#didn't read all of it but. i liked it and will probably try to read the rest at some point | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bunnys-kisses · 15 hours ago

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Hi bunny, I'm obsessed with your writing, it's scratching a part of my brain I didn't know could be scratched. Anyway I love it and was wondering if any millionaire shortcake, s'mores, pots de crème and whatever's on the house could be served by Max Verstappen please?

Love <33

bakery menu!!

want to suggest your own order? then check out the menu! i've been slowly getting through the prompts! this has been a fun little one to write! and thank you, thank you for loving my writing. sometimes it's hard to put into my head that people read me work because it's just me in my room haha, so thank you!!

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family." + s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?" + pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo." + on the house: author's choice! (root beer: filming/recording) served by max vestappen (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, leclerc!reader, motorhome sex, rough sex, filming/recording, dirty talk, clothed sex

max looked at you from across the paddock, you were happily chatting with one of the mechanics. max knew you were taking engineering in school, after all racing was in your blood. you were the sister of charles leclerc, the only daughter out of four children.

and after a particularly rough weekend, max verstappen, wanted a little revenge. and while he was a little old for childish pranks towards charles. he was old enough to fuck the only leclerc daughter. as you ended up further through the paddock, your curious gaze was trying to find your brother max soon caught up with you.

a possessive arm got around your shoulder and you yelped. but then relaxed when it was just max. you exhaled deeply and smiled softly, an innocent kind of smile, "max! you scared me." you trusted max, you always did!

you had made the assumption in your head that max was going to shepherd you back to your brother. but, instead you were led further away from where he could possibly be. out of ferrari territory and right in red bull's. he guided you with a hand on the small of your back like a lover. his neck craned towards you as if he was going to kiss you.

"where's char, max?" you asked as you held the front of max's shirt. instead he just kissed you on the face.

"we'll wait in the red bull motorhome. you'll be safe there, treasure." he smiled at you. his voice soft, inviting. revenge coursed through him as he brought you up the steps of the home for the weekend.

his hands were on you a little more intimately once you got inside. you stumbled through the doorway and max pressed his clothed erection up against your behind, "the leclerc's pride and joy. the stray from the pack. you became an engineer and you made them proud. but if they saw you now." he flipped up the tennis skirt your wore and he was greeted with simple blue panties, "you'd be the greatest shame to your family." you were loved by your family and you always thought family was important. but, max's words burned in your minds and took nest in a deeper, darker part of you.

letting your brother's rival fuck the day lights out of you.

"max." you swallowed as he firmly grasped your throat. not enough to bruise but enough to keep you still.

"the accent gets you, doesn't it?" he asked lowly as he rubbed up against you. he thought he'd need to give you the princess treatment and give you a bed. but you quickly ended up over the couch. your blouse was unbuttoned and hung off your shoulders and your panties down your soft thighs.

if charles was a devil on the track, then you were the balance of light. an angel that max was going to ruin.

max admired your soaked cunt for a moment as he palmed himself through his jeans. he licked his lips, and said as he got behind you on the couch, "you look good like this. bent over for me. your little private school probably didn't teach you how to be a good slut. good thing i'm here, because i'll teach you everything."

you moaned as max teased your cunt with his fingers for a moment before he licked the wetness off of them. he undid his belt soon after and got his cock out of his pants. he knew he if he was a better man, he would have no grabbed his phone from his pocket and recorded him slotting his heavy cock into your needy little cunt.

he asked, "how does it feel?"

if a picture is worth a thousand words, then he could probably get a million dollars from the photo. the one he took of your cunt taking his cock beautifully. it made him lick his lips as he started to move against you.

his thrusts were strong and quickly he built up the pace. he was only encouraged by your slutty moans. you sounded like you loved cock. and who was max to deny you that. of course he'd fuck your sweet cunt with everything he got! and let filthy words tumble off his tongue as he worked your achy sex.

"i bet you were popular for all the wrong reason. not because of your smarts of your humor. no, you were popular because you gave it up so easily." max knew that wasn't true. you were notoriously monogamous, it was just words that scratched an itch. but don't worry you're little head, with the slice of heaven that max was feeling. he'd happily fuck you any day of the week.

you fueled his lust, simple as that. now it was your job to satisfy it. as his rough jeans rubbed against your behind with rough movements. he made you feel a pleasurable heat all over.

"i bet you knew exactly how to make the boys squirm. you have a pussy that could be called addictive. i was going to fuck you to blow off steam but now... i know why your brothers wanted you away from the track. you're not but a distraction."

you swallowed and felt the surge through your body. your pulse was quickened and your clothes stuck to your sweaty skin. you had no idea what max had planned for the future. you were his now. he wasn't going to give up having sex with you and let someone else have the chance. not lando, or lance, or anyone else. no one else could stake a claim while he was pushed inside of you.

you groaned through a tense jaw as he continued to hit against the right places. he made you shudder and squirm in all the right ways. you clutched onto the couch as he continued to fuck you with a quick thrusts that made you need more.

"fuck, more! please!" your noises were so sweet that max couldn't help but record them as he fucked you. he caught sight of how lovely, simply lovely, you took his cock. you fit perfectly against him.

you were just a little treat as he continued. he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"it feels good." you gasped as he fucked you. his pace was quick and near erratic. he fucked you with purpose and it left you seeing stars at every chance. he was obsessed with you and you needed him in return. you knew you were close, you heavily panted against the white leather of the couch while he crammed every inch inside of you. he made sure your sweet cunt was filled to the max with him. his cock hit against you and it made you whine for more.

"you feel amazing, fuck, your pussy is amazing." he shuddered and pushed you further up against the couch. your noises, he gripped onto your hips tightly and bounced you up against his cock.

with a few more thrusts, you arched your back. you came around his cock which only made him move faster. he worked his aching cock into you.

"fuck, max!" you yelped and grasped tightly. you felt the after shudders of orgasm. you sounded beautiful and let him just fuck you with a feverish pace.

max was close behind you. he finished inside of you soon after. a few more heavy thrusts and he was spent. he held onto your hips for a moment longer as he slowed to a stop. he kissed your clothed back and rocked against you a few more times before he pulled out. a beady strain of cum connected you two. just as he liked it.

"how was that?" he asked as he pulled out and got his cock back into his jeans. he felt good as he watched you try to collect yourself.

you replied through heavy pants, "really fucking good."

"there you are." you heard your brother's voice as you walked through the paddock with max close by. charles took you by the shoulders and away from max, "where did you go?"

you swallowed as you could feel max's cum against the cotton of your panties. you then chuckled as your brother pulled you in for a tight hug, "i think i just got lost. but! max was here to help me." you looked over to the other man.

charles smiled at his long time rival, "thanks, mate." he had zero clue what max did to you. your brother slapped you on the back lovingly, "let's get back towards our end so we can get ready for dinner." then gave max one last look before you both left.

max eyed your behind as you walked away. he wondered for a moment, which school did you go to and how easily could get there. <3

#bunny writes #the bakery #reader insert #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula one smut #formula one fanfiction #f1 smut #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen #mv33 smut #mv1 smut #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader #mv1 #mv33

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olderthannetfic · 3 days ago

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Ok. Dumb question incoming, but I'd much have a 'conversation' than try to read fanlore or watch video essays or something because I want to hear individual people's contributions.

Why Star Trek?

Don't get me wrong - I like the franchise! I'm not super duper familiar with it, but I do enjoy the bits and pieces that I do know. But I am wondering why that in particular is hailed as the grandmother of all fandoms? Obviously people were fannish before Trek, but I don't think anyone can deny the impact that OG Trekkies had on fic, zines, and eventually on the internet.

I know that it's always been popular and well-liked, but it's not as if there was NO SUCH THING as popular culture/fan culture before that (I mean, come on, the term "parasocial" predates the first Star Trek episode by 10 years!) . Was it just a perfect mix of timing + popularity + etc? Is there something in particular about ST that "hit different" than other series at the time? Or is the fandom really really just that mighty and it's almost "luck" in a way? I guess I'm wondering what particular dominoes cascaded in a line in order for Star Trek to have the impact on fandom that it does today.

or am I wrong? were there just-as-big fandoms before and I simply overhype Trekkie power in my head / happen to see more talk of that than I do of other fandoms? It could definitely be a social circle bias thing.

Ugh. Asking OTNF why Star Trek is so important to fandom history feels very much like asking a Russian History major why War & Peace is so important to literature - hence why I warned you that it'd be a dumb question! But I am just so damn curious what sort of crack was in early ST fandom that made it SO widespread and SO strong.

Like, I guess the TLDR is: what was particularly 'different' about Star Trek, either as a fandom or as a franchise or both, that made it Theeeeee OG fandom, rather than something, like, i dunno, LOTR or the earliest versions of Marvel/DC comics or General Hospital or something else like that?

I await the hordes of angry Man from U.N.C.L.E. fans eager to prove that they were first.

And, no, it wasn't that popular. Hence the aggressive Save Our Show campaign and explosion of fan culture when it ended after three seasons.

Part of the answer to your question is that there were like three things on TV at the time. What big fandoms? 'Parasocial' was about non-subculture people feeling warmly towards news anchors or hosts of variety shows or something, wasn't it?

LOTR got rediscovered in the 60s or 70s from what I hear, but science fiction and fantasy books were for fringe weirdoes. SFF was not mainstream for the most part. There are a bunch of History of Book SF Fandom things on Youtube, and you should consult them on the complex role of LOTR in that space. LOTR wasn't a mainstream thing until there were live action movies a billion years later.

The key about Star Trek is that it was a hit with the pre-existing book SF crowd. They were an organized subculture. Some of their favorite writers wrote episodes. Other shit on TV was for people who did not form subcultures in that way. Other shit for SF fans had an audience 1/10,00th the size.

MFU was insanely popular. Illya Kuryakin was the heartthrob of a certain era of girl and inspired many a Russian major. (Seriously, there are soooo many Russia-boos of a certain age who probably still have a poster of him somewhere.) The actor set a record for fanmail. The show may have more influence on fandom history than we think now, but it also didn't rerun the way Trek did, at least in some eras, and it didn't have sequel series in a franchise. I'm always finding 2015 movie fans shocked that there's a still extant and semi-active fandom—or even shocked that the movie is based on something.

Starsky & Hutch was also hugely important and is the moment slash fandom and "Media Fandom" really split from book SF fandom. As Trek fans moved on to buddy cops, they were into a completely mainstream show but in a non-mainstream way. Trek was an awkward bedfellow at SF cons, but S&H just didn't fit at all.

Of course, while Trek is the grandma of AO3 type fandom, don't forget that a shitton of modern fans who are doing "research" just look at the same few sources. Enterprising Women is great and all, but even other fans of the same stuff are like "Oh, that was just X's friends. Where's [thing] and [thing] and [thing]?" Ditto Textual Poachers and the other scant early sources that people think have academic weight.

While Trek would still be central, the picture of what was going on in the late 60s-early 80s would look a bit different if you just found a bunch of 70-something nerds and asked them than if you regurgitate other people's research, you know?

If you want an idea of what else was going on in SF fandom back in the day, check out Galactic Journey, where they roleplay that it's 55 years ago and review SF things "as they come out".

If you want to understand MFU, here's a vid of Illya:

youtube

What say you, readers?

What have acafandom and fandom history and meta left out?

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fishnapple · 22 hours ago

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Things people secretly find attractive about you

This reading is about the hidden thoughts of people, about what they secretly find attractive about you. This is entirely subjective, some of these can seem questionable or hard to understand but the human psyche is complex, the root of attraction can lie in unexpected places.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

ONE

Some of the people who find you attractive might have a saviour mentality and a serious personality, they gravitate towards someone who they think is in trouble, sad about life or is a little impractical. I'm not saying that you have these traits, but those people seem to pick up some of your behaviours as signs of these traits.

Some people perceive you as outspoken, you have no trouble saying what's on your mind, your words are direct and to the point, they carry force in them. This can seem aggressive to them. But this is not the kind of being attracted to something strong but more like being attracted to the hidden weakness behind that strong exterior. They think that behind your assertive demeanour is someone insecure, someone who hasn't found their footing in the world yet. They are attracted to that thought, the thought that you're trying to put up a front, trying to be brave. This makes them curious and want to see the insecurities that you're hiding, and to do what? They would want to guide you, they think you need someone to act as a teacher to you, someone you can look up to, and they want to be that person.

Your voice is also attractive to some ears, your choice of words is extensive and have a poetic touch to it. Or you don't talk much and some people find that attractive, they feel that you leave space for others to talk and express and you're not judgmental about it. Some will like having deep philosophical discussions with you. You also have different and unique hobbies and whenever you talk about them, you seem so animated and excited, an intense passion can be felt, and that makes people gravitate towards you like moth to flame.

Some people also feel that you can be quite naive or impractical sometimes, they find this endearing, like seeing someone being protected from the harsh reality of this world. They might project a part of themselves on you. Some of them could have experienced a difficult childhood that didn't give much space for them to be carefree or feel protected. So they look at you and see these traits that remind them of a distant longing for a better childhood.

The idea of being in a relationship with you will seem easy and natural. It's easy to imagine themselves taking care of you and having your attention to themselves. Your attention and affection are elusive and people want to catch a hold of these. Some will want to quickly jump in a connection with you, it would get intense very fast and burn quickly, attraction at first sight is very likely, this is not just about romantic attraction but also includes platonic attraction.

TWO

I think people would immediately feel a sense of power coming from you, much like how our skin warming up when we are around a fire. This kind of powerful energy is dynamic, all-encompassing, intense, generous and bountiful. This attraction that people have towards you is not that secretive, some might feel reluctant to show it or talk about it openly because they feel respectful towards you, they can feel a little intimidated and will just silently watch you, occasionally drop a few compliments when they are feeling brave enough. You know how sometimes people see someone so amazing and awesome but keep their distance and not express appreciation for them, for fear of stating the obvious, they would think that this person probably gets a lot of compliments everyday already so they won't be bothered with them? Some people are like that towards you.

Some people will quietly admire your daring and sometimes reckless spirit, the word daredevil comes to mind, with it comes the attitude of an adventurer. You are so brave and explosive, always ready to explore new horizons, always know how to have fun. Timid and quiet people might secretly find these traits so attractive about you but also feel that you are a little dangerous or too forceful for them. It's not physical violence but it's the speed of you doing things, the energy you put in every action, they feel like they can't quite keep up with that. But it's sexy to them. It's intense and it can bring both order and chaos to wherever you go. This energy is like electricity, it can evoke wild reactions in people.

You smile and laugh a lot? People find your smile and the sound of your laughter attractive, it's warm and contagious. You don't just laugh a lot, you also make people laugh a lot, they like your humour, it's carefree, jovial, sometimes it comes as exaggerated boasting, sometimes it's ridiculous, sometimes it's so humble. It shows a healthy ego with enough boundaries and respect. They can see your humbleness as a sign of strength, you're so confident in yourself and so strong that you allow yourself to be soft and be a fool to elevate people's spirits.

Others will be secretly attracted to your intelligence and wisdom. You seem like someone whom they can look up to and learn from. Younger people really like you, they see you as a role model, someone who knows their own path and is dedicated to it. Some will assume you're really successful and have it all. They wonder if you have an inner calling, a spiritual belief that guides your life, because you seem to abide to a certain rules, some strict regimes and they're curious about it.

THREE

The word "wholesome" just immediately came to my mind. You have a very stable aura that makes people think you have your life all figured out. They might even think that your life is so different from them, so trouble-free, peaceful or exciting, anything but similar to theirs. But that doesn't alienate you from people, they actually like this about you. Like how cat videos restore faith in the world for some people. When they see your life, they get inspired to strive to do good with their life.

Your energy is both fast and slow, steady but active. You have no trouble standing your ground, putting down your foot. You can be very cautious and deliberate when investing in something, whether with your energy, your time, your resources, your emotions. But when you see the chance, the most effective path opening, you don't hesitate to take the action, almost like you have an angel or a wise counsellor behind your back who will give you encouragement to go forward. You are not a reckless gambler but a wise one.

Some people feel very safe and secure when they are around you, you feel like a teddy bear, a shelter to them. Because you are generous when you've decided that someone is worthy of your effort. You don't do things half-heartedly, your determination and devotion are very attractive in people's eyes. This can also mean that some people are quite dependent on you, emotionally, and they hate to admit it, I sense that some of them are quite proud and independent, so the notion that they're dependent on someone does not sit well with them.

You also have an amicable energy, people can sense that you won't get angry easily, you don't take out your ego and wave it at their faces. You talk only when it's necessary and don't demand attention. You seem like a humble person who doesn't complain when things get hard and just focus on solving the problem without expecting applause and praises. People who have a more dominant and fiery personality might find this attractive, as opposites attract. Some can view this as you can be ordered and are obedient, which boosts their ego a lot.

While some people wonder, if you truly are that humble or you're just good at hiding your desires and drives, they might think that you have something to hide, you're not comfortable showing your true self and just go along with what others deem good and nice. Would there be another person who is wild, ambitious and fierce behind your gentle image? Some might want to poke, to push you to see a more aggressive reaction from you. Another kind of people can view this energy as you being detached and aloof, like you don't have the time or energy to care. They secretly find this "unavailability" attractive, it shows you have standards and act accordingly to your own rules and set of beliefs. You seem to elicit a wide variety of opinions from people. If all of them were to have a meeting and voice their thoughts about you, it would make a long list. But they all will have to agree that you are unshakable from your resolution once you set your eyes on a goal.

FOUR

This group is a little similar to the previous group, both have strong earth energy with a hidden element. But your group is more youthful, the energy, at first glance, is softer and more playful. The similarity of the two groups is that people perceive you to be in alignment with your soul's desire. You seem to be living a full life. People look at you and feel the liveliness, the joy of living. Like a child beginning to step out to the world, who hasn't been disillusioned by the ugliness of reality yet. People secretly think you are naive and innocent, a little erratic or unpredictable, but you're not lost, you know where you are going, with a purpose, like a ship heading towards the lighthouse. You make people feel like they should act benevolent to you, because you deserve that treatment. To the people who already have children, you sometimes remind them of their own child, subconsciously. They would want to protect you and see you bloom and prosper.

You have an oblivious attitude towards worldly achievements that people secretly wish they can adopt it themselves. You focus on your self development but you don't put too much weight into being conventionally successful like having a good career, earning lots of money, being famous, almost like you're tired of that. Maybe you're well-known to a certainly extent in a community and some people can be a little envious of that, they may wonder how can you garner attention so easily like that, even when you don't do much, aren't active or just keep to yourself, but fame still finds you.

Your appearance shows that you're taking good care of yourself. You have a neat and simple style that people like. It suits your perceived manner, mild and stable. You notice little details and create a pleasant atmosphere and environment around you. Some people who work with you find these traits really attractive, they could develop a quiet crush for you.

You could have some small obsessions that people who are observant enough will notice. They intuitively sense that you are trying to establish a certain order in your life, a certain routine to balance out the inner emotional turmoil. It's like a storm is raging outside so you try to focus on organising the house to feel safe and distract yourself from the storm. This will attract people, some people are just really attracted to emotional depth and complexity. The more contradicting a person act, hinting a hidden landscape underneath, the more they are attracted.

You can be quite serious when it come to learning, this is where your determination shows itself the most. Teaching you is a delight, but can also come with heavy pressure, you don't want superficial knowledge, you want to go to the depth of things, analysing then committing the information into your memory. This, in turn, can also make you an excellent teacher, but you can be a little stern, surprisingly. You can seem young, but in some areas, you are so serious and committed, you seem like a wise old soul.

FIVE

I pulled only 3 Tarot cards for the previous groups, but your group demanded another one, apparently so many people have so many different opinions about you.

Your energy seems so red and fiery, like a burning fire. There are lots of moths flocking to your flame. They know they would "die", but they just can't help it. I can see that you have a lot of admirers, the majority of them are secret admirers though. There's something about your energy that makes people turn inward and become a lot more quiet and introverted than they normally are. They're contented to just keep a distance and admire you from a far. Have you ever see the process of an artist making their artwork? They are so focused in their own world, they emit an intense aura that keep the audience quiet and holding their breath, the people around them don't dare to disturb that creative process. Some people feel like that with you. You have a creative energy that can touch people, it's both very vulnerable but also strong, something that just is, without external shielding or masking.

People view you as someone who loves fearlessly, you have a reverence for love that borders on a religious feeling. It makes them question themselves, how can a human live so confidently like that, can they live like that too? is their life has a different meaning that they haven't thought of before? You are an inspiration to people, your flame is contagious, it spreads wherever it goes.

Those that are brave enough to approach you will like to talk and debate with you, you have a way to show your views clearly without eclipsing others. They admire your courage to defend your worldview and advocate for good courses. You might have a knack for rallying people, persuading people. People can easily be swept along your passionate energy.

Some believe that you have what it takes to be successful in this world. You have the talents, you have the will, and luck seems to follow you with each step you take. The phrase "Fortune favours the bold" can't be anymore apt than this. You have a balanced feminine and masculine energy that can attract people of different genders. To the world, when you need to accomplish something, you have no problem with exerting will power and strategies, to those close to you, you also hold a nurturing space for them. Some might perceive you as a good parental figure. Some will automatically assume that you're successful and rich, or you have someone backing you up. I will be honest, they're attracted to your abundance, the more lack they feel, the more attracted they are to you.

SIX

I wouldn't say you are shy or quiet, but you're reserved and just want to mind your own business. Your energy feels a little awkward and some people can notice that. Again, it's not exactly because of shyness, but more like a reluctance to come out of your own world. You might be a home-body or someone who prefer their private space a lot. If you can, you just want to stay in one place and live quietly, contentedly, but alas, you have to go out and interact with the world, and I do see some life circumstances that would force you to be out, to be more visible to the world. If you are a leader or someone with authority in the workplace, you will be a reluctant leader, but a good one nevertheless. This makes you seem more down to earth and relatable to many people.

You're resistant to disturbances and chaos. You want simple things, things that are essential for a good and tranquil life. A fresh meal, a walk on the beach, tea time with friends maybe enough to make you happy and feel fulfilled, also a heavy pocket full of money to prepare for rainy days. You're risk adverse, that's why you're always well prepared, stable and can shoulder lots of burdens. People can't help but feel peaceful and safe around you, they feel protected. That is, if they managed to get in your inner circle. You're selective of whom you interact and associate with. People like this pickiness of yours, it makes them feel privileged to be selected. You're picky but you're not stingy or haughty, everyone can still see that you're friendly and open enough.

As much as you always try to stay out of chaos, chaos seems to like you and follow you around. Some bizarre and unexpected events might happen that are totally out of your control. You life is somehow attached to invisible strings that pull and lead you to some pretty interesting experiences. Usually these experiences can bring positive changes into your life, if you're open to them. Those who witness these events will find them oddly fascinating. Magic seems to be real around you. You may have a strong manifesting power, whether you're conscious of them or not. You can literally create your reality through your power of imagination and words. So be mindful of what you are thinking and imagining.

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cringefail-loser · 3 days ago

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you are completely missing the point of the original tweet. She is not mad that there aren't other women in the dressing room, she's mad that she's not being treated the same as the other women in the dressing room. You have no proof that she's "getting off" to trying on bras or to being treated like a cis woman. It's very very clear that she simply wants to try on a bra, an experience that most cis girls get to have at a young age.

"[She] could’ve ordered online. It takes 30 seconds to measure yourself.

If you have breasts, you know how hard it is to order a well-fitting bra online. You usually have to buy a couple in a few different sizes, just to find the right one. It's not an easy process! My chest is on the smaller side, and it's still difficult to find the right one. Also, not to mention the experience that comes with bra-shopping in person! It's fun to go to the store and look at all the bras and find the right one for you that comes in your size and is in your favourite colour.

"Real women don't get upset that there's no one else in the Victoria's Secret changing rooms."

If you read the tweet, you'd notice that the woman who made it had to wait for the staff to remove all the women from the changing room. It's not like there just so happened to be no other women in the dressing room, they quite literally isolated her from the other women. Also, I'm sure that if you were forced to be away from the rest of the women in the changing room for no apparent reason, you would get upset too.

"I mean can you even imagine how fucking awkward that situation was for the women [she’s] sexually harassing and [she] doesn’t ever stop and go what the fuck am I doing?"

Oh I'm sure she knew how awkward it was. Imagine being ostracized for that, being called out for being trans in front of a bunch of people who probably didn't care in the first place. This same situation could happen just the same to a cis woman with a deep voice and a more masculine facial shape and build. You all would complain about how misogynistic it is for the VS staff to treat a woman like that. And you know what? It was already misogynistic! This trans woman could have just as likely been a cis woman with masculine features, and the staff had decided to separate her from everyone else just because of her features. THEY QUITE LITERALLY ASSUMED SHE WAS A TRANS WOMAN JUST BECAUSE OF NON-FEMININE FEATURES.

"Also as usual how does [she] know those women are 'cis'?"

You're right! She has no proof that these women in the changing rooms are cis women. But neither did the staff. As said previously, they just decided that she's trans, simply because she "looked like it". You terfs are always the ones to say "we can always tell", but here you are admitting that you can't just always tell. You ADMITTED that some trans women look like how society expects cis women to look.

"Maybe they just thought [she] was your run of the mill male predator?"

If they genuinely thought that, they probably would have kicked her out for being "creepy". But that didn't happen. They understood that she was there just to shop for a bra, but didn't want to let her in for whatever reason. (Most likely transphobia, but y'all always write that off as something that's not real, so I'm not even going to bother entertaining that idea.)

Non-Tumblr users weren't kidding when they said that you all have piss-poor reading comprehension.

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leclarifies · 1 day ago

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THE NUMBER YOU HAVE DIALED IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE (LN4)

✰ lando norris x ex!reader ✰

summary → in which lando keeps dialing your number even after you've changed it.

genre → angst (im not sorry)

word count → 2.1k

author's note → remember how i broke ur hearts with carlos sainz angst for my first fic about him? YEAH HERE'S THE LANDO VERSION!!!!!!!! i know yall love it either way so, enjoy reading! very short btw, i just wanted to put something out for today

"where did we go wrong? i know we started out all right. where did we go wrong? i swear i knew we'd last this time." - lany, "13"

it takes three rings.

then he hears that stupid automated voice again, "the number you have dialed is currently unavailable or disconnected, please try—"

"for fuck's sake."

after he ends the attempted call, the furious typing is apparent in the empty, dark room. the artificial keyboard clicking fills the room as he tries his best to reach her. it's futile really, with every text he sends, the more agitated he becomes.

he knew that he shouldn't do this, that she was probably trying her best to move on, but he couldn't. he couldn't let her slip away from his grasp so easily.

"i just want you here for my races, is that so hard to ask for?" lando sounded desperate, he was desperate. he was a guy who needed his girlfriend and it didn't help that his girlfriend couldn't be there with him when he needed it the most, especially at times like these.

she was tired, he could tell, he didn't want to turn this into an argument but he was going to base it off of how she was going to respond, "lando, i can't. you know this. i have family here that i need to support, i can't just quit—"

"i'm not asking you to quit, i'm asking you to come just when you can," lando ruffled his hair so hard that it hurt, "the races are on weekends— for fuck's sake! why can't you just listen to me and actually hear what i'm saying?"

"i am listening! you're not listening to me!" she had tears in her eyes now, he hated it. he hated when he got riled up like this. it wasn't her fault, he knew it but he wanted her around him at least every few races, he hadn't been able to see her on the paddock at all this year and it pained him.

an exasperated sigh leaves his lips and he tries calling again, he knows she's not gonna pick up. he knows that he's probably blocked everywhere, but he wants to try. he wants to talk. he just wanted to fix things.

"the number you have dialed is—"

the next thing he heard was his phone shattering against the wall after he threw it across the room.

it was only two days later when he got a new phone and tried again, it wasn't going to go through. he knew it, but he just wanted to try. he wanted to show her that he was willing to make a compromise with her, just to make sure that she was there for him.

he didn't understand why he raised his voice so easily when it came to her, maybe because emotions ran high and he didn't know what else to do to express himself. he didn't know. all he knew was that he was a selfish prick and he deserved all of this.

he tried again.

"the number you have dialed is cu—"

he wanted to smash that brand new phone into the wall like its predecessor but he held himself back, he knew that the money that was needed to buy him a new phone was priceless to him, he was a formula one driver. it was pennies to him. all that money and he couldn't keep the most priceless thing to him, her.

he didn't care how selfish it sounded, or how convoluted their issues were. he just wanted her here, to hug, to kiss, to just comfort him. he had so many things on his mind right now and it could've been solved just by a simple touch and kiss to the forehead.

he was losing his mind and he knew it.

something akin to a sob bubbles from his throat when he hears the automated voice again.

"the number you have dialed is currently unavailable or disconnected, please try again later."

he fucked up, he knows now. she didn't have to rub it in his face like this, by changing her number and disappearing off of the face of the earth.

he just wanted to be home.

gentle knocking wakes her up from her slumber, it's unusual to get guests at this hour and on top of that, she wasn't expecting anyone. a huff escapes her lips as she gently takes the covers off of her and sits up on the bed. the knocks become more persistent as she begrudgingly gets up from her comfortable bed.

at first, she contemplates whether she should open the door or not but she opens it against her better judgement, her eyes widening when she realizes who it was.

"lando, what are you doing here? aren't you supposed to be in aus—"

she gets engulfed in a hug before she could even utter another word.

inhaling her scent after so long had been a breath of a fresh air for lando, he missed her. she's confused on how lando even knows where she lived. she had moved out of her last flat to avoid him on purpose, and now he's here, when he's supposed to be all the way in australia getting ready for a race.

his hug wasn't reciprocated, unfortunately for him.

"lando—" she was cut off by her ex standing in front of her, his eyes were glassy, puffy, like he had been crying all the way from australia to here.

"i just wanted to see you, that's all."

"we broke up two months ago, you can't just show up in front of my flat like this."

"i know but—"

"there aren't any buts lando, didn't me changing my number make it clear to you?" she folded her arms in front of her chest, her hair was still a mess from sleep and she was in pajamas, but her eyes were nowhere near his, not wanting to have any type of eye contact.

lando could only look down on the ground in embarrassment, he knew it was wrong. he knew he shouldn't have asked her friends where she lived, all of them had turned down his questions, telling him that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore but it wasn't anything a little persistence couldn't solve.

"is that all? you have a race to catch," she didn't even give him the chance to speak before trying to close the door on his face, but he blocked it with his foot, he wanted to talk. to fix things. he knew that things were irreparable but he wanted to try.

lando pushes the door open, despite her insistence of not letting him in, "i want to fix things, love—"

"there's nothing to fix lando, we're done. we've been done. what part of done do you not understand?" she was on the verge of tears, she didn't want to end it with lando, no, not at all but she felt that it was best for the both of them, she couldn't provide him with what he needed and he couldn't with her either, so it was best to just separate because why be in a relationship when you don't feel the love?

her eyes were still on the floor, not even daring to look up at lando's. it hurt for her too of course, just throwing away their year-long relationship out the window when the beginning of their relationship was so lovely, but now all there was is resentment and she didn't want that in her relationship.

lando couldn't utter anything out his mouth, he was stuck in place by her words. he let himself in earlier after he pushed the door open, he gently closed the door behind him before sighing, "we didn't even talk about it, you just decided for yourself that you didn't want to be apart of this anymore, you didn't even wait until my race ended before i could respond. how can i let it go?"

she swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked out the window, still refusing to look at lando, because she knew that if she did, she would start crying, "you just do lando. sometimes break-ups aren't always mutual, sometimes it's one person who doesn't want to be in a relationship anymore. it takes two to tango."

lando tousled with his hair, what could he say to that? she wasn't wrong. she couldn't deny the hurt and sadness that was in his green eyes, she hated that she made him feel that way but they were nothing. they've been broken up. by definition, they didn't have anything to do with eachother anymore, but she still had that care inside of her heart for him. after all, it had only been two months.

"just hear me out, and by the end of tonight, if you don't want to see me anymore, i'm gone. i won't try to contact you anymore," lando gave an ultimatum and she was fine with that, because she knew well that whatever he said, she would still say no.

she sat down on her couch, patting the space next to her to at least give him some sort of hospitality, wanting to hear him out even though she was steadfast in her decision.

"i won't bug you to come to my races anymore, i'll even help you with helping your family—"

"you can't throw money at this problem, lando."

"i'm not throwing money at it, i'm just saying that it's an option and you can take it if you feel like you need it," lando's voice was always pleading— begging for her to hear him out. he wasn't that type of guy, never. all of his exes got the same type of treatment, if they said that they were done, then lando wouldn't even bother.

he was a formula one driver, he didn't have the time.

but for her, he did.

she looks up, her arms still folded in front of her chest, legs curled up beneath her as she tries to find a comfortable position in an uncomfortable situation. glancing at the clock on the coffee table, it read in bright red neon numbers that it at 4:27 am, far too early or late for him to be here.

"we've had a similar conversation before, and i refused. so i'm refusing again," she sighs before meeting lando's eyes for the second time tonight, "i don't understand why you would want to keep this relationship. it doesn't benefit you for dating a poor girl."

"do you really think i care about your financial status?" lando asked, almost if it the thought of him caring about his (ex)girlfriend's financial status was ridiculous. he didn't care, it's the way she made him feel for the entirety of last year. she made him feel whole, like even if the world was against him, she would still be there.

she was used to men coming into her life who could think that they could "save" her and lando was no different to all of those other men. sure, she was definitely struggling trying to pay for her younger siblings education while working and pursuing her degree at the same time but that doesn't mean she was a damsel in distress and she expressed that to lando.

lando closed his eyes in frustration, "no, i didn't mean it like that—"

"well you sure as hell worded it like that," she looks away from him yet again, refusing to meet his eyes again until he had to leave. her eyes were glued to the window that overlooked the city, it was beautiful, calming— peaceful even, "i'm not changing my mind lando, we're worlds apart. i don't need you helping me, i can take care of myself."

with that, lando bit his lip and she ushers him out of her flat.

it had been months since lando's seen her, but he never forgot. he couldn't. the way she smelt, the way she laughed, everything still stuck in his brain as he continued his career.

the world didn't revolve around him, so the show must go on.

calling her old number had also become routine, almost an obsession. every finish, every weekend, anything that had to do with his career, lando would try and call her and tell her how his races were going, as if he wasn't talking to an automated robot on the other end of the line. the automated voice was practically his best friend because he's heard the damn voice so many times.

"the number you have dialed is currently unavailable or disconnected. please try again later."

and try again later he would.

he didn't understand himself, was it an obsession or was it the comfort that it gave him when he dialed her number? he didn't know. but sometimes he would hold up that phone to his ear and talk as if she was on the other end of the line, even though lando knew that there was no one waiting on the other line for him, not anymore.

but, the show must go on, right?

#Spotify #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #ln4 #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1

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irunaki · 2 days ago

Note

You mentioned gods when you showed us the OC map, may we see some?

YIPIII!!!!!!

So: I still need to organise things but here's the rough idea

There are 2 main religions around the islands and then there's like 30 more little ones that for now I don't think I'll develop much cuz I'm lazy

All the Gods from all the religions live together in the first sun (there's 2 sun's in case u didn't read the first oc thing)

Humans are the only ones whose Gods were denied bc since they fight too much abt it Gods decided they didn't deserve to have their help (whomp whomp)

But there's some Gods that are commun in every religion, just changing some small things

So the principal is the 1st sun God, cuz its the most important sun

Then some religions have all the suns in one god and all the moons in one god and other have a different god for each sun and each moon

Then theres like gods for everything

So the gods ill show here i didnt decide what religion they are specifically but they are from one of the 2 principal ones

(This drawong its old thos sucks)

Soo this is Aik he is one of the love Gods

He is the God of romantic love, he has a sister that is of family love and a brother that is of carnal love aka lust his father is of kindness/affection yk those types of things and his mother is of of birth and children and all that

I have the designs for his siblings and I should start making the ones for his parents soo ya

Bad English but ya

Look at the boy :3 he's like a big brother for all the other Gods, specially for the sun and moon ones but he isn't like the one who rules it all arl this is not like Zeus also he asks consent

Ok so thus is the lover it talked on the page above (his design inst finished yet)

then we have these two cuties

So the first one is the God of chaos, confusion, pretty much anything that doesn't make sense (they actually go down to the mortal World just to mess with things like randomly giving someone wings or turning your house upside down xd) I haven't decide their name yet cuz they go by too many names

Hes not a bad guy btw hes just silly like think of Discord from mlp when fluttershy alr made him good.

the second one is Afhria, and she's basically the opposite of them, Goddess of organisation, preparations also associated with luck, prosperity and education

ok so this one is Rokha and hes the "auxiliar " God like he is the one to be called when its going on like a ritual or a sacrifice or smr like that hes the one here tp help it go well and assure it gets to the God the mortals are trying to comunicate with (he's a sweetheart)

Hes also associates with things going well and luck

this is the early concept for Womm, the God of the starts but it's not finished so his design will probably change a lot yet

Heres a Aik paper doll I made btw

And here's some other concepts

1- Aik and his brother

2-Surya and two of his brothers but I didn't finish their design

3-Afhria and the Chaos :3

TYSM FOR THE ASK!!!!! ill try to develop the other gods cuz I have a looot of concepts but never actually continued them

#original character #Irunaki asks

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tuulikki · 3 days ago

Text

The funny thing about Jesus shipping is it literally drops us into about 2000 years of Biblical interpretation. Which disciple we pick is an exegesis/headcanon. And, in the most literal sense, it even depends on what texts we decide to count as canon.

Like, if we want to focus on John, we have to note that John is the only gospel that uses "beloved disciple" in the first place. So our source for John is... John.

And obviously "'The Gospel of X' says that X is the most important disciple" is the best fun you can have.

That's why I use "The Gospel of Judas" (c. 2nd-century CE) as my canon, even though it's Gnostic fuckery. tbh I think the "kiss" is the least compelling bit of J/J, because the anachronism of reading anything into that kiss makes it the weakest bullet point in the Jesus/Judas Shipper Manifesto. And the idea of Judas as a zealot is pretty indefensible unless we're just having fun (and we are).

Peter sources are all from the Synoptic Gospels (the oldest Gospels, in chronological order: Mark, Matthew, Luke). We can cherry pick gospels for shipping, but let's be real... Synoptics have Word of God energy lol. We kinda have to concede first place to Peter and then squabble (in good fun) about every other spot on the podium. Peter sure did deny Jesus three times but hey, he didn't betray him to his death.

(Long post, I decided to ramble. Just for my own amusement. Because this was my undergrad degree.)

Judas:

"The Gospel of Judas" is probably the ur-source for Jesus/Judas girlies and I just gotta infodump. Is it canonical to any Christian tradition? No, it’s docetist tomfoolery. But it's a really fun text to pull in because, as you'd expect from "The Gospel of Judas," Judas is Jesus' specialist little disciple:

(Jesus said to the disciples) “[Let] any one of you who is [strong enough] among human beings bring out the perfect human and stand before my face.” They all said, “We have the strength.” But their spirits did not dare to stand before [him], except for Judas Iscariot. He was able to stand before him, but he could not look him in the eyes, and he turned his face away.

You get Jesus selecting Judas as the only one who was worthy while also being enigmatic and fucking off when Judas asks questions:

Knowing that Judas was reflecting upon something that was exalted, Jesus said to him, “Step away from the others and I shall tell you the mysteries of the kingdom. It is possible for you to reach it, but you will grieve a great deal. For someone else will replace you, in order that the twelve [disciples] may again come to completion with their god.” Judas said to him, “When will you tell me these things, and [when] will the great day of light dawn for the generation?” But when he said this, Jesus left him.

You also get an enigmatic nickname and weird lovingly condescending divinity:

Judas said, “Master, as you have listened to all of them, now also listen to me. For I have seen a great vision.” When Jesus heard this, he laughed and said to him, “You thirteenth spirit, why do you try so hard? But speak up, and I shall bear with you.”

And we can’t emphasise enough that while Judas is special and the only one Jesus confides the truth in, Jesus tells him he’ll be reviled pretty much until the End Times. Poor little meow meow Judas:

When he heard this, Judas said to him, “What good is it that I have received it? For you have set me apart for that generation.” Jesus answered and said, “You will become the thirteenth, and you will be cursed by the other generations—and you will come to rule over them. In the last days they will curse your ascent to the holy [generation].”

And although The Last Temptation of Christ was written well before we found the Gospel of Judas, we get the same dynamic where Jesus and Judas both know beforehand that Judas will enable Jesus’ sacrifice, which has a tragic weird intimacy about it:

“But you will exceed all of them. For you will sacrifice the man that clothes me.”

This bit really almost reads like fanfic already:

“Look, you have been told everything. Lift up your eyes and look at the cloud and the light within it and the stars surrounding it. The star that leads the way is your star.”

Speaking of The Last Temptation of Christ, I personally find it to be a better, weirder J/J source than "Jesus Christ Superstar." Not least because it tries to reconcile the gospels the most of I've seen in any other piece of media. Side note: When I say "reconcile," I mean narratively dealing with contradictions. E.g., how Nativity plays put both magi (Matthew) and shepherds (Luke) in the same story.

And "The Last Temptation of Christ" film adaptation really brings in the unsettling chaotic energy that I think a story about an incarnate deity destined to die requires. Apart from "Goncharov," it's my favourite Scorsese:

youtube

John:

If we ditch the Synoptic gospels and focus on John, of course John will give us John as the "disciple whom Jesus loved," since John is the only gospel that uses that term. And John is the best-written gospel, hands-down, so it's just a winner of a text.

Though, just to clarify for anyone who might have misread what OP said: the word "philtatos" is not in the Bible. The closest concept is the "ho mathētēs hon ēgapā ho Iēsous"/"disciple whom Jesus loved" term that the John author invented to describe John. And since John is the last of the canonical Gospels, it would be absolutely bugfuck crazy Dan-Brownery to make historical claims. But I hope Jesus/John shippers are out there pulling in the Apocryphon of John just because the opening is pretty poignant. And obviously John 13:23 with John leaning on Jesus' chest is tremendously good.

Peter:

For Peter, I feel like having the Synoptics backing up your ship will always give the superior claim to, uh, your ship being canon. But the full bit of Matt 26:33-35 kinda ruins my fun:

Peter replied, “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.” Truly I tell you, Jesus answered, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” But Peter declared, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the other disciples said the same.

All the other disciples chiming in makes it less special. And the fact that he does disown Jesus is a bit... :(

I think my problem is that Peter gives me Kronk energy by running about hopping out of boats and swinging his sword about. It's giving "Peter, dumb as a rock". But I'd be lying if that didn't make for good material.

Tangentially: I'm also in the camp that The Secret Gospel of Mark was a forgery (it's too damn convenient to find an intensely controversial "gay gospel" and then whoops! we lose the gospel à la Joseph Smith's golden tablets) but I respect Morton Smith for giving us this:

“The youth, looking upon [Jesus], loved him and began to beseech him that he might be with him,” it read. “And after six days Jesus told him what to do and in the evening the youth comes to him, wearing a linen cloth over his naked body. And he remained with him that night, for Jesus taught him the mystery of the kingdom of God.”

If only he'd had access to AO3...

jesus/judas isn't even the best jesus yaoi. the betrayal kiss is a powerful symbol for sure and judas killing himself after jesus' crucifixion is of course hugely significant (see: jesus christ superstar). but in biblical canon there is literally a disciple described as jesus' most beloved. his favourite disciple. his philtatos, for the song of achilles girlies. he was the last disciple to die, he leans his head on jesus' shoulder at the last supper (and some scholars believe he was the only one jesus told of the nature of judas' betrayal). and lest we forget peter, who also betrayed/rejected jesus after swearing his eternal love for him, threatened to kill and die for him, was all like "i'll follow you anywhere" and "i'll be with you forever". straight up tried to walk on water for jesus. He was crazy. it was yaoi central in there

#christianity #jesus x judas #and friends

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itsa-me-lily · 23 hours ago

Text

First of all, anyone with pets, this fic may fuck you up. It fucked me up and I wrote it. So please keep that in mind before reading this fic. This is for sure some of my own personal trauma I used to flavor this, that and my tears.

Second THE PIGS ARE OKAY IN THE END I PROMISE, spoilers I know but I felt like I needed to put that in advance

Third here is the other Military Program Spouse stuff

Fourth @nightunite I want to blame this on you but this is honestly all me

Content warning; anxiety, panicking, pet illness, discussion of pet death, concern that violence has been committed against reader, concern that reader is injured, angst

You were not a woman who needed her husband, but fuck was this a time you wanted him.

You had suspected something was up with boys. You couldn't tell if they were eating, and neither would come running to the edge of their enclosure to greet you when you came home. You tried not to panic, tried to ignore the tendrils of anxiety that wrapped around your lungs to strange them. This time was different. You weren't some kid who just graduated college and didn't have a clue. You knew better this time.

So you mixed up your CritCare, made the next available appointment with their vet, and remained determined that everything was going to be fine.

Then the wheezing started.

You had been on the cusp of sleep, your phone mocking you with the announcement of one am. You knew you needed to sleep, and yet you hadn't been able to. In the dark you could admit that you were scared. And that you had a reason to be.

You hadn't made the pull out bed, instead just planning on sleeping on the couch as is, incase something happened. You're thankful you had. It made scooping both Jiji and Tombo to abscond to the bathroom easier, the three of you sitting against the door as the hot running shower filled the tiny room with steam. It would help. It had to.

Only it didn't. Ten minutes later and they still sounded so terrible. You could feel the fear starting to churn your stomach. What if you couldn't fix it? What if you were too late again and-Your breath hitched as you tried not to spiral. It had to be different this time but-your eyes burned as you tried to ignore the urge to cry. You were so alone. Simon was out on some overnight lieutenant training, and you were alone in your bathroom with your boys who were absolutely everything to you and they sounded so sick and what if you couldn't make them, what if it was just like last time where you tried and tried and it still didn't make them any better and you lost them and-

You can't help the sob that ripped out of your chest, holding the boys a little tighter. You needed to do something. You have to do something because your boys needed you to. Sniffling, you tried to unlock your phone to check where the ER vet is, only it opens to the conversation you had with Simon.

'If anything happens call Soap.'

You were sure that Simon had probably meant if there was some sort of human emergency, when he had offered up his best friend, but you were desperate. Without really thinking about it you were dialing the Scot, breath hitching as you tried to get it under control. The endless ringing just made the anxiety wring your insides. You were about to give up when at the last second a voice came on the line, disoriented and thick with sleep.

"'ello?"

"J-Johnny?"

You hadn't meant for your voice to crack when you said his name, but just hearing another person meant that you didn't have to try this alone and the relief that crashed over you made you a little weak.

"I need help."

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish, liked to think that he was a man prepared for anything. He was a solider, a demolition expert, he could make anything blow with just the right amount of faith, trust, and c-4. He was ready to fly out to whatever corner of the world needed him to kick ass.

He was not ready to hear Ghost's wife, which that was an odd sentence in and of itself, almost crying down the line as she called him in the dead of night. You hadn't even finished saying his name and Johnny was already rolling out of bed, looking for anything to throw on.

Image after terrible image flashed through his mind as he heard your plea for help. Had someone broken in? Were you hurt? One awful thought struck him of you cowering somewhere until the person determined to get revenge on Ghost found you. No. He couldn't panic. You already sounded distressed and he couldn't help you if he lost his head. Johnny was a professional.

"Hen, need you to tell me where you are."

"At-at the house-"

"Is anyone else there?"

"N-no."

Johnny would have sagged with relief if he wasn't so busy shoving his feet into his boots and already halfway out the door. Not a break in, at least as far as you were aware. It didn't rule out you being hurt though.

"Listen I'll be there in ten, don't move."

"But the boys-"

Looking back, Johnny probably should have let you finish before ending the call, but in his defense he had a twenty minute drive to cut in half, and an LT to notify. He wasn't really sure what the relationship between the two of you was, but he had been there the night Ghost had overheard some private talk about you, and Ghost hadn't taken kindly to it.

Of course, the private needed to be socked a few times given what he was saying, but still, as far as he had known his LT hadn't even wanted to be in the spousal program until Price threatened him with extra psych meetings. Then next thing Johnny new Ghost was defending your honor and asking him to keep an eye on ya when he was out of town. So whatever the hell was going on between the two of you, Johnny wasn't going to fuck it up.

Which was how he was now at the closest emergency vet visit, trying to keep you from crying further while someone looked at your guinea pigs. Even he could admit the poor guys had sounded awful in the car.

He had tried not to push, even if he had been frustrated when he had first arrived at Ghost's home. He had spent ten minutes driving like the devil was chasing him, imagining you laying there with a broken neck or worse, and you had been perfectly fine, standing there at the door talking about needing a vet.

Johnny had had half a mind to give you an earful of what constituted as a past midnight call for help, but before he had the chance to, your face had crumbled and it was over for him. He was taking you and two guinea pigs to the vets.

He watched as you picked at your cuticles, seeming to need some sort of distraction, though he couldn't tell how well it was working given the way you seemed to be staring at the floor. Just as he was about to reach out to stop you from making yourself bleed for the third time, his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He was pretty sure he knew who was calling at this hour.

He didn't even bother checking the ID before answering, stepping away, not that you noticed.

"Hey LT."

"Status report MacTavish."

"Missus is okay. The wee ones got taken back. Now we're just waiting."

"...Thank you Johnny."

That was unexpected. Sure Ghost wasn't a complete bastard, but the genuine gratitude that came through the line was...shocking. He didn't know if it was for driving you while you were upset or even just being there. He wasn't sure if Ghost even knew.

"Any time Simon."

"How is-"

Johnny didn't mean to cut the man off, but a man in mint green scrubs had come out calling for last name Riley, and he didn't want to leave you alone to get whatever news was coming.

"They just called for us. Update you later."

He probably shouldn't have hung up just like that, but well he figured Ghost would appreciate the dedication to keeping you upright this evening.

It was an upper raspatory infection, is what Soap told him the vet had said. Simon didn't know how two guinea pigs who never left the house got infections like that, but according to Soap who had said according to the vet, that you had caught it early enough and a course of antibiotics would help.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he remembered getting Soap's messages, at first the worry that something had happened to you, and then the concern later when it was clear that it was the pigs.

Simon knew you had some sort of trauma in regards to them. There was no way that the level of hypervigilance you had in regards to them wasn't. He had seen it other service members before. Hell he lived it, that constant nagging feeling that if you weren't aware of everything all the time, then something was going to get you. It hadn't been until he had asked about the two wooden boxes on your nightstand that he had started to understand.

You'd had two other guinea pigs before, pets you had gotten to sooth the loneliness right after college. And of course you loved them, loved them just as much as you loved your boys now. Only you hadn't known then what to look out for with sick guinea pigs.

Simon could remember the sad look in your eyes as you had brushed your fingers along the top of one wooden urn. You had tried so hard to nurse them back to health, did everything you could, went to the vet as often as you could afford to, but you had been trying to catch up to a loosing race. Simon had pretended not to notice how you had tried not to let any tears spill over as you explained it all to him. So now, with Jiji and Tombo, he could see how that would probably send you spiraling.

Really he owed Soap at least a drink the next time they went out, even if at four in the morning the Scot had tried to brush off any gratitude from when he reported to Simon that everyone was back home where they were supposed to be. He knew he didn't say it enough, but Simon was grateful that Soap had his six, and in this case yours.

Pulling up to the driveway, Simon braced himself for whatever laid waiting for him at high noon. It was the best possible anticlimactic. You asleep on the couch clear bags under your eyes, and two little pigs poking their heads out of their hideys to see what was going on now.

Making his way over he knelt down next to the cage, watching as Jiji stuck his head out a little further to even accept the gentle brushing of Simon's finger. The antibiotics must have already been helping.

"Alright you two, it's time to get better now. You can't go breaking your mum's heart."

Edit;

Jiji and Tombo make a full recovery and are back to being their adorable menacing selves in no time. Baker thankfully never got sick because he was being quarantined due to the ringworm

Also this is incredibly emotional for me, because I loved all my boys I've had, and I'd do all over again, the medication runs, vet visits, syringe feedings, if it meant that they got better. So even if it's in this world, to have piggies get better means a lot.

#military program spouse #simon x reader #cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #guinea pig

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wrathofrats · 2 days ago

Text

Seeing Blind (you’re too good to be all mine)

Chapter 5. Mature, 2.4k. Read under cut or on Ao3

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

As always thank you to @divine-misfortune for writing this with me <3

Rain whipped around. Confused to see Dew running up to him from the side field, brushing debris off of his overalls. They had never spoken before, at least not directly like this. Small quips and comments when he finds himself at Swiss’ side that sound like they’re meant to be digs directed at him despite the fact Dew barely acknowledged his presence.

“I’m sorry?”

“I think we should have a talk“

It’s Rain’s turn to barely sleep in Swiss’ arms. His head swimming with a tirade of thought. Was he not good enough? Did he do something wrong? Go too fast? Maybe Swiss just didn’t want him in the same way he did?

He could feel how hard he was against his back for a good portion of the night. Rationally, most of that couldn’t possibly be true. Why would Swiss assume he wasn’t ready for it? None of it made sense and it left a strange, conflicted feeling in him. Not quite dejected but certainly confused.

At least he could finally sleep comfortably beside him, in a bed, like real people who like each other do.

When the sun threatens to crest the horizon, Swiss is shifting behind him. Moving carefully. Thoughtfully trying not to jostle Rain awake, no reason for him to have to adhere to the ungodly early schedule Swiss kept. It’s a hopeless effort but it was the thought that counted. Rain stirred as the arm beneath his head began to retreat, making a soft sound he could only describe as a chirp. His eyes fight to open, drooping despite himself, as Swiss slipped from the cozy little cocoon they’d made.

“Shh tadpole…Go back to sleep”

Cute. Rain looked beyond adorable and Swiss suddenly understood the meaning of ‘cuteness aggression’. The messy hair and blush coloring his cheeks the loveliest shade of pink was entirely unfair, but the way he managed to bat those pretty eyelashes was playing dirty.

“Just’a couple more minutes Swiss, ‘lease” Rain mumbled his way right into a yawn, tugging at Swiss’ shirt like he might just drag him back into bed like this.

“I’ve gotta go, I can’t be late. But come see me on my break, ‘kay?”

Swiss smoothed the hair from his forehead, dipping down to kiss the little crease between his brows before Rain’s head dropped back to the pillow with a small whine that he gives up on committing to when the comforters pulled back over him. Hard not to snuggle back in, harder not to bury his face in the other pillow to inhale the comfortable lingering scent like he might just pretend Swiss was still beside him.

Didn’t stop him from pouting though.

Leaving Rain was a real test of his will but dutifully Swiss dragged himself away. It was safer for him to duck out as early as this, less of a chance of being caught by the wrong person. He woefully stuffed his feet back into his muddy boots abandoned by the front door and trudged outside towards his truck.

He prayed it was too early for anyone else to be lurking about, and if it had to be anyone, let it be Mountain.

But God had a sense of humor, apparently.

Dew and cirrus were waiting for him with wolfish grins near the tractor, immediately trying to prod him for answers.

"Well well well, smooth talked your way right into his bed huh?" Dew laughed

"Didn't take him for easy.” Cirrus folds her arms looking over his sorry, disheveled state.

"So how was he? Did he even know what he was doing? Was it embarrassingly bad? That why you're doing the walk of shame before the suns even up?" Dew gasped at the promise of scandal, hanging off of Cirrus’ arm with a smirk like he was pleased with himself.

Swiss couldn’t tell if he wanted them to die or if he'd like a stampede of cattle to take him out then and there. Honestly, didn't know if they even deserved a response. Probably shouldn’t. All their senseless prodding, he shouldn’t dignify it but God Dew was too fucking annoying to ignore at times.

“We didn’t do anything” Swiss pushed past them to make the hike back to his truck so he could at least change. Boss might give him weird looks for showing up in yesterday's wrinkled clothes.

“Oh, sure. Totally. So, tell me, he invites you in and you spend the night doing what exactly? A kiss on the cheek before turning off the lights at nine on the dot so you can sleep on opposite sides of the bed with both hands above the covers?” Dew questions incredulously, with an oddly specific example. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever fucking met, Swiss!”

Swiss winced at the volume of his voice, nervously eyeing the farmhouse standing silently as he gestured aggressively for him to shut the fuck up. Rain would be mortified if he knew the others were talking about him in this fashion.

“Love that Swiss thinks he can lie his way out of shit like this, as if you of all people don’t know what he looks like after a long night.” Cirrus snickers behind her hand and Dew suddenly looks appalled.

“Oh my fucking god it was one time!”

“It was a couple times actually-“

Like a thief in the night, Swiss uses their endless bickering as an excuse to slip away from their interrogation. He climbed into the backseat of his truck and rummaged under the passenger seat - working a job like this, he learned early on to keep a change of clothes on hand. It was awkward to say the least. He was not a dainty man and the back of his truck was far from spacious but he managed to climb out only having smashed his elbow into the window twice. Seemingly just in time. The crunch of gravel and the sharp squeaks of a poor suspension announced their arrival before the truck branded with an all too familiar logo rounded the bend.

His head snapped around alarmingly fast, met with mischievous grins from the both of them. He bristled. “Not a fucking word or I’m telling him to drug test you two.” Swiss hissed, both warning and threatening. Dew made a face, opening his mouth to retort but Cirrus was faster. Sticking out her tongue in his direction before grabbing him by the arm and leading him away to where they would pretend to work for the next two hours.

As they left him standing beside his truck, Swiss watched Rain’s father get out of the truck with clearly stiffened limbs. His throat felt tight as he looked his way, fearing that just maybe he knew but the man just regarded him with a curt nod and a gruff good morning, then headed inside.

Swiss wanted to close his head in the door of his truck, multiple times.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

Rain slipped out the back door an hour or so after lunch. Wearing exhaustion and semi untamed curls, a brand of disheveled he’d never sported before. He was off the schedule they’d taken to over the last few weeks. Swiss’ lunch break was a little before two, and it was currently well past. Swiss could sigh and huff all he liked about him sleeping in and shirking his fruit picking responsibilities, as well as what he’d woefully described as ‘kiss withdrawls’, but Rain truly couldn’t be faulted for sleeping in. His sheets smelled like warm tobacco and aftershave, a little bit like hay and whatever it was truly encompassed Swiss. It was hard for rain to leave in the morning, silently hoping it would linger until he got back that night.

“Rain! I’ve been looking for you!”

“I’m sorry?”

“I think we should have a talk, can you come here for a minute?” Dew kicked some rocks and pursed his lips at rain who looked more than confused. He looked around for Swiss, to see if this was one of his shenanigans or could at least save him from whatever was happening.

Dew knew their routine. Knew exactly how to intersect Rain’s path before he could go attach himself to Swiss like an overgrown leech. It was almost too easy for him to find and stop him. If Rain had any more confidence in himself he would’ve told Dew to leave him alone, return the same disdain Dew had regarded him with from the start, but he was alarmingly forward. Grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him with surprising ease towards the tractor for a bit more privacy. Less of a chance they’d be interrupted.

Dew, and the other workers by extension were far from fond of him. Swiss was the outlier. Rain knew fighting him on this would cause nothing but trouble.

“Where are you going by the way? Thought you didn’t have to do your small share of work till later.” Whatever over sweetness he’d greeted him with dropped from his tone, borderline sneering at him instead.

“Dad asked me to check on one of the cows, said she looked in bad shape this morning.” Rain readjusted the bag on his shoulder, eyes flitting towards the field with a silent prayer that Swiss might just happen to pop up. Save him from whatever he’d walked into.

“Bullshit,” Dew barely stopped himself from laughing at his lie. “He would’ve mentioned it to us, not you.” Dew crossed his arms, leaning on the tractor. Casually and subtly blocking off Rain’s easy exit back to the yard.

“Ok…Then what do you think I’m doing?” Rain scoffed and rolled his eyes. This was dumb, they both had better things to be doing.

“Considering that brown paper sack in your hands, and the little birdie that talks about you in the barn, I’d say you’re bringing Swiss a snack for his break” it’s the slight flick of his eyes that answers the silent accusation.

“I don’t see how what I do with my time is any of your business” Rain's voice was almost entirely confident, almost. The faintest waver under his incredulous stare. It was hard to hold steady when someone as intense as Dew was interrogating him like he was caught about to do something downright sinister.

“Well I just think it’s funny how much time you spend with him. All of your breaks, sneaking out to go to the bonfire, spending the night?” He practically hissed his last point. “Thought your dad didn’t like you spending too much time with people like us. Weird, huh?”

“I’m not like that, I’m not my father.” Rain felt almost guilty as dew continued to stare at him like he was disgusted. Had he really been that bad? He didn’t think he was that much of a priss before Swiss came around.

“Oh you aren’t? Rain, all you do is sit on your throne and occasionally feed the animals or pick fruit for daddy’s approval. I’ve heard what he’s said, what you’ve said.”

His face, with whatever increasingly anxious expression he’d been sporting, fell instantly. Comments from his father over the years rooted in overworked frustration when profits didn’t balance out costs, when equipment turned up broken, when the work wasn't done to his standards. Blindly throwing blame on his workers. And Rain, a teenager vying for his parent’s approval, stupidly echoed the sentiment more than once and turned his nose up at them and the work they did. Even went out of his way to avoid the lot of them at the behest of his father.

“Dew, I’m sorry…I never-“

“All I’m saying is don’t fuck around and break Swiss’ heart just because you’ve decided to enjoy the attention from the peasants” Dew spat. His tone growing increasingly more frustrated as the months or years of indignation began to finally bubble to the surface.

“That’s not-“ A finger is held up before he can begin to explain himself, effectively shutting him up before he could stammer any further.

“Save it princess, I don’t want to hear it! I’m warning you to stop fucking around with him - Swiss doesn’t deserve to be some passing fancy till you’re able to go back to that prestigious university of yours.”

Rain opened his mouth and quickly closed it when he couldn’t manage any sound. Dread filled his stomach and began clawing its way up his throat. Choking him.

Is that really what they all thought of him? Is that what Swiss thought all of this was?

“You’re a smart guy, yeah? You should be smart enough to know not to cross this clear line in the sand that you and your dad drew a long time ago. Go back to your fucking tower and stay there.”

And as quickly as his tirade began, it ended with Dew turning on his heel and storming off with his fists clenched at his sides. He’d said more than enough for Rain to get the message; none of them wanted anything to do with him, Swiss just didn’t know it yet. They all harbored a level of resentment Rain hadn’t quite comprehended apparently.

Rain didn’t walk after him. Stays rooted in place watching Dew stalk off towards the fields until the vague shape of him becomes blurry. Tears burned in his eyes. All he could do was shrink into himself and return to the house where he promptly shoved the paper bag to the bottom of the trash can. At least there, he could pretend he’d never made it to begin with.

Was he stupid? He felt like an idiot for ever thinking he could really have something as genuine as this.

Heat radiated within his chest and made itself known in the form of blotchy redness in his cheeks. He retreated to his room, bag dropped steps in front of his door in order to throw himself onto his bed like a teenage girl with a broken heart. They weren’t anything and yet it felt like his rib cage was caving in. Guilt, shame, and humiliation danced inside him. Mingled into a single sensation that made his throat painfully tight.

Rain hiccuped over a half sob, shoving both pillows off the bed and onto the floor. He didn’t need the reminder. With both pillows out of the way, he was met with the cotton candy blue shark he’d stuffed into hiding the night before. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and pulled the plush against himself. Childish comforts.

Dew was right, telling him the things he was too selfish to acknowledge. None of them wanted him around, and maybe Swiss didn’t really either. Did Swiss only humor him because he was the boss’ son? Placate ‘the princess’ to keep his job. Dew was right. He didn’t deserve Swiss.

#I’m so sorry this took forever I promise we are committed to finishing it #I love this au so much #I hope you guys do too #please enjoy there’s a lot planned coming up <3 #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #wrath writes #swiss ghoul #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul

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creatingblackcharacters · 1 day ago

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hi there; first, thank you for making this blog and all the lessons you do, i really appreciate them as a Black person because it highlights a lot of struggles i face with fandoms in general, and why i dont interact more in certain spaces. it makes me feel seen

with regards to your questions, i'd also like answers to them from nonblack fans, especially nonblack anime fans. i don't even mean consuming anime with overtly racist caricatures of black characters (because numerous anime fans pirate their anime and never send a cent to the creators anyway), i mean how can they make fanworks of it?

how can they look at something that they are told is wildly offensive, but then defend with "well, this is how it looks in canon"? where is the line drawn between what's okay and what isn't? as long as it's slow and gradual, is there no line at all?

these are probably just rehashings of your own followup questions, so please excuse that, but i do have an anecdote

i joined a casual anime server the other day and a lot of folks were lamenting one Black character's racist design and how often those on social media will replicate it without thinking/caring. The thing that struck me is that, I've checked this character's tumblr tag regularly for a long time. There are always people who will post art/fanworks of this character with his racist design. Yet hardly ever, if ever, (outside of Black fans) have I seen any of these folks- the ones in the discord server- try to talk to artists/writers/fan creators/etc via asks/replies/etc. There's a notable amount of people in that server and a notable amount that agreed the design was outright racist and that they'll never make fanworks like that, and yet still silence

i'm not entirely sure what would be the line, or the "okay, that's enough" moment to spur any of these folks into action. i'm not sure if there is one. the only reason i don't make my own "hey what is wrong with all of you" post and blow up is because I've made a wonderful little friend group in this fandom who get it, and I don't want them to get caught up in whatever happens if I were to make a post like that

And this is just for getting people to stop using the canon design of the character, i.e., to stop drawing him as a racist caricature. This isn't touching on the people who 1) lighten his skintone [he's been horribly whitewashed over time, which has been reflected in some fanarts and fan merch], or 2) give him a looser hair/straight hair texture, rather than his type 4 hair (there's also #3, which is fanfiction with straight up slurs, and horribly racist writing in it that my friend heavily warned me not to read, but that was more of a one-off case and I've had the creator blocked a long time now).

my point being, we (Black fans) can't even get folks to stop with the caricatures, which we have to start with, and then there's even more of an annoying uphill battle with the other stuff. I'm just so tired of all of this; it makes me want delete my own works and turn away from fandom all together because i can't stand it.

trying for polite and assuming ignorance hardly ever works, speaking bluntly doesnt work at all, making public posts hardly goes anywhere (partly because of how rarely people reblog things anymore, partly because it makes people 'uncomfortable' to share this information with others). Black fans so obviously need help to combat this, and yet it's like sitting at a tea party and hearing all these pretty words in this one setting, yet nobody does anything different/better when the party's over/outside this setting.

sorry for dooming a bit, but like, genuinely i would like to know where the line is for nonblack folks? what is the point/are the points where you would speak up against antiblack racism? have you ever considered speaking up? if there's ever a moment you recognized antiblack racism and didn't say anything, why didn't you? did you consider how your lack of speaking up might affect your fellow Black fans? or how Black fans may be interpret this as silent agreement with the racists/with the racist 'norm'?

..those could maybe be alternative ways of asking your last followup question?

(if i've made any blunders or overstepped here, please let me know!)

No, I'm glad you spoke up! I too would like to see answers!

#creatingblackcharacters #fandom racism #racism #antiblackness

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somerunner · 2 days ago

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Of course, as a practicing member of the church, and being someone who's easily swayed by propaganda, I view the history a little differently. But not all that differently (only just enough to voice that I view it differently), so I'm not going to make a post trying to write out my preferred version of events. That's a far lower priority than engaging with this post on what I agree with.

The thing is, sanding off our rough edges really is a tragedy. I think that sanitizing our history or steel-manning it is a tragedy. Even if it's something that most if not all religious organizations and countries do, if your reported (note: "reported," not "recorded," but records are reports after a fashion, so it really doesn't matter) histories lose the messy complexity of the past, they fail to adequately prepare you for the messy complexity of the present.

The church was and is composed of people, and people get panicky when their in-group comes into conflict with another in-group. The deeper the ideological divide (note: or the deeper divide in any category, but in this case it was primarily ideological), the worse the conflict. And no matter if your ideals are to be peaceful, you get a large enough group together and there will be agitators within it, and followers of those agitators.

I don't think of myself as a good person. I think that's why I stay in the church -- for both of the reasons you might expect from that last sentence (i.e. it makes me better the more I participate in it, and in addition I'm not principled enough to strike out on my own). I feel compelled to both defend and criticize the church in the same breath, because doing only one of those things feels wrong.

I don't know where I was going with this. I hope this didn't come across as a defense of the church any more than your post did, and I hope it didn't come across as too critical either. I think your story linked above (the "I was taught by one" part right before you bring up Fallout) is one of my favorite stories of a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He's a little kooky and quite vindictive, but dedicated to being better and to trusting in God. That's probably the best I can hope to become, though I'd probably be trading vindictiveness for waffliness (i.e. the tendency towards waffling, or failing to decide).

There are plenty of published articles and talks within the church or by active members of the church that I feel have acknowledged this kind of messiness within it, but I feel like only acknowledging this from within the bubble makes me feel some kind of sheltered. I'd still be remiss to not mention them, though, hence this paragraph. Of course, some of them still feel a bit sanitized to me so they'd feel wildly sanitized to most Tumblr denizens, but I think a few might be something the average tumblrite could stomach. My favorite (and one stomach-able by the readers here, I think) is probably the opening sections of Letters to a Young Mormon by Adam S. Miller, that read rather similarly to your autobiographical posts. I still haven't finished the thing after several years, and it's only like 80 pages, and a miniature book at that.

Happy trails, Babylon. I mean, bloody and desperate trails, Babylon.

Would you mind sharing the psalm and why you felt that person was the most humanist Mormon? I'm not religious at all but I find these sort of things very interesting.

In exchange I could offer the reason for my url ?

I'm warning you, this is kind of a mega essay, and it's fucking unhinged. Click at your own risk.

(Alright. You clicked.)

Psalms 137

By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept

when we remembered Zion.

There on the poplars

we hung our harps,

for there our captors asked us for songs,

our tormentors demanded songs of joy;

they said, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”

How can we sing the songs of the Lord

while in a foreign land?

If I forget you, Jerusalem,

may my right hand forget its skill.

May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth

if I do not remember you,

if I do not consider Jerusalem

my highest joy.

Remember, Lord, what the Edomites did

on the day Jerusalem fell.

“Tear it down,” they cried,

“tear it down to its foundations!”

Daughter Babylon, doomed to destruction,

happy is the one who repays you

according to what you have done to us.

Happy is the one who seizes your infants

and dashes them against the rocks.

———

Mormonism has layers. Different cores of believers, cultures within itself. The largest group of Mormons also dominate its image within the larger culture. You know them as the nerdy, cheerful, bubbly dorks on South Park, or the hopelessly naive childlike weirdos from the Book of Mormon musical. Strangely sanitized, "wholesome" people that are, clearly, unwhole. Missing some essential part of the human experience.

(Pain, maybe?)

I think that embracing this image is letting Mormonism view itself as what it wishes it was. A group with all its rough edges sanded off, all its raw and desperate humanity scrubbed away. A clean and godly and slightly unsettling image of joy.

That isn't how it started.

Now, most people know the story of Joseph Smith. Fourteen year old farm boy starts a cult because the whole world if full of idiots, I won't repeat it because you've probably already got it from South Park. But at some point that weirdo cult did become a religion, and I would point to that moment as the Mormon War of 1838.

I don't know how far after the founding that was. Enough that Joseph Smith was a grown man. Enough that the Mormons had around 15-25 thousand members. They'd moved to the Illinois-Missouri area and were establishing settlements.

(They creeped the locals out. Of course they creeped the locals out.)

Eventually, they got pushed out of the county they'd claimed. Jackson County, it was. The state couldn't actually take that county from the people that expelled them, so to try and make the Mormons "whole" for the land they'd bought (ignoring the houses and farms they'd already set up) it gave them a new county.

Next election that came around, that county was sieged. Voting was blocked. Now, the people of the state were terrified that this weirdo voting block was going to take them over. They probably weren't wrong. Some former Mormons had straggled in from the county revealing a frankly corrupt land dealthat the early church had used to transfer resources to itself, and that served as a tipping point. To prevent their state from becoming a religious basketcase, a mob sieged the Mormon county during the next election.

The state tried to return order by sending the militia in to break up the siege, but the militia mutinied. They joined the siegers. A ground of strange, extremist violent Mormons known as the Danites rode out and attacked local settlements that were known to house the families of the militia members.

The Governor at the time - Lilburn Boggs - sent out an executive decree. The Mormons were traitors, and were to be killed on sight. It is the only religion in the US to have ever had such an order made against it.

The Mormons surrendered their county and went to Nauvoo, Illinois. There were again expelled from that city in 1846, and traveled west.

They died in great numbers and they never forgot the homes they lost.

———

I tried to tell the story as sympathetically to the people of Missouri as I could. The Mormons made messes wherever they went, and they unsettled everyone they interacted with. But they were attacked as well, and had a history of violence against them. It should not be totally surprising that they became insular and strange.

Many (most?) Mormons that learn all of their history wind up leaving the religion. It has twists and turns and knots and it is incredibly, overwhelmingly human. I think that's where the facade of Mormon perfectionism comes from - the shame of that. The desire to be something else. But being human is all I've ever wanted. And occasionally, there are people faithful in the church - layers upon layers deep - that know their history.

And they are angry about it.

I think it's more common than people realize. Did you know that until 1930 Mormons swore literal religious oaths of vengeance against the US government for the deaths of Joseph and Hyrum Smith?

I always felt like these were, in some way, the real Mormons. They knew their history, and they loved their church, and they hated what it had suffered all those years ago.

They scared me, those people. But they seemed complete. More complete than the people that had carved out everything that didn't make them smile. They'd walked into the mirror, and touched their shadow, and danced with. Melded with it.

And I knew a few like that. I was taught by one. And he didn't convince me, but he interested me. Gave me some respect for the people I left behind.

———

In the game Fallout: New Vegas, there is a character named Joshua Graham. He's a Mormon. Not like the silly children in adult bodies that they always use on TV. He has gravitas. He has put away his moral compass before, to pursue the dream of one powerful man. Poured his soul into it, helped that man conquer the whole west in piecemeal. He's a somewhat on the nose analogy of the Mormon people themselves, following Joseph Smith. And when he finally failed, when he fought a battle he could not win on the gates of the Old World Hoover Dam, he was lit on fire and thrown into the Grand Canyon to die.

But he did not die.

He says he survived because the fire in him burned brighter than the fire around him. And it seems that way when you speak with him in game. There is something compellingly bright to him. Not shiny like a new toy, or a Utah teenager that hasn't seem just how grim the world can be. He's something blinding, compelling.

But that brightness casts shadows.

He is vicious. He was saved in the canyon by the family he left, the old Mormons of a new world. And he's trying to find that part of him again, regain the soul he lost pursuing someone else's vision. But that old vicious animal part of the covenant is with him. I see Joshua Graham and I see the animal that the Mormons became to survive the West.

And in the game, there is eventually a choice given.

You can lead the tribe Joshua has joined up with out of their Zion. Their Jackson County Missouri. Peacefully and perfectly and inhumnanly transcendant, the way the Mormons wish they actually were about everything. You can give him the chance to be what Mormonism has always wished it could be. Or you can fight with them and help them reclaim their paradise, but get your hands stuck deep in the muck of this world.

Joshua Graham knows his history. He knows all the homes his people lost. And whatever brightness he's trying to regain, whatever soul he's trying to win back from the world that takes and takes and takes and takes - he wants to give it all up again to let these people keep their home.

He knows his past and he is angry.

And as the player, you help him make peace with one of two things: Being human by being fallen, or keeping his soul at the cost of reliving the ancestral trauma of losing Zion yet again.

Both were pretty visceral decisions for a Mormon teenage Babylon to make.

(Tagging @boonebignaturals in this because I need a witness to my madness.)

#jclds runnerpost #religious runnerpost #tw death #runnerpost #gaming #(because of Joshua Graham being from a video game‚ forgive me for being neurotic)#it's funny - normally I use the term “tumblrite” as it feels more dignified than “tumblrina”#but in this post it's especially thematically appropriate as‚ in the Book of Mormon‚ the names of each people has “-ite” as the suffix #(e.g. Nephites‚ Lamanites‚ etc.)#anyway. For those confused about the commas somehow working in the tags‚ each “comma” is a Single Low-9 Quotation Mark.#It looks the same but doesn't split the tag in two.#On the third editing pass of this post I realized I use the phrase “I feel” a lot. Not sure what to do about it‚ but there you go.

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faiell · 3 days ago

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yapping about fics and commenting

sorry to yap but work is boring today and tumblr isn't blocked on my work computer LOL

ok it's abt that post where the writer friend stopped writing because they weren't getting the comments/kudos they wanted.

i'm like. an overeager fandom person. like i cannot get into a fandom without wanting to meet new people and make friends. i love yapping about whatever silly gay idiots i'm hyperfixating over. i'm all about community, and sharing the joy of fandom, and all that fun positive stuff.

i don't post my art for stats but like. that means nothing coming from me tbh. i get stats. i can't accurately predict what would happen if i stopped getting notes on my art, but i would probably keep drawing and keep posting, just maybe less confidently, and less often. i recognize that stats make it much easier and while it’s not my primary motivation, it definitely motivates me to keep posting.

and yet. for years, i never commented on fic. i think i left kudos? and i saw posts like this all the time about how writers were so sad they didn't get comments. and i would feel super guilty about it all the time. but i still wouldn't do it! it sounds stupid, but i would feel pressured. if i liked a fic a lot, it felt even more difficult to comment, because i thought i would have to somehow give back to the author everything that fic gave to me. i wanted to craft the perfect comment that could perfectly encapsulate everything a fic made me feel. and that was way too much pressure so i would just not say anything.

when i got into drarry, i started reading a shit ton of fic. and i still wouldn't comment. i left maybe... 2 or 3 comments, maybe, i think. i can't remember. but i had a lot to say and i WANTED the writers to hear that i had read it and liked it. i just... didn't comment! u know what i did instead? i just fucking straight up DM'd writers on discord and started gushing to them that i liked their fic. somehow i was confident enough to do that, but writing a comment still felt like too much pressure. ?? i don't understand it either, but in my head it felt like a writing assignment, but when I was in DMs it felt more like a conversation and so there wasn't any pressure to make it "good"? idk!! it's very weird.

then i wrote and posted my first complete fic. just a oneshot, nothing special, and i was like. UNREASONABLY nervous about posting it. like. i am a confident person, okay? i was going to make a burner AO3 account and post it under a different name so nobody would know it was me, and then never mention it to anyone except MAYBE super close friends. i got talked out of doing that (thanks i feel a bit silly about considering that now). and then i received my first comment on it, which was basically a two-liner where someone said they liked it and thanked me for writing it.

and i was like. ??...?????? ???????? ...??!!! because i felt like... uncontainable glee? i was freakishly happy. the amount of serotonin those two sentences gave me was definitely unnatural.

is that healthy? idk. will it continue? idk. LOL. i hope so? but idk, some people said it wears off if you write/post for a while. but whatever, the fact that one little comment like that could make my entire day blew my mind. tbh i thought writers were just exaggerating when they said stuff like that.

ever since then i started leaving comments! that shit's easy! like what was i overthinking for? i'm such a fucking tryhard! all i gotta say is that i liked it, and even the bare minimum can bring lots of joy to someone.

so basically what im trying to say is that negative reinforcement doesn't do shit!! it just makes people feel bad about themselves. that post is nasty for guilt-tripping readers like that, and i bet you it's going to have the opposite effect (or no effect tbh).

YAPPING FINISHED. for now.

#fai talks #fandom meta

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lexosaurus · 2 days ago

Text

From Goth to Ghost

Here is my second fic for @ecto-implosion! I was so excited to get @blonchie's art for this round. It is sooooo fun and silly and ah it made for such a great writing experience! Please do yourself a favor and CHECK IT OUT!

Thank you to @lexiepiper and @fridurwrites for betaing!

Characters: Sam, Danny, Tucker Tags/warnings: No Warnings, Halfa!Sam (temporarily) Summary: The last thing Sam expected to wake up to was her body frozen on her bed. But unfortunately, thanks to a certain jock's midnight ponderings and the interference of one wish-granting ghost, that was exactly how she started off her morning.

[read on ao3]

[part 2]

****

In a land far, far away, a figure sat on his bed staring wistfully out his window. The moon gazed back at him, bright and round as it was. A shining beacon of hope for all teen boys around the globe. A message that no matter what trials lay ahead, they could face anything.

This boy in particular didn't just hear that message, but he internalized it deep inside his very soul. He pondered it, he tossed and turned it in his head, folding it gently like a baker mixing fluffy, delicate cake batter. He tasted it, added a pinch of salt, some sugar, a little more flour, mixing—but not over-mixing—until the batter was just right.

It was a powerful feeling, these sorts of deep, poetic thoughts. When most of his day was spent replaying football plays in his brain, or thinking of nicknames for a certain, dweeby classmate of his, having moments where he could just be one with his deepest thoughts was almost meditative.

Not that he meditated, of course. Meditating was for hippies and girls, and he was neither of these things.

For he was strong, he was powerful, and he was truly the master of his own brain. This was why, as he pondered the essence of the Universe and all its inhabitants, he was so lost in thought that he nearly missed the shooting star jetting across the sky.

But, of course, he didn't miss that shooting star—which could have been an airplane, actually—because he could never miss such fine, delectable details about life such as that.

Well, it didn't really matter if that shooting star was moving far too slowly to be a shooting star after all. Perhaps it was a satellite?

This was a topic that a certain nerd would know. Not that this boy cared at all about that dweeb.

Most important, was addressing the reason for all his pondering in the first place. Which was the fact that the local ghost boy was, confusingly, very attractive.

Which made no sense. Phantom was dead. And also a boy. And this intelligent, strong, charismatic soul pondering out his window was a boy, too, and also very much alive.

Was it gay if he was dead?

Either way, it didn't make any sense for him to be attracted to that ghost. Even if they were both very amazing, handsome guys, and even if maybe it would be very cool to date a hero.

Well, as this charismatic and kind young teen stared out his window at the passing definitely-not-a-satellite shooting star and the full moon beside it, an idea suddenly popped into his head.

It was a great idea, really, following the storybooks.

And so, Dash opened his mouth and wished upon a shooting star, "I wish Phantom was a chick."

****

"So you have wished it, so it shall be."

****

Something was off.

That was the first thing Sam knew, even before she was fully conscious. She lay there in her half-asleep daze, trying to fight the looming dread of her morning alarm, and the only thing that her brain could think of was the ever-encroaching feeling in her chest and mind that something, somewhere, was off.

But her alarm hadn't gone off yet, so really, what was there to worry about? It was probably just the vestiges of her mother's voice from last night needling her brain. Sam couldn't even remember now what they'd been arguing about—probably about her wardrobe, again—but either way, it wasn't important.

So, she fell back asleep.

...

And shot up in her bed.

Wait, why did it feel like she was breathing ice?

That wasn't right.

She placed a hand on her chest, and something pushed back.

She froze. Her blood ran cold.

Literally.

She froze herself to her bed.

Sam stared down at her frost-covered legs, her blanket doing little more to keep her warm than acting as a decorative set piece. Her jaw unhinged in a manner that would have had her mom screaming at her to mind your manners, young lady—but her screams were silent, and each breath sent shards of microscopic ice from her lips.

Her room's temperature plummeted, surely, but Sam could hardly feel it. In fact, it felt better to her now that the air was cold.

And then, her brain caught up, too quickly, and began moving light-years beyond her body. Because holy shit, she'd seen this before, she'd heard of this before, from one person, from Danny.

This she felt in her chest was a core. A ghost core. And this frost was ghost powers, and her ice was ecto-ice, and everything about her screamed Danny's ghost powers.

She must have been dreaming. That was right, she was definitely dreaming. There was no way she was a ghost. She hadn't died! She'd gone to sleep last night healthy and happy—okay, she'd gotten in a fight with her mom. But still! Her mom was a total Karen, but she wouldn't have killed Sam in her sleep. She was crazy, but not that kind of crazy.

Before her brain could spiral too far, the cursed sound of her alarm snapped her back to reality. Except, her hands had frozen to her pajamas.

And she had no idea how to turn her powers off.

Great. So, not only was she dead, but she was also cursed to be the most obnoxiously annoying haunted-mansion ghost that Amity Park's ever known.

Perfect. It was just what every goth always dreamed.

How did Danny turn this thing off? His powers tended to flare when he was agitated, which meant she just had to calm down.

Okay.

Yeah.

She could totally calm down.

She sat there, head spinning, the alarm still blaring, and half expecting her mother to storm the gate that was her bedroom door and demand Sam get out of bed right this instant, but no, that wasn't helping.

So she closed her eyes and breathed.

Just breathed.

She thought of a warm day. Even if the goth inside her wanted shadows, she thought of the sun. A human sun, on a warm day, with a full-blue sky that turned into a warm, summer night. Peaceful, surrounded by nature, roasting vegetarian hot dogs around the campfire with her two geeky homebody friends who'd finally put down their technology to join her in this moment.

Her fingers wiggled, and it took Sam a moment to realize that the ecto-frost was gone. When she opened her eyes, her clothing and bedding were dry like the frost had never been there to begin with.

But before she could wonder if she'd gone crazy, she felt another pulse from that alien chill in her chest, and reality hit her like a truck all over again.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

She shut off her alarm.

The world was finally, finally silent.

And Sam was afraid to move. Afraid that one wrong twitch would set off her new ghost powers again. Afraid that next time, her mother really was going to barrel through her door and gasp and faint because, "Oh, Sammykins! What happened to you?"

She looked at her hands, but human skin stared back at her.

Human skin. Not glowing, green-tinged ghost skin. Human skin.

She peeled back her comforter, but her legs didn't glow either. They were dressed in the same black and purple fleece pants she always wore to sleep. Not a ghost outfit, a human one.

What. The. Hell.

Without thinking, she grabbed her phone from her nightstand and swiped to the one name on her contact list she knew could help.

Or, she hoped.

The phone rang in her ear. One ring, two, then three. Sam's heart thudded in her ears. Wait, heart? Since when did she have a heart?

This idiot had better be awake.

Four rings, then five.

If she had a heart, then maybe she wasn't dead. Danny had a functioning heart, didn't he? Sam couldn't remember. His biology was so strange and inconsistent. Maybe he did, which meant that maybe Sam wasn't dead dead; maybe she was just a halfa!

But how?

On the sixth ring, he picked up. His voice was thick, full of unshed sleep as he mumbled in a scratchy, drawn-out voice, "Sam? Wha...?"

"Danny!" Sam could taste the relief on her lips. "Danny, I need your help. I don't—something—"

"Whoa." Danny's voice on the other end was low, and oddly alert.

But whatever issue he was having could hold off. "I don't know how to explain this! I just. You need to. Ugh, I don't know what's happening!"

"Wait," he said, almost distracted, as if he weren't actually talking to Sam.

No, her problems came first right now. "Danny, please!"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hang on, Sam, something—"

"I have a ghost core!"

"My core is missing!"

Silence echoed off the walls of the cell line between them. Sam's body was a cacophony of both wanting to breathe hard because that was what her body was used to, and also scoffing at the idea of breathing to calm down because breathing was pointless and she was a ghost, damnit! She could do better than that! Even though she wasn't a ghost. She was alive, she reminded herself.

Even if absolutely none of this should be possible.

It was Danny who broke the silence first. "Wait, what?"

Sam needed no further prompting to let the words spill from her mouth. "I have a ghost core now! I just woke up like this and I have no idea how it happened!"

To Sam's surprise, Danny began to laugh.

Genuinely laugh.

"What the hell, Danny?" Sam hissed. Around her, the lights flickered.

"No, sorry, it's just that I'm glad that this mystery is already halfway solved. If you were anyone else, I don't know what I would have done."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying my core is gone, Sam! Not off, but like, gone. It's not in my chest anymore. I'm human. But you have a ghost core. So somehow it seems like my core moved into your body."

Sam jerked back in bed, leaning against her disheveled cushions and scoffing. "That's ridiculous."

Danny didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, but my entire life is ridiculous. That's kind of part of the deal."

"Okay, fair. But still, what the hell am I going to do? I don't know how to use this core! I'm going to get discovered by first period!"

"Sam." Danny laughed. "Be real. I've transformed in the middle of the street and no one's ever caught me."

Well, he did have a point.

"Seriously, you'll be fine. And besides, even if you do accidentally turn invisible in front of someone, everyone in this town knows that when people get ecto-contamination, they sometimes show weird ghostly side effects. It wouldn't be too hard to say, oh I don't know, you accidentally dropped a beaker of one of my parents' inventions on you and you're just having some side effects while it wears off!"

If Sam wasn't trying to reassure herself that everything would be okay, she might have been impressed at how easily Danny thought of that simple lie. Impressed, and also maybe a little concerned.

"You'll be fine! Just hang tight ‘til we can figure out what's going on, anyway."

"Sure," she said. She breathed, releasing the knot in her stomach as she did. "Okay, okay, I'm good now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Okay, see you in a bit."

She clicked off before he could respond, and her phone slipped through intangible fingers, bouncing against her mattress and settling next to her leg.

She had ghost powers.

Not just any ghost powers, but Danny's ghost powers.

Somehow.

Inexplicably.

Neither of them had a single clue why, but somehow, they'd managed to swap human-halfa statuses.

So, Sam had Danny's ghost powers. His Phantom powers. The powers he, an overpowered halfa, used to fight other ghosts. And now, Sam had them in the palm of her hand.

Literally.

And she had to act normal.

Right. Yes. Yup, that was fine. This was all totally fine.

"Sammykins!" the nails-on-chalkboard sound of her mother's shrill voice called from the bannister. "Get up! You're going to be late for school!"

Sam could feel the ectoblast tingling at her fingertips.

But no, this wasn't a dangerous creature. Okay, her mother was absolutely a dangerous creature, especially when given the power of the PTA on her side.

Sam shuddered. The PTA was everyone in town's worst nightmare.

But still, this was her mother, a human. A very annoying, preppy woman. Not a dangerous ghost. So, she squashed the tingling of the ectoplasm and jumped from her bed. "I know!"

Showering was odd. More than odd, actually, it was downright outrageous.

The hot water licked her skin like fire. It was muggy, and the humidity, once relaxing, suffocated her. Her internal body temperature rose with each passing second, and where she used to cry a defensive, "Goths don't sweat, we simmer!" to those who would poke fun at her not-so-summer attire, now, that simmering felt more like actual boiling.

Her hand shot out and yanked the lever to the cold setting. Almost immediately, the water went from trying to slow-roast her alive, to gently kissing her skin.

She sighed, both relief and horror filling her at once.

Relief because wow, this cold shower was seriously amazing.

And horror because to her recollection, the only people on Earth who enjoyed icy cold showers were male social media influencers who posted about waking up at five in the morning for the daily rise and grind.

If ghost powers turned her into a rise and grinder, Sam was going to kill herself.

Miraculously, she managed to get through the morning without her mother noticing anything. Well, probably because Sam and her mother rarely if ever interacted face-to-face in the morning. If they did, all Pam could manage was a comment about how Sam's outfit wasn't ladylike, while Sam could only respond with a scowl in her mother's direction. So, for both of their sanities, they found it best to interact as little as possible before they had their morning coffees.

Intangibility only caused her to drop her spider backpack once before she was able to sling the straps over her shoulders. It really was such a pesky thing, and she almost regretted all the times when she'd made fun of Danny's sudden clumsiness post-accident.

Almost.

But not quite.

Because what were best friends for if not to make fun of each other?

"Bye, Mom!" she yelled to the empty air and then stepped through the threshold of the door.

Or, tried.

She hadn't meant to literally step through the threshold. As in, begin sinking through the floor.

Heart pounding, she swung her hands out and caught the side of the doorframe. Using a mix of adrenaline and physical training, she pulled her body back up. Her legs returned to the world of tangibility, and she sat on the floor, breathing rapidly.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

What the hell was that?

She'd just stepped through the floor. She'd just stepped through the floor.

"Sam!" yelled out a voice from the street.

She'd never been so thankful to see the obnoxious yellow of Tucker's sweater before.

She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat, and her vision began swimming. Had Danny told him? Or was Tucker blissfully unaware? How was Sam going to explain all this?

Thankfully, Sam was saved.

"Need some help?" Tucker asked. "Danny texted!"

Normally, she would have felt insulted that anyone dare ask if she needed help up. But this time? Screw it.

"Yeah, actually."

"Are you leaving?" Sam's mother called from the bathroom upstairs where Sam knew she was layering her face under a mountain of anti-ageing products.

"Yup! Going now!" Sam answered. "Tucker's here!"

"Tell him not to walk on the lawn! I just got it trimmed!"

Sam rolled her eyes, turning back to the sound of Tucker’s footsteps traversing up their flawlessly power-washed walkway.

"Here." He held out his arm. "Don't worry, no one's looking."

Once convinced she wasn't going to start sinking to the other side of the planet again, Sam gingerly stood and tested her feet against the floor.

Her brain was happy to report that the floor was, in fact, solid.

Thank goodness.

She made quick work of shutting the door behind her, darting off her property, and, most importantly, getting away from her mother's prying eyes.

Once they were safely on the other side of the tall, privacy hedges, she whipped around to face Tucker and said, "I don't know what the hell Danny told you, but I'm kind of freaking out right now."

"So is he," Tucker said. "He said he'd meet us at school, by the way. He's poking around in his basement for any leads and then is gonna get a ride from Jazz. But I'll be honest, I thought y'all were pulling my leg ‘til I saw you going through the floor."

"Yeah, this is legit." Sam stuck her palm out and let the cold crystals surface on her skin, gathering them until they formed a sheet of ice on her palm. She saw Tucker's eyes widen and heard a sharp inhale with her newly acquired acute hearing, but otherwise, he didn't say anything until she tipped her palm over and let the ice fracture on the ground.

"What the hell?" Tucker breathed.

"Right?" Sam groaned. "I don't know what I'm going to do! I only barely have a lid on these powers right now."

"You'll be fine. Danny was, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, but Danny's core was a lot weaker back then. I've got it at full power right now, and I have zero idea where the brakes are in this thing."

Tucker didn't seem fazed, his stride overly bouncy and dare Sam say joyful for the situation at hand. "Yeah, but you're way more athletic and into the whole occult thing than Danny is anyway. You're a goth! I'm sure you'll figure it out. And if it makes you feel better, Danny's transformed in broad daylight loads of times and nobody's noticed."

"Yeah, he mentioned that over the phone too."

"Right? You'll be fine."

"Thanks, Tuck," Sam said, then faltered, her body flickering out of visibility for a split second before she rounded on Tucker, mouth gaping. "Wait, were you, Tucker Foley, trying to make me feel better? Me, the ultra recyclo vegetarian? Doesn't that go against your meat code of ethics or something?"

"Yeah, I know, right? What has the world come to where I'm out here consoling you? Tragic times and all."

Sam slugged his arm playfully.

"Don't tell Danny or he'll never let me live it down," Tucker added.

Sam snorted, adjusting her purple spider backpack straps and bounding forward. They walked in a comfortable silence for half a minute before Tucker broke her tranquility to talk about some game he was playing (badly, Sam mentally thought). He narrated his great epic about how much he'd grinded until he found some hack—a hack that Sam knew he didn't actually find but probably read about on Reddit—and at that point Sam was forced to interject because if Tucker had just played the game's tutorial properly or not skipped over all the cutscenes, he would have known a far easier way to level up than grinding those low-level monsters he'd been fighting and—ugh, Tucker could be so infuriating sometimes.

"See, I know you're mad at me right now because your eyes are literally glowing."

"I'm not mad at you!" Sam argued, pinching the bridge of her nose like she'd seen Danny do dozens of times to calm his eyes down. It didn't feel like it was doing much for her, though. "I just can't believe you're seriously so inept that you're resorting to digging for hacks on Reddit instead of just playing the game properly! See, this is why you suck at gaming. I don't play video games nearly as much as you but I always kick your ass because I try."

"And I don't?" Tucker said, affronted.

"No! You just look for cheats!"

"Because I'm working smarter, not harder!"

"And that's why you never get any better!"

They rounded the corner, and the school campus began peeking into view.

"Oh shit, hang on. I need to make my eyes stop glowing." Sam turned around to face the window of a closed store. Her reflection was faint, but even then she could see her eyes glowing fiercely. "Shit. How do I turn this off?"

"Don't be such a hothead."

Sam stamped her foot. "I'm not a hothead!"

"Oh damn, what am I walking into?" said a voice that had never filled Sam with so much relief as it did now.

A hand touched her shoulder, and Sam peered through her bangs to see the bright blue eyes of Danny Fenton. She took a deep breath from her gut just like she'd always practiced in her weekly yoga classes and felt the power recede into her body.

"Hey, Danny," she said sheepishly.

"You looked like you were about to punch Tucker through the window."

"I did want to punch Tucker through the window."

"What did that poor window ever do to you?" Tucker quipped.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's the window I was arguing with. You were just the projectile, for sure."

"Seems like you got pretty good control over these powers, though," Danny said, eyeing her up and down.

Sam imagined he was expecting to find her in his typical state: covered in some amount of blood, ectoplasm, and dirt. Fortunately, she'd managed to make it to school unscathed.

"Oh no, you totally missed the part where she literally ate shit going through her door," Tucker cackled, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. "It was amazing. You should have been there. I've never seen our girl look so uncoordinated in her life."

Sam didn't even try to suppress the glow from her eyes as she rounded back on their very annoying friend and glared. "Another word and I will throw you through this window!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure you will!"

Danny stuck his hand out and flicked Tucker's cheek. "So, we going to class or what? Bell's about to ring and if I get one more tardy this week, Lancer said I'll owe him a Saturday detention."

Sam steeled herself, looking across the street at her biggest adversary this year: the school. "Fine, let's go."

****

Somehow, Sam prevailed through homeroom without falling through her chair. Although, her new ghost core had certainly threatened to send her ass not just through her chair, but into the goddamn floor multiple times.

She had also managed to weather their English written check-in on the assigned book they were reading. Or, the book that some of them had been reading. Sam, of course, was one of the people who had legitimately read it. Persepolis was an easy read, after all, with it being a graphic novel and all. And besides, Sam could never call herself a feminist if she neglected to read the stories of women from other parts of the world.

On the other hand, Sam was pretty sure that both Danny and Tucker had thoroughly failed the open response question, even with her giving a verbal synopsis of the book before class had started.

"Wait, who's Ebi?" Tucker had asked.

Sam wanted to throttle him. "He's Marji's father!"

"Who's Marji?" Danny asked.

"The main character, Danny. "

Yeah, they'd definitely failed the check-in.

But since the class had finished early, they had the rest of the period to chat. Or, in Sam's case, sit there trying to stay visible and in her chair.

"You have too much energy," Danny explained, looking thoroughly too unconcerned for their current predicament as he doodled spirals in the margins of his notebook. "You just need to burn it off."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Sam asked. "We're in fucking school!"

"You can do it after school."

"Wow, gee, you're so helpful. I'm so glad you told me this at the beginning of the school day instead of, you know, texting me or something before school!"

"I forgot," Danny said, waving his hand as if to shoo her away.

"You're useless is what you are."

And he truly was. For as long as Danny had ghost powers, Sam realized that he didn't actually understand them to a shocking degree. Well, he was a boy after all, and boys could be a bit dense. Then again, there was a bit dense and then there was Danny, who seemed like such an airhead at times, that Sam was concerned that all those ghost fights had knocked all his brains from his skull.

"You'll figure it out," is what Danny said.

Sam did not win the fight to resist throwing her pencil at him.

Mr. Lancer, who seemed to have a knack for turning his head to see the exact moment when a student was breaking a rule, tilted his head in an expression that plainly read: are you fucking serious?

"Sorry!" Sam called. "Danny was being annoying!"

"When isn't Fentwerp being annoying?" Dash snickered.

Danny glared at Dash. "I'll stop being annoying if you take this pencil and shove it up your—"

"Boys!" Lancer's voice boomed through the classroom. "It's too early for this. Stop."

Dash grumbled something under his breath but otherwise turned back to his conversation with Kwan.

"And Ms. Manson," Lancer added, his expression rotating to its previous exasperation, "please don't throw pencils in my classroom."

"Fine, sorry," Sam said without conviction.

Apparently, though, that was enough for Mr. Lancer, who seemed content to return his attention down to the stack of papers and the red pen in his fingers.

"You are annoying me, you know," Sam told Danny. "Seriously, you haven't given me one bit of useful advice this entire day."

"Yeah, well, I don't know. I'm not a god, you know." Then he paused his doodling, chuckling to himself. "I'm not Clockwork."

"Clockwork, oh gracious god of time!" Tucker raised his hands up to the ceiling. "If you can hear us, please do grace us with your presence so Miss Sammykins can not eat shit on the floor! Even if from a purely objective standpoint that would be incredibly funny!"

"No it would not be!" Sam hissed.

Danny glanced up. "He's not gonna come for this, you know. He wouldn't even show up when Vlad had kidnapped me in his basement that one time."

Sam and Tucker rounded on him, simultaneously crying, "He did what?"

Once again, Danny looked far too unconcerned. "Oh yeah, he was trying to get my mid-morph DNA. Did I not tell you about that? The loser was using it for his stupid clone project. Seriously, he's such a creep."

"Oh, so that's how Danielle got stabilized? Vlad stole your mid-morph DNA after he kidnapped you?" Tucker asked.

"Yup."

Sam realized her mouth was gaping like a fish, and she forced her jaw back together. "Your life is so fucked up, you know that?"

Danny just continued doodling in his notebook. "Yeah, well, now you have my core so...good luck!"

If luck was what she needed, then she was about to cast every Wiccan spell she knew to get it.

Fortunately, she managed to stay mostly intact through the rest of the period. Though, her legs did flicker in and out of visibility a few times. They were under her desk, so no one could see. But for good measure, she stole Tucker's jacket to cover her lap like a blanket, much to his protest.

A blunt "you'll live" was just about all the sympathy that he'd gotten from Sam.

As the day droned on, Sam began to get used to the core in her chest. It was a constant cold presence that seemed to send chill gusts anytime it was looking to cause mayhem in the form of intangibility or invisibility. And once she recognized the feeling of that cool energy balling up, she began learning how to brace herself for when it striked.

Of course, she wasn't successful in stopping all the cool gusts of energy. She was a novice, after all. But she was very proud of herself that she'd managed to begin teaching herself the first steps.

And also, very annoyed because that meant Danny's nails-on-chalkboard advice of "you'll figure it out" actually had some merit to it.

Not that she'd ever admit that to him. He and his advice could eat rocks for all she cared.

Point was, she had actually begun to get a grasp on whatever the hell was going on with her body. In the half hour before the lunch bell, she'd even started to hone her new abilities enough to make tiny ecto-ice crystals in the palm of her hand under her desk. She was at least partially certain that she could make these crystals on a bigger scale given the opportunity, but for some reason, she didn't think her teachers or the school administration would appreciate a seemingly-human student erecting giant crystals of unmeltable ice in the middle of their classrooms.

Though, their reactions would be very funny.

When the lunch bell rang, Sam was—for the first time—the first person out of the room, darting through the halls as if she'd personally been victimized by that biology class. Which, given the amount of worksheets that teacher loved to hand out, wasn't actually too far off from the truth.

Regardless, Sam was already halfway down the hall before she remembered to sling her spider backpack over both shoulders. She was the first to claim refuge in the trio's normally near-empty table, and given her boys seemed to be really taking their time today, to refrain from squirming in her seat like a toddler, she hid one hand in her lap and willed an ice crystal to her fist. This time, she was testing to see if she could make a simple shape with it. A flat disc, she decided.

The crystal that formed wasn't exactly the smooth, flat disc she'd been envisioning. It was a bit rough, and it wasn't that thin either. But it wasn't like the round, perl-like ecto-ice that she'd willed to existence on a previous attempt. This one was different, and different meant that she was improving.

"You surviving?" a voice called over her shoulder.

She startled, getting so consumed by the ecto-ice, that she forgot that she'd been waiting for her friends to arrive.

"Barely, but I'm doing it," she responded to Tucker, who'd practically fallen into his normal lunch seat.

"Well, that makes one of us. I thought Mr. Falluca was actually trying to murder us with the amount of homework he assigned."

"Tuck, he gave time in class to do it."

"And I clearly didn't work on it during class. That's what I have you for!" He leaned forward and pressed his fingers into a prayer. "I have you here to lend me your answers!"

Sam frowned. "And what are you offering in return?"

"A free hug?"

"Yeah, I don't think so"

"I know, I was just messing with you." Tucker grinned. "How about the bio homework?"

Sam tapped her chin, pretending to think about it. "Well, well, well, Mr. Foley. You've got yourself a deal." She stuck her hand out, and Tucker was quick to grasp her palm and shake her one hand with his two in an exaggerated motion.

"Thanks, Sam! You're the best."

"Well," Sam said, taking her hand back. "Don't thank me yet. You still have to do the bio homework. Knowing that class, that could be a whole thing."

"It's fine. Bio homework is usually fast for me."

"We're talking about Bio?" Danny asked, placing his lunch tray down and taking his seat across the table.

Sam looked over, brightening. "Oh hey, Danny! Yeah, we are. Unfortunately."

Danny suddenly looked like he wanted to throw up. "Ugh, hate that class."

"Don't we all?" Tucker lamented

"I don't even know what we're learning right now," Danny said

"I don't think anyone knows," Tucker said.

"And you're doing my homework for me?" Sam asked as Tucker shoveled a bite of food into his mouth.

He chewed for a moment as if to be polite, and then decided to abandon that idea and talk with a full mouth instead. "Don't worry, I'll figure it out. I always do!"

"Gross," Sam scoffed. "I don't need to see your gory, spit-covered meat disaster."

"The school's gory, spit-covered meat disaster, actually." Tucker gestured to his lunch tray.

"That doesn't make it any better."

"Guys," Danny interrupted, his face contorting into that exasperated expression it always did when she and Tucker started fighting about food. "Seriously? If you two get into this, Sam's eyes are gonna turn green again."

Sam squeezed the edges of the ecto-ice in her palms, anticipation clawing at her skin. "Actually, I've made some progress with it."

Danny perked up. "With figuring out how to switch things back to normal?"

"No. Better! I've starting figuring out how these powers work." Sam presented her palm to the two boys, the misshapen ice-disc proudly on display.

It took Sam a moment too late to realize that she probably looked like a toddler presenting their scribbled drawing to their parents that could be either a human or a cat depending on which angle the parent was looking at the scribbles from.

And she could see in their faces that this was exactly how Tucker and Danny were taking it. From Danny, a police nod at her lump of ice, and from Tucker, a squint through his glasses and a look that said, "huh?"

"The ice," Sam explained. "I've started to figure out how to shape and size it."

"Oh, that makes a lot more sense," Danny said, clearly relieved.

"Yeah, I thought all that ectoenergy managed to loosen a few screws, if you know what I'm saying." Tucker circled his pointer finger around the size of his head in the universal crazy gesture. "But, uh, congrats?"

"That awesome, Sam! Jeez, you're picking this up fast. It took me weeks before I figured out how to not turn the entire room into a blizzard whenever I turned the powers on."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm just copying you." Sam shrugged, placing the ice on the table. She stabbed her lettuce with her fork and held it in the air for a moment, amusement seeping into her at Danny who scooped the ice up like a dog being given a new squeaky toy for its birthday.

He turned it around in his fingers, inspecting every scratch in the ice. "Hey, this is actually pretty good. It takes a while to get the hang of it. You really have to be specific on how you picture the item. Well, at first anyway. Over time, it gets a lot easier. But when I was first starting out, I had to clear my brain out before I made anything."

"Clearing your brain out? That shouldn't be too hard for you. There's nothing there to begin with."

Danny shot Tucker a glare. "Very funny."

"Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all night."

Sam ignored him. "I just need to practice." She shivered, and intangibility threatened to send her crashing to the ground. It took all her might to stave it off. "And, I need to burn this energy off. Hey, can you show me how right after school? Since we have no idea how long we'll be switched like this and all."

"Yeah, sure," Danny said.

Sam straightened, and began eating her salad with newfound vigor. She was going to burn the energy off regardless, but having someone there to coach her and help her control it would be immensely helpful.

All she had to do was make it through the rest of her school day.

****

part 2 >

#danny phantom #ectoimplosion2024 #phicc #my writing #sam manson #halfa sam

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