#i have absorbed it as canon so completely it feels like mine but i think i stole it

[tornioduva]

GERUDO REDESIGN - Physique part 1

Hey there! so, welcome to the first part of this design journey. it'll probably be quite long, already i wanted to make the first post with a full page of illustrations, but i managed to do only the first part, uhuh.

This redesign will be divided into sections, the first one being the bodies and appereance of this women.

Before starting with vomiting ideas, a few clarifications:

The main goal of this redesign is to make them less of a biproduct of our world's racism and sterotypes and a more grounded species of its own, with more defined characteristics and distinctions from regular humans.

In Hyrule there are many different species with their own characteristics. while the Gerudo are a different species, i personally consider them a subspecies of, without a better in-universe term, Humans, the macro category that includes them, Hylians and Sheika.

When i talk about average characteristics of them, it means that those are the most common and defining of the whole species, but exceptions can and do exists, sometimes even in large numbers, though maybe sparse.

this is a silly experiment of mine, an excuse to excercise while sharing it. many of my ideas will probably be flawed and i never intend for them to be considered "the right way of doing things", they are just my subjective opinion on the matter.

With that said, let's begin!

In the Zelda Canon, Gerudos as a species are defined by:

being able of birthing only women

generally taller than hylians

generally of dark orange skin tone (but as shown in later games, that too also varies), also a mix of middle eastern/african facial traits

resilient enough to endure the harsh conditions of the desert with less equipment than your average Hylian (kinda)

The poity noses seamlessly attached to their forehead

This list alone (hoping i haven't missed something) does not a good job in differentiating them from just a segregated group of regular hylians, just with brown skin and some genetic peculiarities, and thus the icky part. I don't want to reinvent them completely, but to craft a more (to me) interesting species of people out of these bases. Their appeal definitely skyrocketed with the Tears of the wild; though their improvement is mostly in their cultural and aesthetical display of things, there are some things in how they look that i'd like to keep.

Now, onto my first main changes:

I know, sorry if you expected something more drastic. the fact is, i love the way they look in Tears of the wild, and to change them more it would feel too much like making a up a new species to me. so i wanted to build off their canon appeareance.

They are already quite tall (Urbosa canon height seems to be around 6.7 ft, and many cited a girl in a bar lamenting being 8 ft tall)...but i say why not taller. and bigger too! I honestly prefere the idea of them being somewhat giant beings, that impose themselves by presence alone. as they are, yes, in the game you feel the height difference, but somehow it got mundane pretty quickly. so again, with the goal of making them much more striking and distinct from other humans, they are on average much taller and with bigger proportions now!

Another feature that stood out to me in the games was their often really pronounced hips, with these protruding pelvic bones. that is a nice idea i think, so i decided to keep that on average, Gerudo have really protruding hips with really deep dips before the thigh. Probably i could've exaggerated that part even more, i'll try to going forward.

Body hair. here we go, this is the main idea and the thing that may ruffle the most feathers. I thought about what else could make them more striking than they are, then about the fact they always expose so much of their skin to hars conditions, and came up with the idea of giving them a lot of body hair. All this hair has the property of not only maintaing some body warmth and protecting the skin, but it also absorbs the cold of the night and balances it out. i don't know how it would work (magic hair!) but i think it could be neat that their survivability could be tied somewhat to their hair and how much they have of it. On a technical level, to sell this concept even more i think i should'ave covered her even more, but i'm already at my limit since i hate body hair ahah. you're free to draw you're own with fur on it.

A thing that is not represented here for clearness sake, but that will be explored later on, is that they also have facial hair! the way they style it will be in the culture section, but in my interpretation they can also have a beard and moustaches.

One last thing, Muscles. The way the games portray them, especially in Tears of the wild, make it seem like they naturally become shredded while growing up (aside from some chubby ones, but i guess the muscles might still be there, just covered). If that's the case, i honestly do not like it. Sure, it may be that they are naturally a species of naturally muscular women, but i think this misses the oppurtunity of making them more interesting for it. In my interpretation, they are for sure naturally strong, but mainly do to their height; task that a normal hylian would struggle with sure are easier if you're 3 meters tall! They do not acquire definition naturally though, that's entirely u to culture, living conditions and training regimes, which will be explored later on.

Ears. This is the thing that may change the most going forward since i'm not entirely sure, buuut...i don't like it that much that they have the same ears as hylians now. it's not that big of a deal, plus it has a pretty believable explanation, but i prefere a middle ground. Yes, millenias of evolution annd interbreeding with other humans has led to a difference in ears, but i prefere for it to be slightly elongated round ears instead of just elf ones.

And that's it for now, i think it's already a pretty long post uhuh. In the next part i want to explore (with drawings of course) skintones, facial fatures (noses my beloved!), hair colors and maybe something more.

Let me know if you like my ideas so far, i'd love nothing more than to start a discussion and to see other people's ideas flow freely! or to just criticize mine, uhuh.

[sapphickittykatherine]

obviously, if you want to characterise someone differently or have a different perception of a character to mine, or want to give a character more personality by adding something to them - that's totally fine. but, personally, this is how i see lancelot (from bbc merlin) and, bc i'm completely insane about him, my eye starts twitching whenever someone characterises him differently. it's literally not a problem i'm just off my rocker

canon lancelot

lancelot?? flirting casually??? this man is a hopeless romantic but he has two modes: silent pining, and outright declaring, "i will die for you." btw silent pining also involves being prepared to die for his beloved, just not saying it. he gets tongue-tied when someone he likes flirts with him and he might try to be bold enough to flirt back, but it will be awkward and super romantic, even if such flirting is out of place. any casual flirting he does is purely by accident, and he doesn't even realise that anyone with eyes can see he's clearly romantically interested; the man thinks he's subtle. he might also just freeze up and retreat into his shell. either way, he's blushing - hard. the secret third option is that he doesn't notice the flirtation, or he does and thinks he's misconstruing it bc why would someone like them want to flirt with him, so he brushes it off.

lance having sexual experience and being unashamed regarding sex???? nahhhhhh sorry. if he has sexual experience, he has bucket loads of (potentially religious) guilt about it and never talks about it. i can definitely see him cracking and, like, engaging in a bit of drunken frottage and trying to forget that it ever happened, but other stuff? not so much. he is also highly likely to save himself for marriage, or at least 'the one'. also he's shy and super subby, sorry. however: if someone he loves and is in a relationship with propositions him, he'll be all shy and question them a million times as to whether they're sure they want to do this, but be super enthusiastic. like, borderline if not outright worshipping. he'll let someone he loves do whatever they want with him, and thank them even if he hates it. he will be insanely honoured by the fact that someone chose to share that part of themself with him. sex is a big deal to him.

lancelot du lac. being confident. uh. the only time this man is at all confident is when he has a sword in his hand. any other time, he's reserved and tries to blend into the shadows. he's too humble and thinks too lowly of himself to attempt to stand out in any capacity. he enjoys being appreciated for his sword fighting, but he might think that it's arrogant and self-absorbed to feel that way. any time his head inflates even a millimetre, he takes a fucking hammer to it. his self-sacrificial bullshit is not only due to wanting to stop people from being hurt, because he's "the bravest and most noble of them all", but also because his self-esteem has hit bedrock and he feels like his life is worth less than everyone else's. in his head, the only thing he's good for is dying for a cause.

on that note, he's sad as fuck. like, probably depressed to be honest. he silently goes though a full-blown existential crisis every 48 hours. he thinks he's not good enough; he thinks the world has so many problems and he's not good enough to change that; simultaneously, he thinks he's not good enough to live in the world alongside much better people; he thinks no one really cares about him and if they do he's somehow tricked them into feeling that way. suicide might seem like a cowardly thing to do, to him, because he could die for a cause instead of no reason. since his life is basically worthless, in his mind, if he doesn't have a heroic death then he has nothing. he won't stab himself in the gut but he will walk into the veil between the land of the living and the spirit world in order to close it!

as for a highly contentious point: lance is simultaneously chaotic and not. i believe that this is due to his sense of goodness overriding even his respect for the rules, at times. for instance, magic is banned in camelot, where he wants so desperately to serve as a knight, but he doesn't see why magic is wrong so he overlooks that rule and keeps merlin's secret, especially since he thinks merlin is so kind. in his opinion, the knight's code is "the code by which a man should live his life", so he's highly unlikely to disobey rules which he agrees with. people often point to the identity fraud 1x05 as a sign that he's actually very chaotic, and i agree but i also don't. lancelot was desperate to become a knight; it was his life's dream. he wanted a chance to prove himself. when he received his chance but wasn't allowed to be a knight regardless, he was overcome by guilt to the point that he abandoned his dream. he blames himself for having done so instead of turning any of the blame on merlin, who suggested it and helped him execute it. if he didn't think it was wrong to have lied, he wouldn't have been so adamant that it wasn't merlin's fault. he thinks that it was wrong, and he alone should be punished for that wrong. he likely sees it as an instance of allowing his own desires and his ego to get the better of him, thereby proving to him that he isn't worthy of being a knight (because he broke the code). he has to "prove it to himself" that he is a worthy knight. basically, i think that lancelot is lawful good, but he values good above lawful, and might seem somewhat like neutral good for that reason. he is deferential to power and doesn't want to lead, but rather to serve. he believes in systems (e.g. the knights of camelot) and their ability to bring good. however, if he sees that these systems are failing to bring about good in a specific instance, he will stand up for what is right; not to abolish those systems, but to change them. even if he may later beat himself up about it and question his own right to make such a call. he wants desperately to serve under a man like arthur, who listens to others and whom he believes will make the right decisions in his position of power. he, in no way, wants to be arthur's equal.

additional traits

IF i wanted to give him more personality, i would draw inspiration from arthuriana (which i do not claim to know much about). i'd make him socially awkward and unaccustomed to social customs and expectations, due to being raised by fae beneath a lake. also possibly because he's got low self-esteem and doesn't interact with others much due to thinking himself 'unworthy' of their attention. he'd probably be overly stiff and polite once learning about customs because he sticks to them too rigidly, but regularly trips up due to never being told about something or other. also he full-on ugly cries every ten seconds, bc that's how he is in the texts and honestly we should carry that over. let the tough man cry.

i might also make him an insane murderer who thinks he's a terrible person for all the wrong reasons. like, "i failed to ninety degree bow to the queen because i broke my back!!!!! how will i ever face her again??? i should kill myself. oh yeah, that corpse they found in the lower town was my work." why?? 1) because fae are fucking brutal. e.g. they'll blind someone for looking at them when they'd rather they didn't. 2) he's one of the best knights and one of the best killers. because knighthood = honour in his mind, and honour is everything to him, and knighthood involves killing, killing = honourable.

"average person kills 3 people a year" factoid actualy just statistical error. average person kills 0 people per year. Bloody Lance, who lives under a lake & kills over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted"

the only thing lance has confidence in is his fighting prowess. he comes alive when he's fighting, and his shyness melts away for a while bc there's nothing quite like righteous slaughter. lancelot thinks that bringing someone the severed head of a Bad Person is a nice gesture, bc he's 'ridding the world of evil' or something (read this). if someone patted him on the head and called him good for killing the baddie, he'd probably blush and duck his head and try not to be super pleased with himself, bc that's 'arrogance' and all.

if i still wanted him to still be Super Noble (which i almost always do), he'd be more of a vigilante who enjoys slaughtering bad people than a serial killer. he'd be super sweet to innocents and lovely to children and people who can't fend for themselves, but essentially the medieval bogeyman for baddies. he might not see the issue with finding murder enjoyable, due to being raised by fae, but if he does, then he keeps his enjoyment locked in a chest which he throws into the deepest part of the ocean. in that case, someone realising he enjoyed killing would be a source of great shame for him and they might be able to blackmail him using it. imagine all the guilt regarding how much he loved cage fighting?? imagine an outsider's pov of him turning from an unfailingly polite, gentle, softly spoken man into a ruthless killer staring at his opponent's body with empty eyes, and back again.

edit: also also!! (bc i have more to say ;-;) think of him being dog-coded. like, he doesn't particularly take joy in killing, but if his liege asks him to kill, he'll do so gladly. he wants to serve and he wants approval and he wants to be seen as a Good Boy. please pat him on the head, especially if your name is guinevere.

anyway i need to write lots of fics so i can set my Agenda into motion. ultimately, i think it's important to remember that lance is just a little guy <3 and i wouldn't usually characterise him as a ruthless killer lol

[gisellelx]

Since tomorrow is Father’s Day (and also Edward’a birthday I think?) can you share some sappy headcannon moments about Carlisle and Edward?

Ohhhhh anon. Thank you for this. My heart, here it all is spilled out on paper. I am making NO APOLOGIES for the length of this post. You knew what you were getting into, here. And have I got a treat for you about my headcanon and this particular date: First, you must understand that because of the ole' sideblog, I have a very detailed headcanon about where Carlisle is at any given time so that there aren't continuity errors. This is actually one of the fun things about fanfic vs. profic--in profic, at least in contemporary YA, my genre, you are trying to minimize references to actual events and time lest your work not be timeless. But I have a really detailed outline of when all my characters exist; I find I can't write any other way. This is why SM is so baffling to me--it's so clear she just has like, blank gray clouds for any time any given character isn't on screen. Nah. I have backstories for days on even my minor characters. I always know where all of them are. In fic, I get to fully indulge that because no one has to figure out if the fic will still sell five or ten years from now if it makes a dated reference to the new iPhone. So I can set the characters precisely in time, and imagine how exact dates and events affect their lives right then. Carlisle and Esme have been in Wisconsin; the children are all living as individual couples in southern France. You can thank Foi Pur for the headcanon that the Cullens own a home in Toulouse. They were stationed there while Carlisle was practicing in Bergamo early in the pandemic, and the children stayed there while Carlisle followed the outbreaks and Esme refused to leave his side (even though he begged her to). They came to the U.S. last summer; they haven't lived here since they left Forks 8 years ago. The borders have been closed; they haven't seen the rest of the family since then. On June 9, 2021, France opened the borders to vaccinated Americans. As case counts have receded, Carlisle has shifted to being a more standard hospitalist, with the usual 7 days on, 7 off schedule instead of taking off to say, Mumbai, because he bought Esme their old house and she's busy with it. He's working that schedule at two hospitals though, so basically is never off-duty. As soon as France announced their change, he went to both CMOs and said he was taking time off to see his family. He had to finish working that week, and then had to work his next "on" week at the other hospital, which meant that June 19 was the earliest he could possibly travel. In other words, the actual world, and the very real constraints of the kind of work I envision Carlisle to be doing, have converged on the fact that Carlisle and Esme touched down in their private jet at Castres airport early this morning Central European Time. On Father's Day. And Edward's 120th birthday. Everybody met them. There were lots of non-liquid tears. Edward hopped on Sotheby's the moment the news dropped on June 4 and rented an estate in Saint-Tropez that is costing them a quarter of a million dollars a week but it's private and they can all be outside. They got there this morning and are throwing Edward an extravagant party this evening, and Carlisle hasn't been more than six feet from Edward for the last twelve hours. Edward's patience with this is going to tire by midday tomorrow, but for now, he's enjoying Carlisle's attention. (It's 7:30 PM in Saint-Tropez as I write this; they're in the thick of gift-giving.) In other words, these boys could not possibly be happier this particular Father's Day.

So that's the big, fun, sappy, timely hc. Here's some others:

Edward is an only child. There, I said it. Carlisle and Esme talk about having six children and will never in a million years admit, even to themselves, that they actually only have one child. But they treat Edward like he is their only child, and Carlisle thinks of him as separate from the rest. He certainly loves him more.

Edward gets very pouty if anyone but him celebrates Father's Day. Most of the others are very "whatever" about it but Carlisle and Rosalie do have a very father/daughter relationship and so she also likes to honor him on Father's Day. Because Edward is Edward, he assumes she's doing this just to annoy him and it's one more hash mark on the "Rosalie is a bitch" bingo card.

They are best friends as well as father and son. Their relationship is always both/and. It often turns on a dime--they're having a raucous, bawdy time one moment and then something triggers Edward and they are in full-on father/son comfort mode the next. Everything in their relationship happened very offhandedly. The first time Carlisle told Edward he loved him, it was by accident: he thought it while they were playing in the woods a few months after Edward's turning. Edward came to a stop so fast Carlisle almost crashed into him. Carlisle then said the words aloud for the first time.

Edward didn't return those words for nearly a year. Again, it was almost an afterthought: he was thanking Carlisle for a new phonograph and the words "I love you" just slid out. Carlisle almost spontaneously combusted.

The first time Edward called Carlisle his father, they were still living as a man and his brother-in-law. He came home excitedly, having bought tickets to the new moving picture house in town. He was telling Carlisle the story, excited that he felt confident enough to sit in a closed room with a crowd of humans, and mentioned he had bought two tickets because as he'd told the ticket seller, he thought his father would like to come. He was surprised when Carlisle started crying. Edward and Carlisle almost never fight. When they do, it is vicious. Edward is the only family to have ever seriously injured Carlisle; Carlisle has a long gash across his left collarbone and down his left scapula from the most serious attack in 1927. Edward hates it when Carlisle thinks about them. Carlisle has never broken Edward's skin, but there've been a handful of times they've had very tense conversations while Carlisle had him in a half nelson.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, can wound Carlisle more than Edward having a teenaged fit and screaming, "You're not my father!" Edward knows this, but sometimes his brain short circuits and he does it anyway. This has happened only a handful of times and each time it's taken years to repair.

Carlisle was touch-starved for so long that he is very touchy-feely with Edward. Edward is perpetually seventeen and does not like to be cuddled, hugged, or kissed. They met in a place that is nowhere near the middle where Carlisle occasionally puts his arm around Edward. Like, once or twice a year.

This changed a little bit when Renesmee became a teenager and started rebuffing Edward's physical affection. He came to Carlisle and complained about how she never wanted to be hugged anymore and Carlisle laughed so hard he choked. Edward has gotten a little better about being hugged since then. Renesmee has been very good for their relationship in lots of ways, not the least of which has been that it has helped them both view Edward as more of an adult. Anyway. I could go on for days. These details are always lurking, and they're sprinkled throughout any fic I write. Love these boys so much. They are such a fantastic duo to write. Happy Birthday, E.

Happy Father's Day, C.

[shipsandlattes]

So I know everyone has already dissected this scene to its core, but it’s taken me a good 48 hours to digest this and I just needed to get it out.

I’m an aspiring actor, I’ve been training for a long time, with a lot of amazing teachers. I’ve watched a lot of shows and shipped a lot of couples. Some of them beautiful and canon, others, well, let’s just say waiting 22 years and counting for acknowledgement, closure, anything, it’s a damn challenge. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of will-they-wont-they’s, baiting, purposeful ignorance, deliberate fake outs, zero explanations, storylines that basically caused canon disintegration, the works.

In saying that, Dean and Cas were right up there on the list with the other “impossibles” because honestly, I didn’t think the writers would have the guts to do it, but I am so f*cking proud they did. It’s safe to say I’ve watched the scene a good hundred+ times already. 

I’ve seen a lot of “controversy” around Dean’s reaction/Jensen’s acting choices and whether or not Dean reciprocates Cas’ feelings, and obviously, I needed to add my own views to the mix.

Just work with me for a minute here.

Dean Winchester is an emotionally repressed trainwreck, and ironically enough, the one that is so full of emotion it hurts to watch. When Cas first starts his speech, he’s confused, really confused because why on earth would Cas start off on a rant now? Billie’s waiting to kill them, he just said he knew something that was more powerful than she was, something that could save them. That’s where he thought this speech was going.

The confusion turns to realisation that it’s a goodbye when Cas starts telling him how incredible he is, how his entire essence is love. Go back and watch the scene again, when Cas says “you’re the most caring man on Earth”, you physically see Dean look down, his eyes searching, he’s actively trying to make sense of what’s happening, he knows what’s coming and you can see him coming to terms with the shock of the words being said to him. He then looks directly at Cas. That look, that was pure shock.

Also, notice how he doesn’t stop Cas from talking? He doesn’t interject, make a joke, doesn’t talk about how there is no time for this now, they’ve got to at least try and stop Billie. He. says. nothing. He listens, he listens like I’ve never seen Dean listen before. Because it’s sinking in now.

When Cas really starts crying, when he says “you changed me, Dean”, you can actually see the pain in Dean’s eyes. He’s no longer in control of his emotions, he’s crying too. He’s never seen Cas like this, so raw, and vulnerable and human. This is the hardest, most emotional conversation they’ve both ever had. They are talking about the one thing that everybody knows, but is never addressed. When it wasn’t talked about, they could deny it, live in the lie. Once it’s said aloud, it’s real and they can’t turn back.

This above series of interactions is the part that kills me the most. The moment Cas says “because it is”, that’s the exact moment of realisation. Look at that last GIF, really look. He’s just worked it out, that he is Cas’ true happiness. He knows what’s coming before Cas even says it. Go back and watch the scene again, they pulled that off so well, the way the music swells at this exact moment. Jensen is giving us everything here, you can see what’s happening in his head - he is Cas’ happiness. He is the one thing on Earth Cas wants and thinks he can’t have. He is the reason Cas is about to die. He knows what Cas is about to say and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it, not now, not like this. It’s almost a silent plea not to say it, because he knows. Of course he knows. It’s like he can’t quite believe Cas is really, after all this time, finally going to say it.

And because obviously Jensen decided that that wasn’t enough to break us, the loaded reaction when Cas says “I love you” has me nothing but convinced that it’s reciprocated. Because Dean knows. He’s always known. Those tears, that head tilt, that gulp. He’s so genuinely confused that they’re really having this conversation. It’s like he can’t quite believe that this is the reality before him because he’s been living in that denial, in that self-loathing and unlovable layer he believes to be true. He’s been under the ‘what if... but it could never be’ umbrella for so long. 

What also makes this real is that there isn’t anyone else around this time. When “I love you’s” have been said before, they have always been able to deflect it, with other people or other words. Now it’s just the two of them. No deflecting, no running away. Dean is forced to hear it, to absorb it, to realise it’s for nobody else but him.

Now, I don’t know if you guys felt this, but when Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas”, he wasn’t just referring to Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty, he’s telling Cas that he can’t just say this, not now, knowing he’s going to die, knowing that Dean won’t get a chance to think, to process, to say what he needs too. I keep staring at that GIF above, Dean is breaking down, I’m almost convinced that Jensen was using an “I love you too, please just stop this” inner monologue for this bit. Look at the way he’s looking at Cas before he realises the Empty has started materialising and turns around. That’s a look of pure heartbreak. Trust me when I tell you, it’s really hard to keep those inner thoughts inside if you’re so in the moment - actually, don’t just take my word for it, read any acting book, ask any actor, it’s so hard to keep that in and sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you do - it’s in both the resistance and the letting go that the gold happens. This my friends, is gold. 

Did anyone else hear “Cas, I-”, well, regardless of whether or not it was an “I” or a very sharp breath, the outcome is the same. Dean’s gone into immediate panic mode. The Empty at one end and Billie at the other, and all poor Dean wants to do is gather his thoughts on not what to say but how to say it. I don’t think he comprehended just how little time he had, he was so focused on what was being said that the reality of the situation caught him completely off guard.

Also, I know this post was about dissecting Dean’s reaction, but can we sidebar a minute to talk about Cas as he pushes Dean out of the way? He’s sobbing, he’s fully crying. That hit me really hard, I’ve never seen Cas cry like that, I’ve never seen Misha get to play that level of emotion before and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch since The Doctor and Rose and Buffy and Spike, to which by the way, I find many parallels between those couples and this scene.

Speaking of crying, that brings me to this: Dean slumped on the floor, ignoring a call from Sam, sobbing his heart out knowing he’s lost everything. Dean-I’m-emotionally-unavailable-Winchester is sobbing. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever seeing Dean cry like this before either, the sobbing was so evident and piercing in that silence. The look around the room, the burying of his head in his hands, that is a classic writers romantic love trope if I’ve ever seen it, they really pulled out all the stops with this one.

So, to summarise, I think Jensen’s choices and Dean’s reactions were absolutely and utterly perfect. They both did it so well that it didn’t break from character that these two emotionally distant and repressed men are in love and finally voicing it. Jensen barely said two words and still managed to cause mass coronary’s across the fandom. That my friends is what you call a brilliant actor. I bow down to the talents of these two amazing human beings.

Before I leave this novel, I have to say there are now a few things I’m going to need from the powers that be to not screw this up, help me manifest this:

1. Dean gets to reciprocate his feelings to Cas in person. So, I’m gonna need Cas back and a very emotional Dean.

2. Dean to be actively dealing with heartbreak in the next episode (unless they decided to bring Cas back that soon, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point).

3. Sam to confront Dean about his feelings for Cas, because out of everyone, he’d be the one to hit Dean with the truth of his fears. Sam knows. Sam is supportive. Sam sees it all.

4. I’m gonna need some physical affection, cause after 12 years of nonsense, we damn well deserve it. A hug, and not just any old reunion hug, a proper, this is different now hug. A kiss because hello, in love out loud now. Forehead touching, handholding, really gonna need the works here.

5. A happy ending for the two of them, one way or another. We’ve never had one, it’s time.

Okay, have at it now, let’s speak these into existence please.

Note: GIFs are not mine, I did not make them, credit to owners who I’m not sure of, but they’re beautiful, thanks for making them. EDIT: I’ve just been informed that these gorgeous gifs belong to @michaeldean​ and @inacatastrophicmind​! 

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

Flufftober Day 2: (Alt prompt) Slow Dancing

Here’s today’s snippet for Flufftober. Today’s prompt was "you've told your parents?" which felt weird as both Terran and Raymond's parents are not around at all. So I went with the alt prompt Slow Dancing. From @flufftober 's prompt list. I’m using the characters from Syndicate. These scenes are non-canon and written simply to practice with lighter content. Let me know if you want to be tagged in future responses for this event!

--

A/N: Okay for some reason they’re at a dance. I think they’re infiltrating it for some reason because that’s more fun and otherwise I don’t think I can get Terran to do anything, stubborn idiot.

--

Blending in while scanning the crowd and keeping an eye out wasn’t too hard a task. I knew how to make myself unnoticeable— I prefer completely unseen, but I can go through a crowd easy enough. How you carry yourself, how much eye contact to make, how to dance through varying motion.

Raymond did none of that. His method seemed more akin to getting comfortable. Just as I was scouting out a good place to take a minute to absorb the crowd, he disappeared.

Shouting out his name was obviously out of the question, so now I had to look for him, but thankfully he wasn’t far and had paused to let me catch up.

“What’re you doing?” I asked when I was close enough to not shout.

“Look at the spread,” he said, turning to the long table that lines one wall. Towers of cookies, tarts, fruits, and other small foods decorated it. He picked up a yellow circle. “Mini quiches.”

I looked around, checking, checking. “Never had one.”

“Then try it,” he said, handing one to me and then picking up another and taking a bite. “Hm. Not the best.” He glanced at me, then leaned in. “Terran, stop looking around. We’re supposed to blend in.” I took the quiche. I was definitely looking around in an inconspicuous way. “I’m just—“

“What do you think?” He spoke at the same time, gesturing to the quiche.

I was just checking, making sure nothing unexpected was happening, is what I was going to say. But arguing was definitely suspicious conversation, and people were pretty close— mostly in motion, passing and jostling against me. But enough were similarly standing around the food table that I wasn’t going to reveal much. I relented and took a bite of quiche.

It was indeed not the best, not that I knew what a good quiche was like. “Is this just bland scrambled egg in pie crust?” I asked.

“This one definitely is,” he said. He took a few steps over to a trash can and tossed it, then grabbed a cookie.

Even though it wasn’t great, I hadn’t had much to eat, and there was almost a bite left. So I finished mine, not able to help but glance around the crowd as I did. While my attention was elsewhere, a hand touched my arm and I jumped.

It was just Raymond. Of course. He withdrew his hand, but stepped closer. Softly, he said, “Very inconspicuous.”

“I’m not used to doing this with someone else,” I said making excuses. I hated that I’d jumped. I should have been aware of him getting close and not been surprised.

He finished his cookie. “Come on,” he said, at least not annoyed. I followed his lead, across the floor, expecting us to be going somewhere but he stopped in the middle of the floor and turned towards me. In normal volume he held a hand out to me. He raised one eyebrow at me, knowing I couldn’t refuse the question without standing out: “Dance with me?”

I took his hand and let him bring me closer. “I don’t really know dances,” I said.

“You don’t need to,” he said. He slid his arm over mine, resting it on my shoulder. Somehow it felt closer than it was when we’d hugged, even though we weren’t quite touching. My stomach knotted up. My hand pressed against his back, and I could feel the shifting of his shoulder muscles. “Relax,” he reminded me. I wasn’t even scouting, my eyes were locked on him, every sense was on him, not our surroundings. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

In a way, he was right. Dancing together was, in this situation, a decent way to blend in.

He guided my other hand to rest on his side and rested his own on my shoulder. He was really warm, I could feel it through his vest, and he was keeping steady eye contact the whole time. The smile that had been a bit challenging before relaxed into what seemed like simply calm happiness.

“Just sway and turn a bit,” he said, guiding it, and I started to feel the music that I’d hardly paid mind to before. It moved with his movement, flowed with it, his foot landed when a note did.

I forgot about blending in. I forgot what we were doing. I didn’t forget about how close we were, or that I was touching him, but being aware of it stopped making my heart race. My eyes didn’t stay locked with his, but stayed on him— his hair was neater than normal but stuck up in a few places, and he was wearing a vest over a white button-down, no tie and the top button undone to show just a hint of collarbone. My hand moved a bit, stroking the fabric, holding into him.

“Feel better?” He asked after a moment.

“I felt fine.” I said, because I hadn’t felt bed before, just normal. I did feel better— maybe, I wasn’t sure exactly, just that I felt something and it was good and that was better.

His arms around my shoulders tightened, pulling me in closer. He was smiling, still, as if he’d forgotten how to stop. “You’re so stubborn.”

I took his word for it. “Dancing’s not too bad, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Someday I’ll get you to dance for real,” he said. “You can cheat a bit at slow dancing.”

I had the urge to argue, to say no way was he getting me to dance more than this. But I didn’t want to ruin it. Didn’t want to break the moment of him with his arms around me, and my arms around him, absorbing him and moving to the music. “Maybe,” I said.

He stared at me another moment, still with that smile, considering saying something, but deciding against it. Instead, he came in a bit closer, leaned his head on my shoulder, hooking his chin on my shoulder. The space between us had closed and I brought my arms further around him, and this was closer to our hugs but still following the music.

--

Flufftober Taglist (ask to be +/-)

@puzzleddragon02

@sleepy-night-child

@drippingmoon

[fanficmemes]

Okay, I finally have a CAS fic! So a friend of mine on Discord was like 'oh you like FMA:B? You like weird biology? BOI do I have a fic for you!' And instead of a link she sends me a PDF of a FF.net fic she saved in like 2012. That was my first warning.

TW: medical torture of all kinds, insides on the outside lovingly described, mpreg but not really?

So in the prologue Hohenheim (dad of the protagonists Ed and Al) leaves home but instead of wandering around for 10 years Father (main antagonist, demigod who wants to be full-god) finds him immediately and straight up eats/absorbs him, then finds Ed and Al and nabs himself some kids, since now he has Hohenheim's emotions after absorbing him, so he now also cares about his sons. This is not a good thing.

First chapter is a timeskip, we see Mustang and his team (primary allies in canon) raiding Lab 5, all kinds of monsters running around, and he comes into a lab and finds two kids (Ed&Al) skeletal-starving, one missing an arm and one missing a leg. They look human but are clearly experiments, and Mustang scoops them up and beings them home like stray puppies. Of course, they are traumatized to hell and back, scream and bite whenever anybody approaches them, won't eat because the scientists poisoned their food, won't speak because they were beaten if they did, and they were vivisected more than once, healed up and then done again. There are some experiment notes bit not detailed. The details come later.

So Mustang's trying to keep them alive without scarring them even further, and meanwhile Father is like 'Envy, my kinda-DIY-child, remember those children of my dear friend I entrusted to you? How are they doing?'

And Envy, who gave the kids to the worst sadists he could think of because he was jealous of them, and is now convinced they are dead and burned to death: 'Um, funny you should mention that.'

So Father is furious and goes to kill Mustang, but instead finds Ed and Al on death's doorstep and not really interested in cooperating with those who want to keep them alive, so he kidnaps all three of them and takes them to his lair. Then he starts talking about how he's done all kinds of experiments taking people apart and changing them inside and out, and how the best life support system is another living being.

This is the part where it gets explicit.

So he cuts Mustang open and starts rearranging his insides in preparation to shove two 5yo in his abdomen. This goes on for 12 pages and, biologically, it holds water better than 99% of ABO fics. I do not know how to feel about this. So Ed and Al are hooked up on Mustang's respiratory/circulatory/digestive systems like coma patients on life support. A few swishes of healing alchemy later, Mustang's awake and housing two baby xenomorphs. First thing he demands is that he gets back to work.

He tries not to panic by rationalising that this just like a pregnancy (hence the mpreg warning) and women go through this all the time, he's a soldier and an alchemist, he survived worse, he's TOTALLY FINE. (You know how bad it is when mpreg is the less squicky option).

Of course, you can't just shove two 5yo kids in a man's abdomen and expect things to go smoothly (what is this, a fanfic?). One of them kicks and you got a ruptured liver. Father rushes in and makes adjustments. Perforated bowel, pleural effusion, all kinds of medical disasters that need fixing, and every time Father is elbow deep in Mustang's guts you get an in-depth, really fetishistic description of everything that's happening. I think the author was an actual doctor and I hope to never meet them on a surgical table.

And inbetween those 'adjustments' Father tells his shapeshifter son (Envy) to turn into Mustang, complete with kids in the belly, and fucks him stupid. Envy's biggest problem with that is that he has to wear Mustang's face for it.

The fic ends there, presumably because the author ran out of medical procedures.

(I hope I'm not late for CAS, this took forever to type up)

What the SHIT this would make the most fucked up low budget horror movie 8.5/10 the last few paragraphs took me out

[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [4]

(GIF credit: @teamfreewill-imagine)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 6,107

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you. (Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.)

Chapter Summary: You offer yourself as bait for a shapeshifter hunt. Things do not go as planned.

Warnings: canon level violence, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, huffy!sam, protective!sam, slight angst?, slow burn, fluff

A/N: i am SO sorry for the wait (story of my life) but to make up for it, look, 6k words! (yeah i’m sorry about that too, i don’t know what happened there.) written for @tvdspngirl314‘s birthday writing event with the prompt “You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone?” which is bolded in the fic. this also fills a square for @spnfluffbingo​!

Square Filled: Rescue Mission

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The fourth time was all you. Dean barely had to lift a finger. The result, however, was far more traumatic than he had planned and rather emphatically revealed the magnitude of his brother’s feelings toward you.

Much like the previous attempts, there was a case: a shapeshifter going after women who conveniently happened to fit your description. The strategy was obvious, and you’d leaped at the opportunity to both make yourself useful and hopefully take the place of what would have otherwise been the next innocent civilian victim. But of course, Sam resisted at first.

“No. Absolutely not! We don’t know enough about this guy for you to just jump into his waiting arms, Y/N!” The fervent indignation in his tone and body language was palpable. Sam was rarely one to raise his voice or sport much of a temper at all really, but lately these heated outbursts seemed to be occurring more frequently, and frankly you were getting sick of it. The false hope they momentarily granted you through the notion that perhaps he cared about you as more than a friend was one thing. What’s more, the way his voice lowered half an octave combined with the sight of his flared nostrils, puffed chest, and straining jaw always seemed to have a sideways effect on you, in that it was impossible to keep your attention on his words alone. But boy did you try.

“Sam, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And your wrist is still healing so it’s not like you can call the shots on this one anyway. Besides, I’m not going in alone. You and Dean will be there for backup the whole time, right?”

“’Course we will, eh Sammy?” In a strange turn of events, Dean often appeared to be the one with a more jovial outlook recently.

Sam merely nodded and continued his heavy breathing. He glared down at his bandaged left wrist, the result of skirmish with a couple of wraiths, as if it were the root of all his problems. Then he looked up and through densely drawn brows, those magnetizing multicolored eyes pierced yours, his countenance bearing a charged and sullen expression of pensive exasperation as his jaw visibly tightened. You swallowed and could not for the life of you find the will to look away.

“So it’s settled then,” Dean proclaimed jubilantly, “Unless… you’ve got another reason you don’t want Y/N playing bait, hmm Sam? Maybe something you wanna share with the class? Or, you know, I could leave…”

“Dean, stop it. You’re not helping,” you quickly admonished before steadying your gaze back on the taller Winchester, “Look, Sam, have I ever let you down?”

“No. Never.”

“And do you still trust me?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately in a ‘what-kind-of-a-question-is-that’ tone, at which you simply raised your eyebrow to send him a reciprocating ‘then-what’s-the-problem?’ look.

“OK fine,” Sam huffed out a big breath, “But you’re not taking any risks! Anything seems off at all, just… promise me you’ll wait for me and Dean and keep us in the loop?”

His pleading eyes were so earnest and you’d truly never been able to say no to the giant puppy before, so you offered him a little smile and said, “Cross my heart.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed his face, looking lost in thought for a moment until he spoke up again, much more reserved and hesitant this time, “Do you still have that uh… ring from… that time?” Dean muffled a snort at his brother’s expense but you both ignored him, completely accustomed to his nonsensical teasing by now.

“Uh yeah, I- I think so.” The uncertainty in your voice was a lie. Of course you still had the ring you’d once used to pretend to be married to Sam Winchester. You may or may not have tucked it away in a special place for safekeeping.

“Good,” Sam nodded curtly, “I want you to wear it. It’s silver. I’ll wear mine too and Dean already has his. That’s how we’ll know that we’re still… ourselves.”

“OK, yeah that’s a good idea,” you agreed, trying your hardest not to linger on the memories.

“Well look at you two! Getting hitched again so soon-“

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam cut him off together.

When the meeting was adjourned and you were about to part ways to prepare for the upcoming hunt, something inside you forced you to call out his name, “Oh and Sam!” He turned around at once, questioning gaze somewhat urgently searching yours for a sign of what might come next. You stuttered though, feeling suddenly self conscious, so the next words you uttered were not much louder than a whisper, “Be careful with your wrist.”

Sam smiled, his dimples making your fingers twitch with the need to caress them. “I’ll be fine. You just look out for yourself. Remember, we’ll be right behind you.”

Somehow you both didn’t hear the groan Dean emitted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to whoever was listening, ‘Good lord, someone give me the strength to survive another day with these imbeciles.’

There was only one diner in the tiny Pennsylvanian town, and seeing as you were starving by the time you got there, the three of you were forced to make do with soggy fries and questionable milkshakes. As you ate, you went through your game plan once more, which essentially consisted of waiting until nightfall to visit the bar from where the previous girls had gone missing, while Sam and Dean shadowed you covertly.

Before you left, you took a quick trip to the loo and when you returned, Sam was stood outside alone, a broad smile upon his face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked as you began to walk out the diner, expecting to find the older brother waiting impatiently in the parking lot by his precious car, but the Impala was gone.

“He went back to the motel, said he had something to take care of and that we should go scope the place out first.”

“But I thought we agreed to-“

“Yeah, well change of plans, you know how it is,” Sam replied casually with a shrug.

Little red flags started fluttering in your head, urging your eyes downward to locate the silver band on his finger. You frowned when you found it there untouched on his right hand; Sam almost never interrupted you, not even when he was absorbed in the foulest of moods.  

Apparently sensing your hesitation, he added, “I mean, he made a good point. Maybe if you familiarize yourself with the surroundings first, you’ll be able to take the guy out faster.”

Sam was still smiling at you, but it felt all wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something missing from his rainbow eyes. The colors were all there, but they lacked luster and warmth, a delicate twinkle that you’d learned to associate with the beautiful, heroic yet self-doubting giant of a man. Never had you seen that breathtaking magic replicated elsewhere, nor had you ever seen Sam without it, which was why you were almost completely certain that the man before you was not the real Sam Winchester.

But weaving within you was a thread of doubt, insisting that you couldn’t just pull a gun on your best friend because of something as trivial as… a feeling? No, you needed to test your theory. And so, bracing yourself with a deep breath, you slowly reached out your silver-equipped hand to do something you’d grown accustomed to resentfully abstaining from: touching Sam’s bare skin. You aimed for the large target of his hand, deeming it the most inconspicuous of places (given that he was wearing his hunters’ uniform and the only other visible option would’ve been his face or neck), but Sam was faster. Just before you were able to graze his skin with your ring, he caught your wrist in his much bigger hand and pulled it away, twisting your arm until it was locked painfully behind you.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” the shifter snarled with a flash of its eyes, moving in real close as he used Sam’s immense size and his own superhuman strength to easily constrain you.

Even so, you stared up at him defiantly, unafraid, “Sam and Dean will be back.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sam’s sneering face and threatening voice were the last things you saw or heard.

You had no way of determining how much time had passed when you unceremoniously came to in what looked and smelled to be an underground sewer. As your senses sharpened and your muddled brain began to size up your current plight, you nearly scoffed at the clichéd style of your captor. Sat on a peeling wooden chair, manila rope bound your wrists together behind your back and tethered your ankles securely to each of the seat’s front legs.

Ignoring the ache in your head, you set about strategically testing the knots and the integrity of the wood. If only you could reach the silver blade in your boot. But your attempts were interrupted by the reappearance of the shifter, whose shoe hit something as he stepped before you. A metallic clang echoed through the confined space as a result and you followed the sound to find your coveted knife on the ground, far beyond your reach.

“Fucking hunters, always think they’re so clever, always one step ahead because it’s their game. Sure, we might be the monsters but you’re the predators! So let’s see how you like being the prey for once.” Shifter Sam’s upper lip curled up in a way that seemed so foreign to you as he leaned forward to rest his hands on either arm of your chair, caging you in.

The malicious glint in his eye left you with no qualms about affronting this being who, for all intents and purposes, appeared identical to the man you’d recently discovered you were in love with. Lifting your chin, you glared up at him brazenly, “If you’re so keen on being the predator then why am I still alive? What are you waiting for?”

“Why your knight in shining armor of course!” he exclaimed, backing up as he stood to his full height and gestured to himself with both hands. “You think it was a coincidence that all those women looked like you?”

The shifter’s narrowed eyes were alight with amusement and a ripple of fear surged through your body. You were in much deeper than you or the boys had anticipated, though years of practice helped you keep your voice steady and bold, “What did you do to them?”

“Oh, I gave them a fairly painless death, don’t you worry. They were just stepping stones on my way to you. See, the Winchesters owe me a girlfriend, so I figured I’d take the closest thing to theirs. But imagine my joyous surprise when I got into this big lug’s head and discovered that he’s in love with you! No, actually it’s more than that. He’s obsessed with you; you never leave his brain! Every other thought and memory is about you... Well, it’s either you or his brother, but oh, it’s gonna kill him to see you die before his eyes. I might’ve been able to replace my dead girlfriend, but I don’t think Sam here will ever come back from losing you.”

Stunned into silence, the stupid influx of misguided hormones pumping through your veins forced you to focus on maintaining a neutral expression as he rattled on.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you? So this really will be a double kill. It’s OK, you can let it all out. I might be a monster but I’m not one to deny the dying their chance for some last words. Besides, you can say it all while looking into the eyes of the man you love.”

“Fuck you,” were the only words you could trust yourself to spit out at him.

‘Sam’ laughed, but it was nothing like the laughs you normally pulled from him. It didn’t radiate like sunshine or replenish your soul with glee. Rather, it was chilling and conniving and despite the mimicry of Sam’s beautiful voice, you immediately decided that you never wanted to hear it again.

“Not feeling too talkative, huh? Or maybe you’d rather wait until he gets here in the flesh to make that anticlimactic confession of love? That’s alright, I can just tell you more about this dumbass’s feelings for you.” The shifter chuckled with delight, as if every word brought him nothing but pure joy. “Man, he loves you so much, it’s insane. I’ve never been inside the skin of someone so in love. And I thought I really loved my ex. Afterall, this whole revenge thing is for her. But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got nothing on Sam Winchester. Did you know he thinks you were made specifically for him? You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone? Cause Sam does. That’s how he feels about you.”

“Why should I believe you?” you challenged, growing tired of the inadvertent response his words were eliciting. Your heart was pounding in your neck, core trembling at the mere possibility of Sam genuinely feeling the way he’d described. But you knew better than to trust a monster, and one who was in pursuit of maximal vengeance no less. Still, those rose-colored thoughts resonated within you, and you stumbled to dismiss them as they bubbled up, one after another like a game of emotional whack-a-mole.

Shifter Sam smirked, “Yeah, you’re a cynical one, aren’t you? You know everything he said in that marriage counseling session was true. You kinda hurt his feelings when you just brushed it all off. Even big brother Dean’s been trying to get him to confess his love for you. You must’ve heard them arguing about it at some point? They weren’t exactly being discreet.”

Choosing not to respond, you simply scowled at him.

“No? Still in denial? Perhaps you need details… You ever notice how he always sits across from you whenever you’re doing research? It’s because he thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re focused, and it gives him an opportunity to admire you without getting caught. And why do you think he lets you call him Sammy, huh? Yeah, he might not let it on but he fucking loves it when you do, makes him feel all tingly inside. And you remember that cop who hit on you? Captain Anderson, was it? Sam wanted to break the guy’s nose just for touching you. Oh and why do you think he asked you to move into the bedroom closest to his? It’s so he can keep track of your nightmares. He likes to keep you close because it makes him feel like he can protect you better when you need it.”

By now, your ‘neutral expression’ must have surely mutated to betray your shock, and you couldn’t have answered if you tried. The shifter didn’t seem to mind either way. In fact, he appeared to be having the time of his life.

“And it’s not all pure thoughts, let me tell you! Oh man, buddy boy here has dreamed up plenty of X-rated scenes with you, ranging from obnoxiously romantic to just plain obscene. You name a position and he’s imagined it, in high-definition detail,” he embellished, tapping an index finger against his temple, “His mind is like a library of pornos starring the two of you, although he’ll never get to live out any of his fantasies, will he? It’s a shame really; some of these are really hot... Ooh, I’ll have to borrow that one,” he said with closed eyes, as if a figment of Sam’s imagination was playing through his head in that very moment, “Maybe my girl and I can re-enact it while we’re still in your skins-”

“Shut up, just shut up!” you finally bellowed in protest.

Sam watched the bathroom door attentively after you’d disappeared through it, unable to contain the upward jerk of his lips when he saw you walking back out of it. Heartwarming relief had become his body’s intrinsic response to seeing you safe and sound.

“You ready?” he questioned when you made it to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good.” God, even the sound of your voice made him happy.

Once you got back to the motel, Dean plopped down onto one of the full-size beds, exhausted from the drive. Within a matter of seconds, snores began to fill the room, and Sam chuckled under his breath as he sat down around a wobbly table with you to continue your research on the shifter’s victims, hoping to find something else that linked them together or a clue as to where they might’ve been taken.

It wasn’t long before you inhaled a revelatory gasp and abruptly clutched Sam’s wrist to show him what you’d found. But your grip was harsh, causing him to hiss in pain and do something he’d never before done: recoil from your touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” you asked nonchalantly, smiling up at him innocently.

Worse than the pain in his fractured wrist was what felt like sirens blaring in his head. You were always hyper-cognizant of his injuries and exceedingly careful around them, sometimes even more so than himself. Sam looked you over subtly, eyes landing on the silver ring still upon your finger. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him and all that tender attention he thought you’d shown him was simply a mirage of his own wishful thinking?

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sam sent you a tight smile, to which you responded with a dazzling one of your own. It was beautiful but something about it felt off. In the past, you apologized profusely if ever you found yourself the accidental cause of his discomfort, no matter how indirect or insignificant the case, but right now there wasn’t a single speck of concern in your eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the more he struggled to recognize the person staring back at him.

In a flash, Sam had you up against the wall, a silver blade held against your neck. He looked down to see the metal sizzling there, burning your flesh, and cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

The noise woke Dean from his slumber and what he saw when he opened his eyes was equal parts shocking and amusing. “Whoa! At least wait till I’m out of the room! And isn’t that a little kinky for your first time?”

“Dean, it’s not her. She’s not Y/N,” Sam grit out, “She’s wearing the ring but she’s not Y/N.”

His brother’s brows knit together as he rubbed the sleep from his emerald greens. “Wha- How did you know?”

“She was acting… weird.”

Dean scrambled off the bed, making a quick call on his phone to ensure you really were missing. He paled when a robotic voice over the line told him the number he was trying to reach was no longer in service.

It was then the shifter decided to speak up, “You know, the real Y/N would have liked this, you pressing her up against a wall?” she murmured suggestively.

“Shut up. Where is she?!” Sam slammed her body against the flimsy motel wall once more and dug the knife in a little deeper. In his panic-stricken state, he barely registered her remark, being driven entirely by a one-track mind at present.

Shifter Y/N grimaced slightly, glancing down at the knife, “Maybe if you stop cutting into me with that, I might consider telling you.”

“How did you get the ring?”

“Oh, this little thing? You like it? It’s imitation silver, but otherwise nearly identical to the one on the real Y/N’s finger. You see, we’ve been following you for a while now.”

“Who’s we? Where did you take Y/N?!” he demanded incessantly.

“My boyfriend’s got her, but don’t worry, he looks just like you so I’m sure she’ll find her accommodations to her liking,” she retorted with a smirk.

Sam’s heart lunged in his chest and his mind began whirring with endless possibilities of escalating dread. Had you been deceived and captured by a shifter pretending to be him? Were you being hurt or tortured by someone who looked exactly like him? How would you ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, you’d know it wasn’t Sam but the damage would still be done. You would forever remember his face as that of someone who once hurt you, who tried to kill you. That is, if Sam could make it to you in time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her one last time. That’s actually why I’m here, to take you to her when the time is right,” the shifter added casually.

“I will end your miserable fucking life! Tell me where she is right now!” Sam roared before pressing the blade further into her neck, the veins in his forearms ready to burst through his skin.

“Hey, hey! Sammy, ease up! We need her alive, alright?” Dean bounded over to his brother and after quite the struggle, managed to assuage him enough to release his vice grip and replace it with silver chains that shackled her to a chair.

“Sam, maybe we should also be asking ‘why’,” Dean mused as he fastened the end of a chain against one of the beds.

With a shake of his head, Sam avowed through grinding teeth, “I don’t fucking care. I have to get to her.”

“And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’ll find her myself.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief as he turned to his usually wise and level-headed little brother, “Oh yeah, and how’re you gonna do that? Where would you even start?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed in exasperation. Then, after a pause of desperate deliberation alleged, “Shifters like to make their lairs in sewers, right?”

Taking a step closer, Dean maintained his challenging tone, “So what are you gonna do, just wade through the entire town’s shit and piss until you find her?!”

“If that's what it takes, then yes!” Sam looked like he was about to eat his brother alive.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” shifter Y/N interfered from her seated position before them, raising her chin to meet Sam’s eyes, “Don’t worry, handsome, I can tell you she feels the same way. But unfortunately, by the time you get to her, I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you herself. In fact, you’ll probably hardly recognize her anymore… so you might want to keep me around, if only as a souvenir of your soon-to-be-dead girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t contain himself anymore. Despite looking like a carbon copy of you, the evil gleam in the shifter’s eyes made her easily differentiable, and so Sam held back nothing when he lunged across the distance, knife in hand ready to do some real damage. However, Dean pounced with him, having predicted his brother’s violent eruption and felt his shaking wrath, knowing a little too well just how rash he could be when it came to you. Still, it took all of Dean’s strength to pull Sam back, sending him a stern but knowing look once he did.

“Sam, stop!” His low voice rumbled as he went into authoritative big brother mode, “Listen to me, you wanna save Y/N? Well so do I, but this is not how we do it! Now I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down, alright?”

Sam’s massive chest was practically at his chin as he heaved ginormous breaths. Though his body language was still offensive, his hazel eyes were filled with fear and devastation when they looked toward his brother, “Dean, if I don't get to her in time, I’ll...” Clenching his jaw, Sam made a fruitless attempt to calm his tremoring frame and quell his tumultuous emotions. What would he do? Sam wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that every cell in his being was currently screaming at him to get to you, to make sure you were safe and soothe away any of your pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t give in that moment to simply know you were alright and to hold you in his arms. He knew you could look after yourself, but for once he had a terrifying feeling that even you were in over your head, that you might actually need him this time, and he’d be fucking damned if he let you down.

“Woah! Hey, hey! Sammy, look at me! That ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’re gonna find Y/N and we’re gonna bring her home in one piece, you hear me? We’re the Winchesters, man! We’ve faced the end of the world. What’s a couple of shifters got on us?”

‘You,’ Sam thought, ‘They’ve got you.’ But he appreciated Dean’s pep talk nonetheless and nodded in response as a fresh surge of determination swelled within him.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded as well, “Why don’t you let me give her a go?”

As Dean’s silver blade cut into the detained shapeshifter, Sam flinched with every moan and howl of agony. He knew it wasn’t you, but she still had your voice and your perfect face. Yet not a second was wasted on the feeling of relief when they finally managed to get a location out of her. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his haste as he snatched the Impala’s keys and his gun before flying out of the room with a jumbled order for Dean to stay with the monster.

“Well, if you’re not gonna admit your feelings for the giant lumberjack, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to prettying you up for that first and last date of yours, huh?” Shifter Sam prodded your cheek with a switchblade.

You said nothing. At this point, you had a sneaking suspicion that physical pain might be more bearable than the psychological torment your imprisoner had been so keen on. It was one thing for you to torture yourself by entertaining the slim possibility that Sam might return your feelings for him, but to hear such outrageous perceptions from a creature who could read the inside of his mind like a paperback novel, and conveyed with such tantalizing conviction… well, it just about broke you.

And knowing that the shifter was yearning to coax a confession out of you simply to cause Sam as much anguish as possible made you more resolute about your refusal to submit, beyond the need to protect your own sanity.

One shiner and a slash to the thigh later, however, you heard a loud clash. Shifter Sam paused his handiwork and began to turn around, “Could your knight be here ahead of schedule?”

‘Dammit,’ you thought. The Winchesters were usually capable of being stealthy when necessary but in case it really was the sound of them making a blunder or encountering some other form of resistance, you figured you’d buy them a distraction.

“Wait, wait! You’re right, OK? Maybe I do feel something for Sam, but even if I told him, I think you’re forgetting… This is Sam fucking Winchester we’re talking about here. He’s been tortured by the devil himself. You really think killing me is going do much damage?”

Your abductor had now given you his full attention, leering at you with a sly smile, so you continued, “Besides, you picked a fight with the Winchesters; don't expect to live to see tomorrow.”

Right on cue, a hulking blur of hair and plaid came barreling in, growling ferally as he grabbed the shifter and threw more than one brutal punch against what appeared to be his own face. The silver ring on Sam’s hand made contact with skin and his shifter counterpart groaned in pain.

You nearly forgot about your ceaseless work of untying the rope that cuffed your wrists together as your looked on in shock. Why Sam hadn’t just shot him with a silver bullet was beyond you. He was smarter than this. There was no need to drag out a monster’s death if a more efficient option existed. But as he continued to engage his clone in hand-to-hand combat, it appeared almost as if he was venting his frustrations on the shifter, as if he drank up every ounce of hurt he was able to inflict. But his high only lasted so long and shifter Sam soon regained his balance, making use of his supernatural invulnerability and superior strength.

“Sam!” you screamed as the shifter threw him across the room.

He tumbled up just in time as the shifter meandered over, “So nice of you to join us, Sam. You know, Y/N here was just telling me about-“

Sam didn’t wait for him to finish, choosing instead to tackle him to the floor with a loud grunt. While they wrestled on the ground, you worked furiously at the knots behind you, wincing with every hit Sam took though it was becoming hard to tell them apart.

When Sam finally drew his gun, the shifter was able to divert its barrel and a shot rang out futilely. Catching a subsequent elbow to the ribs had Sam falling to his knees and you watched in horror as shifter Sam once again gained the upper hand, sending the gun flying out of Sam’s grasp. The binding around your wrists was just about undone when Sam seized a stray rusty pipe and swung it against his counterfeit. Shifter Sam was incapacitated for a brief instant but quickly returned to form with some vicious hooks and a couple of well-placed knees.

With your hands finally free of their restraints, you staggered over to the gun, the chair still attached at your ankles. As you took aim, you shouted, “Sam, get down!” before you shot his mirror image through the heart.

Sighing, you slumped to your hands and knees whilst the real Sam sat up with his back against a wall, gaping at you with a look of awe. Yet before he even caught his breath, he was up and gliding toward you, cradling his left wrist at an awkward angle.

“Sam, your wrist!”

“It’s fine, are you OK?” he swiftly dismissed your concern, cupping your face with his good hand as he examined the darkening bruise around your eye.

You ignored the palpitations in your chest and placed a hand upon his wrist, “Yeah, I’m fine. He wasted more time playing mind games than anything. You know villains and their monologues,” you joked, trying to ease his tension and the deluded self-imposed guilt you knew he must’ve been brewing in.

As if to prove your point, Sam lamented, “God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have gotten here sooner.”

“What? No! They were miles ahead of us, Sam. The whole thing was a set up; this was their hunt. How could you have known?”

Rather than replying, he released a breath and busied himself trying to help you out of your binding.

Back at the motel, after icing your eye and stitching up your thigh, you insisted on re-wrapping Sam’s wrist while Dean took care of shifter Y/N’s remains. But when the older Winchester returned and spied you and his brother sitting together on a bed through a crack in the door, he couldn’t resist the chance to exercise his espionage skills.

“How did you know she wasn’t me anyway?” you asked as you gently wound the ace bandage around Sam’s swollen forearm.

“I just…” He looked down at your nimble fingers upon his skin and smiled unwittingly at their tender touch, “had a feeling.”

Sam’s sunflower gaze locked onto yours for a frozen instant and something about his soft expression made you forget what words were, until he cleared his throat, “Did you um- did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling for some strange reason. Perhaps you were just glad to see his trademark twinkle return to those otherworldly eyes. “Pretty soon after actually. I… had a feeling too.”

Sam’s dimples made every ache in your body disappear as that twinkle glistened in full force, “And how’d you know which one to shoot?”

Well, that dampened your mood and brought you back to the task at hand, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you kept grimacing every time you used your left wrist?” Although your words had a bitter force behind them, the pressure beneath your fingertips never increased and Sam had almost completely forgotten about his pain.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of your struggle to reconcile with what had happened since his question prompted a restored and growing frustration.

It had been bugging you the whole time and you felt compelled to confront him about it because storming in alone with a bad wrist, ready to throw hands with an out-of-his-league monster was really not Sam’s style. Something must’ve gotten into him and with everything the shifter had told you, you couldn’t help but wonder. Nevertheless, you were a little afraid of how he might answer, so Dean had to lean in closer to hear your next words.

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“W-what do you mean?” Sam stammered out after a pause.

“Sam, you have a broken wrist, but instead of sending Dean or using your gun from the get-go, you came in like a madman and went after him with your fists!” Your voice was full of incredulity though it also carried an undertone of anger.

As Sam picked up on that reproachful tone, you could almost feel the telltale signs of his puppy dog eyes coming on. “He used my face to deceive you, to hurt you. They manipulated us. I had to- ...I mean, he killed those women just to get us here. He had it coming!”

Your hopes plummeted. Of course, Sam was ever the righteous man. Why would you assume his brashness had been purely born out of a need to avenge you? Though regardless of his reason, you were still upset about his self-destructing behavior, “Yeah, but you had to have realized you were in no position to be the one to give it to him, right? I mean, you might’ve looked the same but he was juiced up on monster superpowers, Sam… which meant he was stronger and faster, not to mention uninjured, in his own territory, and apparently the only one with a sound plan.”

A breath of laughter left Sam’s lips though there was no smile on his face. Here he’d been on a mission to save you, but you were the one who’d ended up saving him, again. You must’ve thought he was comically stupid and pathetically useless. How could he possibly think he was worthy of you? “I guess I should thank you for saving my ass again, huh?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean. Sam, you’re the one who saved me! And I’m beyond grateful for it, really I am. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself more in the process.” You finally finished up with his wrist wrap, securing the final ends with a clip, and letting your hands linger on his for longer than necessary, momentarily distracted by the disparity of size between them. Sam didn’t appear uncomfortable though, as his fingers twitched closer to yours and he made no move to pull away.

He couldn’t help but smile again when he noticed the sincere concern in your eyes that was previously absent in the shifter’s. “Yeah well, what was it you once said to me? ‘Your ass will always be worth it’?” 

“And if I remember correctly, you once told me you don’t do things on hunts that make your injuries worse,” you quoted him back with an arched brow.

“Yeah well, I guess this is payback. Now you know how I felt.” A playful grin made his dimples deepen and you clenched your jaw to refrain from gushing over the ridiculous cuteness of this ‘giant lumberjack’.

“You’re an idiot.”

“As long as you’re OK,” Sam answered assuredly, and you nearly melted when his free hand caressed your cheek for the second time that day, big thumb tracing a feather-light path below the purpled skin.

‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ Dean groaned internally from the other side of the door. He knew he had no choice but to up his game.

thanks so much for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated!

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TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog @moosewinchester @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​​ @jotink78 @winifrede @writingforthelonelysoul @turtletaylor98 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons​ @peridottea91​ @tvdspngirl314​ @idreamofplaid​​ @samsgirl2020​​ @katwed​​

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern​

[brawltogethernow]

So, I don't think I've ever asked you this... what IS the whole point of the Spider-Sense? It really seems like something that only exists for writers to ignore or work around when they want to inject Legit Tension into a story.

I’ve thought about this power so much, but never with an eye to defend its right to exist, so I needed to think about this. The results could be more concise.

Ironically, given the question, I have to say its main purpose is to ramp up tension. But it’s also a highly variable multitool that a skilled creative team can use for...pretty much anything. It does everything the writer wants it to, while for its wielder always falls just short of doing enough.

I went looking through my photos for a really generic, classic-looking example to use as an image to head this topic, but then I ran into the time Peter absolutely did not reimburse this man for his stolen McDonald’s, so have that instead.

A Scare Chord, But You Can Draw It

That one post that says the spider-sense is just super-anxiety isn’t, like, wrong. It’s a very anxious, dramatic storytelling tool originally designed for a very anxious, dramatic protagonist. I find it speaks to the overall tone of the franchise that some characters are functionally psychics, but with a psychic ability that only points out problems.

Spidey sense pinging? There’s danger, be stressed! Broken? Now the lead won’t even KNOW when there’s a problem, scary! Single character is immune to it? That’s an invisible knife in the dark oh my god what the fuck what the fU--

Like its counterpart in garden variety anxiety, the only time the spider-sense reduces tension is in the middle of a crisis. But in the wish fulfillmenty way that you want in an adventure story to justify exaggerated action sequences, the same way enhanced strength or durability does. Also like those, it would theoretically make someone much safer to have it, but it exists in the story to let your character navigate into and weather more dangerous situations.

For its basic role in a story, a danger sense is a snappy way to rile up both the reader and the protagonist that doesn’t offer much information beyond that it’s time to sit smart because shit is about to go down.

Spidey comic canon is all over the board in quality and genre, and it started needing to subvert its formulas before the creators got a handle on what those formulas even were, and basically no one has read anything approaching most of it at this point, so for consistent examples of a really bare bones use of this power in storytelling, I’d point to the property that’s done the best job yet of boiling down the mechanics of Spider-Man to their absolute most basic essentials for adaptation to a compelling monster of the week TV series.

Or as you probably know it, Danny Phantom. DON’T BOO, I’M RIGHT.

DP is Spider-Man with about 2/3 of the serial numbers filed off and no death (ironically), and Danny’s ghost sense is the most proof in the formula example of what the spidey sense is for: It’s a big sign held up for the viewer that says, “Something is wrong! Pay attention!” Effectively a visual scare chord. It’s about That Drama. And it works, which won it a consistent place in the show’s formula. We’re talking several times an episode here.

So why does it work?

It’s a little counterintuitive, but it’s strong storytelling to tell your audience that something bad is going to happen before it does. A vague, punchy spoiler transforms the ignorant calm before a conflict into a tense moment of anticipation. ...And it makes sure people don’t fail to absorb the beginning of said conflict because they weren’t prepared to shift gears when the scene did. Shock is a valuable tool, too, but treating it like a staple is how you burn out your audience instead of keeping them engaged. Not to go after an easy target, but you need to know how to manage your audience’s alarm if you don’t want to end up like Game of Thrones.

The limits of the spider-sense also keep you on your toes when handled by a smart writer. It tells Peter (everyone’s is a little different, so I’m going to cite the og) about threats to his person, but it doesn’t elaborate with any details when it’s not already obvious why, what kind, and from what. And it doesn’t warn him about anything else-- Which is a pretty critical gap when you zoom out and look at his hero career’s successes and failures and conclude that it’s definitely why he’s lived as long as he has acting the way he does, but was useless as he failed to save a string of people he’d have much rather had live on than him.

(Any long-running superhero mythos has these incidents, but with Peter they’re important to the core themes.)

And since this power is by plot for plot (or because it’s roughly agreed it only really blares about threats that check at least two boxes of being major, immediate, or physical), it always kicks in enough to register when the danger is bearing down...when it’s too late to actually do anything about it if “anything” is a more complex action than “dodge”.

Really? Not until the elevator doors started to open?

That Distinctive, Crunchy Spider Flavor

The spider-sense and its little pen squiggles go hand in hand with wallcrawling (and its unique and instantly identifiable associated body language) to make the Spider-Person powerset enduringly iconic and elevate characters with it from being generic mid-level super-bricks. Visually, but also in how it shapes the story.

I said it can share a narrative role with super strength. But when you end a fight and go home, super strength continues to make your character feel powerful, probably safer than they’d be otherwise, maybe dangerous.

The spider-sense just keeps blaring, “Something’s wrong! Something’s wrong! God, why aren’t you doing something about this!?”

Pretty morose thing to live with, for a safety net! Kind of a double edged sword you have there! Could be constantly being hyperattuned to problems would prime you for a negative outlook on life. Kind of seems like a power that would make it impossible for a moral person to take a day off, leading them into a beleaguered and resentful yet dutiful attitude about the whole superhero gig! Might build up to some of the core traits of this mythos, maybe! Might lead to a lot of fifteen minute retirement stories, or something. Might even be a built in ‘great responsibility’ alarm that gets you a main character who as a rule is not going to stop fighting until he physically cannot fight anymore.

Certainly not apropos of anything, just throwing this short lived barely-a-joke tagline up for fun.

One of my personal favorite things about stories with superpowers is keeping in mind how they cause the people who have them to act in unusual ways outside of fights, so when you tell me that these people have an entire extra sense that tells them when the gas in their house is leaking through a barely useful hot/cold warning system that never turns off, I’m like, eyes emojis, popcorn out, notebook open, listening intently, spectacles on, the whole deal.

It also contributes to Peter Parker’s personality in a way I really enjoy: It allows him to act like an irrational maniac. When you know exactly when a situation becomes dangerous and how much, normal levels of caution go out the window and absolutely nothing you do makes sense from an exterior standpoint anymore. That’s the good shit. I would like to see more exploration of how the non-Parker characters experiencing the world in this incredibly altered way bounce in response.

It’s also one of many tools in this franchise hauling the reader into relating more closely with the main character. The backbone of classic Spidey is probably being in on secrets only Peter and the reader know which completely reframe how one views the situation on the page. It’s just a big irony mine for the whole first decade. A convenient way to inform the reader and the lead that something is bad news that’s not perceivable to any other characters is youth-with-a-big-exciting-secret catnip.

Another point for tension, there, in that being aware of danger is not synonymous with being able to act on it. If there’s no visible reason for you to be acting strange, well...you’re just going to have to sit tight and sweat, aren’t you? Some gratuitous head wiggles never hurt when setting up that type of conflict.

Have I mentioned that they look cool? Simultaneously punchy and distinctive, with a respectable amount of leeway for artists to get creative with and still coming up with something easily recognizable? And pretty easy to intuit the meaning of even without the long-winded explanations common in the days when people wrote comics with the intent that someone could come in cold on any random issue and follow along okay, I think, although the mechanic has been deeply ingrained in popular culture for so long that I can’t really say for sure.

It was also useful back in the day when no artists drew the eyes on the Spider-Man mask as emoting and were conveying the lead’s expressions entirely through body language and panel composition. If you wiggle enough squiggles, you don’t need eyebrows.

Take This Handwave and Never Ask Me a Logistical Question Again

This ability patches plot holes faster than people can pick them open AND it can act as an excuse to get any plot rolling you can think of if paired with one meddling protagonist who doesn’t know how to mind their own business. Buy it now for only $19.99 (in four installments; that’s four installments of $19.99).

Why can a teenager win a six on one fight against other superhumans? Well, the spider-sense is the ultimate edge in combat, duh.

Why can Peter websling? Why doesn’t everyone websling? Well, the spider-sense is keeping him from eating flagpole when he violently flings himself across New York in a way neither man nor spider was ever meant to move.

How are we supposed to get him involved with the plot this week???? Well, that crate FELT dangerous, so he’s going to investigate it. Oh, dip, it was full of guns and radioactive snakes! Probably shouldn’t have opened that!

Yeah, okay, but why isn’t it fixing everything, then? Isn’t it supposed to be why Peter has never accidentally unmasked in front of somebody? ('Nother entry for this section, take a shot.) That’s crazy sensitive! How does he still have any problems!? Is everything bad that’s ever happened to characters with this powerset bad writing!? --Listen, I think as people with uncanny senses that can tell us whether we are in danger with accuracy that varies from incredible to approximate (I am talking about the five senses that most people have), we should all know better than to underestimate our ability to tune them out or interpret them wrong and fuck ourselves up anyway. I honestly find this part completely realistic.

*SLAPS ROOF OF SPIDER-SENSE* YOU CAN FIT SO MANY STORIES IN THIS THING

The spider-sense is a clean branch into...whatever. There is the exact right balance of structure and wishy-washiness to build off of. A sample selection of whatevers that have been built:

It’s sci-fi and spy gadgets when Peter builds technology that can interface with it.

It’s quasi-mystical when Kaine and Annie-May get stronger versions of it that give them literal psychic visions, or when you want to get mythological and start talking about all the spider-characters being part of a grand web of fate.

Kaine loses his and it becomes symbolic of a future newly unbound by constraints, entangled thematically with the improved physical health he picked up at the same time -- a loss presented as a gain.

Peter loses his and almost dies 782 times in one afternoon because that didn’t make the people he provoked when he had it stop trying to kill him, and also because he isn’t about to start “””taking the subway’’””’ “‘’“”to work”””’’” like some kind of loser who doesn’t get a heads up when he’s about to hit a pigeon at 50mph.

Peter’s starts tuning into his wife’s anxiety and it’s a tool in a relationship study.

It starts pinging whenever Peter’s near his boss who’s secretly been replaced by a shapeshifter and he IGNORES IT because his boss is enough of an asshole that that doesn’t strike him as weird; now it’s a comedy/irony tool.

Into the Spider-Verse made it this beautiful poetic thing connecting all the spider-heroes in the multiverse and stacked up a story on it about instant connection, loss, and incredibly unlikely strangers becoming a found family. It was also aesthetic as FUCK. Remember the scene where Miles just hears barely intelligible whispering that’s all lines people say later in the film and then his own voice very clearly says “look out” and then the room explodes?? Fuck!!!!

Venom becomes immune to it after hitchhiking to Earth in Peter’s bone juice and it makes him a unique threat while telling a more-homoerotic-than-I-assume-was-originally-intended story about violation and how close relationships can be dangerous when they go sour.

It doesn’t work on people you trust for maximum soap opera energy. Love the innate tragedy of this feature coming up.

IN CONCLUSION I don’t have much patience for writers who don’t take advantage of it, never mind feel they need to write around it.

[alirhi]

Loki ranting

Okay. I had this thought in my head of like just compiling links of all the Loki shit I've posted/reblogged so far so that when I get into a conversation about the show and how it fucking disgusted me, I can just be like "here. here's this masterlist post, go read all this shit. This is my entire argument, and not only mine, but a lot of stuff posted by people far more intelligent and level-headed and eloquent than I am, whom I happen to agree with." Because the alternative is constantly getting fired up all over again, and that is exhausting.

BUT! I'm stupid and don't know how tumblr works. Apparently I can't just be like "give me all the Loki-tagged shit I've got" I can only search all the Loki-tagged shit on all of tumblr. And I'm not scrolling back through all of my posts. I talk too fucking much for that shit 😂

So, I'll try to remember all of my grievances with how the MCU has treated Loki, and all of the excellent posts made by other, equally upset fans, and put it all together here under this nice, neat little cut for everyone else's sanity and scrolling convenience...

For people who actually read my shit fairly regularly - bless you, you crazy, patient people. I love you! - this is going to be a lot of repetition of shit you've already read. Probably at least twice. I'm passionate and I have a terrible memory lol. Sorry.

Anyway, first, for those who don't know me and haven't been following my explosions of rage for the past couple of months, some quick background: I do not read comic books, so Loki's Marvel comic canon means nothing to me. I know almost nothing about it. The reason I'm so in love with the character in the MCU is because I am an eclectic witch and the deity I've actively loved and worshiped the longest in my life (literally for as long as I can remember) is Loki. So when he was mentioned in The Mask, I squeed. When they named Matt Damon's character after him in Dogma, I cheered.

When Thor came out in 2011, I just about died from happiness. I was hungry for any representation of this underappreciated god, no matter what it was. I didn't even bitch about how underpowered he was, because at least he was there. But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself.

I can hear anyone reading this going "Why Loki? Isn't he, like, evil? Like basically the Norse version of The Devil?" Because I heard all this shit irl all the fucking time. And no. So let me give you a quick rundown of who Loki actually is.

Loki is a Trickster God. He's often referred to as the God of Mischief. He is not and never was evil, simply chaotic and hedonistic. Loki Laufeyjarson was the son of Laufey (that's mama; they changed her to a man for some reason in the movie) and Fárbauti. Right from the start, from his name, we get a sign of how Loki goes against traditional norms of the time, because in Norse culture, families were patrilineal, and surnames were "son/daughter of father" (which would have made him Loki Fárbautitason), not the mother. But Loki's surname is matrilineal. Feminist icon woo! lol

Though he's a Jotunn, Loki is counted among the Gods (Aesir) in Norse tradition. Depending on his mood, he is alternately helpful or disruptive to the other Gods. I'm not gonna sit and teach a whole text class on him lol but I'll use my favorite example of Misunderstood Loki - the conception of Sleipnir!

So, get this shit. This is also part of why I DO NOT follow Odin and never fucking will (a very small part, but still part of the reason). So, the other Norse Gods are petty motherfuckers, and they wanted some shit built but didn't want to pay the dude doing the building. So they were like "okay, if you can get it done in X amount of time, we'll pay you, but if you can't manage it NO MATTER WHAT, this whole thing is free." And they made sure he had NO help, nothing but him, his materials, and his Very Good Horsey. And this guy and his horse were fucking BAMFs. So it was looking like he was definitely gonna get it done in time, and Odin was like "nah, fuck that shit. I'm cheap." and so he sent Loki to distract the work horse. Loki transformed into a mare and lured the horse away, got fucked, got pregnant, gave birth to the 8-legged (for some reason) horse Sleipnir. Odin rides Loki's son into battle. Um. Kay.

So Loki helped Odin be a petty mf, and Odin got himself a new pet out of the deal.

Oh, also, because he's smart af and a shapeshifter and a master magician and genderfluid, Loki "fails" to fit the super fucking toxic and narrow Norse/Aesir view of "a real man". He prefers intelligence and manipulation to solve problems rather than violence, he's not afraid to behave like a clown if it gets shit done, and that grosses the Aesir out, so they constantly ridicule him for being "less than a man".

Loki is the God of the outcast and the misunderstood. The marginalized people from all walks of life. He is the God of the LGBT community. In modern terms, he's pansexual, polyamorous (married to Sigyn and they are deeply in love, but boy gets around and I've never seen any indication that Sigyn gives a shit) and genderfluid.

Okay. Focus, Ali. This is part of why I usually post multiple rants instead of one big long one XD The longer I ramble, the more I get sidetracked and forget the original point.

So. Loki's awesome, and being a Trickster, is powerful as all fucking hell. There's not much he can't do.

And now we come to Thor (the movie, not the deity). Loki's there! 24-year-old Ali is spazzing! All is right with the world!

Oh lord, they've actually done him justice?! Amazing! He's complex and nuanced and emotional, just like the real Loki! I loved this movie. Loved. It. The climactic thing with trying to blow up Jotunheim never really made much sense to me until someone made an excellent point the other day about Loki being raised in a racist society that was racist against his own race, he just didn't know it yet, poor child. Baby Thor was never corrected when he pledged to commit mass genocide, so Baby Loki probably absorbed the lesson then that Jotunns=evil and killing them all will win his father's love. Anyway, 2011 Loki was a beautiful, heartbreaking portrayal of the God I've loved all my life and spent 24 years longing to see depicted on the big screen.

Then The Avengers happened. And I saw another Loki very close to Norse mythology - mainly, how he's treated. In the beginning of the movie, he's sick, exhausted, and in pain. He can hardly stand, he stumbles and needs help when he walks. He was very obviously tortured, and the sickly blue light of the scepter's control is in his eyes. That gets less and less pronounced as the movie goes on, showing Loki working his way free of it, but in the beginning, he's a mess. Because he was tortured and used by Thanos. Marvel directly confirmed this, and that he was under the scepter's/Mind Stone's control. Loki's actions are not his own in The Avengers. He's under both threat and Thanos' direct control. The movie actually shows The Other directly threatening him to keep him on task, because this is not Loki's plan. It is not what he wants. He's being used and villainized... Just like in real life. It hurt to see this done to him, but the accuracy was too beautiful to ignore.

Thor: The Dark World comes out. I've heard people complain that this movie is the weak link in the Thor trilogy. I disagree. I think that's Ragnarok, for a bunch of reasons, but we'll get there. (And for the record, I loved Ragnarok, too. It was a funny movie. Infinity War and the Disney+ series are the only portrayals of Loki in the MCU that I truly fucking hated.) Anyway, good, fun movie. Had its faults, as all movies do, but it still followed Loki's real-life arc in a way. How? By having Loki dragged back to Asgard in chains and imprisoned underground. Again, not super happy that this happened to my love, and having to see it on screen was painful, but at least in the MCU he's not chained to a rock with venom dripping on his face for eternity, so there's that. (poor Sigyn. how tired do her arms get, holding up that bowl? best wife ever, amirite?)

In TDW, we're shown Loki's love for Frigga, who favored him and taught him magic as a child. We see his bravado; his attempts to mask his true feelings, especially grief. We see him slowly coming back to himself after the events of The Avengers, and slowly mending his relationship with his brother. He accepts that Odin will likely never love him, but Thor just might, because they were close when they were young. "I didn't do it for him." No, no my sweet, you did it for your brother, and a little out of guilt for what happened to your mother.

At the end, Loki fakes his death and escapes, taking the throne, and I have mixed feelings about this. Not the writer's choices here; I love that completely! A natural progression in Loki's story. But my joy is tainted by how closely they're following the Eddas now. Because Loki's escape from his prison heralds the beginning of Ragnarok. And Loki will die in Ragnarok. I don't want to see that play out in front of my face. I won't be able to handle the grief (spoiler alert! IW broke me. I almost walked out of the theater. Loki's death was legitimately fucking traumatic for me. I don't even care how pathetic that is. That grief was real, it was intense, and I still shake and cry when I think about it.)

Marvel announces that Thor 3 will be called Ragnarok. The internet treats this as a shocking revelation. I roll my eyes and mumble "duh" to myself and move on XD

Then they say Ragnarok will be a buddy comedy. I throw up a little in my mouth and no longer want to live on this planet. If they're going to make something called Ragnarok, could they at least treat it with even a fraction of the respect they've shown these characters thusfar? Jfc. I mean, I'll see it anyway, because I'm a whore for Tom Hiddleston lol. But come on, people!

I hated that they made Hel the long-lost older sister and Fenrir her fucking pet/attack dog. Those are my favorites of Loki's children! Hel is such an incredible badass that the early Christians named their dimension of eternal torture after her! They were terrified of her, to the point of naming the place that terrified them most after her. That's awesome! And Fenrir's just the best. I love wolves. Those two details, and Odin's retcon of "we're not Gods! ...lol, except your sister. she's totally a Goddess. and def gonna kill literally everything, so... good luck! byyyeeeee" pissed me off royally.

The rest was great. I genuinely liked this movie. Still do. And they finally used The Immigrant Song! That was pretty cool. If they'd thrown in Bring the Hammer Down and Thunderstruck, I might've called this movie perfect. XD

I wasn't totally in love with their portrayal of Loki in Ragnarok. Yes, the falling for 30 minutes line was funny, as was "I have to get off this planet" and "YES! That's how it feels!" And "Get Help" was funny as hell. But also, like... There is no way Loki would have been the dumb one in that first encounter with Hela. Also, he can teleport and project copies of himself and shit, so... He would not have been that desperate to go straight back to Asgard and bring her right along with them. Loki's not stupid. But whatever. Movie's gotta movie.

What I did love was seeing the slow mending of his relationship with Thor continuing, and the badass fighting on the bridge. I also loved that, like Real Loki, Movie Loki helped when help was needed, was quick and clever, and while he was carrying out the main plan, he was also planning ahead and grabbing the Tesseract. Yes, that drew Thanos right to them, but that's a whole other thing. Loki never would have left that thing on Asgard to be destroyed or lost.

And now Infinity War. Hooooly fucking shit. You know what? No. I'm not going into this. He was killed, years of character growth were erased forever, my heart fucking shattered. The end.

Endgame. IW hurt me so bad I didn't see Endgame until this year. I actually watched Civil War first (for context: I had actively avoided all Cap movies until this year because I fucking hate Steve Rogers. I find him insufferable. Did not realize what I was denying myself until I watched CW and finally saw the charms of Bucky. When he appeared in IW, I was so lost. XD I was like "...who dis? Murder Jesus?" also I just... didn't care. I was numb by then from crying through most of the movie over Loki)

So, anyway. Endgame. Loki picks up the Tesseract in alternate 2012, escapes, fans go "yay! he didn't actually die!" I go "yes he fucking did. Five years of his life, gone. Five years of growth and change, erased. Loki is dead. This will not be the same."

I was more right than I could have predicted. Now we come to the point of this rant. Sorry it took so long, but you were warned lol.

The Loki series makes me so angry I actually get sick to my stomach. It was fucking TRASH. When I praised Marvel for following Norse mythology so faithfully earlier? Yeah. I DID NOT MEAN TREAT HIM THE WAY THE OTHER GODS DID. I did not mean paint him as a pitiful clown, a joke, a caricature of who he truly was, with his pain and suffering played for LAUGHS.

This is supposed to be 2012 Loki, newly freed from Thanos' control. The Loki we saw in the beginning of TDW - snarky, exhausted, nihilistic. The Loki who rolled his eyes and said "get on with it" expecting to be killed.

The bumbling clown flipping on a dime from posturing to calling himself weak is not 2012 Loki. That is not ANY Loki. That is Tom Hiddleston in a black wig doing what he's told by a shitty writer who had no fucking idea what he was doing and was salty about his (bad) original script (for something totally fucking unrelated) getting killed.

In Episode 1, Loki is mocked, imprisoned, stripped against his will, tormented, belittled, and given a flippant summary of all the trauma Actual MCU Loki suffered that this one skipped out on, with no context, no acknowledgement of the trauma he's already lived quite fucking recently, and with the narrative twisted to not only erase all the abuse he's suffered, but to make it all his fault. And this is supposed to make him want to help these people?

And worse, IT FUCKING WORKS. WHAT?! I CAN'T- FUCKING WHAT?! Remember when I said LOKI IS NOT FUCKING STUPID?! So why is he STUPID?

Episode 2, he's a child. Mentally, this Loki is a fucking child. Now we've erased all the growth and development of his entire adult life. He's dopey, impatient, impulsive, desperate for a pat on the back and actually shows it. Yes, abused and neglected children crave the positive attention we never received, and we often grow up to be a bit emotionally stunted. But not all of us, and not Loki. Not as we've seen him EVER in the rest of the MCU. Playful and a bit callous at times? Absolutely! But not a big dumb fucking puppy.

Episode 3, a ray of hope, despite Sylvie! (I hate Sylvie) Loki casually admits he's pan/bi; labels never come up, but he admits to being with both men and women! He sings! Not really relevant to whether I approve of his portrayal or not lol but Tom has a beautiful voice, Norwegian ("Asgardian" lol) is a gorgeous, entrancing language, and I could watch that one bit on loop for eternity and never get bored. And then, finally, we see a glimpse - a glimpse - of Loki's power! He stops a falling building and pushes it right back up! Are we finally getting to see what he can really do? Will the next episode bring us Loki in all his glory?

Nope. 4 and 5 we see him mocked and pushed around and utterly irrelevant. Again. We see tiny reflections of what he could maybe theoretically do in other random Loki variants, but the "main" (lawl. main. it was the Sylvie and Mobius show. Loki was never the main anything.) Loki? Nothing. He wears his heart on his sleeve for no reason, bonds with the man who imprisoned, taunted, and gaslit him, is killed, and continues to be a moron and a joke. Always the clown. Always the dumb one. The one with the bad ideas. The inferior Loki.

Don't even get me started on that finale. I can't. This already took so much out of me. Fuck Marvel. Fuck this fucking show. I just... I'm done.

[ollie-ollie-oxenfreee]

then came the morning (aka: the post - canon cuddle fic)

The work in progress is finally done! I’ve been chipping away at it for the past couple weeks now, and it’s gone through many drafts / iterations, but I think I’m finally happy with it. :)

Title from an album by the Lone Bellow. 

The first time the two of them “shared a bed” was about as awkward as one might imagine. The initiating circumstances were hardly any better.

 The heating apparatus in their quarters had given out a week or so back in a spectacular fit of dust - laden wheezing. The engineering crew called in to inspect it informed them that it couldn’t be fixed until they could pick up the right parts at the nearest trading post (which was naturally thousands of klicks away on the ragged edge of nowhere). With the ambient heat from the nearby engine room seeping through the wall, the conditions were deemed “unpleasant but survivable.” They were issued two extra threadbare blankets and told in tersely formal military - speak to deal with it. 

 And they’d dealt with it really well for a while! They grit their teeth and carried on like a couple of champs: Harrow, having been thoroughly warned against using her magic too frequently, layering on spare cloaks and sweaters until she almost disappeared under a mountain of black fabric; Gideon curling up close to the engine room wall and wincing when the cold sent spiteful twinges shooting through her still-very-busted knee. 

 But then one night their grand flagship of the revolution chugged through a particularly empty sprawl of space and began to slow down. The heat from the engine room guttered like a candle flame. Frost spiderwebbed across the thin plex of their window. Harrow’s breath showed in thin wisps of vapor as she huffed, glaring down at the pages of her book like she wanted to reprimand the cold for daring to interrupt her studies. 

 Gideon had half a mind to encourage her to try (that glare could stop a full - fledged Lyctor in their tracks, who knew what other horrifying powers it possessed?), but thought better of it when she saw the genuine exhaustion in the other girl’s eyes.

 “You doing alright over there, my vulturine vicar?” she asked. “I know it takes some time to absorb all that good bone knowledge, but you haven’t turned a page in like half an hour.”

 The thunderous look on Harrow’s face darkened further as she set her book aside with an exasperated thump. “This is ridiculous. I studied in the depths of Drearburh for years without any issue, and yet here I am struggling to focus like a novice. It isn’t even that cold.” She bit her lip as a shiver ran through her at the words. 

 “Evidence seems to suggest otherwise, o mistress of melancholy. Do you want me to go ask that guy in the supply room for another blanket? He still owes me for his son’s fencing lesson.”

 Supply room guy didn’t really owe her anything, but she knew that mentioning it would make Harrow feel better. If she could believe that the nice things Gideon did for her were actually for Totally Self - Serving, Debt - Settling reasons, she could accept them without feeling guilty.

 (Guilt had haunted Harrow more than ever upon returning to her own body, making it hard to breathe on good days and leaving her shaking with sobs on bad ones. 

It was one of those fun little things they had in common.)

 From the way Harrow’s shoulders stiffened, though, it seemed that Gideon Nav’s patented Guilt Workaround wasn’t going to be as effective as usual. She shook her head - a stiff little gesture that made her earrings rattle - then sighed. 

 “No. Thank you, though, it’s kind of you to offer.” 

 The thank you was sincere, and that was admittedly pretty nice, but all the sincerity in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Harrow was still  very obviously shivering. She looked miserable beneath her usual mask of face paint and stoicism. The dark red bead of blood-sweat trailing down her temple indicated that she'd probably tried using some kind of homeostasis theorem, but it wasn't working well enough. 

 There had to be a solution to this problem somewhere. Harrow's stubborn pride meant that she wouldn't accept help outright - she would sooner set her books on fire than admit what she thought of as a weakness - but if Gideon could play it just right, maybe she wouldn't have to. It would need to be done carefully - too sappy and she'd be uncomfortable, too straightforward and she'd balk.  Casual, Gideon decided. Nice and casual was the way to go. It would just be a matter of execution.

 "Soooo," she said at length, leaning back against the wall all cool and easy. (She folded her arms up behind her head as an afterthought, appreciating the way it made her still-atrophied-but-getting-there muscles stand out through the thin fabric of her shirt. Confidence boosts were going to be scarce and sorely needed in the conversation to come - she’d take them where she could get them.)

 Naturally, Harrow did not appreciate the change in tack or the cool-and-easy-ness. She did, however, manage to muster up a look so steeped in wary disapproval that it cut through her earlier frustration like a hot knife through bone marrow. “So.”

 “You sure about that blanket? Because really, it would only take me a second -”

 “I’m sure. Thank you.”

 “Then, um, did you want to borrow mine?”

 Harrow blinked. “You need yours.”

 “Yeah, I know! I meant that we could maybe - share. Pool our resources.” She patted the edge of her bunk gamely, then instantly regretted it when Harrow’s eyes narrowed even further. 

 “You want us to sleep together?”

 "No? I mean, technically, but no. In the literal way. Not the other way.” Well maybe the other way sometime if you wanted to but that’s a whole other weird conversation that we probably shouldn't touch with a ten foot pole or we might explode. 

 "How exactly would that work?" The caution was still heavy in Harrow's voice, but some of the disapproval had ebbed away. 

 "I mean. We'd probably need to use my bed, since my sheets aren't covered in gross bone gobbets, but you could bring your blankets over and layer 'em over mine and then we'd have twice the blankets! And, you know, body heat. Which has its perks." Even Gideon's cool-and- easy-ness faltered at that, but she bravely soldiered on. "The point is, we'd both be warm."

 "And it won't - make things weird?" 

 "Nope! Not weird. All perfectly chill, my shivering scion."

 Harrow paused for a moment, worrying her lip between her teeth. "I'll get ready for bed," she said at last, clipped and decisive. "And I'll think about it."

 "Take your time. I'll be here."

 Moments later, after the shivering scion had swept grandly out of the room, Gideon's Thinking Brain crashed unceremoniously into her Talking Brain. Things were not, in fact, going to be perfectly chill. There were going to be some logistical problems with this arrangement. Big logistical problems.

 Big logistical problems namely revolving around the mutually exclusive facts that the midnight monarch was not especially comfortable with touch, and Gideon Nav, space - bee slayer and resurrected badass, was a sleep cuddler.

 Or, well, she was in theory. She didn’t have much (any) “real world” experience to go on, but she’d woken up many, many times back on the Ninth with a bundle of blankets wrapped up in her arms or nestled close to her chest. The habit had never really embarrassed her back then - she actually kind of liked it. She felt warmer and less lonely when she had something to hold, even in the frigid emptiness of her cell. 

 But that was back then. Things were different in the here - and - now. Harrow was in the here - and - now, and Gideon would never forgive herself if she ruined things with Harrow right when their relationship was on the upswing. They were actually talking, slowly figuring out how to work together again. The furious, tearful intensity between them in the wake of their reunion had calmed and warmed into something almost like real friendship. 

 After all that had happened - everything that had gone wrong over the past year and a half - they’d found a fragile sort of peace. There was no way in Hell she was going to ruin that peace now.

 So while Harrow swished about getting ready for bed, Gideon leveled with herself and laid down some ground rules. Don’t make this weird, Nav. Make sure she’s comfortable, give her her space, and don��t think about cuddling with her. 

 ...even though it would probably be warmer, and she has shitty necro circulation and essentially no body mass so she needs all the warmth she can get, and she gets that kinda soft peaceful look on her face when - no, fuck, see? You’re doing it already. Even if she did like you like that, which she absolutely doesn’t because she’s got a good old-fashioned frostbite girl back home, that’s not what you’re here for. You’re her cav. Her sworn sword. You’re here to do your job and make sure she doesn’t get her thumbs bitten off again. That’s it.

 “You’re staring.”

 Harrow’s voice cut sharp as a bone shard through Gideon’s nervous thought - spiral. Having apparently completed her grim evening rituals, she’d settled lightly on the far edge of the to - be - shared bed, countless dark layers poofing out around her like the feathers of a posturing crow. Her face was flecked with dots of gray from scrubbing off her paint, and her short hair stuck up in messy licks of black fluff despite her increasingly irritated attempts to smooth it flat. 

 It shouldn’t have been endearing. It really, really shouldn’t have. 

 It was.

 Gideon was so screwed.

 “Shit,” she muttered, scrubbing a hand over her face to ground herself. She glanced over to meet Harrow’s eyes (and wow, was that a mistake, they were as mesmerizing a swirl of black and gold as ever), then forced a smile like she wasn’t screaming internally. “Sorry. Zoned out a little. You good to go?”

 The wryly exasperated glint in Harrow’s eyes made them glow even brighter in the dim light. “Yes, I’m ‘good to go,’ thank you. Are you, though? You look … troubled.” 

 Shit. Shit. Shit. Think nice, normal thoughts. Don’t let her know. She cannot know. 

 “I’m always good, my chthonic countess,” she lied, smooth as could be, throwing in a roguish wink for good measure. That was distractingly stupid enough, it was bound to work.  

 Harrow frowned. “Why are you blinking like that?”

 The roguish wink apparently had not worked. 

 “No reason! Just dust. In my eye. Lots of very rude dust landing right in my eye. Anyway. How are we doing this?”

 A flicker of genuine, anxious concern ghosted over Harrow’s face as her frown deepened. 

 “Gideon,” she began, in that slow, reluctant way of hers that heralded Incoming Indignity. “I know that you were the one to suggest this, but I want to impress upon you that if you aren’t - certain about it, there is another possible solution.”

 She cast around the room for a moment and reached for a massive, dusty tome at the top of a nearby stack, flipping determinedly through the pages. “I've had the idea for some time, but I only just managed to convince our commanding officer that I could use theorems 'responsibly' without their constant supervision, so I haven't been able to test it until now. Small - scale thanergetic fission reactions produce sparks of flame that, if handled extremely carefully, could give off enough heat - "

 “Wait.” Gideon held up a hand, her own anxious brain jolting back online at the word flame. “Wait, wait, wait. Harrow. Seriously? The concern is sweet, don’t get me wrong, but your other solution is death - fire?”

 “I said that it was a possibility,” she snapped back, that old brittle defensiveness calcifying over the vulnerability in her voice. Her posture straightened with a great rustling of robes: shoulders back, chin high, eyes gleaming with disdainful pride as the bones scattered about their room twitched to life. Looking for all the world like she had when they were ten - twelve - fourteen - sixteen, bitter and vicious and spoiling for a fight. 

 She seemed to realize it right when Gideon did. Her eyes widened, then closed. The bowstring tension in her shoulders slowly ebbed away as her half - formed constructs clattered to the floor. “Sorry,” she said at last, her voice a threadbare murmur. “I’m sorry. That was - uncalled for.”

 “It’s a reflex. I get it.” And she did - she’d done the same thing countless times, had a hand on her sword and a barbed insult on her tongue without even thinking about it. 

 Another one of those fucked up things they had in common. 

 An uneasy silence settled between them, broken only by the rumbling hum of the engines, the thud of footsteps in the hall. 

 “I meant it, you know,” Harrow said, after a long moment. “About other options. It was a half - baked and immature attempt, but I wanted to give you an out if you were uncomfortable.”

 “Yeah, I know, my sepulchral sage. I appreciate it. Half - baked immaturity and all.” She bumped her shoulder gently against Harrow’s, then flopped back on the bunk to stare up at the low ceiling. “Are we, like, committing to honesty hour tonight? How deep into feelings do you want to get?”

 “As deep as is comfortable.”

 “That’s what she said.”

 “It’s a reasonable thing for her to say.”

 Another hush fell over them, marginally more comfortable than the last, as Gideon worried her lip between her teeth and counted the cracks in the ceiling above her. There were nine of them in total. Go fucking figure.

 A bony finger poked her in the side after a few cycles of counting. “Were you going to elaborate, or was that all just a set - up for one of your charming jokes?”

 “I can’t believe it took you eighteen years to finally admit that they’re charming, but no, that’s not why I said it. I’ll lay bare my tender squishy heart for you, penumbral lady. Because you asked so nicely.” 

  Because I think you might already have it. 

 No avoiding it now. Might as well bite the bullet and dive in. 

 “I was on board with the cuddle thing from the beginning, but I felt like you wouldn’t be, and I panicked. You probably already knew that because you’re way more creepily observant than you have any right to be, but there it is. Out in the open.” 

 She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could just run away and hide from the other girl’s piercing gaze. “I just don’t want to fuck things up with you, Harrow. I feel like we’ve got a kind of good thing going now. You haven’t called me a useless halfwit in forever, and I haven’t called you a heinous bitch in forever, and I haven’t wanted to. That’s unheard of for us. I don’t want it to go away.”

 Her voice cracked, and the most damning words burst forth like flowers through concrete: “I don’t want to give you a reason to shut me out again.”

 The memories of those nine months flashed in fragmented mosaic through her mind - the slick stone walls of the well, the freezing churn of the water, the burn in her muscles as she desperately thrashed up toward the surface and reached for someone who didn’t even know she was there. The gut - wrenching loneliness that defined her entire fucking life coalescing in that pit of brackish darkness. The chant rattling on loop in her mind as the water pulled her under: Harrow, what happened, what did you do, why the fuck did you leave me here, I had a purpose, I threw myself on that goddamned rail for a reason, was that not enough for you? 

 Was I not enough for you?

 A cool, fine - boned hand laced with hers and squeezed, just once. The memories blurred. 

 “Gideon,” the voice that had haunted her all that time said. “You know - you have to know that isn’t why I did it.”

 “Why did you, then?”

 A tiny hitch of breath. A soft, almost incredulous laugh. Then:

 “Because I loved you.”

 The words hung heavy in the frozen air. 

 “You - what?”

 “I loved you.” She said it so simply. Like it was something she’d come to terms with long ago. “I loved you beyond reason, and for once in my life I wanted to do right by you and keep you safe as you did me. The motivation doesn’t justify a moment of it, I won’t pretend it does, and I can’t even begin to erase the hurt it caused you. But I need you to understand that it was never because of something you did wrong. You are good, darling. Good to the core. You always have been.”

 Bright spots bloomed before Gideon’s eyes as her reeling mind fought to catch up. Three thoughts sprang unbidden to the forefront:

 Mmf.

 And: Darling?

 And:

“Loved. You said ‘loved.’ Why the past tense?”

 She sat there, staring blankly up at the ceiling, half - expecting a don’t be presumptuous, Griddle or something even remotely normal, at least. What she got instead was another laugh, halting and shaky and suddenly deeply bitter. The hand in hers went rigid and drew away. 

 “I came to my senses. I remembered the countless awful things I’ve done. Saw myself for the leech that I am. I’ve taken and taken and taken from you, over and over again, torn away at your life like a scavenger, I can’t steal anything more  - “

 “Who said anything about stealing?”

 For the first time since the grand awkward commencement of honesty hour Gideon felt a genuine smile bloom across her face. “Come on, Nonagesimus, give me some credit. You honestly think I would have stuck around this long if I didn’t know what I was giving you? If I wasn’t getting something out of it too?”

 “What could you possibly be getting out of it?”

 “You. I like you. Like, a lot. More than I ever thought I would. And I know the brain weasels are going to start yammering about how that’s impossible, and you don't deserve it, and we've still got a mountain of baggage left to work through, but I’ve thought about it a lot and I really mean it. Having you with me has made this whole shitty thing infinitely less shitty."

 With a surge of sudden bravery and dizzy emotion, she reached out to take Harrow's hand again and, giving her ample time to pull away, pressed a feather - light kiss to the back. “If you want me here too, sunshine - as your cav or your friend or something else - then I'm not going anywhere."

 Harrow closed her eyes, took a deep shuddering breath, and - smiled. A real one, slow and hesitantly sweet, lighting up her careworn face. "I need to think about it - we both should think about it. But I do want you here, in whatever way you want to be."

 "Yeah? Cool."

 "Cool."

 Silence settled upon them for the third time that night, but this time it was different. It was soft and tentative, fragile and new, like budding grave - flowers reaching for the sun. First flowers, the both of them, clawing up out of the grit and finding a way to bloom.

 "Should we go to sleep now?" Harrow asked at last, her rasping voice low and quiet. "It's getting late."

 "We probably should. Cam and Pal are gonna kill us if we're not up by 6:00 tomorrow. Are you still up for this, though? Like, the whole 'two girls, chilling in a military bunk, zero feet apart 'cause they're freezing and also maybe like each other' thing?"

 "Yes. On one condition."

 "Anything."

 "This might be difficult for you."

 "Seriously, Harrow, just tell me. Name it and it's done."

 "No sex jokes."

 She heaved a sigh, mock - exasperated and so stupidly fond. "As you wish, my dearest darling death omen. As you wish."

 It took a while to get comfortable - with Harrow's knobby elbows jabbing Gideon in the stomach, Gideon's clunky knee brace getting tangled in the sheets, the blankets collectively giving up and puddling on the floor at least ten times - but eventually, like everything else, they made it work. They fumbled through the sleep - cuddling confession with an admirable lack of panic on both sides, culminating in a firm agreement that they would let each other know the moment they were at all uncomfortable and an "I trust you" from Harrow so pure in its sincerity that it would be ringing through Gideon's mind for at least a myriad.

 Harrow was the first to fall asleep, curled up tight in a cocoon of black fabric, the dark crown of her head just barely brushing the sunburst scar on Gideon's chest. Her shallow breaths fell into an even, steady rhythm, interspersed with whistling snores that Gideon was definitely going to tease her about when her heart was less of a melted puddle of goo. 

 The minutes slipped by warm and slow as drops of honey as her own eyes grew heavier, fluttering closed. She gave her necromancer - her Lyctor - her beautiful baneful bone empress one last sleepy smile, and drifted off.

 (When Camilla went to shake her sparring partner awake the next morning, she found the two of them still sound asleep, wrapped up in each other's arms and looking more peaceful than she'd ever seen them. She huffed a laugh, muttered "finally," and let them be.)

[loosesodamarble]

How about Lorelei for the character ask? 😁 Or if it's supposed to be just BC characters, then how about Finral?

Sun... You… 😳 You want to ask about an oc of mine? 🥺😭 (Don’t worry, those are happy tears!)

Of course I'll answer about Lorelei (and Finral)! I genuinely didn't intend for anyone to ask about my ocs but now that you have I just gotta do it! I really don't talk about my other ocs too much (which is my fault as their creator) so thank you for giving me the chance to just go all out!

..........

Lorelei Koascky

How I feel about this character: Lorelei's concept was one of those "my brain grabbed this and won't let go until I give it attention" sort of ideas. Her concept is basically a combination of Genya Shinazugawa from Demon Slayer (character who can't use the series standard power system and adds a gun) and Izuku Midoriya from My Hero Academia (character not born with power is a fanatic over powers). I do wish I came up with more ideas regarding her interacting with other characters.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: None! Lorelei is asexual and aromantic. Her one true love is magic.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Her and Julius have the ultimate magic-loving friendship. Julius would go wandering around Clover finding new magic and then when he comes back to Lorelei, she'll geek out over it too and probably write a ten-page essay about the mechanics and theoretical applications of it.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Not enough people know about her for there to be popular and unpopular opinions but here's something I think people would disagree with: Lorelei is just like Asta, with no capability for magic. I think some people would be upset with making Asta less special but I think it's important to Lorelei. Even if she can't use any magic, she loves the concept and how it exists in the world.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Uh... How do I address this question with an oc? Oh, how about I share something about how they affect canon? For Lorelei, she'd be watching the Magic Knight Entrance Exam and when none of the captains raise their hands for Asta, she goes "no takers? Okay, hey kid why not work with me?" Asta proclaimed he was going to be the Wizard King and she points out that she works directly with him so it'd be a great opportunity. However, Asta still ends up with the Black Bulls because he wants to help people as a Magic Knight. Even so, everyone else present is a little more aware of Asta because one of the Wizard King's close associates made an offer to him and not Yuno with his four-leaf grimoire (there was less opportunity but you get the idea).

My OTP: Lorelei and Julius. Strictly platonically. Julius needs a co-worker who will enable him.

My cross over ship: Let's see Lorelei meet Lady Nagant from MHA. Not romantically but I'd like to see them doing target practice together. And heck, Lorelei would totally be down for learning about Quirks. They're not magic but they're just, if not more, interesting.

A headcanon fact: Or just a fact since I created Lorelei. If I were to write a more complete Black Clover fic involving my ocs, I would definitely find a way for one of Lorelei's guns to end up in Asta's grimoire. She wouldn't even get mad because "oh my gosh that grimoire just absorbs things?! 🤩 And I have a student for gunmanship?! 👀” Also, gives her even more reason to want to research the grimoire. It's one thing for Yuno's grimoire to be able to absorb the spell used to summon the wind spirit. It's another thing for a ragged and peculiar grimoire to absorb a whole physical item!

.....

Finral Roulacase

How I feel about this character: Finral is very funny and likable. He’s a comical loser but in a way that makes me sympathize with him. He can be cowardly and brave. And his struggle to connect with Langris is touching. I want a friend like him in my life.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Finesse mainly. Little bit of Yami because it's popular with a couple friends.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Vanessa. They are the elder siblings of the Black Bulls and their teamwork at Seabed Temple and the Witches' Forest was really cool. Also, he needs to be friends with Nacht so they can vice captain the squad together. I also have him being friends with my ocs Helia and Josele, though the relationships are wildly different.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Finral is… kind of useless. Most every mage can use a broom to fly places and others have spells for traveling or mobility. Sure transportation spacial magic is useful for fast travel but it’s not any good for traversing to new locations, which standard mobility spells can accomplish.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: We recently got more reconciliation, and even teamwork, between the space bros. I just wish it didn't end how it did, that being too soon.

My OTP: Finral x Finesse. They're both such sweet people and Finral's humorous determination to be good enough for her really did endear me to him.

My cross over ship: I can’t really think of anyone. Sorry. 😔

A headcanon fact: He knows how to cook. Before Charmy came along, he was the main chef of the Black Bulls. He's decent enough, can get a nice sear on a steak and make good sauces. Nothing too fancy but he's better than just toast and cereal.

[lyeekha]

In the mirror he could see Ernest stood behind him, tie tucked safely into his vest, sleeves rolled up and a towel slung over one shoulder. He had ushered Lemony to a seat with a headrest, politely remaining in eyeline and not making any surreptitious-looking movements. He had removed his suit jacket and pointed out that, really, you needed to be topless for this, and Lemony had said oh yes, of course, as if this had slipped his mind instead of caused him to hesitate, and taken off his shirt, and nobody had made a fuss about it, and he had actually relaxed, and now Ernest was rubbing something into his neck that smelt... incredible. It smelt of summer.

The manager was obviously skilled, that hadn't been a lie. His palms worked the oil across his flesh with just the right firmness and friction to make his skin tingle. His fingertips pressed confidently into the exact hollows that made him hum with appreciation. He wanted more than anything to drift off and allow himself to be looked after, but Lemony was still playing the game. He had to be. As casually as possible, he watched Ernest's reflection. The man seemed totally absorbed in his work. In fact, Ernest looked more peaceful than he had ever seen him before. The enigmatic smile didn't seem as forced, though still impenetrable. A slight, strange frown of concentration was on his brow. Something ancient stirred in the back of Lemony's mind. He could believe that this was a genuine pleasure for Ernest, no matter what other motives were in play. The attraction of a simple, intimate, uncomplicated, repetitive task. Lemony cleared his throat and summoned a more jovial tone.

Thank you!!! (Pick a passage or comic chapter of mine for commentary)

this ones from Double Edged so, spoilers for that. sorry if its too much and maybe incomprehensible i just wrote everything i thought in a stream

The idea of rival spies in a truce having an unspoken etiquette about making sure the other person can see what they’re doing clearly at all times really amused me and also seemed like a natural progression for people who just, Live Like This all the time. Kind of like the body language animals develop to deliberately signal trust and lack of threat? Like when cats do the long blink or prey animals make a big show of laying down near you. Of course then you have it as a reassuring gesture, and that gesture being false, and I’ve set myself up for the whole rest of the thing to be about successfully and realistically (enough) distracting Lemony without him noticing.

Humans are the animals that do this too, of course. it is the same thing as normal body language just made more pointed. I have Ernest as having complete control over his body language and complete observation of everyone elses, in a Derren Brown type reading/manipulation style.

I like slipping dialogue into the narration here because it cuts out a lot of stuff that’s boring to read and skips a bit of time by having Lemony reflect on things that have just happened. the whole thing is in past tense but this is like, a few minutes further past tense than everything else. Means I can just put the pertinent things. Also it was very important for this bit to happen very fast so that you get his POV sense of being swept along with ‘naturally unfolding’ events. It buries the fact that Ernest now has possession of Lemony’s jacket by making the second half of that sentence much more engaging and interesting looking and easy to move on to - which is exactly what Ernest is doing by saying something distracting as he performs the natural gesture. It’s all about giving the reader the same experience as Lemony, that’s the goal for this one.

Lem is a bit nervous about taking clothes off - which is reasonable, actually - but also he’s a bit precious about it in general because of a lifetime habit of showing skin equalling danger (tattoo) and being vulnerable (without disguise or situation-appropriate clothing). I’m thinking of socks and the symbolic importance of clothes in atwq, the reliance on the disguise kit forever, the scene-appropriate netflix outfits to blend in all the time. That’s whats canon anyway - this all also contributes to my headcanon of trans Lemony, and I made sure to imply top surgery scars in the illustration. Again, vital to remember that its Lem’s POV (even though it’s not in first person), so ‘nobody made a fuss about it’ both tells you his relief that no comment about his body (whether salacious or surprise or mockery) was made and cements that he was nervous in the first place. 

Of course Ernest wouldnt say anything, or even visibly react at all. He is a practiced expert of the service industry.

This is also in contrast with Jacques, who has complete confidence in showing skin. Lem feigning absent-mindedness to disguise hesitation feeds into the overall ongoing thing of Lemony trying to be smooth, and I reckon hes’s coping by pulling directly from how he’s seen Jacques act. This whole seductive wiles angle isn’t really Lemony’s scene and his awkward phrasing and justifications in his own thoughts about it reflects this. Pretending to be going along with stuff he can do, but the playful flirty aspect is different and throws him a bit. So its pretty much all from what he knows of J’s playbook. Of course Ernest isn’t fooled by the faux casualness, and Lemony knows he isnt, but its the polite etiquette to go along with face value that makes everyone more comfortable. Lot of that in this fic. 

‘and he had actually relaxed’ the word ‘actually’ implying his surprise as he’d been intending to only pretend to relax - same with ‘that hadn’t been a lie’, as in, well *that* at least was true. Lem is double checking literally everything Ernest says. The fact that he is actually a practiced masseuse sells the idea to Lemony that this is not just a ruse to get his top off or whatever. And at the same time reassures the reader that Lem is not actually being a complete idiot - he is constantly suspicious of everything as always, and remains so throughout

It smelt of summer.... I wanted a feeling more than a specific scent. Its how it makes him feel. He can’t pinpoint it exactly because its too evocative. To me, smelling of summer evokes warm spice and mango. Also, the sudden switch from a factual barrage to slow and conceptual is a strong feeling. 

The fast pacing and then the sudden slow at the end of the paragraph like a sigh. Like the feeling of being swept along and then being a bit bewildered, bit ‘i can’t beleive this is actually happening’, bit ‘how did i get here’, bit proper relaxing. 

Then slow and meandering pacing, to match Ernest’s hands. Palm oil. Flesh Firmness Friction.

Ernest said pointedly earlier that the mirror was for Lemony to watch him, to feel safe. So he is well aware - and is in fact encouraging - that Lemony study his reflection at this point. However, I hope I managed to get a good genuine vibe in here. Ernest enjoys this, and is finding it relaxing. Probably the actual genuine feeling from him is a huge advantage to calming Lemony down, Lem can probably pick up on fakeness very well subconsciously, so the verisimilitude is Ernest’s best weapon. Also, he wants for selfish reasons. He doesn’t get physical contact because of his position, and when he does its not someone that understands why. And Lemony understands him. And he understands Lemony. Better than most on their respective sides do. Lem even acknowledges in his own narration - 'genuine pleasure... no matter what other motives were in play’ - that the truth and the trick are not mutually exclusive. he gets it.

Very intentional focus on enigmatic smile and brow in quick succession, which happens repeated through the story - yes we are invoking Ellington this fic, more quietly at first and then stronger later. A stirring of something ancient, you might say. 

And yes, the mind naturally wanders to other simple, intimate, uncomplicated, repetitive tasks and he has to shut that line of thought down immediately, something Lemony gets increasingly worse at doing as the fic goes on. Shoving words like ‘pleasure’ and ‘stirring’ and that technically accurate description together heavily implies Lem’s growing arousal. Just to really spell that out. Just in case. If it’s missed it would be there subliminally enough im sure.

Thanks for asking and a great choice of section, I havent read this commentary back so here it is have it immediately before i remember what i forgot and edit forever

[destieldailynews]

Meet the Staff!

Here at the DDN we have a lovely crew of hard working hellers devoted to getting you the facts when you need them. We’ve each written bios introducing ourselves which are located beneath the cut. If you’re interested in joining the team, here is a post about what we need.

A note: if you didn’t get a response to your application it is possible there was a typo in your blog url that kept us from reaching out. if you applied and would like to know the status of your application, go ahead and send a DM to @lateral-org.

Hi! I’m Lina, (she/her) and I write the news! I’m actually quite a new addition to the fandom, as I only got properly involved at the beginning of quarantine, but I am already invested enough to be reading a copious amount of fan fiction and writing an essay on the queer representation in the show. My favourite quote has to be “happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just being. It’s in just saying it,” and that is why I will never get over 15x18.

Hey! I’m T (@lateral-org), my pronouns are she/they and I’m the main editor for DDN. I used to be obsessed with SPN in 2015 but stopped watching regularly around season twelve. 15x18 sucked me back in, and now I’m invested not just in the show, but all of the stuff going on behind the scenes. I joined DDN because keeping up with #destielgate has basically just become a hobby of mine, and I wanted to make the details more accessible to anyone else who was interested. I’m a deangirl through and through, and my favorite quote is “I have no idea, but what I do have is a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude. I’ll figure it out.” 

Howdy! I’m Jas (@you-changedmedean), she/her, and I’m a researcher/editor for DDN, plus doing a bit of blog maintenance. I’ve been casually around the fandom since high school but in 2018 is when I got emotionally involved. I’m currently in college and I began my Tumblr only this year. I’ve already received so much support from everyone in the fandom and it’s been the craziest ride. Even if S/P/N is over, there’s still so much to uncover from the last season. With future conventions on the way as well as actors speaking up more, DDN will be able to provide relevant and accurate information to the fandom in a timely manner. Favorite character is Castiel and if my username (you-changedmedean) can tell you anything, it’s also my favorite quote. 

Hi! I'm Amber, she/her, (@my-people-skillls-are-rusty) and I am a researcher/editor for DDN. I've been in the fandom since around 2015 but got a lot more active in the last couple of years. I don't really know why I joined DDN, I just had a lot of free time and was very invested in the fandom, so might as well have it directed somewhere. My favourite character is either Dean or Castiel, I can't choose between them.  I also don't have a favourite quote as there are so many to choose from, but as its my user name I will go with 'my "people skills" are "rusty"'

Hey! I’m Ally, she/her (@larandomfangirl) and I am a researcher/writer/editor for DDN. I started watching Supernatural back when I was in 8th grade in 2017, and have remained caught up and active in the fandom since then. I joined DDN because 15x18, and everything that has happened since then, made me even more invested in the show and I wanted to help spread factual information about whatever occurs next. My favorite character is either Sam or Cas (I blame being a younger sibling for that), and one of my favorite quotes is “happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.”

Hi! I am Saffa (she/her) (@castiel-holmeshasthephonebox), and I am one of the writers on DDN! I was introduced to Supernatural by tumblr only a year ago, and since then I have been completely hooked. First, I fell in love with Dean and then I fell in love with the creative side of the fandom, all the fics and edits, and I just tumbled deeper down the destiel hell-hole. My favourite quote is "I'm hunted, I rebelled, and I did all of it for you."

Hey! I’m El (they/them)  (@desperately-human) I am one of the writer/editors here at DDN. I only started paying attention to Supernatural this fall (november 5, really) but since then, having every update on #destielgate has been my main hobby. Almost everything I know I have absorbed through memes, liveblogs, and those amvs on youtube. I’ve never actually seen an episode all the way through. That said, upon reflection i believe I am a Cas girl gender neutral term. Cliche but intense, I like “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” 

Hello! My name is Liz (@bart-ska-mpson) and I am a researcher/writer. Got into SPN in 2014-ish because of superwholock tumblr peer pressure, and whattaknow, it became my favorite of all of them, mainly because of the sheer power of Destiel! I read meta like the morning newspaper back then. I became frustrated by the end of s10 and by the time Lucifer possessed the president I just could not take it anymore (if only I kept watching til Lily Sunder :’(...). But really I never totally lost faith in canon Destiel and  words cannot describe the feeling I had when I heard through Tumblr that it finally happened. I’ve been so obsessed with trying to figure out what's “really happening” so I figured I might as well help out here. My favorite quote is the whole conversation Dean and Cas have when he finds him in Purgatory. “I prayed to you Cas, every night!” “I know” </33333

Hi! I'm Kat (@team-free-memes), she/her, and I'm a researcher and editor here at the DDN. I was internet-pressured into watching the show after seeing so many posts about it online. I've been in the fandom for over a year. I joined the DDN because I've always been an avid Destiel shipper and season 16 has gripped me tight and raised me from sanity, so I want to help clear things up for other fans lost in the sea of conspiracy theories to ensure that the truth circulates. I can't choose between Cas and Jack for the title of my favorite character, but in any case I am definitely Dean coded. My favorite quote is, "Now I realize that there is no righteous path. It's just people trying to do their best in a world where it's far too easy to do your worst."

Hey! My name is Lana (@curvedsphere), she/they, and I’m a part of the research, editing, and blog teams at DDN. I started watching the show when season 11 was airing, but didn’t get into fandom until early season 13, where I fell hard and fast into this community and have been here ever since! It’s also when I started actively and avidly shipping Destiel (I was just a casual shipper before then). I joined the DDN because I’m so truly invested in season 16 - in finding/figuring out as much of the truth as possible about the finale and the rest of season 15. My favourite character is probably Cas, but I love all of TFW 2.0 and Wayward a lot. I have so many favourite quotes that I love, but not-surprisingly I think I have to go with either “Happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in just being”, or “for love”.

Hi! I’m Steph (@stephlovessubway), she/her and I’m a researcher at DDN. I started watching the show in 2007 (on YouTube no less) and then watching live with season 4 in 2008. I have seen the highs (season 4 and season 5) and the lows (season 7) on Tumblr, and took a break for a few years and started back with season 10. I rewatched all the series in the first UK lockdown and managed to witness the wild end of season 15. I’ve shipped destiel from the beginning, mainly because Cas is my favourite character, and have thoroughly enjoyed season 16 on Tumblr. My favourite quote is Cas’s monologue at the beginning of The Man Who Would Be King.

[nomiliy]

I like seeing how different people view Darius (Leonard) Shan as a character. 

For me, there are only three versions of Darius that I’ll ever write: The Darius of the doomed timeline, the Darius of the new timeline, and the Darius of the altered timeline where Darren and Steve reconnect. 

Darius is a character that I feel a lot of people project themselves into, and with good reason. He objectively had a horrible father and a horrible relationship with his father, which I think a lot of people relate to intrinsically. But for me, Darius’s issues with his family was always a part of his character rather than his entire character. This goes back to an issue I have with the Shandom in general, and fandom in general, where we twist and shape a character to reflect ourselves so much that the character is lost. 

So, with all that, here are some head canons I have for Darius that pretty much transend my AUs- and that I feel expand on his character in a realistic way. These don’t touch on his time with the vampires or Vampaneze much, but I might make another post detailing those HCs later~

- Annie was raised Roman Catholic, but didn’t press that on Darius. They maybe went to church for Christmas and Easter, but that was mainly his grandparents doing.

- Darius and Oggy became best friends because Mrs. Bas, Oggy’s mum, use to babysit the boys after Dermot and Angela moved away. 

- Darius got into a lot of fights in primary school, mainly because people picked on Oggy so much. 

- Despite their issues, Darius is very close with his mum. 

- Darius is an excellent shot with ranged weapons. He has spectacular accuracy and reloading speed, something his father (and even Gannen) are quite proud of. 

- He’s a Londoner through and through, but oscillates between staying exactly where he is and picking everything up and leaving.  

- Darius speaks English and Gaelic fluently. His grandparents, particularly Angela, wanted him to be close to his roots.  

- He’s a huge rap and hiphop fan. Some of his favorite artists are Run the Jewels, Eminem, Wiley, Mac Miller, and Skepta. 

- Darius unknowingly thinks of Gannen as his grandfather. Despite being short and distant with Darius, Gannen has a soft spot for the boy. 

- He’s a really active kid, and generally just really good at sports. He played a lot of football as a child, and that translated into him doing track and field when he got older. He’s in both the football and track & field club, alternating with the on/off seasons. 

- Darius is a decent student. He doesn’t really ‘absorb’ the information, but he does memorize materials for tests and then dumps the information afterwards. He’s great with highly structured concepts, but open-ended questions with no objectively right answer leave him struggling.

- He’s a night owl, and enjoys going out to the park, fast food restaurants, and convince stores late at night with Oggy.

- He’s somewhat of a party kid once high school starts. Darius doesn’t go full on balls to wall crazy, mainly cause Oggy is looking out for him, but he’s what you’d call a ‘functional wild child.’ 

- Darius is great with all types of animals. His mum never let him have pets because they’d be a hassle, but they have a few stray cats and dogs that hang around the house. He would often feed them scraps from dinner or breakfast, and leave out his jackets or jumpers during the colder months for them to bundle up with.

- Darius has the keys to Steve’s childhood home, and stays there sometimes to get away from it all. He also throws the occasional rager. Suck on that, dad.

What about y’alls head canons? Do you share any of these? Are your HCs popular or controversial? Do they completely contradict mine? Let me know! 

Darren | Steve

[xeiniex]

Hi, I just had to say that I loved your fanfic fisjjfksjdj I'm only on the first 2 chapters but this is just MMM great. So what would some tips about writing be? -mod chocolate

Aaaa thank you so much, i'm glad you're enjoying so far! And yay, I love giving writing advice, whooo!!!

Some Irregular Writing Tips Under the cut!

Describe things in unusual ways! Is your cat "soft and brown" or is he "a mewling bread loaf"? Does the garbage "smell awful" or "reek of a thousand week-old fish tacos"? Does the rain just "patter" on the roof, or does it "patter, until the trees are shaken by the wind, and then it downpours"? Is the character "tired" or are they "walking around in a thick, blurry fog"? Describing things with quick, but different descriptions is a great way to work imagery in reader's minds. Descriptions like "he shot daggers at her" or "the thunder shook the windows" are fine, but use them sparingly because of how overused they sometimes feel. Try to come up with your own descriptions of things, and other people will copy you!

Just a general tip: learn to LOVE revision. Look, your story is getting better! The characters are getting deeper, the descriptions are getting more vivid, the grammar is more consistent!! Yaaay, revision! Revision will feel like a chore at first (not as bad as editing, ugh) but teach yourself to feel excited to revise your work! Push yourself to make it better, and have more fun improving things than just plain writing them down. Add a character's internal thoughts where there was plain description before! Rewrite that scene of them cuddling and focus more on emotion, less on touch. Smile to yourself when you slip little jokes in here or there. Revising is a party, learn to love it as soon as you can!

When plotting, work with what you want to write. For streetlight, I wanted to write a inner-city criminal romance. I worked around that idea, keeping it in mind as I developed characters and their actions. Don't think about what's "realistic", think about what's fun, and work with it. In another story of mine, I wrote a species of people that cry blood. Whyyy, exactly, did they cry blood? Cause I thought it was cool, so I worldbuilt that fact into the story (they cry blood because their ancestors worshipped the ancient God of torture). In fanfic, think about the specific details you love about the characters, and write around them. Like the way a character dances in canon? Write your story so you have a scene of them dancing. Think a character has a fascinating opinion on the economy? Outline your story so it makes sense he would complain about it. Let yourself be convoluted for a while and just think about what you want to write.

In fanfic, do your best to keep characters in character. Ooc characters can really take people out of a story, so do your best to keep them consistent with canon. I know sometimes I'm like "Wait, but this character is actually (insert description)! Crap, now the story isn't as easy to let myself be absorbed into!" Just keep that in mind for fanfiction specifically.

Last one: Grammar has a lot of really stupid rules, and I hate saying this, but try your best to follow the important ones at least, especially if you're writing a story to get published by a publisher. Seriously, there are 500 page books on the rules of grammar in this language, it's nuts. If you're writing for fun, like fanfic, then follow the important ones. Capitalize, complete sentences, start new paragraphs when the scene changes, avoid fragments, run-ons and coma splices. Besides that, though... start sentences with "And" or "Yet". Use double negatives (I've never not had cheesecake) if you want to! Put exclamation points in your descriptions (the bass drum was too loud! We couldn't hear anything!). Don't go overboard or anything, always make sure everything is legible, but like... the English language has a lot of rules. Rules are fun to break.

5 irregular writing tips!!!

[curechocolattymilk]

TES V OC Thingie

[Got tagged by @jessaryss​ ! ]

Pause your game! Wherever your OC is in their game currently, tell me about their story so far.

✧✧✧ General

Current Level: 56

Name: Jeer-Tei Perdes

Name Meaning: Literally got it from a name generator lol. But lore wise it was a name gifted to them in honor of an Argonian who served beside Tei’s mother during the Great War

Pronouns: They/Them

Age: Early 30s where they are story wise???

Race(s): Argonian

Place of Origin: Hammerfell

Pick A Theme Song For Them: oof that's tough... From a Crowded Wound or maybe even Firstwake? If you really played around w personal interpretation/the lyrics that is haha

✧✧✧ Locations

Where Did You Begin Their Game?: Argonian Assemblage, Windhelm (Alternative Start)

Where Are They Currently In Your Game?: Whiterun

What Are They Doing There?: Just finished attending a party held in their honor (Post Blood of Kings)

Homes?: Breezehome, Proudspire, Lakeview & Autmnwatch

# of Locations Discovered?: 274

Dungeons Cleared: 104

Misc. Quests Completed: 87

Favorite Areas and/or Locations: Falkreath / Lakewview Manor. Both areas are where Tei heads off to in order to collect their thoughts/feel some sense of calm.

✧✧✧ Main Quest

Are They Dragonborn / Do They Know It At This Point?: Yes & yes

How Do They Feel About Being Dragonborn: It's...complicated, being thrust into the role of savior by gods of the Cult, which in turn are followed by the folk who see you lesser than them. Tei already has a dislike towards the Divines, this doesn't really help lol

Main Quests Completed: 21

Where Are They In The Main Story Line: Alduin's dead, currently trying to ignore the Civil War as long as they can before the Empire forces its hand into forcing them to join their ranks

Dragon Souls Absorbed: In total overall? 147. The amount currently stored in Tei? 45

Words of Power Learned: 64

Shouts Mastered: 21

Favorite Shout: Firebreath / Dragonrend

✧✧✧ Combat

Most Used Weapon(s): Daedric war axe OR Dragonbone battle axe. Tei technically has both on them at all times during adventuring, alongside a shield, so which they used depends on the situation/which they grab fastest.

Combat Style: Two/One-handed tank. Main tactic is to rush in, cause as much damage/chaos as possible to shake up the opponent, & clean up what the ranged attackers of the party (usually Rumarin, Inigo and/or Lucien) weren't able to deal with.

Armor Type / Level In It: HEAVY ARMOR BABYYYYY (Level 100 + 35 extra points via enchantments)

# of Training Sessions: 99 in-game, lore wise its a lot of self-teaching/keeping their skills learned from Hammerfell sharp. Some of these are magic but lore-wise this doesn't happen cus Tei is not a magic user, save for shouts. I just did those in-game for exp OR so I can help Lucien raise his magic skills :'D

Who Taught Them?: In-game?? Fuuuck so many npcs. Lore-wise? They learned this from their schooling in Hammerfell, going off the canon-lore that it's p much expected for everyone to have a grasp on combat & weaponry! Though they did learn a few things from Kaidan & Anum-La.

Favorite Enemy Type: Dragons! Despite the fact Tei does not have the best magic resistance, it's one hell of a challenge they love to meet.

Least Favorite Enemy Type: Automatons, because of a bad experience with them as a child. Also Undead, because they were raised not to disturb them & it just feels so wrong having to fight them/go into tombs.

People Killed: 945

Animals Killed: 749 (Hunterborn makes hunting fun lol)

Undead Killed: 766

Automatons Killed: 105

Daedra Killed: 136

✧✧✧ Magic

Favorite School(s): None, actually. Destruction is okay though....they guess

Most Used Spell(s): Firebreath or Dragon Aspect. Tei doesn't consider shouts spells though. It's totally different guys shut up they ain't no smelly mage gods

Spells Learned: 9 in-game, mainly due to the spells you're kinda forced to learn for some quests/the ones you automatically know

Items Enchanted: 19 (Tei technically doesn't enchant, and wont next playthrough for sure I wont give in this time >:[ )

College of Winterhold Quests Completed: 8

Where Are They At In The Questline?: Main quest is done bcus i dont like seeing unfinished quests in my journal lmao. Tei's involvement is completely different from canon though in my take. Moreso was hired as a guard for the expedition & was, unwillingly, dragged into the rest of the mess. Is not offered the Archmage position, that went straight to Tolfdir.

Opinions on Magical Guilds (Arcane University, Winterhold, Psijics, Synod, Radiant Dark, etc.): As they get older, they tolerate the guild & magic users more n more, BUT, Tei grew up in an environment that frowns upon the practice of magic, & it shows. They mainly mistrust necromancers/illusionists & still hold onto that belief that reliance on magic, especially for combat, is a weakness.

Bold words for someone with shit magic resistance.

✧✧✧ Crime

Current Gold: 10,640

How Did They Acquire Their Gold?: Odd jobs, selling a lot of the items they made/harvested from smithing & hunting (jewelers are their go-to hirers bcus Tei is great at getting things like ivory), Dwemer ruin diving (they refuse to loot the tombs), also yknow....being part of the Dark Brotherhood helps

Largest Bounty On Their Head: 11,240

For...?: Unfortunately they did not stand down when they were being falsely accused of murder in Markarth. First time Tei called down dragons (Sahrotaar, specifically, Tei managed to get command of Miraak's dragons post-Dragonborn) to absolutely smite some fools.

Current Bounty: None! They're good at not getting caught/threatening and/or bribing guards. :)

Locks Picked: 15 i think?

Jail Time: 1, Cidhna Mine

Jail Escapes: 1, teamed up w the Forsworn lol

Murders: 28

Assaults: 307....In their defense people keep getting in their way during dragon attacks

Items Stolen: 37, most of them from the nobles of Windhelm

Thieves Guild Quests Completed: N/A (wont be doing this storyline unless i cant find a mod that'll let me get the shouts locked behind it)

Dark Brotherhood Quests Completed: 20

Where Are They At In Those Questlines?: DB is completed main arc wise!

✧✧✧ Relationships

Relationship Status: Married to two lovely fellas

Current Companions: atm? none

Housecarls: Lydia & Rayya

Friends (outside of party): Zora Fair-Child, Inigo, Lucien, Anum-La, Morndas, Aela the Huntress, Nazir, Babette, Scouts-Many-Marshes, Isobel, Madesi

Children: Khash, Chases-Starlight, Ram-Ku. (going of where Tei is now - Otero & Mei come around later on in Tei's story!)

Romantic Interest(s): Kaidan & Rumarin.

Sexual Orientation:

GAY

✧✧✧ Religion

Pantheon: Yokudan, with a hint of Hircine worship in there

Patron Deity(ies): From the Yokudan pantheon: Tei mainly views HoonDing as their main patron, but also prays to/pays respect to Satakal.

They are also Hircine's champion.

Daedric Quests Completed: 3 (Hircine, Vile, Dagon - the last Tei didn't really help, moreso pissed off)

Aedric Quests Completed: 1 if you count the whole Alduin thing I guess?

How Devout Are They?: Tei is rather devout, esp to their Yokudan patrons, praying or making offerings daily. They aren't the type to really push it in your face though, but have no issues answering questions one might have.

How Do They Feel About Talos Worship?: Deep down they acknowledge & admit trying to ban worship is terrible, but....Tei also lets their bias/experience with Windhelm, the Stormcloaks & especially Ulfric kinda cloud over this. If the Nords want their old ways so damn much, why fight for a divine from the Imperial Cult? Why not go back to the actual old ways? No, this isn't about worship, not to the men leading this so-called rebellion, they just needed something other than their racist bullshit to fool the common man into throwing their lives away for the nobles sitting comfortable in their thrones.

Also during their whole thing of getting into their role of dragonborn, they get a bonus 'fuck this dude actually' towards Talos, Ysmir, whatever the fuck he calls himself. (tldr; it sucks but good luck hearing Tei say that fully)

✧✧✧ Politics

Gray-Mane or Battle-Born?: Neither, ask them again they will punch you for the love of Ruptga they get asked that every time they enter Whiterun.

Stormcloaks or Imperials?: Also neither, Tei hates em both n think they can all choke. Unfortunately they were forced to join the latter due to, yknow, calling dragons & causing massive damage in Imperial territories during isolated fits of rage and the group being more aggressive in wanting something in return for "letting it slide"....oops

Opinion on the Thalmor?: Oh absolutely despises them, they loudly complained having to work with them during the CW & would go out their way to disrupt their plans/piss them off. Sneaking was an option they did not take during the Embassy quest, if it helps paint the picture.

Opinion Of Ulfric Stormcloak?: Tei doens't say they hate people often...but they sure as hell hate Ulfric. Again, their experience in Windhelm added to this heavily, how both the Dunmer & Argonians were treated like shit, with no help whatsoever from the Jarl or guards when the local Nords targeted them. It's still up in the air if I keep this for Tei's story, but I have it where they knew Chases-Starlight's parents, who were killed. When Tei went up & demanded justice/an investigation, only to be brushed off because it "wasn't a priority," it completely destroyed what little empathy or hope they had left for Windhelm as a whole.

Opinion of The Empire?: Cowards too weak to continue fighting back against the Thalmor, in their opinion, & holds these views they grew up with even when being strong-armed into aiding them. If anything they're at least attempting to use their influence to hint towards a rebellion against the Thalmor, but the Empire could also full-on dissolve & they could give less of a shit.

Civil War Quests Completed: 0

✧✧✧ Personal

How Are They Doing? Need Some Juice? A Nap? A Hug?: The whole event of Blood of Kings has fucked with their head, to say the least. It's the starting point of Tei's eventual spiral. So uh...yeah they're not sure how they're doing everything they knew about reality was kinda challenged & they don't rlly have anyone to talk to about it so its cool, its fine, its all good.

A nap is probably needed, not sure about a hug theough they're super flinchy rn

Days Past In Game: 196

Hours of Sleep: 846

Food Items Consumed: 1833

How Many Playthroughs Have You Done With This Character: Tei actually is an older character from the 360 days so uh...maybe 5 at most? This playthrough & their S:EC one coming up when the mod releases being the main ones focusing on their story

Overall How's Your Level Of Fun: Alright I would say! I just been stepping away from Skyrim more often lately to avoid burning out from it

Must Have Mods To Play This Character (for story or other reasons): Ordinator, Wintersun Faiths, Immersive Armors, Sarcastic Player Dialogue, 3DNPC, Inigo, Lucien Flavius, Kaidan 2, Khash the Argonian, Alternative Start, Leviathan Animations, Beast Race Body Paints, Beast HHBB, Apocalypse Magic, Deadly Dragons, Growl: Werewolf Overhaul, Pronouns, uhhh....idk what else without actually listing my current modlist lmao

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And that's it for Tei! Anyone who wants to do this go on ahead!