#because suddenly he has no fucking idea where he is

[juricel]

heyyy its me again

I have a silly request for you which you can ignore if you want to, since I think your ask box is piling up haha!

basically,

Yandere reader x pre corrupt shadow milk cookie turns to reader x Yandere shadow milk cookie

Reader, at first is super obsessed and does a lot of stuff for pre-corrupted shadow milk cookie and hes like super disgusted by how they’re acting. And suddenly, reader disappears one day, and hes fine with it

beasts get corrupted then get jailed,,

while in jail shadow milk cookie misses how loving y/n was, and realised that he has taken them for granted </33 And now he wants them back because of how love deprived he became

when hes out of the silver tree he see’s y/n again and at first hes all hip hip hooray !! until he sees that y/ns clinging onto the THIEF!!!

he goes batshit crazy, you can be creative with this if you want or just give your little ideas/comments I just really want more food wahah

so sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, it’s 2am :’)

tysm for reading oh great one!! you don’t have to do this right away dont worry love ur work already

—💤non

a/n: it's okay, i understand what you were aimimg for! I focused on the other requests before this one and had some church duties to do, so I apologize for having you need to wait for so long.

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x past yandere! reader (ft. the bus driver, pure vanilla cookie.)

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .��՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, physical abuse, heavy possessive and obssessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, implied mindbreak, corruption, objectification, stalking, pure vanilla cookie needs a fucking break, one of these warnings is not like the rest, potential ooc.

𖦁 blueberry milk cookie was a heaven sent gift from the witches above, he was a celestial jewel, an angel's whisper brought down to earth, the very breath of seraphim—an impossible, transcendental blessing cradled in the tender arms of witches' own grace. he was a splendid confection, kneaded from divine essence, destined to scatter blessings upon the crumbed multitudes of earthbread—a being way out of your league, you, an ordinary cookie who could crumble and wither into a flour with not a single eye batting to your direction.

𖦁 ah, but how radiant he was, you couldn't help yourself from your love, your dear, your luminous, immortal darling. does he even know? does he grasp the way his mind glows, the way his thoughts spill like molten gold onto the parchment of your very soul? he was your everything, your love—your guiding star, your perfect darling, your sole, necessary breath. and yet, the world, the pitiful, ignorant world, could not comprehend his brilliance, like a mere toy, they had molded him, and cast him aside once their utilitarian need had been served; they did not deserve him. no, the world could not deserve him—those who fail to recognize the sacredness of his mind, who treat his wisdom as commonplace, who look upon him without the reverence of a disciple at the feet of a god—it sickens you, stirs a fury deep within your chest. in the hollowed, gleaming corridors of his towering spire, you would see them—fawning, indulging in their miserable, blind inanities, lost in the sick lies they prefer over the sublime truth he alone could offer. and mind you, it was he—he—who spent his invaluable time, his precious moments, entangled with these dull, odious fools, these imbecilic cookies just for them to throw it away! he should not have to share his divine self with such paltry, uninspired creatures. no, no, no. you could not abide it. you would sever every connection, carve away every distraction, erase every tether that pulled him from you. and if it were required to cloak him in the softest, most unrelenting shadow, to shield him from the world that could never grasp his greatness, to hide him where only your gaze could drink in the luminous glow of his mind—so be it. you would protect him, cherish him, and keep him safe from those who could never understand him as you do.

𖦁 yet, he couldn't seem to understand it all; with every embrace, a look of disdain was given to you, as if you were a taint smeared upon heavens, can't he understand? these cookies were the one that were evil! they will defile him, corrupt his very name with degeneracy! you were merely shielding him away from the evil, how could he not comprehend that? he must've been brainwashed. yes, surely, or so that was what you wanted to believe, however, all his actions proved otherwise: with every touch, he recoiled, like a skittish moth repelled by the flame it once sought. with every affectionate word, he replied in clipped, mechanical syllables, blunt and cold, each one landing with the weight of a slammed door. there was no love in them—no warmth, no hesitance, no trace of a feeling that might, by some miracle, have softened the harsh lines of his indifference. you learned quickly that tenderness was a language he neither spoke nor cared to decipher. a hand reaching for his own was met with a perfunctory pat, a touch devoid of meaning, as if acknowledging, rather than returning, the gesture. you could pour all your warmth into him, let it trickle down the cracks in his facade, but he would not absorb it. He remained, steadfast in his distance, near enough to torment, far enough to elude. you tried to believe in the silences, in the space between his words, in the possibility that somewhere beneath that marble exterior, there was something that resembled love. but hope, much like affection, was wasted on him. you tried, really! to continue loving him, you truly did, but, ah, your feelings leisurely diminished into grains of flour until your love turned into rust and dust.

𖦁 it wasn't long until then your unfortunate sweet dear darling, the celestial beacon in your life was sullied into taint when you vanished into thin air. from graces, he fell, and into the bottom of the endless pit of corruption.

𖦁 and oh, how much he changed: in the cold, lonely cell, he reminisced the past, thought of you, thought of your oh so tender gentle caresses! and to say that it made him deprived of warmth, made him ache—hunger not for food, but for yours was an understatement. he sought and yearned for it, hunger gnawed, a sensation with fangs, sharp and insistent, curling inside his ribs like a starved serpent. he gwaned for you—not sweetly, not poetically, but in the way of a body denied water, of lips cracked and trembling at the edge of a mirage. oh, to be held, to be devoured, to be anything but this wretched hunger pressing against the ribs, licking at the throat, whispering: more, more, more... ah! he couldn't stop it! he promises to himself that he'd apologize to you and pamper you with affection once he gets out of this petulant little silver tree!

𖦁 and he'd definitely stick to his word; the moment he flees from the withering tree binding him and his allies, he had his priorities straight: to find his dear darling! he was beyond ectastic, thoughts filled of embracing you once more and kissing you, but, ah, none could prepare him for the sight that would unfold infront of his very gaze—his sweet puppet was linking arms with /him/. at first, he laughed, he chuckled and brushed it off, no, no, surely he was just presuming things! there was no way his dear would betray him and replace him with such a... ungracious caricature of a cookie, right? right? if you were, he'd definitely need to give you a better eyes as a replacement which was a no worries for him! he has a nice stock of replacement! surely, you wouldn't stoop down to that level of degeneracy. yet, you didn't approach him like he thought and dreamed of within the silved tree, you only took a cautious step back, away from him, away from your perfect celestial darling and to the burlesque version of himself, realization dawned and it made him seeth with anger.

𖦁 blasphemous! how dare you! you superseded his spot with this thing?! to betray him was one thing, but to replace him with this cheap copy of himself whom hadn't grown ever slightly intelligent despite wielding his own power?! you little pest! he'll make you pay for this. oh, and, don't worry your pretty little brain! he promises to be much, much more tender than he will be to him, it will be grand, a show that will mark itself in earthbread's history. so won't you be a good little dear and wait till he finishes his one last marionette show before tending to you?

𖦁 and as for the destiny of the silly little thief... ah, he vows to make him taste his own medicine and he'll make certain it will be a fate worse than crumbling away! he wasn't gonna kill him, no, no, death was far too gentle, he was gonna corrupt him, brainwash his mind with sweet, insidious poison, and distort his reality into a glistening hall of mirrors where every reflection was a lie, every whisper a trick of the light. he would unravel, unravel most grotesquely, as his reason frayed like moth-eaten silk, his thoughts dissolving into the same exquisite delirium that had once seized his own skull in its venomous embrace! and most importantly, he was gonna make him feel like what it felt like to be in his place! he stole his soul jam and now you, surely he doesn't think he can get away with that, can't he? no, no, if he wants to take from him so badly, he was gonna make him /him/.

𖦁 but ah, don't be so upset, dear. shouldn't you be exhilarated? he's giving you the attention you craved for, the attention you digged the sand and soils for until your fingers scarred and numbed for, the attention you yearned and sought for like a madman. so, why won't you clap, give your sweet jester an applause for his spectacular show? don't tell him you were still concerned of pure vanilla cookie! he simply put him in the right path, the road down to the deepest depths of hell, of course, but it was still a befitting destination!

𖦁 yet, still, still, you prattled on, fretting that lovely little head of yours over pure vanilla cookie—his name tumbling from your lips like some sacred incantation, a hymn to a god too distant to listen. and oh, how it curdled something deep inside him, how it set his very marrow alight with a fury so exquisite it was almost pleasure. could you not see? he was here. here, before you, in all his resplendent, fevered devotion, and yet you—blind, foolish, maddening thing—spoke of another. oh! perhaps a lesson was in order. yes, yes, that's right, a lesson. a gentle one, at first—he was, after all, a man of remarkable patience. a game, then, a little amusement, something to turn those wandering thoughts back where they belonged. he would not interrupt, no, never that. he would only guide, nudge, mold. and in the end, oh, you would see. you would understand. you would learn.

𖦁 and to say the wait had been merely excellent would be a crime of understatement, a paltry insult to the fevered anticipation that had coiled and uncoiled within him for so long. no, the outcome was a marvel beyond the bounds of mere expectation. you were back, back as you had been, intact, whole—his darling, his own, still in possession of that precious, once-fractured self. giddy with triumph, he would fall against you, arms encircling the exquisite stillness of your form, his dear darling, still and unresponsive—your gaze, those glassy and depthless eyes, did not meet his but stretched past him, unfocused, fixed upon some distant and nameless horizon. there was no flicker of recognition, no gentle return of his embrace. and yet, he clung to you, triumphant, unbothered by your silence, unshaken by your vacancy. you were here. that was more than enough.

a/n: I've received like... so many requests featuring pure vanilla cookie with yandere shadow milk cookie after i made that one post... do you guys want him dead? anyways, i just lost my pity in the guaranteed banner to fucking sherbet cookie. i need frost queen to turn him into snow once again... can someone bless me their mystic flour luck, ill give you my burning spice who is currently 4 stars (f2p)

[ablobwhowrites]

Hi I saw your scenario on robbers and I have my own idea

Imagine reader having one of those standing showers and Yarnaby probably not understanding he can't fit joins anyway cause reader to being stuck between Yarnaby and the shower wall and Doey and Mommy longlegs need to force Yarnaby out so reader can continue their shower

(kissy missy likes to draw with crafty corn and you can't change my mind.)

Yarnaby does this with every hallway and door way. Like he is a unmovable force and if you lock a door, he will scratch up the door until hes realizes, he can break down the door so he just ends up body slamming the door down. Basically y/n has the most movable force and the most unmovable force and it's a struggle. Cause imagine if y/n was a popular streamer and just seeing this fucking unit of yarnaby like walts behind y/n like nothing until he's out of sight and if their chat every asks about what the hell just walked behind y/n, bro will just be like "what?" And look behind them as if they didn't see yarnaby walk behind them from their screen.

Totally imagine when y/n tries to be in the bathroom in peace like trying to shit in peace then suddenly they hear yarnaby scratch at the door and y/n has to ask someone who get yarnaby away because this will be the 3rd door ruined this week alone. Plus after the robber situation yarnaby has been a bit more aggressive to new voices and to new people and I love the thought of boogie bot and bunzo watching a horror movie and ended up getting freaked out so bad and they sleep in y/n's room for the next week because they where so scared that Freddy Krueger would come after them cause they watched the movie. And they are ban from being having the remote unsupervised for 3 weeks.

Also imagining that dogday just playing five nights at Freddy's as the other smiling critters watch and y/n was walking past their work room and saw dogday playing FNAF and y/n was like "what night are you guys on?" And dog day trying to lock in so KickinChicken just saying that dogday is on night 6 and y/n is just about to walk off "watch out for golden Freddy" and y/n walks off and hears the golden Freddy jumpscare scream and dog day scream with it. (He almost got to 6am and got this idea from that one fanart) dog day can't play fortnite cause he stood in shock when he got his first kill in the game and he doesn't like Fortnite.

Also if the nightmare critters ever come to y/n. They let them in but the other toys be side eyeing them cause doey knows that baba chops bit the shit out of y/n once and ripped off a chunk of y/n's arm and other nightmare critters in the factory basically bit, scratched and the was kinda main reason y/n was was bloody and beaten (the other toys did to buy y/n forgave them but the toys still feel horrible for it) the nightmare critters promise to try and be helpful and they do but the other toys are still suspicious and keeps a close eye on the nightmare critters.

[imustbenuts]

Wolfwood is an underdog character screwed by social hierarchy and Japanese cultural subtext more ways than one: a messy half-assed write up.

This is me saying that Wolfwood is in no way the equivalent of 'white' or even near the top in terms of class even when viewed with a Japanese lens and there's at least a few threads you can follow that will lead up to that conclusion. So to try and (badly) cover this topic as best as I can, the sections highlighted in this post will be the following

Colorism and imperialism

Tribes and burakumin

Shintoism and the burakumin people

Wolfwood's entire fucking design

I explode

Colorism

So in short. Asia has a colorism problem on top of a racism problem, but people like me get really frustrated when a more American POV is applied to try and shoehorn the discussion into purely racism. The reason is: history.

So. Japan was super imperialist back in history. And so was China, which Japan took many inspiration from in terms of language, culture, and most importantly, governance.

In order for their particular system of governance to work, both China and Japan ended up having their own respective court systems where the aristocrats and nobility would spend their days indoors as they administer governance. (Or more accurately, to be so educated, cultured and refined as the world outside implodes.) Thanks to this system, there is essentially a walled garden system where the well-educated nobles would spend their time well away from hard labor like farming under the sun.

This meant there is a greater amount of favoritism towards fairer skinned people as opposed to tan, since it became a quick indicator of class and status. Bc only laborers tended the field under the harsh sun, and women got this especially bad, bc imagine her having to tends the field like a peasant. Gasp.

Anyway bada bing bada boom white skin eventually became so associated with beauty and status. The old poverb, "色の白いは七難隠す", or White skin covers seven flaws, refers to women with pure white (sometimes powdered) skin is attractive no matter what their physical flaw might be. Think Geishas and their job of entertaining at private events with a face full of white powder makeup.

This colorism also hits men less, but the idea of status stays.

...Wink. (To note the above gif here for a sec: IMO Vash doesn't qualify as desirable purely because he's a blonde. A foreigner. An Other. But the hiding flaws part might be worth chewing on.)

And now we suddenly are looking at some kind of a vague hierarchical system. And indeed, Japan has had a caste system of sorts in with varying degrees of social mobility depending on which era you look at. The lowest in some era were slaves. And even then, there is another class even lower than that, the Burakumin. Put a pin in this bc it'll be important in the next part.

Tribes and Burakumins

There are actually, in fact, different tribes in Japan even today. Current day, the well known ones are the Yamato people, who make up 98% of the population in Japan. Mostly fair skin, black hair. East Asian.

Then there are the Ryukyuans, who live mostly in okinawa with their own culture, and then the Ainus.

I don't want to get even MORE historical, but those two groups were conquered and forcibly had their culture identity, language, and even land stripped off them. Attempted to have loyalty towards the emperor instilled towards them at various points. One might think the presence of these two might mean that there were more tribes back in ancient Japan, and, yes, you would be right!

Many of them might have been assimilated into what we think of as Japanese people today. There are always variation in skin color, hair color and facial features alone if one pays attention even in Tokyo. Not all East Asian are fair skin and have straight black hair, but an overwhelming majority do. (plus hair dyes and perms wahoo. who's to know sometimes)

One example perhaps is this. Ever watched Princess Mononoke? Did you know that part of the story centers around Ashitaka, who is part of the Emishi tribe, who are a group who has been rebelling against the Emperor Yamato for 500 years? And so he shoots samurais on the regular?

So here's the rub: the Emishi were in fact a real indigenous group who were basically conquered and assimilated. Some did resist during the 11th century, with their villages/hamlet out deep into the north of Japan. They were of course, greatly outnumbered.

These people who resisted the rule all over Japan with different identities, names and culture and survived came to be called the Eta 穢多 (lit. abundance of filth). Later, Burakumin.

Now I mentioned the Burakumins. Burakumin are written like this 部落民, and refer to a strongly discriminated class of people who live in discriminated villages/hamlet. The kanji though, literally translates to "People who falls outside of the order", or, "Outcasts". In other words, even though there's a caste system which basically at least recognizes people as part of a governing system, the Burakumins do not qualify to even as to be human in this system.

And indeed, some of these tribes who had their culture and identity stripped off them are not even people in the eyes of the ruling government. Today, the term refers to the descendants of these people, and they do encounter a lot of discrimination and abuse in their daily lives from social to work. It's so bad that parents do not tell their children of the ancestry to avoid discrimination. Also its possible to know if one is a burakumin just by checking family names and registers jsyk, since they were once location based.

EDIT: those judged to be criminals also become part of this group!

More info by a Japanese guy regarding current day burakumin problem here on youtube.

Oh and also, many burakumin ended up joining criminal gangs like the yakuzas. Put another pin in this.

Shinto and the Burakumin people

Preface: shinto is a very sacred religion to many Japanese people and is still actively practiced today. Be respectful and just know I'm being hyper specific about this singular aspect of shinto. It is a very old religion and history which is fascinating.

But to not talk about this specific topic would be to kinda miss what Studio Orange has been doing to Stampede Wolfwood so I'm just gonna do this super quick. A more indepth messy write up can be found here if you like.

Right. So. Like with many religion, Shinto was also used as a means to convince people to fall in line. One thing that Shinto has is the concept of spiritual dirtiness, which is generated upon contact with death, blood and disease. Being dirty would then draw evil spirits and invite terrible misfortunes, so being clean is important in Shintoism. So important that meat was considered dirty. (With the exceptions of game meat and the whole religion thing applied to them.)

It's so important that certain professions such as Butchers, Tanners, Gravediggers etc were seen as so terrible that no one but the etas, the burakumins would do it. This whole thing then reinforces the hierarchy. And meanwhile the rulers in their court and shinto priests could conduct rituals to purify themselves.

And for me, this is the most insane thing since dirty jobs like that must be done no matter what era it is. Just by being alive, people get dirty and there's no avoiding that.

Anyway. In Trigun and even Japanese media, this gets translated into what I would call The Tormented Ones Whose Hands Are Permanently Stained With Blood.

Nicholas the Undertaker was certainly an interesting choice of writing. At least imo.

FUcK

Ok now to recap. I've established that even without colonization and talking about (american pov) racism specifically, there are still very real elements of Japanese history that is too strong, too deep, to intertwined with classism to ignore.

This is the historical baggage of Japan's colorism. Whether or not if Wolfwood is a burakumin here is not the point, but rather that it borrows from that issue all of its influence in varying shades.

It's the erasure of ethnicity and culture in its totality, or to be so consumed by the bigger ruling group that this thread straight up disappears. And to be considered so unwanted that even their descendants today are considered dirty.

They abolished the feudal caste system in the 1800s by the way. Still dealing with like over a thousand years' worth of shit though.

Now I can finally talk about Wolfwood.

Wolfwood's entire character design and writing choice.

Since trimax wolfwood is the base, I'll start with that.

Dark(er) skin, sunglasses, a business suit and a kansai dialect.

All of those are significant.

Now remember that I've mentioned Fair Skin and Black Hair to be the most defining trait of an East Asian. Even people who say East Asian even casually have that specific image in mind. But Wolfwood with the exception of BLR has always been depicted as just slightly tanned especially beside Vash.

The shade fluctuates all the time depending on the artwork, but it's clear that the production staff knows the roots his character design is touching on in order to elicit that "otherness" from the Japanese audience. Which is all that above. The entire post.

Sunglasses and business suit also has a significance. One might think it's just the outfit of an average Japanese salaryman, and yes, that would be technically correct. More so though, this combo is also the outfit style of the Yakuza. Sans ties maybe bc Ww hates his organization.

This is a picture of a Yakuza group known as the Yamaguchi-gumi. Their leader stands in the middle of this photo, the oyabun/father of the group, Kuzuo Taoka. More info and another rabbit hole here.

The Yakuza are a historically violent criminal gang whose membership often consisted of societal outcasts. Outcasts like the Burakumins, who due to their status in society could not find a proper job, and suffer abuse. Being in the Yakuza meant respect and status, and turned boys into men.

All that was needed is absolute loyalty to the leader, the oyabun or the patriarch of the group. If he says it, white is black and black is white. Disloyalty means to chop one's finger off.

If any of this sound even familiar.... Well, yeah. Unhinged criminal boss Knives and his merry Gung Ho Guns.

Next, kansai dialect. So, Japanese dialects are never properly taught when one attempts to learn Japanese. It's a thing that's not Standard and therefore unnecessary to learn. We learn the -desu's, -masu's, the keigo, but never the '-yan's', the 'eenen', the 'akan' or the chau's. (Or even the many other dialects out there)

I will now ask you to hold the idea that 'dialect' and 'language' can be interchangeable. The implications of the Standard Japanese is that it is the ruling class' language and the most proper form of it above all else. Seeing as the Capital of Japan is Tokyo, and their government centers there, it would not be stretch to also call Standard Japanese Tokyo Japanese.

Which means, Tokyo is the classy city and Osaka, the largest city in Kansai, is not as classy. Not as important. Not as well educated or hold as important of a place to the entire country.

It is also very common to hear Japanese people mask their dialect with Standard Japanese when they're in Tokyo, and then go back to their hometown and code switch. Because it's considered 'hick'.

Which, if you haven't considered is also a thing many of us do, I now present you the gift of this fun knowledge.

I Explode

In closing I hope this at least is interesting to chew on for anyone interested. It's by not means perfect and I might have gaps in my knowledge but fwiw, I hope it's at least fun.

Nightow has stated Wolfwood's ethnicity is ambiguous, which I would also interpret as him saying indirectly that Wolfwood is as valid an interpretation to see him as anything but a privileged guy having a good time in the story of Trigun.

It's possible that his ambiguity of roots is meant to simply elicit the idea of a "stolen child".

One fun thing I do consistently notice is that Fanon Wolfwood almost never is in a comfortable position in life even in AUs, and always somewhat broke. In both EN and JP. Which, yeah. Yeah.

There is intersectionality going on and I hope this post helps people see some of it at least. So thanks for reading! (sorry it got so long...)

Additional cool posts other people have written from their pov:

udon-tea's write up about wolfwood's unestablished canon ethnicity

interesting thoughts about tortoise matsumoto being the base and what they think of wolfwood's possible ethnicity

[badhairred]

Taste my Anger

A little microfic made for this beautiful piece of art. This is dedicated to @spookeart for the art and @blackthornwine who actually gave me the idea in the first place. Thank you for putting this in my head and enjoy this little gift🤍🤍

Moonwater - 1632 words - tags: Regulus/Remus, Post prank anger, smoking, shotgun.

“For once in your life, Sirius, think about someone else than bloody you! You hurt people, you are cruel when you want to be and don’t go saying you didn’t want to because if you hadn’t you wouldn’t have,” Remus bristles, hands balled into fists, his blood boiling and the pencil the bag that had been hanging loosely off his shoulder had flown open and papers where scattered around them. James looks at Remus with wide, horrified eyes, and Peter is looking between him and Sirius, who looks as white as a ghost, like he is following a very tense match of chess. “I am done!”

“Moony, I–”

“No,” Remus whirls back around, his curls sparking at the ends as his magic gets away from him. It has been such a long time since he hasn’t been in control of his magic, the wolf in his chest coming out even when he’s in human form and bringing out the worst of him. “Don’t call me that, fuck off Sirius. Truly. Fuck. Off.”

Sirius doesn’t try again when Remus turns on his heel and stomps around the corner. He doesn’t know where exactly he is going. He just needs to run, get away, calm the fuck down. Fumbling in his pocket he fishes for a cigarette, lighting it with a snap of his fingers –which might not have been the best idea because half of the cigarette burns up already from the intensity of the magic– before taking a long drag.

Luckily there is no one in the hallway, seeing as it’s dinner time and everyone is down in the great hall. His feet carry him without him actually giving them directions. There are two stairs, another corridor, a corner, and a hidden passage up another winding staircase. He just walks. Moving, for the sake of getting away.

James can try and play the peace broker all he wants, Remus will never forgive Sirius. The guy might act all high and mighty, the first to be brave instead of cunning but there is enough poison in him to still be a snake. He betrays his friends so easily for his own gain, bullying for his own amusement and being cruel just because he can get away with it by swishing his insane hair or flashing that million-gallon smile. No more. Remus is done.

When he puts out the fag at the bottom of his shoe and reaches for the next, he realises he has finally reached a corridor he recognises. In his blind fury, he had just let his subconscious guide him and it clearly needed to find itself to a place no one knows about. He sinks down on the windowsill of the empty corridor on the fifth floor that ends in a dead end and so is rarely visited by other students –or teachers.

Reaching in his backpack Remus is suddenly grateful for his wolf, who had been so on edge because of the whole ordeal already that Remus had the clearance of mind to stuff his weed, baccy and long rolling paper in the bottom of the pack, hidden under his parchments and quills.

Absemindedly he goes into autopilot and starts rolling the spliff while he leans his head against the open window. The cold autumn air greets him like little shards cutting his skin and he revels in the feeling as he watches over the ground. The sun has already gone down behind the mountains on the other side of the black lake and the ground is quickly getting doused in darkness. The ripple of the wind makes the tops of the trees of the forbidden forest move like a sea of dark green, while the smoke from Hagrid’s hut crinkles into the sky.

Remus takes a deep sigh, letting the sereneness of the dawn wash over him. His breathing returns to normal while his hands have frozen in their action of rolling the spliff when his eyes fall on the shadow of the lonely, big willow tree. Its branches move against the wind faster than should be possible and when a bird that is trying to find shelter for the night gets a little too close it nearly escapes the clutches of the violent tree.

The Whomping Willow.

The tree was supposed to protect Remus during his transformation, it was supposed to be his secret and his burden to bear. Shaking his head he adverbs his gaze and pushes the feelings of rage that resurface back down. Sirius is a stuck-up prick, he thinks Remus will always cave in the end, forgive him when he comes up with weak excuses and bring up his family.

“What are you doing here?”

Remus looks up from the finish spliff in his hand. Speaking of the devil. Regulus is looking down at him, arms crossed and one eyebrow lifted. The permanent scowl on Regulus Black’s face doesn’t make the boy less attractive.

“What’s it look like?” Remus retorts, holding up the unlid spliff in his hand before bringing it to his lips and keeping eye contact with his fellow prefect as he lits the thing and takes a drag. Daring.

Regulus’ eyes shoot from the burning tip to Remus’ eyes and back down to his lips where the smoke is just escaping into the air. There is a calculating look in his sharp green eyes and Remus feels like he is biting back a million questions.

The day has been shit. Well, to be honest, the last two weeks have been shit and Remus is just mad enough to take any chance to piss off his friends at this point. “Wanna hit?”

Regulus’ eyes widen and he uncrosses his arms as he scales Remus up, trying to figure out if he is sincere.

“Where’s your following?”

Remus scoffs. “I don’t have a following.”

As he moves to come to stand in front of Remus Regulus lets out a scoff. “Oh yes, my bad, it’s my brother’s following.” Remus tries to keep his expression blank but something must slip through the cracks because he is treated of the rare sight of Regulus smirking. “What’s that? Trouble in paradise?”

“You wanna smoke or not?” Remus asks him, avoiding the question and holding the spliff up to the younger Black.

Regulus looks like he wants to keep prodding about the situation but he seems to decide against it. He eyes the spliff again and an uncertainty flickers over his face. “I never–”

“Didn’t think you had,” Remus chuckles darkly. “Come here.” Remus is toeing a dangerous line but he doesn’t care at this point. The haze in his mind from the drags he had taken himself is just enough to justify how he reaches his arm around Regulus and tucks him closer. He watches how his breath catches and wonders why the younger one is here at that moment.

“Why are you here?”

“I come here sometimes,” Regulus admits after a beat of silence. “To think.”

“Mhm,” Remus nods, looking up, seeing the slightest hint of freckles on his face he had never seen before, only visible when you get up close to the boy. “Tilt your head up a little.”

And to Remus’ astonishment, Regulus obeys the instruction. Remus doesn’t know why Regulus wants to be alone, or what he wants to think about but the fact that he so easily follows Remus’ instructions, no back talking, no jokes or snide remarks. Just a tilted head, coming close to his, waiting for the next thing that is going to happen.

With the smoke in his mouth, Remus leans in and uses his thumb to open up Regulus’ mouth before he leans in and lets the smoke billow out, landing on the other’s tongue. “Inhale.”

Regulus does, taking a sharp breath and letting the smoke reach his lungs. He doesn’t cough or lean away. His expression is still saying nothing but his eyes, it’s those emerald greens that tell Remus how much Regulus needed this. Maybe just as much as he.

“Your brother can be an utter fucking dickhead,” Remus sighs out, leaning back just the tiniest bit, keeping his eyes trailed on Regulus’ who looks at him as if he is trying to read his mind.

“Don’t I know it,” the boy answers. He tilts his head up, crooking it a bit to the side resulting in Remus’ hand falling from his chin. “Want to piss him off?” Remus only nods as Regulus points his eyes to the spliff. He inhales once more and instead of him guiding Regulus it’s Regulus who lays his hand on Remus’ cheeks, bringing him to his mouth.

Remus would have choked on the smoke if it was still in his mouth when Regulus closes his lips around Remus’ in earnest. The smoke is shared between them as their tongues come together in the sweetest yet most passionate kiss Remus had ever experienced. He keeps the spliff out of their way, not to burn the younger boy by accident as he tightens his grip on Regulus’ waist. The feeling of Regulus’ cold rings against his skin only adds to all the feelings that course through his body.

Where his blood had been boiling before from rage it was now set ablaze by this single kiss.

Regulus breaks away, leaning back and opening his eyes with a flutter of his lashes. Remus stares back at the boy who is not saying anything before he steps out of the embrace and takes the spliff from Remus’ hand to take a slow drag. Before Remus can wrap his mind around what just happened he is looking at Regulus’ retreating back.

“Black!” Remus calls after him and Regulus turns his head around with a smirk.

“See you, Lupin. Thanks for the hit.”

[maaenyo]

I'm not responding to this for you, rather i'm doing it so whoever finds the post is not so mislead by your bias. Really, your attitude at the end of the post is unfortunate, like who died and named you master of the lore?? Specially when you're getting it wrong.

I don't know where you got that from, i've played the game enough and don't recall such a statement. The Blight is contained in the Black City, that's why it's black. There's hardly any doubt about this idek why it's a point at all

The Fade has spirits, spirits represent or mirror emotions, ideas, concepts. Some are positive, others are negative, they're still spirits. The Veil separating reality changed everyone's perception of things, spirits once used to the fluid nature of the Fade were suddenly faced with a stagnant reality that didn't adjust to their will; crossing the Veil becomes a traumatic experience that literally changes their composition. This resulted in aberrations and other scary things that humans called demons. Whatever humans fail to understand always gets demonized. In the harrowing of a circle mage Warden we meet Sloth, a so called demon. The Fade is full of desire demons tempting mages all the time. We have seen this many times both in games and other media like the comics. Nightmare was not an anomaly only present because of Corypheus, call it demon, spirit or whatever, it was always there to begin with because fear is one of the most ancient and natural emotions of life. I agree demons are spirits too, but the lore states very clearly they don't just turn negative by crossing through the Veil, they ARE already present in the Fade from the start.

Another idea you pulled out of..somewhere, idk, i've never read anything like it. The Veil choking?? the life and magic out of Thedas? The Veil is an unfortunate by-product of the Evanuris prison, whatever went wrong in Solas' ritual caused the barrier meant to contain the Evanuris and the Blight in the Black City to extend further and contain the entire Fade apart from the rest of the world. And it's a VEIL. Not a wall, not just any barrier, but a VEIL. Veils are usually of see-through fabric, they're not rock solid, they allow for some things to pass through, and the Veil gets thinner in some places, making that even more likely to happen. And things have been passing through, pushing through for ages; it's only been ripped open in places a few times (Magisters Sideral, Corypheus, the occasional mage fucking shit up). A Veil ripped open is what we see in Inquisition, with the Breach and the tears all over, and in future Redcliffe as well, a Veil torn and taken down carelessly. It's not a wall -unless you count the shield Gaxkang drops called "Fade Wall" which if you think about it is indeed a way of seeing the Veil-, if it were it'd take more than a knife to open it. I think there's a confusion between the Veil, the Fade and the prison Solas made. The whole thing is like a freaking onion, i once posited all the circles in the murals were a barrier between a barrier and i was correct, there's the Veil surrounding the Fade -an accident- and the containment around the Black City. You don't wanna consider it, fine, but that does not erase the fact DAV clearly states multiple times that the Blight is in the Black city and Elgar'nan is trying to break in to get it out; it's not just chilling everywhere in the Fade.

I'll just point this out because I think is hilarious you did it: first you say he doesn't lie. Massive retcon, right? Oh he doesn't lie. Then you say he's an absolutely terrible liar. Which one is it? Either he never lies, or he lies poorly (which is still lying, mind you), you can't have both. Also, every damn single time he uses the "i saw it in the Fade" excuse he IS lying. We know he didn't see shit in the Fade, he lived it, he was there when things happened for thousands of years. Tricksters trick but also lie, a lot, lying it's a big part of their trickery. You failing to grasp this is entirely on you, and sorry not sorry but you don't get to define any aspect of the lore like this when even you contradicted yourself! This is the point that got me to write a lengthy counter because it is ridiculous, and i say this as a lore fan, who played all the games, dlc, got all the books, comics, i even watched Redemption ffs, also as a Solas fan, a Solavellan even. Solas has lied more times i care to count. Not just by omission, but actively lied. He spent all of Inquisition lying "oh i saw it in the Fade, i saw it in the Fade" dude you were there when it happened!! LOL Are you for fucking real? You literally went just "nuhn unh, Solas doesn't lie cause i say he didn't".

You can dislike the game all you want, but do yourself a favour and heed your own advice, listen to people who know the lore. Right now you just proved you don't know it as well as you think, and that your interpretation of it is tainted with your bitterness over a game you didn't like, which whether you accept it or not will always be a Dragon Age game, and the lore it presents, whether you accept it or not, will always be Dragon Age lore.

I'm relegating you to the list of people who didn't understood shit about the lore and Dragon Age as a whole. I've spent YEARS diving into the lore, analyzing everything, got a whole blog dedicated to that, got a considerable number of things right in the process, but i always phrased things as maybe, might be, could be, because i'm well aware my word is not the law. Your attitude is the most annoying part of your post, you can have any headcanons you like but you're not a lore master and you don't get to twist things in your anger like that.

Do whatever you want, believe whatever you want. And using Veilguard as any sort of source for anything remotely related to canon Lore is just ridiculous. It's so... awful, IMHO, to use it to defend any sort of point.

I'm not certain if this would be considered critical, so I'll put it under a cut. Potentially critical of Veilguard.

Though I'm really just talking about the Lore.

I point out 4 massive retcons in Veilguard that blew my mind and that I see people commonly using as arguing points. And yes, if someone wants to pay me for the time, I can prove all of it with sources.

What little canon Lore they actually used in Veilguard? They twisted beyond recognition.

Just a few examples.

1. The blight is NOT, in fact, (or even in Veilguard) 'everywhere in the Fade'. It has always been contained to the Black City, that floats disconnected from everything else in the Fade. It's why the previously golden city is black ffs! Even in Veilguard, it's really damned obvious that the Fade isn't full of blight. We hop in and out of the Fade throughout the whole damned game like it's a shopping mall.

2. The Fade is not full of demons. Demons are spirits (people) of emotion. What usually twists them into demons is coming through the veil! The only reason there was the big demon in DAI is because it was attached to Coryphyfish. There's probably some, but it's an arguable point that an emotion spirit of, say, anger, or spite is actually a demon. Emotions aren't bad. They wouldn't automatically be demons simply because they reflect a negative emotion.

3. The veil has been canonically choking the life and magic out of Thedas for thousands of years. If the veil didn't come down, there would be no Thedas. This is clearly spelled out in canon. The veil was never meant to be part of the world. At the end of Trespasser, the veil is as holey as my grandmother's doilies. It's not as they tried to depict it in Veilguard, a firm, whole wall holding hordes of demons and the blight of blights back. That's such a bullshit retcon, and I make weird faces every time I try to figure out the mental gymnastics necessary for someone to come up with that idea.

4. It's also a massive retcon that Solas lies. (Sigh. Yes. It really is. No matter what you believe.) He canonically does not. They rewrote his character for DAI so that he doesn't lie because it weakened the character. He was originally written as much more similar to Blackwall. They decided it weakened Solas as a character and made sure he doesn't lie. He obfuscates, misleads, doesn't answer, and is really good at letting people make assumptions or even leading people to make assumptions. Because that is what a Trickster does! But in all of DAI and Trespasser, he does not lie except once. At the Winter Palace when you ask him where he got the experience of court. No. A 'lie of omission' is not a lie by the definition or philosophical understanding of what a lie is. You, as the player, not paying close attention to what he says doesn’t mean he lies either! He is not the 'god of lies'. That's Epler's hate shining through. Throughout 3 games, many dlcs, books, comics, short stories, the Dread Wolf is known as the Trickster. The god of rebellion and sometimes the god of betrayal. He is never once referred to as the god of lies in anything pre-veilguard. It's. Bullshit.

And Solas is an absolutely terrible liar. He stumbles all over himself trying to do it in the winter palace. It's hilarious tbh.

There were more retcons. But I need to go help with dinner.

Just, even if you liked Veilguard, don't use it as a defense in any sort of discussion of Lore. Perhaps listen to us Lore fiends, instead? Because they shat all over the Lore for Veilguard.

Real talk? It makes you look ignorant to anyone who actually has been paying attention to the Lore.

FWIW? I'm not in the best of moods right now. Please think twice, then a third time before responding/reblogging in disagreement. (Unless you're polite and actually have sources I haven't seen. I'm usually willing to have polite discussions or answer questions. I'm also willing to stand corrected if people actually can prove me wrong with sources attached. A 'nuhn unh, Solas lies cause I believe he does', won't get you far with me.) Nor will using anything from DAV to support an argument. I've relegated DAV to the graveyard of not-canon because of the complete disrespect of the Lore.

And I'll just laugh at you if you try to attack me. Internet randos filling my responses with shit doesn't phase me, bother me in the slightest, or make me upset. I find it incredibly, laugh out loud amusing because I've lived through so much more than that in my life.

[weird-is-life]

rockstar!peter anything!!!

i’m imagining that they have been texting for a while and reader surprised him at another show

Hiii lovely, ty for this request! Sorry it took so long🤕🤕🤕warnings: fluff, a few swear words, reader being dizzy, mentions of drinks, concert, overcrowded venue(1.4k)

You have been texting with Peter for a few weeks now, and things have been going great.

Texting with Peter is surprisingly easy. Given that he's a goddamnn rockstar and all. It's never awkward, and it seems like you always have something, anything to tell to each other.

But you haven't had the opportunity to finally meet up for a date. And it sucks, yeah, but you aren't rushing anywhere.

You know that he's busy with the band right now. Trying to keep up with all the offers, label deals and promotions is a lot for them. And since they are blowing up almost everywhere in the world you understand that Peter's putting the band first.

Still, you are kind of bumped about it, and so is Peter. He'd gladly squeeze the date somewhere into his busy schedule if he wasn't running on coffee these last few days.

Also Peter, being a hopeless romantic, wants the date to be perfect. So you just have to survive until his schedule clears up a bit.

Well that is until your crazy friends get this one idea. They see you kinda moping about not being able to meet up with Peter again so they irrationally buy you a ticket to one of the band's concerts.

You don't want to go at first, not wanting to seem like a totally mad person or something. But they convince you to go.

So a few days later, you go. You get all pretty for it, but nothing too crazy. It's still just a concert (yeah, that's exactly what you keep telling yourself).

When you arrive there, it's fully packed. There's so many people from the front to the back of the whole venue that you know that there's no way Peter will notice you.

You stay anyways. Because at least you can finally see Peter again, even if it's just from afar.

You 'elbow' your way as much to the front as you can. You get about halfway through the whole crowd when you can't get any farther.

You wait for the concert to start, and only a few minutes in between all those people leaves you sweating, and craving some water.

You, from your last experience, don't get any drink. You don't want to have your t-shirt soaked again. But as the minutes go by, and the concert still isn't starting you get really thirsty.

You still stay where you are, not moving even an inch. You haven't just pushed your way through all those people to leave right before the concert starts.

Finally, the stage lights up, and the band comes up. Peter looks as he has the last time you saw him. Devilishly handsome with the sleeveless t-shirt, messy hair and heartthrob smile. Your knees buckle a bit.

And it gets even worse when he starts singing. You actually have to pinch your arm to know you aren't dreaming. And that Peter, Peter fucking Parker, singing on the stage, is actually unashamedly texting, and flirting with you.

You are having a pretty great time until like the 3rd song when suddenly you get so so thirsty, and dizziness sweeps over you.

Afraid that you might pass out, and get stomped to death by the crowd you quickly push your way to the side of the venue. Hoping some security guard might give you something to drink.

You make it to the side, away from the crowd. You lean against the wall there, trying to breath through the dizziness, but it doesn't really work.

You think you are close to passing out when there's one hand on your shoulder, and the other shoves a bottle of water into your hands.

You look up, and find a familiar face staring at you. It's Mike. The band's personal bodyguard. Relief washes over you.

"Let's get you some fresh air, yeah?" He states, and leads you towards the backstage door. You are sitting in a dressing room with the windows wide open in a matter of seconds.

The cold air along with the water makes the spinning of the room go away while Mike keeps a close eye on you the whole time.

After a few more minutes of making sure you really are back to feeling okay, and that you won't pass out, you stand up.

"You good?" Mike asks, looking out for any suggestions of otherwise.

"Much better. Thank you so much, Mike. I'm so sorry for all this trouble," you start to walk towards the door. Ready to go back out there.

"Trouble? Are you kidding....I'm always here for the safety reasons, you know." You laugh at his response, but his face stays serious. Always on guard, at least you know Peter and the band are safe around him at all times.

"Well, thank you anyways. I'm gonna go now....-"

"Back there to pass out? Peter would literally kill me. So not a chance. Come on, follow me."

For a split of a second, you think that he's going to send you home. But no. You get exactly where you dreamed of being the whole night. Backstage.

You get to see the whole band again, but more importantly you get to see Peter. He looks even more handsome up close. He's covered in sweat now, singing his voice away, but he looks so so happy. It's a sight for sore eyes honestly. It makes your heart beat a bit faster.

Peter doesn't notice you for the first two songs you stand there. When he finally does notice you his eyes widen impossibly.

He stammers over a few words of the lyrics, and even plays the wrong chords. Peter, being the professional that he is, recovers from his little moment just as quickly.

A happy smile replaces his shocked face immediately. And he even sends a wink your way which, of course, makes you blush.

His change of emotion is very visible. And he isn't helping it at all because he keeps looking your way. Very obviously, may I add.

He does it for the rest of the concert even if you gesture for him to look straight ahead at the crowd. That he, of course, completely ignores.

Peter couldn't be more happy about the concert being over so he can finally come to you. You've been killing him standing at the side of the stage the whole time. Especially seeing you in his t-shirt.

His fucking t-shirt!

With one last wink at you he leaves the stage. He comes barrelling for you until you are in his arms. "What are you doing here?" He chuckles happily after he lets you out of his tight embrace.

"Surprise?" You just grin at him tentatively.

"Best fucking surprise," he grins fiercely right back at you, "my heart almost stopped when I noticed you backstage. It's like you wanted me to mess me up there, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," you smile sheepishly at him, your stomach full of butterflies from the pet name he used. "You were amazing though. I love the new song."

Peter takes your hand into his, and starts to pull you after him. "You do? Don't tell that to Theo his head would get too big if he heard you love his song."

You laugh, "where are you dragging me, Peter?" You almost stumble over your own feet, trailing after him as he walks you through many hallways.

"To my dressing room so I can get get dressed quickly, and take you out for a date," Peter responds. He says the word date so casually that you question if you have missed something.

"A date?" you ask quietly with wide eyes and small, awkward smile.

"Y-yes...I just figured since you're here that we could take this opportunity, and finally go....But we don't have to, of course, if you are not feeling up for it-"

"No, no, no, Pete. I'd love to! I just wasn't expecting it, that's all." You tell him. You squeeze his hand in reassurance along with a knee-buckling smile.

"Perfect, sweetheart. Just give me like 2 minutes, and then I'm all yours, " Peter kisses your cheek, and rushes to change out of his stage clothes. He leaves you standing there completely dumbfounded with your heart racing.

You have to take a few deep breaths to calm down. And also to prepare to be a complete lovesick mess after tonight's date with Peter.

[tgmsunmontue]

Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 14/?

Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.

Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.

Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN

Happy Birthday @caystar13star!

FOURTEEN

                The entire road trip is uneventful, even if his parents are surprised he’s handed over the plane he’s been obsessed with for over a decade to someone else. Jake is deliberately vague on the details, but has said he is getting expert help. He guesses Maverick counts as expert, even if he hadn’t known he was working on Transformers all these years. But it also explains the fact that he’s leaving again, which is a sort of relief because he doesn’t want to keep answering questions. Or rather avoiding answering questions.

                Of course, his family also side-eye Bradley carefully. It’s not like he has come out and told them he’s anything but straight, doesn’t need to make his home life harder as well as his career. He has no idea how his parents would take it to be honest. He’s never had a girlfriend though, always had his entire being focused on the sky, of joining the Navy. Has always said he didn’t want distractions.

                So, his parents have never asked, and he’s never brought it up. A DADT policy at home just as much as at work. He’s passed Bradley off as a fellow aviator, implied they’ve been friends for a while, glad Bradley had gone along with it. Gladder still that they’re leaving and he’s out from under their scrutiny.

…            …            …

                Jake’s family seem nice, although Jake seems to relax considerably once they’re on the road away from his home and Bradley has some theories but he’s not going to ask. While they might have been thrown together because of the Transformers, and are likely to become close friends, they aren’t there yet and Bradley isn’t stupid enough to throw obstacles in the way of that happening by asking potentially awkward questions.

                “Can we change the music?” Jake asks and Bradley snorts.

                “Nope. Driver’s choice…”

                “But… oh fuck. Seriously?”

                “Yep.”

                “Eighties hits all the way?” Jakes asks with a groan and Bradley laughs, because he’s used to them now. It beats the alternative, and he’s just about to say so when Uptown Girl stops suddenly, and he winces. Prepares for the volume increase and whatever horrible tune Bronco is going to force him to endure. At least Jake will suffer alongside him.

                “Oh god…” he mutters. “Yep. You insulted his music taste and now have to suffer the consequences…” But he’s actually prepared for this eventuality now, reaches behind him for his backpack where he keeps earplugs. The sound of Crazy Frog will be fine for five minutes, but after an hour Bradley would rather get out and walk. Jake seems to enjoying it though, bopping his head and Bradley wonders what Bronco will do now, because it sort of defeats the purpose if Jake likes the terrible music Bronco plays.

                Then the music is changing and it’s clear Bronco is trying to find something that Jake doesn’t like, and Bradley has to force himself not to laugh at what he’s sure is Bronco’s growing frustration in the face of Jake’s equanimity and apparent enjoyment of the wide variety Bronco is now playing. He’s moved from Crazy Frog to some rap, then hip hop and he’s now stuck listening to some opera, which Jake has closed his eyes to, and Bradley can only assume it’s so he can enjoy it more.

                “You really like music huh?”

                “Yeah. Next best thing to flying…”

                “So why did you ask if we could change the music?”

                “Just like mixing it up. I like the 80s stuff, but there’s so much more, right?”

                “Yeah. Bronco definitely has his favorites though.”

                “Fair. Play whatever you want buddy…” Jake says, and he pats the dash in a way that reminds Bradley of his own actions. Bradley sort of expects Bronco to simply shut off then, plunge them into silence with no music at all just to be contrary; but to his mild surprise the music keeps playing and they keep moving toward Fallon.

…            …            …

                Jake hasn’t got a lot of data to make comparisons, but Bronco seems happier in his vehicle state than that of their robot state. Starscream seems to be the opposite, or at least equally happy or settled in either. He wonders if time spent in one or other effects the way they interact with humans. Wonders if Maverick will have any insights, although Jake has his doubts considering he knew about Transformers before he did.

                Instead he’s asking Bradley about his experiences with Bronco, hearing all the funny anecdotes about how Bronco simply won’t let anyone else drive him and the grief it’s caused Bradley. The number of his friends that think his car is possessed or cursed. Jake didn’t go to college so he asks more questions about that, won’t touch the reasons why Bradley went that route with a barge pole, but it’s still interesting. Wonders if he’d have doubled-down with determination if he hadn’t gotten into the USNA.

                Now they’re going through their lists of people they’ve been in squads with, and of course Bradley has been flying a couple of years longer than him, so his list is longer but then he’s dropping Javy’s call sign.

                “You know Javy?”

                “Machado?”

                “Yeah,” Jake confirms. Bradley pulls a face, his eyes rolling and Jake frowns, he’s protective over Javy. “What have you heard?”

                “Natasha waxing lyrical mainly… I haven’t actually met him. Feel like I know plenty though.”

                “Wait… Natasha. You mean Trace?”

                “Yep. One and the same. You know her?”

                “Yeah. Holy shit. Small world.”

                Bradley snorts at that, and Jake supposes they’re in a pretty niche profession, everyone is going to know everyone else. If not personally at least will have heard of them.  But the fact that Bradley has heard about Javy from Trace means that maybe the hopeless crush Javy has isn’t as hopeless as he seems to think.

…            …            …

                They roll into Fallon under the cover of darkness, directed toward the largest hangar furthest from the main collection of buildings and Bradley is so glad that he’s going to have Bronco available to drive him around, hopes their accommodation is on base. The hangar doors slide open, light spilling out and once his eyes adjust he can see Starscream standing to the right, his eyes lit up and staring at them intently. The doors are rolling shut and before they’re even closed Starscream is leaning down, peering at them like he expects them to be damaged in some way. Jake isn’t even out of Bronco before Starscream is pulling him into what looks like a bone crushing hug and Bradley winces in sympathy.

                “Oh, ow, fuck… yeah. Hi buddy… you’ve got the hug thing down huh? Maybe a little, uh, less tight next time. My bones aren’t made of metal. They’ll break if you squeeze too tight…”

                “Oh. Hmm. Humans are… fragile.”

                “Yeah. Pretty breakable.”

                “I will be more careful in the future.”

                “I appreciate it,” Jake says, and he slaps Starscream on the shoulder, except the height difference means he’s reaching up and almost on tiptoes and it looks a bit ridiculous but the matching grins on Jake’s and Starscream’s faces is kind of cute. He gets out, expects Bronco to change, but nothing happens and he pulls a face and shrugs. Come as you are by Nirvana has started playing and Bradley forces himself to keep his expression impassive, even as Jake snorts.

                Admiral Courtney is there, and Bradley’s glad for small mercies that it’s him and not one of the others. He wants to ask where Maverick is, but also doesn’t want to sour the Admiral’s good mood if Mav has done something inadvisable recently. He’d sort of been expecting Mav to be there to greet them, a little surprised he isn’t. Regardless, they’re given packets with information, instructions and new swipe cards. A little part of him feels like a secret agent.

                Then they’re dismissed, let Bronco follow the directions to the base accommodation, and it’s meant for people much higher rank than them, but they’ve obviously thrown things into a slight disarray with their new knowledge of Transformers. There are three bedrooms and Bradley looks at all the open doors. There’s the master of course, with an en suite. While the house is clearly meant for an admiral with a family, it’s what they’ve been given, which is kind of nice. Definitely an improvement on carrier racks and other base accommodation. Now he just has to figure out where they’re going to sleep.

                They’ve only known each other a week, but they’ve spent every night either sharing a bed, or in the same room, Bradley bunking down on an air mattress in Jake’s childhood room while assuring his mom it definitely wasn’t the worse place he’s had to sleep. Or both fallen asleep slumped against each other as Bronco drove them toward Fallon. Despite it only being a week he’s gotten used to Jake being in his space almost constantly.

                “I’ll take the bedroom up there on the left.”

                “Yeah. Okay,” Bradley says, and he guesses that’s that then.

…            …            …

                He’s not sure what time he wakes up, but it’s too quiet, he can hear insects outside. He needs… something. More noise as a bare minimum, or ideally some company. Bradley. Down the hall. He swings his legs out of bed and stumbles down the hall, pushing open the door Bradley hadn’t even bothered to close all the way. He pushes the blankets out of the way so he can slide into the bed.

                “Wha…?” Bradley mumbles, still half asleep and Jake reaches over and just pats his arm, still half asleep himself as he burrows under the blankets.

                “Couldn’t sleep…” Jake whispers, and Bradley simply grunts, mumbles something Jake can’t make out and then seems to immedaiely go back to sleep, his soft deep beathing rhythmic and relaxing. Exactly what he was after and he promptly falls back to sleep himself.

…            …            …

                Pete is pretty sure he’s meant to have the Master bedroom, however he’s not sure he wants it. He sure as hell isn’t waking up Bradley or Seresin, simply closes the door and backs away quietly. It’s not like Ice would be staying here anyway, and the two of them can have the Master if they want it. He’s not going to be saying anything to anyone. Except Ice. He walks down the hall, sees Seresin’s duffle half unpacked and bed mussed up like he’s at least pretended to sleep in it.

                Smart kids. Pete remembers doing the same back when he was trying to throw people off the scent of him and Ice sleeping together. But damn does Bradley move fast.

[tangledinink]

aw poor swannie :( he must be so confused

For the most part, Swannie is feeling more... numb and tired than confused. There are certainly moments when he's disorientated or doesn't understand what's going on, but he can't really bring himself to care that deeply.

But he does still have his moments. There are occasional bursts of energy from him--

Or, on the other hand, rare moments when he will suddenly go very quiet, very still, very stiff--

The rest of the family quietly thinks of these as "my brother is being fucking possessed by a twelve-year-old child," moments. They may be far from the Lake, but Donatello and Odette's souls are still entwined, and so every now and again, her influence will still rear its head. And yes, in those moments, Swannie is always very confused and very scared.

[keshetchai]

You are putting a lot of words in my mouth I didn't say on the vague monolith of [other] "American Jews."

It's insufferable.

11 dead Jews last time trump was in office is directly related to antisemitism

I didn't just "suddenly" become concerned, you're projecting a narrative you have created out of straw-jews.

To be even MORE clear: i am currently considering what to do if the worst happens because my dad died last year, and I received life insurance money. so now I have the financial ability to leave the country, whereas I did not before. This has nothing to do with "I wasn't worried before" because I didn't say I had "zero concerns before."

YOU made this about Zionism and 10/7. YOU made this about Biden. YOU implied that I thought everything was totally fine before now. YOU are the one overlooking that I have multiple identities to be concerned about and YOU are the one questioning what a mass shooting at a synagogue under Trump's last admin has to do with antisemitism.

Yes, 10/7 was the largest deadly attack against Jews since the end of WWII. But the most deadly attack against American Jews on AMERICAN SOIL happened during Trump's LAST ADMINISTRATION. You seem to not understand this. You seem to have, perhaps, forgotten that eleven Jews were murdered and 6 were injured and this was the biggest attack against American Jews in the history of the United States. And it happened under Donald Trump and his aggressively right wing nationalist rhetoric and now he's back in office and his buddy is throwing up a heil Hitler on inauguration day MULTIPLE TIMES. 10/7 was a deadly attack on Jews IN ISRAEL. I happen to live in America.

I really don't know how to explain to you that levels of increased worry regarding immediate violence is actually different from the stress of rhetorical disgust or hatred. Neither of these things are positive but I do rank "possibility someone will murder me," as a bigger problem than "people say mean shit about zionists or stupidly verbalize approval for things/groups they don't understand and don't actually materially support."

I don't know how to explain to you that you actually have to read what I said in full: "this is my Jewish blog about being Jewish, so I wrote about antisemitism." So....

"now Jews are worried" no one said anything about having NO concerns before EXCEPT YOU.

I think it's really fucking depressing that you're comparing post 10/7 reactions and occasional violence and asserting it's more dangerous than the time someone murdered 11 Jews at synagogue in the US when Donald Trump was president.

Actually fuck it: as a Jew in Delaware, I'm really truly annoyed you seem to think you might have a better idea or insight about how Biden treats the American Jewish community. When I play Jewish geography I am literally one degree away from Biden because I've met and taken classes with the Rabbi that he has had the closest local relationship to, as "his" rabbi to tap for these things. I know way more about Biden's long time relationship with the local Jewish community who were his constituents for decades than you do. Do not try to tell me that Biden didn't condemn antisemitism during protests because he fucking did. Do not tell me he said nothing, when it was ALSO part of his speech last year During the days of Remembrance. Don't tell me his presidency was worse for American Jews when Biden told us he ran for office partly because of the Charlottesville protests under trump, where trump called the proud boys chanting "Jews will not replace us," a "very nice" group. Because Biden saw the rising antisemitism and was concerned enough to have that help push him to run for office.

Stick to Europe if you are going to say completely wrong shit about the United States.

so. american jews. ...is this "My Go bags are refreshed and packed," or is it "start making serious plans to leave the country"?

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[sylveon-and-velveon]

What if one timeline they lost was due to him becoming a Manotaur because he "became a man" in the eyes of the creatures and his "change" was complete?

[co27]

i guess my question is why DOES nuance immediately become looked down upon when it comes to that one webcomic

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

I've had a stupid merlin au idea stuck in my head for days now and I know I'll never get around to writing it the way I want it written but I kinda wanna try anyway even though I am 100% of the target audience

[jils-things]

since i have laras permission to post shit he made heres another favorite old art done by her ☝️☝️

this literally summarizes everything there is to know about these guys

[arolesbianism]

Working more on the local group of Synchronized Light and hoo boy. There's smth wrong with these guys.

[val-the-protoss-simp]

God damn. The memory of this blog haunts me like the ghost of a rich husband I murdered two decades ago and then burried in my basement