#except for the fringe ofc

[creatureprofessor]

'i am a normal, regular person' i say. then i remember that I had a haircut eerily similar to that of Friar Carl from Van Helsing (2004) for nearly a year. with the ends of my hair deliberately curling upwards and everything. i got my BA degree sporting that hairstyle.

[redcoralpot]

Stu!! I love seeing ppl love him. Would I be able to request some roleswap ish au, where reader is a slasher, and stu is the "final girl". He gets caught ofc, and reader unmasks, smut ensues (maybe stu had a crush or smth, maybe dubcon if u accept it).

Unrelated: Loved seeing Matthew lillard as william Afton, he did so good.

Ruined Man - Stu Macher X M!Reader

Summary: Stu Macher was a classic rich boy; arrogant, eccentric, and an asshole. He was known for playing cruel pranks on others, and earlier in the weak, he pranked Sidney by scaring her as the infamous Ghostface Killer. Maybe, just maybe, he deserved a taste of his own medicine. Trick or treat, right?

Warnings: NSFW, non-fatal violence, weapons.

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I don't write anything with SA, CNC, or dub-con; Stu plainly consents to the activities described. He has implied feelings for the Reader, and other implied activities as well... but I'll let you discover that part.

-

-

Crickets chirped in the grass, the crescent moon high in the sky. Finally, the noise from the Macher’s Halloween party had died down, and most people had left already, causing a blanket of peace to float down on the street. Any stragglers were drunkenly slumped against the curb, blacked out or calling for a sober ride. Your mask stuck out from the shadows, exaggerated and white, as you watched the property slowly become empty. Well, empty except for the host, of course. Stu Macher.

You could see him through one of the many windows, lounging on the first floor’s living room couch, still moving. Your fingers fumbled against the phone’s dial– god, how do killers run in this shit– pulling the black fabric further up your arm to position the voice changer closer to your mouth. Now, you patiently waited for the other man to pick up, seeing him jolt out of his position. Stu rubbed his eyes, and stumbled to the kitchen.

“Yo?”

Your lips curled into a nasty sneer, “Do you like scary movies, Stu?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Don’t make me choose, you know I’ve watched too many good ones!”

…

Huh? There was no way he knew your identity already. You’ll give him credit, he’s smart, but most definitely not that smart. Stu always visits the rental store Randy works at, and he always rented horror movies with Sidney’s boyfriend, Billy Loomis; that much you knew. He could not have seen you through the window before he ran into the kitchen, and even if he managed to, your mask was still securely strapped on.

“You still there? I haven’t dropped off Hellraiser yet, you could've just asked if you wanna watch it again.”

You hung up, breath quickening. Stu wasn’t scared, even though you were using the same voice changer as the loose, prank-calling murderer running around the streets of Woodsboro. You dumped the phone on the ground, hidden behind a bush. If he wasn’t scared by a little sound-a-like, that was fine, you came prepared. Stu’s garage door had been left open, and you jogged over. Frankly, it didn’t matter how much the rich boy had it coming, you were never doing this again. The costume’s long fringes caught on your feet, almost causing you to trip as you avoided the windows; less silent than you had hoped. Your shoes shuffled against the concrete, and you jiggled the handle of the only door, praying it would open. It creaked as you slipped inside, your shoes surely creasing when you tiptoed into the living room. From behind the couch, you could see that Stu was still in his kitchen, but he was looking around.

He grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Nobody else’s here, Billy. You don’t gotta sneak into my house, you know that!”

 Sighing, you watch him leave the room to wander about the hallways, stopping by the door you had snuck through– and forgot to close. He squinted, looking at the mistake, and back at the living room. Your cheeks burned, adrenaline starting to pump in your veins as he took a few steps closer. 

“C’mon, you wanna have a movie marathon? It’s kinda late for that, but whatever. I have plenty of snacks left from the party, and a whole lot more puke!”

Stu turned away at the last second, choosing instead to sprint down into the bathroom. You could hear a muffled, “Gotcha… nope,” over rustling cloth as you crawled on your hands and knees into the kitchen. The freezing tile shocked any distraction from your system, and you stood up, settling into the darkest part of the kitchen. One of your hands held a dull knife, while the other held the little voice changer machine. However, your position left you without visuals on your victim. You were tempted to pull down your hood, but that would be too reckless, especially since he seemed to think you were his dearest friend. Oh, man, he didn’t know what was coming. 

“Y’know I love pranks, man, but time’s up,” He probed, leaning on the marbled island, just out of reach.

Stu visibly flinched as he turned around and found you staring at him, the mask’s empty eyes giving nothing away. It took him but a second to recover, yet, and a smile accompanied his wild eyes, “Billy!”

You tilted your head, slowly raising your left hand, “Incorrect.”

He didn’t have time to respond; you lunged. You gripped his collar in a fist and slammed him into the countertop– he winced. Stu tried pushing you back, but it was in vain, your knife already threatening to pierce his throat.

Your full weight was on the man, and he raised his hands in defeat. Stu’s chest rose and fell in hefty patterns; you snickered at his obedience. His head slumped back as you released his shirt, in favor of wrenching your mask off to face him.

“Surprise, Macher.”

Stu chuckled, chewing on his bottom lip, “Didn’t know you were in on it too.”

“In on what– aren’t you scared?” You growled, pressing the knife into the flesh of his neck, but not enough to draw blood.

“Dunno,” his back arched, causing a drop of blood to drip down his shirt, “I think you could’ve done better!”

You flipped him over, slicing a fringe off of your costume to tie his hands with. Your hips were in between his thighs, leaving him trapped, and the robe itself fell on the floor beside its mask. Stu giggled, hoisting up his torso with his elbows.

“It’s payback; you could use some.”

He winced as you pulled his hair, “Hngh, it was Billy’s idea.”

���Don’t act innocent.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it, tough guy?”

You rasped, moving to step back, “Nothing you don’t want; I think the prank’s done enough.”

Stu seemed to freeze, albeit briefly, but he wrapped his ankles around your hips– preventing you from running. Your hands brushed against them, tense, as his shoulders shook.

“I wanna.” A smile laced his tone.

“You sure?”

“I’m pose-itive,” he joked, “get it?”

You wrenched his mouth open, pressing down on his tongue with your thumb, “Shut it.”

He nodded, trying his best to close his lips around your finger. Your other hand trailed down his side, taking its sweet time, before landing on his waist. Saliva still connected your fingers to his mouth as you removed them, all in favor of lifting his hips. Underneath, you unzipped his jeans, taking extra care to avoid giving any friction. When you stepped back to slide them off of Stu, he whined, his hips still chasing your touch. His jeans were thrown aside, and you slid back in your place. You knew he could feel your breath on his neck.

Your crotch ground against his ass, a shiver spreading across his spine. Stu was audibly panting; his head was hanging low and he pushed his hips to meet your thrusts. You hummed, choosing to drag the knife in soft strokes down his back, the cool metal only just piercing his skin. Red oozed in thick droplets out of the wounds, some getting big enough to trickle down his back. The pain seemed to follow it down, as Stu made quite the pathetic noise. 

“We’ve barely even gotten started, Macher, and you’re this desperate already?” You teased.

“Mm, show me what ‘cha got!”

You chuckle and suck a bruise onto the back of his neck. From that position, you could hear a groan rumble in his throat, but it wasn’t strong enough to escape. Hm, you could change that. You sunk the edge of your teeth into a different spot, holding on for a second before soothing the bite with your tongue. If the bruise didn’t make what happened obvious, well, this would. Stu would just have to deal with it. Though, you doubt he’d mind.

The knife clattered onto the marble counter after you dropped it, Stu’s thighs twitching, “Where’s the lube?”

Stu didn’t answer, but only whined.

“Use your words, pretty boy.”

His voice shook, trying to form words past used lips, “Bathroom.”

“Louder, I didn’t hear you the first time.”

Stu wiggled against your weight, “C’mon, man– f-fuck, it’s in the bathroom, please!”

You tutted, a cruel grin on your face, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You didn’t need directions, and as soon as you were out of his view, you practically ran there. Hell, you weren’t gonna miss out on this chance, were you? Stu, the eccentric boy that played downright evil pranks on anybody that breathed around him, reduced to a perverted degenerate. Perhaps he was already like that, and you wouldn’t be surprised. 

The lube was in a small, portable bottle that was half empty when you found it. Back in the kitchen, you poured the majority of what was left in your palm and fingers. Using just two, for the moment, you spread it over his hole; a finger may have dipped in every once and a while, in the process. 

“I wanna, I wanna do it already,” Stu shuddered, his fidgeting acting up again.

A finger eased its way inside, a little too easily, much to your surprise, “Not yet.”

“I really wanna.” Another, just as simply.

“That’s too bad;” you mused, “have you been fingering yourself?”

He bit down on his bottom lip, the taste of iron filling his mouth, “Uhuh, uhuh.”

“To what?”

“Y-you, and me.” 

You spread the final bit over your dick, before pressing your hand into the sides of his neck, “You little pervert. Bet you loved getting a glimpse of me in the locker room, yeah?”

“Yeah, yes, yes– oh, shit.” Stu’s little tangent was interrupted by you slamming inside; the sting melted in with pleasure as you brushed his prostate.

Only for a moment did you stop to let him adjust, before pulling out and thrusting again. You found a rhythm, and the counter rubbed against his cock as you continued, smearing precum over the wood. His hands, still bound, scrabbled for anything to hold onto, but in vain. His nails just slid off of the smooth stone, his drool making it even slippier. Stu squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a knot grow in his gut. 

He clenched around you, causing you to grunt, “‘M gonna cum, please let me cum, please, please… ah!”

“We’re not done yet,” you hissed, firmly slapping his thigh.

“I can’t hold it, man, I really can’t,” he sobbed out, eyelashes wet from unreleased tears.

A sharp pain on his shoulder burned through any restraint the guy had, the knot unraveling as quickly as it had formed. Stu thrashed, the fringe snapping, and his vision whited out. His brain was all fuzzy; the only thing he could focus on was gripping the edge of the counter. Stu’s face was smushed against the counter, crimson mixing with the white surface. He shivered, eyes heavy, feeling a little floaty when a thick liquid dripped down his thighs. You pulled out of him, rubbing his waist as you did so.

“Good job, Macher. That was one hell of a show you put on, ” you sighed.

“Hhn.”

His body was limp as you turned him over, using the oven towel to start to clean him up, “How’re you feeling?”

Stu finally opened his eyes, using all of his strength to grin up at you, “Dude… that was like, awesome.”

“Pfft, you sound out of it.”

“Eh, what makes you say that? I want a big glass of water!”

You cackled, leaving his side to shuffle through a cabinet full of fancy cups, finally choosing a sturdy looking mug. He grabbed it as soon as it was in arms reach, taking huge gulps from it, like he had been starved. Or, more so dying of thirst. 

When he finished, you softly said, “Do you need help getting into bed?”

Stu shrugged, so you took that as a yes. You heaved him over your shoulder, supporting him up the stairs as he giggled the whole way. As you tucked him in, you swore you could hear something from down in the kitchen.

A phone’s ring.

-

Taglist: @jaspeywasy89 , @cannabrisano , @fandomz-brainrot

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[sunlightdances]

Stay (Dean Winchester x OFC)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Original Female Character Rating: PG-13 for swearing and mentions of sex. Summary: Dean and Avery have a two-night stand, and after that weekend, they go their separate ways. They never expected to see each other again, but the universe has other plans. A/N: Guys, where do I even begin? It’s been ages. I miss you. I see your messages, your likes, your reblogs. Thank you. Here’s this. I wrote a lot of it on my phone, so bear with me if there are typos.

It just goes like this, doesn't it?

One night where the both of them could let go of expectations, of being who the universe was making them be. One night.

But just like they knew they didn't have a choice but to be who the universe wanted them to be, they should have known the universe would pull the absolute worst April Fool's Day prank of all time.

They gape at each other, minds racing as images of tangled sheets, open mouths, and moonlit smiles come flooding back.

The task at hand doesn't let them linger too long.

She's firing with military precision, and he's right there with her, sweat dripping down his jaw as he reloads round after round, wondering if the universe put them both here to die together.

But then Sam shows up, like he always does. He saves them both, and the three of them save the day.

It takes longer for Dean to work up the courage to look her in her eyes. He feels-- he feels ashamed somehow, that he let her go that rainy Sunday morning.

There was never an argument or anything. They both just knew it was time. She had said she had to catch a flight and get back to work, and he lied and told her he had to do the same thing.

They had two nights of connection, of passion, but also of affection. He told her things he never told anyone. They spent a Saturday night fully clothed, eating take out straight from the containers in a hotel's king-sized bed. He felt comfortable with her like he hadn't felt with anyone in years.

And yeah, it sucked when she left. He sort of hoped there'd be a knock on the door saying she missed her flight, but he wasn't sad. They both knew what they were signing up for when they met at the bar that Friday night, eyes only for each other.

Still, he thinks he's remembered her kiss every day since.

He still thinks no one has ever touched him like she did.

So, yeah, he's a little angry and flustered when he sees her here, because she said she worked in marketing or some bullshit, and while he didn't expect her to be totally truthful with a stranger, this is a little too coincidental to be believed.

She bats his hands away when he offers to help her bandage a big scrape on her leg, and he tries not to make a face at the rejection. He's very aware of Sam watching him closely, but he has no idea what to say.

There's no point in lying about knowing her. He told Sam that he had spent a weekend with a woman the day he came home from his impromptu trip, but that it was nothing special, nothing but some no strings attached fun.

Turns out Dean might be the one who had a few strings.

.

Her face feels like it's on fire. Her game plan so far is just to refuse to speak to him, but that feels a bit stupid given the situation they just found themselves in.

Jesus Christ, but he couldn't have said he was Dean Winchester when they met? To be fair - she didn't give a lot of details about herself either. They didn't even really talk about work except when she said there was no way she could stretch her trip into one more day. She had to work.

(She lied about work just like he did, but that's neither here nor there)

She just never thought she'd still be thinking about him months later, much less seeing him in person. In the middle of a hunt.

She did have a real job. She wasn't lying about that. Her work for the FBI is very, very, VERY top secret. Fringe Division has been practically dead for years, but ever since the almost-apocalypse (she supposes she has Dean to thank for that, too), their work is more important than ever.

She was just supposed to be doing field work. Recon. She was never supposed to get involved, but here she is, trying to put a bandage on herself in the middle of the woods.

She can’t stop herself from watching his hands, remembering when they traced every inch of her skin and made her gasp and writhe and the way in the next breath they’d find a ticklish spot and make her laugh.

It’s just all so unbelievable.

Sam is the one to break the ice, which feels inevitable. “So. Anyone want to explain this?” He gestures between her and Dean.

Dean’s jaw clenches. For a moment she feels frustrated because why is he angry? They parted mutually. They both told lies and half truths and let themselves escape in high thread count sheets and each other.

She thrusts out her hand. The one not currently covered in blood. “Avery Harper.”

“Avery.” Sam repeats.

“Technically it’s Special Agent Avery Harper, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Dean chokes out a laugh, but it’s a little bitter. Avery’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I think we have a lot of catching up to do,” she suggests. “Food?”

She turns and heads toward her car before anyone says anything else. She hears a whispered argument, an exasperated sigh, and then finally the sound of footsteps on the crushed gravel. A hand grabs her elbow a moment later, then releases her like she’s on fire.

“We look like shit.” Dean’s voice is gruff. “Pizza at our place instead.”

The drive to their place is pleasant, at least. She struggles to keep up with Dean’s car, but she suspects he’s doing it on purpose so she lets him. He’s never truly out of her sight. She uses the time to try to work her way out of this, but decides there’s no point.

The only thing she needs to do is make them understand she’s not trying to take over their turf and that she has no interest in arresting them, and hope that they hear her out.

She follows along a long dirt driveway. The building looks rundown from the outside, but she trusts them. Trusts Dean.

Inside, she’s not ashamed of the way her mouth falls open as she takes in the gleaming tiles and smooth wood. The place is incredible.

“The inner sanctum?”

“Something like that.” Dean mutters, brushing past her. They both pause at the contact.

“I’m going to…. order pizza”. Sam says, quickly making himself scarce.

She and Dean stand there in the fading sunlight streaming in through a nearby window, and the light catches on his eyes. He’s hurt. She can see that, and she does feel guilty. Even though they were both doing the same thing, she’s realizing now that he probably would have loved to know he was completely understood.

That night, even though she didn’t know who he was, she felt a connection that was deeper than attraction. Now she knows why.

“I didn’t know who you were.” She says, hands tightening at her sides.

“How is that possible?”

“Not every agent is out to get you.”

He smirks. “Most of my interactions with the feds say the opposite.”

She exhales.

He rubs a hand over his face. The sound of his stubble scratching against weathered palms takes her back to a warm bed, a feeling of being so cocooned with someone else she couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

“Is Avery even your real name?” He asks, voice rough.

“Yes.”

A beat. “Marketing?”

She can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t know what to say!”

“You could have bragged about having a badass job.”

She’s surprised, but tries not to show it. “So could you.”

He shrugs. “Wanted to… shed it.”

“Me too.” She admits softly.

This time when he meets her eyes, his are vulnerable, a dark green that leaves goosebumps on her arms. “I—“ he stops himself. She wishes he wouldn’t. He changes tactics. “Let me take a look at that arm.”

“It’s alright-“

“Ave. Let me.”

A shortened version of her name hits her right in the gut. It’s familiar, intimate in a way she hadn’t been expecting. “Okay.” She relents.

.

He can’t take his eyes off her.

He was angry for a minute, he felt off guard, off kilter, but now that she’s in front of him he can’t bring himself to hold a grudge. He’s just happy to see her.

The FBI.

What a fucking day.

She doesn’t tell him much about why she was hunting, how she knew about the fight he and Sam were in on, how she showed up right when they did and where any of her intel came from.

They’ve always known that someone somewhere in the feds had an inside track, and it always bothered him. But because it’s her, he can’t find it in himself to be angry.

He thinks of the way she didn’t hesitate, just set up shoulder to shoulder with him and aimed her weapon like she’d be damned if anyone or anything tried to get close to the Winchesters.

He’s pretty amazed by her, he’s got to admit. She’s everything he’s ever wanted wrapped up in the most beautiful package, and that’s what makes him pause. Because he’s never allowed to have good things for long.

In his bathroom he inspects her wounds, uses the excuse to crowd her a little bit, inhales the familiar scent of citrus and vanilla that follows her like a cloud.

If she notices she doesn’t say anything and he’s grateful.

Her hand fits just so in his.

“Thank you.” She says eventually.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Dean—“

He looks up, sees her eyes uncertain, a little wild.

She kisses him before he can take his next breath. It sends heat sizzling up his spine, electricity crackling in the space between them.

It’s exactly how he remembers it, and somehow more. More because they’re truly themselves now, no secrets between them.

His hands are in her hair. Hers are tight on his hips, digging in, a desperation in her touch that he's relieved to feel, proof that he isn't the only one feeling this way.

When the need for air is too much, they wrench apart, gasping. Her mouth goes to his neck, and his lips find her forehead, and he can't do this again. He can't pretend.

"Wait. Avery, wait."

Her eyes are unfocused when she looks at him. "Sorry--"

He shakes his head. "Don't be. I-- god, I wanted that. I just... it's too much. I can't."

"I've thought about this for months." She admits, and his eyes slide shut.

"Don't tell me that."

"It's the truth." When he opens his eyes again, her smile is sad, but there's a bit of hope there too, and it makes his heart pick up speed. "I didn't want to go, that morning. I wanted to give you my number, I wanted to see you again."

"I did too. I wanted you to come back."

"It feels cursed, Dean." She says quietly. "This-- this is all too much of a coincidence."

He nods. "I know. But-- is that so bad?" He leans close, lips at her temple. Can't stop touching her. "Can't we just give ourselves something to be happy about?"

"We do have a lot to fill each other in about." She agrees, words sounding more like a moan in the quiet room.

"Stay." His voice is hoarse. "Stay with me. We'll figure it all out after."

He's tired of denying himself things he wants, things that make him happy. And if all the decisions he's made over the last few months, every thought and every choice have lead him right back here to her, then who is he to question it?

She stays.

[h4venpha]

isagi mutual pinning drabble/idea i cant get out of my head nor can i write it cause the words are quite literally NOT coming out rn :(

but athletic trainer!reader and isagi the last ones in the clinic and .. mutual pinning sillies... he's walking in like practically drenched in sweat from playing and his navy fringe is sticking to his forehead. he's got this massive smile on his face, because even after a long, hard game, seeing you gives him a new burst of energy.

“Hey…” His Adam's apple bobbing as he pushed down his nervousness seeing you lean against the counter. It wasn’t every day he got the chance to be alone with you. Usually the clinic was loud and filled with sweaty players. But here, just you and him in the quiet room, he suddenly felt very aware of himself. “...Am I the last one here?” Isagi asked as he sat up on one of the exam tables.

“Yeah, actually, I was just about to start cleaning up.” You said and motioned to the messiness around the clinic. The open cabinets and drawers, forgotten sweat towels, quickly melting ice packs, and a pool of some sort of sticky blue substance on the tiled ground.

His eyebrows furrowed lightly. “Oh, sorry then,” he quickly said, suddenly feeling like it was stupid for him to be nervous when clearly you wanted to clean and leave. I’ll be quick, it’s just my-”

“-Your shoulder, right?” You finished for him.

His navy eyes widened. “...Yeah? How did you know?” And suddenly he grabbed the front of his jersey and pulled it up and over his head. Your face quickly reddened and you had to remind yourself that you were an athletic trainer doing your job, and that this wasn’t some sort of cliche romcom. Isagi was just another player on the team and you had to tend to his injuries…  except with blood rushing to your face and an unstoppable fluttering feeling in your chest.

and youre prodding your fingers around his shoulder and there's so much heat coming off his body like hes a heating pad or something. and it doesnt help your already-red-hot face. meanwhile isagi is hoping the fact that he jus finished a game is enough of an excuse for his pink cheeks and his heart still beating out of his chest.

youre wrapping his shoulder gently with the athletic tape and wrap and it just feels so?? intimate. like suddenly now that everyone's gone and you two are alone it feels strangely intimate and not something normal between player and athletic trainer. both of your hearts beating and breath stopping short after you finish wrapping him up. (and ofc he doesnt put his jersey back on in hopes to maybe sorta try and impress his crush in any kind of way (its working btw))

and isagi helps you clean up the clinic: putting the extra rolls of athletic wrap back into the cabinets where they belong, and wiping off the exam tables and doing literally anything he can to stay another minute or two with you in the clinic.

when you finish, you and isagi are both standing at the door with your belongings in hand, just kind of.. looking at each other. like so many unspoken words but a mutual understanding of just one more minute. youre admiring his sparkling doe eyes and how he always seems to have a small, sweet smile on his face when hes with you. he's admiring your cheeks and how he so badly wants to pinch them in between his fingers and tell you about how pretty you were. he's clearing his throat and adverting his eyes with a deep blush high on his cheeks as he opens the door for you with a playful bow. before you both part ways with the constant thought of each other lingering in the back of your minds.

[eliteseven]

Every time I browse Tumblr and see an SH with black hair and a side fringe, my heart sinks, knowing she's taken DJ's path. Luckily, Jen from Consonance is the exception, hahaha. Have you considered that, at some point, Jen might dye her hair white for a promo of the album and love it so much that she keeps it?

(Tav dying a little inside each time she sees her, once again).

Yeah I was thinking more along the lines of Consonance (or Redemption AU). That’s just Jen, not DJ! Shads🥹💕

I think Jen’s black hair is pretty iconic, ngl. Very hot, really fits AP’s sound and style too. However, I think she might eventually go white/platinum and def would keep it for a while. Serena would miss it- but it’s Jen. She worships the ground Jen walks on. Ofc she’d love the lighter hair.

Serena would adore the surprise. Jen would be a little nervous to show her (residual trauma from Shar) but her heart bursts when she sees how Serena chokes on nothing in her attraction when she finally lays eyes on her. Jen feels a little foolish for ever having doubted that. Serena is truly just wildly in love with her- in any form.

Jen is happy, being able to make a change in her own life and feel good about it, without having to justify it or worry about Shar. It also doesn’t hurt that Serena is so smitten with the new look that she’s burned herself on hot items and walked into a few walls in her distraction/attraction 🤭

[kojoty]

It is funny that everyone can point to the aesthetification of punk or emo and read it as a hollow, capitalized, defanged version of a counter culture alternative grouping of communities that commodifies and takes the power from an actual threat to capital (and, in the truest forms of expression, anti colonial, anti racist, anti bigot etc)-- the commodification of a lifestyle is to inherently eat it and then present an Angler Fish predator of illusionary revolution that nonetheless reproduces the system with which it has been hive minded into-- and yet. And yet, except in very specifically fringe groupings of historians and other, well, hippies, I don't see the same awareness or cohesive 'oh duh' moment to the caricatureization of hippies and freaks.

Ofc, to give nuance, many of the true counter cultural folks just moved on with the times and ended up just in a less defined 'aesthetic' as is the grouping I usually just umbrella default to 'folk' (which yes, has been commodified, but not in the same sense that 'alternative' has been commodified).

But one of the greatest psy-ops of the 20th century Imo was the way in which 'hippies' (by which I really mean the Freaks, a term that was arguably used more but is less commercially friendly to be calling an entire movement when you caricature and debarb it) was so fully caricatured, and a movement was completely erased.

To give the obvious sidebar and second caveat-- yes, I'm aware of the 'problematic' and less than stellar political optics of the 'hippie' movement. But in the same vein that talking about Marxism on this site and rebutting with 'well what about tankies!' is just a praxied conversational stop gap of bad faith interpretations and willful nuance-killing ignorance, this post isn't about interrogating those that even at the time were hopping on the coattails of an incredibly powerful social movement for less political motivations.

And at some point, I would like to pour through soke of the literature I have on the topic and write a fully researched academic deconstruction of the movement, because I really do think the Freaks of the 60s mirror a lot of the political activism occurring now, and lest we learn from the past, I'm afraid of this, too, being caricatured and defanged before it has a chance to win.

('Win.' Also a complex term that would take a paper to define.)

But the salient thesis here being that, at its core, the Freaks and Hippies of the 60s were, by 1969, creating a multicultural, social, and political revolution that was cross-racial, cross-gendered, cross-cultured, cross-sexual etc, intent on tearing down the structures of power in place that operated on capital and subjugation to hold 'peace' as a contractual perk for maintaining injustice. And that, this intercrossing of revolutionary communities and countercultural groupings (much like the end of the 1860s and 1870s post war) was registering as a threat to the establishment, and thus needed to be divided. The Hippie movement didn't commit suicide and poisoned by it's own political messaging; it was, like the CIA and other government institutions have done before, methodically and rititualistically poisoned, and when it was murdered, the gun was planted on the corpse. The caricaturization of the Freaks is money in the pockets of those that killed peace.

[lvsifer]

i have found some amazing moots on twt but by god the takes on that site truly are RANCIT (except my based moots ofc). thankfully i am good at curating my tl so i only see it on the fringes sometimes or when i scroll thru tags/blogs. i mean i have also glimpsed “discourse” here at times but the absolute belligerent quote-retweets on twt are insane 😭 ppl just fightin left and right EVERYWHERE girl y are u engaging just block and ignore

[stonyponyofficial]

lol. is it adam

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SHUT UUUUOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay now that were here together in this beautiful Adam moment i have a few pieces of evidenec to show u.

exhibit 1 is that post.... god i wish i could remember the set up but the end was something like "and ull meet the most beautiful girl in the world and she looks like this" and its adam in his little nicky get up with the gay little emo fringe. u cant even deny that bc other people agreed okay shes BEAUTIFUL. not even the butch i was talking about if im being honest with u.

exhibit 2 the entire Butch cast of Airheads (1994). butch Adam ofc on the right, brendan fraser in the middle, and yes that is steve buscemi on the left. they can all hit bc theyre goofy in this one :3

ok exhibit 3.... Adam as Jill from Jack, And Also Jill (2011). really more futch in this one if im being honest but i love that for him. not much else to say about it except combines this post with this post in a mad science tube and makes something monstrous yet representative of my latent subconscious desires and the only way to defeat it is to learn to embrace them. gets on my knees and screams to the heavens I WANT DOUG WALKER AND ADAM SANDLER TO HAVE HORRIBLE CROSSDRESSING SEX AND TO ONLY EVER TALK TO EACH OTHER WITH THE IMPLICATION AND DESIRE IN THEIR VOICES THAT THEYRE GONNA FUCK AS JILL AND I THINK THAT ONE WTICH FROM HOCUS POCUS I HAVENT SEEN IT. AND I WANT THEM TO LET ME WATCH.

ohew :) it feels so good to finally get that off my chest!

anyway thats all the evidence, those are the only Very specific circumstances in which Adam Sandler... MAYBE..... could hit.

u may now all cast ur complimentary "first stone"

[onstoryladders]

i finished fringe yesterday. i have to say, the last season was quite underwhelming except for all the ways in which it connected to the others and a few key scenes (like the one with walter listening to music at the beginning of the season which is the best scene not only of this season but of the entire show). i guess because it was so different from what the show had been up until then and the invasion storyline was a little like it came out of nowhere

i don't understand why they did some things, like with september, what was the point? i mean i get what they were trying to do, they wanted to close the circle and since everything started with walter then everything had to end with him, but it felt really anticlimactic. also i love all that the white tulip represents and i loved that they chose such an impactful symbol to conclude the season, but the scene itself was not really emotional

september my beloved i didn't like how he reverted to be totally "human" in the end, like they couldve made him stay a but more observer-like in appearance or something. but whatev. he deserved better

anyway im gonna miss everyone :( such beautiful characters and relationships, their little found family 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 (broyles and nina included ofc)

charlie you will always be famous, fauxlivia and lincoln with a family of their own forever in my heart, etc etc

also the taxi driver from the other side: true hero of the show i hope he's well

EDIT i forgot gene I LOVE YOU GENE!!!!!!! 🐄

[askshivanulegacy]

SHIPPING MEME!! 2, 3, 4, 5 (>.>), 14, 15, 26!

THANK

2. Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life.

HMMMM. I'm going to include platonic ships in this, and they're all ships I've RP'd. Also, there are definitely more than 3 super important ships, so these are definitely NOT all of them.

(Platonic) Zack/Angeal/Genesis/Sephiroth from Final Fantasy 7. My first-ever set of online RPs. Really how I got into RP and art and writing! Still love them. I want to pick up the new games at some point, and I still have old fics on my to-do list.

Blakk and Saare-ha. An unplanned ship, but so good. the RP here is how I got into SWTOR. Still my canon storyline and I hope to finish some day!

Blakk and Ahuska. One of my current major ships and responsible for a few other most excellent ships, as well as some most excellent projects. >3

All of these ships and ones I haven't mentioned are of course responsible for hooking me up with my most bestest online friendships. What could be better than stories and fandoms and friends? ♥♥♥

3. What’s your current OTP?

I have several ships with Blakk that I love: Blakk/Ahuska, Blakk/Der, Blakk/Zim, Blakk/Zim/Der/Ahuska. Ofc, as my main OC, I love all my ships with him, even if they aren't listed. ♥

ALSO, I love Watcher Five/Cipher Thirteen/Crow aaaaand whoever else may or may not get wrapped up into that. 8) Cipher 13 is my newest trash child and he's amazing. >3

4. What’s your current NOTP?

Ahahahaha ... Shuri and Namor (Wakanda Forever). There's SO many things about this ship that I find extremely disagreeable.

Namor's entire arc starts with a gaslighting trip ("it's your fault I'm attacking you because you won't join me in worldwide genocide"), followed by the lovely murder of Shuri's mother. Despite his supposed agreement to stand down from his warmongering ways, he ends the movie with a renewed commitment to beat Wakanda the moment he can find a way to do it. Not once does he express remorse or any genuine desire to co-exist with Wakanda. As long as they refuse to be his tool to take over the world and/or commit mass genocide, they are his enemy. Shuri certainly (and rightfully) showed no interest in him in the whole movie. She's honestly got better things on her mind, not the least of which is her mother's murder. It's a sign of her own character growth that she even let him live after his murder spree. But at the end of the movie, Namor had no character growth: he's the same as he was at the beginning, except beaten.

I look at this ship and all I can ask is WHY. Maybe there's room in a future movie for him to develop as a character (after all, this was Shuri's story, and not his), but right now it's a ship I just can't stomach lol. It's such a weird ship. It doesn't recognize anything that happened in the movie. I appreciate a good bad guy ship, but there's nothing compelling in Namor even as a character to achieve that the way he was portrayed. And the funny thing is that it's not even presented as the random OOC ship it is, or even a solid hate-ship, it's presented like there's a basis for Shuri and Namor to actually have a loving relationship ... and there isn't. She's a child. He's a centuries-old child throwing a temper tantrum that nobody else in his entire underwater kingdom probably understands. He murdered her mother and said it was their own fault. Just nope.

People can ofc ship whoever they want, but this is the first ship I've seen that I've been so opposed to even seeing the art on my dash. These tender, loving glances between Shuri and Namor?? Wot??? Like, did we watch the same movie?? Doesn't seem like it, lol.

5. Do you have any poly ships?

I DO IN FACT. 8)

(SWTOR OCs) Watcher 5/Cipher 13/Crow +/- Ulfran is a CURRENT FAVE. Ahuska floats around on the fringes. 8)

Derrick/Blakk/Zim/Ahuska is another fun one, and I've had a couple others over the years. >3

14. How do you feel about will they/won’t they?

An excellent trope, especially in slow burn action. >3

15. Have you ever “shipped at first sight”?

Not that I recall, actually. The characters have to reveal themselves first, along with their motivations and how they tie into the story. I don't ship just anyone, and I don't do it just based on the appearance of characters. I'm also not a super frequent shipper either. I default to canon relationships all the time with zero desire to change it and zero desire to delve into fanfiction. I have to really connect to the characters and want to see more of them before I think about shipping.

26. Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic you’re more drawn to?

Now that I think about it I GUESS THERE IS.

I seem to lean strongly into angsty bad boy + heart of gold, or angsty bad boy + power figure. Honestly, as long as there's a stabby, desperate, angst bucket, my shipping radar boots up. XDD

[brainscrems]

I think this oversimplifies it, to an extent. I think there are a variety of issues, the leading one being that the republicans have become masters of propaganda and the democrats have proved unwilling or unable to counter at the same level. I think a large portion is that people vote on what they feel, rather than the policies they see. People consistently like democrat policies over republican ones in polling, but hate the democrats. The only explanation for this, to my mind, is the propaganda campaigns. These demographics are fed lies, day in, day out, about “the woke left” coming for their rights to freedom of speech and religion. Telling them there are all these things threatening their way of life. I cannot interpret this vote as anything but a rejection of the democrats and harris, instead of a vote for trump. And here’s where the, “being nicer” comes in. People like radfems and other assholes are frequently among the first voices an outsider to the left here’s coming from the left. Let’s say you’re 20-year old growing up in a place where your exposure to the outside world is mediated largely through fox news and people who like fox news. That’s the information you’re taught to believe. You get taught about the, “radical woke left” and shown cartoonish examples of what it is. And, well, there might not be anyone openly a part of the left, for their own safety, where u live and you may not have the means or desire to leave anytime soon. But. There’s the internet. You go on to talk to people on the left, see if they’re really what people say they are. You see some voices saying more reasonable things, but, ofc, this is the internet. The more extreme takes tend to be the ones publicized. So this young person starts trying to explore the left and runs into people like radfems and gets scared out of investigating further. I don’t think this is simply a matter of, “being nicer” to people. I think it’s a matter of countering the image problem that the left has among centrists and moderate republicans. That we are represented by our most extreme and outrageous voices. I think there are multiple components to this that should be done in tandem. The same way the right has all these podcasts and misinformational entertainment platforms, we need the same. Except ours need peddle truth instead of bullshit. Part of this campaign needs to be making leftist ideals represented by the people who make up the bulk of our numbers. Rational reasonable people fighting for a better world, not the smaller number that exist who fit the strawmen the right paint us as. Another part is creating space for those 20 year olds who have never really talked with a leftist before. We need people from those backgrounds doing the outreach to them. We need people to show them that we offer a community built off of working for a better world for everyone instead of the community build off of hate the right offers. It’s not about being nicer. It’s that often the first people these young impressionable people come in contact with are the most extreme voices of our movements, the ones who DO actually hate them for their identity and background. They then assume that they represent all of us. If instead we had strong outreach to those people, promising them community and direction and unity for the work to improve their working conditions, build unions, fight for higher pay, we could get them to start listening. Dems promise these policies but the media they encounter tells them that they’re just lying, lying, lying, or that they’re not proposing them at all. What we need is to show them that we are not something to fear, but a cause worth fighting for. I don’t think it’s “being nicer” that we need, I think it’s information campaigns to make us people to trust, to make our communities less scary to those who’ve never met us, and to make the most extreme of our voices seem as fringe as they actually are.

the thing I don’t get about both the Women need to be Less mean to Men and also Democrats Need to be Nicer to Republicans in the U.S. context is like…. Man if anything, what the 2024 election cycle showed me is that there are many people who don’t want their politicians to be even civil about them. The “let’s just have an all American shindig!!!” Song and dance?That was the democrats. Jd Vance wrote a whole book about how much the white working class from the area he came from were lazy criminal freeloaders he was somehow better than. he won in Appalachia. Trump has now had 8+ years of violent grab em by the pussy misogyny. The majority of white women voted for him. Trump has also had 8+ years of violent I Hate Latinos Bad Hombres messaging, including a graphic comedic description of their sexual habits at a rally right before the election. The majority of Latino men still voted for him. If there’s anything that seems to be suggested is that plenty of people respond well to people being mean to them and distrust civility. I don’t know what to think of it.

[xaallo]

2C but he straightens it--

[magpie-to-the-morning]

Insatiable -  Part Three

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales x OFC

Word count: 2k

Tags: Wolf shifter AU, Supernatural AU, Slow burn, Mating bond, Canon typical sex and violence, Attempted kidnapping, Blood, Injury, Hurt/comfort, Eventual smut

Summary: You’ve travelled the world looking for home, but what if it finds you?

Author’s Note: I hope people don’t mind the shorter chapters, but they’re helping me stay motivated! 

Missed Part One? You can read it here.

Moodboard by @acrossthesestars​

It takes 27 seconds to walk around the perimeter of the cramped living room in your rented apartment. You know this because over the last three days of your doctor-ordered rest, you’ve nearly worn a track into its scuffed wooden floor with your pacing. It kills you to know that there’s an entire city outside your door, one bursting with life and color and new experiences. You’re dying to roam the botanical gardens and visit the many crumbling ruins of centuries past, to visit the Basilica or hike in Parque Nacional Volcán Irazú or go white water rafting or-

But no. You’re stuck here, with nothing but a tantalizing glimpse of the world outside and your laptop for company. Sighing, you reach for said laptop. Its profusion of colorful stickers (mostly from coffee shops and bars) are more than merely decorative, hiding various dings and cracks from where it’s slipped onto gravel paths or been hastily shoved in a bag as you ran to catch one flight or another. Faithful as ever, it whirs to life when you power it on and you resist the urge to stroke it like a pet.

Maybe you have been cooped up for too long.

There’s not much to do online that you haven’t already taken care of. No new emails other than spam, nothing new to share on your blog or Instagram. You find yourself scrolling mindlessly through your newsfeed, nothing snagging your attention- until a headline jumps out at you.

Famed Cryptozoologist Found Murdered - Police Baffled By Bloody Crime Scene

Immediately hooked, you scan the article, gleaning bits and pieces as you go. The man in question, a professor at some obscure college and an author of several books about cryptids and other extreme possibilities, had been found in his home literally torn limb from limb. It’s a grisly story, one mercifully free of pictures- except one.

There is a single photograph taken at a dizzying angle, showing a bloodied carpet presumably at the fringe of the crime scene. Even through the chaotic smears of rusty blood, one detail is crystal clear- the paw print of a massive, clawed beast. 

Detectives have reached out to several prominent  biologists but as of yet, none of them have come to a consensus regarding the species that could have left this grim mark - especially as the killing took place not in the remote wilds of some distant forest, but in the heart of downtown Seattle. 

Some have raised the possibility of this being merely a sick joke on the part of a deranged killer. Others are claiming it as the work of one of the very creatures the professor spent his life in search of. 

“Holy shit.” Before you’d been bitten by the travel bug, these were the sorts of stories that captivated your imagination. True crime, sure, but more the hints of mystery lingering at the edges of mundane life. You’d spent an entire summer engrossed in the occult section of your library, devouring anything you could get your hands on about folklore, magic, and things that went bump in the night. To your young mind it made a certain kind of sense - of course there were secrets you simply weren’t allowed to know yet. If you could only find your way in, through a wardrobe or a fairy ring or the right hidden door, you’d be rewarded with all that forbidden knowledge and vast new worlds would open to you. 

Even now a part of you wishes you could still believe the rumors that whisper along the fringes of the Internet: Mysterious disappearances. Hauntings. Shady government agents waiting in the wings to erase the merest hint of anything strange or out of place. Mysterious beings with abilities beyond what even you could dream of.

If only. 

Even when you were escaping into books about mermaids and dragons and werewolves, part of you knew all too well that the only monsters that prowled the night were the human kind- like the man who’d tried to drag a terrified girl into his cab and left you with a gash over your eye that will almost certainly scar for having the temerity to tell him “no.” It’s a nasty reminder that nowhere on the planet is that much different than any other and that no matter where you go, the world is full of predators like him. 

Well, at least there are some good people out there, too. 

Time and again your mind drifts back to Frankie and Santi as you sift through the fractured memories of that night. They come back to you in dreams, tantalizing snatches of half-remembered conversations.

“ - take all these pictures yourself?”

“You really free climbed that mountain? Shit.”

“I’ll get you some more water.”

“Oh you haven’t lived until you’ve surfed Ponta Preta. One time Santi wiped out so hard he-“

“Just finished a job in-“

“Come on sweetheart, don’t fall asleep yet. Tell us some more about backpacking in Banff.”

“ - sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

“ - says she doesn’t have any painkillers.”

“You stay here, I’ll go.”

“Está bien, duerma un poco.”

“You’re looking at her like-“

“Dulces sueños. Cuídate.”

Echoes of conversations that may or may not have happened aren’t the only things crowding your sleeping mind. You’re consumed with the phantom feeling of Frankie’s careful hands on yours and the ghost of Santi’s hungry kiss heating your blood, the press of their bodies surrounding you, the comforting weight of them caging you in and freeing you all at once. You’ve woken up gasping more than one morning, sweat dripping down your spine and their moaned names on your lips. 

That night is a blur, and it’s nearly impossible to untangle truth from dreams. The only parts you know didn’t happen are the stolen kisses, the hot tangle of limbs and ragged panting you can almost feel against your ear just before you wake. Those are purely the work of your fevered imagination, your wish that you’d met them some other way than with you laying concussed on the sidewalk. But no, the one truth you know down to your bones is that they’d done nothing more than help you get home safe and leave before you could ask them why. 

The call from local authorities that you’d been half expecting and half dreading had never come and you’re left hoping that means everything is sorted, that there were enough other witnesses to tell them what happened without your fractured recollections. Then again, at least you would have been contributing something, rather than sitting on your ass. God, you can’t remember ever staying in one place for this long. You’d planned to be on your way to Ecuador or Peru by now, the restless urge to move on clawing at the back of your mind.

Impatience grows and snarls until you’re straining with it. If you don’t get out of here for a bit you may actually lose your mind. Slamming the laptop shut, you stalk towards the small bedroom and your luggage. You can take things slow. Stroll down to the nearest bar for a quiet drink. No more excitement, no adventures, just you and a glass of wine and your battered copy of your favorite book. Even making that decision raises your spirits and by the time you slip out the apartment door, carefully locking it behind you, you’re practically bouncing on the balls of your feet, eager to see where the night takes you. 

A gentle wind caresses your cheeks, warm and scented with night-blooming flowers, beckoning you into the heart of the city. You're heading for a bar you’d spotted when you’d first arrived in Cartago, one tucked away on a quiet side street, the perfect site for a low-key evening, but you’re in no rush to get there. You meander slowly, basking in the atmosphere. 

In the midst of idly window-shopping, the hairs on the back of your neck creep up. You whirl around, but there’s no one behind you aside from the usual bustle of people returning home from work or heading out for a night on the town. No one staring at you balefully or even feigning casual disinterest. Still, it’s hard to shake the sensation of being watched, and you hope the events of the last few days haven’t rattled you more than you’d realized. 

“Get it together,” you mutter, nails digging into your palms before you notice, exhaling slowly and forcing yourself to release the tension in your shoulders. “Don’t let him win.” The all-too familiar mantra helps to clear your mind and, with a shake of your head, you set out for the bar once more.

Turning the last corner, you come to a jerking halt when you see what’s waiting for you. You’ve locked eyes with a massive dog, one whose shaggy brown and cream coat looks far too thick for this climate. Your rigid limbs relax a bit when the creature, his golden eyes fixed on yours, wags his tail once, twice, before lying down with his head on his gigantic paws- the very picture of a well-mannered house pet, despite his size and wild appearance. The image is so bizarre that it startles a laugh from you. 

“Very convincing.”

His ears swivel to attention, alert and questioning.

“You almost don’t look like you’re about to ask me what I’ve got in my basket, or how far it is to my grandmother’s cottage in the woods.”

The tail swishes once again and he opens his mouth in a doggy grin- one that reveals a glimpse of fearsomely sharp teeth set in powerful jaws.

“Ok,” you chuckle, edging past and resisting the mad urge to try to stroke him. “I definitely needed the night out if I’m standing here having a conversation with you about fairy tales. Go find some water and air conditioning before you collapse- you can’t be comfortable under all that fur.”

As you’re moving past him, the dog huffs and you’d swear it almost sounds amused. 

You make it the rest of the way without incident, creepy or canine. The bar is just as you remembered it: a small patio slightly crowded with tables, chairs, and potted palm with strings of lights running between them and bathing everything in a golden glow. French doors stand open and inviting, showing you the way to a bar lined with stools and beyond that, several cozy booths. The night is still young but the place is already full and dozens of people are dancing to the lively beat pounding out of several large speakers. 

You slip into the throng with a sense of relief, glad to be out in the world again. A friendly server leads you to a tiny corner booth, returning in just a few minutes to hand you the drink you’d ordered. Just as you’re settling in with your book, movement near the entrance catches your attention. 

Two familiar figures have just entered the bar-  and they’re headed right for your table.

Part Four

[lascapigliata]

naming and shaming. the book is the sober truth by lance dodes md and zachary dodes. i am just over halfway through. it’s gonna be a monster review when i finish (unless it drastically improves ig), but here’s a disorganized unvarnished sneak peek

am not an addiction expert, wouldn’t classify myself as an addict. just someone with handwavy substance issues. but. fortunately for me, while lance seems to specialize in addiction treatment as a doctor i HIGHLY doubt he’s an addict either as this stuff doesn’t even ring true to me

he started losing credibility when he declared that everything major rehab centers were doing to differentiate themselves had “nothing to do with treatment.” i Agree that the balance of therapy to other stuff sounds insufficient and that much of the extra stuff is there to drive absurd prices even higher, and much of the other stuff he said. but i want to know what he considers Actual Treatment if meditation, for example, isn’t. should it be the focus of rehab? maybe not. should it be integrated? idk, every therapist i’ve spoken to about my nebulous substance use issues has also been in favor of some kind of mindfulness (even more than i have lol). when he FINALLY started talking about what IS Actual Treatment it mostly seemed to be individual therapy/psychiatry. so. a psych ward. i am more curious why he is sticking to institutionalization at all than whether or not equine therapy is “real treatment” tbh and that goes completely unexplored

he then goes on to talk about “true” addiction (psychological causes) vs what he calls physical addiction. firstly it’s annoying as hell he doesn’t just call it “dependence” bc it’s terrible writing and secondly he does this by claiming there are also two depressions. “true” depression can’t be treated by meds. 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 WHAT???? is this something psychiatrists actually believe ???? that would explain so much (about psychiatrists) tbh. you’re saying the minute medication works it’s not “true” [mental illness]? and this after making huge statements about how rehabs should be more like cancer treatment centers. sorry so when chemo works is it not “true” cancer??? how am i supposed to take you seriously?

he also talks about how patients receiving painkillers et al develop (temporary) dependency without becoming addicts. true! BUT NOT ALWAYS. not just fringe cases either - part of how tragic the opioid epidemic is is that many people became addicts by using meds how they were prescribed, not to cope with circumstance except pain, and even after careful monitoring to taper off MAT may be necessary for the rest of their lives. so i guess that’s just… permanent drug dependency and not “true” addiction? how are those different? there’s no “cure” for opioid use disorder afaik. except ofc that he completely ignores opioids (even tho this was written in 2019 ok apparently it was written in 2014 my bad, it was def not as widely discussed) except using vietnam vets’ heroin use as stand in for “all drugs” so he doesn’t have a chance/need to explain that.

anyway i had to pause to write this bc he’s talking about alcoholism/addiction as a compulsion akin to OCD (though of course he also says some compulsions have psychological causes needing therapy and others just need SSRIs. which again. UM. ykw i won’t get into it again) which i’m curious about but he’s leading in with lady macbeth’s Out Damned Spot. hello???? lady macbeth sublimating her guilt through hand washing is not the same as using drugs as a compulsive behavior lol

there had BETTER be a great fucking connection here otherwise i’m listening to the rest of this at 2x speed for real.

it’s so disappointing. there’s such a more important conversation to have here about treatment and addiction in america. it’s well established that it’s better to prioritize harm reduction, improving environments, etc over incarceration but the treatment options we have are so stupid. if abstinence-only doesn’t work in sex ed why would we expect that to be the gold standard in addiction either? famously, diets fail bc you can’t suppress cravings forever. and AA/12-step leaves A LOT to be desired. he offhand mentions once (1x) that success doesn’t have to mean constant sobriety but never brings it up again, and doesn’t seem interested in exploring alternate solutions or even interrogating conventional wisdom further around “success” or improvement. i got half a book to go, maybe it’ll come up, but. not the best look so far

aren’t you excited for the barely edited version of this when i’m done

book i’m reading about AA and recovery started so strong and now for the last two chapters i’ve been pulling my hair out. i wanted this to be good!!! what i most wanted was to explore IF abstinence is the best form of recovery anyway (i don’t think so) but even failing that and sticking with the sobriety model this is frustrating AS HELL !!

[runawayballista]

fe13 wawa au keeps sprawling and most of it is in scattered twitter threads or just floating around my brain. time 2 put it all in one place before i start forgetting the good stuff. i love to hyperfixate

this started out as a morgan-centric AU for the purpose of cute & funny morgain/owain (and eventually also cynigowaingan) and then ofc i got WAY invested in the backstory of robin & morgan being escapees from a modern-day wellness spirituality cult who only recently lost their memories. when i tried to figure out what all the adults were doing tama suggested "chrom is robins work buddy from the 7/11" and then i decided Everyone Works At Wawa. thank you tama for that big-brained seed of an idea it is growing into a beautiful and unwieldy tree

*just to be clear this is called "wawa AU" but they work at a super wawa. ok. thanks

MORGAN & ROBIN are escapees from the modern day cult of grima, which is a fringe religious cult wrapped in a vaguely synanon-esque wellness cult wrapped in an herbal supplement MLM a la herbalife and YES it is called grimalife. the deeper you go, the weirder and more controlling and isolating it gets. it started out as a weird religious cult in the southwest US, but fueled by the sheer power of "well, no one's stopped me so far", validar starts grooming his only child into a protege he can eventually manipulate to gain further influence beyond the cult. folks, that's programming

the grima family's surname is grimason. rhymes with "freemason"

robin has her major "ah fuck, i really was raised in a cult" breakthrough and escapes with morgan when he's around 9, and with the help of some old friends, flees to the other side of the country and starts a new life for them under new identities as robin and morgan jones. they're able to live their lives in relative peace, uninterrupted by validar or anyone from the cult. it seems like they've actually escaped for good. fast forward several years when they are in a car accident and wind up with identical presentations of near-total amnesia: they can't remember anything about their lives except each other. they're only able to learn so much about themselves from the available information and can't explain why they don't have any photos from before when morgan is 9. robin finds out she's a faculty member of a local university of moderate prestige (field: game theory) where she started working around the time they apparently moved here, but when she tries to research how she got the job she winds up with mostly dead ends. the university is like hey… you should take a sabbatical… take some time off to be with your family and recover. also, you can’t remember your own syllabus so how are you going to teach right now anyway

as far as they can tell robin’s been homeschooling morgan his entire life, and he’s 16 now, so robin’s like hmmmm. i think maybe you should start going to a regular school this fall. it’s important that you get a good education and i’m not sure an amnesiac academic should be responsible for your curriculum and you should probably uh. be around kids your age? morgan is fine with this! the idea of going to school is actually really exciting. ALL of this is so exciting. in fact he really wants to try going to the summer camp they found a brochure for in the kitchen! robin is so immensely relieved to have a kid with this outlook because she is Struggling with the existential implications of not remembering anything from before you were 40.

unfortunately you can't just tell people like robin and morgan to "take it easy and relax", and eventually robin gets so bored and stir crazy that the third saturday in a row morgan emerges from his room to find that his mother has turned the den into an escape room he's like "mom this is so cool but i think you really need to get a job" so. while morgan is off at summer camp, robin gets a job at the super wawa

(ROLL CREDIT TITLES)

uhhh fuck i have no idea how to organize the rest of my thoughts on this. morgan goes to summer camp with owain where they become insta buddies, they spend a lot of time larping in the woods and then on the last day of camp they kiss in a tree, and owain falls out of the tree and breaks his arm. Classic camp experience. when he gets home from camp he will NOT shut up about the new friend he made, who inigo is convinced doesn't actually exist. what, you mean like your girlfriend in canada

smash cut to the first day of school and guess who is in their home room class!! haha it's wild owain and morgan spent so much time coordinating playing an online game together that neither of them thought to ask where the other one lived

i have not figured out everyone's Deals yet but most of the shepherds work at the wawa. chrom is like, technically the general manager here but let's be real, frederick is the one running the show. sully & sumia work the food and drink bar, sumia makes your milkshakes with a smile and sully glares at you when you ask if shes SURE theyre out of bacon (theyre married). cordelia also works there bc despite getting her masters degree she follows chrom to every customer service job he works. lissa also works there but her wife maribelle is currently working on her law degree. maribelle has never worked at the wawa and she never will. her wife has nothing but respect for her for dealing with the unwashed masses all day and still coming home with a smile, but there simply is not enough money in the world to convince maribelle to put on a mass-produced polo and visor

cordelia is married to gaius, who is constantly getting people caught up in little scams, just for fun, but also, there isn't enough good dental insurance in the world. he has been up in MULTIPLE MLM schemes because he knows how to work them and get out. he absolutely sells some GrimaLife brain pills for a while and even gets hooked on the kids gummy supplements until he realizes how many of these contain lead. severa learned to shoplift from watching you, dad

virion does NOT work at the wawa. he is inigo's dad and some kind of rich dude, its not important what kind, its only important that that cherche is the head of his legal counsel department and she represented olivia in the divorce :)

THE REGNA FEROX CIRCLE K is simply my new favorite combination of words to say. the shepherds are the wawa, and regna ferox is the lone, weirdly displaced circle K in the murky PA/NJ realm this takes place in. olivia has worked for basilio & flavia since she was a teenager after they were kind enough to give her a hand when she really needed it!! she quit when she married virion. she was rehired immediately after the divorce

lon'qu also works at the regna ferox circle K, similarly got a job there as a Troubled Youth and basilio kind of took him in, although for a while he wandered off on his own to go somewhere no one knew him. that's where he met robin! they're married! were married? he's morgan's dad but hasn't seen his wife OR kid in over 10 years. i think that may be a separate post because this is getting so long. lon'qu's only hobbies are working out & woodworking

[partyinthemysterymachine]

as a classic cats fan what did you think of the 2019 movie?

FOREWARD: i have full respect to those who enjoyed CATS 2019 and show their support and engage in that part of the fandom. rock on. very truly, honestly, sincerely, i hope you have a blast and create and share and have the best of times. welcome to the fandom, it’s great to have you here; thank you for joining us and i really, really do mean that from the bottom of my heart and soul. it really makes me happy that CATS has become something good for you like it is, and has been, for so many of us. i’m ecstatic to see the fandom expanding and i’m so very serious about that.

unfortunately this is the time to jump ship if you don’t want to hear any more complaints about it. thank you and ilu all and once again, welcome to the fold, i love that you’re joining us and y’all being here honey butters my toast xoxo

there was a 2019 movie?

runs hands down face

from the very first sneeze of an idea of doing a CATS movie went around being speculated in what.. 2012?? i have been against it because i knew it wouldn’t be done right. what i really wanted, really hoped for, what the fandom very honestly deserves and STILL does to this day and beyond is another honest, no dances cut, full on professionally shot video of the stage production again.

i’m still putting my hand to the cold glass and pulling my thin shawl around my shoulders as i gaze past the rain blurring the dreary world outside and sighing a tremendous, weary sigh because Hamilton is getting a full professionally-shot stage movie...... and CATS likely won’t ever.. and how cruel that is.

(not hatin on Hamilton, btw; im just old and bitter LOL i have zero hard feelings towards Hamilton and honestly good for them for getting that done, they deserve it)

so...... listen. i appreciate the thought and commitment to making a CATS movie. i think the biggest thing that busted my balls about it was the use and execution of the CGI cat people. ofc this is a big thing in a lot of opinions. but i’ve always been sitting here like....... 

there are... decades of fanart. decades of productions and photos and costume design. but the fan. art. did anyone go in and look at it? artists have been drawing these characters a wide variety of ways, but when it boils down to the anthropomorphic take on it, i thought it was pretty damn clear how good it could look. i feel like they should have been diggin in the CATS art trenches all this time, all these years, and really taken all these artistic interpretations very seriously to heart. 

it felt like a slap in the face when they overhauled nearly everyone’s design/look to the point where i don’t even know who i’m looking at. and listen, i’m here for redesigns, don’t get me wrong. i dug Jason Derulo’s Tugger design. i dug Idris Elba’s Macavity base idea because he was made a shorthair and clearly all source material says otherwise? and where’s the ginger, mate?? 

(NOTE: in the b’way revival the new Macavity costume is easily 99% black in contrast to the original design in which the costume was 95% red and orange. stark difference. “Macavity’s a ginger cat” contradicts the revival costume a bit since, again, it’s largely black. so in its defense, the costume’s red/orange accents are well placed and the black pays more tribute to the “very tall and thin” aspect he’s supposed to have. (the old costume was wild and hairy, it kinda puffed him out a bit, esp with the much fuller and taller wig.) the revival wig is more on par with main wigs, and it has that coppery color, the makeup is simplistic (as it needs to be added on to Plato) and the color use FOR base Plato brings out the red and etc etc etc. i like the revival costume; it didn’t go overboard on the reds and oranges, it was sleek and powerful, and oh my god you’ve got fingergless gloves with fucking fringe there is a MANE wiht FRINGE who designed that bc i gotta kiss em and offer a piece of my heart and soul)

everything felt muddled, disorganized, foreign, and god why did we do Jennyanydots that why please why are the cockroaches people please are you all ok in production? blink twice if you need help

oh yeah and the fat jokes. i think we were supposed to be getting over that but ok

very interesting thing with Macavity kidnapping the potentials. kinda dug that. fuck it up, Skimbleshanks

and speaking of fuckin Skimbleshanks you have no idea how much of my shit i lost when he started the tap number. i was over the MOON. GOOD shit, FUCK yeah, GO OFF and it was brilliant, absolutely beautiful

ALSO when i heard Judi Dench was gonna be in it i was really hopeful she’d finally play Grizabella. what a fucking treat that would’ve been. she was set to debut the role in the West End, then she tore her Achilles, so Elaine Page replaced her and the rest was history. i’ve really wanted to hear/see her Grizabella. :(

(and briefly on the topic of Grizabella i’m kinda not here for the trend of younger actresses in the role just hhhhhhhh kinda takes away and misplaces her whole vibe and story imo)

i just.. i didn’t understand some of the plot changes like how Macavity was up in everyone’s bs tryna force himself up to the Heavyside Layer, it was silly, and yeah i shouldn’t take CATS so seriously even with the longtime fan background but 

gestures helplessly

y’all fr?? 

there were a lot of super questionable decisions across the board and all that has already been gone over by so many people a dozen billion times. on one hand, i’m glad CATS got some exposure. on the other, :( not like this

however, on a very good note (other than skimbleshanks bless him): let me tell you how EXCITED i was that they used the original Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer arrangement. what a fucking pleasant surprise. HELL yeah. i LOVE that arrangement and i’m tickled to pieces that it was chosen.  good shit. good shit.

tbh as Serious and Bruh Calm Down this might all sound, it’s honestly no skin off my teeth. it’s a frustration, sure. i’m so very tired.  i’m disappointed. i didn’t have any specific expectations about it, just a lot of hopes. maybe too many hopes.

being a longtime CATS fan i know as well or even better than other people what a fucking dumpster fire the show is LMAO it’s wild and it’s ridiculous and god it doesn’t make any sense, it has a plot and it has no plot and everything about it is so horny and it’s the greatest fucking thing to ever happen to me

i obviously have a lot of feelings and history with CATS, and 2019 did not “ruin” anything for me, it didn’t “taint” anything about it, despite everything i’ve complained about i don’t consider myself a purist. (ok. except about the revival choreography. some things are more sacred than the vatican.)

i don’t dig 2019 as a whole. i don’t want to completely disregard it. there are bits and pieces i did like and that i can appreciate. i wish it wasn’t done that way. i just wish we had gotten a true blue professionally shot, no dances cut, honest portrayal of the stage production. 

but hey it is what it is. at the bottom of it all i’m just glad there are new people coming in and taking a look around. it’s nice to see a resurgence of the fandom. it feels really good to see more people here and loving it. i missed CATS and the CATS community. it feels so good to be home.