#and like the hysterical woman and all that

[necronatural]

Got Dropped In a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work: A visual primer for English speakers

This took me a week. I did this for ORV like 4 years ago so it felt like my moral obligation to make one again.

Some notes on character designs and images without text:

Gorals and domestic goats look very different, but in Manor of the Blind attention is put into how these two are similar and contrasting, the truly noble Go Yeongeun with the white goat and the sinister Baek Saheon with the black goat. I also picked a literal goral instead of a mountain goat (which are naturally white) because gorals look more like roe deers than goats, making the 3 of them more closely linked.

Because this is a horror novel and unnatural features aren't mentioned, I tried to keep this as grounded as possible. Sorry to the three WHABs I eliminated in cold blood ⭐

Another hardliner of of grounded designs is Jin Nasol, who gets the most ostentatious anime character treatment besides Jay in fanart. She is coldly utilitarian and prizes efficiency over all else, there is no way that woman has bangs

I am not giving Park Minseong brown hair. There is nothing wrong with a good warm black

Lee Jaheon is often depicted as an adorable little newt in fanart, but a huge part of why he is so hysterical is that he is scary, so I picked more intimidating lizard traits so he functions in both dramatic heroic scenes and eating granola bars with the wrappers still on. He gets to keep the newt mask though

I gave Braun white gloves at first but I saw a Braun cosplayer and a demon possessed me. I have no idea what colour is canon. who doesnt love black leather

Making Jang Heo-un the "sharp eyes meek personality" trope made my brain light up so good. I was trying to contrast with the relaxed eyes of the easygoing Park Minseong to make them more obviously different but this feels cosmically correct

You can use these pics in whatever. ⬆️

[horreurscopes]

trying to convince multiple repairmen that the hot water runs out in 2-3 minutes in the shower because they cannot wait 2-3 minutes before assuming a woman is hysterical they keep looking at me going "there's no hot water problem here" it's like the yellow wallpaper all up in here

[a-deep-ocean-of-secrets]

BuckTommy Fluffebruary

Day 1: Non-Sexual Intimacy

Summary:

After the longest shift of Buck's life, there's nothing he wants more than to curl up with his man.

Read below or on AO3 (3.2K words)

Buck could barely keep his eyes open as he pulled his Jeep into Tommy’s driveway after the longest 24 hours of his life. His shift had been an unrelenting slog from the moment he entered the station until the blessed moment he had finally been free to leave that particular circle of Dante’s hell. 

Call after call. Big calls. Little calls. Batshit crazy calls, like the woman who had hysterically rung 911 believing her husband, who was unresponsively stretched out on their ancient recliner in the living room, was dead. When the 118 had arrived with their sirens blaring and fearing the worst, they were baffled when the man perked right up and began talking to them. He hadn’t been dead, just dead set on ignoring his wife’s constant stream of conversation. 

And so it had gone. When coming back to the firehouse from a tedious call, the team had hardly had a moment to eat or clean or decompress before the alarm would shrilly blast throughout the station, and, with loud and despairing groans, they got back into the truck and off they went to serve and protect their community. 

Someone had to have uttered the dreaded Q-word. (Probably Ravi.) And when Buck got his hands on that certain someone, there would be hell to pay for the cursed shift he had just barely survived. 

And worse yet, Tommy had been just as busy—or even busier, god forbid—at his shift over at the 217 because the two had hardly been in contact for the last 24 hours. Texting his boyfriend a steady stream of consciousness of his innermost thoughts and feelings (interspersed with plenty of funny photos and memes) had become the highlight of Buck’s work days, and he had been cruelly denied the pleasure that was rapidly growing into an all-consuming addiction. 

When he cut the engine, it was as if he was a marionette whose strings had been snipped and he slumped forward and pillowed his arms on the steering wheel as he contemplated how pathetic it would be to fall asleep here in his vehicle instead of braving the twenty or so steps to Tommy’s front door. As awful as it’d be to have to walk (he’d been on his feet all day), he’d for sure wake up with a terrible crick in his neck if he stayed here. And besides that, his boyfriend was inside that house, which made it the obvious winner. Still, it took far too much energy to rouse himself to get out of the Jeep.

Grabbing his trusted duffle bag, Buck opened the car door and only whimpered a little as his feet landed on the unforgiving concrete driveway. He sluggishly shuffled his way up the walkway of Tommy’s postwar bungalow, dragging his feet in silent protest. When he reached the cheerfully painted canary yellow front door and stomped his feet on Tommy’s hilariously apt ‘Welcome! Just kidding, please go home’ doormat, he tiredly dug through the pockets of his sweatpants and pulled out Tommy’s house key. Dangling from it was a silver helicopter keychain and Buck couldn’t help but giddily smile at it as it gleamed in the early morning sunlight. 

Inserting the key into the lock, the door easily swung open as Buck made his way inside the home he had come to know as readily as the back of his hand. With his mind on autopilot, he quietly de-stressed. 

His Jeep was parked alongside Tommy’s truck outside. His keys clanked together as they plopped into the ceramic bowl on the sideboard in the foyer, right alongside Tommy’s own set of keys. He toed off his ratty sneakers and tucked them under the sitting bench, right next to Tommy’s worn boots. He dropped his duffle bag onto the leather cushion next to Tommy’s. 

It was all so automatic, all so routine. He had done this more times than he could count. Buck just fit in Tommy’s home, in his life. The synchronicity of it all wormed its way through the veins of his weary, exhausted body and warmed him from the inside out. The feeling was not dissimilar to being wrapped up tight, snug as a bug, inside an electric blanket on a cold winter’s day.  

Biting back a jaw-splitting yawn, Buck went to the kitchen for a glass of water. The house was quiet and peaceful as dewy morning light trickled in through the east-facing windows in radiant, golden shimmers. 

He entered the kitchen and his eyes were immediately drawn to the crock pot situated on the butcher block countertop. Older than Buck, the weathered, cream-and-blue crockpot was adorned with a homely floral pattern, though the original design was now hard to discern through the various stains and scorch marks tarnishing its kitschy facade. It had been one of Grammy Kinard’s prized possessions and Tommy couldn’t bear to part with it when she died ten years prior. He had even fished it out of the trash when his father had callously thrown it out after her funeral. 

It was an eyesore compared to Buck’s modern and sleek GreenPan slow cooker, but it prepared a meal just as well and he could never begrudge Tommy his sentimentality, not when it was one of the many traits he adored about him. He peered through the plastic lid at the firehouse chili simmering away on low heat. 

In a few hours, the house would be filled to the brim with the rich, hearty aroma of tenderly slow-cooked beef, tomatoes, and beans. Fragrant with the mouthwatering scents of garlic, cayenne, ground cumin, oregano, and chili powder all melded together. Later, Buck would prepare Bobby’s famous and flavorful honey jalapeño cornbread to accompany the delectable chili. He licked his lips in anticipation of how decadent their dinner would be. They would feast like kings tonight. Which was perfect, as both were heading into their stretches of 96 hours off. 

Grabbing the pitcher of water from Tommy’s fridge, he poured himself a glass and was absentmindedly sipping it as he eyed the coffee maker and found the carafe full of a fresh brew and being kept warm by the machine. When they awoke from their post-shift nap, coffee would be readily available for consumption. That kind of proactive thinking had Buck so often hot under the collar when it came to his boyfriend. 

He gulped the last of his water just as he spied a paper bag resting innocently on the counter with a familiar logo plastered across it. Clinging to it was a neon blue sticky note. Buck reached forward and plucked it off as he was greeted with Tommy’s familiar, blocky handwriting. 

I stopped at Baked Bliss on my way home and picked up some sugar for my sugar. ~ T 

“Dork,” Buck couldn’t help but mutter with a low chuckle, but his expression turned helplessly fond as his finger reverently traced over the clumsily drawn heart Tommy had placed after his initial. 

Baked Bliss was a bakery that opened a few months ago near Harbor and quickly became Buck’s go-to place to stop when visiting his boyfriend at work. They had everything: cookies, cupcakes, muffins, cakes, cinnamon rolls, and more. Tearing into the bag, Buck groaned loudly as he pulled out a key lime coconut cronut. His absolute favorite. 

It was beautifully baked and flaky, with coconut icing encircling the top and garnished with fresh lime zest. The citric scent tickled his nose in the most delightful way as Buck wasted no time taking a gigantic bite. He moaned indecently as soon as the pastry dough melted on his tongue. Barely stopping to swallow, he proceeded to devour the baked treat. 

He knew he wasn’t exactly the classiest of eaters. 

Maddie had given him shit for years about his seemingly abysmal table manners, but she was his sister, so that didn’t really count, right? And to be fair, he had tried to curb the bad habit around his partners with varying degrees of success. After the emergency tracheotomy, he had been too scared to really eat around Abby, worried he’d nearly kill himself again like the idiot he had been. Ali and Natalia hadn’t stuck around long enough for him to move past his early relationship jitters, so neither had been subjected to the full Evan Buckley Experience™. At a certain point in his relationship with Taylor, she’d just roll her eyes and mutter about him needing a pig trough. Which was rude, but her caustic sense of humor had never bothered him. So he liked people who were bitchy and a little mean? He had a type. 

She had that in common with Tommy, but luckily for Buck, Tommy found his table manners adorable rather than grotesque. So he was free to stuff his face as much as he pleased, all while his prime rib of a boyfriend gazed at him with doting eyes. More than once, Chimney had gagged at their antics and ordered them to stop being so disgustingly in love. 

But Buck had no intention of stopping, thank you very much. 

Once the cronut was gone and Buck’s fingers were licked clean, he hummed happily to himself as he surveyed the kitchen. After dealing with a shift just as backbreaking as his own, his boyfriend had driven to Buck’s favorite bakery to pick up his favorite treat and then driven home, prepared their chili, and got a batch of coffee brewing. 

Buck adored him with everything he had. 

Speaking of which, where was Tommy? He had yet to make an appearance and the house was serenely peaceful. Placing the glass in the sink and throwing the bag into the recycling bin, Buck turned on his heel and made his way to the bedroom.  A trail of Tommy’s clothes was randomly thrown around the hallway and guided his path. He pushed open the bedroom door and leaned against the doorway as he took in the endearing sight. 

Tommy was flopped haphazardly across the bed on his stomach. It was almost as if he had face-planted onto the mattress in his haste to get into bed and then was too tired to wriggle his way under the covers. So, instead, he had given up the fight, falling asleep right on the spot. His sturdy back rose and fell with deep, measured breaths and he peacefully slumbered as every exhale came out as a wailing whistle. He was clothed in nothing but his black boxer briefs that did amazing things to his ass, accentuating every ample curve. He must have showered at Harbor, for his hair was fluffy and free of product in the way that drove Buck wild, making him resemble a precious newborn chick more than anything else. 

Like an artist admiring his magnum opus, Buck pressed his shoulder into the doorframe as his eyes slowly and devoutly took in every feature and quirk of the man he loved with his entire heart. 

He began with the elegant swoops of Tommy’s arches and the thin, wiry scar stitched across his right heel from a childhood accident. Then, there was the way his second toes were just a smidge longer than his big ones; a fact that Tommy was embarrassed by, but Buck was completely enamored with. He loved tracing them on movie nights as the two lounged on the couch with Tommy’s feet in Buck’s lap. He’d massage them, digging his fingers into the arches and watching with glee as Tommy squirmed and attempted to hide his snorting laughs into the curve of his shoulder. And every time he had the gall to deny that he was ticklish there. No matter how much Buck made him giggle. 

Buck’s eyes slowly dragged up Tommy’s strong legs. He admired how they were splattered with downy leg hair, like numerous paint strokes slashing Tommy’s skin. He still remembered the first morning he woke up with Tommy in his bed. The other man had been a furnace at Buck’s backside as sweltering heat blazed across Buck’s naked, sleep-soft skin. His thick arm had been thrown proprietarily across Buck’s stomach, anchoring Buck to him as if afraid he’d slip away in his sleep. 

Which was completely ridiculous, because where else would Buck want to be than bunkered down with his beast of a man? Their legs had been tangled together and Buck’s neurons had been firing off in all directions as he shifted and felt the delicious friction of their leg hairs rubbing together. A far cry from the soft suppleness of women’s legs, even the ones who hadn’t enjoyed shaving. Not better or worse, just different in a way that had Buck’s engine revving. 

Buck’s eyes purposefully traveled upward to the two dimples grooved into the swell of Tommy’s lower back. God, did Buck love those two little craters crafted into the moonscape of Tommy’s skin. They were like homing beacons to him; it didn’t matter where they were or who they were with, but his thumbs always found purchase within those two dimples. 

When they were spending their weekends at the local farmers’ market, Buck’s arm would be slung around Tommy’s waist as his thumb settled into one of the dimples. Cuddling together on the couch, his hands always found their way under Tommy’s shirt to those two little furrows. When Tommy was above him, his thighs bracketing Buck’s hips as he rode him with reckless abandon, Buck’s hands always locked around his waist, his thumbs pressing into the skin with enough force to bruise. 

Those dimples were designed specifically for Buck’s thumbs. He firmly believed that. 

Buck’s eyes feasted on the sight of Tommy’s muscular back and the wide expanse of bare skin. Now, that was a canvas masterpieces were painted on. Dotting the landscape were numerous freckles and moles of varying sizes and colors. They were peppered up and down the slope of his spine. An entire universe of stars was contained to Tommy’s back; Buck’s very own starry night. 

Swaying in the doorway, Buck suddenly had the brilliant thought that the only thing better than admiring Tommy from a distance was getting up close and personal. Better yet, getting his hands all over the man in question. He quickly stripped off his clothes until he was left in only his boxer briefs, lowered himself onto the bed, and began crawling up it. 

His hands and knees sank into the sinfully soft mattress and Buck let out a weary sigh as any remaining tension from his hellish shift completely seeped away. He slithered along Tommy’s side until his head could rest on a pillow and he was pressed to Tommy’s robust body. Now that he was in close proximity, the freckles and moles were even more mesmerizing as they stood out brilliantly against Tommy’s creamy skin. 

With the utmost gentleness, he brought his callused fingers to Tommy’s back and began tracing over the various spots and splotches, forming his very own constellations. Not the hunters, maidens, or fierce creatures charted by the ancient Greeks, but renderings of his imagination brought to life against the backdrop of his boyfriend’s skin. 

A racing rabbit. A sparrow in mid-flight. A daffodil with its petals raised towards the sun. There were infinite possibilities to explore and create and Buck couldn’t wait to come back to them time and time again. Tommy was his North Star. The most dazzling one in the entire night sky, and all Buck’s. 

Overcome with affection, Buck replaced his fingers with his lips as he kissed the individual knobs of Tommy’s spine. He could feel the heady warmth of Tommy’s skin as it splayed before him. He deliberately worked his way up the curvature of Tommy’s back and had just reached the bend where his neck met his broad shoulder when movement below caught his attention. 

Tommy snuffled himself awake as a shuddering sigh passed through his body. And like an overly-indulgent cat in a sunbeam, he stretched out his long limbs. His back rippled intoxicatingly, like a pebble bouncing off the surface of a calm lake. 

“Ev’n?” he sleepily murmured as he buried his head further into his pillow. “Iz t’at you?” 

“Yeah, babe. It’s me,” Buck whispered, keeping his voice low as he propped his chin on Tommy’s shoulder. He tilted his head and watched as Tommy’s face began to come to life. A furrow developed in the grooves of his forehead as his eyebrows scrunched towards each other. His dry lips smacked together as he worked up to speak. His eyes blinked blearily and Buck watched enraptured as he caught the barest flicker of blue. 

Moderately more awake, Tommy sleepily asked, “How was work?”

“Long. Exhausting. Bizarre.” Buck punctuated every word with a kiss to the shell of Tommy’s ear and enjoyed the shiver that swept through his boyfriend’s massive body. He was so responsive, in all ways. It drove Buck mad, and if he weren’t so physically drained he’d do something about it. But alas… 

“What were you doing to my back? I could feel you.” 

Buck felt a flush spread rapidly across his cheeks that surely was the same color as his birthmark, but he didn’t demur at being found out. Honesty was the best policy and all that jazz.

“Tracing constellations.” 

Tommy snorted as he raised his head and met Buck’s gaze. Humor and fondness were clear in his eyes as the two looked at each other. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“You have an entire galaxy mapped out across your back. How could I resist?” Buck let his fingers tenderly run up and down Tommy’s spine as he spoke. 

Tommy’s lips quirked. “You’re so weird. I love it.” 

From anyone else, the words would have had Buck ducking away self-consciously, but from Tommy, they were a compliment of the highest order. Tommy never made him feel as if he was Bucking things up by simply being himself. He embraced all of Buck’s oddities and tendencies. He didn’t just embrace them, but was enthusiastic in diving into Buck’s psyche; always asking for more, more, more. 

It seemed Tommy was not as tired as he let on because, within the blink of an eye, he had rolled onto his back and had Buck gathered up in his arms. Their bodies were pressed together from head to foot and Buck reveled in the gluttonous sensation of so much skin-to-skin contact. The combined heat of their bodies was an inferno unto itself as it burned and burned. Buck basked in its dizzying glow. 

Like a brand, Tommy pressed his lips to Buck’s temple. Buck hummed contentedly as he burrowed further into Tommy, his earlier exhaustion creeping in as sleep tugged persistently on his drooping eyelids. 

“Sleep now,” Tommy whispered, already halfway there himself. “I made coffee for later. And chili.”

“Can’t wait,” Buck replied. He couldn’t wait for all of it. The coffee. The chili. The cornbread. The upcoming four days spent together. The weekend trip to Napa Valley that was planned for next month. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Year’s Eve. 

The rest of their lives. Together. 

Buck slid his head down Tommy’s chest until his ear was fitted over the steadfast heartbeat reverberating from within. 

Thump—thump—thump. 

The most beautiful sound in the world. 

And so together, they slept. 

@bucktommyfluffebruary

[king-spite]

i finished The Burning God

finished reading The Dragon Republic yesterday now to start The Burning God. wish me the best of luck

[ughdontbeboring]

Let Me In

Smoke X Black/WoC Reader X Stack (👀😮‍💨🥵)

A night at the speakeasy that changes y’all lives forever

warnings: uh angst? and twin Mike’s lol (I wish there was smut but maybe once I see the movie idk)

side note: not sure if I even wrote that out correctly but the twins share reader there is no incest in the pairing. I thought about this late at night after seeing the trailer that just dropped and yea lol I haven’t been in Mike’s fanfic section in a while and all my Killmonger fics I never post so funny enough without the movie even being out this is my first fic for Mike ever posted.

I may follow up and do more after the movie drops and I see more of their personalities only time will tell. I’m def playing around with something a little prequel just to show their dynamic a bit but again time will tell 🥵

it’s so early on idk what to even tag this 😭 is anyone even reading this now or are we waiting on the movie to drop??

❤️💙

Smoke stood there yelling trying to claim down the group of hysterical night goers who now found themselves in an impossible situation. A situation that shouldn’t be a reality but let the old tales tell it, it was just as true. 

And now your small group of survivors is finding that out. 

The lively party under the moon light quickly taking a turn after unwanted guests arrived odd and full of smiles. 

It started with that Mary woman who had flirted her way in. She was out of place here and maybe that’s why Stack seemed so intrigued. He never could turn down a mystery, your wild boy.

Now there was no way out that any of you could see just yet but you knew Smoke would think of something, he always did.

Pearl wailed in front of everybody, her body shaking uncontrollably as the other women rushed surrounding her, trying to give some comfort.

You seen Delta take that moment to approach Smoke who was deep in thought, closer to the front door than anyone else. That far away look on his face when he was racking his brain for a solution. 

The realization that Stack had become a night creature, a vampire from the folklore of time immortal, from tales stretching across the world in different cultures, different languages was unfathomable. He had become whatever they were and it was settling into the group with dread. 

But none more devastated than Smoke and you. 

Now while Smoke was thinking of this with the rationality of surviving you just couldn’t accept this. 

“Smoke what we gon’ do without Stack?” Delta tried to whisper. He was unsuccessful because you could still hear him even with the group of women between y’all. 

You feel the room spinning again and you just need a moment. Hearing him speaking of Stack in that way had the air rushing from your lungs. No not Stack. You thought. Not like this. 

You know Smoke said for everyone to stay together and away from the walls, the doors, the windows any part of the foundation but you just need a moment because you feel like you can’t fucking breathe. 

Everyone is occupied when you slip away silent in your kitten heels you had choose for the night, your careful to not make noise with your form fitting dress that’s decorated with beadwork at the hem. All night the dress had swayed and shinned in the low lit speakeasy. You had danced all night your dress adding its own sound to the lively music with the heavy beadwork while switching between the strong arms of your boys during every song when the other wasn’t busy. 

Stack danced with you and Smoke would just hold you and kinda sway as you danced on him. Ever the serious one. 

You find yourself in the smaller back room that’s used for storage with a back entrance. Even though you needed a moment the small space was quickly becoming suffocating causing your grief and disbelief to swell within you. It choked you. Now you felt like you were standing out in the fields on a hottest summer Mississippi day. You felt like you were dying.

You quickly realized you were hyperventilating. You needed air. 

Over your deep breathing you hear softly yet unmistakably beyond the door “It’s ok baby”. Your blood goes cold and your body freezes. 

“Stack?” You question softly as your eyes start to water while staring straight ahead of you. 

“Yea, it’s me baby” He says in his familiar thick accent. 

“Ho-how?” You stutter in disbelief. How’d he know you were back here? Out of everyone it could have been how’d he know it was you? Was he alone? So many questions ran through your head without ever making it to your lips.

“Baby I knew it was you. Don’t cry babygirl just open the door fo’ me” He coo’s softly. 

“I-I can’t” you replied sounding even unconvinced to your own ears. It feels wrong to deny him. 

“Why? Baby I don’t wanna be out here no more all alone. let me in so I can get away from these crazy crackers” He mutters a little bit impatiently. That bit wasn’t your Stack. Stack out of the both of them always was patient with you, it was almost sickening how he caved for you. 

His patience’s with you gave people the false hood of a saint when his reality was he could flip in a moment. Just like Smokes quietness and how gentle he was with you gave people a false impression of calm man. They were both ticking time bombs on any given day, at any moment. 

“And it’s really you Stack?” You ask again begging your mind to believe what your heart does. That he’s still in there somewhere. 

It’s quiet for a moment before he's able to muster an almost forced reply. “Of course-“

“The hell you doing?” You hear barked behind you in that deep Mississippi drawl. 

It’s not even seconds later when you feel his presence behind you and his large hand gripping your arm yanking you slightly back.

“It’s Stack! We have to help him! Let him in! Please Smoke!” You beg facing the other half of your heart, staring up into Smokes eyes. You seen the anger and the hurt swirling in the deep brown.  

“It ain’t him!” He yells down at you as he towers above you. His handsome face menacing as always. 

You’re not sure if everyone had come back with Smoke or if they’re just getting there but you feel everyone’s eyes on you. You know they must think you crazy. You seen what everyone else outside the speakeasy did to eachother yet here you are begging for Smoke to find a way to save Stack, bring him back to you.

“Oh come on now no fighting with our babygirl, just open up fo’ me twin” Stack taunts from the other side of the door. 

The sound of his voice has you staring at the door with your conviction growing before Smoke is pulling your attention back to him. 

“Aye. Hey baby look at me that’s not Stack. Not no more” He tries again with concern flickering in his eyes. He’s not sure what will happen if he can’t get you to accept it. His stomach turns with the thoughts of all the possibilities. He can’t loose you too. Not now not never. 

“Please! Please I can’t-I can’t leave him out there!! He’s not safe” You begged staring up at him. Your eyes pleading with him to understand. 

But that flicker of concern is quickly extinguished by the anger that replaces it in his brown eyes. He’s shaking you as he turns you to face him. He needs you to understand.

He yells your name full of anger. “You’re not safe if you let him in! He’ll kill you and everyone else in this fucking place!” He roars at you. 

It’s starting to dawn on Smoke he may have to take more precautions if you don’t show him you’ve accepted what has happened to Stack.

You’re not sure why he allows it or if you’ve just caught him off guard but you yank your arm away and move near the door. 

You can feel the tension in the room at your sudden proximity to the door. There’s a small opening in the door just about your eye level in your short heels. It’s about the length of your middle finger and horizontal. 

“Stack pl-please baby please tell me it’s really you. You’re still my Stack, right?” You beg softly as you stare at Stack’s throat that you can see through the opening. Your fingers inching up to right below the hole.  He’s some how closer and your pointer finger ventures outside just barely to run along his full bottom lip. You shudder at the feel of his skin and how it’s something between hot and cool but not warm. It was odd and unsettling.

There’s a long pause and you can feel Smoke slowly move closer to you. 

The silence is deafening to you as your heart starts to pick back up. 

You see him shift a bit and when you crane you neck your able to see his eyes. You couldn’t see Stacks eyes before, not this close anyway since he changed.

They’re grey almost sliver and mostly lifeless, the brown warmth from them missing. But the guilt that flickers across them fans the embers of your hope. 

What is said next is so soft you almost don’t hear it if it wasn’t for the view you also had of his lips with the way he’s tilted his eyes to look down at you. 

But the rasp of his voice is unmistakable when he whispers “I love you” 

Your heart can’t take it and even if his eyes are different your Stack is still in there somewhere. Your hand rushes the door handle. 

It’s not Smokes booming voice behind you yelling “NO!” that startles you, it’s the earth shaking bang on the door in-front of you when you can do longer see Stack’s eyes that freezes your movements. Your hand inches from the handle.

The bang comes again as Stack yells “Let me in!”. Your body feels like you were just dumped into the Mississippi during winter. The cold realization settles over you. No he’s not your Stack, not fully at least.

Had he not banged on the door startling you, you would have surly opened it and thrown yourself into his arms. This was his way of showing you, your Stack that was still in there was trying to get through to you over the force that was consuming his body. He was trying to scare you.

The next bang is just as loud and aggressive and it causes you to stumble, falling back, your hands breaking the fall and scraping against the wooden floor as your bottom takes most of the impact. 

Your heart is racing faster than you thought possible as you stare up wide eyed at the door Stack continues to bang against 

“LET ME IN!” 

You feel Smokes rough hands wrap around your waist pulling you up. His arms wrap around you as you snob in your hands. His full soft lips at your neck shhing and comforting you.

“It’s ok baby, gonna be ok, you safe with me” Smoke whispers softly against you. 

They always had their different ways of dealing with you and it just worked having both of them. It wasn’t unusual for Smoke to be so soft with you but it didn’t happen as often as it did with Stack. Smoke was definitely your grumpy one, hardly if ever smiling if it wasn’t for you. 

They both came in your life at the same time sweeping you off your feet without even trying, They both pulled you in in their own way true to their own personalities. When you realize that you couldn’t choose you decided you would walk away, and they refused to let you go. They decided it was only right to share you with boundaries in place over loosing you. It was by far nothing any of you had experienced before or would have been willing with anyone else. But here the three of you were years later. You never looked back. 

“You and your man could be together and even better if you come out or let us in little lady” It’s another voice the room full of people hear, his voice, the white man who brought this hell to their little speakeasy paradise.

“Such a pretty pretty thing, we’d make you a queen” he continues with a groan almost like he was thinking of how your blood would taste or maybe even more sexual thoughts. Either way it caused you to shudder in Smokes arms pressing more into him. 

You know you aren’t mistaken when you hear a familiar growl. It’s not him it’s Stack. The sound causes your stomach to turn a bit knowing that’s the part of him that’s still Stack. He was always so jealous it was a wonder he was able to handle the relationship of 3. Even turning didn’t seem to change that in him. It was a sound you heard many many times before. A man any man would be beat within an inch of his life for disrespecting Stack or Smoke by gazing upon you for a moment too long. 

You’re not sure if you should be happy or devastated by the realization. Apart of you wants to be with him, be whatever he is now. Stay by his side like he had always been by hers. 

But then you feel the warm squeeze of Smoke’s arms behind you and his hands turning you into his chest as the tears you didn’t notice start again keep falling. 

Smoke’s large hands grab your face softly and his thumbs wipes the tears away. You couldn’t give up, not when you still had your Smoke. You had to fight for him even if that meant letting go of Stack or whatever Stack had become. 

His face is close to yours making you hold eye contact. 

“Shh baby m’ here, you safe. Just stay here with me” He says watching you, you nod finally giving him some relief you’re starting to accept this night and the twisted turn of fate. “If that was still Stack he’d want you safe baby. We both know that. He’d want you safe and with me.”

You shake your head in understanding but it doesn’t stop the tears. He leans in to softly kiss them away. 

“We gon’ be good. Ight baby? I got you.” He promises holding your eyes in place with the conviction in his. 

And you believe him. Not matter how impossible the situation seemed you believed him to always come through for you. 

“Did y’all hear that? Where’s that coming from” Delta panics leaving the room to search for the source. 

You steal a glance back and notice that Stack is still staring through the opening as Smoke pulls you away. 

“I love you” you whisper back with a finale look before turing into Smoke’s embrace as he leads you safely away from the temptation of his twin. 

Smoke knows that Stack is still in there somewhere but his bloodlust seems to be his main controller and  he can’t let you hold out on hope and get yourself killed or worse turned trying to prove your love. Trying to prove Stack is still in there. 

So he keeps you close as possible as they enter the main room following the rest of the group. 

“I love you Smoke” you say softly as you stop and look up at him. 

Smoke knows you do just as much as you love Stack, you’ve never shown favorites. He loves you more than he’ll ever be able to say, you both know that. After tonight though he might have to work on being able to tell you just how much he does. 

Smoke doesn’t care what happens tonight as long as he gets you safely away from this. Not only for himself but for Stack too. 

❤️💙

[astarlightmonbebe]

the fact that almost every single close female person in my life has has dealt with (chronic) health conditions that impacted or are impacting their daily lives...

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

All cards on the table.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[shsl-heck]

Thinking about the Chevalier interlude, specifically the inaugural team of Wards. Like in universe, they sell it to this first group of kids (and presumably the rest of the world) as a place for second chances, to find friends and mentors who understand what youre going through, where you can learn to use your powers safely while making good memories. The kids broadly seem to believe in these noble intentions of course, but what really gets me is that I've seen readers buy into it!

"Oh, it's such a tragedy that the Wards program became this awful thing that traumatizes kids even more, and expects them to die for the sake of civilians! It's fallen so short of what it was originally supposed to be!"

No it has not??? The fact that the triumvirate and Hero are saying it has this noble goal doesn't make it true. The Wards was pretty clearly always a way to increase the amount of bodies the prt could throw at threats, and we know this because it was started by the fucking Triumvirate as a part of the Protectorate! Alexandria literally came up with the idea of the Protectorate to legitimize the power of capes, and have a consistent source of heroes Cauldron could throw at problems. That is the whole reason for the PRT/Protectorate existing. So when we have this group of children brought in a subsidiary, there are 2 real options.

1). Cauldron and Alexandria decided they would be really niceys and created this program with no intentions other than helping these kids out.

Or 2). As things got worse, they realized the Protectorate didn't have enough manpower to do what they needed, and so they expanded it to include children (the demographic most prone to triggering). That way, they greatly increase the number of capes who they can send to fight and die as needed, and the ones who do survive their tenure in the Wards will be better trained when it comes time to join the actual Protectorate.

At the risk of sounding conceited, I think the second one is far more likely based on everything we know about Cauldron. Maybe it was originally a little nobler, and the goal was just to create more well trained heroes and cut back on young villains, but there's no way Alexandria, Doc Mom, and Contessa didn't factor in the ability to sacrifice the kid heroes if it improved their chances of success. That was absolutely a perk at minimum.

That's the real tragedy of the inaugural Wards. The kids were lured in with promises of safety, comraderie, and second chances like lambs to the slaughter. All the while, Alexandria and Cauldron knew that many (if not most) of these children would suffer abuse by the prt (like in the case of Reed), die, or face a fate worse than death like poor Mouse Protector. It's horrifying! The idea that they didn't know the danger these kids would be in is literally inconceivable. Especially when one of you is also the head of the prt! They knew, and they didn't care. It improved their chances at the end of the world, and so they did it no matter the cost.

[dreamyintersexouppy]

the great thing abt transandrodorks is that theyre literally so stuck in their own echochamber a single blog is a full comprehensive block list cuz no respectable person wants to interact with their vitriol and they drive away anyone who is even the slightest bit kind to trans women. keep it up y'all i hope i never see you again, notorious man hater that i apparently am

[gingerswagfreckles]

Every day on this website people log on and hate women.

[kakusu-shipping]

'You come home to introduce your new delinquent boyfriend to your mom and his parole officer is there' is probably the funniest scenario imaginable and i almost died laughing about it

Shitty doodles of my vision

POV You went on a Pokemon Journey and came back with a new BF only to find out your mom has a new BF, who also happens to be that crazy cat lady you obliterated and also your new boyfriend's Parole Officer.

[ananke-xiii]

Castiel: vessel, body, woman, (best) friend.

This title comes from a previous post of mine where I talked about Yockey’s episodes in s12 and how they all deal with the theme of interconnection between motherhood/fatherhood and human vessels vs demons, angels and other humans. Ultimately, the post was about Kelly Kline, the final “doll”, the real one, true vessel used to pour angelic grace in, give birth to a Nephilim and be discarded once her “job” is done.

However, since I’ve been thinking about the mothers of gods and monsters and how they all, in some way or another, end up being associated with Castiel, I’ve found an interesting discovery about “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” (the linked post about mothers and this one seem to be disconnected now but it will all make sense with later posts, I promise).

I’ll quote myself from my initial post in order to explain my theory:

Cas: Benjamin is always very careful. Long ago, he found a powerfully devout vessel in Madrid, and her faith, it… she gave him everything – her trust and her body. Dean: Wait. So Benjamin’s a woman. Cas: Benjamin is an angel. His vessel is a woman. But it – it’s – it’s more than that. She’s not just his vessel. Sam: She’s… She’s his friend. Cas: Yeah. Benjamin would never put her in unnecessary danger. So Lily killed Benjamin, the angel AND the “powerfully devout from Madrid” who’s first described as a vessel, a body, then as a woman, then again as “more than that/not just a vessel” and ultimately as a friend (with a romantic undertone to the word). So we GOTTA ask: when is a human being just a body? And when a vessel? Are there “vessels” and “not just [some angel’s]vessel”?

I’ve always interpreted this dialogue as an interesting lesson on “Angels and Gender Politics”, and it is, but maybe there’s something less intellectual and more mundane about it. Maybe it's just the same-old SPN parallels technique. But more fun.

“Vessel, body, woman, friend” is how the powerfully devout woman in Madrid is described. But in this episode, “vessel, body, woman, friend” is also Castiel. Castiel is the powerfully devout woman in Madrid and Dean’s… her Benjamin. There’s a complete reversal of roles here where Cas is paralleld to a human and Dean’s his angel which I find very interesting.

The comparison between Dean and Benjamin starts even before the Castiel-woman-in-Madrid one:

CAS: It was, um... Look, Benjamin wouldn't call for help lightly. And he wouldn't put himself in harm's way if he could help it. DEAN: Wow, this Benjamin seems like he's pretty cool, you know. Like he wouldn't make any half-cocked, knee-jerk choices. CAS: Yeah, you know what I like about him? Is that he's sarcastic, but he's thoughtful and appreciative, too. DEAN: Now what is that supposed to mean?

What Dean is saying here is that Benjamin is not Cas because Benjamin sounds like a cool type who wouldn’t make reckless decisions (while Cas is not this type of person). But what Cas is saying is that Benjamin’s like Dean because they’re both sarcastic but Benjamin is better than Dean because he’s also thoughtful and appreciative (while Dean’s not).

Let’s see if I’m right about this.

Vessel.

The moment Cas meets Ishim and Mirabel he just has to open his mouth and say it: “Kept your vessels all this time. I'm impressed”. Ishim and Mirabel say that they were not careless with their vessels like Cas was. Which, of course, means that they’ve known Cas in is “old him”, his old vessel.

Body.

Whether they like it or not (and Ishim doesn’t like it because he thinks humans are apes, monkeys and primates which, to be fair with Ishim, is not technically not true however he does throw shade at us) angels on earth are incarnated beings, meaning that to live on Earth they need to take… a body. Specifically, a human body (no cat angels for us). Human bodies, however, are, from an angel’s pov, weak. Ishim might have been careful with his vessel but this doesn’t mean he can’t get hurt. Lily doesn’t manage to kill him in the alley but she hurts him a great deal because his wound is deep and healing it will be painful. Bodies suck, huh? But maybe also… not so much after all.

Woman.

The big reveal of this episode is that Cas’ old vessel was a woman. We don’t know anything else but the fact that she was a woman. We don’t even know if Sam and Dean know about it because we see the backstory through a flashback while obviously they don’t. They must have wondered because they know for sure that Castiel took Jimmy Novak as his vessel after resurrecting Dean. Whatever the case may be, though, what we know is that that was the first time Castiel possessed a person to visit Earth.

Friend.

Friendship is one of the episode’s themes. It’s not the central one but they do bring up friendship a lot. Benjamin and the devout woman were "friends". Benjamin and Castiel were friends. The angels in Ishim’s garrison were friends. Sam and Dean are friends with Castiel. Dean and Castiel are best friends. Since Benjamin and the devout woman were established as “friends”, meaning that they were a little more than that, then where does it leave us? Well, frankly the usual: Cas and Dean are more than friends. Woah, what a surprise, I absolutely did not see that one coming.

The scene that confirms that my theory is correct is when Ishim dares Dean to finalize the sigil and blast every angel in the room. You see, “Benjamin would never put her in unnecessary danger”. Neither does Dean with Cas.

The scene also pretty much sums up the whole episode as far as the theme of “vessel, body, woman, friend” is concerned. Cas has healed Ishim who’s now fully recovered and brimming health from every pore. Cas, on the other hand? Not so much.

ISHIM: I used to envy you, Castiel. You believe that? ISHIM: You survived Hell. You were chosen by God. But now look at you. You're just sad and pathetically weak. ISHIM: So now... I'm gonna help you. I'm gonna cure you of your human weakness same way I cured my own– ISHIM: – by cutting it out. DEAN: Don't move. ISHIM: Do it. You blast me away, you'll blast away every angel in the room. I'll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he's hurt. He might live or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall. Roll the dice.

Castiel’s “bodiness” is exposed in this scene, but there is a… ahem�� “positive” side? Unlike the poor guy that Ishim is wearing as his meatsuit (ugh), Cas doesn’t have to worry about his vessel’s safety but his own. He is his own vessel now (well, he kinda still stole the looks from Jimmy Novak, nevertheless his vessel has become his body. An angel with his own body, crazy, I know. Maybe this is really why Ishim is jealous of him). Which, to be honest, is still concerning because Cas is reckless as fuck. Thank God Dean is not.

Dean doesn’t roll the dice, he doesn’t endanger his powerfully devout friend, he doesn’t bet on the odds of having to scoop up Cas’ remains from the wall.

So cool, right? Do you think that Cas has learnt the value of life, the value of his own life and will be less reckless with it? Of course not!

By the end of the episode Cas still says (re Billie’s murder)that he doesn’t regret his actions even if they cost him his life. He also says, after all he’s been through with Lily Sunder, that he doesn’t know if he’s capable of killing an innocent baby or not.

SAM: But, Cas, at the end of the day, it's a mom and her kid. I mean, do you – do you think you'll be able to... CAS: There was a time when I wouldn't have hesitated. But now, I don't know.

I don’t know if the show ever answers this question. He does bring Kelly to the “sandbox” but then Dagon shows up and then Joshua gets killed and then Kelly takes his hand and then Jack shows him “the future”… And then, and then, and then. Stuff happened, life happened, you know? I mean, it’s complicated but this is what makes it more interesting!

[bumblingbabooshka]

"Everything you went through was meaningless." [St Voyager S3 E7: 'Sacred Ground']

[boypussydilf]

“Nova was basically OBSESSED with Casper.” HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. THERE IS HATRED IN MY SOUL AND IN MY BODY. ANGER

[agnesandhilda]

my father is an olympic gold medalist in the sport of emotionally tormenting women

[ta1is]

in honor of the time i sent my gf a feverish voice message in discord prattling on about this, i must now torture the dash with it:

jayce's greatest strength and simultaneously greatest weakness is his empathy

he so effortlessly understands where people are coming from, and that makes it exceptionally hard to decide who's right, who's wrong, who he should be supporting, who he should be standing against . . . if you genuinely and wholeheartedly understand every single standpoint in an issue, what do you actually fckn do?

that's his achilles heel throughout the show. he has core values he ends up straying from because he's so empathetic toward everyone else's causes. he's gullible because his emotional literacy makes him prone to understanding basically anyone even if he didn't originally agree with them or still doesn't

the recipe for a bIGGER disaster is him also being a people pleaser. he's scrambling to appease everyone, bolstered by his innate ability to put himself in everyone's shoes— yeah, no fuckin duh he ends up screwing most everything up royally because this boy is constantly trying to do the impossible and stretching himself thinner than viktor

he's so real for that jfc jayce we're really in it now