strains to tilt her head back and look at her mother, saying everything with her silence—

Maleficent’s lip curls. Her knuckles whiten, paler than pale—as though her skin is translucent, showing the bones. “Very well.”

She stoops, bending down to Mal’s ear—

“But know that, this time, you will not be buried.”

Maleficent straightens to her full, monstrous height, shoving Mal to her knees before she commands her, voice thunderous, to surrender her weapons, her jewelry, her outer clothing and her boots—

Pridefully, Mal looks back up at her mother as she moves to comply, slipping out of her jacket to show the knives strapped to her arms.

She removes them, one by one, and simply tosses them aside.

Carlos watches, breathing ragged, red creeping in at the edges of his vision. She’s giving up���and for what? “FUCK YOU, MAL!” he bursts out, startling the guards on either side of him; their grip on him had slackened, so he slides easily to the ground. “I’m not fucking worth it,” he growls, staring dead into Mal’s eyes. She looks stunned, on the verge of anger; then, the knife’s pulled from his boot, and—

“NO!” She’s up on her feet, lunging for Carlos before a pale, clawed hand hooks her upper arm, dragging her back with an effortless tug.

Carlos’ knife is at his own throat, and the guards who, at first, had moved to disarm him, are melting slowly back away. Their eyes are ever on their mistress, who has one hand raised—a silent command.

“Carlos,” Mal gasps softly, straining hard against her mother’s hold.

His eyes are raised above her head.

Maleficent is smirking.

She… wants him to…

Carlos falters, lowering the point of the knife from his throat to his collarbone. He looks at Mal, takes a breath, makes his decision—

And plunges the knife into the nearest boar man’s knee.

They squeal and the sound of it, so piercingly loud, rings in Carlos’ ears as the guards bear down. He thinks, for a second, somewhere through the din, that he hears Mal laugh—in spite of everything—

The thought is interrupted by a boot to his gut, leaving him winded. No time to catch his breath before he’s dragged up by his arms—and Mal is screaming now. He’s sure of that. He can’t focus on the words because there’s too much stimulation—the rattling of chains, the icy bite of metal, the hot breath on his face. He tenses under large hands checking over him for weapons, taking each as they’re discovered—

Carlos’ too-small boots are yanked off and he briefly feels the stone floor, burning cold beneath his bare feet; then, the chains hooked to his wrists are pulled up sharply toward the ceiling. The ground goes out from under him and he struggles not to flail, feeling panic swell up in him. He strains to touch the ground, but only manages on his tiptoes—and that’s only for a moment before a hard shove sends him swinging, shooting pain down through his shoulders—

The boar men snort with laughter as Carlos struggles, seemingly in vain. He gets a grip on the chains attached to his shackles and, with all the upper body strength he can muster, swings himself with legs outstretched—just when the guards have turned their backs to him.

He catches the nearest one around the neck, legs quickly constricting until the boar man starts to choke, clawing at Carlos’ skinny ankles as two of his fellows rush to assist him—

One grabs hold of Carlos’ leg and tries to pry it back, even almost succeeding—until his sweaty hands slip and Carlos’ leg snaps back with force, catching the choking man right in the snout. His tusks dig in to Carlos’ flesh, but the pain is distant from Carlos’ fury—

Until the weight of a spiked club connects with his hip.

He bites down on a cry as his legs come loose from around the boar men’s neck and heavily succumb to gravity. His shoulders ache and his hip throbs and he feels numbness in his fingertips.

Still, when a guard stoops to seize his good leg, Carlos spits down at their head and meets a snarl with a snarl. His ankle is shackled to a short length of chain, attached to an iron ball that’s set a little away.

His toes can touch it if he stretches, but it’s too heavy to drag nearer in any hope that he could stand on it, so he just glowers at the boar men as their numbers start to dissipate—

And Mal comes sharply back into focus.

She looks beaten down, quite literally, on her knees in front of her mother, wearing nothing but her thin, black underwear. There’s an open cage behind her, in the shape of a person much taller than her, albeit nowhere as tall as Maleficent, with her horns that scrape the ceiling. She is a god here on the Isle and she carries herself as one.

Huge, even at a distance, Maleficent’s stare turning suddenly on Carlos makes him feel like a lame deer in a grizzly’s line of sight.

“Still alive, I see,” Maleficent remarks.

Mal’s head jerks up and she meets Carlos’ eyes.

“There’s cruelty in you yet, child, to not have spared him this torture when I gave you the chance.” Maleficent smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “His pain will be immeasurable, and all because…” She tips forward, bending at the waist, one hand slowly extending until she cups Mal’s stubborn chin and forces it upward. “You are a sadistic, selfish little girl,” Maleficent coos, her voice like poisoned honey.

Mal tries to shake her head, but her mother holds her chin tight.

“He begged for a quick death, but you denied him…”

“SHUT UP!” Carlos bellows, writhing in his chains despite the pain that lances through him. He can’t listen anymore. He can’t just feel this helpless. “YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW?” He glares at Maleficent, all fear in him burnt up.

The air seems almost to coagulate, growing thick with a tension that holds the guards in their places, their eyes on their mistress as she rises to her full height, reaches out to take her staff, and—

“DON’T HURT HIM!” Mal bursts out, struggling up to her feet. She puts her arms out like a pair of spread wings—a feeble sort of shield.

Maleficent simply takes her staff in hand, face plain and unmoved.

“Speak again,” she says, addressing Carlos, “and I will cut out your tongue.” She looks at Mal, eyes dead of emotion, then lifts her staff and slams it down against the stone. “Enough of my time has been wasted on you.” She circles behind Mal, who turns to face her, wary as a mouse in the presence of Bastet. “Had I only known you’d be so human, so stupid and WEAK…” She takes a menacing step forward, backing Mal up to the birdcage. “This would have been your cradle.”

Maleficent shoves Mal and she goes stumbling backwards, right into the cage. Her head slams against the iron bars and she sinks dazedly down onto what feels like a stove with the switch just flicked on—

Her mother steps back and gestures for a boar man—one who shuts the iron cage, turns the key in the padlock, then—throwing his head back, jaws open to the ceiling—drops the key right down his throat and forces a swallow. He suppresses a cough before opening up his mouth again, presenting his throat for Maleficent’s inspection—

She perks an eyebrow, leaning over him, then gives a curt nod of approval. “Finish it,” she says with a snap of her fingers, and two boar men rush to operate a pulley made stubborn with rust—

Maleficent watches as the birdcage is raised several feet in the air—then higher still at her direction. Only when it is hanging out of the reach of any normal person does she utter, “There. Now secure it.”

Mal chokes down a whimper, just now starting to squirm.

Her mother regards her without any emotion, and somehow, that’s worse—worse than laughter or gloating or even… disappointment, because if Mal’s blood were pure, she would already be screaming.

“Mom.” The word escapes Mal as Maleficent turns her back—

She stops—and from his vantage point, Carlos sees her teeth flash.

It’s a moment, only, and then she’s icily calm. “Guards,” she says, and they come quickly to attention, awaiting her orders. She holds the room in silence uncomfortably long, slowly tapping her fingers against her staff. “You will inform Jafar and Evil Queen that I have withdrawn protection of their wretched whelps. Furthermore, that I will not tolerate any sight of the two in the shadow of my castle—and should they appear to darken my doorstep… I expect you will report to me with a body to be buried. Do you quite understand?”

She glances over her shoulder, then starts toward the door.

Mal stares after her wide-eyed, fists clenched tight around the iron bars. Her knuckles are bloodless, but her palms are reddening.

Her lips are parted, but she doesn’t speak.

Carlos is quiet, too—teeth grit so hard, his jaw aches. He’s breathing hard through his nose, glowering at Maleficent as she glides through the door, and all the boar men with her. The door slams shut and the jail keys jingle, locking up this cell that will, in days, become a tomb.

When all the footsteps have faded, Carlos finally screams—

Pure fury. Unspent anger. Hatred. Bloodlust. Wrath.

He’s not afraid. He will come back. He will come back. He’s not afraid. Death is familiar. He will come back. He’s not afraid. It isn’t that. It’s not the dying. Not the torture. Death’s familiar. So is pain.

It’s just that—if he hadn’t kissed her—

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated. And feel free to subscribe on AO3 if you want to be alerted when the next chapter comes out. Kudos and comments are lovely, as well! ♥

[aroace-poly-show]

i’m so so happy i have a 3 day weekend :)))

(<- ignoring the Horrors coming for me this weekend)

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: Turning 30

The Great shift was a huge time in many people’s lives. Especially those with birthdays who fell around the time of the great shift. Some turning 18, others turning 80! But still others had their hearts set on a time in their life that was quite pivotal. However, because of the shift some may have to wait a little longer to reach that milestone, while others have jumped leaps and bounds beyond it!

Harvey Singh (30 years old)

Fuuuck my head… and my clothes apparently. Damn. This is not what I imagined turning 30 would be like! 

Before the world went insane, I was so close! The damn great shift just had to happen right before my birthday. I was working at this law firm, a pretty shady place at first. Lots of scummy people taking advantage of others, but my boss was trying to turn it around! We kicked out those idiots who were causing trouble, got them arrested! I was gonna get promoted and help lead the charge for helping others… but not anymore.

The great shift landed me inside of Skyler Marlo! 18 year old quarterback for the local university. And right after a big party too. I couldn’t find a stitch of clothes to fit my new larger body. I was really lucky this frat house I woke up in had a towel nearby. But that was just the beginning of my nightmare. 

You see that smile of distress? Yeah that’s me. Instead of writing briefs and taking on clients in need, I’m here on the football field. Apparently after the upheaval the shift caused people are having trouble verifying identities and gaining access to their property/funds. That’s totally something I could be helping with! Instead I'm stuck back in the life of a teenager again. I wasn't a big fan of 18 last time I was in college.

The only thing that could get me after the shift was taking on this guy’s college scholarship. It gives me a place to stay and access to their college library, but I had to join the college football team. Some organizations like college athletics don’t seem to care who is shifted or not! As long as they got the players they need to draw in a crowd, they seemed perfectly content letting anyone play. Though who can blame them. If they saw me before I doubt they’d want some angry short king running their drills. No… now I’m not the 5’0 Indian guy who got overlooked in school. I look the picture of boy next door prom king that rules the college. 6’2, 195lbs of lean muscle, and size 15 feet. That last one took awhile to get used to! Finding cleats that size was the hardest part of this change. 

So here I am, sweating it out day after day to maintain my scholarship, while I wait for the day I’m recertified with my state’s bar! Once I’m a lawyer again I swear I’ll help out others like me forced to cling on to new lives while the system sorts things out. It sucks having to practice every day and do all these drills and grunt work! The college even has me posing for their promotional material to draw in bigger crowds at the game! Who would want this kind of life?!

Then again… it’s already been a few months… I may as well get used to college life… I was a nerdy brown kid my last run in college, mostly studying and doing what my parents wanted… now at least I can get a look at how the athletes lived… That frat did ask me if I wanted to join… I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun while I wait to get my life back.

After all, I do get pretty excited after an intense practice, and judging by some of the looks from my teammates, I may not be the only one eager to get to know my new body better. 

Phil Inver (30 years old)

People need to learn how to relax. I don’t know what the big deal is. So a bunch of people swapped bodies. What’s there to worry about? See me? I don’t have a care in the world. When I was turning 30 doctors told me I was overweight and at risk of diabetes, my work would always be on me for not applying myself, and my girlfriend said I was always too lazy in our relationship! 

But my mindset since the shift hasn’t changed! It landed me in this nice smooth and lean body! I’m glad that this guy kept in such good shape. Having actual abs is insane! Same for these toned arms! I’m not sure if he’s the shaving kinda guy or if he’s naturally smooth, but it sure as hell beats taking care of an unruly beard and body hair!

Turns out now that I look like this people are a bit more receptive to my ideals! Doctors say my heart is as healthy as a horse! Says my stress free lifestyle is a large part of that! My work? They now say my chill attitude makes things a lot more zen around the office. Guess they don’t care I don’t get too much done whenever I flash them a smile. And my girlfriend… or my boyfriend as he goes by now, certainly thinks I’m taking an active role in the bedroom. Who knew that my new stud of a boyfriend had a thing for Asian guys!?

So what am I gonna do now? Listen to music, chill as my boyfriend showers, and wait out the day as normal. Sure I’m turning 30, but it’s just another day in paradise for me! Oh what’s that? This body is only 21? Even better! I’ve got plenty of time to relax before I turn 30.

Devon Lin (30 years old)

So I was a bit nervous about turning 30. I feel like I haven’t really done all the things I wanted… and all my friends were joking saying it’s all downhill after that. I wasn’t dealing the best with the stress… Well like it or not the shift had me face that hurdle a few year further than I expected.

And I gotta say. It’s not as bad as I thought it was gonna be. Sure I’m a bit older, but hell  I look a hell of a lot more manly! Could it be that the shift landed me in a handsome 37 year old with a built body, tan skin,  and perfect beard? Maybe… but hey. Age is just a mindset… but these muscles sure aren’t! Boom!

You like that? So do the guys at the bar! They keep insisting I don’t shave my chest or pit hair too. I think I could pull off that look. That being said, I think anything looks good on a 6’5 stud like me. Tall, dark, and handsome all the way!

Before I would jump around from job to job. Bartender, janitor, waiter, and housekeeper, but lately I’ve found my job as a bouncer at the local bar a lot more rewarding. You’d be surprised how many fights stop once I take my shirt off and start playing pool with the patrons. I’ve won nearly every game of billiards I’ve played! Though I have the sneaking suspicion it may be due to the guys staring more at me than the balls.

Guess that’s one of the benefits to working at a chill gay bar! You know, I was always a bit insecure about my body and experimenting sexually. Being a shorter gay man with a chip on his shoulder would do that to you. Now… well let’s just say now I feel like I’ve got a lot more confidence! I may have missed my 30th birthday, but I think I know how I’m gonna spend my 38th!

Marcus Garcia (30 years old)

They say when you get older you begin to value things differently. Honestly I didn’t know what to expect when I turned 30. Was I supposed to be wiser all of a sudden? Have a plan for things? In truth plenty of people younger than me had their life together compared to me. Partners. Kids. A stable job. A house.

In short. I thought I had more time. But we don’t always get to choose how fast life comes at us. I mean look at me. Didn’t expect the shift to make me 55.

Losing 25 years of my life was definitely not the easiest. The great shift nearly tears the world apart and I’m running for my life looking like retirement is right around the corner. That first day was definitely a wake up call that I did not have the same stamina that I used to. In that opening week of the shift I was pretty much running on adrenaline and coffee wherever I could get it. I took lots of naps just to stay sane. 

As the days went on and society slowly readjusted to some version of normal, I began to actually have time to look at my body. I mean I was a pretty skinny guy before, my sister would always say I needed to workout more. But I guess all it took was 25 years of my life to finally get in shape. 

Not only that, but I’m admiring the body hair. This guy was a pretty hairy dude. The salt and pepper stubble had guys starting me daddy at the gay bars, while the chest hair was still dark like my eyebrows and made my impressive physique pop. 

My feet were pretty big too. Size 14! Twice as big as my old feet, but just as hard to find shoes my size. 

Needless to say there were highs and lows to my new life. Was I happy that i was 6’6 now? Sure! Loved being tall and nearly bonking my head on doorframes. Was I upset lots of my joints were sore and that I could only take my coffee black to avoid dairy and sugar? No… that sucked. I liked my sweet drinks and I missed not waking up in pain.

Omar LeRon was a guy that lived along my street. He was a single dad raising his 5 year old, all at the age of 45.

I later learned he had a few wild days in his early 40s that lead to Omar Jr. And now in his mid 20s again he’s glad he could be more present for his son! Even if his son is the same age as him now.

He told me all of this one day when we both left our house for a jog. He found that doing some running in his new body helped him vent some much needed energy from his body, while I needed to do something physical if I was to have any hope of maintaining healthy workout routines for mine! 

Needles to say he offered some words of wisdom growing up and it really helped put some things in perspective. Meanwhile, I gave him some tips about helping his son. Turns out all those years working at my aunt’s day care counted for something, even for post shifted kids!

Our conversations started as friendly advice and then grew into more! Talks became dates. Dates became moving in. Moving in became an engagement! Now a few years after the wedding I guess you truly can call me a daddy now. Jr. sure does. He’s doing great in school and is looking forward to next week when my sister is gonna watch him for the summer.

My husband and I are gonna take our first real vacation since the great shift! We’re looking forward to it! We’ll be celebrating Omar’s 30th birthday in his new body now! He keeps making jokes saying, “Well I’ve done it before. Nothing to it the second time around.” And “Well here I thought your 30th birthday was extreme. I doubt I could top that”

He also never stops teasing me about how he loves being married to an older man and that I’m not as young as I used to be. We know it’s all in good fun. I mean, I can still keep up with him in the bedroom, where it counts… as long as he gives me a few minutes to recover after. Young guys like him are insatiable. I’ll try to power through though. After all, you only turn “30” once.

[officialjanetweiss]

List 8 tv shows for your followers to get to know you.

Tagged by @nero-neptune

OOPS I was tagged in this like a year ago and am just getting around to posting it 😅 I’m the queen of starting these and then saving them to my drafts to finish later and then just abandoning them. ANYWAY

(I, too, am giving a lil blurb for each one bc I love to talk)

Desperate Housewives

I started watching it a couple weeks ago finished it in the spring and I love one (1) republican. I am now slowly thrifting all of the seasons on DVD

My mom watched it when it first aired and I never sat down and joined her but I remember catching glimpses. As an adult I knew I would love it before I even started and I was right! It has WOMEN. It’s outrageous. It’s hilarious. It’s addicting. The theme song is glorious!! Almost every episode title is a reference to a Sondheim song!!! It has (mostly) aged surprisingly well. And in general it just reminds me of a time before streaming when TV was…different. Idk how to put it into words but first of all, remember when shows had 20+ episodes per season? Never forget what they took from us.

Glee

IYKYK. Any “old” songs I know I know because of either Glee or Rockband. Jayma Mays was my awakening. It introduced me to Rocky Horror and many other musicals. It got me into media literacy/critique and was the first show that I anticipated every single week and the first show I gave up on before it ended. I could go on for ages but you just had to be there (my tumblr from 2012-2015).

Passions

I watched this with my mom as a little kid and am slowly rewatching now. Soap operas are a staple on her side of the family and Passions is the only one I ever got into, because I was like 4 and there was ✨magic✨. As an adult I’m not even really into fantasy but in this case it works for me bc it’s so balls to the wall insane. I definitely don’t think I could get into it today if it weren’t for the childhood nostalgia. It ran for almost 10 years, which is not long considering some soaps are still kicking after 50 or 60. But at 2,231 episodes it’s a LOT if you’re not used to the slow pacing of the soap opera format. It’s so special to me though. I have cat and baby names picked out bc of characters on this show. AND THE THEME SONG!!

Soap

My all time fave. For 10 years I have run the only tumblr blog dedicated to Soap. It’s hilarious and touching and was ahead of its time. Susan Harris is a genius. Fleabag falling in love with a priest? Susan Harris did it first. That lady on Days of Our Lives being possessed? Susan Harris did it first. Who shot JR? Susan Harris did it first. The Golden Girls sitting at a table eating dessert and talking about sex? Susan Harris did that but she also did it BEFORE SHE DID IT. I’ve rewatched this show so many times and there are still scenes that make me laugh out loud. I would die for Jessica Tate. Bury me with the boxset.

That Girl

Just started watching this (in real time, not a year ago) and it’s just so fun!! Marlo Thomas is a cutie. Her wardrobe is unreal. I’ve laughed out loud quite a few times. She has great chemistry with the leading man whose actor’s name I shan’t bother to look up. I feel like I started watching it at the perfect time in my life too.

Ann Marie 🤝🏼 Cute little aspiring actresses who just moved out on their own to the big city and don’t have sex 🤝🏼 Me

Trial & Error

Came for Jayma, stayed for everything. Last year I watched Arrested Development for the first time and if you like that show I think you’ll like Trial & Error. Mockumentary style, wacky characters, great running gags. It was gone too soon and I’m still waiting for a season 2 DVD release.

Out of the Box

Here’s a throwback bc who am I if I don’t put a kids show on the list? I loved this show when I was little. It’s so underrated. I showed it to my current babysitting kids when I first started watching them and they love it too :,) Watching it as an adult makes me so emotional idk why. It warms my heart. If I were to ever become a preschool teacher I would make the babies sing the ending song at their graduation and make their parents cryyyy. If you have little guys in your life you should show it to them. It’s on Disney + (eewwww) but there might be episodes on youtube too.

Instead of blabbing about an 8th show here are some runner ups that I’ve enjoyed over the years, some of which I think are v underrated: Tuca & Bertie, Girlfriends, Mum (BBC, not to be confused with Mom, which I also enjoy), Fleabag, Go On, Jane the Virgin, Wonderfalls, Masters of Sex (might be due for a rewatch of that one), The Fosters (fuck them kids tho), Pushing Daisies, One Mississippi

I tag @lifesizehysteria @cakesexuality @sic-transit-gloria-mea and you can do it again @nero-neptune, I know you have more shows to talk about.

[jessicatredes]

if you're comfortable, i'd love to learn more about your hunger games oc, sutherland. she seems so cool! do you have anything you could share? 💖

awww thank you!!! im still kinda workshopping her character but here's what i currently have established for her :-) i wrote more than i though i would so under the cut lol

because suzanne collins named her characters with the influence of their district (i.e. glimmer from d1), i wanted to do the same for sutherland! district 10 is typically shown in the southwest of north america on panem maps, & sutherland literally means "southern land."

her faceclaim is emmy rossum! sutherland is around 5'6, and with her work in the fields of d10, she's got a slightly better build than those from other districts. she has brown hair & eyes, and is mainly dressed in a palette of oranges & browns.

at first she isn't really sure why she volunteered. she didn't know marlo or the hacketts well at all, but there was just something about seeing a family already so affected by the games having another child reaped. she was also going to be kicked out of her community home soon, because she's 17 at the start of the 68th games. during her interview with caesar, she plays up that she volunteered to win & is confident in her ability to, but really she didn't think it fair that a victor's child was reaped.

her main mentor is falabella hackett, marlo's mother. she coached sutherland to turn everything surrounding her reason for volunteering away from marlo & her family, and instead because she wanted to win the games. falabella didn't want any fallback on her family because sutherland decided to say she thought it was fucked up victor's kids get reaped.

in d10, she worked with both horses & cattle. compared to the other livestock raised there, she was happy to work with cattle since it felt "freer" working in the pastures & riding horses. bc im making her a #horse girl, if she hadn't volunteered, she would've liked to work solely with the horses raised for the capitol (tribute parade, etc.). as a victor she owns a couple herself & rides as her talent.

she knows the basics of leatherworking, but she prefers embroidery as a craft. after she won her games, her stylist always dressed her with something that had embroidery throughout it.

she had a similar mindset to gale (how different can it be killing an animal vs tribute) when entering the games. because of this, she made no attempt to make allies, even with her district partner tatum. she stuck to herself and avoided other tributes for the first few days of the game. she eventually would use bear traps scattered around the arena to take out most of the career pack.

speaking of bears!!! she almost dies to a muttation that's basically a crazy bear monster. it was down it the final three when it attacked her, but the other two tributes took each other out before she could be killed by it. the capitol initially had her keep the scars it gave her, since the citizens were so enamored by her survival. she is often gifted bear trinkets or furs, and she cannot stand it.

im not having her story have a huge influence/change on the source material, but i am retconing the d10 tribute dying in catching fire lol. i haven't decided if i want her to have been rescued during the games OR from the capitol yet though (either way she was in on the plan).

for the 75th games she volunteers again (technically making her the only person to ever volunteer twice lol) she's the youngest out of all the living tributes, doesn't have children, & knows she can help keep katniss alive during the quarter quell.

by the time cf & mj roll around, sutherland has been a victor & mentor for 7 years. she also has spent a significant amount of time in the capitol. while it appears she's paraded around by the same guy (justinian) all the time, they're both actually part of the underground group plutarch was a part of to overthrow the capitol. he also manages to get to district 13 for mj.

sutherland would absolutely vote no for a ceremonial final hunger games. ik the math wouldn't work out then with the vote at the end of mj, but idc enough to figure that out LMAO. she knows justinian's nieces/nephews & also can't imagine any child being put through that.

[estrel]

Are You Happy? (Save Them Some Pie)

HAPPY 42ND BIRTHDAY, DEAN!! this is my gift to him for being my comfort person that i would hug on sight if given the chance 💗 love you dude, may you indulge in copious amounts of pie. ~ 1.5k words.

also dedicated to marlo ( @heller-jensen ), jace ( @thiscastielhasflown ) and dee ( @castee-yel ) thanks for bein real ones <3

[READ ON AO3]

The day had already started out weird enough.

Dean had woken up drenched in sweat, mind racing with the last lingering thoughts of a nightmare. A vamp nest that he and Sam had been hunting, Dean dying in the most ludicrous way possible, and driving Baby down a long road for an indiscriminate amount of time in a supposed heaven that his father (his father) also co-habited. Needless to say, the dream had come out of nowhere, but it was easy enough to forget once the smell of bacon made its way into his room.

Breakfast was hardy and quick, with enough coffee to fuel him for the rest of the day as he skimmed the internet for a possible case. He had the itch, but apparently, looking around at the three sleepy faces around him at the table, no one else did.

He packed up anyway, preparing for what would likely be an easy salt-n-burn; he’d be gone for only a few hours, tops. On his way out, Cas stops him before he can scale the stairs, arm gripping his shoulder tightly. There’s a memory, briefly—the same hand, the same shoulder. Blood.

Dean looks down at it. Back at Cas.

“…Yeah?”

After a moment, Cas lets go. He steps back half an inch as if he had forgotten himself. “Just…be careful.”

Dean nods, moving to leave again, taking the awkwardness as both a Cas thing and a morning thing and content to leave it at that. 

“And,” Cas says. Dean turns back.

“Come home.”

//

Dean picks up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Dean, hey! It’s, uh. It’s me. Krissy?”

Dean feels himself begin to smile, mindful of the road ahead of him. He balances his phone on his thigh while he drives.

“Hey, kid! Long time no call. How are you? Everything okay?”

The case had been as easy as Dean had suspected, but he had that familiar muscle ache and heaviness to his eyes that solo cases usually gave him.

Besides that, he was getting a little confused about all of the calls he’d been getting today. Before Krissy, it had been Garth, and before that, Claire and Jody and…

“Uh, yeah, dude, everything’s good. Um. How are you? How’s Sam and that angel of yours?”

Dean swallows to keep from choking, or potentially crashing the car.

“They’re good. Yeah…good.” Alive, he wants to say, back from the dead, probably in the DeanCave watching Scooby Doo without him. “Sorry, Krissy, ah,” he steps off the break to make a left, “I’m actually on my way home right now. Was there something I could help you with?”

There’s a pause, and Dean chances a glance at his phone to see if the call had dropped off. It hadn’t.

“Krissy?”

“I,” she huffs in what sounds like a laugh, “Nothing, Dean. You get home safe, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“And hey,” Krissy says, before he can say his goodbyes, “Uh, make sure you save some pie for everybody else.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrow a bit, but he laughs. “I will. Take care of yourself.”

“Bye, Dean.”

“Ba-bye.”

//

Dean’s still mulling over the pie comment when he nearly falls down the stairs, squinting into the darkness of the Bunker.

“What the hell?” he asks, voice hoarse around the high note. “Guys?”

When there’s no immediate answer, Dean’s instincts kick in. He pulls out his gun and gently drops his bag, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust so he can try for the stairs.

Before he can, though, the lights kick back on. His gaze locks onto the scene below, and Dean slowly lowers his gun.

“Happy birthday!” Jack says, the sound of a party horn whining shortly after. Beside him, Cas pulls the string of a party popper, and he jerks as bits of confetti fall around him and into his hair.

Skeptically, Dean starts descending down the stairs.

“You…this…” he manages.

“It’s your birthday, dumbass,” Sam says, swooping forward to slap a party hat on Dean’s head as soon as he’s made the landing. He smiles.

“Oh…kay.” Around them, the Bunker looks pretty normal. The only difference is the array of pies on one of the library tables, next to what looks like home made rice krispie treats, and a couple of birthday-themed plates and napkins. That, and the confetti from Cas’ party popper that litters the floor. “Are you sure?”

Cas frowns at Sam. “Sam was certain. I can’t imagine he’d get the day wrong, but he has had quite severe brain trauma over the years. Perhaps…” Cas reaches out to Sam’s head, probably intent on searching his brain for said trauma, or for the date of Dean’s actual birthday. Sam swats his hand away.

“Hey, no. My trauma is fine. Dean,” Sam redirects his attention to him, “It’s today. Did you really forget?”

Dean shrugs, trying to piece the day together from the beginning. Shitty dream, good breakfast, the three of them weirdly insisting on staying at the Bunker…the calls. Save some pie for everybody else.

He laughs. “So that’s what she meant.”

“That’s what who meant?” Jack asks. He’s wearing a party hat, too, with ridiculous stripes of blue and pink and purple patterned onto it. It matches the one currently strapped to Dean’s own. He shakes his head.

“You’re telling me all of you knew? This whole time? And…and…” He looks around again, pointing vaguely at the table and the confetti. “You put this all together for me?”

Sam shoves his arm playfully. “Course we did. Now quit pouting and come eat some pie.”

//

Sam is fast asleep, sprawled out on the couch hours later with one of his hands brushing the floor. Dean thinks he spots drool on the pillow underneath him. 

Cas has been quiet next to Dean, at least since Jack had disappeared into the kitchen an hour ago and hadn’t come back, thoughtfully tracing the lip of his beer bottle with his finger. 

“Something on your mind?” Dean asks, because he wants to know.

Cas continues unbothered. Scooby Doo reruns play in the background. Dean almost repeats the question, but Cas eventually lifts his gaze to stare at him.

“Are you happy?” 

Dean presses his mouth shut. Licks his lips. He takes just as long to answer.

“You know what,” he smiles. “I think I am.”

Cas smiles back at him, soft and genuine. The skin around his eyes crinkling tells more than the gentle upturn of his mouth. 

Dean swallows, nervously putting his beer down and turning it a few times until his fingers are wet with the condensation. 

“What, uh. What about you?” He swallows again. “You happy?”

What he really wants to ask, though, is if they were good. If, after recent events, they were still the same. If Cas was still fine with “just being.”

He’s quiet again. Dean thinks he deserves that, and tries to pay attention to the TV, but the voice in his head is too loud. Cas has to tap his knee to get his attention again.

“Hm?”

“I was saying,” he moves his hand back, “that I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift.”

Dean stares at him. “What are you talking about?”

Cas looks confused, like he’s about to repeat what he just said. Dean stops him short with a wave of his hand. 

“Dude, you just got back from the dead, alright? That’s—that’s gift enough to last me a lifetime. Don’t worry about a gift.”

Cas frowns, and Dean rolls his eyes. It’s another few moments of tense silence, until Dean breaks it, his heart pounding in his chest.

“But, uh,” he says, “I might have a gift for you.”

“Dean, we don’t share a birthday. It’s not customary to gift me something, especially when I haven’t given you—“

“Cas,” he groans, officially putting his beer aside and facing him. Cas’ features are lit up with the colors of the TV. Dean reaches a hand up to pluck confetti from his hair, a green piece that he’d been eyeing all night. Hesitating, he lets his hand fall to Cas’ face, smoothing over his cheek and jaw. The TV paints his cheekbone purple. Dean brushes his thumb over it. “Just...shut up and let me do this.” 

Cas tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed in that way of his, and Dean thinks he looks perfect. When he dips forward and presses their lips together, it’s perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s warm, his face is burning, eyes almost watering when he pulls away.

Dean lets his forehead rest on Cas’, heartbeat still crazy. He closes his eyes. “We can have it, Cas. This. We can have this.”

Cas takes Dean’s face in his hands, lifts it a little to bring them face to face again, so that he’s looking into Dean’s eyes.

“I’d like that, Dean,” he says, and his eyes are wet, too. Happy, Dean thinks.

“Your gift to me?” Dean manages, smile wobbly. He’s teasing, trying to bring down the weight of this without getting rid of all of it. He likes this type of adrenaline rush, different from any hunt he’s been on. Better.

Cas smiles. “I think technically it was you that gifted me, but, yes. My gift to you, if you’ll take it.”

“Gladly,” Dean says.

Cas hums back, brushing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “Happy birthday, Dean.” He leaves a kiss on his forehead.

Happy. 

Dean thinks, for the first time, as he pulls more confetti from Cas’ hair, that it actually is. 

—

tag list (ask to be added/removed):

@castiels-a-lamp @jellydeans @writtenmemxries @cestladean @randomblabbling @fluffiestlou @dreamnovak @weird-dorky-little-d @depressivedemonnightmaredean @castiels-pussy @friedchickenangelwings @galaxycastiel @destielle @dickspeightjrs @on-a-bender @organicpurplepants @casbelieves @samuelswinchester @spacegirlstuff @seffersonjtarship @winchester-novak @professorerudite @squintingg @holmesemrys @imnotrevealingmyname @mishha @good-things-do-happen-dean @angxlsgrxce @casandeans @castielscrookedtrenchcoat @destiel-in-its-natural-habitat @gracelesschoice @superduckbatrebel @iheardyourprayer @top13zepptraxx @that-one-fandom-chick @scoobydean @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh @maxguevra @cursed-or-not @i-think-im-humanbut-cant-besure @blazeinthedark @madilineskingdom @awolfnamedaliac @castee-yel @tearsofgrace @credentiast @fivefeetfangirl @my-favourite-hellatus @gray-is-neutral @sunflower-vol-28 @ensignabby @ar-bi-trary @lulu-zodiac @y-yo-a-ti-dumbass @castielology @nguyenxtrang @hermit-cas @supergaycas @deancasology @miadeline @save-the-sloths @goblinwritergay @theroguetranslator @imals18 @downtherabbitholeproductions

[distopea]

@royaletiquette

❝ why should i trust you again ? ❞ (Hibiko/Marlo)

Prompt list - angst edition (accepting)

The question Hibiko asked was full of resentment and mistrust, and surely, her goal was to probably hurt Marlo’s ego, but instead of that, there was a smile curling his lips. He rolled on his back, always in such a dramatic way, looking with his golden eyes to the face of the princess. For once, she asked the right question. She was widening her vision of this world, and Marlo, right there, was blessed by it. All that potential… 

He eventually rolled back on his feet; his canines exposed as he stepped closer from Hibiko. He loved to invade her personal space, probably because he had a lot of fun reading her emotions and the rhythm of her heart. How to blame her for her lack of trust in him? He was a god of many mischief after all, and his riddles were often quite misleading for anyone playing with them.

“Why should you, mmh~? That’s a good question.” He extended his fingers, brushed the length of her hair. Soft. He liked it. As much as he was growing fond of her. She could resent him for his attitude, yes, but at least, she didn’t try to outsmart him either. She was just curious… and wary. “Honestly, I have no answer to give you. Trusting me is quite a mistake. Didn’t you see how much of a manipulator I am, Hibiko darling? I’m faking my way to be a servant of this palace, while I’m here every day and night to pester the princess herself until she would ask me favors. Or more? Naughty, if our little secret ever reaches ill-intentioned ears.”

He chuckled and then captured her hand, brushing the top of it with his lips. He then abandoned his grip – he sensed she was not happy with his attitude. Marlo smiled, and then cocked his head aside. “Hibiko, no one shall be trusted in the world you live in.” He said, slightly more serious than before. “You were born to carry the burden of the royal blood, and today, whether you wish to be free, whether you decide to trust those who surround your life, none of them will be trustworthy if you ever decide to stop playing their games.” He placed a hand on his chest. “But me, my darling, at least I don’t pretend that my intentions are only for your well-being. I’m quite honest in my deceiving attitude.”

He moved around and then sat back at the edge of the bed, almost alluring her. “Hibiko darling, it’s in mankind's nature to trust and betray. I have observed you long enough to know that it’s very much the fuel of humanity.” He rolled back on her bed, laid there, while he kicked his boots off his feet. “I should return the question. One day you might be the one betraying me, when you’d consider that it’s better for your own selfish design. I don’t blame you, princess. I embrace it.” He looked back up, licked his lips. 

“Come on… Right now, we’re having fun. Would you really want to spoil it when you act with me the way you have always desired? You’re free, around me.” He patted the bed, as if Hibiko would suddenly decide to join and cuddle. “This is my very first gift to you.”

[fuck-you-i-am-spiderman]

Spidey *Descendants* Ships:

I've answered the questions about ships I like through a tier system ages ago but I feel like listing them again. This is probably going to be a long post, since as I said I ship a lot. If anything isn't on here it's because I don't care or don't think about them enough.

Category: Babies™/I would die for them/none will compare to how strongly I love them aka my favourite ships

Rotten ot4 (Mal/Carlos/Evie/Jay) - I write a lot of ot4, it's where my mind naturally goes for them because I love all of the dynamics within that too much. Marlos are my fave dynamic within that tho.

Malvie + Jaylos - I can ship these outside of the ot4. I like them a lot and either way I ship these, these two will always be romantic for me. The other dynamics I only ship within an ot4 scenario, or platonically.

Category: the good shit/iconic King and Queen shit/ships I really like but I'm not as passionate about

Huma + Sea 3 - these are two very good ships and again it can be romantic or platonic for me, both are good.

Sea 3 + Ben - I really like all of their interactions and I can very much get into the idea of them as an ot4

Ben + Harry - I think it's the "coochie coo" thing that did it for me, I think they have a lot of potential and if not explicitly romantic then Harry at the very least flirts with Ben on a daily basis

Category: soft™/these are nice to think about/filed under cuties but I don't think about them as much

Benlos (Ben/Carlos) - every now and again I get random thoughts about them, because they're cute 🥺 and I like them dancing together in D1. (I also think of them as a brotp and very occasionally as an ot5)

Jannie (Jane/Lonnie) - the potential!!!! I feel like they'd be super cute and I can see them going on double dates with Jaylos a lot. I am a sucker for tall and smol pairings where you think the one who's small is quiet but they're actually super badass and the tall badass one but is super soft for her gf. Yes!!!!!!

Luma (Lonnie/Uma) - I think I'm the only one that actually ships this but I just feel like they'd be really good together. The potential is there! I feel like they'd always be sparring together and I feel like they're a good match. I can really see it and I feel like Uma would have a lot fo respect for Lonnie and vise versa.)

Gil/Jay - they're cute. I am very low-key about them, because I'm so into rotten ot4 and Jaylos I'm never fully in with these two. But I still appreciate the cuteness and I feel like they'd be really good bros.

Category: hmmm/the potential/I don't think about them a lot but they're okay or exes only

Balvie - cuteeeee. Like they'd be super cute and they'd be able to balance one another out quite well. This is really only how I can get into Ben/Mal as a romantic ship, idk for me I just need Evie in there. They're like brawn, brain and beauty all mixed into one ot3, there's not a lot of content for them but I'm definitely into the idea.

Umal (Mal/uma) - I only like them as exes. I don't care for anything where they're written as enemies, I'm tired of that. Umal as besties that occasionally flirt with one another to get a rise out of the other, or as exes. None of this enemies crap, I'm not here for it.

Jarry (Jay/Harry) - again, only ever as exes. I don't think they'd ever get together in any other capacity. I like their dynamic and their banter, so I can see them as a brotp who bicker like they're a married couple, but nothing mroe than that. So both Uma and Mal, and Harry and Jay have a banter type friendship (at least in my mind)

Ot5 (Rotten ot4 + Ben) - only in specific circumstances, but I do think the potential is there and I like them. I am reading a really good ot5 fic that has such good potential and for someone who is very low-key about them it's one of my favourite fics within this fandom. So not always but definitely not against them either!

Category: brotps I could get behind ✌️/platonic only

Jay + Ben - bonding over tourney, Jay teasing Ben about how he has a crush on every VK he meets.

Mal + Jay + Ben - banter Central, Mal and Jay teasing Ben, Ben fully encouraging both Jay and Mal in tourney and art. I feel like Ben would be super supportive and it would definitely throw Mal and Jay off a lot

Evie + Harry - Harry as Evie's model because he loves to talk about fashion and he's open to any fashion ideas she has. A very soft and playful friendship is what I imagine.

Carlos + Harry + Mal - the chaotic three. I feel like they're pranking constantly, they're the Kings and Queen of comebacks because they've always got a one-liner up their sleeves. They're always bantering and bickering, but I feel like they're a very underrated friendship and they have a lot of potential

Uma + Carlos (and probably Evie) - study buddies. They're the squad that are constantly rolling their eyes at the others and judging people together. Smart and resourceful and they're the squad that captures everyone's attention because they have A+ looks

Mal + Harry - nicknames galore. Bantering non-stop, but also a side of softness because they can just vibe when the other is upset. Silly shenanigans and teasing one another relentlessly. The type of friends to send an "ugly" photo of the other in the group chat.

Rotten four + Sea 3 - like just give me this squad and explore the different dynamics between them. I don't want any fighting, I just want them as a super squad kicking ass and working through their traumas together. That's all.

Category: NO/get the hell away from me/not in this lifetime Satan 🚫

D*vie (D***/Evie) - never. I have a very fond hc where Evie infact buries D*** in her castle garden and that's the nicest thing I can think of when it comes to them. I didn't like him from the start and if anything the more I see him the more I despise him.

Anything with Chad - sorry, I just don't like him. He's good for blaming, like if I'm writing something where someone says something to the Vks it's usually him as the antagonist type. There's no ship I care for his presence in. I think I saw one gifset months back with Chad and Ben having a cute/dorky interaction but otherwise I could not care less about him.

Honestly, anything with Audrey in too is generally a no-go for me. I just don't care. I don't like Audrey at all, I can sympathise with some things but not enough to make me want to ship her with anyone. That's all I'm going to say.

[daggery]

Jayvie + POSSUM !!

(there’s marlos at the end! also, warning, well over 50% of this post is not to be taken seriously. unless you care to >:))

there are isle possums and auradon possums the same way there are american possums and australian possums :) ! i’ve seen at least three posts before about the similarities between australia and the isle and somehow none of them have mentioned how they have the same sort of possum... interesting! /s anyways, yup the isle has the cute australian ones and auradon has the mean american ones

so what i thought of was this post 

link

basically when the rotten four are in auradon, at some point an AK goes oh shoooot there’s a possum over there, and evie awws and maybe tries to go look at it. and look i’m not saying that evie picks it up. it probably hisses at her and she’s like “excuse me?” and jay’s something-is-very-wrong-here instinct kicks in and he grabs her and backpedals many steps. but the image of evie holding a possum in the way that the girl is holding that raccoon.. evie holding a possum and being like “it has no manners”..... i am not saying that evie picks it up but i am saying that there is an image that exists in my head

and thinking about the phrase playing possum: the core four are driving home from a trip and they arrive home really late and like, evie was taking a nap but semi-wakes up when they arrive. but she pretends to still be asleep when jay scoops her up and carries her inside and sets her gently on her bed and tucks her in. when he tries to leave she clings to his arm and goes nooooo.. cuddleeeeeee... but he just whispers sleeeeeeeeeep back at her and goes to help unload the car or whatever. but dw he comes back soon djsjkicneisk. cuddling…….. yeah 🥰

OR. okay bear with me, this paragraph has nothing to do with possums but it is setting up the next paragraph (this is the excuse i’m telling myself), and also it is along similar lines of that whole “everybody thinks jay and evie are sucking face in the bathroom stall but in reality they’re trading knives” thing lol. anyways. so i think it’s v good if jayvie’s that trope where, ok let’s say this is an au where jayvie have to steal intel or smth by infiltrating a fancy party. (heist au? idk.) so evie and jay are the type who, if they’re about to get caught snooping around, start making out and get really loud and when they are found out, they act drunk and go “this is sooo embarrassing [weird giggling][evie and jay both start hitting on the security]” so ppl are like ok they’re just that embarrassing drunk couple and they let jayvie go. jay and evie are delighted whenever they get to do this bc it’s fun and they think it’s hilarious. it works out great, it is their go-to plan.

BUT MARLOS ON THE OTHER HAND. they are very different. mal and carlos would put their heads together to plan out a cool elaborate prank that they’re gonna pull on jay and evie. but then one day while they’re discussing the prank, marlos hears jay’s and evie’s voices right outside of the room’s door and realize that they are about to come inside any second now. mal and carlos unfortunately do not have a go-to plan for ‘what to do when you’re about to be caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing,’ so they freak out and go oh crap oh crap oh crap PLAY DEAD and then jay and evie walk into the room to find mal and carlos just like… limply flopped over on each other on the floor doing absolutely nothing. jayvie stares at them in an extended period of silence until mal and carlos crack and then it’s

marlos: we're not guilty of anything

jayvie:

jayvie: who said anything about gu-

marlos, in a desperate attempt to distract: 

jayvie + possum = jayvie + marlos = rotten ot4? :D and actually, you know what’s better than me using a possum reaction pic to describe marlos? jayvie using possum reaction imgs to describe marlos. evie discovers the reaction imgs and immediately texts them to jay. without saying a single word to each other, they both start spamming the group chat with possums going :V AAAAAAAAAA :V and when marlos asks them what’s going on, jayvie’s just like “u!” (evie spells it out to you). the next time the core four all see each other in person (like 10 minutes later), jayvie asks marlos, “would you like to see a picture of a possum?” and marlos is like “NO-” but then jay and evie just go “✋ look at this” and show them a bunch of very cute pictures of possums :)

this post has already gone in many directions but i just want to say one last thing. so i finished watching julie and the phantoms recently and my brain said to me, “jayvie and the possums.” THE ACRONYM IS JATP FOR BOTH OF THEM. THERE ARE THE SAME NUMBER OF SYLLABLES. ALRIGHT BYE LMAO

send me a ship + a word for a headcanon!

[alyssalenko]

Glasses

@vorchagirl wasn't feeling the greatest not too long ago, so I wrote her a get well soon fic starring Harry Carlyle and Sis!Ryder (who I have since dubbed Rydyle because I'm tired of typing that out all the time) super smutty fic inspired by doctors being the worst patients and an inappropriate doctor pun, which also inspired the image of Harry Carlyle in glasses...Feel better honey! Art by @starsandskies and also on AO3.

Marlo damn near dropped her tray, when entered her quarters, finding Harry propped up on her pillows, four datapads spread across his lap, wearing a pair of rectangular, black-framed glasses. It shouldn't have been possible for him to be more attractive, and she did her best to quell the fires of her raging libido; he was sick, after all. Even if it had taken him two days to even admit it. It had taken everything she had--every tool in her arsenal to convince him that he wasn't going to get her sick by sleeping in the same bed, but apparently dragging him onto the Tempest to rest hadn’t worked...doctors made the worst patients. She honestly wasn't surprised to find him like that, but it occurred to her she should've sent someone to watch him and make sure he didn't work. The lopsided grin on his face told her he hadn't expected her back so soon, and he’d meant to hide it before she caught on. She rolled her eyes as she shook her head, settling in beside him on the bed and placing the food tray across his lap, before placing a gentle hand on his forehead to check his fever. His skin was still hot to the touch.

“How are you feeling?”

“Well enough to go back to work.” He grumbled, picking at the bread on the side of the tray.

She laughed, holding one hand out in front of them. “Oh really? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“With the thumb? Seven.”

“Okay, barring the fact that that’s impossible for one hand, the fact that you, a medical professional, even thought that was a remotely okay answer, shows you’re delusional with fever.”

She wondered what state his reports were in if he was that far gone as she dipped the spoon into the soup and held it up to his mouth. He didn't fight her, probably couldn't even remember what she'd said at this point. With his glasses and that confused expression, it was a wonder she didn't knock the whole tray on the floor and straddle him...instead she kissed his cheek, enjoying taking care of him for once. After finishing the soup, bread and apple juice she’d brought since they were easy on his stomach, she set the dishes gently on the floor and the datapads on her nightstand pushing him backwards and adjusting the pillows so he could lie comfortably. She propped herself against the wall, removing his glasses, and setting them on the nightstand as he snuggled into her, his head on her shoulder and her fingers running through his hair. Harry draped his arm possessively across her lap and pulled her towards him, relaxing slightly as he slipped into an easy doze. Even in sleep, he didn't loosen his grip.

He needed the rest.

An air of vulnerability surrounded him, as Marlo pulled the blanket up over them, one hand still tangled in his hair--his breathing evening out as she held him indicating he’d finally fallen asleep; she hated seeing him like this. She pulled up her omnitool, reading all her pathfinder reports as Harry slumbered beside her, unaware of the passage of time. His brow furrowed as he kicked at the blankets, his body trying to fight off the fever, before he sat up, dazed and stripped off his shirt throwing it to the floor and making her bite her lip before he settled back down and wrapped himself back around her--she loved that he was a cuddler, a slow smile spreading across her face as she watched him, her other hand rubbing up and down his bare back. He was starting to sweat as he thrashed again, this time succeeding in kicking the blanket off along with his pants, Marlo giggling as she watched him collapse back against the pillows snoring quietly as she pushed his wet hair off his forehead, bending over him and pressing a soft kiss to his clammy brow, his eyelids fluttering open at the sensation.

“Sleep well, Sunshine?” She asked, her fingers drawing circles along his tanned, bare skin.

“How long was I out?” He blinked sleepily.

“A couple hours. Feeling better?”

“Much…but...where are my clothes?”

She pointed at the floor, laughing as Harry took stock of the intimate position, his briefs the only thing he was still wearing, his body wrapped around hers--Marlo herself wearing a sports bra and a pair of ridiculously short shorts, the blanket bunched up at the foot of the bed; his cheeks were suddenly on fire. She smoothed his hair out of his face, her touch lingering as she gently touched his face, checking him over carefully as he nuzzled her hand with his cheek. Thankfully, his fever had broken during his nap, the last vestige of the cold he’d contracted--so much advanced technology and yet still brought down by a virus. It was almost laughable. After disentangling herself from Harry, despite his grumbles of protest, Marlo slid from her bed and stretched, arching her back, her stomach begging for nourishment; she’d been so concerned with Harry, food for herself had been the last thing on her mind.

He caught her by the hand, eyes pleading with her to stay with him.

“I’ll be right back; just peckish.”

In the maybe ten minutes she was in the mess grabbing a muffin, Harry had put his glasses back on and discovered the damage he’d done to his reports, Marlo returning and watching him from the doorway--the horrified expression on his face was priceless. Though he could probably use a distraction from his paperwork and editing. She knew she always could. He sighed and ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, eyes darting between the four datapads on his lap, deciding where it was best to begin. She finished her muffin, wiping her hands on her pants, and pushed off the doorframe with her foot; the sound drew his attention and his eyes met hers, the smoldering promise in them making him shove the reports off his lap and onto the floor. Now that he was feeling alot better, there were so many other ways to spend his time. The edge of the mattress dipped below her weight as she crawled up the bed, hands on either side of his legs and subsequently, his naked hips, laughter in her eyes as she dropped a gentle kiss on his lips. She didn't even notice his glasses.

“Since when do you wear glasses?”

“The last couple years...they’re good for close up work, for sure; too much late night reading in med school took its toll.” He reached up to his temple starting to pull them off, but her hand on his stopped him.

“Mmmm. Keep ‘em on.” Her lips brushed his quickly. “They make you look even more dashing.”

“I didn't realize you had a glasses kink.” Harry teased.

“Neither did I...maybe it’s just on you. I may have some close up work for you.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her, Marlo settling herself in his lap--at this point she didn't even care if she got sick; she just wanted him. Harry wondered for a moment if he was being selfished, having monopolized so much of her time already while he was sick, but the seductive roll of her hips chased the thought to the back of his mind. They were allowed a little indulgence. Afterall, Andromeda had already been without its human Pathfinder for a week...what was one more night? He reached up and tucked a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear, before brushing her cheek gently with his thumb; she leaned into his caress and kissed his palm. His lips met hers as his hands slipped between them, gliding up her stomach and up under the sports bra, nipples pebbling under his caress as he exposed them to the air. She stretched her arms over her head, reluctantly breaking the kiss so he could tug the offending garment off over her head, lips crashing back together as she rolled her hips into his.

Harry groaned.

His fingers wound themselves in her hair, a delighted shiver skittering along her body as she softened in his arms, capitulating. She grinned wickedly down at him as she hooked her hands in the waistband of his briefs, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to lift his hips to help without dislodging her from her perch; they fell sideways together, laughing at the epic failure, twisted together in the sheets. It was something she loved about their relationship--he always seemed to be able to make her laugh and if they couldn't enjoy themselves during sex, what were they even doing? It didn't take long for them to recover, Marlo removing his briefs and her shorts, throwing her leg over his and straddling him. He leaned forward crushing himself against her making her sigh against his lips as she melted, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Opening his mouth against hers and letting their tongues intertwine, tasting her as she pressed herself harder against him, rolling her hips teasingly—she was intoxicating and the need in his gut was almost overwhelming. She licked the outer shell of his ear, nibbling affectionately as she rubbed her cheek against his, arms draped about his neck.

“I thought you had some up close work for me...a more thorough examination, if you will.” Harry teased, rolling them over so her body was eclipsed by his, rubbing his stubble against the sensitive underside of her breast.

Marlo snorted with laughter and winked at him, never having thought there'd come a day when he used one of her doctor puns. “By all means, Doctor Carlyle; examine away.”

His lips covered one hardened nipple, her hips shooting off the mattress, back arching, as he did the same to the other before her began to kiss a burning trail down her stomach. The tip of his tongue flicked into her belly button as he passed, causing her to giggle. His fingers traced little patterns on her hips as he spread her thighs wider and draped her legs over his shoulders, slipping his hands up underneath her, massaging her ass. He lifted her hips to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on her clit before he drew his tongue through the moisture pooled at her entrance. She gasped, hands fisting in the sheets as her hips sought his retreating mouth, toes curling in delight; something about that sound, broken and pleading, made him feel powerful. The tip of his tongue passed over her folds before plunging as deep inside as he could, stubble rubbing her folds raw as he stroked her with his tongue, the sensations making her relax, legs falling open wider.

“Fuck…” Marlo breathed, the word a long, drawn out plea.

Harry grinned.

His warm, velvet tongue, licked her with long, languid strokes, savoring her taste, her scent as her skin prickled with energy, blue flames beginning to dance across her body, sparks licking his skin, her ecstasy climbing higher. Sometimes it amazes her how good he was with his tongue; smoking good. Determined to make her come apart with nothing but his mouth, his tongue swiped across her swollen clit roughly, before he circled it fast and hard, spreading her wetness around it. When his lips closed over the little nub, she climaxed, the room turning blue in her biotic flare. He grinned at her as he wiped her juices from his mouth with the back of his hand. Hard to believe he'd even been sick, making up for the all the time he couldn't touch her like this with gusto.

The room spun as he sat up too fast, concern etched all over her face as she watched him--it was too much too soon while he was recovering. She wrapped her legs around his, and braced her feet against the mattress, flipping them over so she was on top, taking control back so he didn't overexert himself. He drew a finger down her jaw, making Marlo sigh contentedly as her pulse fluttered under his touch, drowning in the pleasure Harry’s caress brought. Every inch of her body was pressed up against his, begging for his caress and so much more. His swollen shaft curved upwards towards his stomach, already a little wet and sticky because of his current state of arousal. She traced a finger from crown to base, her hand gentle as she gripped his cock, positioning it at her slick entrance, sliding the tip up and down her folds before easing herself down onto him. Her hands pressed against the hard muscles of his chest, his hands wandering up and down her arms as she pulled her hips backwards, watching him slide out of her, coated in her own arousal, then sinking down taking him deeper, her walls closing tightly around his shaft, breasts bouncing as she rode him.

“Love, I'm not sure how long I can last.” He panted, gripping her hips and slamming them down to his.

She grinned down at him, sliding her hands into his and interlacing their fingers together as she held them against the mattress. “Then let go, Harry. Unravel for me.”

The words were barely out of her mouth, a shudder racking his frame as her soft lips kissed his shoulder, his body tensing underneath her as he found his release, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.

“Damn. You should definitely wear glasses more often.” She giggled, rolling off him, flopping down on the mattress next to him, her head next to his shoulder and their hands still linked between them. “I can't believe how sexy you are in them; does things to me, apparently.”

Harry chuckled, releasing her hand to prop himself up on one elbow and tuck a lock of dark brown hair behind her ear. “I'm sure I could be persuaded. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You're an awful patient, by the way. All the self diagnosis, and care instructions were driving me insane.” Marlo caught his hand and kissed his fingers, before pulling the blankets up as Harry snuggled into her, wrapping himself around her. “But I'm glad you're okay...and now you need to rest.”

[sparrowmoth]

I’m back in case nobody ever asked about your boy, so…. Carlos de Vil for the ask meme :)

@hoodpane Aww, thank you, sweetheart, I appreciate that! 🥰♥️♥️

1. Sexuality Headcanon

I headcanon (and write) him variously as gay OR bisexual since I can see it either way with him, for reasons akin to my thoughts on Evie in this post. Sometimes, I headcanon him as aspec, too, and that's been at the back of my mind with certain fics, but I haven't yet decided if I feel strongly about him fitting a particular label or if I'm just trying to figure out things for myself by projecting different labels at him idk.

Anyway, related (gender) headcanon that I can never shut up about: whatever sexuality I'm writing him as, he's always he/they nonbinary in my mind, my writing, my memes, just everything jdkaljgklsg. <3

2. OTP

Jaylos, my beloved! For me, there's no universe in which these two don't end up together, which is why they come out on top as my OTP, deeply fond as I am of the Rotten OT4 ship. Marlos and Carvie can be romantic or platonic, it's fine either way, but if Jaylos isn't happening, I probably won't bother. I just don't enjoy reading them in other ships.

3. BROTP

I think Jane and Carlos are really cute as friends. It makes me really happy to think about Jay and Carlos going on double dates with Jane and Lonnie (who are in lesbians together, change my mind you can't).

I'm also here for Chad being the bestie Carlos literally never wanted. Their dynamic is just so fucking funny. It makes no sense! Compels me though. And Mal, Jay, and Evie absolutely tease Carlos about it.

4. NOTP

No hate, but I'm not here for Benlos. I think it's cute that Ben clearly has a crush on Carlos, but I mean, it's Ben. Show me a VK he doesn't have a crush on lmao. I don't know, this ship just leaves me bored, so I'll usually take a hard pass on anything that features them together.

Less common nopes I've encountered: Gilos and Chadlos. Just nope.

5. First headcanon that pops into my head

In telling Carlos all those horrifying (and untrue) tales of dogs being vicious, rabid pack animals as he was growing up, Cruella liked to up the drama by growling, baring her teeth, even biting him sometimes.

This instilled such terror in Carlos that he thought to weaponize it, so, for years, he'd growl at his bullies and try to bite and claw instead of punching and kicking. The other kids found this strange at best and hilarious at worst—none more so than Harry Hook in the latter case.

Oh, he never let Carlos live that down, even long after he'd realized it wasn't having the desired effect. Harry would bark and growl at him in the street, laughing gleefully when he managed to startle Carlos.

Meanwhile, with Jay, Mal, and Evie, the nickname "pup" emerged as a soft, teasing reminder of the first impression he'd made on them as kids. Much to his exasperation, he's simply stuck with the nickname.

6. One way in which I relate to this character

Look at him, he's got anxiety. No, but seriously, that's definitely a big thing for me. The way his anxiety makes people underestimate him, both in canon and fanon, because it's easy to see just a scared little boy where, in fact, there are so many sharp edges, so much steel in him that's helped him survive.

I relate to that a lot, because IRL I find most people make the mistake of assuming anxiety is my personality ("omg you're so shy uwu," "you should talk more," "smile for me"), and well, they're wrong, but I didn't always realize that. I see something similar with Carlos on the Isle, in that he grows up being told that he's weak for so long, he internalizes that as a truth about himself when, in actuality, if he was weak? He'd have never survived. Not the Isle, not his mother, not his entire life.

7. Thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

chocolate-all-over-his-face.jpg jkdlajlkgsjlkg

Like, it warms my heart how excited he is about chocolate, but also I kind of want to be a mom for just TWO SECONDS and wipe his face before he gets out of the limo looking a mess like that jdkasljkgdlsjk

8. Cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

You know, he can be a cinnamon roll, but it would be a mistake to see that as the extent of his character. I'd say more than half the time it's just an act to get what he wants, which is valid of him. Jay and Evie flirt, Mal intimidates, and Carlos? He gives the puppy eyes so you don't notice the knife slip out from his sleeve before it's too late.

One of my favourite things about him is that he could have gone the route of problematic fave. He's capable of it. He just... chooses to be better than that, like in this scene from Return to the Isle of the Lost (Book 2), which is one of my favourite scenes in the whole franchise:

Cruella cackled with glee. “Go ahead, then, use it on me. Destroy me. With that ring you can obliterate me forever. Tell me to throw myself off this roof and I’ll do it. Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what you have always wanted?”

Carlos felt the ring throb in his hands. He could destroy his mother, rid the world of another villain, and stop having nightmares once and for all.

“Do it!” Cruella cackled. “Do it, boy!”

He raised his hand, pointing the ring right at her. Then he dropped his arm down with a sigh. “No, I can’t. I’m better than that,” Carlos said, turning on his heel and heading for the elevator. I’m better than you, Mother. No matter what you’ve always told me.

That's my baby and I'm proud.

Character Headcanons

[lindoig7]

Wednesday-Saturday, 4-7 November

Wednesday

We spent the day in Orbost after our frustrating day yesterday.  I wrote and sent complaints to both Parks Victoria and Emergency Victoria – not that I imagine it will make a scrap of difference (and neither agency evendeigned to acknowledge my correspondence), but at least I got some of the angst off my chest and down on paper (actually, not paper, just in digital form).  We both spent time writing emails and blogs and reviewing our photos as well as monitoring the US Election results.  I will hold my tongue on that subject in case I ever need to apply for another US entry visa or similar travel document.

We walked to the shops and supermarket again and I purchased some envelopes so I could post the Service Booklet back to Toyota. I also took another big bag of recycling to the Information Centre’s bin.  It was quite a warm day in the mid-20s but it dropped more than 10 degrees during the late afternoon and it was raining before dark.  It rained right through the night until about 5am but it wasn’t the rain that kept us awake.  We had 3 young guys in the cabin next to our van and they were a rowdy bunch.  I think they got on the turps early in the evening and there was a lot laughing and loud conversation until about 12.15am. They seemed to be enjoying themselves but there was a bit of rough-housing going on and furniture was knocked over and repositioned around the cabin over and over again until they called it a night a bit after midnight.  I asked the manager if they had booked for any additional nights and she said no (Yay!!) – but I was apparently at least the third person who had complained to her by about 8.30 this morning.  The guy in the van next to us was very annoyed.  He said it was 1am before he got to sleep and reckoned it must have been so much worse for us.  And apparently, the manager copped complaints from at least one couple in a van about 30-40 metres away!

Thursday

We slept in a little following our late night but the weather was reasonably good after breakfast so we went for a 5 km walk south along the eastern edge of the Snowy River – just to see how far the track went. It was quite a pleasant walk between the river and the road, despite the cars speeding past a few metres away on the other side of the trees.  It was quite heavily wooded on both sides of the path and a really enjoyable stroll with plenty of things to look at.  By the time we got back, it had started to rain a little, just some gentle drizzle, so we spent the rest of the day in the van.  The rain came and went several times during the day but it felt lovely and warm and cosy inside our little house.

Friday

We had quite a few things to do around the van in the morning: washing, cooking, cleaning, etc., and then we walked to the shops for a couple of things – and took the long way home to add a little to our kilometre target.

We were cooking a casserole in the DreamPot and needed to be home about 4pm so Heather cut sangers for lunch and we headed off to Marlo to do an estuary/coast walk there.  It was along the northern edge of the Snowy River as it swung past Marlo and looped back into the sea a couple of kilometres further along.  The track was a bit vague and at one stage had us back on the main road with no signage anywhere.  We decided to just walk along the very narrow beach until we felt we had done enough and turned around to retrace our steps back to the car.  We ended up walking about 5 km or so but with the tide coming in and competing with the river running out, we had to wade for part of the final stages, clambering over fallen logs and broken branches.  It was a bit of a slog, walking in the soft sand and tackling the scrub, but it was fun for all that.

There was a sandbar 100 metres or so from shore with a few seabirds on it, but as the tide rose, they came to shore and we had several encounters with a White-necked Heron and a pair of Pied Oystercatchers.   When we got close to them, they flew ahead of us and landed a bit further along, only to find us approaching them again.  This happened several times and we enjoyed their inadvertent company even if we frustrated them.  All in all, it was a magic day again – we seem to be having a lot of those very special days and experiences.

We got home in time to rescue our casserole and catch up with some of the latest counting from the US election.

Saturday

Saturday started with something of a celebration. It was the anniversary of my open-heart surgery and I am pleased to note that I am still alive.  More than that, I am thriving and simply itching to enjoy another 20 years of adventures.  we are both in awe of what medical science (and clinical practitioners) can achieve these days and after enjoying 38 years of good and productive life following my rudimentary Balloon Angioplasty in the early 80s, I am sure that the new procedure will set me up for at least twice that long.

Breakfast was a bit of a fry-up plus baked beans – a hot brekky to kick off the momentous day.  We really didn’t do all that much during the day.  I went out after lunch and did a couple more bird surveys, but it was mainly just mooching around the van and doing the usual things with writing, photos, email and family phone calls occupying most of the day.

I was anxious to maintain my cholesterol levels so we indulged in fish and chips for dinner again.  At least we walked some of it off because we walked up to the shop and back again.

[thelastspeecher]

NaNoWriMo ‘17 Day 23 - Don’t Get Short with Your Brother

Day 01   Day 02   Day 03   Day 04   Day 05   Day 06   Day 07   Day 08 Day 09   Day 10   Day 11   Day 12   Day 13   Day 14   Day 15   Day 16 Day 17   Day 18   Day 19   Day 20   Day 21   Day 22   Day 23   Day 24  Day 25   Day 26   Day 27   Day 28   Day 29   Day 30

Summary: Ford arrives at Stan’s house for another extended visit, but with a key difference.  Inspired by this and this.  [Stay-at-Home Stan AU] Word count: 1564

               Angie answered the door.  She looked around for a moment, confused.

               “Excuse me,” a high-pitched voice said.  Angie looked down.  A young boy, about the same age as her daughters, was standing on the doorstep. Angie smiled at him and crouched down to his eye-height.

               “Howdy there,” she said gently.  The boy shuffled his feet nervously.  “Aw, are ya lost?”

               The only neighbors what have boys are the Thompsons and the Millers.  And their children aren’t this age.  

               “No,” the boy said firmly.  Angie frowned at him.  He was wearing an oversized trenchcoat over his clothes.

               Was he playin’ dress-up with someone? The boy reached a hand up to adjust his glasses, which were similarly oversized and threatening to slide down his face.  Angie’s eyes widened.  Twelve fingers?  Now that she had picked up on the most glaring feature, she could see other Pines characteristics; the wild curls, the ruddy nose, and the tendency to give off an air of grumpiness.

               “…Stanford?” she whispered.  The boy nodded.  “Oh, Lord.”

               “There was an accident,” Ford mumbled.  “My current biological age is merely temporary, but Fiddleford thought it would be best if I stayed with you and Stan until I recover.”

               “But neither of ya thought to let us know.”  Ford adjusted his glasses again, but didn’t respond.  “How did ya even get here?”

               “I took the bus.”

               “You took the- Gravity Falls is over twelve hours away!”

               “I’m well aware of that.”

               “No one on the bus questioned a small child traveling without an adult?” Angie asked.  Ford shook his head.  “Goodness. What is the world comin’ to?”

               “Would you please let me in?  I walked for about an hour until I found your house,” Ford said.  Angie stood to her proper height.

               “Come on in, hon,” she said, placing a gentle hand on Ford’s back and guiding him inside.  She closed the door.  Ford scowled at her.

               “I’m older than you.  Do not call me ‘hon’.”

               “Instinct.  Sorry.”

               “Who was at the door?” Stan called from the kitchen, where he was doing the dishes.  

               “Yer brother.  Sounds like Stanford is goin’ to spend some time with us.  Again.”

               “Really?  Geez, Sixer, what’d ya do to get Fiddleford to kick ya out?” Stan asked, looking into the living room.  His jaw dropped at the sight of Ford.  “Hot Belgian waffles, Poindexter, what happened?”

               “There was an accident during an experiment,” Ford said.  “And…hot Belgian waffles?”

               “I’m tryin’ out fake swears,” Stan explained.  He dried his hands on a gingham dish towel.  “Must’ve been one heck of an accident.”

               “It could have been much worse.  As it is, this is temporary, and Fiddleford will be able to determine the approximate date it will wear off.”

               “You’re the same age as the girls,” Stan said.  He grinned.  “There’s an idea.”  Ford took a nervous step backward, discomforted by his twin’s vicious smile. His diminutive feet trod on Angie’s toes.  She instinctively placed a reassuring hand on the top of Ford’s head.

               “What’s an idea?” Angie asked, stroking Ford’s curls.

               “The girls don’t really have any friends yet.  But they love their Uncle Ford.  And now that he’s their age…”

               “Yer suggestin’ Ford play with the girls while this situation works itself out?”

               “Yep.”

               “Look, I love Danny and Daisy,” Ford said, adjusting his glasses yet again. “But spending time with them while this age might give them the wrong idea.  I’m their uncle, not their playmate.”

               “Oh, please,” Angie said.  “You play with ‘em all the time.”

               “This is different,” Ford insisted.

               “Yeah, it is,” Stan said.  “But think about it.  This ‘ll give ya a chance to bond with ‘em even more.  And it’s not like they’re toddlers anymore.  They’re five.”

               “Stan was right about them not havin’ many friends,” Angie said in a low voice.  “Once they start school, hopefully that ‘ll change.  But right now, their main social interactions are with their parents. Socializin’ with someone their age will be good fer ‘em.”  Ford sighed.

               “Very well.  I get the point.”  He shoved Angie’s hand away from him.  “But stop petting me!  I don’t want to be treated like a child while I stay here, understand?”

               “We’ll do our best,” Angie said.  “But we reserve the right to restrict certain activities fer yer own safety.”

               “I don’t agree to that.”

               “If yer stayin’ under my roof, ya do,” Angie said firmly, putting her hands on her hips and staring Ford down with a steely gaze.  Ford swallowed nervously.  

               “Y- yes, ma’am,” he stammered.  Angie’s punishing demeanor evaporated.  She threw her head back with a laugh.

               “Lord, that ‘angry mom’ face works wonders!” she cackled.  Ford scowled.  “Aw, don’t get all scrunchy-faced,” Angie cooed, pinching his cheek.  Ford slapped her hand away.  “Why don’t ya go see yer lil nieces while Stan and I discuss how we’ll adjust things while ya stay.”

----- 

               Danny and Daisy walked into the kitchen, Daisy idly dragging her stuffed animal frog, Marlo, on the ground.  The two girls cocked their heads curiously at what they saw.

               “Daddy, why is Uncle Ford in the time-out chair?” Danny asked.  Ford was indeed strapped into an old high-chair that Stan and Angie had repurposed for the use of time-outs.  Judging by his reddened face and shouting, Ford was not pleased with the situation one bit.  Stan turned from his de-aged twin brother and looked knowingly at his daughters.

               “‘Cause he’s in time-out,” Stan replied.  

               “Why?” Daisy asked.  

               “Is it ‘cause he’s getting scrunchy-faced?” Danny suggested.  Ford paused his shouts of protest for a moment.

               “Why is that something your family says?” Ford asked Stan.  Stan shrugged.

               “It’s a McGucket thing.  Now, are ya calmed down enough to get down?”

               “I don’t need to be calm to get down, I am a grown man!” Ford shouted.  “Stanley, let me down this instant!”

               “Girls, go play in your room for a bit, okay?” Stan said.  “Your Uncle Ford will join ya after he’s in a better mood.”

               “Okay!” Daisy chirped.  She wandered off.  Danny waved at Stan and Ford before following her twin.  Stan turned back to Ford.

               “Ford, you’re not gettin’ down until you relax.”

               “I’m not a child,” Ford snarled.  “Don’t treat me like one!”  

               “I’ll stop treating you like one when ya stop actin’ like one!” Stan snapped. “You threw a temper tantrum just ‘cause ya couldn’t find your Scientific American issue.”

               “Can you blame me for getting upset?  There’s not much around here to stimulate my intellect!”

               “What a loada bull.  We’ve got all sortsa science stuff around here.  Heck, your own sister-in-law has a doctorate!”

               “Yeah, in herpetology,” Ford scoffed. Stan’s expression grew thunderous. Ford swallowed.  “…I’d like to retract what I just said.”

               “Smart move.”  

               “Maybe I have been acting childish,” Ford said after a moment. Stan nodded.  “I just- I don’t know why.  I’ve been keeping my regular hours, and yet I’m tremendously exhausted. I keep feeling overwhelmed by things and- and overreacting and-”

               “Your brain might be thirty, but your body isn’t,” Stan interrupted.  Ford blinked.  “Sixer, you kept it at bay for a good amount of time, but you’ve gotta admit it.  Until this thing wears off, you’re gonna need to have a schedule like the girls’.”

               “Stanley!”

               “Hey, I’m not happy about it either.  Despite what ya might believe, treating my own twin like I treat my daughters isn’t my idea of a good time.”  Stan sighed. “But it’s what’s best for your health.”

               “I don’t want to be treated like a child,” Ford mumbled.

               “I know.  And Angie and I will do our best to keep the schedule and everything from damaging your dignity as much as possible.  But Ford, ya need naps.  Ya need to go to bed before nine.  Ya need to have meals at a regular time.  Ya need a schedule.”

               “…Fine.”  A moment passed.  “Now will you let me down?”

               “Oh, right.”  Stan took Ford out of the high-chair and set him on the ground.  He ruffled his de-aged twin’s hair.  “Remember when ya first dropped by?”

               “Three days ago.  It feels like so much longer.”

               “The naps ‘ll help with that.  Sleeping makes time move faster.  But anyways, Angie said we reserved the right to restrict activities. This is one of those times.”

               “I just assumed it meant not allowing me to consume alcohol or coffee, or refusing to let me behind the wheel,” Ford said.

               “Those, too,” Stan said.  He walked over to the sink and ran a washcloth under cold water for a moment, then walked back to Ford.  Ford blinked at him curiously.  “For your face,” Stan explained.  He crouched down and began to carefully rub Ford’s cheeks.  Ford opened his mouth to protest, but changed his mind with a tired sigh.

               “Why are you wiping my face?” Ford asked quietly.  

               “Gotta get the tear tracks washed away and you cooled off a bit. Not to mention, pitchin’ a fit like you just did uses a lotta energy.  You’re tired now, aren’t ya?” Stan asked.  Ford nodded.  “This’ll wake ya up for just long enough that you can get in some PJs.”

               “PJs?”

               “It’s naptime, Ford.”  Stan tossed the washcloth onto the table.  It landed with a damp splat.  He put a guiding hand on Ford’s shoulder.  “Come on, I’ll tuck ya in.”

               “Only if you promise to read me a story.”

               “Wait, really?”

               “Pfft, no.”

[sinfulavenue]

Episode 41- Trust, Review

Here we go again!

Episode 41.

I have to say I really, really liked this episode! I thought it had a perfect balance of action and dialogue.

Also (whether it was intentional or not) this episode was pretty darn funny! Honestly Levi’s sass,

That epic Springlestein charge!

and Flegel sitting on a guy’s fucking head had me in stiches! 😂😂

I have to say that every week I’m gaining more confidence in how Wit studio are doing this series. However (and I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record saying this every week but) I feel I need to see the entire arc animated before I’m satisfied. Like I neeeed to know the punch/smile scene at the end is there before I can rest in peace!

But that aside I really did enjoy this episode. This is probably gonna be a very boring review because it’s just going to be me saying how I loved everything.

But if you enjoy my shitty commentary do read on ... bad jokes guaranteed.

Ambush Scene

So yeah I loved this! Especially thug life Armin 😎.

The scene went down more or less exactly how it did in the manga. In fact this whole episode didn’t stray too far from the manga material, following the events of chapters 59 and 60 pretty closely. This makes me wonder if most of the huge changes are behind us and the anime will follow the manga storyline a lot more closely from now on.

Anyway, there I go again, rambling .... So we got to see Hitch and Marlo’s reaction to Annie being the female titan and I loved the scene where Jean tested them. I actually laughed hard because Jean is just too funny when he’s acting like a stabby psycho, plus I knew Hitch and Marlo weren’t in any real danger.

Also who knew Marlo was such a Levi fanboy.

Although I think bartender-kun still wins by a mile in the fanboy category 🤣

Hanji and Flegel vs. The MPs

Hanji was just incredible from start to finish in this episode!

I loved this scene not only because of Hanji and Moblit kicking ass but for Flegel’s character arc. So we got that scene where Hanji talks to him on the rooftop and urges him to stop running from his problems and help the Survey Corps; not only for their sake but for his. Hanji’s words obviously had an impact on him because in the end he chose to stop hiding. He stood up to the people who murdered his father and exposed them in front of multiple witnesses. It was very satisfying to see and I was so proud of him when he promised to look after the people like his father did.

Well done Flegel!

Meanwhile ...

Squad Levi ambush a camp of Interior Police and take some guy into the woods for interrogation ... and by “interrogation” I mean for some serious deepthroating involving a foot!

I am sorry!! 😭 I am so so sorry! 😭

“What an atrocious thing we’ve done.”

God Levi was so damn hot brutal in this scene. Zero fucks were given! Is it just me or has little Heichou had a serious sass glow up this season? Because he is one sarcastic bastard and I love it! Ooft every word that comes out of his mouth is just dripping with sweet sweet apathy! 🤤

.....

*ahem* Ok being serious again. So the name ‘Kenny Ackerman’ was revealed. I guess this is why we haven’t heard anyone say Kenny’s full name until now. They must have been saving it to reveal at this moment. I’m sure by this point in the manga we’d already heard Traute refer to Kenny as ‘Captain Ackerman’ so his surname was already known to the readers by this point. I guess doing it this way gave it a little more impact as in the anime it is revealed to us at the same time as it is revealed to Levi and his squad. I loved Mikasa’s little gasp when the name “Ackerman” was said. I imagine Levi will have a lot of questions for her next episode.

I can’t wait!

Erwin and Nile

I really appreciated this scene because it was a real meaningful moment between these two old friends and we got to see Erwin at his most vulnerable. I feel like we were seeing the real Erwin and the real Nile stripped of their military commander positions and it seems like despite not always seeing eye to eye they still do care about one another. Erwin showed that he had feelings of remorse over the attack on Stohess which showed when he asked Nile if his house was in Stohess. In season 1 Nile came across as a bit of a villain, I mean he was the guy that literally wanted to cut Eren up but scenes like this really show that Nile Dok isn’t a bad guy at all, just a humble soldier and family man, doing what he thinks is best. Oh my God and they actually mentioned Marie! I’m a little sad that there was never any mention of how Erwin was once in love with her too but chose titans instead. Regardless this was a touching scene.

Hopes for next episode

I have to say for some reason at the end of this episode I was left with a real sense of excitement and anticipation. I guess maybe it was how the episode ended with Erwin on the verge of execution but also I think that after a few weeks of uncertainty about the restructuring, I’m finally starting to relax and just enjoy the series.

So if they are sticking more closely to the manga from now on I imagine next episode we will see parts of chapters 61 and 62 animated. If so I really hope they keep the part where Levi apologises to Hanji for the death of her squad. After seeing so many episodes of Levi being very harsh and brutal it would be nice for them to show his human side by having him express the guilt he’s been carrying over what happened. Also it would be good to see Nifa, Goggles and Keiji’s deaths being given a little more acknowledgment than they’ve had so far.

OH! I’ve just remembered something else exciting, the dub also premiers in a few days. Eeek!! I’m looking forward to watching that too as sometimes it’s good just to hear it in your own language. Also I like to compare the two!

.....

Eh who am I kidding, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’m just looking for an excuse to watch Kenny’s BANG BANG entrance again!

3 weeks later I’m still laughing my ass off!

[tenderjock]

Tagged by @iridescentoracle​

1. Nickname: marlo!!

2. Zodiac sign: aq

3. Height: 5′7.5′‘

4. Hogwarts house: prob hufflepuff but an argument could be made for slytherin

5. Last thing I googled: “[town i’m living in] post office”

6. Favorite musicians: ive been on a classic rock and punk kick lately??? so this is in no way an exhaustive list, but, the stones, the doors, iggy pop, lou reed, janis joplin, the who, the clash

7. Song stuck in my head: people are strange by the doors

8. Following now: 142

9. Followers: 396

10. Do I get asks: nope, not really. i dont mind tbh

11. Amount of sleep: i usually get about 7 hrs per night but expecting that to go up, at least a little, once finals are over. funny story: before i was on the current cocktail of meds that i am now on, i would sleep about 2-3 hrs per night for several days running until i inevitably crashed and slept for ~12 hrs. my meds now require me to get about 6-8 hrs of sleep each night if i want to function like a human being.

12. Lucky number: 7

13. What I’m wearing: gray leggings, a tshirt with my uni name on it, sparkly scrunchie and nike sneakers

14. Dream job: journalist/photo-journalist

15. Dream trip: oooooooh there are so many. i would love to go to southeast asia tbh; also, my mom and i are planning a trip to stay with friends in france once i graduate. chile’s a beautiful country and i would love to go back someday. i might be able to travel to morocco with one of my profs next summer, as well. anywhere tbh!!! i love traveling.

16. Favorite food: tentatively gonna say pizza, with mushrooms, artichoke hearts, and eggplant

17. Instruments: i used to play flute

18. Languages: my spanish is p good, and i know a little bit of modern standard arabic. i know “thank you” and “please” in a bunch of languages, including mandarin and asl, because that is always something good to have up your sleeve. i know a bunch of food words, too, in italian and french.

19. Favorite song: this guy is pretty high up there

20. Random fact: ive been teaching myself how to knit!! its coming along p well, i think.

21. Aesthetic: “tenderjock” is quite literally my aesthetic 

[yasbxxgie]

DX: Alright. Now, the one record I really had a hard time deciphering was “Until It All Goes.” My own personal take was that when you say, “Hovering above all that you was glad to become” means your character dies, and then the line, “I was providing the urge to use it how you see it” means the person was using a gun. Am I far off on that?

Skyzoo: “I was providing the urge to use it how you see it.” You thought the person was using a gun?

DX: I thought it was a gun, but then I also thought it could have been drugs. So it was either or, I didn’t know for sure.

Skyzoo: Nah, I mean that record was about appreciation, or sometimes the lack thereof. I was kind of just saying give somebody roses when they’re alive to smell it. The record was along those lines. Being appreciated, or being under-appreciated as an artist, as an emcee, as a lyricist, whatever it is that people want to call me. And when I say, “I was providing the urge to use it how you see it / Blame it on the hindsight, knew it then you keep it,” you blame the fact that you don’t get it now, or you didn’t get it before in hindsight. You look at it like, “Aww man, if I would have knew back then what I know now.” I look at it like that with the music because a lot of people say, “Damn man I didn’t get it before but I get it now. It took me a while but I figured it out.” So, if you knew what it was then, you would have saw it as opposed to not seeing it for what it was and then having to look back in hindsight. That’s pretty much what the record’s about. It’s about appreciation and the lack thereof at times.

Like in the second verse I say, “Hovering above all that you was glad to become / Covering the snubs given, the few and far between / Nothing’s unnoticed but true to all we be.” It’s like, I feel like I do get a lot of love and a lot of appreciation but sometimes I do feel snubbed every once and a while. And to the people, whether it’s a website or magazine, don’t think that I didn’t see it. Don’t think that I didn’t notice it, don’t think that I didn’t hear about not being on this list or being on that list. When you know, in your heart of hearts, that I deserve to be on all of those lists, don’t think that I didn’t recognize that. But being the type of person that I am and the character that I have, I may not go on Twitter and black out on a website or magazine because I’m bigger and better than that. But please believe that situation is gonna get rectified sooner or later.

DX: I’m not gonna lie man, you got to put out like a supplementary audiobook where you’re just describing every record because I swear it would help all your listeners. [Laughs]

Skyzoo: You know, everybody says that. Everybody wants me to write a Decoded. They’re like, “Yo, you got to do a book where you break down The Salvation, you break down The Great Debater, Live From The Tape Deck .” And it something’s I’m definitely gonna do, I just feel like it’s something I’ll do later on when I think more people will be able to grab hold of it and more people will be in the know of who I am and what I do.

DX: One aspect of your lyricism that I’ve kind of caught onto is your references to The Wire. From Prop Joe to Bodie to that tactful sound bite you had on The Salvation, you keep it seamless and you keep it relevant. How has that show been an influence on your lyrical conception?

Skyzoo: The Wire to me is everything man. People ask me what do I like to do outside of music; The Wire and the NBA. I’m such a Wire fan, it’s ridiculous. I went to a Wire event when it was the final season. It was the last season of the show so it was like early 2007 and they had a big HBO party, VIP-only and it was literally the entire staff and cast and crew and I went. I’m real cool with Tristan Wilds, who played Michael on the show, I’m real cool with Julito McCullum who played Namond on the show. So I know a lot of the characters from there, Marlo and all those guys, so I was able to go. I was like a kid in the candy store. I wasn’t even Skyzoo, I was Skyler. When I met David Simon, I mean that was it. I felt like I met…It was just nuts, I can’t even describe it. Just meeting David Simon, taking a flick with him and just being like, “Yo, you have no idea what your writing means to me.” They’ll never be anything like it. I’m actually writing a show of my own, nothing like The Wire at all but I’m writing a show of my own that I’m planning to pitch soon. I get inspired by his writing and the degree of what it is. It’s just so amazing.

To get back to the question, I can relate to The Wire so much because I understand every single thing that they’re talking about in the show, like I relate to all of it. And if you listen to my music like “Necessary Evils” or “Shooter’s Soundtrack” or “Metal Hearts,” and then listen to Live From The Tape Deck with “Kitchen Table” or go to The Great Debater, there’s just so many records I’ve done in my career that you know the stuff that I’m talking about. It may be lyrical, it may be intelligent at times, but it’s about the same things that a lot of people connect to when it’s talked about. You know, I read on a YouTube comment one time where someone said, “Skyzoo is like Mos Def and The L.O.X. in one.” And I thought that was one of the best descriptions of what I do. I kick the same street stuff that The L.O.X. or Cam’ron or Young Jeezy kicks, I just do it in a really intelligent, wordy way, so it comes across differently. And the beats are different from what they would use. I felt that was really accurate, and I never looked at it like that until I read that. What I talk about is the same stuff Jeezy talked about on Thug Motivation 101, I just say it a little differently.

DX: The coincidence about The Wire is that I just started watching it for the third time a couple weeks ago and I just finished up season four, so it was really relevant when I was put to task to do this interview. And my personal favorite line from The Great Debater is when you say, “I’m more of the Stringer role / My part is to sling it low / From beyond beyond / Just keep me off the ringer yo.” When you said that line, I went crazy [Laughs].

Skyzoo: [Laughs] I appreciate it man. Yeah, with me I feel like I do what I do. It may be a little more laid back in the cut. I give them the music, I give them the lyricism, and there it is. It’s not a lot of bells and whistles, I’m not gonna go on Twitter and go on a rant. I’m not gonna go to the media and flip out over this, that and the third. I’m not gonna start a beef, nothing like that. I just think all that stuff is stupid. I’m cut from a different cloth where if you have problems or issues with people, you handle it directly and that’s it.