#but i mean this is as real as i can explain

[phae-touched]

Haka is the most powerful, moving, compelling, evocative, human form of expression I have ever encountered.

I have zero personal association with Māori culture, little more than base knowledge of Māori history, and no part of my dance training included any part of Māori practices.

To this day, no other dance form or performance art or cultural expression has ever affected me so completely and with such immediacy. Every haka I have witnessed has been so moving. I don't know that I have ever managed to watch one without tears in my eyes. I don't speak the language, I don't know what the movements "mean", I have no real frame of reference for the reasons the dancers have for the dance.

And yet, I have never felt the lack of understanding when watching a haka. The dance itself transcends language barriers and experiential ignorance. I can feel the meaning without comprehending it.

No other cultural art form has ever felt more purely human than haka, to me. It speaks to the emotion and drive and power and passion within all of us. It not only puts those qualities on display, but I feel it pulls them out of me, too. I find it so hard to really explain how haka impacts me, as a completely ignorant observer, by making me feel so intimately and obviously connected to the dancers.

I don't know what this bill says (though I will after I'm done posting this and can go look it up), but if the response to it is this defiant, potent, unassailable humanity in motion... I'm going to bet it's not great, and probably ripping it up was a polite gesture.

Hana-Rawhiti Kareariki Maipi-Clarke, the youngest MP in Aotearoa, starts a haka to protest the first vote on a bill reinterpreting the 1840 Treaty of Waitangi

[0mg-bird]

Lover’s Rock~ S. Reid

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Spencer isn’t the only one that stands out in the crowd, but maybe that’s a good thing, because that’s what leads him to you.

Warnings: I didn’t really proof read, I’ll do it later lol. 18+ content towards the end. Um Reid is such a dweeb and adorable???? Fluff, mentions of alcohol and embarrassment. Reader is so twee (can we bring twee back or no?) idk she makes questionable fashion choices.

Really, this wasn’t your thing.

The bar scene, the club dresses all the girls where, the high heels and the whole game of cat and mouse that all the guys want to play. But you’re here, you made an effort to appease your best friends who claim you have no social life.

The entire night so far, they watched you strike out with the guys they motioned over because in their mind, you’re desperate and lonely and lame.

Okay, maybe that’s more of your headspace than theirs, but they’ve been offering you pity glances this whole time.

You’ve made a decision a while ago that maybe there was no romance out there for you. You were just born with some aspect that made normal, sane guys physically run away, and maybe that’s fine. You were really good on your own. And it never did feel right when you had a guy, if it didn’t feel like the movies, it wasn’t worth it.

Right?

Okay, maybe you should settle, at some point, you’ll be too old to marry and you’ll just keep working, with no real life and take care of Shelly, your goldfish. Maybe it won’t be perfect, but it’ll be someone to share things with.

You let out a huff and watch the ice melt in your drink, not bothering to smile when your friend tells you to brighten up.

Normally, you’re a ray of sunshine, but something about getting rejected four consecutive times is raining on your parade.

An entire bar full of happy people in their element, and it’s just you, sticking out like a sore thumb, especially when your friends go dance with a few guys they hit it off with.

Too busy looking at the buckle on the ankle strap of your heel, you are sinking somewhere in your mind, to a place where you aren’t listening to cheap song lyrics of and realizing that table is stickier than you thought.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Reid.”

“Spencer!” Penelope smacks his shoulder, pulling him from the trance of his eyes on the book pages.

He looks up from the corner booth, seeing his team has returned with drinks.

“Are you seriously reading right now?” Morgan criticizes, placing a beer in front of the younger agent.

Spencer doesn’t know why he does this, beer tastes like a plowed hay field in his opinion. But he takes the drink in gratitude and before he can explain that he was just trying to finish the Russian publishing of ‘Crime and Punishment’, Morgan rips the book from his hands and tosses it to Emily for safe keeping.

“I- what was that for?” Spencer questions with a unjust squeak, feeling rather sad.

“Look around, kid, do you see how many fine ladies are here? You don’t need to be sitting here with your nose between the pages of Little Women.” Morgan states as a matter of fact.

“Yeah, nobody puts baby in the corner.” Penelope agrees.

With an airy scoff, Spencer looks to the other members for help, but they all seem to side with Derek.

He gains a defeated frown.

Spencer didn’t want to be here in the first place, now he’s being forced out into the public to socialize. There has to be a law against this, he knows there’s not because he knows everything, but he is certainly going to try and create one.

“Oh come on, Spence, why don’t you try to get a date?” JJ asks, meaning well, but the laugh that comes from Emily makes him want to recoil.

“C’mon, I’ll help you.” Morgan offers, pulling him from the booth seat.

“Yeah, that never really works well when you try to be my wingman, you usually end up with all the phone numbers.” Spencer claims, pressing his lips into a line.

But like some mock savior, Morgan stands behind Reid as they wait by the bar.

“What about her?” Morgan would point out.

To which Reid would respond with some variation of ‘she’s too much’ or ‘she definitely has a boyfriend three times my size’.

After fifteen minutes of this back and forth, Morgan is seriously regretting he forced the hermit out of his shell.

And that’s when a rowdy group finally leaves and clears the path of vision to you.

Still sat at a high table with one leg crossed over the other, you wiggle your foot as you doodle on a drink napkin.

Reid misses whatever Morgan says, and in that air of silence, the agent follows the vision.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Derek chuckles, clapping Reid on the shoulder. “She’s pretty. Go talk to her.”

“What?” Reid looks away. “No, no, I don’t want to disturb her.”

You let out a very bored sigh.

Derek’s brows furrow. “I know you’re some boy genius but you really are dumb sometimes. Everything about that girl is screaming ‘put me outa my misery’.”

Spencer tilts his head slightly, watching you rub your eye and then frown at the way you smudged your already smudged eye liner.

“Okay, maybe you’re right.” He nods. “But…what do I say?”

Derek grins. “Compliment her, ask if she wants another drink, strike up a conversation. It’s easy, man.”

Spencer gets an uneasy feeling in him, but he still braves through it. “Easy for you, maybe.” He mumbles before running a hand through his hair and takes a step towards you.

“Go get her, tiger!” Morgan encourages.

When he returns to the team with the happy news, Penelope asks if Spencer’s gonna do good.

“Oh, definitely not, we’ll be lucky if he doesn’t trip over his own feet on the way over there.” Derek answers, laughing.

But Spencer makes it to you without a stumble, yet his whole plan leaves his mind when he gets to you.

You’re gorgeous, too pretty for him.

“Nice legs.”

Did he just say that?

You look up at him upon hearing his voice, your wide eyes confused.

“I’m sorry?” You question, not sure if you heard this stranger correctly.

He’s a rather handsome stranger.

“No- I mean I like your legs- tights! Not your legs, you have nice legs of course but that’s not- your tights are nice- cool! Different?”

Oh god, he should just walk away now. He’s already messed this whole thing up and surely you think he’s an idiot.

While he’s got an embarrassed look on his face, you look down at the red lace tights you wear under your skirt, something your friends questioned as a fashion choice.

“You really like them?” You ask, voice soft to his ears.

He stops his rambling.

“Yeah, of course I do, I think they’re cool.” He smiles softly.

You can’t help but grin bashfully.

“Every guy I’ve talked to tonight thought they were a little weird, but that’s okay, I kinda like weird.” You admit, watching as he shakes his head.

“People say my socks are weird all the time, don’t feel bad.” He comforts, pulling the material of his pants up so you can see his mismatched socks with funky colors and prints on them.

“Those are cool.” Your approval eases him, giving him just enough reassurance that you aren’t going to scream for help in the next two minutes.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid- sorry, force of habit, uh, just Spencer. I-I’m Spencer.” He introduces with the smallest of wave.

Still smiling more than you have the entire night, you greet him. He repeats your name like it has some special meaning, and you’ve never loved the sound of it more.

“I was going to get a drink, what are you having?” He asks, looking at your sweating glass. “Vodka soda? Cherry sour?”

You blush. “It’s actually a shirley temple…I just ate all the cherries out of it already.”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

He leaves you at your table, and then your brief moment of sunshine is clouded once more by doubt. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he drugs your drink and then you wake up in an alley somewhere, missing your wallet and phone and your tights that he thinks are so cool?

This was a bad idea. Dating isn’t for you. He seemed so nice and he’s so attractive but that should have been your first red flag and-

Oh. He’s coming back.

With two shirley temples.

He places them on the table and waits for you to grab one, then he grabs the other and takes a sip.

“You mind if I sit?” He asks.

Feeling a little silly for assuming he was out to maim you, you nod.

“I seriously doubt my friends remember I’m over here, so feel free to stay.” You joke at your expense.

He sits across from you, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his team who make it very obvious that they’re staring.

You study his profile, a shaggy haircut that falls across his forehead, all tousled in an effortless way. His jaw line is defined, round brown eyes that flick back to you. When he catches you looking, he grins once more.

It’s never been so…easy, having a ‘get to know you’ conversation. Questions come without second thoughts, you find yourself laughing, actually laughing.

Playing with your straw, you try to calm your facial expressions, your cheeks are starting to hurt from beaming so much.

“So, Dr. Reid, huh?” You ask, making him let out a small huff of embarrassment.

“That’s what the PhD’s say, yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly feeling really dorky about his immense amount of education.

It’s not dorky to you. Every guy you’ve talked to tonight dropped out of community college because ‘it didn’t align with their career paths’ of selling protein smoothies or working in some ‘underground’ record store.

But here Spencer is, explaining he’s on the behavioral analysis unit for the FBI and he tells you about all the degrees he has. All you can think about as he talks of universities and the academy is, knowledge is such a sexy look on a guy. Sure, you’ve never really liked the underachieving stoners, but usually you’ve been with guys who seem to say “you like school?” when you talk about working towards your Masters degree.

“Wow.” Is all you can say for a moment, clearly shocked and, well, impressed. “I really wasn’t expecting that.”

“That’s what most people say.” He nods, picking the cherry in his drink out by the stem and offering it to you.

By your thankful eyes batting up at him, he’s tempted on going behind the bar and bringing you all the maraschino cherries they have. He quickly turns the conversation around to focus on you so he can focus on something other than the stained color on your lips.

“What about you? What do you do?” He asks.

Compared to his job, yours seems too normal, too mundane. You almost want to avoid the question, never once have you been unsatisfied with your career but now you can’t help it. What if Spencer doesn’t like you because you don’t work for NASA?

That’s ridiculous, because to Spencer, your job makes his adoration grow.

“Oh, I’m just a teacher.” You say, fiddling with a stem in your mouth.

Spencer gains a soft smile. “You could never just be a teacher, teacher’s are important. Well, unless you’re a sucky teacher.”

His joke earns a bubbly giggle and he decides he’d like to hear that sound forever. It’s moments like this that he’s glad to have an eidetic memory.

“I don’t think I’m a sucky teacher so that’s good, my students seem to like me.” You state, pushing your hair behind your ear and dropping the knotted stem onto a napkin.

Spencer finds himself leaning a little closer, body naturally gravitating to your pull. “What do you teach?” He asks.

“I work for my schools gifted children program, so I basically teach kid geniuses advanced core curriculum because they’ve tested out of their normal classes.” You chuckle, oblivious to the way Spencer’s heart warms.

He remains quiet for a bit too long, just staring at you with an honest look, one that makes you feel like you’re turned inside out and bared for him. The panic rises again, you think you must have said something to ruin it.

“I know it’s nothing special-” You begin to say.

“No.” He interrupts, a sure tone. “I-I think it’s great. Really, that’s not an easy job.”

Deep breath out, you’re put at ease.

“I constantly have imposter syndrome, these kids are twelve and bringing up philosophies and mathematical formulas I have to go home and study because I haven’t even learned them yet. Honestly, sometimes I don’t even think they need me there.” You joke lightly, half meaning it but masking that slight insecurity by finishing off your drink.

“They need you.” Spencer assures, an expression showing he’s never been more sure of something. “Believe me, you’re probably the only person they see in a school day that understands them.”

Brows creased, you shake your head, holding his rather intimidating gaze for such puppy dog eyes.

“What makes you so sure?” You question.

Spencer takes in a breath. “Because I know what it’s like to be twelve years old and telling a grown adult about Fermat’s Last Theorem.”

Sometimes, the world has a funny way of putting two people together. For years, you’ve wandered through life and on a random Friday night, feeling a little flushed from the Summer air, here is Spencer Reid, the man of your dreams.

Your friends left some time ago after you assured them you were fine to be left at the place you were just complaining about being. You don’t mind being left with Spencer, in fact, you’re dreading the time you have to go home because it means this moment is over.

“I really would like to live in New York.” You exclaim, somehow have fallen into the rabbit hole of dreams for the future.

“New York’s really cool!” He agrees. “Did you know that they have a homicide rate of 4.48 percent right now? It’s been declining since the nineties.”

You must make some sort of surprised face because his eyes go wide and he quickly tried to recover his odd statement.

“Sorry, my job isn’t really full of happy statistics. But mostly we just find dead prostitutes in alleys in New York.”

His blushed cheeks make your heart flutter in its beats.

“I’m glad I’m not a prostitute.” You giggle, making him chew his bottom lip for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re not either.”

By the time the team gets their coats back on with the intention of heading home, they look across the room to see their quirky doctor friend is partaking in very friendly body language.

“Oh my god, look at him.” Emily laughs. “He’s finally using that big IQ of his.”

Penelope, who comes to hold onto Morgan’s arm, grins rather proudly. “It’s like a butterfly finally coming out of its cocoon. It’s…beautiful, actually.”

Derek laughs down at her. “I think that last long island ice tea was a bad idea. Come on, baby, let’s get you home.”

“Good luck, my fine friend.” She calls in the general direction of you and Spencer, but the two of you don’t notice.

JJ ties her hair up and starts to take a few steps forward.

“Where are you going?” Penelope questions.

“To let him know we’re leaving?”

“No!” The team seems to exclaim, all shouting that she cannot disturb the moment Spencer worked rather hard to get to.

She just holds her hands up in defense, then follows after Emily as they leave the bar.

Spencer of course notices the way Prentiss leaves him with an encouraging thumbs up. It makes his get a little bashful, but he nods a goodbye and watches the door shut once more. His attention is brought back to his hand on the table, well, more to the way your pinky brushes against his. You continue to talk about mutual interests and what your apartment in New York would look like, a slight ramble to you that shows you’re very aware of the slight contact.

With some kind of placebo courage he can’t even blame on alcohol, he lets his fingers crawl between yours like that’s where they belong.

The team would definitely laugh at this teenage display, but to the both of you, it’s the perfect amount of reassurance, soft enough to not be too scary.

The attraction is there, Spencer forces himself to profile it just so his negative thoughts can’t prove him wrong. You’re smiling at every word, your eyes seem to stay dilated and focused on his, and he isn’t sure if you even realize the way your heel brushes his ankle every so often.

His profile, often never wrong, is what helps him reach across the slight space to tuck your hair behind your ear so casually as he tells you about his minuscule music taste.

After a few flirty comments, you force yourself yo look away from him just so you can het your breathing under control. Upon this action, you read the watch on his wrist and a frown sets on your lipstick stained lips.

“I should go home before it’s too late to walk.” You sigh, not wanting this moment to end.

He nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Those round eyes he’s starting to really adore look up at him and you chew your lip, almost like you’re waiting for him to do something. Say something.

It takes him entirely too long to figure out what to do. Morgan would be ashamed.

“C-Can I walk you home?” He asks in a rush and in eagerness.

You nod like that’s the best idea you’ve ever heard.

That’s how it leads to you leaning against him like it’s something you do often, walking in step as you ramble on and on about what you have to do to get your classroom ready for the new school year. He listens without annoyance like most guys would, then tells you about books he has that he thinks you might enjoy, books he could part with so you could give them to the students whose reading levels are above what the school provides.

He’s so caring and considerate, making sure he walks closest to the street, lets you be off in your own world and makes sure you don’t run into anything as you constantly gaze up at him. All the way to your building and up the stairs to your apartment door, the two of you are as comfortable with each other like two old friends would be.

That’s what makes your head spin. You just met Spencer and already feel like he’s been in your life for hundreds of years.

You pull your keys from your purse, you unlock the door but don’t make a move to open it.

“I’m really, really, happy that I met you.” You whisper to him as he slightly crowds your space in the door way.

“I am too.” He agrees, heart beating a little faster as your hand presses gently to his chest.

Don’t be crazy, you just met her, she doesn’t want a stranger trying to kiss her, tell her good night, call her tomorrow, maybe you can plan for something next weekend-

His thoughts don’t stand a chance when you wrap your fingers around his tie and gently tug him to your lips.

It’s smooth and warm and has your eyes shutting and your lungs exhaling. His gentle hand cradles your face while the other flexes against your hip.

It just feels so…

So right.

With the slight tilt of your head, the goodnight kiss deepens, you’re molded against him.

His lips part, coaxing yours to do the same, and the feeling of your tongue against his has you slightly teetering backwards. You lean against the door for support, hands roaming into his hair.

You’ve been wanting to run your hands through it all night.

He’s desperate in his movements, like he’s a starved man and you’re enjoying every second of it. His thumb runs over your jaw, you’re pushing away any space between you.

When you decide you’re going to pass out from the lack of oxygen, you pull away, sucking your bottom lip to savor the taste. Spencer still holds your face in his large hands and matches your shallow pants.

It’s all so much. You’re hot, brain a little foggy, but still so sure of this situation.

And you soon find yourself saying something you’ve never ever said after just meeting a guy.

“Do you want to come inside?”

Spencer seriously thinks he misheard you.

“Yeah- yes. Yes, I do.” He nods.

A laugh escapes your lips, one he swallows up as he embraces you once more, trying to help you open the door. His arm around your waist makes sure you don’t stumble and fall as the two of you finally get inside.

He looks around the space. “I like your apartment, it’s nice.”

“Thank you.” You mumble against his lips, pulling at your jean jacket and tossing it to the couch.

It’s dark, causing you to back into a side table. The both of you laugh, but neither of you bother to reach for the light switch.

You guid him towards your bedroom, pushing him through the ajar door. The open window leaves the room painted in a low light, the breeze is cool as you clumsily fall onto the mattress with him.

“I never do this.” You state, a huff leaving your lips as he rolls you onto your back.

“I don’t either.” He agrees, mouth wandering down your jaw to your neck.

You fiddling hands make a home in his hair. “Like I really don’t do this. I don’t even go to bars, let alone take home strange men- not that you’re strange. But don’t think I am a casual hookup girl, because I’m not, I just- there’s a connection, right? I’m not alone in this?”

He pulls away, looking down at you with a loopy grin. “You’re rambling, that’s a sign of nervousness.”

“I am nervous!” You exclaim with a breathy laugh. “You’re just…you’re really great.”

His thumb traces your bottom lip. “You’re really great too.” He whispers. “But we don’t have to do anything.”

“No!” You say a little too boldly. “I mean, no, no I want this. Do you want this?”

With a nod, he assures you. “I want this too.”

Maybe you should be more shy and self conscious about this, but when he’s being so kind, all your nervousness leaves. The two of you stumble through the awkward bits with laughter and jokes, and it makes you realize that something so serious doesn’t have to be so uniform.

Really, you’re having more fun than you’ve ever had.

“Spencer?” You gasp, dangerously close to falling off the bed at how the two of you have rolled around.

“Yeah?” He asks, head buried in your neck, trying not to get too ahead of himself as he continues his deep pace between your legs.

“You’re kinda pulling my hair.”

Immediately he moves his hand, apologetic.

Hands dragging up his chest, you try to shimmy away from the mattress ledge. Spencer notices the tragedy that’s about to strike, opting to back off of you completely so you can readjust.

You gasp at the loss of contact. “A little warning next time would be appreciated.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He stammers, gripping you in a feverish way, mouth back to yours.

You don’t exactly know how you ended up on top, but you look at him slightly frightened eyes.

“Is this a no?” He questions, only concerned with making you comfortable.

He’s the complete opposite of selfish, he proved that the second he started you off with his tongue against your core.

“No, not if you like this? I just…I don’t know if I’m good at this.”

He nods in understanding. “Okay, no problem.”

You protest as he goes to move you. “Can I try? Will-will you help me?”

God, he could marry you.

“Yeah, of course sweetheart.” He whispers, kissing you gently.

The butterflies in your stomach are all twitter pated.

Or maybe you’re just extremely turned on.

Spencer is a great teacher, it’s you who jumps the gun at things.

“There you go, angel, slow.” He breathes in your ear, finger tips pressing into your hips as you slowly push down, letting his tip enter you. “Just go really slow, okay?”

You try to do as he says, easing him into you slowly, but by some urge to rush satisfaction, you sink all the way onto him without warning.

“Fuck! That wasn’t slow.” He grits, a hoarse moan escaping from the back of his throat, his grip on you almost bruising.

“S-sorry.” You try to say, but the sheer pressure you feel at this sudden angle has you shuddering and crying out softly. “I’m an overachiever.” You try to joke.

“Holy shit, you want an A+ or something?” He chuckles, trying to calm himself down, running through mathematical formulas in his head so he doesn’t finish just like this.

“Spence, I need- it’s a lot, I need-” You whine out, not having the heart to feel embarrassed for sounding so needy.

“I know, I know. Fuck, do you have any idea how good you feel?” He questions, swallowing hard as he guides your hips forward slightly.

“I can’t really think at all when you’re sitting in my cervix right now.” You claim, quickly overwhelmed by pleasure as you find a rhythm against him.

Sucking on your throat, he mutters something you don’t care to listen to.

“This is- is it supposed to be this good?” You moan, trying not to dig your finger nails into his shoulders.

“I think we just fit perfectly.”

With each movement, you become more comfortable and confident, soon that friendly softness is replaced by lustful roughness. Through it all, Spencer remains caring, even when you tell him he can be a little rough with you.

Never in your sex life have you wanted more and more, even when it finishes.

Even after the two of you can’t find the strength to pull any more orgasms from each other, you lay beside each other, Spencer hasn’t bothered to pull out of you yet, perhaps he’s too spent.

“So.” You clear your throat, tracing his features. “How do you want to play this?”

He hums, dragging his fingers up and down your side. “What do you mean?”

“Guys usually leave after this stuff, right?”

His brows furrow, anxiety comes to ripple through him. “Do you want me to leave?”

Staring at his tired eyes, you shake your head. “No, I want you to stay. Forever. I’m thinking about chaining you to the headboard.”

He chuckles. “I’ll save you the effort, I will gladly stay.”

A sweet smile is returned to him.

At some point, the two of you clean up and fall asleep the second the sheets are pulled over you.

Spencer is convinced it’s all a dream until he wakes up to the sun warm over his skin. He rubs his blurry eyes and rolls over in the bed that is not his, met with your bare back. Slowly, he reaches for you, kissing your shoulder to rouse you.

His phone, still in the pocket of his discarded pants, rings again and again, forcing him to retrieve it in his boxers.

Of course it’s Hotch.

Of course he needs to get to the office. On a Saturday. After the night he just had.

“I should call the authorities, there’s a cute intruder in my room.” Your sleepy voice says from bed. “Oh wait…you are the authorities.”

He likes the way you can make yourself giggle.

“I have bad news.” He says, tracking down his clothes. “My boss just called me in.”

He hates the frown you have.

“That’s a very unfortunate thing.” You nod.

He buttons his pants, then slides his shirt on as he comes to your bedside.

“I should get going so I can go home and change.”

His warm hand presses to your cheek.

You turn to kiss his palm. “Is this goodbye?”

“No. Definitely no.” He assures. “I’ll call when I can, okay? Maybe we can get dinner or something?”

You could sigh heavenly at the way he’s just so dreamy.

“That sounds nice. I’d kiss you but I might have morning breath.” You smile.

He kisses you anyway.

And after leaving the team waiting in the round table room, he appears refreshed and in a very good mood.

He takes his seat, all eyes on him.

“Sorry I’m late, good morning.” He clears his throat.

“Good morning indeed.” Morgan chuckles, sliding him a cup of coffee.

“You okay, Reid?” Rossi asks, eyeing the agent.

“I’m great.” He smiles.

“Is that a hickey?” JJ exclaims, reveling in the way he quickly grabs for his neck, only to realize she’s joking.

“Real mature.” He mutters, knowing the entire day is going to be jokes made at his expense.

He doesn’t mind though, not when he knows his reward for all of this is you.

[nanenna]

Jeez Louise This is a Mess

Sleepy King (Nenna edition) Master Post

Apologies in advance, I'm not very familiar with John Constantine, trying to do anything from his perspective is definitely an unwise decision. I have chosen it anyway. He's almost definitely OOC.

---

John watched the Fentons and the mayor just saunter through the brand new hole in the mayor’s wall like this was just a normal Friday for them. Considering how weird the town was as a whole, it probably was. And he meant that by the old meaning of the word and as literal as one could possibly interpret it. He’d never been anywhere where the veil was so thin over such a large area, with æther so thick in the air of course it was affecting the locals. Probably had something to do with whoever or whatever had cloaked the whole town.

John turned to Tall Dark and Broody, “So, what happened to all the bugs and trackers you put on them originally?”

Batsy frowned, “Danny’s are still in the Fenton residence, expected since he clearly changed his clothes. His parents’ trackers and bugs all went offline not long after arriving home, the ones I placed inside the residence are malfunctioning.”

“And that’s not the least bit suspicious?” John asked.

“It’s incredibly suspicious,” Batsy said with a completely straight face before turning and also walking right out the brand new hole. “I suggest you actually use the comm I gave you earlier, they’re explaining the situation to Masters.”

Unfortunately Mr. Gargles Gravel for Breakfast had a point, John sighed and did put in the comm, though he knew it would be spotty with the use of magic to follow the group. Batsy and Wonder Woman could follow however they liked, John did not have the energy for that.

The comms were staticky, cutting in and out even without John’s abuse of the thin veil to quick step around town. Not surprising, the amount of pure death magic radiating off the two dead-alive people in that tank would be enough to mess with most electronics even if the veil weren’t practically non-existent.

“Somehow this place feels cozy,” Boston commented as he followed John.

“You would think so.”

The conversation on the comm was getting worse, the bugs were clearly slowly giving up the ghost. John only caught a few words here and there, and those were only because they were Ghost Speak, something that shouldn’t be possible for flesh and blood mouths to speak. It’s just bits and pieces, names and titles mostly, but if he’s understanding this right…

“Huh, that may change the situation a bit.”

“What are you going on about?” Boston asked.

“It sounds like Pariah isn’t the Ghost King anymore. But Batsy’s bugs are losing the war against æther, so when we get there you’re gonna need to go spy on them.”

“Will that work?”

“Try to keep out of sight, but even if you get caught the worst they’ll do is kick you out. Undead solidarity.”

Boston grumbled, but when John met back up with Batsy and Wonder Woman staring through a window right to where the group was talking, Boston did as he was asked and slipped right through the wall and inside. John cast a quick spell to spy through Boston.

Boston floated slowly into the room, seemingly becoming braver as the Fentons looked right past him without reacting. Unfortunately, he got a little too close to the one person in the room that could definitely see him. The kid jumped out of his seat in surprise.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” The kid whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at Boston. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

“Oh, you can see me? And ghost sense?”

“You don't know who I am?”

“Uh… Daniel Fenton?”

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

“Then what do they call you?”

“How about you tell me your name first?”

“I’m Deadman.”

The kid burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?” The sister asked.

“Huh?” The kid looked to his older sister, then back to Boston. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

The Fentons all shook their heads.

The creepy mayor came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

“I’m Deadman and I’m uh… lost?”

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” the kid added. He turned back to Boston, “Are you even a ghost?”

Batman, who’d spent the last few minutes getting into the perfect position while he waited for the most dramatic moment chose then to crash through the window. John started cursing as he rushed to climb in after the loon, already prepping a spell. The moment he had a clear line of sight he shot off the revelation spell at the kid.

It did… well not much.

Really about all it did was give the kid a couple extra accessories. He expected them, but he also expected it to somehow reveal the kid’s undead status too. Make him look all glowy and ghostly like he had when he’d first arrived last night, because John was pretty sure the kid hadn’t been kidnapped after all. Or at least not how they originally assumed, he was pretty sure some spirits considered an unwilling summons a kidnapping.

Still, there the crown was. Just floating over the kid’s head, toxic green æther flames around it like a death energy aurora. And like any teenager the kid seemed completely oblivious, having to be told the crown was even there. Once he got a hand on it though he said something odd, “Okay, crown retrieved.”

John just tucked his hands in his pockets, waiting to see what they were doing. Why did they think they needed to find the crown?

“We may have a problem,” The creepy mayor said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” The kid looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in the creeper’s. “Why are there two?”

And, well, John agreed. Why the fuck were there two? He already started muttering an identification spell as the kid turned to him.

“What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything,” John protested, “that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” The kid’s mom said while glaring at the him.

Of course things got dicey after that, the kid and the creepy mayor got into a fight over the second crown, things turned into a right mess, and John was quite content to let them squabble among themselves. He moved to go stand next to Batsy and Wonder Woman, Boston with him, waiting to see how this went.

Of course the tussle then turned into fighting over the ring on the kid’s finger, still blaming John for just revealing the crown and ring the kid had apparently had this whole time.

“Alright, that’s enough. Shut up!” John may have put a bit of intent into that, and it worked beautifully. The whole group stopped and stared at him, finally shutting up. The parents managed to get between the kid and the creeper, each one still with one of the crowns.

The crowns he now knew were both, somehow, legitimate.

John pointed at the kid, “Just call the crown, it’ll listen.”

The kid gave him a disbelieving look. “Oh sure, I’ll just,” he hunched forward a little bit, clapped his hands, and whistled like he was calling a dog, “here Crowny, Crowny, Crowny.”

For a brief moment nothing happened, then the creeper mayor jerked forward as the crown yanked itself from his hand. It went to go join the other crown floating over the kid’s head, one of them grew wider so the other could nestle inside it, both spinning in place but in opposite directions.

Everyone was staring at the display.

“What uh… what are they doing?” The kid asked nervously.

“They… like each other?” The sister asked skeptically.

“Great, wonderful, fabulous, just what I need in my life.” The kid sighed and turned to glare at John. “What. Did. You. DO?!”

“I didn’t do shit,” John replied, much to the parents’ combined horror. “Looks like somehow they’re both legit, my best guess is one of them isn’t from this timeline.”

“Oh,” the sister said, grabbing everyone’s attention. “The Nasty Burger explosion happened after the fight with the king, right?”

“The what?” the kid’s parents asked.

“Oh,” the kid responded, “I’m starting to see why the council of eyeballs hates my guts.”

And wasn’t that a concerning sentence. John desperately needed a drink, thankfully he had a flask on him and chose that moment to take a swig. “Alright, so there should be a second ring too, no point leaving that on Dark’s finger in case he gets out again.”

“Vlad did it,” the kid said while pointing at the creeper.

“Excuse me!” Creeper actually put a hand to his neck, like some fainting Victorian lady.

“Vlad tried to steal the ring and crown, so he let Dark out of the sarcophagus and I had to go clean up his mess, like always.” The kid glared at the creeper, it was starting to paint a really concerning picture.

“I’m sure Vladdie was just trying to keep these powerful artifacts safe,” the kid’s dad said loudly and happily. Yeah, there was the concerning picture again.

“I’d believe it if all he took was the ring, but the crown was safely sealed away with Pariah and he let the guy out to steal it.”

“Just call the ring,” John said gruffly.

“Here Ragey, Ragey, Ragey.” The kid whistled and clapped his hands again. The ring showing up on the kid’s other hand was expected, the glowing green hell hound that came sprinting through the wall and practically tackled the kid wasn’t. “Cujo! Hi! Who’s a good puppy?!”

Keeriest, John needed a stiffer drink.

[biancadoes1]

This is not really an ask. But I was reading an older article today about Nic when she first tried on the intimacy wear at home in front of her mirror & thought “Absolutely not. How am I going to do this.” Then proceeded to hide it in the bottom of her laundry basket.

It reminded me of the way she talked about how terrified she felt in the lead up to their first kiss, to the point she had a stress rash. Gives an insight into how big of a deal all of this was for her. Scary even. How vulnerable she felt. (I mean who wouldn’t!) Then the things she says about Luke - he’s so supportive, he never made her feel judged, he made her feel safe, he is just a joy to be around, she can’t imagine doing this with anybody else, what was originally terrifying turned out to be some of her favourite days, the whole experience is just so special and not something they can explain to anyone else, how they have amazing communication - anything they were unsure or nervous about they could just talk about it.

I think because we mostly see the fun & flirty side of them, it’s easy to forget sometimes just how much their bond and that comfort and closeness they have with each other was very much earned. There is a real strength and depth to their relationship. Like she says, they really went on a journey together… she always really liked him but now she has a real love for him.

The way they make each other feel seen, safe and supported (wether that be on red carpets or on set) is such a beautiful and special thing. I think about the strongest relationships in my own life and it’s the ones where I’ve been the most vulnerable, where they’ve seen me at my most unguarded. The ones that have seen me through the hard stuff and that make the difficult & scary parts of life more bearable.

I guess this is just a reminder that the love we see they have for each other is very real just like N says it is. They laughed and joked a lot on the world tour about how much they enjoyed it & I don’t doubt that for a second and I love that light, fun, cheeky side to their relationship. But just like Pen & Colin, there’s history there for Luke & Nic… one that is very hard to compete with. There were some very real fears, struggles and growth that they bore witness to & supported each other through to get to this point. It’s not surprising that their relationship is not like any other relationship she has. She said towards the end it became effortless for them. They clearly adore and respect each other deeply. I do not think it would be easy for another partner to compete with that kind of earned ease and trust. Or for L & N to not be drawn back to the safety of each others arms. I think they are home to each other and I think they are reminded of that every day they are together and apart.

❤️❤️❤️

[korrasera]

Unfortunately, this post and posts like it misunderstand what it means to say that the Democrats abandoned the working class.

Because they did.

And no, the working class didn't abandon the Democrats.

I'll explain.

First, the list of the accomplishments of the Biden administration is a long one and it's absolutely true they weren't getting the coverage they deserved. That's a true point, and a good one, but it's not not how the Democrats abandoned the working class.

Next, the working class didn't abandon the Democrats. The working class voters that always vote Republican voted Republican because voters don't switch sides and they weren't up for grabs, no matter what a Democrat strategist thought.

Of the working class voters that vote Democrat, they didn't abandon the Democrats, the Democrats took them for granted and didn't give them a reason to vote to support Harris. And it is very important to give people a reason to vote.

Some didn't vote because they wouldn't vote for a woman, because bigotry is everywhere.

Some people didn't vote because support for an incumbent party drops when the economy is doing poorly. Despite the Biden administration giving us a soft landing that avoided a recession, income inequality is up globally and for the average person, that means the economy sucks right now.

But that's not how the Democrats abandoned the working class either.

The Democrats abandoned the working class because they squandered the initial surge of enthusiasm for Harris's announcement by following it up with:

A campaign that focused on Trump's threat.

An emphasis on trying to court Republican voters.

Basically no real messaging about what the Democrats would do to try to help the working class voters survive right now.

They didn't talk about the minimum wage or support for unions. Even with the Biden administrations support of unions, which was surprisingly good for a US presidential administration.

It was great to finally hear someone say that Trump and JD Vance were weird, but that's just an appetizer. It's not the entire meal.

Do you see what's missing? Democrats can't win on the idea that the other guy is a threat. They need to run on the things they can do to make everything better. And they need to do so with specifics, not aspirational messaging.

Harris's speeches talked about the need to cut taxes for the middle class, but didn't get into specifics. She didn't talk about solid policy positions. The Democrats weren't giving any answers on what to do about the next Trump or the next Bezos or the oligarch that decides they want half of everyone's paycheck.

They didn't talk about how they were going to take the boot off our necks.

In hindsight, some of this should have been easy:

"Vote for me and I will eliminate student debt!" "Vote for me and I will make the minimum wage a livable wage!" "Vote for me and I will stop evictions and fix housing!"

Even if they weren't going to keep those promises, talking about them with specific plans is what people needed to hear and it's exactly what people didn't.

And while they weren't talking to the working class Democrats and their needs, they were going after wealthy donors and Republican voters, which made those working class voters feel like the Democrats were taking them for granted.

After all, why do you need to speak to someone's needs if you know that they're going to vote for you? You're their only option, right? Makes sense when you think like a Republican, but people who vote Democrat do so because they don't think like Republicans. The Republicans follow the leader while the Democrats build coalitions.

Finally, if anti-trans ads were a pivotal factor in Harris's loss, then you would have seen Trump's support increase. It didn't. He stayed flat, the Republican base supported him just like they were always going to. He was always going to be able to use fear and bigotry to motivate them.

Don't get me wrong, Trump is absolutely trying to stoke a full blown moral panic against trans people. And his hateful message galvanized his base. But if it hadn't been us it would have been immigrants. Or another kind of queer folk. Or socialists. They will never want for an enemy because they're afraid of literally everyone not like themselves.

The Harris campaign failed because the Democrats played bad politics when they needed to bring their A game.

They needed to give Democrat voters real answers about real help. They needed to give people a reason to vote. And they didn't.

dropping this here

[levandright]

i need a jay x reader (can be anything really, fic/drabble/hc whatever is easiest) where he's courting the reader the filipino way to win her heart 😍 fluff plz. also please please please, add a part where he's singing us a song he wrote for us if yk what i mean ;)

THANK KEW IN ADVANCE LEV IF U MAKE IT<3 hope ur having a good day and don't forget to take care of urself pooks 💜

JAY — COURTING YOU

pairings : jay x f!reader 🎀 content / warning(s) : fluff, courting/harana, jay is a absolute gentleman, fluff, non-idol au 🎀 word count : 0.5k ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : took me a while to do this cause my brain was out of creativity >.> hope you like this mootie <3

you and jay met through a mutual friend, and since that first encounter, he's been completely smitten with you.

the two of you hit it off from the start, and jay, with his growing and intense feelings for you day by day, confesses to you during a party hosted by your mutual friend.

you didn’t reject him; instead, you explained how you were unsure of your feelings. you knew him well enough to see he was a great guy—you just weren’t sure if you felt the same way yet.

he asks if you’ll let him court you, to win your heart through his efforts. with no complaints, you agree to this arrangement.

he makes a lasting impression the very next day, showing up at your door with a bouquet of roses in hand, asking if you’d like to join him for a date.

he takes you to a museum, where you stroll around the exhibits together, allowing him to get to know you even more deeply. afterward, he drives you home safely, the evening ending on a warm note.

that’s how the two of you fall into a routine: jay arrives at your door, taking you out on casual yet romantic dates, each outing another step in truly knowing each other.

two months pass by in a blur of shared moments and growing warmth between you. then, one fateful night, you receive a text from him, asking you to look out your window. you do just that, and there he is—your jay, standing in your front yard, guitar in hand, surrounded by flowers scattered all around, creating a scene so romantic you’ve only seen in movies.

as he strums his guitar and sings to you, butterflies erupt in your stomach, intensifying with every note. when he finishes, you head downstairs, to finally answer him.

he stands there bashfully, with his hands fidgetting behind him, waiting for you to say something. you give him a cheeky grin as you finally say what he's been wanting for you to say.

"i've gotta admit, you know how to make a girl feel special," you say, smiling. "i tried to take things slow, but you’ve completely won me over, jay. i’d be crazy not to want to be with you. so… consider this my 'yes.' you're officially my boyfriend."

jay’s eyes light up the moment he hears your answer, his smile widening as relief and happiness wash over his face.

without missing a beat, he closes the space between you, his voice soft but filled with excitement, "you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear that," he says, a hint of laughter breaking through. "i promise, i’ll make you happier than you can imagine."

in one smooth motion, he pulls you into a gentle hug, holding you as if to make sure this moment is real, whispering, "thank you for giving me a chance… for letting me be yours."

as he pulls back just enough to look at you, there’s that familiar spark in his eyes, and with a teasing smile, he adds, "guess that makes me officially your boyfriend now, huh?"

you roll your eyes playfully at him as he repeats what you just said "yes, yes. you're now my boyfriend officially."

perm taglist.@honeybelleee @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone (open!) requests. open!

©levandright

[sibylsleaves]

The Billy Boils Breakup Anthem

rated G | 2.4k | read on ao3 “Buck thinks that dead cowboy corpse cursed him,” Eddie explains. “But I keep telling him he’s having a stress reaction.” “A stress reaction to being cursed!” Buck exclaims, turning to Chim and Hen. “Listen, this is real, okay? I did some research—Billy Boils was a real life outlaw, and he was double-crossed by his posse and left for dead. And then every single member of his posse died horrible, untimely deaths. Every single one of them! And now I’m doing to die, and I’m going to die alone just like Billy Boils!” Buck gets dumped. Then he gets cursed.

It really is just Buck’s rotten luck that he would get dumped and then cursed in the same week.

The Firehouse Haunt Fest has been such a good distraction, too. Instead of moping around and wondering what is it about him that makes both men and women want to flee, Buck had poured all his energy into making the fire station the spookiest, scariest haunted house in the city.

He should’ve known it would backfire.

“Hey, so, doc says you should be able to come back to work next shift,” Eddie says, taking his seat at Buck’s bedside. “That’s good news, right?”

“For the moment,” Buck grumbles.

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Eddie,” Buck says emphatically. “Come on. I ripped the arm off that—that cowboy corpse and then on our very next call, my arm gets popped out of its socket. The same arm. Don’t you see what’s going on here?”

Eddie blows out a breath. “If you’re about to say what I think you’re gonna say—”

“It’s a curse!”

Eddie slaps his magazine down, craning his head back toward the ceiling. “Please, please do not start with this curse stuff.”

“Eddie, you heard what Athena said on the phone! The novelty shop burned down, the carnival was wiped out by a hurricane, and the rodeo ended after a stampede! That can’t all just be a coincidence.”

“Actually I’m pretty sure it can.”

“No way. This is all his doing—Billy Boils. I’m telling you—once he gets you in his sights…he finishes the job.”

Eddie snorts.

There’s a very short list of things that annoy Buck about Eddie. At the top of that list: his obstinate refusal to believe in curses even when they’re clearly happening right in front of his face.

(continue on ao3)

[kanasbinwriting]

Hello! Could you possibly write a Sol x gn reader where the reader calls Sol and tells him to come inside and cuddle with them because they've been tired mentally and emotionally and just want to be held? And that they actually know that he's been sneaking in their apartment but they don't really care and actually they find it a little cute

Also I'm sorry if this sounds awkward, I don't know how to words things properly 😅

SOL X READER

Thank you so much for your request ^^ I really enjoyed writing this!! I hope I did an okay job

Fun fact, I'm actually working on making a Sol figure out of clay 💪

Anyway, enjoy!!

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It was dark outside; nothing could be heard but the wind rustling through the leaves and the occasional hum of cars driving by. You felt tired, but no matter how hard you tried to fall asleep, nothing worked—the stress consuming you whole.

You sat up on your bed, trying some breathing exercises you saw online to calm your racing mind, but to no success. Your mind was occupied with all sorts of things that caused you a great immense of stress and you couldn't help but feel emotionally drained as a result. Oh, to have someone hold you close right now. You let out a small whine as you rubbed your eyes. You glanced over at your phone charging on the bedside table, thinking to yourself. Sol, wouldn't mind if you called him, right? You picked up your phone and checked the time. Sol should be on his way right now. But waiting for him would be a bit awkward, you doubted that he'd even go near your window if he saw that you were still awake. You looked to your bedside table once more, where a glass of orange juice stood untouched, waiting for you to take a sip. You could just drink it and let the sleeping pills do their work, or at least that's what you think that he'd put in your drink to ensure you'd be sound asleep around the time he arrived for his nightly visits.

With a deep sigh, you decided to not drug yourself tonight. Maybe you could just give him a call. It wouldn't come off as weird, right? In all defence, he was the one breaking into your apartment every night. If anyone was weird then it was definitely him and not you for calling him at this ungodly hour. You tapped on his contact and raised your phone to your ear, calling him. No answer. Was he asleep? No way. He wouldn't be. You looked at your phone in disbelief and tried it again after a few seconds. You stood up from your bed and made your way toward the window when he finally picked up.

"H-Hello..?" He greeted you in a hushed tone.

You let out a chuckle.

"Are you serious?" You asked playfully.

"Huh?" Sol replied in complete confusion. "What do you mean...?" his tone shifted nervously, but before he could question further, you cut him off with a smug grin.

"Look up." Now looking down at him from your open window.

He froze and went completely silent, not daring to move a single muscle.

"W-what—"

You hung up and leaned further out the window.

"Why, hello there!" You called, winking unbeknownst to him.

He slowly raised his head to look at you and the look on his face was priceless. You gave him a knowing smile, waiting for him to say something. "I can explain...!" He stammered, raising his hands in defence.

"Can you now?" You settled your chin in your hand, your elbow propped up on your windowsill.

"I-I was... just going for a walk" You looked at him with a bored expression on your face

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." He nodded trying to look confident. He might've convinced you if it weren't for his all-black outfit and mask. With a sigh, you decided to end the senseless interrogation.

"Just come inside."

"What...?!" He exclaimed loudly in bewilderment.

"You... want me to come inside?"

"That's what I said, yes."

You walked away from your window and sat on your bed. It took Sol a few seconds to process what had just happened. He pinched his cheek to confirm he wasn't dreaming. Upon realising that it was, in fact, real, he quickly but carefully climbed to your apartment. As he slipped in through your window, making sure to close the window, he now stood before you, his face flushed crimson red. You let out a yawn and made yourself comfortable on your bed to which his breath slightly stutters."Can we cuddle?"

"What...?" he stammered, looking taken aback. "I said, can we cuddle?" You repeated, motioning for him to join you. He hesitated for a moment before muttering a quiet "Fuck it..." before walking toward you. He awkwardly tried to make himself comfortable next to you, keeping his arms close to himself, too nervous to touch you. His whole body tensed when you, without warning, wrapped your arms around him snuggling your head against his neck. Inhaling his scent, you let out a contented sigh. He lets you wrap your limbs around him, sensing that there's something wrong. He began to ease up in your embrace, wrapping his arms around you and began to gently stroke your head.

"Thank you..." You whispered quietly against his neck and he felt a shudder run down his spine. "No problem..." He whispered back, as a lovesick expression appeared on his face. Not paying him any mind you closed your eyes and slowly began to drift off to sleep in his his embrace.

[sapphire-weapon]

god this is such a braindead fucking take and is emblematic of everything that's wrong with radical lefties.

there's a golden rule: "don't attribute to malice what can be explained by incompetence."

OP is assuming that everyone in society is operating under the same baseline of education and social understanding -- that all people are aware of underlying social power structures and also understand them with deep nuance.

but that's not true. especially with the way that the US education system has been gutted ever since the reagan administration.

OP is also conflating the end result with the cause.

men aren't going into society being conditioned to want to own women. men are going into society being conditioned to want to be successful -- and when they're not successful, for whatever reason, the left still stands back and says "shut up men, you already have everything you could ever need, you're already successful, you've been successful" even though his personal experience and bank account and rising debt and miserable job and shitty love life all run directly counter to that narrative. then the redpill community swoops in and goes "hey lil bro, i know you're hurting, let me tell you why and who's standing in your way."

it's the simple fucking math of the left saying "your pain isn't real" and the right saying "your pain is real, and i want to help it hurt less."

the left's problem is that they write off lived experience and only focus on systemic imbalances. but just because the systems are inherently unfair and stacked in one group's favor does not mean that all -- or even most -- of that group actually benefits from it. and when we constantly tell men -- who are going through the same kind of hardships as women and transpeople in terms of economic instability, health issues, mental health issues, possibly abusive families, etc. -- that they're fine and are, in fact, the problem, you lose those people.

it's kind of crazy that we've somehow lost the plot on the simple fact that, when people are disenfranchised, they form communities and get support from those communities. and by pushing men away from the left, their supportive community becomes redpill fuckheads like andrew tate and sneako and fresh n fit.

if the left is serious about building a big tent coalition, they need to reach out to men. we should want men to be on our side -- to understand why the power structures currently in place are stacked and unfair and should be dismantled.

it's a lot easier to disrupt or reform a system when the people currently holding it in place are on your side. this is politics 101, people.

the takeaway from this election shouldn't be to dig in deeper and double down. it should be to find ways to turn the enemy's tactics against them and snatch people away from their ideology.

On the topic of Leftist Andrew Tate and other mythical creatures of the liberal mind

[wisteria-lodge]

do you think lucius only realize he don't want to be a death eater after voldemort was defeated in the 1st war or even during it?

speaking of what are your thoughts/hc on why narcissa didn't take the dark mark despite her sister and her husband doing it? tbh i always wondered how she could've avoided it? i mean she was part of it right, she was in the meetings too

I always thought it made sense that Draco was a difficult pregnancy.

I say that because Lucius and Narcissa seem like the sort of couple who would have loved more children. Narcissa was close with her sisters before things fell apart, and Lucius was an only child... but he's so social I think that must have been lonely for him. I think he would have loved it if Draco had a younger brother or sister. And the only barrier they'd be dealing with there would be a medical one, so.

(also, I love whenever the the Malfoys and the Weasleys are foils, and the idea of Draco and Ron being born at pretty much the same time - but Ron is one of many, a little neglected, mom is a little disappointed he's not a girl etc. while DRACO is so wanted and so special. That's good stuff.)

I also think that if the Malfoys were dealing with fertility issues, Narcissa suffering, maybe even having a miscarriage - that would have made early-twenties Lucius grow up REAL fast. Because yeah, I do think that when Draco was born - about a year before Voldemort's downfall - Lucius' priorities shifted completely, and he started looking for a way out.

And I say that because Lucius rode the wave of the first war really well, coming out with his money and prestige so intact, which would have taken some planning. Lucius is also one of very few Death Eaters who actually got off using the 'imperius curse' defense. (I think the only other one is Avery.) I like the idea that he did actually plan that. Like - okay. You could have someone you trust (Narcissa, maybe Severus) put the imperius curse on you for a couple months, and that way when you're asked "Were you directed to follow Voldemort's orders under the imperius curse," you can say yes, even if you're under Veritaserum.

(Nott senior also seems to have also come out of the first war basically unscathed, but he also seems much more cautious than Lucius. I'll bet he was very good at making sure that there was never much actual evidence against him. Crabbe and Goyle senior also seem to be doing fine, and I tend to think it's because Lucius got them out (possibly because their wives were close with Narcissa? All three women would have been pregnant at the same time.) Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle are *quite* committed to keeping Draco Malfoy in one piece. I love Draco, but he does spend several books being a little shit with no ability to defend himself, so they do have their work cut out for them.

I also think a Narcissa who spent the first Voldemort war dealing with pregnancy-related health issues could explain why she doesn't have a Dark Mark, when honestly she really should. Her husband, sister, brother-in-law, underage cousin... they're all getting them. So why was Narcissa skipped (but still allowed to remain in good standing?) I think she she stayed out of the spotlight, using her delicate health as an excuse. And then the second war comes around and she... fades to the background again, makes herself useful, and hopes that the issue never comes up. I don't think she'd say no to a confundus, or even a memory charm if she were really put on the spot.

(but the real, Doylist reason Narcissa doesn't have a Dark Mark is because JKR has a very strong aversion to writing villainous mothers. See: the very odd framing of Merope Gaunt.)

[skulla-rxcks]

“can you do one of Lee know being your best friend and you live in America and when the boys were in America for tour they all spent the week with you. You had feelings for Lee know and you didn't know he had feelings for you too. One day he happened to see your phone when you went to the bathroom and read the really spicy fan fics about him that you were reading about him. He liked you too but decided to tease you and when the moment hit he decided to reenact one of the stories about him that was on your phone. I hope you get what I mean lol hard to explain. Please and thank you”

- Wattpad request

Fanfiction

Paring: Lee know x afab reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: slut shaming, he catches you reading about him, unprotected, vaginal. Piv

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

“What are you doing?”

“Just reading..” I say with a flustered face, my cheeks turning redder by the second as I continue reading the filth about my best friend on my phone, I wonder how he’d react if he found out? I wonder how he’d react if he found out I was in love with him? Maybe he’s already read fan fiction about himself, if I was a hot ass idol I’d be curious what people are writing about me too.

“‘m gonna order food. what do you want?” Minho asks me, waiting for my response.

“tacos.” I smile, looking up from my phone from a second seeing him nod his head in response. “How much does it cost?”

“Not a problem, don’t worry I can pay.” i smile at his response about paying for me. He says taking his cell phone from his pants pocket and placing it down, opening an app and ordering the food I requested. “you wanna order anything else or are you done?” I shake my head. “Good.” He says sitting back down, relatively far away but not too far, the other side of the room basically.

I Go back and look at my phone, continuing to read, my thighs pressing together as I attempt to release tension as a smutty sex scene shows up in the fan fiction I’m reading.

Thank god he’s not near by, I’m not doing anything really but maybe he’ll notice my flushed state? I’m not sure. my hearts beating fast and I feel myself get needier and wetter by the second. My thighs and underwear now sticky with my arousel as a result of my thoughts combined with what I’m reading.

I hear footsteps and our doorbell seeing him walk to the door which is on the other side of the house, I secretly put my hand down my shorts and rub myself quickly, making sure to relax my crotch hopefully before he comes back.

Fuck! I sigh as I hear his footsteps coming back. I run into the bathroom to finish.

I shut the door and sit down on the toilet seat, frantically searching my pockets for my phone so I have ‘material’ to touch myself with. And that’s when I realise I forgot it.

I open the door and go to retrieve my phone but what I see makes me shiver nervously. He’s on my phone looking at what I was reading, his eyes following every word. Fucking hell, I’m dead; I’m fucking dead! I go back out into the living room, acting cool as if I don’t know what was on my phone.

“So reading about me? Whore.” He teases, laughing at me, looking up at me and smirking. “Excuse me?”

“Bet you’d like me to sleep with you if you’re reading about it.” Minho exclaims. I don’t respond, my flushed face is enough to speak for me. He steps closer to me, turning my phone off and putting it on the floor, he pushes me against the wall and kisses me passionately. “I want you..” I mumble, pulling him closer towards me. “I know.” He grins and takes my hand; pushing me down onto the couch next to the wall. “Slut. Reading about me.”

“‘M sorry.. please treat me as you wish” I pout, looking as his hands start prying my clothes off. He continues until I’m completely naked before him. Doing the same for himself. “As I wish?” He grins and spreads my legs open before thrusting inside of me. “Fuck!” I cry out in pleasure my head and eyes rolling back as the room fills with my moans. “tight.. would’ve never expected a slut like you to be this tight.” he groans, picking up his thrusts. “f-fuck you..”

“that’s what I’m doing.” He growls, each thrust inside me hitting that special spot.

“aww.. is this slutty girl gonna cum?” he laughs, prying my mouth open with two fingers before spitting in it and slapping my face. “mmph.. yes..” I whimper out, disappointed how much being called a slut is turning me on by one of my friends.

“good.” he sighs into my ear, picking up his pace; cumming inside me as he feels my cunt tighten around him.

“that’s what you get for thinking like a slut and reading dirty things about me.” Minho chuckles

[seimsisk]

what. no. why are you even saying that?

come on. "transandrophobia exists" merely means "transmascs suffer specific things that neither trans women nor cis men suffer". in fact one of the things transmascs suffer is this stereotype of being confused, easily misled people (usually "confused girls" is the term) - which you are perpetuating right now. you are literally using a common stereotype against transmascs to defend the point that you don't have a specific prejudice against transmascs.

trans women are not oppressing trans men obviously, and are also not all prejudiced against trans men, but that doesn't mean that all that trans men suffer is just a lesser version of what trans women suffer. there's no point in analyzing the parts of the words, transandrophobia is NOT a combination of transphobia and misandry, it's merely "the specific way transphobia affects trans men and transmascs". the existence of transandrophobia doesn't imply anything about "all men". I have never heard anyone seriously defend transmascs suffer "misandry", in fact I have seen people argue that transandrophobia is a peculiar combination of transphobia and misogyny. because you know, just because we know we aren't women doesn't stop cis people from treating us like we are. it's different from suffering misogyny because you are an actual woman, but it's still a real thing.

like seriously ofc trans men can be misogynists. and trans women reacting to that, and getting shit in return, could explain some (maybe even most idk) of the mutual aggression we are seeing rn. but some of it is this BS you are doing which is just dismissing completely the possibility that maybe you don't know everything about being a trans men and maybe we go through some shit that you don't.

the word transandrophobia is not an attack on trans women.

[walking confidently into a live minefield] I can't say for sure how we reached the point where "trans women everywhere (read as: everywhere online) oppress/hate/are secretly plotting the downfall of trans men" is a thing that people think is both true and reasonable to believe, but I think at least one factor is a stupid vicious cycle of bad actors and gullible bystanders where, like. you have some guys engaging in shitty misogynistic behavior > some women either try to explain why this behavior is shitty and misogynistic (to no avail) or just disengage entirely > instead of learning from this, the guys act all wounded about it > outside observers who don't have a great grasp on the situation (or maybe don't have great grasp on how misogyny functions in general, or think that only cis men can engage in misogynistic behaviors, or have some kind of unconscious hang-up against trans women) see this and think aw man, these poor dudes are getting ragged on for no reason! > people who weren't necessarily doing the original shitty misogynistic behavior are falsely pointing the finger at trans women for "starting shit" > this is obviously fucking irritating, and no one has an infinite well of patience, so after calmly defending themselves however many times, some of these ladies are just gonna start telling bad-faith jokers to fuck off > shitty dudes and gullible bystanders go "see, they're doing it again! those man-hating harpies!" > women continue to be irritated and (understandably) defensive, tell bad-faith jokers to fuck off > and so on and so forth.

and to be clear "vicious cycle" does not mean "oh well really it's everyone's fault for being involved in the whole mess." I think there's a pretty clear cause and effect here where if you're dismissive of women's voices and viewpoints, and hold them to unfair standards, and just generally aren't very nice, they might not be very nice to you in return. and why should they be!

[ciceroprofacto]

we need to collectively start shaming people for talking about anything related to economics a LOT more. if someone starts talking about inflation, ask them to explain what that is. interest rates- who controls that- more importantly, how? to what end? what are tariffs supposed to do? how do labor and wages effect supply and demand? what is a market? a job market??

literally no one actually knows anything they’re talking about AT ALL, and if someone’s telling you they can accurately predict what’s going to happen they’re plain lying. real experts will admit there are major flaws in the data feeding several key models and indicators. even with perfect data collection methods (impossible to achieve), we still wouldn’t be sure of anything. that’s not how economic controls work.

the average person has less than zero economic literacy and I mean less than zero because they’ll insist on talking about it anyway and that shit has a negative impact. when they do it, make them look stupid- ask them to break it down like you’re a child, keep asking for more clarity, go deeper. ask for their sources, ask for their sources sources, ask if they were educated in economics and where and in what focus. Fucking grill them. and when they can’t demonstrate real comprehension, ask them why they’d vote based on something they don’t actually understand.

[monstrousproductions]

One of my favourite things about SFF is the way it lets you take an issue or an idea, and separate it out so you can look at it more closely in isolation. I think I remember Diana Wynne Jones saying something along those lines - that genre fiction gives you enough distance between the idea and yourself so you can walk around it and see it from all angles.

That's one of the things I've really enjoyed about Travelling Light so far. The archive entries are, by necessity, short and limited in scope. We can't summarise the entirety of a culture and all its iterations in a 10 minute audio log! But we can peel off one idea and give ourselves some space to walk around it and ask questions about it.

Like, in Episode 27 where we see the people protesting their landlords in Nimidol. To me, that wasn't an episode that said, "Our world would be better if we lived like this."

It was more a way of inviting further thought and consideration. What would our world look like if we lived like this? What does it mean to use shame to change people's behaviours? What does private landlording look like in this fictional space, and how do you feel about it?

I like as well that the questions some episodes might raise for one listener might not be the same as for another. Some people really resonated with the people in Episode 13 who used explicit legal contracts to navigate social interactions because in the real world, it really sucks to be caught out by unspoken rules nobody's ever explained.

But there's also something to be explored there about trusting people to keep to the social contract, and how their vibes-based government can do its work - and, more broadly, what do we think the work of government actually is.

I don't know, I'm just having a lot of fun with that! It's one of the really nice things about have such a short episode length - we literally don't have time to get into the nitty gritty of everything, which means there's loads more space for you all to bring your own ideas and interpretations. Which, as a show literally built around audience participation and co-creation, feels appropriate!

[theeoriginals]

“It was- not love at first sight, but familiarity. Like, oh, it’s you.” With Klaus or Elijah please! Something to make me feel better while I do this awful assignment 🥲

deep breaths | elijah mikaelson

pairing: elijah mikaelson x reader (no y/n!)

warnings: noneeee this is just sweet

author’s note: i wrote this at work on my phone just now so sorry if it’s not the best <3

The thing is, Elijah Mikaelson has lived many, many lives. He has had so many names, faces, stories, and voices he can hardly remember them all at this point. That, he supposes, is just part of the curse of immortality. Esther likely didn’t think that far ahead out of her grief when she turned them all into monsters. She didn’t think to consider that she wasn’t saving herself anymore loss, she was cursing her children, leading them to damnation and then blaming them for what she did.

Elijah would likely live another thousand years before he was able to fully comprehend all of the tangled, contradictory emotions that came with vampirism. A gift and a curse, like most things.

What he could for certain say was that he’s loved just as much as he’s hated. He would even argue that you can’t possibly know what it means to hate someone unless you loved them before, unless you still loved them. And although he believed that, he was not someone to give second chances often. At least not to anyone besides his siblings— though that was a different beast altogether.

Elijah knew that even if he hated someone, someone else could love that person just as much. He’d seen it often enough, felt betrayal in his gut like a stake to the heart.

Love, in all of its glory, was not often kind to Elijah.

So whenever his siblings found it necessary to tease him for being so uptight and closed off, he did nothing more than roll his eyes, because it was much easier than telling them that he was scared. Truly, deeply, in his ancient bones, he was scared. Not of love itself, but of the continuously growing sense that he would never truly find real love. And perhaps it was entirely too human of him to think that way, and perhaps it made him weak to some, but Elijah knows that his brothers and sisters more than anyone crave love just as much as he does. He knows they feel it just as deeply as he does, that want in their bones that rushed through their blood, the want for someone to just come in and never leave.

It’s hard to find that when you outlive most people. Harder than one might think, even if you fall in love with an immortal being. It’s not just that he’ll outlive most everyone he could fall in love with, either. It’s that every time it seems he’s done it, he’s fallen in love even knowing it won’t last but letting it happen anyway, it doesn’t— it doesn’t fill that void inside of him.

It doesn’t flood his mind and his body, it doesn’t fill him with life, it doesn’t make him want to breathe.

Elijah doesn’t have to breathe, but he wants someone to make him feel like he has to.

For the past thousand years he’s fought and won and lost, and he’s done his best to keep his family alive despite everything they do to drive him insane, despite the fact that they try to kill each other more than anyone else. He has been holding his breath for a thousand years, fighting and fighting and fighting. He wants to exhale.

He can’t explain this to his siblings. They would understand, he knows, but it’s something he’s never said out loud to himself let alone anyone else. Saying it out loud makes it real, and he can’t— he can’t admit it. When you are drowning, when you are holding your breath, you don’t realize you’re drowning for a long time. And the moment that you do, you realize that you can’t breathe and suddenly you’re gasping for air and you’ve all but killed yourself.

Elijah can’t admit that he’s drowning.

He sighs loudly, and it’s not an exhale and it doesn’t lift that weight off of his shoulders. It’s an expression of his annoyance with his siblings, because this far into their collective immortality, all they live for is getting on each other’s nerves.

And here at Rousseau’s is the last place he wants to entertain their petulance. You never know who could be listening, and Elijah really doesn’t want anyone less than favorable to hear about his love life, or lack thereof.

“I wish you’d just bring someone home to meet us at least once!”

“I wish I could go out and have a drink without being harassed by you people,” Elijah says moodily.

Rebekah pushes her bottom lip out in a pout and widens her eyes in a way that has always gotten her anything she wants from anyone ever. Elijah is, in fact, very aware that he and his brothers have worked overtime in making her as ridiculously spoiled and entitled as she is and yet he still manages to be surprised when she behaves like this.

“We aren’t harassing you, Elijah, we want you to be happy. Is that so wrong?”

He sighs again and closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again and fixing them on Rebekah and Klaus. “It’s not wrong. But I don’t know what you expect me to do about my lack of prospects, it’s not like the perfect person can be conjured at whim.”

Klaus lifts a finger and Elijah knows that he’s going to say something ridiculous before he even speaks. The gleam in his eye never bodes well for anyone. “I bet we could find a witch to do just that. We could compile all of your wants and desires in a partner and get a witch to mix it all together for you. Problem solved, Elijah has a soulmate!”

Elijah gives his brother a deadpan look. “Is this witch Victor Frankenstein?”

Rebekah snorts in amusement, and Elijah dutifully ignores it.

“Be creative, Elijah! Open your mind,” Klaus swipes an arm out dramatically, sloshing his drink over the side of his glass, splashing a few drops of bourbon onto Elijah’s suit jacket.

Elijah’s lip curls in distaste and he gives his brother a look of disdain that goes ignored.

“I have an open mind, what I don’t have is an open schedule,”

“You are not as busy as you like to believe,” Rebekah drawls out, finishing off her own drink. “Your life will never change if you don’t go out and do something different! You’ll be stagnant forever, and I do mean forever, brother,”

“I will never be stagnant with your dramatics, Rebekah,”

She rolls her eyes at his avoidant response. “Your love life is stagnant. I don’t even think stagnant is the proper word, it is downright nonexistent. It is extinct.”

“Thank you, Rebekah,”

“Even if you have a sleazy, completely forgettable one night stand, you need to do something. You’re constantly dealing with us, you need to focus on yourself!”

Elijah pours the rest of his bourbon down his throat, barely tasting it as he swallows. “Maybe if you did less idiotic things that I have to deal with I’d have a more active love life. And truly, I’m not sure why I’m being lectured when you two are the furthest thing from romantically successful.”

“I have a child, I’m plenty romantically successful!”

“She was conceived during a drunken one night stand with a werewolf who is now married to someone else.”

“The details don’t matter, I have a child to show for it. I have a father’s wisdom now, you should listen to me!”

Elijah raises an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, I am not part dog and therefore am actually incapable of reproducing much like you thought you were. And considering the trials and tribulations we went through with Hope, I can’t imagine I’d have any better luck in my own venture to fatherhood.”

“You’re being purposefully obtuse,”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Elijah simpers, gesturing to the bartender for another round for them.

“I have a challenge,” Rebekah cuts in before Klaus can continue their bickering, and Elijah narrows his eyes at the determined gleam in her eyes.

“I don’t like this,”

Rebekah dismisses him with a flutter of her fingers. “The next person to walk through that door, I want you to go and talk to them. You don’t have to have a one night stand, you absolute prude, but you need to speak to someone that you’re not related to, and that isn’t trying to kill you.”

“Rebekah—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Just do this one thing for me, for your darling little sister,”

“My darling little sister—”

“Shut up, look! Someone’s walking inside, get ready to go be your charming self,”

Elijah groans and turns to look at the door as it opens and someone walks through. He sighs again, weighted, empty, scared.

When he lifts his gaze, though, he finds a woman. He takes her in— eyes, nose, lips, hair— and thinks beautiful.

The bar is as crowded as ever, no breaks in sight for the bartenders and waiters, and he’s tucked away at a table with Klaus and Rebekah in the back corner because they are particularly antisocial and Klaus really just wanted to use this outing as a way to remind everyone that they are still here, and that New Orleans is still theirs. The exit is across the room, Elijah has not paid much attention to the distance at all, and yet now.

Now, the crowd of people in between him and the door is frozen and endless. Elijah’s standing before he realizes, and it feels like he’s stepping around the people frozen mid-laugh, mid-drink, mid-bite, because the world has stopped just long enough for him to cross the room.

He parts the crowd and stops before her, eyes roaming over her face. Committing it to memory and vowing to keep it there for the rest of his eternal years.

She looks at him with a smile, blinking at him slowly like she’s got all the time in the world. There’s a necklace sitting on her chest that has a familiar blue stone hanging off of it and he inhales sharply.

He thinks vampire, perhaps a coincidence but things rarely are for him and it’s something new to think that she is immortal, too, of course more fragile than an Original but if she’s smart, and he knows that she is, he can feel it, then she’ll last just as long.

“Hi,” She speaks first, and the world starts up again, the noise comes back and people unfreeze. Now that he’s stood here before her, the world can keep spinning, but it had to wait— it just had to wait for him to catch up.

“Hello,” He responds quietly, too quiet for the bar, but she hears it anyway. “I’m Elijah.”

Her smile widens and she says, “I think I knew that already,” and then she tells him her name and Elijah repeats it for himself, and then for her, and then he turns it over in his head a hundred times over so it never gets lost.

She tilts her head slightly, looking up at him. “Were you trying to leave? Am I in your way?”

“No,” He responds quickly, almost rushed. “Not unless you’re leaving, too.”

She seems pleased at his response and the longer he looks in her eyes, he thinks he’s found a new favorite color.

“I’m not leaving,”

Elijah exhales, and the weight is gone, and the void is no more. And he thinks— oh.

There you are.

[tangledbea]

How do you think the events of the movie would have gone if Lance and Eugene were still partners, and Lance took the place of the Stabbington Brothers?

Oh my god, this is such a good question! It immediately set my mind awhirl with possibilities! It couldn't have come at a better time, because I just finished editing the next chapter of BtK last night, and my head's in the Eugene and Lance feels!

Okay, so, first, would this mean that Eugene would double-cross Lance and take the satchel/crown for himself? Or would he be a good friend and help Lance out of that dead end?

In the first scenario, I see it falling back to "No Time Like the Past" rules, where if you fall behind, you get left behind. Lance would understand this, at least on the surface. But the stakes would be much higher, since theft of the crown was a much bigger deal. Also, if Eugene and Lance were still partners, the bounty on Lance's head would match Eugene's. I don't think Lance would give himself up to the guards without a fight, but I don't think he'd want revenge on Eugene, either. This may lead to a second act reunion, at the campsite, rather than Gothel joining forces with him. I can see Lance showing back up as a third wheel after Rapunzel and Eugene's talk about his past and why she stays in the tower, etc. In other words, they just opened up to each other, got vulnerable with each other, she showed him her magic hair, then here comes Lance, putting a jovial divider between them.

Oh! Oh! Okay, so what if Gothel doesn't recruit Lance, but she does tell him about the girl with the magic hair, and then sends him to the campsite with his own assumptions about what's going on? So now Lance thinks this is a ploy to keep Rapunzel chill until it's time to take/use the hair or whatever else. He thinks Flynn is still working a ruse and doesn't realize he's falling for Rapunzel and becoming more and more Eugene as time goes on. He might feel put out if he thought Flynn was trying to keep the big prize for himself, especially after also taking the crown. And if Eugene starts to explain the situation, Lance would think it's the long game to get the satchel back, and Eugene wouldn't yet have the strength of character to admit that he was falling and was starting to reconsider being a thief.

So now we've got Lance third wheeling it and Eugene trying not to show how much he likes Rapunzel while they're in the kingdom. (Bonus: that's twice the wanted thieves in the party now, while Punz is just trying to have a good time on her birthday!) We get to just before "I See the Light", and wouldn't you know it, the only boat left would be cramped if all three of them took it out! Lance, can you please stay here or take another boat or something? Again, Lance suspects that Flynn intends to make off with the crown without him for a second time, because they made no plans to meet up after this whole charade is over, and he's getting really irritated. Instead of enjoying the lights, he makes his way to the far bank, signals Eugene with the lantern, etc. Now when Eugene goes over there, he and Lance argue about the next step in the game. Think Miguel and Tulio towards the climax of Road to El Dorado. Eugene is just like, "Fine! Take the crown! I don't even want it anymore!" And Lance is like, "You mean you don't want to be partners anymore. You think I'm blind? You think I can't tell what's going on with you and the girl Eugene?" I don't think they'd get into an actual fistfight over this, but here comes Gothel with the steel chair a tree branch and knocks them both out, trusses them up and sends them back to the kingdom in a dinghy, then goes back to Rapunzel and shows her how, in the end, Flynn chose his life of crime over her.

In prison, Eugene and Lance are able to have a real heart-to-heart, clearing the air between them. Lance is able to see that Eugene was never out to betray him, and that he just wants a new life, a clean slate, with Rapunzel. He talks about the old lady who told him about her hair, and Eugene puts two and two together. Now it's Eugene and Lance who get broken out of prison by the Pub Thugs, but Lance stays with the Thugs to hold off the guards, urging Eugene to go save Rapunzel. Climax of the movie is the same as it is in canon.

For the second scenario, this means that Lance would be third wheeling it from the very start! They'd both find and climb the tower, Rapunzel would knock them both out and hide them both and interrogate them both. Lance and Flynn would be on the same page at the start, just trying to get the satchel/crown back from the girl, who is being a royal pain in the tuchus about this whole thing. But the thing is, with a second friendly presence who's also influencing Eugene the whole time, there's a lot less wiggle room for romance. I think there'd have to be some notable changes in order to keep New Dream on track in this version. It's hard to brew romance unless you can get the intended couple alone. I guess I'm saying it would need to be more like El Dorado in this version, where the (previously) Eugene perspective is now turned into a buddy flick, and that would need to be harmonious with Rapunzel's POV. Good for her that she makes two friends, but the impact of that means that she and Eugene are less likely to find time to fall.

Ooh, perhaps Lance doesn't get stuck in the cave with them, though? Yeah! Rapunzel and Eugene get stuck in the cave, Lance does not, they all get separated. Now Rapunzel and Eugene can have their opening up to each other stuff, Gothel can still set the suggestion to Lance that Eugene's trying to get Rapunzel's magical hair for herself, and we can pick up from the campsite scene in the first scenario! Yeah! But now, Lance is aware of the chemistry between Eugene and Rapunzel, and he's a bit more... reserved in the kingdom. Now he's playing the long game, waiting for the opportune moment to confront Flynn about Rapunzel and the crown and the hair and all that stuff. They fight after "I See the Light," continue on as in first scenario!

And this, my friends, has been a stream-of-consciousness brainstorming session by Bex!