#i mean not all of them are used by everything and some shit overlaps but still

[kariachi]

I, think I know what I'm doing as far as pronouns? I think? Like the words themselves I don't have a clue but I think I may have a chart to use for each grammatical gender down? And have a vague idea of how I'm going to make it work?

Like, I think what I'm going to do is rather than have totally unique words for everything I'm going to have a one syllable 'part' for each little section (so like '2nd person singular object formal' includes a 'ma' or something while 'non-person subject plural' is 'le' or some shit) and then a one syllable denoter of the actual grammatical gender in use (so say medical professions are all 'ker' and farmers are 'la'). Then I can just combine them as I go (2nd person singular object formal for medical fuckers would be 'kerma' or some shit). Plus some 'general' pronouns for things like the 1st person and 2nd person casual pronouns, that aren't divided by grammatical gender.

Would make things easier both to put together for me and to learn and remember in-universe. Plus it would make sense to have some standardization in there, given the language is a constructed on in-universe. Would it make sense to not have serious deviation given how long it's been since it was constructed? No, but cut me some fucking slack I'm one amateur in over my head.

So, I, I think I may be on the path to being able to give you guys pronouns for fuckers, or at least use them in sentences.

[r3starttt]

spiderman! Els | read this or DNI

sm! Els who would get bit by the smallest but creepiest spider ever while having a date with you and would absolutely panic about it silently even though her face practically speaks for her. Eyes wide open, totally focused on her hand and the spider quickly running away.

sm! Els who would be every minute after getting bit hallucinating all type of symptoms about everything, searching about it on google and then telling you how she’s probably gonna die.

“fuck babe, google says I might die, that shit looked poisonous” the hand she got bit some hours ago was being gently held by yours, getting a massage that you were unconsciously giving her as you two walked together. Your steps were at the same pace, unheard by your voices overlapping almost every time and Ellie’s ramble about the spider and her hand.

You shifted your head towards hers once she stopped talking, but before you could say anything she opened her mouth, to which you stopped yours from making any sound to hear whatever she had to say “would you still love me If I was a spider?” her eyes look sort of puppy ish, and her smile widened in her usual sheepish smile. You just shook your head quietly “wha-“ your voices overlap, again “Ellie, m’ sorry but they’re ugly, I would kill you immediately”

sm! Els who would get home exhausted, laying on her bed and texting you immediately to keep talking about how she feels like dying but also doing everything but take any painkillers or go to the doctor because she’s soooo strong (she hates the whole socializing experience of going to the doctor)

sm! Els who wouldn’t experience anything else for the rest of the week until one day she just wakes up feeling different (doesn’t realize she even looks different until you say it and then feels like she’s getting a glow up or something)

sm! Els who then leaves the little excitement she had aside once she notices her hands being sticking and sweaty. She practically wants to kill herself by how embarrassed she got once you told her about it, automatically moving her hands away from you and apologizing as if she just did the most terrible thing to you

“Els, baby, babe, we good. You’re just going trough puberty, you’ll get used to it” your hands travel to hers, holding them awkwardly tight and giving them a kiss once you stop talking, getting hit once she tried to move them away from you.

She was about to tell you to shut up when she felt how strong her movement was, widening her eyes in pure shock. She brought you closer, apologizing again “M’ sorry, didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry babe, god…”

[gay-jesus-probably]

Okay so I have a lot of thoughts about the whole thing of the Gerudo being a race of entirely women, with the only exception being one man born every hundred years, and that man automatically being their king. Now this worldbuilding comes from Ocarina of Time, and there's obviously a metric fuckton of unfortunate implications there, because it was 1998. And it seems that Tears of the Kingdom is sticking with the lore of Gerudo men being extremely rare and becoming the King of their people, which once again has a metric fuckton of unfortunate implications because it's 2023 and Nintendo has somehow gotten even worse about this shit.

But let's set aside the whole... everything, and look at this from just the in-universe perspective. How does it work? I mean, it's pretty clear that there is no overlap between the kings; the old ones are normally long gone by the time a new one is born, but the Gerudo manage to take care of themselves during the hangtime. So they must have an established system of government and leadership that doesn't involve a king, and somehow that system is set up in a way that does a smooth transfer of power once a new king is born and old enough to take the throne. But why bother always declaring a random guy to be your King when you already have a perfectly functional system in place?

I mean again, the whole thing has a lot of sexist implications, but we're not looking at this from a real world context, we're examining it in-universe. And we could just go the lazy route and say that their king is in charge just because he's the only man, but I don't like that. I mean come on, the Gerudo are a race of entirely women, and most of their outside problems come from Hylian men being creepy about it. They are entirely a matriarchy; there is literally no reason for their culture to have an inherent respect for men, even if the man in question is one of them. And they're desert people; they live in an extremely harsh and dangerous landscape, if they don't have their shit together, they will die. By sheer necessity, their culture needs to put a lot of value in being practical, because if they're stupid about things, people die. They really can't afford to have a shitty leader take over, and just letting some guy take the wheel doesn't really fit with the way their culture must otherwise work.

So again, why the fuck do they bother having a King?

I think it's mainly just a ceremonial position. Yes, if the guy is a good leader he'll be in charge, but if he isn't good at being a King or isn't interested in the job... fuck it, they've already got a functional government system that's been leading their people the whole time, why fix what isn't broken? The title of Gerudo King isn't about leadership or power. I think it's more about belonging. Because the Gerudo are a culture where every single one of them can be defined in the same way... and there is exactly one exception once a century. Men are considered to be inherently outsiders at the best of times, and more often they're enemies. A man born into this culture is a natural outsider; he is completely unique, and that means he doesn't really fit into his community. And well... when someone is fundamentally different from the rest of their community, they tend to be ostracized.

So I think that's why the position of Gerudo King exists. It isn't about them needing or even wanting a man to lead them. The title of King doesn't need to involve any leadership at all. It's about giving the man born every century a place in their society. It's a way of saying yes, you are one of us, you are a Gerudo, you belong here, you are wanted and you are loved.

The Gerudo know that every hundred years, one of their children will be fundamentally different from all of his peers. And so their society is built to ensure that a child who is completely different from them will still be loved and accepted. He will always have a place in their society. He doesn't need to earn their love, he has it just for existing. These are his people.

The title of Gerudo King isn't an inherent position of authority. It's a promise of acceptance.

[moonshynecybin]

Do you think the ranch visit 2014 ended with like slightly annoyed sex because Vale just annoyed with Marc beating his record but also slightly admiring him

i love this because its true. marc is ANNOYING ! of course it cannot be ignored that vale is ALSO annoying (max biaggi fight. hello.) like they match each others freak in that regard, but at what point do you look at this sexy ass twink who is obsessed with your dick and your bike (sex to vale. is motorcycle racing lest we forget he keeps that m1 in GROPING distance and marc is like GOD i wish that were me so it does. work comma sexually. for them. like a lot. but i digress) and obsessed with your ability to ride it and be like hmm. maybe this habit is NOT so cute. when beforeeee you thought hey hes just like MEEEEE and got HORNY about it. well obviously if youre vale it is when he doesnt let you win at your own goddamn track at your own goddamn house in front of your own goddamn brother and various peers. that shit is irritating. which i do think marc realizes now, but is also largely unrepentant about because he's hilarious. free my girl he did all that but it was funny. our marc not famous for his wealth of tact and restraint on the track. and vale is thirty six staring down one last chance to maybe win his tenth. and earlier that week when he beat marc at that karting event he said finally somewhere you dont win. so yeah when marc doesnt roll over and let him get the lap record that day in 2014 all of those endearing traits where they overlap and are similar. change. morph. arent so cute anymore. the light shifts. the music hits a minor chord. ominous. foreshadowing. chekov's gun carefully being placed on the wall. and suddenly. kind of a theme with them huh. vale hates him for all the things he learned from vale.

so. we are here to ask how that emotion translates to nasty sex. obviously. like all of these complex emotions do NOT mean that vale does not want to get his dick sucked lmao. like he's here he's thirsty marc's been in a tiny little titty huggin black tshirt all day its happenin. AND. it should be noted that in a very real sense this is their first sleepover. first time fr hanging out outside the paddock in a place where there is PRIVACY. no real REPORTERS. an actual locking DOOR. no way to hide from the fact that theyve been all over each other for like TWO YEARS now. AND multiple yamaha M1S that can be used as somewhat SEXUAL PROPS. (vale feeling also perhaps. emotionally complex here. a lil delicate. like YEAH i can invite my coworkers i like to hang at my track thats bro stuff but what about my years long situationship that —*static noises in vale's brain* like remember this is where MARC thinks things start to change between them...)

so yeah vale ends up like. amping up that competitive edge a little in bed. making this a fuckbuddy thing more than a RELATIONSHIP thing as much as he can in his head and with his hands and failing miserably and feeling even WEIRDER about that. so he's. i think he's working hard at putting marc where he wants him. hot hands a little rougher on the curve of marc's waist. cupping his ass making him gasp. sending him to his knees and making him suck his dick hot and nasty. teasing a little edging on the little feminine nicknames theyve never talked about but that make marc squirm and flush prettily. edging marc with three fingers in his ass while he whines for it. dragging it out. exerting a little control. not mean at all everyone is having fun (marc. out of his MIND.) just. excising some tension. its probably nothing hes just in his head. holding marc in his hands as he looks up at him. and marc trusting it. marc going. marc being just where vale wants him. just like he never does on the track. and marc thinks everything is fine when its happening thinks everything is AMAZING. but after that is when vale starts to go a little cold......

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Baby are you drooling? (hanjisung)

Maybe if you looked away just in time he wouldn't notice. If you turned away with a quick snap of your neck he wouldn't realise you were ogling him like some maniac, nevermind the sound of your neck snapping from the fast movement. "Baby are you drooling?". Shit.

Jisung comes up to you with wide eyes and a not so much as a satisfied smirk but a genuinely surprised smile at your flustered expression and actual saliva droplets pooling at the sides of your mouth and beneath your bottom lip. You had seen him topless countless times, not even just in a sexual context too, it was just that your boyfriend would randomly walk around his apartment or yours with his shirt off just because.

This time was no different. He had just walked out of the shower and walked in your room, an off white colored towel wrapped tightly around his waist and another one he was using to dry his hair as he caught you staring at him in a slight trance. He was just so good looking you couldn't help it, no matter how many times you'd see him shirtless it hit you every time like the first one: abs. For days. An immaculate, perfectly toned, round, firm and sculpted broad chest. Abs. Biceps and triceps and fucking everything - ceps. Abs. Truly, you loved everything and anything about him and still couldn't quite grasp just how on earth you managed to pull someone like him, whose body proportions were absolutely perfect. It almost made you envious, what a perfect body he had.

"Are you still there? Earth to y/n? Baby? Babe? Hellooo?". Jisung quickly snaps his fingers in your face, trying to shake you from your trance like state, succeeding after a few tries, "yah! Sorry!! I'm sorry! I was kinda mesmerized there for a second!", you admit abashed, pointing vaguely to his torso and he chuckles, leaning in to peck your lips, "you are so cute", he breathes out, his voice a little raspy before he kisses you once or twice, "you're also pretty good at making me flustered, usually. I'm glad I could finally beat you to that", he adds then, chuckling at your still dazed state, "you know what you could also beat me to? A nice work out session".

Jisung stops rubbing the towel in his hair at that and looks at you half stunned half suspiciously for you never once mentioned ever doing any physical excersice ever since you started dating, "a work out session?" he repeats uncertain, hair falling in his face, eyebrows knitting in that confused cartoon like expression, "yeah! Or multiple ones! Maybe I should just come along with you and Channie and Binnie whenever you guys go to the gym, I mean if that's alright with you, I wouldn't want to impose",you offer, shrugging, and Jisung just nods at that, a still unsure expression plastered all over his face.

"Sure, you are welcome to come anytime you want and I can even ask Changbin hyung to come up with a structured work out plan for you if you'd like but … May I just ask why? Why do you suddenly want to start exercising? Have you been feeling unwell? Have you been feeling sick more frequently? I honestly don't even remember the last time you caught a cold", he asks all at once, making you giggle and shake your head no, "I'm fine! I'm absolutely fine. I just want to have nice abs like you, that's all! I'm okay with my weight I guess, I just wish I didn't have all these rolls", you admit frowning, pulling up your shirt to reveal the soft skin rolls barely overlapping on your tummy, poking at them with a disgusted look on your face.

At least until your boyfriend squats your hands away and falls on his knees right in front of you, grasping your sides very firmly, peppering kisses all over your tummy, "don't you dare do anything to my little pouch! This is mine, my pillow, my softest comfiest head rest, my belly to put babies in, my treasure!!", he exclaims dramatically, holding on to you so tight when you actually burst into laughs you can barely move from his grip and the shakes reverberate through his arms too.

"Hahaha babe, it's okay I just want to be healthier", you try and reassure both him and yourself, seeing how much of a reaction you elicited in him, "but you are healthy! You're so healthy! You have more stamina than I do most days and you always go on walks and never fall ill to anything, you're so so healthy!", he insists, looking at you with the biggest eyes, still not letting go of you, "then why do I have all this excess skin, mmh? Why do I have to physically tuck my belly in whenever I wear high waisted jeans, why do I look like I have a balloon underneath my shirt after every meal? I'm not sure I'm that healthy".

You frown once again, stubbornly poking at your belly button until Jisung removes your fingers from there and clasps them tightly in his hands: "you are healthy. Period. I might not had the chance to go to regular school when I was younger but I did graduate! I know organs need space! That is NOT excess skin that is a very normal amount of skin protecting your stomach and your intestines and allowing them to sit comfortably in there! You get bloated after you eat cause you mostly eat at work in very short breaks and don't have enough time to fully recover and digest! My brother's girlfriend went trough the same, the minute she started working from home and drinking more water and go on little walks shortly after her meals her tummy stopped bloating! Worked like magic".

As soon as he stops talking you do actually realise he might just be right: you do indeed always eat rather quickly at work, inhaling your food along with so much air while never leaving your desk, busying yourself with work even when you're supposed to take a breather and enjoy your break. You never really paid that much attention to it before, you only started noticing your inflated tummy and the way it made you feel insecure in your tighter clothes.

"Okay. You're right, you're actually very right about that. But.. I would like to have a little contouring here, just cause it looks so nice on you and maybe I can try and work out a little during my lunch break so I can train myself in taking better care of myself and do something other than work while I eat, and maybe also help my digestion along the way. I could like eat something lighter before work, have a little upper body session in the break room and then eat my lunch calmly, AWAY from my computer".

Jisung smiles so broadly at you and pecks your lips over and over, "that's my reasonable baby! If you still want to come along to the gym to learn a few new techniques, you absolutely can! Though I will ask you to work out away from me, you can enjoy your session with Chan and Changbin hyung", he adds, finally letting go of your fingers only for his hands to now roam free underneath your shirt that has hiked up your sides and your belly button, "why? Why can't I work out with you? Or even next to you?", you ask, and now it's you being the really confused one, "because", Jisung kisses your lips quite passionately, gently grazing them with his teeth, "I already know I won't be able to do shit with you around", he mumbles lowly, his mouth finding the sweet spot just beneath your ribcage. 

[arceespinkgun]

alright I know you haven't talked about this in a while but you're pretty correct about the way jazzprowl is written usually being weird. One or both of them is always portrayed in a weird offensive way (it's either racist towards jazz, portrays prowl as an ableist stereotype, BOTH, and MORE)

I agree with this. It took me a while to think of what I could add to this and I think I'd also say: it's important for everyone to know that when I see people injecting bonus ableism into fics with these characters in them, Jazz is also normally portrayed as an ableist stereotype (racist as well as ableist)! Whenever Jazz is written as being super disruptive, lazy, and chaotic, or when he's written as super violent and scary and people use terms like "schizo" (I'm sorry but I've seen it) to describe him, these all fall into the overlap between racism and ableism. It's the same bigotry that in the real world results in Black men and boys to be deemed disruptive and violent over their peers. And I probably don't need to say it at this point, but the character Jazz has never been portrayed like this in any media, not even close. And there has also never been canon media where Jazz disrupts an ultra-rigid Prowl into changing anything about himself (and there never should be because that sucks). Hey, is now a good time to point out that in the G1 comics, as far as I can tell Prowl is just one of the many, many Autobots who are massive Blaster fans and they have nothing but positive interactions, and Blaster in those comics actually is a super disruptive, loud, angry, sometimes violent character? I mean, they have to be friends because they both hate Grimlock....

I also think something I haven't discussed as often but is equally important is that we should all be looking at canon with a critical eye as well. If you look at the way some IDW writers like James Roberts, Nick Roche, and John Barber wrote the characters, they utilized a lot of extremely problematic tropes as well. For example, I personally balk every time I see someone saying that Barber did Jazz justice, when what he did to him was make his entire story center on cops and police brutality and barely let him grow or find any community. He also decided that Jazz's backstory would be that he was a beat cop on Cybertron... I think it's bizarre for anyone to look at how Jazz has been portrayed over time and think it makes total sense for that of all things to be his backstory. I'll also just never forgive Barber for writing that issue where he had Prowl point a gun at Jazz's head to get his attention, and had Jazz making fatphobic jokes about Prowl (weird in context for SO many reasons), and also tried to resolve the issue with some kind of friendship moment despite all of that.

Roche, JRo, and Barber also knowingly took every trait Prowl had as a character before their stories—ones easy to perceive as signs of disability���and twisted them into signs of cartoonish evil (I know Barber seems to think he did not write him as a flat evil character, but he's kidding himself). Understandable meltdowns about stressful situations and injustice get turned into a running gag and scary villainy, a lack of social awareness and literal thinking get turned into the most flatly evil dialogue I've ever seen ("You can apologize later," anyone?), a drive to make everything just and fair and better for everyone gets turned into arrogance (Barber, the fact that you wrote this character saying something like, "What's morality got to do with any of this?" means you failed). I especially hate these decisions because these writers also showed a ton of favoritism towards this character. You could feel how much they LOVED making him as revolting as possible while also making sure that instead of facing reasonable consequences he'd always go through the most disturbing, traumatic, worst shit ever so there wasn't even the catharsis of fair consequences... while also giving him tons of prominence.

I say all of this because both canon and fandom works should be examined critically and that IMO it's not only a good idea to not make things worse in fanworks, but also probably a good idea to go along with the better parts of canon and not the super problematic parts.

[tropes-and-tales]

With Teeth

(Benny Magalon x F!Reader)

CW:  Talk of drug use; vaguely smuttish (kissing, groping, biting), but nothing explicit. 18+ only just to be safe.

Word Count: 3062

AN:  This was originally requested from a prompt list ("i won’t bite. unless you’re into that sort of thing") by @outlawedmando!

Major Crimes isn’t the only division of the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department to host illicit parties.  Many of the divisions have their own deals with their own vibes that fit the unique character of the division in question.

Major Crimes, lorded over by Big Nick, is almost a cliché with the booze, women, and drugs.

The Gang Squad is led by a man much like Big Nick, so it’s no surprise that they do it up similarly, only bigger, with more women and harder drugs.

Cold Case Division’s modus operandi is to go out to the desert with big guns and lots of beer and blow shit up.

No one really knows what Parking Enforcement and Services does, but there are jokes about it.  Some say lean into the relative lameness, say they unwind with a knitting circle, or scrapbooking evenings when they listen to New Age music.  Others say they go fully feral, that they have a fight club in an abandoned warehouse where they beat each to near-death.

In terms of the group with the panache, though, the honor belongs to the Fugitive Apprehension Team.  Maybe it’s the nature of their role—always hunting, always on edge and in the front lines of dangerous work.  Something makes their unwinding efforts an ultra-chill affair, a complete decompression and sloughing-off of the stress.

The Fugitive Squad is a tight-knit group—arguably tighter than Major Crimes, though the two often overlap.  Major Crimes cracks a case, needs someone hauled in?  Big Nick drops a call, and it’s like setting a pack of well-trained wolves on the busy streets and dusty roads of Los Angeles County.

On big cases, sometimes the Fugitive Squad invites Major Crimes to their parties and vice versa.  Usually Major Crimes attends the Fugitive events, since the Fugitive folks don’t quite care for Big Nick groping hired girls while the fug of cigar smoke hangs over some hotel room.

-----

What does a Fugitive party entail?

Borracho is never clear on who exactly plans them.  If it’s a situation where the team takes turns, or if there’s one mastermind behind the events.  It’s always at the same place:  a low, sprawling mid-century place in the Pacific Palisades, owned by one of the members of the squad who came from old family money. 

There’s a pool and beyond it, the ocean.  There’s low, cool lighting that swaths everyone in blue shadows.  There’s ambient music—a low, steady pulsing beat that seems to sync everyone’s heart rate to the same rhythm.  The food is always elegant, an elaborate sushi bar one night, tapas another time.  There’s alcohol, plenty of it, but no one ever seems to overdo it to a sloppy degree because everything is so damned chill.

Drugs?  Big Nick is partial to coke and often brings enough to the Major Crimes events to get loaded, but the Fugitive parties are purely for the psychedelic shit.  Weed, obviously.  Mushrooms.  Molly.  Nothing that will get people worked up:  only stuff to calm and maybe take the user to another galaxy while they celebrate another night on the right side of the dirt.

Honestly, Borracho kinda prefers the thing the Fugitive folks have going on. A big joint case has just wrapped up, and he finds himself with an invite along with the rest of his team. 

Which means he gets to see you in a more social setting.

At work, you’re all business.  Mostly silent, the way Borracho is mostly silent.  You let your commanding officer do all the talking the way Big Nick does all the talking, and like Borracho, you stand nearby and look and listen.

Early on, you caught Borracho studying you.  It had made your mouth twist in a small smile, and you had winked at him, but it was a lone instance of your personality shining through during work hours.

Off-duty?  Fuck, you drive him insane.

It’s not entirely the sort of insanity that comes from flirting and sexual tension.  At these parties, you’re someone else completely.  Totally at ease, which means you feel comfortable enough to be yourself, to untether your mouth from your brain, and Borracho never knows what the fuck you’ll say to him.  If you’ll drop something banal about the Dodgers’ pitching depth, or if you’ll stare at him, unblinking, and ask if he thinks life as he knows it is just a simulation.  Because both has happened in the past at these parties, and both were before you even touched a drug.

Tonight, though, he’s late to show up.  The party is in full swing, the low bass audible from the street when he parks his truck.  He makes his way inside, sees the crush of people dancing in the living room, sees the cluster of people in the dining room where the food and drinks and drugs are laid out.  Borracho sees Henderson, tips a nod in his direction, but he keeps walking through the place.

He always seeks you out at these things.  He always swears he’ll play it cool, but his resolve always melts away the moment he hits the door.

Borracho finds you in the den—a separate space that usually has a movie projected on the far wall while people sprawl out and trip and sometimes get cozy in the dark room while some old black-and-white movie plays out in the background.

Tonight, you’re settled on the deep leather couch at one end.  Another guy is at the other end of the couch, his wide eyes fixed on where “The Third Man” plays against the far wall.  There’s a couple curled up on a separate easy chair, murmuring together, making out, and it charges the room with an undercurrent of sexual energy that feels…promising.

It takes you a beat to notice him leaning in the doorway.  You’re watching the movie too, and it’s only in a scene break that you glance over and see him.

“Borracho!” you call out.  “Finally made it!”

“Never like to arrive too early.”

“Smart, smart.  Gives you an air of mystery.”

You smile and continue.  “C’mon in.  Take a seat, settle in.  We’re following Joseph Cotton here around post-war Vienna.”  You lift a hand and gesture at the wall.

Borracho tilts his head at the couch where you sit.  “No room.”

You turn and look at the guy on the other end of the couch.  When Borracho looks closer, he sees it’s one of your coworkers in the Fugitive Squad.  He watches as you reach over and swat at him, tell him to move over and make some room.  When he does, you turn back to Borracho and pat the middle cushion invitingly.

“C’mon, handsome.  I won’t bite.”  He cocks an eyebrow at the handsome moniker, but you add, “unless you’re into that sort of thing,” and he realizes that you’re throwing him for a loop like you always do—only this time, you’re flirting with him, not interrogating him about what reality really is.

You drive him fucking insane.

It’s not entirely the sort of insanity that comes from flirting and sexual tension, but it’s a big part of it.  At work, it’s the way you move around, the economical way you move when you’re on the hunt.  If the Fugitive Squad is a pack of wolves, you’re their panther:  more of a big cat padding on quiet paws, ears pitched forward, slinking after prey. 

At parties, it’s this:  always keeping him guessing, keeping him back on his heels, making him feel like a teenaged boy again straining for just a moment with you.  The anticipation of it, the frustration when it never materializes, the eagerness for the next invite to the next party. 

He makes his way into the room and sits down beside you.  You reach over to the little table beside the couch and snag a small tray with party favors on it.  You present it to Borracho with a flourish.

“Want to partake?” you ask.

He squints at the offerings.  There’s edibles, a cigarette case of pre-rolls, and some unidentified pills with tiny smiley faces printed on them.  He points at them.

“What are those?”

“Designer shit,” you reply.  “Boss has a buddy in Twentynine Palms who makes these small-batch, artisanal drugs.”

Borracho snorts.  “Hipster shit.”

“Like a macaron shop in a swiftly gentrifying neighborhood.”

“What’s it do?”

You click your tongue as you think.  “Little bit of everything, I’d say.  Relaxes you like pot, but kinda gives you the euphoria of molly.  Also offers the barest bit of trippiness, in case you want to peer behind the veil between realities.”

“Haven’t peered behind the veil lately.”

“Treat yourself, Borracho.”

He plucks one pill from the tray and considers it.  “You take one already?”

You answer by taking another pill from the tray, then setting the tray aside.  You turn to face him, stick out your tongue, and lay the pill on it.  The whole time you hold his gaze, and he holds yours.

A second later, you close your mouth and swallow.  “Yes,” you tell him with a smile.  “I’ve taken one already.”

You drive him fucking insane.  How could he not want you?

-----

Whatever this designer pill is, it’s the sort to creep up slowly on a user. 

Borracho relaxes by degrees.  Feels himself melting into the couch by degrees, like his bones are softening, his muscles are lengthening.  The light from the projector takes on an ethereal glow, and at some point, he blinks and realizes, shit, I’m feeling it now.

He turns his head, heavy against the back of the couch, and sees you.  You sense his gaze on you, and you turn your head to face him too.

“How you feeling?” you ask.

“Good.”  It comes out rough, a dry-throated croak, and you laugh at him, which makes him smile. 

“Good.”

“You?”

“Good.”

“That’s…good,” he replies, and it makes you laugh again, makes him laugh too, and he realizes how much he’s feeling it after all.  How effortless it feels to sit beside you right now.  He glances up at the movie and sees that it has changed entirely – to some grimy-looking ‘80’s crime drama with a synth soundtrack.  The couple who had been making out in the chair have disappeared, and when Borracho turns his head to the other side of him, he sees the third wheel has left too.

How long have the two of you been alone?

Time seems to stretch and distort.  He watches the movie, a car chase scene, then blinks and it’s rolling credits.  Another blink and it’s another movie, a low budget sci-fi with lots of lasers.  He sits on the couch, his legs sprawled wide, and his knee presses against yours.

Blink, and his leg nearest you now is pressed against yours, thigh to thigh, and the heat he can feel coming from you seems to have a shimmering quality when he looks down at where you touch.

Blink, and he’s watching the movie again.  There’s an alien in bad makeup, more lasers, a jazzy stream of music that seems to come from somewhere else.

“I am,” he blurts out.  He rolls his head again, peers over at you, waits for you to turn and look at him.  When you do, you look confused.

“Huh?”

“I am.  From earlier.”

You snort, then laugh.  “I am so lost right now.”

Blink, and he feels the smile that creeps across his face.  “What you said earlier.  You asked if I was into it.  I am.”

“Into what?”

Blink, and he swallows.  Feels the heat of your thigh pressed against his.  “You said you wouldn’t bite—”

“—Unless you’re into that.”  You pick up the thread and remember.  The smile you offer has a feral edge, unless he’s imagining it, which is very likely.  Maybe none of this is happening at all:  maybe he’s passed out and drooling on the couch while you’re sober and elsewhere, cornering people and trying to discuss string theory.

“You like biting, Borracho?” you ask, and your voice is low, a near whisper.  Like you’re sharing secrets, so he whispers back.

“Depends on who’s doing the biting.”

“Hmmm.” 

Blink, and you’re moving towards him, that same cat-like fluidity you have at work.  He never takes his eyes from you, never blinks, and you don’t either.  He watches as you straddle him, settle on his lap.  His hands find your waist, then slides them down and back to grasp your ass.  Your hands reach up and cup his face, low on his jaw, and you smile down at him.

You’re backlit by the projected wall of the movie.  He opens his mouth to say something nice, to tell you how fucking gorgeous you look, but you lean down as you tilt his head and…he thinks you’re going to kiss him, but you brush your lips over his cheekbone until your mouth is right by his ear.

“You want me to bite you?” you whisper, and your warm breath fanning over him makes him shudder, a delicious frisson of trembling through the core of him.  He wants to say something slick in return, but he only manages to grunt an affirmative.

Blink, and you lean against him.  He can feel your tits pressed against him, can feel the flex of your body as you bend your head.  Another blink, and he feels your mouth on him, your soft lips, then your tongue as you taste him—the spot right where his neck meets his shoulder.

Then he feels your teeth on him, a slow and steady sink of your teeth in his skin, and you take him right to the edge of pain and maybe a half step beyond, but no further.  His hands grip your ass harder, spasm against the soft curve of you, and he jerks you closer to him because he’s growing hard underneath you—faster than he usually does, and maybe part of it is the drug, but part of it is definitely you.

Your mouth on him, the heady weight of you on him, your hands gripping his face and holding him steady. 

You draw your teeth out of him, and you soothe where you’ve marked him with your tongue.  You run the tip of your tongue over his dimpled flesh, then kiss him there.

Blink, though, and Borracho finds you climbing off him, and he pushes a disappointed exhale through his pursed lips.  You didn’t even kiss his mouth, and he turns to where you settle back on the couch.  You catch his pout and offer him an apologetic smile.

“You know we can’t do more,” you offer as explanation. 

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his jeans too tight.  “I think we could.”

Another smile that turns into a laugh.  You reach out a hand and lay it on his arm, jostle him playfully.  “We could.  But we shouldn’t.  We’re both pretty fucked up.”

“You’ve never fooled around while stoned?”  His voice has a whining edge to it that he doesn’t like, but you keep your hand on him, keep grinning at him, and that’s something, he guesses.

“I have,” you admit.  “But within boundaries established whilst sober.  I might get sloppy at these parties, but I keep my sloppiness contained within certain limits.”

He can’t help but smile back at you despite the twinge of disappointment in his gut.  “You need a lesson from Big Nick.”

At that, you release his arm, fling your head back against the couch and blow out a heavy breath.  “God, that asshole.”

“He kinda is, right?”

“He has a sort of all-encompassing sloppiness that I can’t support, Borracho.”  You turn your head, smile again.  “Tempting though you may be.”

He sighs but smiles back at you.  “You know you drive me fucking crazy, right?”

“Yeah?”  Your eyes widen—you look genuinely surprised.

“Yeah.”

“You gonna be shitty with me now?”

He shakes his head.  He’s never been the type of man to get a bug up his ass about a woman not putting out.  He’s never gotten angry at dates that led to nothing, or dates who changed their mind.  That’s life, and he’s always thought of men who got shitty about women not putting out as childish assholes.

Besides, he’s gotten plenty.  He knows what it feels like to have you on top of him, how it feels to have your tits pressed against him.  He knows what your mouth feels like and will bear the mark of your teeth for at least a week until the bruise fades.  He knows that your ass feels amazing under his big hands.

“If you ever want to establish boundaries while sober…” he starts, then trails off, and it makes you laugh again.  It’s probably the drugs, but he’s made you smile more, laugh more in this one evening than he has in all the time since he’s known you.

“Don’t open that door if you don’t want me walking through it, Borracho,” you warn.

Maybe he’s sobering up a bit, because he manages to both think of a slick line and deliver it. 

“You’re Fugitive Squad, baby.  You can kick down my door anytime you want.”

It’s the coup de grace of the moment:  you throw your head back and laugh, deep belly laughs that come from deep inside you.  You throw out a hand and brace yourself against his shoulder, and he chuckles along with you.

“Duly noted,” you finally manage to say once you calm.  “I’ll hit you up sometime.”

Borracho nods.  “You should.”

Then, because he’s still loose from the drugs, still feeling pretty damned good, still wanting to show that he’s not going to be shitty about you clambering off him, he lifts his arm in invitation.

“C’mon,” he says.  “At least curl up with me here.  I need someone to ground me so I don’t drift off to Saturn.”

You don’t even hesitate to move closer and tuck yourself under his arm and against his side, and that’s how you both fall asleep within the hour, and how you both wake up just before dawn—both dry-mouthed and cranky, but not so cranky that you don’t sheepishly exchange numbers.

And Borracho might think you’re just being nice, but you call him that evening, stone-sober, eager to kick in his door at his earliest convenience.

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Lourdes Family, David; family traditons

For the prompt: Jake's sisters slowly warming up to David

The problem with Nat and David, Allie decides early on, is that they’re too alike. Not in most ways, really — she doesn’t think they’d agree on much when it comes to their taste in media, or hobbies, or any of that, and she’s sure they’d both be surprised if she said they were similar at all.

But Allie knows Nat better than she knows herself, probably, and she’s made an attempt at getting to know David, because she knows how important it is to Jake, and some of the things that make Natalie Nat to her seem to be pretty similar to the things that make David David.

They’re both quiet, but it’s not shyness with either of them, though it can seem like it unless you know them. As often as not, Nat’s quiet because silently dismantling whatever’s being said in her head, about to spring it on whatever poor unsuspecting person just claimed they ‘could care less’ or called a pterodactyl a dinosaur or something that matters to nobody but Nat. 

Though mostly she doesn’t actually say it to them — unless they’re family, she corrects Allie all the time, and poor Jakey doesn’t stand a chance — she’s saying it as an aside to Allie, or recalling it later ,‘my co-worker thought Babylon was a mythological place, and when I said 'oh yeah, like Bethlehem?' he said 'yeah, exactly!'’ or ‘If I hear someone use literally when they mean figuratively one more time, Allie, I swear I'm going to snap’. 

She’s quiet, and sometimes she seems checked out, but she’s always paying attention to what everyone else is saying. Allie’s learned it’s the same with David — she’ll mention something and then nine months later David will have gotten her a Christmas present based on her offhand comment. Or he’ll ask if she wants the same drink as last time, last time being like, six months ago. Allie doesn’t know if he’s got that kind of memory for everybody, or if it’s just because she’s Jake’s sister, and he’s still trying to impress all of them, but, well — consider her impressed, she guesses.

But also, she’s pretty sure he’s also picking up on the mistakes everybody else makes, except instead of ‘Allie, let me tell you the misspelled bumper sticker I saw today’, she isn’t hearing shit from him. She doesn’t think Jake is either, at least if the people making mistakes are them. And they probably are. Allie has no illusions that she makes no mistakes: if she did, Nat would have beaten that belief out of her by now.

“He thinks he’s better than us,” Nat complained once, and Allie pressed her lips together very tightly, and she didn’t say a thing, and frankly, she thinks she deserves a medal for that.

As similar as David can be to Nat, he’s absolutely nothing like Jake. If Allie was asked to list their similarities, it’d be like — ‘very athletic white dudes around the same age’, and then a bunch of hockey specific things. Beyond that, she’s got nothing. It isn’t just their personalities — they have completely different taste in everything. Different priorities, outside of similar career ones. Some overlapping friends, but Allie just attributes that to Jake being able to make friends with a table leg if he wants to. They could not be less alike.

Allie’s never been a big believer in the whole ‘opposites attract’ thing, but honestly, maybe she should be: mom and dad are a pretty good example of it, and Jake and David seem to bring out the best in each other.

It took Allie a little while to come to terms with them getting back together, but she can’t deny that Jake seems to grow when he’s around David. Maturity wise, but he also just seems to stand up straighter, like just being around David makes him more alert, or aware, or maybe even self-confident, though that’s never been something he's lacked.

It probably isn’t just David he’s like that with — Allie hasn’t seen him around the Panthers too much, but he is the captain, after all — but either way, it’s a nice thing to see Jake grown up.

He’s still the baby to her, will probably always be the baby to her — anyone she put in pigtails and pulled around in a little red wagon while telling everyone to look at her pretty little dolly is going to be a baby to her forever, let’s face it — but for all that he’s been taller than her since he was twelve, he felt like a kid to her the whole way to the show, and for awhile after. He doesn’t feel like a kid anymore. Baby, sure, he's always going to be that, but not a kid. 

If anything, David feels more like one. Not that he’s childish, or immature, or whatever, because Allie suspects he wasn’t even childish when he was an actual child. Maybe more someone suddenly immersed in a foreign culture — he doesn’t know where he’s supposed to be, what he’s supposed to do, what the hell is up with the wishbone thing. 

She’s seen Jake explain things to him, the traditions she thought everyone did, and the traditions that are very Lourdes specific, the way mom gives extra mashed potatoes if you're a suck up, and how if people don’t take turns opening presents it turns into a free-for-all, and how nobody actually eats the cranberry sauce.

When Jake isn’t there to do it — rare, but the dude does need bathroom breaks — Allie figures it’s no skin off her nose to do it instead, and she even overhears Nat doing it once, though  she might have just been venting about someone saying dumb shit again. She does love to do that. 

The important thing is that he keeps showing up, even though he’s uncomfortable every single time — though maybe Allie’s imagining it, but she thinks he’s reached the ‘almost comfortable’ stage this Christmas, like, maybe feeling a little awkward, but no more than anyone else would, spending Christmas with his boyfriend’s family.  Maybe more than someone typically would if they’ve been doing it every year, but Allie knows they can be a lot, that most people have trouble keeping up with the rapid back and forth — even Jake gets left behind sometimes, then pouty when they start tease him about it.

David was a wide-eyed spectator, the first few times he saw that. Jake told Allie later that he didn’t hear the fondness in it, just the mockery, got defensive on Jake’s behalf. Allie doesn’t know how he’s survived locker rooms for so long — their love language is basically just mockery and punching each other in sensitive places, at least judging by Jake and his teammates back in the day. Probably now too. She’s met Cody Gallagher, unfortunately.

He takes it better now though, even joined in yesterday when everyone was shit-talking Jake’s recent stab at growing facial hair, while Jake tried and failed to defend himself through giggles. On the one hand, Allie’s just glad it isn’t a mustache, but on the other hand, maybe he’d do a better job with that. This morning, Jake comes down to breakfast clean-shaven. Allie isn’t delusional: he didn’t shave it because his sisters gave him shit. That was all David.

“High five,” Allie says when David joins them downstairs, and she’s half expecting a quizzical look, maybe even the ‘what the hell are the Lourdes talking about now’ one that surfaces sometimes, but instead she gets a tiny smile and a high five.

“I’m sitting right here, guys,” Jake says, but once again, he’s laughing.

[hipsterfireshaman]

y’all we need to fucking talk about how deep the lore for Love and Deep Space goes. I’m literally crying after reading all three of Zayne’s Anecdotes back to back.

Spoilers for those Anecdotes: A Pure White Heart, Never-Ending Winter, and Still in Dark

A Pure White Heart is the account of an intern who temporarily gets to work under Dr. Zayne.

This is for sure set in the timeline/lifetime/whatever that we (MC) play in; Zayne is a renowned and respected doctor, with a cold exterior that makes it hard for people to see the utmost care and dedication he has for everyone. The pedestal he’s placed on as a top surgeon as well as his demeanor isolates him from everyone around him, and it takes a while and genuine effort for people to understand him.

(never mind how sad I got when everyone in the operation room was talking about a type of strange dish, Zayne pipes up with a joke, and everyone just froze—silent and unsure if Zayne was scolding them or something. Poor guy. I’ve got chronic RBF so i felt way too seen by this anecdote)

Never-Ending Winter is also most definitely set in our timeline with the Zayne we know. This anecdote sheds way more light on the Mt. Eternal Incident in the Arctic we as the MC heard about on our trip there.

I’m unsure just how much time has passed since this Incident to where we were in the timeline of going there for our reasons, just that Never-Ending Winter took place before the start of our story in Love and Deep Space.

Y’all the writing for these anecdotes is batshit, and I say this before even getting to the third anecdote. The dark shit that happened on Mt. Eternal rivals that of mainstream analog horror and modern creepypasta.

It was tragic af too, and all it really does after answering some questions I didn’t know I had about Mt. Eternal and the Incident, is give me more questions about what Zayne is doing back there after all this time. The end cutscene after where the story leaves off in chapter 8 shows him doing something over the ice in the Arctic, no doubt being the unfinished business he had planned when we parted ways. Is he excavating William???? because OHHHH BOYYY. Zayne was the source of William’s corruption? Which leads into the third anecdote and what it tells us about Abominations.

The third Anecdote, Still in Dark, is n u t s. Similar to the Little Mermaid-esque timeline/“Myth”/AU/whatever that Raphael has going on, this doesn’t seem to be set within our current reality/timeline/whatever(it’s so hard to say, with constant overlapping with others and questions left unanswered). Linkon City seems to be a thing of the past, and the way of life for everyone has changed in to something a little more post-apocalyptic.

Zayne is a serial killer who is hunted by a detective!!!!! LET THAT SINK IN. WHAT THE HELL. On top of that, he’s not killing people in cold blood like what the detective initially believes, but hunting down people that are turning into Abominations, a sort of precursor to Wanderers that may or may not be the cause of frequent exposure to Protocores. (source: the mother of Georgie that reached out to Zayne in fear of her fate after watching her coworkers change for the worst. We have to learn in the hardest of ways that it might not just be due to exposure to Protocores— that it might be contagious. Poor Georgie.)

On top of everything else going on, higher ups seem to actually be aware of this situation!!! ITS A GOVERNMENT COVERUP. THIS IS WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY IT RIVALS THE WRITING OF ANALOG HORROR MASTERPIECES AND CREEPYPASTAS.

Again, Linkon City seems to be something of the past—this Zayne seems to be connected through it through space and time through his dreams of a separate reality or timeline with MC. If this is actually the same timeline, and instead just way later down the line with some reincarnation shenanigans or something, something bad happened to Linkon City. The Abomination outbreak is reminiscent of the Mt Eternal incident and what happened with Zayne and William. Zayne was the source of William’s infection. Just what the fuck happened up in that mountain??? Not to mention the fact that in our current place in the timeline, Zayne is back there, POSSIBLY excavating William. What if he’s the one setting off the apocalyptic events that make Linkon City a place of the past tense? Chillsssss.

It doesn’t even stop there with the web of connections; something happens with Zayne at 27. The MC in Zayne’s dreams notices something is off with him. She (we) can tell it’s not Our Zayne. Maybe I’m just thinking of the worst case scenario, but what if it parallel’s Georgie’s fate. What if Our Zayne is the dream of the monster—the abomination, and it wakes up on that special day. And This Zayne is reliving it through time and space because it’s all just one big circle.

Beyond the Anecdotes and the current story, the Jasmine Flower that has a little cameo in Still in Dark is incredibly significant. It’s seems to function as a countdown in Still in Dark. To what? Who knows. Zayne turning into an abomination leading to the death of MC? A Future Diary’s-esque countdown to Love and Death?

But it stems (ha) from Zayne’s Myth: Tower of Secrets. I’m not sure when this takes place in the big ol’ timeline or whatever, but it’s seemingly the most detached. I’m only about 59% through it, but the fact that it’s in a very different time/universe/reality is clear from early on. Zayne is literally a cursed wizard in a tower and it’s giving Magic-High Fantasy instead of the usual Science Fiction-Spacepunk the usual story is.

I could go on for hours. Sorry if this seems like the ramblings of a madwoman. This has been the most consumed by an otome game I’ve been since Mystic Messenger and its cathartic and All Coming Full Circle for me. I don’t have anyone else to talk to about these things so here I am, shouting into the void.

[donnerpartyofone]

I should really be ashamed to complain about this but since there's nothing left of this world anyway (TL;DR everything is so remarkably shitty now down to the smallest little annoying details, exponentially shittier than it was five and then ten years ago, and it's fucking crazy-making):

For work, I need to watch a movie that I know is on Prime. I go into Prime and look up the one-word title. It gives me a short list of "top results", not including my movie. Under "top results" is a slew of other lists of movies, broken down by varying made-up subgenres; at a glance, none of the titles even contain the word I searched for, and none of them have anything to do with what I specifically want. I close the Prime app and open Plex, whose search function immediately tells me that the exact the movie is in Prime, and links me to it. By clicking the link in Plex, I am able to watch the movie on Prime.

I don't know what Prime is thinking. There seems to be an assumption that when I look for one exact thing that I know I want, that that's not really what I'm doing -- I'm actually secretly saying "Uh, I dunno, just like, pitch me something, find something to sell me on, I don't really care." How the fuck is that better business? Because Prime refused to serve me something that I explicitly asked for, in favor of pushing a whole bunch of shit I don't want but that it assumes is more popular with other people, I almost didn't use their service at all. There was no world in which I was going to give up on my actual requirement and just allow myself to be forced into some other unrelated, unwanted waste of time. And this is not because I'm such a frugal and conscientious consumer, I'm not really that smart even, but I wanted A SPECIFIC THING and if I didn't get it, then that would be the end. Why is there no way for me to get the FULL MATCHING RESULTS, why is there only "top results" and then a bunch of shit I didn't ask for? When did the search function just become like a random, vaguely-related recommendations engine? How is this supposed to help Prime get my business? I mean really, I didn't enjoy this experience, but how does this strategy even serve their own corporate greed?

YouTube does a similar thing to me where it will notify me about a new video from one of my subscriptions, and if I click on that, the app opens with the video playing in a little tiny reduced window shoved to the side of all these browsing options. Like as soon as I say "yes, I want X," YouTube instantly doesn't care; it only wants me to keep shopping around for other stuff that I have not said "yes" to already. It's like a bad boyfriend who isn't interested in what you actually consent to, he's only interested in what he can bully you into, that you would have otherwise avoided.

(I guess the physical-world equivalent would be the type of consumer who is in a permanent, almost subconscious retail therapy spiral, where they do way more browsing and buying than they do using and enjoying. The person's home is full of unopened packages and they probably wind up re-buying a lot of stuff because they don't even know what they own. This is probably every company's ideal customer now, and maybe this is why if I order an item from an online store, that store will email me every single day to try to make me buy the same exact item again, as if the thing I want is only the pleasure of buying, rather than owning and using the item.)

It drives me crazy when I see these arguments online about how you're a stupid idiot if you think that the internet is shittier and more intensively commercialized than it used to be. I think it's often that the cohort of people who are really techy and net-savvy overlap with people who are a little conservative in that way where they are instantly enraged if they hear some soft-hearted rube complaining about the dominant system. If this type of person sees a post by some glum little liberal about how the internet used to be more fun and easier to use, they will immediately shit right on top of that guy's head just to be spiteful, often using a small armory of data to gaslight the plaintiff into thinking that their problems are imaginary. It's the same as that thing that happened recently where a bunch of mean-spirited libertarian-flavored blogs started making all these posts explaining that the American economy is doing awesome and anyone who thinks that inflation is happening is a stupid piece of shit. Which was like, OK fine, all those graphs and numbers you got from right-wing think tanks look great; I take it back, there's no inflation or whatever, but now you have to give me a different word to use to describe why I can't afford anything anymore and everyone I know is in a constant, desperate search for a place to live where they won't starve.

[amanitaphalloides]

what is the jopkey manifesto. if you can share it for those of us not in the gc 🥺

anon thank you for asking this question i have been trying and trying to bait someone into asking. here is it copy and pasted

Jopkey: A Manifesto

Jopkey in Brief

Jopkey refers to the romantic/erotic pairing of Thomas Jopson and Cornelius Hickey, a couple of guys who actually existed in real life and have been twisted into something beyond recognition by Dan Simmons, AMC, and now random people online such as us. Jopkey is commonly referred to as “the thinking person’s Terror ship” due to it kinda making you think.

Arguments For Jopkey

Let us review the nuanced and delicate appeal of Jopkey.

Potential Dynamics

Two tops fight to the death. In this formulation, Jopson and Hickey fight (mentally or physically) for dominance until one of them is (mentally or physically) dead. And they’re both tops. Credit Hannah @groundwater for being insistent about this final point.

Daddy’s candy babies. A popular (loose definition of the word) dynamic in which Jopson and Hickey are equally devoted to pursuing Francis Crozier’s attentions. But in doing so they find themselves irrevocably drawn to their freakass competitor…

Realizing potential. Jopson and Hickey recognize, in each other, great untapped potential—perhaps to be annoying and evil, but perhaps also to be intriguing, exciting, and to live life to the fullest. Whether intentionally or otherwise, they spur each other to explore all life has to offer them. Which given the circumstances isn’t that much.

Situations in Which Jopkey Could Happen

Hatefucking at any time.

Everyone else dies and they have to repopulate the ships.

Angry grief sex after Crozier dies. Perhaps over his casket?

Hickey happens upon Jopson’s half-dead form and attempts to eat him. Jopson simply responds, eat this.

Pertinent Jopkey Moments

“I’ll be there in a minute, Jopson.” Hickey refuses to call him lieutenant. Hot!

Jopson’s mouth twitches while watching Hickey be punished as a boy. Glee, eroticism, or simply an expression of sympathetic pain? Perhaps all three. 

When Hickey picks up Neptune's turd he says "Sorry sir the dog relieved himself before I could call Mr Jopson." This implies he has watched Jopson pick up dog shit before and would feel comfortable calling Jopson for help. Hickey doing a task that he thinks should be Jopson's = they have so much in common.

This is also an early indication of their dynamic wherein they see their respective relationships to Crozier overlap. See "Daddy's candy babies" under Potential Dynamics above.

Jopson guards Hickey while he’s on tent arrest. Hickey teases Jopson about his shooting abilities with his hand down his pants, Jopson brags about all the critters he used to kill and eat and says “My aim’s just fine Mr. Hickey” sexily. Implies Hickey is also a critter to be skinned and devoured! Okay!

During this scene Hickey is touching his own penis and Jopson puts his hand in his own mouth. Through the transference property this means that they have had oral sex.

They appear next to one another in the list of Terror crew members in a published book in the gift shop of the National Maritime Museum as pictured here (ie they are cuddling):

Arguments Against Jopkey

Despite the cold hard facts/group delusion depending on your perspective, some people are anti-Jopkey. Let’s take a look at the common reasons behind this unfortunate sentiment and resolve them one by one.

Anti-Jopkey Arguments and Resolutions

"Jopson simply does not think of Hickey."

Fortunately this is easily disputed. Jopson is constantly looking at Hickey like ARGH. Also we use our little imaginations. Sooooo.

The anti-Jopkey contingency argues "that’s just Liam Garrigan’s face" (re. point 2 in the above).

A typical argument and quite a simple one to dispel! We only need apply the “say yes to the text” ethos—by which we understand that everything present in the text is there to be explored and enjoyed, quite separate from the circumstances of its creation. Jopkey is not so weak as to be dependent upon the actors’ intentions. Regardless of whether or not AMC’s The Terror was filmed with the specific and singular intention of breathing life into Jopkey (which it was), all that truly matters is the effect. And ultimately the effect of Liam Garrigan’s face is eroticism, glee, intrigue, sympathy, and perhaps even romance.

The truth is there will never be consensus in the group chat or in the world, and Jopkey will never be true or untrue. It will remain Schrodinger’s Jopkey, and by offering insight into our psyches and groupthink dynamics, it is actually a vital and beautiful step towards world peace.

Jopkey Bangers

I Fucking Hate You - Godsmack

Since You’ve Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson

I Knew You Were Trouble - Taylor Swift

Jopkey Mood Board

Affirmations for Jopkeyers

I am so smart for shipping Jopkey.

My phone knows the word Jopkey. It knows that I am not typing about Jockey.

I understand British accents perfectly. Every word Jopkey says is comprehensible to me.

My words and actions honor Jopkey and my Jopkeyer compatriots.

I can think completely secret erotic Jopkey thoughts on this bus; my brain is closed to psychic attacks from the bus driver and other passengers.

I know who these characters are; I can tell them apart from other light-haired and dark-haired men who appear onscreen together. I can recognize their interactions as unequivocally Jopkey.

The Jopkey Anthem

O Jopkey Jopkey! Of thee I sing!

With Jopkey I can do anything!

Jopkey helps me laugh and play

So I ship Jopkey every day! 

Thomas Jopson — You always wow!

I know who you are by now

When first I watched I couldn't see

But you're not just Muttonchops #3

And Hickey lad with your sly grin

Reminiscent of delicious sin

Could you really be so wrong?

Not according to my Jopkey song!

[alternate hickey apologist verse] And Hickey — the perfect man!

Through thick and thin we’ll always stan

You’ve never done nothin’ wrong

And so to you we sing this song !

I pray this ship will never sink

Lest we approach the mental brink

May Jopkey sail forevermore

And far outlive Lieutenant Gore.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

Welcome New Followers Post xiv

gonna make this bullet points of Things to Know because deadlines, but hi! welcome!

-this is not a jewish identity or a jumblr blog. i am a jewish person and a holocaust historian, so my content often overlaps with those realms of tumblr

-this is first and foremost a public history blog. public history and public historians do history for the public. we're passionate about transmitting complex historical topics from the academe to the people, and we're in constant (one-sided lmao) conversation with entities such as: film writers and producers, textbook writers, government bodies, journalists, etc regarding the construction of public memory, and the responsibilities that entails

-you don't have to ask if something is ok to reblog. I appreciate the thought, but unless I turn off reblogs or specifically ask people not to engage in certain ways, you're fine, that said:

-I do see and read all tags, replies, and rbs. I consider them public, and I often respond to them as new posts. If you want to engage with me and don't want others to see, then send me an ask which includes the words "please respond privately"

-You can should disagree with me and tell me when you think I'm wrong! Now, I won't lie, years of existing as a young-appearing hyper feminine (i like skirts and bows and sparkly shoes it is what it is) female, Jewish historian have made me defensive and bitey af, and I often misread neutral tones as "coming for me" tones and respond in kind. I apologize for when/if that happens to you, and I assure that, once I realize you're not coming at me in bad faith, I will feel horribly guilty.

-There is a learning curve here. I don't have any desire to gatekeep my blog (it's the opposite tbh), but I do use high level terms which can have multiple meanings in different contexts. I actively try to avoid using impenetrable academic jargon in this space, but sometimes that jargon is the only appropriate phrasing available. In those cases, I urge you to do some research and poke around and then, if you still don't understand what I mean, DM me.

-I am a white, American woman. I am actively anti-racist, and anti-bigotry in general, but there will be times when I do or say something clueless or privileged. If you see that and you have the energy, please tell me! I want this blog to be a welcome place for all,* and I appreciate call-outs as an opportunity for (un)learning.

-Building on that, this is an anti-bigotry space which I'd like people of all demographics and identities to feel comfortable engaging with.* That said, I don't play nice when some random corner of tumblr rolls up in here and barfs their shit all over my posts.

-I am a cringe millennial. I started this blog in 2011, when I was 21, had just finished college, before I'd heard back from any graduate schools, and before I had much resembling a career. I am currently 34. It's fine. But a lot of you are in your teens and 20s and are just starting on your careers, so like, please don't negatively compare yourselves to me or get self-deprecating when/if you want to contact me. We all learn and achieve at different paces and that's ok.

-My book, The Girl Bandits of the Warsaw Ghetto, will be released in Fall 2025. Trust me I will be screaming from the rooftops and you will not miss the announcements lmao.

-If I don't reply to an ask or a DM, it's not because I hate you. There are 800 reasons why I may not reply, and none of them are personal.

and finally

-I am not your Good Leftist Anti-Zionist Jew. I am not here as a rhetorical cudgel for left-wing anti-Semites who seek out Jews with politics similar to mine to then use as a weapon against other Jewish folks. Don't fucking do it.

*That does not mean that everything I post here will make you feel comfortable. History isn't supposed to make you feel comfortable. Sometimes, it can and should make you feel actively uncomfortable, because that discomfort/cognitive dissonance means you're learning (keep your cognitive dissonance temper tantrums tf away from me, tho). It does mean that I, as an individual, want you all to feel that this is a space where you are welcome to learn and ask questions.

i tried to use bullet points to keep this short, and i failed miserably. on brand.

[that-stone-butch]

hi, i have a question and i mean this in good faith, but why do some butches get top surgery? you mentioned it in some of your recent posts and i’m just trying to understand. i 100% believe in bodily autonomy so i’m not judging anyone for that decision, i’m just trying to understand so i can support people better. obviously there’s a lot of overlap between butches and transmascs but i don’t really understand why someone who still identifies as a woman (not all butches do, but “lesbian”/“wlw” still implies some connection to womanhood) would want to have that surgery unless it was to prevent breast cancer? i have chest dysphoria too but i guess it’s not bad enough for me to understand this. is this higher level of dysphoria common in butches? again i mean this in good faith and i just want to understand. i wish you well for recovery and i hope everything goes smoothly!

my pal you have like fifty gender biases here that you're gonna want to unpack. this pile of questions has so much added baggage it's going to take so many steps to unpack holy shit

not all lesbians are women/have an 'implied connection to womanhood'

'top surgery' may mean mastectomy but there are also people out there who get 'top surgery' meaning breast implants, among whom some are butches, and for whom that is an equally momentous instance of gender-affirming care. is this a part of your question?

you don't have to understand why someone would want a procedure in order to support them

i cannot speak to whether or not butches experience an especially 'high level' of chest dysphoria

even if i could produce some statistic that indicates that we do experience a 'high level' of chest dysphoria, i am not especially equipped to speak for all of us as to why

i have no idea what amount of people counts as 'high' to you. is one in five high? one in ten? what if it was one in ten sure about getting top surgery, but an additional two in ten were considering it? would that be high, to you? i have no frame of reference for you

'has tits' does not necessarily mean 'is woman' and some women do not want to have tits. period

other people's chest dysphorias are going to look different from your own. there are as many different reasons to feel dysphoric about one's chest as there are people

like i'm taking your good faith seriously, but even if i wanted to answer these questions i couldn't. i'm just one person. so let me reiterate the only answer that matters:

you don't have to understand why someone would want a procedure in order to support them

[threewaywithdelusion]

Flirting with Danger (Robin & Eddie & Steve snippet)

“Hey, Eddie? Why do you flirt with Steve so much?”

Eddie froze. Eddie was always in motion, so it was strange to see him still. Eddie thought he ran, but that wasn’t true. He deflected, he made himself larger than life, turned parts of himself that he was confident about into a target. Unless he was really, really afraid. Then he froze. 

Robin understood his other habits. She babbled when she was nervous. She preferred being teased for talking too much or for being a klutz than the other things she was worried people noticed about her. 

But Robin had never used outrageously flirting with Steve as a tactic. She’d made fun of him, sure, but it had been hilarious watching The Hair strike out with literally every single girl who’d ever walked into Scoops Ahoy. 

What Eddie was doing was different. 

Robin forged on, her mouth running ahead of her brain, as usual. “Cause, like, I get it. He’s pretty and all and he makes some really funny faces when you do that. But he doesn’t really reciprocate so I would have stopped by now if I were you, but who knows, I’ve never even been on a date so maybe my problem is that I give in early. Oh my god. Maybe you’re actually doing this right.”

Eddie raised his hands in a wide gesture. “Woah, Buckley, chill. And lower your voice.”

Robin looked around. They were still alone, the only ones in Steve’s living room. But she understood why Eddie was afraid of this conversation being overheard, even if she thought anyone with eyeballs must have realized he was hitting on Steve by now. Except maybe Mike Wheeler, who was blind to just about everything, and Dustin, who was still determined to set Steve up with either Robin or Nancy, and Lucas, who was still distracted with his girlfriend’s recovery. 

Okay, maybe not everyone had noticed. 

“Sorry,” Robin said. “But come on, you can tell me.”

Eddie looked around again, then leaned in dramatically. “Okay, this is going to sound stupid, but. I don’t know how well you knew Steve a few years ago.”

“Not well. We had Mrs. Click’s class together two years ago, but besides that our paths never really crossed.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Well Steve and I didn’t exactly run in the same circles, but we ran in overlapping ones. I was a junior when he was a sophomore, and then we were seniors together. And I’ve been dealing to the basketball jocks for years, so I saw him around at parties and shit. And he was… very different than he is now.”

“You don’t have to tell me that Steve was an asshole. I know that.” Robin eyed Eddie, confused on what this had to do with all the flirting. Was Eddie just irresistibly into people who did hardcore self-improvement? “He knows that too, by the way.”

“I guess,” Eddie said. “I mean, he seems to. But that kind of evolution? It’s basically unbelievable, right. Like, if I wrote some DnD campaign where someone started out as a villain like that and turned into the hero, no one would buy it.”

Robin was taken aback.

Hold up. This wasn’t lovestruck gushing. The only person allowed to insult Steve like that was Robin. Maybe Dustin on a good day. 

“He wasn’t a villain,” Robin said heatedly. “He was an asshole and an idiot, but he was no worse than every other jock who goes to our school and he was a hell of a lot better than a lot of them, even then.”

Eddie’s face turned dark. “You didn’t hear the shit he said.”

No, she hadn’t. She’d overheard sometimes, when he’d called some kid or another a freak or a nerd, but she’d had no reason to hang around Steve back when they’d both been in high school. She was thankful for that sometimes. She knew Steve was different now and that he regretted the things he’d said and done in the past. But it was easier to forgive him when she didn’t know exactly what he was guilty of. 

“He can’t have been worse than Billy Hargrove. Or Jason Carver.”

Eddie scoffed. “Yeah, cause being better than Billy Hargrove or the guy who convinced the whole town I was in a satanic cult and then tried to murder me is a real selling point. What a high bar.”

He leaned in closer to her. “He was a bully, Robin. He made life awful for kids like me. Like those kids in there.” He jabbed a finger at the kitchen, where Steve was teaching The Party how to cook. “The nerds, the geeks, the outcasts, the queers. And I guess you and I and those kids are proof that he doesn’t care about the bullshit high school social hierarchy anymore. But there are some things people still hold against you out here in the real world.”

Robin scoffed. “So you’re trying to prove that Steve — Steve who fights monsters from another dimension off with a baseball bat and babysits a bunch of fifteen-year-old nerds — is still the guy you knew?” Robin fought to keep her volume down when she wanted to scream. “Cause Steve is the best person I know. He’s brave and selfless and so fucking kind, like good from the bottom of his soul, and he’s a little vain and a little slow but he isn’t anything worse than that. And fuck you for thinking that kind of thing about my best friend.”

Eddie shook his head slowly. “I’m not denying he’s good to you, Robin. But in this little group, our fucking lives depend on each other. So excuse me for trying to find out if he’s good to people like me.”

Robin only had time to blink before Eddie continued.

“I know flirting with him is insane and maybe a little suicidal. But I just want to know how far I can push him before he snaps. If he’s gonna say some shit or hit someone for acting queer, I’d rather it be me than W- one of those kids. And I’d rather know before I’m trusting him to have my back in a fight against a monster that preys on our fucking fears and traumas.”

Robin stared at Eddie for a long moment. She couldn’t believe that she and Steve had both been wrong. Eddie hadn’t been genuinely flirting with Steve, but he also hadn’t been using Steve as a safe option. Hell, Steve had been so far off it would have been laughable if it wasn’t so sad.

Robin remembered when she’d come out to Steve, stinking of vomit and high out of her mind and just as afraid as she’d been in the secret Russian bunker. 

She understood why Eddie was afraid. She probably would have been too, if she didn’t know Steve like she did. If the drugs hadn’t loosened her tongue and allowed her to tell Steve a secret she’d never shared with anyone else. 

There was only one thing she could think to do. 

“Steve!” Robin called. 

A moment later Steve came running through the doorway, a kitchen knife in his hand. He visibly relaxed when he saw that Robin and Eddie were just sitting on the couch and not being attacked by monsters from the Upside Down. 

“Robin! How many times have we talked about this? If you just scream for me, I’m going to assume something is trying to eat you.”

Robin snorted. “You say that, but you called me in a panic when you ran out of hairspray before a date and you started with the words ‘Robin, this is an emergency. I need your help.’”

Steve dragged a hand over his mouth. “I- okay, I did. But-“

“Anyway,” Robin cut him off. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but all your little ducklings were crowded around you learning how to use a stove.”

“Tell me what?” Steve asked. 

Robin grinned. She pulled a little slip of paper from her pocket and waved it out towards Steve. “Vickie’s digits.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up in a slightly offensive look of shock. “Holy shit, Robin, you actually managed to get her number?”

He shot a glance at Eddie, probably wondering why Robin was choosing to have this conversation in front of Eddie Munson. 

Robin ignored the look and smirked. “Vickie was complaining about how she hasn’t seen a movie in ages, since the mall burned down. I told her that I work at the video store and that my very platonic best friend has a giant tv we could borrow if she wanted the full experience. And that we could make popcorn and eat candy and do all the things teenagers are supposed to do in movie theaters. And she said ‘everything?” all suggestive and I almost died! And I told her everything, so I need to steal your house and I need you not to be in it.”

Steve sputtered. “You totally stole my line. Oh my god. You said you didn’t want my dating advice, and then you stole my exact pickup line! And my house!”

Robin rolled her eyes. “What’s yours is mine, Dingus. Even your cheesy pickup lines.”

Steve grinned, looking proud. 

Robin beamed back at him. She loved that she could go to Steve, that he was her biggest cheerleader when it came to her love life. That he had never once, from the moment he had learned she was gay, made her feel strange or freakish or different for liking girls. She’d tested him, maybe, a little. In the beginning. When she’d started with innocuous little comments about Molly Ringwald looking generally pretty in the Breakfast Club or the cute girl at Family Video having a nice smile. Steve hadn’t blinked, which had given her the courage to say more, to comment on actress’s collarbones or chests or thighs, to talk about her crushes growing up, to call dibs on customers and be pleasantly surprised when Steve refused to flirt with the girls Robin had chosen, even if they were hopelessly straight and even if they flirted with him first. 

Robin had never trusted anyone the way she trusted Steve, with every part of herself, knowing that there was nothing she could show him that would make him love her less. 

Eddie was staring between them, dark eyes wide in shock and disbelief. 

“Wait,” Eddie said, waving his arms wildly. He pointed at Robin. “You are a lesbian?”

Robin nodded. “Yep! 100% all into the ladies.”

She knew Eddie was safe. There had been rumors about him being gay for years and she’d just watched him spend the past several weeks flirting with Steve Harrington of all people. He’d all but just told her he was queer. But it was still terrifying. She’d only ever told Steve, and she’d been high on Russian truth serum then. 

Robin’s heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. Her hands were trembling. 

Steve, bless his head of beautiful hair, realized at that moment that Eddie hadn’t already known about Robin. He walked closer very quickly, putting himself between Robin and Eddie as best as he could while he was standing and they were both sitting on the couch. 

It was a sweet gesture, especially from a man who had lost every fight he’d ever been in. 

“And you,” Eddie said, swinging to point his finger at Steve, jabbing it into his stomach, “knew about this?”

Robin could only see the side of Steve’s face, but he was watching Eddie with a hard look. “If you have a problem, you and I can take this outside.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. He looked from Steve, to Robin, then back to Steve. 

Steve didn’t move. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie said, more to himself than anything. 

Steve tensed. 

“I don’t have a problem,” Eddie said, leaning back against the couch in an artful slouch. He turned to look at Robin, trying to hide his wide-eyed surprise behind a casual look. “Damn Robin, good for you, finding love in the apocalypse. While the rest of us suffer the woes of portals to hell and the perils of monster attacks, you’ve actually gone and found yourself true love.”

Robin smiled. “Or a movie date. You know. One of the two.”

Steve was looking between the two of them, his brow furrowed in that adorable look of confusion that he got sometimes. 

“I don’t understand anything that just happened here,” he said. 

Robin snorted. She was about to tell Steve that he should mind his business when Eddie said, still in that fake-casual tone, “I’m gay.”

Steve blinked, his eyebrows raising slightly. He looked taken aback. “Um, yeah.” He glanced at Robin, then back to Eddie. “I know I’m not the sharpest bulb in the box, but I’m really good at reading people. Especially when they’re flirting. Flirting is my specialty. You were really obvious, man.”

Eddie’s dark eyes were wide as he watched Steve. 

Steve pushed his hair back nervously. “Was I not supposed to know that?”

Slowly, a grin grew on Eddie’s face. “No, that makes sense. I was just making sure we were on the same page.”

Steve started frowning again. “About…? Oh. Wait. Is this- are you trying to ask me out? Because, I’m flattered dude, but I’m not- I mean. I like girls. A girl. Who doesn’t like me back, but, you know, the heart wants what it wants and all that shit.”

Eddie shot Robin an incredulous look. She gave him a close-lipped smile and a nod. 

Yeah, dude. Her best friend was awesome. 

“No, Steve,” Eddie said. “I’m not trying to ask you out. The last person I wanted to date got murdered by a super-powered psychopath right in front of me and it was quite traumatizing, so I think I’m taking a break from all that dating-slash-falling-in-love stuff for a while.”

Steve’s face scrunched up as he thought for a long moment. “Patrick?”

Robin snorted, feeling hopelessly fond. 

Eddie looked stupefied. “Chrissy, Steve. Remember Chrissy? Who was beautiful and sweet and not actually trying to murder me for starting a cult?”

“But… Chrissy’s a girl?” 

“I like both, man,” Eddie said.

“Oh,” Steve said. Then a second later, “That’s a thing?”

Eddie laughed. He had a look in his eye, like he still couldn’t quite believe Steve was taking this so well but he was grateful for every second of it. 

“Like Bowie,” Robin tried to explain. “He likes both.”

Eddie snapped his fingers and pointed at Robin. “Exactly. Bowie’s metal as fuck.”

Steve looked like he was about to say something when Dustin’s voice came from the kitchen “Steve! Come tell Mike he’s doing it wrong!”

“I’m not doing it wrong! The pasta’s supposed to look like that.”

“No pasta is ever supposed to look like that,” Erica’s voice sounded loudly over the rest. “What? Just the facts!”

“My mom’s pasta looks like that.” That was Will. 

Then Dustin again. “Thanks for proving my point, dude. Steve!”

Steve was smiling softly as the kids all roared for his approval. 

“Go help your kids, Dingus,” Robin said. “And know that I’m not eating anything made by Mike or Dustin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said. “I’ll make you something else. Eddie?”

Eddie grinned. “Nah man, I’m with you. It’s our job to eat whatever the little shits made and pretend it’s good, right?”

Steve grimaced. “Yeah.”

He left, muttering about being the goddamn babysitter under his breath. 

Robin turned to Eddie, eyebrows up, expectant. 

“Alright, fine! I believe I owe the Lady my apologies,” Eddie said. “I didn’t mean to malign your best friend’s honor and besmirch his good name.”

[eggplantwaffles]

i think a big problem with modern batfam comics is that they have so many characters that kinda just overlap- here’s my ideas for how to give each of them their own “niche” to make them unique. Some of this is canon or alluded to is some way- but a lot is just what i think makes sense for each character.

Bruce Wayne

Bruce retires, it’s the only way to give all his kids / kid adjacents their own chance to shine. i’m sure he grumbles about it and watches from the bat cave obsessively, but i’m the end he’s learned to trust the batfam and lets them take care of things.

Dick Grayson

I actually really like where Dick is at in comics right now, i mean it’s not perfect- but I like the idea of Nightwing being a “better” version of Batman for Blüdhaven. He leads the Titans, which are now on par pedigree wise with the Justice League, and as Dick Grayson he is an active member of the community in Blüdhaven, trying to use all his resources to help people. So basically not much changes here.

Barbara Gordon

This one’s easy, just make her Oracle all the time- in the most bad dads way possible. Give me paralyzed Barbara Gordon who has eyes and ears all over the world and is the center of ALL super hero activity. She leads the Birds of Prey, she’s in the ears of all the bats, she’s IT for the Justice League- she does all of it.

Jason Todd

I liked Jason’s character best when he serves as an antagonist. Jason goes back to being a crime lord, and we bring back his ideals of trying to control the crime as opposed to trying to stop it. Jason has good intentions, but he lacks the idealism of the other bats who are constantly trying to save the city without compromising any morals. I think that Jason often butts heads with Tim and Cass (mostly Cass due to her very strict no killing rule) but is mostly left alone by Steph and Damian, who are more willing to accept his methods even if they don’t love them.

Tim Drake

Tim should travel the world “conspiracy hunting,” kind of like how he took down the League of Assassins, except he probably chills out on the blowing up bases all around the world that might (definitely) have people inside. Tim is supposed to be the best detective of the Robins, so lean into that- I want globe trotting - mentally unwell - detective stories where Tim fights big secret organizations or takes down corrupt governments. He is also still apart of Young Justice, though they are all a bit older and are a less official group, the core four are still close and work together- they help keep Tim grounded and remember that he doesn’t have to do everything alone.

Stephanie Brown

I think Stephanie kind of separates herself from the batfamily after her time as Batgirl. I don’t mean that she give up fighting crime, or even gives up wearing the bat symbol, I just mean that she becomes a mostly solo act. Steph becomes Gothams main hero, she does normal vigilante stuff, patrolling the streets, saving the city, detective work, the typical bat stuff. But she’s far more connected to the people of Gotham than Batman ever was, stopping and talking to kids, handing out blankets to the homeless, doing cool flips and batarang trick shots for civilians passing by. Eventually she is the hero most Gothamites associate with their city, and she represents the good parts of Gotham- giving the people hope that they aren’t doomed to be consumed by the city, but that they will be stronger because of it. I also think that things are kinda awkward between her and the bats (except for Dick, Damian, and Barbara) and she tries to keep her distance a bit, considering she was kinda treated like shit as Spoiler and i think Steph deserves to be bitter about that, for a little bit at least.

Cass

Cass becomes Batman, but she operates globally. She’s not like early-Bruce batman who stayed in Gotham, she’s more similar to later batman. She’s in the league, she goes on funky missions to space or other dimensions sometimes, she fights the world ending threats that someone with no powers really should have no business fighting. She also works frequently with Tim and they do some fun little espionage stuff. And while she does return to Gotham, she’s mostly content to leave the city to Steph now- except for all the times she gets into fights with Jason, it bothers her that Steph rarely messes with his operation.

Damian

I really love the idea of Damian getting more into the magical part of DC, I think he should absolutely end up with a Justice League Dark team and learn to do cool magic shit. He goes on a training montage quest like Bruce did, except he’s learning all about magic and demons and cool stuff like that. He has cool magic swords and is sort of the connection between the more grounded part of the universe and the magic parts. He also does a fair bit of globe trotting, looking for ancient mystical artifacts or magical worlds and stuff like that.

Duke Thomas

Duke also mostly stays in Gotham, he’s kinda doing his own thing as The Signal- he still operates during the daytime meaning he doesn’t cross paths with Steph or Jason too often on patrol. There’s not much to change here because Duke is already unique in that he 1- operates during the day and 2- is the only meta-bat, so I don’t need to make a niche for him, DC just needs to use him more.

Random Stuff

- Duke is starting college and takes night classes at Gotham U, Steph is also still in college and is graduating soon

- Tim is either Red Robin, or operating under a new name (I think the Vulture or Condor would be kinda cool but idk)

- The Batfam does not get along like a real family, they are dramatic bitches who fight all the time and have cannot all be in the same room

- Damian and Steph are super close, she was the first person to insist on treating him like a child, which he hated but now that he’s older is grateful for (but he’ll never admit it)

- Damian also sees Dick as his father figure, Bruce is just kinda also there

- Bruce, Alfred, Damian, and Cass all live at the manor- but Damian and Cass are rarely there as they travel a lot and got shit to do

- Barbara lives in the clock tower, she technically lives alone but usually one of Cass, Dick, Dinah, or Helena will be crashing there

- Steph lives alone in the same house she grew up in, her Mom has moved to California or something for a fresh start as she is finally sober, but at this point Steph doesn’t need her. It’s very sad as Steph never truly had a mother, but she’s happy that Crystal is getting another chance away from Gotham.

- Duke swears he’s seen Jason at night classes at Gotham U, but Jason won’t admit it

- The only ones Jason talks to semi-frequently are Dick and Tim, the relationships are super rocky though. Dick sees Jason as his brother first, and since he’s in Blüdhaven he tries not to concern himself with Jason’s business. Tim and Jason do fight a bit but Tim is more lenient than Cass so he can tolerate Jason’s shit if he feels like it’s for the best.

[sphireath-wisp]

#My Kind of Lover

Sypnosis: I have no idea what this is about, I'm just rambling (Inspired by "My kind of woman")

Warnings: Not proofread (again), might not be in character for Kaiser because I didn't read the manga,

Featuring: Itoshi Sae, Itoshi Rin, Micheal Kaiser x GN! reader

Itoshi Sae

If there was something else other than soccer that could ever reach his heart, it would be any sort of breathtaking scenery.

The smell of salt, the hues of the setting sun, and ocean waves overlapping. He would find himself staring at the sea for longer than he actually wanted to. The stretch of white a white sandy beach with the soft occasional cries of seagulls, washing down that lump in his throat with some excessively fruity drink his assistant left on the table, maybe he didn't mind forgetting soccer for just a small moment during these times.

If anything, these calm - supposedly serene moments made him feel at ease again.

But recently, Sae has found himself more captivated by you. It didn't matter what you were doing, he could and would stare at you for hours. Waking up next to you and seeing your face the first thing in the morning, makes him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Oh, you don't like this? He'll remember that. You seem really fond of this flower? He'll buy extra to see that smile again.

If I'm being honest, you didn't really understand why he liked looking at you so much. At first, you would be worried if you had something on your face or if he was judging you - Sae doesn't have the nicest look in the world, okay?

Nevertheless, you got used to it, giggling when you could feel his eyes gazing at you. You would often stare back and see him blink, turning away immediately, insisting that he was not staring.

In public though, his... foul mouth would get the better of him if it wasn't you who caught him staring.

Itoshi Rin

"Stepping stones" was something Itoshi Rin would often call every match he went through, every rival, and every person that had some sort of irritating or impressive skill on the field. His teammates were the closest things he could call a friend, but if he considered them a friend was an entirely separate matter.

Of course, there would always be an exception - you. Though, you weren't really safe from his sharp tongue despite how much he softened up when it came to you.

You would once in a while get called "idiot" by Rin when you happened to hurt yourself accidentally or when you tried to do something stupid. Rin didn't really mean anything bad despite the insulting name-calling and you could tell.

It was his own personal way of telling you he was worried or concerned about you, his weird and confusing method of telling you he cared. Through the blunt and overly serious exterior he has, you melt all of that away and reached somewhere in his heart that made him crave you even more.

He hated being vulnerable around others, so you understood him down to the last detail. Sometimes, he's worried you took his words to heart, so he promises himself to melt in your arms once both of you are in private. You'll have his attention, just wait.

If he visibly notices you flinch or frown at his statement, guilt will eat him up from the inside. Despite not enjoying any display of affection, he'll quickly kiss you or holds your hand under the table in hopes of cheering you up.

Micheal Kaiser

This mischievous little shit is watching your response to everything as if it's an experiment. You were so... interesting - like a mix of chemicals that he was so curious to see the reaction of.

He was like an annoyingly enjoyable bee to be around, but you had grown to love his constant buzzing around you. He'll randomly spurt and ramble about how much he loved you just to see that blush adorning your cheeks.

Teasing was always a must to him when it came to you, that shit-eating grin on his face after he happened to snatch that last slice of pizza from you or win against you in a game made you fall deeper in love again.

Pranks? Games? Surprises? He was all in for it.

And wow - this guy loves to boast about you. It doesn't matter who it is, his teammates, his rivals, online, who cares? That mouth of his couldn't be glued shut because he just loved to go on and on about you.

I JUST KNOW this guy loves to show you off in public too. When the both of you first announced your relationship, you could predict from that notorious smile of his that he would do this right at the stadium, where his charisma shines the brightest.

You're like a trophy, his most precious one. The whole world would have their eyes on the both of you, basking you in their attention, but painfully aware that such a gem like you belong to him and only him.