#WHAT IS GOING ON AM I INSANE???? AM I LOSING IT???

[fablesam]

picture you ;; sam winchester (part one)

cw; angst, psychic! reader & psychic! sam, not a lot just angsty! ((part two will have much more warnings trust))

do you picture me like i picture you?

am i in the frame from your point of view?;;

the visions started when you were just a kid, only twelve years old. they were small, uncontrollable things at first. you’d get a blinding headache, the occasional nosebleed, a brief dizzy spell, accompanied by a short glimpse of something. a scene of something seemingly unimportant; your friend tripping and hurting their knee, your father leaving the stove on. 

gradually, they got worse, darker. you saw your neighbors dog being run over, saw glimpses of your grandmother being wheeled out of her home by paramedics. they were random, days or even weeks before the actual event took place, but they were enough to set you apart, to isolate you. to make you feel like some kind of freak. 

you saw him for the first time when you were sixteen. among all the dark visions, he was a small source of comfort, a bit of light among the dark images you’d grown so accustomed to. you never saw him in any real, defining way, never enough to discern why you were seeing him in the first place. you kept waiting for something terrible to happen, to see this beautiful stranger dead, or to see him hurt someone else. 

you’d see him most often when he was smiling, at first. these moments always seemed to come when he was sitting passenger in a car with a boy you’d later come to know as his brother, dean. that was when he was happiest, listening to classic rock and laughing over something stupid. you’d learn to miss these moments of rare relaxation, of a happiness only known by a man who thought he had a chance to make it last. 

it was strange, yearning for someone you’d never met. you thought of him when you woke in the morning, and if you were lucky, you saw him before bed each night. the older you got, the more frequent the visions became; the more you learned to lean into it. this newfound ability had severed nearly all your relationships, leaving you almost entirely alone, except for him. 

you avoided friendships, not wanting more people to worry about, more people to imagine what the final vision would look like for. you hated your birthdays, just more reminders of the time you’d spent locked inside your thoughts. you often wondered how it was fair that your own mind was your greatest torment, as well as your only solace. 

the first time you saw anything off with the boy in your visions, he was in an alleyway covered in blood, knife in his hand. you were certain that this was it, the day you’d finally lose him, the day you’d be condemned to complete isolation. this image of him, strange glint in his eye, was so far removed from the peaceful boy you’d grown so used to seeing. you truly thought you’d finally lost it when the blade of his knife sunk into the chest of some creature, some thing that looked human but had these awful, gnashing teeth. 

this particular vision left you a mess of thoughts, a growing paranoia, a need to know more. your nights were spent feverishly researching, renting books from the library on the occult, the supernatural, all sorts of legends. it occupied your mind constantly, the thought that something like this was truly out here. worse than that was the idea that your best friend the boy from your visions was out there, fighting them.

you ached to be able to talk to him, to ask him what was going on, to ask if he felt as insane as you were becoming. this all consuming need led you to finally accept your visions for what they were; some sort of gift. you weren’t sure why, or how, you were chosen to see these things, but you were certain you could use it, to grow into it. you went from researching others to researching yourself, straining your mind to force visions to come into focus, instead of letting them find you. 

the first time you succeeded in this, you’d spent hours in your room, laser focused on manifesting this boy into your mind. finally, dizzy and exhausted as you were, you saw him. clear as day, sitting in that old car once again, arguing with his brother about something you couldn’t make out. you willed yourself to focus harder, as much as you could manage, just to make out his voice. his voice, god, it was everything you’d ever needed to hear. 

“i already told you, sam!” his brother threw one hand up, clearly frustrated, “this psychic shit isn’t normal, alright? i’m just worried about you, i’m supposed to be lookin out for you,”  sam. sam, psychic? your heart raced at that, at the implication of possibilities brought on by that one simple word. maybe he was like you, maybe he could see you, too. maybe you weren’t alone.

“i know you’re worried, but i’m telling you it’s fine, dean!” sam replied, exasperation all over his face, “if i thought i couldn’t handle it, i’d tell you. if it was getting worse, i’d tell you. but it’s not, and i’m fine. end of story,” you could’ve cried at the sound of him, angry as he was, at the relief of being able to hear him at all.

 you thought he looked perfect, in that moment. like everything you’d been looking for, right there in front of you, brought on by your own mind. you tried to ignore the surge of pride, the way you felt like more god than girl. you were just doing what anyone else would, after all. you were just discovering more about yourself. 

over the course of the weeks following, you spent all your free time trying to reach him. it got easier and easier, and soon enough, you were able to slip into a vision as simply as just reading words on a page. you yearned for him to see you, for him to know how hard you’d tried for him. you’d had no way of knowing, of course, just how powerful sam winchester really was.

a year passed, spent honing your abilities, before you felt that you’d developed them enough to look for him. to find him, to figure out what was happening, to finally know why you were seeing him at all. you laid across your bed, visions of him playing in your mind like a movie, when you saw it. the golden ticket to finally finding him. a road sign, just through his passenger window, fifty miles to erie, pennsylvania. fifty miles to you. 

you waited patiently, your mind racing as you tried to decide your next move. you can’t just approach him, you told yourself, can’t just say hi, i’ve been watching you in my mind for years. at a certain point of insanity desperation, you were past the point of caring. so you got dressed in what you hoped was suitable enough to introduce yourself, and followed the blinks of him until you found yourself at a dive bar just ten minutes from your apartment. 

you walked inside with baited breath, your eyes sweeping the crowd of people until they landed on him. it felt like time had stopped, like everyone else disappeared, leaving the two of you alone, finally. you could feel the rapid beat of your heart, the way your hands trembled, the possibilities racing through your mind. all this time, you’d searched. all this time, you’d been driven mad by your hunger. and here he was, in the flesh, just feet away.

you took a step closer, feeling strangely hesitant when this was all you’d ever wanted. like he could feel your presence, he turned to face you, and you could’ve told yourself you imagined it if you hadn’t seen his pupils dilate. “i know you,” was the first thing sam ever said to you, and it felt like the culmination of everything you’d ever imagined in your room alone at night. 

“you know me?” you repeated, looking up at him with shining eyes, “i know you, too, sam,” “we can’t talk here,” and suddenly his hand was on your back, gently leading you out of the bar, your skin burning through your sweater at the contact. you let him guide you, almost dizzy from the nearness of him. his presence was so overwhelming, so comforting yet so jarring. 

he came to a stop off to the side of the building, leaning against the wall, brows knit as he looked you over. “you’re real,” he said after a moment, his voice thicker than you’d heard it in all your visions, “you’re here. how are you here?” “i live here,” you told him, “what do you mean i’m real? you’ve seen me, too?” 

“seen you?” he repeated, a sarcastic laugh leaving his lips, “i’ve been looking for you for months. you were here the whole time?” you nod, watching the way his mouth forms words like it’s the most entrancing thing in the world, “how long have you had them? the visions, i mean. i thought i was insane,” he scratched the back of his neck, pausing like he was hesitant to even admit it. you thought back to his arguments with dean about his abilities, and you wondered for a moment if he felt like he couldn’t tell anyone at all. as if you’d ever make him go through it alone, as if anyone would understand more than you did. 

“they started when i was younger, like twelve or thirteen. it didn’t really get bad until a couple years ago, though. that’s when the headaches and everything started. can you do anything else?” you shook your head, keeping your thoughts of how you’d been trying to manufacture new abilities to yourself, “no, just the visions. i’ve never met anyone else who has them, yknow,” “me neither,” a sad sort of smile formed on his lips, “i’m sam, by the way. but i guess you already knew that,”

you laughed at that, at the ridiculousness of the entire situation, smiling as you told him your name. he repeated it, and you felt a chill down your spine, like every nerve was on end. “i’ve pictured this for so long,” you told him as an easy silence fell between you, “did you think about it, too? god, sam, i need you to know how much i’ve thought of this, of meeting you. i hope i don’t sound crazy, i just feel like if anyone could understand, it would be you, and-” he cut you off, resting a hand on your shoulder, and the small contact was enough to have you trembling. 

“i’ve thought about it too,” his voice was softer than before, like he was confessing some sort of secret, “i’ve looked for you, i’ve- i’ve thought of what i’d say when i found you. you’re so much more beautiful in front of me than in my mind,” he laughed slightly, his cheeks flushed like he’d embarrassed himself, “is that weird to say? this whole thing is just insane, i don’t know how to navigate it,” 

“you’re perfect,” you smiled around the words, and hot tears filled your eyes, tears of relief and shock and this overwhelming, sensationalizing happiness. being with him, finally,  was like coming home for the first time in months to find everything exactly as you’d left it, like praying to god every night just for your wish to finally come true. “i don’t really know what we’re supposed to do now, i really don’t care,” i really can’t bear to be apart from you, you rambled on, “i’d say we should get to know each other, but i guess we already do, don’t we?” 

“wouldn’t hurt to know more,” he gave you a half smile, “i’m staying at a motel up the road, we could go there. if my brother hasn’t already taken that bartender back there,” you laughed at that, scrunching your nose slightly, feeling once again stricken by the easiness of being with him. “my apartments not far, if you wanted to just come there. might be less busy,” you joked, and he nodded, no hesitation in his voice as he said, “yeah, let’s go to your place,”

he was a vision sent from below above, sat on the couch in your apartment, looking around at the decorations and taking in everything about your space. you allowed yourself a brief moment to recede into your mind, picturing a life where you came home to this everyday, a life where you and sam had met under normal circumstances, started a normal life together. you were only slightly ashamed to think of how you preferred it this way, preferred the intimacy the two of you had developed, the affinity you had for the man you’d only known inside your mind. 

it was better this way, you told yourself. no room for error, no room for growing apart, no room for rejection. it was only you and sam, inside this strange, unnatural bubble. you knew him in his private moments, in his desperate arguments for his father to stay, in his childlike peace when he was alone with his brother, no worries at their door. you knew him when he missed his mother, knew the pain he only allowed himself to feel when no one was there to witness. no one but you, of course. always you. 

“do you have family here?” he asked, breaking the silence you’d slipped into. you nodded, sitting on the edge of the couch across from him, “yeah, my dad lives on the edge of the city. no siblings, though,” “and your mom?” he asked, and your chest ached, the way it always did when she was mentioned. the way you knew his did, too. “she died when i was a baby,” you told him regretfully, “same way yours went, actually. house fire,” 

“you knew about my mom?” he looked slightly taken aback, slightly scared, for just a moment, and you nearly panicked at the way his eyes widened. don’t reject this, you pleaded with him in your mind, as if he could feel it. “yeah, i had visions of you and dean talking about it,” you nodded, “i’m sorry if that’s strange for you, i didn’t mean to pry. i couldn’t really control it,” 

it’s a blatant lie, but you know he won’t see through it. he doesn’t need to know the lengths you went through to get to know him better. not yet, anyway. “it’s alright,” he said after a brief moment of anxiety charged silence, “i know you can’t help it. it’s not like either of us can,” either of us. the words replayed in your mind like a sonnet. he knew, he knew it better than anyone, what you went through. sam was just another part of you, the only extension of you you’d ever known. 

you spent the next few hours talking endlessly, from anything to your school experiences to your visions to your favorite foods. it was so easy, so freeing, so right. it was like someone had made him for you, or you for him, you didn’t mind either way which came first. at some point, lost on you, you’d mustered up the courage to bring up the vision you’d had of him and the thing you’d later discovered to be a vampire. he didn’t look even the slightest bit surprised or affronted, just nodded, “dean and i hunt things like that; monsters. we’ve been doing it since we were kids. my mom didn’t die in just a house fire, actually. it was this demon, my dad’s been hunting it ever since. there’s things out there,” he paused, looking down at a scar on his arm that you longed to know the origin of, “horrible, twisted things,” 

“demons,” you tested the word on your tongue, having only read it in books, or on the dim light of your laptop screen, “so my mom, do you think she went the same way?” he looked at you so softly, so sympathetically, like he hadn’t gone through the same exact thing. you were struck by his selflessness, by his ability to want to comfort anyone after all he’d been through. “yeah, i think it is the same thing,” he said softly, “after i started seeing you in my visions, i tried to figure out how we’re connected. the same demon went after us,” “us? but they killed our moms,” your brows knit in confusion, “what would it want with us?” 

“have you ever wondered what gave you these abilities?” he asked, a seriousness on his face you’d only seen during his arguments with his father, “did you not wonder what did this to us?” you had wondered, deeply. there was a time when that was all you thought of, the only thing you genuinely cared about. you’d searched tirelessly, until you became so frustrated and angry that you couldn’t do it anymore. 

“yeah,” you nodded, “i do wonder, i just never got close to figuring it out, i guess. so what are you saying?” he looked at you, hesitating before placing a gentle hand on your knee, like he was bracing you for horrible news. you had a fleeting thought that sam could make a death sentence sound like a lullaby, like anything he said would be so glorified that it couldn’t even touch you enough to hurt you. 

“the demon that killed our moms fed us it’s blood,” he said almost regretfully, like it pained him to say it, “that’s what gave us these abilities. we weren’t born this way, it was- it was forced onto us. we were turned into this,” you felt a rush in your veins, something like waking up, but tamped it down so you could focus on sam, on the way he looked almost sick. “so there’s demon blood in my veins,” you clarified, shocked by the lack of shock you felt, by how much it made sense. you’d always felt like you weren’t completely normal, even before the visions started. you’d felt everything was mildly beneath you, like you were just going through the motions until you achieved something greater. like this life was just a stop for you, as if you had anywhere else to go. 

sam nodded, his thumb brushing against your knee soothingly, and you shivered slightly with the simple touch. “i know this isn’t easy to hear,” he said gently, “you can take all the time you need to process it. just please, don’t feel the need to go it alone, alright? i know it’s daunting, but this doesn’t make you bad. this isn’t condemning you,” you felt like he was speaking to himself more than to you, but you nodded anyway, thanking him quietly. 

this wasn’t condemning you, but the excitement you felt at the prospect of what you were truly capable of surely was. you tried to focus on anything other than the thrumming of your veins, of the way you felt warmed over, the burning familiarity of recognition all through your body. you finally knew what you were. 

“do you need to talk about it?” he asked softly, all concerned eyes and soft expressions as he looked at you, “are you processing it alright?” “i’m fine,” you said a little too quickly, “just thinking it over. i’m fine,” he just nods along, and you try to will yourself to stop wishing he’d ditch the whole we’re so cursed act. you don’t know if he’s just an exceptionally good person, or you’re just too easily bad, but a strange guilt makes a home in your chest regardless, replacing the yearning with something deeper. 

“so if a demon made us,” you hesitated, trying to find the best way to prevent sounding completely power hungry and insane, “then hypothetically, we would be stronger if we got more of its blood, right?” his hand on your knee stilled immediately, a sort of panicked, cold energy emanating from him. “hypothetically, yes,” he said like you pried it from him, like he was unable to lie, “but that would be a total misuse of our abilities, it would be a sin. we’d be abominations,” the words sounded so rehearsed, so preached, you had to resist the urge to ask who did this to him. who took this beautiful, terrifying, powerful boy and made him feel like he was doing something wrong?

 “our only sin would be curiosity,” you told him, and his hand slipped from your knee fully, leaving you with a cold seeped into your bones. “you can’t talk like that,” he said firmly, “do you understand? this isn’t natural, and to indulge in it- it would be wrong,” “wrong?” you repeat incredulously, “something did this to us, sam! they could hardly blame us if we just wanted to know more,” 

he stood from the couch, and a new wave of panic swept over you at the prospect of him leaving, your eyes wide and your mind desperate to make him understand. “you should be focused on how to get rid of this, not to make it worse,” he said, voice tight, “maybe this was a mistake,” 

the words struck you harder than a physical hit, and you nearly recoiled, tears pricking your vision. “a mistake?” you repeated, voice wavering, “sam, how could you say that?” his eyes softened at the hurt in your tone, and you could tell you almost had him, almost made him see. “this-” you gestured between the two of you, “this could never be a mistake. we’re meant to be, sam. this was inevitable, you couldn’t truly think it was a mistake, could you?” 

“i didn’t mean it,” he finally sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, taking his seat back with a silent resignation, “i just can’t let myself think of what could be, it’s not right. i hunt these things, i don’t- i can’t become one,” “sam,” you said quietly, and before you could stop yourself, you were at his side, your hand on his arm, “you’d never be anything other than good, okay? i know you well enough to know that,” 

he looked at you with such tenderness, such pure emotion, in that moment. like you’d taken his world and simplified it, like you’d opened a door he hadn’t known was there. you knew, then, that you had him; that sam winchester would follow you anywhere.

[matthewswifeyy]

After awhile you went quite, and I got mean 3

Summary: Exgirlfriend!reader lives with S4!rafe. She constantly has to watch rafe treat someone better and it finally gets to her.

Part 1 part 2

Sofia’s pov

“Why did he start dating a pouge?”

“The king kook? Dating a pouge? Pathetic.”

“His relationship was perfect before why did he break up with her for a pouge”

It was all I heard while working.

Thank goodness it was the end of my shift. I hate working at the country club. But I need a job. Even though I live with rafe doesn’t mean I’m going to stop providing for my family.

I walked to my car tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

I drive home with tears in my eyes.

Readers pov

I was half way through little women when I heard the front door open. I knew it was Sofia because she was always home a little bit more earlier than rafe.

Sofia walked passed the living room. Usually I just let her walk past. But her tear stained face caught my eye.

“Hey are you okay” I asked her.

“I’m fine” her attitude hit me like a truck.

I decided to let her he and I turned back to the tv.

A little while later I heard the front door open again. I watched as rafe walked past the living room.

“Hi” I said quietly.

“Hey” he said as he walked down the hallway.

I turned back to the tv again and continued to watch. I heard a quiet conversation happening before I heard the bedroom door open and slam shut. I flinched at the loud bang.

“Y/n come to the kitchen.” I could hear the anger in his voice. I got up quickly and walked to the kitchen. I fiddled with my hands as I did so.

“Yeah” I said quietly

“What did you do to her” he said as he pointed down the hallway.

“I didn’t do anything” I said looking up from my hands.

“Oh really. Than why is she in there crying?”

“I don’t know rafe. Maybe something happened at work.” I said as I began to return the same attitude to him.

“Don’t start giving game an attitude.” He said now pointing his finger my face.

“You’re not my dad rafe.” I said pushing his finger out of my face.

“I know that you are that you are the reason that Sofia is in there crying” he said as he continued to accuse me.

“Rafe for the last time I didn’t do anything to her at all.” I said starting to lose my temper.

“Will you just tell the truth for once in your life”

“Maybe if you just get your head out of your ass for once in your life then maybe you will see that I’m not lying to you” i yelled at him.

“That’s it! I am done with your shit Y/n! Pack your shit and get out of my house!” He screamed at me while pounding his fist on the counter.

I was shocked. Not only because he’s kicking me out but because I’ve never heard him scream at anyone like that before.

“You don’t mean that rafe.” Tear began to form in my eyes.

“Oh I mean it. Now go pack and get out.” He said leaning over the counter in my face.

“I don’t know what kind of spell she has you under but it’s making you go insane.” I said before running out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

I grabbed a duffle bag and started throwing random clothes in it. I couldn’t even see what I was grabbing from all the tears in my eyes. I grabbed a back pack and stuffed my hairbrush, charger, and other toiletries inside of it.

I grabbed my bags and walked out of my room. I slammed the door shut and stomped down the stairs.

“What are you doing?” I heard Sofia ask from behind me.

I turned around and just stared at her.

“Well Sofia because of you and whatever happened at work today that made you cry rafe thinks it’s because of me and he’s kicking me out!” I yelled at her.

Her face fell. I could tell she was shocked as well.

I turned back towards the front door and walked out. I got in my car and threw my bags in the back. Tears streamed down my face and I started my car. I wiped the tears from eyes and back out of the driveway.

I drove to the only house that I knew to go to. Toppers.

Topper and I were friends before rafe and started dating. We met in 5th grade and clicked right away. But the only thing is his new girlfriend Ruthie doesn’t like me very much.

I pulled in his driveway and parked my car. I got out and walked up to the front door. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Rafes pov

I was fuming. She’s never snapped at me like that and I’ve never snapped at her like that either. I was slouched in my office chair staring at the desk.

There was a soft knock at the door.

“Come in” I mumbled.

The door opened and Sofia walked in.

“Why would you do that rafe.” Her voice was sharp.

“What do you mean why would I do that I was defending you and now your made about it?” I looked at her.

“Rafe she didn’t do anything to me.” She said sitting on the desk.

“Are you fucking kidding me Sofia” I said standing up.

“Rafe I-”

“Don’t! Do you understand what I just did for you!” I walked towards her.

“Yes rafe I understand what you did.” She said standing up as well.

“You do understand she has nowhere to go right? This was the only place she could go and now you tell she didn’t do anything after I kick her out!”

“Rafe I didn’t ask you to do that!” She yelled at me.

“You probably wanted her gone, huh?”

“No” she mumbled looking down at her lap.

I scoffed and walked out of the room. I grabbed my keys from the counter and walked out the front door and drove to the country club.

Readers pov

Topper opened the door. I sighed in relief glad is wasn’t Ruthie.

“Hey I didn’t know you were coming here.” He said looking at something Inside then me.

“Yeah I’m sorry. Uhm can I crash here. Rafe kind of kicked me out.” I said looking down at my feet.

“I’m sorry he what?” He said looking down at me.

“I’ll tell you but uh can I come in” i said looking up at him.

“Oh yeah sorry.” Topper said opening the door all the way.

I walked in the house and made my way to the living room. I sat down on the couch across from topper and began to tell him everything that has been going on.

Topper then told me that I could sleep in the guest room for a while and that he would talk to rafe.

[mee1414]

Dog - CowardlyCrow is so life!Pearl coded, especially double life (ofc)

"What are you doing wrong? / Isn't it hard enough? / What am I doing wrong? / Shouldn't it be obvious enough" Shes so lost, especially in Double Life. She hides it, she acts like she knows, but shes always been lost. Since the first betrayal, since the first loss, it just grows with each death. She cant do anything right, she always loses everyone, she always outlasts the person she chooses to support and try to help win, or her allies betray her.

"I cant do anything right"

"What's gotten into me? / What is wrong with me?" The toxic ex, is that all she is now? Is all shes capable of only destruction and murder?

"I didn't know I could bite / Am I supposed to fear the fright? / Can I only love like a dog?" She didnt mean to hurt anyone. She didnt know she would be hurting Scott by going into the nether. She didnt mean to cause everyone around her to die. She only killed to keep herself and her dogs safe

"They're gonna put me down (Like a dog) / They're gonna put me down / They're gonna put me down (Love like a dog)" something something people target her because shes "too dangerous" or "insane" but she still loves and is loyal to a fault

Ohhh pearl and dog/wolf symbolism,,,

If someone has done anything with Pearl and this song please show me i wanna see

[calledbyflowers]

���taylor has a fleeting crush on brian” excuse me? taylor is insane about that boy. like ultimately im a wolfspider girlie in the same way that like ultimately im not a shinji-kaworu shipper cuz i think its a relationship which will not be the most conducive to the characters breaking out of their respective shells and learning to let themselves be vulnerable and let go of control/take control in a healthy way, respectively

but like i mean our girl tay she had some weird ass vaguely tradwife sexual fantasies abt him like really leaning into gender stereotypes fucking insane shit. and like while i think the yuri would be better for her and helping her escape the drama of herself like it is a fact that she is so crazy about him. but like in a way thats not good for either of them.

cuz like brians problem is that hes unable to take off the mask hes so bottled up, he cant feel. he needs to acknowledge his own needs and learn to live for himself instead of always acting in service of others. and like hes classic romance fodder a tragic hot figure who lives through fates worse than death and ends up broken and like thats fucking catnip. but like ultimately tay is slotting him into her fantasy she never really loses control of the situation and brian is such a.... yknow its a bit like shinji-asuka in a way? like brian is kind of a shinji and asuka is kind of a taylor? does that make sense?

who can say? but like ultimately what i mean is even if its a toxic ship i do think it is a textual ship like i think our girl tay is a bisexual queen and she both has a deep sexual and romantic tension with bitch and lisa tattletale which must go unackownledged due to the constraints of tehir World, the Absence of whcih suffuses the work, and also she is incredibly horny for this boy like: imago 21.5,

i like boys too i like i recognize this feeling this girl is fucking horny. its all so fucking corny unless ur feeling it and then its like "fuck... its so fucking corny but.... fuck... i am wet"

imago 21.4,

this is literally edward from twilight. perhaps u disagree to interpret the first person narrative as suggesting that worm is supposed to be more or less a description of tays story as she lived it and the fact that brian is described like a sexy batman whos kind of a daddy?

shes literally insane about him

and shes got some weird repressed tradwife shit probably something to do with her mom being a former lesbian seperatist which i feel like that could complicate taylors relationship to her own gender in some way her seeming lack of any genetic consciousness regarding it no thought of where gender comes from or how it is produced it is simply a given in her World and maybe that has smthn to do w her mom maybe adopting an attitude not of anti-femininism per se but of a seeming apathy and indifference to gender? such that her daughter seems to have little sense of gender as something that can be put into question. or like even more liekly taylors mom continued to be a terf without being a lesbian seperatist. and all thats gonna inform her relationship to what it means to be a woman and how she negotiates that.

and so like being a good liberal who believes in atomic selves she always needs to be in control thats the only way to make her existence livable is that she needs to have as much ability to finetune others as possible since then she can escape the hedgehogs dilemma and also shes just smarter and better than them and owuld be able to use their powers so much better than them? and i luv that for her. tay is so important to me.

and anyway i feel like saying tay has a "fleeting crush" is kinda understating it. and its corny and dumb and like its almost twilight energy and im so here for it i luv this shit but ultimately i think letting rachel dom her would be so much better for taylors spiritual development than being fucked by the boy who allows her to inhabit a kind of idealized domestic fantasy.

You know looking back at worm now that WB has come out as ARO is pretty funny. Can just imagine him in 2012 being like "what do you mean everyone doesn't just partner up with someone they somewhat like and have sex like it's scratching an itch? Just me?"

Everyone in worm is either ace or a predator like Sabah's stalker or Krouse. Taylor has a fleeting crush on Brian but that's about the end of the romance in the book.

[robbed-ghost]

“Damian isn’t ooc what are you talking aboutttt he’s only 14 and wants to trust his dad so badlyyyy guyssss don’t get upsettt” have you never read a comic with Damian in it in your life

[theoldkyokodied]

Uploading all my Tomgreg art at once from the past few week before season 4 hits, who knows in what kind of mental state i'm gonna be once it does :')

[starsillys]

cringe Kinito pet oc time ok

I know there’s definitely other sea urchin Kinitopet ocs somewhere out. There and I probably should of expected that before hand but Aourhrrrgh this stupid thing has grown on me guys I’m crasy anywhay this is it this is earl urrm,m,, it’s scare activity thing is still in the works but the general idea is below 👇👇👇👇

Also liettol human concept because I’m a sucker for humanizing unhuman critters

huurrhhhhhgggghhhoufhhhh

[walkawaytall]

Okay, I’m about to be real blunt: They literally are not carbon copies of one another, and it is so odd to me that this is commonly held fanon???

You know how I know they aren’t carbon copies of one another? Because Leia lost way more than Anakin did but doesn’t appear to have even been tempted by the Dark Side. She never knew her birth parents (which, okay, this appears to not have affected her much, at least consciously, but it’s still a really early, major loss); she didn’t even know she had a brother until they were adults, so I imagine there is a certain level of grief surrounding what their relationship could have been had they known each other their entire lives; she lost her entire planet — which includes the family that raised her, by the way, as well as every friend, pet, home, store, tree, and mountain she ever loved, not to mention all the people who she grew up knowing she would be responsible for one day; she had the man she loved ripped away from her and sold off to the space mob to be murdered for like a year; and she watched her newly revealed brother/close friend walk to what she clearly believes is going to be his death at the hands of Vader, who tortured both her and the man she’s in love with and cut off her brother’s hand. And that’s not even getting into all the misery that was heaped on her in the sequel trilogy or any non-movie material.

All of that happened to her, and she proceeds with hope and action. She doesn’t go searching for ways to make sure she’s never hurt again or go to extremes in order to keep those she cares about within her grasp. I’m sure one could argue that Leia has no way of seeking out the Dark Side for help because she doesn’t know she’s Force-sensitive. But she has ample opportunity to do what normal, everyday humans do when they’re afraid of feeling the pain of loss, which is isolate themselves or try to control the movements of those they’re afraid to lose, and she doesn’t.

Like, there are three years between A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back, and everything about the way she interacts with Luke and Han in ESB implies that she has maintained some level of affection and friendship with both of them that is different from her professional relationships. A deleted scene has her responding to the news that Luke is going to be leaving as well as Han by bemoaning the fact that she needs to learn to only rely on herself — meaning that is not something she’s currently doing.

And, while she is clearly affected by the threat of Han and Luke taking off, she also doesn’t appear willing to do anything extraordinary to stop them. She tries to talk Han out leaving, which is a pretty normal response for the insane situation they’re in, and she begs Luke in Return of the Jedi to not face Vader, but she doesn’t go to extreme lengths to keep either of them around even though their leaving clearly hurts her.

It seems like people see that Leia can react intensely/angrily, and because Padme doesn’t do really that, they default to her being just like Anakin. This is bonkers for a couple of reasons:

People are not required to be exactly like one of their bio parents. Like, I know George Lucas is a fan of mirroring certain characters, situations, etc., but there is not really any evidence that I’ve seen that the intent with Leia was to be analogous to Anakin (plus, he already did that with Luke! Or does Luke’s outburst during his face-off with Vader and Palpatine followed by his recognition of their similarities upon seeing Vader’s mechanical hand followed by “I am a Jedi, like my father before me” mean nothing to people???).

If you actually examine the situations in which Leia reacts with anger, they are pretty specific to life-threatening situations in which everyone is yelling at everyone, or a couple of times when Han is actively trying to antagonize her (which I feel says more about their ability to get under one another’s skin than it does Leia’s general state of being). Luke and Han are just as quippy and sarcastic and eye-rolly and impatient as Leia is a lot of the time, but her anger is often focused on, and I honestly think it’s because her character is being contrasted with an expected princess archetype. And that’s fine; Leia is a fun subversion of a well-worn character type. But Leia also chills out a lot when she’s feeling more secure/less threatened, and I would argue that’s probably closer to her “normal” than how she acts when she’s just spent a few days being tortured for information followed by being forced to watch the destruction of everything she loves. (She remains very capable, proactive, impulsive, and clever even when she’s less of a ball of anger, too, so it’s not like the tempering of that anger results in her being any less Leia-like on the whole.)

I just don’t see how Leia is considered “exactly like Anakin” when she generally makes good, non-possessive decisions while maintaining hope in the face of great tragedy, while Anakin has a history of doing the opposite.

In summary: a woman being a little shouty and sarcastic ≠ a man murdering innocent civilians and turning almost completely evil.

mourning leia and anakins potential father-daughter relationship because of how vader destroyed her is another level of tragedy

they will never know they are a carbon copy of the other

she will always (rightfully) hate him

[asterroses]

man they werent lying astarion does look softer when he's lookin at romanced tav in act 3 . what the fuck man

[skunkes]

i may be stupid

[bastardbeewoman]

I still can't believe they made a whole episode to deal about how Kazuki needs to allow himself to move from a past love and past life and then one of thr very last scenes of the episode is him coming home and then the camera focus on Rei and it is simply the most lovestruck, heartwarming and tender expression we have ever seen him doing in the anime

[funsize-cenobites]

Mihawk-Brain-Eating-Syndrome has seized me.

The post that started this whole train of thought came from @manofbeskar who's Mihawk thoughts, Mishanks heartwrenchers, and absolutely gorgeous art are so inspiring I feel chewing-on-the-doorframe feral every time I check their blog.

Mihawk has a complicated relationship with vivre cards. Yet despite all efforts at keeping the world and everyone in it at Yoru length he still manages to keep collecting bits of them.

Not many nowadays, its a rather intimate affair after all; to have someone give you a literal piece of their life so that you may always find them no matter where in the wide seas you may be. Assuring that you'll be the first to know should they leave that world entirely.

Far too intimate. It feels too obvious, too heavy handed, too much like handing him your heart and asking him to carry it. Such a thing is heavier than any blade and all the bloody deeds he can never truly wipe from the steel.

Its gentle and vulnerable and human. All the things Mihawk is convinced he could play at but never truly be again. But... I imagine at the start of his journey, maybe he was a touch more open. Perhaps accepting his first from a mentor as a parting of ways though he didn't yet have one of his own to offer in return.

Strange how a simple piece of card in his palm could feel like an open door. Always there, inviting him home. Always there, until it wasn't.

Mihawk will never forget the first time he felt one burning away into nothing in his hands. It went up so quick.. He had no idea it could take less than a minute to burn a home.

Then perhaps he found a crew, a more tangible place to nest and he suddenly had more vivre cards than he could tuck away on his person in a timely manner. Perhaps it became a ritual of sorts each morning, a part of his routine to tuck each one away. The captain, vice captain, and the rest of the specialists lining the inner band of his hat while the rest of the crew were individually squirreled away. A meditation, grounding and quiet. He would use it to remind himself of his role as the crew's swordsman, as their protector.

How could he forget the sharp sear of each individual card burning away, stuck close to his skin by waterlogged clothing as he dragged himself ashore gasping and choking on sea and blood and smoke. Having been left by marines that assumed he would drown because- perhaps pointed out by one that had deceived him, made Mihawk believe they were his friend to be led back to his family:

"No freak like that could exist without having eaten the devil's fruit."

How could he forget the embers escaping, dancing in the evening gloam like fireflies swarming around him? There were so many.. now there are none and gods he's been so empty since. How could such a small piece of paper take so much of him? To kill a man with a blade, even butchering him inelegantly, would be a greater mercy so long as he was dead.

Nowadays Mihawk knows better. Knows better than to trust or be trusted. That blades might chip and tarnish but they dont burn, never completely.

Yoru hums and sings in his hands as he wields her and she does not feel like home.. but she feels solid and eternal and cold. She will never burn. Her weight is bearable.

Impersonal.

Professional.

Yoru makes death an art in his hands. She is the brush not the paper, spattering fireflies over a night sky.

. . .

For years after, he kept far from others. Deciding to never get so close to anyone ever again. Safe in the knowledge he would never feel the burning sting of loss nor the cold cut of betrayal so acutely. Trust was a double edged blade, perhaps the only one he truly couldn't handle.

He was no protector.. so he wouldn't try to be.

Instead Mihawk would hunt. Chasing the marines mercilessly. Cutting a bloody path through their ranks and burning their fucking fortresses to the ground. At first they spoke of him as an insane lone swordsman, then a one man army, then a monster, a demon. The relentless yellow eyed freak that stalked the seas and nightmares of future vice admirals.

He systematically killed all those that harmed him. A shadow over the shore, a rogue wave swallowing their ships, a curse of vengeance come to reap. He destroyed all the records of his crew that he could get his hands on. If he must be cursed to slowly forget them over time, then the world government didnt deserve their memory either.

And so on it went for a time. Long enough for the hunt to lose its luster. Slaughtering sheep by the herd in search of a rare wolf.

Mihawk had almost forcibly forgotten about Vivre cards as a concept. His own remained untouched, never moving from where he hid it. He had no friends, no family, no nakama. Only a dwindling list of worthy foes to test himself against.

Until the day the king of pirates died. Until their golden age truly began.

Until he met Shanks, who held out a hand and asked him to step out of the monochrome past and into a thousand possible vibrant futures. Ones of lush reds and glittering golds, of polished onyx black and the purest, deepest blue.

.

"Here," Shanks said suddenly one night, holding out a small scrap of paper. The both of them were perched atop the ruins of a high sea wall on some remote island, enjoying the cold breeze from the north after a hard fought duel.

Mihawk, for all his composure, blanched. "What is that?" He knew and he did not take it.

"What do you think it is? Its a piece of my card." He said it so simply. Like it barely occured to him how precious such a thing was. Shanks didn't drop his arm, even as the silence stretched out between them.

"No."

"Come on, Takanome- Dont be like that! We're nak--"

"Rivals." He cut the younger man off abruptly. His chest felt too hot and too tight, burning and burning and, "We are rivals, Akagami."

Shanks must've been pouting, he could hear it in his voice, "Even more reason for you to take it. We could duel every day if you could always find me~ Come on.. Please? I want you to have it."

"...."

Hawkeyes glanced at his best friend rival and immediately regretted it. Shank's face was always full of so much hope, so much faith in... something.. It made Mihawk's heart catch in his throat every time to see those big earnest eyes staring at him almost as if, for a moment, it was faith in him.

"I don't know if I can give you mine.." He murmured. Shanks smiled soft, a little sad, and infuriatingly understanding without needing to know anything.

"I dont need it. I know you'll always find me." He pressed his heart, his home the scrap into Mihawk's palm and closed the swordsman's fingers over it. "And if I need to find you.. I'll just ask the wind."

[iivari-ii]

MY FRIEND GOT ME GAMBIT’S DEBUT COMIC OH MY GOD????

@r1ot-ghoul going so insane over this, gnawing the bars of my enclosure jESUS CHRIST

[thisisahyperfixationnow]

Get jumpscared it’s November 5th

(for everyone who got unexpected flashbacks because they forgot the date)

[gojooooo]

man i love open endings. the fact that thanks to yuuji there might indeed be the next time sukuna talks about in case some idiot decides to eat a finger again. and we need fics where yuuji is that idiot

[beanghostprincess]

Winry is way stronger than me because if somebody ever did something as intimate as this to me I would lose it so fucking fast I would start crying and kissing the shit out of Ed what the actual fuck