#They are worse than Chuck

[seefasters]

me when there are brothers who are lawyers (aa with bcs dialogue)

[clowningaroundmars]

POM posted a sneaky peek from the production room of a younger chuck with shorter hair when living back in deluxe and i just........ had so many young muckles feels man.

SO MANY

[roodllle]

I am so glad Miquella is actually morally gray like every other big player in the Lands Between. Also hate how there are people who wanted the choice to join Miquella; you wouldn't have gotten a choice, you would've been charmed!!

[didnt-hear-cold-as-you-live]

.

[lordstormageddidnt]

My favorite spn headcanon is that Chuck was so annoyed at how fast Cas fell-- in both meanings-- for Dean that he toned down/straightwashed Cas's internal monologue in the books. Like, every time book!Cas pushes book!Dean up against a wall, Cas's internal monologue is Pure and Holy and completely unaffected by anything. Cas can see right through it when he reads the books-- he knows exactly what he was thinking every time he stood a little too close to Dean or stared at his face while he slept. The teenage girls see right through it when they read the books. Dean, though...well, Dean probably wouldn't pick up on it until Cas admitted that, yes, he is in love with Dean, and yes, he was in love with Dean at the time the books were depicting.

Maybe it's a good thing Cas never saw that musical the girls put on, otherwise he might've told Dean that the only reason destiel is subtext is because Chuck left a lot of thoughts on the cutting room floor.

[ratatatastic]

scare the hoes more and keep yapping about ekky (& others) getting used to maffhew, it delights me. and say even more about how sasha handles this feral and sweet omega that gets dropped into his orbit. smth smth “feels like i’ve known him 10 years” or whatever vows sasha recited to the press, cameras, and god

apparently we are taking more tumblr user ratatatastic abo yap thoughts for 500 may god hear our screams up wherever he is. big man in the sky you fuckin owe me one.

i think theres so much in particular to say in concerns of 1619 and how quickly they gelled irl but even more so in an abo au

ive always enjoyed when people assign matthew stronger scents that take getting used to if you don't like it already and i know ive read a fic where his scent notes did skew towards stronger cinnamon foods/drinks

anyways on that note it wouldnt surprise me that sasha takes so easy to this spicy little omega.

Like of course he does, he smells like the pastries he used to eat back at home, the pastries he eats now because he's found an established Finnish bakery down here that makes them homemade every morning, the bakery he likes to frequent with the other Finns when he can.

Is it ever a wonder that the cute omega that sent him such a terribly sweet text when the trade news broke out (you know, after the initial excitement worn off because Sasha does chuckle at memory of the brash "Fucking, right!" that pinged on his phone the very first time from an unknown number) smells like... home... No matter all the rumours that have swirled around Matthew, the rumours Sasha has personally experienced himself playing against him...he smells nostalgic. Like Sasha could be at home right now—you know, home home—lounging outside his cottage with tea and pastries on the little table that he's set out. The warm cinnamon that wafts from the typically sterile room they've assigned for pressers smells divine, for lack of a better word. It smells indulgent. Because Sasha can't have those homely pastries all the time, what, with his training regiment.

It's why he doesn't quite believe it that Matthew's the one that's the centre of it all. He's absolutely convinced he's hallucinating because the season is about to start and he's had to cut back on all his favourite sweets as much as it pains him to but for the betterment of the team? He'd do anything. And yet despite the way he rubs at his nose to at least try to clear it, he smells that cinnamon. That cinnamon that's definitely coming from new omega they traded over who's laughing so obnoxiously at the lectern they have set up that if his scent didn't catch your attention, his loud mannerisms certainly did. His voice is practically bouncing off the walls in big loud echoes that should hurt Sasha’s ears. Emphasis on should. As it is he finds his heart melting more than it should instead.

It's been quite a long time since someone's scent has moved him this much. All the people that have, have been in his life for so long he's forgotten what it's like to feel instant scent compatibility. His nostrils are flaring and he's trying his best not to open his mouth to huff in big gulps of it because it's rather impolite to be so obviously scenting the new guy. It could be misconstrued as Sasha taking offence to the new presence in the room.

Some part of his brain is still trying to catch up to the idea that Matthew even smells at all because the first time he met him (down here for some joint offseason ice-time) he didn't particularly smell like much, if at all really. Whether it's because he put on blockers to not intrude on pack territory until he smelled more like them, or he was still on suppressants even in the summer, Sasha wasn't sure and he definitely wasn't going to ask about it.

Known him for 10 years? He feels like he's known him his whole life. But 10's a safe number, 10's a number that won't scare off this new omega, right? 10's a number that conveys "As Captain I want this to work out, I'm opening up my pack for you, I won't shun you, you're welcome here," and not "If I stick my nose in your neck right now to scent you, they're gonna have to forcibly evict me from the new home I've found in you, and it's not gonna be a pretty outcome."

It's also why he's a little nervous when Media Day is over because despite how much it dragged along in years past it practically blitzed by and now Sasha has to—

You know, properly scent the new addition. Give them the purring acceptance of their Pack leader's scent to carry with them. And it's nothing big, it's just some chaste wrist rubbing... something subtle and not too overwhelming for everyone: the pack, and the newcomer alike. It's not like Sasha is going to mouth at Matthew's neck glands. He doesn't think he can even handle that right now but that's a problem for future Sasha—for when Matthew is really part of the pack and not like a goldfish in a plastic bag being dunked into an aquarium to get used to the water temperature. He just has to rub his wrist against his, it's like basic Alpha etiquette. It'll be fine, mostly. He hopes.

And it's as anticlimactic as he thought it'd be: gentle reintroductions and reignited chatter of excitement about the new season that's about to start... maybe just with the new lingering scent of sweet and spice in the background as if someone lit up a candle without Sasha even noticing it. It's a struggle to keep his eyes from closing from how heavy they feel, from how relaxed he feels in the presence of this new omega he knows has pissed him off on several occasions as composed as he was about it.

Matthew presents his wrist in a flourish successfully managing to divert his attention back to what they're supposed to be doing all alone like this in the dressing room like this, "I'm sure you've been dying to do this huh, Cap?"

Sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. He knows? Sasha doesn't think he's been sending off any signals that could've hinted otherwise but Sasha admits that he's well out of practise, he hasn't had to reign in his scent this much in such a long time, and maybe Matthew picked up his weird fixation—

Matthew waggles his eyebrows for extra effect an offbeat later when the joke doesn't seem to land the way he wanted it to.

Oh, thank Christ, he's just teasing him. It's a joke. He doesn't actually mean it in the way Sasha thought he meant.

"Yes. Yes, I have," Sasha chuckles in relief, shaking his head at Matthew's attempt to lighten the mood.

"10 years, or so I've heard, bud."

"You heard? Uh, listened to the..." he trails off.

"Kinda hard not to when the setup made it sound like you were in the middle of the Earth, my guy. I don't think my ears are ever gonna recover from that."

"It's the first day for everyone," Sasha lightly chastises, not particularly aggrieved at all but wanting to keep up the banter to stall for time, so he can prepare himself. Quite honestly he feels like travelled back in time to the young anxious Alpha he was breaking out into the league for the first time.

"Be gentle, I bruise easily."

"Right, gentle. I'll treat you better than my clothes on the delicate cycle."

"Is that supposed to be a line?" Matthew says in glee, his voice pitching into incredulity.

"Line like fishing?"

"Oh, come on! You know what I'm talking about! You've been in this country long enough to pick up on that!"

"Yes, yes, that."

Matthew shoves at his shoulder playfully. "Just go on and do the thing already."

"Doing the thing."

Matthew snorts but his wrist is limp in Sasha’s hold. And as much as it was a dumb joke he does feel delicate between his fingers like that. So delicate that when he rubs his own wrist against his—to transfer over their pack scent—he feels like he's going to break it if he holds onto it for too long. It's why he drops it as quick as he took it, hands scrambling to his sides in an effort to remain polite but also to get a handle on himself so his pheromones don't go haywire with the new stimulus. It's a bit of a losing battle because he knows his scent just. But he can play it off as the excitement of an Alpha being able to claim another member to his pack, it's a possessive kind of thing.

"Well, see you around! Call it a hunch but I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other." And the joke wasn't funny the first time, truly the equivalent of leaning on the office fax machine and going "You come here often?" to your coworkers who just want to get their work done—and just as sleazy too with the greasy grin Matthew has permanently stuck to his face but Sasha still laughs like he did the first time he heard it.

And it's only now that Matthew is gone that Sasha realises the room smells strongly of cinnamon, so potent that anyone with a working nose would be able to tell that. Like Matthew was doing his best to ease Sasha’s obvious nerves when Sasha should've been the one to calm the omega who's been uprooted from their own pack and thrown into a completely new environment, himself.

"Jesus, it reeks in here. Smells like cinnamon," Aaron wrinkles his nose, wandering back in after his own media duties were done, finding Sasha all alone in the locker rooms.

"It does?" Like he can't tell the room smells like the equivalent of someone knocking over a Yankee Candle into an open fire.

"Yeah, like an awful lot." Aaron scrunching up his nose, trying to fight off an incoming sneeze. "It's strong," he says without thinking, swallows before his eyes shift over to Sasha and then to the floor, "Not bad just... strong..." The I can get used to it is left unspoken between them.

"I like it," Sasha admits because if Aaron is confessing to things without thinking then he might as well too. They've known each other long enough.

"I can tell." Aaron snorts, "You reek too."

Sasha lets out a questioning little noise, tilts his head to the side as he silently urges Aaron to continue.

"You have no idea what cinnamon and cardamom smell like together, do you? I feel like I walked into a bakery when I should be at the gym right now."

"Is that bad?"

"For you? No, of course not," Aaron's eyes soften, and while his scent wasn't anywhere close to abrasive, it does lighten up just a tad bit in the presence of his pack Alpha. "For me? I'd rather dunk my head in a bucket of coffee beans." A bit of an exaggeration on Aaron's part but the wry grin he has on really adds to the fact he's just joking—just a little, maybe there's some truth hidden in there. He knows how Aaron is, the way he tries to downplay anytime he bristles about something. Peace and vibes, and all that.

So Sasha can joke as well, "Forsy's stall is over there," and motions his head towards it across the room.

"Oh, hilarious."

"If I was funny I would say jock."

"You know, what? I think I will hit the gym today, thanks for reminding me."

"Mmm, anytime." And when Aaron's half out the door he adds, "Ask the staff where they put the jerseys we used today!"

"I'm going! To the gym!" he echoes back, not bothering to turn around as he shuffles down the hall in a hurry, and decidedly not going in the direction of the gym. It's not surprising when he hears chatter pick up and shoes scuffing briskly into the direction of the laundry rooms.

[tamlindudley]

Okay the more I think about it, the angrier I am getting. Not only did Chuck Fuck blame Blair for Jack when she went to him despite him making her skin crawl, doing something so terrible just to get Fuck his dumb hotel back !!!! but but buttt he thought they actually slept together, that she actually did the deed FOR HIM and he's happily taken his hotel back with no regrets thinking she actually went through with it and THEN when he finds out she didn't actually sleep with him, he's grinning and telling her then its all ok !! It meant nothing !! And he's trying to buy her back with gifts ??? I am actually about to throw things ????

[piplupod]

jesus fuck i just realized I'm going to have to be the one to attend the counseling appt tomorrow if Juno doesn't make a miraculous reappearance. fuuuuck i hate that sort of shit. plus what do i even say to her lmfao.

"hi so uhhhhhhhh. yeah we- er, i mean i almost committed suicide a few days ago but i'm fine now because the brain .... uh. switched - no, fuck, uhhhh... changed... changed something. and i feel okay now because of the... change. but the brain may change again at any point and it's kind of outside of my control but then the change can happen again if it becomes a problem. or something. anyways here's a rough sketch of the card we - i mean i am making for your grandson, how does it look?"

[jvnkless]

just call me, jack.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

*nudges boyfriend at 3 AM* pretty fucked up that we assume that chuck’s comment about dean being the ultimate killer is entirely wrong. he is the ultimate killer. chad? wake up chad. listen. chuck is only wrong about what being the ultimate killer means and consequently what parts of dean make him the ultimate killer

[jakeperalta]

I guess I'll just let the queue keep running whilst I go back to my work on the miniscule chance there are any left by the time it lets me in and emotionally prepare myself to try again tomorrow :(

[jamieontheroof]

i love how when we first find out that chuck is god he is holding a "worlds best dad" mug

[aro-ortega]

villain names

vanya: heartbreak

milo: power

sasja: terror

chuck: the challenger

xander: force

teddy: dionysus

josef: arbiter

[shrikeseams]

Not a headcanon or anything with a textual basis,, but.. still chewing over the idea that, if you take the silm as a potentially-biased historical narrative, then Eru might have had nothing to do with the sinking of Numenor

What part of the observable events of the Drowning is beyond the Valar's previously demonstrated power? They sculpted the world. They've already drowned Beleriand.

They also made their priorities pretty clear during the Years of Trees and the First Age: They want Aman safe. They would like to have some elves with them in Aman! But the priority is preserving Aman. Any actual inhabitants of the world (the alleged children of Eru) are secondary at best. They'll send like, one Eagle strike force per century. They'll give the elves some advice. (But only a few! And only elves! No hidden cities or safety or blessings for mortals! With a possible exception for Aule and the dwarves.) But priority number one isn't Arda. It's Aman.

I mean. I could maybe accept the First Age. I think it was a cowardly dereliction of duty from the people who literally claim to rule all of Arda! But maybe an understandable one. They're not used to fighting wars with the little embodied people running around being vulnerable. They're afraid of doing more harm than good, until it becomes apparent that they've let Beleriand become a gangrenous limb, and the only option left is amputation.

But by the time Numenor takes a swing at them, they've already done the War of Wrath. They should have plenty of veterans from Beleriand capable of running a land war. They have a home field advantage and they literally control the land and sea. Numenor should never have even been able to make landfall! No sinking or land combat necessary! Hell, Unien wrecked a bunch of swanships without even trying! Just let her and Osse and their pals play naval defense blockade until a generation or two of mortals die and the society chills out! No divine fate written in the Song to win that war. Numenor was always grossly out-classed.

There is literally no excuse to call Eru. It's a weird over-reaction!

You know what is... frankly still an over-reaction, but less of one than panicking and calling dad? Deciding that Numenor is another gangrenous limb to be amputated! Going "Oh hey, last time we let this drag on way too long. We should just obliterate the land mass right from the start!"

And from there it can go two ways. If you're pro-Eru, then he puts the Valar in time-out on a not-quite-seperate plane of existence. They’re on strict limited visitation rights (just enough to sneak a few maiar past the borders). If you're unconvinced that Eru is paying any attention at all... well. I'll be honest. I think the people who built the whole dang world and also fenced off their personal continent to keep the riff-raff out for 500+ years are probably actually capable of altering the world so nobody can even reach the fences around their secret hide-out.

And like. If you were the survivors after they smashed (another!) continent... wouldn't you smile and nod when they told you it was all their boss's decision?

[egginfroggin]

Ingo and Emmet, by the timemost of the fic takes place in the Mistborn AU, have certain strengths and weaknesses, and certain parts of their respective fighting styles that are rather unique.

This got so long. I thought too hard.

Got some claustrophobia stuff here, too.

Anyway:

Ingo's main weakness is that he is essentially a false Mistborn and does not, in fact, have the ability to burn all Allomantic metals. He gave himself the ability to burn metals other than iron by way of Hemalurgy -- specifically, by using slender pins, like very large needles.

(There's a certain irony and logic in the fact that he hunts Steel Inquisitors and yet has made himself into something resembling the same thing that he seeks to eradicate)

As such, there are certain things he's unable to do -- tracking someone by sensing the metal they burn, for example, or hiding his own use of metal. Most of the metals he burns are very noticeable -- steel and pewter, for example, though he also uses tin to amplify his senses for the purpose of self-preservation.

Also, claustrophobia. Very bad claustrophobia. He will panic if he's shooed into an enclosed space, especially at night -- an alley, an underground tunnel, a small room, anywhere small and confined.

Emmet's main weakness (outside of his linchpin) and is the fact that he constantly burns tin. As far as I can recall and tell, Steel Inquisitors don't really see normally -- having metal stakes driven into your eye sockets will do that to you, I guess -- and instead "see" by way of sensing metal. So, the presence and absence of metal. I think.

(One of the twins clocked him in the face with a brick, once)

(No you don't get context) (yet)

This is something that he's gotten used to, but being unable to see what's around him makes him exceptionally uneasy at times -- especially because of the fact that his hearing is not the best. It isn't the worst, but it is not the best, either.

Thus, he burns tin. It's almost constant, giving him an edge by letting him pick out the sounds of things nearby, such as sneaky little gremlin twins or murderous brothers or similar such threats. But this is for picking out small sounds -- he uses quite a bit of tin, as a result, and his hearing can be very sensitive at times, to the point where overly loud noises can be debilitating until he stops burning.

Now, fighting.

Ingo is very nimble, and accurate when moving via iron and steel. He's acquired quite a bit of flexibility and precision with his movements -- a lingering result of squirming around underground and trying not to shred his arms completely when reaching for atium beads in the Pits of Hathsin -- and when firing coins.

But here's where he gets fun.

His steelpush isn't the most powerful -- imperfect Hemalurgy, the pin spending too much time outside of his body, and such, has made it so. Coins are good, convenient weapons, but what about other pieces of metal, like shrapnel?

What about adding poison to the mix?

He wears gloves -- thick leather gloves that the shards won't cut through. The shrapnel cuts through skin with far less force than a coin, and if he's decided to use poison, well, isn't that convenient?

(I just really like the idea of Ingo knowing a lot about poison and toxins; it's fun, and in this case, I feel like it's something that's plausible)

Emmet, on the other hand, excels at close-quarters combat. And if he is given a weapon, he will dual wield. Knives? He's got two. Probably four, just in case one of them breaks. He knows when to flare pewter to hit especially hard, relying on his own natural speed and skill to get close, and when to burn it in the background to dull the pain of any wounds, to conserve what he has.

He hits hard and he hits fast, and you'll probably have either broken bones or a good number of lacerations by the time he's done with you -- if you're still alive.

Anyway, I just think these guys are neat. And that the idea of Mistborn using shrapnel in place of coins would be terrifying.

[super-done-dead]

every fucking day. every fucking day, I’m putting litter that has been kicked to the floor back into the damn litter box