#i get that this is an inevitable part of pet ownership but this is my first she was my first

[hinamie]

;;

[voxofthevoid]

April Anniversary Final List

I've compiled the 15 fics/ideas you guys picked in response to this post into a detailed list (under the cut). The numbers (51, 43, etc.) are now obsolete because I've added another idea to the list—yes, the total is 94 now, 77 untouched—and plan to keep doing it, which will alter the numbers owing to the way they're organized by ship(s). The doc will stay publicly available (...though I should really go through it and fix all the typos and errors).

Like I said in the OG post, I want to write a scene of approximately 1k for each of these. That's easy enough, usually, but I also want these to be coherent, standalone scenes—connected to the overall fic 'verse, yes, but a self-contained short story nonetheless. And we all know that's not my forte. So, yeah, it's gonna be a hell of a challenge.

These WIPs are not getting struck from my list once I'm done though. I'll be poking at them later, the way I do now—one at a time, until I'm out of the fandom.

Also, the usual disclaimer: If health/IRL fuckery pops up, I'll postpone or cancel the project. Hoping that won't happen, but you never know.

#1. 51 @nearalways

Canonverse pet play featuring a developing relationship, in which Yuuji jokingly says Gojou’s like a puppy and Gojou takes it and runs with it. Yuuji discovers the dubious joys of pet ownership.

#2. 43 @naeldeus

Satoru and her bigass tits single-handedly turn Yuuji from an ass woman into a chest woman, and Satoru’s reaction to Yuuji staring at her tits is to basically smother Yuuji in them in the guise of a hug. It escalates predictably.

#3. 31 @fluffys-nightmare

Yuuji makes a binding vow with the Angel to let her kill him and Sukuna after Gojou’s unsealed, except it doesn’t go as planned and the end result is Yuuji and Sukuna completely merged.

#4. 55 @laughing-sock

A curse user’s failed technique leaves Yuuji with a plush-like replica of Gojou, which Gojou lets him keep. It’s harmless until Yuuji accidentally activates a connection between the doll and Gojou.

#5. 36 (anon)

Sukuna kills the Angel so they can’t unseal Gojou. Teen!Gojou drops into the timeline and retrieves the PR, but they can’t open it. Yuuji has complicated emotional sex with teen!Gojou and spends every spare hour gazing plaintively at the PR. Teen!Gojou is in it mostly for the sex at first, except that doesn’t last.

#6. 45 (anon)

Post-canon where defeating Sukuna still leaves Yuuji with all his loved ones dead. He’s trying to busy himself by helping rebuild society when a new 6E+Limitless user is born, named “Satoru” to honor the last one, and a few years later, the Gojou clan asks for him to be the kid’s bodyguard.

#7. 71 (anon)

Gojou dubcons Megumi in his dorm room while mocking him about his crush on Yuuji, and when Yuuji bursts in after hearing concerning noises, Gojou offers Megumi to him.

#8. 67 @yaoshifollower

Canonverse breakup-makeup AU in a no-Shibuya context, spanning the time from Yuuji’s first year to his early-mid twenties. The sukuita parts are hatesex culminating in cannibalism; goyuu is the endgame.

#9. 03 @lo-55

Gojou tries to seduce Yuuji by rapebaiting him—sleeping on and near him in provocative clothing. Yuuji resists until he doesn’t.

#10. 73 (anon)

Yuuji semi-accidentally seduces Higuruma after their fight in the Culling Games, and during the one-month time skip after Gojou’s unsealed, he manages to semi-accidentally romance both men to the point of inevitable heartache.

#11. 74 @kubo-chan

Pre-canon where Kenjaku pays their favorite child a few in-person visits, finds that Yuuji’s body is rejecting Sukuna’s fingers, and lets their scientific curiosity run a little wilder than usual. Years later, Gojou finds Yuuji while investigating unusual curse activity.

#12. 08 @cunt-recesses

Omegaverse-canonverse alpha/alpha where 20-something Gojou adopts Yuuji, who was being raised by a Sukuna-focused cult.

#13. 50 @zalondra

Omegaverse-canonverse alpha/alpha where becoming Sukuna’s vessel triggers Yuuji’s rut early, a couple of days after he’s accepted into Jujutsu Tech, and since the higher-ups aren’t willing to risk Sukuna’s vessel losing control during that hormonal mess, Gojou volunteers to help him through it.

#14. 42 (anon)

Someone makes the mistake of letting Gojou teach sex-ed to the first-years. It’s a pretty typical class for Nobara and Megumi, but Yuuji's living a different porn scenario every week.

#15. 24 (anon)

Sukuna–Yuuji role reversal where Yuuji’s more interested in his vessel’s teacher than the vessel himself, and Gojou gets too much of a thrill from playing with fire.

[cnwolf-brainrot]

I spent WAY too long on this, but I wanted to try drawing in different TMNT styles so here we are; I took Eight from Fallen Renegades and turned him into a TMNT character from a bunch of different versions!

If anyone wants to use this template I posted it here!

Lore dump beneath the cut!

Usual Appearance/TMNT-ified (my style)

This is Eight's usual appearance throughout Fallen Renegades! He's a young burmese cat who was accidentally given pyrotechnic abilities when he escaped the lab he grew up in. He can't entirely control these abilities, especially near the beginning of the series. He's helped out of the lab by a mutant wolf-bat hybrid, Okami, who then takes him under her wing (literally) and becomes a mother figure to him. His story wouldn't change much when TMNT-ified other than the fact that he would inevitably run into the turtles!

1987

If Eight were in the 1987 show, he would probably be a minor character who causes problems for one episode. He started off as a lab intern who got caught in a laboratory fire and turned into a cat mutant. This version of Eight doesn't have any fire powers, he's just a cat mutant that the turtles have to figure out how to un-mutate or something. He and Okami wouldn't interact in this version, though I'd like to think she'd appear at some point.

2003

Eight would be much more of a reoccurring character in 2003. He started out as an alley cat who happened to stumble across some ooze that the Purple Dragons were stealing for Baxter Stockman. He gets mutated and ends up on Stockman's radar, and much of his time in the series is spent fighting against Stockman -- who is convinced that dissecting Eight would give him clues on how the mutagen works and how to replicate it. He also claims ownership over Eight since he wouldn't have been mutated without Stockman's influence. When he's not running from Stockman, Eight tends to stick around the streets of New York, often fighting Purple Dragons. He meets Casey Jones before he meets any of the turtles and ends up taking after him, often carrying a baseball bat as a weapon. This version of Eight doesn't have any natural fire powers, but he's the biggest arson on this list; he always has some sort of lighter on him, and enjoys lighting stuff on fire just for the fun of it. Both Eight and Okami would be introduced separately in this version and make a few appearances on their own throughout season one before they meet at some point during season two. After they meet Okami ends up taking Eight in, and they appear together from then on.

Bayverse

Honestly I don't have a ton of lore for Bayverse. He and Okami were probably both created by Baxter Stockman the same way that Bebop and Rocksteady were. Okami broke them both out and they somehow got involved with the Turtles. I'm not entirely sure story-wise, but design-wise I thought it would be interesting for this version of Eight to lean into a very different Burmese cat pattern, adding to that more realistic and more different look. That was a lot of fun to mess with!

2012

2012 Eight was mutated by the Kraang in an experiment to add useful secondary mutations to their creations. Okami was another part of this experiment, and she and Eight ended up in neighboring containment cells. Okami's experiments focused more on the physical aspects of mutation while Eight's focused more on the internal, and when his pyrotechnic abilities kicked in it was extremely destructive. Okami was able to use the destruction to break them both out, and they were able to catch a portal to Earth. The two of them spend most of their time in the show in Kraang-related conflicts, often aiding the turtles when needed because Eight made friends with Mikey.

Rise

In Rise, Eight starts out as a little alley cat that follows around Okami, who is a world-renowned professional boxer. Okami is a human in this version and sees Eight as more of a pet until they are both bitten by oozequitoes and they become more of a mother-son duo. This version of Eight is a pre-teen who is ready to fight anything that moves. He's feisty, scrappy, and a bit of an annoyance until he starts to mature in season 2. Turns out Okami's actually a distant relative of Splinter's and actually has Hamato blood, and since her DNA was mixed with Eight's when he was mutated he ended up inheriting some of the Hamato ninpo, which grows stronger as he begins to interract with the turtles and other Hamatos. He goes through a stage of hearing the Hamato ghosts -- who are primarily confused and angered by this random, inhuman child tapping into their powers -- and his ninpo ends up taking form in uncontrollable, explosive flames. The turtles help him control it somewhat, but it's still an unstable and artificial form of the Hamato's gift.

Rise Movie (the future version that's not super clear on the template)

Okami is killed in the Krang takeover, and with her last breath she transfers her remaining ninpo over to Eight. This along with the pure necessity of their apocalyptic world help Eight to finally get his abilities under control, and he becomes one of the most powerful mystic warriors in the world -- behind Mikey, of course. He works alongside the turtles to fight with the Resistance. His name "Eight" comes from the legend that cats have nine lives, and after a close call during the initial takeover his friends jokingly start to call him Seven. He has another near-death moment a year or two later, and they go down to Six. This happens a few more times throughout the years, and by the time they get to Four everyone collectively decides to keep it there. The joke has started to get a little bit too close to reality, and no one likes the idea of counting down till a friend's death; he's called Four until he gives his life protecting the Resistance.

Mutant Mayhem

TCRI began working to recreate Stockman's mutagen as soon as they raided his lab. A few of their test subjects included a certain burmese kitten and wolf, which they deemed to be failures. However the tests they ran on Eight ended up sparking other abilities in him -- literally. It was in the midst of the lab fire that Eight sparked that more of TCRI's mutagen prototypes were spilt, and the heat of Eight's flames made them a bit more effective. Okami grabbed him and dragged him out of the lab, and in the process both animals got a second dousing of mutagen that was much more effective than the first. Okami ended up raising Eight and took on a very similar mindset to both Splinter and Superfly; everyone is evil, stay safe and hidden. Eight grew up with a very protective mother figure and some very dangerous powers, but he's still a spunky little guy who is really just excited to have some people to actually talk to when he meets the turtles.

This was so fun to make and I am HIGHLY considering drawing it out with Okami (especially since Okami WAS a TMNT character before Fallen Renegades became a thing) but this also took me like two weeks to draw so lol we'll see.

[thesandsofelsweyr]

HIS

《 READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

Jason has been beaten half to death with a crowbar, shredded by barbed wire, strung up for so long his shoulders ripped from their sockets, shocked, starved, branded… It's only a wooden paddle, it can’t hurt more than any of the Clown’s other toys… right?

《RATING》 🔞 Explicit 《WORDS》 10,111 《CHAPTERS》 4/4

《CHARACTERS》 Jason Todd/Robin, Joker, Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned), Tim Drake (mentioned)

《TROPES》 Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Whump, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

《WARNINGS》 Humiliation, Forced Nudity, Non-Consensual Spanking, Paddling, Genital Torture, Ownership, Master/Pet, Blood and Injury, Non-Consensual Touching, Scars

《SERIES》 Part 2 of My Arkhamverse, Part 2 of Ruined

《NOTES》

This fic is dark (and will get even darker in the following chapters) so be aware of the tags (especially the DD:DNE tag)

Dr. Haywood is NOT Jason’s mom / the character from “Death in the Family.” I just stole the name and profession for a briefly mentioned side character. I thought it would be an appropriate name for an Arkham doctor in Joker’s pocket who keeps Jason alive for more torture 😈

Kudos & comments on AO3, as well as reblogs here, are greatly appreciated 💛

《 READ ON AO3 》 (excerpt below the cut)

“JASON PETER TODD!”

The door of the forgotten storage room beneath Arkham Asylum slammed open with a kick, its wooden frame bulging and splintering from the force. Jason cringed away from the sudden burst of light pouring into the dark room, burying his battered face against one of the photos taped to the wall of his corner. Tears were already leaking from the corners of his blackened eyes, their saltiness stinging the raw ‘J’ seared into his cheek. He’d heard the wingtip shoes clicking down the hallway, the gleeful humming of a man who was about to partake in his favorite extracurricular activity; their foreboding duet growing louder and louder until they stopped at the door of his cell. He’d tried to prepare, to steel himself for the impending hurt, to be strong and fearless like he was trained to be, but he’d failed like always, his resolve crumbling to dust the moment that door swung open. He squeezed his stinging eyes shut, desperately wishing he could disappear into that darkness behind his eyelids and escape the terrible things that were about to happen to him.

His entire body shook while he waited. He gingerly tucked his broken ankle beneath his other leg in a futile attempt to protect it from a stomp or a kick. Then he listened… to the flick of a switch, to the fluorescent bulbs above him buzzing to life, to the footsteps approaching, closer and closer, until he could feel that evil red grin on his skin. Fear wrapped icy hands around his throat, and each shallow breath he took hammered against his sore, splintered ribs. Old instincts urged him to leap to his feet, race out that broken door and never look back, but he was too scared to move a muscle. In the early days he’d fight back—cursing the Clown, clawing at his eyes, spitting in his face, punching him in his crooked yellow teeth—but six-plus months of suffering had reduced him to a frightened child cowering in a corner, willing to do or say anything to spare himself from more pain. He knew that even a hint of defiance would only make his punishment worse so he slumped against the wall, letting his chin fall to his bloodstained armor—a show of submission. 

An agonizing second passed, then he inhaled a shuddering breath and forced himself to face the inevitable. He blinked at the black shoes and white spats standing before him while his tearful eyes adjusted to the light. The Clown was leering down at him he knew, drinking in every cut, bruise, and burn. Jason had to be careful to avoid those feverish green eyes until he was given permission. (Good boys kept their heads bowed and eyes lowered respectfully in the presence of their elders, if they didn’t want those eyes gouged out with a drill.) Not that it was hard to do. He’d rather stare at the sun than look the Clown in the eye. Please let today be a playtime instead of a punishment. Whatever it was, he just wanted it over with now so he could drag his broken body back into his corner and nurse his wounds while he waited for the next round of hell.

Joker crouched in front of him then grabbed his chin and lifted his head, forcing him to finally face those awful green eyes of his. Painted lips peeled back, baring even more yellow teeth, and Jason’s heart clenched as tight as a fist in his chest. This was the Clown’s favorite part of the hunt—the “foreplay,” as the creep liked to call it—where he savored his prey’s last few harrowing moments before the fun began. And Jason couldn’t help but play right into Joker’s hands, with his big doe-eyes pleading for mercy just this once. As if the Clown knew the meaning of the word.

Joker gave his branded cheek a couple of rough pats then straightened. “I’m very disappointed in you young man,” he said in an uncharacteristically stern tone, his grin twisting into an exaggerated frown. A new game, Jason realized with a stab of dread. “You know better than to try to escape Arkham without Uncle Joker’s permission.”

Jason shrank back, wishing he could melt into the wall behind him. Escape. The mere mention of the word reignited the pain from his last brutal beating and his battered body howled in response. The good doctor Haywood had offered to help him escape, and he’d been stupid enough to believe her. He’d limped towards freedom that night, counting each step to keep his mind off the excruciating pain in his ankle. Joker was there of course, waiting for them at the staircase up to his salvation, grinning like a hungry hyena. Jason had crumbled to the floor, prostrate at the Clown’s feet while Dr. Haywood lit up a cigarette and bitched about her pay-off. From quivering knees and elbows he’d begged Joker for forgiveness, but all Joker did was laugh. That laugh still clawed against the inside of his skull like nails on a chalkboard.

He thought he’d already been punished for that shitshow—by the brand on his cheek, by the beating that followed, the beating that left him with a collapsed lung and on death’s door (If only he’d been so lucky. Good thing Dr. Haywood was there to save him for more torture.)—but he knew better than to question such things. “I’m sorry sir,” he answered in a tiny voice choked with tears. He felt a pang of genuine shame for his attempted betrayal of Joker… and for his actual betrayal of Bruce… I’m so sorry Bruce.

His eyes started to fall to the floor when Joker pulled a hidden object from behind his back, and Jason had to stifle a whimper of relief. It wasn’t the crowbar he expected—the weapon that had smashed his ribcage, shattered his ankle, split open his skull, and bludgeoned his bones. Instead it was a heavy wooden paddle with three rows of holes drilled through it. A fraternity paddle maybe? No, more like the paddle they used to beat kids with in schools. Bad kids like him. He swallowed hard.

Joker smacked his gloved palm with the flat of the paddle. “You’re gonna be sorry once I’m through with you,” he scolded like an angry dad about to beat the shit out of his kid. “I’m gonna give that naughty backside of yours such a severe spanking you won’t be able to sit down for a month! Now stand up—” he motioned with the paddle. “—and get those tights down this instant!”

Jason obeyed without hesitation, crawling over to one of the old desks that shared his storage room cell with him and using it to pull his trembling body up off the floor. Joker’s theatrics were nothing out of the ordinary. Jason was well-acquainted with these twisted little games he liked to play, and with the consequences if he didn’t give the Clown a good laugh.

Read the rest on AO3→

[quickdricarpetandtile]

What is the Best Product to Get Rid of Pet Urine?

As a pet owner, dealing with pet urine is something I've become quite familiar with. It's one of those less glamorous aspects of having a furry friend. Whether it's a new puppy still learning the ropes or an older pet with occasional accidents, finding an effective product to remove pet urine is crucial. Over the years, I've tried several solutions, and here, I'll share what works best based on my personal experience.

Understanding the Problem

Before diving into the best products, it's important to understand why pet urine is so problematic. Pet urine can penetrate deep into carpets, upholstery, and even hard floors, leaving behind not just a stain but also a lingering odor. The ammonia in urine can also cause long-term damage if not properly treated. Therefore, an effective pet urine remover needs to tackle both the stain and the odor at their source.

Key Ingredients to Look For

When choosing a pet urine removal product, there are a few key ingredients you should look for:

Enzymatic Cleaners: These are a game-changer. Enzymatic cleaners break down the proteins in urine, which helps eliminate the odor and stain completely.

Bacteria-Based Cleaners: These products contain live bacteria that consume the urine, leaving your surfaces clean and odor-free.

Oxygen-Based Cleaners: These use the power of oxygen to lift stains and neutralize odors.

Top Products to Consider

After testing various products, I've narrowed down my top three recommendations:

Rocco & Roxie Professional Strength Stain & Odor Eliminator

This enzymatic cleaner works wonders. It tackles tough stains and completely removes odors, making it a favorite among pet owners.

Nature's Miracle Advanced Stain and Odor Eliminator

Known for its powerful formula, this product uses both enzymatic and oxygen-based cleaning agents. It's highly effective on old and new stains alike.

Bubba's Super Strength Commercial Enzyme Cleaner

Designed for commercial use, Bubba's cleaner is incredibly potent. It's perfect for homes with multiple pets and severe urine issues.

Using the Products Effectively

It's not just about choosing the right product; using it correctly is equally important. Here are some tips from my own experience:

Act Quickly: The sooner you can treat the urine stain, the better. Fresh stains are much easier to remove.

Blot, Don't Rub: Always blot the urine with a clean cloth to absorb as much as possible. Rubbing can spread the stain and push it deeper into the fibers.

Follow Instructions: Each product has specific instructions for the best results. Make sure to follow them carefully.

Dealing with Persistent Odors

Sometimes, even the best products need a little help. If you still notice lingering odors, consider using a blacklight to find hidden urine stains. Additionally, regular deep cleaning can help maintain a fresh-smelling home.

My Personal Recommendation

For those in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, I highly recommend Quick Dri Carpet and Tile Cleaning. Their professional services go beyond what DIY products can achieve, especially for tough pet urine stains. You can learn more about their services on their website. They also offer specialized Pet Urine Removal services, which have been a lifesaver for me.

Final Word

In conclusion, dealing with pet urine is an inevitable part of pet ownership, but it doesn't have to be a constant headache. With the right products and techniques, you can keep your home clean and odor-free. Remember to act quickly, use effective products, and consider professional cleaning services for the best results. Your pets are worth the effort, and so is your clean home!

Quick Dri Carpet and Tile Cleaning

Address: 1502 Wood St, Dallas, TX 75202 United States

Website: https://quickdricarpetandtile.com/

Phone: (469) 573-3330

Map URL: https://maps.app.goo.gl/tkPifaY5VYWYfx226

[dflogerzi]

Biden is in support of the UN and the published 2030 agenda. Everything else that has developed is under that umbrella. It is not being hidden. The Democrat party is no longer what it once was, and neither is the Republican. And most of the leaders are not being honest with their own party's citizens. I am no longer in any political party, and I do not watch MSM. It is not even because of propaganda or bias... but because of what is omissions of pertinent events and what is being withheld from the American public and the world.

I hate varying off from what I am here for. I came here because Meghan was getting on my nerves the first so called pregnancy. I stay for the finish of that mess.... and I stay for friends and the romps I truly cherish. This is the only social media I use.

I have not been a huge fan of Abbott, but he must be seeing the inevitable and feeling a true brunt of the flood of people not entering this country legally. That is the way I am going to put it as graceful as possible. I am from California and saw first-hand what it has been doing to the state. But what this governor is doing right now is heroic. It is just my opinion, and it is time for everyone to open their eyes. This is not about one party or another... In Washington presently from what I have been seeing they almost all have the same goals and agenda. And we are just the sheep they are working towards directing up the slanted boards. And the "they" are the same bird with two wings.

We were created a Republic for a reason. And we are losing our rights. For me... I had such a wonderful life. Not always, had my share of lessons and loved ones lost. But my worry is not so much for myself. It is for those who come behind us. When the WEF tells you they do not want private ownership of homes, cars, gas stoves, even our pets... believe them. And that is just part of their plan.

May the angels protect all who drive this week to attempt change on our borders. For everyone's sake. For those coming to this country without the legalities too... the real stories are not pretty for them. And they are being used.

Wonder if I will post this? I usually delete these types of rants.

Love to all. x

[sarahs-secrets2]

Leaving with Somebody Else (Phillip Graves x Reader) 18+ ࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

A little bit of a theme here with t1975 songs and Graves haha, hope yall enjoy! I opened up my requests tab if anyone wants any Phillip X Reader drabbles :) I'm going to start posting more Phillip bits more frequently so feel free to follow to stay updated! <3

(P.S. This is a separate work from my other fic, check out my masterlist for the Sex-t1975 x Phillip Graves fic, part 2 will be out sometime this week!)

Loosely based on Somebody Else by t1975

gn! mentions of boyfriend, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Tad OOC, ANGST, swearing, alcohol, mentions of hookups, pet names, some NSFW

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

Arms linked walking into a dive bar, you looked around the room taking in the smell of shitty alcohol, looking at the handsome man standing next to you as you both smiled at each other. Unbeknownst to either of you, a somewhat of a bitter ex sat at the bar watching the encounter. 

Phillip Graves threw back his bourbon motioning at the bartender for another one, it was his 3rd already, maybe the 4th, he didn't bother to count. He watched as you dragged your newest “toy” across the bar to a booth, where you both sat on the same side, something he introduced to you. 

“Phillip no way in hell are we sitting on the same side of this booth c’mon”, you laughed as you tried to push him out of the seat. Graves looked at you with a smirk, “Darling, you're gonna have to try harder to get me away from you”.

The memory was haunting, it made him sick. He had heard around the barracks you were with someone new, he didn't care to hear the rest though. It was easier for him to erase you from his memory than indulge in the what-ifs. 

Phillip and you had called it quits officially a year ago, the following 5 months consisted of late-night hookups trying to convince each other that maybe you could fix it. 

“I can't keep doing this at 4am Phil”, you were sorting through your clothes and getting dressed after crawling back to your ex, despite telling yourself that last time was the last time. 

“I don’t see the issue doll, I think we work perfectly together, c’mon let’s try it again, we’ll be better”. Despite wanting to believe him, you knew the spark was gone, and the hookups just prevented the inevitable of not seeing each other again. Phillip would never admit that the love had gone cold, it had to be you. 

Finally dressed, you walked over to Graves, who was standing by the bed. His hair tousled, with his blue eyes piercing through you. Small tears started to roll down your face as you reached a hand up to cup Phillip’s face, he knew what was coming. 

“Thank you”, is all you said as you placed a small kiss on his cheek and headed out his door for the last time.

After that night Phillip always tried to tell himself that you would come back, just like last time. Now back in the bar, he saw you with somebody else, confirming the swirl of rumors he once tried so desperately to ignore. 

Phillip knew and had come to accept that there was no love there anymore, and he told himself he had gotten over you but seeing you with somebody else made his heart pound. Thinking about you and your new boyfriend doing the things you and he used to do. The weird ownership he felt over you as if you weren't allowed to be sitting with somebody else.

Sitting in the booth with your new beau, you could feel eyes on you. Glancing up, you saw Phillip Graves sitting casually at the bar with his classic bourbon. He was probably meeting some new girl, you thought to yourself. Graves was always the most attractive man in the room, there was no doubt about that, seeing him again confirmed that. 

Your mind wandered, did he move on to? It was a tad hypocritical to feel upset that he may be waiting for somebody else as you were quite literally there with a new guy, the feeling of jealousy still plagued your mind.

“You alright babe?” the voice next to you pulling you back to reality. 

“Yeah, a bit lost in thought”, your hand grazing the bicep of the man, “ Mind getting me a drink?” 

He smiled and nodded as he stood up kissing your forehead, “I’ll get your usual”.

Graves watched the whole encounter, feeling as if he was transparent, did you see him sitting 5 feet away from you? Did you care? His empty glass clinked on the wooden bartop, this time the bartender was ready with the next one. Phillip’s eyebrows raised as a silent thank you to the man behind the bar.

“Is that any good, I can’t decide what to get,” Graves' head whipped around, was this real? The man you walked in with, now talking to him. He must've not known the history, Graves told himself, no way he would be talking to your ex if he knew otherwise. 

“It’s s’alright, gets the job done ya know”, Graves tipped the drink toward the source of his jealousy. 

“That's convinced me enough, thanks dude”, the man's hand patted Graves' shoulder as he ordered a bourbon and some drink Graves had not heard of. It hadn’t been that long and Phillip felt as if you were a stranger to him. 

Too distracted with your phone to notice the interaction being had with your current and past lovers, only looking up once you heard the glassware of the drink hit the table. “Bourbon? You hate bourbon”, confusingly looking at the stout glass your boyfriend held as he took a small sip. “The guy at the bar recommended it, it's not horrible”

“The guy as in the bartender?”

“No the dude on the stool with the blue button up”, you didn't even have to look over to figure out he was talking about Phillip, was this some tactic to get under your skin? Downing the rest of your drink, you looked up at your boyfriend in front of you. 

“Forget the bourbon, let's go home”, at this point you figured Phillip was trying to get your attention, thinking you would run back to him. Tugging at the collar of your boyfriend's shirt you pulled him in for a slow kiss, knowing Graves who was sitting 5 feet away was watching. 

Phillip finished his drink with the bartender now signaling him he had been cut off by handing him the tab that had been racked up over the night. His eyes now glued to the pair in the booth with his stomach churning, the kiss made him want to throw up. That was him at one point, and now you're intertwining your soul with somebody else. 

Graves' eyes followed you, as your boyfriend led you out of the bar as you happily trailed behind. 

You were leaving with somebody else as he sat at the bar with his empty glass and hefty tab. 

Phillip forced the down idea of the two of you together as he threw down some cash and picked up his jacket to leave the shitty bar. Skimming through his contacts and finally landing on your name, Graves deleted the contact, and the memory attached to it. It was time to get over it and find somebody else.

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

This made me sad writing this omfg

[whitehotharlots]

CRT and the sad state of educational politics

If our culture is studied 100 years from now, the predominant theme of the research will be a sense of perplexed revulsion toward how we did nothing to address the climate crisis in spite of having decades of forewarning. If there is a second theme, it will be a profound confusion regarding our immense and unearned sense of self-certainty. A retrospective of the early twenty first century would be titled something like Who the Fuck Did These People Think They Were? 

The latter theme is illustrated in the debacle surrounding a recent slew of municipal and statewide bills that seek to ban the teaching of Critical Race Theory (CRT) in public schools. For the record, I am strongly against these bans. But I’m also self-aware enough to know my opinion matters very little, and therefore realize that an analysis of the discussion surrounding the bills will yield much more worthwhile observations than a simple delimitation of their pros and cons. Regardless of your personal opinion, I hope you’ll humor me.

I am, in some regards, a moral absolutist. But I also realize that abstract morality has very little bearing on material and political realities. In my ideal world, classrooms are free from political meddling. Teachers teach to the best of their ability, presenting students with truths that are confidently unvarnished due to the thorough amount of work that was required to reach them. I don’t cotton any of that socratic bullshit. Students are there to learn, not to engage in weird Gotchas with some perverted elder. The teacher’s job is to teach. The material they teach needs to be subjected to some graspable and standardized mechanism of truth adjudication before it is worthy of being taught. Teaching is not therapy. Teaching is not poetry. Teaching is not love, nor is it religion, nor is it a means of social or political indoctrination. There are plenty of other avenues available to accomplish all of those other things. Teaching is teaching. 

That’s the ideal. But ideals are just ideals. They never come true. The art of teaching, regardless of setting--from overpacked classrooms to face-to-face instruction to curricular design to nationwide pedagogical initiatives--boils down to a teacher’s ability to reconcile the need to convey truths with social and political pressures that are heavily invested in the suppression of truth. 

I have formally studied and practiced education for nearly two decades. In that time, the prevailing political thrust toward education has been a desire to casualize the practice of teaching, to render educators as cheap and fungible as iphones. The thrust takes different shapes depending on the political affiliation of whomever happens to be in charge of the state and federal governments that fund education, but the ultimate desire is always the same. The goal is always to attempt to make teaching rote and algorithmic, something akin to running a google search for How to do math? or What is morality?. The framing is always just windowdressing, empty culture war bullshit. 

Maybe it’s the inescapability of this thrust that’s rendered so many educators so blind to it? We only have nominal political choice, after all. The discourse gets more blinkered and vicious as the stakes decrease. At any rate, this is the undeniable reality, and anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth listening to. 

Non-administrative per-pupil spending as been on a steady decline since George W. Bush was president. Administrative bloat and meddling are becoming as common in k-12 as they are in higher education. The will of parasitic NGOs are implemented as common sense pedagogy without anyone even bothering to ask for any proof that they work. The so-called Education Reform movement is sputtering out due both to its manifest failures and rare, bipartisan backlash. But it will be replaced with something just as idiotic and pernicious. The thrust of causalization will not abate. 

And so what do we decide to do? What’s the next big thing on the education policy horizon? Critical Race Theory. 

Okay, this makes sense. In 2021, a local paper can’t run a news story about a lost cat without explicitly mentioning the race of every human involved and possibly also nodding toward the implied cisnormativity of pet ownership. So it makes sense that this broad rhetorical mandate would come to dominate the transitional period between Bush-Obama Education Reform and whatever bleak future awaits us. The controversy is so perfectly inefficacious that its adoption was inevitable. Because, seriously, it doesn’t matter. Regardless of the outcome of this kerfuffle, no problems will be solved. The real shortcomings of public education will not be addressed. Larger social problems that are typically blamed on public education in spite of having little to do with public education will especially not be addressed. Maybe white kids will have to do struggle sessions in lieu of the Pledge of Allegiance. Maybe black kids will get full credit for drawing the Slayer logo in the part of the test where their geometric proof is supposed to go. Or maybe it won’t happen. Maybe instead these practices will be banned, and in turn liberals will begin to embrace homeschooling, the charter movement will be given new life as a refuge against the terrors of white supremacist behaviors such as, uhh, teaching kids to show their work. Whatever.

Within the context of public education, the outcome will not matter. It cannot matter. There will be broader social impacts, sure. It will continue to drive Democrats more rightward, providing their party’s newly woke corporate wing with progressive-sounding rationales for austerity. But so far as teachers and students are concerned, it won’t matter.

Why do I give a shit about this, then? To put it bluntly, I’m struck by the utter fucking inartfulness of CRT’s proponents. At no point has any advocate of CRT presented a case for their approach to education that was at all concerned with persuading people who aren’t already 100% in their camp. There’s been no demonstration of positive impacts, or even an explanation of how the impacts could hypothetically be positive. In fact, so much as asking for such a rationale is considered proof of racism. Advocates posit an image of existing educational policies that is absolutely fantastical, suggesting that kids never learn about slavery or racism or civil rights. But then... then they don’t even stick with the kayfabe. They’ll say ��kids never learn about racism.” In response, people--mostly well-meaning--say “wait, umm, I’m pretty sure they do learn about racism.” The response is “we never said they don’t learn about racism.” You’ll see this shift from one paragraph to the next. It’s insane. Absolutely insane. 

Or take this talk from a pro-CRT workshop in Oregon. The speaker freely admits that proto-CRT leanings like anti-bias education, multiculturalism, and centering race in historical discussions have been the norm since the late 1980s. The speaker admits that these practices have been commonplace for 30+ years, as anyone my age or younger will attest. Then, seconds later, the speaker discusses the results of this shift: it failed. Unequivocally:

We had this huge, huge, huge focus on culturally relevant teaching and research. [ ... ] So you would think that with 40+ years of research and really focusing and a lot of lip service and a lot of policies and, you know, a lot of rhetoric about cultural relevancy and about equity and about anti-bias that we would see trends that are significantly different, [but] that’s not what we’re finding. What we’re finding that you see [is] that some cases, particularly black and brown [students] the results, the academic achievement has either stayed the same and gotten worse.

Translation: here’s this approach to teaching. It’s new and vital but also we’ve been doing it for 40 years. It doesn’t work. But we need to keep doing it. Anyone who is in any way confused by this is a dangerous racist. 

Even in the darkest days of the Bush-era culture war, I never saw such a complete and open disregard for honesty. This isn’t to say that Bush-era conservatives weren’t shit-eating liars. They were. But they had enough savvy to realize that self-righteousness alone is not an effective way of doing politics. You need to at least pretend to be engaging with issues in good faith. 

This is what happens when a movement has its head so far up its own ass that it cannot comprehend the notion of good-faith criticism. These people do not believe that there can exist anyone who shares their basic goals but has concerns that their methods might not work. Their self-certainty is so absolute and unshakeable that they can proffer data demonstrating the complete ineffectiveness of their methods as proof of the necessity of their methods.

For decades, the most effective inoculation against pernicious meddling in education has been to lean upon the ideal form of teaching I described earlier in this post. We claimed that teaching is apolitical and that no one is trying to indoctrinate anybody. Regardless of the abstract impossibility of this claim, it has immense and lasting appeal, and it was upheld by a system of pedagogical standards that allowed teachers to evoke a sense of neutrality. The prevailing thrust in liberal education is to explicitly reject any such notions, and no one--not a single goddamn person--has proffered a convincing replacement for it. We still say, laughably, that we’re eschewing indoctrination. But people aren’t that stupid. If you find it beneath yourself to make your lies digestible, people will be able to tell when you’re lying to them. 

This, my friends, bodes very poorly for the future of education, regardless of whatever happens in the coming months. A movement that cannot articulate its own worth is not one that is long for this world. Teachers themselves are the only force that can resit the slow press toward the eventual elimination of public education, and they have embraced a worldview and comportment style that renders them absolutely unable to mount any worthwhile resistance. 

[queerrider]

most people can't afford to take care of their old horse, potentially with growing medical bills, & buy/lease a new horse so they can continue riding. i don't think it's fair to expect people to give up their passion, or even career, in order to keep their old or lame horse. i don't feel like the dog comparison is apt either, because most people buy dogs as pets. a horse isn't just a pet, it also does a job. if a herding dog is too old to run and herd sheep, it would also need to be replaced 1/2

No offense but this is exactly what I'm talking about. If you can't afford to retire your horse then you shouldn't have gotten the horse.

I have seen this point of view. It used to be my point of view. In fact, I started my low-cost retirement barn precisely because of this point of view, to make retirement more accessible.

But it's irresponsible. If you can't retire your horse, don't buy one. Lease. Retirement is part of ownership. It's not optional.

Again, there are situations where something unpredictable might happen out of the owner's control. But that's not what we're talking about. Most abandoned horses I've seen were abandoned because the owner just hadn't prepared for retirement. Not because of some unexpected financial issue, but because they had NEVER been prepared.

I get that it sucks to not be able to own a horse. But to commit to a horse with the knowledge that you'll abandon them as soon as they can't work is cruel and unacceptable. It isn't fair to the horse. Lease a horse if you can't retire.

When you buy a horse, you KNOW that there will come a time when you have to retire him. You KNOW that you'll need to buy/lease a new one. That's NOT UNEXPECTED. It's PART OF THE PACKAGE. IF YOU CAN'T AFFORD THAT THEN DON'T SIGN UP.

And yeah, SAME GOES FOR THE DOG TOO HOLY SHIT. I say this as someone who WORKS IN AGRICULTURE. Retiring your herding dog is PART OF THE EXPENSES OF HAVING ONE. You plan for it. It goes into the planned expenses. Have a fucking plan or don't get the animal.

I don't mean to be hostile I just hate the idea that this is just an inevitable cost of horse riding. It's not. We made these choices and WE DID THIS as horse owners. I know these people love their horses. But I also know that if we all saw retirement as something that all horse owners MUST prepare for, then fewer unprepared people would buy horses. it's not inevitable. It's our poor planning that does this.

Horses aren't disposable.

[wybielune]

Somewhat Witchy, spirity post!

*

I just saw that Barack Obama's dog Bo, passed away earlier today.

I didn't want to write anything on the tweet he sent out about it, because there were already hundreds of comments, and I didn't think he needed another person doing and writing the same thing as the hundreds of others.

Stick around, especially people who have lost pets. Read to the bottom, its important!

Losing a pet is a horrible, but inevitable part of pet ownership. We love them so completely that when they leave, its like part of ourselves have left with them, and like millions of others, I too have experienced this, so I would like to take this moment to say a couple of things.

Dont think if you want another pet straight away that its the wrong thing to do. If you feel ready for another pet, get one! You aren't replacing your friend, because you can't!

What you ARE doing is bringing another little life into your home that needs you, and that you can give your love to. This is an entirely different soul from the one that just crossed the Rainbow Bridge, and focusing on caring for this little one might help you get through the coming weeks a little easier.

It doesn't make the pain of missing them stop or go away, but if you feel ready for a new pet, it can make the pain a little easier to bear.

I lost my first pet, a Golden Retriever called Sally, when I was perhaps 10. My parents were so distraught, not wanting to replace her that we didn't go get another pet. It wasn't until many, many years later that Tiger, a grumpy, old man cat who had been abandoned by one of my neighbours, waddled into our home and adopted us.

It was maybe 2013 that he passed away. A brain tumor had progressed too far and he needed to be euthanized and just as before, my parents were distraught. However, we learned during our time with Tiger that we were a family that was supposed to have an animal companion, that we had waited too long after Sally to bring another little friend into the family, and so, 2 months later, my parents went and bought Poppy. A black Cocker Spaniel with a white blaze.

It didn't make the loss of Tiger hurt any less, but I did find in caring for the little monster that is Poppy, that I didn't have the time to sit and wallow in our family's loss, and in the time I took looking after her, walking her, playing with her, making sure she wasn't eating something that wasn't food, 'again,' I developed such an incredible bond with her.

I still love Tiger, but now I can look back on him fondly, because Poppy was there to distract me and need me and love me when I need that from a small, fluffy friend, and I know, one day, the same will happen again, and I will lose her as I've lost Sally and Tiger, but, then there will be space in my heart to love a new little friend who in turn needs to be loved, and with their support, I'll eventually stop hurting, and be able to look back fondly on her too.

Don't think a new pet is just a replacement for the old one. Your old friend was so special, there's no way they could be replaced. HOWEVER-

Don't go rushing into getting a new pet straight away if you are not ready.

Some people do need time for that wound to heal a little before they can go and rub fur into it. Some people might want to fill the space with a new pet, but the pain is still too raw, and if you aren't ready for a new pet, it will hurt you because of the reminders and it will hurt them, because you are rejecting them, and they don't know why, but if you feel ready, that your heart needs a new friend, go ahead.

If your Rainbow Baby knew you were lonely, do you think they would want you to stay that way?

All in all, be smart. Be responsible. Really think about your decision, you'll know what to do. If a small part of you says you might not be ready, then don't pressurise yourself. You'll be ready in time.

[yodawgiherd]

Collared

Rating: E

>>>Read on AO3<<<

After a lengthy discussion with me, myself and I, the council have decided to cut this chapter into two parts, one covering the foreplay and the other doing the dirty. This was done mostly to prevent the chapter from being too long and also other reasons. This is the foreplay one. I believe that there is still more than enough dom!Mikasa to be found here, but explicitly explicit happenings will be done in the next chapter. The last part was strongly inspired by the "step on me" meme. I blame certain people.

Enjoy!

For Eren to wake up alone on a Saturday morning felt weird, eyes slowly opening to the sunlight. Mikasa wasn’t an early bird if she got the choice, so for her to just leave the warm bed on her own was unusual. With a groan, he rolled off himself, standing up in dire need of some coffee. Down the stairs to the machine, Eren pressed the right button and turned around with the sigh, facing the place where he knew his fiancé would be.

On the pole, doing a nearly flawless flag pose, her body in a perfect 90-degree angle to the pole itself. He sighed, again, rubbing his forehead. This really shouldn’t be physically possible. Mikasa had a look of concentration on her face, which was sweaty, a clue suggesting that she’s been going at it for some time by now. As she was also wearing her sleeping clothes, which meant formerly Eren’s shirt and panties, she probably went to the pole first thing in the morning. Why yes, his girlfriend was indeed quite a gym enthusiast, how could you tell?

The machine beeped behind Eren, signaling that his drink was ready, and also unintentionally breaking Mikasa out of her focus. Snapping into reality, she quickly located her boyfriend, the concentration melting into a huge grin. Sliding down the pole, she padded over to him on her bare feet, standing on her tippy toes so she could kiss him without Eren bowing down to her height. The kiss was a bit salty, considering the sweat and all, but overall pleasurable as always.

“Oh, you made me a coffee?”, brushing past him before he could say it was in fact supposed to be his drink, Mikasa claimed the cup, taking a sip, “You’re so considerate baby.”

Not only a fry thief but a coffee taker as well. Why was he dating her again? Making himself another one, he leaned on the counter, popping the morning stiffness from his neck.

“You know what day it is, right?”, came her voice.

“Saturday?”, he guessed, not opening his eyes.

“That’s right. Which means…”

“Means that I’m yours to command.”, opening his eyes, he smirked at her, “Anything you wish of me, mistress? You already stole my coffee so I’m not sure what else I could give.”

“Good to see that you’re so eager puppy, but I’m fine. For now.”, the tip of her tongue appeared, licking her bottom lip as she watched him over the rip of the cup, “I do have plans tho, big plans…”

“Such as?”

“First, we take a bath, then we go to the city.”

That made him arch an eyebrow.

“You wanna go out?”

“Correct.”

Knowing that today was Mikasa’s dom day, Eren wasn’t sure why would she ever want to leave the house, but he didn’t need to question it. She was in charge, which meant that all he had to do was follow orders and turn his brain off, and he was more than fine with doing that. Shrugging, he took another sip of his coffee, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

In the bath, Mikasa washed away the sweat from the workout, and after that spent a long time thoroughly cleaning Eren. She made him stand still as a statue while she shaved every hair from his body, including those few that managed to appear between his legs. Mikasa even took the cage off for the treatment, leaving only the cockring on, very thorough in her efforts. The razor whispered as it slid over Eren’s skin making him shiver a little. Her hand was steady, but those little looks she threw his way made Eren worry, just a little bit. She wouldn’t hurt him. Would she? No, of course not. Unless?

She didn’t.

After that, Mikasa washed Eren’s hair, humming a happy melody to herself. It felt good, being cared for like this, but Eren had the feeling as if he was a prize stallion, being groomed by his owner to be shown off. From how much attention she paid to his crotch area, both front and back, Mikasa was likely simply shining her toys before the evening would come.

“It’s been some time since I played with your ass, isn’t it?”, she said, hand rubbing the upper part of Eren’s thigh. Not really waiting for an answer, she went on.

“It’s a very nice ass, don’t get me wrong, I quite like it.”

She was the one to talk, with how flawless her butt was, but Eren had no problems accepting a compliment.

“Thank you, mistress.”

“Hmmm…”, done, Mikasa gave his ass a light smack, standing up from the water.

“Wait here,”, she said, “I have a gift for you.”

Remaining where he was, Eren simply watched her climb out of the tub. It gave him a prime view of her own ass, with the water running down the pretty shape, so he wouldn’t say that he minded too much. Retrieving something small from one of the drawers, Mikasa walked back, slipping back into the tub.

“Here,”, she said, holding it up “Like it?”

It was a ring. Big ring. Too big to fit on his finger. Which meant…

Of course.

“Hold it for a moment,”, Mikasa didn’t really care about his opinion, it looked like, as she handed him the ring and kneeled before him, hands going right between Eren’s legs. While she worked on removing the old ring, still in place, he took a moment to inspect the new one, looking for differences. The most striking was the color, as this new one was gold, not silver. Next, there was something on the surface, which upon closer inspection became an etching, words to be exact.

“Mikasa’s Pet,” it said.

Right.

“It’s great, isn’t it?”, taking the ring from his hand, Mikasa quickly put it in place, her movements already practiced by how many times she used such devices on Eren, “Now everyone will know that your cock is mine.”

“I…Uh... I don’t really take off my pants in public.”, Eren countered, feeling the familiar tightness return after being freed from it for a few seconds.

“It doesn’t matter,”, she went on, “It’s the thought that counts.”

Reaching down to retrieve the cage, she snapped it on top, once again returning her puppy to chastity.

“And I made sure that it's compatible with the cage. I’m so generous.”

“Incredibly so…”

“Look,”, Mikasa extended her hand, showing him her engagement ring, “Now we match!”

Her ring was a simple golden circle, Eren knew that she didn’t like stones that much and acted accordingly when he was picking it out for her. It didn’t have any ownership claim engraved on it either, as that thing between his legs did, but other than that, it looked similar. Now anyone could see that he was owned by his fiancé, how romantic.

“I have one more gift for my puppy, come on.”

With that, she left the bathroom, leaving Eren to stare after her. If her first gift was a new cockring, what in seven hells would the other one be? Carefully climbing out of the water too, mindful of the cage, he followed her, ideas spinning.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, yes you will.”

“Mikasa I…”

“Puppy…”, her voice was low, sexy and threatening at the same time, “Your opinion does not really matter today, right?”

Sexy because Mikasa wearing nothing but lacy black lingerie was a damn sight to behold, dangerous because the way she looked at him made Eren shiver. Even in a strapless bra and panties that made Eren drool a little bit, Mikasa managed to look like a full-time dominatrix. It was written in her face, her posture, the confidence in which she held the collar. With an expression that didn’t allow any discussion anymore, she held up the second gift in her hand.

“You will put this on your neck, you will wear it when we go out, and after we get home..”, her lips curved upwards into a sadistic smile, “I’ll punish you for talking back.”

Not that long ago, Eren had that great idea to make a personal collar for Mikasa, have it fitted specifically for her neck and have her name put on it in huge silver letters. The second gift turned out to be nothing but a very similar collar, the only difference being that it was made for him. And it was a good gift, Eren liked it, but the problem was Mikasa’s request that went right along with the gift. She wanted him to put it on, now and wear it when they go out, have it on in public. Having written that he’s Mikasa’s pet around his cock was fine, none could normally see that, but having it around his neck in the form of a dog collar, with his mistress right next to him was a step Eren wasn’t sure he was willing to take. But from how things looked, it would come down to what Mikasa wanted, not him. As usual.

“You should be glad that I’m not making you get a tattoo of my name,”, she continued, voice dripping poison, “Now, stop resisting and…”

Mikasa held up the collar in one hand, pointing at the ground with the other.

“On. Your. Knees.”

Eren’s legs buckled beneath him before he could consciously react, and suddenly he was staring upwards to see Mikasa’s face. Oh, she liked that, seeing how her smile turned from dangerous to genuinely happy one, she liked seeing him submit to her. She took a step forward, putting the collar around Eren’s neck. It was a perfect fit, of course. Once he was collared, Mikasa ran a single finger up and down the side of Eren’s face, smirking.

“You don’t have to worry, puppy, I have it all thought out. But first…”, turning around, she walked to the wardrobe, throwing the doors open, “I’ll pick some nice clothes for you. Be a good boy and sit on the bed, yes?”

Defeated, betrayed by his own body, Eren slumped down as ordered, waiting how his mistress will humiliate him further. Which… didn’t happen? Mikasa didn’t pick anything weird for him, to match that collar, instead, he was given a normal dark suit, she even allowed him to wear a tie to partly cover the leather hugging his neck. Dressing quickly, before she changes her mind, Eren was soon left with nothing to do but wait, so leaning back on the bed, he engaged in one of his favorite activities. Watching Mikasa dress. If he was asked, he’d probably say that he liked watching her undress more, but even this had a certain ring of intimacy to it. Enjoyable.

On her part, Mikasa wasn’t rushing anywhere. While Eren managed to put on all his stuff, Mikasa just fastened a garter belt around her hips and was now pulling up her fishnet stockings. She knew that he was watching, moving slowly, giving Eren a little show. It wasn’t really a secret that he had a thing for Mikasa’s legs, and the goth was apparently feeling generous. Dragging the material over her leg, Mikasa took her time with hooking the top to the garter belt, winking at Eren over her shoulder. With her stockings on, she turned towards the mirror, readying her makeup. The sheer amount of eyeliner she decided to put on gave Eren a little pause, It was more than usual, but he wouldn’t protest. The dark shades she created nicely highlighted the exotic shape of Mikasa’s eyes. Moving on, she painted her lips black to match. As Eren could see through the fishnets, her toenails were already black, and now she painted the nails on her fingers too, completing the usual makeup routine.

It would be fair to say that Mikasa was never big on make-up, most of the time she didn’t wear any, because why would you ever bother with painting yourself before a workout, are you nuts? But when she did put it on she had a very good hand, most likely gained from watching the professional makeup artists work on her during the photoshoots at the studio. When Mikasa put in the time to brush up her makeup skills, it signified something, a night out, a dinner, a special occasion where she wanted to look her best at, and today certainly fit those requirements, having her puppy to play with without any restrictions was a treat. Eren saw her go through the same movements for what felt like a hundred times but still wouldn’t get bored of it. There was something hypnotizing about the way Mikasa did her short beauty treatment.

Makeup done, black lacy lingerie on, stockings fastened to the garter belt, she stood up, moving over to the wardrobe again, this time in search of her own clothes. Hands moving through her collection, which grew substantially since she started working as a model, Mikasa had a certain dress in mind for her plan. There it was. Black, obviously, tight around her body with a see-through section at the neck, at the sleeves, and seamlessly changing into a nicely flowing skirt at the bottom, ending in the upper part of her thighs. Putting it on herself, Mikasa was nicely surprised when Eren zipped it up for her without the need to order him, his good boyfriend instincts taking over.

“Good boy.”, a little praise falling from her lips, making him smile.

Dress in place, Mikasa moved on the jewelry. Rings, one for each finger, choosing from the big collection that she had nowadays, most of them gifts from her fiancé. Classic cross earrings and a leather choker that was nearly as thick as the collar around Eren’s throat. Necklaces, not missing the chain with the key to Eren’s chastity cage and the silver crucifix Levi gave her, all those years back. Probably her favorite jewelry alongside the earrings. Basically done, all she was missing were her boots, and when Eren watched her pick those massive leather ones with thick soles and many buckles that went all the way to Mikasa’s knees, her strategy finally clicked for him. In this outfit, Mikasa was the archetype of goth gf, as if she literally just stepped out of someone’s wild dream. That normally wouldn’t be that unusual, as she was stubbornly loyal to being goth all the way from high school to this day, not caring in the slightest that the style moved from being cool to being just kinda weird. She liked it, and that’s what mattered. But while Mikasa enjoyed dressing like this, she usually toned it down, because she simply didn’t want to draw attention. Not tonight, however, tonight she was going all out. With this beautiful and strange visage next to him, who would ever pay attention to Eren? Who would ever notice little thing like a collar around his neck when Mikasa was shining like a dark sun, drawing everyone’s eyes to herself?

“Well, puppy,”, she began, standing up from the chair and turning towards her smitten fiancé, “Ready to go?”

Seeing Mikasa bring out the goth inside her like this, full-on out, how comfortable and smug she was in this handpicked outfit of hers, Eren had one of those snap moments where he just looked at her and thought: ok but what the hell. He wasn’t stupid, Eren knew that she’s pretty but damn, how can a woman be this perfect. God, Mikasa was beautiful, and Eren would have no problem with staring at her for over five hours.

Standing up to match her, Eren noticed that while the massive boots gave her height a little boost, she was still shorter than him. When Mikasa wore those killer heels of hers, their eyes were roughly at the same level, but not now, the gothic queen was smaller than her devoted servant. Reaching out, he took her hand into his, intertwining their fingers.

“You know,” he said, looking her up and down, taking in the whole getup, “You kind of look like a superhero in this.”

“I do?”

“Yea, like… hmm… the super gothic… dark princess of….hmm.. darkness?”

“Dark princess of darkness? Wow, how expressive.”

“Your attempts at mockery are not needed, vampiress.”

That made her smile, black lips curving up.

“Well, if you are a good boy today, and I might suck something else than blood.”, she gave him a wink, taking a few steps towards the exit and tugging him right along with her.

“Come on, baby,” she said.

“Let’s go save the world.”

Mikasa’s plan worked, that was for sure. While they drew looks, as a pair, it was only Mikasa who the attention was centered at. With miss goth 2020 on his arm, no one paid Eren much attention, especially when his clothes were simply a suit, nothing as interesting as her dress-up. The only one who knew about the collar was the woman who put it there. And no one would know. Eren was just a smudge of black suit next to the dark goddess next to him, radiating beauty and confidence with each step. He really was not much more than a servant, being taken by his mistress out of a nice walk. Eren heard them, heard the few whispers that praised Mikasa, heard the people saying how beautiful she is, and he couldn’t agree more. And the fact that this divine being was holding his hand, her attention almost solely focused on him made Eren feel all warm and happy inside.  Mikasa was a supermodel, she could wear anything she wanted and pull it off perfectly. And the world just stared. It’s called fashion sweetie, look it up.

Overall, this day out was an otherworldly experience. Mikasa was in the lead, completely, Eren simply followed her like a dog on a leash. First, they just walked around the city for a spell. After that, she took him to a cinema, but not for the movie. Sure, they bought tickets for something, Eren couldn’t even remember what, enchanted as he was. Sitting next to her, Mikasa kept the contact between them light, just the tips of her fingers tapping away at his skin, and Eren was touch starved before he realized it. Not for long.

As soon as the lights went down Mikasa confidently climbed into his lap and angling his head up, she claimed his mouth. Whatever the movie was it must have not been very good, as they were alone in the room, fact that Eren was grateful for, considering that he spent most of it by having his mouth ravaged. Mikasa kissed him, bit into his neck, did anything she wanted to her pet while all Eren could do was groan, head swimming from her intensity. Of course, the cage turned from dismissible thing into a small inferno, his body attempting to react as it normally did to being kissed by his goth gf. And couldn’t, his attempts at erecting cut short by the metal bars of the chastity. Her weight on his lap, her tongue tracing his teeth, Eren moaned into her mouth, in paradise and hell at the same time. Mikasa was wearing a dress, which meant that the only barrier between his caged pride and her heat was Eren’s jeans and her lacy panties, the way she slid against his crotch made him go close to losing it. And she knew perfectly what she was doing, of course, stirring her hips a little, mimicking those movements she did while riding him, driving her puppy insane. A film never felt this long in Eren’s life before.

After the “movie” they both had to visit the bathroom, Mikasa to reapply her lipstick, as she left most of it littered over Eren’s face and neck, and him to wipe away the said stains. Despite his best efforts, some residue remained, dark spots littering most of the skin above the leather collar. Holding the sink, Eren stared at himself, at the ravaged face that looked back at him from the mirror. Mikasa was doing things to him, things that were beyond his power to explain, she was wrapping him in her spells. The black smudges on his face and neck, the collar, still visible even beneath his tie, the cage, tight between his legs, those were all little stamps of her ownership and Eren couldn’t help but wonder on the long way she came. From an insecure blushing, silent, weird goth girl at school to this. A smug and beautiful goth dominatrix who had no problems with using her pretty boy in any place and any way that she saw fit. And from the way his eyes were unfocused, how red his face was, Eren knew that he was loving it, loving when Mikasa displayed her confidence and beauty like this. She was sexy, she was hot, and she knew it, wearing it out in the open without a care in the world. Eren was glad that he was partly the reason why she could do this, he and others have together chipped away at Mikasa’s made-up insecurities, bringing out the inner goddess. It was high time that his fiancé realized that she is indeed a queen. Eren was just lucky that he was allowed to accompany her.

The next stop of Mikasa’s grand tour was a small restaurant, saying that she’s hungry. And nothing even happened, for a long time, she just played with the key around her neck a lot, obviously teasing her puppy. When the dessert came, she turned up the heat.

“Spread your legs.”, she ordered out of nowhere.

“W-What?”

“Spread your legs.”, Mikasa repeated, eyes completely serious, “Now.”

Choice was an illusion, he couldn’t say no to her. Obeying, Eren soon discovered why she wanted this. Under the table, hidden from view, Mikasa lifted her leg and pressed her heavy boot against Eren’s crotch, putting some weight behind it. Shaking it a bit, literally rattling his cage, she smiled oh so sweetly at him at the same time, her black lips curved upwards.

“Are you okay, baby?”, she said out loud, faking the concern in her voice perfectly, “Your face is all red.”

How was it supposed to be not red, when she went on with her little torment underneath the table, the thick sole of her boot perfect for the teasing.

“I’m…I’m okay.”, Eren squeezed out, managing a smile, “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”, the intentionally dragged out the word, increasing the pressure.

Eren’s fingertips dug into the table for the sides, his legs shaking. It would be a logical course of action to close them, to force the pressure away from his crotch, but his mistress ordered him to keep them open. And her word was more important than self-preservation, it looked like. She went on, moving her leg a bit, increasing and decreasing the strength of the push, while all the time keeping eye contact with her pet. You’re mine, her dark eyes said, you let me do this to you because you know that I own you.

“I’m fine, fine…”, breathing was difficult, as anytime Eren drew breath the collar made its presence known, tight around his throat.

And he was basically panting at this point, as Mikasa went on with her fun, toying with his helplessly restricted cock using the toe of her boot.

“Thank you for your concern,”, eyes meeting hers, he forced himself to smile back, “Mistress.”

“That’s good, very good, because when we get home…”, Mikasa leaned over the table, her lips brushing Eren’s ear when she whispered, “I’ll make sure that you won’t be okay or fine anymore.”

As quickly as it appeared, her boot was gone from his crotch, and Mikasa stood up, a radiant smile on her face.

“Let’s go, we have a long night ahead of us.”

This whole day, everything Mikasa did, Eren didn’t even realize that she was slowly but surely enchanting him. All the little touches, the teasing, the smiles, she was weaving an expert web around her puppy, drawing him into it. The audacity of the things she did to him, how nonchalantly she ignored any chance of them being found out, it shocked Eren and turned him on at the same time, exactly as Mikasa planned. The goth witch had him under her spell completely by the time they reached their house. Eren belonged to her in body, mind, and spirit too, broken and ready to be ordered around. Mikasa wanted an obedient pet tonight, not a bratty one, and molded her puppy just the way she wanted to. They surely didn’t save the world today, but Mikasa positively wrecked Eren’s. Now, he was ready to serve her.

“Maybe next time we do this, I’ll put a leash on you too.”, she was saying as they entered, “What do you say, Eren, would you like me parading you around on a leash? Maybe on all fours too, like a good dog.”

“Anything for you, ma’am.”, came from behind her in an unfocused voice, as Eren was too busy staring at her legs and ass as she walked in front of him, hips swaying, hypnotizing.

While Eren removed his shoes and jacket, as they usually did before entering the living room, he noted that Mikasa didn’t take off anything, keeping even the massive leather boots on. She’s most likely going to order him to take them off for her, not wanting to bother herself with all those buckles, he deduced, following his queen. Walking into the living room, Mikasa sat down, graciously, on the sofa, eyeing her prey. There was plenty of room to sit next to her, the furniture was massive, but Eren knew what she wanted him to do, and sitting wasn’t it. Coming to stand next to the goth, he sank down to his knees, keeping his back straight as he looked at his mistress with a glint of adoration in his eyes. Judging from her smile, he passed the test.

“You’re a good boy tonight.”, she said, appreciative.

“Thank you, mistress.”

“But I’m damn tired,” she drawled, stretching her body, all that walking….

From the corner of her eye, Mikasa could see how hungrily Eren eyed her legs, giving her an idea.

“What do you say, pet, do you want to make me feel better?”

He nodded, rapidly.

“Perfect. But before you can serve me, I need to see you better.”, she gestured with one finger, “Take off your shirt and tie, I wanna see those pecs.”

But when Eren moved to obey, she held up a hand.

“And do it slowly, I want a show.”

Button by button then, Eren undid his shirt, letting it hang open. Mikasa almost immediately took advantage, reaching out to place her hand over his chest, tracing the muscles there with a light touch. Oh yes, this felt good.

“I like it when my slaves are in good physical condition,”, she mused, “Then they can serve me for a longer time. And you do have some nice shapes here.”

The edges of her rings scratched along his heated skin when Mikasa dragged her knuckles over the exposed patch of it before reluctantly pulling her hand back.

“Continue.”, she ordered.

Completely under her spell, Eren moved automatically, shrugging off his shirt and folding it neatly next to him. The tie came next, unwrapping the knot and pulling it from his neck, fully exposing the collar that was there. The large letters caught the light, nicely shimmering, spelling out her victim’s name. Now naked from the waist up, save for the leather collar, Eren once again resumed his kneeling position. Back straight, hands behind his back, one holding at the wrist of the other, eyes only for his mistress, waiting for her to order him, to tell him what to do. On her part, Mikasa was in no rush, reaching out to run her fingers up and down his firm stomach, over those nice abs and between his legs, feeling up the metal of his caged cock. The way her slow exploration made him groan was completely worth it.

But it was about time that her puppy felt some pain too, she knew how much he enjoyed it. Back up, Mikasa arched her fingers, changing her hand into a claw and digging her nails into the firm muscles of Eren’s abdomen. Mercilessly, she dragged her hand, creating a nice red path behind her hand. Eren’s eyes widened as he took a sharp intake of breath, but didn’t make a sound, even as Mikasa took her time in scratching his skin. He didn’t question it, didn’t protest, didn’t do anything to stop her. After all, Eren was Mikasa’s property, and if she wanted to mark him, then who could say no to her. To test her puppy further, Mikasa moved her hand again, this time all the way up to Eren’s chest. With delicate movement, she reached out, tweaking a nipple between her black fingernails. The sudden surge of pain made him curse, a muttered word said between clenched teeth, but it didn’t escape her attention.

“What was that?”, she said with a grin, “You said you wanted more? But of course…”

With a rustle of her dress, Mikasa leaned forward. Her every move carefully tracked by Eren’s eyes, who was just a little bit nervous about what she was going to do to him. Mikasa could get creative if she wanted to. Noticing his nervousness, her mouth moved up to his ear, whispering.

“Aww, poor baby, are you scared?.”, her tone dropped lower, “Good. You should be.”

Gently, she kissed his earlobe, the tip of her tongue playing with that sensitive body part, all fun and games, until she decided that Eren relaxed enough. And then she bit it, forcing another groan from her abused boy. With an evil giggle, Mikasa pulled back, one hand snaking behind Eren’s back and taking hold of his overlong hair, yanking his head back. Forced to stare at the ceiling, he could only feel as her lips descended to nip at his neck, abusing that little part above the collar’s edge. When her teeth sunk into it, adding another lovebite to the collection from the cinema, all he could do was groan. Again. Far from done, Mikasa moved her head down, kissing and nipping all over his skin, down until she reached her prize. Sealing her lips around Eren’s nipple, she flicked it with her tongue, lashed it with small kitten licks, loving how it made him shiver. Mikasa couldn’t wait to put the clamps back to work, as his nipples were very sensitive, same as hers, and she knew firsthand just how intense the metallic bite can be. For now, her teeth would do. Grazing the peak lightly, she used her hand to play with the other one, tips of her nails scratching lightly around the skin.

It was the anticipation that was the worst. Eren knew what was going to happen, sooner or later Mikasa would bite down, make him writhe in pain again, abuse his body, but all she did was featherlight, pleasurable, and the waiting was killing him. It used to be alien, weird, to derive pleasure from having his nipples played with, but he and Mikasa had long since crossed that bridge. Nowadays, they were up to some much darker stuff. At exactly that moment, she bit down, and her fingers that till now were only lightly tapping at his other nipple twisted it, making Eren’s whole body tense up from the sudden lash of pain. But he managed to remain silent, much to Mikasa’s delight. She did enjoy training her puppy, after all. Easing her hold, she once again returned to the nice treatment, as if that sharp sting was simply Eren’s imagination.

Taking her time with it, Mikasa developed a routine. Alternating between both of the sensitive peaks on Eren’s chest, she moved her mouth between them, but never let the other one rest, using her hand to play with it. Sometimes, her lips completely abandoned that area, choosing instead to nip at his collar bones, neck, everywhere she wanted to. She had two hands to use, didn’t she? Her mouth was an addition, she could very well handle her boy without it. His body was her playground, a canvas which she was slowly but surely painting red. Only here for now, but Mikasa had plans for the rest of it later, no rest for the wicked. Always unexpected, she was gentle before being rough, fondling and licking before biting and scratching, turning pain into pleasure and pleasure into pain on a moment’s notice.

Eren was taking the abuse or training, rather well, although groans and shivers moved his body anytime Mikasa got rough. It doesn’t really matter how much do you prepare mentally, having one of your nipples bitten into and the other tweaked by strong and nimble fingers just have certain effects on your body.

“You like pain, pretty boy?”, she murmured, “Do you like it when I torment you?”

As if she didn’t know the answer to that by now, as if his cock wildly straining against the cage wasn’t a proof of how much he craved it.

“I..L-Love it… Miss-“, Mikasa chose just that moment to bite again, “F-Fuck… Mistress..”

Eren wanted to touch her so bad, his hands straining where they rested behind his back, fingers digging into his own skin to keep himself from moving. There must have been red spots from how tightly the fingers of his left held his right wrist, and vice versa, effectively cuffing himself without Mikasa tying him up using anything physical. Her word was more than enough. The collar bobbed around his neck, when he swallowed, sweat beading on his skin, the abuse Mikasa was enjoying rather difficult to endure. Yet he did so, suffered it without moving a muscle, and that impressed his mistress enough to consider this part of the training as complete.

Pulling back, Mikasa returned to a more comfortable position at the sofa, her half-lidded eyes watching her toy. His own eyes were darkened, pupils dilated, breathing heavy and skin covered in sweat, beads of it running down over those pretty firm muscles. It made Mikasa hungry for more. And seeing his face, somewhat devoid of any marks, she got an idea.

“You’ve been eyeing my boots before.”, she said, turning her leg to give him a better look, “You like them?”

Eren’s eyes flickered down, taking in the glory that was her calf encased in tight leather.

“Of course, mistress.”

“Tell me, how would you reply if I said that they make me want to step on you?”

Oh god.

“I…Uh… I mean….”

The slap was hard, ringing Eren’s ears while his head snapped to the right with the strength of the blow. The rings didn’t make it better, surely leaving their marks on his cheek. Automatically, his head moved back to its original position, ready for more punishment if his mistress decided that it was necessary.

“When I ask you a question,”, another slap, “I expect only one answer,” another one, “Do you know what it is?”

“Yes.”, his jaw ached while talking, “It’s: Of course, mistress.”

“Good. Now get on the fucking floor.”

Immediately obeying, Eren lay down on his back, presenting himself in front of his mistress. Standing up, Mikasa loomed over him, looking down at her slave, the hint of sadism back in her eyes.

“Now, ask me for it.”, she drawled, “Beg.”

Not like Eren had a choice.

“Please, mistress, step on me.”

With a huff of satisfaction on finally being given the appropriate respect, Mikasa lifted her leg before slowly setting it down against Eren’s chest. His hands balled into fists as she increased the pressure, muscles clenching. Deeming that he’s ready, Mikasa let go of solid ground, fully moving to stand on Eren, his chest broad enough to fully accommodate her, looking down at him, the hint of sadism evolving into a full-blown grin. Mikasa could say that she was standing at the top of the world, or better yet, had the whole world beneath her feet. Funny.

The boots may have seriously been made for walking on people, the massive platform soles cushioning her feet very nicely, making even standing on such even terrain quite easy to do. For Eren, who was apparently turned into a human carpet, a footrest, it was rather hard to endure, although it gave him a little bonus. Lying under her, it gave him the perfect place from which he could peek under her dress, to see not only her beautifully strong pale legs in all their endlessly long glory but also the part between them, covered by the black lace of her panties. You know what, for this view, the suffering was worth it. That was until Mikasa took a step backward, planting on of her boots right on his crotch.

“Do you think your cock is feeling neglected?”, she thought out loud, increasing the pressure of her foot, “All alone in the cage, while we are having so much fun….”

Fishing between her necklaces, she pulled out the key, looking at it thoughtfully. Wiggling her leg, Mikasa forced more of those delicious sounds from her captive.

“Maybe I should unlock it…. Hmmm…”

Eren couldn’t really answer. Mikasa was not light, her athletic build made sure of that, so speaking was impossible with all her weight settled on his chest, pushing out any air he managed to squeeze into his lungs. He wasn’t really expecting to be let out this early into the play, but if she was offering, then maybe….

“No, not yet.”, she decided, letting go of the key and it vanished right back among the collection around her neck.

There goes that hope.

At least she lifted her foot back from his crotch and moved it to stand once more on his chest. It’s the small victories that count. The moment of triumph didn’t last long, as Mikasa once again lifted one of her legs, this time using it to turn Eren’s head and step on the side, squishing his face into the floor.

“You look so good under my boots, puppy, beneath me, it’s where you belong.”, the pressure increased again, making Eren’s eyes water, “It feels amazing to put you in your place.”

Having Eren endured all this shit she threw at him without a word of protest, the fact that he literally let her walk all over him made her so aroused that Mikasa had to hop off, otherwise she might just not be able to hold herself and fuck him here and there, which would be a waste of all her evil plans. Breathing hard, she stared at his devoted face under her foot, loving this moment of dominance so much. When Eren gave himself to her this willingly, when he absolutely followed orders, it never failed to make her wet between the legs. Regaining control from her primal side, Mikasa closed her eyes for a second, searching that lost composition before forcing herself to stop and get on with it. Fuck, but this was hot.

Just as soon as it appeared, the heavy boot was gone, allowing Eren to turn his head back up, just in time to catch Mikasa stepping down from him and returning to her place on the sofa. Reaching out, she crooked a single finger in the well-known gesture of Come here.

Able to breathe freely after what felt like an eternity, Eren slowly picked himself up from the floor and back into the kneeling position by her side. To say that she was harsh would be an understatement, Mikasa was really letting her cruel sadist side run free tonight. Aside from all the scratches left behind from before, his chest now had boot prints from where his cruel mistress deemed his body to be worthy of being stepped on by her divine being.

“That was fun,” she said, awfully cheerful, “I’m definitely doing it again, soon. But now…”

Stretching her legs, Mikasa smirked.

“Those boots are heavy to wear, and I’m growing tired.”

She tapped the top of one with her finger, her nail lightly touching the black leather. Eyes looking straight at Eren, her voice changed from the normal one back to her dominatrix tone, giving orders and not taking no as an answer.

“I want your mouth on my boots, puppy, I want you to kiss and lick every part of them. I want you to show just how devoted you are to serving me. After that, I’ll allow you to take them off and you will give a similar treatment to my legs, and massage my feet too, it was a long day of walking after all.”, smirk once again curved her black-painted lips, “What do you say, pretty boy, up for the task?”

Taking a wheezing breath, Eren tore his eyes away from those sexy shoes, meeting her gaze. Was he up for it? Damn, that was not even a question. Not only was he completely under her control, but from the way she worded the order it was clear that Mikasa wanted Eren to help her relax, to feel good, and that was always high on his priority list, doesn’t matter if she was domming him or not.

“I would love to do it.”, he said, “To worship you, mistress.”

“Good boy.”

Relaxing once again into the sofa, Mikasa lifted her leg, letting Eren take hold of it. Seeing how eager he looked, how his eye darted all the way over the knee-high boot and up to the for now forbidden garden of Mikasa’s stocking covered thigh, it did things to her, to the place between her legs which was getting more and more aroused by the second. For now, however, the dominatrix would just sit back and enjoy the show. Seated comfortably, she nodded at her puppy, ordering him to start with a single word.

“Begin.”

[katzenkrieg]

Loredump: FFXIV Ships I Sail

I have a massive loredump (see link in my bio) I work on updating occasionally, recording all kinds of details on my WoL, paladin Camille Delane, and his journey to date. Just got done with outlining all of the ships both with and without the WoL that I sail so far. (I’m sure I’ve missed some, of course!)

Spoilers through all of the ShB and 5.x! 

Ships I Sail:

With the WoL:

Cam/Cid (headcanon) - my canon couple. They got together after ARR but before the events of Heavensward and have been a casually out/public couple ever since. After returning from the First, Cam immediately proposed to Cid. Cid’s accepted, but they won’t have the ceremony until they’ve fished a significant part of Cam’s found family back from the First somehow.

Cam/Nero (headcanon) - They’ve either had sex at least once already or will have in the future. There’s just too much sexual tension and rivalry between them when it comes to Cid--and Cid’s genuinely *not* interested in Nero romantically or sexually, so Nero can’t *do* much with his sexual tension/attraction towards Cid except redirect it at Cam. This doesn’t mess up Cam and Cid’s relationship, because Nero is actually much easier to deal with when *someone* is fucking him, and Cid’s fine with accepting Cam and Nero being together now and then as background noise to he and Cam’s relationship.

Cam/Ardbert (headcanon) - During his time in the First, Cam became increasingly lonely and isolated from the other Scions. Ardbert was the only person he could be completely honest with about his fears, doubts, and growing sense that he would be inevitably separated from his humanity, his mortality, and his friends and family. For Ardbert, Cam was the only person he could talk to at all, of course! They eventually got creative and formed a romantic-sexual relationship, despite the fact they couldn’t actually touch. Cam’s been honest about this with Cid, but if Cid’s not bothered by Cam and Nero occasionally getting together, he’s definitely not bothered by Cam having a relationship with a...ghost that also shared a soul with Cam. Cid’s not even going to pretend he can form any judgments on something that metaphysical.

Cam/Feo Ul (canon) - Cam’s decided that whatever forming a compact with a pixie means, it’s...a lot closer to an ownership relationship than the casual way the Exarch suggested Cam form one with Feo Ul would suggest. After being scolded and praised in equal measure by Feo Ul just about every time they’ve been face-to-face, and having them offer to possibly betray their entire world and lead it to inevitable destruction just to keep him safe and alive, Cam has realized he has an ally for life and beyond, even if that ally sees him as something a bit like a beautiful pet or flower--sweet, fleeting, and never knowing what’s best for it. Though the relationship isn’t sexual/romantic, it’s incredibly strong. (And, yes, I would 100% read/write Feo Ul as the Faery King dom/ming the WoL, so the not sexual/romantic part is only in canon, not in “awyeah, plot bunnies” one-shot and AU scenarios.) 

Cam/Unrequited Aymeric (canon) - Aymeric is definitely in a combination of love/hero worship with Cam, but Cam doesn’t reciprocate the feelings. Sorry, Aymeric!

Cam/Unrequited Haurchefant (canon) - Cam would have loved Haurchefant back romantically/sexually if he could--Haurchefant’s love was so obvious, genuine, and no-strings-attached. Cam still sometimes feels guilt that he just didn’t have the same feelings in return. He still valued Haurchefant’s friendship highly and counts his loss as one of the lowest moments of his time as the Warrior of Light.

Cam/Unrequited Crystal Exarch (canon) - Cam’s not aware of this one at all, but the Exarch is so nervous around and concerned about him, it’s obvious to others (such as Emet-Selch and Alisaie).

Cam/Unrequited Zenos (headcanon) - Zenos has no healthy boundaries at all, and his obsession with Cam has a sexual--and, of course, predatory--element. Cam is extremely not interested.

Cam’s Ascian antecedent/Emet-Selch (canon) - They were definitely incredibly close and important to each other in some way. Whether this was sexual or platonic remains to be seen, but there was a romantic aspect to the relationship in either case.

Unrequited Cam/Moenbryda (headcanon) - Cam would gladly have made his interest in Moenbryda clear if her own interest in Urianger wasn’t so obvious. As it was, though he was attracted to her and greatly enjoyed any time they were able to work (and fight) together, he chose not to say anything. He thinks Moenbryda was aware of it at some level, but he believes Urianger never noticed. (Urianger did notice; he’s just never brought it up.) Moenbryda’s death, like Haurchefant’s, is one that still hits Cam hard, especially because he had so little time to get to know her.

Unrequited Cam/Ysayle (headcanon) - As a fellow Echo-bearer, Ysayle had quite a bit in common with Camille--not only in terms of knowing what it felt like to have the Echo, but also in her commitment to her ideals and to her allies. Cam admired her determination, dedication, and idealism, even though they came at a cost to her and to others; Cam’s own motivations tend to be less abstract and more based in his love for his family, friends, and world. He made a few clumsy attempts to show his interest, and Ysayle looked right past them, apparently without recognizing them for what they were. As time wore on, Cam decided it wasn’t fair to her for him to try to distract her from her goals and ideals (though, honestly, he could have done a great deal of good by distracting her at least a bit--perhaps if someone had pulled her closer to the earth in her relationships and goals, she might have chosen to live instead of sacrifice herself!). He settled on continuing to admire her and support her. Her loss is another sharp sore spot in his time as Warrior of Light.

Cam/Urianger (potential, AU) - as of Shadowbringers, I could actually see this happening during their time in the First, but *only* if, for some strange reason, Urianger and Thancred didn’t end up together. It would also definitely happen in the Faery King AU. Urianger clearly is fascinated by the fae and also just as clearly feels like he has to carry the emotional burden of any strange, life-altering transformative choices his friends make, in relation to the fate of the First, so if Cam became fae, Urianger would quickly become fascinated and protective/possessive in an understated way. Cam would benefit from having a mortal who knew *him* as a mortal and also knows a great deal about the fae to help him navigate his new existence and would reciprocate easily.

Cam/Lyse (potential, AU) - in canon/headcanon, they’re extremely close but in a siblings/platonic fashion. If Cid hadn’t been in the picture, however, Lyse and Cam might have become a romantic/sexual couple. He certainly loves her and is more at home with her than with any of the other Scions.

Without the WoL:

Unrequited Alisaie/Tesleen (headcanon) - Alisaie’s grief over Tesleen’s loss, I read as more than the loss of just a friend, comrade, and peer role model/mentor; whether Alisaie ever articulated it to herself or not, she felt an attraction to Tesleen. Tesleen’s loss--the loss of the first potential for a deep love-based same-sex relationship that she represented--will stay with Alisaie forever. If Alisaie comes out and establishes a firm queer identity later, articulating her feelings to herself and to Tesleen’s memory will be a major part of it.

Alisaie/Ryne (potential, headcanon) - Ryne seems quite interested in being around Alisaie and spending time with her during the Scions’ time in Amaurot. It’s quick and subtle, but I could easily see a crush developing between the two, with Ryne initiating the relationship.

Urianger/Thancred (headcanon) - They married (in all but name, at least). I wouldn’t have seen this ship coming prior to Shadowbringers, but boy is it clear they’ve reached an old-married-couple ‘I support his goofinesses and foibles even if I don’t get them’ level of just being around and covering for each other during their time in the First. They haven’t outed themselves publicly to the other Scions yet, but everyone knows anyway.

Y’shtola/Runar (potential, canon) - If Y’shtola doesn’t yet see how much Runar admires and loves her and wants to care for and support her--and show her how wonderful she is, in his opinion--it’s only because she’s deliberately not seeing it--or accepting it. Y’shtola doesn’t have any models in her past for good romantic relationships; Matoya actively pushed away others and distanced herself even in close family relationships, never mind romantic relationships. Y’shtola does the same, even though it’s not necessary for her to do so--and, in fact, might even hurt herself and others. Runar’s going to keep trying, though, and whether she ever reciprocates or not, he won’t waver.

Unrequited Nero/Cid (canon) - Nero envy-lusts after Cid. Cid had everything Nero could ever want--position, attention from the those in power, resources, talent--and then he *threw it away.* And not only that, he threw it away and the Empire didn’t immediately give all the recognition Cid had relinquished to Nero. *And* Cid himself seems oblivious to how much he had and how much Nero wanted what he had. Unacceptable! Clearly the only way to fix this is for Nero to make himself impossible to ignore and convince Cid to tie him to a bed somewhere and finally act like he *notices* how much Nero wants his attention. Cid, however, remains completely oblivious and uninterested. Cid’s one of those people who’s attracted to one person and *only* after that person has taken the initiative in suggesting/establishing a romantic/sexual relationship. That one person is Cam. Sorry, Nero, you weren’t ever going to win this one.

Platonic Yugiri/Hien (canon) - Yugiri views her relationship with Hien as permanent and primary--her service to him is her guiding relationship in life, much as Lucia’s is to Aymeric. It’s also completely platonic and requires no romantic reciprocation from Hien. Which is good, because Hien is...likely not entirely (or at least not consciously) aware of the depth of Yugiri’s dedication to him.

Platonic Thancred/Minfilia (canon) - Thancred’s feelings for Minfilia have been a bit mixed over the course of his life, I think, which is part of why he struggles to express them so much, but I do believe the bedrock of how he feels towards her is familial--as a sibling and a younger sister. He’s probably tried to think of it as or push it towards romance in the past, as that would be easier for him to deal with--and possibly easier for him to devalue and dismiss. Fortunately, Minfilia wasn’t having it, and Thancred has always been forced back to looking at his relationship straight-on -- as that of an older brother who thought of himself as the protector and was eventually no longer needed in that role. Until right up to Minfilia’s final Rejoining with Ryne, Thancred still wasn’t able to reconcile Minfilia’s choosing her own path and not requiring his protection with his love for her as a sister/family and his own conception of himself as her older brother figure; only finally admitting that she had gone beyond him, to places he couldn’t follow, allowed him to accept the truth of their relationship and put it in place in his mind and identity.

Platonic Lucia/Aymeric (canon) - Much as Yugiri is platonically committed to Hien, without any need of romantic reciprocation, Lucia has chosen to commit her life to Aymeric and his ideals. Unlike Hien, Aymeric is very much aware of the depth of Lucia’s commitment and respects and deeply appreciates it.

Unrequited Estinien/Ysayle (headcanon) - Estinien went from anger, resentment, and scorn towards Ysayle to, eventually, being intrigued by and drawn to her and seeing similarities between his own unbending self-isolating ideals and hers. Whether he ever reached true respect for her, completely free of pity or scorn, is an entirely different question. On Ysayle’s part, she noticed any subtleties in Estinien’s feelings and behavior towards her about as much as she noticed Cam’s--which is to say, not at all. Ysayle was very much fighting her own internal battle up until the very moment of her death, and the dating scene and what various adventurer-warrior types around her felt about her was nowhere on her radar.

Estinien/Gaius (potential) - Estinien spends time with no one (except for Aymeric and Ysayle and sometimes Cam…) and suddenly he’s spending almost all of his free time running around with Gaius? Come on, y’all, something’s up. Dish, Estinien.

Estinien/Aymeric (potential) - Whether they’ve been together in the past or will be together in the future...there’s definitely a connection between the two of them. They figure very large in each other’s views of their identities and personal histories/narratives.

Lyse/Hien (potential) - I could see it happening. Cam would support it--Hien and Lyse are both two slightly clueless, goodhearted, very straightforward people dealing with a lot of pressure and expectations placed on them, and they might have a lot of fun together helping each other meet those challenges. They might also get in a lot of trouble--trouble and fun not being mutually exclusive, of course.

Unrequited entire Buduga tribe/Hien (canon) - They clearly want Hien. A lot. Whatever this tribe of Xaela considers the ideal physical type, it seems like Hien must come pretty damned close to it...

[roswelldetails]

RNM 2x07 - Como La Flor

Apologies for being so late this week!! Lots of translating to do, and research. Mucho gracias to @queenrikki for reviewing this one for me!

EPISODE SUMMARY:

OLD WOUNDS — Liz (Jeanine Mason) is forced to revisit a painful part of her past when her mother Helena (guest star Bertila Damas) shows up at the diner unexpectedly. Michael (Michael Vlamis) urges Maria (Heather Hemmens) to seek help after she experiences a strange vision, and Kyle’s (Michael Trevino) attempt to get Steph (guest star Justina Adorno) to open up doesn’t go as planned. Finally, Helena’s arrival in Roswell sends Rosa spiraling. Nathan Dean and Lily Cowles also star. Barbara Brown directed the episode written by Danny Tolli & Carolina Rivera (#207). Original airdate 4/27/2020. 

DETAILS:

Max and Isobel both describing to Rosa how it feels to use (and control) your powers.

Isobel:

"Ground your intention.  Feel the current running through your body, your hands guiding it with purpose."

Max:

"Okay, draw energy from your spine…"

Arturo on Rosa:

"I heard a little mouse crying in her room this morning."

Escamoles - like Liz says in the episode, they're ant larvae. One article I found called them "the Caviar of the Mexican desert". 

Helena calls Liz "mi corazón", which means "my heart".

"Arturito, te ves bien."

Arturo, you look good.

Adding "ito" to someone's name in Spanish can both be positive or negative.  It can refer to smallness or also tenderness (like an affectionate pet name).

@tasyfa pointed out that there was a little timeline error in this scene.  Arturo says that he hasn't seen Helena in 7 years, since Jim Valenti's funeral, but last season it was established in 1x12 that Valenti died in 2014.  Also, remember the show is a year behind reality right now, so it's still 2019. So off by 2 years.

The reason for Helena's visit - transferring her ownership of the Crashdown for Liz so that Liz can sponsor Arturo's residency for citizenship. I did a lot of research trying to understand and clarify why this is.  Thanks to those who weighed in when I was struggling to find a clear answer. Eventually I reached out to Define American, the non-profit org that provides support to the show on racial and immigration related issues.  Here's the response:

The short version is that Liz has to meet minimum income requirements in order to sponsor Arturo, because she has to be able to certify that she can financially support him.  Since she's currently unemployed except for the Crashdown, transferring half of the ownership to her makes her a business partner and helps her to meet the income requirements. 

The Spanish:

"¿Cuánto quieres, Mamá?" 

How much do you want, Mama?

"She has a very thoughtful manicure."

If you don't understand, it's cool. I'm not going to explain here.  Feel free to DM me though! I won't judge, promise!!

Narrative thread about Max's nightmare/memory continues from 2x03 and 2x06.  Don't forget that 2x03 was just Isobel remembering it. Max was a hallucination. So when he brings it up here, it might be something they haven't discussed in a very long time.

The Spanish from Rosa on her red jacket:

"Eres una mujercita."

Basically translates to you're a little woman or young woman.  I assume the "cita" is supposed to be diminutive here.

"Mom is an opportunist.  If she found out she had a kid who came back from the dead she would use you to get to Anderson Cooper. And then she'd use him to promote her latest lounge singer gig."

"Isobel pays double.  Becky tax." 

A Becky, according to common colloquial use, is an annoying white woman, usually entitled and privileged.

Lead bartender quit..meaning there's a job opening at the Pony…hmm. Wonder if any of our characters need a job... 🤔

Maria's vision:

Michael drops the change

Flash to Kyle dropping his keys & bending down to pick them up.

Kyle staring into a bright light.

Maria shouting his name.

"My heart was broken.  Liz ended things and a part of me died."

Max's story to Valenti… not all THAT far off from the truth.

Note: has anyone told him about Valenti investigating him? We know Liz and Isobel were questioned.  Michael was present when Liz was questioned. Kyle knows the whole theory his mom was pursuing. And he just wanders in there like nothing happened?

"Try leading several short staffed investigations with the mayor breathing down your neck."

Another subtle reference to the mayor, including the election banners hung around town in S2 and his "anti-immigrant agenda" which was referenced in S1.

Max has been with the department since he was 18 - this is the first time we learned that.  In 2x05 we learned he was there at 21. So that timeline has now been further clarified. Which also means he was hired during Jim Valenti's time as Sheriff.

"I need eyes on you at all times now."

Definitely implies a lack of trust, or possibly still wanting to keep an eye on him for the purpose of her investigation (not a fact, just a theory).

Steph tells Kyle that she's always hanging around the hospital because she's doing admin work for her dad.

"I'm starting to feel like you're a ghost who only I can see."

"Ask them if they can see me. Or if you were just talking to a ghost." 

Note that ghosts have been a running theme this season with Rosa returning from the dead. This seems to be in line with that. Or are they subtly tying Steph to Rosa (I'm grasping at straws here, probably).

Liz leaves the safe on 3...but before she changes it is on 81. Helena leaves it on 78 after stealing the ring. Good continuity, RNM!

The whole "my mom hates cops" theme is a little confusing to me.  I mean, it makes sense given what we know about Helena. Except that she had an affair with Jim Valenti, who was… a cop. And also an addict.  Maybe it was different because they rehabbed together (just an assumption, not a fact). Or maybe the Jim experience contributed to her dislike of cops.

Liz...might be grasping at straws when she refers to police work as "something you love" to Max.  He didn't exactly seem enamoured by the job when we first met him in Season 1.

First time we learn Max and Isobel's father's name. And it is… Dave. 🤔

The Spanish Helena uses when she meets Max:

"Pero que guapo estas."

But how handsome you are.

"Cuidado Arturito."

Careful, Arturo…

Helena found Liz and Diego's wedding registry online. 

“Look there are medical reasons for non-drug-induced hallucinations - epilepsy, schizophrenia…”

“My mom has a degenerative brain disease. My grandma did too. I've always known I'd be next.”

Helena wanted to be Selena.

Which fits with Liz's lounge singer comment earlier.

And the "drunkenly singing in the car with your daughters in the backseat" fits with the story Liz and Rosa discussed in 2x02 about the car accident they got into as kids with Helena driving drunk.

Helena shows Liz her ten years sober chip, suggesting that she's been sober since Rosa died, but Rosa finds pills in Helena's car later in the episode.  Oxycodone. The same drug that Rosa used to steal from her mom as a kid (which we learned about in 2x04) and the same drug that she and Kyle discussed when he was checking her health in 2x01.

During Helena's toast to Rosa:

Preciosa = precious

Rosa Linda… still not sure personally if this is a continuity error or a pet name.  I’m inclined to go with a pet name. Throughout the whole episode Helena uses lots of pet names, nicknames, diminutives to address people. Rosa Linda may be just another version of this since Rosa's middle name was pretty well established as Helena in Season 1 between her grave, memorial pamphlet, etc.

Kyle calls attention to Steph's bandage on her arm.  She says she gave blood, but it feels like she's evading.

Also she calls him McDreamy, which is a Grey's Anatomy reference. Kyle called himself McSexy (another Grey's nickname) in 1x08 as well.

Note: I've seen some people talk about the speech about his sick friend as being about Maria, but I think he's really talking about Steph.  Or both, vaguely. He's certainly trying to get Steph to open up to him. Here's what he says:

"I just found out a friend of mine is sick. And I can't do anything to help her. And I hate feeling helpless."

Only after Steph puts her walls back up, does he gesture to Mimi's files.

The Spanish:

"Oh, ándale, gùero."

Ándale is like, go! Or let's go! Gùero we discussed earlier...basically white boy.

Por favor - please 

Rosa's art that we first saw in 2x05 now looks finished:

Isobel's graffiti "In Pod We Trust"

Both Isobel and Rosa's graffiti:

Isobel's assessment of Rosa's art

"That's a black hole. An unstoppable force of destruction. And it's getting closer. I see a girl looking into her own doom. She thinks it's inevitable, that she can't stop it, but she can. See, she created it. That means she can destroy it."

Rosa on Isobel's efforts to help her:

"You and Max, you keep talking about harnessing emotion and grounding myself, right? But I can't do that.  It is in my DNA to be screwed up. Literally. My mom's mentally ill. So, so am I. I was broken long before Noah did what he did. That's why he chose me to prey on.  That's probably why he chose you too."

Maria on her grandmother:

"When I was a child my Grandma Patty was the only adult who understood my make-believe world. Thing is, I was six.  So my favorite things about her were just illness, I guess…"

Maria on her mom:

"She was always kind of out there.  By the time I realized it was more than that, I just became obsessed with money. Wanted to be able to take care of her. I invested everything Grandma Patty left me, and I worked, scrounged.  It was about three days after my mom was finally fired from her job at the Pony, I bought the place."

Maria's blood does not contain the alien protein that Kyle found in the Pod Squad and Rosa after being in the Pod for a decade. (and yes, he actually said Pod Squad, which feels like an OG fandom victory)

"Look, there is one thing I noticed in your grandmother's file. Her insurance company is the same one that paid for my dad's cancer treatments...My dad got cancer because of an alien incident at Caulfield Prison. A fake insurance company established by Project Shepherd covered his bills."

"Okay so my grandmother got sick at the same alien prison where your mother died?"

More Spanish (there's lots of it this week).

Helena, when she gestures to the present:

"Abre tu regalo."

Open your gift.

Quinces is just slang for Quinceanera.

Just in case you're not familiar with quinceaneras (Liz's was also referenced in 1x02).

"Mija, me enseñas tus prom photos?"

Daughter, show me your prom photos.

Regarding the power outage.  Liz thought it was Max. Max thought it was Rosa. But the wire is frayed, like it was cut or chewed through. So it wasn't alien power related.  When Arturo finds the wire though, he says, "Must have been a little mouse." Which is how he referred to Rosa earlier in the episode. So the question is, does he actually think it was a mouse? Or does he think Rosa cut the wire? And if Rosa did cut the wire, then why? To distract them while she goes after her mom's car?

In the big Liz/Helena argument, Helena calls Max “a güerito cop”.  Güero means white person, similar to the more commonly used gringo.  But by adding the “ito” onto the end (like discussed before), Helena is basically diminuitizing Max.  She’s using the “smallness” above to basically imply that he’s some white nobody.

“I may not be the PTA mom who made cookies for bake sales or hosted sleepovers, but I sacrificed everything to come to this country to give you a better life.”

This is...not actually true.  Liz and Rosa are both natural born U.S. citizens, born in Roswell.  So she didn’t “come to this country” for that reason. She was already here when Liz and Rosa came into the picture.  And it’s not like she came pregnant with Rosa or anything, since Rosa is Jim Valenti’s daughter.

The ring that Helena took was ARTURO'S mother's ring.  It wasn't even Helena's family's heirloom.   

Liz and Arturo sharing flan for dessert.  At the start of the episode before Helena arrived they discussed making flan for Rosa.

Arturo admits that he always knew the truth about Rosa's heritage. (*fistpump* that's one of my headcanons coming true). 

"Rosa es mi hija, siempre y para toda la vida."

Rosa is my daughter, always and for life.

"Maybe you're right. I am playing the hero. Just like you're playing the politician's perfect arm candy.  See, I did a little digging. And your boyfriend, Dirk-- he ran for city council. It's very impressive. But there's no mention of your daughters. I'm guessing Dirk doesn't even know about Liz or Rosa.  Does he know anything about you, Helena? 'Cause it would be such a shame if he found out about a little town called Roswell."

Helena gives Max the ring, but keeps the box… maybe that's what Helena really wanted?

Huevos = eggs.  Basically, slang for balls.

"I know that face.  You uncovered a massive conspiracy."

"I checked the Caulfield drives. No sign of a Patricia DeLuca, but there was a Patricia Harris. Her maiden name. She signed up to participate in an experimental trial. Government was interested in weaponizing alien abilities. They wanted to create super soldiers. Your grandma was one of the first human subjects."

"Kind of wish I was an alien instead."

"What happened to the experiment?"

"It was a total failure. Caulfield shut it down in the '70s after people started dying. I don't understand how your grandmother got involved."

"I do. Henrietta Lacks, Tuskegee, Holmesburg.  The DeLucas aren't the first black people to be secretly experimented on."

Highly encourage you to read these if you're unfamiliar with any of these references.  It's African-American history (and really a black mark on U.S. history) that's rarely taught in schools.

Henrietta Lacks:

Tuskegee:

Holmesburg:

Reality versus Maria's flashes… great gifset by @rosaortecho on this here:

Kyle rips his jacket, staggers out to the parking lot, drops his keys, and is almost hit by a car, but Michael throws him out of the way with his powers (and Kyle still ends up injured because he lands on a glass bottle).

"Now that we know your illness is related to Caulfield we can find a cure for it."

"Maybe it's not an illness. I saw the future today, Guerin. When I first found out Grandma Patty was experimented on, I was furious.  But what if my genetic inheritance isn't just injustice? It's also actual superpowers. Saved a life today. And not just any life-- Kyle Valenti's. Tomorrow he's gonna turn around and save five more lives."

Liz and Rosa's dueling big sister act is super fascinating.  Rosa admits that she wasn't going to burn the car, and then she saw Liz crying, felt helpless, and that's when her powers went all wacky and caused it to explode.

Meanwhile, Liz has spent the whole episode trying to keep Rosa safe from Helena, and is trying to comfort her here by talking about Helena's sobriety.

But--Rosa stole Helena's pills, so she knows Helena is not sober, and she doesn't tell Liz that.  Why? To protect her.

At some point these two should probably stop keeping secrets to protect each other and start actually sharing what they know.

Kyle stitches himself up.

Steph quoted in this scene:

"I was up in the gallery contemplating American downfall thanks to progressive socialism."

"People tend to bail when things get real. I'm not into that."

Cameron's car was impounded a couple hours away.

Max is turning in his badge and gun and is turning down desk duty to search for Cam.

Isobel and Michael's discussion at the Pony:

"Do you think that Noah chose me because I was already broken?"

"I think you are the only one of us who ever keeps it together."

"I'm serious, Michael. The night that drifter attacked me, why am I the only one who started blacking out? I mean, Max literally murdered a man, but I'm the one who breaks?"

"You were traumatized. We were kids. At that age, trauma gets etched on to your soul."

"But what if it's not in my soul? What if it's in my DNA? Look, my whole life, I've played Stepford wife, because I thought that's what I was supposed to do. But...I need to understand myself now. I need to know where I'm from.  And if I don't know who my biological parents are, how am I ever gonna know who I really am?" 

"What are you saying, Iz?"

"I know that we said we shouldn't look into the past, but…"

"It keeps pulling you back. Me too. I spent my whole life thinking I'd build a ship and blast off into the ether. And then the minute I decide to leave that all behind and focus on this good thing in front of me, I'm sucked back in. Maria's family was experimented on at Caulfield. I need to find out more so I can find a cure for her illness."

Rosa takes one of her mom's pills. 😭

MUSIC:

1. Cactus Groove "This World"

2. Shelly Fairchild "Drive"

3. Mathis Hunter "Mrs. Vinegar"

4. Big Stone City "Good For Zero"

5. Big Stone City "Way Down Below"

6. Selena "Bidi Bidi Bom Bom"

7. Elizabeth Moen "Best I Can Do"

8. Wagons "Keep Coming Back"

9. AG "Where Is My Mind" (Pixies Cover)

[pplowden]

PRE FMP Exaggeration and storytelling

Exaggeration and storytelling are inherent in human society. What I really find interesting is the structure of how humans live their lives. People find a comfort in routine and success in repetition. There is a unanimous decision in how we should form our days; at what times we brush our teeth, eat, get dressed, go to bed etc. Not only does this satisfy people, it makes them feel secure and entertained, we even try to recreate this artificially, for example the game ‘Sims’ is all about building your own society, it is like playing with your own life, only with slightly more control.

I decided to take this even further, living by a strict manifesto of only eating orange food in my orange room. While there was a sense of comfort in the limitations this provided, it felt ridiculous and inevitably, made me physically sick. There are many artists who decide to live with such extreme routines - the most famous probably being Gilbert and George. People are infatuated with the mystery around their commitment to structure. Real or not they provoke the idea that structure provides something for humans, even if it is just people's interest in it.

https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/gilbert-george-day-routine-life-453958

Perhaps this obsession with routine is about allowing us time to search for what is really important; our purpose in life. Often people long to turn the mundane into the interesting, which seems both an act of desperation and a form of existential crisis. The thought that there is something beyond us is scary, exciting and somehow important. The artist David Huggins is a 74 year old man who has spent his life painting the extraterrestrial woman who took his virginity and the hybrid human alien-babies this produced. What interests me about him is that he refuses to sell the works of his (fantasy) wife - his paintings are personal objects which form a part of his life, not mere pieces of work.

https://www.theartblog.org/2011/08/david-huggins-an-uncommon-life/

Furthermore, although he has lived his life in what we assume to be half fantasy, he has embedded these alien figures into an ordinary, human life. He is in a monogamous relationship and fathering a family. As much desperation there is to find something beyond humanity, there is still an urge to bring it  back round to what we have created. This led me to draw a series of imagined scenes of aliens performing the daily acts of humans, such as eating dinner.

This is why I am interested in exaggeration; people want to find something new and exciting, but only so they can share it with what human experience we already have. There is an absurdity in how dramatic humans are often tempted to be, it is humorous.

https://www.siff.net/festival/dj-nicfit-presents-fantastic-planet

Inspired by Roland Topor's ‘La Planète Sauvage’, which explores the relationship between human and alien, and his costumes for a production of the ‘Magic Flute’, I decided to knit alien costumes and perform a ballet, green screening it onto a background of the face on Mars.

I decided performance is a good way to dramatise what I am trying to explore, as it relies on amplification and being extravagant. The use of a green screen allows importance to be placed on the movement of the performer and any connections with setting to be removed. By replacing it with the the face on Mars, it represents perfectly what I am interested in, how humans have grasped a familiar figure and celebrated it, in a place full of the unknown.

It is this balance between truth and fiction which really holds my attention. Ultimately, fact and fiction is merely what people claim them to be. If stories are about perspective, how can we deem one version true and another false?

https://www.henson.com/storyteller.php

Folk tales, fables, and legends are interesting here, as the oldest and most famous forms of stories historically. The kids tv programme ‘The Storyteller’ by Jim Henson tells such tales, emphasising the importance of dramatics in storytelling through voice, setting and humour. The opening lines of each episode being;

“When people told themselves their past with stories, explain their present with stories, foretold the stories with stories, the best place by the fire, was kept with for storyteller”.

The act of a story is presented almost like a ritual which affects everyones everyday life, but also something which has a skill to it. As often seen in literature and art, this programme is a story about stories. It is not simply a retelling, there is importance in its own characters and their narrative.

Inspired by my own experiences and stories about being attacked/attacking birds, I researched the greek myths of Icarus, Prometheus and Leda and the Swan. Once again I found myself interested in the dramatic nature of such myths; the dramatic monologues and inevitable rise and fall of characters, the shifting perspectives and interpretations and mostly, the tendency to fabricate something unimportant to transform it into the important. To reflect on this idea, I wrote an essay;

Reflections on swans (and seagulls)

The swan is often considered to be the most beautiful and powerful creature. As described in Yeats’ poem ‘The Wild Swans at Coole’, they are “mysterious, beautiful” and “unwearied”, traits all humans aspire to have. We are in awe of them; as we are tempted by materialism and infidelity, grow cynical and die, their symbolic beauty doesn’t fade: the swan remains monogamous and elegant, living a simple, pure life.

Swans carry a purity in their graceful paddle and colouring as well as symbolising a sort of British greatness. They are believed to be silent until singing a final “swan song” – the pinnacle of their greatness - at their death. Perhaps this and the fact they are owned by the Queen, gives them a mysterious authority. We are taught to admire them from a respectful distance.

However, no matter how blinded by their beauty we are, we know never to forget their power. They are fierce, quick to feel threatened and will “breaking our legs” to protect their young.

This recognition and portrayal of their danger is not a new one. The myth of Zeus disguising himself as a swan to rape Leda has been a prominent tale explored in art for centuries. Although this story uses the swan to represent a cruel and deceiving character, Michelangelo painted it as an intimate and romantic scene, supposedly causing it to be destroyed in the seventeenth century due to its ‘lasciviousness’.

I find Stephen Pearsons’ ‘Wings of Love’, famously known for illustrating the divide between Laurence and Beverly in Mike Lees ‘Abigail’s Party’, reminiscent of this. While ‘Wings of love’ symbolises the progression and divide between romanticism and realism, exposing people for being over consumed with nature while also applauding nature for holding such power, ‘Leda and the Swan’, symbolises the relationship between cruelty and power.

Yeats has also written a poem on this, emphasising a much cruel explanation: “A sudden blow”, “He holds her helpless breast upon his breast”. Immediately we feel the brute force of Zeus raping Leda. However, what becomes surprising as you read on is the threatening softness in which he continues to describe it; “feathered glory”, “thighs caressed”. This seems to perfectly sum up the character of a swan - silent but deadly.

I find this imbalance of opinions peculiar and recurring with swans - perhaps it is only superficial beauty and the fact that the Queen owns them which makes us feel so proud and protective of them? In reality, they are dangerous and cruel.

I once ate a swan after it died flying into an electrical wire on my grandparents’ farm. Its flesh was dark, forbidding and fishy. It was unpleasant and I felt as if I was being let down, as if it was meant to be something life changing when in fact it was vulgar and sickening. I wonder if the pride of national ownership only added to this feeling? It was meant to be an honour to be eat something usually untouchable, admirable and wild; free but royal; yet it was disgusting.

Do we misunderstand all animals, all birds, all nature? We, like the Queen, assert ownership over animals with our pets. Yet we keep them in cages and on leads. We have a hierarchy – swans above seagulls, seagulls above caged budgies. What does it mean and is it more about ourselves than the animals we portray?

I am interested in this and in our relationship to other birds. I wonder if it is the status of Royal ownership which separates swans from the common bird, which we often fear or diminish. We fear birds trapped in houses. In a recent news story, we fear a seagull that stole a woman’s pet chihuahua. Why underestimate the seagull? It is an enemy because it steals our chips and our chihauhuas. But what has changed since the lesson of Prometheus, which warned humans not to be arrogant or misunderstand the natural order of the world? Why are we now taught to hate and disrespect the common bird?

I think we often use nature in art to try to understand and illustrate power complexes and ourselves - there is a craving to understand our place in the world. The conflicting views on swans is an example. In a way, swans are irrelevant to humans, they are in our art because there is a deeper craving to understand something much larger about ourselves. Thinking about this prompted me to make a film about the neglected and maligned seagull; to draw comparisons between the survivalist impulse which exists in these lonely, maligned birds and in lonely, maligned people.

What writing this essay and the script for my film really taught me is that it is the absurdity in the obsession of trying to understand something bigger than us which interests me, whether its natural order or power complexes, the need to exaggerate human importance until we understand such topics seems unavoidable. David Lynch’s new film ‘WHAT DID JACK DO?’ I find represents what I mean here: the nonsensical, circling script of cliches eventually defeats the storyline. Instead, what becomes entertaining and successful is the humorous journey of the dialogue.

netflix.com

In some ways, it seems a critique of stories as they are meant to be, instead suggesting it is the ludicrous way in which we tell them through exaggeration is what becomes the story.

Since realising this, I think what I am really interested in is not just the stories people are telling, but how they tell them that I am attracted to. For example, at my aunt and uncles house there are three stone sculptures of heads on their mantle piece which my uncle found in a skip. He says that in the medieval times they believed murderers all had the same anatomy, and these heads are in fact death masks of murderers used to figure out the bone structure that would possess every murderer. While sat at a candle lit dinner, the heads glowing and watching over us, I was told the story of the severed head. Our family friend had gone to open day for a boarding school and while playing football had kicked the ball into a nearby bush. Going to retrieve it and continue the game, he kicked it out into the playing field. What landed was not the football, but a severed head. The school sent out a small apology letter, but covered up the story and it was never heard about again, except through word of mouth. Becoming its own kind of myth, I hear and retell this story often, surprisingly regularly receiving a similar story in reaction.

I am interested in how to turn such accounts into their own visual stories or pieces of work. I believe one way to do this is to learn what is so interesting in each individual story and focus on this, whether it as obscure as the fact it is so dramatic and making an installation full of shadows and mystery, or as specific as a particular description of an object and recreating it.

I am interested in interactive works; I believe giving a role to the audience to be immersed is very powerful in its effect, especially when exploring storytelling, where the audience and the memories they are left with is half of the experience. Saying that, I believe it should be a memory they are left with only. Often people are interested in taking a physical object away from an artwork, as well as a memory.

https://www.moma.org/learn/moma_learning/yoko-ono-cut-piece-1964/

For example in Yoko Ono’s ‘Cut Piece’, the audience members were invited to come and cut off a piece of her clothing. What is powerful about this performance is not the fact they walk away with a piece of her cloth -  an artefact of such a famous artwork - but the fact they committed the act. The fabric has become the documentation, the intimate act the work. Therefore, I find it more exciting to leave the room empty handed. If there is nothing to tell except for the story of the experience - we are left with a series of interesting experiences and accounts, becoming a story and artwork in itself.

Another way in which we can dramatise is through physical size and dominance. Working on a large scale excites me. Phyllida Barlows' work at the 2017 Venice Biennale felt almost like a stage design. The construction and emphasis on under cladding became the artwork, it was compromised of monumental structures of various, large heights filling the gallery.

https://www.designboom.com/art/phyllida-barlow-british-pavilion-venice-biennale-05-28-2017/

I hope to continue researching storytelling and exaggeration through an interesting, dramatic aesthetic.

[theinquisitivej]

A Quartet of Reviews: Missing Link, Pet Semetary, Shazam!, and Hellboy (2019)

Missing Link

As the technical accomplishments and detailed beauty of Laika’s stop-motion films are part of the reason I’ve chosen to study stop-motion animation for my current academic research, you’ll forgive me if I approach their fifth film with some bias. Plus, box office numbers suggest that a lot more people really should be seeing these, so the more voices there are singing Laika’s praises the better, frankly.

         Missing Link is notably ambitious in that it strives to deliver an action adventure in the vein of Around the World in 80 Days or The Mummy (the Brendan Fraser one, not the “DARK UNIVERSE” one- yes, that did happen, and it is hard to remember), with multiple thrilling and complex action sequences, all in stop-motion. Given the labour-intensive nature of stop-motion and the limitations you’d typically expect of a medium that’s executed through real models that have a weight and substance to them that makes them less flexibly fluid than cel or digital animation, stories with an emphasis on dynamic action aren’t what you’d typically expect when it comes to stop-motion. And yet Laika demonstrate their full commitment to making Missing Link an energetic blockbuster through impressive choreography and painstakingly realised action set-pieces. While the charming characters and light-hearted tone help you stay engaged with the narrative, you’ll be constantly taken back by the seamless merging of traditional methods and modern technology in the animation which makes you sit up and take notice as you wonder how they managed to put together each scene. The best use of digital effects are the times where you’re not entirely certain it’s even there, and Laika’s approach to this modern tool definitely fits in that category.

         The film never quite reaches a point of emotional intensity that leaves me completely floored, as some of Laika’s previous films have managed to do. I didn’t walk away from the film remembering a moment where a character’s vulnerabilities are laid bare or a difficult but essential lesson is imparted in the most brutally earnest way. So, when compared against ParaNorman or Kubo and the Two Strings, Missing Link left less emotional impact on me. Having said that, the film still conveys numerous themes effectively through key story beats and striking visuals, with its central thesis being the importance of learning empathy towards others, and that you shouldn’t seek validation from close-minded proponents of outdated and toxic principles. As such, through a combination of entertaining characters with likable personality, an emphasis on globetrotting action, its refreshingly positive outlook, and tremendous animation on both the large and the small-scale across the board, Missing Link is a delightful adventure that you should make a point of seeing.

Final Ranking: Silver.

Boasting charm, an infectious sense of humour, and perhaps the best action I’ve seen in a stop-motion film, Missing Link absolutely meets the standard of quality that you’d expect from a Laika production.

 Pet Semetary

As many other people discussing this film have noted, Pet Semetary is a Stephen King story that’s notable for being so bleak that even Stephen King felt it was too dark. He hesitated to submit it for publishing for three years, only submitting it when he needed to meet a deadline for a contract. In the subsequent years, King has been critical of the “nothing matters” mentality of the story. With that in mind, as well as the knowledge that several people I follow whose opinions on film I trust were not fond of it, I was prepared for the possibility that I wouldn't enjoy it, but nevertheless open to the film surprising me. After all, Stephen King is a consistently entertaining storyteller, and I’m always interested to see how people adapt his work. For a while, things seemed okay enough. Then it started to drag around the middle, and then it took a hard, fast, ugly turn, descending into the most distasteful experience I’ve had in a cinema this year.

         As that summary indicates, the set-up is intriguing enough. A family move into a new home, and there are little signs that things aren’t quite right around here, as well as the telltale indications of a traumatic past that have left some of the characters with residual hang-ups that they will inevitably be forced to confront, and the tantalising promise of something unnatural on the horizon that will draw our protagonists in as they descend into horror. It’s competent ground laying work, and apart from the horrifying past of one of the character’s being uncomfortably demonising of the sick, and a lack of a distinctive visual style for the film to call its own, I didn’t have many serious issues with the first third or so.

         Once you approach the middle portion of the film, things start to feel protracted. Even if you haven’t seen a trailer or heard the gist of this story and have a decent idea about the trajectory of its narrative, there comes a point where you start to know exactly where things are heading. Discussions of death and what may or may not come afterwards, repeated reminders of how dangerous and unexpected high-speed vehicles on the road outside their house can be, and allusions to some unknowable force that can make impossible things happen which the father of this family absolutely must not approach are all dots that anyone familiar with the phrase “monkey’s paw” can join together with little difficulty. Without an engaging dynamic between characters (a la IT), a self-aware bizarreness that results in humour, or a notable visual style, there’s little to keep you going as you wait for pieces to very, very slowly fall into place.

         And the final act is just awful. It spits course language and nihilistic vitriol with little substance or point to its depictions of pain, misery, and spitefulness other than to wallow in this negativity with nothing else to say. Actors start to abandon any semblance of understated nuance in favour of ham-fisted bluntness, cursing out characters with an intensity that doesn’t feel earned as they clumsily fight against them in a way that lacks any sense of climactic satisfaction, and, because your investment in these characters rapidly drains with each new questionable decision and unlikable action, there’s no tension to these encounters either. There are numerous instances where the actors will do their best to deliver lines of dialogue that try to be shocking or wryly dark, but the material is so poorly thought out that it awkwardly misses the mark in both categories. It’s especially galling as the film spent so much time and effort on getting to this conclusion that it was trying to amp up as this big, horrifying finale that will shake you, when instead it’s just underwhelming and unpleasant without any purpose to itself. I was wishing for it to end, and yet when the credits began to roll, I couldn’t help but ask “wait, is that it?” It’s a limp ending with little meaning that leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

Final Ranking: Cardboard.

Pet Semetary’s first act offers some potential, but that’s all it is: potential. The middle act spends so long getting to where it needs to be and where the audience knows it’s going that, by the time it gets there, it spends what little time it has left on cruel, structureless nihilism without taking any ownership for the unpleasant material it lays down at your feet.

 Shazam!

The DC movies are in a great place right now. I’ve yet to see James Wan’s Aquaman, but from the abundance of positive things I hear about it, as well as the profound impact Patty Jenkins’ Wonder Woman had on audiences, James Gunn and a whole lot of appealing casting choices being attached to the next Suicide Squad film, and the great feelings I have about the energy that the Birds of Prey teaser indicated, I’m very optimistic about the future of DC films. Now that Shazam! has released and proved to be a positively uplifting delight, my outlook on this series is cheerier than ever!

         Hm? What about that Joaquin Phoenix Joker movie? Well... my feelings towards that are… complicated. I’ll save my thoughts on it for another time, but suffice to say, I think the film has the potential to be great, but I worry about the way it will be received, and that the worst crowd will embrace it and take the wrong lessons from it.

         Anyway, for the here and now, Shazam is a refreshing blend of joyous levity and unexpected intensity. The film offers endearing comedy with teens and pre-teens acting like excited kids who enjoy doing dopey things but can still come across as insightful and having an emotional heart to them that makes you happy to spend time with them. But it’s never saccharine and, through a fleshed out script and a cast of sharp young actors and actresses, there’s a clear sense of authenticity which makes these adolescent characters seem grounded and well-observed. Something I appreciated is that, whenever the film goes into background details of the history of magic in this world, grandiose prophecies of mystical destinies, or the villain going into his sinister plans, it’s usually being talked about by grown adults who are taking themselves way too seriously. The best exemplar of this is Mark Strong who plays the villain, Dr. Sivana, with an intensity that deliberately comes across as hammy, and the young characters within the film pick up on this and play off him in a way that deflates his bluster and points out how ridiculous he’s being. As a result, the tone of Shazam! feels like it’s poking good-natured fun at prior DC projects and other big budget action blockbusters where stone faced adults spout clichéd speeches without any sense of self-awareness. It’s an approach that points out how some modes of behaviour that are often associated with maturity and being an adult are actually quite childish when you take a step back. As a superhero film that focuses on the experience of being the age where you’re young enough that you still enjoy being a kid, but old enough that you want to call adults out on their bullshit, Shazam! is impressively realised and fun as hell.

         But for as light-hearted as it can be, Shazam! nevertheless surprises you with the occasional brutal sequence that catches you off guard with such rapidity that I found it relatively shocking. It’s not so detailed, gory, or explicit enough that I’d say it goes too far, but it’s worth bearing in mind before you show it to a particularly young and impressionable viewer. The benefit of these sequences is that the unexpected escalation accentuates how in over his head Billy is when he eventually comes across a situation that’s genuinely dangerous, as, despite his newfound powers, he is still a kid, and he really shouldn’t be facing this kind of thing. Indeed, the film demonstrates an impressive grasp of and dedication towards themes of maturity as Billy faces difficult truths about something he thought he wanted and realises he’s been looking in the wrong place for what he actually craves, as well as develops into a more responsible version of himself that opens up to being part of a group built on mutual trust. There’s a cleverly subtle visual indication of the progress Billy has made by the end of the film where he remembers to lower his head as he walks through a door while in his superpowered adult form. One of the first things Billy does when he first transforms is hit his head on a train door to show how unused he is to this new body. The simple act of Billy seeing the doorframe and lowering his head as he steps through without any hesitation near the end of the film signifies the control Billy has developed over himself and his own actions, making his journey of maturation resonate that much more with me. The impact of shocking dark turns and the firm, confident grasp the film has on its cohesive themes of maturation and finding your place in life elevates Shazam! from a fun time to an uplifting and refreshing story that I think people are going to really enjoy for a long while.

Final Ranking: Silver.

Energetic, full of character, and with a strongly executed theme of maturation, Shazam! is highly recommended. It is perhaps a little longer than it needs to be, which results in the latter parts of the middle section feeling a little drawn out. Having said that, the finale sends a jolt of electricity through you that makes you forget any objections you might have and remember all the positive qualities that make this film so likable.

 Hellboy (2019)

Oof… why did I decide to end this collection of reviews on Hellboy (2019) and write this after three other sections? Sigh… okay, let’s get this over with.

It would be insincere of me to say I'm the most impassioned proponent of the Guillermo del Toro Hellboy films. I found them memorable and atmospheric, and you could certainly feel the characteristic flair from the many people that put their artistic touch on those films to create something unique that marked them out from other comicbook movies, which is especially impressive in the mid-2000s, pre Iron Man era. But after going through the slog that is Hellboy (2019), I think I’m more appreciative than ever of what del Toro and his team managed to achieve.

         For a while, it seemed like this new R-rated version of Hellboy was angling for a more faithful adaptation of the original books by Mike Mignola, given the various interviews that were had about it over the years. Sadly, the final result feels like the result of too many outside influences dictating what the film should feature, culminating in a hodgepodge of a film which regurgitates character beats from the del Toro films, and rapidly stitches together a half-hearted attempt at a King Arthur narrative to fill in the requisite new material (this is your regular reminder to check out The Kid Who Would Be King, a much better modern reinterpretation of Arthurian lore). The presentation is dour, unenthusiastic, and lacks any atmosphere or personality, and that is something you could never accuse either the Mignola books or the del Toro films of lacking. In the whole film, there are only two sequences that stand out, namely the fight with the three giants and the rampage of the hell creatures in London. Even so, the former is a relatively meaningless sequence that contributes very little to the narrative and lifts right out of the film, while the latter is so sadistic and mean spirited that it made me genuinely uncomfortable. It falls flat as both an adaptation of a beloved fictional series that’s brimming with atmosphere, and as a piece of technical filmmaking as well.

         On top of that, when the tone and general philosophy of the film does emerge out from under the rest of the film’s mediocrity, it reveals itself to be genuinely unpleasant. The film opens with narration that rushes through the backstory with Nimue and the Arthurian set-up and does so with foul-mouthed irreverence. There is a bit of humour to someone casually tossing in the odd bit of shitty language as they tell you about ancient history that should be discussed with pomp and circumstance but is instead being discussed with ill-fitting coarseness. However, there needs to be some personality to go along with it, otherwise it’s implied that the swearing is the character and all that’s there to it. In the case of this opening narration, Ian McShane emphasises each fucking swearword and it becomes clear that the dialogue is using this as a crutch in an effort to make the film seem like it has an identity as this edgy superhero movie that’s different because it swears. It’s a juvenile approach that is laughable when you consider how effortless Ryan Reynolds’ delivery in each Deadpool movie has been, which demonstrates how swearing can be used to accentuate genuinely funny jokes and characters, rather acting as the joke in and of itself.

         And this isn’t even the most egregious part of the film either, it’s simply a bad first impression. The worst aspect of the film’s outlook is how virtually every character espouses the notion that you should stop complaining, stop letting things get to or affect you, and stop taking time to process things. This is especially saddening when Hellboy’s father, a character that was played with wonderful vulnerability and heart-aching humanity by the late great John Hurt, tells Hellboy to “grow some balls” and get on with things, making the emotional culmination of their time together on screen essentially boil down to ‘quit your bitching’. Characters in Hellboy (2019) show next to no empathy towards one another, and they continually reinforce the story’s outlook which, whether inadvertently or not, nevertheless encourages a state of being where you never have time to be open or vulnerable with the people around you. It’s profoundly disheartening to watch, and gives little to no thematic or visual sustenance to get you through a runtime that feels far too long.

Final Ranking: Manure.

David Harbour does an admirable job in the lead role and I was happy to at least have a protagonist in this film that captures the gruff sadness and down-to-earth affability of the character of Hellboy. But he’s drowning in limiting makeup and an even more stifling movie that has no visual flair and a boring, miserable narrative. The experience of watching this movie is draining and deflating, and I hope to never revisit it.

[lovemepleaase]

I love your blog! Anyway, I was in tap class today and just,,, harry finds out his s/o has a cool unconventional talent (ex. tap, violin, figure skating, etc.) and he's just,,, so in awe and in love??? ok I've made a fool of myself bye

uh you absolutely have NOT made a fool of yourself???? tf????? i can just imagine it’s fairly new in the relationship, and maybe she’s left the little bag she packed for an overnight (what? it’s not their first date or anything. sure, he only invited her over for some dinner and netflix, but she knows harry and she knows herself and she knows where laying together on his spacious couch is inevitably going to lead and she knows that that is definitely going to lead to him flinging a warm arm over her bare waist, still breathing heavily, and burying his head in the crook of her neck and asking in his sweetest voice if she’ll stay the night, please, pleeeaaassseeee? and harry almost always gets what he wants (especially when he’s just spent so much time between her legs) from her so, better to just have a bag packed for the inevitable right?) on the floor next to his dresser, neatly zipped and tucked away as not to take up much room. and now they’re on the couch and they’re sharing a blanket and he’s got an arm around her shoulders, and he’d normally just be pretty focused on notting hill, but he can feel her shivering, just slightly, against him.he turns to look at her. “you cold?” she sort of scrunches her nose, hesitating a bit. “yeah, kind of. sorry.” he shook his head as he pushed himself up off the couch, grabbing the remote to pause the movie. “no problem— want a jumper?” another nose scrunch. “please? there’s one in my bag— it’s gray.” (she nearly asked for one of his, nearly— were they even at that point yet? she’d ended up with his coats and such before when they’d been out and she’d gotten chilly, or when he’d had something of his laying around in situations like this before, but flat out asking was different. a conscious acknowledgement of transfer of ownership. maybe too much for a casual sleepover— maybe next time.) he headed up the stairs to his bedroom in an endearing little jog; she could hear him a few moments later in the room above, rummaging. she took her phone off the table, thumbing through twitter absentmindedly. “hey,” he said, stopping part way down the stairs, holding the satin pink shoes she’d tied together by their ribbons. “what are these?” she looked up at him, setting her phone to the side. “pointe shoes. i have class tomorrow afternoon.” “tomorrow afternoon?” a small smile appeared on his face. she raised an eyebrow— they never actually talked about it. maybe he had plans. “is that…okay?” the corner of his mouth lifts higher, pronouncing his crooked smile. “yeah, no, that’s….good.” he looked back to the shoes in his hand. “wait, since when do you do this?” she rolled her eyes, sitting up on the couch more. “for like, years.” she paused, thinking about it— it really had been a while. had she not brought it up before? “it takes a while to get en pointe, it’s not like a new hobby.” he walked down the stairs, turning the shoes around in his hand, tapping at the hard, flat toe box, a curious look on his face. he came to sit next to her on the couch, lowering himself onto the squishy cushions slowly, still tapping at the hard toes. “so you just…stand on your toes like this?” she laughed, just barely— he was so in awe. it was nice to have the tables turned for once, to have the international rockstar be looking at her like she was something incredible. “yeah. i mean, i wear pads, but yeah.” he was beaming at her. “how did i not know about this?” she shrugged. “it never really came up, i guess? it’s just a hobby, i don’t, like, perform or anything.” his shook his head. “doesn’t matter. that’s…that’s amazing. can i— can you show me?” (oh. so this was how he felt all the time— like he was on display. the difference was, he enjoyed it.) she felt her face redden slightly. “uh— maybe not here. or not right now, anyway. maybe tomorrow i can…i don’t know, warm up here, or something.” he nodded slowly. “that’s…that’s amazing. do you know how amazing that is? it must take so much practice! i can’t believe you never told me…” she felt her cheeks get warm again at his rambling— he was so in awe, of what? the thing she did a few times a week for fun? “it’s not that awesome, plenty of people do it…” he set the shoes on the table, throwing his arm back around her. “you’re the only person i know of that does.” he smiled at her. “i think it’s awesome.” she huffed, leaning back into him and hitting the play button on the remote. “thanks. let’s just watch this, yeah?” a beat or two passed before he turned to look at her again. “that makes you pretty flexible, yeah?” she frowned. “i guess. why?” he nodded, looking back to the tv. “definitely keep that up then.” she blushed at the boyish insinuation— sometimes the regular twenty-four year old in him showed.she elbowed him. “that’s gross.” the arm around her tightened as she saw him grin in her peripheral vision. “you like it.” (she liked him, that was for sure. she’d be willing to put up with his dumb, pervy comments for a very long time as long as it came with everything else, all the pet names and adoring looks and arms around the waist and gentle kisses.)(there was maybe another word that crossed her mind sometimes when she thought about how she felt, even if he was acting like a boy, but she put that away for another time, somewhere in the maybe not-so-distant future.) “yeah, maybe.”