#I'm saying fecundate from now on

[supersumc]

Just about everyone: FUCK

I, an intellectual: FECUNDATE

[hush-writes-preg]

Sometimes I just imagine laying in bed, completely naked and desperate for the person who made me so swollen, so vulnerable. It wasn't planned, but when things heated up I was begging them to breed me, to make me full. Empty words at the time but they listened well, my partner, and here I am, eight months later, cumbersome form filled to its limits, four rambunctious babies packed into my stretchmarked belly. Above it sit my bloated, leaking tits that I'm begging my partner to relieve. This is my life, a broodmare destined to be swollen and groaning waiting for my partner to fuck out the kids they planted in me.

You say that you never really planned this, but you'd been the one wrapping your legs around my waist and begging to be bred that night.  We both knew it wasn't a safe time in your cycle, but you just couldn't help yourself.

Now look at you-- massively swollen and packed full of babies.  That desperate, lust-fueled begging resulted in four new lives sparking in your belly while your tits swelled with milk, leaving you a bloated, fecund mess.  And still you beg for more.  Still you beg to be fucked, to be milked, to be filled to the brim with another batch of seed, all while your belly squirms and bulges from the babies kicking within.

Do you want me to turn you onto your hands and knees, honey, so I can rail you from behind?  I bet it wouldn't take much to pop your waters and get the process going while I'm busy pumping into you with my cock.  And now that I've had a taste of this power over you, you'd better get used to spending your days on your hands and knees with a huge belly swinging under you, because that's where I intend to keep you.

[abyssalpriest]

Conversations with Leviathan #9, Apotheosis 27/9/23

A conversation about where I'm personally at at the moment.

Sat in a black room, told to turn the lamp off. Nothing but me and the ever-present black of the room that works as a scrying mirror I've been submerged into. I know Lev is in here, in the Astral I see him throwing in his encompassing aura strange colours that meld like nebulous galaxies, patches of oranges like the shades of Jupiter amongst unplaceable calmer, darker colours; I can't tell if it's some sort of light projector... No. Firmament-bound. It's him.

Words are brimming at my lips: Something about a rebirth, a naming ceremony, the other side of a gateway. From screaming out of the womb to the soft blanketed arrival into the new house - old house, for isn't a baby, borne of the parents who made it, just as aware as I am in this vision that its cells came from this house? Aware that it lived here in another form?

The atmosphere is dripping with the gentle tones of his voice, but he isn't speaking. The air itself has become his words in the way that an earthquake is a hummed melody from shifting plates. On my mind is a piece I wrote long ago, one I titled "An Application for Apotheosis". 

"Sit, and think." He says, the one set of words out of the flurry of back-and-forth conversations of doubts and reassurances we just had that he says to write down. 

I ask if I'm supposed to do what comes next while writing - I'm suddenly remembering (reminded) that I wanted to record what we did last night in the Astral that left me so exhausted.

-

20230926-OTH-DB

Running, running, wolf paws on ground but we flow like a raging river. I catch in the same glimpse beside me to my right... Someone else, in wolf form too, fur rippling over muscles and fixed expression, and the glint of the morning Sun as it fights the trees for a chance at blinding me. Who this wolf is I don't know, but I know, the Wolf has overtaken me and I see him absent of human gender and descriptions and names and instead they're dressed in pheremonal and animal unspoken names, the ancient names-before-names. The morning dew surrounds my feet in the form of pungeancy - the smell tells me direction of travel as much as eyes, it tells me it evaporates upwards -  and of moistened sticks and leaves, I am surrounded by the fecund soil and bacteria and musk and roots and - the scene is so fast, but also nothing. We're gliding through Time itself. I float, etheric slithering, and when I look to my right, presumably that is Lev runniing with me as a wolf but I think the memory sinks into an abstraction because now there is no Lev and I, there is no human language, there is the thrumming topology-esque collective patterning of the Wolf, and the mycellium network that bleeds from the word "packmates"... I think when I look at him I'm thrown back into reality. Look forward: The Sun is ahead of me somehow, all is mercurial silver, unreal, all slides, scents play as if they were little fae. Look right at him: Visceral, real, the beating sound of huffed breaths and breaking twigs and beating heavy footsteps, and air that whisks past yet makes barely reaches the nerves through thick fur.

I don't feel like a wolf, and I think that's part of the point. I sank so deep into the suit of the Wolf Spirit that I was barely aware of identity. The Law of Rhythm takes over, experience becomes a hands-off ride. The words echo in my head as I write, as if I need to be the one to say it: Isn't this what godhood should be?

A significant song begins to play. Isha, O' Isha...

-

"Do you know what to do, then?" 

I awaken from memory to the same impulse as I had before I began writing, which is spreading out black tentacles into the blackness around me, something I feel myself in. He, gentle as nearly touchless fog, slides into the vicinity of my body like hands under mine to take over, entering to offer to take control so that I can concentrate. No, I can do things well enough in the Astral. i compartmentalise, I divide myself, too much and too often. What's the point being incarnated if all I do is over there... A questioning side-eye, Astral is important to, self is self even if I don't remember... But no, I want to be able to choose which body I put what, where I do what, and at current my real only choice is the Astral. 

He tells me to go to Tumblr for a second. I'm immediately brought to the Your Tags section where I'm greeted with a picture of the Sky, and then I go to the Following section to see yet another of the Sky.

"Isn't that (the blue Sky) where you store your power?" 'Store' is an interesting word. Why 'store'?

Oh, his smirk and energy burn with pages of information that he has to say on the topic, I see glints of arcane (to myself) diagrams of workings, memories, it seems, of his own libraries. He notes that he can show me those own libraries if I visit in the Astral, how I'd love to. But regardless: What do you mean 'store'?

I think I know, hence the smirk - "You do." Of course I do. Reflection, amplification, magnetics, expressions of God, language and the nature of the echoing of sound. I suppose I just wasn't expecting it to be about storage -

"You're not going to expect any of this." His voice is the colour silver itself, no metaphor, there is no sound that comes from him, there is only silver exuded. "You are going to learn new things, and you are going to remember. There will not be expectations, only those two."

I see in my mind his stomach in human form, tanned skin; he shoos me away from describing the physicality with a wave of his hand to get me back on track, and yet the metaphor escapes me. Skin, the firmament, what's the diffference? His voice overlaps and entwines mine: Tanned leather over the sphere of God's playground. 

What is the difference between storage and - he stops me.

The information he tells comes in the abstraction of sliding, overlapping tongues; wide eyes in a head haloed by the Sun; the writhing of endless, sleepy human-esque bodies, many of which who are not chopped up but nonsensically joined to other things like dolls played with by bored children, a torso attached to a snake's midsection but the girth of both are inorganically mismatched, another torso whose arm extends off into a worm-like structure... Crowns of deer's antlers on one mannequin-esque visage and a body with one foot a bird's claws and the other - I can barely see any of this, the entanglement is intense, obscuring most individuality with the veil of collective natures. A thousand - possibly infinite - bodies all mismatched, all melded together like sleeping lovers post-orgy.

"In this instance, then, the human body is an idol of God. What is God doing mingling with His creations like that? The lesser animals?" 

I'm not - I'm just - I am overcome with the smoothness of warm honey milk, I want to make you some, I want to give it to you, I want it to slide down your neck inside mine and I want to be the shivlinga that decorates you. Why? I know why.

Ah, the ceremony of water and ash. I remember, or more so my body remembers, a time when it saw me in the Astral while someone else was controlling it to have a shower. Who was it over here possessing me? Aisha, probably. Oh, vividly I was in or next to a forest, I was wearing the three equal lines on the forehead and hair like yours in a ceremony this body still doesn't understand. I want to say we were hunting, we were. You say: "It was for a special pelt," and I know what you mean by that is not a literal pelt but a smooth energy in the facade of one: a veil - this was the Mental, not Astral? The mindspace? Yes, you say. I want to wear it.

The words that pour into my mind from myself are not English. They weigh more than English words, and they're of a language you're been teaching me. I can't quite hear myself though - 

Leviathan said: 

Ka: p-g-n dahnerr gha vaiin nya artha gho herrn.

Pronunciation:

Kha (Not pronounced): Parjanya dahn-ERR gha vay-EEn nya AHR-tha gho h*ern

Notes:

Parjanya: Your name, obviously.

Rolled Rs.

Consonant followed by H is similar to sanskrit.

h*: This letter is not used in any language you know, likely not able to be pronounced by your tongues. it's a palatal consonant, "h" will do

This is like a mantra. It is cyclical. It has no beginning or end. Trancelike. It is a blessing, meaning something along the lines of "(I, Parjanya) have passed the gate, I have become the (one who has passed/become the gate)" - effectively it leads into itself, a less literal but more illuminting translation to highlight the cycle might be: "(I am) the one who has passed the gate, by right of being the one who has passed the gate, (etc)" 

That's a bit of a misdirection, though, what I just gave is not a translation. The actual meaning stays between us.

[pb-dot]

Let's meet the Thereafter Crew: Felipe

With this final introduction, I've made it through the character profiles I'm going to share with the public for the moment. There is one big one remaining, but let's just say that I'd loathe to spoil that particular person. Anyway, let's meet Felipe.

Standing at a fierce 5’7, Felipe Espinosa can immediately be clocked as an accomplished athlete, in part because of his impressive shoulder and back musculature which he usually displays under some variant of a muscle shirt, and in part due to a pervasive aura of smugness. With skin that looks faintly but thoroughly tanned, a shock of black hair usually done up in some expensive “more on the top”-haircut, and light brown eyes that sparkle with something, usually mischief; Felipe is hot and he knows it.

Felipe is first and foremost fiercely competitive. He has been an archer full time since the age of sixteen, and according to himself he will never stop and never be anything short of the best. His attitude can occasionally be grating and abrasive, but Felipe can also be highly protective and affectionate of the people he has deemed worthy to be part of his life. Granted, clearing that bar can take some doing. Openly pansexual, and probably the second most relaxed with regard to sexuality among the Heroes.

Felipe grew up about as uneventfully as these things ever go in a middle-class home in Guadalajara, until a magical wind took him away one day to the Land Of Eternal Sky. In this world without other solid landmasses except for sparse floating islands, Felipe came to learn the way of the Skyfolk, nomadic packs of bird-men that fought for control of the most fecund sky-islands. Despite not being able to fly, Felipe found a spot among his Skyfolk tribe by taking to using their preferred weapons, bow and arrow, like a fish takes to water. Felipe’s mastery of archery became such an asset for him that when the elder of his clan, the Swiftbeaks, called the clan’s finest warriors to council, Felipe was included. The elder shared an ancient secret, that there was an artifact that could raise new floating islands from the skies below. The gods, or so the Elder claimed, hid this artifact on the most distant, desolated of islands to punish the Skyfolk’s ancestor’s for their hubris. It was time now, the Elder said, to attempt recovering the artifact, unfortunately they were under a hard time limit. The Thundertalon-Widewing confederacy has set their merciless raptor eyes on the nesting grounds of the Swiftbeaks, and if they have no safe island to move the nests and eggs to before the superior force arrives, theirs will be the final generation of the struggling clan.

With no time to lose, Felipe and the rag-tag team of birdman warriors set out searching for the distant island. Sparks of animosity fly between Felipe and Soars-in-Thermals, the equally ambitious son of the chief of The Swiftbeaks. The two come to an uneasy alliance once it becomes clear that the warriors of Thundertalon-Widewing are nipping at their heels, seeking to track them to the artifact and claim it for their own ends. It isn’t long before the band of Swiftbeak warriors have been wittled down to two, Felipe and Soars-in-Thermals. The uneasy alliance between the two is shaken after a particularly harrowing escape, and if it hasn’t shattered by the time Soars-in-Thermals fails to save Felipe falling to his apparent death in them middle of a heated battle, it certainly shatters at that moment.

Felipe finds himself on the surface of Skyworld. It’s a gray and dismal place, the ground is unforgiving rock, and the pressure of the thick atmosphere above that makes up the world of the Skyfolk makes walking, talking, or even breathing hard. Despite having wounded his left arm in the fall, Felipe refuses to give up, and starts attempting to scavenge the materials to build a ladder or some sort of scaffolding to get back up into the skies. He finds not nearly enough, and to make matters worse, the aggressive inhabitants of the surface, nameless scavenger beasts, are unlikely to leave anything he builds alone long enough to get all that high even if he could build it. Felipe starts then to map the area of the surface, and in his surveys, he finds several large geysers that spew water and minerals into the sky. What changes Felipe’s hopeless situation is a series of whistles he recognizes as Soars-in-Thermals’ speaking the Language of Whistles, a long-distance communication method the Skyfolk employ in low-visibility settings. Together, the two hatch a foolhardy, desperate plan. They locate the geyser closest to a thermal column. In the process discover that the geysers form the updraft-generating thermal columns, and that the sudden cessations of these thermals are triggered by the geysers erupting. Felipe scavenges what sort of lightweight protection he can manage out of his by now shredded armor and the tough, leathery leaves of the ground plants. When the time comes, Felipe and Soars-in-Thermals both know their plan is foolhardy, extremely dangerous for both of them as Soars has to dive towards the erupting geyser, catch Felipe shooting up from the ground, and break off the dive in preparation for the thermal column reforming without touching the layer of turbulent winds that’d send him, and his fresh catch, hurtling down to the surface.

Felipe describes the moment where he got launched off the ground by the immense power of the geyser as the second-most thrilling moment of his life (“points off for how immensely painful it was if I’m honest”,) and the subsequent moment when Soars-In-Thermals caught him as the single most thrilling one by far. Once they had reached comfortable flying height, Felipe’s updated map of the thermals and the moments when they’d temporarily fail made it all but trivial to make it across to the island and recover the artifact. “I had hoped it looked a little cooler, honestly,” to quote Felipe. As they turn home, Felipe comes to question where their pursuers might have gone. The two realize, perhaps too late, that it’d make more sense to wait to ambush them on their return-trip, with the artifact already picked up.

“It was a fierce battle,” Felipe would later retell it. “They were down to… what, a handful of warriors, but these were the cream of the crop, their chief beak-busters, real flying bricks if you know what I’m saying. To make it worse, I had a broken arm so I couldn’t even shoot them on my own, and Soars, well soars had to fly for our lives right? So we come up with, well, I come up with really, this plan, very last ditch, but I have Soars nock the arrow and do the pulling, while I aim as best as I can with my functioning arm, right?” At this point, Felipe would laugh, a brief, self-conscious little thing. “It’s not my best plan I’ll admit, but we got a couple of them, just finessed them out because even my sloppy aim at that point was superior to the blind-fire Soars would’ve been able to do on his own, so we clipped the wings of a couple of them before they even got a chance to fire back. And Soars... wow wow wow, Soars flew like I’d never seen before. He did barrel rolls, he did loops, he did some fancy air break maneuvers I don’t even know the name of. It was almost enough.” An enemy arrow hit Soars-in-Thermals right wing, and Felipe would soon have his hands full supporting the wounded wing before it collapsed and sent them both plunging to their deaths. “It was a desperate, foolhardy run for the end zone,” Felipe would admit, “but we fucking DID IT.”

Felipe recalls the celebrations after returning to Swiftbeak lands in great detail. To keep it short, Felipe shared what he had learned about the surface and the thermals, and the Swiftbeaks used the display of the artifact’s power to intimidate the Thundertalon-Wildwing confederation to back down. The magical wind coming to take Felipe back to the real world was a thing Felipe would have dreaded if he saw it coming.

Once back in the real world, Felipe wasted no time in leveraging his experiences. It took some years to train his upper body strength to the point where she could consistently pull a composite bow, but once he was able to, Felipe took the dive into professional archery and never looked back. His parents never understood his zeal their only son showed for archery, but his results, and the money his career brought to the house sure did speak a language of its own. Felipe has kept going, the sponsorship deals have dried up somewhat since his prodigy days, but his results have remained impressive enough that Felipe doesn’t really mind.

Felipe started out as a bit of a take on Marco from The Animorphs, you may notice that trend in these characters, but I feel like he has evolved into a bit of a character on his own. He's more motivated by his own perfectionism when he's a wisecracking asshole than he is by inner pain, for one, although there is inner pain make no mistake. What kind of a peebs character would it be if there was no grievous mental wound in there somewhere, after all? Anyway, in a 90's adventure cartoon, Felipe would be the Naysayer, the Guy Who Is Wrong All The Time, the one who the designated Leader Guy would have to enforce his authority over. I am trying to do a bit of a Mr. Magic-inspired twist on that archetype because some times it's actually really important that someone has the gall to point out that leaders aren't always right, and that blind obedience is no better morally than living in chaos.

[selkie-on-land]

ALL OF THIS reminds me SO MUCH of this book I ALWAYS talk about !

" The Inversion of Symbols.

All the symbolism which once designated the Divine Mother in its different aspects and which aroused the respect and adoration of people, will be systematically demonized in the completed patriarchy.

So it is for the Earth, for the Tree of Life, for the Bird, for the Mountain, for Sexuality… this list is not exhaustive.

For example, we can read in Genesis:

“Cursed be the Earth.”, Genesis 3 17

Curse which is repeated in the commentaries of the Zohar. (Bereishit III 53b)

The Earth conceived in the "first culture", as the sacred womb of the Great Genitrix, Mistress of Fertility/Fecundity. This explains why the Goddess is often depicted holding in her hands the "Horn of Plenty" full of nourishing fruits that she produces as sacred Earth/Mother. The Earth, matrix where the alchemy of Life is accomplished, was also the secret and protective place which received the dead generally placed in the position of fetuses and painted with red ocher, the color of blood, to be reborn like plants after Winter when the Spring come back. The offerings which accompanied the bodies clearly show that in the times of the Goddess, the earth is conceived as a womb in perpetual gestation and not, as it will be in completed patriarchy, a cold and definitive tomb.

No one could "possess" her, [...] she was the Great sacred symbol of the source of all life.

While the work of agriculture, in the times of the Goddess, was accomplished with the hoe, the desecrated land will then be subjected to the plowing of the deified patriarchal Plow, "Aruru", as shown in several Akkadian myths [the Akkadians are the males shepherds who sacked and colonized Sumer, the great "country" of our Divine Mother Inanna] dated around -2000, and numerous symbolic figures engraved on the rock of the mountain, at Mont Bego in the Maritime Alps, for example where the plow harnessed by two cattle appear led by a male represented very symbolically in an ityphallic position.

It is also this Earth that has become matter which will be sold to the highest bidder and exploited at will."

My own annotation :

prostitution of the earth -> prostitution of the Great Mother Goddess?

This is an extract from the book "Avant les dieux, la Mère Universelle" by Françoise Gange. (before the gods, the Universal Mother)

Arose from the fact that in matriarchy, agriculture was respectful of the soil and its micro ecosystem. But with the beginning of patriarchy, there was a change in agriculture, they started to no longer follows the rules of the earth but their greed. And their new way of doing things had the aim and interest of violating the earth,. As the earth was seen as the body, the sex of the Great Mother Goddess it was a way for all men to putt their dominance on her by raping her repeatedly to show women what are the rules now. And what are their places and status.

And as it was always connected, through fertility festivities (our bodies and the fertility) obviously it was also impacted with the change of status of the society. When they turned patriarchale, the meaning of the words changed too.

I'm not joking, even scientist/specialist in the gardening/soil etc are saying that the agro industry that we are still doing which is rooted in the change I talked above, is litteraly like raping the earth. Because it destroys, it is still an act to assert dominance from the men on the earth, etc. There is A LOT of similarities between those two. That's why I saw the same pattern as the prostitution that I annoted on my book.

In response to their act, the Great Mother didn't give them anything to recolt, nothing to eat, nothings were growing. The people saw this as a sign of punishment from Her. Which leadeds to a rebellion in somes areas where they brought back the Great Mother Culture and suddenly The Great Mother was nourrishing her children again !! Wonderful!

When factually it was the brutal change of practice and the practice itself that lead to this sterile land but thanks to that it helps the people to stand for and stand by her. It gives them evidence for their battles against the war that men had started on women and the earth.

The feminism is not a recent movement. It ALWAYS was there since they started their war on us. For more then 5 000 years women are fighting back ! We have so many history that belongs to us. And the fact that we are still fighting means that they didn't completly won the war.

@ men calling sperm their ‘seed’: did you mean your fucking pollen

[bigfat2000]

Inscryption Kaycee’s Mod all devlog entries (#01-#12)

wondering if it’s too early to post them, but hey i already got them typed out, so... yeah

this post contains Major Spoilers for Kaycee’s Mod (obviously), don’t read ahead if you want to unlock the devlogs yourself

all of the entries have been transcribed into text for convenience

not unlocked -

<DATA CORRUPTED. FOR ANY QUALITY CONCERNS PLEASE CONTACT KAMINSKI DATA STORAGE MFG.>

#01 -

OK I need to write this down NOW so I don't go to sleep and tell myself I dreamt it.

I'm working late and testing the latest build and out of nowhere The Angler starts FREAKING OUT. Like he pulled something up out of the river with his hook then he GETS UP and WALKS. There is no walk animation for this character! WTF?! He walked right into the cabin. I followed him in and couldn't find him. Leshy had some new dialogue lines that I CANNOT FIND IN THE DIALOGUE FILE. He said something about some "OLD_DATA" and how The Angler served him well or something.

I'm so tired that I'm already wondering if I made this up.

#02 -

So I woke up and damn near lost my mind. I tried to recreate that bug with The Angler over and over and nothing weird was happening. Then I realized I was testing on a different disk! So I popped in the same disk as last night and HOLY SHIT. Leshy went 3D. What does that mean? I barely even know. Maybe I AM crazy. The entire game is different. Leshy took over and it's 3D. I don't know anyone who would listen to me about this.

#03 -

I've been playing this "new" Inscryption now for a few days. Work has been unproductive. I emailed some of the other devs - kinda probing to see if they know anything about this without appearing crazy. No dice.

The strange thing? The game is fun. Like it's actually a good game. But stranger still? Leshy. He talks to the Challenger almost as if he's talking to ME. It's freaky but not altogether unwelcome - I could use a friend.

#04 -

I scoured the disk last night looking for some kind of explanation. And I found some really wild stuff. It made me think... what is the OLD_DATA and why does Leshy only talk about it when he's wearing The Woodcarver's mask?

I found some log from Mr. Kaminski. It was pretty clear when I met him that the guy had issues... but he seemed to be saying in this log that the entire development of Inscryption was a cover. For what? How infuriating if true.

Time to start another run I guess.

#05 -

I'm addicted to Leshy's Inscryption.

It's far from perfect though. Some really unbalanced shit in here to be honest. I have my Ouroboros up to over a hundred thanks to the stupidly broken Fecundity sigil combo.

I decided that I'm going to work on making this balanced. And maybe a bit of an actual challenge? I'm making a mod! I wonder what Leshy will think.

#06 -

Work on the mod continues. I was appalled to find that Leshy chose to use the Kaycee Hobbes' ghoul skull as a trinket on his shelf. He fills it up with teeth for the Trapper after every boss... Kinda lame because it's tedious to keep getting up from the table just to collect the teeth. I'll have to hack that out. He'll hate me for it.

#07 -

Some nights I mod, some nights I dig. I dig deeper into this log file and find things I sometimes wish I hadn't. This isn't just some disk Kaminski used to vent his workplace frustrations. This is like some real shit.

Every once and a while I get some context from The Woodcarver and it's chilling. This could be all bunk... or there could be a doomsday machine under Berlin armed by a code hidden on a pack of cards.

In other words, I just finished implementing the Boss Totems challenge.

#08 -

I barely leave the apartment save for the odd dinner out with mom... but last night was an exception. I went to Comics Land to play a Secrets of Legendaria draft. Is it weird that I brought the disk with me? I felt uncomfortable being apart from it.

I ended up ripping a foil Sweaty Dragon but lost the first match to this weird dude who wanted to record it for his YouTube channel. Like he actually brought a camcorder on a shaky looking tripod to the shop! How is that allowed?!

#09 -

Today I found out what happened to P03... Leshy turned The Scrybe of Technology into a Stoat card. I found the card on a shelf below the safe and laughed right out loud when it told me it was P03 and needed help. I handed it over to Leshy who was less amused. I guess this is the fate that the other Scrybes met... though I haven't seen them yet.

#10 -

Last night I brought the disk with me on a walk around the seawall and was THIS close to just chucking it out into the water.

If I'm right the Karnoffel Code is still out there and the machine is, incredibly, still ready to accept it. Destroy the disk, no one finds the Code, and no one can blow up half of Europe. Right? But I saw an otter which made me think of Leshy. Maybe we need the Code to DISarm the machine? Could that be right? I can't be sure.

I went home.

#11 -

No one will ever play this mod and, the way things are looking, they might never even play this game. But I'm gonna indulge in a fantasy.

Thousands of players play it and love it. They each find different reasons to love it and even love its imperfections. They make music and art about it that makes me see my own work in a different way. But even a simple comment can have this effect. It makes me feel like all my work mattered and then some. I am overflowing with gratitude.

Well, time to finish up the Squirrel Fish challenge. Maybe I'll hit up Comics Land later.

#12 -

Call from Mr. Kaminski at 9:45 pm. What the hell is wrong with this guy? He wants all the sample disks back at the factory NOW. What does he know? NAH TICK MASS he kept saying.

I'm done with all of this but I can't bring myself to destroy this disk, I'm sorry. I've got a little wooden box and I'm gonna bury it with the disk inside. I'm writing the coords down and who knows maybe I'll burn them later. Leshy will thank me. The world may not.

Goodbye for now <3

[bengiyo]

My Only 12% Ep 6 Stray Thoughts

Alright. We had three great kisses this week from Minato's Laundromat, Love in the Air, and The Eclipse. You can do it, too, My Only 12%...but I'm sure you're just gonna break hearts this week.

These two are so codependent that I don't even know how their friends cope with them.

I tell ya. I am 100% with Eiw on being annoyed about Cake flirting with a girl in Eiw's bed.

NOW KISS??? Of course not. Just these two growing apart and not knowing what to do.

Boy Sompob has been with us since the beginning (The Shake song on the Lovesick OST still slaps), so it's a huge relief to hear him on the soundtrack for this show. He's been very sick, but has been optimistic on socials and recently celebrated the anniversary of his fan club.

Eiw's friends being named Fee and Kung makes me think of fecund. I'm so sorry

Sometimes it's just nostalgic to watch these boys and see them dealing with growing pains. Cake has done nothing wrong with Rin, but his friends and Eiw aren't necessarily keen on sharing him

Damn, everyone is going at Cake about Rin. I feel bad for Rin now.

Ah, and here Sand goes. I was worried about the mention of the piggybank earlier. Not keen on this!

Oh no, here we go with this Peak pursuing Eiw's sister plotline. 😒

I do like how the Thai boys portrayed in BL don't seem as afraid of touching each other. Maybe I was too closeted growing up, but it felt like American boys just cannot have casual affection.

Auntie Proud is correct. Cake will weep when Eiw stops waking him up.

Now I'm gonna be wondering what Auntie Proud said to Cake forever.

And now Sand is nowhere to be found. He took the money and ran.

Slaps Peak on the head. You can fit so much BL in this boy.

Note to self: do not order sausages in Thailand.

Sand really is a shit. How cruel.

I'm glad I didn't have to watch Santa and Oreo fight, but I hope Cake whooped Sand's ass. I'd be there like:

Spill the tea? Were we saying that in 2007, or is that just an enthusiastic translation?

I really like the way both of their moms engage with them. It's loving, but not overly indulgent. Cake did get into a fight, and should face consequences for that.

I like Prem as a big brother a lot.

I'm really liking this door metaphor for building trust. American tv and filmmakers come from smaller families, but Thailand still has a culture where lots of people have siblings. The energy feels right.

I'm not pro-spanking, but I do know what others went through. Cake's family feels normal. The mom administering discipline. The dad offering tacit support, but approving of the victory. The sister teasing.

We still didn't learn what was bothering Cake.

The hets are in the preview... Ah, Cake is leaving next episode. Time for the drama.

[icyxmischief]

[1/2] TBH I think a not insignificant part of the issue with the Loki series is the fact that we watched the Loki we got to know over YEARS of movies die in an unnecessarily graphic, personal, and DELIBERATELY spiteful way towards his own fanbase, only to be replaced more-or-less off screen with a newer version of him that is like a hybrid of Ragnarok and pre-Ragnarok Loki. Like yeah the series had high viewership and was really popular, but the wound's still pretty fresh for most of us.

I'm so sorry, this got lost in a pile of asks that my executive dysfunction hasn't let me answer, but honestly....I feel this. I feel how you feel. I'm glad he's still alive in some form (I do believe he's Our Loki, just Our Loki allowed to have a chance to reflect on his trajectory a little more slowly and rationally...lol even if he's still without the reliable support he needs), but the pacing of only six episodes didn't allow his core fanbase time to adjust to this new trajectory, because his character development from unwilling villain, to antihero, to hero, was rushed, and crammed in with revelations about who really pulls the strings of the Marvel multiverse, and finally with Sylvie, who is a remarkable character, but who almost needs her own series to explore the really fecund themes of personal agency and choice and circumstance and fate and all those really meaty things. It also doesn't help that Love and Thunder came out only about a year later with Loki conspicuously absent from Thor's side, as his foil and counterpart, and frankly neither character is as interesting without the other, yet Thor as a character seems to have completely adjusted to Loki's absence....a writing and directing choice that I won't even go into right now, but that definitely was an additional sting.

I want to see Loki happier but this series didn't achieve that. Loki may be surer that his purpose is noble, but that's different. He is still alone and isolated and condemned by unjust higher powers to play a role it turns out he wasn't really born to play (villain, for "The Timeline" to stay singular). Fine, okay, that's a compelling way to give us a season 2. And I have always believed Loki is capable of altruistic acts. BUT the fact remains that he changed too quickly, and as a result, I look at him and say, "well, that's Tom Hiddleston playing a tall black-haired character with great skill, but I wonder who this character is." I don't see Loki. Not fully. Going from 2011 to 2017 with his gradual, unpredictable, morally gray development, to only six weeks of rapidly changing his fundamental characterization, is just too fast.

I think what I wanted to see was Loki gaining control of his own life, being a "better" person, but on his own terms, and in his own way. Loki will always be sly and capricious and opportunistic, and just a little bit of a pariah or outcast. He can still be these things and happy, but so far, no canon writer in the MCU has been able to pull this off plausibly.

What Marvel doesn't seem to understand is that Loki being an underdog and outcast resonates with many, many people, deeply. Therefore that outcast status has to be honored at the same time as he is permitted to grow. You can't erase it and make him someone who ever stays sedentary within any single identity. I think Tom Hiddleston is the one who said he's ALWAYS "between damnation and redemption," and that tension is what makes him compelling. The moment you resolve it and write him off as a villain OR as a hero, he loses his magnetism altogether.

[thegracelessfaceless]

Sound Effects and Overdramatics (Ticci Toby x Nurse Grace) 20.

(AN: So I picked first person for now 😅 that might change later, but for now, we'll stick with this) Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, it's part of a very long ongoing series and you can find all the other chapters here. If you aren't following or just want updates, go ahead and give me a follow. I also put out drawings and have a friend who is making a soundtrack to go with this fic!

Triggers: allusion to r*pe, arranged marriage,

Toby and I sat on the couch and Slenderman turned in his chair, crossing his long skinny legs ankle over knee. He threaded his fingers together, holding his knee as Toby threw an arm over the back of the plush white couch and I leaned into his body as I sat back. Slowly, and not lacking the appropriate amount of drama, Slenderman began to tell Toby and me everything we needed to know about Zalgo.

'Mother came from a dimension very, very far from here. She had been matched with a king from a neighboring realm. Your human minds cannot even begin to comprehend Mother's language, so I will give them names you can process better. Mother was matched with the formidable King of Nightmares, and she knew she must obey, for it was her High Priestess who declared the match. To refuse would have been to be shunned for eternity.'

Slenderman paused before continuing, 'However, Mother loved another, the King of Nightmares' rival, Father of Day. Mother had gained his favor centuries before the matching, and upset, Mother ran to him instead of her intended. She spent one, passionate day with him. The next morning, the King of Nightmares, who had started searching for his new bride, found them and slayed Father of Day and dragged Mother from his bed. I'm certain I shouldn't need to retell what happened next.' He looked down, shaking his head.

Every time Slenderman said a name, it sounded garbled and another voice of a slightly different, but montonous tone inserted the names Slenderman gave the beings in his story. My heart wept for Mother. She had only wanted to be with the one she loved, but the forces that be in her world had forced her to marry some king who was scary enough to be called the King of Nightmares.

'Females of our kind differ from human females in small ways biologically, the biggest being that, like most of the mammalian creatures inhabiting this planet, they can become impregnated by more than one male at a time, especially very fertile females. Such was the case with Mother, as she had two mates reproduce with her within one day cycle, and she was very fecund. Mother became pregnant with twins, my brother and me. Another difference is that pregnancies last for much longer, years instead of months. She donned a mask to cover her face, and wore flowing robes that covered her from any eyes view. Since Mother was carrying twins, one of which was royal, the palace doctors placed her on very strict bedrest.' Slenderman chuckled a little and moved, stretching out his legs before crossing his other ankle on the opposite knee. 'Mother became fond of looking in on other realities and planets. It was very much like when you humans watch television. And she grew enamored with one planet in particular, here. She fell in love with the scenery and creatures here, so, she gathered all of her strength and left one moon. She traveled here and never looked back, but continued to cover her visage. She befriended a witch who took her in and when the time came, delivered Zalgo and myself into existence, first me, then Zalgo ten minutes later.'

Some small movement under Slenderman's skin gave me the impression that he was smiling fondly, 'She says that I look just like my father, Father of Day. And Zalgo reminds her so much of King of Nightmares. So naturally, I became her favorite. And Zalgo has made that a continual bone of contention.'

Slenderman was quiet for a moment, thinking, then said, 'Zalgo incurred Mother's wrath when he created a plague in 1347. I believe that one was called 'The Black Death'. She drew and quartered him and then put him in stasis for centuries. We woke him in 1900, but he set Paris on fire, killing even more, and then invited us to tea. So we went, and Mother put him back to sleep. He must have started dreaming, found Jeffery and Natalie through their nightmares, and then enlisted them as his proxies for when he awoke. If enough deaths are caused in his name, the power he gains from each death could be enough to not only wake him, but give him enough power to rise to his full embodiment.'

"It doesn't really surprise me that he picked Jeff and Natalie" Toby said, "of all of us, they were always the closest to embracing their insanity."

'You are correct, Tobias, Zalgo likely noticed that trait and took advantage of it in order to manipulate them more soundly.' He rubbed his chin, 'Now, we must locate and round up troops for you to command, Tobias, for Zalgo cannot be allowed to rise and meet his full power. That would bring about the apocalypse, or Zalgo's version of it. Four hundred years of suffering as he claims this land as his new Realm of Nightmares and carries on his father's legacy. It will become a hellscape, much like his father's realm. Do you understand the urgency to defeat him? He will only cause death and destruction. Zalgo hates everything Mother and I enjoy. Mother and I value human life, as it is our life source, but Zalgo has no regard for humans or their home. He views humans as tools or objects of amusement for him to use as he pleases. He would destroy you all in spite. None of you would be safe. Tobias, Grace. He would kill you first. Grace first to cause Tobias to suffer, then Tobias to make me suffer as he is my favorite. And in order to make Mother suffer, he would attempt to slay me. Again.'

Slenderman had become so impassioned that he had stood from his chair to pace a narrow track between the opposite couch and the coffee table. I didn't point out that I thought Slenderman was just as manipulative, if not more, than his twin brother. He had offered me and Toby nothing but kindness, and he, at least, valued human life to some point, even if it was to meet his own ends. This made him the lesser of two evils.

"I don't want to live through Zalgo's reign" I said softly, "so I'll risk dying to take him out."

"Agreed" Toby said, squeezing my hand gently.

It was decided that Toby and I would start visiting recruits tomorrow, along with investigating any suspicious activity that could be related to Zalgo's coming. Slenderman dismissed me and Toby and I followed him to the door.

"Do you want me to go with you, or do you want to try it alone again?" Toby asked as he played with my fingers, running his fingertips over my knuckles distractedly.

"Hmm" I thought, "I think I'll try alone again. After all, you won't always be able to hold my hand, I'm sure."

Toby gave me a funny little smile, "I will as long as you let me, but I like that you want to learn to do this on your own. I'll meet you in our rooms."

He opened the door and walked through. I followed him and we were both met by Mother and her fog. We crossed the void to our bedroom door, me, keeping the warm autumn colored room in the front of my mind. But just as Toby passed through the doorway, the fog cleared enough that I could see another figure in the void.

They wore an aged bone colored dress that hung to their feet in tatters, just covering white Victorian style boots with tiny buttons. A brown corset that looked like leather covered their tiny waist, no doubt pulled as tightly as breath would allow. The bodice of the dress was also bone white and showed in slits in the corset and the cups of the decolletage of the dress. Safe to say from the ample bosom in the dress that the figure was female in sex. A shawl in matching white covered the figures head and hung down their shoulders and back to their knees. The face was indistinguisgable at this distance, blurring solid black in all the white cloth that adorned them.

Strangely, I didn't feel fear when I saw this person. They stood so far away as it was. Then Mother's fog enveloped me again and I opened the door in front of me, picturing the bedroom. And then I stepped through.

The Figure in the Void

[miraculous-monogatari]

Sentimonster!Adrien?

Freaking out since the new ladybug episode came out and some people came up with the theory that Adrien is a Sentimonster and it makes a little sense. Just trying to gather thoughts to unscramble and may add on later with more info.

Maybe this is too dark for a kids show but remember the PV! ML was originally supposed to be much darker!

They have been referencing the PV a few times throughout the series too.

Remember the one concept art where Adrien has a cane? He is clearly NOT PERFECT THERE but okay.

Sentimonsters are sentient creatures. Some more elaborate than others. Chat Noir called Senti!bug "perfect".

It was strongly hinted that Emilie was the previous Peacock miraculous holder. Also pointed out the damaged miraculous was the reason Nathalie was getting weaker.

Uhhh. Gabriel very obviously disregards his son's feelings and safety. He exerts the bare minimum to show how much he cares. I think he cares about Adrien the same way he cares about the miraculous book from Tibet: one of the last few "things" left to him by Emilie. He is starting to make me uncomfortable BUT if Adrien was a Sentimonster and not really his son, some of the things that are said by him, especially as Hawkmoth, that sounded contradictory might be less contradictory if he doesn't believe Adrien to be his true son.

Maybe he created Adrien together with Emilie with peacock & butterfly combined and that's why he's more desperate to get Emilie back.

We've seen it pointed out that both Gabriel (in Simon Says) and Astruc (Twitter response to Marinette & Adrien's flaws) called Adrien as perfect. And Marinette/LB said she could never be perfect like the Senti!LB was. Note, he also said Adrien's flaw is that he is not accustomed to the "outside" world. With quotes on "outside".

We've seen many times Adrien mentioning never having friends before.

We have also have seen Adrien Agreste & Marinette's name meaning interpreted.

Adrien is the French variation of the name Adrian, commonly "Of the coast" but less commonly "Dark/Dark Richness". Hmmmmmm. Agreste apparently the word for greyling butterfly, but I couldn't find a good source for that that linked the name meaning but here we go.:

We see Marinette Dupain-Cheng's name translated as "The Girl Who Rises to Make the Bread" which. Makes sense because her parents are bakers.

But uh. What about if you think about the biblical meaning of bread? Where bread = life? There aren't many Bible references in ML but hear me out.

Wow! Bread = miracles in the New testament! But what is fecundity??? I've never heard of that word before.....

HOLY SHIT.

The ability to produce many new ideas. Kind of like. What Mari!LB does with the lucky charms.

I don't know. Maybe... Marinette is going to Pinocchio the shit out of Adrien and turn him into a real boy. Or something like today. A miracle. She wanted to leave Senti!bug (and free, she said) but Mayura made that a bit impossible.

You know who hates and fears being caged up and locked up? Hmmmm????? *ADRIEN*

Y'all. Y'ALL. IT'S MIDNIGHT and I'm sorry that I'm not very coherent and maybe tomorrow I can make more cohesive thoughts. I didn't want to lose my train of ideas so I'm trying to get it all out now. Maybe someone younger and smarter than me can figure out how they all connect. Or I'll try tomorrow when I have time to write down everything in some kind of order.

Sorry for the rambling. Goodnight.

[theangrypokemaniac]

Whenever fans invent children for Jessie and James, they tend to come up with two.

Two?

You think I've waited 20+ years for Rocketshipping to reach fruition only to have it resolve in a mere brace of offspring?!

As if!

This is love that could burn holes in the cosmos! It can't help but create more life than that!

Have you no concern for equal representation of combinations? For all that is righteous, it has to go like this:

• Boy just like James.

• Girl just like James.

• Boy just like Jessie.

• Girl just like Jessie.

• Boy with James's hair and Jessie's eyes.

• Girl with James's hair and Jessie's eyes.

• Boy with James's eyes and Jessie's hair.

• Girl with James's eyes and Jessie's hair.

That makes eight. Eight in eight years thank you.

Being of a generous disposition, I'll let Jessie have the next twelve-month period off, but after that:

• Boy just like Pa James.

• Girl just like Pa James.

• Boy just like Ma James.

• Girl just like Ma James.

• Boy with Pa's hair and Ma's eyes.

• Girl with Pa's hair and Ma's eyes.

• Boy with Pa's eyes and Ma's hair.

• Girl with Pa's eyes and Ma's hair.

Ah, sixteen, that's a nice round number.

Hey, they'll be paying for these kids you know!

Yes, as James's parents the grandchildren would take after them anyway, but specifically, the Ma ones would have her purple and her face, and the Pa sort his blue and the dangly piece of which he is justly proud.

James inherited it but Pa's is a thicker example.

I can hear you now:

Ooh, what about Ma Jess?

I wish there were more pictures available to offer some variety.

Ma Jess?!

You people make me sick. Jessie ain't some breed mare built to fulfil your fantasies.

She's having the necessary sixteen, but oh no, that's not enough, you've got to to push her to the edge.

Besides:

1. If Ma Jess wanted to be properly represented genetically she should've stayed and brought her daughter up, rather than fannying about on a suicide mission. Think of Ma and Pa's fine example.

I told yer, Mew lives in the jungle. She only goes up mountains in the skiing season. Even then it's off piste.

2. Jessie looks mostly like Ma Jess anyway so that'll do.

Considering that Jessie and Jessibelle are so similar, and Jessie is the image of her mother, any connection between the girls, should one exist, must come from Ma Jess's side, not any supposed father.

3. There are many folk out there who keep Ma Jess in mind when writing their stories and creating the upcoming generation, for all that she is a borderline mythological character who is canon only in the dub, ironically enough, and probably isn't anymore, until she is again.

If you want the output of those for whom her non-existent existence presses like a ten-ton weight on their conscience, they are all around you, but, who I ask, speaks for Ma and Pa's input? You know, The Best Parents In Pokémon, who stayed together and didn't abandon their son?

Come on, they've only got three fans, and that's including the one Ma holds! Someone's got to champion their half of the bloodline!

If more Ma and Pa followers read this, then show thyself!

4. We don't have a single iota of information on that bastard Pa Jess. The only thing I ever heard, back in the day, was him serving as Pokémon's version of Windy Miller, i.e. quite the alky.

Who's Windy Miller? I've been dying to give myself an an excuse to mention him.

Windy Miller was a main character in Camberwick Green, Trumpton and the other one, the name of which escapes me. These were searing documentaries of bleak rural poverty, the existential pain of living and one man's eternal struggle with the dæmon drink.

This was that man:

I've now convinced myself that's Pa Jess.

Look at him, swanning about his felt smock, his red bow, his shiny shoes and his Puritan hat: he's a menace to society.

Ah, and who shined those shoes? You can bet it wasn't him.

Windy Miller owned a windmill (shocked, aren't you?) and was always getting him into amusing scrapes thanks to his bibulous ways

See?

It got so bad they had call to the British Army from the the Napoleonic Wars to sort 'im out, as if they haven't got enough problems.

Windy was such a commited imbiber he didn't sup bottles of cider like lightweight teenage hooligans. He knocked back pots of the stuff.

Hardcore brother, hardcore.

The local children therefore learnt the harsh realities of life at an early age. The above picture is probably a fair encapsulation of Jessie's childhood.

You've never seen Pa Jess and Windy Miller side by side, have you?

It's because they're the same person. Where Windy originated we know not, and whither Pa went is a mystery, but no longer.

Thus concludes the history of Pa Jess.

Where was I? Oh yes, apparently when Ma Jess perished, Pa scraped together all the money not pissed up the wall and sent Jessie off to Pokémon Tech., after which he promptly died, of cirrhosis presumably. Or he went home more like.

Despite the clear evidence provided on Pa's identity, I'm sure some killjoy will quibble over the details. I suppose we have to humour such people.

Consequently, we can't legally claim to have knowledge of Pa Jess's appearance, barring the brood from inheriting it, meaning only a couple of options are open to us:

• Boy just like Ma Jess.

• Girl just like Ma Jess.

Alright! That's eighteen kids! Are you happy now?

Ooh, what about overpopulation?

Correction: the world's overpopulated with scum. We need more good 'uns to prevent being outnumbered.

If you're a husband and wife determined to spend eternity together, you might as well have  as many babies as possible.

I'm looking at you there, Ma and Pa James!

Compare Brock's lot: ten kids, Pa effed off, Ma died of exhaustion!

If that's what faithless marriages produce, rock-solid unions ought to contribute to the nation's wellbeing by bringing up decent children.

She is ethereally beautiful.

I can forgive a lot from a pretty face.

I've never seen this picture elsewhere, so if you use it, I will know it's from me.

Take it! Spread it across the internet! But I claim to be the originator.

As for Rumishippers (I know you're about, I've seen the art) I'm sure they also approve of these dynastic plans, as long as a slight tweak in the mother's name is allowed.

The fecundity will be as forthcoming, for we may conclude that Jessibelle is one to never utter the passion-thwarting line to James:

'Not tonight dear, I've got an headache.'

Not many men can say that whatever girl they choose to marry, the children will be same.

[face-full-of-fists-bitch]

Kuwabara has those who are parts of him, "Hiroginna" being one of them, her actual demonic name being King Paimon who is also Azazel, Azazel being Shemyaza who is Lucifer who is Kuwabara.

King Paimon told me.

She says that this is just is, but Kuwabara has these also as himself: Mephistopheles, Baal, Beelzebub, Astaroth, Sitri.

Kuwabara is all them, plus: Lucifer who is Shemyaza who is King Paimon and Azazel who is Iblis who is Melek Ta'us.

Me? I am Kimaris who is Purson, but I am also Dagon (you) and Pazuzu (Hiei). Dagon is a fertility god who fecunds the earth, is wise, and has a great amount of intelligence. Pazuzu is a much darker personification, he brings about droughts, scorching heat, blazing hot winds, plagues, suffering, and other evils.

Pazuzu had a sister-wife named Lamashtu who is Lilith who is now also... Yukina.

I was also married to that woman as well, as a second wife, her name she went by was Ereshkigal and Ninlil. I left my first wife, who is Lucifer, for Lilith, along with having cheated immensely on my first wife and treated her horribly.

You have a closeness with Kuwabara because... You're me. Pazuzu is me, too, meaning Hiei is me. You're both my own manifestations who took their own personal forms, both of you having originated from me as having been a part of me.

...

I turned on Lucifer a long time ago. All three of us did. Not just me. And it lead to the eventual collapse of our empire and Enma taking over after he destroyed our kingdom.

I'm not proud of myself?

You've got ghosts? Haunting you?

Are you haunted?

Yeah, yeah. I get ya. We're all blood of kin, but I meant we're related on the soul level.

It's some form of division or splitting, yet, we're all still connected and it has little to nothing to do with the whole Twin Flames concept.

"Haunted? Yeah, I suppose so.. Also, try to be a little more specific next time. How did you find out exactly that we're related on the soul level anyways?"

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

If you find the energy and willingness to do so, I'm super interested in why you don't agree with Dean being a closeted queer person. (Not trying to start anything, I'm genuinely interested.)

Sure! Well, “closeted” is a word that I don’t find particularly fecund in an analysis, or in general, because "being closeted” has meaning in relation to something - like, for instance, you’re closeted to your parents, you’re closeted in your workplace, you’re closeted to everyone outside of the internet, you’re closeted to people you’re not very close to, etc. And sure, you can be closeted to everyone on the planet, but if you exclude people who haven’t told a single soul, there is no such thing as “being in the closet” in an absolute sense. You can come out to one person and you’re not in the closet in relation to them, but still in the closet in relation to everyone else. You can come out to literally everyone you have ever had a conversation with, but technically, unless you’re going around with a t-shirt that says “I’m queer”, you are “in the closet”, as in “not out”, to a person you’re meeting or getting to know for the first time.

This said, I have seen people using that word to mean - if I’ve interpreted it correctly - that Dean is either a) in the closet in relation to everyone; b) closeted to himself, so to speak, as in, he doesn’t realize and/or acknowledge and/or accept that he’s not heterosexual.

I don’t agree with either. Now, I’m gonna put here the disclaimer that this is my interpretation since Dean’s bisexuality/queerness is not stated textually in the show thus we’re talking on a level of signs and attribution of meanings (*insert something smart about semiotics*) and blah blah blah.

Allow me not to be specific with, like, references to lines spoken in the show in this post, maybe when I am done with my thesis and all will get the time to make a thorough analysis with specific references.

Now, do I think that Dean went up to his dad and told him “I like girls and guys lol”? ... Nope. At all. (But being closeted in relation to someone doesn’t really mean anything. Being out isn’t an all or nothing thing. You can go to pride parades wearing feathers and still keep it hidden from your dad. There are people who wait for their parents or grandparents to die before publicly coming out or transition. It’s complex.) Do I think Dean went up to Sam or Bobby and told them “I like girls and guys”? I don’t think so, as in, I don’t think he gave them a speech about being bisexual, but I think that both Sam and Bobby have at least a partial sense of Dean’s not-heterosexuality. Has Dean let his queerness known to people outside his family? Sure he has. On the top of my head, I can think of: Ash, Frank, Charlie (all hackers and queer or queer-coded, there is a pattern of association between hacking and queerness, but this is a thought for another day); Crowley was exchanging innuendo with him after 0.2 seconds of meeting and, well, Crowley has gotten to know Dean pretty intimately; and let’s be real there are characters who just looked at him and caught up because of reasons (Gunner Lawless comes to mind, I guess Aaron Bass, pretty sure Max Banes) and people who assumed and used it against him (the Campbells come to mind, no wonder the poor guy built 5739 walls around himself in season 6 and at some point was like “I was busy having sex with women”). It’s also implied that both he and Garth knew what the Purgatory in Miami was and that Dean expected Garth to get the joke, and Garth is another character that knows Dean beyond the façades. And then there’s a constellation of tiny moments that don’t mean anything on their own but in the context of what we know about Dean fit in the picture, like Jenna Nickerson feeling comfortable mentioning the first girl she’d kissed after knowing Dean for a short while.

At this point we’re left with “does Dean know he’s not straight” and, well, at this point it’s obvious but the thing is: Dean takes pride in his being anti-normative. Unlike Sam, he embraces his underclass identity, his not-normal identity. He acknowledges he’s a freak ever since day 1, and while he has heavy issues with the loneliness that comes with it, he uses it as an important brick in the construction of his identity. May I refer you to this conversation I had with @aslightsgoflashing and @f-ckyeahfutbol that touches this very topic.

Now, Dean’s relationship with his sexuality is extremely complex - we need, for instance, to count his experiences with sexual assault into it (I mentioned season 6 before, which also happens to be where he gets assaulted by a man in a sexually charged context, while I believe the other instances of sexual assault on him are carried out by women). Dean lives a life where is body is a) a commodity for the job, b) always at risk of being violated (in multiple ways, from wounds to possession). He’s always walking on a line between protecting his body and weaponizing it (it’s not a coincidence his body has been used as bait so often) and he that goes with sexuality too. He’s vocal in expressing knowledge of obscure kinky sexual practices, talking about how he’ll “try everything once” or whatever (but enjoying wearing pink panties is a secret...).

He builds his identity is a complex, ambiguous, ever-changing relationship with his body and his sexuality, and there’s nothing about him that suggests to me that he lives in a bubble where he doesn’t know he’s queer. Maybe he didn’t always (or ever) had the correct terminology for it or really conceptualized it, but in his twenties the guy knew his Pink Flamingos references (and Sam didn’t).

I think that among the reasons why Dean isn’t throwing himself at Cas’ feet and declaring his undying love for him, the fact that Cas has a dude body is, like, the last one on the list. I mean, I’m not saying he does not perceive men and women differently - he has different ways of relating to men and women due to the overwhelmingly homosocial context he’s lived pretty much his entire life, although he’s clearly developed a less sexist way of relating to women through the years - but his reluctance in opening himself to Cas is not due to some “gay panic” thing. I mean, it would be pretty diminishing to read it as just that.

So... well, these are my two cents on the topic :)