#how is it people once said it... ''THE RITUALS ARE INTRICATE''

[inspiteofganon]

I think ganondorf would be so confused by homophobia. like yeah obviously hes attracted to men. he took a course on wooing them. obviously hes attracted to women, why wouldnt he be women are great

The gerudo would not give less of a fuck about sexuality i think. i think the majority of them would be married to women and only seek out men to have children with

Oh yeah such a thing would definitely be nonsense to him, I think. Petty garbage for spoiled weaklings to fuss over. "Who cares if someone's attracted to the same sex? Every day my people struggle in the desert etc. etc. Hand Over The Triforce." sentiments.

Most of my headcanons about Gdorf and the gerudo only selectively factor in BotW/TotK-timeline things such as the dating classes, in preference for OoT-and-its divergents-inspired stuff and also "things my roommate says". I must confess I prefer them a bit more on the chauvinistic side... consistent, feisty, and proud... i.e. "everybody keep out" > "men keep out, women/agenders are fine". Why make exceptions for some hylians but not others?? Girl, the imperialists...!

I definitely agree they don't really "give a fuck" about sexuality. Maybe only a sliver depending on context. It's not really relevant to most of them unless they wanna start a family or fall in love. Being a 100% straight gerudo must kinda suck though since your only options are either hitting up Ganondorf (if there's even a gerudo king at home at the moment) or learning how to woo some outsider voe... or transmasc gerudo, if you think they'd have enough of those in the open. I like the idea of there being a lot of lesbian and bi gerudo... I want to see a gay gerudo wedding... they're socially monogender except for the times they have a king, so social sexuality really isn't something I think they'd really think seriously about except for the aforementioned reasons. Just more garbage that the peoples they steal from waste time on! Lame. Even the "vai" others have are so socially different despite physical similarities that they just don't vibe the same as other gerudo.

As for Ganondorf and his own Gay Thoughts... man, where to even start with what I have in mind for that guy. Besides the fact that he can't be normal about anything ever.

If vai take lessons on how to romance and woo voe, Ganondorf I think would at least know how that works. He has to know how the things his subjects consider important work-- how else are they going to respect him?! To hylians, I think, getting to know him long enough he'd start to come off as a guy with an unusually deep knowledge of what most might call "women's business". Up to and including him knowing how to go about getting a boyfriend if he really wanted to. But back to GAYNESS... I think it'd be complicated for him. Because Ganondorf is a very superior man who thinks little of everyone else, especially if they're not gerudo. So if one approached the topic of his orientation-- assuming his response wasn't just "who cares? not me"-- he might not be able to give you a straight (lol) answer on the sole basis that there aren't any other males of his own kind to measure his reactions with, and that he looks down too much on other peoples for him to think they truly count.

But on the FLIP side of that!! Other men could be, for lack of a better word, a "safe space" to play with his own sexuality, since them being of so little matter makes them more approachable in that sense. Goodness knows he's up to his eyeballs in women at home, but men? They're novel, they're disgusting but mandatory to his people (though they insist he's the one good one! they swear!!), and like it or not, the common voe outside Gerudo Valley are lumped into the same category that he is by most. They're so like him, but so not. They don't have the same expectations he has on his shoulders. Perhaps a part of him might envy their freedom and camaraderie... and enjoy intimidating them as a result, and thinking something like "Wow, you're nearly the kind of gender I am... heheh..." while watching them squirm in his presence. What passes for a man in Hyrule is different from what he's been raised to be...

So yeah in my opinion he's DEFINITELY got some gay potential boiling under the lid. He's not gonna think about it or act on it in a sane or healthy way though.

[ayyponine]

Same venue. Same-ish crowd. Opposing seasons. Contrasting vibes.

[corruptedcaps]

Jane’s Ascension

Special thanks to @lsat (discord: thedivergence, Twitter: LSAT1886) for generating the images used here that allowed a long time idea of mine to come to life.

It had nearly been a year since Tarzan and Jane had defeated their nemesis, the cruel and power-hungry Queen La. She was a formidable adversary, known for her dark magic and ruthless ambition. Queen La had ruled over a faction of jungle-dwelling followers, seeking dominion over all living creatures. However, her reign of terror had come to an end when Tarzan, Jane and their friends thwarted her wicked plans, banishing her from their realm.

It was only now that they had decided to explore the ruins of La’s once thriving city of Opar. Jane had always been enamored by the mysteries of the jungle. Her days alongside Tarzan, swinging through the treetops and learning the ways of the wild, had filled her heart with love for both the man she adored and the lush, untamed world around her. She begged Tarzan to bring her back to Opar, to explore its secrets now that the once threat was long gone. Tarzan had been hesitant but he couldn’t say no to his love.

“Tarzan this place is amazing isn’t it? Just think of how bustling and vibrant this place once was. It makes me sad that it all ended when La was defeated.” Jane said with a hint of melancholy. Tarzan did not understand her fascination with a place he could sense held great darkness but looking at her he knew that he would do anything for her.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Jane’s words travelled on the air around the ruined city causing the stone walls to creak and the wind to howl. It was as if her words breathed life into the city and it responded by opening a hidden door to a chamber below. Jane and Tarzan looked at each other confused. Tarzan knew Jane would want to investigate but he felt uneasy. Before he could voice his concerns she was already descending into the hidden chamber.

As they descended they saw in awe the full scoot of the chamber. It aas steeped in a chilling aura of both grandeur and malevolence. The walls were adorned with faded murals that depicted the cruel reign of Queen La, showcasing scenes of conquest, subjugation, and dark rituals.

The chamber's ceiling, supported by ornate stone pillars, bore intricate carvings of jungle creatures and twisted vines, as if nature itself had been subjugated by a twisted will. Shafts of eerie, filtered light penetrated the chamber through narrow cracks, casting eerie shadows upon the cold stone floor.

At the center of the chamber, on an obsidian pedestal, rested a necklace. It glimmered with an unholy radiance, its central red gem catching the scarce light and reflecting it in unsettling patterns. Its beauty was mesmerizing. So much so that Jane, who didn’t want for anything in the world, felt immediately compelled to reach out and touch it.

As her fingers barely brushed against the surface of the gem, an otherworldly sensation coursed through her veins. Her eyes widened in surprise and then immediately vacant. She stood like a statue with her index finger barely touching the necklace the entire time.

However Tarzan was quick to notice his paramour was eerily silent and when he saw her transfixed state he jumped into action pulling her away from the necklace. Jane crumbled in his arms unresponsive, seemingly comatose.

“Jane! Jane! Wake up Jane!,” he said urgently. “Hold on, Jane. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Desperation etched his face as he made a painful decision to leave Jane. He knew there were wise shamans living on the far side of the jungle, keepers of ancient knowledge and medicines that might hold the cure for Jane's mysterious ailment. Without delay, he set out on his perilous journey through the dense, untamed wilderness.

Meanwhile, in the solitude of the chamber, in the depths of her coma, Jane found herself walking amongst the buildings and the people of Opar. However this wasn’t the Opar she knew, all empty and ruined. This was a vibrant, alive grand empire. She followed the flow of people to the central hub, the palace. At the center of this opulent building, was a lone woman, beautiful, powerful, strong. It was Queen La like Jane had never seen her. Jane’s hate for all the valuess that La held faded away as she gazed in awe at the magnificent queen astride her throne.

Up until now no one paid Jane any attention, it was if she were a spectre, floating around unseen but one person now saw her. With a smirk and a gesture to come closer, Jane found herself gravitating towards La. Only once she got closer did she notice that the cocoa skinned Queen was positioned in such a way to show off her glistening bare pussy. The sight stopped Jane in her tracks.

“Come closer Jane, pay tribute to your Queen. Taste royalty so you too may ascend.” La said in a purr. Jane was transfixed, almost hypnotized by La’s words as she knelt in front of La and leaned into the monarch’s most prominent care of regions.

Jane’s tongue gingerly touched the top of La’s clit. As soon as it did it was a revelation for the reserved English scholar. The taste was unlike anything she had known before. It was pleasure personified and Jane wanted more.

Placing her hands on La’s smooth thighs, Jane pulled the Queen closer to her face so she could exploring her depths deeper. La let out a soft moan that Jane took to mean she was equally enjoying the experience.

However as both Jane and La were experiencing pleasure like no other, a voice was breaking through to her. It was Tarzan’s. His voice was acting as her conscious, compelling her to wake up, to reject La’s empty promises. His voice sliced through the trance she was experiencing and she pulled herself away from La.

“Wait this isn’t right, this isn’t who I am.” Jane said unsteadily getting to her feet and wiping away the juices from her lips. However with lightning speed La rose and stood behind her, whispering in her ear.

“And who are you exactly Jane? A sidekick to that muscle bound moron? A damsel in distress always waiting on your prince to save you? Aren’t you tired of that?” La purred in her ear as she place her hands on Jane’s hips.

“Wouldn’t you rather be something more capable? More powerful? More feared? Wouldn’t you like that?” La said as she pulled Jane closer to her, their bodies touching from neck to thigh.

Maybe it was fear that kept Jane from moving but maybe it was La’s tempting words that kept her there. Maybe it was La’s soft breath on her nape that caused Jane to forget about Tarzan in that moment. Maybe it was the promise of beauty and power that made Jane whisper, “More than anything!”

Jane closed her eyes as she felt La’s warm embrace around her sink into her skin. She felt La’s very essence be absorbed into her body in a pleasurable slurping sound. She felt her drab and simple clothing become La’s gloriously revealing regal attire. Gold hooped earrings drip from her ears pairing well with think gold bracelets adorning her arms.

Her skin gradually taking on a deeper, exotic tan, reminiscent of the sun-kissed hues of the jungle. But the changes were far more profound than a mere alteration in complexion and clothing. Her body seemed to ripple with newfound vitality, her curves becoming voluptuous and alluring. Her nails grew long and sharp, like obsidian talons, ready to strike.

Jane's once-ordinary hair thickened and lengthened, cascading down her back in a torrent of glossy, ebony waves. Her breasts swelled with a newfound plumpness, going from a meagre B cup to a commanding double D. Her figure transformed into an embodiment of seduction and power.

Muscles that had once been delicate and feminine now hardened, sculpting her into an athletic and toned form, blending grace and strength in a way that was both sexy and fearsome.

Carnal images and sensations filled her mind, like a vast library of pleasures were getting downloading into her brain. Knowledge of magic spells, hexes and curses invaded her brain and gave her intimate expertise as if she had been a student of the dark arts for decades. It was intoxicating.

Opening her eyes she found herself now awake from her coma, standing back in the chamber alone. The necklace that had started all of this was clung tight to her chest. Her eyes, now shimmering with a malevolent light, reflected the eerie radiance of the cursed gem. In that moment, her transformation was complete, and a dark presence had taken root within her.

She gazed at her reflection in an ancient, cracked mirror within the chamber, and her voice, now dripping with seductive cruelty, echoed in the silence. "Ah, much better," she purred, her own voice sounding both familiar and yet profoundly altered, "I was once so naïve, so kind-hearted. But look at me now."

With a haughty laugh, she envisioned herself ruling over Opar, Queen La's dark legacy reborn in her. "I shall be the new queen of this empire, and the jungle will tremble at the mention of my name. No one can resist the allure of power, especially when it's draped in such beauty."

Her fingers, adorned with long, razor-sharp nails, traced the contours of her transformed body, admiring her newfound allure and power. "The jungle will bow before me," she continued, her voice filled with icy determination. "And Tarzan... oh, Tarzan, he will come to realize the joy of serving me."

Almost as if he had been summoned, Tarzan appeared at the foot of the chamber having descended with a shaman mixture that he believed would reawaken Jane but found it suddenly unneeded.

There, before him, stood Jane, but she was unrecognizable. Her once-kind eyes now glinted with a sinister light, and her body had transformed into a vision of seductive power. She wore the cursed necklace with an air of cruel confidence.

"Jane?" Tarzan's voice quivered with disbelief and desperation as he stepped closer.

She turned to face him, and a wicked smile danced upon her lips. "Oh, Tarzan," she purred, her voice dripping with both familiarity and malevolence, "you've returned."

In that moment, Tarzan realized the depth of the darkness that had taken hold of his beloved Jane. "What has happened to you?" he pleaded, his heart heavy with sorrow.

Her laughter was chilling, a stark contrast to the laughter he once knew. "I've embraced the power that this necklace has given me, Tarzan," she declared. "I am the new queen of Opar, doesn’t royalty suit me perfectly?"

Tarzan's eyes pleaded with Jane, desperate to reach the woman he loved, hidden beneath the darkness that had consumed her. "Jane, please," he implored, his voice filled with anguish, "you must destroy that necklace. It's corrupting you."

But Jane merely chuckled, the sound cold and heartless. "Tarzan, you underestimate me," she said, her voice dripping with scorn. With a swift, mocking gesture, she tore the cursed necklace from her neck.

Tarzan's heart leaped with hope, but it was short-lived. In the palm of her hand, she squeezed the necklace causing it to crumbled to dust, as if it had never existed. Jane's eyes blazed with a newfound malevolence.

"I don't need the necklace to be queen, you fool," she sneered, her gaze locked on Tarzan. "The power is within me now. I am the queen of Opar, and no one can challenge my reign."

A sense of dread washed over Tarzan as he realized the extent of the transformation that had taken place. Jane had become a force of darkness, and there seemed to be no way to reach the woman he had once known.

"In fact, as a show of my power," Jane hissed, her voice filled with a chilling determination. With a casual flick of her wrist, the very vines that had once been their allies came alive. They slithered and twisted through the air, responding to her dark command.

Tarzan's eyes widened with alarm as the sinewy vines snaked around him, their grip growing tighter with each passing moment. His powerful struggles were rendered futile as they constricted, holding him immobile, like a helpless prey ensnared in the jungle's unforgiving embrace.

Jane's eyes bore into his, devoid of the warmth and love he had once known. Instead, they gleamed with an eerie satisfaction, reveling in her newfound dominance.

"Tarzan," she taunted, her voice dripping with cruel delight, "you see, there is no escaping my rule. The jungle is mine to command now, and you are but a mere obstacle."

"But you may be useful to me yet," Jane mused with a sinister smile, her lips curving in a mocking grin. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to Tarzan's with a chilling, calculated tenderness.

As their lips met, a malevolent energy surged from Jane's mouth into Tarzan's, and a darkness seemed to creep through his veins. Agonizing pain wracked his body, and he convulsed as a profound transformation began.

Tarzan's muscles bulged and expanded, his body becoming more impenetrable, like the very stones of the jungle. His once-tanned skin turned an eerie shade of gray, and his eyes, once filled with warmth and life, darkened into abyssal pools of black.

Through the torment, Tarzan's voice turned cold with an eerie subservience as he asked, "What is your bidding, my Queen?"

Jane's malevolent laughter echoed through the chamber as she gazed upon the creature that Tarzan had become, a loyal servant of her dark reign. The jungle had truly fallen under her dominion, and she held the once-mighty Tarzan in her thrall, a grim testament to the extent of her power.

“Come my pet, there is much to do.” She said with a knowing smirk as she released Tarzan from his binds and he followed her obediently.

For another tale of Jane’s corruption check out this fantastic story here by @misseviehyde

[bridgyrose]

“I thought you were going home for the break.” 

Blake looked up from her book to see Ruby standing over her. “I… decided to stay here for winter break. I’m still a bit nervous about trying to go see them.” 

Ruby sat down with her. “Yeah, but, dont you think you’ll have to talk to them at some point?” 

“I do but… only once I’m ready.” Blake closed her book and sighed. “And right now, I'm not ready.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” 

Blake shook her head and got up, stashing her book back into her bag. “I’ll figure it out on my own. Though I thought you’d be with Yang and your dad.” 

“Dad and I arent exactly in… talking terms right now,” Ruby said a bit nervously. “He’s still not exactly thrilled about me being at Beacon, especially with what we did at the docks.” 

“I figured he’d be proud of you guys.” 

“He was, but, well, you know how parents are, right?” 

Blake sighed and looked away for a moment as she thought about it. “I… I should get back to the dorm.” 

“I’ll come with-” 

“I want to be alone.” 

“But you’re my teammate, I shouldnt leave you alone.” 

Blake paused for a moment as she looked at Ruby, struggling to find any excuse to be alone. It wasnt like she could just tell Ruby not to come back to the dorm, nor could she just stay with team JNPR when the rooms are already pretty cramped, but it wasnt like she had anywhere else she could go or stay for the couple weeks that break was. Finally she let out a sigh and motioned for Ruby to follow. “We can have a quiet day then, right?” 

“Of course! No adventures, just us, homework, and a good book.” 

“You know I do more than just read, right?” 

“Well, yeah, but its a cold day and its not like we’re going to be going outside or going to have classes. And while Weiss and Yang are away, we dont have enough people for a board game without asking Jaune and his team, but then that’ll give us too many.” 

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this, didnt you?” 

“I dont think anyone should have to spend break alone.” 

Blake smiled a bit at hearing that, watching as Ruby got up to follow her. “Then, maybe we can do something else. Besides read or play games.” 

Ruby looked at her. “And what do you have in mind?” 

“We could talk about the people we like.” 

“Talk… about the people we like?” Ruby asked with a blush. 

“You know, talk about boys or girls we have a crush on. Maybe even do some of that girly stuff that Weiss likes like doing our nails.” 

“I didnt think you’d be into that kind of stuff.” 

“I’m not normally,” Blake admitted as she opened a door for Ruby. “But the way Weiss talks about doing her nails like its some sort of intricate ritual, I think it’ll be fun to try. Besides, I’ve realized that we really dont know much about each other beyond liking to read.” 

“We know plenty about each other.” 

“Like what?” 

“W-well, you uh… you… like to be alone.” 

Blake giggled a bit as she watched Ruby fumble around a bit while trying to find anything else she knew, blushing a little. While it wasnt exactly uncommon to see Ruby like this, it was different to see her be so uncertain of herself and a bit more shy while she tried to think. Just another thing that made her fall for her leader the same way she had started to fall for Yang. “You arent completely wrong.” 

Ruby sighed. “Alright, maybe you arent entirely wrong that we dont know each other that well.” 

“We have been spending a lot of time with your partners. Weiss drags you around where she wants to go, and Yang and I have been trying to get a bit closer so we can figure out how to work together like you and Weiss.” 

“I wouldnt take Weiss and I as a… good example to follow. We still argue a lot and the only reason we seem to be working well together is because Weiss has decided to try to follow my lead and take a step back from trying to be the leader.” 

“And yet, you both seem to be able to work with each other almost as if you’ve known each other for years.” Blake sighed and opened the dorm door for Ruby, letting her in first. “I envy that. Yang and I still have to call everything out and even then, its hit or miss if what we do works.” 

Ruby sat down on Weiss’s bed and took her shoes off. “And you dont see the training she puts me through. Sometimes I wish she’d lay off trying to get everything perfect. Though, I have to admit, having a silent signal for what we want to do has made things a bit easier.” 

Blake closed the door and went to her own bed, taking her book out of her bag to set down on her pillow. “Still, it all seems to be working for you.” 

“You and Yang arent exactly slouching either when it comes to working together. I’m a bit jealous with how often the two of you go off together.” 

“Jealous, huh?” 

“W-well, not exactly too jealous, just… well… you know, the two of you are always going out to eat together and she knows you a lot better than Weiss and I do, so… you know…” 

Blake smiled a bit as she watched Ruby try to hide her own blush as she fumbled with her words. It was refreshing to see her just as nervous as she was, even if it may have been for different reasons. “Yang told you I wasnt going home, didnt she?” 

“...yeah, she did.” 

“Well, I guess now’s a better time than any to get to know each other better.” Blake smiled a bit and pulled out a bottle of Weiss’s nail polish and sat down on the floor. “We can start simple by playing twenty questions. You start.” 

Ruby nodded and sat down in front of Blake. “Alright, what’s your favorite color?” 

Blake uncapped the bottle and made sure to get the excess nail polish off the brush before carefully painting Ruby’s nails blue. “Violet. And yours?” 

“Blue.” 

“I figured it’d be red.” 

“I like red, especially strawberry red, but its not exactly my favorite color.” 

“With how much red you wear, everyone thinks differently.” 

“The cloak my mom made for me when I was younger was red, and I never could find a blue that matched it,” Ruby answered, keeping her fingers still. “And once I started sewing my own clothes, it was easier to get ahold of black and red fabric than it was any other colors.” 

Blake paused for a moment. “You sew your own clothes?” 

“I thought it was my turn to ask a question.” 

“R-right, it is.” 

Ruby took a moment to think. “So, what made you want to be a huntress after you left the White Fang?” 

“I… wanted to do something to fix the damage I’ve caused.” Blake dipped the brush in the nail polish again before starting another finger. “Before I realized how far Adam was willing to go, I… I thought following the White Fang was the right thing to do, that those that left were just cowards willing to give up on changing everything. But after a few years, I started to realize that we did a lot more damage than good. It didnt take long for me to start looking for excuses to avoid missions or to start looking for other ways to get the job done while hurting as few people as possible. After I left, I told myself I was going to fix things the right way.” 

“Sounds like you’re on the right path now.” 

Blake nodded and slowly started to move onto a third finger, making sure to be careful not to stain Ruby’s fingers. “I hope I am. Though, there are some days that I think what I’m doing isnt enough.” 

Ruby moved her hand away for a moment to let the nail polish dry. “Your turn.” 

“So, who taught you how to sew?” 

“I learned on my own.” 

Blake smiled a bit and moved Ruby’s hand back towards her to finish off the rest of her fingers. “Seems a bit tough to learn on your own.” 

“It was.” Ruby held herself still again, letting out a soft sigh as she kept a smile on her face. “Yang taught me how to cook and build weapons, but when it came down to sewing, that wasnt something she was good at. And dad… well, he threw himself into work often, coming home late and usually a bit too tired to do much else beyond making dinner. So I’d look up how-to videos and learned to sew. It didnt take long for me to start sewing my own clothes and making my own style.” 

Blake paused for a moment as she listened, Ruby’s story sounding a bit different from how Yang would describe life when she was younger. Not that Yang really said much, but she always made it sound like she was the one who taught Ruby everything and that their dad was there more often than not. Still, she couldnt look away from the smile that Ruby kept, even if the smile wasnt as genuine as it could be. “Still sounds like a great skill you have.” 

“I wouldnt have made my own combat gear if I hadnt learned. Any hobbies you have besides reading?” 

“I… never really got myself into much.” Blake finished Ruby’s left hand and started to paint the nails on her right. “My mom taught me how to cook and my dad made sure I could live on my own if I ever needed to. But after I ran away, I… didnt exactly have a lot of time to pick up anything else. Most of everything else I learned to do was on the fly by other members of the White Fang. Lockpicking, basic hacking, pickpocketing… mostly things that were needed to get the job done.” 

Ruby smiled a bit. “Maybe you can teach me a few things.” 

Blake went quiet for a moment as she finished painting Ruby’s right hand, giving a small smile as she pulled away. “So, what do you think?” 

“I… think I dont quite understand why Weiss likes this,” Ruby answered. 

“Once your nails are dry, we can remove the polish if you dont like it.” 

“Let’s keep it on. Besides, we still need to do yours, right?” 

Blake nodded and passed the bottle to Ruby, holding out her left hand for her to paint. A blush crossed her cheeks again as she felt Ruby gently hold it still as she painted her nails. “So… anyone you like?” 

“Well, I like you and Weiss. Then there’s Penny and Jaune, Nora and Ren are pretty fun to hang around as well-” 

“I meant as a crush.” 

“Oh.” Ruby paused for a moment. “I… havent actually thought that far yet. Part of me thinks I might be a bit broken because I havent had a lot of interest in people like that.” 

“I doubt you’re broken.” 

“I tried dating a guy at Signal and I… couldnt do it.” 

“Maybe you need to find the right person.” Blake blew on her nails as Ruby pulled away to dip the brush in the nail polish again. “Or get to know the right person.” 

Ruby shrugged and pulled Blake’s hand back to finish her nails. “I think I’ve met someone that I might be able to make things work with.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Isnt it my turn to ask a question?” 

Blake nodded. “I guess I am getting ahead of myself.” 

“What about you? Anyone that you like?” 

“I-” Blake paused for a moment as she tried to figure out how to answer the question, her blush started to grow a bit. “There… might be someone on our team that I like. And I hope I can get to know her a bit more.” 

Ruby smiled a bit and finished painting Blake’s nails. “Maybe you’ll have a chance to.” 

Blake nodded and pulled her hand away, smiling as she looked at her now black nails. Then, she looked up at Ruby, relaxing a bit as she let out her breath. “Would… you go on a date with me? Nothing fancy, just… a trip around town and maybe you can teach me a thing or two about sewing.” 

Ruby paused for a moment, hand shaking as she put the nail polish away. “I… I think I’d be up to that. We can go tomorrow if you dont have anything else to do.” 

“I’d like that.”

[justa-moth]

this is an incredibly niche thing that will appeal to maybe like one other jrwi fan, but:

what crew i think various riptide characters would be on if they were tech theatre kids

because why not :]

Jay: - oh Set Crew for SURE dude - shes the head carpenter - she knows how to use every tool in the shop - she's the one helping the newbies learn said tools - she'll yell at you to be safe but also do the worlds most unsafe things - she probably gets thrown on fly rail alot and is bitter about it because she'd rather move stuff on stage

Chip: - Set - Now he might not be great at it - but he would just really enjoy using the power tools - (and Jay would be on his ass about it constantly because he is Not safe like at ALL) - he probably gets put on like the super heavy set piece for a scene change and will do nothing but complain about it

Gillion: - ok this one was hard - i dont think hes set crew - but i do think hes usually been crowned the official Heavy Set Piece Mover - just because hes the theatres resident Strong Man - honestly i think he's scared of most of the power tools tbh jhkfsdjhk - he's probably just general stage crew, aka just the jack of all trades guy that any of the crews can use if they need an extra hand - (however he never helps any of the crews that require like a steady hand, like makeup, costume, or props, just bc of how big and clunky he is hjkfsdjkh)

Queen: - probably props or makeup/costume - theyre utterly terrified of ANY power tools and will avoid the shop like the PLAGUE - she probably really enjoy just sitting and working on small details for props while they blare music - (she is also the person in the theatre with the BEST music tastes, literally the best rehearsal playlist) - you look away from queen for maybe an hour and he will come back with the most intricate and beautifully designed prop - and it ends up having maybe 5 seconds of screen time and will have to get deconstructed once shows over

Gryffon: - okay so he's the guy that everyone thought would be the resident strong man when he joined the theatre. - and while technically he is, this poor man finds a way to break fucking anything - working on a set piece? it will crumble when he walks in the room. - working on lighting? they lamps will explode - he's the murphys law man. if anything could go wrong, it Will if he's in the room - its gotten to the point where every show the theatre does a ritual to the Theatre Gods in hopes that gryffon's powers of Pure Destruction may be nullified long enough for them to actually get shit done - he probably just gets put on fly rail because thats the only thing he hasn't managed to break

Alphonze: - Lighting / Sound for SURE - i would trust this man to operate the board - he's literally a god at programming cues, hes always on time - he cuts the mic out the SECOND the actor leaves the stage, he gets mic problems fixed INSTANTLY - if somethings wrong with a light, he IMMEDITAELY knows how to fix it - he is essentially the Antichrist to gryffon's destructive power - its the Theatre Superstition that if Alphonze and Gryffon are in the same room for too long it'll cause a singularity

Lizzie: - Set or maybe even Stage Manager - she's probably stage manager, but like only hangs out with techies - because being in the room with the cast and their songs for too long makes her just actually wanna die - shes super chill, but then tech week hits and she means BUISNESS - her ass gets things DONE - they could be in any stage of the creative process, and lizzie will find a way to speedrun it in the best and most efficient way possible

Caspian: - Makeup / Costume - like i imagine him helping people do their makeup in the dressing rooms before show - he would also be that one poor head costume manager helping the main character with the worlds most stressful quick change - or the poor mf who has to speed safety pin someones clothes together because it ripped mid performance

Marshal John: - literally THE set guy, aside from Jay - you need something heavy moved quickly? get john - power tools broken? get john - literally any problem that could easily be solved by a Big Strong Man? john. - he, like gillion, is the other Resident Strong Guy - however all prop people know to never get NEAR him, because this poor man has a way of literally just breathing on a prop and causing it to shatter - he's just big and clunky and can't handle delicate things

Drey and Finn: - the resident Uncles of the theatre - they don't work there - but theyre there to support their Kids TM - drey probably donates random pieces of furniture to the set department - and finn makes BANGER meals for the crew when it gets closer to performance - and they work like 12+ hours without eating - finn will MAKE SURE these poor kids get their nutriants

Earl: - in the same vein, he's also just one of the resident Uncles - once before a performance earl didn't make them juice - and literally Everything went wrong - so now everyone is convinced that Earl's juice is Magical and Blessed - and if the theatre doesn't get blessed by his juice, everyone fears for their life - Earl uses this to his advantage, and will actively threaten people to drink his juice by saying like "if you don't drink this i'll make sure that chandelier breaks right before the finale!!" - and the poor set crew kids just start SWEATING

[ben-marco]

Do you have credible sources for cult abuse / ritual abuse? Because 99% of the stuff I've seen about it has been made up shit during the Satanic Panic. What cults are responsible for the abuse?

(Hope not coming off as mean or anything; genuinely curious!)

I think one thing to realize here is that "cult" is a loaded word with many connotations and a long history in this context. When people think of a cult they often think of what they see in the movies or on TV: sensationalized representations of people doing sacrifices or intricate religious rituals. A cult can look like many different things, and in my opinion a cult is any group that scores significantly on the BITE model. My understanding is also that the frequent use of the word "cult" in RAMCOA/OEA/CDD spaces is a holdover from decades ago when "cult" was the main descriptor used for any abusive group. Over the past several years, I have noticed people beginning to use the word "group" over the word "cult".

OEA can happen in many contexts under the banner of many different groups, religions, ideologies, etc. Some people are abused by groups of people from the Catholic Church or the Southern Baptist Convention. Some are abused within the bounds of the Mormon Church / LDS or within Jehovah's Witnesses sects. Some people are abused in smaller, more stereotypical "cult-like" groups like the Twelve Tribes. Some people experience extreme and organized abuse that is not linked to any religion or ideology at all. Abusers are opportunistic after all, and this is not about the religion or ideology portion, but moreso about the opportunity for an abuser to exploit a child. It just so happens that organized religion is an environment in which there are many such opportunities. Some abusers also intentionally twist or bastardize religious concepts in order to further their abuse and manipulate victims. In short, there is no single shadowy Illuminati-adjacent cult that is doing all of this.

Can I ask what you've seen so far? Svali, Fritz Springmeier, Cisco Wheeler, Colin A. Ross, and Ozian are all unreliable sources but unfortunately they are what people tend to stumble upon first when looking into this.

As far as I know, Alison Miller, Ellen Lacter, Michael Salter, and Harvey L. Schwartz are credible. There are others but these are the main four that I usually list. Michael Salter is of particular interest seeing as how he is a professor of criminology and works mainly on the judicial aspect of organized sexual abuse instead of on the psychological aspect of it. He is on the Board of Directors at the ISSTD, but he is also an advisor to Australian and Canadian agencies for child protection.

As I've said in responding to another ask on this blog, once I am less busy in the real world I intend to create a masterpost with a list of credible researchers and resources on the topics that I discuss.

[mandomaterial]

Forgotten pt.6

Pairing: Tonowari x Metkayina!reader

Wordcount: 3.4K

Warnings: slightly feral mc, needles, humans, and i think that’s it. Maybe a little angst?

Notes: sorry that this took so long- i had a little bitta writers block… but i think this is a nice chapter btw the new guy is an oc so he isn’t in the avatar franchise :3 please leave some suggestions about what should happen to the reader.and ill try to update every week or so! Pics not mine, credit to the owners!

Masterlist /// Previous /// Next

Over the next few days the young human boy, Spider visited you every day. The two of you talked about anything and everything, it was very comforting to have someone around that spoke your language.

You were curious about him, so you asked lots of intricate questions. Why was he here? What’s his connection to the forest Na’vi? How did he speak your language so well, he even had a forest accent.

He answered most of them with enthusiasm. Telling you the story of him spending a lot of time with the sully kids and growing up in the Omatikaya clan, being there for all the events and learning their ways.

Spider explained that his father had been killed by Jake Sully's mate, Neytiri, in the first sky people war, but scientists had made an avatar for him a few years ago and inserted a chip that had a copy of his father's mind on it. You truly struggled to grasp the concept so he tried to explain it like he was reborn into the new avatar body after his death, when he died, but he was already twenty years old; you understood better but it still confused you at times.

Spider also tried asking you simple questions first and when you answered all of them he started coming out of his shell; starting to ask bolder questions. He asked about your family and your life as tsakìk of the Metkayina. How was your life different from the forest people’s? What were the animals like? What did you eat?

You happily started telling him stories of the metkayina traditions and the Iknimaya, where you had to bond with a tsurak and complete several trials with your spirit sibling to earn your place amongst the people. Even telling him that you struggled immensely when you had to bond with the wild beast and that you preferred the tasks with your spirit sister a lot more.

You told him many stories about you and your sister, Ronal, when you were training to become tsahìk; how much trouble you’d get yourself in with her, doing whatever teenagers did. Your favorite ones though were the ones where she’d cover for you when you snuck away with the handsome, brave, and charming young man you’d had a crush on; once you’d gotten caught with him past your curfew and your father threatened him for at least half an hour and scared him half to death. You giggled as you remembered. You continued that that boy was now your mate and father of your children.

He in return asked about your children, being curious about them. Starting with your eldest, your son A'onung, you described him as a brave troublemaker; he always hung out with his friends and was very caring toward his sister, even if he didn’t like showing it. A'onung loved his spirit brother as well and they’d spend a lot of time together once the tulkun returned.

Spider continued asking about your daughter; Tsireya. You started by telling him that she was a truly good-hearted and beautiful young lady who loved dancing and performing. She’s always be a performer when the tribe held celebrations or spiritual rituals. From time to time, you would teach her how to prepare medical remedies or how to lead sacred rituals. She was growing up so quickly and from what you’d seen, she had her eye on the youngest sully boy; Lo'ak.

Once you said that spider instantly asked how the sully's were doing. It didn’t surprise you, after all, they were kind of his family. You thought about it for a few seconds and then decided to tell him about how Lo'ak and A'onung went outside the reef. You’d never been so angry at A'onung in your life! Leading the poor boy out and stranding him there; who knows what could have happened? But after that little stunt, the boys seemed to get along better- even going as far as to say that they had become friends.

Next was the story about how Jake learned to ride a tsurak. It took a while because he didn’t want to start with an ilu; it would have hurt his pride too much. You both giggled. Jake had tried to tie his hand to the saddle grip but even that failed and he was left with some nasty leather burns. Spider confirmed that to Jake, like all men, his pride was one of the most important things.

Neytiri was a skilled warrior; so she decided to join the hunters. At first, she was just tasked with catching fish, but she wanted to hunt something bigger. So she forcefully made her place known amongst the others when she came back with a quite large deep-sea creature.

Spider and you talked for hours upon hours almost every day until you sent him off to bed. Then you were let alone in the dark room, having no items of comfort to keep you company. You thought about asking Spider for a few things, but you didn’t want to get him in trouble so you kept your lips sealed.

In the dark, the only thing that plagued your mind was your old life. The life you had just a little while ago. Oh how you wished you could return; not even getting the chance to tell your mate that you were with child again. What would happen if you didn’t return? How would you return? Your heart clenched and you placed your hand on your lower abdomen gently, hoping to comfort yourself and your baby as you tried to sleep.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After you had sent Spider away, he decided to go talk to his father again. He’d seen how miserable you were in that tiny cell; you’d always curl up in a corner, trying to keep warm in the night. His mind was troubled with thoughts and just as he turned the corner to his father’s quarters, he bumped into someone. He looked up, wanting to apologize, and saw the familiar figure.

“Whatcha' doin' here kid?” Quaritch questioned while placing his hands on his hips, cocking his head to the side, and giving his son a questioning look.

“Uh- well… I wanted to talk to you,” he answered, “about the different room…”

Spider awkwardly moved his arms from side to side, looking away, not knowing what to do.

“Heh- I was just about to tell you the news,” he chuckled “I talked to some people and uuuh- told them to move her closer so that I can ‘keep an eye on her’” his fingers did little air quotes as he said it with a light mocking tone in his voice.

Spider's eyes lit up just a bit and he gave his father a genuine smile “Thanks Dad”

“No problem, kiddo” Quaritch sighed, a good feeling bubbling inside him at the thought of making his son happy; truly a strange feeling. He watched as Spider shuffled away, looking over his shoulder back at him, once or twice, cracking a smile as he turned the corner.

Spider had a little spring in his step; he couldn’t wait to tell you tomorrow! He continued thinking about what else he could do to bring you comfort. Maybe he’d ask what your favorite food was and get it when he joined his father on a mission again or he could ask if you’d like to do something like weaving or seeing, he could easily find the materials for that.

He finally wanted to see you smile; he wanted to see you happy for a change.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The morning came and you were blinded by the bright light flickering on in the cell; same as ever. You tried to shield your eyes by covering them with your arm, trying to get a little more rest. Just then a wave of despair washed over you. You wanted to go home; you wanted to return to your family; to your children.

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over the edge and rolling down your cheeks. You tried rubbing them away but that only man’s it worse; all your locked-up feelings spilled over. Sitting up you curled up against the wall, not knowing what to do. Would they ever let you go? Would you have to stay in this horrible room forever? These thoughts made your heart crack and crumble. You tried so hard to stay strong; for yourself and the little life growing within your body, but it was all for nothing. Nothing had changed and you don’t even know for how long you’d been kept here. Too long. Something needed to change.

Suddenly your anguish turned to anger; it was like a feral beast woke inside you. Pushing yourself up to your feet you, took a few steps around the room, observing it once more like the thousands of times you’d done before, your tails swishing dangerously behind you. The room had one wall that looked different, similar to the water, you could see your reflection. It was so clear and you’d never seen something like it before. There had to be a reason why it was there. Could something be behind it? You couldn’t know for sure but as you walked closer and closer, you’d started bearing your fangs and claws. Just like that, you charged against the wall, banging your fists on it.

Little sounds came from behind the wall. Hah- so there was something there and you’d given it quite a scare. You continued, trying to get more reactions from the thing that hid behind the wall. This went on for quite a while until you heard the mechanical door open. Thinking it was the human boy, you lowered your guard. Big mistake. Six human soldiers came in and you started hissing again, taking a defensive stance. They walked over with hurried steps, taking your personal space. As one tried to touch you you pushed him away, sending him flying across the room. The others made quick pace and tried binding your wrists. You were busy shoving off two humans as a third grabbed your arm and fastened the orange cuff. Knowing what would come next you tried to get them all off you, never holding your hands close in fear of them being bound again.

It was no use, soon someone grabbed your second arm and pulled it behind your back, forcing the second cuff around your wrist, locking them together. You yelled and screamed as you tried to escape their clutches only to feel a sharp sting on the side of your neck. Suddenly you felt ever so drowsy, your eyes closing as if you had no control over them. Sinking to the floor, calming down you saw that the humans circled around you, talking. Then your eyelids fell shut and you lost consciousness.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As soon as you had lost consciousness the soldiers calmed down. “So uh- what are we supposed to do with her now?” one asked. “They told us to just knock her out before something happens- wait a sec il call someone.” another answered. While he talked the others observed you. You looked different from the recoms; you were a lighter color and had a different body. They all looked at you weirdly, one even nudging you with their foot until they heard their colleague hang up the phone.

“I asked around and the lab rats said that they wanna have her, so I guess we’ll bring her there,” he claimed while shrugging his shoulders. “You two, go get a cart to load her up. I ain’t carrying that thing.”

Just as told, two left and came back a few minutes later with some sort of transportation device. They parked it next to you and awkwardly tried to lift you onto it. Finally, they managed by holding you under your arms and dragging you over the rough surface, scratching your back as they did so. When you were finally on the cart the first man turned around and motioned for the others to follow him. It wasn’t long until the group reached the large metal door that closed off the science lab from the outside.

One of the soldiers went up to the touchpad, silently punching in the code to make the door open. The cart wasn’t pushed in first, being followed by the other men. They’d not been here often and this place always put them on edge, for they didn’t know what would happen. Your turquoise skin glistened under the fluorescent lights of the lab, pulling all the attention towards you.

Just then a tall scientist in a pristine long white lab coat came into view.

The head scientist rubbed his hands together with glee as he looked at the unconscious Na'vi. "This is it," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "This is what we've been waiting for.” he looked around the little crowd of soldiers “Thanks for bringing her here, dismissed.”

They all gave him a little salute, turning to walk out again, but the last one of the group gave the scientists a dirty look. They shouldn’t be taking orders from a nerdy lab rat, he scoffed silently.

The man was still standing over you, inspecting your physical form. You’d been the first Na’vi of a different species to enter his workspace and he was definitely looking forward to running some tests, so he told his team to help him put you on one of the large examination tables. It took quite a few people but once up there they began checking your vitals.

As the head scientist listened for your heartbeat, he heard his name being called out.

“Dr. Matthew! A call just came in and General Ardmore is on her way to the lab to discuss something.” The younger scientist shouted as she ran over to the table. Dr. Matthew rose to his full height, placing the stethoscope to the side, and smoothing out his lab coat. “Did the general say what she wanted to discuss?” He asked with a bitter tone in his voice. He didn’t like when people messed with his work or gave him instructions on how and what to research. He didn’t become a top scientist only to be given orders by someone who doesn’t even understand his work.

“N-no… she didn’t specify…” the young woman said. Matthew noticed that she wasn’t on his usual team and she had a short lab coat, which meant that she was still studying. Could she be an intern? He thought to himself. So he skied “I haven’t seen you here a lot, are you an intern?”

“Oh- y-yea I just transferred from communications… seems they put me in the wrong unit when I came here.” She stuttered, avoiding eye contact with the experienced lab leader.

He hummed in response, walking past her to greet the general at the door. Just as he unlocked it he could see the frightening woman turn the corner. Putting his hands on his hips and slapping a smile on his face, he called out to her.

“General Ardmore! How nice of you to visit my lab. Can I help you with anything?” He asked with a smirk glued to his face, a slightly annoyed tone in his voice.

“I just got the news that the new specimen was delivered to you. What’s that about, I thought I told them to keep her in her cell,” she replied sternly.

The doctor sighed “Look, she went feral for a sec there and they asked me if I wanted her. Of course, I said yes! Do you know what we could do with her? We can sample her DNA and grow new avatars that are adaptable to water? And- there’s such a difference in species. You should see her- she, she looks completely different! Different body structure and everything!” he started rambling, clearly excited about the new discoveries he was going to make.

“Listen, I don’t care about all your sciency stuff alright? I need to make sure that we meet our clients' demands and that you don’t spend all your time and resources on your silly little avatar program. That feral beast belongs dead- six feet under! What are you going to do when she wakes up and goes wild again huh?” She prodded. To be honest, Dr. Matthew hadn’t thought about that, so he quickly tried to come up with something.

“Uhhh- uh well give her sedatives! Make sure she stays calm. But then again…” he started thinking.

“But then she won't be able to cooperate.” She finished for him.

“Yea… that…” he raised his hand to his chin and thought for a bit “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out”

The general sighed and looked around the lab, seeming just the tiniest bit of you, laying on the table, motionless.

“You better, and don’t spend all your time on that thing. You hear me, doctor?”

“Yes ma’am. Will do.”

“Good. I'll leave you to it. I'll check in now and then to keep an eye on you understand?”

“All clear.” He followed up with a little two-finger salute as she turned on her heels and walked off, not looking back even once. Matthew let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, relieved that he managed to get her off his back. Even this was one of the more gentle encounters he had with her. Tough woman.

He walked past the open lab doors once more, closer to you. Someone handed him a checkboard that had all your vitals on it. What an efficient team he had. He looked over it with care, checking for anything abnormal but everything seemed fine. His eyes slowly shifted from the paper to your unconscious form. You were so mysterious and he had never wanted to examine something this much before. He had grown up, learning about the Pandora project and the Avatar program. He read all the books and studied hard just to be here, and now he was the first to see a new species of the indigenous people of the foreign planet. He was just itching to start running tests.

But he didn’t know where to start. What should he do first? He ran a hand through his hair, hoping t come up with a plan. In the end, he decided it was best to start fresh tomorrow. He made sure that the sedative was dosed correctly so that you wouldn’t wake up for at least another day. Then he told his team to hit the hay and get some rest. After all, tomorrow he needed them to be sharp as a knife, as they would start their examinations.

He himself was the last to leave, taking one last look and finally locking up the lab. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow, but first, he had all night to organize his plans for you. Oh, how exciting!

[ramblingoak]

His Dark Song, Chapter 1: Let’s Get Started

~ A man covered in occult tattoos, a difficult ritual, sex magic...would you be able to survive months alone with Cardinal Copia? ~

Copia x f!reader

This was for week two of the challenge put on by @petrifyingpapas last year and the theme of the week was “Incantation”.  This story was inspired by the movie “A Dark Song”, but I’ll be giving it a Ghost twist.

Warnings: alternate universe, mentions of past child loss, violence, eventual smut, 18+ only mdni

His tattoos looked like they were glowing.

The swirling words and symbols that covered most of his skin had always caught your attention, but right now you couldn’t look away.  He had said tonight would be the night, that all the months of hard work you had both been putting into the ritual would finally pay off.  That the thing you had been attempting to summon was finally going to appear this very night and you’d finally get to ask your wish.

Copia continued to murmur under his breath in Latin, tracing intricate symbols into the air between you with his fingers.  He was mesmerizing, he had always been mesmerizing even when you had first met him in that diner.  Despite his attitude and his penchant for pissing you off you had quickly become entranced by him.  Copia had been your only companion for six months now and you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from falling for him.

The sex magic had certainly helped.

“Are you ready, dolce?”  You met his eyes and nodded, taking a steadying breath before you held your right hand out towards him.  He brought it to his mouth, dropping a quick kiss on the back while winking at you.  Copia turned it so your palm was facing up and traced a symbol on your tingling skin with a finger before letting you go.

His mismatched eyes looked into yours then, holding your gaze steadily.  For a moment you thought he was going to say something else, but he gave a quick shake of his head before reaching down to the floor beside him.  The dagger’s blade flashed in the dancing light of the room and you held your breath when he raised it into the air above his head.  Neither of you glanced away from each other, Copia just raised an eyebrow and you slowly blew your breath out before you spoke.

“I’m ready.”

Copia winked once more before bringing the dagger down.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ six months earlier ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The house was old. 

It wasn’t really a surprise, all the houses this far in the country were. Most had been passed down between a few generations. Many were boarded up.  You had seen the insides of quite a few at this point but as soon as you had walked inside of this one you knew. 

This one would work. 

The realtor continued to drone on as he followed you around.  Mentioning things he thought you’d be interested in. How the furniture was included. The age of the paintings adorning the walls. He thought you would care and while you didn’t, not really, you let him say his piece. 

“It’s a one year contract unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry?”  You had made your way to the main room on the second floor, large windows took up most of the wall letting you watch the sun set behind the hills. 

“The lease, it’s for a year.”

A year. Would this take that long?  You had only been able to find a few accounts of the ritual being attempted.  But the information had been scarce and you weren’t sure if you trusted the sources. 

“Utilities are included though, which is rare around here. You’ve got privacy and plenty of land to roam around.”  The realtor had walked up to the windows to stand next to you.  “Do you have any kids?”

Your body froze like it always did at that question. People always asked it out of polite curiosity. No one would ever ask if they knew the truth.  

“I did.”  You let yourself have a moment to stare him down, to watch him deflate before you turned and walked back towards the hallway.  “I don’t anymore.”

Cardinal Copia wasn’t what you expected. 

To be honest you had been looking for a man in a cassock while you waited in the diner, like the Cardinal’s had worn in the church you had attended as a child.  The man that had sat down across from you in the diner was in worn jeans and a red sweater that had seen better days. Dark brown hair with streaks of gray at his temples. He was handsome and your brain chose that moment to remind you about the sex magic the ritual entailed, making you fight the blush that wanted to appear on your cheeks. 

“So, in the mood for a little magic, eh?”  You would’ve smiled back if his had seemed genuine, but to you it felt like an act. There was an odd twinkle in his even odder eye, the left being entirely white. He squinted when you didn’t respond, looking back down at his plate and poking around the eggs with his fork. 

“Was it from an accident?”  Copia froze and looked back up at you. The blush couldn’t be stopped now, but you were mostly mortified you had asked such a thing. Thankfully he seemed more bemused than annoyed and looked back down at his food. 

“Not unless you call my birth an accident.”  

“Shit. I’m sorry, I’m just-I’m nervous.”  

Copia had shoved some eggs into his mouth but thankfully swallowed before responding. 

“Do I make you nervous, dolce?”  Your eyes narrowed at him but he just chuckled and crossed his arms. You let your gaze drift down to his hands, the backs of his fingers were covered in tattoos.  They looked like letters of some kind but you couldn’t tell from across the table.  From his fingers the letters turned into swirling patterns on the backs of his hands that continued onto his wrists and then disappeared under the sleeves of his sweater.  You shook your head and met his amused gaze.

“It’s a big undertaking, isn’t it?  The ritual.”  You reached out for your water glass but it was only to keep your hands occupied. “I think some nerves are to be expected.”

Copia hummed and reached a hand out, gently peeling one of yours away from the glass.  He held it up above the table, sliding his hand down to your wrist and holding his thumb against your pulse for a moment. He smirked and swept it back and forth across your skin a few times before letting go and then pulling his thumb into his mouth. He let it slide out with an obscene pop, smirking as he looked at your hand. 

It was shaking like a leaf. 

Irritated and a little embarrassed you yanked it back and crossed your arms over your chest.  Was he going to be like this the whole time?  You were ashamed to admit that you were glad he was…ok, glad that he was handsome. But you’d barely been in his presence for thirty minutes and he had you blushing like a teenager.  You needed to set some ground rules if he was going to act like this the whole time. 

“Cardinal Copia…”

“Just Copia is fine, dolce.”

“Fine, ok. Copia, we shou—“

“You need to be sure.”  You huffed and glared at him but he seemed unbothered.  “This ritual is delicate, so very delicate. Any nerves or wrong moves, this can ruin the whole thing.  Did you look into how long this could take?”

“I saw a few things that said weeks, bu—“

“Months, dolce.  This could take months.”  Months?  You’d be stuck in that house with him for months?  “Months of strenuous, precise recitations. Of cleansing your body, your soul.  Is this something you’re ready for?”

“Yes, Copia. Yes. I’ve been ready, I’ve done the research.”  You were starting to worry he wasn’t going to do this. There weren’t many others you could ask and none besides Copia that you had heard had actually been successful at it before. 

“What about the sex magic?”  The poor waitress was walking by at that moment and stumbled, Copia reached out to help catch her, gently grasping her elbow before she ended up on the floor. The poor thing was blushing even worse than you had been. He gave her a wink before directing his attention back to you. 

“I can do whatever magic is required as long as you can do the ritual.”  

Copia reached for his napkin and wiped his mouth, throwing it onto his plate before reaching down for his bag he’d brought in with him. 

“Oh, don’t worry about me, dolce.  I can do the ritual.”  It was your turn to receive a wink from him, but before your cheeks could redden he stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go see this house.”  

He didn’t seem particularly impressed with the house, but he also hadn’t been very impressed with your car. 

“Dolce, how old is this thing?”

Or your music collection. 

“I didn’t know they still made CD’s. Do you have any ABBA?”

When you arrived at the house itself he had let out a string of Italian and none of it sounded complimentary.  You gave him room to wander, unpacking some of the supplies you had already gotten and shoving them away in the kitchen.  There was a large freezer in the basement so if this was happening you’d have to go back to town and stock up on food. You weren’t sure if you'd be able to leave once the ritual started. 

If it did start. 

After an hour or so you started wandering the house in search of him. You smelled a faint hint of cigarette smoke inside but there was no sign of the man himself. It wasn’t till you found your way back into the main room and its large windows that you spotted him. He was standing near the pond the estate had, watching the sunlight dance across the water. 

By the time you made it out there the sun was dropping rapidly into the horizon. You couldn’t smell any smoke on him so you held off admonishing him for it.  It would take forever to get the smell out of that old furniture if he spent the next few months smoking all day. 

“Do you remember my fee, dolce?”

“Yes.”

“How about everything the ritual entailed?”

“Yes, yes Copia we’ve been over this. I’m ready.”

“You say this, but I don’t think you understand what it means. So you must be sure, absolutely sure.”  

“Goddammit, yes!  I'm sure!”

“Then tell me why you’re doing this.”

“Wh-what?”

Copia sighed and turned away from the water to gaze at you. That white eye of his was so unnerving you kept wanting to look away. 

“I want to know why you’ve done all this, why you’ve hired me.”  He took a step towards you and you had to fight the instinct to take a step back. 

“For love.”

The look of disgust on his face was immediate and he stepped back away from you. 

“Love?!  Are you serious?”

“Yes!  Why does that—hey!”  Copia had turned and started stalking back towards the house, but you were hot on his heels.  “Hey!  What’s wrong?”

The only response you got was a scoff and some more Italian. When you tried to grab his arm he ripped it away and then yanked the back door to the house open.  Before he could get to the kitchen where he left his bag you shoved yourself in front of him and blocked the doorway. 

“Move.”

“No, not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong is you’ve wasted my time!  I came all the way out here for some bullshit, spoiled little rich girl fantasy!”

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with love as a reason to do this!”

Copia groaned and shoved his hands into his hair, taking a few steps back from you at the same time. 

“This is a sacred thing. ‘Love’ isn’t enough.  It needs to be more than that.”

“More than love?”  You bit your lip and let your eyes wander around the room. Your own bag was sitting in a chair nearby. There weren’t a lot of things you had traveled with but there was something in there that was more dear to you than anything else you owned.  A token of someone that you longed to speak with again.

Copia was watching you expectantly. Waiting for you to convince him. 

“I love someone and they…they don’t love me anymore.”

“So?  You’re going to torture yourself for months on end, torture me for months on end?  And for what?  To get your boyfriend to love you back?”  

You closed your eyes and started shaking your head, but he used that moment to shove past you. It made you stumble and you had to grab onto the doorway to stay upright. 

“Copia!  Please, you don’t understand!”

“No, dolce, I don’t understand and you’re doing a shit job of fixing that.”  With his bag in hand he turned to glare at you, his icy white eye seemingly staring into your soul. “I’m supposed to summon your guardian angel for you. A being that will grant you anything your heart desires and you’re going to choose making an ex love you again?”

“You get a wish too, don’t forget that.”

“Trust me, dolce, I’m not forgetting that. That wish is the only reason I’m here. It’s the only reason I’ve done this before, that I’ve tried this before.”  He started moving towards the back door again and you flung yourself into the doorway once more. Copia growled and spun around to go through the other door and towards the front of the house. 

Fuck, fuck this couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t let him go, you couldn’t let this chance go. Copia was the only one that could make this happen. The only one that could give you what you wanted. 

“It’s for my child!”  You watched as he froze with a hand on the front door. He didn’t turn around yet, but his hand remained still so you continued, “I lost my child.”

“How?”

“He was taken from me.”  Copia turned then and regarded you, waiting for you to continue.  “My child was kidnapped.  He was murdered and I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“You want to speak to your dead child?”  

Later you’d sob in the room you’d chosen. In your hand you’d clutch the little action figure you always kept with you. The little plastic ghoul your son loved so much. Right now you looked into Copia’s eyes and nodded, silently begged him to change his mind, to help you. When he tossed his bag onto the floor by the door and spoke again you nearly sagged in relief. 

“Okie dokie, let’s get started.”

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[earlgreytea68]

I’m new to the peterick scene— what would you say are the top five things that happened or the key things to know about them? My current basis of knowledge is a mess of song lyrics, somewhat accurate facts, and old pictures. help!

omggggg hahaha this is such a difficult question because these two are so ridiculous, it's like...EVERYTHING. lol

I'll try to give five, this is totally subjective, off the top of my head, what jumps out at me randomly, Idk.

I will preface all of this by saying -- because I think I contribute to this societal pressure with my fic and so I try to make this statement whenever I can -- I think our society places an unnecessary amount of important on sex and romance as being the end-all-be-all of human relationships, whereas I think all of your relationships can and should be important to you, not just the ones with sex in them. These two are soulmates in a use of the word that has zero to do with anything other than my knowing that their souls met each other and recognized each other and clung fiercely to each other ever since, in a million different ways, and that might not be romantic but it is romantic. Y'know?

(1) Patrick Stump, whose voice is so incredible that it's ridiculous, still doesn't think he's a singer. He's a singer because Pete saw a singer in him, because Pete can't sing like that and so needs to sing through Patrick. But Patrick thinks Pete is really the band's singer. He said all this in a New York Times interview once. It's all a lot. But, anyway, Patrick sings because of Pete. He's also said Pete gives him purpose as an artist. He composes without Pete's words, but when Pete gives him words, it's like Christmas morning. For his part, Pete has said that he doesn't really like to work with anyone but Patrick, that Patrick understands him on a level similar to cryptophasia, and so Patrick will translate Pete-speak for other people, and without Patrick around, the whole process is a lot harder for Pete. So there's just...that, about the two of them.

(2) Pete used to wish Patrick dramatic happy birthdays on Twitter

He doesn't do this anymore (he doesn't do Twitter anymore) but still.

(3) They have a panoply of intricate rituals they perform on stage: play at each other at certain points of time, mouth certain phrases to each other, stand near each other during certain lyrics. Patrick has rituals with Joe as well, but Pete seems to have a lot of habits involving Patrick and wanders close to him at the same times in their songs. The last song they play every night is their Song About Them, the first song they really successfully wrote together, and that has the most intricate rituals, and they play it last every show even though many people watching have no idea what it is, because it is Their Song.

(4) Oh, yeah, they have a song hahahaha. (It's called Saturday. The lyrics are literally about them.)

(5) Pete had a rough time with the fame of his 20s. He was convinced he was going to die young (specifically: at the age of 27, when so many musicians have died). On Pete's 28th birthday, their manager called Patrick to congratulate him on making it. That's how much Patrick was supporting Pete. It's mutual, because when Patrick had a rough time years later and issued a cry for help, Pete showed up. Lots of their fans say Fall Out Boy saved their lives; Pete says it saved his life, too.

Also, I wrote up the longest thing about them hahaha it's here.

Also (6) the way they look at each other.

[their-dearest]

On the fourth day.

It was a melancholic, save for the pitter patter of the rain against Ruu’s straw hat.

“...” And for once, Paimon was as meek as a weakened mouse. Her small hands balled into a trembling fist, as tears welled up her eyes.

“So please go on ahead! I'll just be resting here for a while.”

The boy spoke with an earnest, yet tired smile. And he knows he’s at fault. He reached out to comfort her, but his hand stopped midway. As much as he wished to venture forth, the boy knew that his tale ends here.

Ruu stared at the pair for a long time, sculpting their forms into his memory. The mighty Traveller with their golden hair and the little floating spirits. He won’t admit it out loud, but…

‘...I am happy to meet you both.’

“We'll meet again someday for sure!” It took all of his strength to keep himself awake.

And on their fourth encounter, the golden Traveller and their floating spirit named Paimon left Tsurumi Island. The tired figure would watch Paimon steal glances everytime they grew farther from the sacred grounds. His eyes would never leave them until their golden and ivory hues melted with the uncharted seas, far beyond his sight. Beyond the little island he called home.

‘After two thousand years,’ Ruu's eyes, as he gazed at the weeping evening sky, ‘I’m finally free.’

For 2,000 years, he carried a heavy responsibility on his small shoulders. But thanks to the outsiders, the weight on his heart was lifted, just like the fog that governs over Tsurumi, but his eyes grew heavier. He is no stranger to death, of course. But being at its mercy felt… calming this time. Maybe it’s because he can finally rest on his own terms. At his own desire.

To say he’s exhausted is a travesty, humorous even. The mirthless joke earned a chuckle from him.

‘So… tiring.’

The world swirled under his feet, melting into an array of color and textures. Every step he took sinks to the muddy ground beneath him, swallowing the heel of his sandal in its greedy surface.

“That was my good shoe.” He protested, but his words barely reached a whisper. With a sigh, he dragged his muddy footing to the Sacred Grounds, an ancient perch said to be the nestling ground of their late goddess.

Bundles of thin, indigo leaves greeted his murky view, waving at his entrance. The Nestling Grounds, although withering, stood high and mighty against the iridescent weeds and glowing grass beneath its rotting roots. He’s only been here a few times, all of which involve intricate rituals and ceremonies.

And yet no matter how many times he's seen this place, he always found himself rendered speechless. Each breath he took reverberated on the hollow trunk of the ancient tree. His eyes, heavy from sorrow, were filled with unshed tears.

All the suffering, agony, and bloodshed he endured, finally got over him.

Tear after tear, the boy clung tightly against his soaked coat and sought any fleeting warmth it had to offer, but to no avail.

The young boy’s body rests against the dying tree as he steeled himself for what’s to come. He yearned for peace, but he mourned for his people, for the opportunities, for himself. It almost felt like a dream. A sorrowful dream after a thousand-year nightmare.

Slowly, the rain shower had picked up in pace, as it morphed into a heavy downpour and mingled with his newly-shed tears. Kama would’ve enjoyed this moment, but alas, he joined the Ferryman’s boat long ago, just like the others.

Oh, How he missed the cold breeze of the monsoons,how he missed the rain streaming on his cheek, how he missed the sound of the roaring thunder from the distance—

‘Wait… thunder?’ His mind was flooded with a million thoughts at once.

‘That can’t be. Kapatcir is dead. I saw the Serai Islands with my own eyes!’

But a silver lining of hope shimmers in his mind.:

‘She won’t come all this way for me, would she?’

Those thoughts snapped him out of his tiresome trance, pulling him away from its prying grasp. Just as he's about to speak, another voice boomed within him.

“Cease your worries,” A familiar and unforgettable voice echoes within his mind, “Ruu.”

A small, yet shaky gasp left his lips. His dreary eyes gaze across the stone walls of the mountain, only to be met by the thundering rain in front of him. “Kapatcir?”

An agonising drawn-out static fills the air, and ounces of adrenaline rushed through his bloodless veins.

“Take a deep breath.” Her tone was not sharp and cold, a lovely contrast to the icy daggers that dripped down his skin. It was odd, he never heard this tone for a long time. And the last time he did came from none other than… his dearest mother.

And breathe he did. His lungs, deflated for almost two millenniums, relished the way the air swirled in him. If he were to tell his younger self about gaining the favour of the Thunderbird herself, poor little Ruu would look at him like a madman.

“How are you alive, Kanna Kapatcir? I thought you were—”

“—Dead?” She knew as much as he did, but saying those words still sting her heartless form. Death is a face common to even gods, and yet she finds herself at a lost.

To lose herself in grief, in sorrow, and soon, in madness. How far had she fallen? The Harbinger of Thunder and Storms reduced into a rabid best… she owe the Shogun her silent gratitude.

“My story has come to its end. Tragically, yes, but I am no longer with the living.”

There was no wind, no pain against his flesh, but those words made him stiff as a corpse, fitting for a dying boy like him.

‘She’s dead. Kanna Kapatcir, the Thunderbird is dead.’

“But,” a single question floated in his flooded mind, “How can you talk to me?”

A beat, before another.

“When that strange Traveler used my pinion, I felt something pulled me from the Depths. That said Traveler made a bridge for our souls.”

Kapatcir, the Mother of Thunder, muses. But her words took a tone sounding almost human… motherly, even.

With a deep sigh, the goddess continued once more, “Your story is far from over, Fledgling.”

Every word, every syllable she spoke was a soothing balm to his wounded soul. A long, exasperated yawn left his quivering lips, the familiar weight on his eyelids returned.

“What… what do you mean? I died a long time ago.”

But the goddess only responded with a hum. A hum shifting into a gentle lullaby, a familiar lullaby. Her voice, combined with her chirps, lured him in the tiresome trance.

“Rest your worries here, Ruu.”

‘"Ruu." She remembered my name!.

And with that, a boy named Ruu fell into a deep slumber, the sound of thunder echoed in his last moments.

Within the womb of Tsurumi lies a small, yet peculiar egg. Enveloped in a nest of Electro, the young fledgling slumbers once more, awaiting for a piece of its mother to be reborn.

It is quiet, save for the gentle humming of the thunder that once enveloped the foggy shores.

[viric-dreams]

Since the topic's been going around and getting me thinking:

Ockham enjoys the typical shows of romance, particularly those expressed physically. Heshethey does struggle though to be the only person in a relationship and the only means of physical/emotional intimacy or support for someone because of hishertheir transitory nature and personal priorities overriding romance. The Greater London Polycule is a good fit for himherthem. Emotional intimacy might be a bit more difficult because of the current identity crisis happening, but heshethey wouldn't turn down sex or any kind of physical intimacy. That's something that Ockham doesn't really have any hangups about, possibly related to living in close quarters with people most of hishertheir life and seeing it as something mundane and relatively normalised. Especially with hishertheir eclectic set of memories and experiences (many of them serpentine), Ockham finds the sexual mores of Victorian Londoners particularly inane at times. These elements also makes Ockham open to trying pretty much anything a partner may suggest, at least once.

On the other side of the spectrum is Roberts, who's actively irked by any overt signs of romance on Grand Geode, usually because that means said sequencers are distracted or shirking duties. Realistically, the negativity comes from it being something that he feels that he could never have as a consequence of both his sexuality and position (though it's not something he's self-aware enough to know, nor wants to think about). Anyone making romantic overtures at this point would be pushed away out of a mixture of him not believing that he deserves it, that said person is after some sort of advantage because of his position, and that it would be a distraction from The Work, with a healthy bit of fear of the unknown thrown in for good measure. He's built up a ridiculous amount of intricate rituals around physical contact with people that make sense only to him. Having any sort of a sex life is a nightmare when you're almost everyone's superior officer and instantly recognisable, and come with enough emotional baggage to hold every piece of sentient clothing in Polythreme, and thus regulated to quick and faceless encounters, often in foreign ports. Even then, the intricate rules persist: sex is sex, direct and perfunctory. Kissing is off limits, absolutely no lingering touches, nothing that feels too much like intimacy or involves giving up control or trusting someone. Get what you're here for and go.

Nite's lack of memory has made everything a novel option and possibility. This is not necessarily a good thing. His strong streak for showmanship and craving attention lead to some somewhat extreme behaviour. Those grand gestures that only seem to work in romance novels are exactly what appeals to his sensibilities and he's convinced that they would work in real life, and is apt to try. If boomboxes and romcoms existed in this era, he would be that guy. It clearly seems to work in the films, so absolutely worth attempting in real life. Because a lot of what he imagines romantic behaviour is comes from stories and not real life experience, he starts with the idea that this is what romance and seduction should look like. Many of these things are things he doesn't even necessarily enjoy, but he tries anyway because what does he know, maybe that's just how things are done. This does eventually modulate over time, when he gets a better sense for his own preferences, and the flair for the dramatic remains, but tempered. He is also very quick to emotionally open up and try to deepen a relationship (either romantic or otherwise), often faster than the other person is comfortable with. After a handful of negative experiences he's gotten better at this. Unlike Ockham, whose sexual tastes generally tend to be broader and has a fairly solid sense of hishertheir boundaries, Nite has the same "I'll try anything" approach, albeit it closer to an "I have to try everything to know what I like" outlook, and no moderation or sense of pacing. This has led to a handful of upsetting experiences (both for himself and any partner(s) involved) when he inevitably discovers far too late that this was not a good idea. His lack of knowledge of his own boundaries makes him dangerous to both himself and others.

Tamara's been on dates with some of her peers back in Varchas, but it was never something that intensely interested her, nor did she ever have a serious relationship. It was expected that she would eventually settle down, either with someone of her choosing from a similar class background, or through a suitable suitor introduced through her family. She did enjoy the attention that flirtation brought, but would be the first to tell you that she doesn't really know what she wants out of a partner either romantically or sexually, but of course has plenty of time to figure it out. In London, she has far more important priorities at the moment and isn't even entertaining the idea. Her initial suspicion surrounding Ockham's kindness was quickly assuaged upon realising that heshethey doesn't necessarily want anything from her at all and offering her a place to stay was simply an act of one outsider recognising another and offering a helping hand. Of course, there's plenty more regarding Ockham about which to be suspicious, but that's a different topic.

The Rubbery Barber Surgeon is in a healthy and loving butch/femme relationship with The Tentaclar Surgeoness. He enjoys filling the traditional masculine role that the Surgeoness, a huge fan of pulpy romance novels, seeks in a partner. Thus far, things have gone well for them, and they seem perfectly compatible. She might just be the one. He may have visited a particular jeweler on Flute Street a couple of times. He's slowly planning a very special date night for them in the near future.

[shipskicksandgiggles]

Hi! I would like to request number 16 from your prompts list for buckingham (and maybe platonic!stobin involved if you feel like it?)

Thanks!

hello! I know it's been like a month, but I finally got around to editing this so here you are! I went the platonic stobin route because it fits well with the original situation, but I hope you like it

prompt: “Well, I mean, the waitress was flirting with you.” “The waitress was what now?” (from this list) Read Coffee Cures on ao3

Since she’d started college in Boston, Robin’s chances to see Steve had seriously diminished. 

Not that Steve was still in Indiana or anything, he’d moved with her, they just weren’t roommates like they were in Indy that one summer, and between her classes and his work schedule, they hardly saw each other. 

However when they did manage to get together, it was always an event. 

They were going to dinner and ice cream near Steve’s apartment, and were fully committed to a night of drinking and bitching about each other's love lives. 

It was going to be a great night. 

“I know I shouldn’t think about her, but you dated her didn’t you? How long did it take to get over her?”

“A while, Robs, but that’s why I’m telling you you need to let her go.”

“I’ve let her go, she’s gone, she hasn’t called me first in months, why should I care.”

Steve gave her an unimpressed stare, but before he could say anything, the waitress walked up to their table. Her name tag read Chrissy, which Robin thought was the perfect name for the bubbly blonde. 

“Did you have enough time to look at the menu?” she asked. 

 “We did,” Steve answered. “I’ll have the BLT please.”

“Alright, and for you?”

“I’ll have the house burger, but can I get that without tomatoes?”

“Absolutely, no tomatoes, got it. Is ketchup still okay?”

“Yeah, ketchup is fine, I just don’t like the texture of tomatoes themselves.”

“I’m right there with you, hon, I have the same problem with cooked peppers.”

“Oh my god, that’s the worst, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, we always find ways to deal, don’t we?” She winked at Robin, who smiled. “I’ll get that right in for you, and I’ll grab you another round of drinks if you’re ready.”

They both gave the affirmative, and she gave them another smile before she walked off. 

“You have been using Nancy as a distraction all night, I desperately need to hear about your roommate that you’re not at all in love with,” Robin told Steve once the waitress was gone. 

Steve stared at her for a beat before scoffing. “Sure, bring up the roommate, why don’t you? I’ve told you before, nothing can happen there. It look long enough to find a roommate, I can’t fuck this up.”

“Even if he’s hot as shit and acts interested in you?”

“And occasionally walks around in just a towel which leaves very little to the imagination,” Steve mumbled.

Robin shrieked and smacked him with a napkin. “Oh my god, you’re joking. Details, I need to know how this happened.”

“Jesus Christ, quiet down and I’ll tell you. My lord, people are staring, Robin.” 

“Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

Half way through his story about the hot water going out when he’d had an irregular day off from work that somehow was way more involved than Robin had expected, the waitress brought their food. 

“BLT for you, and a burger, no tomato for the lady,” their waitress said as she sat the plates down. “Let me know if you need anything else, alright?”

“For sure, thanks,” Robin responded, still mostly enthralled with Steve’s story. 

Steve barely paused either, only doing so long enough to smile at the waitress and focus back on Robin before he continued. 

Robin was putting money on Steve making out with his roommate within a week. Why are their mating rituals so intricate?

“It’s almost like he’s flirting with me, but I think he’s just being nice.”

“So I see we still haven’t unpacked your homoerotic friendship with that friend of yours from high school yet.”

“Leave Tommy out of this, jackass.”

The bickering continued until their food and drinks had all been finished, and the waitress dropped off their check. 

Robin sighed. “Alright, who’s turn is it to pay while the other person argues about it like we haven’t been doing this since high school?”

“It’s mine,” Steve said, pulling out his wallet. “Want to pick up ice cream on the way home?”

“You read my mind,” she said, grabbing her jacket and bag. “Let me go wash my hands before we leave, and then head back to yours for movies, more drinks, and a hangover tomorrow morning.”

“Ugh, don’t even say the word, Robs. But yes, exactly that, let’s go.”

The waitress picked up his card while Robin was still there, and evidently dropped it back off while she was in the bathroom. Steve grabbed his copy of the receipt and they went back to his car.

The rest of the night went exactly as described. It was their tradition, and neither of them had to work in the morning. 

Even if they did feel like shit the morning after. 

Steve handed Robin a cup of coffee and a painkiller. 

She grumbled her thanks and flopped down at his kitchen table. “I’m really glad Eddie is out of town, I love the guy, but I don’t know him well enough for him to see me like this.”

“He definitely wouldn’t care, but I get it. He’s a real sweetheart, I promise.”

“Jesus Christ, I can’t wait for this guy to fuck you.”

He smacked her lightheartedly, but seemed to brighten as if he realized something. “Speaking of getting fucked-”

“If this is about Nancy, I don’t want to hear it, I will throw up on you.”

“It’s not about Nancy, it’s about someone else who might be interested in you.”

“Literally who else do I know who likes women that I have a shot with?”

“Well, I mean, the waitress was flirting with you.” 

“The waitress was what now?”

“Flirting. With you, Robin Kathrine Buckley.”

“The waitress from last night?”

“Yes, that waitress.”

“She was not flirting, Steve, what the hell. Why on earth would you even say that?”

“First of all, did you not notice she didn’t look my way the whole night? She looked at you every time she came to the table. Also, you talked to her about vegetables.”

“So?”

“Robin, platonic love of my life, that’s a conversation you only have with someone you’d be interested in having other conversations with.”

“I thought it was a normal conversation,” Robin muttered. “I still don’t believe you.”

“Fine.” Steve got up and walked towards the door, as if to leave. 

“This is your apartment, Steve, you can’t just storm out.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” 

She heard some shuffling and a noise of triumph before he came back in and slammed something on the table in front of her. 

“That’s our receipt from last night. I’m going to take a wild guess and say I wasn’t the one she left her number for.”

Sure enough, Robin was staring down at the set of numbers scrawled in the same neat, black pen their order had been, alongside another message. 

‘If you need help with the hangover you’re planning, I know a great place for coffee.  X, Chrissy’’

“What.”

“I’d take her up on that,” Steve said. “You look like shit but you can use my shower if you want.”

“I should call her?”

“Robin, if I have to dial the number for you, I will. Call her.”

She dialed the number and prayed to anyone listening that Steve was right. 

“Hello?” a feminine voice answered. 

“Um, hi, I’m sorry, Would your name happen to be Chrissy?”

“Yes,” the voice answered slowly. 

“Okay, okay, sorry, hi, I’m Robin, I think you were our waitress last night, and you left your number on our receipt.”

“Tomato girl!”

“Yeah, that’s me, I’m tomato girl.”

Steve snorted from where he was clearly eavesdropping. 

She ignored him. “Listen, I’d love to take you up on that cup of coffee if you’re still interested.”

“Definitely still interested. How soon can you be at The Brewery coffee house?”

“Give me 45 minutes.”

“Perfect, see you then, cutie.”

The line clicked, and Robin sat frozen in her seat. 

“Are you okay over there?”

“She called me cutie.”

“You’re meeting her in 45 minutes, you need to snap out of it and get in the shower.”

“This is true. Go through my overnight bag and find something suitable for a coffee date and substitute whatever you have to with things I’m sure I’ve left here.”

“Got it,” Steve saluted and went off to find her bag while Robin made her way to the bathroom. 

20 minutes later she felt loads better, and Steve had left a change of clothes on the counter for her. 

“Is this your shirt?”

“Not sure, it’s one of ours though.”

“Cool.” 

She changed and made a checklist of everything she needed before running out the door, promising Steve she’d text him updates and be back for her stuff later with a full debrief. 

As she raced down the stairs, she almost knocked Eddie over as he came home. 

“Eddie!”

“Robin, how are you?”

“Great, can’t stay and talk, but I’ll see you later. And actually,” she said, grabbing his wrist. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t do this and let you morons work things out at your own pace, but Steve did something nice for me this morning so this is me returning the favor.” 

She took a deep breath, allowing Eddie’s concerned face to ground her. “You’re not delusional, the feeling is mutual. You should definitely kiss him when you walk in the door.”

“Okay?”

“Great, hope you two finally bang it out! Put a sock or something on the door though, I’m coming back later and would rather not see your bare naked ass.”

“Noted.”

“Bye Eddie!”

And with that, she flew down the staircase and put the door in the direction she knew the coffee shop was.

[bunnyloaves]

having the terror tm thoughts rn

like this isn't even well structured meta, but just an aspect of the show i enjoy so much... like at the crux it is about tenderness and compassion. like just the decay and debility that the men experience. its indicative of how flawed and unstable british colonial constructs and social mores are. that in the empty barren spaces of the arctic, they have no need for all this posturing, for all this vanity, for upholding dress codes, morality, and decent conduct. sometimes, there’s no need to perform for some unseen audience back home (who are in some way Distinctly Not Privy to what goes down in the arctic but i will elaborate on this some other time, especially in the sense that they’re all going to be ‘immortalised’ as explorers so there's this baggage that the rest of britain is looking upon them to succeed, but their complete isolation obscures them from that audience, which then allows them to shed civility, and don on their monster-like characteristics, incurred by the need to survive).

and as the men grow more dishevelled, unclean, and sick. so do their moralities waver and weaken, and once the ‘garments’ and everything else it stands for are gone (ie. authority, social class and its divisions, &c) instinct and everything nasty ppl do based on that instinct is revealed. but the thing w the terror is that it never posits that man’s innate nature is purely violence and vileness, like it kinda has the opposite thesis, that there is a prevailing compassion, kindness in people (not necessarily drawn out bc of that violence, this isn’t “you construct intricate rituals to touch the skin of other men”, it's more on the when all is said and done, when else do you have to offer aside from the grimmest and bleakest of comforts)

[mr-president]

I really like your take on Levi, and now I wanna hear what was your Marxist critique on Levi.

Levi being transfem is interesting, though I can't really detach from Levi being tranmasc because the brainrot said so. I am aware there are trans men who also crossdress so it would seem like an interesting idea to have Levi dress in a feminine manner (probably courtesy of Marina) as a way as to not only distant himself from his past but also help him understand that he doesn't need to conform to society's standard of what a man should be. Wouldn't be surprised he initially accepted conscription because he tried to live up to that standard.

transmasc levi is a perfectly valid interpretation as well! if a character speaks to you in some way that makes you connect deeper w them, then kudos rock n roll my dude :3

anyway, k so basically the Marxist critique was like “levi’s suffering as a child soldier is somewhat presented as a depressing, unchanging ‘fact’ of reality is kind of disingenuous and peddles the harmful idea that everything awful in this world is ultimately unchangeable, and any attempts to change it is ultimately pointless.

‘because the funger world has the old gods who (though they have supposedly left) hold ultimate dominion over every event, then everything levi and to an extent all characters suffer is merely a machination of their existence. because the old gods exist, there is a sort of “reason,” the series posits.

‘and yeah, this is somewhat true to our reality because the systems that govern our world are quite intricate, vast, and unknowable—like a god beyond our comprehension— but it’s just that, a system, not a rule like the old gods of funger.

‘basically, Funger does this thing that i hate with most series where deeply bad shit happens and says “well, that’s just the way things are” to some extent—most attempts by people to break out of the cycle just repeat it once more, as per design.

‘levi—and every character’s suffering—may be resolved on an individual level (as they are in my interpretations bc i’m a whiny pissbaby who likes happy endings), but that still doesn’t really aid in addressing the root issue, does it? because that “root issue” is often ultimately presented as a result of otherworldly influences, beyond comprehension.

‘another Marxist critique is how the narratives of history have been ritualized, the world is ultimately controlled by the “Great Men” of history who decide how the next century should proceed. that’s literally how the New Gods operate, and though it’s mostly to emphasize how history continues to repeat itself, Funger doesn’t really acknowledge how humans have made real change. not through some kind of “great man” who was just Better than every other Guy around to cause any sort of change but

‘in a sense (and a potential counterpoint to my critique), you can interpret the ending A of Termina as a Marxist revolution—a collective movement of the people to unite as one and overturn the previous regime. the characters who get absorbed into Logic describe the process as something warm, like sleep, as they become something infinitesimally greater than themselves. the events of the festival can be metaphorically interpreted as a set of workers being pushed to their breaking point—individuals who have been largely cast out of their society and isolated from their work who now have “nothing to lose but your chains.” but i’d have to see where Mr. Haverinen takes Logic bc this interpretation is already super shoe-horny.”

But I didn’t go with this “opinion” mainly bc it doesn’t really address Levi too much and also bc I don’t really like presenting this opinion as something holistic. Like, this isn’t how the Funger-franchise is meant to be interpreted, and it’s point of view on suffering is less of a critique on class, power structures, the narrative of history, etc and more a reflection on a basic human condition: life sucks. Sometimes, you can’t do anything about it, but you persevere anyway. Here’s how you can use it for the better. But ultimately, this shit sucks, and sometimes that’s just the way it is.

It’s less concerned with solving problems and more focused on sympathy, suffering as empowerment, learning from it, that kind of thing. And I’m okay with just interpreting it as that bc that still is meaningful in its own way, and I think you get the most meaning out of a work of you view it from the perspective of how it’s meant to be interpreted.

Not to say that critiques or different POVs are completely irrelevant—the contrary actually. They reveal the deeper complexities abt the work or provide a fun reinterpretation for the sake of it. But ultimately, I didn’t think I’d be giving a genuine analysis if I analyzed Levi with this heuristic.

tldr; not everything needs to be disco elysium, unfortunately

[bronanlynch]

if ur still doing the character meme: reinhard lotgh?

yessss thank u I have many thoughts abt him

Sexuality Headcanon: has never once been attracted to a woman ever in his life. tbf not sure he's ever knowingly been attracted to anyone who isn't kircheis. everything else is just. well he really wants another want to be a worthy rival/nemesis in a way that isn't not kind of erotic but like. it's not Just erotic it is also very much abt wanting to die in battle to a ~worthy opponent Gender Headcanon: so like. in canon I do think he's a cis man especially considering how strictly gendered the empire military is and he doesn't seem to have much space in his brain left over for exploring his gender. however I do sometimes enjoy rotating trans possibilities in my head and I am compelled by the thought of transmasc reinhard bc I think that. given his ambitions he knows that he needs to be in the military, which means he needs to be/pass as a man (and also given what happens to annerose I think he has specific motivation to not want to navigate the world as a women), and I do enjoy stories abt people who crossdress for plot reasons and then decide that they're trans actually A ship I have with said character: he and kircheis sure are in love A BROTP I have with said character: I am obsessed w his weird complicated friendship w hilde, how she's the closest thing he has to a friend but he doesn't fully trust her bc he doesn't fully trust anyone, her going against his orders to save his life at the end of season 2 and him thanking her but not being able to forgive him, their inevitable lavender marriage, their "butch hitting on a twink she thought was a butch" energy, A NOTP I have with said character: uncomplicatedly romantic het4het reinhard/hilda I guess? extremely important to that dynamic to me that they are a gay man and a lesbian. like I can't really see him properly dating anyone other than kircheis but like. I'm certainly not opposed or immune to any of the homoerotic potential of his relationship w like. reuental or whoever A random headcanon: I think it would be fun if he and kircheis used to cut each other's hair. y'know. the intricate rituals of it all. the intimacy & vulnerability, etc etc. trusting someone else to shape ur appearance and therefore ur public image. and that's partially of why he grows it out after kircheis dies General Opinion over said character: he's so beautiful and so sad and so terrible and I want to study him like a bug. love that he's like. not wrong that the aristocracy is bad except unfortunately he's so much a part of the society that created him that he doesn't have any other way of dealing with it except with more militarism & imperialism & autocracy which does not fix anything in the longterm and will lead to his inevitable and tragic downfall. and also I think it's funny when he makes policy decisions that help the people without seeming to actually like. especially care abt that and everyone is like "oh wow maybe dictatorships are good actually." but yeah in general I love it when characters are tragic and gay and fucked up. and also I cannot wait to see the continually unfolding consequences of letting a 24-year old with a death wish become the most powerful person in the galaxy

[taimio]

Unveiling the Timeless Connection: Unearthing the Fascinating Bond between Humans and Plants through Ethnobotany

For as long as we can remember, man has shared a special relationship with plants. From providing essential nutrients to inspiring life-saving medicines and from providing soul-nourishing beauty to providing an anchor of stability in our daily lives, plants have been an incredibly important part of our lives. In this article, we explore the fascinating field of ethnobotany, the study of how people interact with and use plants. This timeless relationship, between man and plants, has been passed down generation after generation, and this article is an exploration of the evolution of this ancient yet unbelievably complex and beautiful relationship.

The Ancient Relationship Between Man And Plants: Exploring Ethnobotany

Imagine a world without plants - no colorful flowers to brighten our day, no towering trees to provide shade, and no delicious fruits to savor. As humans, our connection with plants goes far beyond mere aesthetics and sustenance. It is a relationship that has been nurtured and cherished for centuries, woven deeply into the tapestry of our existence.

Enter the fascinating field of ethnobotany, the study of how different cultures interact with plants. Ethnobotany takes us on a captivating journey through time, unearthing the intricate ways in which plants have shaped our lives and societies.

Long before modern medicine, our ancestors turned to the plant kingdom for healing remedies. In the face of illness and injury, they discovered the hidden powers of leaves, roots, and flowers. From soothing chamomile teas to potent willow bark pain relievers, nature provided the medicine cabinet for our early civilizations.

As Pliny the Elder once wisely said, Nature is the only book that offers knowledge without deceit, and love without regret.

Beyond their medicinal properties, plants have played a pivotal role in our cultural and spiritual practices. Ancient rituals and ceremonies frequently revolved around the use of particular plants, invoking their mystical qualities and honoring their sacred essence. From the incense of frankincense to the intoxicating effects of the peyote cactus, plants have served as conduits to the divine.

But it wasn't just the spiritual realm that benefited from our green companions. Plants have been our steadfast companions, providing us with food, shelter, and even tools. The invention of agriculture revolutionized human existence, allowing us to settle in one place and build civilizations. We owe our very survival to the humble plant.

Plants provided the sustenance we needed to thrive, nourishing our bodies and stimulating our taste buds.

They sheltered us from the elements, providing a safe haven in the form of sturdy wooden structures and cozy leafy canopies.

Plants gifted us with the materials for crafting tools, enabling us to shape the world around us.

Today, as we navigate the complexities of the modern world, our bond with plants remains as strong as ever. We find solace and peace in tending to our gardens, connecting with nature in a way that rekindles the ancient flame. The study of ethnobotany reminds us of our roots, grounding us in the knowledge that we are part of a vast and interconnected ecosystem.

So next time you find yourself marveling at the beauty of a blooming flower or savoring the flavors of a bountiful harvest, take a moment to acknowledge the ancient relationship between man and plants. It is a story of resilience, discovery, and profound gratitude. As we continue to explore the wonders of ethnobotany, let us honor and protect the botanical treasures that have shaped the course of human history.

For more insights into the fascinating world of ethnobotany, check out this article on Medium.

Learn more about gardening with Taim.io!