#but its not particularly emotionally heavy

[skitskatdacat63]

@ all my irl friends atm, so sorry, can't hang out, I'm too tired of participating in normal society

[raayllum]

Sometimes it hits just how tonally different The Dragon Prince is from virtually every other kids show on TV and I lose my mind. I'd argue something like Infinity Train gets closest with its emphasis on psychological horror and morality, or even Transformers: Prime (if you know, you know) with its severe focus on war (aka one of the more lowkey episodes is a main character having a suicide bomb forcibly strapped to their chest). Steven Universe Future and Jurassic World: Camp Cretaeceous/Chaos Theory are also probably honourable mentions.

All of these shows have mature content in them, which isn't different from more popular shows like Owl House, She-Ra, or even ATLA, but often times in aforementioned three that content is presented in lighter ways and/or interrupted by bathos (this is true for She-Ra in particular). Most of TOH's heaviness is reserved for S2 Hunter or S3 Luz; ATLA has some episodes that particularly emotionally heavy (The Southern Raiders, Zuko Alone, the Southern Air Temple) or are quite hitting in exploring themes of colonization (Imprisoned, City of Walls and Secrets, Northern Air Temple), but a good deal, I'd say even the majority, are also pretty fun shenanigans, too. To be clear as well, a lighter tone is not a Problem never mind a negative (ATLA has a very strong thematic point to its own about the sanctity of children and childhood amid the horrors of how imperialism strips it away), but it is a tonal difference.

And it's not as though TDP doesn't have episodes where there are fun shenanigans (Callum and Rayla's initial exploration of Xadia in 3x02 is nothing but fluff, Soren and Corvus are a more gay comedic duo in 6x02) but the series more or less operates like "What if every episode was The Southern Raiders?" due to its consistent emphasis on grief and morality. They use words like kill and death and murder all the time.

From the pilot / opening episodes

and to when characters are having breakdowns because they murdered someone (and we're still supposed to like them) or have done horrible things, with the show's heaviness ramping up particularly from S4 onwards.

When loved ones die (and the show has a body count of 20+ named characters who have died, six seasons in, some even being children) the show depicts mourning in all its stages and ugly glory. The sadness, the anger, the revenge, the desperation, shifting blame and cognitive dissonances, thinking you had moved on only for that wound (which never fully healed) to be ripped wide open again.

Characters get tortured by being electrocuted or having their blood frozen in their veins or beaten up (5x08). There are successful assassination attempts (1x03, 3x02). People, even children younger than the main cast of characters, are put on trial with the death penalty (4x06, 6x09). Within the first three episodes, a character is running down stairs and tripping over dead bodies.

Sometimes three different characters in one episode will be having a breakdown or dealing with something absolutely devastating to their emotional state (2x08, 3x07, 6x01, 6x09, 7x01). The magic system is a trolley problem on steroids. Do you kill a monster to feed starving kingdoms, or to save yourself, or to save someone you love? What makes it a monster? What if the monster isn't a monster? What if you have to kill a child? What if it means killing your child? What if it means killing yourself?

There are two characters who canonically have cannibalized other people, one being a blood-drinker / vampire variant.

This doesn't mean the show isn't fun or funny. One character consistently thinks bathroom humour is funny (while being one of the most tragic characters in the entire show). The characters cheer each other up, take care of each other, are goofy, etc. The show is ultimately hopeful.

But the emotional weight afforded to the choices the characters are making, even good-intentioned ones with unforeseen disastrous consequences, the way show focuses on their emotional processing (or lack of) is very unique in the landscape of western animation, especially to this degree, I think. Never mind the increasing amounts of blood. Nor does this make the show inappropriate for children! Tiny me was morbid as fuck at 7 years old, I would've loved it, and I know many kids from ages 7-12 who do in my work as a tutor. But when people say "TDP isn't like most kids shows," I think what that means is sometimes lost in translation in conflating it with what people usually say aren't 'just kids shows,' when TDP... really, really isn't.

The show begins with assassins sent by a grieving mother to execute a father and his child in revenge for the father killing her partner and child, and it never lets you forget it.

[wandering-winchesters]

After the Battle

Summary: After a grueling hunt, you and Dean share a rare moment of closeness.

The hunt had been grueling, one of those jobs that left you both physically and emotionally drained. You and Dean had barely escaped with your lives, the battle against a particularly nasty group of demons taking its toll. As you finally made it back to the safety of the bunker, the weight of everything that had happened began to sink in.

You dropped your bag at the door, exhaustion pulling at every muscle in your body. Dean was right behind you, his own movements slower, more deliberate, as if he was running on sheer willpower alone. The silence between you was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension of close calls and near misses.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the reality of what you’d just been through too overwhelming to put into words. You glanced at Dean, taking in the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of the burden he always seemed to carry. His face was a mask of stoic resolve, but you could see the cracks forming at the edges, the weariness that even he couldn’t completely hide.

Before you knew what you were doing, you crossed the distance between you and threw your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. It was instinctual, a desperate need to feel him close, to reassure yourself that he was still here, still alive. You felt him tense at first, clearly caught off guard, but then he relaxed, his arms coming up to wrap around you in return.

The embrace was tentative at first, almost awkward, like neither of you was sure if this was okay, if this was something you were allowed to have. But as the seconds passed, Dean’s grip on you tightened, and you felt him lean into you, his head dipping to rest against your shoulder.

You held him close, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized just how much you needed this—how much you needed him. The scent of leather and the faint trace of gunpowder clung to him, grounding you in the present, reminding you that you weren’t alone. He was here, and so were you.

Dean let out a shaky breath, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair, the other resting firmly on your back. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes. You could feel the unspoken words in the way he held you, the things he couldn’t say out loud. Thank you. I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.

You closed your eyes, savoring the rare moment of closeness. This was different from anything you’d ever experienced with him before—softer, more intimate. For once, the world outside didn’t matter. The monsters, the dangers, the constant fight for survival—it all faded away, leaving just the two of you, holding on to each other like you were each other’s lifeline.

When you finally pulled back, it was slow, reluctant, neither of you really wanting to let go. Dean’s hands lingered on your arms, his gaze searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice rough and quiet, but there was a softness in his eyes that took your breath away.

You offered him a small, reassuring smile. “Anytime.”

He nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was something different in his expression now—something open, vulnerable, that you hadn’t seen before. It made your heart ache in the best possible way.

“Let’s get some rest,” you suggested, feeling the exhaustion catching up to you again.

Dean agreed with a tired nod, but before you could turn to head to your room, he reached out, catching your hand in his. The gesture was small, almost hesitant, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before finally letting go, turning to walk down the hallway to your room. As you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the blankets you pulled around yourself.

It wasn’t just the hunt that had changed things tonight. Something between you and Dean had shifted, something important. And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that no matter what came next, you had each other. And that was more than enough.

tag list: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester

[polarisbibliotheque]

Vergil and his s/o training together

Or Vergil and his s/o spar for foreplay fun!

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: With your sword recently broken, Vergil gave you a new devil arm to get used to. He is also your mentor when it comes to fighting - but being his lover doesn't mean he's going to go easy on you. Quite the contrary.

Restrictions: None, BUT I should tell you: lots of sexual tension in this one. What can I say, Vergil is a weird guy, sparring with his lover does things to him. Nothing explicit though, you know how I roll. Also, reader gets bruises from training/sparring. He's rough and doesn't hold back, I mentioned it before I think Vergil has this "only the strong survive" mentality, and I do think he gets ruthless as a sign of respect for his lover's abilities rather than anything else.

Author's Notes: I blame @yanderebishforlevi for this one after they dropped an ask I just answered :) I'm focusing on the Halloween specials, but that made me go through my unfinished, discarded, short stuff on limbo and rehash/put it together to post something new here.

Simple stuff, not really much of a story, just some training with sexy, bared arms, ruthless, emotionally constipated man. That's why I never thought about posting, it felt like it was missing something a plot so I was going to put it in Nemesis but, oh well. Hope you guys like it xD

“We’re done for today.”

Vergil’s words sounded final, as he lowered the Yamato after a devastating blow that had you tumbling back and struggling to fall on your knees – scraping them in a way you would have some bruises to display for a couple of days at least.

“Given it’s my training session, love…” You growled while pulling yourself back on your feet, using your sword as a crutch for help. Vergil observed you with those cutting silvery eyes, almost as if questioning your resolve to pull yourself up. Again. “I say when we are done. And I am not done.”

“You are being terribly stubborn, that is.” Vergil had Yamato back in its sheath, arms crossed while curiously watching you take your coat off, having only your training clothes underneath.

“Well, at least we got that in common, Dark Slayer.” You carefully watched as Vergil mirrored you and took off his own long coat, leaving his arms bare for the first time that night. He only did that when he was about to get rough during training – and you had to huff a laugh. “I’m only standing down when I master this damned sword, and apparently I’m not even close to that.”

“You are closer than you were when we started.” He took a deep breath, already choosing a fighting stance since you were doing the same – walking slowly in a circle, observing him with a pair of predatorial eyes. Vergil was used to be under that scrutiny around demons, but when it came to your eyes, they were threatening… And bewitching.

“And I would be even closer, if you hadn’t been cheating this whole time.” You narrowed your eyes, allowing a smirk color the corner of your lips as Vergil froze in place – you could even bet he stopped breathing for a fraction of a second.

“Cheating…?” His voice was dangerously low, words alarmingly taking their time, savoring every syllable of that little word. You knew you had struck a nerve – but, in your defense, Vergil had been striking your nerves ever since you started training a few hours prior.

It had been a couple of weeks you had a new sword in your inventory: big, heavy, resembling a claymore. Dante and Vergil had killed one particularly powerful demon that ended up becoming the sword now in your hands: brimming with demonic power, ready to be wielded to bring doom to its enemies. You had your previous sword broken into shards while protecting Nero during one of your jobs – a story for another time – and Vergil thought the claymore of sorts would be a nice replacement.

A new weapon, though, meant a lot of new things: new grip, new balance, new weight, new powers… So much to master, but you had to learn soon in order to keep up with your devil hunter job. Halloween was approaching and, given how chaotic the last few years were, you had to at least master the basics soon enough.

Vergil, being the thoughtful partner and lover of knowledge that he was, offered to help you train and master your new sword – all his arcane teachings would surely come in handy when dealing with a devil arm.

You had a problem, though. Learning and mastering things on your own was almost a given, and you always expected to do it at your pace – meaning, you didn’t have much patience to not be at least good and easily fighting after a few hours of practice. With a mentor like Vergil, though, that process was taking double the time.

He was relentless. You being his lover just meant he would go twice as hard on you – in his dictionary, it probably meant how much he adored you; but in your dictionary, you were absolutely and infinitely vexed that, by now, you hadn’t been able to at least get to a tie with him.

And that was something you always proudly said you could do.

“Yes. Cheating.” You held your sword with only one hand, throwing it behind your body and having your eyes fixed on your lover. That way, when you or him decided to attack, you could use all your strength to lunge forward. “You got exponentially worse every time I lost and got back on my feet again; you haven’t made it easier nor remained with the same level of fighting from the beginning. You are making it more difficult for me. If you hadn’t, I would’ve already had my sword on your throat by now.”

“Tsk.” You smiled as Vergil finally had that nonchalant attitude, but his eyes burned like the coldest circles of Hell. With a swift move, he unsheathed the Yamato and attacked you – as you had already prepared before, you threw your sword forward, immediately able to parry. He quickly tried another attack, but you managed to grip your sword with both of your hands and hold him back. You found Vergil’s silvery eyes staring at you sharply between the blades of your swords. “Don’t expect demons to have mercy just because the sight of you eclipses even the moon herself.”

“If we weren’t sparring, I’d take that as a compliment.” You had a small laugh hidden amidst your words, clearly seeing the shadow of a smile Vergil tried to conceal before he pushed you back with only half of his might – still having you stumble back and use whatever energy you had left to keep your body balanced.

“Your human body won’t be able to take it for too long.” And even if Vergil was trying to convince you to stand down, he still circled you, keeping his own predatorial gaze on your form and tense shoulders to quickly get into a fighting stance. You weren’t one easy to convince when you had your mind set on something, that he had to admit. “We should call it a day and tend your wounds. Your body doesn’t have the same resilience a devil’s body has.”

“I would have a lot more if you hadn’t been ruthless with me, love.” You pointed at some slight marks on your body – nothing too jarring, but still making an appearance here and there. “These bruises are on you.”

With those words, it was your turn to lunge forward and attack first. Vergil easily defended with a swift move from Yamato, trying an attack right after. You managed to defend as well, holding him still for a few seconds.

“They will make you stronger.” Were the only words he managed to answer before you attacked again. Vergil seemed to fight effortlessly, while you had to muster all your strength to wield your new sword – Vergil was right to say your body wouldn’t last for too long: you were already tired, thanks to his training, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to back down. And he knew that.

Even if Vergil worried about your stamina, he couldn’t deny how much he admired – and had a pang of pride in his own heart – every time you displayed that much willpower.

With a calculated attack to disarm you, Vergil was certain your playing would come to an end and he would have the final word on that argument – he did not expect, though, a graceful move from your side, spinning such a heavy sword in one of your hands and making it face down, coming between you and him and completely breaking his stance, foiling Vergil’s attempt to end your resolve.

You quickly threw your sword a little on the air in front of you in order to let go from the grip and hold the blade itself – strong enough to be able to wield it, but careful not to hurt yourself in the process – which gave you the perfect opportunity to spin around him and smack the hilt of your sword on his back.

Vergil slowly turned his head around, still impressed by your swift move after being so tired, only to find you with a smug smile on your lips.

“It will make you stronger.” You pointed at him with the hilt of your sword, throwing it slightly in the air again so you could grab the hilt with one hand and then another.

Vergil kept his back at you, calmly walking to the other side of the room so you could take your initial stances again – but this time you saw him shaking his head and heard a low chuckle coming from him.

Vergil was a survivor, one that lived the law of the jungle for so long that sparring and teasing his partner was one of the best ways to entertain him. To say you were both having fun was an understatement.

“Apparently, I haven’t been ruthless enough with you.” He turned around, holding Yamato’s hilt with both of his hands. You had to hold back a smile – that was one of his stances that usually meant Vergil was starting to lose his patience and considering going all out.

And that usually happened when he recognized you were starting to get the upper hand – which meant he saw your playful sword smack as a sign you were starting to get the hang of things.

After all, you only did that sort of thing with your old sword. Comparing to the way you both used to spar, he was going considerably easier on you tonight.

“Let’s remedy that.” His voice was almost a growl as his feet moved like lightning on the floor.

You had to put all your concentration in that fight – your eyes never leaving the Yamato, quickly finding the blade in the air from its shimmer and parrying with your heavy claymore. Using your weight, you pushed Vergil back – which only worked because he saw it as an opportunity to power another heavy attack to try to get you off-balance. You stumbled a little, but quickly gained your balance once more, holding back another quick attack from your lover – something quite frustrating for him, as you observed in his furrowed brows.

Even if he wasn’t going easy on you, it was the first time Vergil was tapping into some of his demonic abilities – strength, speed and power, for starters – and you took that as a compliment. If he wasn’t going to cut you some slack, he could at least fight you the same way he always did – and Vergil never really held back when fighting you.

As he said before, it would only make you stronger. And that was why you could easily fight some of the most frightening demons of Hell without even breaking a sweat.

Vergil didn’t take long to attack you again. He had that look in his eyes he only used when he was hunting, leaving no room for mercy. You held your sword in a vertical position right in front of you, having the Yamato hit the flat blade of your claymore with enough power to have you and Vergil recoil a little from the impact.

Thankfully, your sword was sturdy enough to take a powerful blow from a legendary blade and its less than formidable wielder and not shatter. That was something you would remember later, for now Vergil attacked again and you defended, holding back a series of lightning quick attacks that required all your attention, strength and speed – as well as both of your hands holding your new sword in order to be able to avoid all of the attacks.

As expected, though, you hadn’t mastered your claymore yet. Your grip faltered in one of your hands, and Vergil’s predator eyes were quick enough to notice that and see a window of opportunity. Spinning the Yamato on his hand, Vergil gripped its hilt and used the butt-end to hit your hands and make you lose your grip on your sword.

As you tried to recover without losing too much of your stance, Vergil took the chance to spin around you – as you did before with him – and use the sheath of the Yamato to smack your back. A bit lower, and he would’ve smacked your ass – at least, he allowed you to keep a little of your pride, as you allowed him when you chose not to do that as well.

You immediately leaned the tip of your sword on the floor, side-eyeing your lover – only to find him with his head held high, that convinced expression he would always wear whenever he had the upper hand, along with a ghost of a smile you knew very well.

“Shall we continue…?” His words were crowned with his usual slight tinge of arrogance, as you turned around and adjusted your grip around the hilt of your sword. “Or will you finally yield and allow me to take care of those wounds?”

“As my lover, you should know, Vergil…” You sighed and snapped your neck from side to side, getting back into position to fight. He had to raise one of his eyebrows, ever so impressed with your resilience. “I do not yield.”

His only answer was a smile before your powerful attack, holding you back with the Yamato still sheathed, using one of his feet behind his body as an anchor so he wouldn’t fall over. Even in his wildest dreams, Vergil could never had imagined he would find someone who would give such flawless answers. Yes, he wanted to care for you. But how could he deny the fire he saw in you when you said such things? It was the same fire that kept him alive for so many years; the same fire that made him get back on his feet even when defeat was certain, when all hope was lost, and only death and blood were expected. The same fire that made Vergil defy all odds and save himself, over and over again.

He didn’t know how he had found you neither how he could deserve you, but he did hope you remained for as long as he could have you.

With another attack, he took the opportunity to unsheathe his sword, using both the blade and the sheath to defend himself from a string of attacks as ruthless as those he had attacked you before. You didn’t see an opportunity, but you knew Vergil relied on a few tricks up his metaphorical sleeves, so you acted quickly to do the same he did before – and with the hilt of your claymore, you weakened his grip on the sheath, quickly spinning your sword and hitting it with all your might, making the blue sheath fly across the training ground. Vergil immediately held Yamato’s grip with both of his hands, trying not to let his surprise show on his face.

You could see it in his silvery eyes, though. You already knew how to expertly access them, to find Vergil’s emotions underneath the icy façade he used to wear. You had an advantage that made your heart swell and bolstered your resolve – and that Vergil was also able to read in your eyes. He fought back, putting a little more of his strength and power into a few riposte attacks, stopping your advances and making you fall a few steps back.

It wouldn’t be fair if he started using his demonic might when your body was almost giving out – but Vergil had to recognize you were lasting a lot longer than he expected. He thought, by now, your physical body wouldn’t be able to keep going, completely unrelated to your willpower. But there you were, proving him wrong – and making him fall even more in love with you, if that was even possible.

Your hands trembled a bit, though. You kept your eyes locked in his, reading his every move, his every emotion – and Vergil did the same, as if your fight didn’t rely on your swords anymore. As he got ready for another devastating attack, your sword found his in the air and, spinning your blades together, you brought them down with a flick of your wrist, having them rest together a few inches inside the ground.

You turned your back for a few seconds to catch your breath, pain starting to ebb through your arms. Vergil took some steps back in amazement, since that move was a first: you had never taken a break from a fight by disarming him as well as yourself, even if for a few seconds; you only asked with words and it usually took a few minutes. He observed you carefully – part of him reading if your body was going to give out and part of him reading if you would jump on him unexpectedly. Vergil didn’t know what to expect, but he could feel his blood tingling at his fingertips, ready to take action with whatever it is that you had for him.

After a few seconds, you immediately turned around, locking your hands around the grip of your sword once more and lifting it from the ground. Vergil couldn’t believe you still wanted to fight – and even win – but mirrored your speed and had Yamato back in his grip once more.

A few more attacks. He could see your hands trembling. A few more steps. He could hear your shaking breaths. A few more swift moves. He could see the relentless fire inside your eyes.

Vergil didn’t make it easier because of your crumbling endurance – if you broke, it would serve as a lesson on assessing your own energy and how far you could go. As you knew right from the start, Vergil wasn’t a forgiving mentor and would push you to your limit – he didn’t exactly expect you would do the same thing with yourself as he did to himself in order to improve his fighting to perfection.

A flick of his wrist. A powerful move from your hands. You found yourselves drenched in sweat, in the middle of your training space, the Yamato touching your neck, and your claymore touching the skin on Vergil’s throat.

You had your eyes locked into his silvery gaze, the gleaming blades of your swords ignored as the only thing that dictated that fight was your willpower – yours and Vergil’s. As you looked into each other’s reflections, you stated something you didn’t have to say out loud to be understood: neither of you would ever yield.

As that knowing reached Vergil’s heart, that was only one thing he could really do – something his logical mind and demonic pride could never fathom as the proper response to that situation, but his human heart burned to have him do it. His free hand cupped your face, pulling you into an immediate kiss.

When your lips found his, you used your free hand to anchor yourself in place by holding the back of his neck, pulling Vergil towards you. It was a kiss that burned with the very same fire he saw in your eyes, the one he mirrored in his soul and rarely let out as something other than willpower to keep on surviving. That fire was a will to live, a will to keep going, a will for life… A lust to experience, to burn bright and intensely, to take everything existence had to offer. A lust you could only safely explore with each other, not having to channel that only into surviving, but also into living life as it should be lived.

One of the things Vergil would always tell you, was to never let your guard down. You could be calm and collected, apparently unprepared, but always aware of your surroundings – and ready to kill at every waking moment.

Anything could be a distraction, anything could be a weakness. Being that close to you, in the middle of a fight, with that whirlwind of emotions stirring like a lightning storm that had to have its energy released somehow… Even if you had your sword still in one of your hands as he had Yamato in his, your blades were lowered - you had your grip almost letting go, ready to forget it on the floor.

You had your guard down.

“A demon would have killed you by now.” Vergil’s voice was but a rough whisper as he broke the kiss, his lips barely away from yours, hot breath still ghosting on your skin.

“A demon wouldn’t have kissed me.”

Both of your swords found the floor in unison, as your hands found each other with your lips locking in another breathless kiss.

Fortunately, you were both imperfectly human.

[sleeplesssmoll]

Reverse 1999 Connections to History: Wandering Womb & Hysteria

Isolde, Evangeline, and many other women were diagnosed with these "afflictions". This is a SFW run-down of Wandering Womb & Hysteria. I won't go into graphic details about anything, but its still one of the darker aspects of history. If this makes you uncomfortable, please skip over this post or stop reading!

For those who read on, we have a special historical figure with a last name you should all be familiar with! I'm excited to share my findings with you! All sources will be listed below. If I was a good Smol I'd include in text citations but I forgot to do it as I went. But who doesn't enjoy a scavenger hunt? Channel your Sonetto energy and read on!

Please feel free to add on or correct anything I got wrong. I left out A LOT for the sake of brevity and sensitivity but there is a lot to chew on in this topic.

Wandering Womb Concept:

Definition: Belief that a displaced uterus caused various medical issues in women.

Description: Aretaeus (2nd century AD) described the uterus as moving freely within the body, reacting to smells, akin to "an animal within an animal."

Scent therapy: Like an animated creature, the uterus was believed to be attracted to sweet and pleasant perfumes and repulsed by foul smells.

However, future generations would move away from blaming the womb and pin the blame on women's "weaker" minds and bodies. It's one of the "illnesses" used to demonize or claim superiority over women. The way this illness was weaponized is extremely sinister but I'll leave it to the reader to look further into that if they want to. A Victorian woman going through menopause was often considered to be emotionally unstable. During this 'climacteric period', she may well have been prescribed leeching or bloodletting from the ankle. Her doctor would have advised against reading novels, going to parties and dancing. For a 45 – 50 year old Victorian woman, an onslaught of instability and madness was considered inevitable. Interesting how the "curse" on the women in Isolde's family killed them before they passed the age of 40.

The bullshitters (There's more well-known men with opinions but I'll keep this short and relevant to Reverse 1999):

Aretaeus: Advocated the mobile uterus theory. The origin of bullshit.

Edward Jorden: Popularized the concept in the 17th century through his treatise "The Suffocation of the Mother" (1603), linking it to hysteria and witchcraft. The spreader of bullshit. The Suffocation of the Mother connected the phenomenon of hysteria with actions like singing, laughing, crying, and choking.

Hysteria:

The idea of hysteria linked to the wandering womb, evolved from ancient Greek "hysterical suffocation." It was described as exhibiting a wide array of symptoms, including anxiety, shortness of breath, fainting, nervousness, sexual desire, insomnia, fluid retention, heaviness in the abdomen, irritability, loss of appetite for food or sex, even sexually forward behavior, and a "tendency to cause trouble for others". It is no longer recognized by medical authorities as a medical disorder. Its diagnosis and treatment were routine for hundreds of years in Western Europe. Even though it was categorized as a disease, hysteria's symptoms were synonymous with normal functioning female sexuality. In the context of hysteria, every symptom and negative thought was linked to sex (also it was problem if you didn't want sex either). Essentially, you were "sick" because you were a woman. Woman disease. How dare females exist 😰

Hysteria was thought to affect only women until the early 1600s. Thomas Willis' concluded Hysteria originated in the brain, not the uterus, implying it could affect men. Despite Willis' findings, hysteria remained a common diagnosis for women, particularly in Victorian times.

Franz Anton Mesmer advanced the theory of hysteria, influencing John Elliotson and James Braid. Elliotson believed mesmerism was particularly effective for hysteria, noting it was not exclusive to women and also affected boys and men. Mesmerism is hypnotic induction held to involve animal magnetism, but we usually use the word "hypnotism". This man appeared in an old journal I was skimming and jump scared me!

Freud's Influence:

Freud shifted focus from physiological to psychological causes. He moved away from Charcot’s hereditary theories, emphasizing psychological rather than genetic or physiological triggers (mind rather than body). Repression is the basis for hysteria. Traumatic memories must be repressed to cause hysterical symptoms. Freud’s therapy aims to bring repressed memories to consciousness to alleviate symptoms. We can see Kakania using this method on Isolde.

Seduction Theory: Freud initially believed that actual childhood sexual abuse caused hysteria but later revised this to include fantasies. This shift was influenced by public resistance and scientific criticism.

Freud's Contributions to Hysteria Theory

Etiology based on nurture, not heredity.

Pubescent experiences as triggers, not causes.

Hysteria redefined as a psychological, not physiological (this one is a very big deal. He was quack, but this shift in perspective is why we've progressed so far in caring for people with PTSD, depression, and so on).

Emphasis on sexual infantile experiences and repression.

Gender distinctions in hysteria based on psychological attitudes towards abuse.

Modern Diagnoses and Connections: Symptoms previously labeled as hysteria are now diagnosed as:

Somatic Symptom Disorder: Characterized by physical symptoms that cannot be explained by medical conditions.

Dissociative Disorder: Involves a disconnection from reality, often linked to trauma.

Conversion Disorder: Involves neurological symptoms without a neurological basis, often linked to psychological factors.

However, there are many other potential diagnosis since hysteria is so broad and vague.

Sources

[snailfen]

funny ii character music tastes headcanons:

i think if you showed suitcase adrienne lenker she would not emotionally recover. the sound and vulnerability in her songs would get to her. also Not from her band Big Thief would specifically would hit her hard

knife listens to lady gaga. to me knife is like that really gruff and masculine but not homophobic coworker and if you asked him if he was gay he'd say "probably" while like lighting a cigarette and then turning on heavy metal lover or something

i think lightbulb would listen to any song as long as its not depressing or sad but truthfully i really think she would like weird al's polka remixes. like taking any song and making it fun and silly is definitely a lightbulb thing

cheesy would also like weird al but not the same way lightbulb does. other than that i think he really likes any song with particularly clever wordplay

soap would unironically be a big video game OST listener i feel. its better music for when youre doing something like cleaning!

trophy doesnt listen to music often instead he turns on some fuckass male-only podcast but not even one thats like misogynistic or abt the sigma male grindset its just these two guys trying to get big off of talking about anything and its really uninteresting but not to trophy. anyways thats what he listens to while he struggles to get through a pushup

oh go ahead and show taco chappell roan i think she'd really like femininomenon. oh and also im sure the situationship songs wont get to her

nickel listens to weezer. source: it came to me in a dream and i have no other rationale for it

[superblysubpar]

Princesses Can Slay Dragons Too:

dad!eddie munson x mom!fem!reader

an Easy Like Sunday Morning story

summary: you're overworked and stressed, Eddie's an oblivious but well meaning husband & dad, and a trip to the cabin with familiar faces might be just what you all needed. | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

7.7k words (listen, I know it has no business being this long. I worked on it for a year. Idk what happened, okay?)

warnings: please read the new "general warnings" on the masterlist linked above - "reader" has a "name/nickname", mentions of Ronance, mentions of alcohol, mom stress and a little bit of description of some blood/injury and parental panic/ descriptions of shock about it. There is a twinge of "poetic", quick descriptions of smut as well as brief discussion of "unplanned" pregnancies.

This started from an ask last March, which I've since lost (so sorry anon if you're still out there), and it grew and sat and grew some more and then sat some more and now here it is. I've grown very, extremely, emotionally proud and fond of it. Hope ya like it! 💛

Summer, 2004

“Baby, volume,” your voice calls out over the faint music playing, the thrum of wheels against the highway and the wind. Eyes remain shut, but furrowed lines form above your brows when you hear the familiar ding of a coin being grabbed. A palm rests on your thigh, fingers squeeze gently around it as the music of the level starts its loop again. 

You need a coffee. Or thirty. Yes, thirty is good. 

“Squirt,” his tone full of warning, yet somehow still sounding sweeter than the syrup that clings to all of their fingers and the gray fabric of the old van’s seats.

Despite the early morning breakfast stop at McDonald’s being nearly twenty-four hours ago, and your insistence on packed sandwiches and veggies for lunch, and a stop for a sit down dinner - the stale scent of greasy food feels heavy in the air. Which has your brain cycling through the list that will rid your family of the trip when you reach your final destination - get out of the car, wrangle them into pajamas, teeth brushed, fight about sleeping when it’s already almost morning, clothes into washing machine, air out the car, make the grocery list for the week…

Screw coffee - you need a shower, you need a shot of alcohol, you already need a vacation from your vacation. 

A particularly loud grunt and the sound of something hitting or fighting or shooting has you opening your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them to find the dark highway lit by two gold headlights, showing off the yellow lines flashing past the driver’s window. Your mouth parts, ready to be the one to tell them no, like you always are, when he stops you. 

He grabs your hand, his thumb soothing over your knuckles as his voice drifts gently into the backseat, “Come on, I don’t wanna take it away…”

It’s endearing, the way he always tries, the way he gives them a couple of chances. Because at this point, you’re ready to take the damn game and chuck it out the window. This level is haunting you, all you’ve heard every second of every day, even when you’re peeing or trying to shower. You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming in the pixelated graphics, the sound effects now accompanying your daily tasks. 

A loud sigh falls from the backseat and with it, you’re certain the console is nudged one level lower. 

You hate that of all of your children, the one most like him is still awake. 

Sure, they’re all little gremlins, heathens, as he likes to call them - little tenacious mini monster versions of him that drive you up the wall but somehow make your chest ache with too much love. 

But this one, this one takes the cake every time. 

Eddie beats you to it again, the silver of his rings glinting in the green light of the dashboard as he lets go of your hand to reach into the back without looking. Out of the corner of your eye you see his bicep flexing, gently shaking the tiny knee in his big hand as he talks to the road sternly, “Lace. Volume off completely until I say otherwise, or Mario and Luigi are my best friends the rest of the week, capisce?”

“Caposh,” she grumbles, big red chucks swinging up towards the console and back down, her little legs don’t quite touch the ground yet, much to her dismay. 

You keep reminding her that she has lots of time to be as big as her siblings, that her ever growing shoe size and the jeans you bought for the upcoming school year (which she’s already complaining are too tight - remember, you need to ask Katie about hand me downs from Liv, or shit, maybe even Grace, this weekend) tell you she is going to keep growing - and fast. Part of you can’t wait, and the other part wishes she’d slow down. 

The sound vanishes completely and Eddie’s hand finds its way to your thigh again when you sigh. The part that wishes she’d grow up faster stirs, lit by the flicker of resentment when she listens to him so easily and not you. 

Eddie’s fingers run up your thigh, then back down, skin beneath the denim buzzing as he squeezes softly and clears his throat. 

“I think someone deserves an apology though, don’t you? ‘Cause I believe I heard you were asked already…”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks and you can’t help but look over your shoulder at her when she does. 

For once, her eyes are on you and not the game, big and brown - just like his - and truly sorry. You smile softly as her brows furrow under bangs that just refuse to stay straight. She blows them away with a big huff as she whines, “It’s just so hard.”

Your head nods, temple resting on the seat as you murmur, “Yeah, I know. Thank you for turning the volume off when your dad asked though, I really appreciate it.”

Eddie swallows, his finger aimlessly circles over the skin above your knee as he blinks at the road. 

He’s always amazed when you do that. 

Far more patient than anyone deserves, far more understanding than any of them appreciate, and much too good to him. For him. Especially with how things have been lately. 

Eddie knew it’d been a little rough, with him being gone so much and the kids’ schedules just growing more cramped as they got older - summer was no longer the lazy days of kids riding around on their bikes and doing squat. It was full of sports and clubs, friends, all requiring a constant need to be dropped off, picked up, carted too and fro on seemingly hellbent on never lining up schedules. He’d been trying, he really had, to help you balance it all, but he had tunnel vision for things at work, he was so focused on his own shit he didn’t realize how much everything was affecting you. 

How much being alone with three kids, two goldfish (scratch that, one, but still), a dog, and a house that seemed to have endless tasks to keep it running was breaking you. 

He finds your hand and pulls interlaced fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles, your wrist, your palm, all while keeping his eyes on the road. You close yours again, trying to focus on the soft press of his lips to your skin and not the reason why he’s doing it. 

You know he’s thinking about last weekend.

On Friday, Caroline had complained that you only sewed new straps on her ballet slippers instead of getting new ones altogether. She was practically in tears because all the other girls in class had new leotards, new skirts, and new shoes and you promised you’d figure something out. She retreated with red cheeks and a slam of the bedroom door, stereo blaring behind it, the cusp of terrible teenage years promising to be worse than the twos. 

After that, Michael shoved you off when you tried to hug him as you dropped him at the school for a baseball practice with an exasperated, “God, mom, stop!” - nine was grown up and he was much too cool to be a momma’s boy anymore apparently. 

And to top it all off, Lacey had been following you around the house, that stupid game dinging and singing everywhere you went, one of the fish died and Lacey asked when it was coming back, and you somehow burnt the hamburger helper for dinner.  

When Eddie got home, he found you hunched over the coffee table next to a precariously placed glass of red wine, a sock in one hand and a shirt in the other, piles of laundry neatly folded around you and your favorite movie playing on the TV. If it weren’t for the position that was sure to have your back feeling rough tomorrow, your soft, even breathing revealed you were dead asleep. 

He had tried to ease you up, move you to the bedroom while trying not to wake you like he used to when his body was much younger, but you had shot up at the touch of his hand, the lightest sleeper of a mother of three. You blinked heavy eyelids while mumbling through sleep thick words about lunches for the two eldest who would be gone all the next day. Eddie had assured you he’d make them, and you were fairly certain you were back to sleep before your head touched the pillow. 

The next day though, something inside of you snapped. 

It had been better than the one before, but not great. You hadn’t showered, there was a leak in the kitchen that hadn’t gotten any better all week. The only break you had all day was picking the kids up from their activities, and making them a snack as soon as they dropped gear in haphazard piles in the entryway. 

After hours on hold, you just started clanging around with tools you didn’t know how to use, your head throbbing from the lack of coffee or water and the sound of Mario grabbing another coin somewhere to your right. 

Where was the real plumber you had asked Eddie to call? Maybe, if you concentrated hard enough, Mario would leap out of Lacey’s console, climb down the drain, and fight off the little mushroom guy who was-

You smacked the wrench against the pipe, repeatedly, like it had personally threatened you. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Sweetheart, stop! You’re gonna break it!” 

Eddie grabbed your wrist, pulling you up to see him standing with pizza boxes and staring at you with wide, blinking eyes. For a second, the sight of short curls starting to gray on the ends and lines next to eyes that were constantly squinting because he was smiling or refusing to wear sunglasses, had you forgetting you were mad, or stressed or…maybe you were just tired?

He cocked his head, trying to catch the gaze you let fall to the floor quickly as the kids shrieked about him being home. Eddie didn’t even get his question of if you were okay out before arms were wrapped around his waist and legs, all vying for his attention. 

You had swiped at your nose to ward off the familiar sting, pulled down plates and started filling glasses of milk and juice, before shoving the casserole you’d had prepped into the freezer. 

Then he snapped his fingers, smoothing a hand over Caroline’s hair and said, “Oh, hold on. I think you’re gonna like what else I brought home a lot more than the pizza.”

He left for the hallway, returning quickly, holding something behind his back that she tried to peek at and he tsked, singing, “Uh-uh-uh. Hold on. Your mom told me you were upset about your ballet slippers…”

Your shoulders rose, the pour of apple juice freezing over the glass. 

He didn’t. 

He smiled at you, oblivious, then at Caroline’s squeal of excitement and he kept going, “These aren’t new, but my co-worker’s daughter barely used them and…Ta-da!”

Eddie held out a shoebox with essentially brand new shoes and your body felt numb as you listened to her scream how much she loved them and him, squeezing him in a fierce hug as he kissed her temple. 

Caroline held them up to you, proudly, and you smiled, nodding, saying something, you don’t even remember what. You ushered everyone to the table. 

Lacey stood next to her chair, eyes darting over the hand-held game clutched in her fingers. 

“Lacey, put it away, time for dinner.” 

Ding! Bloop, bloop, bloop blah-bloop-de-bloop. 

Eddie slapped pizza onto plates, licking stray sauce from his thumb, “How was everyone’s day? What’d you do?”

“Lacey, I’m not telling you again. Put the game away.”

Her eyes flew up to yours, something fiery and far to recognizable behind them that made you blink as she just said, “No.”

“Oh!” Eddie passed you pizza, oblivious, “How was lunch? Did dad do as good as mom?” He ruffled Michael’s hair as your daughter and you glared at each other. 

Caroline nodded her head enthusiastically around a too big bite and Michael turned to you, pizza in his mouth on display as he talked, “It was so good. Can dad make our lunches every day? His was way better.”

You stood up from the table, without warning and without a word, walked to your bedroom, and slammed the door. 

Were you having an adult tantrum? Maybe. Were you proud of it? Absolutely not. But the rush of tears that fell down your cheeks and the sob that overtook you was the kind of angry crying you simply do in private and you had needed to get there quick. 

Footsteps jogged down the hallway behind you, the sound causing you to turn the lock on your bedroom door through blurry vision and gasps around your tears. As the knob tried to turn, you moved away with a hand over your mouth until the back of your knees hit the bed. 

“Babe, open the door.” Eddie’s voice was soft as the knob rattled again. 

“Liv, what the hell, open the door.” 

You choked on a sob, fingers still over your lips so you barely got out, “I’m fine, Eddie, just…have dinner without me. I’ll eat later.”

The handle spun back and forth again, the sound of his forehead hitting the wood and his pained tone slicing through you, “Olivia, please open the door.”

You curled yourself on top of the bed, watching the handle through blurry vision slowly stop moving. Closing your eyes as the tears fell swiftly, you prayed it was the kind of crying that would just knock you out and put you to sleep, because god, did you need to sleep. 

Only a few minutes later, maybe not even, the door swung open to reveal Eddie on his knees with a flashlight between his lips and a screwdriver in his hands and you, sobbing on the bed. 

He jumped up at the sight of you curling your arms around your waist harder, at the way you rolled away from him and pressed your wet cheek into the pillow. At the way your hoarse voice called out, “Please leave me alone Eddie.”

The door closed, the lock clicked, and there was a distinct sound of both items he held dropping to the carpet with thuds. The bed dipped and the heat of his body curled behind you, fingers gently brushed over the damp skin of your cheek and neck. 

Your body shook with more tears, eyes squeezing closed tighter when he pressed his nose to the back of your head while his arm wrapped around your waist, and he waited. 

The tears eventually slowed, your chest started to fall and rise more evenly, and the light filtering in through your curtains started to turn lavender, then blue. Eddie managed to remove your jeans without waking you, and he pulled the duvet up over your shoulder as he bit his lower lip raw. Your face still didn’t look relaxed, like it was crying and worrying even in your sleep. 

He left the room with with his fingers rubbing at the back of his neck, walking past the bathroom where water sloshed over the counter and soap slid down the-

Taking several steps backwards, his mouth opened, then closed at the sight in front of him, before he finally found his words and quietly asked, “Whatcha doing?”

His three children stood in a line in the mirror, looking at him in the reflection. Lacey held a stack of plates and silverware on the left, on her toes, pink socks (that were supposed to be white, but there must have been a laundry incident he was unaware of) fully submerged in bubbles, her little arms hoisting them to rest on the counter halfway. Caroline stood in front of the overflowing, sudsy sink, her hands invisible inside it, and Michael next to her with a rag and plate. 

“We’re washing the dishes,” Caroline shrugged, like it was obvious. 

He leaned against the doorframe, rubbing at his jaw as he hummed, “I…see that. Why are you doing that in here?”

The three kids blinked at him, and he tried not to smile, because you weren’t kidding that they eerily looked like him when they did that. They were all clearly confused, and then Michael said, “The kitchen sink is broken. It has been all week.”

Eddie closed his eyes, your cursing under your breath and beating up of the pipes when he got home making much more sense now. 

All week? Why hadn’t you told him? 

Shit, had you told him?

He cleared his throat and he tapped on the frame. “Right. Well, thank you for doing them. Try to stay quiet, mom’s sleeping.”

His body had barely turned out the door before Caroline called out, nervously, “Is she okay?”

Eddie wasn’t a fan of lying, even if it was to protect feelings. But the sight of his three kids with concern evident on each of their faces told him they’d know if he did anyways. Something told him they already knew she wasn’t and it was him who didn’t know the answer. 

He sighed, entered the room deeper and kissed the tops of each of their heads, before he threw some towels over the floor that had puddles of water accumulating.  

“I think she really needs to sleep, and I’ll talk to her later. But I think you guys doing the dishes really helps. Thank you.”

So while his kids did the dishes in the bathroom sink and you slept, the dog and…one…? goldfish kept him company in the kitchen where he inspected the sink. 

It was an easy fix, but he didn’t have the part, and his stomach tensed with guilt as he thought about how you probably, definitely, asked him to look at it or call someone right away and he forgot. A simple drive down the street to the hardware store tomorrow, he’d have it fixed in less than an hour. 

He put the tools away in the garage, above the label for them that you must have made and he went into the small office space in search of a post-it to put on the sink. The office was intended for you, but years and kids and projects went by and soon it became a dumping ground of all things house. 

When he reached the desk, he found what he was looking for. There were plenty of post-its, in a variety of colors, lined up in a neat row above a large, tightly and neatly filled calendar. 

Eddie swallowed as his fingers brushed over the names of his kids, him, the fucking dog and fish - all with their own color. The house, the bills, the errands…all of it had colors, schedules, a science, a system.

But the thing was, you weren’t a part of the system - you were the system.

There was nowhere, in that entire calendar, that had anything remotely relaxing for you on it. No dinner or wine night with any of the girls. No book club with Nancy anymore, maybe because they moved, but he had a feeling it still wouldn’t be there if they hadn’t. No dates with him. He couldn’t remember the last time he took you out, or hell, made you dinner - when was the last time he even cooked dinner for the whole family?

He swallowed as he read over the entire month, and the next and the next. Anything that would have been considered free time, or your time was full of laundry, grocery shopping, dusting the fucking baseboards, because apparently you do everything? 

And Eddie knew he had colosally, monumentally, brutally, fucked up. 

So when the kids were in bed, and the kitchen was clean, and the lunches for the next day were packed, and the laundry was folded and put away, Eddie crawled back into bed behind you. 

He didn’t think you were awake, carefully letting his arm curl around you and his lips brush your shoulder in a wordless goodnight, an apology, a promise to talk about it as soon as you woke up. But then your words floated out and hung in the dark room and a tear slipped down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie sniffled, trying to reign it in, he cleared his throat, but you were already rolling to face him and he had his palms pressed to his eyes as his words left him all scratchy and on the brink of a full blown sob. 

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare fucking say it again.”

Your fingers had curled around his wrists and tugged gently, until watery eyes were blinking at your own and you shrugged and whispered, “But I am.”

His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, noses squished together and gasps of air between parting mouths, fingers clutching at hips and necks as your legs tangled. 

When was the last time he fucking kissed you like he meant it? Like it wasn’t a quick goodbye, goodmorning, or a hey, doll, how was your day as he half listened? 

He shook his head, mouth catching yours in quick kisses between each softly spoken word, “No, I am.”

Your palms pressed to his cheek as your leg hitched over his thigh, breathless as he traveled over your jaw and down your neck for the first time in what felt like months. 

Maybe it had been. 

“Can you,” you tugged on short curls behind his ears as his tongue traced your collarbone which made you both groan, “Jus-just let me apologize?”

Eddie practically growled out the word no before his lips were back on yours. 

It was fast fingers pulling at clothing and sharp teeth nipping at lips and skin, no foreplay, ‘just fuck me’ quick, and quietly because of the kids, kind of sex, until it wasn’t. 

It only took him three thrusts to realize it wasn’t what he wanted. Quickly becoming memorizing touches that glided over skin and held with care, it was lips that whispered apologies and all the things he loved about you into yours, quiet and passionate pushing and pulling with each other, and hands gripping the others as you came together and said everything you couldn’t with intense eye contact, fingers deep in the curls at the back of his head as his name left your mouth only to be swallowed by his.  

His lips brushed down your shoulder and back up, over your collarbone and chest as your fingers scratched at his scalp gently. 

He hummed against your throat before whispering, “I think we should go to the cabin next week.”

“Eddie…” you started softly, already panicking about the missed events the kids would have to make up, the packing, the-

“Stop,” he kissed your jaw, then hovered over your face so his big, brown, sweet eyes could look down at you, “I can hear the stress coming out of you, and I just got it all out.”

You laughed quietly, fingers pressing to your eyes as you shook your head. Unconvinced, and if you were tired before, he’d just made you even more so.

Eddie kissed at your fingers, your nose, your cheek until he was nudging at the fingers again with his nose. 

“Baby, I promise, it’ll be a good vacation. I think we could all use it. And I swear, I’ll be the parent. You kick your heels up and get drunk on shitty wine with Katie, okay?”

And here you were, doing just that. 

The late/early morning arrival was not the shit show you were sure it was going to be. The kids listened immediately about being quiet entering the cabin at the late hour, especially after Eddie said if everyone woke up, the entire day on the lake would be ruined. 

You woke up, without an alarm, for the first time in…you didn’t know how long. Greeted in the kitchen by Steve’s wife, Katie, quietly squealing and grabbing you in a hug that seemed to melt the tension from your shoulders. Eddie handed you a steaming cup of a coffee accompanied with a kiss on your temple and a swat to Steve’s chest when he tried to do the same. 

The kids were already showered, dressed, fed - fruit and waffles and minimal syrup thankfully - and outside playing. You had your suspicions this was all largely due to Steve and his wife’s doing. If you dwelled on it too long, the comparison to how much better they were at the whole parenting thing than you could drive you insane, so you tried to ignore it. 

There was only one argument with Lacey about the Nintendo, and Eddie snatched it and pocketed it and simply shrugged at her scowl when he did and said, “Told ya, babe.” Michael complained about lunch, but only until Nora, Steve’s eldest and seventeen, said “Oh, I love chicken salad” with a wink in your direction. You’d never seen Michael eat so quickly before and he was a garbage disposal on a good day. 

And now, your heels were “up” leaning against the deck’s railing from your spot on the floor, a wine glass was in your hand. Katie was telling you all about Nora’s new boyfriend, Charlie, who Steve positively hated, as Eddie and him stood nearby, with beers and watching meat on the grill or whatever men do. 

“Charlie is the least of our worries though,” she waved her hand with an eye roll, sipping the pink wine with a grimace, “I mean, you know. They’re monsters. Why’d we have them again?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “If you think yours are monsters, mine might literally be the devil incarnate.”

She snorted into her glass and you laughed, swiping at your lips with a shrug, “Okay, too far. But god, they’re…I don’t know. But, seriously, you and Steve…”

Your voice fell as the boys yelled over the grill at two of the girls doing cartwheels dangerously close to the fire pit. 

“You guys, you really know what you’re doing. You’re a good team.” You smiled sadly, looking at the back of Eddie’s head and then at her. 

She was watching you closely, a tilt of her head like she was trying to figure you out, before she grabbed your hand and squeezed it and admitted, “I yelled at him about loading the dishwasher wrong last week. We didn’t talk for three days.” She frowned and shook her head and looked over at him and he flipped his spatula and winked at her and she smiled and turned back to you. “Things aren’t ever what they seem on the outside. We all have shit. It just matters if your shit is something you can trudge through together. If you can help clean it off each other.”

She frowned at the wine she started pouring. “I don’t think this wine is helping with my metaphors, but you get what I mean?”

You nodded, taking in Eddie’s profile as he talked with his hands and got louder as he told a story to Steve. 

“Yeah, yeah I do.” 

It was silent as you both stared at the guys, sipping your wine, until you whispered, “So he loaded it wrong, huh?”

“So wrong!” She exclaimed, grumbling, “Who puts plates all willy-nilly? They go in a straight, neat-”

“I said I was sorry!” Steve shouted from the grill, his hands on his hips as he glared at the two of you. 

Katie stuck her tongue out at him and he shook his head with narrowed eyes and she grinned, a quiet and not as silent as they thought conversation about her paying for that later. 

You looked away, smiling into your wine glass when you caught Eddie’s gaze. He looked a little shocked when you made eye-contact, his cheeks flushed pink and you cocked your head with bunched eyebrows at him. 

An unanswered silent question though, because the kids all shouted as a black SUV pulled up the long, gravel driveway. 

A tall, lanky body jumped out of the backseat of the car before it was even in park, a head full of bouncing red waves shooting across the grass towards the literal swarm of children screaming, “Aunt Robin!”

She was down, on the ground, in literal seconds, the children forming a nice heap on top of her that the four of you all yelled about getting off at the same time, sharing grins that only parents who grew up doing the same thing and feel wrong for telling them not to could. 

Your eldest, was bounding over to the car, along with Olivia, ready for the third to round out the little trio of three musketeers - Zoey Wheeler. 

As they hugged and squealed about being back together, you all started down the steps to greet the late arrivals. 

You couldn’t help but notice Caroline standing a touch away from Olivia as the two other girls gossiped about something from school. 

But then Nancy was enveloping her in a tight hug, “Hey kiddo, hear you’re gonna be in the windy city pretty soon.”

Too preoccupied with your own waving of arms to tell her to stop talking, you didn’t notice Eddie whip his head over at Steve, who blinked with his hands raised. 

Your head fell as Caroline turned to you with curious eyes and a quiet, “What?”

Eddie opened his mouth to explain, but you were already talking, him blinking behind you. 

“I…I haven’t even told your dad. It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday. You and me, driving to Chicago to go to this dance store that Zoey and Olivia go to. It’s not new stuff, but their dance troop shops there and it’s all really nice stuff and - oof!”

Caroline’s arms were squeezing you harder than they ever had, face pressed against you as her words got lost and muffled, but didn’t lose their meaning when she said, “Thank you so much mom.”

Your fingers ran over her hair, lips pressed to the top of her head as you enjoyed the hug for as long as she’d let you. “Of course, honey. Happy early Birthday.”

The girls quickly started discussing what they’d do on the trip, and Nancy winced out an apology you told her was unnecessary as you hugged, all while Eddie gulped down his beer and Steve narrowed his eyes at him which made Eddie wave him off, grabbing another beer out of the cooler. 

“I am in need of assistance,” Robin called weakly, from her spot on the ground, now abandoned by all the children who were quick to return to their activities. 

Nancy sighed and drawled dramatically, “Coming, dear.”

Robin groaned from the ground, but giggled. “Thank you, sugar-pie.”

“Robs, I’ll leave you down there…” she warned. 

“Fine,” Robin shrugged, blue eyes staring up at the matching sky, “Dingus will-”

He was already hoisting her up, and grabbing her in a big hug only the two of them could find comfortable from the amount of squeezing suffocation. 

Nancy looked at you and Katie and sighed. 

“Wine.”

You were both already handing your glasses over with smiles before she could finish the word. 

She was thoroughly tipsy by her third glass, and the stress you could sense when she arrived - maybe it was a thing all you mom’s could sense, or maybe it was because of being old friends - was melted from her face as she called out, loudly, excitedly, “Robin!”

“Yes, my love?” 

Robin’s legs swung as they dangled from her hoisted up spot on the railing by the men. A baseball hat turned backwards over waves tinted red and silver and a sly smirk resting on her lips as she looked at her wife with more love than should be possible in a human. 

Nancy’s cheeks flushed and you all snickered into your glasses, because you all knew what was coming next. 

“I, uh,” Nancy cleared her throat, as big, blue eyes tried to blink innocently, “I need to talk to you. Inside.”

Robin grinned and nodded, “Lead the way, Wheeler.”

Nancy frowned, but clumsily made her way inside with a giggle. 

With a hop down, a salute, and a quiet, “Duty calls, boys,” Robin followed, all of your “boos” and “ow-ow-ow’s” slammed on by the door. 

Katie pulled out a stack of cards, the boys finally came over and joined you, and your legs crossed over Eddie’s lap as you hid your deck from him with a terrible poker face. 

He soothed his thumb over your ankle bone, wet his bottom lip before he grinned at you. “Baby, remind me to never take you to Vegas.”

“You have taken me to Vegas.” You touched your cards to your nose, hiding your grin.

Eddie sucked his teeth as he nodded, “Right, right, how could I forget.”

“Seriously dude,” Steve moaned at his cards, frowning, “Vegas was a mistake.”

Katie smacked the back of his head and he flinched, but with a glint in his gaze at her, “What the hell was that for.”

“They got Lacey because of Vegas,” she scolded, “It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Believe me, I remember. I don’t remember much, but that I do. It’s sort of hard to forget the results of that trip. What with the children who came out of it. Lacey, Annie and-”

“Luke is stupid!”

Steve sighed at the now sherbert colored sky. He groaned, “I knew it was too good to last.”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped your legs from Eddie’s lap as Lacey stomped up the stairs, huffing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie sit up, but you were already grabbing at your daughter’s crossed arms and pulling her towards you. 

“Woah, super mean word, let’s think of a better one.”

“A buttface!” She frowned, but didn’t resist your embrace as she climbed onto your lap, a privilege that was fleeting. 

“Nope, try again.” You shook your head, letting your chin rest on the top of her head as a hand soothed up her spine, while hers gestured wildly in search of the right word. 

“He’s…he’s…impossible!”

You hummed, great word - especially for a seven year old. 

“Why is he impossible?” You asked quietly, Katie taking the hint and getting Steve and Eddie to go back to a semi-normal conversation and their cards. 

Lacey fiddled with your shirt collar, grumpy and big lips pouting just like her dad. “We were playing Dragons, and he said that I had to be the princess and stay in the tree house while he fought the dragon and saved me! I don’t want to just sit there!”

Steve smiled around the lip of his beer and Katie rolled her eyes, looking at you with a mouthed, “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Ah,” you adjusted in your seat, hugging her closer as her fingers roamed to the necklace around your throat. “I would be frustrated by that too. I like helping. I don’t want someone to come rescue me, either.”

You glanced up at Eddie who smiled softly at you, watching intently. 

“Right. So I’m not playing. I don’t like him anymore,” she huffed, breath warm on your already sweaty skin and fingers leaving something sticky and smelling like pine trees all over you. 

“You don’t, huh?” 

“Nope,” she popped the ‘P’, but her gaze wandered over to the yard where the boy in question fought his sisters with sticks. 

It took you a bit, and maybe you were just soaking up the smell of her strawberry shampoo, or the way she fit perfectly in your arms, but you finally asked softly, “Hey, you remember Dimitri and Anya?”

Lacey shifted with a dramatic sigh, but she nodded. 

“I’m pretty sure they didn’t like each other either. But, then Anya showed him she could do anything he learned to do, right? And he listened to her? She helped save him in the end, remember?”

“Spoilers!” Steve grimaced and Lacey giggled which he smiled and booped her nose at. 

“So,” you lifted your daughters chin, big eyes that reminded you of someone else peering at you unwaveringly as you continued, “You go tell that Harrington boy that Princesses can slay dragons too.”

“They can?” Lacey asked, unsure, unconfident, in a way that melted your heart, put it back together and melted it again. 

You nodded and cleared your throat, trying not to cry. “Absolutely.”

She started to climb off of you, but you tugged at her waist, brushing a curl behind her ear as you smiled, “And baby?”

“Yeah?”

You kissed her forehead and whispered, “It’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help, kay?”

She nodded, kissed your cheek, and hopped off, bounding down the stairs with a sing-song call to her tone, “Ohhhh, Luuukkkee!”

Lifting the cards from the table, you smiled at the sound of your daughter antagonizing a Harrington and before you could make a jab at Steve, fingers were under your chin, and Eddie was tilting your head, lips on yours and stealing all of the air from your lungs. 

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and his hand cradled your jaw as you opened for him without thought, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt until loud clearing of throats came from your right. 

You broke away with a gasp, but Eddie pulled you back in for one more press of his lips and a whispered, “Sorry,” as he sat back down looking not sorry at all. 

Steve tried to hide his grin as he threw a chip into the pile and Katie grinned at you as she quipped, “Wow, guys, you’re worse than the lovebirds inside.”

Eddie didn’t look up from his cards, but he raised his eyebrows. “I seem to recall an incident in my home on my kitchen counter on my daughter’s first birthday, Katherine.”

“Touche, Edward, touche,” she beamed as Steve choked on his beer. 

He quickly changed the subject, swiping beer from his lips as he looked at you. “You’re gonna have to show me how you did that.”

Your wine glass froze halfway to your mouth and he laughed, coughed, covered his mouth with his fist. “I meant the talk with Lace. Not the kissing. Now that you guys’ll be closer we can…”

Eddie hung his head as Steve trailed off and you quirked an eyebrow. “Closer?”

Katie took a large gulp of her wine and Steve gestured to the grill with a hook of his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna…”

“I’ll help!” Katie jumped up and followed. 

“Eddie, what’s going on?”

He sighed, set his cards down, scooted his chair closer to you before his hands grabbed yours.

“I got a promotion, sort of.”

“Wh-what? Eddie, that's great!” You squeezed his hands, your heart hammering in your chest because he wasn’t looking at you still. The knowledge that there wasn’t really room for a teacher to get promoted stirring in your brain. “Wait, how…”

He grimaced, thumbs swiping over your knuckles as he nodded. “Right, yeah. So, it’s not so much a promotion, as it is a completely different job, at a completely different school. Or um, University.”

“In…in Chicago?” You were starting to piece it all together.

“Mhm,” he hummed, biting at his bottom lip that you instinctively reached up and pulled away from his teeth gently. He finally looked up at you, worried, and apologetic, but hopeful. “It’s, it’s a really great job. Tons of benefits. At the university. Way more pay. Flexible hours. I’d-I’d be home so much more. And I know, I know that moving is insane. But I just…”

He rambled, and you got lost, because you were thinking about telling the kids, about uprooting your entire life, about never seeing the patch of wall that the kids heights were on again. Your routine, your system, your grocery store, all pulled out from under you. 

But then you then thought about how you’d only been on this vacation for a day and how much less stressed you were. How Steve and Katie and Robin and Nancy would be in the same city as you again. About how happy your kids were with all of them, how happy you were with them. The support you’d have. The promise of more time with Eddie. The adventure.

“Okay,” you said softly, interrupting whatever he was saying.

Eddie blinked at you, mouth parted in surprise. 

“Okay? Okay what?”

You shrugged. 

“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s move. Take the job.”

Eddie swallowed, he scooted closer and he cupped your jaw, thumbs grazing over your cheekbones as he murmured. “Okay, let’s do it, like you’re excited and want to, or okay let’s do it, like you don’t think you have a choice and you’re stressed and sad and I’m gonna have to unlock the door with the screwdriver again?”

“I mean,” you laughed, brushing over the worried lines of his forehead as you did, “Okay let’s do it. It’s gonna suck to move and tell the kids, but I think…”

They always tell you, you see stuff in slow motion in moments of panic, fear, but you never really believe it until it happens to you - seeing it all happen before it did. 

“Oh my god!” 

You were pushing back from Eddie, yelling your daughter’s name as she climbed up a tree, her foot about to step on a branch that looked dead and rotting even from this distance, and then she was falling. 

There was a boy shouting beneath her, and his older sister’s shouting at him, screams of mom and dad that all four of you raced towards. 

Everyone’s footsteps except Eddie’s slowed when you saw the eyelids fluttering over brown eyes pooling with big, crocodile tears and the leg already swelling with bright red trickling down from it. 

Katie was shouting about grabbing the girl’s from inside, about ambulances and driving. Steve was pulling at all the other kids, reassuring them it was fine, and Eddie was focused on Lacey and Luke. 

You don’t really remember what you did. You had arms around you and you spoke, but you don’t know what you said. Ushered into a car by big hands and a little one grasping yours tightly. 

In the end, all it was, was a deep gash in her leg, nothing broken. Luke a little worse for wear with a fractured wrist, but he beamed when Lacey signed her name on the cast and asked you how to spell Princess before it, then kissed his cheek and told him thank you for saving her. 

The rest of the week was the same as the first day after that, save for the two kids who huddled next to each other on the couch on the deck, their temples pressed together as they shouted at the screen of the Nintendo Eddie gave back almost immediately. Day three of watching his kid that close to a Harrington boy made him rethink the whole move and said it wasn’t happening anymore, which Steve promptly replied with, “Dude, they’re seven. Wait till she’s seventeen and dating a guy named Charlie.”

Nora’s head had perked up from coloring with the younger kids, an expression almost identical to her father’s as she scowled. “I thought you liked Charlie!”

“I do, I do sweetie.” Steve rubbed at his temple and gave Eddie and you a look that said he really did not like Charlie. 

Time moved too quickly, and the light-hearted moments turned to memories, and soon bags were packed by the front door, and everyone was restlessly sleeping, not ready to say goodbye just yet. 

Which is how you found yourself quietly making your way down the stairs to the kitchen, when you woke up to the empty bed and cold sheets. 

You found him in the living room, eyes glued to the hand held device, his thumbs jabbing at it while he frowned. 

“She wasn’t kidding,” he whispered, the girl in question tucked into his lap, her leg propped up on a pillow and drool spilling down his white shirt. 

His arms flexed with each press, tattoos that were rarely on display anymore dancing under each movement. Short curls that the flecks of gray in stood out in the moonlight. Lines of worry and laughter all over his face, brown eyes gifted to all of your children because of the same ones maintaining their gaze on the console. 

You slid onto the couch next to him, curling into his side with a yawn and a gentle rearrange of Lacey’s legs onto your lap. Fingers gesturing for him to give it to you. 

Eddie handed it over, his arm scooping Lacey closer to his chest while his other wrapped around your shoulders. 

You kept your eyes on the game as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The breath huffed out of his nose hit your jaw as he quietly laughed, “Babe, what?”

Mario leaped over blocks as you told him again, “I’m sorry. I froze, I don’t know what happened. Thank you for taking care of her, of all of them, I don’t-”

“We’re a team,” he kissed your cheek, his smile stayed pressed to your skin, “You know, a wise woman once said, ‘it’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help.’”. 

A hum from your lips that fought a smile as his fingers squeezed your shoulder. You couldn’t help but grin at the screen though, when you pressed A for the final time. 

“I think I know her. Same lady who said Princesses can slay dragons, too, right?”

The screen lit up with little fireballs, trills and chimes coming from the console signifying you beat Bowser - this time, all of which you quickly tried to cover up as Eddie shushed. 

“Mommy,” her sleepy voice muffled in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetie?” You whispered, console silenced. 

“Volume,” word almost lost to the yawn she gave before she was snuggling back into the crook of Eddie’s elbow and was out again. 

Eddie tried not to snort or let his laughter shake her as your mouth fell open in shock and he took the Nintendo back, moving on to the next level. 

You shook your head at your daughter, and glanced down at her wrapped and injured leg, at the peaceful features of her sleeping face. 

“Man, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” you sighed. 

It was silent for a while, and your eyelids started to flutter closed too, when Eddie spoke again. 

“I totally thought Bowser was a turtle.”

[befuddled-calico-whump]

✨Content Tagging Guide✨

disclaimer: this is not directed at anyone, nor was it sparked because I've seen anyone mistagging anything. I just like lists and I'm going to make it everyone's problem :)

So you wanna write a story with darker themes, but are mayhaps a little uncertain about all the different content warnings you've seen.

Not to worry! Hopefully this quick guide will clear things up. To illustrate each level, I'm going to use macaroni and cheese as the content example. Without further ado...

cw: macaroni and cheese

^^this warning is very general. It tells the reader the content will show up at some point within the text, but doesn't specify the detail, use, or extent.

cw: macaroni and cheese (mentioned)

They drove through town, past the busy main street, and the factory where the local brand of macaroni and cheese got its packaging.

This warning tells readers the content will be mentioned; maybe in dialogue, or in a description, but not explored in detail.

cw: macaroni and cheese (discussed)

"I'm lactose intolerant," he said. "So I can't---well, I shouldn't eat stuff like that."

"But you did anyway?" they pressed. "I'm sorry, just... How did it feel? After?"

"Awful. I really should've listened to my common sense and ordered something besides mac and cheese."

As you'd expect, this warning tells the reader that the content will be discussed, either in conversation, or through a character's thoughts. Discussions can involve the moral implications of the content, how the content fits within the world, philosophies relating to the content, and the emotional or lasting effects of the content on a character.

cw: macaroni and cheese (referenced)

He tapped her shoulder. "Hey, I didn't see you after work yesterday, you okay?"

"Fine now," she said, shrugging. "I just had a bad batch of mac and cheese for lunch."

Very similar to "mentioned", this warning often implies a non-explicit, non-graphic mention of the content.

cw: macaroni and cheese (implied)

He frowned down at the bowl, then averted his eyes, appetite lost by the gooey yellow mass inside, and the heavy, creamy smell wafting off it.

This warning tells readers that the content is not outright stated, but the character's reactions and actions imply what's going on. If you could remove the context from the scene/paragraph in question and make it look like something else is happening, you probably have implied content. Note that there is a difference between simply "implied", and "heavily implied".

cw: macaroni and cheese (fade to black)

She took her seat at the table, queasiness building in her stomach. Her least-favorite food was to be served, and while she knew it would be rude to decline it, she wasn't looking forward to lunch. As the dreaded bowl was placed before her, she picked up the fork, and plunged it in.

Similar to implied, but instead of carrying on through the scene the content takes place in, fade to black builds up to the moment, and stops, often transitioning to the next scene before the content is given any kind of detail.

cw: macaroni and cheese (non-explicit)

For lunch, he was served a bowl of mac and cheese, one of his least favorite meals. He choked it down anyway, and hoped he wouldn't get an upset stomach.

This tells the reader the content will be present in some form, but not described in detail. It may have some active bearing on the character or plot, but won't be particularly graphic. While the character may be emotionally affected after the fact, the content itself is glossed over.

cw: macaroni and cheese (explicit)

The bowl was placed in front of him, steam still rising from the substance inside. He knew what it was before he looked. Mac and cheese. And he'd have to devour the entire bowl of it. He lifted the first forkful, strands of yellow cheese trailing from squishy curved noodles, all the way back into the bowl, even as he raised it to his mouth. Damn, it was extra cheesy. He knew his lactose intolerance just wouldn't hold up.

This is often used as the heaviest warning, telling readers that the content and the characters' reactions to it will be described in detail.

Again, this was something I mostly just wrote for fun, and to dramatize mac and cheese but I do hope someone out there finds it helpful. Let me know if there's a type I missed! :)

[nerdallwritey]

Snippet Sunday

Thanks @khywren, @ladyduellist, and @busy-baker for the tags!

I didn't have anything to share for a hot minute but I've gotten into a FLOW these past few days. Part 5 of Beauty and the Bard is coming along SWIMMINGLY.

ADDITIONALLY, thank you all for helping me reach 200 followers! You guys are the absolute best and I'd smooch every single one of you (consensually!) if I could! 😍

I would have posted something sooner to celebrate but uh......I didn't have anything until now lol. Let me just say, I'm VERY excited about this one. So without further ado, here's a snippet from Part 5!!!

Why, of all people, did you have to fall in love with the emotionally stunted, incredibly dramatic, freak weirdo vampire? Wyll was perfectly nice! Shadowheart had a good head on her shoulders! And yet… Your eyes flicked over to his tent momentarily.  He wasn’t even trying. He was fully looking at his nails. He looked up briefly and met your eye. He smirked before moving his hand to wave at you delicately with his fingertips.  “Pack,” you called to him from across camp. “What?” He cupped a hand to his ear as if he couldn’t hear you from the relatively short distance away. “You’ll have to speak up, darling! Or, better yet-” He left his tent and made his way over to yours. “Oooh, no,” you scolded and pointed towards his tent. “Get back over there and pack, you jackass.” “Ouch, love,” Astarion squatted beside you. He looked around your tent at the trinkets you’d accumulated and picked one up, rotating it in his hands. A tiny statue of a mermaid, her face sculpted in midsong. “Heavy little bugger,” he said, testing its weight in his hands. “It’s made of iron, I think,” you said.  “And you’re going to make us lug it into the Underdark? Rather selfish of you, don’t you think?” You snatched the figure out of his hands. “Can I help you with something, Astarion?” He spread out his legs and leaned back against a chest you kept close-by. “Not particularly.” He rested his arms behind his head, very clearly trying to flex his arms to keep your attention on him. You laughed and pushed him, making him fall sideways. “Stop trying to distract me and go pack your own stuff up. I will not help you when you’re inevitably scrambling later.” “Yes, you will,” he said, using your shoulder to help himself stand up. He squeezed it once before heading back in the direction of his tent.  “No, I won’t!” you called after him, but he turned and cupped his hand to his ear again, pretending he couldn’t hear you. You groaned loudly and continued packing.  “Hate to say it, Soldier,” said Karlach, whose tent was set up between yours and Astarion’s, “but you probably will help him.” You sighed heavily. “I know.”

No pressure tagging: @maladaptive-menace (congrats on the new puppy! no rush!), and @astarioffsimpmain 🥰 I think most everybody else has already been tagged, but please participate if you want to!!

[mister13eyond]

its really a testament to the power of human coping mechanisms that whenever a particularly powerful, relentlessly grisly and emotionally heavy game with a real capability to evoke genuine fear/dread/horror comes out

the inevitable shitposts are Devastatingly fucking funny

[n6co]

— EVENTUALLY by Tame Impala.

"Eventually" is a breakup song told from the side of the person who wants out. "I find there's a lot of poetry, art and songs singing about the plight of someone with someone changing in front of them," explained Parker to The Guardian. "It excited me to tell the story from the other side. Trying to explain that it's not a bad thing, its just natural."

"Eventually" is a song about someone who knows they're about to damage someone," he continued. "They're not going to be the one experiencing the pain that's dealt. They're the one dealing it. Arguably, it's just as emotionally crippling knowing that you're gonna do that. It's just as heavy. It's just as torturous."

NR: It feels like I’ve been racing him forever and always he’s just managed to edge me out and get the title even when we were small in go-karts.

And he’s just an amazing driver and of course one of the best in history so it’s unbelievably special to beat him because the level is so high and that makes this even more... for sure, so much more satisfying for me because the benchmark is so... and I took the World Championship away from him which is a phenomenal feeling.

LH: We obviously had a very good relationship generally when we started out, when we were kids. Back then a race weekend was generally... for kids karting it's... you're out having fun. You go out and drive and you come in and you fool around, you give a bit of information to your mechanic and you go and play Playstation or you go unicycling. We had a lot in common.

We both love pizza, we loved eating boxes of Kellogg's Frosties and doing all the crazy things and we go out on big motorbike tours. We did all those things. I still do everyone of those but Nico has shifted in the sense that he's very very solely focused in terms of looking after himself.

But then we got to Formula 1 and this was something that we had spoken about as kids and yeah, we obviously had ups and downs but ultimately I think we've managed to - particularly in the last year and at the age we are - which is pretty old, considering when we first met,

I think we've been able to manage it pretty well and I'm really happy for him and his family and proud of stepping away from being our competitive selves, proud of him of how he's driven, particularly this year obviously and generally it's been a pleasure having him as a team-mate.

( 🔗 : song meaning, nico's part, lewis' part )

[uchihaharlot]

if you're taking requests, could i politely beg you for some Sasuke head *ahem* canons please 😫🥵😮‍💨 sfw or nsfw totally up to you... the way you write these Uchiha fellas is just damn perfect!! 🫶🏻 💐 💗

Nonny!!! You are officially my very first Sasuke-kun request!! I can't believe the day has finally arrived!!! Let's dissect this man to the fullest capacity, shall we?

Politely beg all you want, Sasuke couldn't care less. In fact, you'll get more out of him if you bitch a little. Not much, but enough (lol you clever slut, my gentle mind just got what you meant by 'Sasuke head *ahem* canons).

I also appreciate your praise!! I'm am merely just a vessel, spreading Lord Indra's will. Every single one of these fine ass men deserved better!!!

N/SFW; Sasuke-kun, please come back; bit of a weird AU here; just go with it

Sasuke, as we all know. Was the shadow throughout most of his childhood in the eyes of his father. His older brother took first place in many aspects of his traumatic life. I secretly feel like he wouldn't have liked being the favorite anyways.

He's so emotionally stunted, it's rather sad and embarrassing to him. Aside from the mostly 'brotherly' affection Itachi gave him and friendships of the few around him. Sasuke doesn't take kindly to your admission of want. Or belligerent desire as he calls it.

He doesn't really accept that he's taken an unavoidable liking to you either very well. Pity, really. Ask just about any Uchiha, catching feelings is like having the world's worst cold. So, Sasuke avoids you like the damn plague, but you're secretly on his mind. Which still pisses him off.

Gets so damn jealous if any other Uchiha talks to you. He knows how his family is. Especially his fucking cousin, Shisui. Despite his best efforts, Sasuke will never live this down. The moment you met, he knew you were his. Case in point. (Plus, Shisui only got your attention to prove a point to Sasuke, that his little cousin does want you.)

Dates, are not his style, but goes out of his comfort zone to hopefully garner your affections. The more he thinks of you, the harder it becomes to ignore these whims and feelings. That and your first 'date' wasn't entirely romantic or appropriate. Having his, 'emotional support fox' follow you from a distance was off putting. And creepy.

So here you are, Sasuke standing outside your door. Not capable of coping that his body is acting of its own volition. He's so on and off with his emotions. Can't decide if he is coming or going.

But in all honesty, he's very partial to coming in your mouth. Holy gods, yea. Doesn't even remember how it all led up to your gorgeous lips around the base of this cock as his hot seed slips down the back of your throat. Sasuke was so damn at war with himself that his body was on autopilot making all the decisions.

Could he really complain? Yea, probably. Though he doesn't, seeing you pop off his cock slow and cute as his cum drips a little down your bottom lip is more than enough to acquiesce his bitter mood. Cures it basically.

Makes it all the easier for him to just give in and push you flat onto the couch. A little more rough than intended, but you moan and writhe all the same. Even more so as the warmth of his mouth and tongue lavish you in a particularly primal way. Makes you question his virginal status, but not wanting to ruin the flow and your orgasm on his face. You leave it unsaid. The Uchiha are renowned geniuses, and the rinnegan really is the best at its craft. Ten times more powerful than the sharingan, its a no brainer that he holds all that raw power in the blink of an eye. Which was wielded to make you cum twice over again.

Heavy petting and lip service is what you get for the time being, I don't want top break your heart, but Sasuke is still heavily guarded...until the next time perhaps.

[perpetualproductions]

Never Be The Same- Chapter 8

Stay

- The weight of recent events weighs on everyone, as the couple tries to take a moment to themselves to escape it all... But nothing lasts forever.

(Title Song: Stay by Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko)

[a/n: A short one. But a doosey. Sorry it took so long. Enjoy.]

CW: Angst. Miscommunication. Overall high emotions.

2.1k words

<-Previous | Next->

The whole car ride home is spent in silence, the heaviness of the situation weighing down on them all. When they eventually pull up to the apartment building, Marie turns off the ignition and no one makes a move to leave yet. After a moment, Jordan starts to get out of the car, but Marie reaches over, placing a hand on their shoulder. Jordan halts their movement, looking back at Marie with a tired and questioning look. Marie looks back to Emma before addressing Jordan. “Hey Em, can I have a minute with Jordan please? We'll meet you inside,” she asks her friend softly, giving her a look that Emma notes, giving back an understanding nod.

“Take all the time you need.” Emma says, giving Marie a reassuring pat on her arm and getting out of the car, leaving the couple to themselves. 

Jordan keeps their eyes on Marie the whole time, waiting to see what she wants. As much as they loved her being back in town, they were admittedly drained (especially emotionally) from their interaction with Andre. Once Emma is inside the building Marie faces forward and starts the engine once again. This earns a confused look from Jordan. “What are you doing?” They ask.

She looks over at them for a second before pulling out and driving back onto the road. “We're going somewhere. Put on your seatbelt.” She adds, simply, not giving Jordan anything to go off in regards to her plans here.

They reluctantly put their seatbelt back on, sighing. “Can I at least know where you're taking me?” 

Marie glaces over, noticing their tense yet exhausted demeanor. “Relax Jordan, I'm not kidnapping you. It's just a short trip. Trust me.” 

Well they definitely trusted her, there was no question about that. And they would argue that this definitely is a kidnapping, but they really weren't feeling up to it, so they relented. “Fine. Whatever…” they sigh, facing forward to the city night streets, trying to see if they could guess where they were headed. 

They'd been driving for almost 20 minutes now, Jordan now giving up on trying to find out where Marie's taking them. The car eventually slowed to a stop, Marie killing the engine and taking a breath. Jordan looks out the window, surprised to find themselves at a park, obviously empty this late at night. “A park?” They ask, turning to look at Marie. 

“Yup.” She responds, taking the keys out the ignition and getting out of the car.

“Okay… why?” They yell after her, also getting out of the car to follow her. Marie doesn't answer them as she makes her way over to the playground, Jordan just behind her. She stops at the swing set, a soft smile finding its way onto her face as she goes to sit down on one of the swings. Jordan takes note of this, looking around, trying to pinpoint what was possibly special about this place. “Um, okay…” Jordan goes to sit down on the empty swing on Marie's left. “Why here?” They ask softly, sensing some emotional significance to this place. 

Marie sighs, before pointing out towards the street. “I used to live just down that road. Before… you know.” She finally looks over to Jordan, meeting their soft gaze. “My sister and I would always come here to hang out whenever we could. She loved these swings.” Marie looks down for a moment, getting a bit emotional reminiscing about her sister. She clears her throat, attempting to recompose herself. “Anyways, anytime I had a particularly rough day, I'd sneak out at night and come here. It's just so quiet and peaceful at night. No one is around to bother you this late.” She shrugs, “I don't know, I thought maybe I'd show it to you and maybe you could use it too-” Marie's ramble is cut short by Jordan, who's now standing in front of her. They move forward, wrapping her up in a big hug, Marie quickly reciprocating it.

Jordan squeezes her tight, burying their face into the crook of her neck, holding her as if they were afraid to let her go. “I missed you.” They mumble to her.

Marie nods, holding on to Jordan as much as she can. “I've missed you too.” she whispers back. Marie nestles into Jordan, feeling right at home in their arms, but a sniffle coming from them causes her to pull back a bit. She's met with a teary eyed Jordan. “Jordan, hey-”

Jordan immediately pulls back, clearing their throat as they wipe their eyes. “Sorry- Sorry, I just-” They switch into their male form, backing up and turning away from her as they try to recompose themselves. 

Marie sighs, shaking her head as she gets up from the swings, stepping closer to Jordan. “No, don't do that, not with me Jordan.” She reaches out to them, to turn them around, which they let her do. 

Jordan looks at her with a tired, tear stained look. They sniffle again, wiping more tears away. “Sorry, I know, I- I'm trying. I'm just…” they take a breath, looking up at the starry night sky for a moment, before looking back down at Marie. “There's just a lot, it's all just a lot. And you know how I get when there's a lot going on, I- I push it all down, I self-destruct or whatever, but-” they pause their rambling for a second as they step closer to Marie, placing her hands into theirs and gently holding them. They look into her eyes as they try to slow themselves down. “But right now… I'm not. Right now, I'm just standing in a park, with you, and- and nothing is moving but me and you. Just- just let me be here, in this moment, with you.” They bring her closer, running their hands up her arms to her elbows and touching their forehead to hers. They look deep into her eyes as their warm breath intermingles with hers in the cold air. “Just for tonight, let's just be here... Please.”

Marie just looks at them, a soft, understanding look on her face as she reaches up to hold Jordan's face in her hands, gently rubbing the tear stains off their cheeks with her thumbs. “Okay.” She whispers, giving a small nod.

Jordan sighs in relief, leaning into Marie's touch. “Thank you.” They whisper back, dropping their hands to her waist, just basking in her presence. 

They stay like that for a couple minutes, holding each other as they gently sway side to side. The warmth of their embrace keeps the cold night breeze at bay as Marie focuses on the sound of Jordan's heart, the steady beat bringing her a sense of comfort that she hasn't felt in a while. She instinctively pulls them closer, wrapping her arms around them, heads resting against each other. She can feel their breath on her face as she leans up, Jordan meeting her halfway till their noses touch. They stay there, lips hovering less than an inch apart from each other. They're hesitating. A few months ago they would have never hesitated to kiss one another, but at this moment, the last time they kissed was weeks ago. They've just been apart for too long. So what were they waiting for? Jordan thought before closing the distance between them, not wasting another second. Lips crash together as they melt into each other, the kiss immediately deepening as they grip the other as if it were the last time they ever would. One of Jordan's hands gently holds Marie's jaw, the other gripping her hip as Marie's hands tangle into Jordan's hair, keeping them close. And it's as if everything is right again. Any and all problems and troubles going on in their lives fade away. There's no work or college or Vought, and they aren't miles away from each other. It's perfect, they're perfect, this moment is perfect. But then, a small nagging thought reminds Marie… perfect doesn't last. 

The thought worms its way into Marie's head, ripping the curtains down and blinding her with reality, her responsibilities. As perfect as this moment is, as much as she loves Jordan, she knows this can't last forever. She's been wrestling with these thoughts for a while now. She wants it to last, she wishes she could stay here in their arms forever, but she has to go back to Maryland, back to school and work and… Annabeth. 

In between all the chaos of balancing school and work, she resumed her search for her sister. She has found something, a clue. She saw a photo from a Facebook account, she recognized a face that could belong to a slightly older version of her little sister. She wasn't tagged, but she tried her best to follow the rabbit hole, figuring out the others in the picture, who took the picture, where it was taken. It could be leading to nothing, another dead end, but Marie feels it, in her gut, that she's close to something. She can't give up on that. 

Jordan feels Marie tense up in their arms, causing them to pause, pulling back to make sure she's alright. Their eyes meet for a second before Marie quickly shifts her gaze away from them. She takes a step back, putting some distance between her and Jordan, but they follow her step, reaching out to hold her arms. Jordan desperately tries to get Marie to look at them, gently squeezing her arms to get her attention. Marie closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She reminds herself that she can't get pulled back into the moment, or she might never be able to leave. They've had their moment, and they'll have another one the next time she can visit. They're busy people, they both have responsibilities that they can't ignore. They can't stay.

Jordan doesn't even bother speaking. They've had their fair share of arguments today. They knew she was gonna pull away again, like she always does. They know she has to drive back to Maryland in the morning, but they thought they had more time, that maybe they'd be able to convince her to stay just a little longer till she actually had to go back. They know her schedule, basically memorized it, and she doesn't have any classes tomorrow, and she can afford to miss one shift to spend time with them, cause she hardly ever does anymore. Of course Jordan is thinking the worst, that she's leaving them, finally fed up with them, moving on with her life. But no, that's not Marie. She wouldn't do that, would she?

Regardless, they've been here before. They know why she isn't looking at them, but still they stare at her, begging her to look back, just this once, and just stay with them. They take a breath, stepping closer and holding her jaw in their hand, trying to get her to look up at them. She lets Jordan lift her head up, as she steadies her breathing, preparing herself to look them in the eye. She opens her eyes, looking right at them. As much as it hurts her to look into their deep, pleading eyes, she knows they'll understand. If anyone understands prioritizing academics and future career, it's Jordan. It was one of the many things she admired about them. And Jordan would understand Marie focusing on finding Annabeth, (Though, she hasn't told them yet. She was trying her best to not get her hopes up. If this path actually leads somewhere, then she'll tell them). Besides, this will only hurt for a moment, but they will be back together again. They always come back together. That's what she holds on to as she steps back, gently pulling herself out of their hold. “I have to drive back to Maryland tomorrow. We should get going.” She speaks in a flat tone as walks past Jordan and back towards the car. 

All Jordan can do is watch as she walks away from them. They hate seeing her walk away. They used to not mind because they knew she'd always come back, but this time… they weren't so sure. 

— 

The ride home is spent in complete silence, neither of them wishing to acknowledge the multitude of unsaid words they really should be communicating with each other. Once they get back to the apartment, Marie b-lines to Emma's room, closing the door behind her before Jordan could do anything. They sigh, switching to their fem form as they shove their jacket off and throw it on the couch. They walk over, pausing for a moment as they contemplate walking into Emma's room, but they give up, walking into their own room and slamming the door shut behind them. 

…She was gone by morning.

--

[Finally did the thing! So sorry it took me so long to upload this. Things just kept getting in the way. But here it is! It's a pretty short one, but it's also filled with angst. Thank you so much for reading my stuff, I'm glad people are enjoying it. And a huge thanks, once again, to Venus @minthandsoap 💜 for helping me out big time with this fic. I'm considering this the end of this act of sorts. Kinda. Really just me saying the next update won't be for a while. Kinda waiting till life calms down a bit, so maybe around august. Until then, thanks for reading.]

Much love, 😎👍❤️

-PB

[absolutebl]

Hey Abl, trust you are well. So I took a month off bl to deal with life stuff and upon my return there's a lot of new shows and I'm feeling overwhelmed and need to prioritize. What should I start with that started airing in late October/November? Spanx!

BL Quick Picks - End of 2023 Releases

That finished its run? Sorry I don't keep that close track of things ending but stuff I loved that ended relatively recently as follows. (I'm giving you a range of styles to suit your mood.)

Felling light and fluffy?

Jun & Jun

(Korea Viki)

A delightful office romance about an ex-idol who joins cubical life only to find his new boss is his first love. Others boys are sniffing around too. Operative word being "sniffing" as much of this romance involves smell. With a snappy (sometimes even raunchy) script, enjoyable sides, a pretty as peaches cast, and descent chemistry this show made up for in style what it lacked in substance. I like fluff. I loved this. I smiled every moment I was watching. With tons of rewatch potential (especially the last few eps), my only caution is this is for fans of the BL genre only, I don’t think it’ll work for anyone else. 9/10

Feeling complex and drama llama?

I Feel You Linger in the Air

(Thailand grey, YT for some)

I truly loved this time travel romance. IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework (much like Until We Meet Again). Steeped in history and family drama it edges into lakorn (but no as much as To Sir With Love and with way less scenery chewing). This is an elegant and classy BL… from Thailand which normally doesn't even try for classy. The main couple (both as a pair and individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. Pity about the ending. Oh it wasn’t that sad but it wasn’t good either. This show should easily have earned a 10 from me except that it fumbled the… erm… balls. Argh. Whatever. 9/10

Feeling odd and chaotic?

Why R U?

(Korea iQIYI)

Korea decided to remake, of all possible Thai BLs, Why RU? And that is exactly what we got: a short form, clean & pretty, slightly confusing, uneven chemistry, all the same tropes KBL that kind of cliff-noted the original but with none of the heat or complex relationship dynamics. I just … what world is this? Because it is BOTH bizarro land, and EXACTLY what I expected. How do I rate it? In the end I have to go back to simple questions: did I like it, would I rewatch it, and would I recommend it? Yes. Probably. And probably not. What the actual hell? 8/10

Feeling dark and complex?

Tokyo in April is AKA Shigatsu no Tokyo wa

(Japan Viki)

Two young men with a shared tragic past reunite and fall in love all over again, but the past will not stop hunting them. Based on a manga, this office set reunion romance is GREAT… damn it. It’s Japan in full on soft focus which means it gets emo, abusive, and chewy. These two characters are giving parts of their souls away in a desperate attempt to shape themselves to the expectations they have of each other. Japan gave us the Bed Friends that Thailand could never even imagine. But here’s the thing: I don’t enjoy my BL this heavy and cutting. I know that for The 8th Sense crowd this is peak BL and I can’t argue with the fact that the romantic devotion, domesticity, script, and acting IS all on point. It’s just not my personal preference for that point to be so damn sharp. I appreciate that this being 2023 I have the luxury of consistent quality (especially from Japan) and thus the ability to say… I acknowledge that this SHOULD get a 9/10 but I can’t emotionally go higher than 8/10

Feeling sappy and in need of comfort?

Stay By My Side

(Taiwan Viki)

This show was an interesting take on the "ghost boyfriend" trope. About a boy who is tormented by hearing the dead, except when he is around one other boy - desperation+proximity = love. Unfortunately, the story was erratic and waffled about. While the leads turned in solid performances and the sappy domesticity was off the charts, it never really had the strength of the narrative convictions such a strong concept should have supplied. Highly rewatchable and enjoyable for that sappy domesticity but not a whole lot more. Still I always give extra credit for the diabetes-inducing sugar content and rewatch capacity. 8/10 

Feeling sexy?

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho

(Japan Gaga)

I liked it a lot and it's classic yaoi of the kind that really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but both are so repressed they actually don't realize they're in love. It's higher heat from Japan and well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" trope which is only exacerbated into undiluted frustration by the fact that they're already fucking. It's good, but watching requires more patience than usual, even from Japan. 8/10

Feeling sweet and earnest?

Sing My Crush

(Korea iQIYI)

This a cute coming of age drama around music and 2 kinds of self acceptance and actualization journeys. This was basically Korea’s version of About Youth, and was perhaps a bit too soft and ungrounded by comparison, like a marshmallow sculpture. Sweet but somewhat lacking in discernible flavor. 8/10

If you want to know what I'm enjoying that's airing right now, I'm mot yet caught up this week but I have time today so the weekly ranking will drop in a few hours. But I can tell you with confidence that very little is likely to unseat...

My Dear Gangster Oppa (Thailand iQiyi)

from my affections right now. I love it unconditionally and it's airing on iQIYI.

[pessimisticshapewithablog]

Lamb OC: 'Woolhelmina' masterpost

Wilhelmina (english Guillaumine (lol))

"will helmet" or "willing to protect"

Woolhelmina's cult is one of safety and protection, the protection that her people never received.

Current design, it's changed a lot but I've slowed down iterating it. Her character is pretty cemented at this point.

Learn more about her below!

Backstory

 Woollamina is the twin sister of the canon lamb, Lambert. She was taken as a baby and raised Ratau on TOWWs command. Because she was a twin, is wasn't certain which of them was the prophesied Lamb, so TOWW ordered her to be taken and kept hidden. 'If she was not then at least she would be able to bear more lambs' was his reasoning. 

Lambert was left to their fate as decoy for the bishops to believe they'd killed the last lamb and prevented the prophecy from happening. Thus giving Woollamine time to grow and develop as TOWW's chosen vessel.

Mina's story revolves around her keeping her status as the God of Death hidden. She spent entire life serving TOWW but she never got to be a regular person. When he's "gone" she can actually start living her life. But then another thing stopped her. She's a god now, with new responsibilities and obligations.

Some magic stave designs

Vessel of Red Crown

 Mina saw TOWW as a secondary father figure rather than a god and sought his approval constantly. The reason she wears her wool in ringlets is because it's what she thought he would like. Having that much wool is actually dangerous for irl sheep and is a fire and drowning hazard. She's risking her safety and wellbeing for a crumb of his approval.

TOWW and the dynamic with his followers is one big unhealthy family lol. Ratau is the useful disappointment

Aym and Baal are the golden children who are sorta useless but TOWW favors them because they look the most like him.

Mina is the scapegoat only daughter who bears the brunt of the responsibility for freeing TOWW but gets none of the accolades. 

TOWW is the overbearing patriarch that everyone tries to please but he's too far up his own ass to see that they actually do care about him. He has a new 'family' of sorts that actually loves him to some degree but is too emotionally unavailable to acknowledge that. His failed sibling relationship caused him to keep his new 'found family' at an emotional distance.

Woolhelmina's Wool

The reason Woollamina grows her 'hair' and 'skirt' long is because she believed TOWW liked the way it looked on her. Specifically because he commented on it once when visiting him. It was during a particularly bad winter and Mina decided it was best to keep her wool long for extra insulation. Mina is a wensleydale sheep so her wool grew long already but she never kept it because wool is hot and heavy. TOWW rarely if ever made comments about anything not related to his goals of attaining freedom so his little remark meant alot to Mina.

 The thing is, having such long wool all the time is very dangerous for a sheep because it makes it hard for them to cool down and is a drowning hazard. Even though she can swim, her wool will weigh her down. I like to think of this as a reflection of her devotion to TOWW.

Wool Care

Because Woollamina's is a longwool breed, her wool requires special care to maintain its crimp and luster. She can't use soaps or shampoo on her wool as they would strip her skin and wool of its natural lanolin. She does use it sparingly to maintain proper hygiene, though.

Because of the extensive care that goes into her long, white wool and hairstyle, Mina is *very* hesitant to get dirty. Bathing excessively runs the risk of ruining her wool and drying completely, with all her wool takes days with magical assistance.

It's cold and damp, she has to dry it asap or risk fungas and unwanted plant growth. ( Seeds will readily sprouts on sufficiently moist wool, whether it's attached to a sheep or not lol.)

Most of, if not all, of Mina's clothes and bedsheets are made with silk to protect her wool from friction damage. (I'm thinking about adding silk bloomers to her wardrobe and fit. They are awesome for chub rub lol)

[sammygender]

saw your post about fic rec lists. do you have any spn fic recs? 5 spn fics to read before you die? or sam-centric fics, especially set in the first 5 seasons/pre-canon? (that last is just me telling on my own preferences, lol)

literally 95% of the supernatural fic i read is pre-canon and almost all of it is, if not sam-centric, then sam-heavy. so. not all of the fics r necessarily 100% my interpretation, especially in regards to john takes, but theyre all really excellent

The Very First Stone by road_rhythm. LOVE this one so much. read if you want excellent characterisation of all 3 winchesters, gorgeous writing and a genuinely gripping narrative. set one summer when sam and dean are teenagers, feels the most like an actual novel of any of the fics on this list. also really like the john in this

Run Aground by themegalosaurus. devastatingly good casefic set just before sam leaves for stanford

Ways We Stay Alive by yet_intrepid. read if you dont mind a particularly awful john - this ones emotionally tough, heed tags. training exercise fic!

Emergency On Planet Earth by EudociaCovert. SO obsessed with this concept and little kid sammy. tldr sam is worried john's a serial killer

is it cheating if i rec my own fics? whatever, i will anyway - my fic series is all precanon and often sam-centric, the most sam-centric ones are probably waiting for the day they escape, a perfect body, a perfect soul, and my personal favourite something soon, where sam keeps having dreams about patricide.

im also really fond of

8 early drafts of Sam Winchester's college application essay and the one he sent to Stanford (the sweet little blonde jam) . oneshot, is what it says on the tin. love their relationship in this

Wound and Unwound by fascra - love this fic soo much. if you want to get into the mind of fucked up teenage sam, this is for you. careful on the tws on this one it delves into eating disorders very heavily

No Child Left Behind by Zeke21 - more dean-centric but has really excellent sam too, beautifully written and feels very real and grounded, heed tags though.

Terrible Liars by panfriedeggs. stanford era jess pov, dean comes to stay.

Nickel and Dime by Linden - outsider pov, CPS gets called on the winchesters. love this one. tagged sam/dean but its just gen

The Prettiest Princess - set after its a very spn christmas (the precanon part). both very cute and very upsetting, perfect recipe for precanon

MRSA . Dean's cut gets badly infected.

and, cheating, because this is an AU and therefore not technically pre-canon, but i loooove it: the body and the boneyard by hellsreluctantheir

may add more if i think of them later.. i read a lot of fic. feel free to send asks for anything more specific!!!