#Well this was longer than I intended

[elidoesntbreathwee]

MK MK MK imagine with me

he has those round glasses, like these

and he only wears them at his trailer and stuff cuz his eyes arent that bad. But one time, Steve comes over and Eddie's wearing glasses, and Steve's never seen him in them before. So when Eddie opens the door for Steve, Steve is just standing there, in awe, checks red, and he's like this for a solid 5 minutes.

Eddie's just confused af because he doesnt know if he did something or what.

Eventually Steve stops gawking, he walks through the door of Eddie's trailer, still red in the checks. He's completely forgotten what he was even doing there cuz all he can think about is Eddie's face with glasses on.

Eddie is now genuinely concerned for Steve

"Dude, you ok"

Steve Just stares at him again for a bit then finally answers.

"Uh, yeah, i guess."

" Ok, if any of those dumb flash backs or whatever start happening, tell me, though"

After the upside down, they've both been getting nightmares and flashbacks, especially near pools. Eddie had been afraid that Steve saw something that sent him spiraling into another flashback.

"Yeah, I will. But I'm fine. I- just. Your face..."

Eddie's nose scrunched up a bit and his eyebrows tilted slightly; his face looked all around confused.

"My... Face?" Eddie pointed to his face.

"Yeah, your face. It looks good. With those, I mean."

Steve moved closer to Eddie and touched the frame of his glasses.

"Oh, my glasses! You like?"

Eddie smirked, but Steve just looked at him, straight in the eyes.

"Yeah. You're beautiful- I mean, *they're* beautiful... on- on you. yeah"

Steve, for the most part remained eye contact, except for a few glances slightly downwards toward Eddie's mouth. His whole face went red after realizing what he'd said.

"Oh, you like my face, Big Boy?"

Eddie said it sarcastically. He meant it sarcastically. Steve didn't take it sarcastically. He gave Eddie a light kiss on his lips. Eddie's eyes went wide. His face went red.

" Sorry, I- You- I should leave, um" Steve started to pull away from Eddie to leave.

"No! I mean, it's ok. I liked it." Eddie's eyes were looking everywhere but at Steve's.

"Then, can I-" Steve took off Eddie's glasses and set them on the table beside the Munson's couch. Steve kissed him again, this time pressing his lips onto Eddie's. Eddie kissed him back. After about a minute or so they broke the kiss for air.

"Wow. You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that" Eddie said, still gasping for air.

"Bet you didn't expect me to do it first." Steve smiled and looked in the other boy's eyes.

"No, I really didn't. Probably should have expected it though." Eddie smiled back

"To be fair, i didn't expect me to do it first either." Both boys laughed for a bit. Steve was honest, and that was hilarious, i guess.

Once they had both stopped laughing, Steve looked at Eddie again. Eddie could tell what he was asking and nodded his head. They both kissed again and only stopped to breath for air.

How long did this go on, you ask. Well, let's just say that by 1:30 am, there was a very shocked Wayne Munson, and 2 very embarrassed boys.

I know we all love Steve-with-glasses but consider this

Eddie with glasses

[empressofthewind]

Honestly it always makes me a little upset when people say Near is a copy of L/too similar to him, because as much as that's the point of his character, I also don't even think it's that accurate?? Visually he's similar, but in personality, there are a lot of key differences that get overlooked in favour of the cosmetics. Their treatment of Light/Kira is a major one that comes to mind, with regards to the notable respect L shows towards Light and his methods. Near is also quite a bit more expressive than L; L mostly alternates between "deep in thought" and "mildly annoyed", with some minor flexibility outside of that, whereas Near has a distinct look of excitement when things are going his way, looks distraught when his team members die, and gets angry several times to the point of physically breaking things. Near's manner is more blunt, and he's a much bigger nuisance to Light on the basis that he's more inclined towards brutal honesty, whereas L is a notorious liar with a habit of deception. Near also focuses more on morality in his approach to the Kira case, and doesn't have the same ego or personal investment in detective work that L does. L is a lot more physically active than Near too, with his record as a tennis champion and occasional tendency to pace while speaking. The move to enrol in college, for example, is not something I could ever see Near doing. Near was specifically groomed to be L's successor, so there's definite overlap in their attitudes and methods, but they're actually quite different characters if you look beyond the surface, and I think it's important to treat Near as a unique character who takes on L's role rather than an outright clone.

[commsroom]

circumstances surrounding the “leaked” documents about eiffel’s sentencing in need to know, as i understand them:

one of the very first things kepler does is offer eiffel, minkowski, and lovelace a drink. in true “at any given moment, kepler has about eighteen ulterior motives” spirit, it is, among other things, “hospitality”, sure, a test for eiffel, definitely, but… i think the main reaction he was checking for was minkowski’s. will she look at eiffel, or react to his reaction? how much does she know? how much does he trust her?

in don’t poke the bear, jacobi and maxwell stop lovelace from breaking into kepler’s server by pretending to be in on it with her: “she’s very good. it might turn into a problem.” / “i’ll run it by kepler.” two episodes later, files from kepler’s very secure server are “leaked.”

(the words "need to know" are spoken offhandedly by eiffel in the episode itself, but it also calls back to the excuse maxwell gives lovelace: "colonel kepler practically lives by the words 'need to know.' and, apparently, nothing i can say will ever convince him that i 'need to know' everything that's in our databanks.")

need to know opens with minkowski finishing an eleven hour shift, and then finding out kepler moved that shift to, well. now. she’s already frustrated and sleep deprived.

minkowski complains to kepler. jacobi and maxwell, on cue, barge in and complain to kepler. kepler assigns minkowski, jacobi, maxwell, and lovelace to punishment detail, taking eiffel out of the group because “you’re the only one who hasn’t wasted my time with pointless whining.” lovelace says: “um, i don’t think that i did any complaining either, so…” but that doesn’t matter. it’s just an excuse to remove eiffel from the group; he could just as easily have been singled out for special punishment. either way, it was going to happen.

hilbert isn’t there. not the most significant factor, since he’s already been effectively sidelined by kepler, but remember he already knows about eiffel’s sentencing, doesn’t care (about eiffel’s history OR about anyone else’s personal drama), and will later respond to minkowski asking by telling her to grow up and get back to work. it simplifies things to not factor him in.

consider the files themselves: we know from happy holidays that maxwell not talking to her family is common knowledge, but jacobi reacts like it’s news. we know from hera’s performance review flashback in memoria that kepler and jacobi were aware of “multiple attempted crew member homicides” in her record. the file about hera’s bentham directory was on kepler’s server. if there’s one person who would’ve been briefed on everything there was to know about hera, it would’ve been maxwell; her shock is entirely feigned. in fact, almost every reaction from jacobi and maxwell here is feigned. they’re black ops specialists who arrived prepared with divide-and-conquer tactics. there’s no reason they wouldn’t know these things. also note that none of the “leaks” reveal anything about the mission they didn’t already know, and that nothing about the si-5 is incriminating - if anything, it’s mostly silly and even humanizing. and, yes, all of that contextualizes maxwell’s reaction to “skiing?!”

eiffel’s file comes through last, once they’re already worn out. kepler sends eiffel to check on them at the same time so that he’ll walk in. jacobi shows minkowski the file. he lurks around waiting to see how her not-confrontation with eiffel goes, and then cements the thought in her head: what about you? are you going to care?

it’s true that there are aspects of the mission only kepler knows, but as far as information on the hephaestus crew goes (barring one very particular detail about lovelace)? that’s part of the job they were chosen for. when they kill the plant monster, kepler says: “you think we didn’t know about that thing? please. we listened to every log that you beamed down to canaveral.” kepler’s entire foundation is shaken when jacobi turns on him because this is how they operate: “have one person take the blame, say the mean things. meanwhile, the poor, betrayed little guy gets a bit more leeway - just enough to sneak up and hit you from behind.” the show is not subtle about any of this. you can pick apart any early-s3 interaction between two hephaestus crew members and an si-5 agent and see the same divide-and-conquer tactics at play. jacobi and maxwell are always - in morals, loyalty, job description - closer to kepler than they are to the hephaestus crew, and to even sort of believe otherwise is falling for that facade. it’s worth remembering that the hephaestus crew are prisoners. some of them were aware of it from the start, and some of them were lied to, but none of them were meant to leave. the si-5, on the other hand, went up there with a unified goal, and the knowing intention they would be, among other things, prison guards.

[cowboygideon]

I love so much how every time we see art and patrick before knee-gate, they're eating (or drinking) something "unhealthy." Like the hotdogs and the churros and the cigarettes, of course (which I'm now realizing are all phallic symbolism LMAO) plus the coca-colas and the beer. Because it just furthers this idea that Patrick is a kind of corrupting force to Art, who we know, as Ice, is a very controlled person. And then, during their final game, you have Art with his fuckass protein paste, or whatever, but Patrick with the banana, which obviously isn't unhealthy, but still something much more akin to the food of your average person—and he offers it to him! Jokingly, yeah, because he knows he's not going to take it, but also, like offering his hand, inviting Art to take part in his own corruption once again. Plus, a banana?? Could they have found a more dick-like food? Insanity.

Also I like that the one scene we have of the throuple in a room together (the party notwithstanding), Tashi is also drinking the beer. Because Patrick stokes the fire in her too, brings out a part of her that Art alone doesn't.

I was thinking about this because I saw a cut scene in the script, where Tashi and Art smoke a cigarette, and I found it really interesting. Because, for one, I understand why they'd cut it, since such a big part of the artashi dynamic is restraint, repression, both pushed further into the frigid parts of their personalities, so having them do something like that without Patrick around might remove some of that. But ALSO I think it was such a good scene because they both start coughing during it, and it sort of feels like their trying to make up for Patrick's absence with each other, but they fail. They need Patrick to push them completely out of their comfort zones—or else they'll just keep toeing that line between the familiar and the unfamiliar, safety and freedom.

Anyway, in conclusion, welcome back Adam and Eve and that fucking snake, enjoy your apple [polyamory].

[apathetic-kiss]

The Rosier Family being social outcasts amongst the rest of the Sacred 28, not out of disgust or betrayal, but rather due to how the other families hold a morbid curiosity and slight fear towards the pure-bloods who seem to isolate themselves more than any other family.

For as long as anyone could remember, the Rosiers produced peculiar looking heirs; they all shared the same bone-white hair and gaping eye-bags, facial structure like fine china and long, bendy limbs. The children were always strange, seemingly intellectual and wise beyond their years, darkened pupils that seemed to stare into your soul if you made eye-contact for too long. They would chatter amongst themselves, rarely talking to the other pure-blood youths, preferring to whisper to each other in soft mumbles and squeaks. The Rosier children were never sent to Hogwarts, and rarely attended pure-blood banquets and balls. If they did, they trailed behind their parents and hid away in corners, blending in with the cryptids and ghosts which seemed to haunt every old wizarding mansion. When they aged, the Rosier offspring tended to become even more hermit-like; there was no presenting a daughter to society, no celebrations of a boy coming-of-age in the same way there was in other pure-blood families. They instead would disappear from pure-blood society for years at a time, their parents or aunts or siblings airily mentioning that they were abroad at the time.

In adult-hood, it was said the Rosiers only had one path of employment, and that was none. The blood-line was made up of inventors, of researches and explorers and users of dark magic, of witches and wizards who travelled the world and did unspeakable things in the name of discovery. Whispers existed amongst the Sacred 28 in regards to what the Rosiers had managed to uncover, invent, and twist their magic into, with rumours of anything from successful immortality, inter-species breeding, artificial life, and spells, hexes, and potions beyond one's wildest imagination. Whenever a Rosier died (as very few of them seemed to make it to old age), it was usually due to a tragic accident, a spell gone wrong or being mauled to death by a mysterious creature, a mix-up of potions or something along the lines of accidental, self-inflicted insanity. The private events such as funerals were barred from anyone outside the family line, preventing any further investigation into the births, lives, and deaths of the Rosiers.

The exception was if there ever was to be a union of two families when a wedding was held on the mysterious lawns of the Rosier mansion. Even then, it was kept relatively private, with only the immediate family of the non-Rosier spouse allowed to be in attendance, and the presence of a single writer to detail the events of the ceremony for the Sacred 28's records. However, weddings only ever seemed to happen once every forty years or so; there was only usually a single sibling married in a generation, the others dying mysteriously young or pledging themselves to their work for all eternity. It was as though the Rosiers only ever interacted and joined with another family for the sake of continuing the blood-line, and other than that would rather stay hidden away on the acres of property and endless wealth accumulated by the family over the generations.

The birth of twins Evan and Pandora Rosier was kept a secret from the rest of the Sacred 28 until their fifth birthday, when their mother brought them along to a morning tea hosted at a pure-blood mansion for the women to discuss the current political sphere of the wizarding world. The other women were shocked when Céline Rosier floo-ed into the mansion, her first public appearance in almost six years (they always invited her and her husband to events out of obligation and politeness, but the two very rarely showed to events. Secretly, the other family members were always slightly relieved when they didn't.). They were even more surprised at the addition of two white-haired children clinging to her robes, who she whispered to softly and sent outside to the court-yard to see the other children. Céline's sister, Druella Black, embraced her tightly, though the fury at her exclusion from her sister's life ever was apparent on her face; the family had cut her off both socially and financially after she chose to move to the Black family mansion instead of raising her children on the Rosier ancestral land. People had whispered about how this apparent betrayal to her roots and her aligning with the Black family instead would place a curse on her and her children, the rumours already whirling after her boys were born and were missing the signature pale hair; Druella had dyed her hair black the day after Sirius was born, a sign of rebellion against anyone who dared question her allegiance to the Blacks. Still, as they grew older, the lack of resemblance between the Rosier twins and the Black boys became more and more apparent regardless of the closeness in blood relativity. Nobody dared bring up the curse again, and Druella's maiden name and the history of her roots was never mentioned in Sacred 28 circles again.

Evan and Pandora grew up the same way generations of their ancestors had; isolated, surrounded by books, and most of all, alone. Their parents spent most of their days locked away in their own workshops, the job of child-rearing left to various members of staff and random family members who lived around the property. There were always wizarding scientists and researchers and medical professionals popping in and out of the mansion, some staying for tea and some staying for six months at a time, some who ignored the children and some who taught Evan everything he knew about potions. Though some would argue that this was no way for children to grow up, the twins would disagree; they had free-reign of the giant house and surrounding property, no bed time or limitations and complete access to their family library which had been accumulated over centuries to house over twenty-thousand books and manuscripts. When Pandora was eight, she decided she was going to read everything in the library before she died, even if it took her reading all day every day of her life (she gave this up not even twelve days into it, when had Evan begged her to put down the books and come camp down at the creek with him. She had obliged). They spent the first eleven years of their lives reading constantly and desperately, devouring novels and spell books and potion guides and studies on muggles and wizarding magazines and whatever they could get their hands on. They made potions and taught themselves non-verbal magic, experimenting with animals and transfiguration and manipulated all kinds of elements and metals and objects. They never learnt the distinction between light and dark magic, it all seemingly just a tool for them to learn how to further their skills. It was an incredible way to grow up according to them, and they wouldn't have changed it for the world. But before their shared eleventh birthday, everything had changed.

When the pair woke up and received their Hogwarts letters, they had simply tossed them to the ground and gone on with their day; Hogwarts was irrelevant to them, and only existed vaguely in their peripheral thoughts as something that other magical children were a part of. However, that night when they sat down for a very rare family meal, Céline had announced that the twins would be starting at the boarding school in September. That decision was final. After some push-back from her children, she had shut them down with a no-arguments look and the twins fell silent. They looked at each other with slight hesitation, not knowing what the hell to expect from this switch-up in the routine and life-style they had known all their life. That summer, Pandora had buried herself in books and journals written about Hogwarts and by Hogwarts students, attempting to learn and memorise everything she could about the school and its history. Evan on the other hand, was in complete denial; he shut down any mention of the school by his mother or sister, and refused to engage in Pandora's discussion about aspects of the curriculum or what their experiences at the school may be. He spent most of his time leading up to their departure for Hogwarts locked in the upper rooms of the mansion, experimenting on frogs and rats and mice as he perfected more spells and potions he was working on (though he did occasionally allow Pandora to join him and help work out the flaws in his potion-work, as long as she promised no mention of their upcoming time at the educational institute that will not be named).

The first problem that came along at Hogwarts was the expectation that they mingle with the other pure-blood families; they had only very rarely interacted with other children, and so the idea that they were supposed to befriend and talk to these other pure-bloods was an alien concept to them. Evan and Pandora had spent a little time with Regulus and Sirius as kids, but the brothers were already sitting with Sirius' Gryffindor friends in another carriage. However, this did mean the twins had an excuse to sit alone together and bury themselves in books (Pandora in her now-battered copy of Hogwarts; a History, and Evan in a definitely illegal book on the anatomy of various creatures and how to best butcher them for black-market sale).

The second problem that arose for the twins was the discovery at the sorting ceremony that they were to be in different houses. Evan was called up first, and the whispers had already begun about which house the first Rosier to ever attend Hogwarts would be in. The hat barely touched his head before shouting out Slytherin, and he had made a bee-line for where Regulus was seated with the other first years on the table. However when the hat was placed on Pandora's head, it had deliberated for a few seconds before calling out Ravenclaw. Evan had felt his face drop and the his look of horror matched Pandora's own; there was nothing wrong with Ravenclaw of course, but the awfulness of not being in the same house as his sister was something that hadn't even crossed his mind. They had spent their whole lives together, they were attached at the hip, they were practically the same person, right? Right? He watched Pandora drift over to her house table with a mournful look on her face, nodding with fake reassurance at her when their eyes locked. They would make this work.

The third problem Hogwarts presented the twins was the issue of their apparent disconnection from the rest of the wizarding world. Though this was something that had never bothered them before, and something they had in fact felt proud of in their childhood, it was now becoming a problem. Evan had never shared a room with anyone aside from Pandora, and his social skills... left room for improvement. His room-mates, Regulus and Barty, thought he was a total asshole who hated the both of them, when in reality he simply didn't understand the premise of politeness; he and Pandora had always been brutally honest to one another and to their parents, and this just seemed like the norm until he arrived at Hogwarts. Pandora's roommates on the other hand seemed to catch on to her apparent otherness immediately, and quickly shunned her from their group for being weird and creepy (it actually took Pandora a few weeks to catch onto the fact that they were being mean to her; she just figured the other girls were ignoring her out of nerves, the same way she was anxious every time she tried to start a conversation with them. She discovered this was not the case though after the fifth time she had tried to talk to one of them, and they had all left the room giggling and pointing at her). Neither of them made any real friends in their first year, and were utterly miserable.

Things perked up in their second year. Regulus had gotten into a fight with Sirius over summer and the two were no longer on speaking terms. Barty's presence had started to become truly annoying to Regulus, so Evan and Pandora became the only ones Regulus deemed appropriate company as the two were happy to sit in silence and read together. Pandora also managed to befriend an older Slytherin girl, Dorcas, as the two had striked up a conversation about Herbology in the library and become study partners. Dorcas was struggling in her third-year potions, a subject Pandora was well-versed in and knew all kinds of tips and tricks in. Pandora was barely passing Defence Against the Dark Arts as the theory was mind-numbingly boring to her, but luckily it was Dorcas' best subject. Evan and Regulus were quickly added to their study group due to their proficiency in other subjects, and when he could be convinced to shut up, Barty would sometimes lounge on a nearby table and pretend to do work. How he managed to have the highest grades of all of them, that was the true mystery.

Their little rag-tag group of five only grew closer over the years at Hogwarts, and stuck together through all the triumphs and traumas. They were there for each other when Dorcas was made quidditch captain, when Sirius ran away and Regulus was left alone, when Evan and Pandora's mother died in fifth year, when Regulus was made a prefect, when Dorcas' sister contracted a terminal illness, when Barty came back from Christmas break with red marks up and down his back. They were there for each other through it all, and Evan never knew the meaning of found family until their group of five found each other; to the Rosiers, family was blood and blood was family, end of story. He had never known there was an alternative, but he didn't care; his mother and father had never held him when he cried, but Dorcas had wrapped her arms around him after he broke down thinking of his mother being lowered into the ground.

And, after everything went down and everything went to shit, Regulus and Barty had held him in the shower as his shoulders shook, terror and fear and mourning wracking his body as he thought of Pandora. His beautiful sister, the most important person in his life, the other half of his soul had denounced him, had said she would kill him herself if she ever saw him again, had screamed at him with ferocity unseen ever before after seeing the tattoo that now decorated his forearm. She'd refused to listen to him and his pleas to join him, to follow him into the darkness of discovery, to become powerful together. After everything they had been through, they'd each chosen family in their own way; Evan, in following Regulus and Barty into the darkness Voldemort's growing allegiance, and Pandora, in remaining isolated from the affairs of the outer wizarding world, in separating herself from anyone who was not blood or who betrayed their blood, and in cutting off their apparent found family at the drop of a hat.

At the end of the day, it all came back to family, to the Rosiers, and to the endless, relentless isolation.

Evan died alone on a battle-field, his body left on a beach to be reclaimed by the elements as his soul departed for the afterlife. Pandora felt the second he left this plane of existence, a string inside of her cut and leaving her forever longing for the brother she had lost a long time ago. She had looked out her kitchen window after the day of his death, seeing a pair of two dark-haired men standing in the paddock across from the Rosier mansion, the empty space left for her twin apparent in the middle of the two men. They had all looked at one another for a moment, before her old friends had disapparated into the winds of the day. Pandora sighed quietly, a tear falling down her face as turned back towards the bubbling cauldron she was minding. She wiped her face quickly as she heard her husband walking up the stairs, and fixed her face with a soft smile.

Pandora died alone in the backyard of her childhood home, a flash of blue light being the last thing she saw before her body fell to the ground. Her last thought was not of her twin, but rather of her daughter he never got to meet, and the regret she felt at subjecting her to seeing her mother die like that. As she felt herself cross into the afterlife, it was as though a part of her soul let out a sigh of relief. Though she was leaving behind her family, she was to join Evan and her parents once again. Maybe that was for the best.

Xenophilius locked up the Rosier mansion for good after his wife was buried in the family graveyard, moving his young daughter away from the house which had always rubbed him the wrong way. The halls, the bedrooms, workshops, and library would stay empty for many years, preserved with spells and protective enchantments keeping the mansion pristine and untouched by the years gone by. If one were to visit now, it would look as though the Rosiers were still there, and perhaps had simply gone for a walk, and would return any minute. They say the ghosts of the Rosier bloodline still haunt the house, the chatter of laughter and the sound of scribbling and the turning of pages echoing through its empty, abandoned hallways.

Another family lost, forgotten to the magic of time passing.

[livinginadumpster]

One thing I really like in Dead Boy Detectives is the use of blood/gore/horror. With a TV-MA rating, a show with horror themes is obviously going to have some blood and violence, and there are clear instances if this in DBD, but while it's definitely there, it's almost never gratuitous. That's because scenes like the Devlin murders or Maxine's death aren't really about those deaths, rather, they're about the characters' reactions to them and the way the story is shaped by them.

In the Devlin house, the camera focuses not on the girls being killed but on Edwin, Crystal, and particularly Charles reacting to their murders with horror, shock, and anger. The blood splatters in a meaningful way, rather than simply a horrifying one, over the TV and the popcorn and the younger daughter's stuffed rabbit, tarnishing the innocence of everything it touches. While the tragedy of the murders themselves are important, the main focus is Charles' reaction to them as a result if his own trauma. Showing the minutia of the killings would take away from that, so it simply isn't there.

Even Maxine's death, while definitely played off more for shock value than the Devlin murders, serves a purpose. Episode 5 focuses on the failure of romantic relationships, on betrayals from those you thought you could trust, and the Maxine subplot adds to that. It begs the question, who can you trust in this world? At the end of the episode, the answer we are given is your friends, your found family, because love will kill.

It seems to me that the blood in hell represents the guilt of those it touches - Simon's wounds heal when he forgives himself; Edwin loses the blood covering him after Charles turns up to rescue him (albeit by a horrifying cause); the people in the Lust room are drenched in blood and get it on Edwin when they try to drag him down. It's not just there to demonstrate the horrors of hell, but to brand its inhabitants.

There are lots of other examples. The blood when Niko dies is there obviously because that's what happens when you get stabbed, but also (in my opinion) as a visual callback to her saying that red is the color of courage. The cat king's bloody corpse and Monty's blood-splattered face show Esther's ruthlessness and disregard for anyone in her path. Lilith is covered in blood as a symbolic part of her character design. Everything serves a purpose, narratively or symbolically.

(The only example of gore that served no particular purpose that I can think of was in episode one when the WWI ghost drooled blood all over Charles' face, but it was the pilot episode and that whole scene was meant to be shocking, so it can be forgiven.)

Anyway, I really like the way they use blood in DBD, because it shows such a level of detail and care. I enjoy horror but not gore so much, and to me it's refreshing to see it used so tastefully and executed so well.

[winchestermylove]

thinking about samdean holding hands,,, it starts out as a simple way to stay grounded; being able to hold onto each other after a close call on a hunt. only lasting 30 seconds max before one of them pulls away, and neither of them ever mention it. but then dean starts resting his hand behind sam's shoulders while driving in the impala, and then maybe on his knee, and then they're holding hands every time they get in the car. dean is even doing it subconsciously, and sam notices but he doesn't say anything in fear of ruining it because he's actually enjoying the close contact.

it doesn't take them long to start reaching for each other while sitting on the couch in the dean cave watching a movie. sitting next to each other in the kitchen eating dean's homemade dinner for that night; sam having to eat with his left hand because his right is occupied with dean.

and then they're going out in public holding hands, walking through the grocery and convenience stores hand in hand, unbothered because no one in lebanon knows they're actually brothers.

there's nothing else they're doing that is out of the ordinary; they're not in a relationship, they don't fuck, but then again there's nothing ordinary about the winchester brothers. cas and jack don't say anything either, even though they notice what's going on, because in their eyes sam and dean have always been married to each other anyway, so what's a little hand holding in the grand scheme of things?

any time either of them need a little extra comfort, that little bit of physical touch that they are both deprived of, they know they can go to the other for it. It's just another part of their dynamic that just makes sense and feels right. why haven't they been holding hands this whole time?

[tswwwit]

I really really like the sequence of Dipper dealing with the backlash from the sleep curse in both povs. Bill seemed to think his mind was gone, but Dipper clearly was aware of not only what was going on, but dealing with it pretty well. Is backlash just a waiting game or does it depend the person? Does Dipper ever tell Bill what exactly was happening in his head? How different would it be for someone else?

Fantastic question! It depends both on the person, and on the curse that was cast/broken, and on how much power was used.

Think of it like a rubber band. Tension holds it in place. A curse wrapped around someone else could snap back on the caster if it was still connected to them, or done poorly. The more tension/power, the harder it hits. The nature of the backlash depends on the initial setup!

Most curse casters will get smacked around a bit if their stuff is broken - but there are also ways to tie up the person/people without having it come back to bite you in the ass as much. Nobody wants a 'shrivel up and die' curse coming back to instantly mummify them, after all.

In the sleep curse in Faking It, Dipper had no idea what he was doing, and didn't do it well. When his curse got broken, it was extra bad. He didn't have any set up to mitigate it, and the sheer volume of people affected and energy it used made it pretty huge. And it was mind magic, so inevitably, the return involved minds.

To paraphrase a line from Hating It: 'Washed away on the tide of a thousand minds'. ALL the dreaming thoughts from the town rushed right over Dipper like a literal flood. Another person's brain would have been swept away and bashed against the rocks until they were a fine paste.

Dipper has reasonable self-awareness, so he was more adept than average. Bill told him what would happen, so he was considerably more prepared than average.

Still, all of that might not have been enough! it was A Lot of magic and brainpower smacking him around.

Luckily, Dipper also happens to be clever. Between Bill's prep and his own knowledge, he knew what to look for. He grabbed onto every handhold he could find, then found the Single Solid Rock in the middle of the flood and clung to it. That Nobody Else Knew About Bill. The one true thing that only HE knew, and let him weather the storm. Albeit considerably waterlogged and needing time to dry out.

Dipper's not gonna discuss it with Bill; he doesn't like to think about it. But I imagine Bill susses it out eventually!

[harmonysanreads]

Sunday has me in a daze ngl

I actually wasn't interested in Sunday initially because he didn't give off much personality compared to others in Penacony crew. He seems to be someone who prefers to not put ‘himself’ out there and doesn't say more than what is necessary. And then I realized that was exactly his personality and now I can't deny that the yandere potential of Sunday is immense.

Not only does he hold such a powerful position in the Family (power imbalance? mm hm), he's someone you won't easily get suspicious of. That cordial attitude and benevolent smile, a gentle aura that soothes the eyes—why would such an angelic man harbor malicious intent?

Beneath this gracious exterior though, is a jealous, yearning and shrewd heart. If you're someone who he finds endearing beyond help, he'll skillfully win your trust and then manipulate you into doing his bidding. You'll never recognize the monster hiding behind those fair feathers.

But, if you're smart enough to figure out his tricks and pursue your autonomy anyway, you'll soon find yourself isolated—not literally (yet) but by the entirety of Penacony who are but slaves to the Family's words.

Depending on you alone, Sunday is either the most pleasant dream or a cruel nightmare.

[chasing-faith-and-fate]

Moon 2

Moon 1 | Moon 3

[seraphdreams]

I don’t need a “”man”” I need toxic ex bf gojo who threatens other potential partners and doesn’t let other men near you and drags you away from your friends bc they’re getting more attention than he is and “”just so happens”” to be at the clubs you’re at with your friends (btw where are you going dressed like that sweetheart?? Trying to entice other men?? Silly you, now you’re getting fucked in the backseat of his car and he’s not gonna let you cum until you tell him you love him)

the thing with satoru is that he’s cocky — he fucking knows what his dick does to you , and the way you try sooo hard to deny that fact . . drooling all over the seats as he miraculously has you face down ass up in the backseat, his large frame hovering over you while he circles at your clit (like he used to when you’d both cuddled together) . . . you have to miss him, why else would you go out of your way to try and impress someone else if not to get back at your annoying ex? the sensation of the pads of his fingers tapping lightly against your clit while he’s shallowly fucking you with just the tip, has you whining . . begging . .

a sweet cacophony of “‘toru, please.” , “it’s not enough.” , “lemme cum, daddy.” have him smug as fucking ever . . look at you, only wanting to cum instead of revealing your true feelings towards him — of course, you loved him. who wouldn’t? but you’re in a battle of pride and your heart is set on winning.

oh, how he’d lean down and press soft kisses on your sensitive neck (just as he did when he was trying to butter you up the first time you caught him cheating). maybe you should’ve let him go then, yet in the back of your mind your only thought was no one else could fuck you like satoru gojo could.

so perhaps you do love him. perhaps you let the word slip, but undoubtedly so, he’s slipping the tip completely in and giving you exactly what you want — to squirt all over his cock n go dumb from the pleasure.

[elitadream]

Going anon for this one because I was feeling embarrassed but I also gotta know-- How did you manage to leave the Mario fandom? You seemed really passionate about it, and your posts were some of the best I've seen and read. What made you able to stop and focus on other things? Asking because as a small writer I kinda wanna do the same but I fear losing the few followers I have, so I feel stuck.

Do you have any advice for me?

Hi. ☺️ Thanks for reaching out!

While I wouldn't say I entirely left the Mario fandom (as I still have a genuine fondness for the games and part of the lore), I did let go of it quite a bit as an artist and I appreciate that you sought my perspective on what is a rather complex and delicate issue. 🤲

Fanwork and involvement in itself can be really fun and quite harmless when done right, but there are three things that I believe should always be kept in mind when participating more actively:

1- You are not getting paid for what you do. A vast majority of creators online receive absolutely no compensation for their contribution, and those that do usually obtain it strictly through commissions. For the most part, it's hours of hard work spent creating and then sharing content for free. And while this isn't inherently problematic per say, it's important to never lose sight of what your efforts go into and in what way it benefits you (or not).

2- There are thousands upon thousands of communities out there, for nearly every subject imaginable. The one(s) you're currently focusing on may mean the world to you right now, but that could very well change tomorrow, or next year. My point being: it's nice to have a notable passion towards something, but I don't think we should let it reach a point where it takes up all the room and seeps into our every waking thought. Being open to discovering and learning about other things can be an eye-opening experience, and having different interests is very good for the mind.

3- Views and likes don't matter at the end of the day. They really, truly don't. They won't make a significant impact in your life nor bring anything substantial to the table. Essentially, it all circles back to why you're creating something and who you're making it for. Having followers can be very exciting and uplifting for sure... But it shouldn't be your sole motivation for staying in a fandom, because chances are this will make you very unhappy longterm. If you want to draw or write about something, please do it for yourself above all. It's the only lasting way you'll get a genuine sense of joy and gratification out of it, trust me.

As far as the online experience goes, I consider friends and enthusiastic exchanges about common interests to be THE ultimate purpose of any community. Not fanwork. Not the followers count. Only good vibes. And the greatest thing about this is, the close friends you make will stay with you no matter what you choose to focus on next, I can assure you that. 💫💙

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[tetzoro]

good morning & happy friday friendz (ㅅ´ ˘ `) we have made it to the end of the week !! i hope you all have a wonderful day and an amazing start to your weekend !! friendly lil reminders : ෆ drink water ! unclench your jaws ! blow a kiss to the sky ! be gentle with yourself ! ෆ

[djarins-cyare]

So it’s been a year…

One year since Disney released episode 1 season 3 of The Mandalorian

One year since I published chapter 1 of Be-All And Endor

I don’t really remember much of the first 20 weeks of that year, just that it was a flurry of proofreading and finalising and uploading (the hard parts) and comment reading and new friend making and massively appreciating (the wonderful parts).

Proofing and publishing 2 chapters a week with average lengths of around 10k words was exhausting. But for the first 8 of those weeks I had Din Djarin on the screen (intermittently *ahem* but this isn’t a post about the quality of s3) and for the rest of the year I had my readers leaving comments and sending messages, and it was… overwhelmingly the best year of my life.

I mean that. The best year. Ever. Because of you. Any of you, all of you, if you’ve ever even just clicked on my fic and given it chance, you’ve raised the hits on it. Even seeing that metric tick up has made me so thankful.

Because I didn’t think I could write. I always wanted to be an author but never believed in myself.

I did an English degree with writing in mind, but told myself nobody ever does anything with an English degree. I took creative writing modules, and when the published author who ran the class gave me scathing feedback, my dream fully died. I got an okay grade, hardly anything to be proud of, and I graduated and went to work in another industry.

I suffered from clinical depression.

One day many years later, I found a favourite author online and messaged him to ask when his fourth novel in a series was being published, and (emboldened by the anonymity of being online) cheekily offered to proofread it for him. Except he took me seriously and sent me the prologue to see what I could do. Like, for a real book you can buy on Amazon. After feeling sick for two whole days I went all Autistic Obsession on it and sent him back the most thoroughly proofed bit of writing anyone had ever seen. And I got the job. (I say ‘job’, I’d volunteered for free in exchange for the privilege of reading it in advance, so I can only ever call it semi-professional since I didn’t earn from it).

This, amongst other things, lifted me from my depression. I came off the pills and felt happier, more creative. Once the proofing was completed, the author encouraged me to write my own stuff, but whilst I’d gained some confidence… my brain was empty. I had no clamouring stories to get down on the page, no gems ready to polish.

Then in summer 2021, a friend sat me down and showed me the first 3 episodes of the Mandalorian. And my brain chemistry was instantly altered. I binge-watched the first two seasons, by the end of which I was unequivocally in love with Din Djarin, and then I binge-watched them again.

Around that time, I moved to a different country. Well, Wales is still the UK, but it’s a different country to England, and I was now 170 miles away from my friends. I went because as a single woman on a middling salary, London is too expensive to live in and having rid myself of an overbearing long term relationship, I was NOT keen to get into another one just to pay the bills. The pandemic meant I could work remotely, so I upped sticks and moved to Cardiff, resolving to visit my office in London (and my friends) once a month. It’s 2 hours by train, totally doable.

So what to do with all the spare time I suddenly had?

By Easter 2022 I’d started writing. 9 months later (yes, it’s my actual baby), Be-All And Endor was complete and I began publishing alongside season 3’s release.

Now… it has over 62.k views and 1.2k kudos 🥹🤯

Did I think it would be this popular? No way. I can’t even believe it now. I still see SO much wrong with it, which is why I’m still proofreading and editing it.

A professional proofread/edit takes a long time, and if you’re wondering what I’m doing to it, it involves the following:

Checking for things like clichés, non-inclusive language

Checking all adverbs to see if a better word can be used (e.g. ‘bellows’ instead of ‘shouts loudly’… adverbs usually end in -ly and it’s not good to overuse them)

Rephrasing any passive sentences (simply put: ‘the ship is flown by Din’ is passive; ‘Din flies the ship’ is active)

Reducing average sentence length (shorter sentences are easier to read)

Going through every single damn polysyllabic word (e.g. anything that has more than 3-syllables) and seeing if a shorter synonym can be found (this helps the rhythm, as too many long words slows things down and can make readers stumble… and I use them a lot 😖)

Checking the 50 most frequently used words and seeing if I can find synonyms for those (helps give more variety in the language)

Ensuring Din’s name isn’t overused or underused, and adding epithets (e.g. ‘the hunter’ or ‘your Mandalorian’) where it’s overused but it’s too confusing to just say ‘he’/‘him’

These are the big things, but there’s more too - I’m streamlining decisions I made to use certain phrasings throughout; tweaking Din’s word choice here and there to ensure his voice is captured the best way possible; revamping some of the photos. And with all the tiny tweaks, it’s slowly padding things out too… when publishing was done it was 393k, now it’s 403k, although it’s not extra content as such, just better described.

I’m up to chapter 13 so far, and I’ll probably be doing this for another 2 years to get through all 40, because (a) I want to write other things too so that slows down the proofing, and (b) I so badly want to be proud of this project… everyone’s telling me I should be, and I am in a way… but it’s more gratitude to others than pride in myself… and I feel like if I get this proofing done and finally have a story I’m truly happy with, I can at last let myself be proud of what I achieved here.

I confess, I’m so envious of those who can post something without obsessing over it. I know it’s a facet of my autism, and I’ve long since accepted that my neurodivergent brain will not let me be cool about things other people are cool about. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I should turn it to my advantage, so okay… I’m gonna make this fic the same quality as a published book on your bookshelf. And meanwhile I’m gonna enjoy and love all the fics that people can write and publish with far greater speed than I can, because the greatest thing about this fandom is that every contribution is worthy of appreciation, no matter the author’s experience or writing method. Quality fic isn’t synonymous with proofreading, and I hope it’s clear that I’m describing my obsession with perfecting my own writing, not other people’s. I’ve read so many amazing authors on here, and I want them all to know how much I love their work (any recs are from the bottom of my heart).

So anyway, this long and rambling post has turned into something unintended… I guess you now have some insight into my mind and the origins of Be-All And Endor and the future of it. Not what I meant to do, but I’ll leave it in for context.

Because the real reason I started writing this diatribe was because I wanted to express my true and undying gratitude to everyone who has ever read, commented, or left kudos on my fic over on AO3, and/or messaged me, followed me, interacted with me, or reblogged my masterlist here on tumblr 🧡💚

I know I am insanely lucky to have received the level of support I have, and I don’t take that for granted at all. I want to give back to this fandom, and I love reading and reccing other people’s fics, meeting new moots, and hopefully soon I’ll be publishing new fics for you all to read too. Fresh material is percolating, so it won’t be too long now.

So thank you to everyone who reads this post, you’re the absolute best and I love you more than I have the vocabulary to describe. Please accept a grateful forehead kiss instead 💋

[scarperseus]

I was reading some research about split brain patients, or people who have had the connection of the brain hemispheres (or corpus callosum) severed, leaving the two halves unable to communicate. And of course I immediately thought of Jekyll and Hyde.

Now I am one to know very well that J&H are not split personalities nor "brain sides", but the similarities are so neat I don't see why I couldn't dive in a little deeper into representation. I know this has most likely been looked into before as them being the two brain sides, but I wonder if ever in a much more real life situation like in split brain patients, (their experiments are trippy, I recommend watching them), not just in a hypothetical sense.

As Hyde representing the right brain, it definitely works as a really good "villain origin story". Since that hemisphere does not have the ability to speak, when working and connected with the left brain it is forced to submit to the more "analytical and reasoning" side. When Hyde is set free, he now has a voice and a freedom in what to do, where now the left brain has to submit (hence Jekyll not being able to change back since reasoning isn't priority, only want). That feeling is intoxicating for one who's never known it.

The right brain is primarily used for senses, identification, etc., so Hyde only cares about chasing his desires. Now able to figure out things for himself, without having to do whatever the left brain says, anything is possible. That feeling of unexplainable actions is very obvious in split brain patients (the left hand, controlled by the right brain, draws something that the left brain doesn't know the reason for) where the horror of this story being a possibility is much more conceivable.

So, who really are you? Or was Stevenson right and you.. were always really two?