#butches really do make the world go round

[profoundbondfanfic]

Do you have any fics that a very gender? Very confronts toxic masculinity in a moving way? Bonus points for 🏳️‍⚧️

I have to say it was a bit of a challenge to decode this ask so we've decided to do something general and hopefully some of these are what you were asking for. Here are some recs with fics that feature trans!characters in a meaningful way or focus on gender roles.

Fem in a Black Leather Jacket by bleuzombie [Mature, 5k words] #trans!dean

Dean has done the work to be comfortable with who himself but some reassurance from his boyfriend Castiel goes a long way as they head to a concert. Dean never dreamed he would be so lucky to find someone who could love him for all of him, panties and all.

love in the time of quarantine by sharkfish [Explicit, 6k words] #trans!castiel

Dean says, “We should have sex.” Cas chokes and looks up at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.” “We should have sex,” Dean repeats, carefully enunciating each word. Cas keeps staring at him blankly. “It’s fun and you’re hot. Perfect quarantivity.”

Made Manifest by schmerzerling [Mature, 6k words] #trans!dean

Wherein Castiel defied God for Dean before Dean even knew his name.

Mira Mira by vipjuly [Teen, 22k words] #gender fluidity

Castiel is forced to retire from being the world's most prolific and successful hired gun. He gets dropped off at Winchester B&B with a vague notion to 'find himself', but he's having a hard time understanding first of all: what that means, and secondly: how to even do that. The proprietor of Winchester B&B, Dean, a retired ex Fed, seems to have some ideas of his own.

Novaks, Rebooted by violue [Explicit, 57k words] #trans!claire

A single father, his trans daughter, a whole new life in The Golden State.

Sometimes You Have to Lose to Win by zeppazariel [Explicit, 55k words] #trans!dean

The thing is, Dean is okay with being bisexual. He’s come to terms with it, ya know? He’s got eyes, and he can see that men are hot sometimes; whatever, not a big deal. He’s perfectly fine with it. In theory. Not so much in practice. Dudes are a no-no, outside of looking. He’s not budging on this one, so it’s with confidence that he announces, “There ain’t a guy in the world who’s going to change my mind, Sam.” “You’re tempting the universe to make fun of you again,” Sam sing-songs. “The universe doesn’t have shit to do with this,” Dean argues. Sam hums. “Whatever you say, man.” But, as it turns out, the universe has a lot to do with this, and it never really misses a chance to mock him, drag him down, kick him while he’s curled into a fetal position, then take him out back and shoot him while laughing cruelly at his misery. Meeting Cas is precisely what that feels like.

BONUS: a/b/o fics that focus on gender roles

Aromatic Adjectives Need Not Apply by JessJesstheBest [Teen, 4k words]

Castiel was an Alpha, despite what everyone always guessed upon meeting him. He was tall, and he had the stern and imposing profile, but, to most people, those Alpha traits were where it ended. He had a lithe, runner’s frame, with trim waist and thick thighs. “Child-bearing hips” he’d been told. Though, obviously, no children would be born of him. This scuffling man, though. He was... round. Potentially child-bearing. And Castiel was sure his true mate wasn’t either of the other two men. Or Castiel is an Alpha that doesn't believe in true mates but sniffs one out anyway.

Butch by tiamatv [Explicit, 54k words]

When the flower shop owner sweeps his fingers through his hair, he nearly knocks the flowers tucked behind his left ear off; he spends a fussy moment readjusting them with both hands. “I don’t need to be rescued. Especially not by a stranger.” Sheesh. Touchy. But since Dean would have flashed fangs if anyone had thought he couldn’t take care of his own damned self, he can’t be throwing any stones. He shrugs—big and exaggerated, both hands up. "Not sayin’ you did. Look, not your fault that God put alpha brains at the base of their dicks." The lowered blue eyes snap back to his. Flower Boy inhales with his lips parted, all pretense at not sniffing Dean out gone, and his eyes go wider. Dean might not dress or act or look like any kind of sweet little omega, but he knows just what he smells like: really fucking inviting.

Oddly Shaped Empty by jemariel [Explicit, 65k words]

Dean grew up thinking -- knowing -- he'd be an alpha. Until he failed to present. As a beta, he has no mating cycle, no noticeable pheromones, none of the physical markers that are so important in a world of alphas and omegas. He's out of place. How is he supposed to navigate his relationships and find love when he doesn't fit into the neatly-defined boxes he's used to? By the time he meets his new roommate, Castiel, he's more or less given up on finding a mate. He wears his secondary gender like a chip on his shoulder. But you never know what the future holds, who will come into your life, and how they might change it forever..... Queer themes, finding identity, reconciling the past, and a whole lot of smut.

[rphelperblog]

City of Ashes Book Quote Rp Meme

Book two of the Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare- feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes

“I don't want to be a man I want to be an angst-ridden teenager who can't confront his own inner demons and takes it out verbally on other people instead."

“There's no need to clarify my finger snap. The implication was clear in the snap itself.” 

“With him, you don't really get to choose your insulting nickname.” 

"So you're just that friendly with everybody, is that it?” 

“I was alive when the Dead Sea was just a lake that was feeling a little poorly.” 

“As long as there was coffee in the world, how bad could things be?”

"I'm pure at heart. It repels the dirt.”

"Mostly extinct is NOT EXTINCT ENOUGH."

"Does he normally just lie on the floor like that without moving?” 

"You want to kiss me, don’t you?” 

"Never believe the bad guy is dead until you see a body," 

“I've heard the word 'fear'. I simply choose to believe it doesn't apply to me.” 

“Sometimes you don't have to search out danger, sometimes danger finds you” 

"There are no straight men in the trenches."

“If I made a joke about just dropping by, would you write me off as cliché?” 

“What I actually want to call you is a hell of a lot more unprintable than your name” 

"If they need a human sacrifice, you can always offer me. I'm not sure the rest of you qualify anyway.” 

“When you love someone, you don't have a choice. Love takes your choices away.”

“Some guys look at you like they only want sex. He looks at you like you've had sex - it was great and now you're just friends. Drives girls crazy. Know what I mean?" 

“I don't do what I'm told, but I might do what you want if you ask me nicely.” 

"I prefer to think that I'm a liar in a way that's uniquely my own.” 

Usually I'm remarkably good-natured. Try me on any day that doesn't end in y.” 

“I never date anyone my cat doesn’t like,”

“I love round tables. They suit me so much better than a square."

"I'm going to get you a dictionary for Christmas this year."

“Pain is only what you allow it to be” 

“No, I'm just a very naughty boy. I do all sorts of bad things. I kick kittens. I make rude gestures at nuns.” 

“You might want to lie down, I find that it helps when the crushing sense of horrible realization sets in.” 

“You live in my head all the time." 

“If you really love something, you never try to keep it the way it is forever. You have to let it be free to change.” 

“I thought I'd lie on the floor and writhe in pain for a while, it relaxes me."

"It does? Oh - you're being sarcastic. That's a good sign probably.” 

He prefers his monsters really, really extinct.' Will that make you happy?”

"I know. Everytime you almost die, I almost die myself.”  

"Oh I know his secret.He's terrified I'll tell everyone that he's always wanted to be a ballerina.” 

“Lawful good to lawful evil!"

“They confused beauty with innocence and harmlessness.” 

“You disappear so completely into your head sometimes, I wish I could follow you.” 

"I didn't betray you, idiot."

“Growing up happens when you start having things you look back on and wish you could change”

“Everything changes in my life, and the world stays the same.” 

“Everyone has choices to make; no one has the right to take those choices away from us. Not even out of love..” 

"You do seem obsessed with my look...Could it be that you're attracted to me?"

“He had become a monster. You just couldn't see it...because it wore the face of a friend.” 

"It's awfully butch for a bookseller.” 

“Hate is nothing when weighed against survival. “

“Suddenly you‘re interested in solving my problems?”

“Other crack teams get bat boomerangs and wall-climbing powers; we get Aquatruck.” 

“The nod means 'I am a badass, and I recognise that you too, are a badass.” 

“Then again, it was him. He'd pick a fight with a Mack truck if the urge took him.” 

"Honestly, if you don't start utilizing a bit of your natural feminine superiority, I just don't know what I'll do with you.” 

"You think I haven't seen the way you two look at each other? The way he says your name? You may not think I can feel, but that doesn't mean I can't see feelings in others.” 

“Nothing less than 7 inches.” 

“Fate is never fair. You are caught in a current much stronger than you are; struggle against it and you'll drown not just yourself but those who try to save you. Swim with it. and you'll survive” 

“Desire is not always lessened by disgust. Nor can it be bestowed, like a favor, to those most deserving of it. And as my words bind my magic, so you can know the truth. If she doesn’t desire his kiss, she won’t be free.”

"I make dollar bills magically appear in their cash register."

"Because I foresee many romantic picnics in our future. You, drinking a virgin pina colada. Me, drinking the blood of a virgin.” 

“I can't believe he didn't have the dignity and presence of mind just to get drunk and pass out in some gutter, I must say, I'm disappointed in the little fellow.” 

“Sure. And Madonna wants me as a backup dancer on her next world tour.” 

“If you're texting him to say 'I think u r kewl' I'm going to kill you” 

"You are mortal; you age; you die, if that is not hell, pray tell me, what is?” 

“I was even a little glad that if it wasn’t going to be me she wanted, it was going to be someone who really deserved her.” 

"It could be worse, men my age have been known to purchase expensive sports cars and sleep with supermodels.” 

"Like everyone else here. Except you, and the asshole. And the asshole's sister.” 

“I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am” 

"You mean father. I despise this modern habit of calling one's parents by their names."

'Its not often you get to see someone drool, especially with such total abandon. Mouth wide open and everything.” 

“Come to think of it, he‘ll probably make you pay the shipping charges yourself.” 

“The next thing I knew I was listening to five people shouting. What was that all about, anyway?” 

“It looks to me like you‘re using a wall to prop you up. that’s not my definition of ‘standing.’”

“Leaning comes right before standing.” 

“To draw something is to try to capture it FOREVER, if you really love something, you never try to keep it the way it is forever. You have to let it be free to change” 

"It's always nice when someone volunteers to be the first up against the wall.” 

"I take it I'm just supposed to wait out here until vines start growing on me?"

“I hate that stuff. It tastes like feet.”

“How do you know what feet taste like?”

"Oh, you know. The usual. A lifetime's supply of Knicks tickets.

“But if you can't tell the truth to the people you care about the most, eventually you stop being able to tell the truth to yourself.” 

'Finishing my shower. And if you‘ve made me run through all the hot water, I‘ll be very annoyed.” 

“I do not understand how you humans can walk in shoes that are that tall.”

[lesbocs]

ROUND 1 POLL 9

MARIYAM BASKERVILLE (she/they) (@upvote)

"hiii!!! this is a character from a horror rpg maker game series that perhaps one day i will make.

mary is a poor pathetic meow meow final girl who has doomed the narrative itself. she has the ability to see anomalies (ghosts, demons, spirits, etc-- basically anything supernatural) but nobody believes her. she's a student at an all girl's catholic school in rural ohio in a vaguely post-apocalyptic timeline who is relentlessly bullied by her peers for being weird and neurodivergent and she has a sucky home life so all around she's having a terrible time. she's kind of eccentric and super into the occult, which in the good catholic town of woolwick is not accepted at all. her only ally is her older brother, callum, who she is very dependent upon but he apparently runs away from home shortly after a fight between the two of them. (it's a misunderstanding, he has his own demon stuff going on) and she's left in her senior year of high school feeling like shit.

so yeah life hates her and she hates life back. but !!! her solution to her very vitriolic misanthropy and unhappy circumstances is to open a portal to hell and allow her fucked up town to be consumed by it. on devil's night (the night before halloween, where kids play pranks and throw toilet paper at houses and etc) she sets her plan into motion and manages to find her way into getting roped up in the hijinks of a group of misfits (all students her age at the catholic girls school and all wlw and most of them are pretty nice actually) and horror game shit ensues with her getting involved in too because she's just a strange beast motivated by years and years of resentment and didn't really plan shit out… but she survives in the true end yay ^__^ sort of. schrodinger's cat girl.

she plays a vaguely overarching antagonistic role in the series over all but her intentions slowly become more benign as the story progresses… also she develops weird homoerotic enemies to allies to friends to STABS YOU IN THE BACK relationships with two of the other girls in the cast. idk mary is just a silly quirky trans autistic lesbian and yes she wants to destroy the whole world in her grief for her brother and the life she never had but she looked cute doing it!!!"

you can learn more about them here! (art for mariyam by pommeplisa on twitter)

-----

XENIA (she/her) (@mossboss030)

"She's my D&D character, the first one to reach level 20. She had amnesia when I created her and worked in a fighting pit because she was very big and strong. She killed her boss when he made a pass at her and then began her life as a mercenary when she had to leave town. Over the course of the campaign she found out that she was half troll, that her father (the troll) was killed by an adventurer, that her mother had traded her to a devil for a new kid that was fully human, that she was turned into a demon that killed a lot of people (including her mother and replacement). She took that all in stride I think, killing several dragons, dying once and coming back as a demon again that the party had to fight, looking like her actual half-troll self when she came back and meeting the two loves of her life. She later became a full devil after befriending a devil in the campaign and plans on usurping Asmodeus as King of the Hells one day but for right now is enjoying retirement with her two wives. She fought with a big maul and was a multi-class of barbarian and fighter and she was the second smartest person in the party behind the wizard and the ranger's animal companion (a ferret). She adopted (bought) two babies in the city of brass because she felt bad that they'd been abandoned. She also briefly dated two villains in the campaign and tried to date another one but it didn't work out. In conclusion, she's a 6'9" trans butch lesbian, vote for her!"

you can learn more about her here!

[nightingaelic]

could you do Fallout New Vegas companion’s reactions to a Courier Six who is also the Lone Wanderer telling their stories from their time in DC? (bonus points for Arcade’s reaction to them hating the enclave, and if that would make him decide to keep his past hidden even longer, or if he would still tell them?)

The logistics and implications of this make my head spin. This is also super long, honestly I should just quit writing reacts and start writing fics OH WAIT

Getting the courier talking was a tough thing to do, but on nights where the moon was full and the coyotes' howls were miles away or at least behind some stout walls, on nights where they were a few beers in and they hadn't seen another living soul in a few days, that Mojave Express deliverer started to reminisce. That wasn't really the surprising part, though. No, the surprising part was what they would remember, fondly or not-so-fondly: A world apart from the desert, a continent away on another coast, and stories of life in a vault, a missing father, pure water and a Brotherhood divided.

Arcade Gannon: Arcade didn't mind these moods, at least when they first cropped up. He nodded along as the courier talked about living in their father's shadow, about feeling cornered by their own family's legacy. He hung on their words about living in the cradle of America's history, about Project Purity, all of the gritty details of modifying a GECK to bring water to a devastated wasteland.

Eventually though, the courier's memories soured, with the arrival of Enclave remnants in their life. Arcade folded into himself with every harsh word, every jolt of plasma that had disrupted his friend's world relived in horrific detail. They gestured angrily as they described their newfound purpose, their battle for power with the fractured Brotherhood of Steel at their back, and their smug satisfaction at the moments they were able to crack open Raven Rock and the Enclave's mobile base crawler and lay waste to their tormentors.

It took a few rounds of these stories before the courier noticed he shrank and grew quiet whenever they neared the end of their story about breaking into another vault to find the GECK. They stopped abruptly one night. "What's up with you?"

"Um..." Arcade scratched the back of his neck and looked away. "Nothing. Nothing, I just... have some personal experience with the Enclave, myself."

The courier sighed. "Yeah, there's a few people walking around the West Coast that have similar stories to mine. Arroyo's full of them, for one. Is it something like that?"

Arcade took a deep breath. "I feel... well, it's a lot closer to home, for me. Close enough to raise questions, so I don't talk about it much."

"Close enough to..." The courier twisted their face up in confusion for a moment, before realization set in and their eyes grew large. "You were... your... oh."

"Mmm-hm."

"Well, fuck me." The courier smiled and popped a cap off of another beer. "I've been doing all the talking, haven't I? Let's hear your story about working with the guys in power armor who ruined my life, right after dad did."

Craig Boone: Whenever the courier started up like this, Boone couldn't help but notice a familiar twinge of regret and self-doubt in their voice. It shone through most clearly when they spoke about their time with the Brotherhood of Steel, the men and women they'd fought alongside and lost during their struggle against the remnants of the Enclave. It was there, too, in their story about returning to the vault they grew up in, setting the chaos that had arisen in their wake to rest, but not being able to go back to the way things were.

Boone didn't pry. He knew that feeling well. Instead, he cracked open bottles of beer, liquor, soda, whatever they had on hand during their nights in the desert, and just listened. He'd done the same for Carla, when they were younger and new to each other and he couldn't get enough of her voice and how it flowed endlessly, easily, the way his never could. He absorbed it all now as he did then: The joy, the pain, the loss, the fear, the triumphs and falls and abandoned dreams that filled the courier up and drove them to travel west, beyond anything they had ever known.

That last part stumped Boone a bit, though. "Why didn't you stay?" he finally asked one night.

They looked surprised. "Stay? Stay where? I didn't have a home anymore."

Boone shook his head. "With the Brotherhood. Or some other settlement."

"Like Megaton?" The courier sighed. "I thought about it. Close to the vault, friendly people, easy work... I guess I just didn't want to wind up... stuck."

They flushed red and looked away from him. Boone knew why they were embarrassed, but he also knew the truth in their words.

Sometimes the courier cried after they had finished, though they did their best to hide it. Boone pretended not to notice. He was pretty sure they knew he was pretending, but he was also pretty sure that pointing it out would be worse than just letting it be an open secret between them. The silence between them endured, but something grew inside it and flourished. Some kind of deeper understanding.

Lily Bowen: The more the courier spoke, the more Lily made connections in her muddled mind. Of course they knew the basic layout of most vaults, they had grown up in one. Of course they were extra-sensitive to the Mojave heat, they had come to the desert from the cooler of the two coasts. Of course they'd been extra-wary around the super mutants or nightkin of Jacobstown, they had only known angry super mutants looking to grow their own numbers through any means necessary.

Their shared experience of growing up inside a vault reminded Lily of happier days, and she often asked questions about Vault 101 during the courier's stories. "Were you sweet on anyone inside your old home?" she asked, with a big smile befitting a proud grandma.

The courier blushed. "That's not very polite, Lily."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dearie."

"No, no it's okay." The courier smiled. "There was a boy who picked on me a lot, but I never figured out whether he did it because he hated me or liked me. His name was Butch. And there was Amata, my childhood friend. She was the daughter of the Overseer."

"Daughter of the Overseer?" Lily grinned. "I'm sure she was a lovely young woman."

The courier looked a little misty. "Yeah. She was. Probably still is."

Lily pulled a handkerchief that used to be a small tablecloth from inside her overalls and handed it over. "Maybe we can go back there together, pumpkin," she offered. "I always wanted to travel to the capital. We can visit your friends, see the sights."

"Yeah, maybe someday." The courier accepted the gift and blew their nose. "I've got some things I need to finish up here before I even think about wandering back east, though."

"Then let's make a list and do our chores," Lily said happily. "Number one?"

"Ohhhh, man." The courier smiled up at her. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul got a faint smile on his face whenever the courier started up like this, as if their memories reminded him of another place he had come from, another time. While they couldn't have more different backgrounds, pasts- hell, he had several hundred years on the courier, even if they shared the same road today- there was something in the description of the other roads they had walked that made him feel warm on a cold night.

"What's on your mind?" The courier asked him one night, when Raul's smile grew larger than usual.

"Nada, boss," he reassured them. "You're just a good reminder that I can change my mind about the future anytime I'd like. Tell me the one about that radio DJ again."

"Again?" The courier rolled their eyes. "Why? I could tell you a million stories about Underworld and all the ghouls that lived there, but all you want to hear about is Three Dog. You'd probably have more in common with the Underworld folks, honestly."

Raul nodded noncommittally. "Sí, but my favorite stories are about people who had to rise above bad situations and become someone uncommon. Anyone who's able to do that is either fighting for something great or running from something terrible. Sometimes both."

The courier shot him a skeptical look. "Three Dog's holed up in his radio station 24/7, he's not running from anything or out fighting for anything. All that stuff about 'the good fight' is a load of bull."

"Now, now, Six," Raul chastised. "Just because he looks like your average pendejo doesn't mean he isn't doing his part. You even told me his radio show is inspirational for the Capital Wasteland folks."

The courier held their hands up in the air and bobbled them, as if balancing an invisible scale. "The duality of man. Being an average pendejo, or convincing everyone around you that you aren't actually an average pendejo and can pull off miracles."

Raul laughed. "And which one are you, boss?"

"Eh, I'm still figuring it out."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass was never one for fixating on her own past, but she couldn't help but sympathize with the courier whenever they deigned to add onto their unbelievable story. It was hard enough for her to navigate her own damn life: She couldn't imagine being called upon to steer an entire area's destiny.

After another night of recalling their life inside a vault with their dad, then their unexpected loss of him right after being reunited on the surface, the courier stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry," they said.

Cass paused her swig of precious whiskey. "What?"

"I keep going on and on about my dad, and here you are not knowing what happened to yours."

"Eh." Cass took her drink and waved her hand around until the burning swallow made its way down. "S'loads of people in the wasteland without a clue what happened to their pops. I'm not special. In fact, I'd say it probably hurts a bit more, what happened with yours."

"Well, all the same." The courier sank deeper into their seat and examined their own bottle of spirits. "I feel like an open book, tonight. Anything you want to know about where I came from that I haven't already spilled?"

Cass thought for a moment. "Tribals."

"What about them?"

"Does the East Coast have them? You're not the first traveler I've met from there, but none of you have so much as mentioned any tribals out east."

"Mmm." The courier looked thoughtful. "I guess we do have them, though maybe not in the traditional sense. There's a mess of them in Point Lookout for sure, and at least one tribal group in the Capital Wasteland outright, but beyond that things are more... loose. Fewer intact families, fewer intact homes."

"Huh." Cass took another drink. "Maybe that's where my dad went."

She let the courier stew in the awkward silence for a bit before she grinned and reached out to smack them. "Just kidding. Keep going. I want to hear about that giant robot again."

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica usually sat and listened, spellbound, picturing a chapter of her order that had realized the very thing she kept trying to tell the Elders and made the ultimate sacrifice to follow their hearts anyway.

Well, maybe Elder Owyn Lyons hadn't come to the same realization as her, but he had had a change of heart that split his company and cut them off from almost everyone they had ever known. It had been five years since the High Elders had instituted radio silence toward their East Coast chapter, and so far there had been no attempts to re-establish contact.

Veronica prodded the courier for any info she could get about the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel. The courier let slip pretty early in their friendship that Elder Owyn Lyons had passed away, which wasn't unexpected. The man was 76 years old, after all. She learned on one particularly emotional night that his daughter, Elder Sarah Lyons, was also dead, something she wasn't sure even the Western Elders were aware of. That memory was clearly painful for the courier though, so Veronica didn't press for details.

"And the Enclave?" the Scribe asked one night, arms wrapped around her knees. "Are they completely gone?"

The courier grew cold. "Yes. I made sure of it."

"Right." Veronica nodded. "So the Brotherhood took over the air force base they were at. It must have been chock-full of tech and resources, if it was the Enclave's last stand."

"It was." The courier sighed and shifted in their seat. "And it woke up some of our brothers and sisters to their original mission in the Capital Wasteland. I thought maybe that selfishness had died with Liberty Prime, but... well, I didn't like it, so I left."

"Mmm, yeah." Veronica nodded again, sympathetically this time. "I know how you feel. Felt."

"Feel," the courier agreed. "I just wish there was more I could've done. Maybe there wasn't anything else, short of seizing power."

"You'd definitely get pushback for that in the Brotherhood," Veronica agreed. "But you might get that chance out here in the broader Mojave."

ED-E: At first, ED-E enjoyed the stories, trumpeting and cooing various beeps at the appropriate moments for emphasis. The one time the courier began badmouthing the Enclave, however, the eyebot waited until they had finished before playing back the first tape that Dr. Whitley had recorded before its trip.

The courier listened to the scientist's words from years ago, deflating slightly as it played out. When the tape had finished, they stood up and checked the eyebot over. "He sent you toward Navarro, huh?"

ED-E beeped affirmation, and the courier sighed. "But Navarro was already gone. I'm sorry. I guess I'm... well, me and the Brotherhood of Steel back east are responsible for your previous master's decision to send you away. Might be responsible for more, too."

ED-E beeped sadly. The courier pressed their forehead against the eyebot's metal dome in apology.

Rex: Well, surprising for most. Rex was not most. As soon as the courier got really into their recollections, Rex usually yawned and went to sleep. He stirred when he felt their hand reach down to scratch the ruff of his neck, or pat the glass dome that held his brain.

"Good dog," the courier said, through the veil of sleep. "You remind me of another pup that used to follow me around."

[renaroo]

Other History? More Like Other MYSTERY

as in it’s a MYSTERY how the hell this got past an editor the week before Pride Month are you fucking kidding me?

I was kind of hoping for more than like... a week of being back on tumblr before I breathed fire and ripped a comic book to shreds. But we all know why I’m here.

There are so many preemptive things to get out of the way before I rip into this thing...

John Ridley as a writer in other forms of media has been incredibly accomplished and an important additional voice to entertainment industries. I do not wish to take away from that or to minimize the impact of voices like his.

But, you know, he’s a voice in media. Not the end-all, be-all to all marginalized people worldwide who can substitute his perspective for any nonwhite straight male voice. And I don’t think that has ever been more apparent than the continued spiral down the drain that has been every issue of The Other History of the DC Universe since the first. 

DC’s “new” approach to everything being canon and everything mattering is dumb and filled to the brim with ways it’s going to backfire and reveal itself to be the eye sore of publications that it’s aiming for, but I was curious to see how they would try to incorporate these characters’ long and contentious histories in the comics with the real world issues they often were billed to tackle, and try to fit it into the current pop culture landscape. That was the whole reason I had my eye on this comic to begin with.

By the second issue we were getting some stark warning signs because as much as I appreciated hearing an authentic perspective on how the Teen Titans brand carried on while neglecting its landmark Black teen heroes (Mal Duncan and Karen Beecher), there was a note of cruelty added to the issue that felt otherwise misplaced and uncharacteristic of the tone being set. 

There was no reason to have a significant portion of that issue dedicated to Mal and Karen’s monologues taking some aggressive words out on Roy Harper specifically for being an addict. 

Perhaps it was a quirk of writing from a flawed perspective or a show of how righteous upset and anger could be turned outward to other people suffering in a vy for your own empowerment. 

I’m now pretty sure that wasn’t it at all. I’m pretty sure because it kept getting worse every issue and it’s culminated in today’s issue where the retelling of Renee Montoya’s story managed to be petty, cruel, shockingly pro-police brutality int its adulation of Jim Gordon and especially Harvey Bullock, and managed to make a well-rounded and very beloved Latina lesbian and just retrofit every stereotype she never had before to her without regard for what it did to her story or to the stories of people around her. 

Honestly, lapsed faith and a poke at the damage that Catholic guilt can have on especially queer believers is kind of my jam, so it’s not that I wouldn’t be down for a story with that perspective. I could even understand exploring that with Renee. But not at the expense of her established history.

Which is a question all of its own. Here we have the skeletal structure of Renee’s life events that we have read before (in much better stories), but they are surprisingly out of order and also shockingly twisted in a way to make EVERYONE as unpleasant as possible. 

And in a way that has convinced me that either John Ridley has never read comics featuring Renee, or that he was mandated to change things that had no business being changed.

According to this issue Renee hated Batman and other superheroes? Which, ah, I don’t even know where that could come from. Ever since the animated series where she got started, Renee’s whole bag has been “the acolyte of Jim Gordon, only other cop who supports Batman”. Like I don’t even know how you get around that.

But according to Ridley she’s hated them all along as an extension of her internalized homophobia and self-loathing. Great.

What follows out of that is that apparently? Renee and Batman specifically butted heads over wanting to rehabilitate Harvey Dent? As in Renee wanted to help him and BATMAN was the one flipping out and saying Harvey was a sociopath and couldn’t be helped.

Like. I’m starting to question if Ridley has read Batman comics before. I don’t know where that interpretation could possibly come from? Bruce and Harvey were friends? Bruce has always held out hope for saving Harvey from his psychosis? It’s like. THE storyline for Two-Face.

The cop stuff... I don’t really know how to talk about the cop stuff to be completely honest. If you mention the LA Riots on one page and a few pages later try to frame it so that over policing and methods of brutality weren’t a thing until 9/11... I don’t know what to say to you. 

I’d say maybe I was being ungenerous here except there were two characters who got entire full page spreads about what good cops they were. And one of them was goddamn Harvey Bullock with the explicit commentary that Renee USED to be uncomfortable with his torture methods and general brutality but figured it was “okay” because he knew how “innocent people screamed different” and that he “never collared someone and it didn’t stick” because. Y’know. Police violence and falsifying evidence never go hand in hand. what the actual fuck ever right?

The timeline for Renee and Kate’s relationship is also completely changed which means that we get to add a trope I just LOVE as a lesbian personally, which is that lesbians can’t keep relationships and can’t keep from cheating on their loving partners. Especially when they are butch. 

And I’m not talking about Renee cheating on Kate. Oh, no. Ridley decided Kate was the Other Woman during Renee’s relationship with Daria. 

And just.. the cruel commentary that Renee had about both Kate and Daria throughout. It made my skin crawl. The way she talked about other women in general made my skin crawl. “Uncomplicated women” “Broken souls” “Can’t be with someone better than yourself”

So I actually planned to go into a full rage post about just the queer content because 1. my lane and 2. it honestly affected me so bad I was shaking and tearing up in anger a bit. Every single friend I know who loves Kate and Renee, see themselves in Kate and Renee, have been the same kind of mess I am after this.

The NASTINESS of the internal monologue. I don’t know how to explain it more than this is how poorly men think of flf and to have one use a character so meaningful to the community to spout this hatefulness has revolted me in a way I... haven’t had happen to me for a while.

I was going to talk about the weirdness of just... randomly deciding to retcon Renee’s parents into being undocumented when that’s never been a thing before and just doing NOTHING with it the whole while after. Or how it’s pretty questionable how Renee suddenly became so adherently Catholic when it’s never been portrayed like that before (that’s Hel B’s bag, JPV if you squint) but it’s entwined with any of her commentary on her ethnicity p sus too but I don’t have the nuance for that discussion right now.

Rena Rants are back and what a fucking JOKE this comic was. 

I didn’t pay for it and neither should you.

P.S. bringing back Tim Fox and calling him “Jace” is dumb as fuck too

[daughter-of-prospero]

A handy guide to recognizing characters from The Magnus Archives

Ever wonder how to spot who’s who in fanart when there aren’t many physical descriptors given in cannon? Well no worries, here’s a handy-dandy guide to spot your fave archival staff members (and friends!) at a glance, across the multitudes of gorgeous art out there:

Jonathan Sims: If Cecil from Night Vale didn’t sleep for a month and then got run over by a bus. Twice. Thinner than tracing paper. Feral, but fragile. Associated item: Tape recorder. Or twenty.

Martin Blackwood: Sweaters Jumpers and circles! Is he wearing a sweater jumper? Is he drawn entirely using round shapes and soft edges? Do you want to hug him on sight? It’s Martin. The definition of “shaped like a friend”.  Associated item: Mug of tea. (It’s for John. Even when it’s not, it is.)

Tim Stoker: Hot. He has finger guns and he’s not afraid to use them. Associated item: An axe, or the aforementioned guns.

Melanie King: Blindfolded. Usually short, usually angry (mood). May be wearing her own merch.  Associated item: There’s a knife on her somewhere. In hand, as a tattoo, at her hip - sometimes all three.

Georgie Barker: She’s got style. The rest of these motherfuckers wear clothes to function but Georgie’s put to-fucking-gether. I don’t know who decided it, but they’re right. May be wearing her own merch. Associated item: She’s usually got really dope earrings.  

Basira Hussein: Stoic as a sphinx and probably twice as knowledgeable. Often in a police uniform, generally in a hijab. Merely glancing at her image will convey her ruthless competence.  Associated item: A book

Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner: Lean, mean, hunting machine. Many scars. Often in a police uniform. She will beat you up. Alternately: some sort of terrifying wolf monster Basira is comforting. Associated item: Raw butch energy. 

“Elias Bouchard”: Smug DILF.  Associated item: Length of pipe. Or sex toys (you know who you are)

Peter Lukas: Classic sea captain aesthetic. Healthy beard, cheap whistle around the neck. Seen most often in monochrome. Associated item: Elias’ ass (you know who you are).

Jane Prentiss: O, worm? Associated item: See above.

Nikola Orsinov: Uncanny valley...but make it sexy.  Associated item: Circus regalia

Michael: Lots o’ colours. Flowing blond hair from a L’Oreal commercial plus Freddy Kruger hands.  Associated item: Doors

Helen: Lots o’ colours. Powerful 80′s business woman vibes plus Freddy Kruger hands. Associated item: Also doors.

Gerard Keay: The gothest goth to ever goth. Lives at Goth street in Goth city, and takes the goth train every morning to work at Goth Ltd. And honestly? Good for him. He deserves to be able to pursue his interests. Associated item: A Leitner

Gertrude Robinson: The world’s most intimidating grandmother. Associated item: Your corpse, underfoot. She dealt with you before you even realized what was happening. While you were reading this very post, in fact. Now you’re going in the skin book. 

[simplydm]

"Marry me," Ender says, and their words hang in the air for a moment.

Mello stares down at them for a long moment, amber eyes passive. It blinks, tilts its head to the side.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm only attracted to pottery."

And, like a vase on the ground, Ender's dreams shatter.

"Are you..." they start, and then the sob wells up in their throat. They take a deep breath, try again, eyes welling with tears behind bright green bangs.

"Are you serious?" Ender asks.

Mello laughs. It's a harsh, ugly sound. "Yeah," he says, rolling his eyes.

"Ender...I would wipe your tears, but I can't lean down that far." And it turns and walks away.

Ender sits there for some time, stunned in silence. It...hurts. It hurts more than they would ever expect something to. Up until now there had always been...this reliance. This concept of Mello and Ender, Ender and Mello, two halves of a whole. A sense of belonging, and now it felt like something they thought was theirs had been stripped away.

Their hands are numb. They fumble for their phone and, fingers shaking, dial a number. The phone rings once, twice, then Milo picks up.

"Hi, Ender!" She says cheerily.

"Milo," Ender says. They don't know what else to say.

"Are you okay?" Milo asks in concern, voice softening.

"No." Ender can't elaborate, not now. "Can you come pick me up?"

"I can get Juniper to drive us," Milo says gently. "Stay safe, stay warm. We're on our way."

Juniper arrives twenty minutes later in his old van, Milo poking their head out of the backseat. She helps Ender inside while Juniper waves quietly without saying anything and steps on the gas. There’s a sticker on the window that says ‘World’s Best Van Driver’. It, conspicuously, covers the entire glass. Sometimes Ender believes the sticker must be true, because otherwise Juniper would have crashed them already due to the fact that he can’t even see out of the windshield. Juniper always says “I may need a booster seat, but I drive better with one than some people do without one.”

Ender likes that about Juniper. He makes them feel taller by association.

As Ender stares out the window they see a figure standing on the side of the road up ahead. It’s Mello, securely swathed in his purple coat.

“L DANCE, YOU’RE FUCKING SHOOORTTT.” It screams as they drive by.

“Don’t listen to him,” Milo says urgently to Juniper. “You’re not short, Juniper. We all believe in you. You’re tall, I promise.”

Juniper has already started crying.

“I’m going to hit it with my van,” they say determinedly, but as they drive towards Mello it does an epic backflip and jumps over the van. Its boots clunk on top of the ceiling.

“Get down!” Milo shouts, and pulls out her pistol. She unloads nine rounds into the roof of the van, bullets punching holes into the metal.

“Missed me!” Mello screams before Juniper swerves and he falls off the van.

“Hit the gas!” Ender shouts urgently, leaning towards the front seat. Juniper accelerates away from the fallen purplette.

“I’m so glad we got away.” Ender leans back into their seat and slams a celebratory Monster.

“Not so fast!” A silken and familiar voice bellows. Ender looks out the window to see Cey barrelling towards them in her car. Mello hangs off the passenger’s side door, a missile launcher in its hands.

“Me and my wife will kick your asses!” He shouts, loading the gun.

“It’s too late,” Milo says grimly. She leans down under a seat and pulls out her nuclear launch code. “There’s no other way.”

Juniper and Ender nod. They are resigned to their fate. Each of them pull out their own detonator.

“We need the fourth detonator to do this!” Juniper tells them all.

Ila is in the backseat of the van. No one knows how long he’s been there.

“I have mine,” she says stonily. “Are we really doing this?”

Four thumbs hover over four detonators.

“If we die,” Ila whispers. “So does Butch, and there can be no nobler fate.”

“STOP.” A voice booms out across the highway. A light emanates from the sky, blinding them all.

“This is not the way of the divine,” SageXD says serenely as they descend from the sky, their power too great for any mortal eyes to comprehend. “This destruction, this heartbreak…do you not feel shame?”

“None at all,” DM says from her car Wheels McGee, as she aims her pistol straight for Sage’s godly heart. They pull the trigger.

God dies that day. And, finally, DM ascends to her divine throne and true power.

That’s when the world goes to shit.

whats up gayboi

Hi hi yeah I should and will kill god and take my throne

[girldirectionsource]

hey!! could you recommend any long wlw fics?? preferably more than 70k words. thanks:)

Hi! Unfortunately, there aren’t that many longer girl direction fics but I do have two amazing ones to rec you that are both over 100k:

You Make Lovin’ Fun by @homosociallyyours

Harry is a 28 year old travel writer at a gay magazine who gets the assignment to go a lesbian cruise. She figures it's a nice chance to have some fun in the sun, but she's not expecting much else-- even if her partner and best friend are both encouraging her to hook up with someone while she's there.

When she locks eyes with a gorgeous silver fox from across the room, she starts to think she could've been wrong. There are lots of things standing in the way of anything real happening with her and Louis, but that doesn't stop them from falling for one another. True love isn't always easy, but they do make lovin' fun.

Crazy and Infectious by @star55

“Y’know,” Louis starts. “While we’ve got our phones out, you should give me your number. In case they ask who referred them.” “Oh, they don’t do that,” Harry replies as she locks her phone. “They’re not the kind of company who keeps tabs on who refers who.” Louis raises her eyebrows and smiles at this beautiful girl. “Harry,” she says slowly. “I’m hitting on you.”

A Shades of Pink story in which we flash back to find out just how Louis and Harry actually got together.

(If you haven’t read it yet, the entire Shades of Pink (Crazy in Love) series is over 400k at this point and I highly recommend checking it out!)

more under the cut!

And then here are some recs between 50k and 70k:

I love your demons (like devils can) by ariadne_odair

"I am right here," she says loudly, and she can almost hear the crack when Louis' head whips around to stare at her.

"Why?" Louis asks, and Harry feels her insides shrivel up and die.

Harry didn’t plan to join the football team. She didn’t plan to sleep with the captain of the football team. She definitely didn’t plan to sleep with the closeted captain of the football team, who promptly acted as if nothing happened and left Harry a pathetic, pining mess.

The Changer and the Changed by @homosociallyyours

It’s the spring of 1977 and Harry Styles has just moved to New York City after graduating college. She knows she’s a lesbian. She just needs to figure out how to meet other lesbians.

Louis Tomlinson works at a popular women’s bookstore in the Lower East Side, Womon’s Direction, where she spends her days reading feminist literature, writing poetry, exchanging friendly barbs with her boss Niall, and dreaming of finding someone to love.

When Harry and Louis meet, their connection is instantaneous. Slowly but surely, Louis welcomes Harry into her community of women. Stonewall veteran and old school butch Niall; Liam, a land dyke who’s moved to the city for love; and Zayn, a lesbian musician who’s been ostracized by a vocal part of women’s community for being trans, welcome Harry with open arms, ready to help her find her place in New York City’s bustling lesbian scene.

It’s a time of growth for everyone involved.

If I Was Stronger by @haloeverlasting

Harry’s fingers find her lips, in a silent moment of wonder and reverie, and her knees wobble as she’s assaulted with the image of Louis, right here in her bedroom, with her light blue eyes, and her gentle hands, and Harry feels an overwhelming rush and longing to reach out and touch. She imagines Louis stepping towards her slowly, treading lightly with her fingers on her cheek, where Harry’s dimple may appear, and whether Harry would like it if Louis’ thin lips found hers.

With her eyes closed, she imagines Louis standing very close, and she finds the wait to be agonizing, but when she goes to close the distance, there’s no one besides herself in her bedroom.

Harry lets out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. She feels tingly, and hot, and absolutely terrified, but the next time she looks in the mirror, she sees someone she knows intimately. She sees that girl with bright green eyes, and unruly hair, and parted lips, and she loses her breath a moment, because while she knows that girl inside and out, she hasn’t been honest with herself until… well, now.

“I might be gay.”

A Girl Direction AU where Louis holds universes inside her, and Harry just wants to hold her.

That Smile and That Midnight Laugh by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

Harry’s never noticed how lovely Louis really is. Maybe it’s just that she’s usually so guarded – a little tense, a little irritated, a little put out. At least when she’s at school, and also usually when she’s around Nick, which are the only times Harry has really seen her. Until tonight. Tonight Harry’s seen her with her guard completely down. Too busy laughing and enjoying herself to remember to be prickly, maybe. She seems different.

It feels different.

A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.

Sea Asunder by @cupcakentea 

It’s only then, as Anne elegantly sits at the other end of the table, that Louis realises there’s a third set of cutlery and plate laid out on the side between them. She feels something twist in her belly, right when the sound of small heels coming closer echoes from the drawing room. She looks at Anne’s side, where the door she came from remains ajar. But she realises, as the steps slow down, that the one on hers is wide open. She feels the hair on her neck standing up slightly with what feels like a shift in the very atmosphere of the room. A gravitational pull that passes right by her side with no words, no sound, just a disturbance of the air. There she is.

A Portrait of a Lady on Fire AU

i must admit i thought i’d like to make you mine by @disgruntledkittenface

Louis fell apart when her ex broke up with her and moved across the country. Just as she’s starting to move on, Zayn comes back to town for their mutual friends’ wedding – with a new girlfriend as her plus one.

Blindsided and scrambling to save face, Louis lets herself get talked into a fake relationship with her new friend Harry. Their arrangement makes Louis feel pathetic and embarrassed, but it’s only going to last a few weeks. She just has to get through the wedding – what could happen?

And here some fics I found while putting this together that I haven’t read yet but which look good!

into the great wide open by @ficshl

It only took a week or so for Harry to truly get into the routine of life on the road. They woke before dawn each morning, ate a small meal, packed up the tent and rounded up the livestock, all before setting out. On a good day, they could make it twenty miles. There hadn’t been many bad ones, but Louis confessed that on a previous trip there had been a solid week where they hadn’t made it more than five miles a day. Soon, Louis promised, animals would start going lame, and wheels would start breaking, and people would start going hungry. The beginning was the easiest, and the end was doable only because the hope of finishing the trek fueled everyone. It was the middle bit, with the tedious marching hundreds of miles from any settlement, that people succumbed to the journey.

Safe and warm in your coat of arms by frenchkiss

If she's being completely honest with herself, Louis didn't want a girlfriend. She had fully intended to head off to university, fuck around a bit, and be the lesbian that her hometown hadn't let her be.

Too bad fate wanted to throw a spanner in the works. A tall, curly haired cherub of a spanner who tends to answer to the name Harry, to be exact.

Me, Her, And The Moon by star55

All Louis wants to do is survive secondary school and her A Levels, be the best sister that she can possibly be to her five sisters, and train as hard as possible to be her family’s future alpha. She doesn’t expect to meet her mate on the first day of school and have her entire world changed.

[laundryandtaxes]

What type of watch’s do you recommend? I’m a baby bi that’s a tomboy and I want nice watch but I know there’s a certain etiquette when it comes to watches. I like rolexes but that’s waaaaay above my budget, I want a nice watch but something affordable (: thanks in advance! 🥰

Honestly this will depend a lot on your budget and what "affordable" means to you! To me, "affordable" means that I can reasonably expect to be able to save up for an item within several months WITHOUT it impacting my general savings goals. For me, that number means that a watch that costs around $500 is one that I personally consider affordable, but that number may be higher or lower for you.

The first question to ask yourself is whether you prefer an automatic watch, a manual wind watch, or a quartz watch. The watch I wear almost every day is an automatic watch- that means it is wound by the movement of the wearer's wrist in daily life. Automatic watches will have a /relatively/ smooth seconds hand sweep, and really nice automatic watches will have extremely smooth seconds hand sweeps. Even office workers generally move their wrists enough to power an automatic watch. However, if you sit an automatic watch down for longer than what is called its "power reserve," normally between 24 and 48 hours, it will stop, and that means you'll need to reset the watch to wear it again. Here is my Traska Freediver, my daily wear watch. It is an automatic watch, in a dive watch style.

Dive watches are so called because the design was originally made for divers to be able to time how long they'd been under. In the dark, like I imagine it would be 150 meters under the surface of the ocean, dive watches pretty much all have some material applied that makes them glow in the dark so the wearer can measure time under, and can read the time itself. I use my countdown bezel regularly for timing pasta, timing tasks at work, etc.

A manual wind watch is one where the owner needs to manually wind the watch, usually around once a day, to power it. Again, if you do not wind the watch regularly, it will stop. For both automatics and manual winds, this is not a problem and in fact it can be good to give a watch some rest time occasionally. Both automatic and manual wind watches are not 100% accurate- they will have a range of how many seconds they lose or gain in a day. Really well made watches by companies like Omega and Rolex can sometimes run off by as little as a 4 to 6 seconds a day, while cheaper watches may lose or gai. as much as 10 or 20 or in bad cases even a couple of minutes per day.

Quartz watches are powered by a battery. The way they work is, basically, that a quartz vibrates at a particular frequency, which translates into one movement of the seconds hand per second. This is the tick tick tick you're likely familiar with in watches. These watches are inherently more accurate than Rolexes because they are more accurate than any automatic or manual wind watch. You can sit a quartz watch down ans pick it up a week later and it will have kept perfect time. However, the smooth sweep of the seconds hand is usually very expensive to accomplish with a quartz watch. A lot of watch snobs turn their nose up at quartz watches because most mass produced watches today are quartz powered, but the truth is that this was a revolutionary technology at one point that almost killed the luxury watch market because it meant any $10 Casio would inherently keep better time than any automatic Rolex. Now, many luxury watchmakers produce both automatic and quartz watched, including Rolex and Omega. I own several quartz watches, including a Casio Databank and a Timex Q I actually got for free through a butch group on Facebook! The very first watch I ever wore every day, when I was maybe 20 or 21, was a Timex Weekender, and it's what got me into watches. Here is my Databank. It cost me maybe $25 and I can do math with it.

The second question to answer is whether you care about what is often called "heritage" I the watch world. This refers to a company having an extensive and well-repsected history of making competent watches. Companies with undeniable heritage that make affordable watches include Seiko, Hamilton, Bulova, and frankly Casio. There are others, of course, but there are a few to get you started. Traska, the brand that made my watch, is what's called a microbrand- microbrands buy movements (the guts inside the watch) from other companies and most of them create original designs of their own, but they're young companies that don't have 100 years of watchmaking experience.

The third question to answer is whether you're okay with "homages," a euphemistic term for a watch that outright copies another, more famous and usually more expensive watch, sometimes while changing a design and sometimes not. Pagani Design, a company that makes their watches in China to keep costs down but lately has achieved really exceptional metal finishing for the price, pretty much only makes homages, like their recent copy of the Rolex Explorer 2. Ginault is a company that makes higher end Rolex "homages," which in this case we really can pretty much call copies because rumor has it they used to sell counterfeits and then got so good at it that they decided to put their own brand on the package. The Invicta Pro Diver is a Rolex submariner homage, but most owners say theirs is built well and Invicta makes plenty of, most horrible but sometimes classy, original designs as well. A lot of watch snobs will turn their nose up at homages because the watch will lack "heritage," but only you can make the call of how much original design matters to you. If you see anything that says it is Bauhaus inspired, anything with "sub" in the name, anything with all round hour indices except a triangular 12 o clock marker, you're probably looking at an homage.

So once you've got your answer to those questions you can dig into watch models! I'm going to rattle off a bunch of watches around or under $250, because I think spending more than that on a hobby you may not be that into is kind of silly to start. From Seiko, their SKX007 and the smaller SKX013 are undeniably classic, well made, respectable watches. Their SNK809 (these are called references, and they're annoying) is also an undeniably well respected watch that has enough water resistance for fishing on my experience. And while their Seiko 5 Sports line isn't for me, lots of people really enjoy it. You USED to be able to get an SKX007 for around $200- they're discontinued for some reason, which means prices have risen, but sometimes you can still find them around that price. For around the same price, you can generally find a used Hamilton Khaki King or other Khaki model in good condition. You can also go vintage with either brand, but be aware there are loads of fake vintage watches out there, so do your research before purchasing if spending what is, to you, a lot of money. The SNK809 was my first automatic watch, and here's it on my wrist.

You can also find lots of cool vintage automatics and manual winds in this price range, including the Vostok Amphibia. These were Soviet watches designed for divers. The countdown bezels suck ass, but the design is original and cool and the case is actually designed so that it grows more and more waterproof as a diver dives further under the surface of the water. Here's my Amphibia.

If you think quartz will be your thing then you've got loads of options in this price range. Pretty much anything by Timex, including their very cool Timex Q, loads of watches by Casio, lots of Seiko quartz options, etc. In terms of truly iconic affordable quartz watches I think the Mondaine watch whose name I cannot recall, the Casio F91W, and the Casio World Time are all very classic, well respected quartz models.

I know this was a lot, so let me know if you have more specific questions or if certain things really pique your interest more than others!

[tcm]

Mickey Rooney’s Best Performance By Jessica Pickens

Mickey Rooney’s home studio wanted him to serve his country during World War II … but not in the way that you think. During World War II, Hollywood film studios helped express patriotic ideas through film. This could be through a film on soldiers experiencing military life, depicting Americana or Americans on the World War II homefront making sacrifices for those overseas.

As Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer’s top box-office draw, Rooney was cast in homespun comedies and musicals with wholesome values. Since 1937, Rooney starred in the Andy Hardy film series, where he played a teenager that figured out life, love and turned to his judge father for a “man-to-man talk” when he needed help. In total, there were 15 Andy Hardy films from 1937 to 1946 (and one later in 1958 with Andy Hardy as an adult) and they were hugely successful for the studio.

MGM felt that Rooney’s films, like Andy Hardy, personified American ideals and what servicemen and women were fighting for overseas. At least … that’s what MGM told the draft board.

With the war raging overseas, it was a real possibility that Rooney would be drafted, especially when other MGM contract players enlisted or were drafted. But studio heads wanted to keep Rooney out of the war and in front of film cameras, according to his biographers Richard A. Lertzman and William J. Birnes.

In 1942, Eddie Mannix, MGM executive and “fix it” man, sent formal documents to the local draft board to get Rooney an occupational deferment. Mannix cited the Andy Hardy films and their patriotism and that Rooney would soon begin production on another film important to the American homefront, THE HUMAN COMEDY (’43). Lertzman and Birnes noted that Mannix also stated the main reason MGM didn’t want Rooney in the military: the studio would lose millions.

The appeal was denied, but Rooney received an extension; allowing him to make THE HUMAN COMEDY. Based on a story by William Saroyan and directed by Clarence Brown, THE HUMAN COMEDY is a quiet story that follows an American family, the Macauley’s, during a year of adjustments in the small town of Ithaca. The film is narrated by Mr. Macauley, played by Ray Collins, who died two years prior. The eldest son Marcus (Van Johnson) is drafted. To help support the family, teenaged Homer (Rooney) gets an evening job in the local telegraph office. Homer’s family is rounded out by Ma (Fay Bainter), his sister Bess (Donna Reed) and his five-year-old brother Ulysses (Jackie “Butch” Jenkins).

As Homer gets more comfortable in his job, he matures and feels like everyone around him is changing — when it’s really just that he is growing up. As a telegraph delivery boy, he takes difficult messages to mothers who have lost their sons, and he has the responsibility of looking after alcoholic telegraph operator Willie Grogan, played by Frank Morgan. Everyone around Homer also changes and adapts. Bess and her friend Mary allow three soldiers on furlough to join them at the movies; knowing that soon they will see action on the battlefield. Homer’s boss Tom Spangler and socialite Diana Steed marry — bridging a social class gap and realizing that they are more similar than they think. Even Ulysses starts to learn more about life around him, like what it means to be afraid.

While the entire cast of notables play their roles superbly, Mickey Rooney is the standout performance in THE HUMAN COMEDY, and earned an Academy Award nomination for the role. In many of his other films, Rooney’s characters were variations of his Andy Hardy character. It didn’t matter if Rooney was portraying Huckleberry Finn or putting on a musical show with Judy Garland, shades of Hardy shine through.

But in THE HUMAN COMEDY, he plays the role in a restrained and mature manner. He’s emotional but doesn’t overact. It’s one of Rooney’s best performances. Perhaps because of a warning director Clarence Brown gave him: “The first time you shed an unnecessary tear or start any of the mugging you’re famous for, I’m going to halt everything, walk right out in the middle of the set, and give you a swift kick in the pants.”

Despite the early admonishing, Brown later said that Rooney was one of the greatest film talents and “could do no wrong in his book,” according to Brown’s biographer Gwenda Young. In one scene, Rooney had to emotionally read a telegram and react to the bad news. Brown was amazed that with each take, Rooney would “read it as though he’d seen it for the first time.” Brown and Rooney both later said that THE HUMAN COMEDY was one of the best films they made.

The film also features new talent such as Van Johnson, Donna Reed, Don DeFore, Barry Nelson and Robert Mitchum in his first film role.

Released in March 1943, the film garnered mixed reviews from critics, but ultimately was a success. Critics like Bosley Crowther of the New York Times said it was charming and had “moments of extraordinary beauty” but was also filled with “maudlin gobs of cinematic goo” when it came to some of the sermon-like dialogue. Critics overseas, who were closer to the battlefield, struggled with the message of “all men are angels,” according to Young.

As Rooney was filming THE HUMAN COMEDY, Mannix continued to submit appeals to the draft board from August 1942 to February 1943. Studio physician Dr. Edward Jones even stated that Rooney had a heart flutter, classifying him as 4F — unfit for duty, according to Lertzman and Birnes. Eventually, Rooney was able to serve his country more than in his film roles. Rooney was reclassified as 1A and he was enlisted in the Army in June 1944. Rooney later said he was proud of his service and continued to support veterans and attend World War II veteran ceremonies, including leading the Memorial Day Parade in Washington, D.C. in 2008.

[gatheringbones]

Deva, “FTM/Female-to-Male: An Interview with Mike, Eric, Billy, Sky, and Shadow” from Dagger: On Butch Women, edited by Lily Burana, Roxxie, and Linnea Due, Cleis Press, 1994

[”There is as much mystery surrounding female-to-male transsexuality as there is surrounding butchness. Since no source of information on FTMs is more credible or insightful than FTMs themselves, we shunned speculative pieces in favor of the following round-table discussion.

(...)

Deva: Is there anything else you guys want to talk about that you feel is important?

Sky: I wanted to talk just a bit more about that particular thought, about people coming to San Francisco and this being trendy. I think that it’s more of an evolution of a culture that’s really starting to examine what our lives are about. We’ve gotten more and more defined about people who are incest survivors, people who are abuse survivors, and taking parts of our lives apart and examining them and figuring how they work and how they don’t work, and how they make us be who we are. I don’t see it as a trend that will be dropped; I see it as a trend that more people will follow and begin to examine how they feel about their sexual identity and their gender in the world. 

Shadow: The cynical part of me doesn’t believe that. I certainly hope that that’s true and I would really like to see that happen because this human race could use it. But there’s also the part of me that’s watching leather and S/M get very yuppified— all of a sudden it’s the thing to look very bad and beautiful and nasty...

Deva: Like Madonna.

Shadow: Yeah. I mean, Harley Davidson has gone yuppie, for Christ sake.... The cynical part of me says it’s a trend.

Mike: The one thing I wanted to stress was that whether you’re into genderfuck, genderblur, genderplay, whatever you want to call it, does not mean that you are FTM or will become FTM. So whoever’s reading this, if you’re interested in exploring it, if it feels good, do it. Ask questions, check it out, and don’t be afraid that just by trying something you’re totally going to catch it.

Sky: I would like to say one thing in closing. For me, I have always looked to the women of the world to be the trendsetters, to be the high aimers, to be the people who make other people look at things, make them think about them, make them feel about them. And I regard this particular process that I’m involved in to be yet another one of those things that women will be the pioneers in. Women who are in the lesbian community, women who are in the feminist community, whatever communities they are in, will begin to get a grip about this, and not only become advocates of people becoming more fully realized human beings, but will also be the pioneers in stopping this insanity of dealing with each other on a gender basis. And that will bring more humanity to us as a culture. I still have a lot of faith in women being the ones to do that.”]

[supermanandlois-updates]

Make Superman sad, or make him evil. Ditch those red underpants and butch the bright blue tights into dark blue kevlar. Let him snap somebody's neck. Kill his parents — no, kill him! Now bring him back, in black! Almost three decades after the Man of Steel died hard and bloody in one of the bestselling comics ever, the "mature" or "dark" take on him is the conventional wisdom. Amazon has two shows about nefarious Superman-types. HBO Max promises to delete all Henry Cavill's smiles from Justice League. There's a hit videogame franchise where Superman brutally conquers the world — and, in a new Suicide Squad game's trailer, he incinerates an innocent human with heat vision. Superman & Lois takes a much bolder creative risk, transforming the hero into the most embarrassingly uncool creature in the multiverse: A dad.

The new CW series (debuting Tuesday, Feb. 23 at 8 p.m.) arrives with a lot of runway. Elizabeth Tulloch and Tyler Hoechlin previously guest-starred as Lois and Clark across the network's DC lineup. In Hoechlin's seventh appearance, he played an evil Superman doppelganger in a black costume threatening to snap Flash's neck: Check, check, checkeroo. The 90-minute premiere welcomes fresh viewers, though, skipping from familiar crash-landing origins into unfamiliar territory.

Lois and Clark are married, living in a Metropolis brownstone with teen sons. Jonathan (Jordan Elsass) plays football and has a girlfriend. His twin brother, Jordan (Alexander Garfin), plays lonely videogames and suffers from social anxiety disorder. Raising a Winklevoss and a Zuckerberg isn't easy. Before the opening title even appears onscreen, Superman stops "a meltdown the size of Fukushima!" with ice breath — which makes him late for Jordan's therapy. "You really do need to be around more," grandma Martha Kent (Michele Scarabelli) chastises her son. "The boys need to see what a strong and loving and vulnerable man looks like." No, no, you're crying.

Hoechlin has a sweet smile, and the build of a decent athlete who doesn't go crazy with the weight training. In the opening montage, Superman rescues a little boy from a falling car. He sets the automobile down, picks up the dazed kid's baseball cap, and hands it back with a smile: "There you go, friend!" Hoechlin makes the line sincere and unforced, like he just helped his neighbor carry a couch upstairs.

He's a bit retro, is what I'm saying, and the notion of the last son of Krypton as a genial patriarch harkens back to a bygone Beppo-the-super-monkey era. But this old-fashioned man of tomorrow lives in a scary new today. The Daily Planet got purchased by billionaire Morgan Edge (Adam Rayner), and the paper's experiencing another round of layoffs. When Clark visits Smallville, he finds a typical 20th-century town gone to typical 21st-century rot. "It's hard for family farms to make it around here nowadays," a local tells Clark Kent — the boy raised on maybe the most famous family farm in pop culture history! Clark's teen crush Lana (Emmanuelle Chriqui) has her own kids, and she works as a loan officer, which in this debt-ridden burg makes her an angel of death. Her brooding fire-chief husband Kyle (Erik Valdez) keeps busy putting out meth explosions. "Everybody else we know moved away," Lana tells Clark. Is that an accusation?

(xx)

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 41 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Halloween

This Chapter: Things look up for Violet but turn iffy for Adore.

***

Pearl swayed a little in her heels as Adore’s lips trailed down her neck. They were half-dressed at this point, making their way to Adore’s bedroom. Adore’s jacket and shirt had been discarded, leaving her in just a thin undershirt, suspenders dangling around her waist. Pearl’s skirt was around her ankles, sweater somewhere on the floor.

She stepped out of the skirt, a sharp inhale leaving her as Adore shoved her roughly up against a wall. Her hands threaded into Adore’s hair, which was up in a tight bun, and immediately began pulling it apart. She loved the whole butch look that Adore was rocking tonight, but she loved it even more when she got to unravel it. Pearl’s hand traveled along the wall, reaching for the door handle, finally pushing it open and pulling Adore into the bedroom.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Adore breathed, pushing Pearl onto the bed.

Pearl smirked, enjoying the desperate edge in her voice as her hands groped for her bra clasp, the unrefined way she clawed at her panties to yank them down. She spread her thighs, head falling backward, hand tangled into Adore’s hair to guide her along.

“I love your pussy,” Adore continued, lapping her up vigorously, fingers digging into her thighs. “You’re perfect, so perfect…”

Adore kept lavishing praise on her, and Pearl could feel her muscles tense. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, to close it out and focus on the way her body was responding, but it quickly became impossible. She took a deep breath and rolled Adore over onto her back, thighs straddling her face.

“Stop talking.”

Adore panted up at her, surprise all over her face as her eyes went dark. “Are you gonna punish me?”

The way she just immediately folded, immediately ceded all power to Pearl, was even more intoxicating than if she’d been submissive all along.

“I should,” Pearl said hoarsely. She ran a finger along Adore’s bottom lip. “I should show you who’s boss.”

“Do it.” Adore trembled beneath her, gripping her thighs for dear life.

Pearl took hold of the headboard and lowered herself until her pussy was pressed up against Adore’s face, riding her slowly, dictating the pressure and pace, all the while watching the blissed-out expression in Adore’s eyes. By the time Pearl came with a satisfied groan, Adore’s panties, her usual boy-cut cotton briefs, were soaked through.

It was hard not to laugh. This was the same girl who, just hours earlier, had been manhandling her on the dance floor as if she were the king of the world. And now, all it took was a few swipes of Pearl’s thumb to reduce her to a whimpering, shaking mess.

“You like that?”

“B-baby, please,” Adore begged, pupils fully dilated, hands clutching at Pearl’s hair and shoulders. “I need to come, I need-”

“Shh, shhhh…” Pearl silenced her with a kiss, finally plunging her fingers inside to give her what she so desperately wanted, stroking her g-spot until she cried out, then continuing to play with her until she was wrung out, too weak to even lift her head.

Afterwards, Pearl sucked her fingers into her mouth with a satisfied grin, letting Adore curl against her as usual, wrapping her warm body into a sweaty embrace.  

***

Sutan woke to the ever familiar scent of lavender, and the sensation of Violet’s hair up his nose.

He huffed, moving his face away, only to smile when Violet groaned, her hand coming up to grab his arm and pull him back down, forcing him to mold himself back against her back, the bed creaking underneath them.

Last night, they hadn’t returned to Sutan’s place as he had originally expected, instead, they had ended up in Violet’s apartment because Violet had insisted that she would die if she didn’t get pizza from a specific pizzeria near her building, and who was Sutan to argue with that?

“Morning gorgeous.” Sutan smiled, pressing a kiss against Violet’s shoulder, but the action only earned him another deep groan, Violet for once very clearly hungover. “Where is your bed frame?”

“Only rich people have bed frames.”

“Sure.” Sutan snorted, burrowing his face in Violet’s hair, pulling her against him.

It was strange to be in Violet’s bedroom, Sutan realizing last night with a flash of embarrassment that this was the first time he had been inside Violet’s apartment. He had picked her up from her building countless times, but they had always stayed at his, Sutan not even entertaining the idea that he should come up.

“Is there any leftover pizza?” Violet looked over her shoulder, a little bit of the mascara she hadn’t managed to get off smudged under her eye.

“You only had two slices.” Sutan had bought a pepperoni pizza for himself, Violet for some godforsaken reason going straight for pineapple and only pineapple. “I put it in your fridge.”

Sutan had never expected Violet to be someone who enjoyed cooking, but he had been shocked when he had opened her refrigerator last night, a bottle of carrot juice, a carton of almond milk and a half eaten takeaway salad all he had spotted in there.

“I’ll go get it.” Violet slipped out of bed, and Sutan couldn’t help but smile as she was wearing the tiniest pair of panties, her Hepburn jewels still around her neck since Sutan hadn’t been able to figure out the lock with a drunk and sleepy Violet in his arms.

Sutan sat up, running his hand through his hair as he looked around the bedroom, a tower of brown moving boxes in the corner. Violet’s clothes were all put away, two clothing racks holding dresses Sutan immediately recognized, but beyond the wardrobe, the room was strangely bare and devoid of personal touches.

“Huh.” Sutan bit his lip, getting out of bed. He grabbed his undershirt from the floor, cursing to himself when he realized that he didn’t have his reading glasses, using his phone without them a surefire way to feel like shit after a night out.

“Do you want coffee?” Sutan turned his head to see Violet standing in the door, now wrapped in a robe, a plate and a slice of pizza with missing bites in her hand. “I’m afraid I only have instant.”

“Instant is fine.” It wasn’t really, not when he was used to his top of the line espresso machine, but he wasn’t going to create a fuss. “Do you have anything that isn’t pineapple pizza?”

“I can make oatmeal?” Violet smiled, and he guessed that somewhat explained the strange lack of food in her fridge.

“How about I take us out for breakfast?”

***

“Raaaaaaaj,” Raven whispered, her lips right next to her fiancée's ear. “Wake up.”

They had come home from the party last night, Raja helping her out of her costume, the two of them falling into bed, drunk sex always a fucking treat, the feeling of Raja’s fake mustache against her inner thighs so strange they had both been hiccuping from laughter.

“Mmmh?”

“I’m hungry.” Raven smirked as she felt Raja’s hand travel up her back, the other woman finally awake.

“Make breakfast then.”

“I wanna go out.” Raven nuzzled her nose against Raja’s neck.

“You can starve for all that I care.”

Raven laughed. Grumpy Raja was one of her favorites, the whine in her voice one that never came out anywhere else, being allowed to see her like this, a treasure Raven guarded with her life.

“Please-” Raven nuzzled her face even closer against Raja’s neck, pressing kisses to the warm skin. “I want buttered croissants.”

“Mmh-” Raja hummed, her fingers finding the ends of her hair. Raven knew she wasn’t actually tempted by the promise of bread, Raja beyond annoying with how easy it was for her to not give in to culinary temptations.

“If you put some pants on, I can call for a car-”

“No can do buttercup.” Raja started petting her hair. “The moment I leave this bed, I have to work.”

“Seriously?” Raven sat up on her elbows, Raja actually opening her eyes now, a bit of glue still on her top lip. “Don’t look at my tits.”

“Sorry,” Raja smirked, her eyes still focused on Raven’s chest.

“You have to work? Again?” Raven wanted to throw a fit. It wasn’t a new thing that Raja worked on the weekends, it wasn't a new thing that she was constantly fighting for her attention, but this, this was a new low, both of them naked and hung over. “It’s Sunday?”

“The preparations for the Spring collection are right around the corner. You know people depend on me and Fame has unfortunately handed me a mug.”

Raven huffed, throwing herself back down on the bed, turning her back to Raja as she pulled the duvet under her chin.

“Princess-” Raven felt Raja curl around her back. “Don’t be upset.”

“And what about me? I depend on you too,” Raven grumbled, the words caught by the duvet, but Raja somehow still heard them.

“I know.” Raja peeled the duvet down, pressing a kiss against Raven’s shoulder blade. “How about we order in, eat in bed-”

“Hm?” Raven turned her head.

“And when I’m done with my very important job,” Raja smiled, her hand sneaking under the covers and settling on Raven’s hip. “I spend the very important money I make on buying very important things for our trip to Aspen?”

“Mmh,” Raven chewed her lip to keep the smile off of her face. “I guess that’s acceptable.”

***

“Ah, that hits the spot.”

Violet smiled to herself as she watched Sutan take the first sip of the double espresso he had ordered. They were sitting at a small cafe, Sutan actually cleaning up surprisingly nicely for the fact that he had only had his costume from last night at her place.

“Glad to see your craving could be satisfied.”

“Oh?” Sutan grinned, tapping his foot against hers underneath the table. “Do you really think you have room to be snarky, Miss Pineapple?”

Violet bit her lip, her cheeks heating up. She couldn’t exactly remember the entirety of last night after bumping into Courtney, Raven talking her into yet another round of shots, but she did remember Sutan’s hand on her back, did remember unlocking her door and whining when she couldn’t get her necklace off.

“Concentrate on your breakfast.”

Sutan laughed, trapping her foot between his own before he dug into his cinnamon French toast. Violet herself had opted for a sunnyside egg and a smoothie, the pizza slice she had devoured before Sutan was ready to leave sitting heavy in her stomach.

Sutan was chatting about last night, telling her a story about Detox, the two men surprisingly close for how different they were. Violet wasn’t truly listening, but it didn’t seem to matter, Sutan more than happy to just up the space.

“Lovely eyes-” Violet was pulled out of her thoughts, the man watching her with his brown eyes. “You’re tapping along with the music.”

Sutan was pointing with his fork, and Violet looked down at her fingers, her almond-shaped nails tapping on table.

“Huh…” Violet hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even listened to the music, but now that she was aware, she could hear the notes of Waltz of the Flowers, the cafe for some reason playing Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. The music was such an ingrained part of who she was, the ballet one she had danced every December since she was 6 years old. “I’m sorry.”

“Bringing back memories?” Sutan smirked, a kind look in his eyes, but Violet felt her entire body run cold.

“Yes.” It did bring back memories, the sensation of leg warmers and sitting on hard dance floors, of chewy protein bars and being soaked in sweat, of the unbelievable satisfaction when a move was finally executed just right and she could collapse in exhaustion. “But how-”

“Did I know?” Sutan put his fork down, clearly beyond pleased with himself.

“Yes.”

Violet hadn’t told anyone in her new life that her first career had been as a dancer at the New York City Ballet, that she had been a soloist on the track for principal before her life had changed forever at 17.

“I’m a modeling agent, lovely eyes.” Sutan took his coffee cup. “I can spot a dancer from a mile away, and everything about your posture tells me that you have done ballet at some point.”

“Ah.” Violet nodded, a rush of relief coursing through her. Sutan didn’t know, hadn’t truly guessed who she used to be. “You got me.”

“What can I say,” Sutan grinned, putting his cup to his lips. “I’m the best.”

She’d tell him one day, tell him her entire story, but that day wasn’t going to be today.

***

When Violet had first started in design, she had wondered why they had several couches scattered around the room. It had started to make sense as she had seen just how social her new coworkers were, the furniture often taken up by people talking, working or even napping.

Violet had never used the couches before today, her desk and her desk chair all she needed, but while Trixie was upstairs for the  department head meeting discussing the Spring line, she had figured that it was time to test out if Trixie was actually serious about wanting them to relax.

Which was why she was on the couch, attempting to pass the time while she waited anxiously for Trixie to return.

It felt incredibly weird not to be in the boardroom, to not be standing against the wall taking notes as Fame and Raja presented the new concepts for the collections, Violet’s spine itching with annoyance over the fact that she wasn’t there.

She had considered texting Courtney, but she wasn’t sure Courtney could actually tell her anything interesting, the blonde incredibly talented at hearing but not listening, so instead, Violet had brought her backlog of magazines with her to work.

Violet had started collecting fashion magazines at 17. At first, she had only read American Vogue, but as she had started to get more and more into fashion, her monthly collection had started to grow.

Now, she bought American Vogue, British Vogue, French Vogue, Italian Vogue, Marie Claire, Harper's Bazaar and French and American Elle, her preferred newsstand knowing her by sight.

Violet knew that she could look online for fashion inspiration, knew that it was what everyone around her did, but she had always preferred either print or watching the real people of New York walk by.

Violet wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but as she flipped through the pages, she knew she’d find it sooner or later, at least one of the spots in the Spring collection belonging to her, even if she had to fight for it. Violet almost rolled her eyes as she revealed yet another page of british street style, the fabrics and cuts absolutely horrendous.

Every time the door opened, she would sit up straighter, thinking it was Trixie back with news. After 3 or 4 excruciating false alarms, he finally returned, smiling at the designers, knowing they were all on pins and needles at this point.

“Attention Team! This is not a drill!” Trixie joked. “Everyone meet me in the conference room in 5 minutes for an update on the Spring collection!”

Violet stood up immediately, hurrying directly to the conference room with her notebook, excited to hear the news. Trixie was busy sticking a handful of reference photos onto the whiteboard: A ceramic cup, an egret, a skyline of what looked to be a coastal village somewhere in Turkey, a wheat field at sunrise, a collection of fabric samples stapled together into little booklets the designers could take with them to their desks.

Apparently, this year, Fame wanted a light and breezy Spring collection. Functional and elegant with a touch of whimsy. The color palette was true Galactica: dove grey, cream, straw, ivory flecked with gold, very sparing accents of delicate pink and dusty lilac.

Violet’s mind raced with ideas of ways to manipulate silk so that it rustled and and fluttered beautifully on the runway. Of clean, beautiful lines: crisp linens and soft, feathery edges. Her fingers itched with excitement to get started as she carefully wrote down their deadlines: Thursday to turn in sketches for the in-store prêt-à-porter collection, and the following Thursday for the opening and closing runway pieces.

She knew, of course, that Alexis, Jovan, Gia, April and Maxwell had guaranteed spots in the collection, that group of designers the defining factors in the current Galactica style. She was also well aware that as a new designer, she would be doing foundation pieces.

She would be expected to pay her dues and make sure her collection pieces supported whatever final direction the senior staff chose, but Violet had never been a settler, and she was going to give being in the collection her best shot.

***

Adore sighed happily, swaying to the pounding bass of the house music, surrounded by a sea of sweaty club goers. She and her band had just played an electrifying late-night gig and she was still high on the adrenaline.

She loved being out, loved showing people why her and her band were the next big thing, but the best part of the night was that Pearl was there, had been right there in the front of the crowd cheering her on.

“Hey…” Aja came up to her, a look of concern creasing their brow, Aja’s outfit for the night a light blue latex number.

“What’s up, baby?” Adore asked, pressing a kiss to Aja’s cheek, wrapping her arms around their waist. They’d known each other since Adore first moved to New York to live with Bianca, almost 10 years ago, had been classmates at the performing arts high school along with the rest of her bandmates.

“Uh, it’s just… Dahlia is being a bit of a thot and Pearl looks… Into it…” Aja bit their lip.

Adore turned to look where Aja was gesturing, saw her friend and bass player sitting perched on a stool, back arched, plaid shirt almost entirely unbuttoned and slipping off one shoulder. Pearl stood close to her… Maybe a little closer than needed, a beer in her hand as she chatted her up. There was a bored, almost challenging look on Dahlia’s face as Pearl spoke, and the whole thing set Adore’s teeth on edge.

“Well…” Adore swallowed, fighting her impulse to march over and pull them apart, fixing a nonchalant expression on her face as she turned back to Aja, “They’re both big flirts. So what?”

“So, I don’t know if I’d be cool with it. I’m shocked you are.”

“There’s no reason for me to be a jealous bitch. I knew that Pearl was like that when we got together, so how could expect her to change? And anyway, she’s coming home with me, not Dahlia,” Adore said.

“You sure about that?” Aja asked.

Adore’s eyes narrowed, shooting a nasty look at her long-time friend, who laughed.

“Alright, alright. I didn’t realize that you were so chill.”

“I’m the chillest,” Adore said, taking a sip of her cocktail. But whether she was trying to convince herself or Aja, she wasn’t totally sure.

*

“So can I buy you a drink?”

“You can fuck off,” came the sneering reply.

“Oof,” Pearl smiled, resting her head on her hand, her elbow placed on the bar. “Kitty got claws. What got you in such a mood?”

“The company.”

There was something strangely familiar about Dahlia, but Pearl was 99% sure she hadn’t had sex with her before. She’d given up trying to place her, instead just enjoying her ice queen vibe. “I don’t think you mind my company all.”

“Don’t I?” Dahlia raised an eyebrow, her plump lips pursed, her beautiful face the picture of disinterest, but Pearl had caught her eyes flickering to her arm, had seen her notice exactly how strong Pearl was in the places where it was needed.

“I know women.”

Dahlia was hot as sin, everything about her soft and delicate, her dark hair styled in careful silky curls, the freckles on her shoulder the most delicious tease, the garterbelt that poked out from under her denim shorts promising Pearl that she’d find mouth-watering lingerie underneath Dahlia’s clothes if she ever got that far.

“I’m sure you do.”

“I could show you?”

“No.”

Pearl had to bite her lip to swallow a moan. There was something about her hyper femininity, something about how she was just a little bit mean, Dahlia radiating a promise of pink pillows, cherry chapstick and fruit scented shampoo that Pearl hadn’t even realized she was missing so fiercely it made her nipples tighten.

“Also,” Dahlia looked over her shoulder. “Your girlfriend is right over there.”

Shit.

***

Violet walked out of the elevator, a cup of steaming hot coffee and a banana in her hand. It was a little after 8--security had finally realized that her company card opened every door and locked her out, but she could still make her way to the design floor without a hitch.

Violet had come directly from the gym, her hair in a ponytail and still damp from her shower, the shoes on her feet running shoes instead of the heels she normally wore. She’d had this routine for awhile now--getting to the office early to do her makeup and hair in the big, clean Galactica bathrooms where, unlike the gym, she didn’t have to fight for mirror space, smile at strangers, or pretend to be interested in small talk. She’d have time to finish her routine and settle in to work just as the other designers began trickling in.

Today though, as she opened the big double doors to the design department, she was surprised at the sight that met her. It wasn’t one lone designer who’d arrived earlier than normal, or two people finishing a project, but rather, at least five of her colleagues sitting at their desks, busily working away already.

Violet had no idea why they were there, seeing so many of her coworkers this early honestly shocking. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they had noticed her, so she made a beeline for the bathroom, vowing to herself that she’d get fully ready before coming into the office from now on, the risk of her coworkers seeing her as anything less than perfectly put together not one she was willing to take yet.

***

Maxwell stood by the printer, waiting for the sketches he had done on his iPad to come out. For years now, he’d been almost solely responsible for all of the business separates in the Galactica line, and it suited him just fine.

Over the years, he’d perfected the kind of crisply tailored and yet graceful and feminine lines that Miss Fame preferred, which had earned him her favor again and again and again.

When he’d seen the inspiration for the Spring collection, he was immediately flooded with ideas, and after almost 2 days of working, he was quite pleased with the sheer volume and range of choices he was going to present at the meeting, already imagining the pleased nod he’d get from the head of the company.

Violet appeared in the little printing alcove, doing a jump of surprise when she saw someone else in there. “Max, hi-”

“Sorry to scare you,” Maxwell smiled. “My job’s almost done,”

“Thanks,” Violet said, taking a step in, their elbow almost bumping against each other as she snug a peak at the printer. “Wow,” Violet turned her head, looking at Maxwell. “Are these your sketches? There’s so many already.”

“Well, you know Fame and Raja. They like to have options. ” Maxwell grinned, knowing that if anyone did know, it’d be Violet. “My technique with prêt-à-porter is to give them as many choices as possible, with lots of variation. Kind of ‘throw all the spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks’ approach, you know?”

Violet nodded, a very serious expression on her face as she listened.

“I started with a bunch of different suit options, and then I’ll use these to whip up all the other coordinating separates.”

“I just can’t believe that you’ve done so many in only 2 days,” Violet said, looking quite uncertain.

“You’re pretty fast yourself, so I wouldn’t worry.” Maxwell picked his sketches up. “Are you working on any for this week, or straight for the couture spots?”

“Yes.” Violet moved up, pressing on the printer to make it spit out her own sketches before she apparently realized that just yes wasn’t actually an answer to his question. “Prêt-à-porter isn’t my strength-“ Violet bit her lip, “But I’m not a one trick pony, and I want to play ball.”

“My advice? Be ambitious. This isn’t the time to hold back,” Maxwell said, smiling kindly. In spite of his initial reservations, he’d found himself quite charmed by the newest designer. And if he could help her get a leg up, he definitely wanted to do that, adding, “Let me know if you want me to review anything before Thursday!”

“Thanks,” Violet smiled. “I appreciate that.”

***

Courtney rushed down the street in the chilly air, in a desperate hurry to get to Broadway Dance Center in time for her class to start.

She hadn’t really given her personal dreams much thought since beginning at Galactica. But recently, when Adore was telling her all about a series of gig she’d gotten--ones Courtney couldn’t attend because they were all super late at night, mid-week, and all the way in Brooklyn--a rush of envy over Adore’s ability to focus on her music completely had overtaken her, immediately followed by guilt over such an ugly emotion.

Just because Adore had someone supporting her didn’t give Courtney any excuse to be jealous of her friend’s good fortune. Maybe things would be harder for her--that didn’t mean that she shouldn’t try. Instead of worrying about what she didn’t have, she decided to instead look to Adore’s achievements as inspiration.

She’d found an 8 pm class, figuring that it was late enough not to interfere with her work responsibilities. After all, taking an hour for herself one evening a week seemed like the kind of thing she should be able to do without a problem, right?

However, today had been even crazier than usual, with the holiday collection now being finalized, the Spring collection underway, and Fame working on a deal to expand Galactica’s flagship stores in Europe. Fame herself hadn’t even left until just before 7.

Courtney had finally managed to get away, currently sprinting the 15 blocks to BDC--she’d even had the foresight to bring sneakers. If she was fast enough, there was a chance she’d make it in time for her class.

With less than 2 blocks to go, Courtney realized that her work phone was buzzing in her hand. She paused at the corner, trying to manifest some positive energy before she answered. This will be something small. Something I already took care of. This call will end with Miss Fame pleased and happy...

“Hello?”

“Why are the Berlin contracts not in my bag?” Fame demanded.

“You...wanted to take those home?” Courtney asked, though she already knew the answer. Why would Fame be calling her otherwise? She cringed at her own carelessness, stupidly assuming that she’d review them the next day at her meeting with Patrick.

Fame seemed to be just as annoyed with Courtney as she was with herself, sighing and saying, “Deliver them now. This stress is not good for my skin,” and then hanging up even before Courtney’s “Yes, Miss.”

Courtney stood on the corner for a few moments, catching her breath, before turning around and trudging back towards the Galactica offices, shoulders slumped in defeat.

So much for dance class.

[getreadytosmash]

][For Jen][ Almond Chocolate Coconut || Black Raspberry Cheesecake || Chubby Hubby || Cotton Candy Explosion || Death By Chocolate || Devil’s Food Chocolate || Ginger Crème Brûlée || Heartbreak Healer || Lemon-Lime Sorbet || Masque of the Raspberry Sorbet || Neapolitan || Orange Pineapple Whip || Phish Food || White Raspberry Truffle

@blind-mutant

Ice cream headcanons

Almond Chocolate Coconut: a touch headcanon. Jen often likes initiating contact! It's a big thing that helped when she was a kid and Bruce would come over, bruises and beaten from his father, and it helped even more as she got older and things got rougher. Physical contact is one of the best ways to help Jen calm down and out of everyone, she's most likely to hug you.

Black Raspberry Cheesecake: a sexuality and/or romanticism headcanon (romantic orientation, sexual orientation, etc). After becoming She-hulk, Jen is both more open and more reserved about who she dates and has sex with. Being big and green and gorgeous did so much for her and helped Jen in feeling more confident to go after what she wanted, but it's also come to a point where it's harder for Jen to form relationships over the whole "I'm She-hulk" thing and the longer lasting issues of gamma not always being perfect. She's found herself leaning more into the demiromantic side of things over the years.

Chubby Hubby: a body image/self esteem headcanon. Jen considers becoming She-hulk to be the best thing that's ever happened to her body tbh. It allowed her to transition in the most perfect way, it gave her fame and power and it took away any chance of being scared again when it came to any violence. She's hot, she's strong and the fact that she gets asked to be on magazine covers and signing autographs by some people really helps make her feel better than ever.

Cotton Candy Explosion: a childhood/child(ren) headcanon. As a kid, Jen was really set on being a dancer, mostly a ballerina. She quit the dream for being a lawyer instead when Bruce's mother was murdered. It seemed like a better cause to want to learn to help people, especially when Brian Banner was merely trialled for insanity rather than facing a murder charge.

Death By Chocolate: an indulgence/guilty pleasure headcanon. Jen likes those FANCY baths with the best smelling bombs and flowers, champagne and fruits/chocolates to nibble every Friday or every other Friday. She deserves it and everyone in the base knows to NEVER disturb Jen when she goes off for her Friday baths. Rick still has nightmares.

Devil’s Food Chocolate: a vice headcanon. I suppose wanting to BE She-hulk is a vice?? It was actually a big part in her early storyline where she was supposed to stay human when at work and she struggled so badly, as well as hulking out as soon as she got out of work. Jen kinda,,,never wants to be human again and this can cause some issues at certain points.

Ginger Crème Brûlée: a gender headcanon (gender identity, gender presentation, butch/femme, gender feels, etc). Jen was VERY feminine presenting as a child/teenager when she had begun her transitioning and had been worried over how others saw her and a lot of Jen's gender experience relied on how she was perceived by those around her and what women should have looked like. Being green did a BIG boost and at first, Jen was a Typical Summer Body Model,,,just 6'6 and green with big hair for a period of time before she started to find what SHE wanted in herself.

Now Jen is a lot more confident and happy in how she presents herself because all that matters is how she sees and what she feels like. That includes being 7'7-8'2, ripped and being happy to either wear a suit or dress to stun people with.

Heartbreak Healer: a sad/angsty romantic or queerplatonic headcanon. No one ever really stays with Jen as a hulk and part of that is from how hectic her life can be, her physical body and the fear that a good majority of people can't cope with the sheer stress of a media life AND a hero life. That, and Jen's immortal, who's going to be able to stay with her? Can she really keep on living and loving people when she knows that they'll all just leave her in some way?

Lemon-Lime Sorbet: a sexual/NC-17 headcanon (alt: a secret(s) h/c). Her libido is INSANE. Jen can go almost ten rounds and only needs five minutes before she's up for another round. It acts up if she hasn't got anything else to direct her energy towards, but sometimes Jen likes to let it build up purely for how good it feels to spend as long as she likes, especially if she wants to tease a partner and wear them out.

Masque of the Raspberry Sorbet: a fear/horror headcanon (alt: a costume(s)/facade(s) headcanon). She's scared of the cold because after coming back from death when she had been shot and other times, the cold reminds Jen of dying and how it felt, the fear that she might never go back and she's always going to be stuck in that hellish landscape, with Brian and shells of people she knew...best to keep Jen warm.

Neapolitan: an intimacy/vulnerability (or lack thereof) headcanon. Out of everyone in he hulkfam, Jen is the most willing to be vulnerable I'd say. And it's more important on the fact that she's had the most normal childhood out of everyone and KNOWS that vulnerability is important. She has a harder time herself with showing the same intimacy when it's bad, but she tries to get the people around her to be more open, especially since all she wants to do it try and help the people she loves.

Orange Pineapple Whip: a kinky headcanon (alt: an eccentricity h/c). Jen sometimes risks wearing lingerie under her clothes on days that she feels a little playful with a partner. There's more of a chance where she gets into a fight and maybe her clothes get a little ripped up and shows some of her lingerie, which...maybe Jen likes when she gets to see their cute faces when they flush at the sight of her underclothes.

Phish Food: a music headcanon. She can play the piano! It's faded somewhat over the years from lack of practice, but Jen can still do "Part of your world" just fine.

White Raspberry Truffle: a weakness headcanon. At the end of the day, it's always going to be Jen's own fear that makes her weak. She's scared of what people think of her for so long, scared of the cold, scared of death, scared of her family being hurt...Jen may be stronger than anything and sensational, but she's still scared that one day her power will run out and she'll be overtaken by her fear.

[spnwatch]

Season 2: The Rankings

Whew. Oh boy.

They were still puttering about in season 1 to an extent. But now? Now they’ve really hit their stride. This season was a veritable chocolate box of delights and I ate my way through it. The overall myth arc was kind of nonsensical, but that emotional throughline? Christ. Spn buries SO MUCH emotional complexity into its leads, and they cashed in every cent in that two part finale. It packs one hell of a punch. And yeah, okay, I knew the broad strokes, the twists and turns. It’s hard not to be spoilered for a season of tv that aired over a decade ago. But reader! It mattered not!! I. Still. Wept. That’s when you know it’s the good kush.  1.) 2x12: NIGHTSHIFTER. This one just snagged the top spot by merit of its sheer ambition. Supernatural often feels like a very empty universe to me, just two guys and one car drifting from place to place. Which is fine, it makes for compelling TV, but they totally flipped the script here and this episode really dazzles precisely because of that contrast. It’s a huge, cinematic episode, a metropolitan setting full of uncontrollable elements, and it’s great to see Sam and Dean so profoundly vulnerable. The outside world is pressing up against the windows. They have sniper dots trained on them! They are, literally and figuratively, out of their depth! We’re not in Kansas any more, baby. God, I haven’t even mentioned the supporting characters. The entire mandroid rant deserves an Emmy. Victor Henrickson’s entrance! Heist movie antics! Agh!  10/10  

2.) 2x07: THE USUAL SUSPECTS. Again this episode was a cut above precisely because it showed us what the brothers look like from the outside: sketchy as all hell. It’s so good when reality ensures, because it’s great to be reminded they lead objectively insane lives! Through Linda Blair’s eyes we get to see just how unknowable, feral and amoral they appear to the eyes of polite society. Put under a microscope like this, they’re scary guys! They’re just not socialised like normal people. They don’t really care about being arrested, or about the felonies. Getting arrested is an irritant above everything else. They’re still working the case from the inside. They’re professionals; excellent liars, and totally in sync with each other. The handwritten notes they pass, like delinquent school kids! A delight! The thrill lies in watching Blair slowly unwrap their strange logic, and unravel the mystery of both the brothers and the ghost. Ugh, what a great perspective shift. I’m 100% here for it. 10/10 

 3.) 2x09: CROATOAN. Ugh, this setting. Small Town Gothic, complete with eerie mist, hostile locals and creepy Stepford vibes. Sam really shone in this episode. He’s so soothing and giant, and it made his suffering at the end all the more devastaing. The real reason this episode ranks so highly is their conversation in the surgery. It just killed me. Dean’s sheer, bone-deep exhaustion, his admission that he’s tired of the life. Sam’s despair, because he knows Dean won’t leave. The performances were so steller. I can’t even really think too deeply about it because it makes me too crazy. 10/10  

 4.) 2x21: ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE: PART ONE. I loved this finale so much more than the finale in Season 1, LOL. It might just be because I’m more invested now, who knows. The opening of this episode is a piece of art: Boston playing on the car stereo, the rain, the small cafe, the lighting. Gorgeous. I love when they have to interact with ordinary people! It adds so much: texture, humour, personality! It draws things out of Sam and Dean that we just don’t see when they have each other to bounce off of. It was so good to see Ava and Andy again. “I just woke up in freakin’ Frontierland!” The gang’s all here, folks! This episode would rank higher, but recieves minus points for the long boring speech the demon gives Sam, and killing off the first gay in the show 0.2 seconds after her introduction. Anyway. The ending of course unzipped me; Dean cradling Sam’s dead body, muttering “It’s okay, it’s not even that bad.” The elation of their reunion, so devastaingly cut short! Sam, twenty two years old, bleeding out in the mud. The sheer, hopelessness of it all. The horror. My notes for the end of the episode simply read: “Dean oh Christ. Oh my God. Oh no.” It’s just one of those scenes that stay with you long after the credits start rolling. 9/10   

5.) 2x20: WHAT IS AND WHAT SHOULD NEVER BE. I never thought I could be so profoundly upset by watching a man happily mowing a lawn. Dean’s trauma over the loss of his mother has undercut the whole show up until this point, and here it bursts to the fore. What really got me was the simplicity of it all. Just a sit-down dinner, an engagement. A beer on the porch. Fuck, he deserves it. He deserves everything. All the performances were great, they really served to show there’s a whole life in these AU characters. The fact it wasn’t all perfect was bizarrely more devastating. AU Sam’s weird straight hair and dorky jacket sealed the deal for me, as did his baffled terror in the warehouse. But even here, with no training and no idea what’s happening, he gets into the Impala! Because that’s his brother! Because I’m a huge baby I had to remove points because of how upsetting I found Sam’s quiet hostility towards Dean, HA. But that’s really just a testament to how well-realised their dynamic has become by the second season. 9/10  

 6.) 2x15: TALL TALES. Every single thing Sam does in any of Dean’s memories. Also alien slowdance set to “Lady in Red.” Also Bobby breaking them up like they’re petulant children. Gold, all of it gold. 9/10 

 7.)  2x11: PLAYTHINGS. So I’m a slut for a cool setting, obviously. Turns out, Supernatural did The Haunting of Bly Manor fifteen years ago. The swimming pool! The attic! Creepy dolls! The weird little playground! This episode has it all! I loved the saga between the ghost sister and the old lady, which would honestly make a killer movie in its own right. But I’m digressing. The main star of this episode was, of course, Dean’s profound and escalating sexual insecurities. “Well, you are kinda butch. People probably think you’re overcompensating.” FATALITY. I would’ve placed this one higher but the weird incestuous undertones kinda squicked me out... however, I did think we were meant to be creeped out by it, which is more than I can say for some other uh. Instances. It was, after all, beautifully paralelled at the end with the two sisters reuniting in death. “I can’t leave here, and you can’t leave me.” SHUDDER. Also, honestly, can Sam have one (1) breakdown on his own without Dean’s own emotional baggage taking over? Older siblings, smh. 9/10

8.) 2x22: ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE: PART TWO. This one ranks lower than part one purely because I thought the yellow-eyed demon’s overall plot was kinda nonsensical, and I cared not for John’s weird deux ex machina moment. Like do you expect me to feel sorry for that bitch? I don’t! Anyway, that being said, let’s move on to Dean’s eyes in the junkyard when Bobby asks him, “do you have that low an opinion of yourself?” They’re so flat. So dead, like a shark’s. He doesn’t need to say anything back, because it’s all over his face. That non-expression says it all. This is the culmination of the emotional arc that began with his savage beatdown of the Impala in episode 2x02. To call it survivor’s guilt wouldn’t even begin to cover what Dean goes through this episode. It’s all in Ackles’ performance; in the the way he yells, “What am I supposed to do now, Sammy?” The complete claustrophobia of it all. There’s nothing for it but to make the deal. Dean’s been moving inexorably towards this moment for the entire season. 9/10   

 9.) 2x13: HOUSES OF THE HOLY. What a kooky little episode! Magic fingers! Sam’s costcutter seance purchases! The scooby-doo placemat he uses as a makeshift altar! I love him, your honour. Obviously this episode has a lot of *~dramatic irony~* in it because of the later seasons, but it stands alone as a total banger. I was so gutted for Sam when the "angel” was revealed. So many good little Sam moments to be found in this episode. His soft, quiet little revelation that he prays every day. His awkward, earnest explanation to the horrified priest! Dean gets some great moments chasing down the would-be rapist down those dark, snow-covered streets. His speech to Sam where he explains his lack of belief is brief, but it’s a total gut punch. Rounding it off with Knockin on Heaven’s Door was just the cherry on top. 9/10 

 10.) 2x14: BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN. Ahaha I love the way Dean acts whenever Sam’s psychic powers come up. He treats him like a rebellious teen, it’s so funny. “What’s going on with you, Sam? Smokin’, drinkin’?” As if Sam’s behaviour was a) at all under his control or b) anything Dean wouldn’t HIMSELF do. Dean’s just like, this isn’t how I raised you! Truly hysterical. The whole sequence between Meg!Sam and Jo was fantastic and horrible. Sam’s huge physique is never threatening, but it really was in that moment. The interplay between them was totally spine-tingling. Meg’s impression Sam slowly crumbling away over the course of the episode was so compelling and I’m sure it will be a really fun rewatch now I know the *twist*. 9/10  

Favourite lines this season: 

The way Sam says “black cat’s bone” in 2x08

“You’re not gonna go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?!” - Dean, 2x13

“Dean, this is a very serious investigation, we don’t have time for your blah blah blah blah.” - Sam (according to Dean), 2x15

“I’m fine, except for every single thing that’s happening.” - Ava, 2x21 

[halfwayinlight]

Title: Sunrise Rating: PG, maybe bordering into PG13 Fandom: Star Trek TNG Pairing: Will Riker/Deanna Troi

also for an partly inspired by suggestion from @cleverdistraction

Will Riker can’t help but notice, for the thousandth time, that Deanna always smells good. It’s not only that she’s female. He has to give it to women because they do tend to smell better. And it’s something more than fragrances or lotions. More than the sandalwood oil he once gave her. It’s not even some fragrance from Betazed.

There’s something that’s intrinsically her going all the way back to when they first met on her home world. Something that has lingered into the years on Enterprise together. And whatever it is, it’s intoxicating. He could spend his whole life trying to figure out what it is.

She talks to the fish in the aquarium in her quarters. Deanna knows her fish and can distinguish each of them from the others. Will knows that she named them after various characters from stories. They aren’t stories from Betazed. Because most of their stories are told telepathically, and the names don’t always have a spoken equivalent. Most of them are named things like Calamity Jane, Butch Cassidy, Bonnie & Clyde, Annie Oakley, Paul Bunyan, and Old Blue.

He’s also caught her talking to Picard’s fish, Livingston, in the Ready Room. He’s not really sure if the captain named the fish, or if Deanna named it.

Some time ago he even woke one morning to hear her chatting softly to her plants, the orchids in particular, as she watered them. It had been an early morning after a late night when they were both too overly tired to sleep. They had shared a few drinks, synthenol for him and hot chocolate for her, and fallen asleep on her couch somewhere past zero two hundred. Her voice was soft and lilting as she murmured encouragement to the temperamental flowers and ran her finger lightly over their leaves. It was downright cheerful for someone running on five hours of sleep.

Something inside his gut had turned into mush at the sight and sound. And she had frozen for a long moment. Suddenly reminded he was there and acutely aware that he was awake. Even in the dim light, he could see her neck flush. And she moved about the rest of her watering rounds that morning in silence while Will felt disappointed that she had stopped and tried to fake that he was asleep again.

She’s gentle and tender, and he’s the biggest sucker for Deanna Troi with kids. When Alexander was on board, he couldn’t fault Worf for being so drawn to her. Or fault Alexander for not minding spending time with Deanna. The younger children on board adore her, and more than once he’s needed to consult with her about something and inquired only to find she was in the learning centers and indulged himself.

Somewhere around the incident with Clara Sutter he realized that children open up to her for the same reason why adults do—because of her compassion and her candor. They light up around her and vie for her attention. She is willing to crawl into their world and see things from their perspective. They clamor after her, and more than once she’s been late to lunch or dinner with him because several refused to let her leave. Her patience with them and for their stories seems fathomless. She gives each one her undivided attention in turn. And their trust in her is the purest thing in any galaxy.

It occurs to him, time and again, how great a mother she would be. Still might be. And that little spark of hope hits, all the times he’s half wondered if they might have had a family. What could have been between them. What still might be someday. The mom she might be. The mom she was. And, in a way, still is. He’ll never forget her radiant smile when Pulaski nestled Ian into her arms. Or the resonant grief Ian left behind merely a day or so later.

Their bond at that time wasn’t what it had been. But he’d felt the resonant ache a room away for days and weeks. He’d had to pull her from duty because she wanted nothing more than to bury herself in work. But she needed to grieve. And she couldn’t lie to him about it because he felt the hurt like phantom limb pain.

She is private in grief. He let her have her space for the first day, but he came by at night to urge her to eat something. She picked at things for days. Even chocolate was hard to get down. Will spent more than one night on her couch, and sharing a bed and holding her in hopes she would sleep. A few times he found her curled in a chair and lost in her own thoughts. Sometimes asleep in her bed or the sounds of a bath running. It took time to ease back into Starfleet routine again. She slept with the little blanket they’d sent her back to her quarters with Ian bundled into. Slept with it for weeks at least. She still keeps it in the bottom drawer in her restroom. He found it once by accident when she had been released from sickbay after one incident or another and he was searching for her robe to make her more comfortable.

Her empathy can be her undoing in moments… but it is a truly a gift. She embodies it well. He and Geordi might have had a chuckle at Barclay’s supposed Goddess of Empathy. But Will knows how much Barclay missed. It’s not about emotion for its own sake. It’s about her acceptance of all emotions. Her willingness to be present with the crew in all feelings. To examine them and sort through them in a meaningful way.

Deanna Troi has challenged him and pushed him. He’s a better person, a better first officer, and a better man because of his various relationships with her. And she is his Imzadi in the deepest sense. The first to see all that he is as a person and accept it. Accept all of him, strengths and faults. And sometimes he’s still not sure how to process that.

She’s said things to him that no one else except a superior officer could get away with saying—and even not always something an officer should say to him. But even the hardest words to hear have not been untrue. Another of her gifts is seeing people for who they are. And sometimes letting them know she sees who they are even when they try to delude themselves. He’s had those moments.

He’ll always be grateful she saw the alleged mighty Kyle Riker for who he was. And so neatly disarmed the figurehead that had always loomed in Will’s mind. Parents are complicated, and she understands that as fully as he does.

Deanna Troi a deeply passionate person. The most passionate person he has ever met. And that’s probably saying a lot. Will has spent more than his fair share of time on Risa. The Risians know a lot about pleasure. But it’s not the same thing. With Deanna it’s more than the physical. There’s something intoxicating about her that he could spend his whole trying to unravel.

And right now he doesn’t want to unravel anything. Because she smells good in the middle of the night, wrapped around him like a Markonian vine. Her limbs are tangled with his, and she sleeps against him, almost wedged under him at times. Will worries vaguely that he’ll smush her. And when he first admitted this one night as he tried to shift her out a bit, she’d given him a small grin and kissed him gently and worked her way right back to where she was.

Other nights, she’s content to be spooned against him or sprawled half across his torso. He’ll contort into uncomfortable positions simply to hear that damn murmur of contentment she makes before she falls into deep sleep. Eventually his discomfort wakes her, and she’ll mumble an apology and gods, why didn’t he just tell her his leg had pins and needles before they’re both asleep again.

Deanna Troi is a blanket hog, especially in his quarters. Because he’s an Alaskan through and through and likes the crisp cold. But her blood runs warmer, and his favorite Betazoid hybrid is forever seeking warmth and her creature comforts of warming oils and her favorite sheets from the fibers grown in the Loneel Valley. And Will Riker considers himself lucky as hell to fall asleep like this, and he’ll give up more than half of his blanket to keep her warm. Because that drowsy smile he wakes up to is his favorite sunrise.