#but also like....please come talk arty to me

[deadlydelicious]

God I did my whole first term masters theory on the Degenerate Art Exhibit so this is a special interest area of mine that gets me fired up.(and its why I am so aggressively pro ‘absolute art’ (aka the idea that anything is art) and so anti ‘modern art is bad’) because no fucking joke - ‘modern art is bad and useless’ is core fascist ideology. its literally one of their first building blocks facists lay down to route out ‘undesirables’ when taking over a culture.

So the Degenerate Art in Nazi Germany was both a label handed out by the Ministry of Propeganda against certain artists, and an actual exhibition staged by the Nazis. The exhibition toured over the years, but the first was held in 1937, and in the years leading up to it, the ministry of propeganda seized THOUSANDS of artworks. People talk about the Nazis burning books and stealing art, but they tend to think of the stolen art in terms of the Nazi plunder (aka hi-value art pieces being stolen from Jewish families or invaded countries and being distributed to party officals) but they forget that the Nazi's stole and destroyed thousands of artworks from living artists because they either saw the artists or the subject of the artwork itself as 'entartet' (degenerate). Officals from Goebbels Minstry of Propeganda oversaw the removal of hundreds of works of art from museums across the invaded territories throughout the war, and the raids of artists studios to steal and destroy art and arrest artists. Some of what wasn't destroyed was exhibited in the Degenerate Art Exhibit.

The exhbition was held in 1937 in Munich, and it was essentially the art equivalent of a 'freak show', as in ‘come look at these degenerate examples of art’, or ‘come look at the art made by degenerates’, to show Germans the stupid frivolous nature of art and build their case that modern artists were an economic drain and a danger to the pure ideal of Germany. The Nazis also hosted another exhibit across the street at the same time called the Great German art exhibition, which held all the neoclassical style art create by the Nazis offical artists, to show good Germans what proper art was.

Now why they showed the art is for a couple of reasons. You have to keep in mind that pre-nazi Weimar Germany was sort of a cultural hub for modern artists, so there were a lot of them, and it was also a country expiriencing MASSIVE economic issues, so the goal was to make these artists feel like the enemy - to say modern art was expensive and ridiculous. It was also importantly a move to try and silence a large portion of artists who were VERY traumatised by WW1 and were trying to depict that trauma through art, which the Nazi's hated because it ruined the image of the 'strong but wronged' German soldier they were trying to push in an effort to kick start their hostile takeover of Europe. Artists like Kathë Kollwitz creating memorials depicting grieving parents rather than matryed heros, or Ernst Balach depicting WW1 soldiers as emaciated terrified young boys huddling in the shroud of death didn't really back up Hitlers vision of the great German Ubermensch. Images and ideas that were seen to weaken the image and integrity of Germany and were therefore a threat to the powerful German state.

A lot of the artists who had their work seized spent the rest of the war being closely monitored by Goebbels men, with their ability to purchase art supplies or create art almost entirely denied, and some of them were arrested as political prisoners.

The V&A museum has a PDF of the full inventory of degenerate art avalibile online here

and I highly urge people to explore the work of the artists who had their work siezed, artists like Ernst Barlach, Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler, Karl Schwesig, Otto Dix, Emil Nolde, and of course Kathë Kollwitz (who may or may not be my favourite artist of all time). They had their legacies destroyed by the actions of a fascist state, and they deserve for their art to be admired and remembered. As artists, legacy is often everything. Disrespect a Nazi today by honoring the legacy and voice of someone they wanted you to forget

Stop using the word degenerate to mean horny challenge

[skaters-art-blog]

Don't let go!!

Please expand the image for better quality static!

This is some more art for me and @eternalduos Relativity Falls AU: Through the Static to the Stars! Here you can see where part of that name comes from!

If you wanna learn more about how the portal works in this AU and the portal incident as it happens here, its below the cut!

Some theory long ago said that the reason Gravity Falls TV shows are so weird is that they are actually broadcasts from other dimensions, leaking into this one. My co-conspirator Artie Eternalduos came up with this beautiful analogy to explain the whole idea.

If a prison has no escape routes, but it has plumbing, then it doesn't actually have no escape routes. Imagine the Nightmare Realm as the prison in this instance, and the TV broadcasts are the pipes. Dipper is not some crazy physicist like Ford was, hes just a film major. Bill has made many different portal designs over the years to compensate for the technology level around them. Ford and McGucket's portal was probably the most stable, but that doesn't mean some of those other ideas wouldn't've worked. So Bill comes up with, and Dipper makes, a portal that utilizes the POWER OF TELEVISION!

Because this portal is the equivalent of squeezing through the pipes as opposed to building a door, its very unstable. If it stays open too long its prone to causing blackouts that kill its own power and shuts itself off.

When Dipper is at his lowest and is alone, Mabel is also feeling at her lowest and is alone. The difference being, Mabel can't get a job anywhere and is about to become homeless, so she takes a chance and drives all the way from Hollywood to Gravity Falls in the hopes that Dipper will take her in. When she arrives, however, she finds that Dipper is clearly in a worse state than she is. She tries to get him to talk to her, but he's suspicious of her presence since he didn't ask for her help. Dipper finally says, "If I tell you whats going on, will you just leave?" Mabel agrees, not intending to leave, just to figure out whats going on.

Dipper than takes her to the basement, and shows her the portal, telling her everything, but Mabel thinks hes gone crazy. She responds with the classic "I believe that you believe that" and Dipper gets so frustrated with her, trying to get her to leave like the last person he told, that he turns on the portal on purpose to prove himself right. This is of course quite a stupid idea and results in Mabel getting scared and more shouting at each other and spewing hurtful words, before Dipper is backed up close to the portal, and something reaches out from the Dimensional Static, finds purchase on Dipper and attempts to pull him back through, which results in the art above!

Eventually Dipper's grip slips and he is sucked into the portal and the act of sending someone through the portal is enough to overload it and cause another blackout. Leaving the portal powerless and leaving Mabel alone. She'll then spend the next 30 years trying to get it going again, causing frequent town-wide blackouts in the process!

If you read all of this, thank you!! There's so much more to Dipper that I didn't even mention and so much to this au, me and artie are so so so excited to share it with you!!

[judeable-brainrot]

art and patrick helping eachother get off when their hormones r going crazy because of testosterone.. yk like bestfriends do!!🤗

YUM.

imagine they start at Mark Rebellato, both horny teens but now it’s exaggerated ten fold! Patrick comes home to Art whimpering and humping his pillow on his bed, desperately trying to get off but nothing has been able to satiate him.

Patrick can feel himself get wet INSTANTLY at the sight and he quickly shuts the door to announce himself (he locks it also…) Art jumps up, pulling his covers over his lower body to shield himself, cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink. “um! hey!” he squeaks out, obviously embarrassed. Patrick sets his stuff down. “hey…sorry. are you okay?”

Art nods furiously. “yup! yup, all good here!!” Patrick sits on his bed across from Art. “are you sure? you can talk to me Artie..” Art blushes again and pulls his knees away from his chest. “it’s just…T man..it’s making me like, crazy horny. and…nothing is working..” Art’s voice is defeated and shaky from embarrassment, his eyes never meeting Patrick’s as he speaks. Patrick watches him, pity and lust swirling in his stomach as he shifts on the bed. “yeah..yeah, i understand that. it’s crazy..” they sit in silence for a moment before Patrick speaks again. “would you..maybe like some help?”

it’s a whisper, so quiet it could barely be heard. but Art hears it. “you…what?” he stutters. Patrick shifts on the bed. “well like…maybe you need help from another person to really..satisfy yourself..” he swallows deeply because he knows what he’s proposing is going to change things but he wants it. needs it, even. Art is blushing and lost in thought, quietly squeezing his thighs together even at the thought. after a few moments he speaks, “o-okay..”

Patrick looks up, a little shocked. “yeah?” Art nods, not trusting his own voice right now. Patrick shifts. “alright um….cool. can i…can i touch you?” Art nods again. “yeah just..don’t laugh at me, please..” Patrick moves over to Art’s bed, sitting on the edge and placing a hand out on his knee. “never.” he reassures. Art nods, cheeks and ears still pink. “cool. okay um..how do we…?” Patrick chuckles. “well..first you have to remove the covers..”

Art takes a shaky breath before pulling down the covers to expose his bare lower body. he keeps his knees pulled up to this chest, effectively shielding his lower half. Patrick gently squeezes his knee. “can i see you?” Art fidgets and nods, squeezing his eyes shut and slowly parting his legs. Patrick’s mouth waters at the sight of Art’s wet slit and his elongated clit. “wow…” Art whimpers softly.

slowly Patrick reaches out a hand and runs a finger up his folds. Art gasps and grips the sheets, legs instinctively closing over his wrist. “is that okay?” Art nods. “y-yes..” Patrick gently coaxes his legs back open and does the same motion, stopping at his clit to take it in two fingers and begin to jerk it slowly.

Art’s whole body shudders and he falls back against the sheets. “hooooolly fuuuuuuuck..” Patrick smiles, shifting so he can rub himself against his heel tucked under him. “yeah..? you like that?” Art nods. “god yes..oh my god..”

Patrick continues like this for a while, rubbing Art while also getting himself off on his heel but eventually he needs more. “i’m gonna lay down next to you, okay?” Art just nods, eyes shut and expression blissed. Patrick removed his hand for a moment to shift down and lay on the bed next to Art’s lithe body. he shifts his hand back between Art’s legs, continuing his motions while slipping his free hand down his jeans to help himself. he sighs at the contact, moving his hands in tandem.

Art watches him, moaning at the sight. “jesus…” Patrick chuckles. “what? i’m horny too..” After a minute Art’s hand slides over to Patrick’s, taking his wrist. “let me..” Patrick’s brows rise but he doesn’t fight the request. he removes his hand, unbuttoning his jeans a bit and watches as Art slips his hand under the waistband. as his fingers make contact with his clit, Patrick whines. “shit..”

Art smiles before his face contorts in pleasure once again, working his hand up to speed with Patrick’s. they carry on like this for a while until Art whimpers grow louder. “Pat…oh fuck…” Patrick nods, working his fingers faster. “me too, me too..don’t stop.” the bed starts to shake with the speed at which they work on each other. Art continues to whimper and moan, louder and louder until he reaches out and grabs a hold of Patrick’s bicep. his hips buck, his legs shake, and he silently cries out in pleasure. “ohhhhh FUCK.”

Patrick moans, face scrunching, trying to follow him. “yeah, yeah, don’t stop..” Art continues to work his fingers as he rides out his own orgasm. “please, please, please..!” Patrick nods, feeling the knot build and build until it snaps. he clamps his legs around Art’s hand and he groans gutturally. “shhhhiiiiiiit…” they both lie panting together, hands resting on each others hips, fingers and bodies sticky. eventually, Patrick speaks, voice shaky and broken.

“better?”

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Sex on The Beach (What a Treat)

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Description: You love being a part of the Dagger Squad, but you're well aware there isn't a lot going for you as a woman. You go out on dates - often. But none of those men every meet the mark. Can one drunken night on the beach and one gorgeously bespectacled WSO change your mind? Only the ocean and its waves and your own beating heart can say.

Themes: Virginity, First time, Dirty Talk, Jake has a surprisingly terrible sex story (it's right in the beginning)

Warnings: Bob Fucks!

Word Count: 3291

A/N: This fic is wholly self-indulgent and came to me in an ovulating daydream right in time for @attapullman's International Bob Floyd Fucks Month! I hope you all enjoy it! I'm proud enough to say that yes indeed, Bob Floyd fucks!

Thanks to @horseshoegirl for beta reading this fic for me and telling me that I wasn't writing Bob terribly.

My Masterlist

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

The night is cool and clear. A salty breeze rifles through your hair and dampens your face in soft gusts. It’s late, but on the other side of the bonfire, the other Daggers are continuing the party. A part of you is sure the party will still be going when the sun rises. You’re drunk, inhabiting that state of being between tipsy and drunk off your ass. Your cheeks feel hot, and your tongue is uncooperative. You’re not sure when the conversation veered right into a discussion of sex, but it did. You’re also not sure why you’re helplessly giggling about sex with Phoenix and Hangman, of all people.

“And then she bit me!”

You and Nat take one look at each other and cackle. You inhale a little and giggle out, “D-did she really bite your…?” 

Jake nods ruefully, a blush rising on his chest as Nat falls back with another delighted peal of laughter. You’re not sure you can look at the man when he looks like he’s still in pain just at the memory of what happened. His blush seems to intensify the more your delighted laughter rings out, and every time you look at Nat, it sets you off again and again. You feel like you can barely breathe; you’re laughing so hard. 

When you gasp for breath and sip your drink, your cheeks feel hot, and you can feel the sweat on your temples. You hold the frosty bottle up to your face in a futile attempt to cool off a little. It’s not like you’re wearing too many clothes, choosing to sling on an unbuttoned shirt and a pair of cutoffs over your bikini when the night cooled.

“You know, you’re laughing awfully hard for a girl who hasn’t said a word. We’ve heard from Tash. You’ve obviously heard from me. It’s your turn.” 

All of a sudden, your mirth dies off, instead turning into a cold sweat prickling across your exposed skin. You’re trapped in their gazes, Nat’s whiskey eyes staring you down coolly amused while Jake’s absinthe-colored orbs seem to glare right through you.

“Come on, Artemis.” 

When Nat begins to plead along with Jake, you cover your face with your fingers and collapse until you can hide your face in your knees. 

“Seriously, Artie. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, I’d love to know if you can top getting bitten on the dick mid-blowjob!”

“Seeing as how I don’t have a dick, that would be kind of hard, Bagman!” You deadpan.

But neither of them is pleased with your only input to the conversation so far. They keep needling you, poking and prying. Jake keeps calling you Artie, too, like only he ever has. Ultimately, that’s what has you lifting your head and glaring right at him.

“Don’t call me Artie!” You point at the grinning blond and wag your index finger.

“There she is!” When your glare narrows, he mimes, zipping his lips closed.

You can’t make eye contact as you spit out in a low hiss barely audible over the hissing fire, “I-I’ve never had sex before. I’m a virgin.”

But they heard you, if the wide-eyed glances they share are any indication.

“How is that possible?” 

Nat wraps an arm around your shoulders. You shrug, staring into the distance behind Jake’s head. Unconsciously, the three of you have gravitated to the spokes of a triangle, your legs tangled in the center of the blanket in a pile of sand-encrusted limbs. You’re pretty sure you’ve got Jake’s foot poking into your shin, and one of Nat’s legs is slung across yours.

“I’m always going out on dates, so that can’t possibly be true, right?” 

But, you have to snort just remembering those dates. “Those guys have always just fallen flat. They’re perfectly nice, decent guys. But we never seem to click. There’s no spark when they kiss me clumsily goodnight outside my front door.”

“Maybe you need to look a little bit closer to home for that kind of intimacy?” 

Your head snaps up at the sudden loud, obnoxious tone in Jake’s voice. 

“C’mon Tash. Our Artie is a little boring right now. What do you say we go grab a few more drinks?”

You’re too drunk for this shit, and you’re grumbling that fact as you watch Jake and Nat trip and lean over each other as they walk toward the other Daggers. In truth, it would probably make sense if something was going on between the two of them, though you wouldn’t bet on it.

“Y-you’re a virgin?” 

The words are said so quietly you half think they’re a figment of your imagination. But you know that voice too well to think you're dreaming.

“But you’re so pretty, Artemis. Those men didn’t deserve you, not at all.”

You smile and pat the blanket with your hand. Bob sits gingerly on the edge of the blanket with his back to the Daggers.

“It’s nice of you to say so, Bob.” His cheeks are pink, and his blue eyes are dark and deep as they stare into your own.

“I’m serious. If it were me, I’d have kissed you until your head was spinning, and those pretty lips were all swollen for me.” You can’t breathe for a completely different reason in comparison to all those minutes ago. You can smell whiskey on his breath, coupled with the smokey sweetness of the bonfire and the floral notes from his cologne.

“Why haven’t you, Bob?”

“I’ve seen the guys you go out with, Sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you can see stars reflect in his lenses, refracting over navy eyes, as he tips his dark blonde head back. “They’re sexy, suave, and debonaire. Why would you pick me over one of them?”

The self-deprecation in his voice has your mood sobering unexpectedly fast.

“You’re just as sexy, suave, and debonaire as they are, Bob.” He snickers gently at your phrasing.

“You don’t really believe that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Unconsciously, you lean forward, needing to get closer to him. One of his hands rises to cup your cheek, and your eyes flutter.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” you muse.

 He hums, and his big thumb swipes gently across your cheek.

“Maybe it’s because I haven’t trusted any of the men I go out with.”

“And you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The moment feels electric, like sparks skittering across your skin. Bob’s eyes keep glancing over your lips. The alcohol flowing through your veins frees your inhibitions as you stand and brush sand off of the back of your shorts. Bob blinks at your sudden movement, mouth parted sweetly as you reach for his hands. When he’s standing, he runs his hands through his hair, leaving minute grains interspersed through the golden threads. You can feel his gaze on your skin as you bunch the blanket over your forearm.

“Come here.” You take his hand in yours, gently tugging him away from the bonfire and your friends. Nobody notices your disappearance, which suits you just fine. You make for the little lifeguard shack a couple hundred feet down the beach and lay the blanket out in its shadow.

“What're we doing all the way out here?” 

Instead of responding, you fist your hands in his shirt and tug his mouth down until it meets yours. The kiss starts clumsy and bumbling, just a brush of skin to skin. It feels like Bob is trying to figure out how genuine you are, so you keep the pressure light. Already, this tender, fumbling kiss is a million times better for you than those first kisses with those other guys. When Bob gasps and his big hands curl around your hips, you moan.

That small sound leaving your mouth makes Bob wild. His hand wraps around the base of your skull as he licks into your mouth. It feels like you're burning up, skin bursting fever hot just at his touch. His hands divest you of your button-down and your shorts; his fingers are studied and quick as he whispers filth into your ears. His tongue traces hot over your pulse, sucking and nibbling and teasing. You chase after his mouth when he pulls away, whimpering as you rub your thighs together.

“You’re so beautiful for me, my lovely Ari.” His eyes are dark now, just a thin rim of blue wrapped around his pupils as he presses you down onto the blanket.

You’re keening, babbling his name as you straighten his glasses. There's a fond, tender look in Bob's eyes as he dips down to kiss you again. 

“Shhh, darling.” His mouth drags wet over your collarbones. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

When his calloused fingers drag your bikini top away, you shiver. Your nipples are peaked and hard as he gazes down at you. It should feel weird being so exposed to a colleague and friend, but all you want is to feel the hard length in his swim shorts pressed up against you. 

It's not a choice at all as you mewl, “Please.”

You could fall in love with Bob Floyd's smile, the smirk covering his face when he's feeling confident. When he wraps his lips around the peak of your breast, licking at the swollen flesh with his hot, wet tongue, you’re sure you could fall in love with his mouth, too. You feel like you’re drowning as Bob Floyd kisses over your stomach, placing tender kisses across the stretch marks slicing silver over your skin, as he kneads at your ass with big hands before undoing the knots of your bikini bottoms with his teeth. When the fabric falls away, you exhale, unsure when you started to hold your breath when you know you will need it. You can feel the heat of his breath against that most intimate of places, making you squirm.

“I've got you, Ari.” Even the endearment he's chosen, based on your unfortunate callsign, makes you ache for him. “Mmmm, you're so wet for me.”

His fingers dip gently through your folds, the slow, languid motions making something simmer in your veins. His fingers already feel different from your own, filling your sopping cunt in ways that your own can’t. The brush of his tongue over your clit has your hands burying in his hair, tugging at the soft strands. But his mouth doesn't stay there, nipping at your hips, the tender skin between your thighs, at the soft skin where your pelvis meets your legs. You lose yourself in the feeling of his mouth, babbling his name in whispers and moans. The buildup of your orgasm is already different from when you use your fingers; it is more intense and more fulfilling. When he traces figure eights over your clit with his tongue, you come hard, thighs shaking at the effort of holding them open around his head.

“So beautiful when you come,” he rasps. His glasses are fogged, and his lips are slicked with your release as he settles in between your parted legs. You tug Bob into a kiss, sliding your arms around his neck until his weight rests on you. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you slowly and sweetly.

“Are you sure you want me to do this for you, sweetheart?” His cheeks are pink, his hair falling onto his forehead as he growls the words out. 

“All you have to do is tell me, beautiful.” When he nuzzles your breasts and lays an open-mouthed kiss over the peaks, you’re more sure than ever. “We can stop the minute you’re not comfortable anymore. This is about you, after all.”

“Come here, Bobby.” 

He looks almost startled as you pull him back into a kiss, sliding your hands under the fitted shirt he’s been wearing all day. His skin is warm and silky smooth, lean muscles flexing under your curious touch.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” You’re whining as you drag the shirt up, and you have to moan when he finally yanks it off. His hair is standing up on end, and his glasses are askew, but right now, you're not sure there is a sexier man on the planet.

“Fuck, you’re hot, Bob.”

His blush deepens, eyes wide at your horny declaration. 

“I mean it.”

You tug at the knot of your bikini, wrestling with the strings with clumsy fingers. 

“Come here, sweetheart. I’ll get the knot for you.” 

You should feel ashamed, naked out on the beach where anyone could happen to see you. But you’re not ashamed at all. His hands gently pushing your hair over your shoulder and his mouth kissing the nape of your neck are why. When the triangles of fabric fall from your skin, you turn and kiss Bob again. You could get drunk off of the feeling of his lips against yours, off the way he licks into your mouth. Emboldened by the look in his eyes, you let your hands trail down until they dip below the waistband of his swim shorts.

“God, sweetheart. There you go.” He’s grunting and gasping against your mouth as you wrap your hands around him. For the first time since you kissed Bob, you feel a little out of your depths. He’s big, so big that you need both hands to hold him, big enough you’re not sure he’ll fit. When you voice your worries in a quiet, gasping whisper, he chuckles.

“It’ll fit in that pretty pussy, baby. Just gotta work you up good, and it’ll slide right on in.”

You squeak as he lays you down again because, for the first time, you can hear his accent as he drawls out the words. From this angle, your mouth parts in shock at the sight of him. Bob’s biting at his lip as he rolls a condom on, and that sight makes you giggle a little.

“Of course, you have a condom on you.” 

When he snickers, you know you’re going to want more of this with him. “I, um… Jake gave it to me.”

You cover your face with your hands and squeal a little more.

“He’s been trying to get me to ask you out for months now, darling. I wish I’d known a few shots of tequila and a conversation about sex would be all it would take.”

“Are you calling me easy, Bob Floyd?” You’re pouting, but it doesn’t last for long as he seems to blanche at your teasing. When you laugh, he dips down to kiss you, and you hum at how good it feels. 

“I think we’re both a little easy for each other. All we needed was a little push.”

He runs his hands up your thighs, smoothing over the flesh as he parts your legs a little more. 

“It’s your last chance to stop this, Ari. You just have to tell me.” You can feel him hard against you as he kisses you again. “We can get dressed and just walk back to the bonfire. Maybe we can try again later.”

“We’re not stopping, not now, Bob.”

Your voice isn’t exactly firm, more breathy than anything, but it makes Bob smile. He guides himself into you, and from the first press, you’re sure you’ve never felt so full. It doesn’t hurt, but it does feel uncomfortable.

“Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart.” There’s sweat beading up on his temples, and his jaw is tight as he growls out the words. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Relax for me, baby.” You melt when he kisses you, shivering at the feeling of his bare skin pressing into yours. He rubs gently at your sides, calloused fingers gentle as they pluck at your nipples. It’s when he kisses you again that you relax. Inch by slow, incremental inch, Bob fills you. He kisses you when you tense around his length, a WSO’s patience and talent filling each heavy moment. 

When he bottoms out in you, you feel like a live wire. The sparks floating across your skin are back, arcing through your veins until they’re molten with lust. The first few times he pulls out of you and presses in again, it feels just as uncomfortable as that first slow slide. When his fingers find your clit and massage it in counter rhythm to the push-pull of his cock, you gasp, open-mouthed and silent. All of a sudden, it feels so good; you couldn’t describe it if you tried.

“Fuck,” Bob’s vocal in bed. You wouldn’t think it, looking at him. It’s also incredibly flattering. “You’re so tight for me, Ari. Fuck, baby girl. Your pussy’s perfect. I’m so lucky.”

You’re gasping and moaning, trying desperately to quell the feral sounds spilling out of your mouth. Each thrust has your fingers scrabbling for purchase in the beach blanket under you, knuckles whitening under the pressure. Unbidden, you can feel your orgasm cresting, stronger than the last.

“Bob,” You’re nearly sobbing because everything you feel is nearly too much to handle. “Please, Bobby. Gonna cum!”

When those talented fingers find their way to your swollen clit and massage it, you come. His hips stutter even as your legs wrap around his waist, and he roars against your chest as he comes after you. You feel like you’ve been stunned. If this is what sex feels like, you’re not sure why you waited as long as you did. Or maybe it’s not just the sex that was mind-blowing, but the man you just had sex with? He’s blushing again, sweat dripping down his chest as he helps you dress with slow deliberate motions. You steal kisses whenever you can, because, yeah, you're falling in love with his mouth and his tongue and his voice.

“Got to get you cleaned up before we head back to the bonfire. C’mon, Ari.” 

After everything you’ve done with Robert Floyd, holding hands shouldn’t make you giggle so much. But you need his helping hand in more ways than one. There’s already a dull ache at the base of your spine, but you refuse to let that feeling beat you. 

Unfortunately, Bob leads you back toward the parking lot, squeezing your fingers and smiling softly at you as you lean onto him. But everything is dark and silent the closer you get. The bonfire is glowing embers in the sand, and all of the cars are gone from the parking lot. Your bag is sitting in the tailgate of Bob’s truck, and you have text messages on the device explaining how everyone has headed out. They’re from at least an hour ago.

He better be good to you, Artie. 

Jake’s message is the only one in which your friends allude to knowing what happened between you and Bob. When you turn back around, Bob’s biting at his bottom lip, worrying the flesh with his teeth. His hands are in his pockets, and for the first time, he seems anxious.

“Can I take you home, Ari?” 

You hum, tugging his mouth down to yours for another kiss.

“Take me home, Bob.” Your voice is a whisper as you let Bob crowd you against his truck.

“I can do that, Ari. But, can I also take you to dinner sometime, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.” You shiver as he kisses your pulse. “But only if I get your big dick again, Bobby.”

He swats your ass as he helps you into the cab of the truck. 

“Everything I am is yours, baby girl.”

This sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Though, given the chance, you’re going to avoid having sex on the beach again. Sand rubbing you raw isn't quite so fun when you'd rather have Bob do that for you.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@shanimallina87 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32

[rw-ascension-au]

note: pieces of dialogue in [square brackets] are thoughts

next | previous | first

Greetings, Artificer.

What do you want?

I am here to ask some things in order for us to get to know you. It will allow our mission to proceed more easily due to the risk of--

You may not.

Why is that?

I just met you a few cycles ago! What do you think!? You keep pestering even your own group!

I don't believe "pester" is the correct word in this situation-

[Added a cut due to length. Before proceeding: CW- implied panic attack. Could be inaccurate, despite me having knowledge from my own experience. Also motion blur]

We don't want to answer your stupid questions, okay!? It's all - "May I ask something" this, "Can you please answer a few questions" that! You never hold a real conversation.

I apologise-

Do you!? Do you really!? I found hunter freaking out after your "information collection"! I'm not putting up with this!

I was simply concerned abou-

Concerned about your own mission going awry. If you're not asking questions, you're talking about the mission.

Artificer, you must calm down-

Oh right, that totally helps!

My intention was not to offend you.

I'm not humouring you anymore.

Artificer, please-

Don't pretend like you're worried! You gave me a choice. And I'm choosing to leave.

Artificer, if you stay, I promise I won't be an irritation again.

...

[She's gone.]

[What am I going to tell the others?]

[How did I fail my first mission?]

[How am I going to tell Invenot?]

...

[I ruined it for everyone.]

[Something's happening.]

[It's hard to breathe.]

[it feels as though I'm surrounded by lizards]

[I need to find Gourmand]

[They're the medic, if I remember correctly.]

[Do I remember it correctly?]

[What if something goes wrong again?]

[What if Gourmand leaves in a similar manner?]

[What if I'm merely pestering Gourmand, too?]

[what's happening?]

[what am I supposed to do?]

[what if invenot doesn't let me return to the void sea?]

[what if I'm banished somewhere?]

[what if I ended up locked at the lowest possible karma?]

[what if invenot punishes me for this?]

Saint?

May I- may I inquire about- did you see Artificer?

No, why?

She uh- I- I deeply apologise- she- she was upset with the way I've been inquiring about information. And-

...

May I ask something about- ...

Sure! But before that-

...

why?

It works with Spears.

I do not understand. But this does remind me, I think there might be something wrong.

Other than the fact that I found you all stressed out?

...

what?

You were panicking about something. Did Artificer leave?

...does Invenot punish failed missions?

Oh, this mission hasn't failed. We just have to be patient. Artificer usually comes back.

'Usually'? Does this happen on a regular basis?

Sometimes, yeah.

Would you please care to elaborate?

She's rather indecisive about the whole ascension thing. But the comes back after a little while. Though I'm not entirely sure why.

...very well then.

Let's go hang out at the shelter- I've already collected some plants and stuff. Arti will find us there.

...

[How did that happen? I'm supposed to be calm. I'm usually calm.]

[mash4077confessions]

For your last reblog, please do Mulcahy!!! I love your answers for him. You’re almost single handedly keeping Mulcahy girlies alive!

Thank you very much 😊

Alrighty, let's do the rest of these headcanon questions for Mulcahy!

3) Who depends on them? Everyone at 4077th, in someway shape or form, even if they don't really notice it. He would be prime for an "It's A Wonderful Life" kind of episode.

Back in Philadelphia...it's a very different story. Hell, one of the main reasons why he volunteered to go to Korea, was because he wanted to be useful and no one seemed to need him in Philadelphia.

4) What they would do if they had one month to live?

At first, I think Mulcahy would be very angry. He'd randomly lash out, he'd be hitting his punching bag. Then he'd get very solemn. He'd pray (a lot more than usual), and he'd drink heavily. Then Mulcahy would come out of that, and decide that his last days were better spent on others, instead of pitying himself.

He'd donate all his money, spend extra time with his friends and Kathy. He might even reach out to his brothers that he's long since stopped speaking to.

Mulcahy would give his all till the last moment of life, and still he'd ask quietly to himself, whether or not he'd really done enough.

5) A cherished personal belonging?

Well he has several things I can think of off the top of my head. The crucifix necklace he wears all the time, that was from Kathy. She gave it to him when he decided to join the church, and so it is very valuable to him.

He also has several photographs that he made a point to bring with him to Korea (one of his parents on their wedding day, as no one else seemed interested in having it, a picture of him and Kathy as toddlers, and then the one family portrait they had done when he was still a baby).

There is also his rather healthy library he took with him as well (Plato, War and Peace, The Completed Works of Shakespeare).

6) Something they lost, but would love to have back?

his hearing

His mother. She died just before his 18th birthday. I'm still deciding what actually killed her, but it definitely was caused in part to her having had so many children (7 total). It does things to your body.

If we're just talking about a general item, he has "lost" a couple of autographs from his favorite boxers (I say lost in quotations because what really happened was a nun found his autographed boxing magazines, including one signed by Artie Levine, and she threw them away because she didn't think it was appropriate for a priest to have so many images of shirtless men laying around. She claimed it was the boxing she took issue with, but we know what she was really thinking).

7) This character’s favorite character?

Hawkeye. It kinda goes without saying. Mulcahy is often in awe of him, and he finds him humorous (although a tad obnoxious at times), and he goes to him for help because he knows Hawkeye will be there when he needs him and won't judge him for reaching out.

Mulcahy is also great friends with Potter, though the man is much older than he is, they have a surprising amount in common (side note: is it just me or when William Christopher got old, he started looking more like Harry Morgan?)

Mulcahy also has very close friendships with both Klinger and Sidney.

8) What kind of car they would drive?

I don't think Mulcahy owns a car in his civilian life. Public transportation would have still been pretty common in 1950s Philadelphia and when he was in college at Loyola, that was in Chicago. No real big need to own a car when you're in a city center. That said, if he did have a vehicle, it would be old and second-hand. It would work but it wouldn't be fancy. Probably white or sand colored.

10) How they deal with pain?

Like physical pain? Dude can take a hit. When he was a featherweight boxer (his former life before Kathy got him to become a priest) he'd have concussions, couple broken ribs, black eyes, etc. Of course he gave as good as he got, and then some. But he has a pretty high pain tolerance.

(If you want to talk about that time that Margaret hit him and he acted like he was in pain, it's because she's a woman and he can't hit a woman, so he knew he'd have no way to physically defend himself if she really decided to let him have it. She's also REALLY strong.)

11) This character’s favorite piece or pieces of clothing?

Mulcahy isn't much into fashion. If it fits and doesn't have holes or stains on it, it's good enough for him. His priestly attire is more important to him than any civilian clothes he owns. That said, he is very fond of his Loyola hoodie (aren't we all?), that "G" baseball cap that Hawkeye bought him, and he does have one really nice lavender button down dress shirt (worn only on leave in Tokyo, which he seldom gets to do).

13) What kind of parent they would be?

The best kind. He would be soooooo loving and affectionate towards his children. He would spend so much time and energy engaging with them on their level. The kids at St. Teresa's Orphanage absolutely adore him, and he adores them right back. He's not great at discipline, though. That would be his partner's job, for sure. Not that he can't lay down the law, when needed, but he's afraid he's overdoing it and sounding like his father.

14) How they did in school?

Mulcahy was always very interested in learning and had no problem keeping up with the lessons. The trouble was that sometimes he just really wanted to read Plato or Aristotle or The Odyssey...and his teachers didn't appreciate him wanting to go off and do his own thing. He definitely got hit by at least one teacher at school fairly regularly for this.

Mulcahy always wanted to learn and discuss very broad topics, and his teachers didn't want to deal with that. Which was not great for him because they'd labeled him a troublemaker, and that got him the belt from his dad. Mulcahy always got on better with the girls in his class rather than the boys.

The boys were all like his brothers and his father; they wanted to rough house and when they got older, go skirt chasing. The girls liked him because he was sweet, and kind, and dorky. They felt safe with him. The boys also beat him mercilessly, until he was 12 and learned that it was OK to defend himself.

Many a time, he had his glasses broken, and once again, his dad would go right for the belt.

I think he was always on the outs in school, even in the seminary. I'm sure he had friends but he also had a lot of people looking at him as if he were just one giant question mark. No one really knowing what to make of him, and overlooking so many wonderful aspects of his being, because of that lack of understanding.

15) What cologne or perfume they would use?

I don't know if he really uses any. If Mulcahy does ever use cologne, it's going to be something cheap and earthy. He is a very cleanly person and he has really nice kinda fruity smelling soap and shampoo. Because he's around the church incense so often, it does stick to his robes. The incense has a nice cedar sort of smell to it.The point being in all this, is that he bathes regularly (probably the most often out of anyone in the main cast) and he does smell very nice.

17) What they’d sing at karaoke?

Something upbeat and fun. Maybe from a musical?

18) Special talents they have?

As previously stated, Mulcahy has a serious green thumb when it comes to his garden. He's also got one hell of a right hook for boxing. He plays piano (how well depends entirely on who you ask). Mulcahy has a pretty solid knack for gambling as a whole, but his odds do fair a lot better when making bets specifically on people...rather than cards. He can whistle pretty well too. Carries a nice tune when he sings (still better sounding with a partner).

Sometimes his most important talent is just getting people to agree to let things go with a small smile, and a tiny "please? 😇"

Mulcahy can also read Greek...though that's mostly just so he can read poetry in its original language.

Also did you see his sand castle in GFA? Dude has some mad skills to pull that one off without a mold.

Mulcahy is a mutitalented person. I didn't even name all his talents/skills.

20) Household chore they hate the most?

This is tough, because Mulcahy loves to clean. He loves dishes, and laundry, and finds dusting rather relaxing. Of course, this is all done as an act of service for someone else's benefit; the rest of the 4077th, those he shares the rectory with back home, his mother when he was a child, etc.

My best guess would be cooking. I think he can cook a fairly decent meal, but most of the time he's only ever cooked for himself and that immediately makes him disinterested in the task. He's just doing it because he has to eat. That's it.

21) Their fondest childhood memory?

Ok, not counting the Gentleman Joe memory because we already know all about that one. I'd say it's a memory of a time with his mother for sure. A time when the house was quiet, because his older brothers and Kathy were away at school, his father was working, and there with his head nestled in his mother's lap was baby Mulcahy, listening to her as she read to him, and stroked his head. It was a good place to be.

22) How they spend their money?

While in Korea most of his money goes to St. Teresa's Orphanage and a few creature comforts for himself.

Back at home he definitely still gives a lot to charity (he has his preferred organizations within the greater Philadelphia area). Of course he has to spend money on necessities such as food, toiletries, clothing items as they fall apart, etc. He gives gifts to his loved ones from time to time as well (birthdays and Christmas in particular, but sometimes just to cheer people up).

As for money he spends on himself just because; well he gambles and you gotta have money on hand for that, he sometimes splurges and treats himself to a good quality cigar or a higher quality beer. He's got some good leather dress shoes that he keeps well polished. Oh! And on theater tickets (both plays and the movies). He also occasionally hits the local art museums and will spend hours there looking at the paintings and statues.

(And as I write this, I know suddenly really want to take him to the MET, because he'd absolutely love it.)

23) What kind of alcohol they drink?

Beer and occasionally wine. His max alcohol percentage is 5%. Anything stronger than that and he will get plastered so quickly. Most of the time, when he drinks you'll notice him sort of nursing his beer, as opposed to chugging for the finish. He actually likes the taste of beer, and usually isn't trying to get drunk.

24) What they wish they could change about themselves?

Mulcahy wishes he was a better orator, the kind that really puts the butts in the pews and has them all feeling God's words deep in their hearts. For clarification on this, he isn't a terrible speaker, but his sermons are loaded with dad Father jokes and thinly valed stories of people he knows.

In general, Mulcahy just wants to be better. To do better. He's chasing the approval of others, because he doesn't really approve of himself. Self validation isn't his thing.

25) What other people wish they could change about them?

The people who know and love Mulcahy, wish he could see himself as they see him (goes for most of the fandom as well, I think). But at the same time, his humility is part of what makes him, him, so maybe they just wish he wouldn't beat himself up so much.

People who don't like him or at least don't particularly care about him (Frank, some higher ranking members of the military, couple church officials from his home parish, etc) they would want him to be a bit more "fire and brimstone", and to have a bit more military sense. They want him to be more traditional and fundamentalist in his views. And they'd also like him to stop with the Bible puns. But they don't matter, because they don't like him anyway.

I feel like I've missed some small but still very vital details, but that's the trouble with headcanons; I could go on and on.

[hannahhook7744]

Incorrect quotes for Tulip x Artie featuring Artie's friends and Morgie please ?

Morgie: I know you love them.

Artie: I am not in love with Tulip!

Morgie, staring at Artie: I never said who...

Artie*realizes*

Artie: Shit. Well, anyways—

Morgie: We are not just gonna breeze passed that.

Artie: If we have to talk about my crush on Tulip, we have to talk about the obvious crush you had on Hook and Hades.

Morgie, staring:

Artie, staring:

Morgie: Anyway, what do you want for lunch?

—————————————————————————————————————————

Tulip *cooking*

Morgie *kicks down door*

Morgie *grabs knife from Tulip's hand*

Morgie: WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR?

Tulip:

Tulip: What.

Artie: They're trying to tell you they want to cook.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Morgie *lifting weights*

Tulip: Wow… They’re so intense!

Artie: I wonder what drives them.

Morgie, internally: Oh I am going to be SO good at giving hugs.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Morgie: Something tells me Artie's going to be a bit more unhinged today...

Artie, holding a lit match and a bag of cheetos: Leave me be, Artie isn't home to stop me, I'm going feral.

Morgie: No, but I am.

Hades, eating popcorn: Nah, let him do.

James, nodding and grabbing a handful: Aye, we wanna see what happens when the lad does!

Morgie: I will encourage your kids to do something like this if you keep encouraging him. Also how did you get in my house—

Uliana, from the kitchen: You gave us all a key.

Lizard Maleficent, on Uliana's shoulder *hisses in agreement*

—————————————————————————————————————————

Morgie: You borrowed a crane?

Tulip: Not exactly.

Artie: You stole a crane?!

Tulip: Exactly.

Artie: WITHOUT ME?

Morgie: I'm too old for this shit.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Lizard Maleficent*hisses at Morgie*

Morgie*hisses back*

Tulip, confused: WHAT is going on here?

Artie: They're arguing.

Tulip: About what?

Artie: Maleficent wants Morgie to sit with her at Mal's coronation now that she's getting married but he already agreed to sit with Uliana and Hades.

Tulip, even more confused: Why doesn't she just sit with Hook?

Artie, bored: Because he refused to sit with her or Hades because he's neutral.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Artie and Tulip *about to do something stupid*

Tulip: my daddy refuses to tell me what death is so this should fun !

Morgie, deadpanned: Death means you can't go shopping or see your loved ones ever again.

Tulip: OH HELL NO !

Tulip: Artie are you sure this a good idea ??

Artie: It'll be fine!

Narrator (who is Dragonet): Spoiler alert, it was not fine.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Tulip: Would you still love me if I was a worm?

Artie: I-

Morgie, who's had this exact conversation with his friends and past partners: Don't answer that.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Artie: The ritual. To preform it requires a sacrifice.

Tulip: Sacrifice? I nominate Morgie.

Morgie: Wait, what?

Tulip: Because you're little, you'll fit on a barbecue.

Morgie: You're shorter than me!

Artie: Its not that kind of of sacrifice guys!

—————————————————————————————————————————

Dragonet *snickering as the camera turns on* hey Auratube, it's your guy Dragonet the Jester here and today we're gonna be pranking Morgie.

*cuts to Artie and Tulip leaning over Morgie's shoulder as he reads a gossip magazine about himself*

Artie: Hey, Morgie?

Morgie, not even looking up: yes?

Tulip: we have a question for you.

Morgie: Are you sure you want to be asking me this question?

Artie: Yes.

Morgie, sighs as he takes a sip of his tea: what is it?

Tulip and Artie, in sync: Where do babies come from?

Morgie *does a spit take*

Dragonet *cackling as he turns the cameras back around* For the record, we already know where they come from.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Tulip, setting down a card: Ace of spades.

Morgie, pulling out an Uno card: +4.

Artie , pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you!

Dragonet, frustratedly throws his cards down: What are we playing?!

Morgie: Isle Cards of War.

Dragonet: I quit!

—————————————————————————————————————————

Artie: What’s it like being tall?

Dragonet : Is it nice?

Tulip: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Morgie, 5"6: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Artie: Hi, could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire??

Morgie: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

Dragonet : Why were you microwaving a lemon???

Morgie: I read boiling lemons helps cover up up bad smells (I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges) but I didn't own any pots.

Tulip: Did you burn an orange too? How???

Morgie: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

—————————————————————————————————————————

Tulip: Oh wise Morgie, we need your assistance-

Merlin, twitching: How about I help you children instead-

Artie: No one asked for your help.

Dragonet: Dude, watch it, that's my dad. We can't hang out if you make him mad.

Morgie: What were you guys even going to ask me for help for?

—————————————————————————————————————————

Morgie, on video chat with his friends: But yeah, Artie is spending the night so I gotta go-

Artie, from the kitchen: Hey, Morgie? What does poison ivy look like?

Morgie, having a bad feeling : It has three leaflets on each leaf and grows as a bush or vine. Why?

Artie: Because Me, Tulip, and the rest of our friends made some salad from stuff we collected from the woods and now my throat is really itchy-

Morgie, panicked: I gotta go-

Hook, laughing:

Harry: Dad, how do you know if you have pufferfish poisoning?

Hook, runs out of the room—accidentally knocking over the camera: DON'T TOUCH THE PUFFERFISH!

[icarus-suraki]

It was a rainy Monday night when she came up to my office. I saw her silhouette on my frosted pebbled glass door and I knew this was going to be trouble.

They don't make frosted pebbled glass doors like they used to. I had to source this one specially. I cut the door to fit it in myself. The landlord didn't like that but he doesn't understand aesthetics. Same reason I keep my blinds half-open all the time for those angular and linear shadows: aesthetics.

I put the decals for my name up on the door too: Harry Cross, Researcher. The letters were backwards for me on account of being inside my office: ɿɘʜɔɿɒɘƨɘЯ ƨƨoɿƆ γɿɿɒH

Then the letters were ||||| ||||| ||||||| when she opened the door.

"Hello, Hodie," she said.

"Hodie" is what they call me if they know me: Harry "Hodie" Cross. It was a long-ago yesterday that I got that nickname. I'll tell you why tomorrow.

"Hey, kid," I said.

You could call her a leggy blonde. Blondes come in only a couple of flavors in these kinds of stories: icy and honey. But she wasn't a blonde. She was pretty leggy, though, considering she had two of them. She'd be leggier if she had more but you take what you can get. So you could call her a leggy blonde if you wanted but I'm not about to. She was maybe somewhere between 17 and 43 and she looked like she had a lot on her mind. I'm telling you all this for your benefit; she's my cousin so don't get any ideas.

She took my hat off the rack and put it on as she walked over on those two legs; the hat looked better on her than on me.

"How're your brothers?" I asked.

"Fighting," she said as she sat down on the other side of my desk.

"Too bad," I said.

She shrugged. "It happens every night."

This kid here, Issy, she's got two brothers, Shem and Shaun and they've each got a share of the city. Shem's got a lock on the stationery business in this town and Shaun's got a mail delivery racket going. It never ends with those two and sometimes I think Issy just plays referee when they're brawling.

I kicked my feet up on the desk. "So what brings a girl like you to a nice place like this? The rain? The park? Other things?"

"I need you to find someone for me, Hodie."

"Yeah?" I lit another datura cigarette. I couldn't find the one I'd just had in my hand. "Who?" I lost my cigarette again.

"Ellmann."

I gave her a look. Two-ells-two-enns Dicky Davy Ellmann was another big man in this town, but for the right reasons. He was smart; he knew his stuff, and if he didn't know, he knew how to find out. A regular tome, that guy.

I found another datura cigarette in my hand and lit it. "With that blue and black jacket of his, he should be easy to find." I paused for a second. "You don't think he's…I guess some people would call it 'recycled'?"

"I don't think he's in the box."

We all know the old cardboard box where you end up when it's time to leave the city of letters.

"Still in the old place, then, huh? Why're you looking for him?"

"Because of this."

She slid a Tumblr post across the desk towards me:

I read it and gave a low whistle.

"I need to know if it's true, Hodie. And if anyone's going to know, it's Ellmann and nobody knows where he is."

I leaned back in my chair, which I also had to source specially as a vintage piece since the aesthetics demand something other than a pink gamer chair in this establishment, and kept looking at the post.

"Why not just ask the usual crowd?"

"With Artie out there causing trouble?"

She was right: Artie Intel was a thorn in everyone's side these days. He liked to talk but only about three words of what he said were true. It was all good language but it was all wrong--not even fiction, just plain wrong. Real gift o' the gab with this one. And a town like this might run on fiction but sometimes you just need facts. The problem was that people were starting to listen to old Artie and starting think what he was saying was making sense.

"Hodie, please?" she said. "You've got a nose like a bloodhound."

"It's not that big."

"You got droopy eyes, though."

She had me there.

"And droopy ears."

That was maybe going too far.

"All right," I said. "I'll take the case."

"I knew you would, Hodie. And I know you'll find him."

I tossed the post back onto the desk. "When I set out to find somebody I find 'em. That's why they pay me."

[roo-bastmoon]

After having a long think...

Even though I keep saying I'm going to go rest and stop obsessing about this, I guess I can't. I just suck at sitting still and being chill. My thoughts are under the cut out of respect for folks in the tags who don't want to engage in any drama around Seven.

Here is a list of all the push for Seven that has been noticed in the first two days (the thread is currently 30-posts deep but please do take a look):

Note: I haven't vetted any of those comments. I just scrolled through them and felt so overwhelmed. It just doesn't look good, but I bow to any industry experts who have real data and experience.

Update: Artie has a good post here about Jimin's debut numbers and playlists. Also here about how Seven being promoted to radio isn't necessarily proof that it was payola and they have the numbers from credible sources to back that possibility up:

I'm just going to come right out and say it: I find payola dishonorable. It's not just advertising; it's basically bribes. And ads should never replace real people's streams.

I deeply respected that BTS and ARMY found such success without that stuff. It used to be about passionate artists, making their own music, which resonated with real people, who worked hard to promote it. It was about mutual respect.

JK's numbers don't look completely organic to me, but I don't think he had a hand in that.

I have such serious misgivings if this the direction Hybe is going in for JJK1, and have no clue how the group survives if the company picks and chooses their favorites for that kind of push. If this is the strategy for all BTS projects now, I have no idea how they can afford it. I'd really appreciate if they could come to us and try to explain how it could ever be on the up-and-up because I don't think it can.

I confess I will not be working hard at all for anything that seems inorganic. This project just looks like Scooter weaponizing Jungkook to win a dick-measuring contest with Taylor and others. I hate it.

That said, I've always been very clear that Jimin is my guide.

Jimin adores Jungkook. Jimin is working with and hanging out with Jungkook even as I type this. Jimin is choosing for now to stay with Hybe. Jimin is flying all over the world on Hybe's time and dime to work on even more projects. Jimin has more music to share with us, that Hybe is investing in. Jimin seems happy for the most part.

I will support Jimin and never move against the people Jimin loves.

I trust Jimin and give the benefit of the doubt to the people Jimin trusts.

When planning his first album, I do not believe that Jimin was told about decisions to split tracks, or skip play-listings, or what would get restocked, or if they'd buy ads for smoother streams on YouTube and Spotify or not, or what kind of articles would be written about him.

I believe Jimin had plenty of input on the design, look, feel, sound, tracks, cast, choreo, performances--all the creative aspects of his album. I think he was able to say what he needed to say and get Letter hidden on his album for Jungkook. But I don't think he was roped into strategic plans and profit and loss statements and marketing roll-outs in any great detail. I arrive at this idea based on my own experience in the entertainment industry--I could be wrong.

And so I think the same for Jungkook. I think Jungkook had input on some of the creative aspects of this single (and likely had suspicions of what working under Hybe America and Scooter might entail). I have no idea the conversations and pressures he faced around this topic, or if he simply trusted Bang PD to handle it. I don't know what all he talked about with Jimin and the hyungs.

I do know there was a time this year when he came to us on lives deeply depressed and almost lost, despondent. I know there was a group dinner where many things were discussed. And then there were many times he came to us on lives, inspired by and enamored with Jimin, memorizing and hyping up his work with such pure adoration, even as their own company refused to even mention Jimin's successes.

So I ask myself: does Jeon Jungkook really have it in him to steal Jimin's ideas or push himself out ahead of his hyungs, embracing unequal treatment and unfair advantages, just so he can be the one to make it big in the West?

And in looking for that answer, I'm reminded of this clip:

No. I don't think that's who Jeon Jungkook is. At least, it isn't the Jeon Jungkook I knew.

I am sad to say I think that is exactly who Scooter Braun is and who Bang PD has become. That is what the company would do. But not our Jungkook. Not unless everyone in the group was on board with it, somehow.

Jimin is standing by Jungkook. So I am standing by Jungkook--as a person.

But I've bought Seven once and I've added it to my night playlist and that's all the moves I'm making on that project. I will not be setting alarms to vote or using extra accounts to buy or hash-tagging anything, nor getting any merch, nor requesting local spins, none of that. It's a catchy song but as the thread I linked to above shows, it is a guaranteed "success" even without me. So I'm using my energy to support Jimin and other BTS projects that resonate with me and need me.

My stance on this might offend you, and I respect your feelings. I do not identify as a solo or anti. I still think of myself as aJimin-biased Jikooker who loves the members. I am probably toeing the line of being a manti, as I feel this company has broken faith with me. Not the creative or administrative staff, but the executives. I feel like they've ended our ten-year legacy in shame.

If it gets much worse, I may just dip out of the fandom after Jimin goes into service. I don't know. Probably I will have to see how things work out for the other solo works and plans for the group for 2025. At the moment, I have far bigger things to worry about, like colitis.

I can't lie, what I've seen so far with this rollout really shocked me, gave me a bit of an identity crisis, as ARMY. I don't want to assume the worst; neither do I want to bury my head in the sand for the sake of my ship or my favorite songs.

I will always act in accordance with my own conscience, based on the limited information I have. If I get better information, I will of course update my viewpoints. If at any point that causes anyone who is friended with me distress, I will understand completely if we need to part ways. I never, EVER wish to cause anyone harm.

But I'm too sick to argue and debate too much, too long. Boraland was supposed to be a place to unwind and feel inspired, not get more stressed. These past few 1.5 years months as ARMY has been exhausting in every sense of the word. So I'm choosing to put my energy into the things that bring some joy in my life.

I'm choosing to trust and follow Jimin's lead, for now.

[katieaki]

My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated! Read it here for free on my Patreon and vote in the poll! There is a summary of the first part, here, and the second part, here. They have everything you need to know about Lou, her requited-but-complicated love, the religious assassin who just beat the tar out of her, the worst person she's ever met, and the ill-advised journey she is on! There is also now a discord where Pony Express readers from all across god's green internet can gather, here!

Ladies, ladies please, maybe we'll all just feel a little better after a good night's rest! No? We're gonna spitefully encourage one another to make blood offerings and accuse each other of looking at the other's boobs in the locker room? What are you, gay or something?? Okay. That's fine too.

Read it for free on my patreon! Excerpt below the cut.

(Holliday headshot (signed)) and two outfits from this update: Skylark (hungover) and Lou (cozy)

“Look here, they can’t kill you,” Lou said, ignoring Skylark’s obvious attempt to shift Lou’s focus to her instead. 

“It’s church shit, Lou,” Artie said through sobs, her back still turned. “Go to sleep.”

“Just for this?” Lou said, lifting her hurt arm up. “It’s just my arm. Just one arm on one random mail girl. I’m fine. They can’t fucking kill you just for beating me up.”

Artie laughed and turned to face her. Her nose and lips were puffy from crying. “They can do whatever they want, Lou! They’re our god!” Artie said. Lou had been on the other end of an attack by her, and while that had made her afraid for her life, Artie hadn’t seemed at all uncontrolled then. This was different. She was agitated, frantic. Instead of the pinpoint focus Lou was used to from her there was the sensation that she was rapidly losing her grip on a tightly bottled frenzy. She kicked over the other tin cup of pine-sol as she gestured emphatically. Skylark winced at the sound. “I swore my life to them, it’s theirs. And I hurt you. You weren’t even involved and I hurt you for no reason. Bad. It’s their duty to give me the punishment I deserve. If they don’t teach us, then no one will learn.”

“But they–”

“They what?” Artie asked, throwing her arms out in the night air. She was still crying, but her nostrils were flared in anger, too. “You’re gonna tell Johnny Knives what they can and can’t do to their disciples?”

Lou set her jaw. “If I have to,” she said. She didn’t know where this conviction had come from all of a sudden, but she felt it. This is why she always got herself into trouble. She was always, always ready to talk big and sometimes people made you back it up.

Artie laughed again, hard enough that she seemed to stop crying. “Alright,” she said. “Go for it, cowgirl. I’m sure it’ll go exactly as you’re expecting. You can borrow my knife to cut your palm.”

“I have my own knife,” Lou said. “Y’all didn’t invent knives.”

“Great. Go ahead then. Get on your knees. Pray. Let’s see you spill some of that beautiful, clean ath-a-lete’s blood,” Artie said. She beckoned Lou and the recent scab across her own palm was cast into sharp relief by the firelight.

“Liked it so much last time that you want another look, huh?” Lou said.

[trickscourse]

I'm logging off shortly after making this, but I'm posting a series of boundaries despite nobody listening to them:

My pronouns are nig/ger (/srs) if your going to be weird about me and obsess over me. Anyone who chooses to be normal can use it/its. My system name is Station.

The AlaStation icon is a joke because of the white edits I keep seeing on my dash. It's based on an old picture of me, so stop calling me ugly.

Arty is not my friend, my attack dog or anyone I enable. She's incredibly weird about me being a disabled person and generally a minority. Please stop saying I control what shit she does or condone the shit she says.

Yes, Arty is my ex-girlfriend, we dated years ago and broke up for a number of reasons I don't want to say. She was the person who insisted Mage lied about Sunny and enabled my shitty behavior in the past.

Some people know her by her hosts name, which I'm not giving out for her sake. A few people (myself included) have posted a photo of the two of us. Please delete it.

Please stop mocking my trauma with my family police and CSA and my accident. Several people have come to me with jokes about me being "spineless" which I'm not okay with and they make me really uncomfortable.

Nobody is going to listen to this but please don't act like you know my disorders or the fact I'm Jewish more than I do. I know what I'm diagnosed with, I converted years ago and its just weird???

Stop telling me to go to hell, to kill myself or hoping my family situation gets worse or that my spine gets broken again. What the fuck is wrong with you.

I'm not my kid's parent, please stop saying that I am. I only call them my kid because they asked me to because they don't like any sibling terms. Please stop trying to contact them.

This is mostly for Arty: please stop saying I'll donate to people I don't know and using their situations as leverage.

Please, please stop insisting I'm lying about everything I say. Yes, I am an abuse victim who's been stalked, yes, there are recordings of me being abused on tumblr. I'm willing to answer most questions.

Stop making jokes about my headmates, them being my only friends or me having "evil" alters. Arty is not my alter, and insisting I use a disorder I don't like admitting I have as an excuse is ableist.

The most important thing I have to say is leave me alone. When this started earlier this year, I only agreed to the defense blog existing so I could let my "friends" defend themselves and I would be 20 steps removed because I don't have time for internet fights.

Here are all of the URLs I've used before I delete half of them any burner blogs I'm deleting:

haupkmn

alolatrial

leaderdaimon

bogscalespunchingbag (a joke in my recovery server, it's everyone's username)

lastresorttbh & secondlastresort

nekozombie

I really don't have time to use tumblr lately because I have a life outside of here. I have a boyfriend, a decent friend group, three jobs and therapy. I also have chronic pain so sitting on tumblr is a waste of my time.

Most of the time I have anon off, I just don't see or respond to DMs often because I don't have the app installed. Almost every time I'm on here it's via a browser.

Someone asked for a post talking about my feelings on Jack and an actual FAQ that I'll post later.

[littlemissclandestine]

Hello you! 💜

Glad you stopped by. Hello. Hi. Howdy! 🤠

∧,,,∧ ~ ┏━━━━━━━━┓ ( ̳• · • ̳) ~ ♡ Welcome to my blog! ♡ / づ ~ ┗━━━━━━━━┛

⭐ I'm 💫˙⋆✮ Stargirl ✮⋆˙ 💫 -> Call me Star, Des or Clan or whatever you prefer. That's what some people call me hehe

🌍 I'm a short British gal. No I don't have an accent like that

👕 Dresses and me? Nah. I'm a tomboy. Barbie can do one.

🐈 I have a kitty who is just a complete and utter floofball -> Adore animals in general. We don't deserve them

💙 If I had to pick a favourite colour, i'd say teal/blue. -> Though, I really love black and you know what? Purple and pink are starting to grow on me... (I appreciate all colours!)

🎵 Music-wise, I don't have a particular genre I listen to most. Love a bit of everything. -> The Weeknd is my go-to, however. XOTWOD ;) 🎮 I'm a video game enthusiast -> Fave video game series would probably be Metal Gear Solid but I have many games I'm fond of 🪖 Currently obsessed with COD. MW is my jam and TF141 are my comfort characters -> I'm also an unhinged Adler fangirl if you haven't noticed already. Yes, i'm very self aware, thank you ;) 🎨 In my leisure time, I love to draw, make edits, dance etc. I also love acting and photography. What can I say? I'm a creative! ✏️ I occasionally write and make ocs as well (I will share them some day soon hopefully) . -> Not a fanfic writer really but i love doing headcanons. Those fics I have written will never see the light of day. Well...maybe

See below for examples of hcs I've written: ✦ Soft!Russell Adler x Reader pt.1 ✦ Soft!Russell Adler x Reader pt.2 ✦ Soft!Vladimir Makarov x Reader (requested) ✦ Adler & Makarov Comfort Hcs pt.1 (requested) ✦ Adler Comfort Hcs pt.2

💬 Wanna chat? Feel free to message me on here or add me on discord! DM me for my username :)

TAGS:

#🎬: Star on air ( ˃ᴗ˂ ) ☆ -> me just talking about random things. text basically.

#Star answers asks! ( ˃ᴗ˂ ) ✰ -> does what it says on the tin

#Star writes headcanons! ( ˃ᴗ˂ ) ✰ -> self explanatory hehe

#Star's edits ( ˃ᴗ˂ ) ✰ -> my edits. no surprise there (though i don't share many)

#Star's bottomless waffles ☆ -> waffle posts, character analysis, essays, that sorta thing. serving ya waffle on tap ;)

#Star's been tagged! ( ˃ᴗ˂ ) ✰ -> tag game stuff!

COMING SOON:

#Star's gettin' arty ( ˃ᴗ˂ ) ✰ -> art stuff by me

COD OCs:

[redacted] -> ??? (BOCW) [redacted] -> ??? (BOCW) [redacted] -> ??? (MW) [redacted] -> ??? (MW)

dividers by @bluviddes <33

>>> Last updated: 18/04/2024

🔞Minors, please do not interact with me or my blog!

[cringefaecompilation]

hear me out. hear me out. orym and fearne are jester and artagan, but orym is artagan and fearne is jester.

and this might sound a little weird but i was rewatching the travelercon arc and the moonweaver talking to jester telling her that she couldn't care at all about artagan being punished because he's nothing but a selfish liar using people for his own gain.

and well, orym kinda is. not in the same way arty is, who's a jackass for his own amusement and does whatever pleases him... but he lies, he lies to keep his loved ones safe and to ensure the mission goes through. there is love behind his actions but it doesn't stop the twinge of selfishness that he has to be the one to end this evil in the world and nobody else. not out of arrogance or spite or vengeance, but just that it's what he's meant to do. it's what he's meant to be. nobody else deserves to go through what he went through so he'll tell them that and then turn around and put himself through their agonies.

and then there's fearne, who says she's not used to guilt or anger or fear but she's so open with her love and her trust in everyone. she hates hurting people she cares about and she feels like shit every time she has to or does (coin, shard, etc). she trusts her friends fully and will do anything for them. so yes, if orym does end up getting himself in a horrible situation due to his self-destructive actions, she would tell a god she loves him. she would do so much more.

but then also the vision of orym tied up and dangling like a tetherball by nana when she comes to collect her debt and fearne still holding onto his lil legs is funny

[sopheadraws]

When it comes to Brittany S. Pierce, people’s interpretations are all over the place. It ranges anywhere from <3 innocent babie <3, to severely cognitively impaired, to manipulative liar who pretends to be stupid so others obey their will (which I’ll later accuse her mother of, but that’s neither here nor there). Anyways, I’m adding my opinion into the cacophony because, despite the indecisive fanbase, thorough Brittany meta is lacking in quantity. Also, I tend to think my opinion is best, as is human nature.

This analysis is rooted in autistic!Brittany, and while its unnecessary since I’ll go through many of her autistic characteristics, here’s a post detailing the headcanon and a medical article describing the diagnostic criteria in simple terms if you’re unfamiliar with the disorder. I understand that not everybody considers Britt neurodivergent, and that’s totally fine - I’m always up for a healthy conversation/debate! - but please give me a heads up if you plan to respond critically because a lot of this is based on my own experiences as an autistic teenage girl, so unmentioned critiques can feel personal fast. Now without further ado:

A Deep Dive Into Brittany S. Pierce <3

Auditory Processing Disorder “APD” is a subdivision of Sensory Processing Disorder “SPD” which is a quintessential element of an autism diagnosis. APD is pretty much exactly what it sounds (haha pun) like: despite somebody’s hearing abilities, the brain fails to process auditory input properly. The APD trait I hear discussed most in autism spaces is the inability to filter out background noises, but Britt seems to struggle most with interpreting meaning from words. Sometimes when people talk to me (“dolphins are just gay sharks”), even though they’re speaking clearly and I’m very literate in English, it sounds like jumbled nonsense (“dulfanz-our-goost-gae-shorcks”). This accounts for what I’m calling Brittany’s “so close you can taste it” lines. Think of her claim that Christopher Cross discovered America or that O is the capital of Ohio; a man named Christopher C. is indeed credited with discovering America and O is the only capital letter in Ohio. As a whole, they often misunderstand things told to them directly, and it seems a lot less foolish if she only understood half of what was being said via APD.

I’m calling the category of Brittany lines that can’t usually be rationalized as possible by anybody over seven (e.g. Rory the leprechaun, storks delivering babies, and anything with Lord Tubbington) the “stranger than fanfiction lines.” Now, I could take these at face value and say she’s tapping into a magical dimension, but I have my own set of autism driven realism issues, so, without a pre-existing fantasy world, I’m using my significant brainpower to twist Brittany into plausibility =D I ultimately think the best explanation for the stranger than fanfiction lines is echolalia. Echolalia is the repetition of words or phrases, and it’s usually associated with autism. Autistic people often reuse other people’s words, and since we usually think in pictures and have various social communication problems, it’s easier than formulating new sentences. Or we just like the tongue movements/sound a word makes. Personally, I quote songs a lot - if you say something loosely related to a Taylor Swift, musical, or Glee lyric, chances are I’ll sing it - and dipsomaniacal is a new fave to say randomly. There’s some evidence for Britt doing this in canon, unrelated to the stranger than fanfiction lines. While Brittany is known for calling him Blaine Warbler, it actually originated from Rachel and the infamous spin the bottle kiss. They also repeat ‘uber weird after Blaine in the That’s So Rachel reading, and the last line of that scene is them talking in time with Blaine, a behavior seen in S1 with Santana. However, it interests me most that she calls Artie a robot, as we see her dad call Stephen Hawkin, another wheelchair user, a robot in S6.

Basically, I blame the Pierces for how terribly adjusted their child is <3 (Mostly Whitney. Assuming Pierce actually has an IQ of 40, he’s disabled too and deserves some slack in terms of spreading misinformation.) In her admittedly limited screen time, Whitney manages to do two positive things: be an LGBTQ+ ally and let her younger daughter do soccer, I guess. Otherwise, she kept the truth about Stephen Hawking from Brittany for 20 years, cheated on her husband on their honeymoon for claiming infertility, crapped in random barns, insulted her husband’s intelligence, publicly insulted her husband’s appearance, and arguably restricted her daughter’s intellectual growth. To be honest, I realize Whitney isn’t that deep and I don’t actually hate her, but if people can hate Brittany for being a comedic character from the 2010s, I’ll do the same thing to their mother in defense of Brittany. Fight stop the violence with violence, baby! Anyways, I don’t think echolalia alone can explain the stranger than fanfiction lines. At least, not without a source. And that’s usually where upbringing comes in.

I’m ruling out nature automatically because there aren’t chromosomes telling people to believe in unicorns. Well, some people - including autistic people (hehe see what I’m doing here?) - are more inclined to believe falsehoods, but falsehoods have to be fed by someone else. With autism, the reckless believing tendencies come from literal thinking in part. Also, since SPD makes processing the outside world difficult, we often can’t recognize “obvious” truths in the first place. My extended family hated watching movies with me because I used to ask questions every five seconds lol. Setting Pierce aside because he seems to follow Whitney blindly; Brittany’s unnamed sister, Sue, and Whitney are the remaining suspects.

I assume Brittany’s sister is significantly younger than Britt because she played soccer with a seven-year-old in S1 (technically she could’ve been the coach, but that throws off my theory that the Klaine/Brittana wedding was child free), and children aren’t clever or mean enough to throw off anybody’s world view so badly :) Sue does seem the obvious answer, but she didn’t meet Brittany until they started high school, and she’s consistently baffled by Britt’s behavior despite encouraging her own eccentricities in the other Cheerios. And that leaves Whitney as the perpetrator, blaming her Scientology and gambling addiction on a cat.

Finally, I do think there’s a few times when Brittany intended for her jokes to be jokes. I don’t think it happens as much as you might expect, but there’s a scene in S3 when JBI is interviewing Brittany about her class president candidacy, and she tells him she’s voting for Rick “The Stick” Nelson before turning to Santana and laughing that clued me in. I think the mentality behind these lines (the “pun intended” category) is best explained with an anecdote from my own childhood.

When I was little - maybe six or seven - I really wanted to be funny. Well, I wanted to be liked, and since I didn’t understand social cues, my solution was humor because I knew my dad told jokes which made me laugh, which made him likable! Unfortunately, as a literal thinking child, I had no idea how to do this, which meant I parroted the only joke I knew (“What time is it when an elephant sits on the table?” “Time to get a new table!”) in hopes of chuckles. This went about as badly as you would expect. After a while, my parents got rightfully fed up with this joke and got me a joke book. I had no sense which of these jokes were funny, which wasn’t helped by most of the book being about taxes, bad marriages, and other stuff aimed at adults.

It wasn’t until a routine walk to the convenient store that my comedy dreams were fulfilled. My dad, little sister, and I used to walk to the “snack store” to buy a drink each and share a candy bar. While we had some routine favorites, we also tried out new candies together. However, there were a few bars my dad refused to buy because he’d disliked them prior to our snack store outings. Most infamous of these forbidden fruits was the Zero Bar. We tended to reference the Zero Bar when picking our next treat, and on this fateful day I said, “It’s called the Zero Bar because zero people like it.”

And my dad laughed. He laughed because of something I’d said. I was elated!

The only catch up was I hadn’t actually intended it as a joke. After all my attempts to be funny, the only thing that apparently worked was speaking my mind. This singular incident didn’t rewire my understanding of humor - I attempted the parroting tactic with the Zero Bar joke after all - but it’s the most pivotal moment in my mind. To this day, I play up my neurodivergent thought process to make others laugh. I reference Glee at seemly unrelated times with mock enthusiasm to callback times I’ve mentioned Glee with real enthusiasm or talk about my other interests in forced monotones.

There isn’t any actual evidence that Brittany has the same weird complex about humor, but some of their interactions regarding stupidity parallel it. In general, when they’re away from Santana, Brittany appears fairly insecure about her neurodivergence. I might even go as far as to say that she doesn’t joke without Santana around. Now, I don’t think Britt knows what her atypicalities are until they’re presumably diagnosed at M.I.T., but every neurodivergent person I know knew something was wrong before being diagnosed. (I want to talk about how Blaine’s diagnosed autism is a foil for Brittany’s undiagnosed autism at some point, but you didn’t sign up for autistic!Blaine, so now isn’t the time.)

Anddd, that’d pretty much it for now :) I intend to write more in depth Brittany meta in the future, but this is a decent overview for the time being. I hope this made you think, and I’d love to hear your thoughts if it did!

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Hi hey hello Aly please can you rank the new directions according to how well they would do at preparing a holiday meal? I'm thinking like cooking a turkey or ham or something, all the different sides, dessert, etc etc.

HI BELLA MY BELOVED YES OFC I CAN DO THAT!!!! I'm only going to do like. OG New Directions, so like the mains from s1-2 lol

Coming in dead last at #13, we have: Rachel Berry! Girl can't cook. There is canonical evidence to support this from the season four thanksgiving episodes so I rest my case.

Next up, Finn Hudson at #12! Truthfully i think he would just be so overwhelmed by all of it and fall apart. I DO think he would make a FANTASTIC assistant though

Next, at #11: Mercedes Jones: I think she can probably follow a recipe better than Rachel, but she is a doordash girlie just like me fr i know this to be true in MY SOUL. Miss "What is this?" "Toilet brush." does not know how to make things from scratch but i fully support her love for tater tots <3

The #10 slot goes to Brittany S. Pierce! It's not that I think she can't cook. I think she would cook some of the most OUTRAGEOUS things really really well. I'm talking the shepherd's pie trifle thing from Friends except ON PURPOSE. The most heinous shit and she would genuinely like it but it's objectively terrible

First one to reach single digits at the #9 slot, we've got Puck. Lost a few spots bc he'd probably put weed in the desserts without telling anyone

#8 goes to Michael Chang! I just feel like he can follow instructions. Might not be perfect, but edible and not spiked with any illegal substances.

Up with the #7 spot is Artie Abrams! Being someone who is wheelchair bound, I feel like he prides himself on being self sufficient and learning basic cooking skills is something he'd take the time to learn. I don't think it would be gourmet or anything, but i do think it would give tasty comfort food

Coming in at #6 I put, and this might be controversial, Santana Lopez! Listen. One thing about mexicans is that we know how to cook. Something just happens and i truly believe it's in out genes but one day you just sort of wake up and realize that you don't burn your hand flipping tortillas on the grill, and i feel like those skills would translate really well to a christmas/thanksgiving dinner--especially all the traditional mexican holiday dishes? i think she'd secretly take a lot of comfort in making those for her found family

Breaching the top 5 at #5 is Tina Cohen-Chang! I feel like she's done it a couple of times with her own family and probably helped out in the kitchen growing up, just to be helpful. Generally, she seems pretty competent too so there's that

#4 goes to my beloved Sam Evans. My man practically had to raise his siblings, there is not a doubt in my mind that he already HAS made a whole ass holiday meal with what he could and it probably came out fucking delicious too! It Just Makes Sense!!

Alright up in the #3 slot is yet another one of my faves, the puppetmaster himself, Blaine Devon Anderson! Cooking pancakes for his fiance in the morning?? HIs love language is acts of service and you just know he'd love all the compliments and then brush them off like "Oh it really was nothing" but this man THRIIIIIIIVES on the love of his peers!!! Of course he's gonna cook for them!

Our runner up, taking her place firmly at the #2 slot is the Queen of McKinley, the one, the only Quinn Fabray! This one also Just Makes Sense. She was primed from a young age to basically be a trophy wife. Which. Hate that for her but I wouldn't doubt her mom had her prepping the sides at like, age ten. Her parents def would trot her skills out like a trick pony and show off how well she can "provide" for a future husband or some shit like that. Anyway, i like to think she uses these skills to make holiday dinners for those who don't have anywhere else to go <3

AND TAKING OUR TOP SPOT HERE IS LITERALLY THE MOST CHARACTER EVER: Kurt Hummel!!!!! This is literally canon. You can disagree with me on this, but you'd be wrong, His body is LITERALLY a rum chocolate souffle--if he doesn't warm it up, it doesn't rise. He makes tar-tar for housewarming parties for his future stepbrother. He planned a whole ass wedding. He realy can do it all I'm so obsessed with his little freak ass <333

THANKS SO MUCH FOR SENDING THIS!!!! I put... way too much thought into it, but i had SUCH a blast!!! <3333

they evicted my teeth. pls send me asks while i recover <3

[daughter-of-melpomene]

For the if they were canon ask game: 🎬 + Bailey Taylor, please??

@dancingsunflowers-ocs ✨💛✨

Thanks so much for this ask, Alexandra!! <3 (Also gonna tag @luucypevensie and @carmens-garden since they’re also part of the Glee OC gang!)

HOW THEY'D BE INTRODUCED:

Bailey first shows up in the first episode of season two, so I can imagine her being introduced in a scene where Tina enters her English class, maybe talking to Artie or Mike before one of them has to go to another class, before Bailey enters the classroom and asks if she can sit beside Tina. Thus begins their first conversation where Bailey compliments Tina’s aesthetic and falls in love with her <3.

WHO THE FANDOM SHIPS THEM WITH:

For sure the main ship for her would be Tina! But I can also see some people shipping her with Mercedes or Brittany, and probably even a few people would put her in a poly ship with Brittany and Santana.

WHY THE FANDOM LOVES THEM:

Not only is she a really good performer whose songs are usually a hit with the fandom, but she’s also a really cheerful, friendly, confident person who gives some of the jocks and meaner Cheerios some iconic tongue-lashings that the fandom would love to quote. I also think a lot of people would adore her relationship with Tina and her being sweet besties with Sam.

WHY THE FANDOM HATES THEM:

I think a lot of people might get annoyed with her whole Southern belle schtick after a while, and any fans who don’t like country music probably wouldn’t like her at all because that’s pretty much all she sings. A lot of people also might not like her for getting in the way of Tina and Mike or Tina and Artie, and who might accuse her of getting in the way of Brittany and Santana since she flirts back and forth with Brittany pretty regularly, even though they don’t actually like each other like that.

WHAT THE CAST RELATIONSHIP WOULD BE LIKE:

I think it would be amazing! Meg Donnelly is an absolute sweetheart, and I can definitely see her getting along amazingly with the rest of the cast, and probably even being real-life besties with Chord Overstreet.

WHAT THEIR AUDITION SCENE WOULD BE:

I imagine it would either be her first conversation with Tina in English class, or when she auditions for the New Directions with Dolly Parton’s “Dumb Blonde”. It might even be a combination of both, really, because they would need to test her singing abilities as well as her chemistry with her character’s love interest.

DEPENDING ON THE FANDOM, WHO THEY’D BE AT PRESS TOURS/COMIC CON WITH:

I’m pretty sure the Glee cast never went to any conventions, but during regular press and interviews I think Meg Donnelly would probably be with Jenna Ushkowitz, since they play love interests, or Chord Overstreet since their characters are besties! I think either combination would result in really cute interviews and lots of jokes and giggling.

IF THEY SPOIL THINGS:

I’m pretty sure Meg Donnelly never actually has, but I can still see her spoiling one or two things during interviews, like when Bailey and Tina finally get together or what song would be coming up for Bailey and Sam’s next duet.

IF THE SHOW/MOVIE HAS ENDED, IF THEY’RE HAPPY WITH THEIR CHARACTER’S ENDING AND THE ENDING AT LARGE:

I think Meg Donnelly would be happy with both. After all, Bailey ends the show having just signed a recording contract with a big country label and engaged to the lady she loves; I doubt any actor wouldn’t be happy with an ending like that.

send me 🎬 + an oc!!