#but ​it's totally fine if you want to interpret it as such who am I to judge

[lu-cider]

the way Liu Kang would look at Kung Lao in mk11 like he was the greatest gift God let roam the Earth. like I'm really glad we got to see him and Kitana kiss in mk1, but where's my Kang-Lao hug?????

[rowenablade]

Okay. I’m going to wait to do a second watch before I articulate most of my other feelings here, but I want to address one thing.

I’m seeing a lot of posts like, “I related to Izzy because I am also queer and older/disabled/depressed. By killing him off, the writers are saying that I deserve to die.”

Guys.

I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid. I totally understand grieving a character that you relate to. But speaking as a writer, I just want to point out that trying to write with the shadow of “what is the absolute worst and most harmful way a reader can interpret this” will smother your ability to create. Twisting yourself in knots, trying to think up the worst-faith takes possible and scotch-guarding all your writing decisions against them is exhausting to the point of making you just not want to write anymore.

And we’ve seen the writers deliberately choose not to do this in Season 1. Remember all those terrible “Izzy is racist” takes that the writers and cast seemed completely blindsided by? That happened because the writers and directors and actors weren’t going over every scene with a fine tooth comb, ferreting out every shot or line of dialogue or micro expression that could possibly be interpreted as racist, and scrubbing it off. Because there comes a point where your story is what it needs to be, and you have to accept that some people will interpret it in ways you didn’t intend them to. And if you can’t accept that, you’ll never find the courage to put your work out there.

The point of diverse casts and writing teams isn’t to achieve a state of, “Nothing bad ever happens to a character from a marginalized demographic ever again.” It’s to achieve a status quo of these types of characters just being people in the world of the story. Not symbols, not representation boxes to tick, not tokens that you can point to so that you can say, “Here, we acknowledged this type of person exists, now where’s our woke points?”

OFMD is full of characters of color, queer characters, older characters, characters of differing body types. And in stories, things happen to characters. Some fall in love. Some make the same mistakes over and over. Some turn into birds. Some die.

Izzy’s character represents a lot of things, but he does not represent every older, disabled fan or fan who has struggled with suicide, any more than Jim represents all genderqueer fans, or Olu represents all black fans. That’s not how the writers were handling him. They were handling him like a character, because that’s what you have to do.

Again, I understand being sad. I am so, so fucking sad. But this idea of, “Any time something bad happens to a character I relate to means that the writer thinks I deserve these bad things to happen to me,” will poison everything you engage with eventually. Because stories are full of things happening to characters, and they won’t all be good things. And the more representation we get, the more often bad things will happen to characters we relate to.

But good things will happen too.

Queer couples get married. Disabled women run off with their favorite husbands. Middle-aged characters change careers. A multiracial polycule finds a home at sea. A fat man covered in tattoos stars in a drag show and all his friends cheer. All these things happened in the same show as Izzy’s death. This is what this world is.

Anyway. I know emotions are running high and I’ll probably get blocked or unfollowed by a few people for this. But I’m just trying to find my peace where I can, and if anyone else finds this useful, cheers.

[aurae-rori]

DR RATIO ANALYSIS

SPOILERS FOR 2.1 CONTENT!

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, Oh No! and Are You Satisfied? are much too basic songs to analyze Dr. Ratio to! Just because he's a scholar doesn't mean that he has academic trauma!" WRONG! Before we start, I have been researching psychology for approximately six years and I plan to go into it professionally. HOWEVER, that said, I am NOT a professional (YET. One day I will be. Yay for Aurae!) so understand that everything I come to conclusions about has been analyzed with some personal judgement, personal interpretations, and this is just what I have concluded with the info that I have deconstructed from his brain. If you disagree, that's fine!

I will be pulling from my own experiences with being a "golden" and "gifted" child, as well as the experiences I've had speaking to other people who were those. I will also be pulling from my experiences of researching and seeing how people with superiority complexes work, as well as diving into how those work (from what I've seen, as well as how they conceal a lack of self-esteem).

OKAY, NOW THAT THAT LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, ALLOW ME TO WORK MY PSYCH ENJOYER MAGIC! Let's deconstruct Dr. Ratio like a lego toy.

Let's start off with how Dr. Ratio presents himself. When you first meet him, he seems like a haughty, arrogant asshole. He likes to PRESENT himself as a stoic, superior scholar who is purely in it to win it, and I got total "*stares down at your tiny body and laughs at how you lack knowledge*" vibes at the very start, due to how he goes around calling people idiots all the time. However, he DOES lose the idgaf war, and we can very quickly see that he does care for other people, even if in his own, strange way. Dr Ratio presentation: An asshole. The reality?

His entire character is based around the idea of helping the masses. He wishes to spread knowledge through the cosmos and give people who didn't have access to it, access. He's a harsh teacher, and calling people 'idiots' is NOT the way to motivate them, but he's doing his best™.

Actually, no, I'm going to go full psych into this. Okay, so here starts the Dr. Ratio and my FATHER COMPARISONS. My father is a professor and he is often called a harsh grader by his students. However, I've spoken to him multiple times because I was curious - why is he so harsh and diligent with his grading system? The answer is - he wants them to actually learn. When he's grading, he gives them harsh marks because he wants them to know exactly where they messed up, and he's always willing to stay after hours to help students understand where they can't. My father also is an enjoyer of knowledge, and for as long as I've remembered, he has prioritized teaching me how to think critically. He wants me to be able to think for myself - and I think that's what Dr. Ratio wants, too. He wants for his students to be able to fully comprehend and absorb the information that he teaches, and although his methods are harsh, he genuinely wants to help. My father's like this too - he hates students that waste his time or aren't here because their hearts are in it. Dr. Ratio hates people who aren't taking their education seriously because knowledge is important. Knowledge is a tool, and to disregard it completely is lowkey kind of insulting - especially when there are people who weren't privileged enough to actually get it, so this isn't something that you should take for granted. Dr. Ratio despises people who take knowledge for granted.

Also, I disagree with the claims that say that Dr. Ratio hates the genius society. He shows open respect for them in his voice lines. Just check them if you need proof. Also, I'll delve into the idea of Aeons and recognition later.

Now that we’ve established that Dr. Ratio kins my dad, let’s let's tackle the 'stoic' allegations. He is LOSING the idgaf war. Like, really badly. He has a temper of a thousand suns and snaps at people frequently, despite his 'impassive' face, his tone holds a LOT of emotion. He seems to feel very deeply and has a shit ton of empathy for others - why else would he be dedicating his entire career to helping others? Of course, he doesn't express this in 'typical' ways of being openly kind - but it doesn't mean that he doesn't care for other people. In fact, he seems to be pretty good at putting himself in the shoes of others and understanding them - expressed in the 2.1 quest where he tells Aventurine to tell him if he can't hold on any longer. Also, he loses the IDGAF war because he is actively trying to help people who want to learn and trying to spread logic and knowledge across the cosmos to those who didn't have it before. Would a man who didn't GAF do that? No!

Now that we've covered his view on knowledge and the way that he presents himself, let's turn to the way that he SEES himself. Now, this is where we get into the nitty gritty of gifted child trauma & academic trauma as well as crippling expectations. It's literally explicitly said in his character stories that he sees himself as mediocre, and it's canon that he doesn't have a good view of himself. His self-esteem is down in the fucking trenches along with my sanity as I write this analysis. The reality is - being called a genius your whole life doesn't really make you feel better about yourself. I'd know. I was. In fact, it makes you feel fucking worse when you can't live up to an expectation. We all fail in life. It's part of being human. But when you're held to such high standards - idolized for your knowledge and the way that you're 'gifted' - the crash comes really fucking hard. Failure is inevitable, and when people who are held on that pedestal experience it, they take it really bad.

The reality is that nobody - not even geniuses - are perfect, but you grow up believing that you are. Then, when you fail for the first time, it all comes tumbling down. The first time I came home with a bad grade was one of the most humiliating moments of my life. I hadn't studied because I was arrogant and I thought that I was smart enough to pass without putting any extra effort into it - because I was a 'gifted' child, right? I should've been able to do it without studying like the other kids. And that's the thing with gifted children – you grow reliant on that title. You cling onto it for dear life for motivation, as well as self-perception. Little by little, the person you are falls apart as you slave away to the perception other people have of you. I think basically every gifted child that I've ever spoken to is a victim of this – and of course, you can heal from this mindset - but it's a hard one to shake.

Ratio's way of presenting himself as being a 'genius' and 'arrogant' also seems to contradict the way that he calls himself 'mundane' at the same time. However, these are two mindsets that can coexist. One part of you believes that you are a genius and that you are perfect, while the other part is crumbling and calling yourself good-for-nothing every time you make a mistake. It's a tiring cycle to live in. This usually leads to people shutting themselves out and closing themselves off after living like that, pushing back your own feelings in favour of being the perfect child. However, we don't know the exact details of Dr. Ratio's childhood, but we can infer that he was held to a pedestal, and this is a very harmful mindset for a child to have.

His superiority complex comes both from how other people view him, but it's a way to cope with his crippling lack of self-esteem. I'm sorry my guy. Also helping others probably helps him feel like he's worth something and makes him feel better because he bases his entire worth off of what he can do and how he can help others. However, this is just my personal interpretation backed by what I have already deconstructed. 

In general, this is an easy way to crush self-esteem. You spend your whole life working to meet the image of what other people think you are. In fact, another reason why Dr. Ratio might be so harsh is because that’s the kind of attitude he holds towards himself when conducting research – he’s as hard on himself as he is to others. You end up hating the idea of failure, instead of seeing it as it should be - a way to improve and grow. Actually, I think this could be a reason that he went out of his way to break that illusion of 'worshipping geniuses' in the Space Station. Maybe some sort of childhood connection? Personal connection? In his endeavour to spread more knowledge and make people think for themselves and not blindly follow geniuses, to wake them up and let them think for themselves - maybe, somewhere, in there, he's helping that little child that was almost dehumanized for his intelligence. TLDR: Conflicting mindsets due to trauma, brain vs heart almost - his knowledge that he is a genius vs the crippling lack of his self worth.

Now that we've established Dr. Ratio's self worth, let's take a look at the impact Aeons had on him. Nous, the Aeon of Knowledge itself. I think in a world where the Gods are real, tangible beings that you can reach out and talk to - it makes sense that someone with high ambition and someone who's been called a genius his whole life would seek the confirmation of Nous. When you're a man of knowledge, and you've spent your whole life working with it, being praised for it – it feels natural to look for a god to look down upon you and bless you, right? The Genius Society – it should house him, because he is a genius as well, right? Imagine this – you have been called a genius your whole life, held to that kind of pedestal for so long, and now you wait for the recognition of the Gods. Because if you truly are a genius – then surely, a higher being will recognize your intelligence, right?

The invitation never comes.

And then, comes the doubt.

What if I'm really not a genius? What if everything I've worked for is a lie? Aeons are beings that are 'absolute'. If the god of Knowledge won't accept you or even cast a glance upon you, does that mean that everything was wrong. Gods see more than humans, after all. Gods know more than humans - and that spiral... I think you can see if. (If you don't let me know. I will ramble about how a failure like that can make you spiral down into a worse mindset). 

However, the reason why Ratio was never invited to the Genius Society is simple. It’s because he LOSES THE IDGAF WAR. Now, if we look at all the people we know who are in the Genius Society - we find one thing in common. They’re in it to win it for themselves. They don’t help others using the knowledge that they’ve gotten - they use it to pursue shit for themselves. The people of the Genius Society are inherently self-serving. They WIN the idgaf war. Ratio LOSES. Do we see now? 

Ratio’s empathy is the reason why he wasn’t let in. He is too human. Nous is a computer. Herta is detached from people. Ruan Mei is literally looking at life as test subjects. Screwllum is a robot. 

OUR DOCTOR MAN LOST THE IDGAF WAR, BECAUSE HE IS HUMAN AND FEELS FOR OTHERS!!! 

Also, it’s a plausible theory that Nous’s definition of ‘genius’ is different from the human definition of ‘genius’ – it’s a computer, after all. Who knows what’s going on in that code head of its. 

However, we still love you Ratio. Never stop losing the IDGAF war. 

TLDR: Nous is a computer. It is also in it to win it. It is also self serving. It gazes upon the hoes who are here to win it for themselves. Ratio is busy serving the masses and cooking knowledge in his frying pan. To it, there is no logical reason to be doing this. Therefore, no reason to invite this guy to the Genius Society. 

Ratio’s gifted child trauma says otherwise. He wants in. Why wouldn’t he? He’s been working his whole life as a genius. 

Nous is like… nah bro, you care too much. Ratio is like, ‘what the fuck?’ And then the AEON OF KNOWLEDGE GOES FOR THE MILK. 

Okay, now, quick shoutout to Ratio wanting to help others. He is just like me fr. SO BASICALLY, RECAP OF EVERYTHING I JUST SAID:

Ratio LOSES the idgaf war because he cares about other people. Spent his whole life as the golden egg, and then turns to the gods for recognition because of the inherent trauma of being a child genius. He goes, "hey bro, can you confirm that I am in fact a genius?" and Nous goes, "no, you are too busy cheffing for the masses." Ratio goes, "what the fuck?" and then we collectively realize his attitude comes from blocking off his feelings (while failing miserably), being salty about not being recognized, being put on a pedestal for his whole life, and his crippling depression *cough* lack of self worth *cough*. 

Oh, and the "I will never be enough" thought train probably hits him every single day. He is not enough to be recognized by a God. Gods are superior to humans. Maybe nothing has worth after all. Hey, that's Nihility! Hi IX, let's hear what you have to say.

*muffled ix noises*

I see, I see.

The consensus is: HE'S TRAUMATIZED BY EXPECTATIONS! HE WILL PROBABLY SUFFER FROM BURNT OUT GIFTED CHILD IF HE HAS NOT ALREADY!

Okay, now, before I delve into song lyrics (and I KNOW this has been long, just bear with me) I want to talk a little bit (read: a lot) about his relationship with Aventurine. We all know that he cares about Aventurine in his own way. But I want to pull in another idea that I didn’t cover before: 

Ratio’s fucking emotional constipation. 

Basically, the reason why he has trouble connecting with others is because he was most likely alienated by others as a symptom of being called a genius and being put on a pedestal. This makes him seem unapproachable to his peers, most likely, and therefore, as a result, doesn’t know how to properly connect with others. This just makes his way of presenting affection and care to others even more challenging – because he just doesn’t know how to do it in a healthy and clear way. Academic trauma causing emotional problems, because he’s probably a little bit out of touch with his own. Processing? No! Research. Also, this is very important for understanding Ratio’s character in my opinion, because he’s just a little guy who doesn’t know how to articulate. Maybe he’s got a touch of the ‘tism. Tism mutuals, do we agree or disagree? 

However, in comes Aventurine. Love Aventurine, but they are both emotionally constipated. Aventurine displays his affection in ways that Ratio probably only catches after re-analyzing their time together about five times. He’s also a very closed off individual – but Ratio knows this. A cute thing is that Ratio is patient where he needs to be, even if he’s generally a pretty hot-headed guy, and I’m like… bro… that letter… “I wish you the best of luck”... I will wait for you…. GAY ASS MAN…

Sorry the Aventio demons took over. Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that they both have nonverbal communication with one another that they clearly decipher and Ratio obviously cares for him (he came back and almost jeopardized the plan just for the sake of his ‘coworker’... okay gayboy…) and they just have such a neat little dynamic… Aventurine lets Dr. Ratio do his thing… understands his emotional alienation to a degree…. they’re so neat….

Okay, Aventurine segment over. NOW, FINALLY, WE CAN GET TO THE SONG LYRICS!!! YAY!!!! We all cheered!!!

We are going to be here for two more amber eras, because I realized I actually want to analyze every single lyric from both of these songs. Brace yourself for like, 2k more words. Help. 

I think it’s only proper that we start off with ‘Oh No!’ the song that has haunted me since my childhood.

“Don’t do love, don’t do friends

I’m only after success

Don’t need a relationship

I’ll never soften my grip”

Remember when I mentioned that alienation was a big part of Ratio lore? Yeah, that manifests itself in this. When you spend your entire life chasing after knowledge and being held to that standard of untouchable genius, it makes sense that you couldn’t connect with others and that you turn your gaze only to success. Therefore, relationships that are interpersonal lose meaning for a bit – you’re just looking for answers and ways to help them, not connect with them. Also, this is what he wants to do – so he’s never going to pass down an opportunity to better himself or to help someone else. 

“Don’t want cash, don’t want card

Want it fast, want it hard 

Don’t need money, don’t need fame

I just want to make a change

I just wanna change, I just wanna change” 

This is directly alluding to his reasonings for distributing knowledge across the cosmos. Was he based on this song? Maybe he was. He’s not looking for money or fame, his ultimate goal is actually pretty selfless – to bring knowledge and give people the tools they need to think for themselves. He just wants to make a change – he just wants people to be able to have access to knowledge and help cure ‘stupidity’. He wants to do it as quickly as possible, always reaching for lofty goals that might seem impossible, but he will make them possible. 

“I know exactly what I want and who I want to be

I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine

I’m now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy

Oh! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no, oh!” 

Ratio knows his goal. He knows what he’s working towards. I do believe that he understands why he is the way that he is – he has a degree in Psychology, after all. He knows how he’s been hurt but at the same time, the trauma brain probably doesn’t want to recognize it and he hasn’t stepped into healing yet. He knows what he went through impacted him, but he’s too busy helping others to help himself. He’s becoming what he wants to be, and yet he’s not, all at the same time – which causes the idea of “oh no!” as a kind of cry for help, almost. He’s too proud to ask for it himself, of course, so he’ll fall alone until someone manages to catch him and give him the strength to continue holding on. Aventurine is that. 

“One track mind, one track heart

If I fail, I’ll fall apart

Maybe it is all a test

‘Cause I feel like I’m the worst

So I always act like I’m the best” 

Now, these are the exact lyrics that made me associate this song with Ratio in the first place. He’s got a singular goal that he will do nothing to stop at getting, that he goes so far to get to. However, as I mentioned earlier, failure is not an option for those who were deemed gifted or genius. You are perfect, so therefore you must live up to everyone’s every expectation and surpass them, too, in order to keep your perception of yourself intact. Ratio does not hold himself in high regard, but acts arrogant in order to hold himself together and not fall to the self-deprecating thoughts, even if they fall through the cracks. It gets tiring to hold yourself together like that for a long time, you know? 

“I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die

I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die” 

Remember how I was talking about contradictory mindsets and how they can coexist. This is them. The feeling of crippling self-hatred and lack of self esteem versus the idea that you can do it, you can make a difference – you were born a genius, this is what you’re going to do. This is the knowledge that you are a genius vs the lack of self-esteem that Ratio has. “Mediocre” vs “genius” mindset, eh? 

All the other lyrics in this song are repetitions of what I’ve analyzed before, so let’s move onto “Are you Satisfied?” 

To be honest, there are only a few lines in this song that allow me to connect it to Ratio, so therefore, I will only be analyzing them. However, if you think that other lyrics can connect to him, I’d be interested in knowing how. 

“What you’re gonna be 

It’s not my problem if you don’t see what I see

And I do not give a damn if you don’t believe

My problem, it’s my problem that I never am happy

It’s my problem, it’s my problem on how fast I will succeed”

Pretending to not care about how the world sees you is so fucking real. Sometimes, you really don’t give a shit, and sometimes it’s all you can think about. Ratio… doesn’t seem like he’s the happiest person. He works himself hard and he’s always chasing after a goal that must be exhausting. He’s always doing his best, and I think even with his empathy, it’s easy to start not giving a shit after trying for so long and so hard. Accepting help is one of the hardest things that anybody can do, especially with how much pride he has. His personal problems are his personal problems and he can deal with them on his own. 

“High achiever, don’t you see? 

Baby, nothing comes for free

They say I’m a control freak

Driven by a greed to succeed

Nobody can stop me” 

Nothing comes for free. A lot of the things Ratio has achieved is due to his own intelligence, yes, but also because of a shit ton of hard work. His goal is literally to cure the universe of ‘stupidity’ – and that’s a pretty large fucking goal. He is a high achiever who likes to know the details of every situation when he can in order to try and make things better, and he is driven by a greed to succeed. Why wouldn’t he be? Success is important, and success means helping more people. He isn’t going to allow himself to be stopped by anybody – not even anybody from the Genius society. 

Okay, and we have finally reached the end of my analysis! This caps at around 4k words, so if you stuck around for this long, thank you so much. I would love to hear any of your comments, and I hope you laughed a little bit. Thank you again! This means so much to me that you read. <3

[l0vem41l]

something's wrong with the morning.

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited 2 the max, potentially ooc but WHO GAF (me. igaf), he misreads tone over text and it's totally not me projecting, bros just a little anxious and its totally not me projecting, richard "acts of service" grayson in the real, pretty heavily romantic implied but it can be interpreted as platonic becuz we fw that here!!!!! 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. richard "dick" grayson/nightwing

author's note: yes i am uh. doing More dc stuff. guys im really sorry but its literally leeching off my brain like a parasite i fear. enjoy!!!!!!! ♪(´▽｀) <3 the lyric below is what i based this off of but as usual, GENDER NEUTRAL READER!!!

"and how something's wrong with the morning / when he doesn't phone to say he loves me"

dick has been staring at the text since the minute he received it.

“gm.”

you sent two letters. and a period at the end.

immediately, there's a weird feeling he gets— a pit forming in the depths of his stomach as he reads it over and over again, as if he expects it to magically change in front of his eyes.

you usually send something… more in the morning. you greet him happily and use a silly nickname, he greets you and uses a silly nickname back. it's sort of tradition for the two of you, mainly built on the fact that him being a vigilante leaves very little time for the two of you.

so what the hell happened to that tradition? where’s his “good morning pookie!” or “hope you slept well, sunshine :]” that he's grown so accustomed to?

of course, he has to go on with his day like usual. at least, he's trying his best. to his credit, he does pretty well. after all, dick grayson is a performer at heart! even if it secretly feels like a part of his world just collapsed in on itself, he does not sulk about it.

but to the observant, there's obviously been a shift.

the slightly irritable mood he’s been in? definitely normal. the fact that he’s been swiping away every notification with disinterest if it’s not you? totally nothing.

more astute criminals in blüdhaven are a little off put by the fact that nightwing is still at full quip capacity while hitting just a little harder and being just a teeny bit more bitchy.

there nervous speculation going around that next week he'll be in the discowing fit

nightwing notices that his mask is slipping a bit. but does he care? well... not really. what's more important to him is what's going on inside his head. and he's been thinking— hardcore reflecting on every single recent previous interaction with you, looking back to everything that must’ve made things go wrong.

maybe he should’ve let you win that one argument last monday, even though he’d been pretty certain he was right because you really aren't supposed to stack cards in uno that way.

or maybe “anything’s fine” as a response to you asking what he wanted for dinner was the wrong move— he knew you hated when he didn’t help your indecisiveness.

was it the movie he picked for movie night on your hangout? fuck, that might've been it, you totally hate the main actor. how could he have forgotten?

either way, he’s dead set on the fact he did something to piss you off and now you won’t even greet him good morning.

later in the afternoon, you find a cute little basket on your doorstep containing your favorite flowers, your favorite snacks… and an apology note??

“dick,” you message, “what’s going on?”

he doesn’t reply back. instead, he calls you.

before you can even greet him, his voice chimes in with a whole spiel you didn't expect to be hit with.

“i messed up. i know i did and i should've done better. and i’m so sorry, i wanna make this work and i just— from the bottom of my heart— i really, truly apologize—”

you blink several times at your phone before interrupting. “oookay, woah, woah, woah. let's slow down. the fuck are you apologizing for?”

“...your message this morning.” he mumbles out, barely audible. you can hear the pout in his voice somehow.

“what? the one i typed up while rushing to work?” it’s hard to stifle your laughter. “dude, i just woke up a little late. i promise i still love you.”

he doesn't know whether to feel more relieved that you're not actually upset with him or embarrassed about the drastic, immediate measures he took to make things right. things being absolutely nothing, because obviously you weren't gonna be petty over uno rules, nondecisions, or movies.

"you should come over. we can share the snacks if you get here in time." click.

he'll be at your door the minute patrol is done. not for the snacks though it is a nice bonus but to see you. lord knows you need the time together.

— reblogs always appreciated!

[solxamber]

PSssstt I just Love the idea of teaching epel the capoeira fighting Style, it looks like somewhat of a dance but it’s really cool, and Vil has no choice but to allow it because this type of martial arts doesnt seem as brutish as other styles

I went to research what capoeira was to write this and got sucked into watching an hour of videos.

Also thank you for the request, I hope you like it <3

The day you decided to teach Epel capoeira was the day Vil learned what real suffering looked like.

“Dance fighting?” Vil had narrowed his eyes at the words, suspicion already hanging heavy in the air. “I don’t want Epel involved in anything that makes him look any less graceful.”

You had simply waved a hand at Vil, grinning with mischief as you spun towards Epel, who looked at you like you were about to hand him the holy grail of badassery. “Don’t worry, Vil, it’s not brutish. It’s artistic. There’s rhythm, elegance—”

“And kicks to the face,” Vil deadpanned.

Epel perked up immediately. “Wait, kicks to the face?”

You clapped a hand on his shoulder, nodding. “Kicks to the face.”

“That sounds amazing!” Epel grinned.

Vil sighed dramatically. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?"

You took Epel to the courtyard for your first capoeira session. He stood there, looking a little confused, while you bounced lightly on your feet, demonstrating the basic movements with a graceful sway of your hips.

“It’s like dancing,” you explained, “but with more flair. See, you start with this move—the ginga. It’s all about rhythm, making your opponent think you're in a dance, then BAM—”

You twisted into a fluid kick that had Epel’s eyes widen in awe.

Epel tried to imitate you, his movements a little stiff, but the kid had spirit. “This feels so cool already!”

You flashed him a grin. “Trust me, when Vil sees this, he won’t even be mad. He’ll be impressed. Just imagine his face when you pull this off with grace and precision.”

“Or,” came Vil’s voice from a distance as he watched the two of you, “I’ll be horrified at the utter lack of coordination.”

You turned to Vil with a dramatic bow. “Fear not, great Vil, for Epel is going to be the most elegant, face-kicking machine Twisted Wonderland has ever seen.”

Epel, laughing, threw himself into another attempt at the moves. The kick didn’t quite hit the mark, but you saw potential. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Am I getting it? I feel like I’m getting it.”

You patted his back. “You’ve got the spirit! Now, just remember, it’s not just about strength, it’s about flow. You want to move like water, Epel.”

Vil rubbed his temples, clearly beginning to wonder why he had allowed this madness. “Flow like water, he says, yet here we are, barely avoiding disaster…”

With a sly look at Vil, you added, “Hey, why don’t you try it too? You’ve got good rhythm from all that stage practice.”

Vil blinked at you, entirely unamused. “As if I would risk breaking a nail on this—”

But before he could finish his sentence, Epel swung into a surprisingly graceful spin-kick that nearly grazed Vil’s nose. Vil jerked back, eyes wide.

“Oops,” Epel said sheepishly. “Sorry, Vil.”

You burst out laughing, and even Vil couldn’t hold back a small smirk. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Fine. I’ll admit… there’s a certain charm to it. Just as long as Epel doesn’t try this at a gala.”

Epel grinned, puffing his chest out. “I could totally pull this off at a fancy party.”

You snickered. “And if anyone asks, just tell them it’s interpretive dance.”

Vil groaned. “I should have known you’d drag me into this chaos.”

“Chaos?” You winked at him. “I prefer the term… art in motion.”

As you continued training Epel, Vil found himself shaking his head with amusement. “Just don’t destroy any furniture when you inevitably try this indoors.”

You grinned. “No promises.”

[mermaidsirennikita]

Sadly, the Wuthering Heights furor has also led to people (many of whom, let us be real, simply dislike the book or otherwise only think of it when it's brought up) to discourse about the content of the novel versus the wrongness of Emerald Fennell's choices with regards to the movie, which of course, has opened up the classic "IT'S NOT A ROMANCE! IT'S NOT A LOVE STORY! BAD PEOPLE! HATE STORY!"

... Which is... also a bad take.

First off, to be very clear, "Romance" is not inherently "genre romance", which is the thing I blog a lot about that was solidified in the latter half of the twentieth century (and which, no doubt, was influenced on some level by WH as much as Jane Eyre, Austen novels and so on). Wuthering Heights is a romance, it's just not a genre romance/romance novel. And indisputably, Wuthering Heights is a love story.

It may not be a love story you like. It may not be a love story with a happily ever after (though I will say—this is one of the few books where I think it's pretty debatable, as "wandering the moors as ghosts", if that is what happened, is kind of... what Cathy and Heathcliff would've wanted... and their ultimate desire was to be TOGETHER, regardless of whether or not it damned them, so is it an HEA in their freaky minds? Maybe so lol). It may ALSO be an abuse story in which the lovers act horribly to each other.... though, I gotta say, MUCH WORSE to literally everyone else in their lives than they do to each other...

But it's a love story. That is one of several things it happens to be. The entire novel is driven by this central love story between Heathcliff and Cathy—a love that is, contrary to what a surface-level reading or reading by word of mouth would imply... very much mutual. I've already gone on about how Cathy Earnshaw is not Heathcliff's victim the way Isabella Linton is, and how Cathy is very much as involved in the love affair as he is. But truly, while their individual internal struggles are the framework and what keeps them apart in many ways—Heathcliff being a man of color and subject to racist abuse, Cathy conforming to society and classist pressures when her natural temperament is very much not of society—what propels the story is this romance.

Because they are supposed to be read as extremely similar, and as two people who do not truly identify with anyone but one another. They're supposed to be read as like minds. They're supposed to be read as thwarted. Some of the things those two say about each other and to each other are legitimately some of the most romantic lines I've ever read.

I mean, are they also kind of sick and wrong? Sure! But I do find it kind of rich to see people who are totally fine with reading dark romance wring their hands over the public at large interpreting Heathcliff and Cathy's relationship as an epic romance. I don't have an issue with anyone enjoying either! But. Let us be real. Part of why y'all are even enjoying work like that is the standard that books like WH set, and the fact that WH does speak to the lure of the dark and the tragedy of people who are super imperfect... and also super in love... continuously fucking up their own lives (and the lives of basically everyone around them) in this push-pull of denial and desire.

When people say "HOW COULD ANYONE EVER INTERPRET THIS AS ROMANTIC?" I just have to question... did you read the book? Because even if it's not for YOU, if it's not romantic TO YOU, surely you can see why other people (me and mine lol) read lines like these and go, "Wow, romantic":

“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you--haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

(fun fact: I do have a part of the above quote tattooed on my body and I'm very happy about it)

"My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it."

"Hush, my darling! Hush, hush, Catherine! I'll stay. If he shot me so, I'd expire with a blessing on my lips."

[said when her damn husband is almost at the door lol]

"I’m not wishing you greater torment than I have, Heathcliff. I only wish us never to be parted: and should a word of mine distress you hereafter, think I feel the same distress underground, and for my own sake, forgive me!"

"'Heathcliff, dear! you should not be sullen now. Do come to me, Heathcliff.’

In her eagerness she rose and supported herself on the arm of the chair. At that earnest appeal he turned to her, looking absolutely desperate. His eyes, wide and wet, at last flashed fiercely on her; his breast heaved convulsively. An instant they held asunder, and then how they met I hardly saw, but Catherine made a spring, and he caught her, and they were locked in an embrace from which I thought my mistress would never be released alive..."

"Kiss me again; and don’t let me see your eyes! I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer—but yours! How can I?"

[Read: she is the murderer he is talking about. He's saying she doomed herself to death a long time ago, and he hates her for it. While also crying and kissing her lmao]

They're sickos! Nobody can argue otherwise. But that does not mean they're not in love, and it doesn't mean this isn't a love story, and wagging your fingers at people who read this as the obviously destructive love story this is and find it romantic... doesn't change that.

And the thing is that the book makes it pretttyyyy clear that even if Heathcliff and Cathy has assholery programed into their personalities, WITHOUT the contexts of how they were raised and the society that expects them both to conform to prescribed roles, they would probably just... be together. Like, they victimize people, especially Heathcliff. But they are also victims. The book isn't about a critique of two people Emily Bronte dreamed up; it's a critique of the CIRCUMSTANCES by way of Gothic, subversive melodrama. At the end of the day, their feelings, however passionate they are, are not inherently subversive. Their feelings are NATURAL. But they're twisted and contorted into something ugly through circumstance and the characters' responses to those circumstances.

For Heathcliff, A LOT of those circumstances that did twist him are in fact out of his control. Which is why we hate that casting, right?

But all that said, a love story being dirtybadwrong and about Bad People doesn't mean it isn't a love story, lol. Again—we don't even expect genre romance to be about good people.

Like. Yeah. We know Heathcliff and Cathy are assholes. You're not breaking new ground with that take. The book is still, in many ways, about those assholes being in love.

[now-you-sound-like-a-jedi]

thinking about this scene again

Cause I've seen a lot of different people's takes on this floating around on my dash recently, so I thought I'd add mine to the mix.

You could easily interpret this as a shameless attempt at a guilt trip and Bo-Katan being a hypocrite, etc etc. and that's a totally valid interpretation, but it's always seemed a little easy/one-dimensional to me, and I do think there's another perspective that's actually more interesting:

Bo-Katan herself is bound to be conscious of the fact that she doesn't really have a leg to stand on here. She knows she played a part in creating this situation, and that snipping at Obi-Wan for not caring enough about Satine is very much throwing stones from a glass house.

But when you consider her internal conflict, of fundamentally disagreeing with what Satine stood for versus memories of a time when they weren't enemies versus her own guilt over her perceived failure to save Satine versus the fact that, after everything, she was still her sister, it's easy to imagine all of this combining to leave her feeling like "am I allowed to grieve? Am I allowed to be sad?"

But, of course, this is Bo-Katan, so she's hardly about to work through this constructively. Instead, she channels it all into hunting down Maul, and whether it's justice or revenge or simply a destructive way of handling grief/guilt doesn't really matter to her.

And then she meets Obi-Wan, who should want the same thing, who (in her mind) has infinitely more of a right to these feelings of grief and loss than she does, because he was there for Satine when she wasn't, because he cared about Satine while Bo-Katan behaved as though she hated her, so his grief would at least seem rational...

... and yet outwardly Obi-Wan is Mr Perfectly Fine. If he feels anything like what she does, he doesn't show it.

So it could be a guilt trip, it could be hypocrisy, or it could be a genuine reflection of what this looks like to her, a frustrated questioning of "why am I, the one who hurt and betrayed and failed her, still so hurt and angry about her death while you, the one who was supposed to love her, aren't?"

[pluralescentmoon]

as promised, the "pearl is a system who doesn't know it (yet)" propoganda totally-an-essay for @thecoolerliauditore

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS ABOUT THE CHARACTER. NONE OF THIS IS ABOUT CC!PEARL. I ALSO DO NOT THINK SHE'S DOING THIS INTENTIONALLY. this is just how I'm choosing to interpret her character, because it makes things a LOT more interesting. this also works under the assumption that life series pearl and Hermitcraft pearl are the same character, so if that's not your vibe, that's fine! this is just your warning. I am also not saying all alters in every system has specific roles, or triggers. and if you dont know what im referring to at any point in this post, please let me know! I'm just trying to explain my thought process in a clear and concise way, even for those who don't know specific details about those under the plurality umbrella.

mild wild life spoilers ahead as well! you've been warned!

so! pearl has a bit of an unusual habit of how she refers to herself. she tends to do it in parts. she gives them identities, names. roles. example of this being, post master pearl, the cleaning lady, scarlet pearl, editor pearl (yes this one too i PROMISE I promise it'll make sense). each of these are like specific "characters". they're masks she puts on, to play the part of that specific pearl. they have their purpose, their roles, their clothes (separate skins). each of them are similar, but still unique and distinct from each other.

each one of these pearls has a purpose, a specific role they play in her life. they're specifically called upon for their tasks. for certain things, there's a pearl for it. it's almost as if these pearls have triggers that pull them out for specific reasons that seem important to helping their shared body…

an example of this is, there was a point recently in Pearl's season 10 where she was rebuilding her storage room. and, she found herself in a familiar set of clothes. taking care of the mess, as the cleaning lady. which leads to interesting implications! c!pearl feeling like she needs to change into another set of clothes to do something like organizing her chest, and call herself a specific title while doing so

cc!pearl has even said she sees her character as having phases (like the moon lol). and that she likes wearing specific skins (clothes) for them.

I think these specific pearls, these segregated parts of pearl, are her alters. alters that have specific clothes they prefer to wear, triggers to pull them to the front, and roles they fill in the system.

now that brings up the question, what are their roles exactly?

we'll start with the easy ones!

Normal Hermitcraft Pearl - Host. the silly. she's a goofy gal, the one we see the most. she's also given these other parts of herself names, based on the tasks that they carry out. she just thinks she's putting on a few different masks for each of these characters, and does not realize what's going on at all.

Post Master Pearl - this would be the one who works in the post office, the one who wants to deliver the mail. she's their work alter! she mainly does stuff with the mail system, including building the top part of some mailboxes or retrieving the lost parcels

Cleaning Lady - this one feels pretty self explanatory. she likes to clean and organize, and I think she could be contributed to a caretaker, as I'm going to contribute the SOUP thing to her, since it was season 9 more than anything else. she's here to clean and make sure they have good meals, but gets stressed about it sometimes. she also absolutely has nightmares about Grian's storage prank lol

Scarlet Pearl - abandonment/trust issues given form, scarlet would be a protector/trauma holder. we saw her forming in double life! she's the reason pearl seems to go from being fine with Scott, to snarking him. i think host pearl is, consciously or not, trying to suppress scarlet pearl from fronting in wild life, as host pearl does want to be friends with scott again… because she doesn't remember the extent of her trauma from double life. not the full of it anyways.

I have a lot of thoughts about protector scarlet pearl ngl but we'll get back to that. there's one more alter to talk about first.

I also have some thoughts about her having a Santa Perla introject because of Sausage's influence, but that one is less solid. still, she gets an honorable mention.

and now the biggest one. somehow the silliest one, and also the one I feel the strongest about. editor pearl.

editor pearl is of course, a silly OOC joke… but the implications of her existing are so very interesting. if we take the videos to be how pearl remembers things, if we take them as how she would tell things to others, then this means there's things that are purposefully… cut out of what she remembers. things that change context, or that are even almost… too much to remember. it's like she has someone there, taking snippets of her memories away. making her forget them, making her retell events in different ways than others.

that's what editor pearl is.

editor pearl is the alter that takes care of their memories. she cuts out the parts she doesn't want pearl to remember, because they're too traumatizing, they arent important, or she doesn't sees them as worth remembering.

this affects how pearl sees not only herself, but everyone else around her. conversations are forgotten by her, but not by the other side. the way certain memories are framed change drastically when you can only remember the parts that someone else WANTS you to remember. editor pearl is a memory holder, who just wants to help their system out by keeping the Good parts. she's gives pearl what she thinks pearl will want to remember, which means pearl only tells the parts editor pearl approves of.

I think, with everything going on in wild life, pearl is well on her way to discovering just what's going on inside her mind. whether she wants to, or not. scarlet pearl can only be held back for so long, and pearl has been doing that for two sessions now.

oh, sure, scarlet was allowed to snark in the first episode. but the second episode, comparing it to Cleo's POV… there's things missing. things cut out. entire conversations left completely out of Pearl's version of the story.

I think editor Pearl and scarlet pearl are working together a bit. cut out the memories of scarlet saying she wants to throw up at the idea of being family. and so many other little lines. cut it all out, make it easier to remember, easier to deal with.

because, after all, they just want to do their jobs. they just want to help, to make life more bearable. to make everything okay. host may not want them to, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her…

but this isn't built to last. not with host pearl keeping scarlet locked away as tightly as she is. sooner or later, something has to give. and sooner or later, they'll figure out what's going on. I have a feeling it's going to be messy, because pearl (scarlet) doesn't like feeling like people thinks she's crazy. and this will only make her feel crazy before the end.

but it can't last the way it has been. eventually, something is gonna break. or, maybe instead someone.

this isnt going to go well for host pearl.

[strlingsav]

I’m simply in love with your portrayal of Simon/Ghost. This fandom has so many incredibly talented writers, I am glad I stumbled upon your work! Your interpretation of his character is among my favourites 🥰 if it interests you, I would like to request a comfort fic w a femme reader who is perhaps not active on the field herself, but more on the intelligence/IT side of the operations (you can totally change this if you want, it’s up for your interpretation!) who is capable but suffers from insecurity and imposters sydrome (yep I am totally projecting🤫🤐) and during a mental breakdown bc of the stress from work, Ghost of all people, who she previously has only seen during a few briefings and never has approached bc of his intimidating reputation, finds her. Cue to the stoic scary big man who has previously only stared her down turning out to be actually very supportive and appreciative of her work because he always has noticed her. It’s up to you if want to keep it sfw or not! But a dash of softdom/service top sprinkled w some praise kink wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world🥴 I would love to see your take on this if this idea interests you, and it’s totally fine if it doesn’t 🥰 it’s always a pleasure to read your work regardless! Have a good one! ✌🏻💕

Thank you very much!! I appreciate that very much 🥹🫶🏻 I can definitely do this!

Support

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Ghost stumbles upon you, after-hours, during a breakdown.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

It was approaching two in the morning. You were running solely on caffeine and nicotine- neither of which were helping your dry eyes or headache. The light of your monitors was the only source in the room, completely enshrouded by darkness as you stared blankly at the screens. You'd hoped it would help you focus, think more clearly, but so far it had only isolated you further, brought nothing but pressure and stress.

It wasn't supposed to be difficult, it was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be easy for you. You'd studied computer technology and engineering for years- built and coded programs for organizations all over the world. You'd worked within the military for nearly a decade, providing the most proficient and reliable support among your similarly-rated peers. You were quite literally an expert, but you didn't feel like it. Not with the unfinished assignment sitting before you.

Laswell, Price, the entirety of 141- they relied on you. They relied heavily on your abilities to guide them through their fieldwork, to do the digging they couldn't reach while on location. Though, as you leaned back in your chair, your lip red and raw with irritation, your back aching, you didn't feel reliable. You felt the familiar sting of failure, of total disappointment.

It bubbled up in your throat, escaping in a series of curses, shoving yourself away from the desk before you wound up damaging thousands of dollars of equipment. You paced, stared, and paced. Your mind swimming with questions, re-thinking every sequence, every key, every exhaustive search you could possibly pull- and still hadn't decrypted the data.

Your hand slammed down on the desk, scattering the pens and piles of paperwork you'd accumulated over the many hours you'd spent stewing in front of the code screen. The cursor blinked at you- waiting, taunting you, filling you with dread.

"Y'alright in here?"

A gruff voice pulled you from your anxious stupor, and you yanked your hand from the desk, gasping sharply. You looked up, finding Ghost at the doorway.

In the dark, you could hardly make out his silhouette, but the outline of his mask was a stark contrast against the pitch-black room.

"Didn't mean t'scare you," He said, taking a few steps forward. "Heard somethin' in here."

You let out a sigh, your heartbeat relaxing back into its regular rhythm.

You'd heard his voice before, usually over the comms, and seen him during briefings, but you'd never spoken in person. You knew he had a reputation for being tough and commanding; it put you on edge watching his looming figure in the darkness. He was undeniably intimidating, especially as he stalked toward you.

You stepped back, letting him around the desk to see your monitors.

"You're up late," He said, examining the screen.

"Trying to decode this shit," You huffed, forgetting about his domineering presence once you refocused on your failure. "It's taking me longer than it should."

"Looks complicated," He replied, his eyes meeting yours briefly.

"It is. It shouldn't be, but it is," You sighed again, sitting down as he looked over your shoulder.

"How long you been at this?"

You ignored his question, leaning in to further examine the code screen.

"It's late. You should sleep, get back to it in the mornin'."

You furrowed your brows, looking over your shoulder to find him closer than expected.

"I don't need sleep," You shook your head. "I need to figure this out. I'm close."

An epiphany sparked in your head- a brute force attack you hadn't yet tried. You quickly typed in the keys, waiting with baited breath as the screen paused.

A flickering script reading 'denied' came across your screen, typed out in front of you for confirmation. Validation that you'd failed, again.

"Fuck!" You shouted, cradling your head in your hands. "I-I can't figure this shit out, I can't do it." Your voice broke, hoarse with strain.

You looked up at him, your eyes now watery with frustration and anger.

"'Ey," He said, leaning forward. "Relax. I dunno much about this shite, but seems you're doin' alright."

You tilted your head. "Laswell needs these documents for Shepherd tomorrow, and I've got nothing to show for it. It'll be my ass getting dismissed. It's not alright."

"Shepherd can wait," He said. "You've saved our arses more than a few times."

"It's not enough."

"It's more than enough. Relax, you're givin' me a bloody headache."

"I can't relax," You looked up at him with blood-shot eyes.

"If anyone can do it, 't's you. Seen you handle worse than this." He gestured to the screen, a flippant motion.

You sucked in a deep breath, nodding slowly. You were more than shocked to hear the comforting words from Ghost. A man revered for his deadly hands, ferocity. The irony made you giggle, short and quiet, though he heard it.

"What's funny?" He asked, moving to lean against the desk.

"Just didn't expect you to be so supportive. Appreciative."

"I see what you do," His gaze was unwavering as he stared you down. "Couldn't do it m'self. Owe you my life, if not more."

"Not quite," You quirked up a brow.

"Yeah- quite. Raid in Las Almas, no other escape routes, Price called you in and we were on the way out in minutes."

You bit your cheek, nodding slowly, your eyes shutting as you digested his words. He was right- you'd done your fair share of evac and location support, never losing a soldier. Regardless of how horribly the assignment was going, you couldn't deny only you had the capacity to complete it.

"Thanks," You nodded, looking up at him. "I'm just in my head, stressed out."

He cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter.

You leaned back, grabbing a cigarette from the nearly-empty pack on the desk, and lighting it up.

"You want one?" You asked, offering him the package.

He took one, offering a quiet, "Cheers."

He lifted the cover of his mask up above his nose- it took every ounce of strength not to immediately watch his lips as he stuck the cigarette between them. Even then, your eyes glanced at the newly-discovered flesh, diverting your gaze when he locked eyes with you.

You inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine coat your lungs, before exhaling into the monitors before you.

"Should get some sleep," He said, standing up.

"Yeah," You nodded, shifting to lean forward. "Yeah, I will. Just a bit longer."

He sighed, bringing his gloved hand down on the keyboard.

"I'll break it in half if I need to," He said, his voice low and threatening.

You swallowed, raising your brows at the unexpected reaction.

"Alright," You huffed.

You stood to your feet, putting your cigarette out on the ashtray beside your mouse. He did the same, arms folding over his chest as he waited for you to leave your station.

His adamant opposition to letting you continue was admirable. Attractive, even. You hadn't anticipated feeling grateful, or happy to have had him find you.

You'd kept your distance from him, though you'd always find your eyes gravitating toward his. He'd already be staring, watching you from across the briefing room. At first, you'd been terrified, wondering if you'd done something to piss him off, but nothing ever came of it. Instead, he'd lift his head to find you, check over his shoulder to look at you.

He found you intriguing, attractive. A brilliant woman; smart, educated, someone he was glad to have on his team. He'd seen the countless hours you put in, the calm tone of your voice every time there was a stress signal from one of the men. You held it together for them- the least he could do was the same for you.

He liked the way your eyes studied the screen, the way you'd chew your lip raw. Though it wasn't in your best interest, he found it alluring. His mind wandered when he'd see you, nothing appropriate at all- only to satisfy the heat that curled itself inside his intestines when he laid his eyes on you.

He remembered seeing you for the first time, wondering who you were: laptop on the desk, pen in hand, bright-eyed and eager to please. Immediately, he'd fabricated images of you in his mind- images that he'd play through during the lonely hours of the night.

"Why are you up?" You asked suddenly.

"Couldn't sleep. Don't sleep much."

You shook your head, "And yet, you're lecturing me." A small smile lifted your lips.

"For your own good," He answered.

"That's interesting," You mumbled.

"Why's that?"

You breathed in, "You've only ever stared me down, don't think we've had a conversation before."

"Y'can say a lot without talkin'," He retorted.

"I wasn't sure whether you wanted to fuck me or kill me," You grinned.

"What's the consensus?"

"Still not sure," You held back a grin.

"Would've killed you by now."

You laughed, "That's not very comforting."

"Should be. Only leaves the former."

He moved closer, standing up straight as he unhooked his legs.

You were pleasantly surprised, though your nerves had been roused from their short slumber. Heat washed over your cheeks, climbing up your spine before returning to the crest of your thighs.

"Think y'could use some stress relief," He said. "Y'seem pent-up."

You pulled your lip between your teeth, your eyes shifting between his. It was tempting, more than your mortal being could possibly resist.

"Maybe," You uttered, your hands twitching with anxiety as he neared you.

He cocked his head, "Maybe ain't an answer."

"Yes," You blurted. "I could. But not if you're taking pity on me."

He chuckled, a sound you'd never heard before from him, though it was somewhat deformed. Amusement and disbelief rather than enjoyment.

"Sweetheart," He cooed, his chest nearly pressed against yours. "It ain't pity. Y'should know better."

"We'll, you're not exactly approachable," You said, tilting your head to meet his gaze. "Haven't had the pleasure of speaking with you before."

He nodded, "S'alright," He said. "Had enough o' watchin' from afar, though."

You breathed out, long and cathartic as it passed your lips. Releasing every worry and anxiety, relieved to be able to focus solely on him- on Ghost.

His hand reached your waist, softly pulling you into him, finally connecting your bodies. You let out a quiet grunt, your hands raised at your sides as you took in the feeling of his body against yours.

"Y'can touch me," He grinned. "I won't bite 'less you ask."

As if you weren't already aroused, soaking your panties, he only made it worse. The heat of his hands on your waist had drawn out any thoughts in your head, his voice so close- so clear in front of you was mesmerizing.

You apprehensively moved your hands to rest on his shoulders, your palms gliding against the taught muscles, another extended sigh as you tried to ignore the burning in your gut. He liked the contact, your small hands searing a brand into his skin.

He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes raking over your face, the face he'd seen in his dreams more than anywhere else. He must've made a pact with the devil, something sacrificed to have you in his hands- finally.

He leaned in, soft lips touching yours. It was fleeting, the softness, before he backed you against the desk with no regard for the equipment on it. Still, his lips held your attention, his tongue gliding between your lips to clash against yours. It was open-mouthed, messy, especially as he lifted you to the desk and bullied himself between your thighs.

You moaned faintly when his hand slid down your side, taking a handful of your ass and squeezing harshly. His other hand worked your shirt off your torso, parting only for a moment when the fabric passed your neck. His hands on your bare skin created a feeling of tightness in your gut- especially as he squeezed and grabbed at you, truly appreciating the curves of your body against him.

To your chagrin, he was still fully clothed, in his fatigues, like he lived in them. Even at two A.M., the man never quit. You weren't complaining; you rather liked the sight of his fitted uniform, especially as it squeezed his forearms and thighs, showing the bulk of muscle and veins beneath tattooed skin.

You were antsy, however, to feel him. All of him, against you.

"Take it off," You whispered against his lips, tugging at his jacket with clenched fists.

"Bossy woman you are," He teased, pulling away as he unbuttoned the shirt.

"I know what I want," You shot back, your eyes now narrowed in on him.

He hummed, satisfied with your answer. "That so?"

You nodded, smug and prideful, a sense of power- you had complete control. Your hands supported your weight behind you, leaning back, watching the show as he stripped from the shirt. It fell off his torso, revealing the toned muscles beneath, and he yanked the other sleeve off with impatience.

Your jaw was slack, looking over him as he neared again. This time, his hand slid up your throat, gripping the delicate area with a firm hold. He forced your eyes to meet his, a noticeable grin on his lips.

"You listen to me, sweetheart," He said, in your face. "And I'll take care o'you. Spread your legs."

You shivered, an audible gasp leaving your lips. The things you'd have done to hear filthy words leave his mouth- the voice that rung in your ears at night, made your pussy flutter. Now, he'd offered his services to you, rather enthusiastically, too, admitting he'd wanted it for a long time. If nothing else made you feel better about your shit progress, he surely could.

He kept eye contact while his hand worked open your pants, pulling them and your panties down your legs with speed and precision. He wasted no time pressing your thighs to your chest, tucking you into an uncomfortable position before kneeling in front of you.

"No thinkin'," He warned. "'Less it's about cummin' on my face."

Your head fell back, groaning softly, lifting back up again only when he pressed his lips to your pussy. Then, you watched with anticipation building in your gut, trembling in your limbs and a heavy ache settling in your womb.

He slid a warm tongue between your folds, a gentle touch you hadn't expected from the brute of a man. He watched you the entire time, took in the sight of your lips parting, sucking in a long breath, shutting your eyes as you basked in the pleasure. He couldn't help but form a grin, his lips engulfing your pussy in an open-mouthed kiss.

His attention moved to your clit, faint licks crossing the sensitive area that coaxed quick jolts from your body. He settled into a rhythm, and your body adjusted accordingly, leaning into the new and overwhelming feeling.

"Yeah, right there," You said, a hushed tone, like you were speaking to yourself.

He grunted in response, another warning.

"Sorry," You said again. "Feels so good." It was a quiet whine.

You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, grab at something, anything that would connect you to him, so you settled for his forearms. Your palm gripped the flesh of his arm, squeezing, just as he did to your thighs.

His tongue expertly traced your clit, circles and delicate licks that made your back arch, opening yourself up for him to taste.

"That's it," He uttered, muffled by your pussy. Even speaking against you made you clench, stare down at him with lust on your face. "There's a good girl."

You exhaled, nodding in agreement, submission to his mouth as he returned to his rhythm, falling in tandem with the heavy breathing leaving your chest. His eyes hadn't left you, watching and studying your expression for every hint of pleasure. He was intent on learning exactly what you like, though it was difficult to discern through the flurry of expressions on your face.

Your brows drawn together, jaw open as you choked down a gasp, breathing heavily into the dark room. He could make out your face, but your silhouette was blackened against the light of the monitors. He could see the swell of your breasts, your thighs, the curve of your waist against the backlight. He could even see your eyes, when you'd drop your head to watch him devour you.

You began to shake, tensing against his mouth when he continued at a consistent pace. He was thorough in every aspect of life- this was no exception. He didn't let up, even when your pussy drooled with cum, instead, he licked it up with his tongue, moaning softly against you at your taste.

He stood to his feet, unbuckling his belt as he stared at you. Your chest heaved, toes curled, leaning back as you watched him. The light danced on his abdomen, highlighting every hill and dip on his torso, the scars that scattered the skin. It was a sight that had your brain resetting, recovering as though you hadn't been covered in a layer of sweat and left breathless from your orgasm.

His cock stood erect when he yanked his trousers down, and he didn't stall any longer. He stalked forward, leaning into you, his hand on the desk behind you as he pushed his cock through the tight barrier of your hymen. He was absorbed, swallowed by soft inner-muscles and velvety walls, slick with your cum and arousal.

He pressed his lips to yours again, not allowing for much deliberation or accommodation- he was far too aroused to wait. You planted your heels against the desk as he thrusted his entire length into you, quickly meeting your cervix with a gentle graze. It made you suck in a sharp breath, and move away from his lips.

You saw his eyes, the look of possession and pure lust in them. You merely stared at each other, a nauseating intimacy while he thrusted inside you, further disturbing your lower stomach with a tightness.

"Oh God," You choked, your hands reaching around his shoulders, clinging to him. "Don't stop- don't fucking stop."

His hand reached around you, holding you against him, the other gripping your thigh with a bruising constraint.

"Fuckin' Christ, you're tight, sweetheart," He breathed in your ear. "You all wet for me?"

You nodded, breathing an enthusiastic yes into his ear, clenching at his back with your fingers. Your nails dug into the slick flesh, feeling his muscles move as his hips tilted back and forth into you.

All you could smell, hear was him. The scent of his heavy body soap, like pine, mixed with the cigarette you'd offered him earlier. His breathing in your ear, heavy pants as he relished in the tightness of you- the slippery walls encroaching on his cock.

"Such a good fuckin' girl," He mumbled against your neck, his lips dragging against your skin. "Say you're a good girl," His voice rumbled through his chest. "Fuck me- all for me."

It was haze-inducing, incoherent mumbles, quiet gasps and sobs as you clung to him. It worsened when his fingers played your clit, sliding between your bodies to rub over the sensitive spot.

"I'm a good girl," You gasped. "I'm your good girl."

"'At's right, sweetheart- takin' me nice and deep."

It didn't take long to clench around his cock, another wave of nauseating pleasure that rendered you absolutely useless as he drove into you.

"Fuckin' hell," He stuttered.

You'd constricted his cock, pulsating around him with every contraction, nearly sobbing into his shoulder when he continued with his thrusts.

He finally pulled out, tugging on his cock as he released his cum over your stomach. He exhaled sharply, before gathering his composure.

You grimaced as you stood to your feet, trying to clean yourself off as best you could.

You watched him shrug his jacket back on.

"Get some rest," He nodded once, gesturing to the doorway. "I'll check on you tomorrow."

"Is 'check on me' an innuendo? Should I wear my good underwear?" You grinned, pulling your pants back over your backside.

"I'd shag you if y'had on a bin bag, sweetheart."

"You're sweeter than you let on," You teased, laughing.

"Not for most," He cocked his head. "Guess you're lucky."

"Well, thank you," You smiled.

It was genuine. A distraction, however unexpected and unusual, that did make you almost forget about the assignment.

"I'll be around," He paused. "If you're feelin' like takin' your frustrations out."

"Goodnight, Lieutenant."

He walked off with a short nod. You paused for a moment; the temptation to curl yourself up at your desk and continue your assignment was gnawing at you. You clenched your jaw, took a deep breath in when you recalled Ghost's words, and finally decided to turn off the monitors.

[she-whatshername]

A Sleepy Garrick Story

Taken from my Sleepy Tyrrish Men Headcanon featuring our boy Garrick. I love that you all enjoyed that Headcanon and many of you found so much love for the rune earrings and angst for that last part revolving around nightmares. So, I decided to write it out of my head because its been on loop, ya’ll.

Also, the usual ‘I am a tired human who is writing late at night vs sleeping’ so spelling errors and lack of proofreading is a part of the storytelling at this point

The rune earrings came off again. It was what you assumed as your mind began to stir with awake, causing your eyelids to slowly blink open to the darkness of the room. There was just enough light from the mage lights that hovered above the courtyard to illuminate some light into the space from the window. You were able to see a few feet in front of you to the small chair that currently held your clothes, the desk, even the square desk mirror that sat on top of the wooden surface. You’d have to remind Garrick to close the blinds fully next time you find yourself entangled in his sheets.

Its been about a week since you found yourself regularly sleeping over in Garricks room. It was a bit larger than your dorm room, perks of being apart of leadership and a third year you assumed. It also was in a rather good spot on campus as it was close to the stairs and you could easily get to your morning classes. And, of course, Garrick was here which made it all worth it. Even if you did find yourself crammed on the side of the bed while he sprawled out on his back next to you.

Sleeping with Garricks as great. But actually sleeping with Garrick…it had its downsides and upsides. Fighting for space in his bed, lack of pillows and his rather deep snoring, total downsides. But, being smooshed up next to him and tangled in his arms, being kissed to sleep each night, and the many times when he didn’t stop kissing you goodnight, upsides indeed. And, he made you a pair of earrings that were warded to block out sounds so you could sleep peacefully next to his rumbling snoozes, it was sweet. It was almost like a gift someone would give their partner. Unless all the girls who also slept with him also got a set. You’d have to investigate that in the morning. And, no matter the outcome it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to fall any further for Garrick than you already have. It didn’t matter if he saw other people, you were fine with it. If you told yourself that you’d believe it soon enough. In the meantime you decided to begin to pad your hand on the bed to feel for your maybe not special pair of earrings so you too could get back to sleep.

Before your hand pressed against the mattress you heard the hitching of Garricks throat behind you, and not a moment later you saw in the reflection of the desk mirror his body become upright in the bed, gasping as if his head had been held underwater. You didn’t move as you laid on your side for fear of startling him further, your eyes transfixed on the desk mirror.

You’d never seen Garrick scared before. He rarely showed emotions outside of his usual easy going nature or his hardened section leader persona. He was tough, but also kind. But this, Garrick was none of those things. He looked terrified. His shaking hand pressed flat against his chest over his heart as he closed his wide eyes in an attempt to steady his breathing. Each exhale more and more controlled. While you couldn’t hear him, you began to interpret the words he was silently repeating to himself over and over.

It’s not real.

The flames.

They’re not real.

They didn’t burn us.

We’re alive.

Xaden’s alive.

Bodhi’s alive.

Imogen’s alive.

Liam’s alive.

You closed your eyes shut, trying your hardest not to make a sound as you swallowed a lump in your throat. You felt as if you had stumbled upon something you shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t be here for this. Yet, you found yourself wanting to turn to him, to hold him in your arms and tell him yourself he’s okay.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there with your eyes closed. A minute? An hour? You hadn’t yet drifted off to sleep but you mind was pulled to the present as you felt a hand caress your bare shoulder and lips at the base of your neck.

“What-“ your secret was out before you could close your lips.

You could feel the smile of Garrick as he chuckled behind you, “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Well-“

“How else should I act when wake up and see you next to me? Can’t keep my hands off you even in my sleep.”

What in the hells? Was this even the same Garrick?

His tone was back to normal. Cocky attitude too. How easily he was able to slip into his former, shamelessly flirty self.

This wasn’t the first time this happened. Him waking you up late at night with kisses to your back, your side, anywhere where he could find bare skin. All with the promise of making the rousing awake worth your while and honestly, it was worth it every time.

But now, it clicked. He did wake you up almost every night wanting some type of love and affection, was it just his astonishingly high libido or was it all due to the nightmares?

You were now being coaxed on your back with Garrick hovering over you. His lips busy kissing your neck, shoulder, chest. Slowly working his way down. His hands reached for the sides of your hips, and you felt it. The tremble of his fingertips when he touched you.

This was enough. Your hands wrapped around him quickly, securing his head and pressing him into your chest and stomach. He froze temporary, you could feel his breath getting caught as well.

“Uh, care to tell me what’s going on? This a new kink or something?”

“Just,”. You found yourself struggling for a moment before you resigned yourself to him, “Just want to hold you for a bit. Is that okay?”

“There are plenty of things I could be doing to you right now instead of - oh, fuck”

“But I want this. Just this.” You responded while your nails scratched at his scalp between his curly hair. Garrick mumbled noises of approval as you continued your touch.

You held him in silence for a few moments. Your one hand massaging at his scalp sand the other still drawing circles against his shoulder.

“I like this.” You finally said, “I could do this to you every night…if you wanted of course.”

He was quiet, you almost thought he had fallen asleep before you heard his voice, small and softened, “Every night?”

You leaned forward slightly to put your cheek against his head, “every night you’d have me in your bed, Garrick. Whenever you’d need me. I can be there.”

Another smile against your skin, “if you’d have me.”

“I will always have you.” Garrick answered, his tone lifting slightly, “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

It was your turn to smile and you went back to playing with his hair until Garrick eventually fell back to sleep. Now I’m top of you this time.

Again, there were always downsides and upsides to loving Garrick. A sore back in the morning and up close snores. Downside. Being there for Garrick. Giving him a moment of deserved calm, care and peace?

Always, always an upside.

But, you had to ask

“Garrick?”

“Mmmm?”

“How many sets of earrings have you made since your first year?”

“Two. Second set incase you ever lose the first ones.”

[gemsofgreece]

Hello! Do you (and other Greeks) find "Hellenic polytheism" an acceptable term for the religion worshipping the ancient Greek gods? If not, what would you want people to call it instead? I feel strongly that I would not be able to change my belief itself, but I definitely want to be respectful in what I call it and my other actions

Hellenic Polytheism should be fine. You can introduce yourself as a Hellenic Polytheist.

People have a bit of a hard time with this hell of terms (get it? he he), so I am gonna create a mini-lexicon. It's not targeted to you in specific to use all these, it's just for whoever is interested to clear this up in their minds.

A very hellenic lexicon

Hellás = 1) the official term for Greece and the only one ever used by Greeks themselves (there is no equivalent of "Greece" in Greek), 2) a historical ancient region in central mainland Greece where southeast Epirus and southwestern Thessaly meet and where a lot of Achilles' soldiers supposedly originated from, 3) the administrative region of central mainland Greece during the Byzantine Empire

Hellenic = anything Greek (like you may say "this is an american movie", that's why you can use hellenic polytheism, because it means "greek religion of many gods"). And by anything Greek, we mean ANYTHING. Care to know what the "Greek Orthodox Church" is called in Greek?

You guessed it! Hellenic Orthodox Church...! So you see, how when foreigners say some things like "i'm hellenic, hellene, hellenist" like "what hellenic are you? coffee? bank? Christian?" You know?

Hellen = the mythological progenitor of the Greeks according to Hesiod. Not to be confused with Helen.

Héllene = a Greek by descent, nationality and / or ethnicity. And if we are being totally accurate, it's a Greek male. I don't actually know how it is pronounced in English but ideally keep the last e silent. (By the way we do not pronounce that h in the beginning in all these words for the last 1500 years or so.... just saying.)

Héllenes = the Greeks, just men or mixed. The last e is NOT silent.

English does not have gendered nouns but Greek does so technically there is a seperate word for Greek women but I don't know if this is transferable to English. If we could do it in theory and by following the trasliteration style of the Hellene, it should be something like:

*Hellenís / Hellenidae or Hellenides = Greek woman / women*

Hopefully this explains why random foreigners identifying as "Hellenes" is exremely problematic.

Helladic = pertaining to the geography and territory of Hellas and whatever happens strictly within its borders

Hellenisation = spread of Greek influence and culture, it is also used for cases of Greek assimilation in ancient times

Hellenistic = 1) something being characterized by particular Greek influence, 2) referring to the era after the Classical period and before the Roman period

Hellenicá = 1) the Greek language, 2) (infrequent) Greek matters, documented topics about the Greeks

Hellenism = The complete Greek culture, civilization and nationhood, the essence of being Greek.

Hellenist = 1) a specialist in the study of Greek language, literature, culture, or history, or an admirer of the Greek culture and civilization, 2) a person who adopted the Greek customs, language and culture during the Hellenistic period, 3) now, the English Wiktionary also adds the "a follower and practitioner of Hellenic religion" <- which one of the two??? XD, clearly following the trend of western classicist circles. In the Greek Wiktionary for the same exact term (Ελληνιστής) that last interpretation does not exist and I can guarantee you it is officially rejected. Here's why: the suffixes -ist and -ism (as well as all suffixes here) are suffixes of Greek origin and they signify that someone is something or is passionate and dedicated to something on the superlative or very very earnestly, essentially. So when someone says they are a hellenist, they are supposed to be dedicated or charmed by anything that makes something hellenic, not to be professional cherry pickers. Of course, everyone is allowed their preferences, however you can't be interested in a super specific / niche thing like a religion mostly practiced 2000-3500 years ago and simultaneously show complete disregard and ignorance on literally everything else about this civilization, history and its living people and call yourself a hellenist. It tears the word apart. By the way this is not targeted at you. You are here asking about it, wanting to do the right thing. I am referring to this thing happening in this forum that @alatismeni-theitsa 's Anon was complaining about; they obsess over the ancient religion and they hate everything Greek post the AD mark. That's not being a Hellenist. That's not a Hellenism forum. That's the exact opposite in fact. Very few people can correctly claim the term "hellenist".

BONUS: Philhellene is kind of synonym to "hellenist" and it means "friend / lover of the Hellenes and all things hellenic". But again it can surely be misused. Not all self-proclaimed Philhellenes were ones indeed. Some, like Lord Byron, were Philhellenes through and through, on the other hand.

Of course, one definitely does not have to go through what Lord Byron and other great Philhellenes of the 19th century went through to prove they are a Hellenist or a Philhellene! My point is that very very few people can correctly claim the identity of a Philhellene or a Hellenist.

Therefore, "Hellenic polytheist" is just fine.

[bruciemilf]

Hello! I would like to ask, when did Ororo/Storm and Wolverine/Logan had a romantic relationship? My only exposure to X men is through the live action movies so please forgive my ignorance, I only wish to understand attraction of this otp of yours.

Heya, glad you asked!! I’m not a comic reader, but, I do know they were romantically involved/heavily hinted at in the comic book medium.

But if you’re more familiar with the animations like I am, (Evolution, the 97 series, the original 90s series as well) it’s also heavily implied there.

But!

As always, we do have to keep in mind that media isn’t tailored for a singular audience in mind. We’re not a hive mind. What I might interpret as romantic could be platonic for someone else. Which is totally fine.

What I always found so interesting about Marvel as a franchise, is that canon, structurally, is so ubiquitous. You can’t deny something happened, but you can also say it didn’t. Both versions are true.

It just matters if you, as the person who watches this material, determine it’s important enough to exist, and how much, and why.

Ororo and Logan were never meant to be the big ship. Mostly because love triangles sell very well. But I ship them for a number of reasons.

Ororo understands Logan in a very specific way, just like he understands her in a way she needs.

They both have strong parent vibes for the kids, and they deeply respect one another.

She’s one of the few people he can be vulnerable with, and she doesn’t want to change anything about him.

X-Men, even without awareness, has a main belief in their system: To be loved is to be accepted.

[matrixbearer2024]

Since the poll is practically over and the outfit's largely been decided, I'll be dropping the first post to the strip challenge in a couple hours on my Ford Blog @gftimelord to christen it HAHAHHA- (psst go bother him it'll be funny HAHHAHAH) Thanks for the interaction everybody, I only hope to deliver. Here's the first drabble to start it off with since I am pairing every drawing with a story sequence as promised. You could probably think of this as my interpretation for some kind of continuation to Ford's route in "Swooning Over Stans" by @gfdatingsim since I've genuinely been non-stop playing that game since it's recommendation to me. I will balance med proper and my delulu if it's the last thing I do HAHAHAHA-

Reply to this post as well if you want to be pinged for whenever this challenge updates!

I Accept Your Challenge!

(Stanford Pines x Reader)

After you heard a new challenge becoming trendy among couples you decide to try it on a certain Stanford Pines; just... you didn't exactly explain to him what the challenge was.

Maybe his competitiveness was a good thing in this case. You at least got a bloody good show out of his cluelessness.

Another slow summer day and you were in the living room of the mystery shack alongside the Pines as they went about doing whatever. Navigating your relationship with a certain scientist definitely somewhat of a learning curve but you digressed. Similar to Dipper and Mabel, you'd receive post cards from the twins about their seafaring adventures; your mail just came with additional special letters from your beloved. All of which you'd neatly stowed away in a bag that you always had with you, no use keeping it at home when you were rarely there.

Often traveling for a nomadic lifestyle was serene and fun at times, but you found yourself missing this place. It felt more like a home to you than your own place did in the couple weeks you'd stuck around after your car got smashed into the side of the log cabin.

Who knew that the same man who totaled your car one day would be the same adorable nerd you now called your lover?

It felt a bit like those romance dramas Stan liked to watch but you quickly dismissed that thought. Fairytales weren't real, fate isn't exactly something you believed in either. Stories of princesses finding their prince charmings were mostly smoke and mirrors, things you'd tell a child to give them hope of a better world than reality.

In gravity falls however... you quickly learned that nothing was truly impossible. Never say never in this small town of Oregon.

You sat on the floor next to Dipper and Mabel as they boredly flipped through TV channels; books, papers and crayons littered about around the three of you. The glass danced with colors from the rapidly flipping images while the twins struggled to find anything even remotely entertaining to watch, you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander from the boredom.

You and Ford spent quite a bit of time since you'd arrived at the beginning of the week, frankly you'd made the trip as soon possible when Stan shot you a message that they'd finally docked to spend the summer with the kiddos. You hoped it wasn't all that obvious how much you missed Stanford, but you didn't really need to worry when he was the one who immediately swamped you up in a hug the second you were out of your car. It's only been two years thus far since you've known the man but Stanley and Mabel insisted that you stay with him in his room, you didn't know why they were so adamant until you saw the state of the man's living quarters.

A whole day was spent with the both of you furnishing and cleaning the said room because of that but neither of you complained, most of the time was spent goofing off anyway.

Now... you were wondering where Ford was, not to mention what he was doing. Was he down in the lab tinkering again? You didn't want to disturb him, but you really wanted to find him. Any time spent apart didn't feel like time used to it's full capacity, even if you did enjoy the company of the other Pines; it just wasn't the same.

At some point, you were bored enough to not necessarily care whether you'd be disturbing Ford's work or not when you went down to the lab. It was just last summer when he taught you how to get down there, as well as spilling more about his past. All of which you simply listened to unless he asked anything; it was better to listen and attempt to understand than say or do something that would make it worse.

Seems like he really wanted to get it off his chest too, be transparent with you; something you appreciated.

You were shaken out of your headspace when you heard the rustling of boxes from the lab, as well as some hushed but frustrated cursing. You didn't really recall a time Ford swore unless he was legitimately ticked off, the man made a valiant effort not to compared to his twin.

But they both had sailor mouths anyhow even if it was fitting.

"Ford? Are you down here?"

"Ah-! [Y/N]! What- what are you doing down here?"

You moved closer to him in an attempt to see what he was doing, even if the man looked a bit rattled to be found like this by you.

"What are you doing?"

"I asked first my dear."

Ford chuckled, shifting to hide something behind his back. You pouted at him and crossed your arms. He couldn't help but smile at how cute you looked doing that.

"Was looking for you, Dipper and Mabel are bored watching TV upstair anyway... sooooo- what are you doing?"

You smiled when Ford returned your inquisitiveness with a small laugh, showing you what he held in his hand. A pair of goggles?

"What's that for?"

"I was attempting to sort through which of my belongings I could still use among the ones I wish to discard. Inadvertently I ended up finding these, I think I could still make use of them."

You tilted your head at him as a silent prompt to continue, it took every bit of control from Ford not to laugh again. You looked like a curious puppy, though he figured he shouldn't say that outright.

"It's simply among the items I collected and kept with me through my time in the multiverse. Protective eyewear can be useful for many things."

"Huh, if you have that— does it mean you still have the rest of the outfit?"

Now it was your turn to think Ford was being cute, he just wordlessly blinked at you in surprise. Was your request really that odd? You'd barely seen him in any other outfit combinations, of course you'd be curious.

"I—... I think I do? Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you'd still be able to rock it like you used to?"

"'Used to'? Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's been a couple years... why don't you try it on again?"

Ford laughed once again from your teasing, the way you sassily tried to goad him on was entertaining in it's own right. He was a bit on the fence about the whole outfit however, especially due to the memories associated with it.

It's not that bad compared to some things he'd found though... maybe he could indulge you.

"Hm..."

"I-I mean, if you really don't want to—"

Your panicked stammering was cut short when a warm palm cupped your cheek, meeting Stanford's eyes as he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. He could feel your skin heat in up in his hand, hiding a cheeky smile in your hair as he held you there.

"I'll show it to you... as soon as I can find the rest of the outfit."

Ford couldn't help but smile wider when your cheerful laugh rang out; it's the best sound to ever have graced his ears in the time he's been alive. A bit surprising given how many things he's been exposed to, but he couldn't name another chime so pleasant.

"I'll hold you to that Ford."

"And I accept your challenge my dear."

YEAAAAH HERE IT ISSSS- TEXT THING CUZ WE NEED INTRODUCTION-

[hannaloony]

Hi! I love LOVE your art style and the beautiful colors you use! I would love to write a fic based on your recent 3 part angst art of Edwin being hurt because of a past demon! (I am also a lover of hurt/comfort 😁) My asks are:

1) is this okay with you? (With credit to your art, of course! Also totally fine if you'd rather I not publish anything)

And, if youre okay with that, 2) did you have any particular details/interpretations that you would want included in that type of fic?

Thank you so much for sharing your amazing work and ideas!

Hi!

I am incredibly pleased 🥹 That's very nice of you. Thank you so much!

Yes, of course! I will be very happy to read your fanfic based on this story. And if you’re okay with it, I also want to share it here on my blog, because I know that there’re people who are interested in your fics. Since I am always open to all interpretations, you are free to do whatever you want with these pieces.

Thank you so much for your interest and oh my gosh, I'm so glad this little series inspired you!

Have a nice and beautiful day 💖💖

[desceros]

me: [looks at calendar, gets a wicked idea, looks into the camera] happy springtime, turtle fam! who's ready to celebrate the season?

...mating season, that is. hehe. [dodges the tomatoes]

so! i had the idea that it would be super fun to have a community-wide event where we all have a prompt and then everyone fills it in their own way.

...i then decided all the prompts i came up with were too good not to use, but also none of them were Good Enough to use exclusively, so i changed my mind and the prompt is now just MATING SEASON. with a few suggestions at the bottom of this post if you're looking for some.

since spring is coming upon us, i hereby invite everyone to join in the vernal festivities... which in turtle parlance, of course, means only one thing: write, draw, whatever your version of "mating season", then join me on march 1 to post it with the tag #TMNTSpringShellebration. we then shall browse the fine selection of our mutual artistic efforts, and basically just have a good time as a community.

here are the prompts i came up with as starters-slash-things-to-include if you're looking for a place to get started. feel free to use these at will, or use them to come up with something of your own:

“Please don’t make me explain this. It’s humiliating as is.”

Oops, Looks Like Mating Season Came A Week Early This Year

“…In all of my mating seasons, this has never happened before.”

“I told you not to come by! It’s mating season!”

Probably should have expected it to be different now that he’s not going through it alone.

Because of Shenanigans, you have to wait. Wait… Wait… ok now.

They’re not the right person for mating season… but they’re the one who’s here, so…

“Show me where it hurts."

so yeah! see you all on march 1 for the, uh, spring shellebration. party popper emoji

questions i imagine will be popping up and i hope will clear up here before my askbox swells beyond capacity under the cut to keep this post from being Way Too Long. also it's really not that serious it's just an excuse to write slash draw for everyone Please Don't Take This Thing Too Seriously It's Not That Serious:

"can i participate?" yes! it's literally just an invitation to do something. nothing fancier than that. no need to be following me or in my friend group or whatever.

"can i write (insert fic idea here)?" yep! so long as it's related to the idea of mating seasons, it flies. reader insert? hell yea. oc? hell yeah. solo turtle and his favorite pillow? go for it.

"can i draw (insert art idea here)?" yep! uh. i know tumblr has the cops watching for sin bin material, but you art people know how to deal with that. and if you don't, uh, ask the other art people. im just a feral cat in a trench coat

"how do i participate?" write/draw/collect songs for/whatever. then, on march 1, post it and tag it #TMNTSpringShellebration. also, for funsies, keep it hush hush what you're working on so we can all be super shocked when the day comes! except, y'know, that you're planning on joining in. totally do that.

"when do i post it?" march 1. whenever on that day. waves hands around in a vague gesture at time zones not mattering. seriously don't take this so seriously it's just me wanting to create cool shit with my friends with a little more structure to it

"does it have to be horny?" i mean. it's an event about mating season. so by definition it's going to be at least a little horny. but however you interpret it is cool. even if it's just. idk. leo sitting sweatily in a chair looking longingly at a glass of water bc he's thirstier than usual. be smart about things, people. i'm not your dad.

"which tmnt verse is this for?" whichever one you want it to be for!! rise! bayverse! 2007! your fan iteration! your friend's fan iteration! your mortal enemy's fan iteration! yes!

"will you be reblogging everything?" absolutely not, but this isn't an event About Me. i am incidental to the thing. it's about Us. coming together as a community. for horny turtles. puts my hands on your shoulders. do it for you. for your friends. for the community.

[somerandomdudelmao]

i was writing this all out in the tags of one of your recent updates (part 9 of 'donatello') when i realized i might as well just send it to you directly before i hit tag limit. (i hope you don't mind haha) this recent comic really reminded me of a concept that i've seen in your work that i haven't seen commented on a lot (though i could be wrong.)

casey jr and donatello's relationship as you've portrayed it is interesting in a number of ways. one i've been thinking about recently is the aspect of physical touch, and how you use that to represent the underlying themes/ideas behind their dynamic (and the story as a whole).

in the series, donnie is generally the least physical of his brothers, in that he prefers to be the one to initiate contact. (as a fellow autistic, i relate to this on a visceral level /lighthearted.) however, in your portrayal, this rule bends for casey's sake.

you've been setting up casey to follow in donatello's metaphorical footsteps for a while now, with this coming to fruition (to an extent) in recent storylines.

but going back a bit further. there's this major theme of... i guess i would call it 'responsibility?' that has been weaved through the story from... basically, day one.

in the first comic, his conversation with f!leo following leo's brief foray as a nugget (one of my favorite lines from this series overall is "...and leo-nugget." amazing, genuinely), casey admits to him that it was scary being responsible for someone that could get hurt so easily.

in one of the following chapters, we see the question asked: 'but who is there to save you?' (this chapter being a bit of a microcosm of the theme/story as a whole haha.)

though it was a chapter i had originally assumed was just for funsies and angst opportunities, i now realize i was wrong (though, i don't know exactly how intentional you were being with all of this, so i could be missing the mark here.) it actually sets up his arc rather nicely -- with casey being the one to save donatello when he was injured/knocked unconcious.

now, bringing this all back around to the original intent of this ask: how physical touch is used to represent their narrative dynamic (is that a thing? 'narrative dynamic'? am i just making shit up right now? whatever its fine /rehtorical)

taking everything in account, i want to return to a specific moment that really struck me in the comics leading up to donatello's death. it's the time where the resistance is being attacked, and donnie, despite being sick, goes out and uhhh... extirpates the problem (its always fun to see donnie go apeshit with dangerous weaponry /positive.)

during his dramatic reveal and attack, casey is by his side, clutching onto him not to cling, but to physically support him (at least, that's how i think that moment was supposed to be interpreted? i could be totally wrong here.)

i can't help but feel this is emblematic of the larger themes at play here-- i.e., casey's arc in relation to donatello.

i can't help but find it interesting how donatello, backbone of the resistance--

(despite his soft shell... which is why him no longer wearing his battle shell when he got sick was actually symbolic foreshadowing of-- *sound of gunshots*)

[editors note: i'm gonna stop myself right there, before this goes from ungodly long to "will break your dash and ask box if allowed to continue further"]

-- and certified plot mechanic (oh, so that's why he named it convenient plot-twist serum... finally, the mystery has been solved /joking /lighthearted), who is a very independent/self-sufficient character, allows casey jr to subvert his rules with casual touch. enough so, that when he is so weak that he can barely stand, he trusts casey jr to keep him upright.

out of everyone, he trusts casey.

casey jr, who, at the very beginning of the comic, saved donatello's life, physically carrying him back to the base. and casey jr, the one who, now, has rescued donatello from a fate worse than death, only to once again bring him back to safety.

(...can you tell i'm a little bit obsessed with your comic? lmao)

[also to note those most recent panels: a return to the "norm," with casey clinging to donatello's side, also providing a nice parallel. i know it's because he is very much reunited with his uncle who has been dead for two years, but c'mon. let me have this /joking.)]

anyway, i hope this made sense, and if you did manage to get through my pretentious (and probably somewhat far-fetched) rambles about the "symbolic narrative significance of touch" in a fanwork about the teenage mutant ninja turtles (/lighthearted), may i just say: i am in love with your work, and can only aspire to tell a story as engaging, heartfelt, and clever as the one you have woven.

you are a blessing to this fandom, and i am so excited to see where you go with this story.

I have to say that I didn't specifically do the mental planning for all of this. Most of this theme is simply because I do what I feel will be right. It's more of an intuitive desire than a prescribed plan, so it was pretty surprising to me to see this thought actually being formulated haha

Thank you:>