#does any of this make sense or am I being insane? or maybe it doesn’t even matter

[tinylittlemexican]

Not me screaming “make me feel like a woman” to no one while fucking myself stupid. This just in, fantasizing getting fucked by a stud reaffirms your gender. HDKDJFJF

I think really what I’m realizing is I have unfortunately surrounded myself with too many white queers and I think that’s what’s been stressing me out lately that and my OCD decided to hyperfixate on my gender and sexuality so that’s fun. But recently I’ve been thinking a lot about how I view womanhood and how even tho I am not part of the white cishetero idea of a woman I am part of Mexican American womanhood and how integral finding that part of myself is. In my culture and in my family, being a woman was to be strong, independent, hardworking, determined, and loving. The women in my family had all been through so much and it was the women in my family that uplifted us and lead us to prosperity. Of course my womanhood comes from that love and sacrifice! I had been saying a lot how I felt outside of the non-binary identity recently and maybe it’s like when I found my home again in my femme identity after rejecting my love for wearing dresses and feminine clothing but also filling in my eyebrows and mustache (my very very very pathetic wisp of a mustache BUT SHES THERE). It just didn’t feel right since my womanhood is so important to me and such a deeply ingrained part of me. And I think also when you grow up a Catholic Mexican there is this suppression to be strong but not too strong, to always sacrifice for your husband and family but then the Chicano revolution happened and the Mexican American identity was born out of the rejection of white cishet culture and the ridged norms of our cultural identity! Pachucas were out there wearing men’s suits and perfectly bouffant hair and dramatic bold makeup for gods sake!! It is the type of womanhood I was raised on to admire! There are times I still don’t feel like a woman but it’s more to do with dissociation being trapped in a white American world then it does with my own discomfort of being identified as a woman. I think it’s also why going on T for me was a way for me to bring those worlds of masculine and feminine traits into one entity within me so I can feel more comfortable in my femininity. I didn’t feel “cool enough” by other queer peoples perception of gender. Because how does that make sense? I want to take T to express my femininity more? I feel like I was trying to cut off bits of myself that I treasure too! But it does make sense to me! And isn’t that what matters? I feel lacking in my womanhood and femininity because I can’t grow body hair, because I have dysmorphia over my genitals, because I am not an hourglass curvy type of fat and because I am afraid that my womanhood and femininity will be denied once I embrace my masculinity and once again leave me feeling like I have no identity. I have broad shoulders and take up space, I am loud and rambunctious and I have desires and dreams and strong opinions like the Mexican women before me. I realize I cannot find identity in white spaces because they were never crafted with me in mind or how I perceive myself or my personal complex relationship to my gender. I don’t know, maybe this is stupid and maybe I’m wrong about something but for now this is how I am voicing my feelings about myself and my identity. It’s my own personal bullshit and damnit I’m just trying to figure it out. I also think I should have voiced more about how I feel about gender so maybe one day someone other brown queer would see it and say “hey I know how you feel!” And at last I wouldn’t feel so alone

[vaguely-concerned]

Eight Little Talons Reread Thoughts

Which, I’ll level with you folks, is mostly just me gushing about Teia and Viago and how much they should kiss because of who I am as a person, but maybe also some actual observations sprinkled in. This is still my favourite story in Tevinter Nights, I think, there’s so much Character Stuff in it. Let’s go!

Viago hated carriages—no amount of plush seating could make up for the inevitable ache of being knocked around like weighted dice. But decorum insisted, and he would not be outclassed by his fellow Talons.

Vs.

“You didn’t take a carriage.” 

“My luggage did. But I couldn’t resist the opportunity for a country jaunt.” She nodded toward the thoroughbred Taslin strider grazing on the top of the hill. “Andoral so rarely gets a chance to let loose in Rialto.” 

“You named your horse after an archdemon?” 

“Don’t worry, Vi. I won’t let him nip you.

You know… Andarateia might gain some illusion of normalcy by standing next to the most paranoid wound-up-tight repressed man around to provide contrast, but I think it’s crucial we keep in mind that she is also nuts. Naming your horse after an archdemon IS an insane thing to do in the world of Thedas huh. I suppose she genuinely seems to think of Caterina Dellamorte as a warm maternal figure and is in love with a tetchy snake of a guy too, it does all start to add up when you look at it like that.

— Beneath the smooth samite, he felt like a sinewy ball of tension. Teia suspected contact of any kind made Viago uncomfortable. It would explain why he swathed himself in indigo from chin to toe and refused to remove his gloves during dinner.

He offers his arm to her and doesn’t pull away when they meet Caterina — only when Dante shows up. Interesting (and possibly part of why Caterina seems to consider the two of them a cleverly stabilizing package deal when they get along lol). I love the mix of playful seduction and genuine fond, intimate knowledge and interest Teia has for him all the way through too — speculating about his childhood, trying to divine his thoughts and intentions, testing to see how he reacts to different things. And it’s so sweet that she seems to regard him with this affectionate amusement and fascination (which he seems to be afraid means that she’s mocking him but is, I think, just another level of appreciation she has for him. Correctly. Because he’s one of the funniest people in Thedas both in concept and in practice. Accountant brained-ass noodle arm Vetinari homage poison specialist. Teia’s neurotic purse dog of a man. Sole royal bastard who willingly chose to have a boring Antivan day job (killing people) and makes spreadsheets about it.) 

— “Not exactly welcoming, are they?” Teia whispered, her breath warm against his ear. 

Viago’s grip tightened on the head of his walking stick.

I swear to god courtney woods is so fucking good at writing romantic and sexual tension. One sentence!!! She drops in a one-sentence detail and it says everything!!!! She has such a knack for consistently adding these details without getting overindulgent or spelling it out too much that I really admire, I tend a bit more towards indulging too much as a writer that way myself so her sense of where to show restraint has me in awe 

— “Don’t ‘Nonna’ me, Andarateia Cantori,” Caterina snapped, although the heat in her voice had lowered to a simmer. “Not even my actual grandchildren call me that.” 

“Well, considering who your grandchildren are,” Teia responded, “I’m not surprised.” 

“How is Master Lucanis?” Viago asked.

Hell yeah Lucanis mention! Can’t wait to see how their dynamics will turn out in-game, we could be in for some truly spectacular and absurd workplace comedy nonsense if we’re lucky

— As always, Viago had with him his leather case of poisons and antidotes for toxins typically hidden in ingredients such as olives, truffles, pasta, lamb, cheese, cream, and alcohol. But he had not expected eggplant.

This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever read, I love Viago so much he’s such a perfect weirdo. Reader, he had not expected eggplant. 

— Taking a deep breath, Viago focused on tying his cravat—an ordinarily simple task except now Teia was running her hands across every surface in his room, and his fingers kept slipping on the final knot. “It would help if you removed the gloves,” Teia remarked. “Surely your own cravats haven’t been tampered with.”

Viago being just… seethingly horrifically despairingly horny every time Teia shows up is so amazing, and Teia clearly paying A Lot of attention to his hands and his reactions at all times… again, courtney woods s tier sexual tension provider. 

— “No,” she said, crossing her arms. “Not until we boil some water.” 

Viago raised a brow. “Eight people were poisoned in this room.” 

“Then run your little tests to make sure it’s safe, but I refuse to look at another dead body until I’ve had my coffee.”

I must take care to repeat: teia is also fucking nuts (affectionate). It’s SO FUNNY that her slightly lighter and softer moral take on being a Crow means she does feel bad about the servants ending up in the crossfire, but she will also demand that viago make her coffee with their horrifically bloated corpses still strewn about the room fhdsjka. 

— Teia had often imagined what it would be like to kiss Viago. She told herself it was only natural. He was handsome, in his own way, and wound up so tight that she likened him to a giant knot. He was a challenge to untie—to twist and pull and loosen until the tension gave way and he unraveled, laying bare all his secrets. But knots were a delicate business. Tug the wrong way and you could end up with a noose.

I know I KNOW they have sex so weird and intimate and no one even takes their clothes off during it I know it in my heart

— “Do you not think you’re attractive?” Viago turned on her, his ears pink. “Ten people are dead.” 

She didn’t back down. “And whoever’s responsible will pay, but that has no bearing on this conversation.” 

“It could be me.” 

Covering her mouth with both hands, Teia doubled over, laughter spilling from her lips. “It’s not you.” 

He looked as if she’d slapped him. “I’m more than capable of killing everyone here.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re offended!” 

“It is offensive,” Viago protested. “Professionally.”

Teia please tell me you love me not only for my body and fashion sense and numerous and fascinating neuroses but also my extensive knowledge of poisons and capacity to cause death

— Again, Viago felt like a lute string. With every challenge, Teia twisted the pegs, tuning him, until she found what she wanted. Which is what, exactly? he asked himself, not daring to listen to the number of answers that bubbled to the surface of his mind.

You know Viago I think we should let her try some scales here at least. See what happens. (There’s no explicit sex in this story but everything that’s going on is nevertheless so kinky fdsjak. I think Teia could convince Viago to show a flash of his naked wrist and have a reaction like a sheltered young Victorian gentleman seeing an exposed ankle and a playful wink for the first time)

— As if she could feel the sudden rush of shame within him, Teia brought her hands up to rest on Viago’s hips, holding him in place. His thumb stilled as he realized her breath was short. Her pupils dilated. Before he could stop himself, Viago nuzzled his forehead against hers, his nose brushing her cheek. Teia’s hands snaked up his chest to run through his hair. She tugged him forward. He braced himself on one arm, while the other curled around the small of her back. 

This whole scene is unspeakably good of course but it’s always the detail of ‘his nose brushing her cheek’ that does me in the most. The longing!!! The yearning, the intimacy, the awkward perfect clumsy physical reality of it!!!! If he kissed her here the magical potion thing on her lips would have been immaterial, the results would have been the same without it!!!!!! The tug of war between longing and fear!

— oblique Zevran mention! <3 as the ultimate failson of house arainai, granted, but as I believe he might argue here: ‘ah, but you have heard of me, no? :>’. Babe I support you so much go out there and raise hell/kill whoever you want to I got your flower

— Big shoutout to the author for managing to pull off an entirely workable ‘And Then There Were None’ plot in the background here, even though the real meat and potatoes going on is the character and relationship development (and what meat and potatoes they are too)! It’s not an easy thing to do even in an abbreviated, more of a homage sort of form and balancing it with everything else going on is a feat

— Caterina 100% knows Teia is in Viago’s room when he’s supposed to be isolated and just doesn’t care lmao. (They act like such teenagers in that scene where she knocks on the door and they haven’t even kissed yet I’m dying). Caterina seems like a terrible person but it’s impossible to not feel for her a little, trying to keep Talons in line seems a lot like herding (very horny very carrying sharp objects) cats 

— Standing outside her ex-lover’s room, Teia tried to quell the violent drumming within her. Normally, she didn’t need to come down from a physical encounter. Seduction—like any form of manipulation—was about control. She could enjoy herself, but Teia always made sure to hold the upper hand. Viago had shattered that control without so much as a kiss.

I feel like this is a sneaky common trait that actually is part of what makes them so compatible (and the playful negotiation of which must feature prominently in their sex life eventually lmao): they are both HUGE control freaks. (Indeed it might be hard to be a successful Talon without this trait.) Teia and Viago both strive for control of themselves and their surroundings so deeply, she’s just much more extroverted, psychologically minded and soft power focused going about it (not unlike Caterina, whose power is built more on fear than charm but works along the same lines), while he’s more coldly intellectual and uh materialist? I want to call it? about it. Which makes perfect sense considering their backstories! Teia came from nothing in a monetary sense but has found she excels at moving people, hearts and minds style — and she’s very good at it, she is everyone’s favorite — so that’s the source of power for her, and Viago is not very charismatic or interested in people naturally but grew up seeing how status, wealth and power have their own clinical gravity that can be used, and also that people can never be trusted to watch out for you in that system.  

If Thedas has a Machiavelli-equivalent to ask whether it’s better for a ruler to be feared or loved they would both instantly give their answer with their whole chest and then squint at each other like ‘babe how do you live like this’ lol

(Also this line of thought has me wondering what the hell Caterina’s partner/spouse(s) would have been like — she must have at least two children to account for Illario and Lucanis, I wonder if she was ever married and what that looked like.)

— I really like the oppressiveness and claustrophobia you get from the descriptions Teia uses in Dante’s room — it feels so icky and sticky with history and sad and confining, and the way she keeps pushing herself through it anyway is weirdly melancholy to me. 

— I also like how their flaws/traits that drive them apart at the crisis point have follow-up consequences outside of their relationship before they reconcile. Teia’s penchant for manipulation and pushing on people indirectly causes the death of someone she once cared about (I mean, fuck that guy, not crying any tears for Dante or his broken bottle, but like in the overarching principle of the thing lol). When she goes too far with it or gets careless, she renders other people vulnerable and helpless in ways she doesn’t anticipate. (Rightfully or not this seems to be part of what scares Viago so much about it, he has this fear of being dissected for whatever she finds interesting and then abandoned when she’s tired of it, the whole underlying being a footnote in her life when she could clearly be something uh a lot more in his anxiety.) Meanwhile Viago’s insistence on self-reliance and reluctance to engage in human contact leaves him easily isolated and nearly results in his death. (And even when Teia saves him he has a hard time giving her full credit in favour of his many neurotic coping mechanisms lmao disaster man.) But when the two of them work it out to understand each other better and come together as a partnership, they’re such a force to be reckoned with that it brute forces the resolution and return to stability near the end. (Well. A significantly reduced version of stability to be fair but y’know better late than never.)

— Also: delicious detail that she is actually the closest you might get to a self-made woman/Talon, and he is definitely at least not in a position to fully dodge the nepo baby allegations — he wants so bitterly to be entirely independent and self-sufficient and not reliant on anyone, and yet it’s his connections inherent to his birth that have helped him get here, while she wants so desperately to have people to rely on because she comes from nothing and has known what it is to be that alone and unprotected. He knows protection and gifts — and love — can easily be taken away and used to control you/render you helpless in your vulnerability from how his father treated his mother, and she knows you have to try to hold on to something in other people or it’s just you and the dirt and you die. Which is what they’re really talking about in that scene where they argue, and it’s why they’re both right and wrong at the same time and it’s so tasty. It’s really Teia asking ‘Will you ever trust anyone? (will you ever trust me, or will you put up this wall every time no matter what I say or do?)’ and Viago going ‘Will you never take precautions to protect yourself against this hurt? (will I have to be the bearer of bad news about how the world really is every time?)’ and neither of them realize that’s what they’re taling about and it’s why it all explodes so badly. (I mean. Factually both came to the wrong conclusion about who the murderer was for fairly good reasons, so there’s also that haha.) 

— I wonder if we’ll see Bolivar or the heirs to the houses left Talon-less in the game itself. I’m guessing they probably won’t have big roles, at least, but you know just as background flavour, especially since Crow!Rook is already within the de Riva uh household as it were. I think Viago is still sensibly mid-table at Fifth Talon in Veilguard and Teia remains Seventh? So at least they’re not messing around with that rank order during the occupation 

— In semi-not teia and viago news (I am a character first writer and reader I canot change this), it’s neat to see it outlined just how much the Talons really are just merchant princes with some more added knives and cultural weight behind them. They are at the end of the day running businesses, no matter the mystique ™ you wrap it in. (Which I think Viago would be the first to tell you and Teia might try to argue against at least a little haha. Being a Talon is what you make of it you live your truth girl kill awful men you’ll never run out of contracts!!)

— Can’t believe the Crows have self-congratulatory ‘top 10 murders in history!’ classes as part of the training. Do you think Zev sat through those. Probably, if Teia did, right. Now there were some entertaining hours around the campfire during the Blight I’m sure

— Viago understanding but not accepting Teia’s offer to help him with an alibi and at first angling it as being out of hesitancy to accept help/rely on someone, and then later unveiling the added element that he knows Teia respects and loves Caterina and doesn’t want her to have to lie to her for him… Viago is nothing so simple as secretly nice deep down but he IS horrifically in love with and desperate to be kind to specifically Teia and it gets to me okay  

— I’d forgotten that DA’s passionate love affair with toxic yuri and some recreational bury your gays extended to Guili and Lera in this fdskjah. Would it really be Thedas without it I suppose (considering the genre of the short story it’s fine with me in this case, though, everyone’s dropping like flies in this even the straight people that’s just equality) 

— Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. What Teia had elicited in him was akin to an internal natural disaster.

I simply love him so so much. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. He failed to account for the eggplant. He’s so annoyed at being poisoned and dying horribly and it literally never occurs to him that anyone would help him until he wakes up in Teia’s lap. He organizes all his poisons by puns. He uses his potentially last breath to argue with Teia about his precise state of dress or undress. Have we finally found him, the perfect man? 

(Also between Reyes and Viago Courtney Woods does such a good line in guys who’d really rather be emotionless machines of practical violence and monetary gain but find themselves down so horrifically catastrophically bad that it cracks them open to reveal a soul they aren’t all that happy to discover they have lol) 

— When Viago woke, it felt like someone had drained the blood from his body and replaced it with sludge. But it wasn’t all bad—someone who smelled like coffee and cinnamon was playing with his hair. . . . Her fingers resumed stroking his hair. It felt better than the water. It felt better than anything.

Unspeakable. Don’t look at me. 

— Viago reaching out and touching Teia’s cheek with his bare hands without a thought and all his tenderness and reverence for her laid bare in turn is something that can actually be so personal and it only took very nearly dying to get there (also… he’s presumably still half-naked through all of this while cradled in her lap. Amazing.). Can’t believe bare hands to cheek feels like third base with these two. And his fucking THOUGHTS through all of this… Don’t cry, he doesn’t deserve your tears, no one does (I don’t, I don’t want to be something that causes you pain) AOUGH

— Vaguely related: the implication in how that part is built is that he’s reaching out specifically to gently dry away her tears, right. Double AOUGHHHHHH not only does he manage to not be selfish or unfair in asking her not to cry he does that instead… there’s hope for you yet messere de riva  

— Teia with the red-hot poker standing guard over Viago while he ‘looks like a king in judgement’ and does the Poirot in the library exposition is everything and so hot what the fuck. She a snacc she attacc but most importantly… she protecc, she’s so fucking cool lol. they’re both really smart, but she’s clearly the brawn as well as the social skills (hey manipulation is such an ugly word!) and he’s the logistics and realpolitik on two long thin nerdy legs, absolute power couple. She’s the gaslight he’s the girlboss together may they gatekeep this invading army out of antiva  

— You guys… this might come as a surprise I have tried to keep it on the down low but. I really do love the world of Thedas so very much. I love the people and the places and the history and the stupidness and the brilliance so much. We must save the world because everyone I love lives here. Let this be a secret between just you and me we can’t let people know we sit/have emotions etc.  

— A servant approached to take the cage in Viago’s hand. 

“Careful,” Viago warned. “He bites.” 

“I can’t believe you’re keeping that snake,” Teia said, shaking her head. “It almost killed you.” 

“Which is more than any man can say. He deserves my respect. And a good home—with all the mice he can eat.” 

“But did you have to name it Emil?” Teia asked, making a face. 

“An homage. You’re always telling me to recognize my fellow Talons.”

Andarateia ‘names her horse after an archdemon’ Cantori x Viago ‘keeps the deadly adder that nearly killed him as a pet and names it after the last guy who failed to murder him’ de Riva. Freak well and truly matched. Soulmates, no notes, I’ll do borderline anything for these two to make it, goodnight. 

[lucystark12]

milevens are insane

warning now - i get extremely heated in this so if you're going to tell me to calm down leave. before any of you weird bitches tell me to go do something more productive or to touch grass- no. i'm fifteen, it's summer, and i'm a highly involved high school student. i'm not here because i have nothing better to do, i'm here because i understand good writing and am able to have hobbies ❤️

anyways

was on the mileven endgame hashtag just now and because i don't choose violence i wont be addressing any of them directly, but i will be addressing some of the ridiculous bullshit on there. term bullshit used intentionally

the love confession came as a result of mike "gaining the confidence" to tell el how much he loves her because he was afraid that he loved her more than she loved him.

are you listening to the words that are coming out of your mouth right now? i want to sit down and get a coffee with you and dissect what the fuck you meant by that. sure, right, yeah, he gained so much PRODUCTIVE confidence from his conversation he had with will where will was using eleven to mask his own feelings for mike. it makes so much sense narratively that this end all be all mileven event is sparked from will's feelings and not mikes! sure! right! this is such an idiotic piece of reasoning. you are literally saying that you are okay with your endgame ship only being endgame based on faulty communication and lies. are you joking? "you just gotta improve your motivation" ass piece of evidence

also, mike being insecure about loving her more than she loves him is complete, total, utter bullshit. el frequently expresses her love to mike via letters and youre here to say that mike would have any problem with doing the same thing if he were insecure about her love for him? that literally makes no sense. i wouldn't be afraid of loving somebody more than they love me if they are actively putting more effort into insuring me that they love me than i am to them. like, what does that even mean?

“Will Byers is a pathetic loser annoying character and contributed little to the plot of ST. "

yes that is a direct quote. no i'm not kidding.

what kind of fucking neanderthal watches stranger fucking things- a show about a kid who disappears- and thinks the kid who disappears isn't a central part of the narrative? the first episode of the goddamn show is called "the vanishing of will byers"! maybe this is hard for you and your confused brain to get your head around, but el and mike met when mike was out looking FOR WILL. mike and el are still together because mike gained courage from WILL'S LOVE FOR HIM. what a fucking idiot you must be. i would try to explain to you the myriad of other reasons why will is absolutely central to the plot of the show, but since the show itself has clearly gone in one ear and out the other, i probably wont be able to get through to you either.

“what if we learned to cope with world that doesn’t accept us as individuals by embracing each other completely?” said about mileven

um.. what. that's literally byler. closeted gay guys in the 80s. but sure, the ones that aren't being accepted are the two white and allegedly heterosexual individuals. the "world that doesn't accept us" in question is a few high school bullies in comparison with the stigmatization, violence, and ostracization that has longstanding been a part of what it means to be queer. be so serious right now. mileven is not important for being non conformist, the GAY SHIP IN THE 80S IS!!

“The only people who queerbaited, was byler fans themselves lmao.”

even if we're ignoring the horrible grammar there are still SO many things wrong with everything that was just said. what they're saying above for anybody who can't decipher the weird medieval english code this person is using is that bylers actively queerbaited themselves which inherently makes no sense at all.

below i have included the oxford dictionary definition of queerbaiting: "the incorporation of apparently gay characters or same-sex relationships into a film, television show, etc. as a means of appealing to gay and bisexual audiences while maintaining ambiguity about the characters' sexuality."

how is it possible that byler shippers themselves are the ones doing the queerbaiting? are we running the show? nope! before you come on and post something as offensive as this- which i will get into- at least make sure you know what you're saying. xoxo

to insinuate for even a second that mike wheeler not being gay would be anything other than deliberate queerbaiting is insane. there is something wrong with you. aside from the parts of the show where his queerness is deliberately alluded to like music, costuming, analogies, allegories, and set design, netflix has been, weather you like it or not, actively marketing in favor of byler and mike not being straight. all below come from official netflix accounts-

how is this not queerbaiting? genuinely what are you on about. this is literally textbook.

“will is fruity but mike didn't like the fruit on his pizza”

you seriously are basing your argument about mike not being gay on him not liking fruit on pizza? you seriously think that some of the most commended and celebrated writers of the last decade would use symbolism involving a word that can literally be interpreted as a slur when their show has two characters who are canonically a part of the group affected said slur? are you fucking stupid? that was harmless banter used to communicate the differences in habitual action across the country. it wasn't the duffers trying to do for you what they do for us in deliberate, straightforward NON-OFFENSIVE symbolism.

i saw somebody claim that mike's character arc in season four was inherently about not believing in his self worth nor in his competency to be in a relationship with el

while i do for the most part agree with you, i'm going to ask you a question- mike was never anxious about his identity and self worth involving el before season four. why do you think that just came up now if not for the fact that he's been having insecurities involving his sexuality and romantic attraction to women as a whole? in my opinion, mike realized that he might not like girls in that way circa the end of season three- a realization that only festered and grew through the absence of not only the boy he loves that is causing this insecurity but the girl whom he is using as a way to say hey, i can't be gay, i have a girlfriend! mike was clearly going through some serious emotional struggles as we can immediately see in this scene with how suddenly awkward he is with will and the immediate emphasis that's put on the "from mike" on the flowers.

i agree that his season four and part of his season five arc are about his feelings of insecurity about being in a relationship with el, however, i don't think he's insecure because he thinks she's better than him in the sense that she's some superhero, i think he thinks she's better than him because he knows that he'll never be able to love her the way she deserves to be loved. he's not going to outright come and say to will that he doesn't think that he can love her in the way she deserves to be loved. he's closeted. what he says in the van scene is the only way he knows to express his feelings. it's very similar to what will does in the same scene. it makes no sense for this insecurity to randomly manifest in him if it wasn't for an external factor that doesn't involve el, because nothing has really changed with the dynamic of their relationship other than the move. one could argue that mike is feeling insecure over el's supposed popularity she claims to have in her letters, but mike's arc has never been about caring about popularity in school. that's not something on his mind so much as the grand scheme of the world is. lets not forget that he joins hellfire in season four.

“When Mike didn’t say “I love you”, By*ers twisted it to their narrative. When Mike did say “I love you”, By*ers twisted it to their narrative.”

you literally sound like trump going on about the democrats. listen to what your saying right now. also, it's a ship name. there's no need to censor it you fucking weirdo.

wasted time building up mileven

i'm sorry, what build up? i'm confused. there's no "build up". THIS is build up:

above is will, possessed by a monster who feeds off of those lacking love in their lives, only being able to be broken out of possession by a heartfelt monologue by the PERSON HE LOVES detailing how the best decision he ever made was to befriend him.

above is will claiming he will never fall in love, then his love for one of the other main characters becomes a central plot point of the two seasons to come. joyce and i see through will and all of you weird milevens

mike telling will how it's not his fault will doesn't like girls only after he loses the person he's been using to cover up his own insecurity about the same thing- not liking girls. suspicious.

will's LOVE FOR MIKE being the thing to give him the confidence to help el SAVE THE WORLD, only episodes after we establish that mike is bound to be pissed that he was lied to. and theres no buildup? THERE'S REALLY NO BUILDUP?

if you don't see buildup i fear you are literally just a lost cause because it is so painfully obvious to anybody who made it past seventh grade english class that there is something deeper and more intimate than friendship going on between will byers and mike wheeler.

“Women can be independent while being in a relationship guys😭!!”

OBVIOUSLY! i am literally the biggest feminist on the entire western seaboard. i couldn't agree more with this, which is why we have arcs like nancy's where she actively becomes more independent while still maintaining a relationship with jonathan. the difference is that mike and el have been together since they were like thirteen. when el was immersed into the real world for the first time in season two she immediately leaned on mike for support in that. it's not that she can only be independent on her own, it's that mike is directly symbolic to her of a time when she was stumbling around the world with naivete and not quite knowing how to navigate that. by spreading her wings away from that relationship, it will not only give her independence, but also a way to see beyond the barriers of hawkins and a life where she was valued mostly for the qualities she brings to the supernatural equation. el's arc is one of my favorites. i would never claim such a thing and discredit the essence of what makes the emotions behind her character so interesting. she's somebody who was literally raised in a lab. she shouldn't be held back by somebody she is quite literally dependent on.

last but not least, i saw a post that said milevens always win.

"are you sure about that?" i ask, noah schnapp's most recent instagram post open on my phone, finn wolfhard's spotify playlist in my headphones, my mike holding will's painting funko on the desk in front of me, wearing a yellow shirt with a blue sweater over it.

thank u for listening to my ted talk 💙💛

[opiopal]

My physical head canons for the brothers that no one asked for but I’m sharing anyways because I can’t contain myself cause im a beast of headcanons that need to be released RARARARAR(don’t mind the cringe I’m sleep deprived,)

Lucifer

I like to imagine Lucifer with a slim face and bold cheekbones, he has side burns that look more like small black feathers and ofc he has eyebags, and he’s not as pale, having more of an olive skin tone. I’ve always imagined him with a hooked nose as well, along with more gray hairs. His ears are pointed upwards and are decently long. He still has a slim waist in my brain but also a bolder chest and shoulders. He’s not very muscular but still looks strong for his age(got those baby holdin arms). He has Insanely good posture and I imagine him in his regular outfit as is(though I like to imagine his stupid fuckin shoes are at least a darker brown). He is the third tallest in the household.

Mammon

His face shape is relatively the same in my brain, minus the addition of his ears being pointed, though I always tend to imagine his skin a few shades darker then what it is. his hair has little gold tips like in his demon form. And some of his body hair, like on the back of his hands, arms, and his legs, look like little white feathers. He’s fit like a runner and has very vague abs, like, you wouldn’t process they were there unless he pointed them out. I like to imagine him with a few piercings as well(body piercings not face piercings iykyk;3). His clothes are relatively the same in my brain but he doesnt have feathers in his boots(just keep the feathers as a keychain babe we all know you have a bird thing going on it’s ok). He’s the fourth tallest in the house.

Levi

Levi has as round face in my mind, along with blue freckles that appear like blue scales and visible gills on his neck. His ears are long and thin and constantly drooped(cause bbg is always pathetic no matter what and that’s why I love him💕) His hands and feet have webbing. since he is canonically tall(compared to mammon at least) I like to imagine him being the second tallest and because he is decently tall his body fat does even out, though he has a gut and multiple parts of his body is a lot squishier. I can imagine his clothes give him the appearance of being thinner, but obviously he’s not. And i imagine his clothes to be pretty much the same, maybe looking a little more like he just rolled out of bed though if that makes sense. And like I said he’s the second tallest in the HOL, but sometimes it’s hard to tell cause he slouches.(I can imagine one day he’s getting scolded by Lucifer and he’s told to sit up straight, and after he does so it baffles Lucifer a bit that he has look up at him)

Satan

First things first he does NOT have that jacket, immediately he looks a lot better with only that sweater and his regular pants. Though I can imagine his clothing looking a lot darker, black pants, darker shirt underneath his sweater. His face is pretty similar to Lucifer’s, though his nose is a little smaller and his ears are a little shorter. He’s fit, mostly because I’m sure he burns calories out of pure spite/j. But in all seriousness I feel like he would be a little scrawny from not eating a whole lot by mistake, probably because he was sucked into a book, so he doesn’t mean to forget to grab a snack here and there, he’s just to much of a nerd </3. He’s relatively tall, and him and mammon are the same height.

Asmo

Skin so smooth it would make a modeling agency weep. I like to imagine any makeup he wears is a lot more obvious? Like, you can actually tell he’s wearing makeup, and it’s always flawless, the type of flawless were you can’t help but wonder if he gets up at 4 am to do his makeup. And I could totally see him either using those eyelash oil things to make his lashes grow longer as a part of his 3457 step skincare routine. And I imagine his ears are more elegantly elf like. His hair is still that very soft pink in my mind but the tips fade into a slightly brighter pink, and is also longer. I will never imagine him in his Og outfit because his human realm outfit just fits him so so SO much better both personality wise and just fashion wise period. He definitely works out but just enough to stay healthy and to not develop any muscles. I imagine he is also the same height as mammon, but maybe shorter by half an inch? I also like to imagine he flip flops from looking super fem to being more in between.

Beel

First things first he has a rounder face, period. I also like to imagine him with freckles and his hair is a little scruffier and longer. Not to long but touching his shoulders. He also has shorter chunkier ears that droop downwards. He is the tallest in the household no doubt about it, being taller than Levi by nearly a foot. I imagine his clothes as relatively the same, the fluff on his coat just doesn’t look as matted(I can’t be the only one who thinks that it looks like it needs to be brushed😭). As for his body, he has a gut. And just overall is so much more hunky. I can imagine his body is constantly changing from being more fit to being chunkier, so he has a good handful of stretch marks from his body constantly changing. I like to imagine that demons can burn fat a lot easier than humans, so he finds little to no issue with working away some of the fat that accumulates. But overall he’s mostly rocking a gut and strong arms. Also he’s not as pale in my mind, like he definitely has some melanin.

Belphie

Belphie also has a rounder face, with cow print looking freckles. His ears are droopy like beels and has the same cow print freckles. His hair is longer and he is in a constant state of bedhead. I also don’t think he’s SUPER scrawny, his stomach is pudgy and you can kind of see his ribs. I can also imagine the tips of his fingers have a black gradient and his nails are long and pointy like talons, I like to imagine that it takes some effort to be in their neutral forms, so he doesn’t care a whole lot to fully commit to it. First things first with his clothes: mf does NOT have those pants, nor those knee high laced brown boots. In my head he probably has a pair of sweatpants that have a star pattern, along with some slippers(maybe little cow head slippers cause that’s adorable in my head, and even though I don’t like him a whole lot he still deserves SOME bbg vibes </3). The rest of his clothes are fine to me I guess. But overall he does not care about his looks whatsoever and is always ready for his next nap.

[kami-no-ko]

AGE UP killugon! I have this whole thing in my head: an AU where Killua never left home to attend the Hunter Exam and he is everything his family envisioned him to be. Except he’s burnt out and feels purposeless. So eventually he becomes self-destructive and takes on the most dangerous jobs without breaks or any sense of self preservation. One day, he takes on a job to assassinate Gon Freecss, the youngest 3 star Hunter in history.

Gon is rumored to be insanely powerful and surrounded by influential and faithful allies. It’s the most dangerous job yet even for Killua, and on top of that he’s still recovering from a serious injury from a previous assassination. So when he tracks down Gon at a bar in a fancy hotel, he decides to seduce Gon to get him to lower his guard first and hopefully he would go back his suite with Killua alone. He’s appearance has always been a reliable weapon and from his research, Gon likes men as well as women. But as soon as he starts talking to Gon, it’s like the sun finally shines on him and the dark hole in his heart is magically filled with that sunshine. They talk and talk and flirt and hours go by and the bar closes when the sun is about to rise. So Gon takes Killua back to his room. They start to make out as the door swings shut but Killua forgets his injuries and hisses as Gon reaches under killua’s shirt and disrupted his bandages. He tries to act like it’s nothing and tells Gon to ignore it and keep going but of course Gon would not. They end up just talking all night and make out gently. When the bright morning light shines on Gon’s face, Killua decides that he’s not going to kill Gon- and if Gon finds out about his true motives and kills him or if his family tracks him down and punish him, so be it. But he worries that the person who hired him will hire someone else to finish the job, so he stays with Gon to protect him. It was supposed to be for just a while, but the more time he spends with Gon, the harder it becomes for him to leave. Killua eventually gets his Hunter license. They go on adventures and jobs together. After they risked their lives for each other over and over again, Killua finally tells Gon that he was initially hired to kill him.

But the truth is, Gon is the one who hired Killua. Killua is notorious for his killing spree yet no one even knows what he looks like. Gon decides that he likes a challenge and comes up with this insanely reckless plan without even telling anyone. He wants to draw Killua out; he wants Killua to try to kill him, because it has been a while since he’s met a worthy opponent and he would be taking care of a headache for the Hunter Association as well. But the moment he meets Killua, it’s like a missing piece from a puzzle that is his life has been slid back to where it belongs and a hole that he did not even realize existed in his heart has been filled just like that.

More stuff happens - Gon is kind of an asshole for keeping it a secret and Killua feels so embarrassed and even hurt but Gon being Gon does extravagant stunts to woo Killua so all is good in the end.

Or if we are in a darker universe with a darker Gon, maybe he was initially toying with Killua, making love with Killua, watching Killua falling for him while holding himself back. Killua can sense it but he’s ok with it- he doesn’t think he deserves love anyway. But when a job goes wrong and Killua almost dies protecting Gon, something in Gon cracks. He accepts the fact that he has fallen hopelessly in love with his target just like Killua did. He nurses Killua back to health annnnnnd they lived happily ever after.

Holy crap it’s 3 AM- how did a quick doodle turned into this half ass fiction.

[slippinmickeys]

The Unseelie Court (8/16)

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Mulder said, double parked in front of Scully’s building with the flashers thrown on. “We try to get in with Skinner, maybe. See what he does and doesn’t remember. But first I’m going to have Danny pull up phone records. Prove that the Sheriff called me yesterday morning, and that I called Skinner. Then we plead our case and explain that this is absolutely an X-File. If we’re lucky, we’re back in Adrian County by this time tomorrow.”

Scully roved her eyes over Mulder’s earnest expression, lingering on his eyes, almond-shaped and dusky in the dashboard light. The cap of his hair was only inches from the felt of the car’s ceiling. Sometimes she forgot how tall he was. 

“I agree that it’s an X-File, Mulder,” she said. “But what would we even do if we got back to Adrian County? How do you intend to explain all of this to Skinner? To the Sheriff? We don’t have a suspect. We barely have a crime. What are we going to do, get down there and ask them to put out an APB on redcaps and a powrie?” 

“For one thing, I don’t think the fae we’re dealing with here are nymphs and sprites. I think they’re people-shaped.”

Scully sighed. “I’m not sure that’ll sound any better to Skinner. Even assuming we can prove to him all the things that have happened, that will—if you’ll pardon the expression—sound completely insane.”

A car on the corner turned and headlights panned across Mulder’s face, tracing a shadow of his jaw. He was beautiful. And tragic. And she loved him in a way that shook her to her marrow. 

“At this point, I don’t really think he expects anything less,” he said with no small amount of diffidence. 

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” she said. She wasn’t even sure what kind of hurt she meant; humiliation, rejection, or god forbid, something worse. She would do, she had to admit to herself, a ridiculous number of things to help him avoid that. “Mulder, I know I can be…the way I am.” She struggled to put words to the raw emotion he conjured in her, both good and bad. “But I would do almost anything to protect you,” she admitted in a rush. 

Her pulse picked up a little while the hazard lights ticked a steady rhythm. 

“Feels like a root beer moment,” Mulder said, giving her a half-hopeful, half-sad smile. 

An understatement, she thought, picturing a younger them sitting in the dark in front of Tooms’ apartment. God, would they ever figure out how to get out of their own way?

“I meant what I said then,” she said seriously. “And I mean it now.”

For him she wielded a scalpel and sliced herself deep. For him she bled. Would bleed. He made her desperate, and in her desperation she had stood up to bosses, to brothers, to Congress. He made her weak, but her weakness made her strong. Love by any other name was his. 

“Scully—” he started, but she whipped off her seatbelt and was half across the console, his cheek in her hand, her lips pressing desperately into his. He melted into her touch, his own hands tangling in her hair, straining against the seatbelt he was wearing to get closer to her. She kissed him soundly. She kissed him hard. She kissed him until the roar of blood in her ears was louder than the voices of fear and apprehension in her head.

When she pulled back, he looked dazed, spellbound, his lower lip glistening with the ichorous slip of her kiss. 

“I’ll see you in the office,” she said, and she was out of the car and into the cool damp of the night before he could muster a response.

***

Mulder thrashed to awakening, his sheets wrapped around his lower legs, pulling him, pinning him down. He drew in a gasping breath, trying to make sense of being in his own room, in his own bed. His dream had been terrible and dark, the only thing he could remember about it was that Scully had been taken away from him, and he’d been held down by a searing hot pain pressing into his chest. He brought his hand to the skin there, and it was hot to the touch. 

He leaned over and switched on his bedside lamp, blinking against the sudden light for a peek at his alarm clock. 3:33am. 

Far too early to head into the office, even for him. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, though he was tired. He flopped back down onto the bed and reached for the pillow on the other side, hugging it to himself and huffing the scent of Scully’s hair that still lingered on the pillowcase. 

If he was going to be awake, he may as well put the time to use. Mentally, he put each piece of evidence, occurrence and person onto an inner-mind index card and shuffled the deck. When he laid out the cards, it put forth a confusing picture. Daly Carmichael had disappeared 26 years ago and returned, not altogether too far from where he’d gone missing, in almost the same state in which he’d left. Until Scully had pulled the leaf with the seven-pointed star etched into it out of his mouth, which Mulder had to consider might be coincidental. 

The star represented the Seelie Court of the Fae, if Mulder’s instincts were correct. The most perplexing parts of the case so far were the fact that Daly Carmichael hadn’t aged (and then had, rapidly), and the fact that no one seemed to remember it other than Mulder, Scully and the diener in the Adrian County morgue. The strange coins spoke to him, as did the now-missing ingot of iron. The fairy hollows or groves he and Scully had found, the missing time. If the leaf had been imbued with magic of some kind, that could explain either the lack of aging or the later aging itself, and perhaps why the only people to have come into contact with the leaf were the ones that seemed to remember it. Maybe it explained the other things that had happened as well—the missing evidence, appearance and disappearance of the groves.

And then Mulder remembered that the diener, Aeon, hadn’t actually seen the leaf. Scully had pulled it out of Carmichael’s mouth, and Mulder had bagged it and was still in possession of it. Other than pointing them in the direction of the lab, the grumpy little man hadn’t had anything to do with it. Unless he’d encountered it when prepping the body.

Mulder would have to ask tomorrow. In the meantime, he continued to shuffle and reshuffle the mental cards in his head over and over, each time coming up with an incomplete picture and no real concrete investigative path forward.

He sighed, hugging the pillow closer to his chest and taking another look at the clock. 

3:41am. 

***

Mulder was at his desk by 7:00, and Scully was sitting in front of her laptop in the annex by 8:00. She had bags under her eyes and had mentioned not sleeping terribly well. 

“Do you know,” Mulder said, after she’d taken the last sip of her coffee, “if by chance your diener came into contact with the leaf that was in Daly Carmichael’s mouth?” 

Scully looked pensive for a moment. “I suppose there’s a chance,” she said. “He just emailed me a digital copy of the dental records. I could ask him.”

“Would you?” Mulder said.

Only a few minutes passed before Scully looked up once again from her computer. “He says no.”

Mulder leaned back in his office chair, the base of it giving a complaintive creak. 

“What’s his last name?” 

“Whose?”

“Your diener.”

“Greene,” Scully answered after a quick glance at her screen. “Aeon Greene.”

“What do you know about him?”

Scully looked at Mulder blankly for a moment. “That his name is Aeon Greene and he’s an autopsy technician in the Adrian County morgue. Why?”

Mulder absorbed the tiny amount of incredulity he detected in her tone. “Because other than you and me, he’s the only person that doesn’t seem to be affected by the memory magic or whatever the hell it is that seems to be impacting literally every other single person involved with this investigation.”

“Memory magic?” 

“Mass amnesia. I don’t know. Whatever you want to call it.”

Scully rubbed her hands over her eyes. “You want to have Danny look into him?”

“Danny’s busy tracking down phone logs. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Scully said, standing up wearily. “Do that. I told Violent Crimes I’d look at something for them. I’ve got to go up to the third floor. You want to meet in the lobby later and go out to lunch?”

Mulder’s mood, momentarily lowered by Scully’s announcement that she wouldn’t be around the rest of the morning, instantly lifted. He smiled. 

“It’s a date.”

She returned his smile and turned back to him when she was in the doorway. 

“Mulder?”

He looked up. 

“You still carrying that leaf around?” she asked. 

Mulder reached into his pocket and held it up in two fingers. “Not really sure what else to do with it. Chain of custody and all that.”

“Well, leave it here when we go out to lunch. Lock it in your desk drawer or something.” 

“Why?”

“Because if that thing is the mechanism of this amnesia ‘magic,’” she used finger quotes, “I’m kind of hoping that by the time we get back, we’ll have forgotten everything, too.”

***

With no hit on the NCIC, Mulder logged into the Virginia state database and ran a quick search on Aeon Greene. And came up with nothing. No driver’s license, no address, no voter registration or tax information. He tried various spellings of both first and last name and put them through the systems for Maryland and the District of Columbia, then threw in West Virginia as well. Nothing. 

By the time noon rolled around, he was frustrated, hungry, and had a splitting headache. 

Scully met him in the lobby looking equally worse for wear.

“You okay?” Mulder asked, holding open the door on the other side of Security, and momentarily forgetting all about his wasted morning. 

“The ViCAP case,” Scully said, ducking out under his arm. “It was a case with kids. They could have warned me.”

“They didn’t?” he asked, incredulous. 

“No. And the next time they want me for something, they can go through Skinner first.”

Mulder made it his mission to improve her mood and actually had her laughing by the time they walked back into their basement office. Scully hung up her coat with a smile and settled into the chair she’d vacated earlier. 

“How’d your morning go?” she asked. 

Mulder could feel his headache returning. 

“A total bust,” he said. 

“Danny didn’t have anything?” 

“I haven’t heard back yet,” Mulder explained. “What I meant was, there’s no record of Aeon Greene. Not in NCIC, not in the state systems of Virginia, Maryland or West Virginia, nor for DC.”

Scully looked at her computer screen. Right there in her inbox sat this morning’s two messages from the Adrian County morgue assistant. 

“How?” she said. “He’s a county employee.” 

“Well, he’s not in the system.” 

“Did you spell it right? ‘Aeon’ is a weird name.” 

“I spelled it right. I spelled it wrong. I spelled it every which way but loose.” 

Scully brought up her own screen, curious. Her own NCIC search came up negative, but that would only list if Aeon had ever been arrested for or part of some kind of crime. Then she pulled up the database for the State of Virginia. 

Aeon came up right away. 

“Here he is,” she said. 

Mulder looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I ran a search,” she said. “He’s right here.” 

Mulder popped up out of his chair like he’d sat on something sharp and marched over to where she sat, peering intently over her shoulder. 

She pointed to the entry for Aeon Greene on the screen. 

“That wasn’t there,” he said, staring at it intently. 

“Are you sure you didn’t—” 

“Scully.” The way he said her name was low, almost dangerous, and made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She felt suddenly discomposed. 

“Well,” she said, swallowing. “It’s here, now.” She clicked on it and scrolled through what data had been collected on the man. “Nothing jumps out.” 

Mulder sighed, the warm fug of his breath playing over the activated skin on her neck. She could feel a blush of something creep up her cheeks. 

Mulder straightened and made his way back over to this desk. “Good to know I wasted my morning.” 

Scully turned to him with an eye to making him feel better. The light on his desk phone was blinking. She pointed to it. 

“Looks like you have a message,” she said. “Danny, maybe?” 

“Let’s see,” he said, and dialed in, letting it play on speaker. 

“You have two new messages,” said the tinny recorded voice. Then, “Hey Mulder, it’s Danny. Listen, I got the phone records you were looking for from two days ago. No incoming or outgoing calls from your cell phone that morning. Nothing to or from the Assistant Director’s phone. Nothing from Adrian County to your line, Agent Scully’s line, or through the switchboard. About all I could find was five calls from Agent Scully’s cell phone to your cell phone yesterday afternoon. I know that’s not the information you were looking to get. Sorry, pal. Let me know if you need anything else.” 

Mulder connected eyes with his partner over the desk. The second message started autoplaying: a voice he didn’t recognize. 

“Hello? This is Candy Winnecott calling from the Jordan Lake Motor Lodge? I got this number from our registration, and I wanted to let you know that y’all left some kind of wire or cable here sitting on top of the bed you didn’t use in unit 6. If it’s government property I don’t want to get in trouble. You can call us right here at the front desk and we’ll arrange to get it to you. 540-555-0218.”

Mulder was just remembering Scully throwing her phone’s charging cord onto her bed when there was a light knock on their office door. 

They looked up to find Arlene standing there with a sheepish look on her face, holding a short stack of file folders. 

“Agents?” she said, her cheeks pinkening. “Sorry to interrupt. The Assistant Director needs your signatures on these reports. I would have interofficed them, but it needs to be done today.” 

Mulder watched as a look of barely controlled panic crossed his partner’s face. Had Arlene heard the part about “the bed you didn’t use?” 

Making a conscious effort not to share any kind of look with Scully that Arlene might pick up on, he turned breezily towards the assistant. 

“Sure,” he said, waving her in and pressing the button to hang up the phone’s speaker function. “We can do that right now.”

[velvetvexations]

incredible, i just saw a reblog of that "transfem headcanons are always better and sometimes transmasc headcanons actively make the text worse and more hateful" by someone i followed. funny to see discussions arguing against the post before seeing the post itself, otherwise i would have unthinkingly internalized it and felt like shit without knowing why. anyway, i unfollowed that person now. to make it worse, op tore into someone for claiming that chihiro from danganronpa is an exception and better read as transmasc... the irony is insane. yet another example besides miquella that would make the story more boring and maybe worse if transfem.

it's so disgustingly petty lmao

a lot of transfem headcanons are reaches, often "this is literally a man magically trapped in the body of a woman and he hates it and desperately keeps trying to go back to being a man" and it's FINE to headcanon characters however you want but since some people can't conceptualize being a woman as anything other than something they wish would happen to them they take characters like that and hiss if you go near them

i get the sense that there's a very specific, narrow demographic of transfems who used to buy into that reddit guy "being a hot 22-year-old girl must be like having 10 billion dollars" attitude and never really let it go. thus the fixation on "AFAB privilege". isee a similar mix of resentment and attraction from lesbian TERFs, though it comes from a different origin. and it's an attitude that can slide easily into TERFism even for cis men--just look at tatsuya ishida!

If anything the idealization of femininity a small minority of transfems exhibit when they complain endlessly about how good trans people AFAB have it would come more from dysphoria and the grass being greener on the other side. "An AFAB trans person will immediately revert to being an innocent little girl to hurl sexual assault accusations at trans women," however, is really concerning!

Regarding whether "binary privilege" exists, i am once again on my hands and knees begging people to actually look at the statistics. The US Transgender Survey and Cohnting Ourselves (from Aotearoa) are right there. And they both show that all trans people are about as badly off as each other regardless of their specific gender. Yes, there are some ways in which being nonbinary is particularly hard, such as not having a social role to fit into, I'm not denying any of that, but if you're going to call being binary a "privilege" then there needs to be a visible whole-group effect for binary people compared to nonbinary people. And there isn't one when you look at the numbers.

It's not really about non-binary people having it flat worse, more just situational complexities.

The thing about even discussing privilege (binary privilege in this case) is that so many people talk as if to have privilege means to inherently have privilege Over someone else. Like is it an advantage for me to be vaguely binary alligned enough sometimes to have a legal gender marker that is moderately less dysphoria inducing when some people are equally harmed by either? (Tbf I live in a state where x is an option, I simply do not feel safe with that 😵‍💫 (tho that does not help when nothing else other than state id accepts it)) like yeah it's a privilege but it's not privilege Over someone. It does not make me an oppressor or mean I am causing harm, which is a thing many people seem to believe, about various forms of privilege

That's a very good point, anon.

I suppose this isn’t how others I’ve seen think about it but. I’ve always just understood that you can be oppressed for being trans without your gender being affirmed. Like. The bigots understand you’re trans but that doesn’t make them think of you as your gender it makes them think of you as trans. Misgendering is such a huge part of what transphobes do and I’ve never once assumed they were like. Lying about seeing trans people that way. I don’t get acting like transphobes can see our, as you put it, soul gender.

It makes people feel better.

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

Hello again! I was the anon that asked what interactions you would like to see with Alhaitham and Kaveh (and I am the reader that made the two listed comments). Thank you for the thoughtful response. It's so interesting to hear your perspective of these two. I hope you had a nice vacation. My one takeaway from Cyno story quest act II is that Cyrus was acquainted with the Sumeru crew's parents. He was shown in the photo from Kaveh's handout standing behind Alhaitham's father. I don't imagine they were close or anything, but it does make me intrigued. I wonder if they would explore more of that group in the future, given how they relate (literally and in parallels) with the Sumeru crew.

Hiya! I’ve finally managed to find time to dedicate to this ask, it’s scratched the itch in my brain! I, apparently, have quite a few thoughts about this topic so thank you for asking! Also !!! Thank you for previous asks AND the listed comments on my fic??? I truly appreciate the time you must have spent :,D <3333

This!! The specific detail of Cyrus canonically being mentioned to personally have met, not only Kaveh’s father and mother and tighnari’s parents, but ALSO alhaitham’s parents drives me insane because of how it is directly unmentioned.

It’s uncertain as to the extent of Cyno’s actual relationship with kaveh’s or alhaitham’s parents, but based on what Kaveh’s mother wrote, she, personally, didn’t seem to be close with cyrus, as she records their meeting to be the first instance in which she has met all the attendees. She records that her and her husband were invited to a gathering, but she knew none of those in attendance, only that her husband seemed to be friends with “the man with long ears” - being tighnari’s father. nothing is said about kaveh’s father knowing the other people in attendance, but as it isn’t specified, it also isn’t impossible? faranak does write that it’s unlikely they’ll see any of the people in attendance again after the gathering - but i imagine that tighnari’s father here is an exception, given that he and kaveh’s father are recorded to be friends (also, the only inkling i have for the 'talkative woman' is potentially madam faruzan? but as this is so vague i'm not too sure about speculating)

kaveh’s mother having canonically met alhaitham’s parents drives me a little bit !??!!?? because kaveh notes that the figures in the drawing seem familiar, which, of course, doesn’t mean he has identified alhaitham’s parents, especially after he disregards any potential connection with “maybe we were thinking too much.” but given tighnari’s father being a fennec it is rather odd(?) that he doesn’t make a more personal connection, at least to tighnari's father being the "friend" to his father that his mother writes about

however, in terms of what the narrative is trying to achieve in kaveh's hangout, it does make sense that these dots aren’t connected. the point here isn’t that kaveh recognises these figures, but rather that he relates the companionship in the drawing to those around him. kaveh’s hangout is very much symbolic, being that each figure in faranak’s drawing is meant to represent kaveh’s friendship group, meaning he should rely on his friends, tighnari, cyno, and alhaitham - as the quest is entitled “companionship, the sole antidote”

the fact kaveh DOESN’T identify cyrus in the picture leaves room for development, or future mention of this. Cyrus canonically talks to zaha hadi, kaveh’s mother’s lecturer, about kaveh, and zaha hadi is the person whom kaveh turns to in order to learn about his mother when she was younger.

There’s definitely potential to draw upon here - if cyrus knows he has met kaveh’s parents in the past, and he and kaveh have a personal rapport due to kaveh’s friendships with cyno and tighnari, it seems strange that he omits this detail? Especially, if it’s considered canon that kaveh’s hangout has taken place in-game, then cyrus, given that zaha hadi mentions kaveh to him, might be aware that kaveh has been asking about his mother?

(A counter to this would be that due to cyrus’s potential limited encounter with both kaveh’s father and mother, and that it took place over thirty years ago, he has no basis to open this dialogue with kaveh, as it may be a sore spot (This could also apply with cyrus having met alhaitham’s parents - perhaps he simply only met them once, but still, i crave alhaitham parent crumbs) - however, in an ideal world, this could be some sort of catalyst or feed into the idea of kaveh potentially reaching out to his mother in future events, perhaps with cyrus referencing this past gathering(?)

Now, moving onto tighnari’s parents, who are very much alive and well, and also have canonically met kaveh’s parents - with tighnari’s father being directly stated to be close with kaveh’s father, in terms of the gathering at least. with tighnari and kaveh being friends due to exchanging letters during the construction of the palace of alcazarzaray, rather than tighnari’s parents’ influence, could indicate that kaveh’s mother dropped all contact with any friends or acquaintances, which i think likely. however, i am !??!!?? very confused about this implication

tighnari’s parents would, of course, know that kaveh is tighnari’s close friend, and i presume that kaveh has met tighnari’s parents at some point, so from this, i would imagine that tighnari’s parents having known/met kaveh’s parents may have come up at some point? Especially with tighnari’s father being recorded as being friends with kaveh’s father, at least from faranak’s perspective?

in terms of the canon, however, this appears to not be the case, so i would LOVE for this to be mentioned at some point!! Especially as sumeru cast heavily revolves around family, found and biological (i’m looking at you cyno’s second story quest)

In terms of alhaitham’s parents, the only mentions of them are in alhaitham’s character stories and here in kaveh’s hangout. there’s no indicator as to whether alhaitham’s parents were close or just acquaintances with cyrus, kaveh’s father, or tighnari’s parents, but in my mind i think it’s interesting that his character stories record his grandmother teaching him of his parents, and his retaining part of his parents’ book collection when his grandmother passes. basically i think alhaitham treasures what he does know of his parents, and i think a lil mention of them by people we KNOW met them, if only for one gathering, would be appreciated

So this links directly to kaveh’s mother - if she is ever mentioned in the future, it would be INSANE wish fulfilment if her drawing was returned to, and the figures were identified, and memories from those present and alive could be shared

(I also think it’s so funny that her son is roommates/innately bound by mirror symbolism/married to the son of the people she thought were uncomfortable and awkward. basically i am in DIRE need of a kaveh and faranak reunion and for them to sort their issues, obviously for kaveh’s development and reconciliation within himself, but also for a faranak-alhaitham interaction…. Can you imagine. Now i have thoughts about that, but this has gotten off topic!!!)

Of course, i’m aware that i’m overthinking a lot of this, and this could be one of the many plot discrepancies within genshin, and that as a result of creating symbolism, in-game implications were created that weren’t supposed to be touched upon, but i think a lot of fun comes with discussing and hypothesising (manifesting) these things!!

Thank you so much for your ask!! Delving back into this part of kaveh’s hangout is always a treat, so i hope you enjoy reading my brainrot :,)

[dollywheeler]

October 24th, 1996

Mike is such a DOUCHEBAG! What? Just because he’s back in town he thinks he can dictate how I live my fucking life?! I knew this would happen! Knew he would just go back to looking at me like the goddamn 5 year old he couldn't give a damn about! That was nothing but a nuisance!

As if I can’t take care of myself! God, if he thinks I give a shit about his opinion he’s going to be sorely disappointed! Sure, not jumping four feet in the air and possibly breaking my neck at seven in the morning where no one will find me for at least another hour, made sense. That I can place and admit to being dangerous! But just running? What? I’m so fragile I might twist my ankle?

Fuck, and the way he yelled at me? Like I’m some dumb child that should know better?? I do know better! Which is why I always leave a note with my exact route and expected time of return - not even because I think anything might happen, but because I have common human decency and don’t want mom to worry when she wakes up to find me gone! Something he could’t give a rat’s ass about!!

Seriously, it’s so fucking rich that he thinks he has the right to scold me about running around Hawkins - Hawkins of all places, as if there are more boring towns than this! - in the dark without adult supervision! I’m so mad it’s insane. I don’t think I’ve ever been this pissed off before, it’s genuinely quite impressive.

To think that an hour ago I was so content to wake up early and go for a run before school. I was in such a good mood too - he ruined it.

He just doesn’t understand! I already can’t practice my routine - not the full, difficult parts of it - so the least I can do is work on my cardio and stamina! But when I tell him that he’s all like “just ask a friend to come along next time!” And I try to tell him that’s not an option but he just - ugh. He doesn’t get it. There’s no point in practicing extra when everyone knows you’re doing it. It will just make everyone think I’m being a try-hard or a suck-up or whatever! Or just think I’m being weird for needing the extra practice!

Great, now I’m crying again because I'm pathetic! Fucking Mike. Fuck this shit.

Okay, so I didn’t actually finish this entry, for many reasons. I didn’t even start it properly - not that the “dear diary” really matters, I guess, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Anyway, even though it’s been hours, I’m still pissed off, don’t worry, but at least now I have the time and state of mind to finish. I’m skipping English as I’m writing this down - I know it’s terrible for a lot of reasons.

1, my school record, but what is Mike going to do? Report me? Fuck that. And fuck him.

2, It’s letting him win. I recognise that. But I guess I’m weak because I really can’t deal with seeing him right now. God I hate him.

3, Danny is probably wondering where I am, which means I’ll have to tell him what happened.

Damn - maybe I didn’t think this through. I can probably spin it - say I wasn’t feeling well or something. Except I don’t want to lie to him either… Well, it’s not technically a lie. Still, I’ll probably just tell him some part of the truth - he can know I was pissed at Mike. He doesn’t have any siblings but he’ll probably understand anyway.

To think that for a while I considered myself an only child… tragic. I was so fucking close to just having a cool older sister that was too far away to meddle in my life. I was in control of my life - I still am!

Mike just thinks he has a say all of a sudden - which he doesn’t. Two weeks of being civil does not a brother make!

Seriously, it was so disorientating to just be running one minute, thinking nice thoughts, wondering about the english assignment, only for Mr. Wheeler himself to actually see me and come storming out freaking out about me running in the dark! It's Hawkins in October! It's dark all the time!

I was so shocked, I could barely defend myself. God, the neighbours will probably have wondered what the fuck was going on - If our shouting match didn’t wake them I’m sure they’re dead.

The worst part was that I still had to go to school after… I'm sure everyone could tell I was off. Or at least Dylan would have, if she hadn't been a thousand miles away today herself. I'm kind of glad for it. Danny sending me worried glances was more than enough, and just getting to listen to Whitney rattle on about yearbook and today's lunch and whatever else was not living up to her standard was nice. Distracting.

Still, I wish I could just go home already - I want to lie down and mope and pretend like it's still three months ago when Mike was far far away! Then I wouldn't have to deal with his judgement and his meddling and his passive-aggressiveness towards mom and dad. And I could just kiss my boyfriend in school without fearing he might see.

Sadly, I still have cheer practice and I can't skip it. It's already bad enough that Dylan has a brace around her wrist again.

This just reminded me I'm still wearing Mike's bracelet - it really shouldn't make me feel better but it does. It's petty as hell, and he probably doesn't even remember it exists, but whatever.

He should just go back to not remembering me.

- Holly

[hannahssimblr]

“Come on!” Jen giggles, “Just one! One little eeny-weeny teeny puff!”

“No! Get it away!” 

With one hand locked behind my neck, she tries to slot a joint into my mouth. I gently but firmly peel her hands off me. “This is the textbook definition of peer pressure.”

“Oh, you should tell your parents what’s happening to you. They’ll think I’m evil.”

“They already half think that.”

“Come on!”

“I’ll vomit.”

“You might not this time. It might be different.”

“There’s something deeply insane about that statement.”

“Here!” Shane interjects, holding his hand out for the joint. “Give it to me, sure it’s only wasted on him.” He pops it between his lips, and when he smokes it, the end crackles, a dot of smouldering light in the dark. 

Standing around watching my friends get stoned has been a regular fixture of the summer. We spend most of these long, lazy evenings hanging out in some unkempt corner of the caravan park, where the sun’s warmth lingers on the fractured tarmac and damp beach towels are drying over the wire fence around the tennis court. 

Last night, some man in his thirties complained that our chatting was disturbing his kids’ bedtime and that he could smell the weed smoke inside his caravan. Except he didn’t call it weed. He called in ganja, and when he went back inside, we snickered about it until he hissed out of the window that he was going to phone the police.

So tonight I am standing around watching my friends get stoned in town instead. It took me forty-five minutes to cycle in to meet them, and my reward for that is the ends of the Chinese takeaway that they didn’t finish and a wonky joint being forced into my mouth.

“Fuck, that’s shite,” Shane hacks out a bone-dry cough, and he pushes the joint towards Joe, who has the temerity to look offended. “Hey! My brother sold me that.”

“Did your brother fish it out of that bin at the back of the chipper?”

Joe smokes it to prove a point. “It’s lovely,” he insists, eyes watering, “I think that’s… that’s actually the nicest weed I ever had.”

“It tastes of stale crackers.”

“My brother wouldn’t sell me bad stuff! Don’t say that about-” his eyes bulge and he breaks off into wheezing coughs, doubling over with a hand clutching at his throat, “Okay, right enough,” he manages as we passively watch him struggle, “it’s a bit dry.” 

Kasper is waving in the distance, doing a little half-run across the pedestrian crossing. He’s coming back from the off licence with a school bag packed so full of cans that he hasn’t been able to zip it up all the way. 

“I saw Liam,” He says, eyes dancing as though he has spotted a cryptid in the woods, “And girlfriend eating at restaurant.”

“Just now?” Jen says. 

“Yes, five minutes.”

They must be on a date. I wonder did he ask her to his debs. I wonder if she said yes. I wonder why I am invested. 

“Oh! Cute! Maybe they’ll come and hang out.” She produces her flip phone and begins texting. 

“No,” Shane protests with a waving hand, “Don’t. Don’t invite them.”

“Too late. I’ve asked her.”

“No. It’s weird! I don’t want her to see me stoned.”

“She knows you smoke weed.”

“She doesn’t.”

“Well, she’s about to find out.”

My stomach does strange things at the thought of seeing Evie again. It’s ridiculous and makes little sense because she’s just some random girl who hangs out with Kelly Healy. It would be easier to dismiss this sensation as weird hunger pangs if I hadn’t eaten less than half an hour ago, so instead, I conclude I am experiencing a sudden onset anxiety disorder and concentrate on ignoring it.

When she arrives about fifteen minutes later, I ignore the feeling even harder. She is smiling, but Liam is not. He drags his feet behind her, pointedly miserable, while Evie drifts over and hugs Jen, oblivious to him. 

I’m there too, somehow, holding out my arms to hug her. I make sure it’s brief, because I am still somewhat attempting to be nice to Liam, and suspect he considers my touching or looking at Evie in any way to be bullying. I give him that awkward, closed-lip smile afterwards, and he does the same in return. 

The smell of Evie’s jasmine shampoo lingers in my nose even after she is gone. 

“What happened to your face?” Shane asks her. She goes pink and wipes a knuckle under her eye. “Nothing happened. Kelly did my makeup.”

A laugh bubbles from his lips. “Well, you look mad.”

All I noticed was the dark makeup on her eyes and some lipstick. It’s not exactly shocking stuff.

Jen rolls her eyes as she takes the joint from Joe. “Don’t mind him. You look lovely as usual.” She takes a long, luxurious drag. “You want?” 

“Ah, no. She can’t have any,” Shane pushes Jen’s arm away. “I wouldn’t let Evie do any of this stuff. She’s only a baby.”

Jen doesn’t rest, she just swings her arm to Liam instead. “How about you?” And I wonder if the quality is really so bad that she’s offering it to him. I feel it’s just as good in the rubbish bin. Smirking, I catch eyes with Evie, who is trying her hardest to look serious, and wonder if she is thinking about the story I told her about him at the gallery yesterday. The memory of her guilty laughter makes me feel like I might lose my cool completely.

Liam brushes some curls across his forehead and straightens up haughtily. “No thanks. I’m probably not going to stay for long, anyway. I have to get up at six for work.” He takes his phone out of his jeans. “Actually, I think I’m going to text my dad to come and get me now, so if you want a lift, Evie, you can come.”

“No,” she says, a little too quickly. “I think I’m going to stay.”

His brow furrows. “Will you just get a taxi then or what?”

“We’ll get her home safely,” I say, and a rigidity comes over Liam. He won’t look at me, and a muscle pops in his cheek. 

“Will you? But sure, you’re all stoned.”

“I’m not. She’ll be fine with us.”

“Okay,” he says, though it’s clear it’s not at all, but what does he expect? You can’t exactly force a girl who is so clearly repelled by your presence to hang out with you. In fact, Evie spends the next half hour chit-chatting with Jen and ignoring him while he sulks in the background, waiting for his dad to collect him. When he leaves they exchange awkward goodbyes, and she continues as she was, as though she’s already forgotten he was with her. I should probably feel bad for him, but I am oddly triumphant. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[goblinontour]

im actually curious. The way you write is soo amazing and deep and too deep even. what’s on your mind when you write those things i mean your insanely talented and it’s getting to the point where my whole day in school is thinking about every single word you wrote. I think about the words what it means and honestly the things you write makes my heart beat faster idk why. What’s on your mind and how do you actually think 😭 i know it’s weird but im genuinely too curious to know how do you see life things and everything like how do you feel and such yk. I like you a lot pls keep going im so amazed by your work

thank you. this went on pretty long and probably doesn’t make any sense so i’ll just leave it under read more.

i don’t really know how to answer this and at the same time i think that’s the answer to it. i’m a very closed off person, it’s been getting worse as the years went on, i feel. i think it started from just being self conscious about like normal stuff but then it turned into this constant feeling that’s there all the time, no matter who i talk to for the exception of maybe a couple people, i can’t help but feel that i’m not taken seriously and they’re either making fun of me for being who i am or making fun of me for actually being boring/embarrassing/etc and me just being oblivious to it. and that then turns into me being even more closed off. i was told once that i’m not “stimulating” in conversation. it’s really stuck with me and i’ve sort of just been avoiding getting into situations like that again by shutting up all together. so when i write i feel more free to express myself however i want knowing that no one’s forced to read it, and if someone does it’s because they actually wanted to. as for the writing itself i just…think of stuff. a lot. i’m not actually very experienced myself when it comes to the subject of my writing, so i think i invent an idealised version of things (when though some of the things i write wouldn’t be classed as ideal, i hope you understand what i tried to say). i’m also very scared of people and interacting with people, like i said above. and that fear made me awfully aware of every move i make and every word i say, and i mean with anyone. from a greeting to a hug goodbye, it’s all overthought in my head, i just try to avoid taking the lead so i don’t end up looking like the fool…so i resort to writing interactions and conversations and such. that’s like the basis of it. and then i often have notes for each individual fic before i write it. i have the main idea of what i want to happen in my head but sometimes it’s difficult to just go from that. so once i have the idea i start writing down random stuff i see/hear. mostly out of context stuff but when i’m already thinking of something it just automatically links to that and when i sit down to properly write it becomes what it becomes.

i’m also pretty obsessive when it comes to things i like and if i find something i really really like then that’s the only thing i can think about. not like actually the only thing but the only one i think about in that way. alex for example, it’s just him. i like other bands/artists but i literally don’t give a fuck when it comes to stuff outside of the music itself. i’m a fan of the 1975 and i find matty healy hot and i traveled to another country alone for the first time to see them live but i’m not affected by anything he does, i just don’t care enough. but for alex it’s…it’s alex! i think of him a lot and i think his absence is what makes me think of him so much actually. so it’s impossible for me to not have something to say when it comes to him. hence why i write so much about him, i have all these different versions of him in my head all the time.

and i don’t consider myself a writer in any way to be honest. it’s not what i’m in school for, it doesn’t have much to do with it, it’s (like my bio says) just fantasies, put down into words. i guess.

no idea if what i said makes any sense with what you were actually asking. i think i’m starting to say too much on here.

this is what i mean, lyrics, posts, just images sometimes, sentences i hear and like:

[shmaptainwrites]

*knocks politely*

Hello hi!

Requesting Bobby with the “kiss me” prompt. Hehe okay byeeeeee

bestie i’ve got youuuu this prompt is so perfect for shenanigans so shenanigans is what you get

Pairings: Bobby Nash x GN!Reader

Warnings: they are two halves of one braincells i stg, breaking and entering, general idiocy, they’re just…so stupid

Amateur Sleuth

“I swear there’s something illegal going on there but no one believes me! Doesn’t help that I don’t have any proof to prove them wrong,” you sighed, sitting back in your chair at the dining table in the fire hall, your arms crossed over your chest.

“You are absolutely insane for spying on your neighbours, you know that, right?” Eddie asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Come on Eddie, if you saw what I saw, you’d be snooping.”

“Which was what exactly?” Buck asked as he joined you.

“She says she has an Etsy store, but people only ever come and buy stuff from her in the dead of night.”

“So like 10:30 for you?” Hen teased and you lightly shoved her.

“No like 3 am, I’m not joking,” you said. “And I found her instagram and that girl is living well beyond her means for a retail worker who has an Etsy shop on the side. I’m talking about vacations every other month, she bought a Mercedes recently, something is up for sure.”

“I agree,” Bobby jumped into the conversation.

“Thank you! Finally someone with some common sense,” you exclaimed. “Now if only I could figure out what the hell she’s up to.”

“You need to stake her place out,” Bobby said simply.

“You say that as if you’ve done it before, Cap,” Chimney chuckled.

“Maybe once or twice off the record, but with good reason and my hunches were right.”

“What do I have to pay you to come over tonight and help me figure this out?” you laughed, but the whole team knew you were being dead serious.

“Just a cup of coffee, I’ll come over at 11,” he smiled and you clapped your hands together victoriously.

“5 bucks says this is gonna blow up in your faces,” Eddie took out his wallet and put the cash on the table.

“I’ll take that action,” Hen nodded. “I’ve seen Bobby do his thing, there’s a slight chance this could go right.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Hen,” you said sarcastically. “Jokes on all of you, this is gonna go great.”

After your shift was over you headed home and ate something for dinner before napping for a few hours so you could manage to stay up late that night.

Your alarm went off just ten minutes before Bobby arrived and you had a pot of coffee hot and ready when he came inside.

“So where does this neighbour of yours live?” he asked.

“She’s the apartment directly across the hall,” you pointed. “If you look through the peephole you can see, that’s how I’ve been doing most of my spying.”

“Alright, we can use that and since you’re on the first floor if the opportunity presents itself, maybe we can see if there’s any clues from the window.”

“Man, I didn’t even think of that,” you chuckled. “Oh this is gonna be so fun.”

You poured Bobby a cup of coffee and you waited eagerly for one of your neighbour’s customers to show up. After a while, no one had come and your neighbour had left the house a while ago so Bobby suggested to get a look through the window.

“We’ve gotta be quiet though, I’m not the only snoopy neighbour, if someone sees me they’ll call the cops for sure,” you noted, grabbing Bobby’s hand and leading him out of the building and to the rear where you could peek in through the windows.

Some of the blinds were drawn and others were open so you got looks where you could, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“This can’t be it,” you shook your head.

“I know, somethings not sitting right with me,” Bobby agreed, there had to be something you weren’t seeing.

You leaned against one of the windows in defeat and looked over at Bobby in shock when it shifted. You exchanged knowing glances, no one would find out about this part.

Since you knew the neighbours better, you stayed on lookout to make sure you didn’t get caught while Bobby carefully climbed inside and searched for clues.

He took a few photos here and there so they could go over them later, but what he was really looking for was what she could possibly be selling that was making her so much money.

On the table he found a date book and quickly flipped through it, finding some potentially useful information on the sales, but before he could do anything about it, he heard your voice quietly, but urgently exclaim,

“Shit! She’s back! Bobby you’ve gotta get the hell outta there, but just as he was going to climb out the window you saw something that told you he should wait a moment. So you hid behind a bush and waited for another neighbour to go inside before practically grabbing Bobby and pulling him out of her apartment and closing the open window.

You both ran inside and you fumbled for your keys as your heard footsteps coming closer. Honestly, you thought it looked pretty incriminating, but it was possible the adrenaline was getting in the way of your better judgment.

The footsteps became even louder and for some reason your keys were not in your pocket, so in a desperate attempt to save face you looked Bobby dead in the eye and said,

“Kiss me.”

“What?” he quietly exclaimed like he hadn’t heard you correctly the first time.

“Just trust me Bobby! Kiss me!”

Just as he took your face in his hands and he pulled you towards him you wrapped your arms around his neck and his lips came crashing down on yours. You kissed feverishly as your neighbour came past you and to her door, only breaking apart to nervously chuckle as you made eye contact with her.

“Tinder am I right?” you shrugged and she smiled knowingly before nodding and giving you a thumbs up of approval before going inside her place.

“Tinder? Really?” Bobby asked.

“It was the only thing I could think of!” you slapped a hand to your forehead and shook your head.

“Just like kissing me was the only thing you could come up with?” he asked with a raised brow.

You finally found your keys, unlocking the door and letting Bobby go inside before you.

“Okay, maybe the adrenaline got my wires crossed,” you admitted. “But I could say the same for you Captain Nash, you really committed to the bit for that kiss.”

“Well,” he coughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe my wires were crossed too.”

“Maybe we should cross them again,” you suggested, coming a little closer, “And never tell anyone about what happened tonight, like ever.”

“I can live with that,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing another kiss to your lips.

At the end of the day, both of you knew there was no one else you’d rather commit a felony with, and really, what more could you want in life than a partner in crime.

[green-typewriterz]

Some Kind of Animal, Cannibal

Sam Winchester x gn!reader

Summary: You and Sam get lucky when trying to find the missing people…the luck being you both get taken too.

ASK: N/A

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, illness, injury, refusing to eat, kidnapping, cannibalism, talks of feeling sick, it’s basically all angst, early seasons Sam (3-4)

Author notes: VERY INSPIRED by Possibly in Michigan - Animal Cannibal, Reader is smart and took criminology in college. loosely based off of season one episode fifteen, I thought of this when talking to myself at 12:03 am as any good fic writer does.

word count: 4012

The three of you had been in the small town of Bayfield, Wisconsin for almost a week now and still barely anything had come up about the seven missing people. From what you had figured out, there was a sort of pattern; they were always taken at night and it was always in pairs.

Dean assumed it was a demon, but something didn’t feel right to you. Demon’s were vicious, masochistic, it didn’t make sense for them to take a person and not parade the kill about the town for all to see. Sam thought it could be a vamp, maybe even a rugaru, but you weren’t sure.

”How’s the research goin?” Dean asked nonchalantly as he walked back into the damp motel room, a bag of beers and snacks in his hand. You looked up from your uncomfortable position on the bed with an exasperated look and Sam leaned back on his chair. That was all the answer he needed. “So we’ve still got no clue at all?” He continued, turning to look at you, “and you’re sure it’s not a demon.”

You shook your head, “not completely, but it just doesn’t make sense for the profile.” Sam smiled slightly as you spoke; you could’ve been an FBI agent (meaning you probably would’ve ended up crossing paths anyway) but instead you chose the hunting life. Despite this, the criminologist in you snuck out sometimes, something very useful to the two. “If it were a demon, it would be an outlier, one who had either devolved or worked differently.”

There was silence for a while and Sam sighed, pulling his hands through his hair. It was getting longer now, the tips of it tickling his jawline  every so often. “What if they’re human?” He began, “nothing about this screams monster.” Sam turned to look at you, wanting your input.

”Well what would you prefer, a monster who we know how to kill, doing something we’d expect, or a human, who may be completely insane, doing this purely because they can.” Somehow the second option seemed scarier to the three of you.

Time passed the three of you in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the low humming of MTV reruns coming from the TV Dean had put on. Sam was the first to fall asleep, leaning his head gently against his book. Dean followed soon after, his ability to fall asleep pretty much anywhere was something you had always envied. This left you in a half-awake stupor, trying to get some last few moments of research in before falling asleep like the two boys in front of you.

Eventually, you called it quits and closed your book, heading over to Sam to do the same for him. You gently replaced John’s diary with a small pillow and were placing Sam’s coat over his shoulders when you heard a crash outside. This area was known for raccoons but the noise sounded too loud to be an animal. You shook Sam awake and pulled the knife from your waistband, preparing for whatever might be outside.

Sam blearily looked over at you, standing up quickly despite the tiredness that clung to him when he saw the look in your eyes. He followed soon after, his gun firmly in his grip as the two of you walked out the door.

It was almost impossibly cold outside, the mist of the early morning clinging to your clothes. You pulled your jacket closer to you and turned round the corner into the alley, both of you with weapons raised. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a drunk guy?” Sam asked tiredly as he slowly lowered his gun. You shook your head in confusion and turned round to face him.

”It could’ve been, but something just…felt off.” You replied. It had always been impressive, your intuition - Dean had called it witch-adjacent. Neither of you were concentrating on your surroundings, talking quietly between yourself when Sam’s eyes widened and he went to raise his gun again. Though, you didn’t get a chance to fight back as pain bled through your skull. You fell to the floor as the sharp crack of Sam’s gun went off and the final thing you saw before darkness clouded over your eyes was Sam’s unconscious figure beside you. 

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

This is where you are now, waking to an unbearable pain, cold metal stinging against your skin as you come to your senses, your body racked with shivers. You sit up slowly, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. The only light that streams through was from a dirty, mould ridden window that tints the area with a sickly green. You can hear the sharp breaths of another person from across the room and small, pained cries echo across the dark every so often. “Y/n.” The voice whispers, out of breath and harsh. You move slowly, eyes flitting across the darkness to find the source of the voice.

Sam sits in a cage of his own, hands harsh against the iron bars. His hair is damp and slick against the side of his face, face hollow and pinched from the fug of the basement. “What the hell is going on?” You reply, voice sharp from sleep.

You can see the surroundings through the thin strips of light, sun warping itself around cracked glass - it was day. “I don’t know. You’ve been asleep for a while, maybe three days. God, I thought you were dead.”

Silence spreads like a cancer. It’s been three days. Where was Dean? Did he know you were both gone? Did he care? Of course he did. You push the thought from your mind and move across the cage, hands clasping cold metal. The area wasn’t tall by any regard and you had to crouch to walk across - you felt bad for how uncomfortable Sam must be.

Eventually, you reach the other side where Sam was sitting and look at him with the same, unnatural quiet. He reaches a shaking hand across the space and clasps it over your own. He is cold, hands sweaty - though you find that you don’t care. You and Sam had always been close, leaning against one another during research or allowing him to plait your hair (and you to him if he was stressed). You run your hands over his in repetitive, soothing motions and lean your head against the rusty metal.

Sam sighs, though you aren’t sure of the emotion behind it. His hands work over your knuckles, almost as if he was massaging them, though he moves away quickly when a door opens at the top of the stairs. It shines a new light in, one that’s warm and forgiving - it feels like a new world.

Eager heeled footsteps click down the endless stairs and come to rest by a third cage, her hands laying on the side as if it were simply a wall. “Thank goodness, I was wondering when you’d wake!” She speaks cheerily, hands now clasped together. The caged woman edges closer to the light, you can see a shining, silver cross necklace resting against her chest, the metal contrasting against her dirtied skin.

There’s an almost silent click and the door in front of you swings open, creaking and worn. Sam is first to exit, his hands being chained to a small lead she holds in her palm. You felt like a dog, some kind of rabid animal she was trying to tame. She leads the three of you up the stairs, metal chains clinking miserably against your wrist.

The two of you look around your surroundings, surveying every corner, crack and door with a pinprick precision. You can see Sam’s hand instinctively move to his waistband - though you know there’d be nothing there. The three of you are led into a small dining area, lit with the homely glow of candles. You could almost laugh at the difference.

Lori, as she had introduced herself, sits you down with a smile and places a plate in front of you. It’s warm and suddenly reminds you that you haven't eaten in a while. You share a wary look with Sam and lean back in your chair, you’re not an idiot.

The girl opposite you, a tangle of sinew and bone, eats silently, hair withered and face gaunt - God knows how long she’s been here.

She’s pretty, she would’ve been. The girl has a sharp hooked nose and deep brown eyes, skin dark and warm. But she’s lost her hope, and with hope goes will, strength and livelihood. Though beauty seems to have stayed.

From her, you come to the conclusion that the food wasn’t poisoned, but you don’t want to test it anyway - you won’t accept food from someone who kidnapped you.

The room is quiet, the only sound being the crackle of candles and the repeated scrape of a fork on a plate. 

It’s a winding path to sleep, something Sam doesn’t seem to be blessed with any more. His hands shake in yours, his eyes screwed shut. This is you, sitting, waiting for the path to end, withering resolve and aching eyes. This is you, standing on the shoreline as Hero - a goddess' daughter - as your Leander’s searchlight dims. This is you, letting time slip from your fingertips like golden blood.

The routine continues like a paper mobius strip, one that’s tearing. There’s an end, you can see it carving itself into marble - but it’s an ending you do not want for Sam.

It’s in this routine now, that you wake, hold a slowly succumbing hand in yours, refuse to eat and you hold Sam’s hand once more. It’s made you think more than you’d like, about time. About stories. Sam shivers, almost like clockwork now. His shirt is baggy against hollow bones and the tattoo on his breast seems wilted, like it won’t offer protection. He whispers too, short sentences you can never grasp.

The only word you’ve ever understood is a drawn out, yearning, “Please.”

There had been an offer of treatment, of safety. But Sam had seen to have found a sanctity in his suffering, he tells himself it’s a blessing, reminding him his limbs still ached, his body still yearned. Sam spits at the feet of his saviour and is rewarded with a harsh whip-like slap across his cheek.

He crumbles, rocks slipping from a cliff face, and grows still. “Sam?” You whisper, afraid. You were afraid most days now. 

There’s a moment, then a breath and you lean forward to brush the hair from his eyes. Dean would know what to do - he had always known. Instead you hold his hand again, there’s not much else you can do.

The woman in the corner weeps. It had been the first time she had dared to make a sound, perhaps the violence had scared her.

“Oh, my dear.” Lori speaks soothingly, smiling with bared teeth of mock sympathy. “Come along, let’s calm you down.”

The words feel like an attempt to cajole a scared kitten, but the glint in her eyes shines radiant in the dark. You and Sam don’t see the woman again.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

“Where do you think he is?” Sam asks, leaning against the bars. A welt has risen on his face and a large cut streaks across his angled cheek from Lori’s ring. He looks like a corpse, a victim of an illness that never stops taking.

You don’t reply, he nods. Every so often, Sam holds your hand, rubbing your palm with his thumb, and you’d be Hero once more, seeing Leander for the first time at the festival. Though, he lets go eventually (he always did) and as he pulls away, his livelihood drowns - searchlight fading.

In the evening, careful hands guid you up the stairs once more, careful not to touch the raw skin around the handcuffs. Hunger picks at you, stretching your skin over your bones. You look at Sam, allowing a mournful sigh to escape from you. The both of you are dying, it’s something you have accepted, but you can’t bear the thought that he’ll die before you.

You’ve listed every single thing that changed in your mind, every time he shivers, every time the bags under his eyes darken. Maybe it’s become a way to cope. The both of you sit and Sam’s near shoulder length hair falls in front of his eyes - it was an indication of how much time has passed. The both of you have no choice tonight, you have to eat.

This was the choice. You sit, silent, and know that you are giving in to the final piece of defiance you have. You watch while self-loathing washes over Sam’s face as he too is forced to make the same choice, his body weaker than his mind. This is the choice; let go of your morals. Or die.

It’s almost funny how quickly morals leave you in the face of death.

You find there’s no way to delay it either. You have already analysed every movement of Lori’s. Every breath is calculated, every smile is vicious and hungry. So, with one final look toward your closest friend, you bite into the grey meat, the taste of something akin to pork overwhelming you. It’s stringy, but it still tastes like the best thing you had ever eaten - perhaps it was the amount of time you had had in between meals. You take a bite of the mash on the side and feel something cold and metallic in your mouth.

You breathe in sharply and sit in place, slowly moving your hand toward your mouth. There’s a moment of emptiness before your realisation, a stillness as you hope the silver cross necklace you had pulled from your teeth did not mean what you thought it did. You release a shaky breath and hold a hand to your mouth, feeling sick to your stomach.

You had eaten her.

“Sam.”

The whisper is almost inaudible. You’d never spoken at the table before and, though it was allowed, you feel as though you’re breaking a rule. He looks up and his eyes widen, seeing how quickly your face has paled. You look down at the plate, then back at him, shaking your head in a warning motion.

It’s only now he sees the necklace in your palm, pieces of dried blood sticking to it. Lori hadn’t even bothered to clean it - she had probably meant to throw it away. You lean back in your chair, looking out the window to your left and seeing how the trees stretch for miles past it, leaves heavy with snow. You weren’t sure when it had snowed. You try not to cry.

“Are you alright dear?” Lori asks, tension cutting across the room. Your head turns slowly, tears falling down your cheeks like hot tar, eyes wide, sucking in quick breaths. Sam seems scared - you look animalistic.

You hold up the necklace. “Did you make us eat her?” Your voice is unnatural, toneless and uncaring - a stark difference to the look on your face. Lori smiles. All she ever fucking does is smile.

You stare silently, face set with fear as she approaches, placing a manicured and veiny hand on your shallow cheek. You turn your head to the side, but her hand never leaves your face.

“Did you enjoy it?” It almost wasn’t a question - not when she knew the answer. You turn back to face her and her hand moves across your face, coming to rest by the corner of your mouth.

If you were to be treated like some kind of animal, that’s what she’d receive. You bite down hard, ignoring the scream as your teeth carve through her finger. You get to bone and pull, degloving the skin and muscle from her finger and holding it in your mouth like a dog. Then, just as she looks back to you, you spit it onto your plate with an almost smile.

Sam looks at you with an unreadable expression. You meet his eyes, ignore the feeling that settles in your stomach and simply reply, “We’re done with our meal.”

Lori pushes you down the staircase and into one singular cage, being in too much pain to open each individually. This is your plan. She closes the doors and snaps the keys. This is your plan.

Sam is withering, flu-like and scared. “Why?” he asks quietly, moving from your arms. “Why would you do that?” his eyes are wide, begging. Tears litter his cheeks. He’s given up thinking there’s a way to be saved. He’s grown accustomed to dying behind rusted metal bars.

You don’t reply and with blood stained lips you kiss him, trying to offer reassurance. He returns your kiss with a sigh, his pained fever making his skin hot to touch. He leans into you, hands holding your waist as if you’d disappear. You pull away and cradle him, gently brushing shaking hands through his hair. You kiss his forehead every now and then, staining his skin with darkening red.

Everything about you is strangely calm. You don’t fear Lori, not now you have seen her bleed. She could die. She would. You fall asleep almost smiling; she would, she would.

Lori wakes you in the early morning, hand bandaged and face stern. There’s no more smiling. Thank God. Your confidence chipped at her, annoyed her. It’s your turn to smile now. She unlocks the cage to move you to your own - you knew she’d had a spare key, she loved theatrics. As soon as you stand to move to your own cage you sprint, knocking her to the floor.

You knew you would’ve won, but weak monsters always bring a weapon when they feared the Hero the most. Though, you refuse to be Hero. There is no Leander, there is no searchlight. It’s you and Sam: wild eyes, knotted hair and blood stains. 

A knife pushes you off of her, sinking itself into your abdomen with aim and anger. Lori had known you’d bite again.

Your breath escapes you, blood seeping from your sullen skin. You fall into the agony, screaming out to the sky. It’s not the single cut that would’ve killed you, it's the anger. Lori stands now, placing a foot against your throat. “A rabid dog bites three times before it’s greeted with death's hands, a rabid human? They get one chance.” She whispers, her words distant.

Behind the both of you, Sam slowly rises, hands clenched in fists, teeth baring. Her head hits the floor first, a horrible crack echoing in the basement. Screams had a way of sinking into you, biting at your heart, but these made you strong. You stand beside Sam as he hits her, ripping the fabric of your large jacket to tie around your wound.

You let him kill her.

Sam lifts you up the stairs and you help him walk through the cold, each taking turns to keep the other alive. You walk through the snow, damp and ripped clothes doing nothing to keep you warm. It feels as though it’s been hours and eventually, Sam collapses into you, the both of you falling to the soft snow. 

He kneels forward into you and you hold his face gently. The image was almost too familiar; Sam falling into the arms of someone he loves, face slick with tears and body weak. He had died too much already, you wouldn’t let it happen again.

You kiss his jawline so softly it might’ve been a snowflake landing on his bruised skin and he lifts his head. “Sorry.” he mutters repeatedly, a slurry of vowels and tears. You don’t dare to shush him, it wouldn’t help anything, it wouldn’t stop him. “I’m so sorry.”

You kiss him again. “None of this was ever your fault,” You whisper, voice tired and teeth stained. After a while, you try to move again, stumbling over only the iced floor. There’s a cough from Sam that pushes blood to his mouth, then he’s losing his footing again and falling into you, his hand pressing into the wound on your abdomen. You cry out, collapsing to the floor, spilling red on the pure white snow.

It’s his turn to hold you now, muttering endless apologies and ripping his own clothes to rebandage you; his skin is pale, a majority of his muscle eaten away by time and hunger. He looked like a corpse. You lie there, cold and silent as his hands shake, tying knots as though it’s routine. He pushes past his own pain, placing a blood stained hand on your cheek and whispering to you. You shiver under his touch and it shocks you how much you’ve missed being near him. You smile gently, and bury your head into his shoulder. The both of you sit there for a while, slowly freezing and holding each other with a softness you hadn’t felt in a while.

Eventually, you reach the road and lean against a barrier, slowly, softly. He kisses your collarbone as he leans into you and you both wait to die.

“I love you.” You whisper, ready to close your eyes and not open them again. He sighs almost contently, his lips finding your skin again. Your fingers were red and sore, blood picking at the frost.

“I love you,” he replies.

Just as the two of you close your eyes with a sad acceptance, there’s a roar of an engine you recognise. The wheels screech, a voice yells, but neither of you respond. Sam’s fallen asleep now and you don’t have the energy to speak. Hands grip your shoulders, press down to stop the flow of blood, scream your name. You can see him in a blur, but there’s not enough in you to react. Your eyes close and it’s something you’re ok with.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You wake up slowly, bleach biting at your nose. The room is stark white and clean - beeping rings in your ears. You’re alone. You climb out of the hospital bed and wince, the wound clean, but still painful. It didn’t take you long for you to find Dean, his voice loud against the hush of the ward. He turns, eyes locking onto you and grins, running over and leaving the doctor he was talking to behind. His arms wrap around you, soft and welcoming. “Thought the both of you had left me. Took me a month and a bit to find you.” He pulls away, smiling, “You’re both too strong, found your own way out.” He’s happy, Sam’s alive.

He sees the look in your eyes, he knows. “He’s inside, not awake yet.” He replies, voice softer now. You spare one more, thankful glance at your best friend and make your way to Sam’s room.

Sam lies there, still and peaceful. His cheeks are brighter and his bones hidden by strength once more. You sit by his side, eyes tired, and wait for him to wake up. He will, he has to. Eventually, sleep takes you and you lean against his bed, head resting on his chest to feel the gentle rise and fall. Your hand holds his, there’s not much else you can do.

“Aren’t you meant to be in your own bed?” A voice asks and your eyes open to see him smiling at you. His hair is brushed back and his skin is clean of dirt. He sounds okay.

You laugh slightly, smiling for the first time in a month and reply, “I had better things to do.” You lean forward, kissing his lips softly, careful not to hurt either of you. He returns the sentiment, hand tying itself into your hair. You hold his face, thumb tracing his jawline, and smile as you pull away.

He stays there, noses touching slightly. You’re centimetres apart. “You’re lucky I’m not infectious.” He whispers. You laugh again and move your hands to gently clasp the back of his neck.

“I wouldn’t care anyway.”

Sam kisses you again.

[fleet-off]

Headcanons regarding Pete and macau's relationship? Like their dynamics?

Ooohh, thank you for this question, anon! As it happens I have a whole essay of thoughts on Pete and Macau’s relationship, and I am currently going insane about it in an in-progress chapter of Menagerie. Have a free mini-snippet?

Pete hums. “Yeah, I figured your hia picked it up somewhere. He’s not half the original he thinks he is.” With a sideways glance, he adds, “You used to throw rocks at Khun Noo’s koi, too.” Macau’s ears heat up like he’s been caught with the pebbles in his hand. He whirls to face Pete. “I wasn’t mad, I was just,” he starts to protest, scrambling for the edges of the sneering mask that’ll let him pretend it doesn’t matter— Pete raises his eyebrows. He knows. “It’s easy to get vindictive when you’re angry about things you can’t control,” he offers. Pete is like that sometimes, under the feigned clumsiness and foolish-eyed smiles. He knows exactly what to say to make Macau feel uncomfortably understood. It’s fucking ruthless. Macau doesn’t know if he’ll ever quite be used to it.

Whoops, kiddo got perceived.

See, Macau has a lot of Vegas in him, and Macau is the reason Vegas has any capacity for tenderness. And Pete is very aware of this—Pete is the one who twice lists Macau as reason for Vegas to live. (side thought but. the parallel between Vegas and Porsche there, with Porsche having this directive from his mother to survive until Chay gets through college? and that not ultimately being enough to live for? simply fillet me okay I’m—)

Anyway. Pete knows he’s signing up for some Macau too, and that means signing up for the brat who likes to throw rocks and jumpscare poor unsuspecting spies. And Pete knows well that said brat is a teen with the family inferiority complex, that he is widely disregarded and ignored (in need of love), and that his world revolves around the only person in this world who has loved him and made him feel a part of things. And that person is—for the first month—lying comatose between them in a hospital bed.

Pete’s world revolves around the same broken-aching-tender point. And this is the part Macau knows even if he doesn’t know why, so for the first month? That’s where their dynamic lives.

And then Vegas is awake, and there’s a potential for happiness in him that simply was not there before, and it’s Pete. Pete can make Vegas better. That means it’s Macau’s job to help make sure Pete stays. And isn’t it fascinating that Macau goes straight for “in-law”? Straight for “family,” because in Macau and Vegas’s world family is the ultimate binding. Macau says in-law and means you’re part of us now. For better or for worse. For good.

(There is—not jealousy, but a niggling sense of personal insufficiency underneath. Macau’s world does revolve around Vegas. However miserable life gets, Macau has his big brother and that is enough to keep him living and pushing forward.

Macau isn’t enough to keep Vegas on this earth.

Which is. Fine. Nothing new. Macau’s never been enough, why would the most important person in his world be any different? He can help keep Vegas’s world here, and maybe that’ll count for something.)

I think it takes Macau several months to realize that Pete isn’t a silver bullet for his brother’s mental health and happiness.

Pete’s just a dude. He likes video games where he gets to play a secret agent. He and Vegas argue loud and make up louder. Dropping dishes makes him jumpy. He sweats and laughs a lot when he’s drunk, and swallows disgusting herbal concoctions the next morning to deal with the hangover. When he notices Macau’s expectations for him and Vegas, he either smiles too wide or goes very quiet and still and Macau’s not sure which is worse. Sometimes he forgets to lock the bathroom door. Sometimes Macau dozes off on his shoulder during movie night and he doesn’t move until Macau stirs awake.

Sometimes he fucks up, the way people do.

And Macau realizes: maybe the only person who can keep someone on this earth is the person themselves. And maybe Vegas sometimes needs his brother, the one who made his crooked arms a cradle. And maybe Pete and Macau sometimes need each other too, because their world is hard and there are struggles only the two of them know—as if by dull fluorescent light, as if by the steady-prayer beat of a heart monitor. And definitely, always, the three of them need each other.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies, mostly related to previously posted stuff + a couple of random ones.

Anonymous asked:

THOUGHTS ON THE NEW IDIA CARD🎤

Anon…. It’s so good that I feel overwhelmed and tired and want to take a nap after just thinking about it. It’s so good that one of the first thing I said to Katsu about it was that I want to break his limbs. It’s perfect. Grey tshirt WITH FUCKING PREMO ON IT, deep-blue tracksuit with beautiful orange accents, the i-fell-asleep-in-front-of-my-pc-and-salivated-all-over-my-face thing in contrast to his regular card having a babygirl pillow hugging pose… And ORTHO IS FUCKING THERE AS WELL AHHHHHH of course OF COURSE ORTHO WOULD BE THERE, apparently the best birthday tribute Idia Shroud could get is him being a brocon. Shroudcest nation, did we win? Again?

This is peak. It’s very good. I can talk about it for ages but I’d rather express my frustration with his perfect Idia-ness with drawings…

😭😭😭 insanity.

Anonymous asked:

WOOO, BACHIRA!!! Are you guys reading blue lock? Bachira is ridiculously adorable and weirdly sexy too, haha, I hope he gets worse (I read somewhere that the main character, Isagi, his best friend, has already gotten used to Bachira's weirdness, which ACTUALLY freaks Bachira out, LOL)

It was just one of the portraits from our 6 fanarts thingie! Bachira was one of the requested characters; so nope, we aren’t reading Blue Lock. Which doesn’t mean that I won’t wish for Bachira to become worse… he absolutely should! Especially if the other guy is already used to his weirdness; better raise the stakes lol

Anonymous asked:

Opinions on sebek x Epel ? (Also called GreenApple :3)

Awww, GreenApple!

They’re cute, we loved them in the Harveston event. The fact that Epel, being a silly boy that he is, is still cunning enough to make Sebek do what he wants (i.e. go to the Harveston with him) is honestly impressive, I think it’s a wonderful dynamic. Epel going “oh if only there was a strong man around 🥺” and Sebek immediately going “WELL I AM STRONG 😤”… Is Epel getting better at cute seduction or is Sebek just that gullible?

Anyways, while I wouldn’t say that we actively ship them or have any ideas for them, but when they get to interact, it’s pretty delightful.

Anonymous asked:

I tried the thing with slapping my boobs. The sound is there, but it feels like you are running sideways w/o a sports bra. I am mostly asleep so lmk if this doesn't make sense to u and I write it when my blood pressure isn't forcing me to pass out. DW, though that is supposed to happen w/ these meds. Gn!

- 🍈🗡 Anon

Anon! I am pretty late with my reply to this one, but still: I hope you’re feeling well! :( Take care of yourself.

As for the boob slapping, yeah, I guess this isn’t the most pleasant sensation lol Maybe it depends on a person though…

Anonymous asked:

Does anyone else ever think about how funny it would've been if Crewel was a Dalmatian Beastman,  or is it just me?

I mean, that would’ve been pretty cute if you ask me! I don’t even think he would mind that, it would look pretty stylish!

[1moreff-creator]

DR:OS CH1 Part 4 First Impressions + Initial Murder Theory

Investigation time! That means that while my first impressions through the chapter are going to be just as non-cohesive as always, there will be an extra, more well-thought out section at the end where I go in depth on the evidence to see what kind of murder theory I can come up with! Very excited to get into this, given how insane this case seems just from the Body Discovery alone. Let's get into it!

CWs here.

“Even if it contains a lie, I should still look at the Monoquin File first. I just know that Kennedy is gonna try to psychoanalyze it in court, and I don’t wanna be caught off guard.” Hell of a reason to review a piece of evidence xD

“The victim is Cassidy Torres. They died in the Upper Common Room at approximately 2 AM due to poisoning. She has been stabbed in the stomach as well.” She was poisoned! Or, well, I guess that could be a lie lol. The possible lies are location of death (her torso could have been moved), time of death, poison, or stabbing. Looking at the stomach should clarify whether that last one is the truth or not though. For right now, I'm leaning to the time or location being the lie, but who knows. In any case:

Truth Bullet Obtained: Monoquin File #1

“Mark: …Everyone. I know this is going to be hard, but… we have to do this, okay? Standing around isn’t going to solve the mystery.

Vivi: Right. Okay, listen up! I’m gonna ask that people help me round up all the pieces of the body in the Infirmary. I’m gonna take a better look at them there.” Interesting that Mark's the one who speaks up first. Are we possibly looking at an Ultimate Detective of some kind? Probably not lmao. Also Vivi moving such important pieces of evidence around sounds like trouble. I get that you're not experienced in this, but come on :v

I'm also seeing that a lot of the usual steps in investigations, like getting two people to guard the crime scene or arranging investigations in pairs, isn't happening. Cool!

“Despite Mark’s words, there’s something definitively crisper about the way they’re talking. I almost want to ask, “does this bring anything back for you?”, but that seems unnecessarily rude and accusatory.” Huh. Maybe I wasn't actually that off with the detective guess lmao.

“Mark: I’ve been looking through Cass’ e-Handbook.

They turn it so that I can see it.

Mark: There’s not really much to gain from it, though. Just the one message to Jeff, which we saw her send. No notes, no other messages, nothing.

Ellis: Wait. Where’d you get your hands on that?

Mark: …In the pants pocket. Of her legs.

Ellis: You found their legs??” Holy hell they move fast! They've been split for one second and people are already finding more body parts??? Damn. Also where?

“Ellis: No notes, though? Seems kinda weird, considering that it seems like they were looking into Antonia and the two of us as potential mastermind candidates. Maybe she was the type to keep things in her head?

Mark: Maybe. I’d definitely take notes, if I were them…

Mark wipes a smudge off the screen thoughtlessly. When pink appears on their white glove though, they furrow their brows.

Mark: Given the state of the body, it makes sense that there would be blood, but that doesn’t mean I like it.

Ellis: I’d have to imagine that chopping Cass’ body up like that would produce tons of blood.

But then, where did all that blood go…?” No notes is strange, I wonder if someone erased them? Then again, unless the notes can be restored somehow, I don't see how that would be brought into the trial. The blood thing is definitely important though. I do love how the blood is described as pink, btw, very funny :v

“Cass’ room looks pretty normal and undecorated. The only notable thing seems to be a laptop on her desk, which has some kind of device plugged into one of the USBs.” So she wasn't dismembered in her room, which is kinda what I'd been expecting. Unless the killer put a tarp under them or something. But that USB thing sounds interesting. 

“Ellis: What, like a tracking device? Is it something in here, or something outside?

Mark: I’m not sure. It’s tracking when something activates… some kind of sensor, maybe? It was quiet pretty much all night, but it just activated a bunch of times a few minutes ago.” Motion sensor? Where? Why? Was Cass tracking Ellis and Antonia's movements maybe? 

“Mark points to a small fleck on the wall. Upon closer inspection, though, it appears to be a tiny sensor.

Ellis: What the… How did you find that?

Mark: Uh… I don’t know. I guess I knew where to look…? I was just using logic.” Well that sounds like a motion sensor alright! Very interesting… Also yeah Mark definitely has a talent for this, be it Detective or Escape Room Master or Puzzlemaster or Logic User (?) but they've definitely have something going on.

“Ellis: So then, Cass was trying to track who entered the Upper Common Room?” That is very strange. Sounds like the question of why Cass was doing that is gonna be a pretty important point of this trial. {Hindsight: Maybe they were just doing the "neighborhood watch" thing actually :v}

“I march back into Cass’ room, and wait for the results of whatever the hell Mark is about to try. As I watch, I get more familiar with the display. Looks like there were two overnight triggers: one at 1 AM and one at 6 AM.“ So the 2 AM time of death looks… I don't know actually. It kinda sounds like Cass might have died at 1? Unclear for now. But that is a very long time. How early do these people get up again? If some people are already up by 6, then it'd be very dangerous to move the body around then. 

Okay let me finish this section before I speculate more.

“Mark: If you stand in front of the sensor and move around, it doesn’t do anything. And, if you’re trying to avoid the sensor, you can step over it.” This seems like it's very important. The fact Cass can avoid the sensor explains a few worries I had just thinking about it, so this helps. 

“Mark quickly heads over to the sensor and takes a pillow off one of the chairs. Though they throw it in the path of the sensor, nothing appears on the screen.” Huh? Alright, so it's not just motion, it's probably infrared looking for heat, would be my guess? 

Truth Bullet Obtained: Cass’ e-Handbook

Truth Bullet Obtained: Floor Movement Tracker

Alright, so what did we learn? Something very important, actually. I'm gonna assume the killer's the one who set the sensor off at 1 and 6 AM, because I don't have any reason to assume they weren't for now. 

There's two options here: either their room is on the fourth floor, in which case Cass died and was dismembered before 1 AM (time of death being the lie in the File) and the killer spent 5 hours during the night spreading the body around before returning at 6; or what I find a bit more likely, the killer's room isn't on the fourth floor, so the 1 AM trigger is them going up there, possibly waiting an hour for the poison to kill Cass (or the time is a lie), and spending 5 hours dismembering her before going to spread the body and return to their room after 6. More evidence is gonna be needed to say for sure what happened, though.

“Taylor: We’ve been messaging people. It sounds like the pieces were found here, in the Movie Theater, the Customer Service Area, the Infirmary, and the Casino.” Interesting, I guess? We still don't know why the killer did the dismemberment so.

Truth Bullet Obtained: Locations of the Body

I don't have much to say about this one for now. I don't see anything immediately meaningful about the locations, so.

“Grace: While Vivi was rounding up the body, I gathered these. They’re all identical, and pieces of the body were found in all of them.

Ellis: I assume it wasn’t just our box that seemed impossible to open at first glance?

Grace: Yes, that’s the general consensus.” What are these things, anyways?

“Grace: We didn’t do anything. All of the boxes opened at exactly 8:15 AM. I found timer mechanisms inside; they were all set to open at the same time.” … What? I guess that's to avoid an early discovery. Don't know why else that would happen, or why the killer would want breakfast to happen before the body was found, though.

“Ellis: Sharp timing.

Grace: I can respect that much about them, even if I can’t respect anything else.” Pfft. Grace's love of punctuality is really funny.

Truth Bullet Obtained: Timer Boxes 

“Vanessa: All the boxes opened at 8:15. That’s when the BDA went off.

Antonia: Obviously, Monoquin instructed everyone to arrive at our location, but I’m not sure if we can truly say that we three discovered the body. After all, everyone had a hand in it, didn’t they? I see no reason why the torso in particular would signal the discovery.” Well, there goes BDA based elimination of suspects. Shame. Pretty interesting way to go around it, though.

“But, would the killer really go to all that horrible effort just to dodge that one effect of the rule? I’m starting to feel like a sicko myself for even having the thought…” I agree with Ellis, dismemberment is the kinda thing that requires a little more justification from a strategic standpoint than just dodging BDA reasoning. And yes it always is a bit of a trip to think about such things from the perspective of the killer, but don't worry Ellis, you'll get used to it.

Truth Bullet Obtained: Body Discovery Announcement

Wonder how this is gonna come up in the trial lol.

[Jeff's Account] Well, they weren't lying about the Ultimate Absentee intuition, huh. Still, though, kinda huge that there wasn't anything in the Movie Theater at 2:30, because it gives credence to the idea that the killer was still in the fourth floor at that time. That would imply that my second idea for the tracker is more likely, that the killer came from a different floor at 1 and left the fourth floor at 6. 

Then again, the fact that the Movie Theater defaults to dark instead of lit is strange, wonder how that plays into it.

Truth Bullet Obtained: Jeff’s Account

Truth Bullet Obtained: Resort Lighting

[Dollies and Black Sheet] Well, that explains a few things, I guess. I wonder if the killer could ask staff to help hide the body…

Nope, Rule 12, got it. Still, this one's pretty straightforward, thankfully. Also, around this time I'm really getting restless for the autopsy for some reason lol.

“Ellis: Sucks to see you.

Aidan: What a warm greeting.

Ellis: Well, I was trying to trick you into complimenting me or flirting with me. I deserve it, after everything you’ve put me through.

Aidan: I don’t think you really do…” Pfft- Ellis, is this really the time? xD

“He hands me the list from the desk. Among lots of regular orders, there’s a section Aidan’s flipped to of several anonymous orders from four days ago: poison, five timer boxes, and a large black sheet.” Welp. Can't really get much more explicit than that with this one lol.

"Ellis: If anyone can stumble into something like this, then clearly their real talent lies somewhere beyond what Monoquin told us. Unless it’s Mark, I guess. That is the kind of move that would make me go ???.” How do you even pronounce triple question mark with your mouth??? 

“Aidan: Anyone could’ve been lying to us about what they do or don’t know. It’s not like anyone’s going to admit to knowing how to do any of this.

He pauses.

Aidan: Other than Vivi, anyway.

Ellis: Point taken.” Pfft.

Truth Bullet Obtained: Customer Service Order List

(Btw since this thing became a real Truth Bullet, I removed it from my personal non-canon Notes :p)

“Harper quickly leans down to pick up the poker chips. However, as ver hand touches the floor, ve pauses.

Harper: It’s wet.

Ellis: With water, or…?

Harper: It seems to be water, yes.” ??? Alright so this one's breaking all sorts of ideas I had. If blood was spilt here… What does it mean? I got nothing for now, I'll come back to it ig. {Hindsight: I realize it sounds like I think the liquid is blood and not water lol. I should have clarified that my first instinct was that blood was spilt on the carpet and got washed :p}

Also I wonder to what extent the fact that Noah accidentally knocked the chips down was affected by Ellis’ luck. I've always found it funny how any time Ultimate Luck is involved, you can easily write out plot convenience as Ultimate Luck business xD

“Noah: If [Staff members] break a rule, do they get executed…?

Harper: There are certainly a lot of questions surrounding this place…” Good question! Interesting to think about.

Truth Bullet Obtained: Damp Casino Carpet

“The pieces have been laid out on the Infirmary’s bed, roughly recreating Cass’ normal figure. Vivi looks over the body while Kennedy stands nearby. Robert sits on a nearby chair, looking decisively away from the body.” Bro get my boy Robert outta there, he probably wants to be literally in any other room ToT. 

“Vivi: Yeah. Stabbed in the stomach, then cut up into pieces. Sewed the seams of the pieces for transport, put them in boxes. Pretty simple, once you boil it down to basics.” Well. Cass sure was stabbed, so there goes one possible lie. Also "pretty simple” is wild.

“Vivi: I mean, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t done a few Vivi-sections before, but on a person…?

Robert: …Do you mean dissections…?

Vivi: …Yup!” Judging from that triple dot, Vivi's absolutely done actual vivisections hasn't she. At least they haven't done it on humans I guess.

“Kennedy: It was found in five groups. The arms were together, and the legs were together. Then there was one for the stomach, one for the torso, and one for the head.” Well… more info!

“Vivi: So, did you wanna hear my autopsy?

Ellis: Go ahead. It’ll be… music to my ears…

Ugh, even my lines aren’t faring well…” Yeah no xD

"Vivi: The stab wound, while it might’ve been fatal if untreated long enough, wasn’t the cause of death. The poison was.” So I was right last week about the poison being the murder weapon. Still heavily side-eyeing Paris because of the “Toxic” cover, because judging from… everything going on, it's the type of foreshadowing I could see this completely demented (/positive) writer pulling off :p

“Vivi: The time of death… It’s not really my specialty, and there’s only so far you can get with forensics. I think that Cass died sometime between 1 and 2:30, which could support the File. It could still be a little off, though.” Hm… I wonder how close to the actual time of death the file needs to get to be considered correct. But I'm starting to really consider the idea that the murder happened in the Casino… I'll come back to it.

"Vivi: The poison seemed to be pretty fast-acting… the stab wound happened before she died… aaand, I think it’d take any killer a few hours to cut up and sew the body, even if they did have experience with it. Though, given the time of death, that’s pretty achievable for anyone.” Stabbed before she died is actually quite huge. Again, more stuff to think about. 

Truth Bullet Obtained: Chopped Body

Truth Bullet Obtained: Vivi’s Autopsy

“Dun, Dun, Dun, Dun!” Yeah, it felt like it was coming. I'll finish the part, then really start thinking about the murder.

“To cut up the body like that, hemming their edges and scattering them about the resort like a cat with a bird… that’s fucked up!!! My first thought is clearly that someone like Vivi (...or, looking at the rest of the field, just Vivi, I guess) must have done the crime.” Bruh. Why does no one trust the clearly mentally unstable doctor with the evident ability to perform the murder? No respect for the classics smh.

Also I love the images in this section! Particularly appreciate the Cass one, I like seeing where she was cut because I'm insane! :D

“Or did the killer know something that could be used to target her that we didn’t?” Hey, I was kinda thinking the same thing!

Why is Paris still smiling like nothing's wrong is she crazy? I love her.

“Like, I had assumed that we were just gonna deal with a “Professor Plum with the rope in the kitchen” situation, and we’d figure out who didn’t have an alibi for 3 PM.” Okay so the professor Plum thing is apparently a reference to the board game Clue (or maybe the movie or something, idk I only know the board game), which I guess makes sense for Ellis to think about since it’s close enough to other luck based board games that are actually seen in casinos lol.

However, the fact Ellis chose to reference "Professor Plum” specifically worries me. Surely, he doesn't actually think plum is a good name for a color, right? Can't believe accirax would let her silly ideas of what colors are called seep into the characters she plays smh, that shit's purple call it what it is (/silly reference). 

“I’m gonna have to get used to this, won’t I? Now that brutal blood has been spilled and new motives are queued to the setlist, there’s no way that Cass’ death will be the only one. I hope they won’t all be just like this, but… yikes. Not to mention, all future killers will now have a better grasp of what these “Class Trials” are like. Sheesh. With a crime this bizarre, I kinda feel like I have to pitch in. Should I go grab a cheerleader outfit?

…I guess if I come up with something brilliant, I can speak up, too. Who wouldn’t want to hear my melodic voice?” Come on Ellis, you should have a little more confidence in yourself! You're played by a really smart person, after all ;) As long as no one asks you to name colors, you'll be fine. 

[CLASS TRIAL: START] Woohoo!

-

Extremely fun chapter! The investigation was very well paced, and has a great mix of answers and questions to raise! Cannot wait for the trial, it's gonna go crazy. 

But of course, now that the evidence is there, you know what we need to do.

Pre-Trial Murder Theory

Let's start by looking at the cause of death, because this is the quickest mystery to explain. There's obviously a few questions that arise just looking at how Cass died, especially taking account they died during the night. Mainly, how did Cass get poisoned that late in the night, when she'd probably not trust any food given to her? And, why was she stabbed if the poison was fast acting and the real cause of death anyways? Without knowing what the poison was and what the stabbing implement looks like, these are tough to answer.

I thought up a few different explanations (such as the stabber and the poisoner being two separate people), but what I find most likely is that, in reality, the stabbing and the poisoning weren't two different attacks on Cass' life. No, I believe Cass was stabbed with a sharp object tipped with poison. That would explain why the stab was necessary while still giving an explanation to how Cass got poisoned in the first place.

The next question would be the water on the casino carpet. This one has a pretty straightforward explanation, but it's important to mention now. Basically, at first glance, it seems Cass was actually murdered in front of the locked door in the casino (the place the water was according to E-Handbook text), potentially lured there by the killer saying they had a way to open that door (complete speculation, I don't really know). The water would come from the killer washing the carpet... I guess. As a result, the Monquin File Lie would be the location of death.

The other explanation is that the killer may have taken the carpet outside the casino, murdered Cass somewhere else, and used the carpet to soak up all the blood from the dismemberment, before washing it and putting it back in the casino. However, given we don't know of any other place where the murder could have happened, I find the first option more likely.

And believe it or not, that, combined with the floor movement tracker, potentially narrows down our suspect list... or does it? [cue Vsauce music]. See, assuming Cass avoids her movement tracker (which is a pretty big assumption, to be clear), the killer trips it once at 1 AM, and once at 6 AM. Assuming Cass died in the casino at 2 AM, that would mean that the 1 AM detection represents the killer leaving the fourth floor, and the 6 AM detection represents them going back into the fourth floor, presumably to leave the torso up on the upper common room. However, the sensor isn't tripped again until the next morning, meaning the killer must have stayed in the fourth floor. They probably couldn't have slept in Cass' room, because it was locked (see: "Mark walks over to the door to Cass’ room. After displaying the e-Handbook, the door unlocks") and Cass' E-Handbook was locked inside one of the 8:15 AM boxes. That means the only option is that the killer's room is on the fourth floor...

Or is it? Let me run through the proceedings, and see if you can spot the issue.

The killer goes up to Cass' room, and tells them they have something to show her in the casino. For some reason, Cass believes them, and goes with them. On the way, Cass avoids her movement sensor, but the killer trips it, generating the 1 AM reading.

Now, an interesting issue is that these two leave the fourth floor at 1AM, but Jeff was wandering around until 1:30 AM (again info from the E-Handbook, I don't think the guy actually says it), and didn't see anyone. I believe this is where the resort lighting comes in: Cass and the killer didn't want to be spotted (I guess?), so when they noticed Jeff was wandering around, they hid in the Movie Theater's darkness until Jeff finally went into the Lower Common Room (third floor).

In any case, they wait a bit more to make sure Jeff is actually gone gone, and finally get down to the casino around 2 AM. The killer stabs Cass with a poison tipped sharp object, and Cass dies very quickly.

Then, the killer does something that causes a noise at 2:30 AM that Jeff hears. I'm gonna be honest, I don't have a great answer for this one. My current guess is that the killer maybe went to retrieve the dolly from the Customer Service Desk (second floor), and somehow made a noise loud enough to be heard from the third floor? Possibly operating the elevator or rolling the dolly down the stairs if it's too big for the elevator or something. Both the elevator and the stairs down to the first floor are directly under the lower common room, so I don't find it 100% impossible. Maybe Jeff just sucks at identifying the direction sound comes from?

Yeah this is the weakest point of my theory imo.

In any case, after the noise is made, the killer dismembers Cass. I imagine they did this over the black tarp found in the Costumer Service Desk, so they could avoid soaking the Casino carpet with more blood than necessary. In fact, washing that carpet before the blood dried is probably important, but that's a minor point.

The dismemberment takes a while, but with no one around, it's easy enough to pull off before morning comes. The killer then distributes the body pieces throughout the building for as of yet undisclosed reasons. They return to the fourth floor, hide the torso in the upper common room box, and finally go back to their room. And because the sensor was only tripped once at 6 AM, the killer's room must be on the fourth floor, right?

...

Right?

...

Did you spot the problem?

...

That's right. The dolly's final location.

Indeed. The day after the murder, the dolly is found in the Costumer Service Desk, on the second floor. And since this dolly was presumably used to distribute the body parts (see: blood on the dolly), that means the killer would need to somehow go into the fourth floor to drop off the torso and back down to the second floor to drop the dolly off in a way that only set off the sensor once. That's a problem.

So, how do we explain this? I considered a few options. For one, I thought that maybe the killer could have killed Cass in her own room at 2 AM, or the upper common room at 1 AM (the lie in the Monoquin file being location or time of death respectively). If they went into the fourth floor with the dolly and tarp, they could have dismembered Cass then and there (presumably in Cass' own room to avoid other people seeing), put their torso in the box of the upper common room, and left to distribute the rest of the corpse at 6 AM. However, that fails to explain the carpet in the casino and the noise at 2:30 (not that I have a great explanation for the latter anyways, but y'know), and there are no signs of struggle in the fourth floor that could point to this possibility. Because of that, while I consider this possible, I don't consider it the most likely option.

Then, there's the other option. The killer did everything I described, but did something strange that caused the sensor to only go off once at 6 AM. For example, leaving the dolly in the CSD before dropping off the torso, and carrying said torso up to the fourth floor by hand. The problem is that the killer has no reason to treat the box on the fourth floor any differently than the others, so they wouldn't have any reason not to go into the fourth floor with the dolly.

That is, of course, unless the killer knew about the sensors.

It makes sense, doesn't it? Cass would need to trust someone very heavily to follow them out during night, and especially if I'm right about them going into the darkness of the Movie Theater together. Hell, she even said in Part 3:

"Mark: Then… what should we do?

Cass: The same things you’ve been doing. All you need to do is keep an eye out for any suspicious activity and engage in safe behavior. Stay in groups or well-lit areas. Don’t go out at night. Those sorts of things should keep you safe enough while we figure out the mysteries of this place."

So they're clearly aware of the dangers they took going out, but they still did it. If they trusted the killer this much, I don't think it's impossible that they might have told the killer about the sensors.

This is where the lack of notes in Cass' E-Handbook could come in. If Cass told the killer about the sensors, she might have written that down as a note. And since that note would have likely included the identity of the killer, said killer chose to wipe out all the notes to avoid being implicated through them. They likely did this with bloody hands, explaining the blood on Cass' handbook. In this process, they could have also wiped incriminating chat logs, if any existed. Assuming that's a thing they can do, of course.

In any case, the killer knowing about the sensors could allow them to easily tamper with the info simply by dodging detection whenever they wanted, as the sensors are easy to dodge if you know they're there. Keeping in line with the theory I was working with, they could have intentionally tripped it when they went up to the fourth floor with the dolly and the torso, and dodged detection on the way down (or the other way around, it's indistinct).

The big question, then, becomes "why?" What were they trying to accomplish by screwing with the readings? Well, to know that, we need to figure out what location the killer wants the cast to believe is the real death location.

See, if the cast thinks Cass died on the fourth floor and takes the readings at face value, they would arrive at the conclusion that the killer's room is on the third floor. Conversely, if the cast thinks Cass died on any other floor and takes the readings at face value, then they would arrive at the conclusion that the killer's room is on the fourth floor. Do the math in your head if you don't believe me. But if the readings were tampered with, we'd need to flip that. A fourth floor killer would want the cast to believe the killer's on the third floor, so they'd want the cast to think Cass was murdered on the fourth floor. Meanwhile, a third floor killer would want the cast to think Cass was murdered somewhere else.

Does that make sense? Sorry if this is hard to follow, I don't know how to explain it in any simpler way :v

And, well, where does the killer want the cast to think Cass was murdered? I think it's hard to say for sure, but given they hid evidence she died in the casino by washing the carpet, and that they left the dolly in the second floor (which would imply the killer wants people to interpret the 6 AM reading as the killer leaving the fourth floor), I'm gonna say the killer wants people to believe the killer lives on the third floor. Which especially makes sense if they want to frame Antonia, who was Cass' number 1 hater up until their death and happens to live on the third floor. With this, it's very possible the killer lives on the fourth floor.

The fourth floor room havers are Kennedy, Ellis, Vivi, Robert, Grace, Cass, Noah, and Harper. Ellis can't be the killer through protag privilege, Robert has been shown to be too queasy to pull this off, and I'm gonna go out on a limb (pun not intended) and say Cass didn't somehow dismember themselves. Crazy assumption, I know.

As for the others, Vivi can probably be eliminated due to how useful she's been, and Harper's the one who originally found the water on the casino carpet that the killer wouldn't want found. Noah's a weird case, because he originally thinks the water is unrelated, which could be a blackened play, but he flags down the staff member to ask about it, which suggests he genuinely believed that, which is spotless behavior. Finally, I can't really see Kennedy as the first killer, though I think she's the second most likely of the fourth floor just because I don't actually have any real evidence to clear them.

That leaves us with Grace- how has this happened again. I swear I don't have anything against Clockmakers, they just keep being in the wrong place, and ironically at the wrong time :v

However, just because I think Grace is the most likely to be the killer out of the fourth floor crew, doesn't mean I think they're the most likely overall. It's possible the killer didn't think about the implications of the dolly, and that there's an even more elaborate plan at play here.

Here's the idea I'm working with for a third floor killer. They'd effectively have two separate ideas at play during the trial. First, they'd try to convince the cast to vote for Antonia, because she's likely going to be the number one suspect due to her pre-existing beef with Cass. For that to happen, they need the cast to think the murder happened in the fourth floor, be it Cass' room or the common room, because there's no way Cass would follow Antonia literally anywhere else on the building. That's why they'd initially try to hide the blood on the casino carpet, so that the first plan doesn't fall apart immediately. However, if Antonia gets cleared somehow, they have another card to play. They can reveal that they "found" the water on the casino floor (or wait for someone else, like Harper, Noah or Ellis to do it), implying Cass was murdered there, and with the sensor readings, argue that the killer must live on the fourth floor. Of course, this assumes that the dolly's final location is an oversight by the blackened, and probably the mistake that would lead to the killer's downfall.

Now, make no mistake, this is fucking insane even for my standards, especially for a first trial, but I think it makes enough sense to maybe work.

This is how Paris!Culprit can still win, which if you don't remember, is born from the fact that Paris made Cass and Antonia's beef public (establishing motive for a potential frame job), that she could start talking to Cass with the excuse of getting help with the "Paris Pairs" idea mentioned in Part 3, and that she covered Toxic in Part 1. Though, admittedly, Mark being the one to find the sensor readings is suspicious in its own right, but I don't really think they're the killer, especially since they'd have the least motive to escape out of anyone. No one else on the third floor really strikes me as particularly suspicious, especially since third floor killers require fifteen more hoops to jump through than fourth floor killers with my murder theory.

Overall, I think Grace, Paris, and Noah are my main suspects, and if I have to lock just one in... I really don't want to say Grace because it'd just be ridiculous at this point (I already said they might be the mastermind someone save my pal T_T), so I'll say Paris and hope that the clinically insane mindgames I described in the third floor killer idea make enough sense to anyone else.

Of course, though, this entire theory is just that, a theory. There's a very high chance that I'm just completely off the mark, and that'd be perfectly fine! This is all just for fun, after all, and I'm just a silly Tumblr user thinking too hard about fictional characters. I'm by no means an expert in solving murders or anything lol. Extremely excited to see just how horrendously wrong I am next week, I'm sure the trial will be absolute peak!

If you made it this far, you've earned a complimentary poison tipped knife! Please be careful with it. See ya'!

Truth Bullets:

Monoquin File #1 - Cass’ E-Handbook - Floor Movement Tracker - Locations of the Body - Timer Boxes - Body Discovery Announcement - Jeff's Account - Resort Lighting - Customer Service Order List - Chopped Body - Vivi's Autopsy

Canon Notes:

Staff Members - Customer Service Desk - Monoquin’s Hands - Killing Game Explanation - Monoquin File Lies

Personal Notes:

Clockmaker’s Intuition - Kennedy’s Spiked Rings - Noah’s Earbuds - Robert's Queasiness