#because there is a lot to talk about both myths and how they crossed each other

[elbiotipo]

I still think it's so funny when I said vampires are unsexy (ideologically correct) and people talked to me "but what about the hunger what about the instinct" when werewolves are right there. I mean it would make sense if I didn't mention them but I was comparing them.

[blood-orange-juice]

ok so ive never properly played genshin and don’t plan to but i know a bit about it’s lore and characters and i think it’s really neat. however i have thousands of hours on ffxiv. on that note please explain why graha and childe are similar. i only have very basic knowledge on childe and i gotta know

Fellow ffxiv enjoyer. <3

(anyone asking me about G'raha has a 100% chance of getting a wall of text and I'm not apologising for that. enjoy your wall of text)

I'm not entirely sure I'm not a case of a person with a hammer to whom everything resembles a nail, but I do think they are the same archetype.

Sweet characters who could have been perfect sidekicks (who still are perfect sidekicks) but listened to too many epic tales as kids and found themselves in a wrong place at a wrong time and now have to play a key role in some universe-changing story.

Both are defined mostly by their stubborness, they are not very suitable for the roles they've chosen and fail over and over again until they do it somewhat right (barely).

No matter how badass they look, their power is not their own, G'raha is a glorified technician of someone else's miracle and little else than a living key, Childe wields an art of old Khaenri'ah without fully understanding it. It's all borrowed from someone else who needed them to achieve a goal.

They do look badass, but mostly because they larp. I'm honestly not sure which one enjoys theatrics more.

Civilisations that created the magic they use specialised in perversion of the natural order of things. They try to use it in relatively noble ways and mostly hurt themselves but the flavour is there.

Both are unbelievably tragic and both somehow make their stories seem almost lighthearted. Complete absense of self-pity. I think that's what makes them both so charming, it's a rare trait.

Both have an incredible capacity for loyalty and love and an incredibly twisted view of what relationships look like. "I'll cross time and space for you, I'll die for you, I'll build a city for you, I'll live for you but please don't ask me to share my plans." "I'll sacrfice my own health and respect of my subordinates to keep my brother's happyness, probably my humanity too, but don't expect me to actually interact with him."

Both have something that looks like self-sacrificial tendencies bordering on suicidality while being, if we are honest, a self-serving trait (partially born out of low self-esteem but still self-serving). They want to live in an old myth and sacrificing oneself is a perfectly reasonable price for that.

Huge egos. And I mean Huge Egos. It's a bit less obvious in Graha's case but I know the type, you see guys like that in PhD programs a lot.

Huge dorks. Both of them.

Both are stuck somewhere between human and non-human and, hmm... their ability to remain human is the most astonishing quality of both. By all accounts, neither should have. They somehow did.

Both are incapable of lying to the point where a third of each fandom headcanons them as autistic. Both are somewhat all right with tricking people without technically lying (although Childe had more practice).

Both are secretive because no one would understand anyway.

FF XIV is a kinder story, so it's easy to overlook, but technically G'raha is a case of body horror, accepts the role of a villain for a while and hides from the player way too much. Hmmm... Where else have I seen it. Hmm. Oh right. That ginger guy from Genshin.

Minor things:

Both are little shits and enjoy annoying the hell out of people they dislike.

Abysmally bad fashion sense. There should be a name for this particular type and level of bad. I don't think I've seen this anywhere else.

And then there's the colour scheme. Red+black+white+blue and red+black+light grey+blue (it's an "anime magician" color profile, I think. black-red-white as alchemy colours + blue as pure magic/something elemental). Childe doesn't quite fit but still the combination is rare.

They way they talk. Dear gods. Who the hell talks like that.

Here's where the similarities end.

One is morally grey but ultimately a good guy (technically. I think the point of ShB was that Emet and G'raha are almost the same), another is a morally grey but still (kind of) a bad buy.

At every step of his story Graha is surrounded by people who love or at least appreciate him, Childe is pretty much on his own and surrounded by people who are either shitty or clueless.

G'raha is kind. Truly and astonishingly kind, in a doomed world he chooses to love everything he touches. Silly little priest of hope. Of all the things he has done this is the most wondrous, I think. Not the time travel, not the city he founded, just being able to remain kind after everything that happened to him.

Childe is... well, Childe. I think he is a deeply decent person (to the point of having a visceral distaste for any kind of unfairness) and he's idealistic but he's indifferent more than he is kind. Empathy usually develops only when someone has shown the person empathy first and, as far as we know, he didn't have much of that in his life.

Also G'raha builds things. Childe breaks things. Childe breaks pretty much everything he touches.

One is an archeologist and a mage and another is a warrior.

I think these differences are caused mostly by the settings they were put into. Childe raised in Sharlayan would have been a very different person. G'raha trained by a voidsent and shipped off to Garlean military would look very much like Childe.

G'raha also has a beautiful character development arc. I love his ShB role. He has this huge ego in the raids and is insufferable and then we see an older and wiser him with a bunch of actual achievements and a bad case of impostor syndrome (trying to do anything real always humbles a person, we all know that real world is held together by sticks and scotch tape. honestly, this change alone is beautiful). And he gets to be an actual hero when he abandons all hope to be Important and resigns to die as a nameless villain if it saves everyone and spares his loved ones from heartbreak.

Childe's character development is yet to happen and I'm not hoping for much but we'll see.

The only difference that definitely isn't created by setting is that G'raha is naturally manipulative. In a kind-hearted way and mostly for the sake of better larp but he isn't that straightforward. Childe is spectacularly blunt for all his mysteriousness.

As a bonus, they both compare main characters to stars, but in completely different ways.

"No doubt your heroism will be the star by which I chart my course," says G'raha to the WoL.

Childe mentions the morning star, which is, of course, pretty and a good companion to a lonely traveler, but also it's not a celestial body you can chart your course by.

It's a guy whose signature weapon is called "Polar Star" and his first artifact set was full of nautical themes, so I think he fully understands what he's saying. "You are my friend but I won't change anything in my life for you."

So I don't think his story will be anything like G'raha's, his life took a different turn very long ago. I do think they used to be similar as kids, bookish boys who dreamed of adventure and being special. So it's fun to compare.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. <3

[fang-and-feather]

Star-Crossed Myth - Karno x Reader

Words: 592

Prompt(s): New Beginnings from Flufftober Spring Edition Day 1 at @flufftober

Summary: You never thought this moment would come, and now that it did, you worry Karno only accepted it to make you happy, with the way he seems worried for your future

Tags: Fluff, Slight Alternative Canon, Reader Turned into a Goddess

Just a short something I made to warm back into the fandom. I struggled a bit with the ending but...

I have one more project in development, as well as a few requests I will finally be working on so I will be a little more active in the fandom for a while

Star-Crossed Myth Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3

Your first sight when waking up was your boyfriend’s face and the relieved smile he gave you when you woke up.

Karno was sitting on a chair by the bed

“How long was I out for?” You asked, sitting up. It felt like no time at all.

“Four days. I was worried something had gone wrong.”

“Is that even possible?” You laughed.

“Leon said it isn’t, but I would only be able to rest when I saw you were okay by myself. How are you feeling?”

“Weird. And strangely tired.”

“That’s normal for your first few days. You might take some time adjusting.”

Karno moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and you snuggled up to him, only to be caught in a tight embrace.

“You were that worried?” You asked softly, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“I just missed you. We haven’t spent that long without talking to each other for a while. I forgot how lonely that felt.”

He actually sounded a little embarrassed at the admission that he was feeling lonely, so you hugged him back, chuckling.

“Well, look at it this way. From now on, you’ll never be alone anymore.” You kissed his temple.

Karno sighed and laid down, pulling you almost on top of him.

“Sometimes I worry about what it cost you for this.”

“You agreed to it.” You reminded, gently kissing him. “I thought it was because you trusted me. I knew the consequences of my choice, but you know what I had to sacrifice was small compared to what both of us gained from this.”

Your job was the only thing holding you back on Earth, and it was a small sacrifice to stand by your husband’s side for the rest of time, instead of cursing him with the weight of your death.

“I do trust you. That’s why I didn’t try to convince you not to do this. I knew it was your decision to accept Leon’s offer or not.”

“It wasn’t. It was a decision that affects both of us. That was why I asked you. I already told you not to go along with things because I decided.”

Karno chuckled, caressing your cheek, before pulling you closer for a kiss.

“I didn’t. I really was fine with this change, and that was because you changed me. It was your choice, but if it had happened earlier, I don’t think I would have been able to accept it so easily. I didn’t need you to change for me, but I wasn’t as against the idea as I’ve been. I love you, and it wasn’t only because you were human. You’re the only person I could ever love, no matter what you chose to be.” Karno pulled you completely on top of him this time, giving you a quick kiss. “Now rest, my love.”

He pulled you down to lie down on his chest. You wanted to protest, but your body didn’t respond to your attempts to pull yourself up.

“Are you really going to stay like this?”

“As long as you won’t sleep for another four days.” He chuckled, caressing your hair with one hand, and the other took one of your hands, intertwining your fingers, before he pulled it to kiss the back of your hand. “We’ll have a lot of time together once you adjust.”

As much time as you wanted.

“See you tomorrow, then.” You whispered, tightening your hold on his hand. “I love you.”

You snuggled to him and let sleep claim you.

Tag List: @imhereforscm, @juliettebbgamer

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

Star-Crossed Myth Masterlist / General Masterlist

[tiredassmage]

giggling and kicking my feet. oh i lOVE THESE!! thamk you for the tag @eorzeashan! <3

BOLD the FACTS

bothering the man, the myth, the legend, the og~ this will not stop me from wanting to do more blorbo. nor verses of blorbo.

PERSONAL

Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non-applicable

Twenty-some years (and counting) of intelligence work has its moments. While largely still ready for field work at a moment's notice, history with the Castellans and then Valkorian's influence don't play well with his habit of being a workaholic, nor his... equally bad habit of trying to work through headaches and occasional bouts of insomnia.

Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other

Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other

Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed

Nebulously, 'Cipher Nine' may or may not be connected to some of his work, but the fact that he's still among the Republic's 'most wanted' does imply a slight lack of proof. Or ability to actually bring him in. (And maybe there's still a part of him that's amused by it and maybe just a smidgen proud about it, okay?) We're also not talking about the implied treason. If the Empire ever caught his, ah. Affiliations. :))

FAMILY

Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children

The slightly shorter answer is he hasn't. thought about it a lot, but he'd like to, when it crosses his mind. It's the Shelter Dog Rizz (TM) and also that this man has a mentor streak a country mile wide and just doesn't have a lot of opportunities to realize it. Ough, which version of events? xD When this idiot finally retires, there are two daughters whom he will definitely build blanket forts with and "accidentally" teach Huttese swears and insults to because they argued Hyroh didn't know, etc. etc. [Sunasa grows up too fast and will always be his baby girl and Kas is going to be taller than him and completely capable of breaking arms by herself and he's going to worry about both of them. Forever.]

Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

Tyr, your complicated family ties. Tyr has no biological siblings, but his adopted sister, Mavis, and him haven't spoken since before his time in the Academy and they were almost always more antagonistic than not. I wouldn't be surprised if they never referred to each other as siblings. They more so just. happened to grow up in the same household.

Affiliation: orphaned / abandoned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable

Again, complicated, lmao. The official story is orphaned and adopted. The actual story is... given up in an effort to protect him from the trappings of life as an intelligence operative. [Sorry, Keeper. You tried.]

TRAITS & TENDENCIES

♦ extroverted / introverted / in-between

♦ disorganized / organized / in-between

♦ close-minded / open-minded / in-between

♦ calm / anxious / in-between / highly contextual

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in-between

Tyr has. always flirted with the line between respectful and 'with all due respect, which is none' blatancy. He knows he can't outright bite the hands on the leash. Doesn't usually mean he's entirely pleased with complacency.

♦ cautious / reckless / in-between / highly contextual

I was going to give him cautious, but this man is incredibly ride or die. When he says, I'll do anything for you, try not to test. how far he'll go about that. It's damn pretty far.

♦ patient / impatient / in-between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in-between / highly contextual

Again, he. flirts with the edge. Depends on who he's around.

♦ leader / follower / in-between

♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in-between

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in-between

♦ traditional / modern / in-between

His taste on how intelligence work should be handled - with field operatives trusted to do their job has historically gotten him in, ah. arguments. He's of an older guard in that way and he knows it and he's not keen to let anyone forget it. But as far as Imperial policy is concerned... Well, that's what a little treason can be good for the soul for. Maybe. You didn't hear that from him.

♦ hard-working / lazy / in-between

♦ cultured / uncultured / in-between / unknown

♦ loyal / disloyal / in-between / unknown

Loyal like a fucking dog - to actual ride or die levels. To people more than anything else. And, yes, to that... slightly more idealistic streak in him that's there no matter how much he tries to mask it in realism.

♦ faithful / unfaithful / in-between / unknown

In the spiritual sense? Not particularly. Again, loyal like a dog. Faithful to his found family pack His People to the bitter end.

BELIEFS

Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic

Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care / in a manner of speaking

(Unfortunately, verified by experience.)

Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care / in a manner of speaking

Something about the persistence of spirits would suggest it, but he's got plenty enough to wrangle with the living. That bridge can be crossed when or if they arrive upon it.

Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care / in a manner of speaking

Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

free giggle in star wars here

Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious

Philosophical: yes / no / highly contextual

In a manner of speaking? While perhaps not a readily apparent trait, Tyr tends to enjoy learning. It's a heart or core of what he'd describe of his work as an intelligence operative: learning about people, places, beliefs as big as how to organize society and as small as that merchant is a rip-off. Ideals are far more important to him than I believe he realizes.

SEXUALITY & ROMANCE

Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual

Sex: sex-repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless

Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious

Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

A skill in an intelligence toolkit has offered him experience, but he's a bit less experienced in pinpointing exactly what he genuinely likes - experiments he is... rather favorable to exploring.

Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

ABILITIES

Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

HABITS

Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / rarely / sometimes / frequently / alcoholic

Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / chain-smoker

Recreational Drugs: tried some / never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict / former addict

Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently / to excess

Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / rarely / sometimes / frequently / binge eater

Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic

Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gamble

I will. almost certainly return to do more blorbos. I love these things kdfnlsadfn

No pressure tags as always/I am so sorry if you have already gotten one and I have not seen it/open invitation to join in if you like etc etc thank you for coming to my TED talk @captainderyn @commander-krios @fatewalker-phoenix

[roipecheur]

Do you think Frank and Slade are similar?

Would Frank kill (or try to) Slade?

Ok you have asked the right person because I could totally write a Marvel/DC Punisher vs. Deathstroke crossover. Here's your pitch.

THEN: VIETNAM

U.S. Army Lieutenant Colonel Slade Wilson and Marine Lieutenant Frank Castle (Francis Castiglione) get separated from their respective units somewhere in the jungle. They initially both become aware that there's another person in the general vicinity who's not showing themselves and both think they're being stalked by Viet Cong. After some plotting, they attack each other at the same time and stop when they both realize that they're on the same side. Both are impressed that the other survived the initial attack, which was designed to kill. Slade technically outranks Frank, but they team up out of mutual respect.

(It's a little ((a lot)) homoerotic.)

Around their shared camp that night, they start to talk about back home, and they realize that back home is...different. Frank insists he's never heard of Gotham or Metropolis or Star City or Central City. They disagree on major historical events. Slade doesn't know who the Avengers are. Frank doesn't know what the Justice League is. Eventually, they give up and arrange watches for the night, each thinking the other is probably nuts, but hey, he's probably the only shot at getting out of this alive.

Over the next few days, they save each other's lives a bunch. I'm thinking they get injured and they have to (homoerotically, of course) patch each other up. If I were writing this for real, I would read a lot of war stories and literature about war stories that deal with the intimacy with other men that's allowed in war and on the battlefield in a way that it isn't back home. I would try to summon Hemingway's equally repressed and horny ghost. Anyway.

Stuff gets weirder. Creatures out of myth start attacking them, and they haven't seen another human being for days. Eventually, they come to a barren landscape that definitely doesn't belong in the middle of the Vietnamese jungle and are made to understand, possibly via a Watcher (Marvel) and Monitor (DC) that they aren't from the same place and the way they crossed paths got them stuck in between and is causing cracks in both realities. They both get sent back to their own worlds and aren't sure how much of that was actually real. But, they're both practical sorts, so they put it behind them and move on with their lives.

NOW: NEW YORK CITY

Frank falls into the DC universe. He needs to be the one who falls into DC rather than Slade falling into Marvel for this to work. At first, Frank doesn't realize that anything's changed. He gets into a fight with some heroes he doesn't recognize (the Titans), but that's not that unusual--there's always some new idiot in spandex popping up. By the end of the day, Frank has picked up the trail of what he thinks are his targets (a gang, traffickers, drug dealers, whatever) and goes to crash their party. He runs into Deathstroke, who's there to fulfill a contract, and they save each other's lives just like they did back in Vietnam.

Frank doesn't know who Deathstroke is, of course. He thinks Deathstroke is there for the same reason that he is, sharing his war and his moral crusade to fight crime in a lethal fashion. After the fight, when Deathstroke takes his mask off and reveals that he's Slade, Frank's old friend, this only solidifies Frank's assumption about Slade's motives and what he does.

They share a meal on a rooftop somewhere and talk about what they've been doing since the war. I think it would pack the biggest punch to set this in the preboot era where Slade had watched Grant, Joey, and Adeline die in front of him and hadn't discovered Rose yet. They could bond over watching their wives and kids die and being powerless to stop it. I'd incorporate the NMCU version of Frank where his wife and kids died because of him and not just due to a random mob hit happening in the park that day. Slade's honest about Adeline shooting his eye out and his role in Grant and Joey's deaths, if vague. He doesn't want to explain the exact nature of what he does yet. I think there could've been a time where Frank fucked up as a parent and almost got Lisa or Frank Jr. hurt and he knows in his bones Maria would've left him if it'd been worse, so Frank is uneasy with the way Slade lost his family, but feels he can't judge him.

Because Frank's phone isn't working and Slade's still is, it's pretty easy to determine which world they're in. Or, if you want to go the retro, pre-cellphones route with this, they could just turn on the news and see stuff about Superman and Metropolis and Frank just goes, "shit. It is real." This is another reason why it's better for Frank to go to DC rather than Slade going to Marvel--Marvel does have made up cities and countries, but they don't feature as heavily as DC's.

Of course, Slade lets Frank crash at his place (a very nice safehouse) and promises to help him get back to his world. Due to their earlier conversation, in which Frank waxed romantic about his war, Slade knows that Frank would kill him if he knew who Deathstroke the Terminator really was. Still, he feels a connection with and an obligation to him due to their time in Vietnam, so he will help him regardless. The plan is to do that before Frank knows too much.

Meanwhile, Frank is suspicious of how nice Slade's place is because the Punisher is a nasty stinky grungecore man who lives in his battle van or dirty warehouses and canonically bathes once a fucking week. So he's wondering where Slade got the money for both a swanky apartment and the state-of-the-art weapons stash that Slade couldn't resist showing off. (Phallic objects, homoeroticism, etc.)

So, while Slade's sleeping that night, Frank does a little research. He finds out who Deathstroke the Terminator is. All the people he's killed. Some of it Frank doesn't object to--most of them are bad, and he's worked with Elektra, after all--but Slade's also killed some people he can't excuse. And if Frank finds out about Tara and/or that Slade killed a teenage girl's dog, listen... In terms of overall morality, Frank is better than Slade. He might be a mass murderer, but he'd never hurt a child or animal (we're ignoring the MAX comics where he killed dogs, that's not canon to me). It's a low bar, but Slade congas right under it.

(Yes, Slade killing the dog happened in the reboot, not the preboot. I mix and match canons, it's what I do.)

If you want to extend this a little, Frank doesn't have to find all of this out by himself with Google or whatever. Say he finds out just enough to make him leave, and Slade wakes up to find him gone. Frank seeks out the Titans because he fought with them earlier and Slade mentioned having a "long history" with that group, and they tell him about the HIVE contract, about Tara, about Tanya's poor dog. Once he's gotten what he needs, Frank sneaks away from them, and one of them--I'm thinking Dick--realizes that Frank is going to try and kill Slade. Now, none of the Titans know who The Punisher is, and all Frank told them was that Slade's an old war buddy he came to town to catch up with. They leave to track him down and stop from getting himself killed.

Frank is definitely on his way to kill Slade. He's angry, he's betrayed, and he's hurt. He's not in touch with his emotions enough to like, know that, but it's true. Slade has become the next target in his war. Frank walks right back into Slade's safehouse, where Slade's just chilling in the kitchen and making himself something to eat. In the middle of Slade asking him where he's been, Frank takes out his gun and shoots him.

BUT. Frank doesn't know about Slade's healing factor, or he just doesn't realize the extent of Slade's healing factor. So Slade's fine. While Frank is helping himself to Slade's impressive armory, Slade gets up again, and they start fighting. The Titans show up. Because I'm entirely self-indulgent, Frank looks at Nightwing's escrima sticks and says yeah, I know a sanctimonious idiot with sticks like yours. And when they crackle with electricity, Frank goes, huh. Well, not exactly like yours.

(Frank's never going to mention that to Daredevil. Doesn't want to give him ideas.)

Because the Titans are attacking both of them, Slade and Frank have to fight together. Frank notices that Slade isn't shooting to kill. They manage to escape, and Frank asks him about it. Slade says that he doesn't kill anyone unless he'd paid to. When Frank pushes, Slade talks about how he doesn't agree with the Titans, but they have earned his respect, and he appreciates what they did for Joey. It changes Frank's perception of him a little. Slade doesn't share Frank's morals, but that's not to say he doesn't have any.

Once they've calmed down--maybe Frank gets injured and Slade has to patch him up in a callback to their war days--Slade talks to him. Tells Frank that this isn't his world and isn't his war, and that he needs to get home before spending too much time in the wrong place starts to fuck with things. They both remember what happened last time. Frank grudgingly agrees, and they go back to find the Titans.

Slade calls a truce, and he and Frank explain that Frank isn't from here and needs to get home. Fortunately, Raven is uniquely suited to help with that. She does some magic stuff and opens a portal. Before Frank leaves, he and Slade clasp arms (homerotically) and look each other in the eye. Frank says, "If I ever find you on my side..." and Slade says, "I know" and lets him go. Frank goes home, and the last scene would be them standing in the same place in different versions of New York, mirroring each other.

---

So, to answer your question: Yes, they have a lot in common, and yes, Frank would try to kill Slade lmao. I know this is more than you bargained for, but I hope in a good way!

[quordleona03]

20, 23, 31 :3

20: Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Religion. I have been a convinced atheist since I was a teenager . (Intensive reading of the Bible and other myths will do that to you.) But I am fascinated by religion - by the stories people live by and the faiths they hold to against all reason. I invented an entire Cardassian religion for the sake of having a devout Cardassian discuss her faith with Jean-Luc Picard, who was (at least in my headcanon) brought up Catholic.

For quite a while I was also consistently interested in slavery - find me a universe, I'd write a slave-story fic in it. Sometimes I combined this with writing about religion. (MirrorMASH - especially A Hawk Through the Mirror - and A Good Job, are both technically examples of this.)

I love dialogue. My favourite thing about stories is usually when you get two or more people together and they're talking and it's so intense the reader doesn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream.

23: Best writing advice for other writers?

Avoid glaucoma. No, seriously, the usual: you have to actually sit down and write that shitty first draft in order to get the story done. You don't need to show the rotten first draft to anyone til you make it better, but the only way to make it better is to write that crappy first version. A lot of writing advice is situational and personal. What works for me is to write something, anything, at least 750 words a day, just to keep my writing muscles energised. It helps to read a lot, to plan my stories out, to spend a lot of time thinking about my characters in situations that don't appear in the story, just so I know how they move and act and think and speak. But the one thing that is universal, I believe, is just that: write that bogging-awful unpublishable shamefully bad first draft - then polish. But you can't polish what isn't there.

31: Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing?

Oh, characters. Definitely. Except when I start with the plot. No, usually it's the characters. But I get really interested in the characters when I think of plot for them. So really, it's both.

I launched into MirrorMASH and The Games, both of them, without having any clear idea of where the plot was going - I just knew I wanted to put those characters in this situation and see what happened. On the other hand, I started writing "All We Know" with a very clear idea of the plot - but I would never have begun writing it if I hadn't so badly wanted to go back and find Hawkeye and Mulcahy and make sure they were still happy ten years after "Goodbye, Farewell, Amen".

3: Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Those are two different things.

If I am writing a multi-chaptered story, I have the story planned out. I know what's going to happen in each chapter. I may not know in exact detail (though I may have a lot of exact detail written down) but I know the plot steps. I think of this as crossing a wide, deep, fast river by stepping stones. Out in the middle of the river, you're surrounded by chaos and muddle and danger, but you have each stone solid underfoot and the way across is clear. So I embark on the chapter knowing whose POV is telling the story, and knowing what has to happen in the chapter (though obviously surprises happen). I started Margaret's chapter for April in "All We Know" three times over until I got to a good starting point (Barbara, Sam's daughter, turned out to be the way in). While sometimes it can be difficult, the steps behind me are solid and the framework ahead of me is worked out and I just have to complete this step, and so I start writing. And sometimes people give me an idea for a story and I run with it. I wrote a lot of the MASH drabbles like that. And "Comrades " was written because Ajay wanted to see Hawkeye and Mulcahy trapped behind enemy lines. Generally speaking, a story from an idea someone else explicity gave me is going to be shorter and tamer. (But not always.) But a story that has no chapters, which I have just embarked on with characters in a situation and a sketchy plot - I am writing off into a white page of hope, buiding the story one sentence at a time. Sometimes doing this leads to writing a multi-chapter story when I realise this has got out of hand. Sometimes it just ends up being one very long story that I keep coming back to and coming back to until the story curls round and tells me "it's done". I got the idea for "Tuttle" like that: and the idea for "Crabapple Cove", and the idea for "For Ever" and - longer ago - "Friend and Stranger", and the whole MirrorTrek sequence. Sometimes I begin a story thinking, this is just a flashy idea, it's a one-shot, how many words can this take me to do - and then I look up and realise, my God, where am I. In the middle of the river, with no stepping stones, just a lot of chaotic water and the surety that if I can keep writing, carefully, thinking things through as I go, there will be an ending. I hope. That's the creative process. Story in search of an ending, for the love of words.

[lanteanserver]

THIS is why I'm on Palestine's side. Not Palestinian Arabs' side, but on the side of everyone whose mentality is "coexistence can be more than a myth because we already lived a version of it for a long time", as opposed to "it's them or us, things will never be the same". They don't need to be the same; they can, in fact, be better if children rise up and force their elders' hands.

Here are two sets of readings from the Roman Catholic tradition. The first is the readings from the day I carefully, nervously tottered down to the local Archbishop's House and followed my instincts to find a retired bishop disguised as a security guard, and then I declared myself to be a prophet sent to tell the Roman Catholic Church that they need to change or die. (It's not a threat. I'm not saying I'll kill them. I'm just saying that God seems to be doing exactly what the Church said They would, and sending someone the Hol{e}y Spirit an Echo of the Infinite Divine me, I guess, to tell them to get their shit in gear.) The second is from the day I was born, although there might be an offset that I'm not aware of. It's the one I care more about, tbh; if there's more to any of this than your garden-variety insanity, I still think Our Lady of Tooth and Claw is a good and necessary addition to the roles we scribe to Mary as Roman Catholicism's chosen embodiment of the feminine divine.

Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse.

If I am a version of Elijah - a version of the prophet associated with Sandalphon, whose wings can carry him anywhere on Earth in a heartbeat like an email or a blog post - we won't know for sure until I'm long dead. But my parents and I are finally communicating with each other effectively, because the spiritually abusive dysfunction nexus in my extended family finally realised that dying can be difficult but being dead is a lot easier than being alive; and if I can forgive the Catholic Church for everything they have put my family through, both directly and indirectly... Well, I haven't yet, because they haven't actually confessed their sins against us, which makes sense because their sins against other people were so much worse and should absolutely be a higher priority. But I will forgive them if and when they ask me to, and that's why redemption and absolution are different things and they need to be a lot clearer about that going forward.

Absolution is when God allegedly forgives you everything because Jesus took on all of our suffering while on the cross. But I really don't think that makes sense as a moral framework. People keep talking about offering up their suffering, and it makes me feel physically sick when they do. He was already being crucified and transcending space-time to save us, according to the Story that contains His Substance. Shouldn't we be offering our joy? Shouldn't we show Him the beauty His sacrifice wrought?

Children who live in a time and place without war, because He taught us to be peacemakers regardless of the cost to our finite, mortal selves. Recovery from pestilence that once would have resulted in a fate worse than death, and it's barely even noticed or commented on, how miracles and science and magic and faith might as well be the same thing sometimes. Famine becoming a thing of the past because we finally know how to ensure everyone gets a first helping before anyone gets a fucking private jet. [Pay yo' fucking taxes.] The current horseman threatening us isn't quite pollution, but is climate change; and I know enough of that danger to say with confidence that it is not too late for human civilization to weather this storm we are already living through, but it's going to take more than a Miku-Luce to get young people to return to any flavour of Christianity given how many of us have already been crucified or chained to the rocks in a Tempest by our elders who thought this was the best way to save us and instead just kept breaking the Third Covenant. At least your generation got to pick out your own fucking crosses and actually earned some kind of reward for lugging them around. I don't even have a home left, because it was destroyed to create a shrine for a false idol who worshipped her image of me from the day I was conceived to the day that she finally proved herself True by being False.

There will be a lot of choices to make, and I've already made the ones meant for me. I can be the Talkative Death, the Woman of the Apocalypse, Swift and Kindly. I can have green eyes or blue eyes or grey eyes. I can be a sovereignty goddess or a goddess of crafts or a tutelary deity or an oracle or a livestock guardian sheepdog or just another gardener. But I'm only going to be one of those things at a time from here on out, so if you've got skin in the game and you have a preference, let me know. I think the deadline might be 11pm tomorrow, but I might be wrong. I keep telling people that, and they keep telling me how fascinating I am and how they could listen to me all day, and then don't bother actually hearing a Word I've said. (Don't worry. I still love you. Just take a bath-tism and follow the ritual for the Hol{e}y Spirit if you want a hug. And if you want nothing to do with me, that's fine. I'm the rear guard anyway. Once you're all safely inside the walled city at one of the House Parties, my job will be to turn around and become Maxwell's Next Daemon. But only long enough for the ones on the inside to shut the city gates; and once that's done, I can start looking for the lost sheep who got left in the Hinterland of the Forest/Garden instead of making it safely to the walled city.

I understand why Moses didn't enter the city. It wasn't that he never could. Just... Not in that lifetime.

I've inadvertently fulfilled more prophecies than you can shake a crozier at. I'm pretty sure that if people want to, we can actually declare a Messianic Age based solely on the bullshit I've been dealing with for the past few months (and especially the past one month, when I went Full Mad Prophet and I am barely recovering as it is).

People keep telling me to take care of myself, but they don't understand that part of being a livestock guardian sheepdog is that I literally cannot take care of myself while others are suffering in a way I can help with and in a place I can see. I'm trying to recover, but with the world as it is, I'm not sure how feasible a full recovery is. I don't think God or humans are just trinities, although it's not a bad start.

Accident: mind and body (Father Hashem and Son Jesus, or your preference of equivalent subdivisions of the transcendent infinite)

Substance: soul (eyes are the windows, and the soul carries the True Name of the Infinite Self), story we tell ourselves and/or others about who we are (how we transubstantiate accident to substance), and context we live in (both the objective reality of God's world, and the subjective reality we experience as individuals).

I think we finally made it back into the Garden, and I think I've explained why at some point. But Jesus told us that the poor would be with us always, even to the end of time. If we go for full-on communism, either it will be implemented in a corrupt fashion that results in unnecessary suffering, or we will stagnate because there will be no reason to grow and change.

Late-stage capitalism is as least as bad, though. Speculative trading is allowing the Haves to drain the substance of the Have-Nots on an unprecedented scale. I would legitimately have an objectively better social context if I was in medieval times. That doesn't mean I would have a better life; but if I could avoid the four horsemen, I (Eimear, specific individual with complex needs and simple wants) would probably be much happier. At least I would know which parts of the work were mine to complete and which ones I didn't need to worry about abandoning because they were genuinely someone else's responsibility.

[itshype]

Kingmaker, Kingbreaker, Crowntaker, Realmshaker (DC x DP)

Idk how many people who follow me know but I love my notfics so here...

A Kingmaker Danny Phantom where he's not (technically) king after defeating Pariah Dark because he's still uhm… a child (who is untrained in diplomacy and barely knows anything about Ghost Culture), but whoever replaces Pariah is fully aware than Danny could at any time beat them up and install someone else in their place. Maybe it's not even explicit and Danny doesn't know.

Pandora tells him: "Oh, we got a new king of the ghost zone, nah, you don't know her but she's tight with me and Frostbite. But we're not really having her use the crown and ring, they're going to be for emergencies only." and Danny is like "oh cool, my buddies approve of the new king, I don't need to be further involved!" but because of this assumption, he doesn't go to the coronation, and it turns into a huge source of tension because like:

"Why should we be concerned about any decrees given by the new king, when at literally any moment, Danny Phantom, the BAMF, the myth, the legend, is probably going to show up and give a legendary smackdown and make this ghost Pariah's new roomie?" Then some of Danny's long-time foes start to play very nice with him, in the hopes that when (not if) Danny decides to replace the new king that they might be in the running for a minor barony or something under the new regime. Danny does not think this about-face through, just thinking 'oh this is neat! how convenient that everyone wants to be my friend now!' Ghosts often refer to him as 'ghost child' and I love the idea of him being the little brother of the entirety of the amity park-adjacent section of the infinity realms. Johnny could teach him how to ride a motorbike, skulker could teach him some ghost engineering (assuming he is involved in the construction of his own suit) etc. These rumours of the upcoming 'next king' who doesn't even exist, of course gets back to the new king and she's like

"idk what I have done to anger Kingbreaker Danny, he hasn't even given me a chance!" SO!!! She decides to reach out to some humans she knows for advice on how to win over a little boy (her creepy insinuation very much unintended on her part). Here are some options of varying hilarity for how she could go because I couldn't pick just one!

Vlad!: Your standard, non-crossover option. I personally love redeemed Vlad content (maybe Maddy crosses a line and his Obsession with her snaps), and this could be amusing if the king doesn't give many details so he doesn't realise it's Danny, and then when he does realise, freaks out about having adoptive parent competition.

Constantine/Zatanna: Both magic-y people, they could have summoned her at one point before or after her coronation.

Wonder Woman!!: If the king knows Pandora maybe Pandora referred her as an old buddy of some of the gods or other amazons. The king could just say they need to talk to a human expert not connected to Danny without giving more detail and pandora could say "oh yeah, the gods who created me have some human-ish relatives and one of them even lives with other humans. she's basically my cousin!" meanwhile Diana has never met pandora and doesn't know anything about her outside of the OG myth.

Superman: Danny shares a lot of superman's powers, plus they both have that OP vibe, PLUS share the "one foot in each world" type of thing that could lead the king to think he was the best option. Unsure why they would've met so reaching out as a stranger would add a different vibe.

The Flash: his speed powers canonically come from another dimension that he calls the speed force. do you know what is also another dimension? the ghost zone. The flash is that annoying neighbour who occasionally dangles an extension cord over your fence to use your electricity, and will not stop using your Wi-Fi because it runs faster than his. The king figures he owes her and if he won't then she'll change the speed force Wi-Fi password...metaphorically.

Actually, you know what, ghost king threatening all speedsters on Earth if they don't help her woo a teenager is the funniest option. So, we’re continuing with that. Obviously, the flash doesn't want to lose his abilities! But also, this smacks of a creepy grooming situation. The flash then has to awkwardly explain to the entire justice league that his speed is being held hostage by a dead cougar who wants to seduce a human teenage boy for reasons that may be illicit but are jenky at the very least. There are hundreds of Danny joins the batfam fics so I don't think this story needs to go in that direction, but batman would probably have to be involved at this point just to figure out who the "teenage victim" is. That is how Danny Fenton meets most of the main justice league with them not even having an inkling he's dead/secretly a ghost hero. Most batpham fics I've read where the batclan figures out Phantom's identity, they see him fight ghosts and look up ghost experts, find his parents, see a family photo and then make the visual connection. Like superman, Danny's identity is mostly in the clear because no one would think that a ghost would even have a secret identity - he's dead (and thanks to the time travel he's done appears to have been dead for centuries), who would he need to be protecting?? But this time, the ghosts are all playing buddy-buddy with Danny so phantom hasn't necessarily had any super public fights recently that would make investigating protections against ghost attacks a priority for the bats that would lead them to holding up a picture of Danny next to a picture of phantom. Mostly, Danny goes ghost to play with cujo (I love cujo), or visit the ghost zone. Casper high students are BAFFLED at Fenton's eclectic friend group btw, though considering his parents the ghost dog totally tracks for them. *GASP* service dog Cujo....but that's another post for another time. Jasmine Fenton is not impressed. This could also be Sam or Tucker, or any of Danny's newest ghost buddies if you like but as an oldest sibling I have OPINIONS. She thinks Danny is safest taking this perv ghost on himself and not risking a possessed/overshadowed justice league or even just the justice league themselves. That's right kids, the justice league is often in canon closely associated with the USA government - the same government who put the anti-ecto acts into place. NOW! a lot of crossover fics have the justice league completely clueless about the anti-ecto laws and GIW. I don't always find that realistic. The entirety of the justice league dark is pretty closely involved with the dead and ghosts (deadman IS a ghost), clark is an investigative journalist married/dating/besties with another, award winning investigative journalist, Bruce is the most paranoid and well informed man alive with two sons plus one batgirl who have died and been brought back through mystical or scientific means, Diana is (in some canons) meant to be an ambassador representing her people to the entirety of mankind. So, none of them even being vaguely aware of this new law does NOT track for me. I think a few possibilities are...possible: - They know about the laws, read a few scientific papers on ecto-entities written by "experts" which would include the Fenton parents and pre-redemption Vlad, and think 'yeah that checks out no reason to fight this' - They know but as they rarely deal with the national justice system as a team, and therefore don't think about it as a positive or negative thing. It doesn't apply to their lives. Think about how much you know about your local laws, let alone obscure federal ones (in some parts of Australia it’s illegal to be holding more than 50kg of potatoes, just as a random example!). - Some of them agree with the "experts" or don't even know about the laws, whereas Batman, John Constantine and Martian Manhunter know they're a crock of shit but themselves lack the political capital to fight them without leverage and can't justify it without an emergency.

Danny's ghost buddies are told that apparently some ghost is threatening the justice league to get to Danny and go back into the zone to investigate. I genuinely think once their obsessions are no longer at cross purposes, Danny could totally help ghosts to fulfil their obsessions in ways they hadn't considered, and they could be buddies for real now. Think Tucker setting Ember up with a YouTube or streaming account, playing paintball with Skulker, introducing Walker to one of those uber-elaborate RPG or tabletop games with massive amounts of rules and letting him be like Matt Mercer in the Rules Lawyer round of Um, Actually. There’s an entire separate fic here I swear.

Either way! Jazz is trying to warn her brother away from the justice league while he and probably Tucker are all 🤩. Danny knows it's dangerous for him personally but his Obsession with protecting the town knows that Amity has never been safer with all these heroes milling about so it's hard for him not to be over eager and relaxed. The flash is explaining how his powers could be removed if he doesn’t comply and Danny says, “oh then just tell her?” and the league is like “oh no, not another self-sacrificing teen.” Unfortunately for everyone involved, Superman has super hearing. He heard Jazz telling Danny to kick the Justice League to the curb. Now the Justice League thinks there's something foul in the Fenton household, but they think it's Jazz instead of Danny.

[youregonnagofaar]

happy ending myth a steve harrington story

ch. 1 off the sidelines

 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

summary: steve never thought someone he had once ignored would come back into his life to fight the upside down. when you are 19 how can you even think of a future? but what if it didn't matter what the future held if you were in it? and yet he couldn’t help but think maybe this was the one who would be his partner on that cross-country family trip with six nuggets.

pairings: best friend!eddie munson, close friend!max mayfield, slowburn!steve harrington

a/n: this is going to be a slowburn and at least four parts. this is my first time writing as steve and i’m super excited. all of this was based off me listening to future holds by bastille. thank you to anyone who reads! i’m already working on part two.

warnings/tags:  mild violence, curse words, mentions of drugs, drug use, two losers with childhood trauma because of bad parents

word count: 5,940

March 1986

It had been a long day of shelving books left astray from young students making sure they had read everything needed for the semester. A sigh of relief left your lips once walking through the entrance of your home sweet home. It was a cozy trailer littered with Jane Austen and Emily Dickinson on each table surface. Your black cat Bennett let out a loud yawn when he realized his owner was finally home. It wasn't much, but it felt like a lot after a 6-hour shift. Putting your bags down and changing into a pair of sweatpants and a white tank top, you made your way outside. You climbed on top of the roof and took out a joint that was gifted by Eddie Munson earlier in the week.

Forest Hills trailer park had been your home for as long as you could remember. With a father on the run from the law and a mother in rehab you fit in just fine, and the rent wasn't too bad. Your favorite place was the roof where each star and trailer home was visible. Lighting up the joint and stretching your legs out with a smile you settled by turning on an old walkman and letting the songs of Fleetwood Mac soothe all your aches and worries away. From the trailer's tin roof, it was easy to see your neighbors and often it was easy to get lost in what everyday life must be for each person who lived there. Max Mayfield lives right next door so every night you would make sure that the young girl was safe at home. The two of you had become close after she moved in. You both bonded over parents never being fully there even when they were around and how the world just felt so judgmental. It took some time for the young redhead to warm up to you,  it was only after she found out that her older brother was dead and her stepfather left  that the two of you began to easily bond. The two of you would talk about everything and it was only in those moments you felt truly loved. You'd often told Max that she was just like Elizabeth Bennett, a brave young woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

Turning your head to the side, a smirk grew on your lips while watching Eddie Munson leave his car with Chrissy Cunningham by his side. You graduated last year, the same year Eddie should’ve. Your introduction to the boy was when he found you reading behind Hawkins High. The day he became your friend, he also became your pot dealer. Chrissy was a cheerleader so the two of you had never really crossed paths. With a raised eyebrow you smirked and went back to looking at the stars with feet bouncing to the rhythm of “The Chain”. The song was almost over when his trailer lights began to flicker. Pausing the walkman you looked over to finally hear the panicked shouts that must’ve been happening for a minute or so. Shortly after it all stopped, Eddie shot out of the trailer and got into his car before you could even shout over to ask him what was wrong.

You made your way down back to the ground and walked slowly over to his trailer. Dread washed over your whole body. It filled your stomach and the feeling caused your head to hurt. With just a little push, the door opened and there lay a once happy cheerleader her face now contorted. Gasping you felt bile begin to rise from the depths of your stomach. The sight caused you to run out of the trailer, throwing up now the only option after what had just been witnessed. You knew what Chrissy had looked like...she was a beautiful girl who had a lovely smile, but the image of her lying on that carpet would haunt you forever. Running back to your trailer you  weren’t sure what to do next. The cops were bastards and you smelt of weed. Those pigs would blame Eddie for all of this, but the idea of leaving her there made you feel queasy.

It took until morning for cops to surround the Munson trailer, the sight made you feel guilty. Deep down you knew Eddie couldn't have done any of this. He could barely hurt anyone and honestly didn’t have the strength to do such a thing. Hawkins was a dark place that was filled with weird lore as to why it had become that way. As the day wore on, the cops made sure no one was able to leave or enter the trailer park. They had asked you some questions, all of them answered vaguely. Something else was going on here and until you knew what it was, there was no way you were telling the cops anything. Throughout the morning you tried your best to get some rest but every time you closed your eyes visions of Chrissy's body would flash in horrible waves. So instead, you sat in front of the window with a cup of now cold coffee. Trying to figure out what the hell had gone on here and why a girl was dead.

A few hours later, you heard Max leave her trailer, in a rush you decided now was the time to get answers. Where was she going? Wasn't she friends with the group of kids who made their way out of the StarCourt Mall fire? Your mind filled with questions as you followed Max to what appeared to be a Family Video. She had now joined forces with who you assumed was Dustin, someone you had only heard about in passing. Max had once mentioned a curly haired boy who could talk for hours about the smallest topic. You waited for them to enter the video store. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that you needed some answers for the awful things you witnessed last night. After a few more deep breathing exercises you finally felt calm enough to enter the store. Your hands flexed as you saw Max talking to Robin Buckely, a girl that you had met in band class years ago. As you walked forward Steve Harrington had walked in from the back room causing you to take a step back.

Steve Harrington was last in your presence at graduation last year. He had been sulking as other students talked to their parents. That was the day you seemed to get a little more, why he was such a jerk to be around, because his parents hadn’t shown up. From experience you knew how awful this type of let down felt, so you walked up to him and said congratulations and got no reply. When Steve finally saw you he also had taken a step back. Robin had noticed the way you two were looking at each other making a face that snapped you back to reality.

"Max Mayfield, what is going on?" Your voice was stern but Max also noticed a weird sadness behind it all. She twirled around on the ball of her heels before finally facing you with wide eyes.

"Y/N! What are you doing here?" Her brows furrowed as she began to piece some of it together. "Wait, did you follow me here?!"

You couldn't look at her directly when she said that so instead you gave her a signal as if you needed to speak with her and only her. Max almost groaned in response until she saw the way you looked at her. You were terrified and she didn’t understand until you explained what you saw. This confession caused Max to tell you everything about weird ol’ Hawkins. Will Byers was actually taken, and the Russian infiltrated StarCourt Mall to open a portal, all of it, it made you feel dizzy and sick. You wanted to yell that you were right the whole time but the lack of sleep added with a rush of information caused your whole body to go limp.

This whole day was supposed to be normal for Steve Harrington, but, of course, it was nothing of the sort. The store had been so quiet before Max and Dustin showed up to explain why Eddie Munson was wanted for murdering a cheerleader. Then you walked in and he felt like he had seen you somewhere before but couldn’t place it. He scanned your face trying so hard to figure out who you were and why your name was on the back of his tongue. Then his co-worker elbowed him in the chest trying to get his focus back. Steve gave Robin a glare and it wasn’t until you had left to speak with Max that she spoke.

"Are you okay over there?" Robin's tone was hushed as she gave Steve a look with her furrowed brows.

“You know Y/N, she graduated last year, just like you.” He looked at Robin and then back at you and it finally hit him. You were the only person who spoke to him at graduation. He had been in such a terrible mood that day, his parents were supposed to be there but they had some last minute function. But you, you had been there and congratulated him despite no one else doing so. He began to feel warm and embarrassed, watching as you placed a hand on your hip as you spoke to Max.

“Shit!” Steve whispered, causing Robin to tilt her head.

“Dingus! You are doing that thing again where you are not actually speaking out loud just in your head! What is going on?”

Steve gave her a sad look and ran his fingers through his hair. As he placed his elbows on the glass counter he explained. “Graduation day she came up to me and was really nice about it.” He paused and sighed. “I didn’t reply the way I wished I had, my parents said they were going to be there and they just didn't show up. I was such an ass, Robin.”

Robin gave Steve a tiny pat on the back before turning to look in your direction. Whatever Max was telling you, it was a little too much and her eyes widened when she noticed you were about to fall. "Well, you could try and make it up to her by making sure she doesn’t land on the nasty carpet." Her eyebrows raised as she pointed to you and Steve quickly ran over to your side.

It was embarrassing the state you were in, lying there in Steve Harrington's arms. It did feel nice to be in such strong arms but you wished the circumstances had been better. "Uhh, thanks.." Max was holding in a snicker watching you in this position. She wasn't sure if it was due to Steve looking at you like you had hung the moon, or that he had run so fast to catch you. Either way, the young girl knew she was going to tease you about this later.

"You're welcome, Y/N? Right?" You nodded and smiled before getting back up on your feet to look at both Max and Steve.

"So let me see if I can get this straight." Your hands were now on your hips in a mom-like fashion as you eyed everyone in the room. "Will and Barb never went missing? They were both taken? I am guessing Barb didn't make it and Will did. The Starcourt mall was invaded by Russians who were trying to open some portal that someone named El already closed?" Each of them nodded their heads and it filled you with an awful feeling, you felt this before entering Eddie's trailer. "Okay…" You paused, rubbing your temples. "So whatever it is, it's back because I know Eddie didn't kill Chrissy. He could barely hurt a fly and also he had a huge crush on that girl."

"Exactly! Y/N gets it! I told you Eddie didn't do it!" Dustin was now pointing at Robin and Max who were now rolling their eyes.

Steve was still just looking at you with kind honey eyes that made your knees feel weak, or was it the lack of sleep? Everytime he looked at you he couldn’t help but feel guilty for the way he spoke to you last. This wasn’t the time to be thinking of any of this but when it got quiet it would rattle his brain.

"We have to find Eddie, that's why we came here. We need to see if there is any word of where he could've gone." Max was walking back up to Robin, swiftly making her way to the computer that was behind them all.

"I know where he is." All of a sudden everyone was staring at you. "He's with his drug dealer. Uh, Refer Rick is the name! I mean it's secluded and unless you were buying drugs it’s not a place many go." "Do you buy drugs off Eddie?" Max looked at you with her eyebrows furrowed causing you to shrug.

"I buy weed off him, that’s all…" You corrected with a big smile towards the redhead who was now judging your life choices. "Hey don't look at me like that!" This wasn't the time to scold you for smoking weed, Max would find time to do that when this was all over.

"Whatever, we just need to find the address! Maybe look up movies that only a stoner would rent!" Dustin was now at the computer shoving Max out the way. Max had been right; he was very impatient and a little jittery. She rolled her eyes and stood back as the boy began to type feverishly. "Here! Look at these! It has to be him!"

The older kids giggled at the titles being read out by the curly-haired boy who was easily annoyed with the reaction. Dustin and Max grabbed their bags and began to walk outside. Robin soon followed which left Steve and you alone as he closed up. Watching as you began to make your way, Steve had decided it was now or never. So he called your name causing you to look at him confused.

The two of you stood there just staring at each other. He wanted so badly to apologize but the words just wouldn’t come out. Since Robin wasn’t there to give him a nudge back to reality you decided to speak up first.

"So since when does Steve Harrington hang out with kids like Dustin and Max? Or even Robin, you would've never talked to her in school." You looked at him confused and he could tell you meant nothing bad by it. Steve shrugged his shoulders as he turned off all the lights.

"It just kinda happened." He made his way to the door to stand right next to you. "I'm not the same as I was in high school Y/N. I'm not King Steve anymore."

Shaking his head he tried to smile, knowing that you had no idea about all the events that shaped him since high school. The two of you were only a few inches apart and it caused heat to rise on the back of your arms. A tiny shade of pink covered your cheeks as you looked around  at everything except for what was in front of you. Steve had noticed all of this, finding it adorable how you reacted to being so close to him. Making sure to move back just a little to make you more comfortable, he smiled.

"Good! I didn't like him that much anyway. He had great hair but was kinda a jerk."

You placed your hair behind your ear and you walked out to his car as he just stood there. He wanted to make you smile for the rest of your life if he could. Now you were wrapped into this chaos that was the Upside Down, it made him feel a weird ache in his chest. Locking the door to the video store he huffed out a sigh and made his way to the driver's seat. Steve knew that the reality you soon were to face was going to be filled with a lot of grief and sadness. He himself was plagued with nightmares, waking up in an awful sweat every night. His jaw still had phantom pains from when Russians tortured him. The thought of any of that happening to you made him tense.

Making his way to the car he laughed softly seeing you in the middle of Max and Dustin in the back. He promised to himself that he would get you in the front seat, but for now, he loved the current seating arrangement.

"Alright buckle up!" His voice was stern like your’s had been when seeing Max and it caused everyone but you to groan.

You giggled hearing such a tone leaving the boy before you. Each time he spoke to the kids, it became a bit clearer that King Steve really was a different person now. After a twenty minute drive, the car pulled into the Refer Rick’s driveway. Dustin had been ready to bolt out of the car once you pointed out the mailbox. The sun was now setting making the secluded home a little creepier than it needed to be. The group of you made your way to the front door  and then Dustin began to ring the doorbell way too many times. Steve began to let the boy know no one was there as he started to pound on the door.

"Eddie, it's Dustin!" The young boy shouted as the rest of you began to look in the windows. He was now pleading with Eddie saying they were only there to help.

Shouts of "Refer Rick!" filled the air as everyone was still making their way around the outside of the home. All of you took cautious steps as Steve made tiny comments about how creepy this was andhow Dustin was being too loud. All of you let out a collective tired sigh, no one was here. Max stopped to shine her flashlight on a boat house shining on it as if it was a clue.

"Hey! You guys!" Max spoke as she began to walk a little closer. The group made their way near the sides of the shed, shining light into the windows to see if there was any movement. Everyone held their breath as Robin opened the door, her raspy voice filling the quiet darkness.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" No one answered. Nevertheless, you all made your way one by one into the inky boat house.

"What a dump," Steve said and you nudged him in the shoulder because although this was terrifying, this wasn't the time.

Every single step could be heard as you all walked around trying to see if Eddie was nearby. Maybe he was hiding, before you could peek under the tarp of the boat Steve began to hit at it.

"What are you doing?" Dustin whispered while you gave Steve a confused look.

"He might be in here!" Steve exclaimed as he continued to hit the tarp with a paddle.

You watched as Dustin and Steve began to fight as to who would lift the tarp. Max was already walking over to a makeshift desk that was littered with what appeared to be recent trash.

"Hey! Look over here!" You followed Max's voice and took your place next to Robin. "Someone was here."

"Maybe he heard us, got spooked and ran?" Robin questioned with her eyes still on the tiny pieces of the garage.

"Don't worry, Steve will get him with his oar!" Dustin joked. "I know you think you're being funny, Henderson, but considering almost everyone in this room has nearly died multiple times," your eyes grew wide at this comment but Steve kept going. "Personally, I don't find it funny in the slight-"

Steve didn't finish his sentence because Eddie had come up from his hiding spot and was now after him with a knife in hand. He was pushing Steve against the wall holding the knife up to his throat. Dustin and you began to yell for Eddie, pleading with him to put the knife down.

"Eddie! Stop!" You placed your hand near Steve's neck. "Look, it's me! Eddie, I know you didn't do this. We all know you didn't do this, please just relax."

"It's me, Eddie! This is Steve, he's not going to hurt you, right, Steve?"

Steve whispered "right" while hoping what you were doing was going to save him from his current position.

"Steve, how about you drop the oar?" Steve's eyes went wide as if to say how stupid that was since he was the one with a knife at his throat but Eddie shoved the knife closer to him.

Even so, the oar dropped and Eddie looked at you with anger on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"We are here for you," Dustin spoke up and then began to point out who each person was. "This is Robin, you know her from band. This is my friend Max. The one who never wants to play D&D."

Max waved as Dustin continued, "Eddie, we're on your side. I swear on my mother!" You all then began to agree and swear on Dustin's mother.

This seemed to work as after a short pause Eddie backed away from Steve, who was now swearing under his breath.

Eddie sighed and looked into your eyes. He was so scared so you lowered your voice to speak to him once more. Relaxing his body and looking at the ground you walked towards him. Dustin was by your side as you placed your hand on Eddie’s shoulder. You watched as his shoulders sunk down towards the floor as you got down to his eye level.

"I'm so sorry, Eddie. We just wanna know what happened." You spoke with a softness that your mother once told you bedtime stories with.

"You won't believe me." He shuddered and spoke with a tone that you had never heard from him before.

"Try us." Max was now right beside you as she spoke and with that Eddie nodded.

"Y/N, I swear I didn't kill her." Eddie looked at you like the time he broke your bike years ago.

You both were about twelve years old and you had given Eddie permission to take your bike out for the day. The boy went down a hill near the school and wrecked the whole thing. Back then you just helped him with the cleaning of a brush burn and forgave him but now the stakes were much higher. There was no wound for you to clean up, it was just this horrible feeling of dread. At that moment you lunged forward and held onto him as tightly as you could. Running your fingers through his black curly hair as tears fell down his face.

"I know, Eds, I know you didn't do this, I'm so sorry." You spoke softly into his ear doing your best to soothe his sorrows.

Steve had finally caught his breath just to feel it hitch back up at the sight of Eddie in your arms. You were whispering in the other boy's ear and he knew you were trying your best to help out. A pang of jealousy hit him at the worst time and Robin noticed. A smirk spread across her face as she watched Steve's expression turn into a confused sadness.

The boat house had once been filled with an anxiety that was now cleared for the sadness of Eddie's voice as he described what happened to Chrissy. It was only then that you were able to understand what you had seen that night. Chrissy had levitated above him as he dropped the box of drugs you had found on the floor. This was something you had made sure to pick up before the cops showed up. Everything was coming together as if pieces to a puzzle, all of it now making sense.

"I just ran away." His voice was filled with shame and sadness. Swearing it would haunt him for the rest of his life, regretting leaving Chrissy behind.

"We are going to clear your name Eddie, we just need time" Dustin reassured him with a pat on the back. "For now, we will be back and bring you some food and some supplies."

The conversation between all of them continued and that feeling of despair began to fill your body once more. A part of you didn't want to leave Eddie alone with his anxieties but another part of you needed rest. When Steve rounded up the group, you followed in a haze to his car, not even realizing that the rest of them had helped you into the front seat. Placing your head in your hands you began to see visions of Chrissy…how her face didn't even look like her anymore. How her arms and legs seemed to have been crumpled like paper. It all began to fill your head until you felt a tap on your shoulder. Startled, you looked up and saw Steve Harrington. His comforting eyes looked at you like  you had never seen before.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to see if you were alright. This is a lot." His tone was soft as he spoke and it soothed your feelings of fear and sadness.

"Don't worry, you didn't scare me I just...I keep seeing her. I keep seeing her face and how she looked so scared. I keep hearing Eddie and how he sounded before he ran away." Steve placed his hand on your forearm and it was only then you really looked into his eyes.

"Y/N, it's okay. What you saw was terrible. I have seen some really bad shit but I don't think I've seen anything like Eddie saw. You are a good friend for helping us find him." You nodded your head as he spoke, suddenly feeling your eyes water.

Dustin, Max, and Robin all gave each other knowing looks watching as Steve did his best to comfort you. Max felt awful that you were now in this mess, feeling as if it was her fault because she began to enjoy being around you. Everything she touched seemed to die in her hands, so, of course, her new friend was now in danger. Robin couldn't help but notice that her best friend didn't always talk to people in such a reassuring manner as he did you. No one had gotten this treatment from him, except for maybe one person, Nancy Wheeler. Dustin's only thought was Eddie and how he prayed that his dungeon master would be safe where they left him. It appeared that the car was a bag of mixed emotions; the one thing they did share was uncertainty.

As the driver, Steve had already decided that you were the last to go home. That was when Max spoke up to say that you lived right next to her. He simply nodded and began to drive you two to Forest Hills. When pulling up Max tapped you on the shoulder.

"Y/N, I am going to go check on my mom if you need me you know where I am." You smiled at her thinking how funny that she is now worried for you.

For a while now it had been you making sure that the redhead was safe and sound. Now, she was the adult in the situation with far more experience than you could ever imagine. As she walked away, you looked around only now noticing that everyone was out of the car. Tears flowed down your cheeks as tiny hiccups escaped your lips. Looking at you, Steve felt hopeless because he knew that you were going to feel so much more sorrow. He knew he couldn't promise anything but he could be by your side. Wiping your tears away as he was doing now and letting you know it was okay to feel this way. As you continued to sob he turned his body to face you resting his elbows on the console in between.

"I'm sorry, Steve, I just haven't really felt any of this yet. I just have been going on autopilot since last night." As you spoke, he cupped your face in his big hands, wiping your last tears away and placed his hand for you to grab.

"Thank you for driving me home." Your voice trailed off as the realization that you now had to go home alone.

Being alone was something you usually cherished. The day that your mother had left for good to get into rehab was the first day you had felt the freedom of being by yourself. It was a quiet that made everything feel better but now the idea of being alone frightened you.

"Steve, could you stay the night? I just really don't want to be alone tonight. I haven't slept and…" Your voice trailed off. A smile crept on his lips as he watched you do your best to explain your feelings..

"Hey, Y/N, don't worry about it. Of course, I can stay."

You nodded as you wiped the rest of your tears off your cheeks before getting out of the car with weak knees. Steve watched almost running at the sight of your legs wobbling.

"I'm fine, just really tired." Your very first yawn now comes up as the two walk up to your trailer.

"Oh, I have a cat. I hope you aren't allergic." This fact was coming far too late as you opened the door, Bennett running up brushing himself on your leg.

"I'm sorry buddy! I know, I know you are hungry." The black cat meowed watching as you made your way to the pantry. "Do you want water or anything?" You spoke as you began to take out some glasses and a can of cat food.

"Sure, I'll take some water. I probably haven't really had enough of that today." The two of you giggled as you finished up with the cat food and began to fill the glasses with water.

Placing two ice cubes in the water, you made your way over to the wandering boy before you. A smile on your face as you watched him scan the books on the coffee table.

"Here you go. Did you need something comfy to change into? I have some Eddie's clothes around here somewhere. He's always leaving his shit around."

Steve was looking at the back of an old copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen, the sip of water he'd taken now landing back in the cup with a cough. "So you and Eddie, are you two really close?"

At this moment you had no idea what the root of this question was. Steve was very much jealous of the idea that Eddie was able to leave things at your place. His eyes locked on your’s as he placed the book back where it had been sitting before. His body now leaning against the side of the couch you smirked at the question.

"I've known Eddie for a long time. He was my first friend when I moved here with my parents. When they left, he was the one thing that stayed constant in my life, so I found comfort in that. He is like a brother to me." If you weren't in the room staring at him with your clear blue eyes, he would've let out a sigh of relief.

Instead, he kept all his cool and nodded his head as if to say cool, cool. His eyes following you as you made your way to the back room.

"I'm going to change because I can't stand being in these clothes for another day." A small laugh left your lips as you closed the door, only a slit of light showing as he tried his best not to look in that direction.

In a moment of weakness, he noticed your bare back was the only thing peeking through the crack as you changed into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt with Bruce Springsteen on it. Bennett was making eyes at the boy, not sure if he could trust this handsome stranger or not.

"Okay, so I have a ton of blankets and pillows to make your stay just a little bit more comfortable. Do you wanna sleep on the couch?" You were already pulling blankets out of what appeared to be a wicker basket. "Let me get some pillows from my room. I sleep with more than is needed." You smiled, causing him to place his hand on your forearm.

"I'm just fine, don't worry about it. Go get some rest, I'll see you in the morning. If you need me, I'll be here." Each time you felt his touch, it made parts of your brain just feel calmer.

No more need to babble on about blankets and pillows when he was right there with that smile on his face. It was at this moment that you knew you wanted to know everything there was to know about the new Steve Harrington. You nodded as he let go of your arm and began to settle into the couch.

"Alright, I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Steve." "Good night, Y/N."

Steve began to take off his shoes and jacket, placing them neatly near the lounge chair next to him. Lifting the blanket that you had placed on the couch and settling into the soft feeling of pillows. Next to him was that same book Persuasion by Jane Austen, from what he could tell it seemed to be some type of romance book. The picture of you curled up in the chair closest to him with the book in your lap made him close his eyes with a peaceful smile.

While Steve was out there painting images of you, you were lying in bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as your brain couldn't stop thinking. It felt as if several voices were speaking at once about all different things. Flashes of Chrissy's face when you found her, Eddie's eyes as he pleaded with you all, and then Max as she spoke so surely of the horrors in Hawkins. All of it overcame you until you shot up and yelled for the only person around.

"Steve!" Your voice was shaky as you spoke.

"Y/N?" He had been half asleep until he heard you shout his name in the darkness. At first, he wasn't sure if he had actually fallen asleep and was dreaming but then you spoke again.

"Could you… umm… lay next to me?" Those words sent him on his feet in a fairly quick manner.

Before you could even explain he was already in the room with you. "Oh god, were you sleeping? I'm sorry." "Don't worry about it." As you opened the covers for him to slide the two of you smiled.

It only took a few minutes for you both to get comfortable and once you had the voices in your head became quiet. As both of you began to fall asleep his hand found yours and you gave it a tiny squeeze. A tiny hum of happiness was the last thing heard before drifting off. Despite all the uncertainty, Steve and you both felt a sense of calm, but the nightmares would come like they always did and tomorrow was still a new day of fighting monsters.

[magentagalaxies]

god yeah i really appreciate this thread and i'm very intrigued what the other people in my computer think too lmao

and i definitely think you're onto something with your categories there. it's interesting for me to think about this not just as a comedian myself but also as a comedy student (and a philosophy student too for that matter). like my favorite part of studying comedy isn't making things but actually learning about different culture's views on comedy as an art form throughout history and trying to figure out what makes humor work. there's a class i'm taking next fall called "theories of humor and laughter" which is all about the philosophical and psychological aspects of why comedy exists and i wish i could take it now i'm so excited

but anyway there's been aspects of those "theories of humor and laughter" in a lot of my other classes too bc for as long as people have been making each other laugh there have been people trying to figure out why we make each other laugh. i really wish i had my notes from my evolution of comedy course on hand (i left them at school and i'm home for winter break) bc that course had so much interesting material about comedy's relationship with religion that i think you in particular would be interested by, like how certain religious scholars thought theatre was the work of the devil and laughter in particular was an act of self-superiority that went against god while on the opposite end some religions actually had creation myths about the birth of comedy as something sacred to partake in (i'm not going into details bc 1. i don't have my notes so i'd almost certainly get some facts wrong and 2. this was initially meant just to provide context for my next point but then spun off into its own thing. what i will add is the religion with the creation myth we learned about also had the character in the myth essentially do drag as the act of comedy being described which is so fascinating i'm definitely going to come back to it later when i have more info)

ANYWAY what i was initially going to say is with all the theories of comedy that i've learned about so far the one that makes the most sense to me is Benign Violation Theory. Essentially Benign Violation Theory is exactly what it says on the tin - all comedy must be a violation (most typically a violation of social convention) that is rendered benign (in essence, rendered unable to cause harm through the abstractions of humor). I like the Benign Violation Theory because it's vague enough that it's easy to apply to things in order for me to sound smart in my midterm essays. like, you know that saying "comedy is tragedy plus time"? tragedy is the violation, the time (separation) renders it benign. i did a midterm essay on the final scene of "life of brian" recently - the violation is this depiction of the main character dying on a cross, but it is rendered benign through the comic mixup of brian not being the messiah and the rest of the characters insisting he look on the bright side despite his circumstances. even with buddy cole - the violation is the taboo subject matter buddy so often chooses to talk about, it is rendered benign through his larger-than-life persona and patterns of language

now, your categories made me think of this benign violation theory because they each see a comedian utilizing the platform of benign violation for different intentions. one of the easiest ways to fill the "benign" requirement is just going "job title: comedian", or otherwise being like "hey, it's not happening to me!" this can be taken advantage of in both good and bad ways. some comedians use this as an excuse to say shitty things (bigoted or just crass) without feeling they need to put in any effort beyond that since the benign part is taken care of. however, as you may have been thinking since i explained what benign refers to ("rendered unable to cause harm") this isn't the case for a lot of comedians who spread bigoted views through their work, which is why people get caught up in the "it's just a joke" defense - the violation is no longer benign in those cases.

on the opposite side of things, we see your second category. in this case the violation is this challenge to what "normal" is or some other question of political or philosophical norms that violates status quo. It's interesting how the benign factor in this type of comedy can often be the same as the other category in that since a comedian is saying this we have more of a layer of abstraction than if a politician were to say the same thing, but that's not always the case. like you said often there will be more effort put in on both the violation and benign parts of the equation to highlight the absurdity of the situation without losing its impact

i really enjoy assessing both comedy i enjoy and comedy i don't enjoy through this framework to see where the comedian succeeded and failed. sometimes a violation is too direct because the comedian put all the responsibility on you to say "it's just a joke" without making an effort to assemble a well crafted comedic scenario. other times a violation is made too benign, like when a mainstream tv show is too afraid of offending people that it just repeats tired cliches they know people will agree with. not every piece of comedy needs to be some political or philosophical message (although it's become increasingly difficult to separate oneself from this framework since so many aspects of basic identity are seen as ideological issues today) since the benign violation theory covers everything from political satire to puns, but my favorite comedy excels at both categories - i remember when i first listened to scott thompson's comedy it genuinely felt like an electrical shock every time he'd say something taboo and i'd sit here a moment like oh my god is he allowed to say that and then i'd look around and be like huh the world isn't going to end because of that joke. in fact it was really funny. and then by the time i've processed that one there have been ten more jokes that took me on the same journey

i've also been working on my own theory of comedy which was referenced earlier in this thread. it's not as all-encompassing as the benign violation theory, but it still feels especially relevant. in my perspective, comedy is the act of telling on yourself, since the veil of humor often gives us permission to reveal our truest selves. this isn't to say everything a comedian says should be taken literally (everyone puts on personas and people still use humor to deflect from the truth in many cases) but the comedy someone creates often says something really distinct about the person making it as well as the person enjoying it in a way i don't really see with any other art form. i don't have a ton of eloquent thoughts on this since the theory is still really new, but i really admire the way certain comedians can use comedy as a way to talk about things polite society quietly agrees we'd rather not talk about, and how so often performing comedy is this kind of ritual of confession in a lot of ways.

feeling the buddy cole brainrot today i just wanna infodump about him and research him so much thank god i'm getting academic credit for this next semester

[meetmymouth]

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

[reggiejworkshop]

"Marketplace In The Morning"

It was early in the morning when the hot sun began to rise over the city of Agrabah. Within the city, the marketplace was slowly sprouting to life as the many merchants opened up their shops.  Three of them however hadn't opened theirs just yet, as they were busy chatting amongst each other. It would be incredibly busy very soon, the area would be crowded with locals, vagabonds, and traders. So, the best time to mingle would be now. 

The largest of the three, Farouk, was once again complaining about the city's notorious street rat that had once again stolen from his cart the other day. And after he had just brought in a new kind of apples as well. The merchants never knew the street rat's real name, Aladdin, but his occupation was all too familiar to them.  The other two merchants listened with growing indifference as this would often lead into him bragging about the supposed "variety' of his merchandise.

"...these are much brighter red than the ones I normally get, you really cannot tell the difference, Omar?!" Farouk exclaimed as he held up a bright red apple.

 The fruit merchant in question leaned in for a closer look with a shrug. "They're red like the others, and they hurt my teeth just the same." Omar replied bluntly, he carried two large watermelons in both of his arms. "This is why I prefer melons, they're soft and sweet, especially these new ones! They're big and harder and carry. I'd like to see him nab these!"

The jewelry merchant, Kezar, chuckled from behind him. "Don't jinx it. He might take that as a challenge."

Omar shook his head. "Agh, probably..."

"Please, the only reason your smiling about this is because he hasn't stolen from you yet!" Farouk groaned.

"Not yet, but that boy wouldn't know what to do with it if he tried. He doesn't know the value of my stuff." Kezar replied. He then opened up his chest he'd been carrying under his arm to show the variety of necklaces, badges, and shawls stuffed inside.

"What did you bring this time?" Omar asked. Farouk leaned in for a closer look. 

"I've got plenty of new stuff, fresh from Persia! Jade necklaces, silver bracelets, and lots of silk." He held up a bright pink one from his chest.  "This one is on hold for the lady, Bakhtawar."

Omar perked his head "That old lady who teaches those three orphaned ladies in the bazar?" 

"Hah, you mean brothel?!" Farouk barked.

Omar bristled at his accusation. "Farouk!"

"Only you would accuse a woman with magnificent taste like of something like that!" Kezar spat. 

Farouk crossed his arms, "Please, you've seen how those girls dress?! I know her better than you, there is nothing, that your jewelry can do to make her magnificent!"

Kezar puffed up his chest with a prideful sneer. "My jewelry can make anything look magnificent!" He pointed at a passing peddler riding a donkey, "That donkey can be a noble steer..." he pulled out a pair of earrings and held them towards Omar's ears. "He can become our revered sultan; they got the same physique!"

"Kezar, stop that!" Omar chuckled with a blush. 

Kezar then wrapped the silk around his own head and fluttered his eyes, " And I, can become pretty harem lady!"

Farouk groaned with disgust as he snatched the silk from his hands before tossing in the chest. "You and your boyish jokes! Not even the 'Cave of Wonders' could accomplish that last feat!"

Kezar's smirk disappeared.  "Id laugh if that place weren't a myth..."

"Is is not! It's a real place...!"

Meanwhile, as the merchants talked, a fourth guest was peering on the group from above a striped tent.

The small ring tailed monkey named Abu, saw the bright red apple in Farouk's hands and visualized in his own. However he knew trying to take that particular one from him would be a death wish, so he set his eyes on the ones in the basket right below him. He climbed down the tent pole's and hid right behind the large basket. He nearly froze when a familiar person came up in the conversation.

"...But anyway, that street rat better stay one jump ahead if he knows what's good for him."  Farouk stated.

"And why is that?" Omar asked, rolling his eyes. Farouk repeated that statement so many people, he wouldn't be surprised if the street rat somehow knew.

"If I ever caught him, he'd wish the Palace guards got to him first." Farouk replied with a devious chuckle before pointing at his own face. "I have eyes in the back of my head"

 It was at this point Abu decided now was the time to move. He quickly scampered in and out of the basket. He was about to make his getaway when he froze momentarily.  Kezar's eyes lazily glanced towards his direction.

"You might need a second pair of glasses then" Kezar stated before pointing at Abu. Both Omar and Farouk looked over at the monkey in shock.  Abu chattered his best insult before running off with two apples in his arms.

Farouk growled before he threw down his fez hat. Red faced, he tugged at his own bushy beard. "Agh, first its street rats! Now its street monkeys! Come back here!"

The portly apple merchant trotted after the monkey who now had a huge lead ahead of him ducked into a narrow alley. Farouk followed far behind, stumbling on a few barrels in his path.  As he did, Kezar stood and laughed at the absurd display before them.

" I can't believe it!  A street monkey! A street monkey!" Kezar said incredulously. "Can you imagine that?!"

Omar shook his head. "That's just what we need, more thieves in this city. Next thing you'll know, well find out he's friends with the street rat!"

"Don't jinx it, Omar. It might..."

"Be true. I know. It's just wishful thinking" Omar cut him off, genuinely annoyed. "Must you taunt me and Farouk like this?" 

"I cant help it if my fellow merchants inspire my best material, especially when I only have an audience of one." Kezar replied pointing at him with a smile.

Omar couldn't help but reply with a dry chuckle of his own "Keep fine tuning it, and then Farouk might actually be your second"

 The two of them chattered amongst themselves before they headed off to their own tents to set up for what would another busy day for the marketplace.

This is actually a remake of an older art piece I did WAY back in 2017. 

While at the time I did say that I loved it, I always felt the shading and linework wasn't as good as I would have preferred. And I actually had planned on redoing this for the longest, but I never got around to doing it.

Few major things different here, instead of using regular sketch paper like last time, this was done with the toned tan paper I've been using lately.  The first one was mainly done with Crayola pencils and a mixture of Prismacolor and Steadlers ones added in. So I kept it simpler with just Prismacolor this go around. I did my ink work before AND after the coloring process, which was a lot harder than expected since its pretty hard to ink right on top of wax based pencils like Prismacolor.

I wanted to go deeper on the shading and thicker on the line work so their would be a lot depth to the composition that I felt was lacking in the original. Especially for Abu (who I finally drew on model this time!) was intended to be closer in the foreground than the other characters. 

Overall, I'm extremely pleased with how well this one turned out! It's amazing to see how much you realized you improved in 5 years!

[sokkastyles]

Zutara Month Day 10: Oma and Shu

I’ve seen some people point out that Zutara doesn’t necessarily fit Oma and Shu because the Oma and Shu myth is more Romeo and Juliet than enemies to lovers, and those people are not necessarily wrong. Romeo and Juliet, just like Oma and Shu, were never themselves enemies. They did nothing but love each other, but were forbidden from being together because of the feud. Zutara, in most interpretations, is less a “forbidden” romance and more a transition from enemies to friends to lovers. Most people imagine them growing to love each other after becoming friends, often after Zuko’s redemption and the end of the war. Nonetheless, the Oma and Shu story does share several parallels with Zutara that many fans have picked up on. What I want to do is examine some of these parallels from a meta angle, to look at the Oma and Shu story as it appears in the series and other similar stories that appear in ATLA, and to also compare them to similar stories in the real world, and analyze a bit the popularity of these various tales of forbidden love, why they are popular, and what their purpose is, as well as how Zutara fits into all this.

In universe, the Oma and Shu story, in addition to being a love story, is also an origin myth of sorts for the Earth Kingdom. It explains the creation of the city of Omashu, as well as telling the story of some of the first humans to learn earthbending. The message of the story, in addition to being a tale about love thriving between two unlikely people, and a cautionary tale about what happens when love is prevented from flourishing, is also a message about love being an act of creation and a force of transformation.

Love is brightest in the dark.

This sentence is a paradox, but it fits with the theme of balance that the show comes back to again and again, of breaking down barriers and deconstructing dichotomies to create something new, something more whole than the original. Something mirroring the harmony of yin and yang.

The greatest illusion of this world is the illusion of separation. Things you think are separate and different are actually one and the same. We are all one people, but we live as if divided.

The above quote by Guru Pathik is also similar to Iroh’s philosophy, which he tries to teach Zuko.

It is important to draw wisdom from many different places. If you take it from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale. Understanding others, the other elements, and the other nations will help you become whole.

Iroh also says something in “The Crossroads of Destiny” that echoes the Oma and Shu story.

Iroh: Perfection and power are overrated. I think you were very wise to choose happiness and love.

Aang: What happens if we can't save anyone and beat Azula? Without the Avatar State, what if I'm not powerful enough?

Iroh: I don't know the answer. Sometimes, life is like this dark tunnel. You can't always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you just keep moving, [Aang earthbends the rocks away one last time. Iroh's fire blows out. He smiles.] you will come to a better place.

Iroh says that Aang is wise to choose love over power, while walking through a dark tunnel, and advises Aang to trust in the darkness to bring him to the light. Meanwhile, Zuko and Katara, two people on opposite sides of a war, share a moment of unlikely tenderness in a cave lit by glowing crystals.

Zuko in the crystal catacombs does what Iroh has been trying to teach him to do, to let go of pride and the need for power, and to instead embrace compassion and humility. Which is what he does when he apologizes to Katara. This is also part of what stories like Romeo and Juliet teach us, that pride and petty grievances are destructive, and that only by embracing love do we become whole.

I know the prompt is Oma and Shu, but thinking about that story and its place in the narrative made me think about other mythic stories that appear in the series, so let’s look at another one that has significance for zutara: Love Amongst the Dragons, Ursa’s favorite play that she took young Zuko and Azula to see every year.

The actual story of Love Amongst the Dragons, according to the ATLA wiki, is this:

The play features the Dragon Emperor, bound to mortal form by the Dark Water Spirit, and forced to adopt the alias of Noren. The humble experience results in Noren falling in love with a mortal, and through this love he is able to break free of his curse. The play concludes with Noren defeating the Dark Water Spirit and embracing his mortal girlfriend, revealed to be the Dragon Empress.

What struck me when I found this description was that this is, with some slight changes, pretty much the Chinese myth of the marriage between Dragon and Phoenix, a representation for yin and yang and harmony in marriage, and which I compared in a meta to zutara as well.

Like the Oma and Shu story, it is a story about unlikely love, and about crossing divisions. It also has a lot of similarities with various myths involving shapeshifting love-interests, often referred to as “animal bride/husband” myths (which beauty and the beast is a subset of).

The symbolism of the tale in-universe is in its connection to Ursa, and thus Zuko’s connection to his mother. Zuko’s connection to his mother is contrasted with his connection to his father, which is representative of Zuko’s destructive side. When Zuko was trying to capture the Avatar, he was searching for his father’s approval, to become someone that would earn his father’s love. Ursa, meanwhile, taught Zuko kindness and compassion, and told him that it didn’t matter that he wasn’t the most powerful or strong. That Ursa took Zuko to see this particular play is significant, a play about a godlike being, the Dragon Emperor, being humbled and learning to love.

Only with your glory hidden in false form could you recognize my devotion.

Though different, and originating in a different nation, this is another tale about love shining through the dark, about letting go of pride and choosing compassion. Animal bride/husband myths are often about seeing past what is hidden to see the truth. They are stories of transformation, and like the Oma and Shu story, are about the transformative power of love.

It’s also from this play that Zuko gets his Blue Spirit alter ego, which Zuko uses as an exploration of his own identity apart from being the Fire Nation prince. In this story the same mask is worn by the villainous Dark Water Spirit. It is very interesting that Zuko uses an identity associated with water for this purpose. Also, like the Blue Spirit, the Dark Water Spirit seems to be a bit on the morally ambiguous side. Even though the spirit is defeated at the end of the story, its motivation for transforming the Dragon Emperor seems to be to teach him humility, and this is a message the play seems to promote.

Zuko and Azula’s dialogue from the above comic pages is interesting because it expands on what we already know about both characters. Zuko complains about always having to play the villain, just as he was made a scapegoat by his father and sister, and his adapting of the Blue Spirit identity is essentially him reclaiming that identity that was forced on him while trying to figure out who he really is. Azula sees herself as the Dragon Emperor, but she misunderstands the message of the story completely, and it’s not a coincidence that she talks over the love scene in the comic above and responds angrily and pridefully to the man who tries to shush her. Similar to Ozai when he names himself the Phoenix King, ironically misinterpreting the actual myth. I also think there’s something interesting to say about gender here, as this post points out. Not only does Ozai associate himself with a female figure, but Azula associates herself with the male Dragon Emperor, while Zuko is associated with the more feminine water spirit (water being a feminine element.) However, by the end of the series, Zuko embodies the transformed Dragon Emperor, while Katara I associated before with the Phoenix/Dragon Empress, as she is associated with healing and rebirth. Also notice the red and blue color coding in the comic page above, both with the Water Spirit and Dragon Emperor and in the coloring of the two lovers.

This also brings me to another play present in the series, the play that the gaang goes to see performed by the Ember Island Players. The same players that Zuko says his mother took him to see. The play we see them put on in the series is a Fire Nation propaganda play, promoting Ozai and the war. I actually can’t imagine that Love Amongst the Dragons, a play about a Dragon Emperor learning humility, was very popular during Ozai’s reign. We hear about it being performed before Ozai became Fire Lord, but we can assume that those visits to the theatre stopped after Ursa’s disappearance. The only other time we hear about that particular play being performed is after the end of the war. This leads me to imagine that it was necessary for the Ember Island Players to find a different play to perform while Ozai was in charge. While the play is not necessarily subverting Fire Nation superiority (the villain is a water spirit, after all), it is confrontational enough that I can imagine Ozai’s brand of narcissism seeing it as a challenge to his authority. Ozai who disdained love in favor of power and control.

“The Boy in the Iceberg” contains another love story between two people from opposite sides in their depiction of Zuko and Katara in the crystal catacombs. I wrote before about how I’ve seen interpretations of this that say that the Fire Nation was trying to portray zutara as an “inferior” Water Tribe woman falling for a “superior” Fire Nation man - essentially saying that the play is in favor of zutara as a piece of Fire Nation pro-colonization propaganda - but the problem with this is that that isn’t how zutara is depicted in the play. The play mocks zutara by portraying Zuko as submissive and subservient to Aang, and Zuko is later killed, as he is currently a traitor and threat to the Fire Nation. Thus, the “romance” between Zuko and Katara is not being depicted as supporting the superior masculinity of Fire Nation men, but rather portraying Zuko, who willingly chose to dissasociate himself with the Fire Nation, as emasculated and submissive to other, “lesser” men and aggressive “foreign” women.

This is a complete mockery of the real connection that Zuko and Katara had in the catacombs, the kind of love that is inherently subversive because it requires Zuko humbling himself in front of Katara and admitting that he was wrong, and working for her forgiveness. It is the kind of love that the Fire Nation under Ozai’s rule rejects. The kind of love that is truly transformative, revelatory, and brings light to the darkness. The kind of love that creates rather than destroys, that unifies rather than divides. That is humble and not prideful. That’s the appeal of zutara.

[bestiarum]

i keep having thoughts on europeanatural, so here we go with a very rant-y post about slavicnatural, written mostly from the cultural aspect (although it’s mostly polishnatural, but fellow slavs don’t hesitate to add your own stuff to this!!)

don't @ me about the grammar and spelling okay sjdjcjd

the post is long so i decided to write the rest of it under the cut :)

as many people have said before, europe is old. everything here is old. many, many haunted places. so much history to explore. that could provide so many such amazing episodes

dean would be OBSESSED with the history of the teutonic order. now, that’s not exactly slavic but poland has *history* with them. dean would love all the stories. as we know, dean is an avid reader. he’d definetly enjoy “knights of the cross” by sienkiewicz. he’d also insist they travel to malbork just because. and then obviously they’d discover a case there

cas... knowing how to speak in kashubian... i’m obsessed

the lore!! slavic culture has such interesting myths and legends!! svarog, perun, etc... the story of the dragon of wawel sdkjdjhdjk vars and sava... exploring that would be so good oh my god... like, the witcher or american gods style, but better dhkdkhkj

the boys travelling to different countries and not having to learn the languages cause they are able to communicate as slavic languages are similar... or!! they mess up terribly!! russian and polish might seem alike but are actually quite different!!

the stereotypes about slavs and drinking are... exaggerated, but really, dean drinking vodka like water. legal drinking age is 18, not 21. the implications of this particular fact

while we’re at it, you can drive at 18 as well. john having to teach the boys how to drive and this being a problem cause they look way too young to be 18

also, overall, slavic people are less... expressive? doesn’t mean less friendly or hospitable (that’s actually something lots of slavic countries are famous for). it’s just that personal space is more important. you won’t come up to your neighbour and ask them about their day. and as far as i know, unlike in america, the words “how are you” would be treated not as a greeting, but as an invitation to actually start talking about your life. you also use lots of those so-called “filler words” (such as: mhm, hmm, oh-uh) and it’s not considered dismissive or not enthusiastic enough. sam and dean, having spent years in each others’ presence, knowing exactly how to interpret the other’s non-lexical fillers

connected with this is also the fact that people generally are more closed off when it comes to displaying emotions. idk maybe it’s just my experience (i’m very introverted djkd) but people generally don’t hug that often and don’t have those heart to heart conversations unless it’s something really important. the boys having even bigger emotional issues because of that

..... the issues with homophobia and general bigotry being... worse (like, this is a bit of a stereotype, but really, i can tell you from my own experience, marriage equality is a pipe dream here :/). dean definetly having more issues with his own masculinity and sexuality because of that

the omnipresent christianity, whether orthodox or catholic. sam being very devout and dean, with his difficult relationship with faith, trying to live in a world where crosses are hung in every room

JEWISHNESS!!!!! both the stuff that’s actually nice to talk about (jewishness is such a cool topic and also a huge part of polish history), and (unfortunately) things like the holocaust. i’m bringing this up because wwii and those things are insanely important in poland. you’ll watch the pianist in primary school, noone cares that it’s “drastic”. everyone is extremly well educated on the topic. whether you vibe with the whole jupernatural thing or not, this is an important part of the culture. maybe sam and dean having jewish heritage and this part of history not being handled the way it was in “the one you’ve been waiting for” :/

trains. travelling that way would be a lot more effective and also cheaper. the boys spending hours in small compartments, studying lore... god.

also, dean driving an old fiat :)

OR the boys not having a car because in poland public transport and aforementioned trains are really popular

THE FOOD. dean absolutely loves it, sam claims it’s too greasy. and like... it’s not just pierogi. it’s also potato pancakes and meat and borscht and generally every way of eating a potato ever!! it’s amazing, truly

also, the celebration of christmas eve. dean missing the way it looked like when mary was alive, the traditional twelve dishes, a bit of hay under the tablecloth (yes, that’s a real thing), the midnight mass, the christmas tree, the wreaths, and everything else. the special borscht that you eat only once a year. with john it was just some cheap take out (also the thing is that you can’t eat meat during christmas eve, and sam always feels bad about it, too)

easter and dean remembering how mary used to hide chocolate eggs in the garden for him to find them :’)

apples. apples everywhere.

did i mention religious imaginery

traditonal outfits!! dean, who loves dressing up, making sure to do research and find some authentic highlander outfits (the destiel wedding looks like this :)) 

also while we’re at it, dean and cas retiring in bieszczady <3 (look this up, it’s like, my favorite place in the world)

[godsofhumanity]

#- i really like that because in my own idea of how the gods interact with each other.. i've always liked the idea that Zeus says a lot of-#-silly things like 'oh frigg u look prettier every time i see u' or something..#-but it's just friendly banter.

If I can just high-jack your comments? Thanks. Anyway what more can you tell me about your ideas of how the gods interact between pantheons?

HIIII YEAH this is like my favourite question ever ily

forewarning-- lots of this stuff is just silly but i've thought about it a lot so here we go

ok so, i like the idea that pretty much every god that appears in their respective mythology is their own individual person.. i mean, the clearest example would be the Roman and the Greeks- we usually just use "Juno" and "Hera" as interchangeable names, but IMO, i like the idea that the romans and the greeks are very separated. they're completely different gods.

i think that the pantheons are very close though. i think Zeus and Jupiter have fights about who copied who, and Ares is constantly trying to join Mars because Mars gets treated wayyyy nicer than Ares does by the Greeks. the reality is though-- neither of them can remember who came first, because they're both so old T-T

with the other pantheons, i imagine that all of them were ultimately formed from Chaos. i think Chaos has a lot of different names-- the void, the nothing.. but in any case, all the gods came from this one Chaos.

and i think that to begin with, they tried to form a universe together, but everyone had so many different ideas about what should happen, so they ended up forming separate groups with like-minded gods, and these became distinct pantheons.

anyways.. this is silly but i wouldn't be surprised if they held like "world pantheon meetings" where all the heads of the pantheons and important gods gather together and make reports on sacrifices, souls, the laws, etc. and i like the idea that the pantheons have to take turns to host the meeting.

ok,, now in the specific example that i mentioned in the tags, i love the idea of the queens of the pantheons hanging out together.

in many pantheons, there's almost always some sort of distinct male head.. but i've found that there isn't often a distinct female head because the kings tend to have lots of affairs.. so i like the idea of the queens bonding together and sticking up for each other.

i think that Frigg, Hera, Juno, and Isis have a very strong connection and they go through a lot together.

it would be out-of-character i think for Zeus to not make any mention at all of how pretty a goddess would be, so i think he does make these comments about the goddesses, but he'll never ever be serious about it. i just like the idea that Zeus has a boundary and a line he wouldn't cross.. not that Frigg, Juno, or Isis would ever entertain the idea.

also with Juno and Hera, since the two goddesses are so similar, i hc that they get on extremely well.. they know each other's sentences before they've even spoken. but at the same time, sometimes they get on each other nerves and they become catty towards each other T-T

i've already mentioned loads of times my Guy Scouts idea.. definitely all the heads of the pantheons are hanging out together and making bad dad jokes while sharing BBQ tips. no doubts about it.

obvs i have loads of story ideas for lots of different myths, and i always try to include like,, references to other pantheons-- so in my Hades x Persephone story, i have this part where Persephone talks about her mum knowing another harvest god who has a ship that can fold up.. which is very obviously a reference to Freyr in the Norse pantheon.

so i can imagine the agricultural gods gathering together and sharing their farming tips or whatever. i like the idea of Demeter and Freyr getting along,, i think Freyr is very kind and gentle soul,, and Demeter appreciates how respectful and just, generally not vulgar he is.

in my Aphrodite x Hephaestus story, i wrote this part about Hephaestus getting a prosthetic limb and Zeus recalling that he knows a god from another pantheon who had his foot replaced with an obsidian mirror, which is a reference to Tezcatlipoca.

i think that, as heads of their pantheon, Zeus and Tezcatlipoca definitely have met each other before and talked.

anyways.. there are soo many instances across myths where there are just such great parallels and mirrors of stories,, so it's just fun to imagine what they'd be like if they all met each other and talked idkkk

[adhdeancas]

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia. 

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?” 

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?” 

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about. 

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks. 

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname. 

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

------------------------------------------------------

“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles. 

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom. 

-----------------------------------------------------

“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome. 

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing. 

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

 “Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying, 

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly. 

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary. 

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

------------------------------------------------------

“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice. 

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.” 

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up. 

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

-------------------------------------------------------

They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.” 

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex. 

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude. 

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously. 

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom. 

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”